#// HIII im very excited to write with you

[buddy-arc]

@paradoxeyed / continued.

his shielded violet eyes follow her every movement. this stranger is tense, and rightly so; although they were less in quantity now, there are still quite an amount of dangerous beasts that live along these twisting mountain paths. ( dangerous beasts aside from him, that is. ) Clear, sitting on a nearby boulder, leans forward slightly.

he's never seen her before, but that much can be said of a lot of people. regardless, she doesn't seem to be openly hostile to him. he appreciates that. she may be one of the few non-comodeen that he can hold a brief conversation with; as such, her sharp inquires are met with a kind smile and a friendly chuckle.

"guilty as charged. i have been watching you. i didn't want you to run into an upset admantoise, although you seem to avoid danger quite well."

the boy-like beast kicks his legs idly, tilting his head a little.

"i don't come from here, but i do live in this quiltwork of worlds. how 'bout you? do you live here?"

[reidmania]

Hiii, I’m sorry if this is super awkward, I’ve never sent a request before. (If this has been done before please ignore it). A reader who is really, really clumsy. Like walks into walls, drops everything, constantly having bruises that they dong know how they got there, and they’ve been made self conscious of being clumsy because lots of people have made fun of them? Reader falls down the stairs, or something like that, while carrying something of boyfriend!Spencer’s, maybe a gift for him or something to do with doctor who that he really likes? Like a figurine or something like that. It gets broken slightly, it can be fixed easily, but reader freaks out thinking that Spencer will be super upset and angry with them? But ofc Spencer just cares that reader is okay and not hurt?

If this is a really bad idea please ignore it, I’m not very good with ideas lol. Thanks :)

CLUTZ | spencer reid

summary; reader is shattered when they accidentally breaks the gift they got for spencer, while spencer only cares about them.

warnings; gn reader, mentions of being clumsy, crying, mentions of being insecure, mentions blood and bruises, grazes and injuries, hurt x comfort

an; you didn’t specify a gender so i just made it gender neutral i think but i saw this right before going to my birthday dinner and was ACHING to write it. this is so cute thank u so much for requesting

You think you stopped breathing.

There was a rough thumping in your chest, so you knew you were still alive — as much as you wished you weren’t in this moment — but you think you stopped breathing.

The ground held the pieces of the plastic figurine. The one you had spent waiting in line all morning for the minute Spencer said he wanted it — unfortunately he had to work so he wouldn’t be there and would likely miss out.

You wouldn’t have that when you saw how badly he wanted it.

Only in this moment you couldn’t stop thinking about how if he had been the one to get it, there wouldn’t be broken pieces of the figurine all over the floor right now.

You were making it a bigger deal in your head than what it was, it wasn’t in many pieces, the plastic head had just fallen off, but built up guilt and insecurity made its way through your veins and buried themselves right behind your eyes pushing the tears forward.

You always did this.

No matter what it was, spilling coffee on yourself, tripping up stairs or over your own feet, dropping things or walking into desks and doors. No matter what — you were constantly covered in bruises, no matter how much you tried to be careful its like your body never alined with what was in front of you.

“Baby?” You looked up from the floor where the broken figurine laid. You hadn’t realised you were in fact breathing — although it came out uneven and harsh as you struggled to calm the build of anxiety in your blood stream.

Your eyes landed on Spencer as he looked over you worryingly. Maybe you should’ve stood up from where you had tripped, landing on your knees which were now bleeding with grazes.

You had messaged Spencer to meet you outside, however you had not expected to trip over your own feet in excitement sending the figurine out of your hands and your body to the ground.

You suddenly felt the pain coursing through your legs, a small sound of pain ushered your lips as the tears lining your eyes began to cloud your vision, causing Spencer to be covered by blurry vision.

“Im sorry” You ushered out as your hands sprawled open and closed as you tried to calm yourself down but it wasn’t working. Spencer didn’t say anything for a moment as he bent down to your level, offering a hand to you.

“What happened angel?” His tone was so soft, so gentle, so sweet. The tone you couldn’t feel less deserving of. You took his hand as his other pressed gently under your other arm to help you out as his eyes scanned over your body, lips parting as his eyes settled on the blood pooling a little around the graze on your knees.

“Im so sorry — I am such an idiot! I don’t even- I was just walking, Spence Im so sorry, I know how bad you wanted this and I just completely ruined it, i ruined the entire thing and they’re all sold out I got the second last one, Im so sorry.” You rambled as hot tears fell from your eyes as you blinked, they burnt their trail down your cheeks leaving their residue aflame.

“What?” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as his eyes looked down to the floor to the figure that was in two parts. He looked back at you as his eyebrows furrow deepened. His hands gracing over your side in the gentlest touch, just allowing their comforting presence to be known. “Who cares about that— How about you come inside and I’ll clean you up yeah?” He said softly, eyes dropping back down to your knees.

“I care!! And you do!! You wanted this, Spence — And - and i wanted to do this for you. You do so much for me and I couldn’t even get you a bloody gift without completely ruining it.” You ushered out in a broken sob as your hands rose to your face to provide somewhat of a soothing sensation to your skin that felt like on the verge of ashes from the tears that grazed them — but it made no difference.

Spencer frowned as he listened to you speak, his hand paused softly on your hips before rising your face, replacing your hands with his own as he cupped your cheeks softly. “I care about you angel. I care that you are bleeding right now. I care that you are obviously in pain and you are more worried about something that we can fix” He said softly, his thumb rubbing over your cheek softly.

You didn’t say anything as you leaned into his touch instinctively. “Im sorry” You repeat gently as your hands frail by your side. The tears don’t stop but they fall more silently as they continue to fill your eyes no matter your attempt to blink them away.

He coos, “Theres nothing you have to be sorry about sweetheart. You did nothing wrong. Can we get you inside and clean you up?” He speaks so gently and softly it makes your stomach tighten and your chest clench as if someone is holding it in a death grip. — how you deserved him was beyond you.

“I always do this” You mutter, shaking your head. His hands are brushing hairs away from your face and thumbs are brushing the hot tears that fall, his hands providing a cooling sensation over the burning paths of the tears. “I suck” You laugh out, but it’s not all that funny.

He shakes his head as he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, before he leant down to pick up the figurine that landed on the floor between you and him. You watch his hands work and in moments the head is reattached, theres a little bit a scrape on the plastic of it, but nothing big.

“Easy fix honey. I love it, and don’t get me wrong I am so insanely grateful for you and that you went out of your way to get it but i’m more worried about you” He said, his hand coming to the back of your head to softly drag you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a soft hug that he knew you needed.

You bury your face in the warmth of his sweater vest, his lips kissing your hair softly repeatedly. “Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up.. Can you do that for me honey?” He almost whispered as his fingers smoothed out your hair gently.

You finally nodded into his chest as the tears subsided, your breathing came out shaking but less heavy and throaty than it was previously. His comfort providing you a the resemblance of a lifeline.

He thanked you softly as he took his hands in yours, leading you inside the figurine tight in his other hand as he looks over every few steps to make sure you were okay, he could see the pain evident in your face in every step you took and he wanted nothing more than to scoop you up and carry you to his desk but he knew you would just be embarrassed by the attention from other people looking, so instead his hand squeezed your hand gently.

Finally you relaxed against the wall of the elevator and Spencers hands were instantly tucked under your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. “Spence” You whisper out as your face goes red.

“It’s just my team, baby. Id rather you not in pain” He said softly as his hand pressed against the small of your back softly. You did nothing more than sigh in response as your head rested against his shoulder softly.

He was bringing you to his desk and placing you gently in his chair only moments later. He was on his knees in seconds, fingers searching through his draw for antiseptic wipes that he kept in there constantly for two reasons.

1, because the world was gross.

2, because you were always getting yourself hurt.

“Gonna sting baby” He said softly, hands working to peel over the individual wrapping. You felt the burn when the wipe hit the graze on your knee, a quiet wince left your lips as your face screwed up.

Spencer frowned as he leant up to the top of your knee over the skin he had just cleaned and pressed his lips softly against it, as his hand continued wiping over the graze gently. “I know darling, Im sorry.” He whispered quietly.

You let the feeling of his lips against your skin take over the pain. His hand scrambled softly back in his draw for bandages.

“Im sorry” You muttered again as he places the bandaids gently across the scarred skin. He looked up at you with eyes filled with nothing but admiration and love, the look making your stomach drop in a way you couldn’t explain if your life depended on it.

He tsked slightly, shaking his head as he pressed his lips gently over your knee again, “No apologies, cmon” He said softly as he used a new wipe to clean his hands before taking yours in his own. “It was an accident. You couldn’t control it and you have no reason to apologise for it, as long as you are okay, I don’t care about anything else” He spoke clearly with so much intent you felt in piece through the insecurity that build up your body.

He leant up to place a gently kiss on your lips. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, once his lips separated from yours he stood up properly, hands remaining in yours as his thumb rubbed over the soft skin on the back of your hair softly.

You wondered how he put up with it, how he put up with you — but then he would looked at you with eyes full of admiration and his hands would graze your skin so softly as if you were something so delicate. He would talk to you as if his entire world depended on protecting you, and then there was no room for insecurity or doubt in your mind when it was all too consumed with him.

“Im okay.”

[revasserium]

hiii i'm a new follower and i love your writing so much

ik u said no requests in ur bio but i just finished reading ur sanji fic.. so even if ur still not taking requests i'd just like to throw in an idea that u may or may not feel like using in the future, up to you (i'm requesting this with opla sanji in mind but if u wanna use it for zoro that's cool too)

k so imagine reader being invited to a friend's wedding, & being excited to go until they find out their ex is coming too (with their partner of some amt of yrs). so now reader is pressured to bring someone w/ them & ends up asking their best friend sanji bc they don't want others thinking they're still hung up on the past.

wedding dress

opla!sanji; 6,544 words, pining with a happy ending, fluff and a tad of angst, flirting, lovesick!sanji, whipped!!!!sanji, no "y/n", zeff is a whole mood, confessions, sanji-appropriate nickname usage, modern!au?

summary: you invite sanji to be your plus 1 at a wedding

a/n: im so sorry this took so long. but. better late than? never? also, there is a tiny bit of rehashing for ep 6 of the live action for sanji and zeff's relationship so... spoilers?

It’s a chilly, overcast kind of day when the call comes in. And in retrospect, Sanji thinks he should’ve known better when he’d seen your name on the caller ID. He’d hesitated, because by god if it wasn’t his New Year's Resolution to get the hell over you this year, but it’s almost December again and he still can’t help the way his heart races at the sound of your voice.

“Hey sweetheart — long time no talk!” he answers after a brief moment of contemplating his entire life, dusting his flour-covered hands on his apron.

“Hey! Sorry for calling so… out of the blue…” your voice is still as sweet as ever, and the way his stomach twists at the tinkle of your nervous laughter makes him want to kick himself. Still, he forces himself to stay calm, clearing his throat as he checks the oven — it’s almost done pre-heating.

“Now you know what I said about actin’ a stranger — just because you moved halfway across the entire world doesn’t mean we ain’t best friends anymore, right?”

It’s what you’d said when he’d been standing at the airport, three seconds from dropping to his knees and begging you not to go. But he hadn’t, because he knew how hard you’d worked for this — for this opportunity abroad, to study art in the birthplace of the Renaissance itself, in the heart of Italy.

“And… you might be able to come visit me, right?” you’d said, rocking on the balls of your feet, your eyes full of what Sanji could only call false hope — which is always, always the worst and most painful kind.

Sanji had swallowed and nodded and said something or other about Europe and fine dining, but there’s a terrible, prickling heat eating up the back of his neck and a voice that’s screaming at him to pull you to him and kiss you. He doesn’t. And he regrets it to this day.

“Ah — right��� I’m actually calling because… I’ll be in the area in about a week and…”

Your voice pulls him out of his reverie and he clears his throat, hitches a smile to his face that he knows you can’t see but he’s sure you can hear.

“Oh! That’s great, darling! You’ve gotta come for a drink, I’ll whip up all your favorites — we can make a night —”

“It’s actually for a wedding.”

There are a few moments in everyone’s lives when they learn the true meaning of a thing for the very first time — elation, pride, stomach-twisting guilt, and… fear. True fear, the kind of fear that shakes the muscle from your bones and sends them tingling, threatens to overwhelm you with numbness. Fear, that pushes adrenaline through you like a drug, forces the world into a terrifying, all-consuming focus.

Sanji feels the fear coursing through him, wild and contentious at your words.

A wedding.

Your wedding? Perhaps?

He can’t bear to think of it; he’s so terrified he can barely breathe.

Then comes the moment after, the wave of everything else that the fear had washed away — confusion, anger, guilt (always guilt, for some reason), because isn’t he supposed to be happy for you? For you, the person he loves most in this entire world, to find love, to know happiness. He should. He should.

“Oh.”

Sanji sags back against the hard, metal counter. Almost mindlessly, he reaches into his pockets with shaking hands, digging around for a smoke.

Your breath is soft in his ear, too far across the phone line and a thousand miles of ocean.

“I originally wasn’t even planning on going — she’s not a very close friend — we had like one class together but —”

And within the span of a minute, Sanji also learns relief. The kind that melts the world around you into sizzling butter and champagne bubbles. The kind that makes you want to lie down on the ground and scream.

“— it was so close to your restaurant so I said yes but I didn’t know he was gonna be there and —”

You’re still talking, rambling like you do. And it takes nearly everything inside Sanji to pull himself back to the conversation.

“Sorry, love, who did you say was gonna be there?”

“My ex — you know the one —”

Sanji grimaces, flicking on his lighter with still-shaking fingers.

“Mm, yeah I do. The tall, dark-haired bastard who —”

“Yeah well — he’s gonna be there too and I just —” he hears you swallow hard and take a long, steadying breath. An unnameable something is calcifying in the depths of his stomach as he waits for you to collect yourself.

Curiosity? Why had you called like this, so suddenly, about a wedding where your ex was going to be? Concern? Were you thinking of going back to him?

But slowly, as you stutter through your next few words, the unnameable thing obtains a name — dread.

“— I just don’t think I could do it myself, y’know? And — and you were the one who got me out of it wh-when I decided to break it off with him so…”

Sanji takes a long drag of his cigarette and casts his eyes up at the high, white-slabbed ceiling of the kitchen, scored with long strips of bright, fluorescent lighting that floods the entire room in a direct, unforgiving glow.

He closes his eyes and counts to three.

“Course I’ll come with you, darlin’. It —” he wets his lips, taps off a bit of ash from his cigarette, and sucks in through his nose, clearing his throat of the words still lodged there, “— it’d be my honor.”

Relief — he hears it in your voice, and by gods he can almost see it — the way your whole face would light up, washed as if by the setting sun, your eyes wide and dark, your cheeks flushing his favorite fucking shade of pink and —

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really owe you for this one —”

Sanji makes a valiant effort at a nonchalant chuckle; it comes out sounding like a dog with a bit of bone stuck in its throat instead.

“Nonsense — what are best friends for, anyway?”

There’s a tiny pause where Sanji can feel the words best friend scraping along the insides of his mouth, barbed and harsh, leaving his tongue feeling raw and metallic.

“You really are the best friend anyone could ask for,” your voice is soft and honest and Sanji wants nothing more than to chuck his phone into the industrial blender.

You tell him that you’ll send him the details, that you can’t wait to see him soon, that you’ve got a world and a half of catching up to do, that you’ll buy him so, so many drinks, and that you’ll come bearing presents. He laughs at the right times, makes soft noises of consent and agreement, and when finally, finally you tell him goodbye, he clicks off the phone and takes another long drag of his smoke.

And then, he whips his hand back and throws the cigarette butt into the large sink, where it tinks against the metal and sizzles sadly in the murky dishwater.

“Real sucker for punishment, aren’tcha, lil’ eggplant?”

Sanji groans, turning around to find Zeff with his arms folded, the hip to his bad leg propped against a counter.

“Will you fuck kindly off — can’t you see I’m going through a thing here?”

Zeff snorts, clunking unevenly towards him.

“You been going through that thing for the last year and a half since you chickened outta askin’ her to stay so —”

“I didn’t chicken out — I — it was her dream to go to Florence and study —”

“And what was your dream then, ey?”

Sanji bangs his palm against the counter and sighs, “It’s not like I could leave you here with —”

“With what? A thriving restaurant business that I started? A guest list out the door and round the corner —”

“I — I helped!”

Zeff rolls his eyes, “Ah sure ya did, but I never asked you to, did I?”

Sanji huffs, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop the torrent of horrible, sad, acrid things he could say and could never mean, so he swallows them back down. When he looks up next, Zeff is still standing there, but there’s a softness around his eyes.

He opens his mouth a few times, but eventually, all he says is, “The oven’s over heatin’.”

Sanji swears and jumps up to tug open the oven door. A wave of hot air whooshes out and nearly catches him in the face. Behind him, he can hear Zeff’s dark, gravelly chuckle, and the dull clunk of his wooden leg.

“You burn the kitchen down, you pay for it.”

And then he’s gone again, leaving the door swinging behind him, and Sanji very much alone with the too-hot oven and a counter full of things he can’t really remember the recipes for anymore.

Nearly a week later, Sanji finds himself standing at the airport, rocking on the balls of his feet, nearly in the exact same place as he’d been a year and a half prior. Except this time, you’re not walking away from him. You’re walking back towards him. He wonders if there’s a name for deja-vu in reverse and comes to the realization that that’s just called… a memory.

And memory seems to work in strange ways now, images superimposing themselves on top of one another — the flicker of a film lens, the bat of an eyelash, the shadow of a smile crimping the corner of your lips. All of this, he sees in the here and now, but he sees it in the air around you too, shimmering and mirage-like — all his memories and dreams of you layered over the shape of you. Your memory like a ghost of itself, trailing behind you as you walk towards him, a shy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed from travel and the cold and —

He doesn’t let himself hope. Not this time.

“Hey!” your voice is just as bell-like as he remembers it, pitched a little higher than it usually is, probably out of nervousness. But it still feels like a kick to the guts. Sanji forces himself to smile.

“Hi, love,” he says, leaning down as you reach him, but the motion aborts halfway because — is it still appropriate to hug you like he’d always done? To press his lips to your cheek or your hairline and revel in the bright citrus of your shampoo, to soak in the butter and cream of your skin like he used to?

There’s an awkward half-second pause before you’re standing up on tip-toe and Sanji’s heart nearly drops out of his ass as you lean in. But then — your lips skim by his cheek and your arms are around him, and stupid, stupid, stupid heart — thundering in his chest like horses or hooves or fists or thumping rabbit’s feet — leaping into his throat and pattering against the base of his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. But it’s not close enough. It’s never close enough.

He breathes and distantly, a part of him notes that you still use the same shampoo.

“Hi…” your voice is warm by his ear, a bit muffled, but he can’t help the way it makes him shiver, “It’s… so good to see you.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice to do the normal thing and, oh, you know — work.

“I’ve — I’ve missed you.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough as he nods again. He feels your arms slackening around him and a fierce, terrifying thing is flapping its wings in his stomach, screeching at him not to let you go. But he does — like he did before.

“I — I missed you too,” he says, though his voice sounds flat and scratchy and he clears his throat again.

A dozen different expressions flicker across the lovely planes of your face and finally, it settles on endeared exasperation.

“Please don’t tell me you still work through like three packs of smokes a day.”

Sanji laughs then, shaking his head as he reaches over for your luggage, “Nah — well, maybe not three but —”

You whack him softly on the arm.

“I actually tried to quit right after you left.”

“You did?”

Sanji shrugs as the pair of you start to make for the exit. He feels your gaze go slanted and shrewd.

“How long’d that last?”

He smirks, “Few hours.”

You whack him again and this time, he dodges out of the way just to bask in the bright spark of your laughter as you chase after him.

“Seriously though, you know how terrible they are for you!”

“Sure do,” he says, tugging one out of his pocket as soon as he clears the airport doors, pivoting left towards the parking garage. You have to jog to keep up with his longer strides, your breaths misting the air between you in silvery puffs.

He makes no move to light it as he helps toss your luggage into the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. You huff as you wiggle into the passenger’s side.

“Then why —”

Sanji waits patiently for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting soft against the middle console. He slates you a glance.

“Cause,” he says, fixing his eyes back on the road, an easy smirk twisting his lips, “it’s a metaphor.”

You groan, sinking into the seat, “Just because you read John Green one time —”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I read his entire bibliography after you showed him to me.”

“Ugh, whatever you manic-pixie-dreamgirl-loving ass.”

“Yeah, whatever — you actual manic pixie dreamgirl.”

You smile and Sanji allows himself the brief and aching delusion that the past year and a half didn’t happen, that you never left, and that you’d never leave. That you’d always be here, warm and laughing and just within reach.

The rest of the car ride is spent in mundane conversation, in how was your flight and tell me about Florence and how’s Zeff doing these days and I wanna know about your latest dish. It’s light and easy, and Sanji lets it warm the air around him. By the time he pulls into the front of your hotel, all the unsaid words from the past year and a half have soaked through his socks and into his shoes. It sloshes out onto the pale pavement as he opens the car door.

He helps you roll your luggage up into the lobby and tells you he’ll be here at 3PM to pick you up tomorrow. The venue’s just three blocks away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” you say, pursing your lips, waving as he backpedals towards the automatic doors.

“You’ve still gotta send me pictures of the dress you’re wearing — I gotta find a matching tie.”

You laugh, a bit embarrassed, “Right — and here I thought I might surprise you.”

Sanji freezes, eyes wide.

“O-oh! Er — well, you can just — just tell me what color or —” he waves vaguely, “send a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against —”

You nod, eyes glittering, eager once more, “Oh! That’s a good idea — I’ll do that.”

“Great,” Sanji says.

“Great!” you echo, perhaps a bit too chipper.

He gives you one last smile before turning and striding from the hotel, firing up the engine as calmly as he can, forcing himself not to turn and check if you’re still watching him through the brightly lit, sliding glass doors. He allows himself a glance through the rear-view mirror as he pulls away from the drive and his heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re still standing there, right in the middle of the lobby, fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, your eyes fixed on the shadow of his retreating car.

He lights the smoke the second he turns the corner, your shadow no longer in his rear-view mirror.

That night, Sanji dreams in fits and leaps, flashing images and long, sticky streams of could-have-beens —

He dreams of your laughter in a white-tiled kitchen, of powdered sugar and eggshells cracked and leaking on an exposed wood counter, chopsticks clinking against a thick glass mixing bowl. He dreams of your voice echoing off the shower tiles as you sing off-key, the way you used to when you’d sneak into his college dorm for movie night and a midnight snack. He dreams of coffee mugs and errant rose petals and dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. He dreams of dancing with you in his arms in a darkened dorm room that morphs into a bigger room with a softer carpet, one that he’d never seen before but he knows implicitly (like bodies know) is his home — it has pictures on the walls, trinkets lining the far bookshelf, your favorite scarf draped over the back of the well-worn sofa.

In the dream, you pull your head back from where it's pillowed against his shoulder and smile up at him. He leans down to kiss you, his lips hovering half an inch from yours.

Sanji jerks awake to the sound of his alarm, fingers fumbling for his phone, groaning as he smashes the orange snooze button and flips over to bury his face back into his lumpy pillow.

“Ah… fuck.”

It’s not the first time he’s had that dream, and he knows it won’t be the last. But it’d been so real that night, real enough to make him wonder if it just might come true.

He rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes and peers blearily at all the notifications on his screen. There’s a text from you with a picture attached. He clicks it open to find a short message attached to the picture — I really did want to surprise you…

He blinks for three seconds at what looks like a blurry picture of studded black silk before he remembers —

“Send me a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against.”

He allows himself a laugh, swinging his feet out of bed even as he types back — you coulda just told me it was black…

He watches the three little dots appear and disappear a few times, chewing on his bottom lip, before the text appears — well there are different shades of black, right???

Sanji laughs, shaking his head.

sure there are.

A string of tongue-out emojis, followed by an equally long string of middle-finger emojis.

He spends the rest of the morning fussing over which specific black tie to wear before settling on one that he’s quite sure is the exact same shade of black as your dress (and yes, he does have quite the collection of black ties), before tugging his best suit out to press.

It shouldn’t feel so easy, slipping back into the rhythm of things, of texting and smiling and hearing your voice in his head when he reads your texts. It shouldn’t feel so easy to forget the months of radio silence and guilt, the oppressive, resonant weight of what might have been if either of you had done a single thing different that day at the airport — he wonders if he should’ve reached for your hand, he wonders if you’d ever looked back.

He hadn’t. He couldn’t let himself.

He is waiting for you in the lobby at 2:45, wearing a hole into the plush Persian carpet, collecting strained looks from the concierge who had assured him three times in the last four minutes that he’d already rung up to your room and that you’d said you were on your way.

“Wow, you’re early — sorry I took a while — I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hair and —“

Sanji lifts his head and thinks distantly that all those rom-com cliches of a guy looking up, time itself slackening, the room smearing sideways around him, the music going slow, the lighting soft — all of it is painfully, startlingly true after all.

Because there you are, walking towards him, still saying something, but he can’t make out the words anymore because time isn’t really a thing anymore, is it? He can’t focus on that and also the dark glimmer of your dress, the way the neckline skates just beneath your collarbones, barely skimming the skin there before it slips down along the slope of your shoulders in a way that makes his breath unspool inside his chest like loose threads.

And in the slanted, ethereal light of the winter afternoon, your dress looks like it’s cut from a swath of darkest midnight, moonless and scattered with stars.

You blush as Sanji attempts to pick his jaw up off the floor and hitch his lips into something resembling a smile.

“W-wow… you look…”

Your smile is shy as you press your palms against the dress, looking down, “Thanks… you don’t think it’s… too much?”

Sanji shakes his head, feeling dazed.

“No! I mean — it’s —“ his mouth is dry, drier than he ever remembers it being, and suddenly it’s very hard to swallow and Sanji isn’t even sure the muscles in his neck know how to perform the action, let alone force words out alongside it. He struggles for another few seconds, his jaw working furiously as his eyes skitter down and back up the shape of you.

“You look… perfect,” he says, finally, because the word has been ricocheting around his chest like a stray bullet and he had to let it out somehow.

“Thanks — you don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, your voice breathy in a way that makes Sanji’s stomach squeeze.

He offers you his arm, and you glide forward to take it.

He drives the three blocks to the wedding venue in a daze, his mind spinning slow and off-axis, tilted so by the gentle waft of your perfume, the lullaby of your voice as you chatter nervously about this and that and the weather, I mean, can you believe it’s gonna be an outdoor wedding in the winter? He wonders briefly why you’re so nervous, and then he’s reminded of the reason he’s even here at all — your ex will be here. Ah. Right.

“Ready?” he asks, offering you his arm again as the both of you follow the meandering stream of arriving guests toward the paved outdoor garden area where the ceremony is due to take place.

“No, but… you’re here so…” you let out a breath and for a second, Sanji almost thinks he hears the hint of an ache in your voice. An ache like an old scab picked at too many times, like unrequited love, perhaps. It’s an ache with which Sanji is so intimately familiar that he immediately tamps it down and vows not to think about it again for the rest of the night.

There are stiff-backed waiters wandering around with plates of hors d’oeuvres and thin flutes of bubbling pink champagne.

Sanji grabs two glasses and hands you one.

“Cheers, then.”

“Bottoms up,” you say, tossing back the entire flute in one.

Sanji cocks his eyebrows, grinning as he follows suit, smacking his lips.

“Alright then, I guess if that’s how you’re playin’ —”

Your laughter is light, if a little strained, but he remembers how quickly bubbly drinks tend to go to your head and makes a concerted effort to slow down. You make it all the way through the actual ceremony without bumping into your ex, though you do lean over and grab Sanji’s hand as the bride and groom exchange vows — something about love being a choice, one that they promise to make every morning of every day for the rest of their lives — and he looks over to find you misty-eyed, bottom lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sap,” he whispers, leaning over. It earns him a choked laugh and a half-hearted elbow in the ribs, but it’s worth it to see the tension melt from your shoulders.

Sanji turns back towards the bride and groom, exchanging rings now, and unbidden comes the images of you and him standing where they are — you in a dazzling white gown, him still in a dark suit, but one perhaps of more expensive material and much better tailoring. He thinks about all the things he might promise you, wonders at what you might promise him in return —

“I promise to love and cherish you —” you might say.

“I promise to make all your favorite foods,” he might say.

“I promise not to touch your emotional support le creuset pans.”

“I promise not to make you taste all my experimental dishes —”

“Okay, but what if I want to —”

He imagines the way the crowd would titter, how the officiator would affectionately clear his throat. He imagines Zeff’s warm, well-worn laughter, rough and a little torn at the edges because he’s just as sentimental as the next guy behind all the beard and gruffness. He imagines the crowd smiling up at the pair of you, the way you’d squeeze his hands to get the both of you back on track —

He jerks out of his reverie as you tug your hand away from his to clap, and it takes him a beat to realize that everyone else is clapping and cheering too. He blinks — the bride and groom are kissing, pulling apart as the music swells around them and they link hands to walk back down the aisle.

Sanji clears his throat and hurriedly gets up to clap as well, his eyes trailing the radiant smiles on both the newlyweds’ faces. Another sharp ache sings through him but he feels your hand in his again and he can’t tell if he wants to grip you tighter or pull away. They’d both hurt just as much, wouldn’t they?

“C’mon, let’s get inside — I wanna judge the catering with you,” you whisper, your breath tickling his cheek, and he knows without having to look that you’re standing on your tiptoes, your chin almost propped on his shoulder.

He fights down a bout of shivers and smiles, “My favorite part of any formal event, honestly.”

You laugh, “I know — me too.”

So you spend the entire dinner service whispering to each other about the food —

“God, this steak is so well done I think it just might dislocate my jaw —”

“What’s in this sauce?”

Sanji chews thoughtfully before making a face, “Dunno, but it’s got oregano.”

“Oh the cake looks good though.”

“Yeah, but we both know how much sugar and butter goes into that right?”

You nudge him with an elbow, “Weird, cause I’m pretty sure happiness is also made of sugar and butter.”

“Well for me, it’s always been…” but Sanji trails off, biting his tongue. No. He can’t say that — not now. Not here.

Because for him, happiness has always just been you.

So instead, he swallows passed his own mouthful of regrets and attempts a lopsided grin. And thankfully, your attention is drawn elsewhere by a loud peal of laughter before he has to make a shitty joke about happiness being a well-lit kitchen and a gas-lit stove.

You’re both at least a bottle of champagne deep when it finally happens, inevitable as a summer storm — your ex saunters up to you on the dance floor, sporting a grease-slick grin, eyeing you up and down like a piece of well-cut meat. Sanji is at the bar, grabbing more drinks and you’re catching a breath of fresh air just outside the dance hall.

“Well, well, well — look who it is.”

Sanji turns sharply at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing — Asshat. Fantastic. The bartender is putting the finishing touches on two custom cocktails but blinks, confused, as Sanji swipes both drinks out from the bar and casts him a hurried grin.

“Thanks mate, these look great,” Sanji raises the cocktail glasses at the bewildered bartender before hurrying off, slowing ever so slightly as he reaches you, straightening his spine and smoothing out his shoulders.

“Here, got them special-made for you,” he says, pressing the cocktail into your hand, cutting into something that Asshat is saying.

“Oh! Thanks — oh wow, this looks so good!” you beam up at him, taking a sip.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you were still hangin’ out with this guy,” Asshat says, hooking his thumbs into his belt-hoops and jutting out his chin.

You frown, pressing your lips, “Excuse me?”

Asshat scoffs, posturing, “I mean, when we broke up, it was cause o’him right? So I just thought you might’ve realized what a mistake that was and —”

Sanji barely has the time to feel offended before Asshat is gasping and stumbling back. You’d tossed the remainder of your drink straight into his face.

“What the —” Asshat sputters, his fists clenching, but quick as anything, Sanji swipes out a leg that catches him right in the shins and makes him stumble. In one fluid movement, Sanji pushes his own drink into your hand before reaching out the other arm to steady the now flailing Asshat, catching him around the shoulders.

“Whoa there! Seems like you’ve had a bit too much to drink, my friend!” he says, loud enough for the people around you to hear. He thumps Asshat on the back in a would-be kind gesture before tugging him close, still coughing, and hissing in his ear —

“Listen here, you asswipe — you’re gonna turn around and walk away and stay the fuck away from us for the rest of this wedding, you understand? I’ve got plenty more o’this for ya if you don’t, got it?”

Sanji scuffs his foot along the gravel-covered ground in a motion that could easily be mistaken as fidgeting, but you know better. And so, it seems, does Asshat, who scoffs and shoves Sanji off him with a glare, but after another second, straightens his drink-soaked jacket, turns, and stalks away.

You let out a long breath, swallowing hard.

“Hey darlin’… you alright?” Sanji turns and bends down to level his eyes with yours.

“Y-yeah — thanks — you didn’t need to —”

“Nah. Course I did — it’s why you invited me, right?” he allows himself a lopsided grin that borders on self-deprecating and you look up, eyes wide.

“No! I — that’s not —”

“It’s okay, love — I promise I’m not offended —” Sanji’s babbling, he knows he is — but he has to, because the alternative of letting you speak, of letting you confirm what he already knows to be true (that you’ve only ever seen him as a best friend, that you love him in all the ways except for the one way he wants you to, in the one way he loves you) is too much. He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs up his shoulders, pulling them up towards his ears like armor.

And then you lean in and kiss him, and every single word he’s ever thought of saying just to fill the silence turns to mist and mornings on his tongue. His mind turns blissfully blank and when he regains consciousness (or has he? Because isn’t this the dream he’s dreamt every waking moment of his life for the past… however many years?), he thanks every god he can name that he feels his fingers in your hair, his other hand cupping the soft curve of your jaw. He tastes your uncertainty against his lips and presses in, hoping, praying that if he just kissed you hard enough you might understand.

When you pull away, he can’t help the satisfied purr that curls up his chest at the pinkness in your cheeks and the slightly glazed-over look in your eyes.

“O-oh — sorry I —”

Sanji shakes his head, leaning in to push his forehead against yours.

“Nah, nah, nah — if you tell me that was a mistake now I might just turn around and never speak to you ever again — because don’t you dare —”

You let out a helpless laugh, shaking your head as you reach up to cover his hands with yours. It’s only then that he realizes they’d been shaking. He swallows and he thinks he can taste every single morning after for the rest of his goddamn life in the whisper of your breath.

“It — it’s not, I wasn’t —” you close your eyes and Sanji holds you still, foreheads still pressed. Distantly, Sanji is aware that people are cheering, that more drinks are being poured, that the dance floor is probably a mess. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he’ll care about anything else ever again — why would he? Now that he’s got you.

“Shh… take your time, love… we’ve got all the time in the world.”

He feels the relief take you, and then you’re falling into him, burying your face in the lapel of his suit jacket, probably smearing it with your foundation. Vaguely, Sanji considers framing it when he gets home.

“I’m… I’m sorry it took so long — I’m sorry I didn’t — that I wasn’t…” you curl your fist into the material of his shirt and thump him lightly on the chest, even as he laughs and wraps his arms around you.

“I know, darlin’… I know.” Sanji presses his lips into your hair and can’t help a smile.

Finally. Finally.

Your hair smells like citrus shampoo.

Finally.

“I thought about you every single day,” you admit, your voice small when you finally pull back to look at him again. He thinks there might be tears in your eyes, or maybe it’s just the starlight caught in the thick night sky of your lashes.

“Did you now?” he asks, fumbling for some semblance of normalcy amidst this night of revelations.

You nod, fervently, and god he wants to kiss you again. Briefly, he wonders if he should, if he’s allowed to now. Instead, he smiles and cocks his head.

“So? What changed?” and he can’t help the tiny note of hurt out of his voice, the slightest shiver of disbelief. After all, cynicism is a hard habit to break.

Especially after so many years of practice.

You shrug, sighing, “Nothing — everything. I mean — I’d always… but then I thought — you had your career as a chef and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life. But it —” you lick your lips, and Sanji nearly breaks when you tear your eyes away from his. He wants to force you back, to soak in the dark and bright of your gaze till he can see the world exactly as you see it.

“It’s always been you…” you say.

At this, Sanji does break. He tips your face towards him with a thumb and a forefinger and leans in, waiting for you to pull back, bracing for it. But you don’t — instead, you press in and close the space between you again, and again, and then again.

He wants to tell you — he needs to tell you that it’s always been you too, that there’s never been anyone else. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he’s known, even though both of you were children back then, and neither of you had any idea what “love” actually meant. He knew then, too.

“Love…” his voice trails off, but you smile, and he knows you know, knows that you can hear it in the rawness behind his voice, in the softness of his breath, in the way it shakes.

You make to kiss him again. But your lips hover half an inch from his and you stop. Sanji sighs.

“What — why’d you stop?”

Your smile is sweet and sharp, honey glinting on a razor’s edge, and he knows that he has you. And maybe that he’s always had you and was just too blind, too terrified, to see it.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s a metaphor.”

Sanji groans, “Fuck your metaphors.”

You bat your lashes, pulling an expression of mock affront onto your face.

“Well at least wine me and dine me first —”

Sanji licks his lips, “What’dyou think I’ve been trying to do for the last ten years?”

Your breath catches.

“Oh.”

Sanji smirks and kisses you again, slowly this time, languid and deep. Unhurried. He luxuriates in the way you go soft in his arms, in the way he can feel the gentle hitch of your breath as he runs his tongue along the edges of your teeth, coaxing you towards him, closer and closer and closer.

The hardest, angriest part of him wants to swallow you whole, bite down just to hear you hiss, to taste your blood on his tongue. To make you feel even a sliver of the pain he’d felt. He tamps it back down — there’s time for that later.

Instead, he forces himself to pull back and allows himself the satisfaction of watching you chase him, pursing your own lips with a bashful look away, your cheeks dark.

“So,” Sanji takes half a step back, puffing out his chest in the best imitation of a fuckboy at a wedding party, “wanna get outta here?”

You let out a helpless laugh, falling into his side. He lets the sound ring through him like so many silver bells.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He chuckles, looping an arm around your middle and leaning towards your ear.

“Your place, or mine?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure I still have a toothbrush at your place.”

Sanji hums, “You still have a whole drawer at my place.”

You smile up at him, open and happy and sincere, “Then… I guess that’s your answer then.”

[m-musings]

HIII

im actually so excited omg i dont wanna sound mean actually the opposite but you write for a couple of pretty dead fandoms and im just so happy to see new writers for them.

can i request hcs for rotg (either jack frost, or bunnymund, or pitch, whoever you like. maybe the three of them??? idk go nuts show nuts) with a grim reaper reader? thanks! :D

Headcanons: Jack Frost, Pitch Black and E. Aster Bunnymund with Grim Reaper! Reader

A/N: anon I'm dying at go nuts show nuts, that's the funniest shit i've read in a while but anyways yeah, all 3 sounds good to me lmao. also, I wasn't sure if you wanted platonic or romantic so i just kept it on the friendly side, i hope that's okay!

NOTICE (7/10/24) : NO LONGER WRITING FOR ROTG

Word Count: 450 Warnings: mentions of death/ dead people

Jack:

Jack is a bit wary around you at first simply due to the nature of your job.

But once he sees just how gentle and kind you are with the souls you reap, he's back on board with getting to know you.

As he gets more comfortable with you, he'll definitely make fun of you like he does with the other guardians but he does it with love!

Jack will occasionally accompany you when you're reaping a younger soul. His presence seems to calm them down if they begin to panic, even if they sometimes can't see him.

If you ever get a break from reaping, he will invite you to participate in one of his famous snow day snowball fights as a way to forget about the sadness that sometimes comes with the responsibility of being a being of death.

He's still the excitable and reckless Jack Frost but when you're around, he's more mellowed out and - forgive the pun- chill to hang out with.

Pitch:

Pitch is intrigued by you from the start.

While he may control people's fears, it is a rare occasion for him to actually interact with one, let alone one as important as the personification of death itself.

He knows just how powerful a reaper can be so he is always sure to treat you with the respect you deserve.

The one time Pitch tried to convince you to join him against the Guardians, it ended with a scythe pointed at his neck and a stern scolding from you, so he doesn't bring that subject up around you anymore.

Pitch actually enjoys spending time with you though, he feels that your presence is much more tranquil and calm than that of the other spirits he knows.

He can be maniacal and full of himself but deep down he has a strange admiration for you and the job you do.

Bunnymund:

Bunny has known you for a long time and has come to highly regard you as an ally.

You two mesh well together, because without the deaths you take watch of, he wouldn't be able to help bring new bouts of life into the world.

He refuses to see any of the souls you may bring around The Warren though, it makes him kind of squeamish.

He will occasionally help you wrangle up a lost soul or two but it's very uncommon for him to be around during the actual reaping.

Bunnymund and you do spend the most time together just because your roles are so interconnected with one another (Guardians of Life and Death and all that).

All in all, You and Bunny are very close knit and have a great respect for one another.

[stayxlix]

Ok ok so feel free to bend and change this request to your liking. I been asking some of my favorite writers to try this request to see what they can come up with and I’m excited to see what you can do with this.

I was wondering if I can request a Felix story. Where y/n is dating hyunjin felix best friend and Felix at the beginning feels really guilty for liking her so much and always thinking about her. And one time when hyunjin leaves the reader and Felix alone, Felix snaps and kisses her which kinda freaks her out so he has no choice but to kidnap her because of his own jealousy and want. It’s a yandere type of story. If you don’t feel comfortable writing something that I request you can totally bend the story to your liking to feel more comfortable. Thank you ❤️

a/n: hiii<33 here it is FINALLY!!! i have to admit a yandere concept is something i had never thought about writing myself but im so happy you requested this type of concept because stepping out of my comfort zone is something i really enjoy, and i did take your input to shape the story in a way that felt comfortable for me.<3 im so thankful that you chose to trust me with your request, and that you consider me one of your favorite writers.🤗💕i really hope it lives up to expectations.🤭 (also i apologize in advance for the abrupt ending, that is the part i struggled with most so please forgive me for the massive cliffhanger🥹).

wc: 3.8k

pairing: yandere!felix x reader (f), hyunjin x reader (f)

warnings: yandere themes, obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, male masturbation, 18+ **minors do not interact**, please lmk if i missed any!!

The moment you stepped into Felix's life, it was as if a match had been struck in a dry forest, setting off a wildfire of emotions. From the very first time he’d laid eyes on you, Felix felt the heat of that blaze ripping through his soul. And if only you had taken the time to look—really look—into those deceptively innocent brown eyes, you might just have been able to see the flames raging behind them before it was too late.

Felix was a good friend. A loyal friend.

As a result of his tendency to put his friends first, he often found himself dragged into situations he had no desire to be a part of.

And tonight was no exception.

Tucked away in a corner underneath the dim, multi-colored lights of a crowded party, Felix stood nursing a half-empty cup of stale beer that had long lost its appeal. Boredom gnawed at him, urging him to leave, yet he lingered. His eyes darted to the entrance every so often with the desperate hope that Hyunjin—the sole reason he had even chosen to attend the party at all—would be next to walk through.

But as the minutes dragged on without any sign of his best friend, Felix's frustration grew. The obnoxious music was far too loud, the alcohol not nearly strong enough to dull the disappointment of the evening, so Felix huffed out a sigh as he reached for his phone. Bypassing his earlier unanswered messages to Hyunjin, he typed out one final message to let his best friend know that he was calling it a night and would meet him back at their shared apartment.

After pressing send and shoving his phone back into his pocket, Felix pushed off the wall. Tossing the cup into the nearest trash, he turned toward the exit. But before he could take a single step further, before his foot had even hit the ground, he was gripped by a sudden shift in the atmosphere—a change that swept through the room. Through Felix.

The door swung open and in the split second that followed, the party around him was dulled into nothing but a distant hum. To say that Felix was captivated by the figure that walked through the door would have been an incredible understatement.

Unable to look away, a shallow breath caught in his throat as his gaze traced the contours of the stranger’s body— of your body—the way the dress clung to your figure underneath the soft tangerine glow of the flickering party lights. The way long slits in the black material revealed teasing glimpses of your silhouette in the most enticing way.

You stepped further into the room, and it was almost as if an unseen force had guided your focus toward Felix, too. Because as your eyes swept over the chaos of the party, they effortlessly bypassed the rest of the crowd and landed directly on his.

A shy smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you caught the intensity of his stare, yet the glint in your eyes hinted at something far less innocent. And it was right then and there that Felix decided that he had to know you, to feel you—taste you. In every possible way.

Driven by some unexplainable primal desire, his feet began to move of their own accord. He shouldered through the crowd, anticipation electrifying the air around him as he took a step closer to you. One step closer, and then another and—

Then Hyunjin walked in behind you. 

In such a cruel twist of fate, Hyunjin followed you through that door. And with the confidence that only Hyunjin could exude, his arm casually slipped around your shoulders, claiming you as his own. 

Felix's stride faltered as he came to a sudden stop. His heart plummeted, a heavy weight settling in its place as he watched you turn to Hyunjin. Your smile grew, blossoming into a radiant expression that drove a dagger straight through his chest.

Laughter cut through the air like shards of glass as he registered the uncomfortable press of sweaty bodies that danced too close. The rhythm of the music throbbed louder than ever in his temples, its bass pounding a relentless echo in his chest that only amplified the emptiness he felt as he watched from across the crowd as Hyunjin leaned in to whisper something to your ear. Something meant for only you to hear.

You turned your head and planted a brief, affectionate kiss on Hyunjin's lips in response, and the single dagger in Felix's heart was replaced by a thousand.

When Hyunjin glanced up from the kiss, his eyes immediately found Felix lingering in the crowd. Warmth spread across his face as the familiar smile he reserved for his best friend lit up the room.

Felix lifted his hand in a single wave—an attempt to appear casual and completely unaffected by the way your fingers seamlessly intertwined with Hyunjin's as the older boy began to lead you over.

The space between you was reduced to less than a foot—thanks to the pressing crowd—and in that close proximity, Felix found himself engulfed by the subtle scent of your perfume. Its sweetness was reminiscent of a warm summer evening, enticing his senses just enough to leave him wanting more.

After apologizing for his dead phone battery, Hyunjin strained to introduce you over the music. Every syllable of your name echoed through Felix’s mind, and as Hyunjin went on to recount the story of how the two of you had met, his voice became nothing more than a distant murmur. Quite frankly, Felix didn’t really care how Hyunjin had been fortunate enough to know you first. So he tuned out his best friend and dedicated the entirety of his focus to stealing glances in your direction, struggling to keep his gaze from lingering too long. And Felix decided that not only were you stunning, but your aura, too, was nothing short of magnetic. Confidence radiated from you in a way that was just as intoxicating as the sweetness of your fragrance. Your eyes, however, refused to leave Hyunjin. And Felix couldn't help but wonder what he would have to do to capture your attention like that.

But Felix was a good friend.

So like any good friend would, he pushed away the thought. He clenched his fist and drew in a steadying breath. With significant effort, he plastered a smile across his face—one that didn't quite reach his eyes—and turned to his best friend. "I was actually on my way out," he said. "Not feeling well, sorry mate.”

Hyunjin frowned at the interruption. His eyes glazed over with worry as he studied Felix’s face before reaching over to offer him a reassuring pat on the back. "Sure, man,” he said. “Take care. See you back home.” And Felix didn’t need to wonder why Hyunjin didn’t push him any further to stay. If he were in Hyunjin’s shoes, he would’ve don’t the very same thing—if only for the opportunity to have you all to himself.

Felix almost regretted his decision to leave when you stepped forward and met his eyes for the second time that night, your delicate features softening in a way that made his knees weak.

"Nice meeting you, Felix.”

Fuck.

The way your voice wrapped around his name, the way it rolled off your tongue had his cock straining in his already too-tight pants.

“Hope you feel better,” you added, with a smile so saccharine it had Felix feeling far more intoxicated than any amount of alcohol ever could.

Somehow, he managed a weak nod in your direction before dropping his gaze and hurriedly making his way to the door. His heart hammered in his chest like a desperate plea, urging him to stay and grasp at the fragile thread of hope he’d felt when he first laid eyes on you.

But Felix was a good friend.

And so he fought the urge to look back as he stepped outside. The night air wrapped around him, cool against his skin, but the fire inside him burned brighter than ever as you stoked the flames in his mind.

—

Upon returning to their shared apartment, Felix found no respite in the solitude of his room. He tossed and turned in the darkness, putting every ounce of effort he had into forcing thoughts of you from his mind.

The rational part of him recognized the boundaries, the loyalty owed to Hyunjin..And he tried—he really did. Even as his hand crept down to palm the growing bulge in his boxers, he knew it was wrong. But his fingers betrayed the internal conflict, slipping beneath his waistband to wrap around the base of his pulsing cock. His eyes screwed shut as he tugged slowly, picturing how your lips would look wrapped around it—how your mouth would feel, how your eyes would look shimmering with tears when you choked on it. He edged himself, because Felix liked to mix pleasure with pain. And just as he was finally about to grant himself the release he so desperately craved, Felix was yanked back to reality by the soft thud of the front door closing.

Hushed whispers began to fill the silent space on the other side of his bedroom door. Felix immediately recognized his best friend’s voice, accompanied by—

Yours.

Felix stilled with his hand still wrapped around his cock. He listened to the shuffling of footsteps, hushed laughter, and then, the decisive click of Hyunjin's bedroom door closing—and locking.

His thoughts immediately went to the possibilities playing out on the other side of the shared wall. And it didn’t take long before sounds of pleasure filled the air, growing into filthy sounds of skin slapping on skin. Felix couldn't believe his ears as the sweetest moans he’d ever heard began to seep through the cracks in the wall. Moans coming from your mouth as you were getting fucked by his best friend. Your voice rose, spewing Hyunjin’s name like some prayer, and Felix was certain he had never been this hard in his entire fucking life. Panting, his eyes screwed shut and suddenly he was pumping his cock again two—three more times until he heard you shout, “F-fuck Hyunjin I’m cumming!” and Felix came with you. The hardest he ever had, thick ropes of white shooting across his abdomen. 

After he’d finished and was thoroughly disgusted with himself, Felix lie there hoping that he wouldn’t have to interact with you in the morning. That you would be gone before the sun rose—following the pattern of those before you who had occupied Hyunjin's world for a single night. Although Felix was positive he would never find anyone quite like you, he could get over you—he would force himself to get over you, because of the unwavering loyalty he held for his best friend who had been by his side for as long as he could remember. 

Felix didn't even know you. And so, it should be easy enough to forget you, he thought.

Straightforward.

Already done.

Except for the fact that it wasn’t. Because as the weeks unfolded, it became painfully clear that your presence in Hyunjin's life—and thus, in Felix's life—would become far more profound than any fleeting one night stand. 

In the beginning, Felix had done a decent job at maintaining his distance. But the more time he spent around you, the harder it became to contain whatever it was that was burning inside of him. And it certainly didn’t help that Hyunjin insisted on weaving you into their lives. Inviting you to their late-night movie marathons, welcoming you to their favorite hangout spots, ensuring that you were always included in their plans. Felix found himself torn between the agony of watching you grow closer to his best friend and the sheer ecstasy of having you near.

Naturally, Hyunjin remained blissfully unaware of the effect you had on Felix, too wrapped up in you himself. But Felix was a good friend, determined to ensure that his commitment to his friendship would prevail. And he couldn’t deny the happiness you brought into his best friend's life. He had never seen Hyunjin so content—his expressions more animated, his laughter more genuine, his smiles more frequent than ever before. So Felix gritted his teeth and buried his attraction beneath layers of forced indifference. He put on thoughtful expressions when you spoke, despite the fact that the only thing he could think about was slipping his aching length between your legs. He smiled at you, and pretended like his cock wasn’t raw from how he abused it every night while scrolling through candid pictures of you he'd snapped without your permission. He went out of his way to make you feel comfortable, when all he wanted was for someone to make you cry so that he could be the one to wipe your tears.

Like a seasoned performer, as the months slipped by Felix became adept at masking the flames of longing and desire that raged beneath the surface. He became good at it..Until late one afternoon, in the quiet expanse of the library’s upper floor, when Felix came across you as he was heading home for the day. Your nose was buried in a heavy book, brow furrowed in concentration. And as Felix stood there, captivated by the sight of the setting sun's golden rays delicately brushing across your features, he etched the moment into the corridors of his memory, preserving it for...later reflection. You lifted your head, meeting his eyes like you had the very first night you'd met, and suddenly Felix wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to keep up the act. There was a brief pause from both of you—a silent acknowledgment of Hyunjin’s absence—before you graced Felix with a small wave.

Praying that his eagerness remained hidden, Felix made his way toward you. "Need some help?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a gentle undertone that eased some of the tension in your shoulders. You had always been comfortable with Felix, and he had always known it.

You sighed with exasperation, and it took everything for Felix not to let his gaze linger on your lips—soft and inviting, and a little swollen, as if you had been biting them in contemplation. “I’ve been at this for hours and normally Hyunjin helps me with this stuff, but he's been swamped with rehearsals lately,” you said.

Felix, suppressing the swirl of emotions triggered by the novelty of being alone with you, mustered a warm smile with sincerity that he made sure was reflected his eyes. "Is there anything I can help with?"

—

After the study session, Felix insisted that he walk you home—it was late, dark, and he genuinely cared about your safety amidst the unpredictable nighttime campus atmosphere. After all, what kind of friend would he be to Hyunjin if he let something happen to you? The conversation between you flowed effortlessly as it always did, and when you reached your doorstep you turned to him with a grateful smile, your eyes reflecting the trust that had blossomed between you over time. "Thank you, Lixie,” you said. The affection in your tone resonated like a soothing melody, and Felix couldn't help but revel in the nickname he had grown so fond of. "I really appreciate your help tonight," you added.

Felix returned your smile. "Anytime," he replied, "I'm just a text away if you need anything. Have a good night."

In the days that followed your meeting in the library, a seemingly natural rhythm developed between you and Felix. After discreetly familiarizing himself with your schedule and study habits, Felix began to strategically position himself in the library. He made sure to be there during those moments when you studied while patiently waiting for Hyunjin to conclude his dance practice.

Felix spent those precious hours focused entirely on you. He marveled at the way your eyes lit up with understanding, the soft sighs of relief when a difficult concept finally clicked. And he couldn't help but wonder whether your conversations held the same weight for you as they did for him. He wondered if you shared the details of your time spent together with Hyunjin. Or if perhaps, like Felix, you wanted to keep those shared moments a secret. 

A substantial pang of guilt gripped Felix's chest whenever he thought about it..But Hyunjin never mentioned anything—the routine of their friendship continued without interruption—and with time, the guilt dwindled. Fading into insignificance until it was hardly there at all.

Before he knew it, every innocent interaction between the two of you had become a significant event in his mind. Every stolen moment with you fueled his desire, long after Felix stopped trying to convince himself that what he felt was wrong. A friendly hug became an embrace laden with unspoken emotions. A playful nudge became a secret message, a whispered promise of something more. He couldn't see the truth anymore—couldn't separate reality from the distorted perceptions in his mind. He would lose himself to fantasies where he'd confess his love and you would respond by affirming that you felt the same. And Hyunjin would support the two of you—understanding and encouraging the connection between you and Felix—because Hyunjin was a good friend too.

Unfortunately, you were so madly in love with Hyunjin that you hadn’t noticed how the behavior of his roommate was a little..off. 

That particular evening, Hyunjin hadn’t planned on running late when he told you meet him at their apartment for your anniversary. When you texted him to let him know that you were there, he’d responded with a simple message:

Practice went late again I'm sorry, baby. Lix is there, he'll let you in. Call you when I'm outside, I'm taking you to dinner. Love u.

Your eyes, fixed on your phone screen, met Felix’s only briefly when he opened the door. As you stepped past him your thoughts remained focused solely on Hyunjin and how excited you were to see him. To be in his arms, to kiss him and exchange the details of your day. “Thanks, Lixie," you said, voice trailing as you made your way toward Hyunjin's room.

But you paused in front of Felix's room on the way, curiosity piqued by the soft lavender glow escaping from the cracked door. Drawn in by your favorite color, you ventured further inside, tossing your phone and purse onto the bed as you had done numerous times before. You found Felix's new computer setup, adorned with the vibrant purple lights that cast a mesmerizing aura throughout the room. The hum of the powerful machine filled the air, accompanied by a song from your favorite band. Your ears caught the familiar melody, though you didn't fully process the significance of it. You hummed casually, not realizing that Felix had intentionally picked the track just for you. The entire setup spoke volumes about Felix's passion for technology and his very, very meticulous attention to detail. 

Your fingers traced the sleek edges of the keyboard, and Felix couldn’t help but notice the way your skirt rode up when you bent over to get a closer look. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip as his eyes devoured the curve of your ass. “Check out the cable management at the back. Its nerdy, but I've spent quite some time making sure its all organized,” he said, knowing damn well that you would need to bend over further to see it. Which is exactly what you did, allowing Felix catch a full glimpse of the red lacy panties you had on underneath your skirt.

Fuck.

His favorite color. Had you worn them for him? Did Hyunjin even know you were coming over tonight?

Every question he’d ever had about your intentions swirled in his mind until Felix knew that he couldn't let uncertainty linger any longer.

When you stood and turned around, his lips were on yours.

Cherry flavored lip gloss, just like the one he had swiped from your purse last week in the library. For a split second, your lips pressed ever so slightly harder against his before you pulled back, covering your mouth with a hand. Your eyes went wide with shock. "Lixie...We’re friends..” you whispered. “We’re friends”, you repeated, a little firmer this time. 

Abruptly, your eyes darted to your illuminated phone screen on the bed. Following your gaze, Felix observed the caller ID, and he had never felt more like a fool. The stark reality hit him with unforgiving force as he witnessed the love mirrored in your eyes when you stared down at the glowing image of Hyunjin. He saw the depth of your very real feelings for his best friend, and how he had misinterpreted everything.

But Felix was so far gone that when you reached for your phone, his hands moved of their own accord, pushing it off the bed and sending it clattering to the floor. “Felix..” you whispered. But another impulse had him kicking your phone underneath the door—the door you hadn't realized he had closed behind you when you’d entered the room.

“Don't answer that,” he muttered, his own eyes wide with desperation. “Just...Just listen, please just let me explain," he begged, shifting in front of the closed door and reaching behind to lock it.

The shock in your expression mirrored the terror of a creature caught in the midst of an uncontrollable forest fire. And Felix felt creeping panic begin to take hold within him because this isn't how it was supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to be looking at him like that. Desperation clawed at his throat, his heart pounded in his chest, "I can explain," he pleaded. The taste of your lips lingered on his, a bittersweet reminder of his impulsive action. He observed the subtle tremor in your hands, a sign of your unease. He felt the hurt in your eyes—a hurt he had caused. And he knew that he had to fix this.

He just needed more time.

“Felix, what are you doing?" you whispered as he took a step toward you. Your eyes darted toward the door, his fingers brushed the fabric of your sleeve, and the raging inferno within Felix exploded. The crackling heat seared through his veins and—

The distant click of the front door closing echoed from the hallway.

And the realization hit Felix like a sudden downpour—What kind of friend would he be if he let Hyunjin find out what he’d done?

[marylily-my-beloved]

FATIMAH ! ♡

»»-----------► I HAVE A MICROFIC BLOG: @marylilymicrofic IF YOU LIKE MARYLILY AND LIKE MARAUDERS YOU SHOULD GO FOLLOW AND WRITE FOR IT!! I MADE IT WITH @icarus-last-fall

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»»-----------► Hiii! I hope you guys are prepared for like 4 fandom related posts a day and random rambles + shitposts ♡

»»-----------► My name is Fatimah (not real name), I am a minor (so plz don't be creepy) make any nicknames for me that you want (please please please call me Fay !!) ♡ She/they, arab, muslim, pansexual, infp, im just a girl ♡

»»-----------► MY AO3 <33 Go check it out I write marauders fics

➥ Lily and the Princesses of Power (ongoing). She-ra au, marylily fic, background ships as well. Lily escapes from the Death Eaters leaving Mary behind. 6/? Chapters ♡ On haitus sorry guys but I might update soon! Just have big writers block for this and I feel super bad for not updating :(

➥ Back at that Party (finished). Canon AU, marylily fic, background dorlene. Mary & Lily have a disagreement at a party and forced to sort it out together. 1/1 Chapter ♡

➥ Good Luck Babe! (finished). Canon AU, Lily x Narcissa wedding fic, end game narcissa x lucuis. Lily gets invited to Narcissa's wedding, and warns her about what could happen to her, and then dies a couple of years later. Main Character Death, 1/1 Chapter (based on Good Luck Babe! by Chappell Roan) ♡ (tumblr link)

➥ Burning Stars (finished). Canon AU, Bellatrix x Alice fic talking about their relationship in Hogwarts and how it ended. very angsty, hurt no comfort. 1/1 chapter ♡ (tumblr link)

➥ Strawberry Mentos (finished). Modern AU, marylily fic based on 'strawberry mentos'. Short and pretty cute and sweet. Getting Together fic. 1/1 chapter ♡ (tumblr link)

➥ Letters to A Happier Life (finished). after war AU, marylily. Lily is already dead, and Mary discovers their old letters after she obvliated herself. 1/1 chapter ♡ (tumblr link)

»»-----------► DNI IF

Rasict Transphobic and/or homphobic Islamaphobic Zionist / supports israel Sexist Discriminate against people for any stupid reason

»»-----------► I am obessed with Chappell Roan and women so much its not even funny anymore

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»»-----------► SOME LINKS TO MY FAVE POSTS I MADE

Black Sisters Dialouge

Mary Macdonald Deep Dive (P2! more in depth)

Dorcas Meadowes Deep Dive

Black Sisters Deep Dive (sorta)

Peter Pettigrew Deep Dive

Blue by Billie Eilish = Andromeda & Bellatrix

Skinny by Billie Eilish = Lily Evans

Chihiro by Billie Eilish = Dorcas Meadowes

Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo = Dorlily (Dorcas x Lily)

Apple by Charli XCX = Evans Sisters (Lily & Petunia)

24/7 by The Neighbourhood = Jily modern AU

Bellatrix & Sirius Comparison

Microfics

»»-----------► Fandoms: ♡

・❥・ Harry Potter/Marauders fandom. Gryffindor. Lily, Mary & Remus kinnie. In love with James Potter & Pandora Lovegood ♡ (fuck jk rowling I do not support her) (jkr should go die)

・❥・She-ra (2018 reboot). Harcdore catradora and scorfuma shipper. Entrapta kinnie and I am in love with her ♡

・❥・ PJO (Percy Jackson). Percabeth and Valgrace <333 Cabin #8. Pretty sure I kin Annabeth. My favourite charcater is Bianca ♡

・❥・Hunger Games. Have not finished the series yet but working on it <3. In love with Johanna ♡. Need to read half of Mockingjay & TBOSAS ♡

・❥・Heartstopper. So excited for season 3, read all of the books on webtoon. Tori & Tara lover ♡. Darcy, Elle & Charlie kinnie. Harcore Tara x Darcy shippers ♡

・❥・ Young Royals. Harcore Sara x Felice shipper & Stedrika (stella x fredrika) & of coure Wilmon and Henry x Walter. Wilhelm and Felice kinnie. In love with Maddie ♡

・❥・ ATLA & LOK. I love them so much, I love Korra and Katara & Asami. Toph + Zuko kinnie ♡ Harcore kataang and toph x suki. getting into zutara but kataang will always be the otp. I have almost all the comics for ATLA ♡

・❥・TDP / The Dragon Prince. love love love love, I got sooo back into it after season 6. protect my boy terry!!! ♡ rayllum my loves. sorvus my heart. fuck viren. probably a soren kinnie... ♡

・❥・Probably more but I can't remember rn ♡

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➥ Pride Month headcanons: #fatimahs pride headcanons 🤍 (this will be every pride month) ➥ Headcanons: yapping about headcanons 🎀 ➥ Personal stuff: me me me ! ➥ Basically everything: fatimah yaps 🎀 ➥ Deep Dives & Random long rambles: #Fatimahs deep dives ➥ My Writing (either here or a link to ao3): #Fatimahs writing ➥ Asks: #Fatimah gets an ask woah ➥ My life: fay.talks 🎀 »»-----------► Quotes ➥ marauders: Fatimahs marauders quotes 🩵 ➥She ra: Fatimahs she ra quotes 🩷 forgot the rest lol ♡

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the dividers are by @cafekitsune & the images are from Pinterest ♡

[widowmaxff]

Hiii WandaNat x daughter reader where R was severely harmed in a mission or got involved.

For example, they Nat or Wands were assigned on a mission to investigate and just so it happens, R was there so when chaos started, R was severely injured and like got a pretty bad brain damage which she will fight through. How will the mother's copee??

Thankss!

safe & sound

pairings: parents!wandanat × daughter!reader (platonic)

warnings: angst, bad writing :P, crying, physical violence, hospital, natasha blames herself ;((, lots of love from moms <3

a/n: im really sorry it took me SO long to write this request, ive been having awful weeks and im really trying to write. anyway, i hope you like it and thank you very much for the request luv <333

When you decided you wanted to follow in the same footsteps as your mothers, they didn't react so well. You always trained with the Avengers, closely watching their next steps for any unforeseen circumstances and how good they were at what they did. And you especially loved seeing Wanda and Natasha fighting, they have been your inspiration since you were little and understand each other. 

You remember when you asked your mother Natasha to start going on missions, even if it was the easier ones that would only take a few hours, and you could swear you saw her eyes light up with regret. Not that she didn't trust you, but both Natasha and Wanda knew that any mission would be dangerous and the last thing they wanted was to leave you hurt or for anything bad to happen to you. So, you started to train even more and show how much you dedicated yourself to going on one of these missions and, as your mothers knew you so well, they knew that you wouldn't give up until you went on one of them.

"Fury allowed you to go on this mission with one of us," Natasha was sitting in front of him next to Wanda in the meeting room. You couldn’t hide the smile on your face, your legs shaking because you were so excited for your first mission. "It's an easy mission where you just have to investigate and collect some important information in an old Hydra base." You nod listening to every detail of what you needed to do.

"Fury assured us that there will be no one and no agent, but for your safety you will carry a weapon, okay?" Wanda, your other mother, spoke this time. She also seemed to be a little worried about your first mission since she remembers very well what it's like to be in the hospital bed after one or see anyone else in it. Just imagining you in that position makes her body shiver.

Your mothers start to tell you some information about what you should know and what would happen. Even though the mission was so easy and simple, Wanda decided that it would be better if Natasha accompanied you, since if she went along she might end up getting so nervous that she would faint. And even though you assured that you would be careful, she made you hug her for at least five minutes, stroking your hair and giving you all the comfort you would need for that mission. "I love you so much my love."

"I love you very much too, Mama." You felt Wanda leave a long kiss on your hair as you laid your head on her shoulder. "I promise everything will be fine."

She laughs and takes a deep breath. "I'm the one who should be saying this. But you're right, my love." You separate from her and see that her eyes were full of tears.

Even though it seemed a little dramatic, you knew that Wanda was very close to you. Whenever your mother missed you because you were only away from home for a few hours, you remember when Natasha told you that when it was your first day of school when you were a toddler, Wanda didn't want to let you go at all. And now several years later, she still reacted the same way.

"Alright, we better go before Wanda makes us give up." Natasha says, making her other mother roll her eyes before walking towards her, leaving a long kiss on her lips.

"Ew, not in front of me." You make a disgusted expression at them, even if it was just a joke. You've always admired how much your mothers are in love with each other and how much they show it on a daily basis. Wanda always preferred physical affection to love Natasha, and Romanoff always preferred acts of service to love Maximoff. And even though they were different things, the two never disliked these acts.

"One day it's going to be you, sweetheart." They giggle before hugging each other as they say 'I love you'. 

[...]

Your hands sounded as you entered the Hydra base. A gun in hand as you looked in every corner of that place. You felt like something was out of position, but you tried not to worry. Maybe it was just your anxious conscious or maybe you were just too nervous. The noise of your heart was too loud and the only thing you heard was the faint footsteps of your boot on the ground. And even though you tried to focus on what was happening there at the moment, it seemed like now all of your mother Wanda's nervous genes were in you.

"I think I found it, Mom." You speak into the device in your ear, Natasha listening on the other side. She praises you, sending a wave of comfort to your mind that seemed to be trying to sabotage you at that moment.

You quickly place the pen drive in the computer and see the percentage of how much was transferred appear on the screen. You hold the gun tightly in your hands as you scan the place, looking at every possible corner. You walk to your right calmly, trying not to make too much noise in your tall black boots. And when you were about to take the next step, a big tud behind you made you turn around quickly, still with the gun pointed forward. "Mom, I just heard a noise-" And before you could finish speaking, the lights in the place went out completely, the energy going out.

"Y/n- need- leave-!" The device in your ear was getting stuck a lot, loud noises disturbing what little you could hear. Natasha tried to say something, but you almost couldn't hear, leaving you alone with your own thoughts.

With all the training you had you tried to stay as calm as possible. Even if you couldn't see if someone or something was with you, your ears tried to capture any sound coming from that space, but with the device in your ears it was almost impossible. You knew that if you took it off it would be a big risk if your mother ever managed to talk to you again. But it would also be a risk not to hear what was around you.

You debated with what you should do or not do, but it was too late when two large arms grabbed your body from the ground. You let out a startled scream when you realize what is happening. Your reflexes are quick as you forcefully push your elbow into the stomach of the stranger behind you. He staggers back, making you fall to the ground, but before you can do anything, a kick lands in your belly. You hit your head on the ground, making your vision even blurrier. Your gun was still stuck in your hands, so the first thing you do is aim forward and shoot, when you hear a male scream of pain you know you hit him somewhere. "You bitch!"

You don't realize what's happening when he takes a gun out of his pants and also shoots. You scream in pain when the bullet pierces your arm that was holding the gun, it wasn't very deep, but the pain was too horrible. And even if you tried, you couldn't raise your arm to shoot the guy again. You start to crawl backwards trying to get away from the figure that you still couldn't see in the dark and prayed that he couldn't see you too.

But when you started to hear his heavy footsteps towards you, you knew there was nothing left to do.

[...]

Wanda felt her heart stop when she heard the doctors moving around in the Compound. Someone had been hurt on some mission a few hours after you and Natasha left. Maximoff was shaking as she waited for the injured person's Quinjet to pull up, and even though she asked any of the doctors who the unlucky one was, it seemed like she was invisible to them. It seemed like they didn't want to respond to watch her heart break into a million pieces.

Wanda felt so nervous that she thought maybe she was going to faint. Thinking that the extremely injured person, since the doctors were going almost crazy to get everything they needed, could be you or Natasha, made her want to throw up her entire lunch right there. And when the car appeared in their vision, Wanda moved even closer, continuing to give the doctors space to do their work.

When the big door opened, the first thing your mother saw was Natasha with some bruises on her face along with tears that still fell on her pale face. Romanoff held you in her arms. One of them put pressure on your arm to stop the bleeding, but even so, you seemed to be bleeding from other places as a pool of blood was being spilled by Natasha's suit. Your body was unconscious and heavy in your mother's hands, your face completely scarred with cuts and bruises all over it. And even if your mother tried to look at your fragile and small body, she couldn't.

Maximoff lets out a grunt when she sees that you were the current patient. Seeing how Natasha staggered with you in her arms was one of the worst sights she could have had. You being placed on the stretcher while the doctors took you to surgery as quickly as possible was in her nightmares, and now, she could feel firsthand how horrible that was. Natasha follows the crowd of people, finally coming across her wife there. Romanoff didn't wait a second to throw herself into Wanda's arms as the two allowed the tears to fall. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

"Shh- it's not your fault, Natasha." Wanda tried to calm her down, even though it was almost impossible since she also needed comfort. "Y/n is going to be fine, it's okay."

"I- I couldn't get there in time. She was in- in a huge pool of blood and this guy was-" Natasha couldn't finish speaking before her eyes started bursting with tears again as she recalled the scene of you barely conscious on the ground while the Hydra agent kicked you mercilessly. Blood smeared everywhere and your face full of tears was what she saw every time she closed her eyes, it was horrible.

It took Wanda a few minutes to get Natasha to calm down. Despite many other occasions being the opposite, Romanoff has always shown how concerned she is about you. But seeing you and having to carry you almost dead in her arms was another thing entirely, and one that will probably haunt her forever. Natasha had the beginning of a panic attack there, with her blood on her suit and on her hands, but Wanda, knowing her wife, managed to make her feel like she was on the floor again.

A few hours had passed since you entered that operating room, and knowing that it would take a long time for the doctors to stabilize you, Wanda took care of Natasha, cleaning her body and putting her in more comfortable clothes to wait for you sitting in the waiting room. Your mother was able to breathe normally now, even though the tears hadn't stopped falling from both of their faces. Natasha felt her body want to sleep, but her mind wouldn't let her, not when you were fighting for your life in the next room.

Wanda runs her hand affectionately through Natasha's red hair that reminded her of your own. Her head on her shoulder as she felt her wife's body relax but then become rigid again, but even if Maximoff tried, she wouldn't be able to make Natasha relax. "Remember that time Y/n fell down the slide and broke her arm? She didn't even cry." Wanda spoke so softly that any outsider who saw it would think she wasn't as nervous as her wife.

"Yeah... she even asked you to break her arm with your magic so she could put a cast on it again so she could draw on it." Natasha laughs remembering when you were seven years old, you were probably the happiest child in the world.

"She's so strong," Wanda murmurs as she presses a kiss to Natasha's red hair and she closes her eyes taking a deep breath. "I know she'll make it out of this."

And when Maximoff stopped talking, one of the doctors who was participating in your surgery enters the room. Natasha was now more than awake, her body jumping up towards the man in the white coat. Wanda doesn't take long to join her either, rambling questions to the doctor over and over again. "Everything went well in the surgery to remove the bullet from Y/n's body, despite the heavy blood loss." Romanoff holds her wife's hand while listening to him talk about your conditions, squeezing it every time she feels like her heart is going to come out of her mouth. "Unfortunately, due to the severe injuries to her head, she was caused a brain injury called a concussion."

"Oh, God. She's going to be okay, isn't she?"

"Don't worry, Mrs. Maximoff. Concussion is a very common thing for people to experience and usually with a few weeks of medical treatment and rest she will feel well again." The two women were finally able to take a deep breath without feeling that nervousness in their chests. "You just need to pay attention to some symptoms she may have, such as headache, mental confusion, sometimes memory loss, nausea, vomiting, excessive fatigue and some other things that you will probably notice. With the treatment I am sure that Y/n will recover much better.”

Despite all these things you might feel, they were relieved that you were okay. And they knew you would recover quickly, your genes coming from Natasha and Wanda weren't just anyone, you were strong and everyone knew it. And even if they thought that way, nothing would prepare them for seeing you lying on the stretcher. Your body was so fragile and small there, your eyes looked so tired despite being closed and the cuts on your face didn't help. The tubes coming out of your body weren't the prettiest, but it was what was helping you survive at that moment.

"My baby girl..." Wanda stroked your hair as she looked at you now slightly pale face. Her comforting touch would make you lean against her even more if you were awake, but that wouldn't be possible at the moment. 

Natasha remained a little distant compared to Maximoff. She was scared, scared that if she made any move you would get hurt again, because in the redhead's mind everything that had happened was her fault. If she had checked to see if the area really was clean, if she had warned you as quickly as possible so you could get out of there, if she had arrived on time. "Nat?" Wanda knew what she was thinking, what she felt was written on the ex-assassin's face, and her wife had been with her for enough years to know what that mind was thinking.

In a few moments, Romanoff's body was enveloped in Wanda's affectionate and comforting embrace, who gently moved from side to side, holding her head against her shoulder while leaving a chaste kiss on her hair. Natasha knew that hug from anywhere, the hug that said everything was okay, that everything would fall into place again. Sometimes it took more than a hug for her to feel that, but sometimes she knew Wanda was right. "I w-want a hug too." Your hoarse voice was present at the scene, making your mothers quickly separate from each other.

"Y/n, my god! You scared me so much, don't ever do that again-"

"Wands, calm down, don't give her any more headaches." You chuckle along with your mother Natasha who was now holding your wife's hand. They walk towards your stretcher seeing that you still seemed to be a little disoriented with everything that happened, but even so you still had a smile on your face for them.

"How are you feeling, my love?" Wanda again made the same affectionate gestures to you as she sat next to you, feeling your body relax at her touch, but this time, you are awake enough to feel it.

"Headache and feeling like I might throw up at any moment."

"Ew." Natasha complains in a funny tone making you want to laugh at that moment, but having a headache would make things even worse. Romanoff still had an apprehensive tone on her face, maybe it was the guilt she felt she had or maybe it was seeing you in that place, with bruises everywhere. 

"You aren't hurt, are you, Mom?" Even though you almost died with a gunshot wound to your body and a brain injury, it was obvious that you would care about others, especially if it was one of your mothers.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me, sweetheart." Natasha moved a little closer to you, leaving a kiss on your forehead that was welcomed with a smile on your face. "I was so worried about you." She murmurs as Wanda places one of her hands on her wife's thigh, making small circles on it.

"I'm fine now, Mom. Thanks for going to save me." You put a small smile on your face in a funny way, trying to ease the tension of the hospital room.

"You know I'll always be here for whatever you need." Natasha wasn't just referring to helping you save yourself from physical violence, but she was also referring to helping you when you have any problems. Do you need a shoulder to cry on? She will be there. Do you need help completing a task? Don't worry, you know she won't take a minute to come to you. Problems with girls or guys? She will love telling you how she really knew the love of her life. 

In those times when something difficult happened, your mothers knew how to comfort and help you. You had an unbreakable bond and that always warmed your heart. Realizing that you had people who more than cared about you by your side was incredible. Maybe for some other people it was strange to have two mothers, but you didn't care, because for you, it was an indescribable magic.

[billskeis]

hiii! i really love your writings and im excited to see the new ones!

i was wondering if you could do a tom kaulitz fluff?

also no rush, i saw the new post so take your time!💜

ᡣ𐭩 shopping w tom

you and tom were out shopping at the mall, stepping into one of the stores, you look around to all the unfamiliar fabrics around you.

everything was so, tight-fitting.

you and tom had been dating for a while, and it has been going so well. you love him so much. however, for the time you have been dating tom, one of your biggest concerns as of now is that not once have you really wore anything feminine around him.

not that he cared.

tom was selfish, and very selfish in the fact that he wouldn’t want anybody else seeing the body you hid under the oversized clothes you wore everyday. in comparison to all the other girls tom has dated, they wore clothes that hugged their body snug, curves out on display 24/7.

not to say that you weren’t confident in your body, you very much were. you just found comfort in wearing clothes that didn’t have to suffocate you, comfort over anything. there were countless times you have been mistaken for a boy wearing clothes as such.

but for tom, he was the only person who could see your perfect body.

he was the only person who could relish in the true beauty you hid under all the layers of bagginess. he also adored how similar your styles were and that matching with each other was so easy, always buying two of the same shirts or sweaters for one another. he loved it a lot.

“what’s the matter?,” tom stands beside you as you hold the small, black body-con in your hands, the straps dangling off your fingers. “i don’t know if i like this, if we’re going out for dinner i want to be able to eat quite a lot. but this dress is soo gorgeous..”

he laughs at you and squishes your cheek between his thumb and index finger, you try to swat away his hand but he’s already dodging you.

“you are quite the eater,” he chuckles as you jokingly elbow the side of his body, smiling. “but whatever makes you most happy and comfortable, i will always love you and what you wear regardless.”

this man has you in a chokehold.

his way of words was so clever, whatever he said and did was always able to make your knees weak, you tilt your head at tom, staring, “i do want to be able to dress up for once..” biting your lip, tom’s eyes widen as he looks at you, the dress, and then quickly looks away. “mm, but baby you know how i feel about men.. they have no shame.”

“they can’t help but gawk their eyes at you even when you’re mine.”

he’s recalling the night were you were both out on a date, coming out the theatre from the movies. it wasn’t even anything dressy you were wearing but instead of a baggy t-shirt like you’d normally wear it was a crop top that showed off your midriff.

let’s just say it didn’t end well for that stranger, tom made it very clear who you were to him.

you pout, you weren’t upset at tom’s possessiveness, if anything it was quite hot. but you wanted to doll yourself up for your man. after all, he really deserves it for being the best boyfriend ever. “aw, but i really wanted to wear this tonight, it IS more for you than it is for me.” you smile innocently at tom who swallows hard, a little speechless at your words because you usually praise how you hate clothes like this.

what’s changed?

he imagines you in the dress, staring at your reflection in the full body-length mirror as you adjust the dress by the spaghetti straps. the dress sits right above your upper thighs, the whole thing showing off your cinched waist and chest. black was also such a sexy color, and it made tom go insane.

you definitely looked good.

as you fix your lip gloss, you bend your body a little closer to the mirror to see better, dress rising up a bit to reveal a bit of your butt.

snapping out of his imagination, tom stands behind you, snaking both his arms around your waist under your shirt, his arms warm. you feel yourself feeling a little hot and panic a bit as you’re in public. trying to escape the grip from him but to not cause a scene in the shop as you almost drop the dress on the floor doing so. he laughs at your attempts to get him off you and kisses your cheek quickly.

you grin at him, what is he doing? tom finally loosens his grip on you as he snatches the dress you were once holding and runs towards the cash, “hey—! what changed your mind?” you ask following behind him as you have a hold on his sweater like a pet-owner trying to control their dog. he stops in his tracks to look at you while the cashier rings up the dress.

tom brings both of his hands to each side of your waist, caressing it a bit while you simply just allow him. his touch is so familiar and comforting you cannot help but not stop him. did the both of you forget that you were in public? “hello? tom? you didn’t answer my question,” crossing your arms as he stops the movement of his hands now just staring at you and smiling brightly.

“wear that dress tonight, i can fight.”

[artydonsgf]

I loveeeed your patrick enemies to lovers headcanons. Do you think you could do something with patrick as a husband or dad? It’s not something we see at all in the movie, but I think it could be cute!

hiii thank you sm!! i was already planning on writing husband patrick n dad patrick so im happy that someone wants it! here you go sweets, enjoy!

Patrick Zweig as a Dad

- when he finds out he’s becoming a father, he’s tweaking

- it’s not because he doesn’t want the baby, it’s more fear that he won’t be a good dad

- warms up very quickly and is very giddy

- tells random people at the grocery store that he’s gonna become a dad

- would shout it from the rooftops if he could

- has no clue what anything means at all

- just happy to be there tbh

- never misses appointments, he’ll finish a game then haul his ass across town for your appointment

- yes he’s a little sweaty and yes he’s a little stinky but he’s there! and excited!

- when he finds out you’re having a little boy, he’s very excited

- he wouldve been happy with either but he’s excited at the idea of having a son

- i feel like patrick never really had a good relationship with his own father and he wants to create a new cycle with his little boy

- doesn’t let you carry anything towards the last trimester

- it’s sweet at first but now you’re annoyed because he’s holding your water to your mouth because the glass might drop n break on your stomach

- he doesn’t really believe that but any excuse to be close to you and have a hand on your stomach is good enough for him

- your baby brain isnt a problem because he’s thought of everything

- leave your keys somewhere? don’t worry, he’s made three copies (n it’s not because he’s also lost his keys)

- when your water breaks at 3 pm on a wednesday, he’s somehow a complete mess

- he has no clue where the fucking keys went n now he’s mad at himself because he copied three separate copies for this exact scenario

- tripped and ate shit over your hospital bag after not being able to find it

- now he’s hobbling to the car with a sore chin before he realizes the car isn’t starting

- calls art screaming and despite how completely intelligible he sounds, art is there with a ride in five minutes

- now that the birth is actually here, he’s all freaked out again

- he’s holding your hand and despite trying to comfort you, it feels more like you’re comforting him

- after a small pep talk from art who might’ve smacked him (gently), he marches back in there with his head on straight

- baby boy comes very quickly and patrick has the honor of catching him

- he’s crying and sniffling and laughing

- hands baby to you through tears

- stays awake for two whole days and just stares at the life you created together

- you catch him with a dopey grin on his face a million times

- once yall are able to go home, he asks you if he did the “hot dad walk” right (he did research)

- safe to say he def did

- once you’re home, you sleep like a dream

- patrick has made it his mission to let you rest and he stays true to that mission

- unless it’s bonding time or feedings, you are dead asleep and healing and patrick is running around n doing everything, household chores n cooking included

- as baby boy grows up, patrick is the best dad in the world

- he has him try every activity ever n when baby boy settles on wanting to do theater, patrick is the annoying dad who stands up at the end of the production whooping and hollering

- parenting style is very chill but one thing he doesn’t play about is his son showing respect

- if that boy ever dares to disrespect you or any other woman in his life, patrick is on it in an instant

- doesn’t hit or yell at baby boy, just uses stern words and reiterates that he loves him and he wants him to be a good person

- we love you dadrick

i hope yall enjoy mwah mwah mwah

[avatar-anna]

hiii, im from brazilll

you can write something like swiftie!yn going to the first show of the eras tour with harry and he is all in love looking at her all emotional and have fun

"If I don't have red lipstick all over me by the end of the night, I'll be very surprised," Harry mused, trailing behind you as you pulled him along.

You turned back to look at him, sparkly red cowboy hat catching the light. "Is that what you want?"

"It's what I expect," he clarified. "You get rather affectionate when you're in a particularly good mood."

"I've never heard you complain about that," you said, letting Harry drape an arm around your shoulders so you could walk together.

"And I never will. Why do you think I work so hard to make you happy?"

Rolling your eyes, you tipped your head back. Your hand found his chin, pulling him down for a kiss. Grinning, you said, "Well, this lipstick claims to be one hundred percent transfer proof, so no lipstick stains tonight."

To your surprise, Harry frowned. "How is anyone supposed to know I'm yours?"

"I'll look for my lipgloss when we get to our seats."

"You better."

Harry knew this was a special night for you, so he tried to let you enjoy it without being all over you. He wanted to let you dance and scream song lyrics at the top of your lungs without him getting in the way. It ended up working out for him, though. His view from behind as he watched you watch your favorite artist was more captivating to him than the concert he was currently attending.

Your white go-go boots with pink hearts on them and matching mini skirt elongated your legs, plush tan skin on display and making Harry's heart skip a beat. He was aware of course that there were people all around, so he tried his best not to stare so openly, but it wasn't easy, especially when you began dancing.

Harry half expected for you to completely ignore him the entire concert. He didn't mind, obviously. Taylor Swift was your favorite artist of all time and you were at the first night of the Eras Tour. Harry was there to enjoy a good concert, but he knew it was so much more for you.

But he was prepared. He had tissues in his pockets for when you cried, makeup wipes for when you returned to the car and eventually wanted to wipe all the glitter off your face, your comfiest pair of slippers waiting in the car, and one of his hoodies for you to slip into on the drive home.

Color him shocked when you held his hand almost the whole show. There were moments where you had too much excitement for your favorite songs, but a lot of the time you were tucked into Harry's side, singing along quietly with your eyes glued to the stage. Harry watched the show too, but he found himself watching you more. It was so cute to see you so lost in the moment, so enamored by music. Harry had seen something similar when he spotted you from onstage at his own shows, but this was different. You loved Harry's music, he knew that, but every track, every lyric, every melody that Taylor Swift had released was everything to you.

"Why didn't you wear the outfit from the music video?" Harry whispered in your ear when "You Belong With Me" came to a close. He was joking, but of course you had a serious answer.

"I'm saving it for another date. Thought I would be more dressed up for the first night." Looking over at him, you grinned before kissing his cheek. "Don't worry. I already have your outfit planned out."

Harry shook his head, exasperated but not at all surprised. "Can't wait."

During "Enchanted," you took Harry by surprise and turned to face him and rested your cheek on his chest. In your boots, you were tall enough to speak quietly in his ear despite all the noise.

"I loved this song when it first came out."

"You did?"

You nodded, one hand finding his and threading your fingers together. "I used to wonder if anyone could really feel that strongly for anyone. So...giddy and enchanted and completely and totally in love. It seemed so out of reach at the time, like an actual fairytale written as a song."

Harry bent his head down so he could look you in the eye. Yours were closed, enjoying the moment, the song being performed onstage. "Did you ever figure it out?"

"I met you." That was all you needed to say, really.

A smile spread across Harry's face as he rested his forehead against yours. His heart beat rapidly in his chest at her small confession. He knew exactly what you meant. Harry wasn't sure if you knew it, if you were even aware of it, but you'd changed his life completely. He'd been in love maybe once or twice before, but it was nothing compared to the feelings he had for you. It was...he supposed you were right, it really was something like magic.

"I love you," he said, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke each word.

You kissed his cheek a couple times before pressing your lips to his. Harry was sure you were trying your best to make good on your promise and leave a mark, and he hoped it worked. The kiss didn't last long, seeing as you were both still aware enough of your surroundings that you knew better than to let things get too heated. But you smiled against his mouth and squeezed his hand appreciatively, happy to share one of the greatest nights of your life with the person you loved most in the world.

"I love you too," you said, then turned around, letting Harry's arm pull you close to his chest and keep you nice and snug there for the next couple songs.

[thatlightbluefox]

Hiii I saw you on Deviantart and followed you but heard u are also on Tumblr and followed here as well! Welcome to the PPG community! I wanted to ask, do you have a PPG AU of your own with your own stories? Or you just posting nice snippets of just PPG and RRB? Also note I'm a multishipper sooo I love your Butchubbles content! I love the other ships as well but im biased towards Bubbles lol- Also what do you think of other ships like Color Code or Color Clash? (The pairs u have are called Color Crack I believe unless I got the name wrong) Anyways sorry for very much rambling I get excited to see new PPG peeps lol

HELLOOO!!

I’ve seen you around every so often in my comments. Nice to see you here too and thanks for the welcome!

Good question! Honestly I’ve been wanting to make a Powerpuff AU of my own, but I’m a stickler for keeping things as close to the cannon as I possibly can AND having a few hc’s that aren’t. Plus I don’t have a good writing bone in my body to actually make an AU that isn’t basically RRB and PPG being frienemies. SOoo Im mostly just making silly drawings of the groups! (Plus of my OC Briar to answer questions on here)

Also nice to see more Butchubbles fannsss!! I am a bit of a multi shipper too (mostly just two Bubbles ships, Boomerxbubbles and ButchxBubbles because.. Im also biased towards Bubbles) I don’t really mind the Color Clash or Color crack ships! Honestly just depends on how good people are able to write out or draw the dynamics.

Anyway Welcome to my Tumblr page! ^^

[emeritusemeritus]

HIII im so happy your requests are open you’re one of my favorite writers on here!!! i’ve been craving more twins x reader content and i’ve always wanted to see them pining after an oblivious customer at the shop like literally spelling it out for her and just her being a bit dense thinking that she’s just a valued customer 😀 love your work and hope you have a great week!!

Thank you so much!! This was an absolute pleasure to write, I really hope it’s okay for you! 🖤

Warnings: None? Mentions of implied kissing, reader is completely oblivious. Fred is as charming as ever and George is a sweetheart.

Word count: 1.8k

Paying Customers.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had quickly become your favourite spot in all of Diagon Alley. It was vibrant and exciting, a draw for many witches and wizards without any hint of discrimination and it didn't hurt that the two owners were two of the most handsome men you'd ever seen, not that you'd dream of telling them that.

Your first visit to the shop has been an accident really, hunting down a perfect gift for your nephew who was just about to start his first year at Hogwarts. One of the owners, who you found out to be Fred had helped you find the most perfect gift that had been an overwhelming success with your nephew. The second time, he was slightly different than you remembered and you'd convinced yourself that you had just remembered him differently until the very man you'd been secretly thinking about since your first time at the shop walked out and greeted you with a big smile. That was the first time you met George, and unceremoniously found out that they were identical twins.

Since then you'd been back numerous times, sometimes for gifts, sometimes for more personal reasons and has even started dropping in on your lunch break just to chat to the twins as your friendship grew. They were abundantly friendly and chatty, so naturally funny and charming that it was easy to talk with them and they always made you feel incredibly welcome. Fred had invited you to the shop to share your lunch break together multiple times and you'd even found yourself hanging around as the store closed around you because George wanted company.

"I'm so excited!" Valerie, one of your best friends says enthusiastically as you step into Diagon Alley. She was from France and was educated at Beauxbatons, missing the cut off for the Triwizard Tournament by one year, something she was still peeved about. She was visiting you in London and she'd made you promise to take her to the place you kept mentioning in your letters.

You laugh along, seeing her excited face as you round the corner, walking past Ollivanders until the figurehead of the twins appeared up ahead, the brilliantly vibrant orange building standing out against the muted palettes of the other shops.

"Afternoon ladies," you hear from beside you, waking a grin spread across your face. Fred.

"Hi Freddie," you smile up at him, seeing his broad grin already stretched out across his face. His gaze flashes to Val and you briefly introduce them until your attention is pulled away by George who appears on your other side, already eagerly talking to you about the new product he'd been working on, the same one you'd offered to help with only the other night, pausing briefly to introduce himself to Val.

"Right Georgie, reckon we best get back to the paying customers," Fred says with a wink in your direction, pulling his brother away as they go back to assisting the other customers in the shop. George touches your shoulder gently as he squeezes past and gives you a sweet smile before heading off, immediately going over to a little boy and his mum who are looking at the Pygmy puffs. Your eyes trail towards Fred who's lingering around the love potion stand, trying to flog them to a group of witches who look to be around their third year. When he spots you looking, he gives you a little smirk and another wink, gesturing towards the love potions with a wiggle of his eyebrows. You can't help but smile, giggling a little before you look away, turning back to Val.

Her eyebrow is raised at you and her face holds a knowing smirk, already implying something.

"So what did they mean 'paying customers', are you not one?"

You give a little shrug, "they give me a discount, sometimes they let me test things, it's nothing really."

Her face says everything she isn't saying, she's delighted but judgy, as if she doesn't believe a single thing you were saying. You laugh and nudge her gently, "really, we're friends."

"Very friendly friends?" She teases with a wiggle of her eyebrows but you nudge her again and tell her to behave, not wanting to get into it, especially in a place that created and sold extendable ears, nothing was safe from the Weasley Twins.

She walks over to the Peruvian instant darkness powder, picking up a crystal and examining it in her hands with a smile on her face.

"So how can you tell them apart? You knew straight away," she says, casting her gaze over to you as she puts down the crystal and moves across to the next shelf, the display of wonderwitch products; carefully avoiding the puking pastilles on the way.

"Oh I don't know, they don't look that similar to me anymore. I suppose it's mannerisms mainly, Fred usually talks first and George is better at explaining things," you explain, stopping your eyes from wandering back to the owners.

"Hmm," she says with a smirk, still holding back what she was going to say.

Suddenly, the rolling ladder appears from the side with George clutching on to the steps, his smile splayed across his face as he appears.

"Pimple vanisher, yeah it really works," George says nodding his head, "tried it myself, well on Ron anyway. Ten seconds and your spots are gone."

"But how?" Val says, beguiled by the magic behind it. You stand back and watch, enjoying seeing George so effortlessly charming, showing what he'd created.

"Course, some of us don't need it do we y/n?" He says, looking up to you with a sweet smile, "must be good genetics."

"Or maybe I'm an avid Wheezes tester with a very rigid skincare routine," you play along, holding up the little pot of vanisher.

"That's a good sale!" He says with excitement, "want a job? Could do with prettying up the employees."

"Pretty sure you and Fred were trying to work out who was more handsome last night, I think you know you're pretty enough," you smirk, earning a chuckle from George.

"Clearly I won," he adds, flashing a grin at Val.

"What are everlasting eyelashes?" She says, picking at the pink and black box.

"Exactly what they say on the box," George flashes her a teasing smirk before pulling you closer to him by the hand, displaying you. "Want lashes like these? Make the boys really notice your beautiful eyes? Just need this box and your dreams will come true."

"You think she has beautiful eyes?" Val teases, goading George but it doesn't work, he bites back almost instantly, nodding enthusiastically.

"Wanted to put her photo on the box but she wouldn't let me," he chuckles with a little shrug before pausing for a moment and reaching up high for the little package of flirting fancies.

"Make any man fall at your feet with these, just one bite and they'll be smitten," he says, handing the neatly wrapped box to Val.

"Think you might have accidentally ingested one," she mutters, just quiet enough for only you to hear and covering it with a smile as she looks over the box. You subtly nudge her and she relents, but not before shooting you a wicked look.

"Anything you want, on the house," George smiles, flashing you one last look before rolling away and starting anew with his next customer.

"Right tell me honestly, how many of these have you given him?"

"Val! I told you we're friends," you say with a roll of your eyes.

"You might want to tell him that," she quips, nodding her head towards the space behind you. As soon as you turn, you're met with the rather solid chest of Fred Weasley.

"Ladies," he smirks with a dramatic bow of his head, his hand reaching up to touch your shoulder gently.

"You give all your customers this much attention?" Val asks with raised but playful brows, completely ignoring your glare.

"Only the prettiest ones," Fred replies, reaching out to grab the little pot beside the love potions. Val shoots you another knowing look with her eyes and you wordlessly tell her to shut up with your own, doubling down on the harsh glare.

"Kissing concoction," he says, holding up the little pot of almost clear liquid, "makes the drinker become longingly infatuated with the giver, just long enough to ensure only the best kisses will be shared. Made with real pearl dust as well."

"Maybe I could try it on you?" Val asks, suddenly getting flirty with Fred, "prove that it really works."

You don't miss the way his tongue slips out to meet his lips as he clears his throat, fidgeting somewhat uncomfortably.

"No can do I'm afraid, store policy," he smirks, recovering quickly with the banter.

"But if y/n asked?" Val says sweetly, smiling devilishly between the two of you, making you have to fight to stop your eyes rolling at her insinuation.

"Well she is a valued customer," he says with a pause, pretending to think, finger tapping on his chin, "but rules are rules and who am I to ever break them?"

You can't help but snort out a little laugh, knowing exactly how Fred Weasley felt about rules but you don't say anything, knowing it would only fuel the fire. He looks at you with a teasing smirk but you look away, feeling Val's gaze flicking between the both of you.

"You're so oblivious aren't you," she says whilst walking around the shop, keeping the Pygmy puff she’d painstakingly picked out tucked protectively under one arm.

“What do you mean?” You ask, frowning in her direction, pausing to grab a trick wand for your nephew from the basket near the till.

She shoots you a look, showing her disbelief, “let me think, they give you a discount, one of them has said in no complex way that you had beautiful eyes and perfect skin.”

“George was just,” you interrupt, only for her to look at you with a mild glare, not open to listening to your excuses.

“The other said he’d kiss you and that you were pretty, they clearly like you!”

“I just come in a lot, they’re good businessmen, you know flattery gets your everywhere right? You’re not gonna be rude to a valued customer,” you argue.

“You don’t have to be that friendly either,” she retorts with a sarcastic smile, checking out the pyro display in front of her, dropping the subject.

Your attention drifts away and you subtly turn to your left, feeling eyes upon you. There’s a brief moment where you realise that both Fred and George are watching you from the middle landing on the stairs, both leaning on the rail, before they notice that you’re watching them. As soon as you turn further, they instantly spring into action, pretending they weren’t watching you and spring into action helping the customers, almost comically so.

Your gaze shifts back to Val and you begin to wonder, could she be right?

[bearyzdiary]

aa !! i'm so glad to have found someone who writes cry of fear x readers!! could i request simon with a reader who doesnt usually show emotion, but one night just has a meltdown while theyre hanging out?

have a great day/night!! :D

Life is tough

Simon x reader!

This diary entry contains: Mental breakdownsl Established relationship|Simon is such a sweet heart in this| may be short idk

HIII IM SORRY FOR JUST POOFING OUT OF THIN AIR FOR A BIT BUT!! Im back and im supposed to be getting a new laptop today so thats fun!

I really hope you do enjoy this🥳

You and Simon were alike in so many ways.Maybe it was the fact the both of you guys had a hard time opening up and communicating.Unlike Simon who had a therapist and tried to talk to people you kept yourself all shut it.

You hated crying around people and you weren’t a big fan of smiling as much.People never understood you like Simon did because Simon was understanding and didnt push you to show emotions like other people.

that was all until one night when you went to hang out with simon.You had been on edge all day.It started with your teacher putting you on blast in front of the class for slacking off,Then at lunch you spilled milk on yourself which did end up starting to smell forcing you to haunt down simon to borrow his hoodie for the rest of the day.

on the train ride to his house you nearly tripped in front of a group of college kids who tried to hold in their laughter.You felt embarrassed as you sat down in the seat in the far back.

You just wanted to go ghost and not speak to anyone besides simon and close friends.Once you arrived at his house you stared at the house as kids played in the streets and colored on the sidewalk.

you felt so out of place in a way.So gloomy stuck in a colorful place.you push open the gate before walking up the steps.The sound of the steps must have alerted his mother as she came rushing to open the door and greet you.

"(Y/N)! it's so sweet to see you after all this time"She said while pulling you in for a hug.The smell of her perfume filled your nose as you hugged her back.

"Simon is in his room,He seemed so excited to spend some time with you im truly happy he found you"She said as allowed you in.You nodded as you made your way through the familar house layout.

Coming up to the door you knew belonged to simon,You knocked a couple of times before hearing the sound of a window opening,coughing and something being sprayed.

his bedroom door swung open as he smiled slightly.No words were exchanged as you shuffled into his room.He closed the door before looking at you with a worried expression.

"Did something happen?You look upset"He asked while sitting on his bed.You felt hot tears fill your eyes slowly at the question.Simon took noticed and open his arms slightly.You walked over before plopping into his arms and letting out a chocked sob.

"I try so hard simon and it's like nobody understands besides you.I keep messing up while trying to be good at things and it's eating at me slowly"You ranted as tears fell from your eyes.

Simon rubbed your back as he nodded before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead."I know it may seem hard and trust me i know but something i learned is that you have to learn how to well do things on your own without trying to be good for other people"He explained.

You sniffled as it went quiet besides the sounds of the kitchen sink being faintly heard and kids screaming at each other.After a bit of crying in his arms,Simon placed you in his bed before laying next to you.

"Your very speical and you shouldnt be so worried about how people think of you.Just know i think your a cool person even if you barely show your emotions"He explained while pulling the blankets over you the both of you.

"I had something's planned for us but they can wait you clearly need a nap"Simon said while holding you close and closing his eyes.You slowly copied his movement as you felt safer in his arms.

for once you were glad you showed some emotion to simon because now you know you can rely on him to comfort you.

[smoooothoperator]

hiii lauraaa!! im just gonna say first things first and once again, Congratulations on writing an amazing series!!🥳✨️🫶🏼💗

I've been dedicated in reading and catching up and heads up, i may spam you with imagine plots soo sorry not sorry hehe😅😭

diving head first: I'd love to know abt the proposal + wedding details like whether lando proposed or violet proposed or maybe both🤷‍♀️😉 (like one of the tiktoks where the couple proposed at the same time), whoever proposes, what was their THE MOMENT when they knew 'this is it' (context: like jake and amy from b99 if you have watched), etc and etc.

i may have ranted in more detail but just wanted to share my pov of the idea. I'm sooo excited to see how this takes place! (ps: no pressure on writing asap!! take your sweet time pleasee! its always worth the wait to read😭😭😭)

okie now! byeeeeee loveee youuuuu mwaaahhhhh take care and happy race weekend!!🫂😉🫶🏼✨️ xx

Sorry it took me too long! Right now I'm very very very focused on reading that I really forgot that I had to write this HAHAHAHA

But I hope you like this!

He always knew he wanted to marry her. At first it was a joke he used to tell himself or his friends, that he was going to marry Violet no matter what, that he would put his last name next to hers. But it was only that, a joke and he barely though about it as something more.

But the day he had her, the day she said she loved him, he immediately knew he had to make that come true, that he was going to love her until his last breath. Days with her were like a new adventure he was dying to explore.

Lando started the search of a ring for her during the honeymoon phase of their relationship. He was so naive, so on love. He found himself countless times looking at rings everytime he walked in front of the jewelries Monaco, making screenshots on his phone of the ones he liked, picturing Violet with that ring on her finger.

But then the crash happened. He had to focus on her, on her recovery and making sure she was comfortable. And during that time with her, he came to the realization that he has to love the present and enjoy every second with her, enjoy life with her. But it made him realize, too, that he wanted to be next to her forever, now for real.

A year turned in two, two in three, and their love never stopped growing. They filled their house with souvenir of every places they visited, and their dogs were like their kids, always going with them to Lando's races.

It was a day he went out around Monaco with Max when he stopped right in front of the jewelry he always looked at. Max looked at him and smirked, nudging him and walking inside of the store. That day, he held Violet close to his chest, and while she was sleeping peacefully, he was staring at the ring inside elf the box, smiling widely.

He planned it, he kept the ring for months, and even if sometimes he decided to not wait and propose right in tbe moment, he waited for the day.

They went back to that city of snow, the city their favorite writer got inspired to write their favorite books. He thought it was perfect, Max and Pietra were with them, as well as their dogs.

"You know she will suspect if she find us recording, right?" Pietra sighed, looking at him.

"She won't" Lando nodded. "I have it planned, don't worry guys"

Lando had it pictured in his mind, he has been thinking and dreaming about this day since he bought the ring. When he's going to kneel, what words he's going to speak.

But it wasn't as easy as he thought.

His first attempt ended up with a fail. He wanted to go for a walk with the dogs and making sure that Max and Pietra were some meters away, with their phones in their hands making sure to record everything. But it ended with them screaming in a panic attack because one of their dogs decided to go explore to the wood. Thankfully they found the dog, covered in snow and the day ended with them cuddling the black dog in front of a fire and making sure he didn't freeze.

His second attempt was planned while they slept. It had to be something simple, no surprises. He has to make sure that their dogs are near, that the ring is in the box.

But at morning, when everything he wanted to do was cuddle her, he found Violet already in the living room making lunch for the day that was planned on the ski resort. So maybe that was the perfect moment to ask her.

He made sure he had the box with the ring in the inside pocket of his snow coat, sometimes having the need of patting his chest to make sure that the box was still there.

"Babe, you okay?" Violet asked worried, watching how he was always rubbing his chest. "Did something happen?"

"Oh? No, no! Why do you think that?" he frowned confused.

"Well..." she smiled looking him. "You can't stop touching your chest. Are you nervous because we're going to the red zone?"

"What?! Me?! My second name is danger" he scoffed, talking with a high pitched voice.

"Sure" she laughed, kissing his cheek.

Lando swallowed thickly and turned his head slightly to look at Max and Pietra, somehow panicking and moving his hand side to side under his chin.

"Abort plan, abort plan" he mouthed, making his friends chuckle.

He never thought that proposing to hercould be that hard without making her suspect.

He normally has a lot of patience, he had to get high levels of patience to love with two puppies and train them. But this? This is ending his patience levels.

The four of them spent the day skiing while their dogs were at a dog daycare place. And once they finished and got back with their dogs, Lando was too quiet on the way back to the house. And when they were finally there, he went immediately outside, grabbing his phone and texting Max.

Lando: Okay, this is the last chance. I'll stay out for a while, if she goes outside to talk with me, follow her.

Max: I never imagined proposing would be this hard...

Lando: Try it, then we'll talk 😩

Lando stayed out of the house, looking at the ring inside of the box. It doesn't have a big stone, in all his hers dating her he discovered that she doesn't like big jewelry. And the ring is the perfect definition of what she would wear everyday.

Rhysand and Feyre, their dogs, walked out of the house and stayed with him, cuddling him and trying to keep him warm, or trying to give him a reason to go back to the house.

"Hey, what are you doing outside? It's getting cold" Violet smiled, leaning on the door frame.

"Oh-" he wasn't ready. "C-can we talk?"

"There's something wrong?" she asked worried, walking towards him. "Lando, are you okay?"

"Well, I'm nervous" he sighed.

Violet started to panic. Nervous? Why would he be nervous? Is he going to break up with her?

"W-what?" she mumbled, swallowing thickly.

"I just wanted to do it before, but everytime I tried to talk with you, something happened" he said.

"Oh..."

She could feel her vision getting blurry, not noticing the confusion in Lando's face.

"Baby, why are you crying?" Lando asked, holding her hands.

"You are going to break up with me, it's that?"

"What? No!" he laughed, pulling her close to him. "No! I'm actually going to do another thing"

She didn't feel him kneeling in front of her, grabbing the box inside of his coat. But when she finally understood what was happening, he didn't even need to say a word before she threw herself into his arms.

"You gave me a heart attack!" she exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, baby" Lando chuckled, holding her.

"But... Yes" she whispered. "I will marry you, idiot"

[yinora-evergreen]

HIII BABES i saw u write for spn so here's a req if ur willing !!

can i have a sam x genderfluid reader (or nonbinary is fine !) where reader saves sam from a monster attack and ends up tagging along w him and dean, during which sam kind of follows them around and admires them a lot ??

thanksss xx and hope ur enjoying the show

a/n: SURE THING BABE!! im actually so excited because this is my very first supernatural request, so thats really cool! i love the username btw, and the banner thing on your profile, really mixing my hyperfixations there! (dead boy detectives + supernatural) if you want another part, or another prompt whatsoever just request!

pairing: Sam Winchester x genderfluid!hunter!reader, platonic!Dean Winchester x reader, set with season 2 in mind (Dean doesn't have a deal yet)

note: i am not personally genderfluid, so im sorry if there are any inaccuracies, i tried my best with the knowledge i have. reader rides a purple motorcycle, Dean and reader are little shits to eachother but we love it here. reader is a badass because i said so. reader knows about Dean and Sam because of Bobby. reader is mentioned to wear eyeliner once. reader likes metallica (same)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

it started with a simple case, it was a quick vamp nest, in and out.

what they hadn't thought of, was the fact that maybe, maybe, the kind woman who was hitting on both of them at the bar at an ungodly hour might've been a vamp too, and perhaps wanted to get rid of them, keep them away from her oh-so-lovely nest.

so here they are, tied up, gagged with a cloth, vamps practically circling them.

Sam could count 4 in sight, and atleast three taking naps a few feet away.

while Sam racks his mind for a solution, Dean can't help but shoot a wink to the vampire who hit on them at the bar a few hours ago, trying to act as chill as he can.

suddenly, all four of the circling vampires look up at the sound of a motercycle, and before they know it one comes crashing through the wooden wall, a guy with a helmet, you, being on top of it.

you jump off the motorcycle, letting it crash right into two vampires and lodging them against the opposite wall while you take out your machete, slashing at the other two, cutting their heads off with great skill.

next, the three napping vampires wake up, and immediately fling themselves at you.

you avoid them, dodging as if its a walk in the park, and cut off their head too.

for a second, you forget about the last two vamps, who are now free from your motorcycle, and charging at you.

one of them manages to knick your arm, leaving a small cut, and the other just completely misses, her leg having been crushed from the crash.

you handle them both pretty well, slashing at them and effectively killing them.

you take off your helmet, letting out a relieved sigh.

"damn, it better not be broken too bad" you mumble as you walk over and set your motorcycle upright again.

you hear muffled... something, coming from one of the guys tied to the pole, and see them both looking at you.

"oh, right, people" you mumble, taking a few long strides to get to them, first removing the cloth from their mouth and then the rope from their hands.

"you two good?" you ask, helping them up.

"how the fuck did you do that?" the shorter one asks, running a hand through his short hair.

"lets see, training, training, practice, did i mention training?" you say sarcastically, earning a chuckle from the tall one.

"hey, that was pretty cool, im taking it you're a hunter? we are too, im Sam and this is my brother Dean" he says with a smile, it reminds you of a golden retriever.

"wait, your last name doesn't happen to be Winchester, right?" you reply with a small smile of your own.

"its nice to meet you, i'm [name], i heard of you two from Bobby"

"well, your motorcycle seems pretty fucked, one of its tires is going empty and there's a piece hanging loose" Dean comments, dusting off his hands.

"oh for fuck's sake, i just got it fixed!" you groan in annoyance.

"oh, you can tag along with us if you want, we got a motel nearby" Sam offers sweetly, earning an elbow in the ribs from Dean.

"thanks, but i'm good, i got a motel room nearby too, infact, it wouldn't surprise me if we got the same one. Sunshine's Seashell Motel?" Sam looks surprised, Dean just looks annoyed.

"right, great, we'll see you tomorrow, maybe" Dean comments, before grabbing Sam's arm and practically dragging him away.

you smile to yourself, shaking your head before walking out aswell, going back to the motel.

the next morning, you put on a tanktop and some comfy jeans, matched with a flannel. you walk out, hair loose and some eyeliner on.

you walk out front to bring back your key, a duffelbag over your shoulder. you thank the worker behind the desk, and hear mumbling behind you.

you turn to the sound, and see Sam and Dean standing there, Dean making a face while Sam seems to talk wide eyed.

"im telling you Dean, that's the guy who saved our asses last night!"

"bullshit! thats just some girl in a flannel who looks like him, im sure of it!"

you smile, and decide to walk over to them. "hey boys! rested up from the whole thing yesterday?" you can't help but grin at Dean's flabbergasted face.

"im sorry, but i could swear you were a guy last night" Dean says, looking very confused.

"i was" you say cassually, walking along with them as they exit the motel and walk to their car, which you can't help but admire.

"what?" Dean looks even more confused, and Sam speaks up.

"genderfluid, Dean, she's genderfluid" Sam looks almost interested in you, but you shrug it off for admiration or something.

"atleast, i think thats it, right?" you nod, coming to a stop as Dean just shakes his head in disbelief and gets into the drivers seat, dumping his bag in the back, and Sam is about to go into the passengers seat before he looks at you.

"you wanna come with us? we're going to Bobby's, and im guessing your motorcycle isnt in a driving state." he smiles kindly at you, and you can swear he checks you out with his eyes before you shake it off.

"yeah, that'd be great, actually, thanks" you get in the back of the car, a grumbled scoff coming from Dean.

the moment he turns on the car, metallica 'sad but true' comes blasting throught the speakers, and you bob your head along the beat.

"ah, i see you actually have style! you know what, you can drive with us whenever you want" Dean says with a shit eating grin, earning and eyeroll from Sam.

"right, so she likes your music, and suddenly its all fine?" he scoffs and looks out of the window.

you can't stop the fluttering feeling in your chest.

maybe, for once, hunting can bring you something good, something better than just saving people.

maybe it can bring you your best ally you'll ever gain.

maybe it'll grant you a lover.

little do you know, that Sam is looking at you through the mirror, admiration apparent in his gaze, and he looks away again. he looks at Dean, who gives him a knowing look.

his brother is down bad already.

[tossball-stick]

heyy i saw your latest post about john's aromantic trutherism and i didn't exactly understand what you mean by that... could you explain? i too don't think he is actually in love with abigail if that's what you were saying...?

hiii!!! 1: thank you for asking about this im excited to write and analyze him in this way

2: plsplspls get the idea outta ur head that aromantic people cant love. noooo i couldnt have been misunderstood more. i wanna clarify that i do think john loves abigail. i just dont think that love is all that romantically motivated and ive got a few reasons to believe so.

3: uhhhh uhhh this ended up being like 2.5k words of analysis on john im sorry. no one on tumblr has asked me my thoughts about him before so this is the first time im talking about a lot of the stuff here and theres so much ive thought about johns character and its all messy and intertwined. itll be a little all over the place. i am deeply sorry.

okay. first reason? hes otherwise not much of a romantic. whether he wants to be or not, he falls flat on his face every attempt there is at being romantic with abigail (rarely do we see him be romantic with other women) is usually met with disdain, if there even are many to begin with. its rare to hear john say something pleasant about having a woman, and its rare to ever witness them having a good time together while in the gang. 

...up until the epilogue and john gets his shit together. but by that point i could argue further analysis as to how john isnt wholly himself by that point. hear me out.

john and arthur are two halves of one whole to me. its clear theres some sort of void in john after arthur dies, and he still holds the memory of arthur very very dear. he does his best to keep the memories alive, in fact, in a way to keep arthur alive. 

this starts extending to some kinda interesting parallels, though. writing and drawing in arthurs journal like he did, the hat being placed on johns head, john proposing with marys ring, the phrasing and tone of johns proposal is also shockingly familiar to arthur telling john that itd make him happy if john went to his family... after arthurs death, i find john taking on many of his traits even. he becomes more quiet and closed off, we see it even in rdr2 with arthur telking him to "knock it off with the whole being mysterious thing" or whatever. arthur claims its to act like dutch, but ill do you one better, its clearly just john idolizing his older brother and trying to be like him to be a proper man. this brings me to my next point...

the time period of rdr2!!! yayyy cowboys, the victorian era, Did u know. being a man was something you had to do in previous american and european cultures? this slowly started fading as we roll over into the 20th century, but there was a lot of emphasis placed on performing your role as a man. to be a good man, you must do xyz. otherwise, you are seen as immature, as a boy, as a child. 

throughout the entire series of red dead redemption, both 1 and 2, theres a lot of stuff pointing towards jogns struggle to Be A Man. arthur and dutch frequently refuse to let him grow up, still calling him "little john" and still treating him like hes a rowdy unruly boy that needs to learn better, not a man who should know better. hosea is the only man treating john like hes a man, and even then id say hes fairly lax with the guy. only as the story of rdr2 progresses do we see arthur start to shift his view towards john. not as a boy to stay a boy, because the gang isnt gonna be around forever. john cant keep being a boy. he needs to become a man, take care of his family. 

working off a distinctly gentleman influenced view of masculinity, johns inability to be a man is almost directly tied to his inability to be a proper romantic for his wife. compared to arthur, who is seen taken women on dates and flirting with them just to make them laugh at times. hes dancing with the ladies and helping them up and down the coaches, wagons, and horses. john like. just barely remembers to do that for abi in the epilogue. again, his failings to be a true romantic are tied with his failings as a man. 

in rdr1, this even extends to bill having the bit of dialogue, "you always were a scared little boy!" continuing to imply that john is not a man, hes never been a man. the only reason we can read him as a man Now is because we are going by arthurs definition of manhood. we can extend this further and say bill still views john as a boy because john does not live up to bills expectations of manhood- while arthur may view being a man as something chivalrous, more gentlemanly, bill clearly views masculinity as power and violence, without much to do with women. john does not live up to that, to bill, until the end.

if you read "masculinity" as "being romantic and chivalrous towards women", then, as john fails at being a romantic, he too fails at being a man. there are a lot of other ways john is immature and childish but this is a really easy one to point out if you know the time period and just how much emphasis was placed on both romanticism and manliness, and how they intertwined.

third reasoning for aro john: his family wasnt his for so much of his life. this one is another one that needs a bit of elaboration i fear.

the story of john and abigail getting together is simple enough. she joined the gang at 17 as a sex worker, slept around with some of the gang, then for one reason or another, very clearly believed that the pregnancy was johns. john runs away for a year.

in this time, we dont know a whole lot about what gang life was like without john. however, with arthurs comments about marrying abigail himself and loving her, and his close relationship with jack, i think its pretty clear arthur was the one being a man in johns place. when john left, there was a john shaped hole arthur had to fill. (i also like to think this because the potential misery of arthur having to lose his family a second time once john returns is fun to me.)

even in the story of rdr2, we see john Love and Care For his family, but its never in the same, romantic way arthur seems to involve himself in abi and jacks lives. john will defend them with his life, but when it actually comes to pulling himself up by his bootstraps and being a father or a husband, he kinda just drags his feet and gets lost. he has to be told to reunite with his family at jacks party, despite, in my eyes, his love for jack being very clearly displayed while they were looking for him. 

this is only bolstered by the conclusion of rdr2, with john and arthur on the mountain. arthur, in all his holy parallels, like jesus passing the virgin mary off to john the beloved, arthur tells john it would make him very happy if [john] went to be with his family and left. arthur is passing his family off onto john, the same as jesus passed his family onto saint john. (this one hits harder if you know the rest of the "arthur is jesus" parallels and symbolism but i feel like those would be more impactful as a web weave, and i cant make one right now haha. most obvious one i can think of to support this though is arthur being a scapegoat, dying for the gangs sins.) remember these points they are the most important and will come back later.

reason number four: "but javier-!" shhhhshshsh lemme talk. yes. john is infinitely more intimate with javier than abigail. however, again, we must take the time period into account.

not that far off from many disgusting redpill communities today, back in the 1800s it was typically expected for men to socialize with men and women with women. there was a certain level of bonding you only had with your wife, as well as a certain level of bonding you only had with the men who were close to you. 

i have got to grab this fandom by the shoulders and say rockstar did not make these men as affectionate as they should have been with each other, and thats completely platonically. this is taking romance out of the equation, these men considered each other brothers and family. they were all in a cult together. they would have been very close, and also very affectionate! they would confide in each other and hold each other and cry to each other. they would make gifts for each other and sing and dance together. you can at least see them all pass around beer bottles between each other.

do i think john and javier are closer than most? yes absolutely. do i think javier is in love with john in some way? yes absolutely. do i think its romantic? ehhh maybe. do i think john loves javier? yes absolutely. do i think its romantic? ....noo not really. their whole dynamic reads as one sided through and through to me. even if they ever got together im sure they were quickly apart again, and i doubt the relationship would have been fulfilling in the ways javier would want, leaving him longing still.

the "ive always loved you, even now" immediately funneling into a crate being shoved onto john to knock him over can also be metaphorical- javiers love is disarming to john Because he does not know how to react to it. hes never known how to react to it. hes never known how to react to love from anyone, because "love" seems to feel so much different for everyone but him.

reason ff. fiiiiive. dear god. im sorry for this being this long: john loves. he clearly loves very hard. he was clearly wrecked by arthurs death, he would clearly crawl through hell for his family, he was clearly hurt because his love for javier eventually stabbed him in the back. however, to me, a lot of this love feels similar to the love john has for dutch, or arthur, really. its familial, its platonic, it sure as hell isnt romantic. (even if the games themselves like to joke about it being so lol.)

its just clear to me that he loves. he cant not love jack and abi after everything hes done for them. he cant not love javier after being so close for so long. but in the same vein, he cant not love dutch for the same reasons. ysee what i mean? his devotion to his wife and child feels identical to the devotion to dutch, compared to arthur, whos devotion to eliza and isaac directly went against his devotion to dutch.

much like with dutch, where john was still seen as a boy, he will ferociously do the big things for his family (saving jack, defending the ranch, tackling gangsters and robbers). he will almost always fail to do the little things that would make him a true man, though. yknow. winding down, relaxing, just working, not getting involved in fights. spending some time with his family maybe. 

he can shape up and be good, he just never does. 

and i think thats why hes so torn between leaving on his own, leaving with his family, or staying with the gang. theres no difference between romantic, platonic, or familial love for him. when arthur tells him to go be with his family and john replies "youre my brother" its not only announcing arthur as family, but i think it only reinforces that blurred line of what love is for john. "i love you the same as them, why must i leave you behind? if they are family and i love them, then you too must be family, for i love you."

point six: i hope you remembered the first few points like i told you to. you did remember right

this brings us back around to john not being a man by not being a romantic, arthurs family being passed off to him, and also john not wholly being himself later on. in the epilogue, between 1899 and 1908, we hear about how john has been unable to avoid trouble and has them on the run still. whenever abigail asks something of him, he instead goes and does what he wants. its only after she leaves him (ultimate failure of being a man) do we see him start to shape himself up again, and i would argue this shaping up increases substantially after he reunites with charles. charles sets him on the right path and reawakens that memory of arthur. i imagine being close to blackwater also helps here. id argue due to charles' apparent closeness with arthur, and then sudden closeness to john due to john being all thats left of arthur... it makes john also feel like hes all thats left of arthur. i believe after speaking with charles and thinking to himself, he decides to fulfill the one dream arthur had, seemingly, at the end: take care of the family he had lost. well, eliza and isaac are six feet in the dirt so next best option: abi and jack. 

john starts to become quieter and more in his own shell- by rdr1 hes struggling to even really ask people for help with the most basic things. he becomes a lot more of a romantic speaker. he had always used fancy words with the gang, but never with charismatic purpose in the way i feel he does in rdr1. he starts making the decisions he thinks arthur would make. as a result, the hole that arthur left behind when he died, does not get filled by john. instead it simply gets filled with whatever arthur john can muster from within himself.

id also like to bring up john being the favorite, but not the golden boy. he was the youngest and most spoiled, but he was not the one dutch turned to for just about everything. he was still living in arthurs shadow, so i imagine all of that also plays a role in johns choice to live like arthur to get his family back, to be a man. he failed at being a man by his own merits. arthur was a real man by his own merits, lets just do what we've always done and look up to our older brother about it. copy what he does. clearly hes got it all figured out, even though you know he didnt, after reading the journal. 

this all is finally bolstered by john making the choice to kill micah and repeat the VDL cycle of violence, which ruins the perfect life he made for himself. he makes another decision HE, not arthur, HE would make, and thus has to deal with the consequences. 

in conclusion: i think john loves a lot and very hard. hes passionate about these people. but in his own words towards javier that start to become readable as projection, "hes a cynic that wants to be a romantic" and "hes all passion, no love ('no love' being how he perceives it, due to the views of those around him. he loves abigail and jack, he loved arthur, though because his version of love was different than theirs, its not read as love. therefore, he has none in his own eyes)." 

all of this coupled with a detached attachment style that leaves him cold and distant leaves him being tugged along in romances he truthfully does not feel the same about. he says he does, because he loves, but he doesnt know why the love isnt the same. so, clearly, since he loves, he must want the romance. he has to perform it for love regardless of if he truly does want romance or not. if he loves, he must be a romantic, and hes failing at being a romantic, so he cant be himself. he must be someone else in order to convey his love to his family.

i hope i got everything across alright ^-^ feel free to ask questions or send more asks ive got plenty more where that came from