#quite heal and every so often it hurts like it was just broken if that makes sense?

[madigoround]

💜

[harmoonix]

Short solar return observations

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

H a r m o o n i x

*This chart has nothing to do with your natal chart, Solar return charts happen every year *only* after your birthday. Not before, so make sure to make your solar return chart only after your birthday has passed* 🪽☀️

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

Saturn in the 7th house = Relationships can be a struggle or hard to understand for you this year. You may spend some time alone thinking of your past relationships and healing yourself (for those who may have been broken up)

Sun in the 1st house = You got a lot of focus upon yourself this year. You may shine this year and everything looks nice for you

Pluto in the 4th house = Maybe moving from your home/house somewhere else? Intensity and changing in your family members lives

Venus in your 10th house = You can experience a good glowup this year. Maybe at your job or workplace (if you work) maybe you met a lover this year at your job

Mars/Lilith/Saturn or Pluto in the 11th house = May bring fake friends or arguing with your friends a lot this year, be careful to not get betrayed by friends

Sun in the 6th house = You have to focus a lot on yourself this year, maybe on your needs and on your health is very needed. You may also look for a job to work for or you may adopt a pet

Moon in the 8th house = You can find yourself being very intense and moody this year, you may be surrounded by people who have been hurt by others this year and you can help them

Uranus in the 7th house = You can met unexpected people this year, or even having relationship with them. It may be any kind of relationship. You can end up with an unexpected circle of people

Aries/Leo Moon = You can gain a lot of confidence this year, trusting yourself more everyday and get stronger day by day

Gemini Rising/Mercury/Moon = You can find yourself being more communicative and more social this year, you can end up with having good conversations with others and gain a good social life

Sagittarius Mercury in your Solar Return chart can indicate learning a new language or having a passion towards learning a new language in that year

Having your solar return chart with the same placements as you natal chart can indicate that the specific year may be an easy year for you

Pisces Moon/Venus in your solar return chart can indicate a lot of love towards your passions, whatever passion you have make sure to follow it and to complete it

Leo Rising in your solar return chart can indicate a big glow up about the way you view yourself in that specific year, you can change a lot of things about yourself

Aquarius Venus or Aquarius in the 7th house can indicate meeting a lover online or having an online relationship that year, maybe even making friends in online

Cancer Moon/Cancer Rising can indicate spending more time with your mother in that year, like having a good bound between a mom - child relationship

Jupiter in the 9th house in your solar return chart can indicate good grades in your school. Having luck at your school/highschool/university etc but also traveling a lot in that year

Venus - Chiron aspects in your solar return chat indicate healing yourself and the traumatic episodes that may happened in the past.

Saturn in the 1st house = Can indicate a fear about their appearance or maybe an insecurity about the way they look, you'll improve yourself a lot when you have this placement in your solar return chart

Virgo Moon/Virgo Rising can indicate that you may tend to focus on work and on your health, but also you can be quite criticizing that year, you can blame yourself a lot when you have this placement

Aries/Mars in the 4th house = Intensity around their family, you may have arguments often in your house but there can also be that you spend less time with your family that year

Sun/Venus in the 11th house= Attracting a lot of friends or you just tend to be more into friends relationships in that specific year. Good relationships

If you work or have a job and you have Venus in you 2nd house in your SR chart you can make good money that year, you can actually be blessed financially

Jupiter in the 11th house can indicate a desire that may come true year. 11th house is also the house of desires/wishes and Jupiter will expand that way more

Pluto/Neptune in the 12th house in your SR return chart can indicate you can experience weird dreams that year, some of them can be signs from your spirits

Sagittarius Moon in your SR can mean that you may start a journal/album that year, the subject can be about whatever happens in your life in that current year

Lilith in the 1st house in your SR chart can attract a lot of envy from people that year, you may look very attractive in this specific year and that can create envy around you

Jupiter in the 2nd house in your solar return chart can indicate having luck with money and your finances.

Hekate (100) in the 12th house in your solar return chart can indicate you can have a very powerful intuition that year or you can be more aware of your spirituality

Pluto/Lilith in the 6th house can cause questions about your health in that year so if you have these placements in your SR chart make sure to call a doctor for a body check

I have seen people worrying about having Jupiter in the 1st in their SR return charts saying they can gain weight, which at some circumstances it can be right but it can show a good development of your personality that year

Moon - Saturn harsh aspects in your SR return chart can indicate being a bit anxious that year about some specific thing happening in your life or a fear that you have to let out

Mars - Moon aspects in your SR return chart can mean that you may develop string emotions like anger and frustration that year. You may need to calm down a bit when it's happening in that year

Mercury in the 5th house = Can be a good year to make a good impression about yourself in case you had bad impressions in the past

Sun in the 7th house in that year can prioritize relationship a lot, you may met someone who you may prioritize or be obsessed with that year

Mars/Saturn in the 1st > If you decide to do gym in this specific year, it can help you to gain some muscles easier, also a lot of personality development

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

✦ ✧ - Good day to everyone, have you ever checked your solar return? Your solar return will predict what happens in that specific year for you, and here I made some observations of some placements I met through some people charts, there are not quite a lot but I will make more parts of this in the future 🔜✨

✨ Have a blessed day and a very very very warming mood to be around you during this wonderful day ✨

[bubblebbg]

❝𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞: 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧❞

Mizu x Reader

- Reader in this fic is of some sort of mixed or foreign descent, but this can also be interpreted as having any trait that would make them a pariah of sorts. Warning, not proofread lol. All spur of the moment.

When you found the blue eyed stranger laying bloody on a lonely street, you took her in. You keep her warm, fed, and with mends on her wounds. Mizu knows well that there are sacrifices to be made on her path. She doesn't know just how much they can sting.

Mizu can't quite pinpoint the most irritating part of the pain. The ache of broken bones, the sting of stabs and slices, the consistent ringing in her head; everything hurts, and she supposes that like every other injury, it's all par for the course. Small price to pay for revenge. She knew she'd have to rest at some point, but she didn't expect to be incapacitated, edging on consciousness for days. Every now and then there's a sensation like coolness on her forehead, or water at her lips.

It's on day three that she becomes lucid enough to realize someone's taking care of her. Her distrustful brain is immediately sounding alarms, but her body can do little to react in such a broken state. Mizu can do nothing but lie silent and weak on this futon, sipping medicines and soups when it's brought to her mouth and being patched, cut for cut, wound for wound.

The first thing she notices about you, her caretaker, is your eyes - eyes brimming with concern and care, eyes that catch every weakness of her flesh and seek to heal. She hears your whispers of "poor thing" and "I'll get you healed up in no time". And being Mizu, her first thought is...

"Why?"

She hadn't meant to say it out loud, but she doesn't rush to take it back. Why are you, a stranger, so willing to take care of her? Why are you expending your resources on a broken thing, a mistake that any other sane person would let rot in the street where they found it?

You only smile at her, and in such a way that makes her heart race. Gentle, patient, tentative. She doesn't like it one bit, the way it pulls at doors she's kept locked for years. Her eyes focus, taking in what you look like as you stand and ready yourself to leave the room.

"I don't need your pity!" She manages to choke out. It has you stopping in your tracks.

"It's," she coughs, sputtering on words, "It's because you're just like me, isn't it? You're different. A monster."

The look on your face is one of mild amusement, an eyebrow raised and the corners of your lips upturned. She's not sure if it's that or the confidence in your next words that makes her cheeks heat up.

"I am not a monster. Neither are you."

And you're gone, leaving her to deal with the weight you've left in her chest.

𓆩… . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . …𓆪

The days turn into weeks, the weeks into months. With so many parts impaired, it'd only make sense that healing would take this long. Most of all, it's your endless patience that surprises Mizu. When she reopens a wound by carelessly trying to train despite your cautions, you're there patching it up. When she expresses her frustration with not being able to take up the sword yet, you're there reassuring her that it'll all be fine in time. You're kind when she's haughty and sarcastic (which makes her feel guilty, and thus even more indignant), and this extends to others as well. She often sees you helping children or neighbors, anyone in need. You're loved in this town.

It makes her a bit irritated, seeing your kindness bestowed on others. At first she thinks it's because she sees weakness in your actions. Then she thinks it's jealousy - why are you, someone who would otherwise be an outcast like herself, so beloved by your town? How come it didn't turn out this way for her? But when she sees you cooking enough for the both of you and the family next door, stirring slowly as the food steams, she thinks to herself, god, they're even patient when they're cooking. And then it hits her.

She is jealous, but not in the way she thought. In the way that yearns for your priority, that seeks to be the only recipient of your sweet manners and loving nature.

It doesn't help that you've grown close, too close for her liking. There have been nights spent in each other's company, saying nothing but gazing at stars. There have been conversations in which you've both laughed, some in which you cried. Mizu's mind can't help but remind her that this isn't safe; the last time she opened her heart up, it returned battered.

But this - you - feel safe. You dedicated nearly three months to healing her body, all the while you had been patching up wounds the eye can't see.

"I'm leaving," she says meekly on a warm evening, the two of you sat in a field of grass overlooking your village. You look to her and she only stares forward. You suppose it's better than her leaving without telling you, but the pain is no lesser because of the thought.

You take a deep breath and exhale before answering, "I had a feeling."

There's a long silence between the two of you. It's your turn to watch the sun setting over the trees as Mizu looks at your expression, the hints of sadness in her eyes.

"Do you... do you really have to? You are welcome here, you know. You'll always have a home here with me."

The words have Mizu choking up and suppressing the sudden and unnerving urge to cry. What you've done to her in three months still astounds her.

"I do. You know I do. I was always going to have to leave."

Mizu is caught by another urge, the urge to take those words back when she sees streams on your cheeks. You sniffle and hiccup, and it's so much less pleasant than your usual smiling disposition. It hurts in the way no blade ever could.

The sun is disappearing, and she wills herself to stand. If she doesn't, she might never go. She turns to leave and you stand as well. She stops in her tracks when you tug on her sleeve. She faces you and you slowly, carefully bring a hand to the side of her cheek. When she doesn't flinch away, you lean in close. Your lips meet in a kiss that conveys words that neither of you have the power to say.

You pull back after a moment, your forehead pressed to hers and your eyes closed. Your voice is quiet, almost inaudible when you say your goodbye.

"Break my heart once by leaving. Do not break it again by dying."

She turns and leaves while your eyes are still closed. You open them to an empty field, your palm still wet with her tears.

[zwhoreo]

Hi! Can I request a fic where the fem!reader helps Luffy to deal with the trauma of losing his brother?

omg first fic after i randomly left for 2 months!! but im back to writing angst again im in an angst phase

also i ended up not specifying anything gendered for reader, hope that’s chill that it’s x gn! i mostly reserve gendered language for smut

wake up @nina-ya i finished the fic i said i’d finish 2 months ago

nightmares - luffy x gn!reader

angst, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending

❕SPOILERS FOR MARINEFORD❕

summary: the trauma of marineford gives luffy nightmares, and you need to comfort him while he’s vulnerable and scared

contains: luffy in a distressing emotional situation, luffy is traumatized, references to marineford/ace’s death/timeskip

words: 2k

_______________________________

Luffy never used to remember his dreams. They were hazy and soft, they made him feel warm and fuzzy when he woke up, he would stretch and yawn and they’d go away so fast and so gently like butterflies flying away. And then he’d see you and hold you and kiss you until you were awake too, as excited to see you and his heart so warm and full of love.

And you were there to enjoy his dreams, he was a noisy sleeper who mumbled happy little thoughts unintelligibly into your neck, he would kick and pinch and squeeze in his sleep which you had to learn to live with because he couldn’t go to sleep without a hug and you’d be the one to give it to him all night. But he’d often end up moving and rolling around, tangling himself uncomfortably, protective instincts kicking in he'd get on top of you and lay there, starfish. When he awoke in the night he’d assume his most comfortable and close position with lazy kisses. He was so, so happy every night.

That was two years ago.

He’s still the same boy he was then, still giving you all those awkward little affections during the night that you missed so much while you were away. But now there’s more. Now, sometimes, he has nightmares. Awful ones that torment him every so often and make him upset and sad when he awakes in the dark, make him begin to cry when he realizes you aren’t in his arms anymore. You always pray for nights when he’s calm like he used to be, you make sure to massage him and kiss him as he falls asleep to coax those good dreams back and help him heal. Of course those years ago he’d get upset and scared and sometimes he wouldn’t feel well when he woke up, but that was so rare, that was when something bad had just happened and he was very stressed but it was so rare because he was so, so happy.

Luffy’s happy now, too. He hasn’t changed much, really, still an excitable, bouncy kid, always smiling, but now you have to worry about the night. You have to worry about dark thoughts and memories bubbling over when he’s most vulnerable until his body shakes and even your affection is barely enough. This is terrible for you, so unbearably terrible. You have to learn how to soothe something broken, something you love with every fraction of your shattered heart.

_________________________________

You’re asleep, a dull, unbreakable sleep, you’d curled up in Luffy’s arms when it was time for bed and you’d cuddled together and giggled and kissed until you both fell asleep in a joyful pile. Now you’re so content, you don’t even notice how Luffy had accidentally rolled away from you in the night, sheets all tangled up with you and keeping a distracting warmth.

Luffy’s dream isn’t bad at first. It’s the kind where you’re not quite there, floating above the world in just a dull picture, no sound or feeling or touch. It’s just the ocean, a bird over the sea. But suddenly the ocean is stone and the sky is fire and he’s disoriented, where is he? What’s happening? He looks at his hands and they’re red and he’s frozen in fear like you sometimes are in nightmares. He knows in his fractured, cloudy little mind that something bad is going to happen and he’s going to see that picture again. A thousand flashbulb memories are going to explode at once, in fire. In the waking world in bed he’s twitching and sweating and his eyes are shifting furiously beneath his lids, and you don’t know, you aren’t there to hold him.

Ace. Ace’s smile and his soft black eyes and they’re playing in the jungle together and running and running and now that’s gone, the fire’s back. It all happens at once, so much blood, holding something fading and dying. Heartsick over a goodbye. It’s one of those nightmares where you cry and scream so much and as loud as you can because everything’s happening to you at once, but you can’t make any sound, you’re just in a tidal wave of amplified agony. And that’s how Luffy lives in this moment, unable to make out much of anything except darkness and pain, shaking and overheating in his sleep.

But the anguish bursts all around him and then suddenly the fire’s gone and everything is quiet again and Luffy’s awake, tangled uncomfortably in the blankets, face covered in tears. He can’t catch his breath and his mind is full and blurry and empty all at once. Suddenly the darkness of the cabin is all encompassing, sickly, he wants it to be day again and for the world to feel safe and happy and oh, where are you?

Fear squeezes his heart as he tries to find you in the darkness, are you gone? He can’t handle being alone right now, he can’t do this, he searches with his hands in the dark and cries and feels the panic burning a hole in his stomach but finally he turns to his left and there you are. Sleeping. Despite all of this you’re still sleeping, curled up and breathing slowly, unaware and at peace. Luffy wants to wake you up so badly because he doesn’t want to be alone but he doesn’t want to worry you.

So he climbs into your arms and breathes you in. He buries his face in your chest and tries to calm his injured heart.

Biting his lip and shaking he tries so hard not to cry. He can’t bother you, he knows you’ll be sad and worried which he really doesn’t want. But his whole body hurts, he wants your arms to be tighter, he squeezes and squeezes begging silently for relief and for everything to go away but it wasn’t just a night terror it was a memory and memories don’t just go away. So he cries.

You’re stirred from sleep because the sound of Luffy crying is the worst thing you could possibly hear, a thousand of your own memories are brought back and some deep instinct is triggered within you, pulling you, you wake up immediately and the first thing you do is get on top of him and lock him in your arms, trying to breathe slowly so he will too.

He twitches beneath you, cloudy realization that he’s no longer alone. His arms are around you, fingers digging in, sharp pain, he’s trying so hard to make his tears stop as you hold him and stroke his face. But he’s a possessive, needy boyfriend who’s comforted by protecting who he loves. He sits up, taking you with him, he wraps his arms around you tighter and tighter and then his legs. He’s breathing heavily on your face, eyes closed, sad still but resilient. You’re pinned to him, unable to move, but you massage the tension out of his back and shoulders as best you can.

“Did you have a nightmare?” you whisper and he nods against you and holds you even tighter if that’s possible, “…do you wanna talk about it?”

So he nods very gently but he doesn’t say anything. His hands are twitching against you, scratching at your back in leftover desperation.

“Was it about him?”

Luffy leans against you, hopeless and drained, you don’t need him to answer so you just press your cheek against his and pet his hair. And his shoulders shake as he cries silently in your arms.

You rest there for a few minutes, unable to do much other than just hold him, and he whispers in your ear, “I miss him so much.” Which wets your eyes because there’s so much pain in those five words. His voice is breathy, far away.

“I know, Lu… I’m sorry.” You’re not good at this, you think. You never really know what to say because this goes deeper than words can touch.

Luffy bites his lips. He doesn’t want to cause you pain and knowing that he is, it’s just piling on top of his despair. There’s so many times he’s oblivious to how you’re feeling but when things are broken, when you’re in distress, reality tugs at the inside of his heart.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, fingers in his hair, you kiss his neck gently and the warmth is getting through to him, so gradually.

“I want him here. I just…” Luffy’s voice is breaking. And you taste fresh tears as you move your lips higher. “I miss him,” he says again.

“I know how much he meant to you. Hey, Luffy…” The slow rise and fall of your chest is slowly steadier his breath now. He looks up at you, that sadness in his eyes is almost too painful to handle but you look at him anyways, eye contact with something beautiful soothes his soul. “He’d be so proud of you. And how strong you are.”

He’s heard this before. Luffy sniffles, he knows it’s true but only so much of that can help.

“He’d be proud of you, because you never gave up, right? You kept going and you got stronger.” And you’re not talking about his physical strength, really. You tap the side of his head gently. “Up here.”

Luffy nods subtly, his tears are stopping slowly as he clings to the comfort of your words, his greatest comfort in the world is protecting people he loves, being there for someone. He’s still guilt ridden at letting his brother die for him but as long as he keeps living he’s living for Ace, honoring him, being there for him even if he’s gone.

And that’s what you say next, reading his mind. “What matters is that you’re alive. You didn’t let what he did for you go to waste, he’d be so proud of that. This is exactly what he wanted, yeah?” Your hands trace circles on Luffy’s back as you feel him relax very slowly.

“I’m so happy you’re still here,” you whisper right in his ear.

“Mhm…” Luffy’s lips find yours, hovering, just touching you. “I’m not letting you go, ‘kay?” His words are so deep and genuine. There’s heartache there but an impenetrable love, most of all. His arms are flexed around your body, he’s squeezing you and it’s almost uncomfortable but you have to let him right now.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You manage a smile which makes him smile too.

It seemed impossible for Luffy to get even more loving but he definitely was when you saw him again. You’re the one who’s getting it all, all the affection he wanted to give to his brother.

“You wanna hang out for a while?” You offer because you’re scared to let him sleep again. “It’s ok to stay up. If you’re tired tomorrow I’ll take a nap with you.”

He likes that idea. Maybe you’ll get something to eat, even take a walk on the deck if it’s not too cold. He just wants your company. He wants to spend as much time with you as he physically can to make up for everything and to show you how much love he has to give.

“I love you, mh, let’s stay up an’ hang out,” his words are quiet and gravelly from sleep and tears but what matters is he’s smiling now. He’s back to living in the moment tonight, and you’re his moment.

The next morning he’ll be completely back to himself. He’ll kiss you good morning but he’ll act like the night never happened, probably, because it’s nicer to be happy and enjoy the day. He has you, he knows everything’s going to be alright.

[charlie-lec-stories]

Drama King // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Already used to Max's shenanigans, Y/N finds out that Charles with the flu can be quite a challenge.

Warnings: None, this is fluff, fluff and even more fun. (Only one paragraph about homophobic Jos Verstappen)

Author’s Note: Gees, there's nothing worse than a guy with the flu. Also, there's a little introduction of Max and Y/N's parents and the relationship they have with their children. Rate: PG

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

She was used to Max being a drama queen, after so many years being friends, she already knew how he could turn a minimal problem into a world-ending alarm. His computer froze for 5 seconds? It was probably broken. He couldn't find his phone? He probably lost it forever. He was hungry? He couldn't function until he ate. She had fun with that, because Max's little drama stunts were never something that came without a good laugh for her. She would watch him run around the room looking for his phone, or quickly throwing a tantrum when his computer'd go slower than he'd like it. Charles was a lot more composed, which was also funny because he was the one that go into serious trouble more often. He set his dinner on fire? It wasn't that bad, he's not afraid of fire. He's at the police station because he tried to jump the fence when he forgot his keys? Just a little inconvenience and he made new friends! He hurt his hand trying to fix the toaster he just broke? Well, he has a lot more blood in his body, nothing to worry about. Sometimes she wished that Charles would take the bizarre situations he got himself into a little more seriously.

But she takes that wish back, dear God, she takes that back.

It all started with winter break, they were off season and they had been together for a year now, their first anniversary on the 26th of December. Charles, who loved to spoil his partners, decided that they deserved a week for themselves, before they all had to part for New Year's celebrations with their respective families. Plus, they knew that Max was less than happy to have to spend the holiday with his father, so the idea of chilling together, somewhere away from the world was more than appealing. The Monegasque made a reservation at a very private cabin complex, where they could be alone in the middle of nowhere, in Germany. From the 25th at night all the way to the 31st at noon, they would turn off their phones and ignore the rest of the world. Max was more than happy for that, he needed to recharge batteries before facing his father, and Y/N knew that this little trip was perfect for her to sleep all the hours she missed that season. It was the perfect plan, and it went amazing. They relaxed in the woods, lit a bond-fire, swam on the lake, and the cabin even had a jacuzzi, which they used every day. But, when they finally went back to reality on the 31st, happy memories weren't the only thing that Charles brought back home with him.

"Tu es pâle, mon garçon". (You look pale, my boy). Pascale, Charle's mother, said when he arrived at her door for New Year's dinner.

"Je vais bien, ne t'inquiète pas, Maman". (I'm fine, don't worry, Mom). She wasn't convinced, and she was proven right when Charles started coughing in the middle of their meal. The poor man started his new year with a fever.

Arthur called Lando, who made up an excuse and called Max. The Red Bull driver was supposed to spend a week with his father, Jos, the two of them going on a "healing" trip to "help Max outgrow his queerness". The moment he got the call from Lando about "Sassy being sick", he canceled his plans with his father and flew back to Monaco. His father was more than displeased with that, and didn't believe a thing his son told him, but he decided to keep his thoughts to himself. He had an already difficult relationship with his father, coming out as having two partners and having to tell him that they were his rivals was not something he needed to do at the moment. Jos Verstappen hated Y/N with passion, and it was a mutual feeling. He believed that the girl wanted to distract Max on purpose, to take advantage of that on the races. He also believed that she was trying to get into Max's pants to "trap him" with a kid. But, he would rather have her as his daughter in law than a man. He had never been as mad as when he discovered that Max was bisexual, the idea of having his son dating another man was his worst nightmare. He made it his life goal to "cure" Max and his son knew that if his father ever knew that Max was skipping his trip with him for Charles, he would straight up force Max into an asylum. Jos disliked Charles the most, after Lewis Hamilton, so if he didn't like the idea of Max dating a man, he would probably lose it with the fact that he was dating Charles.

Max made it back to Monte Carlo on January 2nd, but he called Y/N to let her know that he could take care of Charles and she should enjoy her time with her family. She had a big one, and she didn't get to see them much, he didn't want her to miss that chance. He could deal with Charles for a week, how hard could it be? She thanked him and let him know that she could fly back if he ever needed her, but he assured her that they would be alright. At the airport, he was welcomed by Lando, who coincidentally came back home from England to prepare everything for his New Year's party, a tradition he started two years prior and that was the most awaited event of the grid. The brit offered Max a ride and, together, they made their way towards the apartment that Max shared with his partners. Lando lived just a block away and offered to help out if he and Charles needed anything. He also let Max know that Oscar, Alex and George were flying to Monaco on the 4th, to help him out with the party, so there were going to be some extra hands. Max felt grateful, even if his father was not there for him, he had his grid family that loved him for who he was.

"Charlie? I'm home!". He called out when he opened the door. Usually, Charles would drop whatever he was doing to greet him and ask about his day. He was an active listener and enjoyed asking people things, but this time he was greeted by the faint sound of a cough and the pets, Pete, Charles' golden retriever, and his two cats. He dropped everything he had in hand and quickly walked to the bedroom followed by Pete. "Hey, Poepie, how are you feeling?". (Sweetie),

"I think I'm dying". Max had to actively do an effort to suppress his laugh. Charles was on the bed, the blanket up to his neck and his voice was barely over a whisper, but he was definitely not dying.

"I think you're doing pretty well!". Max said with a smile and sat on the bed next to Charles, but he pushed Max away. Pete jumped on the bed.

"Don't get close!". He yelled as loud as he could and then coughed again. "You'll get sick too and this is a nightmare".

"Charlie, it's only the flu. I'm Dutch, I'm used to cold weather and never get sick". He placed his hand on Charles' forehead and noticed that his boyfriend was burning up. "Don't worry about me".

"At least you got away from your dad". Charles said as he did the best he could to sit up. Max helped him a bit.

"Yeah, your stuffy nose definitely saved me from that". Charles smiled, his eyes shining in a mix of sadness and fever. He hated Jos for everything he put Max through.

"I'm your knight in shining armor, even when I'm sick". Max laughed out loud and Charles followed, but started coughing again.

"Okay, Sir Charles, let's make you some tea to warm up that throat".

The first night was terrible, Max didn't sleep, not even one second, Charles turning around and whimpering all night, uncomfortable and bothered by the fever. He was cold and hot, all at the same time, so he was pulling at the sheets constantly. Max wanted nothing more than to go to sleep on the couch, but he couldn't leave Charles alone. He turned the Monegasque around and spooned him to keep him from moving too much. They slept through the morning hours, until the pets woke them up asking to be fed. Max got up at lunch time to feed them and make some soup for Charles. He had two big black spots under his eyes and every now and then, a yawn would escape his mouth. Y/N texted him, asking about Charles and how he spent the night. Max didn't want her to worry, so he told her that Charles slept like a baby. It wasn't exactly a lie, never specified which type of baby, he slept like a possessed baby. Charles' fever went down through the day, but he still felt like he didn't have any strength. The medication was doing its magic, but he was probably going to get a fever again at night. And Max was right, Charles' fever came back the second night, sentencing Max to another sleepless night.

"If I die, I leave my sim to Y/N and my underwear to you". Charles told him at 3 am as they were cuddling. Max snorted, almost offended.

"I'm the one taking care of you and I get the underwear while she gets the sim?". Charles looked up at him in the dark, his eyes narrowed. "Make your own soup tomorrow, traitor".

"My underwear it's all Ferrari!". Max already knew that. "It's really important to me. I don't know what you're complaining for".

"It's a good thing you're not dying". Max chuckled and they fell silent for a few minutes.

"If I die and you don't wear that underwear, I'm haunting your ass". And he knew that Charles meant every word.

On the 4th, Lando called Max to let him know that the boys had arrived and offered to stop by and help out a bit. Charles was in a good mood, after Max promised to use the Ferrari underwear if he died, meaning that the visit was a good way to keep up his good spirits. While they waited for their friends to arrive, Max called Y/N to give her an update. She scolded him for refusing to wear the Ferrari briefs, and then she thanked him again for taking care of Charles all on his own. She was convinced that it was an easy task, Max was the drama king after all, but she was grateful anyways. Max decided not to tell her how much of a pain in the ass Charles could be, he would rather have her believing everything was alright. He took Pete out for a quick walk and then went to feed his little demons again, Sassy and Jimmy already planning on eating Charles if he let another minute pass without feeding them. Lando arrived with Oscar, George and Alex, and they all ran to the bedroom to say hi to Charles, but he had a fever again, and what they found was anything but festive.

"You look like shit". Lando said without thinking, and Max hit the back of his head.

"You don't, Charlie". But the Monegasque was already mentally writing his will.

"It's okay, dying must be the only thing that doesn't look good on me". Max rolled his eyes.

"We should help you get better". Oscar added, willing to help. The other three looked at him with their noses scrunched.

"I think we're all more useful at a safe distance". Alex looked around the room as he made the comment, looking for a place he could sit down and not get too close to Charles.

"It's just the flu, stop acting like he's got a deadly disease". But they all ignored Max as Oscar organized them to cover all of Charles' needs.

"Alex, you'll make the food. George, you'll bring Jimmy and Sassy, since Pete's already here. Lando, you'll pick a movie. I will gather all the blankets I can find. And Max...". Oscar looked at him, unsure of what Max could do. "You'll comfort him, but please, keep it decent".

"I'm not doing that while you guys are here". Max said, annoyed.

"Just making sure!". Lando laughed as he remembered the situation in the hotel room.

Oscar's plan was kind of chaotic, as always. While Max laid on the bed with his sick boyfriend, he could hear Alex fighting with the kitchen, George chased the cats around the house and Oscar opened every closet in the apartment looking for blankets. To add to that, Lando just couldn't pick a movie, going through all the streaming platforms and genres. Charles still acted as if he was dying and even though Max loved every person in that house, he was too sleep deprived to tolerate the chaos. After an hour, George walked in with Sassy and Jimmy, his shirt covered in holes and wearing kitchen gloves. He placed the cats on top of Charles and they both snuggled on his chest, purring and relaxing against their Papa. Max looked at George worried, as the brit just kept a wary eye on the cats. He couldn't help but chuckle at the situation, Sassy and Jimmy were the most loving cats in the world, but they loved to drive people crazy. Alex brought to the room the worst soup Max had ever tasted, but Charles was so sick that he couldn't even taste anything, so it wasn't a problem. Oscar placed all the blankets on top of Charles and, even though Max thought Lando would never pick anything, he actually did, and they all sat in the room to watch it together. Charles was finally asleep after 30 minutes and Max had never felt more relieved.

Around 6 pm they all left and Max took the pets to their beds. Pete slept on a pretty fancy bed that Charles had brought for him, it had Ferrari's emblem all over it, still, the dog loved his Red Bull toy, no matter how many times Charles took it away from him. Max gave Pete the toy and the dog curled up on his bed, ready to sleep, hugging the toy. Jimmy and Sassy had high beds, ones that Max had attached to the wall so they could sleep as up high as possible. He told them to go to bed, in Dutch, since it was the only language they understood, and they both obeyed instantly. If there was something that Max loved about their pets was how well behaved they were, George might not agree with that, but that seemed like George-problem to Max. After everyone was on their beds, Max went back to his room and lied next to Charles, his little snores making Max smile. Maybe they could finally sleep for a few hours. But they didn't. Charles' fever came back and he started moving around again. At some point, Max even heard him crying.

"Charles, are you okay?". Max asked as he turned Charles around to look at him and see if he could find what was hurting. "Does anything hurt?".

"I don't know!". Charles said, already done with being sick. "I just feel like shit and I'm tired and my head hurts... and... and my throat is sore!". Charles complained in between sobs. "And my nose is so stuffed! I just want to feel better and do my things, like training and going out. And I miss Y/N too".

"Charlie, it's okay". Max tried to comfort him, ignoring his own tiredness as best as he could. "Be patient, you'll feel better soon. I promise".

But Charles kept turning around all night again, coughing, mumbling, sighing loudly, blowing his nose. Max was close to losing it. There is so much time one can spend not sleeping and Max was close to his breaking point. At 4 in the morning, he got up and decided to call Y/N. She was in Buenos Aires, so it would be around midnight there, she was definitely up, no one slept early in Argentina. He felt terrible calling her to complain about their boyfriend, but Max just couldn't take it anymore, he needed to sleep and their friends were too loud and energetic to actually help. He confirmed that the day before. So she was his last resort. He sat on the toilet with the lid down, looking at his phone and re-thinking about calling her or not. She was having fun, spending some time with her family, people she missed all year round, he didn't feel comfortable ruining that, but he didn't know what to do. He heard Charles cough from the room and dialed his girlfriend's number. It rang a few times, then, he was met with the sound of music and people speaking loudly.

"Hey, Maxie, it's everything alright?". She greeted him. He could hear her friends mocking her, saying "Maxie" over and over again, her grandmother scolding them, and Y/N laughing at the situation. "Wait! It's like 4 am there. Max, is Charles alright?".

"YES". He quickly reassured her when he noticed how worried she was. She sighed in relief. "I just...".

"What is it?". He heard the noise turn down, she had probably moved away from people so they could talk better.

"I lied to you. Charles has not been easy to deal with. At all! He's terrible, and I miss my sleep and we miss you and he's coughing all the time and the guys came by and it was a mess...". He kept rambling about how the last few days had been horrible for him and she patiently listened to him. It was bad that Charles was still with a fever, that wasn't normal, since he was taking medication for that, but Max was also someone who could escalate a situation pretty quickly, so it was hard for her to know exactly if the situation was that bad. Nonetheless, she let him let it all out, once she noticed that he was done, she offered a solution.

"Listen, Amor, give me two days. Tomorrow I will say goodbyes and then I'll be on the first plane I can catch, okay?". She heard him let out a breath he had been holding. "We'll take care of him together".

"Thank you, Schat, thank you so much". He said, feeling a lot better.

On the 6th, around 8 pm, Y/N finally got back home. She slowly opened the door, Pete went to her to greet her. She patted his head and scratched the back of his ears, earning a little huff of approval from the dog. Sassy and Jimmy went next, rubbing against her legs and meowing, showing their Mamá how much they missed her. She tried to shush them, noticing that Max and Charles were probably sleeping. Quietly, she dropped her suitcase by the door and took off her shoes, walking around the dark apartment towards the bedroom. The door made a minimal cracking sound as she pushed it open softly and she cringed about it, but she discovered that her boys were wide awake inside, completely unbothered by the sound of the door. Charles was in a semi-awake state, his eyes glossy and forehead shiny with sweat, probably still with a fever. Max was next to him, his eyes tired and the bags under them prominent, like he hadn't slept in days. The Dutchman's eyes light up with her presence, the tiredness still there but now mixed with relief.

"Schat!". He jumped up and ran to her, picking her up and spinning her a few times, before he set her back down and kissed her, like his life depended on it. Maybe his sanity did. "You're here!".

"Yeah, how have you guys been?". Max was frowning at her instead of answering her question. "What?"

"Weren't coming back tomorrow?". She was the one frowning now. "I told you we could wait, I can't believe I made you leave your family so soon".

"No, Amor, I said two days, that was the day before yesterday". She went to the bed and sat down, placing her hand on Charles' face and caressing his cheek.

"No no, today's the 5th, Schat".

"Max, it's January 6th". She took her phone out of her pocket to show him the date. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I don't know...". Y/N looked at him, worried, taking into his pitiful state. Charles was still out so she got up and dragged Max to the living room. They sat on the couch and he rested his head on her shoulder.

"You should sleep here tonight, I'll look after Charlie". He hummed in agreement. "Did you guys eat already?". Max nodded. "Good, then lie down and rest".

"Thank you, Schat".

Max lied down and closed his eyes, falling asleep instantly. Y/N walked back to the room, changed for the night and got into bed with Charles. He had the flu, how bad could it be? Really bad, she discovered that night. The Monegasque spent the night complaining, she wasn't able to close her eyes for a minute. Between Charles' never ending turning and how tired she was from the trip, she was wishing she could go to the living room with Max. When the morning light came, she was still awake and extremely tired. Charles was the most annoying patient in the world. If he was complaining like that for the flu, what would he do for a stomach bug? They were lucky that Charles rarely got sick. Max went to the bedroom around 11 am, better rested and ready to treat his girl better than last night. But she was looking just as miserable as he did the past few days. Charles was finally asleep, so she got up and the two of them went to the kitchen for breakfast. Max, with more energy than her, made some Stroopwafels, while Y/N just rested her head on her hand, slumped over the table.

"I think it's time for Charles' meds, Amor". She told him after a few minutes in silence. "Where are they?".

"First drawer, my nightstand. It's a bottle that says-"

"Paracetamol, I know, my mother's a doctor, remember?". He noticed the pain in her voice, under the tiredness, but he chose not to keep up the conversation about her mother, she was not rested enough to talk about that woman. She walked back to the bedroom and opened the drawer, the bottle being the first thing she saw.

"Here's a glass of water". Max told her as she walked up to him, the bottle in her hand.

"Have you been giving Charles this?". She showed him the bottle.

"Of course, every 8 hours". He proudly answered.

"It's expired, Max". His smile dropped instantly. "This expired in 2020".

"You're fucking with me". He took the bottle from her and inspected it. "It can't be expired".

"This is so old I wasn't even in F1 when it stopped being useful". She ran her hands down her face and sighed. "I'll run to the pharmacy and buy a new one. Of course he's not feeling better, the meds don't work once they are expired, it's like giving him nothing".

Y/N brought a new bottle of medication and Charles was already feeling better that night. They all finally got some proper sleep. The next morning, Charles was a new man, back again with his good spirits and big smiles, as if he hasn't been the most over dramatic person for the last few days. Max and Y/N were still exhausted as he walked into the kitchen for breakfast.

"I can't believe you flew all the way back here just for the flu, Amour, it wasn't that serious!". He told Y/N as he took a bite of his Stroopwafels. "And I took it like a champ".

"Yeah, sure, Corazón". She said, condescendingly.

"Get sick again, Charles, and I'm personally burring you with your Ferrari underwear, you fucking Drama King".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one is pretty long, but i had fun writing it! Hope you guys like it!

[just-jordie-things]

Can you do 58 with Megumi but make it something like enemies to lovers 😊 love your writing so so much

58: Moving Around While Kissing, Stumbling Over Things, Pushing Each Other Back Against The Wall/On The Bed

**aged up characters!!** ___

megumi didn't think he was capable of despising someone this much. you got under his skin and you knew it. you'd settle in there, nestling- twisting- clawing- seemingly making yourself at home. and it didn't matter if he ignored you or if he'd snap at you with quick, bitter insults, you were an irremovable thorn in his side.

when he first met you, megumi was indifferent. you were a decent enough sorcerer that you handled your own so he wasn't thrown into training with you like gojo had him do with yuuji, and honestly, you were closer with nobara anyways, so you spent most of your time hanigng out with her.

but god, if megumi could take back that first mission he'd been sent on with you, he would. he'd get on his knees and beg that man-child of a teacher not to send him with you.

because as it turns out, he hated being assigned on exorcisms with you. you had a powerful cursed technique and you were quite confident in using it. too confident.

you were reckless.

it seemed no matter the threat you were throwing yourself on the front line, your weapon of choice imbued with the blue energy or your cursed energy, your excitement and blood lust evident. you took almost a twisted joy in exorcizing curses. megumi thinks this is the reason you were always running into the threat of a curse head first, refusing to strategize with him, and refusing to look at the big picture.

this meant that more often than not, you found yourself in the infirmary after your assignments. you always had scrapes and bruises, occasionally broken bones or concussions, too. he couldn't believe that you were so negligent, time and time again. it was like you didn't even care about getting hurt, it was like you almost enjoyed it.

the last time megumi had been partnered up for an assignment, he'd had to carry your unconscious body to shoko himself. after brazenly climbing a rather large second-grade curse, hooking your blades into it's scaly back as if you were rock climbing, you'd exorcized it with a strong swing to it's neck, sending it's head plummeting to the ground- just a few feet in front of megumi, mind you, so he'd been covered in blood so putrid he'd almost thrown up.

in your victorious pride you'd failed to realize that decapitating the beast at your height was a foolish choice, as now you were falling to the ground with a crack! that had a chill going down megumi's spine with fright. when you didn't get up right away, he'd had the manager of this assignment on the phone before he even reached you.

it makes his blood boil just thinking about it now. you'd sprained your wrist from awkwardly trying to brace yourself too late, and you'd hit your head against the pavement, hard. when megumi had lifted you, the blood had already made your hair wet and sticky, and it pooled into his hand at a speed that megumi was sure meant death was imminent. honestly he couldn't believe you'd gotten to shoko in time.

you'd been out for six days. and when you awoke, he'd screamed your ear off about how ridiculous your actions were, how if he could help it he'd never partner with you again. you were conscious for it, still fighting off a splitting headache, but you'd heard every word and you knew he meant it. you'd barely said anything, just let him rant and pace around your cot until he got it all out of his system. however, before he left, you tiredly called him a coward before you drifted back to sleep.

despite your mutual distaste in working together, you'd only been put on a small break from being partnered up- and that was mostly due to your healing period. the last month and a half of megumi working alone, or with yuuji and nobara, was only a vacation of not working with you because gojo made sure to throw a few easier assignments your way while your arm healed and the stitches at the bottom of your skull and into the nape of your neck had begun to properly scar.

once you'd regained full mobility and strength, it was only a matter of time before you were thrown into an assignment with megumi again.

because the truth of the matter, was that you worked perfectly together.

even with you swinging your weapons with abandon, megumi seemed to be able to read your every move before you made it. he chalked that up to simply knowing how to match his partner's fighting style, but gojo always insisted the pair of you shared a synergy like no other.

megumi thinks gojo just liked throwing fancy business words around to confuse people, and maybe that worked with the others, but he always rolled his eyes at that word.

because to him anyone could have synergy if they fought alongside each other for long enough- at least this is what megumi convinced himself of.

he'd never really thought twice about how with one look, you were able to switch off fighting styles- sometimes this even meant throwing your weapons towards one another- and you would take defense while he took offense- etc. he'd never really thought about how even though it felt like he had to keep an eye on you, your exorcism-driven rage meant you were always ready for an attack, and that made you more than capable of watching his back too.

and he especially hadn't noticed how his shikigami seemed to have his same ability of predicting your next move, too.

even if he conjured nue for a surprise attack from the sky, if you happened to be in trouble, the owl-like shikigami was swooping to your aid. if your weapon was knocked out of your grasp, his divine dog was leaping in to cover you with snapping fangs. if he summoned the toads, one always seemed to flutter up to your shoulder to watch your back. and god forbid he went for rabbit escape- damn things loved to swarm you with fluff and nuzzles.

and tonight's assignment was no different. except that you've been sent overseas. and except that maybe that it's the first time he does notice his shikigami's parter

his divine dog is darting out of his sight suddenly, and megumi notices instantly this time, seeing as he'd just commanded it to go after this curse's throat, and instead it's running in your direction.

bewildered, megumi whirls around, watching as it barks and howls as it runs to you.

you, who's laying on the ground.

when did that happen? fuck! what happened? fuck! were you conscious? fuck! had you been there long? fuck!

his mind is operating at a million thoughts in a minute, before he snaps into reality and strategizes what the plan would be now that you're out of the equation and this grade one curse is still trying to tear him in half.

and while he lunges towards it with his blade aimed for the throat, he find he can't help but keep you in his peripheral vision.

his divine dog is standing over you protectively, snout nudging at your shoulder, but you don't move. your arm falls lifelessly to the ground.

as he approaches the curse he sees there already is a deep gash on it's throat, certainly an effort made by you before you'd been struck down. and despite the heavy rage and concern you'd shoved onto his shoulders as soon as he'd seen you rlimp body on the ground- again- megumi's face morphs into a twisted grin.

because you'd just made this all the easier.

it only takes on swing for him to slice through the rest of the way, his blade tearing through muscle and tissue, taking it's head clean off. a signature move of yours, that for a moment, megumi understood why you enjoyed it so much. because it felt fucking amazing.

the moment he relishes in is short lived, and once the curse is taken care of he's racing over to you and his shikigami.

there's no pool of blood this time, is the first thing he notes, which is a little bit of a relief, he supposes.

what does concern him is the fact that his shikigami is whimpering, nose pushing against the back of your head, before moving to lay by your side, laying it's head on the ground as it watches you carefully, protectively.

megumi doesn't know where this action comes from. while his shikigami did hold a certain for him, as their conjurer, but he'd never seen this.

"it's alright, don't worry," he mumbles setting his hand in the space between the dog's ears. before sending it back to it's domain.

he kneels quickly in front of you, carefully grabbing you by your shoulders to move you onto your back and check for your injuries. to his surprise, you let out a groan and are able to twist yourself just enough to flip off of you stomach.

"what happened?" megumi's quick to question you once he realizes you're at least a little conscious.

"i'm fine" you say, but your face is contorted into a wince and there's a groan erupting from your chest.

"can you even sit up?" megumi scowls at you, but you don't see. you're hissing and arching your back to keep it off the ground, and megumi realizes he's going to have to get you out of here- again.

he's not afraid to tell you the whole way back to the hotel you're staying at too. it's a bit of a hassle to half-carry you into the building without alerting staff or other patrons, but still, he's muttering reckless and idiot and stupid like a mantra.

when you get to the conjoined rooms you protest, but megumi's still muttering as he drags you into his side of the room.

"we gotta get you patched up. unless you want to bleed out in your sleep?"

"i can do it myself" you shove him off you, making him scoff as he grabs the medical kit out of his bag.

"knew i would need this," he's still muttering, pointing for you to sit on the end of the bed. "just cause of you of course"

"i told you i can do it myself" you snap back at him, and megumi's not sure why this is the last straw for him but he's tearing open a gauze patch with more furosity than he'd shown exorcizing the curse earlier.

"you clearly fucking can't!" he also doesn't mean to yell, but he get's wrapped up in his irritation and he gets carried away rather quickly. "i mean- you were barely out there for ten minutes, i look over, and you very well could have been dead!"

"you'd like that wouldn't you?" you grumble unde your breath, snatching the guaze pad out of his hand and rolling your shirt up to inspect the slash at your hip. lucky for you, it wasn't deep, but it was a long swipe of claws, so it was a nasty looking thing.

"is that what you think?" megumi snaps, and he's reaching out to get the bandage back out of your hand. "you think i want my partner dead?"

"you sure like to complain about everything i do, so, yeah, megumi, you've made it abundantly clear that you'd have a easier time if i wasn't there!"

megumi huffs at the accusation, beyond pissed with you now. were you really so dense to think such a thing?

and yet while he bandages up your would, his every touch is gentle, and he even mumbles an apology when you hiss at just the wrong amount of pressure in the wrong spot.

"you can't seriously be upset with me," he scoffs. "just cause i'm sick of this always happening"

"what are you talking about?" you furrow your brows as you push your shirt back over the bandage, your hands balling into fists as you stand from the bed.

"i'm talking about you always getting yourself hurt!"

megumi's eyes are wide and his brows are furrowed as he gives you that look. the one that tells you he thinks you're an idiot. something he's good at doing, even without words.

"i swear, i don't know why they pair me up with you. i don't know what gojo sees that i'm missing, but clearly he's as delusional as ever. you shouldn't even be on the field!"

that had your patience snapping (and your heart breaking)

"i shouldn't be on the field?" you scoff back at him, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. "do you even like protecting people?"

"what the hell does that have to do with anyting? of course i do!"

"well it's hard to tell! you're so goddamn stoic all the time, sometimes i can't tell the difference between you and- and-"

"and what?"

you bite your tongue, trying not to say something you can't take back, but megumi's glowering at you and you're so mad just looking at his stupid face that you let it out.

"and the curse" your words are low, but they're just as sharp as when you were yelling back at him.

megumi scoffs. he rolls his eyes.

you don't think he's ever taken you seriously.

"you're so ridiculous. i swear to god- i've dealt with your recklessness for the last time. i won't be pairing up with you for another assignment again. i'm done"

"oh please," you let out a bitter laugh, a snicker that hits his ears and buries deep into his skin. nestling, twisting, clawing. "as if i'd ever choose to partner with you!" you're yelling again, and it makes your head hurt, but you don't care. because he hurt you first. and you're not retreating to your own room before returning the favor. "i only agree to it because gojo knows and i know that it's worth it. even if i have to put up with all your snide comments and- and just rude behavior! you're a child, you know that?"

"i'm the child!?" he's darting in front of you now, before you have the chance to make a break for the door. you have half the mind to push him, to shove him hard and storm out of the room.

hell, if you called ijichi now, you might even have him book your the first flight back to tokyo.

but you stand in place and scowl at him, because you can't have him thinking you're running away from him.

"you run into every assignment without looking both ways!" megumi throws his arms out, and you can see his hands are shaking. "you get yourself injured, every, single, time, (y/n), and it's exhausting"

"exhausting?" you repeat with a scoff.

"yeah," megumi narrows his eyes at you. "exhausting"

"oh, i'm sorry," your lips curl into a gruesome smile, a threatening snarl, held by an irritation only he could bring out of you. "i didn't realize that my coma was so hard on you! were you tired megumi? hm? that was exhausting for you?"

he's fuming. you can see his teeth gritting together, his nostrils are flaring, and you've never seen so much emotion in his eyes- much less this much disgust. you've thoroughly pissed him off, and you know you should be giving him faux apologies and pleasantries because he's your equal, your ally, your partner, but you can't help but feel pride blossom in your chest, knowing you've bothered him this much.

"yeah, it was!" he yells back in your face. "can't you wrap your fragile mind around the idea that maybe it was hard on me to think you'd died!?"

you blink, your expression falling from it's sick pride, replaced quickly by confusion.

"when you're my partner, and i'm supposed to make sure you're alright, it's infuriating to turn around and not know if you're even fucking breathing!"

megumi's still yelling, but your ears are no longer pounding with your own rage boiling in your blood. his words echo clearly in your mind now, and you stare at him in bewilderment as he continues to rant.

"did you even ever fucking think about how that makes me feel?" he asks, but he doesn't give you the time to answer. "you were knocked out for a week, (y/n). if i hadn't gotten you back when i- if shoko hadn't gotten to the infirmary in time-"

he begins to shake his head, a humorless laugh falling from his lips as he has to look away from you. you were making him too angry. and worried. the emotions brewed inside of him and it made him sick to his stomach. you made him sick to his stomach.

no, you made him worry sick over you.

and you could see that now. watching him unravel in front of you, it was like the final piece of the why is megumi upset with me all the time puzzle. he cared about you. in his own way, and he had a weird way of showing it, but he cared about you.

and you were a reckless, proud piece of shit that didn't even care about yourself.

"i-" you start, but you're still not given a chance to speak.

"i don't even want to hear whatever stupid excuse you have for acting like that," he turns back to you before you even get a full syllable out. "i mean it, (y/n), i'm done. i can't take it anymore. i- i really thought i let it happen again, you know that?"

you blink at him, your eyes round and focused as you watch his look of anger fall to something else, something sadder. is this what his concern really looked like?

this is why you had been woken up by his divine dog pawing at your arm. it wasn't the shikigami breaking megumi's orders, it was worried about you, because megumi was worried about you.

your heart stutters in your chest at the sudden realization. it's all fitting together in your mind and you find that it makes you feel...

like an idiot.

"if you- if you'd actually died..." megumi trails off, hanging his head back to stare at the ceiling bitterly, as if the old worn paint would give him the strength to walk away from you.

you seize his moment of silence, and you move quickly.

you're darting towards him, your hands grabbing his collar, drawing his attention back to you in a quick, almost horrified manner. his eyes are wide and his brows almost rise into his hairline.

you hesitate, as does he, your eyes moving quickly between one another's, each trying to read the other person's silent reaction, both too afraid to actually say something in that brief moment where you're standing so close he can see the slight scar poking around the curve of your neck. megumi's eyes stay on that spot for a long moment, before he's looking back at you.

and then you're pressing closer, leaning onto the tips of your toes and holding onto his collar so tight it actually yanks him down towards you. he doesn't find his breath to protest before you're kissing him.

he blinks, his eyes wide and still staring at you, and you're kissing him.

a few seconds delayed, his hands fly to grab you by the jaw. but he doesn't pry you off of him. his eyes fall shut and he's holding your face firmly in place so that he can properly slant his lips over yours.

you try to take a breath in between kisses but he gives you no time to do so, making a whimper suffocate and be swallowed down your throat. you inhale sharply through your nose instead.

your hands release the collar of his uniform only for you to throw your arms around his neck, latching on snugly, and pulling him down, down, down, until you're standing flat on your feet and he's towering over you in an attempt to keep your mouths sealed.

you have to admit, you didn't expect so much eagerness, but you can't complain as his lips dominate over yours, melting you down to putty in his hands.

"i'm sorry," you mumble into his mouth, not bothering to break away, knowing he won't let you. "i'll be more careful next time"

you're huffing for air, and megumi does you the favor of pulling away, just a little bit, just enough that you can catch your breath, and he can look at you.

he wasn't expecting you to kiss him, but he certainly wasn't expecting you to apologize to him.

your eyes meet his, full of an emotion he's never seen before. concern? is this what your concern looked like?

"it's alright," he finds himself forgiving you instantly, calloused thumb tracing along the edge of your jaw, while he looks at you like you're something new he'd just discovered.

and maybe to a certain degree, you are, because he's never seen this side of you before. the self awareness you showed now struck deep, and he believed you when you spoke.

"i'm sorry too" he mumbles, brows furrowing as the cruel words he'd said to you replay in his head now, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

you don't say anything, you just reach up on your toes again so that you can keep kissing him, and he seems to understand that you forgive him, too.

and you pull him then, much like you'd wanted to earlier but now you have a new fervor of intention as your feet move backwards and you're tugging him along to blindly follow. neither of you deem it necessary to break apart as he gets the idea and tries to guide you in the right direction.

the back of your heel hits the dresser and you groan in dull pain and surprise, and still, you don't bother to part your lips from megumi's for even a second. in fact, you card your hands through his hair and move even faster.

you're kicking off your shoes in the process, and megumi trips over them as he tries to take his off in the same fashion, although it's difficult without his hands and without looking, he puts up with the task anyways, his mouth straying from yours as his hand pushes your chin up so he could trail kisses down your jaw and then down your neck.

you hum, your hands fumbling as they try to hastily unbutton his jacket. you're still trying to make your way further into the room but you don't exactly have your bearings, but just as you have his jacket open your legs are hitting the back of the mattress.

megumi practically drops you onto it before shoving the material off his arms and following you quickly. his arms brace himself at either side of your head, as he doesn't want to put an ounce of his bodyweight on you, seeing as you were injured after all.

"you'll still be my partner?" you mumble before he can kiss you again.

"we'll talk about it in the morning" he speaks through a heavy breath, about to lean in to capture your lips again, but you put a hand to his chest.

"you know," you raise an eyebrow at him as he looks confused as to why you stopped him. "if you're still my partner, there will be many more hotel rooms in the future"

he blinks, your words processing slowly, and then he's smiling, and letting out a small chuckle.

"you drive a hard bargain, (y/l/n)"

you grin, finally pulling him down towards you.

"i know what i want, fushiguro" ___

a/n: got carried away again no one's surprised ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

xoxo ~ jordie

[yanderes-galore]

rose quartz (SU) with human darling (Platonic/Romantic) Hcs 🪲 [Shiny Bug Anon]

Oh cool :0 This could be fun, lol. I haven written for Rose before...!

Yandere! Rose Quartz with Human! Darling

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Condescending behavior, Clingy behavior, Fear of loss, Isolation, Blood mention, Dark themes, Jealousy, Forced companionship/relationship.

Rose has been known to have a fascination with humans.

This is evident in the show where she's curious about them, often learning about them through Greg.

She sees humans as cute and funny... they're adorable little creatures to her.

I imagine she gets with Greg at some point for the sake of Steven, but imagine if she was fond of another human first?

Before she and Greg got together officially, she found you.

You're younger than Greg and might even be curious of her like she is of you.

Rose is described as caring and loving of those she's close to.

She's curious and sees beauty in all life.

Yet humans seem to be her favorite.

When she looks at you, she thinks you have a natural attractive beauty to you.

She wants to know you more.

In fact, it's canon that Rose isn't quite sure how human love works compared to Gems.

Be that platonic or romantic love... she isn't quite sure how either works.

Which makes her unsure how exactly to act upon her feelings towards you.

I can see Rose accidentally being condescending towards you.

She tries her best to see everyone as equal... but she can't help but coo over you like a pet.

She just thinks her human is so darn cute.

Although... she does worry about getting attached at first-

After all, you're human.

Your lifespan is so short compared to her.

But we'll get into that later....

Eventually she can't help herself.

You're too interesting for her and she can't help but be drawn to you.

Due to her curious nature, Rose may also be a bit... invasive.

She struggles with boundaries, often curiously prodding at you and asking invasive questions.

You try your best to keep up with it... she is an alien, after all.

Rose listens to every word you say with sparkles in her eyes.

She likes to learn more about you and humans in general.

She's adventurous and may even want to take you along on exploration.

Well... on anything that won't get you hurt.

Rose doesn't seem that bad, she's actually caring and adores you...

Unfortunately, things do take a darker tone eventually... this is still Pink, of course.

Rose is deceptive and a bit selfish.

She worries she'll lose you due to how fragile humans are.

She know doubt learns of your fragility by an accident.

Imagine Rose took you out to explore an area, only for you to get hurt.

The Gem freezes when she looks you over, seeing blood seep out of a few cuts you have.

The good news is she can heal... but seeing you with anything from bruises to a broken bone freaks her out.

It reminds her that humans aren't like Gems.

Your life can end much easier than hers can.

Rose's obsession is not just driven by curiosity... It's also her fear.

This was the reason she didn't want to be attached in the first place.

But... she can't help it.

You look so cute in her arms... your curiosity reminds her of herself.

Rose would do anything to protect those close to her.

Such a trait sounds selfless... yet towards you it's selfish.

Why?

Well, Rose refuses to acknowledge that all life... including yours... has an end.

A known power of Rose, other than healing, is resurrection.

If she doesn't want something to die... she'll change it.

Imagine if Rose is so scared of you dying... She makes you immortal.

She's too fond of you to just let you die.

Which means she'd use her powers to make you live longer.

Sure, you'll be a pink color now...

But you'll still be hers, in fact, the color you have now only proves it.

Yeah, this is what makes her behavior selfish.

She curses you with a longer lifespan to keep you as hers longer.

Not only that, but she probably begins to isolate you.

She is definitely one to tell you that all of what she does is for your benefit.

In reality... she doesn't want to let her human go.

It only works in her favor when people distance themselves from you due to your changed appearance.

It's true... that pink tint you have now is like some sort of brand.

Soon you're not hanging out with many other humans other than Greg.

Rose is always around you, when she can't be, the Crystal Gems are around you.

Rose is selfish about her human.

She purposefully takes your attention away, often feeling jealousy towards you interacting with other humans.

It's a... toxic emotion.

She knows she should allow you to thrive with your kind.

Yet in the end she claims you as hers, again, oddly like a pet or toy.

Perhaps she keeps you at the temple/beach house?

She is still very affectionate and curious as ever... even if you feel dejected due to what she's done to you.

She doesn't let you leave her home.

Maybe she even keeps you in her room?

She can create whatever you want there.

Rose just wants you to be happy.

Although... it often seems like she prioritizes her own happiness most of the time

When you're alone she holds you close, her touch delicate and soft as though you'll break.

When you ask to go outside, she turns it down.

The only time you're free from captivity again is when she makes Steven.

Imagine if you were still affected by her obsession even after she creates Steven.

She does imply in the show that she influences Steven's emotions (iirc-).

So... what happens if her obsession develops in Steven?

I'm talking Steven feels drawn to you but isn't sure why.

Of course it's platonic for most of the events of the show.

But it could change in Future when he's older.

You're cursed with being forever young... all because you got too close to an alien.

Now you have a Gem/Human hybrid who won't leave you alone.

But that's just a thought!

Overall, Rose may seem very interested and kind with her human obsession.

Yet catching her attention isn't really a good thing...

Especially if it means you'll never leave her... even when she's gone.

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

The Lark Ascending: A Chaconne Story (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: Five years after leaving your heart in New York to chase your dreams in Vienna, you're finally a rising star in the classical music world. After scoring your biggest gig yet- a soloist job for a summer concert series in LA- you discover that the past isn’t as distant as you’d thought.

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Hello friends, welcome to the Chaconne sequel, The Lark Ascending! This story is very near and dear to my heart and I’m so excited to be posting it. The inspiration for this fic is from one of my favorite pieces of the same name, The Lark Ascending. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to let me know what you think!

Being a musician was all about sacrifice; you had to be willing to get to the top by any means necessary. You couldn’t just give it your all, it had to be more than that. But what happens when that wasn’t enough? What happens when you have it all just within reach, but no matter how hard you try you can’t quite get there? Those were the questions you had asked yourself when you first moved to Vienna. It seemed like no matter what you tried, how many hours you practiced, it wasn’t right. There was something missing. You did everything you should have, you moved to Vienna (although that wasn’t entirely your idea to begin with), you performed night after night with your blood, sweat, and tears, all while healing a broken heart.

It felt like you had all of the pieces to the puzzle in front of you, but they didn’t fit together. Or rather, you didn’t fit. There was something missing, and no amount of practicing could fix that. There was a small voice in the back of your mind whispering that there was a reason you didn’t make it into the Manhattan Symphony. Agatha would always say how much progress you were making, how much potential you had, that there was promise, but you wondered just how true that was; how much of it she really meant. You had been doing a lot of thinking on your relationship with Agatha lately.

The first few months after you moved to Vienna, you couldn’t even say her name without crying. There were reminders of her everywhere you turned. The coffee shop near your apartment, the rehearsal hall where you spent most of your time, every park you strolled through. You’d stumble upon small things, like a review for a new play, or interesting theories on post-modern music, and subconsciously want to share them with her. A beautiful sunny day, the flowers blooming in the ground, the wind whistling in the distance, the way the dew sparkled on the grass after a thunderstorm, everything was Agatha. You knew they called Vienna “The City of Dreams”, but you never anticipated all of your fantasies to revolve around the same woman. How were you supposed to get closure when she was thousands of miles away?

Your solace came, unsurprisingly, in the form of music. Vienna was the birthplace of some of classical music’s great forefathers, and there was inspiration all around you. Performing with Natasha and her chamber orchestra was like a breath of fresh air, and with every performance you slowly found yourself again. It wasn’t entirely true when they said time heals all wounds, because you weren’t sure you’d ever heal from the scar of leaving Agatha, but with every month that passed you found it hurt less and less. You often thought you would always love her, but this was for the best, you knew it was.

Eventually, it felt like everything was falling into place. Performing with a prestigious group that featured world renowned soloists like Wanda Maximoff meant you were able to make the right connections. You worked harder than you ever thought possible, and channeled your grief into your music to push you forward. It paid off in the end, and with Natasha and Wanda’s help you eventually entered a rising soloist contest.

Getting over your fears of inadequacy was another story. You knew that the one thing that was missing was your ability to believe that you were good enough; that you had always been good enough. No amount of practicing could convince you of that either, it had to come within yourself.

In the days leading up to the competition, you had a breakdown in front of Wanda that changed the way you saw yourself.

You set your violin down on the piano, ignoring Wanda’s concerned glance in your direction. “I think I need to drop out of this competition. I’m nowhere near ready.”

Wanda frowned, looking over the sheet music you had handed her earlier. “What are you talking about? You have everything memorized. You sound really good.”

“I don’t feel ready,” you argued, staring at the floor, trying to ignore the tightening of your chest at the thought of competing that weekend.

“No one ever feels ready for these sorts of things,” Wanda pointed out, and you knew she was trying to help, but you weren’t in the mood to hear it.

“I’ve never had the best luck with these sorts of things,” you reminded her. “I think I need to accept that this kind of dream isn’t feasible for me.”

“Why do you keep getting in your own way?” Wanda questioned, moving the sheet music to the side, her tone curious.

“I’m not getting in my own way,” you politely informed her. “I’m being realistic.”

“Nothing about this, about what we do is realistic,” Wanda corrected you, standing up from her seat. “I never thought I’d make it as a soloist, but I had to believe in myself enough to try. If you can’t even give yourself that, then you’re right; this isn’t feasible for you.”

Her words sat with you for a moment, and as you took it in, you felt the tightening in your chest begin to break until you could breathe again. She was right, you knew it deep down. As silly as it sounded, you had to give yourself a chance.

That ended up being the first competition you ever won, much to your surprise and Wanda’s delight.

Things began to look up after that. You slowly entered more competitions, and eventually you made enough of a name for yourself to begin soloing with various orchestras. It was nothing you could have ever imagined in your wildest dreams, but it was real. You did it. In spite of the heartache and pain, you did it all.

The past year proved to be your busiest yet. You had been booked solid with performances across the U.S. with a wide variety of orchestras, and your schedule wasn’t slowing down just yet. You would be spending your summer in Los Angeles, and you were still in disbelief.

If you had told yourself five years ago that you would be the featured artist in residence of the Los Angeles Symphony’s summer season, you would have thought it was a joke. Being the premiere performing symphony on the entire west coast, they had a stellar reputation and drew in huge crowds. Stephen Strange was a legendary conductor who you had always dreamed of getting to work with. It almost felt too good to be true.

You made it to the symphony center a little earlier than you planned, but with the unpredictability of LA traffic you didn’t want to risk being late. All that was on your agenda for the day was a meeting with the CFO of the board, Tony Stark, and a short rehearsal. But, you were hoping to get a quick peak of the concert hall while it was still empty. There weren't many people around this early in the day, but you had little trouble navigating yourself around until you found the backstage door.

The concert hall was pitch black, and you fumbled with the switches backstage before managing to flip on a single stage light. You wouldn’t need anything more than that, surely. Stepping on the stage you looked out at the vast concert hall, which seemed to hold hundreds of empty seats, and you pictured what it would be like to step out to thunderous applause. None of your previous experiences performing as a soloist had ever been for an audience of this size, and you silently came to the realization that the crowd at the Hollywood Bowl would be even larger. A familiar tingle of nerves coursed through your system as tiny thoughts of doubt twirled around your brain. Were you ready for this?

Absentmindedly tapping your fingers against the music stand at the podium, your eyes swept across the room. A quick glance at the schedule confirmed that no one from the orchestra would be here until later in the evening, so you’d have the place entirely to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you unpacked your violin and began to tune, taking note of how the sound bounced all around the walls, and gradually felt yourself relax. It was funny, you mused as you lowered your violin, how easy it was for you to discredit how much you had accomplished over the past few years. You weren’t just some conductor’s assistant anymore, you were a professional violinist, and a good one at that. It was unclear if your hesitation to accept your success came from the fear of being considered overly cocky, or if it derived from years of low self esteem and an inferiority complex.

Taking another long, calming breath, you swept those thoughts aside. Raising your violin, you rolled your shoulders back, turning so you were facing the front of the hall. It would be foolish to play the entire piece hours before rehearsal, as you would be wasting energy that you would desperately need. Performing was a lot like running a marathon, you couldn’t blow through everything you had in the first few miles and be left with nothing for the end. No, you needed to be intentional with every movement of your bow and shift of your fingers up and down the fingerboard.

The Lark Ascending was a majestic sixteen minute piece that was filled with swooping melodies as the violin sang higher and higher with every measure. Vaughan Williams was a composer during the late Romantic Era, crossing over into the Contemporary, and he had been inspired by a poem of the same name written by English author George Meredith. Vaughan Williams was able to create such stirring imagery with the notes on the page, that it was easy to get lost as you were playing and get transported to this dreamy, astral realm. Filled with a gorgeous blend of vivid colors and clouds, you felt like the lark Vaughan Williams was depicting, soaring through the clear skies.

The piece was filled with vulnerable cadences where you played without the orchestra’s accompaniment acting as a safety net in case you fell. You had to be completely sure of yourself, a hint of hesitation of your fingers or incomplete bow changes would ruin this picturesque painting. Rolling your bow to the frog, you internalized what you wanted your first note to sound like, settling on working on your opening phrase. Placing your fingers on the string, you closed your eyes and began. Your introduction was a stunning cadenza, with the tempo gradually increasing as you began your opening runs, your fingers gliding across the strings.

There was freedom with the tempo, allowing you to take your time and savor each note, your vibrato ringing through the hall. As you climbed higher and higher into the stratosphere it almost felt like you were the lark, ascending into the open air. Performing like this had unlocked a new sense of freedom you always yearned for; the countless hours of practicing turned into an almost effortless sight to any audience. It was as natural as breathing, and each exhale you took matched the strokes of your bow. Nearing the end of the phrase, you tried a new stylistic technique as you shifted your fingers gradually down the fingerboard, making note to try it again later at rehearsal.

As your bow stopped moving you made a few other mental notes of where you could add more vibrato, or improve your dynamics, when all of the lights in the hall turned on, snapping you out of your inner thoughts. The abrupt sound of loud clapping is what startled you the most, as you thought no one else would be using the stage until tonight. You turned around to find the stage door was still ajar, just as you left it, but you noticed a figure lingering in the shadows, and you nearly jumped at the sight. The building was secure enough that you weren’t going to be murdered, right?

“Can I help you?” You asked as politely as possible, setting your violin in its case.

“I have to say, dear, you certainly know how to leave a girl wanting more,” A familiar voice rang out, amusement clear from their tone as they stepped into the light. “You must have had an excellent teacher.”

Agatha Harkness leaned against the door frame, hands folded across her chest. Her dark hair was splayed against her shoulders in their usual messy curls, and you were surprised to find her in more casual attire consisting of a pair of black jeans and a lightweight button-up sheer white shirt. She arched an eyebrow at your shocked expression

You felt your heart stop as you stared into a familiar pair of blue eyes. “Agatha?”

Her lips twisted upwards, smirking, a familiar glint in her eyes. “Surprised to see me?”

Time stood still as you were frozen in place, millions of thoughts dancing around your brain. You were unsure if it had been five seconds or five hours, all you could do was try to remember to breathe. Agatha was here, but how was she here? Were you imagining it? It wouldn’t have been the first time, as you’d lost track of the number of appearances she had made in your dreams over the years. They were all of slightly different variations, but would all end in the same heartbreaking fashion of reconciling with the conductor and feeling a sense of happiness you’d long forgotten…until you inevitably woke up alone.

Blinking, you took a timid step towards her, your hands uncomfortably folding behind your back. “Agatha, what are you doing here?”

Ignoring your question, she walked over to your violin case, and, despite your protests, she picked up your violin, examining it. “I see someone got a new instrument.” Gently turning it, you watched her trace the scroll, her fingers dancing around the pegs. “A shame, really, I was quite fond of your old one. But this is nice too, I suppose. What is it? Italian? German?“

“Swiss, actually,” you lightly corrected her, holding out your hands, signaling for her to hand it over.

As she disregarded your wishes for a second time, you felt a familiar pang of annoyance at how stubborn she could be. Picking up your bow, she raised your violin, setting the bow on the string, before releasing and producing a G-major chord. As the chord echoed throughout the hall you relished in the sound. Agatha had rarely used your violin before. She had always insisted that her talents remained with conducting and the piano, but you recalled a few memories of convincing her to play a scale or two on your violin.

You were normally extremely protective over your instrument, often refusing to allow anyone else to even hold her. However, you recollected, it had never been like that with Agatha. There had been some deep, unspoken level of trust that you had never felt with anyone else.

“Impressive,” Agatha remarked, appearing to admire the sound quality, before finally handing it back to you. Her hands briefly brushed against yours as you wrapped your hands around the neck of your violin, and it was as if you had been zapped by lightning.

But as quickly as the sensation overcame you, it was gone. Agatha retracted her hands, deep blue eyes boring into yours with the same intensity she always seemed to carry.

Clearing your throat, you broke eye contact, feeling the weight of her gaze still on you. “You never answered my question. What are you doing here?”

The conductor released a thoughtful hum, as you watched her move towards the edge of the stage. “Now is that any way to greet the Los Angeles Symphony’s guest conductor, dear?”

Guest conductor? Your face scrunched up, surprise coloring your features. None of your recent internet searches of the conductor revealed she would be in Los Angeles for any upcoming performances. Now, you weren’t exactly stalking Agatha, that would be creepy. You just liked to occasionally see what she was up to. That was normal, right?

“Tony never mentioned a guest conductor when I spoke with him earlier,” you pointed out, leaving out your internal ramblings as you were sure Agatha would get far too much pleasure from hearing you had looked her up.

“Well, it appears that Stephen contracted a rather nasty stomach bug, and I just happened to be in the area.” Agatha explained, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Now, you weren’t claiming to be an expert geographer, but something in your gut told you that she was lying. “So you just happened to be in California when you live on the East Coast?”

“Something like that,” Agatha tossed out, teasing you ever so slightly, and you scoffed.

She had always been elusive; that had been part of her charm. You never entirely knew what to expect when you were dealing with Agatha Harkness, and that used to excite you. She often reminded you of a raging hurricane, with her occasional fits of anger and passion all mingling together like the waves crashing against the shore. There had been a gentler side to her, of course, located in the eye of the storm. That had been the Agatha you were most familiar with, underneath all of the sarcastic quips and horrible temper was the woman you had once fallen in love with.

Nothing about her had ever been direct, which nearly drove you mad. But the subtlety of how she offered her affection more than made up for it. Nearly every night she insisted on driving you home, and you had quickly learned she detested the subway. She had been horrified when you had revealed you almost never cooked, so she made a point to teach you her favorite recipes (while only gently mocking your lack of skill in the kitchen in the process). It was clear she hadn’t been used to expressing her emotions, but then again you had never been an expert in that field either. Still, she loved you in her own way, and deep down a small part of you knew she loved you enough to let you go all those years ago.

But standing here now, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was really doing here. Did she know you were set to premiere with the orchestra? There was a fleeting thought where you dared to wonder if she came here for you, but you knew that was too foolish to even imagine. It had been so long without any word from her, why would she come to you now? You had performed with a few other orchestras in the States over the past year, and there had been a few brief moments where you hoped she would show, but she never did.

She was looking pleased, far too pleased for your liking. A rather dark thought crossed your mind, and you shot her an incredulous look. “Oh my god, did you do something to Stephen?”

Agatha let out a loud cackle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m a conductor, dear, not a homicidal witch. What exactly do you think I could have done, beat him up with my baton?”

That painted a rather interesting image in your head, but you frowned at her, unamused. “You’re not going to tell me what you’re doing here, are you?”

“You always were a fast learner, darling,” Agatha quietly remarked as she took a step towards you, the once familiar pet name sounding foreign on her tongue. “I must say, I was surprised to learn you had selected Vaughan Williams.”

“Why?” You questioned, noting how she slowly inched her way closer to you.

“I suppose I assumed you’d pick something with more flare. Tchaikovsky perhaps, or Sibelius.”

Shrugging, you vaguely called to mind one of the first things Agatha had ever said to you. “I don’t know, I guess I always preferred something more subdued, you know?”

You watched her eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint, and it was clear she knew what you were doing. “Something more subdued, hm? Not a fan of the dramatics?”

“I think that’s much more your genre of choice than mine,” You retorted, feeling the air in the room begin to thin as she circled you like a shark.

Agatha stepped in even closer, and her fingers reached up, playing with the loose strands of hair that fell around your shoulders. You felt your body react to her touch, a sensation you’d long forgotten. “You cut your hair,” she murmured, so low you could barely hear her.

“You haven’t seen me in over five years,” you pointed out, feeling a wave of nerves hit you over having her so close. “I’m sure my hair’s changed a lot since then.”

“It looked longer in Chicago,” she mused, still twirling the strands around, and you were stunned. Chicago? Your most recent performance was with the Chicago Philharmonic last month, and that would mean that…was she there?

“How would you know that?” You pressed, and her fingers ceased their movements, as you searched her eyes for a glimpse into what she was implying.

You could feel millions of unanswered questions dancing between the two of you, the tension thick in the air. Agatha’s hands abruptly dropped your hair as if she had been burned, and you briefly yearned for her touch again.

“My assistant showed me a recording of the performance on their phone,” Agatha explained, folding her hands against her chest. “Your stage presence certainly has improved, but you were late coming out of your cadenza.”

Ignoring the slight dig, your brain honed in on what she said prior to that. Her assistant. You couldn’t help but ask yourself if she had kept the same assistant since you left. A brief, but intrusive, thought made you wonder if the dynamic between Agatha and this new assistant was similar to the one you once shared. Did she call them the same terms of endearments she had bestowed upon you? Did she introduce them to her favorite old movies that you used to beg her to turn on? Did she go out of her way to fluster them, as she once took pleasure in doing to you?

You weren’t sure why it bothered you so much. It wasn’t as if you were together anymore, Agatha was free to do what she liked and to see who she pleased. You had a few short-lived, meaningless flings while living abroad, so it would be hypocritical to judge her. But, there was a voice screaming deep inside you, questioning how special your time together truly was if she could have replaced you so easily?

“Right, your assistant.” You tried your best to keep the bitterness from seeping through, but could practically taste the venom in your mouth.

Agatha raised her eyebrows, but refrained from commenting on your change in tone. Instead, she turned to walk down the stairs of the stage, leading to the aisle. “I only heard the last few bars of your cadenza, and it isn’t terrible, but it could certainly be better. Now, I don’t have my score on me, but it sounds like you’re losing too much momentum as you come down the fingerboard.” She sat a few rows back from the stage, crossing her legs together. “Could you take it again from your last run, and try to make your decrescendo last longer? We want to elongate these phrases to draw the audience in.”

There had been a time when you would have done anything Agatha had asked of you without question. Your daily practice sessions with the conductor had been grueling at times, as she was incredibly nitpicky, and had an impeccably well-trained ear. Any missed entrance or a note that was even just a hair flat she would pick up on. You had worked with a lot of gifted musicians in the past, but none of them could dream of coming close to Agatha Harkness. She wasn’t just a conductor, she possessed the rare ability to take the notes off the page and transform them into these brilliant, colorful works of art.

You used to live for her praise, and would often go out of your way to receive it. It had been your worst fear to disappoint her somehow, even if it meant sacrificing your own dreams to please her. But things were different now, you weren’t her assistant anymore. The burning desire to gain her approval still lingered somewhere within you, but it wasn’t as strong anymore. You knew that you would be okay without it, as you had to learn to live without her.

Giving her a pointed look, you decided to test the waters. “You do realize you’re not my boss anymore, right? I don’t have to just do whatever you say.”

Agatha looked momentarily stunned, and you could practically watch the gears turning in her head. “If I recall correctly, you used to enjoy having me tell you what to do.”

Looking down, you forced yourself to not remember just how much you used to enjoy that. Clearing your throat, you thought of something to fire back with. “Well, they do say memory is the first thing to go.”

“Funny, dear.” Agatha deadpanned, but as you lifted your head you were able to see the corners of her lips were turned upwards. “But I’m not paying you to just stand there and look pretty.”

“You’re actually not paying me at all, the orchestra is.”

“Technicalities,” Agatha said dismissively, waving her hand to signal you to hurry up. “And as you just so kindly pointed out, I’m not getting any younger. Any day now.”

It was clear Agatha wasn’t going to let up, and you weren’t in the mood to keep arguing with her. Grabbing your violin, you gently rested it under your arm. “Should I start at my last entrance?”

Agatha had a thoughtful expression on her face, and you couldn’t help but focus on her fingers tapping out indecipherable rhythms on the top of the seats in front of her. “Hmmm, let’s take it from the top. Do you need your sheet music?”

Shaking your head, you raised your violin. Placing your bow on the string, you tried to rid yourself of the nerves you could feel start to overtake you. Your first few notes rang through the hall as you tried to perfectly time each shift of your fingers and vibrato. Everything had to be fluid; any jerky bow changes or careless finger placements would risk destroying the exquisite illusion you were painting. Some violinists would claim the most challenging pieces to perform were the ones with incredibly fast passages that were often impossible to master. Your brain had to be a few steps ahead of your nimble fingers so you could anticipate what the next notes would be, and one small slip up would send you tumbling down.

While you agreed that exuberant pieces were extremely difficult, you would argue that the hardest pieces to perform as a soloist were the more melodic ones. The pieces filled with stunning melodies, warmed up by gorgeous vibrato. They weren’t packed with thrilling runs up and down the fingerboard, instead they were notated with sweet, heartbreakingly beautiful lines that required you to pour your heart out. Yes, it was scary to have to nail a few hundred notes coming out one after another, but the hardest feat to master on the violin was the ability to play achingly slow, glorious passages. It was to fully captivate an audience with every elegant swish of your bow and dance of your fingers on the strings.

You were so swept up in the notes you had memorized in your brain, you barely heard the soft creaking of the stairs leading up to the stage. There was a particularly bare section halfway through your cadenza, where you were so high up the fingerboard that you needed to extend your elbow to allow your fingers to reach. It wasn’t good enough to merely play the right notes; you had to be confident your left hand was pressing down on the correct spot on the string, while your right hand held the bow but didn’t press too hard down. If you applied too much pressure when you released the bow, it would produce a screeching noise on the string.

Continuing on, you kept your fingers on your bow relaxed, but you could gradually feel your shoulders begin to tighten. This happened on occasions when you were feeling particularly nervous or antsy, and it was usually difficult for you to relax them. As you tried to refocus your breathing and attempt to get your body to calm down, you could feel a familiar presence lurking in the background. Even though you could not see her, you knew she was right behind you. You had found yourself in this exact scenario with the conductor too many times to count. She would always promise to stay in her seat while you were playing for her, but would almost always end up on the stage within mere moments.

As if she could sense you about to stop playing, you heard her voice ring out. “Don’t stop now, dear. I’m just observing something.”

You wanted to turn around and ask if she was observing your ass, but you knew she would merely retort with something to make you blush furiously in response. So you kept going, trying not to picture what she was doing.

As the line slowly started to take you down the fingerboard with every new phrase, you put all of your attention into your intonation. You could hear her take yet another small step towards you, to the point where she was nearly pressed up against you.

“You need to relax.” Agatha uttered, so close to whispering in your ear that you reflexively shivered. She put one hand on your shoulder, rubbing gentle circles. “Your posture is giving me horrible flashbacks.”

It was becoming increasingly difficult for you to remember the correct notes when she was closer to you than she had been in so long. Her other hand rested on your hip, the sensation almost causing you to drop your violin. It had been so long since you last felt her touch, and you could just barely hold onto the melody in your memory. A small voice in the back of your brain begged for more, but you ignored it.

“Relax.” Agatha repeated, her voice firmer this time, and you felt your body obey her command. Your shoulders finally went down to their correct position, but her hands stayed on you. “There we go, good girl.”

Your brain buzzed at her words, feeling your cheeks burn and you were thankful she couldn’t see the effect she still had on you. As you reached the end of the cadenza, you slowly lowered your instrument, trying your best not to fall over from the overwhelming feeling surrounding you. “So, what did you think?”

Using the hand situated on your hip, Agatha swiftly twisted you around to face her, moving the hand she had on your shoulder down to help secure your violin. You stumbled just ever so slightly, but she steadied you, her grip tightening on your waist.

“Easy there,” Agatha lightly teased, and you thought you saw her eyes hungrily rake up and down your body. “Have you always been this jumpy, or are you just excited to see me?”

There was so much you wanted to say, but there was a lump in your throat that grew bigger with every tug on your waist, drawing you impossibly closer to the woman your brain refused to let go of. She was infuriatingly high-handed, extremely egotistical, and was single-handedly the most stubborn individual you had ever encountered. She was obsessive, and aggressive, and had her eyes always been so blue?

“Agatha…” you managed to breathe out, desperately trying to clear your head and regain some sense of self control, but your brain felt slippery.

The combination of the heat from the bright stage lights and the intensely burning gaze from the conductor had you feeling more unsteady on your feet as the seconds slowly ticked by. You’d spent the past year performing in sold out concert halls, yet you were never more nervous than you currently felt being face to face with Agatha Harkness.

It was unclear how long you stood there, staring at each other. You knew Agatha well enough to know she had something to say, it was written all over her face. But she remained silent, one hand situated on your waist and the other gently holding your violin in place. There was something about the way she was looking at you, as if she thought she’d never see you again.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something, a loud buzzing noise began to ring through the hall. The moment was broken as she released you, sighing as she reached to her back pocket, revealing her cell phone.

Squinting at the screen, and you suddenly remembered the difficulty she had of reading off her phone without her glasses, she frowned. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s my assistant.”

You took a step backwards, feeling burned. “Right. Your assistant. Best not keep them waiting.”

Agatha gave you a brief, perplexed glance before answering her phone. “What do you want now?” Loudly sighing, you watched as she closed her eyes, clearly vexed. “I already told you, for the millionth time, it’s the box in my study.” Pausing, as she listened to her assistant reply, she held up a finger to you, signaling for you to wait for her. “For the last time, no, nothing else. Just the box in my study, the singular box. Make sure Scratchy is ready to go as well.”

It appeared the assistant had more questions, as you watched Agatha pinch the bridge of her nose in agitation. “No, no, no, stop,” she then paused, and looked at you again. “I have to deal with this, I’ll see you at rehearsal.”

She stormed away without another word, squawking orders over the phone, and you were left in the aftershock of the earthquake that was Agatha Harkness.

Next Chapter

[myosotisa]

Try Again - s.h.

Chapter 1 ǁ King of Hearts

ǁ  summary: Steve finally scrapes together enough funds and the courage to leave Hawkins behind so he can join Robin in Chicago. One of the first people she introduces him to is you and the aftermath includes a warning that he has heard before (and won't listen to. Again).

ǁ tags: hurt/comfort, angst (with a happy ending not in this chapter). strangers to friends to lovers. set in 1990 Chicago. hurt and slowly healing!Reader and hopeless romantic!Steve. afab!reader, she/her pronouns used, no y/n. this is the only part in the series from Steve's POV.

‖  word count: 2.5k

ǁ series masterlist ǁ next part (coming soon) ǁ

“Have I mentioned lately that you’re hopeless?”

Steve flopped back onto Robin’s couch with a groan, tossing his forearm over his eyes to hide his embarrassment. “If by lately you mean an hour ago, then yeah.”

From her arm chair beside the couch, a bag of popcorn steadily being shoved into her mouth as she watched on amused, she continued, “Then allow me to once again remind you that you are completely hopeless. And this is not the girl you wanna get your heart broken over next.”

Robin had introduced the two of you for the first time tonight – you being her classmate at community college for the last 2 years and him being the best friend who had finally saved up enough to leave Hawkins and be her roommate. She’d anticipated this happening, because you were cute and he was Steve, but she hadn’t quite expected the severity of his sudden heart eyes and awkward complimenting toward you after just a few short hours.

He lowered his arm so he could prop himself up on his elbows to look her in the eye. “She’s already in a relationship, isn’t she?”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ for effect, another handful of popcorn prepared. “The exact opposite actually.”

The skin between his brows folded over itself as he tilted his head, confused. “What? What does that mean?”

She held up a finger for him to wait, finishing her absurdly large mouthful before swallowing to answer. “I mean that in the entire time I’ve known her, she has never mentioned dating or being in a relationship or talking to anyone, guy or girl. And she might just be private or something but she also fucking hates rom coms and rolls her eyes at couples on campus, so I don’t think it’s just being shy.”

Flopping back down with a groan, he threw his arms out wide and almost knocked his glass off the coffee table. “Who hates rom coms?” He asked, like the idea in and of itself was absurd.

She shrugged, reaching for her drink on the coffee table as a few kernels fell off her lap and onto the ground. “Maybe she’s a nun or something, I don’t know. Just… Don’t even think about it, okay? It’s not gonna happen.”

If only it was that easy.

Having missed his best friend and also being new to town, Steve was then involved in almost every plan Robin made, which more often than not also included you. The two of you had become easy friends – not close by any means but fully capable of joking around and talking whenever Robin was late or off somewhere else.

And while he had tried to take Robin’s advice and not let his budding crush bloom, he still found himself more attracted to you by the day. You were smart and witty with a sharp mouth that sometimes spoke before your brain caught up and left you embarrassed and scrambling to recover. Not to mention cute and kind, with a bright smile and a loud laugh that made his heart thump painfully in his chest.

Also so, so funny – he swore it was easier for you to make him laugh than anyone he had ever known (besides Robin), even when he was in the worst of moods. It was clear as day that humor was the primary aspect of your relationship with his best friend. The two of you ended up sending yourselves into hysterics on a daily basis; digging into jokes and ripping back and forth until you were both rolling around in tears.

But there were definitely things that he noticed that made Robin’s theory seem plausible. How you groaned and complained whenever anyone wanted to watch a romance movie, sometimes even got up and left the room when an action movie had a big couple kissing moment. You never talked about anything related to dating or sex but would listen politely and attentively when someone else brought it up. Whenever one of your mutual friends asked for dating advice from the group, yours was always thoughtful and realistic – sometimes to the point of pessimism.

He couldn’t help but be curious – not even specifically because of his own hidden feelings toward you, but just generally to learn more about you. He’d heard before about people who just had no interest at all in romance or sex, and maybe you were one of those people. Or maybe you just wanted to focus on school or something like that. He didn’t want to judge. He just wanted to know.

His first opportunity to ask came a few weeks later. You, him, and Robin were in a booth at your favored late night diner. Robin had called an Emergency French Fry meeting – so the three of you ordered a variety of fried foods to share across the table and some milkshakes as you both listened to Robin recounting her date.

She was still quite new to the act – having gained enough confidence in this new place to try to ask girls out when she felt safe to – but it still didn’t happen super often. And tonight’s date had gone really, really well for her. Rose was a bit more brave now that she knew Robin also liked girls and had pulled out all the stops; holding her hand as they walked down the boardwalk and putting an arm around her on the Ferris Wheel. Stuff Robin still struggled with the confidence to do and was fucking ecstatic that it was finally happening to her.

You showed nothing but excitement for Robin, listening to her go over the evening in detail and asking thoughtful questions, offering insight when Robin asked for it. Steve mostly listened, only adding comments whenever Robin looked at him for input, spending his time watching and trying to keep up. It had become one of his favorite pastimes – especially when the two of you started to talk so fast and so animated that he could barely make heads or tails of any of it.

It was cute. How you both could talk at the speed of sound and skip over half your sentences and still completely understand what the other was saying. It made him so happy for Robin to have a friend like you, which also made you that much more endearing to him.

He only noticed a slight difference in your demeanor when Robin borderline squealed over the fact that Rose had kissed her at the end of the night with a little bit too much detail. You smiled and nodded and explained again how happy you were for her – but your eyes looked sad. Your smile didn't quite reach them.

When Robin complained about needing to go to the bathroom and departed in a whirlwind, silence fell. Your hands were clasped around the base of your milkshake glass, skin brushing the heavy condensation that had collected on the table as you stared at the melting dessert. There was still that same look in your eye as you appeared to be lost in thought. If he didn’t know any better, it almost looked like you wanted to cry but wouldn’t allow yourself to.

Clearing his throat a bit awkwardly, your eyes blinked back into focus and flicked up to meet his. Took a moment to grit his teeth as he considered if he was really about to stick his foot in his mouth and ask this. Decided to do it anyway. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off but… Do you have a crush on Robin or something?”

You sat straight up in near alarm, eyes widening at him. “No! No, I’m not–” You adjusted nervously in your seat, fingers tightening around your glass for a moment. “No, I don’t.”

Not sure how to take your vehement denial, he added on, “It’s okay if you do, I don’t judge,” you looked about ready to inject again but he kept going. “You just looked kind of sad when she was talking about the end of her date so…”

Your expression fell, eyes closing as you forced a deep breath. “It’s nothing like that, I swear. It’s just…”

And he thought you actually were about to tell him something, anything about the whole thing. Finally shed some light to (hopefully) end his weird preoccupation with the idea. But before you could open your mouth again, Robin was falling back into the booth beside him with a happy sigh and more thoughts on the date she had come up with while in the bathroom. You attempted to give her your full attention again, only every once in a while glancing back over at Steve nervously before flicking back.

You were quick to make your escape that night after Robin declared your meeting adjourned – not giving him a single second to potentially bring the topic up again, to his disappointment. Robin gave him a pointed look as you hurried off that asked ‘what did you do?’ to which he just shrugged and directed her back toward his car to go home.

There were a few other things over the next few weeks that just made him more confused. There were sometimes he could swear you were flirting with him, more than you flirted with your average friend. Ending up in his personal space in a crowd, walking beside him on the sidewalk, turning everything you possibly could into a competition between the two of you, laughing louder at his jokes than was probably warranted. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.

One time he’d been invited over to your apartment (with Robin), taking in everything he could to try to learn more about you. He’d made a teasing comment of, “For someone who doesn’t like romance movies, you sure do have a lot of romance books.” You’d spent the next hour wildly alternating between annoyed, embarrassed, and something that looked like fear.

While teasing was about 75% of your interactions together, he’d learned that teasing about that specific topic wasn’t something that went well with you.

Overall, he learned a lot about you. Not just your strange behavior when it came to the topics of romance, but the little things. Like your usual order at the diner and your favorite drinks. The arcade machine you spent the most time at and your most repeated mixtape from your car, plus your favorite song on it. How your eyes lit up when you saw a dog being walked or a cat lounging in a window. That your closet was mostly monotone and heavy on black, and seeing you wearing a color was a rare day. That you went to school at the community college full time while also working full time but somehow always still had plenty of time to be with your friends or help someone out.

He was surprised to find you noticed things about him too – ordering him a drink to be ready when he showed up after you, asking how something had gone at his new job. Things that people normally wouldn’t have remembered, much less cared about. And you weren’t just asking to be nice. You actually, really wanted to know about his normal day to day.

It really didn’t make it easy for him to pretend he wasn’t in way too deep on his feelings for you.

On a cold August night, after a group of you had spent the night in a pinball competition that the two of you got absurdly competitive about (despite both being painfully average at pinball), he offered to walk you home. He’d driven to the bar-cade with Robin but she was still cheering on her now-girlfriend Rose when you explained you were planning to leave for the night, so he had time to walk you home and be back in time to drive her. Fully having expected you to say no, to brush off that it wasn’t that far and you didn’t want him to have to walk back, he was delightfully surprised when you agreed.

The two of you had started out side by side, your arms wrapped tight to keep in the warmth of your light jacket and his hands tucked into his pockets. Without warning, he said, “Hold on, switch with me,” with a light hand on your shoulder. Noticed how you instinctively stiffened at the small moment of contact, not moving as he pulled away his hand and walked around to be in between you and the street.

“Oh,” was your soft reply, realizing that was why he wanted to switch, why he had touched you. You got moving again, unconsciously inching close enough for your shoulders to brush as your walk continued. It took another minute or two to shake off the unexpected interaction, but then the two of you settled into another easy conversation that led you all the way to your apartment.

Unlocking the door and propping it open, you surprised him by turning and leaning back against the door frame. “Thank you, Steve. For walking me home.”

His smile was easy, a bit crooked as he waved off your thanks. “It’s no problem. Anytime, you know that.”

“Yeah,” you offered softly, almost in a sigh. “Yeah, I do.”

And really, he couldn’t help himself. Here you were, leaning back against your door frame right in front of him, just the two of you, after a really fun night. The warm overhead light of the hallway made it look like you were almost glowing as you smiled at him in a way that gave him butterflies. He glanced down at your lips, struck with how much he wished he could kiss you, before he even realized what he was doing.

Your expression turned pained, almost to the point of a wince as you averted eye contact. Softly, almost a whisper, you begged him, “Please don’t look at me like that.”

Caught red handed, flushing all the way up to his ears, he faked ignorance by asking, “Like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me.”

When your eyes met his, they were sad again. Like you wanted to cry but you wouldn’t allow yourself to. And maybe he was a little bit of a lovesick fool when he whispered, “Would that really be such a bad thing?”

You huffed a humorless laugh, eyes closing as you took another deep breath like you needed to center yourself. When you looked up at him again, it was with a certain self-deprecating humor that you told him, “You, Steve Harrington, are Prince Charming. And I… I would never be your fairytale ending.”

He didn’t even have time to process what you might have meant before you murmured goodnight and shut the door in his face.

-

-

-

-

thanks for reading!! please reblog and leave a reaction if you liked it, they make my day <3

[muffinsin]

Angst idea

can you do where the sisters get severely injured, (not sure how) like they can die if not healed. Their family tries to give them blood but they keep rejecting every blood they are offered. Their female s/o is desperate and crying and begging for them to drink the blood but they just won’t, so she gets an idea and talks about it with the family; she wants to offer her blood, the family are hesitated because they know how much the sisters love her, but they didn’t calculate how much blood was needed until they started draining the blood from their lover until her heart stops beating, the lover doesn’t pull away and doesn’t allow a anyone to pull away because she would sacrifice her life for the sisters. Or another possible thing would be that the sisters are in a coma and the lover asks Miranda to save them but in order to do that, Miranda needs the lovers life and she agrees without hesitation, the family knows of this arrangement and cannot stop it as the lover is stubborn and will not let anyone stop her. So the main request, if you can or want, how would the sisters react to finding out their lover sacrificed her life for them and their family didn’t (couldn’t) stop her from doing that, oh if you like to add the sisters had a fight with their lover before the incident, something about them thinking their lover doesn’t love them or something so now they feel guilty because their lovers’s love for them runs deep.

thanks

-rambunctious anon

Oooooh some angst again!👀 and omg this got SO long XD

Let’s go! :)

Masterlists

Bela

You know, immediately, something is wrong when you hear Bela’s scream

Not an annoyed, or an enraged one

No, it’s a loud, and desperate scream

A scream that reveals the pain she is in. A scream for help. A scream of agony

You don’t care about the two of you being at odds

That she’s asked you for space

She needs you. She’s in pain!

You run, faster than you thought you could, you blood pumping and heart beating fast

You try to find her, try to find where the screams are coming from

Not the main hall, not her room, not the gardens

The kitchens?

You’re so close

You run past the broken windows, your eyes widening at her state

Bela is badly hurt and must have fallen to the floor

Her hair is a mess from the physical fight she’s in, blood runs from multiple spots on her body

She’s screaming as her own sickle is brought down on her and the wind from the outside hits her harshly

There is a man kneeling above her. She seems unusually small and helpless, crying and screaming in pain, desperately trying to shield her face with her crystallising hands and arms

You don’t hesitate when you see the gun left on the ground, and fire prompt into his back, through his heart

Yet, it seems bela is also affected by this, being this close to the man. You didn’t think the bullet would go right through

She screams in pain, this time caused by you, as the man drops limply on her bruised, cut and shot body

She’s quite literally falling apart from the cold, even when you quickly close the window

You kneel fast and push the man away, instead hover over her yourself. She cries her leg breaks off, the flies unable to stay together any longer

She doesn’t dare meet your eyes, and you can’t help but remember what happened mere hours ago

How broken she sounded, stating you wouldn’t love her because you forgot about a date she had been looking forward to

Your heart aches at the mere memory. You know, Bela doesn’t get to have dates often

You know, she’s vulnerable as it comes to love and romance

And you how how bad you hurt her when she claimed you didn’t love her and demanded time and space for herself

Now, it’s nearly unbearable to see the woman you do love lie on the floor, a broken body and tears streaming down her cheeks as she screams in pain whenever another body part of hers falls

You don’t understand- why isn’t she healing?!

You closed the window!

No more injuries come to her!

Why won’t she recover?!

She’s coughing up blood, and you gasp in shock when her throat and face begins crystallising slowly

“Bela!”

She doesn’t quite seem to hear. She’s feeling hazy, and not quite there

You jump at the hand on your shoulder- Cassandra- tugging you away

“Bela! Bela!”, she too yells. You flinch when she attempts to grab her sister’s hand and it breaks off with a loud scream from the blonde

Immediately she pulls her hand back, shocked

Tears run down your face, and you feel your heart ache at your precious lover’s state

It’s not voiced, but you know, you’re not the only one worrying Bela isn’t going to make this

You watch as Cassandra, by far gentler this time and more careful than you have ever seen her move, slowly brings Bela’s body close to her own

You feel so utterly helpless as you watch her

Is there nothing you can do but watch her die right before your eyes?!

Then, it comes to you when Cassandra unclasps the necklace hugging her throat

Blood, of course!

She gently pulls her sister to her neck, and you wince as you see sharp teeth dig into Cassandra’s skin

The woman groans in pain, but doesn’t move away

For a moment, Bela seems to drink, albeit weakly

Your eyes widen when, only a few seconds after, the blonde jerks away, blood coughed up and spit out, body jerking

You watch the dark, inhuman blood run down Cassandra’s bare neck

Of course, cadou-infected blood, practically rotten blood, can’t be all that good…

Yours, on the other hand…

You love Bela. You want her to know this

You cup her face gently, more tears running down your cheeks at how fragile she feels

Like old porcelain that might break any second

Her eyes can’t find yours, she’s completely hazed and dizzy. Her eyes dart everywhere and dare close

“Bela…”, you whisper. She can’t meet your eyes, her eyes nearly close and her head bobs forwards

You feel sticky, salty tears on your cheeks as you take her from Cassandra and pull her closer

The brunette watches silently as you drag Bela to your neck instead

Immediately, she latches on, and you bite your lip to stifle your cries of pain

It hurts, by far more than normal

Bela has always held back. This time, she doesn’t seem to be able to

She’s crying against your neck, as though somewhat aware of what is happening but unable to stop it

Wet tears hit the top of her head

“Ssssh, it’s okay, Bela”, you whisper, your hand at the back of her head preventing her from pulling away

The more the takes, the stronger she gets

The stronger she gets, the weaker you feel

It’s bittersweet, you think. How your lover will recover, and yet you won’t be around to see it

You know, now it is you who won’t make it, not when she keeps and keeps drinking and only her remaining hand is starting to heal

You know; it’s going to take a lot more blood

You’re starting to feel light headed after a few minutes, and Cassandra at last seems to catch on and deem enough blood drained

“Bela. Bela!”, she calls, her hand grasping Bela’s trembling shoulder

You don’t allow her to pull her sister off, even as your vision is blurry and you feel life slowly slipping from you

Bela is trembling, and crying. Merely her chest and head has still got flies breaking off

“N-No, ke-eep going”, you whisper back

You don’t have the strength to say more

Cassandra’s eyes widen at this

“Are you crazy?! Make her let go!”, she screeches

You notice her attempt to claw at the wound at her neck, eager to feed Bela instead

You know, the blonde’s body will only reject Cassandra’s foul blood. You know, it will only weaken both sisters

With the last bit of strength you have remaining, you pull Bela closer again, and press a small kiss to the crown of her head

“I love you, pretty girl”

Two days after, Bela awakens again

She groans at the pain in her limbs, the dried blood sticking to her mouth

She makes a mental note to clean it off. She knows, you’ll likely only kiss her when she has a clean mouth

Upon lifting her head, she notices it’s tucked against you

She can’t help but smile and cuddle a little closer

She feels so hazy, so weak. Having you with her is beautiful and calming

She wonders- are you still angry at her words?

She knows, she shouldn’t have reacted the way she did

For a moment she frowns. What is she doing in the small storage room? Why are the two of you crouched on the floor?

Why does she feel bullets settled within her? She cringes at the feeling of her healing body pushing them out

A blanket is draped over her

Upon noticing her death grip on you, she lets go and gasps when both of you fall backwards, her on top of your body, her head tucked in your neck

“I’m sorry…for what I’ve said…”

Is this her voice? It sounds so rough, so small. Her throat burns as she talks

Bela winces at your silence

“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have said you don’t love me..”

No answer comes from you

“Are you still angry?”, she asks. She doesn’t dare lift her head from you

Bela’s heart pounds in her ears

No answer comes from you, again. The silence has her on edge

“I’m sorry..”, she cries. “I know you love me”, she adds as tears roll down her cheeks

How can she fix this?

“I didn’t mean to say su….”- Bela’s words die on her tongue as she lifts her head

Golden eyes find your unblinking ones

She stares. It’s as though she’s frozen in time. In this moment

She calls your name, her voice cracking

Now she sees you, she notices the lack of your heartbeat

She shakes as she notices the blood smeared on your throat. The very same that matches the one smeared on her lips

Tears roll down her cheeks as she shakes. No words come from her

“Please wake up”

Upon hearing what happened from Cassandra, Bela turns hostile towards her

She no longer is the loving sister to her

How could she let this happen?!

How could she make Bela do this?!

She’s completely broken, hostile and sad, breaking down all day

Cassandra is advised to stay away. Any contact with her sister at all ends up with sharp nails dug into her skin and ugly words thrown at her

Often, Bela pulls Daniela to her side. She hissed angrily whenever her sister attempts to talk

She’s there to comfort her, to remind Bela there is a reason to keep living

Nothing more

Cassandra

Your eyes widen at the loud, angry scream that fills the hall

You immediately, automatically, tug on the doorknob. Yet, it’s locked tight

Cassandra has made sure you wouldn’t get out the moment an intruder was found in the castle

Another scream. You hear the pain in it. The anger

She’s hurt! You know it! Badly, or else Cassandra wouldn’t scream like this

Laughter, always. Never pained screams

You throw yourself against the door, over and over again

Eventually, it comes lose at last and breaks open

Immediately you make your way to the screams

You run fast, as fast as your legs carry you, down the hall and into the armoury, where you know you will find her

As you pass her room, you gasp upon finding the sickle still dropped on the floor, right where she threw it

“Why must you always be so difficult?! Just be normal for once!”- your own words from before ring in your ears

You remember it, the pained and angry expression in her face

You remember flinching when a tear ran down her cheek

Never have you seen her cry before this

You remember how she grabbed her gloves and put them on to cover the sharp, black painted nails

You remember her throwing her sickle and daggers to the floor. Ridding herself of them

“You want normal? Fine. And what’s left of me now?” She didn’t sound angry as she said it. Just- hurt. Betrayed

You have told her countless times you love how special she is

Just this once, fuelled by your anger after she killed a maid you had a good conversation with, you made the mistake of telling her to be normal

As though you’d want her to be normal

You remember how she angrily wiped the blood from her face…how she pulled the hood up to hide the cadou scar

How frustrated she grew that despite all this, she was not normal, and she couldn’t be

You eye the sickle as you take it from the floor. Another scream makes you flinch again

She isn’t bearing her weapon…

You grab the handle of the weapon tightly as you keep running

When you find her at the armoury, you feel as though frozen

Dressed in a thin, white dress, she’s trying to both- warm up and shield her face

You gasp as her legs break and she falls to the floor. She’s almost completely grey, her skin looking hard

When the intruding man’s blade hits her arm, she screams. It almost falls off, you notice

Quickly, you jump into the room

You aren’t sure how to wield a sickle, really, but shove the sharp end of it into the man’s neck

Immediately, you lay the price for it when you are elbowed in the face

Still, with another hard thrust into the man’s jugular, the falls to the floor

Immediately, you move to Cassandra

Frozen tears stick to her nearly frozen cheeks

You frown at the light dress she wears. It looks far too…normal

And it offers no warmth at all

“C-Cass…!”

She blinks slowly, her head bobbing forwards

You eye the large gap in the wall. There is no shutting out the cold, but you know you can’t move her

“Cassandra!”, you shriek when her arm, at last, breaks off

She doesn’t answer. As she attempts to talk, you notice with wide eyes how a large crack appears on her throat

“No! Nononono!”, you scream, and she winces at the sound of it

You know immediately what she needs. Blood. Blood you know she can’t get from anybody but you right now

Even as you hear her mother approach, you know it’s of no use. You know, their tainted blood will be of no use to her

Cassandra winces and cries as she is brought closer to you

“Le-eave!”, she croaks out

Immediately, your hand covers her throat when the crack raises all the way to her chin

“Don’t talk”, you urge

You feel how fast your heart beats as you raise one of the sharp daggers from the floor

She squirms, her hand weakly raising to stop you

You jump when Alcina enters the armoury, her eyes wide

Just like you, she seems to immediately think of what to do, and raises her own, sharp claw to her wrist

Silent tears stream down your face when she lifts her wrist to Cassandra’s grey face

You know, it’s going to be futile

The fact she wastes time like this angers you

You grab the dagger tightly as you press it against your throat. Your hands shake as you watch Alcina

For a mere moment, Cassandra seems to drink the dark, nearly black blood

You allow yourself to feel hope as you watch with wide, worried eyes and wet cheeks

Then, she spits. You hold her to you as she spits it all out, her weak body shaking and tears streaming down her face

You flinch when you bump against her hand and a large crack appears on it

You know, there is no other option left. In a way, you can’t help but think you’ve caused this

Had you not called her such a thing…maybe with her sickle, she could have prevented the hole in the wall

Maybe her thick dress could serve her better. Now her remaining arm is bare, as are her frozen over legs and thighs

You cry out loudly when the dagger cuts across your throat

When you bring Cassandra’s head to your neck, she struggles as much as her weak body allows it

You realise with a sting in your chest- she doesn’t want to drink your blood. She wants to be normal

“Please, you need to….”, you beg

Cassandra cries out brokenly when you smudge her face against your throat

Golden eyes dart to Alcina’s

“Mo-other, ma-ke them stop!”

You hold her throat a little tighter to prevent it from cracking and breaking in half

Alcina doesn’t budge

She too knows it’s the only way

“Drink”, you urge. No, force

Cassandra cries as her face is smudged against you, hard, and your blood runs in her mouth

Her remaining hand reaches up

You cry harder when her fingers break off and she whimpers the second they come in contact with you

You hold her tight against you for a few minutes, the woman helpless with no limbs remaining

You know, with your blood the flies will return and she will regain the lost limbs in time

You realise too, you won’t be there to see it

After a little while, she begins to drink on her own. More and more

Hard, painfully so

Your vision blurs soon enough. You can’t make out Alcina’s features anymore

You can’t even feel Cassandra against you anymore, nor the pain

Everything feels- numb

You feel life slipping from her as it is given to her

As tears run from your cheeks, you weakly grab a torn piece from her white dress

Your fingers dripping with blood, you drag them across the fabric

“You’re perfec”, is all you manage before your limbs are too heavy and your eyes slip shut

Cassandra’s eyes open with a start

Her vision is blurry. She notices, she is no longer in the armoury

She’s in her bed now, a thick blanket over her

Her left leg is already reattached to her. Her entire body throbs as she heals

Cassandra lifts her right hand cautiously, tears of pain streaming down her face as she inspects it

She screams your name, but no reply comes

Next to her are a pile of dead maidens, and a glass filled with blood

She shivers. Your scent is all around her. Yet- you are not

With fury in her eyes, she remembers what you did

Where are you? Why aren’t you here?!

She screams again. Why won’t you come to her?

Upon hearing her screams, she is swarmed with her two sisters

She snarls at them, demanding to know about you. She only receives sad, sorrowful glances in return

“Where?”, she croaks out

No answer comes to her. She cries, her head smudged against her older sister’s neck

Cassandra begs to see you, even as she can’t move

In return, she only receives a single piece of white, torn fabric. It reeks of you. She loves it

Cassandra cries as she holds it close to her each night until she can recover enough to seek out your grave

“I’m sorry”, she cries out, her nose buried in the fabric with the dried blood in it

Cassandra refuses to see her mother during the entirety of her recovery

The mother of three only knows of her daughter’s condition from her other daughters

She is not granted a single moment with her middle child, lest she is screamed at and demanded to leave

Lest she wants Cassandra to injure herself further by screaming and attempting to throw all within her reach

The moment she approaches her after her recovery, Cassandra swarms away

She refuses to see the woman for weeks

Cassandra screams in agony when Alcina corners her in the armoury one day

It no longer smells of your blood, yet it’s all that is on Cassandra’s mind

“It’s all your fault!”, she screams

She accuses, and her mother stays quiet. She knows, Cassandra needs someone else to blame

And she will take that role

“I hate you!”, she sneers at her mother, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutches the torn fabric of the white dress against her chest

Perhaps, in time, she will heal. Perhaps not

Daniela

She’s fast to fall in love, this much is known

And it’s even easier for her to believe someone is in love with her

Quite often she is sure, one is in love with her within seconds of being in her presence

However, something less known: Daniela is very fast to believe she is no longer loved, too

All it takes is a small argument for her to believe she is no longer loved and treasured, but despised and feared

With you, it’s no different

You’re sitting on the bed, just where she left you

Your chest aches at the thought of the small argument stirred between the two of you

Really, it was nothing major. You’ve had a long day, and Daniela was being her usual, hyper and energetic self while you felt drained and tired

And while it normally excites you, it seems to have just angered you today. Riled you up

So when she came to you to cuddle, you denied her requests. Upon seeing puppy eyes and crocodile tears on her cheeks, you only grew angrier

You know now, you shouldn’t have let your anger out on your sensitive girlfriend

Daniela is so…naive

She hasn’t got the thick skin her sisters have, nor the maturity to understand certain emotions, having been shielded nearly all her life by her family

When you snapped at her and told her not to annoy you today, crocodile tears were replaced with real ones

You didn’t mean to use the word “annoy”. Daniela never really annoyed you like that. Not truly

She never meant to either, even when she acted spoiled and entitled, bratty or teasing

You were left on the bed when she immediately swarmed off

For a long time, hours, you’re in your own little world

That is, until Bela bursts into the room, attempting to find her younger sister. Instead, golden eyes land on you

Immediately you notice her state; the blood on her chest and the deep cut on her forehead, the light bruises on her body where you know, the cold must have hit her

“Where’s Daniela?!”, you demand to know. She has no answer for you

You debated before whether you should give Daniela space. This question is now overdue

You will not sit idle by while your lover might be in danger

You follow Bela on slightly shaky legs. You hear nothing, but run faster when she seems to have caught onto something

As you cross the courtyard- even Bela- you begin to hear it

The screams

Screams of pain

Screams for help

Screams for mercy

Bela is fast to rush through the door, and you follow suit

Your hands shake as you push open the door to Daniela’s section of the library and your eyes widen at the image in front of you

Daniela is cowering in the corner, blood running down her face. The window at the center of the ceiling is open

Beneath it, lies Daniela’s right arm, still clutching the sickle. Slowly, the insects of it die and lose formation

When a shot is fired into Daniela’s chest again, you run forwards.

You haven’t got a plan, really, but don’t need one either. Bela is fast to grab the intruder, her body slightly slower than normal due to the cold

Still, her sickle pushes inside of the man easily, and rips back out harshly

You pay them no mind, instead fall to your knees next to the auburn haired woman

She calls your name softly, and you cry as her soft lips harden and begin to crystallise

“I’ve got you, I promise!”, you croak out. You don’t dare wrap your arms around her. She looks so…fragile

Daniela cries helplessly as she attempts to reach you despite her frozen legs and crystallising remaining arm

You cup her cheek gently. You can practically see the life draining from her

This can’t be it, can it?

Your eyes widen as hers slip shut and her body nearly falls forwards

“Dani!”

For a mere moment, golden eyes open again. She’s whimpering softly as tears run down her cheeks

Judged by the large crack in her skin, you doubt she even can talk properly

You flinch when Bela is suddenly back at your side, her hand holding Daniela’s

You whimper as the woman’s ring finger breaks off

How can you stop this?!

Bela seems to have a solution. You’re a mess, as though unable to do anything but watch as life slips from Daniela

With her sharp teeth grazing her wrist, Bela hisses when dark blood flows from her

Daniela barely reacts when her sister’s hand is pressed to her lips and Bela pulls her to her chest

“Drink up, little one, please”. You wonder- is your voice as shaky as hers? Yet as you open your mouth, no words come out and you only choke on your tears

Your hands shake as Daniela drinks, and yet it does nothing at all. Flies keep dropping to the floor, blood keeps running from her wounds

“Dani. Daniela!”, you gasp when her eyes slip shut yet again and she no longer drinks from her sister

She’s pale, and sweat sticks to her forehead

She’s shivering even as the room adapts a normal temperature again

“Please, keep your eyes open, my love”, you beg. You doubt your words even reach her

You whimper as your hands wrap around her and you feel her cold skin

“Please. She needs me”, you whisper to the blonde next to you

She too seems to notice her blood does little to nothing to save her injured sister

“She would never forgive me…”, she argues, yet you see the defiance in her eyes

Bela is no fool and knows, this is the only way

She knows too, Daniela will hate her should anything happen to you. She loves you so painfully much…

Still, she obliges, and you groan in pain when you feel her sharp teeth injure your neck. Immediately, blood starts to flow and Daniela opens her eyes again

She cries as she is brought to your neck, her weak hand attempting to push against you

You cry with her when it breaks off and falls into Bela’s hands

“Dri-nk”, you urge, even as blood fills your mouth

It seems, Daniela can’t control herself in her state

You scream at her sharp teeth on your neck, digging in and biting

Still, through teary eyes, you see flies are no longer falling from her

After a minute or so, her legs begin to stop crystallising and even adapt a fresh colour again

You sway slightly. You’re starting to feel dizzy

“Daniela, that’s enough.”, Bela urges

You raise a weak arm to catch her wrist when she attempts to push Daniela off

“Nnjo, she neaads…dis…”, you slur out

Your hand raises weakly to Daniela’s hair, but you get no reaction from her as she feasts on you. In fact, you aren’t even sure whether she notices it

Your vision is blurry now, and you struggle with breathing

Bela attempts to tug her sister off for a moment, yet only a few seconds after her lips are pulled from your neck, she already writhes in pain and you notice her arm crystallise again

When she is pulled back against you, Bela does not interfere again, but merely watches with her knees tucked to her chest

You feel your life being drained by Daniela, yet make no effort to stop it. She…needs you

And you’re willing to give your life for hers

Daniela feels so…disoriented…when she awakens

She stares around the room, and smiles exhaustedly upon realising she is in one of your sweaters

Covered by thick blankets, she searches the room for you

Where are you? Why aren’t you with her? Is she still being too clingy?

Is she still annoying…?

Daniela calls out your name quietly, but no reply follows

Surely, though, you wouldn’t have given her your clothes if you are still angry…right?

She calls your name a little louder and winces at the pain in her throat. She feels so sore, even as she is already on the mend

When her door swings open, she grins eagerly. She misses you already! Where are you? Why aren’t you with her?

Daniela’s smile falters as Bela steps into the room instead. But…where are you?

Upon having her older sister press her hand to her forehead, she eagerly leans against her

Daniela smiles when a small kiss is pressed against the top of her head

“I’m happy to see you’re doing better, little fly. Mother will be up here shortly”, Bela sighs. She winces at the view of the sweater on her sister

She knows, she will need to tell Daniela

The auburn haired woman presses herself closer to her sister, all too happy to feel the small warmth she gets from her

She almost winces again when Daniela asks about you. Where you are. What happened

Daniela freezes when she receives her answer

No. Surely not.

She laughs at Bela’s face. “Where are they?”, she asks, giggling. No. No. Surely not. Bela must be joking. You aren’t taken from her. What a silly idea!

Daniela giggles even as tears stream down her face. No, no no no no. You aren’t taken from her!

She clutches the sweater tightly as she cries

No, no. No. Yes. No. No, it can’t be!

A week later, seven days without you by her side, Daniela seems to understand

When Bela goes to check up on her younger sister like she does every day, she is quite unprepared for the screaming festival she has started

She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t even shake as Daniela lets out her anger on her

Sharp nails dig into Bela’s pale skin as she holds her sobbing sister

“Why didn’t you stop it?!”

“It’s all your fault!”

“You caused this!”

“Why couldn’t you kill him faster?!”

“I hate you!”

“You’re the worst sister in the world!”

“You took them from me!”

Each word stings, yet she knows, Daniela doesn’t quite mean it. Not by the way she presses herself closer to her dear sister, by the way Daniela begs for comfort and understanding even as she causes blood to run down Bela’s fingertips

She realises. You’ve been taken from her. And it’s all her fault

[fullofmeihem]

Where are the marks of your failed arts?

lies of p paring: pinocchio x reader word count: 1226 cw: i suppose it's more fluff than anything, lil angst, scars (bare minimum description of them), bare skin, reader isn't described with any traits beyond scars, can be seen as platonic or romantic idc

a/n: second real post lets gooo, i mentioned in a response to an ask but yeah, requests are open rn. i just beat the fuckin swamp boss in my play through y'all, it was sO GROSs, my streams are getting shorter too ;c im tired

Pinocchio was no longer new to change, in fact, change was welcome in his new-found appreciation for the good of the world. Making decisions, while difficult, was a beautiful and complicated process of life. Some decisions hurt more than others, some hurt less. Many of the decisions he had made so far have been social, many of his physical situations didn't allow room for choices.

But he had noticed a difference in his ability to choose while fighting alongside you. A Stalker, human. Your choices aligned with him within those social situations, a silent agreement to minimize the hurt of your collective friends; protecting their hearts as you already did their bodies.

Your worlds coexisted peacefully for a short, yet beautiful time, until his world had broken from the rules they lived by, thrust into the world of rage and submerged anguish. The two of you hadn't met until after the devastation of the frenzy, he'd met you while you had been fighting against The Parade Master.

He could recall it like it was yesterday.

He'd rushed up the stairs and entered the arena-like area after hearing a loud crash, alerted that something sounded off in the area by the merchant outside of the entrance.

You had just been thrown into the metal fence lining the battleground, the metal behind you dented with the force of the puppet's throw. He was quick to notice the multiple other dents within the fence, the fight hadn't been easy for you.

And yet, you got back up.

Blood dribbled its way down your chin as you stumbled back to your feet.

The Parade Master had taken quite the beating, so with one more hit from you it seemed to be done for... It was never that easy. The Parade Master's mask would crack and fall to the floor as it roared with a new rage, a new desire for victory. The puppet was hungry for its win.

Pinocchio had to step in, no longer held back by the amazement of your resilience.

The two of your beat the larger puppet with ease once there were two sources of damage. While the rest of the track to the hotel wasn't easy--this is where Pinocchio learned humans don't heal as quickly as he does--you two had made it.

Tense moments constantly followed the two of you throughout your journey, with almost every battle you'd earned a new wound. These healing injuries would have you holding back in the upcoming fights you needed to face.

With your close travels came trust that ascended beyond battle buddies, you'd become companions. Because of this, you knew very well that Pinocchio could fight most, if not all, of these battles on his own. The insistence of Antonia and Geppetto had you kept in the hotel for the past few weeks, leaving your companion to fight by himself.

At first, it was weird for Pinocchio. He was used to your taunting calls, beckoning your human enemies to mess up and allow for easy openings. He had become accustomed to your anger when a few puppets were being particularly difficult. Occasionally, he had to work around your recklessness, mind-numbing pain sometimes overrode your better judgement. The uniqueness of your person kept him on his toes, and it was a comforting thing for a special creation of man.

But now being on the field felt wrong. Your banter, or often mindless chatter, was a human experience in a world of destruction.

So, a few weeks into your journey of healing, Pinocchio decided to spend some time within the hotel as well.

Pinocchio was wandering the expensive halls when he stopped outside of the wooden door to your room, staring at the material for a moment longer than he usually did. He took the moment as a sign to knock.

You called, asking who it was, when there was a lack of an answer Pinocchio heard you laugh quietly before granting him permission to enter your room.

Bare skin was not a new sight for the puppet, occasionally on the field you'd need to rip your shirt to wrap a wound, or maybe a pant leg, depended on the situation. So he approached in his typical fashion: unbothered.

However, Pinocchio finally noticed things he had yet to about you. Since the situation held no immediate danger, he had allowed himself to study your form, becoming aware of raised or engraved patterns along your skin. Your skin was lighter along some scars, darker along others, again, depended on the situation in which you earned the permanent prize.

Your eyes trailed his, watching what he saw. Your gaze shifted when he brought a hand to your arm, tracing one of your deeper scars with his eerily real synthetic skin.

"I was distracted then," You'd respond to his touch, his eyes would meet yours, "Could've cost me the arm." Your shrug concerned him.

Pinocchio would switch where his fingers lay, tracing a scar along the front of your torso. You let him, noticing how his expression shifted, how his eyebrows pinched towards each other. You knew he remembered how you received this one.

"It wasn't your fault," Reassurance laced your words, though the puppet shook his head. You wouldn't be able to change his mind even if he agreed.

This continued for a while, his fingers would run over, trace, and circle your scars and you would explain how you got them or watch as he battled himself in his mind. There were moments where you wished he'd tell you what he thought, but he was a puppet of little words, and you could understand him through the shifts of his expression.

Finally, his hand would trace over one of your larger scars, one engraved into your back.

You would smile a little, knowing where his hand lay in the maze of your scars.

"Do you remember when we met, P?" Your question was ridiculous to him, of course he did, "That one's from then." You would finish your thought after letting the silence sit in the air for just a moment longer.

Pinocchio would trail his fingers along the main puncture scar, followed by the lesser but still deep scratch scars from your encounter with The Parade Master. He would recall seeing this scar every now and then, aware of its presence. But, the puppet had never been this close to the wound. Eugenie had first taken care of you when the both of you arrived at the hotel, you'd nearly passed out from blood loss.

The softest of smiles graces his features as he remembers how insistent you were about joining him in his journey, even while injured from your first encounter. Sophia had been so against the idea, but she couldn't stop you.

You glanced over your shoulder when Pinocchio's fingers came to a halt, taking in his smile.

"What's so funny, P?" You'd tease, a brow raising at his expression. Soon, you'd lose the warmth of his synthetic skin against your scarred skin.

"Always so persistent, your spirit is admirable," His eyes would meet yours once again, a glint of appreciation present in his expression.

His words would take you for surprise, always a puppet of few words. Nevertheless, you couldn't help but smile as well. He was right, after all, the human spirit was always so persistent.

:)

[mlm-writer]

If I Should Become a Stranger (Smokescreen x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Smokescreen (TFP ver.) x Human!Gender Neutral!Reader Rating: General Audiences Words: 1608 POV: Second Summary: Smokescreen left you over a decade ago to rebuild Cybertron and until today, you had not heard from him since. Note: Read a Transformers novel and then it really dawned on me how beings with such a long life span must view time differently. So this fic explores that a little. Inspired by this song. Tags: angst, hurt no comfort (for smokey tbh), breakup from Smokescreen’s POV and song fic. 

Humans would argue that in war, there was nothing as precious as love. In war, one should hug one's friends more often, hold one's family tighter and kiss one's lover longer. Such was the philosophy of men; cherish what you have now you have it. It was quite befitting to a race with such short lives. Cybertronian's however…

Even in war, many acted like life would never end. There was plenty of time to fight one's friends. There was even more time to find it in you to mend things, patch up the wounds you created together. Even when friends started to lose the light in their optics, when the streets started to fill with the husks of neighbours, when tomorrow was more a wish than a promise, even then, Cybertronians were often found doing anything but cherishing the moment. 

Smokescreen was no different. Sure, he was impatient and young by comparison, but even to him, everything seemed to be able to wait, 'fore there will be a later. Hence why he had no reservations about going to Cybertron to rebuild. Hence why he could look upon his human lover with a smile as bright as the full moon on a clear night, while saying his goodbyes. "I'll see you soon," he had said while swaggering backwards into the space bridge. You had believed him as much as you had loved him back then.  

"Hey Ratchet, any messages for me?" You asked as you always did when visiting the medic at the old base. Ratchet looked down at you with those same sorry optics. He didn't need to say anything, but he always gave you the courtesy of an answer. 

"I'm sorry, there has been no communication for you," he spoke evenly, trying to keep the pity out of his voice. It was always like that. At first you stopped by every few days, then weekly, monthly, every few months… at some point you forgot to go altogether. You moved for work, so it was suddenly a whole journey to come visit. You got fired from that job, then you got a new job. You fell in love, got your heart broken, broke a limb, healed both and what else? It was just life - life without sentient alien robots, explosions and secret government missions. 

It almost seemed like it had all been a dream. You had almost forgotten about all the adventures of your youth, were it not for that scar on your arm you got from a brief brush with Soundwave at the satellite array. That was just the start, but somehow you made it through several threats to the planet fairly unscathed. That scar on your arm was the only big reminder you had of those days aside from the pictures stuffed in a box in your garage, somewhere on a shelf that was too high for you to reach without a chair to stand on. 

You were about to drive back from work to that garage when you caught sight of a familiar car in the parking lot. The colours were not as you remembered them, but it was strange to see a sports car like this at an office like yours. You stared at the vehicle for a long time and then sighed, before opening the driver's door to your car. However, as soon as you opened the door, the sports car you had been staring at earlier flashed its lights and started honking. You squinted your eyes and closed the door again. 

You locked your car and walked over to the other car that was making a ruckus. As soon as you approached, it quieted down and the driver’s door opened on its own. Against your best judgement, you got in. When you sat down, the seat belt wrapped itself around you and the engine revved to life. “Missed me?” A familiar voice came from the radio as the car drove out of the parking lot to God-knows-where. However, hearing that voice, you felt no fear, no worries, just a deep-seated resentment that had been dormant for many years. 

“Smokescreen,”  you greeted your ride with a tight voice. Said Autobot made a joke about how you simply could not forget him. It only angered you more. You had forgotten, mostly, until now. After that greeting, the air chilled down and not a word was exchanged, until Smokescreen pulled up at the side of an abandoned road. There used to be a factory at the end of it, but since the building had been decommissioned, no one used the road anymore; it was leading to virtually nowhere nowadays. 

The seat belt unfastened and you got out. When your shoes hit the dusty ground, the vehicle transformed into a shape that you used to know. You marvelled at his size as if it was the first time you witnessed his transformation. Cybertronians did not age, but that young face you used to know seemed more mature anyway. There was something about his gaze that got more intense, more serious. There was a slouch in his posture that was the telltale weight of responsibilities befitting an adult. 

Smokescreen whispered your name after a while of quiet staring. “Why are you here?” You inquired as a response. Hurt was evident on his face, but you thought it was a valid question. For over a decade, there was radio silence. Why would he be here if not for another danger looming over your planet? 

Smokescreen let out a scoff. “To see you of course!” He beamed in spite of everything. It was your turn to scoff as you crossed your arms. Your ex looked you over and then, very intelligently, said: “You’ve become bigger! That’s really cool! I forgot humans could do that… Want to go to the drive-in theatre today?” 

You sighed and turned to walk back to your car. It was gonna be a long walk, but you were stubborn and too prideful to tell him to drive you back. “There are no drive-in theatres in this area..” 

You barely got a few steps away when Smokescreen yelled from behind you. “I should have left you a message! I’m sorry!” You kept walking, tears prickling in your eyes. “I forgot!” He added as if it was a valid excuse. 

“Well, I forgot who you are!” You yelled over your shoulder, speeding up your walking. You heard your ex transform behind you and like a bad movie, he started driving next to you. All that was missing was pouring rain, but the sky was so clear, you could see the many constellations gradually making themselves known. 

He was driving with the door closest to you open, trying to get you to get in. “Come on! It has not been that long! I admit I have changed a little, but I’m still me, your Smokey…” You tried to block his voice out, stubbornly trudging on down the abandoned road. “I came back, because I started talking about you so much, Arcee practically shoved me into the space bridge to shut me up. It’s been like my processors always circle back to you.” He swerved and came to a halt right in front of you, forcing you to stop walking. “I told you I would see you soon…” 

You took a deep breath, ensuring that whatever you said next would be spoken in a normal, even tone. Smokescreen reverted back to bot mode, looking at you with pleading optics that could once pull your heartstrings. However, those times were long behind you. “Smokescreen,” you started like you were lecturing a child, “it has been like what? A decade and some? That may not be a long time for you, but I am human. A decade right now is about a third of my life. You made me wait a third of my life. Does that sink in with you?” 

Smokescreen seemed to shrink, pinned under your intense gaze. “I’m sorry,” he muttered eventually. His servos clenched and unclenched. You could see his processors working overtime, just to formulate a response. “I guess you’re right. Cybertron has become quite lively. I proved myself a leader. I made a lot of new friends… Maybe it is a long time…” For someone with a seemingly endless supply of RAM, he was awfully slowly putting the events of the past decade in perspective. His voice trailed off after every sentence. Eventually he just whispered one last thing. “A third…” 

You pitied him. You had enough time to mend the heart he broke many years ago. To him, however, he came back like he said, just to find what he left behind to no longer exist. Without a word he transformed into his alt mode. “I’ll take you back,” he stated. You did not resist this time and got in. 

The drive back was quiet. You did not speak. He did not speak. Only white noise filled the spaces between one heavy spark and only a slightly lighter heart. He drove you back to the parking lot where you had your car. You were about to get out when you heard his voice one last time. “For what it is worth, let me just say: I love you. You’re the best thing I ever had.” 

In spite of him being a stranger from the past, your heart ached. “Your life is long. You’ll love again. Don’t worry.” You patted the steering wheel and then got out. You did not look back and by the time you sat in your car, your car was the only one in the parking lot with the lights on.

[xysidhequeen]

I know in your Red Knight AU, Jason when on the rampage in another realm, after finding out that Batman replace him with another Robin.

Did Danny manage to be there for him during that time?

He did! Danny was always there for Jason. He actually wanted to chase after Jason immediately, but luckily, the first thing he did was panic call Jazz, absolutely out of his mind. Jazz promptly told Danny to let Jason have some space for a little bit to process.

Which was for the best, really. Jason needed to not feel like he was trapped and that he could be angry. He never really got that before. But the most important thing is Danny came after him and brought him home. Jason needed to feel like he could be angry, but also, like his anger wouldn't mean he'd be punished or abandoned. It was a very delicate time for him, but Danny, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and all our favorite ghosts made sure Jason knew he was very much wanted still. And that he was utterly irreplaceable.

Skulker handled this by breaking all of his weapons and suits overnight and saying he didn't know how to fix them. (Jason very much knew what he was doing, but the time spent on fixing things helped ground him)

Ember handled this by announcing that she couldn't possibly ever sing ever again unless her only other band member was there (Still very obvious, but music time with Ember usually devolved into very necessary crying time. A lot of ice cream was consumed)

Johnny and Kitty handled this by getting into a MASSIVE fight and refusing to speak to each other unless Jason mediated. (This actually was far less obvious, as the two tend to get into fights often. No one is actually certain if the fight was fake or not to this day, but they also haven't broken up once since and Jason is incredibly proud of that)

Fright Knight handled this by.... well, actually, he took the blunt approach and told Jason there was no one in any realm dead or alive he'd ever consider worthy to be his apprentice besides Jason. (This was highly effective as Frighty has always been bluntly honest with Jason. He didn't wholly believe it but it was a comfort. Frighty then beat his ass in a spar and he didn't think of much else)

Basically, everyone was there for Jason. Not just Danny. Jason was made to feel like his anger and hurt were valid, because they were. But he was also not just told, but shown how precious he was to every life he touched. He didn't get it, not at first and he struggled to really believe it.

It wasn't until later, after Danny opened up more about his own trauma and the effects it had on him that Jason actually began to somewhat understand more of what Jazz meant when she said Danny was getting better. He pieced more of the story together from the others to paint a better picture, and that's when it clicked for him. As much as he needed Danny, Danny had needed him just as much. (Clockwork may have had a hand in this as well, but whatever those two talked about, no one will ever know)

Also, as an aside, once everything calmed down, Danny was very pleased to learn the rebelling realm was now back under control and quite terrified of the Ghost King and his Knight. It saved him so much paperwork.

So yeah, this was a bit all over the place, but hopefully, it answers your question. Team Phantom and the ghosts are basically a very large family, and they might fight and bicker, but they seriously pull through and muster together if anyone is hurting. They're a bit clumsy sometimes with it, but the love they all feel is very obvious. I really, really wanted to give Jason a much more healthy origin story into becoming Red Hood than he got in canon. The poor boy went through enough. It was past time for him to get to heal.

Jason still has some hangups. His abandonment issues are still there, and his fear of rejection. But it's not as bad as it was, and because he'd been allowed to express his anger without being punished(or enabled, anger is a fine emotion to feel. But you should never let it consume you) for it, he figured out how to manage it.

He might still slip now, and then, he has trauma, and that won't go away. But Danny will never, ever let him fall. Neither will the rest of the weird little eclectic family they've built.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

S/O who is use to being told to suck it up when injured no matter had bad, slips on black ice (the stuff no one can see) brakes their ankle in the morning and the gos to work for the full 8 hours before coming home. They try to hide the limp because that's " unsightly" but they still make tiny pained sounds when going up stairs

Undertale Sans - He was worried when you came home and obviously tried to avoid him, but dude, you're not the first one to do this to him. Papyrus already did before you and he's not as blind as you think. He catches your soul in the stairs and makes you fly back to him, asking you where you hurt yourself. When you tell him you did that in the morning, he sighs deeply and asks you why you thought it was a good idea to hide it. He's taking you to the hospital, either you want it or not.

Undertale Papyrus - You can see he is worried. He keeps looking at your back whenever you're passing near him, and he's discretly checking your HP often. When he sees it keeps dropping though, he intervenes and asks you to cut the bullshit and tells him where you got hurt. When he lears you broke your ankle, he's horrified. You two will need to have a serious talk about this. That can't keep going like this.

Underswap Sans - He thought you just twist your ankle and let you be, but the next morning, when he finds you crying in bed with a bad fever, he calls Undyne to check on you. Undyne tells Blue you broke your ankle and that because you used it, it might have infected now. Blue feels guilty. He should have seen that! He knows you're always minimizing these things. You lucky you got treated in time. Blue will be more careful from now on.

Underswap Papyrus - He just wanted to rub your ankle since it looked painful, and since you would not let him do it while awake, he does it when you're asleep. He panicks when you suddenly scream in pain, and he got triggered because he really well felt your ankle was in two parts when he rubbed it. He's quite hurt you didn't even think to talk to him about this, but it's not important right now. He's taking you to the hospital, you need help.

Underfell Sans - He calls you out on your bullshit the second you're going home. Edge is exactly like you and he knows when something is wrong. You scream at him to leave you alone, but he refuses before you tell him what's wrong. When you finally tell him you broke your ankle, he just sighs. He then proceeds to tell you how Edge did the same thing once and almost die of an infection, to scare you enough for you to bloody talk to him. He won't get mad because you hurt yourself! Now please, let him help you.

Underfell Papyrus - He can see you're weird, but he's not a pushover and he's not sure you want to talk about it so he says nothing. He's still wincing every time you whine. Since he keeps thinking about it, he talks to it to his brother to ask for advice. Red explodes when he sees you have a broken ankle, saying you're exactly the same and that he doesn't know what he will do of you two. Edge is not really happy to take a stray bullet, but he's also feeling a bit guilty about it. He apologizes for not seeing it sooner and promises he will try to be more careful in the future.

Horrortale Sans - He (not so) accidentally broke human ankles before and he can see right away what's your problem at the big bump on your ankle that shouldn't be here. He stops you in your track and carry you in the couch to try and heal the fracture himself, but he's not good at healing magic and he's getting more and more frustrated because he can't help you. You decide to call a doctor to come and inspect you so he stops worrying so much. You won't escape the cuddle session at the end to comfort the both of you though.

Horrortale Papyrus - He doesn't say anything, but you can see him frowning every time you walk near him, and the more time passes, the more he gets upset. After one too many whine, he corners you and begs you to tell him what's wrong because he really can't take it anymore. He's not sure why you won't talk to him, but he is worrying sick now and he needs to know. He looks at you in disbelief when you answer you broke your ankle and just expects it to fix miraculously by itself. Willow takes a deep breath, gently brings you in the couch, sits you, calls a doctor, and then starts to lecture you to death. You're stuck. You can't flee. Just give up.

Swapfell Sans - He calls you out immediately, as he is quite observant, and he will agressively heal you why lecturing you to death and calling you a dumbass. He also assures you again that you can talk to him, he's here for this, and that you're really not forced to hide these things from him, because he did it Underground and that brought nothing but problems and more people hurt in the end.

Swapfell Papyrus - That probably didn't help that, while you were climbing the stairs, Rus fucked up a teleportation and crashes above you, making you two fall all the way down. Rus feels like the worst scum of planet Earth and even if you say he didn't break your ankle, he can't stop telling himself he did and that he is an horrible person. At least you're matching as he broke his wrists in the fall. Nox is babysitting you like six years old to make you pay.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Bold of you to assume he didn't see you slip on the black glace. As you're working, Wine intrudes your work place, picks you up and brings you to the hospital without a word. You don't even know what to say. Wine doesn't ask you for explanations, he gets it, really, he's just like that too. But maybe next time don't trigger his cameras if you really want to stay sneaky.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Wine told him you fell in front of the house. Coffee ran after you, slipped on the black ice as well and broke his coccyx. You two are whining on the floor while Wine is calling an ambulance, looking at you two in disbelief. You're going to be his death one of these days...

[fluffysucker]

I vow to always be yours.

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Au)

Yours and Bucky's story told through your vows in your wedding day.

Part 2

"Bucky, I thought writing my vows would be the easiest thing. But turns out it's not. The only thing I could think about was the life we shared together.

At the age of 6, playing on the playground, I met this short blond boy who I learnt can't keep stuff to himself. Despite running his mouth quite often, I felt bad for him when others would make fun of him. So, me being me, I started looking out for him. Trying to hold him back or keep bullies from hurting him. And as a thank you, he would force his mum to take us to get ice cream. It became an almost weekly occurrence.

One week, after I -thanks god - managed to keep him from trouble, he told me his other friend, Bucky, is going to join us for ice cream this week. I was looking forward to meeting the boy version of me, according to Steve. We reached the ice cream shop and so behold, there were you. The most arrogant cocky 6 year old I have ever met. I didn't know the meaning of these words back then, but I knew one thing. I hated you so much. You think you are a better friend ohh I will show how good friend I'm. This day started the most annoying, irritating friendship I had in my life.

That little girl would pass out if she saw us now.

Years passed, and we had only two goals in our lives. Keep Steve alive, and don't kill each other. We used to piss each other so much that at dinner, we weren't allowed to speak. At school, people legitimately thought we hated each other. Which I thought was true too.

Until one day when were 14

You were away to visit your family, and Steve was being Steve. He managed to get himself in trouble. Big one this time. With seniors in high schools. The bikers kind parents always told us to avoid. Steve came running to my house telling me what happened and that we were supposed to be fighting these bikers soon. While Steve was trying to live up to the role of hero he always loved, I just laughed at him and told him we just have to tell bucky and he is going to handle it well and we will be okay. Steve looked to me and reminded me that the root of the problem wasn't his big mouth. It was that you weren't here. Bucky wasn't here. It downed on me like a bucket of ice. I started to panic thinking we were going to die and bikers we were going to eat us alive. Because you're not here. Because a part of me always knew that despite our very deep hatred for each other, you are my bestfriend. You always look out of me as well. You never let me take punch even if I was willing to. It was always you standing in front of us.

We managed to handle the fight with minimum losses, but I was left with the biggest wound ever. Maybe I don't hate as much as I think. The thought kept me at night. I can't possibly like you. Making fun of you is a personality trait. I thought that once you came back, everything would go back to normal, and I get back to my true self

You came back and I was faced with a bigger problem. I like way more than I thought. Why are your eyes so blue?. Was your smile always so charming?. How are you so handsome for a 14 year old?. All questions that I never thought of before and had no answers for.

I tried to convince myself it's a side effect of my period. That's all going to go away soon.

However, shit happened. I was left completely broken and defenceless. I couldn't tell you what happened. I had to keep it inside, thinking that it may go away like it never happened. But being the best friend you truly are, I found myself crying to you, spilling every bad thing they put me through. And you were there. You comforted me. Held me. Walked me through the pain and the journey of healing. Kept reminding me that I'm safe. Stayed by my side when it got too much.

All stuff that weren't helping my case of going back to hating you.

Untill one night. It was a tough one where I couldn't keep the demons at bay. You took me out and we watched the sunrise together. You looked at me, and you said you got me. That everything will be fine. I'm going to be alright.

From that day on, I never felt afraid again. Because I had you. I will always be fine because you are by my side.

I declared the end of the war with myself with the greatest victory ever. I love you.

I love you, and I could only hope in my heart that you love me too.

Two years passed, and we are juniors at high school now. I tried to keep my feelings hidden, but when you ask out Milly on a date, there is only so much I can keep. Silent treatment and acting like I'm not bothered were my go-to solutions in such situations. Because having you as a friend is better than nothing. But you didn't make it any easier too. You had to go around calling me your girl and making everybody know I'm off limits. Truth was, I didn't want anyone else.

After so much trying to find the truth about your feelings, turns out an invitation to Lily's birthday and a bunch of very bad one-liners from Rick was all you needed to ask me out.

And at the age of 16, you took me out on our first date. It was the best date I have ever been on. Spending half of your money for the whole month on me. Up to today, I can't believe a 16-year-old could be such a gentleman.

As you were walking me home, you told me you wanted today to be our anniversary. I asked you if you think we are going to have anniversaries to celebrate and you answered with lots and lots.

Here we are 15 years on the same day you took me out for the first time. I thought that I was already in love with you back then, but now, there are no words in the entire world enough to describe my love for you. My unconditional love for the man of my dreams. Better than my dreams.

You bring the light to my life. You bring life to me. You make everything better.

I don't know who I'm when I am not in love with you and I don't want to know her. Because you bring the best in me. You push me to be better. Help me be better. You encourage me to do stuff I never think are possible. You, lucky star

Through all my life, it's you who has been constant in my life. The one thing I know I can always run to. The secure place that holds me safe in the face of hardships. The arms that keep me warm and protected. You, my home.

The person I share all my days with. The person I went to college with. The person I go to work with every day. The persons I go home to. The person I want to tell my details with. You, my best friend

The man I've known my whole life. The man I've been in love with as long as I can remember. The love of my life. The man I want to share the rest of my life with. Build a house and have a family. You, my husband.

I vow to love you till the end of times and even after. To stay best friends forever. To keep Steve alive together. To make Sam hate his life a bit more every day. To see which of us get the better death stare from Nat. To annoy all of our friends with how much we love us each other. To always be your support, your fan, your family.

Till death do us apart, but even in death, I will find you.

I love you so much, Bucky Barnes "

[autistook]

DAISIES - pt 21

Merry Brandybuck x fem!hobbit!reader / soft oc

Words: 4k

Summary: Healing from the wounds, both physical and mental, you spend time together in Minas Tirith.

Possible TW's: ptsd, panic attacks, intimacy

AN: This is a little bit of an all over the place sort of a chapter, because I wanted to show the little things after war instead of yet going back to the main story. Only a few chapters left folks. ♡

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

-----

“It's not so bad,” you responded. Merry glanced at your belly, which was covered by a white dress.

“Are you certain? I wouldn't want you to get hurt,” he said, visibly concerned. “It will be dangerous.”

“Merry, just have an eating contest with me for Eru's sake.”

Merry chuckled, still uncertain of your condition. He nodded and took a deep breath. He gave a countdown and at zero, both of you started devouring pieces of delicious bread. It almost felt like you were back in the Shire, sitting in the same old bakery, having the same old eating contests; but nothing was the same anymore. Some in good ways, some bad. But Merry and you? It felt good.

The day went on. The sunlight was making Minas Tirith shine bright white, so white in fact it was almost blinding. Merry’s fingers were interlocked with yours as the two of you walked around the streets, every now and then stopping to help people pick up the pieces of their forever changed lives.

As the sun began to set and painted the sky shades of purple, orange and pink, you and Merry climbed on a broken piece of a wall and sat down, some tiny pieces of the wall falling down with faint sounds. The Hobbit put his arm around you and you crossed your right food over his, your large feet tangling together.

“I believe Frodo will be alright,” Merry said to you for comfort.

You did not respond. You had seen the look in your brother’s eyes. It was not one that would ever fully heal and you had begun to wonder if Frodo would even be able to return to the Shire.

“I hope so,” you responded.

Merry squeezed your shoulder and pressed his lips on your temple.

“Hey,” he said and you turned to look at him, locking eyes with his. “Everything will be alright. Everything is alright. Pippin, Sam, Frodo, you and I; we all made it. Éowyn made it. We are alive and that is worth celebrating. Sure we had some losses, but we survived.”

“I cannot help feeling like something is wrong,” you said. 

It was true. Ever since you heard the Nazgûl screech in Buckland, something did not feel right. Every time you thought of home, there was a weird twisting sensation in your belly; you just couldn’t quite wrap your finger around it. Not yet anyway.

“I promise you,” Merry started and turned towards you a tad more. “Even if something turns out to be wrong, everything will fall back into place.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Merry smiled softly and soon his gaze drifted to your mid-section again. He tended to stare at your belly shamelessly, as if to beg for your reassurance that you were indeed feeling alright.

“Do you want to check on it?” you asked and Merry nodded. 

“Maybe later, yes. Right now, I just want to enjoy this sunset and be with you.”

“You know,” you said. “You’ve grown to be quite a romantic. It’s gross.”

Merry let out a warm bark of laughter. He had indeed started to get more and more comfortable with affection; public affection too. The people of Minas Tirith would more often than not see the two of you walking together, hand in hand. Someone who found the romantic gestures rather amusing, was Pippin. He had waited for the day you two would finally meet again and confess each other's feelings, and to him it was like a birthday present when he found out. Every time Pippin walked past you he grinned so wide you were certain you had never seen such happiness before.

Merry was trembling. Cold droplets of sweat were pouring all over his skin and his lower lip was quivering as he weeped in your arms. You held his healing arm tightly, trying your best to provide some warmth to the hand that suffered excruciating pain when it was cold.

“You'll be alright,” you whispered softly, rubbing his arm with your thumb. “Just take a deep breath.”

“It hurts,” Merry whispered through his tears.

“I know, I know,” you comforted, your heart aching. “It will feel better. Do you want me to summon Aragorn?”

“No, don't,” Merry said in an instant. “I do not want to trouble him.”

“Merry,” you said. “Please, you're in pain.”

“Please,” Merry pleaded back. “Just stay with me and hold me.”

Your heart crunched with worry. You pulled him closer to yourself, almost flush against your body and began caressing his hair with your other hand.

“Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere, Merry.”

You woke up with Merry's head resting on your chest. His pain seemed to have subsided at some point during the night as he kept nodding before he passed out in your arms. 

Merry had slept for at least an hour while you were awake and for many more after you fell asleep. You were not sure how many hours you slept for, but it was again day-time and Pippin was behind the door, talking to some healers about his own wounds.

You looked down at Merry's soft curls and smiled as your fingers travelled through them. Just the sensation of Merry close to you made you feel like you were almost back at home, instead of Gondor after the great battle of the Third Age. His warm scent filled your nostrils and you pressed your nose against his curls for some more comforting smells.

The smell reminded you of home. Home that was so far away. Far away and with many reminders of the battle you had fought through. The battle that you had to witness. The blade in your belly. The dead Rohirrim. Théodred. Rath.

You didn't remember much after your body began shaking and Merry's faint voice reached your ears, drowning somewhere immediately. All you could see was black and hear ringing in your ears. And among the ringing; all the cries of the battle, the screams of agony, the pain, the horns and the threats. All you could smell was burning flesh, smoke, blood and cold air.

And then Merry's soothing thumb was on the back of your hand again and his big wide eyes stared into yours.

“Welcome back,” he said with a warm, welcoming smile.

Your hair was clinging to your forehead and had gone almost flat from sweat. Your dress was practically see-through and your fingers were numb. 

“I don't know what happened,” you stuttered, barely able to form any coherent sentences.

“It's alright, sweetheart,” said Merry and squeezed your hand. “You had a panic attack.”

“I thought I would die,” you said shakily. Indeed, it had felt like your body was burning among the corpses and your head had been spinning so hard one might have thought an oliphaunt dropped on you and crushed your brain. “I've never had one so bad.”

“It's not a surprise. You’ve been through a lot, to say the least.”

You gave a nod and squeezed his hand back. You could see Merry's eyes roam your dishevelled hair and your shoulders where the dress was clinging.

“I must look disgusting,” you said and brushed your hair behind your pointy ears.

“You look unwell, yet like the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“Merry…”

“I mean it. Even at your worst, you take my breath away,” Merry said and took your breath away instead. Your ears wiggled happily and Merry let out a soft chuckle. 

Merry lifted his hands and caressed the shells of your ears gently, making them vibrate harder and your cheeks flush. You squirmed your neck and let out a soft giggle, which made Merry's heart soar.

“That is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard,” he said.

“What is?” you asked, still smiling ear to ear as he now caressed the tips of the fluttering ears.

“Your laugh. I've missed making you laugh so shyly,” he grinned and made you giggle once again.

“Oh, hush.”

“I mean it!”

“You're being disgusting, Meriadoc,” you teased and he put his hand on his heart, feigning offense.

“How dare you!” he gasped dramatically. “I am simply showing appreciation to the woman I love. Allow me to compliment you in peace!”

Your ears fluttered more. More than they had ever done before, at least in front of Merry. He looked amused and tilted his head.

“What makes you so flustered?” he asked.

“You,” you responded honestly and your lips curled up into a coy smile. “Calling me the woman you love. It feels new.”

“Is it a bad kind of new or a good kind of new?” he asked.

“The good kind.”

You woke up to Merry shaking you, your screams of terror coming to an end.

Another nightmare.

You would spend hours upon hours taking turns seeking comfort in the other's arms as the waves of traumas hit you two like tsunamis. Big, instant, deadly.

“Will it ever stop?” you asked, sniffling and wiping away tears. 

“Eventually,” Merry said, rubbing his palm in soothing circles over your back. “I promise.”

“So much pain,” you said. “In my heart. It is so heavy. Oh, Merry. This has all been too much.”

“You're strong and courageous,” Merry said and pulled you into a tight embrace. “You can handle it, even when it feels like too much.”

“What if I can't?”

Merry turned his head in a snap and furrowed his brows as he looked at you disapprovingly and worried.

“Don't ever say such a thing,” he said sharply but in a warm tone that indicated he did not mean it in a threatening way.

“I'm sorry, I just…. It's so hard, Merry. There's so much that happened and… and…”

“Sweetheart,” Merry sighed and kissed the top of your head gently. “You will get through this.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You made your way to the other side of the table and sat down next to your brother. His finger was still wrapped in a white bandage and his face was slightly pale. You put your hand on his back and stroked gently, asking about his well-being silently. Frodo gave a faint smile and nodded, doing his best to convince you that he was going to be alright. Although, he did not believe it himself.

Sam was sitting next to Frodo, eating and laughing merrily. Some chicken was stuck on the corner of his lip and his light hair was still overgrown from the journey. Frodo’s hair had grown more in length than Sam’s, and it was unkempt. 

You looked for Frodo’s eyes once more, asking for reassurance of his physical and mental state. Frodo smiled and squeezed your hand. 

“Good enough,” you thought and resumed eating. Only if you had looked back at Frodo, you would have seen the pain in his eyes and the longing for the sea he had not yet seen.

“How’s your lamb?” asked Pippin, mouth full as he looked at you. You looked up to him and barked a laugh as you noticed all the jam and custard on his cheeks and nose.

“Pippin!” you giggled. “Clean yourself. We are eating with a king!”

“It’s Strider!” Pippin protested with a smirk and kept eating his crepes messily. You chuckled and called for Merry. When you turned your head towards Merry’s direction, he did not hear anything and you could see him gazing at Aragorn and his now wife, a beautiful elf, Arwen. 

A small pang of jealousy hit you. The way he looked at her made your stomach turn, but soon you realized Merry’s mind was elsewhere, not on the elven lady. His eyes were dreamy as he looked at both her and the king. You figured it must have been his admiration for such eternal love as theirs - and in some ways, you were right.

Merry certainly was dreaming as he looked at Arwen and Aragorn, but he was dreaming of having a wedding as such with you and already his heart was doing somersaults planning on how he would one day kiss you on the altar.

Suddenly a splash of cold custard hit your face and as you took your eyes off Merry, you could hear Pippin laugh and see him almost fall off his chair.

“Peregrin Took!” you tutted. “My face is covered in custard!”

“Come on!” Pippin provoked. “Give me your best shot!”

Something snapped in you and you picked up some of the brown, peppery sauce from your plate onto a spoon and aimed it towards the young Took. He dodged it, barely, so you stood up and threw another one, which hit him right on his jawline.

“Ha!” you laughed victoriously. Pippin scooped some jam and threw it at you again and again, which you returned with a handful of custard.

In no time Merry joined and to everyone’s surprise, so did the ringbearer. Sam, on the other hand, watched the antics of the four of you, shaking his head disapprovingly. All the while Aragorn was smiling behind his golden goblet at the end of the long table, admiring the carefree attitude of the Hobbits he had grown to love throughout the past several months. Arwen was smiling fondly next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder, whispering sweet nothings in elvish as they watched all of you fight with food.

Times had been tough, so having any food to waste in a food fight felt like a luxury you had never had before. So many weeks you had gone by with barely any food, and now there was some blueberry jam stuck on your cheek and curls. 

It felt sticky, but it felt like comfort.

The day passed and the moon began to rise. The walls of Minas Tirith bathed in a silvery light as the moon shone down on them. The stars were showing brighter than before; or at least it had felt like it every passing night since the shadow was lifted and the sky was unveiled.

You were sitting on the cold marble of a bench in the Houses of Healing, where you still rested, healing your wound and trauma. Merry had made home in the room next to you to stay close, although his arm was practically healed, if not for the pain during cold weather.

The night was warm and so was your heart when you saw Merry approach you.

“Hullo,” you said softly and he sat next to you at once. He smiled and with no hesitation, his lips pressed against your cheek. You chuckled, confused. “What was that for?”

“For sitting there so prettily,” Merry grinned and stared deep into your eyes, the stars dancing in his.

Your response was naught but a wide smile and the familiar flutter of your ears. Merry took your hand in his.

“I am grateful,” he said.

“For what?” you asked.

“You. I’ve gone through so much - we all have - and I don’t know if I could have done it without you.”

“Merry…”

“I mean it. I visited… I visited King Théoden today and I would not have been able to if it was not for you, my love. I weeped but it felt less painful than it would have if I did not have you to be here for me.”

“How do you feel now?” you asked Merry, thinking about how Merry had grown to see the now passed King of Rohan as a father figure.

“Awfully sad,” Merry said. “I miss him dearly and wish I could have gone and smoked with him as we promised each other. But on the other hand I feel happy. Happy that you are here and alive. Happy that the Ring is destroyed and that everything is back to normal.”

Silence followed Merry’s words. Everything was back to normal, yet it was not. Everything had changed. Sam kept his eye on Frodo in a way you had never seen before, due to everything that happened on their own journey. Pippin was as cheerful as ever, yet the sparkle that used to be in his eyes was not there; not in the same way as before. There was darkness and trauma weighing on young Peregrin Took. Merry was having panic attacks on a regular basis and his arm pained him excruciatingly every cold night. Frodo’s gaze was empty and longing for something he could never have again. He was seen touching around where the Ring used to rest on his neck and chest, searching for it and pain in his eyes. 

And you had pain in your stomach on cold nights or when you slept on it for too long. More than that, you tended to black out from panic attacks when traumatic memories hit you out of the blue.

“So,” you said and cleared your throat. “Do you regret leaving me behind yet?”

Merry’s face dropped. You were joking of course, but Merry could not see the humour in the question.

“I do,” he said with sincerity. “I should never have hurt you in such a way; or at all for that matter.”

Your heart was wrung with pity. You realized it was still not the time to joke about the matter and guilt filled you as you noticed just how bad Merry still felt.

“You do know I have forgiven you, right?” you asked.

“I do,” he responded. “It does not ease the guilt, my love.”

“Well, it should,” you said and cupped his face. You gently looked into his eyes and smiled. “I do not carry a grudge or hate, and you should not feel guilt over something that happened so long ago and something that has been fixed.”

“I can’t help but feel like you would not have gotten hurt if it was not for me.”

You held his face but kept quiet for a moment. Would you have gotten hurt if it was not for Merry? Would you have ever come to Gondor if he had told you about the plan?

“I would have forced myself on the journey with you even if you told me,” you finally said and Merry sighed and nodded.

“You would have,” he chuckled grimly. “But I must still apologize. I feel like it is my fault.”

“Is that why you want to observe the wound so? To see the damage you think you caused?” 

Your eyes met his and he nodded reluctantly. You caressed his cheeks with your thumbs and a tender warmth passed through the two of you, comforting both.

“I wish you had not been hurt.”

“So do I, but I was. And it was not your fault.”

“Are you certain you aren’t mad at me?” he asked for reassurance. Your eyes lingered on his and you nodded.

“Of course I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. Besides, you’ve taken such good care of me.”

You cradled his face slightly tighter between your palms and leaned forward. You softly pressed your lips against his and you could feel him shiver slightly. He responded to the kiss with warm tenderness and put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him on the bench. You kept moving your lips on his, gently but confidently, tilting your head to get closer to Merry. The kiss felt like an unspoken promise of devotion and love, which caused you to break the kiss.

“Merry?” you whispered gently.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice slightly strained as he licked his lips discreetly.

“I love you,” you said softly and he smiled, kissing you again. 

“I love you too,” he murmured between the soft kisses. “More than words can possibly express.”

Every kiss was unhurried and gentle, yet firm enough to indicate to both that the passion between the two of you was growing. Your breaths mingled and his fingers gently gripped the fabric of your dress. You could hear him gasping for air even through the most tender of kisses.

“Merry,” you said again in a quiet whisper, your own voice now shaky.

“Yes?” he asked, his lips gliding over yours once more.

“Stay with me tonight,” you whispered, your voice laced with vulnerability and desire.

Merry gulped and his fingers clung slightly to your dress involuntarily. 

“Stay with you tonight?” he repeated, as if confirming what you had said was real.

“Yes. I do not want to wake up without you.”

Merry nodded softly and kissed you again, slowly, gently, full of unspoken promises. Gently he took your hand in his and with his other hand he gently caressed your cheek as he broke the kiss.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

He stood up slowly but still a little unsteady and fixed his shirt. He laced his fingers with yours tighter and began walking towards his room. You put your free hand on his shoulder and stopped.

“Please, can we go to my room instead?”

Merry smiled and nodded, and you led the way to your room in the Houses of Healing.

The room was glowing softly from the moonlit sky showing through the windows and there was a small candle still lit, creating a warm hue in one of the corners. Merry walked around a bit and picked up some matches, lighting up the remaining candles in your room. He put the matches out and placed them aside on your bedside table, slowly making his way to you again.

He put his hand on your shoulder and gently caressed, locking his eyes with yours. He leaned down and kissed you, his lips pressing firmly against yours with a renewed passion, but still slightly careful.

Your lips moved in sync and you breathed in the air from his lungs, before breaking the kiss to murmur quietly: “Lay with me.”

Merry smiled on your lips and nodded, giving you one more brief kiss before pulling away slightly, just enough to look at you in your eyes. He searched for permission and you nodded. 

His hand gently moved your dress slightly off your shoulder, and his gaze was immediately glued to the small portion of the exposed skin. The sleeve slipped down completely over your shoulder and Merry shivered, his fingers gently tracing the curves of your shoulder and the shape of your exposed collarbone.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered and moved the sleeve down to your elbow, softly moving his fingers down your arm. His fingers were trembling slightly as he moved the fabric and you could feel him shiver.

“Are you alright?” you asked. “We don’t need to do this if you are not certain you want this.”

“I do want this. I want you.”

He looked into your eyes again and his hands found their way to your waist as he kissed you once, tenderly. His hands tugged on the hem of your dress and like an instinct, you raised your arms up and like it was always meant to happen, Merry pulled your dress off you and let it float down onto the floor. 

His eyes worshipped every curve and contour of your body as you stood there in naught but your undergarments. Merry did not blink as he slid his hands down your arms and then your sides, all the way up to your ribs and then back down onto your hips. He leaned forward and began planting soft, appreciative kisses all over the side of your neck and down to the curve between your neck and shoulder. A soft gasp escaped your lips as he moved his lips on your collarbone. 

His lips moved down, down, down and he stopped after he had travelled to your sides and hip. He gently trailed his fingertips over the scar on your stomach, examining it and looking at you with a mix of concern, admiration and desire. 

You looked down at him as he caressed your skin with attentivity and you shuddered as his other hand gently grabbed your hip. He began pressing his lips against your stomach, kissing along and around the battle wound, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire inside of you.

He kissed your thigh and groaned on your skin approvingly before he rose back on his feet and his tall figure stood in front of you once again.

You stepped almost flush against him and began undoing his shirt’s buttons, although shakily. In no time he assisted you, slowly revealing the skin of his chest to you, inch by inch.

As his shirt fell down on the floor, you could not peel your eyes off his chest. It had healed wounds and was full of freckles, each one of them which you wanted to desperately kiss. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, your tongues joining together into a fiery dance. Yes, it was intense, but also gentle and each of Merry’s touches felt like pure love and affection. All of his kisses were meaningful and every time he looked at you, it was clear he worshipped you.

His hands roamed your body, learning every scar and wound inch by inch, and it was so tender it brought tears into your eyes, ones which he wiped away at ease. 

The night passed in a blur of gentle touches and soft whispers. It all felt natural and warm, like it had always meant to have happened.

You were home.

----

@chatteringfox @shiinata-library @ahobbitsjourney23 @mayo-advance @datglutengoblin @mourntheantagonist @channiesbedroom @nicksworld0715