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niawritess · 3 years

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The Lovestruck~ Final.

(15th November)

Tapping his shoes constantly on the marble floor, his legs kept shaking which made him hold his knee, but all in vain since he couldn't stop the nervousness inside him. Dressed in a black tuxedo, Baekhyun took a deep breath to calm himself down before almost, immediately standing up to walk back and forth to subside his nervousness.

It was finally, the day everyone has been waiting specifically, you and Baekhyun. However, at his most special day, his heart, his mind, even his body wasn't working according to him.

"Why are you like this?" Kyungsoo walked in the grooms waiting room, as he watched his best friend walking back and forth in a nervous state.

Baekhyun groaned making himself seated again on the couch and looked at Kyungsoo. "I have never been this nervous before... Like not even giving the presentation... This is confusing."

"This is normal." Kyungsoo stated. "Though... It might be confusing for you being like this but normally people do get nervous on their wedding."

Kyungsoo's word did nothing but made Baekhyun glare at him where Kyungsoo just shrugged before shuffling under his coat and fished out a small black bottle which he gave it to him. "Drink this, you'll feel better."

"Where did you get this?"

"I didn't, Y/n asked me to get it." Kyungsoo spoke before smirking. "I didn't really expected you to be nervous but maybe she knew it."

Baekhyun rolled his eyes. "I can see how you guys are making fun of me, only my wife cares for me."

"Keep this up till you get to the asile." Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. "I am going to check the venue since Junmyeon hyung is taking care of it alone."

Baekhyun chuckled nodding as Kyungsoo walked out leaving him behind as he was feeling better than before. No matter how much they tease or make fun of each other, he just knows that his friends and him, always have each other's back.

It's been two weeks to the proposal day, and the next week, you both were being dragged into a boutique to buy wedding dresses but separately, which led Baekhyun to whine the whole day because he, himself wanted to see you trying beautifully, however, his and your family were having too much fun making him sulk.

And, it's also been a week since he has seen you because of the so called traditions in the family, where bride and groom can't meet, not even see eachother and now he was missing you crazily and was dying to see you where he also knew, you would be feeling the same.

His phone rang making him snap out, as he checked the caller ID and a smile crept on his lips before answering it and exclaimed with an enthusiasm. "Coffee bean!"

Laughter could be heard from the other side which made him confuse before he let out a exhasperated sigh. "You better stop it, this is second time you have done this."

"Aw, Is my soon to be brother-in-law angry?" The feminine voice which he has remembered, his best friend's wife and his soon to be wife's bestfriend, one and only Ria, who could come up with this prank.

His heart did a flip when he heard your voice behind as you were asking for some tissues. "Hey, put my wife on the phone."

"She is not your wife, yet." He could imagine her smirking evil making him bite his lip frustratingly. "Here I thought you were on my side."

She laughed. "I am, but right now, let me be your sister in law. Okay, Mr. Brother-in-law, see you at the wedding!"

Before he could say anything, the call was cut off and he groaned with the little pout following behind on his lips. The door suddenly cracked opened, revealing his friends, coming inside dressed in a full suit and began to laugh at his impatient friend.

"I am actually suing your wife after getting married." He stared at Chanyeol with his ever so angry look which did nothing but made his laugh more. "Why are you so impatient? You'll meet Y/n outside, so be patient my friend."

"Aigoo, who would believe that you're getting married, Hyung." Jongin spoke staring at his friend's frustrated face and Baekhyun rolled his eyes. "Do you guys have to make fun of me when I am nervous here?"

"Why are you though?" Minseok commented confusingly. "Even Y/n isn't nervous as you."

"She's not?" Baekhyun asked surprised and Yixing nodded. "We came here after meeting her and she didn't looked nervous at all."

Baekhyun eyes sparkled. "Really? How does she look?"

"She looks like a bride." Sehun said, straight truth which made all guys laugh and Baekhyun, to glare at him before Jongdae decided to help him as he patted his shoulder. "She looks beautiful and you, stop being so nervous or we'll think you're going on a war or something."

"Well, it's not less than a war." Jongin said snickering and Everyone laughed as now, Baekhyun was less nervous and more happy with an excitement to see you.

The door opened again, and this time it was Mr. Byun and Mrs. Byun, walking towards him with a tender smile on their faces before Mr Byun held Baekhyun's shoulder firmly while fixing his collar. "Young man, you have actually become a man now."

Baekhyun chuckled. "I was always a man."

Mr. Byun smiled nodding. "Listen to me carefully now, marriage is a very important part of your life and you are taking a big step towards it. It's a huge responsibility, not just for you but for the girl you're marrying to, so Y/n's care and happiness is your responsibility, just make sure you're doing your part well. "

"I will." Baekhyun immediately nodded before his eyes went large to see his mother bawling her eyes out making him gasp dramatically. "Eomma! Not the water tank, you're makeup would get smudged then Y/n's going to scold me!"

Mrs Byun slapped his arm. "Don't talk about my daughter in law like that!"

He pouted. "So, she already has sides."

"Obviously, she knows who's she marrying to." Jake said taking everyone's attention as he stood by the door frame smiling at him before walking in to tease the nervous man even more.

______________

A wide smile was playing on your lips where you bit your lip to prevent yourself from giggling out loud since you were feeling happy about your special day. A white, off shoulder ballgown dress hugged your figure with flowery embroidery illuminating around your upper half sleeves while your hair, styled in a braided updo leaving half of it in a wavy style.

Sniffing the flowers in your hands, a lively smile appeared on your lips while feeling giddy and excited to see Baekhyun who you haven't seen, since a week but at the same time, you knew this wait would be worth it.

"Ayo~ Aren't you too happy bestie?" Ria cooed, dressed in her pastel pink colored dress, fixing the strand of the hair putting it around your temple while giving your look a last touch up and you grinned. "Yes I am, bestie."

"And I am happy to see you happy." She smiled widely trying hard not to cry and as you noticed her expression, you giggled making her slap your arm lightly before hugging you eventually.

"But... Aren't you nervous?" She pulled away, frowning and you smiled bringing your index finger and thumb closer. "A little."

Her forehead creased in amusement. "Well, good for you because you have to look after your too nervous husband to be."

You giggled, before the door opened revealing your two most, chaotic yet the ones whom your life couldn't have been amazing as there stood, your brothers dressed in their Grey suits looking handsome.

Jaehyun walked in with Daniel following behind him with an amused look on their faces making you chuckle. "What? Why are you both surprised? Do I look that good?"

Jaehyun gasped dramatically cupping his mouth. "What to do, potato? Even the make up couldn't do its work."

You bit your lip fuming before grabbing a water bottle beside you and threw it in his face which he immediately caught it perfectly as he gave you a smirk making you roll your eyes. "Are you really my brother?"

"Dan...," You looked at Daniel beside Jaehyun and smiled. "How do I look?"

He stared at you blankly. "You...look like that pasta you made last time."

You closed your eyes sighing, controlling your urge to not to kill them on your special day while both of your brothers were so close to laughing and eventually, they did.

"You think I don't know that you both empty the whole fry pan that night?" You retorted, sassily making them silent as they stood surprised while Ria just stood there with a poker face as this was just neverending scene to witness.

"How do you know that?"

"I have spies, my brothers." You smiled in victory and they both groaned knowing who those spies were before you laughed out loud at their faces making them laugh back.

Jaehyun walked towards before grabbing your hand to make stand up and held your shoulders, as he stared at you seriously. "You know I am just a call away right? I am still your secret trunk so whatever and whenever you want to talk or tell me something, just do it, okay?"

And that's when your heart welled up seeing his brother mood and nodded before he smiled. "If he does something which I know he won't because I know he's mature and loves you too much to hurt you but still, just tell me and I will deal with him."

You slapped his arm while laughing. "I'll kill you if you do that."

"Right, Baekhyunee Hyung wouldn't dare to do that knowing how hard your punch is." Daniel commented as he stood beside you making you laugh even more before both of them hugged you, and another one jumped who was none other than Ria herself.

Your mom's voice got your attention as you four pulled away to see your mom walking inside, in a light pink and purple mixture colored Hanbok and looked so beautiful where behind her your dad, in a black suit looking dashing.

As he walked towards you, his eyes teared up and you looked at him in awe. "Dad.. What...?"

"Gosh, you look so beautiful." He sniffled and you bit your trembling lip before hugging him tightly. "You look more beautiful than your mother."

"Ow!" He whined pulling away as a hard slap was landed on his back by your mom making you all laugh before your mom stared at you with teary yet smiling eyes. "My daughter is always beautiful."

"Seriously, why is everyone crying?" You whined and Daniel wrapped his arm around your shoulder. "Noona, we're just really happy that we won't have a potato in the house now."

"You're so dead." You muttered gritting your teeth and was about to hit him but looking at your mom's stern eyes, everyone went serious as you went to sit on the couch back.

"Ria, look after her so she won't jump around like a cat again since we're going out to greet the guests." Your mom ordered her as she walked out dragging the three chaotic men with her and you made a grumpy face as Ria couldn't stop laughing at your mom's words.

"Y/n! Your most loving person is here!" You let out a laugh knowing who's high pitch voice was as walked inside, your sister like friend, who was once your owner too, Rose, in a light blue dress with her always shiny smile.

She gasped. "You look gorgeous, lady!"

You and Ria laughed at her reaction as she instantly sat beside, hugging you. "Gosh, my little sister has finally grown up."

"Ughh." You groaned playfully. "Seriously, you too?"

"It got cringy, right?" She looked at Ria who nodded with you following before you three broke out in laughter.

_____________________

5:04 PM

It was finally the time to walk down the asile, your most awaited moment, as you stepped out of the brides room, a fresh breeze hit your face making smile while your eyes roamed around the outdoor area. This was the same place where you both came to stargaze last time and you casually joked about getting married at this place but you didn't know that Baekhyun would take that seriously as you got an actual shock when you got to know about the venue.

Oh, how can you not love this person?

Linking your arm around your dad's, your head tilted to the side to look at him as you felt yourself shaking inside where he looked at you with an assuring smile that it'll be alright and you knew it will be for sure. Taking slow steps towards the asile, your eyes averted ahead to see the lights around the branches of green trees and either side were the wooden chairs giving it a perfect look.

Looking at everyone, seated there were your mom with her biggest smile and your brothers watching you with a proud smile with Baekhyun's family, looking at you with so much tenderness. Looking at the other side to see your friends with their usual understanding and proud smiles as why not, because they all were the cupids of your life.

As you looked ahead, your breath hitched, the moment your eyes met his stunned ones, standing there waiting for you as how he always had. You could feel your heart pounding against your chest as you were walking towards him, the flashbacks of your moments were flashing in your mind making your eyes teary with those beautiful moments.

Baekhyun just stood there stunned for a while watching you, looking so ever beautiful and he was falling all over again. Biting his lower lip, he gulped down the lump forming as his eyes burned making his vision blurry while he took a deep breath to calm down before he felt Kyungsoo, patting his back.

Aproaching him, your dad pulled Baekhyun in a fatherly hug, as he patted his back gently before pulling away where he placed your hand on his hand, giving you to the person who was your home now. You bit your lip, controlling yourself from crying before locking your eyes with his glossy ones and he gave you his most beautiful smile.

"We're here." He whispered, his hold tightening around your hand and you nodded smiling back. "As we should."

"You...look..," He trailed off, licking his lips as he went speechless and you peeked over his expression chuckling. "I look handsome?"

He let out a chuckle with everyone laughing at your little joke before Baekhyun shook his head. "You look really really beautiful. And I have finally kidnapped you, and I don't even care if I got behind the bars for it."

You laughed shaking your head as he giggled while Kyungsoo gave him a look but his smile was saying something else.

The vows were taken, rings were exchanged, and sealed it with a kiss of promise. His palm pressed against your jaw gently, stroking his thumb over your cheek as his other hand rested on the side of your waist and as he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes spotted his favorite flushed cheeks.

He couldn't help but smile fondly before pecking your lips again softly taking you by surprise as you jolted up to look at him making him giggle like a baby while everyone laughed. Giving him a playful glare, you lightly punched his arm making him laugh even more as he kissed your knuckles before pulling away as everyone came to congratulate you.

"Oh My, finally, you have become our daughter in law." Mrs Byun cooed, as she pulled you in a hug where a fake cough made you both pull away to see Baekhyun's sulk expression. "I got married too, why aren't you congratulating me?"

You chuckled making him glare at you playfully and to make him even more sulk, you side hugged Mrs Byun as she played along while Baekhyun pouted defeatedly as he nodded. "Alright, sides have changed."

You both laughed before Mrs Byun hugged him and Mr Byun gave you a fatherly hug while patting your head as he hugged his son after. Walked in your dad towards you with his teary eyes and hugged you tightly before patting Baekhyun's shoulder. "Take care of her or I'll come for you."

Both of them laughed as Baekhyun nodded while you shook your head smiling at them before your mom came in smiling but instead of coming to you, she engulfed Baekhyun in a hug. "My son in law looks so handsome."

Baekhyun smiled shyly thanking her before she looked at you confusingly before laughing as she hugged you. "Why are you sulking?"

"I'm not." You hugged her back tightly as she rubbed your back in a comforting way making you sigh before you pulled away to see your brothers hugging Baekhyun.

"Hyung, How do you feel about this marriage?" Daniel asked making you glare at him and Baekhyun chuckled before looking at you with a smile. "I feel amazing."

Your cheeks flushed as you looked away before looking at your brothers who just groaned at his answer. "I shouldn't have asked this question."

"Listen, Baekhyun." Jaehyun leaned in to his side. "If she does something, I am only a call away."

You gasped hearing his words which he said to you earlier. "This conman!"

You attempted to grab him but Baekhyun's arm around your waist prevented as he pulled you closer. "Let's not make our wedding a killing day, coffee bean."

You looked at him pouting and he imitated your expression while nodding cutely before you glared at Jaehyun. "I am letting you off today."

"I am letting you off today." He mimicked your tone before chuckling as he patted your head while Daniel hugged you and both of them walked away.

"So, you did got married to this brat." Minseok commented as he patted Baekhyun's shoulder and he rolled his eyes while you giggled nodding before your friends came one by one to congratulate.

"Ahh, my bestie is married already." Ria came forward with a fake crying face and you chuckled pulling her in a hug before she let go and looked at Baekhyun. "You have to take care of my bestie."

"Of course, I will take care of her more than you have ever had." Baekhyun said, confidently making a face at her. "You just wait, I will get back at you for pranking me."

Ria giggled. "That was part of fun, but aren't you glad that I was on your side and even played cupid for you."

"That...," He trailed off as he glanced at you, smiling. "I will always be."

"Okay, do this at your own new home, we have guests here." Ria spoke before winking at you as your eyes widened, noticing her playful look before slapping her arm while Baekhyun laughed where Ria walked away.

"Hey, Sister-in-law!" Sehun's voice beamed as he walked towards you before pushing his phone screen infront of your faces and you gasped. "Sooyoung!"

Sooyoung couldn't attend the wedding as her dad's health got bad and they had take him out of the country for his treatment but he was doing better now. However, Sooyoung didn't find it appropriate to attend the wedding while her dad was lying on the bed, so she couldn't join.

Baekhyun cutely waved at her. "You're being missed here. Now who would catch y/n's flower?"

She laughed. "I'll ask Sehun to do that."

"I am a busy person." Sehun remarked back earning an eye roll from three people before Sooyoung suddenly gasped. "Gosh, you both look so amazing!"

"Sehun-ah, I want to see their whole look!" Sooyoung exclaimed making you both giggle and sehun rolled his eyes. "I am not an assistant."

But, he eventually did as Sooyoung let out a squeal. "You look so beautiful!"

"I know right, I am." Baekhyun spoke smiling playfully and you chuckled nudging him lightly before the host of your wedding, Chanyeol clapped his hands to get everyone's attention.

"Okay, we have prepared something for you both, so let's enjoy!" He exclaimed, clapping as he stepped aside while you looked at Baekhyun. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Baekhyun slightly laughed. "And I am really excited!"

You rolled your eyes before a music erupted, startling you as Baekhyun looked at you shook hearing the familiar song and you gasped cupping your mouth seeing a projector while a video was being played, where you were dancing with your brothers in your parents wedding anniversary. "No way."

JYP'S Honey.

Three of you were childrens, wearing a cap and black sunglasses as you were dancing between them and your cheeks flushed as you hid your face behind the flowers where you heard a giggle from Baekhyun. "Gosh, you are so adorable."

"Ugh! I am not!" You whined making him pinch your cheek as he laughed softly and you let out a shy chuckle. "Gosh, they still had this."

Suddenly, the woos from the audience could be heard taking both of your attention as you looked at your brothers coming to the stage with black sunglasses on their faces making your jaw drop. "Are you serious?"

"Noona, this one's for you." Daniel spoke as he slid his glasses a little to send a wink at you making you and Baekhyun giggle before Ria stepped on the stage with black sunglasses as she stood between them.

You sighed smiling as you realized they were reenacting the scene making you feel awed. As the song played again, three of them started dancing like how you did, earning some woos and making everyone dance along with them. You laughed feeling Baekhyun copying the steps playfully while jamming along with them and making you move along with him as you both laughed afterwards.

In the midst, Jaehyun walked over to you and grabbed you both to lead to the stage as everyone joined together. Baekhyun took your hand and twirl you around before wrapping his arm around your waist doing a wavy move making you laugh.

The photographer was smiling, watching the scene while capturing those moments and at that moment, Baekhyun leaned closer to your ear as the music was loud. "I think I should show you my strength since you always doubt it."

"Huh?" Your forehead creased confusingly as he placed his hands either side of your waist and you let out a squeal when he lifted you up unexpectedly making you wrap your arms around his neck in reflex.

Everyone wooed watching the scene while you stared down at him with enlarged eyes as he giggled. "So.. Do you believe in my strength now?"

You burst out laughing before leaning down to bump your forehead against his gently as your palm pressed on his cheek. "I do."

As the moment was captured, you knew, you have had the best wedding ever with the best lifepartner.

_______________

8:48 pm

It was dinner time, everyone was seated down on the thick mat with the cushions filled around and the shelter about was decorated with flowers and some candles around them. You had changed your gown into a knee-length white dress while Baekhyun's blazer was over your legs as you gave him a light squeeze around his hand locked with yours on his lap.

His thumb rubbed softly against your skin making you look at him to see him discussing something with Sehun about their business thing and you smiled at his warm gesture.

"Stop looking so much, you look crazy in love." Ria's voice snapped you out as you looked at her to see her giggling with Rose beside her and your cheeks flushed making you glare at them. "Shut up."

"Awe, my shy Y/n." Rose reached out to pinch your cheek softly and you scrunched your nose pulling away before chuckling at them. "So, Is your little one giving you hard time?"

Rose was seven months pregnant with a baby boy before her hand went to caress her bump softly and she chuckled. "Well, sometimes? Because he has been kicking way too much now."

"He already wants to come out." Ria commented giggling before Jack beside Rose spoke. "Because he wants to meet his dad."

Rose rolled her eyes while you and Ria laughed before you felt a light nudge on your shoulder making you look at Baekhyun. "Hm? What?"

"Shush." He placed his index finger on his lips as he leaned in. "Let's sneak out, coffee bean."

You laughed lowly. "What?"

"I am waiting behind that tree." He whispered pointing to the place and you chuckled staring at him weirdly. "We're married now, Baek."

"Don't ruin the fun and follow me." He glared at you playfully before kissing your palm as he excused himself from everyone and walked away.

"Go, your husband needs you." You turned to the voice to see Mrs Byun giving you a teasing smile and it was loud enough to take everyone's attention as they looked at you before giggling and you closed your eyes blushing.

Nevertheless, you slowly got up with his blazer in your hands as you wore it properly before walking away and you could hear your dad's voice kids these days and you chuckled fastening your speed. Aproaching him to see him standing against the tree with his hands shoved in his pocket and you just took your moment to stare at this handsome man infront of you.

As if he sensed your eyes, his head tilted to the side to see you as his lips curved upwards in a beautiful smile and you smiled back before he extended his hand which you took it as he made you stand infront of you. The moonlight touching his face made him look even more ethereal while his eyes bored into yours with a dreamy smile on his lips and you felt yourself blushing under his gaze.

"You know everyone got to know about this sneak out." You said and he pouted, clicking his tongue playfully. "Plan failed."

You chuckled. "But why did we even snuck out?"

Baekhyun pointed towards the sky with his index finger. "For that."

You tilted your head up to the sky with a gasp seeing the whole night sky, filled with shining stars and the lightning moon as your eyes sparkled. "Wow."

"You watch your favorite stars and I'll watch my favorite, you." He uttered out softly with his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer and kissed your temple making you smile as you looked back at him, before circling your arms around his neck to hug him.

He tightened his grip around your waist. "Gosh, you know you give the best hugs."

You chuckled placing your chin on his shoulder. "Let's stay like this here and live here."

He hummed. "Let's live on the tree and do your tree show."

"Seriously!" You whined leaning away as your arms rested around his neck and he laughed making you smile as seeing him laughing just brush your anger away.

His laughter slowly subsided, as his eyes stopped to stare at you softly as he bit his lower lip and you looked away blushing. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I am looking at my beautiful, wife." He said tucking the strand of hair behind your ear smiling and you bit your lip as you couldn't say anything back making him giggle as he slightly bumped his forehead against your temple. "Do you remember that day? When I helped you by being your boyfriend?"

You laughed nodding, remembering that moment as you looked at him. "Of course, how can I forget that? I was so surprised and who knew we would end up like this."

"Yes, and I am soooo...," He trailed off stealing a peck from your lips. "So glad that I did that. And now you're officially my wife, Mrs Byun." He added winking.

"And you're officially my husband, Mr Byun." You winked back and his eyes widened. "Did you.. Did you just flirted with me?!"

You shrugged giggling. "Perks of having a flirty husband."

"I seriously love you for flirting with me." He said kissing your cheek and you kissed his cheek back. "And I seriously love you for being my flirty husband."

Both of you looked at eachother for a moment before bursting out in giggles before pulling eachother in a hug.

And they knew, they were home.

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And, that's a wrap! I hope you liked this chapter and this fanfiction too. I was really thinking if I should post the last today or not because somehow, I didn't wanted it to end and posting the last chapter is making me emotional🤧. Anyways, I just want to thank you, whoever has been reading this story and your responses really made my day and I appreciate it a lot.

This fanfiction has been close to my heart because this my first ever written and posted story, the storyline was simple but the plot and characters are very close to me, there might have been some errors and typos but it still made me improve my writing skills. I might write an epilogue, maybe, not confirmed, but I really want to though, and if I did I would post it for sure. 🥺

Again, thank you and hope you guys like this chapter, then, take care till I post my another fanfiction soon🤍

Nia~

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@wooya1224 @buttercupbbh @jddcfc-blog @usernameloaa @gominieni @shesdreaminginoverdose

#bbh #exo fanfiction #exo ff #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun gifs #baekhyun imagines #baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun scenario

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a-lil-perspective · 4 years

Text

•Braids and Bavodu’e•

A/N: Directly affiliated with the “Serendipity With A Slice Of Sergeant” series, this spin-off is for Uncle Crosshair. There are three segments spanning within this narrative that each depict different phases of time. To clarify—the order will proceed as such: Middle, Beginning, End. In total adoration for this particular concept with Crosshair, I poured my heart and soul into the curation, and I hope you all find enjoyment within. Feedback, recommendations, and requests are always appreciated. @shadow-hyder @obiorbenkenobi @thegoodbatch @starflyer-104 @karpasia @kriffingunlucky @everyonehasanindividuality

•▫️♦️•▫️♦️•▫️♦️•▫️♦️•▫️♦️•▫️♦️•▫️♦️▫️•

“I... do not think you’re doing it the right way, Crosshair. It says here in the guide to weave over, then under—”

“Tech, kindly close your yap so I can concentrate.” Crosshair bit out, sighing in frustration over the seemingly impossible task. “I know what I’m doing.”

He had no idea what he was doing.

But when Hunter’s daughters came bounding up to Crosshair with a hairbrush and a plea—how could he refuse?

After all, it was just one braid in a little girl’s hair—how hard can it be?

The six-year-old jittered with excitement. “I can’t wait till it’s done!”

“I can’t either,” Crosshair mumbled through a hair accessory clamped between his teeth as he worked.

A sniper and ex-Super Commando against toddlers and tresses?

No problem.

///

Crosshair’s hands smoothed over the entirety of the girl’s hair; signifying his completion, finally, of this one kriffing braid. His contentment over the results made up for the aching in his wrist. He was no hairdresser, and yet—clenching and uncurling his fingers before cracking his knuckles to alleviate the strain—Crosshair figured he’d better start building up the muscle strength in his hands; a sneaking suspicion that there would be many more braids to come.

His deduction was already confirmed when Tech promptly planted the three-year-old Rowena straight into the sniper’s lap, next.

“You have to do Ro’s hair, too.” Tech needlessly explained.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Crosshair sneered, rolling his eyes and once again favoring the tactic of sardonic responses to conceal his discomfiture for whatever situation he found himself in.

“His name isn’t Captain Obvious, Ba’vodu!” Alarasmé’s high-pitched voice cut through the tension, her lack of knowledge on sarcasm pointedly intervening. “That’s Uncle Tech!”

“You’re right, ‘Lara—but tell Crosshair who your favorite Uncle is, hmm?” He encouraged, a feeling of total confidence and surety in the girl’s pending answer.

“You, Uncle Crosshair.”

Her confirmation managed to simultaneously inflate Crosshair’s ego and deflate Tech’s. The engineer’s mouth lay agape, his downcast expression symbolic of crushed spirits, and the image of Tech’s pout allowed Crosshair to become wholly amused by his vod’ika’s lack of dignity around a six-year-old.

“I... Alara... I thought I was your favorite Ba’vodu?” The engineer was utterly baffled, devastation evident in his voice.

“That was only yesterday, Techie.” The girl stated with complete disregard for her Uncle’s feelings, as if her admission towards a shift in predilection was the most justifiable thing, and a predictable reoccurrence, at that.

Apparently, it was.

“But... but Crosshair has practically had a running streak for three weeks now!” Tech whined, to which the sniper simply cast him the most smug expression the engineer has ever seen.

Had there not been small children around, Tech swore to himself that he would’ve punched that stupid smirk right off his ori’vod’s face, he was that indignant over the ranking.

So he attempted to compensate for his trauma and descending favor by kneeling in front of the three-year-old with her locks currently tended to as he worked on coercing his desired validation out of the toddler.

“Rowena, Tech is your favorite Uncle, correct?”

The toddler giggled and reached her tiny fingers out to yank at Tech’s goggles, pulling them away from his face before abruptly letting go; the resistance from the band around the back of his head causing the corrective eyewear to suddenly retract with a thwack against his skin. The sound of Tech’s yelp of pain nearly overpowered Crosshair’s cackling.

“You di’kut, you had that one coming, tryna reason with a baby,” the sniper managed to choke out through his wheezing, to which Tech scowled, soothing over both the fresh sting around his delicate eye area and his further injured pride.

“As a matter of fact, I think the response was a good sign. According to research, babies and small children naturally present with more attentiveness and personality to people they favor—“

“Awe don’t worry, Techie,” the sniper brushed his vod’ika aside with a goading stroke of snark. “It’s not your fault—not everyone can be as well accomplished as this Ba’vodu.”

It was true—while Crosshair was slightly begrudged to admit—his deft and nimble fingers that procured precision in every aspect of his work were, unsurprisingly, the most ideal candidate for constructing intricate hairstyles.

Not that he was complaining one bit.

///

“Papa! Look at my hair!!” The little girl gave a proud twirl in flaunting the new style to her Father upon his return with Uncle Wrecker.

Hunter’s eyes widened, signaling his eased integration of whimsicality and theatrics into his daughter’s exuberance. He was a natural; proof of his intrinsically befitting role of Fatherhood on display time over again.

“Alarasmé?! Is that you?! I barely even recognized you, you’re even more beautiful then I remember!” He knelt to be eye-level with his daughter in emphasizing his payments of the highest respect and reverence for her beauty; his surprise remaining authentic, and his compliment even more so.

Truthfully, he was thoroughly surprised at beholding his two daughters that day... with their hair beautifully styled... by... Crosshair?

Hunter’s brows furrowed while curiously regarding his vod, whose own attentive gaze was fully occupied with giving purpose to the last thin strands of hair on the youngest girl. If Crosshair felt Hunter’s intense gaze of perplexity boring into him over his unprecedented behavior, he had yet to acknowledge it.

He did feel it, and was pointedly ignoring.

“All done, Ro.” Crosshair announced upon promptly attaching the finishing touch to Rowena’s head before she bolted out of the chair in racing her chubby toddler legs over to Hunter, who matched her eagerness as he lovingly scooped up his ik’aad to also exalt her beauty and express his adoration for the girl’s new accessory—

So that’s where his red bandana went.

“Papa! Your turn!” The girls pulled a now flustered Sergeant over to Crosshair, who suddenly flashed Hunter the most devilish grin before patting the stool in front of him in an overly welcoming gesture; each word dripping with deliberate emphasis.

“Yes, Papa Hunter—have a seat.”

“Uh, I don’t think so—“

“I insist.”

The intense begging of his daughters mixed with the thinly-veiled intimidation tactics of Crosshair left Hunter with little choice than to flop unceremoniously down into the chair, but not before turning to greet his vod with a glare and feigned warning:

“You’ll regret this.”

“Oh, I think not, Sergeant—I am going to enjoy the absolute kriff out of this.” Crosshair smirked, playfully smacking the back of his ori’vod’s head. “Now be still and enjoy your braid. Remember to smile for Tech’s recording.”

/// *** \\\

“Do you want to hold her, vod?”

There it is. The dreaded question Crosshair knew was coming.

The nauseating one that caused his head to spin and a sheen of sweat to break out across his forehead; a question that triggered Crosshair’s urge to promptly flee the scene.

Not that the idea itself dreaded him—but who was he kidding; his hands were used to cradling rifles, not babies.

Certainly not infant newborns.

“You’re not gonna break her, vod. Don’t worry. She’s tougher than she looks.” Hunter replies with reverence for his firstborn and innate realization for the way Cross was so conflicted; as if the sniper’s contorted and downright terrified facial expression wasn’t overt enough.

Crosshair’s hands unconsciously drifted defensively in front of him, and he noted the way they were slightly trembling.

Of course Hunter noticed, too—he deliberately approached Crosshair last with news of the baby’s arrival, equipped with full comprehension for the way his vod would instinctively portray a great deal of resistance to the encounter, originating from his suffocating trepidations. Inwardly, Hunter couldn’t place fault; the prospect, his new reality, was also just as utterly foreign to a man groomed for the role of a Sergeant and super soldier all of his life. He was actually a Father now.

Crosshair’s stammering became the only audibility as he desperately searched for the right words. “I... I don’t... How do I—”

“Just position your arms, exactly like mine here,” Hunter gently instructed, stifling his slight hilarity in regarding Crosshair’s plight and uncharacteristically timid behavior. He slowly transferred the bundle, leaving a last piece of advice on how to support the baby’s head with the act of cradling.

There she is. The moment Crosshair’s fret over, the focal point of his immense stress for nine months straight; all condensed into this one moment:

A moment that forcefully yanked the air from the sniper’s lungs. Fear. Joy. Exhilaration. Assurance. Swirling emotions enveloping and succumbing to solidification; leaving his vision in cloudy haze, nearly bringing the man to his knees. The moment he swore his heart would beat out of his chest from the hammering against his ribcage and the pure adrenaline rushing through his veins.

A moment of—

“How does it feel, Ba’vodu?” Hunter’s genuine smile and elation reeled Crosshair back, momentarily.

“I...” Crosshair faltered, not trusting himself to speak. Not yet.

Don’t stare. Stay calm. Act normal. Breathe—

He swallowed hard, lowering his octave to just above a whisper and opting for the incitement of a casual inquiry as he desperately tried to compensate for the weight, or lack thereof, in his arms.

She was... way lighter than a rifle...

“What did you name her?”

“Alarasmé.”

The hard eye rolling of Crosshair briefly allowed the sniper’s usual derisive quips to surface in that instant. What a name.

“That’s too big for a baby, you di’kut.” Both men chuckled at the ribbing.

“She’ll grow into it. Besides—we figured there could be lots of nicknames to come from it: ‘Alara’, ‘Lara’, ‘Lar’—”

“That’s... better. Pretty.”

“Glad you think so, vod. You know your opinion is the only one I care about.”

Crosshair’s wry smile spread across his features, mirroring his ori’vod’s. He appreciated the former Sergeant favoring the antidote of humor to ease them both into the new transition, despite Hunter currently looking a little worse for wear.

His thoughts flickered to a more pressing question, the one that plagued his thoughts the moment medical droids ushered her back.

“And... Y/N? Is she—?”

“She’s doing great, vod,” Hunter’s smile projected reassurance.

Crosshair exhaled in relief, releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d held captive. “That’s good... figured as much, otherwise you wouldn’t even be coherent. Surprised you didn’t pass out right on the spot.”

“Me too.” Hunter’s deep laugh echoed against the stark white walls of the hospital. “But I did have to send Wrecker outside until he could stop howling from sheer excitement. And I sent Tech in there to keep an eye on her while she rests.”

“Resting and Tech do not go together, Hunter. I think baby fever is stunting your sound judgement here.”

“Cross—relax, would you? Tech’s not gonna bother anything. Everything is fine, I promise: Y/N is OK.” Hunter inhaled patience and breathed out compassion before gently continuing, a sense of fond remembrance coloring his features.

“You should’ve seen her, vod; she was SO happy. Could barely pry that little one from her arms.” The former Sergeant carefully eyed Crosshair in accentuation over his next statement. “But she wanted you to see the baby. Was askin’ about you. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Crosshair felt a contemplative frown tug the corner of his lips as his brows furrowed in intense deciphering of Hunter’s admission.

Y/N... was asking... about him? Wanted to make sure he was okay? Even though she was the one giving birth.

Hunter should count his lucky stars. Maker, that woman was so kriffing compassionate and thoughtful, her altruism a real rarity.

If someone were to ask; this was but one of many reasons why Crosshair loved you so damn much.

He could hardly breathe at the pang of guilt now coursing through him—talk about a real shabuir. He could’ve made himself available for support instead of trekking around the hospital to wallow in his reservations and anxiety.

Crosshair felt he did a major disservice to the people whom he deeply cared for, who relied on him—and he fervently sought to make amends.

Maybe he could start today...

The sniper’s eyes finally drifted to the bundle in his arms and settled on the baby now slightly squirming as she cooed and suddenly blessed Crosshair with the image of two pools of dazzling brown eyes reflecting; soft and warm and curiously regarding the company of a temporary acquaintance cradling her. Her face was tender; concave features and tiny lips immediately curving into a half smile.

Crosshair couldn’t breathe.

He nearly clutched his chest, seeking to address the now smoking hole in the center courtesy of a newborn, his niece, and her well placed shot point-blank through his heart.

Impressive by even an expert sniper’s standards.

It was as if suddenly, instead of blood seeping from his exposed heart, it was pure ardor forcefully expelling and completely washing away disquietude to project a vulnerability so lovingly welcomed and an intimacy so deeply cherished in that instant; an indescribable moment Crosshair wished he could capture the essence of forever.

A moment Crosshair fell in love.

With stars in his eyes and total adoration for this beautiful human created from an unrepentant devotion, the sniper quickly decided with an unwavering resolve that love was the most powerful thing in the entire galaxy—a raw purity that suddenly reached out to evoke healing and restitution through solely the grasp of her tiny fingers.

And it was with slight amusement and full reverence that Crosshair acknowledged how only a child of Y/N could have such an effect of him.

Hunter felt as he was was intruding on a private moment with the way Crosshair’s entire mood and expression finally shifted; hardened layers peeling back to reveal a raw core of delicate emotions—a demeanor in his vod that Hunter had not witnessed the materialization of in a very long time.

A tiny droplet on the baby’s blanket became the only indication to Crosshair of his emotions now manifested through his glistening eyes.

Worry and anxiety became evident on Hunter’s face as he carefully watched the silent tears now roll down his vod’s cheek and patter against the cloth swaddling his newborn daughter.

He’s crying... Crosshair doesn’t cry... Is he just utterly overwhelmed? Overjoyed? Scared?

Hunter reached out tentatively, unsure of what to do, at a loss for what to say.

Tell me what you need, kih’vod...

“Crosshair? Do you... want me to take her back now—?”

“Hunter,” the sniper choked out, unabashed in his unequivocal bliss. “She is perfect.”

Absolutely perfect.

—Such were the emotions of love and doting magnified upon the addition of another beautiful daughter; proof of Crosshair’s inflated eagerness at Rowena’s arrival evident through the scenario of Wrecker’s form nearly put to the ground as Crosshair practically shoved his way to get to the new baby girl first.

/// *** \\\

“—And he’s just SO nice, great listener, super cute, too—“

“I don’t like him.”

The now thirteen-year-old whipped her head around to regard her Ba’vodu, who nearly lost his grip on the girl’s ebony locks currently under revision of a new hairstyle.

“Uncle Crosshair, you don’t even know him.”

“I don’t have to. If any boy likes my niece, I don’t like him. It’s very simple, love.” Crosshair solidified his terse judgment with a twirl of his finger in signaling Alarasmé to revert to her original position, allowing him resumed access to the back of her head.

The eldest daughter of Hunter grumbled and crossed her arms, complying with Crosshair’s instruction. “You never like any of mine and Rowena’s friends. That’s hardly fair.”

“I don’t play fair, sweetheart. You should know that by now.”

‘Lara simply ignored her stubborn uncle in continuing with her story. “Anyway, so he approached me after a class, and guess what??”

The girl’s enthusiasm was utterly endearing, and her theatrics intrinsically drew a smile out of Crosshair. He decided to humor her.

“What, beautiful Alarasmé?? Enlighten your uncle Crosshair.”

Her barely contained excitement suddenly effervesced in the form of an absolutely delighted squeal that echoed the entirety of space and left a ringing in Crosshair’s ears.

“HE GAVE ME HIS HOLO FREQUENCY!!”

Crosshair was immensely glad Alara’s back poised to him possessed the inability to behold the deep scowl etched into her Uncle’s face in that moment.

But she was practically glowing with elation, and Crosshair wasn’t about to rob her of a childhood exuberance that was so authentically pure and wholesome.

But he couldn’t help himself—you’d think they were the sniper’s own offspring, what with the way he was utterly enamored and obsessively overprotective of his ori’vod’s daughters. Kriff. They were his literal undoing.

Crosshair suddenly emerged to behold two large pools of beautiful brown studying his face, searching for a reaction, silently pleading for his approval.

He swallowed his skepticism and disdain for some stranger, little more than a kid, contending for his niece’s beautiful heart; forcing his most genuine smile in response.

“That’s... really great, ‘Lara. I’m happy for you. Let me know if you want me to kill him.”

“Thanks Ba’vodu—hey, I can kill him myself, thank you very much—“

“Good girl, verd’ika. That’s what I like to hear.” Her assertation became Crosshair’s favorite part of the news; a sense of pride and borderline sadistic satisfaction culminating from her bold reassurance. He made no qualms of obscuring his pleased smirk from the teenager when her own suddenly reflected back at him.

“Awe. Do you feel better now, Ba’vodu?” Her animated expressions thoroughly amused Crosshair, reminding him once again of just how much the young girl favored her father’s personality the older she aged; his physical resemblance even more so.

Crosshair couldn’t get enough of it.

“As a matter of fact, cyar’ika—I do feel much better in knowing the four ex-Super Commandos in your life have done you justice by instilling in you the shameless instruction of kicking someone’s ass whenever needed. Yes.” He allowed a hand to deviate from her hair in playfully stroking her cheek before withdrawing; a sudden realization flickering. “You haven’t actually told your Papa yet, have you? You might want to—”

“No!” ‘Lara’s cry startled Crosshair. “Please don’t tell him—he is the worst and weirdest about this stuff, and Rowena already gives me a hard enough time, as it is!”

So you came to the most critiquing Uncle you have? He bit his tongue to keep from spitting out, recognizing the way that wouldn’t allay her distress.

Deep down, he also knew why both of his former Sergeant’s daughters spent so much of their time consumed with Crosshair—he was a good listener, typically calm and level-headed; not overly rumbustious, prying, or a downright troublemaker like the other men. While the sniper’s abrasive nature remained a steady inherence, his many unique forms of gentle conveyances resonated profoundly with the girls. Without fail, both females came to Crosshair for the deep conversations, always intrigued by their enigmatic Ba’vodu’s wisdom presented through his scope of very unfiltered perspectives. Sniper rifles, late night sweets, and new hairstyles were the focal point of their relationship.

Crosshair would allow himself some leniency—he was a pretty good Uncle.

Though he shifted full credit to their beautiful mother, who initially cultivated Crosshair’s soft refinement so many years ago; her two children further reinforcing that self-growth in the man.

Two children...

It‘s been five years since, but the pain of loss from what would’ve been a third child—a son of Hunter’s that never carried to full term—still heavily bore it’s remnants of poignancy.

It never got any easier to quell the grief.

“Cyar’ika... you have to tell him soon. That stubborn Daddy of yours will find out one way or another.” He chuckled lightly before softening his tone. “You know that.”

A sigh of defeat emitting from the girl tugged at Crosshair’s heart strings as he watched the way her eyes became acquainted with the floor for a long moment; harsh silence uncouth in the act of creating a palpable weight of melancholy to encompass the atmosphere.

An abrupt sound cut deep through disconcertment with the sudden clearing of Crosshair’s throat, an act that signified a redirected topic of conversing between the awkward Uncle and crestfallen teenager.

“Your hair is getting long, Alara.”

That seemed to do the trick, and Crosshair was satiated with the way her brown eyes lit up slightly and expression eased into a relaxed state as the beautiful smile that Crosshair found himself missing made it’s way to her lips once again.

“I know, Papa told me the same thing just this morning.” She stifled a laugh before continuing. “Said he was gonna grow his out even longer so that there would be competition. I told him you were gonna braid it again if he did.”

Crosshair chortled. His ori’vod‘s humor was so outlandish. “And I might just, anyway—what I wouldn’t give to see that again on your old man,” he mused in humored recollection, to which the young girl eagerly obliged in the shared remembrance.

Crosshair no more than withdrew his hands from the stylized hair before Alara’s own fingers instantly flew to splay atop her head in appraisal of the intricately woven locks. Both of Hunter’s daughters were modest in their hairdressing skills, but it was a unanimous agreement between them and their Uncle at an earlier stage that they preferred it this way—‘long chats and endearing head pats’—as the girls liked to call it.

Crosshair leaned back in the chair, analyzing his work in the form of a braided crown adorning the circumference of the girl’s head and spanning from temple-to-temple, before he allowed his own satisfaction to display.

The teenager flashed Crosshair a dazzling smile before her praise followed suit. “Nice work Uncle Cross; you’ve done it again.”

“I aim to please, cyar’ika.”

Crosshair eyed his niece for a long moment as a sense of urgency and obligation began to permeate his stance. Visible confusion danced across Alara’s features as Crosshair’s solemn gaze and hands now resting determinedly on her shoulders instantly perked her attentiveness.

“Alarasmé, I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything.” The resolution in her voice faltered briefly as her head cocked to the side in nonchalant contemplation. “Unless it’s to finally beat Uncle Wrecker in arm wrestling—that’s definitely not gonna happen.” She giggled, and Crosshair quickly matched her humor before continuing in earnest.

“Promise me that you won’t ever let some boy or anyone break your heart. You and Ro are tough, like your momma. But that doesn’t mean you won’t always have four ex-Super Commandos on your side. So also promise me that you’ll never forget how much your family loves you.”

The girl remained silent for a moment in the absorption and intense processing of her Uncle’s heavy requests.

“That’s a lot of promises.”

“Promise me, cyare.”

“OK Ba’vodu—I promise.” She reaches up to swipe at the man’s cheek. “No need to go all soft, ram’ser.”

Ram’ser. Y/N’s favorite term for him.

“Hey, just like I have Papa’s heart, Uncle Wrecker’s, and Uncle Tech’s—” she tenderly continued, splaying a hand across Crosshair’s chest, “—I have yours, too. So mine can’t break when there’s already plenty of hearts to keep it company. Don’t worry.” She pulled the man into a tight hug before retracting and playfully prodding his shoulder, her eyes quick to sparkle with mischief.

“Now take me to the shooting range—I want to nail a target from ten klicks while sporting this hairdo.”

#star wars #Braids and Bavodu’e #Uncle Crosshair #my writing #I’m blessed by Uncle Crosshair #your antics ain’t foolin’ no one ya soft sniping bastard #be blessed by soft Uncle Crosshair #using the tags to spew everything I didn’t want to overflow the A/N section #I’m not crazy about the format... I like my paragraphs a little more spaced out #feels wonky #had to crop a fair amount out with what felt like tons of revision #but I made it work because I was hella determined to fit it all into one narrative #here’s to hoping I hit the sweet spot with the dynamics?#I want to feel so much love and adoration for this work #but editing was uncharacteristically straining on my mental capacity #one can only reread one’s own work so many times in one setting before it starts to make you go stir crazy #I don’t know how to feel.#I think I’m just tired #and writer’s anxiety 👎🏻#maybe I’ll feel different tomorrow #incessant rambling in the tags #hopefully will remember to delete these #it’s a Lil thing

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years

Text

Dawn

Loki x fem!Reader

ONE/TWO/THREE SHOT

Warnings: mention of past trauma and fluff.

Summary: A truce to end all wars leads to an alliance between Earth and Asgard in the form of Loki marrying a mortal. None of them what this. None except fate.

Word Count: I know I have a lot of WiPs. They worry me. My office changed and now I have to travel forty minutes to and from the place and boy do I get tired after that! This is one of the reasons I’ve not been able to put up much. And I know this will lead to a lot of readers fading away (I have seen this happening already) which is okay. A little heartbreak but I’ll live. But I just hope everyone stays safe and takes care of themselves.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"I think insulting your father in front of thousands of his Hydra henchmen is still on top."

The most anxious day of your life and Anthony Edward Stark still makes you feel at ease.

The reflection in the mirror in front of you is of a timid woman with not an ounce of beauty to her name but for the title that comes with her unworthy blood. At least that is what you think.

Tony can read it in those eyes that are still carrying the lost sleep from many nights gone.

"The Asgardians have no idea how lucky they are to have you. And your father was an idiot for giving you away."

He takes the golden chains from your hands that you're unable to lock at the back to do it for you. "But then again, if it weren't for you, we would have never won the war."

You mock a laugh. "Oh, come on, Mr Stark. I'm a freaking ball that was played by earth and Asgard's most unhinged boomers."

The clasp on the chain shuts and Tony's brows go up. "I could not have said it better. Odin does seem like he should chill out more."

"Right?"

You both chuckle and Tony presses away creases on your shoulder before catching your gaze in the mirror.

"You do know you don't have to go through this, Y/N. You just have to say the word and every one of us out there will fight those golden bastards for you."

Your lips stretch in an involuntary smile that fills your heart to the brim and you feel your eyes get wet for the man who has been more of a father to you than your own blood and bones. "You know that is exactly the reason I said yes to the wedding, right? I don't want any more bloodshed. Let's just take it as me repenting for my father's sins and call it a day. Although I'm glad this peace offering didn't come with shady terms like the Asgardians ruling earth or something."

Tony blinks and looks into some unknown void. "Hm." Some afterthought later he looks down at you adjusting a flower in his jacket's pocket, patting and jumping a little in excitement at how great he looked. "Maybe Odin wants to give one of his disappointments some responsibilities or something. To keep him busy, you know."

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, giving yourself one final look in the mirror before picking up the bouquet of Asgardian orchids- the golden flowers in full bloom.

"But honestly though, if he does something you don't like, you have to tell me. Or anyone of us. Nat! Yes, she will take care of him for you on the down-low. It'll be so quiet even he won't know what hit him."

You twirl around towards Tony, making him question the whole event once more. He could not let this happen to you. No. You deserved better. So much better than some egotistical maniac of a God who once wanted to rule your planet.

"Ready to walk me down the aisle?" You ask him with stars in your eyes.

"No?" He replies with clouds of doubt lingering over him.

"Tony."

"Okay, fine. But I am going to sulk about this throughout the wedding."

The great halls of the palace have been decorated with flora of all hues. Civilians have gathered outside to witness the wedding of their Prince. The old ones are curious about who would marry the adopted child. The young ones make merry, rejoicing their Prince has finally found love and the kingdom can once again celebrate after what seems like aeons. The guards have been doubled and the groom's brother is all over the place, running around to make sure everything is in order. It is only when Sif rolls her eyes and audibly groans before dragging Thor by his arms outside his brother's chambers does he stop. Be with your brother, he is ordered before she takes off to cover for him, leaving him to discover what he's been dreading all this week- what is Loki going to feel about this.

It surprises him when it does not take much to open the door and find his brother dressed in his most exquisite armour for the occasion. The gold glitters under the sun rays falling through the windows and balcony and the cape flutters luxuriously reminding every witness that none could carry one as Loki did.

Thor wonders how much of his mother's poise he sees in Loki while he stands overlooking Asgard. His eyes are taking in each and every living pixel while his hands are trying to scratch the nervousness off each other.

Mother would have loved to watch him start this new chapter today, Thor wonders gleefully on the inside.

Maybe it's the reluctant thought of their mother that travels unspoken across the room and makes the other brother turn around.

"Let's get this over with," Loki announces, walking towards the door.

Well, clearly not what I was hoping for, Thor muses, following his brother out.

"How are you feeling brother?" He has to ask.

"Like I might puke my insides any moment."

Vivid.

"Is there anything I can bring you that might ease your stomach?" I mean a brother can try, right?

"Oh yes, of course! Bring a very rare herb called common sense and feed it to your father. He seems to be suffering from this particular deficiency."

"Okay, Loki, that's a bit-"

"Say it's a bit on the nose and I will punch you in the face right now, Thor. I'm being married against my will to an earthling against her will. Father might be a professional matchmaker in his days but I am not one of his pawns to be used in some peace treaty like this."

Thor sighs because that is all he can do right now. No matter how much tries to defend the Allfather, the fact remains that two people are being brought together without much room for their thoughts and opinions. “Weren’t you the one to bring forth the idea of peace with the one planet that father has not tried to conquer and the one that still considers us friends? It is all for the better. And Y/N is an amazing woman. I am sure she would make a wonderful partner-”

“The peace holds because you are known to their heroes, Thor. And if peace is the subject let’s just marry you with Y/N, why don’t we?”

Thor mocks a muted laugh but Loki does not stir, staring at his blond brother with a piercing gaze that finally makes the former shift his weight uncomfortably between his legs. “That’s what I thought. Keep trying to defend the Allfather unless he stands against what you desire. You do realise this was the very reason I tried to stop you from becoming king in the first place at that time.”

Before he can get a word in- or at least try to think of one- Loki has already moved past the great doors to be welcomed by a crowd of royals gathered in the hall at one side and Y/N’s family on the other.

He knows. He knows deep within his heart that the royals are here just to witness what drama goes down this time, what does the bastard of Odin do this time to wreck chaos midst these celebrations. The other side? They are here to make sure they have his bones if Y/N says the word. So, it’s just another day in my life. But he has to admit to himself how he envies you for having a cavalry of the galaxy’s most lethal beings protecting you without so much as a word. What is this camaraderie exactly? A strategic alliance? A well-put band of the unfit?

It’s love, my dear.

It is not hard to miss Friga’s words fluttering inside once he climbs the stairs to stand by Odin’s side. Love, Loki mocks a laugh, it does make you do mad things. He is not paying attention to the grand speech Odin is giving, and for once he can relate to a yawning Clint in the front. All he wants is for this charade to end once and for all. So much that he might actually be happy if Y/N says no at the very last minute. Would save both of us some very awkward lifetimes ahead.

The great doors open again. Everyone rises from their seats to welcome the bride. Loki isn’t even interested in looking that way till the sun is reflected in his eyes from the veil that covers your face. And that is the first time he looks at you.

There is the strangest flutter inside his gut to witness his colours on someone else; on you. The armour in a matching shade of gold adorns your shoulders and arms. Gold chains have the honour of covering your chest and back, curving down from behind to the plates on your waist. Green of the gown dazzles like the galaxy moving around your existence, snug all around your curves. A Goddess walks on the land of Asgard. And every single soul is in awe.

Loki blinks under the light of the suns. The air seems to leave his lungs and time slows down. Everything fades away; except for the woman that walks towards him in arms with earth’s protector. His mind is questioning whether she is a mere human while his heart is trying to figure out the pressing sensation it is feeling.

“Lady Y/N, daughter of...under the care of the house of Stark,” Odin announces to the crowd, breaking Loki out the trance whilst he watches you climb the steps with Stark, come to stand by his side and give the man a kiss before he takes a step back, his gaze never leaving your face, waiting for a single line of doubt to take you away from all of this.

Well, one of the father figures understands.

“Time for the union,” Odin declares to the two of you.

You turn towards Loki, your heart beating in your ears as you watch your future husband for what seems like the rest of eternity through the veil. Even though you have been trying to convince everyone that it’s the right thing to do, your panicking heart seems to be having doubts of its own.

Breathe! Breathe, breathe, breathe, Y/N. Just breathe, please.

“Unveil her, Loki,” Odin softly orders the God.

You feel the heat run to your ears and neck. What fuckery-

“She will unveil herself, if she wants to, Allfather. Do not belittle her with your old traditions,” Loki points out, much to Odin’s dismay.

Damn right, Tony thinks to himself as he pauses and looks inside in disbelief for liking Loki there for a moment.

Loki does not miss your hands going to your solar plexus to wipe off the sweat before moving the veil back. The suns finally get to touch your face, that glows even when everything inside you cripples in anxiety. Y/E/C eyes meet the ocean of green looking at you with deep curiosity before you look away.

“Bring forward your hands unto each other so you may be tied by the fabric used by the first Gods to be wed under the suns and moons,” Sif requests as she holds a red fabric in her hand while her eyes travel to Thor standing at the end of the stairs.

Loki is first to bring forward his hands, patiently waiting for yours.

The hesitance is not for the ceremony as much as for the fear of him finding your drumming pulse under his touch. Oh, well, I’m pretty sure he can hear it from here right now. And so you bring forward your hands to slide into his, feeling the heat from your palms being siphoned by his cold ones.

A chill runs throughout your body; like a feverish tingle when your stomach is on the verge of throwing its contents out. And Loki seems to sense it too. It’s really hard to ignore for him, as a matter of fact. So is the repeated rise of your chest to breathe as much as you can while undergoing a panic attack; a state he is all too familiar with.

“Róaðu taugarnar á henni, gyðja styrks og umhyggju,” he whispers only for you to listen and still it does not make sense till you can feel an ascended calm run from your hands to the rest of your body, bringing the chaos to a standstill.

How did he-

The removal of clouds of anxiety seems to suddenly clear your vision and you watch the God holding you in a new light. His eyes are soft towards you, his touch careful and light. His head bows a little and his body is still as a boulder. If only I had a backbone like him, you wonder when Sif wraps the red around your hands, binding them together neatly with a bow on top.

“Time for your vows,” she whispers to the both of you with a smile before taking a step back.

You look at her and watch the face of a friend before your eyes come back to rest on the red fabric. So much power resides in this little piece of cloth.

“Under the stars of Valhalla,” Loki begins, bringing your eyes up from the fabric to his face like an involuntary reflex, “I take thee, Y/N, as my wife, if you shall have me. I vow to protect you and be by your side in life...and death.”

...okay...that was...okay.

You clear your throat as discreetly as possible, taking in one long breath before looking back at right into Loki’s eyes. “U-under the stars of Valhalla, I take thee, Loki, as my husband, if you shall have me. I-I vow to protect you and be by your side in life. And...and death.”

No sooner are the words said than the fabric starts to glow with a blinding light, turning into butterflies made purely of light and flying to the skies, marking the bond witnessed by the heavens old and new.

"If you need anything, your handmaidens will be a call away."

There is comfort in Sid's gentle smile. If only you could ask her to stay. But that's not usually how the night goes.

"Take care of her, brother," Thor comments before a strong pat comes for Loki's back and the God rolls his eyes.

You know Thor means well but those words in no way bring comfort to you as the doors to Loki's room opens and are shut behind the two of you.

Silence marks the first few seconds of being alone in a room for the first time. Well, not first really. There was that time when the two of you had to fight your way out of the Hydra's facility.

"Nice colour theme," you finally say out loud standing by the door, awkwardly swinging on your toes while holding a fur coat given to you when you were shivering at dinner.

Loki takes his helmet off and your eyes follow the raven strands of hair flowing in the night breeze dancing in from the windows and open balcony. How does he have such lush growth? Maybe it’s the water of Asgard.

The helmet rests on the table with a soft thud. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” he states, already undoing his armour.

“Oh, no,” you press, taking a step towards him, “please, you don’t have to get uncomfortable in your own room on my account. I’ll take the couch. It looks more comfortable than my bed anyway. So…yeah. Um...where can I change?”

Loki blinks and turns his gaze towards an archway by the end of the wall. “That’s...the bathroom. Everything has been arranged for you in there.”

You nod even though Loki has already gotten busy with undoing what remains of his armour while you start on undoing yours. The bracelets come off first, then the earrings. But the worst is the clasps of chains choking you from your neck down your back. I should have asked Tony how he did it, dammit. No matter how much your hands try they just don’t seem to find the stupid openings anywhere.

“Allow me,” comes the voice from behind you, startling your already tensed nerves. And as if that isn’t enough, the touch of his cold fingers on your neck seems to fire up whatever nerve endings still seem to be working. Every undoing is soft and careful, always ending with a click. You can feel your hairs rise in anticipation of this foreign touch, goosebumps all over your back that you are pretty sure Loki can notice. You have to stop breathing in order to keep the shiver in check. It's only when your neck feels light once the last of the gold is removed do you take a lungful, catching the odd piece of jewellery in your hand, thanking Loki and hastily making your way to the doorless bathroom with a wooden partition made of intricate carvings as the only thing blocking the view on either side.

When you come out Loki has already changed into a loose black shirt over black pyjamas for the night, ready to take the couch. "I said I'll take the c-"

The creak followed by a crash drowns your words and makes you smack your hand on your mouth. The sofa lies in ruins on the floors, the legs done away with while the arms rests have fallen flat. And the thought of Loki almost sitting down on it fills you with the guilt of having the thought of laughing out loud at the scene.

"Oh, God. You okay?" You have to ask, partly because you did see him rise up safely thanks to his wonderful reflexes but mainly because the pressing jaw tells you somebody might die tomorrow morning.

"I'll have one of the servants clean this up," is all he says.

Servants. Ruined couch. Wedding night. That cannot go right in any way imaginable. Not at least for your overthinking mind.

"No, that's okay. We can share the bed," you blurt out, not wanting any outside attention, "i-if that's okay with you."

And so, both of you lie down on the king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what odd decisions did you have to make to get you here. Even though the space over the bed is surprisingly a lot, the senses just cannot help but notice the other one's tiniest movements, every breath, every gulp and every sigh in the silent night.

"I'm sorry," you finally manage to say softly, still staring at the ceiling while your fingernails gnaw at each other. "That you were dragged into all of...this. I really thought the whole gist of a wedding between two kingdoms was over on my planet."

Silence resumes and as the seconds pass you feel a shot embarrassment rise in your throat for saying that. Clearly Loki is not interested in hearing any of this, you moron. He's a God married to a dumb mortal. This must be the worst day of his-

"Don't apologize for the mindless traditions of old men, dear. We are just pawns in their quest for power."

Weight of the words aside, there is something really soothing about Loki's voice mixing with the sweet cold of the night.

"All of this could have been avoided if Odin took his word back and let you live as you wished, no matter what your father promised."

You agree in a hum, bringing the duvet closer to your chest.

"But I presume you thought it better to avoid blood and take it as it was presented to you."

The words in that honey laden voice seem to travel over your exposed skin like a feather.

"Yeah. Yes. It would have been the better option but I could not stand to watch my friends and family suffer anymore. Tony deserves to rest and live a happy life with his family. Steve and Bucky are finally getting around to find their love for each other. Natasha has settled down with Maria and Clint can finally stay with his family. The battle had already taken a toll on them. I would have rather killed myself than make them put their life on the line again for the whole...planet I guess."

You do not notice but Loki has turned his head to look at you, to notice the quick blink of your eyes, the tug of your fingers on the edge of the duvet, the lick of your lips before biting on them hard.

"Well-" you clear your throat, scratching your forehead for some invisible itch- "I'm human. So, I'm supposed to make the dumbest decisions. But I cannot imagine how you must be feeling mixed in all of this. I'm sure this is the last thing you wanted for yourself in exchange for some reduced sentence. T-that's what Thor told me."

You turn to look at him and are caught off guard by the moons shining in on the pair of greens looking at you with utmost interest. And once you lock your gaze with them, it's hard to let go. Swimming in the springs in a forest under a full moon night while the world sleeps, that's what his gaze feels like. Why wouldn't it; they seem to be touching you in crevices untouched and unbared.

He continues to watch you and sigh. "To be honest I stopped putting any hope in Odin to think about me a long time ago. Nothing he does to me or for me surprises me anymore."

Your lips pucker down, letting the words sink in before you decide to turn in his direction.

"Well, I'll try to make this situation suck a little less as I can...though I highly doubt I'd be able to create much havoc here."

"Oh-" Loki feels his eyes close as a smirk lands on his face and he turns in your direction too- "trust me, darling. With me, there is no corner of this place that you cannot create havoc in."

You find yourself chuckling, letting a few seconds pass before you lick your lips and wonder whether to let out this tiny naughty piece of your mind into bed between the two of you.

The lick and the tug of your teeth at your mesmerising lips do not go unnoticed by the God; something that is soon brewing a question about why his insides are so restless at the sight of your lips having to feel the torture. Curse the unknown! "What?"

"Hm?"

"There is something you want to say but you're not allowing yourself to."

You take a deep breath and move your head just a little closer towards him in order to whisper. "It's not that I'm not mischievous... it's just that I'm often presumed to be the embodiment of a golden child and so I've never been caught. Ever."

The slight shift in Loki's expression that elevates from seriousness to confusion calls for clarification.

"I...once laced your brother's drink with laxatives because he pissed me off."

Confusion.

Surprise.

Shock.

"Y/N Y/L/N," Loki nearly gasps, feeling his head rise from the fluffy pillow, "you did what?"

And the night drowns with the light laughter and old stories for the mutual feeling of detest for siblings and contrast in the view of the world. Discussions went on through the timeless breeze blowing throughout the night about the worlds beyond and the things undiscovered; everything riding on a melody till one of you feel victim to the sweet sounds of slumber.

Loki's eyes are stuck on you all night, watching the serenity washing over your face as all worries seem to fall away while you let yourself drift in peace. Beautiful seems to be an understatement according to the God.

Even though she's an immortal, she does not deserve to be tied to me for eternity. That's a fate too cruel.

But something inside him does not want these words to be true; a gentle tug to his heartstrings by you, that seems to have struck a chord he cannot stop playing.

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mxliv-oftheendless · 4 years

Text

Twist of Fate, Chapter 5

We’re back again! I’m thinking I’m going to post new chapters every other day so I don’t overwhelm myself with stuff I have to do. So without further ado, here’s the next chapter! I’m sure y’all want to see what happens after that cliffhanger I ended Chapter 4 on lol. Tagging @cosmicrealmofkissteria and @tanookiroxx. Enjoy!

In which Starchild is stressed out, and Amalthea provides some information that does not help at all... or does it?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When morning came and Starchild opened his eyes, the first thing he recalled from last night was…

“Tomaziel…”

Starchild went still and stared at the wall in absolute horror. Oh Gods… what had he done?

He rolled over onto his back and dragged his hand over his eyes, groaning. He couldn’t believe he had done that. He couldn’t believe he had moaned out Tomaziel’s name.

Even if… Even if the memory of hearing it on his tongue made his heart beat a little faster in his chest, because in that moment it had felt so incredibly right to say it out loud.

No! No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t do this again—fall in love with someone and ultimately get his heart broken. First it was Nikki, then it was Ace, then it was Nikki again… He couldn’t fall in love with Tomaziel, just to get his heart broken when he inevitably learned Tomaziel didn’t feel the same way about him.

Or was he even in love? Maybe it was just a lust attraction. If he was being honest with himself, Tomaziel was handsome. He obviously spent time grooming himself, and it showed; he couldn’t help liking that about him. But maybe he was simply attracted to how handsome Tomaziel was, not Tomaziel himself.

He winced. That actually sounded worse… If it really was that, he couldn’t ever tell him. He didn’t want to be the one that broke a heart, especially if it was Tomaziel’s. Tomaziel was too kind, too patient, too empathetic to deserve that.

And anyway, if he was for a moment to pretend that maybe it wasn’t a lust attraction and that he really did like Tomaziel himself… Tomaziel couldn’t possibly feel the same way.

… Or could he?

Suddenly Starchild thought back to the day he arrived. When he held out his hand for Tomaziel to shake. When Tomaziel had touched his hand and accidentally shocked him. But hadn’t he said it was because he was still learning how to control his lightning?

And yet at the same time, a memory resurfaced, of years and years ago at the party where he met Ace for the first time. When their hands touched, and he felt the same kind of electric shock.

“Don’t you worry your curly little head about that, Starshine. It’s a good thing on Jendell… trust me.”

What did that mean?

-JENDELL-

For the first time the entire week, Starchild was incredibly distracted the entire meeting. He stared off into space, trying to think and figure things out. What could the electric shock mean? It wasn’t a painful shock; more of what happened when someone rubbed their feet on a carpet and then touched you.

Thinking about what had happened when Tomaziel touched his hand made his hand tingle at the memory. It felt so pleasant…

But what was he supposed to do? How could he tell Tomaziel, when Tomaziel probably only saw him as a friend. Did he even want to be with Tomaziel in a romantic way, or was he simply attracted to him because of his looks? And no matter what the answer, there was no way it would go anywhere—he had two more weeks before returning home, and both he and Tomaziel would be busy for most of the days.

He suddenly felt an elbow nudge him and glanced up. Ace looked at him in slight concern and discreetly pushed a piece of paper at him. Starchild looked down and found Ace had written on it. Everything okay?

He picked up his pencil and wrote back. Yes, I’m fine. Is Monique joining us for lunch today?

Ace smiled. She was on her best behavior all day yesterday, so yes, she is.

I can’t wait to meet her.

Neither can she.

It seemed like hours, but finally the meeting ended. Ace and Starchild immediately stood up, as did Tomaziel, who was sitting on Ace’s other side. “Shall I go begin the preparations now, my King?” he asked.

Starchild had to turn away and pretend he was looking with interest at the lights hanging from the ceiling. Ace paid him no attention. “Yes, that would be good, Tomaziel.”

“Preparations for what?” Starchild asked as they headed out of the meeting hall.

“For the party at the end of the three weeks you’re here,” Ace explained. “It’s to give a nice send-off to the KISSterians.”

Starchild smiled; he did like the sound of that. “That sounds fun,”

“Well, I hope it will be,” Ace chuckled. “But enough about that. Lunchtime!”

-JENDELL-

When they arrived in the smaller dining room, set for the two of them, the Elder, and Amalthea, they found the Elder and Amalthea already there. Sitting with Amalthea was a little girl who… actually, who looked like a spitting image of Ace. “—when will they be here?” she was groaning impatiently to Amalthea.

“Right now,” Ace said aloud, grinning at the sight of the girl.

The girl whipped her head around and immediately lit up. “Father!” She got up to run to Ace as he knelt down to her height.

Laughing, Ace hugged her, then tapped her nose. “Were you a good girl all morning, Moni?”

“Yes, Father!” she nodded her head and smiled proudly, perhaps proud of herself.

“Good, because there’s someone who wants to meet you.” Ace turned her to gesture up to Starchild. “Monique, I’d like you to meet Prince Starchild,”

Just as Ace had said yesterday, Monique looked up at him in awe. Smiling, Starchild went down on one knee and offered his hand to her. “Hello, Monique. I’ve been waiting all week to meet you.”

“Really?” Monique asked, blinking in surprise.

“Yes, really. Your father’s told me a lot about you.”

Monique smiled and took his hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Prince Starchild,”

“Oh, please, just Starchild is fine.”

“Really?” Monique looked starstruck, and it made Starchild smile even more.

“Yes, really.”

Monique smiled so wide he thought it would split her face in two. “Can we sit together while we eat?”

“As long as your parents don’t mind,”

To his amusement, Monique scoffed. “They won’t mind. Come on!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the table.

Starchild laughed and started walking. “Lead the way, Princess,”

He spent most of lunch talking with Monique—or, rather, him answering all the questions the little princess was firing off at him. She wanted to know everything about KISSteria, his life, what it was like being a Prince, what it was like being in a band on Earth, if she had meant anyone cool, and so forth and so forth and so forth.

It was easy to distract himself from what had been plaguing his thoughts all morning. All he could think about was that shock. Was he just overthinking it? Was it really just Tomaziel’s powers briefly losing control? And how “good” exactly was the shock?

When lunch was over, Ace volunteered to take Monique back to her room. “Alright, c’mon, you little troublemaker!” he lifted her up off the ground.

Monique giggled and gave him an innocent look. “I’m not a troublemaker, Papa!”

“Yeah, I’m sure,”

Starchild smiled at them. Then he noticed Amalthea getting up to leave. “Amalthea,” he said quickly, standing. “Could I speak to you for a moment?”

Amalthea looked surprised but nodded. “What about?”

“Nothing,” Starchild turned to smirk at Ace. “I just wanted to know how much of a pain in the neck it is to be married to Ace.”

“Hey!” Ace protested. “I’m not that bad, am I?” He looked at Amalthea, who pretended to be engrossed at looking up at the sky. “Amalthea!”

Amalthea laughed. “I’m only kidding, dear,”

“I’m being ganged up on!” Ace proclaimed dramatically. “Monique, you still love me, right?”

Monique hugged his neck. “I still love you, Father,”

“Hah, see? Moni still loves me!”

Once they had walked off, as had the Elder, Amalthea turned to Starchild. “Now, what did you wish to speak about? I get the feeling it isn’t about Ace.”

Starchild shook his head. “No… Well, actually, he does have something to do with it. When…” How was he going to phrase it? “When Ace touches your hand, do you ever feel a… an electric shock?”

Luckily, Amalthea understood immediately. “Oh, you mean the Spark?”

“The Spark?”

“Yes, that is what we call it. Yes, I do. Truth be told, it… it took some time. Nothing happened when we were first married, because we hardly knew each other. But as we spent more time together, one day…” Amalthea seemed to be smiling at the memory. “One day, it happened.”

Starchild nodded. “All right. But… what does it mean?”

“Well, when we Jendellians are… attracted, you might say, to someone, more static electricity builds up in their bodies. And when they are close to that person, the one they are attracted to, the electricity discharges. Often if they touch the person, it can feel like a static shock.”

Starchild’s heart began to nervously beat faster. “Oh… I see…”

“Why do you ask?”

He immediately panicked. What was he supposed to say? “Oh, no reason, just panicking that your aide might have given me a static shock that was actually the Spark all along, nothing major,”? “… I saw a mention of the Spark in a book and wanted to know what it was,”

“Did the book not explain?”

“No, it didn’t,”

“Ah, I see. It is not as common in KISSteria, I imagine.”

“No… No, it isn’t. Thank you, Amalthea.”

Amalthea smiled and nodded, and he wished he could be as happy as she was. “You’re quite welcome.” She gathered up her skirts. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must go see where my husband and daughter went off to.”

A laugh burst out. “No doubt they’re causing trouble,”

“No doubt. She takes after him far too much.”

“Oh, I could tell,”

As soon as she walked off, Starchild turned around and tried to think of what to do. He couldn’t believe what he had been told. Was Tomaziel attracted to him? Was there even a possibility of it? Or had it just been an accident? He wasn’t sure which was worse…

You need to tell him, his mind said aloud. But what if Tomaziel took it the wrong way? What if it wasn’t the Spark and he was overthinking things? You still need to tell him. At the very least, tell him you might be falling for him. There’s no need to tell him you moaned out his name last night.

There was still a large part of Starchild that didn’t want to tell Tomaziel anything at all. He wanted to keep his mouth shut and not say anything, so he wouldn’t ruin whatever friendship he had formed with the man. He actually valued his and Tomaziel’s friendship; he liked having a friend who he could talk about anything with. He liked having a friend who knew he used to be someone he probably wouldn’t have liked, but didn’t care. He liked Tomaziel… as a friend.

“Tomaziel…”

Or did he?

Starchild rubbed his temples, groaning helplessly. This wasn’t getting him anywhere. He needed to go hit something. Wasn’t there a training hall somewhere?

After a brief period of wandering aimlessly, he got directions and made a beeline down the hall. Perhaps some time in the training hall would let him take his mind off things. Who knew, perhaps he would even be able to think more clearly after working out? He could hear the sounds of crackling electricity as he got closer; someone was already in there. But it wasn’t until he opened the doors and walked inside that he saw who it was, and he froze and stared.

Because once again, fate had decided to make him encounter Tomaziel.

#Shandi's KISSteriaverse #twist of fate #lmao starchild i'm sorry i'm doing this to you sweetie #... only a little bit #also we finally meet the little princess monique!#also i know at this point it's obvious this is a spacechild fic so i'm going to start adding that tag after the next chapter #AND I ENDED IT ON ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER XD I'M TERRIBLE #spacechild #kiss au writing #my writing #hope you enjoyed!#stay tuned for chapter six!

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be-dazzled · 4 years

Photo

#SIYC

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser FFnet: click here Tumblr: explore here Genre: Multi-Chapter, Romance, Comedy Rating: M for sensitive language and content

Summary: Gray Fullbuster is a player both in love and in life. He plays Professional Basketball and is being groomed to be in line with Basketball Legends Michael Jordan, Lebron James, Kobe Bryant and Stephen Curry. There's just one problem, Gray Fullbuster is a play-ah. His life is a giant mess of crazy parties, waking up with random women and waking up in random women's apartments. Just living the life.

The opinion of the public on him is waning. To save the million-dollar endorsements in the verge of disappearing, Gray needs to change his image. Therefore, Gray Fullbuster, Fiore Knight's Team Captain and Most Valuable Player, will be in the next season of "My Star Can Dance".

There's another problem: it seems like his star isn't that bright since his partner, one of Fiore's prominent ballerinas, doesn't know him? His billboard is hanging in front of her dancing school! And it was a good billboard since all he was wearing was his six-pack and an Aztec bandana. How come she didn't notice?

…

Who knows where we're going And who knows what we'll find I want to see the world The way I see a world with you

– A World With You, Jason Mraz

…

The sound of waves crashing against the shore. The smell of fresh, afternoon breeze damping his skin. The feel of sand rushing past his bare feet. Gray took them all in and he couldn't remember a place more calm, peaceful and serene. Despite the crowd scattered around the beach lane, Hoopster felt at peace. But no matter how beautiful the place was, it held no candle to Juvia.

Down the famous beach lane, just a merely ten meters away from the Lockser Mansion, Gray and Juvia walked on foot with him carrying both his shoes and the ballerina's sandals. His free hand held hers, tightly enough to let her know that Gray wasn't letting go anytime soon. Their fingers intertwined, fitting the spaces perfectly like they always meant to be. They walked in bliss as the sun started to descend from its throne. In about a minute or two, the beautiful beachside would be dressed in the golden hour.

Gray looked around. As much as he loved the view in his apartment in the city, the beachside was something else. The boisterous laughters coming from a group of children playing in the water caught his attention. A part of him was screaming he wanted one, maybe two or a dozen, and he'd want them to have the freedom to run around and play at the expanse of that beach.

Not now. Not any time soon. With everything in his plate, that dream was to far for reach.

"It's unfair."

His girlfriend's complaint pulled him out of the thought of chasing little ones around the sand.

"I feel so exposed." Juvia pouted, having spent the day learning about herself and none about Gray.

"Well, I like it." He said, kissing the knuckle of the woman whom Gray had the pleasure of knowing her deeply.

"C'mon." She whined, walking ahead only to turn around and face the man. "Tell me something about you too."

Tit for tat.

Gray stopped in his tracks, pulling a pouting Juvia to a halt. He put two fingers under his chin, pretending to think about what to tell her.

"What do you want to know?"

"I wanna know…" she teased, "if Gray really is this elusive playboy the magazine claims him to be."

"By magazines you mean your collection?" A lone brow quirked up at Juvia's direction.

Blue eyes denied the accusation but there was no more hiding about her secret 'Gray-fanatic' era. Juvia's parents made sure of that. She frowned at him and when Gray pulled her into an apologetic embrace, Juvia couldn't keep the frown up anymore. She broke the hug first and returned to her interrogation as they continued the sandy trail along the beach.

Since her secret was already out in the open, the ballerina indulged her teenage fan-girl self whom she long have forgotten. She seized the opportunity and asked Gray about the scandals imputed to him.

"You fought with a fellow Knight because of a girl."

"False. I would never steal a brother's girl."

Juvia raised a questioning brow at him but Gray maintained his innocence.

"Club 413? End of the 88th NBA Season?" Juvia hinted, hoping it would jog Gray's memory and it did.

"Man, that guy could throw a punch." Gray massaged his left jaw as if receiving the hard knuckle yesterday.

"So?" Juvia tugged at him, asking for further explanation.

"First of all, Jenny gave me those cookies. I only punched him 'cause he ate all of 'em."

"So, you got into a fight with Natsu because of cookies?"

Juvia did a good summary of what went down on that fateful night the Fiore Knight's Team Captain and Vice Captain started a brawl outside the 8-Islands bar. Her judging tone and narrowed eyes made the whole story sound ridiculous.

"Hey! In my defense, her cookies were to die for. And don't give me that look. You haven't had a taste of Jenny's cookies."

Despite his warning, Juvia still rolled her eyes at him with palpable judgment. And here she thought Jenny was one of Gray's great loves.

"Anyways, she actually thought we were fighting over her." Gray kicked a scattered pebble and didn't even look to which direction it went. His boy's laugh mixing with the serine sound of waves crashing with the shore. "Like that would ever happen."

"I can't believe that the only thing that could make Gray Fullbuster abandon the 'Bro Code' is a bunch of cookies."

"Yeah." Gray admitted unabashedly, pausing for a while to do some reminiscing, face twisting in satisfaction. "Next question."

"You'll choose food over me."

"False. I like you more than food."

With Gray, that proclamation carried so much weight, it surprised even him. Unlike with the girls that came before Juvia, however, he didn't feel the sudden need to run away or sabotage whatever it was that was happening between them. He wasn't scared at the realization.

"Mirajane Strauss–"

"False. Never dated her. Although, I admit I did try."

"–I wasn't finished. Mirajane Strauss and her sister Lisanna?"

That was one scandal that got Gray some beating from his own mother.

"False!" He denied with conviction. "You've seen their brother, right? The giant wrestler?"

"But you tried?"

"True." Now he answered with regret. Whilst he tried to score one night at some club where the two supermodels frequented, Gray couldn't get pass through the brother-bouncer. But the twin blondes more than made up for it.

"The Vice President's daughter?"

"False. Although, she did try." The corner of his mouth tipped.

"Then what is real?"

"This," He answered, pulling Juvia against him, "this right here is real."

Gray brushed his lips against Juvia's, tasting salt at contact first before his favorite sweet taste of the ballerina's lips. Then, he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, cradling Juvia's small frame against his own. They got lost in the intimate act that they almost missed the reason why they were at the beach. It was Gray who broke the kiss, albeit repentantly, because he wanted to cherish the moment. He wanted to add that memory in the list of his firsts with Juvia – their first sunset.

He spun her around so that they were both facing the horizon. Gray enveloped Juvia in a gentle embrace, pulling her against his chest. Her back was pressed against him. The two stayed in quiet as the sun slowly disappeared.

"You know," he whispered into her ears, "can't help but notice that your questions were all about the girls I allegedly dated." He continued in a tone that teased the bluenette. "Are you asking for my number?"

Juvia swatted his head in denial without taking her eyes of the sunset.

"Don't ruin the moment." She warned. But if Juvia was being honest, Hoopster was right.

Gray planted a light peck on her cheeks before he rested his chin on her shoulders and basked in the beauty of their first sunset together. He heaved out a long sigh. For the first time in his life he wasn't afraid of how he thought he felt. He didn't think about running away from it. He was at peace.

Could it be the scenery? The beach? The cold breeze? Maybe a combination of everything. Despite the beauty around him, his eyes only recognized the bluenette in his arms, staring at the orange sky. Her hair rivaled the pristine waters. Her mellow smile was warmer than the golden hour. Gray was in awe. There was no other way to describe how he felt – happy. Gray was happy.

...

The night brought more revelations. All still about Juvia. It felt like some detective perusing her past and every single skeleton in the closet was being uncovered. She didn't mind watching Gray seated beside her at the dinner table, laughing and listening to her old man about every little information he let slip out.

After dinner, Julian still insisted she and Gray sleep in separate rooms. Juvia had no qualms about it. She hadn't quite figured out where they both stand in the relationship and it was too soon for that. They needed to have the talk but not any time soon. She was happy with how things were and if she was being a little honest, she was scared to tip the boat.

"Hey, hon."

Olivia suddenly appeared at her door, pulling Juvia's attention back to reality.

"Done unpacking?"

Juvia stood from the bed, heaved out a long sigh and as she abandoned the task at hand.

"Almost."

"Gray settling in alright?" Olivia walked up to her daughter.

"I'll check on him after I'm done here." Juvia informed, maneuvering the space in-between her scattered bags.

The older Lockser sauntered into the room and sat on the mattress, tapping on the space next to her as an invitation to Juvia. She gladly accepted.

"I went down the store yesterday to get these."

Olivia handed the young Lockser a paper bag. Juvia didn't notice it earlier when her mother entered the room.

"What is it?" Juvia almost dropped the bag when she realized what was or what were in it.

"I didn't know they had a lot of sizes and… types."

Juvia didn't hear her mother. She was busy fighting and controlling the wave of shame that suddenly hit her. Juvia didn't need to ask what was in the paper bag. She recognized it easily. And Olivia, apparently being the good mother that she was, got enough to last Juvia and Gray a week.

"Mother!" After Juvia recovered from the initial embarrassment, she picked her jaw from the floor and found her voice again. "I won't need these!" She shoved the paper bag back to the surprised Olivia.

It was too soon for that. They haven't even had the talk yet and Juvia wasn't sure if she was ready for it.

"We're not even there yet, mother." She confessed, to Olivia's surprise.

"Huh." Olivia mused. "That's quite surprising. When your dad and I were dating, we can't keep our hands off each other."

Juvia felt the second wave of embarrassment sweep her off her feet.

"The first night we–"

"–I don't really need to know about your first night, mother." Juvia cut Olivia off before she made a revelation that would haunt Juvia to her grave.

The uncomfortable daughter wasn't even sure why they were talking about it. There was nothing to talk about. Gray and Juvia were just not in that place in the relationship. Well, not yet. Juvia stood from the bed hoping her mother would get the idea and leave her alone. Why they were talking about first nights was beyond her.

"I guess your dad and I should just use them."

Good thing Juvia wasn't holding anything valuable and breakable.

"I didn't really have to hear that."

Olivia was just probably pulling her leg with the way she laughed at her daughter's reaction. Juvia had no plans on finding out if there was truth in it though. There were things better left unsaid.

Juvia returned to her unpacking when she heard the light tapping of heels against her floor. As she turned around, Olivia was at the door with the teasing laugh still on her red lips. She placed the paper bag on the tall lamp table near the door.

"I'll just put them here. In case the need arises."

Juvia cringed.

"Besides, I don't think your dad and I would be needing them."

Did she just hint at…

Juvia almost doubled flipped in embarrassment.

"Nobody needs to know what you do in your bedroom mother. My goodness." She shouted after her.

Whatever plans Juvia had to drop by at the guest room to say good night to Gray, she abandoned. This scene right here was going to haunt her for weeks like the 'dancing is like making love' shenanigans.

...

Writer's Corner: DID I JUST FORGOT TO POST CHAPTER 11 HERE?!?!?!!? Please forgive me. Anyways, Chapter 12 is up! #GruviaForever

#gray x juvia #gruvia #she's in your court #siyc #gruvia fanfiction #gruvia au #gruvia modern au #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #modern au #writeblr

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Until the Day Breaks and the Shadows Flee: 1/8

Here it is, my second contribution to the @cssns! I am really excited about this one because the story of Cupid and Psyche is my favorite myth, and I’ve been contemplating this fic since we first heard of the Underworld arc. Since CS spends all their time in the dark and in bed, this ended up being the steamiest story I’ve ever written. It’s not smut (that’s what my beta and I concluded, anyway), but it goes right up to the line. I must warn you, however, that you’ll have to endure a few chapters of slow burn first. I hope you all enjoy it!

A thousand thank yous to my beta @snowbellewells who is graciously still doing her thing even though she just had to go back to work at her teaching job because I last minute decided to make this an MC. And thanks also to @hollyethecurious for the gorgeous artwork that really sums up this story so well!

Summary: Every night, she traces the contours of his body as Killian whispers words of love against her skin. But can Princess Emma ever be fully happy with a husband who only comes to her in utter darkness? A Captain Swan AU of the Roman myth of Cupid and Psyche.

** I’m also curious if anyone knows where the fic and chapter titles come from. Drop me and ask if you have a guess!**

Rating: M for sexual situations

Words: about 3,000 in this chapter

Also on Ao3

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list): @kday426 @jennjenn615 @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @kmomof4 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @profdanglaisstuff @shireness-says @wellhellotragic @distant-rose @mythologicalmango @optomisticgirl @xhookswenchx @branlovestowrite @ultraluckycatnd @vvbooklady1256 @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @whimsicallyenchantedrose @tiganasummertree @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @ohmakemeahercules @gingerchangeling @nikkiemms @revanmeetra87 @cocohook38

Chapter One: On the Rugged Mountain

The procession making its way down the streets of Misthaven was beautiful in a macabre sort of way. It was led by chanting priests in black hooded robes swinging orbs of burning incense. Behind them, Queen Snow and King David rode in an open carriage draped in black satin and drawn by a team of chestnut horses. They were both decked in mourning clothes of black, the queen’s face covered by a lace veil. Behind them was another carriage, this one drawn by two white horses. This one was closed, dark curtains pulled shut. Yet everyone knew who was inside, dressed in the wedding gown that should have been worn in celebration. The townspeople lowered their heads as it passed, some dabbing silently at their tears. Bringing up the rear of the procession were the ladies of the court, also dressed in garments of mourning. The only sounds apart from the clip-clop of the horses and the creaking of the carriage wheels came from them: deep wails of grief accompanied at times by the warbly singing of an old folk song about a maiden wed to death himself.

At the village gates, the priests and mourning maidens abandoned the procession, standing before a throng of villagers. The silence that had fallen amongst the people remained until the royal carriages crested a hill and were no longer in sight.

On these two carriages traveled, cloaked in silence. Even the king and queen were at a loss for words to comfort one another, and their daughter had requested to be left alone for the journey.

Finally, the carriages rumbled to a stop at the top of a misty hill. It was rumored to be filled with monsters and lesser gods and goddesses whose constant turmoil created the rumblings of thunder and flashes of lightning upon its peak.

King David helped his wife down from the carriage, then went to assist his daughter. Yet the door opened before he could lend his hand, and Emma alighted on her own, her face pale yet determined, her back straight.

“Emma,” her mother said, a sob rising in her throat, “you don’t have to do this.”

The princess’s stony expression softened slightly at her mother’s tears. “Yes, I do. What is my life compared to that of our entire kingdom?”

Snow let her tears go then, clasping her daughter in a desperate embrace. David enveloped both his girls, his hand coming up to cup the back of his daughter’s head. It seemed only yesterday he was rocking her to sleep after a midnight feeding. He kissed the top of her forehead before releasing her with a trembling smile, his eyes awash with tears.

Emma clasped the pure white fabric of her gown in both fists. “You know what the oracle said. You must leave me here alone.”

Snow practically collapsed in her husband’s arms as he led her away. Emma watched both royal carriages rumble back down the hill, her courage fleeing with them. Once they were out of sight completely, she fell in a heap upon the ground. She was surprised, however, when tears didn’t come. She supposed she’d had time to accept her fate.

The mist turned to a thick fog, and she wondered if she would die quickly before seeing the monster approach. She closed her eyes and awaited her “groom.” A virginal sacrifice to sate the hunger of a beast and save a kingdom. It was an old story, wasn’t it?

***************************************************

Emma had imagined many gruesome scenarios since she learned that she was destined to be the “bride” of a hideous creature. Yet in none of those tableaus had she imagined that she would get bored waiting for the damn thing to show up. Yet here she was, going out of her mind wondering how much time had passed. She curled up on the ground, using the long train of her dress as a makeshift pillow. She didn’t expect to sleep, but suddenly she was jolted awake by the hot sun on her face.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, amazed to see the green hill, dotted with the most beautiful roses she had ever seen, and the sky bright and blue above her. The fog was rolling away, revealing such amazing beauty as it went. Then the fog revealed something even more unbelievable, and Emma’s jaw dropped.

Right before her was a huge, glittering castle. It was of white stone, with angels on every buttress and turret instead of gargoyles. Every bit of filigree and trim around its windows and doors was done in gold. Emma scrambled to her feet, in complete awe. As if the castle itself knew she was awake, its gates swung open. Emma hesitated for a moment, part of her wondering if she were still sleeping, and another part worrying that it was a trick, but a tug in her core seemed to pull her towards the castle.

She went through the open gates, marveling further at the beauty that surrounded her. A path of white marble cut through a garden filled with flowers of every hue. They seemed more vibrant than any Emma had ever seen, and butterflies and hummingbirds flitted around them by the dozens.

Just like the gates, the doors of the castle swung open of their own accord. Emma made her way up steps also of pure white marble. The marble extended into the foyer of the castle, yet as the door gently closed behind her, the feeling enveloping her was one of warmth. Despite the cool stone beneath her feet, the wooden banister of the spiral staircase was a comforting mahogany, and the plush furnishings made her long to curl up and take a nap.

“Hello?” she called out tentatively.

In response, Emma heard giggling and childlike chatter.

“You were supposed to greet her at the door!”

“Well, you were supposed to be watching from the second floor balcony.”

“Hush, both of you, you’ll scare her!”

At first, Emma couldn’t figure out where the voices were coming from. Then she noticed glittering balls of colored light bouncing and floating all around her. If the accompanying voices hadn’t sounded so delightful, she might have been frightened.

The orbs began to grow and lengthen, and Emma could make out three distinct colors: green, purple, and red. Then she was able to see wings, then the tiny creatures attached to them.

“Fairies!” Emma exclaimed with a smile.

The orbs faded, and then three young women were delicately landing upon the marble floor in front of her. The first had blonde hair like Emma’s, pulled into a loose bun on the top of her head. Her dress looked as if it were made of green leaves.

“I’m Tinkerbell,” she said with a curtsy, “and I take care of the flowers in the garden and will also be your cook.”

The second fairy had long dark hair plaited in two braids, an olive colored complexion, and large brown eyes. Her dress was made of soft deerskin dyed with indigo and decorated with intricate beading.

“I’m Tiger Lily, and we all take care of the flowers, Tink.”

Emma bit her lip to keep from laughing at the dark haired fairy’s obvious irritation with the blonde.

The red-head giggled fondly at her fellow fairies, then addressed Emma. “I am Ariel, and I am to be your chambermaid.” Then she gasped and lowered into a deep curtsy. “I mean, your majesty.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open in surprise as the other two fairies curtsied as well. “I, I don’t understand -”

“We are here to wait upon you,” Tiger Lily explained, “at our master’s command.”

“Your . . . master?”

“Of course!” Tink exclaimed, clapping her hands merrily, “You are his bride, after all.”

Dread flooded through Emma’s veins. Being sacrificed to a monster was one thing, actually being married to one was quite another. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

“And . . . who is your master?”

Ariel giggled, and Emma was suddenly weary of the blonde and redhead’s exuberance. At least Tiger Lily seemed more sedate.

“We can’t tell you that!” Ariel exclaimed, as if it were a silly question.

Tiger Lily reached out and grasped Emma’s hands. “You are home now, m’lady, that is all you need know. All will be provided for you; anything and everything your heart desires.”

“But,” she bit upon her lower lip, “when will I meet my . . . husband?” She tried not to choke on the word.

For the first time, Tink looked solemn. “You won’t see him much, I’m afraid. He has many responsibilities. He is away from the castle now, and he gave no word of when he would be back.”

Emma frowned and pulled her hands out of Tiger Lily’s grip. “What kind of being is he? A cyclops? A chimera? What?”

All three fairies burst into giggles - apparently Tiger Lily could be silly too - and without answering, they transformed back into pixies. They dipped and swirled as they darted around Emma’s head in a most annoying fashion.

“Whatever you wish to eat will be served in the dining hall,” Tink’s voice called out.

Emma sighed as the fairies disappeared. She hugged her middle and did a cautious turn, taking in her ornate, exquisitely lovely surroundings. Well, she was hungry, and pork chops with gravy and roasted potatoes would really hit the spot . . .

Scarcely were the thoughts formed when she smelled something delicious down the hallway at the east end of the castle. She followed it, easily finding the dining hall, spread with a feast of all her favorite foods. She wondered for a moment if it could be poisoned, but her growling stomach won out in the end and she sat down to pile her plate high.

Even captive Princesses forced into marriages with beasts had to eat, after all.

************************************************************************

Ariel chattered excitedly as she showed Emma around her new chambers. They were gorgeous, Emma had to admit, with a large, ornate bed surrounded by exquisite tapestries. Emma longed to draw them around her and sink into the inviting bed piled high with soft pillows.

“Now this,” Ariel said, flitting across the room, “is the master’s favorite part.”

She flung open the French doors that lead out onto a spacious balcony, but Emma latched onto a single word. Her heart plummeted, and the last thing she cared about was a balcony with a view.

“The master’s? This . . . these are his chambers?”

Ariel turned to face her, head tilted innocently. “Of course. I mean . . . they are yours now, too. Yours and his. The . . . marital suite?”

The fairy was wringing her hands now, her face slightly pale. She turned to shut the French doors and pulled yet another tapestry across it. Avoiding Emma’s gaze, she went about the room lighting several candelabra. Then she opened the wardrobe, pulled out a long satin gown and laid it out on the bed.

“So the master will be sleeping here as well? That’s what you’re saying?” Emma demanded, stepping close to Ariel.

Her maid turned slowly to face her. “Yes. I mean, he is your husband after all.”

Emma clasped her hands together as they began to shake and took in a deep breath. She would not succumb to fear now, not when her kingdom was in danger. She released the air in her lungs and tried to force her pulse to slow.

“And when shall he return?”

Ariel shook her head, a look of apology upon her face. “I’m sorry, but one can never tell.” She bit her lip for a moment, then smiled encouragingly at Emma as she grasped her hands. “You have nothing to fear, Princess, I promise you.”

Easy for a fairy to say, Emma thought dryly. She wasn’t sharing a bed with . . . whatever the master was.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Ariel asked.

“No. I just wish to be alone.”

As soon as Ariel’s footsteps faded out into the hallway, Emma sank onto the bed, finding it just as soft and inviting as she had imagined. She lay sideways, curled in on herself, eyeing the satin gown disdainfully. The cloth looked light as air and far more comfortable than the wedding gown she still wore, yet it had thin ribbons for straps and a plunging neckline, clearly a garment meant for seduction. She simply wouldn’t wear it.

Try as she might, however, she couldn’t get comfortable in her cumbersome gown. Frustrated, she leapt up and stomped over to the wardrobe. Inside, she found a collection of beautiful gowns, and in the back, a collection of nightgowns. She grumbled when she found that they were all in the same style, simply in different colors. Black, red, and pink didn’t seem any better than white, so she returned to the bed and began removing her dress. As she struggled with the corset, she wished she had asked Ariel for her help after all, but eventually she was slipping the simple satin garment over her head. It slid against her bare skin deliciously, and Emma sighed in contentment. She crossed over to the vanity and removed the crown of flowers pinned in her hair, running her fingers through her long locks.

A shiver ran down her spine as she crawled into the giant bed, pulling three of the four tapestries closed. On the open side, she kept the last candelabra burning, the encroaching darkness causing panic to crawl across her skin. She slipped beneath the covers, hoping against hope that the master wouldn’t be returning for their “wedding night.”

He didn’t even bother to see me in my wedding dress, Emma thought sarcastically to herself. She started to laugh bitterly, but then an image rose in her brain of being chased through the halls of the castle by a lust-enraged dragon or minotaur, and it turned into a hysterical half-sob.Then the blood froze in her veins at a creaking sound on the other side of the closed tapestries. Did someone just enter through the balcony doors?

The lights in the candelabra by her bed burned lower in an unnatural way, and Emma’s pulse quickened. She scrambled to the head of the bed, fisting the sheets and blankets at her chin. Was this when the monster would come? Had he been toying with her all this time?

A rush of air blew through the room, extinguishing all the light. The tapestries around the bed, which had seemed so luxurious when she first entered the chamber, now felt like heavy walls trapping her in. She held her breath, straining to hear, but it was useless against the pounding of her heart. She sensed his presence more than anything when he reached the bed, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Not that it made a difference in the pitch-black room.

“I won’t lay a hand on you.” His voice was deep, yet gentle.

Emma opened her eyes but still didn’t relax her posture. “I find that difficult to believe considering this,” she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “is our wedding night.”

She felt the bed dip and pulled her feet up hastily.

“Believe it or not, I speak the truth. You can trust me.”

Emma squinted in the darkness, trying to see his face.

“You won’t be able to see me,” he told her calmly.

“Then how can you expect me to trust you?” she shot back, unable to keep the frustration from her voice.

He surprised her by chuckling in a low, warm tone.

She licked her dry lips. “What kind of monster are you?”

“I’m not a monster,” he answered simply.

She eased forward hesitantly. “Then you’re human?”

“I . . . didn’t say that either.” She heard him pull in a deep breath. “Listen, all you need know is that you are safe and the plague that was ravishing your kingdom is over.”

Emma bit her lower lip. “But you expect something in return?”

“The only thing I ask is what you are willing to give.”

Emma fell back on her pillows in exasperation. “You speak in riddles just like the oracle!”

There was that chuckle again. “They do like to be mysterious, don’t they?”

Now that she was lounging upon her pillows, Emma released the sheets from her grip as well. “So what are we doing, exactly? You say you won’t touch me, so why are you here?”

“You are still my bride, that much is true, and like any groom, I wish to get to know you.”

“Most grooms do that before the wedding.”

He laughed again, and the sound was actually becoming relaxing. She wriggled down beneath the covers and attempted to stifle a yawn.

“You’ve had a long day,” he said gently. “How about tomorrow night you tell me a bit about yourself?”

Emma hesitated, her body tensing involuntarily. As if he could see her reaction, he hastily spoke again.

“Rest assured, I will not touch you without your consent. Ever.”

Emma swallowed, wanting to believe him, but unsure if she should. “Okay, I suppose tomorrow night we can talk. On one condition?”

He hesitated, and it sounded as if he were clearing his throat. “Within reason. That’s all I can promise you.”

“Tell me your name.”

She could literally hear his body sag in relief. And was it possible to hear someone smile?

“That is easy, love. Please call me Killian.”

“Killian,” she repeated, almost testing it on her tongue. “I like it.”

“I rather fancy it myself.” Yes, he was definitely smiling.

A pleasant breeze blew through the tapestries, and then the candles flickered back to life. Her new husband was gone.

#cs ff #cssns #cssns 2019 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs au #cupid and psyche au #myth #enchanted forest au #slow burn

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maksylmyheart · 5 years

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t's a balmy evening in June, the air rich with the smell of fresh flowers, the breeze rustling the trees and wafting the distant lilt of music on strings. The magical is meeting with the practical here: the idyllic beauty of a Provencal wedding reconciled with the aching realities of spending an afternoon walking gardens and gravel paths in a pair of heels. Instead of slipping away to gaze lovingly into one another's eyes, the bride and groom excuse themselves for a quick wardrobe change so that she can be more comfortable at the reception—not a fairytale romance, but the real world kind.

But just as it seems that the evening might be coming back down to earth, wonder reasserts itself. As they make their way back to their guests, the blue kiss of twilight turns buttery yellow under strings of lights woven between a lane of stretching plane trees, their friends and family seated for a feast beneath the glow of the lights.

"We just kept taking deep breaths and trying to take it in because I think that was one of the most impactful moments," says the bride, Meryl Davis. "We'd been dating for a long time and we've loved one another for a long time, and yet the experience of sharing that moment with each other was so beautiful. It's probably my favorite memory ever up to this point."

And that's some stiff competition: after all, for an Olympic medalist and Dancing With the Stars champion, there are plenty of spectacular memories to choose from.

How Meryl and Fedor Got Together

Hailing from the suburbs of Detroit, an international hub for professional and competitive skating, Meryl Davis spent much of her young life training to achieve the heights of Olympics greatness that she reached with partner Charlie White at the 2014 winter Olympics, when the duo took gold in ice dancing.

"I didn't have to move away from my family or across the country or to a different country in order to pursue skating, which is pretty rare," she explains.

Meanwhile her now-husband Fedor Andreev, himself a professional skater, was in some ways the opposite—born in Russia, he moved to Canada as a child with his mother, Marina Zoueva, who would later go on to be Meryl's longtime coach. From there, he lived in a number of cities, including several years living and training in Detroit.

"We certainly got to know each other within the context of sport and within the figure skating community," said Meryl. "Fedor was five years older than me, and when you're young, that that feels like a big difference. So we are friends who've sort of blossomed over time."

With such busy lives, the couple didn't begin to date until 2010, around the same time Fedor was preparing to retire from competitive skating. Not that retirement slowed their pace down much; in the years since they got together, Fedor graduated from the University of Michigan's Ross School of Business (Meryl is getting her anthropology there as well), Meryl earned first a silver and later a gold medal at the Olympics before retiring from the competition, and both have continued managing active careers on and off the ice.

Starting Their Adventure Together

"Adventure and travel has always been a part of our lives," explains Meryl. "I've always traveled to with figure skating for competition and I think I just gained an early appreciation of how much a sense of place can impact your experience. And then with Fedor being from Russia and moving to Canada, New York, Hong Kong, Detroit, he's a worldly person, so that's really been a part of our lives as a couple; traveling and experiencing different places."

They brought that love of travel home with them, too. "When we were renovating our home in Detroit, I wanted to incorporate sort of a French countryside element. I stumbled upon this Instagram account where this woman was sharing the renovation of an 18th century farmhouse in Provence."

The property in question was Le Mas des Poiriers, a 65-acre farm outside of Avignon with a seven bedroom farmhouse and cottage owned by Connecticut couple Shauna Varvel and her husband, who spent three years renovating the property after purchasing it in 2015.

"I was just completely fascinated by her eye for design and authenticity of the renovation, making sure to maintain the integrity of the home and the property," says Meryl.

When Meryl and Fedor got engaged in the summer of 2017, the property felt like a natural fit for their ceremony.

"Fedor and I visited the property and we both just were completely in awe of this magical place," says Meryl. "There's something about that part of the world that inspires you to embrace a slower pace; just sitting down and enjoying a meal and a glass of wine with your family and friends. That's really what we envisioned for our wedding, just really trying to be present and be in the moment."

Planning a Wedding Overseas

Despite their love of travel and the dreamy locale, a wedding in Provence did require some careful consideration, though.

"We spent a lot of time going back and forth trying to decide whether or not a destination wedding made sense because obviously it's an investment for not just us and our families, but for our guests as well," says Meryl. "Ultimately we felt, especially after talking to a lot of our friends and family who were like, 'oh, we'd love to come,' that adventure is just such a part of our lives and we were excited to utilize this opportunity to do that, not just together, but with our friends and family."

However, the couple were mindful of the fact that the style of their wedding meant foregoing some of the now-standard wedding extras. "Once we made that decision that it was going to be the destination, we wanted to keep everything else as simple as possible," Meryl explains. "I didn't want to ask people to do anything or plan any other trips, so I decided not to do a bachelorette party or a bridal shower. We just wanted everyone to have a good time and enjoy it and not feel obligated to do anything other than show up and have a great time."

As for the technical aspects of the planning, the couple relied on event planners Matthew Robbins and Luis Otoya of Matthew Robbins Design for all of the details.

"Matthew is the preferred event planner of the homeowner, so she introduced us to him and Luis. They were the first wedding planners we really spoke to and we were sold right away," says Meryl. "It feels like planning a destination wedding in Europe for just under a hundred people should be really stressful and complicated, but our planners made it such a pleasure and so easy."

Breaking With Tradition

For two people who have spent much of their young lives globetrotting and competing on the world stage, it's hardly a surprise that Meryl and Fedor aren't exactly your typical couple, nor could theirs be your typical wedding.

"We really want the weekend to be a reflection of us and who we are as opposed to just sticking to tradition for the sake of sticking to tradition," explains Meryl. "We stayed together throughout the week in France instead of having separate rooms or not seeing each other the day of the wedding. We wanted to enjoy the day of the wedding together and, and enjoy what an exciting time it was in our lives."

The couple chose to read personal letters to one another in place of classic wedding vows. Meryl's uncle, Cam Davis, served as the officiant for the ceremony.

Instead of a large bridal party, they chose to get their families involved in other ways. Meryl's uncle, Cam Davis, served as the officiant for the ceremony, and her brother Clayton was the man of honor. Fedor's cousin, Danielle Vincent, owner of beauty brand Kimiko, served double-duty as both his best lady and as Meryl's makeup artist.

"It was nice to have that personal touch, to have family doing my makeup," Meryl says. She adds, "I actually had the hairstylist that I worked with during Dancing With the Stars in 2014 come with us and she did my hair throughout the weekend, so that was really fun as well."

Both of Meryl's parents walked her down the aisle to her favorite song, "The Swan" by Camille Saint-Saëns.

"For me it was all really pragmatic, tactical things that I cared about," says Fedor. "That probably tells you something about our personalities too, but I wanted to not draw the ceremony out too long because the summer gets pretty hot and people are wearing suits. So we wanted to keep it as intimate as possible—maybe 10 to 12 minutes total."

At the reception, the couple opted for a parent dance instead of the typical father-daughter dance. "My dad and I danced while Fedor and his mom were also dancing." Meryl laughs, adding, "That was more because my dad doesn't like being the center of attention."

The Proposal

Of course, their wedding wasn't the start of their less-than-traditional streak. "I think Meryl would not have loved a super traditional proposal," says Fedor, "So it was a bit of a challenge kind of planning it."

In July 2017, as the couple were planning a trip to Napa with Meryl's parents in conjunction with a business engagement in San Francisco, Fedor decided to use their shared love of the outdoors and hiking to create a unique memory.

"I decided that it was a good idea to pop the question on a hike that we had never done before," he laughs. "I had no clue how challenging it would be. Because I had never been on the trail, I didn't know where the perfect place to do it would be, so several times I started taking the ring box out of my backpack and then was like, 'Whoa, no, abort, abort.' It ended up working out on the back of the loop, right as we were going over a crest overlooking the ocean, I was like, 'Well, it's now or never cause there's only a quarter of a mile left.'"

"I always like taking pictures of the ocean and then when I turned around and put my phone down, Fedor was on one knee," Meryl explains. "That was a really beautiful emotional moment, just the two of us in the woods overlooking the ocean."

The Ring

"The year prior [to our engagement] we had been on vacation in Santorini and Fedor was admiring some watches in a jewelry store," says Meryl. "I stumbled upon a ring I just loved, and apparently Fedor took note. When we got home from our vacation, he began designing and seeking out the perfect yellow diamonds."

Fedor jokes, "Apparently I was the only person to ever come to jeweler with a full PowerPoint presentation on what I wanted. I did a lot of research and I just wanted to make sure that it really captured everything that was important to Meryl."

Their Something Blue

While her engagement ring features yellow diamonds, the colors for the wedding went a different direction, inspired by Meryl's family.

The five-tiered wedding blue and white cake by Catherine Pierard from Provence-based Made In Cake.

"When I began telling [our wedding planners] Matthew and the Luis what I envisioned, it was sort of an elevated backyard dinner in the summer, with flowers that felt like they could be taken out of the garden," says Meryl. "Just very warm and welcoming. And for me, when I think of like warm and welcoming, I think of sitting down to family dinner around a table of blue and white Chinoiserie. That has sort of been our family tradition; my grandmother has collected those pieces for as long as I can remember."

Meryl's grandmother's collection served as the inspiration for the five-tiered wedding blue and white cake by Catherine Pierard from Provence-based Made In Cake, as well as the table settings in vintage china from Le Bazar de rêve by Veronique for the Brunet Frères Traiteur meal, with table linens from Linen Way and Juliska napkins.

The food for the reception was catered by Brunet Frères Traiteur.

For the flowers, they kept to the blue theme with an equally familial inspiration.

"My parents still live in the same house in Michigan that I was born in, and Michigan summers are truly spectacular," says Meryl. "We always had these gigantic blue booming hydrangeas that just for me are the epitome of, you know, running barefoot through the grass and just being in the garden in the summer. It just felt like home, and it was also elegant."

The Dress

In keeping with her style, Meryl and her stylist Cynthia Cook Smith chose a Monique Lhuillier dress in a subtle neutral instead of the classic white.

"It was an interesting experience picking the wedding dress, just because ice dance tends to be very theatrical and ornate and, and costume design has been a really enjoyable part of our sport for me; I've always designed costumes with my mom."

Meryl's mother Cheryl Davis helped her get ready.

"Coming in, I thought, 'Do I really want something that looks like a skating dress or to purposefully gravitate away from what I would wear on the ice and make it very simple?' Ultimately, I just decided, I know what I feel comfortable in. We went shopping at a lot of really wonderful boutiques in Los Angeles, and actually the dress that I ended up picking was the very first wedding dress I ever tried on. It just felt like exactly what I had envisioned for the wedding. It was whimsical and it felt as though it would fit into the backyard garden setting."

Meryl and Fedor, right before he saw her in her dress for the first time.

Oliver Fly Photography

"The one thing that was actually traditional [about the wedding]," Fedor adds, "was that I didn't get to see the dress or Meryl wearing the dress prior to the wedding day. It was absolutely breathtaking getting to see Meryl walking out of the house. It was just extremely, extremely elegant."

The Reception

"One of the things that we were most struck by was just how surreal it was to have so many of the people that we love most from different parts of our lives together in one setting," says Meryl.

Along with their families, the happy couple were joined for the celebration by friends from school as well as colleagues from the skating world including Brian Boitano, Kristi Yamaguchi, Madison Chock, Evan Bates, and Meryl's partner on the ice, Charlie White and his wife, Tanith Belbin White.

"We were really emotional and overwhelmed by just what a once in a lifetime experience that was;, that collection of people who meant so much to us," says Meryl.

To maximize their time with their guests, the couple chose to extend the festivities with a pool party at the venue on the day after the wedding as well as an extended wedding week with their nearest and dearest.

Meryl changed into comfortable dancing shoes for the reception.

"It was a really nice way to connect with everybody in a very informal way," says Meryl. "Weddings go by so quickly, especially when it's just the wedding itself. We stayed in the house for a little under a week. Getting to experience the wedding weekend and then continue this celebration and spend time with our closest family was really special. We didn't want it to fly by, we really wanted to try to purposefully be present and take in as much as we could."

Photographs by Oliver Fly Photography; Event Planning by Matthew Robbins Design; Venue: Le Mas des Poiriers; Cake by Made In Cake; Catering by Brunet Frères Traiteur; Styling by Cynthia Cook Smith; Makeup by Danielle Vincent

Lauren Hubbard

Writer Lauren Hubbard is a freelance writer and Town & Country contributor who covers beauty, shopping, entertainment, travel, home decor, wine, and cocktails.

#Meryl Davis #Fedor Andreev #Meryl and Fedor's wedding

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marshmallow-phd · 5 years

Text

Memories Past

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Kris x Reader

Summary: The last thing Kris wanted was to move on. He was perfectly content wallowing in his misery while pretending everything was okay. But when you come walking into his shop with a broken down car, he realizes the thing he’d been avoiding the most just might be the cure he always needed. He just couldn’t believe that it’d been you all along. Kris had been your best friend when you were kids before he’d moved away without a word of goodbye. Now nearly fifteen years later, you run into him again by pure coincidence. The memories come rushing back to you, stirring something inside. A childhood crush shouldn’t upend your picture perfect life, but sometimes, destiny has other things in mind…

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I Final

Standing just off to the side of the gate exit, you waited with nervous anticipation. Huan’s flight had just landed about ten minutes ago and now you were searching the crowd of people spilling out of the mouth of the exit that lead back to the other half of the airport where the planes deposited their cargo. The feeling that was churning in your stomach wasn’t one of excitement or happiness. You couldn’t quite pin down what emotions it was made of and that was creating a small twinge of fear alongside it.

If relief was the next emotion you were hoping to feel as soon as you saw Huan’s face, you were sadly disappointed. While your fiancé’s grin was bright, if a little tired from the flight, your own smile was small and forced. As you could feel the uncertainty behind it, you were sure Huan could tell that something was wrong. When he hugged you, you put in just enough effort to return it, but nothing more.

“Bad week?” Huan asked as the two of you walked towards the parking garage.

You shrugged. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“I’m sorry.” The little chuckle that was attached to the sympathetic apology rubbed you the wrong way. Huan wasn’t supposed to laugh at your sour mood. He was supposed to make it better or at least be sympathetic. “Listen, I’m here now, so we can just enjoy the rest of the evening, okay? I’ll even drive.”

Normally, you would have argued with Huan, saying he would be tired from his flight and you were perfectly capable of driving home. But this time, you let him take the keys, popping the trunk once you reached your car to put the suitcase away, and slide into the driver’s seat while you took the other side.

You didn’t hold his hand like you used to when Huan drove. From the way he was whistling and humming along with the radio, it didn’t seem like he’d really noticed anyway. In your mind, another pair of hands were mocking you, making you wish that it was him behind the wheel instead. Those long, labor-hardened fingers were somehow more appealing than the soft, perfectly groomed and well-kept hands that were currently operating the vehicle.

It was quiet between the two of you as you followed Huan up the steps to your home. He immediately went to drop the suitcase off in your bedroom as you went to the fridge.

“Don’t worry about dinner,” Huan insisted. “I’ll just make something for myself real quick. You’ve had a long day at school.”

Nodding, you sat down at the table and opened up your laptop while he threw a sandwich together on a plate, filling the other half with chips before sitting down across from you.

The whole time he was eating, you sat there in silence, staring at your computer screen.

On Sunday, to try and get your mind back on the right track, you brought up the wedding website you’d made last year soon after Huan proposed. It’d been left untouched since then. You’d wanted to give yourself until the end of your last undergrad semester to start working on wedding planning so you could give it more of your attention. But then Huan got his new job and between the move and Huan’s lack of interest whenever you brought up it up, you’d just let it sit and collect imaginary dust.

Yesterday, though, you gave in and started making “save the dates” with the few engagement pictures you’d managed to have taken before life became too hectic. Considering you weren’t the most artistic person, they were simple, a picture of you and Huan smiling at each other, your names written in fancy script with the date of the wedding left blank.

“Hey, Huan?” You finally got the nerve to speak up just as he stood up from the table was headed for the sink with his empty plate.

“Yeah?” He stopped right next you and you shifted the computer so he could see the screen.

“What do you think about these?” you asked.

Huan stared at the screen for a minute or two, eyebrows knitted together as if he were solving a math problem rather than looking at simple wedding invites.

“They’re pretty,” he finally commented. “What are they?”

You bit back the snappy answer you wanted to give. “They’re save-the-dates. I figured now that we’re settled in, we could start back up on the wedding planning?”

“Aw, honey, I’m sorry,” Huan sighed. “Things are really picking up at work so I might be going out of town more frequently. How about we start talking about dates and venues closer to Christmas?”

The fact that you weren’t entirely surprised didn’t even phase you. Plastering on a very fake smile, you said, “Okay. That’s fine. I mostly did this out of boredom. I needed a distraction from my paper. I’m glad you like them, though.”

Huan just hummed, kissing you on the top of the head before disappearing back into the bedroom. You heard the TV flip on as you sat back in your chair. The happy and in love picture of the two of you now just seemed to be mockery now.

A little harder than you meant to, you slammed your laptop shut. Poor thing didn’t deserve your wrath, but the real person you wanted to punch wasn’t in the vicinity.

This was all Kris’ fault. If he would just keep his distance, if he would stop filling your head with the possibilities of him, then you wouldn’t be overthinking every little thing that Huan did.

Glancing over at the bedroom to make sure Huan wouldn’t sneak up on you, you slowly opened your laptop back up. Hidden in a zipped folder on your desk top, you pulled up the second version of the invites that you had made. Just staring at them, you were smiling.

Your mother had been so ecstatic when you called her. Sunday afternoon phone calls were nothing new between you two, but her voice raised in pitch and you could hear her rummaging around in the background once you told her that you’d ran into Kris and had been getting to know him again. She wanted to know everything that you’d learned about Kris since he’d moved away and if you could invite him to come with you when you came to visit next. It was like Huan didn’t exist for her anymore.

Granted, your mother didn’t like the fact that Huan had kept putting off the wedding. She was a planner and you were her only daughter. She wanted the joy of helping you put everything together and, of course, she wanted you to be happy.

When she’d first asked you about how things were going and listened to you talk, she could tell right away that something was wrong no matter how many times you told her you were fine.

“You just don’t sound as happy as you used to, sweetheart,” your mother insisted. “Maybe moving there wasn’t the best idea after all.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to agree with her nor could you really argue. By conclusion, you decided to change the subject by mentioning Kris, sending your mother on her frantic search for whatever she was looking for as she went on and on about how handsome Kris must look now and how he’d must have grown up into such a perfect gentleman. You hated how much you agreed with her.

An hour or so after you hung up with your mother, a text came from her telling you to open your email. Somehow, she’d managed to track down nearly every picture taken during your five year friendship with Kris before he upped and disappeared.

So many of them depicted the two of you laughing and playing in the yard or at the playground. One that made you laugh particularly hard was at his eighth birthday. You’d managed to shove his whole face into the cake, covering him in blue and white frosting. Kris was scowling at the camera while you beamed a toothy grin, very proud of what you’d accomplished.

It was payback for your seventh birthday where Kris has “dyed” your hair purple from your own cake’s frosting. There had been no permanent discoloration of your hair, but your mother did have to scrub at your scalp to get all the frosting out. It was only fair that Kris received the same treatment.

With these newly found memories breaking through to the surface, you found you couldn’t help yourself when you uploaded your favorite photos to the wedding website. For a while, you just played around with the pictures, messing with the filters and cute little cut outs. Most of them, you deleted as soon as you were done, but there was one you just couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of.

It was a simple picture, you and Kris were grinning at the camera, each of you with an arm around the other’s shoulders and heads leaning against each other. The picture was so simple, so innocent. White, cursive words danced across the top of announcing the make believe wedding between you and Kris. Staring at that simple little announcement felt so right.

Shaking your head, you closed your laptop one more time before shuffling over to the couch in the living room to turn on the TV. It should bother you that you weren’t in the same room with Huan watching a show together after he’d been gone a week.

But it didn’t.

Now, who was to blame for that?

“Why is that men are the ones who propose, but when the time comes, they don’t actually want to get married?”

You hadn’t meant to start venting to Jiyeon. The conversation had started out fairly average and normal. You’d sat down across from her in the student center with your tray of food and asked her how her day had been. Once she was done, she’d simply returned the courtesy, taking it a bit farther and asking how last night went with picking up Huan. Then your rant started.

Jiyeon blinked a few times, the corners of her mouth turned down deep. “He just… dismissed your hard work like that?”

“Yeah,” you huffed. Alright, it didn’t take you that long to make the stupid save-the-dates, but you’d still put a lot of effort into them.

“I would kill Minseok if he ever did that to me,” Jiyeon grumbled. Softening a bit, she gave you a look of pity. “Have you tried talking to him about maybe why he seems to be getting cold feet?”

You lifted and dropped your shoulders lazily. “Kind of. Every time I bring it up, he has an excuse ready: work. And I can’t argue with that because most of the time, he’s working pretty much ten hour days and even bringing some of it home with him.”

With her right index finger, Jiyeon tapped on the table thoughtfully. “Are you upset because he keeps putting off the wedding? Or is it something else?”

“What do you mean?” you asked cautiously. Her second question made you nervous, though you couldn’t explain why.

“Well,” Jiyeon shrugged, “for a while, it’s been kind of sounding like the spark that once held you two together might be gone now. You sound like your pushing the wedding because of the fact that the two of you are still engaged rather than because you want to spend the rest of your life with Huan.”

“But I love him,” you insisted. And that part was still true. You did.

“There’s a lot of different forms of love,” she reminded you. “It’s highly possible to still love him but not be in love with him. The kind that would make you want to be with him when you’re old and gray.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words never formed. Just a few months ago, you would have been able to sit in that seat and describe your life with Huan for the next forty years in detail. Everything from your first house to your kids’ first day of school to rocking on the porch in your old age. But now, as you tried to reform those pictures in your head, nothing would materialize. That future had somehow disappeared.

“Is there-“Jiyeon took a deep breath, readying herself for whatever question she was about to let loose. “Is there any chance that maybe you might have feelings for someone else?”

“W-what are you talking about?” Your heart jumped into your throat from beating so fast. Every hair on your arm and the back of your neck was sticking up.

Jiyeon gave you a sympathetic smile. “Its okay, (y/n). If you do, that doesn’t make you a bad person. It happens more than you’d think. Just because you said yes last year doesn’t mean you can’t turn around and say no. It’s possible to fall in love with somebody else.”

“But you can’t just dump the current person because someone else catches your eye or says something nice to you,” you argued. “When does it stop?”

Jiyeon shook her head. “There’s a difference between always keeping an eye out for something better to come along and naturally falling for that new person who landed in your life.”

Throwing your hands up in the air, you gave up. Because she was right. You never looked for someone to come snatch you away from Huan. But something happened in that garage that day you found Kris again. Maybe… maybe it was something that you couldn’t quite explain.

Your conversation with Jiyeon was still reeling in your mind all the way until you were getting ready for bed. Huan had worked late again, leaving you alone for the evening. The two of you had a vague conversation when he came home about each of your days and the coming week, but not much else.

As you shuffled under the covers, Huan had told you that he was getting off early the next day and that the two of you should grab dinner out together. You mumbled a reply agreeing to the date. When you were laying down, back facing Huan and eyes closed, you felt a hand rest on your exposed elbow.

Huan started to kiss your neck, his hand sliding down your arm until it rested on your waist. It didn’t take a genius to understand what he was getting at.

You shoved your face deeper into the pillow, groaning. “Not tonight.”

He sighed. “Okay.” Kissing your cheek, he shuffled back to his side of the bed. “I love you.”

“Hm. Love you, too.”

All day at school, you felt a little guilty. Not because of last night, but because of how you didn’t want to go to dinner tonight. You were fairly certain on what you needed to do. You just dreaded having the actual conversation.

Huan picked you up after class, as chipper and clueless as ever. He’d insisted on driving you to the university this morning even though it wasn’t exactly on his way to the office. You didn’t fight it much, but it irritated you.

That time in the morning on your way to school was your alone time, where you could be with your thoughts. Sometimes that meant just letting it wander or maybe calming yourself down before a big presentation or even trying to figure out your own life while your favorite music provided background noise. And this morning was definitely one where you needed to get your mind straight. But with Huan driving, that wasn’t going to happen.

Huan liked to listen to talk radio. In your car, he kept it on the music stations, but in his it was strictly talk radio. That never really bothered you before. However this drive was different. Huan talked over the DJ, chatting about work while you barely managed to hum in response. It was like a haven when he dropped you off near the courtyard. Right where Kris had been waiting for you barely a week ago.

You mumbled a goodbye before nearly jumping out of the car.

“Hey, (y/n)!”

Shifting your facial muscles to make it give a half-hearted smile, you ducked back down to look at Huan through the still open car door. “Yeah?”

“I love you,” he said.

Those three little words. How could they no longer have the same feeling behind them that they once held?

Nodding, you replied. “Me, too.”

For the rest of the day, you couldn’t calm your limbs that were constantly fidgeting or bouncing in every attempt to get rid of the pent up nervous energy. You knew your heart wasn’t in it anymore, but that didn’t mean you wanted to break Huan’s.

You were still quiet on the way to the restaurant, staring out the window. If Huan noticed your lack of enthusiasm, he didn’t comment on it.

This time around, it wasn’t a fancy, five-star restaurant that Huan parked out in front of. It was just a typical family chain restaurant with generic food that was parading around as something more.

The two of you made it all the way to desert with no big issues, mostly because you let Huan talk. You just needed the right time to say it and you felt like that time had finally come. Now you just needed your bravery to stay with you.

“Huan, I have something to say-”

“Wait.”

He took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your knuckles. You bit down on your bottom lip, remembering when that gesture used to give you butterflies. Now? Nothing.

“(y/n),” he sighed, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said on Monday and I’ve realized that I’ve been… not exactly enthusiastic about the wedding planning. I’ve just been thinking so much about the long run – about after we say I do – that I hadn’t realized how much that event could mean to you.”

For the first time in a while, you felt something for Huan. It wasn’t the intensity that you used to feel, but you felt warm, you felt lighter at the sense that he actually cared. Maybe you just needed reassurance and you had jumped the gun a little bit.

Huan fished around in his jacket pocket until he pulled out a little black velvet box. “Here. This is for you.”

With tentative fingers, you took the box and lifted the lid.

It was an engagement ring. Bigger and flashier than the one that currently donned your left index finger. It was something that you would never have picked out in a million years, but you could let that go as it was meant to symbolize more.

“So, does this mean we can start planning?” you asked hopefully. “Because I have a list of venues that would be perfect and I know a photographer and-”

Huan actually looked taken back. “Oh, uh, no. I’m sorry, (y/n). I just wanted to get you the ring that you deserved. My higher ups have said that I’ll be going on more trips in the coming months so I won’t be around much to help.”

“My mother can help me,” you argued softly, keeping your eyes down on the table. How could you actually let yourself cling to a small sliver of hope when you’d already made up your mind? It just made this crash hurt even more.

“It’s just a few more months,” Huan insisted. “Just wait until after Christmas.”

“Now it’s after Christmas?” You shook your head as you stood up from the table. “I need some air.”

“(y/n), wait!”

You didn’t even slow down as you power walked to the front entrance, shuffling past the patrons that were waiting to be seated. Huan didn’t come after you and for that you were relieved. You didn’t know what to do or say at this moment. You were at your breaking point.

How could he say closer to Christmas one day and then after the next? How long would he continue to push out the date?

You’d walked several blocks before you decided to rest, leaning on your forearms up against a wooden railing that separated the risen walk way you were on from the other shops down below. Closing your eyes, you took deep breathes. You couldn’t go on like this. You were being torn in two and it was absolute torture.

“(y/n)?”

You stiffened. How the hell did he find you?

Straightening up, you turned to face him. Kris came running up the steps to you, concern painted all over his face. Behind him was the group that he was with. To your surprise – and horror – Minseok and Jiyeon were among the small crowd Kris had broken away from. Was there anyone in this town that he didn’t know?

“Are you okay?” Kris asked, a little winded from his jog up the wooden stairs.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled with a set jaw. “Are you following me now?”

Kris scoffed. “No. I just happened to be out with my friends. Is that a crime?”

Folding your arms, you mumbled, “No. I guess not.”

“Hey,” he gently lifted your chin for you to look at him. “What’s going on?”

You turned away from him, trying to collect the words you wanted to form.

“Why?” ended up being your reply.

Kris frowned, confused. “What?”

“Why are you always around?” you demanded. Not exactly the real question that you wanted to ask, but it was close. “Why do you keep popping out of nowhere?”

“Listen, tonight was just a coincidence,” Kris insisted. “Trust me, this time I did not intentionally seek you out.”

Okay. Fine. That made one time. “But every other time, you have. Why? Why does it feel like you want something more?”

Instead of answering right away, Kris took your hand and placed it against his chest. Even through his shirt you could feel his heart thumping against his rib cage. It was beating erratically- exactly how yours did when you were near him.

“This is how I feel every time that you’re around me,” he confessed. “It’s been that way since I first saw you again in my shop. And when I’m away from you, I can’t function. All I want to do is see you again. You’ve grown into this amazing person, (y/n). And I just want to be with you.”

Taking your hand back, you shook your head. You hated how you were unable to verbalize anything that was currently racing through your head.

“Please,” Kris begged. “Give me a chance.”

This wasn’t what you expected at all. Yes, you’d concluded that you just couldn’t be with Huan anymore, but you hadn’t thought about the next step. And Kris was already five ahead of you. You were still shaking your head, more violently this time. “Huan-”

“You said it yourself that you’re in love with me.”

Your eyes grew wide. “W-what are you talking about?”

Kris smirked. “That night I came to pick you from the bar? You told me yourself. You complained about me leaving as a kid and that at first it was just a silly crush, but now that you’re in love with me. It’s the same with me.”

“I didn’t mean it.” Yes, you did. Every word.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Kris wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in closer to him with a firm yank until your chest was up against his. Kris’s voice was barely above a whisper when he said, “I know you feel this, too.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you just gave in. It was too strong to fight it and this embrace that was holding you together felt so right, so safe… so perfect. You whispered, “Why can’t I get you out of my head?”

With a calloused hand, Kris cupped your cheek, caressing your skin and making you open your eyes again. He was staring at you with such an intensity that you shrank back a little. Never had you been looked at that way. His wild, earthy eyes were trained on you, reflecting everything that that was bubbling up inside you and promising a future that would always feel like this.

“Fate’s cruel that way,” Kris replied under his breath.

Before you could ask what he meant by that, he leaned in, closing the minute distance left between you.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #exo supernatural au #exo scenarios #exo series #kris wu x reader #kris wu #wu yifan #Memories Past #untamed wolf universe

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breeeliss · 5 years

Note

*bursts into your inbox* WEDDING!!! We could all use a nice allurance wedding snippet 💖💙

//allurance

“lance what are human weddings like?”

he was just on the edge of sleep when allura asked, the hand stroking his hair having stopped a while ago when his breathing deepened. but her whispered question pulled him awake as he tightened the arm around her waist. “mmwha was tha’?”

“weddings,” allura giggled. “tell me about weddings.”

lance craned his neck to stare at the clock on his bedside table. “now? naked in bed at two in the morning?”

allura walked her fingers across his pectorals. “i can’t sleep. i’m still trembling from earlier.”

“really? that good, huh?”

she gently smacked his shoulder as his whole body shook with laughter. “oh shut up. i’m not the one who fell asleep right afterwards. tired you out, did i?”

“never. i’ll always have enough energy for you. and i did not fall asleep, i was just catching my breath. i’m a healthy virile young man, thank you very much.”

allura snorted. “you’re a pussycat, lance. scratch behind your ears just the right way and you’ll melt. you’re very easy to please.”

“how dare. so rude.”

she kissed him on the tip of his nose before settling in between his legs and resting her chin on his chest. “you’re avoiding my question.”

“i mean there are a lot of different types of human weddings. culturally different, you know? you have to be more specific.”

“alright, cuban weddings then.”

“are you doing research for anything i should know about?”

allura nibbled on her lip. “nothing specific, i just…well i don’t know. i just got to thinking that when we got married – ”

“when?” lance grinned. “not ‘if’?”

she averted her gaze, but not before he pressed two quick kisses to her embarrassed smile. “you know what i mean! stop teasing.”

“i’m not teasing. it just makes me happy hearing you talk about our wedding as a thing that’ll definitely happen as opposed to something that might happen.”

“well of course. obviously not now, but i like the thought of us eventually doing it. it feels like such a natural next breath for the two of us. but we’re talking a multispecies wedding, so some thought should be put into it. it’s never too early for that.”

lance smiled. “well i’ve been thinking about our wedding since the day you agreed to go out with me.”

allura winked. “of course you have. now come on! weddings!”

“be more specific! what do you want to know?”

“how do engagements work? do you exchange tokens?”

lance nodded and ran finger down her left ring finger. “we do rings. so during a proposal you would kneel in front of the person you’re proposing to, present them the ring, and hope they say yes. it’s supposed to be a really spontaneous thing. the point is to surprise the person you’re proposing to. but that’s just the engagement ring. during a wedding ceremony, you both exchange weddings bands on top of that.”

allura held her left hand out in front of her. “we don’t exchange anything physical. we do tattoos.”

“like permanent ones?”

“yes. so you have to actually plan a proposal and tell the person in advance. it definitely isn’t spontaneous. you have to agree on a mark that you feel represents your relationship. some people choose old altean symbols, some people do pictures, some do sayings or words, it all depends. each of you tattoo half that mark in the inside of your right wrists to complete the engagement ceremony. then during the wedding ceremony, you complete each other’s marks in front of witnesses.”

lance’s brows went up. “that’s intense. what happens if you separate?”

“we’re encouraged to marry for life, but if a separation happens you just get the marks removed. it’s a bit of a laborious process though.”

lance curled a piece of allura’s hair around his finger. “i actually like that more than the ring. it’s more personal and doesn’t involve shelling out a ridiculous amount of money. you ever put any thought into what you’d want your mark to be?”

“not really. marriage was never on my mind until now. i’ve always thought having a picture as an engagement mark and having a quote being the finishing touch during a wedding ceremony would be nice. it’d sort of leave some anticipation leading up to the actual marriage. but who knows?”

“what are altean wedding ceremonies like?” lance asked.

“well, both the bride and the groom wear blue to symbolize their unending loyalty to each other. they stand before a room of witnesses and a wedding officiant and recite their vows to one another. then the tattooing ceremony. after that it’s different depending on what part of altea you’re from. i’m from the south of the main continent so there we do the hourglass ceremony.”

“and what’s that?”

allura took lance’s hand and gently laid hers on top of his. “so we both pour different colored vials of sand into an empty hourglass and let it run all the way to the bottom. the point is that no matter how many times the sand runs out, the grains will never be separated. it’s meant to show how your love isn’t contained within the bounds of time. it’s limitless. as all love should be.”

lance closed his fingers around her hand and pressed kisses to the knuckles. “that’s gorgeous. i don’t think we do anything nearly that intimate.”

“are human ceremonies different?”

lance squinted at the ceiling and started tracing shapes on her bare back. “well, brides wear white dresses and the grooms wear black tuxes. ah, that’s formal wear for men,” he explained when allura tilted her head. “you typically have a wedding party filled with friends and family that are there for you during the ceremony. the groom stands at the front with the wedding officiant and waits for the bride to enter, usually with her father, brother, or some other important male figure. then when the ceremony starts, the bride and groom recite their vows, exchange weddings rings, kiss, and then that’s it.”

“why white and black for the bride and groom?”

“brides used to wear white to symbolize their virginity, but i think it’s just done for tradition nowadays. definitely not a requirement.”

allura wrinkled her nose. “that’s so distasteful!”

“i mean the reason fathers typically walk their brides down the aisle is because it’s meant to symbolize giving their daughters away. because daughters used to be the property of their fathers up until they got married and became the property of their husbands.”

“lance that’s positively primitive and completely sexist. you do that for tradition’s sake?”

“i mean not everyone does. my family tends to be pretty traditional about that sort of thing. but i also had a cousin who walked herself down the aisle and wore a champagne dress. you can pretty much do whatever you want for your wedding. what matters is the ceremony part. you know, the vows and stuff. your promises to each other in life and in death. everything else is just fluff.”

“i do like that we have that in common,” she conceded. “preparing your own vows of commitment to each other.”

“look at that, we decided on one thing,” lance laughed. “i like the idea of the tattoos and the hourglass ceremony. we should do that. that’s part of your culture and i want to celebrate that with you. i’ll probably still get you a ring though. i’ve been dreaming of buying a girl her engagement ring since i was a kid.”

allura blushed. “i mean i wouldn’t complain about that. i also don’t mind you wearing human formal wear. but i’d love to at least wear a blue dress.”

“of course! you in a blue wedding dress would be damn stunning.”

allura perked up. “ooh! do you celebrate afterwards? what does that look like?”

lance cackled. “oh god, it’s like one huge party. we’re cuban so we invite as many people as physically possible. there’s always a crap ton of cuban food and a huge wedding cake. lots of music and drinking and dancing. you always have one aunt from somewhere that starts the rueda at weddings. we also do this really fun thing where any man who gets to dance with the bride has to pin money to her dress to help with wedding expenses. oh, and they go until super late too and everyone always goes home drunk.”

“is a rueda a kind of dance?”

“yeah, it’s basically a form of salsa. sorry, if you’re gonna marry me, you need to learn salsa. that’s a requirement.”

“alright, fair enough,” allura said. “but then you have to learn altean ballroom dancing.”

“only if you teach me.”

“oh no, i don’t know how the male parts of the dance work. you should get coran to teach you.”

lance frowned. “what? why? if i’m teaching you salsa why does coran have to each me altean ballroom?”

“because i don’t know how to lead and you’d have to be taught how to lead. i only know how to dance the girl parts.”

“aw, allura! that totally sucks! you have to teach me otherwise it won’t be any fun. coran is probably gonna be so extra about it.”

“i mean true but at least you’ll be in good hands. and i’ll be on the sidelines cheering you on and staying very far away from you both!”

lance dig his fingers into allura’s sides and tickled her until she started laughing into the crook of his neck. “you’re the worst.”

she kissed his neck and whispered against the shell of his ear. “you love me.”

“so much it hurts,” he agreed.

allura relaxed against him, staring out at the windows that they’d left open to let in the evening summer breeze. “we’re disgustingly compatible, that was far too easy. we have to argue about something. what cake flavors do you want?”

“it’d have to be earth flavors, so whichever one you wanted.”

“color scheme?”

“up to you.”

“party favors for guests?”

“you can pick.”

allura flicked him on the nose and smiled through her complaint. “lance stop deferring to me!”

“what?” he chuckled. “i don’t care what our wedding looks like so long as you’re the one i’m marrying. you know that.”

allura hid behind her hair. “stop being adorable, i’m trying to plan a wedding.”

“i’m not impeding you from doing that! i’m serious, have full reign. i’ll taste and look at every suggestion you come up with, but we can do whatever you want. start writing things down so we don’t forget and we’ll take it a step at a time.”

“so….we’re really planning this?”

lance shrugged with a dopey smile on his face. “i mean doesn’t hurt to be prepared, right?”

allura matched the smile and learned in for another kiss, this one lingering and lasting long enough to warm her body all the way down to her toes. “right you are.”

lance sighed against her lips. “i feel like i’m dreaming.”

“hold onto that feeling while you still can. wedding planning will quickly turn into a nightmare.”

“no, learning ballroom dancing from coran will be a nightmare.”

“you’re doing it lance.”

“i really think you could teach me if you just tried – ”

“lance i’m not doing it!”

“please?”

“i’m telling coran you have no faith in him.”

“feel free, i stand by my choice, i want you teaching me!”

“i don’t know how, i’m sorry!”

“allura, come on!”

#legitallurance #allurance #allura #lance #voltron #vld #voltron fanfiction #allurance fanfiction #my writing #ask #vixensheart

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onemilliongoldstars · 6 years

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a crown seldom enjoyed- chapter six

To maintain the fragile peace between north and south, Clarke of House Tyrell is sent to live in Winterfell as an act of faith between the two kingdoms. There, she is put under the protection of the first queen in the north, Queen Lexa of House Stark, Daughter of Wolves. A woman draped in steel and silver, wolves at her heels and rumoured to be a manifestation of the fury of the old gods; Clarke refuses to be awed be her quiet violence and cold smile. Instead of fostering unity, the meeting of the wolf and the rose lights a spark that spreads through the rest of Westeros, threatening to burn it to the ground.

6/25

clexa game of thrones au

read on ao3

Book One: Chapter 6

Lexa wakes to pain. The wound in her side is deep enough to throb to every heart beat and she lies for a moment, staring at the darkened canopy above her bed and breathing slowly in and out. This sort of pain is not unfamiliar to her; several years in the battlefield has given her plenty of scars to tell stories about, but it has been quite some time since she last received one. The sensation makes her feel powerless and utterly vulnerable, and her fingers inch under her pillow to find the cold touch of the dagger she keeps there. She is allowed only these few moments of quiet in her dark, painful world, before a hitching of her breath startles her handmaiden minder into wakefulness.

Cara hurries to her side, fussing over her anxiously, and Lexa tries to give her a weary smile, which she does not return. The girl fetches Nyko, Winterfell’s healer, who appears so quickly that Lexa fears he had been sleeping in the corridor, close at hand. The man is kindly and quiet, but firm. She had been administered milk of the poppy the day before, and despite sleeping until first light this morning she still feels tired. Nyko gives her another, smaller dose, and inspects her wound despite her protests. What he finds satisfies him.

“There is no sign of infection and the bleeding has nearly stopped.” He tells her, in his deep voice, and Lexa tries to get her swimming head to focus on his words. Nyko can see through her façade, and he laughs, touching at her shoulder in an attempt to keep her from rising. “Bed rest for at least three days.” He instructs her, firmly, and Lexa rolls her eyes, but nods her assent.

Confined to her bed, she is unable to escape the fury of both Titus and Anya, who enter her chamber as soon as Nyko deems her well enough. Anya paces and threatens and curses the soldier whose hand she put her sword in. She is still without her cloak and Lexa makes a mental note to have another one made for her. It is strange to see her without it. For once, Titus agrees with her, and together they are halfway to planning the man’s death before Lexa can stop them. She doesn’t dare to say that she was distracted by the sight of a certain golden haired visitor talking with her guard and a stranger Lexa didn’t recognise. It takes almost an hour of convincing to make them leave, and when she eventually pleads that her injury is paining her, Anya casts her s suspicious glance as she walks out of the door.

Aden comes to sit with her throughout the day, and his company is much kinder to her spirit than her angry advisors. She sits up in bed and talks him through her correspondence, explaining their relationship to the Iron Bank and the yield needed on the early spring crops to make up for the long winter. He concentrates for some time, but when the sun has crested in the sky she can see that his eyes dart to the window and knows that she has kept him in her dark rooms for too long.

Alone for the afternoon, she sleeps for fleeting moments, and picks at the abundance of dishes sent up to her from the kitchen. Sweet milk and thinly sliced apples, porridge mixed with honey and dates and a soft, sweet sponge stack up along her bed, interspersed with the letters and parchments, but she has little appetite for it. The direwolves lie about her floor. They are often to be found together when she is injured, and they flop about the room, grooming one another and dozing. Liberty rests her head on the bed where Lexa can stroke it and she offers bites of her food to Patience and Faith when they whine. When the kitchen girl appears for the fifth time to deposit a light chicken broth, she tuts quietly at the food leftover and Lexa is sure that she will report her to Leanna.

As the kitchen girl leaves, Cara appears at her bed chamber door, shifting unhappily from foot to foot and Lexa gestures for her to speak.

“Lady Clarke is in your solar, my queen. She’s asking to see you.”

“Oh,” Lexa glances down at herself, sat in her great bed with food and dogs and books around her, and flushes. “I suppose-”

“I did tell her you were not to be moved, your majesty.” Cara grumbles, “And that it wouldn’t do to have you receive her in your chamber.”

“It’ll be fine, Cara,” Lexa soothes her handmaiden and gestures to the bed. “If you could just…”

“Of course,” Cara steps around the direwolves as if they were pups, well used to their presence, and even dares to shoo Liberty off the bed. The sandy beast growls lowly, but scampers off the bed at Cara’s firm expression. She collects all of the platters and dishes and puts them to one side as Lexa piles together her parchments and books. After a moment of hesitation, Cara reaches behind her to help readjust her pillows, until she can sit up straight and pull her long braid over one shoulder. She is already wearing a heavy, fur lined robe to cover her decency, but Cara smooths the bed covers out and adds a grey fur on top.

“Alright,” Lexa says at last, “See her in.”

Lady Clarke enters hesitantly at Cara’s side. Her golden hair falls in waves about her shoulders, braided in a softer pattern than Lexa has seen it in before, and the blue velvet of her dress, with it’s long sleeves and golden trim, make her eyes seem as deep as the sapphire pendant around her neck. She pauses in the doorway, her eyes taking in every inch of the room, before landing on Lexa, sat calm and serene in her large bed.

“Lady Clarke,” She says, with as much dignity as she can offer. “Welcome.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Lady Clarke drops a small curtsey, her eyes flickering over the direwolves nervously. “And thank you for allowing me an audience.”

“Of course,” Lexa bows her head courteously. “What can I do for you?”

Lady Clarke hesitates and then says, slowly, “I actually- just wanted to see how you are.”

“Oh,” Lexa tries desperately to school her expression into something other than shock, but based on the look Cara has on her face she is unsuccessful. “I- I see. Well, please take a seat.” She gestures around the room in general and Lady Clarke’s eyes flicker to one of the many comfortable arm chairs in the corners of the room, before her eyes find the high backed chair at Lexa’s side, which Aden had dragged closer earlier. A flicker of determination passes through the crease in her eyes and the set in her lips, and Lexa tries not to be impressed when she lifts her skirts around her ankles and steps carefully around the direwolves until she can settle into that chair.

Lexa’s eyes move to Cara’s waiting figure and she says. “You can leave us Cara, thank you.”

Cara’s eyes flicker between them, but she gives a curtsey and then Lexa is alone in a room with Clarke of House Tyrell, as she has never been before.

A moment of awkward silence passes between them, before Lexa says, a little haltingly.

“You were good to come, Lady Clarke. I am quite well.”

“So your healer told me.” Clarke’s eyes pass over her body and Lexa feels exposed, despite the many layers covering her. She remembers clearly the feeling of Lady Clarke’s hands on her skin, her eyes so intense and fierce above her. “I wanted to see for myself. I’m rather invested in your recovery.”

“That’s understandable,” Lexa concedes. “I was hoping to have the opportunity to thank you more formally when I am able, but I’d like to thank you-”

“I didn’t come here for thanks,” Clarke cuts through her and a beat of silence, surprised and still, passes between them before Lexa says, softly.

“Regardless, I am thankful. Nyko says you could well have saved my life.”

Clarke snorts at that, “I doubt that, you’re wound isn’t that deep and I’m sure Lady Mormont would have figured out to add pressure.”

“Still, it was you who moved first.” Lexa’s eyes meet hers and in the low afternoon light streaming in from the window, Lady Clarke looks like one of the great stained windows in the septs, soft and glowing. “I remember that.”

“One of the downsides of being so awed is that people don’t know what to do in a crisis, I imagine,” Clarke fixes her with a smile and she laughs, brows creasing when she jars her wound.

“I suppose so. It is a good thing you are not so awed.”

“I knew it would be useful.”

Lexa’s eyes move over her, surveying the southern lady closely and she is serious when she speaks again. “Why did you do it?”

Lady Clarke’s eyes crease, lips parting softly in surprise, “What?”

“I was under the impression that you didn’t like me or my ways.” She keeps her voice steady and even, no accusation. “Why try so hard to help someone you despise?” It is a question afforded to them by their privacy, never would Lexa ask this in front of her court. But here in the quiet of her chambers, she is able to talk freely.

For a moment it seems as though Clarke will not answer, her eyes fixed to the bed coverings, and Lexa almost opens her mouth to excuse her, but then the southern lady speaks.

“Do you really think so little of me that I would let you die just because we disagreed?”

Lexa’s brows crease, her mouth dropping open, “No, of course not.”

“That is what you just asked me, though.” Clarke’s eyes meet hers and the hurt she sees in the twist of her face is almost painful. “I knew that northerners hated southerners but I didn’t think-”

“Lady Clarke,” Her hand reaches out before she even realises it, and her fingers brush across Clarke’s softly. Clarke jolts, surprised, and wide eyes meet hers. “Forgive me, that was not what I meant. I would never question your honour like that, I know that you are a brave and dignified woman.”

Lexa sees her swallow heavily before she speaks. “Thank you.” Her eyes flicker away and Lexa withdraws her hand, suddenly distinctly aware of the contact. “I may not agree with you, your majesty, but I have no wish to see you harmed. You are an honest, kind woman and a good queen to your people.” Her eyes dart back to Lexa and she says, her voice stilted with forced mirth. “Besides, for all I know you are the only person here between Lady Anya and I, and I fear she wants to rip my throat out.”

She laughs again, and hears the soft, husky sound of Clarke’s laughter join hers. “That may be true,” She concedes, “But now that you’ve saved my life, I think Lady Anya will be in your debt.”

“I hope not,” Clarke confesses, still smiling. “I would not know what to do with her gratitude.”

“It is rarely given,” Lexa admits, and smooths down the pelt across her legs. “But you are safe I think, from what I have heard this morning she has focused her attentions on the soldier I trained with.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” Lady Clarke rolls her eyes, and Lexa’s brows shoot up, her lips twitching at the sight of such impertinence.

“Oh really?”

Lady Clarke pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, answering surely. “He was a green recruit, he must have known no better and been desperate to prove himself to his queen. Besides,” She sets the queen with a look quite unlike any Lexa has ever seen, “You were training with Valyrian steel, you both deserved to lose a finger at least.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, “You recognise Valyrian steel?”

“My father’s blade is made of the stuff,” Clarke tells her, and her eyes soften. “I almost lost many fingers to it when I was a child, I know it’s dangerous.” There is a moment of silence between them, Clarke’s eyes hazy with thought. “Have you heard anything from him?” She asks, abruptly, and Lexa blinks, surprised.

“I’m afraid not,” The girl’s face falls at her words, and she attempts to joke. “But I have also heard less from your mother, for which I thank you.”

“Oh,” Clarke smiles again, though it is with exasperated good humour, “You’re welcome, though I now receive three letters from her for every one I return.”

“I’m sure she misses her daughter,” Lexa placates, and Clarke’s brows draw together, but she is saved from answering by Faith’s approaching figure.

Lady Clarke flinches away, just slightly, as the direwolf noses at her leg curiously, and Lexa can see how her body has become stiff and fearful.

“They will not hurt you,” She tells her, quietly, and Clarke startles at the sound.

“I just- they are such queer creatures. So foreign to me.”

“You must have heard stories,” Lexa pats at the bed invitingly, and Liberty resumes her place from earlier, curling up to place her large head on Lexa’s lap. Her tongue pokes from her mouth and her eyes close immediately as Lexa begins scratching between her ears. “But they are not the fearsome creatures you have heard of, not really. Like any animal, if you treat them with respect they will return it.”

Clarke’s eyes flicker down to where Faith looks at her, hopefully and Lexa gestures at the platters on the table beside her bed, within reach.

“Try to feed her, maybe that’s what she wants.”

Clarke reaches out, and takes a piece of juicy venison from off the plate, holding it cautiously out for Faith. The direwolf immediately darts forward, eating it from her fingers and licking off the juice for good measure. It startles a surprised laugh from Clarke’s mouth and when she looks up at Lexa it is with amazement. Lexa can feel an answering smile pulling at her own lips and she nods to the dish. Slowly, Clarke feeds Faith until the plate is empty and the direwolf, seeming to sense it, rumbles a soft gratitude and puts her head into Clarke’s lap.

Clarke stares down at her, looking to Lexa for help and at her instruction, she runs a tentative hand down Faith’s white fur.

“I’m afraid you have no venison left,” She says, quietly and Lexa shakes her head.

“I have enough food left to feed the whole of Winter Town, I’m glad it went to someone who enjoyed it.”

Clarke hums her agreement, and is quiet again, running her hands over Faith’s ears. The direwolf’s tail is wagging softly on the floor, swishing with every movement and the sound is enough to send Lexa to sleep, until Clarke says.

“Thank you… for the lemon cakes.”

“Oh,” Lexa’s face heats at the mention of the treats and when her eyes meet Clarke’s it is with a terrible uncertainty that she has never felt before. What she finds is blue, clear and bright, and she drowns in it. “It was my pleasure.”

---

The queen’s chambers are lit with soft candles and a fire flickering in the hearth when Anya steps in. There are tapestries on many of the walls, thick and woven with earthy tones, and rolled scrolls litter many of the surfaces. She finds the queen sat at her table, a long structure made from dark ironwood and groaning under the weight of the many books and parchments she has piled it with. Lexa is holding a letter, her eyes focused, and she twists a dagger absent mindedly between her fingers as she reads.

“You’ll bleed yourself dry if you’re not careful.” Anya’s voice makes her startle, the dagger falling to the table with a clatter. “Not that you haven’t already tried,” Anya adds, eyes sliding down her body critically. Lexa is still a little pale, but other than her stiff movement there is no sign of the wound she suffered.

“Anya,” Lexa sets down the letter she was reading, smiling at her in welcome. “I’m sure I should have the guards announce you, captain or not.”

“They’re more loyal to me than they are to you.” Anya tells her, with a shrug and when her cousin only smiles, she wanders to the counter where the wine decanter sits, pouring them each a glass before sitting in the chair across from the queen.

Lexa takes the glass, drinking gratefully. “Unfortunately I’m sure that’s true,” She sets her eyes on Anya from across the table and asks, her voice soft. “Should I be worried?”

Anya snorts, and stretches out her legs, crossing them at the ankle. The warmth from the fire soaks into her cold bones and the queen’s wine is especially fine. “You’re safe, I have no desire for the crown.”

“It is taxing at times,” Lexa admits and Anya knows that she would never say such a thing in front of anyone but her or Aden. Lexa taps the pile of letters before her, drawing Anya’s attention back, “Here, Lady Tyrell writes yet again to enquire as to the protection of her daughter.”

“Again?” Anya’s brows tick up in surprise, and she accepts the letter that Lexa holds out for her. Lady Tyrell’s handwriting is spiky and slanted, the ink dripping and smearing as if the letter had been written in some urgency, though Anya knows the woman has sent many similar letters. “You’ve already assigned the girl a constant guard, what more can the woman want?”

“For her daughter to be under lock and key, I expect,” Lexa responds, dryly, eyes flickering over another letter.

“I don’t think your southern rose would like that very much.” Anya rolls her eyes, placing the letter back on the table.

Lexa’s nose wrinkles at the nickname, but she doesn’t comment on it. “She would not. I’m sure the girl is safe enough here, she’s under my protection.”

“Does she really think so lowly of us that a northerner would attempt to murder her daughter? When we only just now have peace?”

“It seems so,” Lexa shakes her head, “No matter, I shall write to her again to tell her that her daughter is in safe hands.” Her lips quirk into a small smile, and she taps another letter with the blade of her dagger, smirking as she speaks. “This letter should amuse you more.”

“Really?” Anya’s voice is dripping with scepticism. “I am not so easily amused by royal musings as you, cousin.”

“Here,” Lexa slides the letter to her, but before Anya can begin to read she continues, “Lord Finn of House Swann writes to me to ask that I please release Lady Clarke from my clutches.”

“Your clutches?” Anya echoes, laughter bubbling in her chest as she reads. “Her ladyship is held so dear in my heart that I fear our separation may cause us both to wane away to nothingness,” She quotes, snorting. “He certainly has a way with words.”

“He seems to think I am the dragon keeping his maiden captive,” Lexa rolls her eyes, taking a sip of the heady, perfumed wine. “Despite the fact that Lady Clarke was sent up here of her own free will.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Anya mutters, and Lexa concedes.

“Her parents then. They could easily have refused the exchange.”

“It is hard to see the truth when blinded by love,” Anya offers, curtly, her lip curling with disdain. “He is a foolish young boy blinded by her beauty.”

“He is distantly in line for the throne,” Lexa admits, “He would not be an awful match for her. Perhaps they will unite when she returns home.”

“If the boy can wait that long,” Anya eyes her over the lip of her goblet and continues, cautiously. “The Tyrells are falling from favour, I hear.”

“You’re listening to palace gossip like Titus now?” Lexa’s voice is light, but there is an undertone of steel to her words.

“No, I don’t have Titus’s chain of whisperers,” Anya rolls her tongue around the words distastefully. “But Titus is anxious and when you won’t listen to him, he talks at me. Pike wields more power in the south, so they say.”

“The master of coin, more power than the Hand?” Lexa scoffs, but Anya continues.

“You and I both know that the titles given to lords are essentially meaningless once they’re on the small council. If Tyrell and the king are both weak men they could easily be swayed by the words of a stronger one, especially a Lannister with command of the most powerful armies on the continent.”

“Thelonious Jaha is not weak for pursuing peace,” Lexa snaps. “And Lord Tyrell is a quiet but strong man.” Her eyes flicker down to her desk, and her voice drops, as if she is speaking only to herself. “Look at his daughter, a weak man would not raise such a child.”

Anya’s eyes glance over the dark, bowed head before her and a flicker of worry forms in her gut, squirrelling away like a rabbit burrowing away for the summer.

“I keep my ear to the ground for news of Tris,” She tells her, quietly, and Lexa’s eyes dart up, softening.

“I understand,” Her words are cut through with pity, and Anya’s stomach turns at the sound of it. She stands abruptly, draining her wine even as Lexa continues to speak. “She is protected in the south, I promise.”

“I am only trying to keep her safe,” Her voice breaks, “And you.” Before Lexa can respond, she gives a stiff bow, suddenly desperate to be out of the dark, stuffy room. “With your leave, your majesty.” She doesn’t wait for Lexa’s answer, turning on her heel and striding from the solar before Lexa can stop her. Outside, the guards eye her strangely and she shoots them a glare so ferocious that she thinks she sees them quiver in their boots.

Her head swims with the queen’s words for the rest of the day, plaguing her. When she sees a shadowy figuring waiting for her at the entrance to the guard’s quarters later that evening, it is with a mixture of relief and exasperation that she takes her firmly by the arm, ignoring her protests, and leads her away with a stony expression. Only once they have stepped into the relative privacy of the tack room, empty and dark but for the moon shining in through the window, does she release the figure’s arm.

The woman grunts, pushing down her hood and eyeing Anya furiously as she rubs at her arm. When she opens her mouth to make her irritation known, Anya cuts through her.

“You know better than to wait for me there.”

“Nobody even looked at me twice until you grabbed me.” The woman argues, fiercely and Anya’s eyes darken.

“This is serious Reyes, no one else can know about this.”

“Why not?” Raven rolls her eyes, “I’m sure everyone from Measter Titus to the queen has secret eyes on Lady Clarke, why not you too?”

Anya takes a menacing step forwards, her voice dropping to a low murmur and she is gratified to see Raven edge a step back. “Our relationship with the south is precarious. If things go wrong, it is my sister who will be beheaded in front of the watching southerners, is that what you want?”

“Of course not,” Raven spits, burning hot with fury like the forge she slaves over.

“Good,” Anya watches the blacksmith with dark eyes, “What do you know?”

“She isn’t dangerous not really.” Raven swallows, eyes flickering to the side anxiously. “Surely you see that, she wouldn’t have saved the queen if she was. She isn’t dangerous, unless you consider arrogance a threat.”

“Arrogance can be dangerous.” Anya answers, “Has she said anything about the south?”

“Nothing of importance. Sometimes she speaks of home.”

“And her correspondence? Does she speak of that?”

“Only that her mother writes too much and her father doesn’t write at all.” Raven grunts.

“Really?” Anya’s brows crease, “Lord Tyrell doesn’t write to her? I’d heard she was favoured by her father.”

“Well, fathers don’t usually make time for their daughters when it doesn’t suit them,” Raven mutters, low and Anya’s eyes flicker over her again with a little more interest.

“Speaking from experience, Reyes?”

Raven’s face draws closed like shutters keeping out a snowstorm, “Doesn’t matter.”

Sensing the girl has no more information forthcoming, Anya pulls a few coins from her purse, offering them out. Raven pauses for a moment, her eyes flickering between Anya and the outstretched coins, before finally snatching them into her hand, her nose wrinkling with disgust. Pushing past her, Raven slips from the tack room with the silence of a ghost and Anya is left in the slither of cold light shining down from the moon above.

---

The queen’s injury means that Clarke is free to dine alone, away from the formal dining chamber in the queen’s quarters. She luxuriates in the opportunity to be away from the prying eyes of the northerners, though since the queen was wounded she finds that she is the interest of many of the small folk in Winter Town. Wherever she goes, she is followed by murmurs and curious looks, and it soon becomes tiresome enough that she requests that Raven be brought to her rooms to dine with her, rather than facing the curiosity of the crowds in the Smoking Log.

In Highgarden she would never dream of inviting a common person to dine with her, where she could be observed and whispered about by her ladies, but in Winterfell she finds she has little to lose. Raven accepts her offer graciously, and though she seems a little out of place at first, the blacksmith’s apprentice soon settles into her usual, raucous joviality. The solar the queen had offered for her use is not nearly so large and grand as her own, but it is close to Clarke’s chambers, a small, circular room with a fire to warm it and rich, light coloured draperies. Several over stuffed armchairs and a futon sit close to the fire, and a table with a top of light marble fills up the rest of the room, surrounded by chairs.

Clarke plucks a sweetbread from the platter in the table, and then pushes the tray to Octavia. The guard eyes it uncomfortably. She has been unsettled and out of place since Raven insist that she sit and dine with them. Calling upon another guard to take her place at the door, she had sunk into a chair and picked at their rich food with reluctant appreciation.

Their meals are quickly eaten, with Raven’s excessive and amusing exclamations punctuating each new course, and when they are done Clarke slides the sweetbreads and dates to one side and calls for more wine, before reaching for her cyvasse board. The checked marble tiles and beautifully engraved pieces had been a gift from her father when she left, and she runs her fingers over the delicate carving of the dragon piece, before explaining the rules to an eager Raven.

The girl is disappointed to learn that the game does not involve monetary gain, but she listens hard and after a few questions and clarifications, she picks up on the rules and strategies of the game easily.

Octavia, on the other hand, has little love for the game. She groans, leaning back in her chair and sipping from her wine as Raven considers her next move.

“You play this all the time in Highgarden?” She asks, then adds, “When there are so many other things to do?”

“My father is a fan of the game,” Clarke explains, “He learnt it from the Dornish in the south, who learnt it from traders from the east. He taught me to play.”

“Willingly?” Octavia clarifies, “Or in the same way I was taught embroidery?”

The words break Raven from her reverie and her eyes light up with mischief. “You were taught embroidery?”

Octavia rolls her eyes, “I wasn’t always a soldier, you know. Septa Ordell taught me before I became a page.”

“You were raised in the castle?” Clarke’s eyes widen in surprise, and she turns to give the soldier her full attention. “Why?”

Octavia half shrugs, and her darkened eyes tell of a story she is not willing to relive. “I had no family,” She says, succinctly, and Clarke knows her guard well enough not to press her any further.

“Did your father also teach you healing, my lady?” Raven asks, casually, but Clarke is suddenly aware of the eyes in the room upon her. As carefully as she can, she shrugs her shoulders, staring down into her wine glass.

“I only know the basics.”

“You know enough to save the queen,” Octavia counters and Clarke swirls her wine around her cup thoughtfully, watching the red liquid leave a trail of dregs behind it.

“Do you know what the most potent weapon someone can wield is?” She asks, at last and her voice is deceptively soft and easy. At their silence, she continues. “Poison.”

The quiet that spreads between them is long and heavy, pooling like blood upon the stone beneath them and she waits, trying to keep her face as impassive as possible.

At last, Octavia speaks, and her voice is dark. “I thought poison was the weapon of cowards.”

“Poison is the weapon of someone who wants to survive,” Carefully, Clarke takes hold of her dragon, moving it a few places across the board so that it directly threatens Raven’s king. “Here, what would you do, Raven?”

Raven’s eyes flicker uncertainly between her and the board, and after a few moments she reaches forward and moves her knight to intercept the dragon.

“Very good,” Clarke praises, “But you have left yourself open to your flank. You weren’t watching my priestess, because she can only move one way, but by combatting the immediate threat you have left yourself vulnerable.” She picks up the carved priestess, with a thread of blood red running through her white marble, and takes Raven’s king. When she looks up, both women are watching her with clouded expressions and she continues, quietly. “Raised in the court of the south, you learn to expect enemies from every corner. Poison is quick and leaves you with no blood on your fingers.”

She takes the priestess piece into her hands, running the pad of her thumb across the engraving. “My grandmother taught me my poisons when I was no older than five summers.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you knew how to heal the queen,” Octavia’s voice is dangerously low and her fingers have edged to the sword in its hilt at her side.

“To understand how poison works, you must have some understanding of the human body.” Clarke shrugs, attempting to appear unaffected. She meets Octavia’s eyes, and continues. “I have no desire to hurt your queen, Octavia. If I did, I would have let her bleed out on the training ground.”

Octavia’s eyes stare into hers for a moment, as if reading her for any deceit, but she must find none because her hand leave the hilt of her sword, and she settled back into her chair.

“But just because I do not swing a sword,” Clarke sets the priestess back onto the board, in the place that Raven’s king had occupied only moments ago. “Does not mean I am helpless.”

---

Her injury heals slowly, and at the insistence of all of her advisors she tries not to strain herself. The routine quickly wears on her, however, and Lexa quickly finds herself impatient and anxious to train again, though no one will dare to fight her in her current state. Her handmaidens accompany her everywhere but her private chambers, in case she should need something, and Anya is often on hand to give her a few strong words to keep her in line. She feels more like a prisoner than a queen, especially when Titus takes the opportunity to have endless meetings of the small council over the most mundane matters.

One night, when she is so thoroughly bored that she feels as if her brain is porridge, she dismisses Titus from her chambers and slips out into the castle corridors before one of her handmaidens can catch up with her. She knows this castle well enough that avoiding her advisors is an easy task, and the godswood provides a haven from the issues that seem to plague her every step.

Behind the tall gates, the world seems to fall away. The air is peaceful and quiet in the muffled way that seems to consume the world when the snow is heavy on the ground. Above her, the canopy of the trees that span for three acres form a skeletal roof, few leaves sprouting leaves in this wintery landscape, despite the arrival of spring. The snow crunches under foot, and she walks until she spots the heart tree, where the old gods of the north reside. The red eyes and mournful mouth of the heart tree stare down upon a figure, and Lexa’s steps falter at the sight of Lady Clarke’s kneeling form. There are flowers, tiny and white and delicate, blooming through the snow and she is sat on the grass in nothing more than a nightgown and thin blanket, threading the flowers through each other.

She hesitates, playing uncertainly with the edge of the thick fur cape around her shoulders. The weight of the silver circlet around her head feels heavier than usual, the metal cold against her skin as she watches Lady Clarke bow forwards and collect a few more of the flowers, playing with them in her lap, delicate curls escaping from the rough braid running down her back to hang around her neck and cheeks.

The burst of wind through the clearing makes her shiver, pulling her cloak closer and she sees Clarke’s shoulder curl forwards, drawing her body in tighter against the cold. Her feet carry her closer before she can stop herself and her boots are heavy against the frozen grass, drawing the girl’s head up to stare at her, blue eyes wide and startled. Clarke rushes to her feet, gathering her blanket closer around her shoulders and self consciously tucking the strands of hair behind her ears.

“Lady Clarke,” Lexa pauses a few steps away, observing the girl carefully. “You should really be more careful. It’s almost midnight, the cold is dangerous at times like this.”

“Your majesty,” Clarke tongue flickers out, licking at cold chapped lips. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“No?” Lexa’s brows furrow and she inches closer across the snow, “Is there anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable? Is it the cold?”

“Not at all,” Clarke hurries to correct her, eyes wandering to the surrounding trees, “I was simply restless… and I can see the godswood from my window.” She smiles sheepishly, “I managed to avoid my guard.”

“I can see that,” She hesitates for a beat, then adds, conspiratorially. “I have managed to avoid my advisors.”

Clarke’s eyes widen in surprise and then her lips lift into a wide smile and she lets out a soft, golden laugh at the words. “A difficult task, I can imagine.”

“Almost impossible,” Lexa bows her head to hide her smile.

“And yet here you are.”

“Here we are,” Lexa looks back to where Clarke was sitting, “were you praying my lady? I did not mean to disturb you.”

“No,” Clarke shakes her head and a curl escapes back in front of her face again. “No, I pray in the sept. I… would not know how to pray here, though it is beautiful and peaceful.” She gathers in a breath, lips pressing shut for a moment before she glances back at Lexa with another secret, shy smile. “I was actually making garlands.”

“Garlands?” Lexa echoes and her eyes wander down to where one of Clarke’s hands appears from beneath her make shift cape, offering out the simple chain of white blossoms for inspection.

Reaching out, her fingers- rough and calloused- brush against smooth, soft skin and delicately take the flowers from her hands, turning them over carefully to look at.

“Childish I know,” Clarke sounds embarrassed, anxious to explain herself, “But back home there are so many flowers and here… there is only snow.”

“We celebrate the first blossoms here, they show that spring is coming, but if you think that snow is not just as beautiful as flowers I would have to disagree with you,” Lexa hands back the blossoms, “Please, you are cold my lady. I must insist that you return inside with me before you catch a chill. I expect your mother would pronounce war on the north yet again if you were to fall ill under my protection.”

Clarke dares to roll her eyes just slightly, but when Lexa opens the silver clasp on her fur cloak and sweeps it around Clarke’s shoulders she does not protest and accepts the hand held out for her.

Together they walk back through the godswood, Lexa carefully guiding her guest away from the icy patches of snow and the roots reaching up to grab for their ankles. Her hand feels warm on Lexa’s arm, fingers slim and grip firm.

“I must protest your majesty,” Clarke breaks the moment of quiet between them, “How could the snow ever be so beautiful as a field of wild flowers?”

Lexa considers her words, “If you would be obliging, we could journey to the Wall together once the weather is clearer. It is a spectacular sight.”

“I would like that very much.” Clarke offers her a small smile and her hand tightens when her feet stumble and Lexa reaches out to catch her, an arm slipping around her waist to stop her. Clarke’s eyes are wide with surprise, body crushed to Lexa’s chest and her hand touches gently at Lexa’s shoulder, nudging her away.

“My apologies,” Lexa blinks, stepping away and clasping her hands behind her back carefully, lips pursed. Her heart is racing, though she does not know why.

“No, no. Thank you.” She still sounds slightly breathless. They walk again, falling into a silence that is now more painful and tense than it had been before and Lexa grasps clumsily for something to break it.

“I received an interesting letter a few days ago,” She says finally, and Lady Clarke’s eyes move to her curiously. Under her gaze, Lexa explains. “Lord Finn of House Swann says he wishes to have you returned to the south, so that he can marry you.”

“Oh,” To her surprise, Clarke does not seem joyous, only amused and maybe a little exasperated. “I’m sorry, I tried to stop him.”

“You did?” Lexa’s brows shoot up and they come to a halt at the gate to the godswood. They both hesitate, as if unwilling to leave the quiet and privacy it offers them.

“You’re surprised?” Clarke counters, eyebrows rising.

“He wrote with such fervour,” Lexa elaborates, unsettled by the lady’s quiet confidence beside her. “I assumed you were already… committed to one another in some way.”

“We exchanged a kiss in the orange orchard last summer,” Lady Clarke sighs and shakes her head, “But no promises have been made and neither will they be. He was wrong to write to you, I’m sorry.”

“Well, I am glad to know that your time here is not keeping you from your beloved,” Lexa says, at last and Clarke’s cheeks seem to pink a little, the first sign of bashfulness that Lexa has seen from her.

“I assure you, it is not.”

Lexa holds out her arm once again and if Lady Clarke tucks her body a little closer this time, she can only assume it is to shelter from the cold.

#clexa #clexa gotau #clarke griffin #commander lexa #clexa fanfic

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please-dont-hurt-me · 6 years

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I’m still late but here’s the ao3 link to the first chapter of To quote Daft Punk's song 'Touch'; "Touch, touch/ I remember touch/ Where do I belong?" which uses the prompt of touch to explore lonliness and my bitterness.

In summary: its about how Jodie banner gets adopted and forgives Bruce for being sent into space.

15 seems a little too young for a mid-life crisis. But what is considered your mid-life if you don't know when you’re going to die or start to truly live. That's really dramatic but you can get that Jodie wasn't doing so great emotionally.

Bounce. Catch.

Jodie sat on the bed in the guest room of her foster parent’s house, throwing a ball at the wall. She was told by her case worker that it’s just temporary and they’ll find her a family soon. That’s a load of baloney if she’s ever heard any.

Bounce, catch.

She was 15 years old and had given up being adopted. The only dude who wanted a black teenage girl with depression and abandonment issues had almost, almost adopted her but either fucked off or died two years ago.

Bounce, catch.

Honestly, she thought he just abandoned her the first time he left but three years later she got a call from him. He told her why he had run the last time he was in Philly and tried to adopt her. Apparently, the paperwork was halfway done when he fucking left.

Bounce, catch.

A tear fell down her cheek. She dropped the ball and wiped it away. No, it’s over. She’s over it. She’d never see him again. There’s no use crying about it. It doesn’t matter that she loved, that he had been a perfect dad, or that he almost got her out of the system. He’s gone and dead.

Bounce. Catch.

There was a knock at the door.

She shifted her body to be upside down. “Come in.”

The tall man who was her foster dad opened the door. Don’t know his name, don’t care. He’ll get rid of her soon. “Jodie, the agency has some people at the office who might adopt you. Come on.”

Jodie sighed and let herself fall from the bed to the floor. This was going to be a waste of time. Another disappointment. “I’ll get my shoes on.”

And she does. Doesn’t bother with anything else. She follows the foster dad to his Prius and climbed into the passenger seat. He started the car.

The car was filled with the tail end of one of the tabloid networks. “-nner and Thor were spotted in west Philly-” and then foster dad turned on NPR and they drove with false chatter and actual silence.

Jodie’s kind of thankful that this one is so dull.

He stopped at what used to be the orphanage. She got out and nodded.

She approached the old building that was probably made in the 60’s. She pushed open the door and smelled the sterile air that was in the ‘office’ these days. The bell chimed and yelled that she was here in the lull of keyboard clicking and printers humming.

She walked in to the lobby and up to the receptionist, Matt. “Mr. Miller said someone wanted to see me?”

Matt smiled at her. “Yeah, he’s actually holding them off with sticks because he needs to talk to you first.”

Jodie blinked. “What.”

Matt looked at her, then over his shoulder, then turned back to her to grin like a cat that caught the pigeon. “Kid just hurry up. This is going to be ridiculous. I’m filming the shit out of this.”

She moved past Matt. That was weird, and Jodie has a sneaking suspicion that things aren't going to make much sense after she talks to Miller.

She was halfway there before Miller, the social worker who was usually known as level headed at best and stoic at worst, practically ran to her. Yeah, hypothesis confirmed. Shit was gonna get stranger. “Jodie, Jodie, Jodie. You’re really not going to believe what just happened.”

“Thanos returned to earth and wants a bedazzled hot dog.” Jodie said blandly. “Look, let’s not do gossip. You don't do a good delivery and I really don’t care. Show me the people and then let me leave.”

She tried to move past him, but he put a hand over her shoulder. “Jodie, have you been keeping up with the news? Like the stuff to with heroes?”

Jodie frowned, this was going to be one of those dumb hero couples who heard about her knowing Bruce and were going to be looking for the spotlight. They were one of her least favorite group of attempted-adopters. “Not really. Just enough to know when the next alien induced apocalypse is upon us.”

Miller sighed. God here comes the lecture.

“Well you know that the Asgardians landed a couple of weeks ago.” He said.

Jodie raised an eyebrow. “Why would they do that? Don’t they have a golden palace in a universe far, far away or something like that.”

Miller blinked at her before sighing. "I know that you have an aversion to hero's but Christ. So, the planet Asgard got exploded and they are here now as citizens of earth.”

Jodie blinked before shrugging. That’s fucking weird and she’s probably going to see xenophobic shit about Asgardians in the near future. That’s just peachy. “So what does all of that have to do with us, here in Philly. ”

“They brought back Bruce banner.”

Jodie was silent before whispering, “And?”

“He’s here. In my office with King Thor.” Miller said and pointed his thumb at said office. “Come with me?”

Surprise, surprise, Bruce not actually dead. But he’s not going to adopt her right? He’s going to say goodbye in some tragic fashion and run away again. Or get her hopes up and then disappear again.

“Fine, but no promises.” She says and presses past Miller. She pushes the door to his office open and is met with Bruce. Again.

Bruce banner didn’t look as sad and haggard as when she first met him five years ago. He didn’t look better, groomed, but stressed like she had seen him 2 years ago. He was ... happy looking.

He was wearing what some would call business causal, he had longer hair with small braids, he was holding the hand of the man standing next to him (who Jodie is just going to assume is Thor), and he looked like he had gone through a reality show makeover.

He looked up from Thor’s (probably) hand when she had come through the door and smiled when he saw her. “Jodie.”

Just like that? He left her for two years and now he’s back calling her ‘Jodie’? Like none of that shit never happened? Like he left after promising not to? That he left like everyone else and he knew it? Why the hell is he back?

She’s angry. Of course, she was. She got her hopes up about getting out of the system and then everything falls to pieces and he’s gone. She knew about the hulk and all that bullshit, why did he leave? Why is he back?

She clenched her fist. “Why are you back.”

Bruce smiled at her. It was an expression that was a killer combination of happy, fond, parently (was that a word), honest, sad, and regretful. “I’m sorry I left, I really didn’t plan on getting shot into space and stranded on an alien planet.”

She looked at him and then at the chair. “The sentiment is appreciated. Didn’t answer my question though.”

“I wanted to see you again.”

Why did you come back? Why come back now? Why not wait another three years? You seem to have a pattern going there, I’d hate to break it.

She laughed bitterly, “I’ll believe that, but why not wait another year. I mean it fits the pattern.”

He made a sigh and looked at her with the same puppy dog eyes as when she was 10. “I really don’t want a pattern. I just want my daughter back.”

She was speechless for a second. He continued speaking

“I want to adopt you and I don’t want to leave you alone again. But whether or not that happens is entirely up to you” Bruce looks at her. The combination of long hair, beard, and care bear stare is killing her.

Time to deflect emotions.

Jodie turned to Thor. “Where do you fit into this?”

Thor smiled at her and Jodie realized that Thor was going to be indefinitely sappier and more emotional than Bruce. She realized her mistake as he opened his mouth.

“Bruce told me about you.” He squeezed his hand that was melded with Bruce’s. God that was sappy. “How much he loved you, how proud of you he was, and how much he missed you. Part of my culture’s courting ritual is that we spend time with our intended family in preparation for become a part of our own. I haven't been able to do this step completely because Bruce has little family to speak of. But if you wish to be adopted, you shall have that wish granted, and I’ll spend time with you for when you become my daughter as Bruce becomes my husband. You will not only have Bruce’s small family but mine as well.”

Jodie like she had been struck by lightning.

How often had she fantasized a family taking her away? How often was it Bruce taking her and caring for her. Never leaving. Hugging her and comforting her.

How often did she wish on stars that someone would looks at her with so much love and potential love in their eyes as the pair of heroes in front of her?

She was still angry but... she almost couldn't feel it over the shock.

Jodie gulped. “I’ll think about it.”

Bruce smiles at her, “I know. Give us a call when have an answer. Or tell Miller.”

They say their goodbyes and then leave. Well, not before Thor gives her a cookie he made. He smiles as she tries to refuse. He tells her that, “If you do call us, tell me how it turned out. I figured out how to bake a couple days ago and Loki keeps telling me it’s awful, so I have no idea what it’s like.”

Jodie headed back to the Prius with foster dad. As he drove away from the office, she reflected on her life and how it might change. For better, or for worse.

#thorbruce week #jodie banner #thorbruce #its 9 somewhere not in philly #I'm constantly angry with abandonment issues #so here is me projecting

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littlemisssquiggles · 6 years

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RWBY Musings #44: A Squiggle Meister’s Views on Whitley Schnee. The Proverbial Black Sheep of the Schnee Siblings or the overlooked Diamond in the Rough?

An uncommon character for me to muse about, I know. I don’t generally make it habit to ponder about this character but, oddly enough, recently I got thinking about Whitley Schnee. Mind you, Whitley didn’t exactly receive the most favourable of introductions back during the events of RWBY Volume 4.

However, in spite of this, it didn’t deter from making him come off as a less than interesting character.

I wanted to take today to not really do any sort of in-depth analysis on Whitley but rather share one or two ponderings about him that I’ve considered. To think, this all started with just one thought.

Whitley with the Good Hair

Imagine...the same Whitley Schnee we all know from RWBY but with fluffy, unkempt, wavy, hair.

I am not even joking with this. Not gonna lie either. Whitley’s hair kinda bugs me a little bit. It’s so perfectly well-kept all the time that at moments when he’s onscreen, it almost appears too perfect if you actually get what I’m saying and I don’t sound like a complete imbecile bringing up this point. Never have I figured I’d have to use the words ‘outlandishly neat hair’ to describe a character.

In an odd way, I pegged Whitley to be the type to be born with hair that’s not exactly like his sisters. I noticed from the Schnee Family portrait in their residence that Jacques’ hair doesn’t seem to be as naturally white as snow as he’d like others to presume.

As a matter of fact, in the portrait, Jacques’ hair is predominantly black but while his mustache is still dark, you can tell that his hair was starting to grey a bit from age. That’s right, I said, grey. Not white.

However, when we met Jacques in the series, both his hair and mustache were completely chalk white. Give the man a big red and white bucket of fried chicken and he’d be Colonel Sanders.

A dye job perhaps? I wouldn’t put it past him. The series has already painted Jacques as such a ‘wannabe Schnee’, that it wouldn’t surprise me not one bit if he did change his hair colour to fit with his new Schnee title. This actually makes me curious about Jacques’ origin.

What kind of upbringing and background would a man such as that have to come from to become this kind of tyrannical person? So far, we know naught of Jacques’ previous life beyond the fact that he married into the Schnee Family and was only interested in Mama Schnee for her name. This is a man who wanted to the wealth, power and status that the Schnee name brought that he was willingly to feign romantic interest in the Daughter of the Head of the Schnee Dust Company to do so.

This is a man who wanted to be somebody. So with that thought in mind, this pegs the question. How much of a nobody did Jacques used to be before becoming a Schnee?

This makes me wonder if even having children, the proclaimed heirs, is nothing but another superficial front for Jacques to hide behind. It makes me wonder if Jacques has any real intention of ever giving up being the Head of the Schnee Dust Company. This is a man who stole the integrity of a well-known and trusted name in Remnant and tarnished it for his own egotistical greed.

Would a man as devious as that wholeheartedly and willingly just hand the reigns to someone else, even if that someone was his own spawn and rightful heir? I don’t think so. I think Jacques might even end up double crossing Whitley, the current heir, in the end and using him to heighten his running in the company.

This brings me back to Whitley again. This post is supposed to be about the youngest Schnee Sibling after all and not his bad-minded father. However Jacques will be mentioned now and again because the type of person Whitely is now, is as a result of Jacques’ grooming.

Resuming talk about his hair. Soft, silky, snow-white hair seems to be a hereditary trait amongst the Schnee bloodline. That being said, what if...like his father, Whitley’s hair is different from his sisters. Though it may be white in colour as a Schnee’s head would be, the texture of his hair is not of his family.

Imagine if...Whitley’s hair is naturally wavier than his sister’s, creating this constantly dishevelled look that he hates because it’s not the vision of him that his father wants of him and because of this, Whitley desperately tries to keep it under control. Whitley certainly strikes me as the type. He’s so snooty all the time and his hair oddly mimics that level of contempt.

I’m kind of chuckling to myself imagining for Atlas Arc where Whitley is forced to play nice and befriend our heroes because Jacques is making him act the part as a means of gathering intel. But that’s not why I’m laughing. I’m laughing because I’m envisioning Whitley hanging out with the Rosebuds: Ruby and Oscar and the two, mostly Ruby’s idea, drag the poor Schnee boy to an area where there’s water.

And while Ruby and Oscar go for a quick dip, Whitley cautiously chooses to stay dry, remarking that he doesn’t quite enjoy going to pool areas because he doesn’t like getting his hair wet. However Ruby and Oscar don’t buy the excuse and hatch a plan to get the Schnee boy to join them. So while Ruby distracts Whitley, Oscar sneaks up behind him and playfully shoves him into the water.

It was originally meant as a playful joke to get the pretentious rich boy to loosen up a little but the entire act ends up infuriating Whitley. Turns out, Whitley is just as harsh with words when he’s pissed like his sister Weiss.

But as Whitley is uncharacteristically yelling at our veteran rose buds, Ruby and Oscar are in awe.

Not for Whitley losing his cool, which was a first, but because of what the water had done to his hair. When Whitley had fell into the water, it washed away whatever chemical hair products that was keeping it at bay because Whitley now stood with a full head of the fluffiest curly white locks the two had ever seen.

He looked like a completely different person; albeit while also looking like an angry lollipop with a head of white cotton candy.

And upon realizing what had happened based on Ruby and Oscar’s shared surprised reactions, Whitley becomes incredibly embarrassed at the fact that his secret was out and before anyone could tell him to stop, Whitley immediately climbs out of the water and storms off.

If Whitley had tougher hair, he’d probably trust Klein to comb it because he’s the only one who fully understands Whitley’s need to please his father.

Just picture, Whitley Schnee---the real Whitley Schnee with his natural fluffy ‘bed head’ posed disgruntled before a mirror, looking disgustedly at himself, surrounded by varying hair styling utensils and products while Klein works his magic to get the young boy looking like a proper boy; just as daddy would like it.

Yup. Whitley definitely strikes me as that type. The type who would have wild, unruly hair but is able to pull it off quite handsomely because, though a little more difficult to maintain that his sisters’, Whitley actually has really good hair. Whitley with the good hair. He just needs to learn how to maintain it but unfortunately doesn’t want to.

To Whitely, while the wild natural ‘bed head’ look might suit him better because he’d look less like a mini-Jacques with it, due to the young man’s obsession with living up to his father’s expectations of him, he keeps this side hidden because...the real him isn’t up to his father’s standards. Neat Whitley is and that’s how he wants to keep it.

Yep. Though this is all mostly me just speculating, I can totally see this being canon because as I’ll say again, Whitley strikes me as that type of character. The type that probably has another side to him that feels more true to himself but chooses not to show it often or at all. The type that would need someone to help him with his hair and other things because he doesn’t know how to maintain this delusion of himself on his own. Someone to help him keep his guise up, quickly painting all the cracks in his mask whenever one of his many pretences start to fall apart and his real nature and feelings start to leak out.

The type where if the slightest thing isn’t perfect, he’ll completely unravel and wouldn’t know how to piece himself back together without help from those who truly care about him because he’d been forced to suppress himself for so long. At least, this is how I’m interpreting Whitley’s character.

Apple Doesn’t Fall Far From the Tree

‘...It’s foolish, not to do what father asks...’

‘Are you jealous? Is that it? Whatever do you mean? Is that why you hate me? Are you jealous of my abilities? Of Winter’s? Hmm. Not really. Honestly I find it barbaric. It’s beneath people like me, like father...’

Y’know what’s funny? If you pay attention to some of Whitley’s dialogue from V4, you can interpret a lot about his character regardless of whether it was the writers’ intention for this assumption or not. For starters, what I’m gathering from this is that Whitley, contrary to what Weiss might think of him right now, doesn’t hate his sisters’.

Between Weiss and Winter, I feel a stronger connection with Weiss resonating from Whitley. I certainly get the vibe that he likes her more than Winter.

‘...You’re strong, like Winter. You never liked Winter. True. But you can’t deny her resolve...’

What’s interesting to note is when Weiss called Whitley out for disliking Winter, he didn’t deny it. As a matter of fact, he openly admitted it without the slightest hint of remorse. However when Weiss questioned Whitley about hating her, he never exactly said he did. His answer was a nonchalant ‘not really’. So Whitley dislikes Winter but not Weiss. So why is that?

Here’s my deduction. I think the reason why Whitley may resent Winter is because in his head, not only was she the first to defy their father but she was one whose actions encouraged Weiss to follow in her defiant footsteps; choosing to study to become a huntress away at Beacon rather than in Atlas where Jacques continue to keep a very tight reigns on her.

Winter was the first to break free from her cage and started this whole debacle of disobedience. If Winter had just stayed in line, then Whitley wouldn’t have lost not one but both of his sisters.

‘...You seem different. And you’ve been gone. I’ll have you know, I didn’t stop growing while you were away at Beacon...’

In rewatching this scene where Whitley was first introduced, this line he said to Weiss really stuck out to me. It kind of implies Whitley’s true feelings about Weiss leaving here. It tells me, as the viewer, that Whitley might be harbouring some unspoken feelings of bitterness towards his sister’s departure for Beacon.

I’m not sure how close the Schnee Siblings were growing up but it is safe to assume that there was some level of closeness as family, right? The impression I got here is that to Whitley, with his sisters around there was the slight comfort of knowing that he wasn’t alone. Even if their relationship was shaky, his sisters were always present in his life at all times. But because Weiss chose to defy their father, like Winter did before her, for a second time in his life, Whitley lost yet another sister.

His big sister had left home...left Jacques...left him and why? To forge her own path outside of the sheltered lifestyle their father had laid out for them.

There is no doubt that Whitley is loyal to Jacques to a fault. He’s such a trained canary with the way how he just blindly follows Jacques around and adheres to everything he says and does; that it makes me wonder if this kid is even human and not some robo-child programmed to be subservient to the whim of Jacques Schnee.

Even Penny Pollendina felt more human than machine than Whitley and she was the real deal.

That being said, I also believe there is no denying that Whitley...in his own Whitley way, loves his sisters. Particularly Weiss and when they both left...it probably hurt. A lot more than he alludes to. Perhaps he feels like his sisters both abandoned him. While Weiss and Winter stayed close and held on to each other, Whitley was left alone with only Jacques as his guide.

Not even Mama Schnee was around, as it would seem. Too preoccupied with her own drunkard stupor to be there for her own son.

Speaking of which, did anyone else notice that in V4, Jacques keeps a picture of Whitley on his desk in his study but one of his own wife on the shelf in the corner of the room?

What does that say? Whitley is certainly special to Jacques. I mean, he is the only he has left. The only one that hasn’t pulled away. His little perfectly groomed puppet that he occasionally likes to parade around for all of Atlas to see what a caring father he is including every wealthy Atlesian aristocrat dumb enough to fall for their act and invest in Jacques. It’s a never-ending game of manipulation where Whitley is the sole MVP.

However the weird thing is, I don’t get Whitley’s real motive for following Jacques. Though he’s painted as a puppet, the way how Whitley played Weiss---oh I’m sorry, based on the way Weiss claimed Whitley played her like a fiddle while he himself didn’t deny that that was his intentions from the start, makes me wonder if he could have his own schemes underway.

Whitley is such an elusive character to me that I can’t tell if his faithfulness to Jacques is out of blind love, a son’s desperate need for his father’s constant appraisal and acknowledgment or...could Whitley have his own plans for the Schnee Dust Company and Jacques is just too ignorant to notice his own son’s deceit?

I brought up this hunch in another musing about Whitley. Sure Jacques is probably just manipulating Whitley and using him in the same fashion he does for everything and everyone around him. But what if...the twist is that Whitley is also using Jacques and plans on giving him his just desserts.

They say karma is a cold-hearted bitch so wouldn’t it be ironic and a fitting punishment for Jacques to get taken down by the very perfect child he’s been grooming to be like him in the same fashion he duped Mama Schnee? A nice addition to Whitley’s character is if of all the Schnee children, he’s the one that cared about their mother the most.

Though like father, like son, I like the idea of Whitley being a momma’s boy too; sharing a close bond with Mamma Schnee from since birth. I imagined, before Weiss’ 10th birthday, Mamma Schnee was probably a very loving mother who adored all her children. However Whitley was the spoiled one because he was the baby of the bunch. But after hearing the truth that the man she’s been married to for years didn’t truly love her, the news changed Mamma Schnee and suddenly, she just wasn’t the same caring person anymore.

What if...as a young boy, Whitley was very close to his mother and hated the pain his own father caused her growing up. So much so that he’s been plotting his own devious scheme for years, smartly playing the role of ‘the good child’ as a ploy to gain Jacques’ trust before removing him from the picture as revenge. That’s one cool hunch for Whitley’s character story, dontcha think?

The Phantom of the Schnee Dust Company

Speaking of ideas for Whitley’s character story, this brings me to a next theory I’m wanna talk about.

Does Whitley Schnee secretly have summoning powers like his sisters?

Winter Schnee once told Weiss that every member of the Schnee family has the ability to summon and have done so for generations. She made mention of this back in V3. That being said, I wonder if the same can be said for Whitley, who isn't a huntsman per say, but certainly has the potential to unlock this kind of power given his lineage, right?

What’s to say he hasn’t already? Perhaps, Whitley already awakened his semblance but no one else knows of this. Not even Jacques. I believe Whitley Schnee probably does possess summoning powers but unlike his sisters, who have both fully embraced their potential, Whitley despises his powers and thus, suppresses his abilities.

We’ve seen two Schnees accept their powers upon unlocking them. What would happen to one who’s unlocked their power but shows resistance?

This is going to sound weird to say but perhaps, Whitley’s Schnee power is surprisingly the strongest of the three siblings; even more powerful than his sisters’ combined; probably mirroring that of their grandfather’s skill level at that age.

Wouldn’t be surprised if Whitley associates the Schnee’s hereditary semblance with being a curse due to the rebellious nature that its current wielders seem to adopt once fully realizing their potential. After all, look at Winter and Weiss. They both left Jacques’ cold clutches upon acknowledging their strength as huntresses.

What if...Jacques has drilled into Whitley’s head that having such powers is a curse in itself because it made his sisters’ insolent and thus, Whitley sees it the same way too.

The more I consider it, the more I’m falling in love with the concept of Whitley having summoning abilities but because he chooses to ignore the existence of such powers within himself and thus represses his own semblance, he’s lost control of his own summoning.

Imagine...Whitley being haunted by a summon he unintentionally manifested in the real world? Besides having an arsenal of summons to chose from, both Winter and Weiss seem to have a signature summon that they call upon the most. For Winter, it’s her Beowolves. For Weiss, it’s her Arma Gigas.

So what if...Whitley’s summon is a Geist? A literal phantom that can take the form of anything it possesses. A creature of many masks, no different than its amateur summoner.

The Geist, being a summon, acts on the will of Whitley, its summoner. However because Whitley has been suppressing his powers for so long, he doesn’t quite know how to control the summon. Similar to how Weiss lost control and accidentally summoned a Boarbatusk at the charity ball out of her frustration with one of its disrespectful patrons, imagine Whitley’s Geist manifesting itself during moments when his emotions at its peak and the creature acts out on those negative emotions.

I’m just envisioning a side story for the upcoming Atlas Arc where some strange occurrences have been happening around Atlas that put the Schnee Dust Company in the spotlight. Competitor company buildings going up in flames. Missing former employees who were all reported to have quit the job in recent times. Severe injuries and in some cases, death, surrounding people who were in recent alleged heated contact with head of the company: Jacque Schnee; etc. At first the incidences were suspected to be White Fang activity, even though the White Fang haven’t been relevant since the Triumph of Haven and the reformation of the Brotherhood. But due to the unusual nature of the cases and the fact that no evidence was found at the scene of the crimes, these incidences eventually became closed cases. But that didn’t stop it from creating negative propaganda that brought the Schnee Dust Company to the forefront of the Atlesian headlines; catching the attention of the public including Weiss and Winter.

Imagine...Weiss and Winter working together to solve the mystery of what was going on within their family company while subsequently concocting a plan to remove Jacques Schnee once and for all under the assumption that he’s been orchestrating the events as an interrogation tactic to ward off competition while gaining the sympathy of the public eye. So in the beginning, Jacques Schnee was believed to be the main culprit. However, in the midst of it all, all traces of added evidence started pointing towards the true mastermind: Whitley Schnee who had been using his newly awakened semblance to get his father ahead and keep him at the top.

But do you know what the bigger twist would be? That Jacques was oblivious to Whitley’s powers and his intentions of using them the way he did.

Even better. Wanna hear the biggest twist? Whitley is oblivious to his own powers or at least, decides not accept that they aren’t real and his to control. While the rich boy was aware of the strange occurrences was due to a monster, he called ‘The Phantom’, what he didn’t know was that the beast was his summon. He always figured the beast was a ghost sent by karma to haunt him. But what he didn’t realize was that the wild summon was a manifestation of his own suppressed powers he’d been trying to hide even though they’d been growing stronger. So strong that’d become erratic with the summoned Geist appearing chaotic in form.

I just would love to see Whitley as a summoner; particularly an antagonistic one. I wonder if this is what the CRWBY Writers might be alluding to with his character or at least it’s one way to look at it. At first I figured he might’ve been the one to have no powers. But imagine if he does but uses them for all the wrong reasons; be it intentional or not.

Picture....a Battle of the Schnees where for the first time in RWBY history, Winter and Weiss tag-team to take down a crazed and broken Whitley who is revealed to be a summoner like his sisters and whose own summon had been attacking victims on Whitley’s behalf.

Of course, like I mentioned before, Whitley is unaware of this because he’s been suppressing his powers just he’d be suppressing so many other things about himself, forcibly trying to keep it all at bay to maintain his facade of perfection.

But in the end, it all falls apart and the Schnee boy suffers a mental breakdown with his own monstrous phantom lashing out because of it. So it’s up to his big sisters to come to his rescue.

Doesn’t that sound like a cool story to tell?

I want so much from the Atlas Arc. So many side stories I wanna see done and this is one of them. And if it leads to Whitley receiving an inkling of redemption; y’know reconciling things with his sisters with the three Schnee Siblings finally coming together as a family which then leads to them working together to put an end to Jacques’ reign, wouldn’t that be an interesting way to conclude Weiss’ story arc with her family on a positive light?

I know this is something I’d love to see as part of the Atlas Arc. But again, I’m not a writer for RWBY so I am curious to see what Miles and Kerry has in store for us going forward, particularly for Whitley.

A Better Whitley

Although I originally wrote him off as a bad character, I’m actually intrigued as to where the CRWBY Writers are going to go with Whitley’s development, particularly regarding his role in the upcoming Atlas Arc.

I know for a fact that Whitley will be a major player in Weiss’ side of the story, for sure.

Don’t get me wrong, I still desire for Whitley to be an antagonist or rival character to Oscar Pine in the arena for Ruby’s affections.

While I doubt Whitley would have any genuine affection towards Ruby beyond using her in a similar fashion his own father used his mother, I think Whitley would be the perfect Ying to Oscar’s Yang to give the farm boy a well-deserved shove towards realizing his true feelings for the Silver Eyed Girl.

I love the idea of Whitley being a rival to Oscar. But believe it or not, I also like the idea of the two becoming allies too if possible. Whitley looks like he could use more people in his life that care about him besides his father. Maybe even Klein cares deeply for Whitley---the father figure he deserves but he just never acknowledges it. I think Oscar can be a good friend for Whitley.

While I don’t ship Rich Farmers as a relationship (proud RoseGardener over here), I do like the thought of them being a friendship. If Rubes becomes Oscar’s closest best friend, then can the precious farm boy begrudgingly become the snooty rich boy’s best friend or...the closest thing to it?

The kind of friendship that I imagine Oscar and Whitley having is the one where either originally hated each other’s guts but when you eliminate the object that made them butt heads in the first place (like Whitley pursuing Ruby and Oscar becoming jealous for of it), turns out the two might actually get along quite well. May even like each other...or at least respect the other enough to not kill them in their sleep when they piss them off.

An unlikely friendship that thrives on a shit ton of inside jokes and even more sarcastic quips at the other’s expense. The kind of friendship that makes others question why and how the two participants befriended each other when their attitude makes it seem like they hate each other when in actuality, they love each other like two inglorious bastard brothers bred from the same illegitimate father called anarchy.

So yeah, while I’m drawn to the concept of Whitley being a rival and a mini boss character, I’d also like to learn more about his character in hopes that he may be redeemed.

Though not much was revealed about Whitley back in V4, it did hint of there being more layers to him and I’m hoping we get to explore those layers once the group returns to Atlas.

I just don’t want for Whitley to be another throw away character who’s just there for the sake of moving the plot along or being an unnecessary red herring. I don’t want Whitley to be another Vernal or Professor Lionheart. Both characters had the potential for more, the writers just chose not to flesh them out before cutting straight to their inevitable deaths in the Haven Battle.

While very straightforward, this left me feeling more like these two characters were merely just plot devices rather than what they’re supposed to be---actual characters. While the CRWBY writers didn’t necessarily have to keep these characters around for future arcs, my complaint here is that they could’ve done a much better job at fleshing them out.

As I said, make them feel more like characters. Never mind that they were meant to die, at least make me care about their deaths.

I don’t want this to be the case with Whitley or any character during the Atlas Arc. Which is why I’m hoping that the Conclusion to the Mistral Arc in V6 leading into the Atlas Arc would be handled much better. Regarding Whitley, the writers have already established some keen plot points to assist with composing his part in ongoing story.

I just pray that Miles and Kerry learnt from their mistakes during the last two seasons and will work towards making sure that the seasons ahead are done much better.

Despite being painting as this conniving person, when I recall V4, I don’t remember Whitley actually doing anything that’d suggest that. As a matter of fact, all the allegations that Weiss made about Whitley were pointed out by her without the show visually showing that he committed these crimes. There was a lot of ‘Tell. Not Show’ for volumes 4 and 5 and I sincerely hope this is a habit that the CRWBY will drop for the upcoming V6.

They could’ve easily not have given Weiss a brother at all. This is the thing though. Why was Whitley introduced? In the scope of things, his character wasn’t really necessary because the past seasons had already established the tension of Weiss’ relationship with Jacques and that was enough to drive her own arc during the V4 Split.

It’s not like Whitley’s introduction in V4 actually acted as a good catalyst for the events that happened to Weiss during the season that lead to her outburst at the charity ball after party to her fall out with Jacques to even her departure.

Did Whitley give Weiss the brilliant idea to present an expensive painting as part of an auction to help raise funds for Beacon, knowing full well that Weiss would fail in that regard? No.

.Did Jacques give Weiss reason to bring up the painting during their fight so that Weiss could have leverage to make mention that Whitley supported her in her idea only for the boy to turn on Weiss in the moment and take Jacques side, showing just how two faced he could be? Nope. The charity painting and the Atlesian Elite’s total disregard for the People in Vale following the Fall of Beacon was what drove Weiss to spiral out of control the way she did. Whitley Schnee played no part in that scene yet somehow Weiss blamed him like her being punished by Jacques was his doing when really...what did he do though?

Seriously. In the grander scope of things, Whitley did nothing for V4 except talk. And even when he did talk it’s not like he was being a clever snake, whispering in Weiss’ ear and encouraging her to pursue her own personal ideas that in hindsight, would please her but knowingly irk Jacques.

Nope. All he did was play nice the entire time yet when Jacques took away her heiress status, there was Weiss accusing Whitley of being devious the entire time and there he was smiling and acting like this was all true. But in reality, nothing happened on screen to prove this.

You could remove Whitley from the story in V4 and the plot wouldn’t have played out any differently. I’m sorry to say this for all the diehard Whitley fans in the FNDM but his character added nothing more for V4 beyond giving Weiss a punching bag to point fingers at for the consequences of her own actions against Jacques; which wasn’t even necessary. Up until V4, there has been no prior mention of Weiss ever having a brother. We knew she had Winter since her debut in V3 and we knew of Jacques because he was already established as the authoritarian father she was trying to avoid. The one whose crimes she constantly found herself having to pay for and whose royal test she had to shoulder.

But there was never any mentioning of Whitley at all. Neither Schnee sisters didn’t even comment about Whitley being in the picture during their one on one talk before Winter’s leave in V3 C6. Jacques was mentioned, naturally. But no Whitley.

So then why does his character exist? What are the CRWBY writers’ setting him up to truly be? Is he indeed the proverbial black sheep of the siblings, driven by the negativity of feeling abandoned by both of his older sisters or...will he be the diamond in the rough---a conniving trickster on the surface but his trickery is merely another one of his acts to conceal the ambitions of more caring soul.

Whatever it is, I hope it isn’t another poor plot device and actually fits within the context of the story and the overall direction the Atlas Arc is leading towards.

So to conclude...

As I’ll say again, I don’t want Whitley to be another Vernal or Lionheart otherwise it’d just be boring. If he does have a bigger role to play, I hope it’s a well conducted one that gives him more depth than what was glimpsed in V4.

I’m even hoping for a twist or perhaps twists with his character like what I theorized. Overall, whatever Whitley’s story is, I hope it’s handled with enough tact to leave his fans happy and satisfied.

♦ More RWBY Musings by Squiggles

~LittleMissSquiggles (2018)

#rwby #whitley schnee #oscar pine #whitley and weiss #rwby volume 6 predictions #rwby theories #jacques schnee #rwby musings

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 6 years

Text

That Explains Everything-Platonic!Wonder Woman Imagine

Requested: No

Warnings: some creepy imagery and mild violence

A/N: The tone is similar to Percy Jackson but I promise I’m not plagiarizing. Wonder Woman belongs to DC Comics

Even though Principal Adams was trying to seem as intimidating as possible while telling Mom exactly why I’d been sent to the principal’s office for the fifth time this week, I couldn’t stop staring at the mole on the old lady’s chin. It got bigger and grayer every time I saw it and legend had it, the more kids she kicked out of the high school, the bigger it grew. Her gray hair was tied into an impossibly tight bun at the nape of her neck and the cheap powder that she thought made her look a bit younger actually accented her jowls and the veins in her neck. I couldn’t keep my eyes off them as she spoke-----it was like watching a Saw movie: it was horrible but I couldn’t look away.

“I am so sorry that Y/N got into another fight. It won’t happen again,” Mom said in a pleading voice.

“Well, it definitely won’t happen for the next two weeks because your daughter will be suspended,” Principal Adams said.

“What?” I exclaimed.

Principal Adams glared at me but her thin gray eyebrows raised in surprise. “You need time to think about your actions. All these outbursts of violence will not be tolerated at Bradford Academy, especially since this specific one resulted in Mr. Benson’s arm being broken.”

Mom whipped around to look at me. “You broke a boy’s arm?”

“He started it! He wouldn’t stop calling me a giant or a freak. He was harrasing me, that’s what I was trying to tell Principal Adams! I told him that if he didn’t cut it out, I’d break his arm. He didn’t believe me.” I smirked at the thought of that little weasel Jackson screaming just two hours ago when I snapped his arm in two.

Mom sighed and faced Principal Adams. “Again, I apologize on behalf of my daughter, but I know she is not a liar. Is anything being done about Mr. Benson’s behavior?”

“He is a victim but I will speak to him about leaving girls like Y/N alone.”

“Sure,” I muttered with an eyeroll.

“Y/N!” Mom hissed.

A million more sharp words ran through my head but I decided to keep my mouth shut. If I kept talking, Principal Adams would make sure I didn’t graduate and the last thing I needed was to go to another private school in DC or spend another year in this stuffy hell. After seventeen years, Mom still hadn’t figured out that no matter where I went I would always be a freak. I was six-foot-one and strong but no one could tell when they looked at me. I was always stronger than the boys, a fact they hated, and they would bully me until I fought back. Even though I did get sent to detention or the principal’s office often, I refused not to defend myself. Mom would tell me to let it go and ignore them but she didn’t understand how boys were only encouraged when I ignored them. Dad suggested putting me into sports to get rid of my aggression and I was good at sports, but boys still bullied me. It was actually during a game of soccer in gym class that this Jackson incident occurred and he was angry that I’d scored three too many goals on him. Usually, I was able to ignore him and keep my calm, but when he put his hands on me, I snapped.

Ten more minutes of polite berating later, Mom and I were walking down the glorious steps of Bradford Academy. A couple of stick-thin blonde girls giggled as we walked passed them, apparently amused by the fact that I looked so uncouth in my uniform of a pleated black skirt, gray button down and blood red vest. It was a comically beautiful day with the sun shining, the sky clear and blue, and a cool breeze.

“You are on such thin ice here, Y/N. You need to get your temper in check.”

“Yeah, my temper’s the problem,” I muttered.

Mom paused and turned to me. “Obviously it is. Everyone gets bullied, Y/N, but they don’t always end up in the principal’s office or suspended.” “I defended myself----it should be Jackson who’s in trouble, but that will never happen because he’s a rich white boy.”

“Lower your voice,” Mom hissed.

Mom was a socialite of DC, lunching with first ladies and other women of the like. She was the vision of upper class and I was the thorn in her side. It wasn’t like I asked for her and Dad to adopt me.

She glanced around as though to make sure there weren’t any spies before she continued. “The Bensons are an extremely important family and they could ruin your father’s career. Who knows how he’ll react to this.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a burden, Mom.”

“I didn’t say that.” She pursed her lips. “Just...take a cab home and we’ll talk about this later.”

On the cab ride home, I knew that Mom and Dad thought of me as a burden. They’d taken pity on me when they adopted me and probably hoped that Dad would be more appealing to politicians once they’d groomed their new daughter into a social butterfly. While I behaved as well as I could at their important functions, I couldn’t help but be irritated when people gawked at me and men made off-handed comments about how they’d like to see how many times my legs would wrap around them.

I hated being stared at and I wished just for once to fit in and be normal.

Finally, the cab pulled up to the town house and I paid the guy before wandering inside the massive place. Original Picassos and Rembrandts hung on the wine-colored foyer walls and classical music filled the house. I slipped off my shoes and set them in the shoe closet.

“Roberta, I’m home!” I called. “And I will be for a while. I’m feeling pasta for dinner tonight, is that good?”

When the kind-hearted housekeeper didn’t respond, I got a little nervous. Roberta always greeted me when I came home and would offer me cookies and other comfort food as I told her about my issues of the day.

“You are different, Y/N, and people cannot stand different,” she would say. “But different people make life interesting and those who keep bothering you are jealous because they will never be anything but boring.”

It was cliche but it also made me feel better. I needed a double dose of it in that moment more than ever and I couldn’t help but get fidgety.

“Roberta?” I called again.

I wandered further into the house as a sense of something not being right creeped up behind me. My steps got lighter and lighter as I approached the kitchen. That was where I found Roberta: lying on the ground with blood seeping out of her chest. Her paled face was wrenched in agony and fear, as though she’d seen the most awful thing before she passed. I gasped and fell to my knees as I rushed to her.

“Roberta, oh no, oh my goodness, how did this....what did this,” I whispered as I tried to clot her wound and listened for a pulse. When there was none, more tears crept to my eyes. “No, no, Roberta, no.”

That was when I heard it: a hissing laugh that sounded like pure evil. It caused me to whip my head around and my eyes widened as I stared at the beast. The thing was crouched over and big, bigger than me. Its entire body was covered in black slime and its hands were claws that looked like butcher knives. What would have been a face was long and blank white eyes stared at me. Its mouth was wide and when it grinned, it revealed eight rows of razor sharp teeth. It looked like something out of a nightmare but rather than be afraid, I was furious. Quickly, I stood and grabbed a big knife from the island. The beast let out another loud hiss before charging at me. I waited for it to get close enough before I lunged and drove the knife into its engorged stomach. It cried out even though the knife didn’t go in. I managed to dive between its legs and run in the opposite direction, but it was right behind me. I started running up the stairs and turned to slash the knife across the face, but it slapped the knife out of my hand and scratched at my shirt, tearing the whole front open.

“AHHHH! SOMEONE, HELP ME!” I screamed.

Then, it hissed something in a language I didn’t understand and shoved me so hard that I soared all the way up the rest of the stairs and landed with a thud on the second floor. The adrenaline coursing through me allowed me not to feel anything as I scrambled to my feet and tried to run again, but my right foot felt weird. That was when the beast caught up to me and slashed at my back, causing me to cry out and fall on my knees again. I rolled over and it stood over me. I was frozen in fear, but I didn’t want to give up without a fight. I lifted my left foot and kicked it as hard as I could in the stomach. It screeched as it went flying back towards the staircase. I straightened up and what I saw next made my eyes widen. A golden length of rope wrapped itself around the monster’s entire body and it screamed as the rope tightened. The rope tightened hard enough for the monster to turn into a pool of black slime that was splattered all over the first half of the staircase.

My breathing got harder and harder in spite of my relief that the monster was gone. I supposed it was because of all that energy I used trying to fight it off.

A moment later, none other than Wonder Woman was standing at the top of the staircase, decked out in full uniform, and her gaze was on me. She looked even more powerful in person.

“Y/N?” she asked.

“Wonder Woman? How...how do you know who I am?”

“We’ve had our eye on you for a while, and please, call me Diana.” She walked over to me and knelt down. “Your ankle doesn’t look very good.”

“We?”

“My associates and I are always looking for more people to join us and you are a person of interest,” Diana said as she slipped off my shoe to get a better look at my ankle.

“Your associates?” My eyes widened in realization. “You mean Batman and the Flash?”

“Amongst others.”

I shook my head. “This can’t be happening right now.”

“I can assure you that it is certainly happening.”

Diana helped me to my feet and I showed her to the nearest bathroom so she could help me fix up my ankle. She had a surprising gentle touch as she examined my ankle.

“It’s just a sprain, I’ve broken it before.”

“Still, you need to be in the best possible shape if you want to be one of us,” Diana said as she wrapped up my ankle.

“Wh...why would you guys want anything to do with me? I’m just a teenage girl and I’m pretty sure you don’t need someone who’s super good at sports.”

Diana hesitated from wrapping my ankle as she looked up at me. “You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“Y/N, demons like the one who was in your house don’t just go after humans----they take orders from someone more powerful than they are.”

I frowned. “That was a demon?”

“And one of the more vicious ones.”

“So, if I’m not human, then what am I?”

Diana raised an eyebrow. “You’re a smart girl, I thought you would have figured it out by now.”

I nearly told her that I’d done less than well on my last calculus pop quiz but I decided not to, curious as to where she was going with this.

“You’re an Amazon, Y/N.”

In short, I was stunned. I always knew that I was adopted----my hair was y/h/l, y/h/t, y/h/c and my parents’ weren’t. I had y/e/c and neither of them did. I was tall and they were average but still short compared to me. I knew that I belonged to a different family but not an entirely different species.

I shook my head. “No, that’s impossible. Amazons are a myth created by Homer and a bunch of other Greeks.”

“Do I look like a myth? Zeus brought me to life with my mother and your case is similar.”

“How is this possible?”

“Centuries ago, there was a war between the Amazons and Ares. He tried to take over our home, Themyscira, but we refused to let him. Though we defeated him, one of his men managed to take you from your mother’s home and bring you to earth. Your mother spent her whole life searching for you.”

“So, she died?” “Yes, she got sick and passed on, but I am sure she would be proud of you-----not many untrained Amazonians could have fought off a demon as well as you did.”

“Thanks.”

It still felt like a sucker punch to the gut knowing that I would never meet my birth mother, but at least it explained why I was so different from everyone else.

“How did you know where to find me?” I asked.

Diana smirked. “Well, we look for people who can do extraordinary things and just a few weeks ago, you saved a little girl who should have been crushed by a car.”

I nodded at the memory. Mom and Dad had managed to convince the local newspapers to spin it as one of those adrenaline stories, but adrenaline didn’t cause teenage girls to stop a moving car with their bare hands as it sped towards a little girl in the street. They were both so upset with me that I didn’t think they would speak to me again, but what I was supposed to do, let the little girl die?

“They said it was an adrenaline rush but I knew it wasn’t. I’ve always been pretty strong.”

“As all Amazons are,” Diana said. “You are also faster and taller, which also fall into being an Amazon. I was planning on speaking to you today but fortune had it to where someone sent a demon after you so you got to see me like this.” She gestured to her uniform.

“I don’t understand why someone would send a demon after me. I get into fights on a daily basis, but I don’t see how that would constitute someone conjuring up a demon and sicking it on me.”

Diana’s expression turned grave and serious. “That is because someone else knows you are an Amazon and knows how much you are capable of. I must say that I see it as well and the only way I can help you and protect you is if you join me and my associates.”

I was stunned. Wonder Woman was asking me to join the Justice League? I just found out I had powers but had no idea how to use them. How useful was that going to be to a team of super powerful and experienced individuals?

“Shouldn’t you be looking for someone more experienced?”

“No, me and Mr. Wayne agreed that you would be a great addition once you were trained.”

“Mr. Wayne, as in Bruce Wayne? How do you know him?”

Diana shook her head. “I’ll explain that all to you later but I am giving you an opportunity to not only protect yourself but all humans. You will no longer have to fight off idiots who attack you for being different.”

“How did you---”

“Like I said, we’ve been watching you for a long time now.” Diana rest her hand on my shoulder. “It is your decision, but if you do stay, you must know that you put not only your life but the lives of everyone around you in danger.”

Immediately, my mind went back to Roberta. I could only imagine how frightened she was in her last moments and I didn’t want to think about what would have happened if it had been Mom or Dad. Even though they didn’t understand what it was like to be me, they did their best and I loved them. It petrified me to even think that they could have the same fate as Roberta. Plus, they wouldn’t have to worry about their little girl getting into so many scraps and getting expelled. As part of the Justice League, I would have no choice but to get into scraps for the better of mankind.

“I’ll go with you but I have to say goodbye to my parents, arrange a funeral for my housekeeper, and clean up the mess that demon left.”

“Fine.”

Though it all didn’t necessarily happen in that order-----my parents came right after I finished cleaning the mess-----my transition into becoming a member of the Justice League was fairly smooth. At first, my parents refused to let me go until Diana appeared from cleaning up Roberta and putting her body back in her bed. Diana helped me persuade them that this choice was for the best, but I promised not to leave until after Roberta’s funeral. Two weeks later, Diana and I were walking into Wayne Manor. It was even bigger than the pictures suggested and Alfred directed us to the BatCave, where Mr. Wayne was sitting in front of a giant computer and multiple screens. It was hard to focus anywhere since there were cool black, bat-related gadgets every where.

“Mr. Wayne, Diana Prince and Y/N Y/L/N are here,” Alfred said.

Mr. Wayne turned around and he was even more handsome in person in an older man kind of way. He stood up straight and wore a white button down shirt tucked into steamed gray pants. He moved with authority and shook my hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N,” Mr. Wayne said.

“Really? It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Wayne. I can’t believe that you’re Batman.”

He smirked. “Please, call me Bruce.”

“I mean, I can kind of believe it and am a little annoyed I didn’t figure it out sooner.” I blinked and instantly regretted my words. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to----”

“It’s fine, Y/N, I just hope no one is as acute about it as you are.” He released my hand and turned to Diana.

“You said she’s eager for training?” he asked.

“Extremely and she’s a natural at fighting,” Diana said.

“Good. We’ll start training tomorrow at five.”

“In the morning?” I asked.

“Is that a problem, Y/N?”

“No, not at all, Mr. Way---I mean, Bruce.”

Bruce stared me down for a second. “You know, there is a certain amount of dedication that is required to be a part of this team. If I sense that you are not a fraction dedicated, I will ask you to leave, no matter what Diana says.”

“That won’t be an issue,” Diana said.

“I understand that this is serious, Bruce, and I am ready to do whatever it takes to prove it.” “Good, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Morning training turned out to be even worse than it sounded. Diana and Bruce took turns tiring me out, kicking me, punching me, and knocking me onto my butt in general, but I refused to give up. There was no way I was going back to being that freak girl in DC. That fueled me to get better every day and practice with Barry, Cyborg, and Diana. Eventually, I got so good that I knew that Bruce was proud of me and wanted to smile every time I took down a villian in the field, but he never would----he had a reputation to protect.

#wonder woman imagine #dc comics imagine #diana prince imagine

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what-even-is-thiss · 7 years

Text

Fic, Sun Boy

I think we all remember that thread about Thomas being a sun nymph that fell out of Apollo’s court or something. Well... I don’t usually feel good about writing about real people so let’s just say this is a fictional character based on Thomas to make me feel better. Because that’s what it is. The real Thomas Sanders is probably not a sun nymph. Probably

Tip Jar

Warnings: Falling. 2,490 words.

Abstract: Apollo makes a tough decision.

“And here we are. This way, you’re doing great!” The young demigod walked along, straining to see anything through the blinding lights around her. The figure in front of her made of light and somehow in the form of a man held her hand with a surprising solidness and placed what felt like a pair of glasses in it. When she put them on and pushed her dark braids out of her face she saw the palace in its entirety. The ornate building was halfway buried and perhaps the biggest she had ever seen. Greek columns painted in the colors of the sunrise and sunset held up a huge dome that swirled with color and seemed to be an eternal sunset. Nymphs made of light and various deities carried around tools, instruments, medical supplies, animal grooming things, and gods know what else, hurried around on the ground and in the air. Everyone seemed to be in quite a hurry. “Wow.” She breathed, struck with awe. “Isn’t it great? Her guide said. She looked at him properly for the first time, with the aid of the glasses. He was white in appearance and glowed brightly. His eyes were honey brown, he wore a button up and a jacket, and she kind of wished he didn’t laugh so much because whenever he did it got slightly brighter for a second and it kind of hurt her eyes. They continued to walk over the incredibly long orange tiled floor, her heels clicking andhis bare feet not making a sound and a million questions burned through her mind. Of course she picked a strange one. Just like her and her nerves. “Aren’t nymphs supposed to be girls?” She said, before clasping a hand over her mouth. Her guide just laughed that deep laugh that seemed to hurt her eyes just by the sound. “Don’t Be embarrassed. It’s a common misconception.” He laughed. “I think it’s because we pick.” “You... what?” She asked, as she accidentally almost stepped on a bright orange cat that blended into the tile. “Don’t... don’t step on her. She’s a lot more dangerous than she looks.” “Duly noted.” She said, her voice a little higher than she thought it should be. “But uh, what did you mean by ‘pick’?” “Well we see gender differently than people do. We’re born from a ray of sunlight or a stray leaf or something. Those things don’t really tell you what your gender is, so we figure it out. And yes, a lot of us are girls but a lot of us also aren’t so I figured it out and I’m a boy, see?” “I... I really don’t but I’ll take your word for it.” He sure did seem to laugh a lot. “So do you know why Apollo called you here? I love the boss but he never tells me anything.” “I’m not supposed to uh, tell you. Can I ask you a question?” “Go ahead.” “Do you have a name? I know you’re... well most of you have names right?” “Most of us, but I don’t. I was never given one. But that’s okay, really. Well, here it is. It should be sunset soon. Have fun with your dad, Kendra!” He said, leaving her at the base of a huge, ornate marble throne big enough for three people to sit in comfortably. “Yikes. I’ll try.” That laugh again. The brightness was annoying. He was way too kind and fit the phrase “sunny disposition” way too well. Kendra could see why her dad liked him so much. The palace soon dimmed enough that she could take the glasses off and the walls just gave off a warm glow. He was coming. “Kendra, honey! What’s going on?” She turned her head. Oh jeez. There he was. Tank top, sunglasses, jeans, and that annoyingly flawless dark skin that she hadn’t quite inherited. Suddenly all the acne on her face felt like it was steadily growing bigger. “Heeeyyy... dad.” She said, awkwardly accepting his hug. He pulled away and sat down on the big marble chair and motioned for her to follow. “I know it’s not another couple months until summer but...” “You need a favor.” She finished. “What? No, I...” “Cool it, dad. We all know the only reason you ever call us over is to ask for favors. When you actually wanna see me you come to my house.” “Hmmm. Fair enough.” He said, suddenly seeming lost. “What’s it about? Need a monster taken care of? I’m a musician, so I don’t know about that. But you know I’ll do what you want.” “I need you to take a message.” He said, seriously. He snapped his fingers and a spirit nearby with long flowy hair placed a scroll into his hand and then went back to her business. “Uncle Hades never answers his phone.” Apollo said, placing the scroll in his daughter’s hands. “Wait, dad, you want me to... that’s insane! Isn’t this what Hermes is for?” Kendra asked, standing up in shock. “Listen, honey, calm down please. I’m asking something huge. Really truly huge. Probably the biggest favor I’ve ever asked. I can’t just send Hermes. You’re my pet. My prodigy. If i send you...” “If this is to woo some dead Hollywood actress dad, I swear...” “It’s much more important than that. This is... for him.” She looked over where he was looking and saw the sun chariot. Various light spirits were combing the giant horses and polishing the wheels, laughing and talking as they worked. The one that seemed to be the brightest was the one that had led Kendra in and brought her here. He noticed them looking and threw a smile at them and Kendra artificially returned it. “The nameless nymph you’re infatuated with?” She asked. “Why should I do it for him?” “Because I’ve moved past infatuation, and I think you remember what happens when I do that.” A silent understanding passed between them after she read the letter and it was decided that Kendra would leave at dawn. “I wish I could learn to play that.” Apollo looked over. His current boyfriend was sitting on the arm of the throne, a look in his eyes that seemed to say “I can’t believe I got into a relationship this jerk. It’s amazing.” Apollo put his guitar down and returned the look. Something must have seemed off though. “Is something wrong?” That look of genuine concern was almost enough to send the god into tears. Almost enough to tempt him to undo the entire world order just to keep that face with him forever. But he’s an Olympian. There will be no tears today. “I just had troubling dreams, that’s all.” “That’s not good. Do you want to talk?” He pulled the god of music into an embrace and stood on his knees on the throne to do it. And although Apollo was several inches taller and thousands of years older, he suddenly felt small in those arms with his head on his nymph’s shoulder. Why is it have to be a nature spirit this time? Why? When was Hades going to get back to him? “No, I’d rather not talk about it, okay?” “Okay.” And rather than sleep they spent the night talking. Apollo put the guitar in his partner’s hands and tried and failed to teach him how to place his hands. They laughed and held each other and were so tired but somehow the thought of sleep never came. As far as the spirit knew, there would be all of eternity to sleep in Apollo’s arms. More than once Apollo thought that sunny laugh and the look of absolute trust in his eyes was going to kill him. If only gods could die too. “I’m having too much fun, but it’s almost sunrise.” Apollo said. “Would you go help the others now?” “Whatever you say my lord.” He teased. Just as he turned out of sight, a mop of curly blonde hair with a pale skinny body attached to it came into view. “Hermes. Where’s...” “The kid is fine.” Hermes assured his brother. “I brought her home.” Apollo took a breath and put his sunglasses on his head. “What did Hades say?” “Always to the point. Well he’ll do it but there are two conditions.” “Only two?” “Don’t take that tone, sun man. First condition: you can’t ask for something like this again until your age doubles.” Apollo swallowed at the idea of waiting four thousand years for another favor from Hades but said nothing about it. Instead just asked what the second condition would be. Hermes looked uncharacteristically sympathetic, which was never a good sign. “If he decides to do what you think he will...” “I know he will.” “Yeah... if you say so. If he decides to, then you can’t interact with him without approval from the first six. All of them. And then conditions have to be set.” Apollo’s heart sank, but he had expected something like this. “Tell Hades I agree. And quickly. I think it’s time.” The nymph came running in just as Apollo vanished. “Ready?” He asked excitedly. Apollo smiled, not a touch of his panic showing. “Every day is so new to you, isn’t it? Hey, would you want to take your turn today?” The nymph looked a little taken aback. “But sir, the noon...” Apollo fought to not let his voice crack as he said “There are other nymphs of the noontime, babe. I think they’ll survive without you for today.” Or... forever. Prophecy. Everything inside him screamed for him to fight it. But you can’t escape a prophecy. Fighting it just makes it happen in a more painful way. Why would he make his latest true love suffer more than the others? This one won’t turn into a plant, or die too young, or fall into Tartarus. No. He deserves better. Apollo is going to make the right decision for once. They rode mostly in silence for much of the morning. Apollo felt his friend and partner lean against his shoulder in the spring sun. At last he spoke. “You understand how prophecies work, Thomas?” “Who’s Thomas?” Apollo looked over and his nymph saw steaming tears in his eyes. He kissed him on the lips for a moment. Then another. Then he pulled away. “I’m so sorry. I love you.” And the god of prophecy kicked. There was no scream. Just a look of complete betrayal as the light spirit realized he could no longer fly. That exact look that had been haunting Apollo’s dreams for months. He suspected it would never leave. It took an entire day for him to fall. The entire time he tried to forgive. Wondered why Apollo had called him a name when he had none. Used his soul and mind while he still had it, for nymphs don’t have mortal souls and only become plants and streams at their deaths. Near the end was when he began to scream. If light could cry he would. This couldn’t end. There was too much. Apollo, for all that is good in the world don’t let him fall. There was so much trust. I trusted you. You were mine. We sang together in the dead of night and I forgave you for so many things and you said I was home. Does that mean nothing? Does that mean... “Hello. I suspect you have some questions.” “What?” “That’s usually the first question. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Thanatos.” The dark figure in a casual suit with a clipboard held out his right hand and Thomas, for that’s the only name he had been called yet, took it, very confused and let the strange man help him up. “What...” He began shaking. “There.” Thanatos pointed. Thomas looked around and had to put a hand over his mouth to hold himself back from screaming. There was his own body slowly dissolving into sunflower seeds in the meadow they were standing in. “I’m sorry to be rude, but why!?” he yelled. “Why am I still...” “Existing? Apollo. He put in a special request to give you a human soul. And a chance at reincarnation, if you’ll take it.” A sudden realization dawned on him. “He saved me. By... killing me.” “Will you please come with me? I’m a very busy god. I don’t have all day, and if we don’t get you down there you won’t remember who you are for much longer.” Hades handed him a cup and Thomas looked down at the milky white water. “I don’t usually do this in person so it’s sort of a shame you won’t remember this.” Hades said sadly. “The Lethe.” Thomas said. “It’s a bit more disgusting than I imagined it.” “That’s what they all say.” Said the daemon with the pile of cups as she lazy scratched her head. He looked down and scooped up a cupful that had as small an amount of debris in it as he could manage. “If I have to experience this big of a change, at least I won’t remember it.” Thomas said. He drank it down as fast as he could. It was cold and refreshing, like drinking ice water on a hot day. He felt his memories drifting away. But no crying now. He had a whole lifetime to do that. A lifetime. A life. That will be... nice. What’s... name. Thomas. Apollo. Light. Blank. Light. Scared. What’s... I can’t remember. I don’t know... words. Colors. Light. Scared. New. Nothing. Warm. Safe. Arms. Human. Sleep. “I miss him.” “You Miss at least ten people at any given time, brother.” “But he’s a public figure. It’s impossible to forget about him.” “Checkmate.” “Artemis! You cheated!” “No, you’re just bad at chess.” “Hey, jerk.” “What do you want, Hermes?” Read this. And I’m coming with you. Apollo read the note and his eyes grew wider with every word. “This is actually real? You’re not just forging dad’s handwriting again!?” Apollo asked excitedly. “All real, dude. We’ll go together.” Hermes never feared anybody actually squeezing him so hard he might pop before, but this felt pretty close to that now. “Next!” Apollo and Hermes came forward and introduced themselves with their fake names and gave their fake stories. Thomas smiled and Apollo couldn’t help but think about how good his human form looked up close. The hug was torturous, but those two seconds filled his heart to bursting. He saved the crying for after the event was over and cried into his half-brother’s arms. He was finally ready to truly move on. His former partner has a life. He’s happy. Hes moving on from heartbreaks. He’s making more humans happy than Apollo ever could with more kindness than he could ever muster. This was the best possible ending. They were going to be okay. Human. It was all so incredibly human.

#thomas sanders #apollo #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #roman wrote a thing #thomas sanders au

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