Summary: A typical morning between your girlfriend, who is hard to get out of bed and you, being the morning person.
Warnings: none, just fluff, grumpy x sunshine dynamic
Pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader
Word count: 1k
The sun had barely cleared the tops of the buildings outside when you stirred. The light was already beginning to peek through the half-open blinds, casting soft stripes across the room. You blinked sleep from your eyes, stretching slowly before rolling onto your side to face her. Natasha was still asleep, face half-buried in the pillow, red hair a mess across her back. She looked peaceful, which was incredible rare. You smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist, snuggling closer to her, chest pressed against her back. You stayed still, taking the scent of your girlfriend and tracing mindless patterns on her skin. You decided then to wake her up. You brushed a hair strand out of her face and whispered.
“Natty wake up. It’s morning.”
She didn’t move. You smiled a little.
Of course not.
So you tried again — this time brushing your lips lightly along the bare skin of her shoulder.
Natasha made a low sound of protest, something between a groan and a growl. She burrowed deeper into the pillow. “M’sleeping.”
“Time to wake up, sleeping beauty.”
Natashas eyes stay closed and she pulls the blanket over her head, trying to hold onto the last bit of sleep. “Thats the worst nickname you gave me this week.”
You laughed softly, nose scrunching as you moved closer, slipping your arm further around her waist. Her skin was warm under your touch, the kind of warmth that made it hard to leave the bed, but you weren’t interested in leaving. Not yet.
“Don’t blame me,” you murmured, lips brushing her shoulder again. “You’re the one who looks all soft and fairytale-ish when you sleep.”
A muffled groan came from under the blanket. “I kill people for a living.”
“And yet here you are, hiding under a blanket like a grumpy kitten.”
She didn’t answer, but you could tell she was smiling. Barely. Just a twitch at the corner of her mouth. That was the thing with Natasha. she didn’t give much away, but when you knew her like this, you didn’t need much to know everything.
You let your hand drift up her side, slow and light, tracing the slope of her waist to the curve of her ribs. “I will make coffee,” you whispered, kissing just below her ear.
No response.
“With cinnamon.”
Still no reaction.
“And I’m not wearing anything under this shirt.”
There was a pause, and then the blanket shifted. Her head emerged slowly from beneath the covers, red hair tousled, eyes heavy with sleep but fixed on you now. She blinked at you, half-dazed but clearly amused, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Her eyes drifted over your face, down to where the oversized shirt clung to your frame - just barely covering anything - and to the panties peeking out from beneath the blanket.
“You’re trouble,” she murmured, voice still gravelly with sleep, eyes darkened by something far more awake.
You grinned at reaction. “The kind you like.”
Natasha didn’t argue. Instead she reached out, fingers cool against your bare thigh as she pulled you closer. Your body temperature always differed. Cold and warm hands. Almost like a reflection of your opposite personalities. But somehow, you balanced each other out.
You went willingly, sliding one leg between hers as your bodies pressed together again, chest to chest.
Her hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, resting on your hip, thumb stroking slow circles against your skin. “What time is it?”
“Still early,” you whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against hers — soft, barely there. “No reason to rush.”
She hummed in agreement, tilting her head to catch your mouth in a proper kiss. It was lazy, warm, and deep. the kind that tasted like safety and morning breath and domestically. She kissed you like she wasn’t in a hurry. Like the only thing in the world worth focusing on was you.
Your fingers tangled in her hair, gently pulling her closer as your lips moved in sync, slow and teasing. She kissed you again, then again — less sleepy now, more present. Her hand moved up your back under your shirt, fingertips tracing your spine.
She pulled back just enough to press kisses to your jaw, your cheek, the hollow just below your ear. “You always smell like vanilla in the morning,” she muttered, her voice barely above a breath.
You smiled against her mouth. “That’s just my shampoo.”
She chuckled softly, low and rough, then leaned down to kiss along your collarbone. Her lips were warm, soft, and unhurried like she had all morning to worship every inch of your skin. You hummed softly, the feeling of her hands under your shirt and lips on your skin made it hard to imagine ever wanting to leave the bed.
You let her stay there, pressed beneath you, head resting on the pillow, red hair spread across the sheets like something out of a painting. She looked up at you with barely-there amusement.
“You’re unusually cheerful for this hour,” she murmured, voice raspy and thick with sleep.
“I’m always cheerful,” you whispered back, brushing your fingers through the ends of her hair.
A low chuckle escaped Natashas throat. “Right.”
“You’re staying home today, right?” you asked quietly.
Her hand moved to your cheek, thumb stroking gently. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.” You kissed her again, lips brushing hers like a promise. “Because I want to spend the whole day doing nothing with you.”
Her lips curved into a small smile against yours. “That sounds… tolerable.”
You laughed, the sound soft and full of affection. “You’re such a romantic.”
“I’m trying,” she whispered.
And she was. In her own quiet, grumpy way — wrapped around you, holding you close, kissing you like she finally knew what it meant to stay.
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Em! How we feeling about 1. "How could you? That was my mother's!" For sweet Angel boy Steve Harrington? (P.s. - hi. You’re lovely)
Thank you for the request, my dear anon; however, I have to tell you, this prompt broke my brain. I’m sorry it took so long, and I hope this lil thing does your hopes justice! I wrote so many different stories for this before settling on this.
As always, please feel free to leave any comments and critiques or just chat in general!
P.S. thank you, but not as lovely as you for fueling the creativity of little ole me.
tags/warnings: i do be cursing, small mention of losing a parent, infertility issues, miscarriage, angst, but a happy ending i promise
2.9k prompt: “How could you? That was my mother’s”; almost a decade’s worth of love threatened by a moment of insecurity, in which you have a secret and Steve finds out.
September, 1993
It’s been seven years since Steve asked you to be his girlfriend. Since Hawkins put itself back together with duct tape. A temporary fix, but enough to get by after most of the townsfolk packed their bags and never looked back. Your little group of outcasts had finally come to terms with how fast life can pass by, and Steve couldn’t handle another second without expressing just how much he needs you.
Five years since he asked you to be his wife. A late night stroll around the apartment complex. A routine for when you both couldn’t sleep. Hand in hand, staring up at the sky, and asking which memory had sunk its nasty teeth in this time. Sometimes the harder questions got ignored; instead, you both would gush about your dreams. To leave Hawkins, once the now college age kids got old enough, to get a start on that brood of Harringtons, and to finally get a good night’s sleep without fear of monsters hidden somewhere deeply below the bed.
You had finally let go of his hand to unlock the door and walk in when he called your name from behind. The boy was on one knee, sweatpants digging into the welcome mat and faded Hawkins High tee sticking to his skin (which he later blamed on the intensity of the walk, and never admitted to it being nerves). He thought you had never looked prettier. Backlit from the soft amber glow of the hallway light, hair falling down your shoulders, and that soft dumbstruck look on your face.
Now two years after the wedding, you’re sitting on the floor of your work’s bathroom with those stupid pink lines staring straight back at you.
“Hello?”
“Eds,” you sob. “I think I’m going to throw up and I can’t tell Steve because I know it’ll just break his heart again and I didn’t expect it to be posi—”
“Woah, slow down. Are you okay? Why would Steve get mad? What the hell are you talking about?”
You try to reply, but you can’t breathe. Hot tears rolling down your cheeks, chest heaving with grief and guilt.
“Deep breaths, in and out. Breathe with me. There you go. It’s okay.” The air creeps its way back into your lungs just enough for your tears to slow down . “Just head on over and we can talk about whatever is going on, okay?”
So you tell your manager you’ve caught a stomach bug and try your best to stay calm as you drive over to his apartment.
Eddie has been one of your closest friends since he moved into the trailer park across the street back in grade school. He was the first to know when Steve asked you out, huffing out how it was about damn time. And he was the first to know when Steve had proposed, but he claimed he already knew.
“How do you think Steve finally got the balls to ask you? I told him he better shoot his shot now before some other gentleman with fantastic hair sweeps in and steals you away,” he had said with a wink and elbow digging into Steve’s side.
And now he was the first to know that you were pregnant—again.
You and Steve had been trying for kids since the night of your honeymoon, so excited to have a clan of your own. Your children would grow up never questioning whether or not their parents loved them. You reveled in the dreams of being there for your kids in a way your parents never were for either of you. Steve’s parents chose not to do so, but your mother had no choice. Her weekly hospital visits turned into staying there, which turned into hospice, and eventually losing her completely.
But the excitement of being ‘#1 Mom and Dad’ turned into heartbreak, rushed trips to the hospital, therapy sessions, and a newfound fear every time you missed a period and those pink lines popped up. So eventually you stopped trying. No use in causing more tears and more tension in the relationship when all the two of you could focus on was the dream you could never have.
This is not to say the sex stopped. You still participated in testing out the ol’ mattress, but you went on birth control and Steve often wore condoms. It was overkill, but it protected you both from adding anymore anguish to the ever climbing piles of trauma.
So how the hell did you end up here?
Shuffling up to Eddie’s door, you let out a ragged breath and knock. The faint sound of feet running across carpet pools out from beneath the door. Then those soft, doe eyes are staring down at you. “Oh, sweets, come on in”, he soothes, hands resting on your shoulders before pulling you into a hug.
“I thought you guys were using protection?” Eddie questions, setting down a tea mug on the coffee table in front of you, and making his way to sit next to you on the couch.
“We were! I mean—we do… so I don’t know how this happened,” you sigh out, resting your head atop your hands and rubbing your temples.
“Well,” he starts, placing a hand on his chest while the other reaches for the sky, “methinks this doth be a gift. A light shining out to sea on a stormy night!”
“Shut up,” you tease, lightly tapping his shoulder before cradling your head in your hands once more. “I really don’t think I can go through this again, Eds. I can’t tell Steve. I can’t put him through this again.”
“What? You have to tell him. He deserves to—”
“He deserves to be happy, Eddie,” you plead, cutting him off. “Steve was so excited to start a family. The one thing he wants more than anything, and—and I can’t give it to him.” Tears work their way out once again, and wrapping an arm around you, Eddie gently pulls you in to place your head on his shoulder.
“I know it’s a shit situation, but I promise you’ll get through this. I have a good feeling this time,” he beams, softly laying his head against yours.
“Just promise me you won’t tell Steve? Not until I’m further along.”
“Scouts honor,” he sighs.
“Can you go with me to my first appointment? I’m going to call tomorrow and schedule it.”
“Oh my god! Of course! Do we get to hear the baby’s heartbeat and see it on that little pixelated black and white alien picture thing?”
“No, you dummy, it’s just going to be a blood test to make sure I am actually pregnant and see how high my hCG levels are, and then we’ll know how far along I am.”
“Oh,” he responded dejectedly. “Despite that being infinitely less cool, I’ll still be there. Are you sure you don’t want Steve to go? I feel like I’m entering his territory here, doll.”
“I’m sure, Eddie. I can’t put him through that again. It’s not that I don’t want Steve to know. I just want to save him the heartbreak, but I don’t think I can do it alone.”
November, 1993
It was unbearable keeping this from Steve. Two months of waiting for the spotting, the cramping, the pain of failing again. Sixty days of not telling the man you love most in this world. Weaving a web of lies for why you had to leave work early, why you couldn’t eat the dinner he made, why you wouldn’t have sex with him anymore, why you were going to see Eddie so much more than usual.
“Mrs. Harrington?” the nurse called. “Dr. Newfield will see you now. Follow me please.”
Deep breaths. In and out. Nothing to worry about. Just a 14 week checkup. Ya know, the one you haven’t made it to before. It’s totally okay. Deep breaths. Steve should be here. Oh my god he needs to be here. I need him here.
Eddie covers your hand with his, “Go on, it’ll be alright. I’ll be right here when you—”
“Oh my gosh! How could I forget? I have a dentist appointment today,” you blurt out, shooting up and walking towards the entrance. “Pregnancy brain! Please tell Dr. Newfield I’ll reschedule as soon as possible. Thank you!”
The bell rings out, announcing your departure, feet flying on the pavement before fumbling with the door handle of the Bronco. Hot tears roll down your cheeks, chest tight and unrelenting. Eddie grabs your hand, pulling it to his chest, “Remember to breathe, okay? Look at me. Don’t look at your feet, look in my eyes.”
Once he’s happy, Eddie drops your hand and places his own on your shoulders, “Alright, you going to tell me what the hell just happened in there?”
“I panicked,” you sigh, pulling your eyebrows together. “I’ve never made it this far along, and I realized I don’t want to go through this without Steve. As much as it terrifies me to know what is going on up in here,” you let out a teary chuckle, gesturing a finger around your stomach, “It scares me more to not have him here with me.”
“Well, I was going to save this until after the appointment, but since that is no longer happening, I think this breakthrough is a cause for celebration, too,” Eddie smiles. Reaching into the pocket of his jean jacket, he pulls out a rectangular velvet box.
Steve left early from work. Made up some lame excuse to his boss, but in reality he wanted to come home to you. You had called in today for a stomach bug and when he left this morning, you were shut in the bathroom with no signs of coming out soon. He wanted to stop by the store and get your favorites to surprise you, hoping this would make you open up to him. He hated how distant you were lately, and couldn’t help the doubt and jealousy that creeped in from how you were visiting Eddie more often than normal.
As he walked down the main street of town, he saw you and Eddie across the street by your car. Steve couldn’t hear him, but he could see the way he rubbed your arms and shoulders. He could see you beaming from ear to ear when he pulled a jewelry box out of his pocket. Eddie stepped behind you, delicately moving your hair to one side, and gently placing a necklace across your chest. Your hand came up to grab it, smiling down before turning around to hug him tightly.
Steve would like to think he was a level-headed individual, but his suspicions had been confirmed. You were cheating on him with your best friend. His best friend.
“I never thought I’d get to wear this, Eddie. Thank y—”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing with my girl, Munson?”
You turn around to see Steve barreling at you with a look you’ve never seen. He was furious, but there was something indiscernible in his eyes.
“Woah, Steve. Calm down, okay? What the hell is going on with you?” Eddie demands, cocking an eyebrow.
“Do me a favor and spare me the innocent bullshit”, he fumes before directing his attention to you. “So this is why you won’t talk to me anymore? Feeling guilty for going behind my back and sleeping with our best friend.”
Your mouth fell open. Shocked at just how wrong he had judged the situation. More tears already brimming at your waterline, in utter disbelief that he could ever think you were capable of hurting him like that. “Steve. That’s not what’s going on. How could you even think I coul—”
“Then why the fuck is he touching you like that and what the hell is this?” he asks, his hand reaching up to the golden heart laying on your chest and snatching it away before tossing it out towards the street.
Your eyes follow it and before you could even react, Eddie is already jogging to search for it, but not before shooting daggers at Steve. But he didn’t notice, his eyes were transfixed on yours.
“How could you do that, Steve?” you shout, tears now falling. “That was my mother’s!”
His brows knit in confusion, but the hurt and anger in his eyes didn’t waiver. “Then why have I never seen you wear it? In the almost ten years we’ve been together, I have never once seen you wear that”, he spat.
“Because I just got it from my father!” you sob. “The pendant was damaged, so I took it over to Wayne months ago and asked if he had any tools to fix it. I was finally able to wear it and you’ve ruined it!”
Steve’s brows finally relax and a look of guilt crosses his face as he sees you sobbing into your hands. He comes up to you and wraps his arms around your back, pulling your face into his chest. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I had no idea. I just assumed that was why you stopped putting effort into us.”
You pull your head back to look at him. “I would never, ever, do that to you”, you scolded before taking a deep breath, “But I have been lying to you.”
“O-okay?” he says, a look of confusion plastered across his features.
“I’m pregnant”, you state matter-of-factly.
“You’re pregnant?” he questions, pausing like he hasn’t processed it fully. “You’re pregnant?! When did y—“
“Nope. I talk, you listen,” you plead, shooting a hand up to stop him from talking. He nods, a puzzled look forming and biting back a small smile.
“I took a test two months ago, and I didn’t want to tell you because I couldn’t stand to see that hope and happiness get ripped from you again,” you gesture to the look he has now. “But I also knew there was no way for me to do this on my own, so I asked Eddie to take me to my appointments until I knew this one was safe. That is why it has been so hard for me to speak with you. It’s been hell trying to keep this from you, and I have been dreading the day I wake up and it’s all over.”
You close your eyes and breathe as his hand comes to rest along your jaw. Opening your eyes, you see his own have glazed over and he’s sporting the dopiest smile. “How far along are you? Do you know what it is?”
“Fourteen weeks,” you whisper, afraid that if you say it too loudly it will all come crashing down, but the smile growing on his face brings some solace. “And I have no idea what they are yet. That’s actually what this vis—”
“They? As in plural? Like, more than one?” Steve asks with wide eyes, moving between your belly and your eyes. You can’t help but giggle as you look at him, and then he’s smiling at you. Those brown eyes full of love and adoration, wondering how he got so lucky. He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you close and swaying you gently. Lost in your own dream, surrounded by your little family.
“I found it!” Eddie calls, holding out the necklace and walking back over. You both look over, smiles beaming as Steve lets go and reaches for your hand. “I take it everything has been resolved?”
“Thank you, Eddie,” Steve says with a small smile, grabbing the jewelry from his hands. “For this, and for taking care of my girl. I’m sorry I freaked out on you,” he murmurs, looking down at the ground and rubbing his hand against the back of his neck.
Eddie clasps a hand on his shoulder, “Water under the bridge, dude. I’m just happy you know now. Felt like I was going to have a heart attack from the stress.”
You nod vehemently in agreement with his last statement, and Steve chuckles at you both before turning to you, “Well, I’m sure these little nuggets will appreciate the relaxation.”
“These? There’s two?!” Eddie practically yells. “How did I not know this! Why didn’t you tell me?”
You let out a bright laugh, “Eddie, you would actually have to go back there with me to see it on the ultrasound.”
“No way. I’m not trying to see your lady bits,” he retorts, hands coming up to make an “X” and Steve joins in on the laughter.
“That’s not how ultrasounds work, Eddie,” you sigh, “and I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise for you both.”
“Well, then let’s go back in there and find out what they are!,” Eddie demands, already walking back towards the office.
You turn to follow, but Steve turns you towards him and pulls your hand to his mouth to place a chaste kiss. “I really am sorry, baby. I know this couldn’t have been easy on you. And I promise, I will take this chain to a jeweler as soon as possible and have it fixed. I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you too, Steve,” you say, placing a hand along his neck and bringing him down for a kiss.
Taglist: @enchantedlandcoffee
*edit: i forgot to do the tag list, so I added it on and please forgive me LOL. If you can’t read due to the topics or no longer want tagged i completely understand, just let me know!
here is the memory lol i kinda went completely off what i had planned but eh
I feel Callum’s eyes on me all evening and I do my best to ignore him. Linette stays by my side for most of it, shooting daggers at people and hashing out plans for tomorrow.
“Hey, Boss?” Beatrice calls out turning away from her conversation with Gen.
“Yeah?” I say settling down next to a sleeping Iris and leaning up against the tree.
“What are we going to do with them tomorrow?” she tilts her head to the half sleeping royals. He is awake and so is Leahla and Julias.
I shrug, “what do you think we should do?”
Okay, in hindsight I probably shouldn’t have asked a very violent person that, and judging by the evil grin on her face, this was either going to be evil or really evil.
“I say we tie them up upside down and hang them from the tree’s dousing them in raw meat and let the hyrakas come and find them.”
Silence fills the night. Only Iris’s soft snores breaking the quiet.
I smile and look over at the royals, meeting Callum’s eyes for the first time tonight, they look almost… fearful. The green pierces me and a wave of familiarity hits me. Where have I seen those eyes before?
I smirk. “I don’t know really, I feel like Avena’s too fat to even try lifting off the ground.”
Beatrice’s eyes glimmer, “I could work something out.”
~~
I watch the boy as he makes his way through the crowd. His green eyes are wide as they take in all the sounds and scents of the streets. I slip from my perch on the roof of a nearby stall and take two pieces of cralm from a lady, one for me and one for Iris. I bite into one of them, flavour explodes in my mouth, and I grin at the stall vendor who tries to offer me more food. The boy stops when Mrs Sarvat the elderly bakery owner shoves some cralm into his hands, waving him off when he tries to pay her. He’s never been to one of these street events before if he thinks he needs to pay.
I inch my way through the crowd towards the boy, curiosity getting the better of me. He has such green eyes. I really should be getting back to Iris who is waiting for me in our hideout. But the boy’s face melts when he tries the bread.
“You’ve never had cralm before have you?” I ask, the words escaping my mouth.
The boy’s head whips up and he looks over at me. “No.” A grin spreads on my face. I wonder where his parents are?
It’s very delicious.” I say and hand him my spare one, he seems to need it more than me. I laugh at his objection, he has a weird accent, I wonder where he’s from. “Have it, I can always go get more, Mrs Sarvat never runs out of food.” And before he can say anything else I slip into the crowd away from him to find Mrs Sarvat and more cralm for Iris. The dancing ladies providing a distraction for me to get away from the-boy-with-the-green-eyes. I make it to the edge of the crowd and slip away to a waiting Iris. She smiles at me and gladly takes the cralm I offer her.
I smile down at her, “I’m going to see if Mrs Sarvat has some more food for you. I think I saw her with cream buns!”
I turn around and dash back out of the alley leaving Iris to hide herself away underneath crates and blankets. I move back towards my perch amidst the chaos and look for Mrs Sarvat.
“How often does this happen?” I spin around to see the green-eyed boy crouching on the edge of the roof.
I startle and almost loose my balance. “How’d you get up here?” I narrow my eyes.
He shrugs, “I found a way.”
I tilt my head. “You found a way?”
“Yep.”
“How old are you?” I ask curiosity getting the better of me again. All of my natural instincts seem to leave me and against my better judgement I inch closer to him.
“I’m twelve.” So he’s a year older than me.
“Where are your parents?”
“Not here.” He’s even more closed off than me.
“Is this the first time you’ve been to one of these?” I ask him another question pushing him even though his answers are short.
“Yeah,” just like earlier his eyes shine with unbridled awe. “How… often do these happen?” he shifts to the edge as if he’s going to jump down.
“Nearly every week,” I answer I look down to the bustling street filled with laughter and joy.
“Where are you from?” I question. “You have a funny accent.”
“I’m…. not from here,” is all he says.
He shifts towards the edge again and he crouches down to get a better look losing his balance and crying out. I fly forward and grip his wrist yanking him back onto the roof. He piles on top of me and scrambles off when he realises how close we are.
“Thank you,” he stutters.
“You’re uh welcome,” I say and move away from him sitting on the edge of the roof again watching people twirl around grin at each other through the music. The boy’s presence appears by my side, and he sits down next to me.
“Where are you from?” he asks.
I pause, keeping my identity a secret from mostly everyone is something that has protected me these past few weeks. “I’m from around,” I say, smirking at him. We both fall quiet and watch as the tune changes from the music and couples emerge and start to sway to the music. I shut my eyes and feel as the breeze washes over me like a cool blanket. Everything seems to be at peace, to be calm.
A light tap on my shoulder has me opening my eyes and turning my head to see the boy standing up and offering me his hand.
A light blush colours his cheeks and he clears his throat. “You wanna, uh dance?”
I smile and put my hand in his letting him gently pull me up. It surprises me, how quickly I let me guard down with him. He wraps his arms around my waist as I place my own around his neck. A soft sigh escapes my lips and I want to stay like this forever. Where there is no fear, no worrying about surviving the night, no grief being bottled up, no anger being built up, nothing. Just the cool breeze and comforting arms wrapped around me. We sway to the music below and just let the moment wash over us. My heartbeat settles and I find myself leaning into him more than I was expecting.
The careful quiet and peace is shattered when a shout from below erupts into the night. The boy tenses and he pulls away looking down over the edge. Ziivera palace guards parade the street pushing people over and yelling. Children start crying and running away from the guards trying to avoid being trampled.
One of the guards looks up to where we are and shouts to the others. “There he is! Up there!” I twist over and look at the boy who has gone pale.
My walls fly up, and I harden my voice, “who are you?”
The boy falters slightly before saying. “I’m Callum.” Callum as in Callum Hansley?
Hell no.
My body boils with anger. Callum Hansley?
The commotion from the guards down below gets louder when more guards notice us up on the roof. I look down at the panic and terror emitting from the people, huddled in corners trying to shield children from the guards wrath. Someone who causes this much pain shouldn’t have control of a kingdom. Shouldn’t have control over my kingdom.
I twist around and start to move away but Callum grabs my arm.
“Wait!” he says looking almost desperate. “What’s your name?”
My voice comes out cold and detached, “I’m The Silent Queen.”
An: this is my interpretation of the story of these characters so if nothing is super correct its just cause im taking creative liberties lol. also idk if i like it too much lmao
Word count: 469
- Betty 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
James wraps his hands around my waist. Resting his head in the crook of my neck gently breathing in.
"Its only for a couple of weeks," I smile ruffling his hair. James shakes his head.
"I'm still going to miss you," he places a soft kiss on my neck and sighs contently.
"James, its one week, at the beginning of summer, we have the rest of summer after this!" I smile and walk over to my bed, James waddling behind me not letting go.
"But, I don't want you to go," he whines, spinning me around and placing a kiss on each of my cheeks.
"It's my grandma Jamie- she wants me to visit," I place a kiss on each of his own cheeks, fighting a smirk when he slightly blushes.
"I'm going to miss you so much B," James sighs and pulls you into a hug.
"I'm going to miss you more," I whisper softly, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him fiercely.
He lets go reluctantly and pulls back to look at me. "Whenever you miss me, just look up at the stars," I smile - thinking back to the nights when we used to sneak out and go stargazing on the roof of his house.
"And if you can't see the stars..." he trails off and grabs a marker delicately drawing a star on your hand. "Just look at this and know I'll be looking at my own too."
He quickly draws a star on his own hand and you both watch as the marker bleeds into your skin, leaving a trail of matching black lines on your skin.
"See? Perfect," James smiles. Picking your hand up and kissing it softly.
A grin appears on my face and I smile brightly up at James.
- James 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
Betty was constantly on my mind. Day and night, she filled my thoughts. I had just watched her leave for her grandmas, smiling brightly at me and I'm already missing her terribly.
It's only one week.
I remind myself.
One week.
A car engine rumbles behind me slowing down to a stop next to me.
- Betty 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
James has been kind of distant ever since I returned from my grandma's. He had visited every weekend during the summer taking me on walks and adventures throughout the town.
But I noticed the way he was less there than he was before I left. He seemed less focused.
And now that school has started he's been even more distant than ever.
"Betty!" A voice snaps me out of my haze and I slam my locker shut, turning to Inez who is leaning against the locker next to mine.
"What's up Inez?" I smile.
She doesn't return my smile. Instead she drops her eyes and sighs before answering. "We gotta talk."
what's up yall, im ems and i havent written any taz fic in months. but! i want to start again (tentatively) and so. heres this. it was inspired by my best friend asking me what kind of cocoa i like (she Always Forgets that i hate hot cocoa)
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Magnus was aging, that much he could realize. His back ached more often than not, his shoulders hunched, his hair had grayed nearly in its entirety. Deep lines had worn their way into his face, around his mouth from smiling too much, around his eyes for the same reason. He wore them with pride.
His hands hurt.
Too many hours spent gripping weapon handles. Too many hours spent carefully whittling blocks of wood. Fingers sore from the way he held his fork when he ate. But it has never stopped him, never deterred him from completing his self set tasks in his day to day life.
Tonight was no different, either. Magnus was in his chair (of course he had made it himself) in the living room. There was a fire roaring in the fireplace, the metal poker nearby so he could tend to it. He wouldn't admit he was grateful that Lup had enchanted the thing to never get out of hand. It was a blessing on his old bones, not having to worry about it. Also, the warmth was nice, especially as the temperature outside dipped below freezing.
In his hands he held a half worked gift. Not a duck this time around, no, he'd made so many of those in his lifetime. Everyone had accepted them with smiles, but he could see his friends’ disinterest in them over time. This time he was trying something more intricate.
For Davenport, still away at sea, a flagship with an ornate figurehead and a small crew. The light the fire gave off was less than ideal, and Magnus’ eyes strained as he worked on carving portholes. He had some eyeglasses somewhere, but for the life of him he couldn't remember where (They were on the small side table to his immediate right).
His hands shook the longer he worked. His fingers weren't working the way he wanted them to. His frustration mounted, and he didn't notice the noises coming from the kitchen. It wasn't until another body entered his peripherals, and the soft klunk of a tray being set down on the side table(next to his glasses), and having his knife and boat slowly lifted from his failing grasp.
“C’mon, dad. Put it down for the night.” Angus’ voice was soft and measured, having done this song and dance more frequently, lately.
He was visiting for the holidays, and his heart ached to see Magnus like this. He picked up the mug of hot cocoa (Aunt Lup's recipe, don't tell Taako) from the tray he just set down, and carefully wrapped Magnus’ hands around it.
Magnus sighed at the almost-too-hot mug, but relented. It was soothing the aches in his fingers, despite the burn in his palms.
“I was almost done with the trim on the window,” Magnus started, before a weak cough wracked through him. It was deep in his chest, and it hurt. Angus quickly took the mug from him and rubbed his back.
The fit passed after a few moments, and Magnus took a shuddering breath. Neither he nor Angus would mention the tears at the corners of Magnus’ eyes. It was just a cough, a persistent little bug he hadnt been able to kick. The mug was returned to him, and he brought it up with mildly shaking hands to take a sip. “They’ve taught you well,” Magnus cant help but smile with pride.
It's a familiar taste, and it sends warmth blooming through his chest, making his heart swell with familiarity.
Angus smiles a little, himself. “Aunt Lup makes it better, but I'm glad you like it.” They had this conversation last night. And the night before that. And the night before <i>that</i>. And it's hard, but he keeps the smile on his face despite wanting to frown at the repetition.
But Magnus sips at his cocoa happily, oblivious to the hurt on his son's face.
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Strangely enough, though, it is one of the things she notices about him first when he walks into her Ancient Civilizations class.
Oh, she thinks dumbly to herself at the flex of his muscles under the thin material of his shirt, the unruly curls that keeps falling into his eyes. That blindingly white smile. Oh.
Or: Clarke develops feelings for her History professor. It goes from there.
I glower at him. “Be careful, brother,” I say, my tone low. “You don’t want to be a traitor do you?”
Caspar’s small smile falters slightly. “Watch yourself Callum,” he hisses quietly so only I can hear. “You’re sound a little like a hypocrite right now.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Your little midnight moment with Aurelia last night?”
I freeze.
“What?”
“I saw you sneak off with her last night. So as much as you think I’m going to be the traitor, you better watch yourself, brother.” Caspar leans away and I suck in a breath, forcing air into my lungs. Dammit.
“When this all goes to shit brother, I don’t want to have you to choose between us and them,” I warn. “Because you’ll be dead to us, and you know it.”
“Not as dead as you’ll be, if whatever is going between you and Aurelia goes any further.”
And that’s just it.
It needs to stop.
And somewhere deep, deep, down a small, screaming part of me maybe doesn’t want it to stop.
