#and to hear their little daydreams like playing hide and seek with us and dressing papa haitham up like a princess just makes me smile | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fragileizywriting · 3 years ago

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dancing

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“Adrien!” She whispers, grinning at him. She’s littered with freckles, all across her cheekbones and nose, and he watches the constellations shift on her skin as she continues to grin at him with stars in her eyes.

“Hurry, hurry! Get inside! Someone’s going to see you one of these days,” He whispers back, but he sits up in bed, his fingers already nervously picking at lint from the heavy blanket. He wants— no, he needs— to tell her today. He needs to tell her everything, because he doesn’t want to get into the problem of not having enough time to tell her. He doesn’t want to miss his chance.

But he’s nervous.

“Not if we stay quiet,” Mischief swirls in her eyes, completely unaware that he’s vibrating with anxiety on the mattress. “No one will know I’m here.”

“And how are you so sure, Mari?”

“Because I make sure to take all the apples from the tree that fall whenever I climb it, so that it looks like no one’s been here after all.” Oh, doesn’t she sound proud? He can’t help but grin at her when she smiles again, holding up two giant and red fruits in her small palms. They match the color of her dress, even though she’s wearing a simple smock with a decorative bow on the back— the outfit of the daughter of two bakers, after all. Her shoes look muddy— her apron looks dusty— her hair is always so full of leaves— but she is beautiful and it makes him try his best not to kick himself as he looks at her. She leaves her shoes and apron by the window, making sure to take careful and noiseless steps on the rug underneath his bed so she doesn’t alert anyone in the house that there’s movement in the room.

He watches her with a smile that matches her own, accepting the apple she gives him with a cupped hand, holding it close.

It’s just an apple. It’s warm from outside, even though it’s early morning and the sun has just started to rise. He’s had breakfast, alone, a porridge soup with bread that had tasted stale without his favorite honey. It’ll be a couple more hours until a maid passes by to tidy up his neglected room, but there’s nothing to clean anymore now that he can’t get out of bed. And just last week he’d been playing with his friends outside… “You know, I’ve never actually eaten one of these before. They fall all the time in the gardens but every time I grab one it’s been on the ground for too long, so they’re kind of rotten.”

“Well, you’re in luck! The best apples are the ones directly from the tree before they fall out,” The bed shifts as she joins him on the mattress. He looks up to her as she settles down, trying his best not to memorize for the rest of his life how she looks so happy and soft. “That’s when they’re the sweetest, you know.”

He loves sweet things. Does she know that? Or is he just getting his hopes up?

“The doctor said I should be eating a lot of fruit,” He turns the apple to look at the glossy surface. “He says it might be something to do with my spine which is why I can’t stand for long periods of time anymore without feeling dizzy. He says that the more fruit I eat, the more ‘structured your bones will become’.”

She giggles at the way he inflects his words when he pretends to speak like the doctor— and it’s lovely, so lovely, to hear her laugh. If he could keep it with him always, he’s almost positive he’d be able to get out of bed on his own without fainting. “That doesn’t sound right, but I’m not a doctor. I’m just a witch.”

“Well, Madame Witch,” He grins, “What do you prescribe me? What potions and fortunes can you throw my way so that I can get out of bed?”

“Well, I’ve read that apples have magical properties,” Her eyes always get so big and doe-like when she talks about magic. It’s endearing and so lovely— he tries his best not to combust on the spot when her eyes go round and glassy, hints of magic swirling at the surface, looking at her as she turns the apple over in her hands in the way he did. “Apples last for long times. You can make a lot of antidotes with them. There’s a whole section on apples in the green book, the one with the different handwriting.”

“Are they Tikki’s favorite fruit?”

“I have no idea,” Marinette answers honestly. “I don’t know anything about her but I know that she trusts me to keep trying. I’d like to think she loves apples the way I do— I always forget that apples exist until I see them and I remember how tasty they are. They’re everywhere.”

“You know, the books you have say that they represent regrowth.” He knows this, because he’s read most of them— he’s helped her lots with understanding Latin, and being able to read. Her French is much more advanced, but she struggles still to read the swirls and curves of Latin handwriting in those books. They were gifted to her by Tikki one day, in the middle of the night, just like a fairy— the spines decorated with paint and designs that he catches her following with a digit when she’s drifting off into a daydream.

“Regrow your spine with an apple,” She hums with a little giggle. “With the amount of apples here in Paris, I’m pretty sure you could grow a hundred thousand more.”

“No need for special magic spells,” He laughs with her, making sure to keep it as quiet as possible so that no one outside hears it. “Just apple.”

Something silly sparks in her eyes. “Oh, dear patient, I see you have bad humors? Here is a recipe for that— a cure-all— something that will revolutionize medicine as we know it: apple.”

“What about your phlegm? Have you checked it recently? Not too much of it, I hope? An apple will help.”

“Excess of black bile? We cannot have that— you know that will cause you great problems later on in life. Here, take an apple.”

“Not to mention a serious deficiency of yellow bile? Apple.” The both of them erupt into giggles. He watches her, so wary, his fingers drumming along the surface of the fruit, thinking to himself when the best moment would be. “Marinette?”

“I can’t wait until you’re on your feet again.” She bites into hers. “There are so many things I want to show you. You’d think that the world can’t change in a week, but it can— you blink and suddenly every leaf is worth talking about with you, Adrien. Every flower I find I want to bring to you.”

He likes it when she’s here. She likes it when it’s just him and her. It’s a little selfish, he knows, to want all of her attention on him, but he likes being able to have her here and only focus on the two of them. The only other times he could see her were during group hangouts— and, of course, he loves being able to see all of his friends and play hide and seek with them— but being bedridden allows him to get her full attention— and he clings to the moments like they’re all he has. “What’s changed?”

“Nino’s been trying to petition your father to come let him visit you,” She speaks softly. “He misses you a lot. Luka, too— he really wants to come here and visit, and he’d be able to climb the tree so easily to see you, but his mother just gave birth, he’s been so busy that he can hardly find the time to come up to shore anymore. He’s an older brother now.”

“Really?” Adrien’s eyes widen. “Already? But he’d told us only two weeks ago—”

“He told us he’d kept it a secret,” She shrugs. “I guess he was worried that we would find it weird. I have no idea— but Luka looked really excited at the idea of being an older brother.”

He tilts his head with a knowing look. “Have you talked to him outside the group?”

She nods as she bites again. There are spots of apple juice starting to collect in her palms, and she wipes them on her smock with nowhere else to wipe her hands on— Marinette, as usual, is completely oblivious to the amount of courage Luka must’ve had to speak to her without any of their friends near. He must’ve been shaking to the point his tail rattled— but Marinette probably took it as shivers. “A couple of times. He’s still really shy.”

“That doesn’t sound like him,” But it does. He’s seen the way Luka stammers— has tried to get him out of the habit. They’ve both practiced confessing to Marinette on each other, ending up in a fit of giggles when someone had walked in on them professing their love to each other. Nino still isn’t convinced otherwise.

“I managed to get a couple of sentences out of him, last time,” She plays with the end of her braid. “He told me he wants me to come see her before anyone else does. Her name is Juleka.”

“Juleka,” He repeats with a smile, trying not to feel a little silly at her confession. So, Luka’s been trying to tell her what he’s been trying to tell her, too. But he’s chickening out. Just like Adrien is. “That’s a pretty name.”

“She’s the light of the family, apparently!”

“Are you going to go see her?”

“I was hoping that we could go together.” She lowers her hands back to her lap with a smile. “Luka’s your best friend, too.”

“That might take a couple of months,” He frowns to himself. “Who knows if I’ll be able to swim again this year.”

“I think Luka would be very happy for you to be there. We’ll figure something out, just like we always do, right?” Her eyes are stars again. “I want you to be there, Adrien. I think that’s something we could work towards, right?”

“I’ll do it.”

“Good!” She grins. “Until then, an apple a day will keep that doctor away.”

He bites into his apple.

-*-

Chat naps.

Chat naps because there’s nothing to do.

He’s done everything he had to do today, and even more some— he’s captured the bad guy, he’s tied him up for questioning, he’s taken his stupid wanted poster off the castle gates while dragging the guy back into the castle by his ankle, ignoring the way he kicked and screamed bloody murder at the top of his lungs. The man is a liar, a criminal, and a murderer— but wasn’t feeling all that brave when Chat had managed to get his hands around the man and wrestled him back into the castle. The days are full of catching and hunting and the thrill of a chase— his nose is stained with ichor and blood of those he needs to bring for his father.

But he naps.

He likes napping in his mother’s throne, curled up into a ball in his cat form, lazing on the giant and massive chair that always somehow feels warm like the tree it was carved out of is still alive and well. His mother’s throne is made out of Earthen trees— a luxury that he understands is rare. Unlike his father’s throne, cut from trees from this realm, and offers nothing of solace unless given heat by another living being, his mother’s throne is always warm and comfortable. He sleeps contently, curled into the smallest ball he can, shoving his nose into his tail and tucking his paws underneath him.

The candles flicker. They don’t provide much warmth, not in this form, but the tiny noises of kindled wicks are pleasant to his ears as they burn through the wax. There’s the small pitter-patter of a dripping candle— the sound reminiscent of a clock— and it keeps him company as he dozes. There’s nothing else in the throne room with him, aside from the candles, aside from the throne that feels alive.

There are temple bells ringing outside of the castle.

His ears swivel to the sound, even as he lazily turns, listening to the ancient metal tang of the ghastly dome reverberate against the stained glass windows. With one eye inching open, he watches the scattering of green and gold shadows illuminate the runestone floor, taking his time flipping onto his side and watching the throne room come to life.

It’s not often that the temple bells ring and shake everything in the surrounding area, but it’s often enough that he doesn’t strange the deep and fluttering feeling it gives his chest. The bells are to discourage wandering souls that have escaped the forest, and have escaped phantom hunts, from entering the houses of demons and causing panic. Souls hear the bell and quiver— they either get frozen in fear, perfect for capturing— or are sent back into the safe haven of the forest where they are to roam and get lost in until it is time for another phantom hunt.

The bells ring once every few hours, for two days, before dissipating with a final ring until the next year.

It has begun for this year. It is August already? The years move by too quickly— or perhaps he’s grown accustomed to living with two gods who barely recognize time, his father notwithstanding.

The shadows swirl in the throne room, and Chat watches with mild interest, licking at his paws to even out his fur. No poison is enough to maim him, no more painful attempts to turn him into the blank and white figure his father spoke about, now that he is at the age of twenty— but poison still stings his tongue with a bitter taste that makes him want to gag— but he cleans and cleans. He is a class above the rest, trained and perfected into the perfect chaos machine that makes his father’s eyes proud.

He likes making his dad proud.

The bile tastes awful.

He cleans until he’s tired of it— settling down back onto the throne with heavy lids. The runestone floor glows a heavy purple from the bells— swirls and thick prominent lines with Latin etched into the stone that he’s tried to make sense of with varying degrees of success. Either the stones are misplaced, or they are simply nonsense words from a language past his recollection— the words in that combination do not match up to anything he recognizes.

Every time he’s asked his parents, they gloss over it— Plagg, of course, gives him a different answer every time he asks. He’s given up trying to understand it, and is under the assumption that they actually do not know either.

He scurries to a sitting position when another bell rings.

He’s never heard this particular bell before.

Louder, cleaner— it isn’t a temple bell but rather a singing one. It is higher pitched than the massive ones outside that echo into the castle and down the halls— this one, instead, cuts straight through him and seems to rattle inside his soul as if looking for a place to stay, singing in the hollow spaces of his bones and mingling with his magic as if trying to coax him to do something. He blinks in alarm at the runestones, which glow a lofty green, and the bell rings over and over like it’s being constantly struck with a light hand.

It feels… it feels right to hear it.

He almost purrs at the sound of it, which is even more alarming, because he’s never heard it before in his life, but it soothes him.

The runestones shift like an old puzzle trying to assemble itself back together, and the old Latin words shift along the floor with them. He watches, transfixed, as the sound of stone moving against the echoey and airy tone of the new bell clash— the stone settles to form a perfectly flat circle pedestal that is raised a few centimeters.

Chat shifts back into his normal form so he can get closer and inspect the words, eyes widening at the phrases. “What— what the hell—”

Manibus date lilia plenis. Give lilies with both of your hands?

Qui per tutelam ostium. Protect the one who goes through the door?

How bizarre. He’s never seen two phrases completely disjointed before, but it’s certainly better than the absolute mess it was prior to shifting. He follows the words that circle around the flattened stone, trying to make sense of what he sees, reading the words over and over.

“I recognize that noise,” The door at the end of the throne room opens. He looks behind him to see his father, who looks down at him, and then the floor, looking for an answer he currently does not possess. “I did not imagine I would hear it again any time soon. Did you do this?”

“No. I didn’t do this at all.” He looks back at it. “Any of this. That bell, too, started before the words shifted.”

A portal opens, and Chat— the great and formidable Chat Noir, hunter of the damned and enemy of the sinner— steps back slowly from what he sees, getting closer to his father who walks at a languid pace up to the pedestal.

The portal is empty, like usual when they are portals to Earth, and he catches himself confused and sniffing the smoke that starts to drift through it.

“Chimaeram,” His father braces a hand on his shoulder. “It seems as if someone is trying to summon a demon.”

“I can tell—” Although the bell is certainly a surprise. “This entire time there’s been a summoning portal in the throne room?”

“I suppose I never had the time to tell you,” Plagg grins. There is something else swirling in his father’s eyes as he looks back down. “Perhaps you should go deal with the matters they require.”

“I’ll miss dinner,” His feet dig into the floor as his father gently tries to push him closer to the runestones. His ears flatten against his head as he all-but climbs his father’s shoulder to get away from the portal.

“You’ll eat enough there.”

“I— uh— haven’t made my bed.” Formidable Chat Noir… countless demonic wars…

Plagg snorts. “As if that’s ever stopped you before from neglecting to clean your room. I’ll get a maid to do it.”

“I’m— uh— oh, man, Dad I’m just so tired.”

“This summoning won’t take long. In fact, by the time you come back, you’ll have wished it had lasted longer.”

Wait, huh? “Hold on, do you know the person who’s summoning me?”

“I have an idea,” Plagg shrugs, humor glittering in those neon eyes of his. “Don’t tell your mother. I’d want this to be a surprise. You understand, don’t you?”

Who could this possibly be? Is it someone that the three of them know?

“The last time I went to Earth, it was wet. It rained for days. I hate the rain.” Not to mention that humans are obnoxiously frightened when they make eye contact with him. Such bad manners!

“Chat Noir, enjoy yourself. You’ll be dry soon enough.” His father— the king of hell— gently pushes him towards the portal that continues to smoke. “Now, go. Try not to start apocalypses. I need humans for a little while longer. Have some fun!”

Ugh. He hates going through portals. “Fine. I’ll be back soon. Don’t go redecorating my room, I know you’re itching to make me a better writing desk.”

He drops through the portal before he can see his father bark out a laugh.

-*-

Marinette screams.

“What the— ow— stop!” The man— no, the demon— flinches from her hands. Latin. The demon speaks Latin. She doesn’t stop smacking at his arms as she goes into hysterics. “What the hell? Stop! Ow!”

“What are— who are— what are you doing here?” She squeals in French on accident, waffling between hitting him more and backing away completely. At a stern glare given to her, she clams up, quickly folding her hands behind her and stepping away. She watches the demon dust off his pants with enough apprehension to fill her with unease, shoving her dusty and chalky hands back into the pockets of her apron.

“‘What am I doing here?’ You’re the one who summoned me and then started to hit me when I showed up, which, ow. What the absolute hell? Who does that? You should be put on a banned list of summoning— that’s no way to treat a demon.”

“Sweet Tikki,” She gasps. He speaks French as well? “That exists?”

“Depends. You are the one who summoned me, right?”

“I—” She clicks her jaw shut. “I didn’t summon you.”

“You most certainly did.” He huffs. “That’s why I came out of the portal.”

“That’s not a portal, y-you ass, that’s a rune.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “Do you always solve your problems with curses, witch? Verbal and physical? Your slaps will sting for days. And besides, that is most definitely not a rune. I wouldn’t have been able to come out of it if that were the case.”

What’s going on? She doesn’t have time for this! She’s busy— looking around her for at least a bucket or two, producing nothing— she tries her magic to make a bucket or at least a fountain— but the magic is solid in her palms, almost as if afraid to move another centimeter. She turns back to the demon who looks with absolute no hurry to help, and gestures to him to speak. “What do you want?”

“What?” His eyes snap up to meet hers again and she tries her best not to shake in her boots. Electric, hypnotic green eyes stare at her with enough intent to burn her to the quick, but instead of any genuine anger, he looks her over as if he’s trying to guess what to do next. “‘What do I want’? Don’t get snippy with me, you’re the one who summoned me!”

“Well, go back! I— I didn’t mean to summon you,” She tries not to cry. “My magic won’t move and I— I think it’s because I summoned you by accident— go home!”

“Okay, well, what were you even trying to do in the first place with your magic? Are you dancing?”

“Dancing?” She goes into hysterics again. “You— you think I’m— this— dancing?”

“Well, I don’t know a lot about humans I’ll be honest, even though my mom’s tried to teach me a lot there’s still a lot I don’t know, so maybe you’re doing a fire dance, or—” He pauses as she bites her lip to stop herself from crying. Something about his whole demeanor changes within an instant, like he’s deflated— he’s still looking at her with those cutting eyes, but they almost look sad as she takes her in. No doubt he’s mourning his freedom for the next however minutes as she tries to shove him back through the portal while still dealing with the fire spreading. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“No,” She bites her lip. What would be the point in lying? How could anyone be okay in this situation?

“What happened?”

Oh, Tikki— not even a simple protection spell works from her hands anymore! What is the point of her being the most prolific witch and her champion when all she does is mess everything up? And now she— she has a— a demon attempting to console her? Her eyes swell with tears that threaten to fall down her cheeks, and she spins, facing back to the burning house so that he doesn’t see it. “I— I was trying to write a rune down— but I ended up summoning you and— and I definitely don’t need a demon right now!”

“I can help—”

“No—” She whirrs back to him, “Absolutely not! I know your kind. You make promises to help but end up making fires worse— end up flooding the area when people ask for a cup of water— crush people with solid gold when they ask for more money.”

The demon pouts like a child at her, crossing his thick arms across his chest. “Oy! Those are pretty mean stereotypes, you know. I know you’re upset— though I still don’t actually know what you’re upset about— but that’s no reason for you to take it out on me, you know.”

She doesn’t have the energy to look surprised or confused by his very undemonlike personality. Instead, her vision wavers and goes blurry as she squeezes her eyes shut— ignoring the way that even with her eyes close, it’s still bright enough for it to be considered sunlight. “Please, I beg of you, please leave— I can’t do anything right. Least of all now— you’ll just make things all the more worse— go back home and— and l-leave me in this mess.”

“Let me try to help you. Please. I don’t like seeing people cry— it makes me feel useless. What did you try doing?”

“I tried saving my house,” She points with her face buried in her other hand. “This— this village doesn’t enjoy being in the presence of witches— and I thought— I thought I would be fine, because I’ve been helping with the sick and the ones who cannot afford food— but I was wrong. They called me names for the years we’ve been here, but we stayed because it was otherwise peaceful, and being this close to the ocean was good for my— my nerves—”

And the nightmares. Being closer to the ocean and being closer to Luka helped with the nightmares. Nightmares of empty beds and empty rooms and broken apple trees. Unmarked graves and missing golden-haired bodies.

The hysterics make it hard to breathe. “They’ve pushed my family out of the village— they’ve gone North to live with other family members and I promised I would work on our house to be perfect and fire-proof but I was too late— and— and now—”

And now her house is burning to the ground.

Is a Ladybug truly that terrifying? To send a mob to her house and try to smoke her out and send her packing to a larger town where they’re more accustomed to a witch? Many people don’t believe that one single witch should have the power to heal and create good fortune, it’s true— but how does any of it mean anything if she can’t have any of the good fortunes herself? She can’t even save her own house from burning— how much of a failure is she?

The demon stops, looking at her for a long time. No doubt this man has no idea how to console a woman crying in front of him, because his mouth pinches into a fine line that makes him look all the more terrifying. “You messed up the direction of your curves.”

Is that his attempt to make her feel better? What an absolute brute. “Wh—”

“Were you trying to do a protection spell? You ended up sending a destruction portal instead.”

She blinks back tears, startled enough in the conversation to respond. “I— I don’t mess up on things like that.”

“But you did. I’m standing in front of you because of it.” The demon looks behind him to the portal, a mass of blinding gold hair glinting in the firelight. It’s the color of spun gold— a beautiful color she can’t help but stare at. “You’re supposed to curve your lines to the right, not the left.”

“Oh. Uhm.”

“Well. At least you got me out of it.” He shrugs, looking back at her with a smile. “Could’ve been worse, honestly, it’s a good thing I was the one to step through the portal instead of whatever else hell has to offer.”

He speaks as if he’s any better than them.

“Not to worry, Princess, your knight is here to help,” He walks past her, towards what should be considered the front door of the house. Instead, it is nothing but flames and smoke, but if the demon feels any pain from the heat, he doesn’t react. He turns to face her, his smile almost inviting, as if he’s trying to convince her to follow him through the flames.

“Wait. ‘Princess’?” Is he making fun of her?

“That’s ‘night’ as in the night sky, by the way. You know. Pun.” He lifts his hands up, palms facing her, gesturing to the color. His arms look thick in that white shirt of his that he rolls up to his elbows to keep them clean, inspecting the damage of the house in front of them. His forearms are a beautiful gradient of tan and golden skin to pure voidless black, with long powerful black claws that look like they can tear anything to shreds with a simple flick of the wrist. She watches him with confusion, watches him with curiosity, watches with wide-open eyes. “It’s very nice to meet you, Princess—”

She startles, watching everything around her burn and turn to green fire.

The heat that licks up the sides of her house turns into an eruption of hypnotic green, as green as the demon’s eyes in front of her, and she finds it hard to focus on anything at all except the way he smiles and introduces his fangs. There’s a sudden wind that cuts through them both and scatters her hair in all directions, blasting the green fire up into a mushroom cloud that is stories and stories taller than it would ever be normally. The night sky is covered in green light and grey smog, completely and totally dominating the landscape.

The heat and light are enough to hurt her eyes, and she flinches back, shielding her face with a hand.

A bell rings. Loud, grave, almost omnipresent— the bell sounds like something she’d hear at a forgotten temple. At once her body is filled with dread and fear from the noise as if it were instinct to be afraid of a simple noise, but it fills the area with terror. Even though she’s close enough to the fire to burn, all she feels is chill and frost.

Gothic.

Horrific.

The fires recede from the walls of her house in two more blinks of the bell— turn into embers on the roof— the windows are completely intact like they hadn’t been singed in the first place.

She sags. Drops her jaw. And tries her best not to collapse.

“That’s better, isn’t it?”

“You— you saved my house.”

“I did!”

“You saved my house by making the fire bigger.”

“Well, I can only undo things I’ve done. So. If I make it so that it’s my fire that’s burning your house down, I can just put out my fires.” He shrugs as if it’s obvious.

“What— or rather, who— are you?”

“Ah, right! Sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Chat Noir,” He bows, folding neatly at the waist, taking one of her hands in his to press a kiss into it, and all of a sudden she understands.

Sort of.

Something in her brain breaks.

“Chat— Chat Noir?”

“A fan of my work?” He looks back up at her with a grin. His fangs are wicked and sharp, but she doesn’t feel fear from it but rather curiosity.

“You’re Chat Noir? The—”

“The newest one, yes.” He’s towering— large— almost as tall as Luka— he straightens back up.

Sweet Tikki, everything about this man is large. He’s long arms with longer legs, dwarfing her in height like she’s a child as he looks down at her. He is pure strength and pure power, even as he gives his shoulders a stiff roll once he drops her hand. She cradles it to her chest, blinking at him with curiosity.

“The real Chat Noir? King Plagg’s champion?”

“Have you met that many demons trying to pretend to be me?” He lifts an expressive brow.

“Prove it—” She sucks in a breath. “Prove— prove to me. That you’re him.”

Has she… summoned him on complete accident? The most powerful demon in all the world, dropping in at her literal feet, cursing up a storm about how his ass hurts? What sort of luck is this? Is this Tikki’s doing?

“I just saved your house,” He deadpans. “You need more than that?”

“Just trust me and prove it.”

“You want me to do a magic trick?” He snorts, but there’s not a lot of humor in it, as confusion slowly starts to form on his face. No doubt he’s wondering as to why she’s asking him to trust her, or something of the sort. “There’s not much that I can do to show you who I am, I mean, it’s not like I have a certificate of some kind or something—”

She opens up her magic.

She opens it as much as she can— it’s a little stiff, since she doesn’t do this often, and she imagines that there are creases in her magic like she’s opening up a bolt of cloth that’s been pressed and folded in a particular way. Her magic is woozy and not at all in a uniform shape from the amount of magic she’d put into opening the portal, but Chat straightens at the feeling of her tentatively brushing up against him. It almost looks ridiculous at how ramrod straight he goes, his tail lashing behind him and his ears going completely stiff.

Their magic interlock with each other. Chat’s magic molds hers back into shape, pressing and ironing her into swirls that should be more accustomed to her magic. She exhales shakily, pushing and pulling against him, feeling whole as they balance each other out. Every time she pushes into him, he pushes back— every time he pulls, she pulls just as strongly.

It’s his turn to drop his jaw. “You—”

“My name is Marinette,” She wipes at her eyes, feeling giddy at how perfect they fit together. They’re two puzzle pieces. “I’m— uhm— I’m the Queen’s champion.”

“You’re Ladybug.” His eyes widen. “You— you’re my mother’s champion?”

“Mother?”

“Hold on—” He tilts his head. “The bell. That was you?”

“What bell? The bell we just heard? That was your bell, wasn’t it?”

“Not that bell,” He waves his hand. “That bell only plays when I really use my Chat Noir magic, but we know that already, right?”

“Uhm.”

“I’m talking about the bell I heard when the portal opened. That bell. You used your Ladybug powers to open that portal.”

“I— I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She sounds so weak with argument, following him closer to the front door. “M-my magic doesn’t make a bell noise.”

“It sounded so pure. So clean. So— so divine.”

She steams red. “D-divine? What does that mean?”

He turns back to the house, ignoring her. “Are you telling me someone tried to burn my Ladybug’s house down?”

His? What? “I—”

“Oh. Oh, that won’t do at all, will it?” Electric green eyes scan the area around them, looking for people. He looks back at her after a moment and smiles so handsomely that Marinette feels herself start to steam red at the sheer absurdity of the night. “Well, fellow prodigy, I’ll help you out. What is it that you desire? Anything in the world, dear Princess, since you’ve successfully summoned your other half.”

-*-

She loves the festival.

And even more so, she loves the people it brings.

North, south— people from the east are here, as well, congregated in their village and making it full to the brim. Witches, humans, lots of naga, and a few demons that Chat has sniffed menacingly at, too, are all here at the festival and the amount of traffic is enough to make her squeal. The field is big, and massive, a good ten acres across, but even still, it’s almost cramped with the amount of people that occupy the space for the week-long festival. She might have to make new charms. She might not actually have enough.

Hopefully she can remember.

There are people everywhere populating the field, and she leads Chat by the wrist through the throng of people as they continue to mingle and celebrate. The wagons flank them on every side, having made a market on one half of the field, with endless rows of market wagons and pitched tents in their attempt to sell. The marketplace is filled with torches as merchants sell oddities of all kinds— and her eyes snag on a couple of fabrics that are alluring to the eyes, before Chat snorts behind her and pushes her forward with a gentle and massive hand.

They could just go through the other half, instead of going through the market— the other half is allotted for the dancing, the singing, the music that pounds and fiddles through the crowd like a hypnotic syren’s call— and, of course, it’s home of the fire— but she’s being a little selfish and is enjoying the sights and sounds and smells of the marketplace. She tries her hardest not to let her feet dig into the trodden grass when she sees a cart selling various amounts of cheese, and has to be pushed along gently with Chat’s knowing smile when there’s a cart for more honey.

Meanwhile, Chat’s hands haven’t stopped twitching to go join the dancing festival on the other side.

Pyromaniac.

She’s so thankful she’s made the charms.

She’s put a couple on herself, just in case— she’d tied one on each of her boots, hidden away from Chat’s knowing eyes, just to give him the impression that she’s not afraid of being accidentally burnt from his shifty hands.

“What is it that you wanted to show me, again?” He doesn’t yell, but he does talk loud, even as he leans over to talk into her ear when they finally pull away from a vendor that’s making it his mission to sell her a new sash. It’s hard for them to hear, and she’s glad she’s put a muffler spell on her familiar so that his ears don’t continue to ring for the next ten months from all the noise.

“I found something I think you’d like,” She gestures back to him, just to make it more obvious what she’s saying. If he misunderstood or didn’t hear what she’s said, he doesn’t voice it— at least, she thinks— instead, clasping his hand with hers.

Oh, it’s perfect. What she wouldn’t give to hold his hand for the rest of time! She tries not to look at the size difference between their hands, nor the difference in color, with his blackened hand and palm wrapped around her lily-white one, and tries her best not to shy away as she continues to walk slowly through the masses of people.

She leads him to the back of the field.

Or tries, at least.

It’s slow work making her way there because people stop to thank her and ask for her blessings when they recognize her. There’s lots of gesturing to her dress and her lack of any actual witch hat, to which all she does is laugh— she’s never been fond of the giant hats because they’re always falling and curtaining her vision— and tries to make polite conversation with those that stop her. At times, when someone really wants to speak to her, she puts them all in a bubble to let them speak more clearly, muffling the noise of the bonfire and the drums even more, giving Chat a bit of reprieve. Chat stays behind her with a small smile, his claws always brushing against the back of her neck as she pulls away enough to pull out a charm from her pocket or satchel, telling them that it’ll wade off and protect them, should the bonfire at the other side of the field get too big.

She makes sure to close the bubbles.

Rinse wash and repeat.

All the way until they get to the far northern end of the field.

Her shoes are muddy, and no doubt that Chat’s collected about two basket-fulls of dirt between his toes, because even though this is a festival and the both of them need to look presentable, there’s no amount of persuasion in the world that will convince Chat to wear shoes. Maybe she can remember to put another spell on him, even if it’s a waste of magic.

“Chat,” She whispers with a knowing smile, when they finally make it and he presses her into a tree from the woods that lines the area. She always feels so small when he has his arms bracketing her, shadowing her away from the rest of the festival. Like this, she’s almost completely covered and hidden away like a secret, if only it weren’t for the ruby color of her dress.

His smile is so wolfish as he looks down at her with his familiar and hypnotic eyes. “Is this what you wanted to show me, Princess?”

“Tease,” She huffs, sighing when his tongue finds its way into her mouth. He herds her away from the noise with a smile, presses kisses onto her lips that make her feel like gelatin, hiding the two of them by guiding her to the other side of the tree. She can’t see anything, now, because the woods are completely dark compared to the festival that brims with light— all she sees is two electric green eyes with diamond pupils staring at her, his outline barely visible as her eyes continue to adjust in the darkness.

She can see the thin outline of the tattoo on his chest, a hazy purple covered by his clean shirt. She’s traced the design over and over with her fingertips already— and finds herself longing to do it again and again until she can draw it from memory.

“Says the beautiful girl who’s decided to slip away from a celebration that is for her.”

“The celebration isn’t for me—” She gasps against his mouth when a hand curls around her waist and pulls her close, pressing her chest into his diaphragm. Her skirts are long and full, but unstructured underneath, giving Chat enough space to pull her completely flush against him without any sort of obstruction, and, oh. He’s so warm. She’s well aware that his massive hand fits perfectly around the small of her waist, but it feels a little different doing it in public, even if they are currently hiding in the shadow. Can anyone see them? Does it even matter? All she wants to do is melt into his touch like she had the previous day. “It’s for the people. And I didn’t— I didn’t slip away.”

“Of course.”

“I’m telling the truth,” She lies, trying her best not to dissolve into giggles. She reaches up with her hands to pet at his ears, cupping them and giving them a good squeeze with her thumbs. Chat erupts into purrs while trying to tell her not to mess up his hair, and she smiles, knowing how long it took for them to get his messy mane looking more presentable. “This isn’t slipping away. This is just us trying to save your ears from getting permanent damage.”

His voice is whisper-quiet against her mouth as he pulls away enough to smile at her, his eyes still glowing, such a beautiful electric green. No doubt he can see the corners of her smile starting to twitch, or her brow starting to pinch from the attempt to persuade him to believe her, or how her eyes continue to drop down to the demonic seal that warms the air between them from how close she is to him. “I don’t believe you.”

She has the decency to blush. “Okay, fine. I just wanted to show you the fruit here.”

“Ah, yes yes yes—” His claws find their way into her hair, and locks of it spill over her shoulders. Wait a minute— did he pull her braid loose? How rude! She’ll have to magic her hair back into a more appropriate hairstyle. “How could I have forgotten about the fruit. I’ll take a guess and say you’re trying to show me an apple?”

“They’re everywhere in Paris, I agree—” She sighs. His mouth against hers feels like the fire from the festival— crackling, splintering, empowering. One kiss to her jaw and she’s melting like magma, and he supports her with that hand around her waist, tight enough to break yet soft enough to cradle. “I felt like you’d be more impressed.”

“Work on your cover stories, my Lady,” He laughs softly against her neck. She shivers at the hint of fang against her skin. “Do you want to go home for a bit? We can just say that your magic needs to recuperate. No one doubt it, after all, you and I have kept our magic open for what feels like hours.”

That’s right. She pulls away enough for him to whine. “Chat—”

“Not again, Princess, come back—”

“I don’t want to hurt you!”

“You’re hurting me by not letting me kiss you. Come here, you lovely witch, I’m not done.” And he makes it into a promise. He kisses her enough for her to forget her train of thought, and she finds herself wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and neck as he kisses her hard enough for her to groan into his mouth.

She pulls away again before he convinces her otherwise. “Are you sure you’re not hurting from our magic being open?”

“Beautiful witch, always making sure I’m okay,” He teases, but sobers up quickly when she purses her lips. “I’m okay, Marinette, I promise.”

“But we’ve been stretching it for hours—”

“I’m never hurting when I’m with you,” He shrugs.

“Chat,” She tries to warn him, but can’t find herself paying attention all that much as she smooths a hand against his chest and down his torso. He is solid heat and embers against her fingertips.

“This is a lot better,” He admits with another kiss, “I used to keep my magic open all the time back home, because there was my dad to push back against me. The only way to really hurt yourself is if you don’t have someone there holding you together, which is what happened with you with my dad because he hadn’t realized what he was doing— anyway, I just made sure not to stretch it out too much when we first met.”

But her magic’s only expanded this wide in the past couple of days, which means… “So this is normal for you?”

“It is.” His hand manages to leave her hair, only to cup her jaw and cheek instead. His thumb rubs softly against her face, lulling her into a comfort that makes her understand why he purrs under her hand so much. “Your magic and soul have always felt like a hummingbird to me. I was always afraid to put it under any strain of that kind, so I never wanted you to open it up all the way.”

“Such a gentleman,” She murmurs, no actual sarcasm as she says it. “You always take so good care of me.”

“I love you.” He kisses her soft enough for it to hurt.

“I know,” Her eyes slip shut. “I love you too. You’ve made me so happy, Chat, I could cry.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home?”

She snorts. “Absolutely not. You said something about meeting someone?”

“I think he was talking about me,” A third voice clears the area, and Marinette stiffens into stone with a squeal, looking into the darkness of the woods for a body that matches the voice. Chat groans at the voice, whoever it is, sagging against her like he’s trying to mentally prepare himself to deal with whatever it is. “Or either of us, honestly.”

“It could be you, my sweet. I’ve already met her.”

“So I heard,” The first voice laughs. “You sent her into a fright, you know. Prayers sent left and right apologizing that she had accidentally confessed to you.”

“Oh, come on. Are we going to do this now?” Chat huffs. “No, no, shoo. Out. I’m busy. You’re always interrupting!”

“Chimaeram, don’t be so rude,” There’s laughter so rich and decadent that it feels homely.

“We’re busy—” Chat makes a flat-pitched noise at the back of his throat. “Come on. How come you two are completely silent when you two want to be? I couldn’t even smell you two, I thought a cheese wheel had gotten tossed into the woods on accident— but that was you?”

“We’ve been enjoying the festival! Should we be smelling some other way?”

“You smell like an entire cheese, Dad.”

“‘Dad’?” Marinette squeaks. Oh, she’s so thankful that Chat’s holding her by the waist so she doesn’t buckle and faint— wait— hold on— they’re in a compromising position! She pushes against Chat’s chest, turning redder and redder when he doesn’t let go but rather tightens his grip. “‘Mom’?”

“Your father got to the cheese cart before I could stop him,” The first voice sighs. “I tried to stop him, starlight, I really did.”

“Cheese is delicious.”

“How did you two even go into the festival?”

“We can change our heights, you know,” The first voice laughs. Airy, light, and twinkling— it almost sounds like the stars themselves are laughing. “Easier to blend in with humans when you’re at a human height.”

“Are you— never mind. We’ll talk about this later. Can you two leave us for a little while?” Chat grumbles.

“What is happening,” Marinette whispers to herself, searching the shadows for any sign of life.

“You can’t see us, can you, Ladybug? Aye— it’s too dark for you, isn’t it?”

Chat groans again. “Dad— no. Mom, tell him not to use fire—”

“I really don’t think this is wise, dearest—”

Something hits the dirt floor with a thunk. The trees around them light with an otherworldly glow— a hypnotic green that reminds her of Chat’s tattoo before it had changed color. It is not fire, but it is light— towering up to the tallest branch and lighting up the clearing with enough ambiance that she can see.

Tall.

Massive.

Goodness, the people in front of her are tall enough to clear mountains. She can’t see well, as the green light still makes dark shadows, but she can make out the basics.

The form on the left wears what looks like to be a white robe tied at the natural waist with a golden rope. The clothes look completely out of fashion, her arms and the top of her chest showing, with only two thick beads holding the straps in place— but she doesn’t shiver from any cold. Instead, she seems to glow with warmth herself, with her mass of fiery curls braided and plaited into patterns down her back to show glowing blue earrings with a matching band that goes across the temples.

Almost as if a crown?

A crown for a— for a queen.

“Hold on, hold on, something’s not right here.” The shorter of the two hums, tapping on her chin in thought. She snaps her fingers, and the green glow changes to a warm orange as if it were a sunset licking at their faces. Marinette can see every freckle on her skin now, almost as if they’re… poppy seeds. “That’s better. Humans don’t see well in green light, dearest, it’s important to accommodate them.”

If the first person is considered tall, the second is considered inhumanely giant.

Marinette recognizes those cutting green eyes that are framed with coiled and dreadlocked hair that seem to turn into mist at the edges. Those ears, too, she recognizes the shape of them! Even as the giant man in front of her is clad in nothing but a dark, shapeless robe, clasped together by a thick leather strap at the shoulder, she looks back to Chat with her jaw slowly dropping, then back at the unknown man.

The eyes are identical.

Electric green with diamond-shaped pupils— humor in his eyes as if someone has just recently told a joke— holding a staff made out of wood.

She gasps. “I—”

“I wanted to do this in a more approachable way,” Chat sighs into his hand, his other still tight and cinched on her waist. “But as always, my parents are always so full of haste�� I’ll chew them out later for this, I promise.”

What does she even focus on first? “Parents?”

At least Chat looks apologetic. “Yes. Marinette, this is my mother and father.”

Is she going to faint? “Oh. So it is.”

“We’ve met before,” The second form smiles with wide lips. “I even got a good scolding from you, but it’s nice to be able to respond to you without having to meow.”

“King Plagg?” She squeaks out. “The cat— was— was really you?”

“You did not imagine I actually was a cat for most of my time, did you?” His laughter feels rich against the trees. His voice makes her feel like she’s witnessing history unfolding at her feet, full of wisdom and age, something that reflects in his eyes. His eyes are kind, even as they are sharp enough to break through anyone’s demeanor, with fine and soft lines crinkling at the sides of his face. He can’t be older than sixty, but honestly, calling him fifty is already pushing it too high as it is.

He has the face of a father.

“I scolded the king—” Marinette hides her mouth behind her hands with a gasp. “Oh— oh, no— I am so sorry—”

Plagg bursts out laughing. Louder, like he’s unaware of how much space he takes, and he moves his staff to hit against the grassy floor again as he shifts to wrap an arm around the woman to his left. “I see why Chat is smitten with you, little Ladybug. You had been so sure of yourself the last time we spoke!”

“It’s— it’s a little different speaking to a cat—” She eeps.

“Don’t mind him,” The woman speaks with a roll of her eyes, looking fondly up to the man that continues to laugh, placing a delicate hand on Plagg’s chest as if to hold him back. “It’s hardly a bad thing for him to be put in his place from time to time, dearest.”

Oh, she is going to faint. “If he’s the king, then— then— then you—”

“Yes,” Beautiful blue eyes, soft at the edges, looking at her with a familiarity that shouldn’t exist. They’ve never met before… but it doesn’t matter, does it? “It’s a pleasure to finally be able to meet you, and speak to you, my sweet Ladybug.”

“Tikki—” She’s so thankful for the hand around her waist. “You’re Tikki— oh—”

“She’s going to faint,” Chat tries to wave them off. “Can you two not freak her out? Shouldn’t you two have introduced yourself one at a time? You two are horrible at this.”

“We’ve only done this a couple of times,” Plagg shrugs. “Forgive us for not being professionals at this.”

“You’d think with how old they are, they’d have more experience in introducing themselves to their respected champion,” Chat rolls his eyes, shaking his head in Marinette’s direction like they’re sharing a secret.

“I don’t feel so good,” Marinette whispers.

“It’s the height, isn’t it? I can transform into my cat form—”

“No more cat nonsense, you both cats have had enough fun teasing Marinette to last a whole lifetime.” Tikki snorts with a knowing smile. She reaches for Marinette’s face, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, touching her glowing earlobe. Her touch is soothing, liquid and butter and balmy, and she finds herself dropping her eyelids slowly at the touch. “Let her breathe, Chat, she’s feeling claustrophobic, you hold her like we’re going to take her away from you!”

“Won’t you?” Chat sniffs.

“Behave, starlight.” Tikki laughs, tapping Chat’s nose with a fingertip, before turning back to Marinette. “Why don’t we sit down? Perhaps I can convince Plagg to share his cheese. Everything is made better with food, after all.”

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#fire lily #fire lilies au #fire lily au #marichatmay2021 #marichatmay #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir

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a-libra-writes · 5 years ago

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Game of Thrones Imagines - Dancing

in which i write waaay too much about this because ive been listening to waltz music and im absolute trash for dancing scenes

In this preference, you’ll enjoy little drabbles with: Ned Stark, Benjen Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Jamie Lannister, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn of Blackwater, Stannis Baratheon, Renly Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Brienne, Margeary Tyrell, Loras Tyrell, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Edmure Tully, Brynden Tully, Oberyn Martell, Yara Greyjoy, Petyr Baelish, Beric Dondarrion, Tormund Giantsbane

seven hells what order should I put these guys in

NED STARK

In his youth, Ned never really bothered with the ins and outs of dancing. He didn’t see the point; training or running Winterfell was more important, besides, it was more of a Southern thing. His brothers shared his lack of enthusiasm, so he didn’t really care about it.

However, this changed at a gala at Winterfell, when he saw you for the first time. You were so lively and kind, and your beauty seemed to increase tenfold when you danced. He didn’t even notice his brother Brandon was your partner at first, and suddenly, he couldn’t keep himself from asking you for the next dance, worried Brandon might keep you all night. As he put his hand to your waist and your hand in his, he internally panicked… But that melted away as you gave him a reassuring smile.

Ned didn’t even notice you were leading him, nor did he dwell on the few stumbles he made. He just couldn’t believe he was so close to you, and enjoying something like dancing.

He tried practicing and brushing up a bit after that, but really, it was a bit of a lost cause. After you married, he still loved to take you in his arms anyway, and he was never short of praise for you when the gala was over. You teased him about watching you all night instead of visiting with his fellow lords, and he wasn’t ashamed to say that he loved watching your graceful movements.

The last dance was Ned’s favorite, as he loved it when you leaned your head on his shoulder and you two could just sway. If you were particularly tired, he’d wait until the guests had mostly cleared out and bridal carry you to your shared bedroom. He used to feel a bit embarrassed in helping you undress, but later he took great pleasure in how you'd sigh. This extended to him eventually sharing a bath with you afterward, soothing your body with the warm water and his hands.

BENJEN STARK

Benjen had never cared for dancing, especially these silly galas the Southerners liked. He never thought he was missing out, and rather enjoyed teasing Brandon and Ned for having to go to them, and later teased Robb for the same thing.

He was stopping by Winterfell and staying the night when he heard of a gala going on. Benjen wanted to speak with his brother and nephews, so he stopped by inside, surprised by the amount of people and the music. He spotted Jon and went to him, only for someone to catch his eye. He didn’t keep track of the family members of the North, as it wasn’t his place anymore, but he wished he had a name for your lovely face.

You were dancing with Robb, smiling at him, laughing when he leaned in and said something. He admired the way you moved with such elegance, despite Robb having some trouble keeping up.

“Uncle?” Jon found him first, and tried to get his attention.

Benjen quickly shut his mouth and greeted his nephew. As he hugged him, he still glanced at you. Jon had noticed and teased his uncle, mentioning your family was close to the Starks, and you were their only daughter. As Benjen had visited with his family, he couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you. He was ready to leave, wanting to keep you off his mind, and he was surprised when you sought him out first.

“I’m so sorry to intrude, but you’re … Benjen, correct? My cousin is with the Night’s Watch, and he mentioned you - Wait, I haven’t even introduced myself…”

He thought it was so cute how breathless you were, and you were trying to be polite to a man of the Night's Watch, even if you had no reason to. He asked for your name, and many other questions, both of you drawing into conversation without realizing it. You noticed a few songs had passed already, and you took a chance. You asked if he would be allowed to dance with you. Benjen hesitated, and politely refused you, figuring a lady shouldn’t be dancing with someone like him. He was surprised by how disheartened you look, and he was disappointed as well.

As the evening grew dark, you noticed Benjen had disappeared at some point. You were glad to leave the stuffy hall, your feet and legs were aching. Outside, the frozen air was perfect, and you took a deep breath … and you yelped as a sudden gust of wind hit you. Your dress was thin, and you shivered.

Suddenly, someone wrapped a warm fur around you. You looked up. “Benjen? I was wondering where you were.”

“You were looking for me?” His pleased smile was cute. You pulled the fur further around your shoulders and spoke honestly. “Yes. I wanted to see you."

The two of you lingered, and you could feel a sort of tension. There was still music from the hall, albeit muffled and distant. You spoke first, asking him to dance with you.

Benjen couldn’t believe you managed to take him off guard, but he didn’t make the same mistake twice. He accepted, pulling you into his arms. As you shivered again, he pulled you even closer, and you wondered if it was his heart or your’s that you could hear.

From then on, anytime Benjen passed by Winterfell, you were sure to see him. You two shared several secret meetings, which weren’t limited to dances. He especially liked it when you snuck out of the galas early and curled up with him in your guest room, where he'd soothe your aching legs while whispering how beautiful you looked.

ROBB STARK

Like most Northern lords, Robb felt the entire idea of galas and dancing was silly. Still, he knew you attended them, so he’d do his best to practice a few steps when no one was looking. During a gala, he didn’t hide that he was looking around for you, and would try his best to have you at the first dance. When he danced with other ladies, he really wasn’t that attentive and sometimes made mistakes out of nervousness, or because he was too busy watching you across the room.

Once Robb finally had you as a partner, it was obvious how pleased he was as he held you. He’d try to play it cool, but you could tell he was concentrating on following the right steps.

Just for fun, you liked to throw him off by moving a little closer and whispering something sweet. His face would go red and he’d stumble, and you two would laugh to yourselves, stuck in your own little world.

He’d eventually grow in confidence and you could tell by how firmly he held you and how he began to lead the dance more and more. If you asked him about practicing, he’d have to blush again and admit he was doing it for you, as he loved watching you twirl with more experienced partners, and hoped that someday he could make you smile like that. You’d insist that you love dancing with him the most, no matter what, and he’d likely almost step on your feet again because he was so happy.

At the end of a dance, Robb always gives you an earnest kiss on your hand and lingers a bit, still holding your hand and looking you in the eyes. It’s so obvious he wants to kiss you for real, but then he has to hand you off to a partner, frowning the whole time. He’d definitely want to find you for a last dance, and at the end of that, he’d risk it and give you a kiss on the cheek - still holding your hand. He often lingers after the music ends, still holding onto you, and you have to teasingly remind him to let you go and return to his family.

Often Robb really can’t take it and finds you after the gala, in the evening, wanting to hold your hand and steal a proper kiss from you. “I’ve been waiting to do that all night.”

“Ha! Get it all out of your system, before someone comes looking for us.”

SANSA STARK

Since she was a girl, Sansa always daydreamed about attending fabulous galas and dances in the South. Once she arrived in King’s Landing, you and her became fast friends after she met you at her first one. She looked up to you, loving your poise and grace. You began to teach her, and although she had some trouble with more complicated steps, she appreciated your patient instruction. Each gala was a whirlwind of emotion for her, and when it became too much, especially with Joffrey, she’d seek you out in the crowd. You’d take her into your arms and dance, quietly alleviating her worries as the music played.

The situation in King’s Landing became worse, but Sansa continued to attend your lessons. You noticed the toll the events was taking on her health and mind, but she insisted she was fine.

One day, she was especially clumsy in the lesson, often making mistakes and spacing out. You knew it was rather pointless you ask, but you did so quietly, whispering to her as you guided her along the steps.

Suddenly Sansa held fast to you, bringing you into a crushing hug. You heard her shudder and try to stifle herself, but several tears came out. You continued to sway, soothing her and petting her hair. As soon as you both heard someone, she pulled away, pressing her sleeves at her eyes to hide any tears. You both quickly returned to the lesson as several servants passed by.

From that point, Sansa would often exclusively seek you out at galas, pointedly dancing with just you even if propriety demanded you two part. She only would after a scathing comment from Cersei or Joffrey - and she would've danced with others for a time, but then she’d always come back to you. You’d still whisper soothing words when no one would hear as you two twirled.

Once the dances were over, you both would be exhausted, but Sansa would still linger with you. You’d hold her hand, taking her to her room, sometimes shooing away her handmaidens so you could brush her hair and keep comforting her. She wouldn’t always accept this, however, and would want to help you as well, smiling softly when you’d attempt to joke and make witty comments to lighten the mood.

JON SNOW

Jon was never expected to bother with fancy feasts or galas, and he told himself he was fine with it, especially since Robb was always dressed up and dragged off for them. He still found it a bit lonely, however, and he was curious about the music that was always playing for the galas. Sometimes he’d hang around outside, listening to the laughter and music. He was doing this on the night you saw him. Jon heard someone hurry out, and he was surprised to see a girl all dressed up and out of breath. You sat down on a bench almost fell over as you removed your shoes.

You turned around and yelped, and he startled, too. He apologized for frightening you, and was glad you just laughed it off.

“You’re … Lord Stark’s boy, right? Jon Snow?”

He was surprised you recognized him, and thankful that you were talking to him so kindly. You introduced yourself, explaining your shoe had broken and you were worn out. As you shivered, he quickly gave you his fur, and you two ended up talking for much longer than you expected.

“The galas aren't so bad, I promise. Yes, they’re tiring, and dressing up takes far too long, and the lords can be overbearing …” You trailed off, and he couldn’t help but laugh. You were so pretty in your outfit, and he wondered if Robb was one of those lords who annoyed you. You stood up and took his hands, further surprising him. “Still, they're fun! Here, I’ll show you!”

Even though Jon tried to protest, he really couldn’t argue once you were placing his hands. He knew something of dancing that he was taught, but not much, and he hoped he didn’t touch you anywhere inappropriate. You ended up swaying and dancing along, and he began to forget himself.

Once you began to shiver again, he remembered your feet were bare and offered to help you to your guest room. There were several more galas at Winterfell, and you liked skipping out to talk and visit with him. He still had plans to go to the Wall, and he considered his time with you precious, knowing it wouldn’t last long. A few times Robb or Theon teased him for having a crush, and he’d just tell them they were imagining things.

Whenever he'd hear the music of the galas, whether it be a minstrel that was playing or someone singing, he'd wonder what it'd be like if he were a true Stark and was allowed to dance with you like the other lords.

THEON GREYJOY

Naturally, Theon wasn’t allowed to participate in the few galas at Winterfell, and he didn’t think Ironborns should be doing flowery dancing, anyway. Still, his interest was piqued when he noticed you and Sansa practicing, and how the servants would gossip about how lovely you and Robb looked when you danced.

So Theon ended up sneaking into a few, especially at Robb and Jon’s urging. They were ready to get a kick out of Theon falling over himself or Catlyn dragging him out by the ear, but he surprised nearly everyone when he strode up to you with confidence, asking for a dance. You knew him, of course, and you were surprised when he kept up with you.

Not just that, he was almost a natural even if he didn’t know all the steps. He had an infectious energy, and you two ended up sharing quite a few laughs. If he messed up or you teased him about his hand being too low, he’d have a joke ready. Once you finished the dance, he made sure to kiss your hand with a wink, sometimes giving you a kiss on the cheek if no one was watching.

Theon’s absolute favorite thing to do was “steal” you from your partner, especially if it was someone he knew you disliked. He’d just whisk you off with a smirk and a quip, and you two would try to stifle your giggles at how angry the man would look.

Theon was only able to snatch you for the last dance once, and he got an earful for it later - but it was completely worth it. It felt like it was just the two of you in the room, and he stole a kiss before being dragged off by Robb and Jon, who were positive that Catlyn was going to tear Theon a new one.

Theon would always try to find you after a gala. His usual flirting would fall a bit short, as he’d be a bit intimidated by how lovely and breathless you looked, but you’d still smile and would give him a real kiss goodnight.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

You were a noble from Westeros who had long been travelling Essos, and you soon came into the service of the Queen of Dragons. You two had a surprising friendship, and she found herself quite drawn to you. One day, she heard you humming and dancing along to something as you tidied up, and she asked you with a laugh what you were doing.

As you described the grand balls you’d attend, and all the silly nonsense your parents would make you wear, she’d become thoughtful. She told you to demonstrate some more of the dances, and you were amused by how queenly her demand was. You’d do your best, but explain that it’s better with two people - perhaps one of her handmaidens or Missandei could help.

To your surprise, Daenerys would step forward and hold you with a strong confidence, all but telling you to instruct her. You’d do so, keeping your smile down as you guided her hands and began the basic steps. Daenerys did her best to follow, although she took it quite seriously, and thus would make a few mistakes. As you’d tease her good naturedly, she’d be even more determined, bringing you even closer and telling you to focus on the lesson.

Your lessons continued for some time, each one the two of you going longer and becoming a little more breathless. Daenerys loved how you’d hum the songs and would move with such confidence, it would distract her more than your lips or the feeling of your body against her’s. Finally, she’d push you against the wall and kiss you until you were breathless… And afterwards, you’d giggle and ask her how long she’s been wanting to do such a thing. The queen certainly punished that bit of cheek.

While you don’t have lessons all that much anymore, during celebrations Daenerys will take you to herself and lead you in the dance. She’d obviously be pleased with your compliments, which you found adorable.

Sometimes in her chambers, when the windows are open and you both can hear the sea, she’d pull you into her arms and want to slow dance. You both would end up making up your own dances, and would take turns leaning on each other and sharing kisses and whispers.

JORAH MORMONT

Dancing with Jorah came about purely by accident. You were discussing Westerosi culture with Daenerys, as you were also from there and she was curious. You described attending galas, all the beautiful dresses and lights and music. Jorah had attended a few as well, even though they weren’t as popular in the North, and he shared his stories.

Daenerys looked to the both of you with a bit of mischief in her eyes. She asked if you two could show her how some of the dances are done. You quickly felt shy, as you had quite a crush on Ser Jorah, but the idea of being so close and dancing with him was a wonderful thought. You looked to him, and he also seemed a little flustered, but he gave you a smile. “A dance or two for the Khaleesi shouldn’t be a problem. It’s been some time for me, so you may have to lead, my lady.”

You gladly did so, you loved it when he called you a lady, reminding you of better times back at home. Despite his words, he took you in his arms with little hesitation and after you counted a few times, you both were easily waltzing around the room. You hummed a song you remembered, and he also remembered it, and began recalling when he was a young man and attended his first gala.

You didn’t notice, but he was discussing the story more with you than Daenerys, and she had long snuck out of the room with Missandei, the two of them grinning.

You two had ended up dancing along to several more songs, talking all the while. You hummed and sometimes sang a song, and he easily swayed you even if he didn’t know it. Jorah held you just perfectly, not too tight, and you felt so safe in his arms. It wasn’t until you turned to ask Daenerys a question that you realized you both were alone, totally out of breath and not knowing how long you’d been dancing.

You had a mix of emotions, you were homesick and lovesick. Jorah assumed your quietness was because you were tired, and he brought you water and took you to a place to rest. You were touched, and you two kept talking into the evening. You eventually began leaning on him and fell asleep, and he carefully carried you to your room and kissed your brow before he tucked you in.

You both confessed your feelings to each other shortly afterward. While there wasn’t much time for parties in the Free Cities, sometimes during quiet evenings you’d pull him into a dance and he’d love it, enjoying your closeness and how you’d hum and rest your head on his chest.

JAMIE LANNISTER

Jamie was always expected to be accomplished in most things, and socially-demanded dancing for stuffy galas was no different. Although he didn’t think much of it, he had a natural talent for it. Jamie didn’t have many chances to dance, however, as the Kingsguard was generally discouraged from participating in galas, unless it was for ceremony or some event.

You first danced together at one of these ceremonies, and Jamie was relieved. You two had known each other for a while, and he was glad not to get stuck with some lovestruck maid. He started out with a smirk, making sassy remarks about the silliness of the whole thing, and you teasing him about being rude while dancing with a lady. As it went on, Jamie started to become quiet. He began to realize how much he liked having you this close, how you smiled and reassured him, and lightly scolded him when he made a rude comment about a guest. He couldn’t keep his heart still, and told himself it was just the exercise.

He was disappointed when the dance ended, and ended up finding you for a few more. When you were taken for the last dance, he couldn’t deny how irritated he felt, and watched you and your damned partner the whole time.

After that, he was sure to attend more galas, but not enough to bring suspicion to your growing relationship. He’d sometimes play it risky, bringing you closer than was proper, whispering in your ear lovely or flirty praises if he knew his sister was away. He really only enjoyed dancing with you, and didn’t have a problem turning down anyone else, although he had to dance with a few others to avoid being seen as too rude.

After he lost his hand and returned to King’s Landing, the bright galas lost their appeal and he stopped attending, even for ceremony. He ended up finding you in a practice room one day, and you guided him to you, although he protested. Once you began humming a song you knew he liked, and guided him into it, he couldn’t help but bring you close against his chest. He leaned into you, swaying as he nuzzled into your hair, holding you so tight it almost hurt.

You knew he was overwhelmed with emotion from his captivity, so when you two got a chance alone, you’d hold him close and whisper how much you loved him, sometimes swaying and humming the songs you two used to dance to.

TYRION LANNISTER

Galas were like any other feast or party for Tyrion, he could have plenty of drink and banter, and if he got bored, he’d slip out and go to a brothel. If he knew you were in attendance, you two would sit together, trading drinks and stories.

He knew you loved to dance, and sometimes you’d step away to enjoy the music. He’d have some feelings of envy and sadness, wishing he could dance so easily with you. One day, you noticed him being particularly self-pitying, and you pulled him by the wrist.

“What’s this, my lady? Normally, I wouldn’t refuse you, but with so many people -”

You smiled and shook your head. “Oh, honestly, it’s not that. I want you to dance with me.”

Tyrion was obviously unsure, he didn’t want that sort of attention drawn to both of you. He knew his reputation, but he didn’t want to sully your’s. You insisted, but instead of dragging him to the middle of the dance floor, you pulled him out in the halls.

“Now I’m really getting mixed messages about your intentions,” He joked, trying to relieve his anxiety.

You rolled your eyes and took his hands, and gently instructed him. Outside, you could still hear the music, but you were alone, enjoying yourselves You both ended up losing track of time, and had to hurry back separately, so no one would assume anything untoward.

He was touched by your kindness, loving you even more, if that was possible. During galas, you two would hold hands and drink, and after you married you were more than able to sneak out and dance to yourselves under the moon and stars.

TYWIN LANNISTER

It was the first time you had attended a gala at Casterly Rock, and your parents wanted you on your best behavior. You had to dance the appropriate amount of time with the appropriate amount of partners, at the appropriate distance. Just thirty minutes in and you wanted to leave.

You noticed Tywin Lannister sitting at a table with his family members; he was hard to miss, with his great presence. However, you became wrapped up in your irksome partners, and you didn’t notice he was gone until he was suddenly beside you. Your scared partner wasted no time in handing you over, and before you knew it, you were dancing with the Warden of the West.

He had a confident hold on you, and perhaps he was a little too close, but you hardly thought about that. You were surprised by his poise and practiced steps; he led you effortlessly and you found yourself complimenting him. You blushed and tried not to look away as he returned the compliment with his low voice. You'd never thought he would do such a thing, and to you of all people.

At the end of it, he gave you a proper bow and kiss on your hand, but it felt different than others you received. You were still buzzing. At the end of the night, he picked you for the last dance, and you were determined not to be intimidated again. You danced wonderfully in sync with him, and you could swear he tried to change some steps to trip you up. You didn’t fall for it, and followed his lead easily. The dance was over before you knew it, and he gave you another customary kiss on your hand, but there was a peculiar look in his eyes that made your heart flutter even more.

The gossip in court exploded after that, with your handmaids telling you that he almost never danced with any lady, and everyone agreed you two looked like royalty.

You still remember that night fondly after you two married. After you wed, he was sure to get the first few dances with you at each gala, and no one was going to take Tywin Lannister’s wife from him until he was quite finished. Once he was, he’d hand you to a partner and sit down, his eyes occasionally following you across the ballroom. No one would think of making an inappropriate move on you, especially at Casterly Rock.

If he felt someone was overstepping their bounds, Tywin wouldn’t hesitate to calmly stand from his seat, make his way to you, and give them a quiet but vicious reminder of who you were married to. Then, he’d guide you to his seat, where he’d keep his hand over yours until he calmed down.

For the last dance, no matter how tired he was or who he was speaking to, he’d seek you out. While Tywin always held you close, if he was in a particular mood, he’d make sure your body was nearly touching his, and his hand would have a firm grip on your waist. The two of you would talk quietly or you'd enjoy a peaceful silence with knowing glances. Tywin wouldn’t want to show too much affection in public, but you could tell from his soft gaze and the way he held you that he very much wanted you. Once the dance was finished, he’d keep you by his side until the gala finished and you two retired to your bedchambers.

SANDOR CLEGANE

Of all the stupid things nobles do, Sandor found galas especially fucking stupid, especially with all the fuss in guarding them. Normally he was glad to take the night off and drink, but since being hired by your family, he had to attend to guard you.

He’d already had growing feelings for you, and the damn galas only made it worse. You were always dressed beautifully, always smiling at this person and laughing with that one. At least you'd give cold looks to lords who didn’t impress you, but he still hated how everyone held your attention. Anytime one of the lords was too close or touchy, he’d be sure to touch his sword and quietly appear next to you two until they’d slink off.

After a well-known incident involving a drunk lord who ended up lifted by his neck and nearly tossed, the guests figured out you were well-protected and didn’t try anything fishy. It really wasn’t enough for Sandor, he didn’t give a shit about dancing, it just drove him up a wall how other men were so close and touching you. You couldn’t stand some of them, but you had to allow it, and whatever you two felt for each other had to be kept under wraps.

In the evening, when the gala ran long and your legs and feet were absolutely killing you, Sandor would wait until you two were alone and pick you up. He’d cradle you bridal style, secretly adoring how you rested your head on his broad shoulders and kept him close, sometimes touching his face as you closed your eyes. He’d be bold enough to take you into your bedroom and set you down on the bed, ignoring the scandalized looks of your handmaidens. Eventually you began sending them away, and when Sandor would set you down, he’d be sure to strip you from your clothes (perhaps a bit too roughly), rubbing your legs and meeting your lips as you held onto his face.

At one point you were practicing in an empty room and you offered to teach him. He snorted, saying he wasn’t doing that shit, and you laughed, figuring you’d give it a try. After a gala, you still have the music in your head, so when you’re both alone you’ll wrap your arms around him and hum, trying to sway him along with you. He’ll grumble and complain but still bring his arms around you, holding you a little too tight, as if trying to erase all the people who were touching you before. Sometimes he was feeling especially jealous, seeing how flushed your cheeks were and how you breathed heavily in your dress, and he’d be too eager to rip it while ‘helping’ you undress.

BRONN

No surprise, he’d scoff at the ridiculousness of the galas and dancing. He and Tyrion would have plenty of good laughs about it as you got ready, and he’d be sure to give you several compliments on your backside before you left. After he was knighted at Blackwater, Tyrion made several jokes about him attending to find a proper wife, which he always blew off. It wasn’t until Tyrion brought up your marriage in passing, and how you’d likely find a husband at a gala since you attended so many, that he got a little irritated.

He didn’t want to go, of course, but he recalled how you always dressed up for them. Were you dressing up for someone in particular? He didn’t think you were the husband-hunting type. The whole idea just left a bad taste in his mouth, so he agreed to go to one with Tyrion, fully intending to just drink and joke the whole time.

Naturally none of the lords and ladies looked forward to having Bronn or Tyrion there, but you still sat with them, laughing and drinking along. Bronn kept fighting the urge to pull you into his lap like he did when he visited the taverns, and right when he was about to pull you to him by your waist, you were asked to dance by some Lord Who Knows from Where the Fuck. Bronn definitely was glaring when the man took you away.

As the lord danced with you, and you smiled politely when he kissed your hand at the end, Bronn hoped that was it. Nope, several lords were ready to dance with you. Evidently, you were popular, and that wasn’t surprising. Bronn wasn’t a flowery words type, but the word ‘beautiful’ kept coming to mind as you twirled and glittered under the lights. It just irked him, so he kept drinking and suggested to Tyrion that they ditch and find a brothel. He remained irritated, despite the distractions.

The next time you readied for a gala and stopped by Tyrion’s office to see if he was joining you, Bronn felt that ugly feeling again, and urged you to come to one of his favorite taverns instead.

You thought he was joking. “In my jewels and one of my favorite dresses?”

“Eh, leave the jewels. I can help ya out of that dress, if ya need it.” He grinned.

You realized he actually meant it, and you sighed, thinking about how upset your family would be, especially since you were still unmarried… But Bronn looked almost eager, and it was hard to refuse him to begin with. You rolled your eyes, told him to give you some time and returned in a much simpler outfit. He couldn’t keep his grin and laugh to himself as he pulled you out of the castle, with Tyrion smirking to himself as you two left.

At the tavern, there was plenty of music and drinks already flowing. After you two drank plenty, Bronn pulled you up, telling you he’d show you what real dancing was. You’d never actually been amongst the smallfolk like this, so you were a little overwhelmed, but you loved the way his hands touched and wandered across your body. He was risky, giving you kisses here on there, sometimes on your jaw or your neck, encouraged by your laughter. Once you two were tired and thirsty, he eagerly pulled you into his lap, calling for another round of drinks. The two of you spent quite a bit of time at the inn and the room upstairs. From then on, you began shirking attending galas, having more fun dancing with Bronn in various taverns and dance halls in King’s Landing.

STANNIS BARATHEON

Not too surprising, Stannis saw no enjoyment in galas, even when he was unmarried and expected to find a wife. The regular feasts were pain enough, and Renly and Robert always took the attention of others anyway.

While courting you, he never actually met you at a gala, preferring to see you elsewhere. When you two married, he realized that he eventually had to attend them, as you couldn’t go by yourself … and he knew how much you loved them. So even with his discomfort, he made attempts to practice with you. You guided him patiently, and he paid attention, although he often got distracted by your happy smile, and how you’d reward him with kisses. He’d tell you to let up on all the affection so he could concentrate, but …. Nope, you didn’t. If you kept showering him with praise and affection, he’d become terribly flustered and try to pull you back into the lesson.

When a gala finally came around, you could tell he was nervous, even if he seemed the same to anyone else. He danced with you through two songs, which surprised you. You forgot yourself more than once, giving him a chaste kiss or a compliment like you’d do in practice, and you both would blush and hope no one noticed.

He’d sit out after that, feeling too out of place. He’d feel nervous seeing you dance with more loud and outgoing men, evening starting to grind his teeth if they looked too cozy with you. Eventually, Davos would have to point out that you didn’t smile nearly as much for the other lords, nor did you stay close to them or laugh at their silly jokes.

For the last dance, you could tell he was happy to return to you. He held you much closer, even giving you subdued smiles as you beamed up at him and noted his improvement. At the end, he’d give you a kiss on the hand, but wouldn’t be satisfied and would end up giving you a sweet one on your lips.

RENLY BARATHEON

While Renly was good enough at dancing and he had friends at the gala, he preferred feasts and tourneys, especially since galas were full of starry-eyed girls chasing after him. You two met when you were forced to partner up, you both were trying to escape more undesirable partners and easily danced away from them. Once you’d both realize what you just did, you’d have a good laugh about it and started to get to know each other.

Since you two often visited at other events after that, there were rumors, but you knew his heart was with a certain Tyrell. He was a fun friend anyway, especially when you both wanted to escape at a gala. You’d dance and make jokes, complain about your families and snigger at certain guests. One time you both were being pursued by especially annoying partners for a last dance, and you literally spent half the song dodging through couples, avoiding them and finally finding each other, only to be totally out of breath and the song nearly over.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

You attended more than enough galas for one lady; your parents were so eager for you to marry, they dragged you to dozens. At least you enjoyed dancing, however, the instability of Westeros had other ideas. You followed your father on his campaign to support Stannis, putting a solid end to any future galas.

As you were often at Dragonstone, you befriended little Shireen, who naturally wasn’t allowed to attend galas. You began giving her little lessons, teaching her some of the songs and steps to them, which she loved. Eventually you began to befriend Davos as well, ans he thought it was adorable to watch the two of you. He especially liked the grace and ease that you moved with, it reminded him of a ship sailing on an easy breeze.

One evening, Shireen suggested that you teach Davos how to dance. He was taken off-guard and quickly said that he really wasn’t a dancer, besides, you were a proper lady who ought to dance with proper lords.

“You are also a lord, and a knight, Ser Davos.” You reminded him. "Besides, in these times, the realm has little need for fancy parties."

He still seemed uneasy and tried several other excuses, until you walked up to him, put his hand on your waist and took up his right one. Of course, he felt insecure about his missing fingers, but you didn’t even bring it up. And it was hard to focus on them, when he had your lovely eyes and your sweet smile so close.

Shireen sang the songs you taught her, and you sang along, carefully guiding him into a simple two and three step dance. He was stiff and nervous the whole time, worried about touching you inappropriately, wanting to touch you but knowing he shouldn’t. After that, several times when he stopped by to see you and Shireen, he’d be dragged into another dancing lesson. He actually did love being so close to you, and how sweet you were with the princess. It made his mind wander to what sort of family you two would have.

Davos never really saw you at a proper ball, which he considered a good and a bad thing. He’d never see you in a lovely dress enchanting the room, but he also wouldn’t have to see younger, handsomer men dancing perfectly with you.

Sometimes when you were feeling anxious, you’d wrap your arms around his warm torso and hold him close to you, humming one of the songs and swaying with him. He’d hold your waist, kissing your brow and giving you words of comfort, knowing you liked the movement and closeness.

MARGAERY TYRELL

The two of you began dancing in the practice room. Margaery was quite drawn to you based off the rumors she heard, and she wasn’t disappointed, as you two quickly dazzled the room. From then on, you often practiced together, usually trading gossip and jokes the whole time.

At the next gala, she surprised you with asking you to dance. You two twirled around the floor, enchanting anyone who watched with your combined grace, not knowing you two were cracking jokes or sharing flirtations while the music played.

You danced often together, although you both knew when it was appropriate to stop dancing together and dance with a possible suitor, it never made you happy. A few times Margaery would notice when a man was getting too close, and she’d swiftly whisk you away with a charming smile, leaving him none the wiser that you were being rescued. Often, you two would catch each other’s eyes while dancing with other partners, and she’d give you a knowing smile.

After one of the parties was winding down, you accompanied Margaery to her private chambers so you two could get out of your dresses and soothe your aching feet. She noticed you were feeling down most of the evening. “Is something the matter, love?”

“Well…” You felt foolish. “I was thinking how you and I will never get the last dance. If we ever did, people would think it was some joke.”

Before you knew it, she whisked you off the bed and onto your feet. “Then, we’ll dance right now! This will be our last one, or the one after this, or the one after that. The last dance will always be just the two of us, when we decide.”

From then on, you two had a little tradition, having your “last dance” in one of your chambers, humming to the ballroom songs in your nightgowns and usually ending it with a fit of giggles on the bed.

LORAS TYRELL

It wasn’t too surprising that Loras was just as graceful in dance as he was on horseback, and all the ladies of the realm were eager to dance with him when he attended a gala. Loras was polite, giving the proper amount of time to each lady, as he truly enjoyed galas, even if his partners could be lacking, and even if he’d never get to dance with the one he really loved.

However, Loras was surprised by you, pleasantly so. He loved that you knew the complicated steps he couldn’t try with other partners, and would give you challenges to keep up. You two would end up getting lost in the music, dancing through several songs. Several guests would stop dancing or talking just to watch, and you both usually got a hearty round of applause by the end of it.

Of course, you both would be exhausted and sweating, but he had a high respect for you and began seeing you as a friend.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

Brienne wasn’t crazy about guarding galas, as it just brought back painful memories of her own rejections and trying desperately to fit in. She’d sigh and bear it, moving all her focus to protecting you. She took the duty seriously, thus, she always watched you.

She began to admire the grace and beauty you had as you danced. She always thought you were pretty, but when you smiled and twirled, and your hair and gown moved with you, it was almost dream-like. More than once, her heart beat quickly as she watched you effortlessly pull off some move she couldn’t attempt or even name. She didn’t even pay attention to your partners, unless they were obviously pushing their boundaries - which she’d be quick to correct if you didn’t stop them first.

One day, you were in your practice room and she was once again taken with you. You noticed her staring, and asked if she’d like to help you practice.

Brienne was taken aback by the suggestion, and quickly became uncomfortable. She insisted there was no way she could be of any help. As you pressed her, she kept insisting, saying she wasn’t graceful and she’d just end up hurting you.

She sat in on several other practice sessions, and you began to get specific with her. You’d ask her to stand still or hold you a certain way so you could practice a dance. She’d get what you were doing right away, but she’d be obedient, trying to calm her beating heart. As you two became closer, and you reassured her, she’d slowly try to hold you and try a few moves, but she’d quickly lose confidence and retreat into herself.

At one gala, during the last dance, a lord was much too forward with you and even tried to follow after you once it ended. Brienne was quick to put him in his place, face-first on the ground. She escorted you back to your room, noticing how upset you were by the whole ordeal.

“Who cares about the last dance, anyway? It’s just stupid ceremony, yet men act like fools over it,” You ranted, taking off your heels and dress. Brienne agreed, trying not to be distracted by you disrobing.

“My last dance will be with whomever I please. Brienne?”

She stood at attention. “My lady?”

You held out your hands, dressed in only your nightgown. “Will you be my last dance, my knight?”

She blushed to her ears and began to refuse, but she thought of all the men who would try to grab you, coerce you into a dance or just act tasteless. Setting her sword aside, she took your hands carefully. You hummed a song and led her into it, and she swore you could hear her heart beneath her armor. In spite of all her worries and insecurities, she loved having you so close, and she couldn’t stop herself from giving you a proper knightly kiss on your hand once your impromptu dance finished.

RAMSAY BOLTON

You knew of Ramsay’s reputation when you married him. You weren’t a fool, you were aware he certainly had feelings for you, and he was willing to keep his more … unsavory aspects away from you, for the most part. He was especially good at playing the dutiful lord husband where guests were concerned, although Roose still kept an eye on him during galas.

You adored dancing and you weren’t going to stop just because he didn’t partake. But to your surprise, one day he took you in his arms, and impressed you with how he followed the music and steps. He was rather clumsy, and perhaps a little too fast, but it was obvious he had been practicing.

You complimented Ramsay, and he was clearly pleased, holding you closer and giving you that charming smile he liked to use. You could always see behind it, but this time it seemed genuine. Sometimes he’d slip up and give you a kiss, often whispering something less than appropriate to you, but before you knew it several songs played and you had enjoyed yourself.

He was still holding onto you when a man came up, asking for your hand. Ramsay looked confused, then clearly irritated, and you had to remind him. “My lord, it’s customary to change partners every other song.”

“Is that so?” His expression changed again, to a darker one you easily recognized. He handed you over to the man, obviously not enjoying it, and you hoped he stayed out of trouble.

As you danced with other partners, you could see he had a few dances with other girls, but then he returned to the table. You could tell there was strong emotion brewing behind his eyes, you just couldn’t be sure what he’d do.

One of the lords dancing with you was quite drunk, and ended up stumbling. You tried to catch him, but he grabbed ahold of you, specifically on your backside. Before you could push him off, Ramsay was already there, taking the man by the collar. The room went totally quiet as he smiled. “I’d recommend you find a different place for those hands, my lord, or they’ll end up separated from your wrists.”

You pulled Ramsay away and Roose urged the musicians to continue. Before you could even speak to Ramsay, he had you in his arms again, but this time with far more possessiveness. He gripped your waist and brought the two of you completely together, and kissing your neck as you two swayed to the song. He began to bite you and leave marks, his tone sweet but his words told you that you belonged to him, and if you or any lords forgot, he’d be more than happy to remind them.

ROOSE BOLTON

It was common knowledge among the Northern lords that Roose didn’t dance at galas. He wasn’t the only Northern lord who did this, of course, but he already had a reputation for being cold. He’d simply sit at the table, observing the guests and occasionally speaking when it was polite.

It wasn’t until Roose was courting you that he finally stood, asking you for the first dance. You were just as surprised as anyone else, but you accepted, and you couldn’t help but notice the confidence and ease that he held you with. His movements weren’t flourishing or energetic, but held your attention with his steely eyes. Occasionally, he’d murmur in your ear a lovely compliment, and it would almost break your concentration.

You noticed as the dances would go on, he’d bring you closer, and you didn’t mind at all. Afterward, he may have accepted a dance here or there from someone else, but he really didn’t get asked, and he seemed quite fine with that. He’d sit at the table at his usual spot, his eyes following you, sometimes catching your gaze and giving an expression that you couldn’t place.

He was able to catch you for the last dance once or twice, and his movements were so slow and steady, it was almost hypnotizing. You found yourself swaying into him, sometimes leaning, and you had to remind yourself to keep an appropriate distance - but then he’d gently pull you back in. As your cheeks flushed, he asked why you suddenly became so shy, and you managed some excuse. At the end of it, he took your hand and gave you a perfectly polite kiss that still gave you goosebumps because of the way he lingered and kept his eyes on you.

Once you married, he’d only dance with you. During a gala, he’d keep an eye on which men were dancing with you - if he felt one was keeping too close, or one was dancing with you too often, he’d come from seemingly nowhere and more or less threaten them away, always in his calm tone. Then he’d take you in his arms, swaying you in his gentle and slow way. As you melted into it, he’d give you a kiss on your brow or cheek. He’d whisper to you sometimes, complimenting your loveliness or reminding you that you two still had the business of making an heir.

At the last dance, he’d only seem to want you more, especially if he was feeling jealous through the night. His long fingers would softly rub the small of your back, often slipping lower if he could get away with it, and he’d give several kisses to your lips and neck. By the end of it, you’re usually a mess, and you’d want the gala to hurry up and be over so you two could get to your shared bedroom.

EDMURE TULLY

As much as his father and sisters attempted to instruct him, Edmure was always clumsy with his feet. Lysa and Catlyn often teased him, pulling him into the practice room and insisting he dance with them. He attended several galas through the years, always quite shy and sort of bumbling when he was dragged to dance with someone.

When your mother not so subtly suggested that you two dance, the panic on his face was obvious. You were probably the most beautiful girl he’d met, and now he’d be making a fool of himself in front of you. You took his hand, giving him a gentle smile, whispering that it would be okay.

You took the lead and he was surprised by how kind you were. You would quietly instruct him and carefully guide him, and he became confident, enjoying several dances with you. He was so disappointed to hand you over to someone else, he almost forgot to kiss your hand.

After you two married, Edmure actually put a lot more work into his practice, since you loved dancing so much and he wanted to spend time with you. He admired your confidence in all things, but especially when all eyes were on you as you went from partner to partner. He’d try to participate as much as he could, but he still was quite clumsy and didn’t want to slow you down, although you insisted he was doing quite well.

When the last dance came, he almost couldn’t wait to be by your side. Your cheeks would be flushed from the evening, and he’d lovingly brush some of your stray hair behind your ear before taking your hand and waist in the last dance. He probably couldn’t resist giving you a kiss on your cheek or forehead, being a little embarrassed by his own behavior. Once it finished, he’d again lose himself and give you a lovely kiss before remembering propriety and placing a kiss on your hand.

Once the evening is over, he’s incredibly attentive to you, massaging your legs and getting you water or whatever you needed. When you tease him about it, he blushes quite a bit, but says he can’t help but look after and spoil his lovely wife.

BRYNDEN TULLY

When you first asked him to dance, he laughed out loud, assuming you were joking. When you insisted, he certainly was surprised, but he set his ale down and gladly stood to join you.

The Blackfish knew he wasn’t graceful in any sense of the word, but he held you firmly, and he led with confidence. If he ever missed any steps, he recovered so smoothly it was hard to tell. He didn't give a damn about any gossip between the two of you, and respected that you felt the same.

Often you’d push yourself closer to him, and he’d grin, only holding you tighter, making your heart race. He’d have plenty of witty comments, loving to see you laugh as your cheeks were flushed from the exercise, and maybe you two could sneak in a few flirtatious whispers. He loved how small you were in his arms, and sometimes he'd make a snide comment about hoping his brother and the Riverlands court were thoroughly scandalized by the two of you.

Brynden would really only have a few dances with you before insisting you ought to partner with some younger men, and better suitors. Even if you’d pout, he’d sit down and go back to drinking and joking with his friends. However, he’d unmistakably look up and watch you, loving to see you twirl and move, and sometimes laughing to himself whenever his nephew nearly stepped on your feet. If he was feeling particularly bold and had plenty of drink, he’d swoop you up for the last dance, insisting to your partner that you were in good hands - and really, it was hard to argue with such a man, especially when he was already whisking you away.

At the end of the evening, he always gave you a “proper” kiss on the hand, which you know he wasn’t taking seriously at all, as he'd often give you a wink or would scoff at anyone staring. You’d kiss him on the cheek in return.

Once the guests were turning to their rooms, Brynden would find you, pulling you into an empty hall to give you a proper kiss, grumbling about damned propriety. You'd laugh softly as you guided him to your room, though he'd insist on carrying you, delighting in how you'd hold onto him.

OBERYN MARTELL

Oberyn vastly preferred the galas in Dorne, which had both livelier music and dance. As much as he enjoyed causing a little ruckus or scandal here and there at typical galas, for the most part, they uninterested him.

He ended up attending one, and he was quite ready to leave and find himself amongst far more interesting company. Then, he spotted you just in time, and he wondered where such a beautiful and graceful gem had been hiding all along. Surely he had to have heard of you, and when he realized he hadn't, he would make sure you knew of him.

He more or less whisked you from his partner and pulled you into a dance full of energy, and he was delighted as you met his unpredictable steps. He'd flirt shamelessly, asking all about you, and if you'd be interested in meeting him in a … less formal setting. There would be endless gossip on you and the Dornish prince, but you didn't care, and danced the rest of the night with Oberyn. It was obvious he loved dancing as much as you did, and he made for a wonderful partner.

You attended a gala at Dorne for his brother's birthday, and Oberyn couldn't believe his luck you that were there. He pulled you into his arms at once, bringing you close and instructing you in the more sensual Dornish dances that most of Westeros was too scandalized by. If you would have him, he'd want you to be his paramour by the end of the night.

Oberyn liked to watch you at galas, and how you adapted so well to other partners and enjoyed every song, not taking a moment to rest. It was painfully obvious how taken he was with you by the way he’d smile in your direction, and when you two danced, you seemed lost in your own world. In the evenings, he’d do his utmost to spoil you and soothe your sore legs, praising your grace and movement the entire time.

YARA GREYJOY

As hard and bitter as the Iron Islands were, they liked loud music and good drink as well as any place in the Seven Kingdoms. Sometimes a tavern would just be full of both, and a great party would carry on into the night. You loved partaking in these, losing yourself in the music and singing along with the old sea shanties, even if you had plenty of hands to slap away. You didn’t let a bunch of foolish, drunk men ruin your fun.

Yara had seen you plenty of times before, and of course you knew her. She’d sit back with a drink and watch you sway your hips to the beat, and you’d give her a smirk or a wink in return. You were patient, she was not - eventually, she’d finish off her drink, stand up, shove off whatever man was hovering around you and bring you close to her.

You loved teasing the Greyjoy captain, often saying things like “My, haven’t we met before?”. Sometimes she played into it with you, other times she just hovered close to your ear and responded, “You know exactly who I am.”

You could tell Yara wanted to see you at times other than this, by the way she’d talk of you two ‘touring’ her ship’s quarters or where she might find you again, but you liked to keep her on her toes.

PETYR BAELISH

When Petyr asked you to dance with his disarming smile, you didn’t realize what you were in for. He was an absolute natural, holding you and leading you with expertise. He moved quickly, forcing you to keep up, but you loved the challenge. Fast songs that most people would sit out for were no problem for him, and he even had several sweet compliments for you, or playfully traded a few rumors he’d heard about you and some lord, secretly hoping you’d dispel them.

As you complimented him on his dancing, stating he was a natural, he’d brush it off with false modesty and insist he just practiced… but you knew from that prideful smirk that he was glad to impress you. He especially loved seeing you flushed and breathing heavily after several dances with him, imagining you with the same face in a much different setting.

If you were stuck with a particularly boring or sleazy partner, he’d time it perfectly, swooping in to rescue you right when you were at your wit’s end. With his usual charisma, he’d tell them you were needed, perhaps giving a swift insult to them in the same breath. Sometimes he’d hint that you were already involved with someone else, and would be delighted if you wouldn’t correct him.

The other side of Petyr would come out if you were having fun with other men, laughing along with their jokes or enjoying their dancing. It wasn’t that they were men specifically, but they were lords, rich lords with far more money and lands than he had. At that moment, he’d wait again, taking you in his arms once you were free. His usual quick step and cadence would seem slower, more deliberate, as he’d bring you closer to him. He’d be smiling, but he’d whisper all the things he could give you, how much better he was than them, and how they’d all hurt you anyway.

BERIC DONDARRION

Sometimes around the campfire with the Brotherhood, they burst into song and drunkenly dance along. You often felt a little out of place with them, even if you believed in them, as you were a highborn lady. They began singing a song you were familiar with, and since you had a few drinks yourself, you pulled Beric up with you, asking for a dance. He surprised you with properly holding your waist and hand, and you remembered he was a lord before this.

The men began to whistle and holler as you two attempted a waltz, but eventually it came back to you and you guided him. He laughed, as he had mostly forgotten, and cooed about how cute and lovely you looked. Eventually you slipped a bit and he caught you, picked you up and sat you back down with him, giving you plenty of kisses and holding him to you. You teased him, saying you wanted to keep dancing, and he promised he’d join you anytime you wanted one.

He knows you left behind a lot to join the Brotherhood, and as much as you say you love him, he still sometimes worries and just wants you to be happy. So he’s sees no problem in indulging in your dancing and singing, and often gets overwhelmed with how precious you are during those times.

Since he learned how much you enjoyed it, sometimes he’d surprise you, scooping you up and pulling you into a dance. Beric adored hearing you laugh with happiness, and he thought you looked especially pretty when two danced around the fire. Sometimes you’d jokingly teach his men how to dance ‘proper’, and even though they were playing around, Beric would get a little forlorn and eventually pull you back to him.

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

When you tried explaining to Tormund what galas and dancing in the South was like, he’d be quite confused, not understanding the point of it, but he just loved to hear you talk and describe it. Eventually he’d ask for a demonstration, and since you two were alone, you’d sigh and give it a try. “Well, it would be a bit easier to show you if I had another person-”

Instantly he’d stand up, and you’d laugh at his enthusiasm. You’d take his hands and guide him, rolling your eyes at his whistling when he grasps your waist and instantly brings you close to him. You try to attempt a few steps, but he’s having so much fun holding onto you and peppering you with kisses that you just laugh and let him.

He’d try to show you some wildling dances he’s picked up, although they’re few and far between, and mostly ceremonial. Again, he’d have so much fun watching you that he’d get distracted and just want to hold you.

At some point, when you’d all be gathered around a fire, someone brought up galas. You jokingly danced with Jon, who could somewhat remember the steps, and Tormund suddenly felt a little jealous. He got between the two of you, again holding to you and bringing you to his lap. He’d want to try it again, although he’d be quite drunk and would just end up holding you to him and swaying. You’d give him several kisses, all while whispering what sort of dresses you’d wear for him and how you two would dance. More than once you two would’ve been told to get a room.

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finneve · 4 years ago

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Greensleeves

Pairing- Steve Rogers x first person reader, Bucky Barnes x first person reader

warnings- none really?

summary- a game of hide ‘n’ seek becomes a torrid rendezvous. Medieval AU. King Steve.

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“My lords, shall you join our game? It would be more fun with you,’ Natasha called out over the extensive gardens.

Splayed out on the lawn, us three girls had finished off a picnic and were now in the mood for a more active pursuit. After listening to Lady Wanda recite poetry for the tenth time, the Lady Natasha had announced a more invigorating game was needed. Simply laughing, I flick a peach pit away. It was then that Natasha had spied the two lords coming along the path between the rose bushes.

“What is the game?” Lord Samuel Wilson called back. They meandered closer to where our little picnic was placed.

A jovial smile was plastered over the lord Wilson’s face, making his already striking features even more handsome. With him was Lord James Barnes, one of the King’s closest friends. The dark hair that normally hung around his face had been raked back into a knot. Eyeing him eagerly, I felt Wanda nudge me with her elbow. As he neared, Lord James shot me a quick wink to pair with that devilish smirk. Natasha had picked her victims well, knowing that the pair would eagerly play any game we set before them.

“Hide and seek of course,” I proclaim for them.

“And you want us to be the seekers?” Lord Barnes questioned; his gaze still affixed to me.

“We are better at hiding and we can switch around later,” Wanda pointed out.

“Shall we play then?” Lord Wilson smirked. His words spurred everyone up to their feet. James was quick to dash in and offer his hand to me to help with my ascent. His hand tugged me in close. Near flush against him, I bit back a coy smile.

“Bucky,” his name was soft on my lips.

“Fly away little dove and hide well,” his whisper, soft and filled with hidden intent, was just for me.

Flashing a smirk at him, I reefed away, before starting towards the maze of hedges at the end of the garden. Wanda and Natasha slipped away in the opposite direction, both giggling madly.

“QUICK, QUICK, ladies,’ Samuel voice boomed out. Loudly the lords start counting down the seconds until they could begin their hunt. Stifling a laugh, I hurried further into the maze not wanting to make it easy for them. With a final glance over my shoulder, I spied Lord Barnes and his predatory gaze. I threw a small wave before disappearing from view.

Shifting shadows crept along behind me as I dashed. Eyes darted about, searching still for that perfect place to call sanctuary until I had won. Scurrying into an alcove I threw myself onto the stone seat placed there. A cool breeze washed over my skin while I panted, eager to catch my breath once more.

Hidden in the maze, I giggle as I hear Lord Barnes’s voice calling for me, enticing me to give myself up. Proud claims that they had already found Natasha and Wanda echoed along the deserted corridors of the hedges. but the thick edge to his voice hinted at what he would do when he found me. No, I wouldn’t allow him to draw this game to a close so quickly.

Deserting my station, I made off further into the maze. Twisting back around the maze led me back toward the castle wall. Running along the stony path, my mind raced with thoughts of Bucky and his devilish intent, of amorous kisses before we returned to our friends. Constantly I looked back, trying to spy his shadow stalking along after me. Until the next corner, it wasn’t until that bend that I hit an obstacle. Skidding straight into a thick wall of muscle. Stumbling back, I hit the ground with a dull thud.

Strong hands shot out to bring me back up. Taking the offered hand, I scramble to my feet, trying not to gape so like a fool. The barrier of a man towered over me. His hands gripped over mine, like a snare over an unwitting rabbit. Sunbeams shone his golden hair as if a halo were truly his crown.

“Oh, my king,” I dropped a quick half curtsy. A rumbling hum was his response. Stoic features now bore a gentle smile.

“Are you winning the game?”

“As long as Lord Barnes doesn’t find me,” I stated truthfully, “I think he does delight in the chase though,”

“I would delight too, to be so blessed with your company for an afternoon, or more,’ Steve tilted his head, gaze softening evermore. With a final tug I freed my hands from his vice like hold. But even so, he stepped closer, pushing his dominating authority over my heated body.

“Surely my King has more important matters to attend to then play games with me and other ladies?” I flustered over my skirts, brushing away any dirt and wrinkles. It was an emerald green gown that Natasha had gifted me when she had grown out of it, last summer.

What was he doing here? I bit my lip at the thought. Returning his gaze, it was hard not to get lost in the ocean blue that was his eyes.

“I spied you from the window, and couldn’t resist joining the hunt,” his hum seemed to answer my question.

“Would you cast me off so discourteously? Like a squire with whom you kissed on a dare?” he queried, “am I not good enough for the game?”

“No, my King, I just believed you to be above such things,” picking at the sleeve of my dress, I could feel the sting of a blush heat my face. it was easier to focus on the loose thread then the king’s flirtatious words.

“Alas, my love, you do me wrong,” His large hands ensnaring my own once more. Shifting back, I felt the leaves of the hedges brush over my skin and hair. The prick of the hedge thorns pressed into my skin as he crowded my form into the shrubbery.

“My lady Greensleeves,” Steve smirked, “shall that be the pet name I call you? You do look an utter vision in green,”

“all my delight and joy, adorned in sleeves of green,” he leaned in further, lips ghosting over my exposed collarbone, before stopping at my ear. A barely there peck to the pearls that hung from my earrings.

“You are but my heart of gold,”

“My lady, if it is my love that you would own, I give it freely,” Steve pulls back, allowing me to take in his expression once more. His blue eyes darkened over with yearning and need.

“My king, you know I am promised to another,” I gaze up at him. I didn’t want to really remind him that I was promised to one of his lords, but Bucky would still be searching for me in the maze. There was ever chance he could stumble across this clandestine meeting any moment.

‘Would you break my heart so easily?’ he looked pointed at me.

‘it would not be on purpose, my King,’

“Oh, how I wish you would call me Steve,” he mumbled lifting up my hand to press kisses to my knuckles. A sigh escapes me before I could stop it and spurs on a smile from the handsome king.

“We seem to be a world apart, yet close enough for you to hold my heart in captivity,” his poetic words dizzying but enthralling. Placing one of my hands to his chest, the other finds a home bunched in the fabric of his jacket at his waist.

‘Why do you enrapture me so?’ his lips find my cheek.

“I do not truly know, Steve, for I didn’t try to,”

‘but yet I remain, a lover in captivity,’ he sighed, ‘alone, awaiting the day when your sun shines upon me,’

The dazzling smile faded replaced by the dip of a frown. His hands slipped to my waist, pulling my form tight against his own.

‘I will be ready, at the quiver of your hand and heart,”

“Please, my king, do not talk of such things,” I pulled out of his grasp but still his hands found purchase at my waist. They were unwilling to let me move any further from his impressive bulk.

“but I must, you need to know that I would grant whatever you would crave,” his lips ghosted over the shell of my ear.

‘I would wager both life and land for the chance claim your love and good-will,”

“Shall I have my men dress in green too, or shall I have all the fields of the land planted with flowers for you, all the finest silk dresses embroidered with gold and silver, order the bards to sing songs of your beauty and strength? His grip snaked around my waist, drawing me in ever closer, threatening to lift me from the ground, “cause I will gladly do it even just to see you smile,”

‘I have no need of mighty deeds or rings and jewels,’ insistent, I stare into his ocean like eyes. So easy it would be to get lost in them, pulled under and drowned in the most pleasant of ways. He purrs softly as I move to caress his beard.

With zeal, Steve leaned in, his plump lips pushed against mine. A soft delicate kiss, but so filled with a burning desire. His ministrations grew needy as Steve deepened the kiss. Returning this affection, I smiled, feeling his tongue flick across my parted lips. But all too soon he broke the embrace, but stayed close. His forehead resting against mine.

“I pray that you may see my steadfast heart to be true to your own and will return that love most ardently,” he panted through a whisper “in the embrace of my arms,”

‘for now, then we part,”

Suddenly his hands released my waist, and I had to steady myself against the hedgerow to stop my knees from buckling. Never before had a man made me feel so, like a dizzy girl in the middle of a daydream. Even when I had a sword in my hand, or the draw of a bow pulled sharp.

“I will remain your lover true, but you must come again, to love me,” his promise demanded one too. Hesitantly a sharp nod gave him my agreement.

“My lady of Greensleeves,” his even tone hummed the nickname. The rumble of a chuckle reverbed off him, hitting me with dizzying affect.

Biting back a soft moan, I yearned to be back in his strong arms. Jerking his head, Steve motioned for me to return to the Ladies and their games. I had almost forgotten about Wanda and Natasha. But I would return triumphant and declare myself the winner of Hide and Seek. Even the Lords Barnes and Wilson would have to concede defeat.

Picking up my skirts, I pulled away from Steve and back down the garden path. To the calls from my friends and away from the most determined King Steven. A shiver ran down my spine as I gently touched my lips, where his had been moments before. I pondered how serious he was in his claims of love? How far would he go to get what he wanted? Shaking the worrying thoughts from my mind, I hurried back to the beckoning voice of my intended.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #mcu au #king!steve rogers x reader #medieval au #avengers fanfiction #stucky #chris evans fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfiction

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honeybunny-sawamura · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 2: 5 Times the Stars Tried to Align & 1 Time it Did

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of harassment (nothing in detail), light swearing (like only twice)

Word count: 5.6k

1. Grocery store

It has been about a week since Daichi had gone with Detective Takei to the skating arena and the young officer will admit that he can’t really get Miss Nozomi Hoshikai out of his mind. He finds himself recalling her performance, her shy smiles, and soft blushes during the lull parts of the day before snapping back to reality and going back to burying himself in work. He had stopped by the ice rink two days ago to get any more information on the perpetrator… And maybe see the pretty figure skater again. But when he asked if she was around, he was told that Miss Hoshikai was away for some training. Daichi couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

Now, he’s at a grocery store picking up dinner after work. He groans and rolls his shoulders before reaching to grab a pack of beer; today was a long and grueling day and he needed to go home pronto and just relax. He looks into his basket at what he’s got: along with the beer, there’s a couple of instant ramen, pre-made food, and some snacks. He really should be eating healthier, but Daichi figures he’s allowed to have a cheat day after the shit he’s been through today. He compromises with himself and decides to pick up something to actually make for his day off tomorrow: some fluffy pancakes sound nice. He heads into an aisle, looking for a good pancake mix when he notices a young lady trying to reach for something on the very top of the shelves. She’s quite short and he guesses she can barely come up to his shoulders. She’s tippy toeing to try and reach a bag of brownie mix before sighing in slight frustration then trying to jump for it. Daichi lets out an amused huff before heading over to go and lend a hand.

“Can I help you?” he asks when he approaches the young lady. He is pleasantly surprised when she turns around and he sees that it’s Miss Nozomi Hoshikai. Her coffee brown eyes light up in recognition and a small smile graces her face. He feels a flutter in his chest as he takes in how cute she looks without the make-up and ornate figure skating outfit he met her in days before; she looks so cozy.

“Ah, Officer Sawamura. Hello.” She greets with a polite bow.

“Miss Hoshikai.” The officer reciprocates with a small salute then a bow as well. She giggles at his formality then takes in his appearance. Daichi is still in his police attire but he’s also got on a puffy jacket and his cap is nowhere to be seen. Nozomi admits to herself that he looks very handsome in his uniform, whereas she probably looks like a mess in a faded hoodie and threadbare jeans with her hair in a lopsided bun. Just her luck to run in with the dashing Officer Sawamura looking like this.

“I’m a bit surprised to see you. Did you just finish work?” Nozomi tries to start the conversation, pointing out his state of dress. Daichi looks down at himself and then nods with a slight chuckle.

“Yeah. Just grabbing dinner and maybe tomorrow’s breakfast.” he answers and brings up his basket as proof. He somewhat regrets it when Nozomi leans in to peek in his basket with a curious hum; Daichi really wishes he had picked up better things.

“Oh! I like those too!” the skater happily points to some rice crackers he’s got in his basket then grins up at him. He isn’t prepared for that sunny smile and his brain stutters for a moment. Clearing his throat to stop himself from staring at her, Daichi looks over her head to the brownie mix she was trying to reach for earlier.

“So umm…” He starts to say, jutting his chin to the item above her. Nozomi follows his gaze before making a cute ‘o’ with her mouth and flusters a bit.

“Ah yes! Umm… Could you help me? Please?” She asks, tilting her chin down a bit and looking at him through her eyelashes in bashfulness. This makes Daichi’s cheeks burn, throat dry, and palms sweaty. He easily plucks the mix from the shelf and gives it to her, even though he feels like his motions are jerky and robotic. She happily takes it from him and grins at him again.

“Thank you! It’s been a while, but I really like baking! Cookies and brownies especially!” Nozomi tells him. Suddenly, Daichi is imagining her in a cute frilly apron, mixing up some batter while something is already in the oven baking. Interestingly, it’s his kitchen he’s picturing her in.

“I hope my little toaster oven can handle.” She ponders aloud that the officer snaps out of his imagination.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He assures her as he pushes his daydream to the side. The figure skater nods in agreement.

“Thank you again. And thank you for stopping by the arena a couple of days ago! Someone mentioned to me that you came by to check on us.” Her eyes are shining with admiration and the blush on Daichi’s cheek darken.

“Ah yes! I- I just wanted to get as many statements and evidence as I can. And to make sure you’re all safe.” He explains to her, ducking his head a little and rubbing the back of his neck with a free hand.

“You’re so sweet. Thank you so much.” She tells him with such softness that the flutter in Daichi’s chest grows.

“Zomi? Did you get it?” comes a silky voice down the grocery aisle. Daichi and Nozomi look over to see an alluring and smartly dressed woman approach. The figure skater nods at her and shows the brownie mix while listing off the other things she needs to grab. The other woman listens but throws a glance at Daichi, a perfectly shaped eyebrow lifting in interest. Nozomi notices and introduces them to one another; Shiori, her best friend and Officer Sawamura, the officer helping with the skating arena’s predicament. They greet each other respectively but her best friend looks him up and down as if she were assessing him. He admits the other woman is quite intimidating. Daichi, feeling like he should let the two women finish their shopping, excuses himself but not without grabbing the pancake mix he came for then giving Nozomi a mock salute as a farewell. She laughs at that and salutes him back. As he’s walking away, he thinks he hears a “He’s handsome.” then a cute giggle. If his ears turn red in embarrassment, no one is around to point it out.

2. Bookstore

Daichi scans through the rows of books before looking down at his phone again to read a text Suga had sent him a couple of days earlier. He had gotten a book recommendation from the silver haired elementary teacher and he had promised to try and get into it. Daichi, on occasions, will read during his free time if the book is interesting. So when Suga suggested this one, he thought he’d take a look. His eyebrows furrow as his search seems to be unfruitful. The busy bookstore employee could only point out to where the book could be found before another customer came badgering for help. Daichi figured this is what he gets for going to the main station’s bookstore during rush hour and thought that he could handle looking for the book himself. But after a good couple of minutes looking and no results, Daichi sighs and runs a hand through his hair; maybe he’ll try buying it online.

“Need help?” comes a voice to his side and he makes a small sound of relief thinking it’s another employee coming to aid him. Instead, he finds that it’s Miss Hoshikai. She’s got hair up and face done all prettily this time. And judging by her looks and apparel, it seems like she had just gotten out of skating practice. She’s smiling at him, eyes twinkling with amusement, and a few books in her arms.

“Hello, Officer Sawamura. Nice running into you again!” She greets him.

“Nice to see you too, Miss Hoshikai.” He returns and adds a mock salute like last time; it never fails to make her laugh. A smile spreads on Daichi’s face at the sound of her laughter; he finds the sound pretty. He leans over a bit to look at the books she’s carrying around and Nozomi, taking notice, tilts them to him so he can see the titles better.

“Something to help get any inspiration for future skating routines. And a few for some light reading.” She explains as she holds up a shojo manga as an example of light reading.

“What about you? You seemed to be looking for something?” Nozomi pulls him back into what he was doing before and Daichi nods.

“Actually yeah, I’m looking for a book a friend suggested to me. Would you know it?” he shows her Suga’s text with the suggested title. She lets out an “Ah!” and then with a “Follow me!” she leads him to the next aisle and they both look for the book. It doesn’t take them too long to find what Daichi has been looking for, but they stay behind to look at other books; talking about which one’s they’ve read or if this one has been made into a movie or not. Daichi takes up another book when Nozomi finds one that she’s read before and excitedly tells him about without much spoilers. He’s interested to know what books she takes pleasure in reading.

They spent a good time wandering about the bookstore chatting and looking at different subjects together: flipping through manga they’ve read as teens as well as finding books on weird subjects. At one point, Daichi picks up one that looks to be harmless only for both of them to go bright red when they peek into a random page. Daichi hastily shoves the book back where it belongs while Nozomi tries her best to stifle her giggles. And somewhere between the history and psychology sections of the store, the two began playing hide-n-seek; peeking through shelves and surprising each other around corners. But their little game stops when a couple of other customers raise their eyebrows at them; some even shaking their heads at their silly behavior. Blushes rising to their cheeks, the officer and skater hurry to the register to buy their books and leave the store. Once outside, the two of them stare at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing.

“Thank you for the help and book suggestions.” Daichi says once their laughter dies down. To emphasize, he holds up the three books he’s got in his hands. He’s gifted with a bright smile from Nozomi.

“Anytime! I hope you like them!” she chirps. There’s a moment’s pause and it looks like Nozomi is about to say something when an incoming text pings on Daichi’s phone. He checks it to see that some co-workers were planning to meet up for drinks and were extending an invitation to him.

“Well… I best be going.” Daichi quickly looks up to Nozomi as she motions to where the station gates are. He opens and shuts his mouth, wanting to say something but not really knowing what to say to make her stay. So, he just nods and offers a wave.

“See you around?” he tries and Nozomi’s smile turns fond. Like the time at the grocery store, something flutters in his chest.

“Of course. Hope to see you soon, Officer Sawamura.”

“Likewise, Miss Hoshikai.”

3. Train

“ -enri Station. Please get off here for the Chuo Line.”

Daichi blinks as the train’s announcement pulls him away from his thoughts. He takes a moment to observe the car he’s in before going back to looking out the window. He had taken the weekend off to go out of town and visit a relative. Being stationed in the big city had its perks but there were times when the young officer got homesick. He lives too far to see his family often so he’s grateful he knows someone who lives a couple train rides away that can ease the loneliness. Daichi lets out a sigh and watches as the scenery slows with the train pulling up into the station. If he could, he would’ve taken his car, but it was currently in the shop for maintenance. He didn’t mind taking the train for this trip though; letting himself just be and zone out by watching the fields and landscapes whizz by.

As the doors slid open, a few people came trickling into the train car: a businessman, two high school students, a mother with her son, and an elderly woman. Daichi immediately stands up and offers his seat to the latter, who bows in appreciation and even pats his arm as she sits down. He smiles at her and after making sure she was seated, takes his bag and stands by the door to again stare out at the scenery. The chime to warn passengers that the train doors were closing rang out, but someone suddenly came rushing through; barely making it into the car before the doors shut. However, the poor person was still in momentum and looked like they were going to ram into the two high schoolers until Daichi puts himself between them just in time and caught the hurried passenger. The person lets out an “oof!” when they collided into him, but because they were quite small and Daichi was pretty sturdy, there didn’t seem to be any harm.

“Omg! I’m so sorry!” Daichi recognizes that voice and looks down to see the familiar face of the pretty figure skater known as Nozomi. At first, her face was scrunched up in worry: eyebrows furrowed, and mouth formed into a pout. But when she realizes who is staring down at her, the young woman’s eyes widen in shock and her eyebrows shoot up. Red rushes to her cheeks and he is pretty sure his are similar in color.

“Miss Hoshikai.” Daichi says breathlessly.

“Officer Sawamura!” Nozomi yelps. The two of them stare at each other; neither of them moving as she’s pressed against his chest and he’s got his arms around her. The jerk of the train pulling away from the station knocks them back into their senses and they pull away as if they had been burned. Daichi coughs as if to hide his embarrassment while Nozomi tucks a strand of hair behind her ear in nervousness. From the corner of his eye, Daichi thinks he sees some of the passengers snicker at the two of them.

“I’m really, really sorry. Are you hurt?” Nozomi asks him, worry back on her face. Daichi waves a hand to assure her that he’s alright.

“I’m fine. What about you? You okay?” he returns the question and even looks her over for any injuries. The worry slips away from the ice skater’s face and she nods.

“I’m okay. Thank you for saving me.” She gives him a small shy smile that kicks up that flutter in his chest whenever he sees her. He does his best to push it down and calm it, but it lingers.

“You’re welcome. Where are you headed by the way? You were in such a rush to catch this train.” Daichi inquires, genuinely curious. She flashes him one of her grins before answering,

“Ah! I’m heading back home actually. I stayed over a friend’s place for the weekend. What about you?”

“Went to visit a cousin of mine. It was nice to catch up with him.” He responds and Nozomi nods in agreement. The two of them went more into detail of their weekend as the train cruised on. Soon the topic went to other things; like hobbies, places they’ve been to, and even current events. Daichi learnt that pretty figure skater liked sweets, had monthly karaoke nights with friends, and avoided anything dealing with ghosts. While Nozomi found out that the handsome police officer hit different ramen shops with colleagues to compare, was looking to get a dog if his apartment allowed it, and continues to play volleyball even after high school with some gym buddies. Speaking of high school, Daichi was shocked to know Nozomi had graduated from Shiratorizawa a year after he grad from Karasuno and that they were from the same area.

“Sorry, I just assumed you were from the city…” he says apologetically but she waves it off, unoffended.

“It’s no problem. I’m very much a city girl so it fits me!” They chatted a bit more before Nozomi’s stop was announced to be coming up. They were reluctant to part but neither of them voiced it out.

“Thank you again, Officer Sawamura. See you around!” she chirps as she stood up to leave.

“Nice seeing you again, Miss Hoshikai. Don’t go watching those horror movies before bed.” The officer responds teasingly, and he chuckles when she pouts at him.

“Tell that to my friends!” Nozomi huffs but laughs along when he does. They wave goodbye at each other when the train doors open and Daichi watches her hop onto the station platform. He loses sight of her when other passengers also get off the train and he figures she was already making her way to the station gates. But when the door closes and the train slowly beings to pull away, Daichi spots her still on the platform; waving one of her arms to bid him farewell. The fluttering in his chest that he had pushed down previously comes rising back up and he waves back until he could no longer see her.

4. Coffee Shop

Daichi was in need of some coffee. He had pulled an all-night patrol and instead of getting to going home when the sun started to rise, the precinct needed him to come over and fill out some paperwork. Saying he wasn’t happy about this was an understatement. Daichi can literally feel the bags under his eyes along with achy muscles and knots in his back. Daichi queues in line at a coffee shop that isn’t so busy despite it being the morning rush hour. He sleepily lifts his head to check the menu, even though he’s pretty sure he’s just getting a cup of straight black coffee. As he puts in order when he gets to the cashier, he glances over at the baked goods display and wonders if he should grab breakfast too. He takes a moment to think about it but decides against it. He’s about to pay, when a voice pipe ups from behind him,

“Add a bagel sandwich and I’ll pay!” Daichi whips around to see Nozomi looking up at him with her bright sunny smile.

“Miss Hoshikai!”

“Morning!” she happily greets him and gently brushes past him to add in her order with the cashier and pay for his and hers. Daichi, totally sleep deprived, could only stare in bewilderment before his brain caught up with the situation and the officer flusters about.

“Ah! Miss Hoshikai! I can-! You don’t hav-! I just-“ he tries but he’s met with the same sunny grin after Nozomi finishes the transaction.

“Think of it as a thank you for all you hard work and that time on the train.” She reasons with him and once she has the receipt, she ushers them over to the side to wait for their order. Once she gets a good look at him though, the figure skater frowns,

“I thought you looked tired when I saw you enter the shop. But now… You look absolutely exhausted.” She tells him. Daichi blushes but he can’t deny it when he knows he’s got bags under his eyes and his hair is messy and probably greasy. That thought makes him wish the floor could swallow him; ashamed to be looking like a mess in front of the pretty figure skater. He probably looks ghastly standing next to Nozomi who’s got a cute pink coat dress on and her hair looking so soft and fluffy while down.

“It’s… It’s been a long night.” He sighs tiredly, running a hand through his hair and down his face. He sees a look of guilt join in with worry on her face.

“Oh… I’m sorry… I-“ she started.

“No no! I… You… Thank you. For treating me.” He tells her genuinely. He is honestly flattered that she’s doing this for him, and it makes that fluttering in his chest go crazy. A soft blush spreads across Nozomi’s face and she gives him a shy smile.

“Y-You’re welcome. Again, you look so tired. I wanted to do something nice and make you smile.” She explains bashfully. The flutter in him intensifies and he has to stop himself from clutching at his chest.

“You always make me smile” He replies softly. When he sees her eyes widen and cheeks go bright red, Daichi realizes what he said and combusts in crimson as well. They stare at each other, not knowing what to say. After a minute or so, Nozomi opens her mouth to say something but,

“Order for Zomi!” the two of them jump at the intrusion and turn to look at the exasperated barista. They quickly take their things and with embarrassed thank you’s, they exit the coffee shop.

“Again, thank you.” Daichi says, holding up his coffee and sandwich. He still feels awkward about what he said in the coffee shop but he still has a mind to thank her. Nozomi nods, clutching her own drink in both hands while the blush on her face lingers.

“You’re welcome.” is her only reply. Daichi hesitates, a suggestion of them going out to get coffee together on his tongue. But before he can get it out, the radio on his uniform crackles loudly. It makes Nozomi jolt and Daichi fumbles to grab it to tell whoever it is on the other line that he’s on the way. He sighs once the message is received and gives an apologetic look for frightening her. She waves a hand to say she’s alright.

“Looks like you have to go.” She utters softly, sounding disappointed. Daichi feels the same.

“Yeah.” He confirms in the same tone, shoulders starting to slump. He’d rather be at home in bed than go back to the precinct. He’d rather be enjoying coffee with the pretty girl in front of him than go back to work. But said girl gives him that bright sunny smile from earlier, though a bit softer, and it boosts his will to get the last hour of his shift done.

“I’ll see you around, Officer Sawamura.”

“Nice seeing you again, Miss Hoshikai.”

5. Bar

Daichi, Suga, and Asahi always try to meet up every so often. Using this time to catch up with each other’s lives and just have fun. They’ll go anywhere: from amusement parks, to clubs, to even concerts. Tonight, they decided on an izakaya bar; just to drink and catch up.

They are already a couple of drinks in, chattering and laughing out loud. Their table has a few bottles of booze and a couple of entrée plates that they’re snacking on here and there. The three men were talking about their old volleyball days when Asahi brings up something that happened during that one summer training week during their third year. All of them burst out laughing; guffawing and hitting each other as they recount that event.

“Officer Sawamura?” Daichi almost chokes on his own laughter when a familiar voice calls out to him. He whips his head so fast, he almost gets whiplash, to see Nozomi standing by their table. She’s looking a little hesitant to say something, not wanting to barge in on his time hanging out with his friends.

“S-Sorry to interrupt… I just… Wanted to say hello.” She stutters slightly. Maybe it was the alcohol or the shock of seeing her in this bar, but Daichi couldn’t help but stare at the pretty figure skater. He drinks her in: dark brown eyes twinkling, dark hair down and framing her face. Her outfit is cute and casual, but it hinted the curves that were hidden underneath. He is unaware of how long he has been staring until Suga kicks him under the table and hisses at him. In a panic, Daichi stands up abruptly but ends up hitting his thighs against the underside of the table and causing a few things to clatter. While he groans in pain, he can hear Asahi and Suga stifling their laughter; letting out snorts and snickers while their shoulders shake trying to keep it in. Nozomi is also trying not to laugh by biting her lower lip. But the corners of her mouth were coming up, so she brought up a hand to hide it. Daichi opts to sit back down before he makes more of a fool of himself.

“It’s nice to see you again, Miss Hoshikai.” He finally replies and he kicks Suga under the table when he sees a smirk grow on the silver head’s face. Both friends have heard of her from the police officer and they often prodded him into asking her out. They can see that Daichi had it pretty bad for this girl and it was more evident now that they can see the situation up close.

“Nice to see you again too!” she gives a small bow in greeting. Her eyes flicker over to Suga and Asahi and again it takes a moment for Daichi to react properly. He introduces his friends to her, commenting about how he knew them since high school and that they played volleyball together. Asahi smiles and bows from where he’s sitting while Suga beams at her and reaches over the table to offer a handshake. Nozomi accepts it and introduces herself to them in return. Suga wastes no time in engaging in a conversation with her by asking how she knows the past Karasuno captain. Daichi almost groans, hoping that his friend won’t embarrass him. When he looks over to Asahi, the taller man gives him a knowingly look over the rim of his glass. Daichi glares at him but it just makes Asahi chuckle.

“Why don’t you join us?” comes Suga’s suggestion and Daichi can feel both dread and excitement thrum in his body. He would love it if Nozomi would join them. But he was sure he was drunk… Or getting there. Who knows what he’ll say to her while intoxicated? Also, having Asahi AND Suga here would just end up with both of them telling Nozomi embarrassing stories about him. Suga especially would never let him live.

“Ah, I’d love to but… I’m actually with some friends.” Nozomi declines and she points to a table in the other part of the bar that has a few young ladies sitting around. Daichi is again torn, this time in relief and disappointment. It must show on his face because she gives a reassuring smile at him and just him.

“Maybe next time.” She tells him with eyes shining with something. He doesn’t know what it is but Daichi can feel that damn fluttering in his chest go bonkers that it kinda hurts.

“I’d like that.” Is all he can say. He and Nozomi stare at each other for a bit before one of her friends calls for her. She bids Asahi and Suga a polite good-bye and a “Nice to meet you” before glancing back at Daichi and giving him another smile. Daichi watches her go, almost skipping back to her friends, and he can’t stop the goofy smile that slips onto his face.

“Dork…” he hears Suga tease followed by a punch to the arm. Asahi laughs as Daichi argues with Suga while the other man mocks him. The officer doesn’t notice Nozomi peeking behind her from where she sat with her friends and giggling to herself at how cute Daichi looked all flustered and a bit dazed.

+1. Ice Rink

Daichi had gotten the radio call when he was patrolling another part of the city: Another officer catching a man heckling a pair of young couple. When asked where the fellow officer was and if he needed back up, Daichi still made his way over to the precinct as his colleague reassured he was all good and that he picked up the creep around the skating arena. After interrogations and new witness statements, it was proven that they had the man who had been prowling around the arena and harassing the people coming and going there. Detective Takei made the call immediately to Mrs. Bessho about catching the harasser once a confession was given. So, in honesty, Daichi didn’t need to go and inform Miss Nozomi Hoshikai; she’d mostly likely be told about it by her coach.

Yet the next day, Daichi was sitting on the stands of the ice rink during his lunch break. He watches Nozomi and a few other women teach a group of children how to skate. He smiles at the sight of her holding the hand of a little girl, probably around 5 years old, as she helps her get used to gliding over the ice. It warms something in his heart at the way Nozomi encourages and praises the little girl; loving the way her face blooms into a smile when the little girl can skate along without her help. As if sensing his presence, Nozomi lifts her head and looks in his direction. Surprise colors her face until it’s replaced with fondness and that same smile he was admiring from afar was now directed at him. It makes his mouth go dry and he ducks his head in embarrassment; why was he here? The harasser had been caught and the case was on its way to being closed. Daichi didn’t need to be here. But deep down he knew why he was here: he wanted to see her again… On purpose. He was no longer satisfied with just the run ins the two of them seem to have frequently. He loves seeing her blush; how they go from the softest of pinks to the rosiest of red. He wants to make her smile; remembering how he always made her giggle with his salutes. He knows the melody of her voice; able to distinguish it over the chatter and laughter in the bar that time he was with Suga and Asahi.

“Hey.” Daichi lifts his head when that voice he was just thinking about breaks him out of his thoughts. Nozomi had made her way from the rink to sit next to him in the stands, head tilted to study him.

“Hey.” He replies, smiling at her.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on patrol?”

“On my lunch break… I actually wanted to see how you were doing.” He confesses.

“Doing good! I was told you caught him! Thank you so much for finally getting him.”

“Ah… Well, I didn-… Another officer got him.” He corrects her but she huffs and continues.

“Still! You, Detective Takei, and all the other officers helped and caught the guy. So again, thank you.” Daichi chuckles softly and nods, accepting her gratitude. They sit in silence for a bit and Daichi contemplates what to do with his sudden revelation. Somewhere in his mind, something urges him to take a chance and ask her out. He can almost hear Suga say “Just ask! The worst thing she can do is say no.” His friend is right though and when Daichi takes a breath of courage to finally ask Nozomi out for coffee, she interrupts,

“Hey. Did you finish that book by the way? The one I suggested.” Daichi blinks at her question and hesitates before answering.

“Uh yeah… I also finished the one my friend Suga suggested to me.” He tells her. She beams at him with her sunny grin,

“Good, good! I actually have another book suggestion for you!”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm! How about you give me your number and I can text you the title of it. I can’t remember it on the top of my head. So, when I remember, I’ll text it to you!” Daichi blinks again at her and then smiles when he realizes what she’s trying to do. He lets out a small laugh at this and before the figure skater misunderstands, the officer pulls out his phone and hands it to her. Nozomi fumbles a bit to do the same and they go about putting their digits into each other’s contacts. When Daichi is given his phone back, he almost drops it as he sees she’s put herself down as Nozomi ❤; the little heart winking playfully at him. He wishes he could take his phone back and put himself as something better than just Officer Sawamura but it’s too late.

“I’ll text you the title later.” She tells him with happiness and hope dancing in her eyes. Gathering his bravery from before he responds,

“If you want… You… Could text me about other stuff. Not just about books. Maybe like how your day was or what you were up to.” He offers. Nozomi blinks at him owlishly, the pink in her cheeks growing. She clutches her phone a little tightly and ducks her head to hide a bashful smile but Daichi sees it; the flutter in his chest now blooming into something more.

“Even if it’s something silly like how I got an extra bread roll at the bakery nearby?”

“Anything and everything. I… I want to get to know you.” There was a pause and Daichi thinks that maybe he went too far. But when Nozomi lifts her head and even though cheeks are bright red, she giving his the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen yet.

“I want to get to know you too.”

Taglist: @tsumtsumland @ceo-of-daichi @daichis-kitty @karasimpno

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chickawah23 · 4 years ago

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Lyrical parallels: Daylight vs. Songs on folklore and evermore

I decided to write about the parallels between daylight and folklore and evermore because it honestly feels like Lover was a completely different universe. Taylor states that this year forced her to throw her checklists away. And planning out her life just didn’t seem feasible in such uncertain times. So with Daylight closing Lover we get this picture of light at the end of the tunnel and then the new year comes and the road gets blocked. So we look at how she translated that blockage of light in folklore and evermore. She translated it into a mirage. That what she believed on lover and the anticipation or excitement about her future was actually all a dream. We see this most clearly on august and gold rush (both produced by Jack Antonoff) where she is trapped in a daydream/fantasy about this person that was never hers. We have stark imagery of her as the other woman who believed her person would come back then the hopelessness of the realization that the person might not. “You can call me ‘babe’ for the weekend” harkens back to sugarland’s babe mv of a cheating spouse as well as cardigan and illicit affairs of a relationship relegated to set times and set locations (parking lots and Coney Island benches). The most telling line is “my mind turns your life into folklore/ I can’t dare to dream about you anymore.”

So here are some lyrics that I believe illustrate a connection between Daylight as a closing track and folklore and evermore

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in/Everyone looked worse in the light/There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven/I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

I rewind the tape but all it does is pause/On the very moment all was lost/Sending signals/To be double crossed [evermore]

Whether weather be the frost/Or violence of the dog days/ I’m on waves, out being tossed/ Is there a line that we could just go cross [evermore]

They show their truth one single time/But they lie and they lie and they lie/...a million little times [illicit affairs]

Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now/It's brighter now, now

When I dropped my sword/I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door/And we live in peace/ but if someone comes at us this time I’m ready [long story short]

There is happiness/In our history/Across our great divide/There is a glorious sunrise/Dappled with the flickers of light/From the dress I wore at midnight [happiness]

I've been sleeping so long in a twenty year dark night/And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

But I knew you/ Playing hide-and-seek and/giving me your weekends/ I knew you/ Your heartbeat on the High Line/Once In twenty lifetimes [cardigan]

Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?/Time went on for everybody else/she won’t know it/She’s still 23 inside her fantasy/How it was supposed to be [right where you left me]

My eclipsed sun/This has broken me down/ My twisted knife/My sleepless night [hoax]

And I can still see it all (In my mind)/All of you, all of me (Intertwined)/I once believed love would be (Black and white)/But it's golden (Golden)

And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it/Cause it fades into the gray of my day old tea/ Cause it will never be [gold rush]

But I can see us lost in a memory/August slipped away into a moment in time/ Cause it was never mine/And I can see us/Twisted in bedsheets [august]

In the cracks of light/ I dreamed of you/ It was real enough/ To get me through/ I swear you were there [evermore]

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mexicanbabe1997 · 4 years ago

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Maria the mouse

Name: Maria The Mouse (Full name: Maria Antonella Gomez Raffaelli) Age: 17-19 Gender: Feminine Date of Birth: March 31 Sign (horoscope): Aries Height: Undefined Weight: Unknown Type of blood: +B Hair Color: Ocre Eye Color: Green

*FAVORITES*:

Food: Muffins, chocolate, pizza, and pancakes.

Sport: Swimming

Flower: Gardenia

Music: Rock n’ Roll and Pop (classics from 60’s to 90’s) Color: Blue (mainly the aqua/teal colors), pink, and green.

Hobbies: Singing, drawing, listening to music, eating, resting, reading, writting, exploring new places, swimming, collecting cute stuff, playing video games, brushing her hair, snorkeling, daydreaming, being small, making bead bracelets, skating (she’s an amateur), foiling bad guys, practicing the violin, taking strolls, posing in the mirror, playing dress up, and dancing (she’s taking lessons cuz she’s not that good).

Likes: Music, hot chocolate, books and mangas, pastries, adventures, freedom, tranquility, having friends and family, flowers, animals, Damien, her sister (Dana), shabby chic style, art, perfumes, bubble baths, video games, city lights, comedy-romantic movies, justice, Sonic, Tails, having fun, cute boys, romance, fantasy stories, helping people, bravery, magic (she believes in it), rainy days, brownies, hide and seek (in mouse size), roller coasters, tomboy girls (she admires them), travels, ocean, the beach, aquariums, tours, ballet (when she was little), comfy socks, and cute shiny things.

Subject: Calligraphy, art and music

*LESS FAVORITES*:

Food: Gherkins, soda, and coffee

Sport: American football Music: Reggaeton

Color: Lilac Dislikes: Mean people, backstabbers, blood (she suffers from hemophobia), being confused for a rat, horror-gore movies, injuries, darkness, algebra books (They always make her fall asleep), disrespect, bullies, snobbishness, braggarts, know-it-alls (but she can make some exceptions, like Tails for example), leeches, balls (she always gets hitted in the face), people messing with her friends, Dana acting overbearing, her hair getting ruined, people fearing her for being a mouse, being taken pictures, being called a “weakling”, not having a family, suffering, injustice, Eggman’s evil plans, cheaters, harassment, cowards, stealing, manipulators, being insulted, getting kidnapped, cold weather, storms, animal abuse, feeling left out, not having friends, getting lost, exterminators, mouse traps, bees (she had a bad experience with one), rice pudding, getting pranked, shallowness, letting people down, and when people say that rodents are nothing but “pests”.

Subject: Mathematics and physics.

*PERSONAL INFO*:

Personality: She’s a cheerful although very shy girl, curious, kind-hearted, tender, headstrong, and energetic. Despite being shy with those she doesn’t know well (especially boys), she is honest, feisty, passionate, sweet, caring, respectful, and friendly. She tends to be rather clumsy sometimes and can get innocent to the point of being somewhat clueless, but don’t let that fool you cuz she isn’t stupid. However, she also has a very bad temper and is very impatient and stubborn, she can also get sassy or capricious and sometimes throws tantrums when things don’t go her way. She also has a grudgy side, and can become insensible, harsh, unforgiving, and cold if you hurt her feelings a lot or if she feels betrayed. Despites those flaws, she also has a huge heart, is fun loving, sensible, very femenine and never forgets her manners when saying “thank you”, she enjoys the outdoors and likes the flora and fauna as much as her hair, and knows when to apoligize if she really messed up at something. When facing dangerous situations she can act and be pretty serious, tough, brave, tomboyish, and determinated whenever the situation requires it, and always refuses to give up on a friend in danger. She finds family as the most important thing to her as well as her friends and will go to any lenghts to protect them. She’s also either amorous or a hopeless romantic, gaining many crushes on cute guys who get her attention, though she always ends up getting single at the end, but that dosen’t stop her from believing in love and having a good future.

History: She was the youngest member on her family, having two parents and an older sister named Dana. She lived in a sheltered yet comfortable lifestyle, she was dearly loved and cared by her parents and sister, she had a beautiful house and lots of toys to play with. However, she was far from being social, and rather then playing with other kids she prefered to stay at home and either play with her toys, watching tv, drawing, or reading books. She was a very calm yet withdrawn girl, unable to speak with other people or kids. The other kids always thought that she was a snob for the way she acted and often tried to prevent being around her, others also said that she was odd. Both her parents loved her and she also loved them back, she also liked and admired her older sister so much because she always protected her. One day she was sent along with her older sister to visit her grandmother out of town, at a luxurious villa. Maria was a bit sad for leaving her parents but they promised that it would be only for a week. But then weeks passed and the two sisters didn’t heard anything from their parents. Dana knew something was wrong so she went to investigate but never returned. Maria was depressed for sometime but with some help from her relatives she was finally able to move on and live happily, though deep inside she still felt depressed for not having her parents nor her sister with her.

Powers and abilities: Electrokinesis, good sense of smell and hearing (when concentrated enough), can shrink to the size of a real life mouse and go back in size at will, manipulation and control of machines and electronics, speed, excellent swimmer, good stealth when being small, can climb the walls thanks to static, magnetism and can magnetize any metalic objects, create thunderstorms, Railgun anime-like ability to shoot nuts and bolts like a powerful laser cannon, using her powers she can create weapons out of the metal and minerals of the floor, summoning thunders, create plasma, and can also shrink other people and back to their original size as well.

Weaknesses: Magnets can block her powers and in magnetic fields she is stripped of them. When she suffers from fever her powers are uncontrollable, she becomes overcharged and makes electronics go high wire. Whenever a lightning falls on her, her powers dissapear for at least a week. Since she’s innocent this also gives her a naive streak, as she can get pranked or fooled easily by Phoebe. Since she isn’t an animal of artic weather, this makes her untolerable to cold, and when in extreme freezing temperatures she can get mortally weak or faint due to losing heat. When small she is prone to be highly vulnerable to many things (extreme cold or hot temperatures, hits, falls, or poison), she also has to restrain eating chocolate unless necessary, cuz it grows her back to her normal size which can become troublesome sometimes. Instrument: Violin Romantic Interests: Damien, Blasco, Fido, Sonic and Shadow.

Best Friends: Phoebe, Irving, Damien, Nova, Serah, Dana, Sonic, Tails, Fido, Clarissa, Cat-O, Lisa, The barker gang, Blasco, Thomas, Jake, Chase, Indigo, and the Freedom Fighters.

Enemies: Dr. Eggman, Pearl, Crystal Maria, Dr. M, Fallz, Voidless, Edna, Amadeus, Dimensi, Evan, and other bad guys. Paraphernalia: A photo of her parents (her only clue to find them), a comb, and her cellphone. Hometown : Twilight city (formerly)

Family: Silvana (Mother), Salvatore (Father), Dana (Older sister), Stella (Maternal aunt), Rupert (Maternal uncle), and Maternal Grandmother.

Dream: To find her family.

*INTERESTING FACTS (TRIVIA)*:

* Maria’s voice (English): https://youtu.be/b3DaGbMBgAY

* Her characteristics and personality somewhat reseamble that of a “Majo-Shojo” (Magical Girl). Also many of her features are mainly inspired by some of them, like Serena/Usagi Tsukino from Sailor Moon, Sakura Kinomoto from Sakura Card Captor, Momoko/Blossom (Demashita! Powerpuff girls Z), and Doremi Harukaze from Ojamajo Doremi.

* She’s a very good singer but at first she keeps it to herself due to stage fright. However, she slowly started to get over it and her voice is now recognized by many people.

* Though she likes to be a femenine girl, she also dosen’t mind and is not afraid to do tomboyish stuff either, like climbing trees, playing in the dirt, and doing other kinds of sports (some of which she isn’t very good at, especially when it involves a ball). * She’s extremelly bad at math or anything academical that is related to it. She’s also terrible with computers and dosen’t seem to understand them to that much of an extent then Tails. * She has bad luck with balls, in sports she always get hited in the face, to the point where Phoebe mockingly stated to her that her face was a “Ball magnet”. * Phoebe calls her a “Goofy rat” and Maria in return calls her a “Ruffian princess”. * Her favourite number is 3. * Maria shrinks herself whenever she wants to do things like hidding, eating things in a more bigger perspective, surprising people, helping out, going on adventures and wearing the cute dolls clothes. * When she gets either dizzy or drunk, she has one ear up and the other one is down. * Whenever she goes into a battle, she always takes off her headband to show how serious she is and when it’s over she puts it back. * Maria is a DD bra size. * Her favourite gemstone is the aquamarine. * If her hair gets either cut or burned by someone, Maria goes violent mode and gives a great beatdown to whoever did it. * She is actually very witty when it comes to saving the day, can be sarcastic and is not dumb at all. * She’s allergic to peanuts. * In one of her pockets she always carries around a comb and a compact mirror, while in the other she has the picture of her parents and a cellphone. She also has inner pockets where she stores some coins she finds. * Maria loves animals and can sometimes be found either playing with them or giving them food. She has also went out of her way to rescue them from Eggman. * She uses her own hoodie as a home; she simply takes it off and puts it into place, then she just shrinks and goes in it. She also created her very own bed with some cottons for pillows, a sponge for mattress and a cutted sock for sheet. * Maria and Phoebe’s relationship reminiscence to the one of Serena/Usagi and Rini/Chibiusa from Sailor Moon. * Although Maria is very kind and whatnot, she has several issues when trying to express her feelings openly to the people. She can even be reserved sometimes, including with her close friends, because she feel it is rather complicated to talk to people or she simply dosen’t want to make any squabbles. But the truth is that she dosen’t know how to do it well, since she was not that sociable in her childhood. But she always defends what she believes in, is emotional and is not afraid to spill what she thinks when she feels brave enough or when the situation requires it. * Maria once went to ballet when she was 4 years old, but eventually quited doing it. * She can speak spanish, but just a bit and can say phrases like: “Hola” (Hello), “Amigo, Amiga” (boyfriend or girlfriend) , “Adiós” (Goodbye), “Lo siento” (I’m sorry) and “Gracias” (Thank you). * She always wanted to meet a magical creature. * Maria’s real dream is to have a real home, having someone to love and that loves her back and a family who loves and cares for her in order to have a happy life.

#sonic #sonic fan character #sonic oc #profile #mouse #maria the mouse #character information #fanmade

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insufferable-know-it-all-blog · 5 years ago

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A Ranking of the Gayest American Girl Dolls

When it comes to lesbian subtext in the American Girl series, there's so much to unpack. Today I'll be discussing the 6 girls I deem the gayest.

Honorable Mentions

Felicity

Tomboy and horse girl. Has a companion doll. She hates learning etiquette. The Jiggy Nye redemption arc in her series is better than Snape's redemption arc, in my opinion. You may think she’s gayer than an honorable mention, but I think her traits read as “see this is a good and interesting colonist! She’s not like other girls uwu” as opposed to gayness. I am open to debate on the matter.

Addy

Her stories are much higher stakes than most of the other dolls', so the most time we have for subtext comes in her short stories and in her relationship with her friend Sarah. For example:

An enemies-to-lovers fic where Addy and Harriet are grown up could be veeeery interesting though.

Certified WLW (women-loving women)

6. Molly

Molly's lesbianism is more quantifiable than some of the other dolls. Some contributing factors are:

- bad at math

- lots of internalized self-loathing

- obsessed with her teacher Miss Campbell/daydreams about how pretty she is/snoops into her love life

- her OUTFITS

5. Josefina

Josefina Montoya is a Historical Doll (now called BeForever) from 1824 living in what would later become New Mexico. She's a soft girl with aspirations of becoming a healer. She's scared of goats and has a cool aunt, Tía Dolores.

Much of her stories revolve around adjusting to life after the death of her mother, and her relationship with Tía Dolores.

I don't want to gloss over this: there's a lot of discussion (in the stories and in the historical information at the back of each book) of colonialism and America's treatment of the west and those who live there.

There's also a fair amount of domestic tasks, playing music, and admiring flowers.

tldr; Josefina was the original cottagecore lesbian

4. Julie

If Molly's gayness isn't quite subtext, Julie's is canon. She's so lesbian-coded by way of lesbian stereotypes that I'm surprised a pride flag doesn't come with her accessories.

Julie petitions to join the boys basketball team, becomes an environmental activist, runs for student body president, and attends a Presidential debate. Her mom also has some very gay vibes, being a recently-divorced woman starting a career by opening a resale shop.

Julie lives in 1970s San Francisco and uses her privilege to lift up the voices of others and hold those in power accountable. Julie and her pet rabbit said gay rights.

3. Lindsey

Lindsey is the first Girl of the Year, released in 2001. She was also the first Jewish American Girl Doll. The title of the second chapter of her book is "What a Mess!" A mood. She’s not as well known so I’m going to fill you in a little bit more than with other dolls.

Lindsey is a flaming ball of chaos that ruins everything important to her family (according to herself.) Her story kicks off with her being disgusted to learn that her school is holding a "pet parade," which entails dressing pets up in human clothes and parading them around. She prepares a speech for her class to tell them off, but her teacher shuts her down. Lindsey doesn't take this well. She snatches an iguana and climbs up a tree in protest.

She plays the trumpet in her school band. One day she asks her band teacher if he has a girlfriend and she's very sad to learn he's single. How can he be happy without a woman to take care of him? Projecting much?

Lindsey also befriends a girl who is often bullied in school, cries in the bathroom (a gay ritual), and is told by her uncle, while dancing at her brother's bar mitzvah (post-Matzo ball food fight) that she is not a worm, and despite her chaos, is very loved.

Lindsey knows what she values and will throw food at your face or climb up a tree if you disrespect her. She also craves validation because she feels like a failure due to her unconventional approach to life. A lesbian icon in the making.

2. Kit

Kit spends six books telling you to fuck off with your gender roles, thank you very much. There's a lot of focus on Kit's life as a reporter and what her growing up during the depression will mean for her future expression of identity.

One part of her books that highlights Kit's relationship with gender roles and heteronormativity is when Ruthie reads fairy tales because she likes princesses, but Kit reads Robin Hood because she likes how he steals from the rich to give to the poor and tricks a sheriff. While Kit could become a case of "I'm not like other girls," I think this is avoided by her close friendship with Ruthie. She doesn't necessarily look down on traditional women's roles, she simply has other ambitions.

So yes, this part of her story is important, but what really sells it for me is her longing for adventure and her passion for baseball and Amelia Earhart.

Also? Her bomb outfits.

At one point, Kit gets anxious and hides under her porch. A lesbian oasis.

Kit is a practical and clever young lady with a bright future ahead of her. Keep up the great work, you icon.

1. Samantha

I have read, with my own two eyes, people calling Samantha a homophobe. Please.... I am so tired. Do not underestimate her like that. Let's dive in to the biggest lesbian of the bunch: Samantha Parkington.

Okay so first of all her series begins with her falling out of a tree and sassing her sexist Grandmary. From there, she grows close to Cornelia, her Uncle's girlfriend, who is involved in the fight for women's rights in the city. Samantha is heavily influenced by her and through the books, develops many of the same opinions.

When an Irish girl (Nellie) moves in next door to become a servant to Eddie Ryland's family, Samantha befriends her and teaches her to read. She never speaks down to Nellie or looks at herself as a savior, she just acts on what she thinks is right. The "Looking Back" sections of Samantha's books cover topics like social progress for women, the wealth gap, the treatment of servants, and the disparity in education between classes.

While Samantha follows in Cornelia's path, she also forms her own ideas. For instance: Samantha wins an essay contest with her essay on progress in American factories, and why America is excellent for such progress. When she shows Nellie her winning essay, Nellie tells her that it doesn't represent the truth of factories. Samantha sets out to uncover the truth about child labor that many Proud Americans have kept hidden. She decides she can't read her winning essay, so she changes it and calls out those who condone unfair labor in factories.

Samantha respects every person she comes across and always sees herself as an equal, not a superior. (Except her asshole neighbor, Eddie Ryland. He can choke!) Like Julie, Samantha uses her privilege to bring accountability to oppressors and fight for what's right.

Samantha loves women and won't rest until they all live safe, healthy, and happy lives. She questions the status-quo. She seeks revenge on the men who have made girls' lives hell. And she really loves her Uncle Gard and Aunt Cornelia. And climbing trees.

I imagine Samantha growing up and moving to New York City, hanging out in lesbian-owned speakeasies, and becoming a Mae West stan.

I'd love to hear your thoughts about American Girl subtext on twitter! If you enjoyed this article, please share it with a friend or two! Thank you for supporting an independent writer and American Girl stan.

#american girl #*

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screamxqueenx94 · 5 years ago

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Magic Bullet Part 1./ Teen Wolf Series

A/N: Sorry it took so long to post! Real life has been getting in the way lol! I decided to mix it up and have Stiles' POV in there at some point. This will start happening more so I hope you guys like it!

Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of vomit, cursing, and mild violence

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I woke up and did my usual routine. Shower, brush my teeth, fix my hair the best I could, then got dressed. I put on a black shirt reading "You just made the top of my list" with a camo jacket, black skinny jeans and my old beat up converse. I pack up my backpack with all my homework and books and then I toss it over my shoulder and head out the door. I call back to my dad that I was leaving and that I love him. I get in my car and head to school, and as I pull into a parking space, I see Scott and Stiles heading to my car in a hurry.

"Hey guys! What's up?" I ask as I get out and close my door.

Scott pulls me towards him and Stiles and talks quietly. "Did you hear gunshots last night?" He asks worriedly.

"No. Why what happened?" I ask concerned as we walk towards the school.

"I saw Allison's dad talking to some blonde girl, they were talking about the Alpha. Talking about following 'the smaller one' to get to the Alpha."

"Do you think they meant you?" I ask.

"Maybe…" he continues confused.

"What about the gunshots?"

"That was her. I think she was shooting at the Alpha."

"Well, who's the Alpha?" I ask.

"Not Derek, apparently." Stiles interjects.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

Before either of them can answer, the bell rings. I sigh deeply and we all head off to class. Scott takes a seat, Stiles sits behind him, and I sit next to Scott. I turn towards the boys to say something, then our History teacher has us quiet down and starts handing back our tests from last week. I can feel Stiles' nervous energy. He reaches over and taps Scott's shoulder.

"So if Derek isn't the Alpha and isn't the one who bit you, then who did?" He asks.

"I don't know." He answers.

"Could it be another family member?" I ask.

"Doubt it. Everyone died in the fire." Scott answers.

"Did the Alpha kill the bus driver?" Stiles asks.

"I don't know." Scott replies, starting to get annoyed by the constant questions.

Stiles huffs and sits back. He then leans forward again.

"Does Allison's dad know about the Alph--" Scott cuts him off a little too loudly.

"I don't know!" Making some of the kids in front of the class look back.

I sit there, looking away in embarrassment. The three of us get our tests back. 95%. Hell yeah! I look over at the boys.

"Dude, you need to study more." Stiles comments.

Awkward silence.

"It was a joke… c'mon man it's one test, you'll make it up." He adds.

"Do you need help studying?" I ask, offering my help.

"No, I'm studying with Allison after school." Scott answers.

Stiles gives a look of proud yet surprised. "That's my boy!" He praises.

"We're just studying." Scott insists.

"Uh… no you're not." Stiles states.

"No I'm not?"

"Not if I'm forced to live vicariously through you. If you go to her house today and squander that colossal opportunity, I--I swear I'll have you deb--" I cut Stiles off.

"Okay, we get it, Stilinski." I huff and shake my head.

"Just please stop with the questions." Scott begs.

"Yeah, no more questions." Stiles adds. Thank God…

"No more talk about the Alpha or Derek. Especially Derek… who still scares me." He continues. That makes two of us.

--------------------------------------------------

I start walking through the halls when Allison catches up with me.

"Hey, Charli!" She calls out happily.

I look back and smile at her. "Hey, Allison!" My smile quickly disappears when I see Lydia come up next to her.

"What's up?" Lydia asks, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Why is it that everything she does annoys me?

"Just heading to class." I answer quietly.

"What about you, Allison? Anything going on later?" She asks, giving her a knowing look.

Wh--what do you mean?" Allison asks stuttering.

"You know what I mean..." Lydia winks and I roll my eyes.

"So Scott's coming over tonight?" She continues.

"We're just studying together." Allison insists, not even trying to hide her smile. She's adorable, I love her.

"Just studying never ends with 'just studying'..." Lydia interjects.

"That's not always the case." I insist as I shove my hands in my jacket pockets.

"Sure it does, it's like getting into a hot tub; he'll eventually cop a feel." She explains as she walks up the steps with us following behind.

"So what are you saying?" Allison asks. Don't encourage her…

"I'm just saying… make sure he covers up." Lydia states, making Allison confused.

"She means a condom." I elaborate as I pop a piece of Big Red gum into my mouth.

Allison chuckles. "Are you kidding? After one date?"

"Hello, Snow White! Don't be a total prude. Give him a little taste." Lydia advises. This is exactly why I can't take you seriously, Lydia. Shit like this…

"I mean, how much is a little taste?" Allison asks quietly. Oh God, she's corrupted!

"Oh God, you really like him, don't you?" Lydia asks, almost shocked.

"Well, ugh, he just seems so different. When I moved here, I had a plan. No boyfriends until college, I just move too much. But then I met him and he's different..." Allison tells us, in such a daydream-like voice. Man, she sounds like me thinking about Stiles right now…

"I don't know, I can't explain it." She continues.

"I can. It's your brain flooding with phenylethylamine."Lydia states, making me roll my eyes again.

"Or she's starting to fall in love." I insert.

"Oh, don't be silly, Charlotte…" Bitch… first of all, it's Charli. Second, go fuck yourself. "I'll tell you what to do…" she continues. "When's he coming over?" She asks.

"Right after school." Allison answers.

The bell rings and we start heading up the stairs further. "I gotta get going. Allison, don't do anything you're not comfortable with." I say, then head to the front doors.

I get into my car, take a deep breath to relieve some of the stress from dealing with the bad advice Lydia and Stiles were giving Allison and Scott. I startup my car and start backing out of the parking lot and end up behind Stiles. I honk my horn, making him look back, laughing and gives me the finger. I laugh and give him two right back. Out of nowhere, he suddenly stops, making me stop, almost running into him. He starts honking, I get out and look his way to see what's going on. As I get there, Scott shows up and Stiles is still sitting in the Jeep, confused as can be.

I signal for him to come out, then he does and we see Derek laying in front of Roscoe.

"Oh my God, did you hit him?" I ask, freaking out.

"No! He just walked in front of me out of nowhere then fell down!" He insists.

"What are you doing here?" Scott exclaims as he kneels down next to Derek, who looks like he's on the verge of death.

"I was shot." Derek answers weakly.

"He's not looking so good, dude." Stiles interjects. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

Why aren't you healing?" Scott asks concerned.

Derek looks at me, then Scott looks at me then back to Derek. "It's alright, she's cool." Scott informs Derek.

"I can't, it was a different kind of bullet." Derek answers.

"Whoa, a silver bullet?" Stiles asks, almost amazed. Oh my God…

"No, you idiot!" Derek growls.

"Wait, wait… that must be what she meant by we have 48 hours." Scott concludes.

"What? Wh--who said 48 hours?" Derek asks.

"The one who shot you…" Scott answers wearily.

Derek winces in pain, then his werewolf eyes start to glow blue. Car horns start honking and we all look back.

"What are you doing? Stop that!" Scott exclaims.

"I can't! That's what I'm trying to tell you!" Derek shoots back.

"Derek, get up!" I command as I push Scott out of the way, showing him my glowing purple eyes.

His eyes get wide looking into mine. The other drivers start honking their horns, becoming impatient. Other kids are staring, making me flash my eyes to their normal violet color.

"Stiles, help us put him in your car." I tell him as Scott and I pull Derek up to his feet.

Stiles opens the passenger side door and Scott puts him in the seat and I close the door.

"I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used." Derek tells Scott.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Scott questions.

"She's an Argent, she's with them!"

"Why should I help you?"

"Because you need me."

Scott looks over, making me look over and see Allison approaching. I look back at Scott, who looks back at Derek.

"Fine. I'll try." He answers bitterly.

Stiles gets in the driver seat.

"Get him outta here." I tell him as I walk over to his side.

"I hate you for this so much." He answers through gritted teeth then drives off.

"Hey!" Allison calls and I take that as my que to leave. I hop back into my car and I head home, ready to do some research on what type of bullet could've been used on Derek.

As I'm driving home, trying to figure out what it could be, I can hear Lycanthropy by G.B.H. play at a low volume.

When the wolfsbane blooms,

And the Autumn moon is bright.

He instinctively seeks to kill,

The thing he loves the best.

He'll bare his teeth, growl

Suddenly, I abruptly pull into my driveway and run upstairs to my room and start typing away on my computer. Looking into the possibility of wolfsbane being used in bullets. It feels like hours before I can officially get an answer in the dark web. I do so much digging that my eyes feel like they're burning and my fingers are all cramped. But I then I go on a site called 'Hunters Hideout' where they tell you how to put wolfsbane into bullets for a slow, painful transformation that would lead to a slow, painful death.

I'm shocked by what I read that my only reaction is to just cover my mouth and start tearing up. The worst thoughts go through my head. What if they do this to Scott? What if he goes through this and tries to kill Allison, or Stiles, or his mom… or me? What if I have to kill Derek to save Stiles? What if…

I make my way to the bathroom and throw up. Thinking about all of this had made me sick to my stomach. I clean up and try to call Stiles, who must've shut his phone off. I try again, but the line is busy. Finally, I try Scott, who clearly shut his phone off too. C'mon you idiots! Answer you fucking phones!

I pace through the house, trying to reach both of them, until finally Stiles answers.

"Stiles--" I begin, but then he cuts me off

"Charli, I can't talk right now. I'm trying to keep Derek safe right now." He tells me, talking a mile a minute in his usual Stiles style.

"No wait, Stiles you can--". Line goes dead. I look at my phone and see that the call ended. Did this mother fucked really just hang up on me?

I text Scott:

Scott: Scott, if you or Stiles don't answer your fucking phones, I'm coming to Allison's and I'm going physically pull you out of the house and drag you to mine! 😡

I wait for a reply, when my phone rings and it's Scott, who put Stiles on a three-way call with me.

"Scott, what the hell took you so long?" I huff.

"I'm sorry, I was with Allison!" He exclaims.

"What about you, Stilinski? What's your excuse for hanging up on me?" I sneer.

"I've been trying to figure out what to do with Derek!" He insists.

"Well maybe if you didn't hang up, I could've helped you figure that out!" My voice raises.

"Look right now isn't the time for arguing, okay?" Scott interjects.

"What am I supposed to do with him?" Stiles asks.

"Take him somewhere! Anywhere!" Scott exclaims.

"By the way, he's starting to smell…" Stiles adds.

"Like what?" Scott asks confused.

"Like death!" Stiles voice raises.

"Okay, why don't you take him to the animal clinic?" I suggest.

"Yeah, that's perfect! Deaton would be gone by now and there's a spare key behind the dumpster, Charli will meet you there." Scott elaborates.

"You're not going to believe where he wants me to take you…" Stiles states.

I can then hear Derek's voice on the phone. "Did you find it?" He asks.

"How am I supposed to find one bullet? They have a million bullets! It's like the freaking Walmart of guns!" Scott shoots back, making me chuckle.

"If you don't find it, then I'm dead. Right?" He asks.

"I'm starting to think that maybe not such a bad thing…" Scott snarks.

"Well wait a minute, do we really need the bullet or bullets? What if we just need to know what's in it?" I suggest.

"What are you implying, little girl?" Derek retorts.

"Okay first of all, I could be the one saving your life so you could talk me nicer, and second, while the numbskulls weren't answering their phones, I did some research online about what type of bullet it could be. I'll tell you more at the clinic, in the meantime, Scott, keep looking. I have an idea." I tell them then hang up. I grab my laptop and head out to the Deacon's clinic.

--------------------------------------------------

I arrive to the clinic and Stiles is just opening the door. I run in and yell "it's wolfsbane! Wolfsbane is in the bullet!"

"How the hell do you know this?" Derek asks as he sits on a pile of bags of dog food against the wall.

"I did some research on a part of the internet that I'm not proud to say I was on and I went on this site called 'Hunters Hideout' and they went into detail about what's in the bullet and the kind of death it can cause for a werewolf." I explain.

"Scott has to bring that bullet." Derek tells us.

"Why?" Stiles asks.

"Because if he doesn't, I'll die."

Stiles helps Derek up and I open the doors for them, then I set my laptop on the counter and start looking up what I was just on earlier, figuring out if there was an antidote for it, but couldn't find anything.

"Y'know, it doesn't really look like something some echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of." Stiles says, clearly getting sick from the sight.

I look over and I can see the blood dripping, and I cover my nose and try to look away, but he clearly needs help and Stiles is too squeamish to do so.

"If the infection reaches my heart, it could kill me…" Derek explains weakly as I grab some paper towels and clean up the blood on his arm so I can get a better look at the injury.

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary is it?" Stiles asks. Not a good time for your endearing sarcasm, Stiles.

"If Scott doesn't get here with the bullet on time, last resort…" Derek states, walking away from me and looking through drawers.

"Which is?" I ask.

Derek holds up the surgical saw. "One of you is going to cut off my arm."

Stiles and I stand there in shock, both of our jaws are on the ground. Derek pushes the saw towards Stiles. He picks it up and turns it on.

"Oh my God, what if you bleed to death?" Stiles asks.

"It'll heal if it works." Derek replies as he ties a rubber strand around his arm with his free hand and teeth.

"Couldn't we maybe just extract the bullet and then dispose of it or something?" I ask with a shake in my voice.

"Won't work." Derek huffs weakly.

"Look, I don't know if I can do this…" Stiles admits, looking like he wants to puke.

"Why not?" Asks Derek as he finishes tying the rubber strand off.

"Well, the cutting of the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially of the blood!" Stiles tells him as his voice cracks when he says blood.

"You faint at the sight of blood?" Derek judges.

"No, but I might faint at the sight of a chopped off arm!" Stiles corrects as he motions to Derek's arm.

I stand in front of my open laptop, still covering my mouth and nose, trying to focus on anything besides their conversation. I turn around and face them with my face still covered.

Derek sighs, and shakes his head then looks at me. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to do this?" He asks. I hope he doesn't say anything…

"She's worse than me!" Stiles defends.

"Okay, well how about this; either one of you cowards cuts off my arm, or I cut off your heads." Derek threatens.

"Okay, I'm so not buying your threats--" Stiles gets cut off by Derek grabbing his shirt and pulling him over the examination table.

As a reflex I jump over and tackle Derek to the ground. I have my right hand pinning him down by the chest and the left up, prepared to punch. My eyes glowing, my fangs about to retract when I can feel Stiles' hands grabbing me by my shoulders and pulling me away.

"Hey, hey, hey! C'mon, I know you wanna kill him, but he's right. Scott needs him." He reminds me.

He keeps trying to look me in the eyes, but I won't look at him in his until I know mine are no longer glowing. He helps Derek back up and brings him back to the table. Derek leans over, barely able to breathe on his own while Stiles goes digging in his pockets.

"We'll flip for it if I can find a quarter." He tells me as he continues digging.

All of a sudden, Derek starts gagging and we both look at him. He throws up what look like black tar all over the floor.

"Oh my God! What the hell is that?" Stiles exclaims in pure disgust.

"It's my body… trying to heal itself…" Derek says while taking a pause to make sure he's finished.

"Well it's not doing a very good job of it!" Stiles shoots back.

"Alright!" I yell, making both boys look at me. "I'll do it!" I declare.

I pick up the saw and start it up. "Stiles, I need you hold his arm down." I instruct.

"Charli, I--I can--" I cut Stiles off.

"Dammit, Stiles! It's for Scott!" I yell.

He hurries and holds down Derek's arm. I get close with the saw and I'm about to make contact when I hear Scott's voice. "Stiles? Charli?"

"Scott?" Stiles and I simultaneously call back.

He comes in and sees us in, what looks like trying to mutilate Derek's body.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" He interrogates.

I turn off the saw and put it down and back away from the table, while Stiles let's go of Derek and sighs in relief.

"You just prevented a lifetime of nightmares." Stiles relieves.

"Do you have it?" Derek asks weakly.

Scott digs into his pockets and pulls out a bullet, then hands it to Derek. Derek takes it and examines it. His steel blue eyes staring it down.

"What are you gonna do with it?" I ask him.

"I'm gonna… I'm gonna--" he suddenly faints and drops the bullet.

Scott and Stiles slide for the bullet while I jump over them and catch Derek's head before it can hit the ground. I'm not sure why I saved him when moments ago I wanted to kill him for threatening Stiles, but here I am. Supporting his head while Stiles and Scott try to get the bullet out of the floor drain.

"C'mon Derek, wake up!" I cry out as I pat his face.

"Oh God, I think he's dead!" Stiles announces as he comes over and checks on Derek.

"Scott, c'mon!" I holler.

"I'm trying!" He shouts back.

I pat Derek's face again one more time. "C'mon you son of a bitch! Don't you die on us! We made it this fucking far!" I yell at Derek's unmoving body.

Finally, Scott comes over to us with the bullet in-between his claws cheering, "I got it!"

I lay Derek down gently, then I get in front of him. "I've been wanting to do this all day…" I quietly say to him.

I make a fist, whined it all the way back, and give Derek a strong left hook, waking him up. When he wakes up, Scott hands him the bullet and Stiles and I help Derek up. He supports himself on the metal table and pulls the top off with his teeth and empties it out on the table. He pulls a lighter out of his pocket and burns it. He scoops the remains into his hand and presses them into the disgusting wound on his left arm. He screams from the pain then falls to the floor, continuing to be in pain. The three of us back up and watch in shock as the wound starts to heal itself.

"That. Was. Awesome! Yes!" Stiles comments, making Scott and I look at him.

Derek finally gets up. "Are you okay?" Scott asks.

"Except for the agonizing pain?" Derek retorts.

"Guessing the use of sarcasm is a sign of good health." Stiles comments.

Derek gives Stiles a death glare, then starts taking the rubber strand off.

"Okay, we saved your life, which means you're gonna leave us alone. You got that? An--and if you don't, I'm going back to Allison's dad and I'm going to tell him everything a--" Derek cuts Scott off.

"You're gonna trust them? You think they can help you?"

"Well why not? They're a lot fucking nicer than you are!" Scott argues back.

"Yeah, I can show you how nice they are…" Derek scoffs.

"What do you mean?" Scott asks...

-------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @softpeteparker @mummybear @ficus-fig @music-magic-mayhem @zenawa @stiles-o-dylan24 @cry-btch @maaariiiooo13 @sporadiccookiebagel @bewarethebees @inschi @wil2space @bansheeintuition @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @nicole-lynne @fullangelimagines @lettersofwrittencollective @kingofmyimagination

#stiles x oc #teen wolf #series rewrite #dylan obrien #stiles stilinski #fanfic #hope you like it

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stevie-writes-the-pain-away · 5 years ago

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Alcoholics Anonymous - Chapter One

There are 34,000 species of fish in the world and only four hundred of them are sharks. You're more likely to be killed by a dog than from a shark but I find this complicated to think about, seeing how bad of a reputation great whites have. For the longest time, I struggled as an aquaphobe and I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why keeping away from water was better in my head than getting out there and gaining back my long lost courage. I couldn’t even swim with friends in a kiddy pool without convincing myself it wasn’t safe and I was better off ten metres away. But I guess I got myself into enough danger away from water already. Like walking into traffic.

I felt a rough yank on my arm, pulling me back from the street in what I can only now remember as a blur. I replaced my smudged vision with a clear, blank stare into the oncoming traffic and my heart leapt into my throat as an obnoxious car horn hollered down the street past the corner of the sidewalk. With my hair now in a mess and one of my shaky hands fiddling with my clothes to sort myself out, I turned my head to my left hand, watching tight squeezing fingers wrap around my wrist. I bent and rose my arm so my hand nearly met my face and traced whoever held me to a man standing too close for comfort.

"You alright, lass?" he asked. His voice rang through my head clearly, blocking any other noise out and his raspy, low accented tone was filled with concern. My eyes lifted from his chest to his face where my sudden shock must've been fooling my eyes. It was as if the man had some sort of green shade blended in with his skin and perhaps even one of his eyes was glowing a soft red, almost pink sort of colour. I just stared at his facial features, unsure of how to answer his question. I took notice to his greasy black hair, unnatural skin which must've not been shaved that morning and foreign scent I'd never experienced before. In a strange way, everything about this man seemed to pull me in and I found myself stuck in a trance as he stared back at me, waiting for an answer. Time stood still and eventually, my eyes wandered to the people who stood around us, staring at me with confusion or frustrated disturbance and annoyance. I looked back at the man in front of me as he watched me with now irritated, furrow-browed eyes.

As soon as I parted my lips to speak he let go, leaving an empty space between us which, in some dramatic way, made me feel lost. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and held it to his ears, already arguing with somebody on the other side. Just like that, I blinked once more, only to find him gone. In fact, nearly the whole crowd of people by the curb was gone already halfway across the street. Realizing I was supposed to join them, I sped after them, ignoring my embarrassment. I would've rather paid attention to where that man went, I couldn't let him get away without thanking him for saving my life. After attempting to look through the busy crowd in front of me I felt guilty losing hope. There was no way I could find him in this mess, even if that man was someone who stood out so well if you were playing a game of hide and seek like I was. Accepting my failure I sighed and backed up, remembering my plans for the day. I couldn't take the day off and search London for him, could I? I cursed to myself in frustration, quickly escaping the crowd around me and leaving down the other street where the community health clinic was.

After the fifteen-minute walk I had left, I arrived at my destination, opening the wide glass doors and entering the building. As always, I waved to the lady at the front desk and carried on down the hallway to my left. I headed towards the usual room I arrived at every Tuesday afternoon, pushing the door open and coming face to face with the same familiar and comfortable people. I smiled warmly, looking at the chairs all set in a circle and a few of the typical attendees of the program chatting quietly. They glanced my way before smiling at me then continuing their conversations. I counted four of them in the room so far not including myself or counsellor Phoebe. She stood in the other room holding her clipboard as she, I can only assume, marked off my absence. I sat down in my own little bubble, pulling out my phone to wait for the session to begin.

I was never one to talk to others in the program. I just sat and listened to their stories and only ever spoke when addressed. Aside from greeting others, saying hello and goodbye, I was probably one of the least talkative people in group therapy. That also meant I'd never opened up about myself as much as the others; some of them barely even remembered my name. I laughed it off to myself, scrolling through the pictures on my phone to entertain myself. As minutes passed, more adults entered the room and I put my phone away, crossing and rubbing my arms as Phoebe walked across the room to close the door. Altogether there were nine of us and honestly, we were all a family in a way. It had just been us the majority of the time, and for months now. We'd watched people come and go, we'd seen people on cloud nine then crash back down and I'd listened to some of the heaviest, heart-wrenching stories I'd ever heard. I guess that was the point of Alcoholics Anonymous, however, in a twisted way. Perhaps the more stories you hear the stronger the determination to not risk drinking yourself to death will eventually become. If you're not already suicidal, that is.

Phoebe straightened her skirt and sat down, fiddling with the edge of her jacket. She placed her clipboard on the ground and clapped her hands together. "We were supposed to get somebody knew today, but it looks like they may not be coming," she said to herself, her face twisting into slight disappointment. I always enjoyed Phoebe's voice and how she spoke, as well as her overall presence. She always found a way to turn something around and make it feel good, or at least, less of a burden on somebody's shoulders. It sounded cliché, but she was such a beautiful person both inside and out. She was gentle, even in aggressive situations. She didn't need to yell in order to get your attention. After all she had done for her clients, she gained enough respect to have you turn your head towards her and stop everything and anything you were doing when she simply cleared her throat. She had curly blonde hair that just passed her shoulders and bounced above her chest when she walked. Her face was unreal, a living Barbie doll right in front of me whenever I watched her; a natural pale beauty. She had lovely blue eyes that seemed to glow, just like her smile. Even when she didn't look very happy, which was rare, she had a nice shine to her. Everybody listened carefully when she took a breath in to speak. "Well, good morning, anyway," she began. "As I know you're all aware, this program is about thinking of how we can cope, as well as crafting ideas to express ourselves. But I think it's always a good idea to encourage people to speak and release anything inside that they would like to talk about first. Why don't we go around the circle and ask each other how our weekends were?"

Group therapy most definitely seemed more like a GSA meeting at a middle school with the school's guidance counsellors. To some people, the way Phoebe handled the program didn't feel mature enough for adults who were meant to be thirty to 59, but it surprisingly worked for all of us. Probably because not a lot of us were in our fifties or forties yet. For me personally, it made me feel better to be treated as I would be in high school, but that was just me and for my own reasons.

I turned towards one of the women as she began to speak, only to be interrupted by the door being swung open with what felt to be no hesitance whatsoever. On the other side of the door was a man, maybe 5'7, dressed in all black. His hand still gripped the handle of the door and he paused, his eyes dancing around the room as if he was awaiting some sort of invitation to enter, even if he had already opened the door.

"Are you the new attendee for this program?" Phoebe asked, pulling her clipboard back into her lap with enthusiasm.

"I should hope so, bad first impressions are hard to recover from," the man answered in his low gravely voice. He furrowed his eyebrows at her like he was waiting for her to help solve his confusion.

She stuttered a little, looking through her list. "A-are you Murdoc?"

"That'd be me," he smirked and nodded, walking forward and shutting the door behind him. His Cuban heels tapped the floor loudly and he sat in one of the chairs, pulling his leather jacket off and carelessly placing it behind him.

"Well, lucky for you, we only just started. Perhaps while we talk about our weekends, we can introduce ourselves to you," Phoebe offered, gesturing everybody to turn back to the woman previously talking. As she started over, I found myself looking back at Murdoc. Something about him fascinated me; like maybe I knew him, or we had crossed paths on the sidewalk and his face was still buried in the back of my mind somewhere, waiting to be dug up. I finally lost myself in a daydream, not realizing I was staring. His dark eyes, along with the rest of his bored expression skimmed across the room, absorbing his surroundings. Soon enough his eyes swept over mine and I immediately choked on my breath. His face said it all; green skin, raven black hair, one red eye and sharp jawline in need of a shave. He turned his attention back to whoever was talking but his eyes widened, quickly looking back in my direction. As soon as our eyes met, they were locked, and we each melted into our seats awkwardly. Murdoc hid his discomfort well, but I felt I had the right to say I knew when others felt secretly under attack. He might have looked unhappy to be there, but I couldn't have been more happy and relieved to find him. Right in front of me, I found the man who had saved my life.

My green knight in shining armour.

#gorillaz #alcoholics anonymous #murdoc niccals #murdoc x reader #x reader #noodle #russel hobbs #2d pot #2d

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lenaisanerd · 6 years ago

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swing a little further

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It's really hot. The gang goes to the park. It rains. (Alternatively: Izzy stares at Clary for 3400 words.)

This was supposed to be shorter, but it turned into something that is not that short while I wrote it. This is my first published fanfic on Tumblr (exciting). Please reblog or like if you enjoy it!

A huge thank you to my friends and editors @disaster-lesbiab , @raisehades , and @beesarekind , who made this fic possible (and who have been very patiently listening to me ramble on about Shadowhunters for months. Thanks.).

One week since the Institute’s AC system had given out. Turns out not even angelic power can withstand a New York heatwave, and with temperatures outside steadily climbing over 30 degrees, the heat had started seeping through every crack and crevice into the normally cool building. The humidity exacerbated the effects of the hot weather, and in Isabelle’s opinion it was a miracle no one had collapsed from a heat stroke yet.

According to the weather report a massive thunderstorm was due any day now, but what did mundanes know. It certainly hadn’t rained any of the previous four days when they had promised the exact same thing. Izzy’s hope and patience were wearing thin.

There were precisely three things that gave her the strength to drag herself out of bed every morning: One, by now being in her room with its huge portion of stained glass window was even more unbearable than hiding from the sun in the armory. Izzy had even tried sitting in the dungeons to do her paperwork, because being underground should be at least marginally cooler. But apparently sitting on the floor leaning against a wall while looking at a tablet in your lap for 10 hours at a time can really fuck up your back.

Two, the Institute was caught up in approximately one fuckton of work. NYC had picked the worst three weeks of the past year for a demon infestation in the Hudson. Getting rid of the little bastards, clean-up of the river, and convincing mundane victims and the police it was just a really violent species of manatee had kept every available Shadowhunter (and quite a few warlocks) busy. And when your brother is Head of the Institute, and also not afraid to barge into your room to kick you out of bed, sleeping late is not an option, even if Izzy was tempted a few times to quit sentient existence and melt into her mattress.

Three, even though the heatwave left everyone sweaty, tired, and often sunburnt, Clary was a literal angel all the same. Isabelle had started mentally drawing constellations between the hundreds of freckles that had popped up on Clary’s face and shoulders because of her time spent in the sun on missions.

She had given up on all black clothing about two days into the heatwave and was now wearing a different, slightly ratty and paint-splattered t-shirt every day, which, Izzy had to admit, suited Clary even better than black leather or skin-tight party dresses. And although a sunburn was starting to colour her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, Izzy could still see Clary’s adorable blush whenever she complimented Isabelle. Seeing the redhead’s brilliant smile every morning as soon as she spotted Izzy in the op center or training room was truly the only thing that made the heat bearable.

“...and Luke said he’s going to take care of the press stuff, he knows a guy at the Times. We’re still going with the murderous manatee story, right? Izzy? Did you hear me?”

Clary’s question ripped Izzy out of her dazed daydream, where she had been busy appreciating a single frizzy strand of hair that had found its way out of the ponytail Clary had pulled her red curls into.

Izzy quickly took a sip of her water bottle on the table in front of her to stall while searching for an answer in the depths of her mind. She should really pick better moments to drool over Clary than in the middle of being briefed by Clary. Then again, she was. really. tired. 10 hours of work, fixing weapons, debriefing teams back from missions, chasing after reports from junior Hunters. It was high time for a break.

“Yes, of course, the manatee thing. Let’s do that.”

Clary shook her head. “I still can’t believe the shit Shadowhunters get Mundanes to believe. You would think after a while someone would pick up on the weirdness.”

“You didn’t.”

“Touché, Lightwood.”

Isabelle grinned, Clary smiled back. Maybe a little longer than was justified, given Izzy’s weak attempt at banter. Not that Izzy minded.

A distant, sustained honk cut through the silence between them. At the same moment both their phones buzzed. Clary was the first to get hers out. She checked the message and frowned.

“A text from Simon: ‘Come outside’?”

Izzy raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Hey Iz. You get a text too?”

Alec was coming down the stairs and striding quickly towards her on long legs. He looked worn out, dark circles under his hazel eyes. Izzy was fairly certain that he had not left the Institute in at least two days.

She nodded and held up her phone.

“Any idea what it means?” she asked.

“Nope. Better go obey his command though, or someone else will go and strangle him to get him to stop honking.”

Now the connection between the sound and the message clicked into place in Izzy’s mind. The honking had started up again, a long honk followed by several short, irregular bursts. It must have been coming from just outside the doors of the Institute. Walking towards the exit it grew louder. Clary pushed open the door.

Across the way from the steps a painted van was parked under a tall plane tree, its owner stood in the open driver side door to play out a rhythm on the horn. Simon waved when he saw them.

Maia was sitting on the roof, leaning back while her legs dangled over the side. Leaning against the hood of the car, Magnus had taken off his vest to sling it over his shoulder, looking for all the world like a supermodel with his sunglasses, rolled up trouser cuffs and a shirt that was unbuttoned almost down to his bellybutton.

Izzy heard her brother draw in a sharp breath, before he rushed down the steps to greet his boyfriend with a kiss. Clary and Izzy followed more slowly.

“What are you guys doing here?” Clary said as she hugged Simon in greeting. “I thought you wanted to get out of the city, go to the beach?”

Izzy tugged playfully at Maia’s ankle and squinted up at her. The sunlight streaming through the foliage made her coiled hair shine like a ring of gold.

Maia grinned and sighed. “We had planned that, yes. But Thor over here is convinced he can predict the weather--”

“Hey, all I’m saying is that my hair is standing on end today, which normally happens when a storm is incoming, and a thunderstorm is not the ideal condition for swimming--”

“The weather report has been talking about rain for like a week now, it still hasn’t happened. You’re just afraid of the ocean!”

Simon gasped in outrage, though Izzy could see his eyes twinkle slightly.

“I am not! And how dare you suggest I cannot predict the weather. I’ll have you know that my predictions saved Clary and me from getting drenched during the Great Sports Day Downpour of 2014.”

“Simon, I’m pretty sure you just didn’t want to do the three-legged race with me.” Clary was chuckling. “And I remember that we got wet anyways when you tripped and we fell into that huge puddle.”

“No, I remember that you tripped and I only fell in because our legs were still tied together!”

They all burst into a fit of giggles at the mental image. Even Magnus and Alec looked over grinning from where they were still leaning against the hood of the van, a casual embrace tangling their arms and legs with as much body contact as the heat would allow.

Izzy tried to remember the last time the two of them had seen each other. Had it been a week? Two? Magnus must have been kept busy as well. Now it seemed like they had been standing like this for hours, their bodies slotting together with comfortable familiarity. Isabelle let her eyes wander over to Clary next to her. Was it stupid to hope their limbs would fit together in the same way?

“But even if we could go to the beach, which we absolutely can’t, because of the storm, what would we do without our favourite demon-hunting buddies?” Simon added, and then, stage whispering while leaning close to Izzy, “we were starting to think you guys had fused with your desks, or that you had moved to Canada without telling us.”

“Seriously, you had us worried. When did you last have a day off, or at least take a break?” Maia asked.

Izzy’s shoulders slumped. “Don’t ask, I don’t think I could tell you.”

“Well then, it’s good that we’re here to enforce some mandatory downtime,” Simon said while rummaging around in the back of the van. He finally emerged holding two plastic bags and a canvas tote.

“Maia and I picked up the essentials of relaxation on the drive here. Books,” he turned the canvas bag around so they could see the New York Public Library logo on the front ,“and candy. It’s all Fourth of July themed though. There was a sale,” he added apologetically, as if he wasn’t holding the most beautiful things Izzy had seen in days.

“We appreciate the gesture, but there’s still so much to do, all the paperwork for the cleanup,” Alec chimed in, but Izzy knew him well enough to recognize his opposition as rather half-hearted.

She met Clary’s eyes and they both put on their best pleading face. Simon and Maia had witnessed these battles of will a few times before, so they reserved themselves to keeping quiet and glancing between Alec and his opponents.

Alec tried to seek support with Magnus and looked at him instead. Like Magnus was gonna tell his overworked boyfriend to go back inside for second helpings, Izzy thought, especially when he was right here ready to distract Alec. Her brother must have been kidding himself.

After about five seconds, she could see his resolve crumble like a dry sand wall.

“Okay, you know what, you’re right. Fuck this, let’s get out of here. Hey Underhill,” he called to the Shadowhunter standing just inside the entryway of the Institute, who made his way slightly reluctantly out of the shade and over to the van, “you’re in charge until I get back. Tell everyone to finish what absolutely needs doing today, and then to take the rest of the day off.”

Underhill gave a short nod and smiled. His eyes lingered on Magnus and Alec for a split second, still standing with their arms around each other, before he turned to leave.

They left the van parked in front of the Institute and set off on foot. After a half hour of strolling at a leisurely pace they reached Rockefeller Park and settled under a tree in view of the river. The afternoon sun shone brightly and with an intense glare, and only a few people were sitting on the grass, some under umbrellas to provide shade.

Most inhabitants of the city seemed to have traded the sultry climate outside for air-conditioned offices, apartments, or movie theaters. Even in the middle of Manhattan the world moved slowly and quietly. The traffic and buzz of downtown were miles away, a vague hum in the distance. Time was sticky and thick like honey.

Izzy looked up from her copy of Lavinia. She was feeling sleepy and content, her stomach full of sweets, her sneakers lying next to her with her feet naked on the grass. She took in the scene in front of her:

Magnus was sitting against the tree trunk to her left, her brother’s head in his lap. The warlock had one hand in Alec’s hair, the other held Eros the Bittersweet from which he was reading in a soft voice. Occasionally Alec would open his mouth to make an observation or a joke, and Magnus would look down at him and laugh.

A few meters away Maia had abandoned her reading to try and catch the Skittles Clary was throwing into Maia’s mouth. Simon had also put his copy of Kavalier and Clay aside to watch and to distract both of them by plucking out single blades of grass and pitching them at them with pinpoint accuracy like tiny spears.

Finally Maia had enough and sprang like a fox on the hunt to tackle her boyfriend. After rolling over on the ground once or twice, Maia ended up on top, straddling Simon’s chest and pinning him down. She proceeded to rip out a handful of grass and sprinkle it on Simon, while he laughed and sputtered, trying to blow the grass away from his face.

Clary watched from her Skittle throwing spot, The Wicked + The Divine open on one of her crossed legs. Leaf-filtered sunlight dappled her skin, a smile crinkled the corners of her eyes.

Izzy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through her nose. The air carried the smells of sunscreen, dry grass, and the river. She had the sudden thought how strange and lucky it was that she was here, lying under a tree with her favourite people in the whole world, how somehow they had all made here. Sometimes it seemed like the world was about to end every other week, and they couldn’t go two months without at least one of them almost dying. But it wasn’t, and they hadn’t.

“Izzy, everything okay?” Clary had sat down next to her. There were faint grass-stains on her grey jeans.

“You know, before I met you, Alec, Jace and I didn’t do this sort of thing.”

Izzy gestured to their surroundings.

“Sitting in some park, during the day, just doing nothing. Sure, we had free time sometimes. Mostly after missions, late at night, when we were so keyed up we just couldn’t go home to bed. We’d get some food, or go to a party, or walk through the city for hours just exploring until the sun went up.“

“And we had fun. But it was always just a distraction, something to kill time, until the next mission or training session, until we had to go back to the Institute or our parents would get mad. The stuff we do with you or Simon or Maia is…” she smiled, “nice. Different. But nice. Is this what being mundane is like? Nothing to do, nowhere to be but here?”

Clary had been watching Izzy’s face attentively, but now she was looking out at the park, the people walking by or lying on the grass.

“Simon and I used to do this stuff all the time. Sometimes I used to think we were just wasting time, but we really had some of our best weekends when we were just off doing nothing. I just didn’t know it at the time.”

“Do you miss, you know. Your old life? Being mundane?”

Clary was quiet for a moment.

“I do, yeah. Even now. I’ll be walking down some street in my old neighbourhood, and it just hits me, the memories. I miss it so much sometimes it physically hurts. And I think about the girl I was a year ago, and she seems like a stranger. A totally different person.”

“But,” she said and her eyes met Izzy’s, “I also think about all the things I’ve seen, everything I’ve learnt. The people I’ve met.” She smiled. “If I was still living my old life, I never would have met you.”

“That, Clary Fairchild, would have been a tragedy.” Izzy grinned.

“Exactly.”

A loud rumbling sounded in the mid-distance. Izzy just managed to tear herself away from Clary’s gaze to look at the horizon. Dark clouds were gathering and moving quickly towards the city, blown by high-altitude winds, although the air on the ground remained hot and still. The air was heavy with static and the humidity clung to her skin. The surface of the Hudson rippled with a few tiny raindrops.

“Ha! What did I tell you?” Simon’s grin was triumphant and infectious. He turned to Maia. “And you doubted me.”

Maia obviously wasn’t ready to give in. “This is nothing. I’m sure it’ll pass and we’ll be fine under the tr--”

The rain came down hard. They had just enough time to pack up their things and put on their shoes before the leafy canopy above them gave in to unload large drops on their heads. It became clear in minutes that staying under the tree wasn’t going to provide much cover.

Simon was the first to dash out into the pouring rain, speeding faster than Izzy’s eyes could follow. When he stopped to wait for the others however the rain caught up with him. He yelped and tried to use his jacket as a makeshift umbrella, which was pointless as any and all clothing was soaked through in seconds.

Maia followed, and immediately after her Magnus and Alec, who were jogging leisurely across the lawn under a small shield Magnus maintained with one hand held over their heads. The faint blue glow was almost invisible, but the rivers of rainwater running off it were not, and Izzy hoped quietly that the few mundanes who remained in the park were too busy getting drenched to notice.

“Our turn.”

Izzy’s attention snapped back to Clary. She had stepped out from under the meager protection of the tree canopy into the rain and was tilting her head back to let the raindrops hit her face. Then she turned back to look at Izzy, smiling, red hair darkened by the rain, a few wet strands clinging to her face.

Clary reached out and took Izzy’s hand. There was a sensation, like a spark of static, but somehow more than physical. Izzy was almost ready to chalk it up to the thunderstorm, all the electricity in the air, or her imagination, when she looked up at Clary.

Her green eyes were wide and tiny rain droplets caught on her lashes. She had felt it too. For a moment they both stood motionless, breaths held, hands clasped.

Then the moment passed, and Clary whipped around to drag Izzy into the rain and towards their friends. Hand in hand they ran across the flooded lawn, water splashing up around their ankles with every step. A flash of lightning followed closely by booming thunder accompanied them.

The others stood under Magnus’ shield, which was now several meters in diameter. Alec was grinning at Izzy when she skidded to a stop next to him. His eyes wandered down to her hand in Clary’s.

“Took you two slowpokes long enough to get here.”

Izzy raised one perfect eyebrow and smiled mockingly.

“Sounds like a challenge. Race you to the Institute?”

Alec’s eyes narrowed, obviously incentivized. He shot Magnus a quick glance. The warlock smiled.

“Oh, go on Alexander, I couldn’t deprive you. Besides,” his eyes flashed golden for a split second, “I’m sure I can keep up.”

In the blink of an eye, Alec had given Magnus a kiss on the cheek and had dashed off. Izzy rolled her eyes and followed. As if he could shake her with tricks like that.

Among shrieks, shouts and laughter the group ran through the pouring rain. By the time they reached the Institute they were all out of breath and soaked to the bone.

By some sort of miracle (and through the magic of plastic bags) the books had managed to stay dry, and Simon stashed them safely in the van before he and Maia made their goodbyes and disappeared in the vehicle as well in search of towels.

Magnus, having had quite enough of being wet, opened a portal to his apartment. He practically had to drag Alec, who was still arguing with his little sister about who had really won the race, through. Izzy and Clary were left alone on the steps of the Institute.

The storm had cooled off the air noticeably, and the weird pressure had lifted. Everything felt suddenly lighter, the constant noise of the rain and the thunder drowning out the hum of the city until Izzy barely noticed it.

Standing in the warm rain, drops hitting her shoulders and face until rivulets formed on her skin, the world faded out until only Clary remained, her eyes, her laughter, her hand holding tight. Izzy tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. She smiled.

#shadowhunters #clizzy #shadowhunters fic #sh fic #isabelle lightwood #my writing #sh writing #clary x izzy #fanfuckery

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fmdrem · 6 years ago

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date: january 21st, 2019 location: seoul, south korea / various ( mars’ dorms ; dimensions’ meeting areas ) summary: the rebellion of jeon ahreum warning: clear depiction of ahreum’s paranoia & mental turmoil + evident mentions of mistreatment. this is dimensions, after all. word count: 1480 words.

in, out. in. out.

he needed to remember how to breathe and yet the more he’d think at where they had to go and how the time was running out, the more he’d think that throwing himself off the window in a rem-shaped hole, changing name in jean-jaques and escaping somewhere in europe ━switzerland, sounded much safer, must be the banks ; definitely the banks, those looked as safe and sound as his grandma’s bedroom during christmas, where she’d hide all the cute gifts she’d make him and he’d always try to snoop in unsuccessfully━, dragging dearest and most beloved junsu along in his elope so that they’d be never to be found again, free to be themselves after so much pain and grief given by an ungrateful industry, free to finally do the music they wanted... but that was but an utopia built on mind clouds, a mere daydream done towards the crusty white ceiling of his dormroom as he’d hear the voice of the manager at the other side of the door already easing the others out while he was still there, half dressed, a whole distressed, still pondering the window and the fugue even if that meant ditching responsibilities that felt more like weights pressing him down further into the hellhole he was already drowning him.

his lungs felt like completely missing, carved away in a surgery he didn’t even remember having in the course of the night ━breathing blood with its coppery stench lingering against dry windpipe and emptied stomach devouring itself, bitten lip to the point of it being so swollen one more bite would bring rupture, a usb pen held so close within nimble fingers he could feel the hard plastic going warm and drawing its shape against the calloused and dance-worn flesh. he knew it was going to be useless ━insisting in taking that little thing with him even when he knew it was going to be useless ; they weren’t going to let him. they’d never give back the music and the freedoms he once had, the leash in his creativity remaining tight and ruthless in holding him down. the voices would wane away and the ones in his head would get louder and he wanted to just rip his ears off and scream that he knew, he knew, he just wanted to delude himself to feel a little better and he knew ━he was being selfish, he deserved the constant rejection, he knew, he was oh so sorry.

fist knocked at the door once, twice, and the sound echoed against his ears and drove him crazy.

“ you’ve been silent all day. besides being so terribly late once more. we should install an alarm clock right under your ear. ” the manager was giving him one of their signature suspicious looks and he could feel himself sinking into the front seat of the car ━the others had already left and entered while he was stuck there, probably by now they’ve noticed both their absence but he knew there had to be a reason for why the other had told him to stay a second. probably to scold him, or something like that ━it wouldn’t be surprising, after all. he always seemed to give the other one hell of a time, perhaps even making them regret being the group’s manager with all his antics and the way he seemed to have plummeted in the last three years., the fainting and crying for no reason and the curling at the back of the car when he usually used to always take the front seat just like now.

and he could feel himself already slurring out apologies after apologies when he felt one hand onto his shoulder and his thin voice reaching a too easy halt ━tired eyes looking up at them and concert in a pair of eyes looking his. “ you know, you’re a terrible liar, ahreum-ah. ” wow,big news,he knew that already ━back flinching, eyes in a quick squint in a moment. he knew, he knew. “ i know. ” the shoulders went down, a sigh along and he found himself seeking solace on the car roof while realizing it just wasn’t like staring at his room’s ceiling in wait for the cosmic void to manifest.

but it would never manifest. it never had. it never will ━and yet again he kept deluding himself. truly foolish.

“ it’s just... that i hate these meetings. i hate having to stand there just to give an excuse to the executives that they do talk tot he artists when comebacks are made ━i have music i want to release, but━━ ” “ you have done music? ” “ ah━━yeah, i’ve done a lot, but... i was forced to shut down my soundcloud and retire any track i had created when i joined as a trainee, which was.. an hard blow, you know. ” the other nodded, which was more or less reassuring. “ ever since then i’ve not been allowed to create music for mars, and i have━━so many ideas. so many, but━━ ”

“ but you’re afraid again of being rejected. ”

god, he hated being so easy to read. why couldn’t he be a complete mystery like hansol or seyeon or essentially any other idol that wasn’t himself? “ yeah. pretty much of a shitty predicament. it’s not the first time i tried, ━━trust me, i did. ” one hand moved, running through the messy black locks and he felt their hand giving him a sight pat before humming at the time display on the car’s dashbard, free fingers drumming onto the wheel. it’s not that they weren’t aware of how dimensions treated their artist regardless of alleged preferences ━demeaning whoever wanted to express themselves or break the mold, pushing the boundaries and limits of those poor boys and girls, turning their dreams into nightmares and their love for music into hatred. he knew they knew. it was all a vicious, sad cycle. “ i saw you bringing that usb pen again, are you going to ask again? ”

he wished for the seat to just turn into some cartoony monster and eat him whole because god ━god if he felt in the midst of a storm, god if he didn’t even know where to put his hands because he wanted to, so much, he wanted his music out, he wanted again to rap and sing and dance, just dance with the beats of his own heart and feel that simple joy and soothing consolation of a drum kick and a double loop.

but maybe he was asking too much.

“ i... i don’t know. ”

it all started with the sound of rustling chairs and tight lipped executives making his entrance to speak, playing askew as if wanting to enforce the iron fist of the ultimate lead and bigger boss of the staggering and stagnant machine that was dimensions entertainment ━ahreum could feel himself sink in his assigned seat and the weight of his usb pen just growing stronger and stronger against his thigh, still with minjae’s voice ringing in his ear because he wondered in worry why was the manager holding him back for so long and he had to invent a quick excuse in hopes for the other to just take it and not ask anymore because he already felt so drained, he already felt that little bit of enthusiasm being sucked away from him at each single micromanaging of their music and their lives to the point that words left his mouth ( are you being selfish again ahreum? yes, you’re being selfish again ) and he was too tired to even try to stop himself from doing it ( selfish selfish selfish ), unfiltered, unleashed.

“ iwanttoreleasemymusic. ”

the silence felt innatural. the fuckup was real ━the way his stomach pulled and the regret slammed against his temples like a sledgehammer, one of the executives looking at him with puzzling eyes and he really wished for the window behind him not to be bulletproof and for the sidewalk to be less than several feet high. why had all offices to be in the highest floors? was it to prevent the fight or flight instincts to come to fruition? “ i believe i didn’t hear what you’ve said, rem-ssi, care to repeat? ” air was missing in his lungs and his cheeks were boiling and god god god what the hell has he done why has he done it why had he to be so fucking stupid━━such a birdbrain━━goddammit ahreum━━━

“ i said━━i want to release my music. ” silence remained around his own voice again, but it was now or never ━if he had to be kicked out for asking after so long, he’d rather leave with a bang. ” please, i want to release a solo. ”

#━ SELF-P ✦#self-loathing tw /#HE REALLY DID THAT !!!!

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liv-andletdie · 7 years ago

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Zelink Week 2018: Thunder

Author: liv-andletdie Rating: General Audiences Words: 3600+ Pairing: TP Zelink (post game) Notes: Alexei is 3 years old and terrified of thunder! Luckily Ma and Pa are always happy to help him weather the storm.

Also available on Ao3

<><><>

The rain came down in sheets. Sharp stinging drops hitting against the stones like arrows. Wind blew in tumultuous gales, shaking the glass in the window panes. In the distance, sharp blue light sparked in the sky as lightning struck the ground below. Thunder echoed through the air, reminiscent of a monster’s roar.

The young prince buried himself in his blankets, fear causing his body to shake as he pressed his face against his pillow. Salty tears trailed down his cheeks, weak sobs lost to the mighty sounds of the storm outside. The prince mumbled to himself, tiny hands rubbing his face as he repeated the words his father had told him.

“It’s only a storm, you’re safe it can’t hurt you”

Alexei was cut of from his mantra as another flash of lightning lit up his room. Blue white light stinging his eyes in a sudden flash. He let out a yelp, pulling the sheets over his head in an attempt to hide from the thunder outside.

“It can’t hurt you” he muttered to himself clinging to his pillows “it can’t hurt you, it can’t hurt you”

The windows shook and Alexei decided that enough was enough.

He wasn’t allowed to be scared anymore. He was 3 years old for goodness sake! Soon he’d be a big brother and then he’d need to be strong and brave like Pa. No more getting scared at sounds in the distance and lights in the sky, no more crying like a baby at the drop of a hat. Pa didn’t cry! Neither did Mama! Wiping his tears away, Alexei threw the blanket off of himself.

His determination lasted for all of 5 seconds before the lightning stuck again.

Terrified, he grabbed his blanket and leapt from the bed. The freezing cold stones burned his bare feet as he raced through his room, his blanket flowing behind him like the cape his father sometimes wore. His cheeks stained and his eyes blurry with fresh tears as a wave of fear took hold of him.

“It can’t hurt you” he repeated, reaching for the door that would take him to his parents rooms. He jumped frantically trying to pull the handle that would open the door. Thunder clapped again and Alexei could feel his heart pound against his ribs, desperation forcing him to jump higher, reach further.

His fist latched onto the handle, the metal cold to the touch. Using his entire body weight he pulled down, causing the door to swing open and send him tumbling across the floor to the reception area. Alexei looked up from his place, sprawled across the stones, taking in the way the room looked in the dark. The shadows seemed to loom over him, draining all the light from the world. The fire pit, once a source of brightness and warmth, was now cold and dark, and the furniture was nothing but vague shapes, illuminated periodically by flashes of blue and white. And somewhere an old clock could be heard over the din of the storm, a comforting tick tock that steadied his heartbeat.

The young prince pushed himself up from the floor, shuffling into the middle of the room next to the table where he played cards with Mama. The memory brought him a shred of comfort as he pulled himself onto the couch, the cushions frosty to the touch. Once seated as comfortably as possible, young Alexei looked around the room for the clock.

A flash of lightning lit up the room as the prince stared at the clock face. For a second he could see the hands and the numbers, proudly displayed in ancient wood, the big hand pointing to the 7, the little hand pointing to the 8. Mama and Pa won’t be in bed yet he lamented, biting back tears at how hopeless he felt. He’d wanted to go to them, to cuddle in between his parents, wrapped in sheets. His father’s comforting snores drowning out the storm, his mother’s warm embrace helping him to sleep.

But that wouldn’t be possible now. They were at dinner, Mama had dressed up pretty so it must have been important. He could remember the way the candle light had twinkled against her dress as she came to sing him to sleep. A Galaxy of stars wrapped around her.

“It’ll be alright sweetheart” she’d cooed, pressing a kiss against his forehead as the storm had started, “Mama’s here”

Another crack of thunder broke him from his daydream, his small yelp muffled by the blanket. He felt the tears well up, his vision going blurry and turning the already dark room into a mess of shadows.

“Mama” he sobbed “Pa… help me” Tears flowed down his cheeks, hot and painful as he cried out. Wailing in fear as the storm raged outside. “I’m scared”

<><><>

Dinners with dignitaries were not Link’s forte. Give him a sword and a bow and he could solve any problem, win any fight. But put him in a room with a bunch of posh, smartly dressed, windbags and he faltered. This was Zelda’s battleground not his.

She sat at next to him at the head of the table, lost in conversation with one of her ministers. Her eyes drooped slightly, fatigue already settling in, as she balanced her chin on one elegant fist. Link was astounded by how she made the action look so wonderful, how she managed to give the illusion that she was raptly listening to everything that fell out of the ministers mouth.

In the distance thunder cracked and Link fought back the shiver that ran down his spine. He hated storms. He supposed it was natural, all animals feared storms in some capacity or other. He couldn’t remember hating storms per say. In fact he had a few fond memories of sitting in the barn with Fado keeping the goats calm as thunder and lightning shook the earth. It was only after his quest did he begin to find discomfort in the way the sky churned.

Poor Alexei wasn’t a fan either.

Link tried not to think about his son, worry gripping his heart like a vice. He’ll be fine, he told himself, He’ll sleep right through it. He began to shovel soup into his mouth, trying to distract himself from the image of his little boy shaking in fear. A few of the dignitaries looked at him strangely as he swallowed loudly.

Zelda glanced at him from the corner of her eye, a gloved hand slipping under the table to hold his knee. Link felt himself shudder, her touch more electric than the lightning outside. He turned to catch her eye, thanking her for her silent support.

She smiled at him. Excusing herself from her conversation she leaned closer to him. Her floral perfume making him feel at peace.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her thumb tracing circles over his skin, “is it the weather?”

Link just shook his head, dropping his hand to hold hers, his pinkie grazing over the silk at her wrist. “Alexei” he replied, voice low so only she could hear him.

Zelda glanced at the door, then back to him, her violet blue eyes glinting in the candle light. He watched as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, the same fears playing on her mind.

“Go check on him” she whispered, squeezing his hand.

“I can’t. You know how difficult it is for him to get to sleep, if I wake him up now he’ll be up for the rest of the night”

Zelda’s shoulders dropped, defeat clear in her eyes. Link had a point, Alexei was a terrible sleeper. She had taken to sitting on the edge of his bed and waiting for him to drift off. But time had been of the essence tonight and she’d been unable to do more than sing a lullaby for him before being dragged away to the dining room. She blamed Link, he had delayed her dressing with his wandering hands and distracting smile, a tactic she normally had the strength to avoid. It had been downright scheming of him to take advantage of her current state, knowing just how receptive she was to his touch.

Though it wasn’t like she could complain, he’d have stopped if she’d asked him to.

She tried not to linger on his distraction, instead turning her thoughts to her son. Little Alexei would hopefully be asleep, blissfully unaware of the tumultuous weather outside, though for some reason she doubted that that was the case.

“We could ask-”

“I ain’t sending a nanny in there Zelda” he cut her off, his tone growing hard, “if he needs help then I’m gonna be the one to help him, not some stranger”

Zelda squeezed his knee, “alright” she surrendered “we won’t send a nanny in”

Link seemed pacified with that, turning his attention back to his soup. His appetite now gone entirely.

<><><>

Alexei watched as the big hand moved to the 8. Mama and Pa still weren’t back, they probably wouldn’t be for a while. Maybe when the big hand is on the 9? He wondered, pulling the blanket up higher around him, but that’s too many tick tocks! I can’t sit here that long!

With the next roll of thunder Alexei made a plan.

<><><>

Zelda pushed her vegetables around on the plate. Beside her Link drummed his fingers on the table. His half eaten soup had been taken away from him, replaced by a mouth watering roast beef dinner. All of the dignitaries had greedily tucked in, eating as if they would never get the chance to again. All, that was, except Link.

Zelda put her hand over his, her pinkie grazing his wrist under his shirt cuff. His drumming stopped as he glanced at her.

“You haven’t touched your food” She said her eyes glancing down at his plate, still full. Link followed her gaze, staring guiltily at the bountiful meal in front of him. It was still hot, steam curling off the plate in elegant whisps.

“I can’t eat” he murmured, feeling her hand squeeze his in support.

<><><>

Alexei had been around the whole castle before. Pa had taken him on walks, Mama showed him the art on the walls, and Uncle Shad and Auntie Ashei had lost numerous games of hide and seek.

But that was during the day.

At night, with a storm brewing overhead the castle became a much more sinister place. Every shadow held a new and terrifying monster, every sound became a reason to run. His heart raced as he turned the corner, clinging to the stone walls, his blanket trailing behind him.

He had left the safety of his rooms on his very own quest. He needed to find Mama and Pa, he couldn’t be scared anymore. Pa wasn’t scared on his quest, The young prince thought as he snuck past empty suits of armour in scary shadowy alcoves. Pa’s a hero! Nothing scares him!

Building up his courage, Alexei snuck through dark and secretive hallways. The night threatened to suffocate him, closing in on him at every turn. He tried to stay in the light of the lanterns that lined the walls. Their orange glow much more comforting than the electric bright light of the lightning strikes.

The Prince came to a split in his path, the corridor turning left and right in front of him. He knew that Mama and Pa would be in the fancy dining room, she’d worn the pretty dress and Pa had put on a cool doublet! They must be there!

The only issue was that Alexei didn’t know where the fancy dining room was.

He’d been there twice for his birthday, that he knew. He also knew it was somewhere with tall windows and that it faced the gardens. He remembered sitting on his mother’s lap as they watched the gardeners working.

“Every job is important” she had said, bouncing him on her knee “even the most seemingly meaningless jobs are important. We should never judge anyone based on the job they do. Only the kind of person they are”

Thinking of his mother filled him with the confidence to continue. He had a 50% chance of heading in the correct direction, of finding safety and comfort, of not being trapped in the dark twisting labyrinth that the castle became.

Taking a deep breath Alexei turned right.

<><><>

“You’re worried about him” Zelda said, her own appetite rapidly vanishing. Link had his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. He didn’t care that it was bad manners, he needed to check on his son!

“The storm’s stronger than we figured it’d be” he grumbled “He ain’t ever been in one this big! What if he’s scared?!”

Suddenly the door to the dining room flew open. A hush of silence fell upon the room as every nobel and guard turned to stare at the newcomer. Link moved himself in front of Zelda, unable to see who had entered but ready and willing to lay down his life to protect her.

The silence grew heavy, everyone holding their breath. Zelda pulled on Link’s sleeve trying to tell him something. From her seat at the head of the table she could see everyone who entered that door. Link was about to turn and face her when a small, scared, voice echoed through the cavernous room.

“M-mama?...Pa?”

Link leapt out of his seat, his heart practically stopping in his chest when he saw his son.

Alexei stood in the doorway, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, fresh tears falling down his chubby little cheeks. He looked so small, so frightened as he stared at the room of strangers. Unable to find his parents faces in the crowd he fought back a whimper. I have to be brave, I have to be brave.

Link’s chair clattered on the ground behind him, his footsteps rivalling the thunder as he ran from the table. He ignored the scandalised gasps of the nobility, he needed to reach his little boy.

He scooped his son up in his arms, his hand threading through Alexei’s hair as he hummed and murmured, “I’m here” he was saying “I’m here it’s okay”. Another clap of thunder caused Alexei to yelp, his little arms wrapping around his father’s neck as he buried his face in the thick fabric of Link’s doublet.

Some of the dignitaries had the common decency to look away and give the family some privacy. Others, mostly the lesser nobles, continued to gawk at the boy prince and the hero.

Zelda’s footsteps could be heard shortly after. She was slower than her husband but no less hurried as she rushed to join her family. Her and Link shared a look as Alexei let out another heartbreaking sob.

“I’ll have your food sent up” she said leaning in to press a kiss against her son’s head, desperately trying to blink back tears. “Take him upstairs” Before these idiots upset him even more.

Link bowed his head in understanding before leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek. Lifting his son higher in his arms, and wrapping the blanket around him more comfortably, Link departed through the open door; leaving his wife and the nobility behind

<><><>

Alexei clung to his father as he was carried back to bed. His tears had long since dried, now content and happy in his father’s safe embrace. Not even the Thunder could hurt them now.

Link opened the door with his foot, carefully balancing so he wouldn’t drop the child in his arms. The thin blue blanket that Alexei had wrapped around himself was beginning to fall loose, tangling around Link’s knees as he walked to his and Zelda’s bedroom.

The rain continued to pound against the window as father and son sat down on the bed. Piles of cushions and quilts, perfect for keeping out the winter chill, coated the bed. And as Link lowered Alexei down the young prince found himself perfectly happy to bury himself in the mountainous throws and pillows.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed, you okay here bud?” Link asked, brushing his son’s pale gold hair behind his ears. Alexei just nodded, wrapping his arms around his mother’s pillow. Link pressed a gentle kiss to his chest before disappearing behind a changing screen.

The rain was beginning to let up, thunder growing distant and lightning growing weak. Alexei found himself falling into a semi peaceful sleep, only interrupted by his father muttering to himself about how there was far too many buttons to be reasonable, what is this madness?

Link emerged from behind the screen just as a knock sounded at the door. He shot his son a comforting glance, promising to back as soon as he could before leaving the room.

Alexei hugged the pillow tighter. It smelled nice, like Mama. Had Mama been angry with him? She’d told Pa to take him upstairs… did she not want to see him? Had he messed up? Anxiety began to flood his chest as fresh tears clogged his throat. Did Mama hate him now? He didn’t want her to hate him! He was almost sobbing again by the time Link returned, a plate of roast beef in his hands.

“How’ya doin kiddo?” he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Not getting a response, Link slid the plate onto the bedside table, turning so he was sitting with his back against the pillows, his son at his side.

Alexei buried his face into Zelda’s pillow, his little body shaking with sobs. Link pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back and kissing his head, muttering soothing words as the rain came to a stop.

“I’m sorry” Alexei sobbed, his voice almost lost in the cushions and pillows that surrounded them, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry”

“Hey, hey what’s this about?” Link whispered, pulling back so he could wipe the tears from his cheeks “what’s brought this on?”

Alexei’s lip quivered, his eyes dropping to the pillow he held grasped in his hands. “I got scared and now Mama hates me”

“Mama doesn’t hate you!” Link soothed “Mama could never hate you”

“B-but I...I messed up” Alexei began to sob again, Link’s heart breaking at the sound. Turning to the bedside table Link fished around in one of the drawers before pulling out a hankie. It was one that Colin had made for him when he moved to castle town, he’d always been hesitant about blowing his nose in it, however this seemed like the time to use it.

Wiping away Alexei’s tears, Link shuffled further down the bed so they could see each other eye to eye. The young prince still clung onto the pillow, his face red and his eyes shining.

“How’d you mess up?” Link asked, rearranging blankets and pillows to make the two of them more comfortable.

“I was meant t-to be strong. B-but I got scared again and…and I need to be brave because Mama’s got a baby in her tummy and I’m gonna be a bigger brother so I need… I need to be brave and I can’t b-be brave if I’m scared”

“Well that’s not true” Link huffed, tucking his son’s hair out of his face, “that’s the only time a person can be brave, when they are absolutely terrified”

Alexei fell silent. His hands slipping from the pillow, fingers reaching for Link’s hand. The hero offered it up, a small smile on his face as his son traced the skin over his knuckles.

“D-do you ever get scared” he asked timidly, unsure of what answer he wanted.

“All the time. It ain’t a bad thing, being scared means you’re smart. If you didn’t get scared you’d never know when something could hurt you, or hurt someone you care about” Link rubbed a hand down Alexei’s back, “Mama doesn’t hate you. She loves you so much, and so do I and so will your baby brother or sister”

Alexei pushed forward, burying his face in Link’s chest as he wrapped his little arms around him. Fresh tears falling, but these tears were happy tears. Link returned the hug, relishing in the silence and the comfort that the end of the storm brought them. How right it felt to be surrounded by cushions, his son in his arms. Nothing could ruin this moment, not even the sound of his stomach rumbling.

The prince let out a joyful giggle at the sound as Link pulled out of the embrace.

“Sounds like I’m hungry” he joked, pulling his plate off of the table and sitting up, “You wanna help me finish this? There’s a lot here and I wanna save room for pudding”

Alexei nodded enthusiastically as Link began to cut the meat into smaller bites, lifting his arm so his son could snuggle against his side.

<><><>

When Zelda came back from dinner she found them tangled up in blankets, an empty plate on the bedside table, a mountain of cushions strewn across the bed. Link lay sprawled out on his back, Alexei draped over his side. His blue blanket had been lost at the bottom of the bed. Letting out a gentle sigh Zelda pulled it from the pile, draping it over her little boy’s shoulders, taking a moment to admire how calm and happy he looked.

Zelda pressed a kiss to his head, then a kiss to Link’s cheek, before she slid behind the screen and got ready for bed. Excitement and pride filling her chest at the thought of her little family growing in the next few months.

~Fin~

Notes: It was only a matter of time before I brought TP Zelink into this! (A Zelink baby still counts as Zelink right?) Introducing the eldest of the Wolf Cubs, Alexei Nicholas Link of Hyrule. I was super excited to get the chance to write for him and when I found out that wolves do not like Thunder I knew this was the perfect prompt!

#zelink #tp zelink #zelink week 2018 #TP Zelink cubs #zelink fanfic #link #zelda

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