Snow White (stan uris)
Request: “I just had a thought. Stan crushing on a girl that is like a Disney princess like birds with sit on her shoulders and let her pet them and deer walk up to her and softly nudge her. Feral stray cats turn into kitten putty at her fingertips like stuff like that”
Pairing: reader/Stan Uris
Stan presses his back against the tall tree trunk, hoping you didn’t see him creeping by.
He had noticed a few times while walking home, that you had always split off into the forest. It always intrigued him, but he hadn’t the will to follow until now.
He peeks out from behind the tree, watching intently as you stand there in the clearing, a single arm extended out in front of you. You look almost angelic, with a single ray of light bursting through the thick canopy, making you glow.
Stan hears a few loud chirps.
You’re smiling softly as several small, colorful birds land gracefully on your outstretched arm. A few more follow, perched on your shoulder and one blue jay on your head. He can’t believe his eyes; he’d never seen birds behave like that, especially wild ones.
He blinks rapidly, assuming it must all just be a figment of his imagination as you give a particularly small yellow bird a stroke across the head with your index finger. Wild birds don’t just let people pet them.
As you’re preoccupied with your tiny friends, a fawn moves gingerly towards you, ears perked up, and head tilted upwards in interest. It makes a small circle around you, before giving you a gentle nudge and falling asleep at your feet.
Stan turns around, hands pressed firmly into the rough bark as he spies.
He didn’t know many girls – or people in general, that wouldn’t shriek in terror if a bird got too close. It was almost like a dream.
You seemed to have a real affinity with animals. You were like a living magnet to everything gentle and soft that inhabited the small portion of the forest.
Stan’s heart swells in his chest with a sudden affection, and he silently makes his way out of the forest, leaving you to your furry friends.
Stan checks his watch timidly. His friends were supposed to be there by now. He sighs to himself, feeling a little ridiculous standing alone by a street post with his bike untouched beside him, propped up on its stand.
He jumps slightly, startled when he feels something rough and wirey dart past his legs. His first thought is a monstrously large rodent; a simple look however, shows it is just a stray cat. It returns his firm stare and opens its mouth, hissing loud.
Stan shifts a little in the other direction, as if an inch or two extra space would turn the cat back on its path to wonder elsewhere. He was never fond of the things. Especially when they dropped dead birds at his feet, as his childhood pet had done several times.
He remembers all the tears spent burying the poor things in his backyard, never noting them in his book, and becomes bitter. Dead birds didn’t count
‘‘Hey there,” somebody coos to his right. For a second, he thinks they’re referring to him.
He looks over, cheeks flushing red when he notices you crouch down and begin to stroke the cats thick grey fur. It’s back arches into your outstretched hand as it walks circles around you, leaning into your touch with each lap. Stan is aware of the contented rumble coming from its tiny chest and he stares in awe.
He was sure it wanted blood, not even a minute ago.
You look up, and he looks quickly in the other direction.
“Hey Stan,” you say with a grin. “Was Greyson giving you trouble?”
Greyson…? Oh. The damn cat.
“You named it?” Stan asks in disbelief. The more he encounters and interacts with you, the more he begins to see you as just as much a part of nature as a deer, or a centipede.
…And the more his heart swells and flutters at the sight of you.
You shrug, “just then. I’ve seen her try to attack some of the locals, but I think she’s just misunderstood, you know?”
Misunderstood only to you, who can see the purity in even vicious beings.
“How do you do it?” He gestures to the cat now laying snug at your feet. “How are you so good with animals, I mean?”
The question isn’t at his own interest to interact with wild animals, though he didn’t dislike the thought of a couple of birds sleeping sound and cute as hell on his shoulder. Rather, he’s genuinely curious why animals are naturally attracted to your presence. Was it a natural charm? Was it learnt from an old book?
Maybe she’s not actually real.
He pushes the grim thought from his mind, and remembers why he was standing there waiting for his friends in the first place. They were going to Neibolt for probably – hopefully – the last time.
Unless she morphs into that clown and eats me alive before we have the chance.
“I never really thought about it. Maybe I’m just too good to be true,” you say with a wink.
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”
Your eyebrows raise in shock; you hadn’t expected him to actually agree with your joke. The boy that had perfect posture suddenly seemed a little too flustered to stand up straight as he realizes what he said, trying his hardest not to make eye contact with you.
His curls are cute, you think. You have a strange urge to scratch his scalp like a dog, or the cat at your feet.
You smile and stand up, heading down your original path. You had been meaning to collect a few bits and pieces from the convenience store before you got distracted, something that happened often. Your attention span was ridiculous at times, especially when outside.
As you pass Stan, you reach up and ruffle his hair. His curls shake and move from his face, but the wind blows them back into their rightful spot. He doesn’t move away from your hand, in fact, he could easily be mistaken for a statue.
“Well, catch you later, Stan the man!” You call over your shoulder.
His heart accelerates, and he quickly glances at his watch, noticing his 5 friends cycling towards him with grave expressions. He looks back to your retreating form.
“Catch you later, Snow White!”