#Multifandom recs

[mischievousmoony]

THIS WAS SO CUTE SKY IM CRYING

Pietro Maximoff x mutant!fem!reader

Summary: A little misunderstanding almost drives away the one person you feel the safest with.

Genre: hurt and comfort

Warnings: misunderstanding trope, reader is traumatized, reader doesn't have control of her powers, illusions to Hydra's torture, friends to lovers, platonic Bucky Barnes x reader, Pietro is lovesick <3

~ @thewinterv this was based on your Pietro ask from a while back! I really hope you like this 🫶 ! ~

PIETRO MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST

The very first time Pietro saw you, you looked like a fallen angel. 

The day you had arrived, you'd been as quiet as a mouse. You didn't speak to anyone—Pietro wasn't even sure you spoke english. All you did the first week was keep your head down, your gaze away, and your mouth shut.

The large metal cuffs caged around your dainty wrists looked heavy. When Pietro asked Clint why you wore them and he learned it was to dampen a power you couldn't control, a power you hadn't asked for, his heart ached for you. 

In the beginning, you stayed in a room alone and away from everyone. You looked so gloomy, but even behind those saddened eyes, Pietro thought you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. 

Pietro couldn't stay away. It was simply impossible. Afterall, he was never good at minding his own business—ask his sister. 

"Nechte ji na pokoji (Leave her alone)," Wanda kept warning her brother when she would see how he looked at you, but Pietro never listened. 

It started slowly, with little visits to your room. You'd hide, simply staring at him like he would hurt you. It took him a while, many bars of chocolate, and a little show of his own powers, but finally, you opened up to him.

You seemed to like how he could make himself vibrate or how fast he was and Pietro remembers how warm your hand had been when you touched him after he'd vibrated his hand. You sat criss-crossed in front of him, a concentrated and curious look on your face as you watched him. Up close he could see the scars on your skin. His stomach twisted. It reminded him so much of his younger self. Of those years of torture.   

He could only imagine what you'd gone through.

As weeks turned into months, you opened up some more.  

One night, Pietro heard screaming from your room. The entire team had woken up, but Pietro was faster. He sped in, locked the door behind him, and stood in the room as he watched you crawl on the floor, hands cut from your glass of water that had fallen from your bedside table. You were looking for something as you wailed, hands shaking. Pietro knelt beside you, grabbing your wrist, but he recoiled as a jolt of warmth shocked him and caused his arm to throb in pain.

You had burned him. 

You gasped, eyes teary, and he finally understood that we were looking for the metal cuffs. He'd convinced you a week ago that you could control your powers now, that he would help you, but whatever made you scream had sent your powers into a frenzy. It was only a matter of time until you burnt something—most likely yourself.   

Pietro quickly sped to the closet where you keep your cuffs. Gently, he helped them onto your wrists and held your hands as they stopped shaking. The intense warmth vanished. 

"Shh, malá myš (little mouse), you're safe." 

That night, you'd let him hold you for the first time and you hadn't let go since. 

Pietro was worried he might have gone too far. That you're too attached. And yet, imagining himself pulling away hurts more than he'd like to admit. 

You have started to feel more comfortable around the team, which Pietro usually likes, except when it's to see you sitting on the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of hot cocoa, as you chat happily with Bucky. 

Pietro's jaw tightens and he halts near the door, hiding from view. He doesn't know why he hides instead of just joining in on the conversation, but for some reason the sight of you and Bucky standing so close makes him feel sick and he doesn't dare come in. 

"I heard you're close with Pietro, kid," Bucky's voice is light, the smirk obvious in his tone. Your legs dangle from the counter, absentmindedly kicking forwards. Pietro presses his head against the wall. He can't see your expression but he thinks he hears the hint of a smile when you answer. 

"Yeah. We are," you say, sipping your drink. 

"Hm, do you like him?" Bucky asks and Pietro's heart skips. He should walk away. It isn't right to eavesdrop. Wanda would remind him of that if she was here. Still, he doesn't move. 

"Mhmh, he's nice. He's always around me though," you add, a different tone in your voice and insecurities bubble in Pietro's stomach. He knew he was taking things too far. His hands clench. Why hadn't you said anything? Hurt blossoms in his chest and he speeds off, not listening to you finish your answer—

"It's different."

"Different how?" Bucky insists, much too invested. He knows how Pietro feels, everyone does, but you're much harder to understand. The entire team has been dying to know and it was Bucky's turn to ask. After all, you trusted him the most after Pietro. Your circumstances were quite similar. 

You tilt your head, thinking for a moment, and then you beam. "He's different. He makes me feel safe, like I want to be around him all the time."

Bucky chuckles and crosses his arms. "Sounds like you like him," he teases lightly. 

You sip on your drink, considering it. 

"Sounds like you may even love him," he continues, gouging your expression. 

You don't react like Bucky thought you would. You don't deny or ignore your feelings, instead you keep considering his words and when your eyes lock with his, your smile has grown even wider. 

You nod, innocent and cheerful. "Yeah. I think I do."

* * * 

You haven't seen Pietro in three days. He's never in his room when you knock and he's never around the common areas either. Wanda doesn't know anything, or she doesn't want to tell you, and neither does the rest of the team. Your mood has become gloomy. You miss him. 

It's midnight and you're tossing and turning in your bed, unable to cool your body. A horrible side-effect from your powers. Sometimes your body feels like it's on fire. You whimper, sweat beading at your hairline. Pietro's name falls from your lips, desperate. 

Shakily, you stand up. Your vision is blurred, the heat from your palms is intense, and you don't dare touch anything as you stumble down the hall. Your mind is too hazy to think clearly, to find your cuffs and take a cool shower like Pietro always advises. Instead, the only thing on your mind is him. 

You reach his door and call his name. Your throat feels dry and you fall to your knees. You're breathing heavily, your skin burning up.

You're barely aware of someone scooping you in his arms until the icy water from Pietro's personal shower falls down on your skin, soaking your pajamas and causing steam to lift from your skin. Hands cup your cheeks and icy blue eyes fall into your line of vision. 

"What were you thinking?" Pietro's voice is strained. "What have I told you?" 

You blink, taking in his appearance. He's shirtless, goosebumps across his skin as the cold water falls on both of you. He's holding you so close, silver hair sticking to his forehead as his chest rises and falls rapidly. His thumb rubs the skin on your cheekbone. "You have a shower in your bathroom. When this happens, I told you you need to cool yourself down," Pietro's hands fall to your wrists and he frowns. "Where are your cuffs? Y/n, you can't keep misplacing them—"

Your fingers curl around Pietro's wrists instead, the water still falling over you and taming the heat inside you. You pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you cling to him. "Where have you been?" you whimper into his neck, your breathing slowly returning to normal. 

Pietro tenses. "What?"

"I missed you," you admit. Your body temperature is finally lowering. 

Pietro's heart flutters and he reaches for the shower knob, turning off the water. You're both still kneeling on the cool tiles and Pietro pulls you in closer to his chest, his hand resting on the back of your head as he caresses your hair. He feels guilty. He had been ignoring you. 

"I didn't want to overwhelm you," he whispers, still stroking your hair. He helps you up, grabbing towels and wrapping you up. In a blur, he's sat you down on his bed, went to your room, and found your cuffs. Gently, he wraps them around your wrists and smiles up at you. "There will come a time you won't need these, but for now, it's okay that you do. They don't make you weak, okay?"

You nod, looking up at him with wide eyes. You're still stuck on his previous words. "Why would you overwhelm me?"

Pietro joins you on the bed, sitting criss-crossed in front of you. He rubs his neck awkwardly. "I don't wanna be clingy—"

"Why not? I like it," you say quickly.

"Well because I don't want to—wait what?"

You smile softly, fumbling nervously with the cuffs. "I like it. When you're clingy. I like being around you."

Pietro's cheeks turn pink. "You do?"

You nod, reaching for his hands now. "I think I may love you," you admit.

Pietro almost chokes and his face is now crimson. He doesn't even know what to say. He feels like he's in a dream. "You do?" 

You nod and play with his fingers. You're beaming. "Yeah. You're my best friend and more. I love you." You lean in, close to his lips. You're looking at him with such adoration he doesn't know what to think. 

"I love you as well," he whispers and cups your cheek, your wet hair dropping water onto his hand. He smiles. "Can I show you how much?"

Your eyebrows furrow a moment but then you recall some conversation you'd had with Nat and Wanda, about men and love. You'd spent almost your entire life captured by Hydra so this was all so unknown to you, but something feels right. You think back to their conversation and nod, allowing your eyes to flutter shut so that Pietro can kiss you.

It's soft and sweet and when he pulls away, there is so much love behind his eyes. "You're an angel," he mutters and kisses your forehead. "I won't leave your side again. I promise. You're stuck with me, Princezna (Princess)."

Your lips feel funny from the kiss but you can't help but grin at his words. Hesitantly, you lean and kiss him again, your hands cupping his cheek now, and Pietro kisses you back, pulling you into his lap, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your hips. 

Despite the cuffs, your body temperature seems to spike again—but this time not for the same reasons. Your hands feel cooler than they've ever felt, but that heat in your gut spreads across your body with every kiss Pietro bestows upon your skin. 

For once, you don't want the heat to disappear.  

[educatedinyellow]

Fic recs, please! 6, 11, and 12?

Thanks for the ask, @sanguinarysanguinity! This got long, so I'll put the recs under a cut.

6. Recommend a fic that does something cool with format or structure (epistolary, social media, 5 things, non-linear, etc.):

I will start off with two fics from the vintage year of 2005 (happy 20th anniversary!):

Stimmed by anr (Battlestar Galactica): A oneshot set in the very early days of the show when the fleet is still desperately on the run from the Cylons and all the pilots are so sleep-deprived they can barely function. I like how the fic's short, disjointed sections evoke Kara's punchiness (in more senses than one), and its non-linear structure pays off beautifully in the closing lines. Plus it captures the combination of profound mutual irritation and vulnerable closeness that, for me, defines the Kara/Lee dynamic. An odd, sweet little story.

Sub Rosa by prof_pangaea (ACD Holmes): A telegram exchange between Sherlock and Mycroft over the Reichenbach hiatus, made special by the way the author designed each telegram like a piece of art. The story is told wholly through these images of telegrams from around the world, and the voice of both characters (but particularly Mycroft) is pitch perfect. You know me, I am a big Mycroft fan, and this story was probably the very first fic I ever came across in which the voice he had matched the voice I would have imagined for him -- gentle, caring, confused, exasperated, wry, and concerned. There's a joke about time travel in the author's note: she accidentally used a telegram form from the Soviet era rather than the 19th century, a fact immediately apparent to Russian speakers although it was not apparent to her until readers told her -- so now a little accidental time travel is folded into the middle of the story, which we all agree only adds to its charms :)

Subliminal by Speranza (BBC Sherlock): Thee Footnote Fic! A fun experiment into how one can use formatting to creatively showcase the speed of Sherlock's observations and the way he has multiple focal points of awareness at all times, and how one of those focal points is always, always John.

The Scientist by wand3rlust (fanvid, Battlestar Galactica): This is a Kara/Lee vid set to a song about going "back to the start." Not only is it structured in reverse chronological order, but it's the only vid I've ever seen that literally plays its footage backwards, each clip running in reverse like a rewinding tape. One wouldn't think that something that looks so unnatural could work to convey romance, regret, or joy, but in my opinion it works extraordinarily well. The vidder privated their channel, so this vid is no longer viewable on the internet. I had downloaded a copy prior to its disappearance (the link above goes to the mp4 in my google drive). I don't have any video player apps connected to my drive, so I can't test if it still works. But perhaps it will work for you on whatever video player you have on your computer. If you're interested to see it, I wish you luck! It has a special place in my heart.

Cinderwings by bendingsignpost (Supernatural): This fic is a delight in many ways, but as for the structure, it doesn't seem so unusual at first: it just switches POV between the two main characters, with Dean's POV always taking over with each new day and Cas's POV starting up every night. But there is a climactic moment in the fic where you find out what this structure has been designed to do: in the midst of a desperate battle, the clock strikes midnight, and suddenly the POV shifts from Cas to Dean as the next day has begun. It's a powerful twist of the narrative knife that plays into the tension of the scene as we lose touch with Cas just at the moment when he's in maximum peril. Well played!

11. Recommend a fic you think is a hidden gem/deserves more reads:

Oh, there are so many. Scanning through my bookmarks, here are some that I'm catching:

Watershed by finangler (Sherlock Holmes, original sci-fi AU): In the year 2207, John Watson went to war. I love the character voices and world-building in this! And it's rare to see a Holmes story that's not based on any extant adaptation. I've always really liked the creativity and sharpness of this fic.

Life by Elisabeth Writes/Elisabeth_H (Little Women, Beth-centric). Beth isn’t going to die, but what does that mean? An insightful fic about the quiet crush of self-denigration, and how hard it can be to grow into yourself when your anxiety is taken for piety and therefore encouraged by those who love you best. A striking look at a Beth who outlives her own expectations and learns the courage to walk toward a future rather than a farewell.

Calliope by Rheanna (Battlestar Galactica): "We're all family now." A look at the civilians in the fleet in the first days of flight as everyone tries to escape the Cylons. The show itself never took much time to reflect on the ordinary people whom the military and politicians were serving. This fic places them front and center.

Hero Worship by WWitch1997 (Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Hercules/Iolaus): Hercules and Iolaus are forced to consider their future when one of them falls ill. An examination of the difficulties of aging and the mixture of confusion, resentment, love, loyalty, temper and persistence that comes when two people face a turning point in a long relationship and realize they can't quite go on as before. There is frustration and dread in the prospect of retirement, in moments of sexual incompatibility and dysfunction, in the fear that immortality might divide them, and in the opposite but equal fear that perhaps it won't after all. This is a fic that dwells in the ache of mudane sorrows and difficulties, but also shows how tenderly love can outshine them.

i trust the sanity of my vessel by karanguni (Batman comics, Dick Grayson-centric): Dick looks back, but mostly what he does is leap forwards. Short and lyrical, a light-hearted and sentimental slice of life. Some little turns of phrase have stuck with me a long time.

Escape Velocity by Vehemently (Firefly, Simon-centric): "I never saw much rain. Then I seen some, and it don't hold no fascination for me." Simon is unwaveringly protective of his sister, but sometimes his need to be in control -- combined with his memories of the younger, quite different person she used to be -- gets in the way of his ability to see and accept her for who she is now. This story handles all of that with admirable delicacy, sympathy toward all, and a vivid way of painting images across my mind.

Number 94 by tweedisgood (ACD Holmes): Appearances deceive. That is, one might say, their chief function. A funny yet yearning Victorian Holmes voice and an interesting look at Kitty Winter and Violet de Merville making their own way in the world as a team. Tweedisgood always includes fascinating Victorian details, too, in this case a glimpse at the booming women's wig industry.

Autumn in Wimpole by sans_patronymic (ACD Holmes): Watson struggles to uncover a mystery in a seaside village. Holmes is less than helpful. Oh, how I love an aging couple, one of whom is trying to trundle through a minor mystery while the other cheerfully obstructs! There's banter and grousing and deeply familiar affection on a dreary day in some small seafront town in the off-season. The details of the setting absolutely make this fic -- you feel like you're there.

No Little Charity by perspi (House MD, magical realism): It was an old ritual, old magic from before the world had rational explanations and cold science. Cold science had failed House; Wilson had nothing left to try but this. A bittersweet and deeply empathetic story in which Wilson finds a way to take House's pain and injury upon himself. He thought that would be that, but the complications of bearing this pain bring out new sides to both of them.

The Camford Dares by writerfan2013 (BBC Sherlock): Sherlock is being mysterious and secretive and John is being particularly stubborn and their annoying case in a well-known university town is not helping anything. Case!fic! Mystery and infuriation but ultimately Johnlock. To be honest, it's been a long time since I've read this one, but I remember it as a clever, admirably well-written fic that combined casework, character study, and romance in what seemed to me an excellent balance.

Green Improbable Fields by evadne: (BBC Sherlock) Sherlock works out what he needs to be happy. But he knows he doesn't deserve it, and he certainly never expects to get it. My first encounter with a fic about queerplatonic friendship. It struck me then, as it does now, as lovely and wistful and real. Oddly enough, what I remembered most were its words about forgiveness.

12. Recommend a fic that formed or changed your opinion on something (characterization, backstory, relationship, etc.):

Hmm, the stories that spring to mind first for this question are stories focused on characters I either didn't take much notice of, or kind of disliked in the original source material, but came to appreciate through seeing them more fully realized.

Amateur by fahye (Battlestar Galactica, Kara/Lee endgame, Sam Anders-centric). I didn't like the unhappy marriages and infidelities and miseries and contrivances of the four-way love triangle between Kara, Lee, Sam, and Dee on the show. I think it was handled badly. So I was very pleasantly surprised to find a fic that unravelled that particular knot in canon with kindness, affection, and respect toward Sam and Dee, and a keen observational eye on Kara and her emotional tripwires. This is a story that introduces us to Sam as a more complete person, a person finding his way toward his own sense of purpose.

Jason and Me by David Hines/hradzka (Batman comics, Stephanie Brown-centric). I had no opinion on the less popular Robins before reading this fic. But this humanizes and deepens them, makes you care, and makes you sad about the way fandoms can sometimes give the impression that there is Only One Best and everyone else should just go home. This fic instead embodies the true 'Two Cakes!' spirit, which is indeed the Batfamily spirit. It's also engaging gently with the weird and kind of uncomfortable bit of fandom history where comic book readers were asked to vote on whether the 15-year-old Jason character would live or die, and they voted to kill him. I believe this fic was written only shortly before Stephanie, too, was killed off in the comics due to lack of immediate popularity, which makes it all the more poignant. (Both deaths were later reversed, because that's what comic books do, and this fic is the reason I care enough to be glad about that).

As for creating backstory, there are a couple of Inception fics that did a lot of heavy-lifting for me. That is a movie in which almost nothing is established about the characters outside of their jobs, and it's a fandom that I got into because I wanted the backstory of Arthur's friendship with Mal and Dom.

Elevator Down by vikki (Inception). Arthur dreams up paradoxes. Cobb dreams up his late wife. One of these things is not like the other. One of these things is not safe. I just really like the way this story seizes on the idea that the violent, frightening version of Mal who appears in Dom's dream-world is not actually a shade of her, but instead a shade of *him*; it's the facet of Dom's subconscious that is suicidally guilty. On some level, Dom knows that Arthur is the person doing the most to keep him alive, and because a part of him doesn't want to stay alive, Arthur becomes the target of increasing violence in their shared dreams. It's a premise that adds a missing layer of emotion to the situation we encounter at the start of the film.

Presque Vu by rageprufrock (Inception, Arthur-centric). This is generally considered a masterpiece of this fandom and the definitive backstory fic for the film, all of which praise it deserves. But the main reason I love it is because I love Mal and Arthur's friendship, and this fic has so much time for them. It truly builds them up, makes me feel how vital they are to each other and how much their history matters, and how lost Arthur becomes when he loses her. In the end, though, it's also about moving through grief, second chances at love, and growing into oneself.

[toxicanonymity]

Blorbos for Democracy

SAVE act | fic event | 5calls | resistbot

You 🫵 can help save our voting rights by checking out these fics and sharing the ones you enjoy. ✨️ How does this help? Fics are posted as an answer to someone who recounts their easy and rewarding experience contacting congress. Spread the fic -> spread the word/resources, inspire action.

Raider Joel Miller

Feast: ✨️Raider PWP smut, morning after your first kiss. @valkyreally

Slow, deep, close Raider angsty PWP @cuntdestroyer3000

Night Walks Joel Miller

@tsukidoesthething ; @selfproclaimed-moviecritic; @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal; group chat anon; 🌿 fern anon; we the people anon

in the park; parked: He pursues you while you're walking (light predator/prey, manhandling, groping), then smut in in your car.

rested; ✨️🍃nugs and kisses: You stay over at his place, and he behaves that night but it's hard, then you hook up in the morning.

Story Time (hot smut in @thebrothel universe): He and Vamp tell you a filthy, explicit story involving double-vaginal penetration. Snowed in

cheetah print (leopard print AU): Joel finds you and gets you into his beach tent for smut. ✨️🐆🐆cheetah print pt. 2, with DP.

Joel "Jojo" Miller (Jailbird AU)

@romanarose, lemon anon

Cigarettes and Favors: Jojo flirts with prison guard Carter and they have a close physical encounter, almost hook up.

The Gig: You (Jailbird) try dancing at Jojo's club when your diner closes down, but Jojo gets unexpectedly possessive (smut).

Joel Miller

Easter party: Your "Daddy" finds you in the garden, semi-public smut ensues. @dark-scape

Stay: Spectral Jackson Joel (emotional smut drabble)

Slasher Joel Miller

Mama's Boy: Joel takes you to his mom's house for dinner and it's quite a ride

Narcos

Conversation pit: A foursome where Connie and you fool around while Javi and Steve watch and fool around. @tsukidoesthething

Love Lies Bleeding

Stretch: Lou admires Jackie, pleasures and fists her. @annoyingdog0

Crack not treated seriously

Slasher & Ghostface: A discussion about being nonconned, and suspicions of Ghostface being Night Walks. Anon

Joel outfits of the day: What are they wearing? @rifflovesjoey

Collages

Halloween collage foreshadowing the fic Wreck. @blakebloodbath

Josh Hartnett collage @doyjivisionn

Carter collage @clawdee

If I missed you, please lmk!

[mischievousmoony]

EEEEE SO CUTE!!! THIS IS SO CUTE!! he’s so sweet to her 💖💛🩵💜💖💜🩵🩷💛

FAVOURITISM.

tangerine x fem!reader

wc. 1956 summary. tangerine was put out of work following the events of an accident. as a result, he created his own business, applying all of his knowledge. you work as a secretary cross technical assistant for him and working very closely to the big bad boss catches the eyes of your peers. one day he notices a change in your workwear — proving to you, he’s been paying a lot more attention than you originally thought. boss x secretary. disclaimer. the images at the bottom are just a reference of what I picture the reader wearing. they are not a reflection of how I write or see yn (colour and body type) it’s merely a way to show you what I envisioned

MY 2 YEAR ANNIVERSARY! it’s only right that I write for tan seeing as it all started with him xx also a big big loving thank you to @pretty-little-mind33 for the idea and brainstorming with me. literally would not have done this without her <33

[ ⋆.˚ 𖥔˚ READ PART 2 HERE ]

⎯ ☆ ⎯

It wasn’t often that you’d find yourself not looking forward to work — feeling anxious to get in. Your love for what you do always seeming to overshadow any discomfort.

For the last several months, you’ve been working as a technical assistant cross secretary for your boss, Tangerine. No one knew of his real name, and you were starting to think that’s the way it’ll always be. 

Last night after your shift, you were brought to HR for an unexpected meeting, being called up on a dress code violation. Multiple complaints made around the office about your bright tights and flowy shirts, being told that it was ‘unfit for work’ and a ‘distraction.’ You knew you weren’t exactly well liked around the office — the sneers and scowls made your way making that evident. But never did you think they would go so far out of their way to complain about you. 

Their dislike for you felt territorial — judgy eyes always seeming to follow you as you attend to the needs and wants of your boss. The attention you gain from the broody, grumpy man in charge, simply asks and tasks you agreed to in your job description. The repetitive calls for your name only ever consisting of tea requests or computer help. It left you feeling confused and isolated, constantly wondering why they hated you so much. You were only ever doing your job. Doing what was asked of you. 

So, as you sit in your car before the start of the workday, you use your spare few moments to collect yourself, preparing for those same judgemental stares. You look down at your legs briefly, noticing the lack of colour — your usual patterned tights now being replaced with grey, drab trousers. All of your vibrancy and exuberancy —personality— stolen when told to make this change. 

You exhale, giving yourself one last second of sanity before you’re getting out of the car, juggling your bags and cups of coffee in hand. Stepping into the building and into the elevator with a small crowd, you become invisible, blending in with everyone — becoming what you’ve always dreaded: a lifeless office zombie, sharing the same apathetic, dull expression with all those around you. 

You reach your floor and exit with the few remaining others in the lift. You deviate from your colleagues and head for your bosses office at the back, giving his door a couple of knocks. 

“Yeah?” he calls out, and you slowly push the door open.

His usual rigged, intimidating gaze softens as his eyes fall on you through the gap, his attention landing on you over the top of his computer.

“You’re late,” he says, the words a reprimand for most, but for you they were more of an observation — a casual, flyaway statement. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Traffic was a nightmare,” you apologise as you step into his office, avoiding his eyes like you were ashamed. 

You look down to the coffees in hand and pass him the one without the lipstick mark, extending an arm as you move to stand beside his desk.

“Don’t worry about it. It happens,” he reassures. And as he takes the cup from your hold, he glances down, noticing the lack of your familiar flamboyance. “What’re you wearing?”

You look down confused, brows pulling together as if to show you didn’t understand his question.

“The trousers,” he looks up at you, gaze almost harsh. “Why're you wearing them?” 

He has never seen you wear trousers.

“Thought I’d shake things up,” you shrug with your lie, not wanting him to know the real reason.

You didn’t want to give your peers more reason to hate you by tattling to the boss — complaining about them being mean to you, so you decided against it, keeping him from the truth. Though it’s far harder than you anticipated, his eyes ever so demanding as he remains fixed on you above. 

“So no smiley face is also part of you shaking things up?” he questions, showing you the blank cup — your usual sharpie smileys nowhere to be seen. 

You wince slightly, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. You weren’t sure if the embarrassment was from the fact he noticed or that you forgot. But humiliation was felt either way.

“It’ll save us the ballache if you tell me why,” he takes a sip of his drink and places it aside, giving you his full attention. “I can call a staff meeting, but I reckon they’ll get suspicious after seeing us talk,” he playfully blackmails, offering you a faint smile to show you his bribe holds no such malice.

You turn and look out through the window of his office, picking up on dozens of sets of eyes glued to you through the gap of his blinds. All of which briskly turn away upon the glance of Tangerine, his eyeline following yours — scaring your peers back into work.

“What’d they do?” he asks, redirecting your focus back to him.

“I just got a complaint, that’s all,” you shrug, trying to minimise it as much as possible.

“Why?” he asks bluntly, neck craning to keep your eyes on him.

“They don’t like the way I dress apparently,” you laugh faintly, the noise sounding far more hurt than you intended. “I mean I get it,” you deflect, trying not to slip into a habit of seeking him for assurance when people in the office turn against you. “I get what they mean.”

He’s quiet as he looks over you, head shaking disapprovingly as he mumbles something incoherent. He inhales deeply and then coughs to clear his throat, sounding like he was preparing for something. 

“I gotta meet with some people, but I’ll see what I can do,” he says as he stands, reaching for his briefcase. “Don’t let these miserable lot get to you,” he smiles weakly as he collects his coffee cup, heading towards the door until he stops, and turns around to face you. “They hate that I don’t hate you, that’s all.” 

Your eyes follow after him as he leaves his office, leaving you standing there alone to process his words. You’ve never really picked up on the hinted favouritism like your colleagues have — never seeming to notice the allowances and kindness your peers aren’t granted with. But you were only ever doing as told, why would that warrant any special treatment? 

And with that thought in mind, you head towards your desk just outside of his office, setting your things on your neatly, organised table. Placing your hot drink in his designated spot besides your computer, you log on — attending to emails and to things on your extensive to do list.

A few hours pass you by.

You’re interrupted from all work when you feel the presence of someone standing behind you, your boss now back from his meeting with a pile of papers in hand.

“Need you to sort these out for me,” he says as places the stack beside your hand. “Please,” he adds, trying to keep up with the habit he’s trying to enforce by showing his appreciation. But only to you.

You look down to the pile, noticing a gap in between the blank, plain papers. You look up at him briefly, like you were asking permission and then your eyes fall back onto the stack. And as you go to lift the upper chunk of papers, Tangerine is moving from you and into his office, a new bag —a shopping bag— held within the hand of his briefcase. You take little to no notice and turn your attention back to the pile, a square paper bag hiding within the fake forms. The perfect cloak of disguise. 

You didn’t need to look inside to know what it was, the warm circle giving it away immediately. It was a cookie. You swivel in your chair to look into his office, his eyes already on you through the gap in his blinds. The gap you’re now starting to believe holds another purpose. You smile at him sweetly, mouthing thanks before resuming with your work — wanting to get it all done before the end of the day.

And as five pm soon rolls around and as everyone begins logging off and packing up for home, you turn to look back at Tangerine, a pained expression on his face as he rolls his shoulder. His old injury you know very little about seeming to give him grief.  

The floor begins to clear and you collect your things, walking those few steps until you’re in front of your boss's door. You give it a light tap and enter when welcomed.

“You off?” he asks, turning his attention to you in his doorframe. 

“Yep,” you smile, lingering for a moment. “Thank you for the cookie, by the way.”

“It’s alright,” he gently smiles, head bowing almost bashfully. “Hang on and I’ll walk you out. Don’t want you out in the dark by yourself.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you deflect, not wanting to be a bother. “Really it’s okay, my car is only outside.”

He shakes his head at you as he gives his desk a quick tidy, packing things up for the night. Tangerine stands and collects his belongings, picking up his coat from the rack and small bag from the side before he’s heading to you, guiding you along. 

You each walk towards the open elevators and head in, standing side by side —close— within the confined space. 

He twists inwards to face you. “I uh,” he starts, extending the shopping bag from earlier to you. “I picked something up for you.”

Your brows tug in the middle, looking up at him like you were questioning the reasoning why. You take it from his hand and look inside. 

“No,” you whisper, sheer disbelief in your voice as you pull out the gift. “These are beautiful! Where did you even find them?” you question, looking over the tights, marvelling at the pattern. 

He keeps his head cast downwards, looking between his feet as he smiles, appreciating your appreciation. “It’s a secret.”

The elevator dings, cutting your time short and you both look at each other, the glance brief. He holds his arm out, gesturing for you to step off first,  and you do. You linger, waiting for him to join so you could walk besides one another. 

The walk towards your car is slow, as if both of you are trying to savour the short journey, hang on to it. Small chuckles and shy, stolen glances being the only form of communication during your minute long walk.

You reach into your bag and pull out your keys to unlock your car, the dozen chains and charms jingling and clattering with the movement of your hand. 

Tangerine reaches for your door, pulling the handle to open it for you — nodding you inside. You smile at him sweetly as you get in, placing your bags on the passenger seat. 

“You get home safe, alright?” he says, grinning softly.

“I will,” you look down coyly, smile faint.

He nods once. “Good.”

“See you monday?” 

“Mhm-hm,” he hums, expression gentle as he goes to close your door. “Have a good weekend,” he says before shutting you inside.

You exhale shakily within the quiet sanctuary of your car, the lack of noise allowing your mind to run rampant with repeats from the last few minutes. You glance down to your gift, trying to process it all until your eyes land on the tag — his name, his real name squiggled on the note.

The favouritism you’ve struggled to notice becomes as clear as day. Every interaction from the past now being thought of differently as you look back on it all. 

⎯ ☆ ⎯

in my mind she’s very penelope garcia/ louisa clark/ phoebe buffay coded (more so in dress sense) she’s cute and i love her

[blackfyrerebels]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Miscellaneous *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

smut = ❤️‍🔥 (please note I may forget to add the heart, so read the tags yourself)

This masterlist is mostly for my own use, but also serves as a recommendation to anyone who stumbles upon this blog, and an archive in case any fics are deleted or blogs go inactive. If you would like your fic removed please message me.

Allison Reynolds

tag: #basketcase "Obsessed" - @bloody-cupcakes Kleptomaniac - @lanawinterscigarettes

Angus Tully

tag: #angustully Merry Christmas, Please Don't Call | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 - @anyarose011

Carl Grimes

tag: #carlgrimes My Parent's Rings - @carlsangel

Andrew Hozier-Byrne

tag: #hozier Double Babysitter - @man-i-love-fanfiction

Dale Cooper

tag: #dalecooper Bothered - @iwritefandomimagines Dale Cooper x Reader - @pinkdaiisies Dale x intern!reader - @4pologygir1

Edmund Pevensie

tag: #edmundpevensie Three Years - @writersmacchiato

Haymitch Abernathy

tag: #haymitch A Pawn Once More - @ama0310

Hawkeye Pierce

tag: #hawkeye Pediatrics - @callsign-scully It's Never Your Fault - @lunarsaturn88 Just the Way You Are - @shmaptainwrites "Care Package" - @myveryownfanfiction Good Enough - @make-me-imagine

Johnny

tag: #nakedjohnny The Couch Degenerate ❤️‍🔥 - @chicaboom-chic note: dead dove Thank You - @justagirlwholikesadam

Josephine March

tag: #jomarch We Fell In Love In October - @cauliflowertree

Kevin Khatchadourian

tag: #kevinkhatchadourian Tender - @unwantedshivering

Marty McFly

tag: #martymcfly All of You - @ash5monster01

Mickey Barnes

tag: #mickeybarnes I Won't Leave You | Part 2 - @strangecreaturewrites Not A Sin | Part 2 - @strangecreaturewrites

Nathan Caine

tag: #novocaine "Kissing in the office" - @scarletttries

Rustin Cohle

tag: #rustincohle Televangelism - @fallenprophets Bird In a Cage - @reds-writings

Sayid Jarrah

tag: #sayidjarrah Hope - @underratedbreadcrust

[escespace]

At what point did we collectively decide as a fandom to ignore that The darkest hour is a perfect episode to inspire Hundreds of fics where Arthur pokes his head out of his royal ass?

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: Year Five Masterpost

WHAT A SPECIAL WEEK, Y'ALL! This week marks the end of the FIFTH FULL YEAR I've done UNINTERRUPTED FIC RECS every SINGLE FRIDAY! This is quite the achievement, I think. I genuinely didn't think I would make it this long being a reliable source for guaranteed recs every Friday 💜 It's something I'm super proud of and something I really genuinely hope that you guys love as much as I love posting them. I SERIOUSLY couldn't do it without you guys, since I literally get these weekly suggestions primarily from y'all!

For anyone who is new to my blog, every SINGLE Friday I post up 5 fics recently added to either my Marked for Later list or my Bookmarks, or as a way to promote new fics suggested to me by authors as a Signal Boosted fic! I haven't missed a single Friday since its inception in 2019, and it's still going strong!! It's the ONLY guaranteed weekly list on this blog, since YOU GUYS provide me the content!! :D I love doing it, and it makes authors feel loved :)

Next Friday, September 27, 2024 starts year six, so until there, here's your opportunity to check out any lists you may have missed this past year!

There are over 1,300 fics on the lists below, and that DOESN'T count the bonus extended lists I do once in awhile!!!

Again, hope you enjoy and I hope you guys continue to support my fic rec lists. For anyone curious, these are the best lists to get fresh new fics, as often these lists feature fics that authors have posted recently! Enjoy!

PREVIOUS YEARS (2019 to 2023):

YEAR ONE MASTERPOST (Sept 29/19 to Sept 25/20)

YEAR TWO MASTERPOST (Sept 25/20 to Sept 24/21)

YEAR THREE MASTERPOST (Oct 1/21 to Sept 23/22)

YEAR FOUR MASTERPOST (Sept 30/22 to Sept 22/23)

YEAR 5 OF FIVE FICS FRIDAY:

September 29/23

October 6/23

October 13/23

October 20/23

October 27/23

November 3/23

November 10/23

November 17/23

5FF “LOKI” Bonus: November 17/23

November 24/23

December 1/23

December 8/23

December 15/23

December 22/23

December 29/23

January 5/24

January 12/24

January 19/24

January 26/24

February 2/24

February 9/24

February 16/24

February 23/24

March 1/24

March 8/24

March 15/24

March 22/24

March 29/24

April 5/24

April 12/24

April 19/24

April 26/24

May 3/24

May 10/24

May 17/24

May 24/24

May 31/24

June 7/24

June 14/24

June 21/24

June 28/24

July 5/24

July 12/24

July 19/24

July 26/24

August 2/24

August 9/24

August 16/24

August 23/24

August 30/24

September 6/24

September 13/24

September 20/24

[shamrockqueen]

Fic Recs (All works 18+)

Snap shot by @shellshocklove

(Logan Howlett x Reader making a sexy video) ❤️❤️

Savage Bonds by @foreverdolly

(Feyd Rautha x Atreides Reader) ❤️❤️

Never gonna give you up by @psycheetamore and @austinbutlerslovers

(Feyd Rautha X reader) ❤️❤️

Who’s the boss? By @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor

(Boss Lloyd Hansen x Assistant Reader) ❤️❤️

The Oath by @thecleverdame

(Conqueror Alpha Sam Winchester X Princess Reader) ❤️❤️

The paramour by @historygeekfics

(Sub Knight Bucky x Noblewoman Reader) ❤️❤️

Not a little (Just a lot) By @abbysbenchpr

(bob floyd x wife!reader) ❤️

I can do a lot with 15 minutes By @abbysbenchpr

(bob reynolds x thunderbolt f!reader) ❤️

Kerosene by @bitterrfruit

(Criminal on the run Ghost x Kidnapped Reader) ❤️

AO3 Recs

Priest!Bucky Writings by bucky_barnes_diaries (self explanatory) ❤️❤️

Through Every Forest By TheIceniBitch (Alpha Curtis Everett X Omega Reader) ❤️❤️

Blood and Honey (fugitives Alpha Sam and Dean Winchester x Omega reader) and Swept away (It’s a wonderful Life AU Alpha Sam x Omega Reader) by @kittenofdoomage - They do a lot of great ABO ❤️❤️

The Mortal Flaws Series by @wolveria (Human Rk800, Rk800-60, and Rk900 x an Android Reader) ❤️

Unholy by beskars (Sith Obi Wan Kenobi x Reader) ❤️❤️

The Locked door by guardianangelcas (Virgin Obi Wan Kenobi x Force sensitive Reader) ❤️❤️

Ready By LadyLaumes (Bane X Reader) ❤️❤️

Hearts?

❤️ = I’ve only read it once but it lives rent free in my brain and haunts my naughtiest of thoughts.

❤️❤️ = I’ve read it multiple times and Continue to Go back to it time and time again.

[mischievousmoony]

ALWAYS IN AWE OF YOUR WRITING ELINA YOURE SO TALENTED!!! you take my breath away every time and i always feel so quickly immersed in your stories!

EEE i am so giddy this series is gonna alter my brain chemistry❣️

Peonies ; part one

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is devastated when Mattheo gets a girlfriend and asks Theo to help her get over him.

Word Count: 5030

Warnings: Unrequited love & reader crying. Let me know if there's more; I probably forgot something.

A/N 💌 I am so excited about the first part of this series—it's been in my head for weeks! Big thank you to @moonpascal for reading and editing! I'm so excited to hear your thoughts!

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

Against your better judgment, you’d fallen hard for Mattheo Riddle. And yet, you were fully aware that nothing would ever come of it. 

You’d grown up in the same circles, your families often crossing paths at dinners and parties, but you were never particularly close—barely acknowledging each other in those polished, formal settings. It wasn’t until you both started at Hogwarts that any real connection formed. Being eleven and navigating the overwhelming experience of a new school was daunting for anyone. When you both were sorted into Slytherin, the shared familiarity in an unfamiliar place naturally drew you together.

Over time, you’d been there for him more times than you could count. You were the one cleaning his cuts after a fight, always telling him it was the last time because you couldn’t bear to see him get hurt. Yet, each time he showed up, you let him in with an exasperated huff, carefully tending to his wounds. When he’d appear at your door late at night, eyes dark with whatever was haunting him, you’d silently walk with him, sitting together in the quiet of the common room until the tension in his shoulders finally eased. You’d pretend to be annoyed when he asked to copy your coursework, but in truth, you savored every moment he sat close to you—the way his arm would brush against yours as he scribbled down your notes, the warmth of him, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air—leaving you longing for him to stay close just a little longer, even though you knew he never would.

He moved from one fling to the next, a string of one-night stands that never seemed to reach his heart. While you’d never been one of them, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if you were. A stubborn, hopeless part of you clung to the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, he’d one day let you be the one he trusted with more than just a night tangled in the sheets.

Your friends always joked that if Mattheo ever got serious about a girl, it would be you—but you knew the chances of that were painfully slim.

So you were caught off guard when you walked into the common room and saw a girl you barely recognized sitting with your friends. Cozied up in the same armchair as Mattheo. Your steps faltered as you approached, trying to piece together who she was and why she was sitting with your friends. It wasn’t that you were opposed to meeting new people, but your group had never once welcomed anyone new.

“Hey, love.” Enzo murmured, patting the cushion beside him on the couch. He’s the only one who’s noticed you so far; the rest are absorbed in their heated discussion about the latest Quidditch match. You slide onto the couch next to him, your gaze briefly flicking to the girl sitting directly across from you, trying to place her.

“Hey, Enz.” You say with a soft smile, setting your bag down as you settle onto the couch.

“What’s going on?” You tilt your head toward the girl, and Enzo glances in her direction. She’s not paying attention, her gaze fixed on Mattheo with a lovesick expression.

“I’m not sure,” Enzo replies quietly, ensuring his voice doesn’t carry. “Mattheo just introduced us, and we’re all a bit confused about it too I think.”

“Oh.” You murmur and Enzo watches you carefully. He knows about your feelings for Mattheo; he’d have to be blind not to notice.

Enzo leans in closer, and you shift your gaze to him. “Listen, love—”

Enzo doesn’t get to finish before a soft gasp of your name catches your attention. You look over, surprised to see the girl leaning forward with her hand extended. You notice that her other hand still has a grip on Mattheo.

“I’m Veronica,” she says warmly, her smile never wavering. “Mattheo’s girlfriend.”

The word hits you like a punch to the gut. You’re at a loss for words, unsure if you can even find any.

Girlfriend. Since when does Mattheo Riddle have a girlfriend? And why wasn’t he introducing her himself?

You want to question her about it, to find out when this happened and how she managed to get past his walls. Because you had been trying for years. Instead, you sit there in stunned silence, your eyes darting between her hand and her face. Your mind is racing, trying to process the truth you’ve been blindsided by. You’d known he’d never be yours, not in the way you wanted, but hearing it, seeing it so plainly in front of you, feels like a cruel twist of fate.

Forcing a smile, you finally take her hand, the gesture automatic and devoid of real warmth. “Nice to meet you.” You manage to say, though the words feel foreign on your tongue.

Her smile widens, and she shifts closer to Mattheo as if silently asserting her place by his side. Your eyes flicker to Mattheo, whose attention is pulled to Veronica as she presses closer into him. You study his face intently, searching for any hint of his feelings toward her, hoping to find anything that might betray his feelings.

But when you see the way he looks at her—eyes soft, filled with a tenderness you’ve never seen from him before—your stomach churns with a sickening mix of jealousy and heartache. 

His eyes meet yours, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Can’t wait for my two favorite girls to get to know each other better,” he says, the warmth in his voice making your chest tighten.

You glance at Veronica as she nods enthusiastically. “Me too, Matty,” she says, her voice dripping with sweetness. “I’m already so excited for the girls’ nights we’re going to have.”

You can’t tell if she’s genuinely that nice or just putting on a show for Mattheo. “Oh yeah. Can’t wait,” you say, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. Neither of them notices the unease behind it—they’re too wrapped up in each other, their attention locked in a gaze that makes you feel invisible.

You tear your gaze away, the sight of them together too painful to endure, and instead turn to Enzo. “What the hell?” you mutter, barely managing to keep your voice steady.

“I’m sorry, love, I wanted to tell you before they did,” Enzo whispers, wincing as he gives your hand a quick squeeze. You murmur a soft “It’s okay,” but inside, you’re far from feeling that way.

Desperately, you try to compose yourself, but the effort feels pointless. As your eyes wander, they lock with Theo's. He’s watching you, his expression unreadable. You muster a soft smile, hoping to mask the heartbreak inside, but he doesn’t return it; he just keeps watching, his gaze heavy with something you can't quite place.

You manage to stay for half an hour, offering the occasional nod and murmured agreement to feign interest in the conversation. But your mind is elsewhere, detached from the words being exchanged. No one seems to notice your distraction; they’re all too absorbed in their own banter to catch the distant look in your eyes.

Without realizing it, your gaze keeps drifting back to the couple. Veronica rests her head on Mattheo’s shoulder, and his hand is gently resting on her knee, his thumb brushing softly against her skin. You can’t help but notice how at ease he seems with this physical intimacy—something you’re surprised he’d be so comfortable with.

When Pansy casually asked how Mattheo and Veronica had met, you felt a surge of restless energy. Without thinking, you abruptly stood up, the couch creaking loudly at the force. The sudden noise drew the attention of everyone in the room. All eyes shifted to you, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity as they awaited your next move.

“Um,” you winced as the room's gaze fixed on you, feeling the heat of their attention. “I’m afraid I'm coming down with a migraine. I’m going to bed early tonight.”

Your friends’ voices fade into the background as they shout their goodnights, the words scarcely reaching your ears. You speed through the common room and down the cold, empty hallway, desperate for the seclusion of your dorm. Just as you’ve made it halfway to your room, a firm grip catches your hand. Startled, you spin around to find Theo standing there, his eyes searching yours with a mix of concern and hesitation.

“Dolcezza,” he says softly, his voice a gentle caress in the quiet hallway. His eyes follow the tears streaming down your cheeks, and you watch through blurry vision as he takes a tentative step closer. “What’s going on?”

You open your mouth to respond but find yourself unable to form the words. The lump in your throat feels insurmountable. Instead, you just shake your head slightly, your tears continuing to fall unchecked.

He releases a quiet sigh and says, “Come here.” Without a second thought, you step closer, encircling his waist with your arms while resting your head against his chest. His arms come up to settle around your shoulders, and he gently rests his head against yours. As you press your face into his chest, sniffling softly, he whispers soothing words in Italian, his voice a comforting murmur. 

You must have been standing in the cold corridor for fifteen minutes before the distant murmur of approaching students prompts Theo to gently pull himself from you. He takes your hand, his touch warm against the chill, guiding you away from the freezing corridor.

“It’s just you and Pansy, right?” He asks, using his hand to guide you in front of him to let you go ahead and enter your room first.

“Yeah, but she’ll probably stay with Blaise.” You say softly, the strain in your voice revealing that you’ve been crying. ​​Theo doesn’t say anything; he’s long since lost count of the times he’s told them off for leaving the curtains open or forgetting to cast a silencing spell. Instead, he follows you into your dorm, the door clicking softly behind him.

The walls are lined with polaroids of the group, and Theo’s gaze lingers on the numerous pictures of you and Mattheo. Your dark wood desk is topped with a silver lamp and a few textbooks, its surface cluttered with quills and scattered notes. Mattheo’s jersey is draped over the back of your chair, and Theo recalls all the times seeing you wear it at each game. Your teddy, a well-worn bear that Theo recognizes as the same one you bring every year, sits at the top of your desk. 

The room feels markedly warmer than the corridor outside, though it might just be because it’s your room.

“You can sit.” You offer. Theo’s eyes move to where you’re perched on the edge of your bed watching him.

You’ve kicked off your shoes and tossed your robes over your trunk. He swallows, his gaze lingering on you. Despite the tear stains on your cheeks, he finds it hard to look away, thinking how pretty you look.

It’s rare for him to spend time with you alone. Usually, when you’re together, it’s with the rest of your friends. Over the years, you’ve been paired up in classes a few times, but neither of you has ever gone out of your way to be alone together.

He sits down next to you on the bed, deliberately leaving some space between you. For a while, neither of you speaks. When Theo finally glances at you out of the corner of his eye, he notices you staring at a polaroid of you and Mattheo. It was taken at a party celebrating Slytherin’s win. In the photo, you’re perched on his lap, one arm casually draped around his shoulder, the other holding up a cup of whatever you were drinking. Your smile is bright, full of life, while Mattheo’s is more subdued, but there’s no mistaking the way he’s looking at you—content, almost in awe, as you laugh above him.

He was sure you two were going to get together that night.

“Dolcezza,” He murmurs. You hum to show you’re listening, but don’t look away from the picture. “You know I’m here for you. In any way you need me.”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the picture at first, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you stare at it. Finally, you let out a sigh and turn to him, “I appreciate that. But how fair would it be for me to vent about your best friend to you?”

It’s the first time he’s ever heard you say anything that hints at your feelings for Mattheo.

“I don’t care about him right now. I care about you.” He says, and you look a tad surprised at his words.

There’s a moment of quiet as you process Theo’s words. He’s always been Mattheo’s best friend, so hearing him dismiss Mattheo like that catches you off guard. You hesitate, not wanting to unload all your feelings onto him, especially since the mere thought of talking about Mattheo and Veronica makes your stomach turn.

“Theo,” you sigh, your voice tinged with vulnerability, on the verge of breaking. He can hear how close you are to tears. “Will you lie with me? If that’s weird, I understand—”

But before you can finish, Theo gently takes your hand, his grip warm and reassuring, leaving no room for doubt. He gives a small nod, silently gesturing for you to lie down, and you follow his lead. 

“Where do you want me, dolcezza?” he asks, his voice soft. You feel a momentary hesitation, your heart stuttering at the tenderness in his tone.

“Um,” you murmur, turning onto your side, feeling the vulnerability settling in your stomach. “Will you face me?”

Theo doesn’t hesitate. He moves effortlessly, sliding into place beside you. You watch as he slips off his shoes and sets them aside, then settles himself on the bed, positioning his body so he’s facing you. You find yourself holding your breath, acutely aware of how close he is—how you’re sharing the same pillow and could study every detail of his face if you wanted to.

“Thank you.” You say, and you cringe inwardly at the way your voice wavers. It’s as if your sadness is laid bare, impossible to mask.

His eyes gently trace your features, a soft concern evident in his expression as he takes in the sight of you, “For?”

“Laying with me. Coming to check on me,” Your voice drops to a whisper and your eyes well up in tears when you think about why you were upset in the first place. “It means a lot.”

Theo lets out a soft hum, his gaze tender as he lifts his hand to gently brush away a tear that slips from your eye. His touch lingers, the pad of his thumb making slow, deliberate strokes against your skin, as if taking his time. His eyes meet yours, and you watch him with your lips slightly parted, overwhelmed by the unexpected tenderness of his touch. The softness of his fingers against your face feels soothing; you’ve never had anyone touch you like this before.

You shift closer to Theo, and for a moment, he tenses, as if unsure of your proximity. The hesitation makes you wonder if this closeness is too much, but then he wraps his arm around you and draws you in, holding you firmly against him. You let your eyes flutter shut, inhaling his cologne—surprisingly more comforting to you than Mattheo’s—and feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt.

As his fingers move gently over your hair, a calming touch, you rest your head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat becomes a soothing reminder that you aren’t alone, and soon you find yourself drifting off, wrapped in his quiet of your dorm.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

When you wake up, Theo is gone, and you’re not sure if you’re more disappointed or relieved. Given how you feel, you’re leaning toward the latter. Your head throbs with a sharp, relentless ache, and your puffy eyes serve as a reminder of the tears you shed last night.

You’re nearly done getting ready when Pansy slips into the dorm, her brows knitting in surprise as she takes in the sight of you. 

Her gaze lingers on the dark circles under your eyes and the slight tremor in your hands as you fix your tie, “I didn’t think you’d be leaving the dorm today.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You snap and Pansy raises an amused brow at the agitation in your voice.

“I didn’t think you’d be in the mood to see them.” She heads to her trunk, her current clothes rumpled and clearly in need of a fresh uniform. You don’t need her to spell it out—you know exactly who she’s talking about.

“I left because I had a migraine.” You grit out and she glances over her shoulder, obviously amused and doubtful at your answer.

“Really? A migraine after seeing those two?” Pansy hums, rummaging through her trunk with deliberate slowness, her eyes flicking to you as if gauging your reaction. “They were all over each other last night. Who’s to say they won’t be again today?”

You stiffen at the mention of Mattheo and his girlfriend, your fingers pausing on your tie. The events of last night rush back—Veronica’s hand on Mattheo, the way he looked at her. You feel a fresh wave of nausea but push it down, not wanting to give Pansy the satisfaction of seeing you upset.

“It doesn’t bother me.” You mutter, trying to sound indifferent, though your voice wavers slightly. You force your hands to finish with your tie, pulling it tighter than necessary.

Pansy glances over at you, a flicker of something like sympathy in her eyes, as she drops the amused smirk, “You know you can tell me, right? About how you feel about him.”

You study Pansy, debating whether to finally say what you’ve kept to yourself for so long. It’s only been hours since you basically admitted it to Theo, and now telling Pansy feels like too much—though you’re sure they’d suspected for a while. But voicing it out loud feels like stepping into territory you’re not ready to face.

“What difference does it make, Pans? He’s got a girlfriend now.” You sigh, the sadness from last night seeping into your words. She abandons her trunk, standing up to fully face you, her expression unreadable.

“If it helps, we were all surprised.” She says, her voice unexpectedly gentle. “None of us had a clue he was sleeping with anyone more than once.”

Your stomach churns further, “I don’t think that really helps, Pans.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she says, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of comfort. “I could make her life a nightmare if you want. Perhaps then she’d decide it’s not worth it.”

“No,” you say, wincing as you stare at the wall, feeling the heaviness of the room. “I want him to be happy, and if she makes him happy, then I need to accept it. Even if it hurts.”

Pansy narrows her eyes, disbelief crossing her face. “Are you joking? You’d make him happy—”

“Pansy,” you cut her off, frustration making your voice sharper. “I don’t need you to fix this. I just need to figure out how to deal with it myself.”

Pansy falls silent, her gaze shifting as she takes in the raw pain on your face, a flicker of guilt passing over her expression. She heads off to change, leaving you on your bed, the weight of her offer hanging in the air. You sit there, lost in thought, waiting for her to finish getting ready. Despite her nights spent with Blaise, you both always made a point to walk to breakfast together.

When Pansy finally emerges, you both make your way to the Great Hall in quiet unison. The hum of conversation and the steady flow of students around you create a backdrop of normalcy.

“What did you do after you left last night?” Pansy asks, her gaze shifting from the bustling corridor to you.

“Had a good cry.” You reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the heaviness you feel.

Pansy’s brow furrows. “Darling, you shouldn’t have been alone.”

“I wasn’t.” You say, almost reluctantly.

“What do you mean?”

“Theo came back to the dorm with me,” you explain, your voice softer now. “He stayed with me, just… holding me, until I fell asleep.”

Pansy’s eyes widen slightly, and she falls quiet for a moment, “He did?”

You let out a soft hum, and Pansy grips at your hand, her touch both firm and reassuring. Her eyes reflect a mix of concern and guilt as she looks at you.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice softening with sincerity. “I should’ve come to check on you instead of leaving it to Theo. I didn’t realize your feelings for Mattheo were this strong.”

You shake your head slightly, your gaze dropping to where her fingers clasp yours. “It’s okay,” you murmur, trying to steady your voice. “Theo being there helped more than I thought it would. I’m glad I wasn’t alone.”

Pansy nods, her expression softening. “I wish I’d known,” she says quietly. “I would’ve gone with you immediately. I just thought you needed some space.”

You offer a small, appreciative smile, grateful for her concern. “Thanks, Pansy. It means a lot.”

Pansy pulls you into a warm hug, and despite the heaviness in your chest, you can’t help but chuckle at the unexpected show of affection. When she finally lets go, she takes your hand and leads you toward the Great Hall. 

As you make your way to the Slytherin table, your spirits, momentarily lifted by Pansy’s support, are quickly deflated when you see who’s occupying your usual spot.

A heavy weight settles in your stomach as you spot Veronica nestled against Mattheo’s side, her head tilted as she whispers something into his ear. His laughter, genuine and warm, makes your appetite vanish. You decide that you’re not very hungry anymore.

You swallow hard, struggling to keep your emotions in check. Pansy gives your hand a comforting squeeze and gestures toward an empty seat beside Theo. Usually, Theo would be across from Mattheo, but today he’s positioned next to Draco. You hesitate, not wanting to assume he saved the spot for you, but then Theo turns and offers you a gentle smile—a smile you’ve never seen him give anyone else. As you stand there, he reaches out with that soft smile, his hand extended to gently guide you into the seat beside him.

You settle into the seat beside Theo, and with a resigned sigh, you reach for some food to add to your plate. Even though your appetite is all but gone, you know it’s important to eat.

Theo leans in slightly, his voice a low murmur as he meets your gaze. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up,” he says quietly. “I had something I needed to take care of.” “That’s alright,” You murmur, sending him a quick, soft smile. “Were you able to get any sleep last night?”

Theo hesitates, unsure whether to tell you that it was the best sleep he’s had in a while or simply agree. He settles for a nod, “Uh yeah. I slept pretty good. Did you?”

“As well as I could,” You shrug, “But it was nice having you there.” He can see how flustered you are to utter those words, your gaze fixed on the tea you're stirring, and he struggles to resist the urge to offer to stay the night with you again.

“I meant what I said. I’m here for you in anyway that you need me.” You turn towards him, your expression softening as you take in the genuine look on his face. Your lips part, but you can’t manage to get anything past them. The way he’s looking at you makes you nervous.

“Oi! What are you two whispering about?” Theo’s head snaps toward Draco, who is watching you both with a look of clear distaste at the way you were leaning into each other, gazing at one another so intently.

“Nothing.” Theo snaps out, and Draco raises an eyebrow at the sharpness in his tone. A sly grin begins to form on Draco’s face as he opens his mouth to speak, but Theo interrupts with a low murmur that you can’t quite make out. Draco doesn’t say anything, but faces his breakfast with a disgruntled look on his face.

Theo engages in a lively conversation with Enzo and Draco, leaving you content to eat in quiet. However, it’s not long before Veronica's giggles start to cut through the silence, growing louder with each passing moment. When you finally look up, your heart sinks. Mattheo’s arm is wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as he murmurs something into her ear. She glances up at him, still laughing, and Mattheo leans in, pressing a kiss to her lips.

Overwhelmed, you instinctively reach for Theo’s thigh, your hand gripping it tightly as you try to steady yourself. Theo looks at you, startled by your sudden reaction, but you’re not meeting his gaze. Instead, he follows your line of sight to where Mattheo and Veronica are entwined, lost in their own world. 

He drops his fork with a sigh, his hand immediately reaching out to grasp yours with a firm, reassuring grip. His touch is warm and steady as he gently pulls your focus from the scene before you. Theo's gaze lingers on the tear-brimmed edges of your eyes, his expression a mix of concern and quiet determination. He glances at your friends, still lost in their animated conversation, and feels a pang of relief that they’re oblivious to the devastation written across your face.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, rising from his seat while maintaining a firm hold on your hand. With a quick, reassuring glance, he leans down to grab your bag. “I’ll walk you to class a bit early.”

Without a word, you follow him, casting a glance back at Pansy. You silently mouth ‘class’ to her as she watches you with curiosity from over your shoulder. If your friends notice the way Theo’s hand is intertwined with yours, they make no sign of it.

The moment you're out in the hall, it feels like you can finally breathe again. A few tears slip down your cheeks, and you cling tightly to Theo’s hand as you walk, finding some comfort in the steady warmth of his touch. You appreciate how he doesn’t push you to talk or ask any questions, just quietly staying by your side. There's a comfort in knowing he’s there if you need him, without the pressure to say a word.

After a couple minutes of walking, you squeeze his hand and Theo glances over at you, “I’m not sure how I’m going to do this.”

He squeezes your hand back, “What do you mean?”

“Seeing them together,” You mumble. “It really hurts.”

“I’m sorry, dolcezza.” He speaks softly, wishing he had the right words to offer, some way to tell you how to get over someone. But the truth is, he’s still trying to figure it out himself.

“Will you help me get over him?” Theo's steps falter slightly at your question, his heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. He swallows, the weight of your words sinking in. 

He glances at you, unease settling in his stomach, “How exactly?” He briefly considers the fact that whatever you ask of him could maje him fall for you more. But as long as it meant you were happy.

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to the floor as you search for the right words. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… be there, I guess. Help me forget about him. Distract me.”

Theo nods slowly, his mind racing. He wants to say something, to offer more than just his presence, but he knows that pushing too hard might make things worse. Instead, he gently squeezes your hand again, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a comforting rhythm.

“I can do that,” he murmurs, his voice steady despite the nerves inside him. “I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

You offer him a small, grateful smile, and he can see the hint of sadness still lingering in your eyes. It breaks his heart, but he pushes those feelings aside. Right now, what matters is helping you heal, even if it means hiding his own growing feelings for you.

As you continue walking, Theo keeps you close, his hand never leaving yours. And though he doesn’t say it out loud, he silently vows to do whatever it takes to make you smile again, even if it means keeping his own heartache hidden in the process.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

By the time you reach your dorm, exhaustion weighs heavily on you. You’ve spent the entire day with your head down, avoiding any sight of Mattheo and Veronica. The silence between you and Mattheo feels foreign; it’s the first time you’ve gone a whole day without speaking to him, and you’re unsure if he even noticed your absence.

Unfortunately, you share several classes with both Mattheo and, evidently, Veronica. The sound of her laugh has become something you never want to hear again.

You kick off your shoes, fatigue weighing heavily on your limbs as you move towards your bed. As you pass your desk, something catches your eye—a bundle of red flowers sitting on top of your books. You pause, your curiosity piqued, and approach the desk. With a gentle touch, you lift the bundle, revealing vibrant red peonies. Their rich color stands out against the soft light filtering through the window, and their subtle, sweet fragrance fills the air.

Your eyes catch a note nestled among the flowers. You bite your lip to hide a smile as you read his messy handwriting: your name followed by a simple heart.

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌

[educatedinyellow]

A Few Recs, 2024

Hey friends, I'm just going to look through my bookmarks from this year and share a few with you for the fun of it. Not all these stories were written this year (though many were), this is more about what I was reading in 2024 :)

Below the waves, the ocean by Dorinda / @adnirod. (Patrick O'Brian novels, Jack Aubrey/Stephen Maturin, rated T, 8K, near-death experience, hurt/comfort) How long since the bubbles had died? It felt too long, a deadly eternity. But Stephen couldn't count, and didn't: he simply rolled himself over the edge of the gaping hatchway and fell. I simply love the way this author writes: the elegant prose, period details, authentic characterizations -- Stephen begins the story steeped in guilt, but the key scene centers on the perfect surrender of blind trust, and it's beautiful.

cornerstone by houndsteeth / @gracefreakdean (SPN, Destiel, rated E, 28K) I find the quiet blossoming of this romance so appealing; Cas is calm and forthright -- he can be trusted to mean what he says, and for Dean, that's a revelation. There's a wild and abundant devotion here that's worked up to in slow and ordinary ways: a leap of faith from two people who haven't worked everything out, but who choose to believe in each other. <3

Operation Friendship Helmet by @goldenraeofsun (Batman, gen, rated T, 33K, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd) When Red Hood meets Dick Grayson, he seems almost friendly, compared to the violent hostility he showed Batman and Robin. Tim sees an opportunity. Dick can work Red Hood’s human angle, while Batman and Robin do more clandestine intelligence gathering out of sight. For his part, Dick’s happy to go along with the plan and make a new friend. Maybe, if he plays his cards right, he can turn Red Hood from a crime boss to a vigilante. But the closer Dick gets, the question nags louder and louder: why does Red Hood seem so familiar? Okay, guys, I really love Dick Grayson, and this story absolutely nails his narrative voice -- earnest & funny & cheerfully unhinged in his own inimitable Batfamily way, but also at times as desperate, confused, and sad as they all were in the wake of Jason's death. And then there's Jason, bitter, jaded, and betrayed, but with a furious sense of justice, a deep kinship with the people he's trying to protect, and *extremely* mixed feelings about his former brother. This story grabbed me and would not let me go.

the way it travels in and keeps emitting light by populuxe / @x-populuxe (X-Men prequels, Charles/Erik, Erik & Raven, rated M, 30K) Charles and Erik aren’t friends: their mutual dislike was both instant and enduring, from that very first day Raven introduced them. But when Charles gets into a life-altering accident, the connections between all three of them start to fundamentally shift, too. This author writes Erik & Raven's friendship wonderfully, with nuance and charm in both its affection and its conflicts. Erik starts out profoundly irritated with every aspect of Charles, but dammit he can't just leave him alone at the hospital. What starts as a slow thaw graduates soon enough to real warmth between them, and there's a vulnerability to both of them that touches me.

I dare you to try by equestrianstatue / @justlikeeddie (SPN, Destiel, 5+1, amnesia kisses (until they aren't), rated T, 9K) Dean wrenches their mouths apart, and looks furtively up and down the street. Castiel isn’t sure what he is looking for: there is nobody here. “Okay,” says Dean, in a strange, stilted voice. “I know you don’t get how this stuff works, but rule one— don’t do that.” Five times Castiel kisses Dean, and one time Dean remembers. An elegant character study of Cas's changing perceptions of Dean, and of himself, over the years. A heartfelt story.

[schemmentisimpasours]

Welcome To Chaos

Hey y'all, I thought it was time to reintroduce myself now that I have officially revamped my Tumblr.

I am Demi your resident Chaos Wrangler. I chose my name because I am a Demisexual Demgirl Demigoddess Lesbian. And yes I am married to @justanotherboundlesssoul. We met on Tumblr. Very cute. Anyways! I go mostly by She/They and I am currently 26. My Scorpio ass will probably forget to update this so just know I am old and getting more delusional every day.

Also this is Gerald 👻. I named him years ago and he lives in the tags and will occasionally stop in ask boxes to bring some positivity to the world.

My hyperfixations are fleeting, but my love for Tumblr seems to be never-ending. I write for Abbot Elementary, SVU, Criminal Minds, 9-1-1, and Chessy. I am also working on a lot of personal writing projects that I will mention here. Currently, my requests are OPEN but honestly this may change at any time. Please check my request guidelines before yours gets thrown into internet trash never to be seen again.

Most of my work is ANGSTY AF. I admit to being an angsty Goddess, but sometimes I do write some fluff. Even Smut. All of them will be marked accordingly, so minors find your way out of the smut and to safer pastures. Also I swear a shit ton. I apologize for nothing, so if it bothers you, scroll on.

Oh and one final thing lovelies. Everything about this blog is GAY! The writing, the writer, the posts- all of it. 

Header and picture change constantly 😅 Current header from my amazing friend @derpyavocado

Some handy dandy links are below:

Masterlist, Request Guidelines, Tags, Schedule

Personal Sideblog: @changingtidesrises, NSFW Blog: @nymphdailydreams ,AO3 Homepage, Instagram: demigodringer

[mischievousmoony]

IM SQUEALING THAT WAS SO CUTEEE EEEEE 😁😁😁🥰🥰

um also you had to have been on the train with them because the dialogue between lemon and tangerine is so SPOT ON THEM i felt like it was straight from the movie

could you please do a tangerine x reader fic where reader falls asleep on him mid-mission and he just short circuits and lemon is having a field DAY because he knows what’s up 🥹🥰

Nap Time on a Bullet Train ♡ | Tangerine 𖦹°

"She fell asleep on me mid-mission, and somehow... that was more dangerous than the bloody target."

pairing : Tangerine x fem!reader

summary : A mission, a nap, and one very flustered assassin. Things get complicated—in the cutest way possible.

warnings : Mild swearing (mostly from Tangerine, never directed at reader), Light violence mentioned (off-screen, mission-related), Excessive teasing from Lemon, Tangerine being emotionally constipated and down bad, Extreme fluff and mutual pining, One (1) dangerously adorable nap on an assassin. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

della's note : THIS REQUEST WAS SO CUTE!!! I LOVE MAKING STRONG AND COLD MEN FLUSTER, ESPECIALLY WHEN HE IS FRUITY MAN!!! THANKS FOR REQUESTING LOVIE!!! Oh and btw, I tried giving him a British accent!!! Let me know if it's alright.

word count : 1.1k

navigation <3

banners : @/anitalenia and @/cafekitsune

The train rattled beneath your feet as you leaned your head back against the wall of the quiet carriage, your eyes fluttering with sleep. The mission was... dragging. No high-speed chases, no bullets (yet), just an annoyingly long wait-and-watch with Tangerine tapping his foot like it personally offended him to be this bored.

"Keep your eyes open, love," Tangerine muttered beside you, glancing over with that sharp, cockney bite that usually came with his impatience. "We're meant to be watchin’ for the bastard, not takin’ a bleedin’ siesta."

You hummed, eyes still closed. “I am watching. With my ears.”

"That’s not how that works."

But his voice wasn’t annoyed—not really. It was the voice of a man trying very, very hard not to sound like he was smiling. Which, he was. Smiling, that is. Just a little. Just when he looked at you.

You shifted your weight, and before he could process what was happening—you leaned fully against his shoulder. Soft. Warm. Peaceful.

And completely unconscious.

Tangerine froze.

Not like, cool secret agent “freeze and assess the threat” frozen. No. This was full-on system reboot. His hands hovered in mid-air like he wasn’t sure what to do with them anymore. His body went stiff as a damn lamppost. His breath stopped in his throat.

You were... asleep. On him.

On. Him.

His eyes darted around the carriage like someone might arrest him for being blessed too suddenly. And then—

“OH my god,” came Lemon’s voice from the next row, loud and gleeful as the devil himself. “No. Nooo. Don’t tell me.”

Tangerine looked up like he’d been caught downloading illegal files.

“Lemon—"

“You absolute bloody muppet, she’s sleeping on you like you’re a goddamn Disney prince. Look at you. You’re—you’re blushing!”

“I’m not f—blushin’, shut your mouth.”

Lemon leaned over the seat like a nosy aunt at a family reunion, watching with the widest grin known to man.

“You’re not even moving, mate. You’re terrified if you breathe too loud, she’ll wake up and realize she accidentally snuggled up to a human popsicle.”

Tangerine hissed, eyes darting to you, still soft and sweet and peaceful on his shoulder. A single strand of your hair tickled his neck. He tried not to combust.

“I swear to god, Lemon, you say one more word—”

“She trusts you, bruv. Like... actually. Emotionally. That’s deep.”

Tangerine’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I—we’re on a bloody mission!”

“Yeah, and she’s straight-up napping on you like you’re a Tempur-Pedic. Face it, mate. You’re the safe spot.”

The safe spot.

That... that shut him up.

Lemon watched the war on Tangerine’s face play out like a drama. Soft disbelief. Panic. Awe. Immediate emotional constipation. He even saw the moment Tangerine very gently lowered his head so it rested against yours—like a shy little tilt, just barely enough to touch.

It was so stupidly tender Lemon had to physically walk away to avoid yelling.

The train rattled on. You snored. Softly. Like a sleepy kitten.

And Tangerine—lethal, short-tempered, Gucci-clad Tangerine—sat there like someone had lit a candle in his chest and he was afraid even blinking too loud might blow it out.

He didn’t move. Not even when the target showed up three cars down. Not even when Lemon returned ten minutes later with a smug smirk and two coffees.

“I took care of him,” Lemon whispered. “Figured you had your hands full.”

“Piss off.”

“You’re welcome, lover boy.”

Tangerine just stared down at you, the edges of his heart folding inward like warm pastry.

“…She’s gonna make fun of me when she wakes up, ain’t she?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

And god help him—he couldn’t wait for it.

Your eyes blinked open slowly, the rhythmic hum of the train lulling your senses. You shifted, head still warm against—

...Wait.

What was...soft, solid...and wearing cologne that probably cost more than your entire paycheck?

You lifted your head just enough to see Tangerine, completely still, staring out the window like if he acknowledged your consciousness he might combust.

“...Did I fall asleep?” you asked, voice hoarse with sleep.

Tangerine tensed like you’d just pulled a gun on him.

“No.”

You blinked.

“I’m...pretty sure I did.”

“Well. I didn’t notice,” he said, too fast, too high-pitched. “I was watchin’ the mission. The bloody train. The—window. The clouds.”

“Inside a tunnel?”

“Right. Shadows. Very tactical shadows.”

From a few seats away, Lemon let out an audible wheeze.

You turned to him suspiciously. “...Why do you look like you’ve been holding in a laugh for an hour?”

“Oh I have.” Lemon was nearly bouncing. “You should’ve seen this prick when you nodded off. I thought he’d short out like a faulty toaster.”

Tangerine shot him a look that could've curdled milk.

“Don’t. Start.”

“Wouldn’t move, wouldn’t breathe, wouldn’t blink. Like you were a baby deer or some shit.”

You turned to Tangerine, biting back a grin. “Aw. Did I break you?”

He didn’t look at you. Couldn’t. Not with the heat burning up the back of his neck. “You didn’t break me. I’m not some soft, squishy—”

“You literally didn’t move for 20 minutes.”

“That’s strategy.”

“That’s cuddling.”

Tangerine’s mouth opened.

Then closed.

Then opened again.

He looked at you like you’d just hacked into his central nervous system and changed the language settings to “Emotional Clown.”

“I’m deadly, alright? I’m not some—some—romantic bloody pillow.”

You raised a brow, pretending to consider. “You were very comfy, though. Surprisingly warm.”

“Oh my god,” Lemon gasped, clutching his chest. “She’s teasing you. You’re done.”

“I am not done!”

You smiled sweetly at him. “You’re kinda cute when you’re flustered, y’know.”

Silence.

Absolute, devastating silence.

Tangerine blinked. Once. Twice. Then stared at the floor like it had personally betrayed him.

“I need to get off this train.”

“It’s a moving train, mate,” Lemon snorted. “Nice try.”

You reached out and gently bumped Tangerine’s shoulder with your own. His eyes flicked to yours—guarded, confused, soft.

“I trust you, you know,” you said, voice low, warm. “Even if you are grumpy and dramatic and a walking cologne bottle.”

He didn’t answer at first. His jaw flexed. Then:

“…I’m not that dramatic.”

You gave him a look.

“…Alright. A bit.”

You smiled. “You’re cute when you’re pretending not to care.”

He looked at you then—really looked. And god help him, there it was: the softness, the warmth, the genuine, maddening affection in your gaze.

He sighed, finally, the tension falling off his shoulders like rain off an umbrella.

“…Don’t fall asleep on anyone else, yeah?”

“Oh?” You tilted your head. “Jealous?”

He met your eyes with a tired little smile.

“Bloody absolutely.”

Lemon groaned in the background. “I hate you both. Genuinely. From the bottom of my heart.”

You laughed—and that was the worst part. Because the moment you laughed, Tangerine knew he was completely screwed.

And god, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[escespace]

Comment :

I was biting my nails the whole time, the intensity of Arthur's love and pain made my hair stand on end.

This type of dark is underrated in the fandom. Being as morally dark as both Arthur and Merlin can be when it comes to each other's safety it's surprising there aren't many fics with this pair falling into madness for each other

The correlation between past and present seemed very successful to me, the flashbacks appeared at just the right moments.

Is there a chance of a sequel? I would 100% read it.

Beautiful, thanks for writing it.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin) Characters: Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine (Merlin), Elyan (Merlin), Leon (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table (Merlin), Taliesin (Merlin), Gwen (Merlin) Additional Tags: Character Study, Parallel Universes, Dimension Travel, Dark Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Possessive Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Swords, Doppelganger, Flashbacks, Past Character Death, Angst Summary:

Nothing comes between Merlin and Arthur. Not even Arthur himself.

(Alternatively: A version of Arthur from a darker timeline makes his way into a different world, where things turned better than they did in his. And now, he will take the happy ending that destiny promised him then cruelly ripped away.)

[dinosaremissed]

Hey everyone!

So… I wrote my first fanfic!

It’s called The Sign of Four… Stars on Yelp — a multi-fandom fic with a Johnlock focus, featuring characters like Aziraphale, Crowley, Remus, Sirius, Blackbeard, Stede, Trina and Mendel.

There’s fake dating. There’s only one bed. There’s group therapy. There’s an alarming amount of repressed emotion. Basically, two idiots at a couples resort pretending they’re not in love. Oh and of course they're solving a murder.

It’s funny, it’s a little sad, and I’m having way too much fun writing it.

Here’s the link if you want to check it out:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64778599/chapters/166459045

[hello-its-j10]

just thought id post my fandom interests here

[full intro posted on tiktok]

edit: forgot to tag bfdi/bfdia srry

edit 2: oh also im into inanimate insanity ^^

edit 3: im not posting on tiktok anymore

[mischievousmoony]

AHH AS ALWAYS SO AMAZING BROOKE! IM OVER HERE CRYING

IN THE SHADOW OF MEMORY

CHAPTER TWO series masterlist

SUMMARY II WC: 2.1k

After the tense encounter with Theo, you’re unsettled and distracted.

WARNINGS

angst, migraines, anxiety, feelings of emptiness

AUTHORS NOTE

this is more of a filler chapter. this took many rewrites and i’m hoping this is good enough! (although this plays into deathly hollows it will not follow it. mostly used it for the room of requirement scene). thank you for all the love on the first chapter!

Thank you thank you @amiableness for reading this and listening to me stress over it all! i love you! 🤎

You sat at the Gryffindor table, staring blankly at your plate. The usual warmth of the Great Hall—its lively morning chatter and clinking dishes—felt distant, like a scene observed through a glass wall. Harry and Hermione were talking softly beside you, but their words barely registered. Your mind kept circling back to the hallway, replaying the way Theo had looked at you.

The cruel words you’d hurled at him still echoed in your mind. Theo’s eyes, filled with anger and hurt, kept flashing in your memory. You couldn’t shake the image, nor could you understand why it affected you so deeply. It was just Theodore Nott-a Slytherin you barely knew. So why did the thought of him in pain twist your insides with guilt?

“Harry, why was Nott so mad at you?” Your voice cut through their conversation, drawing startled looks from both Harry and Hermione. They exchanged a brief, tense glance.

Before Harry could respond, Ron interjected. “Doesn’t take much to set that lot off. Probably thought he looked at him funny.”

While Ron’s words had a grain of truth, they didn’t fully explain Theo’s reaction. Although Theo wasn’t innocent, you’d noticed he rarely got into fights unless provoked—though no one deserved to be hit regardless of their reasoning. Yet, with Harry involved, and given the Slytherins’ usual treatment of him, it was hard to dismiss Ron’s comment. Theo often stayed in the background, smirking as others were bullied, but he rarely got his hands dirty.

The way Theo treated the other years was something you despised, and you always stood up for the victims of Slytherin cruelty. The frustration bubbling inside you mixed with an unsettling feeling you couldn’t quite place. So you simply hummed in agreement.

Your head throbbed, a constant reminder of the earlier events of the past 24 hours. As you pushed your food around your plate, you kept glancing at the doors to the Great Hall, expecting someone or something to happen. Hermione must have noticed because she nudged you, pulling you back into the conversation.

But you didn’t catch Harry and Hermione’s silent exchange, too lost in your own thoughts. Everything felt off today, your emotions were raw, on edge. Whenever you tried to pinpoint the source of your unease, it slipped away, leaving you more confused.

It didn’t make sense. Nothing had happened to make you feel this way—at least, nothing you could recall. You’d woken up in the hospital wing with a headache and a vague sense of confusion, Theo strangely sitting nearby. But Madam Pomfrey had assured you it was nothing serious—a bump on the head, perhaps a little too much stress. As she gave you a sleeping draught to take later.

So why did it feel like something was missing? Like a piece of your heart had been taken, leaving behind a hollow space?

Harry was speaking again, his voice soft with concern, but you barely heard him. You nodded automatically, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. You just needed some fresh air, some time to clear your head. Maybe then the tightness in your chest would ease, and the world would stop closing in on you.

You excused yourself from the table, ignoring the worried glances from your friends as you slipped out of the Great Hall. The cool air in the corridor was a relief, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

But even as you walked aimlessly through the castle, the unease persisted. It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch, a sense of dread that clung to you.

You leaned your forehead against the cool glass of a window, closing your eyes. You just needed to rest, to give your mind a break. Maybe you’d take that draught soon.

As you walked into class, a wave of whispers followed you, accompanied by fleeting glances. Normally, you were used to blending in—not exactly shy, but not someone who sought the spotlight either. Today, though, it felt like everyone had something to say about you, twisting your stomach with discomfort.

You kept your head down, heading for a seat in the back, hoping to escape the attention. You set your bag on the table, pulling out your parchment and quill with slightly trembling hands. The pounding in your head was getting worse, each throb making you consider skipping the rest of your classes.

You rubbed your temples, trying to soothe the ache, so focused on your discomfort that you didn’t notice Theo slipping into the seat beside you.

When you finally looked up, your body tensed. Theo’s jaw was tight, his expression hard. You knew why—your argument had been harsh, and the guilt that had been gnawing at you all morning flared up again.

You were surprised he sat beside you, thinking he wouldn’t want anything to do with you now, especially after this morning’s exchange. Let alone being this close to anyone outside of Slytherin. But you knew you had to apologize for saying those awful words in the heat of the moment. Just as you lifted your arm to nudge him, Lavender turned in her seat, her eyes landing on you with concern.

“Hey Trouble, how are you feeling?” she asked softly, nervously glancing at Theo. “I heard you were in an accident. I was worried, but was told no visitors.”

You blinked, confusion flickering in your mind before you forced a response. “I’m… okay, I think. It must’ve been a pretty bad fall since I’ve had this migraine all day,” you tried to joke, but the weak attempt didn’t erase the worry in her eyes.

Before Lavender could say more, Theo cleared his throat, shooting her a look that made her quickly turn back to the front just as the professor began the lesson.

You struggled to focus on the lecture, as the pounding in your head intensified. You sighed in frustration, squeezing your eyes shut to block out the lights and noise. The migraine was worse than any you’d had before, leaving you anxious, wondering if there was more to your accident than you remembered.

Just as you were about to spiral into worry, you felt a subtle pressure at your side. Theo had leaned closer, his arm brushing against yours as he reached for some ink.

Normally, you would’ve tensed at the invasion of your personal space, but instead, the warmth of his presence was oddly grounding. The anxiety and pain that had been building all day eased just a fraction, allowing you to take a breath that didn’t feel so tight in your chest.

Whether intentional or not, Theo stayed close, his side pressed against yours, a silent connection that gave you a fleeting sense of calm.

As the lesson dragged on, the professor’s words blurred together, becoming an indistinct hum in the background of your thoughts. Despite Theo’s comforting presence, the tension in your body refused to fully release. You could feel his gaze on you from time to time, a mix of concern and something you couldn’t quite identify.

When the class finally ended, students began gathering their things, eager to leave. You remained seated, reluctant to move, still grappling with the persistent ache in your head and the knot of emotions in your chest. Theo didn’t make a move to leave either. Instead, he waited, his presence steady beside you.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and concerned. “Are you okay?”

You hesitated, wondering why you felt so vulnerable around Theodore of all people. “I don’t know,” you replied quietly, your voice tinged with exhaustion. “I feel like something is wrong, but I can’t quite pinpoint it.”

Theo’s eyes softened, and he slowly turned to face you fully in his chair. His hand hesitantly moved to rest on top of yours, his touch soft and anchoring. It made you feel worse, knowing you’d said such harsh things to him, and yet here he was, comforting you—someone you never expected to show this kind of care, let alone toward you.

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what had been weighing on you all day. “Theodore, I’m sorry,” you began, your voice soft but sincere. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I was scared and angry, but that doesn’t make it right. It wasn’t fair, and you didn’t deserve it.”

You could see him visibly deflate, as if your apology wasn’t what he was hoping for. But he quickly masked his emotions, sitting straighter with a blank expression.

“It’s fine,” he said your name, like it pained him to say it. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

His dejected tone caused an ache in your chest. You’d never had a one-on-one conversation with Nott until today, and it felt off.

You wanted to say something to comfort him in return, but a sharp pain in your right temple made you recoil, and Theo quickly caught you before you could fall from your chair. His touch sent another wave of warmth through you.

“Woah easier there, what’s happening?” Theo’s words cut through as you blinked, trying to focus.

“I’m fine. I think I just need some rest. I’ll see you around, Theodore. Thank you,” you murmured, gathering your things and half haphazardly shoving them into your bag. You walked out of the class, feeling his gaze on you the entire time.

The further you got to your dorm, the more uneasy you felt, your mind racing trying to grasp at something.

When you finally reached your room, you immediately collapsed onto your bed, your bag dropping with a thud as a vial rolled out.

You’d completely forgotten Madam Pomfrey had given you a sleeping draught and took it without hesitation and settled into bed, too tired to notice the faint vanilla and cigarette scent lingering.

The sleeping draught did its job, but only for a few hours. You woke up feeling empty, at least your headache had subsided. The dreams that had visited you were oddly vivid—filled with a gentle comfort and a loving presence—but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t place where they came from.

In your dream, a faceless figure held you close, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, placing delicate kisses on your shoulder. The love you felt in the dream was almost overwhelming, as if it was something you’d known for years. But every time you tried to focus on the details, a sharp jolt in the back of your head pulled you away, leaving you more confused.

You tried to fall back asleep after noticing it was well past midnight, meaning you’d missed the rest of your classes and dinner. Feeling restless, and knowing your dormmates slept like the dead—or with silencing charms—you decided to tidy up your side of the room. It was messier than you remembered.

As you gathered your clothes into a neat pile, you spotted some jumpers and hoodies you didn’t recognize. Frowning, you folded them and placed them next to your trunk, deciding to ask about them later. Then you noticed a green tie peeking out from under your bed. You sighed, assuming it was one of Grace’s latest conquests leaving their things behind, and tossed it onto her side of the room.

Once everything was in order, you turned your attention to the blank picture frames scattered across your desk. Which was odd not recalling when you bought so many. You’d just have to take some photos to fill those soon.

As you undressed for a shower, your fingers brushed against a cool metal object resting against your chest. You hadn’t noticed it before, and a sense of unease settled over you. Gently lifting it into view, you realized it was a locket—intricately detailed, with your favorite flowers etched in gold on the surface and your initials engraved on the back.

You tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Maybe it was just designed that way, you thought, but the fact that you couldn’t recall ever owning it puzzled you. Curiosity piqued, you took it off, intending to examine it later. But as soon as the chain slipped from your neck, a sudden wave of emptiness washed over you, leaving you breathless.

Without thinking, you clasped it back on, and the feeling slowly faded. You decided to leave it there, too tired to worry about it out now. You’d ask your friends about it in the morning.

After a long, hot shower, you finally climbed into bed, wishing for more dreams of the faceless figure who had brought you such a profound sense of comfort and safety.

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