#season 1 you are a treasure

[dunmeshi-would-you-eat]

Senshi's "Treasure Insect Jam Sandwich"

[tsukimirecs]

BLUE LOCK // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works. credit for divider

itoshi rin

bitter truths

( i love you )

no fear

chose yourself too

love story

why are you at my door at 10:57pm?

wont you lend me your faith?

sweet glances

michael kaiser

voyeur to belonging

how to subtly show someone you're interested

seasons

when stars can't hold their weight, they explode

liebevoll

the instrument

anyone but you

bachira meguru

another word for homesick. (i want to say your name again)

heatwaves

rosy glasses

you arrive like a dream

yoichi isagi

you'll never find a love like mine

letters to a striker

the priorities of isagi yoichi

ravenous

seishiro nagi

my precious treasure(s)

one pure thing of intimacy an love

i'm your number 1

the obvious truth about nagi seichiro's girlfriend

your flower

reo mikage

stars you only see during the day

august 12th

[boobav]

!season 1

Viktor is, you've clearly observed, insecure of himself.

Quite valiantly, due to some looming social norm or personal feeling, he tries to hide it. But in moments like these, such an act becomes impossible. Try as he might, desperately at times, when he's pressed against you in the warm water, your fingers over his skin, your fingers in his hair, his failure is palpable.

"Are you okay?" You murmur into the nape of his neck, his back against your chest. The water threatens with gentle churns to spill over the bathtub.

He turns his head to press a kiss against your wrist.

"More than," he says, voice quiet but firm, "I just feel, sometimes," and he hums, as though forming an adequate description of his emotions were the hardest task on the planet. Viktor, your genius scientist, hesitant not to innovate, to change the world with his research, no. He's hesitant only to make sure he says the right thing to you.

"Like I'm too good for you?" You ask, catching his eye. By the gentle look you know that's what he means. He faces away again, nods in a vaguely ashamed way.

How, you've always wondered, can you truly change someone's perspective? When words don't seem to persuade, when actions bring only fleeting relief, what can you do?

"It's irrational, I know, some... flaw of the mind. You don't need to keep reassuring my senselessness." He leans into your touch, takes your free hand into his, soap suds bubbling between your fingers.

"Sometimes you talk about yourself like you're a machine, you know." You muse. He gives a half-hearted laugh.

"Not a well functioning one."

Are words or actions worth more in this game of convincing? Does he feel it deeper when you press your lips into his hair, or when you mumble compliments and honeysuckle words into his ear? He shivers either way.

It's a long game, you know. It's taken months to even reach this stage, where the self-deprication is a rarity, not the norm. Maybe it'll take his whole life before he can accept every part of himself like you can, before he can truly see himself through your eyes, gleaming and gem-speckled as they are.

You free your hand from his, reach up instead to knead shampoo into his thick hair. He responds with a sigh and sinks somehow further against you, the water falling slowly to a more lukewarm temperature. You're not sure how long the two of you have been in here, talking quietly about very little, exchanging words that'll disappear forever with the water. But you really can't find it in you to care.

There's work to be done, errands to run. Errands that should've been run a week ago. This ceremony, this meditation makes all of it null. For where else would you want to be? Where else exists besides here, this room, this moment, static in the cooling water with the embodiment of perfection.

When you tell it to him, as you so often do, when you tell him that he's perfect, he can't believe you. The first time you ever said it, peering into his eyes as if they held some secret treasure within, he thought you were joking. He'd laughed, more out of obligation than actual humour, but your expression remained still. Sincere. To say he was moved would be a wildly inadequate explanation. What he felt in his chest that night was something otherworldly, something without a name. He's come now to associate it simply with yours.

You run water through his hair, rinse out the shampoo as he lies pliant in your hands. He insists you use your soaps in his hair, some floral-scented collection you've used for who knows how long, because the smell reminds him of you.

There's no point in overthinking it, you suppose. No point in trying to map out and organise moods, emotions. No point in trying to turn a gentle human experience into something clinical, something without humanity.

That swirling, omnipresent yet transient concept of humanity. You simply must cradle it within your own. You press your lips into his wet hair, whisper words made of ginger and lavender into his ear. Because at the end of the day, you're human. You're in love. And sometimes, that's all that matters.

[husbandjoel]

we can’t be friends | bob reynolds pt. 2

read pt. 1 here!

summary: bob and you now navigate the implications of your curse by the TVA

pairing: bob reynolds x variant fem!reader

word count: 4.6k

content: angst and yearning on both ends, they’re in LOVE! fluff and honestly just self indulgence at this point. it’s christmas but reader doesn’t celebrate it, reader also has to wear a dress, swearing, more heavy use of dialogue, reader is v emotional and still an avid tea drinker. touch starved babes, eventual kissing but not how you would expect. tva inaccuracies again.

a/n: mwah ty for the love on part one! not proofread hehe. also i confess to not seeing s2 of loki so i’m none the wiser to anything past the first season

taglist: @amandarobertsboyce @micro-kat @kurogxrix @gavin-isstupid - tysm for reading 🫶

You woke up with a splitting headache.

Days had bled into weeks since the exposé on your deep dark secret, that you were not an Earth-616 Variant. Your existence did not belong amongst the chaos of this New York in all it’s anarchic glory. It was the perfect sweet spot, tucked deep into the belly of the TVA library, you had spent countless hours — no, minutes? — peeling pages upon pages out of manilla coloured folders, to find a Timeline which you could simply dissolve into the background of.

Earth-616. Plenty of things wrong with it. A handful of things right with it. Including the sole reason you had been arrested, fought off pruning, escaped and arrested thrice more. Robert Reynolds. A little wounded, an exponential amount of skeletons in his closet and you adored every corner of it.

It took a lot of background work, to ensure you had chosen a place that you could escape the prying hands of the TVA and locate Bob.

Your memory so vivid of that time. The paper cuts, calloused fingertips from endless paperwork being handled from the start of the day until the very end, where Mobius M. Mobius had tracked you down within the confides of the TVA and banished you to your room to sleep before the trial.

The sickening drench of the colour orange wherever you looked. Unable to rest, you’d pad around the infinite halls before slipping into the same room you had been thrown into the first incident that you had been arrested. No longer coated in fear, but grieving a loss of the life you knew still existed within the realms of time.

Lights flickered in the darkness, an image pooled upon the screen in front of you: VARIANT Y1097 FILES. An ache in your bones at the title, a sadistic element to your viewing of your own life. You’d press the button with hesitation, eyes wide with wonder over a treasured lifetime.

There he was. Hair a little shorter, but face all the same. Swamped in anxiety and self-deprecation, but his eyes poured with love whenever you watched the scenes between you two unfold. You two led a simple life in that Timeline, nested in New York City, adopted an all white mountainous feline, Sierra and even introduced the likes of therapy to Bob.

If you hadn’t come across the advertisement for Wonder Inc. taped to a lamppost just two blocks down from your apartment, you and Bob would be tethered for that lifetime. Your eyes welled as they always did, to the sight of your greyed hairs, thinner as Bob’s was cut short to maintain thickness on the top. Laughter lines plenty, hands spotted with age; you died first. The end of your tape concluding that you craved the simplicity of life with Bob Reynolds. No matter how you found it.

Your name was called. And for a moment, you felt the panic creep up the back of your neck. Sight blurred from being unfocused, you blinked back into the moment to see the man you had been daydreaming your lost life with.

If you could have, you would’ve smoothed the wrinkle set between his brows with worry.

“I lost you there.” He mumbled.

You always lose me.

You conjured up a smile, “Sorry. What were you saying?” You peered over your shoulder — as you always did — awaiting that familiar orange glow and TVA guards tenfold.

“It’s OK.” Bob started, “I was just mentioning that Yelena returned your files back to Valentina’s office.”

You visibly tensed. Back straightened, throat bobbed from a hard pill to swallow. Valentina Allegra de Fontaine was malice incarnate, she taunted you from the sidelines, her own version of a puppet with strings because one act of defiance, and she would be the one to make the call.

It had been two weeks since Bob had excavated the skeletons of your TVA file, it had led to a sudden bloom of friendship — to that you were thankful for — you routinely walked side by side to the kitchen in the dark mornings of December, shoulders brushed against the fabric of your clothes, subtle stolen glances at side profiles whilst the other was busy in their mind. To say it alarmed the rest of the team was an understatement. They thrived on the jest that Bob repelled you to the complete opposite side of the room, his heavy efforts not going unnoticed.

Now? You were practically joint at the hip.

It was a blessing and a curse. A curse that rained down as Valentina, heels clicking against the refurbished floor, pencil skirt to match the blazer as she sauntered into the kitchen with her sights set on you. Prepared to do anything, you turned your full attention to her pursed purple stained lips, a twitch in her right eye as she began to smirk with intent.

She spoke your name like it was a death sentence, “You didn’t happen to cross paths with a particular file during your admin work, did you?” You had shaken your head with vigour, fingers clenched around your designated tea drinking mug enough that you might’ve crushed it into dust. Valentina tilted her head, palms smoothed over the counter, “I’m missing a file. A very important one. I think we both know what I’m talking about.”

Yes. For two different reasons. One: Bob had stolen it in partial innocence — he sat beside you, sweat on his brow — and two: you wanted that file. The manipulative, devil in nature that brandished a white streak of hair, could publish your documents at any given time. Unleashing a relentless force, a sequence violation, and you would be right back where you started in the shackles of the TVA.

Hands tied, Bob — riddled with guilt — set Yelena the task of returning the file that Alexei had kept to use as a comically large bookmark. With a light snort after Bob questioned her capability of not being caught, Yelena slipped the dog-eared file back with nonchalance to her skill.

You would earn those files back. One day.

“Did I say something wrong?” Bob asked when you didn’t reply to his statement. He thought he had done right by restoring the cracked peace between you and Valentina. Visibly unravelled in nerves, you offered a warm smile and Bob softened.

“No. Thank you, Bob.” You meant it. Although the slight grit of your teeth said otherwise. Quick to change the subject, you added, “I hope you’re not a Kleptomaniac at tonight’s Christmas Gala.”

You, personally, didn’t celebrate Christmas. The Watchtower decked out in tacky decor with vintage LED lights that John Walker had torn from a building near by, just because he liked them. The team weren’t incredibly enthusiastic about the festivities, but, Valentina made it clear it was vital to your image as the New Avengers. Secret Santa gifts were a must!

Bob deflated. Socialising wasn’t his strong suit. A ticking time-bomb, he preferred to reside in the shadows whilst the rest of the team played the socialites role. However, he wasn’t getting out of the Christmas Gala — taken by Walker and Barnes to be fitted for a suit.

Things were different though.

He had you now. Things were different within two weeks, fourteen days, because of you. Suddenly, he felt anchored, validated in that odd feeling that clawed its way out from his stomach whenever he caught glimpses of you avoiding him. There were multiple versions of you, and multiple versions of him that belong together, written in the scripts of your lives. You existed, in your form that had Bob stumbling over his words, palms clammy when he caught the underlying note of your perfume, eyes lingering on you in meetings and, yet, he couldn’t have you.

Bob would tolerate the Gala; because you were there.

The question came as it always did.

“Is there a version of me that, that loves socialising?” Bob cringed at your expression. Rules had been set out. Rule one: Don’t ask about Bob Variants. That was it. But, you found a way to tell him in subtle blinking. One for yes. Two for no.

You blinked twice.

At least you still loved him in every timeline.

“I’ll see you later for the Gala.” You dropped from the barstool, and as you walked out of the kitchen, you called over your shoulder, “Don’t forget your Secret Santa gift!”

The sky grew black and snow began to cascade from the heavens above whilst the aristocrats of New York filtered into the Watchtower for the black tie event. Bob fiddled with the cufflinks of his suit as he waited beside Bucky who had helped him briefly to tie his bow tie. Failure to succeed, Bucky had unclipped his fake one and swapped with Bob to salvage any embarrassment bestowed upon the younger male.

The rest of the team trudged through from their rooms, freshened up to satisfy Valentina’s command. Yelena beelined for Bob, wearing a floral suit with her hair slicked back, a growing smile shown as she approached him.

“Look at you.” She patted his shoulder.

“Oh, thanks, Lena. I—You look cool.” Bob warmed in his face as Yelena posed from his compliment. He went to laugh, the joyful feeling caught in his throat and exchanged for a stammered, teenage whine when you entered the mouth of the foyer to greet guests. “Shit.”

There you were, confidence unshaken as you approached the rest of your team, figure exposed in a dress you hated but wore to keep Valentina’s threats at bay. Two wobbling Christmas trees clipped atop of your head, face beaming at your chosen family.

If you had a visible aura, it would be a glowing gold, Bob thought. Every part of you as beautiful as the next feature he stared at upon your face. His throat bobbed, a gentle elbow to his rib and he caught Yelena staring back at him with a brow quirked; he was quick to collect himself.

Your eyes trailed down Bob’s frame and back up to his face, his ears reddened as you pinned him under your playful gaze. You couldn’t kiss, that you were sure of. But, you’d ruffle his feathers a little for the sake of indulgent flirtations. Fingertips pinched the bow tie askew around his collar, his lung sucked in a breath from your closeness as you straightened it out. The closeness made Bob considerably dizzy. Months of longing to even sit next to you, had now flipped him on his head and shown him what closeness he really craved.

You patted his chest, “Handsome.”

Bob croaked, “Your dress—Good.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head with a nervous laugh, “I meant��”

“—I know. Thank you, Bob.”

“Ugh.” Yelena’s voice cut through the atmosphere, her right cheek filled with a striped Candy Cane, it left her mouth with a pop as she waved at you both, “This is disgusting. Are you guys falling in love?”

“What? No.” Bob was quick to cover tracks.

Then John Walker chimed in, “Oh yeah?” You both stared at him, oblivious to his next sentence, “Then why did I catch you two stumbling out of the Cleaners Cupboard two weeks ago? Huh?”

You looked to the comical Turkey hat on his head, eyes narrowed, “Your hat. Much better than that beret.”

Walker tightened his lips and Bucky — the voice of reason — stepped in with his hands up to settle the situation growing arms and legs. He had considerably aged in the presence of the Thunderbolts* turned New Avengers; grey hairs sprouted from the roots at his scalp.

Ushered by Bucky to enter the room where the highbrow, intellectual snobs resided in — Walker grabbing you in for a quick headlock — all beady eyes behind false pretences stared at the group with a few members missing, Ava and Alexei already mingling in their own way.

Yelena leant close to your ear, “Ten dollars goes to the first person to have a drink thrown over them.”

“Deal.” You mumbled, all of you dispersing into the crowd — Bob flipping between you and Yelena before subconsciously pulled in your direction.

Exercising your capability to talk the ear off of people, you used this to your advantage. Gesticulate in your manner, you became off-putting to the people you were made to socialise with. Faces screwed, and pearls clutched, most attendees would shuffle along — some skipping you completely — as you began to explain in depth about gruesome subjects that would make their eyes water.

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine watched you from afar, not to your knowledge, but she always did.

And she wasn’t impressed.

Once ridding a trio of politicians with some hard hitting trivia, you and Bob had made it to the long table displayed with hearty food for the buffet. You plucked cheese from the charcuterie board and grinned back at Bob who couldn’t bring himself to take food without permission.

His hands wrung, head swivelling to watch others around him. Self-conscious because, really, he didn’t belong mingling like this. He hadn’t said two words in the time you had pushed away five groups of strangers and it made him begrudgingly feel a little silly. But — again — you were you and it was becoming apparent that you balanced Bob Reynolds out. Where he lacked, you made up for.

Maybe there was a Variant of him and you that were the opposites of your personalities.

He would ask another time.

Head turned back to you when you offered a block of cheese in his face, Bob politely declined and you threw it into your mouth, satisfied and unaware of his own self-loathing.

“You look beautiful.” Bob blurted out. His own eyes wide as you stopped your chewing to stare through him and into his soul. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, “That is what I meant to say to you earlier.”

You took a hard swallow to rid your mouth of cheddar, “I think I like when you compliment me.”

Warmth spread across his chest like wildfire. A newfound sense of confidence as a lopsided smile graced his face in your confession. God, he wanted to fucking kiss you.

“Yeah?” He couldn’t believe his boldness.

“Look at this!” Alexei cut through any remainder of a conversation with his imposing voice. His tall stature loomed over you and Bob with a grin as wide to bare his teeth. Brows furrowed, you peered up to see a twig of green and white foliage hung above your heads. He feigned a gasp, “Mistletoe! Now—It’s Christmas rules. You must kiss.”

You dropped your gaze to Bob in a panic. The sudden softness shared between you replaced with perturbation. Hands reached for the branch and Alexei moved it higher above with ease. The sudden race of your heart could’ve been heard at the other end of New York when you felt heads turn to stare in anticipation. It could’ve been the worst outcome that you would be unable to explain to the team after enforcing rejection upon a silly tradition.

Bob felt the anxiety radiate off of you and he felt helpless. Gawping like a fish out of water, Bob couldn’t think of a solution to the problem. Alexei was determined in his bid for humiliation.

“Dad, you’re embarrassing them.” Yelena pointed out in defence from her comfortable position on a chaise lounge. Champagne dangling from her hand.

“Nonsense!” Alexei argued, “Do you fear kissing? Just a little peck.”

You shook your head with vigour, “No. We—I can’t do that, Alexei. Can you please take the Mistletoe away from us?” Alexei frowned, not understanding your point as he hovered it above Bucky Barnes, who was close in proximity to you. Bob’s eyes almost popped out of his skull as you called in frustration, “No, Alexei! Take it away completely!”

Albeit a little befuddled by your sudden outburst, Alexei persisted and held the foliage above you and Bob again. Earning a groan from your throat as you pinched the bridge of your nose. You looked to the glass in your hand, immediate in your action as you poured it down the front of your dress.

“Hey!” Yelena shouted, “That does not count!”

You stared at the reddened stain that seeped into the woven fabric of your dress, tears prickled your waterline as you looked back up at Bob who went to reach out to comfort you. The room felt hot, your clothes tighter than when you had first wiggled into them. Hushed tones of alarm over your actions made your face warm from your neck to the very top of your head.

Throwing Alexei daggers, you turned on your heel, bottom lip wobbled as you shoved past Bucky who tried to halt your advances out of the door.

Bob was hot on your heel, and Bucky managed to grapple his forearm, “What the hell happened?”

“I—I don’t know.” Yeah, he did. “I’m just going to make sure she’s OK.”

Bucky nodded and let Bob go.

Foot wedged between the closing doors of the elevator, you followed the leg up to see Bob prying them open. He huffed as he stumbled in, dusting off fake dirt on his suit jacket to retract any attention away from your silly outburst. You wiped at your tears, chin tucked to your shoulder to try remain hidden in your vulnerability.

It was torturous. Everyday a reminder that flayed at your skin, that you caused the greatest loss of your life. And now? You had to live within the same Watchtower as him, aware that any wrong move would unravel your hard work. Any moment of weakness, and loneliness in the shape of a TVA beige jumpsuit and shock collar would be your punishment.

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine would make sure of it.

Bob pressed the button to close the doors, “Cleaners Cupboard?” Where it all began. He peered at you with a sympathetic look, his fingers twitched at his sides to soothe you by his touch.

“Sure.” You smiled meekly.

It took no time to reach the Cleaners Cupboard, Bob held the door open for you and gestured for you to walk in first as if you were entering The Ritz. He followed you in, door clicked shut and he pulled the toggle to illuminate the tiny shack of a room. Your face glowed under the light, tear stricken but a little humorous with the miniature trees that wobbled on your head.

Throwing his shyness overboard, Bob reached for your hand, gentle in his tracing of your wrist before settling his finger between yours.

“‘M sorry.” You mumbled like a scolded child.

It turned out that this Variant of Bob had a strike of confidence in your moment of weakness.

He shook his head, “You don’t have to apologise.” A squeeze to your hand and a drop of his head to meet your eyes, “It hurts you. I know it does.”

You remained silent.

Bob took a step closer — which you had thought would be impossible in such a tiny room.

“I know it hurts you, because, without witnessing what you have witnessed, it somehow hurts me,” He took your hand and placed it on his chest to feel the thrum of his heart, “Right here.”

Fingers flush against his warm chest, you watched your hand for a moment before returning Bob’s eye contact. You were exposed at the core of your emotions, hard exterior cracked as your own demons shone through.

Sobered by his sudden assertiveness, you let your jaw slacken, his judgement clearly clouded by his own harboured feelings. Yet, you found yourself still as Bob brought you to him. Bodies now flush, desperation clung in the air just to be able to touch each other in a tender moment.

“I want to kiss you.” Bob nudged your nose with his, his breath touched your lips as his eyelids grew heavy with the lust for a simple kiss. It was easy to slip into submission, throw caution to the wind and allow yourselves the indulgence of each other.

You leant into his touch, his thumb smoothed against your jawline. A wicked form of torture as the TVA would have you pruned from existence the moment their screens flickered from the kiss. It was the hardest motion you had made — moving away from Bob — your forehead pressed to his shoulder with a groan muffled.

“We can’t.” You pulled back and Bob tracked your face, eyes occasionally dropping to the plump of your lips. You continued, “I can’t go through umpteen loopholes with the TVA again. In fact, I don’t think even Mobius would be able to salvage my reputation.”

“Mobius?” Bob queried and you waved him off. Long story, he guessed.

“If there was a way, Bob, I’d have kissed you the moment I met you. Trust me. My impulsive control is award-winning.” Your shoulders deflated, defeated by your own imprisonment, “If there was a way we could kiss and not have our lips touch, that would be the solution to all of our problems.”

Bob leant back on the heels of his feet, his fingers thread between yours as he mulled over your throw away comment.

If a lightbulb could’ve blinked above his head, it would have.

He straightened his posture with urgency, his hand left yours as he turned on his heel to search through the cluttered shelves. You watched over his shoulder, his frantic rummaging made your expression drop to medium concern. Bob was mumbling to himself before he drew out a long rod of Saran Wrap; gleeful in his findings.

You stood still on the spot as he turned back to you, desperately ripping at the relentlessly fiddly plastic, chucking the roll onto the floor and presenting you with the shortened Saran Wrap as if it were a precious reward.

“Wow. Nice.” You blinked and Bob rolled his eyes playfully.

“Think about it. If—if there was a way that we could kiss where our lips don’t touch.” He pulled at either end of the plastic wrap, “It’s a loophole. I found a loophole for us.” He smiled, suddenly feeling insecure, “That’s if you—if you would like to kiss.”

You shot Bob an incredulous look, “Are you kidding me?”

Oh no. Bob felt his pride falter. He had misread your signals. You snatched the cut Saran Wrap from his grasp, immediate in your action to pull it taught against your lips before yanking Bob in by the neck. He yelped from your sheer force, his hands flying out to the side as you planted a hefty kiss against his lips — a thin loopholed barricade between you — whilst your arms wrapped around his neck to hold him as tight as possible.

Wide-eyed, Bob whimpered out, his brain short-circuiting after computing that you were kissing. You and Bob. As it was written in the stars for every version of you two out in the universe. His stiffened body relaxed, a satisfied, low hum elicited from the back of his throat as he melted into your touch. Your index finger came to twirl the locks of hair at the nape of his neck, goosebumps rose on his arms before he let his hands guide themselves to your waist.

It was everything you had been anticipating. The ache of longing foretold in every arrest, punch to the gut from a TVA guard, and nights spent in a cell awaiting your trial. Headaches from research trying to find Bob Reynolds without his own Variant soulmate, where you could slip into his life without ever pressuring him to fall deeply for you. If adoring Bob from afar was meant for your lifetime within the Sacred Timeline; then you’d spend everyday relishing in his presence.

This, however? Was so much more.

You pulled back, the sudden creep of anxiety began to creep its fingers over your shoulder. Bob followed your lips, his eyes closed as he almost cried out to you to never stop kissing him. Perhaps, you began to panic, Bob hadn’t found a miraculous loophole and you waited to hear the all too familiar noise of the TVA storming the Watchtower.

Ear perked as you peeled the wrap from your mouth, Bob plucked it from your fingers and placed it to his mouth, the plastic moulded to his lips as he pressed them against the corners of your mouth. You could’ve been distracted if it weren’t for the burning fear that you had made a grave mistake. Then, as if miracles existed, there was no sudden rush from TVA guards. You remained against Bob, your hearts joint in quickened pace, relief drowned your senses.

Bob had found a loophole.

“You have,” Bob kissed you, “No idea,” Another plastic wrapped kiss, “How badly, I’ve wanted to do this.”

You grinned into his lips, “I think you’re showing me now.”

Bob hummed, one last kiss to savour you in the Cleaners Cupboard before he pulled back and peeled the Saran Wrap off of his lips. Hair slightly wild from your grabs, you both shared a laugh at the absurdity of your situation, your hands smoothing the tufts of hair back into place. It was ridiculously unreasonable, but the pair of you would celebrate your wins.

There was an invisible string attached to the pair of you after all.

Bob scratched at his brow, “I—Uh—Can I give you my Secret Santa present?"

“Bob.” You were monotonous in your tone, “The hint is in the name. Secret. But, OK. You funnily enough, were my Secret Santa, too. I left your present downstairs and I don’t fancy going back in my wine stained dress to fetch it.”

“Later.” Bob waved it off, “Just. . . Wait here. I think you’ll like it.”

You nodded and hastily, Bob pulled the plastic film across his lips to press a chaste one to yours before he exited the Cleaners Cupboard to retrieve your Not-So-Secret Santa gift whilst running on a high from kissing you in the very cupboard he found out that you were essentially soulmates until the end of time.

Arms folded, you leant your head back in disbelief. If it was acceptable, you may have let out a scream of gratification.

Immediately distracted, your eyes dropped to the warm orange glow that slid from the bottom of the door you hid behind. Brows pinched, you smiled in curiosity; awaiting Bob on the other side with his gift in hand.

“Bob?” You called, “What the hell did you get me?”

Bob returned to the Cleaners Cupboard, peering from behind the largest Monstera plant he could find in all of New York City. An ode to a reference that earned him the knowledge of your cold shoulder two weeks prior. He had played over the joke he would tell you when he handed it over, tinsel wrapped around the stem of it.

With minor struggle, Bob twisted the doorknob to the cupboard, “Alright. Here you go—” The emptiness of the room made Bob stop at the threshold. Eyes drifted down, he caught a glimpse of the headband you had worn with the two Christmas trees glued to it.

Bob felt nauseous.

Carelessly, he dropped the Monstera plant, the terracotta pot smashed upon impact. He replaced it in his grasp with the headband you had adorned just a few moments prior. When you two were kissing. Loophole kissing — he was so sure of it. Bob turned to look outward into the hallway and then back into the cupboard where he felt his heart clamp down in an iron vice.

The realisation hit and he called out your name softly.

[hritika13-tamboli]

Jeon Jungkook Fic Recs List 1...

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Series :

Lone blue egg || Penguin Hybrid Jungkook x Bird Female OC | Hybrid au || @foxymoxynoona

Summary : Jungkook is a simple man. He goes to work, he hangs out with friends, he worries about finding a mate to take home for his hometown breeding season. Maybe he spends a little more money on cam girls than is fiscally responsible but he has niche tastes. Maybe he feels a bit adrift, but he's a young penguin hybrid, supposedly in his prime, far from his crèche. At least he's good at one thing: taking care of his precious egg. A comfort egg, not a real egg, he's not a real penguin, just a man with penguin DNA and behavioral tendencies. Just like Yoongi isn't actually an owl, even if he does stay up all night and sometimes hoot to fuck with their roommates. But this is a real love story, even if a slightly odd one.

Summer Nights || Rabbit!Hybrid Jungkook x Y/N | Hybrid au || @marginalmadness

Summary : A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long...will it?

Evocation || Dragon!Jungkook x human?Reader | Hybrid au || @bonny-kookoo

Summary : Every year, he joins the old tradition of traveling, where his ancestors have once ruled the skies. Every year, he meets familiar faces and new ones he's never seen before. Every year, he watches how his brothers find their mates, build their families, and introduce new generations to stories as old as time. But this year, something might be different. This year, there's you - a treasure worth more than he could ever offer.

4-7-8 || Jungkook x reader | marriage au || @jiminrings

Summary : you’re secure when it comes to loving jungkook, knowing that your husband loves you beyond words. what you aren’t so secure about is his first love — someone who isn’t you. alternatively, jungkook’s married to you, but he still celebrates his anniversary with his ex out of sentimentality.

Love sewn || Jungkook x reader | boy next door au || @jvnghxope

Summary : You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

Sweet tooth || Rottweiler hybrid!Jungkook x Cat hybrid!Reader | Hybridau || @bonny-kookoo

Summary : Yoongi and Jimin are each proud owners of hybrids, and these days, slowly falling in love with one another. And everything could be so perfect- if it wasn't for you absolutely resenting Jungkook- for no reason?

Alpha jeon || Jungkook x reader | werewolf au || @pbandjk

Summary: You’ve been raised to be a Luna since you were born. You’ve always had an idea of how your future would be, there was little room to imagine anything different. You’d meet your mate and fall madly in love, and the two of you would take over for your parents once they got older. But what happens when a certain wolf comes in and throws all of your plans on their head?

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane || Jungkook x reader | college au || @taexual

 Summary : jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

Please love me || Jungkook x reader | childhood friends au | arrange marriage au || @ahundredtimesover

Summary : As the only unmarried Jeon and Kim children, your families propose a union to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. But despite developing an affection for Jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. You’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t.

Rattled || Jungkook x reader | guy next door au | single dad au || @gukslut

Summary : "Jeongguk?" His chin quivers and he bites at his bottom lip, clenching his jaw as his eyes flood with tears, meeting Jin's questioning gaze as he collapses against Jin's broad shoulder, sobbing. Jeongguk struggles to make words come out of his mouth.Jin holds him tightly, not speaking, just waiting, trying to put the mess of puzzle pieces together in a way that might make sense. Finally, Jeongguk sucks in a heaving breath."I had a baby," he sputters out. "That's my baby.""I didn't know this baby existed eight hours ago," he chokes out, sniffling.

Lacrymaria olor || Alien!King!Jungkook x Human!Reader | alien au || @bonny-kookoo

Summary : In which you've survived on this foreign planet for more than two years until you're caught and brought to the King, who will decide your fate.

Bitchin || fratboy!jungkook x reader | 1980s au || @kinktae

Summary : The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

Under your skin || tattoist!jk x fem!reader | tattoo au || @armpirate

Summary : You were awful on anything related to flirting, guys and sex. He was the perfect ladies man. You wanted to get rid of your virginity. And he was there to help you with everything you needed. You didn't have the best start, but that didn't mean you wouldn't have the best of the endings.

Unstable || Alien!Jungkook x Human!Reader | dystopian AU || @bonny-kookoo

Summary : Wrong place, wrong time, wrong everything. And yet, maybe it's not as bad as you thought.

☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆

One-shot :

Idealizations concerning real life relations || jungkook x reader | fuckboy!jk x hopeless romantic!oc | fwb au || @venusiangguk

Summary : jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

Night After Night || Fuckboy bf! Jungkook x Reader | Established relationship au || @brown-bi-beautiful

Summary : "Show you what devotion is, deeper than the ocean is".... You broke up with your boyfriend because he couldn't let go of his fuckboy antiques now he's gonna win you back whatever it takes.

If i told you || two-shots | Jungkook x reader | friends to lovers!au | college!au || @gukyi

Summary : in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

Scattered stars || two-shots | Jungkook x reader soulmate!au | fantasy!au || @taegularities

Summary : “And with that, a picture of Jungkook flashed into your mind, his fingertips caressing your cheek and his gentle and affectionate smile sending shivers down your spine as you admitted to yourself that yes - you wanted him.“

Welcome to the heartbreak show || kind-of-tsundere!jungkook x female!reader | college au || @numinousher

Summary : you’re in love with your partner in class that everyone fears (and loves) due to his stoic facial expression and the way he rejects girls rather harshly. as you get to know him, will he be able to handle your heart that you so willingly gave him to care for or, will he break it due to his hatred for people who are in love with him?

In which she's done with him || Jerk jungkook x reader | unrequited love || @minstrivia

Summary : Jungkook angst/fluff where he always pushes oc away (who confesses her feelings but was cruelly rejected) and insults her but she always comes back to take care of him when he’s drunk or picks him up from his one night stands and she finally decides to leave him alone !! happy ending!

Angel in the marble || michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader | high renaissance au || @venusjeon

Summary : after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

i can't wait to tell you, "i told ya'." || Single dad Jungkook x reader | Best friend au || @serendipitous-seven

Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a successful realtor with a big house, a nice car, colorful dating life, and a spunky 7-year-old daughter to boot…he’s also your best friend who you used to be in love with. Of course, he was never made aware because you swear it’s all in the past…until it isn’t. But going on a cruise with Jungkook and his daughter whom you adore should be harmless. Absolutely nothing can go wrong…Right?

Los Angeles Laker || nba player jungkook x reader | nba au || @xpeachesncream

Summery : being one of the most popular players in the nba, jungkook takes absolutely no shit from anybody. he could give a fuck about the press, what people think about him, serious relationships. it’s a personal hell getting wrapped up with jeon jungkook— and you can’t help but fall into the same trap as every other woman who crosses paths with him. the more you fall, the more you realize that you will never be able to change a man who doesn’t want to change his ways.

[spitefulsatanfics]

✦ 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓸𝔂 ✦

❝You know, I’ve been thinking… I’d die for her. I’d kill for her. And not just because I love her — because she’s my family.❞

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Hunter!Y/N (She/Her Reader) From: Supernatural (TV Series) Tones: soulmate-level sweetness, soft domesticity, lovesick Dean, injury angst, hunter x hunter banter, established relationship, fluffy romance, protectiveness, emotional vulnerability, one-bed trope vibes

Rating: 18+ (mild injury, swearing, heavy emotional intensity, physical intimacy — minors do not interact)

✎ 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 ♡ written and published May 29, 2025™ Based on: Supernatural, Seasons 1–2 (no specific episode — canon-adjacent storyline) (Note: Show is rated 17+)

Synopsis: Y/N gets the honor of driving Dean’s most sacred possession: the Impala. But one drunk driver, one wrecked car, and one shaky phone call later, she realizes she was never just his passenger. She is the thing he treasures most.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The call came at 9:27 PM.

Dean’s phone rang from inside his jacket pocket where it hung on the back of a rickety motel chair. He was halfway through cleaning his favorite sawed-off when the shrill buzz set his pulse on edge. There weren’t many people who had that number. Sam was in the next room, grabbing takeout. Bobby always called the landline. That left one person.

You.

And sure enough— Y/N was glowing across the screen in stark white letters.

He answered it in less than a second.

“Sweetheart?” he said immediately, already on alert. There was a siren wailing faintly in the background—far too close for his liking.

“Hey, I—uh…” your voice came through ragged, breathless, like you’d just been running or crying or both. “I need you to not freak out.”

Dean’s heart plummeted straight to the motel carpet. He was already out of his seat, boots hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

“Where are you?”

“I’m okay,” you rushed out, panicked and shaking. “I mean—I think I’m okay. Just scraped up. But Baby—Dean, I’m so sorry. The car—”

The line went blurry with static for a second, but he’d already heard everything he needed to.

A crash. An apology. The word “Baby.”

Dean didn’t even need directions. He’d find you—if he had to rip up every road sign in Kansas to do it.

He was gone before Sam even made it back with dinner.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The car was barely recognizable.

She lay crooked at the shoulder of the road, one headlight blinking like a dying firefly. The passenger door was warped in on itself, hood twisted open like a jawbone snapped mid-scream. And then there was you—sitting on the bumper of the ambulance, legs swinging like a schoolgirl trying to pretend she wasn’t bleeding through her jeans.

Dean didn’t speak. He just jogged across the gravel, dropped to his knees in front of you, and cupped your face in his calloused hands like you were spun from smoke and starlight.

You tried to joke. “Didn’t even dent the paint, right?”

His hands trembled. His jaw clenched. His lips parted like he wanted to say something that wasn’t a prayer.

But all he managed was, “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head. “No. I mean, not really. Just bruised, maybe a cracked rib. EMTs checked me out. Said I was lucky.”

Lucky.

God. He’d never hated a word more. Because you weren’t lucky. You were a damn miracle. Breathing, warm, alive in front of him. That car could be rebuilt. But you?

You weren’t replaceable.

“I thought you’d be mad,” you admitted softly. The sentence cracked at the end, a jagged edge slicing through all your bravery. “About the Impala. I know how much she means to you.”

Dean’s thumb brushed over your cheek, sweeping away a streak of blood you hadn’t noticed. His eyes—green like a stormy coast, wild and wide—locked on yours with so much force it almost hurt to look back.

“Y/N,” he said, voice raw, “I love that car. You know I do. But if it was you or her…”

His throat caught. He looked down, like the truth was too big to stare in the face.

“She’s just steel,” he whispered. “You’re everything else.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It was quiet in the motel room that night. You sat on the edge of the bed in one of Dean’s old t-shirts, the smell of leather and motor oil cocooning you like armor. Your ribs ached, your body throbbed in patches of dull heat and yellowed bruises. But you’d never felt safer.

Dean returned from the bathroom with a warm cloth, kneeling beside the bed like he couldn’t stand being even an inch higher than you right now. His fingers moved with reverence—cleaning your scrapes, pressing bandages, whispering apologies into the dips of your skin like your body was holy.

“Y’know,” he said, half-smiling, “I only let you drive her ‘cause I trust you more than anyone else.”

You gave a wobbly smirk. “Guess I broke that trust, huh?”

His hand froze on your thigh. His eyes darkened—not angry, but gutted.

“No,” he said. “Never.”

You blinked. “Dean…”

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. His voice was gravel and gravity all at once.

“I could’ve lost you,” he murmured. “And you’re sitting here worried about my car.”

You swallowed. The truth hit you like a tidal wave.

“You really mean that?”

He pulled back, just enough to look at you clearly. His hand slipped to the back of your neck.

“Y/N,” he said, slow and certain, “you’re not just some girl I date. You’re not a partner in the field. You’re…” He laughed under his breath, almost bitter. “You’re the thing I pray to when I’m bleeding out. You’re what I see when I close my eyes. You are my home.”

You didn’t say anything. You just kissed him—long, slow, desperate.

It tasted like grief and gasoline and relief all tangled into one. It tasted like everything he thought he lost, now found again.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Later, with the light off and the storm moving in through the windows, Dean wrapped himself around you like a shield. His hand was splayed over your ribs, gently, as if he could take the pain into himself. His breath was warm against your hair.

“I’ll fix her,” he murmured. “She’ll run again.”

You nodded sleepily. “And me?”

He chuckled softly, kissed the nape of your neck.

“You don’t need fixing,” he said. “You’re my pride and joy.”

You turned over to face him, voice low and teasing. “Isn’t that your car’s title?”

His smile was so soft, it felt like a sunrise.

“Used to be.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[wolfofansbach]

BEING A LIST OF THE THIRTEEN GREATEST RIVERDALE LINES, ON THE OCCASION OF THAT SHOW'S TERMINATION

As our much loved/hated show comes to an end, I feel compelled to record, for posterity, the greatest thirteen pieces of dialogue to spring from the pens of RAS and his henchmen. It was, of course, originally a top ten list, but I simply could not exclude a few of these treasures. Without further ado: 

13. 

“I dropped out in the 4th grade, to sell drugs, to support my nana.” 

“That means you haven't known the triumphs and defeats, the epic highs and lows of high school football.” 

Spoken by: an inmate of Leopold and Loeb Juvenile Detention Center, and Archie Andrews. 

In: 3 x 2 

Yeah, okay, this one had to be on the list. It’s funny, I’ll admit. It’s a great example of the overwrought semi-sincere melodrama that helped make this show so special. It’s low on the list largely because The Normies got their hands on it, so every time I hear someone make a reference I get all “do not cite the deep magic to me, witch.” 

12. 

“No! No! What are we supposed to do now? I’m horny as heck!”

Spoken by: Archie Andrews 

In: 7 x 16

Season 7 is undeniably dreadful, and yet there are diamonds in the rough. The occasion is the failure of a projector, just as Archie and Reggie prepare to watch a pornographic film. The utter desperation with which KJ Apa delivers this line is exquisite. One is made to feel they are witnessing a genuine tragedy. 

11. 

“Tonight, they’re making an exception and debuting a cover of the song my parents claim they were listening to the night Jason and I were conceived.” 

Spoken by: Cheryl Blossom. 

In: 1 x 1 

Really a fantastic line. A wonderful encapsulation of the casual absurdity of Cheryl’s character, and a foretaste of the lunacy we would plumb in later episodes and seasons. 

10. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t fit in and I don’t want to fit in. Have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? That’s weird.” 

Spoken by: Jughead Jones

In: 1 x 10

A genuine classic. “High school football” before “high school football.” One is never entirely sure just how sincere the line is meant to be, both on a meta-level and in-universe. A perfect illumination of Jughead’s pretentiousness. It is made all the better by the occasional cuts to Lili Reinhard’s agonized face. 

9. 

“At the last dance, multiple students were murdered.” 

Spoken by: Principal Holden Honey. 

In: 4 x 2

Delivered as an explanation to Toni and Cheryl, as to why there would be no school dance this year. Principal Honey is in fact supremely rational in the cancellation of this dance. This being Riverdale, he is of course treated as an unreasonable tyrant. 

8. 

“Bro, I know all the secrets of this universe.” 

Spoken by: Archie Andrews (evil version)

In: 6 x 5 

Spoken as evil Archie reveals his evil plan to keep the parallel universes apart. KJ Apa’s delivery once again makes this line. He is comically sinister. Strangely, he sells it. 

7. 

“A Vughead kiss, right now, in the present might be precisely what it takes to save a future Bughead from imploding.” 

Spoken by: Jughead Jones. 

In: 2 x 14

One of those lines that both makes me laugh and makes me genuinely angry. This was a fairly early season, and this may have actually been the first line to get me asking, ‘did they genuinely write and deliver that?’ Extra points for use of the atrocious ‘Vughead’ portmanteau ship name rather than ‘Jeronica.’ 

6. 

“I’m the ultimate wild card. I am the daughter of The Black Hood. The nightmare from next door. I’m training with the FBI and I’m coming for you, you psycho bitch.” 

Spoken by: Betty Cooper

In: 4 x 14 

Just delicious. Another one of those lines that leaves you somewhat unsure whether or not the writers understood how genuinely hysterical it was. “The Nightmare from Next Door” sounds like an announcer hyping up a wrestler. Spoken with a raw sincerity by Lili Reinhart. Also points for the heavy homoeroticism between Betty and Donna. 

5. 

“For I am Cheryl Blossom, Queen of the Bees.” 

Spoken by: Cheryl Blossom.

In: 5 x 16. 

This one really doesn’t require any elaboration. 

4. 

“Elijah ascended…and I will, too.” 

Spoken by: Edgar Evernever.

In: 4 x 5. 

Admittedly, this one is only spectacular with context. But in context—the context being that Chad Michael Murray delivers this line while dressed like Evel Knievel and standing in a cartoon rocket right out of a Warner Bros cartoon—it becomes utterly magnificent. 

3. 

“It’s not queer baiting, it’s saving the world.” 

Spoken by: Veronica Lodge. 

In: 6 x 22. 

It’s actually hard for me to decide whether this one is funnier with or without context. Without context it’s wonderful, but it possibly becomes even funnier when you know that the context is that Veronica needs to kiss Cheryl to transfer superpowers into her body so she can turn into a Scarlet Witch knock-off and stop a magic comet summoned by Sephiroth an English wizard who is also the Devil. 

2. 

“If there’s no wedding reception, it means the Gargoyle King has won.” 

Spoken by: Kevin Keller. 

In: 3 x 12.

One of my personal favorites. This is a perfect line because like #3, it requires no real elaboration. There is absolutely no context in which it isn’t hysterical. 

1 .

“Word of my exploits serving Nick his comeuppance has seeped into the demimonde of mobsters and molls my father used to associate with, so the five families are sending their youngest and brightest, their ‘princes,’ as it were to, well, come court the rare Mafia Princess who can belly up to the bar with the big boys.

Spoken by: Veronica Lodge. 

In: 2 x 20. 

This is, in my opinion, the all-timer. Every word is perfect. The rapid-fire alliteration. The use of the word ‘demimonde.’ The entirely unnecessary addition of ‘as it were.’ This is borderline Dr. Seuss. The fact that Camila Mendes delivered it without cracking a smile should have won her an Emmy. No. An Oscar. This line is Riverdale. 

[mr-and-mr-mitchell]

Shows that got cancelled despite being good, popular, and having tonnes of potential to go on to become classics:

Kaos - 1 season - Netflix - Ends with set up for a following season

Shadow and Bone - 2 seasons - Netflix - Season 3 was already mostly written when cancelled

My Lady Jane - 1 season - Amazon Prime - Story not resolved, set up for a second season (in fact the show shows you what's supposed to happen in the second season)

Half-Bad: The Bastard Child and the Devil Himself - 1 Season - Netflix - Main story wrapped up but easily open enough for a second series exploring the world

Star Wars: The Acolyte - 1 season - Disney Plus - First series feels mostly like set up for a second series we'll now never get

Dead Boy Detectives - 1 season - Netflix - Set up for a second series with a minor cliff hanger and an open continuation for the characters

Lockwood and Co - 1 season - Netflix - Potential for a second season

I Am Not Okay With This - 1 season - Netflix - Story not properly resolved, needed a second season

National Treasure: Edge of History - 1 season - Disney Plus - Story concluded, but lots of potential for a second season

Gentleman Jack - 2 Seasons - HBO Max/BBC - So much more potential, it had so much real life basis it could have followed

Our Flag Means Death - 2 Seasons - HBO Max - I actually liked the ending we got, but I feel like the show had more potential, particularly with the crew

First Kill - 1 season - Netflix - (Not one I watched, it was on my tbw but it got cancelled and I didn't see the point)

Grease: Rise of The Pink Ladies - 1 season - Disney Plus - So much more potential And Insult to injury they've all but wiped it from the platform

A running theme for these shows are that they have a pretty high amount of LGBT rep, with a lot of these shows centering on queer characters and stories, as well as representation for POC. There are also a lot of fantasy/supernatural shows.

I just find it fascinating that there seems to be a lot of similarities between most of these shows.

[vamptarot]

Ten Things That Are F### Cool About You | PAC

pile one pile two pile three

how to choose a pile . . . choose which picture you are most drawn to or close your eyes, breath and read the one your eyes land on! ᡣ𐭩

— ⭑.ᐟ today I saw a pick a card that not only pissed me off but also disgusted me due to how mean the reader was in every single pile. I checked. their egoistic approach annoyed me. instead of spreading hate, I wanted to remind you why you are an awesome person. not proof read.

pile one : - cold drink !

𐙚 : the high priestess, eight of wands, nine of wands reversed, death

bottom of the deck: five of wands

♡ ⢷ why you are so cool

1. You always research about a topic before talking about it! I think this is very cool because a lot of people spread misinformation without even knowing it and that’s why fake fun facts exist. You are not like that though! You feel a sense of responsibility and thirst for knowledge, which in itself makes you a reliable person. - and source! -

2. You protect those who cannot stand up for themselves and I think that is very cool! Usually, you might have a hard time standing up for yourself but if it’s someone more vulnerable than you then you will give your all. You will raise your voice, yell, make valid arguments and even fight if necessary. - This differs person to person but the imaginary I am getting is protecting children, animals, women and young teens (from creeps to be exact) -

3. You work on yourself and enter new beginnings even if it’s scary at times, it can be hard and scary but that doesn’t make you back off from actually trying your best to become someone that you can be proud of. There is always a sense of hope within you that is very admirable.

4. You know how to keep privacy! A lot of people don’t, and don’t value it as much as they should. Having a healthy boundary with privacy is a privilege not many realise they have.. also, if you happen to share an intimate moment with someone you don’t run your mouth but rather treasure it as a memory as a form of respect.

5. Some people in this pile have temper issues, obviously, don’t take it if that doesn’t apply to you but I am seeing that for those of you who can resonate with that you are doing a really good job keeping it under control. You are not a hot headed person.

6. You are very experimental with looks! I do think this makes you a very beautiful person, because there are several things that suit you and look cool on you. If you like taking pictures I hope you know that you look beautiful and gorgeous in each one of them, one day you will look back at them with a smile even if you didn’t like that one thing because at least you gave it a try.

7. Zero judgment detected in your soul. Seriously, you could be the sort of person that never freaks out at people’s ‘hear me out’s but rather just go ‘yep, I get why you are into that’ even though you have no attraction to whatever character or person they said. You get their point, it’s just not one that you will make.

8. My fashion babies in this pile are slaying each and every time! You could take dressing fashionable in a seasonal manner mildly seriously. You don’t expect everyone to do it, but it’s most definitely something you take a lot of joy in. It’s really cool, your style is a 10/10. - Yes, even if you change it up often. -

9. Even if you are anxious you can do things so incredibly well. You remind me of a video I once saw of a girl with anxiety making a phone call, her hands were shaking uncontrollably the whole time but she didn’t stop being polite and kind. I think that’s you. Even in moments of being scared, you are kind to people.

10. You have such a beautiful voice. I mean your singing voice, but if you are not confident in that this could of course mean your regular speaking voice too. There is something comforting and yet bittersweet about your voice. It makes people feel home at times when they are sad.

— ✮⋆˙ die with a smile - bruno mars & lady gaga , ‘good luck babe’, 2003 , enha photoshoots , guitar injuries (from the string breaking) , white dahlias , glitter videos (those 2021 ones) , ‘good luck, charlie!’ , wavy hair , not well known ethnicity , taurus , capricorn , pisces

that’s all my beautiful pile one! I do think you happen to be very shy, but I do hope that you know that you genuinely have so much love to offer. there is much more to you than what you show the world, but I think you already know that. thank you for reading

paid readings

pile two : - peace sign ! ✌🏻

𐙚 : page of pentacles, eight of swords reversed, queen of wands, five of pentacles reversed, page of cups reversed, the star reversed

bottom of the deck: judgement

♡ ⢷ why you are so cool

1. YOU THINK YOU ARE SO COOL AND MYSTERIOUS BUT YOUR HEART IS FULL OF LOVE AND KINDNESS 🫵🏻 YOU TREASURE YOUR LOVED ONES AND WOULD RATHER SACRIFICE YOURSELF THAN TO EVER SEE THEM SUFFER !!YOU ARE SENSITIVE AND LOVABLE !!!!!!!!!

2. After all that you have went through you are still here and you are still standing. All that happened but rather than it destroying you completely or bringing you down you allowed yourself to heal and I am very proud of you for that.

3. Your judgement of people are very great! Of course if you don’t like someone of have mean thoughts of them you will keep it to yourself in order to not upset anyone, but you are still really good at telling their personality by their behaviour. Other people might not know but you do.

4. You are a secret little romantic! I bet it makes you shy to express your emotions outward and so freely. Truth to be told, you want to experience so much romantic things and wish to think of them without experiencing negative emotions. This makes you cool because even though you have a hard time with it, you know it’s a part of you and accept it.

5. You are so kind to animals, take care of them and most people reading this pile have a pet too. I think animals are just naturally drawn to you regardless of what they are. - as in pet, stray or wild animal. - It’s like they know they can be safe with you.

6. ‘You can slap a bitch if you need to’. Literally, that’s what I heard.. and I think most people here take pride in it too right? Just make sure to not get into unnecessary fights. It’s not what makes you cool though. It’s that you keep to your word. If you say you are gonna do it, you really will.

7. A lot of you find comfort in the stars and moon. In an aesthetic sense, but also there is a deep sense of appreciation for them that not many people have. They just put you in awe. If you are into astrology you have such a deep and profound understanding of it. One that not many people have.

8. Honestly, your view of life is sort of clouded and not completely “whole” but that’s alright. Exactly because day by day you do your best to learn and never turn an opportunity to see life from a wider perspective down, even if you might have done this in the past.

9. You are sooo talented, and you don’t even realise that. You are amazing in creating things; anything that is physical. This is especially true if you like jewellery, as I think designing or just making your own craft is something that you would/could enjoy doing if you put your own unique twist into it. It’s just something that makes you feel alive.

10. You are so confident! Even if you might not always feel like it, on the outside you always appear confident and aware of your surroundings. Someone composed who wants to present themselves in the best way possible. - You probably pay a lot of attention to your posture. -

— ✮⋆˙ ‘I don’t even wanna do this anymore’ , homework from 1 am ‘til 4am , 9 to 5 , jean purses ? , ditto - new jeans , a bent photocard (of whoever) , 7 - JK , stars , something about the four seasons ? , fave colour = red , ‘letta’ , cappuccino & frappuchino , friendly banter , 111 , 1212 , 2011 , sagittarius , aries , leo

i am sorry for yelling at you at the first point my pile 2 but some younger people in this pile - esp teenagers - like to put on a mean girl persona when that’s not them at all. what’s the point of that? you can’t please people with someone you are not. I sincerely wish that’s something you will remember my sweethearts. thank you for reading

paid readings

pile three : - megaphone !

𐙚 : three of wands, six of swords, knight of pentacles, justice, king of swords, the lovers

bottom of the deck: five of pentacles reversed

♡ ⢷ why you are so cool

1. You know when to walk away from a situation, which is unironically awesome. Like sure this could be considered a negative trait but you aren’t toxic with it. You just simply know your worth.

2. You have a person you are in love with for several years now right? At least, most people in this pile do. You have unwavering loyalty and love in your heart that no one can take away from you, no matter what. I think that’s very cool.

3. You treat children really well! Which should be a given, but many people are way more mean and cruel hearted than what children should deserve. After all, they are humans too and fragile ones at that. You are very responsible and a safe space for them. I wholeheartedly believe that’s cool.

4. When you call people out, you do so with evidence. I do like that a lot, you don’t just accuse people but rather keep collected and calm even if you are angry or despise the situation that you were put into.

5. Did you ever take a look at your side profile? You are quite ethereal, you have such an unique beauty to you. I do also believe that you look beautiful in your home country’s traditional clothing style:

6. You are stubborn, but not in a sense of annoying people or being selfishly caught up in your desires. This is a stubbornness that is found in people with leader like qualities, that people can rely on. You are stubborn in a sense of wanting to create a better future for yourself and those around you who you deem to deserve it. - bc let’s face it, some humans suck. -

7. I am sorry if this sounds weird, but your hand is always occupied with something. You are a very busy person, even if you might not believe so. You gotta do this, and you gotta do that. You have many interests, hobbies and responsibilities too. Yet you manage to juggle them so well, it’s hard to guess when you are stressed out.

8. Whenever you are around you light up people’s day and mood. You are such a sunshine child, people love to have you around. Even if you believe that’s not the case, people do appreciate you a lot more than you realise.

9. If you have a love for photography I hope that you know that you have a beautiful talent. You are amazing at taking pictures, making them pretty and seeing the beauty in every single little thing even if other people might not be able to do so.

10. You are really good with finances and saving up despite the anxiety it causes you. Give yourself a pat on the back because that is not something many people are able to truly say about themselves. Many people in this pile were raised in a way to appreciate money but not let it consume you, which I think you nailed pretty good!

— ✮⋆˙ somewhere over the rainbow - israel kamakawiwo’ole , early 00s & 10s hawaii , crying at night , daydreaming for hours , ‘thank goodness ‘ , my little pony , new hyper fixation , heat , ten to five , hair being washed by someone else , flamingos , pimples ? , papaya - sorry, ik gross to mention right after , pink skincare bottles , 555 , juliet , lucifer , 10th house

my dearest little lamb your energy was the calmest, sweetest and most welcoming out of all the piles. I am truly happy that you decided to read my pac / participate in it. it was truly a pleasant experience to channel for you 🫶🏻 thank you for reading

paid readings

[tetragonia]

It Almost Worked

JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

One summer night. Two knees touching each other. Three hours in conversation. Four logs burning bright on the bonfire. Five best friends having fun. Something almost worked.

warning: nothing, really. no use of (y/n), just pure fluff

note: this was in Season 1-ish, where the Pogues were just Kie and the boys. just a feel-good fic, knowing what we got in Season 4^_^

words: 1.2k

The night was warm, the stars were scattered across the Outer Banks sky like salt crystals tossed over midnight silk. You sat in a circle around the bonfire with John B, Kiara, Pope, and JJ, laughing and trading stories, all of you just on the edge of exhaustion from a long day out on the water. A gentle breeze swept through, carrying with it the salt and wildness of the ocean. It was mid-July and you wanted it to stay like that forever, just the five of you, having the most fun.

JJ sat next to you, his hair tousled and glowing faintly in the firelight, and his laughter mingled with yours as John B recounted a story. He leaned forward, face animated in the flickering light.

“So there we were, okay?” he began, grinning like he’d just cracked open a treasure chest. “Pope’s convinced that we’re being followed, right? He’s looking over his shoulder every two seconds, nearly tripping over his own feet!”

Pope rolled his eyes but stayed silent, clearly waiting for the punchline. Kiara smirked, already skeptical.

“So you guys are just… walking in circles?” she asked, eyebrow raised. John B laughed.

“Well, we thought we were being stealthy, but turns out, we circled around so many times, we ended up right back where we started!”

“Right back in front of Mrs. Callahan’s house,” Pope added, deadpan. “You know, the woman who called the cops on us last summer?”

Kiara shook her head, looking between John B and Pope with pure disbelief. “Wait, you mean to tell me you spent, what, an hour thinking you were outsmarting someone — just to wind up exactly where you started?”

“Hey, hey!” JJ jumped in, clapping to support John B. “They were clearly being hunted, Kie. Expert survival instincts, alright? It’s called evasion.”

You were clutching your stomach, laughing so hard your sides hurt as JJ kept trying to hype up the story with exaggerated nods and dramatic hand gestures.

“Oh, please,” you choked out, trying to catch your breath. “This is the same group that got lost on the mainland, and that was in broad daylight!”

John B threw up his hands in mock offense, “Okay, so maybe we didn’t exactly outsmart anyone. But come on! Admit it, we kept it interesting.”

Everyone erupted in laughter once again at the silly story. It was one of those moments where you felt like time had stopped; there was just the fire, the night, and the warmth of friends.

When everyone was busy laughing, you felt JJ shifted beside you, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out, his knee brushing against yours. The touch was so light, it could’ve been accidental, but he didn’t move it away. Neither did you.

Instead, you let the heat from his knee sink into yours, feeling a strange thrill at the proximity. It was something you’d been noticing more lately—the quiet moments where JJ was just close enough that you could feel him without touching him. And yet, tonight, there was something in the air. Maybe it was the firelight, or maybe it was the feeling of summer hanging heavy and endless, but you were painfully aware of him beside you.

“You guys remember that time we almost got stranded on Midsummers?” JJ’s voice was low, and he grinned, his eyes glancing toward you before drifting back to the group. “I thought for sure we’d end up spending the night in those marshes.”

“Thanks to your brilliant plan,” Pope said with a smirk, leaning forward. “What was it you said again? ‘Who needs a map when you have instinct?’”

Everyone laughed, JJ included, but you felt his knee press a little more firmly against yours, a slight nudge, like he was daring you to react. You met his eyes across the fire, and he raised his eyebrows, just barely, like he was challenging you. You knew that look—it was the one he used right before he did something reckless.

The fire crackled, and JJ leaned closer, his shoulder almost brushing yours now.

“Guess I can’t always get things right,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Almost doesn’t count,” you replied softly, giving him a playful nudge. But he just smiled, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than it should. Your heart skipped, and you forced yourself to look away, but it didn’t stop the flush from creeping up your neck.

“Hey, you two! What are you whispering about over there?” Kiara’s voice cut through the moment, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She’d noticed the space between you and JJ, or rather, the lack of it.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, glancing away and picking at the edge of a log. But JJ, never one to let a moment pass, smirked and tilted his head toward her.

“Just talking about how close you were to breaking that table at Midsummers last year,” he teased, deflecting with his usual charm.

“Oh, shut up, Maybank,” Kiara shot back, but her smile betrayed her amusement.

The conversation drifted back into laughter and teasing, yet JJ didn’t move. His knee was still pressed against yours, his arm brushing yours every so often as he laughed, his hand nearly grazing your own.

Finally, John B and Pope started talking about some ridiculous theory about the treasure, but you were barely listening. You felt hyper-aware of every breath JJ took, every subtle movement he made beside you. You turned your head, meaning to tell him something about the stars, or the fire, or anything to ease the tension building between you.

But then you caught the look in his eyes — something deeper, softer, something that made your heart beat a little faster.

“You know,” he said, his voice just a murmur, “this was a good night.”

You felt yourself smiling despite the heat, despite the way his gaze was making it hard to breathe. “Yeah, it was,” you replied, just as softly.

For a split second, it felt like everything else disappeared — the fire, the laughter of your friends, even the stars. There was just JJ, his blue eyes meeting yours, a small, hesitant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He leaned just slightly closer, his shoulder brushing yours.

The air between you crackled, charged with all the words neither of you had spoken, all the things you hadn’t allowed yourself to admit. He tilted his head, his lips a mere breath away from yours, close enough that you could feel his breath warm against your cheek. And for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. For a moment, you thought everything was about to change.

But then, he pulled back just slightly, the playful smirk returning to his face, though his eyes were softer, his voice almost a whisper.

“Almost,” he said, and you swore you heard a hint of regret in his tone.

Your heart dropped and soared all at once, caught in the tension of what could have been. You gave him a small, bittersweet smile, and replied, “Almost.”

He chuckled, looking away with that familiar ease, but you knew that he felt it too. The unspoken tension hung heavy between you, an acknowledgment of the connection you both felt but couldn’t quite act on.

As the firelight flickered, casting shadows across the beach, the two of you sat in silence, close but not quite close enough. And though neither of you said a word about it, you knew—tonight was the night that it almost worked.

[dunmeshi-would-you-eat]

Senshi's "Pearl Centipede Skewers"

[heartysworld]

The Deal // Lando Norris

A/N: I'm literary writing this as the England-Spain final is happening so I've got absolutely no idea whether I'm going to jinx it or guess the winner but I guess we're about to find out!

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST

W.C. 2k

The week between the Silverstone and the Hungarian Grand Prix was a much needed break in the intense Formula 1 schedule. Half the racing season was over, and you and Lando both needed a distraction from the relentless grind of the sport. It was the perfect opportunity to do something fun, to escape the pressure, and enjoy a few days just for yourselves.

“Alright baby, I have a proposition,” Lando said one evening as you both relaxed on the couch in your shared apartment, the remnants of a takeout dinner spread out before you. His fingers were gently running through your hair, and you could feel the tension of the season easing away.

“Oh? Do tell,” you replied, looking up at him with a smirk, already intrigued by whatever he was about to suggest.

“You know how you’ve been dying to go see a  Taylor Swift concert?” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye. You could already tell where thus was going.

“Obviously,” you replied, excitement bubbling up at the mere mention of it.

“Well, I’ve been thinking… What if we make a deal? We go to the Taylor Swift concert in Milan, but the next day, we head to Germany for the Euro Cup final. I'm sure we can figure something out regarding the concert tickets. Deal?” he proposed, his smile widening as he extended his hand towards to as a form of an agreement.

Your heart did a little flip. The idea of seeing Taylor Swift live had been a dream for you, and combining that with Lando’s passion for football seemed like the perfect plan for the remaining time before the next race in Hungary.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Norris,” you agreed, shaking his hand in a mock-serious manner.

The days leading up to the trip were filled with excitement and anticipation. You both packed your bags, making sure to include all the essentials – your Taylor Swift outfit and Lando’s favorite football jerseys. For a bit of fun, you had even gotten Lando a shirt that said, “So many Sainz, so little time,” a playful nod to his friendship with Carlos.

Finally, the day arrived. You and Lando boarded the flight to Milan, the city buzzing with the same energy that coursed through your veins. After checking into the hotel you'd be staying at, you quickly changed into your concert outfits. You wore a beautiful flowy dress that sparkled in pink and blue hues and twirled as you walked, while Lando sported his new shirt with pride.

As you arrived at the concert venue, the atmosphere was electric. Fans were everywhere, their excitement palpable. You grabbed Lando’s hand, your eyes sparkling with joy.

“This is it, Lando! I can’t believe we’re really here,” you exclaimed, squeezing his hand.

“I know, love. Let’s make the most of it,” he replied, pulling you closer as you navigated through the crowd to find your VIP seats.

The concert was everything you’d dreamed of and more. Taylor Swift’s voice filled the arena, her energy was infectious. You sang along to every song, your voice mingling with thousands of others. Despite not knowing all the lyrics, Lando joined in with your enthusiasm, dancing and cheering with you.

During “Love Story,” Lando placed his hands on your waist and twirled you around, his eyes never leaving yours. You laughed, your heart feeling light and free. The moment was perfect, a memory you’d treasure forever.

“Thank you for this, Lando. This means the world to me,” you said, your voice barely audible over the music.

“Anything for you, Y/N,” he replied, leaning in to kiss you softly.

Throughout the concert, fans recognized Lando and started handing him friendship bracelets. By the end of the night, both his hands were covered with colorful, handmade bracelets given to him by enthusiastic Swifties. The sight of Lando, a Formula 1 driver, adorned with friendship bracelets made you smile.

When “Shake It Off” started playing, you couldn’t contain your excitement. You jumped up and down, hugging Lando tightly, and he joined in, laughing and dancing along with you. Unbeknownst to you both, several people in the audience captured photos and videos of you two, sharing your unfiltered joy.

The next day, you were up early, the excitement of the previous night still lingering. After a quick breakfast, you and Lando hopped on a flight to Germany. Unfortunately, time wasn't on your side and you had no chance to explore the beautiful city of Milan with the love of your life. However, this led to Lando's idea for a vacation in Milan during his summer break.

The Euro Cup final was an event Lando had been looking forward to for months, and you were determined to make it just as special for him as the concert had been for you.

As you arrived at the stadium, the sheer scale of it took your breath away. Fans from all over the world were gathered, their team colors proudly displayed. You wore a jersey in support of Lando’s home country, earning an appreciative smile from him.

“Ready for this?” you asked, taking his hand as you made your way to your seats.

“Absolutely. This is going to be epic,” he replied, his excitement evident.

The match was intense, the atmosphere charged with energy. England was facing Spain, and the tension was palpable. You found yourself getting caught up in the excitement, cheering and shouting alongside Lando. When England scored the winning goal, the stadium erupted in celebration. Lando lifted you up in a jubilant hug, spinning you around.

“We did it!” he exclaimed, his eyes alight with joy.

“You did it,” you corrected, laughing as you hugged him tightly. “This was incredible, Lando. I’m so glad we came.”

“Me too, love. This has been the perfect weekend,” he replied, kissing you deeply.

Later, as you made your way back to the hotel, fans also captured moments of Lando jumping and cheering, celebrating England's victory. Videos of his infectious excitement quickly spread online, fans delighted by the sight of him in his element.

Back in your room, you cuddled up on the bed, exhausted but happy. Lando pulled you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“I love you too, Lando. Thank you for everything,” you replied, snuggling closer.

As you drifted off to sleep, you knew that this weekend would be one you’d both remember for the rest of your lives – a testament to your love, your shared passions, and the joy of making deals that brought you closer together.

The next morning, you woke up to a flurry of notifications on your phone. Curious, you opened social media to find that videos and photos of you and Lando from both the concert and the football match had gone viral. Fans couldn’t stop talking about how cute you both looked together, enjoying something you each loved.

There were clips of you dancing and twirling to “Love Story,” Lando’s hands on your waist, and another of you jumping up and down, hugging him tightly during “Shake It Off.” Then, there were the heartwarming videos of Lando cheering and jumping when England won, his pure joy infectious.

“Looks like we’re famous,” you said, showing Lando your phone. He chuckled, pulling you into another hug.

“I guess the world likes seeing us happy,” he said, kissing your forehead.

And as you lay there, wrapped up in each other, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for these perfect moments you had shared, knowing that you had created memories that would last a lifetime.

MASTERLIST

[hyuneflix]

from love-coded.exe

season one: finding sunshine boy a hacker group, comprised of five members, has their world changed when a glitch leads to y/n joining their private chat. gn!reader.

intro episodes available here or here << back to dash // next season >>

DAY ONE EP 0.1 - taking notes EP 0.2 - eat the rich EP 0.3 - freaky freak EP 0.4 - y/n investigates EP 0.5 - brain rot

DAY TWO EP 0.6 - simping for jesus EP 0.7 - promising leads EP 0.8 - in minecraft EP 0.9 - the plot thickens

DAY FIVE EP 1.0 - zaddy mode EP 1.1 - working hard EP 1.2 - hardly working EP 1.3 - sunshine lore

DAY SEVEN EP 1.4 - svt memes EP 1.5 - fully unhinged EP 1.6 - in minecraft 2.0 EP 1.7 - ✗ marks the spot EP 1.8 - the treasure

DAY EIGHT EP 1.9 - partners in grime EP 2.0 - [redacted] EP 2.1 - name dropping EP 2.2 - svt memes 2.0 EP 2.3 - socks to be you

DAY NINE EP 2.4 - eye eye cappin' EP 2.5 - rip $10 sunnies EP 2.6 - recovery mode EP 2.7 - takin' it wayback EP 2.8 - revenge mode DAY THIRTEEN EP 2.9 - breast stroke EP 3.0 - just tired EP 3.1 - as in D O N E EP 3.2 - S.O.S signal EP 3.3 - mystery doc

DAY FOURTEEN EP 3.4 - in minecraft 3.0 EP 3.5 - EP 3.6 - EP 3.7 -

free preview of first ep

for members: early releases are live

FINAL EPISODE EP 3.8 - finding sunshine boy (written)

-> 1/5 profiles unlocked -> 1/? side characters unlocked

INFO -> as this is a wip you can reach out to be put on the taglist. i've made two methods for you to do this: comment with your user on the google doc or send an ask.

-> current upload schedule: every other day upon completion of a "day" (group of ep's). small breaks may be undertaken between ep groups due to the day not being wholly completed.

[shinigamigloss]

lazuli

✎ two years since the night Leon left you, and today is Leon’s 23rd birthday (yes yes yes!! part two of bye bye baby blue <3)

cw: emotional hurt / comfort, angst, grief, second chances, hallucinations, post-traumatic stress, unreliable narrator, and one more chapter to go! (written with leon in mind in the opening scene of re4r) word count: 2.5k and tagging some lovely people here: @preeyas-world + @carmendanny2 + @senawashere

⌕ part 1 ┃looking for a playlist while reading?

You have been, for a while, in the habit of mingling with the gloom and the rain – either your ally or your persistent nemesis.

Ever since the night of September 30th, you’ve been suspended in an ambivalent state. Insomnia and carmine question marks prowled in the depths of your mind.

The trouble is that your memory, like your very dreams, has grown weary of storing the minute remnants of Leon.

So long has it been since you’d last seen or heard from him that sometimes, even when all alone – or in the midst of friends and interim ‘lovers’ – you’d find yourself searching for him in the measly details of your apartment.

And the flat was a big, bare space.

The bedroom had become a strange void. The lonely, withered corner of the mattress felt too wide on its own. You were very small in that perfect bed, and yet so enormous – like some foolish victim of Procrustes, who should have been cut and reshaped to fit, just to feel whole again.

There were also certain days when you’d find yourself evading people's and coworkers’ probing questions as though skirting bullets.

Queries about the boy you were once engaged to, back in your hometown, would venture into your private matters like razor-edged knives through gauze. Mercifully, the silence that followed a lethargic ‘we broke up’ – spoken to eyes dilating with anticipation – came as ephemeral as the flight of a butterfly.

Friends, relatives, and colleagues soon learned how to retreat into the safety of their own routines, folding away their curiosity like a letter that needn’t be read in the first place.

Many more years rolled by, yet not once did he answer the letters of penitence you sent.

---

Time only ever flies, and all you ever do is wander through the decay of memory.

There begins the first stage of separation, ringing your doorbell.

Recognizing his absence, you suffer the lesions and tears of a once-treasured love, now gathering only grayish dust. All you’ve got left is a proper heartache, followed by sundry seasons of naked solitude.

Nightmares precede a mosaic of nights and intricate dreams that can no longer be manually captured. Phase two comes out of the blue.

You sell the apartment on some peripheral morning, donate what little remains of Leon’s belongings to a local orphanage, pawn the ring that once mattered, cut your hair shorter than ever before, and leave the shelter with a cat.

So, it happens. Leon is no more.

Blessed by the passage of seasons, you grow inured to this new state of reality. A Leon-less life, if you will.

April arrives, bearing its recognizable heat.

It’s a crisp morning with the aroma of damp earth and tentative blossoms. The cemetery is deserted, save for the distant whistling of the brisk wind through the rows and lines of stonework. You still stall around.

There are very many names written on the tombstones.

A bouquet of lazuli-pigmented forget-me-nots in your hand, the petals evanish glum beneath your grip. Always the same flowers. He would’ve liked them, you suppose. A pretty blue had always been his hue.

You once read it with a lump lodged in your chest: the contents of a frosty letter sent by the department. At the bottom, a single signature. No words of clarification. No remission.

Nothing but a grave and a date: September 30th, 1998. The date of the ice-cold night he stormed out of the house you two nursed.

Your fingers splay out to touch the name carved in stone.

Leon S. Kennedy.

Crouching next to the epitaph, you sow your flowers beside him, ritualistically so.

“Happy birthday,” you whisper aloud, although you’re not sure if your hushing has even left your throat. It’s all a misguided venture as it is.

Two whole years. So easy to count. So hard to go through.

And yet, for some odd reason, you never believed that he was truly gone. Not ever, not so much for the sensitive elements of a moment in space.

It may be your mechanism that’s playing a backstage trick on you. Perhaps science has another name for it: a molecular aversion to recognition, a chemical romance with escapism.

Does it matter, and to whom?

Such is the viscosity of your staircase of thought that you barely register the voice beside you, even the second time it demands attention.

“Dying. It’s so strange,” the voice intones, neutral and dry.

What an absurd observation. Who even says that?

No, wait.

Who dares to say that?

Why should anyone seek a stranger’s take on the great hard knocks?

Much as this puts you in a tailspin, you decide not to look up and face the man talking to you. There are weeds growing underneath Leon’s tombstone, and you pluck them out in lieu of bothering yourself.

“Strange or not, it’s the most real thing there is,” you mouth all the while.

“No kidding,” the man carries a glimmer of amusement in his phrasing.

Quietness creeps in between you. The April chill mingles with drifting dust motes from spring blossoms. The stranger, patient and hollow-eyed, waits for you to finish tending the grave.

“Who is this Leon guy again?” he asks.

Why prod, and to what end?

It’s his words, his calm, his stillness – all coalesce into one terminal voltage, a shock so searing that it rends your very composure.

You turn, face twisted into the sourish form it identifies itself with.

He looks back at you. An unfazed kind of smile touches his lips.

It could be right then – that moment when your world collapses in on itself. Your knees give a gross shake. The reflection of the man in your eyes dilates your pupils enormously.

“Hi, love,” he greets heartily, and you blink at the dead.

No dream has ever felt as visceral on the skin as it does now. No dream until today: the middle of April, the twentieth of the month. Leon’s 23rd birthday.

Tearful, as if bullying your brain, which signals your twitching lower lip to halt. A blue color rudely paints the flesh as you worry it.

Love? What love? How come love?

Leon holds out his hand, but you don’t so much as flinch.

He stands there, breathless and tall, as if Hades had granted a day-pass for the dead men.

You’re still falling through the dented tunnel of disbelief, allowing reality to make its grand entrance into the spectacle.

“You’re dead,” you lock your jaw.

His helping hand comes to naught. On your own, you get back on your feet.

“I’ve got no time for this anyway.” You wear an overly stern expression and gesticulate awkwardly to be entirely convincing. Cast out the unwanted from your vision.

Leon sighs in the wake of this. His brows crease with something sedated, whilst the downward curve of his mouth speaks of a telltale concern.

He looks devastating.

His clothes (all dark and ink blue, tailored well to his physique) are disheveled and distinctly perfumed with the pleasant tang of his cologne in the breezy, pollen-laden air around him.

“Maybe I was dead,” there’s a bounce in his voice.

Does he ever hear the things he speaks? How completely impertinent can he be?

“Don’t give me that shit,” you blurt out the first thing that lights up in your thoughts.

“What shit, exactly?” Leon exhorts you to give voice.

“This. Shit. This and that.”

Your gaze wanders to him. The patches of the past on his skin remind you of young bruises: yellow, pallid, and rimmed with green.

He’s as in your sleepless visions: cynical and, above all, blinkered. Maybe if you looked at him from a good angle, you could feasibly see the riverscapes of the things he had been up to. Pity you can’t do such a trick in a million dreams.

“Hmm,” is the most Leon says.

Hot reds pump through your veins. You tell yourself that if you only close your eyes, all should be well. 

So, you close your eyes, reopen them, hoping to be taken all the way back to the earthly population of your dull, mean world. 

“That won’t be at all necessary, sweetheart.” Endearment escapes him through a habitual slip of the tongue. 

Fuck. 

“No, it’s absolutely necessary,” you counter sharply. 

“It’s not.” 

“Why won’t you shut the hell up?” 

In that little snippet of the reunion scenario, the cooling affection of his hand falls from your shoulder and lingers in the palm of your hand. 

“Can’t,” Leon says calmly. “I found you once. I’m not just going to leave you. Not like this.” 

Your lover assumes the shape of your sightline the minute you blink into existence. A larger Leon, with a face marred by the lines of tiredness. Longer hair that has faded to a shade of silken gold. Mocha once fondled his crown, but no longer. 

What your eyes behold is not the sum of what your heart already knows. 

“Bullshit,” your teeth kiss the bottom of your lip; Leon curls his fingers about yours, as if you might slip away from his hold. 

“You can’t be real,” you breathe in deeply, “this has happened before. Happens all the time. You just walk in, piss me off, and walk out.” 

“I’m here anyway,” he returns in a controlled intonation, lest he wake the world around you. 

“I had to come back for you.” 

He brings your hand to the right side of his face. No other layer of skin has felt so genuine since flesh forgot tenderness and, instead, digested the mechanics of sex. 

Cautiously, you take a small step. The gravel underfoot crunches listlessly away. 

“This is a hallucination. That’s all it is. Side effect.” You shake off a chill first. 

“The doctor told me.” You go quiet then. 

Rubbing his chin with a gloved hand, Leon adopts the barest of attitudes. 

“If I were your imagination, I would have a better way in. And what doctor are you—” 

“Stop talking! It is not funny.” 

The admonition strikes a jarring chord. A privilege, even after all these years, to have known him well enough to catch that flicker of mortification sparking briefly across his face. 

This sting – not so readily trivialized. It hurts still. 

He needs to see what an impossibly starless path you’ve meandered since his omission. 

“They said you were dead. You were buried.” You broach the matter; he’s already marrow-deep in your gaze. 

The buried aren’t meant to return, and it’s to the banshee’s dismay that the living should witness what has already died. It’s the rule, is it not? 

Leon’s stare glaciates to shades of electric blues. 

“You think I wanted this?” His question fractures like the snap of a twig at his feet. 

Impulsively, he closes in on you, one more step into your orbit. That’s his vivid tint shimmering in your irises. 

“I was protecting you,” he talks trash under his breath. 

(Classic.)

“By dying?” 

“No,” he rasps, “by staying dead.” 

“Oh, my God! Of course you did. Played the hero as always. Well, Clark Kent, where might your glasses be?” Sarcasm gushes from your tongue, and with good reason. 

How utterly vulgar you can be when you want to be. 

Leon pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Is it really that damn hard to put your trust in me?” he gnashes his teeth. 

“Funny, I remember how you gladly dumped me that night.” 

“That’s the part you know!” 

“And that’s more than enough to hate you!” 

Leon teeters and flutters an eyelid, gobsmacked in the most graphic condition possible. 

The air chokes the soul. Pinpricks of raindrops splatter in the heart of a moment of whirlwind daze. Dappled on his shoulders and dripping on his face, a drizzle catches on his lashes like the dew on cast iron. 

Hell, Leon’s everything aches: his cadence, his posture. His hand twitches in an attempt to gloss something indecipherable and unspeakable. You no longer listen to him. 

Against all sense, you come one step to the fore. You desperately need to be sure he’s the genuine article. 

Halfway through his sentence – “If I had stayed, they would’ve—” your mouth collides with his. Teeth knock. 

There’s no precision to it. No poetry written into the pell-mell kisses. No. It’s rather an open wound under the gelid water. 

His lips are mist-tinged and piteous, but just a touch belated. Yet as your hands reach for his collar and fist the sodden fabric, something inside him gives way. His breath betrays him. Mouth softens, and the kiss burrows deeper with a distant clap of thunder in the sky. 

His fingers clamber up to frame your mizzle-kissed face. Flesh and heat and bone. Salt too. 

He feels it all in the precious jostle of a millisecond into the present. 

At last, the skin honors the color of his touch. 

“I fucked up real bad. Shit, sweetheart. I lost you.” He leans close to you then, severing the kiss. 

His eyes twinkle like they’ve been washed in the storm and then reddened in the incandescent flames. 

You trace a cool hand along the faint arch of his jawline, newly chiseled since the last time your lips connected with his. 

To draw him closer to you is to abrogate every wound that is still healing. 

To pull away would be to abandon the part of you that has never stopped waiting. 

Oh, but this is no fantasy; gone is the brutal game born from the illicit marriage of chimera and sorrow. 

He’s real. 

What a way to get a hit in. What a kiss. 

Like the first breath after drowning, it’s a lovely but cold blue sinkhole. Takes much to last. 

“Oh, God,” you breathe through lips bitten raw. “The letters… they… god. No way.” 

A shallow draft of wind punches through your lungs. You come to a stop. 

“They said… ‘Leon was like this and like that. Very brave, and—” 

Beautiful cursive on blank paper – robotic condolences from men and women in polished shoes – flare up behind your eyes like credits ticking down within the frame of a movie’s swan song. 

Something feels out of sync. 

“Sweetheart, I can’t really understand you when you’re like this.” Leon holds you by the arms with a kind of makeshift smile in some strange sort of shape. 

(Or it’s your fallibility playing mind games again and against you.) 

“Do you also feel the ground moving, or is it just—” 

Your knees give out as if you’re an archaic scaffold. A marionette whose cords have been snapped. 

Leon catches you in the nick of time – but only just. 

Your sepia-tinted filter, already bleeding at the margins, begins to blur his features. 

Leon’s flustered shock hangs above until his visage is brush-stroked in a moonless black. 

[buddierecs]

fake dating buddie fics

all mature rating!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

keeping score by: arcanaphora "after getting dumped, buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. all's fair in love, war, and trivia" word count: 23k important tags: cruise ships, fake marriage, mutual pining, gay disaster!eddie diaz, first kiss, making out 'cause we belong together now by: smilingbuckley "on a call, buck and eddie meet an adorable little girl that they fall in love with and want to adopt. the only problem? they're not together romantically..." word count: 68k important tags: kid fic, marriage of convenience, slow burn, friends to lovers, getting together, soft!buddie, miscommunication burn the straw house down by: rarakiplin "buck gets stuck in time, has a break down and then, relatedly, a break through" word count: 40k important tags: time loop, angst, car accidents, happy ending all i can see (is you) by: trippedandfell "buck and eddie agree to fake date to win a reality tv show. it goes... well, pretty much exactly how you'd expect." word count: 21k important tags: reality show au, mutual pining, idiots in love, only one bed, gay disaster!eddie diaz for a holiday (and forevermore) by: wikiangela "eddie's sick of personal, intrusive questions about his love life whenever he visits his family, so he starts bringing buck for the holidays as his (fake) boyfriend. he only wants to shut them up, and doesn't expect that the small crush he has on his best friend could actually turn into something more..." word count: 94k important tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, sharing a bed, pre-relationship, soft!buddie, family feels, fluff, pining little lies by: david3096 "chris tells a lie at school and now eddie and buck must give a talk about love and work pretending to be fiances." word count: 62k important tags: idiots in love, mutual pining, christopher diaz is a national treasure, fluff you and tequila make me crazy by: cranberrymoons "in which buck and eddie lose chimney because they're drunk and horny" word count: 1.5k important tags: drunken flirting, season 7, sexual tension, pre-relationship fireflies where my caution should be by: littlesnowpea ".....“there are people on the porch,” eddie says, voice even. “saying they want to meet their grandchild.”" word count: 13k important tags: TW: past child abuse, fake marriage, hurt!evan buckley, emotional hurt/comfort, self-esteem issues, protective!eddie diaz what if i fall in love backwards by: redridingstiles "five times buck and eddie saved each other by pretending to be together and the one time christopher helps" word count: 9.8k important tags: 5+1 things, best friends, protective!buddie, teasing, homophobia, marriage proposal i'd never let you fall and break your heart by: autistic_nightfury "four times buck and eddie pretended to be in a relationship so people wouldn't bother them, and the one time they actually were together" word count: 5.8k important tags: 4+1 things, friends to lovers, holding hands, forehead kissies, getting together, mild smut

[fine-nephrit]

🥏 Where to find good XF fanfics

👽 On Tumblr

@lilydalexf has an encyclopedic knowledge of fics and continues to be an invaluable resource. You'll find a boatload of themed fic lists, individual rec posts and helpful answers to anon asks.

@txf-fic-chicks-blog seven years of almost daily recs, with well-written blurbs and a lot of fun, run by @kateyes224 and @piecesofscully. Look out for their themed days: "Casefile Monday", "Tumblr Tuesday", "Editor's Pick Wednesday", "Post-Ep/Missing Scene Thursday", "Novel Length Friday", "Smut Sunday", and the very cool "Because You Watched"

@msrlibrary a well-tagged library of MSR fics; each entry includes a short excerpt and a nicely chosen image from the show.

@201daysofxfiles a rewatch blog by fandom veteran @wendelah. Each episode in season 1-7 is paired with its own fic rec post.

@enigmaticxbee an aesthetically pleasing and neatly organized rewatch blog that is packed with great content, including excellent fic rec lists categorized by season, story type, trope, and more. Each episode guide sometimes features related fic recs.

@thatfragilecapricorn30 posts one fic rec every Friday, accompanied by a nice writeup.

@randomfoggytiger curates many fic rec lists sorted by often fun and creative categories.

@cecilysass has a google doc titled "fics I love", which is a fantastic fic list categorized by story type, complete with thoughtful blurbs. She's also shared two episode-related fic rec lists on Tumblr: here and here.

@pookie-mulder writes a monthly fic journal with good recs.

**self-promo plug** I post fic recs on my Tumblr blog @fine-nephrit under #nephrit's fic rec. Plus, I reblog others' fic recs that I come across!

👽 Rec Communities

XF Book Club: the best thing ever, an absolute gem that deserves to be preserved for posterity. During its run, 270 fics were recced and discussed in depth here. The community's intelligent and insightful comments on this blog are sometimes even more enjoyable to read than the fics themselves.

The Fic Filter (xf tag): well-curated selections with short blurbs.

Multifandom Het Recs (xf tag): a major rec site's xf section that offers nice "why this must be read" writeups. @het-reccers

Crack Van (xf tag): another major rec site with a big xf section, featuring endless recs and blurbs

Fancake (xf tag): another major rec community's xf section boasting an extensive thematic tagging system

👽 Personal Blogs

Emily Shore aka Naraht: meta essays, fanvid recs, fic recs—great stuff aplenty

Bad for the Fish aka Scarlet Baldy: fantastic fic list paired with highly enjoyable reviews and analyses of the fics she's read. @badforthefish

Ramblings of a Mind Untamed: reviews of a dozen or so classic fics

xxSKSxx XF Fanfic Recs: still active in 2024! @xxsksxxx

X-Libris: more of a fic library, this is the best place to download nicely-formatted ebooks of pre-AO3 oldies. What I love most is the incredibly detailed and extensive tagging system.

👽 Individual Rec Lists with good writeup

Character Manifesto - Dana Scully: a character analysis and 10 Scully-centric fic recs, categorized by "best of .." selections. Amazing format and choices!

Character Manifesto - Fox Mulder: same format as above for Spooky

bachlava's awesome fic rec essays, covering classic fics and slash fics

ShipRecced blog's classic MSR fics and newer MSR fics recs

luminary's 16-fic rec post

RivkaT recs fics and writers @rivkat

Anna Otto's favorite stories

Syntax6's rec list on her site, great rec list on Tumblr and FTF rec list @syntax6

👽 90s Old School Rec Sites

The Basement Office - Musea: a treasure trove of extensive fic lists with lovely written blurbs, recced by a group of talented writers from back in the day

The Other Side - Fanfic Recs from Beyond the Grave: a large collection of 'scary' or 'spooky' story recs with nice blurbs. Beautiful web design.

the Rookery - Favorite Authors: nice commentary on a list of classic fic writers

X-Files Fanfiction 101: an intro guide to fic categories and what to read for each

The Primal Screamers: a fun site run by a mailing list that hosts fic recs with blurbs, and a 'Coffee Talk' section full of delightful discussions of canon

Idealists Haven - Elemental Fanfic Archive: an archive with rec blurbs

Chronicle X: a large, well-organized archive with blurbs, plus a 'Can We Talk' discussion section of novel-length fics, plus a total of 46 author interviews. Simply incredible!

👽 Special Mention

The X-Files Lost and Found: a fic finder message board that is miraculously still very active today—How wonderful! Its FAQ page hosts a huge collection of well-categorized themed fic lists (not recs), including "Classics (or, Your Fanfic Education is Not Complete Until You've Read ...)".

Where do you find your next read? What did I miss? Reblog and share your favorites!