Love, Alex Hunt

I posted a bunch of entries throughout @choicesmcappreciationweek, but I wanted to group all of Daenarya's together here.

Fashion || Relationships || Day in the Life || Home Decor || AU

Art featured in collage by: ArtbyAinna (IG), @rjschoicesstuff, @oh-so-youre-a-nerd, @whispersleo, and @acesamateurart; additional art in AU moodboard by @cashweasel (how am I just noticing my Mal x Daenarya collage had no art by Lou?!! what is wrong with me!!!)

Art Gift

Have you seen this beautiful Daenarya art by @lilyoffandoms? Go look at it! It's gorgeous!!!! 💛💛💛💛

Some Asks Answered

Favorite Planet: two words. diamond rain. [x]

Do they clap when a plane lands? Daenarya definitely does. She's just happy they made it. She trusts a drake more than a flying metal death trap. [x]

Tea, coffee, juice, or water: Those choices seem to be very much lacking in choices that involve wine or ale. Daenarya will see you in the wine cellar.

Feel bad for inanimate objects? Daenarya will deny that she does, but she'll have a soft spot for old, worn, well loved inanimate objects and will want to rescue/restore them. She grew up without much, so she’s practical about things, but also more sentimental than she admits. [x]

Can she dance? Daenarya is the most natural at dancing of my MCs. She's got moves, and when she's with Mal there are literal sparks flying. [x]

I posted a bunch of entries throughout @choicesmcappreciationweek, but I wanted to group all of Alex's together here.

Fashion || Relationships || Day in the Life || Home Decor || AU

Art featured in collage by: ArtbyAinna (IG), irdeinfierno (IG), and @oh-so-youre-a-nerd, and one edit with Addi I made in Photoshop

Some Asks Answered during the event

Favorite Planet: Alex's favorite planet is absolutely Pluto! Size doesn't matter. Pluto was once a planet, it will always be a planet to her. She refuses to accept any criticism to the contrary. [x]

Tea, coffee, juice, or water?: Alex always has a coffee/espresso drink (typically iced) and sometimes (read always) even has a back up coffee, just in case.[x]

Can she dance? Alex is somewhat classically trained. She took dance classes as a child, but also in collage, and then more training for different roles. Hunt is also an extremely talented dancer so he practices with her and she is definitely capable. Maybe she'd even win Dancing with the Stars. [x]

I posted a bunch of entries throughout @choicesmcappreciationweek, but I wanted to group all of Olivia’s together here.

Fashion || Relationships || Day in the Life || Home Decor || AU

Art featured in the relationship collage: ArtbyAinna (IG), @whispersleo, & Irdeinfierno (IG)

Some Asks Answered

Favorite Planet: Olivia loves her plants, the warm the of the sun, and the gentle rise and fall of the tide. Earth is where all her favorite people are. Earth is her favorite and it always will be. [x]

Can she dance? I'll let you decide [x]

Feel bad for inanimate objects? Yes, Olivia apologies for bumping into walls, or kicking rocks. She doesn't like throwing things out if they're still useful in another capacity. She'll make sure everything that can be donated is and nothing is thrown out. She definitely feels bad for stuffed animals and dolls when they're hurt or "injured". It's why her practice has one Saturday a month where kids can bring in their worn stuffies to get some TLC from volunteers who will fix them up. [x]

A piece of clothing they would rather die than wear: Since Olivia is a pediatrician and loves making the children smile and laugh, she'll wear some pretty crazy, weird, and outrageous things. I'm not sure there is very much she wouldn't wear if she thought it would cheer someone up. But I think she'd rather die than wear a sexy nurse or doctor's costumes. She has no problem looking ridiculous for her patients (or sexy for Bryce) but turning medicine into a cheap costume is something she can't stomach. (You can be sexy without demeaning a career.) [x]

Do they clap when a plane lands? When she was a child, she absolutely did, but definitely outgrew it as a teenager. As a young adult she definitely is interested in it "just for fun", but it's not until she has her own children that she really gets back to it. She enjoys the joy it brings them and honestly, it's still just fun. Who doesn't enjoy having something to celebrate, even if something others take for granted. [x]

Things they're good at but hate doing: Olivia is great at cleaning, but she hates cleaning the bathroom: sink, shower, and toilet. She's good at it and when she does it, it looks immaculate, but once she moves in with Bryce, that becomes a Bryce job. [x]

On a more serious note, Olivia's very good at explaining frightening medical information in a calm, compassionate way, especially to parents. But when the news is not hopeful and the diagnosis is terminal she really really hates doing it. (Though, if someone had to do it, it's probably best for it to be her because she's so empathetic)

Things they're bad at but love doing: Based on my Holland dancing gifs (see above), I'd definitely have to say dancing lol

Also Twister, she's flexible, but also short compared to Bryce and her friends. She definitely rocks it with the children though! [x]

For one terrible moment, he thought he was too late. A flash of fear overcame him. His body tensed. His chest tightened. His pulse quickened. 

He reacted. 

This is what she'd done to him. In a few short weeks, she'd changed him. He cared. He wished he didn't, but there was no denying it now. 

Fear. It was nothing more than an awareness of danger. It was a choice to give in to it, to flee, or to fight it. He always chose the latter. He would never let it win. He and fear were old friends. From his earliest days, fear was there in one form or another. Fear of being alone when his mom died. Fear of starving before his next meal. Fear of retribution for failing the Guild. Fear of being caught. Fear of a job going wrong. 

Fear was a way of life. He never let it get to him. He couldn't. It was key to his success. But this time, he did. Her fear gave rise to something he hadn't let himself experience since his mother...

A flash of sunlight glistened off the silver-tipped spear as the grobtar reached for its weapon. She stood motionless, color draining from her face as her eyes focused on the small pool of blood before her from the creature she had wounded. He rushed toward her with reckless abandon across the deck of the Sun Maiden, adding to the growing list of mistakes he'd let himself make lately. Dodging an oncoming assault, he prayed to the gods he didn't believe in that he'd make it. The thought of anything happening to her...

As the injured grobtar charged her with renewed strength, she fell to the ground. The air rushed out of his lungs; he wouldn't make it. His fingers on his dagger, setting it sail. Before they could take purchase in the creature's flesh, she hoisted her blade from below, killing it with one fluid motion.

He met her step as the creature collapsed beside her, his eyes glistening with a pain he had long ago pushed down. He reached out, cradling her face, worn with sprays of the sea and drops of blood. He leaned in, pressing a kiss on her forehead, the moment lingering despite the chaos around them. 

He stumbled on his words, finding none to convey the depth of his conflicting emotions. The scene shifted as they continued the fight for their lives, his thoughts still preoccupied. He had risked his life.

Something had changed, and he couldn't hide anymore. This fear was new, something he'd been running from for as long as he could remember.

....it was the fear of losing someone who mattered. 

And that realization? 

He hated more than fear itself. 

He had tried to make sense of things, push thoughts of her away, make excuses as to why he was staying, but none of them ever rang true. 

This was different. This was a step in a direction he never planned to take. Somewhere along the way, she had become more than another job, another mark, another person passing through his life.

She mattered.

Not for the Shadow Court. Not for the shard. Not for the coin.

To him.

And that was the one thing he could not afford.

A/N: I'm really enjoying seeing things from Mal's POV, it's a lot of fun because he's got a lot going on in his head. I always HC that Mal and Daenarya always argue over who fell first and treat it as a game. Honestly, I would have said it could have gone either way, but exploring Mal's POV, I feel like it's definitely him, even if he is fighting it every second of the way.

Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya with Rayden (OC), Lydo (OC) Book: Blades of Light & Shadow (Book 1 AU) Word Count: < 700 Rating/Warnings: General, no warnings

Synopsis: The map that sent them on their latest adventure has brought them home. This is part two of "The Hidden Path" mini series.

Background: This is the final chapter in The Hidden Path series. It also comes after previous attempts at Mal proposing: A Proposal (of sorts) and To Have and To Lose.

Her pulse quickened as she lifted the key, questions racing through her mind. She carefully traced the dark metal of the lock, the corner of her lip tugging upward at the familiar design.

For a moment, all she could think about was her family—her boys... and Mal.

Her hand shook as she slid the key in place, twisting it until she heard a faint click. She chewed her lower lip, not sure what waited on the other side. The wooden gate eased forward with a comforting soft squeak.

She stepped forward, her breath catching.

Red rose petals were scattered delicately at her feet. Candlelight flickered on either side of her, inviting her to follow their light. She took a slow step forward, the petals shifting softly beneath her feet.

The yard was quiet except for the giggles and excited squeals from the boys trailing just behind her.

"Mal." His name was a wordless whisper on her lips as she approached a floral arch illuminated with lanterns at the center of the space.

He held his hand out, guiding her forward. His other hand rested on her swollen stomach. "I love you both." His voice was quiet, just for her. "I'm sorry things fell apart today."

Rayden and Lydo moved behind him, checking their mark to make sure everything was perfect.

Mal leaned forward, brushing a lingering kiss on her forehead before lowering to one knee in front of her.

"Daenarya—" his voice cracked as he said her name. He opened his mouth, but his words failed. He shook his head. "I practiced this so many times, but with you, I lose what I thought I knew."

"There hasn't been a moment since I met you that I've wanted to be anywhere other than by your side," he continued. "When you paused this morning outside of the city, talking about home, I had to fight against myself to propose on the spot. That moment may have been beautiful, but it wasn't our home. When the rain fell, and you were once again in my arms, I was reminded how far we'd come since that first dance and how I never want that dance to end. I thought about asking you then, but it wasn't where I wanted to grow old together. But then—" his gaze fell, his head shaking. "—Then I hurt you... I never meant to make you feel like I didn't trust you. It took everything in me not to tell you. To know I hurt you today—Daenarya." Tears filled his eyes, slipping down his face. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she mouthed, her eyes glistening. She offered a gentle nod. "It's okay."

"If I had, I could have spared you so much pain. I'm sorry... but it's not just about us anymore. It's about our children and the home we share. It's not just about where we are now, but where we've been and where we're going. There is no greater treasure in this world or the next that compares with you.

Daenarya, will you marry me?"

Her breath hitched at the question hanging between them, her hands clasping over her mouth. A soft laugh broke through her tears. "Mal..." Her gaze flickered between him and the boys bouncing excitedly behind him. Her heart swelled. She nodded before she could answer. "Yes!" Her voice trembled, but her smile never faltered. "Of course, yes! I'll marry you!"

Mal slipped the golden ring onto her finger, his hands steady and sure.

He rose swiftly, pulling her into a kiss, his arms wrapping around her as he held her close, never wanting to let her go.

The boys' cheer broke their embrace. Their small hands tugged at them, waiting for their time to celebrate. The newly engaged couple fell to their knees, gathering their boys into their arms. Their shared laughter broke through the last of the tears as they held their family close.

This was just the beginning of their greatest adventure. 

The flash of the cameras danced around her, each lens begging for her attention. Camera shutters echoed in her ear. This was the moment she'd dreamed of—imagined a thousand and one times. She tilted her chin and turned her shoulder.

Everything was perfect.

It should have been enough.

It wasn't.

Her practiced smile didn't quite reach her eyes. For a moment, she almost turned, as if someone had called—though no one had. They'd never noticed. The studio had been sure she was media-ready for today. Nothing would challenge her their big moment.

Not even him.

i. chance

Her heart fluttered as her fingers delicately traced the golden Art Deco door handle. She was finally here. Inhaling deeply, she lifted her head, straightening her shoulders, before opening the studio door.

The space was dark except for a few soft stage lights, the set not yet reset for the day. She lingered near the door, her gaze tracing over the space. If these walls could talk. She inched closer, a typewritten script held in her arms.

He walked swiftly across the stage. He paused only long enough to retrieve his blazer from the director's chair, then continued on.

The sound of footsteps pulled her attention. She caught only the silhouette of a man retreating. The echo of his step faded, leaving the space emptier than it had been before.

ii. thread

Muffled voices seeped through the wood-paneled walls as he navigated the narrow hallway. He passed Studio A on the way to the next. He’d always thought interviews were little more than promotion—advertisements for the latest picture, disguised as a conversation.

The on-air light was dim. He reached for the silver door handle. A soft laugh sounded from the other side, light and honest. He opened it slowly. A brunette woman met him. He stepped aside, holding it open for her.

"Thank you."

She stepped past him.

He let the door close behind her.

He almost looked back.

iii. glance

Her fingers curled around the white porcelain cup. The familiar notes of the freshly brewed coffee brought a smile to her lips. She listened to the quiet hum of the cafe. Her days had been filled with rehearsals and filming. Unscripted moments had become rare.

Her gaze lifted.

He sat at a table opposite hers. His pen scratched across the surface of the pages in front of him.

He looked up.

For a moment, their eyes met. She smiled over the rim of her cup, taking another sip before looking away. Her gaze turned out the window, watching those walking by. His reflection lingered faintly in the glass as he returned to his work.

iv. interruption

He moved with purpose through the lot. A call for quiet from a nearby set drew his attention. He turned toward the set. A familiar face caught his eye. She moved gracefully across the scene. Her voice was light, touched with optimism.

"Cut."

Her gaze met his as she turned away from the production.

Recognition flashed in her eyes. A slow smile spread on her lips.

He took a step forward.

"Alexandra."

A production assistant guided her back to her mark.

He lingered a moment longer before continuing on his way.

Alexandra.

v. choice

The scent of stale tobacco mixed with the sharp coffee aroma as she entered the cafe. She glanced around the space, making her way to an empty table. She took a seat and opened a small black appointment book, reading through the notes for the day.

She turned her attention out the window. A familiar reflection caught her eye, drawing her gaze to the table across from her.

He sat still, a book perched in his hands. His face gave little away, his expression unreadable.

She almost turned back to the busy street.

But she didn't.

Not today.

"Hello," she greeted.

His gaze lifted from the page, over the top of the book.

His eyes met hers.

vi. pull

"Alexandra, is it?" He closed the book and set it on the table.

"Should I be impressed Thomas Hunt knows my name?"

His eyes narrowed, the corner of his lip lifting slightly. "Many would be."

"You'll find I'm not," she challenged.

He studied her for a moment. She was more direct than he anticipated, her smile still unguarded. That was a rarity. "Indeed."

"My apologies if that disappoints."

The book remained closed beneath his hand. His attention no longer on it, his gaze fixed on her. "I'm not certain you could disappoint."

vii. bond

It had become effortless, spending time like this. The placid lake stretched out before them. Strands of golden sun kissed the water, scattering like diamonds across the surface.

Her fingers brushed over the soft fabric of the picnic blanket. The wind shifted, lifting a strand of her hair. He reached up, brushing it back.

"I like it here," she decided.

"It's quiet," he agreed.

"It's easier out here." Her gaze fell to the sandy shore.

His hand settled over hers.

"It's easier with you," she added.

"I've found the same."

“Careful, Thomas... You almost sound agreeable.”

The smile that tugged at his lips reached his eyes. His gaze drifted back over the lake.

viii. dream

The ballroom glowed beneath the ornate chandeliers. Voices around them blurred into the music.

She rested her head on his shoulder, his hand warm against her lower back. Her silk dress shifted with each gentle movement as they swayed slowly together. Nothing beyond them seemed to exist. When she lifted her head, her eyes met his. The smile that greeted her was unlike any the public ever saw. It was entirely hers.

"Alex." His voice was tender.

"I know."

As the song quieted, neither of them moved. He drew her closer, the distance between them fading. His lips found hers in a soft, almost fragile kiss.

The final notes faded into applause, but she didn't move.

Neither of them did.

ix. interference

"Miss Spencer." The steady voice stopped her before she could go further. "A word, if you please."

She drew in a deep breath, her body reluctant to follow. "Of course."

"Have a seat." The studio executive gestured toward an emerald green leather chair.

"You're still new to all of this, Miss Spencer, so I'll be quite clear. There are expectations that come with representing the studio. The image you present is not solely yours—it belongs to us. Personal associations are not without there consequences. If and when changes are required, they will be made in accordance with the studio's interests. I trust you understand."

"But—" Her mouth opened, though the expression that met her across the desk gave her pause. Her hands tightened. "I understand."

"I trust you'll attend the premiere of your upcoming picture in a manner consistent with these expectations."

She rose to her feet, smoothing the fabric of her dress before turning away.

x. destiny

Her smile never wavered. Each step down the red carpet had been choreographed for her. Who to talk with, who to pose for, when to hesitate, when to move on. It was another scene for her to play, far from the empowerment she thought it would bring. She was their Alexandra. She hadn't thought she'd miss being Alex.

With careful precision, she executed every look they wanted. The bright lights of the cameras started to dim as she neared the theater.

"Thank you!" She waved, posing once more for a final display.

The doors opened, welcoming her into the screening of her picture. She ascended the steps of the theater, slipping her gloves off. She'd been offered a private box. The first thing that had gone right. At least there, she would be free from the performance.

She paused outside of it. Her fingers caressed the green velvet curtains separating her space from the hall. Quietly, she slipped in, disappearing from the world outside.

She stilled, her eyes not trusting what they saw.

It was him.

Of course, it was him.

"How?"

"Does it matter?"

He stood to meet her, guiding her down into the seat beside him. He drew her in, and this time, he kissed her without hesitation. Nothing could pull them apart.

A/N: Initially I was going to do a kismet mini series on this but readership is so low in the fandom that I didn't think anyone would follow that long. So I compromised and tried to write 100 word drabbles for each "chapter" and make a mosiac one-shot instead.

If you read this, I hope you enjoyed it! It was a lot of fun to write. It's very different than my normal fluffy writing style. It's much more controlled and restrained. It was very hard especially when the finally got together not to revert back lol

It wasn't possible...

He couldn't possibly have... feelings.

She wasn't all that different, was she?

He kicked a small stone, watching as it skipped across the path in front of him.

She was a kit. Still wet behind the ears. She'd never been on an adventure before. She shouldn't even be here. Yet—she still saved him from the shadow court.

He met the pebble he'd kicked, his boot nudging it forward another several paces.

Luck.

That's what it had to be, luck.

Any real threat and she'd need his saving. He just needed her to need him, then she'd be so grateful that she'd have to show her gratitude. Then, he'd get her out of his system.

He reached to kick the stone once more, but he stumbled off the path instead.

"Everything okay?" Her voice was soft as she stopped beside him.

He traced her lips before stopping himself. "Why wouldn't it be?"

She shrugged. "Never heard you quiet this long before."

“Most people are a little more appreciative after witnessing this level of heroism.”

"Are they?" She practically choked on her laugh. "You mean that little display with the daggers?"

"It takes years of precision and practice to execute such a move." He narrowed the gap between them, puffing his chest and standing a little taller. "You think you could do better?"

"Already did. Or, did you forget I saved you earlier?" She beamed proudly. "Guess, that makes me a natural."

"Kit—" Forcing a smirk on his face, he tossed his hair back. "I let you think that. I thought you could use a little confidence boost, given this was your first adventure and all."

She moved within an inch of his face. "Mal Volari... Mr. Magnificent... you are a terrible liar."

Her words were warm against his lips. "I promise that is not something I've ever been accused of. You don't survive this life long without knowing how to bluff."

"I guess that makes me special." She brushed a kiss on his cheek. Her voice dropped as she whispered, "I can read you."

"That's not—you're not—" Words failed him as they hadn't in a long time.

A smirk pulled on her lips. "Have fun sulking."

"I don't sulk."

"Sure you don't."

"You think you're winning here? It's not a game."

"Something tells me that with you, everything's a game. I'm sure you're not used to losing, but neither am I." She turned her back to him, continuing down the path.

The girl had guts. He'd give her that.

She challenged him. She wasn't easily swayed by his charms. She wasn't immune. He could see that much. It wouldn't be easy. He'd have to adjust his approach, but he'd win this. One way or another.

Most of my fics are from Daenarya's point of view, so I thought it might be fun to try Mal's.

The flash of the cameras danced around her, each lens begging for her attention. Camera shutters echoed in her ear. This was the moment she'd dreamed of—imagined a thousand and one times. She tilted her chin and turned her shoulder.

Everything was perfect.

It should have been enough.

It wasn't.

Her practiced smile didn't quite reach her eyes. For a moment, she almost turned, as if someone had called—though no one had. They'd never noticed. The studio had been sure she was media-ready for today. Nothing would challenge her their big moment.

Not even him.

i. chance

Her heart fluttered as her fingers delicately traced the golden Art Deco door handle. She was finally here. Inhaling deeply, she lifted her head, straightening her shoulders, before opening the studio door.

The space was dark except for a few soft stage lights, the set not yet reset for the day. She lingered near the door, her gaze tracing over the space. If these walls could talk. She inched closer, a typewritten script held in her arms.

He walked swiftly across the stage. He paused only long enough to retrieve his blazer from the director's chair, then continued on.

The sound of footsteps pulled her attention. She caught only the silhouette of a man retreating. The echo of his step faded, leaving the space emptier than it had been before.

ii. thread

Muffled voices seeped through the wood-paneled walls as he navigated the narrow hallway. He passed Studio A on the way to the next. He’d always thought interviews were little more than promotion—advertisements for the latest picture, disguised as a conversation.

The on-air light was dim. He reached for the silver door handle. A soft laugh sounded from the other side, light and honest. He opened it slowly. A brunette woman met him. He stepped aside, holding it open for her.

"Thank you."

She stepped past him.

He let the door close behind her.

He almost looked back.

iii. glance

Her fingers curled around the white porcelain cup. The familiar notes of the freshly brewed coffee brought a smile to her lips. She listened to the quiet hum of the cafe. Her days had been filled with rehearsals and filming. Unscripted moments had become rare.

Her gaze lifted.

He sat at a table opposite hers. His pen scratched across the surface of the pages in front of him.

He looked up.

For a moment, their eyes met. She smiled over the rim of her cup, taking another sip before looking away. Her gaze turned out the window, watching those walking by. His reflection lingered faintly in the glass as he returned to his work.

iv. interruption

He moved with purpose through the lot. A call for quiet from a nearby set drew his attention. He turned toward the set. A familiar face caught his eye. She moved gracefully across the scene. Her voice was light, touched with optimism.

"Cut."

Her gaze met his as she turned away from the production.

Recognition flashed in her eyes. A slow smile spread on her lips.

He took a step forward.

"Alexandra."

A production assistant guided her back to her mark.

He lingered a moment longer before continuing on his way.

Alexandra.

v. choice

The scent of stale tobacco mixed with the sharp coffee aroma as she entered the cafe. She glanced around the space, making her way to an empty table. She took a seat and opened a small black appointment book, reading through the notes for the day.

She turned her attention out the window. A familiar reflection caught her eye, drawing her gaze to the table across from her.

He sat still, a book perched in his hands. His face gave little away, his expression unreadable.

She almost turned back to the busy street.

But she didn't.

Not today.

"Hello," she greeted.

His gaze lifted from the page, over the top of the book.

His eyes met hers.

vi. pull

"Alexandra, is it?" He closed the book and set it on the table.

"Should I be impressed Thomas Hunt knows my name?"

His eyes narrowed, the corner of his lip lifting slightly. "Many would be."

"You'll find I'm not," she challenged.

He studied her for a moment. She was more direct than he anticipated, her smile still unguarded. That was a rarity. "Indeed."

"My apologies if that disappoints."

The book remained closed beneath his hand. His attention no longer on it, his gaze fixed on her. "I'm not certain you could disappoint."

vii. bond

It had become effortless, spending time like this. The placid lake stretched out before them. Strands of golden sun kissed the water, scattering like diamonds across the surface.

Her fingers brushed over the soft fabric of the picnic blanket. The wind shifted, lifting a strand of her hair. He reached up, brushing it back.

"I like it here," she decided.

"It's quiet," he agreed.

"It's easier out here." Her gaze fell to the sandy shore.

His hand settled over hers.

"It's easier with you," she added.

"I've found the same."

“Careful, Thomas... You almost sound agreeable.”

The smile that tugged at his lips reached his eyes. His gaze drifted back over the lake.

viii. dream

The ballroom glowed beneath the ornate chandeliers. Voices around them blurred into the music.

She rested her head on his shoulder, his hand warm against her lower back. Her silk dress shifted with each gentle movement as they swayed slowly together. Nothing beyond them seemed to exist. When she lifted her head, her eyes met his. The smile that greeted her was unlike any the public ever saw. It was entirely hers.

"Alex." His voice was tender.

"I know."

As the song quieted, neither of them moved. He drew her closer, the distance between them fading. His lips found hers in a soft, almost fragile kiss.

The final notes faded into applause, but she didn't move.

Neither of them did.

ix. interference

"Miss Spencer." The steady voice stopped her before she could go further. "A word, if you please."

She drew in a deep breath, her body reluctant to follow. "Of course."

"Have a seat." The studio executive gestured toward an emerald green leather chair.

"You're still new to all of this, Miss Spencer, so I'll be quite clear. There are expectations that come with representing the studio. The image you present is not solely yours—it belongs to us. Personal associations are not without there consequences. If and when changes are required, they will be made in accordance with the studio's interests. I trust you understand."

"But—" Her mouth opened, though the expression that met her across the desk gave her pause. Her hands tightened. "I understand."

"I trust you'll attend the premiere of your upcoming picture in a manner consistent with these expectations."

She rose to her feet, smoothing the fabric of her dress before turning away.

x. destiny

Her smile never wavered. Each step down the red carpet had been choreographed for her. Who to talk with, who to pose for, when to hesitate, when to move on. It was another scene for her to play, far from the empowerment she thought it would bring. She was their Alexandra. She hadn't thought she'd miss being Alex.

With careful precision, she executed every look they wanted. The bright lights of the cameras started to dim as she neared the theater.

"Thank you!" She waved, posing once more for a final display.

The doors opened, welcoming her into the screening of her picture. She ascended the steps of the theater, slipping her gloves off. She'd been offered a private box. The first thing that had gone right. At least there, she would be free from the performance.

She paused outside of it. Her fingers caressed the green velvet curtains separating her space from the hall. Quietly, she slipped in, disappearing from the world outside.

She stilled, her eyes not trusting what they saw.

It was him.

Of course, it was him.

"How?"

"Does it matter?"

He stood to meet her, guiding her down into the seat beside him. He drew her in, and this time, he kissed her without hesitation. Nothing could pull them apart.

A/N: Initially I was going to do a kismet mini series on this but readership is so low in the fandom that I didn't think anyone would follow that long. So I compromised and tried to write 100 word drabbles for each "chapter" and make a mosiac one-shot instead.

If you read this, I hope you enjoyed it! It was a lot of fun to write. It's very different than my normal fluffy writing style. It's much more controlled and restrained. It was very hard especially when the finally got together not to revert back lol

The flash of the cameras danced around her, each lens begging for her attention. Camera shutters echoed in her ear. This was the moment she'd dreamed of—imagined a thousand and one times. She tilted her chin and turned her shoulder.

Everything was perfect.

It should have been enough.

It wasn't.

Her practiced smile didn't quite reach her eyes. For a moment, she almost turned, as if someone had called—though no one had. They'd never noticed. The studio had been sure she was media-ready for today. Nothing would challenge her their big moment.

Not even him.

i. chance

Her heart fluttered as her fingers delicately traced the golden Art Deco door handle. She was finally here. Inhaling deeply, she lifted her head, straightening her shoulders, before opening the studio door.

The space was dark except for a few soft stage lights, the set not yet reset for the day. She lingered near the door, her gaze tracing over the space. If these walls could talk. She inched closer, a typewritten script held in her arms.

He walked swiftly across the stage. He paused only long enough to retrieve his blazer from the director's chair, then continued on.

The sound of footsteps pulled her attention. She caught only the silhouette of a man retreating. The echo of his step faded, leaving the space emptier than it had been before.

ii. thread

Muffled voices seeped through the wood-paneled walls as he navigated the narrow hallway. He passed Studio A on the way to the next. He’d always thought interviews were little more than promotion—advertisements for the latest picture, disguised as a conversation.

The on-air light was dim. He reached for the silver door handle. A soft laugh sounded from the other side, light and honest. He opened it slowly. A brunette woman met him. He stepped aside, holding it open for her.

"Thank you."

She stepped past him.

He let the door close behind her.

He almost looked back.

iii. glance

Her fingers curled around the white porcelain cup. The familiar notes of the freshly brewed coffee brought a smile to her lips. She listened to the quiet hum of the cafe. Her days had been filled with rehearsals and filming. Unscripted moments had become rare.

Her gaze lifted.

He sat at a table opposite hers. His pen scratched across the surface of the pages in front of him.

He looked up.

For a moment, their eyes met. She smiled over the rim of her cup, taking another sip before looking away. Her gaze turned out the window, watching those walking by. His reflection lingered faintly in the glass as he returned to his work.

iv. interruption

He moved with purpose through the lot. A call for quiet from a nearby set drew his attention. He turned toward the set. A familiar face caught his eye. She moved gracefully across the scene. Her voice was light, touched with optimism.

"Cut."

Her gaze met his as she turned away from the production.

Recognition flashed in her eyes. A slow smile spread on her lips.

He took a step forward.

"Alexandra."

A production assistant guided her back to her mark.

He lingered a moment longer before continuing on his way.

Alexandra.

v. choice

The scent of stale tobacco mixed with the sharp coffee aroma as she entered the cafe. She glanced around the space, making her way to an empty table. She took a seat and opened a small black appointment book, reading through the notes for the day.

She turned her attention out the window. A familiar reflection caught her eye, drawing her gaze to the table across from her.

He sat still, a book perched in his hands. His face gave little away, his expression unreadable.

She almost turned back to the busy street.

But she didn't.

Not today.

"Hello," she greeted.

His gaze lifted from the page, over the top of the book.

His eyes met hers.

vi. pull

"Alexandra, is it?" He closed the book and set it on the table.

"Should I be impressed Thomas Hunt knows my name?"

His eyes narrowed, the corner of his lip lifting slightly. "Many would be."

"You'll find I'm not," she challenged.

He studied her for a moment. She was more direct than he anticipated, her smile still unguarded. That was rare enough. "Indeed."

"My apologies if that disappoints."

The book remained closed beneath his hand. His attention no longer on it, his gaze fixed on her. "I'm not certain you could disappoint."

vii. bond

It had become effortless, spending time like this. The placid lake stretched out before them. Strands of golden sun kissed the water, scattering like diamonds across the surface.

Her fingers brushed over the soft fabric of the picnic blanket. The wind shifted, lifting a strand of her hair. He reached up, brushing it back.

"I like it here," she decided.

"It's quiet," he agreed.

"It's easier out here." Her gaze fell to the sandy shore.

His hand settled over hers.

"It's easier with you," she added.

"I've found the same."

“Careful, Thomas... You almost sound agreeable.”

The smile that tugged at his lips reached his eyes. His gaze drifted back over the lake.

viii. dream

The ballroom glowed beneath the ornate chandeliers. Voices around them blurred into the music.

She rested her head on his shoulder, his hand warm against her lower back. Her silk dress shifted with each gentle movement as they swayed slowly together. Nothing beyond them seemed to exist. When she lifted her head, her eyes met his. The smile that greeted her was unlike any the public ever saw. It was entirely hers.

"Alex." His voice was tender.

"I know."

As the song quieted, neither of them moved. He drew her closer, the distance between them fading. His lips found hers in a soft, almost fragile kiss.

The final notes faded into applause, but she didn't move.

Neither of them did.

ix. interference

"Miss Spencer." The steady voice stopped her before she could go further. "A word, if you please."

She drew in a deep breath, her body reluctant to follow. "Of course."

"Have a seat." The studio executive gestured toward an emerald green leather chair.

"You're still new to all of this, Miss Spencer, so I'll be quite clear. There are expectations that come with representing the studio. The image you present is not solely yours—it belongs to us. Personal associations are not without consequence. If and when changes are required, they will be made in accordance with the studio's interests. I trust you understand."

"But—" Her mouth opened, though the expression that met her across the desk gave her pause. Her hands tightened. "I understand."

"I trust you'll attend the premiere of your upcoming picture in a manner consistent with these expectations."

She rose to her feet, smoothing the fabric of her dress before turning away.

x. destiny

Her smile never wavered. Each step down the red carpet had been choreographed for her. Who to talk with, who to pose for, when to hesitate, when to move on. It was another scene for her to play, far from the empowerment she thought it would bring. She was their Alexandra. She hadn't thought she'd miss being Alex.

With careful precision, she executed every look they wanted. The bright lights of the cameras started to dim as she neared the theater.

"Thank you!" She waved, posing once more for a final display.

The doors opened, welcoming her into the screening of her picture. She ascended the steps of the theater, slipping her gloves off. She'd been offered a private box. The first thing that had gone right. At least there, she would be free from the performance.

She paused outside of it. Her fingers caressed the green velvet curtains separating her space from the hall. Quietly, she slipped in, disappearing from the world outside.

She stilled, her eyes not trusting what they saw.

It was him.

Of course, it was him.

"How?"

"Does it matter?"

He stood to meet her, guiding her down into the seat beside him. He drew her in, and this time, he kissed her without hesitation. Nothing could pull them apart.

A/N: Initially I was going to do a kismet mini series on this but readership is so low in the fandom that I didn't think anyone would follow that long. So I compromised and tried to write 100 word drabbles for each "chapter" and make a mosiac one-shot instead.

If you read this, I hope you enjoyed it! It was a lot of fun to write. It's very different than my normal fluffy writing style. It's much more controlled and restrained. It was very hard especially when the finally got together not to revert back lol