#I will bust down Disney’s door okay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 4 years

Text

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?”

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence.

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jjk♡#jeon jungkook #mine

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highdramas · 3 years

Text

the billboard said the end is near | b.b.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: language, possible tfatws spoilers, canon typical violence, bucky is soft and loves his doll and will do anything to keep her safe

word count: 2184

summary: bucky is protective over what has given him solace.

note: here's tawlb part 4! you don’t have to read these in order, they stand independently, but they do all work together! PLEASE leave feedback/reblog! this is extremely helpful for me writing future parts to know what everyone likes or doesn’t like!

enjoy! <3

chaos has always controlled your life.

in all of the best ways, and all of the worst ones, too. in the best ways, it has allowed you to not take life too seriously. it has allowed you to let things roll off your shoulders and keep your easy breezy demeanor. you like to think that you don’t allow the little things to affect you-- you also note that it’s because the big things have been so all consuming.

who knew that turning to dust for five years would turn your life into such a shit show?

the five years hadn’t felt like five years to you at all. it felt like one day, you had been laying on your couch watching tv, and then five years later you were appearing in someone else’s apartment. all of your things, gone.

you will never forget their screams as they watched you materialize from nothing.

of course, you can’t blame them. and it wasn’t just this apartment. the screams and the chaos broke through the entire building. people busting from doors, crying and scrambling to use their cell phones, to see if this was really happening.

the couple that had moved into your apartment after you dusted had been kind, all things considered. the woman had held you and you could feel her crying and she kept saying do you have family? do you know their numbers?

finally, you couldn’t help yourself. you had asked, “what happened to me?”

“you’ve been gone for five years, honey.”

these sorts of revelations had ruled your life for the months since you came back.

like when you called your boyfriend only to find out that he was engaged.

like when you found out that you certainly didn’t have a job anymore.

like when you found out that you had no apartment, no savings, no anything. nothing left.

it has been over a year since the blip and you are still feeling the repercussions from it. you are still feeling the hurt of having your life upended, you are still feeling the hurt of missing a life that went on without you. it’s hard not to daydream about what could’ve been. what could’ve stayed the same.

then bucky looks at you, and you’re reminded that not all change is bad.

change is hard but you know that he kisses you and it makes your brain fuzzy, he lays you back on your mattress and he stays with you until the sun rises. change is hard but you introduce him as my boyfriend, james to every new person you meet and you watch as he smiles and pride lingers in his eyes and he carefully places his arm around your shoulders. change is hard but he doesn’t wear the gloves around you anymore.

change is hard, but bucky is better than any of it.

he’s been gone more than normal lately.

of course, you understand. and, really, you think it might be good for him. not the fighting-- while you understand the benefit it has for him, the purpose that it gives him, that’s not the thing that you believe serves him best. no, it is sam. it is sam’s family. it is knowing that there are other people out there in the world who are looking at him the same way that you look at him.

okay, maybe not exactly the same.

bucky had sent you a text from that stupid dinky flip phone that morning, saying that he would be home that night. the implications go unsaid.

you and the winter soldier have formed quite the routine-- he has a key to your apartment on his keyring (it’s a disney princess key. it’s the only spare that you had, and the laughter that erupted from you had made him relent in trying to barter for the cat printed key you have). he’s going to let himself in, probably around ten. you’ll already have the chinese takeout spread out on the table. you’ll spread your arms out and do little jazz hands towards the food and you’ll say, “ta-da.”

and you will watch as the tension in his shoulders starts to ease and he sets his duffel bag down in your entryway and he will cross the room to you. his arms will snake around your waist and his face will be buried into the crook of your neck. he will sigh and you will stroke his hair and you will say, “welcome home, buck.”

but now, it is nine. it is nine and you are curled up on your couch and kitty rests in your lap and you feel yourself growing antsy waiting for bucky to come home. she looks up at you and lets out that little trill as you scratch her head and you smile.

the smiling doesn’t last long.

the building that you and bucky live in is not swanky by any means. it was built in the 40s, with creaky floors and ugly carpeted hallways. the walls are thin and you can hear everything-- really, everything. and the shouting and commotion is certainly not typical.

you move to stand just as the door bursts--or explodes, you’re not sure which is the better word-- open. a scream leaves your lips and you hold onto your cat for dear life, scrambling back into your bedroom and clicking the door behind you. your limbs are shaking and you nearly trip over your dresser and your cat nearly claws your arm off.

you hear bucky before you see him.

“you really think i wasn’t gonna find out about this little stunt?” you’ve never heard his voice like this-- so low, so full of absolute rage. “you’re out of your fucking mind.”

the other person is stammering and though you don’t see the blow that bucky lands on their face, you do hear the aftermath. bucky is talking to someone and you finally set your cat down and you hear bucky on the other side of the door. “doll, it’s me.”

you open the door and look at him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. he looks just as shaken, but more than that-- he’s angry. his fists are clenched at his sides. “buck--” you lay a hand on your chest and you try to gain control of your breathing and you can see that he is doing the same. “what happened?”

bucky hesitates. you watch the gears turning in his head, and it makes your head tilt to the side. “bucky, i’m not kidding-- tell me.”

“we were on our way back and sam got a tip from torres that the flag smashers were--” he cringes even at the thought and he shakes his head. “they were going to try and--”

you watch as he struggles to say it, to really say it, and you touch his face. the touch seems to open him up. his hand takes your wrist and he rubs his thumb along the bone. “they wanted to take you as a hostage.”

a hostage.

bucky opens his mouth to say something else as you blink, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that someone wanted to take you as a hostage, but sam interrupts him. “sharon’s got the guy in cuffs downstairs,” he says in your doorway. when you look, you can see that a mess has been made of your living room-- and not the sort of mess that you create. no, it is a mess of destruction and chaos. “i’m gonna head out. call me if you need anything, i’m staying in town.”

bucky nods and you muster up your best smile to sam and then you look at bucky and you say quietly, “can we go to your apartment?”

he nods and you scoop up kitty and you pad down the hall beside him, still in your loungewear and fuzzy socks. you notice that he constantly keeps a hand on you. whether it’s his fingers tangling with yours or his arm around your shoulders or his palm pressed into the small of your back-- you know exactly what it is that he’s doing, and you lean into every touch, hoping that the contact whispers i’m here, i’m here, i’m here, and you are not losing me.

kitty drops to the floor and, surprisingly, it’s bucky that speaks before you do. “you’re gonna move in here. with me.” he stares at you firmly. “i’m gonna make sure that you’re safe. and the safest place you can be is with me.”

you open your mouth to reply but he continues. “i can’t--” you watch the gears in his head turning, the scenarios turning over and over and over again in his mind. “i can’t lose you.”

“buck…” you move over to him and you place your hands on his face. his eyes are fixed on the wall behind your head, and you watch as guilt overcomes him and you can practically hear him saying if i hadn’t been there in time… “bucky, you’re not going to.”

you feel his hands fist into the material of your t shirt and he holds you even closer. “i’ll move in with you,” you finally whisper against the stubble of his jaw. “and not just for safety. because i want to live with you.”

bucky pulls away and he looks at you with a wobbling lip and you shush him. “i’m okay,” you whisper and you lean your forehead on his. “i’m okay, and i’m here, and i’m staying.”

“okay.”

his hand caresses the back of your head and you touch the place where his heart is. you watch his shoulders rise and fall, you watch his eyes flutter shut and you see some of the tension finally seep out of his pores. he opens his eyes at you and he looks so tired.

“i sleep on the floor,” he blurts it as he pulls away slightly. for a moment, it looks like he regrets it, the way that he winces slightly. “i don’t like… i don’t like sleeping in the bed. it’s too… soft. i always slept in your bed when i stayed over because i didn’t want you to wake up and i wasn’t there.”

“bucky…” you lean into every single place that he touches. “i’ll sleep on the floor with you.”

an incredulous sort of laugh leaves bucky as he stares down at you. he shakes his head a bit. “i don’t want you to do that.”

“i don’t care,” you say with a steely resolve and confident defiance, jutting your chin up at him. “because i’m sleeping next to you. tonight, and every night after. i don’t care where. i’ll never care where.”

bucky’s exhale is shaky and broad arms encircle your waist entirely, drawing you in closer and closer. his face presses into your neck, the exact way that you had imagined him coming home to you hours earlier. you can feel his lips pressing into your skin, can feel the sheer need in it. “i don’t deserve you,” every movement of his lips against your neck is entirely felt, sending sparks through your limbs. “i don’t know what i did to get this lucky.”

“shh,” you rake your fingernails down his scalp and you can feel his fingers gripping you tighter. “if you say that stupid shit again, i’ll kill you. you deserve me.” you tap his chin and he fixes his gaze on you. “and i deserve you. we deserve each other. we deserve to be happy. together. and i’m tired of people thinking otherwise.”

bucky finally cracks a smile. “you’re very stubborn.”

“i thought you liked that about me.”

“i love that about you.” he takes a beat. “among other things.”

you bite down on your lip and finally lean up on your tiptoes. “i promise i’ll be a good roommate.”

“that’s bullshit,” he says and his hands find the curve of your waist once more, traveling to your hips. “i’m going to be cleaning up after you every damn day.”

“yeah, probably.” your hand goes to the back of his head. “it will feel safe. staying here.”

bucky’s nose trails up the side of your face. “good.” he presses his lips to your jaw. “i’m sorry about your apartment. that fucker would’ve been dead if you weren’t there.” he grows more serious again. “i would never let anyone get away with anything like that. i will never let it get that far again, doll. i swear to god.”

“bucky,” you breathe. “i know. it’s okay.” you take his hand and you pull a few blankets off his couch, toss down a few pillows. “let’s go to sleep.”

there’s a twinkle in his eye as he watches you shuffle around his apartment, putting together a makeshift bed on the floor. you fluff the pillows before setting them down and you give him a smile that tells him everything is going to be alright.

even though he says you moving in is about keeping you safe… he sleeps that night on the hardwood, holding you, and he feels safer too.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes series #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #the world's a little blurry #my writing

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ginneko · 3 years

Note

Gojo x (f) reader who doesn’t want to fall for him bc she’s afraid that he would cheat on her and break her heart. But make it fluffy plz :3

It's oka!

A/n: it was first about Gojo so sorry it took me some time to think about. I hope you like it. Here is 'masterlist'

After what happened to Geto, left a scar. Gojo changed entirely even he acts as an optimistic person but that was just a layer to cover his true self to blind others. Shoko got busy in her job while Nanami couldn't be with him all the time to accompany him. As he constantly went alone on those missions.

It didn't matter how much he kept his self involved during the day but at night when there was frivolity to do, then he realize that how deserted he was just flowing with the time and surroundings, that's all.

"Gojo" as you called him with a calm voice, he twirl and looked at you. You both beat the curses and the mission was complete. But still he just staredown bored.

"Stop pushing yourself." You turned and mumble those words. Those words were nothing but enough, he just felt that he need a break and think again he couldn't end this suffering or grief. As he looked at your way, you were the only one left now, who accompany him when you have time. Even you were not so strong but he can protect you and others too. He hates loneliness it makes him feel broken.

He didn't take notice of his feeling in the beginning as you just know when his mood was down even he just joke around but you just look through him. As one day, he saw you talking with a guy who was taking too much interest in you as you still refusing him kindly, he felt nasty taste. He just picked you up, hands under your armpit.

"Aw~ baby there you were," he said as your feet couldn't touch the ground while you fully knew that this was his stupid way to mock you while making that guy uncomfortable. He didn't know why he did that but he got one thing clear that he just want your attention or he like you.

Always joke around you to make you laugh or he just irritates you. Like in the morning when you open the door he just standing outside to greet you. While he didn't were blindfold and look in your eyes. When you looked away, he just bent that way to just look at him. He even got his back strain as he bent too much just to make you look at him straight in his eyes.

He had given your address as all his packages just deliver to you. After he came to your apartment and say he was not present so they send it to you. Just a way to enter your apartment and sit in the lobby while making himself home.

"Do you like gojo?"Shoko asked you while you stay silent look at your feet.

"Even I do, I didn't want to pursue that feeling as it will hurt in the end" Shoko raises an eyebrow at your statement.

"Well he is just too charming and all girls just fall flat for him. It's fearsome.." you added, unknown of the fact that he was listing this all. Ya, he just fell for you at that movement. So you dispute that he would cheat. Well, he will prove wrong that.

As he started to give you hugs from behind. While he turn off his infinity around you so sometimes he got a handprint but he just didn't mind that.

Send you sweet and bring you to expensive restaurants, he loves to load you with food.

Even it's been 1 year when he heard about your confession. But he still didn't nudge you. But everyone just saw and view you both as a couple. As he always holding your shoulders or hand.

"Y/n, what do you think love is?" He suddenly asked one day as you reading a book.

"Joke," you said in a weary tone.

"Hehe... What if I tell you that 'i love you" he looked at you.

"Aww, then I will say yes and then we kiss each other, sing a song like those Disney movies, and live happily. Man, I didn't care, right now." you focus on the book again.

"But, I will wait you know y/n... it's okay if you have a trust issue but I am staying with you and will prove to you someday that I just like you" he said as there was a seriousness in his tone.

Your face just got hot like you were about to fuse but just control it. He stood up and plant a kiss on your forehead.

"Just don't leave me. ok?" He said cheerful and left the place.

Well sometimes things take time but that is how a person discovers to be thoughtful and he was sure that the time you taking, it will make him fall for you more.

🌟Bonus🌟

As you were singing in the shower while enjoying yourself. Music blasting in your bathroom as you were kinda happy today.

"Can I attend your show" you heard a familiar voice from other side of door. But still, it didn't took you long to recognize as you turned out to a be ripped tomato on spot.

"Shut up baka!" You busted. As you hear his laugh from other side. He loves to tease you.

#anime #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo #headcanon #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo fluff #gojo x y/n

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Text

hi yes im still alive

DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST--

HAVING A MOMENT TO PROCESS ALL THE LORE AND STORY CHAPTER 6 JUST DROPPED ON US, I CAN BARELY WRITE

AHHHHHHH, I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS 😭 kjdbbaufbiafafvoaybo LEMME PUT ON MY THINKING CAP AND THROW SOME STUFF OUT ASDYUBUASDLI;AGVUOQIB;VI You’ll understand why I used Leona’s face here even though it’s Idia and Ortho’s chapter after you read my thoughts--

***Chapter 6 (and other main story) spoilers below the cut!***

Okay, just to keep it simple, I’ll try to keep things in chronological order!

First is a bullet point list of my thoughts on chapter 6 so far, then all my questions and theories (mostly a biggish theory on Ace) are at the end of the post.

Expectation: Idia cowering in his room, Vil and Rook busting down his door using Epel as a battering ram, dead Ortho theory confirmed

Reality: SWAT TEAM RAID ON NRC, DORM LEADERS (sans Kalim) AND JAMIL GET KIDNAPPED

Admittedly, I’m disappointed to see that the injury Grim inflicted to MC was basically just a cat scratch and nothing more. I thought it would be a lot more impactful if MC had to deal with juggling the realization that Grim has betrayed their friendship and trust while also on the verge of death (or at least while being severely injured)... And given how MC reacted to the attack at the end of chapter 5, I would think whatever struck them was much more substantial than just a cat scratch. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say either the script got scrubbed by Disney, or the intent was that MC was still woozy from VDC / OB Vil, MC felt so betrayed that it shook them emotionally, or that MC was just that weak by default that they can’t defend themselves against cat claws.

Hey, Ramshackle’s finally getting renovated! Proceeds to immediately get destroyed again--

I feel like????????? They tried to retroactively explain why Neige won to try and mitigate the uproar over how VDC ended. There’s some dialogue between the VDC group about how they didn’t perform at their peak because of having just walked out of dealing with OB Vil, and how Neige’s fans were going to vote for him anyway because they resonated with his background. Honestly, I think they should have moved on from that sore spot instead of bringing it up again, even if how chapter 5 ended didn’t personally bother me.

BOOM, HERE COME THE TWST TERMINATORS--

NOT GONNA LIE, THOSE STYX GUYS LOOK HOT SO COOL

AAAAAAND IT’S KIDNAPPING MONTAGE TIME, KIDS

JOABSFHUPAUABDBADB CALM DOWN, RIDDLE??????? YOU’RE GOING TO COMMIT ARSON IN BROAD DAYLIGHT--

Okay, I know this chapter’s focused on Ignihyde and Grim, but the standout part to me (so far) has been the scene where Leona’s being kidnapped. Historically, Leona has not been a character that I like (excluding that one time I had to pretend to like him for a game). I feel like he’s one massive missed opportunity (he didn’t show up much in chapter 2, he’s pretty similar backstory-wise to his Disney counterpart compared to the other Dorm Leaders, he didn’t seem to learn anything or become a better person even a LITTLE after chapter 2, etc.). I’m not a fan of his lazy and arrogant attitude either (even if it is justified by his backstory). But here? THIS IS THE LEONA I ACTUALLY LIKE AND WANT TO SEE MORE OF.

LIKE????? I CAN’T DESCRIBE TO YOU HOW MUCH I LIKE THIS SCENE???? Yeah, we have Leona fighting STYX at first, but as soon as he realizes who they are, he wises up and surrenders because he knows better than to resist arrest. AND NOT ONLY THAT, but he uses King’s Roar in a smart way--to turn the falling greenhouse glass panes into sand so they don’t hurt anyone nearby (namely him and Ruggie).

And after he turns himself in????? LEONA TELLS RUGGIE TO TAKE CARE OF SAVANACLAW FOR HIM!!! THIS is what a real leader would do. He looks after himself and his people, but he knows when to surrender, AND he leaves his “kingdom” (the dorm) in good hands while he’s away. THIS is the Leona I want to see.

AJBDUASHPFBUABFIABIYFBIPFAAFIAF I ALSO REALLY LIKE HIS SASS WHEN HE JUST THROWS HIS HANDS UP AND ASDBIASBIABAIODDAYOFAIPPADAIDB SAYS “I’ll go with you, but be careful while escorting me, okay? Despite my looks, I'm a precious prince. I’ll get sick/dizzy if you drive recklessly.” SARCASTIC SASSY SMARTASS??????? IF YOU HAD MORE LINES LIKE THIS, I’D LIKE YOU MORE

I love how Azul’s still talking about capitalism/how he can profit from Idia (apparently the Shrouds are like the TWST equivalent of Google??????) as he’s being escorted away by the agents?????? IF I WERE HIM, I’D BE PISSED OFF THAT THEY INTERRUPTED MY BOARD GAME????? At least let the man finish first--

Damn, everyone’s being tasered???????? And apparently all the STYX agents are equipped with anti-magic plates? I guess Bind the Heart can just eat shit then--

Lilia’s ringtone is cute, period.

CROWLEY CALLED STYX TO CAPTURE GRIM???? GRIM IS OFFICIALLY A SCP THAT NEEDS TO BE CONTAINED????

WAIT WHAT CROWLEY’S BEING KIDNAPPED TOO??????? Oh well, the school is probably safer in Trein’s hands anyway--

askhlbfbilhidbabbidasb RIDDLE WAKES UP POST KIDNAPPING AND HE’S USING LEONA AS A LAP PILLOW?????!

How does it feel to be held in a room against your will, Jamil? Yeah, don’t like a taste of your own medicine, do you?

OH HI IDIA, NICE YZMA MAD SCIENTIST GETUP YOU GOT THERE

Wait, what????? THAT’S IT?????? SERIOUSLY???????

MAN.

I have so many questions??????? Specifically about STYX and what they do, and how the Shrouds are tied into all of it.

So they say STYX is a specialized unit called in to quell serious Overblot cases. And if Crowley called them to deal with Grim... well, bad times ahead for Grim. STYX has also been studying Overblot for a long time, which is why (I think?) they captured Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, and Vil.

There’s been some allusions made between Grim and Stitch in a lot of fan art and fan theories I’ve seen, since their struggles have some parallels: that being them struggling to decide if they are “good” or “bad”. I don’t know if this was intentional on the part of the TWST writing team, but regardless, it’s a really good concept that plays into the themes of TWST itself. There’s no good, there’s no evil, no black and white--most of the characters we see may be BASED on villains, but that doesn’t MAKE them villains. They are good, and bad, in their own ways--and now Grim is dealing with that crisis as he fights to keep his sanity and avoid completely succumbing to Overblot.

Though Idia seems to be involved with STYX’s research, it doesn’t sound like he personally gave the order to retrieve those test subjects (or at the very least, he’s not happy about roughing up the test subjects), it sounds like the orders came from other people in the organization. His parents, perhaps?

They mention briefly that Idia’s parents are asking him to “come home”, so it must be for something urgent. Are they worried about his safety? But Idia’s lines at the end of chapter 5 lead me to think he is estranged from his family, since he straight up rejected a job offer linked to them (Olympus Corp is owned by the Jupiter family, and the Shrouds are a branch family of Jupier), and says something like “I’m not welcome anywhere”. Has Idia done something to disgrace him from the rest of the family? Or is it more of a self imposed/self inflicted statement, given that he always says he’s “cursed” and acts like he’s guilty of something that deserves scorn?

Why is Idia participating in STYX research, even if it means experimenting on his fellow students (and fellow board game enthusiast Azul)? People are speculating that he wants to use blots to fully revive Ortho (if dead Ortho theory is true), or that Idia actually has heroic intentions (he wants to know more about blots to prevent OBing from happening?), but at this point??? Literally anything could happen?!

In future parts, I’m guessing Pomefiore, MC, and Adeuce will team up to break Jamil and the Dorm Leaders (except Malleus, Malleus got left out again www) out? And HOPEFULLY we get to see Rook’s Unique Magic or at least more screen time, since I feel like he got so little in chapter 5... Another thing I’d like to see is Ace and/or Epel getting their Unique Magic, or at least starting to develop it. It’s really mostly Ace I want more details for.

A theory I’ve been holding onto for a long time is that Deuce getting his UM will spur Ace on to become jealous (since he has always seen Deuce as an idiot/”lesser” than him), and that will cause a rift in the friendship, or for Ace to throw himself into a dangerous situation to prove himself (he has done it before with Riddle)... and has his ass rescued again. This would make Ace even angrier, since he feels like everyone is treating him like a little kid or rubbing it in that he isn’t “as good” as they are. I don’t know where it would go from there (I’m sure TWST would get creative), but ultimately it would culminate in Ace making amends with everyone and rushing in to save them from either Grim or Idia OB.

I don’t think Ace would discover his UM in a similar manner as Deuce (Deuce had to embrace his own stubbornness and straightforwardness, but as the term “Unique” Magic implies, the way a magic develops and manifests is “unique” to the user). While Deuce has to learn to accept his own way of thinking, I believe Ace is already sure of his own way of thinking and has totally accepted it. I think what Ace has to deal with instead is coming to terms with his fickleness. We’ve seen him time and time again treating his loved ones kind of callously, from constantly bullying MC, Grim, and Deuce to ghosting his own girlfriend and flaking on people when they are counting on him to do a task.

The issue with Ace isn’t that he isn’t aware, it’s that he is aware and he seems to think this behavior is totally okay. He demonstrates little to no remorse in what he does and says, and he doesn’t seem to care about the consequences either (how many times does he get punished by Riddle, yet he keeps doing the same dumb things over and over?). Ace appears to operate under the mindset of always being in the right, or (if he’s in the wrong), he won’t really acknowledge it, or he will wave it off as “no big deal”--and I think that’s his greatest weakness.

In the scenario I described earlier, I mentioned that Ace’s jealousy will cause a wedge between him and his friends, and I think this will play into him realizing the error of his ways. When he has finally driven away all of the people that supported him, what will he have left? Nothing. Then maybe Ace suddenly finds himself relating to Idia, or to Grim, who have Overblotted and are in a similar emotional state as he is. Confused and lonely... and that energizes him to pitch in again, even if all he has is wind magic up his sleeve. Everyone could be shocked that Ace has returned, and in that moment, he could finally realize his true potential and unlock his Unique Magic!

(Maybe that’s too specific, but that’s a scenario that I’ve had playing in my head for a long time!)

... Buuuuut given that Ace has gotten little to no spotlight so far in chapter 6, I’m not sure if they’ll lean into him developing his UM yet (unless they pull a chapter 5 and really start addressing Ace in the latter half of the chapter like they did with Deuce). Seeing as chapter 6 is dealing with a lot of heavy topics (death, Grim lore, Overblot lore), I’m thinking maybe the TWST team will push off Ace’s UM development to chapter 7???? The only way I can see it happening in chapter 6 is if the chapter is SUPER long, or if the writing is REALLY good or really bad.

Anyway, I’m keeping my fingers crossed!!! I’m so excited for the rest of chapter 6... I hope that we don’t have to wait too long for it!

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highqueenofelfhame · 3 years

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An: I’ll add tags later, i just wanted to get this posted because I’m like pretty happy with it, it’s alright. So i hope you guys enjoy! I’ll also attach links and stuff later, I’m posting this from my iPad and i just am too lazy for the tagging process. Me wants to sleep. This is part of the Disney au! Shoutout to @tangledraysofsunshine and @punkassbookjockey26 for the help on this one! This is mostly fluff (i know, how wild) but don’t worry i’m working on some angst for you soon. Fafs update soon too! I’ve already started on it and I’m going to keep working on it as the week goes. Thankfully it’s an easy chapter for me to write bc i have plenty of OG stuff to pull from. Okay, anyway! Enjoy!!

With every second that ticked by, it was getting harder and harder not to rummage through his belongings like she lived there. Even worse was that Rowan was sneaking glances at her with a smirk on his lips like he knew she wanted to. It made her scowl, a frown line appearing between her eyebrows as she glared into his back.

“I’m making you dinner, and you’re still finding a reason to be unhappy with me?” He asked her, putting down the spatula and turning to lean against his counter. The man looked criminally good in an ivory cable-knit sweater and dark jeans, an outfit combination that Aelin had never seen him in before. Thinking back on it, she was positive that when he wasn’t in a costume at work, she had only ever seen him in jeans and a t-shirt. There was also the single flannel he’d worn on Halloween, but all of that was simply incomparable to how he looked now.

“You said dinner would be ready ages ago.”

“I said it would be ready in half an hour when you got here, which was twenty minutes ago. I still have ten minutes before you get to hound me about lying.”

“Maybe if you’d prepared an appetizer…” she teased, hoping with every cell in her body that he knew she was kidding. When Rowan had said he wanted to cook her dinner, she’d been floored. The only meal that she could successfully make was breakfast, and the options were limited. Additionally, she couldn’t remember the last time a romantic interest had cooked for her at all. Probably Sam several years earlier, and it had been so bad they’d relented and settled on drive-thru burgers instead.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed at her, and she knew she’d missed the mark with her joke. The date had been going well so far; not much could have been ruined. He’d kissed her hello once, or four times, then told her to make herself at home. Rowan even had a beautiful arrangement of kingsflame at the table in the dining area. Their banter had ensued as it always did, casual teasing comments. Until she went too far. Obviously.

He turned his back, and Aelin tensed, moving across the kitchen to get to him. Just before she touched him, he turned back around, eyes widening almost comically when his elbow nearly hit her temple. Without her boots, her footsteps had been near-silent on his hardwood floors.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, fingers brushing her temple where his sweater had grazed her face. “Hi.”

“Hi.” With their dinner sizzling in the background, she was sure that he could hardly hear the soft whisper of her voice. That didn’t seem to matter because Rowan leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, short and sweet and leaving her wanting more. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Rowan’s brows knit together, green eyes tracing over every feature of her face before settling to meet her gaze.

“Being… me? Teasing? I don’t know. This is a date, and you’re so nice to be making dinner, and I shouldn’t be--”

“Aelin,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t busting my balls for something. I don’t think we would be us.” At the mention of them as an item, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth to ward off the embarrassingly large grin that was threatening to take over her face.

“That doesn’t mean I can be rude,” she grumbled, earning another smile from the man in front of her.

“You aren’t.” Rowan turned away from her for a brief moment. When he faced her again he held half of a cookie in his hand. “You just get hangry.”

She stared at the small offering in his hand before accepting it with a smile. Not only was he making her dinner, but it seemed he had also baked her double chocolate chip cookies. It made her heart squeeze in an almost painful way, but she took the cookie and nibbled on the corner. Whatever recipe he had used was perfect. It only made the rumbling in her belly worse, but she was determined to finish it without chocolate smeared all over her mouth.

“I’m almost done with dinner. Go snoop. I know you’re dying to.” Aelin wrinkled her nose, and Rowan was quick to kiss the tip of it, despite her failed attempt to swerve. Not that she wanted him to miss, really. Aelin wanted to beg him to kiss her until she was physically sick and couldn’t stand to feel his mouth on her body ever again.

The apartment was simple. It had one bedroom and an open living and kitchen area. Rowan had a small table that could seat four between the two rooms. It was sparsely decorated but had a few personal touches here and there that provided a glimpse into Rowan’s life. She walked around the living room, noting the pile of books stacked neatly next to the TV contained some of her favorites. She hadn’t pegged Rowan as an avid reader, but she realized that despite working with the man for the past two years, there was still so much she didn’t know about him.

And she realized, more than anything, that she wanted to know everything.

Furthermore, she’d been right about the books stacked on the coffee table. They were travel books, some of them with tabs and post-it notes sticking out of the sides. With a sly glance to the kitchen, she perched on the edge of the couch and pulled the biggest of them with the most annotations toward her, flipping through the pages to see what all he had bookmarked.

One of the first pages was a map marking all the parks and their major attractions. It seemed Rowan had a key for himself, little stars, triangles and squares marking various locations.

“The stars are my favorite places I’ve been,” Rowan said, pulling her gaze from pages of mountains and canyons and over to his green eyes.

“Is this what you do when you aren’t working?” Aelin closed the books and restacked them neatly on the table. Rowan was carrying two plates of stir-fry over to the table. In a few steps she joined him, sliding into the seat beside his.

“When I can, yes.” She was so hungry that she merely nodded, taking a too-large bite of food and meaning at the taste. Rowan’s eyebrow quirked while he took a bite of his own, and to avoid speaking with a mouthful she gave him a thumbs up.

“So good,” she reiterated after she swallowed, clearing her throat.

“I’m glad you like it. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“It’s food. I like food. And you baked cookies,” Aelin reminded him, popping another bite in her mouth. The tickle she seemed to be developing in her throat worsened, forcing her to clear her throat again after she swallowed. Actually, the tickle was becoming an insatiable itch that she tried to chase away with water. She had no luck. “Is your um— is your throat itchy?”

“No…?” Aelin tugged on the collar of her shirt, nodding her head instead of responding. Rowan leaned over to brush his fingers along her cheek, worry settling in the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Gods, my mouth is itchy,” she mumbled, mostly to herself, while she downed the rest of her water so quickly a drop slipped down the side of her chin.

“Aelin. What are you allergic to?”

“I’m not allergic to anything,” she insisted, despite the way her tongue felt undeniably too big for her mouth. Rowan had already left the table, though, disappearing through a door off the living room and coming back with a small white bottle. His phone was also now in his hand and the numbers his thumb was pressing looked a lot like 9-1-1 from her vantage point.

“Take these,” he said softly, holding two pills to her lips that she opened her mouth for and downed with Rowan’s full glass of water.

“That’s dramatic.” She nodded at his phone. “I can breathe fine. My mouth is just itchy. And my tongue is a little too big.” To prove a point, she stuck her tongue out. Rowan’s eyes were saucers and he was ready to hit the call button.

“Your tongue is twice the size it usually is!”

“Did you do this on purpose? Is this getting me back for the syrup?” Aelin was kidding. Half-kidding, maybe, but kidding all the same. When she spoke, drool dribbled down her chin that she wiped at with the collar of her shirt. The whimper that sounded in the back of her throat wasn’t voluntary. It was their first date and she managed to drool on herself in front of him. Aelin Galathynius was the epitome of cool.

“This is not getting you back for the syrup.” Rowan’s voice was sharp, if still soft around the edges while he watched her carefully. His thumb was still dancing over the call button, but Aelin refused to be carted out of his apartment on a stretcher. She took his phone, locked it, and held it hostage in her lap while he fussed and mumbled about how big her tongue was. “What are you allergic to?”

“I didn’t know I was allergic to anything,” she swore again, grabbing his water for another long drink.

It went on like this for several minutes: Rowan listing the ingredients for the stir-fry that she may not have had before, or maybe she’d not had it in such a long time she forgot she had a mild allergy to it. MSG, soy, celery, sesame, carrots, on and on. He ran through everything twice before Aelin asked him to please stop, she had no idea and listing them over and over wasn’t going to spark a memory or knowledge she didn’t have.

The signature frown he wore most of the time was all the more prominent the droopier her eyes got; the effects of Benadryl were hitting her harder than she cared to admit, but her throat wasn’t as itchy and her tongue was feeling closer to normal. Rowan held both of her hands and guided her to his bedroom. Aelin wanted to make a joke about how this wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but she was too sleepy to find the words.

Rowan undressed her, pulling her jeans off before guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. The duvet was softer, fluffier than she’d anticipated him to sleep on, and she wanted to burrow down into it as he replaced her shirt with one of his own. When he pulled back the blanket, she crawled under and didn’t settle until he laid down with her. His sweater was soft beneath her cheek and she felt like she was cuddling with him on a cloud. Gods, his bed was so comfortable she wanted to sleep in it forever.

“I’m sorry for ruining our date,” she mumbled, tilting her head back to look at him beneath heavy lashes and heavier lids.

“I’m sorry for accidentally almost killing you.” Despite the way his lips were turned down, there was amusement hidden in his words. Aelin smiled and tilted her head back enough for him to take the hint: she wanted to be kissed. A half smile spread across his lips and he kissed her gently, fingers brushing loose strands of her hair behind her ear.

“This isn’t how I imagined our date ending,” she grumbled, ducking her face down into his sweater. Rowan chuckled and Aelin knew that it wasn’t what he had in mind, either. “I thought I would end up in your bed but not to sleep. I mean, maybe after you fucked me senseless, but I didn’t think we would be skipping that part altogether.”

“I didn’t think I would make something that had flare up an obscure allergy you didn’t know you had, either. So I guess we’re both surprised.” Aelin snorted, sitting up enough to tug on the side of his sweater. Rowan took the hint, sitting up to pull the sweater and his shirt over his head. While in the process of undressing, he stood and pulled his jeans off, too, tossing them over the back of a desk chair in the corner of the room. Aelin swallowed, eyes dipping over the expanse of golden skin he’d exposed.

Her eyes caught on a scar on his lower abdomen, zeroed-in on the trail of hair that disappeared into his briefs. It dawned on her then that she hadn’t seen him completely naked. At work, they saw each other in various stages of undress while changing costumes, but the only time they’d had sex had been a quickie in Lorcan’s bathroom. They’d both been mostly clothed for that. She was making it a goal to see him entirely naked in the next twenty-four hours, because he looked so good like this it was unfair.

“Maybe I’ll feel better when I wake up,” she said, breathlessly. Rowan grinned, a dimple appearing in his cheek that she didn’t see often enough.

“I’m counting on it.”

#Disney au #Disney #rowaelin Disney au #throne of glass #tog #iwsiil #i won’t say I’m in love #rowaelin #Aelin galathynius #Rowan whitethorn #writing #my writing

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

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Having Anxiety And Dating The Batboys HC

req: “Dating the batboys and having anxiety hc? Thank you!”

awh this is such a cute ask, just know that when i talk about anxiety or panic attacks it’s from my own experience or generalizations! everyone’s mental health is different and that’s okay : ) i love you! hope you enjoy

Damian Wayne:

- dami would be really good at noticing your stressors in public and pulling you away from stressful environments

- he’s always been a silent observer and none of that changes when you’re having a panic attack

- just walking around the gala with your breath shaky and feet wobbly he’ll grab your hand and pull you to the outside of the room “beloved your breath is ragged and i can see your hands shaking, here, hold mine”

- he isn’t big on physical touch in public but will always be your rock, your steady hand to hold when everything else just seems shaky and unstable

- you always like to focus on his face, the way they flit over yours taking in all the signs of your anxiety, his lips ever so slightly turned into a frown while he’s focussed solely on you, his nose scrunched up in that cute way that always makes you want to sigh at how cute he is and suddenly it’s okay, because dami is there.

- and he’s always there.

- a constant source of structure and stability when you need it most, it’s his way of constantly reminding you he loves you, not directly through saying it but by showing up, coming to your aid whenever you call for him and always there to hold your hand and tell it’ll be okay, that’s how damian will show you, his slightly anxious but perfect s/o that he loves you <3

Tim Drake:

- i can’t explain why, but i just know tim is always there after the panic attack- does that make sense?

- when you text him that you had a rough, anxious night his response is always “omw love” and you best believe he’ll fly across country to bring you little candies and coffee and cuddles at any time of the night

- you would bond over shared mental health and your relationship would be so understanding, there would never be shame in canceling a date for a night of Disney movies and deep breaths or, on days where you feel amazing he’d be ready to actually let go of the cases and go out with you on one of your good days

- tim would be so lucky to have you in his life, you’d be there to advocate for his mental health and he’d always be there to help you

- there would be a bit of a learning curve for both of you, learning that now you have another person to lean on, i think that the both of you would be used to going it alone for so long it would be strange to actually have someone to rely on but once you did it would be like unlocking a new secret best friend 24/7

- imagine him zipping into your window late at night, his lightly shaky hands holding yours while you both tell each other to breathe, laughing at how you both were two messes trying to help the other

- laying down while he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear with a faint smile you’d cling to each other through the toughest nights or the best days- always together

Jason Todd:

- with an anxious s/o jason would be an affectionate monster!

- just imagine him busting through your door, arms filled with takeout, icecream, and your favorite goofy grin ready to cuddle happiness into your body while he smothers you with his affection

- if your hands are shaky he’d just hold it between his massive ones, toying with your fingers- kissing the pads, then the knuckles, to your wrist, until you’re giggling too hard to be crying

- speaking of crying, imagine his rough, slightly calloused fingers swiping away rogue tears that try to slip out whispering “c’mon baby i’m here no need for the tears”

- if you’re having an anxious day he’ll love to curl up with you in his lap while reading a book or working on research, just being in the room with you makes him happy and he loves to be there for you when you need it

- if you’re in a room that’s loud and doesn’t have to be (especially the mansion when tim and dami are having a screaming match) he won’t be afraid to pull you into a hug and scream “EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP” (think THIS VIDEO at 2:37)

- he’d be soooo protective of you when you’re having a rough day, like someone could look at you the wrong way and he’s smothering you in affection and flipping people off behind your shoulder while he does : )

Dick Grayson:

- dick hates that you get anxious, if he could he’d beat up all the stress in your life and cuddle you the whole time

- he’d want to do little breathing exercises with you, then he’d get excited when you’re doing better and forget to breathe, breaking your focus as he turns purple, you’d always break out laughing but it helps all the same : )

- he’d make little signals with you to check that you’re doing well, think tiny little thumbs up or down or sideways so he knows how you’re doing without anyone else even realizing

- imagine the cuddle pile with you in dick’s lap while you relax your head back on his shoulder and dami cuddling in your lap, the both of you held in by dick’s arms wrapped around all of you, quietly running your hands through damian’s hair while dick presses smiley kisses to your neck asking if you feel better now

- you guys would go on long walks together, i think dick would really want to understand what your anxiety is like, he’d want to know the best way to help you and understand every part of who you are

- when he notices you’re anxious he likes to pull you out of the room and check in, he’s really attentive and kind about it and never EVER thinks less of you because of your anxiety, he constantly reminds you that he loves every single piece of you always

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miracleonice87 · 3 years

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’tis the damn season

an Auston Matthews song fic

a/n: based on the absolute masterpiece that is ’tis the damn season by Taylor Swift from evermore. This one was not on my WIP list but came over me as soon as I heard the song when the album dropped. also have no idea how it became my longest piece yet, by far (as in 12k+ whoops). obviously, I do not own any of the music/lyrics to this song nor any other I write about.

summary: Auston Matthews and his ex-girlfriend are reunited in their hometown years after their difficult breakup.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sex, a delicate balance of angst and fluff. a bit of a slow burn, if you want to call it that.

_____

You might have been one of the few people on the planet who disagreed with the phrase, “There’s no place like home for the holidays.” At least, for the last few years, that hadn’t exactly been your sentiment.

But, you were home anyway, after a few weeks of your mother’s guilt tripping and your father’s repeated phone calls. And, admittedly, you were enjoying your quiet time at home with your parents.

After helping your mom bake a few dozen cookies for the Christmas Eve party they were throwing tomorrow night, you wandered upstairs to your childhood bedroom to change out of your flour-covered attire and maybe squeeze in a nap. An undeniable perk of staying with your parents during the holidays — so many opportunities to sleep. As you pulled on a well-worn, long-sleeved ASU t-shirt you found hanging in your closet, your phone rang.

You groaned and swore to yourself that if it was your editor again, you were quitting. She’d already interrupted your time off at least once throughout each of your three days at home thus far — your first week of vacation in the two and a half years you’d been with the fashion magazine. You rolled your eyes and reached for the sounding device on your bed, then recoiled when you saw the contact name — or rather, initials — on the screen.

Oh, god.

Even worse, the years-old contact photo popped up behind the name — a picture of the two of you lying together on the shore on your vacation four years ago, right after the draft, when you both still held onto the naive belief that nothing that had just happened in his world would change things between the two of you.

“Shit,” you whispered, covering your mouth while anxiety coursed through your veins.

You couldn’t just not answer. Right? The two of you were on decent terms, though you couldn’t quite remember the last time you’d spoken — probably seven, eight months ago. You had no good reason to ignore his call.

And after all... you were the one who had ended things.

You cleared your throat and, trying to coach yourself into mustering up some semblance of courage, quickly repeated, “Okay, okay, okay, okay.” Then, like ripping off a bandaid, you hurriedly tapped the green button and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Matthews,” you greeted curtly — tentatively.

“Kels. Come over,” Auston said abruptly, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I know you’re home.”

You squinted and glanced around your room, racking your brain as you tried to figure out how exactly your ex-boyfriend knew your current whereabouts.

“What?” you asked, puzzled, not to mention slightly shocked that he was even interested in seeing you in person — though some part of you was, indeed, grateful for that. “How did you even know I was in Scottsdale?”

“Uh, your Instagram story, my dear,” he said, obviously amused. “You posted this morning from that new coffee shop between the Methodist church and our old school building. Remember?”

You rubbed a hand over your face, suddenly regretting adding him to your close friends list on Instagram six weeks ago after a few glasses of wine with your girlfriends.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, eliciting a chuckle from Auston.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself thinking I sit around and stalk you, sweetheart,” he teased. “I thought about replying but I didn’t wanna slide into your DMs and look like a fuckboy.” He paused, and you opened your mouth to make a halfhearted wisecrack that you didn’t truly mean, but before you could speak, he added, “Plus you probably get so many DMs, I’m sure mine would just get lost in the shuffle.”

Again, you rolled your eyes. “Matthews,” you repeated, whinier now.

“C’mon, Kels. Just come over,” he whined back. “I just got in last night. I’m staying at my parents’ house. My sisters nearly busted down my door when they saw you were back in town, plus I know my mom and dad would love to see you.”

Suddenly, two decades’ worth of memories that you had long ago pushed to the back of your mind flooded all at once to the forefront of your consciousness. Sleepovers watching Disney Channel movies and eating peach rings with Alex and Brey. Brian scooping you up in his arms after a nasty tumble off your bike on their street, propping you on the kitchen counter as he bandaged the scrapes on your knees, Auston never leaving your side nor letting go of your hand. Road trips with Ema to watch Auston play in countless tournaments, with you doing homework in the front seat while Ema sang along to the radio. Matthews family dinners eating Ema’s famous chicken tortilla soup. Vacations and carpool and pickup basketball games and shopping for prom dresses and just the mundane, everyday routine you had been part of for so many years.

And those were just the memories that involved his sisters, his parents. You didn’t dare let your mind uncover the buried memories of him, and him alone.

You missed them. Sometimes you missed them all so much that it made your heart physically ache and your stomach drop and your mouth go dry.

So, you drew a long, deep breath, and against your better judgment, eventually said, “Okay. Fine. But you have to send me your parents’ address. I haven’t been to the new Matthews McMansion.”

Auston huffed on the other end. “So mean to me.”

_____

It was certainly a far cry from the modest old ranch-style house where Auston had spent his childhood.

As you pulled up to the sprawling estate in the bougie part of town and cut your engine, you whispered, “What the fuck am I doing here...”

And still, after a quick check of your makeup in your rearview mirror, you got out of the car, closed your door and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head, sighing as you took in the four vehicles parked in front of yours in the roundabout driveway, none of which you had ever seen before. Audi, Mercedes, BMW, Porsche. Well, you could guess which one was Auston’s.

You walked up the stone sidewalk and slipped your aviators into your purse — it was only then that you noticed that your hands were trembling.

You cleared your throat and exhaled sharply, willing your nerves to subside, as you arrived at the door and pressed the button on its frame, sounding an elaborate chime inside.

“I got it,” you immediately heard a familiar voice call, and you took a startled step backward as you saw his figure approaching through the decorative glass panes outlining the doorway. As he pulled open the door, the flutter you’d tried your hardest to avoid feeling for three years took flight once more in your belly.

“Matthews,” you greeted again, arms crossed in front of you in hopes of hiding your shaking hands.

“Why’d ya bother to ring the doorbell, you nutjob?” Auston asked with a broad smile.

Before you could throw a snide remark back at him, he pulled you into himself, one arm snaking around your mid-back and the other hand cradling your head to his chest. Inadvertently, you exhaled contentedly, and you swore you felt Auston tighten his grip on you then. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself relax into him for longer than you had intended. He just felt so… familiar. Broad. Strong. Comforting.

He was just… Auston. A thousand things had changed for the two of you, but the way you felt in his presence hadn’t changed since you were a little girl.

You inhaled his cologne, and you noticed that he was doing just the same — breathing in your long-worn Chanel No. 5 perfume, the same kind he used to save up all year to buy you each Christmas.

At that memory, you snapped back to reality and extricated yourself from his embrace, leaving him looking slightly disappointed, though still pleased with your greeting.

“Hi,” you spoke simply as you stared up at him, then chuckled at how stupid that sounded.

“Hi,” he mimicked, head bobbling and eyes widening, causing you both to fall into a giddy fit of nervous laughter over nothing at all.

Just then, you saw Ema’s head pop out from beneath an arched opening toward the back of the house — probably leading to the kitchen, you assumed. Ema was always in the kitchen.

“I thought I heard your laugh,” she sang. You couldn’t help but beam, and Auston smiled and moved out of your way so that you had a direct pathway to his mother. Taking advantage of that, you made a beeline for the petite woman you considered your second mom, already feeling emotion bubbling up in your throat as tears blurred your vision.

“Oh, mija,” Ema said, her voice tight as she met you in the middle of the grand entryway and gathered you into her arms. “Te extrañamos,” (we miss you) she said sincerely.

Auston cupped the back of his neck and quickly looked away then, fearful that he may just shed tears of his own.

You sniffled and murmured, “Los extrañé a todos mucho,” (I missed you all so much) into Ema’s shoulder as she smoothed her hand lovingly over the back of your head.

When you finally parted, moving past the brief sadness of the reunion, Ema still held tightly to your hands, extending her arms so that she could see you better.

“You look more beautiful than ever!” she exclaimed, and you dropped your head bashfully at her compliment. “California is treating you well.”

You nodded. “For the most part,” you remarked with a sigh. Ema glanced quickly from your face to her son’s and back again, deciding not to dwell for too long on that loaded response.

“Well,” she pivoted with a click of her tongue. “You look great. Now come, come! I know Auston’s going to want to steal you away from me, not that I blame him, but I just put on some tea, so let’s sit and have some first.”

“Ma…” Auston protested lightheartedly. Ema wagged her finger at him. “Shh! Mijo! My long lost daughter has returned. Give me ten minutes for a cup of tea with her.”

Auston’s lips parted at her use of the word “daughter,” not that he should have been surprised by it, and you tossed him an animated shrug as Ema pulled you down the hallway back from whence she came. You were right — it was the kitchen, and it was a spectacular one at that.

“Holy…” you trailed off as Ema patted one of the leather barstools at the enormous island in the center of the room. You took a seat, pulling your cross body bag from your shoulder and placing it on the island, and commented, “This kitchen is incredible, Ema. I’m sure you love spending time here.”

Ema nodded and excitedly launched into stories of using all the appliances and gadgets she had never owned before, walking back to the teakettle on the stove as Auston sat down on the nearest barstool, feeling as though he could simply be dreaming, hallucinating, that you were here, sitting with him in his parents’ kitchen. But when you noticed him taking the seat next to yours, you tossed him a classic Kelsey smile and nudged his shoulder with your own, and he felt just slightly more confident that this was reality. Unable to resist your magnetism, which hadn’t faded with time but seemed instead to have only grown stronger, he squeezed your knee beneath the countertop, just as Ema approached with a cup of tea in hand for you.

Choosing to react instead to Ema rather than her son, you grinned and thanked her, feeling Auston’s eyes on you as you lifted the mug to your lips and took small sips, Ema still prattling on happily from the other side of the kitchen. You eventually cast a sidelong glance Auston’s way, accompanied by an amused smirk, the combination of which left him beaming as he looked away from you and back toward his mother, who now approached with two more cups of tea.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said as he wrapped his hands around the mug she offered him.

“You’re welcome, mijo,” Ema replied. “Now Kelsey, honey, how long are you in town?”

“Uh, just until the day after Christmas,” you replied, swirling a finger along the ceramic rim of your mug. “This is the most time I’ve taken off since I started at the magazine,” you admitted with a hint of embarrassment.

Ema nodded. “Your mother said you haven’t made it home for a while. I know they keep you pretty busy there. Is that why you don’t visit so much?” she asked unassumingly.

Auston dropped his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly against the tile floor, and your eyes flickered to him as you racked your brain for an answer that wasn’t a complete lie but also didn’t unmask the whole truth — which was that being in a town that held so much history with your ex was simply too suffocating to bear, even for a quick visit with your parents. So, you typically just stayed in California where you could throw yourself into your work as a fashion writer at a well-known publication and operate under the illusion that you had moved on. From Scottsdale, from Auston, from your life before Los Angeles.

And especially from Toronto.

But the problem was, when the night fell and the lights all faded and you were left to face the truth, you knew in your heart that that’s really all it was — an illusion.

And from 2,500 miles away, Auston knew it, too. He knew it because he was living the same lie.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied sheepishly. “That’s the gist of it. Just, uh, just hard to get away sometimes. My parents usually come out to visit me instead since their schedules are, uh, a little more flexible.”

“Right,” Ema said skeptically as you took a long pull from your mug, despite the hot liquid singing your tongue and making your eyes water. “Well, either way, it’s so good to finally see you here,” she added warmly.

“It’s good to see you too,” you breathed, honesty dripping from that answer.

Auston finally looked at you again, giving you an understanding smile. Even that smallest of gestures made you dizzy.

“So,” you said as you moved away from the topic, sitting up a bit straighter. “Where are the girls? Where’s Brian?”

“Golfing,” Auston answered. “Like always,” he added with a chuckle.

“Why am I not surprised?” you teased, making both Ema and Auston laugh.

“They begged Auston to come with them, but he turned them down,” Ema informed you. “And now we know why.” She lifted her eyebrows and took another sip of her tea as Auston shook his head.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he joked. “But no, they’ll be back soon. They can’t wait to see you.”

You brightened at that, not having seen the Matthews girls in nearly as long as it had been since you’d seen Auston himself, finding it easier to breathe when they weren’t nearby, reminding you of him with their every mannerism. And yet, you’d found that starving yourself of their friendship and their company ached nearly just as much.

“I can’t wait either,” you said through a distant smile.

“And Dad will probably cry more than Mom did when he sees you,” Auston predicted, lifting his mug. Ema swatted at his arm.

“Don’t start with me!” she warned. “I happened to see you choking up out there, too.”

You turned to Auston and raised an accusing brow at him. He simply chuckled into his tea and looked away, and the three of you sat in silence for a beat.

“Come on,” he finally said as he rested his mug on the island, nodding his head in the direction of the sliding glass door at the back of the house. “Lemme show you the patio.”

You nodded, knowing full well that showing off the backyard was not the real reason he was inviting you outside. Despite that knowledge, you hopped off the barstool, put your mug in the sink, and kissed Ema on the cheek as you passed her.

“Thanks for the tea, mamacita,” you said with a smile, squeezing her shoulders. “Anytime, mi amor,” she replied, sending a wink your way as you turned to follow Auston.

He slid open the door and motioned for you to step through it first. When he saw his mother watching you through the kitchen window, he gave her a knowing smirk, and she put her hands up in innocence. But as she watched you two walk out onto the patio through the glass, she breathed a silent prayer to any higher power who would listen that maybe, just maybe, you would finally come home.

Not to Scottsdale, no. Home to Auston.

Meanwhile, you were trailing your hand along the hammock near the pool, taking in the scene and trying to remember to breathe. When you heard him close the door, you turned back to Auston, your eyes floating around the backyard.

“Nice setup they’ve got back here,” you grinned, Auston chuckling with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

“Yeah, it’s even nicer in the summer,” he commented. You nodded, stepping closer to the pool and lowering yourself to sit on the edge, patting the space next to you as an invitation for Auston to do the same.

“We have chairs, ya know,” he grumbled as he took a seat. “Not all of us like to sit on the floor all day doing yoga.”

You sneered at him. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I do all day long,” you said sarcastically.

“Well, you used to, anyway,” he mumbled.

You gulped as visions of him watching you do precarious yoga poses on the living room floor of his apartment flickered in your mind’s eye, and then, once again, you moved right along.

“So… how’s it going, Matthews? How’s life?” you prompted, not even sure if you truly wanted to hear the answer to your inquiry.

He stretched out his long legs so that his feet were dangling above the water as he wondered where to even begin.

“It’s… it’s good,” he said. “Overall. It’s nice to be home for a few days. Needed that. I missed it. Missed my family. Missed…” he stopped himself, “…other things,” he added under his breath.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and decided to avoid the path he was taking this down. “How’s hockey?” you asked instead.

Auston shifted noticeably at the mention of his career, still painfully aware that, despite the successes it had brought him, it had ultimately caused the demise of your relationship.

“Hockey is… hockey,” he said. “Honestly it’s good on the whole. But the team’s not having the greatest year so far, which is rough.” You nodded, knowing better than most that the Toronto media operated at a different level of intensity and scrutiny than that of nearly all other markets, especially when the Leafs were losing, and especially when new blood was added into the equation, like Auston’s had been when they drafted him.

Like yours had been when you moved there with him.

The spotlight they shone on you — and the subsequent attention you received from so-called fans who took to the internet to question your intentions and integrity — had been far more than you bargained for.

Just as you were about to ask about how the guys on the team were faring, Auston spoke again.

“I think about calling you every time we come to LA, Kels,” he said, fixing his eyes on the neighbor’s house in the distance because he was simply unable to look at you while he admitted it. With a sniff, he added, “I’m not gonna lie about that.”

“Why don’t you?” you asked after a beat, maybe unfairly, studying his familiar profile. His features were the same, of course, but he looked… more mature. Older. Wiser. All that jazz. Auston shrugged, still not capable of looking at you.

“Just didn’t think you’d want me to,” he answered dejectedly. Your heart sank into your stomach. Given the things you’d said when you left him nearly three years ago, you could hardly blame him for that one.

“Well,” you started with a sigh. “I guess we could call it even then, because I think about coming to see you play every time you come to LA. Or Anaheim. Or even Vegas. And obviously Phoenix.”

“Well why didn’t you just call me asking for free tickets then,” he said in a tone that he tried to disguise as facetious, but you heard the hurt seeping into his words. “Everybody else I know in any NHL city does.”

You felt a fierce sense of protectiveness then, clenching your jaw as you tried to calm your irate thoughts. You watched him pick at the sleeve of his black Raiders crewneck and felt deeply for him — this man you’d loved since he was a little boy.

“Do they really? Still?” you asked in monotone.

Auston nodded, squinting in the sunlight. “Yup,” he answered, popping the ‘p.’ “Every game.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, covering your eyes with your hand and pushing into your temples. You blew out a long breath. “Fuck. I’m really sorry about that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I… it just sucks.”

Auston shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” he stated. “Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t. Kinda depends on whether the person’s actually talked to me lately.”

You nodded as he chuckled sadly, and you felt your chest tighten. “Well,” you began, clearing your throat. “I guess I wouldn’t qualify then because we haven’t talked much.”

Auston looked at you with intensity surging in his deep brown eyes, and you wanted to look away but found that you couldn’t.

“You always qualify,” he said seriously. “You’re one of the only people that qualifies.”

You bit down, hard, on your bottom lip and grappled internally with the weight of his comment. Then he said sarcastically, “Besides, I know you’re only after my money. I mean, you forced me to buy you that Louis bag the week after I got drafted.”

Your jaw dropped at his joke, and you scoffed indignantly. “Oh, yeah, the one you finally had to hide in my closet after I kept sneaking it back into your car because I wanted you to return it?” you corrected. “Yeah, ya caught me. You know me, Aus. Such a gold digger.”

Auston had started laughing halfway through your quip, but stopped suddenly. You gave him a questioning look, and he paused before answering.

“You called me Aus,” he stated with a smile he tried and failed to hide. “You went back to calling me Matthews after we broke up. But you… you just called me Aus again.”

“Yeah, well...” you grumbled, “Don’t get too excited.” You tossed him a smirk and he mirrored it, basking in the comfort of the moment.

“So whaddya think of the place? Not bad, right?” he finally asked, glancing around the property, back at the house, then settling his focus back on you.

You shrugged. “A little gaudy for my taste, but...” you began, and Auston shook his head bemusedly, knowing he set himself up for that one.

“No, it’s great. I can see how much your mom loves it. In all seriousness, I think it’s amazing, everything you’ve done for your family. Your parents. It’s pretty incredible,” you said earnestly. “I don’t think I said it enough when we were together, but, I’m really proud of you, Aus. And I don’t just mean about the hockey.”

Auston nodded soberly, turning his head to look you in the eye.

“I know you don’t,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Kels. It means a lot coming from you. More, uh… more than you know.”

And then, before you could think twice about doing so, you reached out your hand to rest atop his, feeling its familiar warmth as your fingertips grazed the raised veins there. Auston swallowed hard, blinking at where your hands now met, and slowly wrapped your fingers in his, giving them a squeeze. You exchanged long stares before you eventually slammed on the brakes in your brain and carried on.

“So, you just casually hang out with Justin Bieber now?” you asked, reaching your palms behind you and leaning back. “And the wildest shit is that I saw it first when he posted it, not you.”

Auston chuckled, looking down at his slides and — ironically — Drew socks combo. In his signature way, he halted his laughter on a dime and his face turned somber as he said dryly, “Yeah, I’m like really famous now, yanno?”

You sighed in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you looked skyward, feeling Auston’s gaze turn to you. You let it go for a few moments before shifting only your eyes toward his.

“What?” you asked accusingly. You could tell by the faraway smirk on his face that he was lost in a memory.

“Remember you had posters of him hung up all over your room in like middle school? From Tiger Beat magazine and shit? And now I play video games and mini sticks with the guy,” Auston said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and if you ever tell him about that, I’ll end your life,” you threatened, shoving at his arm and attempting to ignore how much his biceps had grown since you last touched them. And then you were slamming the door shut on a rush of memories of having him beneath your touch — some innocent, but most intimate.

Auston saw it in your eyes — the place you went for a moment — as you dropped your hand back to the concrete beneath you. He knew where you went because, so often, he went there, too.

He held your gaze and promised, “Your secret’s safe with me. You know that.”

Only a hint of a smile graced your lips for a fleeting moment as you ran your fingers through your hair. Suddenly, you felt the heaviness of the history between the two of you closing in — smothering you, like it always did. Auston watched helplessly, wishing it didn’t have to be this hard.

And then, in a flash, like he so often did to save you from your swirling thoughts, he casually changed the topic as he commented, “Your hair’s shorter. You look like your mom. In a good way.”

Blushing, you breathed a laugh through your nose. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I think it’s the highlights, too.”

“It is,” Auston confirmed, and then — damn him — he reached out and looped a lock from the front of your face between his thumb and forefinger, the way he had done a thousand times before, usually mid-conversation, always absentmindedly. This time, you knew, as you forced your eyes to meet his, it was a bit more calculated. “I really like it,” he told you.

You nodded, searching his eyes to try and determine whether he had any idea what this — this moment, this visit, this day — really was.

“If you’re gonna ask me what we’re doing,” Auston spoke, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, “then I have to tell you I have no idea.”

Again, damn him. After all this time, it was like he still lived inside your brain and had read your every thought like the morning paper before you even had the chance to convey it. Which used to save you in a lot of ways. Now it felt kind of… intrusive. But somehow you didn’t mind.

“I had no idea what I was even gonna say when I called you. All I know,” he continued, still flipping the strand of hair around his fingers, “is that I really wanted to see you, and that I was really happy when you came, and that I’m really enjoying this time with you.”

You nodded, and as he pulled his hand from your face, his thumb brushed your jawline just slightly, and that touch alone sent a bolt of lightning through you. Auston smiled softly as he said barely above a whisper, “Okay, now it’s your turn to say something.”

You heaved a sigh, tipping your head back with eyes closed and soaking in the sunshine. “I don’t expect you to know, Aus,” you finally spoke. “I was just so... so shocked, I guess, that you wanted to see me. It’s been so long, I just... I didn’t know when I would see you again.”

“We’ve talked though,” Auston pointed out with a sigh to match yours, pulling a knee to his chest and wrapping his arms around his bent leg. “FaceTimed. Texted.”

You rolled your head toward him. “It’s not the same,” you reasoned softly, hesitantly reaching out your hand to tuck some of his black hair behind his ear. He licked his lips swiftly and placed a peck to your thumb before you slowly withdrew your hand.

“You’re right,” Auston conceded. “Definitely not the same.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt...”

You were snapped out of your private moment by one person’s voice and another person’s squeal behind you.

“Oh, my god!” you yelled as you shot up from the side of the pool, Alexandria and Breyana already scampering toward you from the back door.

“It’s about goddamn time you came back to us!” Alex shrieked, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I missed you, little sister,” she cooed, rubbing her hands across your back, and you hummed in agreement.

“I missed you, Al,” you replied, kissing her temple as you stepped back to greet the youngest of the Matthews clan.

“And you. My baby!” you exclaimed, pulling Breyana into your arms. “The true star athlete of the family,” you teased as she squeezed your waist.

“Damn straight,” Breyana giggled. “I missed you, Kels. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You pulled away, glancing behind you as you saw Auston slowly approaching out of the corner of your eye. “Me either,” you admitted, eyes widening dramatically as the girls snickered at you. “How was golf?”

“Brey smoked us, no surprise,” Alex replied. “But shut up about the golf. Tell us what’s going on with you two.”

“Alex!” Auston warned, shooting her a glare. “Please don’t.”

Alex gave him her best older sister roll of the eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as Breyana looked between the two of you.

“Nope,” Alex refused. “Not until you tell me what’s up. C’mon, spill.”

“We’re just...” you began, swiveling to look Auston’s way as he smirked down at you, happy to let you flounder in this one all on your own. “Visiting,” you finished, nodding once at Alex, pleased with your choice of verbiage.

“Honestly, you guys…” Breyana lamented.

“Visiting, huh?” Alex echoed, growing even more suspicious. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Wear protection. Anyways, uh—“

“Alex!” Auston repeated, this time through clenched teeth. “I swear to god...”

“Anyways, like I was saying,” Alex continued. “Your parents invited us all to their house tomorrow night for the Christmas party. I didn’t think you were gonna be there — does this mean you will?”

You nodded, causing Alex to clap excitedly. “I’ll be there with bells on,” you confirmed. “I already made my shortbread cookies.” All three siblings moaned in delight at the mention of your famous treats.

“Hell yeah! Plus that means we won’t be the only ones escaping to the balcony to drink,” Breyana commented.

“Brey, you’re like twelve,” Auston taunted, earning him a sharp elbow to the ribs from his younger sister. “You don’t get to drink with us.”

“Whatever,” she retorted. “Like you guys weren’t sneaking Mom and Dad’s liquor when you were younger than me.”

“Anyways,” Alex said yet again, clearing her throat. “We’re gonna go back inside now and shower, and just, uh, leave you guys to whatever it is you were doing beside the pool there. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. See ya,” she sang, spinning Breyana by the shoulders and guiding her inside, both girls whispering and giggling all the while. “Kels, I’ll call you tonight — you can tell me all about it!” Alex called over her shoulder, sliding the door closed.

You turned to see a pink tinge to Auston’s cheeks as he muttered, “Sorry,” with a dry laugh. You shook your head.

“No, don’t be,” you insisted, waving him off as you took a seat at the glass picnic table beside you, Auston following your lead. “It wouldn’t be a visit to the Matthews house without Alex torturing the both of us,” you teased.

Auston nodded. “Very true,” he said, and you knew he didn’t want to stop there, but he couldn’t seem to find what he did want to say next.

Instead, you ventured, “So what are your—”

At the very same time, he started, “Kels, would you maybe—”

You both chuckled at yourselves, locking eyes. This certainly wasn’t the first time this had happened in conversations — far from it. And usually, you were about to say the very same thing.

So, you motioned for him to speak first.

He toyed with the band of his watch as he said nervously, “I was just gonna say, uh, would you maybe wanna go to dinner with me? Tonight?”

You sat back in your chair, smirking, fully aware that you were teetering on a damn fine line.

“I was hoping you might say that.”

_____

An hour later, after reuniting with Brian (Auston was right — he cried more than the rest of his family combined when he hugged you), you headed home to change for dinner. As you pulled away from the Matthews house, you were thankful that Auston had offered to follow you in his own vehicle so that he could drive you to dinner, which in turn gave each of you a few minutes to breathe.

Surprisingly, your mother didn’t seem at all shocked to see the guest you had brought back with you. You had told her that you were going to visit the Matthews’, not specifying which member of the family had invited you, though she could venture a guess. When she watched two vehicles pull into the driveway side by side, she inhaled an excited gasp, a smile overwhelming her features as she came to meet you at the front door, just as you laughed at a lame joke Auston cracked about your driving.

Your mother nearly tackled him in a hug, which he warmly returned. He shared a similar bond with your mom to the one you shared with his, which was yet another piece that fit perfectly into the puzzle that was your relationship. So many pieces fit, and so few didn’t, but that still didn’t make things whole.

But, you ignored that thought — and so many others — as you left the two to chat, bounding up the stairs to change, now grateful that you’d brought more than one nice option to wear to the Christmas party tomorrow, considering the rest of your suitcase was filled with comfy loungewear.

How could you have ever planned for this?

After touching up your hair and makeup and putting on the more understated of the dressy outfits you’d brought, you returned to the kitchen where your mom and Auston stood huddled at the counter, near empty glasses of red wine in front of them both.

“Already boozin’, huh?” you teased as you folded your arms in front of you. They chuckled, and Auston glanced at you over his shoulder with a smile. When he laid eyes on you, though, he stood straight up and turned to face you, making no attempt to hide his stare, even in front of your mother. Without taking his gaze off of you, he threw back his final sip of wine and blew out a flustered breath. You knew you were blushing, so you walked past him to your mother, pressing your cheek to hers for an air kiss so as not to mess up your lipstick.

“Sorry to take your favorite boy away from you, but we should head out,” you announced as you looked back at Auston. He cleared his throat, walking to the other side of the countertop to hug your mom again, thanking her for the wine and something else that you didn’t quite catch.

He followed you down the hall, his hand ghosting along the small of your back as you reached for your purse on the coat rack. You looked back and blew a final kiss to your mom, who waved as she watched Auston open the passenger door of his car and help you in — both of you giggling as you crouched into the low-riding vehicle in your skirt and high heels. Like a mom of a young teen, she stood at the window and watched the two of you drive down the block and out of sight, hands clasped together wistfully as she turned back to finish placing the final decorative touches in the living room ahead of tomorrow.

Just a minute later, your dad came through the door from the grocery store, calling for her, sounding nearly breathless.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, smoothing the silk ribbon wrapped around the banister.

“Marie… did I just see Auston driving Kelsey down the road in a Porsche?” he gaped, his brow furrowed, thumb pointed over his shoulder.

She laughed, looking downward as she nodded.

“Yes, you did,” she confirmed, then looked at him as she felt tears welling. “Jack... I can’t say for sure, but I think maybe the girl is finally coming to her senses.”

A smile spread slowly across your father’s face and he came toward your mother, wrapping her in a hug.

“Well…” he began, kissing her temple. “Then maybe we’ll get our Christmas wish after all.”

“And what’s that?” your mom asked.

“For her to be happy again.”

_____

“You look amazing, Kels,” Auston said seriously from the driver’s seat. “Gorgeous.”

You gave him a coy smile and briefly inspected the outfit he’d chosen before leaving his own parents’ house.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Auston grinned and decided he would take that.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to the restaurant you had already known he’d had in mind when he asked you to dinner, without even needing to discuss it. The same Italian restaurant where you’d celebrated infinite birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Days, and other milestones. You fell into easy conversation during drinks and appetizers before Auston told a comical story about his teammates which led to an in that he knew he needed to take.

“They miss you, you know,” Auston stated cautiously between bites of his shrimp scampi. “Mo. Mitchy. Especially Steph.”

You folded and unfolded the seams of the cloth napkin in your lap, considering your response.

“I miss them, too,” you eventually murmured. “So be real with me. You really like it there now?” you leveled with him.

His demeanor shifted — in a good way — as he replied. “It’s honestly great. I mean, you’d love it there now, Kels. I swear,” Auston said, shaking his head in wonder. “’M not just saying that. I mean, the hype is still there, yes, but it’s not at the level it was when I first started. Mitchy and Mo and Willy and I, all us guys who kinda started out together, we’ve all sort of found our groove with the media and stuff, and for the most part, it’s great. I have a feeling it’ll just keep getting better, too.”

You watched his eyes light up as he spoke about Toronto, relief and happiness washing over you. It didn’t seem so long ago that Auston was curled up on the couch, near tears, head in your lap, feeling incapable of living up to the expectations set for him — almost buckling under the immense pressure, the likes of which he had never felt before.

You let out a teary chuckle, swiping at a teardrop on your cheek that had fallen as he answered, taking you by surprise.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that, Aus,” you told him, holding your hand over your heart as it soared within you.

Auston nodded slightly, and his lips twitched into a sad smile. “There’s still something that doesn’t feel right though,” he confessed, though it didn’t feel much like a secret. “Still something missing.”

“And what’s that?” you asked timidly as you lifted your wine glass, excited for and fearful of his answer at all once.

“You.”

Forcing yourself to swallow your merlot so you didn’t spray it across the table, you put your fist to your mouth, holding it there while you attempted to process his latest, and most brazen, admission.

“I mean… look, there have been a few others,” Auston continued with a mindless shrug. “But never anything serious, and never anyone that I’m not constantly comparing to you in every possible way,” he told you, rolling his fingertips on the table and focusing on his hand as he spoke. “Feel kinda bad actually, because I know they all thought it was something more than it really was, and then I was always the one to break things off. I didn’t purposely lead them on, I just... once I got into it, I realized my feelings just weren’t in it.”

You opened your mouth to speak, hands limp in your lap, and then closed your lips in a tight line as you mulled over his words. You inhaled a shuddering breath and looked down, feeling the same shame that had overcome you countless times before come back again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered without lifting your eyes.

“Kelsey…” Auston spoke firmly. “Look at me. Please.”

You did as he asked, lips pursed, and were met with his adoring, enchanting gaze, always too forgiving of your faults and mistakes.

“It’s okay,” he promised sincerely. “I understand. Trust me on that. I’ve always understood where you were coming from, but it seemed like there was just… just nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do to make you stay, or to bring you back. That’s what made it so hard. That’s what still makes it so hard.”

You nodded. “Well — what you’re doing right now — whatever this is… it’s working,” you divulged, knowing this was a dangerous game and no longer caring.

“Is it?” Auston asked, a full-blown smile appearing now on his lips. Those lips you missed so damn much.

“Yeah,” you giggled, both of you grinning. “God, I missed your smile, Aus.”

“My smile?” he asked incredulously, then scoffed. “Your smile fucking breaks my heart, Kelsey,” he told you in his deepest tone, biting at the inside of his cheek as if he was trying not to lean across the table and kiss you full on the mouth right then and there.

And now, as you saw that look in his eye that you knew so well, you knew two things.

One, you were fucked. And two, you were in desperate need of a minute.

“I, uh, I gotta run to the ladies’ room,” you told him, standing, feeling unsteady as you pushed in your chair. Auston nodded knowingly and said, “Take all the time you need.”

You brushed a hand over his shoulder, the other holding tightly to your crossbody bag, as you attempted to walk in a straight line toward the restrooms across the restaurant floor. You were only one glass of wine deep, yet this night was making your head feel as fuzzy as if you’d just done a row of shots. Once safely inside the bathroom, you tossed your purse on the counter and held tightly to the sink to try and settle yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to control your racing pulse.

Just then, you heard a toilet flush, and your sense of solitude was quickly shattered when you saw a familiar blonde figure step out of the bathroom and lean closer upon recognizing you.

“Kelsey!” she exclaimed, moving toward the sink.

“Holly! Oh, my god,” you laughed as you squeezed her upper arm.

“Here, let me wash my hands and then I’ll give you a real hug,” she promised as you both giggled.

You had been a cheerleader throughout high school, and Holly, a year your senior, had been captain the year before you took on the title. Though you two weren’t particularly close, you had always looked up to her, and you’d kept in touch for a couple of years after you graduated before mostly falling off, save for the occasional hype comment or story reply on social media.

“How are you, girl? You look gorgeous!” she said as she threw her arms around you.

“So do you! I’m doing well, thanks. Home for the holidays,” you offered as she stepped back and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s great! Me, too,” she replied, then smiled mischievously at you. “To be totally honest, uh… I saw you when you were being seated. I didn’t wanna be weird or like, intrude, or anything but… I saw you come in with Auston. Are you guys like… back together?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no,” you laughed nervously, feeling yourself blush under her questioning. “We’re not back together. Just, uh, just two old friends, uh, catching up, ya know?” you reasoned nonchalantly as you reached for your bag.

“Oh. Right. Well... ‘tis the damn season, am I right?” Holly said with a chuckle, her own cheeks slightly flushed as she feared maybe she had made you uncomfortable by addressing the elephant in the room.

“Right,” you nodded cordially, then took a step toward her and patted her hand, wanting to make sure she didn’t think you were upset by her comment. “It’s so good to see you, Hol. I’m gonna head back out there—“

“Kelsey, wait,” Holly said urgently, grasping your arm before you could turn away from her. You blinked at her several times, glancing between her grip and her face as you waited to hear what had gotten into her.

“I just have to tell you... for what it’s worth, you guys still look so happy together,” Holly said. “Even if that’s not what this is. I just... I wanted to tell you that. As someone who has known you both for a long time, Auston never smiles as much as he smiles when he’s with you. It’s just nice to see.”

You gaped at your old friend, speechless, and she scrunched her nose at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross the line, I just...” she trailed off.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to act casual. “No, no. Not at all. It’s okay. Thank you, for telling me. I just, I gotta run,” you said, leaning in to hug her again. “Bye, Hol. Have a merry Christmas.”

“You too, Kels. See you around,” She smiled as you moved toward the bathroom door. With one last polite nod at her, you exited and escaped to your seat.

As you reached the table, you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out and running your hand along the back of Auston’s neck and affectionately trailing your fingertips over the short hair there, as you had done for so many years when approaching him and sidling up to him. Instead, you smoothed your hand over your dress and sighed as Auston turned his head to look at you, grinning as he watched you sit.

“You get lost?” he teased. You chuckled, throwing your hair behind your shoulders.

“Something like that,” you muttered, immediately reaching for your glass of wine, which you could tell had been refilled in your absence. Auston hummed in acknowledgement as you took a long sip, watching you all the while.

“One more glass and then we get outta here?” Auston suggested as you set the glass down. You only nodded.

_____

“Remember when you had that old truck, with the tires that were always muddy, and we used to just ride around Scottsdale all night long?” you asked Auston, both of you reminiscing about days gone by after leaving the restaurant.

Auston nodded, running his pointer finger across his upper lip, the other hand on the wheel, as he watched the memory projecting in his mind.

“‘Course I do,” he told you, and you didn’t miss the way his tone changed when he did, making you smirk.

“So, where to next?” you prodded. “Back to Casa de Matthews?”

He shrugged ambiguously, but secretly, he knew just what he wanted to do. “We could just ride around. Like we used to. If you want. I mean, there’s no real reason for us to rush back to our parents’ houses, right?” he said with a snicker.

This could get messy as the mud on the truck tires, you thought, but your response was already tumbling from your lips.

“Okay,” you said, smiling at him. “I’d say let’s go drive through the rich neighborhoods and look at Christmas lights like we used to, but that’s where you and your parents live now, so...” You clicked your tongue and Auston rolled his jaw, acting completely offended to hide how much he had missed you chirping him. The way it melted him.

“We’re still going,” he insisted, turning the wheel at the next intersection and pulling a U-turn. “We’ll just, uh, we’re just gonna maybe skip a couple neighborhoods, that’s all.”

You laughed — a real Kelsey belly laugh — and Auston watched as you lit up his world yet again. He didn’t even need to see any Christmas lights this year. He had all the light he needed right next to him.

Minutes later, he passed the usual first turn on your holiday lights tour and you furrowed your brow.

“Aus, where are you going? I wanted to see Ranchero Nuevo first. We always start there,” you reminded him.

“No, what’s the actual first thing we do when we go see Christmas lights?” Auston asked, pulling instead toward the strip mall at the next light. When you saw the green glow of the Starbucks sign up ahead, you smiled as it dawned on you.

“Get hot chocolate,” you said fondly. Instead of answering, Auston simply sent a soft smile your way. “You’re the greatest,” you lauded, igniting a pride that burned bright in Auston’s chest.

“Anything for you, babe,” he said before he could even realize what he’d just done. He snapped his head your way and saw that you were trying your damnedest not to smile.

He was completely taken aback as you quipped, “You can call me babe for the weekend.”

Auston did a double-take and then nodded once at your phone in your hands, which had just lit up with two missed calls and a particularly accusatory text from one Alex Matthews that you decided you would have to tend to later.

“Write this down,” Auston instructed curtly.

“What do you mean?” you laughed, holding your phone up curiously.

“I want proof that you just said that to me,” he deadpanned, jutting his chin toward your glowing screen and sending you into a fit of laughter.

After you’d both recovered, Auston picked up your drink — large peppermint hot chocolate, like always — and a coffee for himself, and you set off to wind your way through the same neighborhoods you had driven through countless times, admiring most of the decorations and poking fun at the gaudiness of some, laughing all the while, without a care.

As he pulled into a neighborhood you knew to be just a stone’s throw away from where he had recently purchased a house, Auston took a deep breath, fingers gripping the steering wheel rigidly, and decided to take the leap and say what had been circling through his brain since you’d stepped foot in the vehicle after dinner but had only just now worked up the nerve to say.

“What if we didn’t go back to our parents’ places tonight?” he asked abruptly, the words sounding much more jumbled and rushed than they had in his head.

You chuckled anxiously, staring straight ahead. “What do you mean?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pressed on. “Hear me out. What if we just went to my place for the night instead? I don’t mean to like… to hook up, or anything,” he assured. “Just to be together. I just… I really fucking missed you.”

Uh, whoops. He hadn’t exactly meant to slip that last part in there, but it was too late to turn back now.

There was a lengthy pause and the car was frighteningly silent as you weighed your options.

“Well...” you eventually said, nibbling on your bottom lip. “If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.”

“Yeah?” Auston asked immediately, searching your face for confirmation that he had just heard you correctly. He couldn’t believe that this — any of this— was really happening.

You nodded.

“Yeah. And… Aus?” you spoke.

“Yes, Kelsey?” he asked softly, joy radiating from his whole being and seeping into his words.

You leaned your head back against the seat and reached to wrap your hand around his on the center console.

“I really fucking missed you, too,” you told him.

_____

“Why did you agree to come with me tonight anyway, Kelsey?”

You and Auston were each almost a full bottle of wine deep by the time he asked this, inhibitions now lowered. He’d barely finished giving you the tour before you were both so palpably overwhelmed by the reality of being alone together in his house, with so many feelings buzzing about frenetically, that you took the liberty of pulling a bottle of red from the wine fridge and asking for glasses and a corkscrew. Auston forked them over without question, and now you were deeply entrenched in the process of examining old battle wounds that had never quite healed.

“Because I missed you,” you answered truthfully. “And also because I owed it to you to accept your invitation when you took a chance by reaching out.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Kels,” he claimed, taking a swig.

You picked up your glass and passed by him as you began to pace the tile floor, unable to just be still during this exchange — this conversation that had been a long time coming.

“I do, though,” you argued. “You gave me everything. Everything. And I still left.”

Auston squeezed the stem of his wine glass so hard he feared he may just shatter it.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for the things I put you through because of my career choice,” he said firmly, a hand splayed against his chest as he accepted the responsibility, just like he always did.

“But you didn’t choose to have the media posted up outside our apartment every day. You didn’t choose to have strangers stalking me and my family online. You didn’t choose to have them calling me a distraction and a leech and a gold digger and a wh—“

“Don’t say it,” he warned as he lifted a finger, referencing the specific instance of the smearing of your character that had left you broken enough to start packing your bags.

“Okay,” you conceded quietly, knowing just how sick that one word had made him. “But listen. Yes, you chose to play hockey. But you didn’t choose all that shit that came along with it. You didn’t know! Hell, you didn’t even get to choose where you played. But even so… honestly, I used to blame you for everything. Because back then, it was just easier for me to deal with it that way.”

Auston’s head hung between his shoulder blades as he leaned his palms against the bar, reliving the very same pain that had eaten away at him for the past three years, especially the acute ache that had come in the weeks immediately after you left.

“I know you did — blame me, that is,” he said softly. “And I understand why.”

You took slow and deliberate steps back to where he stood and rubbed your hand soothingly across his broad back, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“Hey… look at me, huh?” you asked, gently guiding his face toward yours with your fingers. “I don’t blame you, Aus. I don’t,” you assured, your eyes piercing into his. “Not anymore. I’ve grown. I know I did this. I know it’s my fault that we’re like this. I mean, fuck, I broke my own heart, and I know I hurt you. I just... at the time, I didn’t see a way forward on the road we were on.”

Auston’s mind was firing on all cylinders as he tried desperately to compute what he’d just heard, convinced he was gathering more from your words than you meant for him to.

“And now?” he ventured.

He watched as your pained expression turned to one of, dare he even think it, hope.

“I still see it, Aus,” you said. “I still see us ending up together. I know it’s out of the blue, but…”

“It’s not though,” he said, cocking his head a bit to punctuate his point. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, any of this, but… to me, it’s not out of the blue. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he told you. “And I just need you to know that. Regardless of what happens next.”

“Auston, you and me together… that’s the only thing that makes sense. That’s all that’s ever made sense to me,” you said, clarity washing over you. “But I just, I wasn’t ready. And I got so scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle your life that I… I just ran.”

“You can run, Kelsey,” Auston said softly as he, yet again, twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “But only so far.”

“Yeah…” you whispered. Then, without hesitation, you grasped his chin between your forefinger and thumb, turning his face to yours and studying his brown eyes just for a heartbeat before pressing your lips to his.

And for now, that was all that needed to be said.

_____

You hadn’t slept together. But you had slept together.

Too much crying and laughing and kissing and rehashing and wondering aloud had left you both emotionally drained and physically exhausted, and after dragging yourself into the master bathroom to throw on a crewneck and a pair of Auston’s sweats, you’d promptly fallen asleep in his arms, a smile on his features even in sleep.

The next morning it occurred to you, with your cheek pressed against his bare chest and your legs entangled with his, that Auston’s bed — whether here, or in the house where he grew up, or in Toronto — was the warmest one you’d ever known. Though you could tell by the sunlight flooding the room that it was late in the morning, you couldn’t bear to move away from him.

Soon, he, too, began to stir. As he squinted in the daylight and peered down at you, he closed his eyes once more, a peaceful grin on his lips.

“Oh, thank god that wasn’t just a dream,” he whispered. You chuckled, your fingertips lazily drawing shapes on his pecs as you nuzzled your head further into his neck.

“Nope,” you established. “This is very, very real.”

You lay in quiet thought for a moment before adding softly, “But what happens now?”

At that, Auston’s eyes opened wider this time, a slight panic visible in his face.

“Well,” he began, smoothing his hand over your head and kissing your hair. “What happens now is that we get some coffee.”

You sighed at his attempt to make light of the situation and pushed yourself to sit straight up in bed, cross-legged in front of where he lay on his side.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you spoke, your fingers pulling anxiously at the bedsheet below. “Yesterday was like a fever dream and now... now we have to face reality.”

Slowly, Auston sat up, too, and pulled you into his lap, allowing you to rest your back against his torso as he gathered your hair at the nape of your neck in a makeshift ponytail.

“Everything that happened yesterday was reality, baby,” he insisted, kissing the crown of your head.

“Our feelings, yes,” you allowed. “But not the rest of it. I mean, fuck, we’re both leaving town in —“ you glanced at the bedside clock and were shocked by the 11:27 that stared back at you, realizing you’d practically slept in half the day — “48 hours. And then what? I go back to LA and you go back to Toronto and we just wonder about—“

“Baby, stop,” Auston begged as he turned you to face him, bringing your forehead to his lips. “Take a breath,” he said, stroking your jaw with his thumbs as he looked down at you, concern etched into his features. “We don’t have to figure all this out right this minute. In fact, we’re not going to. For right now, let’s just let this be what it is. And you have to try and stop spinning your wheels so fast. You’re gonna burn a hole in my floor,” he joked, kissing your nose.

You chuckled sadly, holding his wrists. “You’re right,” you eventually told him. “We’ll figure it out, somehow. I know we will,” you sighed, frowning. “First things first though, I have to get home and help my mom get ready for the party tonight.”

Before you could get out of bed to start gathering your things, Auston circled his arms around your hips and kept you in his lap. “Wait, gimme a smile first,” he requested.

You looked up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile, still distracted by the future of your relationship teetering precariously in the balance.

Auston shook his head. “That’s a fake Kelsey smile,” he accused, accurately. “Don’t even try me.”

With another deep sigh, you muttered, “You’re the only soul who can tell.”

“Who can tell what?” he asked, hugging you tighter.

You looked up at him for a moment, feeling more seen than you had in years. “Which smiles I’m faking,” you said quietly.

A pleased smile twitched at the corners of Auston’s lips before he pressed his mouth to yours.

_____

Auston walked into your parents’ house that night with his understated charm and a devastating ensemble of a maroon suit, white shirt with the top few buttons undone, and black loafers, looking every bit the GQ model he was once upon a time. With two bouquets of red roses and a bottle of champagne in hand, he knocked on the glass and your dad met him enthusiastically at the door.

“What’s the occasion?” your dad then chuckled, a bit puzzled. Auston glanced to where you stood near the staircase, waiting to greet him, and smiled.

“These are for your daughter,” Auston said as he grasped one bouquet. “And these are for your wife,” he said as he gestured toward the other. Your dad raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of you pensively, and let out a loud laugh. “Well, how thoughtful! And the champagne?” your dad asked as Auston stepped toward you and tucked one bunch of roses into your hold. He kissed your cheek chastely and turned back to your dad.

“Well, you never know when you’re gonna have something to celebrate,” Auston said with a smirk. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and your dad clapped Auston’s back appreciatively before leaving the two of you to your moment.

“Thank you, for the flowers,” you said softly, staring up at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a nod before your aunt and uncle suddenly appeared in the doorway, loudly greeting you and pushing their way toward you for hugs as Auston gave them their space and waited for you to become available again.

His patience lasted all of five minutes as he made vague pleasantries with the handful of guests who had already arrived, before he was approaching you again, eager to do what he really came here to do and unable to wait a moment longer. As you turned away from a brief conversation with a longtime next-door neighbor, Auston gently grasped your wrist as he said hastily, “Can I see you outside for a second?”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he led you hurriedly through the formal living room and out the French doors to the balcony, closing them behind you and backing you into a corner, hidden from view.

“Aus, what are you—“

He pressed his body into yours, nudging you back against the rail as he took your face in his hands and kissed you hungrily.

“Doing,” you whispered when he let up, completing your earlier thought as you pressed your fingertips against your swollen lips and looked up at him, your cheeks reddening.

“That,” he answered simply with a small smile. “And I wanted to give you something...”

He patted his pockets to determine where the object was, and your eyes widened.

“Auston, no!” you exclaimed, squeezing his elbows in an attempt to stop his search. “You can’t. I didn’t get you anything. I —”

“Kelsey, are you crazy? Yes, you did,” he said firmly. “Time with you. You gave me time with you. That’s all I’ve wanted for the last three years. That’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

There was nothing you could say then, nothing that sounded worthy enough to hold any significance in such an already meaningful vignette of the two of you. Auston took your silence as his opportunity to pull a mid-sized, square, red leather box from the pocket of his suit jacket, the name “Cartier” imprinted in gold script on the lid.

“Auston, stop,” you warned in a whisper, knowing what was inside and knowing that you would be rendered completely incapable of walking away from him once he offered this gift to you, knowing what it signified for both of you. He shook his head, knowing that your request was an empty one. He propped open the box and placed it on the small wrought iron table in front of you on the balcony. You couldn’t peel your eyes from it as your mind raced with questions.

“How... where... we slept until noon, Aus,” you stuttered. “All the stores were closed. Where did you even buy this?”

He pursed his lips and nodded once, then put his hands into his pockets and admitted, “I’ve had it for almost three years, Kels.”

You blinked again and again, not processing what he’d just revealed.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“I bought this for you for Valentine’s Day three years ago,” he continued. “I bought it and I hid it in my closet and I was gonna give it to you but we broke up on —“

“January 30th...” you whispered. Auston’s brows knit together in agony, and his throat constricted.

“You remember too,” he stated quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember a little too well,” you said, sniffling as you glanced down at the box again.

Suddenly, your mind drifted back not to that fateful day in his apartment in Toronto, but instead to lying on your stomach as a kid in your family room, flipping through the pages of your favorite issue of your mom’s old Vogue magazines, as Auston used a yardstick and a Nerf ball as makeshift hockey equipment, taking shots at your couch again and again while you soaked in the photos of beautiful models, trendy clothing, and expensive jewelry, as visions of working at a fashion magazine someday twirled through your daydreams.

“Whatcha readin’?” a ten-year-old Auston inquired as he dropped next to you to take a break from his game.

“Vogue,” you answered, turning another page. “Like usual.”

Auston nodded, spotting a pretty woman in a tight black dress and commented, “Cool,” with a laugh. “If you could have anything in that book, what would you pick?”

Ever the master of sass, you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a magazine, Aus,” you corrected with venom in your voice as Auston rolled his own eyes. “But, if I had to pick... I know just what I want,” you informed him, leafing through the issue to get back to an ad in the front. When you finally found what you were seeking, you plopped the magazine down again, smacking your hand onto its glossy pages.

“That,” you said, pointing to the gold bangle. “It’s called the Love Bracelet. It says that it gets bought by somebody you love and then they have to use a screwdriver to put it on you.”

“A screwdriver?!” Auston asked incredulously. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

You giggled. “No, silly,” you drawled. “It doesn’t hurt. But then the person who loves you is the only one who can put it on you or take it off you. You can’t do it by yourself.”

Auston nodded. “Cool,” he repeated, more seriously this time. You sighed wistfully as you gazed down at the bracelet.

“Yeah, but it’s a whole bunch of money, and my dad said he isn’t buying it. He said maybe my husband will get me one someday,” you said sadly. Auston watched your face drop, then, he got an idea.

“How about this,” he offered, nudging you with his elbow. “If I get famous for playing baseball, or hockey I guess, and I make a boatload of money, then I’ll buy you that bracelet. ‘Kay?”

You blushed, hunching your shoulders as you were slightly embarrassed by your best friend’s offer. Still, you loved Auston, and you knew he loved you. He was the only person you wanted to get that bracelet from, except for like, your mom or dad.

“Okay,” you agreed. “You promise?”

Auston dragged his index finger over the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart,” he confirmed.

This time, it was your turn to say, “Cool.”

“I asked my mom to hold onto it,” you heard him telling you now. Now that you’d become the people you’d said you’d be. Now that you both had grown into the farfetched dreams you’d shared as children. Now that you’d come back home — back to one another. Now that he was here, in front of you, again. “I just couldn’t bear to take it back, even though I honestly never thought I’d get the chance to give it to you.”

You were shaking your head endlessly, attempting to stop tears from streaking your face. “I can’t believe this...” you said, awestruck.

“I don’t have to put this on you right now,” Auston said, swallowing his own tears he felt creeping up on him. “I just want you to have it. It’s yours. You should keep it.”

With a few swipes at your undereyes, you rubbed away the wetness on your hands and then extended your left wrist to Auston. A smile flashed briefly across his lips before he set them in a straight line once more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, caution in his voice.

You pulled him in by his waist, beaming, before you answered.

“I’ve played this out basically every night since I left,” you told him. “Even when I was with somebody. I just followed the path my mind was taking me all the way to the very end, until there was no place left to go. And it always leads to you. It always leads me home.”

Auston pulled you into a searing kiss, both of you smiling into it, before he squeezed your hand and reached for the box, carefully disassembling the bracelet so that he could put it on you at last.

“All day I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier. About running,” you spoke as Auston worked on securing the bracelet. “I started running and running and it’s been such a mess since then. Nothing about the past three years made any sense to me. And then I saw you, and… it all made sense again. You and I were the only thing that ever made sense to me,” you told him, your voice wavering as he twisted the final screw into place, lifting the inside of your wrist to his lips and placing a warm, reverent kiss to the skin there, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. “So I’m done. I’m done running, Auston. I can’t run anymore.”

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Auston admitted, touching his forehead to yours before leaning back. “So, to your earlier point... what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

You ran a frazzled hand through your long hair and bit at the inside of your cheek as you formulated your response. “I mean, I have to go back, Aus. I’m working on a really big project...”

Your words put him into a tailspin of his own this time, watching the dreams he had let resurface over the last two days come crashing down in front of him all over again. You were eluding him. Again.

His ears were buzzing so loudly that he barely heard your next words.

“But maybe after that... I could come and spend some time in Toronto?”

Auston pulled his tongue away from the roof of his dry mouth and pleaded, in a voice barely above a whisper, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t say that unless you really mean it,” he said, desperation in his tone.

“I mean, really, I don’t have a choice,” you pointed out with a breathy laugh, your fingers tracing the cold metal of the bangle around your other wrist. “I don’t see any other way that this ends. Not after this. This perfect fucking weekend. I mean... do you?”

“No,” he quickly retorted. “No, I don’t. I was just scared that you... that this was going to be it for you. That we would have this incredible time together and then it would just be another chapter in the Auston and Kelsey history book.”

You smoothed your hands over his lapels, allowing your body to fully relax into his.

“Auston, this... this is different,” you said somberly. “Before, it all just felt like too much. I got scared. We were so young, Aus. I mean, we’re still young, but we were babies. And now... I’ve realized that dealing with the press and the social media and the fans... it’s worth it to me. I’ll never like it. But I love you. And that’s enough. That will always be more than enough for me — being with you. And I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long, that it took me finally coming back home, to realize that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Kels, please,” Auston whispered, one hand clutching at your hip, the other tangled in the hair at the back of your head as he held onto you with everything he had, knowing he was ready to do so for as long as you would let him. “Just... just say it again, baby. Please?”

“I love you, Aus,” you whispered, tears falling freely down your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m never gonna stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Auston pleaded, nuzzling his nose against yours before pressing his lips to your mouth. “Don’t ever stop. Promise?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Cross my heart,” you whispered, drawing a pretend line across your chest before cupping his cheek and kissing him tenderly.

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heyitsjay03 · 3 years

Text

Aeipathy: Chapter One

Disclaimer: i don’t (unfortunately) own Marvel or any of their characters, plot points, etc. so all right are to them and their our overlord Disney

AN: i had so much fun with this and i CANNOT wait for this next chapter hehehe

Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Location: Classified Year: 2012

“Do you mind explaining why we’re here?”

“I’ve got something for ya.”

“...what is it?”

“Oh relax, Cap, think of it as a… housewarming present… What? Was… was that too soon?”

“I’m pretty sure fifteen minutes is too soon, Tony.”

“There’s no need for hyperboles, Cap- you’ve been defrosted for a year now.”

“Tony…”

“Fine. My humblest apologies, Your Righteousness.”

“...what even is it? And why are we in this basement?”

“It’s not a baseme- did you even see the amount of security we had to go through to get here?”

“Yeah- which is why I’m asking. Why are we in a basement after all the security we had to go through?”

“I thought you might want to see…”

“See what?”

“...her.”

“...__________?”

Location: Brooklyn, New York Year: 1943

Those two yucks are gonna make me be late again. My eyes dart from the pan of cracking bacon to the busted-up clock on the stained wall. Seven minutes ‘till eight- and the clinic’s ten minutes away. Hopefully, if I can just slip in the back door, I’ll be okay… but even then, I’ll be risking it. No doubt that fathead Warren Lynne will chew me out but-

“Mornin’, doll!”

Much too cheerful. Much too late. My head snaps to look over my shoulder, eyes narrowing as I watch Bucky and Steve stroll into my kitchen.

Bucky smiles and plops down into a chair with a piece of toast in his mouth. “You look stunning. As usual.”

Steve shoves Bucky’s arm and sits down next to him. “Cut that out…” he mutters, fumbling with the black piece of fabric slung around his thin neck. Steve manages to tie his tie into a tangled knot. He huffs and undoes it- only to redo it in the same knot.

“You two are gonna make me late,” I mutter, taking the pan off the stove and scraping its contents onto their plates. “I can’t believe you- I’ve already gotten so many warnings, why- just why- can’t you two take care’a yourselves for a few goddamn-”

“Language.”

My eyes flick to Steve, shoulders and back taut as I stare daggers at him. He immediately pales and goes quiet, fiddling with his tie. Sighing, I toss the pan back onto the stove with a loud clang. The two boys jump in their seats as I run a hand through my hair.

“Just once, boys, please,” I mumble, tugging my hair up into a tight bun. “All I want is for you two to help out ‘round here. I don’t want to sacrifice my career, you know that-”

Bucky, chewing a large bite of toast and eggs, waves his hand and shakes his head. His voice is slightly muffled by his food. “Doll, what in God’s name are ya talkin’ about?”

I scoff. “Are you kidding? Ever since I moved here-”

Bucky waves a bitten piece of toast at me, “Doll, I know. I’m just sayin’-”

“No, Buck!” I snap, snatching my bag. “I’m tired of it! I keep draggin’ Steve out’a clinics tryin’ to enlist, I keep turnin’ your girlfriends out ‘nd away, I keep the house clean, I work at the clinic, I put myself through nursing school-”

“__________,” Steve says softly, “I think what Buck’s tryna say is that it’s Saturday.”

…

“...is it?”

Bucky nods- his eyes wide as he stares at me in fear. Slowly, he lifts his fork to his mouth and eats his eggs. His eyes never leave me, like he’s scared of me charging at him with a kitchen knife.

“You went to work yesterday,” Steve continues, “Don’t you remember?”

...I do. I had gone in early- before even the sun woke up. Doctor Nachtnebel was already there, working on something in his office. That serum for the military, I’m sure, with the way his folders were all stuffed full of papers of our handwriting.

“...I’m sorry,” I mutter, throwing myself into the last chair at my small dining table. My head collapses into my palms as I stare down at the table. “I dunno what came over me...”

“Hey,” Steve mumbles, poking my arm.

I move my head to look at the two of them. “If you wanted help, all ya had t’do was ask, Doll,” Bucky teases, a smile creeping onto his face. “You take a break. Stevie ‘nd I’ll clean up ‘nd make ya somethin’ for breakfast- how’s that sound, Doll?”

I sigh, letting my eyes run over my two boys. Steve’s tie is tangled horribly- a mess of fabric under his scrawny neck. Bucky’s hair is a mess, all rubbed back and forth and tossed around on his head like an animal had lived in it. The two of them haven’t shaved and Bucky’s shirt is on backwards.

I don’t trust them with my breakfast at all.

“Buck, she’s thinkin’ too hard,” Steve quips, “Get her back upstairs before she says no.”

I groan, “Steve, c’mon, please- I’ll be fine, don’t-”

“Sorry, Doll,” Bucky chirps, “Stevie’s right. We’ve got this handled- you go…” He trails off for a second before snapping his fingers. “Go get ready. I’m takin’ you two out. My treat.”

“Buck, I don’t have anything to wear-”

“Just go get ready, Doll,” Bucky hums, locking eyes with me as a smirk crosses his lips. “Trust me?”

I roll my eyes, “...why should I?”

“Because you owe me,” he teases as he gets up from his chair.

“It’s been thirteen years- you’re still using that excuse?”

“I’ll be usin’ it ‘till I die.”

“That could be arranged,” I mutter quietly. Bucky shoots me a glance and rolls his eyes as he throws a towel over his shoulder. He sighs as he picks up the sponge sitting at the sink. Humming to himself, he scrubs the dishes- swaying from side to side in his spot. Steve finishes his food and puts his dish in the sink before pulling out ingredients from the fridge.

My eyes naturally trail back to Bucky. He’s whistling now- some tune off the radio. He’s fixed his shirt- now loosely tucked into his slacks with the top few buttons undone. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows. Steve shoves him to wash off the various berries he picked out from my fridge. Bucky shoves him back and the two start bickering back and forth. They continue before Bucky sighs and ruffles Steve’s hair. “Do your thing, Stevie- I’ll finish when you’re done.”

Steve touches his now-damp hair and glares at Bucky for a moment. Turning back to the dishes, I can hear him muttering promises to get him back. Bucky smirks at me as he tugs the towel off his shoulder and wipes his hands. “Ya like what ya see, Doll?” he teases, “Could be a permanent view if ya let me take ya on that date.”

I scoff and get to my feet. “Fine, I’m going, Buck,” I mutter as I stalk towards my bedroom. “If ya wanted me gone, all ya had t’do was ask.”

“Just the opposite, Doll!” He calls as I shut the door. I sigh and slump my head against the door. Bucky’s voice carries through my door. “I want ya around ‘till I’m cold in my grave!”

“Will you quit it?” Steve laughs, shaking his head. “I’m standin’ right here.”

“I’ll quit when I’m dead, Stevie!”

What a moron.

“Buck, please,” I mutter, tugging my shawl over my shoulders. “It’s freezing, where are we-”

“Just a second, Doll,” Bucky says with a smile before waving a hand over his head. “I’m over here, Rosie!”

He catches the attention of a blonde girl wearing a bright red dress.

Another girlfriend. Fantastic.

Steve’s eyes widen as he watches the girl get closer. As Bucky walks up to greet her, I start to inch backwards. They wrap their arms around each other while chattering excitedly. Another step back, a tug on the shawl over my shoulders.

Maybe I shouldn’t be here. The last one of Buck’s girls didn’t appreciate me being as close to him as I am.

Steve’s arm shoots out and grabs mine. “Stay,” he says quietly. “You can be my date.”

His eyes glisten with sympathy as his chest puffs out. Holding out his elbow, he smiles. I return the smile warmly and nod to myself. I can have just as much fun with Steve as with Bucky. “Why, I’d be delighted, Stevie.”

Bucky turns around with a bright smile. “Kids- I’d like ya t’meet Rosie. Stevie’s date for tonight.”

Rosie smiles at me. “You must be __________!” She hums, taking my hand and giving it a quick shake.

...Steve’s date?

I thought Bucky and her were...

If they’re supposed to be together tonight, then-

Steve nudges me as I stand with my mouth dangling open. A cough leaves my lips and I jump back into my skin. “It’s nice to meet you,” I say with a pleasant lilt to my voice. “This is Steve!” I add quickly, grabbing Steve and tugging him in front of me. “Real sweetheart, ya know? Hard t’find a guy as sweet as him.”

Rosie’s smile falters for only a moment before it’s back to bright and brilliant. She happily greets Steve- who is equally as happy. Blush rises in his cheeks as he glances over Rosie’s shoulder at me. My eyes widen with my smile before his attention is taken back to Rosie.

“Well, looks like the kids are gettin’ along.” Bucky whispers in my ear. I can feel him standing behind me as I watch Steve stumble over his words and Rosie’s giggling.

“I’m glad,” I whisper back, “Stevie deserves someone special.”

“So do you, Doll.”

I scoff and roll my eyes. “And I suppose you’re gonna offer to be that someone?”

“If you’d let me,” Bucky says, tilting his head back and rocking on his heels. He is… so unbelievably smackable it’s silly. That stupid smirk. Those dumb lips. That look in his eyes. “Just for tonight?” Bucky adds, offering his elbow.

I look at it and then back up at him. What game is he playing?

Is he even playing a game?

Why would he play with me? To humiliate me? That’s not Buck. Not my- our- Bucky.

Slowly, I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow. “Just for tonight.”

The movie had long since started but I’d lost the plot long ago. Steve and Rosie are in front of us- Bucky claiming he ‘wanted to make sure the kids didn’t do anything stupid’. A bucket of popcorn is at our feet with the top of the container grazing the hem of my navy blue skirt.

None of that bothers me as much as Bucky though. He sits beside me with his arm draped across the back of my seat. He leans in every once in a while to ask if he could grab the popcorn container or offer his jacket- which hangs over my body. Every exchange is so… sensual.

The way his hand lightly slides against my leg as he grabs the container.

The way his lips graze my ear as he asks if I’m enjoying myself.

The way his touch lingered for a moment as he placed his jacket over my shoulders.

I’m reading too much into this. Always overthinking.

As I place a piece of popcorn on my tongue, I try to watch the movie. The black and white images flicker back and forth- some tale of lovers, I think. A trio of friends- ironic, I think to myself- with two of them falling so desperately in love with each other but refusing to say anything.

My gaze tugs to the side as I feel someone watching me.

Buck smiles, pink dusting his cheeks, as our eyes meet. I bite down into my popcorn and laugh quietly. “It’s… it’s really good,” I tell him for the thirty-third time tonight, gesturing to the popcorn.

Bucky nods, “Only the best for you, Doll.”

My eyes turn down to the container before flicking back up to him. I try to look back to the movie but my eyes stay fixated on Bucky- who keeps looking at me. Blush rushes into my cheeks as we just keep staring at each other. Swallowing, I keep my eyes from trailing down to his lips.

“Thank you.” he says quietly.

“For what Buck?” I giggle nervously, “You’re the one that-”

“For giving me a chance.”

My eyes dart back down to my skirt as another anxious laugh leaves my lips. “You’re… you’re bein’ silly, Buck.”

“Sorry Doll,” he says gently, his fingers coming up under my chin and lifting until I’m looking back at him. “I’m just… crazy about you.”

We start to lean in and I can feel his lips graze mine-

“__________!”

There’s loud knocking at my door.

“__________, ya alright?”

It’s Steve.

“Y-yeah!” I call, throwing the blanket off of me and getting to my feet. When did I even fall asleep? I was just getting ready- wasn’t I? “Sorry! I… I must’a fallen asleep. What time is it?”

“...you’ve got an hour ‘till we leave,” Steve answers, “Ya slept for a while. You okay?”

Define ‘okay’.

“I’m fine,” I mutter, running a hand down my face. “Just tired, that’s all.”

“Well you’ve been working a lot recently,” Steve says from the other side of the door. “You must’a needed the sleep.”

“...yeah.”

Didn’t need that dream, though.

“I’ll… I’ll be right out!”

I listen as Steve shuffles down the hall- only to yell at Bucky for something. Bucky defends himself but I don’t pay it any mind. A shirt thrown over the back of one of my couches, feet up on the table; it’s always something. Steve’s always on Bucky’s head about something when they’re staying with me. Something about ‘manners’ usually.

I laugh to myself as I watch myself combing my hair in the mirror. They’ve always been like that. From the first day I met the two punks in that damned alleywall. Always bickering between the two of them. Steve pulling Bucky away from flirting with the cute vendor at the Dodger game, Bucky dragging Steve away from gawking at the Great War exhibit. And then the two of them banding together to pull me away from… everything I manage to get myself into.

Sighing, I place my brush down at the base of my mirror. I look back up at my reflection and smile. I’m beautiful. Gorgeous, even. Cocky, too, but… It doesn’t matter how I style my hair or what clothes I wear. I am beautiful. An insecurity here and there, sure- but that doesn’t take away from my beauty. It makes me unique. Not a paper doll that’s so ‘cookie-cutter’.

“Doll!” Bucky calls from outside, “Telephone!”

I take one last glance at my reflection. Yep. Still beautiful. Darting out the door, I take the phone and receiver from Bucky. “Hello?”

“__________!” Lily yells from the other side of the phone, “I’ve been callin’ you, where’ve ya been?!”

Odessa Lily Mae Ababio and I had met when we both stumbled into a women’s rights meeting when we were teenagers. As time went on, less and less women started showing up but Lily and I- along with a few others- stayed and took charge. We became an unyielding force for women, a family. Lily and I have worked in tandem as leaders of the group for three years. We call nearly every night to discuss plans and changes and updates- but any call before eight is almost guaranteed to be an emergency.

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. “I’m… I’m sorry, Lils, it’s been a helluva day. What’s happening?”

Lily sighs. “They kicked us out of the factory again- some rejected soldiers, it sounds like.”

“You’re kidding,” I mutter, eyebrows furrowing as I sit back up in my seat. “They can’t do that, can they?”

“...the factory’s siding with them,” Lily sighs again. It’s broken, more ragged. I can hear the tears clotting her throat. We had worked so hard to even get the girls into the factory- many of them trying to fend for themselves while their families were sent to the war and the remaining members depending on them. And now they’re just going to throw them back out?

And for what?! There’s plenty of work to be done at the factory- why throw them out?

“...is Mister Richardson there?” I ask, gripping the phone line. “Is he in his office?”

“Hold on,” Lily mumbles. I can hear her press the phone against her chest and her yelling for someone to peek into his window. A few moments later, she comes back. “Yeah, he’s here.”

“I’ll be right down. Make sure he doesn’t leave.”

“Will do, __________.”

Click.

I look up at the boys as I throw the phone back onto the receiver. “There’s some problems with the girls at the factory,” I mutter, snatching the nearest pair of shoes and tugging them on. “I have t’go.”

“We’re comin’, too,” they say in unison.

“You don’t have to. I’ll be back in time for tonigh-”

“That’s not why we’re comin’ with,” Steve chuckles, slipping into his shoes.

“We’re comin’ with because it’s the right thing t’do,” Bucky finishes, slinging his legs off the side of the chair. “Now, c’mon, Doll. I’m drivin’.”

Inside, the whir of machinery clanks and buzzes throughout the street. Smoke billows out from the chimneys and mixes with the pure white clouds above. There’s a large crowd amassed in front of the factory. Split into two groups, a group stands at the entrance facing out and a group stands a bit away facing in. The men stand at the entrance of the factory, chests puffed out and arms crossed. A few wear expressions of indifference. Others wear a cruel smile. I can tell by the colorful, oil-stained bandanas around their heads that it’s mostly women in the crowd.

It’s all women in the crowd looking in.

As Bucky parks across the street, I jump out before he stops. Lily turns to face me and parts from the crowd. I reach out and grab her calloused, russet-colored hand as we meet. “How’s it goin’?” I ask quietly, scanning the faces of the men standing guard at the factory entrance.

Her eyes scan the crowd of women whispering amongst themselves. “It’s not bad,” she whispers.

As she says this, one of the men scoffs and spits just at the front row of women’s feet. “Go back to your kitchens, now- the men’re back.”

“...but it’s getting worse.” Lily finishes. Her hand squeezes mine as we weave through the crowd to get to the barricade of men. “Just… be careful... Okay? These ones… they’ve got a bite to them.”

“I’ll be fine,” I whisper back. “I’ll take care of this.”

We push through to the clearing between the two groups. The men’s eyes collectively gather on the two of us. Their faces and eyes harden as a dismissive air fills the gap between us. I purse my lips and sigh, walking straight for the door.

An arm shoots out and grabs mine, pulling me back in front of the factory. “No can do, miss,” the man huffs, “You’re all dismissed. Jobs ‘ve been filled. Richardson’s orders.”

“If Richardson has given those orders, I’d like to hear them for myself,” I say firmly, shrugging his hand off of me. “So, if you’ll excuse me, sir.”

The hand shoots out and grabs my arm again. “What part of ‘you’re dismissed’ did you not understand?”

I stare up at the man and study his features for a moment. Scar above his left eye- which are green- and black hair that grazes his ears. A cigarette dangles from his chapped lips and freckles dot his face. I smile and clear my throat. “I understood perfectly. I just chose not to acknowledge it so that I can go talk to Mister Richardson.”

The man scoffs. “Ya get one job ‘nd think you can talk to a man like that- this is why you women should stay at home. Get a job ‘nd ya start gettin’ all uppity ‘nd smartmouthed ‘cause your head’s been filled with so many ideas.”

“On the contrary, sir,” I hum with a sickly-sweet smile. “I’d say staying at home has made me much more smartmouthed. Gave me a lot of time to think... Working clears me up. Lets me focus on what’s important. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I’m talking to Mister Richardson.”

“Listen, lady,” the man says, taking a drag from his cigarette. “If you don’t get outta here with all your other broads, I’m gonna have t’use force.”

My smile broadens. “Force?” I coo, “Oh dear. Well… force won’t be necessary.”

He chuckles, “That’s what I thought-”

As he reaches up to grab his cigarette, I snatch his wrist and twist his arm around his back. Planting my elbow into the center of his back, he’s brought to his knees without much ‘force’.

“Now, sir,” I huff, “I’m going to talk with Mister Richardson and I’m going t’hand you off to a dear friend of mine. ‘nd you’re gonna be polite, you got that?”

“Let me-!”

I cut off his struggling with another twist of his wrist. “C’mon, now. Don’t get so many ideas of escaping. It’s pretty hard to in this position.”

Bucky and Steve join me in the clearing. Bucky slowly glares at each one of the men while Steve tries to look as intimidating as possible. I smile as they get closer. “Looks like ya didn’t need us much, did you?” Bucky comments, looking down at the man as he squirms in my hold.

“Can you hold him while Lily ‘nd I go in to talk to Richardson?”

“Sure thing,” Bucky mumbles, grabbing the man just below my hand. “Call out if ya need us.”

“Thank you,” I smile. Lily tugs my arm and the two of us pass between the other men. They avoid our gazes as we pass, backs taut and shoulders too tense.

Scared of a couple of women. A nurse and a factory worker.

As they should be.

We round the corner and head up the stairs overlooking the machinery. The door to Richardson’s office is shut but the familiar clacking of his typewriter and the glow of a lamp streams out into the stairway. “Ya ready for this, Lils?” I ask.

“Let’s do this.”

The two of us push the door open. Mister Richardson, a heavy-set man with eternally-pink cheeks, sits at his wood desk surrounded by files and papers and his typewriter. His light eyes slide over to us over his glasses before widening.

“Miss Bishop!” He chuckles nervously, pushing away from his desk. Sweat lines the collar and underarms of his expensive-looking suit.

He’s been expecting my arrival.

“I didn’t realise you’d be here today- and with Miss Aye-bee-bee-yo!”

“Ababio,” we correct at the same time.

“Oh- of course!” He says with a grand outstretching of his arms. “My mistake! Well… ladies… what can I do for you?”

“I think you know exactly what you can do for us,” I hum sweetly.

“Now, Miss Bishop, let’s not be rash-”

“Rash?” I ask, placing a hand on my chest in feigned offense. “Now, that doesn’t sound like me, does it, Lily?”

Lily shakes her head. “Not at all, __________.”

“No, sir. We just came… to talk.” I coo, sitting down on his desk. Sighing, I look around the room and tap my nail against the wood of his desk. “It’s a beautiful office you have here, Mister Richardson.”

“T- thank you, Miss… Miss Bishop.”

“Unfortunately, there are others that don’t have the same luxuries,” I sigh again. “Those women out there included.”

“It’s truly unfortunate-”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it? ...however, Madame Fortune did smile on them when they were… so graciously given work at this factory. Families were fed, houses were kept, food was bought, children cared for… Isn’t that right, Lily?”

“Twenty-five families. Forty kids.”

I whistle, raising my eyebrows as I get to my feet. Slowly, I stalk the decorated walls of his office. My fingernail trails down various gaudy declarations of wealth and prestige. “That’s quite a few people,” I hum, “None of them are quite happy with this… change in employment, I’m sure.”

“Miss Bishop-”

“I could only imagine how many pissed-off family members are on their way right now- not to mention how many children are wondering just where their next meal is coming from.”

“Miss Bishop, please-”

“What is it, Mister Richardson?” I ask, peeking out of his window to look down at the crowd out front.

“These soldiers-”

“Rejected soldiers, yes. Go on.”

“They’re… they demand their jobs back and-”

“Mmhm,” I hum, “But if I remember correctly, you’re understaffed.”

“Well, yes, but the men. They… they’d rather not… they’d rather not work with…”

“With what, Mister Richardson? Spit it out.”

“With… women.”

My head falls back with laughter. As my laughter dies down, I wipe a tear off my face. “A- apologies,” I mumble, “I just… I… I think that’s absolutely hilarious. They come in here and demand- sorry... beg- for their jobs back and tell you they won’t work with women? Are you… not the boss, Mister Richardson?”

“Well, no-”

“So you call the shots, yes? And you set the conditions under which your employees work?”

“Yes, but-”

“So you’re understaffed with all those women working out there so why not... add the men back to their original positions? Lily can retrain the women working those positions since I understand that men can’t be nearly as… versatile as we can.”

“Well, the men-”

“Ah yes,” I mumble, tapping my finger on my chin. “I forgot. A bunch of rejected soldiers refuse to work amongst women. They must not need the work then. Mister Richardson, wasn’t it you who said… oh, what was it… Lily?”

“‘A man starved cannot turn his nose up at bread’.”

“Thank you, darling,” I smile, winking at her. Turning back to Richardson, my face turns to stone. “Was that not you?”

“...it was.”

“Are you not a man of your word? Oh dear…”

Richardson goes quiet.

Lily opens her mouth to speak but I wave her off- watching as Richardson’s face twitches in thought. The handkerchief held tightly in his hand is damp and his knuckles white. Sweat drips down his face, even in the coolness of the day.

Scared of a nurse and a factory worker.

As he should be.

“...tell the girls their break is over,” Richardson says quietly. “And bring the men up here. I… I have some changes to our agreement I’d like to discuss.”

Lamplight flickers overhead as our steps echo down the lonely street. Puddles have formed in scattered sections of the road and sidewalk. The smell of rain is ever-present. Steve is up in front of us, walking alongside the date Bucky had arranged for him. She’s sweet- a little ditzy and blunt but… she didn’t look at Steve any different than she did Bucky or I so…

I just want him to be happy.

“You’re thinkin’ too hard again,” Bucky mumbles, nudging me with his elbow as we walk down the street. “What’s plaguin’ ya this time?”

“Nothin’, Buck,” I laugh, rolling my eyes.

“Ya might cut me with that lie, Doll,” he teases, “C’mon… you can tell me what’s on that pretty mind’a yours.”

“...nothing, Buck.”

“Is it the committee? The Women’s Committee?”

“No.”

“What about the girls at the factory?-”

“They’ll be okay,” I say quietly, watching as Steve turns bright red after his date compliments his suit. “They can handle themselves pretty well- especially with Lily there.”

“Okay, then,” Bucky mumbles, “What is it?”

“Why do ya wanna know so bad?” I ask with a small laugh, eyes sliding over to him.

Bucky smirks, laughs, and shakes his head. His eyes turn down to the sidewalk before another huffing laugh passes his lips. “‘Cause I worry ‘bout you, Doll.”

“You always worry about me,” I tease, nudging him with my elbow. “Ever since you two found me in that alleyway… fending for my life against those assholes... always worryin’ about me.”

“Can’t help it,” he says quietly, “I love you, Doll.”

“I love you, too, Buck,” I whisper back. I can still feel his eyes on my back before I turn to face him. “But you can stop worrying… I’m twenty-five years old and you’ve been worryin’ since I was eight- you can take a break now.”

Bucky stops. I stop and turn to face him again, eyebrows furrowing as I look at him. He’s just… staring. Unwavering. Just staring right through me. A small shiver runs down my spine- not fear, just… anxiety. Like the kind when someone’s going through your stuff and you don’t want them to find something. But… what do I not want him to find…?

Finally, Bucky smiles crookedly- all cocky and broken at the same time- before clicking his heels together and shaking his head with laughter. “You’re so smart… why… why can’t you figure this out? It’s… all laid out for ya. Just… figure it out already...”

“What’s that supposed t’mean?” I snap, eyebrow shooting into an arch. “I’ve figured it out already, Buck-”

“That’s not what I mean,” he mumbles, stepping forward and pressing his lips to my forehead. Bucky lingers there for a moment- does he? I could be imagining things- before he pulls away with a sigh. “You don’t get what I mean.”

...what is he talking about?

“Bucky!” I yell, running after him as he catches up with Steve. “Bucky, c’mon, tell me what you mean!”

“There’s no fun in that!” He yells back, “You’ve gotta learn for yourself!”

“Miss Bishop!”

My ears perk up and I dart around the corner of the nurses’ station to the Doctor’s office. Doctor Nachtnebel looks up at me over his glasses as I hurry in. “Yes, Doctor?” I hum, smoothing my hands down my skirt.

“Close the door,” he rasps with a slight German accent. “Drafty.”

I do as he says as he gets up, adjusting his glasses as he looks down at the papers in his weathered hands. The folders have streaks of jet-black ink crossing out the more ‘delicate’ information restricted from the wandering eyes of nurses. But if you’re lucky, you can snatch a glance every now and then as the Doctor crosses the lines out.

“Miss Bishop,” the doctor says quietly, pacing slowly towards me. “...may I be frank?”

“...of course, sir,” I mumble, eyebrows furrowing as he stops in front of me. His light eyes- one blue and one grey- scan my face as a hand comes to massage his drooping jaw. Slowly, he inhales raggedly. “...is… is something wrong, sir?” I ask as I take a step forward.

“That remains… to be seen,” he mutters, turning away and placing his hand on his desk. “Miss Bishop, do you recall the project I asked your assistance on?”

I do. He had called me into his office late one night, told me to shut the door and sat me down to discuss a project he had been recruited to assist in. Some serum- the details were few and hazy. The government wanted it created, produced, tested, and perfected. Human testing is scheduled to start next week, should the higher-ups approve the tests done on various animals.

I nod with a small smile. “Did they approve human testing?”

Doctor Nachtnebel scoffs and shakes his head. He rubs a hand down his face then back up and into his hair. “No… No, Miss Bishop, they did not.”

My shoulders slump a bit. I was there for a solid part of the project. Not the testing, unfortunately, but the formula design and tweaking of chemicals and such- I was there. This had become something I grew proud of. “...oh,” I whisper, eyes settling on the floor. “I’m… I’m sorry, Doctor.”

“...so am I,” he mumbles. “Miss Bishop, you… you gave me permission to be frank,” he says, turning back to face me. He looks down his glasses at me- eyes blinking slowly. “Do you still permit me?”

I nod.

“Oh good,” Doctor Nachtnebel hums with a small smile. “Miss Bishop…” he sighs, shaking his head as he looks back down at his hands. My eyes follow his and land on a single syringe filled with a thick blue liquid.

“Miss Bishop,” he says again quietly, “I am sorry.”

“Sorry for-”

He cuts me off, lunging and grabbing me by the face. Wrapping his arm around my mouth, he tugs me to him. I scream- something muffled by the hand held tight against my face. Something pricks my neck as my eyes wildly flick towards the pain. The syringe slowly begins injecting liquid into me. Like blue fire, it singes under my skin and writhes through my veins.

I let out another scream as I thrash in his hold. He’s strong- much stronger than he looks. Fingers dig into my waist and back, holding me almost completely still as I try to get away. Pain slips into every inch of my body and lights every section on fire.

“I am sorry, Miss Bishop,” the doctor mutters through gritted teeth. “I did like you… I just… have other allegiances.”

The doctor leans into my ear as another scream tears out of my lungs. “...hail HYDRA, Miss Bishop.”

Cold.

Cold and hot and empty and full.

My eyes glide around the room. Empty. Left to die.

Freezing. Shivering, biting cold.

I’m alone. The clinic closed until tomorrow.

Doctor. Doctor- that traitor.

My limbs are not my own. Weighed down with fatigue, I can barely move my neck.

Sweat beads down every inch of me and drips onto the tile floor. My clothes stick to my skin and my body burns with heat. I can see faint traces of it on the tile.

Help. I need help.

My mouth is dry- too dry to even crack open.

Slowly, I push my hands under my chest.

Up. Get up.

Up.

Get. Up.

I’m on my knees now. Sweat is slicking down my arms.

Pants leave my lips as I stare lazily at the doorknob.

Steve. Bucky.

My hand reaches out and slips off the knob. My body falls forward and I collide with the tile once again.

I’m going to die here.

Something creaks outside. The doctor. He’s back. Here to check on the serum’s progress.

It’s still a test for him.

“Doll?”

Bucky.

Energy surges through me as I hear his steps hesitantly get closer.

“Doll, you here?”

“B-” I stop, straining as I try to get to my knees again. “Bucky.” His name leaves my lips like a crackling groan. Barely noticeable.

“...Dollface, c’mon, this ain’t funny. Come home... It’s late.”

“Buck,” I groan again, clutching my sides as they start to clench and pulse. “Bucky!” I yell, my voice snapping like wood in a fire.

His footsteps come running towards the door. As the door swings open, my body devours the cool air blown in. It sends chills down every inch of me but I know how bad my fever is.

“Clothes,” I whimper, fisting the drenched fabric in my hands. “Clothes.”

“Doll, what… what happened?!” Bucky yells, dropping down to my side. His hand cups under my neck. “...you’re burnin’ up.”

“Clothes,” I whisper, my hands now shaking. “Please.”

Bucky scans my eyes and then nods frantically, gripping my shirt and tugging it over my head gently. My body seizes with tremors as the air hits me. Bucky immediately reaches back for the shirt- only for my hand to reach out and grab his wrist. “No.” I shake harshly, eyes rolling back into my head. “Hos... hospital.”

“Okay… okay, yeah, Doll, I can do that. I can do that.” Bucky says quietly, nodding to himself. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, let’s go. C’mon, Doll. Let’s go.”

“...don’t know…”

“...nothing we can…”

“...it won’t be long… gave her sedatives to help...”

“Bullshit!”

“Sir-”

“No! You go in there ‘nd you fix her!”

“Buck, calm-”

“No, Steve! They’re… they’re frauds! ...fix her, dammit!”

“Bucky,” I call softly, swallowing hard as my eyes swim around. Nothing’s in focus- all of it just colors and vague shapes. “Steve?”

Two pairs of footsteps run towards me. Colored silhouettes drift over me and I feel someone cup my face, a thumb rubbing my cheek. My body melts into the touch as someone else grips my hand. “Boys,” I mumble with a lucid smile. “My boys…”

“Heya Doll,” Bucky rasps, “...they’re… they’re gonna fix ya up all nice ‘nd good, alright? You’re… you’re gonna be just fine, Doll.”

I laugh quietly, “...Stevie… what’d they actually say?” I watch as the darker silhouette on my right slightly looks toward the lighter silhouette. “...stop threatening… him, Buck. Let the… let the kid answer.”

Steve grips my hand tighter. “...they, uh... they don’t… they don’t know how to stop the fever.”

“...how much have they given me?” I ask, blinking slowly. My eyelids feel like weights.

“Enough for four people,” Steve answers. I can hear the shake in his voice. Feel the tears landing on my skin.

“But you’re gonna be fine, Doll,” Bucky says quietly. “You’re gonna be okay ‘nd you’re gonna let me take ya on that date.”

“Okay, Buck,” I whisper, my eyelids falling shut. “We’ll… we can go on that date. I’ll… I’ll wear… that new red dress that… you like.”

“Hey, you keep those eyes open, kid,” Bucky snaps, tapping my cheek with his hand.

My eyes slide open and I can feel my chapped lips tug up into a smile. “...I’m so tired, boys.”

“I know but you gotta stay awake, alright?” Bucky whispers, his voice snapping and cracking. I can feel the tears landing on my face as his hand strokes my face and hair.

I know what this is. Endgame. The point of no return. They’ve pumped me so full of drugs they’ll just be killing me faster if they put any more in me. I can feel it, too. Something softly crawling up my legs and body under my skin- like a hum. A gentle relaxation unlike anything. The deepest sleep.

It’s over.

“Steve,” I mumble, “You take care’a him- keep those ditzy broads outta his hair... alright?”

“...okay… okay, __________,” he whispers, his grip growing tighter as I hear him stifle sobs. “I’ll do that.”

“‘nd... Bucky-”

“No,” he snaps, “No, no. No. You stop... talkin’ like that, kid. Stop it, Doll. You’re gonna be okay- you stop it.”

“Bucky, please,” I whisper, feeling my eyes close again. “It’s… Just… take my hand. Please?”

“No. No, I’m… I’m not gonna do that, Doll, you just stay awake. Stay awake!”

“Bucky, please,” I whimper as my eyes slide open. I can’t see anything- just them and black. “I… I don’t wanna go alone. I… I need you two with me.”

“__________, you shut your mouth right now. Stop it.”

“Bucky, take her hand.”

“Shut up, Steve,” Bucky snaps. “I’m… I’m gonna… I’m gonna get help. I’m getting you help, Doll. Okay? I’m gonna be back with help. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Bucky,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face.

The hum has reached my chest as I watch the darker silhouette pull away. Steve turns, yelling for Bucky to get back here and pleading for him with broken sobs.

“Bucky,” I call, sobs wracking my body as only the light colors of Steve stay in vision. “Bucky, please…”

A single tear passes my eyelid as my breath stills.

There’s only one thought on my mind as sound, light, color, and shape fade.

I love you, boys.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #steve rogers #ocs #angst #yeah another cliffhanger #series #chapter one #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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sagamemes · 4 years

Text

critrole sentences — thursday by night, part one. here and below the cut, there’s 160+ lines of dialogue from with the first installment of the two-part show. themes in these sentences are supernatural, survival situations, danger and murder.some more casual things dropped in there to spice things up... but mostly it’s about weird or bad things happening. go wild with horror and supernatural and zombie aus. change names, pronouns, diction, anything to your liking. tw: death, violence, uh... consumption of humans, gore mentions.

❝ i'd say you're dead to me, but, you know. you're dead to everybody. ❞

❝ he's wearing my jacket. if you get blood on my jacket, i'm gonna be very upset. ❞

❝ they like disney films. cheese. amazon gift cards. ❞

❝ maybe they have some leftover chinese. ❞

❝ finish it. finish it, i dare you. ❞

❝ are you gonna suck [name]'s blood?! ❞

❝ if we break the magic, everything comes back to normal, that's how these things work. ❞

❝ it's probably just sean. he works so late. ❞

❝ we're gonna get the fuck out of here, and we're gonna take you with us. ❞

❝ look at my teeth! ❞

❝ come and sit down, have some tea, it's just what you need. ❞

❝ don't fucking jump out and scare me, i'm gonna fucking attack— ❞

❝ i never get this kind of positive feedback, i'm actually liking this. ❞

❝ he's your [petname/friend/brother], man. make sure he's gonna... ❞

❝ you're actually the person i'm most concerned about. ❞

❝ it doesn't look like you're in a lot of pain, i can't tell? ❞

❝ yeah, you guys are fucked. ❞

❝ it's the only door the keycard won't open. /i don't know why./ ❞

❝ don't think i don't have plans. ❞

❝ we would be doing so well if [name] was with us right now. he would know what to do. ❞

❝ this looks like a really crazy game that you're playing. ❞

❝ we don't tell [name]. ❞

❝ you're nothing without us! ❞

❝ i found a bunch of pencils. ❞

❝ somehow, he looks less creepy. ❞

❝ you're here to keep everybody safe. ❞

❝ i just kicked someone in the face and they laughed! ❞

❝ you wanna switch? i take the dagger, you take the giant sword? ❞

❝ whoever comes out, it's not gonna go well for that person. ❞

❝ i am not going to kill you. ❞

❝ /i/ am not going to kill you. ❞

❝ you really need to keep me safe so i can get us out of here. ❞

❝ i'm gonna be honest with you. not all of this was the plan. ❞

❝ how do i end? ❞

❝ do you usually touch things that look like they're gonna explode? ❞

❝ what did we learn about drinking the tea? ❞

❝ there are, for some strange reason, lucky charms in the cabinet. ❞

❝ those might also be worth some money. ❞

❝ you guys have your own language. ❞

❝ you and i will just get out of here. ❞

❝ i wanna eat [food/"food"] again. it was really good. ❞

❝ if you're really squeamish, it's gonna get a little weird. ❞

❝ how well and intimately do you know [name]? ...could you recognise him by just—parts? ❞

❝ you could've lied and i wouldn't have known that! ❞

❝ knock... seven times when the coast is clear. no one knocks seven times, that's ridiculous. ❞

❝ i gotta get to the office. ❞

❝ dad's coming back any second now. ❞

❝ evil people don't pinky-swear! evil people middle-finger-swear! ❞

❝ is anything safe? i mean, come on. ❞

❝ can i take my shirt off—? ❞

❝ what's the matter? you love lucky charms! ❞

❝ we're really thankful that you're here, but... ❞

❝ oh man, this is intense. i'm not even sure this feeling is a high, i don't know what this is. ❞

❝ i've been busy all week. ❞

❝ that's a very good keycard. ❞

❝ the wedding is probably not happening. ❞

❝ welcome to terrible decisions in my life. ❞

❝ she'll freak out. ❞

❝ i convinced [name] that i'm on her side. ❞

❝ i really like [name] but i kinda feel like we should kill her. ❞

❝ half the people you've talked about i've never heard of. ❞

❝ you stay close to me. ❞

❝ [name]'s a goner. ❞

❝ mushrooms have never sat well with me. ❞

❝ life needs things to live. ❞

❝ how cute is the rat? ❞

❝ there's still time. things can still get weird. ❞

❝ it's gonna get a little weird and i'm so sorry. ❞

❝ will it explode if i touch it? ❞

❝ do we get a refund on the wedding gift? ❞

❝ they're saying that if things go pear-shaped, they're gonna fuck us and take care of each other. ❞

❝ i could ask upstairs. ❞

❝ we're all kids when we're in the jaws of a werewolf. ❞

❝ i mean, if you're gonna be a big girl about it. ❞

❝ okay, if shit goes down, i'll help you. ❞

❝ this is not a riddle, i don't have time for that shit. ❞

❝ i feel funny. i'm really hungry. ❞

❝ i'm glad you asked though, it's very polite. ❞

❝ you don't wanna go upstairs. ❞

❝ only i know. ❞

❝ we can't tell [name], they were about to get married! ❞

❝ this doesn't make any sense, but so much sense, at the same time. ❞

❝ you have some weird people working here, you know that? ❞

❝ [softly] jazz hands. ❞

❝ i didn't seem like it was possible to win. ❞

❝ if things go pear-shaped, i got you. ❞

❝ can i just quickly admit that i don't know the layout of the building at all? ❞

❝ pick up the ashes! ❞

❝ have some tea. we'll explain everything. ❞

❝ something is wrong. ❞

❝ quick note: we could get out of here and leave everybody else. ❞

❝ oh my god, i killed someone? ❞

❝ something is wrong, including the giant sign on the wall painted in blood that says ‘ something is wrong ’. ❞

❝ this place is even more trashed than normal. ❞

❝ wow. you /love/ me. ❞

❝ is this one of those magician tricks where you're telling me to pull a certain card and i don't realise it? ❞

❝ i've been wanting to get you in one of my games for a while. ❞

❝ i love the impulse for violence. ❞

❝ evil people don't pinky-swear! ❞

❝ we are in a survival situation! ❞

❝ i ate a rat, baby! ❞

❝ don't burn the company down [when/while] i'm dead. ❞

❝ could somebody get me out of wherever the fuck it is that i am? ❞

❝ i know you're not supposed to be in this meeting. ❞

❝ how much you overestimate me. ❞

❝ you are super cute and all but could you get me out? ❞

❝ [name], this is messed up! [other person] and [other person] are dead! ❞

❝ [name]... [i/you] don't drink tea. ❞

❝ hey, that was a tough night, but i'm sorry, are you okay? ❞

❝ you're huge! you can like, deadlift a house, you can't bust down a door? ❞

❝ what the fuck happened to you?! ❞

❝ i feel like you haven't /earned/ that kind of information yet. ❞

❝ it doesn't taste right. ❞

❝ i hate to rush into anything too hastily. ❞

❝ oh, yeah, right, you're married. ❞

❝ i'm having fun in the most terrifying way possible. ❞

❝ now we all know how you feel about us. ❞

❝ i'm just terrified i'll still have a deadline if i ever get out of here. ❞

❝ stop sticking your fingers in your mouth! ❞

❝ i never know what you're talking about. ❞

❝ maybe there's a way to undo it. ❞

❝ i feel like this is real life. ❞

❝ [it/she] thinks you're the nicest, sweetest, most wonderful person. ❞

❝ we're gonna find a phone. ❞

❝ there's a lot of work to be done. ❞

❝ i'm judging you hard. real hard. ❞

❝ i don't know what any of these buttons do. ❞

❝ i don't see his head. ❞

❝ i think we're all fucked up. ❞

❝ we keep the lights on at this place. ❞

❝ we've never fucking drank tea. ❞

❝ you know me: this is not a riddle. ❞

❝ it was like breakfast pizza and... gyros. ❞

❝ i'm gonna club her in the back of the head, and then we're gonna run off like bandits. ❞

❝ don't judge. ❞

❝ sorry about the stabbing. ❞

❝ well, ask me no more questions and i'll tell you no more lies! ❞

❝ man, you're nervous! ❞

❝ the fuck are you talking about?! ❞

❝ it's not safe out there, shut the—! ❞

❝ [name], show me your hands! ❞

❝ you think this is magic? ❞

❝ i was born in a box. ❞

❝ this is like jumping out of an aeroplane without a parachute but knowing it's foam underneath. ❞

❝ we said that we would look after each other. ❞

❝ everybody's a kid when you're a vampire. ❞

❝ everyone here, i don't know why, kinda likes me. i'm an idiot, but they do. ❞

❝ [name] must be so worried. ❞

❝ i'm sorry i told you you look like shit right after everything happened. i didn't think about it. ❞

❝ i just punched through the floor. ❞

❝ it's not that cute. ❞

❝ you know, you should never meet your heroes. ❞

❝ they're kind of refreshing. don't judge, man. ❞

❝ you're my best friend. /they're/ my best friends, but they're /married/, they have to help each other. so you and me—... ❞

❝ everybody likes me here. ❞

❝ you keep me alive—we all live. ❞

❝ i ate a /man/. ❞

❝ of course! of course, i know what's going on; that's my job. i know what's going on. ❞

❝ i have a good mind for these things and you know what? my intuition is saying i go first. ❞

❝ i think that's a compliment. ❞

#what do you mean it's not october yet #* meme.#* sentences.#sentence starters #sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme

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babeyvenus · 3 years

Text

The Wolf Among Us

Bigby x OC

Summary: Sonya Blaze, A.K.A. Hell Rider, is a half fable, half mundy girl who comes to Fabletown to learn more about her side of the folktales. She works alongside Sheriff Bigby Wolf's as his newest partner and together they strive to find out who's behind the unexpected murders in Fabletown.

TW: Mentions of death, gore/blood, alcohol, smoking, drugs, sex implications, suicide, guns and ofc language.

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Chapter 14: Jersey Devil

They walked down the hall to the sound of shouting. “And you didn’t want to tell me what you were into, either!!”, they hear Beast yell.

“With good reason. Look what happened.”, Beauty argues.

“So that’s back on me now? I thought we agreed that was settled.”, said Beast.

Sonya looked over at Bigby, “What’s going on with them?” Bigby sighs. “When I went to the Open Arms, I found Beauty at the front desk and when we were about to open Crane’s room, Beast showed up. Wasn’t listening to a word. We fought and that was that.”

“Jesus… he’s completely different from what I imagined him to be.”, she says.

“You said it was settled. That doesn’t mean I have to agree to it.”, Beauty said, as they walked up to the door. “And when were you going to tell me? Or were you going to keep that a secret too?”, Beast asked.

“You know what it was. You know what was going on, Beast. I had to get a job, and you wouldn’t have it. Don’t make it into something it wasn’t.”, Beauty harshly whispered. The two outside awkwardly glanced at before Bigby knocked on the door.

The door swings open a bit to reveal an irritated Beast. “Oh. What do you want?”, Beast asked, his mood even more sour. “You called, right?”, Bigby asked. “Or, uh….was it Beauty?”

“Why would I call you?”, Beast sneered. Sonya rolled her eyes. ‘He’s definitely different from Disney’s version…’ Bigby frowned. “Listen, I’ve had a shitty night…”

“You think you’re the only one?”, Beast asked. “And we really don’t wanna deal with the runaround. Snow said you called and wanted to talk to us.”, Bigby adds. “Well, I didn’t call. Must have been Beauty. She’s been….surprising me a lot lately.”, Beast says, looking down.

“Can we just-”

“So have you, Bigby. Yet, with all the sneaking around and secrets, somehow, I’m still the bad guy in this. I’ve had to hear about it all night long from her.”, Beast said. He glared at Sonya as well. “You too. You had no reason to lie to me.”

Sonya gave him an unimpressed look. “I dunno if you've noticed but we’re not marriage counselors.”

Beast wanted to retaliate but Beauty cut him off. “Who is it?”

“Can you just let us in.”, Sonya sighed. “Let’s not get into busting down doors today, okay?”, Bigby asks, with arched eyebrows, Beast growls a sigh and slams the door shut.

Bigby and Sonya looked at each other before the door was yanked open again. “It’s your pals. Bigby and Sonya.”, Beast mocked.

Beauty gave them an apologetic smile. “Hi guys. Please excuse us for just a minute?” She walks over to Beast. “Can I talk to you in private?”

“Yes. Let’s.”, Beast said, leading them into a room and shutting the door. Sonya shakes her head. “Hm. I guess I really do have the smallest apartment in the Woodlands.”, Bigby mutters. “At least yours isn’t cramped. I still think its unfair.”, she muttered.

There was a large couch and two chairs set around a table in the middle of the room. Behind the couch was a fireplace with vases on top of it.

There was a shelf with books and fancy objects on it. There was also a large portrait painting of Beauty and Beast back in the Homelands.

“They actually look happy…”, Sonya mutters and looks up at the ceiling and sees a beautiful chandelier. “Wonder what the electric bill is for that thing?”, Bigby mutters. He walks over a white urn with blue roses designs around it, tapping it with his knuckles. Sonya’s eyes widened. “Stop it. It looks antique.”

They turn to Beast and Beauty as they walk out of the room. “Sorry, it’s been a long night.”, Beauty apologizes.

“Yeah, you know what they say. Centuries of marriage come with centuries of baggage.”, Beast said, making Sonya cross her arms. “I gotta say, your place…it looks, uh…expensive.”, Bigby says as he looks around. “What do you mean by that?” Beast asked, offended.

“Beast!”, Beauty says in a warning tone. “No, really, I wanna know. What are you trying to say, huh?”, Beast asked.

“Aren’t you guys having money problems? Cause it doesn't look like you’re suffering.”, Sonya said, getting in front of Beast. “Is this something about that loan you took out? From the Crooked Man?”, Bigby asked Beauty.

“I didn’t know what else to do, so–”

“We should deal with this on our own. Bigby and Sonya are just going to complicate things.”, Beast says to Beauty. “I called them here, and I want to see if they can help us out. Why are you being like this?”, Beauty asked, tired.

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for us.”, Beast says.

“If she wanted to help you guys earn more money, what’s the harm? Y’all are obviously in some type of trouble, so what is it? Either it’s the money, or it’s something else.”, Sonya asked.

The married couple glanced at each other before looking back at them. “I gotta know one thing, first. What if we did have something to say about the Crooked Man? What if we talk, and neither of you get him and all this comes back on us? We’d be risking a lot. We’ve seen what happens when you cross the Crooked Man.”, Beast said.

Sonya frowned. “Y’all are in danger. You two need to tell us what we need to know so we can help.”, she said, tiredly.

“But if you’d rather deal with this on your own…”, Bigby started. “No, please...”, Beauty pleads. “Then tell us what the fuck is going on! You’re in so much debt? Look around you. This isn’t the way people short on cash live.”, Bigby yelled, pointing at the room.

“Look, we’re used to a certain kind of….lifestyle, okay? We couldn’t just give that up.” Beast replied. “We never meant for it to get like this. It’s just that…we had nowhere else to turn. And we got in over our heads.” said Beauty.

“Sometimes you have to think for your needs rather than your wants. Y’all would rather choose riches and starve if it meant y’all could live the way you used to.”, Sonya says, shaking her head.

"There’s not a lot of work out there. Who would we be if we just lived like…”, Beast started to say but their phone suddenly rang.

Sonya and Bigby turn to look at it while Beauty and Beast hold each other in fear. The phone rings until it goes to voicemail.

“Hi there! You’ve reached Beauty…

and Beast

and we’re out doing something fabulous.”

“Uh, let me just, uh….”, Beast walks towards the phone but Sonya gives him a fixed look. “We’re not done here.”, Bigby said.

“A day at the beach?

skiing the slopes?

We can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message at the beep and we will get to you as…..humanly possible!”

The recording finishes and a deep gravelly voice comes through the speaker, angry and aggressive. “That fucking message... I’m gonna come down there and bash your heads in with that machine if I have to call again and hear that fucking message one more time! I’ve been doing this long enough to know that if you had the cash, you’d have paid by now. So consider yourselves outta warnings. The Crooked Man’s gonna get his. One way or—”

“Fuck this….”, Bigby said as he goes to pick up the phone but the phone already hung up. “Shit.”, he mutters and he sets the phone back down. Sonya turned to the couple. “All we care about is how can we find the Crooked Man? Who do we talk to? Where do we go?”

Beauty and Beast look at each other for a moment as they hold each other. “The Lucky Pawn. That’s where I borrowed the money. The Crooked Man’s behind that place.”, Beauty whimpered. “I’d overheard people talking to Jersey about loans before. So….when I needed money….that’s where I went. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Wait, who do you deal with?”, Bigby asked. “Jersey. You know, the Jersey Devil?”, Beauty said. “Jersey Devil…?”, Sonya asks. “Oh, yeah…", Bigby said. "That slimy prick…..didn’t realize he was back on this side of the river.”

“And those Tweedles were always going in and out, probably dropping off a loan payment they squeezed out of some poor Fable. But never the Crooked Man. Mainly it’s just regular Fables. I can see now that it was a mistake, but….I’m not the only one who goes there, y'know. I saw the Woodsman’s axe there just the other day. It was in a display case.”, Beauty said, making Bigby and Sonya glance at each other in shock.

“I guess he’s hit hard times, too. There’s a lot of that going around. I can’t imagine he has a lot of marketable skills.”, Beast said.

“Sometimes….Fables just don’t have anywhere else to go.” Beauty said. “Fucking Bloody Mary must go through there. She had Woody’s axe last night. Tried to chop my damn head off with it!” Bigby growled.

“Maybe if you two go there you can….sort some things out.”, Beauty said. “I guess we’ll go check out the Lucky Pawn.”, Sonya sighed.

“If we can’t track down the Crooked Man there, maybe we can make enough noise that the Crooked Man will come find us.”, Bigby suggested. “Hold on, Bigby, don’t go there. Sounds like you two are just going to get Beauty in trouble.” Beast says.

He sat down on the couch. “You know that butcher shop? The Cut Above? It’s the place on Tubman Street. Same block as the Baker and the candlestick maker. Well, I’ve been delivering packages from there for a while. The thing is….it’s for the Crooked Man. And….I don’t think it’s meat in the packages. You gotta understand, I needed work.”

“You have to believe us.”, Beauty begged. “Did you ever deliver to the Crooked Man? Can you give us an address?”, Sonya asked.

"No. I delivered to places all over town. But never to the man himself. It never seems to be heading to the same place. But it always comes out of the butcher shop.“, Beast replied.

"How did you get involved with this?”, Bigby asked.

“Johann, the butcher, called. He had a problem with the refrigeration unit one night. But when I finished, it was your pal, Mary, who showed up to pay me. She said I was reliable, she liked that, and….it’s the only thing I’ve been able to pick up. And it’s still not enough. I don’t want Beauty to have to work. Especially not where she was.”. Beast says, looking down.

“It’s Mary you deal with? Bloody Mary is there?”, Sonya asked. “No, Johann is the one who hands over the packages. You know, day to day. But I’ve seen her around there. She, uh…gets under my skin, you know? I…I try to avoid her…but I don’t need to tell you two what she’s like.” Beast said.

“You’re damn right you don’t. I don’t need a run down on her reputation. If Mary works outta there, Sonya and I need to look into it…”, Bigby said.

Beauty walks over to Beast and places her hand over his. “I just wanted to provide for Beauty. Give her the kind of life she deserves.”, Beast said. “We shouldn’t have to live like this. Scraping to get by.” said Beauty.

“None of us should.”, Beast says, getting up. “We were royalty once. We were accustomed to a certain lifestyle. All we want is to make this place feel a little bit like home. You two wouldn’t understand, Bigby.”

“I don’t need to understand. It’s not my fucking job to understand. My job is to keep Fabletown safe.”, Bigby addressed.

“There’s also other Fables out there who are worse off than you two. Have you ever thought about that? I’m pretty sure lots of fables would love to have almost everything you have in here.”, Sonya said to them.

Beast sighs. “So….where are you going? If this all goes sideways, I’d like to know where it’s coming from.”

Sonya and Bigby glance at each other. “I’m down for whatever.”, she says. Bigby nods. “We’ll go to the Lucky Pawn. There’s too much going on there to ignore. We’ll have a word or two with Jersey.”, Bigby said.

“You know, guys, once you two show your face there, word is going to get out. There may be nothing left to see if you go to the butcher shop after.”, Beast said.

“We’ll keep that in mind.”, Sonya said as Bigby walks to the door and opens it. Sonya exits and he follows her.

“Wait….I don’t know what you two are planning to do when you find the Crooked Man, but is there any way you two could….help us out?”, Beast asked, following to ask. They pause.

“What do you mean?”, Sonya asks. “Well, maybe you two can make this all just….go away.”, Beast suggested. “We would really appreciate it.”, Beauty adds.

“You’re asking us to kill him, aren’t you? Is that what you think we do?”, Bigby asked them, getting angry. “No! Of course not.”, Beauty shakes her head.

“I don’t know how you’d get that idea. We just….we know that the Crooked Man is dangerous. To all of Fabletown.”, Beast said.

“I just wanna know something. Even if it came to that…. which at this point, it would be self defense after everything he’s put us through, what would y’all say? How would you feel? Would you be afraid? Relieved?”, Sonya asked, making them look at her. “Because if we do, end him… I don’t wanna hear that y’all are afraid that y’all would be next.”, she says, making them look down.

“If you’re not doing anything remotely similar to the Crooked man, you have nothing to worry about. We’re gonna do our job.”, she says and turns away. “Lucky for you, that might just solve your problems anyway.”, she said, walking away.

“Thank you, guys.” Beauty calls out after them. “I’m sure you guys will do the right thing.”, Beast adds. Bigby and Sonya ride the elevator down to the lobby.

The Lucky Pawn

Sonya and Bigby looked at the rickety old building before walking in. “It’s dirty.”, they hear.

“No it’s not.”

They look over to see Toad arguing with Jack as he tries to trade in a familiar brown coat. “It looks like you slept in it. In a pile of garbage.”, Jack argues as he looks at the cloak.

“Jack, why are you– I’ve seen you take a torn purse for a tenner!”, Toad shouted. “Yeah, but I also got her phone number. I don’t want your phone number.”, Jack said, shaking his head and he looked over to see them walking towards him.

“Here we go...”, he sighed. “What?”, Toad asked and turns around to see Sonya and Bigby. “This is a surprise.”, Toad said.

“We’re just here for information. It’s about the murders.”, Bigby rolls his eyes. “This’ll take two minutes and I’ll be out your way.”, Toad said.

“I’m not taking the coat.”, Jack repeats. “But it’s magic.”, Toad said. "So?“, Jack asked, shrugging. "And it’d be covering a check I already wrote.”, Toad says.

“Okay, well….that sounds like a you problem to me.” said Jack. “Yeah, it is! And so I came here to sell it off!”, Toad shouts. Sonya sighed and noticed the coat, her eyes widened. “Isn't that Faith's coat?”

“It was Faith’s coat.”, Toad says. “Look, you left it in my place, what’d you expect me to do?”

“Yes, I think the oft-cited statute of finders keepers clearly states that it’s his now, Miss Sonya.” Jack said, smirking. Sonya clenches her jaw and gives Bigby a look. He only sighed through his nose.

“So what’s it gonna be?”, Toad asked Jack again. “I don’t know what to tell ya. See if Cindy needs a coat, I don’t know.”, Jack said and Toad let out a frustrated sigh.

He turns to the other two. “This is to pay for those bloody glamours, you know. You and your blinkered rules. If the witches didn’t charge so fuckin’ much…I wouldn’t have to be in here, dealing with this nonsense."

Sonya frowned and crossed her arms, “What happened to the money I gave you?” Toad looked down. “Please don’t tell me you spent it on some new car accessory.”, Bigby says, frowning.

"What are you even complainin’ to them, for?”, Jack asked. “I guess I don’t know.”, Toad said, shrugging. “I don’t know what you’re gettin’ so steamed about….it shouldn’t be that big of a shock that I’m not going to take an ass-hair coat.”, Jack shook his head.

“No, I guess it shouldn’t be….since this whole bleedin’ operation’s just a set-up for one of his shady fuckin’ loans.”, Toad shouts in anger, making Jack’s eyes widen, as he glances at Bigby and Sonya. “Ix-nay on the oan-lays. Okay, og-fray?”, Jack whispered to him. “I mean, what kind of a game are you runnin’ here?”, Toad asked.

“Toad–”

“You turn down peoples’ stuff so you can peddle his shit?”, Toad asked. “We know who you’re talking about.”, Bigby said, crossing his arms. “Um, Og-Fray?”, he asked, pointing at Toad.

“The Crooked Man. Right? This is his place. Those are his loans.”, Sonya said, also crossing her arms. Toad smiles mischievously and grabs the coat. “Well, I’ll leave you to your business….I’m sure you’ll have a lot to talk about.”

“Good luck with that glamour, Toad.”, Jack sneers as Toad starts to walk away. “Fuck off.”, Toad shouts at him. “Leave the coat.”, Bigby ordered firmly.

“How the hell do you expect me to get a glamour, then?”, Toad asked, throwing the coat down on the floor. “It’s not like I’ve got a lot of options, you know. It’s just tough, is all.“

“Just do what I fuckin’ say, alright?”, Bigby said, getting irritated. “Leave the coat. Find another way.”

“Fine! I’m leaving…but I’m taking the coat with me!”, Toad said, angrily. Sonya sighed, pulling the wad of cash from her pocket. Bigby looked at her. “Where the hell did you get that?”

She gave him a guilty smile and handed it to Toad. “However much it costs, its worth it, Toad. Just go get your glamour, if not for you then do it for T.J. Please.”, she said, exasperated. Toad sighs and snatches the wad before leaving. Jack smiles and waves. “Have a good day.”

“He really grows in ya.”, Jack said, smiling. Bigby and Sonya face him, making him frightened. "Look, I work here sometimes for the extra cash. It’s something stable. You know, between more….entrepreneurial bouts. And…before either of you ask, I’ve never seen the Crooked Man in here. Neither hide nor hair, and all that. In fact, as far as I can tell, he’s never even actually stepped foot in here.“, Jack explained.

"But Bloody Mary works for him. And the last time we saw her, she had the Woodsman’s axe.”, Bigby said, leaning on the counter, glaring at Jack. “So?”, Jack asked, nervously. “So, the last time anybody else saw that axe….it was here.”, Sonya said.

“We’d never take something like that.”, Jack said. “Bullshit.”, Sonya says, surprising Jack. “Is this really why you two came down here?”, Jack asked, nervously. “We’ll be asking the questions here, Jack.”, Bigby said, shutting him up. “Okay. Fine. Fire away.”, Jack said.

“Where’s your boss? Why isn’t he here?”, Bigby asked. “I don’t know?”, Jack says. “You know something, so where is he?”, Sonya asked.

“I dunno, I don’t keep tabs on him. He’s probably out getting shit faced and eating cows right now. Listen, I gotta start closing up shop, so, uh–”, Jack said as he walked out from behind the counter.

“Close? It’s the middle of the day.”, Bigby pointed out. "What can I say, Jersey likes to run at odd hours. And, really, he’d be the one to talk to, so….can’t you two just swing by later. It really wouldn’t be good for me if he sees your faces when he walks in. So, uh…“, Jack said .

"What else can you tell us about Jersey Devil?” Bigby asked. “Just that he’s a fuckin’ psycho and I like to stay out of his way. I typically work when he’s not here. But I can call you when he comes back, alright?”, Jack says.

"Jack, shut up.”, Sonya said. “If the Jersey Devil isn’t here to answer our questions….it also means he isn’t here to get in our way. So, we’re gonna take a look around…as long as we’ve got the elbow room.”

“Alright. Don’t let me get in your way.”, Jack said, locking up. “We won’t.”, Bigby said, walking over to a different side of the room.

Bigby walked up to a small statue of the Headless Horseman that was on the far left of the room. “The Headless Horseman? Isn’t this Crane’s?”, Bigby asked. “Maybe? I don’t know.”, Jack shrugged.

Bigby rolled his eyes, walked next to the table and saw a familiar dagger. “This is Prince Lawrence’s dagger. Who sold this?”, he says, catching Sonya's attention.

“I don’t know.”, Jack repeated, shrugging. “Who would have done that? One of the Tweedles….”, Sonya mumbled. “Whoever did it, must’ve needed the money bad. Which shouldn’t come as a total shock. You guys don’t know how hard most of us have it….do you?", Jack asks.

"Yeah? If you had our job, you wouldn’t get out of bed.”, Bigby growled. “It was a rhetorical question….but sure, fine.”, Jack rolled his eyes.

"At least you aren't dead.", Sonya says as she looks through all of the significant objects in the display cases. Nothing out of the ordinary. Bigby walks over to a display that caught his eyes. Cleaving Axe.

Previous owner: The Woodsman

Ensorcelled by Druids

His chest rumbled with a growl as he turned to Jack. “I thought you said you’d never take something like this.", Bigby growls. Sonya looks up to see Bigby storm over to Jack angrily.

“Um….um, what?” Jack stammered, nervously. “Jack?”, Bigby asked. “Uh, yeah?”, Jack replied, nervously again.

“When was Mary here?” Bigby asked him, raising an eyebrow. “When was who here?” Jack said. Sonya rolled her eyes. "Please don't play dumb."

“Bloody Mary. Because the axe was here….but it’s gone. And she had it. So she was here.”, Bigby said.

“I don’t know anything about that.”, Jack said, stepping back. “I don’t. Really.”

Bigby pulls up the little hatch table, and stalks over to Jack like a predator. “I mean, I don’t work every day, so….and even when I do work, I just try and keep my head down.”, Jack rambles.

Sonya crosses her arms. "You'd be no better than Georgie. Looking away because you got your cut and don't care about innocent people getting hurt. It's bullshit."

Bigby growled loudly, making Jack flinch. "Okay, okay! It was Mary, she took it, okay. That’s all I know!”, Jack exclaimed.

“That’s all you know? You don’t know she almost fucking killed me with it last night!?”, Bigby snarled. “No, no, I had no goddamned idea! She sometimes comes in to pick up shit. Sometimes it’s for her….”, Jack said.

“You know where she lives? Where she took it?”, Sonya asked. “I don’t know where that crazy chick lives, and I don’t wanna know.”, Jack said, shaking his head.

“Well, for your sake, you better think of something to tell us.”, Bigby growled. “That’s all I can tell you. I’m being straight here! I’m just part-time. I mean, it’s Jersey who’s the one who’s into this stuff! He’s one of the Crooked Man’s boys, okay? And it’d be great if he was here to tell you all this, but he’s not, so just–”, Jack was cut off by two extra voices from outside.

"Shit....“, Sonya mutters. "Jersey, don’t give me that shit. What the fuck is the point of havin’ a system if you’re just gonna–”

“It’s not my fuckin’ system.”

“But you’re the guy who makes sure that–”

“I’m the guy that keeps shit in order and that’s it, Woody.”

Bigby ducks down and Sonya ducks behind another display case, watching as Woody and another man walk in the building and see the gate was pulled down. “Who closed the fucking gate? Jack?”, Jersey called, irritated.

He pulls up the gate, revealing himself clearly. He was a balding, gingered man with a thick mustache. He turns to face Woody. “If you love your axe so fuckin’ much, why’d you pawn it in the first fuckin’ place, huh?”

“I didn’t pawn it, asshole. It was stolen from my apartment. And Gren said that he saw it here. Now tell me where it is right fuckin’ now.”, Woody demanded.

Sonya and Bigby, reveal themselves, walking over to the two arguing men.

“Whatcha guys arguing about?", Sonya asked with a smile. Jersey jumps looking behind him and rolls his eyes. “God. And these fuckin’ guys, too?”

“Bigby? Sonya? What are you–”, Woody started to ask but Jersey cuts him off as he looks at Jack. “Is his axe even here?”, he asked. “Nope. It isn’t.”, Jack shook his head.

“Just like I said, it’s not here. Happy?”, Jersey asks and walks over to Sonya and Bigby. “So tell me what you two are here for, or get the fuck out."

"Uh….they wanted to know where–”

“Actually, you know what, I don’t care what they wanted.”, Jersey said, interrupting Jack, smirking.

Sonya rolls her eyes. "Such a salesman." Bigby walked up. “You work with the Crooked Man.”, he said firmly. “And until we give you permission…you’re not gonna do anything but answer our questions.”

Jersey glanced at Bigby's arm. “How’s your arm, Sheriff? Bloody Mary leaves a bit of a sting, don’t she?”

He turned to Jack. “Jack, did you know that as of this very morning, Bigby's joined the Crooked Man’s obedience school for wayward fucking creatures? He’s already passed his first class. You see….the Sheriff and the Deputy had, who they stupidly thought was the murderer….been chasing him for fuckin’ days, right? But the Crooked Man snapped his bony fingers….and these two handed him over just…like…that.”

“I’m, uh, just gonna, uh…let you three…you know….”, Jack said, backing away and leaving.

“The Crooked Man appreciated that.”, Jersey said, making them glare at him. “Tell us everything you know right now about the murders, and the Crooked Man.”, Bigby ordered.

“Are you kidding me! It was here. It was right fuckin’ here! What’d you do with it!?”, Woody shouted as he got in Jersey’s face. “How the fuck do I know?”, Jersey asked.

“Listen, you bald little dipshit, you’re gonna–”, Woody started to threaten, grasping Jersey by his shirt but Jersey punches Woody in the stomach. Woody groans and growled at him. “You piece of shit.” Wood throws a punch, making Jersey retaliate.

Bigby moved Sonya out of the way and got in between them, shoving them away from each other. “Back it up, Jersey. You’re dealing with us, now.”, Bigby said, facing Jersey as he gets in front of Woody.

“I didn’t expect to see you upright. Still looking for whoever killed them hookers or are you done chasing your tail?”, Jersey asked.

“Where’s my axe! Who’d you give it to!”, Woody yelled. “You follow me here all the way from Battery fucking Park…just so I can prove to you that your axe isn’t here…and you think I’m gonna take another inch of abuse-”, Jersey started fussing.

“Hey! Back off and settle down!” Bigby ordered. “Oh what the fuck are you gonna do? You talk big, but I don’t think you got the stones to back it up.”, Jersey said to Bigby as he punched Bigby in the side where he was injured.

“Bigby!”, Sonya exclaimed, watching him double over in pain. “Still a little sore, are we?” Jersey asked Bigby. “Why should Mary get all the fun? You ain’t so tough.”

Sonya silently walks behind him as he continues to put Bigby down. “Ya know what? I’m just gonna handle you myself….and I won’t need no silver bullets.”

Sonya grabbed him and slammed him against the glass display cases. He yells in pain as she grabs his head and slams it against the case.

“Motherfucker!”, he grumbles as she slams his head against it again and the glass breaks and his face hits the crystal ball.

She grimaced as she pulled his head back, seeing pieces of the crystal ball impaled in his face. “What the hell are you doing?”, Woody yells, pulling her off of Jersey. “This is my fucking fight!”

“Get your hands off of her!”, Bigby yelled, snatching Sonya away. “Dog, you got a lotta nerve–”, Woody shouted but a strange noise made them look over to see a tall, skeletal creature. It almost looked like a skinwalker. Sonya's eyes widened. "That's Jersey…?", she whispered.

He roars at them, making their eyes widen. Woody charges at him but Jersey simply smacks him to the side and starts to charge at Bigby and Sonya but Woody holds on to Jersey’s arm and pulls him down.

Jersey gets on top of Woody and starts to claw at him repeatedly. Bigby runs up to them and punt kicks Jersey over the glass counter and knocks him towards the back and hits a closet.

Bigby changed to his first form, cracking his neck as he stood in a defensive stance. “Aww, protecting your girlie friend….too bad you couldn’t protect those whores.”, Jersey said, tauntingly as he climbed up on the counter. “Go on, try to stop me!”

He jumps off the table and charges towards them but Bigby raises his clawed hand and shoves his claw into Jersey, slamming him down on the floor.

“Fucking stay down!”, Bigby snarled. Woody gets up and looks at the open, broken closet and sees his axe. “There she is!”, he said, satisfied.

Sonya and Bigby kicked Jersey to the floor and ran over to him, as he landed near the front door. They grabbed the gates and slammed it down on the back of his neck.

Jersey screams as they pull it up then start to slam it back down but Jersey grabs it and shoves it up. He starts to claw at them but they jump away from his attacks.

Bigby punches Jersey in the face repeatedly before Jersey lowers his head and tries to shove his horns into Bigby. Bigby dodges Jersey's horns and grabs one, tugging it out of Jersey’s head then shoves it into his stomach. Jersey screams in pain then shoves Bigby against the display case.

Bigby groans in pain as Jersey jumps in front of him then shoves one of his clawed hands into Bigby’s injured arm. Bigby yells in pain. “Fucker!"

Jersey shoves his claw deeper into Bigby’s arm and Sonya jumps on Jersey’s back, lighting her hands on fire and burning his neck. Jersey screams out in pain, pulling his claw out of Bigby.

Sonya increased her heat, nearly gagging at the burnt smell before she's pulled off of Jersey's back and slammed onto the floor. Sonya's eyes widened as her breath was knocked out of her.

"Hey asshole. I found her.”, Woody announces before slamming his axe down into Jersey’s head. Jersey lets out a shriek of pain and he slaps Woody to the side and tries to pull the axe out.

Bigby looks next to him and picks up an anvil, raises it above his head then slammed it down on Jersey, knocking him down on the floor.

Bigby pushes the anvil to the side, reverting back to his human form and helps Sonya stand. She looks at his arm. “You okay?”, she asked. “More or less. You?”, he said, shrugging. "More or less.", she smiled, catching her breath.

Woody walks over to Jersey, yanking his axe out of Jersey’s head. He hovers the axe over Jersey’s neck and he looks up at Bigby and nods. Bigby squats down next to Jersey. “So…..wanna try again?”

“You can’t find the Crooked Man. No one can. There’s no address, no place….he lives in the bends and forks of tree roots….behind the sun….in the….shadows.”, Jersey says. “You know more so tell us.”, Sonya ordered.

“The door to his house….it bounces around. Never in one spot. You’ll never find it. Even Crane had to use the Magic Mirror….that fuckin’ guy. Mirror, Mirror…fuckin’ shit…”, Jersey grumbles. “Okay, that’s Crane’s way….how do you contact him?”, Bigby asked him.

“I don’t. He uses couriers for everything. Ravens, goblins, the fuckin’ Tweedles…whatever. I go in when I’m taken there. You don’t know anything….about anything, do you? What do you have? Nothin’. That useless bitch, Snow White, and a broken fuckin’ mirror….no fuckin’ friends. And no clue about who is really runnin’ this town.”, Jersey said.

Sonya grabs his arm, sizzling his wrist and watching him struggle in pain. "You're going round and round with our question. You and everyone we've met up 'til now have said the exact same thing. We're asking questions for a reason. So answer them." She lets go. “Now, where did you hear that the mirror got broken?”

“Oh. That. Gossip flies fast. We’re like a sewing circle. It doesn’t matter what you fuckin’ do, you’re not gonna get him. You two wanna knock on his fuckin’ door and see what happens? Fine. Crane had the Mirror. Bloody Mary had Crane. So take your fucking wrecking crew act to the butcher shop.”, Jersey says.

“The Cut Above.”, Bigby mutters, remembering Beast's words. “And if we can find the mirror piece there, we can find the Crooked Man.”

“That’s her spot. That’s where all the magic happens….”, Jersey says as Woody backs away and takes his axe away from his neck. Jersey begins to crawl back. “Now leave me so I can find me some aspirin.”, he says, only to fall face down on the floor.

“Will Mary be there?”, Bigby asked Jersey. “You want me to draw you a picture? I don’t fucking know….you got what you want, now get the fuck outta here….”, Jersey ordered.

Sonya sighed, glancing at Bigby as he glanced at her before starting to leave. Jersey speaks up again. “Hey…Sheriff….Deputy."

Both of them stop, hearing Jersey out. "Those girls are still dead….and there’s nothin’ you two can do to bring them back. And I don’t know what they did, but I do know this… if they’re dead, it’s cause the Crooked Man wanted them dead. That’s all it takes. So you can roar, smash the place up. Shit, you can wail on me all you want, but what good is it gonna do ya? Cause he ain’t in your town. You’re in his.”

Bigby growls lowly, turns around and kicks Jersey in the face, making him yell in pain. “Just shut the fuck up, will ya?”, Bigby said, turning back around, and leading Sonya and Woody out of the shop.

Bigby pulls out a cigarette, making Sonya turn away. “Got a smoke?”, Woody asked him. Bigby lights his cigarette and hands it to Woody, before lighting another one up for himself. “Thanks.”, Woody said, taking a drag. “Shitty brand.”

Bigby side eyed him. “You’re welcome.” Sonya waved her hand to dispel the smoke.

“I’m not gonna lie, I was having trouble deciding which one of you to hit with this thing.” Woody said to Bigby. Sonya gaped at Woody, making Bigby shake his head. Bigby drops the cigarette and squishes it under his shoe.

Sonya waved a cab down and waited as it came up. She climbs in first, waiting on Bigby. Bigby starts to follow suit but Woody calls him. “Jersey was wrong, you know.”

“About what?”, Bigby asked.

“About those girls. There is somethin’ you two can do about it. You can get the fucker who did it. Ain’t that the plan?”, Woody asked.

“You're damn right it is.”, Bigby says, smiling. “Alright. Well….go do it, then.”, Woody says before he starts walking away. Bigby stands outside the cab, looking at the retreating man. “Hey Woody.”

Woody stops, keeping his back faced toward the other man. “Yeah?”

“I’ll see you around, alright?”, Bigby said. Woody turns his head to look at Bigby over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll see ya.”, he says and finally walks away. Bigby looks down for a moment then he climbs in the cab, sighing softly.

Sonya smiled at him. "You guys have such great teamwork. You'd think you'd wanna stop fighting each other."

"That's practically all I wanna do. But sometimes he makes it hard to get along with him.", Bigby mutters. She nodded. "He is pretty difficult to deal with… ", she mumbles, sleepily.

He noticed and sat up a bit. "You can sleep, y'know. It'll be a bit of a while before we get there." She yawned and nodded. "I think I will..."

She let her eyes close and seconds later, she's out. He smiles, leaning his head back against his seat. He jumps a bit to feel a little weight leaning on him and sees Sonya leaning against him, sound asleep.

He stares at her for a moment then relaxes as she snuggles into him a bit. He felt light. She didn't wake up and pull away as if he were something disgusting. She was the opposite of anyone that even remotely showed him any kindness.

She always seemed so comfortable with him. Never tiptoeing around him or doing things for him out of fear or pity.

She never made him feel like a ticking time bomb and even defended him countless of times. It made his heart swell in a strange way he's never felt before but it made him comfortable enough to accept it.

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