#Angsty fluff

[motorsportbarbie13]

Hiiiii couldn’t help but see you do requests, could you do something where after a hard race reader placed on the podium but felt sick and Max catches her when she collapsed after getting out of the car? Maybe with the words "I can't... my legs... everything's tingling..." and him being super worried. Basically a little angsty with a fluffy end where he’s checking on her, can be established relationship or not.

OH ANON. this was so fun.

Enjoy!

Heatstroke In which, as it turns out, Max wasn't just 'Maxplaining' the difficulty of Singapore to you after all

Pairing: Max Verstappen X FerarriDriver!Reader Warnings: fainting, getting sick/weak, max being a knight in shining armor. Word count: 2.2k Masterlist

Max tried to warn you. Lando tried to warn you. Checo and Lewis had tried to warn you. Hell, the entire fucking grid had tried to warn you that Singapore was a different beast. You had thought they were just coddling you and being over dramatic, as the boys tended to be with you. It was a hazard of being the only woman on the grid, which frankly, drove you bat shit crazy because you had earned your way into the red Ferrari seat next to Charles on your own, thank you very much. You didn’t need to be coddled and you didn’t need to be warned off anything. 

But they were right. 

Singapore was a different beast. 

The heat during the day was oppressive but at night? There wasn’t any relief once the intense sun went down either. You were from Michigan though, that midwestern state being famous for its hot and sticky summers so you had thought you’d been prepared.

As you claimed into your sleek red car, lining up P3 behind Max and Lando though you knew you were in trouble before the green flag waved. The thing about sweating in the humidity like this is that there’s no where for the moisture on your skin to go, the air already too heavy so that slick sweat sticks to you, making you even hotter than before. 

“Fuck, this is going to be brutal.” You mumble, hoping that the braid you tied your hair in would stay for the entirety of the race. Suddenly, shaving your hair into a pixie cut like Fred had been suggesting (mostly jokingly) for weeks seemed like a good idea.  

The formation lap is fine. 

The first ten laps are fine, if not a little squirrely thanks to your car being wildly loose. 

The first fifteen laps are fine, if not a bit hot. 

But on lap 23? All hell breaks loose. 

First, your hydration system fails and you’re completely unable to get any water through the tiny straw that you usually flip into your mouth on the straightaway, just like Danny taught you. You’re sweating up a storm with no way to replenish those valuable electrolytes. 

Then, you’re so busy focusing on the fact that you’d give your first born child for a sip of water you nearly slam into the same exact wall that took George out on the last lap of last year’s race. You yank the steering wheel around so hard, you feel something in your wrist pop. The searing pain causes you to over correct and you nearly drive right into your own fucking teammate. 

“Fuck. Tell Charlie I’m sorry.” You groan over the radio, telling your engineer to pass on the message to Charles. 

“Focus on your race.” Your engineer tells you, voice obviously strained just as yours is. “Charles is fine.” 

Well, I sure as fuck am not fine. You think as you fight the car down towards the starting line. 

On lap 45, you’re granted a reprieve when a Sauber goes into the wall, bringing out a yellow flag. The leaders all duck into the pits, including yourself. There’s nothing anyone can do about your water situation and at this point, your instincts have kicked it. 

Max was right and you knew it. Singapore was hell. He had tried to tell you last night, as you had been snuggled up in bed with him, a ritual that you both had become dependent on this season. It seemed cliche, you falling for one of your rivals. You hated it but there was no denying that there was a magnetic chemistry between the two of you that had started the moment you had met last year while you were still driving in F2. 

You had resisted his charm for a while but things had taken a turn the night it was announced you’d be driving for Ferrari alongside Charles. Several of the drivers that lived in Monaco full time insisted on taking you to Jimmy Z’s to celebrate and who were you to say no to a bunch of handsome men paying for your drinks? 

The night ended just as you might expect it: Max drunkenly confessing his year-long crush on you and you drunkenly kissing him in a dark alleyway as you waited for your Uber. What had started off as a drunken confession and your reckless response that wasn’t supposed to mean anything had turned into one of the greatest things that has ever happened to you. Max and you? The pair of you were endgame. 

But none of that mattered now. Not here, in the raging heat and humidity of Singapore. You knew that Max was going to give you shit for not being better prepared the moment you got out of the car. You knew you were in for an ‘I told you so’ lecture on the plane ride back in the morning. You knew Max was right and you had been stupid to underestimate the power this track had over drivers. 

Looking back on your first race in Singapore years later, you don’t quite know how you managed to finish those last laps. Pure determination and stubbornness, Max would insist later on that night. But before you’re able to fully wrap your head around how dangerous of a situation you’d gotten yourself into, the checkered flag is waving and you’ve crossed the finish line in P3, right behind Lando and Max. 

Your third podium of the year. If you had been more coherent, you probably would have been elated. But all you could think about as you pulled your car into parc ferme, right behind that little cardboard 3 sign, was the ice bath you knew was waiting for you somewhere in the paddock. 

Your red racing suit is soaked through and through, you can feel it before you even get out of the car. It takes a mammoth effort to pull the steering wheel out of it’s dock and for a moment, you worry you’re so weak you can’t even do that. In front of you, you see Lando pop out of the car in the P1 spot, elated to have won with a healthy margin of over 20 seconds for the second time that season. 

Max is out of the car too, albeit a bit slower than Lando. There’s a distant buzzing in your ear that sounds eerily like your engineer’s voice asking if you’re okay. But you’re completely unable to focus on anything beyond the tingling sensation in your legs. This wasn’t something you’d ever felt inside a race car in all your years of driving. Everything stung, like a million little fire ants were making a meal out of your flesh. It took every ounce of strength, of which you didn’t have much, to hoist yourself up out of the car. 

Your head swims the moment you stand up straight, and you feel your legs collapse under you. Somewhere off in the distance, you hear Max calling your name but you can’t look up, your helmet suddenly feeling like it weighs 300 pounds. 

Crouching in your car, you desperately try to pull yourself together before anyone notices you’re struggling. You didn’t want to give the media the satisfaction of pulling another ‘look, another woman who thinks she can hang with the rest of the F1 drivers.’ Like they’ve been attempting to do all season. 

Your eyes are closed but you still hear the faint call of Max’s voice somewhere off in the distance. The entire world is reduced down to a singular pin prick of light while you fight to stay conscious, the heat and humidity wrapping their ugly little fingers tightly around your throat. 

Just as you’re about to surrender to the warm quiet of the darkness that seems to be calling out to you, a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, hauling you out of the car like you weigh less than a bag of potatoes. You go limp in the arms of whoever has come to your rescue, collapsing under the strain of what you just put your body though. 

“Baby, please. Look at me.” 

Somehow, your helmet has been removed and you find yourself blinking up at Max. 

When did he get here? You wonder idly, not realizing it was him that pulled you out of the car. 

Max had gone practically feral when GP told him that you’d gone nearly 3/4 of the race without water. He knew how brutal this race was, and the humidity was unusually high tonight. He had gotten out of the car fairly quickly but had panicked when he saw your helmet tipped forward, resting on the halo device and you not moving. 

You lift your head, still wondering where your helmet was and instantly found yourself staring straight into the baby blue eyes of your boyfriend. “Maxie?” You croak, throat feeling like you just dined on a three course meal of sand and gravel. 

“Hey…” He coos, bringing you closer to his chest. “There’s my girl. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He rubs soothing circles over your back, not caring that the press is having a field day with this. 

“I can’t…” You stutter, struggling to make the words in your head sound coherent when your mouth tries to form them. “My legs…everything is tingling.” 

If you had been a bit more coherent, you would’ve seen the look of absolute panic cross Max’s face. He frantically looks around as he lifts you into his arms, one arm under your knees, the other cradling your back against his chest. He knew you were going to absolutely murder him when you come around and see the pictures. You hated being coddled and hated showing affection on the grid even more. You and Max weren’t really hiding the fact that you were together, most fans knew and it was common knowledge around the paddock but the causal fan might be surprised to find out the lore between the two of you. So this outright show of concern, affection, and panic over the state of you that Max was showing right now? It was absolutely not a common occurrence 

“Interviews are going to have to wait.” Max barks at Jensen, this weeks post-race presenter. “She needs medical attention.” 

Jensen simply nods, allowing you to pass. 

Fred and Charles intercept you half way to the tent, insisting that getting you in the ice baths will be the thing to help you the most. Max, nearly delirious with worry because while your eyes were open and you were somewhat alert, follows their instructions and takes you back behind the garage area where the ice baths had been set up. 

It’s all you can do to stand upright as Max unzips your race suit. It’s so heavy with your sweat that it practically peels off of you with no effort, gravity doing the work for Max. And then your left in just your fireproofs. If you hadn’t been in the middle of the paddock with thousands of people and cameras around, Max would have stripped you down to just your underwear, but that wasn’t an option. 

WIth Max and Charles’ help, you’re able to hoist yourself into the waiting ice bath. The shock of the frigid water jolts some awareness back into you the moment your body is submerged in the glacial water. 

“Holy fuck.” You grit out, eyes closing in pain. 

“I know…I know, schatje. But it’ll get you feeling better so much quicker than anything else. 

You nod, still not fully aware of how you got here but thankful for Max’s steadying presence beside you. He’s crouched down so he’s eye level with you as you ball yourself up to get as much heated skin under the cold water and the worry etched all over his face is enough to steal your breath. 

“Max. Holy fuck. That was…you weren’t just Maxsplaining to me last night, were you?” 

A chuckle finds its way out of his lips, despite the state of panic Max is in. “No, I was not just ‘Maxsplaining’ anything last night, silly girl.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You’ve got your fire back, I see. I think you’ll live.” Max leans in to press a kiss to the crown of your head before dropping another kiss on your temple, then your cheek, and finally his lips find their home on yours. Right where they belong. It’s not a lingering kiss, or a passionate one. No. This kiss is filled with gratitude and relief and sheer dumb realization of how much this man loves you. 

Your eyes are open more now, a few minutes in the ice bath doing your heat stroke symptoms good. It takes you a few moments to really grasp the severity of what just happened. How close you came to passing out mid-race. How it was Max that got you out of that car and was at your side before anyone else. 

All around you, the paddock is bustling to life. The scene Max created by hauling you over to Ferrari’s garages has somewhat dissipated. Only a few onlookers are stopped still, but your team remains solidly around you, faces a mask of concern. But the only person you see is Max. 

“Thank you, baby.” You murmur when he leans in for another kiss. 

“Anything for you, schatje.” He rasps, emotion clawing at his throat. “Anything.” 

[breathinlove]

sleepin next to her ellie williams drabble

read this

synopsis: u met ellie after the epilogue, now she's ur gf and u 2 deal w ur past trauma and sleeping problems.

cw: poor, like v poor, writing. fluff as usual!!! not angst but angsty? not so healthy attachment id say haha...

a/n: heavily inspired by back to you by frank ocean ft nikki flores and in a good way by faye webster!!!

ellie had already gone through so much when u met her, alone and hopeless like a lost child. over time u and ellie became each other's safe place, each other's comfort. so much u could say u were clingy as hell...

u were both always scared, of everything, but mostly of losing each other. that was a constant in ur relationship, which took time to begin, ellie was terrified of being in a relationship, of getting attached to someone, of happiness, comfort and loving. u were scared that u scared her too, that she'd run away from u and from ur feelings.

she wasn't scared of u though. she yearned to be next to u, all the time. she'd leave the house thinking about coming back to u, she'd get food thinking about sharing it with u. she'd go to sleep, hoping u'd feature her dreams.

her dreams, ellie had constant nightmares. reminders of her past and tellings of her future, she was also scared to sleep. u'd always fall asleep first, but u felt guilty u did so, because u knew of her nightmares. u had night terrors, waking up in fear, guilt and worry. u loved ur girl too much to ever leave her by herself.

"i'm okay... u can go back to sleep, babe." she'd kiss ur forhead and soothe ur face with her calloused hands, calming u down in seconds and sending all the fears away.

she'd sing song her own lyrics to u as u fell back asleep. u and ellie never slept with ur backs turned to each other, face to face. she was the first thing u saw in the morning and u were the first thing she saw, nevermind the sun rising behind u, she'd never notice, u are her sourse of light. she'd forget all about the dark future she thought waited for her, because she saw a bright one on your face.

when she wasn't able to fall asleep, she'd just watch u sleep, making sure u felt safe. sometimes u'd force her to close her eyes and grab her hands, caressing her palms, fingers and the knuckles on her missing ones. u kissed every scar as u loved her entirely. two grown ups still acting like kids, clinged to each other as if u were each other's teddy bear.

[ericityyy]

Hi :D I was wondering if we could have a georgie cooper x reader where the reader comes from a family of pagans so they’re perceived as kinda freakish by most of the town and georgie develops a crush on her?

please, and thank you

𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘈 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘧𝘴, 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵? 𝘖𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤?

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘖𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘈𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 ����𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2,552

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

“Hi, I know we’re not close, but would you like to come to my birthday this Saturday?"

The girl who was asked looked at her friends while trying to stifle their laughter. “I’m sorry, I would love to, but I can't,” the girl finally said before walking out with her friends, laughing on the way.

"Oh, uhm, that’s okay.” Y/N sighed sadly when she crossed out another name on her list, looking at all the other crossed-out names. “I guess it’s just me again.” The girl smiled bitterly while deciding to sit on the stairs, observing how students come and go from room to room.

The bell rang, and all the students, one by one, went their own way. The girl, after seeing the last student go inside a classroom, waited for a minute or two before going to her own subject.

"Ah, Ms. L/N, care to explain why you’re late today?” Miss Ingram, the math teacher of Medford High School, paused with her writing and turned her full focus on the girl who just entered, making the other students turn their attention as well to the girl.

Y/N was about to answer before she was cut off by one of the football players of the school, “Maybe she was doing her voodoo freakshow to make us like her.” The class laughed except the Cooper brothers, one because he did not get the joke, while the other because the ‘joke’ was not funny.

“What do you mean by making us like her?” The girl that Y/N invited earlier frowned at the jock as she turned her attention once again to the standing girl. “It clearly didn’t work.”

Ms. Ingram pointed at the students angrily, “You better shut all your mouths before I make you all go to the principal’s office.” Least to say, they ignored her.

Y/N, too embarrassed to move, stayed in her position with tears gathering up in her eyes. “Oh no! Careful! You’re going to make her angry and take revenge on us!” The same girl pretended to act scared and put the back of her hand on her forehead, causing more laughter to erupt from the class.

A loud screech from a chair made the laughter stop as Georgie stood up and approached the embarrassed and humiliated girl. Offering her a napkin from his pocket and smiling softly at her.

Y/N is surprised, to say the least. Her glossy eyes looked at him with confusion and shock. No one has ever been nice to her at school before. Heck, no one has been nice to her during her, period. With the exception of her family, of course, and some old neighbors of theirs, but that was it.

Georgie then looked at the class with fury in his eyes and said, “Anybody wants to say something else?” No one answered for a minute when Sheldon raised his hand. The older Cooper boy rolled his eyes at his little brother and said, “Not now, Sheldon.” The said boy looked flabbergasted at first before slowly lowering his hand down.

“Ms. Ingram, if it’s okay, I’d like to take Y/N out of the class for a moment," Georgie politely asked the teacher, who smiled sympathetically at the girl.

Sympathy. Not many like to be pitied, but this moment brings comfort to Y/N to think that somebody actually cared enough to feel sympathy for her.

“Go ahead, Georgie.” The teacher then turned her eyes back to the class. “While I will bring some students on a field trip to the principal’s office myself, how does that sound?” Ms. Ingram smiled wickedly at the now cowering students.

While Sheldon smiled excitedly, “Oh boy! The principal’s office.”

"Oh, you’re not going, Sheldon.”

“Aww”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

Y/N fiddled with her pendant nervously, occasionally looking at the boy pressing on the vending machine as she sat patiently on the bench nearby. The two of them are alone currently at the hall.

A hand with a drink was thrust in her direction, particularly in her line of vision. Y/N looked up and saw Georgie’s smiling face. She meekly took the drink from him and drank it, looking down at the bottle and staying quiet.

Georgie, knowing not to push her into talking, sat down beside her, with a good amount of space left between them, and drank from his own drink. His cool demeanor contrasts with the way his heart is beating. He took a big gulp from his drink to calm his rapid heart. Alas, it didn’t work at all.

Being with the girl he has been admiring all year and sitting beside her is doing something to him. He flinched a little when he heard her speak.

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled shyly at his direction, “from kind of saving me back there." She then lifted up the drink with her hand, “and for the free drink." She returned her attention back to the napkin that she'd been gripping, “and for the napkin. I promise I’ll give it back to you soon.”

Georgie shrugged coolly from beside her. “It’s all good; as long as there’s no harm done to my napkin, it’s all good.”

Y/N furrowed her brows together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The boy then widened his eyes, realizing that his words might be a little offensive given the situation that happened earlier. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that." He was cut off when the girl laughed a little.

“I was just joking, Georgie.”

Georgie breathed a sigh of relief, shaking his head playfully at the girl who fully smiled at him. His smile, though, turned down a little. "So, how are you? With all that?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, hurt gracing her features. “Y'know, disappointed but not really surprised. It’s how people see me, my family.” She fiddled with her pendant once again, making Georgie’s attention turn to her hand. “I don’t mind being called a witch, y'know; it’s just—when people use the word in a bad way and call me and my family a freak just... hurts.”

She smiled bitterly. “It’s not like I’ll do something to them; it’s my beliefs, and I don’t need them to be friends with me; I just need them to be open-minded to it.” Y/N dropped the pendant, letting it hang around her neck, before releasing a big sigh.

Georgie looked at the girl softly, scooching closer to her, which the girl took notice of and said, “Well, I’ll be your first audience.” Y/N slowly smiled at that, nudging her shoulder to his. “I think paganism is an interesting belief; would you mind explaining it to me?” Georgie asked the girl, hopefully. In his case, it really is an interesting religion; he didn’t just say that to ‘get the girl’.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled at that before an idea came to her mind: “I’m actually having this small party at my house this Saturday; it’s my—“

“Birthday, yeah, I know.”

The girl blinked multiple times, snapping out of it. “I was wondering if you, I don’t know, would like to come?”

Georgie nodded his head without even letting the girl finish, “I would be honored to, ma’am.” He held her hand in his, raising it up to his lips and letting it touch the back of her hand softly.

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

On Saturday, Georgie made sure to look presentable before going to Y/N’s place. And that means taking a long shower, shaving, spraying cologne, and putting on his best outfit. By that, it meant that he looked anywhere for his best outfit; there’s currently a mountain of clothes on his bed.

He styled his hair perfectly and looked for any creases on his shirt. Once he’s done, he exits his room and takes his car keys before going to the front door. “I’m going out for a bit!"

“Now, hold on a second there, mister.” Mary walked into the living room and stopped her son from further going out the door. “Where do you think you’re going, Georgie?”

Georgie released the door knob to properly face his mother and said, “A friend’s house.”

Mary smiled teasingly. "Oh, is this friend a girl?”

“Yes.”

Mary then dropped her smile after learning about this new bit of information. “Then why are you going to her house? Are her parents there? Is she your girlfriend? Who is she anyway? When am I going to meet her?”

Georgie sighed, rolling his eyes at his mother before answering all of her questions: “It’s her birthday. Yes. No, although I plan to court her someday. She’s Y/N L/N. I don’t know when she’s okay with it.” He looked at the watch on his wrist before facing the door once more. “I’ll get going; I don’t want to be late.”

After her son left the house, Mary was left shocked. “Did he just say L/N? Oh Lord, bless his heart and guide him through this.”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

Georgie wiped his hands and touched his hair to make sure it stayed put and not a strand was out of place. “You can do this,” he repeated to himself before knocking on the door.

The door opened up, revealing an older woman around her mid-40s. "Well, hello there, you must be Georgie.” She opened the door more to offer the teenager a handshake. “I’m Y/N’s mom; please come in, dear.”

Georgie shook her hand before entering the new home, a gift in his hand. It wasn’t really a big gift, and it made him nervous about whether she'd like it. The L/N’s house is a simple two-story house with a few plants inside and paintings hanging on the walls.

“Y/N! Dear, you have a visitor!”

“Coming!” And then she walked in the living room, with this simple blue summer dress and her hair done, with her pendant hanging around her neck. “Hi, Georgie. Thank you so much for coming.” Y/N walked over to the gawking teenager, his mouth left agape as he stuttered out a response.

“Hi—this gift... for you.” Georgie gave his gift to the girl. “I mean, this is my gift for you. Happy Birthday, Y/N." He nervously chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “It’s nothing much really, just a simple one. I hope you like it.”

Y/N took the gift and opened it, revealing a bracelet—an engraved bracelet with the runic letters spelling her name. “Oh my—Georgie, where did you buy this? I love it; thank you so much.” She hugged him, which left the boy more speechless than he ever was.

"Oh, it’s all good. I’m not sure about the spelling of the name, so if it’s wrong, I can fix it."

"Wait, wait, what do you mean fix it? You made this? ”

Georgie looked at the girl for a moment before shyly nodding his head. Their stare was broken by a flash, and the two of them looked to the side where they saw Y/N holding a camera in her hand. “I just ruined the moment, didn’t I?” She slowly put down the camera, smiling sheepishly at the pair. “Sorry.”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

“So what’s your plan for the future, Georgie?” Y/N’s dad asked the boy as they ate.

Georgie swallowed the food before answering, “I actually don’t know yet, sir, but I would love to have my own business someday.” He picked up a glass for him to drink and said, “To be honest, I’m not that great at school, not like my little brother, Sheldon, so I don’t plan on going to college, but I would like to build my own business.”

“A business, huh? Well, you can tell me how I’ll help you, son; I’ll sponsor you as long as I can.” The man smiled at the young boy who beamed at him. “But you have to prove to me that my help wouldn’t be futile.”

"Yes, sir, I won’t let you down.”

Y/N smiled at the two of them, but not until her father asked what religion Georgie is. The teenagers looked at each other first before the girl let Georgie answer.

“I’m actually Christian; my mother is religious and all that, but I am not a full believer," Georgie answered truthfully, hoping that his religion wouldn’t be a problem to him courting Y/N in the eyes of her family.

“Oh, it’s fine if you don’t fully believe it if it doesn’t feel right with you," Y/N’s mom said with the girl’s dad nodding his head along with her. “We, pagans, are different from each other. Like Y/N here, for example, she believes more in the Norse gods but worships them a bit differently than traditional worship.” The woman pointed to her daughter, who smiled shyly, “She’s considered to be an Eclectic Pagan.”

Georgie takes in the new information and says, “That’s cool. Do you guys like to recruit or something?"

This time it was Y/N who answered, "No, no, we do not ‘recruit’, we let people do it of their own free will. Pagans tend to believe in many gods and goddesses, while some believe only in one; other pagans can believe in your God if they choose to.”

“Woah, that’s really interesting.” Georgie’s mind was prepared to ask more questions to the family, who, by the way, are happy to answer them.

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

“Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. and Mrs. L/N," Georgie said as they walked him to the front door as nightfall had already come.

Y/N’s mom moved to hug the boy and say, “No, thank you for being a part of my daughter’s birthday.” She pulled away with teary eyes, then whispered, “You have my blessing, by the way, to court her.” The woman winked at the stunned teenager.

“I won’t hurt her, I promise.”

“Oh Georgie, pain is part of love; as long as you treat her like she deserves and have proper communication with her, all is well.” Y/N’s mom caressed his cheek before pulling away to let him and her husband talk.

“Remember what we talked about, son. I’ll help you as long as you help yourself too.” Y/N’s father shook hands with the Cooper boy, who nodded his head at him eagerly. “I trust you won’t screw this up, both the business and my daughter.” He raised a brow to the teenager, who just let out a chuckle nervously.

“Dad!”

“I’m only joking, sweetie, right, Georgie?”

"Yes, sir, of course.”

The parents walked off to give the two some privacy. The teenagers walked outside as they stood there on the porch, with the only light being the porchlight. “I’d like to thank you for coming to my birthday and celebrating it with me. And for the gift. And for everything else.”

Georgie just smiled and nodded his head behind her. “I’m actually glad that your parents liked me.”

“Of course they would; what’s not to like?” Y/N unconsciously said before gasping when she realized what she said.

The boy started grinning boyishly, “Well, I best be on my way, ma’am.” He lifted her hand once again and kissed the back of it; he put it down but was still not releasing it. “Happy Birthday again, Y/N.”

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

I tried to make this as accurate as possible. Clearly, I am not a Pagan, but I tried to research and study more about the religion but please, correct me if I’m wrong.

How about a part 2? Where the Cooper Family met Pagan!reader? Let me know what you think about that.

[sparklefics]

Losing you

Bucky & avenger!reader

WC: 1,185

Summary: a near death experience puts things in perspective.

Warnings: near death experience (not detailed tho), mentions of injury and blood. Language!

I wrote a thing!! It’s been months since I’ve been inspired/ had time to write. Here’s a little angsty fluff.

Gif not mine.

[Masterlist]

Since you joined the team you’ve gotten along with everyone. Missions are successful at least 90 percent of the time.

For the last nine months you’ve been partnering up with Bucky. He’s damn good at his job and you get along just fine, at least when you’re on the field.

Off the field is an entirely different story.

It’s not so much that you don’t get along, it’s just you don’t hang out outside of work. The only time you ‘hang out’ is during training.

You wouldn’t consider him a friend— at least not like Sam is. Bucky is merely your teammate, your partner.

Normally Bucky is cool, calm and collected until the day you get hurt in the field.

“Star, come in.” Bucky speaks through the comms but is only met with silence so he tries again. “Agent Star, come in!”

Star is the code name Sam gave you when you joined his crusade as Captain America. He liked to joke around about his Stars and Stripes and the Sentinel of Liberty, respectively you, Joaquin and Bucky.

Bucky turns back to the last checkpoint and his body goes rigid as he takes in the scene before him. There you are laying on a puddle of blood—yours, he realizes.

He doesn’t take the time to over analyze what went down, all he cares about right now is getting you to safety.

—————

It’s scary to put so much on someone. To let them be your everything, he hadn’t realized that was what had happened. To him you were just his partner.

Until he almost lost you.

That’s when he realized what’s really at stake here. Not only your life, but his happiness.

—————

Three days, that’s how long it takes for you to wake up.

“Ow. That hurt.” You groan and hear Sam chuckle, when you bat your eyes open you see Bucky storming out of the room.

“That’s not funny, Star.” Sam says. “You scared us. How come you didn’t call for backup?”

“How long was I out?”

“Three days. And yes, he was here the whole time, barely got him to eat and shower.”

“Where’s Stripes?” You deflect and ask about Joaquin.

“Coffee run.” Sam stares towards the doorway and sighs. “Buck was the one that found you.”

“Hmm. I think he might be mad at me— you know for almost dying.”

“He’s entitled to that, you’re his partner after all.”

—————

Bucky never comes back to the med bay. In fact you don’t see him for weeks, until you’ve been given the all clear to go back out on the field.

You approach him silently at the gym while he’s pummeling a punching bag. Three bags already discarded after he ripped them open.

“Hey Liberty!”

“Don’t call me that. You know I fucking hate it.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Who said I was?” He turns around and you’re not ready for that tender look he gives you. A mixture of guilt that you almost died on his watch and something else you can’t pinpoint and it almost makes you think that he might actually care.

As scary as it was, almost dying put so much in perspective for you. First thing’s first, before you passed out on the field your very last thought was Bucky’s smile. That was strange…yes, he’s your partner but you were about to die and your last thought was of him not begging for help just one last smile of Bucky’s.

Secondly, it felt so off and hurtful seeing him walk out as soon as you woke up. You didn’t know why it hurt but the fact that it did meant that you wanted him there when you woke up. Or at least you expected him to be there, he is your partner after all.

You almost lost everything.

You almost lost him.

It’s infuriating how he managed to become something more than just your partner without you even realizing it. Though all your anger dissipates with the look he gives you. None of it matters when he’s looking at you and touching you so delicately.

Bucky traces a finger ever so delicately over the still fading bruise on your cheek bone.

You hadn’t realized he’d been standing so close to you. Or why the disheveled look he’s got going on looks so good on him. Has he ever looked better? Yes, but today he looks kinda hot and vulnerable, in a way that you just wanna comfort him, run your hands through his hair, cuddle the shit out of him.

Out of nowhere you grab his face and kiss him��� on the lips!

“You can’t blame me for that. I almost died.”

You murmured against his lips. And to your surprise he doesn’t pull back, instead he deepens the kiss.

“Shut up, I'm still mad at you.” He mumbles against your lips.

“Ha!” You pull back just enough to slap a hand on his chest. “I knew it! You are mad at me!”

Bucky pulls you right back to his arms and rests his forehead on yours. “I’m just…I can’t lose anyone else. Do you understand?”

You nod.

“I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at myself. You got hurt out there, I should’ve—”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, “James Buchanan Barnes it is not your fault I got hurt. I should’ve called for backup, it’s not your responsibility to keep me safe.”

“Yes it is. You’re my partner.”

“You say that like it means something else. What are you really trying to say, Sarge?”

As if the kiss you two shared hadn’t made it clear this certainly would.

“Star, you are everything to me.”

And your anger makes an appearance again, you pull away from him. “I’m finding that a little hard to believe, cause since I woke up all you’ve done is avoid me.”

“I’m just— seeing you there in a puddle of blood it fucked me up.”

“Waking up and seeing my partner walking out on me fucked me up. You were the last thing on my mind before I passed out. I was trying to call for— I was going to call for you when I blacked out. Then I wake up and see you walk out the door and never come back.”

This isn’t how Bucky pictured this moment. It should’ve gone like in the movies. You both admit your feelings, kiss and voila: happy ending. Not you angry at him, with unshed tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m an idiot that can’t handle his own feelings. But I love you. I need you to know that. I love you.” He squeezes your hands.

“That’s the thing Bubba, I love you too. So don’t you dare walk out on me ever again.”

You pull him in for a hug and you climb on him like a koala, arms around his shoulders and legs around his torso. He tells you he loves you again and assures you that he’s not going anywhere without you. “Well then, take me to my room. You owe me three weeks worth of cuddles.”

[natalievoncatte]

Something, some instinct, told Lena that she wasn’t alone. She wanted to blame it on the whisky, but it was better to check. She grabbed the gun from its hiding place beneath a pillow, where she kept it in case of an intruder.

She wasn’t sure why she did that now; she was, in theory, safe from her greatest enemy. After all, Lena had murdered him in cold blood. She’d killed her own brother for a monstrous lie, and while there was little to mourn -the man he was died years ago by his own hand- it hurt. It hurt so much that the pain squeezed out of every pore, until she awoke in the depths of the night thinking the hot stains on her cheeks might have been from crying blood.

The one person she had truly trusted, respected, revered-

(desired)

-was a lie, an illusion. At least Lex had, at one point, been real.

Lena scouted her apartment. It didn’t occur her to check the balcony until she was about to go to bed. She was on the thirty-sixth floor. No one could get up here.

Kara was outside.

She hasn’t landed; she was hanging in the air with her cape lazily swirling against her legs as she hung in the nighttime breeze. She was far enough away that Lena couldn’t get a read on her.

“What do you want?”

She drifted closer, in that unnerving way she had.

“Hi.”

Lena sighed, and waved a dismissive hand.

“Go away, Supergirl. I’m not in the mood for another speech.”

Lena turned back inside, but stopped when she felt the soft gust of wind. Kara was a few feet away from the balcony now, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

She hated how things had changed when Kara told her. She no longer saw Supergirl, just Kara in a costume. It was impossible not to see her, and yet for three long years she’d done just that. Blinded herself. Refused to see the bitter truth. All she’d ever wanted was a real friend

(lover)

who respected and admired

(and loved and cherished)

her and with whom she could share those feelings, and she’d really thought Kara was it. She was the best friend

(the one)

that Andrea and Jack could never have been. She believed that so deeply.

(she doesn’t want me the way I want her)

“I’m not here to give you a speech.”

Lena looked up sharply.

“Then what? Here to stop me? Foil my evil plans? I’m a villain now, remember.”

Kara’s face turned hard. “Don’t lie to me.”

Lena barked out a bitter laugh, feeling that need rise inside her, that anger. She had lost everything. The love of her mother, the protection of her brother. No matter how wealthy she was, she could never have those back. There was no price for what Lena wanted.

“How dare you say those words to me,” Lena hissed. “You’re the biggest liar I’ve ever met. Everything you’ve ever said to me is a lie.’

“That’s not true.”

“You told me you’d always protect me. Who’ll protect me from you?”

Kara looked away, shuddering as she breathed, or silently sobbing. Lena smiled a thin smile, glad to twist the knife.

(stop it stop it stop it stop hurting her)

“Something happened to me tonight.”

“I don’t care.”

“A fifth-dimensional being came to me and offered to let me change the past. I could change whatever I wanted.”

“I don’t see any changes,” said Lena.

Kara shook her head. “His gifts were all poison. Every time I tried to fix what happened, it turned out wrong. I tried and tried and tried until I realized what was happening.”

“Which is?”

“I was supposed to learn that I can’t just push past my mistakes. I have to own them and accept the consequences. There’s no magic wand that can fix us.”

“There is no us, Kara. We weren’t meant to be.”

“How can you say that?”

Kara drifted closer, sank down so they were face to face with the balcony railing between them.

“How can you say that?”

“It’s obvious. Whatever this was, it wasn’t meant to be. We’re just too different.”

Kara shook her head.

“When I think of all the things that had to happen in order for me to be here right now, it boggles my mind,” said Kara. “Two species from two different galaxies evolved so close together. Just the chances of that happening are incredibly small, and…

“And then my people had to find this world, and Kal-El’s parents had to choose it for their son. This world, this world specifically, and then I had to get stuck in the phantom zone on my way here. All of those things and a billion others all had to happen in perfect, crystalline order just for me to walk into that office and see you.”

Lena has gone still, listening. Kara looked at her so intently, so reverently, that Lena felt something strain inside her, stretch against itself to the point of breaking. It took all her many years of carefully honed composure to keep herself still.

“Every moment I had with you was a gift. Every single one. There are times when… there are times when I think that if I could somehow have saved Krypton, I don’t know if I could, because it would mean losing you. I don’t know if that’s a choice I could make and I don’t know what that means.”

“That’s lovely,” Lena said, trying and brutally failing to keep her voice from cracking, “but it doesn’t change anything.”

Kara let out a soft, choked sound.

“I know that. I know I ruined everything and I can’t fix it. I just needed to say this because it needed to be said. I’m not here to ask you to forgive me. I’m here to ask you to forgive yourself.”

“Oh, please.”

“I can’t stop you.”

Lena blinked. “What?”

“I can’t stop you. I can’t fight you. I know that now. It doesn’t matter what you do, I won’t ever hurt you again. I don’t want to confront what that means.”

“That’s rich, considering that the last time we had one of these chats, your sister pointed an orbital fusion canon at my head.”

“If she’d fired that thing,” said Kara, “there would be no more satellite, and no more DEO. I would shatter the foundations and pull down the walls. I would rain destruction on whoever hurt you. I’ve seen what happens to me when something happens to you. I never want to see it again.”

Lena leaned on the railing. “Go away.”

“What you have planned, you need to stop. I can’t stop you, and if I can’t, no one can. Please, Lena. I’m begging you, don’t do this. Don’t become someone you’ll hate just to hurt me. I’m not worth it.”

“Not everything is about you, Supergirl.”

“Please. Don’t take away everyone’s choice. I know what that’s like.”

“Oh?”

Kara nodded, and in the moonlight, her tears sparkled on her skin. “On Krypton, we were assigned to guilds as children. We had arranged marriages. Everything about our lives was planned from birth. Here, people have so much choice. Yes, they make mistakes, but people choose life and art and love. You can’t take that away over me.”

“It’s too late,” Lena said, her voice cracking, finally. “I’m doing it and if you won’t stand in my way, it’ll be done.”

Kara took a deep breath.

“Okay. I guess I should go.”

Lena rocked back.

“What? No. I’m going through with the plan.”

“I know. I won’t fight you.”

Kara turned, about to rocket off into the sky.

“You can’t just leave!” Lena screamed, her voice ragged from liquor and tears.

Kara stopped.

“You’re supposed to fight me. You’re supposed to yell at me and tell me the truth, that you knew I was a monster all along, that you were just staying close to me to watch me, to get to Lex. You’re supposed to fight me! You’re supposed to fight me!”

“No.”

Lena let out an incoherent scream and balled her hands into fists, meaning to slam them on the balcony, but they struck the implacable flesh of Kara’s chest. Powerful arms gathered around Lena, sheltering her from the nighttime chill and the voiceless judgment of distant stars.

“I won’t ever hurt you again,” Kara murmured. “I promise. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you for what I’ve done.”

“Why?” Lena whimpered. “Why won’t you just fight back?”

“Because you’re just like me. We’ve both lost so much. We both don’t want to see anyone else die.”

Lena should have shoved her away, demanded to be set free, screamed, protested, shoved. Instead her arms wound around Kara, drawn as if by gravity, and Kara’s gentle fingers began to stroke through her hair, her warm breath on the crown of Lena’s head.

“Come back to our life, Lena. To our friends. Come home.”

“I killed my big brother.”

“I know. I failed you both. I’m Supergirl. I’m supposed to find another way, a perfect solution.”

“I had to. He’d never have let you live if he knew how I f…”

Lena caught herself as the last moment.

It was Kara who sobbed now, her entire body shuddering. So much power with so much tenderness, her vast crushing strength kept at bay as she held Lena like one of the most precious of treasures.

“In one of the timelines that Mxy showed me, you… you told me how you felt as you were dying. I saw you die so many times, I can’t do it again.”

Lena tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry.

“I didn’t get to tell you before you died. I was scared. I never thought you’d want me like I want you.”

Lena went stock still, feeling Kara’s shuddering breath against her as she held her own. She couldn’t look up, afraid that if she did, this would be a cruel nightmare and she’d jolt awake in an empty bed and a penthouse full of bitter memories.

“Kara,” Lena began, finally. “Kara, what are you saying? What do you mean?”

“It’s so hard to say,” Kara sighed, and then, almost to herself, “even if I don’t have much left to lose.”

“Say it.”

“I love you.”

Lena’s heart soared, and a harsh sob exploded out of her. She’d dreamed of those words, longed for them, needed to hear them. So many times, Lena had almost let herself believe it.

“I want this to be real,” said Lena. “I just don’t know if I can forgive you, Kara. It hurt so much.”

“Can we try?” said Kara. “Can we give it a chance? Can you give me a chance?”

Lena finally looked up, and when she saw those tear-stained blue eyes filled in equal measure with terror and hope, she knew.

“Yes,” she said, simply.

Lena looked behind her, and was suddenly full of revulsion and regret. She hated this place.

“Can you take me back to your loft?”

Kara lifted her easily into a bridal carry and into the sky.

[yupthisisshe]

For What It’s He’s Worth - Neville x gn! Reader

A/n: warning - negative self-talk (Neville talks badly about himself but reader quickly tells him how wrong he is); gender neutral reader; reader and Neville are not dating but reader is in love with Neville (they are def mutually pining in my head but reader doesn't officially know that in this piece and its not really hinted at on Neville's part); this is mostly just one poignant moment between the two and practically no other plot; its angsty fluff (I think?)

“But maybe that’s all I’m good for. Forgetting and being forgotten.” Neville says with such acceptance that your heart cracks in two because you can tell he has considered this too many times.

“No!” You exclaim, nearing a shout.

“[Y/n]…” he says quietly. Unsure where you are going with this, but understanding how heartfelt this moment is.

“I won't let you talk about yourself like that! I won't!” he was the melancholy one, but you were the one nearing tears.

“But it's true,” he says with the saddest smile you’ve ever seen. The tears became harder to hold back just looking at him. How can he believe this?!

“It’s not! You're not forgettable! Neville, you are so unforgettable that from the moment I saw you I've never been able to forget you! Not even for a moment!“ you couldn't tell if you were being hysterical but you didn't care. He needed to know, to truly understand that he was not forgettable. He was so much more than he gave himself credit for. You didn't care if you had to scream it from the astronomy tower or coddle him nightly while whispering it into his ear like it was the only words you knew besides “I love you.” Three words which you weren't sure you had the courage to say just yet, but you could tell him this: he. Was. Unforgettable. And nothing less.

“[Y/n]…” was all he could say. He didn’t know what to think. No one had ever said anything to him to indicate that he was anything but forgettable. Not everyone made him feel that he was, but no one had ever told him he was, in fact, unforgettable. He couldn’t believe it. Was he truly memorable after all?

Both of you stood there, unspeaking. Tears began to seep from your eyes. You couldn’t hold them back anymore. Neville still didn’t know what to think of himself, but he did know that he had to show you how much he appreciated your words and how much he appreciated you. He knew what it felt like to feel and be ignored and unheard. He never wanted you to feel that way. He rushed to embrace you and you returned the motion. The two of you remained that way for a while, not saying anything, but feeling it all.

From that night forward, whenever Neville felt forgettable, he remembered that moment with you, as well as all the other moments he has spent with you. He remembered you and the bond he shared with you and he knew: He was worth more than he gave himself credit for. He was not forgettable. Even if he didn’t feel it, in your eyes, he was indescribably amazing and utterly unforgettable. And as time went on, he not only knew this, but began to believe it, and to live and breathe with it as the truth. Because it was, and he could feel that now.

[honeyhhearted]

Sweet Dreams

Read on AO3

Warnings: Health Anxiety, Depression, Mentions of Illness (No one is sick, reader just suffers from severe anxiety)

Relationship: Loki/Reader

Summary:

You can't sleep (again). 

You're afraid of burdening Loki, so you try to face it alone, when he catches you on one of your sleepless nights.

A/N:

Another fluff short for you <3

I personally really struggle with health anxiety/mild hypochondria, so this one is partially for me too.

You couldn’t sleep again.

When you got out of bed, eyes stinging, neck aching, you sighed to yourself. You hadn’t been able to get any sleep for the last few weeks. Nights spent staring into your phone until 3AM, watching the sun rise and dragging yourself out of bed every day were starting to wear you down. You were sluggish, shoulders drooping, dark circles beneath your eyes.

The sounds of the night kept you company. 

You padded quietly down the hallway, doing your best not to wake Loki. You didn’t want to worry him. Part of you knew that you should tell him. He could probably help you, you thought. But something in you tightened at the thought of inconveniencing him. He had a difficult enough time sleeping as it is, without you waking him in the dead of night. You didn’t want to become a burden more than you already were.

Night time was when anxiety plagued you the worst. Its spindly tendrils wrapped themselves around your chest, squeezing every time you dared to close your eyes. What if someone broke in, and you couldn’t stop them? What if they hurt you? What if they hurt him?

Every ache and pain in your body scared you. Sometimes it felt like you were afraid of yourself. You couldn’t let yourself sleep out of fear that you just…wouldn’t wake up. You couldn’t sleep beside Loki without worrying that the usually comforting sound of his even breaths would stop in the middle of the night.

During the day, he would catch you staring too long at a bruise, a scratch. Logically you knew where it would come from. You were incredibly clumsy, prone to bumping into things constantly. But when you could see it, when you stared at the lumps and bumps on your body long enough, you could convince yourself otherwise. Those were the moments he would comfort you, waving a hand over you before telling you, for the eighth time that day, that you were fine. 

“Sweetling,” He would say, gently every time, “I promise that you are in good health. What is worrying you so much?”

You always felt a rush of shame. He was so patient, so kind to you, even on the days where he’d have to tell you ten, twelve, times, and his brow would furrow and lips would purse at your fear.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered back. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

So, you stayed awake. Tossing and turning in bed until he drifted off to sleep beside you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling until your eyes burned and your battery drained. Then you’d get up at 3AM, like clockwork. You’d walk through your home, listening to the soft sounds of crickets outside. You’d sit in the kitchen, coffee prepared in the fridge in advance so the sounds of you rustling around wouldn’t wake Loki. 

You sighed. Your head throbbed constantly from exhaustion, and your hands shook. As you sat, sipping your coffee, you felt your eyes begin to water. You were so tired. 

It was beginning to take a mental toll on you, the lack of sleep. You were more irritable, snapping at Loki over what you used to laugh about. You knew he deserved better, and you hated yourself when you saw the confusion in his eyes at your poor moods. You just felt so terrible, all the time, and you didn’t know what to do anymore. 

Some days, you considered just leaving. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, and you didn’t want to keep dragging him down with you. But the thought of doing so made your stomach clench. So, selfishly, you stayed. 

Thor had recommended you see someone. You knew you should. But you just…couldn’t. He approached you hesitantly, some weeks ago, the way someone would a feral animal. He looked so uncomfortable it almost made you laugh to think about, as it was such an out of place look on him.

“I don’t mean to overstep,” he said, awkwardly, “But, sister, are you well? You have been looking…I apologize for my bluntness, overtired. You do not seem physically ill. Has something happened?”

You smiled at him, heart warming at his care for you. The two of you had always been close, but had grown even closer when you started dating his brother. He treated you like a sister, protective and sweet. Your smile faded quickly, though, at his question. You didn’t want to get into it, not when you knew he’d likely tell Loki. You didn’t want to make either of them worry about you - at least not more than they clearly already were.

“I’m okay, Thor, it’s just…I’m just in my own head, I think. That’s all.” Was what you came up with.

He didn’t seem to believe you, but didn’t push it. You were thankful for that. “If you say so. Might I recommend those Midgardian mind healers? Jane regularly attends one.” He looked sheepish. “Don’t tell her I told you. But, I believe it is for moments when you are ‘in your own head’, as you put it.”

You sighed. “I know. I’ll think about it.”

That was weeks ago. You had a tab open to Google, the search “therapists near me” opened on it. It taunted you, most nights. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Darling?” A raspy, sleep-filled voice came from behind you. You whipped around, trying to blink away your tears. Loki stood in the entryway to the kitchen, eyes bleary as he looked at you. He was paler than normal, a frown firmly pasted on his face. Your heart thumped. Even half awake, you still found him so beautiful.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You asked, making your way over to him.

He wrapped his arms around you, breathing you in. You felt your shoulders relax. He always made you feel better, the familiar scent of spice and pine surrounding you as you listened to the strong sound of his heart.

“I woke, and you were not there.” He said. “I dreamt you were gone, and when I woke, you were.”

Guilt squeezed your stomach. Loki’s nightmares were not frequent, but when he had them they would typically revolve around you. You hurt, missing, dead…those nights were the ones he woke, a horrified noise ripping its way out of his throat, his hands shaking, skin pale. He always reached for you, hugging you to him like a lifeline. You felt terrible that you were not there for him.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” You said, your voice muffled into his chest.

“Why are you out here? It is late.” He pressed a kiss to your head before leaning back to look at you.

You hesitated. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I…didn’t want to bother you.” You bit your lip, looking down.

“My love.” His voice was stern, yet gentle. “You are never bothering me. Do you hear me? If you need me, I am here. Always.” He paused, taking in your haggard appearance. “How long has this been happening?”

Tears welled in your eyes. Guilt and shame stabbed through your throat as a sob burst out of you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” You sobbed, fisting his shirt in your hands. “I didn’t want to worry you, or burden you, or make you take care of me-” You inhaled sharply, the pain in your head worsening as you cried. “I just don’t feel good and I’m scared, please don’t be mad at me I’m sorry I didn’t mean to lie to you -” Loki shushed you, cradling your head to his chest as your whole body quivered. 

“My love, my love,” He said to you, rocking slightly. “I am so sorry you have dealt with this alone. I am sorry I did not notice sooner. I am not mad, I could never be mad at you for doing what you thought was a good thing. You are not a burden, darling, you never have been a burden. It is an honor and a privilege to take care of you every day. Every day I spend making you happy is the greatest thing I can do.”

You sobbed harder, squeezing him. “I just - I didn’t want to become a chore, I didn’t want you to resent me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m just so tired.”

He shushed you again, softly, before lifting you in his arms. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he walked you both back to your bedroom.

He laid you in bed gently before summoning a glass of water for you, placing it on your bedside table, and crawling under the covers. He held you as you calmed yourself, pressing kisses all over your face and whispering gentle affirmations to you. He wiped your tears with a sweet softness, massaged your scalp in a way you’d always found comforting, kissed your fingertips. When you caught your breath, you looked up at him through wet eyelashes.

“I think I need to talk to someone.” You said.

He smiled sadly at you. “Thor told me that he recommended a mind healer for you. They are called therapists on Midgard, yes?”

You nodded. “I was too scared to go.”

He kissed the tip of your nose. “I will be with you every step of the way, my sweet love. There is nothing to be afraid of, and if there is, I will be with you.”

You pressed yourself close to him, burying your head into his cool neck as his arms circled you.

“I love you, Loki,” you said quietly.

“And I love you, so much,” He replied.

He began to sing to you, an Asgardian lullaby you had heard many times, but never deciphered. The rhythmic motion of his hands running up and down your back soothed you, as your eyes drooped and you finally drifted off to sleep.

It was the sweetest sleep you’d had in weeks.

[chishiyasleftnut]

Hi everyone ＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／This is another fic I wrote in the middle of the night, but I couldn't get the scenario out of my head haha. It's not smutty at all, but I want to experiment a bit with different genres. I hope you'll all like it! (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

2+1

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Genre: Fluff w/ mild angst. Warnings: Minor existential dread, mentioning of abortions. Pairing: Dad!Chishiya x fem!reader.

Plot: After a long day at work, dad!Chishiya contemplates about his new role as a father. Is he even cut out for the job?

1140 words. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Chishiya had never seen himself as the father type. Perhaps it was the subconscious fear of becoming like his own father - distant and uncaring - that kept him from wilfully pursuing that path. However, despite his best efforts to prevent it, you had managed to accidentally become pregnant and he had had to come to terms with the scary reality of fatherhood. 

It wasn’t as bad as he thought. Sure, the little creature was awfully noisy and smelly at times, but he had to admit that she was also kinda cute. Did the positives outweigh the negatives? He wasn’t sure. But he knew he didn’t completely hate being a parent as much as he originally feared.

Luckily, Chishiya was earning enough money to secure you a long maternity leave, allowing you to bond well with your baby in a way Chishiya never would. He had accepted that and somewhat found peace with the fact that he wasn’t expected to be as close to the tiny being as you were. It was easier to handle having to accept that he was the secondary caregiver and not the primary.

Another benefit of his job were the long hours, which gave him a much-needed break from dealing with home life. He had always used his work as a coping mechanism to deal with every small, negative thing life threw at him, but it was only after becoming a dad that he realised that that’s what his own father did too. It scared him to admit that he shared more than just blood with the man who had been so distant his entire childhood. However, he tried to shake the feeling and convinced himself that he was taking extra shifts to afford your maternity leave. Mh, yes. That was 100% why.

Despite desperately seeking a sanction from the reality of his newfound status as a dad, a part of him was always looking forward to coming home. And so he did this night, stepping into your shared apartment, which was only lit up by the moon shining luminously through the big and modern windows. The apartment, which long ago had been only sparsely decorated (just as he liked it), was now covered in proof of your child’s existence; no matter where he looked, he saw baby toys, neatly folded onesies, and an array of pacifiers in every colour possible.

Trying his best to ignore the way his once tidy apartment had changed, he walked with tired steps through the apartment until he got to the master bedroom. Slowly, he opened the door, mindful of the way it creaked so as not to disturb you or the little human sleeping safely in her comfortable crib next to your bed.

For a while, he stood still in the doorway, examining the way you and your baby’s breathing were synchronised, as if you had become one with one another. Although he would never admit it, he envied you - envied the way you so easily let this helpless child into your heart and how you so naturally took care of her every need in a way that Chishiya couldn’t make sense of.

It was those quiet moments that assured him that you made the right choice in keeping the child. Of course you had discussed the possibility of getting an abortion, but now that your daughter was in front of you - living, breathing, feeling - neither of you would want it any other way. How silly of you two to even consider any other option, he thought with a small smile creeping up on his lips.

With gentle steps, he walked into the bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him before approaching the bed. Despite how silent he was attempting to be, you regrettably woke up. He hated when he woke you up after a night shift - now more than ever. As a doctor, he was well aware of how desperately a new mother needed rest, and he hated taking that away from you for even a moment.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered while climbing into bed next to you, still dressed in his hospital scrubs. “It’s just me.”

By instinct, you turned around to examine the small child, unable to fall back to sleep yourself until you had assured her that she was safely asleep. Luckily, she was, her chest rising and falling at just the right speed. He admired your natural dedication to ensuring your offspring’s safety and comfort. It always looked like second nature to you; like you were never, not even when asleep, not aware of how your daughter was doing.

Chishiya moved to embrace you, hugging you from behind and burrowing his face into your neck, taking in your scent. And that’s when he realised that work wasn’t his sanctuary; this was. It wouldn’t be easy for him to rearrange his mindset, but he knew he had to try. While you had never complained, he was well aware of how much being the prime caretaker of a newborn was taking a toll on you. You never got a full night’s rest anymore, surviving on napping throughout the day whenever the baby miraculously fell asleep.

That would have to change, and he knew it. No, he not only knew it; he wanted it to change. He wanted to be a better father and partner than his own dad was, and that started with reducing his work hours.

“I’m taking next week off,” he mumbled into the small hairs on your neck, unsure if you were even awake and listening to him. If he was honest, he wasn’t even sure if the comment was directed at you or if he just needed to say it aloud to believe it himself.

To his surprise, you hummed and scooted even closer to him, gently affirming to him that you were listening. Perhaps tomorrow, when he inevitably has to repeat the very same sentence, he will get a more enthusiastic response.

He could only hope that you were just as excited about the new change as he was. Still, he hoped you were without the deep fear that was echoing through his entire being - the fear of failure, of not being good enough for the sweet, innocent baby that was laying just half a metre away from the two of you.

In the last seconds before he slipped into unconsciousness, Chishiya, for the first time, found peace in his new role as a father, coming to terms with the fear of not being enough for the almost doll-like little girl that lay peacefully so close to him.

After all, very few great things were accomplished without fear and worry, and there was no doubt in his mind that this truly was a great thing. He could and would change. The two of you had turned into three, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[cyxnidx]

SWEETNESS !

character: neuvillette

content: fluffy & a lil angst.

a/n: just reminding neuvi he matters & worth ur love. kinda short - jus haven't been in the writing mood lately. if we end up getting headcanons / mini scenarios for a while yk why <3.

"do you love me?"

that was the question neuvillette uttered moments ago.

and now, he was a crying mess in your lap while it rained. the rain matched his mood, occasional lighting strikes hitting the grounds surrounding your home due to his anger.

"i just don't," he paused, "just don't feel like m' enough for you. i don't deserve you, and-"

it hurt your heart to see neuvillette like this. his head buried in the plush of your thighs, however tears are falling from his eyes. he sat down in a praying position, head laying on your thighs as he tries to explain what was wrong without choking up on his own words or making himself cry more.

"and i just feel like it's stupidly selfish and idiotic to even think such a thing, but i just can't.. i can't just stop." he looks up to you, eyes all red and puffy from the past 10 minutes of crying. a lightning strike hit, a bit closer to your house this time. "it's hard to make it stop - darling, they won't stop."

it was hard to comprehend just how bad things had gotten for neuvillette to be in this state. and moments ago, you two were simply existing together - on the couch, with the tv playing despite neither of you paying attention to whatever was airing. instead, you were doing your own thing and he was as well - coexisting.

and then, that's when he broke the silence, with a question you never thought he'd bother to think.

were you not showing him enough love? were you not paying enough attention to him? were you not doing enough? had you subconsciously stopped certain habits since the two of you've been together? has these thoughts been racking his brain for who knows how long? just how long had he waited to tell you?

there was no clear answer.

"of course, i love you, neuvi." you tell him softly. "you're the only thing i've loved for a while."

he blinks at you, eyes slightly puffy and skin turning pink from crying and rubbing his face against the pants you wore.

"why wouldn't i love you?" you place your forehead against his, "you're practically all i've ever wanted. all i've ever known, the only thought i've ever had."

he brings a hand up to his cheek, wiping away the rest of the forming tears. "m' sorry,"

"don't apologize." you say softly, kissing his forehead. "have i not been doing enough for you?"

he shakes his head frantically, eyes tearing up at the thought of you thinking you haven't been enough now. "you've been perfect, i promise."

"so have you, neuvi. there's no reason i'd stop loving you."

he sniffles, a self-pitying chuckle leaving him for a moment. "i jus' didn't think i deserved you, with all you do f'me, and then i think about me, and," he pauses, his throat closing as he begins to get more emotional once again. "and i couldn't fathom a reason you'd be so patient with me."

"because you deserve it, neuvi. every inch of love and affection i give you, you deserve. you're worthy of it all." you begin to kiss around his face, wiping any drying tears from his cheeks once again. "you're so sweet, you're a sweetness i can't stray from."

[answer2jeff]

Life Imitates Art —Carmen Berzatto.

PART 1/2.

warnings: fluff. painter!reader x roommate!carmen. unestablished relationships. clunky overly detailed writing. carmy being concerned. angsty. mutual pinning. (reader is lowkey mentally unstable like Carmen. i can't write 100% healthy relationships i'm sorry!!!)

a/n: sorry i disappeared and didn't write for weeks and decided to randomly drop this!

You needed inspiration.

With your last three pieces bought out from the French art gallery, L'art de L'amour, you hadn't touched your easel in days. Your brushes had gone dry, the paint clumping and staining every bristle. The lack of desire to make art felt like you hadn't seen the sun in 10 years.

You'd been ignoring this dreadful feeling with sleep.

Long day at the studio, the space filled with no one but younger, starving artists who wanted to admire your work for creative flow—but never wanting to know the real meaning behind every brush stroke, or why you used oil paints for specific pieces? Sleep.

The days fell shorter, the nights falling longer.

Even your roommate, a micromanager of his career, noticed.

It surprised you, possibly more than it should've. When you first moved into this apartment, you had every doubt in the world sharing a space would be enjoyable. For a while, you weren't sure if you could call yourselves "friends." Then again, living with a complete stranger—a man, no less, seemed impractical. But after a month or two, it was refreshing in a way. Carmen always cleaned up after himself, and was never opposed to splitting chores. There was no need to set specific boundaries. You felt respected, cared for. Every minute not overpowered by either of your desires to create were mostly spent with each other. It kept you sane.

You woke up to the sound of Carmen walking into the kitchen, cursing under his breath when he struggled to shut the door of your apartment behind him. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself out of bed, only to find that your bedroom door was wide open. You must've gone straight to bed after spending the entire evening trying and expectedly failing at "cleaning" up the apartment so Carmen wouldn't come home to a mess.

Bare feet pattered against the floorboards, the palm of your hand pressing into your tired eyes. You stretched your arms out, your t-shirt, who you weren't sure if it was yours or Carmen's, lifting up and showing just a sliver of your stomach over your grey sweatpants. The sunlight leaking through the windows blinded you.

"Oh, hey. You're up." A warm, welcoming voice greeted you, followed by the fridge being closed shut after restocking it with the necessities he picked up from Whole Foods.

You blinked to see Carmen hovered over the kitchen counter, clad in a navy-blue crewneck and gold chain dangling from his pale neck. His hands pried at a familiar brown wrapper. Blueberry muffins.

"Hey, yourself," you slurred, barely able to keep your eyes open as you hoisted yourself up onto the marble surface. You gazed down at him, grinning at his messy blonde curls.

Carmen smiled back, blue eyes admiring the sight of you: half asleep, your voice raspy while still having that airy cadence, your hair messier than it was the last time he willingly saw you—which he couldn't totally remember. He came home to the sight of your bedroom dimly lit by your bedside lamp.

"It's noon," he muttered, glancing from his phone on the counter, and back to you.

"Shit. Really?"

"Yeah. You've been sleeping a lot lately," he kept his stare on you as he opened the cabinet beside you, reminding you to 'watch your head' as he grabbed a ceramic plate.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

Your mind wandered to your exhibit. The thought of never having the ability to create such extraordinary work terrified you. So much that you hadn't even tried. It was almost embarrassing: Carmen seeing you like this. Rid of the one thing you convinced yourself you knew how to do.

"Not really."

You wanted to laugh. Maybe he just didn't get it.

If you could make even the painfully mundane into something more, than maybe you were more than just existing. Carmen was actually astounded by you and your work, even with the lack of knowledge in other art forms. Culinary was his calling, but for you? Oh, how he tried to grasp every concept you conveyed in your creative works. All in attempt to comprehend every thought in that pretty little head of yours.

Maybe he didn't understand as much as he wished, but maybe he didn't have to totally 'get it' to get you. Carmen found it hard to read people, their feelings, their true intentions, his whole life. But for once, he had confidence in his intoxicating marvel for everything you did. Even the way you covered your mouth when you laughed around everyone except him, or the way you styled your hair

"Well, it was for the sake of art," you smiled, extending your hand out to accept the plate that held the beautifully baked blueberry muffin. "Thanks for these, by the way."

"Pleasure. And I was actually gonna ask you about that. The—the art. Your art." Carmen joined you on the counter, his feet dangling beside yours. Your shoulders bumped past each other, a laugh coming from the both of you.

"Yeah? What about it?" You bit into your muffin, your gaze never leaving his.

"Well, I uh—I kinda wanted to visit your exhibit, y'know? Get to see it in its full form. I would've asked sooner but—"

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay. I know. Um—that'd be great. That's really nice of you, Carm."

A part of you wondered why he wanted to see it. But it wasn't all too surprising. Carmen took every chance he got to see your studio—even taking the initiative to drive you home from it on late nights, where you'd be endlessly analyzing your works even hours after Carmen would leave what was now, The Bear.

"Nah, I mean, I've just seen all that y'do and it's—" Carmen shrugged, struggling to find the right words to express his admiration without changing the atmosphere, "really cool. It's you, y'know?" His bottom lip was barred by his teeth and he looked into you for an answer.

You wished you could understand how the complexities of a kitchen; how it could clutch Carmen's attention to the point of no return, but you were happy for him. He was making something more of "mom and dads piece of shit," as he called it.

You never thought it was anything short of fucking awesome. He had all of this experience, drive, passion. Carmen felt more real, more rawly human to you than anything. Or anyone you'd met before.

He changed you. You were softer, calmer.

And still, you worried for him, dragging him out of the ever all consuming anxiety. Sometimes this was through watching X-file reruns on the couch. And every night, you'd move a little closer. By now, he'd keep an arm around you as your eyes became heavy and the room stirred with darkness and comfortable silence. He prayed to whatever ruled above him that you wouldn't notice, simultaneously wishing you'd want him to hold you gently like this. Even grocery store trips, something so simple, felt this way—which you missed out on this morning. You'd stand on the edge of the cart, your hands supporting your weight as Carmen pushed the handle with both hands, eyes scanning the isle for whatever obscure ingredient he needed for the dinner he planned on making you that night.

Every time he looked away, you stared. His beautifully carved nose, the way he bit the inside of his cheek and furrowed his blonde eyebrows when he tried to focus on making a decision. You were afraid, in a weird, animalistic way. You hadn't stopped yourself from relying on him. What if loving him this way made him pull away–or worse, you? You had to admit, having something this painfully simple in your life that made up for the chaos, was a little hard to accept.

It took everything in you to pretend you didn't notice him cleaning up the bathroom you shared whenever either of you left your belongings lying around. You wanted to convince yourself it was because he didn't want to come off as a slob, or influence you to be one yourself. But it always felt more like he was looking after you. Nothing that belonged to you would ever be misplaced again. Not with Carmen around.

You took pride in the little things. Your shoes placed next to each other near the front door, your toothbrushes leaning against each other with corresponding colored clips to cover their bristles. This was good. Change was good.

[creative-heart]

"Where the world made sense" Kuku x (fem!) reader

A/N: Hi lovelies!! Ok, so here goes another one, I think THE man Esteban Kukuriczka is the loveliest man ever! and I wanted to get in there with some angsty fluff for any and all who love this adorable dork. I really hope you enjoy it, it kinda came about with Shakira’s song “Antologia” for my spanish speaking girlies.

TW: Angst, fluff, may be a little mention to smut,just some kissing, social drinking and smoking, nothing too bad.

Word Count: 1.9k

Where Kuku and Y/N finally stop being stubborn and get back where they belong, to eachother

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three years had gone by since Kuku left the apartment Y/N and him shared, three whole years, and the brunette still walked around in that old Rolling Stones t-shirt he had left behind when he packed his bags, she had never had the heart to reach out and give it back. Three years had gone by and it was the first time she was facing the chance of seeing him again, since the break up, Y/N had been adamant not to cross paths with him, even if it meant, making special plans for her cousin Matias’ birthday. This year though, it was different, he had begged her to come to his party, and she hadn’t had the heart to refuse him he was after all, the favorite of the bunch.

As Y/N got ready padding barefoot around the apartment trying to find the leather miniskirt she wanted to wear she kept circling back to the overbearing thought of Kuku being there, he would probably be, he was Mati’s best friend after all, she didn’t know if it was that chance of seeing him or what, but she kept changing outfits trying to look perfect as she took a glance at the time on the clock on her night stand- she was late, of course- “fuck fuck fuck” she muttered under her breath while she jumped around on one foot trying to put on her higheels and run out the door.

On her drive over, Y/N couldn’t stop replaying their whole relationship in her head, from that first awkward yet adorable hello at the wrap party for the movie, to the lazy fluttery kisses the brown haired sweetheart used to pepper her face with every morning, she remembered the first piece of furniture they bought for the apartment, and the first present she ever gifted him. It all felt so fresh, it all still stung too bad, maybe it wouldn’t have if something bad would have happened for them to break it off back then, maybe it would be easier if she could hate him, but of course she couldn’t, how could you hate the sweetest person alive?- what happened was that you weren’t important enough, he was never home, he always had better plans, remember?- she forced herself to be mad, she had felt so alone back then, and whenever she talked to him about it, kuku dismissed it as being nonsense. She sighed as she parked in front of her cousin’s place, she could hear the music roaring all the way from down on the street. She took a few minutes to compose herself, she knew she was going to cry if she went up immediately, so she got out of her red mini, rested against the closed door and light up a cigarette.

~~~~~

She fixed her staple bright red lipstick while she rode the elevator up to the loud apartment and took a deep breath before knocking on the door, she had her arms opened, half expecting the birthday boy  to come greet her and as soon as the door started to open she exclaimed “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE SECOND BEST RECALT ON THIS EARTH!” and flung herself onto what she believed to be Matias’ arms only to be met by the perfume she knew oh so well, she wanted to stay in Esteban’s embrace forever, but she pulled away immediately brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and looking down so he couldn’t see her blushing.

“Oh shoot, Sorry Ku- Esteban” she corrected herself “I expected Mati to open the door, I didn’t mean to hu-” her sentence was cut short when he rested his warm soft hand on her forearm to calm her down and let her in.

“Nothing to apologize for babe” he said, the pet name coming as second nature to him when it came to Y/N he moved to the side so she could come in and took the chance to look her up and down -damn she looks absolutely breathtaking, she always had, how I ever got so lucky is the world’s greatest mystery- he wanted to kick himself for letting her go, for not fighting harder, he was still after all these years, undeniably, utterly and completely in love with the dark haired girl. Once she had made her way into the apartment, like she owned the place, commanding the scene as she did anywhere she went, he closed the door and went straight to the kitchen where his friend was.

Matias looked up at him from the snacks he was serving “what’s the matter with you, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost” he chuckled- I MIGHT AS WELL HAVE-  Esteban screamed internally and leaned over.

“you hadn’t told me Y/N would be here tonight, why didn’t you tell me?” The younger looked at his friend and laughed so loudly the whole building might have heard.

“Of course she was gonna be here, she’s my cousin, plus you guys broke up what…three years ago?” he quirked an eyebrow up at kuku “about time you saw each other again” he smirked and walked out giving him a wink. Matias very well knew they were both still stupidly in love with each other, and that the only reason they hadn’t gotten back together was because they were both too damn head strong to admit that they had made a mistake and that they missed eachother.

Esteban stood at the kitchen’s doorway, and there was Y/N as beautiful as ever talking to Malena and Pipe, wine glass in hand looking as beautiful as ever- no, she looks better than ever- and he could watch her all his damn life, seeing how her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed, that laugh that filled up any room, that came straight from her heart, head tilted back, free hand clutching over her stomach. And her hair, her long brown hair, perfectly done up with those waves that she would spend hours getting to be how she wanted them to, how he hated it when she sat on the floor, curling iron in hand, brow furrowed in concentration, he knew they would be late to wherever they had to go when he saw that, and yet, he would never change that sight. He quickly looked away when he felt her gaze fall on him, but he could see the soft sad smile painted on her lips, and he hated to be the reason for it to be there.

~~~~~

As the night went on Y/N still hadn’t mastered the courage to go up to kuku and talk to him again, she knew she couldn’t, she would cry, or throw herself in his arms, or both, and she wouldn’t let that happen, so instead, she grabbed her third…no, fourth glass of wine and stepped out to the balcony to have a smoke, she needed the fresh air, she could feel the booze getting to her head. she light it up and rested against the rail, closing her eyes and letting her head fall backwards a little bit, enjoying the chill air, she didn’t even realize when the balcony door opened and out came that head full of gorgeous brown hair.

“I see you still haven’t broken the habit” Kuku said softly a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips as he saw the girl jump a little bit “oh sorry, didn’t mean to startle you”.

Y/N opened her eyes, and looked at Esteban, god he was still every bit as handsome as she remembered him to be and smiled softly “Not an easy one to break” she cleared her throat -especially when you’re drunk, sad and want to have your lips on his not on the cigarette- she thought to herself.

“It’s nice seeing you again Y/N/N” he started off quietly, hands fidgeting on the balcony rail as he stood beside her facing the street “I must say I was surprised to see you here, thought you would keep avoiding me” she looked at him again and had to fight the urge to brush that stubborn strand of hair off his face, it would always get in his eyes.

“I thought about it for a bit, but I had promised Mati, and I couldn’t break that” she stated before she could filter out the truth she kept looking at him she could look at him all her life “you look good, how have you been?” Y/N said quietly and bit her  lip seeing him shrug.

“busy…okay I guess” he turned to look at her, eyes immediately drawn to her red lips, god what those did to his heart “Mati told me you finally got the job, you’re now officially a model, congrats, I knew you would get it”- so he asked about me- Y/N thought as she nodded and just leaned in pressing a soft kiss to his lips, probably wine induced, and he returned it softly at first, and a bit needier as it went on, he had missed that, but he pulled away, she was clearly drunk “no, babygirl, I think it’s time for you to go home, you’ve had a bit to drink, come on” he said taking the glass of wine.

“Don’t call me that” she whined, not because she didn’t like it, but because it made her want him to keep saying it. He chuckled and threw his hands up in defeat.

“Come on, I’ll take you home” he said, and with that they left Matia’s apartment.

~~~~~

When they got to Y/N’s apartment, Esteban helped her out of her car and walked her up the stairs to the apartment they used to share and bit his lip while getting the door opened, once they were inside, he turned around “okay, this is where I say good-” he was cut off by her lips crashing onto his once more, still soft, but with a longing that hadn’t been there before, his hands instinctively went to her waist and he pulled her closer not wanting to break the kiss he took her back to the couch, he still knew the place like the back of his hand. When Y/N went to take her top off he stopped her hands, it took all he had in him to do so, but he did, and she sighed and sat up. 

“You don’t want me” she frowned looking down feeling stupid “I should have known” and he sat down laughing which pulled a furious look from those gorgeous green eyes.

“Oh no, believe me, I do, I have dreamt of this moment for three years, I want you more than I ever have, but you’re drunk, and if I’m gonna have sex with you again, I want you to be in all your senses, plus we have lots to talk about still” he stroked her cheek lovingly, he had missed this, and she nodded softly leaning into his touch.

“stay the night?” she looked into his eyes playing with his free hand and he nodded.

She smiled softly and walked him to the bedroom they once shared, taking her clothes off and throwing on his shirt. He smiled seeing that and got in bed with her, pulling her into his arms, determined to not let her go ever again, she fitted in there like it was meant to be, his chest had ached for her head to lay on it once more, and here they were, once again where the world made sense, once again where nothing else mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: OFC he wouldn’t want to go all the way if Y/N was drunk, that’s how much of a gentleman he is. Hope you enjoyed it!  Also, let me know ig you want me to tag you in my next ones.

@madame-fear

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Don't leave | {SaneGiyuu}

Theme: Angst/Fluff/Angst

Note: I think SaneGiyuu's turning into my comfort ship again ;-;

Why do Sanemi's ears looks like elf ears 💀

×××

"Don't do this to me," Sanemi whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. Tears threatened to pour over and his hands trembled as he held Giyuu's limp body in his arms. "Don't leave, I swear to God, please... I'll do anything but please, please don't leave me alone."

Giyuu's body remained cold, unmoving. Lifeless. He was gone, and that was that. Blood stained his mouth, his usually plush, pink lips splattered with inky red, a cruel contrast to his pale complexion. A single tear dropped onto his cheek. Not from his own eyes, however. He had lost the capability to cry. To smile, to breathe, to live.

"Giyuu..." Sanemi mumbled, his breaths shaky. "Giyuu, Giyuu, oh, Giyuu, please, PLEASE!!"

His pleading was fruitless, simply dispersing into the cold, February air. He sobbed over the body of his lover, snowy hair swinging forwards as he bent down, clutching Giyuu tightly.

The sudden image of Giyuu, alive and happy, flashed before his mind.

"You should pin your hair back, it keeps covering your eyes," he said, laughing. He had cut his hair, had been unable to continue tying it back once he'd lost an arm.

"Hell no. I'll look stupid like that," Sanemi retorted, rolling his eyes. He propped himself up on his elbows, glancing over at his boyfriend who lay next to him, buried under a pile of blankets.

Giyuu smiled over at him, reaching forward and brushing Sanemi's bangs from his eyes. His hand was rough from a decade of fighting, calloused and hardened. Yet his touch was gentle, soothing in a way. His fingers brushed over Sanemi's jaw and he sat up, scooting closer.

Sanemi looked up, a sense of tranquility befalling over him at the sight of Giyuu, an easy smile wavering on his lips.

Giyuu bent down, placing a kiss on Sanemi's forehead, brushing against one of the many scars written into his skin.

"I love you, you know that, right?" Giyuu said, tugging Sanemi onto his lap. Sanemi rested his head on Giyuu's thigh, turning his body to look up at him. Their gazes met and, for a moment, Sanemi lost himself in the beautiful, deep blue eyes of his boyfriend's a small smile curving his mouth.

"You tell me every day," Sanemi murmured, a burst of laughter escaping his lips.

"It's because I love you so much," Giyuu declared, pressing fleeting kiss on Sanemi's smile.

"You're cute, did you know that?" Sanemi asked, sitting up. He turned, pulling Giyuu onto his own lap this time, hand brushing Giyuu's neck, grazing his jaw.

"No, I didn't," Giyuu said. "Am I?" A teasing smile betrayed him.

They had played this before. As low as either of their self-esteem's were, both adored to be praised. To be seen as something other than what they saw themself as.

"Very," Sanemi agreed matter-of-factly, tangling his hand in Giyuu's short, raven-black hair and pulling his head towards him. He kissed him slowly, tongue skimming over Giyuu's bottom lip. 

Giyuu pulled away, breath caught in his throat. "Really?" he asked, eyes flickering over Sanemi's face, searching for any hint of a lie.

"Truly," Sanemi assured him, bending down slightly and, tugging on Giyuu's kimono, pressed a kiss on his lover's collarbone. "You're lovely, too. So, so pretty. Most handsomest of the land. Girls, boys, even demons. They're all falling for my boyfriend." 

Giyuu laughed gently, though he sounded breathless as kisses were peppered up his neck, trailing to his jaw. "You're being ridiculous now," he said, leaning against Sanemi.

"Never."

"Be reasonable, Sanemi," Giyuu ordered, a mock frown playing on his lips.

"Can't, I'm overwhelmed by my love for you," Sanemi teased, grinning. 

"I hate you," Giyuu huffed, rejecting kisses that tried to follow, though his cheeks were tinted pink. 

"I thought you loved me?" Sanemi said, faux gloom flooding his expression. 

Giyuu turned back to him, horrified. "I do!" 

Then Sanemi broke character, a smile spreading on his lips, and Giyuu stammered, stumbling over himself for a response. When he couldn't think of one, he settled for a frown, drawing his features for his previously-normal expression, eyes disinterested and ignorant.

Sanemi kissed him anyhow, changing their position to pin Giyuu to the futon, kneeling above him. 

Giyuu went back to his flustered state, weakly trying to push Sanemi back before submitting to the kisses, his eyes fluttering shut. 

"God, I love you so fucking much..." Sanemi murmured into his boyfriend's lips, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Giyuu's.

"How much?" Giyuu whispered.

Sanemi opened his eyes and sat up—or, sat on Giyuu's lap—surveying the breathless mess of his lover. He slipped back onto the futon, picking Giyuu up and cradling him in his arms. He smiled at the pleasant expression that took over Giyuu's face, soothing his features. He dipped his head down for a kiss then pulled away by a breath, their lips brushing against each other as he spoke.

"Too much," Sanemi said, gaze focused on Giyuu's blue-bell eyes. "More than I could contain." 

He held him in his arms still, whole attention purely on Giyuu. Only it wasn't

Giyuu. He wasn't... He just wasn't anymore. He was gone, had sucked in a harsh and shaky breath but never let it out.

He couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that once, only months ago, he had held Giyuu in this exact position, but Giyuu had been well. Had been smiling, had been content, had been... alive. That he was no longer, eyes half-lidded, glazed over, skin paler than snow. His body was cold and limp, useless. He had died there, in Sanemi's arms.

Yet his lips held the ghost of a smile. How could he smile? How could he be happy when he knew that he would be leaving everyone behind, be leaving Sanemi.

Then it caught up to him. Everything.

"I love you, Sanemi," Giyuu had said, barely able to form words. But he had said this to him with the last of his strength. He had smiled, then, hadn't he? 

"Your smile isn't half-bad. You're overreaction, it makes you look young. I guess you are young. But still," Sanemi said, rolling his eyes. "You shouldn't be so nervous."

"...Kocho said it was unsightly. She said she'd rather be devoured by a demon then see me smile," Giyuu mumbled.

"Kocho spews a lot of shit," Sanemi said simply. "Smile, won't you? Do it more. Maybe people will befriend you then."

"If you say so," Giyuu assented, though not without slight perplexity.

Giyuu had done it for Sanemi's sake. He had loved him so dearly, had shown his feelings through actions day after night after day, no matter what. To his very end, his affection didn't crumble for a second.

This realization only enveloped Sanemi with grief all over again, feeling the unconditional love towards him too great. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to have met someone so devoted, so perfect like Giyuu sitting in his memories. But he would cherish it all. He would recount each day he'd had with Giyuu over and over until the day he could be laid to rest beside his lover. Giyuu was everything to him. He would never let himself forget that. 

×××

« Word count: 1181 »

goshh i love them too much

[newtthetranswriter]

Would you do a fluff with a hint of angst Chifuyu request of Chifuyu being extra clingy and affection with his s/o after Takemichi tells him the truth about their future and tells him his future wife (aka his current girlfriend) is also killed by Kisaki? Also feel free to make it gender neutral if you’d prefer!

(Art by me)

A/n: Hello anon, I love this idea. I hope I did it justice, and I hope you enjoy it. I hope it’s okay that I made the reader Mitsuya’s younger sister, it just felt like it fit for the way it was going. Feel free to request more or just chat. I hope you have a good day and remember to hydrate or diedrate. Requests are still open.

Word count:881

Paring: Chifuyu Matsuno x Mitsuya!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of canon death, not great clingy writing from an arospec person

      To say Chifuyu was stunned was an understatement. He just found out that in the future not only is he married to his current girlfriend but they are killed at the hands of Kisaki. Multiple feelings were running through his head, happiness and joy that he and Y/n worked out even twelve years from now, but also sadness that his loyalty to the true vision of Toman gets her killed. What was he supposed to do? He could break up with her and save her from being stuck with him or he could help Takemichi stop Kisaki. Yeah that sounded like a good plan, just stop Kisaki instead of coming up with a shit lie to end a perfect relationship.

      Chifuyu was pulled from his thoughts when Takemichi spoke again. “You can’t tell anyone. Who knows what it would do to the future.” He stated like it wasn’t obvious. “I honestly shouldn’t have told you, it all just slipped out.”

      Calming his freaked friend, Chifuyu spoke. “Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone, they’d call me crazy if I went around spouting about the future. Let’s go get some food, and figure out a plan, Ok?” He asked, still shaken from the information but trying to push down his anxieties about it all.

     After discussing plans with Takemichi, they decided that at the Captain’s meeting, Takemichi would try to bribe Mikey into not letting Hakkai leave Toman, Chifuyu bid his friend good night and head home. Once home he sent a quick text to his girlfriend, nothing crazy just an ‘I love you, and hope you have a good night’. Now on the other end of the text conversation, Y/n was confused, sure a good night text was normal, but why that phrasing their conversations were normally just quick and shortened texts because let’s be honest texting on these phones sucked. Brushing off the confusion, y/n responded with her own simple ‘good night’ and fell asleep, after all Chifuyu was probably just being clingy, he did lose a close friend a month ago so it’s fine.

    The next day before the Captain’s meeting, Chifuyu opted to invite Y/n out for a lunch date. Y/n wanting to spend time with her boyfriend happily agreed, meeting him at their normal lunch cafe.

     “Hey Fuyu, not that I don’t love the spontaneity, but what’s with the random lunch date? Isn’t there a captain’s meeting today?” She asked as they entered the cafe. Y/n was in the loop with everything Toman, not only was she dating the vice captain of the first division, but she’s also the second division captain’s younger sister. 

    “Uhhh, yeah there is. I just wanted to spend some time with you beforehand.” Chifuyu responded, grabbing her hand. He led her over to the counter quickly ordering their usuals and paying before she could protest. Once their order was placed they walked over to a booth in a back corner to sit and chat. 

    As Y/n took her spot on one side of the booth, she was confused as Chifuyu slid in right next to her, normally when it was just the two of them they sat across from each other, so this was odd. “Chifuyu, why are you sitting there?” She asked, trying to understand his weird behavior.

    He just shrugged and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “So how has school been going?” He asked, trying to shift the topic from his random clingy behavior.

    They spent the next hour chatting about random things and enjoying their lunch. But Y/n couldn’t help but notice that no matter what was happening Chifuyu always had a hand somewhere on her, whether it was his arm across her shoulders while they talked or his hand brushing her leg as they ate. She didn’t want to seem put off by the affection so she once again brushed it off as still being clingy after Baji passed. It was harder not to question it when they were leaving. Normally at the end of a date they would share a quick kiss and hug, before going their separate ways if they hadn’t planned to do more, but it seemed like Chifuyu didn’t want to let her go. 

   “You need to go, you have that meeting to go to.” Y/n said, gently pushing Chifuyu off her. He hesitated for only a second longer before releasing her, pulling away with what Y/n would describe as a sad smile making her concerned. “Are you ok? What’s wrong?” She asked cupping his cheeks.

   Chifuyu just kept smiling and brushing her hands with his. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just love you so much.” He said getting ready to leave.

   Y/n just looked at him confused for a second, before chuckling. “Love you too, now go before Taka calls me asking why I’m keeping you from the meeting.” Chifuyu let out a laugh at that, placing a final kiss to her cheek and running off. She was left standing in front of the cafe staring after her boyfriend’s retreating figure. Sure he was acting a little strange, but you know what, she would take a clingy Chifuyu over a distant Chifuyu any day of the week, so she’ll let it slide for now.

[murrpa]

I can’t even fathom the emotions I’m experiencing while listening to Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx as I’m reading my post from earlier

Like yes, hell yeah I’ll make this a fic

[lov3-sweet]

Someone Please

just listen to what I have to say for a WizardBrave idea

I need to see an angsty fluff Fanfic or Writing prompt of these two so badly that if I don't see one in the near future I will explode

[formerlycookierunauprompts]

I'm a sucker for fluffy prompts...maybe something with sleepy cuddles with shadow milk? (I apologize If this is a bit vague I'm not the best at wording things like this, haha.)

so I may have felt like doing a bit of pre-corruption Shadow Milk writing... :3 anyways enjoy!!

Requested Prompts #22 - 💝💓

You stalked through the halls of the Spire of Knowledge, if your gut feeling was correct then surely Shadow Milk Cookie was not taking a break like you told him to... Again. And sure enough, upon entering his room, you found him slumped over his desk surrounded by books, papers and the like. All in the pursuit of knowledge, was always his excuse for overworking himself. You certainly didn't like it, but what could you do to stop someone who was quite literally a giant most of the time? You sigh, at least you didn't have to climb tables and walls and basically anything just to talk to him. Blessed be the witches that you were baked with the ability to create portals. So, with a quick portal on up, you were standing on the table. " Shadow Milk Cookie," You began, stern and concerned. " What have I told you about staying up so late?" You see him stir, his blue eyes flickering open before settling onto your tiny form. " Reader Cookie..." He mumbled out, resting a hand behind you. " I didn't mean to this- yawn- time..." You sigh, he must have lost track of the time again. You let him press you against his cheek, as some sort of weird abstract cuddle sort of thing. " Alright, alright. Just make sure to get to bed soon, it's three AM." " Yeah yeah... i get it..." He mumbled, already drifting back asleep. It was hard to not see him as adorable sometimes, yet he worked too hard! If only you were big like the saviors, then you'd be able to do something more. But you still do as much as you can with your small stature, and so far it's been enough. But... There might come a time where you won't be enough. But it's probably far off in the future, so it won't be a problem... Right? ... Right.