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frost-queen · 6 months ago

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Falling leaves (Reader x Prince Zuko)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 , @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers , @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly ,@denkisclown , @wildieflower ,@meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampthing07 , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat ,@rosecentury , @imagines-by-her , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 ,@avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m , @sweetheartlizzie07

Summary: Lu Ten and you used to be engaged untill the news fell upon you of his death. After Lu Ten's death, grow Zuko and you closer. Eventually falling for each other, but remaining too guilty in honour of Lu Ten. Yet a simple nudge of Iroh eases Zuko in the right direction.

Anxiously you were pacing around in your room. Unable to sleep. Barely even attempted to go to bed when you had such a heavy weight on you. Something was occurring. You could sense it. Ever since Lu Ten has been called out to war, you’ve had nothing but restless sleep. Yet this was different. Mostly you could call asleep at some point.

Now you simply couldn’t. Afraid that if you might go to sleep, you might miss something of importance. There hadn’t been recent notes from him for days now as it started to worry you. Pacing around as your thumb rested between your teeth. Trying, hoping there would be news from him.

Yet deep down, you feared that if you might receive news, it wouldn’t be the best news. Your feet having walked countless steps. Simply going back and forth. It had become a routine, you would do mindlessly. Feet never seeming to tire out.

The candles were almost burned out. But a little stomp with the smallest of flames. Their nature light having dimmed the room. Anxiety rose as you so hoped there wouldn’t be any news. Hoping that Lu Ten was alright and would return from war. If not for the sake of you, then for the sake of his father Iroh. Countless more steps you did. Not once tired.

The sound of sudden knock on the door made you stop. Staring still at that cold door. Swallowing nervously, you blinked rapidly to keep your emotions down. – “Yes.” – you spoke watching as the door opened. You had expected an officer, a soldier, anyone but not him. Iroh came in sight as he pushed the door further open. His gaze kept on the ground. It was enough.

You inhaled deep with a shiver, lip trembling. Iroh entered, closing the door behind him. – “Y/n…” – he started unable to lift his gaze up to you. You noticed a piece of parchment in his hand, slightly hidden behind his back. – “I…my son…” – he said finally lifting his gaze up to you. Eyes glossy with hidden tears.

You bowed your head to him, pressing your lips together to silence your cry. Iroh noticed how you haven’t even prepared to go to bed. Still in full attire as if you had been waiting for any news. Iroh moved his hand with the letter in it, trembling to the front. – “My son…” – he repeated too much of a burden to speak the words. You went down on your knees, laying down, bowing the lowest to him. Iroh sniffled touched by your gesture of respect.

“My deepest apologies to you Y/n.” – Iroh spoke as it made you lift your head up. – “You lost a son.” – you replied not wanting him to apologize to you. There was no need for him to apologize to you. Not while he was grieving so much of his son. – “You lost a love.” – he answered, moving his hands togethers to bow at you. Getting up, you walked up to him. Cherishing your hands under his to lift him up.

Make him stand up straight once more. – “I bow to you.” – you friendly scolded him with a saddened smile. Iroh smiled faintly back at you. He then retired to his own quarters to grief for his son whoever he pleased. The moment he left, you felt yourself unbalance. Wobbly on your feet as it made you bump against the cabinet.

Hand brought up to your mouth, to deafen out your sobs. For your fiancé Lu Ten had lost his life in battle. The shock finally entering your body like an explosion. Shaking you to your core as it made every fibre in you tremble. Tremble as you let out a scream of agony. Scream so loud it died out to grasp for air followed by loud sobs and cries.

The very ground from underneath your feet caved away. For that night and many more nights they would be sleepless. The news of Lu Ten’s passing roamed quickly through the palace. The ceremony in honour of Lu Ten came three days later. Giving Iroh the time to grief alone and in silence. Lu Ten’s ceremony was peaceful. Iroh sat down. Three more empty chairs beside him.

You stood upright to his right. Hands folded together. Many of those who came to pay their respects, only had eyes for Iroh and his grief. Bowing to him without a word. You didn’t need the attention as you were but Lu Ten’s to be bride.

Prince Zuko paid his respects to Lu Ten. He then paused in front of his uncle. Bowing to him as well. For a moment he was about to move on, till he decided to stay. Iroh’s gaze slowly going up as he noticed Zuko had lingered. No one else took the time to linger. – “When my studies weren’t going well and father was unhappy.” – Zuko began looking humble at the ground.

“Lu Ten gave me this.” – Iroh’s gaze went down to Zuko’s hand. Clearly holding something hidden in his palm. – “He won it for finishing first in his officers class. He said it should belong to someone destined to do great things.” – Zuko continued as Iroh recognized it. – “It gave me strength.” – Zuko spoke with clarity. With a soft breath, he knelt down, taking his uncle’s hand to place the medal in his hand.

Zuko rose once more. – “Lu Ten didn’t needed it.” – he spoke looking back at his uncle. – “Because he was the strongest person I knew.” – Zuko finished with a caring smile. His uncle closed his hand on the medal, blinking a few tears away. Zuko then surprisingly turned to you. Holding his hands together to give you a bow.

It made you blink surprised as he was the first person to acknowledge your pain too. – “He loved you very much Y/n.” – Zuko said to you before coming to sit next to his uncle. Showing his gratitude and support to his uncle in his grieving. After the ceremony, you excused yourself from everyone. Heading up to the balcony. Arms resting on the railing as you let the breeze blow your tears away.

You didn’t notice someone approaching till you felt a presence near you. – “Prince Zuko.” – you said surprised, turning to bow at him. Zuko held his hand up with a sheepish smile. – “Please Y/n.” – he said not wanting you to threat him so stiffly as all the others did. With a simple nod, you accepted it. – “What you did for your uncle was very warmly.” – you told him gazing at the view. Zuko came resting his arms on the railing beside you.

“I am sorry not one of them acknowledged your pain, Y/n.” – Zuko said with sympathy. – “It is quite alright.” – you replied in a soft tone. – “It is not.” – Zuko answered with fierceness. – “You loved Lu Ten. You have every right to be threated with respect.” – you could see that he was getting a bit worked up over it. It made you chuckle a bit.

Zuko curled up a smile as well from seeing you light up. – “Thank you.” – you whispered out, feeling as if your heart was lighter. Zuko moved his hand to his chest, bowing to you. You turned back to the scenery, breathing deep. – “I shall leave you now…” – Zuko began with a gesture, already turning his posture away. – “Please!” – you called out making him stop his action. – “Stay.” – you finished sweetly, not wanting to be alone.

Zuko moved back beside you, remaining quiet as he enjoyed the scenery with you. He stayed with you until it grew too cold. Zuko led you back inside, for you to seek out warmth once more. Zuko bowed his head when he had guided you up to your quarters. You bend through your knees to curtsy at him. Zuko kept smiling at you as you closed the door on him. Surprisingly that night you slept well. The moment your head hit the pillow, you dreamed off.

As the sun rose once more, were you greeted by Prince Zuko once more. Waiting for you in the hallways to join you. Give you comfort and set your mind of your grief. It was nice to share more than tears. Zuko and you started to share small talk. Speak about the most simplest of things to get your minds off it. There was still time for grieving, but there were also moments of joy.

As the leaves changed Zuko and you grew closer to each other. Having spend so many time together it was almost impossible to not share a moment together a day. Zuko was once again waiting for you. – “Y/n there you are!” – he exclaimed, taking your hand to pull you along. – “Zuko do you not have studies?” – you questioned. – “Finished early.” – he breathed out, tugging more on you to hurry up.

You raised your eyebrow questionable up to him. Zuko placed his hand on yours that he was still holding. – “Oh come on Y/n. You know what an excellent student I am.” – he let out, making you laugh loud. Zuko led you outside to the pond. – “You should not neglect your studies. Your sister does not.” – you told him.

Zuko groaned soft. – “Can we please not talk about Azula.” – he answered with a bothered expression. – “Alright.” – you gave in moving your hand up. In the pond was a little family of turtle duck as you awed at them. – “Would you like to feed them?” – Zuko proposed already revealing some bread. You looked at him, how clearly he had foreseen this. Zuko shrugged his shoulders, giving you a piece of bread.

You started breaking it into smaller bits, tossing it into the pond. The turtle ducks swam over to it, nibbling on the bread. One of the little one’s bit at the bread, using a bit too much force as he dipped down, head first in the water. It made you laugh soft at how cute that looked. Hearing you laugh made Zuko smile. You started to throw more bread in the pond as Zuko kept giving you crumbled bread to toss.

“Neglecting your studies for low life pets?” – A sharp voice came through making you gasp. – “What do you want Azula!” – Zuko said firm standing in front of you. – “Oh zuzu you humour me.” – Azula responded with a sneer. – “Perhaps you should keep feeding stupid ducks, for I’ll be sure to out do you soon enough… oh wait. I already did.” – she finished with a devilish chuckle. Zuko got tense as he wanted to have a go at her, but you stopped him.

Knowing Azula wasn’t worth it. – “Right have our cousin’s hand me down keep you tamed Zuzu.” – Azula mocked making you clench your jaw. – “Do not speak about Y/n like that!” – Zuko called out. It only seemed to amuse Azula more. – “I shall speak to her how I like!” – Azula shouted back, readying herself. Zuko’s eyes widened when he saw his sister create fire. Sending it towards the two of you.

Zuko wrapped his arms around you, pushing you to the side as he dove with you to the ground. Azula’s fire blowing over your heads. Azula laughed manically before taking her leave. – “Are… are you alright Y/n?” – Zuko questioned, lifting his head up as he suddenly noticed how close he was to your face. You nodded with a soft hum staring with wide eyes at him. Zuko’s eyes flicked briefly down to your lips as did yours.

Heart pounding louder as your eyes got drawn to his lips once more. Wondering what it would feel like to kiss them. For over the past few months that you had been spending more with him, you started to fall in love with Zuko. The sound of your heart beating got overwhelming as in this moment you wanted him to kiss you. The thought seemed to have crossed his mind as well. He moved his head a bit down, already tilting it to the side, slowly closing his eyes.

You felt his breath tickle your lips, anticipating the kiss. – “I…I shouldn’t.” – Zuko said pulling himself away. You got up as well, nodding. – “We shouldn’t.” – you responded, feeling guilty. Guilty for betraying Lu Ten. Zuko helped you up to your feet as you didn’t speak a word. Leaving in separate ways, too ashamed for ruining the memory of Lu Ten.

Zuko made his way into the palace, sighing deep. – “Nephew!” – Iroh’s stern voice came through, startling Zuko. – “Uncle.” – he spoke surprised. – “Were you just outside with Y/n?” – he asked. – “No…yes… I mean…” – Zuko stuttered out not sure how to respond to this. Zuko exhaled deep. – “I know I spend too much time with her and I am sorry for it uncle. I won’t let it happen again.”

Iroh furrowed his brows. – “And why would you want to do that?” – he questioned again. – “Because…” – Zuko started trying to make it obvious without hurting his uncle’s feelings. Iroh picked up on it, chuckling deep. – “If you worry about me do not. I see how the two of you are around each other. You smile more nephew. I like to see you more smile.” – Iroh said with a nudge at Zuko.

“I…I don’t understand uncle.” – Zuko responded confused. Iroh chuckled once more, laying a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. – “If you worry about me do not. I would want nothing more than my favourite nephew to be happy with Y/n.” – he teased him. – “I am your only nephew.” – Zuko joked making Iroh laugh loud. – “Go on.” – Iroh gave Zuko another nudge back in the direction of the gardens. Zuko smiled, hugging his uncle before running back outside to look for you.

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florawrites-blog · 5 months ago

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Don’t worry mama - P.js

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the nightlight, casting shadows that danced across the walls. You paced back and forth, your mind a whirlwind of anxiety. You glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time; it was 1:27 AM. Your heart ached with worry as you peeked into the crib again, watching the shallow rise and fall of your baby’s chest. Every breath was a fragile reassurance that he was still with you.

Jay walked into the room quietly, his presence a calming contrast to your restless energy. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Hey, why don’t you try to get some rest? You need it," he said softly.

You shook your head, your eyes never leaving your son's face. "I can’t, Jay. What if something happens while I’m asleep? I need to be here. I need to make sure he's okay."

Jay stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you. "I understand. I'm worried too. But you need to take care of yourself so you can take care of him. I’ll stay with him tonight. I'll watch over him and make sure he's okay."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "But what if—"

"I promise," Jay interrupted gently, "I won’t take my eyes off him. I’ll sit right here beside his crib. You can rest knowing he's safe."

You hesitated, torn between exhaustion and the overwhelming need to protect your child. Jay's steady gaze finally reassured you. You nodded reluctantly, feeling the weight of the past sleepless nights pressing down on you. "Okay, but wake me if anything changes, no matter how small."

"I will," Jay assured you, guiding you towards your bedroom. "Now, lie down and try to sleep. He needs you to be strong, and you can’t do that if you’re exhausted."

You lay down, every fiber of your being straining to stay awake, but the exhaustion was too much. You fell into a fitful sleep, the worry never fully dissipating.

Jay returned to the nursery, pulling a chair close to the crib. He watched your son, his tiny body fighting against the illness. Jay reached into the crib, gently touching the baby’s hand, feeling the warmth and life. He settled in for the night, his eyes never leaving the crib, determined to be the rock you needed him to be.

Hours passed, and Jay remained vigilant. He listened to every breath, every tiny movement, ready to act at a moment’s notice. His mind was a quiet storm of prayers and hopes, willing your baby to get better.

As dawn broke, the first light of morning seeped into the room. Jay was exhausted but resolute, still watching over your child with unwavering devotion. He glanced back towards your bedroom, knowing you would wake soon, needing reassurance and news. He was ready to be your strength, just as he had promised.

Please don't steal or copy , thank you

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redroomreflections · 22 days ago

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What's Good For The Heart

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

A Family of Her Own Series

7/9

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 6k

Summary: After the fall of the Avengers, Natasha Romanoff returns home to her secret family—a life she's carefully hidden away for years. Struggling to balance her role as a mother and wife while avoiding the dangers of her past, Natasha is forced to make difficult decisions that impact her loved ones.

This Chapter: R returns to New York and gets a visit from Ross.

Flying always made you feel a bit restless. As you sat back in the plush leather seat, rubbing your temple, you sighed, thinking about the coming days. The hum of the engines, the slight turbulence—everything seemed more pronounced now that you were alone. Without Natasha or the kids to keep your mind distracted, the anxiety simmered just beneath the surface, creeping into every quiet moment.

Your eyes drifted over to Ricky Mason, who sat across from you, tapping away on his tablet. He wasn’t as talkative by any means, which you were grateful for, but even in his silence, you could pick up on something. A glance here, a subtle shift there. It wasn’t bold or overt, but you could read people well enough to know Ricky's admiration for Natasha went beyond simple friendship. He'd been utterly dumbfounded to know you existed and that you and Natasha were married.

“So,” He said finally, breaking the quiet, “I’ve gotta say, getting this whole thing set up… fake flight logs, the new identities—it’s pretty impressive, even for me.”

You hummed in response, half-listening as you gazed out the window, watching the clouds drift by. "You've outdone yourself," you replied absently, not really in the mood for small talk.

He chuckled, shifting in his seat as if he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure how. "You know... Romanoff’s a hell of a woman," he added, his tone casual but not quite neutral.

That caught your attention. You glanced over at him, studying his face, the way he avoided looking directly at you now. "Yeah, she is," you replied evenly, not giving much away.

Ricky cleared his throat, pretending to focus on his tablet again, but you could sense the undercurrent in his words. He wasn’t being bold, not openly flirting, but there was something in the way he brought her up. A hint of admiration that went beyond simple respect for her skills.

"I mean, not to get personal or anything," he continued, his voice carefully measured now, "but it’s impressive. Everything she’s done. Everything you’ve both managed to pull off." He gave a small, nervous laugh, his bravado dimmed just enough to make you notice. "Takes a special kind of person to handle all of that."

You leaned back in your seat, keeping your gaze on him. "It does," you said, your tone soft but pointed. "And she’s a lot more than what people think."

Ricky nodded, perhaps sensing that he’d treaded into sensitive territory. "No doubt," he replied quickly, his eyes darting away again. He seemed to catch himself before going any further, shifting the conversation back to logistics. "So, we’ll be touching down in Jersey soon. I’ll make sure the rental car is ready when you land."

"Good," You said, letting the tension ease out of your shoulders. You didn’t need to make a scene, but you wanted to be sure he understood the unspoken boundary. Ricky wasn’t dumb, and he probably felt the shift in the air.

The rest of the flight passed in relative silence, with only the hum of the engines and the occasional click of Ricky’s tablet filling the cabin. You tried to focus on the plan ahead—getting to your old apartment in Jersey, preparing for the next steps—but your thoughts kept drifting back to Natasha and the kids. You pictured them on their way to the Lake District, hidden away in the quiet beauty of the English countryside.

Natasha would be in disguise, of course, her dark wig and brown contacts making her almost unrecognizable. Stella would be chattering non-stop about sharks, and Nicky, ever serious, would be watching everything with wide, curious eyes. It comforted you to know they’d be safe, at least for a while. But the weight of Ross’s ultimatum hung over you, pressing against the fragile peace you had tried to build for your family.

Soon, you’d be back in New Jersey, driving to Brooklyn, New York, to the old apartment you still kept as a backup. It felt strange, being separated from Natasha and the kids, but you knew it was necessary. You’d regroup soon, and until then, you had to trust that Natasha could keep them hidden.

"Landing soon," Ricky said, breaking the quiet again as he checked his watch. "You ready?"

You nodded, forcing a small smile. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

*********

The familiar scent of dust and stale air hit you as you stepped into the lobby of your old apartment building. The place felt both foreign and strangely comforting. You took a moment to absorb your surroundings, noting the brand-new carpet, the fluorescent overhead lights, and the chipped paint on the walls. You could feel the weight of time pressing down as you walked towards the elevator, your suitcase dragging behind you. Your mind was racing with thoughts of Natasha and the kids, imagining them nestled safely in the Lake District while you braced for whatever Ross had planned. You had spotted the strategically placed black SUVs parked outside, and a couple of suited men standing in the lobby, their eyes scanning the room like hawks. You turned with a look over your shoulders to see Ross sitting, sifting through a magazine, as if he'd been here before.

You stepped over to him with a frown. “Ah, you’re home,” he said nonchalantly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“I don’t need a welcome committee,” You shot back, crossing your arms over your shoulders. “Nice job tailing me from the airport. Stalking is a new low for you.”

Ross set the magazine down, a smirk playing on his lips. “You know, I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t hiding Natasha. You’ve got a lot of connections. It’s no wonder you managed to evade us for so long.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling annoyance flare within you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I've been right here this whole time."

“Is that so?” Ross leaned back in his chair, feigning casual interest. "So, what have you been up to then? Any good stories?"

"No, and even if there were, I wouldn't tell you."

"Well, I suppose we can catch up later," Ross said, his tone growing more serious. "Does your wife have anything to do with the underwater prison being broken into? I'm missing a few fugitives."

"Underwater prison?" You repeated, keeping your voice steady. "What are you talking about? Is that ethical?"

"Oh, please," Ross replied, rolling his eyes. "We both know who you're protecting. Don't play dumb. Coming from seeing her?"

“I’m flying home from seeing a family friend who’s sick,” You replied, trying to sound convincing while suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. You knew he’d probably try to verify your story, but you were counting on his arrogance. “If you want to waste your time interrogating me, fine. But I don’t have any information for you.”

“Really? You expect me to believe you don’t know where she is? The way you’ve been so careful, it’s obvious you’re hiding something.” Ross’s tone shifted slightly, the menace lurking beneath his words bubbling to the surface.

"Hmm," You tilted your head. "You're grasping at straws."

Ross let out a dry laugh, irritation flashing across his face. “You know, it’s funny. I would’ve expected you to be smarter. You can’t keep hiding her forever. If you don’t cooperate, you’ll go down with her.”

“So, you gave me a week to what? Come and threaten me in person?” You crossed your arms defiantly, refusing to let his intimidation tactics rattle you.

“No, not really. I came to give you a warning,” Ross replied, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “You can either turn over the location of your wife or face the consequences. Do you think she would be happy if you did time for her?”

“Is that your big threat? Jail time?” You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Because if that’s all you’ve got, Ross, then you really are losing your touch. I know exactly what she would want me to do, and it wouldn’t involve betraying her.”

Ross’s expression darkened, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “You’re playing a dangerous game, y/n.”

“And you’re still failing to realize just how far I’m willing to go to protect myself. You think you can intimidate me? You think you can scare me? You’re mistaken,” You shot back, your voice steady and confident.

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, a vein twitching at his temple. “You don’t know what you’re up against. You’re just a pawn in a game far bigger than you can comprehend.”

“Maybe,” you said, leaning closer, matching his intensity. “But I’m not the one who’s seething with frustration because I can’t find my target. How does that feel, Ross? To be outmaneuvered by someone you underestimated?” You could see the anger boiling in his expression, the way his hands clenched into fists.

Ross glared at you, seething, but you pressed on. “Every second you waste on me is a second closer to you losing your grip. I may not know where Natasha is, but I know how to keep you off balance. You're here because you’re afraid of what might happen if you push too hard. I’ve got everything to lose, and you’re just a cog in the machine.”

“You’ll regret this,” he spat, his voice low and threatening.

“No, Ross, I think you will,” you said, your gaze unwavering. “You’ve already lost, and the more you pursue this, the worse it’s going to get for you. You’re not just after Natasha; you’re threatening her family. That’s a game you’ll never win.”

You turned away from him, leaving him with nothing but his seething anger and the echo of your words hanging in the air. You had taken the upper hand, and for now, that was enough to give you a bit of hope in this twisted game. You finally took a deep breath as you stepped into the apartment you hadn't been in years.

Your footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as you moved further into the apartment. The familiar scent of dust and stale air drifted around you, mixing with the lingering scent of old books and lavender. You'd asked the housekeeper, courtesy of your own connections, to light candles and make it smell as lived-in as possible. As you moved further into the room, the sunlight streaming through the windows cast long shadows on the floor, and the memories came flooding back.

The apartment was smaller than the one you'd shared with Natasha, but the space was still comfortable and well-appointed. You could remember the first time you'd brought Natasha here, the way her eyes had widened as she took in the view of the city from the living room windows. She'd looked at you with a soft smile, the warmth in her gaze taking your breath away. It had been a simpler time then, before the chaos of the Avengers, the Accords, and all the pain and suffering that followed.

You moved further into the apartment, glancing around at the sparsely furnished rooms. A small kitchen with a worn countertop, a living room with a single sofa, and a bedroom with a queen-sized bed. The furniture was basic, and the only real decoration was a vase of flowers on the kitchen table. It was a far cry from the luxury of your home in Missouri or even Versailles but it would do for now. You just needed to spend a week here and things would blow over.

You dropped your bag on the floor and moved to the bedroom, flopping down on the mattress. The bed was firm and the sheets were clean, which was all that mattered. You closed your eyes, letting out a long sigh. The past few days had been a whirlwind, and it was finally catching up to you. The weight of the situation was sinking in, and you could feel the tension mounting.

You lay there for a moment, taking stock of everything. Thoughts of Ross crept back into your mind, that encounter still fresh. You could still see the way he had leaned forward, his anger barely contained. You’d managed to hold your ground, but the threats loomed heavy over you like a storm cloud. The thought of him lurking around, watching your every move, made your skin crawl. You didn’t want to think about what might happen if he managed to uncover Natasha's location.

You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling, forcing yourself to breathe deeply. You reminded yourself that Natasha was safe for now, tucked away in the Lake District with the kids. As long as you could keep Ross off their trail, they’d remain untouched. That was your priority, and it had to be enough to keep you focused.

You pushed yourself off the bed and walked back into the living room, taking a moment to assess your surroundings. You needed to make this place feel like home, at least for the time being. You moved to the kitchen, rifling through the cupboards to see what you could find. It was mostly empty, but a few essentials remained—some instant coffee, a box of cereal, and a half-empty jar of peanut butter.

With a shrug, you grabbed the coffee, thankful for even that small comfort. As you prepared the drink, the familiar aroma began to fill the air. You went through every nook and cranny of the apartment to ensure it wasn't bugged. The last thing you needed was Ross listening in on your conversations. When that was done, you settled down on the couch, cradling the warm mug in your hands. You let your mind wander, trying to process everything that had happened. The Accords had turned heroes into targets, painting them with a broad picture of distrust. What did this mean for Natasha? Would she be forced into hiding for good? You could picture her, always the fighter, her fiery spirit undiminished, but the constant pressure of being hunted was a different kind of battle.

The thought of her being pursued simply existing as herself—an agent, a devoted mother, and your wife—made your heartache. She had always been so committed to her beliefs and her teammates, but now that loyalty had come with a price. The idea of being forced to choose between her family and her duty as an Avenger gnawed at you.

Would she even want to return to that life? The thrill of being an Avenger seemed to dim when it came to family safety. You could imagine Natasha standing at that crossroads, the weight of her choices pressing down on her.

As you sipped your coffee, you wondered about the future. The world seemed to be changing around you, shifting like unstable ground. You hoped you would find a way to navigate this storm, but the unpredictability of it all was unsettling. You thought about the time you spent together, the laughter and love that filled your shared moments. Would you still be able to create that kind of life with all this looming over you?

Your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glanced down to see a message from Natasha, and a wave of relief washed over you. You opened it eagerly, wanting to hear what she had to say.

Hey love, just checking in. We’re settling in nicely. Stella is already asking about the sheep! How's everything?

You smiled at the message, imagining Natasha sitting in the peaceful surroundings of the Lake District. Everything's fine, just got settled in. Ross showed up at the apartment, but I managed to handle him. Keeping an eye on things, don’t worry.

A few minutes later, a new message popped up. That bastard, I can't believe he tracked you down.

I'm surprised he hasn't shown up at the lake house yet, you joked, trying to keep the tone light.

You're right, he must be losing his touch. Or I'm a really great spy.

You chuckled, the brief moment of levity feeling welcome. So, how are the kids doing?

They're excited. Stella says it feels like home. Btw the number of tantrums she's had in the span of two days has been baffling.

Ah, I miss them and you already, you typed, the longing for your family bubbling to the surface.

I miss you too, Natasha replied, and you could hear the sincerity in her voice.

You bit your lip, knowing you probably shouldn't but pressing the call button anyway. She answered on the first ring. "Hey, y/n," Natasha's voice was warm and soft, like a gentle caress.

"Hi," you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. "I needed to hear your voice."

"I'm glad you called," Natasha replied, a hint of playfulness in her tone. "I was just thinking about you."

"Oh?" You teased, "What were you thinking?"

"Hmm," she hummed, and you could practically hear the smirk on her lips. "Just about how much I missed you, and how I wish we were curled up together."

You sighed softly, leaning back on the couch, "Me too."

There was a brief pause, the tension crackling in the air between you.

"How are you feeling?" Natasha asked. "You just got off a long flight."

"I'm fine," You breathed. "My breasts feel incredibly full. I should pump soon. I hope what I left is enough for Nicky."

"I'll make sure it's enough," Natasha reassured. "He's doing well too. Just a little teething."

"That's good," You nodded even though she couldn't see you. "So, you get to see Stella's tantrums live and up close."

"They're impressive," Natasha chuckled. "She's a bit like me in that regard."

"Oh?" Your eyes widened in surprise. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you admitted to being a brat."

"Hey," She said, her tone indignant. "I can admit when I'm being a brat."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Okay, fine. I can't wait to see it myself."

"Don't worry," Natasha assured a note of mischief in her voice. "We'll put on a good show for you. Seriously though what do you do when she's misbehaving?"

"I spank her," You replied.

There's a pause on the phone where you can tell Natasha is trying to process whether or not you're being serious.

"Oh my God," You couldn't help but laugh. "Natasha, I'm joking."

"Oh," She breathed, the relief evident in her voice. "I didn't know. I thought maybe you changed your mind on corporal punishment."

"Nope, she's not quite there yet," You chuckled. "But she does a good job of getting you there. I miss her."

"She misses you too," Natasha sighed, a hint of sadness creeping into her voice. "This is my first time truly being alone with them since they were babies. I'm learning so much."

"Well, we have all the time in the world to learn more," You smiled. "I'm proud of you, Nat. I know it's hard, but you're doing great."

"Thanks," She replied, a warmth in her voice. "I'll make sure the kids are taken care of. Until this blows over and we figure out something."

"I know," You said softly. "We're in this together."

"I should go," Natasha sighed. "The kids are asleep, but I'll call again later, okay?"

"Okay," You agreed. "Be safe, Nat."

"I will," She promised.

You ended the call, and you were left alone in the silence of the apartment. You took a deep breath, your mind wandering to all of the things you could do this week. It's been a year since you've been back in New York. The last time was a booty call for Natasha when she'd been craving your presence. You'd left the kids with Clint and Laura who only lived four hours away at the time.

It felt weird to be back now. You wondered what you'd even do, but the idea of being here, close to the people you cared about, was comforting.

You pushed yourself off the couch and started unpacking, putting your clothes away, and setting up the spare room.

*****

Lunch with Maria Hill was refreshing. She sat in front of you, her hair pulled back in a sleek bun, her blue eyes looking at you with concern. When she sat down in front of you, it was like she noticed every single subtle detail about you that changed. Then she asked you questions as if she was gauging your state of mind. You told her a lot, more than you probably should have. But Maria was trustworthy and had always been a good listener.

“You’ve gotten good at picking these low-profile spots, almost like you’re still in the game,” She teased.

"Well, some habits die hard, I guess," You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips. "And it's easier when you're not the target. Although, it doesn't stop me from feeling like a fugitive."

"That's the life of a wanted woman," Maria replied, her tone half-serious.

"Yeah," You sighed, resting your elbows on the table and leaning forward. “Even if I’m not the one being hunted.”

“I’ve heard the underwater raft went belly up a couple weeks ago,” Maria sipped from her mugs. Her eyes flashed around the room subtly.

“You knew about that?” You asked. “Am I the only one that thinks that’s a cruel prison?”

"Yeah, I don't disagree. I think a lot of things have happened that I can't control," Maria admitted. "The only thing I can control is being there for you. We may not have been in contact for years but we're still family.”

"I know, and I appreciate that. But if I'm being honest, this isn't exactly the welcome I was expecting."

"Well, things have gotten complicated," Maria said with a sigh. “Look, I don’t care what Ross or the general public thinks. I think those Accords are bullshit. But… I don’t like being kept in the dark either.”

“You mean Nick Fury doesn’t keep tabs on us after all?” You joked.

Maria chuckled, shaking her head. "He can try, but I'm the best at keeping secrets."

"Well, we can keep each other updated then," You offered. "I want to make sure my family is safe."

"Of course," Maria nodded. "So, Ross showed up, huh? Is he giving you a hard time?"

"He's trying," You huffed. "But I'm not about to roll over and play dead. This isn't the first time we've gone head-to-head. I think he's starting to realize just how far I'll go."

"Damn, you're tough," Maria chuckled.

"Well, I learned from the best," You smirked.

"You certainly did," She smiled.

"So, what are you doing these days?" You asked.

"I'm still with the U.S. Air Force for the time being. My role has shifted a little bit, but I'm still working to keep the world safe," Maria said. “Working with Stark whenever I have free time.”

"Oh, yeah? Any plans for a vacation?"

"Not really, but if you're offering, I'm sure we can figure something out," She winked. “There’s something different about you. A glow.” She mused.

You blushed slightly, shaking your head. "I think it's just the sunlight."

"Nah, it's not that," Maria grinned. "It's nice, whatever it is. Don’t tell me you’re pregnant?”

"That would be perfect timing. Wouldn’t it ?” You chuckled. “I’m not pregnant and don’t plan to be.”

"That's a shame, I think you'd make a good mother," Maria said. "But I respect your decision."

"Thanks, I appreciate that. So, how's Fury?" You asked, curious to know if she was still in touch with him.

"He's good, still the same old Nick," Maria said. "He's a busy guy, but we keep in touch. I think he's worried about you, actually."

"Me? Why would he be worried?"

"Because you're important to him," Maria shrugged. "He may not show it, but he cares."

"I'm not that important, and neither is Natasha," You said, a hint of sadness creeping into your voice. "If anything, she should be the one he's worried about."

"Look, y/n, I know he doesn't have the best track record with being upfront about everything, but he does care. And he'll always look out for those he considers family," Maria said.

"Family," You murmured. "Yeah, I guess we are."

"And even if he didn't show it, he'd always look out for you and Nat," She assured. "Just give him a chance."

"I will," You nodded.

You finished the rest of your lunch and made plans to meet again. You were glad to have Maria in your corner, especially during this chaotic time.

After parting ways, you found yourself wandering the streets, taking in the familiar sights and sounds. New York City was alive, the hustle and bustle a stark contrast to the quiet countryside of your home.

As you walked, the familiar faces and landmarks began to fade into the background. Instead, thoughts of the past began to creep in, memories you'd buried long ago resurfacing.

You thought about the times you'd spent here with Natasha. The early years of your marriage, when everything seemed new and exciting. You could remember the way her eyes would light up as she recounted her latest adventure or the way her laugh would fill the air with warmth. You missed that, the easy way you'd connected with each other, the way your bond had been so effortless.

You could see her, standing on the edge of a rooftop, the wind whipping her hair, her gaze locked on yours. That was the moment you'd fallen in love with her. She'd been so confident, so sure of herself, and yet there had been a vulnerability to her. She'd looked at you like no one else had before, her expression full of longing and hope. It was the beginning of something, a spark that would turn into a flame, a desire that would grow stronger with every passing day.

You could still feel the way your heart had raced as you'd stepped closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She'd been so beautiful, so magnetic, that you'd been helpless to resist her pull. She'd kissed you then, her lips soft and sweet, and it was like everything had fallen into place. You'd known, in that moment, that this was the beginning of something special.

Now, as you wandered the streets, your memories faded and the present returned. The noise and chaos of the city was overwhelming, but you pushed through it.

******

On the other side of the world, Natasha is just finishing up clearing the dinner dishes. The kitchen is small but cozy, sunlight streaming in through the windows. Nicky is glued to her hip, babbling about something in toddler-speak, while Stella is dangling from the couch, engrossed in Peppa Pig on the television.

It's been a quiet day, and she’s was ready to turn in from the night but the calm atmosphere is interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Natasha looked over, frowning as she made her way towards the door. She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t say a word. She simply eyed the person through the peephole. When she spots familiar brown hair, she unlocks it.

“You’re awake,” Wanda greets.

Natasha smiles.

Wanda stood there with a backpack, looking a bit nervous.

"Hi," Natasha stepped aside. "Come in."

"Sorry, I didn't call," Wanda said sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it," She shrugged. “I just finished up dinner.”

"Oh, I'm fine," Wanda shook her head. "I ate at the station."

"Well, there's leftovers," Natasha said. "So, if you get hungry.

“Thank you,” Wanda nodded.

Natasha turned towards the living room, raising her voice.

"Stella, Wanda is here," She said, gesturing to the girl behind her.

Stella glanced up from the TV, her eyes widening as she spotted the new arrival. Her grin stretched wide as she bounced over to Wanda, her little curls bouncing with each step. She barely paused before raising her arms in silent invitation. Without missing a beat, Wanda scooped her up, holding her close as she’d done a thousand times before.

“Hi, Wanda,” Stella said, her eyes shining.

“Hi,” Wanda replied softly, a smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes lit up with genuine warmth as she held the little girl in her arms.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the air between them surprisingly comfortable. Then, in that serious way only a three-year-old could manage, Stella tilted her head and asked, “Wanda, are you okay now?”

Natasha's breath caught. Stella’s ability to sense things had always surprised her, and this was no exception. She exchanged a glance with Wanda, who looked both startled and touched by the child’s question.

“Yes, I am,” Wanda said gently, her voice just above a whisper. “Thanks for asking.”

Stella’s serious expression melted into a bright smile, and she gave Wanda a small pat on the shoulder. “I’m glad,” she said, her voice full of sincerity. As if Wanda's well-being was the only thing in the world that mattered to her.

Wanda’s gaze shifted to Natasha, the question in her eyes clear without her needing to speak it. How does she know?

Natasha shrugged a faint smile on her lips. “She picks up on things,” she guessed quietly. Stella had always been sensitive, attuned to emotions in a way Natasha couldn’t quite explain. It made her both proud and protective.

“Mama,” Stella piped up, breaking the silent exchange between the two women, “can I play?”

Natasha smiled at her daughter, grateful for how children could easily shift between the serious and the simple. “Yes, you can.”

Without hesitation, Stella wiggled out of Wanda’s arms and ran over to the pile of toys scattered across the living room floor, already chattering to Wanda about which ones she’d play with first.

Natasha watched her for a moment before turning back to Wanda, whose gaze was still fixed on the little girl. There was something soft in Wanda’s expression, a kind of wonder Natasha hadn’t seen in her for a long time. It tugged at something deep in her chest, a feeling that was part relief and part nostalgia.

The sound of Wanda's voice snapped Natasha back to the present.

"Sorry for not calling, I just wanted to check on you," Wanda apologized.

"It's fine," Natasha assured. "I want to make sure you're safe too."

"Thanks," She nodded. "Where's y/n?"

"In New York," She gestured for Wanda to follow her into the kitchen away from prying eyes. She placed Nicky into his high chair, silently cheering when he didn't protest. "Hoping to show her face and throw Ross off a little bit."

"I can't believe he tracked her down," Wanda huffed, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, well, he's relentless. And stupid," Natasha muttered.

"True," Wanda agreed. "Is this all because of me? Right, what I did? He really wants me."

"It's not just because of what you did, Wanda. It's what we did," Natasha corrected. "It's a combination of things, really. He's just trying to regain some power. But don't worry, y/n can handle him."

"I'm not worried about y/n, I'm worried about her," Wanda gestured towards the living room where Stella is still playing. "What if he finds out about them?"

"He won't," Natasha promised. "And even if he does, we'll figure it out. We will have a plan. We always do."

Wanda's expression relaxed a bit, her posture visibly loosening. "You and y/n make me feel like a person."

"Well, you're always welcome here," Natasha said softly. "Or wherever we are in the world."

Wanda gave her a warm smile before changing the subject. "So, how are things going?"

"We're doing alright," Natasha sighed, her gaze falling to the floor. "I know the moving around gets to her a little. It's complicated."

"Of course, I understand. You just need to lay low until this all blows over," Wanda nodded.

"Exactly," Natasha agreed. "I've gotten used to it. I mean, I've been running my entire life, but this is different."

"It is," Wanda agreed. "But you're not alone. We're here for you."

"Thank you," Natasha breathed. "It means a lot. How long are you here for?"

"Just the night," Wanda licked her lips. "I plan to meet back up with Vision."

"Vision?" Natasha smirked, arching an eyebrow.

Wanda blushed. "He's my partner. Is that weird? Since he's kind of older?"

"Well, he's a robot for one. Two, is it romantic or is it..."

"I'm not sure," Wanda shrugged. "There's definitely a connection there. We're friends, but we're more than that too. I'm not sure where it will lead, but I'm curious."

"That's a good place to start," Natasha hummed.

"He's different," Wanda sighed. "He doesn't know how to be a person, but he's trying. It's nice."

"You're a good teacher," Natasha smiled. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I will," Wanda promised.

Natasha nodded, her gaze drifting towards the living room, where Stella was carrying a bunch of her toys to bring to Wanda.

"Wanda, look at what I found," She said proudly, holding out the toy for inspection.

"That's a nice frog," Wanda complimented, a grin stretching across her lips.

"It's a turtle," Stella corrected a hint of mischief in her tone. "His paint has just come off a little bit."

"My mistake," Wanda laughed.

"Come on," Stella tugged on Wanda's hand, leading her to the couch. "We're playing dress up."

Natasha sat back in her chair, a soft smile tugging at her lips. She couldn't wait for you to come home.

The next morning, Wanda is on her way, leaving Natasha with a hug that would last for a while.

"Call if you need anything," She said. "I'll try and keep my ears open."

"Thank you," Natasha sighed.

Wanda smiled, her gaze lingering on the kids before she turned and walked away.

"Wanda," Natasha called out. "Be careful. Stay close. "

"I will," Wanda promised.

Natasha closed the door, watching as the redhead left the home. She needed you to be home.

***********

The house was silent when you pushed open the front door, your movements careful and quiet. You stepped inside, half-expecting to hear the usual sounds of chaos that accompanied a house with two small children—Stella’s giggles or Nicky’s babbling. But tonight, there was nothing but the soft hum of the wind outside.

You tiptoed through the living room, your eyes scanning for any sign of life, but it seemed like the house was asleep. Your heart warmed at the thought—they must have had a busy day. As you made your way toward the bedroom, you paused at the door, gently pushing it open.

There, sprawled across the bed, was Natasha. Nicky lay curled against her side in nothing but a diaper, his tiny fists clutching onto her shirt as if she were his anchor. Stella was draped across Natasha’s chest, wearing a too-small sleep dress that barely reached her knees, and only one sock clung to her foot. Her curls were a wild mess around her face, and every now and then, she would let out a soft, contented sigh in her sleep.

You smiled at the sight, taking a moment to appreciate how peaceful they all looked. You leaned against the doorway, taking in the scene. It was so different from when they were babies when their days were spent crying and needing to be fed or changed. Now, they were growing into their own personalities, their needs shifting to accommodate those personalities.

Your heart swelled with love as you watched them sleep, knowing that no matter how much the world changed, your family would remain constant.

You quietly made your way into the room, careful not to disturb the sleeping pair. As you leaned over to kiss Nicky's forehead, the floorboard creaked under your feet, causing him to stir slightly.

"Mama," He whined.

"Shh," You whispered, scooping him into your arms. Natasha woke at the sudden change of weight.

"Oh, you're back," She murmured.

"Hey, sleepyhead," You grinned. "Did you have a busy day?"

"Yeah," She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Wrangling toddlers is way harder than fighting evil."

"You're telling me," You bounced Nicky in your arms. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Natasha admitted, her voice low.

"Why don't you go back to sleep," You suggested. "I'll be here."

"Okay," Natasha closed her eyes again, the stress of the day catching up to her. "Y/n?"

"Yes?"

"Welcome home."

You smiled.

"It's good to be back."

---> next part

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you #afamilyofherownau

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sissyisawitch · 11 months ago

Text

Christmas at Home

Part 2 of I'll Be Home For Christmas (link)

Relationship: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Summary: Ten years later, MC has a home, a family, and a husband. What does a traditional Christmas look like for her now?

Word Count: ~6.4k

Warnings: Tooth rotting Christmas fluff 🎅🎄

Author's Note: Requested by @mochiglow . Plus I wanted to write one last Christmas story before the end of the year (yes, once again, I had to rush to get the story out in time). As always, I hope you'll enjoy it! And I wish you lots of love for the year ahead💕

The room was shrouded in the soft glow of dawn, and MC found herself caught in the liminal space between sleep and wakefulness. Tossing and turning, her mind danced on the edge of dreams and reality, a swirl of thoughts and anxieties tugging at her subconscious. The weight of the night seemed to lift when, in that vulnerable moment, she inhaled a familiar scent that wrapped around her like a comforting embrace—Sebastian’s scent.

MC's senses gradually anchored to the reassuring fragrance that enveloped her. With a sigh, she opened her eyes to be met with her husband's naked torso. She had been waking up to the same sight for ten years to the day, ever since that memorable Christmas when they had met by sheer happenstance, and ended up confessing their feelings for each other. After leaving Anne and Ominis's house after dinner, MC had gone back to sleep at Sebastian's house in Hogsmeade, and that time, they had slept together in the same bed. From that day on, the two lovebirds had never left each other's side. MC had immediately moved in with Sebastian, having nowhere else to go after leading a nomadic and adventurous life. Sebastian had supported her every step of the way, helping her to find a job and to buy more possessions than what was in her suitcase (because she did in fact travel light).

In short, Sebastian had been the most incredible boyfriend, the most loving and patient partner, as well as the most reliable and unconditional support.

Thank Merlin he had been there to help MC get used to her new life of routine, because it had not been easy every day. Still, she was grateful to have overcome all these trials and tribulations, and especially to have done so alongside Sebastian, because it had brought her to the present moment. For ten years, she had had the privilege of waking up surrounded by the strong arms of the man she cherished more than anything else in the world, and witnessing the marks of time embedding into him: how his beard was fuller than before, how the patch of hair on his chest had widened and darkened, how his shoulders had broadened. But if there was one thing that remained unchanged, it was how madly in love Sebastian was with MC, and how he never failed to prove it to her.

Drawing solace from the gentle rise and fall of his chest, MC shifted closer to him – if that was even possible – seeking even more contact with his warmth, which, as always, miraculously succeeded in making all her nervousness vanish.

As if attuned to her restlessness, Sebastian stirred awake and instinctively tightened his hold around her petite figure.

“You’re up early.” Sebastian said with his husky morning voice, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

“I didn't sleep very well.” MC admitted while bringing her hands up to rest on his chest.

He placed a delicate kiss to her forehead, before looking at her, his gaze tender and filled with a quiet understanding, “I know you. You're stressing about today because you want everything to be perfect.”

“That must be it, yes…” She replied absently, mindlessly tracing the freckles that adorned his collarbones.

MC was not sure how, but the whole family had decided that for the first time, the Christmas festivities would be held at MC and Sebastian's house, instead of at Anne and Ominis' in Feldcroft as in all the other years.

“You don't have to worry, you know. We're not asking you to make a big feast. Besides, whatever you prepare, I know it'll be brilliant.” Sebastian continued to try and reassure her, still flashing his radiant smile.

MC made no response. Instead, she preferred to nestle her head in the crook of his neck and place tender kisses along his skin, moving her lips as slowly as possible to fully appreciate the taste of him. Fortunately, Sebastian did not question why his wife was being particularly cuddly this morning. He simply tightened his grip on her waist, his fingers digging into her flesh through her satin nightdress, while his other hand moved down her thigh to trace invisible shapes and caress her skin.

“I love you, Sebastian.” She declared all too solemnly.

He chuckled at her confession, which came out of nowhere, but which he never tired of hearing, “I love you too, darling.”

After all these years together, Sebastian still marvelled at how the soft contours of their bodies moulded perfectly into one another, as if they had truly been made for each other down to the very last detail. Limbs entwined and hearts beating in unison, they both revelled in each other's quiet, yet soothing presence… That was until Sebastian could no longer resist his ardour.

With two fingers under her chin, he tilted MC's face until their eyes met. Without wasting a second, Sebastian claimed her plump lips, kissing her languorously, all the while taking his time, as if he were discovering her for the first time. The way he sucked and nibbled her lips with fervour made MC realise that he was hungry for more than just breakfast.

MC let out several keen moans, which fuelled Sebastian's passion. He could not stop running his hands over every inch of her body, his electric touch setting her skin on fire. Sebastian's next move would have been to roll on top of his wife to pin her to the mattress... if only he had not been stopped short by the creak of their bedroom door being opened, followed by the patter of little feet.

Sebastian let out a deep growl and fell back onto his side of the bed, while MC giggled at his reaction.

"Mummy! Daddy! Wake up, it's Christmas!" Their son, Theodore, exclaimed with uncontainable excitement, like a burst of energy dispelling the lingering tranquillity. Sebastian and MC, still wrapped in the warmth of each other, exchanged a fond smile.

Oblivious to the interrupted moment, the five-year-old clambered onto the bed with a gleeful grin, and squeezed himself between his parents, joining their intertwined embrace.

“I can't wait for Father Christmas to come! I told him I want a big dragon this year!” Their son's voice bubbled with the magic of the holiday.

MC exchanged a glance with Sebastian, amused by their son's earnest Christmas wish, "A dragon, huh?" She teased. "That's a pretty big request, Theo. Are you sure you have enough space for a dragon in your room?"

Theo’s eyes narrowed as he contemplated the logistics, "Well, maybe a baby dragon? They're smaller, right?"

Sebastian chuckled, "We'll see what Santa can do, buddy.”

“Can we send him a letter to ask him to come sooner?” Theo asked eagerly.

Sebastian ruffled his son's unruly chestnut hair – the same one as him, “Easy there, little elf. You know he only comes once the whole family is together. Otherwise, it wouldn't be fair on Aunt Anne and Uncle Ominis. They wanna see him too.”

The child pouted, understanding his father's answer, but clearly dissatisfied with it all the same.

MC took her child in her arms and stood up, "Come on, young man. Let's get out of bed, and eat breakfast first. Then we’ll get ready, and I promise you won’t see time go by."

The family descended the stairs into the living room, which was bathed in Christmas atmosphere, with the tremendous tree shining brightly, the stockings hanging on the mantelpiece, and the dining table adorned with festive decorations, ready to welcome guests for a feast.

Luckily for MC, Theo was a real glutton like his father, so it was not difficult to convince him to eat. Nevertheless, like his mother this time, he was a real chatterbox. While they were all eating, Theo could not stop talking about the potential presents he was going to get. Overwhelmed with excitement, he kept chattering away, often with his mouth full, and MC had to remind him several times that this was impolite.

After breakfast, the family retreated to their respective corners of the house to get dressed in their festive best for the special occasion. Sebastian, who had quickly put on his outfit, went to help his son put on his Christmas attire which consisted of a green tartan shirt, red trousers with braces and a matching bow tie.

Meanwhile, MC put on a little make-up and slipped on her black velvet dress which had a V-neckline bordered by lace that matched the one decorating the cuffs of its long sleeves. The bust was fitted at the waist, and the skirt was flowing but still close enough to the body to outline the graceful curves of MC's body.

Sebastian appeared suddenly, and hugged MC from behind, making her jump slightly, “You’re gorgeous as always, my love. You never fail to take my breath away.”

MC turned around to take a look at him, clad in black trousers and shirt, with only a forest green tie for a touch of colour. It was rather simple but it always seemed to do the trick to make MC weak in the knees. Especially when he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, showing off his strong forearms, with freckles scattered among the hair, and veins bulging out of his tanned skin.

She devoured him with her eyes, a smirk plastered on her lips, “Thank you. You’re quite handsome yourself, you know.”

His hands started from between her shoulder blades, then travelled down her body, exploring the small of her back, the curves of her hips, until they landed on the soft pulp of her ass. He let out a throaty growl, “Merlin, I never get tired of this dress. I love the way it shows off your hips. Makes me wanna rip it right off to see the real deal underneath.”

Ashamed that he still managed to make her blush like a shy schoolgirl after so many years of marriage, MC pushed him away and turned her head to hide the scarlet tint in her cheekbones, “Keep your hands to yourself, Mister.”

“Oh, come on, you’re no fun. Let's just carry on with what we started earlier, while we can.” Sebastian whimpered as he tried to catch her.

Any protestations about having a lot on her plate and a meal to prepare, died on the tip of MC's tongue, as Sebastian snaked his hands around her waist, tracing his fingers down to her private parts. Even through her layers of clothing, his experienced touch was enough to ignite a passionate fire that warmed her core.

It would have been fun to keep going... if only they had not been interrupted by a sudden piercing scream coming from the living room.

Fear gripped both MC and Sebastian’s hearts as they raced downstairs, the staircase resounding with the loud thump of their hurried footsteps. The living room came into view, and their eyes immediately sought out their son, dreading that something had happened to him.

To their relief, he stood near the window, his face pressed against the glass, and his excitement turned the initial scream into joyful laughter, "Mummy, Daddy, look! It's snowing! It's really snowing!" He exclaimed, pointing at the delicate flakes dancing in the winter air.

Relief washed over MC and Sebastian when they saw that nothing serious had happened. However, their respite was short-lived, because the next moment, Theo was throwing a tantrum to be allowed to play outside.

Unable to resist his son's demands and desires, Sebastian, bundled up in a warm winter coat, led Theo out into the garden where a pristine blanket of snow awaited. Laughter echoed through the quiet air as father and son dove into the wintry playground, crafting a snowman with gleeful enthusiasm. The garden became a canvas for their snowy adventures, a scene of joyous bonding and shared laughter.

From the cozy warmth of the kitchen, MC observed the heartwarming spectacle unfolding outside. As she chopped vegetables and tended to the simmering pots, her gaze lingered on the snowy tableau framed by the window. The sight of Sebastian and Theo engaged in a spirited snowball fight filled her with gratitude. She marvelled at the twists of fate that had brought them here, realizing that, had they not moved in this house in Marunweem, this idyllic scene might have remained an unfulfilled wish.

MC and Sebastian's Hogsmeade cottage had rapidly become too cramped when ideas of marriage and children began to blossom in their minds. So, two Christmases later, Sebastian surprised MC with the house of her dreams in the hamlet of Marunweem. That evening, after showing her around the first floor with its many bedrooms that would accommodate possible guests or their future children, the vast living room with its welcoming fireplace, and the light-filled kitchen, Sebastian took MC out into the garden to admire the remarkable view over the lake of Marunweem. And when MC turned to thank her boyfriend, he was down on one knee, asking her to have him for the rest of his life, in the middle of the garden where they got married the following summer.

MC had just finished preparing Christmas dinner, a smile playing on her lips as she soaked in the warmth of the kitchen and the beauty of the snowy tableau outside, when an unexpected wave of dizziness swept over her, leaving her momentarily disoriented. The room seemed to sway, and she felt a sudden need to sit down. Lowering herself to the kitchen floor, she steadied her breath, attempting to shake off the unsettling sensation. In the midst of her momentary weakness, the world outside the window transformed into a blurred mosaic.

Sebastian, engaged in snowy merriment with Theo, glanced back toward the house. When he no longer saw MC at the window, a subtle dismay overcame him. Instinctively, he grabbed his son in his arms and rushed back inside, his heart pounding with worry.

Finding MC on the kitchen floor, Sebastian hurried to get their son out of the room, lest he too worry about his mother and start crying.

"Go take off your coat and shoes, and stay in the living room, little lad. I'll join you right after."

"Yes, Daddy."

Once Theo had gone, Sebastian knelt beside his wife, concern etched on his face, "Darling, what happened? Are you okay?"

With a reassuring smile, MC nodded, “I'm fine, just a dizzy spell. But it's gone now.”

Obviously, her words did not get through his thick skull, and failed to reassure him, because Sebastian was still visibly worried, “Come on, hold on to me. I'll take you to rest on the sofa.”

Before she could protest, Sebastian slipped one hand under her knees, and used the other to support her back as he lifted her off the ground and carried her bridal style. In order not to fall, MC had no choice but to lean fully against his chest (not that she was complaining, since she even took the opportunity to rest her head against his shoulder and get a whiff of his strong cologne).

Sebastian then tightened his embrace around her, making sure she was safe and secure in his arms. MC was by no means surprised by how overprotective he was with her. He had always acted that way with her, even when they were mere friends at Hogwarts, so she knew that it was not after so many years that he was going to start changing.

As promised, he carried her into the living room, where their son was settled at the coffee table while drawing, and deposited her on the plush sofa with the utmost delicacy, as if she were the most fragile and valuable treasure in the world, threatening to shatter into a thousand pieces at the slightest breeze, “There you go. And I don't want you to move from here. You'll only be allowed to get up and sit at the table when dinner starts.”

“Seb, I'm not made of glass.” MC tried to argue.

“No, but you're tired. You didn't sleep well last night, you shouldn't have been cooking on your feet all morning.” He replied, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and genuine care. “You should have asked me to help you, I could have prepared the meal.”

An amused scoff escaped MC, “Sure.”

“What? I’m not that bad at cooking.” Sebastian took on a false air of offence.

MC only stared at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for him to face what they both knew to be the truth.

Sebastian sighed, before letting out a light chuckle, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m a bloody menace in the kitchen.”

MC joined in his laughter, when a knock resounded at the front door, signalling the arrival of their guests. MC, instinctively moving to rise and greet them, felt Sebastian's firm hand gently but decisively press on her shoulder, urging her to stay seated.

"What did I tell you? Don’t you even dare think about standing up." He sternly ordered her. Concern etched his features as he looked into her eyes, silently pleading her to prioritise her well-being.

Sebastian then rose to answer the door. Their friends, adorned in festive attire, entered with smiles that instantly brightened the room. MC, who was still seating in the living room, could hear greetings and laughter from afar. After giving them all a hug, Sebastian directed his gaze towards his wife, giving her a knowing look. MC nodded to let him know she understood, then watched him slip away discreetly upstairs, when she was startled by a bundle of vigour hurtling towards her.

"Aunt MC!" Anne and Ominis' daughter shouted. MC had not seen her since the first of September, when she and the rest of the family had accompanied the little girl to Hogwarts for her first year there. With two Slytherin parents, and Salazar Slytherin's blood in her veins, she had been sorted into the green house with no surprises.

“Estelle, Merlin's beard! You look stunning!” MC took the little girl in her arms and kissed her on the cheek before releasing her. “Give me a twirl, so I can see your beautiful dress.”

Estelle did as she was told, showing off her knee-length blue and white windowpane dress, which had a white Claudine collar and ruffles at the bottom of the skirt.

“My, my!” MC exclaimed while admiring her niece. “All the boys at Hogwarts must be pursuing you.”

“I've got a friend. His name is Henry… I think he's cute.” The girl admitted shyly.

“Promise to tell me everything later?” MC asked, extending her pinkie finger towards her.

Estelle nodded eagerly, holding out her own little finger to seal the promise.

With that done, MC turned to her son, who had yet to notice the presence of guests, so engrossed was he in his colouring, “Theo, have you seen who's arrived?”

“Auntie and Unkie!” The boy abruptly dropped his crayons and ran towards them at full speed.

“My favourite nephew!” Anne lifted him up and took him in her arms. “Say, you've grown up again! You'll soon be taller than me!”

As for Ominis, he approached the sofa to lean over his friend, “So, MC, are we not worthy enough for you to get up and say hello to us?”

“Healer Sebastian put me on sofa rest.” She joked to play down the situation. “I had a dizzy spell earlier, and you know what he's like: always worrying about nothing.”

Before Ominis could respond, Theo climbed onto his mother's lap, “Mummy! Mummy! Now that Auntie, and Unkie, and Estelle are here, is Father Christmas coming?”

“Oh well, I reckon he won't be long now.”

On cue, another knock resounded at the door.

“Maybe that's him!”

Her lady-of-the-house reflexes took hold of MC, who was on her feet in an instant to open the door. On the other side, white-haired Father Christmas was waiting on the porch, wearing his red coat and hat trimmed with white fur.

“Theo, look who's here!” MC summoned her son.

Only the young boy’s loud gasp was heard in the room, his face lighting up with delight at the unexpected arrival of Father Christmas himself, carrying a sack full of presents, and displaying a wide smile beneath the snowy white beard.

"Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!" Father Christmas – or rather Sebastian transfigured into an impressively convincing version of him – exclaimed heartily. "Are there any children who are on the nice list in this house?"

Theo, eyes wide with excitement, approached Father Christmas eagerly. "Me! Father Christmas, I've been really good this year! I even ate all my vegetables!" he declared proudly.

Sebastian chuckled with a deep, jolly voice, and handed him two enormous gifts, "That's excellent, Theo! Keep up the good work, my young friend."

Wide-eyed with wonder, Theo opened his presents in record time. Inside the first was a giant stuffed Common Welsh Green dragon, and inside the second was a small broom suitable for a five-year-old, with a note saying 'Since you can't fly on your dragon'.

The cuddly toy had been MC's idea, as dragons were something Theo talked about all year round, while the broomstick had been Sebastian's idea, as he hoped his son would follow in his footsteps and join his future house's Quidditch team once he got to Hogwarts. They all watched as the young boy was thrilled by his two gifts. He smiled and laughed, unable to contain his excitement. Theo's joy was contagious.

This encouraged Sebastian to continue to distribute gifts, "Estelle, sweetie! My elves have told me nothing but good things about you this year! I've heard that your first year at Hogwarts is going wonderfully well, and that you have a particular interest in Potions. I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you, Father Christmas." Estelle played along for her young cousin's sake, even though she knew perfectly well that it was her uncle underneath the red and white suit.

In turn, Estelle received a large gift containing a set of cauldrons of different metals and sizes, as well as two smaller packages containing numerous ingredients, and manuals containing various potion recipes. It was the perfect apprentice potioneer's kit.

"I still don't know where she got her love of potions from. Certainly not from me." Ominis mumbled under his breath, making Anne laugh.

Father Christmas continued the merry gift-giving for the other guests, taking his role to heart and revelling in the joyous atmosphere. But Sebastian being Sebastian, he could not resist a playful aside to his wife, who was watching the festive scene unfold, "I've heard from your husband you've been a naughty girl. You didn’t stay seated like he told you."

MC took great pleasure in playing along with him, "My husband doesn't know what he's talking about. He just worries too much."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at his wife through his little round Father Christmas glasses, "Now, that's not something a good girl would say about her husband, is it?"

"I'll make it up to him tonight. I promise I'll be a really good girl." She smirked, the hint of mischief in her eyes obvious.

Even through his thick white curly beard, MC could see his Adam's apple bobbing heavily. It took Sebastian a moment to get back into character, "Will you? Well, in that case, I think Father Christmas has a special gift for you too, my dear."

With a theatrical flourish, he presented her a beautifully wrapped box. Curiosity sparkled in MC's eyes as she accepted the gift. She carefully unwrapped it, revealing a delicate necklace with a pendant shaped like a snowflake, each branch encrusted with small diamonds which sparkled brightly in the festive lights.

"I thought it would be a fitting reminder of all the magical Christmas moments we've shared together over the years." Sebastian explained in a whisper.

Touched by the thoughtful gesture, MC smiled warmly at Sebastian, "Thank you, Father Christmas. It’s perfect.”

“There's another surprise underneath to go with it.”

MC realised that the box did indeed have a false bottom. She lifted it and was surprised to find a set of arctic blue lingerie, entirely see-through apart from a lace flake to cover the most intimate areas.

She quickly closed the box to avoid anyone seeing, and shook her head, although she could not wipe the big amused grin off her face, "You're incorrigible. Now go and change yourself back before your son notices you're not here."

“Yes, ma’am.”

After explaining that he had other families to visit, Father Christmas said goodbye to everyone, especially to young Theo, who was the happiest to see him. MC claimed that she was going to see him to the door, but in fact followed him outside.

MC closed the door behind her, and stepped out into the winter cold, “Your transfiguration was extremely impressive. You're getting better at it every year.”

“I'm glad you liked it.” Sebastian smiled.

She took a step towards him and rested her hands on his chest. It was bizarre that he was so much chubbier than usual. Even if she knew it was him, it did not feel like her husband, “I didn't like it as much as my present. Thank you very much, truly.”

“If you wanna thank me, you can wear your present tonight and keep your promise.” He winked at her.

MC stood on her tiptoes and planted a tender kiss on her husband's lips, still transfigured as Father Christmas. Even though she was used to feeling his usual beard against her skin when she kissed him daily, she was still tickled by his new thick, greying moustache. But that did not make the kiss unpleasant, on the contrary. Proof of this was that they continued kissing until they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat in the doorway.

“You're lucky it was me who saw you, and not Theo. He would have been traumatised. Anyway, I came to tell you to hurry back. If you take too long, Theo will suspect something, even if he's ecstatic about his dragon.” Estelle admonished them before returning to the living room as quickly as she had come.

Sebastian was rendered speechless for a moment, “…Did you also feel like it was Ominis talking?”

“Yup, this kid's really becoming too much like her father... but she's right though.” MC took out her wand and tapped Sebastian on the shoulder with the tip. In the blink of an eye, he was back to his normal appearance and attire. “You're more handsome this way. Come on, let's get back inside.”

No sooner had they returned to the living room than Theo ran to his father and wrapped his arms around his leg.

“Daddy! Have you seen Father Christmas? He was so nice!”

“Of course, he was.” Sebastian replied with amusement at how oblivious his son was. He had been so enthralled by Father Christmas and his presents, that he had not even noticed that his father had been absent for several long minutes.

“Honey.” MC called out to him, instantly drawing his attention. “I also have a gift for you.”

She handed him a carefully wrapped package, adorned with a ribbon that matched the holiday décor, to which was attached a label with 'For the man who makes every Christmas magical' beautifully handwritten on it.

His curiosity piqued, Sebastian eagerly unwrapped the present. Revealed within a long black Auror uniform robe. He already had plenty, so he could not really understand why his wife was gifting him with another one.

“I've upgraded it with Kneazle fur and Diricawl feathers so that it has multiple Protection Charms. It also enhances the power of your spells to increase the damage you inflict on your opponents. Normally, nothing can happen to you with this!” MC announced cheerfully.

Sebastian's eyes met hers, and in that shared gaze, he recognised the depth of the sentiment behind the thoughtful gift, “Someone's worrying about me.”

“Of course I worry about you! You’re the most competent Auror there is, so they put you on all the most dangerous cases, and it's going to be even worse now that you've been promoted to Head of the Auror Office.” MC grumbled, seeming somewhat offended by Sebastian's reaction to her gift.

He hurried to take her in his arms and place a kiss on the top of her head, which seemed to be sufficient to calm her down, “I’m only teasing you, love. I love it, and I'll wear it every time I go on a mission. It’s perfect, just like you.”

The festive glow lingered as MC, Sebastian, and the rest of the family continued to revel in the warmth of the holiday spirit. The exchange of gifts had created an atmosphere of shared joy, and as the afternoon unfolded, they transitioned to the dining table, where an array of delectable dishes prepared by MC awaited. Laughter and conversation intertwined with the clinking of glasses and the clatter of cutlery against plate.

As the clock ticked on, Anne, Ominis and Estelle, reluctant to bid farewell to the enchanting family gathering, did not leave until late in the night, well after the usual bedtime for little Theo, who was by no means tired. Fuelled by the excitement of the festivities, he gave his parents an unexpectedly difficult challenge about agreeing to go to bed.

“Alright, I've finally got him to sleep.” Sebastian announced triumphantly as he descended the stairs to the living room.

“How did you do it?” MC asked from the sofa where she was sitting, drinking pumpkin juice.

He laughed, “I told him that the quicker he fell asleep, the quicker he'd wake up and be able to fly on his broomstick.”

MC joined in his laughter, albeit ruefully. Her smile seemed forced because it did not reach her eyes, which were shifty and preferred to remain fixed on the glass in her hands.

"What's the matter, darling? You're acting different." Sebastian asked with genuine concern as he sat down beside her and placed a comforting hand on her knee.

MC jumped up from the sofa at the touch, as if his contact had burnt her, "I – uhm... I have another present for you. I'm kind of nervous to give it to you. That's why I wanted to wait until we were alone."

As she stood in front of Sebastian, she consequently took out her wand and pointed it at one of the cabinets in the living room to open one of the drawers and take out a small rectangular box – about the size of a paperback book – which she made float towards her. Once the object was in her hands, she stared at it hesitantly, then took a deep breath before shoving the package into Sebastian's hands, who was still sitting on the sofa.

"But I only got you one present." Sebastian says, inspecting the present wrapped in red wrapping paper and adorned with a thick, glittery gold ribbon.

"No, you gave me two. Just because they were in the same box doesn't mean it counts as one gift. So we're even." She tried as best she could to reassure him, despite her own nerves, which had been frayed for several days now. "Now, open it."

Sebastian untied the ribbon and removed the lid. Inside he found a pair of white woollen knitted bootees. Under his wife's apprehensive gaze, he froze in silence for a long moment, trying to make sense of this original gift.

"I knitted them myself.” MC said in a small voice to break the agonising silence.

“They're very well made, but… You know, I think Theo already doesn't fit into these anymore." Sebastian joked in an attempt to ease the awkwardness between them.

MC choked back a strained laugh, "That's probably because they're not for Theo."

"Who're they for, then?" He asked with an uncomprehending frown, holding the bootees in his hands.

MC did not say a word. She simply looked at him with a nervous smile, patiently waiting for the realisation to hit him. When it eventually did, it was like he had been struck by lightning. He, who had always been cool-headed and knew how to remain composed even in the worst circumstances – even more so now that he had all his years as an Auror behind him – was currently speechless, and his eyes widened to such an extent that MC feared they would burst out of their sockets.

"You're pregnant?" Sebastian questioned, bewildered.

MC only nodded in response, as she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop the tears welling up. Ever since she had seen a Healer to confirm her suspicions, she had dreaded the moment when she would break the news in turn, letting all sorts of doubts go to her head.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, and she could see her husband looking at her with wide, amazed eyes, she could no longer fathom how she had ever doubted him. How could she have ever thought that he would be anything but supportive to her?

"You're pregnant." He repeated again with a beaming smile, but this time it was not a question. It was a statement to himself, while he was still trying to process the information that had knocked him for six by how unexpected it was.

It seemed to do the trick to snap him out of his daze, as he jumped to his feet, his exuberance evident in the way he pulled MC into his arms. He lifted her off the ground and swirled her around in the air, a whirlwind of happiness and love. MC giggled, caught up in the infectious joy radiating from him. Laughter echoed through the room as they shared a dance of sheer delight, celebrating the beautiful journey that lay ahead of them.

"Oh, MC! That's... I don’t even have the words to describe how fabulous this is!" He exclaimed excitedly as he put her down on the ground and rested a gentle hand on her stomach. "We're gonna have another little one of our own."

"We are." MC confirmed, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and giving it a little squeeze, as if to assure him that it was all real.

"So that's why you got dizzy this morning!" Sebastian's eyes lit up with pride at having put the pieces together. However, that did not last long, because his realisation erased any trace of eagerness and replaced it with worry that made his face fall. "Bloody hell, MC! You cooked all morning while being pregnant. You should’ve let me do it. I'm your husband, you can– no, you must rely on me. I promise I'll be more present from now on, so that you can rest more."

Without further ado, he gently forced MC to sit back down on the sofa with him, so that she would not be even more tired after such a long day. She had to take it easy now that she was carrying their child, the proof of their unconditional love.

Sebastian was committed to being as doting as he could, to pampering his wife even more than he already was. So when MC suddenly burst into tears for no apparent reason, it was only natural for Sebastian to panic and try to work out what was wrong.

"What is it? Did I say something wrong?" He asked worriedly, immediately grabbing her hands.

"No. No, you’re perfect as always... But I was so scared to tell you." She replied in between sobs. "We've been so busy since we had Theo that we've never discussed whether we wanted a second child, plus you've just been promoted so you're going to have a lot of work coming up... I just didn't think it was the right time. I was scared you wouldn't be pleased with the news.”

Still holding her hands, Sebastian brought them to his mouth to place sweet kisses to her knuckles, “MC, I'll have as many children as you're willing to give me, whatever the circumstances.”

“So you're happy?” She asked him in a trembling voice, her big doe eyes full of tears.

It broke Sebastian's heart to see her like this, but he knew he had to get used to it, because this was just the beginning of the hormonal mood swings, "Very much so. You couldn't make me happier for Christmas."

He lovingly kissed away the tears on her cheeks, until none trickled down any more, and MC flung herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling into his soft hair, and he gladly hugged her back, holding her (and his future child) close to him.

Their embrace conveyed the depth of their joy, and all the unshakable love that bound them together. In that magical moment, as their hearts beat in harmony with the joyous news, the room seemed to overflow with the warmth of their connection. The hug lingered, a silent celebration of the love that had brought them to this beautiful chapter in their lives, while Sebastian whispered sweet words in MC's ear.

"We're gonna be one big happy family." He murmured while caressing her hair soothingly.

"I know."

Feeling a surge of emotions that mere words could not capture, MC gently pulled away from the hug. Her eyes, filled with a profound love, locked onto Sebastian's chocolate ones. In those perfect eyes, the ones she never wanted to look away from, she saw the promise of many more beautiful memories and wonderful Christmases to come.

A simple 'I love you' was nowhere near enough to convey how unconditionally enamoured she was with him. Words seemed insufficient to express the depth of her feelings. Instead, she chose a language that transcended the limitations of speech. She leant in, closing the distance between them, and pressed a tender, lingering kiss upon his lips.

The kiss spoke volumes—of gratitude, of connection, and of a love that could overcome any ordeal. It was a tender yet fervent gesture, a silent proclamation of the emotions that resonated within their hearts. As they shared the soft, meaningful kiss, the room seemed to hold its breath, enveloping them in the timeless language of love.

Sebastian, understanding the unspoken sentiments, responded with a warmth that mirrored her profound affection, even though he was the first to break the kiss and choose this moment of vulnerability to lay bare his heart.

“I adore you, Mrs. Sallow. Truly and desperately. Thank you for always making the happiest man alive.”

MC could not help but dive back in to kiss the lips that, for ten years now and until her last breath, she called home.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fluff #hogwarts legacy fanfic #fanfic #christmas #christmas fluff #christmas fanfic

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sidekick-hero · 10 months ago

Text

steddie | rating: t | wc: 2.345 | tags: au, rockstar!eddie, drummer!steve, onesided enemies to lovers, part of our upcoming fic Pickup Note | art credit: @firefly-party

Eddie's living his dream, literally. Ever since his mom danced him around the living room to the sounds of Muddy Waters and Jimmy Hendrix, he has wanted to be a rock star. 20 years later, he made it.

So why is there such a sour taste in his mouth when they stand in front of their cheering audience, bowing and clapping with them? Why does the sight of Harrington throwing his drumsticks into the crowd turn his smile into a frown before he can stop himself?

He knows he's being childish. But knowing something has never helped him much in suppressing those irrational feelings that bubble up inside of him until they spill over and make a mess. Eddie's alignment has always been chaotic, so at least he's trying to make it a chaotic good one.

Lately, though, it feels like he's failed at that, and it's all Harrington's fault.

The guy just had to waltz in and take Gareth's place, with the other guys falling all over themselves with praise and gratitude when Harrington should be grateful. After all, he gets to go on a world tour with the most talked about newcomer metal band right now, when the biggest venues he played before were the local bars and sports halls.

But no, Steve Harrington didn't even have to audition, not really. Not when Gareth's boyfriend had vouched for him being a great drummer and an even greater guy, and Gareth, being the love-struck idiot that he was, had just said "Yes, my love, of course, anything you say" or some equally lovey-dovey shit like that. And now Eddie had to endure the guy's company for three whole months.

"Are you alright, man?" Jeff's hand on his shoulder is grounding and his deep voice pulls Eddie back from his gloomy spiral. He gives his oldest friend a smile that lacks the usual Munson charm, but is still genuine enough for Jeff to return it with one of his own.

"Yeah, 'm fine, just tired," he only half-lies. It's been a long day, hell, a long week. Add to that giving his all on stage, jumping up and down and singing his heart out while letting his sweetheart sing for him and thousands of fans, and he's bound to be exhausted as soon as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

Jeff and Grant don't seem to fare any better, coming down from the post-concert high almost as fast as Eddie and crashing as soon as they get to their tour bus. The only one who seems to be full of restless energy is Steve, who can't seem to stop moving, arms and hands and fingers acting like there's still a drum kit to be played. Eddie swears he can feel him vibrating with it and it sets his teeth on edge.

He's a hypocrite, and he knows it. Hell, the Eddie of a year ago would be out partying right now, dancing and drinking and fucking the night away, high on adrenaline and endorphins and maybe something else if the mood struck. But he left that Eddie at the Crossroads, along with his addiction and most of his anxiety disorder.

While Grant just grunts his good night before falling face first into his bunk bed, Jeff goes over to Harrington to check in on him as well. Eddie remembers the one time Jeff tried to play a DnD character that was anything but good. It was painful to watch and Eddie was almost glad when his Demogorgon killed Jeff's character and the rest of the party and they were able to start a new campaign.

If there's anyone on earth who's intrinsically good, it's Jeff Robinson.

Jeff walks over to Steve and pats him on the back. "Great job, man. You were on fire up there. Can't believe you learned that whole setlist in two weeks."

Steve glows from the praise, a bright smile lighting up his whole face before he ducks his head in what looks like genuine bashfulness. Eddie snorts at the thought and Steve's eyes flick over to him, his smile fading.

Harrington looks hurt and Eddie really wonders why. Why should he care what Eddie thinks of him? It's not like they're friends or anything. The way Jeff is glaring at him, Eddie guesses he still needs to apologize to the guy, but just as he opens his mouth to formulate some half-hearted apology at best, Steve turns away from him and squeezes Jeff's arm.

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I think I'll head to bed, if you don't mind. Get some sleep."

"Yeah, of course. It's been a long day, get some shut-eye. But you really did a great job, man. I'm glad we found such a kickass stand-in for Gareth on such short notice. You saved our asses."

Eddie bites his tongue so hard he thinks he tastes blood.

It's actually Steve who says what Eddie is thinking. "Are you kidding me, man? I'm the one who's glad you let me come and play with you. I mean, today? Being in front of thousands of people, doing what I love? I've never felt so... fuck, I don't even know. Myself? Happy? Alive?" He laughs, but it sounds tentative, and Eddie can see his cheeks glowing red even in the dim night light of their bus. Steve rubs a hand across his neck in obvious embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

Jeff laughs, amused. "Don't worry, it's the concert jitters. Eddie wouldn't stop talking for hours the first time we played in front of more than maybe five drunks back home."

"Har-har," Eddie laughs sarcastically, but there's still a smile on his face that takes the sting out of it. Those were good times, before things got complicated. Before fame and money and being on the road all the time had made them complicated. "I'm gonna hit the hay. Night, Jeff. Harrington."

They return his goodnight wishes with one of their own and Eddie is glad that he already changed into his sweatpants and hoodie backstage. He slips under the covers and turns on his side, facing the wall, listening to Grant's snoring and the sounds of Steve and Jeff getting ready. Eddie knows that sleep won't come anytime soon. He's been an insomniac for as long as he can remember, sleep as absent from most of his life as his father. He has learned to make do with the bare minimum, catching a few hours here and there whenever he can.

Tonight it's Steve Harrington that keeps him awake. Or rather, it is his thoughts and feelings about the man. It's not the first night this happens, but it's the first time he really wonders if maybe he is the asshole after all. Steve's words run through his mind on a loop and every time he closes his eyes he sees the way his smile died on his face, replaced by that kicked puppy dog look that tugs at Eddie's heart no matter how hard he fights it.

Maybe he should at least try to be nicer to the guy.

Sure, he is everything Eddie hated in school: a preppy ex-jock who got everything he ever wanted with his pretty face and his daddy's money. No one ever called him a fuck-up, Eddie is sure of that. While Eddie had to fight for every single thing, even his life, Steve Harrington just got a place in the band and the hearts of their fans and the respect of his bandmates with a few flutters of his long eyelashes. It's true, he's good, Eddie begrudgingly admits. He has found himself staring at Harrington more than once tonight while the man has been playing, mesmerized by the passionate yet easy way he has mastered every single song on their setlist.

Eddie's so lost in his own thoughts that he misses the bus pulling up, only jolted out of his reverie when he hears someone get out of his bed and walk to the front door of the bus.

It's Harrington, talking to the driver. Eddie checks the clock on his phone and is surprised to see that it's already four in the morning. When did that happen? Maybe he fell asleep without realizing it.

Up front, the driver explains that they're stopping here for a few hours. There was an accident further up the highway and the traffic jam is so bad that the driver decided to take his break here. Steve asks if it's okay if he goes outside for a while and Eddie catches himself smiling at the question.

He wonders if Harrington can't sleep, just like he can't. Maybe he's still thinking about Eddie's reaction earlier...no, that would be ridiculous, right? Still, the thought sits heavy in his stomach and after another five minutes he gives up and rolls out of bed to follow Harrington outside. On the way he grabs two hoodies and pulls one over himself.

The cold night air hits him hard as he stumbles down the stairs, but it feels good after a second or two of adjustment.

"Can't sleep?" A voice to his right asks, and sure enough, it's Harrington, leaning against the side of the bus, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"I was going to ask you the same question." Eddie replies, walking over to Steve. "Here." Steve stares wordlessly at the offered hoodie, making no move to take it. "It won't bite, I promise. I doubt you can play with your hands frozen."

That does the trick and he finally reaches out to take the black garment from Eddie and pulls it over his head. It's a little long on the arms, but otherwise it fits well, maybe a little tight around the shoulders. Of course, the guy has broader shoulders than he does, Eddie thinks, not really able to muster much annoyance.

"Thanks," Steve says in a quiet voice, giving him a strange look. And then, as quickly as if he were ripping off a bandage, "I just can't get to sleep. I tried everything, counted backwards from one hundred, counted sheep, did that weird breathing thing Robin showed me, tried reading... nothing. I'm so fucking exhausted, but I just can't sleep."

Eddie hums, knowing the feeling only too well. Harrington sounds on the verge of tears and maybe it's the lingering guilt, the memory of his own racing thoughts, all circling around the man in front of him. Whatever it is, something compels Eddie to say, "I don't have a solution for you. I don't sleep more than three, maybe four hours a night. But I can show you something that might make it more bearable, if you'd like."

Steve looks at him and for the first time Eddie allows himself to look back. To let their eyes meet and lock.

"I'd like that."

Clapping his hands, Eddie abruptly turns and stalks to the back of the bus. When he doesn't hear footsteps following him, he turns and calls out, "You comin' or what?" and grins as Steve almost trips in his haste to catch up.

When they reach the back of the bus, Eddie pushes on a panel that is somehow hidden under the license plate. A small metal shape protrudes from where he just pushed, and when he pulls on it, it turns out to be a metal ladder.

"What are you -"

"Patience, young Padawan," Eddie admonishes with a grin, secretly pleased with Steve's reaction. He's kind of proud of his little secret hideout.

Placing the ladder against the back of the bus, Eddie begins to climb up the stairs to the deck, and when he's at the top, he turns and reaches down for Steve to follow. "Do you trust me?"

Steve looks up at him, his eyes bright in the light of the stars and the moon shining down on them. "Yes."

"I can show you the world," Eddie begins to sing, once again letting his impulsive thoughts dictate his actions. The song came to him the second he looked down at Steve.

Steve comes up the stairs and grabs Eddie's hand, laughing. "Oh my God, are you singing a Disney song?"

"You're the one who recognizes it. I bet you even know what movie it's from, don't you, big boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway, as if he's secretly charmed by Eddie's antics. "Does that make me the princess?"

"And me the ruggedly handsome thief with a heart of gold," Eddie agrees, pleased that Steve got his reference.

Steve snorts, and it shouldn't sound cute, but oh, does it, his nose crinkling adorably. "Yeah, whatever. As long as this isn’t your flying carpet. I don't trust the structural integrity of this thing to actually fly."

"Big, big words. You sound like Henderson."

"Oh God, don't tell him, I'll never hear the end of it."

Eddie taps his chin thoughtfully. "I'll...think about it," he finally settles on, grinning playfully at Harrington. Silence falls over them, and for the first time since Steve walked into their rehearsal studio, it doesn't feel awkward or hostile. In fact, it's nice to share this space up here with someone.

Eddie sits down at the edge of the bus and Steve joins him, sitting maybe a foot away from him in a slight sprawl, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly open as his eyes take in the clear night sky above them. They're far enough out of town to actually see the harmonious arrangement and movement of the stars in the cosmos, forming a celestial symphony that Eddie has often tried and failed to capture in his songs.

Tonight, however, his eyes are caught by another ethereal sight.

"It's so beautiful," Steve whispers, as if sharing a secret with Eddie. "It's so vast and so beautiful, it’s almost frightening, don’t you think?"

"It is," Eddie agrees, never taking his eyes off Steve. So frightening.

They sit there until the sun slowly rises in the east, Steve's eyes on the sky and Eddie's on his own enigma.

This is a sneak peek from @firefly-party and me for our upcoming project Pickup Note to celebrate our dearest friend and collaborator's @thefreakandthehair birthday. Lex, you are our MVP and we are so happy to call you our friend! We love you and we hope you have the best day, week, month and year, because you deserve it 💜💜

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fanart #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my writing #steddie fic #rockstar eddie munson #drummer steve harrington #pickup note

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heartbreakgrill · 1 year ago

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stiles stilinski: breakable heaven; pt. 9- “killing me slow, out the window. i’m always waiting for you just to cut to the bone.”

a/n: EEEK! one more after this cuz i’m a lying liar and can’t stop writing.

stiles leaned his chin against his fist, staring out the window of the second floor room in the hospital. outside, the sun was setting. the rain poured down in a thick stream, bouncing off the pavement. lightening crashed through the sky every so often, and more than once, the lights had flickered. stiles was on the edge of his seat, anxious. he hoped this was just a storm, not anything deeper than that.

down below, the parking lot was sparse of people. cars pulled in and out while the time dragged by. but, it was an unusually quiet night for beacon hills memorial hospital. outside of y/n’s room, stiles ears were only occasionally prickled by the sound of shoes squeaking against the linoleum floors. the stillness made him nervous.

stiles took another deep sigh. his chest lifted with the effort, falling as he let the air out of his nose. his eyes followed a car as it rolled into the parking lot. then, bored of the sight, and restless in his nature, stiles’ turned his knees back towards the hospital bed behind him. his gaze rolled over y/n, who was still just laying there. she was blacked out and a breathing mask sat overtop her face. an iv drop was attached to her left hand. a thin, scratchy hospital-issued blanket was tugged up to her chin, but overtop, stiles had lay his hoodie on her. he’d wanted to run over to her house, grab a blanket, a pillow from her room. but, he didn’t want to leave her sound.

stiles leaned forward, rested his elbows on the edge of the bed, and picked y/n’s hand up off of her stomach. he’d shifted between this exact position, staring out that window, and pacing the room so many times in the last 24 hours. he didnt know what else to do with himself. the nurse on duty kept assuring him that y/n would wake up, at any time. that y/n would be alright, so long as she woke up tonight. it didn’t necessarily mean y/n would be dying- but, that’s when they should all be concerned.

as if stiles didn’t have enough to worry about.

after all, his dad was missing. still. and they had no new leads.

scott had headed to derek’s loft, to warn him about jennifer. that was just a few hours ago. he hasn’t received any updates on the situation. and this storm was intensifying his anxieties.

then, stiles also wasn’t sure where anyone else was- but he just hoped that they were out looking for answers. no one was responding to his text messages.

he wanted to be out there, helping, but when scott had offered him to come to derek’s loft- stiles said no. stiles didn’t want to leave y/n alone. besides, he was paralyzed by the situation. he already lacked any physical enhancements that would offer up any sort of help to the situation. and, now, he was mentally unstable, as well. he couldn’t stopped crying, couldn’t stop his breath from quickening every few minutes. it was taking all of his energy to not crawl up into himself and panic until he wasted away.

the girl he loved was nearly in a coma, and his dad was missing. the

if only she were awake…she would say something, anything, that would help him. she would remind him of his strength and perseverance. she would hug him, kiss his cheek, and make him feel, for just a minute, that the world was simple. that he could get his dad back.

right now, he felt so hopeless.

the only thing that kept him going was the hope of her opening her eyes, squeezing back his hand. it pushed him forth.

it helped, too, that no one else had been taken, quite yet. once they were, once two more guardians were reported missing- that’s when stiles knew his dad was going to die.

stiles brushed his thumb across her knuckles, a pattern he found some grounding root in, and sniffled. he pressed their joined hands to his forehead and leaned his head down. holding back a sob, stiles stuttered out, “i don’t know what to do.”

as if a prayer was being answered, he felt y/n’s fingers twitch between his own. he quickly lifted his head, snapping his gaze to her struggling face.

y/n squinted her eyelids, her vision blurry as she tried to pry open her sight. the fluorescent lights burned her tired, weary eyes, only making her struggle more. it took her more than a moment to adjust, but when she did, she had to process a lot of information. first, her gaze latched to her body- the hospital gown and blankets were itchy against her skin, and she could feel the iv digging at her skin. the breathing mask was restrictive over her face, but the air pumped into her lungs felt so fresh. mostly, what she felt was pain- her legs hurt, her ribs ached, and her head was pounding.

she slowly regained control throughout her body. it was that buzzing feeling one normally got after this leg fell asleep- staticky and nerve-prickling. eventually, her fingers twitched, her toes wiggled, and she was able to take in stiles. he perked up as her eyes fell onto his, immediately jumping from his chair. he never let go of her hand, even as stiles found the nurse’s call button and pressed it rapidly. he leaned his torso over her.

“oh, my god,” he breathed out, gratefully. more tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t care. stiles set a hand to her cool cheek, touch finalizing the fact that she was really conscious again. “you’re awake! thank god- you’re awake, baby.”

y/n wanted to say something, but her throat was scratchy from having not spoken for a day. there was, also, a mask prisoning her mouth. a small cough forced it’s way from her throat. stiles carefully pulled it from her face. y/n lay her hand over his, helping him move it. it left a red, dented mark over either of her cheeks. they slid their fingers into one another’s.

“wha-“ she coughed slightly, clearing her throat, “what happened?” short, fading clips rolled over her working memory, like filing cabinets rattling around, shutting and closing to quickly for her to grab onto anything.

stiles lay a hand on her face, unable to focus on her words, “i’m so fucking happy you’re awake.”

“stiles,” she furrowed her brows, “what happened?”

stiles was going to explain everything to her, though he was afraid. he was sure she didn’t remember of anything, especially everything he had told her before they went to the school. so, having to explain it all to her again, especially now that she had been nearly killed by the very thing stiles warned her of- would she reject him? would she want nothing to do with not only that part of his life, but him, too?

stiles didn’t know if he’d survived losing his dad and her all within the same day. he needed her.

just as he opened his lips, hesitant words waiting on his tongue, the nurse was rushing into the room. stiles couldn’t remember her name.

she looked more than concerned, clutching her stethoscope around her neck with white knuckles. when she saw y/n, eyes wide open, breathing mask in her hand, she flinched slightly.

she went to say something, too, but lightening cracked overtop of the hospital. it was loud, louder than the storm had been moments ago. and it sounded like the wind was crashing against the hospital in thick, tormenting waves.

“good thing you’re awake,” her breathy words fell into the air, a slight, nervous humor in her tone.

then, another lightening strike crashed, and the lights in the hospital blacked out. y/n instantly grabbed at stiles’ wrist, tight, and he slipped his fingers into her. y/n’s body was shaking.

“what’s happening?” stiles demanded.

the backup generator powered on. the lights were dimmer than before, and an alarm began blasting throughout the building. a warning. y/n flinched, again, at the sound, squinting her eyes shut and tilting her head away from the noise. her forehead banged against her skull.

“we have to go! they’re evacuating the hospital because of the storm. there’s an ambulance leaving in ten minutes, and another in twenty. we need to get you on one of them,” the nurse quickly shot to y/n’s bedside. she took the breathing mask from her hands and began moving the iv stand about. “do you think you can walk?”

y/n glanced at stiles, her pupils wide with fear. she shook her head, “i don’t know!”

“it’s okay,” stiles nodded once. he managed to keep his tone steady, reaching out to help her off the bed, “it’s okay. here.”

the nurse met stiles on his side of the bed. she carefully set y/n’s legs off the side of the bed, her feet barely touching the cold floor. then, y/n’s nurse quickly slipped the young girl’s pants up her legs, a pair of hospital socks on her feet. y/n gripped either of their hands as they helped her stand, their support also pressing onto her elbows. she hissed as she stood up, bunched over from the pain. her chin dropped into her chest. stiles securely held onto her waist, her hand squeezing tightly into his other.

“hold onto this,” the nurse wheeled y/n’s iv stand over to stiles. he hesitated, unsure of how he was going to manage that.

but, he wrapped a fist around it. as soon as he had he did, the nurse bolted out of the room to help other patients. stiles stared after her, jaw slack, and a little more than pissed off at her lack of beside manners. “ok, wow. um- okay, baby, okay…we’ve gotta go, okay?”

y/n looked up at him with a pained expression. tears streaked down her face, “stiles…i don’t-“

her knees gave out on her. y/n nearly collapsed to the ground, but stiles grabbed onto her waist. he felt her entire body shaking beneath his touch, both from the pain coursing throughout her injuries and her fear.

“hey, hey! it’s okay! hey, here.”

stiles carefully pulled the iv from the needle in her hand, then looped her arms over his shoulders. “please, baby, hold on to me, okay?”

he felt y/n nod against his chest, weakly. her hold tightened onto his neck. stiles crouched down an inch more so he could get his hands under her knees. he picked her up in his arms, more than surprised by his own strength. the machines beeped, wildly, as they lost connection to her body. but, that was just background noise. outside, he could hear dozens of people rushing past, the alarm still blaring.

stiles kicked the door to her room open, pausing as those people rushed past him, down the hallway, towards the elevators. the lights flickered again and everyone yelped in fear. stiles glanced down as he felt y/n’s hair tickle his neck, her head lolled into the corner of his shoulder. her eyes were squeezed shut, teeth ground together as she tried not to scream.

“okay, here we go, baby,” stiles pushed them into the stream of people headed for any and all of the exits.

patients, nurses, and doctors moved against him, bumping y/n’s legs every so often, offering no help to the situation. he cursed every time they hit y/n and stiles, because she hissed in pain as they bumped her injuries. stiles kept glancing down at her to try to ensure she was okay, so he nearly tripped over his own feet, numerous times. but, somehow, he managed to keep going.

just as they reached the elevators, the doors popped open, and stiles was met with the sight of derek, scott, and jennifer. anger coursed through stiles veins, and his eyes darkened. he clenched his jaw as he took a step back. why was she here, with them? why had they brought her here? stiles just knew this storm was because of her.

y/n rustled in his arms as she tried to lift her head. she felt herself drifting in and out of consciousness. though she couldn’t really focus on anything happening- the lightening rattling the building, the chaos unfolding before them, the woman who nearly killed her standing the elevator- she could hear stiles’ heartbeat pounding against her ear. her fading consciousness was taken back to his jeep, his bare chest beneath her touch, his finger brushing patterns into her skin.

she heard his heartbeat quicken, his blood pumping angrily. she wanted to comfort him, remind him that it would be all be okay. they’d make it out. she’d live.

so, y/n wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck, tangling them into his hair. goosebumps rose beneath her touch. stiles felt his anger ease up as he focused onto her cold fingertips.

as a cooling breath fell between stiles’ lips, scott quickly ushered him into the elevator. the doors closed behind stiles’ back. and scott breaks the news to him, “the alpha pack is here. in the hospital.”

stiles shoots daggers at miss morrell, who is trying to avoid his gaze. if y/n wasn’t here, in his arms, he’d jennifer up against the wall, hand around her throat. he didn’t hear scott at first, not until his friend touches his shoulder. he meets scott’s eyes, “…they’re here? in the hospital? why? why are they here?”

“yeah,” scott nodded shortly, “but, that’s not the worst part. cora- she’s dying. but, jennifer says there’s something she can do to help. that’s why we brought her-“

“and we’re gonna trust her?” stiles’ voice rose, slightly, as he swung around to face the enemy. as he did, y/n groaned in pain. he was aware of himself, her in his arms, again, and quickly looked to see if she was okay.

scott could smell the fear and pain oozing off of y/n’s crumpled body. he set a hand on y/n’s knee, guiding stiles back to his side of the elevator, “here, stiles. i can help her.”

stiles met scott’s eye. he didn’t hesitate to nod, once, encouraging scott to take away her struggle, to allow her just a few moments of peace. the veins of scott’s hand then turned black, as the pain coursed from y/n’s body, into his own. stiles watched her face, brows lifting in hope as he watched the painful expression on her face fall. she relaxed back into his arms, the trembling of her body ceasing just a bit.

“there,” scott patted stiles’ shoulder. “that should help. but, you need to get her out of here. i don’t know what will happen if she gets stuck between us and the alpha pack.

“i know,” stiles lips trembled as pressed a kiss to her forehead. a tear escaped his head. then, he twisted his head towards jennifer. she finally met his eye, looking just a little uncomfortable. stiles frowned, “i know, scott. but- where’s my dad? where the fuck is my dad? does she have him still?”

jennifer went to respond, a cocky look in her eyes. but, the doors to the elevators opened, again. they had arrived to whatever floor scott had pressed the button for. stiles assumed it was where cora’s room was. scott stepped forward, bracing the situation with a hand atop the door so it could not close. it was relatively quiet on this floor, aside from the flickering lights, the blaring alarm, and the scattered patient’s charts across the floor. after their hesitation to gauge the situation, derek rushed towards cora’s room.

stiles didn’t really pay attention as scott and derek investigated. he kept a watchful eye on jennifer, gently brushing y/n’s hair from her forehead with a shaky hand. it was grounding, it helped him focus. jennifer met his gaze, again, a coy smile curling into her lips.

she narrowed her eyes and glanced down to y/n, “poor girl. how many broken ribs does she have? is she concussed, or no? what’s the state of our patient, mr. stilinksi?”

stiles licked his lips as his jaw rolled in frustration. his voice was low, “after you help us find my dad, i am going to kill you-“

“have her symptoms set in yet?” jennifer took a daring step forward, interrupting him.

stiles’ brows furrowed, just slightly, “wha-what? what other symptoms?”

y/n coughed, a movement that racked her entire body. jennifer flicked her brows up, as if she had been anticipating this. stiles glanced down at y/n, and noticed some black liquid lining her lips. she coughed, again, face scrunched in pain. a small trial of what stiles could only assume was black blood trickled down her chin.

stiles’ breathing hastened and he looked back up at jennifer, “what did you do to her? what the fuck did you do to her? you-you fix it! right now! fix her, or i’m going to tear every limb from your body!”

jennifer chuckled, “your threats don’t scare me, stiles. after all, you’re just a human. you’re nothing compared to scott. you don’t have claws or fangs.”

as jennifer spoke, she circled around stiles, forcing him to take small steps backwards, away from her threatening presence. he looked to scott and derek, who were fighting for their lives. he was on his own.

“you just have your annoying sense of humor, your inability to ever stop speaking. and, now,” she gestured at y/n with an amused expression, “a dying girlfriend.”

stiles sneaker skidded against the linoleum floor as he backed up out of the elevator. he looked down at his feet to keep his trembling balance. and, when he looked back up, the doors of the elevator were slowing closely. jennifer was getting away.

“good luck!” she waved slyly.

behind him, scott, derek, and the twins continued fighting. their mangled roars were evident, now, as stiles’ focused shifted from jennifer to their chaos. he glanced down at y/n, heart thumping wildly, now. the black blood was coating her chin, bubbling between her lips. but, she was still passed out.

stiles could no longer manage his anger. it was coursing through his veins, white, hot. he felt like he would explode.

so, stiles carefully set y/n on an abandoned hospital bed that was pushed up against the wall. he tried to roll her into what had been cora’s room, just to get her out of the way, so he could focus his anger towards something useful. but before he could, ethan and aiden threw a piece of fallen ceiling towards them. stiles barely managed to dodge out of the way before another piece followed the other. he came back onto his feet, quickly, rushing to y/n’s side. he used every ounce of strength to push y/n’s bed inside the room. his sneakers squealed against the floor. then, stiles heard a roar, and he looked up again, just in time.

the anger was heating up his reddened face, now. he searched for a weapon in the hallway, something to not only defend himself with, but something to fight back.

ethan and aiden were running towards him. stiles cursed under his breath as they neared. he found a pipe, ripped from the wall, on the floor by his feet. stiles gripped it in his fists and, with the strength only ever garnered by a boy protecting someone he loved, stiles hit the werewolves over their stupid, conjoined head.

they were sent, toppling, down the hallway. scott and derek rounded the mound of mangled skin and bone, glancing between it and stiles with an astounded shock.

“nice going,” scott held out a fist for stiles’ to pound with his own. instead, his friend pushed it away, slowly.

stiles looked up at scott with a crinkled expression, tears welling up in his eyes, “she’s dying, scott.”

–

the world came crashing down around stiles. he didn’t know what to do.

scott abandoned his friend, running off with deucalion to try to get answers to solve their problems. he instructed stiles to get y/n to dr. deaton- but he wasn’t going to help. stiles tried not to focus on his frustration that came from scott’s willingness to leave him, alone, with a dying girl- and not just any girl, but stiles’ girl.

so, stiles focused his energy on quickly awakening derek, hoping he would help get her to the animal clinic. he knew he would run into troubles, and he needed a werewolf on his side. after all, jennifer was right. he was just a human. he didn’t have any powers.

but, derek simply scooped up cora, and prepared to leave the hospital.

stiles stood in the door of the elevator blocking it as derek pressed a button. he demanded derek to help him. “derek!” stiles begged, voice less assertive, but more so just weak, “please! you have to help me! she-she’s dying! you have to help me!”

“i have to help my family first,” derek set cora against the wall of the elevator. he stepped forward, a hand raised in a move to shove stiles out of the way.

but, instead, stiles gripped at derek’s hand, a weary, bargaining look in his eyes, “you know i would help you! derek- you know i’d help. we can take them both there-! cmon, derek. pls-please?”

derek hesitated as stiles’ tone cracked. it seemed like he might, maybe, help stiles. his hesitation gave stiles a glimmer of hope. but, then, derek glanced over at cora, at the black blood pouring out of every crevice of her body. he ripped his hand from stiles touch, “i can’t.”

he refused to meet stiles’ sad eyes as he backed up into the elevator. stiles was frozen. derek thought he would have to shove the boy from the elevator, but, after a second, stiles took his own step back. his body was slack, still.

he was alone.

just as the doors began to close, derek finally met the burning gaze coming from stiles’ dark eyes. “you know i’d help you, derek.”

derek’s head dipped low.

tears streamed down stiles cheeks, a silent cry that took up every ounce of energy he had left. stiles watched the elevator close, secure and tight, hands slack at his sides. all of a sudden, a scream rose from his throat. stiles kicked at the stupid metal box, hard, yelling loudly.

a sob racked through his body as he turned back to y/n. stiles ripped his hands through his hair, kicking ripped pipes, pieces of ceiling, skidding them across the floor.

stiles came to slouch on the edge of her bed. he wanted to just lay at her side, content to suffocate within her shadow. he didn’t even know where to begin. he didn’t know how to get her out of here, to the animal clinic.

the police were here. the storm had blocked off several roads. jennifer was running loose again. the alpha pack was still on the prowl. stiles’ dad was missing.

and y/n was dying.

he at least knew the end goal, which was better than nothing- get her to the animal clinic. but, he had so many obstacles in his way. so many obstacles that required supernatural abilities he just did not have.

stiles slowly turned his head to y/n, shoulders dropped, head hung low. he brushed his finger across her temple. he smoothed the hair back from her forehead. “i’m so sorry,” he lips blubbered.

stiles felt like he had failed her. no- he knew he had failed her. because he had. “i’m so sorry, baby.” stiles crouched over her body, his head in the crook of her still neck, sobbing like a baby.

he’d gotten her caught up into this mess with his stupid lies and manipulation, when he could have just told her the truth. all of this could have been avoided. but, now; she was on her death bed. and it was all his fault.

he had killed her.

stiles stared at her for a while, maybe just a few minutes, admiring her peaceful beauty. he ran his fingers over her cheeks. he’d been in this position so many times before. but never like this. his chest, though filled with fear, mourning, made some room for the love he felt for her. because he did- he loved her. he loved her so much.

his mind raced, as he wondered when it was that he finally realized he loved her.

had it been the time she met his dad? when she sat with them after her shift and ate dinner? when she spoke of her dream for after high school, when she shared the most intimate details of her hopes? he remembered how much his heart had swelled as she talked. she was so smart, so intelligent and creative. he knew she had a bright, hopefully future outside of this stupid town.

or had it been the week earlier, when he had gone to her house for just a hook up. they watched a movie, some stupid, pointless movie that he talked through the majority. he kept looking over at her as she giggled, face lit dimly by the television. his chest constructed each time she laughed. everyone always thought his jokes were dumb, but she- she laughed.

then, they had sex, and stiles felt her in his bones. he felt her fingers like they were apart of his own hand and he felt her breath strung against his rib cage. she was becoming his, and he was becoming hers. they were each other’s, a rare but beautiful, promising thing. in this world, in this town- it was everything.

maybe that was it. maybe that was the moment he knew. when he realized she was everything to him.

stiles lifted his head, an energy pulsing through his bloodstream. maybe he didn’t have supernatural abilities. maybe the road ahead seemed impossible. and maybe, just maybe, he’d die at her side- but he would only die trying. for her. always for her. everything for her.

anything.

he knew, now, that he could do this, even if he had to go it alone. but, he wasn’t going to have to.

stiles lifted y/n, carefully, in his arms, again. her head hung over his arm, arm strewn towards the ground. stiles knew she was fading fast. he had to go- now.

but, then, the elevator bell dinged.

stiles looked towards the sound. a small ounce of fear itched at his brain. he didn’t know what was awaiting them on the other side of the doors.

then, they opened- and he breathed a sigh of relief.

allison, danny, and isaac stepped into the hallway, determined looks on their faces. danny drug his eyes from stiles, down to y/n. he took a deep, nervous breath, before met stiles’ tearful gaze, again.

“well,” danny spoke, a little fearful, but confident in his tone, “are we gonna save my best friend, or what?”

stiles nodded, once, “yes, we are. i have to tell her. i need her to know that i love her.”

#derek x stiles #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles x lydia #stiles x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf x reader

285 notes · View notes

alwerakoo · 3 months ago

Text

as tall as you think

Tales of the TMNT Leo & Raph word count: 2k CW: anxiety disorder (aka: Leo has anxiety - the fic)

AO3

---

There are glow-in-the-dark stars taped to the bottom of Mikey's bed.

They're so old he can't remember if it was him of his brother that insisted on it, and they're so old he never once considered taking them off – carefully taping his posters and pictures to the space around them. It's like a game at this point – finding any leftover room for new things.

Raph traces them with his gaze, his fingers laced across his stomach.

Leo's mattress squeaks as he shifts in his bed again, his feet brushing against the brick wall.

Raph bites on his cheek.

Mikey can fall asleep anywhere at any time, and Donnie's brain doesn't shut off without something absurdly loud blasting in his ears. Raph can hear it even now, music faintly bleeding out of his headphones.

But Raph and Leo have always been light sleepers at best – borderline insomniacs at worst. It's one thing they have in common, and like all the things they have in common – they're so different in it at the same time.

Raph's body feels electric, his veins all adrenaline and excitement – no blood. He spends many nights restless, the last one to go to bed and the first one to rise.

He trains, the line between his fingers and sai always blurry; he paces around the lair; he runs along rooftops, feet dangling off the edge. And then his body shuts off, as sudden as a car shutting down on a red light, and he passes out – dead to the world.

He runs himself dry, and then he picks himself up again, over and over again.

When Leo stays up, he's a shadow of himself the next morning.

Raph sighs, quietly, his mind ticking away the minutes till he'll be able to sneak out of the room without Dad sitting right on his tail.

In his bed, Leo shifts again.

Raph sighs again, louder this time.

“You up?” He asks, voice lowered.

Leo's quiet for a moment, his shell turned to Raph, until he finally exhales, giving in.

“Yeah.”

Raph sits up, shifting to his knees. He takes his pillow with him, tucking it under his chest as he turns, facing Leo's bed without a moment of hesitation, like its second nature.

At this point, it might as well be.

It's an old tradition of theirs – maybe even older than the stars on his ceiling.

All four of them have been sharing beds, rooms, spaces for as long as he can recall. It's not home without his brothers, even if Mikey has a tendency to snore, the light from Donnie's phone or computer woke him up on more than one occasion, and Leo never quite grew out of the habit of borrowing things without asking.

The room is all of theirs, but late nights belong to him and Leo only.

Raph and Leo never had that much in common, always opposites in some way or another, like two puzzle pieces from the same box, but not made to snap together.

When Raph was younger, he never had patience for puzzles. He'd push the carton and paper squares until they fit, by sheer force and spite alone.

He'd make Leo cry with that, because his brother always did when they broke the rules to any game, which made him a rotten playmate, but taught Raph the valuable skill of never quite letting Leo know when he was making up new ones.

Sometimes, during late nights, in the glow of Leo's fairy lights and Raph's stars, he's doing it again.

But he doesn't think Leo minds this time around.

They've spent hours like this, and sometimes, Raph thinks he wouldn't mind if this was the rest of his life.

Sometime ago, April asked them what they thought their heaven would look like. It was a silly question, related to some show that Raph was only half paying attention to. He can't quite remember what he answered, something related to this or other celebrity.

It was a lie anyway.

He thinks it would be this.

Leo shifts, turning to lay on his stomach, arms crossed under his chin.

“What's up?” Raph asks.

Leo's fingers drum on his forearms, and he takes a deep breath, like he has to steady himself.

“Nothing,” he says, and he's a bad lair. “Just... Hanging out.”

“Hanging out?”

“Yeah,” Leo says, and Raph can almost hear his mind racing.

He's barely exaggerating.

His brother's brain always seemed to work a mile a minute, too fast for his own good, his thoughts too big. He knows Leo struggles to catch up with his own mind sometimes, words spilling out of his mouth like he was going to swallow down his own tongue.

He thinks it might be even worse when he's staying quiet.

“You're getting worked up about something again,” Raph huffs.

Leo raises his head, frowning, probably to feel a little taller than him.

He's been outgrowing Leo since they were toddlers, and he doesn't think his brother ever quite got over it.

“I'm not,” Leo says defensively, his fingers flexing against his pillow.

“Yes, you are,” Raph says. “Look at you, you've got the shakes.”

Leo looks down at his own hands, like he just noticed them.

He shifts, intertwining his fingers under his chin, then turns again, laying them flat on the pillow, not helping his point in the slightest.

“Come on, man. Work with me.”

Raph puts his elbow on his pillow, cheek resting against his palm.

He's known Leo all his life, and knows his tendency to work himself up to the point of boiling, always over nothing, like the back of his own hand.

Leo tried explaining it to them, once.

How he runs something over and over in his mind, until it takes on a completely new shape, until he can't remember what parts really happened and what parts he's scared of happening.

How he can lay out every reason why he shouldn't bother himself about it, but his fingers still go numb and stiff, and his heart races in his throat like he's going to choke on it.

How he gets sick on his own thoughts.

Raph never quite got it.

But Donnie must've, because he pulled Leo into his tent that evening, their voices hushed and the light from the computer's monitor bright.

That night, Leo didn't take his mask off to sleep, and he chewed on the ends of it until they frayed.

Raph doesn't remember ever finding out what they talked about, but he knows that after came a lot of ''articles'' that Donnie was sending and that Leo never read. They argued about it some.

But what Raph does know, is that there's no real calming when Leo gets like this. It's best to let him run his course, let him spill over – his worry and nerves deep but not endless. Or so he hopes.

“I'm just...” Leo says finally, drumming his fingers against his palm, seemingly completely forgetting about keeping them still. “It's kind of stupid.”

“You are kind of stupid,” Raph says, on instinct. Leo sends him a glare, and he raises his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Alright, alright, just shoot.”

Leo bites his lip, lowering his gaze.

“I just keep thinking...” He doesn't look at Raph when he says it, but there's a certain panicked quality to his words, like he's scared he's going to run out of them at any second. “We almost died, Raph.”

Raph blinks.

He shifts a little in his place, mulling over Leo's words, until he finally says:

“Well, yeah. Which time specifically?”

Leo's neck straightens, and there's a new expression on his face, something open and wounded.

“That's the thing!” He catches himself raising his voice, and lowers it again. “So many times. Like, that's not...” He takes a shaky breath. “What if something happened to any of us? Any of you?”

Instinctively, Raph reaches back, tracing his fingers over the healed shell – a leftover scar from splitting it in half.

“But we didn't. Die, I mean,” he says.

It is true.

There's a certain gratefulness he carries with himself nowadays. Every day he gets to wake up and eat breakfast next to his family, every day he gets to bicker with his brothers in the evening, every day he gets to stretch his back and feel the ache in his shell slowly fade away.

He doesn't think about the 'what ifs'. They're not worth it.

He tells Leo so, but his brother only scratches at his arm, his shoulders raising, like he's trying to hide away.

“It's not that.” He huffs. “It was real. That's not a 'what if', it's an 'almost reality'.”

“Yeah, that's what 'what if' means, dipshit.” Raph scoffs.

He's not really annoyed, more so confused.

“You don't get it.” Leo sounds more upset now; he speaks a little faster. “We could've died, Raph. Isn't that terrifying?”

Raph sucks on his teeth.

Right, maybe he is a little annoyed. But only on Leo's behalf, for the way his stupid brain functions.

“I mean... It was, in the moment.”

He winces a little, seeing the face Leo pulls at that.

“Yeah. And it still is!” He doesn't bother lowering his voice anymore. “You're telling me you never think about it?”

“No,” Raph says, which is mostly true. “I try not to,” he adds, which is a little more honest.

“Well, that's what I'm trying to do!” Leo turns suddenly, laying with his back flat on the bed. “But it keeps catching up to me.”

“Seems like you're not trying hard enough,” he says.

He knows it’s a mistake the moment the words leave his mouth.

Leo's fingers squeeze his blanket so much they shake. His throat bobs, and there's a certain twitch to his lips that Raph knows all too well.

It makes something in his chest squeeze painfully.

“Are you going to cry?” He says, and it's a genuine question.

It doesn't really sound like one, he realizes.

There's a sudden flash of anger on Leo's face, and he raises his hands, throwing them in the air.

“Well, I'm sorry?” His voice pitches, all wobbly. “Sorry for having emotions! God, you're such an asshole.”

Leo pushes his palms against his wet eyes, taking in a shaky breath.

They lay in silence for a minute or two, taking in the quiet beat of Donnie's music and Mikey's soft snore.

“Sorry for caring about you.” Leo says finally, putting his hands down.

He sounds wet and fragile, and petty as hell, which Raph supposes he can't blame him for.

This is the thing, he supposes. It's how it goes with them.

Leo used to always cry whenever one of them did; those big, sad tears that used to annoy Raph to no end, because what does Leo have to cry about?

He started to understand it more as they got older.

He likes when Leo cries holding him, when Raph's own emotions get too big to carry. It makes him feel cared for, in a way. Validated, maybe.

He thinks about that now, watching his brother sniffle, and says:

“Well, I'm sorry, too.”

Leo turns to look at him, his cheek on the pillow.

Raph turns away, just so he doesn't have to endure Leo looking at him with those eyes.

And damn it, he's always had the biggest, saddest eyes.

He thinks about Leo when they were younger, how much he cared for things like rules, and putting their toys away at the end of the day, and keeping out of the places Dad told them to stay away from. And how much he cared for them.

Leo cares for all of them so much, and this is how he shows it.

Raph is grateful to still get to fall asleep next to his brothers every day. Leo is scared, that one day he won't.

“... Apology accepted,” Leo whispers, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

Then he grimaces, as if disgusted with himself.

Raph shifts on his bed, pushing his shell up the wall.

“Come here,” he says, pulling his covers away.

It's been a while.

They're both bigger now, and Leo's shell doesn't fit fully on the bed, and his knee digs into his thigh, but it doesn't really matter, because Raph doesn't need their puzzle pieces to fit perfectly to make his point.

“I'm here,” he tells him. “So I can't be dead, right? That's what matters. This the 'actual reality', Lee.”

Leo sniffles once again.

“Yeah,” he says, quietly. Then, very suddenly: “Donnie says it's anxiety.”

Raph frowns.

“What?”

“My...” He stops for a moment, like he's considering his own words. “When I get the shakes.” He decides on, finally.

“Oh,” Raph says. “Okay.”

“He says I should talk to a doctor about it.”

They've been to the doctors a few times now – once they figured out that for what it was worth, veterinarians have a better general understanding of turtles. But he's not sure how much vets could know about Leo's brain.

“Do you want to?” He asks instead.

Leo shrugs, and that's that. Raph doesn't push.

They don't say anything after that, and Leo curls up on his side, his forehead touching Raph's elbow.

Raph watches the stars on his ceiling and the posters surrounding them.

He's still able to make space for them. He's making them fit.

And he'll do the same for his brother.

Every time.

#fanfiction #tottmnt #tales of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #ff #tales of the tmnt #mutant mayhem #fanfic

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niki-phoria · 2 years ago

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omg txt... hmmm... kai x reader where reader gets caught admiring kais greek god features hehe? gn or male, up to you!

pairing: kai x gn!reader genre: fluff word count: 813

a/n: this was such a cute idea tysm for requesting !! also this isn't really getting caught staring that's my bad lmao

a sudden weight falling on your shoulder makes you jump a little, stealing attention from the movie playing in the background. kai leans against you in a peaceful sleep, legs tangled with yours and his left arm thrown over your waist. you can feel your heartbeat picking up at the feeling of your crush laying against you. you hope the other boys don’t notice how flustered you are.

cuddling with kai isn’t a new experience for you, though you’ve never been this close before. kai nuzzles closer to you in his sleep. you try to refocus on the movie but kai’s warm breath against your neck sends shivers down your skin. you shift a little, gently coaxing him to lay on your lap. from this angle you can see more of his face. messy brown curls frame his perfect face. his jawline almost looks sharper from this angle. his birthmarks are visible, small freckles decorating his face. gently, you trace your fingers along the marks on his temple, down his cheek, along his nose, and finally next to his lip. you move your hand from his face to play with the strands of his hair. it’s soft despite the years of bleaching and heat damage. you’re careful not to pull on the curls too harshly as you run your hands through it.

you get so focused on kai that you don't even realize the movie has ended. your thoughts are interrupted by a snicker from next to you. from across the room beomgyu playfully rolls his eyes. “you two are so obvious.”

“what do you mean?”

“do you have to be so coupley around us?” yeonjun whines.

“we’re not dating though,” you furrow your eyebrows. kai stirs on your lap before moving closer to you.

from across the room, soobin raises an eyebrow at you. “you’re not?”

“no… i mean, i like him, but we haven’t talked about it.”

“he likes you too, you know,” yeonjun says. the idea almost seems foreign to you. you fall back into silence as you debate confessing. vulnerability has never been your strongest trait, especially because you’ve never cared about someone as much as you care about kai.

your thoughts are interrupted when taehyun pats your shoulder as he follows the rest of the boys out of the living room. “you should tell him. trust me.” you nod, watching him leave.

once you’re completely alone with kai, you gently shake him awake. “kai,” you whisper. he squints up at you in the darkness, moving from your lap to sit up.

“sorry,” he murmurs. you shake your head.

“come on, let’s go to bed.” he nods, following you from the couch and into his room.

kai falls asleep quickly, back pressed against your chest. his hand holds yours over his waist and your legs tangle together. the night gives you more time to think. your mind drifts through every moment you’ve shared with kai, every little action and thing he’s said that made you fall in love with him. love. you love him.

“i love you,” you whisper into the darkness. kai doesn’t move at all. you’re glad he can’t hear you. after a few more restless minutes you sigh, burying your face into his shoulder and finally allowing sleep to take you.

the next morning you wake up to the feeling of something against your neck. you shift a little before it happens again, this time on your jawline. then your cheek. forehead. nose. this time you open your eyes, fully awake. when you do, you’re greeted with a smiling kai leaning over you. “did you mean it?”

a million thoughts run through your mind. even with reassurance from your friends, the idea of kai hearing your confession creates a ball of anxiety in your stomach. it presses against your chest, almost suffocating you. “mean what?”

“last night. do you love me?” kai looks so happy as he hovers over you. you will your heartbeat to slow down as you study his face once again. you focus on the freckles above his eye. you’re worried that your voice will shake if you speak so you simply nod. kai moves his hand to run against your jawline, cupping your face. “can i kiss you?”

your breath hitches at the question. your eyes flicker from kai’s to his lips. you nod once again before kai gently leans down to press his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. you can feel his knees on either side of your waist. your hands move from his shoulders down to his hips, holding him closer.

you smile when kai pulls away, leaning up to peck his jawline. his thumb rubs against your cheek. “be mine?” you whisper.

kai’s face flushes, ears burning red. “only if you’ll be mine too.” you bite back a smile, pulling him back down into another deep kiss.

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stephiethewephie · 3 days ago

Text

We Certainly Aren't in the Hundred Acre Woods Anymore: Chapter 3

IM NOT DEAD HI! Promises to not wait 3 months to make a new chapter again and instead 4 months past by IM SORRY!!! A CYBORG COWBOY BECAME A HOMEWRECKER IN MY BRAIN AND REFUSED TO PUT ME BACK! Also I've been burned out for a bit but still. I promise this time I will try to get the next chapter out within a month or less now that I'm back in the game. No huge promises though. Thank you again for your patience! You're all wonderful human beings and I appreciate you very much! I hope you enjoy!!!

HAVE A LOVELY DAY!!!!

The trip down was relatively smooth.

No other surprises, thank goodness. However, there were times when a sudden bump in the road caused Piper to jolt from her seat. Normally on these trips, Piper would fall asleep. Her headphones blocking the roar of the engine, the blasting of her dad's… interesting music taste, and whatever conversations her parents were having that she would always be shooed away from if she tried to contribute. Her Pooh bear giving her the comfort and softness she needed in this time where most of the familiar comfort and safety is taken away from her, her only solace. She would dream to escape the reality she was in. To live in the fantasy of her own world once more before everything crashed down on her.

However, this time, Piper could not even rest her eyes. The image of the fire she saw before still burning in her mind. She tried to convince herself that it was just her imagination. But, she had no idea why her brain would even fathom up such a thing. Especially with such realistic imagery. Her home, her woods, engulfed in flames. She was never one to believe in visions, but the possibility that being the case only filled her restlessness and anxiety. Would her woods still be here when she returns. She wanted desperately to tell her parents to turn the car around, to run back to those woods and never leave them again. But, that would only make them upset, and they would never believe her with the active imagination she has. Plus, her prevalent desire to stay in the woods would only make it seem like an excuse. So, she kept convincing and convincing before she finally put the image to the back of her mind. Yet it would still linger on for a while.

The exclamation of Piper's father saying, "we're here," snapped Piper out of a trance she didn't even realize she was in.

#twst wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #oc #twst mc #my ocs #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #yuu twst #twst fanfiction #twst fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #piper finch

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hauntedjpegcollection · 23 days ago

Text

in my restless dreams, i see that town

wc: 5398 au: silent hill au ch: yasiel, benji, lethe

My favorite memory of you is the swing set. Rusty and neglected, lonely and ignored.

Our backyard, you remember? You finally let me push you until we thought you’d go the whole way around. You didn’t, but it was enough that we thought it was possible. And you let me and I never told you how much that meant to me. You trusted me. No one ever trusts me.

Don’t come for me, Yas.

It isn’t safe. And you’re not strong enough.

I’m sorry.

I love you, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry and I love you.

Don’t

—

The rustle of the forest is like whispers; ominous, cruel, and taunting. So similar to his twin. Nelsy could be a forest, undefinable by map with too many paths that wind to no true destination. Nowhere authentically safe. She was scary and unknowable and cold—and so is Yasiel. Standing on the overpass that leads to Silent Hill, the wind sending murmurs through the leaves, cutting the bare skin of his high, freckled cheekbones.

He's fucking cold.

Yasiel’s lighter clicks a few times before it finally sparks and washes his light brown face in ambers and reds. The flame flickers a few times and threatens to go out before it can complete its simple job of lighting the cigarette dangling between his lips. The nicotine doesn’t warm him up, but it soothes a thrumming nerve inside him. An anxiety that can’t ever truly calm.

Don’t come for me, Yas.

His head tilts back, smoke pluming above him from parted lips. The sky above is cottony with roiling clouds, dark and fat on rain that hasn’t shed yet. Mouse had picked a perfect time to disappear; she always knew he hated fall. The slow death to winter. A season that held too many bad memories for both of them. And he hates the fucking cold. His black denim jacket is all flash and no substance, made to make him look pretty but not offer any actual warmth.

Maybe being warm would just make him feel guilty anyway. What does he deserve, after all? What, indeed.

Yasiel stamps the cigarette out on the railing of the overpass, then flicks the butt out into nature, watching it fall down the steep ravine into the forest surrounding Silent Hill. Adverts online made it seem like a pretty little place, someone’s cozy small town getaway. Writers would book a motel room and finish their next big project, or dads would drag their families to move in and start new. The sheriff from a town over takes a new placement in Silent Hill and feels restless because people aren’t doing cocaine off each other in bathrooms and ending their night jacking cars.

There’s no seeing the town from this far away, but the road into town is shut down. Looks permanent, no less. A rusted gate is padlocked closed, a few plywood boards haphazardly strapped to it. People have dumped trash all around it, like the dumpster off to the side was a suggestion to ignore. Yasiel, if he were athletic like his sister, might have been able to vault over the fence.

Instead, he’s forced to leave his car and take the scenic trail.

According to the map he’d snagged from a rest stop a hundred miles prior, that route funnels directly into Silent Hill’s graveyard before opening up into town.

“My fucking luck,” he mutters aloud to no one but the haughty, laughing wind. Yas folds the map, tucks it into his back pocket along with his lighter.

Then he descends.

—

The fog only seems to thicken the closer Yasiel gets to Silent Hill, and with it a palpable sense of dread. What starts as a modest mist quickly turns into a heavy blanket—and the way forward becomes trickier and tricker. He stumbles over forest roots, slides down the path as it suddenly becomes a gravely hill. More than once, he slips and palms a tree beside him and comes away with a scrape on his hand. The sting follows him.

So does the growing frustration that simmers into fury.

A farm sits desolate beside the trail as it opens from forest into wide open dirt path. A rusted windmill creaks slowly in the wind, the shadow falling over him. The sun is barely able to peek through the grey fog, the heavyset clouds. The farm makes him feel uneasy. It reminds him of an empty airport at four in the morning, or a lot to a gas station where the OPEN light flickers nonstop where he’s the only car parked. He’s reminded of the stairwell in his apartment building, how it goes on and on and on forever as he stands at the top and stares down. It’s a place abandoned except for him.

Yasiel’s heartbeat is loud in his ears as he walks past the abandoned farm. His breathing is uneven and raspy and he can’t entirely blame it on the hike. Grass and dirt crunch underneath his sneakers but otherwise, there is no noise. The severe lack of it is almost loud. He pats down the inside pocket of his denim jacket, reminding himself of the inhaler kept there. It does little to comfort him.

He resolves to hate his sister a little harder as he finally finds the winding path to the graveyard. Flowers, dying of course, line the path like droopy used tissues. The gate is as worn down as everything else Yasiel has encountered, but the rusted chain that barely keeps the back entrance together is easily yanked off. He rubs the metallic dust from his hand onto his jeans, slipping in through the little opening he’s made.

A “Welcome to Silent Hill” sign would have been appreciated and yet all he has is the fog, the tombs like broken teeth burst from the ground and a dark silhouette just a few paces in front of him.

—

“Hello?”

The stranger whirls to face him and Yasiel regrets saying anything. He’s not sure what made him approach in the first place—herd mentality perhaps. The fear of being alone and spotting the singular other person he’s seen since the rest stop prior to entering Silent Hill’s radius.

Rusty and neglected, lonely and ignored.

Whoever they are, they’re angry. The word might not even justify it. Their jacket hood is up, but snakes of curly black hair peek from underneath it, framing his furious expression. Thick, dark brows pull in tight, creating a crease on their brown forehead. The stranger’s eyes are red rimmed and shiny, deep set with purpling bruises underneath them. His lip curls up, revealing teeth in a snarling expression.

Yasiel instinctively steps back.

“You from this fuckin’ town?”

“What? No, I—”

“Is this a joke? Some dickhead havin’ a proper fuckin’ laugh at me, then? Who did this?” The graveyard stranger throws a hand toward the tombstone he’d been standing in front of. Yasiel only realizes then that there is a hole in the ground, coffin shaped and six feet deep. A plot freshly dug for a burial. Nausea wells in his stomach.

“Man, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about! I don’t live here, I just—I just got here. I’m looking for—” He cuts off as the stranger’s face flickers with fear and pain and then lastly, worry. All three mingle into something devastating before it’s wiped clean, flat and apprehensive.

Yasiel looks at the tombstone once more. There doesn’t seem to be anything else he can do.

XAVIER WOLFFE

1996 – 2024

ARE YOU GOING TO STOP IT, BENJI?

YOU SHOULD TRY, IT MIGHT BE FUN!

A booted foot kicks out, striking the tombstone and sending it falling backward, the sound of marble slapping on loamy soil a wet smack. Yasiel flinches, taking a sidestep from the man—from Benji? He’s shorter, but broad and his hands, clenched at his sides, shake with unrepentant fury. There’s a glint of something gold at his neck, but Yasiel doesn’t look closer.

“Who is it?” he asks, taking another step away, cautious. Yasiel glances down into the grave to make sure it really is empty—there’s no dead body or even an empty casket, just a depression in the dirt, man sized. The hairs along his arms and the ones at the back of his neck stand to attention. The fog rolls in on the two of them, no less heavy, no less dense. It’s day time and yet the ever present grey makes this graveyard feel like a bog.

Mouse had read Wuthering Heights to shreds, he remembers. Her paperback copy had fallen apart in her hands one night, as she sat bent over in bed, a pen behind her ear. She would have loved this graveyard, and this chilling stranger.

Benji—if that’s who he is—doesn’t answer the question. He stares down at the tombstone, a muscle in his jaw feathering. He looks like he hasn’t slept for days, his clothes rumpled. There’s a drawstring bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, listen,” Yasiel says quietly. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Who isn’t?” Benji snaps back, black eyes sliding upward to him. “I’m looking for him.”

“For—For Xavier?”

“He’s not dead if that’s what you’re thinkin’. Someone did this, someone fuckin’ sick and disgustin’ did this.”

Yasiel can’t place the man’s accent directly, besides distinctly British. His voice is rumbly, from the chest and deeply hurt. Words fracture a bit here and there, notably on dead and disgusting. Yasiel goes to ask another question—when’s the last time you saw him or where are you from—any semblance of polite socialization that might lead him down a path where he can ask about Mouse.

Instead, he sees another figure. Not that far from them, partially hidden by a statue of a crumbling angel. The mist in the graveyard has made it almost impossible to see anything other than the smattering of graves and Benji. It thins, only just barely. As though the graveyard wants them to see this.

Only, Yasiel doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to know. He steps back, eyes wide as the dark silhouette materializes little by little. Fear makes his veins cold, make his limbs feel limp and useless. His hand twitches to his lower back, underneath his jacket. He’s horrified at himself, at the sudden dread and terror that seems to be controlling his actions. So, his hand pauses.

That’s when the figure shambles forward.

“Xavier?” Benji asks, startled, his voice tipping high with hope. Dirt scatters into the open grave as he steps closer. Mist unravels around them. Yasiel’s hand shoots out and grabs him by the bicep, earning a dangerous look—he misses it entirely. Benji’s warning glare is wasted on him, because all Yasiel looks at is…is…it.

A distinctly canine jaw opens, mangled tongue lolling from its maw, high pitched whine splitting the otherwise silent graveyard. Drool pours from it’s mouth, mixing with dark, oily blood. The beast is shaped mostly man like; it stands on two long denim clad legs, nude lengthy pale torso tapered to wide shoulders, it’s arms behind it’s back cruelly bent and bound by slick wire. For a moment, a feeling of odd, misplaced sympathy cuts through the fear. It’s in pain, wolflike head rolling back and forth, nose snuffling the air, whimpering. It’s fur is dark auburn and shaggy.

“Xavier?” Benji repeats, his voice a horrified whisper.

The dog head snaps up, large white teeth gnashing together.

“Holy shit,” Yasiel whispers. Then screams as the beast charges toward him.

Everything happens too quickly. The breath is knocked from him as he collides with the ground—Yasiel raises an arm in defense, screaming wildly as an eyetooth catches on his wrist. The skin splits, fresh blood splattering across his denim jacket. Adrenaline is the only thing that keeps him from feeling the pain immediately. Yasiel kicks out his legs, flailing underneath the creature as it snaps its jaws open and close. Its wide open mouth smells like a dead thing, breath hot and foul. It snarls, lips curled back, snout wrinkled.

Then it squeals, spasming on top of Yasiel, who jerks out from under it. He rolls away on the grass, scrambling backward. There’s more blood on him. Dark and slick. This time, it belongs to the creature. Benji straddles it, with something wicked and glinting sharp in the grey filtered sunlight held aloft in his hand.

The doglike sounds of pain continue as Benji stabs, his own voice frantic and loud. Over and over, he plunges the—scalpel? The scalpel. Over and over until the wolf man is just twitching on the ground, bent at a horrible angle with it’s arms tied behind its back. Then slowly, it sighs out one last sound and—and it dies.

“Fuck!” Benji screams standing. He kicks, one final slam of his boot against pale flesh. “Fuck!”

Yasiel must say something too, but he isn’t sure what. It draws Benji’s attention, his focus sharp. And then he’s there, kneeling beside him, holding Yasiel’s hand, as his wrist continues bleeding. The wound is looked over with a clinical eye. It hasn’t started hurting yet; it only burns, like he’s gotten too close to campfire, like he’s laid out under the sun too long, like he’s fallen asleep in a car, baking in the backseat.

“Oh my God,” Yasiel whispers, realizing that it’s not the first time he’s said it. That maybe he’s been repeating it ever since the dog had been pulled off him and killed. His entire body shakes, a pit of cold opening in his chest. Yasiel’s vision is blurry until he realizes that his glasses had been knocked off. Awkwardly, he pulls himself away from Benji to pick them up. When he stands, he stumbles. His elbow is caught, steadying him enough to stand there without falling.

“Thank you,” he says, awe struck and dumb.

“Gonna faint?”

“No.”

“Y’sure?”

“No, I—What—what the fuck was that?”

Benji shakes his head. Yasiel didn’t expect him to know, and yet he still feels lost. Is this a dream? It can’t be. Oh God, it can’t be. He knows it isn’t and that’s worse. That makes it all so much worse. Reality catches up to him, the adrenaline dump draining; and then he’s doubling over, vomiting onto the blood stained grass. He heaves, hands on his knees, panting, stomach muscles clenching. He raises a shaky hand to stop his glasses from falling off once more.

“Can you get back then?”

“What?” Yas straightens slowly, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. The bile’s made his lips burn. He almost registers that more than the slash on his wrist, even as the blood clots and dries.

“Up the way you came, yeah? Trail in the woods leads to the road, right?”

“Yes. Yeah, it does.”

“Can you get back?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not leaving this fucking place without my husband,” Benji points into the fog. Into Silent Hill. His hand trembles, but his expression is hard and final. Yasiel can still taste vomit in his mouth, the bitter tang of it on the back of his tongue. He looks down at his hand, where blood has pooled into his palm, into the creases. His life line, his love line, the identical match to his sisters.

It isn’t safe. And you’re not strong enough.

“Let me come with you,” Yasiel pleads, stumbling toward Benji, hands upraised. The scalpels been cleaned on his jeans, making it shine in the dull fog once more. Benji’s hand tightens around it, tendons standing out starkly. Yasiel doesn’t even flinch. He can’t afford to be afraid, but he is. He is so afraid. “My sister is here. I’m looking for her—I have to find her. I’m not leaving, either.”

Wherever she is. Yasiel thinks of the dead wolf man creature on the ground, blood soaking into the dirt and a spasm of fear tightens his chest. His heart turns over wildly. Half of him is out there, in this town, with these things.

“You don’t get in my way of finding him,” Benji says calmly, slowly. The scalpel disappears into a pocket. He pulls his hood back, letting tangles of black curls free. The subtle graveyard wind shifts around them, tickling exposed skin, laughing in their ears. “Then, c’mon.”

—

They don’t encounter another creature—they don’t encounter anything at all. No people, no remains of them either. Just emptiness; cars parked with nothing in them, flyers and newspapers scattering empty roads. Everything is covered in layers of grime, as if Silent Hill stopped being a town a decade ago, frozen in time but not immune to decay.

Which doesn’t make sense because Mouse had been here just last year. Yasiel had dropped her off at the train, watched her go, and then picked her back up just a week later. Silent Hill had existed back then, as a town full of people and life—a hotel to stay in, doctors and nurses and medication and a little diner that she took pictures of. Mouse had even charmed her way onto someone’s tug boat for a ride on the lake. Like it was a vacation, a holiday stay, instead of a sleep study to solve her night terrors.

“Why did your husband come here?” Yasiel asks, breaking the long, cautious silence that’s crept up on them. They walk down an empty street, the fog everlasting and obscuring anything not ten feet in front of them. He’s anxiously straining to hear anything that might resemble a dog. Whining, barking, that terrible sniffing. But it’s just been his own heavy breathing.

“You wanna chat right now?” Benji throws Yasiel an incredulous stare, a pinch between his brows. “More of those fuckin’ things could be out here.”

Yasiel stays quiet for a moment, observing the abandoned street. They pass storefronts, equally empty or boarded shut. Some of them have broken windows, glass scattering the sidewalk. A chill makes him bundle into his denim jacket further.

Then he finally clears his throat and says, “You called it Xavier?”

“Listen, dickhead.” Benji rounds toward Yasiel. His face pales and his hand reaches out, jerking the slender painter by his jacket. Yasiel stumbles, feeling Benji’s body heat suddenly; the clarity that he is a real, living person. “More of ‘em. Like I said. Down the alley.” A tremor runs up Yasiel’s spine, sweat pooling under his arms. He dares to look sideways, shaking so bad even his glasses slide down the tip of his nose.

And Benji’s right. There are more of them, these half human dog wolf things. A bundle of them down a decrepit alleyway, a dumpster overturned, ancient trash piled everywhere alongside cardboard boxes, a rusted shopping cart. Two of the wolves fight each other, arms bound, snapping their maws, catching delicate pale skin and rending flesh. Without balance, they fall on each other, on the ground, tangling and fighting still. They howl and yip and snarl and bark madly, while three stand around them, watching. The bystanders cackle, fangs dripping spit and blood. They laugh, like hyenas, heads rolling back and forth, unhinged.

Yasiel slaps a hand over his mouth to stop a whimper.

“We’re gonna cut this way, alright?” Benji’s voice is close. Real. Real person, really alive. “Slowly. Goin’ for the diner behind us.”

Mouse’s diner. For a moment, he thinks of the picture she’d sent him of the burger she’d ordered. Stacked with the works, as she liked it, thick cut fries and her mayonnaise and ketchup mixture on a side plate. Yasiel wants to cry. He wants to burst into tears and run away screaming, he wants to pretend this isn’t happening. The dogs scream down the alley. Benji’s hand tightens on his jacket.

Yasiel looks over his shoulder. The neon light—Diner 52—miraculously flickers. The glass windows are intact. One single car sits parallel parked outside of it, door open and almost off its hinges. His tongue is dry in his mouth, awkward and fat. He nods once and Benji slowly eases himself off the sidewalk.

The dog wolves never pay them any attention. They kill each other in the alleyway, laughing and barking.

—

The diner tables are dusty, as is the bar where residents must have sat and drank milkshakes and asked a waitress named Marge for the “slamming special” as it’s called on the crumbling menu board. The floor is dirt caked, but the inside of the diner feels oddly safe. Secluded, almost. Respite from whatever is happening outside, with the monsters. Yasiel sits himself down on a stool, peeling his jacket sleeve back to look at his…bite wound.

“Lemme see.”

Benji slings his bag up onto the counter and begins to rifle through it. He’s handsome, despite the anger and the hostility. He has a curved nose and thick facial hair, the kind that looks soft to the touch. When he pushes his black curls from his face, the effect is downright astounding. Lucky bastard, Yasiel thinks of Xavier, then immediately feels guilty for it. Not really time or place, but he’d never been very good at that.

Slut. Mouse’s voice, affectionate and teasing. Her needling fingers tickling his sides, laughing while they smoke on his balcony. Get it out the gutter, Yassy. She’d hated his last girlfriend and loved his last boyfriend and declared herself free from accusations of misogyny anyway. He just simply had bad taste fifty percent of the time, and fifty percent of the time he’d be dating a woman. Yasiel closes a hand over his mouth again, when his throat thickens with the feeling of tears.

He holds his arm outstretched.

Benji’s poured something onto gauze, a little white kit open in front of him.

“Are you a nurse?” He grunts in reply as he begins cleaning the small gash on Yasiel’s arm. The rubbing alcohol burns so bad he flinches, earning a severely annoyed look. “Kind of a pussy, if you haven’t noticed.” It softens Benji’s expression. He snorts out what must be a laugh and reaches for his supplies.

“S’how I met ‘im.” The wound gets dressed tightly. Benji’s efficient, but his movements slow. His eyes stray to the side. “Poor fucking boy got a concussion playing hockey. Came in to the ER and was on my chart. When I was pokin’ him with the IV, he asked to marry me. Was fucking stunned out my mind. Couldn’t really do anything but laugh. Then he got all teary eyed with it. Told me if I gave him my number, we’d end up married someday.”

“Wow.” Yasiel lets his hands fall between his knees. He realizes he’s smiling, but doesn’t feel like trying to stop himself. Benji’s eyes narrow, a nasty smelling sanitizer rubbed between his hands as a poor mans bath.

“Don’t really tell that story,” he admits quietly.

“Guess I have the sort of face that invites honesty.”

Benji’s nose wrinkles, face screwing up as if he can’t tell whether or not Yasiel is joking. He is, for what it’s worth, but Benji still snorts again and says, “You really don’t, mate.”

They lapse into silence. Not long enough either of them can adjust to the insanity of their situation. Yasiel suddenly pulls his cell phone from his pocket. He has no service and he didn’t expect to either—this wouldn’t be a nightmare if he could just call 911 and be done with it all. Still, seeing the NO SERVICE at the top of the screen, where his battery symbol waits at 75% makes his heart plunge.

“This is my sister,” Yasiel says, handing over the phone. On screen, Mouse smiles in her knife like way. They have the same eyes, same heterochromia. One brown, one a green hazel that looks brighter under direct sunlight. She sits on the beach, her knees tucked to her chest, one of Yasiel’s baseball caps backwards on her head. Waves of her wild, brown hair are sea salt tangled. He can’t think of a picture that describes her better. And he can’t look at it as Benji does.

“You’re twins.”

“Oh, yeah,” Yasiel replies, locking the phone and tucking it back into his pocket beside his inhaler. “Down to the eyes and everything. When we were little, people would get us confused all the time. We’re uh, nothing alike in personality.”

“Feel like I know her,” Benji murmurs, his eyes on the floor. “The picture of her. Just felt familiar, that.” Finally, his hand pats his back pocket. First, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lazily lighting on. Yasiel wants to point out that they’re inside, but realizes how stupid that is. Then, Benji finds his wallet and flips it open.

There’s something sweet about him having a polaroid tucked in with a few bills and a receipt. They’re perfect strangers, yet Yasiel feels like that makes sense. Benji holds it for a second, as though unwilling for it to leave his possession even for a moment. Then finally, he holds it out, taking a long drag on his cigarette and looking away.

Yasiel’s heart betrays him and he thinks of the gravesite. The tombstone. He looks down at the picture and wonders if this man is actually dead and Benji is insane—but that would make two of them probably. They both saw those dogs. Yasiel grits his teeth, breathes evenly through his nose, and forces himself to look at the picture and think—alive. Missing. Just like Mouse. Needs to be found. Loved. So loved.

And he is, if the picture indicates anything. Benji has a subdued sort of smile, his eyes purely on Xavier. The photo is of both of them, sitting in a bar, with low lighting and pints of half drank beer on their table. A pale, tattooed hand peeks into the photo, holds fingers behind Benji’s head, in a mockery of bunny ears. Xavier takes up most of the frame, this giant, lanky red head, who is smiling ear to ear. He has an arm slung around Benji’s shoulders, pulling them together close. He is so traditionally handsome that it seems fake, for someone to be that pretty.

Yasiel thinks of the wolf thing, half human. Pale, with its shaggy oxblood fur. He forces the image away, commits Xavier to memory instead.

“I think I know what you mean,” he says, handing the photo back. Benji takes another hard drag on his cigarette, flicking ash onto the already dirty tile floor. The smell of nicotine is oddly comforting. “I mean, he sort of has one of those smiles, but—feels like I know him. Like we’ve met before.”

He’s about to ask what made Xavier come here. Why would anyone come here? Why had Mouse? But it used to be a town before, used to be a real place, where people got hamburgers with all the toppings, and took tugboat rides on the lake. It used to be. But right as he’s about to ask, an old fashion radio crackles to life down the counter.

“The fuck?” Benji startles off the stool, standing in front of it. His cigarette drops to the ground, cherry burning. Something old fashioned, classical plays from the staticky speakers. Crooning and lullaby like, a piano melody that makes Yasiel’s temples throb. He presses the heels of his palms to the sides of his head, groaning for a moment.

Then a voice, clear and direct.

“Listeners, are you out there?”

It’s a soft voice. Spoken with deliberate care and enunciation. As melodic as the music, as distinct and otherworldly.

“What is this?” Yasiel mumbles, stepping closer. He drags the radio closer. Dust puffs into the air around it, leaves an almost clean streak across the counter. The dial lights up, flickering with the radio waves. Something old and show tune like plays beneath the voice. Benji crowds in closer, a nervous look over his shoulder to the windows still blanketed in grime and fog.

“This is your host, Lethe, and tonight I’ll be your guide. Are you out there? Are you listening? No ad breaks tonight, darling. I’m here for you, if you’re here to listen.”

Yasiel fumbles for the map in his pocket, yanking it free and spreading it across the counter in front of him. He trails an ink stained finger until he finds SILENT HILL RADIO TOWER. It’s not close.

“I know it’s hairy out there right now, listeners. Trust me, I know.”

The voice is dry, doesn’t chuckle, but the laughter is nearly implied. Benji and Yasiel share a look toward each other, a mixture of shock, revulsion, and an eerie sense of hope. Someone else in the town. Someone else who knows about the monsters.

“Things have gotten spooky in our lovely Silent Hill. But I want to help you—you want my help, don’t you?”

“Who is this fucking loon?” Benji asks, voice quivering. Yasiel’s fingers scramble over the radio, turning it up a fraction. His heart slams against his rib cage, working up his throat. What a beautiful voice, he thinks, his head fuzzy and aching. “What you doin’?”

“Note down these roads for me, listeners. They’re the bad ones you don’t want to get lost down. Avoid them and follow the posters. The Radio Tower is open, and the call line is on. You have me all night. Do you hear that? All night.”

The radio crackles. Yasiel leans in. He swears if he gets close enough, he hears something else. He hears the radio jockey—he hears Lethe—saying his name. Do you hear that? All night, Yasiel. A series of streets follow in staccato rhythm. He yanks a pen from his back pocket, a trusty friend he’s never without, and hastily slashes out roads as Lethe lists them out.

“Are you listening?”

“Yes,” Yasiel whispers, staring at the map.

“See you soon.” Yasiel.

The radio crackles to dead silence.

“I know what to do,” Yasiel says, turning to Benji, holding up the map. His shaking finger stabs at the Silent Hill radio tower.

“Alright, mate, no offense—you got off to a lunatic on a radio with a smooth voice, and I’m not here to judge, even if m’judgin’ a bit, yeah—”

“No! Shut up!” Yasiel shakes out the map again, bumping their shoulders together, forcing Benji to look. He grunts in disapproval, moves just a bit so their arms are no longer touching. “If this person—this, Lethe—is playing on the radio, we can get them to broadcast something. Do you get me?”

A flicker of understanding plays across Benji’s face. He rears back, staring at Yasiel with wide eyes. A stray curl falls across his forehead. There’s blood on the underside of his jaw, from the thing he’d killed earlier.

“If—” Yasiel starts and then stops and stares at this stranger. Someone he hardly knows, has only just met, has been saved by once. He licks his lips and nods toward the radio.

“If you ask Xavier to come, will he?”

“Yes,” Benji answers with no hesitation. His jaw flexes, tightening, nostrils flaring. He looks to the ground, where the cherry of his cigarette slowly dies, smoke curling in the air.

“Yes. Always.”

—

Alright, listener. Don’t lose me. Everything’s too easy to lose in Silent Hill if you’re not careful—and you are careful, aren’t you? With your possessions and your people.

Are you shocked I know so much? Don’t be. You’ll find out more about me too. We’ll never be on an even playing ground, you and I, but we can get close. If you’d like.

I’m going to help you out of here, but you have to be careful. Have to listen, understand? Don’t trust anyone else. Not even yourself. You know that already, don’t you?

Never have been good with trust. If I say I’m honored to have yours, would it be inaccurate to imagine you blushing? Too far, listener? I understand, but you’ll forgive me. I’m going to be with you through it all.

Why?

You shouldn’t ask those kinds of things.

You’re going to remember soon enough and then you might turn this station off. Things are easy to lose in Silent Hill, after all.

I don’t want to lose you just yet.

#writing #ym #bp #lk #silent hill au #: )#alternate title for the fall prompts: a diner visit

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trick-r-treat421 · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 3

Riley’s POV:

It had been a few days since the run in at the grocery store and my mind loved being a cruel bitch, randomly repeating Noah’s last words in my head. “It’d be more than a few inches, darlin.” My cheeks now sported a slight pinkish hue as I played it over in my mind while I sat in my oversized chair, legs folded underneath me, a book in my hand that I was failing miserably at concentrating on.

The sad truth is it had been way to long and I needed to get laid… or maybe a new toy would suffice. Maybe then my mind wouldn’t be wandering back to his words, his handsome face, or his amazing, tattooed body every chance it got.

Frustrated, I set my book aside and dug the palms of my hands into my eyes. I didn’t like that he had this kind of effect. I didn’t even know him!

I’ve done well on my own for the last while, avoiding getting involved with anyone. I’m an independent bad bitch who handles her own! So why did I keep thinking about him? Why did I keep wondering if I’d see him again?

As if on cue my phone vibrated beside me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I reach over to grab it, fully expecting an email notification or something silly along those lines. My breath hitched when my lock screen showed a text message from Noah. I swear he must have a spidey or sixth sense when it came to me or something.

After staring at my screen for a good minute or two I let out a long breath, swiping across the screen and opening his text.

Hey Ry, thanks again for your recommendation the other night. They were a big hit with Folio.

A smile crept across my face as I rolled my eyes and typed back my reply.

Oh, already to the nickname phase, are we? Glad your friend liked them, even if he ruined them with potato chips. 🤮

He responds with a laughing face emoji, and I assume the conversation is over. There’s nothing more to say, right?

I continued my evening with dinner and some Hades cuddles while we lounged on my bed watching reruns on tv. Eventually I was lulled to sleep by Hades’ warmth and the background noise coming from the tv.

The next morning I’m jarred from my sleep by the alarm on my phone blaring through the room. I reach over yanking it from the charger, hitting the stop button, and dropping it in my lap. I yawn as I rub the sleep from my eyes. Groaning, I stretch my arms up towards the ceiling, feeling a little stiff from the position I fell asleep in when my phone lights up alerting me of a notification.

Thinking nothing of it and still in my sleepy state I pick it up, opening the screen to two new texts from Noah.

So… any chance you’d want to meet up this weekend?

Maybe for coffee or ice cream?

The phone drops from my hands as I read over it a second time. Is he really asking me out? Like on a date!? I look at the time stamps, the first came through a few hours after our brief chat, the second about twenty minutes later.

My anxiety riddled overthinking brain needs clarification. Quickly I grab it up and type out a message.

Like as in a date?

What if he changes his mind now? I took forever to respond after all. Maybe he thinks I’m a bitch and ignored him. What if he lost interest? Wait… am I even interested!?

I’m clutching the phone, my mind racing a mile a minute, when I see the typing bubble pop up.

Well, yeah. Unless you’re already in a relationship or something.

Shit… FUCK! I wasn’t expecting a reply so fast. I’m still staring at the messages when Hades walks in. The traitor must have left me when I started tossing and turning in my ever-restless sleep. His ears perk up and he sets his big ole head on the edge of my bed tilting it to the side, ears perked up, watching as my hands fidget in my lap and I chew on my lip.

“What do I do?” I ask, looking over at my only companion before falling back onto my pillow and staring at the ceiling.

Hades gently nudges my hand with his wet nose, whining. When I don’t move, he jumps up onto the bed laying by my side and resting his head on my chest watching me with his best big puppy dog eyes. I don’t know how he always picks up on it, but he knows I’ve been feeling lonely lately. Looking into those big gold eyes it’s as if he’s pleading for me to give this a chance, pleading for me to just say yes.

I let out a loud sigh as I pull a pillow over my face to let out a muffled scream. At this rate I’m going to be late as hell to work but I can’t bring myself to get up when my thoughts are in such a jumble.

Noah’s POV:

It’d been a busy few days but thoughts of Riley kept finding their way into my head. The shocked expression at the end of our little encounter at the store. Those piercing eyes against her jet black hair. Everything. After closing shop I decided to shoot Riley a text.

Hey Ry, thanks again for your recommendation the other night. They were a big hit with Folio.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket as I slide into my ’67 Ford Mustang Fastback.

Oh, already to the nickname phase, are we? Glad your friend liked them, even if he ruined them with potato chips. 🤮

I chuckled at her message, shaking my head and sending back a laughing emoji. I pocketed my phone once again before turning the key in the ignition and having that magnificent V8 roar to life. Peeling out of the garage, I left my friends in the dust racing to see who would arrive home first.

A few hours later and a drink or two deep I had gained some liquid courage and decided to text Riley again.

So… any chance you’d want to meet up this weekend?

I hit send before I could convince myself otherwise. Staring at my phone, I waited for a reply. As the minutes ticked by, I became increasingly antsy. Finishing off another drink I wondered if I’d freaked her out. Maybe I should send something else.

Maybe for coffee or ice cream?

Hitting the send button again I waited. After what seemed like an eternity, I called it a night. As I lay in bed, I berated myself for how worked up I was allowing myself to get. Why did this girl have such a hold on me. Running a hand down my face I sighed before turning out my lamp and drifting to sleep.

The next morning in a half-awake state I heard the alert notifying me of a new text. Rolling over I glance at it with one eye open. It was Riley, she responded.

Like as in a date?

A goofy grin spreads across my face as I imagine her bewilderment. Then a thought creeps in, what if she’s already with someone else and my smile falters.

Well, yeah. Unless you’re already in a relationship or something.

After shooting her that last text I roll out of bed and begin preparing myself for work. I’m standing in the shared bathroom brushing my teeth when her next text comes through.

Oh, no. I’m not in a relationship. And I do like ice cream.

I type back a response with one hand as I work the toothbrush around my mouth in small circles, got to keep this million-dollar smile looking good.

I know an awesome ice cream shop if that’s a yes.

Before I could set my phone down it vibrated in my hand.

It’s a yes.

A cocky toothy smile forms as the toothbrush hangs from my mouth, some toothpaste dribbling down my chin as I stare at my reflection. I’ve still got it!

Good. 😏 How about Saturday?

Again, not a super long chapter but we're building up to the good stuff. Hope you enjoyed this and thanks for reading! 🖤

Tag List:

@lma1986, @badomensls, @dominuslunae

#fanfic #fan fiction #the worst in me #bad omens #noah sebastian #slow burn #strangers to lovers

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brighteststar707 · 1 year ago

Note

I don't usually message ppl off of anon but I thought it'd be fun to participate. 👉👈👀💦 Can I take ruby chocolate with Saeyoung and a fem MC and basically have some warm domestic fluff where they're trying to get used to being together? could be suggestive or not, up to you.

Amy! I'm so happy you decided to come off anon and join! Thank you for the request!

Listen... I don't know what happened here. I had an idea in my head, and suddenly it was 2k+ words. Just be warned. I tried to make it as fluffy and domestic as possible, so I hope I captured the vibes!

Slots are still open for the milestone event!

✧ Ruby Chocolate ~ Showing physical affection

Saeyoung lies in bed, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars he pasted up on the ceiling a lifetime ago. Beside him, his partner lies sleeping. She fell asleep an hour (maybe more) ago, and he has been listening to her slow, steady breaths for a while now.

He has always had trouble sleeping. His anxiety, left over from years of having to be alert at all hours of the day, keeps him up at night. Even the reassurance that the two people he loves most are safe isn’t always enough to calm him down. Sometimes, his thoughts just keep running. It leaves him restless and antsy, desperate to get up and do something about it.

He sighs and shifts over to lie on his side. If he tried, he could just about make out his girlfriend’s form in the dark. They’re close, but not touching, but even if they were, she’d still be worlds away. It’s a strange thing to think, but he misses her. Nights like this leave him feeling like the only person in the world.

Tonight, he can’t help but watch her, the steady rising and falling of her chest. She only moved in a month ago, so having her here next to him is still a novelty. So many things are still new to them.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Saeyoung spent the first two weeks of his relationship believing that he might never get to see the future he had been dreaming up. He was wired to believe that every day might be his last, and if this mission to save Saeran was the most important one of his life, then why wouldn’t it be the one to kill him? The life he was hoping for was one he didn’t deserve, after all (though he never said this part out loud).

It’s a strange way to live, when you’re unsure if you’ll still be alive in a week. Stranger still when you’re experiencing real love for the first time. All the hesitation and awkwardness that usually come with new love were pushed aside, because he was certain his days were numbered. Why would he wait to confess to her how deeply he cares for her? Why would they not kiss when they want to? It was now or never.

The physical boundaries between them quickly eroded after they left the apartment together. There was rarely a moment in the next week where they weren’t touching . He rested his hand on her thigh as he drove for hours on end, she would curl up next to him while he was working, they’d pull each other closer as they drifted off to sleep.

It surprised him how quickly he got used to this familiarity. He had spent so much time by himself, isolated from the world, that he had never imagined being able to keep someone so close to him. They felt like extensions of each other, not made to be separated now that they had finally found one another.

It wasn’t just physical closeness, either. They bared their souls to one other and shared their secrets and fears with one another. He was open about his feelings for her, and she seemed to understand him almost better than he understood himself.

She always seemed to be able to read him so easily. It was a surprisingly comfortable feeling, to be known by her.

When he woke up in the hospital after the events that happened at Mint Eye and found her sitting by his bedside, it felt like a divine gift. He had survived this mission and been given the chance to deliver on all the promises he made. He’d actually be allowed to get more than just a few days with the person he loved. If he was lucky, he’d get a lifetime.

If the first days had felt like a whirlwind, the following months were agonizingly slow. He remembers a lot of hospital waiting rooms, frustrating conversations with doctors that never seemed to go anywhere, and painful silences in the bunker as he waited for Saeran to say something, anything.

He knew that his plan to break Saeran out of the hospital would mean a prolonged separation from his girlfriend, but he didn’t realize just how painful the distance would be. He found himself back in his office on most days, reminiscing the days where all he could do was wait for a text from her (and here he was again, still waiting on her texts).

They both knew it was worth it. Saeran’s recovery was their top priority, the first step to building up their family. It didn’t make it any easier, though. For a while, all they could manage was talking over the phone. They’d remind each other that this was the road to a future that they both wanted. They just had to get through this part.

When he let himself fantasize about a time when they could be together again, he thought back to those early days. Hunger for closeness and the comfort that only physical touch could bring. His arm over her shoulders, her hands in his hair, the softness of her skin. He craved her.

Imagine his surprise when they finally reunited and he found himself tongue tied. He wanted to reach for her, to hug her tight and never let go, but he could barely reach out to hold her hand. The time they spent apart seemed to have manifested in a physical distance between the two of them that neither of them knew exactly how to breach. The familiarity they had built up in their days on the road was something they seemed to have lost.

When they tried to talk to each other, their sentences came out stilted. He could hear the things they were trying to say between the lines, the things they actually meant under all the pleasantries and vague comments, but it was caught in their throats. Their conversations consisted of more words unsaid than anything meaningful.

It was ridiculous to him. They were in love, had already promised each other the world, already gone through all the steps that other couples had gone through, only to land back at square one.

How had he once been able to be so emotionally vulnerable with her? Now he can barely find the words to tell her that her absence has felt like a missing limb. That he still wakes up from nightmares scared that she's hurt.

He started to worry that they were moving backwards instead of forwards. All this time apart wasn’t doing them any good. He decided that, as soon as he got Saeran’s blessing, he would ask her to move in with them. Sharing the same space again, going through the process of healing from the things they had been through together instead of apart would bridge that distance that had built up during their separation, or so he hoped.

The bunker had been empty for so long, that two extra inhabitants made it feel bustling (even when Saeran didn’t leave his room very often). He was still surprised by the sight of her just relaxing in the living room or working on something at her own desk. She was here with him, in this house that has so often felt like an isolation cell. With both her and Saeran living here with him, it had slowly turned into a home without him even realizing it.

Slowly, they started to find their way back to each other. One day, while sitting on the sofa with a book, she found him hovering at the doorway to the living room, unsure whether to enter and interrupt her or just let her enjoy her time. She smiled at him affectionately and beckoned him over to her. He joined her on the sofa (not close enough for them to touch, he thought with frustration), and smiled sheepishly.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” he said, eyes going to the book sitting forgotten on her lap.

“So you decided that hanging out at the door like a creeper was the best option?” She asks teasingly.

He doesn’t have an answer for her. He can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, as it has been doing so often since they reunited. He could have sworn he wasn’t this easily embarrassed around her before (and she’d disagree with him). He laughs bashfully and his hand shoots to the back of his neck. “I… guess?”

She shakes her head in mock disapproval, “I thought you were more discreet than that, agent.”

“So what are you reading?” If he changes the subject, maybe she’ll stop teasing him and he’ll be able to think clearly again.

“It’s an old favourite. Want to hear about it?”

“Of course.”

“Then – “ she clumsily gestures to the empty space next to her. “Come here. You’re too far away.”

He laughs properly this time. There couldn’t’ be a more apt description of their current situation. At her invitation, he shuffles over so he’s resting against her. She runs her fingers through his hair, probably trying to smooth out the stubborn bits that never seem to want to lay flat. It’s a familiar gesture, one that immediately puts him at ease.

Before he can stop it, he says, “I missed you.”

She presses a quick kiss to his hairline. “Me too.”

It got easier from then on. They’d seek each other out in each other’s spaces, and soon they were automatically making room for each other. The conversation flowed more easily, and they started to reach for each other like it was second nature.

He’d find her in the kitchen, and wrap his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. He’d laugh when she shivered at the feeling of his breath against her ear and ask her for a taste of whatever she was making.

She’d join him in his office, first pulling up a spare chair (one that had once been Vanderwoods), then slipping onto his lap at his invitation.

Like blood returning to a limb gone to sleep, they fell back into sync with each other. It felt natural, right.

If he asked her to describe what it was like to live with him after a month, she’d say he was like a clingy cat, which is a metaphor she thinks he’d appreciate if she ever told it to him.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Eventually, he gives in and gets out of bed. He swears to himself he’ll just tinker for a few hours to settle his mind, maybe play a round of LOLOL with Yoosung if he’s still up, then go back to bed. She won’t even notice. He’ll be back in bed before morning, in time to be with her again by the time she wakes up.

In his office, he pulls out plans he had started working on for upgrades to his front gate. He has a lot more to protect in the bunker now than he ever had, and he has been overflowing with ideas on how to keep the place safe.

He isn’t even aware of how much time passes as he works, alternating between plans and little bits he already has started. In fact, he’s so focused on his work that at first, he doesn’t hear the door to his office opening.

What he does hear is the shuffling of bare feet as she enters the room, dressed in just an old t-shirt of his and a blanket pulled over her shoulders.

“Sunshine! What are you doing awake?”

“You were gone,” she replies. Her eyes are squinting against the light of his screens and her voice sounds groggy. He is hit with an ache in his chest. He woke her up after all.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “come here.”

He holds out his arms to her and she pads across the room to join him. She settles on his lap, straddling him so they sit face to face. His hands automatically go to her waist to hold her steady. She wraps the ends of her blanket over his shoulders so they can share warmth.

“Why are you up?” She asks.

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d work until my mind shut off; you know?” He phrases it like a joke, but she knows there is truth under it. She knows it better than anyone. On nights where he does manage to quickly fall asleep, she tells him that he mutters incoherent sentences under his breath and can't lie still.

“Hmm,” she stifles a yawn, “what are you working on?”

“Security stuff, mostly,” he wants to explain it further, but with her so close, he finds his mind wandering from his work. He thinks instead about the warmth of her body so close to his, the way her fingers are absentmindedly tracing little shapes across his upper back over where she’s holding the blanket. How a few weeks ago it was difficult to hold each other’s hands and now they can be this close again. How he wants to be closer.

She must notice something shift in his expression (she always does) because instead of pushing for him to explain further as she usually would, she dips her head down to press a kiss to the base of his neck. He shivers, despite the warmth.

He can’t for the life of him imagine why he ever got out of bed. She continues to press soft kisses to his neck, and his hands move from her waist to her bare thighs.

Breath warm against his skin, she says, “maybe you can continue that tomorrow, what do you think? You can explain everything to me when I’m awake enough to understand it.”

He hums shortly, not trusting his voice with much else. All he knows is that he doesn’t want her to go back to bed without him. He moves to stand up from his chair, and her legs wrap around his torso.

Together, they return to bed.

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no-light-left-on · 11 months ago

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1k words of pure, self indulgent corvosider fluff post-doto, early into their relationship

The mattress dips as Corvo crawls on the bed behind the Outsider – he does little as Corvo wraps an arm around his waist and presses a kiss to his hair, far too preoccupied with the text of the novel. He turns the page, smiling as Corvo presses closer, his broad chest against the Outsider’s back, and kisses down the back of his neck until he can bury his face into his shoulder. He pulls the Outsider closer until there is no space left, his hand large enough to cover his stomach, and he rubs little circles into his side. His hand does not stay long, though, restless as fingers catch on pearl buttons and the Outsider pauses.

Corvo’s hand dips under the silk fabric, trailing lower and lower until he reaches the belt.

“Corvo,” the Outsider says, somewhere between a plea and a warning as his hand shoots to Corvo’s. The hold around him eases and the Outsider curses himself as Corvo’s warmth gets further.

“I’m sorry.” Corvo rolls away, his weight no longer on top of the Outsider’s, though the Outsider is quick to follow as he rolls on his back to face him.

The Outsider kisses his shoulder, a chaste little peace offering. “No, no- it’s okay. No need to apologise.”

Still, Corvo remains tense, propped up on his elbow. There is too much distance between them now.

The Outsider reaches out, pressing his thumb between Corvo’s brows to smooth his wrinkles out. They sit heavy over his forehead, and while most would read them as the lord protector’s stern gaze, the Outsider knows them for what they are. Anxiety.

“You did nothing wrong,” he assures, but something else sits atop the worry. An old vulnerability of Corvo’s, and a new one, too.

“You’re always so skittish when we get physical,” Corvo states. He does not pose a question next, knows he doesn’t need to. The Outsider reads him like an open book.

Am I too old? Is it the age? Or is it me?

The Outsider cups his cheek, his beard prickling his palm, and as he brushes his thumb over an old scar on Corvo’s cheek, Corvo’s breath catches.

Are you repulsed by what you might find under?

The Outsider takes a deep breath, screws his eyes shut as he feels his stomach drop. His core feels like it is being swallowed by the Void as he speaks. “Corvo, I’m just not interested.”

He knows the words he chose were wrong the moment they leave his mouth.

“In me?” Corvo asks, tentative and cautious.

“In sex.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” Corvo says with all the eloquence of a noble and the father of the empress. The tension dissipates out of his muscles.

“Yeah.”

“At all?”

“At all.”

Corvo laughs, startled and relieved, then buries his face back in the Outsider’s shoulder.

“That was a horrid way to phrase it,” he mutters into the silks as the Outsider combs his fingers through his hair.

“I’ve never been known to speak with other people’s emotions in mind,” the Outsider says as an apology. It is not one, but it will do.

“One day you’ll be the death of me,” Corvo whispers.

“I am honoured that you wish to keep me around for that long.”

They fall silent, with Corvo’s head resting on the Outsider’s chest, lulled by the beating of his painfully human heart.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“What for?” the Outsider asks.

“For trying to get physical.” Corvo shifts, suddenly far too aware of the thinness of the Outsider’s shirt, of his own hand on his belly, their intertwined legs. “It didn’t even cross my mind that you-”

The Outsider catches his face, cupping both cheeks in his cold hands, their eyes meeting. “Corvo.” The sound of his name stops Corvo’s rambling, intent and captivating the same way it was during the bad old days at the shrines. “You didn’t know. I never told you. I didn’t even intend on telling you this soon. Most humans don’t feel this way, and you had no way of simply figuring it out, not with how close I let you. Please, do not feel bad.” He takes a deep breath. His stomach turns, empty yet heavy like he’s drank the cold water of the Wrenhaven. “This is- I do not know where to begin explaining this. But take it as… it is just another odd quirk of mine. I don’t know.”

“Mio,” Corvo coos. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“I feel like I have to,” the Outsider admits. “We both know that I am voidawful at this whole being human business. I only ever had the opportunity to watch, but there is so very little I remember of how to feel, and experience, and live, and all that I seem to do now is so very other to how humans have been for all those centuries I spent watching. And this is no different, I suppose. But this time it involves you, too.”

Corvo opens his mouth to argue, stops. “I don’t mind that you feel different about these things,” he settles on. “I’m just glad you told me.”

“I had to.” For you and for myself, both. The thought of it is too raw. The Outsider grins and instead says: “You always looked like a kicked pup when I smacked your hand away.”

Corvo gapes and the Outsider smiles wider.

“Or like a wolfhound that just got scolded for trying to eat without permission,” he teases.

“Mio-”

“Whenever I told you off you looked at me like a wolfhound begging for a piece of steak.”

“Mio!”

The Outsider bursts out laughing as blood rushes into Corvo’s cheeks. “Oh, feared Lord Protector, if only the nobles of Dunwall saw how easily you melt for me-” He yelps as Corvo buries his face into the crook of his neck, his beard prickling the tender skin, and the sensation makes him laugh harder. Corvo holds him down, pinning him into the pillows as the Outsider kicks out, struggling and giggling and pushing at Corvo’s shoulders as Corvo kisses the bare skin and nuzzles his collarbone.

This, he could get used to.

#dishonored #dh #corvosider #corvo attano #the outsider #writing #I am dumping all my weird complicated feelings on the outsider dont come after me I might cry #there was gonna be more but then I sidetracked by a ton #dont ask me what this is I have no idea #inspired by tags by icedjuiceboxes actually they got me thinking about expressing all these weirdass thoughts and feelings #anyways uh. yeah.#take this from me before i chicken out #whale song au #(technically)#writing tag

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casuallyimagining · 1 year ago

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When September Ends // epilogue.

Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Six years after leaving your home planet, you’re forced to confront your past… and the one you left behind. Word Count: 2,032 Genre: Star Wars au, friends to enemies to lovers, angst Warnings: minor character death, survivor's guilt, yoongi has anger issues, mentions of the death of an entire planet, anxiety, alcohol, reader character suffers from the burden of high expectations, mentions of torture (nothing explicit), mentions of needles, hospitalization, brief descriptions of scarring, brief descriptions of panic, hospitalization, an assassination attempt, a gun fight, murder

Notes: Thanks to @daechwitatamic and @the-boy-meets-evil for listening to me complain about this fic, helping me plan, and beta-ing for me; to @oddinary4bts for the late-game encouragement and edits.

Playlist: All of the poetry in this fic has been pulled from various songs and poems. You can find all the songs (and some others) in the playlist that I made for this fic on Spotify.

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Daybreak is barely visible above the towering skyscrapers. You can barely make out the golden haze of the rising sun through the buildings, but it’s there, greeting you as you stand and wait for the morning transport. You sway a little on your feet, still a little drowsy without finishing your caf. You grip the metal cup in your hand tighter and take a sip, just as your other hand is squeezed. You lean into him–gently, he kisses the side of your head, just below your temple–and together, you listen to the sounds of the city-planet waking up.

The thrum of morning traffic surrounds you, the engines of the speeders and transports that zip between the buildings a cacophony of high-pitched whines and low-toned hums. Your building is nowhere near the starports, there are no mechanical roars, no ear-splitting throbbing that is so typical of interplanetary, long-range ships. No, the largest craft in this sector of the planet are the public transports and the boxy cargo barges that float between shops and warehouses like bumbling pollinator nano-droids.

There’s a daycare in your building, somewhere on the floors that stretch above you, and you can hear the sounds of children, grumpy to be awake so early in the morning, sad that their parents have once again left them with their caretakers. You feel for them. You, also, would rather be home in bed right now.

Your transport arrives unceremoniously–no rush of wind, no honk of a horn, just a relatively quiet downshift of the motor and the hiss of doors opening. You step into the transport, your right hand trailing behind you, fingers laced loosely in the grasp of the man that follows.

It’s warmer in here than it was on the platform, the planet’s cold season just beginning to dig its claws in. And as you settle into a seat, you burrow your way into the man’s side to bask in his warmth, too. Yoongi chuckles softly and adjusts how he’s sitting so that you’re comfortable, and shifts his own caf to his other hand so that he can pull his datapad out of his bag.

His hand rests on your thigh, the caf he clutches is warm against your leg. He scrolls through the day’s news on his datapad, dark hair falling into his eyes as he reads. Normally, you’d read over his shoulder, humming when you were done and ready to move on to the next article. But today, you lean against him and look out the window.

You never thought you’d get used to living on Coruscant. Not least because the planet is just one large city, its surface covered from ground to what feels like the edge of space in endlessly tall buildings. But no, there’s something so different in the energies of the planets at the center of the galaxy. A kind of buzzing, restless energy that used to keep you up at night. Fest, though busy in its own right, was sleepy in comparison. And while you rarely got rest with the rebellion, your time there felt more like clawing your way back from the brink–desperate and hungry for something better.

Here, though, life is easy. You enjoy it. Maybe that’s what you’d been reacting to, all those years ago.

When Commander Vela had approached you with the prospect of heading up the Imperial records dump and moving to Coruscant, you’d fought him. You wanted to be in the field. You wanted to finish what you’d started–you wanted to squash the remains of the Empire. The Emperor was dead, but his followers were still out there. Eventually, he’d worn you down.

Or, more accurately–and more predictably–Yoongi had worn you down.

A safe place to land after a decade of interplanetary espionage was hard to pass up. A cushy job running a massive data library on a warm planet with any amenity you could dream of? You’d be an idiot to say no, he’d said. And how could you argue with that? Especially since he’d offered to come with you.

The transport slows outside of another building, and more people shuffle on. An older woman slides into the seat facing yours. Her dark skin is weathered and aged, but the most prominent lines on her face are on either side of her lips–such deep laugh lines have to indicate a long, happy life, right? She smiles at you warmly, her eyes drifting from you, to Yoongi, to where his hand rests on your thigh. Briefly, you wonder what she’s thinking, but you’re interrupted by Yoongi’s pinky rubbing against your knee.

“Gonna be another late night,” he mumbles, angling his datapad slightly so that you can see the message he’s reading. You don’t even have to get too far into the missive before you come to what he’s referring to. “Twenty standard years of data,” Yoongi reads, and already, he sounds exhausted.

He’s right, though. That data is getting transferred straight to you and your team. You sip your caf and sigh out, “Gonna need you to make me another one of these in like an hour.”

He laughs, dark eyes disappearing into happy crescents behind his glasses. “I can do that.” He leans in, lips brushing your hair quickly.

The old woman smiles, but you barely notice, your mind too preoccupied with the sudden influx of work now on your plate.

The hand on your shoulder scares you. You place your hand on your chest in a helpless attempt to calm your pounding heart. There’s a soft ‘sorry’, and a gentle kiss placed to the top of your head as Yoongi massages your shoulders.

“Take a break,” he mumbles, nose pressing into your hair. “Come eat.”

It’s cute. He’s learned not to tell you to walk away, to hang it up for the night. He’s grown since the Academy, where he would tell you to end your studies for the night. Now, he’s transitioned into convincing you to take breaks and eat meals. You suspect partially because it’s easier–a way to save both of your sanities.

You sigh, push yourself away from your desk, rub your eyes. You’ve been staring at your monitor and your datapad for what feels like hours. It probably actually has been hours, because you can’t see sunlight through the slatted windows in your office. Yoongi’s fingers press into a knot in your shoulder and you groan, head lolling forward a little.

“Come on,” he coos, pulling you to your feet. You groan from the effort, muscles stiff and aching now that you’re actually using them. He tugs you forward and you let yourself fall into his arms. He hums, arms tightening around you. “How far’d you make it?”

“Not far enough.” Your voice is muffled as you bury your face into his shoulder.

His hands skim up and down your back–his touch is feather-light, yet it leaves fire in its wake. It’s been four years, and still, a simple, gentle touch from him leaves your skin tingling and your heart fluttering. Perhaps you haven’t grown so much since your teenage years, after all.

“You’ve done well.”

Slowly, he walks you out of your office, arms still around you as he guides you into the library’s employee galley. It must be late. There’s no way he’d act like this if any of the rest of your team was still there.

“I sent everyone home,” he says as he pulls out a chair for you, answering a question you hadn’t even asked. “They were done, for the most part. I finished up for them and figured we could do the rest together.”

Your team is not large–just five people not including you or Yoongi–and you oversee and organize naval data taken from the Empire’s records. You have analysts, encryption experts, historians, sociologists. And what you don’t know, you all learn together. You love your team, but sometimes, when you get slammed like this and the sheer volume of incoming data overwhelms you, you forget about them. They’re self-sufficient, and you work like a well-oiled machine, and it’s easy to get absorbed into your own little bubble of analysis and reports.

And in those moments, among almost any other moment in your day, you’re grateful that Yoongi is there to take care of what you can’t.

You shoot him a look that you hope conveys everything you’re feeling. Bless you. You’re amazing. Thank you for picking up my slack when I can’t. All of it. More. He simply kisses the top of your head and hands you a container of warm food. It smells delicious, and immediately, you know it’s take-away from your favorite place in the north sector. You sigh.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He hums. “Not true.”

There are moments like these where you feel a little twinge of guilt, the ghosts of your past still there, haunting you from the corners of your memories. You haven’t forgotten the fact that you’d left, nor the tenseness of your first weeks reunited. But you’ve come so far since then. It’s hard to believe that five years ago, you’d been so venomous and cold to each other. Looking at him now, at the doofy, gooey, honey-warm look he’s giving you, it’s almost hard to believe the journey you’ve been on together.

When you’re done eating, you sit together on the library floor, surrounded by the stacks of digitized records and books. They cast a cool, blue glow over the room, and you open the shades on the window so you can look out across the city-planet. Aside from your offices, the library is one large room, with stacks and terminals to navigate the information contained within. It’s on the 115th floor of the building, housed among other New Republic offices and resources, so the view out the windows–though you rarely see it–is something to marvel at.

Below you lights twinkle and shine like stars. It’s strange. You can’t see the stars above. Between Fest and the stations and ships of the rebellion, you’d gotten so used to seeing the stars. But you don’t mind them being gone. Coruscant is a marvel, especially at night, and there’s a certain beauty in watching the lights of the speeders and delivery trucks that run ‘round the clock as they buzz and weave around and through the buildings. It’s raining, and the falling drops only serve to make the lights glisten more.

You’re tucked into Yoongi’s side once again, legs resting over his own. He has one arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him. His thumb traces small patterns into the meat of your arm. His other arm–his left arm–rests across your legs. He hasn’t said anything, but you’re sure it’s bothering him. Physically, he’s completely healed from your final run-in with Grafner, save for a small scar, an angry silver against his otherwise lightly golden skin, and the ache that comes when there’s a change in weather.

He’s staring out the window, watching the rain roll down the windows. You watch him, admire the softness in the curves of his face, his button nose, the fluffiness of his hair.

“Hey Yoon?” you breathe, finally breaking the silence of the moment. He hums, and it takes a brief second for him to pull his eyes away from the window to meet your own. Butterflies erupt, and your insides do an excited little flip-flop with the eye contact. “I love you.”

It’s not the first time you’ve said it–at this point, you’ve lost count–but the grin that spreads its way across his lips is just as shy and incredulous as it was back then. You can see the flush creep across his skin, a ruddy red-pink that blossoms up his neck and up to his ears. Usually, you might tease him about it, but today, you stay silent, instead reaching up to tuck an errant strand of dark hair behind his ear.

“I love you,” he repeats, leaning in to kiss your nose, then your forehead. He lingers there for a moment and he sighs, content. He pulls away slightly, lips finally meeting your own once, twice, three times. His eyes sparkle when they meet yours.

“What do we need to finish to go home?”

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so uh... that was the end. what do we think? I wanted to make sure we ended on a high note. I think mc and Yoongi deserve it after everything. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this and the entire fic! do we want more? I could see me coming back to this universe for some drabbles in the future. they're so much fun to write.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #suga x reader #suga #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #bts #bts au #star wars au #bts star wars au #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #suga fluff #suga angst #min yoongi fic #suga fic #bts fic #bts x reader

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