Slip Of The Tongue

be my sweet little pastry? - ♡

tangerine x reader

summary, tangerine meets you in your bakery and he’s determined to make you his.

since the cold weather soon arrived in the cities of london, that'd meant you're bakery would open just in time for the cozy seasons. people wanting to enjoy a nice pastry and a warm cup of a sweet substance as they relished in someone else's company.

located between two other stores, your bakery stood. love at first bite. a cheeky little name that made you smile whenever you'd hear it. amusing and clever, just the right amount. so with the seasons beginning to bloom, you had opened.. nervous for people's opinion, but also determined, driven by ambition to at least make people smile with a sweet treat.

so with that, you'd finally set everything how you wanted. each pastry sat nicely behind the glass that showcased it, seats and tables scattered around the small shop, the menu displayed, hanging by the ceiling, and finally, you. standing happily behind the counter as you attempted to one of the customers, handing their pastry wrapped in a small box tied with a pink bow. ౨ৎ

the day had nearly gone as a success. so many customers had complimented the cozy looking shop, their eyes growing wide as they took a bite into a pastry they didn’t expect to be so, wonderful. it brought a smile and perhaps a small blush on your cheeks. managing a bakery with only a couple co-workers wasn't easy, but it was manageable.

it wasn't until the second handle of the clock that hung on the wall ticked at exactly 8pm. the shop closed at 9pm. how lovely, it was almost time to close. a small sigh leaving your lips as you glanced outside. to admire how the night sky would look, maybe watch as people walked by, if the weather had changed.. but no.

you met the gaze of a man.

tall, broad, and the most beautiful blue eyes you're grateful for have witnessing. he held your eyes, brows tugged in thought, almost anger before looking away to the sign just above the shop. your cheeks flush with the reminder of the name, not being able to help the smile on your lips. his frame now approaching, slowly pushing open the door, the bell above ringing softly. greeted by the lovely fragrance of baked goods as he stepped inside. scanning around, studying, learning.

and in that moment, you swore you could melt into a puddle on the floor. this man was the perfect portion of sophisticated and cunty, just from a glance. wearing a dress silk looking dress shirt, unbuttoned to see enough of his chest and the gold medallion, sitting happily on it. black slacks and dress shoes to finish adorning the look.

doe-eyes looking at him in almost admiration before he approached the counter. tearing your gaze quickly, almost embarrassingly before looking back. how could a man be so stunning?

"hey sweetheart," he started, his accent eminent in his voice, "you the owner of this lovely lil' shop?" teasing for a moment with a small smirk, finding the blush on your cheeks, extremely adorable. his flirting coming to him oddly natural.

your voice getting caught in your throat for a moment before nodding, trying not to stutter or say something stupid. "um.. yes," you manage to say softly, regaining your normal smile. "w-what would you like.. sir?"

he seems amused by your response, pursing his lips in thought as he looked at the displays with a nod. "just a slice of lemon meringue pie will do, love. to-go."

you couldn't help but feel your cheeks burn a little darker, feeling his gaze trailing over your frame. the look subtle, but definitely felt. would making conversation be wise? gosh, could you even muster a sentence? being under the gaze of a random man should leave you afraid, concerned. but it felt oddly safe. safe in this mans presence. just who exactly was he?

"so i take it you're new around here, yeah?" he questioned, meeting your gaze as you straightened behind the counter, boxing his dessert with gentle hands. his gaze on them briefly, not going unnoticed.

"today's my first." you said with a proud glim in your eyes, feeling that same ambition to thrive and grow. "london just started feeling like home, and now, here i am." you said with a shrug as you finished tying the bow on the box, gently sliding it to him on the counter.

his head tilting slightly as he saw the box. of course, pink with the sweetest bow tied on. this girl was a sweetheart, a sweetheart he had now grown determined to make his own.

"m'glad you feel that way," he smiled, genuine, his heart sparking the smallest warmth. a sign that he wasn't just cold, wasn't an empty shell of a man. "don't reckon you know that many lads around here.. so," he paused a moment, his card between his index and middle, offering. "would you take a chance with me? be my sweet little pastry?"

and like that, your words had dissolved into a silent gasp, almost as if being punched in the gut. this man was so different from any you've ever met. bold, determined, and blunt. your hand covering your lips, attempting to hide the smile behind it.

with a small smile, you reach for the card. his fingers grazing against yours, sending a shiver down your arm, and a warmth straight to your heart.

"i'd like that."

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thank you for reading my first post!! it's kinda sucky, but i tried! please leave any mistakes or corrections i can make in the comments. :)

Dance with me

Draco Malfoy X reader Comfort, angst

Summary: Two broken souls find solace in a quiet dance, their shared pain speaking louder than words ever could.

Inspired by:

AN: Really wanted to match the vibe of this song. Sinking, but having a lifeline that’s barely there. I wrote this so you can imagine it both as a sibling-like (platonic) relationship and also maybe a romantic relationship. Either way, there’s comfort.

Story under the cut

The Slytherin common room pulsed with the kind of chaos that came after a hard-won victory. Cups clinked together in celebration, laughter echoed off the stone walls, and the sound of music hummed low and steady under it all. But neither of you cared for any of it. Not really.

Draco stood off to the side, leaning against the wall, his tie half-untied and his gaze fixed on the middle distance. His jaw was tight, and even from across the room, you could see the faint shadows under his eyes. He looked like he always did in moments like these: exhausted. Frayed. Like a rope pulled so tight it was about to snap.

You knew that feeling. You lived it, too.

Your steps carried you through the crowd, ignoring the drunken shouts of your housemates and the occasional hands reaching out to pull you into the revelry. A few people called Draco’s name, too, but he didn’t respond. He was waiting for you.

When you reached him, his shoulders relaxed just slightly, and the tension in his posture shifted. Without a word, he grabbed your wrist—not too tightly, just enough to pull you away from the noise. He led you out of the common room and into the quiet of one of the unused corridors.

The silence was almost deafening after the chaos of the party. The dim torches cast flickering shadows on the stone walls, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

“You alright?” you asked softly, leaning against the wall beside him.

He exhaled a shaky breath, his head dropping forward for a moment before he looked at you. His gray eyes, usually so sharp and guarded, were softer now. Tired. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice low and raw. “I think so. Maybe.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that, and you knew better than to push. Instead, you nodded, your shoulder brushing against his. “Rough day?”

He let out a dry laugh, humorless and bitter. “Something like that. Winning isn’t everything, you know. Doesn’t fix…” His words trailed off, but you didn’t need him to finish.

“I know.”

And you did. You understood the way the weight of expectations crushed you, the way it felt to carry burdens that weren’t really yours to bear. That was why he always sought you out, and why you always found your way back to him.

After a moment, he tilted his head toward the faint sound of music drifting through the stone walls from the party. “Dance with me.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” he muttered, but there was no bite in his tone. Just weariness. “It’s quieter here. Less… them.”

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Alright.”

He stepped closer, one hand hovering awkwardly near your shoulder before settling on it. His other hand reached for yours, and you let him take it, the warmth of his palm grounding you. The song was slow, haunting, and it filled the empty corridor like a whisper of something lost.

You moved together, not quite in time with the music but in time with each other. It wasn’t graceful or practiced; it was clumsy and raw and human. The kind of thing you could only share with someone who knew all the broken pieces of you because they carried their own.

For a while, neither of you spoke. There was no need to. His grip on your hand tightened slightly, and you leaned into it, letting the silence wrap around you both like a shield.

“They don’t get it,” he said finally, his voice quiet.

“No,” you agreed, resting your head against his shoulder. “They don’t.”

But you did.

And that was enough.

Wasting All These Tears On You

Finnick Odair x Reader

Tw: Regular THG angst, mentions of forced prostitution, reader and Finnick are both lowkey jerks, I think that’s it, let me know if I missed anything ☺️

(This is my first story and I’m always open to constructive feedback. I also take requests if you’d like to see more)

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶

And you left me standin’ on the corner crying

Feeling like a fool for tryin’

Finnick Odair. The pride and joy of District Four. The Darling of the Capitol. The most desirable Victor. These are just a few of his many titles. Panem adores him. He’s perfect in every way. A body specially sculpted by the gods, a smile that could entrance even the most manipulative, blue eyes that could suck anyone in and drown them like a lost sailor at sea. Even his voice. So seductive it could put a siren to shame.

So how did Y/n, the Victor of the 68th Hunger Games get involved with such a man?

Truthfully, she doesn’t even know the answer, and frankly, she would rather forget they knew each other at all.

I wish I could erase our memory

‘Cause you didn’t give a damn about me

Seeing him around District Four, the Capitol, anywhere really brought Y/n nothing but pain. Seeing him smile with the many women and different citizens of the Capitol created a sickening feeling in the 68th Victor. She pries her eyes away when she sees a wandering hand, a whisper too close to his ear, the offering of a drink. More often than not, she focuses more on him than on her own well being.

Perhaps that’s why she’s sitting outside of a very generous party, thrown by President Snow, crying.

Her nails are dug deeply into her palms as she tries to use the physical pain to stop herself from crying. Her eyes are stuck on the ceiling of the hallway, decorated with the most extravagant lights. She counts the diamonds that are stuck in each chandelier and slowly finds herself coming down from her emotional high.

She hates that he has this effect on her.

The moment she had won her Games, she could tell he was shocked. He didn’t believe she would make it out due to her low evaluation score. But she proved everyone wrong. She killed twelve Tributes in her arena. She hid her skills, appearing weak to the others so they would target her first. It was a cruel way to use the poor teens that surrounded her, but it was either her or them.

She never understood why Finnick had such a hard time believing in her. He didn’t even take the time to try and train her, pushing her off onto Mags as if she were some chore. He seemed almost regretful when she won. She didn’t understand why until Snow had crowned her at her Victor ceremony.

“You are what the elite in the Capitol consider… desirable.”

She knew what that meant. People in the Capitol always talked, especially when they had enough to drink. The night she met with her first client, she walked out feeling like an animal. No, less than. She felt appalled and wanted to crawl out of her own skin. She wanted to scratch her soft and supple skin so she would be of no use to Snow anymore.

That was until she saw him.

Finnick was exiting a room just across the hall, and when they locked eyes, everything fell into place. He knew what she had just gone through and he took it upon himself to help her through it the way no one else bothered to help him.

Over time he developed a sense of protectiveness over Y/n. They were always seen together, joint at the hip. Snow at first wanted them separated at all costs, but noticed the positive reaction from the Capitol at their close relationship, so he allowed it.

Though Y/n is starting to wish he had torn them apart when he had the chance. Life wouldn’t be so painful if he had.

You ain’t worth another sleepless night

And I’ll do everything I gotta do to get you off my mind

Many had warned her not to get involved with Finnick, but she never listened. Her heart told her that he’s what she wanted, what she craved. They kept their relationship a secret. Stealing kisses in passing, flirty touches under the dinner table, seductive whispering at parties, sneaking into each other's room undetected. They did it for almost two years, and it was pure bliss. Being with each other, spending countless hours on the beaches in District Four just relishing in each other's presence. But nothing good ever lasts long in Panem. She should’ve known that.

Things grew more and more difficult the more clients the two of them were forced to see. Fights ensued, jealousy raged, tears were shed. It all became too much. And some things can never be taken back or forgotten, no matter how hard one tries.

“Then leave!” Y/n screams, tears falling freely from her eyes.

“Maybe I will!” Finnick seethes with a harshness that she had never witnessed before. Her heart ached seeing him stare at her with such an intense anger.

He turns to storm out of the Y/n’s house, but her words cause his feet to freeze in their spot. “But I can’t promise I’ll be waiting for you when you come back,” the way she says it is so finite, but her entire being is yelling at her to take it back before it’s too late.

Finnick pauses before turning back to look at her. His face is blank, or maybe heartbroken is the better word for it. His eyes are mere shells of what they used to be, the bright green spark has faded into something she couldn’t even recognize.

“Good,” he replies, his voice barely shaking. “Why would I want to come back to you when I have women lining up to be with me?”

He knew exactly what to say to wound her the most. They both have been open and honest about their insecurities when it comes to their high end status. They tried not to be insecure, but who wouldn’t be in their position? They were sold for their bodies, no one would feel confident or beautiful after experiencing that. And both of them always had the worry that someone they met would appease the other better than they ever could. That’s why they agreed never to say things like that to each other.

Until that moment.

“Well, have fun with them,” she spits back with a lethal amount of venom lacing her tone. “Enjoy using your body to cover up your fear that no one will ever love you!”

‘Cause what you wanted I couldn’t get

What you did, boy, I’ll never forget

After that, communication ceased between them. The relationship they fought so hard for cracked, and it hasn’t been fixed since.

Y/n regrets what she said that night more than anything. Along with the amount of petty shots she’s taken at the Darling. She won’t deny that she’s been more than flirty with other men in front of him, but what hurt the most was that he never seemed to care.

Before he would always rush to her aid, making sure her drinks weren’t laced with an aphrodisiac, that the men she danced with were respectful, and that she was always well taken care of. Now, he doesn’t even look her way. He’s always on the arm of some elitist, looking so engrossed by them that anyone would believe nothing else in the world mattered to him.

Y/n tried so hard for so long not to let that bother her, but seeing him tonight with that woman practically sitting on his lap broke her. She had to leave the party. She couldn’t keep playing this game anymore. It hurt too much.

“You forgot something.”

Y/n looks up and sees Finnick standing above her, looking at everything but the sobbing woman below him. She sniffles, trying to cover up any evidence of her breakdown. She notices him holding the small bag she brought with her. Y/n stands from her spot with a high level of grace and takes her bag from him with a curt nod.

“Thanks,” she mumbles before going to walk away from him.

“You know, I used to be the guy you went to whenever you felt the need to cry,” his comment is solemn, painful almost. The way he reminisces creates a nostalgia neither of them want to feel.

Y/n stops, still not turning around. She clears her throat, “Yeah, you were.” She can feel his unwavering presence behind her, “But that was a long time ago.”

The silence surrounding them is deafening, but neither of them bother to move. Y/n doesn’t understand why he’s the one who had to follow her out. Why did he care enough to return her items? Why does it matter if he was the one she used to go to?

“Why did you come after me, Finnick?” She asks, her voice monotone. “Don’t you have your hands full catering to the three women already drooling over you?”

Once again she’s met with silence, but his breathing gives away that he hasn’t left. She’s surprised at her own level of patience. There really is nothing stopping her from walking away, but she stays. Like there’s this supernatural force that makes her desire his answer.

“I asked you a question,” she turns around, a newfound power in her voice. Her dress trails behind her intimidatingly as her heels click on the concrete. She stops directly in front of him, a scowl on her face.

His eyes dance across her face, “Something just seemed different this time.” He answers quietly. “I know we like to play the jealousy game and prey on each other's insecurities, but the way you walked out was different. It wasn’t fun anymore.”

“I didn’t realize it was ever fun in the first place.”

“Oh, don’t act like you’ve never hung yourself all over the Capitol men just to get under my skin,” he chastises. “I know you, Y/n. You like to play just as much as I do.”

“Well, I’m over whatever game you think this is,” Y/n shrugs with vindication. “I want you to be happy Finnick, but I can’t watch it anymore. I just can’t. Seeing you with an array of women all the time is just too much,” she admits solemnly.

“And you think it didn’t hurt me?” He asks, taking a step closer to her. He tilts his head the same way he always does. That simple motion silences whoever he’s talking to and forces them to listen. Y/n’ breath catches in her throat as his nose practically touches the tip of hers. “The amount of times I have wanted to murder the slimy men that have laid their hands on you. How many times I’ve wanted to sweep you off your feet and take you away from here,” he leans closer to her ear. “To apologize to you,” he whispers, nipping at her ear lobe.

She hates how his tactics are working against her. She’s never been one to deny the electrifying feeling she gets from him. “Seems a little too late for that, doesn’t it?” She whispers back.

“Only if you don’t forgive me,” he counters. The looks in his crystal blue eyes is nothing short of genuine affection and regret. He places his finger underneath her chin, “Y/n… I’m tired of seeing you waste all these tears on me. C’mon sweetheart, let me make it up to you,” he kisses her forehead softly. “I messed up. I shouldn’t have said what I did or left you like that. And I’m sorry. I need you.”

Y/n tries to keep her tears at bay, but she can’t help the bitter water stinging her eyes. “It wasn’t just you,” she manages to get out. It’s quiet because if she were to speak any louder, her composure would break. “I’m sorry for what I said too,” she tells him with a small nod before flinging her arms around his shoulders.

Finnick feels a huge weight lift off his chest as he feels her body encompass his. He’s just as tired of this manipulative game as she is. Watching her dance with the multitudes of men that would do nothing but use her made his blood boil. He wraps his arms around her legs and lifts her in the air. He holds her tightly with no intention of ever releasing her from his grip again.

Y/n pulls back only for a moment so she can plant her lips onto his. The kiss is soft and gentle, their lips meshing together perfectly. They fit together like a puzzle piece and the satisfaction they get from reconnecting can’t be described through words. Fireworks go off in both their minds as she tangles her hands in his hair.

“I love you,” he mumbles between kisses.

Y/n didn’t know how much she missed hearing those words from his mouth. She thought she’d never be able to hear them again, but she’s so happy that she did. “I love you too.”

Oh, finally I’m through

Wasting all these tears on you

Is it weird I want to request a scene that involves Janson? I've been seeing a lot of posts about him and ngl he's kinda hot...is this just me...???

GO FOR IT. I wholeheartedly agree. I don’t know what it is but well… let’s just say I wouldn’t protest because he could slam a clipboard on the table and I’d fold like a lawn chair 😫

PLEASE PLEASE SEND IN REQUESTS 🙏🙏

Tides of Tension

Māui-tikitiki-a-Taranga x Reader (ft. Jealous!Moana)

Fluff, angst

Inspired by a comment by: @eragon-and-arya98 on part one of this story called Tides of Change.

Summary: As Maui, Moana, and a reluctant eel guardian journey together, an unexpected bond forms… but jealousy and unspoken feelings threaten to tear them apart.

Story under the cut

The mist thickened again, swirling around us like a web of secrecy. I stood at the edge of the boat, my gaze fixed on the water, trying to ignore the way Maui kept glancing over at me. I wasn’t sure if it was the dim light, or something about his grin, but there was something in his eyes today. Something softer than before.

The boat rocked under us, and I shifted my weight, feeling the current pull against the hull. Moana, still gripping the oar with her usual focus, glanced between Maui and me. She raised an eyebrow, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You alright there?” Moana asked, her tone casual but with an edge. It wasn’t hard to tell that she was watching us more than she needed to.

Maui gave a lazy shrug, turning his back to her. “Yeah, just… you know, taking in the view.”

I stiffened, but it wasn’t the insult that bothered me—it was the way he said it, the way he looked at me as if there was something more. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Moana’s eyes flickered to me, her gaze sharper now. Her lips parted, and I saw the muscles in her jaw tighten. She was pissed.

“You’re not… flirting with her, are you?” she shot out, her voice too casual for the sharpness in it.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Moana.” I turned my attention to the water, trying to ignore the unease stirring in my chest. The last thing I needed was more drama.

But then Maui’s voice broke through the silence, his tone a little too light. “Relax, Curly, I’m not flirting.” He grinned at me, and this time, it didn’t feel like a joke, it felt like something else, something I couldn’t quite place.

Moana’s glare hardened, and I saw her grip the oar a little too tightly. The tension in the air thickened, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. All I could think about was the way Maui had looked at me just now. The way his eyes seemed to linger longer than necessary.

I wanted to hate him. Really, I did. He had that smug, overconfident air about him that should’ve made him unbearable. But every time he looked at me— every time he brushed past me with that cocky grin or leaned just a little too close… it did something to me that I couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t love. Of course not. I wasn’t naïve. But something in me stirred, something I’d buried deep for so long.

I didn’t know what it was, but I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Moana shifted her weight, the frustration practically radiating off her as she glanced between us again. “Maui, stop. I can tell when you’re trying to make things awkward,” she muttered.

Maui just raised an eyebrow, unbothered by the tension. “What? You don’t like my charm?”

I couldn’t help the slight smirk that pulled at my lips. “I don’t think anyone could like that charm.” My voice was sharp, but there was a hint of amusement that I wasn’t ready to admit to.

He chuckled, leaning back casually. “Fair enough, Legs. But don’t worry—I’m just here for the ride.”

The boat swayed again, and I found myself stepping a little closer to steady myself. Maui didn’t move, but his proximity was undeniable. The air between us shifted once more, and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

For a second, I thought I might have imagined it, but then I felt the warmth of his hand brush against mine as he reached for the oar.

I stiffened, eyes flicking to his face. He was still grinning, but there was something else behind it now—something that didn’t belong in the quiet tension of the boat.

“You okay?” Maui asked quietly, his voice lower than before. His thumb grazed my hand, and I had to force myself to breathe normally.

I nodded, swallowing the sudden dryness in my throat. “I’m fine,” I muttered, not trusting myself to say more.

Moana, on the other hand, had had enough. “I don’t get it,” she spat, her words sharp enough to cut through the fog. “You’re not… seriously flirting with her, right? I thought we were past that, Maui.”

Maui paused, and for the first time, I saw something flicker in his eyes. It wasn’t his usual teasing, cocky expression—it was something more. “What if I am?” he asked, his voice quiet and uncertain for the first time.

I felt my heart skip a beat, but I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Instead, I turned away, my gaze returning to the mist ahead, trying to keep my composure.

Moana’s voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again. “You’re really going to mess with her, aren’t you?”

Maui didn’t answer right away, but his expression softened as he watched me, and I saw the faintest hint of something like regret flicker across his face.

But it didn’t last. Instead, he grinned again, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug. “You know me. I like a good challenge.”

And with that, I felt it—my resolve weakening. Because no matter how much I wanted to pretend I didn’t care, I knew that this… this thing between us was far from over.

Moana glared at him, but her gaze flicked to me for a moment, her expression unreadable.

I couldn’t tell if she was more jealous, or if she was just worried. Maybe both.

But I didn’t care. Not anymore.

Perhaps… I was finally done pretending.

The Knight

OC (Duncan Patellio)

Angst, Gore (it’s quite graphic, be warned) if ‘Edge of Tomorrow’-style time looping is not your thing, this may not be the story for you.

Summary: When a knight explores the ruins of an abandoned church, he uncovers a secret that refuses to let him go.

Duncan Patellio stood before the ruin—a bleak monument of despair. The remnants of a once-hallowed church, its charred walls rose like jagged ribs against a blood-tinged sky, while blackened stone arches reached upward as if in a silent plea. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of burnt incense and scorched wood, a bitter perfume mingling with the damp earth and the faint echo of lost prayers. Every shattered shard of stained glass on the cold, ashen ground whispered memories of brighter days now buried beneath endless ruin.

Sent by the king to salvage what little remained, Duncan moved with a measured caution that belied the weight of secrets in his step. His eyes, alert and unyielding, scanned the debris—a scattered mosaic of warped candle stubs, tarnished trinkets, and splintered relics—each piece a muted echo of former sanctity. The silence, punctuated only by the occasional whisper of wind through broken walls, pressed in on him, urging him onward through the forgotten corridors of this desecrated sanctuary.

Then, without warning, the ground beneath him groaned in protest. A subtle tremor rippled through the dust-laden floor—a prelude to betrayal by the very stone he trusted. In a heartbeat, the ancient foundation shattered. Duncan’s world tilted as he plummeted into darkness, the sensation of freefall replaced by a violent, bone-jarring impact as he collided with a bed of loose rubble.

Duncan slammed into the cold, unforgiving ground with a grunt, twisting into a defensive stance in a heartbeat—a move honed by years of silent, deadly precision. His armor scraped against jagged stone as he dropped into a crouch, every muscle taut and alert. The torch in his hand flickered erratically, its quivering light revealing slick, damp walls and a maze of dark, uneven rubble that groaned under the weight of ancient secrets.

Just then, a sharp crunch—crisp and unmistakable—resounded beneath his boot. Duncan’s eyes locked onto the shattered fragments of an egg; its once-smooth, pearly shell was now a spiderweb of cracks, weeping a viscous, iridescent fluid that caught the sputtering light like ghostly tears. The scent of cold metal and decaying matter rose in his nostrils, making his skin crawl with dread.

Behind him, the darkness stirred. A slow, deliberate clicking began—click… click… click—a measured, metallic cadence that echoed through the narrow passage. With each relentless tick, the sound grew louder, more insistent. Duncan’s hand went to the hilt of his sword as beads of sweat formed on his brow, his senses sharpened to every sound.

Then, without warning, the clicking gave way to a horrid chorus. A grinding, scraping noise—SCRRREE—filled the air as if something massive were dragging itself across stone. The sound was interlaced with a sorrowful, keening wail—AWWOOO—that reverberated off the cavern walls like the anguished cry of a damned soul.

Duncan’s heart hammered as he slowly turned, torch raised. Emerging from the inky shadows was a hulking, alien beast—a mass of sinewy flesh and glistening, chitinous armor. Its limbs, grotesquely elongated and ending in sharp, clawed appendages, moved with a deliberate, nightmarish grace. With every step, the creature’s feet scraped against the stone, a wet, gurgling sound that punctuated the oppressive silence.

The beast paused, its head cocking to one side. From its hide, a series of clicking sounds escaped as it advanced. Its eyes, luminescent and unblinking, fixated on Duncan with a predatory hunger. The creature’s gaping maw emitted a low, guttural rumble that vibrated through the ground beneath him, mingling with the relentless drip of unseen water.

Duncan’s breath came in shallow, rapid bursts as he slowly shifted his stance, his gaze never leaving the beast. Every nerve in his body screamed to act, to fight, yet he remained rooted in place, acutely aware of the fatal precision required to survive this moment. He raised his sword, its blade catching the flickering light, and his fingers tightened around the grip. His eyes darted to the shattered egg at his feet—a silent, eerie omen of what was to come—and back to the advancing horror.

The creature lunged suddenly—a terrifying blur of sinew and exoskeleton. Its claws sliced through the stagnant air with a resounding slash, narrowly missing Duncan as he rolled to the side. The beast’s low, mournful wail transformed into a terrifying snarl, each sound a visceral promise of violence.

In that heart-stopping moment, as the alien predator’s form loomed larger in the swirling torchlight, the ground beneath them seemed to tremble with the echo of impending doom. The cacophony of clicks, scrapes, and guttural roars crescendoed into a singular, unrelenting assault on the senses…

And then, with a final, ear-splitting shriek that shattered the oppressive darkness, the beast pounced—its claws reaching out, its eyes burning with a merciless intent…

Duncan barely had time to exhale before the creature struck.

It didn’t just lunge—it detonated forward, a blur of sinew and chitinous plates, its momentum an avalanche of force. He tried to pivot, but it was too fast. Too massive. A split second of resistance, then—

Impact.

The breath wrenched from his lungs as a solid wall of muscle and exoskeleton drove into his ribs, lifting him clean off his feet. The world snapped sideways. A sharp, sickening pop burst through his torso, followed by a white-hot splintering sensation—bones giving way under unbearable pressure.

Then came the wall.

His body struck the jagged stone like a ragdoll hurled by an angry god. The first thing to hit was his shoulder—his dominant one. A sharp, electric burst of pain rocketed down his arm, turning his fingers numb. He heard—felt—his collarbone snap. A brittle, unnatural crack vibrated through his skull.

Then his spine.

His back arched violently, pain exploding through every nerve as something inside him shifted—something that wasn’t supposed to move. His armor crumpled inward, metal biting deep into flesh. He gasped, but the breath wasn’t there. Only agony, only raw, suffocating fire filling his ribs, seizing his lungs in a merciless grip.

His head slammed last.

The world fractured into a storm of black and red—shards of sound and light flickering in and out of existence. A deep, resonant thud reverberated through his skull, an unbearable ringing swallowing every other sensation except pain. His vision swam. He didn’t even realize he was falling until the stone beneath his feet gave way.

The ruin devoured him whole.

He plummeted through collapsing wreckage, tumbling through dust and darkness. His body twisted, weightless and broken, every jerk and jolt another fresh agony. The fall seemed endless, a slow-motion descent into nothingness.

Then—

Impact.

Again.

The ground beneath him was solid—unforgiving stone biting into his knees, his palms, his boots scraping against dust-laden rock. His breath tore free from his throat, ragged and desperate, his fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword before he even realized he was moving. His body was whole. His ribs no longer screamed with broken agony, his shoulder no longer hung uselessly from its socket, his head—his skull—intact.

But the pain was still there. 

His body remembered.

A tremor racked through him, his stomach twisting violently, the phantom ache of shattered bones making him dizzy, nauseous, wrong. He could feel the moment his ribs had caved in, could still hear the snap of his shoulder dislocating, could still taste copper on his tongue from the blood he’d swallowed when he’d hit the wall.

But none of it had happened. Not anymore.

A sharp, brittle sound echoed beneath him.

Duncan froze. His breath caught in his throat. A slow, creeping dread slithered up his spine, sinking its claws into his chest and squeezing until his heart was hammering against his ribs.

He knew that sound.

His gaze dropped to his boot, where a delicate, pearlescent shell lay shattered beneath him, iridescent fluid weeping onto the stone in slow, glistening rivulets.

The egg.

It was whole when he fell. It was whole before. But now, it lay broken at his feet, just as it had the first time, its yolk-like contents bleeding out in eerie, shimmering pools.

Behind him, the darkness stirred.

Duncan didn’t need to turn around to know what came next. He didn’t need to hear the slow, deliberate clicking—the metallic, measured cadence slithering toward him—to know what was there, waiting in the shadows. He felt it. The weight of its presence, the anticipation of its movement, the way the air shifted as it drew closer.

He had lived this moment.

Every breath, every flicker of torchlight against the damp walls, every shudder of his own broken body—he had already been here. Died here. And yet, here he stood again, whole and unbroken, standing in the exact same place, stepping on the exact same egg, listening to the exact same sound crawling toward him from the dark.

Click. Click. Click.

The noise cut through the silence, piercing, rhythmic, steady. It was waiting for him. Just as before.

But this time, he wasn’t frozen.

This time, before the beast could charge, before he could be broken and shattered all over again, before the cycle could begin anew—

Duncan moved first.

————————————————————————————————————

Thank you to @teathepumpkinmoth for the story idea: The knight (insert any name. For this example I'll use the name "sir goobus") sir goobus was sent by the king to the charred skeleton of the church, once a beacon of faith now clawed at the sky like a blackened hand. The king had sent him not to investigate the blaze, not to mourn - "a clumsy lightning strike, nothing more," the royal scholars hath declared - but to scavenge anything of value before the rubble swallowed it whole. as well as any human remains. Whilst he searched, he expected to find warped candles or perhaps a few bits of gold here and there. What he did not expect was for the floor to give way, plunging the knight into a abyss darker then he would realize. With only his dimming torch to light his way, and the way he came quickly smothered in rubble, the knight soon came to find a dark secret buried deep within the church.

Heart of the Forest

Newt Scamander x Reader fluffy (I mean, obviously... it's Newt) Summary: When a magical creature escapes into the Forbidden Forest, Newt Scamander unexpectedly finds himself with an unlikely companion on a wild chase that tests his patience, courage, and perhaps, a bit of his heart. Story under the cut

The forest was dense with fog, the ground carpeted with moss and scattered leaves that crunched softly underfoot. Newt adjusted his coat, glancing at his companion—you. You were brushing dirt off your coat with an expression that spoke of annoyance, though Newt pretended not to notice.

“This way, if I’m not mistaken,” he murmured, pointing toward a faint glow in the distance. A hint of worry creased his brow; the glow wasn’t natural, more like the bioluminescent trail left by the creature he was tracking. “Mind the roots,” he added, just as you tripped over one with a huff.

“Noted,” you replied, a touch of sarcasm in your voice. “So, remind me why we’re chasing after a creature that could practically disappear into thin air?”

Newt’s eyes sparkled as he replied, “Ah, the Erthrach tends to hide when it feels threatened, but it won’t stray far from familiar territory. It’s rare and endangered; we must make sure it’s safe.”

The two of you trudged deeper into the forest, your combined breaths clouding in the crisp night air. You watched Newt, fascinated by the quiet determination in his gaze. He was focused, even a bit anxious, though it was clear this sort of mission was his element.

“Do you always do this alone?” you asked, unable to mask your curiosity.

“Mostly,” he admitted, glancing at you with a small smile. “Though I must say, it’s… rather nice to have someone along this time.”

The forest grew darker, and for a moment, a prickle of unease brushed your skin. But just as you were about to voice it, Newt froze, his hand coming up to signal you to stop. Ahead, the faint glow was moving, darting between trees with surprising speed.

“There it is,” he whispered, and before you could even blink, he was off, rushing forward with a grace and speed you hadn’t anticipated. With a muttered curse, you followed him, weaving through the trees as the glow moved erratically, zig-zagging through branches and shrubs.

Just when it seemed like Newt had it cornered, the creature leapt, soaring over a fallen tree and vanishing into a thicket. You skidded to a stop beside him, panting. “Looks like your friend’s faster than we thought,” you said, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.

Newt chuckled, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “You’d be surprised how clever they are. But we’re close.”

Without warning, he took your hand, leading you around a dense clump of bushes. His grip was warm, steady, and oddly comforting against the cool night air. “Stay close. These woods can play tricks on you,” he said, his tone softer than before.

The creature’s glow was brighter now, illuminating the small clearing ahead. Newt held a finger to his lips, signaling silence. You both crouched, watching as the tiny Erthrach hesitated, sniffing the air before settling down near a patch of glowing mushrooms.

With a practiced flick of his wand, Newt conjured a shimmering, gentle light that drew the creature’s attention. It tilted its head, inching forward until it was close enough for Newt to carefully slip a small, enchanted net around it. He cradled it gently, murmuring soothing words until its glow softened, the creature visibly calming in his arms.

“There, there,” he whispered, his face soft with relief. “Back where you belong.”

As he rose, still holding the creature, he offered you a grateful smile. “Thank you. It’s not every day you find someone willing to chase an Erthrach through the forest.”

You shrugged, feeling a rare warmth at his words. “Someone’s got to keep you from tripping over those roots,” you teased.

Newt laughed, his eyes shining with a warmth that went beyond his usual shyness. He adjusted the creature in his arms, glancing back at the trail with a new lightness. “Perhaps I’ll make it a habit, then. You’re rather good at this.”

You both began the walk back, Newt’s shoulder occasionally brushing yours as you wove through the trees. And as the forest closed in around you, the stars peeking through the canopy above, the warmth between you was as bright as any spell Newt could conjure.

Hello 👋,

I hope this message finds you well. My name is Aziz, and I’m reaching out with a heartfelt plea to help my family find safety and reunite with our mother. 😞

The ongoing war in Gaza has torn my family apart. My mother and newborn sister are stranded in Egypt, while I, along with the rest of my sex family members, am trapped in the midst of the genocide in Gaza. We have not only been separated but have also lost our home and are enduring unimaginable hardships. 💔

Your support can make a difference. Whether by reading our story, donating, or sharing our campaign with others, you can help us reunite, find safety, and start anew. 🙏🕊

Thank you, from the depths of my heart, for your kindness, compassion, and solidarity during this difficult time. ❤🍉

https://gofund.me/58268669 🔗

Yall know the drill— anyone on this app can share and spread awareness. If you can, donate and spread hope. Anyone can be a bystander and relax in their own homes, but if this happened to any of us, we’d depend on upstanders. Be an upstander. Time waits for no one, so neither should you.

And frankly, to hell with who supports who. People are dying. People are getting relocated— losing their loved ones. It’s not about who you support, its about the fact that lives are being lost. If you can do something about it, do it.

-TisAyeMate

Hello, 🌹♥️

I apologize for reaching out unexpectedly, but I am forced to contact you due to an urgent situation.

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

My name is Hani, and I want to assure you that I wouldn’t want to bother you under normal circumstances. However, I am in desperate need right now. I have a beautiful family , and I am doing everything I can to save them from the horrors of the war in Gaza. I reached out to you because I believe you are a kind and compassionate person 🫶, and I hope that if you can share our story, you won’t hesitate to do so.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

I’m not experienced with Tumblr, and I only came here to try to reach good people like you who can help amplify my family’s voice , hoping we might find someone who can help save them.  If you could reblog the pinned post on my account, I would be incredibly grateful.

🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀

If you are willing to contribute even more, you could also share our story on any other platforms where you have access.  With your help, we might be able to save them.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

If you have friends or know of large blogs on Tumblr, please don’t hesitate to ask them to reblog my post as well.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Please, can you reblog my pinned post 📌 on my account📍? 😔😞🌹

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Again, I apologize for the inconvenience, and I sincerely hope that reaching out to you will lead to a positive outcome in my desperate attempt to save my family from the war. 🕊️

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Thank you from the bottom of my heart ♥️

Ayo, help out if you can, there are people in need of help. I know some people just skim through some of these like it's no big deal but heck if it were us, we'd have to resort to doing the same thing (or something similar). It honestly doesn't matter who you support in this, people are dying by the hundreds and losing their sense of security. A reblog, share or comment goes a long way. Thanks

Finding Your Sky

Ron Weasley x Gryffindor! Reader Comfort Summary: When Ron Weasley feels down about his studies and his fallout with Hermione, a quiet Gryffindor steps in to help him regain his confidence, leading to a renewed friendship. AN: I just watched The Wild Robot, so I got inspired to write this

This fic was inspired by:

The library was eerily quiet, the kind of stillness that amplified the rustling of pages and the tapping of quills. Ron Weasley slumped at a table, surrounded by heaps of parchment and dusty textbooks. The dim light from the enchanted candles overhead cast shadows across his face, highlighting the furrow in his brow.

It had been a rough few weeks. The fallout with Hermione still weighed heavily on him, and his grades were slipping. He felt like he was losing ground—not just in his studies but in his friendships too. Harry was preoccupied with Quidditch practice and trying to keep up with his own studies, leaving Ron feeling more alone than ever.

“Blimey, Ron, you look like you’ve just seen a Boggart,” Harry remarked as he walked past, tossing a friendly grin his way. Ron offered a half-hearted smile in return, but it didn't reach his eyes.

“Thanks, mate,” he muttered, looking down at his notes. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was drowning in a sea of self-doubt.

Just then, a soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “Hey, Ron.” It was a Gryffindor girl from his year, a quiet one he had never really spoken to much. He recognized her from classes and had seen her in the common room, often lost in her books. She had a kind smile and an air of calm that intrigued him.

“Hi,” he replied, trying to mask his misery.

“You seem... I don’t know, a bit off,” she said, her tone gentle. “Everything okay?”

Ron shrugged, pushing his hair back in frustration. “Just trying to study for Potions. It’s a mess. Hermione’s... well, she’s not talking to me. I just feel like I’m failing at everything.”

She took a seat across from him, her eyes bright with understanding. “It’s normal to struggle, especially with everything going on. If you’d like, I could help you study? I know Potions can be tricky.”

Ron hesitated, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. “I don’t want to burden you.”

“You’re not a burden,” she insisted, leaning forward earnestly. “And I want to help. Everyone needs a little support now and then.”

His heart softened at her sincerity. “Alright, then. I could use the help.”

With that, they dove into his notes, her gentle guidance bringing clarity to the complicated theories of potion-making. Ron found himself relaxing in her presence, her laughter bubbling up over their shared frustrations and the absurdity of Snape’s assignments. It felt good to be reminded that he wasn’t alone in his struggles.

As they worked, he noticed her eyes sparkle with excitement when she explained a particularly tricky potion. “You see, when you add the powdered Dragon Liver at just the right moment, it creates a reaction that enhances the entire mixture!”

For the first time in ages, Ron felt a flicker of hope. “Really? I didn’t know that. You’re amazing at this!”

She blushed slightly, her cheeks tinged with pink. “Thanks! You just needed a different perspective, that’s all.”

Their laughter echoed softly in the library, and Ron could feel the weight of his worries lifting. By the end of their study session, he felt more confident, like he could actually face the challenges ahead.

“See? You’re not failing, Ron. You just needed someone to remind you how brilliant you really are,” she said with a smile.

“Yeah, well, it helps to have someone like you around,” he replied, feeling a warmth spread through him.

As they packed up their things, Ron couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. He wanted to include her in his world, to share that renewed confidence. “You know, Harry and Hermione are always looking for new friends in our group. You should join us sometime. I think you’d fit right in.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she smiled. “Really? I’d love that!”

“Great! We can sit together at the Great Hall tomorrow, and I’ll tell them all about your awesome Potions skills,” he said, his excitement bubbling over.

The next day, Ron introduced her to Harry and Hermione. To his relief, they welcomed her with open arms, and he couldn’t help but feel proud to have her by his side.

As they laughed and shared stories, Ron felt lighter, his confidence soaring higher than ever. He glanced at the girl beside him, her presence a comforting anchor in the whirlwind of his emotions.

Later, as the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the castle, Ron and his new friend walked outside, the golden light illuminating the path ahead. He took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill his lungs.

“Thank you for everything,” he said, glancing over at her. “You really helped me see things differently.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “Just remember, Ron, no matter how tough it gets, you have the power to rise above it. Kiss the sky, and don’t let anyone keep you down.”

In that moment, Ron felt something shift within him—a sense of belonging, a feeling that maybe he could conquer the challenges ahead, not just in his studies, but in his life as well.

And as he stood there, looking up at the expansive sky, he realized that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. With newfound confidence and a supportive friend by his side, he was ready to embrace whatever came next.