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odoraful · 28 days

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Somnium pt2

zayne finally meets with you again in his dreams, though he is unprepared to face the harsh truth

read part 1 🙇‍♀️ content: dawnbreaker!zayne x reader; a direct continuation from zayne’s anecdote 'still in dark' (spoiler warning); 2.2k words; angst :( reading bgm ♫ It is The Nature of Dreams to End (Julia)

It took a few seconds for Zayne’s brain to register that he should reply to you.

Stop staring with your mouth agape. Say something.

The words were lodged in his throat.

You fidgeted with your hair, eyes turned downwards. “Excuse my manners. I should stop addressing you incorrectly and ask for your name.”

Zayne cringed internally. A great start — he now gave the impression that he was deliberately ignoring you for your supposed impoliteness.

“No, please, it's alright.” The sentence tumbled out of him. “My name is Zayne.” His arms remained glued at his sides.

“It's the same as his… everything is the same,” you murmured, shaking your head in disbelief. Your brow was in a deep furrow, as if you someone had given you some incalculable equation to solve. He could tell that a million questions were flooding your thoughts right now.

“If it’s any consolation,” he tried his best to give a reassuring smile, but he felt his lips tremble as he lifted the corners of his mouth, “I also have questions about how we’ve come to meet.”

You raised your head, finally meeting his gaze. In all his dreams with you, he'd never seen such worry on your face. He felt a crushing urge to take you in his arms, smooth a hand over your hair, whisper in your ear that he was here for you, that he was here to protect you. Instead, he squeezed his fists tight.

“Then, should we go somewhere more comfortable and have a talk?” You offered, turning around to face the pavilion suspended on the river. You lifted a hand to shade your eyes. “The sun is too bright to be standing outside.”

Zayne nodded. It would be too embarrassing for him to say that the golden sunlight targeting you was likely a product of his own subconscious. Moving to your side, the two of you headed towards the bridge leading to the pavilion. As he walked, Zayne relaxed his fists, feeling the sting in his palm from his own digging fingernails.

Your eyes went wide with alarm. “Humans that slowly transform into wanderers? That’s horrifying.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, goosebumps forming on your skin.

Sitting now on the bench that lined the inside of the pavilion, the two of you conversed about your respective worlds. With embarrassment, he mentioned how he dreamt about you since he was 12. You laughed at how shy he was getting, as he turned his head away from yours, not wanting you to see the break in his coolness. When you spoke, he acted as a dutiful listener, despite having already extensively researched the fabled Linkon City. It felt surreal to hear your experience first hand. It made him feel less crazy to hear everything he learned was true.

“And are there hunters to help control this? To keep everyone safe?” You asked.

Zayne inhaled a long breath. He looked out past your shoulder at the shimmering river. He turned solemn, his eyes unfocused.

“I don’t know of anybody in my world who has an evol, as you’ve called it, besides me.”

He felt no pride in owning this power. It was a burden he shouldered since he was a child. Yet, he understood the gravity of the responsibility forced upon him. If he abandoned this role, what would become of his world? The cards he were dealt gave him a singular purpose in life.

That was until you entered his life.

You remained silent, digesting the information he had given and what it implied. Zayne felt acutely aware of every one of his senses. The rhythm of his breaths, the weight of his hands clasped in his lap, the stiffness in his posture.

“You save people’s lives.” His eyes shifting back to you, Zayne unexpectedly saw a wistful look on your face. “It reminds me a lot of my Zayne.”

This should have been the part where you condemned him, like everyone else in his world. Called him a monster, a killer, nothing but a story to scare children into behaving well. If he wasn’t mistaken, the faint smile on your face was one of admiration. Never had he seen himself as heroic. Those few words you spoke made him crumple. He placed his head in his hands. Not only that, you said it reminded you of your Zayne.

He heard the rustle of your dress beside him as you sat closer to him. Your legs almost flush against his. If he leaned barely a millimetre to his right, your arms would touch.

“I want to know,” he started, finding his voice again. “In the past, you never realised I was someone else. What changed in that last dream?”

Humming in thought, you tapped a finger on your chin. “I’m not too sure about it myself.” You began to chuckle sheepishly. “I do have a working theory, but I would need to…” Your sentence trailed off. Zayne stared at you, confused. You seemed to shrink under his gaze.

“Is it alright if I…” Biting your lip, you fidgeted with your fingers. “Touch you?”

What kind of theory is this? Zayne could never guess your next move. Freely speaking your mind, acting on your first instinct, these were traits so foreign to him. Your unpredictability was something he loved and feared.

“Of- of course,” he blurted out, less composed than he would’ve liked to show. He prayed his cheeks didn’t betray him by turning bright pink. Turning his body towards you, he rested his hands on his thighs, waiting for what you would do.

You reached a hand and gently cupped his cheek.

Unable to contain his reaction, Zayne let out a shuddering breath at the contact as he leaned in. The casual affection that was so natural for you to show completely overwhelmed him. As you leaned in, your eyes slowly examined him, moving up and down his face. All Zayne could do was yield under your attention. Despite no words being exchanged, he felt more vulnerable to you than ever before.

He grasped your hand, holding it against his face. You felt so real. How could his mind conjure something so tangible? The shape of your knuckles, the creases on your fingers, all of it was warm and alive under his cool touch. He was certain that if he touched the underside of your wrist, he would feel your steady pulse.

“Zayne.” Your voice was a hesitant whisper. “You’re hurting me…”

Caught up in exhilaration, Zayne didn’t notice how tight his grip had become. Your fingers were being crushed together by his. He immediately released his hold, cursing inwardly at himself. What was he thinking? Your Zayne wouldn’t have done that. He wouldn’t have been so aggressive, so overly emotional.

“I remember now.” Feeling your breath graze his skin as you spoke, he fought off the urge to shiver. “I started to notice that there was something about your gaze…” Your eyes softened with sympathy. “There’s no warmth to it.”

Your hand trailed down his cheek to his neck. “And when I touch you.” Tingles followed wherever your fingers went. “You tense up everytime.” Emphasising your point, your hand rested on his shoulder, forcing him to relax his muscles. “Almost like you’re scared of me, somehow.”

No, this wasn’t how it was meant to go. He had expected you to say something trivial — his appearance was slightly off, or he had just forgotten to say or do something that was an obvious tell. These were easy fixes for him.

Zayne screwed his eyes shut, defenceless against your pity.

After all these dreams living in snippets as this doctor, this perfect version of himself, he still couldn’t get it right. No matter how well he could copy, from watching all those medical show episodes or tasting as many desserts as his barren world could offer, there were fundamental things about himself he couldn’t change.

“I-I don’t understand.” He said, strained. He felt like a child again, terrified of making the wrong move. “I thought I did everything right.”

“You did!” You exclaimed. Bringing your other hand to his other shoulder, you gently squeezed them. “You treat me so kindly whenever we met, but my Zayne is the one back in my world, in Linkon.”

Your hands withdrew from his shoulders. “And in any case, this-” You gestured around, “- is just a dream. I might not even remember this exact conversation when I wake up. I don’t think I’m even real in this-”

“Don’t say that.” He snapped.

His voice seemed to reverberate around the garden. The severity of his tone silenced you instantly.

Sitting still was too restricting for him now. He ran a hand through his hair, needing to move around. He stood up, nausea swirling at the pit of his stomach. Rubbing his eyes with the edges of his hands, he saw stars in the vision.

To hell with composure.

“I’ve known you for so, so long.” It was difficult to speak when every word constricted his throat. “Do not tell me that you’re not real because then everything I’ve worked towards would be for nothing.”

You cocked your head, confused. “Everything you’ve worked towards?”

Sparing himself the shame, he stayed quiet. He wouldn’t tell you how he spent his entire life in a fruitless endeavour to become the person you loved. It was a shattering realisation he arrived at. He was nothing but an imposter, a poor imitation. He could never be your Zayne. Desperation bubbled rapidly within him. The pressure reached a tipping point.

“You told me before that you’d always stay by my side" His tone wavered, struggling to keep stable between his quickened breaths. "Don’t leave me, please.” He pleaded, face contorting with agony. This loss would be more painful than any Abomination strike to his heart.

Your eyes were downcast, shoulders slumped. “Of course I can meet with you again, but I don’t think I can stay with you forever.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “I’m so, so sorry, Zayne. It- it just doesn’t feel right for some reason.”

The floor of the pavilion swayed under his feet. The tranquillity of the garden felt more like a mockery now than a solace. Why did you have to see through him? Could he have prevented this from happening? Seized by his own racing thoughts, he didn’t even detect you moving towards him. You encircled his waist with your arms and he crumpled into the hug instinctually. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. Nobody would be there to comfort him when he woke up. He’d share his misery with only the birds that nested at his window in the mornings. So, he savoured the feeling of your hand rubbing his back soothingly, letting your warmth consume him.

”Perhaps there’s an equivalent version of me in your world.” He could just hear your voice over the thumping heartbeat in his ears. “If there’s me and my Zayne in Linkon, then shouldn’t there also be someone for you?”

A version of you? He couldn’t begin to process what you were saying. No one could replace you, it was a ridiculous suggestion. How easily you would brush him aside like this.

He dared to look at your face once more. There was no contempt in your expression like he thought there would be. There was genuine care in your eyes. Of course, you were always the hopeful one.

“It’s not too late for you to find out who you truly are, Zayne.”

That was the last thing he heard before he was abruptly pulled from you.

Dreams seldom have satisfying endings to them — bouncing from one scene to the next, blurring beginning, middle, end, and finishing far too soon. And so, like the snapping of thread, he was flung back into the waking world.

When Zayne awoke from previous dreams, he’d always feel at peace. However, this time he jolted awake, gasping for air. Taking in deep breaths to steady himself, he saw the blankets had been kicked aside onto the floor. Sweat slicked the back of his shirt and beaded down the side of his head.

Zayne sat up against the bed head, letting his head roll to the side to gaze out the window. The sun was just beginning to rise, the landscape outside diffused by pale blue light. A bird flew up to the sill, hopping curiously on the ledge. It then settled down, legs disappearing into its feathery body.

He opened the drawer of his bedside table and wearily reached for his journal and pen. With a heavy heart, he scrawled down everything he could recall about the dream. Where he was, what you wore, what you said. The occasional lilting chirp from the bird cut through his pondering.

“Another version of me.”

Could there be someone like you in his world? Someone who would want to spend time with him? He’d never thought to talk to anyone else, he only ever needed you.

He finished his final sentence, the writing almost unintelligible.

“Who you truly are.”

When he wasn’t chasing down the person in his head, when he wasn’t trying to be someone else, who was he, truly?

a/n: thank you for reaching the end xx 🥹 you've hit the surprise author note! i'm putting it here this time cuz i didn't want to detract from the main story with all my yapping at the start! i thought the bgm had a title fitting for my interpretation of dawnbreaker zayne's arc, and it does have the appropriate melancholic vibe to it :') this was my first time writing something longer and angst-ier, so apologies if it reads awkwardly D: i will continue honing my writing! i wish you a lovely day or night <3

#it did hurt a little to write this because i wish only for zayne's happiness in every timeline :'(#but i thought it would be interesting to imagine a different kind of continuation for dawnbreaker zayne!#✏️〰odorawrites #love and deepspace #l&ds #lads #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #l&ds zayne #lads zayne #zayne #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x you #dawnbreaker

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una-hopeless-romantic1118 · 1 year

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𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐕: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬?—𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐣𝐚𝐬/𝐑𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬

a/n: thank you THANK YOU guys for so much for the love lately. writing abt warren for yall and reading your guys' comments has been such a serotonin boost. I LOVE YOU ALL <333

timeline: ep. 3 + Christmas scene (kinda...)

-> Part 1

-> Part 2

-> Part 3

This chapter: Part 4

Part 5

Epilogue (cancelled)

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

warnings: not proofread as always <3, cursing, first Billy mention, angst (turned to fluff calm down), drinking, confusing time progression, implied sex teehee

summary (of this chapter): a visit to Laurel Canyon simply to talk to a friend and drop off a personally made outfit to a special costumer, ended in confessions and closures.

(if that didn't make sense, dammit just read the chapter)

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"Warren's either on something, or..." Eddie snickered at the offended Warren, "...yeah. Heh."

"I'm telling the truth, man!" Warren threw his hands up in frustration. "Guys, seriously."

"Warren, man, how do you expect us to react?" Graham took a swig of his beer. "It's just not...believable."

"We want proof." Eddie challenged him.

"Like what?" Warren scoffed. "What-What do you want me to show you guys?"

"You're creative man, I dunno, her bra?"

Warren leaned forward like he wasn't sure he heard his friend correctly. "Her bra?" He repeated. It triggered a nerve he didn't know could be triggered.

"There," Graham pointed at Warren's visible provoked tone. "That was enough proof. If he doesn't have it, then he never did it."

"Or!" Warren scoffed at both of his friends. "This is something I don't want to mess up. This is something new to me, and so far I think I have a good chance of getting something real. We kissed. We hung out. We laugh about things. I get her. I didn't have to do it."

A moment of silence and unsure glances were shared between the two friends, until the image of the woman and Warren talking to one another at that yacht party submerged from Graham's drunken and sluggish thoughts.

"Woah woah woah," He pushed himself to sit up. "What about Flora, the girl from the yacht party? You were just hooked on her."

Warren's lips immediately spread into a prideful grin. "That is her."

"Y/N Augustine...is Flora...?" Eddie frowned into space.

"Yeah!"

Only laughter erupted from the two drunk men, in turn making Warren grow more impatient with them.

"Fuck you guys, where's Karen?"

"Oh okay." Eddie shook his hands mockingly. "As if Karen will believe you any better."

Warren enters the house, almost tumbling over Camilla crouched down to the babbling Julia.

She noticed his tensed up presence. "Hey, War," she smiled up at him, "something wrong?"

"Nah, don't worry about it," he waved her off, clearly distracted. "Where's Karen? I need her to back me up for something."

"She's out by the front, I think," she squints through the sunlight seeping through the window. “She said not to bother her, though.”

A figure comes in through the front door, but it was just Billy, much to Warren's disappointment.

"Hey man, is Karen talking to somebody out there?"

Billy furrows his eyebrows at him. "Yeah, but I wouldn't...want to interrupt."

"I just need to steal her for a minute."

"Warren, she's kind of important." He warned. "I wouldn't-"

Warren took it as a further indicator that the guest was Y/N. Karen couldn't possibly know anyone else as famous. He marches past him to the door, and when he swings it open to find Karen gathered on a table with the familiar woman sipping tea together, he instantly rushes to them.

Karen sees the black-haired figure she feared would eventually come and interrupt her time with her friend, and she couldn't help but groan out.

"Will anyone just give be a bloody minute to have things to myself? I mean, fuck!"

"Hello ladies," Warren greeted anyways as he stood in front of them. He waves at Y/N peering up at him through her pink-tinted sunglasses. His hands twitched at the sight of her in a purple see-through kind of cloth for her puffy long sleeves, her white bra visible. "Hey."

Karen took note of the way Warren's usual composure to be nonchalant suddenly sloughed off at the sight of Y/N. He actually seemed tense, and clammy, and giddy all at the same time.

"Hi."

And Karen took note of Y/N's. Her normal response to push away any means of flirting was suddenly forgotten at the sight of Warren's cheeky smile. Her "migraine" from having to work with a well-known celebrity who turned out to be a complete bitch from a few hours ago suddenly disappeared, seeing as now she was grinning up at him.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Karen: There was this...excruciatingly flirty tone in their voices. It was annoying for me to be the one to witness it.

But it was adorable how vulnerable they made each other, even from that simple greeting. Mind you, I didn't know what was going on between the pair. And everything about the way they looked at each other that day seemed...innocent. Pure, if you will.

Well, yes, I sent Warren to her condo so that I didn't have to explain to the poor guy that Y/N Augustine was messing with him the whole time. I sent him there because I knew she needed someone like him, and I knew he needed her too, in the best way.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

"You sound like you're in a rush, War," Karen faked a smile. "Why don't you get on with it so you're not wasting our time?"

Warren frowns down at her. "I mean, I was going to ask to borrow here politely, but I think I'm just going to take her now."

"Mm," Y/N hummed. "I love being objectified."

"Sorry baby," Warren apologized, squeezing her bare shoulders. "I got some stubborn friends who don't believe I've gone more than 6 feet of you. Gotta humiliate them. You like humiliating people, why don't we make this a date?"

"I'm sorry, did I miss something?" Karen gagged, pointing to the both of them. "I don't like this."

"Too bad, Sirko-"

"No, she's right." Y/N retorted. "I didn't agree to anything. I only came here for this." She reached below her seat for the red, shiny box, and Warren's eyes widen like saucers.

He lets out what sounded like a high-pitched scream, and a gasp at the same time. "For me? Aw, baby..." His eyes set on her admiringly. "You shouldn't have!"

Warren should've seen the incoming sarcastic remark a mile away. "Are you kidding me?! Of course I had to! I mean, I lost a total of 5 hours of sleep for this, and I have more pricks on my hand than a local cactus...but who cares?"

So Warren decides to play along. "I love me a tough woman."

But his swagger was immediately washed down with humiliation when Y/N stopped herself from continuing it.

"What the hell, Augustine? That's what that was?" Karen scoffed, taking into her hands a white tag attached to the strings of a ribbon tied to complete the look of the present. The tag was titled Serenity by Y/N Augustine. "Is that what I think it is?"

Y/N smiles awkwardly, and all Karen could do was sit with an agape mouth, trying to restrain herself from strangling her friend.

"I want to wear your work!" She whines. "I've been begging you to make me something for ages! What's his reason for one?"

Warren pulls up a chair and starts ripping the red wrapper. "Pretty privilege." He shrugged.

"Oh!" Karen moved her head back in offense. "Do you want to go, Rojas? I knew Y/N way before you even thought about snagging her!"

"Karen, can we calm down?!" Y/N yelled at her, laughing. "What's in a few weeks?"

She thinks about it for a minute. "Christmas-oh. Oh!"

Meanwhile, Warren had stood up from his seat to try on the his new light brown leather vest, embroidered with flowers on the bottom, and then-

“There they are.” Warren chuckled as he pointed out the bejeweled part of the vest. The jewels were tiny and silver, and acted as borders of the flowers, and went to border the rest of the vest.

From far away, Warren noticed that they were made to stand out. Not too glamorous, but definitely not too basic that can be found at a lame, store at the mall.

No, this was designer. This was by Y/N Augustine, the fashion icon.

“I did what you suggested,” Y/N squinted up at him. “I’m still getting used to how I want to use them on clothes. I don't want the to look to over the top."

“Not bad, baby. I like it.” He chuckles as he lifts his shirt off.

“This is the part where I leave.” Karen whispered to her, a disturbed look on her face, before walking off inside with her tea.

And maybe it was a good idea Karen left.

Y/N stares openly at his bare body. His bare chest.

Holy cow.

“You take your shirt off for every girl?” She mused. But at the same time, she was serious, with a hint of suspicion.

“Nah, just you.” He remarked before swinging his arms through the vest. It slid fit into his body easily. “Such fine art is reserved for the finer art.”

“Geeze, Rojas.” Was all she could muster up, out of complete flattery. Normally she would find these pick-up lines completely overused that it’s lost meaning, or that it’s meaningless as it is.

But she was believing this so easily. Way too easily.

The weird thing is, she likes it. She actually looks forward to them, and at the same time she's disgusted by her own smittenness.

Is that even a word?

Warren pats the vest against his chest and dusts off invisible dust. “How’d you know my size?”

“Called you to ask." She sipped her tea. "Woman named Camilla answered, though."

"That's why she snuck in my room to grab a vest. Could've just asked me to take over, though."

Y/N laughed. "The conversation went on for hours. She's lovely to talk to. I want to meet her in person today."

Warren couldn't help but get ticked off. She's touched every nerve he had, it felt like, but she was avoiding anything that had to do with him.

He was right in front of her, and all she could do was avoid him every possible way.

It was like every step Warren took, with Y/N's coldness, he'd have to take a way more steps back than he did forward. Approaching her kept hurting him.

And the only way she's approached him? It was a kiss, the best and most sensual kiss he's ever felt, one that seemed to keep him breathless and despite it, left her wanting for more. It was a kiss he's been wanting more of at every thought, every mention of her name.

And while the kiss was a moment he'd never forget, it seemed like for Y/N she had forgotten it as soon as it was over.

Y/N senses his change of demeanor just by the way he slipped out of the vest. "What's wrong?"

"Can we talk about it?" His voice wavered. Asking about it physically pained Warren, but he pushed through. "Alright? It's the least you could do."

Y/N swallows thickly, her eyes darting off to her shoes. "About what?"

"Y'know exactly what." Warren inhaled sharply as he slipped back into his t-shirt. "What is this, even? What do you expect out of this?" He motioned to the two of them. "Because I'll tell you what I want it to be. Y/N I barely know you, but I've already picked up enough about you to know that you are just about the only person I know that's stuck on me. You're different, and it's so comforting and-and nice to see someone stick to their own thing and not feel the need to conform to be part of the crowd. Do you know how refreshing that is? And, fuck, that kiss-"

Warren saw a slight tremble in her bottom lip, and he wasn't sure if he should stop or not.

"I'm not..." she clenched her jaw, surprisingly, not out of anger. "I'm not the happiest right now."

"Well that's fucking perfect, Y/N." He pointed at his chest. "I'm. Right. Here."

She shook her head, her eyes shut. "Don't-"

"I can do it." He reassured her in a low, husky voice. He took the risk of placing a hand on hers. "I doubted it for a second, that I'm holding you back or something, but nothing does. Nothing can hold you back. You do your own shit, and everyone just follows along, because you're such a force. For fighting about women's rights, donating to charities even I've never heard about-"

Y/N's heart only jammed against her ribcage violently. "How'd you know about that?" She whispered under her breath in disbelief.

He shrugged with a smile. "A man's gotta do his research."

She can't possibly give in, and it wasn't about her career now.

She's scared if she gives in, that she's just using him to fill in the emptiness of her life. A good—the best man she's probably met for noticing what others couldn't about her, for noticing what she herself couldn't notice.

She had just submitted a few of her bejeweled and other unique and risky clothing projects like Warren encouraged her to, and her team loved them.

When no answer came out of her, Warren continued, swiping his thumb over and over on her hand. "I've done all the research I can do, now I really want to see you behind the camera, behind the press."

It easily hit every doubt Y/N had in her heart down and dead. "Dammit, Warren-" she choked out, a hand over her eyes.

"Hey, look." He chuckled out. "I'm asking for a lot, but we can take this as slow as you want-"

"You're so fucking stubborn." She sniffed, slapping his hand away out of flattery. "Fuck you."

"Is that a yes? I don't have to go on one knee right now though, right?"

Y/N only shook her head and brought his lips to hers hungrily.

No, he didn't have to go down on one knee right now.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Warren: Y'know, there were a lot of things I wish I could go back and experience again, but nothing beats the shocked look on those motherfuckers' faces that day when I came back with my sweet babe of a girlfriend wrapped around my arm *chuckles*

Eh, well,*he ticks* they actually haven't met her until Christmas day, which wasn't until a few weeks later. And I had some making up to do, which was perfect.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

"You promised me a drum lesson." Y/N panted out a laugh. Even after the high, she was able to push herself up on her elbows on the lofty bed. "To brush off my drumming skills because the drummer from the Six said I needed 'some help."

The said drummer followed her up and smiled against the corner of her lips. "Look who's gullible now." He teased.

He makes a trail of kisses from the neck and up, and with his mustache, earned him a few squeals and screams.

"One of these days I'm going have to elbow you or break your nose," she giggled out. "Warren, stop!"

He doesn't, and the sound of her giggling and laughing only encouraged him to kiss her harder on her neck, and with every pursing of his lips his mustache followed, tickling her. "You love my nose and my mustache."

"Warren, fuck!" Y/N moved away and grabbed her bedside alarm. "The dinner was supposed to start 2 hours ago."

"Well shit," Warren shrugged, clearly ignoring his lover's panic. "Too late for anything now. I think we should just stay here, on this bed, making lo-"

"Oy vey," she muttered under her breath, staring at the clock in dismay once again.

"Baby," he stifled a moan against her shoulder. "What did I say about speaking French to me? Fuck..."

"That wasn't even-I'm getting dressed." Y/N stumbles out of her entangled formation with her boyfriend to get to her closet.

When no movement followed her, Y/N threatened, "Warren, if you don't get up I'm dragging you out by your mustache."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

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yinza · 2 years

Photo

Magnus and Julia waltzing together in their cabin.

[Image Description: A digital sketch in sepia tones of Magnus and Julia from The Adventure Zone. Magnus is depicted as a tall, muscular man with scarred arms, short-cropped hair, and a beard with full sideburns. He is wearing his feathered cuirass and cargo pants. Julia is depicted as shorter with slightly darker skin and curly shoulder-length dark hair tied back in a kerchief. She wears a vest over a short-sleeved blouse and full skirt. Julia has her back mostly to the viewer, and Magnus is looking down at her with the fondest expression as they waltz. Sunlight from the windows behind them highlights them and throws light across the floor. /end ID]

#magnulia #magnus burnsides #julia burnsides #the adventure zone #taz #taz balance #yinza's artwork #fanart #sketchtember #sketchtember 2022 #scars

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 5 months

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"Fatima" - Gwyllm Llwydd :: Guillaume Gris

* * * *

I am making a home inside myself. A shelter of kindness where everything is forgiven, everything allowed—a quiet patch of sunlight to stretch out without hurry, where all that has been banished and buried is welcomed, spoken, listened to—released. A fiercely friendly place I can claim as my very own. I am throwing arms open to the whole of myself—especially the fearful, fault-finding, falling apart, unfinished parts, knowing every seed and weed, every drop of rain, has made the soil richer. I will light a candle, pour a hot cup of tea, gather around the warmth of my own blazing fire. I will howl if I want to, knowing this flame can burn through any perceived problem, any prescribed perfectionism, any lying limitation, every heavy thing. I am making a home inside myself where grace blooms in grand and glorious abundance, a shelter of kindness that grows all the truest things. I whisper hallelujah to the friendly sky. Watch now as I burst into blossom.

~ Julia Fehrenbacher

#Gwyllm Llwydd #Guillaume Gris #Fatima #poem #poetry #home #Julia Fehrenbacher

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krysanthii · 4 months

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I find Olrox to be a interesting character because he always speaks in double meaning which everything can be put into interpretation. For example: first episode; “Don’t listen to her Richter there is always a choice.”

Kinda found it strange why Olrox spoke to Richter first and even at all! Why communicate with the kid if he was solely there to kill Julia? Than it’s followed up years later where Richter pulls the same question on Olrox too. Perhaps he gave Julia a choice between sparing his lover’s life or he’ll hunt her down and kill her. Or if he hurt her son which is unlikely because I don’t see Olrox hurting kids.

Another example with Olrox seeking Mizrak out in the courtyard when he straddles Mizrak and playfully says: “let’s do this again, somewhere more comfortable”

That did itch my brain a little and I assume it was just queer baiting or a funny innuendo for the fan service or that Olrox wishes to discuss some where comfortable that is environmentally friendly because he is a vampire and they were out in the sun. Next scene they were in bed and oh— OH! congratulations on the show writers for not pulling back any punches! In the inn scene it’s far more insightful when Olrox drops in that “there are demons that were gods and some that still are” which Mizrak throws a hissy fit that there is ONE God. He doesn’t humor Olrox on that any further and stalks off. Olrox walks into the window watching him leaving while standing around direct sunlight and scoffs at Mizrak’s “one god” as if there is only ONE and that his only one god can protect him. Which brings to mind that Olrox being the avatar of Quetzalcoatl is far stronger and completely on the nose. As if saying Mizrak’s only one god will not protect him and it’s Olrox that protected Mizrak in the big fight in the end.

In the alley Drolta finds Olrox eating his Happy Meal and asks if he likes “striking terror in the hearts of children.” Which Olrox assumes the scrappy boy that ran off and he prefers to eat zesty blue bloods from the nobles. Drolta clarifies she meant Richter which he responds to “oh, him.” Richter was not in his mind at all. Richter didn’t have make much of an impact compared to how Olrox had on Richter. He calls Richter “SON of an old foe.” He doesn’t see Richter as a foe or enemy. He sort of smiles and is blasé about it. Julia was his enemy who killed his lover and his revenge died with her. Richter was simply collateral damage and not his enemy. So he doesn’t have any ill will towards Richter.

Another with Drolta and Olrox having a mid night stroll in the cemetary when she talks about creating a new world. Those can be two different things. One of them can be and OBVIOUSLY the fall of the Aztec empire where conquistadors wanted to convert the Aztec empire to Christianity and Catholic. Reading back in history the Aztec Empire became New Spain and the rest of South America like Colombia, Ecuador, and Venezuela were combined into a really powerful empire from New Spain or Viceroyalty of New Spain to The New Grenada and later The Grand Colombia. But that’s like years later.

His interactions with her are my favorite when he looks up at the sky and knows when the sun is coming up. Nor does he clarify when Drolta says vampires feel it because it’s dread. Olrox looks unbothered and asks her if she should be inside and concerned for her safety. Olrox si like Alucard and can be in the sun because of being the avatar of Quetzalcoatl. She asks flirtatiously where Olrox is staying while Olrox answers reciprocates the flirtation and says he likes “to keep his ear on the ground.” As if answering he likes to be a fly on the wall and to go unnoticed while watching everyone else tear down each other’s throats.

The most obvious part we see Olrox a little distress and and looking a bit vulnerable when he’s in the presence of Erzsebet. Olrox tends to butter people up with his interactions with playful banter but he doesn’t even hide his disgust on Erzsebet and doesn’t even let Drolta finish her introduction. His eye twitches whenever Erzsebet he refers to “dragon.”

Olrox is not a dragon but a serpent and dragons are a European creatures so referring Olrox a dragon is not only offensive but erasing his heritage and culture and who he is. Olrox is the avatar of Quetzalcoatl AKA the Feathered Serpent and it’s literally on the nose. Olrox gave a teeny tiny half ass bow when Drolta told him to and gave a full bow when Erzsebet showed off her glowy ball. The sheer disgust on his face not only tells me he had done this before. A lot of times from many conquerers he had to swallow his pride and bow. Anger, humiliation and that scathing look tells it all. He was forced to help these conquistadors to colonize his empire and slaughter his people and he’s reliving it again.

Another can of worms where Olrox pulls a Zuko officially joining on their side to take down Erzsebet. He has an ulterior motive and doesn’t want the world to be in eternal darkness. Olrox isn’t here to fight Richter at all and has nothing against him so their animosity is one sided. Olrox keeps a safe distance but not for himself but also Richter so he won’t get spooked. There is no audience to show off his influence like he had in cellar he was basically flirting or fucking with him. Calling Richter “Little Boy Belmont,” to unnerve him establish dominance and control of the situation so this fight won’t continue any further and mostly to protect Mizrak because Richter and Mizrak were about to brawl. Olrox was putting on a big show to showcase his powers and influence for the Abbot and Drolta to witness. Olrox has a reputation all the way across the ocean so he wanted to make a good impression and all he had to do was stand there and he made Richter Scooby Doo Run out of the cellar. The fight was neutralized and went on his merry way.

Olrox isn’t here to hurt Richter both physically or psychologically like that stunt in the cellar. It’s just them now in the woods. When Olrox says “I could’ve killed you three times by now, ironic I think for the both of us I need a Belmont.” I think there is more history between them that we did not see. Maybe it was with his mother and Olrox and Julia were friends or allies way back when. Olrox treated her with respect and calling her by her full name before the fight and was only here to kill Julia. He says he needs a Belmont but WHICH Belmont? It could be any Belmont! Julia was his go-to person before he killed her and Juste was in France and Richter was a child. Now he’s grown up and a fully realized hunter he’s capable of helping Olrox. I really don’t know what Olrox meant killing Richter “three times.” Maybe as a child, or in the cellar or now during the fight in the woods. There is an unspoken debt between Olrox and the Belmonts and during his long life he knew the Belmonts really well and had contact with them in some way.

Olrox is so mysterious of what he says or does and it isn’t subtle because there is always double meaning behind his words.

#castlevania olrox #castlevania #Olrox analysis #castlevania nocturne

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ponku-po · 6 days

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Goddess of Dreams - JuliaSunlight

#mlp #mlp:fim #my little pony #fim #mlp g4 #mlp art #princess luna #julia sunlight #traditional media

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fiirecracker · 1 year

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ooc & julia tag drop.

baby grill there are no gds here ( ooc. ) / you are part of the human heart ( julia.) / his soul and mine; they are one in the same; split one in twain and we both feel the pain ( julia & theo. ) / dear brother swear to me you'll stay close; never out of reach ( theo. ) / you got no clue just how it feels when everyone expects so much you can barely stand ( julia musings. ) / sunlight in her hair ( julia aesthetics. ) want everyone to adore me even though people's emotions are out of my control ( julia secrets.) / have a love affair with the sun ( general julia ships. ) / dreams of a future made real with each battle I win ( julia ic. )

#baby grill there are no gds here ( ooc. )#you are part of the human heart ( julia.)#dear brother swear to me you'll stay close; never out of reach ( theo. )#his soul and mine; they are one in the same; split one in twain and we both feel the pain ( julia & theo. )#want everyone to adore me even though people's emotions are out of my control ( julia secrets.)#you got no clue just how it feels when everyone expects so much you can barely stand ( julia musings. )#sunlight in her hair ( julia aesthetics. )#dreams of a future made real with each battle I win ( julia ic. )

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starlight-starfury · 4 months

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Under Starlit Boughs

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Characters: (F!Elf!MC) Raine Nightbloom x Tyril Starfury

Rating: General

Warnings: None, but I’ll warn you it’s unapologetically sappy 😅

Length: 2k

Summary: After talking about the old parties of legend, the Fae realise they finally have cause to throw one of their own.

Tags: @liviusofpella @watatsumi-island @inlocusmads @lilyoffandoms @brycesgirl @sophie-summer @lancelotsimp @megas-choices @princess-geek @julia-highstorms @citrusdarling @mavidraws @lover-also-fighter-also @otakudreamer @stars-are-within-me @mari-lwyd-fannibal-blog @camillyohfreire @mindlesschicca @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @choicesficwriterscreations (tagging everyone who interacted with this post, if anyone wants to be added to the tag-list permanently please let me know! I’ll be making a post about it in a few days as well 💜)

A/N: Because we deserved a cute Whimsywood date 🫶

A song of laughter echoed in the air as everyone sat crowded together under the shade of the pearl petal tree, telling stories and sharing fruits that tasted of sweet mallow and fine dew.

Even the forest seemed to find wonder in the joyous occasion as the trees sent forth a gentle breeze, causing the flowering boughs above to sway and the soft petals to cascade down around the storytellers like light rainfall.

As the Fae reminisced over tales passed down from their ancestors about the Light realm, questions began to arise, and Tyril spoke. “Stories of your parties have become legend in our world. What were they really like?”

“That was long before I sprouted,” the Fae Elder answered, silent throughout the conversation but now smiling fondly at the memory. “But I heard the tales from my elders. They spoke of intricate fashion, delectable foods and wine that tasted of Light.”

“You mean to say, you’ve never thrown one yourselves?” Raine asked.

Willow shook their head. “Very few of us remain, and we’ve no cause to celebrate of late. Not with Shadow lurking so close.”

“Of course you do!” She said. “You’ve been trapped in the shadow realm for centuries, isn’t returning to your homeland worth celebrating?”

The Fae whispered and hummed amongst themselves for a moment, their murmurs like the faint rustling of leaves amid the forest undergrowth before they leapt to their feet enthusiastically.

“Raine is right!” Willow declared, beaming. “Let us all rejoice. To returning to the realm of Light, and to honour our new friends who will help ward our forest from the Shadow!”

The glade seemed to thrum with excitement as everyone stood and the Fae began making their preparations. Raine made her way over to Tyril, who had leant against one of the ancient trees and was gazing around at the magical clearing, awestruck.

“I see some things never change,” she grinned. “I’m glad you finally got to meet the Fae, Tyril.”

A smile touched his lips as she reached his side. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

He nodded back to the forest, where multicoloured orbs of light drifted through the air like fireflies. “It’s incredible that a place so vibrant and full of life can exist in a world such as this.”

Raine looked towards the enchanted scenery, admiring how the trees seemed to bend and dip their branches in greeting to the Fae as they walked past, and how the glowing flowers bloomed in clusters like starlit nebulae below. It made her mind drift back to the Deadwood, the decayed forest merely remnants of a distant memory compared to the magical sight before her.

“Well,” she said at last, “if all this travelling has taught me anything, it’s that beauty often thrives in chaos.”

Tyril’s eyes softened as his gaze shifted to her new attire. She looked like a forest nymph or woodland goddess in the sylvan dress, woven of emerald silk and flowing gossamer that shimmered like dappled sunlight alongside the entwined branches climbing across her fair skin. A crown of leaves was nestled in her hair, and her eyes shone violet as the wisteria blossoms above.

“It does, indeed.” His smile was tender as he reached up to gently cup her cheek and she swayed into his touch, his words a faint whisper against her skin. “Even the stars envy the brightness at which you shine.”

His sentiments were proven true as she beamed under his praise, but before she could answer him the Fae returned to the clearing all at once, and the moment was disturbed like ripples spreading across the surface of a tranquil pond.

“Come, come!” Willow beckoned, and the group reconvened beneath the pearl petal tree once more.

Raine noticed some of the Fae were holding instruments, elegant wooden flutes with budding sprouts that appeared to have been carved from the branches of a fallen tree.

“Is this one of your traditions?” She asked.

“Yes!” Tansy clapped. “The Fae Circle is one of our oldest celebrations, with much music and dancing!”

“Hang on, a Fae Circle?” Mal said before turning to the rest of the group, voice hushed. “Are you sure this isn’t just a trick to keep us here forever?”

“Mal!” Nia scolded. “Don’t be rude!”

“What, haven’t you heard the legends? Mortals who entered a Fae circle were never seen again.”

Imtura followed his gaze pointedly towards where a series of petrified faces were engraved in the bark of a large tree. “…Those aren’t just carvings, are they?”

Willow’s large eyes saddened, a swirling mist shimmering within the dark pupils. “They came to harm our forest, but the trees are our home and family. They would have plucked us from the soil one by one and uprooted everything!”

Raine leant in to whisper to Tyril. “Is all of this true?”

He nodded slowly. “I’ve said before that the Fae are made of magic down to their very essence. That power can become wild and unrestrained if provoked, and it sounds as though they’ve been a target in the shadow realm for some time.”

The nearby Fae’s ears began to droop as Willow continued speaking. “We try to strengthen our roots and bloom despite our hardships, but the trees cast a heavy shadow, and our numbers grow smaller still.”

Raine frowned. “You won’t have to worry about that in the Light realm, we’ll make sure no one harms your forest.”

Willow’s eyes brightened once more at her encouragement. “We cannot thank you enough! Please understand, the Fae Circle is an act of joy and all will be safe. And since you have come to help us, the forest will always remember you as friends.”

Tansy nodded. “The trees also like it when we play music to them, their boughs are always lighter and their leaves shine bright.”

“How does the Fae Circle start?” Tyril asked, and those holding instruments sat themselves upon the grass, lifting their flutes as they began playing a delicate yet jubilant tune.

“Everyone must stand in a circle around the tree and hold hands!” Willow said cheerfully, and Raine smiled as Tyril entwined his fingers with hers.

The rest of the Fae were the ones who began leading the dance, and the others quickly picked up the unfamiliar steps. It wasn’t long before everyone found themselves spinning and twirling around the pearl petal tree in unison.

Laughter filled the air once more, and the sweet petals drifted down around them as though joining in the dance as well until everyone was rosy-cheeked and breathless.

The celebration carried on through brief respites, sharing refreshing drinks between dances and telling stories both old and new. For once, both the realms were united in their joy, and together they could help the Fae create a brighter future for their people, and for each other.

When all the air had escaped her lungs, Raine wandered towards the edge of the glade to catch her breath. It wasn’t long until Tyril found his way to her side, and together they both sat down on a fallen, moss-covered log.

She looked up to where the branches of the great trees parted to reveal the vast night sky, an expanse of darkness that seemed impenetrable by even the brightest light, unusually empty and bare.

“There are no stars here,” she murmured. Without them, the sky felt hollow, like a canvas lying blank. No famed hero’s legacies lied etched across the surface, no constellations adorned the sky shimmering with stories still untold, no glimmer of hope was to be found in the endless dark that stretched on eternal.

“Then we make our own.” Tyril said, before he cupped his hands and little motes of starlight drifted from his fingers into the air. The colourful specks hovered there for a moment, emitting a soft glow that pulsed in unison with the rhythm of their beating hearts before rising up to settle themselves among the lush branches.

“They’re beautiful.” She smiled and they both sat quietly for a moment, feeling more at ease in a realm full of chaos and uncertainty while in each other’s presence, watching as the lights twinkled softly above.

“Do you find it strange? Seeing a sky without them?” Raine asked.

He nodded slowly. “In Undermount we revere the stars, our very existence is mirrored in their being. The history of our people is written among them, with each great victory and tragedy carved into the constellations like a woven tapestry to display all we have been through, and all that is to come.”

Tyril lifted his gaze past the tree branches. “To imagine a place without their existence feels…wrong.”

She looked down, subconsciously beginning to rub her wrist. The skin where her bindings had been was red and raw, another reminder that she had allowed herself to be captured, that she had been weak.

A frown creased his expression as he glanced at her hands, but his voice was gentle when he spoke. “None of us blame you for what happened.”

“And what if I blame myself?” She whispered, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “Everyone went through so much because of me, especially you…”

Raine trailed off as he slowly lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing soft kisses to the inside of her wrist, each brush of his lips lighter than a butterfly’s wings.

She dipped her head as her cheeks flushed light pink, warming under his gaze before he pulled her into his arms and she leant her head to rest against his shoulder.

He murmured into her hair. “I couldn’t protect you last time and I…I blamed myself every day you were gone because of it.”

“Tyril…” she frowned. “None of that was your fault.”

“I know, but that does not change the fact that I failed you.” His eyes filled with sorrow as he traced a finger along her jaw, tilting her chin to look at him. “Every day my heart ached for your return. To see you again, even if you were but a fragment of a dream…”

She let the tears fall as she pressed her lips softly to his, overcome by emotion as she ran her fingers through his raven hair, longer than she remembered. His kiss held all his heartache and remorse from that painful year before he leant back, resting his forehead against her own.

They stayed that way until a softer tune began to play from the more lively part of the forest, and Raine threaded her fingers through his. “May I?”

“Always,” he smiled as she led him to his feet, the two of them alone in their own section of the woods. “Do you remember the first time we did this?”

“Danced?” She asked, and a pleasant night breeze surrounded them as Tyril guided her into position. “You mean at the masquerade?”

He nodded. “Sometimes that feels like a lifetime ago, as though everything has changed since then.”

“And yet, nothing at all.” She said, her voice quiet and tinged with sorrow.

His gaze was far away for a moment before he looked back towards her once more. “Never mind that now, all that matters is having you back in my arms.”

“And there's no place I'd rather be,” she smiled.

He spun her into a graceful twirl before pulling her back in close, and they swayed together gently as the song slowly faded into the next.

They danced until Raine found herself backed against one of the grand oak trees, and when she looked up she could still see the little stars Tyril had summoned earlier hovering among the branches, some of them twinkling as though they were shooting across the sky.

“I like having our own little universe,” she said, and the bark was rough against her fingertips as he leaned in for a kiss once again, like a blazing star that would sooner collapse than part from her touch.

“The night sky is ours,” he assured, and the rest of the forest seemed to melt away under his embrace, until it was just the two of them dancing beneath their stars above.

#may i provide some fluff in these trying times (ch18 aftermath)#choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #blades of light and shadow #tyril starfury #tyril x mc #raine nightbloom #tyril x raine #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices stories you play

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coneyislandbabey · 1 year

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light of the love that i found. -> w.rojas

WARNINGS: maybe profanities?

SYNOPSIS: Yours and Warren's wedding. (Part of the mariposaverse, other related fics can be found on my masterlist.) word count: 2,368

NOTES: Written for this request! Me panicking when I realized writing this request meant I had to write believable wedding vows lmfao

“How about this weekend?”

Warren was sitting with you on the deck of the Laurel Canyon house, Mariposa sleeping on his chest. It was a hot August evening, the last vestiges of sunlight disappearing beneath the horizon, and she was wearing the cutest little baby-sized sunhat that Camila had bought for Julia when she was a baby and passed on to you guys, now that her own daughter was grown. You couldn’t stop taking pictures of them.

“For the wedding?” you asked.

“Yeah, why not?” You and Warren had been half-heartedly planning your wedding for the last four months, ever since Mariposa was born. Back when you’d told him you were pregnant, you had both decided to get married soon after she was born, but frankly being new parents had hit you like a truck, and there was hardly enough energy left in either of you at the end of the day to try to plan anything. You talked about it a lot, though; Warren reminded you every day how excited he was to get married to you.

“Where would we have it?” you asked. “You know, you usually have to plan these things at least a little bit ahead of time with the venue.”

Warren started to laugh and then stopped himself, peering down at the sleeping baby bouncing on his chest with wide eyes. “Actually, I was thinking we could just do it on the beach. The vows and the ceremony and all that. And Camila said we could have our reception at their house!”

“That sounds… kind of perfect, baby,” you said, after giving it some thought. You hadn’t ever wanted a big, elaborate wedding, and now that your four month old baby would be in attendance, a long ceremony and a big party were out of the question, anyway. Just your little family on the beach, an officiant, and the band who had become your family out here in Los Angeles sounded like the perfect wedding. And you knew that Camila would take care to make the house look as beautiful as any official venue would be for the reception.

“So? Saturday?” Warren asked, the smile growing on his face.

“Saturday,” you agreed.

On Saturday morning, you woke before the sun. And for once, it wasn’t because the baby was crying– rather, it was because you were nervous, excited, strung taut with restless energy regarding the day ahead. The ceremony was scheduled for late afternoon, so you had an impossible stretch of hours to cover in between.

You sat up in bed, looking over in the gray dawn light at Warren’s sleeping form. He was laying on his stomach, face obscured by his unruly hair and the soft surface of the pillow. Even unconscious, one of his hands was reaching out towards your side of the bed. A grin so wide it strained your cheeks bloomed on your face, and you wore it unabashedly, chest fuzzy with overwhelming love. You were getting to marry him today. This wonderful enigma of a man, your favorite person in the whole world, would be yours forever by the time the sun set.

You were all the more overwhelmed by the fact of it all, because there was a while there that you weren’t sure it would happen. When Warren had told you he wanted to marry you the night you told him you were pregnant, you had wanted to believe it more than anything. And you thought maybe he really believed it. But who knew what would change over the course of the pregnancy? Who knew what would change once the baby arrived? You loved Warren for committing himself to being there for you, but wanting to marry you, wanting to be tied to you in another way than the baby that shared your genes, another way than being your best friend– well, you weren’t sure that would still be true when the time came.

But Mariposa arrived, and Warreen only doubled down on telling you he wanted to get married. Hell, you were still in the hospital, having freshly given birth, and Warren was already asking you when you wanted to tie the knot. You had laughed, exhausted, then, and told him to ask again after you’d gotten a full night’s sleep. That didn’t happen until after Mariposa was at least a month old, and had started to be better at sleeping. And then he was asking again, and you were thrilled to still be talking about it, thrilled that he still wanted this family. You wanted it more than anything, but that whole time you had been too scared to let your heart believe in it. You should have known better, that Warren would never have said it if he hadn’t fully meant it.

“You’re staring,” Warren mumbled into the pillow, startling you into a jump.

“God, War, you scared me,” you said, laughing. “I didn’t think you were awake.”

Warren rolled over just enough so that his face was no longer smothered in the pillow. “Don’t think I slept much at all last night. I’m too excited.”

You shuffled over the bed until you got to him and laid down, his arms immediately coming to circle you in a tight snuggle. “I can’t believe the day is actually here.”

“It’s about time,” Warren exclaimed. “It’s almost been a year since I told you I wanted to marry you, and I’ve been itching to get a ring on that finger ever since.”

“Oh, believe me, I’ve been waiting to get to call you my husband that entire time,” you responded.

“You didn’t have to wait! I’ve been telling strangers that you’re my wife the whole time.”

“Warren!” you said, smacking him on the arm. “I feel like I’ve been missing out.”

“Well, after today you won’t be missing out anymore,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple before sitting up. “Come with me to smoke a joint and watch the rest of the sunrise?”

You felt beautiful.

There hadn’t been enough time for you to do the whole proper wedding dress thing, but you weren’t sure that a big, classic white dress would have been the right choice for you anyway. Instead, a few weeks ago you had been shopping with Camila and Karen on a rare day off, and you had come across a beautiful floor-length sundress in a pattern of deep green and cream. You ogled it in the window, and Karen had insisted you try it on. When you came out of the dressing room adorned in it, both women had gushed over it. Looking in the mirror, you had offhandedly mentioned that it could be a good candidate for your wedding dress, whenever the wedding happened. Immediately, Karen and Camila agreed, and it had been hanging in your closet waiting for your special day ever since.

Now, with the dress on, you couldn’t imagine wearing anything else for the occasion. You had paired it with your favorite sandals and jewelry, and Karen had done your makeup while Camila did your hair. You looked ethereal, and you couldn’t wait to see what Warren thought of it.

You emerged from Karen’s room, where you had been getting ready, and walked down into the living room, where Warren was waiting for you, looking handsome as ever in a cream linen suit. When Warren caught sight of you, his mouth dropped wide open for a second before morphing into that giant grin of his that you loved so much.

He brought his hand to his lips and let out a loud wolf whistle. “My wife is fucking foxy as hell!”

You laughed, shaking your head at him. “Foxy, yes, but not your wife yet, Rojas.”

“Every way except legally you are, Rojas,” he retorted quickly. Then, quieter, he said, “Really, baby, you look… I mean, Aphrodite herself could be standing next to you and I wouldn’t notice.”

You felt your cheeks heat with blush, and wanted to let out a giddy giggle over the fact that you were getting to marry a man that still gave you butterflies as though you were a schoolgirl with a crush. Instead, you crossed the few steps between you and grabbed his face, bringing his lips to yours.

“Hey! No kissing before the wedding!” Graham said as he entered the room.

“That’s not a rule!”

There was no aisle, so you and Warren walked through the sand hand in hand. Eddie followed behind you, carrying Mariposa in her little sunbeam yellow dress, the rest of the band, Camila and Julia, and Teddy and Rod following behind. The late afternoon sun was golden in the sky, the ocean a brilliant blue. The two of you stopped in front of the officiant, everyone else settling into the small grouping of wooden chairs.

“Okay, I know none of you want this to be elaborate, so let’s get into it, shall we?” The officiant said, causing the group to laugh. “Warren, your vows.”

Warren cleared his throat, squeezing your hands with his. He was smiling in a way you’d never seen before, so softly that it made your heart ache. “(y/n), when I met you we were twelve years old. I was a stupid kid back then, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life or who I wanted to be. But you? Even then, you had such a way about you. You knew exactly what you wanted, exactly who you were, and there was nothing I could do except be drawn to you, even then. You have always been so bright and untouchable, and I couldn’t believe you even wanted to be my friend. And now I’m standing here at the friggin’ alter across from you? Getting to pledge myself to you for the rest of our lives is my biggest privilege. This life we’ve built together is bigger than anything I could have hoped for. You’ve given me so much– all of your love, our kickass daughter– and I cannot wait to spend every minute I have left on this planet proving to you that I’m worth all of it, and pouring all the love I have within me into you and Mariposa. Te amo, mi corazón. Forever.”

You gave a watery smile, doing your best to keep the tears in so your words are clear and your makeup doesn’t run. “Warren Rojas, you are every dream come true. You’ve been my truest friend since we were kids, and there’s never been any doubt in my mind that we would stand by each other’s sides for life– I just didn’t guess that I’d have the utter privilege of calling you my husband through all of that. You wear your heart on your sleeve, you always have, and I feel like the luckiest person in the world that you’ve chosen me to be the one to guard it. Every day I feel like I couldn’t possibly love you more than I already do, and then I watch you be an amazing father to our daughter, I watch you be so incredibly passionate about your art, I watch you take on life with this inspiring vigor, and somehow my heart grows even larger to accommodate your presence inside of it. I love you, Warren. I’m here promising to love you today, and tomorrow, and for the rest of our lives and everything that comes after.”

You were crying by the time you were finished with your vows, and so was Warren. His grip on your hands was ironclad, and you squeezed back as tightly as you could, pouring as much love into the simple contact as you possibly could.

“(y/n) (l/n), do you take Warren Rojas to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the officiant asked.

“I do,” you said, nodding your head vigorously.

“And do you, Warren Rojas, take (y/n) (l/n) to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“Hell yes I do,” he grinned.

“Then I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride.”

In half a second, Warren pulled on your hands until you were flush against him. One arm went around your waist, his wide hand spread across the small of your back, his other hand went to cradle your neck as he dipped you backward in a theatrical, passionate kiss. You wound your arms tightly around his neck, smiling into the kiss. Dimly, you were aware of your friends– your family, really– cheering in the background.

Later, at the reception, you were sitting at one of the little tables Camila had set up, sipping at a flute of the best champagne you’d ever had. You felt warm and bubbly, impossibly bathed in love. Not just yours and Warren’s love, either, but the incredible love of your friends and the little family you had cobbled together so far away from where you’d grown up. You couldn’t fathom how lucky you’d gotten, having all these people in your life.

“May I have this dance?” Warren asked, standing in front of you with his hand out to you, a soft grin on his face.

“Why, of course,” you responded, putting your champagne flute on the table and accepting his hand. He led you out to the tiny makeshift dance floor, and you began swaying together to the music and background laughter and conversation.

“We’re doin’ alright for ourselves, aren’t we?” Warren asked after a moment. He was looking over to the side, where Graham was standing, Mariposa in his arms. Eddie was standing with him, half in conversation with Graham, but his eyes never leaving his little goddaughter. Billy was on the dance floor, holding Julia and pretending to slow dance with her, and Camila was snapping a photo of them. Karen stood at the little bar conversing with Teddy and Rod, who you were absolutely pleased had stuck around for the reception.

“Baby, we’re doing more than alright for ourselves,” you laughed. “This life we have is better than anything I could have asked for.”

“Yeah, we’re killin’ it,” Warren nodded seriously, sending you into laughter again.

“We are,” you hummed. “I love you, Rojas.”

“I love you more, Rojas.”

tags: @eonnyx @xleiaorgana

#daisy jones and the six #djats #warren rhodes #warren rhodes x reader #warren rojas #warren rojas x reader #eddie roundtree #eddie loving #graham dunne #camila dunne #karen karen #karen sirko #billy dunne #julia dunne

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