#they watched the birth of the stars together and STILL that beauty pales in comparison to his eyes my god.

[theladyfae]

for some reason it didn't occur to me to put 'tere nainon ke aage to taare bhi sharmaaye' down as an aziracrow lyric until now but realisation has just hit me and i am. Sobbign

[reidingmelodies]

The Luckiest

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: Fluff Word Count: 2k Includes: Dad Spencer, Children, Pregnancy A/N:  I wrote this one for @anxiousblanketqueen’s birthday challenge: Happy Birthday, Jill! ♡ I hope you have an absolutely amazing day!! Main Masterlist

“What’s this, Daddy?” Spencer turned, eyes finding his daughter holding the scrapbook Penelope made for your anniversary a few months prior.  The book held your most cherished memories: from your first meeting to your first dates, to your marriage and the birth of your children.

“Auntie P made that for us, bug,” he explained, bending down to clear the pile of blocks on the floor to make way for her little feet.  She bounded towards him, the book dangling from her arms while she climbed next to him on the couch.

Big brown eyes similar to his own looked up at him, her little lip sticking out in a pout as she pushed the book towards him in a silent question.

She was only five, but she was fully aware that he was incapable of saying no to her; after all, she learned the puppy dog pout from its creator: his wife.

“Come here, love,” he situated his daughter on his lap, laying a gentle kiss on her hairline before opening the book to the first page.

“Is that Mommy?” her fingers moved to trace along the first photo, a still of you and Spencer at Derek and Penelope’s wedding seven years prior. Your eyes were focused off frame, gaze solely fixated on the couple’s first dance, but Spencer’s were glued to your every move.

It was your very first meeting, years of Penelope trying to set Spencer up with her high school best friend had failed up until that point.  Plans to go to bars were halted by last minute cases in different cities, parties in Penelope’s apartment were missed because you had a date lined up, lunch dates with Penelope where she hoped you would finally meet Spencer were ruined because he wouldn’t leave his desk.

Years and years of trying to get you two to meet, and all it took was her and Derek getting married.

If she knew it would have been that easy, she would have gotten hitched years ago.

As luck would have it, you and Spencer had somehow narrowly avoided each other during wedding planning as well.  It was as though the universe had something against you, as if all the signs were screaming that you weren’t meant to be.  But then, on the night the stars aligned for Derek and Penelope the same happened for you, your pre-planned seating arrangement leading you directly into Spencer’s arms and proving the universe wrong.

It was that night that two perfect strangers became stakeholders in one another’s lives, the night when two hearts found the piece that had been missing for too long.  Neither of you knew it then, but a few shared conversations and lingering glances over dinner were enough to change your lives.

“Yeah,” Spencer whispered, smiling at your daughter.  “That’s Mommy”.

And like their words summoned your presence, the front door opened and you walked in, your two year old son’s hand gripped around two of your fingers while your purse hung from your free arm.

“Mommy!” your daughter jumped from her position on Spencer’s lap to wrap her arms around your legs, your body bending to place a series of kisses against her head.

“Hi, Sweet Pea!  Did you have a good time with Daddy?”

“Mm-hmm!” you watched her pigtails bounce as she twirled, her hand moving to hold her brother’s as she walked him towards a tower in the center of the room.  “We played with blocks and read books and looked at a pretty picture of you!”

“Wow!  What picture was it?” but alas, your question fell short on your daughter’s ears, her attention long gone and instead focused on teaching her brother the right way to build a tower.

And honestly, as far as you were concerned that was perfectly okay.  Any moment they were getting along without tears or screams was a win in your book.

“We were looking at the album Penelope made us,” Spencer’s voice carried over the sound of your children’s giggles and you swiftly moved to sit next to him on the couch, thigh to thigh while your head rested against his shoulder.  “We made it through the first picture before you guys came home”.

You placed a gentle kiss against his shoulder where you laid, eyes scanning the photo in question. It was one of your favorite nights, but it paled in comparison to the picture on the next page.

“Remember that night?” you asked, pointing at the photo you had been eyeing.  It was a blurry mess to put it lightly, Spencer’s hand holding the disposable camera at an odd angle while you attacked his cheeks with kisses until a trail of lipstick was left in your wake.

You were young, in love, and inseparable- a blurry photo was a small price to pay for being with him.

“How could I forget,” Spencer chuckled lightly, shaking his head as he examined the picture, “I got off the jet at 11 PM and headed to your place for a midnight picnic.  We were only dating for three weeks and JJ thought it was weird to go to your place so late, but I didn’t care.  Did you think it was weird?”

You snuggled closer to him, the hitch at the end of his question cluing you into the fact that he was nervous you did.  “If you didn’t come over I most certainly would have went to your place- I hated being away from you, I still do now”.

You were rewarded with a kiss to your palm before Spencer continued to flip through the pages in a comfortable silence, your life together thus far being pieced together with every new picture.

From movie nights cuddled up on the floor of Derek and Penelope’s living room, to office holiday parties where you walked around with your pinkies intertwined, to stolen kisses at happy hour and café dates where you both sported espresso foam mustaches.

With the next flip of the page, you watched as your smiles grew wider in each photo with the addition of a ring on your left hand.  There were pictures of Spencer down on one knee at your favorite park thanks to Penelope’s hidden vantage point behind a set of trees a few feet away.

The sky was a cerulean blue, yellow and pink tulips in full bloom at your feet, but in that moment, with Spencer kneeling in front of you and the most beautiful declarations of love falling from his lips nothing was visible but him.  

Another flip of a page and yet another moment when nothing mattered but Spencer was on full display- your wedding day.  His arms were looped around your waist as you danced in front of your family and friends, your smiles the widest they’d ever been.  The night was filled with love filled glances and silent assertions of love fit for two in a room bursting with joy, each and every one caught on camera thanks to Penelope’s dedication to capturing one of her favorite love stories in action.

A series of selfies followed in the next few pages, each one a picture you had sent Penelope during your honeymoon as proof you weren’t always locked away in your hotel room. Spencer was sporting a sunglasses tan in each photo while you were sporting a smirk, each picture reminding you of the vacation that gave you one of your favorite gifts yet nine months later: your daughter.

You looked up from the album to glance in her direction, your lips curling into a smile as you watched her separate the blocks into color coded piles much to her younger brother’s amusement. With each passing day she reminded you more and more of Spencer, and it was by far one of your favorite journeys to witness.

Your focus shifted back to the book in Spencer’s hands, weekly progress photos of your stomach’s growth (which Spencer was determined to capture in all its glory) gracing the pages along with ultrasounds, memories from your baby shower, and pictures of Spencer’s hands constantly flitting over your lower belly. His head rested gently on your middle in each one, his face the picture of happiness as he whispered bedtime stories and facts about space, completely oblivious to everything but you and your daughter.

You watched as the baby you had spent months dreaming about came to life in pictures, her features the perfect mixture of you and Spencer from the moment she was placed in your hands. With each passing picture the bags under both of your eyes grew bigger, but your smiles grew wider.  Images of her firsts graced the pages: the first time she sat up, the first time she ate solid foods, the first time she said dada (and the tears in Spencer’s eyes when he heard it), her first steps, her first day of school.  

And then one made way for two, your son joining the midst of photos and bringing an endless amount of love and joy to your family.  Much like your daughter, he reminded you of Spencer: he was inquisitive- curious eyes always studying his surroundings, his hand always finding comfort in yours just like his father.  

Pictures of his firsts graced the pages much like your daughter’s, except this time the first time he sat up he was accompanied by a beaming sister, when he said mama for the first time it was you who was in tears, and when he took his first steps he walked straight into Spencer’s open arms.

The book was a picture-perfect testament to your love, one of your most prized possessions, but there was one thing missing.

“I love the life we built together,” Spencer whispered in your direction, his fingers tracing your side as he thought about how lucky he was. How lucky was he that he went from a man destined to live a solitary life to a man with a wonderful wife and two children made from love?

“I love it, too,” you murmured as your hand moved to reach for your purse, “but there’s one thing we’re missing”.

You watched as Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed, his eyes scanning the empty pages at the end of the book.  “I know the pictures are a little out of date, we can order some more this weekend to fill the empty pages though”, he stated as his gaze found yours to see if that was the answer you were looking for.

“We definitely can,” you nodded, removing an item from your purse and unsticking the scrapbook pages to place it in the middle.  Once you were satisfied with its placement, you adjusted the top sheet before holding both of Spencer’s hands in yours, “but we can start with this”.

The previously blank page was now the home of your very first ultrasound photo for your third baby, a surprise you had confirmed earlier that morning at your doctor’s appointment.  You watched as Spencer’s eyebrows shot up, his face breaking into a smile while his eyes filled with tears.

“Really?” his voice was so soft, you were sure you would have missed it if you weren’t sitting directly next to him.

“Really, really,” you confirmed, your left hand moving to grasp his jaw as you pulled his face closer to yours.

“Are you excited?” you whispered, fully aware that the answer was yes but craving confirmation.

With your question, a tear escaped his lash line, trailing down his cheek and making its way to a beaming smile that rivaled the ones you had seen in the scrapbook.

He nodded, at a complete loss for words as he closed the gap between you and let his feelings out in a kiss. It was a kiss filled to the brim with love, happiness, and appreciativeness.  

And in that moment, there was only one coherent thought on his mind as he listened to his children’s giggles in the background and felt the weight of your love against his lips: How lucky was he that he went from a man destined to live a solitary life to a man with a wonderful wife and three children made from love?

The luckiest man alive, that was for sure.

***

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[whereflowersbloom]

La tendresse

She wakes with sunlight bright in her face, body aching all over and a slight headache. She felt like she might vomit but swallowed it down. She had been worse off before from a little wine sickness and survived. Rhachel sat up slowly, closing her eyes when the world tilted dangerously. When she figured she was steady enough, she opened them again.

The sun was streaming in through her open window, painting pinks and orange hues in the sky. Though the shadow led her to believe it was later than she normally woke. How long had she slept? It’s usually the birds that woke her up, their chirping a sweet melody that reminded her of homeland or the warm, familiar sensation of Damian’s lips wandering the curves of her body. She looked around, and spotted a flower on the little table next to the bed along with a breakfast tray of something. There were a few thick slices of Ma’rouk bread, some figs and grapes, and something that looked like rice custard.

She picked up the white rose, noticing the little card tied to the stem with a delicate silver ribbon. ‘To my lovely Princess of thorns, this flower pales in comparison to your beauty and grace. I’ll come find you after my council meeting. With fondness Damian.” Immediately a smile was curving her lips and all she could think about was her Damian. ‘Love can blossom over time just as it can capture you in a single breathe’ Lady Z had told her once before coming to the land of Sand for the tourney. One moment with him had been enough to set her world ablaze. His eyes like wildfire ignited her soul and engulfed her completely in the flames of ardor.

The first fingers of the coming winter caressed her bare legs, a false spring giving way to chill. The thin robe she wore did little to help her chill from the open window, the ivory satin clinging to her torso and hips but providing no heat. The last days of autumn brought a freezing cold breeze and even behind the safety of the red mountains, the blistering hot deserts of Nanda Parbat were not safe.

Soon it would be winter and it meant her seven and ten nameday was coming as well. Much had changed since she married Damian, she thought dropping her hands to the soft curve of her belly. Almost unnoticeable but there was no doubt a life was growing inside her womb.

The reason of her morning sickness became obvious after the imperial physician asked when was the last time she bled. She had not bled for two moons, she realized then. There had been a look of such happiness on Damian’s face when she told him the wonderful news and suddenly he was the sun itself. Radiating joy the same way as the colossal star did warmth.

She proceeded to eat her breakfast slowly, keeping almost all of it it down despite her stomach protesting. Kori was missing at the moment. Perhaps she was letting her take a rest from court. Nonetheless, she still had duties to attend that could not be ignored. Just as she was finishing her meal, someone knocked on her chamber’s door.

“Come in.” She replied, assuming it was Kori and preparing to greet her. The door groaned when it swung open, protesting. To her surprise, she met familIar green eyes she knew too well.

Damian.

“Awake now?” He murmured with an slightly amused expression. Her cheeks warming faintly at his question.

“The babe seems to be restless just like his father.” She pressed a hand to her stomach where she imagines their child to rest. After a brief moment she asks. “Is the council meeting over?”

“I left for a moment.” Damian said with a twinge of disappointment as he was reminded they still had much to discuss. He parted his lips as if to speak, but closed it again, thinking carefully of his words as he didn’t want to stir her emotions. “I wanted to spend time with you before I ride north with Jon.”

Her chest tightened painfully. Damian was riding with Jon up the snowy Kunlun mountains to distribute thick garments and goods for the less fortunate. She tried to remain neutral and collected as the crown princess she was, but her voice faltered, betraying her distress. “You could take me with you.”

“I do not want to risk your good health.” Damian shook his head lightly, the tension evident on his clenched jaw. He understood that she did not went to part from him but given her condition. It was best his wife stayed in the capital as he could not risk his heir. “Conner and Jayson will stay behind to protect you.”

The thought that this child in her womb could die sent jolts of heartache through her bosom. She just nodded, shaking off such dark thoughts.

Even if she was raised to be dutiful queen, it took her some time after marrying into the Al Ghul house to understand such a responsibility bore a heavy weight. Watching her every step as Damian assured there were enemies between them at court. Life was filled with rules and expectations she was if being frank unprepared for.

“Come lay with me.” She pleaded gently, reaching out an arm and patting the empty space next to her. She was far too tired to do much else.

Promptly, Damian kicked the door shut behind him. Ghosting to the large bed, climbing on before lying next to his wife. She nestled close to him, enjoying the warmth he provided, letting her head fall to the side to admire his face, and he did the same, those otherworldly indigo eyes bright and alive, burning with pure devotion.

“I’ll think of you every day we are apart.” Damian grasped her left hand, kissing the palm. “Both of you.” He added as one of his hands slid to the swell of her belly, stroking it tenderly.

His fingers travelled up, ghosting along her jaw until he's cupping her face, like she’s fragile and precious, a treasure to be hoarded. Damian was a generous and passionate lover, mouth moving over hers tenderly only pausing to whisper words of love and reassurance. She reacted instinctively, responding in kind to his probing tongue.  

“I love you.” She breathed against his mouth. Damian’s expression softened, and for a beat he looks younger, much more like a simple young man in love than the future ruler of the Nanda Parbat.

He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder, a gentle caress of his lips on her skin. “You are my queen, Rae. My only queen.�� His words achingly soft and genuine.

“After the babe is born. I promise to take you to Siodonna.” He murmured against her neck, his warm breath sending chills down her spine.

The word piqued her Interest. Damian had mentioned it several times while narrating tales of his ancestors and foreign lands he wished to explore. It’s said to be so beautiful it took your breath away. The Homeland of his grandmother, lady Shyla, who came from the tribe of Four Winds. Faraway land of the gray wind and freedom. The city of Sidhe rumored to be built high in the sacred mountains of Rudrà.

“Truly?” Rhachel asked with glee in her voice. She covered her mouth with her hand to hide a hearty laughter when Damian nodded solemnly.

Oh Gods, how she longed for the freedom to roam where she pleased with her husband. To have some time for themselves away from court and royal duties. It won’t be long. It won’t be long before their babe is born.

He gazed at her, his expression bore a twinkling smile. “You have my word.”

“You wish for a boy or girl?” The question slipped past unguarded lips. She never worried about the gender of her child before but the Azarathian queens gave birth to girls as the mystical gifts were inherited only by women. Perhaps Damian wanted a son as any ruler wanted a male heir.

His brows raised at the sudden question. For a beat appeared to be genuinely considering how to answer when he merely shrugged. “A healthy child.”

“Damian...” She pressed as nervousness palpitated in her chest. Chewing on her lower lip as she usually did when distressed. “What if it’s a girl?”

His furrowed his brows. “What would you like to name it if it’s a girl?” It shouldn’t have surprised her that he wanted to have her opinion on the name, but it did. She hadn’t thought about it.

“Manon.” The young woman answered. Would Damian like the name for their child? She envisioned a little girl with silver tresses and golden skin as the sun’s rays, and bright emerald eyes as the man she loved. “In my homeland it means blessed child.”

Damian smiled in content. “Our child is surely a blessing.”

“If it’s a boy, you can name it.” She ventured.

Damian breathed out a sigh. “Grandfather would want a strong name like Ra’ miel.” Rhachel immediately frowned. She was not entirely sure she wanted their child named after a past Al Ghul king as some of them did not have particularly great reigns. His green eyes flicked down to her belly, fingers caressing fondly and his smile widened. “We can think of one together when the times comes.”

“Boy or girl, it does not matter.” Damian’s orbs were twin pools of tenderness and awe. He tapped the tip of her nose affectionately. “I shall love any child you bear.”

A radiant smile graced Rhachel’s features, heart overflowing with joy at the declaration. The future seemed more hopeful, the weight of worry lifted off her chest. Damian was right; it did not matter if she gave birth to a boy or girl. This was the fruitful result of their love and sole heir to the Al Ghul throne. . Azar please grant your protection to this child of mine, the princess prayed in silence, her hand on her abdomen.

Yooooo. Have some damirae dorm your favorite teacup. 👀👀👀👀

I wrote this sleep-deprived so there’s probably mistakes but I’ll edit soon. This is for the damirae week.

Babies and Damirae fluff and shadows of thorns. Clarifying this is not a chapter but a Spin-off. I tried to avoid including spoilers. 🙈🙈🙈💜💜

@chromium7sky @carnationmilk @tweepunkgrl @amethyst-witch-05 @ravenfan1242 @opheliawillowbrook @alerialblu

[theholycovenantrpg]

In the beginning was ORIAS, a DEMON loyal to the cause of the DEMONS. They are said to be IMMORTAL and use THEY/THEM pronouns. In this New Testament they serve as a MEMBER of the VICES. Blessed be their name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

When God dug His hands into the earth’s soil, His first children sprouted up from it: that is how Orias came to be. They were first mortal, a strange creature which seemed to have stolen a shred of God’s divinity in its birth. The people buckled before them and proclaimed them God’s Messenger: in exchange for their divine interference, they surrendered their first children, whom Orias transformed into the first witches of the earth. Seduced by Lucifer, they are not merely a demon but also the Original Witch, a primeval fountain from which all dark sorcery flows. In Hell, they communed with the planets which hung suspended above and earned their visions, all the while breathing life into dark totems; rites and rituals which their children scattered across the earth. Orias’s abilities extend far beyond mere prognostication. Uniquely endowed with the ability to both cast and create incantations, they are also a sacred alchemist, supernally guided by the world’s natural elements. Baptised as the Vice of Greed, they reprise their ancient role on earth; all creatures flock toward them with empty bellies, hoping to sate themselves on their magic. Orias’s witchcraft is not inwrought but rather a teachable medium: though first among them, it has been known to fail. At once luring and repelling, their wings are composed of granite-grey feathers and, when harnessing their divinity, they wear a silver veil over their eyes.

THE HISTORY.

Even some of the most terrible creatures were only mortal once—and yet, even when they were only flesh and bone, Orias hummed with something ancient. Divinity passed quietly around the light, the sun brushed lazily over their body; to fully embrace it was to glimpse a vestige of God. All around them, there was pestilence and plague, empty bellies and a black-mouthed void, but under the wet forest foliage they waxed with light. As God’s children grew gaunt in famine, his creation curling at the sides from rot, primeval power gathered around Orias. From their hands, divination and magic entered the world: they called them enchanter, spell-caster—neither was right, neither fit, nothing quite captured the strange unaccountability of their gifts. Orias was not a witch, but a fountain, and a world of sorcery spilled forth from them. Such power, however, does not remain hidden for long. It was to the desperately hungry that the leaves carried its whispers—soft-spoken, they sang of a figure with strange power lying fallow in the forest. By their hand, they blessed harvest as effortlessly as they raised the dead. Fatal wounds were salvaged by nothing more than a vial of pomade and their touch. As if a spectre of God, they tilted their neck up to greet the sky and the stars sighed down their secrets to them. There was no explanation for the divinity that hooked itself between Orias’ ribs: they knew not what they were, or where they came from. But the people didn’t care to investigate—after all, they were not searching for answers. They were searching for help.

When your maker forsakes you, you will sign away your soul to anything for a sliver of solace, even a monster. Hands pulled together in supplication, the people heralded them as God’s Messenger, a prophet, whittled in the Heavens and floated down to the earth by their Creator. Whether their gifts had fallen from the clouds or crawled up from beneath the rock debris, however, Orias couldn’t possibly say. All they knew was this: there was something in them, certainly, but it wasn’t God. When the people finally sought them out, half-starved and falling onto their knees in the marsh-mud, one could not ignore the strange sensation their beauty left them with. At once transcendent and terrifying, Orias seemed to them like a providence they could believe in: they could not look away, regardless of the cold sweat that washed over them, like the creeping fingers of a thousand hands. When Orias hummed back to them the price of service, the people cut the payment willingly from their own ribs. That was God’s design, was it not? For all you take, you must also give back. Orias cared little for material possessions, for wealth: what they demanded was far more testing. In exchange for their practice, a pool of sorcery drawn from every element in the earth, Orias demanded heredity, legacy, future. What they coveted was lineage, a pond of offspring onto which they could unload their new rites, their balms and tomes, primordial secrets, scribbled in ink. The people surrendered their children and heirs, cupping that promise of divinity in their hands. In their offerings, Orias passed on a new folklore, and in turn, Orias’s votaries knelt before them, like beggars at an altar, their lips pursed in unbroken litany.

From litany grew belief, and from belief spouted worship—before long, reverence crept up from the very soil around them. Prayer began to bury itself deep beneath the layers of the earth, like a long, golden talon dipped in oil, and it was Lucifer who answered its call. Not one to indulge a rival in idolatry, nor share the supplications of those who bowed and scraped, he threw down a gauntlet. Go on stealing morsels were else there could be gold, or tread with him triumphantly into Hell. Refusing to shrink from what had already been written, Orias fixed Lucifer’s fingers between their own: such was their destiny, or so the stars had told them once. On earth, their children went on bleeding the ground of its magic, transforming themselves into great totems, and in Hell Orias sharpened their power, widening their third eye to the heavenly bodies which hung suspended in the night sky. The galaxy reached out its spangled hands, spiralling obediently above Orias. A crooked star, the night creatures called them, watching crazed as Orias carved out incantations with their tongue. As they felt their magic wrap itself around them, the monsters purred, keeling their heads below a thing more deity than demon; more scripture than servant. As power sank towards them, so did prestige, and thus when Lucifer was uprooted from his throne, Orias did not feel the need to bend like a carapace around him. They took a crowbar to their rib and pried out the old pieces of themselves left in them; exchanging one benefactor for another, they settled themself at the feet of the son, climbing to sit above a throne of their own.

Where their companions, blood-mouthed, tore their way up through the earth, Orias floated diaphanously up to its gates. Like the moon that circles the sun only to eat it, their old world seemed to stretch out its hands to greet them. Their return split the earth in two: some spat blood at the soil they tread, disparagingly branding them False Prophet, Spring of Evil, yet there were others who clung to their steps, devoted, each movement as enthralling as the next. They loved them for it. Orias did not care—it was not love for which they had been spewed out into the world. They desired to chew on worship. Between the interludes of their absence, the world was much changed from the one they had left behind, yet they marvelled at the way that their spell seized every hole and void, every pair of desperate hands, every stomach yawning with unfed longing. Seers sought to commune with the stars; men tunnelled their ravening fingers into the dirt, searching for relics; humankind turned to tracing billows of the waters, pencilling over rings of oak, mapping the placement of the sun, hoping that the world might betray its secrets to them. One might suspect a creature so divorced from themself to shrink at the sight, but Orias did not. Bowing deeply beneath them, all beings of the New Testament beseeched their intervention. They each fell at the base of a defaced altar and offered prayer blind: it hardly mattered whether their supplications grew out of hunger or longing, strung together for an itching palm or a closed fist—they made vagrants of themselves. Between magic sighs and religious whispers, Orias begins to feel themself splintering into something triune: the prophet, the monster, the god. There are some who revile yet another site of worship. Yet, Orias’s body drones with power—such is their design.

THE CONNECTIONS.

ISOLDE WICKEN: Antithesis. She is a fascination of theirs, but not of the infatuating kind. The two of them have never interacted, have never sighed a word to each other, have never exchanged anything more but an entranced glance—but then, perhaps they don’t need to. A glance tells Orias all they need to know. They call Orias the False Prophet for good reason: they are the Great Pretender, a drove of impious wanderers at their altar, while Isolde is the holy Priestess to whom the worshipping masses flock to listen. Perhaps she has become an object of envy—but then, perhaps not. If they held Isolde’s position in higher esteem, they might view her as an adversary; a threat to be vanquished underfoot. But the power of the Hundred-Eyed God only pales in comparison to the primordial force of the Original Witch, they who made themself a monstrous god. Isolde is their opposite in every conceivable way. Gentle, faithful, good. Though capable of seeing the end of all things, subjective as her visions may be, she still seems to shift uncomfortably at Orias’s presence—as if she doesn’t know how all this will end. They’d be lying if that wasn’t the source of great amusement to them.

ESTIENNE WICKEN: Scheme. They are an empty void, and still they swallow something. When Orias looks at Estienne, they don’t see something beautiful nor powerful—instead, they seize an advantage. Both of them are far more comfortable lurking in the shadows than standing in the light, tilling at the dark as if it were the fifth and final element, coaxing it into performing their bidding. In them, Orias senses an irrevocable ambition; an unstoppable hunger. When they meet their following gaze, they detect an invincible appetite, as if their ravenous teeth have already been clenched around the shape of the world. There is something palpably terrible in them, something dark and slinking and wicked, and that in itself yields a golden opportunity to Orias—power to harness or corrupt, they haven’t yet decided. After all, a mortal cannot be expected to fell an entire horde of demons or legions of archangels all alone, even one as powerful as Estienne. Should they hope to transform themself into a conqueror, they’d need friends, allies, and Orias is in a unique position to indulge them. What’s more, their connection to the All-Seeing Priestess of the Hundred-Eyed God is all too delicious to resist, but that is all part of their game.

AZAZEL: Companion. Side-by-side, they are a strange sight to behold: one an ancient soul with the earth’s power at their fingers, the other a dark dove, her Hellhounds yawning faithfully at her side. And yet, the two are cut from the same substance. Spells, enchantment, bewitchment—none of these things are strangers to them, and a gossamer veil arranges itself over them both. They are both carved from mystery, shaped by secrets. Azazel is perhaps the only creature that Orias had genuinely, truly loved; whether this is due to her divine ability to lull or the puzzlingly gentleness she has shown them, Orias doesn’t know. But they would do anything from her. In the dark, Orias casts off for their companion anything ugly; anything real. Wielding the earth in their hands, they craft it into a shape that is attractive to Azazel. There is something maternal in their affection—over the centuries they have spent together, the desire to ward off all that would do her harm has grown like a seed in their chest. It is because of this that the Antichrist has entrusted her protection to them: not as a soldier, but as a friend to stand by her side.

RAHMIEL: Storyteller. There is something terribly melancholy about poetry. Always, it is spilling from the heart, a pool of profound tragedy wrested tightly between broken ribs, and Orias feels this tragedy in Rahmiel’s gold-strung words keenly. He’s not a creature they can say they historically gravitated toward, exactly, finding far more friends in monsters than in archangels, but they’ve come to quietly appreciate their exchanges as he imparts his visions of history—of all the things that hid from Orias’s view once they disappeared beneath the soil. It was Rahmiel who helped them realise the weight of their power here on earth, and the degree to which their rituals had burgeoned; through his eyes and words, they are capable of watching the lives of their children unfold, and their children—and so forth. Nevertheless, their interest in him goes far beyond mere education. Simply put, they’re two creatures that shouldn’t get along, that shouldn’t find such lulling comfort in each other’s company, but still they do. Rahmiel has become, in some shape, Orias’s North Star; their holy compass.

Orias is portrayed by Ashley Moore and was written by CAS. They are currently OPEN.

[mystarsforanempire]

Once

In the rarest of cases, two such souls will revolve in orbit of one another for centuries on end, at most touching for a second or passing by each other, until finally they collide in a burst of stardust and certainty, and can never again be truly pried apart.

Loki and The Doctor meet once. After that, they meet again, and again, and again.

Ao3. 1.6k. Rated T. 

It is sometimes the case that two beings, for whatever reason, are drawn to each other despite the odds of the universe and the laws of time. Sometimes, such beings might brush past each other like ships in the night, their souls for a moment entwined and yet destined never to meet again. At other times, so star-crossed a pair will be united from birth, and will never know the sorrow and heart-ache of parting until Death comes for his toll.

In the rarest of cases, two such souls will revolve in orbit of one another for centuries on end, at most touching for a second or passing by each other, until finally they collide in a burst of stardust and certainty, and can never again be truly pried apart.

One

You see him, but it doesn’t matter.

It’s the barest glimpse on the corner of a foreign street as you wear a second skin that is not your own, and you move forwards without another thought.

Two

You shake his hand in a crowded throne room, once. His hand is warm, and dry, and you notice how well-kept his fingernails are in comparison to his tousled, bowl-cut hair.

He doesn’t seem to matter.

He doesn’t.

Three

He is an old man with glossy, silver hair, and he picks up your coin when you drop it upon the cobbled streets of blue brick. You play the young girl delighted at his charm and chivalry, and you beat at him. As your lost coin is replaced in your small, dark-skinned palm, you find yourself struck by the sadness in his eyes.

Four

The scarf is, in many ways, an obscenity.

At its numerous, ridiculous knitted panels, you smile, and when you see it has drawn through the mud on its journey through the villages, you drop to one knee and offer its owner a sweet smile as your seiðr weaves through the dyed wool, drawing the brown stains from their moorings.

Clean, you let the garment go, and you are on your way.

You forget him. He remembers you. You are both still so very young.

Five

You see him run by one day, and the fleeting thought lingers in your head – where is that man going? For what reason does he hurry so?

You never find out.

Six

You sell him an umbrella, each panel brightly coloured, complementing and clashing with his ugly, motley suit in turns. You both have the moment’s suspicion that you have met before, and yet neither of you recognizes the other. You do not, after all, know each other.

You will not for quite some time.

Seven

You steal his hat once. You are a child with raven hair and a playsuit of woven leaves, and he doesn’t mind when you hand it back – he laughs, sweetly, like a man with children of his own.

For decades after, you remember the hatted man with the fatherly smile.

Eight

You dance together, once, in an old-fashioned dance hall: you recognize his clothes from a long since-past Migardian era. Despite his blue-eyed, soft-featured beauty and his lovely hair, you offer him your hand with the assurance that you will not fall in love with him even if he holds you tightly to him in your dance together.

He laughs, pulls you flush against him, and lays his hand upon your hip.

You cannot help but wonder if he thinks you will love him, but you do not, and you forget him as easily as you forget the dress you wear that night.

He forgets you in kind.

Nine

You pass him once, when you are yet young in your Earth skin, and his glance toward you makes you panic.

“Rad jacket, man,” you say, and the American accent and apparent confidence seem to give him pause. He grins, the expression effervescently bright, and he gives you a nod of recognition before you each go on your way.

Ten

It’s a simple meeting.

For the first time, you notice him, and he notices you, and rather than parting ways, as so many times you have, you move on together. You realize what he is, and the effect of his wide-reaching legend electrifies and excites you: this is a chance you cannot allow to slip through your fingers.

He runs, and you follow him. You run, and he follows you. For once in your life, being chased does not affect in you a sensation of entrapment.

You laugh, and you draw him into a dance with you one night, and if it feels familiar, neither of you say so – you do not tell him a long, stupid scarf would suit him, or that you can imagine him with curly hair, or that you can imagine him carefully manicuring his nails.

You adore him.

You love him as you’ve loved no other in all your years – you have loved so few, even including your brother, your mother, your children, and yet you’ve never loved in the way you love him: you mirror each other at every turn, and he feels so deeply – and yet you do not find his empathy repulsive.

It is endearing, in fact, in a way that surprises you.

You forget, for a while, that Timelords do not die as men do, and that they do not live as you yourself do.

Eleven

You repulse him, and he terrifies you.

He is a storm wrapped in ribbon and soft pastry, heated and cruel in a way that even at your worst, you never were. He is a child, a callous, callous child, and the stars are his playground, and you are nought but an unfavoured toy.

He hurts you, and you let him, until you don’t.

You do not know why.

When you last see him, it is with your hand wrapped tight around his pale throat, threats and barbs upon your tongue that haven’t flourished there in so very, very long.

It hurts you to abandon him, but you will not a place a child who hates you – a child who is not even yours – above an empire.

(You see him just once more: he is broken, and he weeps. Despite yourself, you are as soft and gentle with him as it is possible for you to be.)

Twelve

When you see his face, it shocks you.

You had not expected to see him ever again, and you let out so loud a sound one might think you a babe in arms anew: you grin as you come closer, for he feels so different now, and the change is most welcome.

You offer him cocoa when he visits you at work, and he takes it, settles in an armchair you each pretend wasn’t purchased just for his benefit, and he watches you work, pretends not to be entertained by the genius you both know you possess.

You accept his apologies, his age, his tired hands and tired eyes: you entertain his faux-fierce moods, and you love him as deeply and loyally as you are capable. He accepts your chaos, and your fury, and your love.

He does not pick up your pieces when you are broken: he merely watches as you draw yourself together once more. Perhaps this shows your age. Perhaps it shows his.

You confess to him your thousand sins, and confess to him your virtues. He takes your confession with all the quiet comprehension of a priest, and with the careless affection of a distant god.

You have never known a god like him before. You have known so few beings that make you feel so insignificant and so very, very good.

It is a feeling you adore.

You are sure he will outlive you, and for this, you are grateful.

Over your millennia of study, you have learned such tricks, but there are limits to even your talents. You absorb the split of a time rift as a super nova occurs behind it, within it, for the surrounding stars, planets, galaxies, would all die under such helpless heat. You skywalk in the centre of it all, and you draw it within you: stardust runs through your veins, incandescent energy boils your blood, and worst of all is the time energy that digs its way into your skin. It is not your first selfless act, but it is, without a doubt, your last.

He holds you close, uncomprehending, angry and wide-eyed. You feel as if you are the older of the two of you once more – a balance has been restored – and you smile a warm, tired smile.

Even as that desperate, ineffable agony burns through you, exhausting every part of you, you put your fingers upon his temple, and you close your eyes.

You remember that you do not live as Timelords do, and you know that you will not die as you yourself ought.

Thirteen

When you wake, gasping and dry-mouthed on the TARDIS floor, you are full to the brim with past lives, and Loki’s form is sprawled, cold and lifeless, before you. You have never seen his eyes look so empty, or his mouth so still.

He would want you to simply cast his body to the passing stars, but he is dead, and you make the decisions now.

You bury him on a hill that overlooks a violent ocean, beneath a field of golden grain: once upon a time, Loki you ran here with your children, the very day before one of them slaughtered the other, and Odin killed the first.

As you grieve for him, for yourself, you grieve through both his eyes and your own.

Rather than parting ways, from here, you move on together.

[emeraldwaves]

Filtered Beauty (Ao3) Beginning | Previous | Next

Noctis has seen many beautiful sights. He can remember them all so damn well; how Insomnia often looks at night, the view from the Rock of Ravatogh, a Galden Quay sunset, Prompto's smile when he snaps the most perfect shot, Luna's look of gentle understanding while they share a meal together. So many beautiful things have blessed Noctis' life.

But all of them pale in comparison to how he feels when his daughter opens her eyes for the first time. Her irises are a pale blue, and though Noctis knows most infant eyes look like that, he can't imagine they'll change as her eyes match Lunafreya's perfectly.

Noctis seems to forget everything when he looks at her, even breathing. Her skin is so smooth, her cheeks round and pudgy. Babies have always been cute, this isn't anything groundbreaking, and yet Noctis can seem to get over just how cute she is. "I will protect you," he whispers. "From anything that tries to hurt you, you are the most important thing in my life," he says.

"See, I knew you'd be a perfect father," Lunafreya says softly. Her voice sounds tired, the birth still taking a toll on her and her body.

"We need to give her a name," Noctis says.

"I've been trying, darling," she replies, placing her hand on Noctis' arm. "But someone keeps rejecting everything I put on the table."

"I know, I know," Noctis chuckles, keeping his voice low. He glances to his Queen, seeing how beautiful her smile is, even when she's so tired it looks as though she's lit up the entire room with her radiance.

"Hmm," he hums. "What about Stella? She will be as bright as a star, and light up the night sky just as well as her mother does," he says.

"Stella," she whispers, the name falling off of her tongue smoothly, as though it were meant to be there all along. "Yes," she says. "Stella sounds lovely...I love it," She shuts her eyes, laying back against the headboard. Lunafreya looks weak, and Noctis is happy to leave her be so she can get more rest.

He leans over, brushing her hair to the side, kissing her forehead. "Sleep, my love. I'll watch Stella."

"Are you sure?" she mumbles.

"Oh yes, very," he chuckles. There's nothing he's more sure of. "Plus I know Prom, Iggy, and Gladio are eager to meet her."

"Of course," Lunafreya hums softly, keeping her eyes closed.

Stepping out of the room, he clutches Stella to his chest, so nervous of dropping her, or being too clumsy, as though she's a fragile, tiny object that could break at any given moment.

"Noct!" Prompto's voice echos through the hallway. He's alone, and Noctis wonders where Ignis and Gladio are, though he's happy to share a private moment with Prompto. Noctis hasn't seen him all day, and barely at all the past few days leading up to the birth. Prompto's excitement isn't unprecedented. Of course Noctis is excited to see him too. However, Prompto's eyes widen, and he slows his approach when he realizes who Noctis holds in his hands.

"Is that her?" he asks, excitement floating through his tone. "Can I see her? Did you guys name her yet?" The questions keep pouring out, he's so excited to see the tiny baby girl. He peers over Noctis' arm, looking down at her soft face.

"We're naming her Stella," Noctis replies, seeing as Prompto has already answered the other questions himself. "Do...you want to hold her?" he asks.

Prompto takes a step back, his hand slowly coming to his chest. He knows how important Noctis' daughter is to him already, how he never wants to leave her side even though it's been such a short amount of time, he can tell by the way Noctis' dark eyes shimmer when he looks at her. "I would be honored," Prompto says.

"Well no need to be so formal and intense," Noctis snorts. Carefully, he hands Stella to Prompto, helping him hold her head up in the proper way.

Prompto's face turns bright red, his smile growing wider and wider the longer he looks at the tiny baby girl. "Hi Stella," he says quietly. "I'm gonna be your cool Uncle Prom!"

"I'll bet she has your smile," Noctis teases.

"Noct, you know that's impossible," Prompto says trying to keep his voice steady as he gently strokes one finger over the tiny baby's smooth cheek. She's so innocent and small, adorable.

"Nah," Noctis hums softly. "It's not. Your smile is infectious Prom."

That gets Prompto to blush. "Thanks, Noct." His features soften, his smile filled with genuine love. "She's beautiful," he says finally.

"Isn't she?" Noctis smiles, and Prompto hopes that if anything, Stella has Noctis' smile-rare, subtle, but beautiful all the same.

[lilmissmousey]

A Rose by Any Other Name

The snow fell in soft petals over the imposing gray castle, an eternal winter that was becoming more comfortable by the day. Sheltered beneath a worn, shingled roof sat two figures, one vastly larger than the other. To a very distant observer, it would have looked like two young people who were courting. But the truth was far more fantastical.

Belle pushed the snow with the tip of her brown leather boot, listening with rapt pleasure as the deep baritone voice beside her resonated throughout her body. Beast sat close to her on the stone bench inside the gazebo reciting Hamlet, his hulking frame radiating pleasant warmth in the small space “This to thine own self be true-”

“What is your name?” Belle interrupted. As much as she wanted to continue the play, this question had been nesting in her head for some time.

Beast’s sapphire blue eyes tore themselves from the tome in his lap to stare at her, “What?”

“Well,” Belle continued, shrugging her shoulders beneath her cloak, “it doesn’t feel proper to call you ‘Beast’ when that isn’t you’re name. It’s rather rude really.”

“Hmpf,” he looked thoughtful beside her, “To be quite honest, I haven’t heard my true name in a very long time. The servants always refer to me as master. I suppose one just gets used to titles.”

“Well,” Belle grinned, “shall we play a game then?”

“Oh?” Half of the Beasts mouth quirked up into a smirk, “And what game would that be?”

“I will try and guess your name.”

The Beast barked out a laugh. Had Belle not been around him for this long already, the loud sound would have been startling. For a moment, it seemed as though he would refuse, but he only focused his stunningly blue eyes to her brown and said quite seriously, “I could just tell you, you know.”

Belle waved a hand flippantly at him, “Please, where is the fun in that? Shall I start now? No hints!”

He chuckled, “Alright, alright. No hints.”

She leaned forward, seeming to inspect his face. Her proximity was startling. Deep in his powerful chest, Beast could feel his heart picking up a wild tattoo; dear heavens she smelled nice. Like tea and vanilla.

Belle snapped her fingers, “Your name is Jeàn!”

Beast snorted, “Not even close.”

“Hm,” Belle’s dark eyebrow raised, “Raul then.”

“Are you mad? My father was a terrible man, but not that terrible.”

“Leon.”

“I may have a tail now, but I certainly didn’t have one at birth.”

“Paul.”

“Certainly not.”

“Albert.”

The Beast made a gagging noise.

“Oh dear,” Belle laughed, “I think I may have lied and could possibly need a hint.”

How could such a slip of a girl lift his spirits so high? He loved how her voice sounded like chimes. “Oh come now,” The Beast insisted, edging closer to her, “try again. I promised no helping.”

Sighing, Belle looked skyward. After a moment of silence she said, “You are certainly not a Francois, nor are you a Louis. No, I believe you have a strong name. Like all of the literary heroes.”

“You give me far to much credit.” The Beast rumbled.

Belle nudged his arm with her shoulder. She was so small compared to him, so seemingly fragile. He took great care to stay still, pleased when she settled against him, “I feel like you give yourself to little credit,” she insisted, “perhaps you are in fact named Lancelot.”

“Only if you are Guinevere.” He said softly. The Beast had believed he’d spoken quietly enough for her to miss it, but the way she stiffened against him caused him mild panic, “I-I am so sorry. That was out of line, that would insinuate-”

“It’s alright,” she murmured, smiling up at him, “that is a lovely compliment.”

The Beast cleared his throat, looking out across the frozen lake, “Well, my name is not Lancelot either. Do you have anymore guesses?”

Belle looked thoughtfully at him again before saying, “Let me think on it a bit. Will you keep reading?”

The book in his lap opened to the page they had left off on, and The Beast began reading again, as he could refuse her nothing.

-

After a time, he paused and glanced down at her, “Have anymore guesses?”

Belle sighed, stretching her legs out straight in front of her, “I’m afraid to keep guessing. It’s more difficult than I thought it would be.”

“May I give a hint?”

“Please.”

“My name is a little unconventional.”

Belle’s brown eyes lit with interest, “Go on!”

The Beast chuckled, “It is only four letters.”

The wheels in her mind were turning, what on earth could it be?

“Any guesses now?”

After about a minute it was obvious she was becoming frustrated, “I feel quite silly,” Belle admitted finally, “I wanted to be able to guess, but I truly have no idea. I feel like any name I say simply would not suit you!”

Shaking his head, Beast rumbled, “Belle, any name you call me I would answer too.”

He noticed her cheeks tinged pink at that, “I’ve been living in your home and I don’t even know your birth name.” She said, “It makes me feel quite awful. I run through any name and they fall flat compared to you. I always felt like my name was misgiven, so I would feel simply awful to-”

The Beast felt the hair at the nape of his neck bristle, “What do you mean your name was misgiven?”

“I mean,” Belle looked gestured at herself, “look at me. I’m a simple girl from a village where I am called odd at best. I have no fancy clothes or home, I have freckles and eyes are brown. I am thinner than most girls. My boots are always muddy and my hands have callouses. My hair is always a mess so I have to keep it tied back. I am certainly not fair or considered beautiful by society’s standards.”

The Beast shook his head, trying to quell the anger surging through him. What kind of a backwards hovel was this village she came from? “Belle,” he said, voice low and deep like thunder, “your name is pale in comparison to you, so in that way, yes, it does not suit you. There is no name in anyone’s language that could perfectly describe how truly beautiful you are. You are NOT odd. It is not that illiterate sty’s business to call your brilliance odd; I can guarantee that you are more educated than any teacher at the school. You have no time to fuss with fancy garments as you are busy with things that are meaningful to you, and all they would do anyway is cover you up until you are no longer visible.”

She smiled at that, so Beast kept going, “Your freckles are like constellations, I can see the night sky written upon your cheeks and your eyes are the color of earth; those bring me back home and ground me when I feel like floating away. You are built like a nymph, ready to run and fly away in search of adventure at a moments notice. Your boots are muddy because you take care of chores those stuck up cows in the village are afraid to take on themselves, and your hands,”

Felling bold, The Beast reached for her, looking at her first for permission. Belle nodded, offering her hands to him. He held them carefully, bringing them closer to his face. After a moments scrutinizing, he murmured, “Not a callous in sight. They are soft and fair, like silk.” He ran his thumbs across her palms, taking care to not scratch her, “these are the hands of a brilliant mind, the hands of a scholar, of an inventor, and a beautiful woman. And you’re hair,” he released one of her hands, she letting it fall into her lap as The Beast ran the back of his paw down the side of her face, “it is wild yes, but it very much reminds me of you. Even tied back pieces of it refuse to be tamed. That is one of my favorite things about you. You are a lovely looking woman, Belle. Not just the outside, which, to be quite honest is very striking. But it is what is inside that counts the most. Which is why 'winged cupid is painted blind.’ I think your name falls flat to be honest. But it shall do until I can think of something worthy enough of you.”

His paw was still against her cheek, now cupping it and her dark eyes were burning into his, “Will you please tell me your name?” Belle asked, voice wavering.

The Beast swallowed, then leaned forward, lips almost touching her ear,

“Adam.” He whispered.

Pulling back, he was surprised to see her still looking at him, expression very warm.

“It suits you,” She smiled, “Adam.”

Oh, merciful heaven.

Belle suddenly looked concerned, “Are you alright? You look like you have been wounded.”

Adam swallowed the lump in his throat, before managing to say, “Yes, yes I just have not heard that name in a very long time.”

“Would you mind very much if I called you that when we are together?”

“I would be honored.” He said seriously, watching with pleasure as the constellations of her cheeks leaned into his palm for the briefest of moments, before pulling away. “Come Adam, will you continue reading to me, or shall I take a turn?”

Unable to speak anymore, He handed the book in his lap into Belle’s waiting hands. She began to read out loud, her voice sounding very much like the music of chimes and Adam daydreamed of stars.

-

A little different from what I normally write… but I hope you liked it nonetheless ❤️

[gilbertandanne]

Third installment to the Serendipity/Amaranthine universe. How far would you go in order to protect someone you love? WARNING: as with the first two parts in the series, there is an overall trigger warning for abuse (physical, mental, emotional). That, combined with the adult themes in this fic (alcohol, language, situations, etc), are the reason for the rating. Primarily Rucas.

Rating: M

Soundtrack (not at all in order and will be edited as the story progresses)

Word count: 8,935

A/N: I should have read this over one more time in it’s entirety, but I didn’t because I’m really struggling with a lot of insecurity right now (not to mention the numerous rewrites I’ve done to this chapter), so I’m sorry if this is God awful and makes no sense.

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine |

                                                Elysian

Chapter Nine: The Moirai

The Moirai were the three goddesses of fate in Greek Mythology. They controlled the mother thread of life of every mortal from birth to death. They were independent, at the helm of necessity, directed fate, and watched that the fate assigned to every being by eternal laws might take its course without obstruction.

Where do you see yourself in ten years?

It was a question Riley asked herself a lot when she applied to various colleges during her senior year of high school.  She even had to answer that question a few times as she filled out her essays.  Every single one of them contained this well crafted answer that encompassed all of her professional goals.  She wanted to act.  Broadway, she supposed, would be the ultimate accomplishment, but she would be more than happy if she could find steady work doing what she loved.  Her ten year planned consisted of four years of undergraduate studies, several internships at various theaters in the city (if she was lucky), which would lead to being cast in the chorus or perhaps a minor role in a production.  She anticipated being in the background for a while, but that maybe, perhaps, with a little talent and a lot of luck, she may eventually get a starring role sometime.

That was the dream, anyway.

As she reflected on the past week, she realized that not once, in all of those essays and considerations, did she think about what her personal life would be like in ten years.  Yes, she had dreamt of a life with Lucas and their three hypothetical children, but in all of her conscious planning, she never planned for their actual future.  He was always just there, by her side.

Until now.

Until she realized why she never discussed their future with him and why she never even considered answering that question about her personal life.  

For a week, she subconsciously did what Jessica asked her to.  She watched him.  She watched every single emotion that graced his face.  And now, here she was—sitting alone on their hill while everyone else peacefully slept at the house.

The party had lasted all night, just as Lucas predicted.  Everyone finally crashed around dawn, around the time Pappy Joe was just getting up for the day.

Riley tried to sleep.  She knew that maybe if she slept, she wouldn’t feel quite as off kilter as she felt all night.  Two hours later, she was up and wandering around the property.  Sleep didn’t help her at all.  She couldn’t turn her brain off from everything Jessica had told her.  It was as if Lucas’s ex-girlfriend had pulled back this veil Riley had thrown over her entire relationship with him.  Had she been wandering around in a dream world for the last two years?  Was that her way of trying to protect their relationship from the world around them?  They had finally found one another again—after Charlie, after the issue with her father, after the fight with Farkle—after all of that, they had chosen one to be with one another.  They loved one another.  They were right for one another.  They made each other better.  With him, she never felt more like herself.  She had learned how to forgive and move on because of him.  She learned how to trust again because of him.  She wasn’t weighed down by the past anymore.  He gave all of that to her.

But now, she realized, overcoming the past didn’t automatically mean that their future together was set in stone.

She felt the color drain from her face as she watched the water ripple across the lake.  She knew she needed to have this conversation with herself before she had it with him.  She had to face this reality before she could attempt to put all of it into words.

She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes.  The first image she saw was the smile on his face when he talked about those piglets.  As much as she loved him, and as much as she loved that smile, she knew what that smile meant.  It meant that this was his happy place.  This was his home.  This was where he felt free.  This place, this beautiful farm, his incredible family—all of it—helped to make him who he was now.  She had never seen him as happy as he appeared to be this week.  

She slowly laid down before she opened her eyes.  He had helped her find her salvation—her way out of the darkness that had strangled her for months.  He had always been there for her, even after she pushed him away.  

He loved her.

She loved him.

She knew that he would deny the fact that they had a problem.  She knew that he would insist that he would be more than happy to follow her to the ends of the earth if she wanted him to.

But, that was just it.

She didn’t want him to.

She wanted him to be happy.  She wanted him to always feel as happy and as free as he seemed to be this summer.  She wanted him to continue to rebuild his relationship with his father.  She wanted him to be able to be near his family in case Pappy Joe needed him.  She wanted him to be able to take care of the farm if Pappy Joe was ever unable to.  She didn’t want him to compromise any of his dreams for her.

She knew that Lucas would never ask her to give up her dreams to move here.  As Riley looked up at the crystal clear blue sky above her, she knew that she would never ask him to do the same.  In fact, she would do everything in her power to ensure that he ended up exactly where he was meant to be.  

Even if Charlie was being paroled at that very minute, even if the thought of him wandering around as a free man scared her, it was nothing compared to the fear that washed over her at the thought of Lucas being pulled back into that world.  After all, it wasn’t a matter of if Charlie was going to be released; it was only a matter of when.  Some day, maybe today, he would be released, and according to Lucas, he would happily seek him out in a misguided attempt at revenge.

Had Lucas changed in the last four years?  Absolutely.  But, it wasn’t as if he was magically cured from all the anger that he once held.  Yes, he had let go of a lot of his rage, but Riley knew that part of who he used to be would always be contained within him.  Had he learned how to control it?  Absolutely, but when Maya brought up Charlie, Riley could see that unresolved anger flash in his eyes.  She could practically feel it roll off of him.  He had let go of a lot of things over the last four years, but Charlie was still an unsettled issue for him—one in which Riley knew wouldn’t be resolved in the same way as it was done with Lucas’s father.  

Charlie wasn’t worth it.  Riley knew it, but Lucas was still completely unreasonable with it came to the subject of Riley’s ex-boyfriend.  If she couldn’t convince him to let go of his hatred, then the least she could do is protect him from it.  He had always protected her and she had always protected him—even if it meant protecting him from himself.

The thought of Lucas going from blissfully happy to murderously angry made her skin crawl.  She couldn’t do that to him.  Charlie was never his problem.  

So, no matter when it happened, whether it was today or whether it was seven years from now, she knew that she would do everything in her power to shield Lucas from diving back into the world they managed to walk away from.

As she wandered back toward the main house, she was nowhere closer to figuring anything out.  All she knew was that her future was in New York.  Her family was there.  Her friends were there.  Her, hopeful, career was there.  His future was here.  His family lived here.  Most of his friends lived here.  He was happy here.

What were they supposed to do?  For as long as she could remember, she was taught that love could help overcome anything, but this—she wasn’t sure how it could overcome something like this.  What kind of life would they be able to have if one of them gave up their dreams for the sake of the other?  Jessica was right.  They would grow to resent one another. Something like this, she couldn’t hide from him.  It hurt too much to think about.  She had happily remained in denial land for years now, but after last night—after the last week—she owed it to herself and to him to talk about it.  They hadn’t discussed their future at all, but now, it was all she could think about.  She didn’t even think about Charlie as much as she thought she would because even that seemed to pale in comparison to this.

They had no future together.

She spent the entire week trying not to think about it and the entire night last night coming up with a hundred different possible scenarios about their future, but not one of them ended in a ‘happily ever after’.  They all involved one of them making some kind of sacrifice for the other.

She knew that she needed to talk to him about it.  She knew that this was something too important to discuss over the phone when she got back.  If she waited until he returned to the city, she knew that it would completely consume her.  She was already barely speaking to him because of Charlie.  This was something she wasn’t even sure she could keep to herself.  At the same time, how could she even begin to bring this up?  She knew what it would lead to.  She knew what opening her mouth would do to them, but wasn’t the whole point of bringing it up now was so they could somehow figure out what their next step was—if there was even a next step they could take?

God, there had to be something.  There had to be some kind of way for each of them to get what they wanted out of life without having to sacrifice each other.  Surely they didn’t go through everything they did in high school just to fall apart due to forces beyond their control?  They were stronger than that, weren’t they?  Couldn’t the love they shared for one another overcome any obstacle—even their own conflicting dreams for the future?

She felt nauseous.  She felt like she was going to pass out.  As she walked by the stables, she briefly wondered if this was it—if this was the last time she would see this farm, these stables.  Would tonight be her last time on the hill with him?  

It couldn’t be.  No, that wasn’t a possibility.  They had survived so much.  It couldn’t just end.  Could it?

It was already mid-afternoon before the others woke up.  By the time Riley had arrived back from her hours long walk around the property, everyone else had just gotten ready for the day—what was left of it anyway.

The moment she entered the house, Lucas could tell that something was wrong.  Truthfully, he noticed that she seemed preoccupied the previous night, but had managed to convince himself that she must have just been tired.  They had a really long day yesterday and staying up all night probably didn’t help anything.  He realized that his own exhaustion from the previous night must have clouded his judgment, because after being able to sleep for about eight hours, he immediately sensed the heaviness that surrounded his normally cheerful girlfriend.  This was different than how she had been for the last month.  She seemed more out of sync, more contemplative, depressed even. He had never seen her look like that before—even when she went through the ordeal with Charlie, even when she saw him at his absolute worst when he got into that fight with Farkle.  This was something completely different, and it scared the shit out of him.

One look at her boyfriend, and she knew she was going to fall apart.  She felt the tears immediately sting the back of her eyes as they looked at one another.  She knew her face had already given herself away.  Charlie she could hide from him, but this?  This was something else entirely.

He wanted to go to her.  He needed to find out what had happened, but he was petrified to say anything.  His legs felt like lead as he stood in the middle of his grandfather’s living room.

Someone had to say something.  Someone had to ask the obvious.  Someone had to make some kind of move.

“So, Chubbie’s for our last night here, right,” Maya asked as she breezed into the living room.

“I’m down for that,” Zay responded as he entered the living room from the boys’ room.

Riley was the first to break eye contact as she forced herself to glance at her best friend.  “Y-Yeah,” she stammered before she cleared her throat.  “It’s…tradition…for the last night.”

“Did someone say ‘Chubbie’s’,” Farkle asked as he entered the living room.

Maya laughed.  “Anxious to dive into another plate of ribs?”

“Well, you know, it’ll be the last time I can get them for awhile, so I might as well, right?”  He glanced at Lucas.  “What time do they open?”

“Around 4,” he absentmindedly answered as he continued to stare at his girlfriend.  That one look from her had completely changed his entire mood.  Something was very, very wrong, and while he knew he needed to know what it was, he dreaded hearing the answer.

“It’s nearly 3:30 already,” Maya noted.  “Geez, time flies when you sleep all day.”

“Yeah, I hate that we slept most of the day,” Zay began as he sat down on the couch, “but last night was worth it, wasn’t it?”

Maya laughed as she sat down next to him.  “I have to admit that it was probably the best 4th of July celebration I’ve ever been to…and it wasn’t even the 4th.”

“Yeah,” Zay nodded, “It’s a pretty awesome tradition.  I’m glad you guys were able to experience that—at least once anyway.”

Maya glanced at Riley.  “Are you about ready to go get something to eat?”

“Sure,” she answered with a small smile.  “Are you guys?”

“Absolutely,” Farkle answered.

Riley barely touched her food.  She merely spent thirty minutes pushing it around on her plate so the others would think that she had eaten something.  

Lucas wasn’t fooled.  His gaze never wandered very far away from Riley ever since she came back from her walk.  With every passing second, he became more and more concerned. He had tried to be patient and wait for her to come to him, but his patience was non-existent now.  There was no way she was going to get on that plane tomorrow without telling him what was going on.  It wasn’t fair to him.  It wasn’t fair that he had to watch her pretend that nothing was wrong when in reality, it looked like the entire world had ended.

He didn’t eat.  He couldn’t even pretend to eat.  Every single thought he had revolved around her.  He knew that she wouldn’t say a word about it around the others and not while they were out in public.  He also knew that they were going to sit around a campfire later on, and if he had a chance of talking to her alone, that would be time to try to get her alone.  They had only spent one night stargazing since she had arrived.  He didn’t really question it until now, but as he stared at her, he knew that it was more than just fatigue that kept her away.

She was pushing him away.

He had to know why.

He deserved to know why.

“It’s a million degrees out here,” Maya whined as she watched Lucas and Zay stoke the fire in front of them.  “Is the fire really necessary?”

“It’s starting to cool off a little,” Riley told her.  “Besides, we wouldn’t have been able to make smores without it.”

“And you didn’t even eat one of them,” Lucas muttered before he stood up.  Riley loved smores.  They were one of her favorite things about campfires.  It was one reason why campfires became a last night in Texas tradition for them.  She could devour a whole bag of marshmallows on her own.  Like with dinner, Lucas had watched her slide marshmallow after marshmallow on her stick.  She went through the motions of placing it on the graham cracker with a piece of chocolate on top, but whenever it came to actually consuming the treat, she would look at it for a long moment before tossing it into the trash bag.  He knew that none of the others had noticed--all too absorbed in their conversation about the past week—but he had noticed.

Riley furrowed her eyebrows as she watched him walked a few feet away from them.  He had his back turned to the group as he crossed his arms over his chest.  She was certain that the others hadn’t heard him, but she had.  He knew something was wrong and she knew that there was no way she would be able to avoid the conversation she had spent the last hour trying to talk herself out of having with him.

“They’re messy, but they sure are delicious.” Zay pulled out the nearly empty bag of marshmallows from behind Maya.  He turned to Farkle.  “Want another one?”

Farkle’s stomach lurched.  “No, I’m ok.  I think I ate enough tonight to last me for the next month.”

“Are you feeling ok,” Maya asked him when she noticed how pale he seemed.

“No, I—“ his stomach rumbled.  “I…better go.  I don’t feel so good.”  He clutched his stomach as he stood up.  “I’m…sorry.”  He didn’t wait for anyone to respond to him before he made a beeline back to the house.  He swore to himself at that very moment that no matter how delicious they seemed, he was never going to consume another rib for as long as he lived.

“Good night,” Zay called out as he watched Farkle sprint toward the house.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him run that fast.”

“Poor Farkle.” Maya took a bite of her marshmallow.  “Some people just can’t handle three racks of ribs.”

“I’m not sure where he puts it,” Zay chuckled.

“I’m not so sure he was able to put it anywhere,” she pointed out.  “I think that’s why he’s halfway back to the house now.”

While Zay and Maya resumed their discussion about the best part of their week, Riley’s gaze shifted back to her boyfriend.  Through the light the campfire emitted, she could see the tension between his shoulders as his arms remained folded across his chest.  His head was slightly bowed, which meant his gaze was fixated on the ground rather than anything off in the distance.

She wasn’t how long he stood there before he suddenly spun around to face the group once more.

He took a deep breath as his eyes locked onto his girlfriend’s.  “Do you want to go on a walk with me?”

Riley glanced at Maya and Zay for a moment before she turned back to Lucas. “Uh…yeah.”  She swallowed before she stood up.  A wave of panic slowly rolled through her as she walked toward him.

Maya and Zay silently watched the couple leave.  

“Is something wrong with Riley,” Zay asked.  He wasn’t the most perceptive person in their group of friends, so he knew that if he had sensed the obvious tension between the couple, then there must be something to it.  “She’s seemed…off this week.”

Maya laid her stick down next to her as she tried to think of some excuse to give Zay that wouldn’t exactly be a lie.  “She’s just…stressed right now.  She doesn’t want it to ruin the trip, so she’s trying not to think about it.”  There.  Let Zay come to his own conclusion about what it was.  She knew that he would probably assume that it was the apartment search, after all, they all knew how stressed the brunette had been about it.

Zay sat his stick down next to Maya’s.  “Well, hopefully this week helped clear her head a little bit.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, content enough to watch the flames flicker in front of them.  Maya bit her bottom lip as she looked at Zay out of the corner of her eye.  She knew that this would be a completely off the wall question, but she wanted his honest opinion and perhaps the best way to get it would be to take him by surprise.  “Can I ask you something?”

He turned toward her.  “Sure.”

She took a deep breath.  Was she actually about to bring up something that happened in high school?  Before she could second-guess herself, she continued.  “It’s something I’ve been wondering about lately. I know it’s ridiculous, but I can ask you anything, right?”

What on earth could it possibly be that she had to preface it like that?  “Yeah.  Of course.”

“Ok…so…um…when we were in high school…when Lucas first came…he…he said that you used to refer to me as ‘the blonde beauty’.”  She cleared her throat.  “Um…what did that mean exactly?”

Zay chuckled nervously.  “Still remember that, huh?”  He had hoped that time would have been on his side and she would have completely forgotten about it by now, but of course she didn’t.  He wasn’t that lucky.  

“Well, it’s a little hard to forget.”  She clasped her hands together as she felt a wave of anxiety flow through her.  “Did that mean that it was all I had going for me?”

Zay’s smile faltered.  “No.  No.  Maya, I never meant for you to take it like that.”  It was quite the opposite actually.  Lucas had only told the group one thing he said about Maya.  Lucas, thankfully, never told the group everything Zay had confessed about the blonde who currently sat next to him.

“I’m not so sure how else to take it, Zay.”

“Maya, you’re beautiful…yes…but you’re so much more than that.  I told Lucas that when I first met you guys.  Ever since then I’ve…” he sighed as he felt his heart begin to race.  “You’re one of the smartest people I know.  You can turn a blank canvas into a masterpiece.  You would do anything for your friends…you even proved that when everything happened between Lucas and Riley in high school.  You have more talent in one finger than anyone else has in their entire body.  God, I feel like I could listen to you talk about paint drying and be completely enraptured…” he let his words hang in the air as he watched Maya lift her eyebrows in surprised.  Oh God.  What had he just done?  “I…might have said too much.”

Maya bit her bottom lip to keep herself from smiling.  “Was it…true?”  Did he really see her like that?  Was she really more than just a face to him?  Did he really think that she was smart and talented?

He nodded.  “Of course it’s true.  It was true then…and it’s still true now, but…”

“But?”

He took a deep breath.  He wasn’t at all prepared to have this conversation with her.  “I’ve always…had a crush on you,” he confessed.  “Even when you were dating one of my best friends.  I hated myself for it, but it never…went away.”

“Really?”  She couldn’t believe it.  He had a crush on her?  And it never went away?  Did that mean that he, maybe, still had a crush on her now?

“Yeah.  Why do you ask?”  He hoped that this wouldn’t make things awkward between them.  He had gotten pretty good at hiding his feelings for her—especially after she started to date Farkle.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged.  “I feel like…like maybe we’ve gotten closer over the last few years.”  She wasn’t sure what it was, or how it really happened, but while the entire group recovered from everything that happened in high school, she found herself spending more time with Zay.  He had turned into her art museum buddy and in return, she went with him to various dance performances in the city.  They had really bonded over their mutual love of the arts.  She found herself looking forward to spending time with him, and if she was being perfectly honest with herself, she knew that she was going to miss him a lot over the next month.

“Yeah.  Me too.”  She wasn’t completely freaked out by his confession?  Was he dreaming?

“Do you…still like me?”

He looked into her eyes for a long moment.  “Yeah.  I think that’s the only thing that hasn’t—“

He was unable to finish the rest of his sentence as Maya pressed her lips against his.  He ran his hand through her blonde curls as he softly caressed her cheek.  He must have dreamt of kissing Maya Hart off and on for the last seven years.  Now, here he was, kissing the girl of his dreams.

Only, there was still the very real issue of Farkle Minkus that immediately came to his mind.  He slowly pulled away from her.  He knew he couldn’t do this.

“What,” she asked as she slowly opened her eyes.  She was completely confused.  That was easily one of the best first kisses she had ever had.  Did he not feel the same way?  “Was it…not…”

“No,” he shook his head.  “That was…incredible.  I just…what about Farkle?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s throwing up in the bathroom and swearing that he’ll never eat ribs again.  Why?”

“You and he dated for a really long time.”

“We dated in high school, Zay.”

“Yeah, and do you remember what happened when you guys broke up?”  It was two and a half years ago, but Zay knew he’d never forget the aftermath of that breakup.  He was the one who was there for Farkle after the fight with Lucas.  He was the one who listened as Farkle went over every detail of his relationship with Maya as he tried to make sense of where he went wrong.  As much as he liked Maya, Zay knew that he had to take Farkle’s feelings into consideration.

Maya sighed.  “He doesn’t…he isn’t…he doesn’t like me like that anymore.”

“I’m not so sure that’s true, Maya.  I see the way he looks at you.”

She frowned.  “So, because my ex-boyfriend looks at me…it means that I can’t…we can’t…maybe go out on a date or something?”

Zay shook his head.  “We’re finally all ok after what happened senior year.  I can’t risk that.”

Maya looked down as she watched the fire slowly die down in front of them.  He had a point.  She wouldn’t want to risk her friendship with Farkle, but at the same time, she felt something when she kissed Zay.  “Yeah.  Maybe you’re right.”  She slowly looked back up at him.  “But…you know how they say ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?’”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you think that it could work for any destination…like say…Austin, Texas…by a romantic campfire under thousands of stars?”

He swallowed.  “You’re not making this easy.”

“All I’m saying is that…I felt something.  In a five second kiss, I felt something and I’m not sure what it is, but we’re both adults.  Who knows?  It could just be a physical attraction.”

“What do you propose?”

“It’s my last night here.  Riley and Lucas are off on a walk…probably at the hill.  Farkle is…back at the house.  All I know right now is that I want to spend my last night here with you.  You’re going to be here for the next month.  Maybe we can get this out of our system now…and not wonder ‘what if’…and by the time you come back to the city, we can just continue being friends.”  She placed her hand on his knee.  She had never proposed anything like this before, but there was something about all of this that felt right.  Was it just the setting?  She wasn’t sure, but she knew that she needed to find out.  “Zay, come on.  We’ve all dated around.  What’s so different about this?”

Yes, they had dated around, but this was different.  He knew that if he went down this path, Maya Penelope Hart would take up a permanent residence in his heart.  They were by a romantic campfire, under a million stars, and he knew the moment his brown eyes met her blue ones that he wouldn’t be able to deny her anything she asked of him.

“I feel bad just leaving them back there,” Riley began as she sat down at the very spot she spent most of the day at, “but I definitely wanted to get a little more of this view before I leave tomorrow.”  Small talk.  Small talk was good.  Small talk could cut down on the tension that had been building between them over the last few hours.

“You really love this place, don’t you?” He released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he sat down behind her and wrapped his arms around her.  Maybe he had been wrong?  Maybe she was just stressed about everything going on back in New York.  He knew that she didn’t eat much when she was stressed.  Maybe he had overreacted?  

“So do you,” she answered solemnly as she looked up at the same sky that always seemed to give her strength.  It seemed fitting that the clouds above them had prevented her from seeing the countless stars that normally hung overhead.  She closed her eyes when she felt his lips brush against her shoulder.  He wasn’t making this easy, but she knew that she had to say something.  They had to talk about this before she left because not knowing what to do was slowly destroying her.  “Do you…do you think you could see yourself here in a few years…once you graduate?”

He smiled against her shoulder before he placed another kiss against it. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly as he lifted his head to rest his chin on her shoulder.  “I haven’t really thought about it.”  He looked at the scenery around them.  It would be easy to picture them sitting in this very spot in fifty years.  “I love Texas, but I want to be wherever you are.”

“That’s just it, Lucas.”  She craned her neck to look at him.  This was it.  Everything she had been thinking, feeling, and denying was about to come out.  “What if where I want to be and where you want to be places us on opposite sides of the country?”

Lucas frowned.  Where was any of this coming from?  They had just finished their sophomore year in college.  They had plenty of time to figure out where they were going to live.  Was this what had been on her mind?  He nearly sighed in relief as he buried his head in her neck.  He waited a brief moment before he placed a gently kiss at the base of it.  “Riley, I want to be with you.”  He lifted his head as he tightened his grip on her in a non-verbal attempt to reassure her.  “I don’t care if I have to live in a cardboard box in a dark and damp alley for the rest of my life…as long as I can be with you, ok?”  He kissed the top of her head.  “All of this means nothing to me unless you’re here too.”

Riley slowly inhaled before she pulled away from him.  She turned her head back so she could look him in the eyes.  Everything he had said so far was exactly what she knew he would say.  It only strengthened her resolve to continue this discussion.  “What about your career?  Lucas, I can’t let you give all that up for me.”

“Who says I’m giving it up?  There are veterinarians in the city.”  He narrowed his eyes.  “Riley, where is this coming from?”  The moment she pulled away from him, Lucas knew that this wasn’t some moment of panic about where they would end up in two years.  This was something that she had spent considerable time questioning.  

As she watched the seriousness of their conversation slowly dawn on him, she knew that she had to get this out while she still had any kind of strength to.  “It’s coming from the place inside of me that knows that we want to share our lives together, but at the same time, when you really think about it…one of us is going to have to sacrifice what we want in order to do it.”  She swallowed.  She wasn’t sure if she was making any kind of sense, but she knew she had to keep going.  “I love acting.  Tisch has offered me the chance of a lifetime to get my foot in the door so I can really pursue this.  I can’t…I don’t know.”  She sounded completely selfish, and maybe she was.  Maybe she was scared that this whole time he assumed she would move to Texas because she was ‘just an actress’ and that career path wasn’t nearly as significant as being a veterinarian.

“You can’t give up all of that hard work just to come live here.  Riley, I’m not asking you to.”  He knew that they had all the time in the world to figure this out, but as he watched the tears slowly form in her eyes, he knew that she had already spent a considerable amount of time doing just that.  Judging by the look on her face and the growing pit in his stomach, he knew that she had already made up her mind about it.

She slowly looked up into his eyes as the first few tears slid down her cheeks.  “I’m not asking you to stay in the city.”

“You don’t have to ask.”  His voice felt raw as he tried to decipher everything she wasn’t telling him just yet.  The look of defeat in her eyes was more than enough to shatter the protective wall they had built over the last two years to keep the world—and all of its attempts to pull them apart—away from them.

She had to press on.  She had to make him see that they had a problem—a very real one—that couldn’t be resolved in a five-minute conversation.  She had already tried to figure it out on her own, and she couldn’t find a single alternative that didn’t end in at least one of them hating the other.  “What about school?  You can’t study veterinarian medicine in the city.”

He knew that.  He had done the research.  He knew that he would have to go away for that part of his education, but he always thought she understood that.  He thought that she would be ok with having to pursue a long distance relationship for a while.  After everything they had been through, surely distance would be the last thing to ruin them.  “Riley,” his voice slightly quivered, “do you want to break up?”

Riley shook her head despite the fact that tears were freely flowing down her cheeks.  That was why she wanted to talk to him about it.  She didn’t want to break up.  She didn’t want to give this up.  She needed his help to figure all of it out.  “No!  I just…maybe this is why I haven’t…why we haven’t talked about our future.  The next two years seem perfect, but after that, no matter what scenario I try to consider, we end up in different cities, and I’m not sure how we’ll ever live in the same city.”  Verbalizing it, admitting that their future seemed cloudy at best made it all seem real—too real.  

He looked at her in complete and utter disbelief.  The hopelessness in her tone only drove home the fact that she had already given up on them.  “Are you saying that we have an expiration date?”

Her bottom lip trembled at the mere suggestion that someday, everything with him would end.  “I’m saying that…that…maybe I was wrong.  Maybe we don’t need to talk about this now.”  She wiped her eyes as her eyes fell to the ground next to her.  “All I want to do is lay here with you and look at this sky and memorize every single second of it because…because this is what’s going to carry me through until you come back next month.”  She shouldn’t have said anything to him.  She should have kept it bottled in until she had some sort of plan figured out.  

This whole conversation had taken him completely by surprise.  How long had she thought about all of this?  Why hadn’t she talked to him about it before now?  Why did this feel more like an ending rather than some small bump that they would figure out together?  He slowly stood up.  He had to move around.  He couldn’t sit still any longer.  All he wanted to do at that moment was run away—from the hill, from her, from a future that apparently didn’t include her.  “You’re saying we have an expiration date.”

Riley watched as he paced in front of her.  She wanted to lie to him and tell him that it wasn’t what she meant at all, but now that it was out there, she couldn’t take it back.  “Lucas, I don’t know.”

It felt like someone had punched him in the stomach.  He stopped pacing as he tried to absorb what the woman he loved was trying to tell him.  She didn’t know if they were going to last?  After everything they had been through, after everything he had told her, after every touch, every kiss, she didn’t know if they were worth fighting for?  “Is this why you’ve been distant from me this summer?”

Her eyes fell to the ground.  She couldn’t tell him about Charlie—not now.  Not when she didn’t know what had happened at his hearing earlier in the day and not while they were still trying to figure this out.  “I’ve been in New York and you’ve been here.  I think it stands to reason that we’ve been distant.”

Lucas scoffed as he placed his hands on his hips.  He looked up to the sky for a long moment before he glanced down at her once more.  “Don’t,” his voice was deep, pained.  He noticed her flinch at the heaviness of it. “Don’t play it off.  We both know that you’ve been pulling away from me.  I knew you were hiding something.”  He shook his head.  He wasn’t prepared to accept the reality of their conversation.  “I just didn’t think it was something like this.”

“Lucas, all I’m saying is that maybe…maybe we’ve been avoiding talking about it because it’s…it’s a big decision that we have to make.  I think that maybe…now that it’s out there…that it’s something we need to start thinking about.”

He fell to his knees as he found himself a few shallow breaths away from begging for her to reconsider everything she had just told him.  He cupped her face in his hands as he looked into her bloodshot eyes.  He wiped away a few of her tears as he silently begged her to tell him that everything was going to be ok—that this was all some test, just another little bump in the road to their happily ever after.  “What is there to think about,” he asked softly as he continued to brush her tears away.  “I want to be with you.  Anywhere.  Always.”  What else mattered?  They needed to fight for this.  They needed to figure it out—together.  God, he’d literally go to hell if it meant they would be able to be with one another.  How could she not understand that they could get through anything as long as they were together?  

She closed her eyes when she saw the desperation in his eyes.  She knew that was exactly how she must have looked last night after her conversation with Jessica.  As much as she wanted to reassure him that everything was going to be ok, she wasn’t convinced that it would be.  It wasn’t an easy fix.  It wasn’t something that could be resolved in one conversation.  It was going to take time and a lot of soul searching to figure it all out.  When she opened her eyes, she noticed that his eyes had filled with his own tears.  “I want to be with you, too,” she began as she desperately tried to bite back a sob, “but Lucas, this is…I don’t know what to do.”

He leaned forward as he pressed his lips to her forehead.  “Please stay,” he softly pleaded as he rested his forehead against hers.  “We can figure this out.  Please stay.  Please.  One month.  Riley, please.”  

“I can’t,” she bit out.  “Lucas, please.  Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

He leaned back from her.  “What can I do?  Riley, please tell me what I need to do.”

She wiped her eyes before she ran her fingers through her hair.  “I think…I think that we both just need to…to take some time and think about this.” Her voice shook as she looked up at the sky.  “I think that maybe we…we take the next month and…think about it…apart from one a-another.”

“W-What?”  His heart dropped at her words.  What did that even mean ‘think about it apart from one another’?  Two thousand miles apart wasn’t enough?  She wanted more space?

“I don’t know,” she finally cried out before she forced herself to stand up.  “I thought that maybe since you’re here and I’m there that it would be a…a good time…to just…take the next month and…and maybe not talk to one another.  M-Maybe we can figure out…what we really want…and maybe figure out a way to get it.”

“A break?”  He stood up before he closed the space between them.  “You want a break from us?”

“We need to figure out what we want.”

“But I know what I want.”  He cupped her face in his hands once more.  “I want you, Riley.  Nothing else matters if I don’t have you.”  He lowered his head as he brushed his lips against hers.  The moment he felt her kiss him back, his opened his mouth as he quickly deepened their kiss.  He was more than desperate for her to know just how much he needed her.  They didn’t need a break.  They only needed each other.

It would be easy to give in.  God, how she wanted to forget it all and give into this.  They could spend the next two years avoiding this entire conversation, but she knew it would be pointless.  “Lucas,” she gasped as she pulled back from him.  She gently nudged him back from her.  They had to talk about this.  They couldn’t just ignore it.

His desperation and despair slowly turned into anger.  How could she dismiss their relationship when he had given everything to her?  He was prepared to give it all up—everything he had dreamt for himself—just to be with her and she wanted a break from him?  “Fine,” he said as he turned away from her.

She could feel the anger rolling off of him, but he had to understand.  “Lucas, I just want us to figure out what we want apart from one another.  Maybe then we can figure out—“

“Nah, I get it,” he crossed his arms over his chest as he turned back around to face her.  “But what’s the point in waiting?”

Riley frowned.  Waiting?  This wasn’t waiting.  This was a break so they could figure out what they wanted outside of their relationship.  “What do you mean?”

“I don’t understand the point in waiting for a month.”  His voice shook, but he only saw one resolution.  “You’re right.  It would be easier to do this now…while I’m here and while you’re in New York.  I’ll be gone for four more weeks, and…I think you’ve already made up your mind.  I don’t think a month is going to change anything.  You’ve clearly been thinking about this for a while now…what’s a month of not speaking to one another really going to do other than to delay the inevitable?”  He swallowed.  “We’re already having this conversation, so why not finish it now?  Why wait?”  What the hell was he even saying?  Did he just tell her that he wanted to break up with her?  He didn’t want to break up with her.  He didn’t want a break from her at all!  Less than 24 hours ago, he was begging her to stay and spend the rest of the summer with him.  God, he couldn’t imagine a few weeks without her, let alone forever.

Riley felt the air around her completely evaporate as her mouth fell open in shock.  “Are you…are you breaking up with me?”

“Haven’t you already broken up with me,” he challenged as he finally allowed his anger to control his emotions.  It was easier this way.  It was easier to hide behind the fact that she had made this decision for them.  Waiting a month would only delay the inevitable.  He knew that.  She knew that.  “I feel like you’ve been thinking about this for awhile,” he added as he ran a hand through his hair.  “What’s one month of not communicating going to do?  We’ll be right back here…having this same conversation again.  Why not rip the Band-Aid off now?”

Her throat ran dry. This wasn’t what she wanted!  “I thought…I thought I could tell you anything and that you would…that it would…that we would…”

“That we would what? You’re right, Riley.  We don’t know what’s going to happen after we graduate, so it’s better to just…save ourselves the trouble of wasting two more years on something that’s…that’s always been doomed.”  God, it hurt.  Everything hurt.  His head hurt.  His chest hurt.  His whole body ached, but none of it compared to how badly everything felt on the inside.  It was all crumbling around him.  Everything he had worked for.  Everything they had survived.  It was all in vain.  All of it was for nothing.  He loved her.  He loved her more than he would ever love anything.  That’s why the thought of being in limbo for a month—of being scared every single day that his worst nightmare would become a reality—would be too much for him.  He couldn’t live like that for another month.  He had already been living like that for most of the summer.  He loved her.  He’d do anything in the world for her—even if that meant letting her go.  He had done it once, he could do it again, although this time it was ten times harder—because he was at least ten times more in love with her than he was back then.  “I’m giving you want you want,” he paused as he stared at the patch of grass next to her feet.  “What you really want, but are too nice to actually say.  You…don’t have to worry about it anymore.”  He cleared his throat.  “You can go back to New York and just focus on getting your apartment with Maya.  You don’t have to worry about this anymore.”

Tears cascaded down the brunette’s cheeks as she stared at the ground.  “Good thing I’m leaving tomorrow then, huh?”  Was this actually happening?  Some part of her knew that this would be inevitable, but did the inevitable have to happen now?  Everything around her felt like a dream—a complete and utter nightmare.  Would she wake up soon?  God, she hoped so.  She couldn’t stand the thought of having to exist in a world where they weren’t together.  

He knew that if he looked up at her, whatever fragments of his heart that remained would completely shatter.  Always a glutton for punishment, he forced himself to slowly look up at the only woman he knew he would ever love.  Seeing the tears in her eyes and hearing the quiver in her voice made him want to take back every single word, but he knew he couldn’t.  Was this what she had been thinking about for the last month?  Was this what she had kept from him?  It sounded like she had made her decision long before she even asked him about it.  What was the point in waiting?  What was the point in torturing himself for the next month—the next two years—about it?  God, this was it.  This was what she had been hiding from him all along.

She wasn’t sure how long they stared at one another in complete silence.  All she knew was that everything around her seemed thick—so thick that she had a hard time even breathing.  She could hear her heart beat throb in her ears.  This used to be her safe place.  It was where she first told Lucas everything that happened to her that night at the ski lodge.  It was where they decided to be together.  It was where he took her almost every night she was in Austin over the last few summers.  It was their place.  It was their oasis.

But not anymore.  The fairytale had ended.  The magical spell of the hill had been broken, because while it’s nice to think that there such a thing as a safe place in the world, the truth is that there isn’t.  At any given moment, your entire world could crumble and all you’re left holding are the fragments of a world you used to know.  Her eyes fell to the grass once more.  “I knew something bad was going to happen,” she murmured.

“What?”  He heard her, but he wasn’t the one who did this.  She was the one who had decided their entire future, or lack of one, without him.  That hurt more than anything.  She had decided that there was nothing to be done.  She had chosen this.  He was just the one who had the guts to pull the trigger.  She wanted them to think about this for the next month, but as he stared at her, he knew—he knew that wouldn’t have changed anything.

“Nothing.  I…um…better go…pack.  It’s going to be morning…soon…and I don’t want to…to…umm…bye.”  She wasn’t even sure if she had made any sense as the rush of words that poured from her.  She took approximately five steps away from him before she paused.  She took a deep breath before she turned back to look at him.  She wanted to stop everything—rewind time and ignore everything she had been feeling—but she couldn’t.  She slowly turned back around before she quickly left him behind as she began to navigate the path back to the main house.  If this had happened two years ago, she knew she would’ve gotten lost in the darkness, but the path from the house to the hill was one Riley now knew by heart.  ‘This might be the last time I’m here,’ she thought as tears continued to stream down her cheeks.  

She didn’t want this.  She didn’t want to break up.  She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but it certainly wasn’t this.  This was why she didn’t want to talk about their future at all.  She wasn’t sure where it would lead, if anywhere.  Apparently, he didn’t even want to try to work through it.  Maybe he knew all along that they were simply a dead end.

Lucas slowly sat down as he replayed their conversation.  It was over.  Just like that, the last four years were gone.  He knew he had made the right decision by ending it now instead of waiting until he got back to the city.  He knew that the distance would help him adjust to this new world he was now forced to live in.  He knew he couldn’t wait another month just to go back and have the same conversation with the same resolution.  She was right to force him to face their reality instead of getting swept up in their feelings for one another.  Even if they had tabled the entire conversation, what would happen in two years?  He was prepared to follow her anywhere she wanted to go, no matter where that was, but she didn’t want him to do that.  She wanted to live her life and she want him to live his life, and for some reason, their professional dreams seemed to be on completely different paths, at least according to her.  

Was there another reason why she brought all of this up now?  

Was there someone else?

God, he couldn’t even think about that right now.  His heart had already been pulverized.  If he knew there was some other guy waiting for her in New York, he might not ever leave Texas.

[mayuthemage]

Wedding Vows

♥Alzein Chevalier: He slowly turned to Mayu, giving the woman a small smile as he searched for the words. Slowly, he reached up to grab something from his chest piece yet as he looked to Mayu, he gave a hopeless sigh and a smile. "You know.. I've asked many people.. What I should say for vows.. I even wrote down somethings but.." He trailed off. With a small shake of his head, he grasped her hands into his own. ♥Alzein Chevalier: "..Mayu Cloudwalker. As long as I have lived, I have never met someone like you. Someone so intellegent, I wonder how you can suffer to be around me. Someone so beautiful, the Goddesses pale in comparison. Someone so fierce.. It could scare away any dragon. Everyone possesses flaws but.. Not many are willing to accept nor believe such. We are all mortals, in the end. But what few you possess is shadowed by your light." ♥Alzein Chevalier: "The day.. I first met you.. It is a day I will never forget. How your smile lit a room, how you were able to draw me out from my shell, from my past, releasing me from the shackles that bound me.. Even when I tried to deny myself happiness, believing I was unworthy of such.. You proved otherwise to me.."

♥Alzein Chevalier: "And the night before the event.. I meant every word I said.. And I still do. Even after my actions.. I couldn't leave your side. And I am thankful that I didn't.. Or else I wouldn't be standing beside you today, possibly making this the most important, joyful day of my life aside from the birth of our son and the rejoining with you and the family. You have done.. So much more than you could possibly know.." ♥Alzein Chevalier: "I knew I was in love.. The very moment I saw you. And from that day forth.. I could never get you out of my mind.. You've always been there in some manner.. The light that brightened my dark world. The star which guided me.. I ask you.. To accept me with all of my flaws and perfections.." Achillies Froste narrowed his eye at Lucas. "You kno-..." And he just decided to shut up and watch the wedding. ♥Alzein Chevalier: He slowly lowered his head as he paused. "..I didn't want to come up here and say words that meant nothing.. I wanted to speak from my heart, the one you helped forge into what it is now.. You are.. My need to protect with my shield, my need to bring down anyone who tries to harm you.." Howl Ryziel smiles as he watched the proceedings, with a firm grip on a rope tied to Kiyo'ra to stop him from fishing in the water. ♥Alzein Chevalier: He stepped closer, bringing a hand up to rest upon her cheek. "..It is like the song that would play from the locket.. 'For one so small.. You seem so strong. My arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm.. This bond between us can't be broken'.." He gently caressed her cheek. Alzein Chevalier kneels before you. ♥Alzein Chevalier: "..I promise to be the man you deserve.. To be the father our son needs.. I will never stray from your side. There is no force in this realm that could tear me from you.. We have overcome.. So much together.. And I can not wait to see what else we will over come.. I feel as though I am possessed.. When I am away from you, all I can think of is when I will be back to holding you in my arms.." ♥Alzein Chevalier: "To place it simply.. If that is even posible.." He smiled, turning to his side to hold her hand up. "With this hand.. I will lift your sorrows.. Your cup will never empty.. For I will be your wine.." He took small steps forward, grasping two candles sticks and handing one off to her, bringing his lit candle to hers. "With this candle.. I will light your way in darkness.." He rose her hand upward to show her ring. From behind him, or perhaps from him, a small illuminating butterfly fluttered-- ♥Alzein Chevalier: -- towards her, moving to gently rest on her nose to give it a small 'kiss' before it drifted to her ring. With the same illumination, it melded itself with the ring, showing a bright sea green gem. ♥Alzein Chevalier: "With this ring.. I ask you.. To be mine.." Visyn Loken watched the wedding with a gentle expression, tail swaying lightly in his lap. Azura Moonpaw watched and listened, smiling and wiping a tear from her face. She quietly "awwwed" at the words spoken and the scene. Mayu Cloudwalker: She would gaze at the flame and lift the candle up. A small smile resting there but she seemed to glow. "I met you... and my world turned upside down. A girl who was learning of this world and everything in it. I did not know where I belonged and where I should go but there you stood in a silly hat and you asked me to dance. A song I have never forgotten and still remains close to my heart. And even when you were gone. When I thought you were lost, you came to me different but not." Zero Dawnrose would smile, tears would roll down his cheeks. He would be completly and utterly joyful. Mayu Cloudwalker: "You were aggitating and aggrivating and... sometimes I wanted to strangle you. But yet, you'd always come back and smile and the poem you'd speak, without a second thought. I knew I was bound to you in one way or another. That we were stuck together because who could understand me more than you?" Achillies Froste smiled and held Fellana's hand tightly as he watched the proceedings. So peaceful. Kaito Kumon remains silent, but smiles for the bride and groom. Happy to see them finally bonding to one another. Fier Rhassava awkwardly shifted in his seat, looking around at everyone before looking back up to the altar, watching intently. Leih Rhun 's ears raise, her fluffy tail wagging like a puppy's as she leaned against her adoptive father's side. "Baba, I like this." Mayu Cloudwalker: "I lost you. I loved you. I found you and here we are. We have a beautiful son and a wonderful family. You helped me find my home. We were able to build a home for both of us. Two people who felt so... on the edge and now... we are stable." She would glance down before looking up at him brightly. Alzein Chevalier smiles at you. Howl Ryziel watches with a small smile, resting his hands on his lap to simply listen and observe. Mayu Cloudwalker: "And today, I will light the way with you. I will drink from the cup to bind us together in this life and the one after. For I have always been yours. And I shall forever, be yours."