You were jolted awake by the movements next to you, Seven´s incoherent yelps and frantic movements taking any sleep in you.
“N-no, Saeran! I’m-” Tears streamed down his face.
This happened every night since Seven learned everything Saeran had been through. He blamed himself, believing that Saeran would have been alright if he had been there. If he hadn’t left him. He liked to pretend he was happy during daytime, but, when the night came along, he couldn’t hide his guilt… nightmares plagued his sleep.
In a second, you were kneeling at his side, hands clutching his face.
“Shhh,” You whispered at him, wiping his tears. “Seven, it’s just a dream. Wake up.”
Slowly, after a few seconds more, he opened his eyes. He looked at you, surprised, but soon guilt washed over his face.
“I woke you up again? I’m so sorry…” He began to whisper.
“No, it’s okay… Don’t worry about it.” You said, you were used to this, your body reacting to any sign of distress when he’s sleeping. Long gone are the nights you could sleep the night through, instead opting for waking up at random intervals in the night to check up on him.
“Did he wake up?” Seven asked, eyes fixated on you.
“I don’t think so, I didn’t hear anything.”
He let out a sigh of relief, “After all he’s been through… I should protect him. He can’t be the on-”
“I know,” You said firmly, understanding what he meant.
“MC… really… I’m sorry… I never meant to… “
“It’s fine,” You said, laying down besides him, a hand wrapped around his chest. “It’s okay… We’re okay.”
The next morning, you woke up early, glancing at the alarm that read 5:55 am. You glanced at your sleeping husband, smiling softly, he had managed to sleep through the night.
“Why not let him sleep some more?” You thought to yourself, getting out of bed.
You walked towards the kitchen, quickly putting some coffee to brew. Once it’s ready, you grab the pot.
“When were you planning to tell me?”
The voice scared you, dropping the pot to the ground. It shatters. You turn around slowly.
“Saeran? What are you talki-” You begin to say, but are cut off.
“When were you planning to tell me about his nigh-” Saeran raises his voice but is also cut off by someone running.
“MC! What happened? I heard something crash and I…” Seven entered the kitchen hurriedly, but upon seeing Saeran leaning against the counter, and you in the midst of the shards of the pot, he halted. “Oh.”
A moment of silence passes between the three.
“So… when were you going to tell me?” Saeran says quietly, looking down at the broken pot. “When were you going to tell me about my brother’s nightmares?”
Seven glanced at him, with a shocked expression. “How did you know?”
Saeran sighed, “Saeyoung… I know you’re trying to be strong for me but… there is no need.”
Seven stiffens at that, his hands curling up in anger. “Why… why do you say that? If it weren’t for me… none of this would have ever happened to you…”
“It wasn’t your fault… You didn’t know.”
“But I was supposed to. You’re my brother, I was supposed to take care of you! And when you needed me most… I wasn’t there. I assumed you were fine… when I should have found out if you were really okay, instead of trusting their words!”
Seven’s eyes began to water, and you instinctively reached out to him. He took your hand.
“Y-you weren’t supposed to see me like this…” Seven whispered. “I haven’t protected you… I’m supposed to be protecting you… It doesn’t matter what I feel…”
Seven’s grip on you tightened as tears began rolling down his cheeks.
Saeran stayed silent, his eyes still glued to the shards on the floor.
Suddenly, he looked up, “It’s okay.”
Saeyoung looked at him in confusion, “…. What?”
“I said, it’s okay… it wasn’t your fault. You’re my brother…you don’t have to be the strong one all the time. We… we can take care of each other. You believed I was safe all these years, you became an agent in order to protect me… Even though what happened to me happened… you always tried to look out for me… even when you knew you couldn’t see me.” Saeran said. “So, it’s okay… don’t feel guilty about… anything that happened.”
Seven looked up at him, tears glistening in his eyes.
“It’s okay,” Saeran whispered once more, closing the distance between him and his brother, giving him a hug.
Hopefully this was okay?? Sorry it was so late!
Edit: as you can see… I suck at writing Saeran lol
roads and rivers (is how we ended up here), Serena/Bernie (Holby City [part of the we can share a heartbeat for the night (share our hearts for the rest of our lives)aka they meet on the maternity ward AU alsoaka the Bernie/Marcus/Serena throuple verse but currently absent Marcus]) teen, 3.5k+ big shout out to Lo for the title and also beta-ing 💖 tags: family outings, friends to lovers, first kiss, soft gay feels.
Even under the warm Parisian sun, Marinette couldn’t shake the shiver running down her body, settling in her bones. The cloudless sky didn’t offer hope or happiness, instead feeling like a puzzlepiece forced into a spot it didn’t fit.
Something just felt…wrong.
The air smelled of its customary combination of coffee, urine, and car exhaust. People milled around on street corners or ducked into pastry shops, cars speeding down the noisy streets, barely slowing for pedestrians.
Nothing was physically out of the ordinary, yet somehow Marinette could feel a change in the air, buzzing in the atmosphere.
“Are you okay?” Adrien asked, tugging at her hand. She hadn’t even noticed she’d stopped walking.
She let him pull her along the sidewalk, taking care not to trip where two slabs of concrete met unevenly. “Uh, yeah. Why do you ask?”
Adrien squeezed her hand. “You just seem really out of it right now.”
Marinette slowed to a stop, turning her head to the left and right before lowering her voice conspiratorially. “This is going to sound insane but…does it feel really weird outside right now?”
“How do you mean?” Adrien questioned, hunching his shoulders.
“Like…like something’s about to happen? I don’t know. I just feel like something big’s coming.”
“Big like what?”
Marinette threw the hand not linked with Adrien’s into the air in exasperation. “I don’t know! I don’t know if it’s good or bad or what. I just have this feeling my whole life’s about to change.”
“Well, maybe when we meet up with Alya and Nino you’ll feel better. Just the four of us hanging out,” Adrien said, pulling on her hand once again to start them moving towards their destination. “We’ll get some ice cream or something, it’ll be fun.”
Still slightly apprehensive, she picked up her pace to walk comfortably beside him, her short legs requiring more steps to keep up with his longer strides.
Suddenly, a hint of cascading gold caught the corner of her eye. A soft breeze blew past, sweeping her bangs across her forehead and bringing with it a taste of lavender and lemon. It spread through her, warming her chest down through her fingertips.
Marinette’s breath caught in her throat as she turned her head to stare at the retreating figure of a ponytailed goddess. She felt struck by lightning, like a clap of thunder rang over her head, distorting her hearing and stopping her heart.
This was her moment. The moment she’d felt coming. The moment her life would change.
An overwhelming sense of harmony and contentment flooded her senses. All from the cute girl who passed her on the sidewalk. Marinette continued to stare, mesmerized.
She let out a low, appreciative whistle, not ashamed of her ogling.
Tossing Adrien’s hand to the wind, Marinette sprinted to the gorgeous blonde and tapped her on the arm.
The taller girl turned her head, flicking her hair over her shoulder, treating Marinette to another whiff of lavender and lemon.
“Can I help you?” she asked, a slim brow raising in question, blue eyes twinkling.
Marinette decided to be direct. “We’re dating now.”
The blonde smirked and grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together.
And they strutted blissfully into the daytime sun as happy girlfriends.
These days, he loves it when Elektra simply lets herself in. He loves what it says: she’s not a guest in his apartment, or a guest in his life. She’s home.
Waking up to the soft fall of her footsteps on the staircase is like giving himself permission to dream in daytime. Happiness spreads through Matt like the slow sweet crawl of honey; anticipation buzzes like the wings of a bee. Anything can happen in the hours ahead of them. Nine to five rules don’t apply. Their choice, their time, his and Elektra’s.
He’s sitting up in bed by the time her footsteps reach the living room, and when he hears her turn towards the kitchen, Matt gets to his feet. He’s sleep-mussed, wearing only boxers and bandages, and entirely unconcerned about the fact. She’s wearing slim pants and a fitted cashmere sweater; when he palms her waist and whispers, “Hi,” his mind adds a silent prayer of thanks for the gift in his hands.
“Good night?” Elektra asks, tracing the square edges of the bandage high on his shoulder.
“Productive. Yeah. You?”
“Ask me tonight,” she says, a tease in her voice, and kisses him hello, soft and plush and warm. “I got you something,” she adds, and leads him by the hand over to his own table. Matt smells buttery bread, fresh strawberries, sweet, pure, cream, and the kind of coffee rich enough to drown in.
Matt dips his head toward the hollow of her throat, just above the neck of her sweater, and noses in for a kiss, followed by a dramatic sniff; “I cannot tell a lie,” he says, “it smells even better than you do.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Elektra says drily, taking a seat. Matt settles beside her, dunks a berry in cream, and lets the bright, clean flavor burst on his tongue.
He got her something, too. She’s probably already noticed; details never escape her. The orchid growing near his windowsill is white, he’s been told, with red deep inside the bloom. Scent rises from its petals, layered and complex, climbing up and up, all the way to the rafters.
He doesn’t expect her to tend it - that’s for him to do. He’ll do it well, and it will be here to greet her, every time she comes home.
Gavin never called himself the golden boy, no one in the crew
did really. The ones who dubbed him that are those who don’t know him. Gavin
simply loved the color yellow; it reminded him of where he was, who he was,
what he was. He lived on the famed “Golden Coast of America” now, in the grand,
roaring city known as Los Santos; far, far away from the dreary grays and blues