matilda oneshots i had to get out of my head

it isnt much, but it is enough for me

hello everyone!! hope you're having a great day!

this is a request fill for Revolting Child on ao3 who requested matilda and miss honey's first night together after the events of canon :)

tw for
implied/mentioned abuse
nightmares
implied ptsd
and as always if i've missed something please let me know so i can add it :)

enjoy!

—————

Neither Matilda nor Miss Honey are entirely sure how to get started.

In the moment, everything had seemed so certain. The Trunchbull had been run out of school, Matilda's parents had agreed to the adoption. Nothing else mattered just then.

They realized slowly, as the school day came to an end and all the other children went home to their families, that it matters quite a lot.

Matilda and Miss Honey simply sit in the empty classroom, occasionally looking at the other, both unsure of what to say or what to do.

Eventually, Miss Honey gently stands from her desk. "Well, um... why... why don't we pop by your house and fetch some things you'll need?"

Matilda nods and grabs her school bag from her hook, feeling the smooth leather of the straps as she hooks them over her shoulders. Miss Honey gently reaches out a hand for her. Matilda takes it and slowly leads her on the long walk to her house.

She hesitates as her hand touches the cool brass of the doorknob. Memories come rushing back to her.

The garish wallpaper, somehow orange, yellow, and green all at once. The pinks and the oranges and the yellows and... so bright. The strange texture of the carpeting. The yelling she's still preparing instinctively to hear, muffled, but louder as soon as she opens the thick wooden door.

This time, there's nothing.

Apart from the scattered furniture and knickknacks her parents left behind, there's no sign of life. It's like a bomb went off. Broken things on the floor, clothing that didn't fit inside overstuffed suitcases carelessly crumpled on the ground, other bits and bobs everywhere. Nothing where it belongs. But if not for those things strewn carelessly around, you'd never know anyone ever lived there.

Matilda gently crouches down and picks up one of her mother's china dancer figurines. Matilda always loved them. She was never allowed to touch them, for fear she'd break them, but she admired them and their beautiful colorful dresses from afar.

She carefully strokes a finger over the smooth figurine, down her hair and over the frills at the bottom of her dress. Her mother must have dropped it. There's a tiny little fractal of her skirts missing at the very bottom, the rough texture of the inner china a stark contrast to the smooth glaze on the outside. She adds it to her bag without a word.

Miss Honey silently follows her up the stairs to the attic, her bedroom. Matilda looks around. Last night was her last night ever sleeping stuck up here, illuminated by the moonlight through the small window, listening to all the creaks of the wood and the groaning as the rainwater rushed through all the pipes, deafening so high up.

Matilda hesitates, deciding what to take. She packs all the clothes she has that still fit. Not many. A few dresses, a shirt, some jeans. That's about it. Her drawings she did. A few little toys she made herself out of various things she found in the house and around the neighborhood, just for sentimentality.

She freezes outright when she gets to her books. Miss Honey watches from Matilda's firm old bed. "Make a list of what you have. We'll take what we can carry and find replacements for the others. Just make sure you get all the ones that are special to you."