#and still then! destiny beckons and she goes

[the-crooked-library]

The Gender Narrative - from Buffy the Vampire Slayer to A24

Alright so I know this topic has probably been explored to hell and back (pun intended), but a transgender lens reading of Buffy the Vampire Slayer has beckoned me for years; and seeing I Saw the TV Glow yesterday was probably the last push I needed to get this out in writing. As we know, the film features a fictional television show heavily inspired by BTVS - and the framing highlights the same aspects I've wanted to dissect, so let's dive into it.

Spoilers under the cut!

Throughout its run, and despite its imperfections, BTVS drew much of its messaging from 90s (and early 2000s)-era feminism. Buffy's presentation as a sparkly, pink, girly girl is central to her character and her destiny. She is an icon of what girls can do and accomplish, even with the whole world against them - and, in this context, it is absolutely, startlingly captivating that her personal life revolves around a perpetual struggle for her right to girlhood.

Despite being the picture-perfect blonde Valley Girl on the surface, Buffy often finds herself barred from that existence by her Slayer identity. She is consistently perceived as too strong, too capable, too aggressive, too independent, too dangerous - and, ultimately, too masculine to participate even in the most stereotypical milestones of a girl in high school. Still, that experience is what she craves the most; so she signs up for the cheer squad, she loves shopping, she runs for Prom Queen, and she goes out slaying in a halter top, with perfect bouncy curls. In essence, Buffy Summers is desperate to pass - which takes us to ISTTG and the root of its story.

The two main characters of ISTTG - "Owen" and "Maddy" - are obsessed with a popular YA series, The Pink Opaque; which, between its credits font, its girl power themes, and monster-of-the-week format, is demonstrated to be an in-universe parallel to BTVS. The Buffy equivalent - or, the pink, pretty, sensitive, and powerful Isabel - is a point of utter fascination for "Owen."

there are no good stills of her online yet please forgive me

She is everything he wants to be, everything he is meant to be; and the time he spends with "Maddy", wearing a pink dress, a pink ghost drawn on the back of his neck, the pink glow of the TV vivid on his face, is the only time he feels anything approaching to happiness or peace. The very first sequence of the film establishes that "Owen" barely responds to his own name, that his father is a walking threat of what society commands him to become, and that his mother is loving but distant. Even later on, when he apparently has a "family of [his] own", we never even see their faces. Within the context of his life, he is little more than a ghost, going through the motions; and as the story goes on, it is revealed that "Owen" is Isabel, trapped in a false reality by Mr. Melancholy, the Big Bad of TPO. Her heart was carved out, she is drugged, and buried alive; and the sound of her slowly choking to death overlays "Owen's" steadily worsening asthma.

There is no denying the truth of that alternate existence by the end of the film. "Owen's" life is a nightmarish suffocation. Isabel is dying from a life of a boy she never was - in what is, explicitly, a transgender narrative.

The same story is directly mirrored by "Maddy."

Within the premise of ISTTG, she is the similarly trapped and suffocating "Tara"; or, the second half of the Pink Opaque - who, over the course of the film, discovers the truth of their reality, returns to the world of the TV show, and then comes back, unwilling to leave Isabel behind. However, what is particularly notable is that while her character's name is, of course, an homage to Tara Maclay (made all the more obvious via Amber Benson's cameo), the "Tara" of TPO is nothing like the soft-spoken, pastel-wearing witch.

Instead, she is a bold, loud punk with slicked-back hair and a leather jacket, who snarks at the monsters-of-the-week and speaks in poetry - she's Spike; and that provides the basis for her dynamic with "Owen" throughout the film.

In the world of BTVS, Spike is largely presented as a foil to Buffy's character. He is her thematic (and extremely sexually compatible) opposite; and that extends to his own relationship with gender. His story arc is defined by his struggle to be perceived as a man; on the Watsonian level, it is an identity persistently overshadowed by his vampirism - and in the Doylist sense, his poetry, occasional eyeliner, and painted nails might have something to do with that situation. Regardless, it is a significant factor in his narrative, both before and after his original, human death - to the point where he bonds with Buffy's mother, Joyce, specifically because she "treated [him] like a man"; and in the context of ISTTG, the same themes extend directly to "Maddy." In S5:Ep7 of BTVS (Fool for Love), Spike states that "getting killed made [him] feel alive for the very first time" - and when "Maddy" returns from the world of TPO, she explains that the only way to survive what Mr. Melancholy had done to them was to bury herself alive and die in the false world. Her statement is a monologue of slam poetry, spoken without interruption and illuminated by the steady blue of a high school planetarium; and while "Owen's" experience of blue lighting is usually aggressive and abrasive, "Maddy's" is soothing. It is right. It ties directly to what she is meant to be, even as her story inevitably terrifies "Owen" - who, much like Buffy, is not yet ready to face the truth of who he is or allow himself to indulge the desires he's buried for all his life.

From what I understand, the finale of the film has proven to be divisive; some interpret it as hopeful, others as crushingly bleak - but as a BTVS fan, and a trans man myself, I cannot see it as anything other than a peak of sheer, overwhelming panic that is only experienced at the very precipice of Change. My reason for it is rooted in the parallels between the respective season 5 finales of BTVS and TPO. For Isabel and "Tara," the story ends with their apparent defeat at the hands of Mr. Melancholy; and Buffy's ends with her sacrificing herself to save the world. She dies. She is buried. And then there's season 6. As such, inevitably, "Owen" is going to accept the truth of himself; he is going to die, Isabel is going to claw her way out of a grave - and when she does, only one person is going to understand what happened.

In conclusion - they are T4T. To me. And to Jane Schoenbrun, I suppose.

[synnthamonsugar]

Synnth's Fic Rec Friday . . . #2!

Inspired by the fic rec listed started by @a-driftamongopenstars and the Friday fic rec series by @flowers-of-io. I thought I would throw my hat into the ring with my own weekly(ish) series. (Tag: Synnth Recs)

A Dance for the Ages

By @endivinity

Read on AO3

Fandom: Destiny | Rating: Teen | Characters: Eris Morn, Savathun, Oryx | Word count: 4,188 | Warnings: None

Eris had been warned, as a little girl, not to go down to the marsh alone after dark. There were lights that bobbed enticingly on the horizon, beckoning her with their charming glow that she knew well to ignore and turn away from; grasping claws that look like lakeweed until an unknowing traveler stepped within their drifting clutches

I have a complicated relationship with fantasy/fae/magic AUs. I think it's easy to simply drop existing characters into a stock magical setting and call it a day. But at their best, these sorts of AUs understand the original settings and characters of a work and map them seamlessly onto a unique new world.

This is fae AU at its best, a fic that respects both its source material and offers a compelling recontextualization of its characters & events.

She is returning, the night of a full-moon. Silver horseshoes affix to her boots, making her steps weighty but for all the howling and hungry eyes shining red in between the trees, she is not bothered. Baskets of herbs sway from the heavy bindle over her shoulder. “Traveler,” an unfamiliar voice croons, so close it could almost be at her ear. “Thou'rt far from home, in this place.” It's melodic and beautiful, and immediately Eris's hand goes to the salt-kissed blade at her hip. She turns slowly, letting a silvered shoe dig into the dry dirt of the path, grounding her with intent: she will not be moved. Her eyes meet those of a woman.

One of the first things I noticed about A Dance For The Ages is the way its style pays homage to classic fairytale narration. There's a rhythm to the narration that's immensely compelling — I could not put it down once I started reading.

“Such busy folk,” a familiar oil-slick voice drips into her ears, and she startles, almost dropping her mug. A goat stands beside her, black hair forming a mantle, black raking horns, black eyes. It chews a stalk of wheat thoughtfully. “You are no mere siren,” Eris says. “Indeed I am not.” “What is it you ask of me this time?” It is a bold question, yet nonetheless accurate. A wight such as this would never appear benignly without purpose. The goat chews and chews the wheat until it is all gone, grain-husks crunched beneath teeth that carry glimpses of being razor sharp. “I bear a craving for fruits of the summer. If thou'rt diligent at pastry-craft, a pie upon the sill,” she requests, swapping to the old-speak easy as breathing. “I offer a trinket, in return.”

The dialog between Savathûn and Eris is such a delight to read, and I love the way the story leans in to Savathûn's status as trickster; always shifting shapes, always offering deals and challenges and cryptic wisdom.

The village did not baulk at her eyes, nor did they stop in their care. It is a comfort, to still be so loved, even after her desperate choices. She saved them, they tell her, as she helps deliver a stuck lamb; the season's first, and a sign of the Fell King's touch upon the land and his theft of their blessing of the coming year. It will take work, but they will work through it. She saved them, they say, and so she deserves to choose to save herself in turn. It is hard. But she is not alone.

I adore the characterization of Eris as respected wise-woman and witch, as someone who makes hard decisions but own them, as someone who faces immense hardship without falling victim.

“Sathona,” Eris whispers, and heedless of the stories and truths of the swamp's dangers, of the mud and the water and the startled frogs, she surges forward. Sathona catches her easily, braced as she is on elegantly sweeping legs and cloven hooves. “Hello, darling,” Sathona says, the smile evident in her voice for all that Eris cannot see it with her face buried in Sathona's midriff with the force of her embrace. “Thank you for the gifts.”

The actual Savathûn/Eris aspect of this fic is wonderfully light-touch and tender, walking the line between platonic love, romance, and some secret other thing. I love the blurring of Eris' and Savathûn's identities — shared struggles and vision — in a way that slots perfectly into their canon.

Genuinely, this is one of the most refreshing and bittersweet and beautiful fics I've read in a long while. What are you doing still reading this review! Go read it instead!

[allegra-j-joann]

Writing Scrap #7

The door wasn't supposed to be open that day, nor any day, those boys weren't supposed to chase him, and his blood wasn't meant to be spilled on the stained flagstones of the ruined hall, and yet these things had a funny way of happening when they shouldn't.

"What brings a child so near?" the woman's voice cracked like the stones around her, the ruin witch, wearing a faded shroud over her head as she beckoned him over "didn't anyone tell you not to come in here?"

"Telling me never did much good, besides, those idiots wouldn't dare follow me in here, too scared of being eaten by the ruin witch" he watched her, scoffing and kicking a loose stone, he couldn't deny he was surprised to find she was a real person but he couldn't bring himself to be afraid of her, she was so small after all, probably no taller than himself, thin, with grey skin that clung like wet paper to her bones, he could probably fight her off if she was a threat.

"so, you have no idea why you're here then, do you, what's your name?" she spoke gently, one sentence running into another tonelessly.

"I'm here because I was chased, it's not complicated, or what, is there some great destiny hidden in these ruins?" he shrugged sarcastically, not looking at her now, her voice remained flat and yet her next words were enough to make him freeze.

"Mine was, but no Seb," she watched his stunned expression as a stranger used his name "your destiny doesn't have to be here, you were simply brought to listen to a story that must be passed on as soon as possible" she shifted on her stone seat, looking around the hall, though he wondered how she saw anything with the heavy old fabric that covered her entire top half.

warily he sat at her feet, he saw no harm in a story, especially if he aimed to wait out the boys still lingering at the distant archway,and the ruin witch seemed gentle enough.

"This story, as I've found so many to do, begins a grand nine hundred and forty seven years ago, with the Guild of Heroes, a collection of the best  Thyraise, Doremi and Wraiths Marsh could offer, The strongest warriors, the most gifted mages and alchemists, and the most talented spies and archers, but their strength was not what set them apart and made them heroes, that was their compassion and generosity, when the king's vanity and lust for power began to put the kingdom out of balance, turning people against each other, they remained kind, assisting the people wherever they could, but for all their strength and goodness, when a great threat arose, a god deposed of his throne, all they could do was put him to sleep, costing them greatly and-"

"no." Seb cut her off, raising one scarred hand "that's not how the story goes at all!"

she hesitated a moment, a slight smile playing hidden on her face "oh?" she asked "are you sure? perhaps this is simply a story you don't know" she paused "or perhaps you're more familiar with the second guild, they were quite a bit more...interesting, I suppose"

"You say that like you knew them" he huffed

"Oh I did, I knew them all"

[dancinginthemoonlight-xx]

part two

“the what now?” i smile weakly: it feels more like a grimace.

“the querencia.” he said. “miss sterling, if you please, follow me.”

i could only follow him.

he led me through hallways. my footsteps felt loud and clumsy in the darkness, since edward’s footsteps were virtually silent against the stone ground.

we stopped in front of an oak door, flecked and spotted with age. the previously gleaming bronze was green and rough.

edward’s sapphire eyes darted from left to right— checking to make sure the coast was clear.

then he knocked thrice on the door.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

a soft voice, presumably from the other side, whispered:

“there is a place. one goes in blind, then comes out seeing. what is it?”

edward looked down at me and smiled faintly. he wanted me to answer to riddle— not because he didn’t know the answer, but to test me.

i raised my eyebrows and whispered back, “a school.”

the lock clicked and edward pushed the door open.

it didn’t even creak.

“after you, miss sterling.”

a freezing breeze blew into the dark depths, pulling strands of my hair past my face. a shiver ran down my spine as i gleaned the long, winding staircase passage leading down into the murky darkness, torches bolted onto the walls flickering, casting dancing shadows onto the stone ground.

this staircase led to underneath the school. and i knew that the professors had no idea this existed.

i dropped the lamp i was holding and edward smirked at my dumbfounded look.

he grinned and headed down the stairs, beckoning me to follow.

i cast a dark look at the bolted oaken door and followed him down, feeling the cold air biting at my cheeks.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

we arrived at a landing, and my eyes widened. this had to be some kind of absolutely wild dream. maybe i was insane.

velvet carpets muffled the sound of my footsteps. the walls were lined with rows and rows of bookshelves, the spines bearing words of languages i had never seen before. a blazing fire was burning in an ornate fireplace.

but that wasn’t the part that intrigued me the most.

it was the ring of people, sitting in a circle, faces all turned expectantly in my direction. i felt like a deer in headlights as i swept my gaze past the upturned faces.

“welcome to the querencia, miss sterling.” edward said quietly.

i was, for once, at lost for words. just nine days ago i was happily living my best life. and now i was underneath the school, recruited into some cult.

i started laughing nervously, edging towards the stairs. the sound echoed dismally in the silence.

“this is really, really funny, alright?” my voice quivered. “inviting me out at midnight, to join some cult, i’m sorry, but i did not sign up, you’ve definitely got the wrong person- oof!”

i had backed into edward, standing like a marble statue in front of the stairs.

stopping me from leaving.

one by one, the people in the ring stood up.

“you have been invited into the querenica.” edward said. a warning.

“and i don’t want to join your cult.” i said, scowling.

a raven-haired spoke. i turned towards her, fuming.

“estelle sterling- we have invited you for a reason.” her voice was light, but with a dark undertone.

i stared her down. “i don’t like that reason. i never wanted this.”

“the querencia only accepts members who are particularly talented. you should be honoured.”

“well i’m not.” i spat. “now if you please, i need to get to bed.”

the girl let out a derisive laugh but i held my ground, despite seeing no way past edward blocking the stairs. something like fear pumped through my veins.

"please, i don't want any part of this." i pleaded. but she continued approaching, an unsettling gleam in her sapphire eyes.

then, from the shadows, a voice.

"enough. can't you see you're frightening the poor girl? let her be if she wishes to leave."

the dark-haired girl paused, her eyes still fixed on me.

i couldn't make out features beneath the cloak but the voice held an eerie soothing tone.

"go, if that is your choice. but know that a destiny greater than you know awaits, if you change your mind and return."

with that, edward stepped aside. his eyes were icy cold.

i didn't wait for further comment, darting up the stairs and into the night. i ran without stopping, my feet pounding against the icy stones, mind reeling, until collapsing, exhausted in my bed.

i tossed and turned all night, dreams haunted by glimpses of cloaked figures and echoing voices that seemed to come from every direction at once.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

when dawn finally came, pale light strained through my curtains, i dragged myself up with a pounding head.

for a while i lay listening to early morning sounds drift in through the open window, leaves rustling in a faint breeze. trying to convince myself it had all been some strange nightmare. but my swirling thoughts kept returning to the secret room beneath the school, the ring of watchers, the chilling words of the hooded stranger.

part of me was desperate to shut the memory away, to forget it had ever happened. and yet deep down, a curiosity lingered that i couldn't deny. an urge to solve the mystery and understand what truly went on in that hidden place.

with a sigh, i rolled out of bed. maybe a morning walk would help clear my head. i got dressed slowly, still lost in thought.

i’d find edward and get those answers to my long list of questions.

five reblogs for part three??

[saunne]

Jing Yuan is part of a future to which he does not yet belong and to which he has perhaps, in fact, never really wanted to belong. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, something that cries out for hope and new love, for the warmth of the sun and laughter like bells. He can see silhouettes cut out like shadows against the light, beckoning him to join them and rejoice.

(And the world enfold, in a warm and luminous dream. There, all is beauty and symmetry, pleasure and calm and luxury.)

But Jing Yuan grew up accustomed to the dark, to the solitary sweetness of the night. What would he be without the feather-light brush of its veils, nestled in its tender hands and the comfort of its embrace ?

(And he sleeps and sleeps and sleeps as the night of his closed eyelids offers him the sanctuary of past dreams. There's no remedy for memory, but he does not wish to be free. He'll live for the escapism, motionless witness and forever-living anachronism.)

What would he be without the childlike wonder at the lucky sight of a comet's tail, pale and feathery and as fleeting as the blink of an eye ? What would he be without the watchful eye of a distant and changing moon, whose ice-cold glow yet felt warm ? What would he be without the intangible reflection of this same moon, much closer but so much more inaccessible, whose simplest touch of this drowned solitude blurred its outline until it became unrecognizable ? What would it be without the faint glow of the stars, distant and forgotten except for those who dare to look at what remains after the gravitational collapse ?

(And isn’t that ironic, isn’t that sad, isn’t that dramatic ? Embodiment of sunlight, vainly in love with the night ?)

(But even the darkest night will end, for the sun will rise.)

Jing Yuan is the observer, the witness, the record. He is the sacrificial Atlas on whose shoulders the world rests, suffering under its weight without ever belonging to it. He chained himself to the ruins in the hope of becoming part of it, despite the fact that the world is moving forward, despite the fact that the world is forgetting, despite the fact that no one wants to hear about it anymore, not even those first concerned.

(Leave the past in the past, Jing Yuan, they say.)

I'm not him, he says. I'm not him anymore, he says. That's all in the past, she says.

(It's time to move forward Jing Yuan, she says.)

He looks at the future and those advancing towards it, drinking in the sight of a glittering path of dawn-colored promises. He listens to the promises carried by the solar wind and to the rest whispered in the warm glow of a new sun as he longs for the solace of his tormented soul.

His fingers are numb and clumsy as he picks up the pieces of himself from the ruins. Their edges are still sharp, as even time hasn't been able to round the edges of his mourning. But he picks them up anyway, even if it hurts, even if he bleeds.

(If not for the obligation, then for love.)

It is with love that he cradles them in his soiled hands. It is with love that he caresses their sharp and aching edges. It is with love that he smears red, red like thread, like ribbons, like promises and betrayal, like a destiny already written and still being traced.

His blood is red, red, red.

Destiny-red, Luck-red, Hope-red, Renewal-red, Fate-red, Love-red.

It is with love, for love, through love that he comes together whole again, piece by piece. He is nothing without love but love will never be reduced to nothing.

Love endures, persists, survives.

So it goes like this :

Jing Yuan is made of love. Jing Yuan endures, persists, survives despite everything, despite himself even. Jing Yuan comes together, piece by piece, with a lacquer that is but blood, that is but fluid and tenacious Love-red, until it holds, until it sticks, until it stays.

Jing Yuan gets up, his legs trembling and his back aching from being bent over for so long, and he moves forward, step by step. Behind him his chains rattle and sing and rustle, and they are not chains but threads and ribbons and red, red, red. They don't break, no, because that would be far too cruel, but they become gentler, tender, more bearable.

(They were threads and ribbons before becoming chains so a ribbon they become again. Jing Yuan smiles as he threads it through his hair, a simple memorabilia rather than a cruel reminder. An unsightly thing made beautiful again.)

Jing Yuan moves forward on a glittering path of dawn-colored promises, abandoning ruins left to decay under the watchful gaze of eternal night. The light at the end of the tunnel embraces him and welcomes his return with a warm and loving glow.

He lets the sunlight kiss the lacquered fissures of his broken being, until the blood-lacquer-love piecing him together turns to gold.

Jing Yuan is made of love and loss, but it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. And Jing Yuan loved and was loved, from the sweet beginnings to the bitter ending.

And Jing Yuan loves and will love again.

(Because he is nothing if not made of love.)

"You are nothing without them. Nothing."

.

There were five, and of all of them, Jing Yuan is the last. The last to remember, the last to fight, the last to—something. But he hasn't gotten here by himself. How does he explain that his existence is owed to the four of them?

He is nothing without them, when they are the ones who nourished him, loved him, cared for him, allowed him to walk forward alongside them.

("That's right.")

There is nothing left of him when he is made up of their love and their smiles, the way they impart the memories to him, how they mourned and adored and made the mistakes they've made, fallen particles of sand as they slip through his fingers.

("Keep going.")

He's left behind, like the fool he is.

Without them, he is nothing. Without them, he is just Jing Yuan. What is Jing Yuan, if there is no High Cloud Quintet?

("You are nothing, that's what.")

((A tear slips down his cheek. He takes no notice of it.))

Nothing but dust. Nothing but the last one standing. Nothing.

Just–

Nothing.

[legashe]

the theme of rey’s narrative in tfa is so starkly and clearly that of destiny that she is pulled into the story and the adventure and battle almost by force, and not ever by choice. in fact, she tries her best to be pulled away from it, repels it at every opportunity, and, still, destiny beckons & she goes. she is a character in a story, she gets up and says her lines and plays her part. and so the tale moves on and on again. 

[reyesstrand]

You know, I’m very excited about the obvious wedding and rings and planning BUT I’m also VERY VERY excited for the disgustingly cute dialogue and scenes of them telling each other how excited and ready to marry each other that is def coming

LITERALLY LIKE….them having to deal with getting through a heat wave and (another) unpredictable storm and the thought of their parents helping with wedding planning….but still finding the unimaginable joy in just waking up to one another. sure there’s tk’s alarm going off and the promise of another hectic week of contrasting shifts ahead, but they have these few moments to themselves: moments where they can run fingers through bedhead and press closed-mouth kisses to warm skin and come to the same realization that they get this, forever. carlos will lovingly jostle tk, pulling him closer. “six months today,” he’ll whisper, mostly into tk’s hair, and tk will bring carlos’ hand to his mouth, placing careful kisses to each of his knuckles, pausing on the fourth finger to imagine the feeling of a ring.

or tk coming home to carlos flipping through one of the wedding magazines someone dropped off to them and tk feeling the weight of the day easing from his shoulders as carlos calls out to him, asking about his shift, and, after getting a response, bringing the conversation to an article he saw about colour schemes, and another about the merits of paper versus digital save-the-dates. and tk wants nothing more than the day to be perfect but he’s always so worried about making the wrong choices, so he says, “you should ask my dad, i didn’t inherit his eye for design.” and he picks at a cuticle, and out of his peripheral watches carlos frown and put down the magazine and move over to where he’s leaning against the counter. he feels carlos cup his face and tk looks at him, gently reaching up to remove carlos’ glasses and carefully put them on the counter before curling his fingers in the back of carlos’ shirt. “babe,” carlos will start, moving his thumb back and forth along tk’s jaw. “i don’t care about any of that. i just care about marrying you.”

or there being a close call and they end up in the hospital again, ignoring the beeping of heart monitors and the careful observation of nurses, tk squeezing carlos’ hand and reminding him he has to wake up so they can get married. or they’re doing anything, really, and that feeling they experienced at three in the morning…it never fades. it just ebbs into something stronger, something resilient. they’ll go pick out their rings, or go to cake tastings, or bicker over something stupid due to stress, or cry through the list of rom-coms they’re determined to get through in anticipation of getting their own happy ending, and it always comes back to spending together forever and the excitement never goes away.

or carlos strolling into the firehouse after getting tk’s beckoning text, smiling at the sight of his fiancé and his team milling about the kitchen. carlos suddenly thinking back to sadie at the sight of their lunch and remembering her speech about his belief in destiny and realizing that, once his eyes fall to tk—who is already watching him—she read him like an open-book. the two of them standing with their shoulders pressed together, a quiet form of connection. they’ll eat and joke around with the team and eventually carlos will pull out his phone and send an exasperated glance at tk over yet another paragraph of a text added to his family’s groupchat: this one a piece of advice from his mother, who heard it from lucy, who heard it from a friend of a friend. tk reads over his shoulder and hums, and carlos will say something about tk choosing this, to which tk will squeeze carlos around the middle and tell him: “and i’d do it again, because it means i get to marry you.”

or the night before the wedding, the two of them giddy and unable to sleep, surprisingly not worried about a thing because their friends have promised it’ll be perfect and at this point they’d stroll into a courthouse to make it happen. “i love you,” they’ll promise, a vow of their own before they say the real ones in front of everyone they’ve come to consider family. “this time tomorrow, you’ll be my husband,” tk will say, a smile overtaking his whole face, and carlos will kiss him again and again.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Hero | Luke Patterson

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Song Fic February Week 4: Musicals 

Inspiration: StarStruck (DCOM)

Requested: Yes/No

A/N: Anon suggested doing something with the Starstruck soundtrack, so I’m writing a whole-ass series. This is based off the plot of Starstruck but the reader was a fan of JATP until she met Luke... Basically crush to enemies to lovers! Also a modern!au.

The third installment of the StarStruck series! 

StarStruck

Something About The Sunshine

Hero

What You Mean To Me

Pairing: Luke x Fem!reader

Song(s) used: Hero - Christopher Wilde (StarStruck ST)

Warnings: few swear words, mention of car accidents, mention of child abuse, mention of postnatal depression, tiny bit of angst

Words: 8.6K

I’m almost nervous to see him again. There’s a nervous flutter erupting from the pit of my stomach and I feel hot and sweaty when it’s not even that warm out. The boy didn’t have that effect on me just a day ago and now he suddenly does? I hate this. 

“Morning,” I greet when I find Luke standing outside the coffee shop with his hood pulled far over his head and sunglasses covering his beautiful eyes. He shoots me a smile, but I don’t think he actually looks at me. Right, the whole “I can’t be seen with you”-thing. 

“Want to go grab some coffee before we go?” I ask instead, pointing at the shop. 

Luke nods his head and follows me inside where we wait in line together. The silence that hangs over us is uncomfortable for the first time. I don’t know why but his mysterious, secretive antics are making me nervous. 

“Next!” the barista calls and the two of us step forward. The twenty-something woman shoots the both of us a polite smile, not even acknowledging that Luke’s keeping his head low. This is L.A., she’s probably used to it by now. “What can I get for ya?” 

“An iced vanilla latte for me, please,” I say and then glance down at Luke. 

He coughs. “Iced caramel macchiato.” His voice is low, just above a whisper, as though he’s telling the barista and me a secret. I’m glad we’re going to be out of the city soon, so Luke can go back to his regular self. Or to the singing-on-top-of-a-car-in-the-middle-of-nowhere self. 

“What’s your name, please?” 

“Y/N…” My eyes land on Luke for a split second, and I’m pretty sure he’s not even going to answer. Luke’s a pretty generic name, I’m sure people won’t even bother to look up. “Put my name on both, please.” 

The barista smiles and then dashes off after I paid to start making our coffees while we shuffle towards the end of the counter, ready to take our drinks when they’re ready. Luke keeps his head down. He doesn’t even look up at me and the awkward silence doesn’t eb away.  

“You’re not gonna talk to me yet, are you?” I ask him as I hand him one of the two straws I picked up. He shakes his head. I try my hardest not to groan and instead, hand him the keys to my car. “Here, get yourself settled in my car, I’ll handle this.” 

His eyes peer over the rim of his sunglasses, flickering with uncertainty and gratefulness at the same time. I shoot him a smile, urging him to get out of here, which he does with a quick flash of his teeth. 

The awkwardness quickly washes off me when he’s left the coffee shop and I’m all alone, hoping everything would change once we’re all alone, away from the prying eyes of Los Angeles’ residents. 

“Iced vanilla latte and iced caramel macchiato for y/n,” the barista calls and places the cups on the counter in front of me. 

I smile at her, say, “Thank you! Bye!” and then dart out of the coffee shop as fast as I could. I weave my way through hasty people and slacking tourists towards my Toyota Yaris where a hooded boy sits in my passenger seat. He still has his hood pulled up and his sunglasses balancing on the bridge of his nose. He almost looks sad, which makes me a little sad too. I wish I could do more than let him wait in my car. 

“Here you go,” I say and hand him his coffee when I’ve settled into my seat. 

“Thank you,” he mutters, and I’m pretty sure it’s not just for the beverage. 

A smile etches its way to my cheeks as I regard him. “You’re welcome,” I say and then start the engine. As I pull out of the parking lot, Luke finally sparks up a conversation. I’m almost relieved to hear his voice again for more than two words.    

“Where’re we going?” he asks. 

I debate telling him but then decide I’d do it anyway. I’ve been researching a lot last night and have found the greatest secluded spots and the time slots when they’re mostly deserted or have the least visitors. The one I wanted to take him to today was a lot closer than the other ones, so I figured we could start with that. 

“The Old L.A. Zoo. It’s less crowded before 9am, so I figured we could go explore it a bit until too many people arrive?” The statement comes out of my mouth as a question since I’m unsure whether or not he’d like that. 

“Cool,” he replies, and he sounds honest, too. “I don’t think I’ve ever been there.” 

It surprises me a little, but I go with it anyway. “Really? I’ve been there plenty of times! It’s really cool! Kinda spooky.” Luke lets out an airy laugh at that and it makes my heart flutter a little. 

Within ten minutes, we arrive at the old zoo. Ten minutes had gone by and yet it felt like a split second. The conversation ran fluently on our way there and Luke told me things about the band and his childhood that not even the biggest fangirl on earth could possibly know. I love talking to Luke about those seemingly uninteresting, small things. 

The rest of the morning, too, goes by as if there’s no concept of time whatsoever. The two of us walk through the old, abandoned zoo and explore every single old habitat. I even find a website that tells us the entire history of each section of the zoo and as I read it, Luke listens and adds in his own commentary. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this much in just a few  hours. This guy is genuinely funny and I just adore talking to him. Our conversations go from the ridiculous to the serious, and every subject in between. 

It’s just the perfect day that I wish would never end, but inevitably, Luke has his own responsibilities and has to go by lunch time. 

“Hey, why don’t you come with me to the studio?” he asks with a smile as we’re making our way back to the car. “I’m in there all by myself, aside from our producer, and I’m recording a few songs.” 

I open and close my mouth a few times, letting incomprehensible sounds roll out. It makes me look like a dumbfounded fish, I’m sure, but I don’t care. My brain is dysfunctioning for a moment. Luke Patterson is asking me to come to the studio with him. To watch him record some songs. Songs that are going to be on the album. 

Luke’s laugh makes the gears in my brain fall back into place. “Is that a yes?” he asks. 

A heat rises up to my cheeks. “Yeah,” I finally manage. 

“Cool,” he says and then gets into the car. 

The ride to the studio is filled with smooth conversation. We never miss a beat, there’s never an awkward silence between the two of us. Only when we arrive at the recording studio and we’re met with a huddle of paparazzi outside the door.

“Fuck,” he mutters and ducks down. I do the same, knowing he doesn’t want me to be seen with him either. “Drive around back,” he orders before fumbling into the glove compartment of my car. He retrieves a pair of sunglasses I kept there, along with a shawl of my mother’s that I didn’t know was still in there. “Put this on.” 

“No,” I reply sternly, pushing his hand with the shawl away. I do take the sunglasses from his hand though, and push them onto my nose. “Put that shawl away,” I bark. The boy obeys and stuffs the piece of cursed fabric back where it came from. 

Mental note: throw that out. 

When we finally do get into the recording studio, as soon as I’m on Luke’s side, he grabs my hand and drags me into the building before anyone could ever spot us. I nearly stumble on my own feet, but quickly pick myself back up before I faceplant the floor. 

Luke huffs. “Phew, that was close.” 

He looks at me, and for a second, I think he might bring up the shawl again, but he doesn’t and instead turns to his producer, who had gotten up from his swivel chair the second we burst in.  

“Connor!” Luke greets excitedly and shakes the man’s hand. 

He looks near his thirties, strong built with flawless dark skin and a full head of afro hair. Combined with his extremely savvy outfit, I find him really cool-looking. He’s the kind of guy that would get all the girls in high school while still being a sweetheart. 

“You brought some new flesh, I see,” Connor says to me and outstretches his hand for me to shake. I do so with a wide smile on my face while pretending not to be completely nervous about being in a recording studio for the first time. 

“Y/N,” I introduce myself. 

“Welcome to our little slice of heaven on earth, y/n.” My eyes flick to Luke, who’s giving me that look again, so I quickly turn back to Connor. “Any knowledge of recording studios, y/n?” he asks. 

“Never been in one, but my friend is a producer and he did teach me some things.” 

I hear Luke huff beside me. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know.” I shoot him a wink as Connor beckons me towards his deck. For a while, Connor guides me through his paces while Luke gives the best of himself on this song. 

After a few takes, Luke comes out of the booth and joins me and Connor to listen to what we’d recorded thus far. “What if –” I pause, debating my thoughts. “What if we go in with some soft backing vocals on here?” I click the part of the chorus we’d recorded and sing along with recorded Luke. 

“'Cause I I can be everything you need If you're the one for me Like gravity I'll be unstoppable I, yeah, I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy With heart and soul But if your the one for me Then I'll be your hero”

“I think if you put Julie on those backings, it could give that duet-vibe you guys are so good at.” I notice Connor and Luke glance at each other, soft smiles playing on both their lips. 

“Why don’t you show us?” Connor asks as Luke already grabs my hand. 

“What?! Me? No! Julie.” 

Luke chuckles and drags me into the booth with him. “Yeah, but we’re gonna need a demo, don’t we?” He delicately places a set of headphones on my head before placing one on his own. He signals to Connor and no later than 2 seconds, the instrumental version of the song blasts through the headphones. 

Gazing at me, Luke starts singing the first verse of the song, and I let him. It almost feels like he’s serenading me. Almost. All that’s missing is a guitar or a boombox over his head. 

“I'm no superman I can't take your hand And fly you anywhere you want to go Yeah I can't read your mind Like a billboard sign And tell you everything you want to hear But I'll be your hero”

From the chorus onwards, I jump in with backing vocals wherever I feel like it’s acceptable without taking my eyes off of Luke. 

“I I can be everything you need If you're the one for me Like gravity I'll be unstoppable I, yeah, I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy With heart and soul But if you're the one for me Then I'll be your hero”

“Could you be the one Could you be the one for me” “Oh I'll be your hero” “Could you be the one Could you be the one for me” “Yeah I'll be your hero”

“So incredible Some kind of miracle That's what it's meant to be I'll become a hero So I wait, wait, wait, wait for you”

We keep our eyes locked at the high note too, smiles plastered on our faces from ear to ear. Singing with Luke gives me some kinda rush. A feeling I can’t quite describe but it’s a feeling I want to feel more often. 

“Yeah, I'll be your hero Yeah”

“Cause I I can be everything you need If you're the one for me Like gravity I'll be unstoppable I, Yeah, I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy with and soul But if you're the one for me I'll be your hero”

“Yeah, I'll be your hero”

“Could you be the one Could you be the one for me”

“Yeah I'll be your hero”

The music fades out in our headphones, and soon, Connor’s applause sounds through it instead. I’m snapped back into reality, away from cloud 9, away from the pure bliss that’s singing with Luke and gazing into his eyes. 

“That was amazing! Good job, guys!” Connor says, beaming. 

Luke and I remove our headphones and he grabs my hand to lead me back to the decks where Connor welcomes us with open arms and a wide smile. 

“I thought you and Julie were the most watchable duetters, but I’ve been proven wrong.” 

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks before Luke snaps me out of it again. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Con. Can you send the finished product to the band and our manager? I’m sure they’d like to hear this. Don’t tell them who’s on backing vocals, though. They don’t need to know that.”

I swallow a lump in my throat and try to convince myself it’s probably not that deep. Luke doesn’t want to be seen with me. Not even by his band mates. It’s fine. It’s totally fine. 

We wrap up the recording session and I drive Luke back to the coffee shop where he looks behind him and out of every single one of the windows, just to be sure the coast is clear of paparazzi. 

“Thanks for the day, y/n. I really enjoyed spending time with you again.” 

I force a smile. Ever since his statement to Connor about not wanting the band to know about me, I’ve been going over everything in my mind and it has caused me to fold in on myself.

“Yeah, it was fun.” 

He gazes at me for a moment, inspecting every inch of my face as if detecting the lie from my eyes. When I think he’s just going to bid his goodbyes and get out, he doesn’t. Instead, he turns his body to me and reaches for his phone. I watch as he unlocks it and taps away on it before turning the device towards me. There’s a new contact form open on his screen. 

“Gimme your number. I’d love to do this again some day.” 

I furrow my brow while taking the phone in my hands. “Do you even have time to spend days with a nobody like me?” I don’t dare look at him and keep my eyes on the screen as I type my name and number. 

He doesn’t say anything either until I finally cave and look up when giving his phone back. There’s a crease in his forehead as his eyebrows are knitted together in confusion. 

“You’re not a nobody, y/n. I’d gladly make time for you. I told you, I loved spending days away from reality. Especially with you.” Fangirl Me is jumping out of my skin while Present Me tries to keep her cool and ignore all of the butterflies that erupt in her stomach. 

“Cool,” Present Me says out loud while Fangirl Me is scolding her so hard. 

Cool? Cool?! Seriously? Dude.   

“I’ll text you, yeah?” 

I nod my head in response and watch as he gets out of my car. Before I can even place my foot on the gas or shift out of park, my phone beeps in the pocket of my sweater. For the first time in forever, I smile when seeing an unknown number on my screen. 

As I look out of my window, I find Luke looking at me with his hood pulled over his head again. He shoots me a quick smile and a wave before I turn to my phone again and type a reply. 

I whip my head up to see his reaction. His jaw drops before his face turns into a scowl as he glares at me. Giggling and satisfied with the reaction, I place my phone on the passenger’s seat where Luke was sitting before and then pull out of the parking spot. 

That night, I save Luke’s number to my phone. I go between “Luke P.”, “Patterson” and “Luke ❤️” but eventually decide on the funnier option and save him as “Poo Musician 💩”.   

I stand in line at the coffee shop before 8:30 that morning and I’m a little nervous. Last night when I returned from my day with Luke, the two of us had been texting back and forth. I felt like a sixteen year old again. One of those giggly teenagers that’s texting their crush. Which is what I was, but it’s been a while since I felt like it. 

Once I have an iced vanilla latte and an iced caramel macchiato, I head outside where I find a boy waiting by my car. He’s wearing a sleeveless shirt paired with a bright blue sleeveless sweater, his hood pulled far over his head so his face is hidden from prying eyes. 

I don’t need to see his face to know it’s Luke. I’d recognize those muscles from a mile away. The way he’s leaning against the hood of my car and the way he’s holding his phone is a dead giveaway too. 

“Your coffee, sir,” I say in a serious, deep voice. 

Luke’s head snaps up, eyes wide. He looks like a deer caught in headlights until he notices it’s just me and relaxes. A smile etches onto his face as he tucks his phone into the pocket of his jeans whilst taking the coffee I ordered for him with his other hand. 

He takes a cautious sip from the beverage. “Hm, Caramel Macchiato, someone’s been stalking me.” I know he’s just teasing, I can tell by the way one corner of his mouth curls up and his eyes have that childlike glint in them. 

Making my way to the driver’s side of my car, I smile and say, “Contrary to popular belief, Patterson, I’m not a stalker. I just remembered your order from yesterday.” 

Luke’s smile tells me something I’d rather not think about. It’s like he’s saying “You remembered my order” in that flirty way only he knows how to. I simply shrug before opening my door and getting in with Luke following my example. Without missing a beat, he fishes my phone from between my fingers and grabs my free hand to use my thumb to unlock my phone. This time, I don’t object and let him. I know that it’s just to get to my music app anyway. 

While Journey’s Anyway You Want It plays through the car’s speakers, I pull out of the parking spot in front of the coffee shop and start driving to the next location I’d found during my research the other night. 

“Where’re we going?” he asks, and I flashback to yesterday when he asked me the exact same question in that exact same way. 

I smile as I place my cup in the cupholder between the two of us. “You’ll see.” I glance over, finding him tilting his head slightly and giving me that ‘Really?’ look. “I promise it’s very secluded and not a lot of people will be there.” 

“Cool,” he says and sips. “Is this where you’re going to kidnap me and hold me for ransom? I bet you could get a lot of money for a Julie and The Phantoms band member.” 

I snort at his remark. “How much do you think I could get for you?” 

He scrunches up his nose in thought, which I catch as I take a quick glance at him again. As I face the road again, I reach for my coffee and take a quick sip, awaiting Luke’s response to my question. 

“Like 10k?” 

I nearly spit out my coffee. “10k?!” I screech, and his laugh thunders through my car. “Careful or I’ll actually kidnap you and hold you for ransom if I’m gonna earn that much.” 

The laughter dies down and after a few moments of silence lingering in the air, Luke says, “How much do you think I’m worth?” 

Without missing a beat, I respond to his question, dead serious. “Not even a dollar.”  

Luke gasps, his mouth dropping in absolute disbelief while I can’t help but cackle loudly. Judging from this conversation alone, I’m positive today will be a good day. A good, fun day. 

“I’m worth more than a dollar, right?” 

“No, you’re right, I’d probably ask like a million and then no one will pay the ransom and you’ll have to stay with me for the rest of your life.” 

I let out my best maniacal laughter as I feel him watch me. I know the exact look he’s giving me. The look. The one with the glistening eyes and the slightly turned up lips. The one all girls and gays swoon for. The one I would swoon for if I’d turn my head right now. But I don’t. For once in my life, I’m smart and keep my eyes on the road. 

“You like me,” he states proudly. 

“Slightly less strong dislike.” I’m lying through my teeth, but I’m hoping Luke won’t notice. Or at least not acknowledge it because I can already feel the heat rising to my cheeks. 

“I’ll take it.” 

He reaches forward and turns the volume up as Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space” floats through the speakers. Very loudly, and very obnoxiously, the boy begins to sing along. If it wasn’t for the velvet smooth voice, I would’ve scolded at him to keep it down. But the sound actually makes my toes curl and my stomach flutter. For a verse, I let him sing by himself while I enjoy his performance but by the chorus, I can’t withhold myself and sing along with him. 

The rest of the ride is filled with belting of the road trip tunes, laced with patches of small talk. It’s the perfect car ride, and before we know it, we’ve arrived at our destination. Santa Fe Dam Recreation Area. The parking lot is practically empty, aside from two cars, which I’m assuming are the staff’s. It’s the perfect indication that I picked the right spot to go to, and I can tell Luke knows it too. 

He’s bouncing in his seat, either from excitement or the amount of sugar that was in his iced coffee, and when I turn off the ignition and turn to him, he looks at me with the widest smile plastered on his face. He almost looks like an excited toddler on Christmas morning, ready to open his presents. 

“I came here once with my parents when I was younger,” he tells me, “I love this place.” 

His confession makes me smile. “Good because I’ve been scouring the internet for the perfect place.” He shoots me the look again. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re going to kiss me.” 

He shrugs, “Maybe I want to.” 

“So you want me to slap you?” 

His smile fades away immediately. “Let’s go,” he grumbles and quickly gets out. 

I heave in a deep breath, recollecting myself before getting out too and retrieving the backpack I brought, filled with stuff for today. Including my itinerary – or just a notebook filled with some ideas I had. 

“How about we start with a bike ride across the park?” I suggest, pointing at the bike rental shop I found on Google the other night. 

We walk into the rental place, expecting there to be bikes upon bikes but instead, we’re met with kayaks, pedal boats and go-karts. My eyebrows furrow, creasing my forehead as I look around the space. Why’s this called a bike rental when there are technically no bikes to rent? No actual bikes. 

“I thought we were going for a bike ride?” Luke says, teasingly. I look up at him, and I think my face tells him enough about my knowledge about this place. My research clearly wasn’t sufficient. 

Deciding to just roll with the circumstances, I roll my shoulders back and put a smile on my face. “Yeah, we’re going on a bike ride with one of these!” I say and point to the large, green go-kart. One of those that look like an old-school car at the front and have children’s seats in front of the terribly cushioned seats for adults. The ones with the small plastic wheel and bike pedals for two adults. I remember going on one of those big ones for six people with my family. 

“You’re serious?” Luke asks, his eyes wide. 

Instead of answering, I shoot him a smile before stepping forwards towards the staff member at the counter. The woman behind the counter looks no older than 45 and has long, billowing blonde locks that cascade down her shoulders. Her bright blue piercing eyes glisten as they land on the two of us, clearly glad she sees some customers so early in the day. 

“Good morning,” she greets with a smile, “We open in half an hour.” 

“Oh…” My research has been poor. 

Before I can possibly think of an answer, Luke steps forward and flashes the woman a smile. I’m not sure if he’s going to use his manly charms or if he’s going to pull the “Don’t you know who I am?” card. 

“Can’t you… make an exception for us?” he asks, leaning his elbow on the counter as he looks at the woman through his lashes. The woman looks up at Luke, her face like stone. She doesn’t recognize him and doesn’t fall for his charms either. 

Shaking my head, I spring into action. I quickly change the ring on my index finger to my ring finger and wrap my arm around Luke’s bicep while the other rests on his chest, making sure the ring is as visible as can be. As I flutter my eyelashes at the woman, I let the words tumble out of my mouth. 

“Please, ma’am? It’s our one year engagement anniversary and he was going to take me on this romantic bike ride….” I then lean forward over the counter. “He’s not very good at researching our dates, but he tries.” 

The woman’s eyebrows knit together as her eyes dart from me to Luke and back. 

“Aren’t you guys a little young to be engaged?” 

Luke jumps into the improvisation spot. “We’ve been told that a lot but we’ve been best friends for years and there’s no one I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.” He looks down at me and when I glance up, too, he kisses the tip of my nose, which I then scrunch. 

I ignore the flutters in my stomach and face the woman again. She seems to have softened, her eyes less icy than it was before. Then, she turns to her computer and clicks through a few browsers before facing us again. 

“What do you guys want? The Surrey?” She points to the green bike-thing at the front of the shop. I nod my head in response. “Okay. You’ve got it for two hours for the price of one hour.” 

A smile etches its way to my face. “That’s perfect, thank you.” 

 Luke pays the woman the rental fee and then she helps us get Surrey out of the garage. After bidding our goodbyes, Luke and I pedal off on the bike. 

“One year engagement, really?” Luke asks me when we’re far enough from the rental and I switch my rings back around. 

“Well, whatever you were doing didn’t work.” 

 He scoffs. “It was working.” 

We pedal down the winding road with the wind blowing through our hair. I love how warm the breeze is and how the birds are chirping in the trees around us. This is the perfect day to go out and do this. 

“What exactly were you planning to do?” I ask him, glancing up at him. He’s focusing on the road ahead of us, a comfortable smile resting on his lips while his eyes flick from one side to another, taking everything in. 

He glances down at me, the smile turning into a smirk. “I was going to charm her with my manly wiles.” 

“And how was that working for ya?” 

For a second, we lock eyes. Luke has an annoyed look on his face while I can’t help but have my lips curl up on one side into a smirk. When he whips his head forward again, I notice the slight tint of pink covering his cheeks. 

Did I just make Luke Patterson blush? 

“So,” he coughs. “Whatcha wanna do?”

I shrug. “We could play twenty questions? Get to know each other better.” 

He nods his head in response. “You wanna start?” 

“That’s your first question?” 

“That’s yours?” 

I press my lips together, shutting myself up for just a moment before recomposing myself. I’m not going to lie, I totally Googled some questions to ask in a game of 20 questions. So, I’m prepared. 

“If you had to be trapped on a deserted island with one of your friends, who would you pick and why?” Luke’s eyes widen at the question a little. 

“Woah, straight in! I thought you were gonna start with ‘favorite color’ or something.” He chuckles lightly, and so do I. “Uhm… Not Alex, he’d probably be super anxious and pace all the way across the island and make me nervous. Not Reggie either, he’d be singing country songs the entire time, though he is a great cuddler. Maybe Julie? Though she’s gonna be miserable without Flynn….” 

With every thought he says out loud, my smile grows bigger and bigger. 

“You?” My heart leaps in my chest at his answer. “Yeah, I like spending time with you and what better place to get away from real life than a deserted island, right?” 

Without missing a beat, the next words pour out of my mouth. “It’s cute how you think we’re friends now.” I surprise myself with the words I speak. We are friends, but I like winding him up into thinking we’re not. 

“Friends who wanna kiss each other.” 

Ignoring the heat rising to my cheeks, I reply, “You mean kill?” 

Luke shakes his head, an amused smile on his face. “When are you going to admit that you like me?” 

“Never – Next question.” 

“Uhm… What was the last thing you stole or shoplifted?” he asks and I’m glad he doesn’t push any further on the fact I basically admitted that I like him. 

“Oh! A magnet in a tourist shop in Lanzarote,” I reply, giggling a little at the memory. “I was there with a couple of friends during Spring Break and those magnets cost way too much for what they are and there was like a rack outside the shop. So, I shoplifted an overpriced Lanzarote magnet.” 

Luke throws his head back as he laughs, nearly steering us into the bushes. “That’s amazing,” he cackles.  

We cruise through the entire park for two entire hours, asking each other questions, and after returning the Surrey, we walk towards the lake where we settle down onto the blanket I brought for some food. I’d prepared an entire picnic basket for us to enjoy during our lunch. 

“I find it very cute that you made an entire picnic basket for our first date.” 

I smile. “I find it very cute that you think this is a date.” 

He gives me the look again, but I ignore it and get every piece of food out of my backpack, sprawling it out around us. Sandwiches, chopped up vegetables and fruits, muffins,... All the delicious foods you’d find in a picnic. 

“Tell me more about your childhood,” Luke then says as he takes a chicken sandwich and takes a bite. “You don’t talk about it much.” 

My heart drops into my stomach. I wish he wouldn’t ask about that. Talking about my childhood means talking about my mother and I’ve been trying to avoid that for the past years. Not that many of my friends even know about that. 

“I told you plenty.” 

“You talked about your teenage years, but never about your childhood.” 

I take a deep breath. He’s not going to shut up about this until I tell him. It’s not that I don’t trust him, it’s just that I don’t love talking about what happened with my mother. It’s something I’d much rather forget. 

“There’s a reason for that,” I reply pointedly and then shut myself up by taking a sip from the box of orange juice. I’d packed one for the both of us, but I’m the only one who’s opened it already as Luke had gone straight in with the sandwiches. 

Luke stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. His eyes pierce through my soul and give me a sense of comfort. They lift a weight of my shoulders and chest that I hadn’t even noticed were there. His eyes feel like coming home. Comfortable. A place to relax. A place to be me, be myself. 

I heave in a deep breath and place my juice box on my nervously bouncing knee, holding it with my hand. It doesn’t stop the bouncing, so now my whole body is practically shaking along with the movement. 

“I–” I stop myself, reconsidering my words. “My childhood wasn’t the sunshine and roses it’s supposed to be.” I chuckle nervously and when I meet Luke’s eyes again, they’re looking at me with such intent that I almost launch forward and kiss him. But I don’t. 

“Mom was… difficult to live with…” I start cautiously,  not even daring to look at Luke as I speak and keep my eyes on the still lake in front of us. “She uhm… After I was born, she kinda went into postnatal depression. She didn’t take care of me, she barely even looked at me… At one point, it went so far that she got into an accident, on purpose, with me in the back. She did it a few times, even, to the point where dad just had to report it. She was admitted to the psych ward and that was that... I was ten at the time.” I swallow to hold back the tears that are pricking behind my eyes. 

Feeling a soft brush of the hand on my knee, I glance up, meeting Luke’s eyes. They give me that sense of comfort again, that sense of home, the reassurance that I’m okay. 

“We haven’t really seen her since. She’s out of our lives…” I sniffle and place my hand over Luke’s, giving it a thankful squeeze. “I don’t like talking about it.” 

Luke carefully laces his fingers through mine, his cold rings cooling my warm hand. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” I shrug dismissively. “But thank you for telling me.” 

“So, tell me,” I lift our entwined hands for a second as though pulling us back into reality. “How did Sunset Curve-slash-Julie and The Phantoms came to be?” 

Luke chuckles before engulfing our locked hands with his other and tumbling into the origin story of the bands he was in. He talks about meeting Reggie and Alex in primary school, and then meeting Bobby in middle school. He explains how they started the band in music class and then continued playing together until Bobby moved away from Los Angeles. The story then lapses into giggles and chuckles about all the things they tried to keep Sunset Curve alive, but terribly failed. 

“But then we met Julie in high school and – the rest is history.” 

We’re clearing up our mess before making our way back towards the car. I love hearing Luke talk, especially about the band. It makes his eyes light up and he gets all bouncy and enthusiastic. It’s the cutest side of Luke I ever did see in the past few days of hanging out with  him.

I take one last look at the lake where tiny dots of humans are floating along on the lake in their tiny boats. There are just a few, so nothing to worry about, but it does make me want to go kayaking too. Mostly because I don’t want the day to end. 

“Wanna go kayaking?” I ask Luke, pulling him to a halt by tugging at our still intertwined hands. His eyes dart from mine to the lake and back. I can tell he’s debating it, but then he nods and a smile appears on his face. 

With our hands intertwined, we go back to the rental place and ask the woman for a double kayak. We pay, put on the safety vests she’s given us and then proceed onto the water. As we pedal along, Luke tells me about all the adventures he’s been on with his friends and how he used to do this all the time before his schedule got so crazy. 

Every now and again, he stops and pretends to tip the kayak, making me squeal each and every time whilst he laughs his most maniacal laugh. 

The wall I’d built around my heart was slowly crumbling. Every laugh, every touch, every glance took away a small part of the brick wall. I’m falling in love with the boy I’d had a crush on and then strongly disliked for a good five-ish days. 

Getting distracted was not a good idea as I’m not prepared for what follows next. Luke pretends to tip it over again, but this time, he wobbles too hard and actually makes the boat topple overhead. I squeal, but quickly shut my mouth as I tumble into the water, making sure not too much of the lake’s contents gets into my body. 

“Patterson!” I scowl as I crash the surface again and find Luke laughing a few feet away. His brown, shaggy hair sticks to his head, dripping small drops of water onto his face. If I wasn’t so angry at him, I would definitely kiss him right here, right now. 

“I hate you!” I splash some water at him as the words roll off my lips. Luke’s laughter abruptly stops and he stares at me. His once glistening eyes dull down while his mouth falters into a frown. 

“You do?” 

My face softens as I watch him. He looks so beautiful with his hair all dishevelled and the reflection of the sun on the water mirroring onto his face. I want to kiss him. I want to kiss him so bad. 

I swim closer towards him and stroke his wet hair out of his face. My breath hitches in my throat at how close we are but I try to play it off by keeping my hands on his face and my eyes locked with his. I notice his eyes flicking down to my lips a few times, telling me he wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss him. 

Should I? Full throttle? Or step on the brakes? 

I don’t even get the time to think about it as Luke presses his lips to mine. Now I don’t hesitate a single moment and immediately kiss him back. Sliding my hands into his wet locks and pressing my body as close as I can, I melt entirely into him. The same sense of bliss I have when singing with Luke washes over me and I find myself on cloud 9 again.  

We pull back after a moment to catch our breath. The glint in his eyes is back and his mouth, though a little swollen and red, curls up into a smile. He presses one more kiss to my nose before helping me towards the shore. We climb out of the water and bring the boat back to the rental place, along with our safety vests. 

Grabbing my backpack I had left with the woman for safekeeping, Luke and I bid our goodbyes and leave the rental, intertwining our hands again. The feeling his hand in mine gives me will never get old. 

As we get to the car again, I yawn, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over me. Luke smiles upon noticing this and takes the keys from my hand. Wordlessly, he presses a kiss to my forehead and then leads me to the passenger side. He opens the door and lets me get in before shutting the door and jogging to the other side. 

The car is filled with a comfortable silence, just the crackling of a song playing on the radio filling out the quietness. I rest my head against the headrest and glance at Luke every now and again as he drives Sabrina. He has that one-hand feel on the steering wheel and the other rest comfortably in mine on the gearshift. 

“I had a lot of fun today,” I mumble, unable to speak any louder. 

A smile etches its way to Luke’s face. “Me too.” He takes a quick glance at me and then lifts our hands to plant a kiss on my knuckles. “Our band’s house is closer, you want to stop there and get us dry before you go home?” 

I hum softly, letting my eyes fall shut for a moment. Luke’s thumb grazing the back of my hand almost lulls me to sleep until he curses before the car comes to a halt. He pulls his hand away from mine and when I look up, the driveway and street in front of the enormous white-brick house is filled with dozens of cars. 

“Fuck, I forgot about the album wrap party,” he grumbles and then looks over at me. I’m shivering from the cold and exhaustion. “I can’t let you drive home like that.” 

I’m unsure if he’s talking to me or pondering out loud, but I shake my head instead. “It’s fine,” I say. “My house isn’t that far away… I think…” 

“No, y/n. I’m not letting you drive home exhausted and cold.” His voice is stern, yet laced with a bit of worry. “You’re gonna come in and I’m– I’m gonna bring you up to my room. You can dry off there and maybe take a nap or something. Yeah! Yeah, that’s it!” He sounds way too excited about something so banal. 

He hops out of the car and quickly jogs over to my side whilst I’m already opening the door. Before I could react, he tugs me towards the house. I can barely get my bearings or take the time to look where I’m going before I’m pulled into a room. 

“There are shirts and joggers in the dresser over there, pick out whichever you like and then take a nap or something. I’ll be back before you know it.” He kisses my cheek and then dashes towards the door. 

“You’re just gonna leave me here?” 

He lets go of the door handle and slowly turns towards me. His eyes are laced with regret as he takes in the sight in front of him. I must look ridiculous with my hair and clothes wet and bags under my eyes. 

“Please, y/n? I can’t have people know about us, okay? I just – can’t…” 

Turning on his heel, he opens the door and leaves me in his bedroom all alone. I take a minute to let the information process in my brain before turning around and taking in the room I’m in. 

The walls are painted white, except for the one wall behind his bed that’s a muted dark blue. His bed is king size and on either side is a nightstand. I inch closer to the one that’s actually filled with stuff, which I’m assuming is the one he uses most. Nightstand contents often tell a lot about a person. His contains the band’s autobiography, “Bruce Springsteen: All The Songs” and “Beach Read” by Emily Henry, the book I started the other week and shared on Instagram Stories. 

Would he have seen that and decided to read it too? 

Shaking the ridiculous thought out of my head, I move over to his dresser and take out a pair of joggers and his Rush muscle tank I’ve seen him in many a time during gigs. I peel my drenched clothes off my body and get into Luke’s freshly washed ones. They smell of his laundry products. It’s a fresh and calming scent.

For a while, I look around his room. The books on the shelves and the pictures on the walls, most of which of the band and some of him and Carrie Wilson. There had been a rumor about him dating the Instagram Influencer, but I’d never believed it until I saw her face pop up in some of the framed photos in his room. 

I decide to go and venture about the house since all the commotion seems to be outside in the garden. I weave through hallway upon hallway, finding more photos and more things that belong to the band. The living room walls are adorned with platinum records and other awards they’d won over the two years they’d been active in the music industry. I can’t help but feel a sense of pride rush over me. That’s my favorite band right there. That’s the boy I’ve fallen in love with. 

“Excuse me – Who are you?” 

The voice makes me jump out of my skin. I thought everyone was outside. When I look up, I find the perfectly flawless face of Carrie Wilson. Her long, blonde hair cascades into curls down her shoulders and back while her round, brown eyes stare at me with intent and curiosity. 

“Oh, sorry. I’m y/n. I–” I stop myself, remembering Luke didn’t want anyone to know about us. That includes his girlfriend – or ex-girlfriend. 

Carrie’s mouth curls up into an amused, curious smile, catching onto what’s happening. “You’re Luke’s new adventure, aren’t you?” I huff out the breath I was holding. It’s a telling huff, I’m sure. “You are…” She trails off and inspects me for a second before continuing. “Just so you know, it’s not going to work. Luke’s too infatuated with this lifestyle of his. He loves his job, he loves his stardom. He loves it too much to ever focus on a partner. Believe me, we tried.” 

I exhale at the use of her past tense, but then all the other information downs on me. Luke’s life is so much different from mine. While I work several jobs to pay for college and still live with my dad, he lives by himself and tours the world. He’s too busy to start anything serious with me. Whatever happened in the last few days was just temporary. 

“You seem sweet, y/n, so I’m going to be frank. Get out before it’s too late. You’re only gonna get hurt if you’re gonna stay.” As she passes me, she places a reassuring hand on my shoulder.  

If my brain wasn’t going a mile a second about everything she’s telling me, I would be caught off guard by how sweet Carrie Wilson is. She’s always portrayed as this complete ego-centric bitch who used people to her advantage. 

The exhaustion taking over, I shuffle back upstairs and sit down on Luke’s bed but when I hear the commotion outside die down and guitar strums float through the air into the house, I grow curious. I get up from the bed and make a beeline towards the ceiling-to-floor glass doors that give out onto a balcony. I carefully open the door and step out, the summer breeze tickling my skin while Luke’s voice reaches my ears. 

The balcony looks out onto the garden, it’s just out of sight from where everyone’s huddled up around the band. I lean my elbows on the bannister and watch on as Luke’s voice floated through the air. 

“I'm no superman I can take your hand And fly you anywhere you wanna go, yeah I can read your mind Like a billboard sign And tell you everything you wanna hear, but I'll be your hero”

I smile at the memory of us in the studio yesterday. The last few days have been perfect. Just… Perfect. And now this girl has to come and ruin it by pulling me back into reality. 

“Cause I, I can be everything you need If you're the one for me, like gravity, I'll be unstoppable I, yeah I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy without his soul But if you're the one for me Then I'll be a hero Oh, I'll be a hero, yeah I'll be a hero”

It’s not that Carrie isn’t right. She is. Luke is way too busy with the band and his fame and everything around it. He doesn’t have time or room between those things for me. Not for an ordinary girl. Not for anyone. 

“So incredible Some kinda miracle That when it's meant to be, I'll become a hero, oh So I'll wait, wait, wait, wait for you”

Luke’s eyes meet mine as he hits that high note and his mouth curls up into that beautiful smile I’ve come to love. Once again, I’ve fallen in love with someone who would never reciprocate those feelings. If I don’t get out now, I’m going to get hurt. 

“Yeah I'll be a hero Cause I, I can be everything you need If you're the one for me, like gravity, I'll be unstoppable I, yeah I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy without his soul But if you're the one for me I'll be a hero Yeah, yeah I'll be a hero, yeah I'll be a hero Hero”

As the last notes of his song ring out into the night, I grab my still wet clothes and my keys Luke left on the dresser, and then leave the house. My heart breaks with every step I take, but I know it’s what’s best for me. It’s what’s best for both of us. There’s no room for me in his life. Like he said, he’s no superman, he can’t handle this many things at once. Not even a hero would be able to.  

Everything taglist:

@wanniiieeee @phantompogues 

JATP taglist:

@hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @charliesmountains @thedarkqueenofavalon @calamitykaty @caitsymichelle13 @wiselight @kcd15 @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti @stellasmusa @n0wornever @kaitieskidmore1 @tefilovesreading @pxperphxntom @crybabyddl @crybabyddl @headheartbellarke @authentic-gillespie @happinessinthedarkesttimes @bright-molina @rangerelik @cordeliascrown @willex-owns-my-heart @fangirlangioma @frickin-bats @flower-name @jaskiers-sweetkiss @jandthephantoms @kelpwithawhy  @the-hufflepuff-hunter @lookingthroughmirrors @buckybarnesishot310 @echocharm17618 @littlemissaddict @mystic-writings @joynerxmercer @brooke0297 @magicalxdaydream @musicianspiritsblog @bexxy @ruvaitkevicius @whitetigerlover17 @stressyanddepressysimp  @talk-on-the-street @theolivekiddo @sunsetcurvej @teti-menchon0604 @candycornmgg @gray_jato

Charlie/Luke taglist: 

@lukeys-giggle​ @gingerxarmy​ @lovesanimals​ @lolychu​ @perfectlywrongformend3s​ @luckylouiebug @camiladelrio98​ @myfriendscallmebeans​ @rachmmb​ @whitemanshoe19​ @killerqueenfan​ 

TAGLIST |  MASTERLIST 

[jimlingss]

Moirai [Finale]

Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 [Finale]

➜ Words: 8.6k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

You don’t know why you were so afraid of dying.   It happened once before. You didn’t even have time to prepare yourself.   Maybe you were so petrified because you were left feeling an empty void inside of yourself last time. You never got the chance to fulfill your dreams, enjoy the fruits of your labour, never got to reach the happiness you wanted. You were filled with numerous regrets. Not for the things you did. But for the things you didn’t do.   But strangely enough, for the second time, you don’t feel such sadness.   Perhaps because your death this time has purpose. Perhaps because you know it wasn’t wasted. Taehyung gets to live, he’s safe and that in itself is worth sacrificing for. You wonder if this is what love feels like.   For being so afraid of dying in this lifetime, there was not an inch of hesitation when you risked it again.   “Anastasia.”   But you aren’t dead. Just on your deathbed.   You can hear Lucy sobbing beside you. She’s noisy, practically giving you a headache, but truthfully, your heart aches to hear her. Until the very end, she proves to be one of the most sincere people in all of Ashea.   “Please...please, wake up.”   It’s hard to open your eyes. Your left shoulder aches terribly and you feel feverish but chilly at the same time. Even with the heaviest blanket overtop of you, you can’t help shivering. You wonder if your wound was infected. If you caught something else. If you’ll make a recovery.   It’s hard to lay and rest peacefully when you know someone’s made an assassination attempt on Taehyung. It might happen again. It might happen when you’re laying here. But even so, perhaps your connection to Taehyung will save him. This darkness inside of you just might consume his injuries and hand it to you instead. If so, you’ll readily lend your life to him again.    It’s your destiny as his protector. You don’t mind.   “Lucy...you should rest.”   You can vaguely hear Jungkook’s voice and you force your eyes to open a sliver. Their figures are blurry.   “No. I want to stay here a little longer.” Her voice is firm, no longer as timid as it used to be.   But Jungkook still coaxes her otherwise. “You haven’t slept and the Duke and Duchess have come. They’re waiting outside. We can watch over her.”   You watch as their forms fade away, Jungkook guiding the girl out. Soon, your mother and father are entering the room, steps slow, their voices kept quiet. Your vision starts to sharpen and the bed dips as your mother sits next to you, her expression impassive while she takes your hand.   She realizes you’re awake when your fingers twitch and her head whips over to you. “Anastasia. Anastasia,” she calls again and lowers herself to whisper, “You can make it through this.”   Your eyes manage to open and your cracked lips move— “I’m sorry.”   Her blank visage is ruined by the slight furrow of her brows. “What for?”   “I can’t be the crown princess.” The words are mumbled out of you, barely steady on a single breath.   “You still can.”   “No.” You weakly shake your head. “Even if I live, I...can’t.”   “I’m...sorr...y.” The sincere apology utters off from your lips — they’re your dying words.   You’ve never apologized to them in your life. You never felt the need to apologize to anyone aside from Taehyung. But marrying Jungkook, keeping the family safe, it’s all they ever wanted from you. Yet, you can’t fulfill their only wish.   “Anastasia.” There’s a rough tug at your arm and you wince. Your mother’s eyes are wide, mouth lopsided, she looks...frantic. It’s the first time her impassivity has been spoiled. “Get up. Get yourself back together. It would be worthless if you die here. Everything you’ve worked so hard for will go to waste. I’ll be angry if you keep talking about giving up. Get up right now!”   She doesn’t accept the apology. She doesn’t acknowledge it.   “Elanor.” Your father grabs your mother’s shoulders, pulling her away from trying to tug you upright. “Elanor! Stop it. Calm down.”   “She was sick so many times before as a child and she still lived! She’ll live here too, Herrick.” She whirls around and seizes your father’s collar in tight fists, but then sobs break through her figure. “Stop acting like our daughter is dying!”   “I know, I know.” He embraces her. “But if we want her to live, she has to rest. Remember what the healers said?”   Your mother nods into his shoulder and your father stares at you.   There’s not enough strength in you to stay conscious, so you black out against your will moments later. But you swear you feel him squeeze your hand before he leaves.   //   Taehyung cracks open the door fifteen minutes after three. The hallway is shrouded in darkness with only a tiny sliver of the moon’s luminescence that will wane away tomorrow. His breath was hitched and only with no one in sight was he able to slip into the shadows.    He feels like a child again, having to lurk in the castle’s corridors. But he had to see you.   Taehyung comes to your bedside where you’re fast asleep. His left hand grips the arrow that had pierced into your flesh, hard enough that his knuckles turn white, that his entire fist shakes.    The silver tip is decorated with loops and ornate designs. He stared at it long enough that the pattern is embedded beneath his eyelids. But for now, he sets the arrow down on your bedside and lifts his hand to hover over your body.   Taehyung frowns. He recognizes the dark magic over your soul.    He should've seen it, should’ve tried to use his magic to detect it when he had the chance. Not now when it was too late. When it’s suddenly so obvious. The magic spills out of your skin when Taehyung beckons it forward, consuming the room into pitch blackness that chokes him. It’s as if your soul has been encased in it, so thick that he doesn’t know where the magic ends or begins.    Taehyung tries to break it, to shatter the magic apart and dissipate the shards. But when he touches it, there’s a spark. A golden trace, like lightning on a stormy day. He sharply inhales as it stings him and he notices your brows furrow.   The man quickly seals the dark magic up again. He wonders who did this to you.   His right hand tightens on the pink handkerchief frayed at the edges. He kept it all of this time. There just hasn’t been the right moment to give it back to you yet. But he knows they’ll be a day.   He’s counting on it.   Taehyung murmurs an incantation underneath his breath, a healing spell that has your expression easing again. A soft breath escapes the seam of your lips as if you’re soothed from pain.   “I’m sorry.”   You hear what sounds like Taehyung’s voice inside your head.    He has nothing to apologize for. You’re the one who did him wrong, who pushed him away, who made him out as someone to be feared — you saw him as the villain before he even became one.   But when you awake, there’s no one there.   //    The next morning, you start to feel better again.   Your body feels less like a heavy cage against the mattress. Your shoulder doesn’t ache with each movement and your fever has faded away. In the following days, the healers are taken aback at the change but start to become more optimistic, and Lucy smiles with tears in her eyes to see you conscious. You’re well enough to at least be able to sit up too.   “Has anyone visited me?” you ask a maid who’s come by to replace your clothes.    But the young girl shakes her head. “Is there someone you want to see, Lady Anastasia?”   “No…”   As if you were speaking of the devil, another attendant enters the room. “Lady Anastasia, there’s someone here…”   The corner of your mouth upturns and you immediately lean forward. But instead of the person you were hoping for, it’s dark-hair and doe eyes.   Jungkook smiles and the two girls leave a beat later, giving the pair of you some privacy. He knows you well enough over the years to see your disappointment. “Were you expecting someone else?”   “Of course not,” you scoff, leaning against the headboard.   “I’m glad to see you better enough to mouth off again.” Jungkook grins and takes his seat on the chair beside you. “But there’s something we should talk about, Anna.”   “What is it?”   “The engagement ball is coming up.”   You stay silent.   “The advisors think we should do ahead with the engagement after this incident. There’s some suspicion this had something to do with you being kidnapped and there’s an investigation going on, but the advisors think it’ll be reflected poorly if the royal family doesn’t take responsibility for your injuries.”   There’s a pause. A quiet simmer. The corner of his mouth quirks gingerly.   “Surprisingly, the Duke and Duchess haven’t said anything about it.”   You burst out laughing. “For once.”   Jungkook’s smile is short lived. He inhales a deep breath and hesitates. You’ve never seen Jungkook so careful in choosing his words before, but you have a feeling of what he wants to say. “Anna. I care about you, I do. You’ve been a friend since we were children. But I don’t think I can go through with this marriag—”   “Stop,” you interrupt and he looks up. Your eyes meet and you smile, taking his hand. “I’ve always said I wouldn’t stop you, Jungkook.”   He nods and whispers, “Thank you.”   You hold hands, smiling at him. “You’ll always be a close friend of mine.”   No matter what path this universe goes down, Anastasia never ends up with Jungkook.    And Y/N doesn’t either.   It’s impossible when you have someone else who can beckon your heart with a simple gaze.

Half across the castle, Taehyung enters the throne room.   It’s decorated with a red carpet, chandeliers, and a throne at the end that sits above all, looking down at the rest. It’s imposing as it is grand. But before he can come closer, the knights refuse him. Their partisan weapons block his way, a criss-cross that doesn’t give him an inch to move.   “Let me speak to the King.”   “The King is occupied,” one of them states plainly.   “Let me speak to him,” Taehyung raises his voice and steps closer.   The old man on the throne hears the ruckus. His ears perk and his attention is taken. His deep timbre bellows down the hall— “Let him through.”   Only then at his allowance is Taehyung able to walk down the carpet. His strides don’t halt until he’s at the bottom of the staircase.    The King doesn’t wear an expression, but Taehyung knows there’s quiet disdain underneath it. A reserved contempt that he tries to mask for appearance sakes.    He made the same face at his mother’s funeral.   “What have you come here for?”   Taehyung throws down the arrow in front of him, the arrow still stained with your blood.   The King’s brow quirks. “What is the meaning of this?”   “Someone who doesn’t know magic wouldn’t be able to see that this is striking silver. It’s material only used by the palace’s arrows.”   “It must’ve been stolen.”   “But I found them,” he quiets. “I found the person who fired the shot and I fed them a truth serum and they confessed to me.” Taehyung lifts his head and steps closer to the throne. “You did this, didn’t you?”   The deep timbre of Taehyung’s voice resounds through the hall. The scowl he holds carries a deeply rooted loathing he didn’t know he had within him. “You tried to kill your own son.”   “How dare you try to accuse the royal King!” His fist bangs against the armrest and it rings in Taehyung’s ears. His face is twisted in appalment, the shout that tears through his throat is spat out. “You would rather believe a servant than the King?!”   “Why do you lie to me?”   He is used to their scorn, their contempt and hatred. Taehyung knows. He has endured this treatment for a lifetime, since the moment he took his first breath. But when it comes to you…   When it comes to you, Taehyung can shut his eyes and still see the moment you took the arrow for him. The arrow inflicted by his own father. It’s been burnt to memory — your expression, your words, the blood that poured from the gaps of his fingertips. It’s been seared to mind.   He was the one who put you in harm’s way when he swore to himself he would never ever let that happen. He vowed that he wouldn't see you until he became strong enough.   So he stands his ground. Not for his own pride, dignity or his injustices.    But for you. A reason that is greater to Taehyung than all other reasons.   “You let my mother die and now you’re trying to kill me—”   “Silence! You dare stand there and accuse me.” The King abruptly rises to his feet, pointing down at him with a shaking hand. His face is reddened at these allegations, a reaction so tense it can only prove to be true. “You are nothing but an orphan boy! I don’t have a son like you! Guards!”   Three knights storm through the throne room. “Arrest him for treason!”   The King has commanded the castle at his will, marionette dolls without even needing to tug the strings. As easy as ringing a bell. Or calling a dog.    They have always had it easy. A life of luxury that knows no suffering. The deeper the blue shade of blood, the stronger the status. As if heroes are born instead of having their title earned.   “Why?”   The guards are three steps away, armours clanking, hands outstretched. But darkness sweeps from Taehyung’s shadow and consumes the room, bleeding throughout. He’s not sure where it comes from, doesn’t pay mind to recognize that it’s your dark magic lent to him, but it pours out of his skin, thick enough to choke on.   “Why?!” Taehyung shouts from the pit of his stomach, past his gritted teeth. He demands to know, he aches for answers. If all this pain is because of his dirtied birthright — the only thing he couldn’t control and perhaps the only reason he isn’t loved. “Why did you do this?!”   “Guards!” The King manages to call out in the midst of his wheeze and they finally get to Taehyung, hands snatching his arms, ripping them from their sockets. The darkness dissipates. “You dare use magic against the King?!”   “Is it because I threatened your favourite’s son’s position?! Is it because of Jungkook?!”   Taehyung thrashes against the guards. He was a mistake manifested, a reminder of the errors of the King’s ways. His existence taints the pristine reputation of the royal family. But why—   “Why did you do this to her?! Why did you get Anastasia involved?! She's innocent!”   “That girl will never be yours,” the man spits from his place by the throne, mocking his audacity to covet his brother’s fiancée. “And if you dare to use magic against me one more time, then I’ll make your wish come true. She will be killed next to you.”   His jaw clenches. Wrath seethes beneath his skin.   The guards yank at him. “Move!”   The grand doors slam shut.   //   Something is wrong.   You can feel it — you’re cold, chest aching, experiencing dizzy spells. But it’s not from the wound in your shoulder that’s already closing. You haven’t felt this way since you were young and you were bedridden without explanation. You can only hope it passes quickly like it did then.   But the maid notices you pressing against the left side of your chest.   “My lady?”   You look into the vanity mirror where the young girl stares at you worriedly. “Are you alright? Prince Jungkook already told us that if you weren’t feeling well, you don’t have to attend the ball.”   You wave her off. “It’s fine.”   She hesitates but then nods, swiftly brushing out your hair to pin half of it up. You’re dressed in a gray gown, a simple ensemble with white flowers decorated sporadically through your hair as if you sat beneath a blossom tree. You’re glad you don’t look sick on the outside.   You’re tired of being cooped up inside of your room all day. Laying in bed is only so much fun after two weeks in a row. Not to mention, tonight is important. Jungkook will be making the announcement of dissolving your engagement. It’s the whole reason a ball was set up in the first place. There’s no better time to do it than in public — that way no advisor or even the King will be able to stop him.    But most of all, you’re afraid if you don’t leave, you won’t be able to see him.   He hasn’t visited and it’s not like you can call for him with the current state of your status and his own. But you still need to talk to Taehyung.   You need to tell him the truth.   The moment you arrive at the ballroom, your eyes immediately start to sweep the surroundings for brown eyes, dark hair. Your smile is softer than your usual forced one. He has to be here.   “Lady Anastasia!” A viscountess greets you. “I’m so glad to see you’re doing well. I heard about the awful incident.”   “Yes, well, I’m much better now.”   “It sounded so frightening!” Another says, “I wonder who could’ve done such a thing!”   You nod and before you can get completely swarmed by the elites feigning concern, you curtsy. “If you’ll excuse me…”   “Anastasia!” Luckily, a familiar girl comes through the crowd to save the day. Her eyes are bright and her smile is wide. Some mutter at how she dares to call you so intimately, but you pay no mind to them. Lucy looks like she wants to hug you, but for appearance sake, she merely takes your hand. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? I didn’t know if you were coming, so I was planning to visit you and—”   “I’m fine, Lucy. Thank you.”   The girl nods, and rescues you. You can tell it was intentional with the way she guides you out of the sea of people and you’re appreciative. You lean on her for support while looking around for Taehyung. You turn your head in each direction, eyes scrutinizing every person, but you can’t find him.   “Anastasia, I have something to tell you.” Once the two of you are in the corner of the room that allows for a private moment, Lucy shifts to you with anguish reflected in her eyes. “I should’ve been honest with you from the start, but I was denying it since the last thing I wanted was to hurt you. You’re my greatest friend and I love you more than anyone, so if you tell me to leave and never come back, I will in a heartbea—”   “Lucy.” You squeeze her hand. “Jungkook already told me everything.”   Her eyes are wide, brows lifted. You know.    She lowers her head in shame. “I’m sorry.”   The corner of your mouth pulls. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”   You expected this to happen. You have been waiting for it since the beginning. So it doesn’t break your heart like maybe it should. And maybe part of the reason is because of one person.   You frantically ask her what’s been plaguing you, “Lucy, have you seen Taehyung?”   “His Highness?” She shakes her head. “I haven’t.”   It’s odd. He’s always been there. Anywhere where you are. You could turn around and see him.    The mellifluous violins suddenly stop. Conversations simmer down and you hear a clearing of the voice in front of the room. Jungkook steps up the stairs in his princely attire and commands the attention of the crowd. “I have an important announcement to make.”   He looks at you and smiles, nodding his head. Jungkook’s lips part to speak.   All your efforts have been put into this one moment. A peaceful annulment of your engagement, the beginning spark of your freedom. After this, you’ll find Taehyung. You’ll find him and—   “I also have an important announcement.” The King rises from his throne, smiling at his son, and all turn towards him.   That moment’s been stolen away.   Jungkook’s smile falls. Lucy frowns. You step forward.   “I did not want to soil this good day, but now that everyone is gathered, it is only proper to announce that evil and treachery has once again been dispelled away from this empire.”   There’s a clamour. A ruckus of silver armour clanking against one another. Heads turn towards the back entrance where curtains have been drawn. And your breath hitches at the sight.   Taehyung. Finally, you see him, but rope wraps around his trembling wrists and he’s dragged in by two guards without regard for his well-being. The sea of people split and he’s tossed down in front of the throne. He winces upon impact, but no one helps. No one bats an eyelash.   Murmurs immediately spark throughout the room.   An advisor comes forward, reading from his scroll. “His Royal Highness, Taehyung, has been arrested on grounds of treason and attempted regicide committed against His Majesty.”   “Isn’t that the eldest son?” — “The bastard son.” — “Treason?” — “How could he do something like that? To his own father?”   You push a few aside, coming closer. “Taehyung.”    Jungkook comes down the steps, mouth drawing open. Lucy is frozen in her spot.   “There has been evidence found of his Royal Highness practicing the dark arts which has been banned in all of Ashea due to its dangerous and intrinsically evil nature.”   The malicious whispers swell, fear tangible in people’s eyes as those in front back away.   “His Highness has also dared to accuse the royal King of conspiracy. He endangered his Majesty’s life and attacked the guards of the palace, threatening the entire stability of Ashea.”    There are gasps. You shove someone aside to get past them.   “Therefore, as the punishment fits the crime, he will be sentenced to death immediately.”   No. No!   The King’s voice booms throughout the ballroom, a grand timbre that has long replaced the mellifluous violins. “Let this be a reminder that justice is blind. That my own blood will not be spared of crimes committed against the empire. But let this also be a celebration.”    The King inhales a breath, his shadow looming over Taehyung, his expression full of contempt. His status is as powerful as the countless eyes narrowed in around him. “Today marks the end of tyranny. Today is the end of evil. Today is the beginning of a new era, full of prosperity led by the Crown Princess and the Crown Prince, the only son I have.”   Thunderous applause erupts. It’s deafening with the vigour of a hundred.   Taehyung’s condemnation has been made into a spectacle, a show for the empire, merely an intermission of tonight’s festivities. No one sews doubt. No one dares to think of it. Not when this is merely a bastard son without title, status or wealth. It is not worth believing anything aside from the royal monarch.   In just a few words from the King, Taehyung has been the empire’s villain.   It’s pandemonium. The back of Taehyung’s collar is grabbed and he’s brought up to his bruised knees. Jungkook shouts— “Wait!”. But the Prince is held back by two guards who apologize to him, not allowing another step forward, not allowing him to interfere. But you’re within reach.   You push people aside, fighting against the current of the crowd. You’re so close, you can see him. You can see him looking at you. “Taehyung!”   He smiles at you and your breath hitches in your throat, a painful lump swollen at the bottom.    Your chest aches enough that you nearly crumble to your knees.    You watch as his arms are restrained, face ripped away from your direction. You see a female attendant approaching with a golden tray balancing a porcelain bowl of emerald liquid. It’s poison. The same way his mother died. And they force it in his open mouth, pouring it down his throat.    He chokes on it, sputtering.   “Taehyung!”   The scream is torn out of your blood-curdling throat. Animosity curls hot and surges from the depths of your soul like a blazing inferno. It’s a hatred befitting of a villainess that has seized your entire being and turned the universe into shades of crimson until it’s all you can see.   “Stop it.”   It’s a choice.   You know now that it’s presented to you. A choice between goodness and Taehyung. Between self-preservation and Taehyung. Between a peaceful life and Taehyung.   But you’d choose him every time.   “Stop it.”   Your hands wrap around the sword handle of the guard trying to control the frenzied crowd. The metal whistles as it cuts through the air and he staggers back. You use the entire strength of your body to push past the guard. “Stop it!”   You swing manically until the attendants and servants shriek. Until the bowl slips and shatters on the red carpet, poison spilled like blood splattered. Until they’ve gotten away from him.   Heavy pants escape your lips and you’re faced with horrified expressions of countless. There is no hero to save Taehyung. There has never been a hero to save the villain.   The sword in your grip clangs to the ground. You lurch towards Taehyung and pull his collapsed body into your arms, crying out his name, clasping his cold cheek in your palm. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at you like he should, doesn’t speak your name carefully like you want him to.   “Why?!”    Anger oozes from you through the form of hot tears slipping from your eyes. You raise your pupils to the mighty King, teeth gritted, his own condemnations on your tongue. “His mother was poisoned by the Queen and no one thought to comfort him. He grew up alone. Fending for himself. And even now, his other father…And for what reason?!”    Darkness bleeds from you. It sweeps from your shadow, pours out of your skin and plunges the entire castle into a thick darkness within a blink of an eye. The dark magic weeps from your soul in the form of a violent wind that has whipped through your hair. The flames of the candles suffocating to death, blazing fires are snubbed to ash and the silver moonlight is brought to an eclipse.   “Being born isn’t a sin. Taehyung hasn’t hurt anyone!”    Your voice tearing from your throat echoes above the shrill screams of sheer terror, ear-splitting to the senses. There is chaos of women around you grabbing fistfuls of their ballgowns and running blindly, men aimlessly trying to escape and bumping into one another. An undignified stampede.   “Help me!” — “Mommy! Where are you?!” — “Someone save me!” — “Please! Let me out!”   The walls and ceilings of the palace begin to tremble, specks falling down like the snow of December. The chandeliers swing from their golden chains, crystals clanging together.    The King stands from his throne, shouting madly but no one hears or follows his command. Your parents are frightened, yet they still stand by and call out your name, only to no avail. The four walls around the room start to crack, splintering in tens of paths like a mirror colliding against the concrete. And the darkness becomes overwhelming. It consumes your form like smoke, the hue of ink spilled on oil. It wraps its hands around your throat and submerges you completely.   You realize this is the end.   You and Taehyung still became the villainess and the villain. You couldn’t escape that fate. You were stupid to think you could have any semblance of control. Everything was inevitable.   You hug Taehyung to your body as heart aching sobs wreck through your frame. No matter how hard you try, you can’t keep him warm. You can’t stop the cold from taking him away.   The little changes you made wasn’t enough to alter the final ending.   It was never enough. Nothing’s really changed.   The last traces of darkness embedded in your soul spills over. “Anastasia!” And somewhere in the cacophony, you hear Jungkook and Lucy scream your name.    It’s funny how even with this horrible ending, you don’t resent them whatsoever. If anything, it’s an irony that the two main protagonists are the only people who know your true nature and Taehyung’s. They’re the only pair that believes in you, that knows Taehyung isn’t a villain.   You hope they can be happy together.   You hold Taehyung in your arms and before you can be absorbed in darkness, the both of you glow. His skin and yours illuminates like stars on a night sky, burning a warm light. Your brows furrow, the last of your tears shedding down your cheeks and then your breath hitches as a shade of emerald wisps floats from Taehyung’s parted lips.   You recognize the colour — it’s the same as the poison.   ‘I once knew a woman, a kind but poor woman.’ You get it now. ‘She wanted to do anything she could to change the predetermined fate of her unborn child.’ You finally understand as the priestess’ voice rings inside your head like a death knell. ‘She did a ritual to search for a soul that would protect her son.’   The black magic is saving Taehyung. The poison is being drawn out of his body. But you’re the trade-off.    The darkness will devour you to save him.    You quickly hug Taehyung closer to you, embracing him against your body. The darkness is consuming your being, but you’re not afraid. You don’t feel scared whatsoever.    This is your purpose after all, the reason why your soul is here in this universe. This is where your thread of fate entangles with Taehyung. It’s your final act as his destined protector.    Darkness swallows you.

It’s an empty void of pitch black. An abyss of nothing.   There’s a pressure on your shoulders. It’s heavy. Comforting. Eerie. All at the same time.   Yet it feels a bit different from being dead. Or at least from what you can remember. It’s as if you’re somewhere between the boundary of life and death. Your consciousness is still sharp and in-tact instead of being hazy. And you feel very much like Y/N and Anastasia rather than just being.   Your suspicions that this isn’t death is confirmed when you can make out a figure in the distance. It’s a line of light tracing a body and as you come closer, you’re able to make out a woman.   She’s dressed in simple attire, a gray dress that has fabrics layered on top of one another, light enough that they drape down and flow, and there’s a charcoal shawl around her shoulders. Her brunette hair is tied into a bun and as if she feels the pressure of your eyes, her bright irises turn towards you.   “I’m sorry I put you through this.”   Her voice is soothing. It sounds all around you and awakens a memory of when you were seven, when you saw her at the garden, when she offered you her kindness. And now that you’ve seen her again, she looks so much like Taehyung. The yearning in your heart is painful.   “I just wanted to save my son.”   “I know.”   “But I didn’t realize that if you died, everything would repeat.” The corners of her mouth upturns into a grieving smile, her gaze saddened. “Taehyung would have an even stronger reason for revenge.”   Blood drains from your face and you can hear it above you — Taehyung’s haunting voice, the many future paths and possibilities that you had tried to prevent.   “You killed her!” — “She was the only person I ever loved!” — “All I wanted was to be with her!”   You’ve failed. Even more than the original story. Your existence made things worse for him. It brought the empire to ash by his hand.   “I...I’m sorry.” You look at her, voice heavy in your throat. “I was given the chance to know everything, to live through it all, but I still made the wrong choices in the end. All of them. It never amounted to anything. I lost to fate.”   “It’s not your fault, Y/N.” Taehyung’s mother closes the distance with three steps and her hand lifts to tenderly cup your cheek. The pad of her thumb wipes away your teardrop. “I am thankful you were the one who was there for him.”   She vanishes before you before another syllable can be uttered from your lips. The particles of her body dissipate in thin air as if her appearance was just an imprinted memory embedded in the magic. You grasp the space in front of you and realize that it’s empty, that you’re alone.   “No,” you scream. “I-If I could do it again, I’d redo it all.”   The last remnants of magic in your soul tingles at your fingertips. It’s wielded in your complete control. And a thought strikes you. Your soul has manipulated space and time before. In this abyss...you can restart it. You can begin it all over again. You can make up for your mistakes.   You would start on that night. That night he came to your balcony. ‘I was going to take that secret to the grave, but I can’t stand by and watch you like this. I love you. Be with me.’   You would answer him with a yes. You would take his hands—   But no. It wouldn’t be enough. You need to keep turning back time.   Before the hunt and the feast. The debutante ball, the night of the Solar Festival eight years ago. Before the funeral and the moment you came to him. You need to save Taehyung’s mom.   “My son likes chocolate, but I only managed to get candy for today.” — “Your son?” — “Mom?”   If you returned to those days, you would’ve been quiet. You would’ve complied. You would make it so he never had to see you, so you two would never have to meet.   You wouldn’t allow yourself to exist.   As the memories plague you and time twists backwards, you realize that all those coincidences were never coincidences. The first meeting. The funeral. The Solar Festival. The reunion. It was fate.   But you can sever the thread. You can erase yourself from the story.   “Anastasia! Wait!”   Your wrist is taken and you’re suddenly yanked back into a firm chest before time can be moved to your will. A gasp pulls from your lungs and your eyes lift to meet brown ones. He found you.   “Don’t do it.” Taehyung’s grabbed a hold of you. He’s materialized into this limbo, but his skin is translucent, barely held together by his own magic. He gazes at you and begs, “Please.”   “H-How are you here?”   “I would never let you go so easily.”    It must run in the family — mother and son alike fighting against the laws of nature to alter fate through sheer will.    Taehyung’s found you through his magic, traveled realms and universes to follow you into this state of uncertainty between life and death. You don’t know if you feel happy or sad, or even laugh at the fact that no matter what you did, Taehyung still became a powerful magician. But you know he’s weakened, that he can’t be here for long. He is still on the side of life after all. There’s only so much time left before he’ll be forced away.    He’ll return. And his fate might be worse than it was before.   “I’m sorry.” You shake your head. “I don’t want you to die.”   Taehyung pulls you into him. His arms wrap around your frame and he tightly embraces you. Your face presses into his shoulder and he sighs against the strands of your hair. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t change anything. Don’t go back. I don’t want to get rid of these memories.”   “But your mom.”   “It’s okay,” he murmurs, “It’s okay. I still don’t want you to change anything about you or me. What’s done is done. Just come back with me. You saved me so let me save you.”   “No one gets to decide what happens to us, other than us.” He promises, “I won’t let it happen.”   The urge to trust Taehyung runs deeper than your despair and doubts. So you inhale a deep breath and nod. No matter what happens, you’ll be together.    Taehyung smiles against you and before he slips from the realm of nothingness. The darkness around the pair of you disappears. You grab onto him tightly, bracing yourself and once you open your eyes, you find yourself returned to the ballroom, the dark magic no longer present.    It’s vanished from your soul. It doesn’t linger in the room. People are no longer screaming.    Instead, they pant, pressed up against the farthest side of the room, still shaking from fear. Fragments of the disaster still dwell by the debris, the broken chandeliers, and the cracked walls.   The King is disheveled and anger is aflame in his eyes. He inhales a heaving breath and then points to the both of you, bellowing, “Arrest them!”   But no one moves.   Taehyung keeps you in his arms and faces his father. “All I ever wanted was to be loved. And I finally found the person who can do so unequivocally. I wouldn’t give this up for the world.”   Your eyes meet your parents who make no efforts to stop you. They stand still, expressions impassive yet warm at the edges. Then your eyes stray to Lucy and Jungkook, apologetic.   Before another word can be spoken, Taehyung disappears with you.   It happens in a mere blink. Like the Summer breeze whisking away dandelion seeds to the far off meadow, a iridescent soap bubble in the azure sky popping. The both of you are gone.   Just like that.    You vanish in thin air with only traces of Taehyung’s magic left behind.   Instantly, there’s a ruckus — a clamour from the people. The King’s face crumples and reddens, and he shakes with an unadulterated fury. His voice booms throughout the room as he commands the guards. “Find them!”   But they never do.   And for that, Jungkook is relieved.

The King falls ill. 

It happens shortly after the incident that soils the reputation of the entire empire and spreads across the lands. A tale of a forbidden love between villains — the Forgotten Prince and the Crown Prince’s fiancée. A story that warns children of dark magic and straying off their destined path. And it’s whispered from traders and merchants to the elite of nearby kingdoms.    For the rest of the months that the King is alive, he tries to search for his first son.   “Your Majesty.” A knight bows.   “What did you find?”   There’s a held silence. “The trail has gone cold.”   The King’s hand curls into a tight fist and he turns, snatching the golden gauntlet off the table to hurl it at the knight who flinches. The gauntlet slams into the floor, skidding off in the room and as the King huffs dryly and moves away, another knight arrives. He immediately bows.   “On with it!” he barks.   “The traces of magic have vanished. The Magicians of the Tower cannot trace it. They’re nowhere in sight, Your Majesty.”   The old man staggers on his feet. He presses his fingers against his pounding temples and before another shout can surge through his lungs and throat, he tilts and collapses onto the ground.    The golden crown clatters off his head.   “Your Majesty!”   It’s a twisted irony.    All of Taehyung’s life, he’s been neglected and ignored. Pushed to the corners of the castle — unwanted, unheard, unloved. But when the King is on his deathbed, the healers unable to cure him of his maddened anger that’s strained his health, Taehyung is all he looks for.   “Father.” Jungkook is at his bedside, kneeling with his brows tightly knitted.   The King turns his head and a dry wheeze chokes out of him. With his last breath, he asks, “Whe...re...is….T...ae...h...y..u..ng?”   The question is left unanswered.    He dies with his eyes still open, cold hand slipping out of his son’s, arm dropping over the edge.    Jungkook’s breath hitches in his nose, his eyes stinging painfully. But he shuts his lids tight and musters strength. In the next moment, he stands and turns to face the grieving advisors behind him. His voice is firm. Unwavering. “Announce the King’s death and prepare for an edict.”   The men exchange expressions. “What will the edict be, Your Majesty?”   “Anyone who sees my brother and harms him shall be executed under the crown.”   When Jungkook reigns, he undos all the indictments made by his father. It’s a surprise to all, an act difficult to understand to Dukes and commoners alike, but Jungkook clears Taehyung’s name alongside Lucienne de Liza Helena who becomes Queen in the following Spring.    Peace is once again brought to the empire of Ashea in the coming years.   Slowly but surely, the tales of the Prince’s Fiancée and the Forgotten Prince metamorphosizes from the tragic story of villains to children folktales of sacrifice and star-crossed lovers, an ancient mystery never solved.   There are those who wonder if they perished together in a meadow. And those who believe that the pair are perhaps still alive and wandering the lands hand in hand together.

[Epilogue]   “Cheyenne! Is that eggs?”   The young maid looks down at her tray. “Ummm….”    “What did I say? Her Majesty will get sick if she smells eggs!” The older girl quickly takes it away from her and puts it down. “Do you want to get into trouble?”   “I forgot, I swear!”   “You should be lucky that I caught you in time, and that the Queen is so forgiving. But if His Majesty saw…” She shakes her head. “He wouldn’t have any of it. Not when Her Majesty is in such a fragile state.”   She nods and the two of them quickly head back to the kitchen. But surprisingly, the head maid tells them there’s no need to deliver breakfast to Her Majesty’s chambers. They instead follow orders to hang up the sheets in the west courtyard. But on their way, the younger stops when her friend beckons her over. The conversation is only a minute before she’s catching up to the older girl.   “Slacking already?”   The younger maid pouts. “No. Kaylein was just telling me about the strange people.”   “What?”   “Did you not hear? There were two strange people who came earlier into the castle. Apparently they’re healers from a distant land.” Her eyes light up as she connects the dots. “That must be why Her Majesty isn’t having her breakfast!”   “Well thank goodness.” Her eyes dart around and she lowers her voice. “Ever since it was announced she was with child, everyone’s been worried about her health. Even the King doesn’t look like he’s slept well in months.”   The younger nods enthusiastically. “But this means Her Majesty will be safe, right?”   The older girl smiles. “Let’s hope so.”   ...   Half across the castle, Jungkook marches down the corridor in determined strides and eyes set firmly to the doors at the end. He’s already dismissed his annoyingly persistent advisors and every castle worker knows better than to interrupt him when he’s beelining straight ahead. No one disturbs him as they rightfully shouldn’t, and he gets to the chambers, opening the door only slightly to slip inside.   Inside, there are two cloaked figures, forms draped in complete black.   Or at least until they turn and Jungkook sees brown eyes with a meaningful expression and another with a mischievous grin who scoffs, “About time, Your Royal Majesty. Or should I say, late as always?”   Jungkook didn’t miss that sarcastic tone. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.   “When did you get here?”   “Ten minutes ago. You should be lucky we entered properly. I almost told Taehyung to just teleport us inside to save us the walk.”   “Well I’m glad you didn’t.” The corner of Jungkook’s mouth curls. “Or else my knights might’ve thought you were intruders and cut off your heads.”   “Psh. Uh-huh. If they can even catch us.”   “Shush, you two,” Taehyung commands and you glare at him playfully.   The man turns back to the Queen who’s upright in her bed and his hands hover over her. Her eyes are shut and she glows for a moment before the light dissipates. When it’s done, she sighs softly in relief and colour seems to return to her features.   “Thank you,” she murmurs and opens her eyes.   “How is she?” Jungkook rushes to her side.   Lucy smiles, clasping her hand on top of his. “I’m fine, Jungkook.”   “She should be better now,” Taehyung confirms. “Her energy was off balance and her mana was disordered. But she shouldn’t feel so tired anymore. It looks like the future heir is a magical user.”   “How lucky.” You press your nose into the crowd.   Jungkook ignores you. “So she should be okay now?”   “For the time being. Of course, I’m not a midwife so she should follow their instructions and rest.”   “See?” Lucy stands up while holding onto her swollen stomach and her husband rushes to help her. But she waves him off and hoists herself onto her feet. Lucy’s become a lot firmer since you remembered, her kindness almost matronly now. It might be from the experience she’s gained or how she’s going to be a mother soon. But you weren’t wrong when you thought she’d make a beloved Queen all those years ago. “You heard him. There’s no need to fret, Jungkook.”   “I know, I know. I just can’t help it.” He sighs and looks at his older brother. “You should stay.”   “Jungkook—”   “We don’t know when we’ll need you again. All those healers are useless compared to you. It’s better if you’re here. The Magician’s Tower would be happy to have your magical talents and it’s only right if Anna is here too.”   “We already talked about this.”   You add in, “We have this conversation every time.”   Jungkook gives the two of you a look. “Then maybe it’s time that you start considering it.”   “He’s right.” Lucy comes and takes your hands within her’s, holding them gently. “Stay with us, Anastasia. I miss you and I want to talk to you often.” Before you can jump in, she beats you to the punch, “and not just through letters. The palace will always welcome you. The people will open their eyes with time.”   The corner of your mouth pulls. “Is this a command, Your Majesty?”   She sighs softly with a smile and lets you go. “You know it isn’t.”   Lucy’s gotten older — all of you have. You’ve grown into your frames, matured, and are no longer children unaware and afraid. When you come here with Taehyung and see them, it makes you feel like you haven’t made such bad choices all along. That perhaps, things weren’t as bad as you once thought.   “Stay with us,” Jungkook insists, coming to hold onto Lucy to support her.   You look at Taehyung and exchange expressions. Your answer will always be the same.    “We can’t. You know we have a new home now.” You come to Taehyung’s side and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. The pair of you know it’s time. You can’t stay for long. “You can always come visit us. I promise the forest isn’t that bad. Taehyung’s already chased off the wild beasts.”   “I did.” He looks down and grins at you.   “At least think about it,” Jungkook sighs. He looks a bit tired and worn, but in spite of the heavy duties placed upon him as King, he’s coping well. Better than expected.   They might thank you and Taehyung each time you visit, but you have more than enough reasons to be grateful to the two of them. It’s because of Jungkook and Lucy that the Devereux house is still standing. You’ve seen them from afar — your parents look happy in their retirement, and Joan and Edith are still very much employed and gossiping about the latest scandals together.   It’s because of them that the guilt and burdens have lifted from you.   But even if you are indebted equally to each other, you can’t grant his wish.   “You know I’ve never liked castle life, Jungkook.” You loll your head to the side. “Our daughter has a bad habit of collecting ladybugs too, so I don’t think she’d suit it either.” You grin when Jungkook glares, recalling the first meeting back when you were children that you’ll never let go. “I just wonder who she gets her troublemaking personality from.”   Taehyung’s brow cocks.“Obviously from you.”    You look up at your husband and your smile softens. “Your daughter almost set my hair on fire yesterday using nothing but her hands.”   “She’ll make a talented magician,” he declares proudly.   You scoff and look at the two monarchs who are best fitted for their positions. “We shouldn’t leave her for long in case she floods the rooms again. But we’ll come when the boy’s born.”   The pair of them turn to one another and your mouth draws open. “Guess I ruined the surprise! Sorry! But it’s a boy! Congratulations again.”    You quickly laugh much to Lucy’s amusement and Jungkook’s surprise. Taehyung shakes his head as if he knew he should’ve just kept it to himself.    Before another word can be said, the pair of you disappear again. Right into thin air.   //   The wooden box of mementos are full of objects and trinkets, little memories made across the lands before you settled in the perfect forest bordering the meadow. But above it all is a neatly folded pink handkerchief that’s frayed at the hem from age.    You still can’t believe he kept it for so long. But you look at it with fondness.   It was the first right decision you’ve ever made.   “Taehyung.”   “Hmmm?”   “Would you believe me if I told you I came from another world?”   He’s quiet for a moment. “I would.” Before you can ask why, he says, “You were the only one who sat next to a crying kid underneath a tree without even knowing them.”   You laugh and he smiles, leaning in to plant a soft kiss to your lips as the midnight oil burns.   The cottage is quiet with your child fast asleep in the next room. The forest is tranquil too and as thick as the darkness is outside, it’s nothing but comforting.   “Do you ever want to go back to that world?” Taehyung asks after a moment.   You look at him, smile tender. “Why would I when my purpose is to be with you right here?”   This is all you wanted in two entire lifetimes — a long and fruitful life, full of peace and happiness.   And it’s only the beginning.

[yanderenightmare]

BNHA HEADCANNONS

WHAT TYPE OF DARLING?

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncon/dubcon hinting, stalking, kidnapping, abduction, Stockholm syndrome, abuse, drugging, ableism

FOREWORD:

People fall in love with contrasts. We fall in love with qualities that somehow survive what seeks to destroy them. We fall in love with small creatures who somehow seem colossal in the measurements of confidence. We fall in love with hope in places where there shouldn’t be any strength left for it to be held onto. We fall in love with those who dare spare compassion for even those that might not deserve it anymore. We fall in love with those who’s curiosity seeks adventure even when the outcome might be fatal. We fall in love with those who stand their ground, refusing to budge, break or bow, despite the terror they face. We fall in love with those that stick to their ideals, morals, ethics even though the world constantly tells them to join the corruption. We fall in love with humble creatures facing worlds that have shown them nothing but cruelty. We fall in love with the survival of passion overcoming pure torture. We fall in love with contrasts. We fall in love with constant wars.

BAKUGO KATSUKI CONFIDENCE DESPITE INFERIORITY

It might sound shallow and materialistic, but what Katsuki attracts to first and foremost is femininity. He enjoys the esthetic contrast between his tall masculine rough self and someone dainty, delicate, defenseless. Something in dire need of protection. Something in dire need of him. However, that’s far away from ever being enough for the hero to fall in love. What Katsuki needs is a good challenge. He doesn’t feel fit, content with or deserving of his prize if he hasn’t worked hard to achieve them. It’s about stimulation; that feral desire to hunt and catch prey. Which means, he much rather prefers chasing above being chased. Because of this, Katsuki carries no interest in quirkless individuals. He doesn’t view them as equals, much less rivals. They are unworthy of him, in some sense. But… quirkless individuals who still have the audacity to pretend to be his equal… now that, that intrigues him.

When it comes to his darling: her quirk, or lack of one thereof, plays a large factor in why Katsuki first pays notice to her. It’s something between endearing and maddening: how she, without a quirk, can still go about with the confidence to act as though she’s unbothered by it and somehow live her life while still portraying as the sun itself. It’s infuriating to some degree: how she can make him feel like Icarus when she smiles his way. How she makes him feel inferior but somehow blessed at the same time.

As explained: despite it acting as a brief relief to satiate his ego, inferiority usually disgusts Katsuki. But, there’s something about her and her ambition, that just makes the whole display so mouthwatering to perceive. He admires her tenacity and aspiration, even though it’s futile. It’s inspirational just as much as it’s adorable. Somewhere inside him he feels the need to protect that light, meanwhile he also feels the sadistic urge to squash it, or, at the very least, prove that he has the power to. That’s were his sadistic narcissism comes to play. He has always had an odd lust for putting people in their place, their rightful place. To him: it portrays as a constant reminder that he himself is superior. This sickness only grows deeper, festering in Katsuki’s heart. Where her dependence of him, even though it’s mostly unfounded, could only be described as pure rapture. Katsuki just loves and craves feeling needed, not caring if it’s unwanted or not. In his eyes she was made to be ruled, made to be taken care of, made for him and only him. He adores how little power she possesses in the world, and the idea that he is the only person who can properly protect her from it all has become absolutely riveting.

Katsuki’s usually indifferent towards people’s attitudes, only ever judging people by their strengths and weaknesses. But, this girl, in all her inferiority has managed to create contradictions upon paradoxes within his mind. And, because of this, she poses as the ultimate challenge. Though he would never admit it, mostly chalking it down to her being whimsical and naïve, he quite admires her perseverance. How her spirit survives what her body cannot, as though she was built to break, only to come back even stronger than before; like a phoenix from the ashes and rubble of what his quirk left behind. If anything, her endurance only proves how much they truly belong together. Who, if not her, could ever handle him in his darkest hours?

KEYWORDS: feminine, vulnerable, delicate, confident, aspiring, perseverant

DABI HOPE AMONGST DEPRAVITY

Small, plump and grabbable females is what attracts Dabi, but it’s never enough to make him linger for too long. Dabi enjoys his females shy, because he knows that those are the ones that are the most sensitive; emotional, loud. Alike Katsuki, Dabi enjoys contrast. He’s scarred, he wants someone untouched. He’s the devil incarnate, he craves the embodiment of innocence. He much delights in seeing that timid type of lust in those otherwise chaste eyes. But, whence he’s destroyed that chastity, there’s not much that beckons him to stay. It takes a lot more for him to fall in real love.

What intrigued Dabi even further than her physique and innocence was his darling’s act of charity. Her need to help, her belief in the goodness in humanity as opposed to his obvious abandoned hope for the world. She looked at people with a mission, seeking the tragedy behind the wrath, the beauty behind the madness, refusing to let go of her hope as opposed to seeing the truth. Oh, how adorably naïve she was.

It was a strange type of strength he no longer possessed, no longer seeing the point in wasting his energy on, yet… seeing it displayed so easily in someone else, especially when her eyes were locked on him, was something gratifyingly pleasant and warm; a kindness he felt undeserving of, yet… not possessing the reserve to refuse, not when she was so intent of indulging him. It was a sanctuary that reminded him of a grace he was never blessed with having; something he could only describe as home.

That childlike hope and innocence, he just couldn’t leave well enough alone. He needed to hoard it all to himself. Besides, she needed him as much he needed her. As everybody knows: innocence is so fickle and easy to influence. She was deeply in need of guidance and so very eager to please. Dabi appreciates loyalty, he’s not one to enjoy struggling with his darling. And with someone as sweet, innocent and sensitive as his darling, it will be very easy to enforce. And now, with those large doe-eyes directed toward him, he could say it was worth it. He so adores the chaste disbelief displayed on her face each time he introduces her to some new type of sin. The swirling, spinning, drooling storm brewing in her eyes, all under the crushing weight of paradise. She’s too good for him. He knows that much. But… that’s what angels were made for, wasn’t it? To save damned souls like his, risking becoming damned themselves in the process? She was surely sent his way for a reason. She was made for him.

It only seems right in his eyes: that a sweet and innocent creature like her craves the corruption that only a sinful being like him can bestow upon her. She’s probably been waiting for someone like him all her life. She might not understand it yet, but Dabi can see it clear as day. She’s so wide-eyed and hopeless. Looking at him as though he were a God of some sorts. She kneels so easily and perfectly for him as well, you cannot tell him it isn’t what she was made for. To please him. To love him. Leaving her morals and ideals and firsts on floor all for his pleasure.

KEYWORDS: sensitive, emotional, shy, timid, innocent, naïve, sweet, caring, soft, loyal

SHIGARAKI TOMURA COMPASSION FOR THE WICKED

Tomura cares little for appearance. He destroys everything and anything he touches, no matter how ugly or how pretty. Esthetic has nothing to do with real life and therefore something idiotic for anyone to appeal to. Besides, for someone to draw his attention they have to be more than just pretty. For Tomura to truly notice someone, they have to be special… rare. For Tomura to give anyone a second glare he has to feel like he’s meant to, it has to feel like fate; unrivaled destiny. Otherwise he’s wasting his time. And along she came; his destiny. Looking at him with those large doe-eyes; gazing past the ugly and seeing the tragedy instead, not as though he were some monster, but as though he were nothing more than human. It’s a kindness he’s so very unused to; a memory forgotten and buried beneath the rubble of past hopes and wasted dreams. The feeling of hummingbirds in his heart was so extremely foreign and strange and scary in a way, but welcoming at the same time. And, when she bestowed this grace upon him, he couldn’t simply just let it go.

Finding out she’s equipped with a quirk that goes hand in hand with his quirk only solidifies his delusions even further. His past doesn’t help her case either; not when it aids his steadfast resolution on the fact that she’s always somehow belonged to him. Tomura was never spoiled as a child, which is why he truly feels like he deserves her, and cannot bring himself to feel guilty for hogging all her love for himself. She really doesn’t do herself any favors either, not when she comforts him in his fits. Her in her fatal compassion. How she sympathizes with his troubles; his deadly quirk, his callous life-view, his woeful past. He’s never had anyone understand him the way she does. He’s been neglected all his life. It feels so oddly deserved and heavenly to have someone express concern, affection… love… all for him. He feels as though he’s been refused the sun all his life, only now feeling the warm embrace of the light it grants without it seeking anything in return. It’s baffling. To the point where he might just argue he’s been dead all his existence, up until the point he saw her smile, heard her laugh, felt her warmth. He doesn’t ever want to feel like he’s dying again, not when she poses as life itself, not when she’s already caught firmly in his iron-grip.

Tomura’s never been thoroughly interested in anyone. He finds most people completely mediocre and boring and unworthy of his attention. Humans were, in his eyes, a wretched, greedy, despicable type of creature. But… she, despite being human, bares a heart of pure gold. That’s humanity, he came to conclude. That urge to help, to comfort, that feeling of kinship, that lack of bloodlust and cruelty. She’s so human it reminded him of what humanity really is. Humanity beforesin. Human; without sick ambitions, without twisted ideals, without demented morals. Unlike the world. Unlike him. She’s golden.

It’s no good being as caring as her in world such as this, especially not if she’s going to be as generous with her affection as she so is. Tomura becomes addicted, dependent, rather quickly. And why not? He has the means to make her stay and the means to murder anyone who dare defy those wishes. So, he’ll remain dependent on her golden touch and her golden words. It would be impossible to let her go now, when she feels like pure absolution against him.

KEYWORDS: affectionate, compassionate, caring, thoughtful, sympathetic, considerate, generous

SHINSO HITOSHI CURIOSITY DESPITE PERIL

Hitoshi cares little for pretty things. Mostly because he doesn’t like wasting his time. He’s never been one for believing in the soft pleasures of the world. Love, being one of those things, has always been a fairytale unworthy of his attention, unworthy of his words. But, of course, there are times where even he feels lonely. And, though he enjoys being alone, no one enjoys feeling lonely. But… Hitoshi’s ever the stubborn guy. He will not bend to the pathetic pulls of his heartstrings. No, if he’s ever going to fall in love, love better come to him. And, that’s exactly what happens. A magnitude of expressive emotions that demand his attention takes him by the nape of his neck, storming his heart into surrender. She’s obviously oblivious to her effects on him, but he rather prefers it that way. Studying her in her natural state.

She’s so very colorful; as in quirky, flamboyant, creative, artsy. A plethora of a thousand devastating, split-second passions. She’s everything he didn’t even know that he wanted, needed in fact. A woman of substance, a woman who breathes chaos. Both to balance out his grim resolution and sobriety, but also to… feed his insatiable gluttonous need for control, because… chaotic, brazen and wild minds are the easiest to exploit, when at the same time they never dull or tire or break. Bendable and therefore mendable.

What more humored Hitoshi, when first meeting his darling, was her fearlessness, or perhaps recklessness; that strange type of unrivaled curiosity that seemed to outweigh any viable threats of danger; gullibility. The fact that she just spoke to him so effortlessly, trusting him; carelessly, despite knowing of the nature behind his quirk. How she so blatantly became his friend, with no ill will or scrutiny in her personality or attitude toward him whatsoever. It’d been so long since he’d come across that same type of idealism and good nature; that childlike innocence. To say that it took him by surprise would be an understatement. He didn’t know what to make of it at first; if to believe it was downright foolishness or daringly haughty and playful. How she held herself so carelessly around him, coaxing him instead of walking on thin ice like everyone else did. Just… talking to him. Talking and talking about nothing and everything, as though she wasn’t in any type of danger whatsoever. Talking to him as though she had nothing to fear. Talking to him as though he weren’t a threat. Talking. Just talking.

Her compulsive behavior and knack for taking risks works so well with his desires. Where she´s incapable of controlling herself, he would love to do it for her. But… there’s more to it than just that. She’s so good at talking. So much so he hardly wants to take advantage of her answers. She’s like a treasure-trove that hands out their treasure willingly. Not just responsive, but talkative on her own and unreserved with her words as well. Even asking questions of her own; curious and invested. In him? How could he pass her up?

It’s true it didn’t pain him as much as he probably would have wanted it too when he betrayed her trust. But, despite Hitoshi not being delusional, he still manages to blame her for it. He argues she must have wanted him to take advantage of her. She knew every step of the way what could happen when she answered his questions time and time again, yet she never took any safety measures to avoid it. That carelessness. It was almost as though she was coaxing him, teasing him, begging him to take control. Why not oblige her wishes?

KEYWORDS: foolish, reckless, careless, compulsive, frivolous, colorful, creative, passionate, brazen, haughty, responsive, trusting, gullible, curious, playful, adventurous, expansive, unreserved, talkative

TAMAKI KEIGO DEFIANCE UNDER INTIMIDATION

Keigo’s a simple guy. A simple guy with simple desires. He likes pretty things, plural. He collects them. Pretty things upon pretty things upon new pretty things. And because Keigo’s popular with the public, he doesn’t exactly need to chaseanyone in order to get what he wants. People come to him. He will have someone one night and move on to someone else the next day. Which is why being pretty isn’t enough to make him thoroughly interested. For him to become invested, the pursuit has to pose as a challenge. A hunt, and not just for any pretty little thing, but for a pretty little monster.

As explained: Keigo’s a simple guy. A simple guy with simple goals. However, when one of his supposed simple goalsturns out to be a much harder goal than expected, causing a ripple in his otherwise perfect streak, it’s enough to drive the bird… let’s say… a little bit kooky. What Keigo hangs up on when meeting his soon-to-be-darling is her uniqueness, or… rather her reluctance. Her defiance. That wrinkle between her brows in her otherwise gorgeous face. Something so pretty, so petite, so small, but so very hostile and beastly at the same time. So very feisty and stubborn and defensive. Batting off his charm as though it were the plague. Protective of herself despite his reputation, in fact: seeming irreverent over his obvious status. Viewing all his efforts as though he were setting some type of trap; animalistic in her ways too, never feeling like polishing her brash attitude even when regarding him of all people, one of the top five highest ranking heroes. Looking through his seemingly harmless flirtatious nature and seeing something that alarmed her. He quite enjoyed it all.

She’s just so different from the rest of his pursuits. She’s a game he can’t seem to win. It’s frustrating, maddening even, yet somehow it is the only thing that makes him feel alive. The outright rejection should have been humbling, should at least have been accepted, but Keigo saw no reason to back down, he only saw reason to try harder. Which he did.

Life had become boring lately, being one of the top heroes. He has everything. Or… he had everything. Her defiance is refreshing. It acts as a reminder, his animalistic instincts kicking in. Finally feeling the odd yet pleasurable thirst for hunting simmering through his veins. He’s used to tapping into that raw impulse when catching villains, but he had yet to experience the carnal desire for finding a mate. It soon becomes a little overwhelming. A little domineering. Fending off his better judgement. It’s easy to forget how wrong it is to take pleasure in her tears, when the smell of fear has scented the air. It’s easy to forget how twisted it is for him to enjoy seeing her cower away from him, when it’s so easy to win the fight.

He’s a predator, she’s prey. In a way… it isn’t really wrong at all.

KEYWORDS: hostile, defensive, stubborn, feisty, reluctant, rebellious, irreverent, liberal

MIDORIYA IZUKU ALTRUISM IN THE FACE OF CORRUPTION

Izuku finds ways to appreciate every physique he comes across. It’s all in the details; minor, minuscule details. Both flaws and perfections alike interest him to a near clinical degree. However, because of this knack for observation, most people, in all their peculiarities and intricacies, still tend to blend into one. But, there are exceptions: heroes. Izuku’s been drawn to heroes all his life. Admiring their strength, their sense of justice and honor. Herodom is something he’s always aspired to become. Something he wished to achieve. Which he did. What Izuku seeks now is a partner with those same aspirations. Izuku can only find love in kinship. With a person similar to him. It’s a twisted type of narcissism he cannot bring himself to describe, one probably adopted from Katsuki, through many years of having a festering sick adoration and glorification of the childhood friend, one which ultimately resulted in Izuku mirroring more and more of Kachan’squalities, however in a much more demented fashion.

Unlike the others, Izuku’s been hellbent with the idea of sharing his life with a significant other. And he’s nothing if not a planner, he’s been searching for his perfect darling for years. And there wasn’t much, if anything, that would change his mind once he found her.

Just like he once was, his darling is quirkless, but still prop-full of that unrelenting ambition. Selflessness as well is another attribute as to why she was chosen. He is a bit of a sap for nostalgia, you see. She reminds him of his young self. That type altruistic generosity without expecting anything in return. She’s so innocently and hopelessly idealistic; dreamy… naïve. He finds it endearing in some sick sense: how the world chews her up and spits her back out again. He’ll want to deny it. But he can’t resist the sadistic enjoyment found in her struggle. He feels the need to save her from herself, because he knows better than anyone that her kind-heartedness will only get the best of her, like it did him in the end. He won’t let the same fate befall her. He’ll have to be a bit selfish with her though, despite it being the exact thing he’s trying to defeat. He needs to be selfish in order to protect her. It’s in both of their best interest really. The world won’t drink her dry, there’ll be more for Izuku to cherish and she’ll be safe and sound and perfect forever.

He can’t help his less appealing sides. Despite how much he loathes feeling those disgusting self-righteous desires, despite how unwelcome those thoughts are… he can’t seem to rid himself of them. It’s frustrating because he truly loves his darling, he wants to protect them, to cherish them, but on the lesser charming side of himself he feels superior, where instead of them belonging with each other, she belongs to him, for him, where she has no right to refuse his wishes. Because he’s achieved the title of God, and she’s still human… his human, his doll.

KEYWORDS: sense of justice, heroic, honorable, selfless, altruistic, ambitious, dreamy, idealistic, silly, awkward

CHISAKI KAI HUMILITY DESPITE HARDSHIP

Kai is corrupt, hypocritical, established, impatient, entitled and most of all white-gloved. Love seemed too hopeless a goal for a guy of his stature and perfectionism. But, alike with Hitoshi, chaos seemed to sweep him into a whirlwind of graceless, peaceful wilderness. A pull so vehement he couldn’t simply ignore it. At first, he dimmed his interest down to the simple fact that she was quirkless; clean. Quirkless people are a minority. Not only is she a treasure fit for the yakuza boss, but she’s also spared the ghastliness and depravity and corruption of carrying a quirk. But, her lack of quirk soon dimmed in the light of her other qualities. For the more he observed the more he unraveled about the chaotic nature of the beautiful creature he’d found.

Opposites attract. This is true for everyone, but not as literarily as for Kai. Not only is she clean in the sense of being quirkless, but also in the sense of being humble and sweet; lacking in sin. Her morality hits him as a surprise, it being refreshing in a sense he hadn’t ever felt before. He is so very used to taking what he wants with zero regard towards anyone or the possible consequences of his actions. What worse: never even once feeling content or satisfied with his reaping. Serving himself and himself alone has always been Kai’s mindset, where he never once expects anyone to act any differently than him. Humans are greedy creatures after all, yet… his darling seems overly at peace with her life, rather preoccupied with her surroundings to even so much as think about her own desires. He finds it enraging at first, but then peculiar, daunting even, and then endearing.

Their differences exceed his expectations time and time again. Where he is the epitome of modernity, hygiene and laundered health, she was the embodiment of wilderness. Where he was white-gloved, she was green-fingered. Unafraid of getting her hands dirty with soil; gardening. A pastime he was thoroughly disgusted with, yet she seemed to do it with such ease, such effortlessness, such peace, such happiness. He was astounded each time he saw how delicately, respectfully, she treated her surroundings, unlike him who trod as though he owns the very earth beneath his feet. Her life was messy, but she seemed to have no qualms with the fact. Quite the opposite actually; thriving in her chaos, appreciative of what little she had. He came to understand that it wasn’t so much her life that was messy but she herself. Her, in all her clumsy, forgetful and graceless peace, was in desperate need of correction, guidance, restraint, something he would eagerly fulfill her with in his determined and stoic reform. She’ll be the peak of humanity once he’s done with her. Though it proves difficult due to her forgetfulness and lack of heed, none of his lessons ever really sticking. But he comes to adore that quality as well, knowing full well her intention is not to anger him. If anything, her oblivious nature and childlike negligence only calls for his protection even further.

Kai isn’t usually a curious guy, especially when it comes to singular human beings, but he quickly discovered, or came to the conclusion, that his darling is far from being any regular human being. She is his opposite, his polar opposite. Humble, pure, passionate, everything he is in dire need of. She will complete him, she just needs to accept that.

KEYWORDS: humble, earthy, peaceful, disorderly, chaotic, messy, disorganized, graceless, grateful, appreciative, clumsy, forgetful

TODOROKI SHOTO PASSION TRANDSCENDING SORROW

Shoto had no thoughts containing that of love or attraction. Being a rather platonic guy in any relationship he ever ventured, never feeling any carnal desires or things similar to it. His appetite for such things rather quenched in light of the ruins that make up his parent’s marriage. However, once he met her, he knew instantly. Embers of a dying fire finding new life. She was perfection; messy, clumsy, zany perfection. She possessed everything he didn’t have. That type of lustfor life that always seemed to slip past him. It’s mesmerizing to behold someone so drunk on living, it distracted him from feeling so empty. Perhaps she could teach him? Perhaps she could share? Share some of that passion she possesses, that wild, vivid, fervent, unrelenting, brazen, wanton passion.

Shoto’s just so taken aback, as though swiftly swept off his feet, faceplanting into a rainbow-tinted world, a world so intense and so very loud. It was so perplexing, the amount of energy all cooped up into that small being. She reminded him of a storm, yet she was far from being violent or deadly. She was just so bubbly, so very livid, as though life were a constant parade.

He knew he loved her once their first encounter let up, feeling as though he’d been robbed of something, something he had no problems being robbed of.

He’s used to people having ulterior motives, but everything about her intense, unabashed, completely earnest dorkiness was so very honest. So candid and cheerful in her queries, jabs and jokes. And though he might not have understood half of the jests she came with, the sound of her laughter more or less made up for the fact, ever pleasant and euphoric as it was as she boldly cracked herself up with her own tales and even finding an immense form of amusement in the slight shift of his otherwise plain features. Question upon question leapt from her mouth, about his appearance, his past, his thoughts for the future. He’d half the mind to tell her she was his future, but he managed to contain himself. Seeming patient when she didn’t quite extract a response from him, happily helping with explaining anything he might have had questions about too, never once finding his curiosity odd, never once passing judgement. She droned on as though they’d been friends for a lifetime.

Now they’d be each-others for the rest of their lifetime. He’d make sure by mixing their natures, marveling at how she reacts to him and his quirks. He finds it quite educating, how her spirit never seems to break, but rather bends or resurfaces even stronger than before. It’s beautiful. She is so colorful, breathtaking, so much so it makes him appreciate breathing. Everything she does is executed with the outmost maximum effort, never doing anything half-way. He wishes he had the same drive, the same fire, but he remains so cold and lifeless compared to her. When she laughs, she cries. When she screams, she dances. When she moans, she sings. He wishes he could imitate the same spirit she carries.

He’s envious of her, but… at least she belongs to him now. All her passion being his to devour. Besides, if she shares her hearts secrets to unlocking passion, there’s no end to what he can teach her regarding what it’s like to suffer.

KEYWORDS: cheerful, optimistic, spirited, passionate, colorful, droll, comical, clumsy, silly, whimsical, zany, honest, candid, forgiving, helpful, patient

[duchesschameleon]

what if - chapter 8

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader words: 1929 a/n: Carolyn is here! this is the second to last chapter and we get some happiness and some angst. I’m super, super excited to share this with everyone!! the last chapter still needs some editing, it’ll get posted probably next week! as always, thank you to @qvid-pro-qvo​ for being the best beta

warnings: angst, some discussions of death

what if masterlist

You watch Dave’s face as for the first time in nearly 50 years, he lays eyes on Carolyn Bartolini. His jaw drops in surprise, face full of disbelief and wonder as he takes in the sight of Carolyn approaching on her horse.

“Oh my god,” Dave whispers, slowly moving closer to Carolyn as if being pulled by a magnet. She pulls on the reins, coming to a stop and you finally get a good look at her face. She’s aged gracefully, you can see the ghost of the girl she was from the photos Dave showed you. Right now her face is mirroring Dave’s shock as she slides down from the horse and approaches him.

“Dave,” she whispers, stepping closer to him. “Is it really you?”

“Si, Caro,” Dave says, coming the distance between them and grabbing her hands. “It’s me.”

Aaron’s standing next to you, watching Dave and Carolyn reconnect, watching their eyes search the others’ faces and seeing the changes from nearly 50 years apart. You don’t notice the tension between you and Aaron, the tension still lingering from last night's kiss. You’re too focused on Dave and Carolyn as they smile at each other.

“I’m a little late, Caro,” Dave says, voice thick with emotion and you can picture the tears welling in his eyes.

“You’re here now, that’s what matters,” Carolyn responds.

And then they’re kissing. It’s chaste, but you can see how tightly they’re holding on to each other, needing that contact to believe they’re together again. When they part, they’re still smiling and then Dave is turning, beckoning to Aaron and you.

“Caro, I need to introduce some people to you,” Dave says, shifting so he’s standing next to her, arm around her shoulders. He gestures to Aaron and smiles broadly. “This is Aaron Hotchner, he’s a dear friend and basically family, and he insisted on coming here to find you with me.” Aaron goes to shake Carolyn’s hand and she laughs, pulling him into a hug instead and kissing him on both cheeks. The tips of Aaron’s ears are red and you bite back a laugh, focusing instead on Dave who’s introducing you now. “- a writer, from New York, who wrote the letter that convinced me to come here and find you,” he’s saying, smiling softly at you.

Carolyn kisses you on both cheeks as she hugs you too, holding on to your arms as her expression conveys the thanks she cannot say. You nod and pat her hand, silently telling her you understand.

She turns back to Dave, taking his hand and smiling at him. “You all have to stay for lunch. You have to meet my family, and I want to hear about yours,” she says, nodding at each of you. You smile weakly, and catch Aaron looking at you from the corner of your eye. But you ignore him, instead nodding at Carolyn.

Carolyn’s family comes up to her, trying to figure out what’s going on. She’s explaining in rapid Italian, hands gesturing to you, Aaron, and Dave and then her daughter is nodding, catching on and moving to bring you all to the big house.

There’s a large table out behind the house, on a little covered patio. The Bartolini’s settle around it, leaving space near Carolyn’s spot at the head for you, Dave, and Aaron. There’s an impressive spread of food on the table, plus wine, and you all tuck in to lunch, getting to know each other over the food.

Once you’ve all had a chance to eat and get to know each other, Carolyn stands up and gets her family’s attention. “Mi famiglia, today I went on a ride as an old woman, and came back a teenager.” She pauses as everyone around the table chuckles. “Truly though, it’s been the greatest gift to have Dave come back here and to have him meet all of you, and for us to have met Aaron and their wonderful friend who is responsible for all of this,” she continues, gesturing to each of you as she talks. After a moment, she starts up again, “Dave, you have told me that you lost your Hayden, and you know that I have lost my Giovanni,” she says, voice wavering with emotion, “but destiny wanted us to meet again. Grazie destino.”

Everyone echoes the sentiment as Carolyn sits back down and grabs Dave’s hand. They haven’t let go of each other for more than a few moments since they saw each other. It’s sweet, seeing them reconnect and hang on to one another. Seeing that physical manifestation of love that’s lasted over the years.

“Caro,” Dave says quietly, “I’m sorry I was late.”

She smiles softly at him, “No, no. When we are talking about love, you can never be late.”

You smile at them before turning back to your plate. Lunch finishes not long after that, the younger children congregating in the yard to kick around a soccer ball. You see Carolyn and Dave wander towards the fields hand in hand and you smile as you sink down into a chair, a warm feeling spreading through your chest.

At least someone gets a happy ending, and you can finally finish your story. And then go back to New York, hopefully get your piece published, and move on to the next story. No more seeing Aaron, no more seeing Dave, this whole trip fading into a simple memory. You blow out a sigh, staunchly ignoring the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“Well, there’s your ending, huh?” Aaron says, walking up from behind your chair. You twist to look at him, a confused look on your face. “Just when all hope is lost, she rides in at the last minute on a white horse. Who’s gonna believe that?” Aaron asks, running a hand through his hair. You shrug, still so uncertain what to say to him after last night. After you just walked away. Before you can even open your mouth to attempt to say something, anything, about it, Aaron’s walking around to sit on the table in front of you. He says your name urgently, immediately grabbing your full attention. “Promise me you’ll finish the story. It needs to be shared, and your writing deserves to be seen,” he says, voice full of conviction.

“Of course,” you whisper, nodding. Aaron nods too, wiping his hands on his slacks.

After a moment he lets out a breath and meets your eyes. “So I guess this is it. And I’m sorry it is.”

“I guess it is.” You lick your lips, still searching for the words to explain last night but again, Aaron beats you to it again.

When he says your name this time, there’s a weight to it, sincere feelings behind it. “I, I never should have kissed you last night,” he says, glancing down at his hands. You control your face, trying not to let it crumple and show your disappointment. “I was completely out of bounds, you’re still grieving and I’m-” He clears his throat and runs his palms over his knees. “Well, I shouldn’t have done it.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat and nod in understanding, even passing agreement. Of course, he’s not actually interested in you. It was a spur of the moment thing. Something that never should have happened. No matter how much you want it to happen again, no matter how hard your heart clenches when you look at Aaron.

So you do what you have to. You look back up at Aaron, meet his eyes, and say, “I guess it’s time to go then.” And then you’re pressing a kiss to his cheek and standing, walking away without looking back, again. Ignoring the tears forming, again.

You focus on Carolyn and Dave, who have come back from the fields, and jog up to them. “Hi,” you say smiling tightly at them, “I, uhm, I need to get back to Verona. My flight to New York -”

“Oh, of course! I’ll have Aaron take the car, we’ll get you back, no worries,” Dave says, moving to untangle himself from Carolyn but you’re shaking your head.

“No, no, Dave, I can’t take you away from this place,” you protest, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “You should stay here, you and Aaron. This is what you came here for anyway.”

Carolyn steps forward, putting a hand on your shoulder. “My son can drive you. It’s no worries,” she says and you nod your thanks, finding it hard to speak. She squeezes your shoulder before unwinding her arm from around Dave’s waist and searching for her son.

Dave puts his hands on your arms as he searches your face, noticing the tears in your eyes threatening to fall. “Is something wrong?”

You shake your head, “No, it’s just,” you shrug and glance around your surroundings, “all of this is...” you trail off unable to find the words.

“I know,” he whispers, bringing you in for a hug. “An angel brought you to me,” he says, kissing your cheeks. You smile wetly, and he wraps an arm around your shoulder, walking you towards the front of the house. Carolyn and her son are already there, grabbing your bag from the rental car and moving it into theirs.

You hug Carolyn, kiss her cheeks, and thank her as you climb into the passenger seat. Dave waves goodbye as he wraps an arm around Carolyn again and hugs her close. And then your door is closed and the car is moving, Dave and Carolyn waving to you as they grow smaller in your vision, going blurry as the tears finally fall.

Back at the house, Dave looks around Carolyn to see Aaron walking towards them. He kisses Carolyn’s temple and then stands next to him. “Aaron, we’re practically family so I think you understand why I’m telling you you’re an idiot.”

Aaron whips his head towards Dave, brow furrowed. “Sure, don’t sugarcoat it Dave,” he grumbles, arms crossed.

“I won’t,” Dave says. “You don’t know where this one will end up settling. Don’t wait 50 years to get your head out of your ass like I did.”

Dave’s words slowly register with Aaron. He realizes what Dave is saying, is telling him, and it hits him instantly. He’s fallen for you. He’s in love with you. Aaron springs into action, running to the car and driving off after you.

Halfway to Verona, Aaron thinks about what he’s doing. About what he’ll say when he finds you. He looks around to the empty seat next to him. Or almost empty. There’s a pen there, one that fell out of your bag this morning. He pulls over to the side of the road and picks it up, holding it reverently in his hand. The only piece of you in this car, the only evidence you’d been here at all. 

He sighs, the realization washing over him. He can’t follow you to Verona, can’t think of anything he could say to you. Can’t think of anything except how you’ve already walked away from him twice. He can’t risk you walking away again, not with Jack to think about. You’re heading back to New York, he’s going back to DC and will probably never leave. Even if he had proof that you did like him, that you love him the way he loves you, he can’t risk putting Jack through that, much less himself.

So he sighs and turns the car around, heading back to Carolyn’s.

taglist: @qvid-pro-qvo @averyhotchner @kelstark @hurricanejjareau @oreogutz @whentheautumnleavesfall​ message me to be added to the taglist!

[ofmanytxngues]

You would think after her experiences that she would be hesitant to turn out the lights. Funny how a little trauma can bring out the opposite in a person. She sought the dark depths, no longer able to enjoy swimming in the shallow end. The days of drifting beneath the surface of the water and watching the light reflect were long gone.

How long has she been sinking for? How many years?

There’s a murkiness that surrounds her now. Imprinted within her like a stubborn stain upon her favorite shirt. It eats at everything - whatever she grows within herself becomes lessened by it, as though it would rather see her void. Is this what the sun feels like - eclipsed by the moon? Or is she the Earth, swallowed within its shadow for but a moment in time until the next comes around?

It’s hard to say what she is ever since she discovered the corpses of children she once knew. Ever since her body became marred in angry red streaks and bruises that once blossomed and then died. These scarred hands that shake when all else think them to be steady; something in her screaming to go no further but she reaches out yet still for something more. Something dangerous. Because while the hurt scares her plenty it’s the unknowing that is worse.

They call her chaos and she doesn’t know if they are right. Fate and Destiny seem far crueler than any chaos she has ever known and the girl cannot help but wish to be held by the discordance of a melody others would hear as noise but she hears as a song.

She runs, she chases that which others avoid seeing. SHOW ME! The girl begs, she screams because she needs more. Like she needs the dark. The flip of a switch doesn’t scare her. The things that exist there don’t frighten her. She welcomes them to make themselves known because she has to know if this scar or that scar or any of the lives stolen away, cut short, destroyed, was worth the suffering and loss.

Stress eats away at her as she sinks her fingers into her hair, pulling slightly to tilt her own head. Walks rarely help but it beats pacing around her car or whatever small abode she has decided to crash in.

Many think her unwise to walk the streets late at night; to wander beneath flickering lamps that illuminate the bare minimum, as if to give some respite. They do not know of this calling that echoes from the depths of her, that demands to be heard. It beckons her this way and that way but everywhere she goes she finds herself turning in circles. Like a compass that can’t stop spinning.

Nights like these are the worst. Mind full, a chill in her bones no matter the season - weary, tired, needing something but uncertain as to what. She wanders the night, she tempts fate and she looks for hope in the dimmest of places. The only locations that make any lick of sense to her now.

Her hands shove deep into her pockets as if to bury herself from the world. For someone that fears death she so often felt six feet under, screaming from within a coffin never to be heard. The only thing that seems to make sense is finding herself ankle deep upon the bank of a lake, a beach, a river - to stand within a creek, even, and listen to the water churn. She was a child of air whose wings had been clipped young, left to fend against the current or drown. But it’s at the water’s edge that she finds peace in the most unusual way - in a manner that is unique only to her.

Tired as she may be, the girl smiles faintly - watching the sunrise and the shimmering light that reflects off the surface of the ocean. Long nights didn’t have to make for long days. That which hurt her in the dark did not have to rule the night. Though she faced (and still faces) her trial by fire it did not mean the rising sun would scorch her. All these things were true and all of them allowed her breathe another day.

[moistmailman]

Breath of the Wild AU part 3

*Peaceful quietness surrounds the ruins of hyrule’s castle*

*.....until the telltale sound of a guardian blaster charging up is heard*

*BEEP.....BEEP.....BEEP...BEEP..BEEP BEEP*

Pyrrha: *bursts through a room and quickly takes cover behind a wall*

Pyrrha: *panting*

*The sound of the guardian charging slowly goes away and everything becomes quiet*

Pyrrha: *sighs in relief*.......*internally* what am I doing here? Stupid guardian is blocking the place where the picture is showing me— Huh?

*Pyrrha looks around the room curiously*

Pyrrha, internally: Wait...oh, I think this is the Princess’ study chambers, isn’t it? Goddess, it’s hardly recognizable now.

*Pyrrha approaches the desk and looks around the room*

Pyrrha, internally: Yeah, this is most definitely Ilia’s room. Her favorite flower is even here. How the heck did something as delicate as this survive in here?

*Very carefully Pyrrha plucks the flower and examines it, fond forgotten memories of her and Ilia resurfacing, causing a smile to form on her lips*

Pyrrha, internally:.........Hmm? Wait, what’s this?

*Pyrrha puts the flower into her satchel before picking up a small book, which was layered in dust*

Pyrrha, internally: This doesn’t look like one of her research books, granted I don’t actually remember how her research books even look like. Still, looks way too small to be one.

*Pyrrha blows off the book, causing a cloud of dust to surround her, making the redhead cough for a few seconds before it dispense*

Pyrrha, internally: Wait......is this.....oh goddess.....

*It finally dawned on Pyrrha that what she had in her hands was Princess Ilia’s diary, which was still in readable condition*

Pyrrha, internally: Oh my Hylia. I can’t believe it. I didn’t even know the princess even had a diary, *flips through the pages quickly* much less write in it a lot. Well, I guess I did lose my memory, so that might be the reason.

*Pyrrha gently places the diary back down, before staring at it, almost hearing it beckoning her to read it*

Pyrrha, sweating:............*internally* No! What am I thinking?! I can’t do that! *shakes head* It’s wrong, and an invasion of privacy! I can’t believe I would even think that! I gotta get out of here!

*Pyrrha turns away and quickly walks out of the room, being wary of the guardian looming around the tower*

*The sound of her footsteps are heard fading away in the background......before suddenly they are heard again getting closer*

Pyrrha, walking back in: *internally* What��s the harm in reading one entry in here? I mean, it wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? Heck, it might even help me with my memories. I’m just going to read one entry and that’s it! Promise!

*1 hour and 20 entries later*

Pyrrha, completely engrossed in the diary: *internally* Just one more entry, and that’s it. (Said that the last 19 times)

Ilia’s diary: I’ve came to a realization about knight Nikos. In a lot of ways we are very much alike. We both never had any resemblance of a normal happy childhood, but instead of a duty. Pyrrha was the best swordwoman in the rankings at the mere age of 12. Most people thought of that as amazing, but I saw it differently. I saw it as someone who spent their entire childhood with a sword in hand, training until they could barely stand.

*Pyrrha flips solemnly flips the page, some memories of her childhood, or lack of, resurfacing*

Ilia’s diary: I was so focused on the weight of my destiny weighing on my shoulders that I failed to realize that she was on the same forsaken boat as me. I can’t imagine the anxiety Pyrrha must feels about all of this, especially since she refuses to actually speak with me; not that I blame her for the way I treated her. Most people see her as the savior of hyrule that is fearless and honorable, and I’m certain she wants people to think that to keep the peace. But her eyes tell me a different tale. They show me that she’s scared of failing everyone. Of not being strong enough to fulfill her destiny, believing that maybe she shouldn’t be the one to fight Cinder. She likes to pretend it doesn’t effect her but I know Winter’s words have an effect on her.

*Pyrrha flips the page again, knowing exactly what Ilia was talking about*

Ilia’s diary: Despite how everyone sees Pyrrha as this unbreakable knight that cant fail, (minus Winter of course) I see a very human girl that is at war with herself rather she is good enough for her role in this part. And I can relate to that a lot. I should really lighten up on her, and give her a break. We’re on the same boat of destiny, and we need to get along. Perhaps I can try to have her open up? Maybe see if she has any hobbies we could partake in? Don’t know what she might like though? Maybe cooking? Who knows?

*That was the last page of the entey*

Pyrrha, clenching the table, determined: *internally* Don’t worry, Princess. I’m going to save you and all of Hyrule, and afterwards I’m going to take you up on that cooking offer.

*Pyrrha smiles before flipping the page again, deciding read yet another one more entry*

Ilia’s diary: I’ve came to a realization that makes me feel guilty for writing about but I can’t take it anymore! Knight Nikos has a very great ass.

*Pyrrha chokes on her spit before picking the diary and practically gluing her nose to it*

Ilia’s diary: I know I shouldn’t stare at it, she’s my knight, but I just help myself. It’s just so perfect! Like a heart! I can’t take it! It’s the reason why I take suspiciously long showers. Hylia forbid Pyrrha ever find out! It gets even worse though! Everyone knows that I sewn the champion’s tunics, but they don’t know that I also made Pyrrha’s pants, which I made a size too small for her just so I can stare at her butt! Am I a bad person for doing this?! All I want is her to sit on my fa—

*Pyrrha slams the butt shut, her face matching her hair*

Pyrrha, out loud: Oh boy! Oh gosh! I read too much! I shouldn’t have done that! I shouldn’t have done that! I-I should g-go! Just go now!

*Pyrrha quickly climbs on the table before jumping out and gliding into Hyrule field*

Pyrrha, gliding: Why did I do that?! Why did I do that?! ThT was wrong! That was so wrong! Oh god....wait, please tell me the princess isn’t watching me! Please t-tell me that she isn’t watching......*looks in the sky* I’m a-sorry!

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, cloudburst-ink!

For @cloudburst-ink <3

Read On AO3

*****

Shards Of Winter

The high croon of whipping winds and the frosty chill of the night air signal the beginning of winter on a normally quiet Thursday evening for Alec Lightwood.

Sat by the window, warm forehead pressed to the contrast of cold glass that spreads a delightful tremble down his spine, Alec watches the night descend with the twinkle of stars in the sky and flutters of snowflakes on their way from high above. It’s a sight he cherishes every year, a new snowfall, a new story, a new adventure.

A new chance to find his soulmate.

Faded, but still there on his wrist lies his soulmark, a pale white snowflake with a blush of blue on the branches. Someone out there, perfectly complementary in all the way he hopes, in all the ways he imitates late in the evening when the desires for touch and the longing of love overcome him. The press of fingers against his skin, the chilling voice that whispers ice against his ears and wracks his body with tremors, the almost forgotten flash of glowing green that still lingers in the back of his mind. It calls to him on nights like this, the first snowfall, and Alec knows they’re connected.

It has to be magic that pulls him in. Magic, in all it’s raw and delightful glory, slithers in tendrils around each finger, digit by digit until it’s grasping at his wrist and pulling him out into the night.

And this is no different, because where the warmth of his body heat had pressed against him and soothed the cold now swishes frosty air in the emptiness as he stands out in the falling snow, beckoned by the call of hope.

Hope, the kind to summon light from the darkest of days, the same one that fuels every action and choice. The same hope that he holds close to his heart that he’ll find his soulmate soon, that they’re closer this year than the last. The same kind of hope that so many people in his small town have lost for him because of the way his mark fades against the white of his skin more and more every year.

But their thoughts don’t matter to Alec, and instead of dwelling on the worries of others that have already been matched, he sets his eyes up to the sky and lets the vision of snowflakes calm the physical manifestations of the cold from his body.

Out here he feels free. Encased in the silent affection of what’s meant to be, surrounded by the delicate winter that presses the first cold kiss to his cheek. A droplet slides down the side of his face as it dissolves into wetness, and then another against his nose. Eyes fall shut, the flutter of lashes as a snowflake descends gently onto it, a succession of loving pecks along his greedy skin that soaks it all up.

A whistle then, a trilling melody that the snowfall sings to him, and a hum as Alec sings along.

This feels right, this feels fated. It feels magical.

Eyes flutter open, hazel to absorb the blinding white that drifts closer and closer still. 

Time seems to halt in the presence of magic, slowing to a blur. The snow trickles down, covers his vision until he feels it pierce his sight, feels it spread through his being and invade deep into his core. Magic, darker than the flash of snow, darker and heavier than the hope that spills out of him every morning and evening.

It doesn’t hurt, not until the confusion dissipates and leaves Alec feeling hollow and frozen. Only then does his eye twitch, and only then does he fall to his knees onto the damp grass before him with a cry of anguish and a hand to soothe the ache in his skull. 

But it doesn’t work. 

No matter how hard he digs blunt fingertips into his socket, or how tightly he curls his fist around the blades below him, the pain continues to pulse and gnaw.

It isn’t until his sister is calling his name and guiding him back into the house blindly that he starts to feel some relief, that the cold sunk deep in his bones seems to thaw with the heat of the fireplace.

---

When Alec awakes in the morning, it’s with a thudding migraine and aching joints that are only exacerbated by the scratchy sheets of his blanket. Water seems to fill his head, sloshing and drowning his thoughts until all he wants to do is paint the windows black so the harsh sunlight can’t sneak through the cracks and blind him further. 

His name, whispered softly from the opening of the door is still too loud, and his sister’s face greets him with worry. “Are you feeling any better?”

“No,” he manages, barely a croak. “I feel like shit.”

“What happened last night?”

A question he has no answer for, because if he’s being honest (and Alec is never anything but), he has no idea. “I’m not sure,” he shrugs, “the snow fell in my eyes.”

Izzy steps closer and tilts his chin up with uncertain fingers, examining any damage she may believe him to have suffered. Under any other circumstance, Alec would have let her. Usually his sister’s care for him makes his chest bloom with fondness, even if it borders on fussy and unnecessary. But this - this just feels wrong. Her fingers on his skin feel too warm and uncomfortable, the scrutiny in her gaze feels malicious and her gentle touches too rough. 

He pulls away in a rush and tries not to catch her frown in his peripheral. “Let me be, Izzy.”

“But Alec - “

“Go away!”

She doesn’t have to speak for him to feel the hurt that radiates off of her, and he doesn’t have to see her face to know it’s furrowed in confusion. But the part that triggers a spark of worry in the recesses of his mind is the lack of shame he feels in letting her leave the room like that. The lack of anything but callous indifference and low-burning annoyance.

---

The days that pass grow darker in Alec’s vision, days that once held a purpose and thoughts of a brighter future, a different future with the search of his soulmate, now hold stifling monotony.

He doesn’t want every day to be the same, he doesn’t want to sit around and wait for his soulmate to show up and whisk him away. He’s stronger than that. This small town filled with people’s pity and whispered gossip grate on him like the bright light of the sun that stings his eyes and he can no longer control the snap of snark from his lips when he comes across it.

Days are lonelier with Izzy keeping her distance, his only companion while Jace and Max are still visiting their parents. Even Lydia, his calm rock and pleasant tide of positivity in his day-to-day routine has kept him at an arm's length. Alec can’t blame her, it had only taken a half hour in her presence for him to realize the blind optimism and strict work ethic was bullshit and she was clearly trying to cover her own insecurity from losing a soulmate at such a young age. 

The world has changed for him, and if nobody else can see all the bad that really surrounds them, then is that really his fault? Just because people don’t want to open their eyes to the true nuisance that haunts them all in the form of ‘soulmates’, if they refuse to accept that dark magic is what weighs above them and promises true love… Is Alec the bad guy for seeing it all so clearly?

No, he won’t be ostracized for being the only one to see, the only one to really look.

---

Outside of his small home, the wind shrieks foreboding, boiling water in a kettle high and warning. But Alec won’t listen, because as the sole of his boot sinks into the crunch of white snow beneath him, he remembers the sparks of green from visions before. The hint of a voice he knows calling him out into the dark of night, out into the flurry of white that offers comfort from the life he thought he wanted. 

The winter, his favorite time of the year, the time that crooned hope into his dreams, that gave him visions of a future expected and believed, it pulls him close in its embrace. It wraps him up in freezing arms, a stoney embrace of what he knows and what he wants. The love he needs is here, following this path, and all Alec has to do is walk forward.

But something is pulling him back, something is planting his foot into the lush ground beneath.

Izzy.

A grip on his wrist, rough and tight against his skin where the sleeve of his glove and the hem of his jacket expose his soulmark. His sister tugs and tugs, but she makes no progress as Alec twists his arm from her grasp. 

“Alec, we’re in the middle of a blizzard, what are you doing?!”

“I don’t belong here,” he calls out, but Izzy either doesn’t hear his words, or she chooses to ignore them.

“You need to come back inside, you’re going to get hurt!”

Another step, another cry from his sister. He can hear her scrabbling behind him, can hear her hurried footsteps as she rushes to keep up with him. The woods are close now, another step and he’s breaching the top of the hill with his sister still fumbling in the cold behind him. He wonders if he remembers what it feels like to have worry or care, if he can pretend to feel these things for her now. 

But he doesn’t, not anymore. The only thing that fills the cavern of his heart is the cold winter, the helplessness of his destiny being lost on him, magic pulsing into his arteries and feigning life.

The further he goes into the woods, the louder the magic rushes through his ears. Izzy’s voice is no longer a distant wail in the background, now only the whizzing of snow pelting him sounds around him, and it’s almost too much.

Alec grips the bark of a tree, hard and snagging on the material of his gloves, but the support gives his shaky knees some relief. Just a little longer, just a little further. Keep going.

“Are you sure that’s really what you want to do?”

The twinkle of a voice chimes in the night, a mimicry of the snow in his visions. Alec turns left, then right, and then his eyes catch on shimmering green behind him. 

Is this… a dream? Is he asleep? Has he fallen into the snow and this is his last thought before he becomes frozen in the woods?

Elegant shimmering iridescence of a crystalline crown and swirling gold-green eyes contrasting the backdrop of night meet him first. Time seems to refuse passing in this presence, akin to the night Alec caught snow, and as much as he wants to drag his eyes away, to take in any other sort of threat or danger besides the freezing ice around him, he can’t.

“You’ll die out here if you keep on that path,” the presence calls out, and without a sound and unaffected by the blizzard around them, they step closer.

“I don’t care,” Alec murmurs, wondering if his voice gets lost in the howl of the wind. It must not, because as the figure steps close enough for Alec to make out any features, he’s rewarded with a beautiful face marred by a small frown tugging down on plump lips. 

And oh, what a change this is to feel anything other than emptiness inside of him. How different it is to feel a twist of attraction, to note that something in this world is beautiful, is deserving of his praise. Even if it is a stranger in the middle of a blizzard.

“You may not care, Alexander,” the man begins, traveling closer still until he’s standing in front of Alec. As tall as he wants to stand, as much as he’s used to towering over people he finds his weight shifting instinctively, he feels himself sinking into the slush beneath him. It’s cold and he feels the seeping chill in his bones, feels his teeth chattering of their own free will as he peers up at the glow of beauty before him. “But I do,” he whispers, bending down to press a single soft kiss to Alec’s welcoming lips. 

Warmth floods him, maybe not actual warmth, but the cold pulls from the deepest parts of him and fades away, releases itself through his pores and out of existence. Alec, chin tilted upwards and lips parted, opens the eyes he hadn’t even realized he had closed. 

Those eyes smile down at him, a hypnotic swirl Alec longs to get lost in. Maybe he does, he’s not sure how long he’s on the ground for, he doesn’t even feel the throb in his knees from extended use. But there’s a fluttering in his hair now, cold fingers that press against his scalp and twirl around strands, and Alec can’t help but lean into the touch, so starved from weeks of anger and animosity towards anyone who would ever come near him.

“Who are you?”

The fingers in his hair don’t stop, but trail lower to brace the delicate point of his chin and tilt his head to the side. A gentle puff of air brushes against the side of his face and Alec struggles to contain the shivers that tremble down his body. 

“Magnus.”

Alec tastes the word on his tongue, feels the tingle as he says it aloud with reverence. Magnus, he wants to say again. Magnus, please.

A rush travels through him, blood working in overtime to keep him warm, to keep him alive, and it overcomes his mind. “Close your eyes,” Magnus hums above him, and Alec listens. “Let’s take you home.”

Alec wants to protest, but when he opens his lips he’s silenced with a calming finger. Sleep descends on him then in the cold night, and the last thing he feels is the press of Magnus’ long white winter coat soft against his skin, sheltering him from the frostbite that threatens to take him.

---

Sleep doesn’t come easy for Alec.

It’s not that the plush luxuriousness of the bed he finds himself in is uncomfortable. On the contrary, it’s far superior than the bed he left back home. What nips at him in the dark midnight is the fact that he left his only sister struggling in the cold, and he still feels nothing.

Confusion hits him, for where there remains a hole in his heart for compassion and guilt, it’s simultaneously filled with overwhelming growing attraction to Magnus, burning brighter and stronger than anything he’s ever felt before. 

But in his mind he knows how he should feel, he knows that he should think fondly of his sister and home, of his little town that he’s helped cultivate memories and a life. 

And yet… nothing.

---

Tomorrow comes and goes for Alec in the blink of an eye.

It’s a palace he finds himself in when he finally wanders out of his room to seek out Magnus, and to appease Alec’s curious eyes, Magnus takes him around the grounds. 

High ceilings and columns of glass fill his view, chandeliers made of ice, and windows stained with a myriad of blues, pinks and purples. Archways extend, stairs trail higher above and down below, and the view from the balcony is breathtaking when they make their way into the frosty air. It doesn’t feel real, it doesn’t look real, but somehow it is. Somehow this fantasy exists, and Alec would be remiss if he didn’t pinch himself for reassurance that this isn’t just an elaborate dream.

Even Magnus looks ethereal, with the crystal crown high on his head, pale blue eyeshadow around sparkling eyes and long muscled limbs that Alec can make out through the thin white he wears around the palace. Outside on the balcony however, he dons the same white winter coat Alec remembers the night before in the forest, lined with puffed white and a thin layer of shimmer that catches twinkling light when he moves. He looks regal.

“Where are we?” Alec hears himself asking as he leans against the railing overlooking hills and mountains covered in snow. 

“We’re in a realm that doesn’t exist to common folk, through a break in the mountains that magic keeps hidden. Sometimes those with the sight wander in, but for the most part only magic folk tend to traverse these parts.”

It’s all said matter-of-fact, with a wave of nonchalance that Alec wonders what he’s stumbled into.

“And who are you in all of this?”

Magnus turns to him with a disapproving frown. “Forgotten my name already, have you?”

Alec rolls his eyes and motions to the palace behind them with a wide gesture. “I mean in all of this, who are you?”

The frown doesn’t falter, instead stays firmly planted on Magnus’ face as he turns around to face the grandeur of his own palace. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of the Snow Queen,” Magnus starts, pausing only to wait for a nod of agreement from Alec. It’s been years, but he remembers the stories. “Her name was Lilith, this used to be hers until she was banished several hundred years ago. She ruled over the winters, she controlled the season and consequently became hungry with power. She would steal people in the blizzards, in the night when nobody would notice. But people eventually did notice. My father, particularly. He came to conquer her authority, and in the end he won.”

Magnus trails off for a moment, as if remembering. “Lilith, at the end of it all, was corrupted. She couldn’t see the good in what she had created anymore, couldn’t see anything that was just and fair. She only saw the dark, only saw what was ‘rightfully hers’, and didn’t care about maintaining secrecy. With her last breath in this realm she shattered her crystal staff and descended her darkness on those who she deemed vulnerable. Every year, the first snowfall leads to darkness for some, something only light magic can cure.”

The pain in Magnus’ voice feels tangible, and Alec has to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching out. “Is that what happened to me?”

A hum, soft and distant as though Magnus is in another place, and then a nod. “Yes,” he admits. “You fell prey to Lilith’s dark magic, despite my attempts to warn you.”

“Warn - warn me?” Alec stutters.

Magnus turns to face him fully then, eyes piercing and narrowed. “Was it not a warning every winter for you to stay away from the first snowfall?”

Like a sputtering fish, Alec’s lips fall open and shut, once, then twice. “So it was you?”

“Who else would it be?”

“I-I’m not… sure,” Alec shrinks into himself, shoulders hunched and eyes cast downward towards the snow below them. “I thought - I hoped it was you calling to me, trying to reach out and find me… my soulmate.”

Silence wraps around them, slow and gentle, prodding hope from where it sprouts back into life inside of Alec. Carefully, Magnus reaches over to run silver polished nails along Alec’s hand until he’s extending his palm face up.

“You’re right,” Magnus says softly, fingers tracing the pattern of the faded snowflake on Alec’s wrist. “I was trying to reach you, but I needed to keep you safe, Alexander. I wanted to warn you before it was too late, but I failed anyway. I wasn’t able to help you afterall.”

Alec frowns and turns to face Magnus, whose hands continue to trace his skin, entirely too distracting. “But you did. I felt the darkness, I lost hope, I - I stopped - “

Magnus silences him with a look. “I didn’t protect you like I wanted to, not fully. I messed up, and I’m paying the price for it now.”

“What price?”

A smile, so sad and full of answers fills Magnus’ features, and Alec wishes he could decipher it all, wishes he could ease the sorrow so prominent. “To see you, to have you so close, and know that this can never be. Not as long as I’m here.”

The desire to reach out and touch Magnus, to sink before him and beg him to let this be, to let Alec stay so they can be together is so strong that Alec has to forcibly grip the banister of the balcony to keep his hands in place. Magnus notices, of course he does, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

“Alexander,” he trails, glancing at the scene before them, the beautiful snow pristine and untouched on mountaintops no higher than the top of the palace. “As long as my father is still banished with Lilith to keep her at bay, I must stay here and watch over the winter.”

“Then I’ll stay with you,” Alec shrugs as if he’s solved the problem. “You’re my soulmate.”

Magnus sighs. “I can’t be, not anymore. Haven’t you noticed how faded your mark has become? It’ll disappear eventually, as long as I’m required. And no, you can’t stay here with me.”

“Why not?” Alec huffs, indignant.

“You have a family,” Magnus explains. “Your sister needs you.”

The guilt he knows should be there never manifests, the gnawing pulse of regret at leaving her behind, none of it forms inside of him. He had just left her, had just run away like a child angry at the world for not giving him what he wanted, angry for being vulnerable enough to fall victim whether he knew it or not. He wonders if he should voice these thoughts aloud, but he chooses not to.

“I need you,” he murmurs, pathetic even by his own standards.

Lightly, Magnus steps closer, offering a small hint of a smile through the stern look on his face. “You have me,” he says into the small space between them as he lifts a hand to Alec’s chest, pressing insistent fingers to the spot where his heart beats rapidly. “Right here, Alexander. Always.”

He wonders if it’s enough to keep Magnus in his heart, the soulmate he’s been waiting for, the other half of him he didn’t know he needed this much until now. He wonders if he can survive without him, without even knowing him more than the flimsy hours around the palace and on the balcony.

At the very least, he needs more time.

---

Magnus allows Alec a few days' time before he has to return home, and Alec soaks it all up in time spent at Magnus’ side. 

They talk about everything. Magnus explains light magic and dark magic, glosses over the bits he deems boring, and from there they develop different theories on how to free Asmodeus from Lilith’s banishment. Her dark shards from the snowfall still hold her power, and Magnus has theorized that destroying one of them would negate enough of her magic that Asmodeus may be able to escape her clutches. Without a way to test it, however, it remains just wishful thinking. 

So they turn to displays of magic, and Magnus delights in showing Alec small tricks with the flick of his wrist and flecks of glitter that fall to the ground when he snaps his fingers. Magnus, by all regards, is the most magical being Alec has ever seen in his life.

The only one, really, but that’s beside the fact. 

Magnus is… incredible. Perfect, even. Magnus tells him tales of witches and warlocks, tells him stories of the past and famous figures that Alec never knew existed, but can tell of their importance from just Magnus’ recounting. He finds himself hanging off of every word Magnus says, mooning after each sway of his hips in the thin material of his pants, and eyes stuck when his shirt falls open to reveal a sliver of the chest beneath.

Alec wants him, he realizes quickly. More than he’s wanted anyone or anything before. There’s a pull between them, undeniable when they stand close, and excruciating when they’re far apart in separate rooms. It’s unwise to think Magnus doesn’t feel it too, because if the wistful looks Magnus shoots his direction are anything to go by, he’s struggling to stay away just as much as Alec is. 

It’s on the last night Magnus has allowed them that Alec finds himself dropping to his knees in front of Magnus who sits before him on his throne of ice, a plea on his brow and a whimper on his lips. 

“Magnus, please,” he whispers, bowing his head.

“Please what, Alexander?”

The force and strength in Magnus’ voice sends a thrill down Alec’s spine, and he presses his palms into his knees to steady himself. “I need you,” he breathes. “I need more than this.”

The halls around them seem too quiet, an impossible hush befalling the empty palace with the sound of the hammering in his chest being the only noise in Alec’s ears. Finally, after several powerful seconds, Magnus stands before him. “Look at me.”

Immediately, Alec’s focus snaps up to Magnus above him, intoxicatingly beautiful. 

“Alexander,” Magnus says, the glowing pierce of his gold-green eyes penetrating Alec’s stare.

“Y-Yes,” he responds, breathless. 

“Stand up.”

Perplexed, Alec does as he’s told and rises  to his feet quickly. Magnus levels him with a stare that Alec can read clear as day in front of him. Confusion, anger, sadness, longing… All of it so apparent, so openly shown to him, and yet Magnus is resisting.

“You’re going home soon,” Magnus states.

Brow furrowed, Alec shakes his head. “I want to stay here with you.”

“Alexander,” Magnus sighs his name, exasperated in nature but still said in a way that makes Alec’s legs tremble. “You can’t. You belong back at home, you belong in the real world.”

“I belong with you,” Alec snaps, balling his fists at his side. “You’re my world.”

Stunned wide eyes peer back at him, and if Alec could feel anything other than this desperate longing for Magnus, he knows he’d feel embarrassed at his outburst. But he means it, he feels it. This is what he wants, what he needs, just Magnus. 

“Just,” he chokes on the word. “At least kiss me. Just once.”

At that, Magnus casts his gaze aside and frowns. “I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

A shake of his head, perfectly crafted strands of black and blue swaying with the motion, and then Magnus is stepping away from Alec. “I kissed you once, in the blizzard,” Magnus explains. “Twice would remove your memories of your old life, free to fill with whatever I desire or command. And a third would kill you.”

The words hang between them, the implications heavy and the appeal entirely too enticing to Alec at the prospect of Magnus practically handing them their chance together on a silver platter. “Then kiss me, make me forget.”

Magnus laughs, loud and sarcastic and unbefitting the magical entity presents himself as in that moment. 

“I will not. You deserve your free will, you deserve a chance to live, I will not take that from you, and I will not let you waste away at my every beck and call.” Before Alec can protest, Magnus silences him with a raised finger. “We have company.”

The click of heels along glass, the sound of them scraping the ice below in a wincing grind irks Alec's nerves, makes him grimace and turn to face the intruder.

Long black locks and deep brown eyes greet him when he turns to see his sister’s face, and the annoyance that swells within him rises to the surface.

“Izzy, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to save you,” she manages through gasps of air, the adrenaline seeming to fade with every lungful. “I’m bringing you home.”

“How did you - “

“I gave her the sight,” Magnus interrupts. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t choose to leave on your own, so I called in reinforcements, so to speak.”

Alec scoffs, anger striking hot the fire inside of him that sparks to life. “I finally found my soulmate after all these years, and even he doesn’t want me.”

Izzy’s confused lilt of “Soulmate?” is drowned out by the rush of Magnus rounding on Alec in his own rise of anger, looming over him in a way that Alec tries not to find exciting.

“Do not ever accuse me of not wanting you, Alexander,” Magnus growls, leaning so close Alec can feel the harsh breaths on his face. “I fear I want you too much, and I may do something stupid if I’m not incredibly careful with you. But this cannot be as long as my father is trapped with Lilith, please believe me.”

This close, Alec almost caves, almost gives into the temptation to kiss Magnus. This close, he can smell the trickle of winter that radiates off of Magnus. The snow, the trees in the forest, he can smell the blizzard that first night. All of it fills his senses, calms the rage that bellows to take what’s his, what fate has decided he is worthy of. But Magnus’ eyes, surrounded by the same glitter that sparked from his fingertips the nights before when they had sat side by side enjoying each others’ presence, hold a pained resignation that quells the hurt and injustice Alec wants to cry out against.

Slowly, so slowly it almost hurts, Alec takes a step back, and then another. A hand wraps around his wrist, grips the spot that holds his faded soulmark, and tugs gently until he’s walking back out of the throne room with his sister leaving Magnus, a fading vision before him like so many dreams come and gone.

---

The trek back home is filled with silence, so much that the wind hardly swirls around them. It’s calm, serene, full of regret that Alec wishes he could feel but only paves the way for the urge of defiance he has to forcibly tamp down on. 

He wonders if Magnus made the trip back easy for them, if he commanded the winds to cease and the snow to stop midair, only to descend once they’ve passed. Izzy says very little, asks questions only when a misstep causes an interaction between them, but even then Alec’s responses are quick and unmotivated.

It isn’t until they reach their home, exhausted and wet from melted snow, that his sister finally cracks.

“That was Magnus,” she begins, hesitant, “and he’s your soulmate?”

Alec nods, not able to manage much more than that when the images of glowing green fill his memories.”Yeah,” he croaks, throat burning from more than the cold air outside. 

“He wasn’t some crazy evil guy that stole you away and turned you horrible?”

Taking the moment to try and stifle down the anger and aggravation that starts to kindle itself with its own fire, Alec shakes his head and takes the small living room in as though he has never seen it before. It’s adequate enough. Still too small, too worn, too lived-in. But this is what he’s being forced to choose, and leaving doesn’t seem like such a viable option anymore when the results of that first attempt led him straight back here. 

There are arms around him then, soft and comforting and warm. Izzy.

“I’m so sorry, Alec,” she mumbles into his back where her face is pressed and pooling tears onto his clothes. The irritation is swift to draw forth, and he’s about to push her away when the sobs wracking her body stop him short. “I was so scared I had lost you.”

Confliction forms inside of his heart and mind at her words. The darkened part of his mind wants to shove her aside, wants to tell her to stay away from him, that she cost him Magnus. But the part deep in the crevices of his heart where light begins to shine, where he once held so much love and adoration for his sister wants to pull her into his arms and comfort her, to ease her worries for his safety. A battle begins to stir, rages into a storm and whirls around until it becomes a culmination of excruciating pain that builds behind his eyes. Every throb, every sting, every burn, all of it draws a cry of agony from him until he’s sagging to the floor with his sister crying out his name behind him in a familiar display.

The pain seems to last forever, a relentless tide that Alec can’t seem to surface from, and he wonders if this is what he gets for entertaining the thought of staying with Magnus when he didn’t deserve to. He wonders if Magnus can see this, if Magnus knows what’s happening, if Magnus knew this would happen.

The torturous slew of pain continues to rise, more and more, higher still, until finally - finally - it peaks and clatters a small crystal onto the floorboards beneath them. Confused, Izzy moves to pick it up, holding it high to the light to examine what it could be.

“Glass?”

Alec blinks the remnants of the ache from his eyes slowly, breathing labored and Izzy’s hand on his shoulder no longer aggravating the disgust that slowly dissipates from his heart. He turns to his sister, watching her wide-eyed and guilty. 

“Izzy,” he gasps, rushing to pull her into a tight hug. “Izzy I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

There are more tears that fall onto his shoulder as they continue to hold each other, Izzy’s watery explanation of the past few weeks, her worries, all the confusion pours out into muffled words against his chest. He soothes the hurt, soothes the pain as best as he can, and hopes that any damage he’s done can be repaired over time. 

As freeing as it was to feel no remorse, no regret or sorrow, it’s even more freeing to give into the emotions, to give into basic human decency and begin to patch things back up. 

---

They talk for hours, wrapped up in blankets by the fireplace once the tears have subsided, and Alec explains everything that happened after he left her in the blizzard. He speaks of Magnus, of magic and ice palaces. They laugh about some of the tricks Magnus showed him, and sober up at the story of Lilith and Asmodeus. 

When Alec talks of their theories, Izzy’s eyes brighten and she retrieves the small shard of glass from the floor. 

“Do you think…” She trails off, watching him carefully.

Realization hits Alec, and with an eager nod he gives Izzy the honors of what he hopes to be the right decision.

With a grin on her face, she stomps the small shard between the ground and the heel of her shoe, snuffing out any remnants of dark magic left inside.

---

The good thing about small-town life, Alec tells himself, is that it’s easy to get back into. 

After reconciling with his sister, apologies to anyone he wronged when he was infected with dark magic was next on his to-do list. Lydia had welcomed him back with a genuine smile and a warm hug. Maia had punched his arm rather harshly and let him know if he ever acted like that again she wouldn’t hesitate to leave a mark. Simon claimed to notice no difference, but accepted the apology as an extension of friendship that Alec quickly had to retract.

All in all, things were looking up. The next months pass easily enough for the Lightwoods, but sometimes in the dark of night Alec finds himself still waiting by the window, cheek pressed to the cold glass that he wishes was stained blue, wondering if anyone will show. But nobody ever does, and even his dreams leave no possibility of hope. Where Magnus once called to him, once offered the touch of his affection, now he receives nothing.

The mark on his wrist still fades a little more each day. It melts into his skin like a real snowflake, and though Alec longs to feel the touch of the snowfall on his skin in the early mornings, that, too, has ceased. Snowfall comes only at night when Alec is asleep, something he’s rationalized as intentional on Magnus’ part.

Where hope once buried itself, now remains content patience. He knows the truth about his soulmate now, he knows why Magnus made the choices for them that he did, and he only regrets the way he left. Despite the process of events, and the bridges that he almost burned, Alec wouldn't change knowing Magnus for anything. For as long as he’s allowed his memories, he’ll remember the longing glances exchanged across the room, each and every subtle touch when they would brush past each other in the halls of the palace, and  the heat from Magnus’ body when they would sit beside each other and talk for hours.

A knock at the door brings him out of his thoughts, and though Alec isn’t expecting guests, he hurries to pull it open. 

Magnus - beautiful, incredible, wonderful Magnus - greets him on the other side. Warm white coat, silver flecks of glitter around his eyes, and a hesitant, hopeful smile. 

“Magnus,” Alec hitches, breath catching in his throat at the sight. 

“Alexander,” Magnus responds warmly. “Can I come in?”

“O-Of course!”

Alec steps aside to let him in, affording himself the few moments of silence as Magnus walks in to appreciate the sight of him in his small, cozy home. Magnus doesn’t belong here, Alec knows that he doesn’t quite fit in, in all his grand splendor, but Alec can’t deny how good he looks here. 

They’re on the couch by the fireplace when the errant worry that maybe the fire is too hot for the Ice Prince sneaks into Alec’s mind. Before he can ask, however, Magnus speaks. “You did it, you know. I wanted to thank you personally.”

“It worked?”

Magnus nods. “It took some time, but as soon as I felt the change, I knew what had happened, and I knew it was successful.”

“So your father was able to keep Lilith banished?”

“Yes,” Magnus smiles, shifting closer and making Alec’s heart race. “When my father returned he gave me a choice. I could stay and watch over winter, as I had been for years. I could stay and remain a fairy tale that people who have the sight will go back to tell their families. Or I could leave and be free.”

Alec swallows, glancing down at the space still separating them on the couch, scrutinizing every thread he can make out in the over-used cushion. “What did you choose?”

Fingers tread closer to his, dance across the couch and along Alec’s thigh until they’re clasping through his own and slowly, he lifts his head to Magnus’ eager smile. 

“I chose happiness, Alexander. I chose you.”

Relief rushes through rapidly, bubbles a laugh from Alec’s throat, and Magnus pulls him into a tight embrace that they hold for longer than either of them care to put a number to. 

They take solace in each other now, sitting comfortable and warm, with bodies pressed together and Magnus’ fingers treading through the thick locks of Alec’s hair. It feels... Amazing. It feels unreal, unbelievable to be sitting in the arms of his soulmate, to feel Magnus’ even breathing beneath his weight, to know he’s actually here, and that they can truly be together. That he has finally found his soulmate.

“Magnus,” Alec hums lightly after what feels like hours tangled in each other. Magnus offers a small noise of content in response, but refuses much more than that. “Hypothetically, if you were to kiss me… would I still lose my memories?”

When Magnus laughs, it doesn’t sound out of place like it did in the palace. It sounds natural and free, a full blossoming spring of affection. “Why don’t we find out?”

Alec wrinkles his nose, “I would rather like to keep my -”

Lips against his own cut Alec off, a warm pressure so different than their first time in the blizzard. A moment, just a moment of hesitation, and then Alec is leaning into the kiss. It’s slow and soft like the delicate snowfall they shared for so many years, until the storm rises and it soon becomes a flurry of pecks, a quick succession of kisses greedy for more, hungry for what was refused for so long. 

Suddenly, Magnus pulls back.

“I think it’s safe to say you remember everything, so no need to keep going.”

Alec rolls his eyes, the grin on his lips betraying the annoyance he feigns as he pulls Magnus back to him by the front of his still worn coat.

They’ll have to explain what happened when Izzy returns and figure out what Magnus is going to do now that he’s not locked up in an ice palace for all of eternity. But for now, wrapped up and kissing lazily in the warm cocoon of new love, the only thing that matters is that they have each other, at last. Two souls connected, two hearts matched forever, and they have all of that time to figure out what the future holds for them, together.

[maddrmatt]

Kairi’s Epic Journey: The Quest for Sora

New to this fanfic? Click here to properly begin!

Chapter 10: Flying Lessons

Never Land

“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Peter,” said Kairi as she stood up on a tall cliff.  Gazing downward, she saw many sharp rocks at the bottom.         “You expect me, for my first flying attempt, to jump off this?”

“Hey, if anything, it’ll motivate you more to get it right on the first try.  It certainly worked for Sora.  He fell right toward the open mouth of Mr. Crocodile and took off just before he snapped shut,” said Peter as he hovered in front of her.

“He didn’t exactly have a choice about that with Hook forcing him off the plank,” said Kairi.

“Look, it’ll be easy. I mean take a look at me.  I’m a natural,” said Peter.

‘Maybe it’s because you’re so full of hot air,’ thought Kairi.

“I’ll only do this if you promise me that if something goes wrong, you’ll catch me.  Is that clear?” asked Kairi.

“Okay.  But don’t worry so much.  You’ll get it.  You won’t even need me to catch you,” said Peter.

“So how does it work exactly?”

“It’s easy, Kairi,” said the voices of the Twins.  Kairi turned around to see the Lost Boys sitting on nearby rocks.  Pluto stood nearby.

“All it takes is faith!” exclaimed Nibs as Tink began to sprinkle pixie dust on all of them.

“Trust!” exclaimed Slightly as the Lost Boys began to float in the air.

“And something else. I know what it is.  But I just can’t think of it right now,” said Cubby as he scratched his forehead while turning upside down in mid-air.

“Pixie dust?” asked Kairi.

“Yeah.  That’s it!  How’d you know?” asked Cubby.

“It is kind of obvious seeing as how you all lifted off right after Tink covered you with the stuff,” said Kairi.  ‘Plus, I remember that’s how Sora, Donald and Goofy got that ability too.’

“You see, Kairi? It’s easy.  Tink!” called Peter as the fairy flew directly in front of his face. “Dust her!”

Tink just folded her arms and turned away.

“Tink, don’t be that way. Remember, we’re doing this to help Kairi find Sora.  If she’s able to fly, she’ll get a whole new view to watch out for him from.  So, let her have it,” said Peter.

‘It’s going to be harder to find Sora than that, Peter.  Still, the ability to fly may come in handy wherever I may go on this journey so I can’t afford to pass it up.  In fact, maybe that’s why the Wayfinder brought me here: to learn this skill,’ thought Kairi.

Tink finally relented and circled around Kairi.  As she flew, she spread her pixie dust all over the Princess of Heart.  Once Kairi was covered head to toe in the magical substance, Tink returned to Peter’s side.

“Now you’re all set. Okay, Kairi.  Give it a try,” said Peter as he floated over the cliff and beckoned her to follow.

“Uh how do you start it up?” asked Kairi.

In response, Toodles floated in front of her.  He slid his fingers across the corners of his mouth while smiling.  Then he tapped on his forehead.

“What’s he trying to say?” asked Kairi.

“He’s saying to think of a happy thought,” said Slightly.

“Yeah.  That’s all you need to start flying,” said the Twins.

“It’s true. Thinking of the happiest things is the same as having wings,” said Peter with Tink nodding in agreement.

‘Happy thoughts? Well, I haven’t been having many of those lately.  But maybe I can muster some up with a few good memories.’

Kairi walked up to the edge of the cliff.  Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the various memories she held dear.

Drawing the first stages of the paopu drawing in the Secret Place when she and Sora were young.

Giving Sora her lucky charm for the first time.

Finding Sora’s addition to the paopu drawing and adding her own.

Throwing her arms around Sora tightly when they reunited in the Organization’s castle.

Kairi smiled and for a moment, it seemed as if she was slowly inching off the ground.  That is, until other memories began to surge through her mind.  These memories were the ones she wished she could forget.

Watching Sora vanish right in front of her after he used Ansem’s Keyblade to free her heart from his body.

The sorrow as memories of Sora slowly slipped away.

Being ripped away from Sora twice during the Keyblade War first by the Demon Tide and then by Xemnas.

Xehanort explicitly telling her what he planned to do to her to give Sora motivation.

Kairi opened her eyes with a gasp.  A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Kairi?  Are you okay?” asked Peter.

“I-I’m fine, Peter,” said Kairi as she wiped away the tear.  “I was trying to jump start the happy thoughts with my favorite memories of Sora.  But I lost it when a few bad memories came through.”

Kairi then turned away from the cliff and began to walk away.  Peter flew after her.

“Don’t give up yet. I know you can do it.”

“I’m not giving up. Just trying a different approach. Maybe with a running start and focusing on one single memory, I can pull it off,” said Kairi as she turned back around.

After taking a deep breath, Kairi ran back towards the cliff.  Peter and the Lost Boys gave out loud cheers of encouragement.  Pluto, however, just covered his eyes with his ears.

As Kairi ran, she focused her thoughts on one special memory.  This memory was the one she currently treasured above all others.

The sunset when she and Sora finally shared the paopu fruit for real and bound their lives and destinies together forever.

Holding onto this happy memory, Kairi continued to run until she reached the edge of the cliff. Closing her eyes and spreading her arms like wings, she gave a powerful leap and left the ground.

A few seconds passed before Kairi opened her eyes and let out a gasp of surprise.

She was hovering in the air.  She was flying!

“You did it, Kairi!” exclaimed Peter as the Lost Boys cheered, and Pluto barked happily.  Even Tink was smiling and clapping her hands.

‘I did it!  I did it, Sora!  I…’ thought Kairi when suddenly, a bad memory shot through her: the memory of the last words she heard from her beloved.

‘Kairi, I’m so sorry.’

With the happy thought superseded by the awful memory, Kairi’s brief moment of flight came to end. She immediately dropped like a stone. Gazing downward, Kairi saw the sharp rocks on the bottom approaching fast and screamed with terror

‘Come on!  Come back happy thought!’

But it was no use.  With her mind filled with terror, there was no way to resume flight.

But suddenly, just before she hit the sharp rocks, she stopped.  She was now dangling upside down in the air.  Craning her neck, she looked up and saw that Peter had grabbed her by her ankles. She gave a sigh of relief.

Peter flew back up to the cliff and gently lowered Kairi so she was now on her hands and knees on the ground.  As she pulled herself into a sitting position, the Lost Boys surrounded her with looks of concern.  Pluto came right up to her and nuzzled against her face.

“What happened, Kairi?  You almost had it,” said Peter.

Kairi let out a deep sigh and clutched her knees to her chest.  “I don’t think I’m going to be able to fly at all, Peter.”

“But why?” asked Nibs.

“Anybody can do it,” chimed in Slightly.

“I’m sure anybody can.  But as hard as I try, I can’t keep up any happy thoughts.  You see, boys, my happiest memories always involved Sora and my other friends.  But since I lost him, I can’t think of happier times with him without my worse memories interrupting them.  That’s why I don’t think I’ll be able to fly.”

“I never knewed happy thoughts could become sad thoughts,” said Cubby as he scratched his head.

“Maybe since thinking of Sora’s not making her happy, why doesn’t she just think of something else?  Maybe another friend?” asked Slightly.

“That might work.  Kairi, why don’t you try thinking of happier times with your other friends.  Maybe that one with the silver hair?  What was his name?  Riku?” asked Peter.

“Before I left, Riku and I weren’t speaking to each other, Peter.  So, that won’t work either,” said Kairi.  ‘Guess I won’t be learning a new skill after all.’

Then Pluto began to bark.  He sounded worried.

“What is it, Pluto?” asked Kairi.

In response, the dog pointed with his nose toward her neck.  Her hands went to where he was indicating, and she gasped.

Her usual necklace was there.  But the Wayfinder was missing.

“The Wayfinder!  It’s gone!” exclaimed Kairi as she rose to her feet and ran back to the edge of the cliff with Pluto, Peter, Tink and the Lost Boys following behind her.  “It must have slid off of me when you stopped my fall, Peter.  Could you and Tink please go down there and look for it?”

“You got it, Kairi!  Come on, Tink!” said Peter as he and the fairy flew down toward the sharp rocks.

Kairi clutched the sides of her head worriedly.  ‘I hope it’s not damaged or worse.  That Wayfinder’s my only hope of getting Sora back.’

Just then, Tink flew up back to the cliff.  She had the Wayfinder dangling from her tiny hands.

“You found it!  And it’s alright!  Thanks, Tink!” exclaimed Kairi as she approached the fairy, ready to take the Wayfinder from her.

But, with a sly smirk on her face, Tink suddenly tossed the Wayfinder into the air.  It sailed over Kairi and landed in the hands of one of the Twins.

Kairi was shocked.  “What did do that for, Tink?” she asked prompting the fairy to give a mock shrug in response.

“Hey, Nibs!  Go long!” said the Twin as he prepared to throw the Wayfinder himself.

“No!  Don’t!” cried Kairi as she ran to stop him.  But she was too late, and the Twin already threw it to Nibs.

The impromptu game of keepaway escalated as each of the Lost Boys tossed the Wayfinder back and forth as Kairi frantically tried to retrieve it.

“Come on, boys!  This isn’t funny!” she yelled.  But the Lost Boys were too busy laughing and keeping up their game that her protests fell on deaf ears.

‘Maybe Peter can stop this,’ thought Kairi as she turned around, hoping that Peter had finally come up.

He had indeed returned.  But he was currently floating in the air clutching his sides as he laughed at the scene in front of him.

Kairi scowled.  ‘I can’t believe he’s allowing this.  Can’t he see that I’m not pleased at all with this?’

Finally, just as Slightly had thrown the Wayfinder in the direction of Cubby, Pluto leapt up into the air and caught it by the chain with his mouth.  He then walked over to Kairi.  With a grateful smile, she took the talisman from him and put it around her neck.

“Thanks, Pluto,” she said as she petted the top of the dog’s head.

“Aww!  The dog ruined our game!” shouted Cubby.

Kairi gave a look of disgust toward the Lost Boys as she held up the Wayfinder.  “This is not a toy to be played with.  Why couldn’t you boys just stop when I asked?  You know what.  This is the last straw.  I’m not spending one more minute with such insensitive, thoughtless children who think life is just one big game.  Because it’s not.”

Paying no attention to the stunned looks on the boys’ faces, Kairi stomped off toward the jungle with Pluto following behind.  Peter flew after her.

“Aw come on, Kairi!  They were only having some fun.  You should have joined in.  It probably would’ve made you feel better,” he said as he flew alongside her.

“Peter, the only thing that will ever make me feel better is finding Sora.  And my Wayfinder is the only thing I have that can possibly lead me to him,” said Kairi angrily.

“Well, how were we supposed to know that?” asked Peter.

“I would’ve explained it.  But for a bunch of boys who won’t grow up, I’m afraid any attempt would be lost on you.”

“But Kairi…”

“Just forget it, Peter.  You all have no idea what it’s like to miss someone so much that you’ll do anything to see them again,” said Kairi.

With that, Kairi accelerated and ran faster into the jungle and Pluto followed.  They didn’t care where they would end up.  They just wanted to get as far away from Peter and his crew as possible.

________________________________________________________________

A while later, Kairi and Pluto had stopped.  They were currently in the middle of a small clearing in the jungle.  Still steamed about what had happened earlier, Kairi was pacing all around while Pluto watched.

“I don’t know about you, Pluto.  But I have had it up to here with this place.  Peter and Tinker Bell were such a big help to Sora, Donald and Goofy on their adventures.  Why aren’t they doing the same for us?” she asked.

Kairi then raised the Wayfinder up above her head to the sky and shouted, as if her words could reach the ears of her mysterious benefactor, “I’m trying to do what you said I had to do. But couldn’t you have given me more information of what I have to do to get this thing to glow?  Because if there’s supposed to be a reason for my being here, I am not seeing it.  Why couldn’t it bring us to a world where I could get actual help in finding Sora?”

The Princess’ rant went unheard.  She wasn’t surprised.  In fact, she would’ve been more surprised if the mysterious woman from her dream had actually answered.

Pluto whimpered. Kairi glanced at him and let out a big sigh.

“I don’t know, Pluto. They shouldn’t have been playing around with the Wayfinder like that.  But maybe I was a little too hard on them.  It’s not like they knew how important the Wayfinder is.  I haven’t exactly told them everything.  They believe that Sora’s just lost somewhere and can easily be found.  But how do I tell them it’s not as simple as that?”

Kairi continued to walk around the clearing.  ‘Then again, it’s not like I’ve been completely honest before I started on this quest.  I didn’t tell Riku and the others how I guilty I was feeling about what happened to Sora.  But like a stubborn fool, I thought it was my burden to bear alone. Maybe if I had told them, maybe we wouldn’t have fought, and we’d all be searching for Sora together right now.’

“Should I go back and at least try to explain to them more about what happened to Sora and what I’m trying to do? Peter and Tink already know about the other worlds so I wouldn’t have to worry about the world order.  But would they even understand?  What do you think, Pluto?” she asked as she turned toward her canine companion.  She let out a gasp at what she saw.

Pluto was currently being hogtied by a couple of thuggish men dressed in pirate garb.  They had also tied his mouth shut with rope.

Before she could react further, a gag was suddenly pulled over her mouth.  Then she felt her arms getting pulled behind her back.

A horrible feeling shot through Kairi.  The attack on her brought back the memories of Xemnas abducting her in the middle of the Keyblade War; the moment where everything truly went downhill for her and Sora.

As her hands were tied behind her back with rope, more pirates stepped out of the foliage.  All of them were brandishing cutlasses and guns and evil smiles.  They chuckled wickedly at her.

Then, stepping through the middle of the crowd, came a very familiar face.  He was a tall, thin pirate dressed in a red coat and hat.  He had black hair and a very thin moustache. But his most notable feature was the metal hook that replaced his left hand.

The most infamous pirate in all of Never Land: Captain James Hook.

Followed by his ever faithful first mate, Mr. Smee, Hook walked up to Kairi.  Bending down to her eye level, he gave the captive princess a wicked smile.

“Hello, Kairi.”

________________________________________________________________

Onto the next chapter!

[p-artsypants]

I Do...I Guess? (5)

Guadosalam

Ao3 | FF.net

The city of Guadosalam was made of thousands and thousands of interwoven tree roots. No leaves, just roots. Just like the Guado themselves, nature seemed to stretch and twist in the most peculiar of ways. 

Though, none of this was really digested before a Guado man called out to them. 

“Lady Yuna! The High Summoner Lord Seymour has been expecting you! I am Tromell, the steward to His Grace. Please won’t you come with me?” 

Yuna seemed flustered. “Lord Seymour wants to see me?” 

“Most fervently! We expected you last night, as far as travel time goes.” 

“Our apologies,” said Lulu, “we were delayed at the Moonflow by a Shoopuf stomach ache.” 

“Nevertheless,” said Tromell, “you’re here now, so come!” 

Startled by the bluntness of the Guado, the party was whisked off into the city. The city was made up of overlapping bridges and tunnels, all still made of tree roots. 

“I wonder if this is what being a rabbit is like.” Tidus mused. 

Tromell escorted them to a manor in the middle of the city, with a grand staircase that wrapped around both sides of the room. 

“Wait here, a moment,” Tromell prompted, before disappearing under the stairs. 

Auron nudged Tidus closer to Yuna. “Stay near her. I have a bad feeling.” 

“Oh yeah? Yevon rub you the wrong way too?” 

“I’ve been in Zanarkand for a very long time. Things change. Opinions change. Status of power changes.” 

“Vague, but threatening.” 

Yuna looked at Auron. “You don’t think Maester Seymour is a bad person, do you?” 

“People with power can abuse power, priests of Yevon have power. That’s all I’m saying.” 

Tidus laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Yuna. Maybe he’s just going to congratulate us, or give you some tips. Or something.” 

“I hope you’re right.” 

Lulu nudged Tidus, and pointed to a series of portraits on the wall in front of them. “History lesson, for the oh so important husband of the summoner.” 

“Lay it on me.” 

“These are the leaders of the Guado, the last on the end is Lord Jsycal, father of Seymour.” 

“Wow, they all look the same.” 

“Now look at this side.” 

The line of portraits trailed off to show Seymour, but next to his predecessors, it was obvious how different he looked. 

“Why doesn’t he look like the rest of the Guado?” 

“That would be because he’s half human. Lord Jsycal married a human woman, and brought the Yevon faith to the Guado.” 

“Wait, so they haven’t always been a part of Yevon?” 

“No. Only about twenty years now. They are the guardians of the Farplane, and Macalania woods. They convened with nature, and the pyreflies.” 

“Okay,” Tidus held up his hands. “That was a lot of information you just threw at me. What about them guarding the Farplane? Are you being literal?” 

“Completely. There’s a gate here, in Guadosalam, that allows us a brief glimpse into the Farplane.” 

“We can go there later,” Yuna stated. “I heard it’s an emotional experience.” 

“That’s…crazy.” He ended with. 

Tromell reappeared. “The dining room is ready. Please, help yourselves to the food. You must be famished. Lord Seymour will be with you shortly.” He gestured them down a hallway. 

“For twisting our arms and making us rush here, there’s sure a lot of waiting,” Rikku remarked. 

“If we keep getting delayed like this, we’ll reach Gagazet too late in the season, and have to wait until the spring thaw.” Auron added, with much bitterness. 

“I think that’s a little far…” Yuna offered. “We still have a few weeks before the ice sets in.” 

“And who knows how long Zanarkand will take? What if we make it over the mountain, but not back over before the ice sets in? You don’t want to be trapped in those ruins for several months.” Auron argued. “We press on, and if the timing is too close, we stay with the Ronso, or come up with alternate plans.” 

“I guess I hadn’t been thinking about the mountain ice,” Yuna offered shyly. “I didn’t think the pilgrimage would take that long.” 

“It shouldn’t,” agreed Lulu, “but if we keep getting stopped like this…” 

“Hey, no worries. We’ll make up time somehow. And if we have to stay with the Ronso…that can’t be all that bad. Kimahri can get us in with his family.” 

“Kimahri leave Ronso tribe. Runt of litter, shamed by brothers.” 

“Oh.” 

“We have a while before we even get to Gagazet, so let’s all just chill out, okay?” Rikku offered. 

The group fanned out, taking their concerns to each corner of the room. There were several tables of food, each stacked higher than the one before. 

“The Guado may be blunt,” said Rikku, “but they sure do know how to make someone feel at home!” 

“Guado food, mostly plants.” Kimahri muttered to himself as he picked over a fruit tray. 

“Hey,” Yuna brought a plate over to Tidus. “Look what I made!” 

It looked like an open faced sandwich, with cheese and tomato slices. 

“Hmm looks good?” He offered. 

“It’s for you! It’s pizza!” 

His eyes widened. Indeed, she had remembered his instructions from the night before. Oh how vague he had been. 

“Aw! Yuna, this is wonderful. Sorry I didn’t recognize it at first. I didn’t really describe it that well last night.” 

“No?” 

“Well, first of all, it’s cooked. Usually in a wood stove. The dough is soft, then you add tomato sauce, and then shredded cheese and other toppings. You bake it until it’s melted and golden brown.” 

“Oh…” she looked sad. “Well, I don’t have an oven…” 

He held her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. One day, I’ll make you a proper pizza.” He took the plate from her. “I’m going to eat this anyway, because it was the nicest gesture anyone has made for me…in like, forever. Thank you.” 

Yuna smiled broadly. 

“My my,” spoke a smarmy voice from the door. “So many guests, it’s been so long.” Seymour entered the room, and offered a bow, which only half the party returned. 

“You wanted to speak to me?” Yuna asked, humbly. 

“Yes, My Lady Yuna. First, I would like to share something with you and your party.” 

Immediately, the room erupted in a glowing light. A hologram, projecting a huge city, filled the room. 

“Zanarkand!” Tidus exclaimed, recognizing it immediately. 

“Correct, the Holy City, as it appeared a thousand years ago. These images are gathered from memories from the Farplane”

“Amazing machina…” Rikku whispered to herself, more about the hologram program than the ancient depictions. 

“You recognized it so quickly,” Said Yuna.

“Sure!” He pointed out a tall building. “This is a condo, and this one here is a bank. This one has a grocer on the bottom that sells really good chicken sandwiches.”

Wakka and Seymour both looked at him curiously, but said nothing.

Instead, Seymour drew attention to himself. “She lived here, all those years ago.” 

“Who?”

The hologram changed, this time to a bedroom, with a woman sitting on the bed. 

“Oh, Lady Yunalesca!” Yuna explained. 

“The first to defeat Sin. Your namesake. Your destiny!” 

Tidus gave the others in the room a quick glance. Rikku met it and rolled her eyes. 

“Um, my father named me that. But I think he just liked the name.” 

“You do not believe in destiny, My Lady?” 

A holographic man in armor entered the room, opening his arms wide to embrace his wife. 

Seymour looked at the couple with longing. “Two hearts bonded for eternity, unflappable loyalty and love. This truly was the key to stopping the unbeatable Sin.” 

Now Tidus turned his gaze to scrutinize Seymour. He was looking at Yuna in that way again, the eyes of a predator. 

Yuna seemed to squirm under that gaze. 

“Lady Yuna, I would be honored if I could speak to you in private?” He gestured to a corner room as the hologram faded. 

“I…uh…” Yuna stuttered.

Auron shoved Tidus forward. “He goes with. That’s all the privacy we will allow.” 

Seymour looked disappointed, but beckoned them both along to the little room. 

“What is this all about, Your Grace?” Yuna asked. 

Tidus stayed silent, but right at her side. 

“Seymour is fine, My Lady. If I can return the favor?” 

“Yuna is fine as well, and this is Tidus.” 

Seymour didn’t seem to care. “I am ever so grateful that you granted me an audience. I know being a summoner is a busy ordeal—“ 

“Would you just spit it out, already?” Tidus muttered. 

“Something the matter, Sir…?” 

“Tidus,” he repeated, like he hadn’t just been introduced. “I’m sorry. We’ve had a…stressful day, and we’re anxious to get on with our journey.” He tried to be polite, but there were just too many red flags flying in his face. 

“I understand. Then, I will not beat around the bush anymore. Yuna, I believe it is for the benefit of Spira that you and I wed.” 

She jolted. “What?!” 

“Think of the joy it would bring. A maester of Yevon, and a High Summoner, bonded in Holy Bliss! Would it not bless Spira? I would only aim to aid in your Journey as well.” 

“I…” Yuna just stared in shock, her mouth fighting for words. 

Tidus, while never the one to back down from a fight, had a feeling that Seymour would ignore him if he protested. So he rested his hand on Yuna’s shoulder, and gave her strength. 

She took a breath and found her center. “While I am extremely flattered you would ask this of me, I must decline. I am already married, you see. Tidus is my husband.” 

Seymour frowned, and his steely blue eyes flashed with a definite hate in Tidus’ direction. “You were not married at the Mi’ihen Operation, though.” 

“We were engaged.” Tidus fudged the timeline. Yuna didn’t object. 

“So you’ve only been married, what? A few days?” 

“About two,” Yuna clarified. “The ceremony was performed at the Djose Temple.” 

This made Seymour smile. “Only two days? Then there’s nothing to worry about. The records wouldn’t have made it to Bevelle yet, and we can easily annul the whole thing.” 

“HA!” Tidus laughed. “Annulment?! Are you serious? Like we would ever—…” he stopped when he noticed that Yuna was thinking it over. “Yuna, we wouldn’t…right?” 

She looked at him, lost, totally thrown for a loop. “I don’t know.” 

This angered him. “You don’t know!? It should be obvious! Unless you regret this? Regret me?” 

“That’s not…I only meant…” 

Seymour hummed. “I can see this isn’t an easy decision for you both. Of course, an annulment must be mutually agreed on. I’ll leave you two to discuss it. I hope you reach the right decision, Sir Tidus.” And the bastard left. 

Tidus let out a yell, which startled Yuna. Then he followed it with, “Who does he think he is?! Thinking I’d go along with whatever he wants just because he’s a Maester! Disgusting!” 

Yuna hunched her shoulders and clasped her hands in front of her chest. 

“Well? What’s it going to be?” He asked, tone much harsher than he intended. 

“If it would be for the good of Spira—“

“No. Yuna. I’m not married to Spira, I’m married to you. Use terms like ‘I think’ and ‘I feel’ don’t just…regurgitate things that have been said to you!” 

She flushed, and turned her back to him. “I need some water.” 

He went to the door and opened it for her, taking deep breaths with each step. “Sure, let’s get you some water.” He tried to keep his voice steady. 

Out in the parlor, Seymour loitered with the rest of the party. When the door opened, they all turned to look. 

“You okay, brodda? We heard you scream.” 

“Peachy. Just peachy.” 

Yuna walked with purpose to the drink table and downed a glass of water. 

“What about you, Yunie? Your face is all red.” 

“Lord Seymour asked me to marry him,” She said sternly. 

“And?” Asked Auron, “you’re already married.” 

“But only recently, there’s still time for an annulment,” Seymour prodded again.

“Yes, the High Summoner gave up her marriage to someone she really cared about to marry for politics. Sounds very romantic and I’m sure Spira will love to hear it.” Auron bit. “Yuna and Tidus were married so that Yuna could have a support pillar during her journey, not so that the world could feel a little better for a day. When it all comes down to it, Sin must be defeated, and this is a distraction.” 

Tidus was going to hug that man the first minute they were alone. 

“But easing the suffering of Spira is the job of the summoners. Even if it was just a little while, Yuna has the ability to do so, and should act on it.” Seymour offered, with a grin that seemed pleasant. Then he tilted his head as he studied Auron. “If you’ll excuse me Sir. Why are you still here?” 

Auron did not answer. 

“Forgive me, we Guado are very keen to the Farplane scent.” 

“If you saw what I saw, you’d be drenched in the Farplane too.” He answered coldly. 

Then Seymour noticed Rikku, who had been doing her best to stay in the background. He frowned again, “And an Al Bhed as a guardian to a summoner? Isn’t that rather unbecoming, Lady Yuna?” 

“An Al Bhed?!” Wakka blurted, before whirling to look at Rikku. “You’re—?” 

“Yes…” 

“She can’t be a guardian! She doesn’t believe in Yevon!” 

“Yuna wanted her as a guardian. That’s all that matters,” Auron challenged. 

“Are you kidding? Al Bhed aren't allowed in the temples! How is she supposed to be a guardian? And just because you’re the most experienced one here, doesn’t mean you get to be the ultimate authority, ya?” 

“Kimahri not like situation.” 

“No kidding. I need some air.” Tidus left, without so much as an ‘excuse me’. He rushed out of the mansion, passing a smug Seymour, and doing everything in his body to not punch his lights out. 

Outside, Tidus climbed the bridge to the Farplane entrance, and sat on the edge, legs dangling. 

“Damn Seymour.” He muttered. How quickly everything had dissolved. A few well placed questions and everyone was at each other's throats. Why bring up Rikku being an Al Bhed? Was he just trying to get everyone to doubt Yuna’s judgement? 

How gross. 

“It’s not you, you know.” Yuna interrupted his thoughts. She knelt on the bridge next to him. 

“What? Is this the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech?” 

“No, because it’s really not you that’s at fault. You’ve been wonderful, Tidus. I’ve never been married before, but you’re the best husband I could ask for.” 

“Then what? Was our marriage just…a game to you? Just something fun to do on the journey? And now that someone with power comes along, you want to ditch me? For a marriage with meaning?!” 

“That’s a very cruel thing to say.” 

He growled to himself, pulling on his hair. “I’m sorry, I’m just—“ he sighed, finding a piece of patience. “Do you remember that girl I told you about? She and I were seeing each other in Zanarkand?” 

“Yes?” 

“Well…she did something like this before. Not marriage. But she would…break up with me. And she’d go and date someone else for a while, and then when it didn’t work out, she’d come and declare we were dating again. And I never tried dating anyone else in those breaks, because the pain of her rejection always hurt. She would just…try for something better, and she knew that when it didn’t work out, I’d be there waiting.” 

“That’s awful.” 

“It is. It sucked. I know this isn’t the same thing, though. You don’t love Seymour. You don’t even like him, do you?” 

“Love’s got nothing to do with it. I have to do what’s right for Spira.” 

“You’re already doing something huge for Spira by going on this pilgrimage! And we’re going to defeat Sin! Isn’t that enough?” 

“Tidus...I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I was using you. I care a lot about you, or else I wouldn’t have asked. But...I rushed into our marriage. I don’t want to make any decisions I regret. I want my journey to be meaningful.” 

“I thought you wanted it to be full of laughter?” 

She paused, staring at him. The words went unsaid. If they got their annulment and she married Seymour, there would be no more laughter. 

“I think I want to see my father,” she said. “He’ll have some answers for me.” 

Tidus shrugged, noncommittally. 

“I’ll go see if everyone else is ready to visit the Farplane.” 

Kimahri had followed Yuna, as was his way, and he stood back silently as they talked. When she rose to leave, he came over and rubbed Tidus’s head. 

“Hey!” 

“For what it worth, Kimahri like Tidus for Yuna. More than anyone.” That was all he said, and all he ever needed to say. 

Tidus swallowed thickly, emotion bubbling up inside of him. 

Was he losing his wife to someone she didn’t even love? 

Why did he care? This wasn’t a marriage of love either. It was a bucket list item. She was really giving him an out. 

So why did he want to fight so bad? 

Auron rubbed his head, just like Kimahri had. “Are you crying? I heard you’re quite the cry baby.” 

“I’m not crying.” 

“Sure.” 

“But I appreciate you standing up for me.” 

“I wasn’t necessarily standing up for you, more just against this whole thing. I don’t know what Seymour’s aim is. He certainly has enough fame and notoriety. And bringing up Rikku’s lineage? Low blow.” 

Just then, Rikku and Wakka came out of the mansion, arguing. Lulu stood nearby, arms crossed, maybe as a mediator. Yuna stood a few paces back, looking anxious.

“How can you say that Machina is harmless when it’s very clearly the cause of Sin?!” 

“It’s not clearly the problem if it’s still allowed by Yevon!” 

“Only some things are allowed! And only if we use them humbly and for help, not to rise to power. Those weapons you people used at Operation Mi’ihen is probably the reason Sin came there in the first place!” 

“First of all, I had nothing to do with that Operation. My family thought it was a bad idea, and we stayed away. Second of all, they had a Sinspawn as bait, so don’t place the blame on a few cannons!” 

Auron spoke up. “Rikku! Wakka! That’s enough! You’ll never agree on this, and arguing is pointless. You both want to protect Yuna, right?” 

“Yeah,” said Wakka. 

“Yes!” Said Rikku. 

“Then that’s what matters. Do that, and you’ll get along great.” 

“Really duct taping the team back together, aren’t we, Chief?” Tidus asked, with much sarcasm. 

“I could just let them yell at each other in the street. Then everyone in Guadosalam will know Lady Yuna travels with a band of hooligans.” 

“Kimahri not a hooligan. Kimahri is Ronso.”

Tidus smiled at him. “Okay big guy.” 

Lulu rounded up the two combatants and Yuna, like they were baby ducklings, and corralled them up towards Tidus. 

“To the Farplane then?” 

“To the Farplane.” Yuna said, the only one with any enthusiasm. 

As everyone walked on ahead, Tidus fell into step beside Yuna. “Hey.” 

“Hi.” 

“I’m sorry for yelling.” 

“Don’t apologize. You were justified in your anger.” 

They walked a while in silence, slowing their steps to put distance between them and the others. 

“I just want you to know…this marriage means more to me than I thought it would. I get that it was for convenience and to fulfill a pipe dream, but I like being with you. I liked waking up next to you the other night.” He flushed. “Um, what I’m trying to say is that if you’re trying to give me an out, or an excuse to leave, don’t. I’m content to stay.” Then he sighed and took her hand. “But if getting an annulment and marrying Seymour is what you want and what will make your journey easier, then I’ll let you go.” 

She squeezed his hand back. “I appreciate it. I’ll have your answer after I speak with my father.”