#let me know if you'd like something different :)

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART SEVEN ♡

paige x azzi

word count: 6.8k

A/N: Here's a cute little fun fluffy chapter for the holiday's, I couldn't do any angsty with Christmas spirit around 😭. Please let me know what you think and if you have any ideas of where you'd like to see things go. I'm not sure how much longer it'll be because I don't know if I have anymore routes to explore for them in this one.

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New Years Eve 

It was currently New Year’s Eve, and Azzi sat at the vanity in Caroline’s room applying her makeup. The soft glow of the mirror lights highlighted her steady hand as she blended the edges of her liner with ease. Behind her, Caroline shuffled around, pulling clothes from her closet as she got dressed.

The tension in the room was a little thick, but it definitely wasn’t from Azzi’s end and she barely acknowledged it. Caroline had brought this up before, and Azzi wasn’t particularly interested in having the same conversation again.

"You know," Caroline started, her tone slightly sharp, "this whole thing with you and Paige is starting to get... noticeable."

Azzi hummed noncommittally, her focus fixed on the mirror as she added a final touch of mascara. "Noticed that, did you?" she said lightly, not bothering to turn around.

Caroline huffed, pulling a shirt over her head. "I’m serious, Azzi. Since your date, you two have been practically inseparable, and yet—" She waved her hand vaguely. "Still no label. So what…you guys are just friends with benefits now?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head without pausing her work. "No, Car," she said easily, "we’re not."

"Then what are you?" Caroline pressed, her tone sharper than before.

Azzi’s hand stilled briefly as she traced the edge of her eyeliner, then resumed as she answered smoothly, "We’re us."

Caroline groaned, turning to lean against the edge of the vanity. "That’s not a title, Azzi. It’s not enough."

Azzi paused, her hand hovering mid-air as she paused applying her makeup. She turned slightly to glance at Caroline, her lips a faint smirk. "And that bothers you…why exactly?" she asked, her tone light but with an unmistakable edge.

Caroline rolled her eyes, undeterred. "I just don’t want you settling for something undefined because it feels good right now," she said, her tone more frustrated than before. "I know Paige. She’s not committing because she can’t. That’s just how she is."

Azzi’s jaw tightened, the irritation finally breaking through her calm demeanor at Caroline mentioning Paige. "Well, good thing I know Paige better than you do, Caroline," she shot back, her voice low but firm.

Caroline straightened, a spark of frustration flaring in her expression. "Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s just dragging you along while she figures herself out."

Azzi set her brush down with a little more force than necessary, her patience clearly wearing thin. "She’s not dragging me along," she said matter of factly. "You’ve brought this up like, what? Three times now? I keep telling you we’re fine and that I’m more than fine."

Caroline raised an eyebrow. "Are you? Because I remember the first time you argued, she immediately started sleeping around to 'cope.' That didn’t exactly scream 'fine Azzi.'"

Azzi turned to face Caroline fully, her voice cooler now. "You know that was different. We were in a different situation then and you trying to throw it in my face is fucked up."

"How?" Caroline challenged, stepping closer. "What makes it different now?"

Azzi let out a short, exasperated breath, her fingers gripping the edge of the vanity. "Because we hadn’t discussed anything. We didn’t know where the other one stood and we do now. 

Caroline’s expression softened for a moment.  Azzi," she said, stepping closer, "you still deserve better than just sleeping around."

Azzi’s smile faltered, her grip tightening slightly on the makeup brush in her hand, exhaling as she turned fully to face Caroline. "Excuse me?" she asked, her voice sharp now. "Caroline, do you even have any idea what Paige does for me? I’ll answer that for you actually. No, you don’t. So please stop."

Caroline opened her mouth to reply, but Azzi didn’t give her the chance. "She’s so much better than everyone thinks and it kind of sucks that you’re our teammate and don’t see it. She checks in on me constantly, even when she’s buried with her own pressure and stress. She’s Paige fucking Bueckers but she treats me like I’m the biggest star on earth. She looks at me like I put the stars in the sky. She makes sure I eat, that I take care of myself, that I don’t push myself too hard because she knows how I get. She surprises me with stupid little things she knows will make me smile even if it makes no sense to her. She knows exactly how to calm me down when I’m spiraling, she got me this damn necklace when we weren’t even speaking Caroline." Azzi’s voice softened slightly, but her conviction remained. “She’s so thoughtful and present. She treats me like I matter to her more than anything."

Azzi continues, shaking her head at the acquisition of deserving ‘better.’ "A title doesn’t affect how she treats me, Car. I promise you, I wouldn’t be with someone who only wanted me for sex if that’s what you're thinking."

Caroline hesitated, but Azzi wasn’t finished. She leaned back against the vanity, crossing her arms with a smile as she settled down. "It just so happens that it’s amazing," she said, her voice dropping into a teasing tone hoping this will end Caroline’s inquiry, "so we do it…often."

Caroline groaned, rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath as she turned away to grab her shoes. "That’s not the point," she grumbled.

Azzi let out a short laugh, returning her attention to the mirror. "You’re right," she said lightly, "it’s not. Because the point is, we’re fine. More than fine."

"But you’re still not official," Caroline pressed, her voice edging toward frustration again.

Azzi shrugged, her tone cool. "A title really doesn’t change anything so please just drop it. It’ll happen naturally.” 

Caroline sighed, her expression shifting to one of genuine concern. "I just don’t want you to get hurt, Azzi," she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed now.

Azzi finished applying her lip gloss, capping the tube before standing and turning to face Caroline. "And I thank you for that, Car," she said, her voice calm but firm. "But really—we’re great. So please, stop worrying about it."

Caroline gave her a long, searching look before finally nodding, though her concern hadn’t entirely dissipated. "Just don’t say I didn’t warn you," she murmured as she stood to finish getting dressed.

Azzi rolled her eyes slightly, grabbing her jacket from the back of the chair. "Duly noted," she said dryly as she moved toward the door.

Caroline watched her go, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Just at least think about what I said, Azzi it’s important to have clear expectations," she called after her.

Azzi didn’t respond, instead stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind her. She walked toward the common area, where Paige was lounging on the couch, scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. As Azzi approached, a goofy smile immediately spread across Paige’s face, her eyes lighting up.

Paige sat up straighter, her gaze sweeping over Azzi from head to toe. She licked her lips, standing as Azzi drew closer. "You look amazing," Paige said, her voice low and sincere.

Azzi smiled, her dimples showing, leaning in to give Paige a quick kiss. As she pulled back, she adjusted Paige’s collar playfully, smoothing it down. "Have I ever told you how much I love you in all black?"

Paige smirked, her eyes twinkling. "Yeah a few times," she teased.

For a moment, they simply stood there, soft smiles on their faces as they gazed at each other. The quiet moment between them felt private as the rest of the world faded away.

Paige eventually tilted her head toward the door Azzi had just come from. "You two good?" she asked, her voice casual but laced with curiosity. "You looked a little upset coming out."

Azzi glanced back briefly, then shrugged as she turned her attention back to Paige. "Yeah, we’ll be fine. She’s just being Caroline."

Paige hummed softly, her brows knitting together for a moment, but she didn’t press further knowing Azzi would’ve told her if she wanted her to know. Instead, she stepped aside, gesturing for Azzi to sit with her as she sat back down. Azzi flopped onto the couch, stretching out and draping her legs across Paige’s lap. Paige instinctively rested her hand on Azzi’s knee, her thumb brushing lightly over the fabric as they waited for the others to finish getting ready.

The quiet murmur of their conversation was soon interrupted by the loud arrival of Ice, KK, and Aubrey, who burst into the suite with their usual energy.

KK and Ice immediately broke into exaggerated cheers, clapping their hands and whooping loudly. "Look at ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad,’ holding it down on the couch!" KK teased, grinning as she made her way over.

Ice joined in, pointing dramatically at Paige and Azzi. "Such a cute family moment! We love to see it!"

Paige groaned, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her amused smile. "You two are the worst," she said as Ice plopped down on one side of her and KK wedged herself onto the other, forcing Azzi’s legs off Paige’s lap in the process.

Azzi huffed in protest, crossing her arms as she scooted to the edge of the couch. "Do you mind?" she asked, her tone half-serious, though the corner of her mouth twitched with a smile.

"Nope, not at all!" KK said cheerfully, leaning back and putting her feet up on the coffee table.

"So," KK continued, glancing around the room, "who are we waiting on?"

Azzi opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, Caroline stepped out of her room, adjusting her earrings. "I’m ready," she announced, her tone brisk as she glanced at the group.

"Finally," Ice quipped, standing up and stretching dramatically. "I was starting to think we’d never leave."

Caroline shot her a look but didn’t respond, instead grabbing her jacket and heading toward the door.

The group followed, making their way downstairs to where the rest of the team was already gathered. The energy was lively, with everyone chatting and laughing as they debated who would ride in which car.

…

By the time the team arrived at Ted’s, the place was already alive with the buzz of other UConn students. Laughter and music spilled out of the bar onto the sidewalk, and the energy was contagious. Inside, the familiar space was packed, but the team’s usual table in the corner remained empty—most likely thanks to the bartender, who always seemed to have them in mind.

As they walked in, the group naturally began to disperse. Ice, Aubrey, Ines, and Ashlynn peeled off first, making a beeline toward a group of familiar faces by the jukebox. KK, Caroline, and Aaliyah veered toward the table, where they could set up shop and claim their space. While everyone else including Paige and Azzi wove through the crowd toward the bar. 

“You drinking?” Paige asked, glancing at Azzi who nodded.

“Definitely,” Azzi said. “I need something to get through another night of Ice’s awful karaoke if it happens.”

Paige laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, it’s happening. She’s been hyping herself up for it all day. I heard her warming up in the bathroom this morning.” 

As they reached the bar, Paige leaned casually against the counter, immediately going into a story about something random that had happened at practice earlier in the week with her group. Azzi chuckled, listening with a fond smile as Paige animatedly recounted every detail, as if Azzi wasn’t there. 

“I’m just saying, who even thinks to do a behind-the-back pass in a half-court drill? It’s wild, right?” Paige said, her voice rising slightly over the noise of the bar.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. “I mean, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Barely!” Paige shot back, gesturing emphatically. “KK almost lost it in the bleachers. But you should’ve seen her face—she acted like she just pulled off the play of the year.”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “Sounds about right for KK.”

As Paige continued, her voice full of excitement, Azzi found herself leaning closer, her eyes fixed on Paige’s face. It wasn’t the story that captivated her—it was the way Paige told it, her energy so infectious that it made Azzi forget the rest of the room entirely.

“...and then Geno was just standing there, looking at her like, ‘You done?’” Paige finished, snorting as she imitated his deadpan expression.

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head as the bartender approached. She ordered their drinks quickly, her attention still on Paige.

“You know,” Azzi said once the bartender moved off to make their drinks, “you have a way of making even the most random stuff sound important.”

Paige grinned, leaning against the bar. “That’s because it is important. You just don’t appreciate the art of storytelling.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, her smile softening. “Right. That’s totally it.”

Before Paige could respond, their drinks were placed in front of them. Azzi handed Paige hers, brushing her fingers against Paige’s briefly.

“Thanks,” Paige said, her grin never fading. “And for the record, I know you appreciate it. You just won’t admit it.”

Azzi smirked, picking up her drink. “Maybe I do,” she said, her tone teasing. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

Paige just laughed, taking a sip of her drink as they turned to head back toward their table. 

…

The team had been at Ted’s for about an hour waiting for midnight, passing the time with a round of god-awful karaoke, just as Azzi had dreaded. Laughter filled the bar as they cheered for each other, the air filled with the light buzz of alcohol and their natural competitive energy. Ice was up next unfortunately.

Azzi, Paige, and the rest of the team were seated around the long table, some with drinks in hand, others snacking on appetizers. The table was alive with conversation, laughter, and the occasional groan as another off-key rendition of “I Will Survive” from Ice echoed across the bar.

“Okay, this is torture,” Azzi said, rolling her eyes playfully as Ice launched into her second verse.

“I think she actually sounds worse than she did this morning in the shower if that’s possible” Paige joked. 

Azzi smirked and turned her attention back to the room, her eyes scanning the crowd for anything that might interest her—or at least distract her from the chaos of karaoke. But as her gaze wandered, it landed on someone she hadn’t expected to see: the girl who always seemed to make an appearance at the most inconvenient times. What the hell even was her name? 

Her jaw tightened slightly, the easygoing smirk fading for a fraction of a second.

Paige, always attuned to Azzi’s shifts, noticed immediately. She followed Azzi’s eyeline and spotted the girl across the room who currently seemed blissfully unaware of them, laughing with a group of friends at the bar. Still, Paige recognized the subtle shift in Azzi’s posture, 

“Hey,” Paige said softly, her voice low enough to be lost in the noise of the bar but perfectly clear to Azzi. She lightly touched Azzi’s wrist, bringing her focus back. “You good?”

Azzi blinked, her features relaxing as she looked back at Paige. “Yeah,” she said, her voice calm but not entirely convincing. “I’m fine. Just… caught off guard, that’s all.”

Paige studied her for a moment, her lips pressing together in thought. Then, with a quiet confidence, she set her drink down on the table and reached out, gently pulling Azzi towards her by her waist.

“Don’t worry about her,” Paige said, her voice laced with reassurance. She positioned Azzi between her legs as she sat on the barstool, her hands resting lightly on Azzi’s hips. “You got better things to focus on pretty girl.”

Azzi couldn’t help but smile at Paige’s effortless way of grounding her. “Like you?” she teased, her smirk returning.

Paige raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a grin. “Obviously.”

Meanwhile while the two of them were in their own little world, the rest of the team was caught up in their own chaos. Aubrey was yanking the karaoke mic from Ice, asking the group, "Who's next?"

"Well, I vote for Paige," Ice said with a mischievous grin. "You were judging me way too much this morning—your turn!"

Everyone erupted into playful cheers, and even though Paige groaned and shook her head, Azzi could see the challenge in her eyes. Paige was never going to back down from Ice, the two of them probably the most competitive on the team.

“Yeah, come on, P boogers, show us your moves!” KK shouted, her voice carrying through the room.

Paige shot Azzi a look. “Fine, fine, I’ll do it. But only because I can’t let Ice win.”

Azzi smirked, leaning back in her chair as Paige stood up, finishing off her Dirty Shirley in one smooth motion before confidently striding toward the stage area. The rest of the team burst into cheers, egging her on with shouts of encouragement. “Let’s go, Paige!” Ice hollered, clapping her hands.

As Paige grabbed the mic, her grin widened, the thrill of the moment already lighting up her face. She glanced back at the table, her teammates watching eagerly, and locked eyes with Azzi, who was sitting comfortably, her brow raised in amusement. Paige’s gaze lingered on her for just a beat before she turned to the karaoke screen and scrolled through the selections.

“Oh no,” Ice said with a laugh, leaning toward Azzi. “She’s scheming. You can see it.”

Paige finally settled on her song and stepped back, the opening beats of I Invented Sex by Trey Songz featuring Drake blasting through the speakers. A collective groan and cheer erupted from her teammates. “She’s not serious,” KK laughed, shaking her head.

“Hey girl, hey girl, hey girl… This goes out to the beautiful girls,” she sang, her voice smooth and sultry. The bar erupted in cheers, her teammates the loudest of them all.

“Which one of y’all goin’ home with Trigga?” Paige teased, pointing to a group of strangers near the bar. They whooped, leaning into the attention, but Paige’s smirk showed she was just warming up.

Her energy was infectious as she worked the room. She stepped off the stage, weaving between tables, her eyes gleaming with amusement. Paige locked onto Nika first, throwing an arm around her neck as she sang, “Bottles of the Ace got me with a lil’ buzz… You leaned over and said you want me.”

Nika burst out laughing, raising her hair off her neck and fanning herself dramatically as Paige winked and moved on.

Next, Paige made her way to Aubrey, leaning in close as she sang, “Girl, can we take it upstairs… My bed’s waitin’ there.” Aubrey’s jaw dropped as the rest of the team howled with laughter.

But Paige wasn’t done yet. She circled back to Ice, tapping her shoulder to the beat of the song. “You know I live a magnum lifestyle,” Paige sang, flashing her trademark grin. Ice tossed her head back, raising her drink in mock surrender.

Paige’s playful teasing reached Aaliyah and KK, both getting their own share of her attention as she danced between them, her moves deliberately over the top. The bar ate it up, cheering louder with every step she took.

But when Paige turned to Azzi, her energy shifted.

Her teasing smile softened into something more deliberate, her steps slow and purposeful as she approached. Paige’s voice dipped lower, her eyes locking on Azzi with a bit more intensity.

“Girl, when I pull back them sheets… And you climb on top of me,” Paige sang, standing in front of Azzi now.

Azzi tried to hold her ground, smirking up at Paige with her arms crossed, but her resolve cracked when Paige reached out and took her hand, gently pulling her to her feet.

The crowd roared as Paige sang directly to Azzi, her free hand lightly brushing Azzi’s jaw. “You gon’ think I invented sex,” Paige crooned, her voice dripping with intention and playfulness.

Azzi’s smirk faltered, a deep blush creeping up her neck. Paige wasn’t letting her off the hook, though. As the music swelled, Paige spun around, standing behind Azzi now, her hand lightly resting on Azzi’s hips. She leaned in close, her voice soft in Azzi’s ear.

“It’s a celebration clap, clap, bravo…” Paige sang, her words carrying just enough heat to send Azzi’s blush into overdrive.

Azzi laughed, shaking her head, but her flushed cheeks gave her away. 

By the time the song ended, the whole bar was on its feet, clapping and cheering. Paige bowed with exaggerated flair before walking back to the table, her eyes still locked on Azzi.

"Wow, I'm impressed," Azzi said, her tone amused as she sipped her drink.

“What can I say? I’m a natural,” Paige replied, sitting down beside her. The two of them quickly fell into their usual rhythm of playful banter, Azzi teasing Paige about her exaggerated performance and Paige pretending to be offended as the rest of the team chimed in with their own commentary.

The table was buzzing with laughter and conversation when the same girl from earlier—the one Azzi had clocked near the bar—made her move. She approached confidently, a drink in hand and a smile that suggested she had more than casual conversation in mind.

Paige spotted her from the corner of her eye, her instinct telling her to ignore the interruption. But then she glanced at Azzi, who gave the subtlest tilt of her head, signaling she had it covered. Paige leaned back in her seat, her posture relaxed as she let Azzi take the lead.

The girl stopped in front of Paige, setting the drink down on the table with an audible clink. “I couldn’t help but enjoy your performance tonight,” she said with a coy smile, her eyes lingering on Paige. “Thought you deserved a little something for the effort.”

Before Paige could respond, Azzi reached for the drink, her movements deliberate as she plucked it off the table and took a slow sip through the straw. Her gaze never left the girl, her smirk growing as she set the glass back down. “Thanks,” Azzi said casually, leaning back in her chair.

The girl blinked, clearly thrown. “Uh, that was for Paige,” she said, her tone faltering.

Azzi glanced at Paige through her lashes, her voice dropping into a playful purr. “Baby,” she said, her tone laced with teasing affection, “do you mind?”

Paige tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a small smirk. She licked her lips slowly, her eyes locking with Azzi’s. “Of course not,” she murmured, her voice low and easy.

Azzi’s smirk deepened as her fingers brushed Paige’s neck, her attention returning to the girl, who was now visibly unsettled. The girl shifted her weight, attempting to regain her footing.

“You know,” the girl started, her tone taking on an edge at Azzi’s constant presence, “I’m surprised Paige has stuck with one person for so long. That’s not exactly her reputation.” Her eyes flicked to Azzi, testing for a reaction like last time.

But she didn't get one, Azzi just chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Reputation?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “You mean that phase when she was keeping herself entertained when I wasn’t here yet?” Her gaze flicked to Paige for a moment, her smirk sharpening. “Everyone experiments in college, right, baby?”

Paige, leaning back and watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement, nodded slightly. “Something like that,” she murmured, letting Azzi steer the conversation.

The girl narrowed her eyes slightly, sensing Azzi wasn’t fazed. She straightened up, doubling down. “I wouldn’t call it a phase. Some of us,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness, “leave a lasting impression.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, clearly unimpressed. “Ahh yes, I remember you now,” she said, snapping her fingers as if the memory had just clicked. “You were the one that threw yourself at Paige at a basketball party on campus right? I think she’s told me this story. You kinda just invited yourself to her room. Didn’t she ghost you after though? I remember you asking about it when we were on the way to dinner.” Her tone was light, teasing, but her words landed with precision.

The girl’s face reddened slightly, but she forced a smile. “Maybe,” she said, her voice tight, “but we had fun. She couldn’t keep her hands off me that night.”

Azzi’s grin only grew as she tapped Paige lightly on the shoulder, interrupting her conversation she started with Nika. Paige turned, her brows lifting slightly in question. “What’s up Az?”

Azzi gestured toward the girl with a casual tilt of her head, her amusement clear. “Do you remember her name?” she asked, her tone sweet but undeniably teasing.

Paige frowned slightly, genuinely trying to recall. Her gaze flicked toward Jade for a moment, her lips pressing together in thought. “Um...” She hesitated, searching her memory. “Jessica? Jasmine? No, wait... Jade?” She glanced at Azzi for confirmation, her expression apologetic as she didn’t know what was going on.

Paige’s lips curled into a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry,” she admitted, leaning back against her chair. “I used to get things mixed up a little.” She shrugged lightly, her tone casual but not unkind, as if this was just another awkward interaction to brush past like she used to.

The girl blinked, her confidence visibly cracking. “It’s Jade,” she muttered, her tone defensive.

Azzi chuckled softly, clearly enjoying how effortlessly Paige had diffused the moment. She leaned in closer, her fingers trailing lightly down Paige’s arm before stopping to give her hand a gentle squeeze. Azzi’s voice dropped, just loud enough for Paige to hear. “Go on, don't let me keep you from your chat with Nika.”

Paige’s lips quirked in a subtle smile as she glanced at Azzi. “Oh wow, thanks for the permission,” she teased lightly, her tone playful.

Azzi’s eyes sparkled with humor as she looked back at Jade. “So…now that we have that figured out Jade.” She leaned back, casually resting her hand on Paige’s thigh. “It was nice of you to stop by. I always love a good chat with one of Paige’s old friends.”

Jade looked between them, clearly unsure how to proceed. Paige, finally chiming in as Azzi’s fingers squeezed her thigh, glanced at Azzi. “You having fun, huh?” she asked, her tone warm and teasing.

Azzi grinned, brushing her lips against Paige’s temple. “Always, baby.” She turned her gaze back to Jade. “Thank you for the drink,” Azzi added with a dismissive smile.

Jade hesitated for a moment longer before stepping back. “Well… maybe I’ll see you around,” she said, her tone hollow as she directed a few last words at Paige.

“Maybe,” Azzi replied smoothly, her attention already shifting back to Paige as Jade walked away.

Paige watched her go before breaking into a soft laugh, shaking her head as she leaned into Azzi’s space. “You really are a little crazy,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement.

Azzi’s lips curved into a slow, confident smile as she tilted her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I think you like when I do that,” she said, her tone low and teasing. “You like seeing me put girls in their place.”

Paige bit her lip, her cheeks warming as she let out a breathy chuckle. “I mean,” she started, leaning closer so only Azzi could hear, her voice dropping. “I can’t disagree. It’s definitely sexy.”

Azzi’s grin widened, satisfaction evident in her expression. She leaned in just enough to brush her nose against Paige’s cheek before whispering, “Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping.”

Paige shook her head with a smile, her gaze lingering on Azzi before finally settling back into their conversation with the team. 

…

The final moments of the year started to tick away and the energy in the room was electric. The entire team had moved into the crowd, drawn by the anticipation of the New Year's Eve countdown. Laughter and excitement filled the air as everyone squeezed in together, ready to welcome the new year. Paige and Azzi, of course, were right next to each other, their fingers intertwined and their hands resting comfortably against each other’s bodies. The closeness between them felt natural, effortless, as if the countdown itself was a part of the rhythm they'd already established together.

The countdown began, the voices of friends and strangers alike filling the bar as everyone joined in. “Ten! Nine! Eight…” The cheers grew louder with each passing second, but Paige’s focus was entirely on Azzi. The way the dim lights glinted off her hair, the way Azzi’s eyes shone when they met Paige’s, everything about her pulled Paige in deeper.

“Three! Two! One!” The room erupted in cheers, the sound of laughter and shouts filling the air as fireworks erupted outside. But for Paige and Azzi, time seemed to slow as the world around them disappeared. Azzi’s hands found their way to Paige’s neck, her fingers lightly tracing the skin as she pulled her in close. Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi’s hips, drawing her in, as the two of them shared a long, slow kiss.

The kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity, neither of them willing to let go. The taste of Azzi lingered on Paige’s lips as their bodies pressed closer, as though the kiss itself was a promise—one they had already made and couldn’t break.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless, Paige’s heart pounded in her chest. She blinked rapidly as her hand found Azzi’s cheek, still feeling the heat from their kiss. And before she could stop herself, the words slipped out—soft, breathless, and entirely unintentional.

“God, I love you.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Paige froze, her eyes wide in shock. Her stomach dropped in a mix of panic and realization, as if she’d just said something irreversible. She felt the air in her lungs stutter, unsure whether she should take the words back or let them linger. Her chest tightened with nervousness, the sound of the countdown still echoing in her mind as she waited for Azzi’s response.

But when Paige met Azzi’s gaze, the look on her face was pure awe, like the words she’d just said were the most precious thing she’d ever heard. Azzi’s lips parted slightly, her eyes softening, drinking in every second of the moment.

Azzi didn’t say anything right away. She simply stared at Paige, almost as if she were taking in the weight of those words, letting them settle into the space between them. But Paige, still reeling from her own confession, began to pull away, her nerves getting the better of her. She couldn’t believe she’d said it—couldn’t believe she’d just admitted it out loud. She fucked everything up.

But before she could pull too far back, Azzi’s hands found her again, one gently cupping her face, the other sliding around her back. “Don’t run,” Azzi whispered softly. “You don’t have to run from me Paige.”

Paige met Azzi’s gaze, her heart hammering in her chest, her voice caught in her throat. She tried to breathe deeply, to steady herself, but Azzi’s words were like a soft balm to her panic.

“Be my girlfriend,” Azzi said, her voice steady but full of warmth and tenderness. “Please. So I can tell you every day how much I love you.”

Paige blinked, caught completely off guard by the question. She wasn’t sure how to respond, her thoughts swirling, but Azzi’s eyes were filled with sincerity, and there was no question in the way Azzi was looking at her—only the desire to make her feel safe, loved, and wanted.

“Huh?” Paige managed to say, her voice soft, surprised, and a little nervous. She hadn’t expected this—not like this, not yet.

Azzi laughed gently, her laughter soothing Paige’s nerves. “I said,” she repeated, her voice dripping with affection. “Be my girlfriend. I want to be with you. I want to love you. Let me do that.”

And that was it. In that moment, everything else fell away. There was no more hesitation. No more fear. Paige’s heart swelled, her mind quieting, and she smiled, finally, with a soft, relieved laugh. “Yeah,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, but clear as day. “I will.”

Azzi’s smile stretched across her face as she pulled Paige back in, kissing her again. This time, it was softer, gentler, but no less full of emotion. Their kiss lingered, the pressure of it tender as if they were committing the moment to memory, holding it close for the future. When they finally pulled apart, neither of them wanted to speak, but both knew that everything was different now.

Paige, her heart still racing, looked into Azzi’s eyes and whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. She nodded with a soft smile, her fingers lacing effortlessly with Paige’s as she let her lead the way. Together, they wove through the crowd, their hands tightly clasped. Paige caught Nika’s eye from across the room and gave her a small nod, signaling that they were leaving. Nika smirked knowingly, nodding her approval as Paige and Azzi slipped out the door.

The crisp night air hit them as they stepped outside, a sharp contrast to the warmth and noise of the bar. The snow-dusted streets sparkled under the streetlights, and the faint hum of the city surrounded them. Paige’s hand stayed firmly in Azzi’s, her thumb brushing lightly over Azzi’s knuckles here and there, an unspoken gesture of reassurance.

They walked in companionable silence, the warmth of their drinks still lingering in their systems, though it was quickly overshadowed by the buzz of simply being together. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional car passing by or laughter echoing faintly from another nearby bar.

As they strolled, they passed a brightly lit Dairy Queen. Azzi’s steps faltered slightly, her gaze lingering on the building. Paige noticed immediately, a small laugh escaping her lips.

“You want ice cream, don’t you?” Paige asked, her voice filled with playful amusement.

Azzi tried to feign innocence, but the glint in her eyes betrayed her. “Who says I want ice cream?” she teased, a smile tugging at her lips.

Paige shook her head, already tugging Azzi toward the entrance. “You don’t have to say it, Fudd. I know you too well.”

The bell above the door jingled softly as they stepped inside, greeted by the warmth of the shop and the sweet smell of waffle cones. Azzi’s eyes lit up as she scanned the menu, her focus shifting to the options in front of her. Paige leaned against the counter, her gaze fixed on Azzi with a fond smile.

“What’re you thinking?” Paige asked, her voice soft, almost teasing.

Azzi didn’t look away from the menu. “Chocolate fudge brownie,” she said with mock seriousness, as if it were a life-changing decision.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Solid choice. I’ll get mint chocolate chip, but fair warning—I’m stealing some of yours.”

Azzi shot her a playful glare. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here you are, my girlfriend now” Paige countered, smirking.

Once they had their ice cream, they continued their walk through the quiet streets. The faint crunch of snow underfoot accompanied the occasional bump of their shoulders as they strolled side by side, their breaths visible in the cold air. Paige glanced at Azzi, her lips quirking into a small smile.

“You’re the only person I know who’d want ice cream when there’s snow on the ground,” Paige said, her tone teasing.

Azzi turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “You’re literally eating ice cream right now.”

Paige laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Yeah, because if I didn’t, you would’ve refused to get any.”

“That’s not true,” Azzi argued, though her expression betrayed her.

Paige gave her a knowing look, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Both of us know better.”

Azzi shook her head, a chuckle slipping from her lips as they fell into a comfortable silence. The streets were deserted, the only sounds coming from their footsteps and the faint hum of the city in the distance. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, adding to the quiet beauty of the night.

For a moment, Paige just enjoyed the simplicity of being with Azzi, the warmth of her presence cutting through the chill in the air. But as they continued walking, her thoughts began to spill out.

Paige began, her voice softer now, “I really love you, you know I meant it when I said that right?”

Azzi glanced over at her, a small, dimpled smile breaking across her face as she took another bite of her ice cream. “I do know that,” she said warmly.

Paige’s cheeks reddened slightly, but she pressed on, her words tumbling out like a confession she couldn’t hold onto anymore. “I just..I want you to know that I want this…I want us to be more than just something we look back on from college Az. I want a future with you. I was daydreaming about you walking down the aisle the other day, and I thought I was insane. She paused, glancing at Azzi, who was watching her intently as she talked. “I just…I don’t know what I’d do without you anymore. You’re it for me.”

Azzi slowed her pace, turning to look fully at Paige. Her expression was filled with awe, her eyes shining under the soft glow of the streetlights. “Paige–” she began, her voice full of emotion, “I want a future with you too…I want nothing more than to come home to you everyday for the rest of my life.” 

Paige blinked, her heart swelling as Azzi continued.

“I’ll admit, it scared the hell out of me at first,” Azzi said, her voice quieter now. “We’ve only known each other for half a year and I would do anything for you. It feels like I’ve known you my whole life. Like…a part of me was waiting for you, and I’m discovering so much about myself the more I get to know you.”

Paige’s steps faltered slightly as she processed Azzi’s words, her chest tightening in the best way. She stopped, turning fully toward Azzi and searching her eyes for any hint of doubt—but all she saw was warmth and certainty.

“You mean that?” Paige whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle hush of the falling snow.

Azzi nodded, her dimples deepening as she gave Paige a soft smile. “Every word,” she said.

Paige’s breath hitched, and she reached out, her fingers brushing Azzi’s cheek. “You make me feel like I can do anything, like I’m finally where I’m supposed to be.”

Azzi leaned into Paige’s touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “That’s because you are,” she replied.. “And if I have anything to say about it, you always will be.”

Paige’s lips quirked into a small smile as she stepped closer, the space between them vanishing. “How did I get so lucky?” she asked, her thumb gently tracing along Azzi’s cheekbone.

Azzi’s eyes sparkled as she tilted her head, closing the remaining distance between them. “I think we both got lucky,” she murmured before pressing her lips to Paige’s in a kiss that was soft. 

The world around them seemed to fade as they melted into each other, the warmth of the kiss cutting through the cold air. Paige’s free hand settled on Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer, while Azzi’s fingers threaded through Paige’s hair, anchoring her in the moment.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads pressed together, their breaths visible in the chill of the night.

“I used to think I didn’t have time for this. That I didn’t want anything like this,” Paige admitted, her voice low.

Azzi smiled, her hand sliding down to rest on Paige’s shoulders. “And now?” she asked, her tone gentle.

Paige let out a quiet laugh, her heart feeling impossibly full. “Now I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to imagine it.”

They stood there for a moment longer, wrapped in each other’s arms, the snow continuing to fall around them. The quiet streets felt like their own little world, one where nothing existed but the love they shared.

Finally, Paige broke the silence with a playful grin. “Come on, we’re going to freeze out here.”

Azzi laughed, her dimples reappearing as she reluctantly stepped back. “Okay, but only because I don’t want you blaming me if you catch a cold. You’re a nightmare when you’re sick.”

Paige laced her fingers with Azzi’s, her grip firm and reassuring as they resumed their walk. Their shoulders bumped again, but this time it was intentional, a silent exchange of affection that needed no words.

[your-hockey-mom]

I'm sick and could really use a sweet quinn moment

help? 🤢😩

1:33am.

Quinn lay in bed, in the awkward in between sleep and awake state where everything feels like a dream. He rolls over to find you, however the space where you should be is empty and cold. Not even the lingering hint of your body heat left is behind. How long have you been gone?

"Baby?" He calls out, groggy and with eyes still closed.

When he doesn't get an answer, he sits up in bed and checks his phone for the time. Maybe it was way later than he thought and you had just gotten an early morning for once. Out of character for you, especially when he wasn't on the road, but it was always a possibility. Though, when he reads it's half-past-one in the morning, Quinn knows something must be wrong.

"Babe?" He calls out again, once he's out in the hallway. Still nothing. He's drawn to the living room and the fact that the TV is on but the sofa is empty. "Baby, are you okay? Where are you?"

His heart is beginning to quicken in pace; he's now completely awake given the dread washing over him like ice water. When Quinn turns to look back towards the direction of the bedroom, he sees the sliver of light from the cracked bathroom door. As he approaches, he sees something on the floor, jammed between the door and its facing. It's a blanket. ("Odd," he thinks.)

"Sweetheart? Are you alright?" Quinn gives a couple light knocks to the door yet there's still no response. "Hello?"

He pushes the door open to find you curled up on the bathroom floor. You were shivering as you laid on the cold tile; the blanket too far from reach to give you comfort. An hour ago, you felt nauseous and had left the comfort of Quinn's bedroom. Back and forth from the bathroom to the sofa you had paced, just not sure if and when you'd actually be sick, but you didn't want to risk it. The last trip down the hallway you had dragged a blanket with you around your shoulders. That's when the worse feeling of losing all your groceries had punched you in the gut. You didn't walk this time, there was a silent urgency to hurry. The blanket had been discarded as the door closed behind you.

"Oh, baby! What's wrong?" Quinn says quietly as he kneels beside you. His hand brushes hair from your face as he frowns. He never likes to see you sick, but there's something different about seeing you like this. "Let's get you up off the floor, okay?"

You clench your eyes closed, embarrassed that he's found you this way but you have no strength to fight him. He pulls you to a seated position before picking you up in his arms. "Want to go back to bed?"

"No," you mumble, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

"Okay, okay. That's fine."

Quinn carries you back to the living room, knowing you probably didn't want to go back to the bed for fear that you'd wake him up if you had another episode. You're still trembling in his arms when he sits down on the sofa, still holding you tightly.

"Want me to stay with you?"

"No."

"No?" He asks, confused. "You don't want me to stay?"

"You need to go to bed. You have a game tonight. I'm fine." Your voice was small; like every word took so much strength to say.

"I've a long time till I have to worry about that. Right now, I want to know that you're alright."

You had nothing to say. You didn't want him to see you like this but it was too late.

"C'mon, I'll lay down with you right here. "

"Quinny..."

"Shh, I want to."

The white linen sectional really was comfortable and perfect for laying in your boyfriend's arms, sick or not. Quinn propped himself up in the L-bend, the cushions compressing into his weight. You had mustered the last of your strength to shift your weight to lay between his legs, your head on his chest. He was comforting and warm though the cold chills still refused to leave you.

"Let's cover you up, princess," Quinn cooed, pulling a throw over your exposed skin. His fingers dragged through your hair in a soothing rhythm hoping something he was doing would help. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No." You pull the blanket up over your face. "But thank you." Your words muffled beneath the fabric.

Even though you felt awful, you still managed to bring a smile to his face, doing unintentionally cute things without trying. "You're welcome, baby. Get some rest okay? If you need anything, just tell me, and I'll do what I can."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He'd hold you the whole night; his fingers still tangled in your hair come morning. His heartbeat had lulled you to sleep; his body heat soothed any discomfort your body had held on to. You wouldn't have any more nauseous episodes, which you were most thankful for. Even Quinn managed restful sleep, his gentle snoring barely heard over the TV.

[ripdragonbeans]

Winter Activities // modern!Aegon x Reader

Summary: You and Aegon try to come up with ideas to do that are Winter themed but then something else comes to your mind instead.

Warnings: little head injury, smut

“Aegon, you asshole!” You screamed. 

A snowball hit you square in the face and Aegon was by himself with laughter. The snow was high enough that it covered your ankles. Walking and running in the snow proved to be a challenge in itself. Awkwardly moving in the snow, you did your best to get away from Aegon, only to face plant in the snow.

Aegon resumed his laughter. “You okay?” He asked when he caught his breath.

Instead of saying anything you held a thumbs up. You were still face first in the snow and mumbled something about being comfortable in the freezing weather.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Aegon said as he made his way to you.

Finally, you rolled over so you were on your back, still refusing to get up. As you sank into the snow you said, “Excuse you, I’m perfectly fine laying in the freezing snow after being hit in the face with a snowball, thank you very much.”

“If I join you will that make everything better?”

You pouted as you nodded your head. Aegon fell back unceremoniously onto the snowy ground and stared up at the sky.

“This better?” He asked.

You rolled over to envelop him in a hug on the ground. “Better.”

It was a sweet moment, the two of you holding each other in the snow. That is until Aegon snuck his hand around you with the excuse of wanting to hold you closer. He gathered a fist full of snow in his hand and smacked the back of your head before getting up and running away. 

“Aegon, you asshole!” You called after him. You struggled to get up, slipping on the snow and not finding very good footing. Once you gained your balance you sprinted after your chaotic boyfriend.

“Not my fault you're not good at snowball fights, bunny,” Aegon said as he made you two hot chocolate.

You were nursing a bump on your head. It appeared a bit after you came inside. You figured it was from the snowball fight and immediately accused Aegon. 

“That doesn't mean I should get a fucking concussion,” you countered.

“It's not a concussion, it's just a little bump.” Aegon plopped himself next to you on the couch. “Now, drink your hot chocolate before I drink it up.”

“Heathen.”

“Yes, but I'm your heathen.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Taking a sip of your hot drink, you relaxed a bit. You weren't mad at Aegon, you were just giving him a hard time because you knew he'd push back. It was your thing. You'd push each other's buttons and then make up. It was part of the fun of your relationship.

“What should we do next?” You asked as you put down your mug.

Aegon shrugged. “I don't know? There's a cookie set in the cabinet that we haven't used yet.”

That got you excited. Your eyes lit up as you smiled. “I forgot about those! Yes, let's decorate cookies!” You rushed to get up and almost knocked your hot chocolate over but Aegon was there to save it.

“Careful, bunny,” he laughed. He pulled you into his lap by your waist once he moved the mug out of the way. “You're very adorable when you get excited, you know that?” He nuzzled into your neck.

You giggled. “Maybe.” Pressing a soft kiss against his forehead you slowly started moving your hips.

Aegon groaned. “What happened to the cookies?”

“Well, since you put me on your lap I thought of a different idea.” 

You could feel him getting hard through his pants. Aegon’s hands went from your waist to your ass. After giving you a quick squeeze, he captured your lips in a heated kiss.

It wasn't a soft kiss, it was a kiss full of passion and impatience. You began to grind against him even more as you ran a hand up under his shirt. You needed the skin to skin feeling. 

Aegon pulled at your lip gently. “Do you want something?” He teased.

“I want your clothes off,” you murmured against him.

“And I want yours off, too.” Aegon slipped his hand underneath your shirt and cupped your breasts.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

“What?” Aegon ran a thumb over your nipple. He reached around and unclasped your bra and let it fall. “Oops.”

Pulling Aegon back into a searing kiss, you tore his shirt over his head and soon did the same to yours. You pressed your bodies against each other, basking in the warmth.

Aegon slipped his hands beneath the waistband of your pants and tugged them down. Smiling, you got off his lap and finished the job. Clad in only your panties, you turned around to give him a whole view of yourself. Aegon quickly followed and discarded his pants and underwear, leaving him completely bare. You couldn't help but stare at his hard member.

“See something you like?” He taunted.

You gently pushed him back into the couch and kneeled before him. “You know what I like.”

Aegon gripped your chin in his hands. “Then take it.”

So you did.

Spitting in your hand, you gripped Aegon's cock and began to work it up and down. His eyes never left you but you could tell he was getting worked up. Leaning forward, you darted your tongue out to lick just the tip. Aegon couldn't help the groan that came out of his mouth or the pump of his hips into the air.

Smiling deviously, you slowly took as much of him in your mouth as you could. You still had to use a hand to work all of him. You looked up and gave him a wink before bobbing your head up and down. With each thrust you'd take more and more of him until he was hitting the back of your throat. Aegon’s hands went to your hair and he held you down. You bobbed your head just a little more and then hummed around his cock.

“Fuck!” Aegon released your head but soon began meeting you with his thrusts.

You were sure he was going to finish in your mouth but he pulled you off of him and into another searing kiss.

“When I come, it's going to be in that tight pussy, bunny, not in your mouth,” he said against you. “But first.”

Aegon kissed his way down your body, making sure to stop at your tits and to suck on a nipple before switching to the other one. He knew you loved nipple play and it never failed to make you wet. You could feel yourself getting more and more wet the longer he played with you. While his mouth would work on, his hand would go to the other to pinch and play.

You tried sitting in his lap again but Aegon pushed you out to the couch and spread your legs. You were bare for him. 

“Fuck, you're wet,” he said as he stared at you. 

Tentatively, he prodded one finger at your folds. You mewled and lifted your hips up for more. You thought he would push you down but he did just the opposite. He pulled you closer to him and descended on your pussy. 

His mouth was magic. He ate you out like a man starved. You couldn't help your moans of pleasure as he devoured you. When he focused on your clit he stuck two fingers in, making you scream in surprise and pleasure. He made sure his pumping matched his licks and it had you seeing stars. He latched into your clit and hummed, sending vibrations all throughout your body.

“Fuck, fuck fuck!” You called out as you began nearing your peak.

“That's right, bunny,” Aegon praised you. “Come for me.”

Those words sent you into straight bliss. Pleasure darkened your vision until you could focus on nothing but the feeling Aegon was causing you.

Slowly, Aegon came to a stop and pulled his fingers out of your entrance but carefully placed them in your mouth. 

“Suck.” He ordered.

Looking at him with big eyes, you did as he commanded and tasted yourself on his fingers.

“What a good girl,” he cooed as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his own lips. 

Again, you tasted yourself on him and you loved it.

“We're going to do something special, bunny. Trust me and get on all fours.”

You nodded your head and did as he said, still in bliss from your orgasm. Aegon slapped your ass as soon as it was in the air but quickly soothed it with a kiss. He spread your cheeks open and groaned. 

“Gods, you're gorgeous like this,” he said before he licked your puckered hole.

You whimpered as his tongue ran over it.

“I won't use this hole. At least not yet, bunny,” he told you. “What I will use, though, is this wet pussy.”

Aegon took the base of his cock to guide it over your folds. You shivered at the feeling. He was teasing you. He would circle your entrance and almost enter you but would let his cock slide up and over.

It wasn't until you complained and shook your ass that he grabbed his cock and thrust into you.

It wasn't sweet, it wasn't gentle, it was hard and fast; just how you like it.

Being fucked from behind had him going deeper than ever before and you loved it. Aegon was hitting all these spots you never knew existed and you were obsessed. 

His hand came around your chest to play with your tits, which wound you up even more. Pleasure built within you as you met each thrust.

“Aegon, please,” you whined.

“Please, what, bunny?”

“Please let me come.”

Aegon thrust harder and harder, making you scream out. Your legs were going weak, the pleasure was becoming too much. Aegon grabbed your hair and pulled you up so your back was flush against him.

“Come for me.”

With a cry of pleasure you let yourself go. Aegon continued to fuck you through your orgasm, chasing his own. He pushed you back down on all fours as he grabbed your hips and rutted into you.

“Fuck, bunny, I'm gonna -”

Aegon spilled his seed inside you, filling you up. Even as he finished up, he slowly kept thrusting into you, making you mewl.

After a while, he finally stilled and collapsed on top of you. Breathing hard, you moved your hand so you could run it through his hair, even at an awkward angle.

“Gods, that was -”

“- Holy fuck, bunny.”

You laughed. “Yeah.”

“Ugh, I don't want to move.”

“As much as I love having you on top of me, you're beginning to crush my lungs.”

Aegon groaned as he rolled over next to you. He pulled you in and held you tight. “Okay, time to sleep, bunny,” he yawned.

“You're not… you're not going to clean me up? Or move us to the bedroom?”

“Fuck, we're still on the couch.”

“And we have chocolate that's probably cold.”

“FUCK!”

And with that, Aegon jumped off of you to grab the hot chocolate mugs and rush them to the microwave, naked and all.

[midnight-mourning]

Christmas Spirit

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 12❄️❄️

woof, now we're REAL behind chat, apologies was busy but also like, feeling unwell, but here we are! hope you enjoy :)

Prompt: christmas request! Reader doesn't care for christmas since their relationship with their family isnt great and nearly ever christmas since they moved out included multiple fights or screaming matches; they just want to have a positive association with christmas and don't mind working on a holiday at their crazy but chill job with their favorite animatronic coworkers. And these fellow coworkers intend to make sure this christmas is a postive one even if theres silly mishaps here and there.

Word Count: 2048

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

When you realized the date this morning, to say your heart sunk into your chest was an understatement. Sure, maybe it was a bit dramatic to go from chipper and ready for the day, to dragging your feet out the door, but to be fair, this wasn't exactly your favorite time of year. So, you think you had a little bit of a pass. 

Though, as you slam open the door to the Daycare just a tad too harshly, spooking Sun whilst he was mid-decorating, you cringe. Maybe not too much of a pass. 

He shakes it off, however, bounding over to you as happily as ever. "Good morning Sunshine! And how are we today?"

You decide to brush off your mistake. Based on the current state of things, he's very excited about the coming holiday, and you'd hate to ruin that for him. 

"I'm doing well, Sunny. And what about you? The place looks great!" You motion to how already, the Daycare is already well on its way to being totally decorated. It's impressive, to say the least. You left less than 24 hours ago, though he probably has a lot more time on his hands than you. 

He puts a hand to his faceplate, waving the other bashfully. "Oh, we're just getting started! Would you like to help?"

"Ah, I don't want to um, get in your way at all." Not to mention even the idea of touching a decoration makes you want to fling it across the room. Despite how ridiculous a notion that is. You shake your head. "I'll just get stuff set up for the day as usual!"

Sun hesitates a moment, rays shrinking. "Oh, okay then! Well, if you change your mind, just let me know! Always happy to have your touch with these things."

You're too distracted by your own discomfort to acknowledge the compliment. Instead only offering a quick nod and a smile as you march over to the craft station and start preparing. 

You'd hope that would be the end of things, but you weren't so lucky. All throughout the day, both sides of the Attendant seem to be ever curious about your thoughts on different holiday plans they have, asking your opinion on this or that. Whether they realize it or not, you can feel your weariness about the topic growing worse, and paitence wearing thin. 

It was only a matter of time before you cracked, and it happens at probably the worst moment to do so; puppet time. 

Sun decided to put on a Christmas themed show—of course—and had all but insisted for your help. Again, not wanting to cause issues, you agree. However, it's easier said than done. 

"—And we all just enjoy the holidays so much, don't we friend?" Sun asks, ever in character with his hand puppet.

You chuckle, awkward. "We sure do!"

"What's your favorite part of the season?" His little character does a spin on the mini stage. "Mine is making cookies, oh oh! And playing out in the snow, and wrapping presents for my friends!"

For some reason the question—which should have been expected—throws you for a loop. "Oh, well, I don't really have anything in particular. But I'd love to hear more about your favorite activities!"

"Oh come on, everyone has something that's their favorite." He presses, unintentionally pushing your buttons. 

At that moment all you can think about is all the years of arguing, fights, yelling. Family members bickering about things that don't matter, and yet, won't talk to each other for weeks afterward because of some minor slip of the tongue. Feelings of being isolated, alone, and utterly miserable creep in. 

You can't help the words that slip out then. "Well, some of us don't like Christmas very much at all!" You say, voice over the top with fake cheer.

Sun seems to take the hint then and thankfully, recovers the show from there. You're a bit embarrassed to need the save. You didn't think you'd lose your composure over a silly puppet show, but apparently, you were wrong. 

It's when you're packing things up to get ready for naptime that Sun broaches the topic once more.

"You, you don't like Christmas, Starshine?" Sun asks, voice soft. 

You take a deep breath, then shake your head. "I, no, not really. No." You see Sun's rays shrink, and put your puppet-free hand up. "But it's okay! Really don't let me bum you out any. I'm sorry I lost my cool for a moment there. It won't, won't happen again."

Before you can speak on it any further, you turn away, heading to start getting naptime mats out and such. Had you not, you would have seen Sun's hand reaching out for you, concern and care clearly evident on his features. 

After that little incident, neither Attendant talks to you about the holiday in detail again. You still discuss activities as usual, but they don't ask specifics of you anymore. You're relieved, but you do feel bad. You hope to make it up to them by having an easy day of work on Christmas itself. 

Get some organization done, clean up some things that you've been putting off, that kind of thing. Hell, maybe you'll even tolerate some holiday music while you work too. 

When you walk inside bright and early on Christmas morning however, Sun nearly jumps out of his skin upon seeing you. At least, you think he would have if he did have skin, that is. 

"Sunbeam! Wha—what are you doing here today?" He rushes over to you. 

You smile and start taking off your coat. "I work today, Sun. Obviously."

After removing your hat and scarf, you grab your apron, brushing it off once or twice before clapping. "So, I was thinking we tackle the craft closet first and foremost, and then go from there with all our usual stuff, that sound good?"

When he doesn't answer you turn, only to jump when you realize he's right behind you, rays flicking side to side. He takes hold of your shoulders and bends to your level. 

"Starshine."

"Sun." You nod. 

His grip tightens for a moment, then loosens. He narrows his eyes. "We, are not. Working. On. Christmas."

"Well I'm already here—"

He shakes his head, picking you up suddenly. "Nope. Absolutely not. I won't allow it. If you're going to be here then we're going to make this right."

"Hey! Put me down! Where are you even taking me?" You kick your legs in vein, now slightly annoyed. Before you thought he was just joking, but now you realize he's dead serious. 

You get your answer when he sets you down in a bean bag. Taking a moment to snatch up a blanket with one hand and untie your apron with the other. Before you can blink, the blanket is laid across you, you have several Christmas themed stuffed animals surrounding you, there's a set of antlers on your head, along with a coloring book in your lap. 

Sun nods once down at you, hands on his hips. "Now, you get started on that and I'll get you some hot coco. Okay?"

"What, but—"

But he's already off again, "Don't move~ I'll be just a moment!"

Deciding that you're better off to indulge for a little bit, as opposed to outright protesting, you do as he asks. And, while not your favorite thing in the world, sitting and coloring in the peace of the Daycare, holiday music playing softly around you, is nice. 

Sun's gone for longer than you would have expected. Especially for just a cup of premade hot chocolate. But, when he eventually returns you do take the time to thank him for the quick break, that you appreciate the thought, and that you're ready to actually get started for the day. 

Surprisingly—suspiciously—he agrees. 

You won't admit to longing for the warmth of the cozy nest you leave as you stand, but the longing isn't allowed to last for long. Sun's hand is tightly wound with yours as he leads you out of the Daycare and towards the theater. 

You take a sip of your drink, confused but still following. "Um, did you want to start with the theater's supply closet then?"

"Friend, when I said no work on Christmas, I wasn't kidding." He stops just short of the entrance, energy now becoming more antsy. 

He lets go of your hand and you frown. "I told you it's alright, Sunny. I don't mind, honestly."

"I know! We know, but,"—he shakes his head—"We want to, change that. Make it up to you! If, you'll let us?"

He's looking to you now. You're hesitant, of course you are, but you can at least hear him out. "Sure, bud."

"If you don't like it, that's okay too! We just, wanted to try." He turns slightly and starts to open the door.

You open your mouth to respond but are instead taken aback by how pretty the theater looks. There's warm lights strung across the ceiling, decorations of red and green that sparkle. A medium sized tree with decorations laying nearby sits near the middle of the room. Snowflakes in all intricate patterns litter the space. There's a video of a yule log playing on the screen, and music softly twinkles around you. 

While not as intense as the Daycare in terms of the level of Christmas-vibes, there's something more, comforting, about it. Something maybe a bit more familiar, that unlocks a memory you'd left behind back when you were much smaller. 

"When did you find the time for all of this?" You ask quietly. You'd been in here just yesterday and it looked nothing like this. 

Sun comes up behind you, hand on your shoulder. "Just now. We just thought that maybe something a bit more relaxed, but still festive, could be fun for you? We can decorate the tree, or, or watch movies, or dance. Whatever you would like, honestly. Whatever you want." 

"Whatever I want?" You look up to him, almost unable to speak.

He looks down to you and after a pause, wraps his arms around you with a nod. "No one should be sad during the holidays, Star. And it's, it's not our business why but, well, we just want to try and change that for a little bit. To try and make you a little happier."

The tears well up before you can stop them. 

Sun starts panicking. "Oh! Don't cry. It's okay, we can just go back to the Daycare—"

"No, no it's okay, really." You sniff. Your reaches up to his faceplate, halting his fretting. "They're happy tears. I'm very grateful. And emotional."

He relaxes into your touch, but his tone is still concerned. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah I,"—you shake your head—"You know what? Let me just show you."

Without thinking further, you raise your other hand and pull his faceplate down to your lips. You release him again after a moment, giggling. 

Sun's rays click, then—"Just to be sure, Moon would also like you to show him."

This causes you to laugh outright, and soon enough you're in the naptime attendant's arms instead. 

You spend the rest of your day in higher spirits than you would have otherwise expected for the holiday. The attendant takes turns doing the various activities they planned with you. And maybe it's only because it's with them, or because of the new relationship you've found yourself in, but you find it all to be so much more bearable than before. More than bearable really, enjoyable. Truly and completely, enjoyable. For the first time in a long time. 

"What are you thinking of, Star?" Moon asks as the two of you dance across the room. 

You shake your head, smiling. "Just about how much I appreciate the two of you, is all."

"Just appreciate?"

You scoff. "I think you know by now it's more than that. Don't even think of trying to scam me out of more kisses."

He snickers in response. 

Just the music for a moment. 

"Thank you, guys. It means a lot."

Moon bends you for a dip, leaning in. "Merry Christmas, Starlight."

"Merry Christmas, Moon."

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you for the request @pip-plz!! Was fun to take this and make something wholesome, esp as someone who hasn't always had a fun holiday experience myself, hope I did it some justice!

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[nightingalescall]

The Devil and Angel's Waltz

Kingdom of Ebreau:

prologue|part 1|part 2|part 3(you are here)

"Are you disfigured?"

"What?"

"Nevermind."

You stared at the maid as she walked away, stunned.

What in the...

"Something the matter, Messiah?" Marika's voice rang from across the table. You turned your gaze back and blinked.

"It's nothing, your highness." You smiled politely as you raised the teacup to your lips, eager to taste the drink. The smell wafted into your nose first before it even reached your tongue.

Jasmine tea.

You swallowed.

With honey.

You placed the cup back down on the coaster. The tea was well balanced. If not steeped for too long, Jasmine tea is quite flavourless with only its aroma to remind you of the kind of drink it was. The honey mixed in afterward added a nice subtle tone of sweetness to the otherwise bland tea.

It's good.

Under normal circumstances, you would have said it tasted great but the question the maid whispered into your ear earlier as she poured you this drink made the liquid not go down right. You'd even say it had an unusual bitter aftertaste.

"You may simply call me Marika, Messiah. You are no ordinary folk so no need for such formalities." Marika smiled as she reached for a cookie on the table. "T-that wouldn't be very polite of me, your highness." You declined her request, letting out an awkward laugh.

You glanced at Zephyr beside you. He hasn't said anything ever since you arrived at the palace. His cup of tea sat untouched on the table, growing colder by the minute. A slight smile was present on his lips as he listened but it felt different from the one you’re used to seeing.

It looked…superficial. Fake. Ingenuine.

Zephyr didn't want to be here.

That makes two of you then.

Actually, scratch that. That makes three of you.

You peaked at the silent white hair beside Marika from the corner of your eyes. This was the fourth time since the moment you two met. With the help of your veil, you managed to avoid detection by the prince whenever you snuck glances at him. You wished you didn't have to do this but Calerus' words still rang clear in your mind.

Beware the heretics.

It would be foolish of you to ignore this individual when even god himself tells you to be wary of him.

Thus, even with your whole body going into fight or flight mode, screaming at you to look away from his eyes, your mind was determined to keep tabs on him.

Xion was sitting with his legs crossed, one over the other. His hands placed neatly on his lap, occasionally patting down his silver uniform and smoothing out any creases. He kept his gaze on the table in front of him or off to the side throughout the entire conversation. His ruby eyes were distant and unfocused like he was thinking, plotting, scheming.

He was mentally elsewhere you concluded.

You looked away, not letting your gaze linger longer. You turned back towards Marika, who seems to be the only person who actually wanted to be here. She finished swallowing the bite of the cookie she had eaten before continuing. "I don't mind, Messiah. Please just call me that. If we are to rule together and protect Ebreau, putting so much importance on our statuses and titles will only obstruct our cooperation." She reasoned.

"I-I see..." You mumbled behind your cup as you took another sip of the tea to calm your nerves. Silence fell over the table. You looked up from your cup in confusion. Marika stared back at you, the same sweet smile on her face.

...?

You knitted your eyebrows together behind your veil.

What's going on...?

Xion's priecing gaze snapped towards you. Your body froze in place as he stared you down, like a predator does before pouncing on its prey. Your mind raced for words to say as the staring continued.

"The temple simply call her 'Messiah', your highness. However, if you must know, her name is (y/n)." Zephyr finally said his first words after getting here, helping you break the silence. "Ah, I see. Then, (y/n), I hope this will be a fruitful collaboration." Marika smiled.

Oh, she just wanted your name?

The realisation hit you and you breathed a sigh of relief, your hands relaxing their tight grip around your tea cup. You felt Xion's eyes also leave you as the tension that hung in the air dissipated. You internally thanked Zephyr for answering in your stead, not daring to think how long that silence would have lasted or how it would have been broken if he didn’t.

"Would you like to see the ballroom now, (y/n)?" Marika placed her cup down. "You may practice there while the servants are finishing up the preparations for tonight's ceremony. I will personally inform them if you wish." The queen offered. It would be a good idea to familiarise yourself with 'the stage' for tonight. Plus, extra practice could never hurt.

"I would like that, M-marika." You struggled to get the queen's name out your mouth. It felt wrong to call someone with such status by their first name. "Follow me then." Marika smiled and stood up, leading the way out of the room. Xion followed behind her, not bothering to toss you a glance. You and Zephyr walked at the back, side by side.

The palace's hallways were long. Not surprising there. With multiple twists and turns, up and down some stairs, the walk there seemed to stretch on forever. At least the walkways were decorated very nicely though. They provided some form of distraction from this boring excursion. The walls were painted in white with some kind of floral motive drawn on in silver near the bottom and top. Paintings of knights on horses, nobles in luxurious clothing, flowers in the wild and many more (including some abstract ones that didn't look like anything at all) hung on the wall. Some almost side by side, some few and far between. The carpet beneathe your feet was blue with golden edges as it paved the entire way to the ballroom, even the stairs had them. Plus, it looked surprisingly clean.

The servants here must work real hard.

You thought to yourself as a butler pushed open a large wooden door, allowing your little entourage to enter.

The room before you was spacious, to say the least. Just from one glance, you could tell this was the ballroom where nobles and commoners alike would gather during special occasions.

Just like your initiation tonight.

The ballroom was beautiful and extravagant even without any extra decorations. The floor was marble and it glistened. Looking down at it, you could see your reflection in it. No doubt the work of the maids mopping it on the other side of the ballroom. A small stage was placed to the side for the orchestra who will be responsible for the music of your dance tonight. Two long tables were placed opposing the stage, on the other side of the ballroom. You assumed it's for the food that will be served this evening. Several butlers were up on ladders, wiping away at the glass windows, determined to clean away any smudges.

You turned your gaze ahead of you.

A young maid was wiping down the thrones Marika and Xion would be seated on for tonight at the far end of the ballroom.

The servants here definitely work real hard.

"You may practice here for the afternoon, (y/n). I have informed the servants here to let you use the dance floor." Marika turned to you and said with a smile. Behind her, the butler who had helped open the door walked away and towards the directions of other servants, probably to inform them of the queen's order. "Thank you, your highness." You nodded your head at her before catching your error. "Marika." You corrected yourself.

Marika's smile grew even wider at that. "I will leave you to it then, (y/n). I still have matters to attend to before the ceremony starts tonight so I must excuse myself." Marika made her way back towards the door before stopping and turning back towards you one last time. "Please don't hesitant to call any of the servants if you need something. They'll be happy to serve you." The queen finally stepped out of the room.

Silence fell over your group for a moment as you stared Zephyr, Zephyr stared at you and...Xion stared at you both. To be honest, you were too scared to look at Xion but the current situation called for it so you slowly shifted your gaze to the prince.

Xion was still looking at you with those cold ruby eyes. His face blank and his body unmoving. It was unnerving how still he was. It was like he was simply observing you, waiting for the right time to make a move. But what that move is, you’re not sure.

You opened your mouth to speak but before any words came out, Xion bowed. "I will leave now too." He excused himself and within a few seconds, he was gone as well.

...

You watched as he left and as the door swung shut, you let out a sigh of relief, the tension in your body dissipating. It felt like you could finally breathe again.

"Are you alright, Lady (y/n)?" Zephyr's voice sounded beside you and you felt his hand on your back. His worried face came into view as he leaned down, his bangs falling to one side as he did so. "...That..." you started as you tried to find the right words to describe how you were feeling. The thumping of your heart, the sweat in your palms, the nauseousness and the dread. There really was only one answer.

"That was terrifying."

~✟~

What is this room for?

The thought flashed through your mind as you slipped on the ceremonial dress. The soft silky fabric rubbing against your face as you pulled it down your head and then body. Your hands patted down the bodice and skirt, smoothing out any creases and ensuring there were no folds.

You walked towards the full body mirror placed beside a bookshelf on the left side of the room. The room was nearly identical to the one you had tea with the queen and prince just now with only the arrangement of furniture slightly different and an extra mirror for some reason (maybe you're too poor to understand the taste rich people have in interior design). You stood in front of the mirror, admiring the details of the dress.

For the monumental ceremony tonight, the temple went all out with your clothes. Similar to your daily attire, the garment was in the shade of gold. The fabric metallic and shining. A clear statement of its high quality. The skirt reached down to the floor. Its hems brushing against the carpet beneathe your feet with every movement. The skirt was further accentuated with a few layers of sheer fabric in a similar colour, some longer, some shorter, creating patterns and adding volume to the skirt. Floral patterns were embroidered on parts of the fabric using gold thread and finally dusted with a small amount of glitter as a finishing touch.

The sleeves were long just as your usual clothing. The fabric was semi transparent and clung loosely to your arms. Not a bad choice considering how light and airy it was, not to mention soft. There was no collar, making it perfectly breathable and easy to move in.

You can't imagine how much money they spent to get something with such standard.

Better take care and not rip it.

You reminded yourself before slipping on the pair of black court shoes that were prepared for you.

Leather. Sturdy.

You clicked the heels of the shoes together twice. The sharp sound resounding loudly through the room.

"Alright, all done here... Time to head back." You mumbled to yourself as you folded your clothes and took them into hand. As you exited the room, you grabbed your veil on the table beside the door with your other hand and pushed the door shut using your foot once outside.

Back to the ballroom. Zephyr should be back with the new veil too.

You turned right and headed down the hallway, retracing the path the butler had shown you before to get here. The butler was kind enough to lead you to an empty room not far from the ballroom to allow you some privacy to get changed. Zephyr went to retrieve the modified veil in the meantime so it was just you for once.

With one hand, you twisted and turned the veil, trying to find the opening where your head was supposed to go. Once you do, you leaned down slightly and threw it on before securing it in place using a hair pin. You patted down the veil, especially the back side of it where you couldn't see, not wanting any of the fabric to fold or stick out.

Lowering your hand, you focused on getting back, your feet light with each step. You felt at ease, the boulder weighing on your heart there no more. Knowing that it was just going to be you and Zephyr for the rest of the morning and early afternoon, it relieved you. Just time for some last minute rehearsals and then rest. No more queens and princes-

"Messiah."

You froze in place and your blood ran cold. The tranquility beforehand vanishing into thin air and in its place, an agonising dread. Your heart pounded. Your anxiety spiked. Your muscles tensed as your mind went blank. Consumed by an all-devouring fear, you stood still in the middle of the hallway, unable to run from certain 'death'.

Footsteps thumped closer. You squeezed your eyes shut and clenched your fists, bracing yourself for what's to come.

You turned.

"Your highness?"

It was a miracle how your voice didn't crack.

Xion strode over, the same deadpan expression on his angular face. His boots clicking softly against the carpeted floor.

"I thought you left, your highness. Is there something else you have to take care of here?" You mustered all of your courage and spoke, trying to sound calm and composed but your voice still gave you away, wavering during the sentence.

Crap.

You cursed internally.

Steady thyself, lamb. This is thy chance to persuade this apostate.

Calerus' voice rumbled from deep within your mind again.

Your eyebrows twitched.

Persuade? What does that mean??

No response from the deity.

"..."

The people around you seemed to have a tendency of ignoring you. Xion, similar to Calerus, remained silent, not bothering to answer your question.

He got closer and closer until he was directly in front of you before...

Walking past.

You knitted your eyebrows in confusion before moving to turn to him.

"Your highne-"

"Don't move."

Every muscle in your body obeyed.

You stared ahead of you, frozen in place as Xion went around to your back.

His presence sent shivers down your spine as he stood behind you. Even with your back turned, you could feel him staring you down. It felt like daggers going straight into your head, making you feel numb and afraid.

You felt his breath hit your nape as your veil is gently lifted by him. It was warm, surprisingly. Considering his icy nature, you thought even his breath would be cold.

"Y-your highness, what are you doing?" You couldn't hold back the voice crack this time. In a similar fashion, your question gets ignored once more.

A light touch and all your hairs stand on end. His hands brushed against your nape as he reached for you from behind.

Was this it? Was he going to choke you? Suffocate you right here and now?

You clenched your fists and gritted your teeth, the only movement you were able to do in your frozen state. Alarms blared inside your mind, urging you to make a break for it, to run as far away as possible from the danger but something stopped you from doing so. Was it paralyzing fear? Or something more...divine?

You twitched. Sensation finally coming back to your limbs. The muscles in your legs tensed and contracted, ready to start sprinting any moment now.

You took a step forward.

And Xion put down his hands.

"..."

"..."

You took a deep breath and slowly...very slowly glanced behind you. Xion still had that deadpan look on his face as he stared at you. His ruby eyes shone like gems under the light that flooded in from the nearby window.

You tried to talk, to ask what all that was about but words fail you. Only shaky exhales come out when you open your mouth, a sign of the fear that still grasped you.

Xion looked on silently. You watched him, searching his face for any microexpression that could reveal what he was thinking or why he did what he did.

...A frown.

It was quick. Unnoticeable if you hadn't been paying attention. A small dip in the corners of his lips before it was gone and his mouth began to move.

"You’re staring, Messiah." Xion's voice snapped you out of it.

You immediately adverted your eyes as you tried to salvage the situation.

"Ah, I'm terribly sorry, your highness." You bowed and said quickly. "I didn't mean to. I was just....confused! About what you just did...?" You ended your sentence in a question. Unintentional but perhaps necessary since you didn't know if he even did anything to you.

Another brief silence. However, this time, the prince seemed gracious enough to answer your question.

"Your button was undone." Xion pointed out.

You blinked.

My button....?

Then a thought occured to you and you reached behind your back. There, at the opening for your head, just below your nape, you felt a little button that you had managed to miss when you were putting on the dress.

"I saw it before you put on your veil." Xion was being extra talkative right now, having just said two sentences back to back.

"I see. How did I miss that....Thank you, your highness." You smiled in embarrassment. The tension in your shoulders dissipated as you heaved a silent sigh of relief. Glad to know he wasn't planning on hurting you or anything of the sorts. You weren't sure why he was still here in the first place despite already excusing himself but then again, you're not familiar with the palace's layout so maybe there's something at the other end of this hallway or maybe even beyond it. It was hard to say.

"If nothing else, your highness, please excuse me. I need to get back to the ballroom." You quickly bowed and stepped aside, eager to leave and get away from him.

"Please wait, Messiah."

Xion's arm appeared before you, stopping you in your tracks.

?

You glanced at him in confusion.

What now...?

Xion was quiet as he stared at you and that's when you notice something swirling in his eyes. Something that wasn't there before. It wasn't devoid of emotions like earlier. You could see...

Caution.

He seemed...cautious of you.

But that doesn't make sense. Why would he be cautious of me?

Before your thoughts could go further, the prince opened his mouth. "Why were you staring at me?" He took a step towards you.

Your eyes widen in surprise, not expecting a question, much less a confrontation from him. "S-sorry?" You stuttered in response, your mind still in denial of what he was referring to, too afraid to accept the fact that he may have noticed.

"Back when you were having tea with the Queen. I noticed you looking at me. May I know why?" His voice was low and cold. He had asked a question but you knew that that didn't mean he gave you a choice.

You swallowed nervously as you looked up at him. You tried to think of a reason to excuse your suspicious behaviour. There was no way you could tell him the literal god this kingdom worships told you to be weary of him. You weren't even sure how he found out in the first place. You made sure to be discreet about it and you wore your veil to cover your eyes from view. The chances of catching you watching him were low and yet...

"..." You opened and closed your mouth, no words finding their way up your throat.

Crap, I'm blanking.

"Messiah..." Xion muttered under his breath and suddenly, his face appeared inches away from yours. His blood red eyes seemed to pierce through your veil as he gazed directly at you.

You instinctively took a step back in fear.

Bad move.

Noticing your retreat, Xion advanced towards you, making you back up until you finally neared the wall.

You gasped as you bumped into a vase placed beside the wall. Your hand shot towards the tall vase, grabbing it and stopping it from toppling over. It was heavy, having been filled with dirt to nurture the greenery planted within it. You gripped onto it hard, trying desperately to steady the wobbling vase.

Before you could even recover from the panic of almost breaking the royal family's belonging, Xion's hand slammed the wall beside him.

Bang!

You jumped, you feet accidentally kicking the vase. The vase slipped from your hands and came crashing down to the floor.

You winced as the vase shattered into pieces, the sound akin to a jab to your eardrums as you cringed. The dirt poured out and the plant laid on the floor, its roots exposed with the shards of the broken vase around it.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage, panic rising inside you. You held back the urge to curse as you swallowed, looking at the mess you created.

"Why were you staring at me, Messiah?" Your heart nearly jumped out from your chest when Xion whispered into your ear, his hot breath uncomfortably fanning it.

"..."

whatdoidowhatdoisaynonononononoidontwanttodiepleasegodsavemesomeonesavemezephyrcalerushelpidontwanttodieiwanttogohomeletmeleavedontkillmepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease

I don't want to die.

"Messiah-ilikeyoursuit." Xion raised an eyebrow at your mumbling.

"Pardon?" "I like your suit." You repeated, your gaze still cast downwards at the ground.

Xion knitted his eyebrows.

"What does that mean?" He sounded skeptical.

"..." You were quiet and Xion was about to press you again when you let out a string of sentences, bombarding him with information.

"I think it's nice. I like the design. I like the style. The colour matches you. It looks good on you. It makes you look cool. I'd like something similar for myself." You blurted out in rapid succession.

Your mind had gone into autopilot mode when the fear overwhelmed all your senses, making you spew out random nonsense. You wanted to kick yourself for saying something so dumb but to your surprise, it seemed to have worked in your favour.

"..." Xion stared at you incredulously, his mouth slightly agaped.

He suddenly backed away, his hand on the wall returning to his side as he narrowed his eyes at you. You stared back silently, your mind still recovering from the intense moment beforehand. You breathed shakily as you waited for him to make his next move.

"..."

"..."

None of you said anything.

It wasn't a hard conclusion to make that the prince of Ebreau was a man of few words. Ever since your meeting this morning, he had been quiet, silently observing and listening from the sidelines as you interacted with other people in the palace. Even when he did talk, it was only a few short sentences. He was reserved but never at a lost for words.

However, for once, he seemed speechless.

For once, you could garner something from his expression. He was thinking. So very clearly thinking. He was considering what course of action to take.

You prayed he would consider letting you off the hook.

The prince looked away briefly before meeting your eyes once more...

A small smirk spreading across his lips.

Blood drained from your face.

"You are...quite humourous, Messiah." Xion scoffed as he shook his head. "Unfortunately, this uniform was custom made for me and me only so you can't get one yourself." He explained coldly before turning away.

"I wish you a good afternoon, Messiah. I await your performance tonight." With a few short sentences, he was gone again, leaving you alone in the hallway with your thoughts and the thumping of your heart in your chest.

You watched as his silhouette got smaller and smaller down the hallway before finally disappearing. You clenched your fists by your side.

Xion...

Just what are you planning?

Another voice rang in you head alongside yours.

"Well done, lamb."

~✟~

You flopped down on the comfy bed, your legs hung over the edge as you sighed.

This was it. The ceremony was just another 2 hours or so away. The sun dipped below the horizon outside the window of the guest room, dying the evening sky orange. Your last practice session had gone well with you doing the entire dance while in full ceremonial attire.

Your hands reached up to rub your eyes before blinking multiple times in quick succession to get the exhaustion out of them. Looking through your veil put a lot of strain on your eyes. The pixelated world seen from within your veil made your eyes constantly work overtime just to ensure you could see everything around you and make correct judgements in situations. Times like these when you didn't have it on were a blessing for your eyes, like a long awaited and very overdued vacation from their job.

You turned your head towards the clothing rack beside the dresser. Your ceremonial robe hung neatly on a hanger and beside it, your new modified veil. The veil was made shorter in front, covering only until just above your lips and long in the back like usual. Golden brown tassels were sewn on at the ends of the veil, both front and back to add some weight to the fabric.

Zephyr really was a life saver. You're not sure how or where he managed to get a tailor to accept such a sudden commission but somehow he did and you're grateful he returned with a much more practical veil for dancing. It made the dance that much easier now that you weren't constantly struggling to just breathe.

You were escorted out of the ballroom at around 3 in the afternoon. The workers in the palace had to get the last bit of the decorations set up and preparations done before guests arrived so you needed to get out of there around then or else you'd risk making their job harder. It was about time you get some rest too before your big night so you complied without much thought.

And thus, you have been spending the past hour or so fretting over the ceremony tonight. This was a big deal and no matter how much preparation you've done, it just didn't feel enough.

Maybe your footwork could use some more polishing or maybe your arms needn't be so stiff or maybe you could smile a bit more or maybe-

"Ugghhhh!" You huffed out loud in frustration as your hands went to your face. This was so nerve-wrecking.

Can I just bail tonight? I'm sure Zephyr can help me come up with an excuse.

You looked towards the opened window, peeping through the gaps between your fingers. Perhaps you could jump out? The entrance gate is just across the palace garden. Wait, no. You're on the 3rd level. You'd die if you vaulted out of here.

A soft breeze blew through the window, fluttering the curtains as another idea popped into your head.

Maybe I could tie together the curtains to make a rope, do this the Hollywood way. Ah, but it won't be long enough... Oh, oh! Maybe I could use the bed sheets and carpet and-

Your grand escape plan was suddenly interrupted by a knocking on the door.

That must be the maid.

You got up from the bed. Marika had assigned a maid of hers to help with dressing you up for the ceremony tonight. Even if it was kinda redundant since you can dress yourself just fine and don't really need any make-up or hair styling (you were going to be wearing a veil so nobody would see it anyway), it wouldn't hurt to have someone do it for you while you did some final mental preparation for later.

Your hand reached for the door and pulled it open.

"Hello, Messiah."

The girl's silky voice greeted your ears as the top of her head came into view the moment you swung open the door. Her black bangs hung over her eyes and framed the side of her face, obscuring her face from your gaze.

"Hello. Please come in." You greeted back and gestured for her to come in. The maid rose to a standing position but continued to keep her head low as she stepped into the room, her hands gripping a brown bag in front of her, which you assumed to contain the make-up she'll use.

She walked towards the dressing table and placed the bag on the surface before standing aside, head still bowed as she stood in wait for you to sit down. You quickly shut the door and scurried over, taking a seat at the dressing table.

The maid reached into her bag before circling around to your back and began to comb your hair using a brush, getting all the knots out. After that, she took out a small bottle and sprayed some of the liquid inside onto her hand before rubbing it into your hair. The sweet fragrance wafted from behind you and into your nostrils.

Lavender.

You played with your fingers as you sat still, letting the maid do her work. No words were exchanged between the two of you. Out of boredom and perhaps some curiousity, you decided to start a conversation.

"What's your name by the way?" You looked at her reflection behind you in the mirror. She was looking down, focusing on your hair as she began styling it. Her hands worked diligently, twisting and tying your strands.

She paused, not expecting you to strike up a conversation.

"...I'm Erna."

She replied softly, her gaze still casted downwards.

Silence fell over you two again as the conversation ended as soon as it started.

"..."

"..."

She's so quiet.

You felt her continuing to do your hair, making no effort to carry on with the conversation. You sighed quietly as you hung your head, ultimately deciding to just keep to yourself and let her work in silence.

What's Zephyr doing right now...?

Your thought drifted to the saint as you tried to find something to ponder about. It's rare that he's not with you right now. Wherever you went, he always seemed to be by your side and ready to assist you in any way he can. In fact, it was weirder now without him around.

He will be attending tonight's ceremony too, right?

He probably will. Unless there's something he has to attend to in the background as the initiation proceeded, he'll watch...hopefully.

You really hope he does. You can't promise you'll do well during the dance. Heck, you can't even guarantee you won't collapse from the sheer stress. You needed him to save you if the worse came to pass, save you from the embarrassment and/or potential concussion.

Crap, I really don't want to do this...

You fidgeted nervously in your seat, rubbing your hands together as you suppressed the nausea bubbling inside. You took a deep breath.

In and out. In and out. In-

Your thoughts were cut short when you suddenly felt a breath hit your neck. Instinctively, you turned your head and you jumped in your seat at the foreign face in front of you.

Erna's green eyes stared into your golden ones, stoic and cold was her gaze as she breathed down your neck.

!!!

You wanted to ask what she was doing but before any words left your mouth, you saw the blood drain from Erna's face and she suddenly collapsed onto the floor, screaming hysterically.

"AAAHHHHHH! NO! NO!" Erna's voice pierced through the silence, her hands on her face, grasping at her eyes almost like trying to gauge them out.

"T-there's no way! It can't be! NO!" The girl continued to babbled on. She was shaking, her entire body convulsing beside you on the floor. You were in shock but it didn't take long before your body leapt into action on its own, jumping out of your seat and kneeling down on the floor beside the (you assumed) fear-striken girl.

"Erna, what's-I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY!" You reached for her shoulder, wanting to comfort her and understand what the heck was going on but before you even made contact, Erna pressed her head to the ground as she screamed out apologies. Her sobs were clear as she took pauses between her words, breathing heavily in before choking out her sentences once more. As it went on, her yelling began more and more incoherent and her words muddled until unintelligible.

"Erna...!" You tried to snap her out of it, raising your voice, hoping she would stop. However, to your dismay, it seemed to trigger her even more as her sobs quickly became desperate cries.

"I'M SORRY! PLEASE FORGIVE ME! I DIDNT KNOW! I WAS MISLED! PLEASE FORGIVE ME! IM SORRY! I WAS WRONG!" The girl screamed her heart out as she continued to cry. Her nails digging into the carpet below her, causing her knuckles to turn white.

Thump, thump, thump!

Footsteps echoed from outside the doors, coming down the corridor and getting closer to your room. The commotion in here must have caught someone's attention.

You continued to try and calm Erna down from this sudden mental breakdown but to no avail. Anything you do, no matter how big or small, it always seemed to have the opposite effect of what you wanted. Erna continued to cry out, her voice becoming hoarse and raspy from the strain she put on it.

"I'M SORRY! PLEASE! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY...CALERU-What's going on in here!?" A guard bursted through the doors. His eyebrows knitted and his arms tensed, ready to strike any perpetrator on sight.

"I-I don't know! She just suddenly started screaming!" You tried to explain despite also being in shock at the situation. The guard looked at the curled up Erna on the floor before at you. You braced yourself, knowing how bad this looked. Two people in one room, the only exit and entry points being a door leading to a corridor that is guarded and a window that is 3 stories up, the logical conclusion that everyone would jump to is pretty cut and dry.

However, you didn't hear any "Hands where I can see them!" or "Back away from the girl!" or any other aggressive commands from the guard. The moment you two locked eyes, the guard froze, his eyes going wide just how like Erna's did moments ago but instead of falling down and screaming his head off, he just stood at the doorway, one hand over his mouth as he stared incredulously at you.

Oh no, what now?!?

You panicked. The intense gaze of the guard that seemed to bore into your soul paired with ear piercing screams of Erna were overloading your senses. Your heart raced inside of your chest, the sheer absurdity of the situation was making you blank once more. What should you do? What could you do?

Sweat beaded down your forehead as you contemplated what to do.

I...I...?!

Your train of thought was suddenly cut short as you were pulled onto your feet abruptly. Hands tugged at your upper arms as they hoisted you up, even making you stumble in the process from the sheer speed and force. Before you even recovered, you felt a warmth embrace you as the hands wrapped around your body. One of the hands even pressing your head against the soft fabric of its owner's clothes.

"Are you alright, Lady (y/n)?"

!

You craned your head up as you heard the all too familiar voice. The concerned face of the kingdom's beloved saint stared down at you, his eyebrows knitted gently and his lips turned downwards into a small frown as he held you close.

Saved!

You cheered internally as you buried your head into Zephyr's chest. Your hands shakily reached up and wrapped around him, returning the embrace as your fingers gripped onto the back of his robes for solace. The scent of Zephyr's hair wafted into your nostrils, calming your mind and slowing your pounding heart.

"Sir, please take this maid to get help. I'll stay with the Messiah and help her get ready." Zephyr said to what you assumed to be the guard at the door.

"I..y-yes, of course, Saint Zephyr." Footsteps came into the room and you heard some shuffling before shortly after, the footsteps led out again. Erna's crying still rang clear in your ears but they grew softer and softer as the the sound of soles clacking against the ground got further and further away before finally...

Silence.

"..."

Zephyr sighed.

You felt his hand gently caressing your head as he whispered.

"Let's get you ready, Lady (y/n)."

You nodded slowly against his chest.

You felt safe.

Zephyr was here.

There was nothing to be afraid anymore.

~✟~

The chatter of hundreds of guests came from within the ballroom, their voices muffled by the closed wooden door before you as you stood in wait for your time to enter. Beyond the closed doors, you could hear the clinking of champagne glasses, the sound of joyous laughter and the beautiful pieces of music performed by the orchestra the palace had hired. It was lively inside with every guest present eagerly awaiting the main attraction of this evening's ball.

You took a deep breath and exhaled.

The time was nigh.

You cracked your neck and rolled your shoulders, getting the tension out and helping you relax before your big performance. This was no time for stiff bones after all. As if on cue, you heard Queen Marika's voice boomed from beyond the door and you immediately straightened your back.

"Welcome, children of Ebreau. It is a wonderful night this evening for we shall be witnessing a monumental moment in our kingdom's long history..." The Queen gave her speech but you toned it out midway through (Sorry, Marika.). You did one final recall as you reconfirmed all of your dance steps and positions for each of them.

This is it. This is it.

You felt like you were gonna pass out with all the blood rushing to your head from the anxiety of everything but you couldn't deny you felt a tinge of...happiness and pride. With this ceremony, you would be officially heralded as Ebreau's Messiah and be one of the people who would lead it. You're not sure if this strong feeling of love for this nation that you didn't even originate from, heck, this nation that you didn't even want to live in in the first place, was false or not but you knew for a fact that you wanted to help it. Maybe you were being brainwashed by Calerus to love Ebreau so you'll sacrifice yourself for it or maybe you've just developed a saviour complex after being treated as such, you're not entirely sure. You just know that you want to make Ebreau better. You want to make the lives of the folks here better. You want to help Zephyr. Especially after all he's done for you. He gave you his all and you will do the same,

You must do the same.

"Do not let thyself be shackled by deeds of the past, lamb."

!

No matter how many times this has happened, you don't think you could ever get used to Calerus suddenly speaking to you out of nowhere.

"Intentions determine the nature of a deed, not the action itself."

You knitted your eyebrows.

Where did that come from?

You weren't not sure why Calerus decided to randomly give you a life lesson before your initiation. You wanted to ask for his reasoning but you held back. Based on past experiences, you know he won't reply anyway so you just kept it in mind for now. You can ponder about it later.

"...now, let us celebrate the coming of our prophesied Messiah!"

"That was your cue, Messiah." A pair of hands suddenly fell on your shoulders as Marika concluded her speech. You jolted in surprise as you turned your head back and were met face to face with red eyes.

Xion?!

The prince towered over you as he stared down intensely at you, seemingly searching for your eyes behind the cover of your veil. His breath fanned your face as he continued.

"Good luck."

Xion stepped back, leaving you confused in place. Why was he here? Shouldn't he also be in the ballroom right now? And why was he...

Smiling?

A chill went down your spine at the sight of Xion's lips curling ever so slightly upwards.

You had so many question you wanted to ask but in a similar fashion, they went unvoiced and unheard for the moment you opened your mouth, the doors to the ballroom creaked open and...

A hand pushed you in from behind.

~✟~

You stood in front of Marika. She was seated in her throne beside the king's which was left unoccupied. She smiled early at you as she nodded, acknowledging your presence.

"..."

You reminded quiet. Talking wasn't part of your initiation procedure. The walk to the thrones from the ballroom's entrance was a long one, made longer by the scrutinising gaze and hushed whispers of judgement from the attending guests. From the way their gaze would flicker back and forth from you and how they tried to hide their mouth when they spoke, it wasn't hard to surmise what they were doing.

You tried to ignore them.

Just do your part.

You bowed your head and curtsied slowly, paying your respects ot the queen. Picking up the sides of your dress and bending your knees, you held that position as you waited for the music yo start and for your cue to begin your performance.

Here goes nothing.

The first notes of the piece. Slow and melancholy, the piano sounded out.

You rose from your curtsy, unhurried and measured. Your head remained bowed, looking down at the ground before tilting it slowly to the side and then back up, facing forward once more.

Violins. Questly weaving themselves into the melody, accompanying the lone piano.

You lifted your right arm to your chest before turning to face the guests, stretching out your lifted arm as you did so, letting it lead your movements.

You returned your arm back to to its place before again, you bent your knees and curtsied in the direction of the guests.

The duet of the piano and violins softly faded out as they held the last note of the bar.

You rose from your curtsy one last time, counting the resting beats in your heart.

...6...7...8.

8 resting beats and then you jumped into action. Literally.

You hopped in place before doing a chassé forward and into first arabesque. Closing your feet back together, you followed the tune of the flutes as it carried you through your pas de valse, your eyes following the movement of your hands just as Zephyr had instructed you during practice.

The harmony of the music accompanied you as you glided across the floor, spinning with control and grace. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears and blood rushed to your face, both from the dancing and nervousness. You tried your best to stay calm as you performed an assemblé before slowly rising from the plié.

The music swelled as it slowly began to reach its climax.

Just a little more...

Another spin before you swung your arms up from your sides to beside your head as you lifted your gaze up towards the ceiling. The crystal chandelier dazzled brightly in the air almost as if it was a star in the night sky. If you were outside right now, you would be looking at the sky, perhaps even into the eyes of The Prosperous Lord himself. Maybe that was the point of this move. To lock eyes with the god of this kingdom and swear eternal servitude to him. Who truly knows?

A slight slow in the music and you dropped into a deep curtsy, arms resting at your sides as your head bowed in unspoken submission. The last note rang, low and long as tension permeated through the ballroom.

"..."

You held your breath as you stayed in your position.

Did...I mess up?

You swallowed nervously as the silence in the room nearly deafened you.

Then, a clap came from behind you. Followed by another to your side and among the audience. Slowly, more guests followed along and it wasn't long before the ballroom erupted into a thunderous applause.

You physically felt all the tension leave your body as you breathed a sigh of relief before standing back up.

I did it...it's done. It's finally done!

You couldn't help the smile that made it's way onto your face. All of your hardwork paid off! It didn't go to waste! You...you did it!

You were still high on the glory when Marika interrupted your celebration. "That was a beautiful performance, Messiah." She smiled at you as you turned to face her. "Thank you for your hardwork and here's to a fruitful collaboration in the futur-"

You were suddenly pulled onto the ground.

"Ahh!!" You screamed as you collided with the floor-

Wait, no.

Someone's chest.

You slid across the floor with the person beneathe you, shielding you from impact. Gasps and shouts of terror came from the audience around you as the two of you finally came to a stop on the floor.

You looked back at your original position. An arrow was lodged into the ground. Its tip buried into the now broken floor.

What on earth...?

You furrowed your eyebrows as confusion washed over you.

Realisation came late but only because you refused to acknowleged the truth.

Someone wanted to assassinate you.

Your breath hitched in your throat. If this person didn't pull you aside...

That might have been it for you.

The person beneathe you shifted, slowly sitting up as they continue to hold you close.

You finally turned your gaze back to your saviour, wanting to thank them. However, the words got caught in your throat as you locked eyes with them and realised who it was.

Ocril?!

The person who saved you just now....was your ex-boss?????

He's the captain of the Ordo and likely the one who gave the green light to allow you to work as the Ordo's errand girl. The few years you've been there, you've rarely ever seen him, let allow talk to him. He was at the pinnacle of the hierarchy while you were at rock bottom. There were never any situations where your paths would have crossed.

Though from what you heard from the other guards, he's a rather quiet person, distant even but not cold. He'll never refuse to help someone in need even if he may seem a bit apathetic.

This information has always been word of mouth so you were never able to confirm nor deny it but looking at the black haired man in front of you now, you saw the protectiveness behind his blue eyes as he hid you behind his back.

His gaze narrowed as he glared at a slightly opened window high on the wall, a glint of rage swirling in his eyes.

"Are you alright, Messiah?"

Ocril asked, eyes still glued to the high window.

"I-yes. T-thank you for saving me." You replied, still flustered and shocked by the current situation.

The captain glanced back at you briefly before standing up, his hand on the hilt of his sword fastened to his side.

"Guards!" Queen Marika shouted, standing up from her throne before rushing over to you. At the same time, another familiar voice called for you from behind.

"Lady (y/n)!" You felt Zephyr's arms wrapped around you as he hugged you tightly. "Are you alright?" Zephyr asked frantically. He seemed out of breath, probably from running over due to the commotion started.

"I'm okay." You nodded, reassuring Zephyr as you pushed yourself back onto your feet. Queen Marika arrived too as she helped you up despite your protests.

You felt Ocril's gaze on you the whole time, glancing back at you silently. If he had something to say to you, he never did.

Your disorientation was short-lived as your attention was immediately drawn back by the terrified screams of the guests in the ballroom. To your horror, masked figures began jumping down from the windows, weapons in hand. Some held bows, others held daggers as they landed on the floor of the ballroom.

Chaos ensued immediately.

The guests made mad dashes towards the doors, all wanting to escape before things got bloody or worse, before their lives were targeted. Royal guards were quick to crowd around you and your little group, swords drawn and ready to defend three of the most important figures in Ebreau.

The intruders began their attack. The archers stayed at the back as they aimed to thin out the defense and divert the focus of the surrounding guards, hoping to give an opening to their allies who held daggers to go in for the kill.

Cling!

Ocril deflected an arrow coming towards him with his sword. More royal guards came into the ballroom as they joined in to fend off the attackers. Metal clashed together as the guards around you swung at the enclosing figures but was blocked by the attackers' own weapons. The sharp sound pierced your eardrums, making your ears ring uncomfortably.

Zephyr held you close. His hand grasping yours in a death grip, afraid you'll get separated from him. Queen Marika gritted her teeth and knitted her eyebrows beside you. Her usually soft features hardening as she watched the onslaughts, mind racing with how to resolve this situation.

The guests continued to flee, their shoes clanking loudly against the floor as they tried to escape. However, they were not spared the fury of the intruders. Some of the hooded figures went after them, dragging them back into the ballroom and hurting them as they refused cooperation. Royal guards came to the rescue but not before the attackers had already injured them, splattering their blood on the marble floor.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you held back a gag, terrified by the sight.

"Lady (y/n)!"

Zephyr yanked you back by the hand, just in time as a knife swung at you but missed by an inch. Your eyes widened as you narrowly escaped potential death (or potential disfigurement).

You didn't even get the chance to thank Zephyr for saving you when he, himself came under attack. One of the hooded figures had broken through the guards' defense and swung their dagger at Zephyr. Fast on his feet, Zephyr dodged the attack, sidestepping the figure before swiftly kicking them in the back of their knees, causing them to fall and drop their dagger. He kicked the dagger away before the figure had a chance to pick it back up.

!!

You couldn't help but be amazed. You didn't know Zephyr had moves like that.

The guards' defenses were strong but not impenetrable. Openings for a breakthrough were small and rare but the attackers took every opportunity. With enough tries, 2 of them managed to breach the line of guards and came towards you and Queen Marika.

They swung as you both dodged, though each with varying degree of ease. In a flash, Queen Marika's hand shot towards one of assailant's wrist, grabbing on tightly and stopping them from attacking before promptly disarming them with her other hand.

!!!

Did everyone here know self defense except for you?!??!

Another attacker broke through the defense and went for Zephyr. Left to your own devices, you raised your arms in front of you out of pure instinct as you desperately tried to protect yourself.

The hooded figure was relentless in their attack, swinging and slashing at you nonstop, leaving you with no choice but to keep backing away.

You felt something pierce the skin on your forearm before a sharp stinging pain began to spread from there.

You hissed in pain as your held your forearm, feeling warm blood oozing out of the cut and staining your sleeve. While you were distracted by the pain, the assailant took advantage of the moment and swung down at you.

You were running high on adrenaline, your instincts to survive going into overdrive mode as you grabbed their hand without even thinking, hoping to stop them from hurting you. Good news, it worked. Bad news, they retracted their hand before swinging again immediately and this time, you didn't have the chance to block.

Your attacker slashed upwards at your face. You tried to pull your head back from the blade but before you even knew what was happening, your veil had been slashed apart from the bottom near your lips up to your left eyebrow.

"Ah!"

You cried out in pain as your hands went to your face, feeling the same warmth and wetness from earlier dripping down your cheek and staining your fingers.

Blood.

You weren't sure where the wound was. Was it just around your eye or was your left eye now permanently messed up. You didn't know. The pain was agonising as you groaned and began to tear up from it.

This was messed up. Why was this happening?

What have you ever done to them to deserve this kind of treatment?

Who even were these people?

Why you?

Why the guests?

Why did they hurt everyone?

The figure raised their dagger high, aiming the point at your head.

"DIE!"

They plunged the dagger down to deal the final blow.

"!!!"

The dagger stopped in midair as the attacker froze.

You glared at the figure through the gaps between your fingers, teeth gritted and eyebrows knitted. Your blood dripped from your hand as you slowly staggered towards them.

You weren't thinking clearly. Your rationality having completely been thrown out the window as your emotions took over. A lump formed in your throat as you stifled the urge to scream and lash out. Your hands were shaking but not from fear.

You shook from pure, unadulterated rage.

These uninvited intruders dared to barge in and ruin your initiation that you prepared months for before proceeding to attack anyone and everyone on sight, not even sparing the innocent guests.

Perhaps if it had been just you who was targeted, you wouldn't have been so furious.

Perhaps you would have understood where they were coming from if no one else was hurted.

Perhaps you-

No.

Perhaps these people don't deserve your mercy.

Whatever grudge they had with you, however deep their hatred for you ran, it was no accuse to come for your neck. It was no accuse to jump the peace talks and resort to violence. It was no accuse to hurt others, innocent or not.

There was no accuse.

You raised your hand, curling your fingers into a fist.

I will cleanse this nation of its filth until only the beautiful remains. And until the garden of Eden appears once more, I will not stop, for the foundation of this paradise...

You swung your fist.

"Will be the blood of your kind."

You punched the figure in the face.

"Ack!"

You heard the figure gasped before falling to the ground.

"..."

Your senses came back to you as the rush of adrenaline passed. You backed away quickly, putting as much distance between you two as fast as you can before they can recover and attack again.

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as you saw the figure pushed themselves onto their knees, one hand holding their face.

Suddenly, an arm appeared before you. You looked up and saw...Ocril. He shielded you behind him as he watched the figure scrambling on the ground in front of you, sword at the ready to defend you in his other hand should the figure attack again.

However, that seemed unnecessary.

The figure pressed their head to the ground as they started screaming.

"FORGIVE ME! I'M SORRY! PLEASE HAVE MERCY! HAVE MERCY!"

Everyone stopped and looked at the figure on the ground, including the other intruders. The figure continued to scream and you could hear the start of a nervous breakdown in their voice.

"I DIDNT KNOW! I WAS FOOLISH! FORGIVE ME! FORGIVE ME! MY LORD, PLEASE HAVE MERCY!"

Everyone stared on dumbfounded. The other intruders being especially confused by their ally's behaviour.

Another one of the hooded figures broke through the defenses of the guards and came to their ally's side.

You couldn't hear what they whispered to the other but you doubt they said much as they were immediately pushed to the ground by their ally.

The figure continued screaming and this time, you could tell they were crying.

"CALERUS, WE'RE SORRY FOR DOUBTING YOUR WILL! HAVE MERCY ON US! I BEG OF YOU! WE'RE SORRY!! HAVE MERCY!"

The figure's companion looked at them quizzically.

The stalemate between the guards and intruders was quickly broken soon after when a group of guards tackled some distracted figures and pinned them to the ground. The fight resumed but this time, the intruders seemed to be backing off.

The two figures in front of you scrambled to their feet(well, more like one of them dragged the other onto their feet) as they tried to fight their way out this time around. Ocril gave chase, leaving you in your place after a brief glance back at you to make sure you're alright.

Immediately after Ocril left, Zephyr rushed back to your side.

"(Y/N)!"

He hugged you tightly before noticing the blood on your face and gasping in horror.

"You're hurt! And what happened to your veil?!" Zephyr asked frantically as he held your face in his hands. He wiped some of the blood off your face with his fingers as he began to apologise profusely, "I'm sorry i didn't protect you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

As cold as this may seem, you couldn't help but wonder what was up with people apologising over and over again to you today. Zephyr was already the third one within the last 24 hours.

Looking up at him, you noticed tears beginning to form in his eyes. In a daze, you reached up and wiped his tears away with your sleeve. "You tried your best. I understand, Zephyr." you mumbled softly to him.

That seemed to have the opposite effect on Zephyr as more tears welled up in his eyes. He pulled you close and clung to you tightly, wrapping his arms around you as he silently cried. You felt his tears wetting your shoulder as he buried his face there.

You returned his hug and patted his back as you waited for him to calm down.

Zephyr must have been worried sick about you...

After a while, Zephyr reluctantly pulled away, breaking the hug. However, he still clung to your hand as he began to recompose himself.

The ballroom was a mess.

Although the intruders had already either fled or been captured, damage had still been done. Some unlucky guests who were targeted by the figures sat to the side of the ballroom as guards tended to their wounds, their sobs loud enough to be heard from the other side of the room. The floor was splattered with blood, belonging to both attacking intruders and defending guards alike. Swords and arrows laid scattered and broken on the ground, a stark reminder of what just transpired.

"..."

You couldn't believe this had happened.

"(Y/n)."

You weren't given much time to wallow in despair at the devastating events that just happened. Queen Marika snapped you out of your thoughts as she approached you. You noticed a small cut on her upper arm but besides from that, she seemed unscathed. "Marika, are you alright?" You nevertheless asked out of formality.

The queen nodded before replying, "Yes. Thank you for asking especially when you seem to be in a worse state than me." She gave you a worried look, "I'll call for the royal physician to look at your wound. Hopefully it's nothing too serious..."

You nodded and thanked her for it. Before you were escorted away to have your injury checked and treated, Queen Marika began speaking again. "(Y/n), I know it's been a long night but...I must request that you extend your stay just a bit longer." You cocked your head to one side at her words. You thought you would be going back to the temple after this.

"May i know why?" you expressed your confusion.

Queen Marika sighed deeply as she looked down momentarily. "The situation...may be worse than I thought. I don't wish to push this burden onto you so soon but..." She trailed off.

"We must bring forward our meeting."

~✟~

I. Am. So. Sorry. This was supposed to go up months ago but life got busy and i got stuck at the final ballroom scene T-T Im sorry to everyone who waited so long for this chapter!!! but at least, this chapter is extra long compared to the previous ones so hopefully it will be enough satiate the hunger and quell the anger ^^;(jk) Glad i finally got it done though. been feeling really guilty about postponing this chapter for so long.

Thank you for reading and please tell me if you find any errors so i can correct them!

~

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Let me know if I missed anyone!

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡tasty confessions 🥮

you've ordered: a vanilla gingerbread tart! enjoy!

"this is falling, falling in love"

leona kingscholar x reader | word count: 1,418 words

summary: holiday confession gone wrong...and right? 🥮

warnings: none!

note: i don't celebrate christmas, so in the fic, i didn't specify the holiday (used "holiday season" instead)

"trey, a little help here?" you yelled, attempting to carry two trays of tart shells out of the oven.

"ah, coming! you've gotta be careful, y/n." the green haired boy reminded you, rushing over and taking one of the trays.

the cozy holiday season had settled upon night raven college rather nicely. decorations were put up and plans for celebration were in full swing. and you intended to make this one extra special.

you'd decided to bake tarts for your friends in the various dorms and even a few for the night raven staff. as you filled the shells with various creams and custards, trey helped you out, offering up his baking expertise when you were caught in the weeds about how to do this.

as you now cut up various fruits and other sweets for decoration, the door to the kitchen opened and in walked cater, holding grim in his arms.

"i couldn't get him to stop. he somehow smelled your tarts from down the hall." cater said, seeming like he'd put in a lot of effort in trying to stop the cat-like creature.

"hey, you better save some for me, henchman!" grim exclaimed, hopping out of cater's arms and onto the counter.

"don't worry grim. after i'm done, i'll make you all the tuna tarts you want." you smiled, scratching under his chin.

"hey y/n, why are these tarts different than all the others?" cater questioned, pointing to a small batch of tarts that were obviously different from the others.

your cheeks colored a bit upon being questioned, your hand almost dropping the spoon you held.

"those are...for leona." you admitted, cater letting out an excited "ooh!"

it was no secret that you had a crush on leona. the lion beastman had caught your attention the first day you'd arrived. you used to think he was lazy and rude, but after being around him for a while, your outlook changed. and so did your feelings.

"i plan on writing a note to him in which i confess my feelings and...putting in in his tart bag..." you murmured, your cheeks warming up in embarrassment.

"confessing to him with tarts? how cute." trey quipped, placing a tray of finished tarts into the fridge to chill.

"yeah, i just hope it goes well..."

"oh trust me, i'm sure he likes you too. leona isn't keen on putting up with people just like that." cater said, swiping a bit of cream onto his finger and tasting it.

"cater!" you scolded, rushing to grab grim before he dunked his whole head in the bowl.

"alright, alright! enough fun. i've gotta get back to baking." you playfully grumbled, shooing them out.

a day had passed since you cooked up your delicious sweet treats. each person had 5 tarts, all in a clear bag with a colored ribbon on top. you went around to each dorm handing out the tasty tarts and to your surprise, everyone loved them!

you finally stopped in front of your final destination: the savanaclaw dorms. you clutched the basket in your hands, glancing down at it to do one last check. one for ruggie, one for jack, and obviously one for....?! you then realized you were short one bag...and it was the most important bag of all. just where was leona's bag??

in haste, you quickly scrambled back over to heartslabyul, ignoring a nagging riddle as you barged into the kitchen. you looked everywhere, every nook and cranny. absolutely nothing.

you grabbed your phone, calling trey.

"hey trey. have you seen the tarts i made for...you know who?" you asked, praying that he knew something.

"no, sorry y/n. the last i saw of them was when i left last night, and they were still in your basket. did something happen?" he asked, seeming concerned.

"uh, you know what? don't worry about it. thanks trey." you said before hanging up.

it wasn't like the tarts had grown legs and ran away! you didn't have time for this. and you definitely didn't have the time to make new tarts. you asked across the dorms (except savanaclaw) if they'd seen the tarts, to which everyone responded no. what were you going to do?

as you paced around the hallway, someone called out your name. turning, you were met by ruggie, a member of savanaclaw. upon seeing your panic, ruggie made his way over to you, tail flicking.

"y/n, what's wrong? you look more stressed than leona when he can't get his favorite sandwich." he asked.

you let out a sigh of defeat, leaning against the wall. "i made tarts for everyone to celebrate the holidays. i also made...special tarts for leona. i was going to tell him how i feel today, but...i can't find his damn tarts!" you groaned.

"well, what did they look like?" ruggie asked.

"they were in a clear bag like everyone else's. but his had a yellow and black ribbon on it, whereas the ones for you and jack were just yellow." you could already see the guilt on ruggie's face.

"spit it out."

"i may or may not have found said package of tarts...and given them to leona-" ruggie mumbled, visibly sweat-dropping.

your mouth fell open in horror as you realized the situation you were in. leona...had already gotten your tarts!

"ruggie, where is leona right now?" you asked urgently, shoving the basket into his arms.

"oof! uhhh...i think he's in the botanical garden. that's where i gave it to him."

you made a mad dash down the hall, bursting into the garden. your eyes frantically looked around, spotting a tail in the corner of your eye.

when you got closer, your stomach dropped as you saw leona, already breaking into the sweet treats.

"need something, herbivore?" the beastman asked, his tail flicking.

you swallowed, taking a breath before walking over and snatching up the note.

"you didn't read this, right?" you asked, leona smirking as he licked cream off of the corner of his lips.

"and what if i did?" he challenged, your heart dropping.

"h-how much did you-?" "all of it."

the note fell from your hands, your heart aching as you looked leona in the eyes. damn...this was embarrassing.

as you tried to keep yourself from panicking, you stepped closer to him, kneeling down to his level. "so...how do you feel about what you read?"

leona let out a soft "hm", as if he were thinking of the perfect response. "come a little closer." he said.

you shuffled a bit closer to him, mumbling a soft "yeah?" as you did. the lion man just smirked, beckoning you closer.

"come on herbivore, get closer. just a little. and close your eyes."

you moved closer till you were practically touching noses with leona, your eyes fluttering shut. you felt like your heart would leap out of your chest at any given moment.

thwack! you pulled back, your eyes opening in surprise. leona had just flicked you in the forehead!

"what the hell, leona?" you exclaimed, your hand flying up to caress the spot he'd flicked.

"you really are dense." "what-"

leona leaned in a bit closer this time, his breath tickling your cheek. "you think i ate your tarts out of pity? if i didn't want 'em, i could've easily given 'em away. seems i've taken...a liking to you, herbivore."

you froze right there, on the spot. you couldn't believe what you were hearing. THE leona kingscholar just confessed to YOU. you didn't have time to think before leona captured your chin between his thumb and index finger, his emerald green eyes locking with yours.

"hm, you still don't seem very convinced." before you could even think...leona's lips were on yours.

the kiss was soft and warm and made you feel all fuzzy inside. you slowly eased into it, your hands coming up to cup his face as a warmth flowed through your body.

when it was over, you nodded your head, a slight flush on your cheeks. "yeah...i get it now..."

leona let out an amused chuckle, pulling you down to lay with him, a soft yelp leaving you.

"don't you usually sleep alone?" you mumbled, your face warming up.

"you owe me. all your tarts made me sleepy. your punishment is to lay with me and not move a muscle."

you laughed a little, reaching up to tuck a bit of hair behind his ear. "should be easy enough."

and just like that, your holiday was one to remember.🥮

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Secret Santa

I did this last Christmas as well, but this one will be different, as I'm once again using a randomizer to choose characters. For the record, I didn't fix the results except to omit anyone who appeared in last year's list and to nix any repeats in this one. Let's see what gifts they choose!

Thanks to @imtheseventh for requesting that I do this again! :)

1. Marsh gives Spook...a book

Spook: Oh, thank you, but I think Kelsier already got me this book? Marsh: Look more closely. Spook: [holds up two books side by side] Spook: See? Kelsier got me Hemalurgy for Dummies and you got me...oh. Hemalurgy Not For Dummies. Marsh: [taps eye spike knowingly]

2. Spook gives Fort...a coupon

Fort: "Fifty percent off women's slippers"? Spook: I heard you like deals--that was the best one I found! Fort: [pats him on the shoulder] Every bargain hunter has to start somewhere...

3. Fort gives Allrianne...a bracelet

Allrianne: Wow! It's actually pretty nice--thank you! Fort: You're so welcome! Fort: After a lot of hard work, I got it basically for free! Allrianne: You...didn't spend any money on it? Fort: Practically none! You're welcome! Allrianne: ... Fort: What?

4. Allrianne gives Raboniel...a pink dressing gown

Allrianne: What I see when I look at you is a woman who needs to relax and feel beautiful. Raboniel: [carefully examining the robe] Raboniel: No safehand sleeve, I see. Raboniel: Are you trying to seduce me? Allriane: EXCUSE me?! Raboniel: Listen, I get that from human woman more than you'd think..

5. Raboniel gives Elegy...a book of Sudoku puzzles

Elegy: ...I don't understand. Raboniel: I can see that you're trying to fight off the insanity that threatens to consume you. Raboniel: I know...something about that. Raboniel: It is helpful to keep the mind focused, occupied. Elegy: ...with number puzzles? Raboniel: Well, it's either that or going into weapon manufacturing, but Navani gave me a dirty look when I tried to buy you a bomb kit.

6. Elegy gives Marasi...a book

Elegy: My people do not have much, but I collected a book of our native stories for you. Elegy: Since your people seem to want to know about us so badly. Marasi: ...I don't know what that last part means, but thank you! Marasi: Aww, it's a book of stores for kids? How cute! Marasi: ... Marasi: Do they ALL end with children being consumed by ghosts? Elegy: Shades. And yes. Marasi: Thanks anyway? Elegy: What do you mean "anyway"?

7. Marasi gives Vin...a nice pen

Marasi: I-I mean, what do you give the woman who has everything?? Marasi: You did EVERYTHING in your life and set the bar so amazingly high with all of your powerful exploits! Marasi: S-Seriously I couldn't even FATHOM what do get the Ascendent Warrior for Christmas! Marasi: A-Anyway, since you have that nice pen anyway, I-I thought maybe you could sign something for me... Vin: ... Vin: What exactly happens in the future?

8. Vin gives Syl...the design for a mistcloak

Vin: You're sort of wind, right? Vin: Back home, the mists loved to play with the tassels on my mistcloak. I thought wind might be similar. Syl: [has already changed her form so that she appears to be wearing a mistcloak] Syl: Why do I feel so unbelievably cool?? Vin: It has that effect.

9. Syl gives Nale...coal

Nale: ...Are you telling me that I should build a nice fire and relax? Syl (arms crossed, glaring at Nale): I'm telling you that trying to KILL children means you get COAL Nale: The child in question gave me a hug when she confronted me. Syl: Yeah, well, I'm an Honorspren, not an Edgedancer.

10. Nale gives Denth...jail

Denth: ... Denth: It is literally Christmas. Nale: The law cares not for holidays.

11. Denth gives Charlie...a cat plushie

Charlie: [eying the cat plushie nervously] Charlie: Y-You're a bit of a bastard, huh? Denth: I don't know what you're talking about.

12. Charlie gives Marsh...a really nice bottle of rum

Marsh: This looks...expensive. Charlie: W-Well, you know. Charlie: When you draw the literal personification of death out of a hat for Secret Santa, you, uh...don't blow it off. Marsh: ... Marsh: I'm actually quite pleased.

[activesplooger]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ | ᴠᴏx x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴀᴜ | ʜᴀᴢʙɪɴ ʜᴏᴛᴇʟ

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: (MDNI) FUCKING FINALLY THIS SHITS DONE I CAN REST. also there's a scene in this directed towards false healings performed and idk if it seems cringe believe me i know but that shit actually goes on so I thought i should include it

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You're a woman in the 1950s who's aspiring to be a journalist. However, it's hard to enter the workforce as a woman. Your boss presents you with the opportunity of a lifetime to do an undercover expose on a cult in your area! However, as you dive deeper into the church you get more than you bargained for.

ᴄᴡ: religious themes, cults, sexism, manipulation, false "healings", mental breakdown, drugging, dubious consent, penetration, nsfw, and barf

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10,256 (sorry)

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1/2

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴘᴏꜱᴛ!

So the situation's this, it's 1955, and you're trying to make a name for yourself in the journalism industry. You currently work for the New York Times... as a secretary. Though you offer the same— if not better— credentials as the men who write "hard-hitting pieces", you were overlooked, as many women are in the workforce.

Why have you working when you can be a pretty face for everyone to see? It's bullshit, really. However, you were in no position to complain about where your income comes from, so you took the job. Something's gotta pay the rent, even if it killed you to watch everyone doing your dream job. That's supposed to be you working at your passion, not the under-qualified men who make more effort in hitting on you than on their writing.

You're currently perched on your chair, chin in hand, as you stare blankly at the rotary phone, waiting for it to ring. Your bored expression seemed to say "Come over and condescend me!", or at least that's what one douche seemed to think.

A cocky co-worker strides over to your desk, clad in a tacky blue suit and a coffee-stained tie. He stands in front of your desk and chuckles, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Chip a nail?". Taking a deep breath, you restrain yourself from kicking him in the balls (if he even had any), "Just waiting for the phone to ring.". The man rests his elbows on your desk, "C'mon, where's that smile? You'd be so much prettier with one.". You bite the inside of your cheek, restraining your instinct of telling this guy off. Instead, you plaster on a strained smile. "There she is!" he chuckles, walking off to his desk.

As soon as he's out of sight, your smile drops instantly. "Stupid piece of fucking shit... hope he chokes on a fucking cock," you mutter to yourself, letting your anger simmer as you bounce your leg agitatedly.

The whole situation mulls over in your head, how could you allow your life to come to this? Reduced to your gender, working at a job where you're nothing but a pretty face... You wish things were different, but what could you do? Your eyes flicker to the head editor's office door that's practically calling your name.

You know that you're destined for more. What's the worst that could happen if you just ask? So what if they fire you? There are plenty of other secretary positions open anyway. Hesitantly, you get up from your chair and march over to the editor's office, knocking on the door with a shaky hand, "Mr. Anderson, sir?". "Come in," the familiar raspy voice responds.

Straightening out your skirt, you push the door open and smile. "Kitten," he exclaims, "what brings a pretty face like you in here? Dont'cha have phones to attend to?". You shake your head, "No, the line's empty as of now, I actually wanted to talk to you about-". "Talk talk talk, that's all you women do," he states, "that and drain men's wallets!". Mr. Anderson cackles, leaning back in his chair as he laughs himself to tears. "Hah... yeah... funny," you say flatly. "Oh, c'mon, it's just a joke, you women are so sensitive," his laughter dies down, "now, what'd you need to talk about?".

Taking a deep breath, you steal yourself for the moment ahead, this was your chance. Don't blow it. "Well," you begin, "remember when I interviewed here? I originally wanted to work here as a journalist.". The old man nods, leaning forward on his desk and giving you an intimidating look as he stares you dead in the eyes. You swallow nervously, "Y-Yes, well, I wanted to follow up on that.". "On what?". "On my position here at the company as a journalist, not a secretary," you state firmly, standing up straighter as you try not to let his intimidating stare get to you. Mr. Anderson sighs and leans back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, "I don't understand, you're a fine secretary.". "I know," you defend, "but I wanna be more, I know I can be more than this! I went to college and was one the only woman to get accepted into the journalism program!".

Sighing softly, you plead with him, hoping he'll show a shred of humanity, "I can do this, I just need the opportunity.". He groans, "You're a pain in my ass sometimes.". "But," he reaches into a filing cabinet and hands you a file labeled "THE SIGNAL DOMINION", "you're very persistent, and annoyin', so here.". You grab the file, and your face lights up, "Thank you so much, sir! You won't regret this!". "I better not," he says while lighting a cigar. "I want you to write an exposé on a cult run by a man named Vincent Oren Xavier, are you familiar with him?". You shake your head no. "Doesn't matter," he dismisses. "Everything you need to know is in that file. Now I'll need you to go undercover for this, pretend your some type of damsel in distress that's looking for a new church or some crap, I dunno," he huffs out a puff of smoke, causing you to cough and waft the air in front of you.

"Don't be gettin' all high and mighty because I gave ya this piece though," he states while waving his cigar, "I've only given ya this to shut yer trap, got it?". "Yes, sir" you nod, "thank you.". Walking out, you close the door softly behind you and skip happily to your desk. You set the file on your lap, squealing happily as you read the contents.

The gist was that some guy got people to join his cult by luring them in with charms and keeping them there through manipulation. Their leader, Vincent, managed to escape the crimes for his obvious exploitation through some dumb loopholes in the law; what a great country we live in.

After work, you head home and plop onto your bed with a pen and paper, jotting down your plan for the exposé. Your cover would be that of a widow who had just recently lost her husband who's looking to a higher power after such a great loss. You figured you could still be a secretary; just don't mention that it's for the New York Times, that'd definitely blow your cover. For the entire night, you work on your plan, devising every piece of your fake identity to the T.

The morning light shines through your windows, causing you to stir. You lift your head off the notebook you had been jotting on all night and stretch your arms over your head. A smile stretches across your face, today is the start of your new career. Springing out of bed, you rummage in your drawers for the perfect outfit: a dark navy sheath dress that landed just below your knee and black babydoll heels. You styled your hair into classy victory rolls and smudged your makeup around your eyes just a tad to portray the look that you had been crying. After all, you'd just "lost your husband". Who wouldn't be crying?

__

Following the directions in the file led you to the parking lot of a church. In big, bold letters were the words "The Signal Dominion Church of Christ" plastered on the front of the building. The top of the building held a cross and "Christ" was plastered in the name, so you assumed it was based on Christianity in one form or another. You were never really a religious person. However, you did have some background knowledge about it from being dragged to Sunday mass as a child.

Once you walk in, you seem to have caught the end of the service. The large church was littered with people, every seat was filled with some people having to stand. You observe in the back, the whole thing seems so intimidating and bizarre. The service ended with worship, and various repeated phrases stick out to you like "Trust him", only the "him" didn't seem to talk about a God, but rather Vincent. "Trust Vincent" seemed to be a common theme throughout the sermon.

The whole thing sent a shiver through your spine, a bad feeling settling in your stomach. Once the service ends, a lady with a beaming smile approaches you, "Hi!". "Oh hi," you respond softly. "I don't think I've seen you around. Are you new here?" she asks, her smile never faltering even for a second.

"Oh yes, I just wanted to peak in, sorry," you reply shakily. You really hoped she bought your act. The woman chuckles and waves a dismissive hand, "No problem! What brings you here?". "Well, I recently lost my husband from a car accident," you begin, mustering up a few fake tears that reluctantly roll down your cheek, "and it's just been really taxing on me. I've been perusing local churches to hopefully lift that weight off me, and that's how I stumbled here I guess.". "You poor thing," the woman puts a hand over her heart, "I'm sorry to hear that. My name's Evangeline, I'm an elder here at the church.".

"Nice to meet you," you shake her hand gently, "I'm Y/n.". She takes your other hand in hers and holds them softly, confusion crossing your features as she does so, "Well, Y/N, I want to pray for you.". "Oh! Alright, sure"

She prays over you and your situation, ending it with "Amen" and releasing your hands. She looks you softly in the eyes, "How would you like to come to our service next week? I'll save you a seat myself!". "Really? That's so kind, thank you, I'd be happy to" you smile back at her.

You say your goodbyes and head back to your place, taking in what you had learned. Service starts at 8am sharp, and you knew nothing about Vincent.

When you get home, you kick off your heels and sit on your couch with a sigh. You'd barely learnt anything and you couldn't really go undercover for another week.

__

You arrive at work a few hours later, knocking on the editors office before coming in. "What's the scoop?" he asks in his usual hoarse voice. "Well, I didn't learn too much... Seems to be based on trusting the cult leader, and the people seem nice-" you reveal, hoping that he wouldn't blame your lack of evidence on your gender.

Mr. Anderson sighs, "Look, Kitten, since it's your first time doing something like this I'm not gonna yell at'cha. But listen up, if you wanna go undercover, you've gotta be a little persistent. Do a bit of digging rather than sittin' on yer ass and waiting for the oppurtunity to present itself!". "Im sorry, but-".

"No "buts"," he interrupts, "now get back to your desk and work. "Oh about that, do I have a different desk now or?" you ask. "Kitten, this project stays between you and I. Any writin' gets done on your own time. You're still a secretary after all; However, if you do good on this assignment I'll consider hirin' you full time," he explains. You nod and thank him for his time before exiting, walking back to your secretary's desk disheartened.

You slump in your chair with a sigh, eyes fixed on your lap. The cocky coworker from yesterday strides up to your desk, "Hey! Where's that sm-". Snapping your head up, you interrupt him with a glare, "Ask about my smile one more time I swear to God.". He scoffs at you and walks off muttering, "Sheesh, is it that time of the month?". You drag a hand down your face and sign.

__

The next week slowly rolls by, filled with monotonous work and vague research you found from other news articles and stories. But today, maybe you could finally get somewhere.

You put on your Sunday best, a blue pinstripe dress paired with tan stockings and short white pump heels. With the help of curlers and a ton of gel, you fashion your hair into cute pin up curls that framed your face just right.

Once you finish prettying yourself up, you grab your keys and head out of your apartment.

__

You arrive at church early today, making sure you get a good seat for today's service. As you walk in, you see the room already bustling with people eager to get a seat. In the corner of your eyes, you see Evangeline waving her arms and patting the seat beside her. Upon walking up to her, she greets you with a big hug, eliciting an "oomph" from you at the sudden embrace. "I'm so happy you came!" she squeals excitedly. "Yeah, of course, thanks for saving me a spot," you reply. She lets go and leads you to your seats.

As you sit down, she turns to you with a grin, "Today's supposed to be a great message!". "Oh yeah?" you say, turning to her, "what's it about?". "Letting go of your earthly bonds and submitting to Him!". Your eyebrow raises, "Him?" Who's-". She cuts you off by pointing up towards the sky. "Ah, you meant God, right sorry," you reply with a slight chuckle.

"Oh, I almost forgot to mention, Father Vox won't be preaching today, unfortunately," she mentions with a slight frown. 'Vox?' you think to yourself, you hadn't heard any mention of a Vox before. You thought Vincent was the head honcho here, wouldn't the cult leader usually preach? "Who's Vox?" you ask quietly.

"Oh! He's the best," she gushes, "he's the head preacher around here. He opened my eyes to the lies I was once forced to concede to.". Tilting your head, you furrow your eyebrows and speak in a confused tone, "The lies?". Evangeline nods, "Yup, he taught me the meaning of life. If it weren't for him, I would still be in contact with my oppressors!". "Your... oppressors?". "Mhm," she affirms, "my so-called family and friends all held me back from my true purpose.". A chill went down your spine. Your look of horror is met with Evangeline's placid expression, how could she be so calm? Doesn't she know she's being manipulated? "I'm sorry, what-" you're cut off by Evangeline shushing you. "It's starting!" she says with a wide grin.

Three altar servers walk down the aisle holding large candles, one wafting incense across the pews. Following behind them is a man dressed in white vestments. The sacred white robes feature intricate gold patterns sewn into the stole that loosely drapes over the priest's shoulders.

Once the priest approaches the altar. He lifts his arms up in the air and everyone stands up from their seat. You follow suit and stand up a bit delayed from everyone else. The altar servers set down the candles and sit on a wooden bench behind the altar. Looking up from the large bible on the podium, the mass commences, "The lord be with you.". "And with your spirit," the room responds simultaneously. You try to keep up with all the sayings, constantly falling behind at all the responsorials and prayers. Shit, you really wished you paid attention in mass when you were younger.

After countless prayers and songs, you're finally allowed to sit. The priest smiles and crosses his heart, "Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. Amen.". The members mutter an "amen" in response.

The priest walks in front of the aisle and claps his hands together with a big smile, "How are we doing, everyone? As you can tell, Father Vox couldn't join us today, he's taking a day to be reverent with God. I'll be stepping in his place for today, some of you may know me as John, but today I'll be known as Father John.".

Father John starts off the homily with a routine message, love God and all that crap, it's the end of the sermon that seemed to rub you the wrong way. The priest paces down the pews, each step impassioned as he preaches, "And therefore I ask you, the people of the signal dominion, to follow your shepherd. Let him guide you in a guide-less world full of corruption and sin.".

Once again, the "him" mentioned seemed almost sinister. It didn't feel like they were talking about God, but perhaps Vincent- or maybe that Vox that Evangeline was talking about. As your mind races, the priest starts to shout, "Has he not done enough for us?!". "No!" the congregation calls out, some people clapping and cheering. "So then, why do we run astray? Why do we avoid his divine enlightenment?! Look at all he's done for us, he saved you from suffering!".

You look around at the people in the pews, eyes fixed in admiration at the speaker, not even a hint of skepticism on their expression. How did they not question what was happening to them?! A pit grows in your stomach, almost feeling angry at these people.

Father John stops yelling and makes his way back to the pew. Lifting his arms up, the people stand. "Let us pray," he calmly commands, his tone a stark contrast to his frustrated yell. He leads the church in a penitential prayer, which, again, you didn't know. The people recite, "Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.". Each "fault" is punctuated with a fist banged against one's chest. The practice, though not inherently sinister, leaves you feeling tense and guilty; the pit in your stomach starts to grow.

"I'd now like to call upon the Elders of the church to come forward and offer prayer to those who need it," people emerge from the pews and walk to the front of the church. Evangeline turns to you, "I'll be up there if you need me.".

Without Evangeline, you didn't have an in with the church. You felt out of place, not sure what to do as people pass you by to receive prayer. Taking a breath, you calm down and mutter quietly to yourself, "Be persistent, y/n.".

You walk out of your row and walk up to Evangeline, her ever-present bright smile plastered on her face. She takes your hands in hers, "I'm so glad you're here. What would you like to talk about.". "Well," you begin, racking your mind for what to say when suddenly, an idea pops up, "I was really hoping to be saved- like you were! By that guy you were talking about-". Evangeline tilts her head, "You mean Father Vox?". You nod, eliciting a thoughtful look on her face. "He is taking time to be with God today... but, m-maybe if I told him your testimony he would meet with you!". "You think so?" you ask hopefully, excitement filling the pit in your stomach. This could be your chance.

Evangeline nods frantically and takes both your hands in hers, "Let us pray. Dear God,-".

__

After the sermon, Evangeline led you upstairs to a sector of the church where only church officials and clergy were allowed. She approaches a door labeled "Father Vox" in big gold letters. "Wait here," she gestures towards a chair beside the door. Evangeline knocks on the door. "Come in," a deep voice responds.

The door clicks shut, leaving you alone in the creepy church corridor. You can hear the faint sound of an organ playing a hymn from downstairs, along with the ticking of the grandfather clock beside you. The room is cold, freezing almost- creating a tense atmosphere in the supposedly "welcoming church".

You fixate your gaze on your lap, tapping your feet incessantly on the group as you wait. Time passes slowly as you wait, focusing on fidgeting with your hands to occupy yourself.

Finally, the door swings open and Evangeline walks out. She holds the door open for you with a soft smile, "Father Vox would like to see you.". "O-oh! Great!" you get up from your seat and nod at her while walking in.

__

Seated at the desk is a handsome man with black hair and separate eye colors; one eye color being blue and the other being brown. A white scar streaks down across his blue eye going from his eyebrow to his cheekbone. He's dressed in navy blue vestments with red patterns sewn into the stole, similar to the patterns on Father John's.

You take a seat across from him, a tight-lipped grin stretching across your face to match his charming smile. On his desk are books labeled "T.S.D Bible," along with other religious paraphernalia. Perched front and center in a name placard displaying the words, "Father Vincent Oren Xavier - Head priest".

The pieces start to click together in your head. Vincent Oren Xavier, V,O, X - That must be the Vox Evangeline was talking about! Your snapped out of your thoughts as he speaks.

"Well, you must be the famous y/n I've been hearing about!" he finally says, his voice booming and upbeat. "That's me," you squeak out.

"Elder Evangeline told me all about your story, I'm so sorry to hear that, my dear," though expressing his sympathy, his smile remains unwavering. "It's fine, it led me here so-". "And we're happy to welcome you with open arms!" he exclaims with a chuckle.

You knit your hands together in your lap anxiously, "-Actually, I had a few questions.". "Oh?" he raises an eyebrow, "by all means, go ahead.".

"Well, Father," you begin, "what does this church believe exactly?". "My dear, we here at Signal Dominion are our sector of Christianity. Are you familiar with Christianity?". You nod, "I was raised Catholic.". "And as of lately?" he raises an eyebrow. "Not so much," you admit.

He nods and hums in acknowledgment softly, "No worries, we accept all that are willing to join.". "Good, good... What exactly makes this church different from a Christian church?". His smile seems to grow at your question, his tone full of confidence as he answers, "The Signal Dominion is special, the other denominations have lost their way, been too lax on God's plan for humanity.".

You lean forward in your chair, "And that plan is?". "To be saved, of course!" he grins. "Right, right," you exhale softly, "and how do you get saved?".

"Follow the church, and you'll see," Father Vox extends his hands to you, gesturing for you to hold them. You reach out and take his surprisingly soft and large hands in yours. "We can save you here, my child," he squeezes your hands, "you won't have to feel this dread upon you any longer. Don't go back to your old life, once you join the church, it's the first day of your eternal life, free of sin and grief.".

"Okay," you reply softly, hiding your internal excitement at the prospect of getting more info. Vox prays over you, eyes fixed shut as he asks God to "take away your grief"- as if grieving was an inherently bad thing. Vox commences the prayer with an "amen" and opens his eyes, gazing at you softly, "Come to our Wednesday night mass, I think you'll find it empowering.". "Oh, alright- I'd love to," you reply softly.

His hands linger for a moment before pulling away, "I'll see you Wednesday then.". You smile and nod goodbye before exiting his office.

Shutting the door behind you, you lean against it, breathing heavily as a smile stretches across your face. You did it, you're in.

__

The following days were spent working as a secretary by day and a journalist by night. Lately, your normal job didn't seem as horrible as before. You showed a renewed interest in life; every guy who would be sexist toward you was met with a smile and a nod. All you needed was the comforting notion that one day, they'd work with you. You felt comforted as you imagined the looks of horror on their smug faces as they realized that you're gonna work with them. All that good karma was coming back to you.

Currently, you're getting ready for Wednesday night mass. You fashioned your hair into loose, brushed-out waves that draped elegantly over your shoulders paired with a modest white shirtwaist dress. Once ready, you leave your apartment and head to the church.

When you walk in, you see the church booming with people. The congregation is dancing and singing as people play music on stage, a huge difference from the reverent mass you saw just a few days ago. In the crowd of people, you spot Evangeline singing and clapping in the front row of pews.

You walk up to her and wave, "Good to see you!". She greets you with a big hug, "Father Vox told me everything! Welcome to the signal dominion!". You smile at her enthusiasm, "Thanks for getting me a talk with him, I owe it all to you, honestly.". She shakes her head, "It's not me, it's you. Father Vox chose you specifically, you're special.". You open your mouth to speak but are cut off by everyone cheering as they turn their attention to the center aisle.

Father Vox jogs down the aisle, no altar servers present in front of him. This seemed to be a way more casual sermon than the "usual" Sunday mass. He goes up to the podium and speaks into the mic, "Welcome, my children, take a seat.". The people scatter into the pews excitedly and wait expectantly for Vox to speak.

He crosses his heart, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Peace be with you.". "And with your spirit!" the room calls out cheerfully. "I'd like to start tonight's service by giving a hand to our amazing worship team!" he gestures his arms out wide to the small band exiting the stage. The church erupts in cheering with the whole congregation clapping and shouting praise.

Vox holds his hands up, and suddenly, the room quiets, "Tonight, we have an important sermon –one about taking a leap of faith, and putting your whole being into the Church. Let us pray.". He leads the church in the Nicene Creed, his deep charismatic voice carrying through the whole building.

"Amen."

He takes the microphone stick in hand and carries it with him as he walks down the pews, "You know, I was talking to God yesterday-" some people cheer at that, eliciting a wider smile from Vox. His expression flattens, and he turns more serious, "And he told me how distraught he was.". The people murmur sorrowfully, some looking down at the ground with guilt as if it was their fault.

Walking up, he gets close to the pews and starts to speak in people's faces, "I am trying to lead humanity to salvation, and all I see is neglect and evil in this world... even from some people in this community.". A few people get spiteful looks from other members; it was as if Vox is trying to pit the people against each other. Have others hold each other accountable for their "wrong doings".

Vox walks back to the podium and sets the microphone down, dragging his hands down his face to dramatically express his despondency. The sermon felt like a performance, almost theatrical in the way Vox was acting. He takes his hands off his face and sighs,

"As some of you may know, I didn't preach on Sunday. I was in despair, so much so that I couldn't preach-". The congregation gasps and murmurs. "Then suddenly, God appeared and said, "My son, you will guide these people!" he starts to yell, pointing aggressively at the crowd, "You will lead these sheep to pasture for you are there sheperd!".

The room claps and cheers, increasingly encouraging him to keep ranting, "Don't let yourself be ruled by fear, that's the devil talking! I was lifted up by the Lord! And now you will be too!". He points at an elderly woman in a wheelchair, a woman you hadn't seen before at past sermons, "You there! I command you, with the power of the Lord to STAND UP!".

The lady struggles, insisting she can't do it. "I SAID STAND UP!" he commands, throwing his arms up to motion her out of her chair. You watch in horror as this wheelchair-bound woman is forced out of her chair. After struggling, the lady springs out of her chair and walks around with a celebratory lap around the pews.

The room is filled with shouting praise and cheer, people rising from their seats and crying with joy. You stay sitting, your body frozen as you try to comprehend what the fuck you just saw. Obviously, it was bullshit, but seeing all these people getting roped further into Vox's lies made you want to puke. The once excited feeling of going undercover gets replaced with dread. How could you treat these poor people like a story? Shouldn't you be helping them?!

Your stomach starts to ache at the sight. While people around you rejoice in the "miracle" that happened before their eyes, you sit there, staring blankly ahead of you.

__

The sermon lasted hours. Vox would go on rants about how the church is under attack and we must fight back against them. You found yourself nodding off only to be woken by Vox yelling.

The sermon finally concluded, and people quickly shuffled out of the building. You were a bit delayed in your movements, grabbing your purse drowsily and slowly walking out of the pews. A hand grabs at your shoulder. You turn around and see Evangeline with a tired smile on her face, "Father Vox would like to talk to you in his office.". Great. Sighing softly, you force a polite smile and nod, "Thanks.".

__

The stairs creak as you walk up the spiral staircase to Vox's office, the already tense atmosphere becoming even creepier at night. You're instantly waken up by the freezing temperature. You quickly jog to his office and knock hastily, not wanting to wait a second longer in the corridor.

"Come in, my dear."

You push the door open to reveal the dark office illuminated by candles on Vox's desk. His handsome features still displayed even in the dim light of the room, "Have a seat.". Taking a seat across from him, he gazes at you for a moment, studying your features. Exhaling softly, he speaks, "God was telling me about you.". You raise an eyebrow, "He... He was?".

He smiles softly, "He told me you're special... you're different from everyone else. I think you will do great here.". "I hope so," you smile wearily back at him. You really couldn't even bear to look at him anymore. Part of you wanted to scream in his face cry all at once, but what good would that do? He knows what he's doing is wrong, he doesn't need someone telling him what he already knows.

Vox tilts his head at you, "I hope we didn't scare you off with tonight's service.". Your eyes widen, "No, no-". He chuckles and holds up a hand to cut you off, "It's okay, don't lie. I understand how a healing service can be a bit intimidating for new members.". "It's okay, it was just... unexpected," you admit reluctantly.

Vox chuckles softly, "I bet. I know it all seems confusing and scary right now, but trust the church. Trust me, y/n. I think you can make it very high here in the church, maybe even an elder.". Whooo whoopdy doo you get to be an elder!!! You plaster on a fake smile, "I'd be honored.".

Rising from his seat, Vox walks over to behind your chair and places his hands firmly on your shoulders. He leans down and whispers softly, his voice smooth and charismatic, "I know right now everything seems chaotic, but it will all be over soon. You'll be safe here.". His words send a shiver to your spine, the "reassuring" words almost sounding threatening.

He releases you from his firm hold, and you exchange goodbyes, eager to get home after a long day. Kicking off your heels, you collapse onto your bed. You don't bother with writing tonight, that can wait for another day. For now, you let yourself debrief and rest. It's been a long day.

__

"Better," your boss states flatly, tossing your report back on his desk. "That- That's it?" you ask, frustrated, all that work for "better"? Mr. Anderson shrugs, "Look, it's a fine report. But we're not looking for "fine." Here, let's put it this way... How did you feel when you saw what was happening to these people?". You tilt your head as you respond, "I felt... distraught and devastated and-". Your boss cuts you off. "Exactly!" he exclaims, poking your report as he speaks, "then show that in your writing. When I read this I feel nothing, it's just facts laid out in front of me. Put the reader in your shoes, I want you to make them feel like they're seeing what you're seeing.".

"How do I-" you squeak out before getting interrupted once more

"Sheesh, woman!" he groans, "Do I have to give you everything? Just- Here, go deeper. You said that this "Vox" guy said sum about "climbing ranks"?". You nod affirmatively. "Expand on that," he encourages, "climb the ranks, get the story. Got it?". You held your questions and feebly grab your report, "Yes, sir.".

__

You've really had to step it up. For the past few services, you've attended every single one, from the calm Sunday service to the bizarre Wednesday night ones. But, you hadn't really made any progress with diving deeper into the church as your boss suggested. Outside of sermons, you hadn't personally seen Vox since your eerie chat with him in his office. You thought you had a leg up when he called you "special," though looking back, that's probably what he says to everyone who joins the church.

This morning, you really were gonna step up your ass-kissing game to the church. You arrive an hour early to the Sunday service, dressed all prim and proper in a wine-red sheath dress. For the first time you've ever seen it, the church was completely empty. The once-packed pews are now completely devoid of any life, and yet, you had a strange feeling you weren't alone...

You ignore the strange feeling of eyes on you and approach the altar. Slowly, you kneel before it and get into a prayer position, eyes furrowed shut as you firmly clasp your hands together against your forehead. Just for good measure, you mutter "please God" under your breath every now and again. You felt a bit silly doing this, almost like a child playing pretend.

For about half an hour you knelt there, hoping your faux devotion would catch the eye of the higher ranks. Just as your knees were starting to give out, a large hand gently grabs hold of your shoulder, "Come with me.".

You open your eyes and see Vox standing behind you, a subtle smile across his sharp features. He offers a hand to you and helps you to your feet. Without another word, he swiftly turns and guides you upstairs to his office.

Once upstairs, he opens the door for you and gestures a hand out for you to walk in. The two of you take a seat, Vox smiles softly, "Don't think your actions have gone unnoticed, my dear.". Your heart rate quickens. Were you found out? "I've noticed your devotion, and so have the others.". You exhale softly, relieved that this wasn't some sort of shake-down. Tilting your head, you fake confusion, "My devotion?".

"Yes, the elders and I have noticed your piety towards the church. Out of all the members in the church, your efforts stand out," he chuckles softly and reaches into his desk, "I meant what I said when I called you 'special'.". Vox lifts his hand from the desk, a pretty gold beaded rosary necklace hangs off his index finger. You lean forward to get a better look at the jewelry, "What's that for?". "You," he gestures the necklace toward you, "to show my appreciation, you've become a model member of the church."

Taking the rosary from him, you marvel at the dainty intricacies of the necklace. It was real gold, from what you could tell, and not just plated either. Gold beads were strung along the dainty chain, and the apex held a pendant with the initials "T.S.D", a beaded chain hanging down from it. At the bottom of the chain hung a diamond-encrusted cross, the crystal shining brightly in the dim room. How did Vox have the money for this? Surely being head of a "church" couldn't make that much money, right? Whatever the reason was, you shouldn't accept gifts from a corrupt person paid with money from God knows where.

Your fingers run over the expensive jewelry, "I really can't accept this.". Vox tilts his head to the side, "Why not?". "Because its uhm," your hands clutch the necklace in your hand, you whisper under your breath, "really fucking expensive.". Snapping your head up to look at him with wide eyes, "Shit I mean- Wait sorry again- It's just-". Vox raises his eyebrows and chuckles, "No worries, you're forgiven."

Getting up from his desk, Vox strides over to you, gently releasing the necklace from your grasp, "Don't worry, the church paid for it. Besides, this isn't about money, think of it as a "thank-you" gift.". His hands brush your hair to the side and deftly clasp the necklace around your neck from behind. He moves back in front of you and clasps his hands together, "Lovely."

Glancing at the clock, Vox excuses himself to get ready for the sermon and you leave shortly after for the service.

__

A few weeks have passed since your surprise gift, and ever since then, Vox has kept an eye on you. There would be moments when his eyes would meet yours during a sermon, almost as if he was speaking directly to you. Part of you hated how much you liked the attention, Vox was the only man in your life who treated you decent, even if he was using you to further his agenda and grow his cult. The other part of you was terrified by it.

With all the close attention to you, you have to be extra careful to not let your true intentions slip. One mistake, and it's over for you. No career, and hell, Vox would probably kill you to keep that story from coming out.

It's currently Saturday night, you had gone to bed early for the morning service and were sound asleep. The loud trill of your home phone wakes you in a panic. You snap up into a sitting position and exhale softly after realizing that it wasn't some type of alarm.

After stretching, you hop out of bed and walk to the kitchen as the phone blares, "Jesus Christ, shut up...". Grabbing the phone off the wall, you pick up the phone and speak gravelly, "Hello?".

"Good morning!" a familiar voice responds, "I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time.". "Uh, I'm sorry, who is this?" you question, leaning against the wall to support your exhausted body. "This is Vox," he responds. Oh shit! You perk up instantly and hold the phone closer to you, "Oh! Vox! Uh, good morning... h-how'd you get this number?". "Anywho," he ignores with a cheerful tone, "I just wanted to call and let you know about tomorrow's sermon.".

Pushing off the wall, you pace in a small circle around your kitchen, "What about tomorrow's sermon?". "I just wanna make sure you'll be there, I can count on you, right?". "Yeah, of course-" the cord yanks you back softly as it stretches to its max. "ow fuck-" you mutter. "What was that?" the voice asks. "Nothing! Uh, I'll see you tomorrow, bye!" you stammer out, slapping your palm to your forehead in embarrassment.

The phone clicks in its spot on the wall and you cover your face in exhaustion and mortification at your slip-up. You really had to work on your cussing if you were gonna sell this whole "widowed church girl" persona. Whatever that's tomorrow's problem, you're too delirious to function right now.

__

After a pathetic night's rest of tossing and turning, you wake up and head to church. Sitting in the center front pew, you save a spot for Evangeline. You've grown quite fond of her over the past few months, and although she was a little church-crazy, she's been nothing but welcoming to you. Evangeline skips over to you with a wide grin, "Y/N!". "Hey!" you greet her with a hug and chat a bit before the sermon begins.

The lights dim as the mass starts, candles illuminating the walkway as the altar servers walk to the altar. Vox follows behind them, his hands folded in a prayer position. His eyes meet yours, giving you a soft smile. Your lips subconsciously twitch up into a grin as you see him. You snap your head back up to the stage once you realize what you were doing, no time for making eyes at a literal fucking cult leader. Sure, he's attractive, but he's a psychopath! 'get it together, y/n,' you say to yourself.

Vox approaches the podium and goes over the routine responsibilities and creeds. "Good morning," he says into the mic, his voice booming through the large church. "Good morning," the congregation responds. "Today is a special sermon," he begins, "many of you have such courageous testimonies of how you entered the church! And some of you have so graciously offered to share your stories today-". People start exiting the pews and lining up on the stage. Vox smiles and gestures one of them up to the pew. The woman smiles softly as he speaks into the podium's microphone, "I first found out about the church when...".

__

The testimonies droned on for about an hour. Each testimony, though intended to ignite a fire in your faith, made your stomach churn. Hearing about these people who once had great lives, leaving them in a time of darkness, cutting everyone off, all for the hope of having a purpose in the church. A tear trickled down your cheek as you listened to people fall deeper into the cult. If only they knew their "salvation" would be their downfall.

As the last person wrapped up their story, the congregation erupted in applause and cheer. Vox retakes the stage and speaks into the mic, "Thank you, everyone, for those beautiful stories... and I'd like to invite one more person, a new member, to share their story.". He gestures a hand out to you in the crowd, your face turning white. Fuck. Why wouldn't he ask you about this first? You already are mortified by public speaking, it's gonna take everything in you not to accidentally expose yourself.

Shakily, you arise from your seat, eliciting light applause from around you. Once you reach the podium, you clear your throat nervously, "H-Hi everyone.". Evangeline smiles proudly and gives you a thumbs up. You smile back at her and continue, "M-My story started when uhm my husband died. It was a really dark time for me and I just wanted to have hope again.". Fidgeting with your hands, you glance at Vox who gives you a condescending smile.

Standing up straighter, you speak more confidently into the microphone, "And then I found this church, and I was scared... really scared. But with the help of a lot of you here, I really found a purpose again. Thank you for everything, I'm glad I'm here.". You quickly exit the stage and plop in your seat. Evangeline immediately showers you in praise while you stare at the floor in mortification. __

The service goes on for another half hour or so. You're eager to leave, quickly getting up and grabbing your things once Vox ends the sermon. You just wanted to go home, relax, and take a bath- You've pushed yourself hard the past few weeks, maybe it's time to take a break from the story for a little bit.

And just as you're about to leave, a firm hand grasps your shoulder. "My dear, come with me for a moment," the familiar voice rings in your ear. Fuck! You sigh and oblige, not wanting to rouse any suspicion. Who knows what he would do if you denied him.

He leads you down the corridor and into his office, the door shutting behind you with a loud creek. You both sit down, Vox staring at you with his piercing multicolored eyes, "Your testimony was beautiful, dear.". You huff quietly to yourself, "Yeah, it was just- unexpected.". He chuckles, "Ah, I see, not a big public speaker?". You shake your head no. "I'm sorry you feel that way," he says somewhat apologetically.

Noticing your harsh stare as opposed to your usual submissive one, Vox sighs softly. "Here," he grabs a bottle and two glasses out of his desk and pops it open. He poured some of what looked like champagne into your glass and handed it to you. "Is this booze?" you raise an eyebrow. He flips the bottle over to reveal the "Sparkling Cider" Label. "Pft, oh," you chuckle softly and pick up the glass.

You clink your glasses together. "Cheers," he says, his rich voice sounding a bit husky. You take a sip, unaware of Vox's intent gaze on you as you drink the beverage. His gaze drifts to your necklace as you wipe the foam from the drink off your lips, "I see you're still wearing the necklace I gave you. I take it you like it?". "Oh, yeah," your hands move up to fidget with the cross pendant, "It's really nice, thanks again by the way.".

"No need to thank me," he states, laughing softly as his gaze wanders over your features, "It looks beautiful, my dear.". "Oh- Thank you," you try to cover the unwanted blush spreading across your face.

He sets the bottle down and rests his elbows on the desk, "You know, I think I owe you my testimony now that you shared yours.". You tilt your head, "Your testimony?".

He nods, "I didn't come from a good home. My father was- very abusive. And so was my mother. CPS must've investigated my parents a dozen times, but, they never convicted them of anything. Just chalked it up to parental punishment and me being a sensitive kid.".

Your eyebrows furrow in a sympathetic expression, "I had no idea I-". He cuts you off, "No, no, don't be sorry. That isn't the part I want you to focus on.". Vox leans closer over the desk, "Things only got worse as I got older. My parents were broke and only became more abusive over time...".

He gets up from his chair with an excited grin and walks over to you. "But then, God appeared to me and said, "Vincent, my son, I have bigger plans for you than this! Go forth and spread the good news!". And so I did! I took my old man's car and ventured out here, where I started the church.".

As he wraps up his testimony he looks at you excitedly, almost as if he is seeking approval like it was some kind of performance that he did. You flipped your cringe into a surprised grin, "Wow that's- that's incredible!". Taking another sip, you groan internally as he keeps going on about the "Son of God" bullshit.

__

As time goes on, you start to feel funny. Time didn't feel as though it were passing, but as you glance at the clock you realize that hours had passed. Vox’s voice starts to sound like he’s talking underwater, your main focus being the loud ringing in your ear.

You wince and cover your ears. Vox smiles, “Everything okay?”. “Ya its just hot in here,” you speech starts to slur, suddenly feeling a bit more free and loose lipped, “I wan leave but I also don’t… I dunno…”.

He chuckles softly, “Oh is that so?.”. “Yaa… I think imma just take a nappp,” you slump against the chair and close your eyes. The last thing you hear before passing out is a soft “perfect” whispered in your ear.

__

Your eyes flutter open, catching glimpses of the scene before you. Vox was driving you somewhere while you sat limp against the seat. You couldn’t move or talk very well, only being able to function through sight; it almost like being in a state of sleep paralysis. “Voxxx?” you mumble out. He pulls into a driveway and parks the car. “Hey there, doll,” he coos, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Where are we goin’?”. Vox unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the car. He opens the door and carries you out of the vehicle, “My house, you passed out. I just wanna keep an eye on you and make sure your okay.”. “mffkayyy,” you lean against his arm as he carries you inside.

The house before you is rather large with beautiful foliage out in the front that was well kept. Modern furniture decorated the lavish house with at least 3 TVs just in the downstairs area. “ ‘S a big house. Hows it so big I thought priests were poor,” you say absentmindedly.

He chuckles softly as he carries you up the grandiose staircase, “The people donate to the church to pay me.”. You scoff, “Pfftt, donate what? Half their fuckkinn’ salary.”.

“Language,” he reminds sternly, “and yes.”. He carries you into a large master bedroom, the same lavish furniture with crosses riddled all over the walls. “You can lay here,” he sets you down on the soft mattress. “Thanks Vox urr nicer than I thought you’d be,” you smile at him.

Stepping out of his shoes, Vox crawls onto the bed with you and sits beside you. His soft large hands reach out to cradle your face. Sleepily you lean into his touch. “Mmmm,” you hum into his palm.

His hands snake down from your face to your waist and hoist you onto his lap. Your neck is eagerly peppered with kisses, hands sliding up your dress and onto your bare thighs. For a moment, you lean into his touch, “Vox… Mmph.“.

While one hand massages your thighs, the other works to unzip your dress. The cold contact of metal onto your skin briefly brings you back to your senses, “Vox, wait, no- We can’t-.”.

“Shh,” he continues undressing you, “don’t worry, let me make you feel good.”. You feel too weak to stop him, eventually just giving into his actions. The dress slips down your shoulders and is slid off your body. He quickly discards his priest garments and other clothing on the floor.

Grabbing a thigh in each hand, Vox spreads your legs and hovers over you. His thick veiny cock presses up against his stomach, pre cum leaking from his tip down his shaft.

He slowly enters your dripping pussy, “Ah… There we go.”. “Mmph~ Oh god-,” you moan out, your vision getting a bit hazy. He stays still for a moment, allowing you to accommodate for his size.

After a minute he rolls his hips into you, establishing a steady rhythm. You stare blankly at the ceiling, only partly focused on the pleasure winding up in your core. Every now and again you’ll moan softly as you watch the room spin. You flicker in and out of consciousness, unaware of how much time has passed or how long Vox has been going.

Grunts escape his throat as he pistons into you, his pace become more erratic as he got closer to orgasm. You were close too, your hips weakly bucking into his. “Thats it,” he says breathlessly, looking you in your glazed over eyes. His hips start to slam into yours, sending waves of pleasure over you as you came.

Your a bit overstimulated as he continues chasing his own relief, drawing out whimpers and moans from you. “Hnnf, Hnnnff~,” His hips start to stutter until he finally fills you up with his seed. Once Vox pulls out you feel the cum dripping out of you.

Releasing his grip on your thighs, he lays down on the bed and pulls you into a spooning position. The last thing you feel before you succumb to sleep is the kiss Vox presses into your hair.

__

The next morning, you wake up around 10 with a pounding headache. Blinking your eyes open, you sit up abruptly. You were at home. “Vox?” you call out. No response. A hand shakily drags down your face, “F-Fuck… What have I done…?”. The weight of the situation sets in, mortification settling in your stomach.

Nausea washes over you and you quickly run out of bed to the bathroom. Leaning over the toilet you throw up. You remembered being sick last night, you remembered everything from last night.

On the floor of your bathroom, you hug your knees and bury your face in your hands. You just had sex with a cult leader… Sobbing softly, you mutter to yourself, “I can’t do this anymore…”.

You wipe your tears and march to your type writer where you hastily finish that god forsaken story. Every last detail was thrown in, well, except for last nights events…

You don’t care if it has a billion spelling mistakes, you just want this to finally be over. Even if some part of you liked Vox, you’d never admit it. You could never be with him.

Throwing on whatever clothes you had out, you grab the freshly typed papers and sprint to your car.

__

The doors of the NYT office building fling open as you burst through them. “Woah,” a coworker comments, “what’s got you so-.”. You cut him off, “Go fuck yourself.”. Fuck that, fuck him. You’re not taking that crap anymore. The worker stands there in embarrassment and shock. He scoffs and mutters something as he retreats to his desk.

You march into Mr. Johnsons office and hold the papers up in the air, “It’s done!”. Mr. Johnson covers the receiver of the rotary phone, “Hold on-“. “Please!” you plead, wanting this to be done and over. He ignores you. No, you demand to be taken seriously for once. You walk closer to his desk and snatch the phone from him and place it down to end the call. “Y/N!” he yells, “you can’t just-!”. “Mr. Johnson just please read it over!” you beg.

He groans, “Fine!”. He snatches the papers out of your hands and reads over the report for a few minutes. Once he’s done, he hands them back to you, “Great, thanks.”. He gets back to work after dismissing you.

“I-Is that all?” you ask, “what about my future here at the company?”. “Listen doll,” he slides the papers he was working on aside for a moment, “you have a future at the company as a secretary.”. “What?! I worked for mo-“. “Frankly I don’t care,” he interrupts coldly, “this was just something to keep you occupied so you’d stop bitching!”.

“Why would you promise me a job then?!” you defend, tears welling up in your eyes. Mr. Johnson sighs, “Jesus- It’s company policy not to hire women anyway! And look at you, you completed one story and you look a mess! Your cryin’, snappin’ at employees, and you look wrecked. Why have that when a man can easily complete a job without all this drama? Now get out!”.

“But I-“

“Out!”

Clutching the papers in your hands, you begrudgingly walk out of the office. You hear the whispering and light laughter of the employees as you walk out. Tears flow down your cheeks, walking faster until you out of sight from the ridicule.

Once your outside you lean against the wall of the building and sob into your hands. You shake as you let everything out. All of that, for nothing. You felt like nothing, a nobody. You look at the papers in your hands, the words angering you and causing you to rip them to shreds. People pass by you, but you ignore the stares at your public breakdown.

You pull a pack of cigarettes out of your purse and light one. You shakily inhale, and exhale the somewhat soothing smoke. “Oh God,” you whisper, burying your face in your hands.

__

You sit in your car for awhile, not sure where to go. Should you go home? No, you don’t want to just sit their and be sad. Your friends wouldn’t understand, you hadn’t even spoken to them since you started this project. You start the car, and as if your hands had a mind of their own, you mindlessly drive to Vox’s estate.

You weren’t exactly sure how you remembered to get their, but suddenly, you were in front of the large estate once again. As you hop out of the car, your legs almost seem to turn to jelly as they wobble and shake. Wobbly approaching the door, you ring the loud doorbell.

The grandiose door swings open, revealing Vox in more casual wear then you’d previously seen, “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where-“. You cut him off, “I-I remembered from yesterday, somehow…”. His face turns pale at the mention of yesterdays events, “Wait you remember- Nevermind, why are you here?”. You sniffle, tears flowing down your face once more, “I didn’t know where else to go.”.

“Shh shh, hey,” he pulls you into a hug, ”what’s wrong?”.

__

Vox had you settled onto settled against him on the couch. You told him everything that happened. He nods slowly as you finish your story, “I see… Those report papers are shredded right.”. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I tore them up…I’m sorry.”.

“It’s okay, you’re forgiven,” he coos, “but why’d you come here?”. You shrug, "I didn't have anyone else to go to...". He nods and pulls you closer against him, "It's okay, you're here now. You're safe, trust me.".

"So, what now?" you ask softly, "are you gonna have me actually join the church now?". He chuckles softly, "Doll, you've already been in the church for a long time now. You just need to recommit your faith".

__

You had stayed with Vox for the past few weeks, listening to his guidance on how to live a happy and virtuous life. And it was working, you were happy. At first, you doubted everything. I mean this was surely a cult, right? Vox assured you that it wasn't, saying that "if your boss lied to you about your job as well, then why doubt that he lied to you about this being a "cult"?". He had a good point, and since then, you became a true follower of the church.

Vox had you cut off everyone, telling you that they were holding you back from your true potential. You believed him, they were holding you back.

The next few services had a whole new meaning for you, instead of judging them from an analytical perspective, you really engrossed yourself in the message. Vox was happy with your newfound piety, and planned to make you an elder of the church.

__

Becoming an elder requires a "swearing-in" ceremony in front of everyone. You were incredibly nervous, feeling sick to your stomach. Vox drove you to the church and felt your anxious energy, "Don't worry, my dear, everything will be fine.". You clutch your stomach, the car making you even more nauseous, "Vox I don't feel good...".

"It's just nerves, you'll be just fine," he softly reassures you, "let's pray on it, hm? Dear God,-".

__

You clutch Vox's hand tightly as he guides you onto the stage, the congregation eagerly watching as you become an elder. All 5 of the other elders in the church were on the stage as well. Evangeline smiles proudly as Vox prepares to make you an Elder of the Church, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She mouths, 'I'm so proud' to you as you approach the bible labeled "T.S.D". Vox has you put one hand over the bible and the other in the air. He speaks into the mic, "She will now recite the Elder oath.".

You must've recited it a hundred times before coming here to make sure to nail it, but you were preoccupied with the growing nausea you felt. As you recite the oath, you look awfully sick, your face pale and your body swaying slightly. "I, Y/N L/N, swear to adhere to the Church and fully commit myself to the church and Vox. If I fail to do this then- BLECH". Your nausea suddenly took over, the church watching in horror as you barf all over the fucking bible.

The whole church is silent, in shock over the situation. Vox's mouth is agape and his eyes are wide, not understanding what the fuck just happened. You didn't really understand either, all you did know was that if you didn't get out of there quick you'd throw up on it for a second time.

You dart to the nearest bathroom and barf into the sink. This definitely wasn't just nerves.

End

__

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-

its finally done! (tho there will for sure be a part two, but it def won't be as long).

this my Christmas gift to you guys so yayyy

if u enjoyed pls affirm me i worked hard ok bye

this shit is barely edited by the way so bye

[incorporealbombchelle]

Friend Of The Family: Epilogue

When I wake up, the lights in Mr. Reed's bedroom have been turned off, the scented candle on the nightstand blown out. I'm sleep-warmed and a little hazy as I reach a hand around the bed next to me. Cold. Empty. Where is he? Rolling opposite, toward the edge of the bed, I fish my phone out of the pocket of my jeans. 4:09 a.m. Dad should be up in a couple hours.

I gather my clothes and hurriedly make my way into the guest bathroom, turning on the shower and ridding myself of last night's underwear. Taking a minute to scan my body in the mirror, I realize how tired I look - because I am, and I already know I'm probably going to be asleep most of the day. My thoughts are interrupted by the buzz of the phone on the vanity.

Reed: You're up early. Toast, coffee? x

Memories of last night's rendezvous fill my mind and a deep blush takes my features as I tap back : yeah down in a sec 💕

After my shower, I slip into a pair of pink flannel pajama pants and a tank top and make my way down to the kitchen, where Mr. Reed has set out my breakfast, but is nowhere to be found.

Me: thx 4 breakfast, btw where r u?

Reed: End of the hall, past the bust, door on the right. x

I take a sip of the coffee, -he remembered how I like it- and abandon the toast to find him. The hallway is dimly lit but bright light flows from under the door at the end and I let myself in.

"Hello?"

"(y/n), welcome."

He sits at a desk near the door scattered with a few different piles of books, journals, tinkering with something. I take a look around the room. It's a maze of dark shelves filled with all manner of books, records, magazines, and in the center, a large desk, on which sits a nearly burned down candlestick and behind which are two doors, one green and the other purple. There are a couple rows of what look to be pews, and a long, seemingly wine-stained Persian aisle runner, and while I'm all for meticulously curated decor, I can't quite place this room's purpose.

Taking a couple steps further in, I look around a bit more. Portraits of different religious figureheads line a wall and I notice a vinyl player off to one side of the room. "So is this like, your office or...?"

"Office. Sanctuary. Man-Cave. Whatever you like." He doesn't look up.

"Huh. Cozy. And why have I been summoned here at nearly 5am?"

"You woke up at nearly 5am, I heard your dainty little footsteps, and I figured that maybe... you'd like to open a gift, what do you say?"

"I say...yes, please" I beam, closing the door behind me and wandering behind his seat at the desk. He has a journal of barely legible scrawl open and I watch over his shoulder as Mr. Reed carves details into a small wooden figurine. Resting a hand over either of his shoulders, I set my chin on his head and he relaxes his arms, setting down the figure and carving knife. "Right. Take a seat just there," he gestures to the pews, "hold out your hands and close your eyes, please." He taps the tops of my hands and I do as he says.

Taking my seat and closing my eyes, I hear Mr. Reed shuffling through the room behind me and then feel him settling into the pew just beside me.

"Don't look yet, dear."

"I'm not, I swear," I laugh, feeling a weight settle into my palms, and run the tips of my fingers along the edge of it... thin... large.... square....

"Go on, then. Open."

I open my eyes and it dawns on me. It has to be a vinyl. Has to be. There's no way it's not.

I cautiously peel back one edge of the wrapping paper to see a gilded block letter 'Y' over a blue background. No fucking way. I quickly rip away the rest of the wrapping paper and in my hands sits the vinyl record cover of Lana's Born To Die : Paradise Edition... and in the left bottom corner, in gold looping script.... it's signed. My eyes go wide. I have to blink a few times to make sure this is really happening. Holding the record up to the light, the metallic script shifts and glimmers. It is real. She... she signed this. She held this. I scoff in shock, feeling tears sting the corners of my eyes.

"Well? Do you like it?"

"Thank you...so much... holy shit. How did you even get this?"

"Well, you'll remember that before the world shut down, at the height of her popularity, she used to do signings, meet-and-greets, that sort of thing... I've been to...many."

"I thought you didn't leave the house anymore?"

"Not for things like...groceries, or clothing, stupid things, but... for her, on occasion... I make an exception."

He smirks, proud of himself, and I can tell this is of the same sentimental value to him as it is to me.

"Mr. Reed, are you sure you want me to have this? You said it was one of your favorites... I can't take something like this from you..."

"Let me give you something I love, that we both do. That is what this is all about, after all."

"But I didn't get you anything-"

"Wrong. I'd say, (y/n), that your mere presence here, your personality, as pretentious, contrarian and apathetic as it's been, has been a great gift to me. So thank you, for the gift of allowing me to know you."

I attempt to blink away tears of joy but they come regardless and he wraps an arm around my shoulder as I wipe them away, "Merry Christmas, (y/n)." A kiss to the top of my head.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Reed."

He tips my chin up. Our eyes meet, and he leans in.

As we kiss, I feel one of his hands rest on the back of my neck and it occurs to me that this may be one of the last times I get to be with him like this before Dad and I head back to the city, and the Oxbridge winter break concludes.

Mr. Reed's tongue tastes like black coffee, and he smells of cardamom and clove. He takes the record from my hands, setting it aside and pulls away for a moment. "I'll miss this. You, being here..."

"After this...When will we see eachother again, in person I mean?"

"Well, they do still allow you a summer holiday, yes?"

"Yes..."

"I don't see why you wouldn't be able to fly in..."

"But it costs-"

"I'd pay for it. Happily. You are worth at least the price of a Heathrow-Boulder plane ticket, or maybe even the other way around..." he takes one of my hands in his, quirking an eyebrow at me.

"You'd come to see me?"

"If I absolutely have to, I don't see why not. Bit of nostalgia never hurt. "

"But what about in the meantime?" 

"We have phones, (y/n), E-mail addresses. I watched E-mail come into existence, and it hasn't failed me yet. I've known lovers who stayed in touch over oceans with much less than you and I have at our disposal." He smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle and I bury my face in his chest to keep from crying. I couldn't have estimated how strongly I'd react to the idea of leaving.

Mr. Reed wraps his arms tightly around me, a hand drawing soothing circles into my back. "Come now, that's alright. Everything will be alright, (y/n). You have my word.  You'll see me sooner than you know."

I sniffle, breathing deep as I look up at him. "Okay. Yeah. I-I'm sorry I just, I really like being with you and-"

"I know. I feel the same. We'll have tomorrow," his voices drops to a whisper "We have tonight..."

He's right and after a couple minutes, we move back to the kitchen to prepare a Christmas Eve breakfast for Dad.

Christmas comes and Christmas goes.

I recieve a green leatherbound journal from Dad, 'To the next great American novelist: never stop.' 

He and Mr. Reed unknowingly gift eachother the exact same grey cashmere sweater, and on the morning of the 26th, we share a tearful goodbye.

Upon my return to the Oxford dormitories, I unpack the Christmas cookies and Lana Record he gave me. I feel myself tear up just looking at them and send a message over Whatsapp: miss you 🥺

Seconds later : And I you. Have you unpacked your things yet? x

Me: no, just the presents from you and from Dad.

Reed: You may want to do so, left a little something at the bottom of your suitcase for exactly this occasion. x

Me: what is it?

Reed: Unpack. x

I tear into the suitcase hastily, tossing clothes, books and toiletries around the room with total abandon until-

I see it.

There, at the bottom of my suitcase; an immaculately folded checkered cardigan.

[lanassgirlll]

Love and Pain

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: A story about love, loss and a second chance.

Warnings: substance abuse, miscarriage, mental health struggles, emotional distress, angst(let me know if I am missing any)

AN: This story may be triggering for some people so please proceed with caution!

You and Bucky had been together for two years. You weren’t an Avenger or anything remotely close to that. You were just a kindergarten teacher, who loved her quiet life. Your days were filled with laughter from your students, your evenings spent with the man you loved, in the cozy apartment you shared.

The two of you had built a life together - a mix of his stoic practicality and your vibrant warmth. The apartment reflected that: his sparse military mementos were softened by your touches - art from your students, soft throw blankets, mismatched photo frames. For a time, it felt perfect.

Until it didn’t.

The change wasn’t sudden, not at first.

It was the subtle shifts in his behavior that you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. But as time went on, it became impossible to ignore.

Bucky had always been a soldier, in one way or another. You knew that. You understood the demands of his work, the weight of his responsibility as an Avenger. But it wasn’t just the missions themselves that were wearing on you anymore. It was the way they’d taken over his life - and in turn, yours.

At first, it was just a few days at a time. A mission here or there, where he’d be gone for a week or so, and you’d try to fill the gap with work, friends, hobbies, whatever you could. He’d call, send the occasional text, and when he came home, you’d throw yourself into making the most of the time you had together. But now.. now it was different.

He’d been gone for weeks - sometimes over a month - and there had been nothing. No calls. No texts. It was always the same story when he came back: "The mission ran longer than expected," or "We had to stay off the grid." He was always apologetic when he finally resurfaced, but the excuses felt hollow now. It was as if you had become an afterthought in his chaotic life, a person he’d get back to when he had a spare moment.

You tried to be understanding. You knew what he did wasn’t easy. You knew the stakes were high, that lives were on the line, that his work as an Avenger was something he couldn’t just walk away from. But the loneliness was unbearable.

It wasn’t just the silence when he was gone - it was the absence of him when he was home, too. Even when he returned, it felt like he was still somewhere else. He’d walk through the door with that tired look in his eyes, like he hadn’t seen a decent night's sleep in ages, and he’d settle into his old routine: training, reading through mission reports, checking in with the team. He was physically there, but emotionally? You might as well have been alone.

Some days, you felt like you didn’t even know the man you were living with anymore.

You would wait, and wait. For him to come home. For him to talk to you. For him to show up in the way he used to. And when he did return, you'd try to be the same woman you were before - eager to make him dinner, excited to talk about your day, hoping that maybe tonight he’d want to sit down with you, to hold you, to laugh like you used to.

But there was always something in his eyes - a faraway look. An urgency. An undercurrent of somewhere else, someone else. Every time he left again, you felt it. His absence didn't just physically separate you, it chipped away at something inside you, too.

Tonight, Bucky had just returned after being gone for over three weeks. You’d stayed up late, waiting for him. The clock on the wall ticked away, each passing second heavier than the last.

When the door finally opened, you didn’t feel the usual rush of excitement you once had. You didn’t feel the familiar warmth in your chest at the sight of him. Instead, there was just a hollow ache.

“Hey”, he said quietly, dragging his duffel bag inside, looking exhausted as always. His hair was a mess, his eyes tired, and his body language was stiff as he stood there in the doorway.

You didn’t know what you expected. Maybe a hug, maybe even just the smallest hint of affection. Something. Instead, you remained seated on the couch, staring at him, feeling the weight of everything unspoken between you.

“You okay?”, Bucky asked, as if he didn’t already know. He’d been gone for too long. How could he not know?

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. “I’m fine”, you said, but the words felt empty as they left your mouth. You weren't fine, but then again, you hadn’t been in weeks. Maybe months. And the more you tried to convince yourself you were okay, the more you realized how much you were breaking.

“Work been good?”, he asked, as if he was trying to fill the space between you with small talk, with questions that didn’t actually mean anything.

You nodded, the lie slipping so easily off your tongue, you almost believed it yourself. “Yeah, it’s been fine.” You’d barely thought about work these past few weeks. How could you? You couldn’t think of anything but him - him being gone, him being so far away, so unreachable.

There was a long silence, one that stretched between you like a thick, suffocating fog. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You needed him to see you, to hear you, to understand how you were feeling.

“Bucky, this.. this isn’t working”, you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re gone so much, and when you’re here, you’re not really here. I don’t -" You swallowed again, feeling the lump in your throat, "I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this”.

His eyes softened, either that, or you were so desperate for any kind of affection, that your mind was starting to play tricks on you.

The guard he’d built around himself was still there, so tight it was like trying to break through steel. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -” He paused, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I didn’t realize it was getting to you like this”.

“You didn’t realize?” Your voice cracked, the frustration and hurt seeping through. “Bucky, you’ve been gone for weeks at a time without even telling me where you are. You’re never here. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep doing this, waiting for you, when you don’t even see me anymore”.

You watched his face change as the words hit him. He didn’t say anything at first, just standing there, looking at you with a mix of guilt and confusion. You could see the internal battle happening in his head, the familiar struggle between his duty and his desire to make things right with you. But the truth was, it was too late for apologies.

“I love you, Bucky”, you whispered, your voice shaking now. “I love you so much, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being all alone just because you’re too busy saving the world to remember I exist”.

His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a long time, he didn’t say a word. The silence between you felt unbearable, like the air had thickened, each moment stretching out further and further, until neither of you knew what to say or how to fix what had been broken.

One night, a few weeks later, Bucky came home for a fleeting reprieve before another mission. You had stayed up late, as you always did when he was away, waiting for the sound of his key turning in the lock. When he finally walked through the door, exhaustion etched into his features, your heart ached for him and for the distance that seemed to grow wider with each passing mission.

That night, desperation fueled your actions. The words you had been holding back melted away, replaced by a need to feel connected, to remind both of you of the love that had brought you together in the first place. You clung to him, pouring all your loneliness, your love, and your frustration into the embrace. The physical intimacy between you reignited as if it could mend what had been broken. The kisses were fervent, the touches electric, and for a moment, you felt as though the pieces of your fractured relationship had been glued back together, if only temporarily. In those stolen moments, you allowed yourself to believe that things might be okay.

Two weeks after he left again, you found yourself staring at a small plastic stick in your trembling hands, the word pregnant displayed in bold, unmistakable letters. The wave of emotions was overwhelming - shock, fear, disbelief, and above all, a glimmer of hope. You sank to the bathroom floor, clutching the test to your chest, tears streaming down your face. It felt surreal, as though the universe had offered you a fragile lifeline. You whispered to yourself, "This is it. This will bring us closer".

Your first instinct was to call Bucky. You dialed his number with shaking fingers, but it went straight to voicemail. You left a message, your voice shaky but tinged with cautious excitement. "Bucky, it’s me. Please call me when you can. It’s important. I.. I have something to tell you". You sent a few texts as well: "I need to talk to you. It’s good news" and "Please, call me when you’re able".

The days stretched on with no response. The silence grew heavier, more suffocating with each passing hour. You couldn’t sleep, your mind filled with questions and fears. Was he safe? Had something happened to him? Or worse, was he choosing not to reply? You tried to reason with yourself - he was likely on a mission, unreachable, off the grid. But the rationalizations did little to calm the storm within you.

Then, a few weeks after discovering the pregnancy, you were jolted awake in the dead of night by a searing pain in your abdomen. Panic gripped you as you felt the damp warmth spreading beneath you. When you turned on the bedside lamp, the sight of blood pooling between your legs stole the air from your lungs. A choked sob escaped your lips as you scrambled to reach your phone, dialing for emergency services with shaking hands.

The ride to the hospital was a blur, your heart pounding so loudly you could hardly hear your own thoughts. Every bump in the road sent fresh waves of pain coursing through you. By the time you arrived, your vision was clouded by tears. Nurses and doctors swarmed around you, their voices a mix of calm instructions and urgent medical jargon.

"Miss, we need to get you into an exam room immediately", one nurse said, her voice gentle but firm as she helped you onto a stretcher. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but clutch your abdomen and nod weakly.

In the brightly lit examination room, a doctor - a middle-aged woman, with kind eyes and a steady demeanor - introduced herself. "I’m Dr. Reyes. We’re going to do everything we can to figure out what’s going on, okay? I need you to tell me when the pain started".

You struggled to form words through the haze of fear and pain. "I.. woke up. It just started.. and then the blood". Your voice broke, and fresh tears streamed down your face.

Dr. Reyes nodded, her expression compassionate but professional. "I’m going to do an ultrasound now to see what’s happening. Try to stay as still as you can".

The gel was cold against your skin as she moved the probe across your abdomen. You stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the terrified pounding of your heart. After a few moments, the doctor sighed softly, her brow furrowed.

"I… I’m so sorry", she said gently. "It looks like you’ve experienced a miscarriage. There’s no heartbeat".

The words shattered something inside you. "No", you whispered, shaking your head in disbelief. "No, please, you have to check again. It’s… it’s too soon".

Dr. Reyes placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I wish I had better news. We’re going to take care of you and make sure you’re stable, but I’m so sorry for your loss".

The rest of the night passed in a haze of procedures and whispered condolences. Nurses came and went, offering quiet reassurances as they tended to you. But no words could reach you. You felt hollow, as if the world had drained you of everything that mattered.

When you were finally discharged, you returned to the apartment, though it no longer felt like home. The silence was deafening, and the weight of your grief pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket. Everywhere you looked, there were traces of him - his jacket draped over a chair, his book left half-read on the coffee table. And now, there was the weight of what could have been. The space that had once been your sanctuary now felt like a tomb, echoing with memories of a life you could no longer bear to face.

You couldn’t stay. The emptiness was too much, the reminders too painful. You packed your belongings with a heavy heart, each item a reminder of what you were leaving behind. The sound of the door closing behind you was final, a punctuation mark on the chapter of your life you had so desperately wanted to salvage. You returned to your old apartment, a place that felt foreign now, and sank into the isolation, leaving behind the life you had fought so hard to build.

Two months passed. Your world had crumbled into ash, leaving nothing but grief and emptiness in its wake. You were consumed by the pain. It was relentless, wrapping around you like a vice. The loss of your baby haunted you, the loneliness gnawed at your spirit, and the anger - anger at Bucky, at yourself, at the universe - was a constant, bitter companion.

At first, you tried to function, clinging to the routines that once brought you joy. But the weight of it all was too much. You quit your job. The sight of children, their laughter, their innocence, was unbearable. You shut out your friends - what few you had left. Their well-meaning concern felt like judgment. You wanted to scream, to tell them they didn’t understand.

And so, you spiraled.

The days blurred together, a haze of pain and self-destruction. You started with wine in the evenings, telling yourself it was to help you sleep, but soon the single glass turned into an entire bottle. Then another. It wasn’t long before mornings became indistinguishable from nights, the alcohol flowing steadily to keep the ache at bay.

But it wasn’t enough. The ache remained, clawing at the edges of your mind, refusing to be silenced. So, you turned to pills - prescriptions left over from past injuries, over-the-counter sleep aids, anything you could get your hands on. At first, it was one or two, just enough to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts. But as the days dragged on, you found yourself reaching for more. A handful here, a few more there, until the numbness became the only thing you could feel.

You stopped eating, the thought of food turning your stomach. A cup of coffee, a piece of toast - that was all you could manage, if anything at all. The sharp pangs of hunger became just another sensation to push down with pills and alcohol. Your body grew weaker, but you didn’t care.

Sleep was elusive, coming in fitful bursts if it came at all. More often, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, your mind racing through memories of what you’d lost. You couldn’t stop replaying the moment in the hospital, the sterile room, the doctor’s solemn expression. It haunted you.

When you caught glimpses of yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the person staring back. Your once vibrant skin was pale and sallow, your cheeks sunken, your eyes hollow. Your hair hung in limp, unwashed strands around your face. Clothes that once fit snugly now hung loose on your frame, a stark reminder of how much weight you’d lost.

But none of it mattered. You didn’t care. Each time you looked at yourself, all you could see was failure - failure as a partner, as a mother, as a human being. The thought whispered to you like a cruel taunt, feeding your belief that this was your punishment, your penance for losing the baby, for being too weak to hold everything together.

The cycle continued, day after day. You stopped checking the calendar, stopped answering your phone. The world outside faded, replaced by the dim, oppressive cocoon of your apartment. Empty bottles and pill packets littered the counters and floor. Curtains stayed drawn, keeping out the daylight.

Each day, you sank further into the void, certain there was no way out. You weren’t living - you were merely existing, drowning in the belief that this was all you deserved.

Bucky returned two months later, his body weary but his mind sharp with anticipation. The mission had been relentless, every moment filled with danger, leaving no room for distractions. He hadn’t had access to his phone or any way to contact you. But the moment he landed, the mission finally over, he powered on his phone.

The screen lit up with a flood of missed calls, dozens upon dozens of unread messages from you. Panic gripped him like a vice. His heart pounded as he scrolled through the notifications, unable to focus on any one message. The timestamps told a story of desperation - calls in the dead of night, texts sent minutes apart, some marked with “URGENT” in all caps.

He didn’t have the strength to read through them. The fear twisting in his chest made it impossible. Instead, he called you immediately, his fingers trembling as he punched in your number.

“Come on”, he muttered, pressing the phone to his ear. The line rang once, twice, before a cold, automated voice told him the number was no longer in service.

“No. No, no, no”. He tried again, and again, each time greeted by the same response. His breathing quickened, panic rising like a tide.

“Come on, Y/N”, he pleaded under his breath, redialing in disbelief. Each failed attempt left him more frantic. What had happened? Why wasn’t your phone working?

By the time he reached the apartment, his heart was racing, his thoughts spiraling into worst-case scenarios. He fumbled with his keys, cursing under his breath as his shaking hands made it difficult to unlock the door. Finally, he shoved it open and stepped inside.

The silence hit him like a physical blow. The air was stale, carrying a faint, sour odor that hinted at how long the space had been untouched. His boots scuffed against the dusty hardwood floor as he stepped further inside, his voice cracking as he called out, “Y/N? Are you here?”

There was no response.

His eyes darted around the living room. The furniture was coated in a thin layer of dust. A coffee cup sat abandoned on the table, its contents dried to a brown stain. A blanket lay crumpled on the couch, as if you’d tossed it aside and never come back for it.

“Y/N?” he called again, louder this time. His voice echoed eerily in the empty space.

The kitchen was next. The sink was filled with dirty dishes, the counters cluttered with empty bottles and pill packets. His chest tightened as he took it all in. Something was wrong - terribly, horribly wrong.

He moved toward the bedroom, each step heavier than the last. When he pushed the door open, his breath caught in his throat. The sight before him was chaos: clothes strewn across the floor, the bed unmade, sheets tangled and stained. A broken lamp lay on the ground, its shattered pieces scattered across the carpet. A drawer from the dresser had been yanked out and left hanging, its contents spilling onto the floor.

“Jesus”, he whispered, his voice barely audible. He stepped inside, his heart pounding. “Y/N?” His voice cracked, a mix of fear and desperation.

He reached for his phone, his hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped it. He dialed Steve, his voice tight with panic as soon as the call connected. “Steve, it’s Bucky. I can’t find her. She’s not here. The apartment - it’s a mess. I don’t know where she is.”

Steve’s voice was calm but urgent on the other end. “Breathe, Buck. We’ll figure this out. Did you check her old place? Friends? Family?”

“No”, Bucky said, his words tumbling over each other. “I don’t even know where to start. Her phone’s disconnected. There’s dust everywhere. Steve, it looks like she’s been gone for weeks.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room.

“We’ll find her”, Steve reassured him. “Just stay calm. Start with any clues you can find. We’ll get through this.”

Bucky ended the call and looked around the room again, forcing himself to focus. His sharp mind, trained for tracking and reconnaissance, kicked in. He scanned for anything that might lead him to you - a note, an address, anything. His gaze fell on an envelope half-hidden under a pile of clothes. He snatched it up and found a crumpled bill for a hospital visit, dated weeks ago.

A sick feeling churned in his stomach as he read the address. “What the hell happened to you, doll?” he muttered under his breath, clutching the paper tightly. Without wasting another second, he bolted out of the apartment, the hospital record clutched in his hand like a lifeline.

Desperation drove him like a storm, relentless and consuming. Bucky worked through the night, poring over every lead, scouring every clue. He dug through old letters, hospital records, even your discarded social media accounts - anything that might point him to where you’d gone.

It was the hospital record that led him to your old address. A part of him hesitated when he saw the crumpled paper in his hands. Was this really where you would go? Why hadn’t you called anyone else? Guilt gnawed at him with every thought, but there was no time to dwell on it. He had to find you.

When he finally stood outside your apartment door, his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest. What if he was too late? What if something had happened to you? His knuckles rapped against the door, each second of silence dragging like an eternity.

“Please”, he whispered under his breath, his hand tightening into a fist. He knocked again, louder this time.

The sound of shuffling from the other side made his breath hitch. The door creaked open a moment later, and his heart stopped.

You stood there, a shadow of the person he remembered. Your hair was unkempt, matted in places, and your skin was pale and sallow. Dark circles hung under your eyes, which were red-rimmed and hollow. Your frame was gaunt, your clothes hanging loosely on your body as if they belonged to someone else.

Bucky froze, unable to form words, his throat tight with emotion. “Doll..” he breathed, the sound barely audible.

You stared at him for a long moment, and then a bitter laugh escaped your lips, sharp and hollow. “Well, look who finally decided to show up.”

The venom in your tone sliced through him. He stepped forward instinctively, but you raised a trembling hand to stop him, leaning heavily against the doorframe for support.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice soft but trembling with worry. His blue eyes darted over you, taking in every detail - the gauntness of your face, the trembling in your hands, the faint smell of alcohol that clung to you. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

Your laugh turned bitterer, harsher. “What’s going on? You’re asking me that?” You shook your head, your voice breaking. “You happened, Bucky. You left, and everything fell apart. Everything.”

“I didn’t know -” he started, his voice heavy with guilt, but you cut him off.

“Of course, you didn’t” you snapped, stepping back into the dimly lit apartment. “You were too busy saving the world to notice that your own world was crumbling.”

He stepped inside cautiously, his heart shattering as he took in the mess. Empty bottles of alcohol and pill packets were scattered on the coffee table and floor. The air was thick with the stench of neglect, a sour mix of spilled liquor and stale air. The curtains were drawn tightly, plunging the room into shadows despite the afternoon sun.

“Y/N..” His voice trailed off, his throat tightening as he stared at the devastation around him.

“Don’t say my name like that” you muttered, retreating further into the room. “Like you’re surprised. Like you didn’t cause this.”

“Cause this?” he repeated, stepping closer. His voice cracked, his words pleading. “Y/N, I didn’t know. If I’d known, I never -”

“But you didn’t!” you screamed, your voice cracking under the weight of your pain as you spun to face him. Your eyes, hollow yet blazing with anger, locked onto his, and Bucky swore he felt his heart shatter in his chest. “You weren’t here, Bucky. I called. I texted. Over and over, I begged you to come back. Do you know how many times I sat in this apartment, staring at my phone, praying for some sign that you were still out there? And where were you? Fighting someone else’s battles while my entire life was falling apart.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and Bucky flinched like you’d struck him. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. The look on your face - the raw betrayal, the fury - left him at a loss.

“I didn’t know” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I -”

“You didn’t know because you didn’t want to know” you spat, taking a step closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “You shut me out, Bucky. You didn’t care enough to see what was happening to me.”

“That’s not true” he said, his voice cracking as he tried to bridge the chasm between you. “I cared - I care! I thought I was doing what was right -”

“Right for who?” you interrupted, your voice venomous. “For you? For the Avengers? Because it sure as hell wasn’t right for me. Do you know what it’s like to wake up every day, and wonder if today is the day I’ll finally get that call, informing me that you're dead? To feel like you’re carrying the weight of everything, completely alone, while the person who promised to love you is nowhere to be found?”

Bucky’s face twisted in anguish, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “I didn’t know it was this bad” he murmured, his voice trembling. “If I’d known -”

“But you didn’t” you cut him off, your voice laced with bitterness. “You didn’t, because you weren’t here.”

He stepped toward you, his hands outstretched in a desperate plea. “Y/N, I’m here now. Please, let me -”

“Let you what?” you demanded, your voice rising as months of pent-up anger and heartbreak poured out of you. “Fix it? Make it better? You can’t, Bucky. You can’t just show up now, after everything, and expect me to be okay.”

“Please”, he whispered, his voice breaking. “Just tell me what happened. Let me understand.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and hollow. “You want to understand? You think you can fix this if I just lay it all out for you?”

His eyes searched yours, his expression raw and desperate. “I need to know” he said, his voice trembling. “I can’t lose you. Please, Y/N.”

You turned away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together. Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. He noticed your shallow breathing, the way your shoulders quaked.

“I lost everything” you finally said, your voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “Piece by piece, it all fell apart.”

Bucky’s chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you walked to the table, picking up an empty pill bottle and turning it over in your hand. “Do you know what it’s like to sit in the dark, wondering if you should just swallow one more and end it? Do you have any idea what it feels like to look at yourself in the mirror and hate the person staring back?”

He took a shaky step forward. “Y/N, don’t -”

“Don’t what?” you snapped, slamming the bottle down. “Don’t tell you the truth? You want to waltz back in here and play the hero, but you don’t even know the damage you left behind.”

His eyes flicked around the room, taking in the empty bottles, the crumpled blankets on the couch, the shattered picture frame on the floor. “I know I’ve hurt you” he said, his voice barely audible. “But I’m here now. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

You laughed again, but this time it turned into a sob. “You don’t get it” you said, shaking your head. “It’s not just me. It was never just me.”

He froze, his stomach twisting. “What are you saying?”

You turned to face him, tears streaming down your cheeks. “There was a baby, Bucky” you said, your voice trembling. “Our baby. And I lost it. I woke up in the middle of the night in pain, and there was blood - so much blood. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified, and I was alone. You weren’t there.”

The words hit him like a freight train, and his knees buckled. He sank to the floor, his head in his hands as he tried to process what you’d just said. “Oh, God” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Oh, God, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You stared at him, your chest heaving with sobs. “I needed you” you said, your voice cracking. “I needed you more than I’ve ever needed anyone, and you weren’t there.”

He looked up at you, his face streaked with tears, his expression raw and broken. “I failed you” he choked out. “I failed you and our baby. But please, Y/N, don’t shut me out. Let me stay. Let me try to make this right.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “You can’t make it right. You can’t bring the baby back. You can’t take away this pain.”

“No, I can’t” he said, his voice steady despite the tears. “But I can stay. I can be here for you, for us, if you’ll let me. I know I don’t deserve it, but please, Y/N. Don’t push me away.”

For a long moment, you stared at him, the war inside you raging. Finally, you sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. “I don’t know if I can do this”. you whispered.

He moved to sit beside you, his hand hovering over yours before gently taking it. “You don’t have to do it alone” he said softly. “Not anymore.”

And for the first time in months, you felt the faintest flicker of hope, a fragile ember in the darkness that had consumed you. It wasn’t an all-encompassing warmth or an instant relief, it was a hesitant, wavering thing, as if it might vanish at the slightest gust of doubt. But it was there. And after everything, even that small spark felt monumental.

You glanced down at his hand, rough and calloused yet so gentle as it cradled yours. His thumb brushed lightly against your skin, a quiet reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere. For so long, you’d felt untethered, drifting through a sea of pain and loss with no anchor, but now - sitting beside him, his presence steady and unwavering - you felt a faint sense of grounding.

“It’s going to take time” you whispered, your voice shaky but honest. “I don’t know if I can just.. move on. Some days, I don’t even know how to keep going.”

“You don’t have to do it all at once” he said softly, his voice steady despite the emotion that thickened it. “We’ll take it one day at a time. One step at a time. Together.”

The word together hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You searched his face, half-expecting to see doubt or hesitation, but his gaze was steady, unwavering. He meant it. He truly meant it.

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t purely born of sorrow. They were a mixture of grief and something softer, something tentative that you hadn’t dared to feel in months - trust. “I’m scared, Bucky”. you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“So am I” he confessed, his voice breaking just slightly. “I’m scared I’ll mess up again. Scared I won’t be enough to help you heal. But I promise you, doll, I’ll do everything I can. I’ll be here - no matter what.”

You nodded, letting his words sink in. They didn’t erase the pain or magically mend the wounds you carried, but they planted a seed of possibility. Maybe healing wasn’t about forgetting the hurt or pretending it didn’t exist. Maybe it was about facing it head-on, step by step, with someone by your side.

As you sat there, his presence anchoring you, the silence stretched but didn’t feel oppressive. It felt shared, almost comforting. His fingers tightened around yours slightly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

The road ahead would be long and painful, filled with memories that would resurface and wounds that might never fully close. But for now, you let yourself lean into the moment, into him, and the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way forward together. Not whole, not without scars, but together. And for now, that was enough.

[5targh0st]

NUMBER ONE GIRL

31. you're mine (written)

prev // m.list // next

Neither of you talk much, but you have a great time nonetheless. It's almost as if you both know what the other is thinking and words weren't exactly necessary. However, something similar to fear keeps you from letting go; fear of your feelings not being reciprocated, of saying the wrong thing, and of messing up the weird and comfortable relationship you've built.

However, little by little the awkwardness disappears and everything seems to fall into place. You joke around and laugh. Everything feels easier without the weight of expectations and labels hovering over you.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice drowned by his own laugh.

"What?" For some reason, you can't help but smile.

"Why were you hiding in the bathroom?" He seems nervous, "I got worried for a second."

"I wasn't hiding," you can feel your face hot. "I was talking to my friends. Don't ask." You try to laugh but it comes out as a sigh.

And just before you go on a rant about everything and reassure him that you weren't hiding from him, he smiles and reaches for your hand. He knows. You're not sure how, but he knows; he wouldn't be smiling like that if he didn't.

Dessert arrives and you're so lost in his presence that you barely notice how people have started to leave the place. Has he always been so alluring?

When you finally have to go, you reach for your card just to be left waiting. "We haven't paid."

"I did. I paid in advance so you wouldn't pull any funny tricks."

You want to argue and say it's not fair for him to pay every single time you hang out. Then it hits you, are you really hanging out? This whole dinner thing has turned out to be more date-like than you anticipated.

"There's something I want to show you..." His voice interrupts your spiraling.

You just nod and follow him back to his car. Of course, you won't say it out loud but you just realized you'd go basically anywhere with him. Are you supposed to feel like this? Is it wrong?

After a short drive, you finally arrive at the place he wanted to show you. It's a recording studio, although way different than the ones you have at school. This place has a lot more equipment and looks cozier.

"Is this like your personal studio?"

"Something like that," he explains turning on everything, "I share the place with Heesung."

"I didn't know he's also part of the music program."

"He's not. His parents are doctors so they wanted him to follow their steps and, after a lot of arguing and screaming, they compromised on psychology so Heesung could still have time for music."

"He sounds brave."

"He is, but don't tell him that, his ego is big enough as it is." He jokes, but you see the fondness in his eyes. He sure loves his friends.

"Like you're one to talk..."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

You both keep on bickering and laughing. Then silence sets in, but not the uncomfortable kind of silence, it's more like a natural kind of quietness. The same type of silence that comes before the sunrise; a breath of fresh air in the loudness of your lives.

"What did you want to show me?"

"Me."

You must look confused and maybe even concerned cause he laughs and looks away before explaining. "I know why your friends didn't like me, and I know at least one of them told you not to hangout with me or whatever.

I'm not saying they're wrong or that people misunderstand me, but they don't know the whole truth. They don't know me beyond the persona that, I confess, I've built to keep them out. But I want you to know me, all of me.

I'm an asshole, I was in love before and got my heart shattered, and I used that as an excuse to play around and maybe even hurt people. I'm not saying my actions were justified, but I did what I thought was necessary to not be hurt again..."

He is almost spiraling. This is the most honest he's ever been, but he sounds just so desperate.

"Yeonjun..."

"Please, let me finish. I like you. I'm not a good person, and I've hurt people and I'm a mess and I might fuck things up... and I like you. I know I was the one to say we should take things slow and see where it got us. From the moment I first laid eyes on you I knew you were gorgeous but now, after spending time with you and getting to know you a little, I like you and all of the things that make you who you are."

You don't know what to say. He likes you. You like him too, but you don't know how to say it or where to start. So kiss him.

You pull him in and he seems surprised. For a second you start to think that maybe you rushed a little with the physical contact but then you feel his arms engulf you and his lips moving against yours. Has he always been that good of a kisser? Your mind can't even begin to comprehend what got you here.

"I like you too..." you whisper when the contact stops. Too nervous to look at him.

"I kinda figured." He laughs and you feel his hands cupping your face and his thumb caressing your skin. Just a light touch.

"Shut up." You try to hide from his gaze.

He brings you closer and wraps his arms around you, as if he were scared you'd change your mind. "You ruined my speech, though. I even wrote a song so you'd hear about my feelings while I uncomfortably stare at you for four minutes straight."

You can't help but laugh, of course he would do something like that. "Play it for me."

"No way."

"Come on! I'll even pretend to be surprised and everything."

He gives in. Part of him thinks he'd say yes to anything you ask but that's a door he won't open yet. He just admitted he likes you, there'll be enough time in the future to worry about the intensity of his feelings.

he takes off his blazer and walks to the piano. "Please remember that you asked for it."

"You're doing great sweetie!"

He rolls his eyes and you can see his blush but he starts anyway, "This ain't for the best..."

His hands move swiftly yet hesitantly. It's been a while since he's felt so vulnerable. Your soft gaze follows his every movement and he can feel his skin getting warmer by the second. You smile for a moment enjoying the effect you had on him. Until he looks at you while singing.

Now you get it. It's not uncomfortable at all. It's rather intimate. Having someone so openly expressing his feelings for you in such an emotional moment makes you feel helpless and bare. It's almost magical.

"... delicate." He finishes and avoids your eyes.

"Don't get all shy on me now." You try to joke.

"I'm not shy!"

You bicker for a while and everything feels so natural. You don't know what made you feel so nervous at dinner, he's just Yeonjun.

"I do want you to know that I don't expect us to put a label on this right away." He explains while holding your hand. "I want us to go on dates and have like the whole experience. I wanna court you or whatever it is old people call it."

"I'd really like that." You can stop smiling. You didn't know it was possible to smile this much but here you are.

The drive home is different; the feeling of his hand in yours is comforting and yet it also makes you feel anxious. A good type of anxious though.

You talk about school and your plans for the week. It's all so natural and domestic, you've never felt like this before. Not even with Sunghoon. This is the first time you've let yourself be with someone after him and somehow it feels so much more real and authentic. Yeonjun doesn't make you feel as if you need to tone down who you are; you can just be yourself.

When you arrive at your apartment complex, he opens your door and tries best not to stutter while saying goodbye. You laugh and can't even figure out why. You're just so happy.

"See you tomorrow?" He asks shyly once you get out of the car.

"See you tomorrow." You confirm still holding on to his hand.

And then you seal your promise with a kiss...

notes:

I was so excited for this chapter

once again we love a communicative king

had an issue with the format but it's ok now

happy holidays btw

taglist: (32/50)

@estella-novella @poetryforthesad @lisaswifey @angelzforu @ihrtlix @gloriousqueenking @domfikeluva @circus-of-thoughts @conwunder @miniature-tragedy @jeonginplsholdmyhand @sh0dor1 @yourenzoo @tkshairband @realrintaro @castingjinx @amara-mars @hwangrfrnd

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 3: OF TRUE AND FALSE MEMORIES

synopsis: you hitch a ride to the heartlands. hopefully your driver doesn't mind you leeching for just a while longer.

word count: 3.6k

ships: Arthur Morgan/Modern!Reader, Van der Linde Gang & Reader

notes: hey ummm merry christmas eve here's an early present. also zion as a concept of faith is mentioned but i am not a zionist trust it's just that joshua graham is unfortunately a mormon 🙏

TOSoA taglist: @one-green-frog , @photo1030 , @mavenhavenn , @fathermarama , @its-yummi (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask <3!!)

THE OLD SOUL OF AMERICA MASTERLIST

You know the trail to Dead Horse Point well by now. Something is a bit different – but still, Joshua and Daniel and the Dead Horses and Sorrows welcome you and your mules, Rook and Bishop, all the same.

Follows-Chalk, Drumming-Storm, and a few other Dead Horses crowd the mules, offloading everything you had on them: books, kettles, blankets, guns (and accompanying black powder), tobacco, and alcohol. They mostly crowd Rook, as she’s the heavyweight of the two and carries more – Bishop’s more of a riding mule. The Dead Horses wander off soon after, arms full, taking everything to its respective place. 

Joshua approaches you, adjusting the bandages near his eyes to see you better. “You’ve got on well.”

“Yes, sir,” you say. “Happy Trails treats me well. I’m their employee, but I’m also their friend.”

“Yes, but this?” Joshua gestures at the people putting up what you’ve brought. “All this product? They must have put a lot of trust in you.”

“They put more trust in my steeds,” you say. “Both got some burro in them. And they can kick as hard as them, too – especially Bishop.”

“That, I don’t doubt,” Joshua says. 

You watch as Rook shakes her coat out, causing her carrying gear to jingle. Bishop wanders closer to Joshua, nudging at his shoulder and nipping at the bandages that cover Joshua’s arm. Joshua lifts his arm (slowly – again, he’s bandaged all over) and pats the side of Bishop’s face.

“They like it here,” you say. “Maybe it’s something about the canyon. Or maybe they just like you.”

“Zion is a godly place,” Joshua says. His voice, though deep and abrasive, carries a heavy tone of affection. “Wherever man may be, he always dreams of Zion. These creatures may share our same dreams.”

“That’d be nice,” you hum softly. You reach out and place your hand under Rook’s jaw, and she leans forward into your touch. Her big, brown eyes blink slowly as she looks at you, then around the campsite, like she’s appreciating the sight.

“We should probably get going,” you say. You look over at Joshua. “I need to load up on daturana and datura hide. That’s what Happy Trails wants in exchange, anyway.”

“Go talk to Winding-Path,” Joshua says. “She knows what you’re owed.”

When you look to your right, Follows-Chalk is hurrying over, a hand raised and a smile on his face. The painted markings on his face crease and stretch with his smile – rather than spider legs creeping up his cheeks, they look like laugh lines.

“Hoye!” He greets. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you, too,” you say. You reach out to grasp his hand, and as soon as you brush it – 

A bump in the road jolts you awake. You let out a small, confused sound, then settle. 

You’re in the back of a wagon, crammed between folded-up lodgings and kitchen supplies. Your knees are drawn to your chest, and your back is to the wooden side of the wagon. 

Before packing up and making yourself fit into the space left on the wagon, you weren’t really told much of anything. From what you’ve gathered, the men (“men” being the young-ish, able-bodied ones) robbed a train, and now you and the gang have to flee. It seems like you fit right in, because they have a penchant for pissing off the wrong people, just like you.

“Hey, you’re finally awake!” Hosea calls from the front, where he sits next to Arthur.

“Yeah.” You shift and take a quick, deep breath as you rub the sleep from your eyes. “Yeah, I’m up.”

“We’re nearly to the Heartlands,” Hosea says. He turns so that he’s facing you with his arm resting on the back of the seat. “You ever been there before?”

“No,” you say. You sway with the trail in the dirt road and the way Arthur drives. 

“We’re settling up in Horseshoe Overlook,” Hosea says. “It’s near a livestock town called Valentine – all mud and morons, if I remember right.”

“Huh,” you hum. You look away from Hosea and around you. 

It’s different from when you were up in Colter. It’s warmer, for one. The trees aren’t dredged in snow – instead, their branches are covered in leaves, each one green and upturned. Grasses and flowers sprout from the dirt ground, which is now soft and malleable instead of frozen and cold to the touch. Everything is just nicer. 

For a minute, you just listen to the sounds around you. It’s calm. Birdsong fills the air, and you can see animals bounding through the trees of the forest and grasses of the valleys (for the first time in a while, honestly – cities don’t lend themselves well to wildlife). 

What was that dream about? You wonder silently. I was… in the Dead Horses’ camp. But that place is completely fictional, even in this… timeline? Coma-fever-something dream? I don’t even know at this point.

You hear the sound of moving water and look to the front. Arthur is guiding the horses into a stream, which the rest of the caravan has cleared without a problem. 

In the middle of the water, you feel a shock and hear something break. You clutch to the side of the wagon and feel that the driving is a little… off.

“Get us out the stream,” Hosea says. “You gotta keep us moving, but calm.”

Did you just ask Arthur to be calm? You shout in your head. Arthur is the epitome of everything that isn’t calm! He barely feels things, and when he does, he’s meaner than a gas station tweaker – and he’s not even on anything!

Arthur (yes, carefully, you’ll admit) pulls the wagon out of the stream. Just as he does, you feel another shock and a shift. You scramble to hold onto a canister as it nearly falls out of the back of the wagon. 

“Ah, shit!” Arthur curses. He draws the wagon to a stop.

“Okay, let’s take a look,” Hosea says. 

You move and shift the items so that they’re pushed further up the wagon, where you were sitting just before. You hop off the back of the wagon. Sure enough, the wheel has just popped itself right off. 

“You alright back there?” Bill calls from up ahead. 

“Does everything look alright?” Arthur snaps as he hops off the driver’s seat. 

You can see Javier shift in his seat in the wagon ahead of yours, trying to get a better look. “Well, what’s going on?”

Arthur walks closer to you, accessing the damage. He throws a hand up in the air and groans. “I broke the goddamn wheel!”

“Alright!” Hosea chimes. “Let’s get it fixed.” 

“You need help?” Javier calls. 

Hosea waves him off with a hand. “I reckon we can handle it.”

You quickly step back as he and Charles make their way to the back of the wagon. Arthur hoists up the wheel so he can roll it towards the wagon. Hosea and Charles pick up the back, and Arthur forces the wheel back into place. 

You hurry over and pick up a crate, putting it in the wagon. You hop up into the bed of the wagon and take a small chest from Charles, placing it where it belongs.

“Hey, look at you.” Arthur says as he checks the back of the wagon. “You ain’t so useless after all.”

“O-oh,” you say after a second. “You’re talking to me?”

“I am.” He looks up at you. The brim of his hat casts a harsh shadow that partly obscures his eyes. “Did I… offend you, somehow?”

“No, no!” You laugh nervously and take another crate from Charles. “I just wasn’t sure. Sorry.”

“Uh-huh,” Arthur hums. 

“Hold on,” Hosea almost hisses. 

You look over at him, and he’s looking to the side. You follow his eyes and see three figures on the ridge of a cliff, each perched on a horse. You can barely make out their facial features, but they look like Native Americans.

“What you think?” Arthur says lowly. 

“If they wanted trouble, we wouldn’t have seen them,” Charles says. 

“Poor bastards…” Hosea raises his arm and waves, but doesn’t call out to them. “We really screwed them over down here.”

Yeah… You think to yourself, still looking at the figures on horseback. It’s not much better in the future, either. I’d tell you all the details, but then I’d be put in an asylum.

“Come on,” Hosea says. “Let’s not push our luck.”

You take your eyes away from the figures. Instead, you help Charles pack up the last of what’s meant to go in the back of the wagon. 

As Arthur and Hosea hop on the front of the wagon, you make yourself comfortable on top of a trunk. Charles sits across from you on a rectangular crate. 

“Not too far now. Stay on this trail,” Hosea instructs Arthur. “We’ll follow the river, then cut left inland.”

You look around as Hosea starts telling Arthur about how the poor the natives were treated in this area. “Stolen clean away from them it was, every blade of grass,” he says. Even though it’s wrong (reprehensible, even), you understand why white men wanted this country. It’s breathtakingly beautiful – or maybe it just looks that way because it’s not what you’re used to. It’s not asphalt and smog and a concrete jungle in place of real land that lives and breathes.

“I heard some of the army out here was particularly, uh…” Hosea thinks for a second. “Unpleasant about it.”

“Unpleasant?” Charles echoes. “How do you rob and kill people pleasantly?”

“You… say please?” You try to joke. “And thank you?”

“Something like that!” Hosea laughs. “That’s the perfect way to simplify something more complicated for the benefit of our blockheaded driver here.” 

You cringe a little. You don’t really want to be roped in while Hosea’s insulting Arthur so freely and carelessly. 

“Hey, don’t blame nothin’ on me,” Arthur says. “Never forget, y’all – this here’s a conman, born and bred. Just ‘cause it sounds fancy don’t mean he knows a damn thing ‘bout what he’s talkin’ ‘bout.”

A nice pseudo-quiet settles over all four of you. (Pseudo because while it’s true that none of you are talking, the noise of the forest around you fills that silence well.)

“So…” Arthur starts. “Charles. What happened to your tribe?”

“I don’t even know if I have one. Least, not that I can remember,” Charles says. “My father was a colored man. They told me he lived with our people for a while – a number of free men did – but… when we were forced to move from our lands, the three of us fled. I was too young to really remember much.” 

His expression hardens a little. “All my life I’ve been on the run.”

You feel your face twist a bit and a pang of empathy. Empathy – not sympathy. You don’t feel pity for Charles. You know a feeling familiar to his. Maybe you weren’t literally pushed from your land, but you sure as hell know how it feels – skipping from shelter to warming center to temporary housing to shelter.

Addicts, even child addicts and children of addicts, are liabilities. You were a liability.

Charles’ voice brings you from your thoughts. “A couple years later, some soldiers captured my mother. Took her somewhere. We never saw her again. We drifted around. My father was a very sad man, and the drink had a mean hold on him. Around thirteen… I just took off on my own.”

His eyes flit over to meet yours. “What’s that look for?”

“Sorry.” You duck your head and look off to the side. “It’s just… I understand.”

You leave it hanging at that. Then, you look at Charles out of the corner of your eye. He’s waiting for you to continue. You glance at Hosea and Arthur. Neither have turned around to look at you, but you can tell they’re waiting, too. 

“My dad wasn’t around. Like, at all,” you say. “And my mom liked to go to trap houses to get stoned out of her goddamn mind.”

“Trap houses?” Hosea echoes. “What d’you mean by that?”

A cold shock shoots down your spine as you remember that, yeah – this is 1899! And you’re from the future! And you can’t let slip that you’re from the 21st century!

“A trap house is a house where people go to buy and sell drugs,” you say as you think of a lie. “Sorry – it’s slang from the Frontier, I guess. Hasn’t made its way eastward yet.”

“Huh,” Hosea hums. “And what did you do before you found yourself here? If you don’t mind my asking.”

The dream! The dream! Your mind screams at you. Remember the dream!

“I worked for a company called Happy Trails Caravan,” you lie. “Had two mules – Rook and Bishop. I spent most of my time travelling alone, and delivering to the tribes in the Mojave.”

“And how was that?” Hosea asks. “I can’t imagine travelling all the time leaving a lot of room for friends.”

“Oh, yeah. It was nice, but still a little lonely,” you say. “I started doing more local runs across the north of the Mojave around six or seven years ago. Made friends with some of the tribes in Zion Canyon. I started working that job when I was maybe… fourteen? And spent around a decade going cross-country before I did more local deliveries.”

“That was about the age we found young Arthur here – maybe a little older,” Hosea says. “A wilder delinquent you never did see! But he learned fast.”

Arthur scoffs. “Not as fast as Marston, apparently.”

You and Charles exchange a look and he speaks up. “I don’t understand. What’s the problem between you two?”

“Eh…” Arthur shrugs. “It’s a long story.”

You cup a hand by your mouth and half-whisper to Charles. “Marston’s the wolf guy, right?”

He just nods in response. You drop your hand and lean back, looking around at the scenery again. Arthur leads the wagon right by the wall of a sheer cliff drop. You look up at the ridge and the trees silhouetted there. 

“We still headed the right way?” Arthur says. 

“That depends,” Hosea says. “Are we still heading west, in search of fortune and repose in virgin forests, as we planned? No. Are we heading in the correct direction on our desperate escape from the law, eastwards down the mountains? Yes, I believe so.”

You smile to yourself a little. You don’t really know him all that well, but so far, Hosea’s shaping up to be one of the people you can trust. If not, he’s a nice storyteller, at least. You guess that counts for something.

“You know this area?” Charles asks. 

“A little. I’ve been through a couple of times. There’s a livestock town not too far from here, called Valentine.” Hosea hooks his thumb over his shoulder at you. “Was telling them and Arthur about it earlier. Cowboys, outlaws, working girls. Our kinda place.”

“O’Driscolls?” Arthur asks. 

“Probably them too,” Hosea says.

“Pinkertons?”

“Let’s hope not.” 

“And this place we’re going…” Arthur shifts, giving the reins a light snap. “Wait, what’s it called again?”

You turn and watch the riverbed pass by as they continue to talk. The place is called Horseshoe Overlook, like Hosea told you earlier. They talk about the Blackwater job and about Dutch doing things that weren’t like him. (That confuses you a bit. He’s a nice guy, as far as you can tell. But everyone has their limit, and from what you can infer, the ferry was Dutch’s limit.) A few more sentences later, you get the distinct feeling you shouldn’t be listening in on this conversation. Instead, you turn to Charles. 

“Are you doing okay?” You ask. 

“I’m fine,” Charles says. “Do I… not look okay?”

You laugh awkwardly and scratch your cheek. “No, no. I’m just… asking to be polite.”

His eyebrows draw together a little and he frowns a bit. “Okay.”

You inhale deeply and draw your lips into a thin line, then nod, then look away. 1899 is such a weird year to be alive. Or… to be in a coma in? Like, you’re in a coma and your coma dream is set in 1899. This is so confusing.

Javier’s voice from up ahead breaks your thoughts (and keeps you from going into a spiral, really). 

“There you are, brother!” He points further down the trail. “Head in there and follow the track for a bit.”

“Thanks,” Arthur says. 

“Hey, slow up,” Javier calls. “I’ll jump on.”

Javier catches up as Arthur slows down. He hops up onto the tailgate step, holding onto the side of the wagon for extra support. You give him a smile and he nods in return. 

“Any trouble getting in here, Javier?” Hosea asks from up front. 

“No, it went well,” Javier says. “This is a good spot.”

“Excellent!” Hosea says. “I think this’ll work for us. For now, anyway.”

You lean to the side and watch as Horseshoe Overlook comes into view. It’s a nice spot, like Javier said. Some of the grass has already been worn down from all the recent moving around the people and the horses have been doing. A few tents have already been set up, but not all of them.

“Here we are, folks,” Hosea says. “Home, sweet home.”

“You weren’t wrong, Hosea!” Dutch calls from inside the camp. “This place… is perfect.”

Hosea climbs off, and you take that as a hint to get off and start unloading. Charles looks inside the trunk you were sitting on before and tells you that it’s bedding. You take it from him and head over to the tents. 

Most of the rest of the day passes like that. Everything needs to be unpacked and worked on. There was a small interruption when Dutch got up on his soapbox and gave a quick speech about everyone pitching in. He told the gang their fake backstory – that you and the rest of them are a group of itinerant workers whose factory got shut down up north. 

Evening comes quietly and quickly, and night follows it. The sheer drop on the outskirts of camp serves as a nice place to sit and think. 

The stars are so much more bright than they are back in your time. (Your time? Or is it real life? Waking life? Who knows? And, at this point, who cares?) They twinkle and blink and almost seem to dance. They group together and look like they’re spilling from one center source. The moon is nice and full on the horizon. You can see the craters and indents in her surface. It’s like you’re looking up at millions of silver nails driven into dark blue velvet, with the white head of a spike serving as the moon. It’s beautiful, for lack of better words. 

“Hey.”

You gasp and tense, glancing over your shoulder. It’s Arthur. 

You return to looking up at the sky. “Jesus… What do you want?”

“Charles told me to ask you if you’ve eaten,” Arthur says. “Well? Have you?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “I’m good.”

Even though you think the conversation is over, you can still feel Arthur behind you. It seems that these people either don’t know how to end a conversation or it’s just different in 1899. 

“The stars.” You glance over your shoulder at Arthur, then away again. “I’m… I’m looking at the stars. If you were curious.”

“Uh huh?” Arthur hums. “And what’s so fascinating about them stars?”

“It’s just that, uh… I couldn’t see them as well out west,” you say. “Where I’m from. Here, I can see them so clearly. They look so real.”

Like I could just reach out and touch them… I mean, this is a coma or something like that. Maybe I could. Maybe I can. 

“I mean, I know they’re real,” you say, your voice laced with laughter. “I’m not – I’m not stupid. They’re just pretty. That’s all.”

“Whatever you say,” Arthur says. 

He steps forward into your peripheral vision. You glance at him, then away, like a child after they’ve been scolded for staring. You push down the instinct to shrink away and look at him.

He takes out a hand-rolled cigarette and puts it between his lips. He strikes a match with the bottom of his boot and lights it. The cherry of the cigarette lights up his face, casting warm light and soft shadows. 

“You want one?” Arthur asks. 

“Huh?” You blink, then look away. “No. No, thank you. I don’t smoke.”

“If you say so,” he says. 

You can see Arthur look up at the stars out of the corner of your eye. He takes a deep drag from his cigarette, then exhales the smoke through his nose. The cherry of the cigarette flickers, then resumes glowing softly. 

You join him in looking up. Sure enough, the stars are still there, and the stars are still real. All seem to spill from a single source. The moon is a little higher above the horizon – no longer touching it, but hovering in the sky. 

��Usually, you’d never get moments like this. You’d usually work from sunrise until sunset and pick up extra shifts and overtime where you could. It’s nice to see the world like this. Natural. Raw. Even if you have to ignore Arthur’s presence extra-hard, you still manage to enjoy the moment. 

Everything’s just so slow back… then? Back now? Back now. Everything’s so slow back now. It’s like a break. A break from the jackrabbit-style, too-quick, so-fast-it’ll-give-you-a-heart-attack type of living you’re used to. A forced break, but a break nonetheless.

Breaks are nice. You watch a star flicker, twinkle, then blink into darkness. 

Maybe you should take breaks more often. 

[bokutosbabe]

It said requests are open so here I am 🥲 no need to do it if you're busy 😅❤️

My top song was Because by Changbin and Felix and top artist was Stray kids (I mean I was crazy about them this year but still Lana has a special place in my heart 😭💕)

Thank you for your awesome writing! 🌟✨🔥

Hi!!

if your top song was Because by Changbin and Felix, I'd pair you with...

rensuke kunigami

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i want nothing more

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event - masterlist -

♡ content — rensuke kunigami x gn! reader, gn! reader, post-wildcard kunigami, manga spoilers!!!, kunigami knows he's changed, established relationship

♡ synopsis — kunigami rensuke wasn't the same as when he left, but you don't care. you'd be by his side through hell if he wanted you to be.

It’s late, and the room is quiet except for the faint hum of the heater kicking in. You’re sitting on the edge of Kunigami’s couch, fiddling with the sleeve of your sweater, watching him out of the corner of your eye. He’s barely spoken since he got back from his workout—just a clipped “I’m back,” before he disappeared to shower. Now he sits across from you, his body rigid, his sharp eyes fixed on the floor, lost in thought.

He’s different now. You knew that the moment you saw him again after Blue Lock. The warmth in his gaze had been replaced by something harder, darker. His voice, once steady and calm, now carried an edge, as if every word cost him something.

But tonight, he seems... tired. Not in the physical sense—Kunigami’s body is as strong as ever, maybe even stronger—but something inside him feels frayed, like he’s spent too long keeping it all together.

“Rensuke,” you say softly, leaning forward. He doesn’t look up. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he mutters.

You sigh. This was becoming a pattern. You’d ask, he’d deflect, and the distance between you would stretch a little further each time. But tonight, something in you snaps. You can’t let him keep shutting you out.

“It’s not nothing,” you press, your voice firmer now. “You’ve been like this for weeks—barely talking, barely looking at me. I know things are different, but—”

“They’re not different,” he cuts in sharply, his head snapping up to meet your gaze. His eyes are blazing now, frustration and something else—guilt, maybe?—swirling in them. “I’m different. And you know it.”

You stare at him, your heart aching at the weight in his words. He looks away again, his jaw clenched tight, his hands balled into fists on his knees.

“You didn’t used to be like this,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “You used to let me in. You used to—”

“I can’t be that person anymore,” he interrupts, his voice low, almost a growl. “That person is gone. And I can’t... I can’t go back.”

The silence that follows is deafening. You feel the sting of his words like a slap, but you also see the cracks forming in his armor—the way his shoulders sag, the way his fists loosen slightly.

“Maybe you can’t go back,” you say quietly, moving to sit beside him. “But you don’t have to shut me out, Rensuke. I’m still here. I still...” You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. “I still care about you. No matter how much you’ve changed.”

He exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath this whole time. For a moment, you think he’s going to push you away again, but then his head drops into his hands, his fingers tangling in his hair.

“I don’t know how to do this anymore,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to be with you when I don’t even know who I am.”

Your chest tightens at the vulnerability in his words. Slowly, you reach out, your hand hovering over his shoulder before finally resting there. He flinches at the contact but doesn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” you say softly. “I’m here, Rensuke. I’ve always been here.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, he turns to look at you. His eyes are still filled with conflict, but there’s something else there now too—something softer, more familiar.

He doesn’t say anything, but the way he leans into your touch speaks volumes. It’s not a resolution, not yet. But it’s a start.

And for now, that’s enough.

wildcard kunigami i hate and love you all the same

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[monkishes]

Friendly Fire | 02

genre: jungkookxreader, jiminxreader, college!au, best friend!au

summary: You and Jungkook had been friends for quite some time, and it seemed like everyone around you could sense the spark between you. They noticed the playful banter and affectionate gazes he directed your way. However, you were completely oblivious to it all, thinking that your relationship with Jungkook was purely platonic. Little did you know, things were about to get complicated. Enter Jimin, who developed a crush on you. This unexpected turn of events stirred up some jealousy in Jungkook. What will happen next?

word count: 6518

warnings: lots of jealousy, jk is oblivious to his feelings but very flirtatious, can’t keep his hands to himself, exams😖, oc has a fear of failing, strict parents

authors notes: okay this took me foreverrrrr and i really need to start writing the other fics but im just so excited for this one.. hope y’all enjoyyyyyy. this was unedited and kind of rushed so ignore any errors, i hate skl so much its taking up most of my time sorry guys

series masterlist / previous / next

Jungkook drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he watched you disappear into your apartment. He let out a long sigh, shifting in his seat. Something about the whole night had left him feeling off. It wasn't that he liked you—he didn't. You were just Y/N, his friend. But still, the thought of you getting all flustered around Jimin, of Jimin flirting with you, had irritated him more than he'd expected.

He turned the key in the ignition, the quiet hum of the engine filling the car as he pulled away from your building and headed toward his place. His mind kept drifting back to the way Jimin had teased him, how he'd made it seem like Jungkook had some claim over you. That wasn't it. He didn't care if you dated someone, it wasn't his business. But someone like Jimin? One of his closest friends? That was a different story.

Jungkook wasn't protective over you in the romantic sense, but there was a boundary there, unspoken but important. He didn't want his friends getting involved with you. It wasn't jealousy—it was more like... discomfort. He would never get involved with any of your friends. He knew Jimin could be flirty, and the last thing Jungkook wanted was for things to get messy between you and his circle.

As he drove through the quiet streets, the city lights flickering past, he tried to shake off the feeling. You'd probably think he was being ridiculous if you knew how much he'd overthought the whole thing. But you were his friend—he just wanted to make sure you weren't getting mixed up in something that would hurt you later.

By the time he pulled up in front of his apartment, the tension in his chest had eased slightly. He parked, leaned back in his seat for a moment, and stared out at the dimly lit street. His phone buzzed in the center console, and he picked it up, glancing at the screen.

Jimin.

Jungkook rolled his eyes but smirked a little, knowing exactly what the call was going to be about. He hit answer and put the phone on speaker as he stepped out of the car.

"Hey, man," Jimin's voice came through, casual but with that familiar teasing edge. "Did you drop off our girl safely?"

Jungkook kicked the door shut and walked toward his building, shaking his head. "She's not our girl. And yeah, I did."

There was a pause, then a laugh from Jimin's side. "Come on, don't tell me you're still pissed about earlier. I was just messing around."

Jungkook sighed as he unlocked his apartment door and stepped inside, flicking on the lights. "I'm not pissed. Just—" He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want you messing with her."

"Messing with her?" Jimin repeated, sounding amused. "Dude, I wasn't even serious. Y/N's cool, but I know you're protective of her."

"I'm not protective," Jungkook said quickly, dropping his keys onto the kitchen counter. "It's just... she's my friend. I don't want her getting involved with any of you guys and then having things go south."

Jimin chuckled, clearly not taking it as seriously as Jungkook. "Man, you're making it sound like I'm planning to date her or something. I was just having a little fun."

Jungkook frowned, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, well, I don't want her to get the wrong idea. She doesn't know you like I do. You flirt with everyone, and she might take it seriously."

There was a beat of silence before Jimin responded, his tone a bit more thoughtful now. "So what, you're saying she's off-limits?"

Jungkook let out a frustrated breath, trying to find the right words. "I'm not saying she's off-limits, I'm just saying... she's not like other girls you flirt with. She's—she's Y/N, okay? She's not into that kind of stuff."

"You sound like you're her big brother or something," Jimin teased, though his tone was more serious now. "Look, I get it. You're looking out for her. But, Jungkook, if you don't have feelings for her, why do you care so much if she ends up liking one of us?"

Jungkook froze for a second, caught off guard by the question. He hadn't really thought about it that way before. It wasn't like he had feelings for you, but the idea of you dating one of his friends—especially Jimin—just didn't sit right with him.

"I don't care if she dates someone," Jungkook said finally, his voice a bit tighter than he intended. "I just don't want her to get hurt."

Jimin was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "Okay, okay, I get it. I'll back off. I didn't realize you were this serious about it."

Jungkook relaxed a little, relieved that Jimin was taking him seriously now. "Thanks, man. I just don't want things to get weird."

"Fair enough," Jimin agreed. "But you might want to figure out why you care so much, 'cause from where I'm sitting, it's looking a little sus."

Jungkook scoffed, rolling his eyes even though Jimin couldn't see him. "There's nothing sus about it. I just don't want things to get complicated."

"Whatever you say, bro," Jimin replied, clearly not convinced but willing to let it go for now. "Anyway, I'll catch you later. Try not to overthink it too much, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jungkook muttered, ending the call and tossing his phone onto the couch.

As he sat down, the conversation played over in his mind. He wasn't overthinking it—he was just being a good friend. Looking out for you. That's all it was.

Jungkook stretched out on his bed, tossing his phone back and forth between his hands, his mind finally starting to quiet down.

His phone buzzed, and he saw your name pop up on the screen. Smiling, he answered, putting it on speaker as he lay back on his pillows.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice casual.

"Hey, Jeon," you replied, sounding a little tired but upbeat. "You home?"

"Yeah, just got back a bit ago. You?"

"Yup, finally in bed," you said with a sigh. "You think Professor Kim is really gonna hit us with that pop quiz tomorrow? I saw him smiling way too much in class today. Suspicious."

Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head. "He's definitely planning something. That guy enjoys watching us struggle."

You groaned dramatically. "Ugh, I'm so not prepared for that. I barely understood anything from last week's lecture."

"Did you even take notes?" Jungkook teased, knowing full well you tended to zone out in class.

"I did! Sort of...," you trailed off, and he could practically see you rolling your eyes. "I'll just copy yours tomorrow. You've got me, right?"

Jungkook laughed softly, the familiar ease of your conversations calming him down. "Yeah, yeah. I've got you. You always say that and then somehow ace the test anyway."

"Not without your help," you mumbled, and Jungkook could hear you settling deeper into your blankets, your voice getting softer.

"Anyways, you're coming to watch me play tomorrow right?" he perks up, trying to lighten the mood.

"There's no way I'd miss it."

He laughs, suddenly feeling giddy at the prospect of you coming to watch him. "Good, if you didn't come I would be sooo mad at you."

You giggle softly at that idea, Jungkook never gets mad, at least not at you. "Yeah, okay Kook." you teased, but your voice was trailing off, your exhaustion suddenly taking over.

Jungkook notices this, a soft smile playing on his face. "Alright, go to sleep. You're gonna need energy for that test tomorrow."

"Ugh, don't remind me," you mumbled, already half asleep. "Night, Jungkook."

"Night," he replied, waiting until he heard the soft click of the call ending before tossing his phone onto the bed beside him.

The next day, you and Jungkook found yourselves sitting in your usual spots near the back of the classroom, waiting for Professor Kim to start class. The room was buzzing with chatter, students exchanging notes and nervously talking about the possibility of a quiz. You were slouched over your notebook, flipping through pages, trying to cram in last-minute review, while Jungkook sat beside you, far too relaxed for your liking.

"You think we're actually getting that quiz?" you whispered, glancing over at him.

Jungkook smirked, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Oh, it's not just a quiz," he said, his voice low so only you could hear. "It's a full-on test. I saw him carrying in a stack of papers when I came in."

You groaned, dropping your head dramatically onto your notebook. "I'm so screwed."

Jungkook chuckled, nudging your arm with his elbow. "You should've studied with me."

"Don't even," you muttered, lifting your head just as Professor Kim walked in, shuffling the dreaded stack of test papers in his hands. Your stomach dropped.

"Good morning, class," Professor Kim announced with a suspiciously cheerful tone. "I hope you're all ready for today's test."

You glanced at Jungkook, who gave you a smug look, as if to say I told you so. You shot him a glare in return.

As Professor Kim passed out the tests, Jungkook leaned over slightly. "Just stay calm, Y/N. You'll be fine."

"I'll be calm when this is over," you whispered back, staring at the paper in front of you like it was a death sentence.

The room soon fell silent, except for the occasional shuffling of papers and the soft scratching of pens. You took a deep breath, flipping through the pages of the test, immediately feeling the pressure mount. The first few questions were doable, but by the time you hit the midpoint, it was like the words on the page were written in a foreign language.

You glanced over at Jungkook. He was scribbling away confidently, barely pausing as he moved through the questions with ease. Of course, he looked completely unbothered, like this was just another walk in the park. You could even see the faintest smirk playing on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed, and he must have felt your gaze because he glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow. When he saw the look of panic on your face, his smirk widened, and he gave a subtle shake of his head, clearly amused by your struggle.

You mouthed, "Help me!" exaggerating your expression for effect.

Jungkook chuckled softly, shaking his head again. He leaned slightly closer and whispered under his breath, "Just focus."

You rolled your eyes, going back to your test. But focusing was the last thing you could do. Every time you got stuck on a question, you'd glance over at Jungkook again, and every time, he was still breezing through the test, like he was taking a casual quiz and not a full-blown assessment. It was infuriating.

After a few minutes of watching you squirm, Jungkook finally tilted his paper just slightly, making sure only you could see the edge of it. It wasn't enough to give away the answers, but it was enough to show you the format, which was a tiny bit helpful.

You caught on immediately, shooting him a grateful look. He just winked at you, clearly enjoying the situation way too much.

The rest of the test dragged on painfully, and by the time you reached the last page, your brain felt like mush. Meanwhile, Jungkook had already finished and was lounging back in his chair, stretching lazily as if the test had been no big deal. He shot you another amused glance, raising an eyebrow as if to say, See? Easy.

You were dying to toss something at him.

Finally, Professor Kim called time, and you let out a long breath as you handed in your test. Jungkook was waiting for you at the door, his hands shoved into his pockets, an infuriating grin on his face.

"So," he said casually as you walked out of the classroom together, "how was it?"

You shot him a look. "You're enjoying this way too much."

He chuckled, nudging your shoulder lightly. "Hey, you're the one who didn't study."

"I was going to, but you didn't exactly offer to help," you shot back, still frustrated by how easy it had been for him.

"I told you to stay calm," he said with a playful grin, clearly unfazed by your annoyance.

You groaned again, but even you couldn't stay mad at him for long. It was classic Jungkook—breezing through everything with a smile on his face while you struggled just to keep up. And despite yourself, you couldn't help but laugh a little as the two of you walked down the hallway together.

"Next time, you're helping me study," you declared, glancing up at him.

"Deal," he said, his grin widening. "But only if you promise to take better notes."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I'm starting to think you enjoy watching me suffer."

"Maybe just a little," he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

As you and Jungkook made your way down the hall, the usual buzz of campus life surrounded you. Students were rushing between classes, chatting in groups, or buried in their phones, but you were still thinking about the test you'd just barely survived.

Jungkook, of course, was in a good mood, walking beside you with that annoyingly smug look on his face. Just as you were about to tease him about how much he was enjoying your misery, a familiar voice called out.

"Yo, Jungkook! Y/N!" Taehyung appeared, striding toward the two of you, his usual carefree grin plastered on his face. Jimin was right behind him, looking effortlessly cool as always.

"Hey," Jungkook greeted them, stopping in his tracks as they reached you. "What's up?"

Taehyung grinned, leaning against the lockers. "Just heading to class, but I saw you two and figured we'd say hi."

Jimin's eyes landed on you, his gaze lingering for a second longer than usual. He smiled warmly. "Hey, Y/N," he said, his voice smooth. "Heard you had a test, how'd it go?

You sighed dramatically, already feeling the weight of your grade pulling you down. "Oh, it was awful. I know I failed."

Jimin chuckled, stepping a little closer. "Really? I can't imagine you struggling with anything. You probably did better than you think."

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. Jimin was always friendly, but today there was a slight edge to it, something more than the usual casual banter. His eyes flicked to Jungkook briefly before landing back on you.

"I doubt it," you laughed, feeling a little flustered by the compliment. "But thanks for the confidence boost."

Jimin smirked, his eyes still locked on you. "Anytime."

Just then, Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the shoulder. "We're heading to the art building. Where are you guys off to?"

"I'm going to bio," you said, glancing at your phone to check the time. "It's across campus, though."

"I can walk you—" Jungkook starts, your gaze shifting towards him, but he immediately gets interrupted by Jimin's voice.

Jimin perked up, a slight glint of interest in his eyes. "Really? I'm heading that way too. I can walk with you, if you want."

You smiled, appreciating the offer. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

Before you could say anything else, Jungkook, who had been watching the whole exchange, nodded. "Alright, then. You guys go ahead," he said, his tone relaxed. "I'll catch you later, Y/N."

His easygoing attitude surprised you, but you figured he was just in a good mood after breezing through the test. He turned to Taehyung, and the two of them started walking in the opposite direction.

"Bye, Jungkook!" you called, waving after him. He shot you a quick wave without looking back, too busy joking around with Taehyung.

Jimin gave you a nod, gesturing for you to lead the way. "Shall we?"

You began walking at a comfortable pace, a comfortable silence settling down amongst the both of you. Or at least, you didn't mind the silence.

You could feel him glancing towards your face every so often, and when you turned to look, he just smiled innocently, turning his gaze straight ahead.

The silence started to grow awkward, until Jimin cleared his throat, as if preparing to bring up something he'd been thinking about for a while. "So.." he began, "Do you like Jungkook?"

Laughing at the absurdity of that idea, you meet his eyes once more, "What?" you said, your voice still laced with laughter. "No way, Jungkook's just a friend. Why would you ask that?"

Jimin smiled but didn't meet your eyes this time, running a hand through his hair, making him seem both casual but also nervous. "I don't know," he shrugged, he voice growing quieter. "It seems like he has a little crush on you. The way he looks at you, how he's always around you.."

You blinked, the idea catching you completely off guard. "No, me and him are just friends. He's like that with everyone." you replied, shaking your head firmly.

Jimin gave you a knowing smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Is he, though?" his tone was playful, but you suddenly grew irritated. You were sick of people assuming that someone had a crush on the other, or you were dating, when it was clearly not the case.

"He's like a brother to me, Jimin."

He chuckled, his gaze finally locking onto yours, his smile widening as he tilted his head. "A brother, huh?" he questions, never taking his eyes off you.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you pick up the pace, leaving Jimin a little further behind.

He immediately picks up his pace too, catching back up to you. "Hey, relax, I'll drop it." his hand rests on your shoulder as his playful tone from earlier drops, his voice now laced with sincerity. "I was just joking, Y/N. I didn't mean to offend you."

"I know. I'm not offended." you mumble, trying to appear as unbothered as you can, your hands reaching to fumble with the straps of your bag.

"Okay," his hand drops from your shoulder, resting at his side once again. "Besides, even if Jungkook has a crush, it's not like you don't have other options." He finishes, quite obviously referring to himself.

You laughed again, the annoyance fading away ever so slightly. "I'll keep that in mind, Jimin. But for now I'm happy with being just friends."

He smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "Fair enough. But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

Bio dragged on at a painfully slow pace. The steady tick of the clock became your only focus, each second pulling your attention away from the jumble of textbooks and papers spread across your desk. The classroom was unusually quiet today, so every sound created was amplified; the tapping and clicking of pens, the rustling of sheets of papers, the occasional murmur of whispered conversations.

Your leg bounced restlessly beneath the table, anxiety suddenly overcoming you. Not only were you struggling in chemistry, you were struggling in biology too. Your eyes wandered to the people in the class, who got on with their tasks with ease. Even with a textbook open in front of you, you were confused.

You sighed inwardly, frustration settling in. There's no one else to blame but yourself, of course. After all the times you zoned out in class, and never payed attention, how could you even expect to understand the basics? The realisation hit you like a wave, a reminder that when you go home, you'd have no choice but to study.

Eventually, the hour passed after a long time of blankly staring at the ticking clock. You immediately grabbed a hold of your belongings, stuffing them into your bag and throwing it over your shoulder before exiting the room. You let out a sigh, a yawn escaping your body. Right now, all you wanted to do was take a nap. Luckily for you, it was the end of the day, you could finally leave.

You suddenly felt nauseous, a sickening feeling bubbling within your stomach as you remembered how much you struggled in not one but two classes. The image of your parents disappointment haunted you as you stormed into your locker, yanking it open and tossing your books inside with more force than necessary. You slammed it shut, your frustration rising.

As you did so, Jungkook appeared out of nowhere to the right of your locker, his eyes fixated on you with scrunched up brows.

You sighed again, glancing once towards his face and again towards the exit. Your legs dragged you towards the huge doors, but Jungkook was quick to follow behind you.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he walks up in front of you, gesturing towards his clothing. You noticed his attire from the morning was discarded, and instead replaced with the jersey he wore during his basketball games.

"Fuck, Kook, I completely forgot." you groaned, gripping your temples in frustration.

"Damn, Y/N. I reminded you everyday for the past week." His tone was serious, but you could catch the hint of a joke laced within his voice as he playfully shook his head.

It didn't take him long to notice your unusual state. Jungkook leaned forward, softly grabbing onto your shoulder with one hand while the other reached up to your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb across. "Whats wrong? You okay?" he asks, concern laced across his features.

"Nothing, I'm just tired." you admitted, although it wasn't the whole truth, it was still something.

His eyes look over your face, studying you. His hands now firmly rested on your shoulders. "You're a bad liar, Y/N. What happened? And tell me the truth."

"It's dumb."

"It's about that test, isn't it?"

You blinked in surprise. How did he know? You nodded.

"I'm sure you didn't do that bad," he reassured, squeezing your shoulders gently. "You're smart, Y/N. Cheer up." he playfully patted your cheeks, causing you to stifle a laugh, a smile forming on your face.

"Do you wanna go home?" he asked, his voice softening, a slight frown tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Well yes, but I wanna watch you play more." you say as his hands tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You noticed his expression brighten just a little at your words.

He grinned, moving to the side and ruffling your hair, messing it up again before then slinging an arm over your shoulder. "Come on then, we don't have much time," he says. "I'll win for you, don't worry."

You round the corner and make your way onto the court, where people are already seated and the teams are coming out of their rooms.

"JK, we're on, hurry up!" a voice calls, presumably another one of his members, he lets go of you and tells you to take a seat before running off into the court, but you don't miss how he looks towards you whenever he can, sending a smile your way, as if to make sure you were okay.

The game was intense from the start. The gym echoed with the sounds of sneakers squeaking against polished floors, the thud of the basketball hitting the court, and the excited cheers from the crowd. You sat in the bleachers, your bag shoved under your seat, feeling oddly at ease despite the earlier stress.

You found yourself sitting next to a girl who had been at the game last week, her face vaguely familiar. She wore a jersey that wasn't quite Jungkook's team colors, but she cheered loudly every time the ball changed hands.

"Hey, didn't I see you here last time?" she asked, leaning over slightly to talk. Her voice was warm, friendly, like someone who just knew how to make conversations less awkward.

"Yeah, probably," you said with a small smile, glancing at her. "I try to come to most of Jungkook's games."

"Ah, you're here for JK?" Her eyebrows raised, and there was a playful lilt to her voice. "Friend, girlfriend, or just a fan?"

"Friend," you clarified, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed the simplicity of that label.

She laughed, a soft chuckle that wasn't mocking but understanding. "Got it. I'm Soojin, by the way. I come to watch my cousin—he's on the other team, but don't tell anyone." She mimed zipping her lips.

You laughed a little at that. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

As the game went on, you and Soojin fell into a comfortable rhythm of conversation, punctuated by bursts of cheering and groaning whenever something exciting happened on the court. She was quick-witted and easy to talk to, and for the first time all day, you felt yourself genuinely relaxing.

"Okay, but Jungkook's insane, right?" Soojin said during a timeout, gesturing toward the court where Jungkook was wiping his face with a towel. "The way he just—" she mimicked a crossover dribble and a jump shot, "makes it look so effortless. Honestly, I'd trip over my own feet trying to do half of that."

You laughed, nodding. "Yeah, he's pretty crazy. He's been like that since we met, though. He's good at everything... it's honestly annoying sometimes."

Soojin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You guys must be close, huh? That's cute. So, what's it like having Jeon Jungkook as your personal hype man?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the small smile from forming. "It's chaotic, to say the least. He's super competitive, even outside of basketball. One time, we had this dumb bet over who could eat more tteokbokki, and—"

"Wait, let me guess," Soojin interrupted, grinning. "He demolished you, didn't he?"

You shook your head, laughing. "Nope. He thought he could out-eat me, but I totally won. He ended up lying on the floor groaning about how he was 'never eating again.'"

Soojin laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. "That's amazing. He doesn't seem like the type to lose, especially at something like that."

"Oh, trust me," you said, leaning in conspiratorially. "He's not. He demanded a rematch a week later. Still lost, though."

The two of you dissolved into laughter, the tension of your earlier frustration completely forgotten. You were so caught up in the moment that you almost didn't notice when the crowd suddenly erupted into cheers.

The score was neck-and-neck, and every pass, dribble, and shot was met with thunderous applause or groans of disappointment. You found yourself leaning forward, completely absorbed in the game despite your earlier indifference.

With less than a minute left on the clock, Jungkook's team had the ball. The crowd was on its feet, chanting and clapping as he darted past defenders with effortless precision. You held your breath as he leapt for a three-pointer just as the buzzer sounded.

The ball arced beautifully through the air before sinking through the net with a satisfying swish. The gym erupted into cheers, the sound deafening as Jungkook's teammates swarmed him in celebration. He raised his arms in victory, then turned toward the stands, his eyes locking onto yours. He didn't just smile this time—he winked.

"Oh my god," Soojin said, clutching her chest dramatically. "That was smooth. I'm swooning, and it wasn't even aimed at me. Are you sure you're just friends? Because the way he keeps looking at you..."

You shook your head, laughing but feeling that familiar warmth creep up your neck again. "He's so extra sometimes."

"Extra? Girl, that was a whole movie moment," Soojin countered. "You should be flattered."

At that moment, Jungkook jogged over to the sidelines, drenched in sweat but beaming with pride. He waved at you as he approached, clearly pleased with himself.

"Well? What'd you think?" he asked, leaning on the railing in front of the bleachers.

"You were decent," you said, trying to sound unimpressed.

"Decent?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing in mock offense. "That was a game-winning three-pointer. You should be bowing down right now."

"Don't push your luck, Kook," you teased, though your grin gave you away.

"You did okay," Soojin chimed in, smirking. "But I think Y/N's still more impressed by the tteokbokki story."

Jungkook frowned, his ears turning slightly pink. "You told her about that?"

"Of course," you said, laughing. "It's one of my best Jungkook stories."

He groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Great. Now she thinks I'm a loser."

"Not at all," Soojin said, winking at you. "It's kind of endearing, actually."

Jungkook peeked through his fingers, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the two of you. "Y/N, let's go before you embarrass me further."

You laughed, grabbing your bag and standing up. "Fine, fine. See you around, Soojin."

"Definitely," she said, giving you a knowing smile. "Oh, and Jungkook?"

"Yeah?" he said, pausing mid-step.

"Good game," she said, grinning. "But maybe work on that tteokbokki endurance."

Jungkook groaned again, dragging you toward the exit as you burst into laughter.

The cool evening air hit your face as you both left the gym, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the crowded court. Jungkook still looked a little flustered, though he tried to play it cool, brushing a hand through his damp hair.

"I can't believe you told her about the tteokbokki thing," he muttered, shaking his head.

You smirked, bumping his arm lightly. "Oh, come on, it's a great story. Besides, you challenged me. What did you expect? For me to lose gracefully?"

"Gracefully? I expected you to lose, period," he quipped, shooting you a playful glare. "But apparently, you're hiding a black hole for a stomach. It's unfair."

He grumbled, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a reluctant smile. "Anyway, who was she? You seemed pretty chummy with her for someone you just met."

"Her name's Soojin. She's here to watch her cousin—apparently, he's on the other team. She's nice, though. Funny, too."

Jungkook shot you a look, his brows furrowing. "Wait, hold on. You were sitting next to someone rooting for the other team? And you didn't fight her?"

You snorted. "What am I supposed to do? Start a bleacher brawl? She wasn't obnoxious or anything. Plus, she said you're good. So, technically, she's on your side."

"She said that?" Jungkook perked up, his chest puffing out a little. "Well, I mean, she's not wrong."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't let it go to your head, Jeon."

The two of you strolled toward the bike racks, where Jungkook had locked up his old, slightly scuffed-up mountain bike. He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, then paused, looking at you thoughtfully.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, his voice gentler now. "You seemed a little off earlier. Was it the test?"

The concern in his eyes made your stomach flip, and you hesitated for a moment before shrugging. "Yeah, the test sucked, and so did bio. I'll survive, though. No big deal."

Jungkook frowned, clearly not buying it. "Y/N, if it's stressing you out, let's do something about it. I'm serious."

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "What, you're going to tutor me? You don't even know the difference between mitosis and meiosis."

"Hey," he protested, feigning offense. "I could learn! For you, anyway." He tilted his head, studying your face. "But right now, I'm thinking food might help more than biology. You eaten yet?"

Your stomach growled in response, betraying you instantly. Jungkook's grin widened.

"Thought so," he said. "Come on, let's go get something."

"Now? Aren't you supposed to celebrate with your team or something?"

"Celebrate what? Another win? Boring," he said, waving it off. "Besides, I'd rather hang out with you. Let's go."

Before you could argue, he unlocked his bike and gestured for you to hop onto the back. "I'll give you a ride."

"You're kidding," you said, eyeing the bike skeptically.

"Do I look like I'm kidding? Come on, I've done this a million times."

Reluctantly, you climbed onto the back, holding onto his shoulders for balance. "If I fall and break something, I'm suing you."

Jungkook laughed, his voice full of mischief. "Relax. I'm a pro."

Minutes later, you found yourself seated at a small street food stand, the warm glow of hanging lights illuminating the bustling night market. The smell of grilled meat, savory pancakes, and spicy tteokbokki filled the air, making your mouth water.

Jungkook ordered for both of you, insisting he knew the best dishes. When the food arrived, he slid a steaming plate of tteokbokki toward you with a smirk. "Round two?"

You burst out laughing. "You're kidding."

"Dead serious," he said, picking up a piece with his chopsticks and holding it out to you. "Unless you're scared?"

"You wish," you shot back, leaning in to take the bite. The spicy-sweet sauce burst across your taste buds, and you couldn't help the satisfied hum that escaped. "Okay, this is really good."

"Told you," Jungkook said, grabbing a bite for himself. "But don't get too comfortable. I'm winning this time."

The two of you dug in, the conversation flowing as easily as the food disappeared. Jungkook was in his element, cracking jokes and teasing you relentlessly, but there was a warmth beneath his playful banter that made your heart flutter.

At one point, he leaned in closer, his dark eyes catching yours in the soft light. "You know, I like this. Just... hanging out. No stress, no tests. Just us."

You felt your cheeks heat up, but you managed a teasing grin. "Are you getting sentimental on me, Jeon?"

"Maybe," he admitted, his smile turning softer. "What can I say? You bring it out of me."

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the noise of the market dimming as you held his gaze. Then Jungkook broke the spell with a sudden grin. "But I'm still beating you at this tteokbokki challenge. Watch."

"Dream on," you said, laughing as you picked up another piece. The night stretched on, the stress of the day forgotten as you and Jungkook filled it with laughter, teasing, and just a hint of something more.

As the night wore on, the little food stall grew quieter, but your laughter with Jungkook only got louder. He was in rare form, his wit sharp, his expressions dramatic. Every time he popped another piece of tteokbokki into his mouth, he acted like it was some Herculean feat, groaning as though the spice might defeat him.

"You're such a baby," you teased, shaking your head. "It's not that spicy."

"Oh, says the queen of spice tolerance," he shot back, his voice muffled as he reached for his drink. "Not all of us are walking fire-breathing dragons."

"Dragons are cool," you said with a shrug. "Take it as a compliment."

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. "You know, Y/N, you've got a weird way of flirting."

Your chopsticks froze mid-air, and you nearly choked on your own saliva. "Flirting?" you sputtered, your voice jumping an octave. "Who said I was flirting?"

"Not me," he said smoothly, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "But if you were, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

You stared at him, trying to gauge if he was being serious or just messing with you. His expression gave nothing away, though the slight tilt of his head and the way his gaze lingered on your face made your heart race.

"Well, don't hold your breath," you shot back, trying to sound unaffected. "You're not that special."

"Ouch," he said, clutching his chest dramatically. "Here I am, taking you out, feeding you, carrying this entire night with my charm, and this is the thanks I get?"

"Carrying the night?" You snorted. "You're delusional. If anything, I'm the one entertaining you."

He grinned, leaning back in his chair as if to concede. "Fine, we'll call it even. But seriously," his tone softened, his playful demeanor giving way to something more sincere. "I'm glad we did this. You seemed so stressed earlier, and it's nice to see you smiling again."

You felt a pang of warmth at his words, his genuine concern breaking through the teasing façade. "Thanks, Kook. I needed this," you admitted, surprising even yourself with how honest you sounded.

"Well, you've got me," he said, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Whenever you need to forget about the world—or just eat your weight in tteokbokki—I'm your guy."

You smiled, unable to help the way your heart seemed to flip at his words. "Careful, Jeon. You keep saying sweet things like that, and people might think you're trying to charm me."

"Trying?" He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward again with a wicked grin. "Y/N, I don't need to try."

The heat in your cheeks betrayed you, but you refused to let him see you flustered. "Wow, your confidence is unmatched. Maybe you should focus less on flirting and more on finishing your plate," you said, gesturing to the food in front of him.

He laughed, grabbing his chopsticks again. "Fine, but don't think you're off the hook. I'm keeping track of how much you've eaten. We're still in competition mode."

"Oh, please. I already won," you retorted, taking another bite to prove your point.

The banter carried on, light and easy, as the plates slowly emptied. By the time the last piece of tteokbokki was gone, you both leaned back in your chairs, letting out identical groans of satisfaction.

"I think I've reached my limit," you said, patting your stomach dramatically. "I might actually regret this tomorrow."

"Regret?" Jungkook scoffed, reaching for his drink. "This is the opposite of regret. This is living." He took a sip, eyeing you with a teasing grin. "Admit it—you're impressed by my ability to pick the perfect late-night spot."

You gave him a look, smirking. "Impressed? Not quite. But I'll give you points for good taste."

"Wow, tough crowd," he said, shaking his head with mock disappointment. "Fine, next time, you pick the place. But don't forget, you owe me now."

"I owe you?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"

"For saving you from your stress-induced meltdown," he replied with a grin. "And for treating you to this gourmet feast."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the smile creeping onto your face. "Fine. I guess I do owe you. But don't let it go to your head, Jeon."

"It's already there," he said, tapping the side of his head.

The two of you stood, Jungkook grabbing the tray of empty plates to return to the stall owner. As he turned back to you, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms, he cocked his head slightly.

"You good to walk home, or do you need me to carry you?" he teased, but his voice held a hint of genuine concern.

"I can manage," you replied, brushing off his offer.

"Sure about that?" he asked, stepping closer with a playful grin. "You look like you're one wrong step away from rolling down the street."

You smacked his arm lightly, laughing. "Don't push your luck."

The two of you started down the street, the cool breeze brushing against your skin. The city had quieted down, leaving only the faint hum of streetlights and the occasional distant chatter of other late-night diners.

"You're not in a rush to get back, are you?" Jungkook asked casually, glancing over at you.

You shook your head. "Not really. Why?"

He hesitated for a second, then shrugged. "Figured you might want to hang out a little longer. My place isn't far from here."

Your heart skipped at the casual invitation, though he said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Your place?"

"Yeah," he said, his tone light but his gaze steady. "It's nothing fancy, but I've got snacks, a comfy couch, and a killer view from the balcony. You can unwind for a bit before heading home."

You hesitated, glancing up at him. There was no pressure in his expression, just a quiet sincerity that made it impossible to say no.

"Okay," you said finally, smiling. "Lead the way, Jeon."

His grin widened, and he reached out, giving your hand a quick tug to follow him. "Prepare to be amazed. Or, you know, mildly impressed."

taglist: @blackswan446 @tesfayera @rrosiitas (comment/msg to be added)

[sirxlla]

Deja Vu

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

Warnings: Fluff, Angst

Prompt: Part 2 to Past Misunderstandings, Tyler getting the reader to go around a horses again

Notes: gender of reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

It had been about six months since the rodeo incident and you and Tyler had fell back into that 'Peas in a Pod' attitude. The two of you inseprible again, Layin in the back of his truck in the middle of his dad's damn near ten acres. His feet played with yours, his cowboy boots pushing against yours.

Tyler didnt know exactly what had happened to Moonshine due to the fact he left and the fact you both didnt talk to eachother. He was curious asked about the gunsmoke colored horse and you told him what happened....

Bobcats weren't overly or exceedingly uncommon for the area but they usually stayed away from livestock in this area due to a lot of the farmers killing them or scaring them off with shotguns.

Unfortunately, a few years back one of them ran straight right for your horse, of course your sweet boy got scared and tried to buck you, a foot stayed trapped in the stirrup for a few feet before you came loose.

Regrettably, for you and Moonshine the bobcat kept going right after that horse, that sweet horse you'd had for damn near almost your whole life. There was nothing you could do but leave him because as soon as they had latched onto his backside another came out of nowhere and went for the neck...All you could do was save yourself. Everyday you wished there was something more you could have done.

After you explained what happened to Tyler he rubbed your back with a sad sympathetic expression on his face.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Tiny. You loved that horse..." He smiles as a memory crosses his mind as he gazes at the clouds.

"You remember when we took him out to that field after we ditched school and we laid in the grass on that blanket all day. It was cloud watching, right?"

You smiled sadly, you know Tyler was just trying to make you feel better. Tyler always had a habit of knowing exactlt what to say to distract you.

"You cant say every cloud looks like a penis!" A laugh left your throat as you repeated what you had said to him, it wasnt just cloud watching...your had head spent that whole day on Tyler's bicep cuddled into him like he was your favorite teddy bear, not too different from how you were now.

The way your eyes light up just made Tyler feel so much better about how you felt right now over Moonshine. His heart swelled at the laugh that left you, music to his ears. He was so glad to have you back.

"Hey, I know you might not be ready for it but...My dad's just came into possesion of a horse who's really skiddish and he can't get her to come near anyone. I know your dad's horse Whiskey was pretty skiddish when y'all got him and you were the only one that got him out of that shell, you and your dad...Uncle's (You both called eachothers dads Uncle cause of the way you both grew up together) tried with this horse and she just wont budge. My dad asked me to ask you if you'd try."

"What's wrong with her?" You looked up at Tyler with a bit of worry as you spoke.

"He said something about her buckin' and stompin'. I think he also said something about her tryna bite." Tyler massaged your scalp as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"Yeah...I can. I can try." You told him with a bit of nervousness in your voice. Not only were you scared with how wild this horse seemed but letting a horse in seemed bittersweet after Moonshine. Cantaloupe (your brother's horse) was different cause you'd known that horse all your life but you know Tyler's dad and he wouldn't stop tryna break this horse, if done wrong he'd hurt her or himself bad at least.

A few days passed and Tyler picked you up and got you to his dad's farm. This barn was the same from that night but now the memory was fond because you knew it really had meant something to Tyler. He winked in acknowledgment of the spit you two had done it, which earned a blush from you.

You held Tylers hands with nerves as he guided you down to the horse, every step closer and noise that was made riled the horse up even more. You squeezed his hsnd with nerves, you knew horses like this were dangerous. Tyler's dad slammed something down in pure anger as he left the stable, his eyes fell on you. He had a black eye which you assumed was from the horse.

"TT, if you can get that damn horse to calm down then you can have the damn thing. I've had it up to here with the damn bitch!" Tyler's dad wasnt one to curse a lot but he was clearly pissed as he stomped off.

"You dont have to do this, Tiny." Tyler told you, he was clearly nervous about this after seeing his dad the way he was and hearing the commotion inside the stable.

"If I dont then what happens to her? Huh?" You asked, it was like all nerves had been stripped away and you went into savior mode. This was how you were when you were younger, determined and didnt back down from a challenge.

"Okay." He backed down cause he knew how you were, he grew up with you like this and it was good to see you step back into yourself.

You took a deep breath as you closed your eyes before opening them on exhale. You slowly slipped into that stable. 'Oh, she way beautiful' you thought, a Leopard pattern to her fur. She looked at you like you were a challenge but as soo as you saw that you bowed you head and bowed infront of her.

"Hey...Hey, Beauty....It's alright...It's okay, Mama. I aint here to hurt you." You spoke softly and stayed in place by the door. Invading her personal space without permission is clearly what Tyler's dad fucked up on.

"I know, Uncle was an asshole. He came ib here acting like he owns the place." You said with a smile, that day you didnt even get close enough to touch her. As much as you loved your uncle, he could be impaitent.

As weeks passed you and her got closer as did you and Tyler. You and Tyler had started sleepin at eachothers places, innocent little kisses and hugs turned into showers together. The two of you didnt have sex or anything, it was just intimate and close. His body pressed to yours as you leaned your head back as he pulled you closer to him with his arm around your torso.

You got closer and closer to this horse, your 'uncle' had given the horse to you. When she was ready for it you had saddled her up and rode around with her.

Tyler had been asking after the beautiful white and black spotted horse so you introduced her to him, made him go slow and respectful and before you knew it she'd cuddle her face onto Tyler's arm to get him to pet her.

Tyler was so damn proud of you, he pulled you close to him and kissed you deeply pushing you against that same interior wall of the barn like he did in highschool but this was more. It was more languid and passionate, your hands found his face as he kissed you.

"We doing this again?" You asked against his lips with a smile and whisper.

"You wanna do this again, Tex?" He asked just to make sure you he wasnt pressuring you.

Your eyes flitted back and forth as they ran through the possiblities, 'Was this a good idea? Should I?'

Masterlist

[harrycinnamonbun]

christmas day - oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader

word count - 1.2k

summary - opening presents on christmas morning with bf oscar

warnings - kissing, mostly fluff!

a/n - this is short and super late but merry christmas to those who celebrate! I feel like bf oscar is great at gift giving, lily sure is lucky :)

everything was perfect.

you got up early to make breakfast, unable to contain your excitement for the day. you've loved christmas ever since you were a little girl, and this year was no different. but this year, you got to open presents with your boyfriend. 

he was perfect. sweet, kind, attentive, passionate– everything you’ve ever wanted. you'd been dating for a little over 6 months now, right in that sweet spot of newfound love and genuine commitment. for your first christmas together, you agreed on small gifts. nothing fancy or extravagant, you had your entire lives for that. this first christmas was meant for something meaningful, a testament to your relationship.

you flip the eggs over, frying them the way oscar likes, squinting as the sun shines through the windows of the spacious monaco apartment. your bare feet padded across the tile floor as you grabbed some slices of bread to toast. the only other sound you could hear was the crackling of the eggs in the pan. 

this was much unlike the christmases you were used to, which were usually blanketed in snow, but it was a welcome change. it was still quiet out, the city still waking slowly to find presents placed under their trees. the tree in oscar’s apartment had been a bit sad before you spruced it up. its branches were occupied by just a few homemade ornaments from oscar’s childhood, but that was it. it was still low–key by all means, but more worthy of being called a christmas tree now with the addition of some ribbon and shiny ornaments. and of course you added a star, one of your grandmother’s heirlooms that had finally made its way to you. it now sat perched atop the tree like a regal crown. 

the bedroom door opened with a low creak, as a sleepy oscar stepped out with a smile.

“good morning love, merry christmas!” he said sweetly, walking over to the kitchen to place a kiss on your cheek. you leaned into his warm touch as he wrapped his arms around your waist and embraced you from behind, inhaling his scent. oscar radiated warmth, and creases lined his cheeks, evidence of his deep sleep. 

“eat first, then we open presents.” you slid a plate filled with bacon, eggs, toast, and a croissant over to him as he sat down at the table. 

“presents? i already have everything i want.” he looked up at you cheekily, already digging into his breakfast. “mmm wow this is good. thanks babe,” he moaned out as he chewed his food, a  stupidly big smile on his face already.

you rolled your eyes and brought your own plate to the table, sitting across from him. your feet touched his innocently under the table, your fluffy socks meeting his as you sat eating in comfortable silence. anticipation was palpable between the two of you, oscar making it glaringly obvious by shoveling his food in his mouth as fast as possible. you took it a bit easier, knowing there was no rush to get the day started. 

you took your last bite and oscar snatched the empty plate from under you, taking the dirty dishes straight to the sink. 

“okay okay time for presents.” he yanked your chair out from the table and pushed you off it, scooping you up to carry you to the tree.

“oscar! let me down!” you giggled as he set you down in front of the tree, placing a pretty gift bag in front of you. you gave him a look as you handed him two gift wrapped boxes, raising your eyebrows as you beamed. 

“okay baby, open yours first.” you say and look at him expectantly. he eagerly ripped open the wrapping paper of the first box, clawing it off excitedly. a flat white box remained, but as he opened the top, a picture frame sat inside.

inside the picture frame was a few pieces of confetti from his first win in hungary earlier this year. a small gold plaque as the bottom read “osc’s first win 2024”. 

oscar looked up at you, clearly at a loss for words. his eyes conveyed an intense love and gratitude, which was then confirmed with a bear hug. 

“i love it baby, this is perfect. thank you so much love i can’t wait to hang it up.” he breathed out as he suffocated you in his arms, clutching so hard you could almost see stars. 

you pulled him back the moment he let go, immediately kissing him on the lips sweetly. he held you close, kissing you softly until you both had to break away to breathe. 

“i can’t believe you kept the confetti,” he whispered.

“of course i did. we needed something to remember that special day.” you pulled him in for another hug and then sat back down across from him. “you have one more thing,” you gesture to the second box. 

he ripped the paper off just as fast as the first, and inside the box was a variety of australian candies and snacks, the good stuff you couldn’t find in monaco. oscar’s eyes widened, and so did his grin, a childlike wonderment and joy taking over him. 

“i can’t find these anywhere here!” he exclaimed, holding up a box of tim tams. he leaned over to hug you again, kissing you on the cheek. “what a great surprise.” 

“open yours now…” he said, setting down the box of treats to watch you intently. you pick up the bag and take out the tissue paper. inside was a rabbit stuffed animal, and a small velvet box. 

“you got me a jellycat!” you squealed with joy, taking out the plushie first. “its adorable baby, how did you know ive been wanting one?”

“you talk about it every single day.” oscar deadpanned, as smile threatening to break his facade as he teased you. you rolled your eyes at him and went to hug him, but he put his hand out to stop you, “open the next one.”

you set the rabbit plushie down and gently grasped the velvet box, opening the top of it. inside was a golden heart shaped locket, with yours and oscar’s initials engraved in swirling script on the front. your mouth fell open in awe, tears threatening to spill from your eyes at the sight. it was beautiful and dainty, exactly something you would wear. you opened the locket to find a note in oscar's handwriting inside which read, “i love you.”

when reading that, you started to cry softly. it was the most lovely present you had received in a very long time. “I….i love it…i love you…” you stammered out breathlessly, unable to keep a stupid grin off your face. 

oscar pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your forehead to comfort you. “I mean it, i love you so much,” he said sincerely, taking the locket from you and fastening it around your neck. 

you embraced each other warmly, soaking in the memory of your first christmas together in monaco. it had turned out better than you could ever imagine, and you were more in love than ever now.

it was perfect. the moment was perfect. this christmas was perfect.