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waywardimpalawriter · 3 years

Note

hi! i really love your writing, and was really hoping you could do another dean winchester x f! plus size reader. possibly were they are best friends and she is pining for someone else. so before she can make her move on someone else he stops her and confess his love for her. idk maybe some angst/fluff/smut?? you don’t have to if u don’t want to, it’s totally up to you. like no pressure at all! but seriously, i do really love all your writing and i wanted to say thank you for everything u write and do!! <3 once again no pressure at all with this ask, but overall thank you!!<3

Just one good reason

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader

SPN mixed Bingo Square: Hurt/Comfort Square

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,

Setting: mid season 11

Rating: E (explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: angst, smut, yearning, grumpy and sweet Dean (yes they need a warning),

Word count: 12,805 (Truly Was suppose to be this long. I blame Dean for this.)

Summary: He’s given a million reasons, damaged goods, blood on his hands, nightmares, scared in so many ways. But most of all that he’s not good enough. Just when you’re ready to walk out that door he gives you one good reason to stay.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this request, I love writing for Dean so very much and to add a plus size gal in as well that just makes my day. I do hope you’ll enjoy this story. The song “Million Reasons” both version’s by Lady Gaga and Briana Buckmaster are inspiration for this story.

Tag list: Is open for all character’s and series I write for.

@spnmixedbingo

Dean Winchester list: @akshi8278

Just one good reason list: @chickensarentcheap

@impala1967dwinchester, @lilacprincessofrecovery, @superavengerpotterstar @jbbarnesgirl @sofreddie @slightlyobsessedwithissues

Ancient hinges creak wearily, firm hand pushing to hold open the heavy door letting you and Sam pass by. Fatigued sigh leaves slightly chapped lips, “It’s good to be home.” Taking the stairs down two at a time, tossing duffle bags towards the war table.

“Going soft on us old man?” Teasing quip tugging a smile from your lips as you drop down into the nearest chair. “Getting use to having that soft bed under your ass now huh?”

Scoffing, whiskey flecked green eyes settling on your plush frame, “Woman you forget we’re the same age first off.” Playfully stocking towards you, hands placed on the back of your chair to cage you in. “Second damn right that bed is magical, memory form baby, it remembers me,” poking your side, giggle leaving your lips body squirming in the seat.

“Stop,” pleading tone entering your voice, trying to evaded his questing hands trailing along your curvy sides. “Please,” puppy eyes begging for mercy, his hands aren’t willing to give. Though you can’t bring yourself to care seeing the weight, even for a moment, disappear from his countenance. Or the fact your sides aren’t the ticklish spot on your body, moving in the seat purely for show.

“Say your sorry for calling me old,” brow lifting watching you squirm under his hands. Wishing and not for the first time, he could have your soft body slotted against his harder frame. Knowing how well you fit just in a different way, one that hasn’t been enough for a long time.

Giggles burst from your lips, hands flat against the hard plains of his chest tugging on the dark blue t-shirt to distract from his plans. Pushing him away which had as much of an effect as a toy bulldozer did against a real brick wall. “Okay, okay I’m sorry, promise I’m sorry,” gasping for breath giving a hard tap to his shoulder.

“Now who’s giving up too soon?” Hands pause as his eyes catch yours for a long moment. Smiling face beaming up at him, heart beating triple time and not from assaulting you with his hands. Unable to resist the urge to touch your soft skin. Callused fingers come up to barely graze just under your left eye carefully capturing the eyelash on the tip of his forefinger from your cheek, “Make a wish.”

Leaning forward to place your lips close to the offered digit, eyes closed to blow a cold stream, eyelash fluttering away unseen. Keeping your libs lowered for a bit longer torn between what you truly desire and what’s within your grasp. Whiskey roughened voice breaking through your thoughts, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

“What you wish for?” Swallowing hard, beloved eyes flutter open to ensnare his in there depths. Catching something simmering just below but disappears quicker than a jack rabbit running from a coyote.

Clearing yours throat, “Can’t tell ya Deano won’t come true if I do.” Giving a smile, pressing him backwards to raise and grab your duffle bag. Cell phone signaling an incoming text message making you pull the the black case wrapped piece of tech out of your front jeans pocket. Bright smile pulling your lips higher seeing just who’s messaged you. “Catch y’all later.”

“Someone good?” Sam speaks for the first time since coming home. Watching the scene between his brother and best friend. Wanting to strangle the both of you for not seeing what’s right in front of you.

Head snapping up from buried in your phone to stare wide eyed at Sam, “Yes, no I mean it’s nothing but could be something.”

“Will again?” Peripheral catching the dark scowl pass over Dean’s features before disappearing behind a mask of indifference.

Humming sweetly, sparkle lighting your eyes that go back to your phone for a moment. “He’s asking if we can meet up tomorrow for lunch, trying to choose where to eat.”

“What about,” clearing his throat to unclog the emotions choking off the air to breath. “That little diner in town? It’s your favorite and serves the best pie aside yours of course.”

Trapping and tugging your bottom lip between nibbling teeth, head shaking in the negative. “Nope he’s not fond of greasy foods.”

‘Plus that’s our spot,’ unbridled thought slides into your mind and you want to look over at Dean to remind him. But push those thoughts aside with a wave, heading towards the bedrooms carefully making sure not to bump into a wall while responding.

Green eyes follow till you round the corner, heart catching in his throat cursing himself for mentioning your diner. Knowing better yet wanting confirmation without asking if the spot is still special.

“You’re an idiot Dean,” shaggy brown head shaking as he to snaps up his duffle bag to head towards his room. “The foundation is already there start building before it cracks.”

“Thanks Riddler, just cause I’m Batman doesn’t mean you have to be so fucking vague.” Left with his thoughts and the growing feeling he’s loosing you to another man. Dean leaves his stuff lay where it landed glancing over the chair you vacated not five minutes ago then heading towards the kitchen. In need of something harder than beer but settling for the dark brew being the only alcohol in the bunker.

Opening the fridge door, grabbing a brew his fingers brush against the clear plastic container holding a single slice of pecan pie. Eyes unseeing, drifting back into memories when the Mark of Cain still burned into his skin.

2015

Charlie’s dead, beaten, murdered and left in a pool of her own blood. Every time his eyes close she’s there, expressionless sea green eyes staring blankly into his own. Never hearing her snarky retorts, sassy ways or those hugs she gave. Staring into cold brown sludge, hands gripping the mug a little too tightly. Not sure why he chose to come here of all places. When he could’ve started out on his hunt for the Styne’s. Deep down though he knows the reason right as the little bell signals someone’s entered the small family owned diner. Knowing exactly who and trying to ready himself for your present.

Never ready for how your soft fingers brush along his temple, settling on his shoulder for a moment while you slide into the worn pleather covered booth. Trailing those gentle fingers down his black and grey plaid covered arm. Tugging one hand from around the ceramic cup to intertwine your fingers. Head coming to rest on his shoulder, no words just comfort in a time when he needs it most.

“You shouldn’t be here,” dark with hints of gravel and kissed with pain in the tone. Whiskey flicked green obits focus, for the first time on something besides the cup in his hands, landing on the top of your head.

Shrugging, “Where else should I be Dean?” Looking up at him sorrowful eyes meeting right when your other palm comes up to brush moisture from his cheek. Unnoticed tears sliding down cool cheeks, “You’re my best friend there’s no place I’d rather be then right here helping you.”

“You could get killed,” the very through twists his heart till almost bursting. Brings bile to rise in the back of his throat, slithering through his system to settle unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It’s one thing to loose Charlie a heavy casualty. But you, Dean isn’t sure he’d come back from the dark path he’d follow for vengeance.

Soft sad smile turns your lips barely upward, “Not gonna happen I have my knight in shining Impala to keep me safe.”

“I couldn’t keep Charlie safe how can I…”

Shaking your head, finger placed over his kissable lips, “You’ve given me a million reasons already Dean Winchester and I don’t believe a single one of them.” Resting your foreheads together a moment, tenderness skating across your veins for the man beside you, “You might not believe it but your a good man.”

Pie filled plate slides across scared formica table top, metal fork clattering against the ceramic pushed in front. “More coffee,” sweet feminine voice floats from beside you.

Nodding, “Please, sugar and cream too.” Giving her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes feeling Dean stir beside you.

“Black like my soul you know that sweetheart,” slightly chapped lips brush your cheek. A simple thank you for this act of kindness he feels undeserving of. If he hadn’t already been head over heels in love with you this sweet gesture would’ve sealed the deal.

Breathless gasp parts your lips as you turn finding Dean closer almost invading your space. Leather, motor oil and Irish Spring tickle your nose, eyes locking with those agony drenched obits, making another gasp exist your lungs. Heartache rocketing through your body, colliding with anger directed at the Styne’s.

“Eat your pie Winchester we’ll talk about that soul of yours later after dealing with the Styne’s.”

Heart freezing at the mention of the murdering family, “No,” rougher than intended, Dean grabs your chin twisting your face towards his. Rage hot and potent flaring through those beautiful greens. “No you will stay with Sam I’ll deal with them myself…”

“Dean you can’t be serious…” grabbing his wrist, pleading in your eyes for him to listen. Loosing Charlie splintered your heart, counting her as the sister you’ve never had. Her blood demanding revenge for the grievous act. But loosing Dean would kill you, knowing you never would come back from that agony.

“I am, deadly so. You try and sneak along I’ll toss that sexy ass outta Baby faster than you can pray to Castiel.”

Snorting, pulling your chin from his grasp, “You couldn’t lift me Winchester and you can’t stop me…” but the look he gives you does. Any farther flow of words halt in there bid to tumble out of your mouth.

“No I can’t,” callused palms cup your cheeks keeping you in place. Searching your eyes and making sure you understood, “I don’t want you to come with me Y/N. If there’s anytime to listen its now. I’ve lost one sister I didn’t want.” Bitting those words out to keep from speaking the others which threaten to pour from his being. “I can’t loose you,” resting your foreheads together again.

Nodding, trying to keep yourself from rubbing your cheek into his palm or worse press your lips against his. Lying to yourself isn’t something you normally do and you wouldn’t start now with the realization you were in love with your best friend and worried your going to loose him to the all consuming darkness.

You're giving me a million reasons to let you go

You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show

You're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

Downing the last of his long neck, drawing patterns over the hardwood table underneath with the condensation from the bottle. Eyes trained on that single slice of pie you’d bought him weeks ago.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you D,” mirth filled voice floats towards him before you reach his side in body.

Hand coming into view grabbing for the container to toss it out. But Dean’s quicker, “If you value your life, you’ll unhand my pie,” thick fingers circle your wrist pulling your plush body down beside him. “It’s not nice to steal a man’s pie woman,” keeping his tone light, playful and away from the looming fate he knows will visit upon his person once you figure out Will is the man you truly want. Deserving of your light, and laughter, the sweetness, of your beauty that Dean only hopes the other man will appreciate.

Gasping in mock outrage, “Who me?” Hand to heart trying to keep the laughter from your tone. “I would never deprive you of pie Deano. But I would that slice since I think it’s become a science experiment.”

Narrowing his eyes towards the offending sweet dessert, “It is not.” Poking twice before pulling the pie forward for a closer inspection. Musical laughter meeting his ears, smothering the smirk threatening to bloom over his lips. “Okay so maybe your right,” turning his pouting face towards you.

“Course I am,” giving him a wink then standing to toss the ruined sweets out. Pausing by the panty, you peek in unaware Dean’s watching you from his seat.

Teasing sway to your generous hips has his eyes tracking every movement. Bitting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at how temping you look. Thick thighs encased in blue denim jeans feet bare from wearing those steal toed Dr. Martins during hunts. Body stretching upwards, soft cotton baby blue tank top riding up to bare a silver of delicate skin to his eyes. Your fingers barely snag the sugar container’s edge, pulling it down to clasp against your ample chest.

Chastising himself for the erotic thoughts flipping through his mind on a single film reel. “What exactly are you doing sweetheart?” Carefully keeping his lower half away from your line of sight. Lest you find out the problem currently tenting his jeans, teeth gritting to stop himself from acting on all those thoughts.

“Never you mind Dean Winchester,” tossing over your shoulder, checking for vanilla extract, light syrup, and butter from the fridge. Last stop the freezer mentally trying to remember if you there's a pie shell left or would need to make one. Hoping for at least a single, since checking the flour stock and coming up almost empty. “Start a list for me please and put flour on it,” setting the three ingredients in your hands down. Turning back to open the metal door to peer into the freeze, swaying slighting to a song running through your head. A triumphant “Yes,” exists your lips, a little dance of excitement upon finding the last shell.

Damn near swallowing his tongue so entranced by your movements gulping different words back down to keep from making a total fool of himself. As he utters, “Not till I know exactly what your making over there Betty Crocker.”

“Resorting to blackmail now?” Brow arched, unconsciously licking your lips slowly. Unaware of Dean watching the path it takes across your pump bottom lip, tucking it between indenting teeth.

For distraction purposes, Dean pulls his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Bringing up the list app a suggestion to simplify things you gave him months back. Forcing himself to focus on the small screen in his hands instead of the woman currently dancing around the kitchen. Pulling bowls, pots and pans out, one chance glance has an inaudible groan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your plush ass. Bent over shifting through sheet pans knowing which you look for as arousal flares to life so potent Dean turns quickly hiding his reacting. Planting his face in the palms of his hands, elbows bent to catch the weight. Fingers digging into eye sockets to use the pain and banish the thoughts from reappearing.

Frowning at his actions you come over after putting the pan on the counter. Fingers running through his hair, scraping the scalp with short nails. Pleased smile at the groan you pull from his lips as he rubs his head into your palm like a little puppy. “Something wrong Dean?” Worry dancing through the cadence of your voice other hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Fine,” head popping up, forcing your fingers to slide out of his hair. Taking a chance to glance up into your worried eyes. Underserving of your soft touch searing his skin. An itch to run from our presence skitters across his veins. “I’m fine sweetheart just tired.”

Searching his face, those whiskey flecked green eyes so unlike the blue-greens of Will’s, catching something hiding in those deep depths he’s trying to hide. Never fooled by words, always inspecting his actions and those little tells partially concealed though you know them all too well. “You’re covering something up Winchester I’ll get it out of you one way or another,” patting his cheek and stepping away.

‘I don’t want you to go on that date,’ on the tip of his tongue poised to leave his lips he keeps smashed together burying those feelings to not ruin this chance you have at an apple pie life. The very thought tears his heart, rendering another hole in the punched out organ. Though it’s his own fault for giving you a million reasons to keep that boundary line in place. Tip toeing almost across a few times, but always toeing the line keeping himself in check. Head snapping around when something hard hits the back of his head, scowl in place though it’s more playful than menacing. “Did you just…” glancing towards the floor to find a lone pecan on the ground behind him. Head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed on your face, which is the total opposite of his holding a sweetly innocent look concealing the trouble he knows you’ll cause. “Seriously a pecan? That could’ve done damage Babe Ruth.”

Eyes rolling, snort issuing from your up turned lips, “I don’t know what you speak of Dean I’m just here making a pie minding my own business. Can’t help it if a pecan has it out for you.”

“Possessed it must be,” voice pitched in a poor imitation of Master Yoda, getting a boo hiss from your general direction. “Though something tells me a certain someone threw the poor helpless nut.”

Shrugging, face neutral a picture of indifference with hands on your wide hips ingredients spread out over the counter. “Stop calling yourself names Dean it’s not nice.” Bottom lip trapped for a second to keep from giggling at the way he’s looking towards you.

Enjoying this moment of normalcy you’ve managed to capture in these dark and dangerous times. Thoughts skittering towards Will, if he’s able to put up with the hunters life style? Former Marine, Will knows so little of what truly goes bump in the night making you worry he wouldn’t feel at ease. It’s the reason you’ve hesitated each time he’s asked you out. Not wanting to drag someone else into a life of blood and death. Persistence and patience paid off when you finally agreed on a dinner date for tomorrow night. One your actually looking forward to.

But then you glance towards Dean, seeing the smile grace those soft looking lips, shinning in his whiskey flecked green orbs for the first time in months and you hesitate. Would you want to leave this life for a man who wouldn’t understand you not fully anyway? Or stay and remain the best friend till a hunt takes one of you out? Could you truly leave your home with the Winchesters, with Dean?

His voice breaks through the your thoughts, ruthful chuckle echoing through the room, “Haha sweetheart stop trying to be John Candy it ain’t workin for ya,” bending to scoop up the tossed nut a memory filters through his mind. Opening a wound he thought long since closed over soaked in whiskey and women who’s names he’s forgotten. Shaking the thought away to ask, “You gonna chunk a nut at your boyfriend tomorrow night too? Or is that reserved for me?”

Not sure why he’s even asking or teasing you about it or the fact there’s a bite to the tone. He shouldn’t care about a simple date, yet the thought twists his gut smile slipping from his lips as he looks down at the pecan in hand. Unwillingly letting those images fill and play before his eyes.

If I had a highway, I would run for the hills

If you could find a dry way, I'd forever be still

But you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

December 2011

Run down two room shack a nicer way of putting it truly, you think while pulling up outside next to Baby’s sleek black side. Hands gripping the steer wheel till knuckles hurt and you can focus again through the haze of tears spilling down your cold cheeks. Still trying to grasp the fact Bobby Singer legendary hunter, go to lore man, and surrogate father, dead by a bullet from Dick Roman’s gun. Itching for vengeance you try to quell for another time when you can let all the anger out. For right now you knew he needed you more than any strategy planning or revenge thought.

Remembering Sam’s voice shaking, laced with pain, peppered with rage but above all coated in sadness you could hear over the phone lines. Never hesitating to drop the case — for now — breaking speed limit in the need to reunite with your boys. You’d do anything for family even those who weren’t by blood. Learning a long time ago that family doesn’t end with the DNA flowing through your veins.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind and existing the car only to lean back in and grab the bags from the passenger side. Standing to full height to peer over the top locking eyes with those anger clouded greens. “No I didn’t bring you anything Winchester so don’t bother asking.” Trying to lighten the situation with poorly used humor.

Words fail to leave thinned lips as you pass by, hand holding the creaking barely held together door open for you. Following behind his voice scratchy from no use, “Sam call you?”

“Of course silly why wouldn’t he?” Placing the bags on what could pass for a pile of rubble instead of an island countertop. Turning to face him cataloging each feature, the stone set of his jaw, shoulders tight with tension, eyes those beautiful normally vibrate whiskey flecked greens mute with anguish he tries to hide.

Shrugging, shoulders dropping forward with no will to keep them up, “He shouldn’t have your needed else where Y/N.”

“Bullshit Winchester,” moving with purpose to stand in his personal space. “Bobby was just as much a father to me as to you. There’s no other place I’d rather be than here, for a different reason yes but I’m not leaving so suck it up buttercup.”

Catching the flash of anger tinging the deep greens whether directed at you or himself you’re not sure. “We already salted and burned his body, there’s no reason for you to stay.” Turning away from your softening eyes knowing your going to try and reason with him. Make him see he’s not responsible for what happened.

“I know,” two simple words make him pause and turn back. “I didn’t come to say goodbye to Bobby, I came for you.” Taking one step closer arms wrapping around his slumped shoulders bringing him into the shelter of your embrace. Steady hands running the length of his stiff back, imparting your warm, trying to give comfort knowing he’s unaccepting of such sympathies.

Brows furrowing, frown tipping his lips downward, fists clinching at his sides, Dean tries to keep himself from giving into the solace he so easily could find in your embrace. Warmth sinking into his skin through the layers of clothing he wears, tingling his skin, quickening his pulse.“Why?”

“You need me, your not listening to Sam or Castiel talking about going off to track Roman down yourself,” spitting the Leviathan’s name out like chewed to long gum. Head resting against his strong chest feeling the slightly erratic beat of his heart against your ear.

Back stiffening, “I don’t need you to tell me what to do Y/N I can make that decision on my own.” Low growl rattling through his chest as he pulls from your arms and steps from the warmth evaporating from his body. “You should leave.”

“And get yourself killed?” Hands slamming to your wide hips glaring daggers at your best friend. “What happened wasn’t your fault Dean. Any one of us could’ve taken that bullet, Bobby knew the risks of the mission, accepted them and died…” swallowing the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. “A hero,” ignoring his last words, reaching out to try and take his hand only to have him pull away like you’ve burned him.

“Don’t, don’t try to reason this with me I know better,” turning his back to head for the wall covered in papers trying to figure out just what Dick Roman’s up too.

Shaking your head knowing he’s hurting but not wanting to voice those feelings, to make him appear weak. With a sigh leaving your frowning lips you move silently beside him looking over the wall of weird trying to piece together how everything connects. Brushing your hand against his, pinkie trailing to catch what you think is his forefinger. Wrapping the little finger tightly around his you lean over, “I’m right here when you’re ready Dean, I’m not leaving nor letting go.”

“You should,” not bothering to turn and face you. Memories of Lisa and Ben filter through his thoughts along with Bobby, his father and what he can remember of his mother. “I’m poison and get everyone around me killed.” He doesn’t want to add you to the growing list. Rather wanting you to leave and find a different path for your life.

Tugging on his finger to wrap the middle and forefinger with your ring and pinkie fingers, “Then Sam and I are the antidote to your poison.” Giving a soft sad smile to his side profile, wrapping him up into your arms. Resting your head on his shoulder, voice a gentle whisper of breath upon his cheek and neck,“Those reasons keep tallying up Winchester we’ll hit a million before long.”

Reminding you both of a long ago discussion between the two of you in Bobby’s junk yard while still teenagers. Before angels and demons, vampires thought long dead and ancient Leviathan brought back from the pit of purgatory. When you made the packed to never fall for each other and always remain best friends. To never let go no matter how dire the situation, you’d have each other’s back.

Evaporating memories of long ago, you speak softly still resting your head on his shoulder. “You work on this mosaic of papers you have plastered over the walls. I have a pie to bake,” not giving it much thought you quickly press a kiss to his stubbled cheek then turn to head back towards the passable kitchen area.

Tingles dance over his skin for longer than he wishes, wanting to suppress those feelings bubbling up to try and consume him. Thinking he could bury them under the mounting pain and self hated. Yet, the warmth of your arms, soft press of your lips, your words register and sink into his brain Dean turns to watch you work unable stop a few of those feelings from dancing around his heart. Single thought shocking him in its stark contradiction to his current state of mind, Dean Winchester self proclaimed ladies man has fallen in love with his best friend. A sucker punch to the gut making him gasp and reel that silent declaration in. Stuffing it under the right full emotions of anger and pain. Letting them tap dance through his veins instead, something much safer for the both of them. Something he could understand and deal with.

I bow down to pray

I try to make the worst seem better

Lord, show me the way

To cut through all his worn out leather

I've got a hundred million reasons to walk away

But, baby, I just need one good one to stay

Head stuck in a cycle, I look off and I stare

It's like that I've stopped breathing, but completely aware

'Cause you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

“He’s not my boyfriend yet Dean,” eyes rolling as you turn to melt the butter in a small sauce pan. Though there is a part of you wishing he could one day fill the role unless a single good reason can change your mind comes your way.

“But you want him too?” Words muttered through presses together teeth. Hating the fact he’s letting something so trivial effect him in such a way. You’ve had other boyfriends, one night stands he’s had to sit through yet this one feels different. As if he could truly loose you this time and those thoughts scare the shit outta him the most. Because yes you’re his best friend for longer than he can remember but above that you’re the woman who gets him, argues with him, sets his ass straight when he’s being stupid and above all or so he hopes, loves him warts and all.

Hands pause at his question looking into the melting golden liquid bubbling silently remembering to flick the tiny knob and turn the heat off. While your head screams to say yes but it’s a little small voice beating quickly beneath your ribcage making you pause. Clearing your throat to gather what thoughts you could from their scattered places. You’ve always spoke with honesty to Dean, unless circumstances dictated other wise, and you weren’t about to change now. Through you wouldn’t turn to face him when you did wanting to keep from seeing his eyes. Finding the reason for his questions in those green depths you’ve fallen for though never spoken the feelings. “Yes, he could…” swallowing to coat your dry throat to spit out the words rotting your stomach. “I could have a chance at happiness with Will, Dean. Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t want to loose you,” ‘Because I love you,’ on the tip of his tongue to tell you, give voice and life to his true feelings. Wanting you to stay and forget about those million other reasons he’s let slip between the cracks in your relationship.

Frozen in place, hands gripping the countertop beside the stove. “You wouldn’t loose me Dean I’d still go on hunts with you, I’d stick around,” lies tasting bitter on your tongue, heart beating triple time wondering if he’ll pick up on the dishonesty your speaking. Always feeling he’d never see you as anything other than his best friend. Never the type of woman to draw his attention, too soft and plush in places most men wouldn’t want and you didn’t pine for a man who’s given you a million reasons to walk away. So you shoved those feelings, the love you held back trying to make it work with other men. To find the one who’d surpass Dean destroying your feelings for the green eyed hunter, giving you the one reason to stay and belong. So why now did he have to put doubts in your mind? Why ask these questions when in years past he’d brush other men away as nothing more than a passing fancy?

Silently Dean stands slowly making his way towards you, taking in the ridged stance of your plush form. Hands itch to wrap around your thick waist and haul you against his chest. Pausing right beside you, brushing his fingers against yours too hook what he thinks is your forefinger with his pinkie. “You and I both know things wouldn’t stay the same between us sweetheart. He’d find a way to take you away from me,” praying you won’t pull away Dean turns to stare at your profile. Taking in the beauty he’s catalogued thousands of times, the curve of your lips when you smile, slope of your nose, eyes bright with laughter or spiting fire when angry usually at him. Softness of your cheeks under his palms the times he’s actually got to cup and caress the skin.

“We’ll remain best friends Dean that’ll never change,” gathering the courage to turn and look into his eyes. Catching the sadness coating those beloved greens making your heart ache. Tongue slipping out to tug back your bottom lip between your teeth indented them to keep from asking the question your heart demands.

Of its own accord Dean’s free hand comes up to brush over your cheek, cupping the soft skin, fingers spread from apple to jaw wanting so badly to draw you in and kiss those tempting lips. “I want you happy Y/N and if it’s possible out of this life, been wanting that for you since Bobby,” sliding his hand to your chin to pinch the end with his thumb and forefinger tipping your face up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll miss you sweetheart.”

Eyes lock with stormy greens after he pulls back, soft gasp parting your lips at the simple touch, words sounding like a goodbye instead of their usual see ya later. Grappling for words to say, questions to ask, trying to figure out what’s going on, and why now. But he’s gone before your brain can catch up with your mouth, and your turning to rush after, seeing his back disappear around the corner.

Feet finally responding to command as you quickly follow stopping at the doorway, “Give me one good reason.” Praying he’ll listen and stop, hoping it’s not too late. “Stop giving me all these reasons to leave.”

Back ridged but his mind a flurry of thoughts and answers, more questions than he could shake a stick at. Only one reason comes to mind, “Good reason to what?”

Traveling the short distance to take his hand intertwining your fingers with his, needing him to turn around and look at you. Needing the connection while stating, “Give me a good reason to stay Dean to not go tomorrow night.”

“I can’t,” partly wanting to flinch from your touch, to tug his hand free, and partly wanting to sink into your familiar embrace. Soak in the peace he always finds in your arms, to bath in your warmth and possibly bask in your love. But Dean wouldn’t be selfish he’d let you go even if it meant killing his own heart and soul.

The urge to punch him grows strong but your refrain from using violence, “Why not? Too scared? Or you just don’t care?”

The warmth of your hand disappears from searing into his palm, tingling those long nimble fingers, his eyes close knowing you’re walking away because of that millionth reason. Till the first brush of soft fingers tender in there touch upon his cheek. He gives in to the urge and rubs his slightly stubbled cheek into your palm. “If that’s you Sam, I’m gonna kick your ass dude,” ignoring your questions in favor of basking in your touch instead. Hearing the soft giggle from your lips brings a smile to his own. Eyes finally opening too stare into yours, almost doing a doubt take at what he sees in those beloved depths. “I don’t deserve you Y/N.”

“Stop giving me a million reasons Dean and give me the one that’ll make me stay,” imploring him with your touch, fingers tracing over his cheeks and jaw. Tracing his plush bottom lip with the pad of your thumb, “I just need one good reason.”

He’d find the situation funny if it’s anyone else standing in front asking the same question. Even Sam would get a chuckle from his lips, but you, his breath freezes, heart thumping wildly in equal measures of terror and excitement. The very thoughts running unrestrained in his mind scare the shit out of him, but only one truly feels right. Snaking an arm around your thick waist pulling you against his strong chest, fitting like missing puzzle pieces. His free hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I love you.”

Tears slip from their ducts barely held back till those three simple words spill from his mouth jump starting your heart and sending your emotions swirling. Warm palms cradle your wet cheeks, gun callused thumbs brush hot tears away, you spy the worry and fear your non response sparks. “Do you mean it?” Wanting clarification before handing your heart over to the very man who’s held it for so long.

Knowing what your asking Dean stops waiting and lowers his mouth to yours. That first touch of lips electricity shoots through you veins. Body responding quicker with arms going around his neck to pull him firmly against you not a wisp of space between your bodies. Fingers tangling in the short hairs at the back of his head while you slot your lips against his. Demanding and deep, a tangled dance of tongues. Clashing of teeth, a melding mouths and finding the right angles to draw those delicious moans from each of you. Till air becomes necessary and you break apart panting, “That answer your question sweetheart?”

“No,” smirking when his eyes narrow, “I wanna hear it again.”

No hesitation in speaking those three words, “I love you.” Groaning when your lips smash back to his. Stealing breath from his lungs and a moan from his chest, Dean walks you backward till your pressed against the cool tile wall. Lower pelvis holding your soft body in place so his hands can dance over your cotton covered plush form. Palm’s flat against your thick waist, slowly dragging them around and down to cup your generous ass. Squeezing firmly and making you gasp.

Using the opening as a way to work his tongue back into your mouth, delving in for another taste of your sweetness. Low groan existing when rearranging his mouth to fit differently and snag a gulp of air. Stubble abrading your chin in the most spectacular of ways. Pooling heat low in your belly and making your mind wander in other more salacious directions. Brought back from teetering on the deliciously desirable edge by a sharp bite, his teeth nabbing your bottom lip to tug, letting go with a wet pop. Breath fanning out over your heated cheeks. Eyes once closed now open and locked with yours a pleading undertone to the desire darkened greens.

Knowing what he wants to hear and unable to wait along, “I love you too Dean.” Heart bursting with unrestrained joy flooding your system and making you love drunk.

“Thank fucking God,” groaning, resting your foreheads together still trying to reign in the wild thumping of his heart. Your admission only serves to make the largest muscle spasm quicker. All his pent up emotions, desires and needs flowing to the surface, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from rushing into something too fast. Remembering it’s still fresh and new between the two of you a different path to the relationship already established in friendship.

Giggling softly, you cup both his cheeks, thumbs brushing along his skin, three days worth of stubble abrading your palms. “So,” teasing smirk pulling at your lips, “I better call Will huh?”

“For?” Trying to keep the bitter growl from escaping and giving away his feelings on the sore subject. Tugging your soft body back in place from your wiggles to side free, not ready to let you go just yet.

Sliding one hand down his chest to rest where you know his anti-possession tattoo resides. Tracing the edges with the tip of your finger over the black t-shirt he’s wearing, locking eyes with his, “Seems I’m a taken woman. Wouldn’t want to lead the poor guy on now would I?” Watching how those whiskey flecked greens darken, pushing his lower body deeper into your plush form. Barely heard as you try not to give away the whimper of need his body produces in your own, with his pressed so tightly. Cool concrete keeping you body temp from over heating for the moment.

“No,” clearing his throat leaning in to draw his nose over your jawline. Touring towards your ear, catching the lobe between his front teeth to tug. Low desire filled growl leaving his lips, followed by, “Tomorrow is another day sweetheart and right now you’ve got better things to do.”

Heading tipping over granting access to the parts of your neck he wants, trying to keep the shiver from rolling over your body. Heat flooding your veins sparking a need you’ve never felt with any of the other men you’d previously had relations with. “What,” licking your parched lips, “what better things Dean?” Praying it’s the same idea rolling around your head for the longest time.

Pausing in his mapping of your neck and shoulder with his lips, Dean raises his head to spear you with a heated look. “Me for starters sweetheart, that is of course…” uneasiness has him trailing off the first time in his life. The bitter taste of uncertainty coating his thoughts for a fraction of a second before your lips land back on his.

Teasingly soft presses, little ghost touches of your tongue, playfully dotting his cheeks, chin and forehead with your lips before brushing close to his ear. “Hey Dean,” smiling against his skin, tenderly pressing your lips just south of his ear. Nibbling the found patch of sensitive skin behind committing the spot to memory for later. Breath puffing out quicker feeling him shiver, knowing what the next words would invoke in Dean and his love for the movie. “You big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever,” sultry tone added to the cadence.

His eyes close for a moment, heart swelling as you recite the words to one of his favorite movies. Marveling at the fact you’ve remembered the lines perfectly and Dean falls deeper in love with you if that’s possible.

The gentle caresses of your lips against his skin setting fire to his nerve endings, room in his jeans becoming a hot commodity as his shaft thickens and throbs. Finding the distraction almost too much while trying to recall the next line. Teasing giggles reach his ears that he replies to with a deep chuckle. Words coming back to him, “Show me the way home, honey.”

Reaching down to tug one hand from your ass, chuckling with a shake of your head when it doesn’t budge but squeezes the generous globe. Notching himself tighter into your body, smirk appearing as your eyes widen, gasp issuing from parted lips. Bitting the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling before the words can escape. “Is that a pickle in your pocket or you just happy to see me?”

“Oh sweetheart it’s a great big dill I can show ya,” flashing a smirk, both of you trying hard not to laugh.

“Preferably,” deep voice tinged with slight offense but liberally coated in amusement. “In your own room so the both of you aren’t bare ass naked in the hallway bumping like bunnies,” having rounded the corner towards the kitchen and catching the intimate embrace. “A vision I don’t want branded into my skull thank you very much,” Sam paused arms crossed in annoyance. Golden dotted green eyes dancing with mirth, catching the playfully scandalous expression cross your features. Glancing towards Dean who buries his face in your neck getting a deep chuckle from his brother.

Try as you might to keep from busting out laughing they just rolled out of your mouth as your eyes lock with Sam’s. Acting stoic but the smile tugging at his lips and the teasing flash through his eyes speak a different story. Only thing holding you up is Dean’s body still pressed heavily against your. The man in question glancing up first to look at you then over his shoulder towards Sam. “Don’t even start Sammy,” grumbling good-naturedly giving him a middle finger salute and the opening you need to slip from between his hard body and the wall. Teasing growl rumbling through his chest at the loss of your warmth. Dean reaches out to snag your arm but you manage to dance out of his reach, giggles echoing off the walls trailing behind your disappearing form.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Dean but Cas owes me fifty bucks,” patent Sam Winchester smirk sliding over his lips. Brow raised at his scoff, “Can’t believe I had a betting pot going?”

Watching you run off happy grin tipping his mouth upward, he looks back at Sam grin still in place. “Just can’t believe it’s with Cas. Rowena maybe, Jody, Claire, Alex and Donna fuck yes but Cas,” incredulous look stealing over his features for a few moments.

“Who say’s the bet’s not bigger than you think,” broad shoulders shrugging same smirk in place, Sam enters the kitchen on that note leaving Dean to stare wide eyed after his baby brother. “Matter of time, always just a matter of time,” laughter tinged voice exists the kitchen, unseen shake of his head at the mess left behind.

Stock still for a fraction of a second till soft giggles echo quietly down the hall, grin turning into full blown smile. Need rushing back through his veins in remembrance of your position just a few short moments ago. Low curse existing his mouth, Dean turns racing off to find which room you’re hiding in.

Nerves tingled through your body, worry interrupting thoughts/memories of short minutes ago. Hard press of his body against yours, warm moist breath fanning out over your skin sending tingles of a different kind to skitter across your veins. But now standing in Dean’s room trying to figure out where to lay or stand that would invoke images of sensuality. You look down at your bare feet toes wiggling against cold concrete. Up wards to thick jeans clad thighs, a baby blue tank top covering your torso, self consciousness went out the window decades ago. After the first serious injuries you suffered at the hands of a vengeful spirit had you damn near stripped naked in front of Dean. Confidence in face of adversity knowing he’s the only one for miles around to patch you up.

Now though is different, same confidence but wishing for sexier clothing something to entice and tease. Small snort issues from the depths of your body knowing damn well you had nothing of the sort in your possession. Flannels, tank tops, t-shirts and jeans hunter’s required staples along with the functional under garments you groan at remembering are mismatched at the present.

“Beautiful even in those rumpled clothing,” deep voice breaking through thoughts and making a squeak sound as you quickly turn to face the lazily leaning against the door jam hunter. Arms crossed over muscular chest, biceps straining the black t-shirt’s sleeves, “I meant what I said before Sammy interrupted us.”

Tugging your bottom lip back under indented top teeth turning to face him fully, “Which part?” Barely keeping the mirth from bubbling over, “That I should show you the way home or you have a big dill?” Easy going banter calming your nerves even the part about feeling ill-prepared clothing wise.

Tender infused whiskey fleck green eyes turn molten with each sweep of your body. “I love you,” words escape as eyes stay locked, Dean pushing away from the doorway. Booted foot catching the hardwood door and slamming it shut behind him. Stocking towards you as a lion would his prey, licking parched lips wanting to devour you. Hands fisting at his side though to keep from reaching out and doing just that incase it’s something your not ready for.

His breath froze upon seeing you walking around his room, something akin to relief floods his veins along with a sense of rightness. Sure you’ve come in hundreds of times to wake him from a nightmare or mornings, to barrow music and to talk. Yet, this time feels different giving your relationship changed moments ago. Catching the indecision clearly written in those beloved eyes that don’t focus on one place too long. For a moment Dean wishes he could read your thoughts but then having hunted and lived together for decades he picked up the situation and cues without having to know your thoughts.

Pleased hum breaks Dean from the wondering trail his thoughts took him on to spy the sweet smile gracing your lips. Hands positioned on your hips one cocked to the side as you stand there waiting expectedly. Restraining himself, Dean opens his palms to bring them up and cup your cheeks dragging you against him. Lips meeting in the tenderest of kisses that he keeps in place while speaking, “You want this, want me?”

Recognizing his vulnerability and what he’s asking with those simple words, arms wrap around his back fisting the shirt tightly to press the two of you together. Love saturated eyes burn into those greens you could drown in, “That’s my question Winchester stop stealing my lines.” Flattening one palm to slide up and into his hair. Pressing another kiss to his soft lips you’ve only imaged kissing till now. The reality so much better than any fantasy you ever came up with.

“Calling me a thief now sweetheart?” Using jokes to cover the fact he’s searching for the right words. Flustered and frustration slither through his veins in a combination Dean’s not accustom, words stammering of unintelligible nature tumble from his mouth. The feel of your blunt nails sending pleasurable shivers down his spine.

Nodding, craning your neck back a few inches but keeping your eyes locked, “You stole my lines and my heart Dean so yes that would make you a thief.” Hand sliding over his back now and settling into the back pocket of his jeans, “I also meant what I said back there.” Catching the cocked brow you elaborate, “Take me to bed Dean I’m tired of waiting, I want to know how it feels to have you inside me.”

Soft groan issues from parted lips. Wanting to act on your words so damn badly his body vibrates with barely contained desire. Forehead coming to rest against yours, strong hands sliding too loosely wrap around and caress your neck. “You know I’m not great at relationships. I could seriously fuck things up.”

“I know but then so could I,” any doubts or insecurities evaporating into the ether with every look.

Callused fingers brush over your bare shoulders sending sensual shivers cascading down your body. Rubbing your thighs together for added friction with the heated look Dean’s fixing you with. Boosting your confidence to step back his hands drop to the side as you own pinch at the hem of your tank top. Slowly pulling it from your body, letting it drop with a barely heard whisper.

“Fucking hell sweetheart,” resolve snapping, reaching for your hips and tugging you back against him harder than intended. Lips sealing quickly to swallow the gasp existed parted lips Dean takes advantage of and slips his tongue inside the warm cavern of your mouth.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, it’s all teeth and tongues, fighting desperately for dominance. Pulling groans from the depths of Dean’s soul as he pulls whimpers and moans from your own. Till air becomes needed though it doesn’t stop your mouth from trailing a hot path across his stubbled jaw. Nibbling towards that little patch behind his ear to flick the tip of your tongue against. Smirking at the shutter rolling through his body, fingers dancing a rhythm over his shirt covered torso. Hem reached you tug twice to which he nods reaching behind him grasping and pulling the garment off to join yours.

Hands, palms flat immediately going to ghost over his rippling tummy. Muscle covered soften causing all moisture to pool south, clit throbbing almost painfully. Sure you’ve seen him bare chested before this time it’s different. For pleasure instead of patching him up. Drawing desired groans rather than pain filled. “I know Sam would abject but I so wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around shirtless.”

Full belly chuckle leaves Dean’s lips, “Sweetheart don’t talk about other men right now especially not my brother.” Possessive hands landing on your naked plush waist, fingers spanning the distance and gripping the flesh in his palm. Dreams having nothing on the real woman in his palms.

“Just stating facts sir nothing more,” trailing your fingers over the slightly hair roughen skin. Brushing pebbled nipples from the cool air and your proximity. Reserving a gasp when you lean forward to lap with the tip of our tongue and nip at the peaked point. Glancing to lock eyes as you switch and give the same attention to its twin giving the same attention getting a hiss from your actions. Dragging you lips upward to trace his tattoo with kisses.

Molten green eyes drinking in the sight of your lips on his skin, shooting desire straight to his cock. Throbbing need demanding attention no matter how good your soft lips feel against his body. “Baby girl,” groaning at the nip you place, eyes close to compose himself. Flying open as air cool brushes his skin inside of the shared heat of both your bodies. Mesmerized by the way you reach back to unclasp your bra, pushing your lushes breasts out teasing his vision, salivating for a taste of your skin.

He steps forward crowding into your space backing you into the bed till the back of your calves hit the edge. Wrapping his arms around your plush form to brush hands away and do the task himself. Finger tips skimming the edges of both straps till reaching the top at your shoulders and drawing them down. Keeping his eyes locked with yours while pulling the garment from your pliant body tossing it behind him. Eyes flicking down on a groan, licking his dry lips at the beauty displayed for his ravenous gaze.

“Lay down for me sweetheart,” meeting your lust blown orbs with his own. “I wanna see you in my bed,” biting off a whimper when you drop onto the edge. Bountiful breasts bouncing teasingly as he watches you slide backwards towards the head board. Hands going to the button of your jeans, low growl pausing your nimble fingers. “That’s for me to do baby girl, just,” swallowing harshly as he looks you over. Partially naked spread out over his bed picture perfect memory for those times when the darkness tries to steal this happiness. “Give me a moment to drink you in.” Unable to decide where to look first, “So fucking gorgeous.” Toeing off his boots, hands going to his own jeans your shaking head pausing the movements.

“I get the same pleasure,” licking your lips slowly while raising up on your elbows. Beckoning him with two crooked fingers, hand resting with the palms up beside your plush body, “Get up here before I get impatience and take matters into my own hands.”

Declaration making him pause a moment low growl rumbling from deep with in his chest. As desire blown green meet yours, smirk gracing his handsome features. One knee comes to rest on the mattress Dean leans forward keeping eyes locked while pressing a kiss to your ankle. Grinning, feeling the quiver that runs through your body. “You wouldn’t dare sweetheart,” adding his other knee to spread your legs and slowly fit his body between.

“Shall we make a bet Winchester?” Using your free foot to brushing the nearest thigh with the flat. Sliding towards the very noticeable bulge busting the seams of his jeans, toes teasing the thick ridge before pressing the flat of your foot against him. Rubbing the length slowly pleased when a growl echos the room.

Grabbing that foot tickling the pad enjoying the way you squirm and giggle. Taking the opportunity to move fully between your legs. “About that bet hum,” fingertips drawing an invisible path of fire down the middle your body. Bracing then both arms on either side of your shoulders hovering over you, warm breath fanning out over your cheek he nuzzles with stubbled chin. Pulling a whimper from your gasping lips.

Of there own accord, your hands slide up the strength of his arms and biceps to clasping fingers together around the back of his neck. Left leg draped over his waist to pull him against your pelvis, breathless moan parting your lips at the contact of his hard length pressing into your dripping center. “I don’t want slow or gentle Dean,” head tipping back to give access to his questing lips that find your wildly thumping pulse, sucking a mark into the soft skin. “We have all night for that I just…” words caught upon seeing whiskey flecked green eyes dilated almost pitch with desire. Cheshire Cat grin tugging kiss swollen lips upward.

“Just what sweetheart?” Humming, brushing your lips together before returning to his last spot. One hand dragging over your soft body cupping the generous globe massaging gently feeling the nipple peak against his palm. Teasingly circling the stiff nub with the tip of his index finger before giving a sharp pinch and making you gasp out. Back arching at the pleasurable pain skittering across your veins.

Grasping what’s left of your mind to try and form coherent words, body responding instead pressing your chest into his large hand. Nails score down his back, one completing the journey to give his ass a tight squeeze. As the other detours to between your intimately pressed body. Happy to find enough space to slot your palm against his erection, cupping his throbbing length and giving short little strokes. Smile blooming with a breathless groan against your collarbone where Dean’s forehead currently rests. Nimble fingers pop the small metal disk, pulling the zipper tab down to slip the hand inside. Warmth enveloping palm feeling him twitch has you slowly licking your lips at the mire thought of getting to taste him.

“You’re killing me Y/N,” rutting his hips into your hand, mouth coming back to claim yours in a punishingly bruising kill. Tangling your tongues together, nipping a little harder on your bottom lip than meaning to but the accompanying moan flows straight to his cock. Making him twitch against your palm that has slowed with the distraction of the kiss.

Breaking for air, panting while trying to form and speak the right words, “We’re both a little over dressed Dean.” Pulling your hand from the tight confines of his jeans, using the one at his ass to help pull them and his boxers down only stopping when you couldn’t reach anything passed his knees. Sigh of relief exists his parted lips making you giggle and press a kiss to his chin. “Feel better?” Bottom lip trapped and nibbled on as your fingers brush his length. Finding your fingers barely wrap around the girth while to stroke, palm sliding over precum leaking head. Hips thrust forward at the sensations tingling down his back gathering low in his belly.

“Now who’s over dressed?” Mumbling the words against your skin. Dean regretfully brushes your hand aside grinning at the annoyed huff that leaves your lips. “Ah sweetheart put that sexy pout away you’ll get a chance to taste me soon enough. Cause if you keep using that soft hand on my cock I’ll cum faster than I want.”

His words presenting so many thoughts to run through your mind only cut off when wet warm heat engulfs your right nipple. Tongue flicking quickly over taut peak, blunt teeth nipping then soothing over with the tip of his tongue. Switching to the twin leaving both sloppy wet and tight, gleaming in the low light of his room. Worshipping at the temple of your body with kisses pressed into your tummy, running scared callused hands over your skin in silent reverence. Eyes taking in very inch Dean sits back on his knees between your parted legs. Tracing his knuckles along the seam of your jeans covered cunt, making you jolt against him.

Pausing to strip your jeans and panties from your body, tossing them and kicking his own off to land somewhere on the floor. Raising up on elbows to finally get a chance to look at him in all his naked glory. Tracing each divot of scars over a broad chest, passing over the middle to admire thick bowed legs spread wide. Lips licked slowly upon landing on his ridge cock, slightly curved and resting against his lower belly. Palm itching for a touch, mouth watering for that taste. “You’re beautiful Dean,” words whispered so low your unsure if he’s really heard them.

Heat blooms over his cheeks at your admission, looking your fill of his adonis body. Dean returns the admiration. Tracing the features of your beloved face, staring a little too long at your heaving breasts, soft tummy he wants to nibble on at some point. Thick thighs he can’t wait to have wrapped around his waist once he’s buried deep inside your wet heat. The very though has his eyes dropping between your parted legs, glistening folds beckoning him forward. Caught in that tempting trance, Dean slides back between your legs. Brushing his lips just above your mound and receiving a whimper from you. Locking eyes, “I think you got that backwards sweetheart, it’s you who’s beautiful.” Dipping to run the thick flat of his tongue through your folds, humming at the tangy sweetness exploding over his taste buds.

Hips cantering against his mouth, your own letting a deep moan free as one hand slides down to card through his short brown locks. Tugging the strands getting a groan to vibrate against your cunt while his talented tongue dances through your soaked folds. Torturing your clit with ghosted touches, one arm wraps around our thigh spreading you open. As the other slips a finger inside your wet channel, finding you squeezing and tight, garnering a deep groan of arousal from the man between your lips.

“Dean,” voice wrecked and he’s barely touched you. When he doesn’t answer or budge from his sensual assault on your cunt. Lips having formed a perfect O around your clit, tongue flicking kitten licks to the tiny nerve filled nub. Pleased with he whimpers and whines that filter through his desire filled mind.

Resulting in you tugging on his hair harder, back arching as a small shock rocks through your body, tingling your belly when he bites carefully on your clit. “Dean please,” eyes rolling back into your head at the added second finger. Crooked and pressing into the little spongy spot you’ve never had anyone touch. Ripping a half scream from the hidden depths of your soul.

Smug smirk tugging over slick wet lips, stubbled chin coming to rest just above your mound. Watching as you heave a breath, breasts catching his eyes for a moment till you tug again. Fingers anything but still as they thrust and scissor you open, working you carefully to fit his slightly above average length not wanting to hurt you. “Yes sweetheart?” Licking his lips from your slick.

Free hand coming up to cover your heated face, “Don’t sound so smug,” gasping the last word when his thumb brushes over your clit making you jump and wither. Heat spreading from that special spot in your belly, where the tight coil starts to wind higher. Thick thighs tremble with each sensation Dean draws out of you. “Need you, please, please.”

Caressing your quivering walls with the gun callused pads of his fingers, massaging your clit as you plead. Breath chocked out on another moan, chest heavy, heat coating your skin as you wither under him. “Ah but I can’t help myself sweetheart you don’t know what seeing you like this does to me.”

Gathering what little strength you have in your limbs to reach down and cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the skin under his eyes. “Why don’t you get up here and show me Dean?” Voice wreaked yet a tender undertone rides through the cadence.

Pressing a single kiss to the pulsing little clit, giving once last flick making your squirm and Dean to chuckle. Slowly pulling his fingers out, stroking twice more your hips chasing the indescribable ecstasy winding its way through your veins. Only to have the tingles dance slower, the coil start to unwind as frustrated huff leaving your gasping lips.

Taking advantage to plunder your mouth, greedy for a sample of the wet cavern and a tongue tango that draws out a sharp moan of need. Especially tasting your tangy sweetness from his lips, sucking the bottom between your teeth to nibble. While reaching blindly over to the nightstand, damn near yanking the whole draw on the ground in his haste. “Give me a sec woman,” huffing out he rolls slightly off you. The noise drawing a giggle out causing him too stiffen, glancing back with a playful glare to refocus on finding his prize.

Using the opportunity to nose the thick column of his neck, taking in the scent of whiskey, leather and motor oil, peppered now with sex and sweat. Addicting and unable to help yourself from sink your teeth into his skin gently but hard enough to leave a small soon to purple mark. Soothing over with the flat of your tongue catching sight of the pause your actions caused. The aroused moan that leaves his lips, head resting on the bed to try and gather himself from your onslaught.

“Something wrong Dean?” Nipping just below his jaw, tracing your fingers along his side. Index finger swirling through the spares, crisp hairs leading a path to what you’ve craved to have inside you for a long time. Nimble fingers surround the base forming a perfect circle that can’t close but tightens. Stroking his length teasingly slow. In return receiving a warning growl — the sound devastating your senses making you throb — from the man currently fishing for a condom and growing frustrated when his fingers come up empty. “Shall I stop my love? Am I distracting you?” Whispered words breathed into his ear, lips kissing the shell. Knowing damn well just how tormenting you are to his senes and body. If his twitching cock your hand currently wrapping around stroking and the shallow breaths are any indication.

“Ha,” triumphant shout of accomplishment, Dean rolls back over you pressing bodies together and into the mattress. “Now where were we?” Flashing that teasing smirk with a hard rutting of his hips against your dripping core and tight fisted hand.

“What to you so long stud?” Biting back the giggles when he fixes you with a scowl.

Breath hissing out through clinched teeth when taking your hand off his cock, bringing those wickedly wonderful fingers to his lips and sucking on each one with a short nibble. Placing the open condom pack in your palm, “Do the honors sweetheart.”

Curling your fingers around the little foil packet, pressing your other hand into the back of his neck drawing Dean in for a tender kiss. Slow meld of your lips, light sips of your warm mouths. Tenderly tugging his bottom lip, to slide your tongue over the bruised skin and into his mouth. Licking and touring the heated cavern, seeking out ways to make his moan and grunt. A moment of forgetfulness while mapping his tonsils and sucking on his tongue, till you break for air. Chasing his mouth for more kisses only to receive a chuckle instead.

Eyes open to spear him with a heated look, foil packet crinkling in your hand a remind of your mission. Slipping fingers from his soft hair, to trace over his body, joining its partner between the two of your heaving bodies. Unlocking your eyes to glance down, hand wrapping back around his thick shaft to stroke twice getting a needy moan from the man above you. Before teasingly rolling the condom on paying special attention to the thick pulsing vein on the underside, mouth watering at the thoughts of getting to taste it later.

Dean grasps one of your hips to bring the leg around his waist, opening you up and feeling your soft skin under his palm. Sliding between your bodies to entwine his fingers with your, pumping his cock together. Different sounds, a hiss from Dean and a moan from you exists on shuttering breaths. Eyes reattach both blown with desire and coated in need, you notch the head of his cock at your entrance pressing the heel of your foot into the small of his back to urge him forward.

Teeth clamping to draw blood from your bottom lip but also to keep from screaming out in pleasure as he slowly sinks inside your quivering depths. Reaching up with his other hand to free your bruised lip, brushing the pad of his thumb over the glistening skin. “I wanna hear you sweetheart don’t hold back.”

“What about Sam?” Breath hitching, mouth hanging open on a moan that’s trapped on the edge of a scream when he bottoms out against you. Bodies flush, joined hands now resting above your head where Dean’s placed them.

Leaning in to press open mouth kisses to your lips and neck letting you adjust to his size, the exquisite stretch thumps through your veins the slight sting only heightening the pleasure. “Never mention his name while we’re in bed sweetheart,” snagging the lobe of your ear with his teeth. Pleased when you nod speechless, though not enough, “Words baby girl I wanna hear that prefect voice of yours.”

Swallowing trying to form words to answer, scoring your nails down his back an impatience mewling whimper leaves instead. Using the leg not wrapped around Dean’s waist as leverage to plant and push your hips up against him. Squeezing your walls tightly around his shaft drawing out a grunt from his lips. “Dean…” going to say more but he chooses that moment to pull out till just the crown rested inside your pulsing channel. “Just you…” hips snapping forward to fill you quickly stealing those words into a loud scream of ecstasy.

Starting a hard punishing rhythm, repeatedly waiting till your fixing to speak and either pulling out or trusting home. Always taking away what your going to say. Knowing your trapped between frustration and pleasure, Dean captures your mouth in another deep kiss. While his hips snap against yours, wrapping the other leg around his waist to angle you differently. Pressing your intertwined hands into the pillow beside your head and breaking the bruising kiss to gulp a lung full of air into both your burning lungs.

Feeling your walls start to quiver around his hammering cock, knowing by the pinched look on your countenance, the quivering of your thick thighs clutching at his trim waist. Heels pressing into the small of his back drawing him forward with quickened strokes that he’s shortened from the long deep thrusts. Notching your legs higher on his waist to press forward, curling his pelvis into your core, determined to make you cum first. Wanting to feel you soak his cock, see the looks of pleasure dance across your features.

Sliding his fingers through your soaked folds to find your pearl pulsing, pressing the pad of his thumb circling to make a gasp fly from your lips. Back arching, tingles no longer gentle but tap dancing a rhythm through your veins. Dean’s name a chant from your dry, parched lips, panting to try and fill your starving lungs. Body vibrating on a higher frequency only Dean’s turned in on as with every snap of his hips, brush of his thumb sends your spiraling deeper into euphoria.

Reaching up to wrap your hand around his neck to bring him back down for another kiss. This one sloppy as the thrusts of Dean’s hips, brief touches of lips, wet slide of your tongues across the other. Eyes sliding closed only to snap back open with a pinch to your nipple soothed over my his teasing fingers.

“Keep those beautiful eyes open for me sweetheart and cum for me I know your close. You just gotta let go for me,” resting your foreheads together, gritting his teeth to starve off his own orgasm. The wet clinch almost too much for Dean to handle. Always wondering but never imagining how good this truly would feel.

“Dean,” breathing out his name, a series of moans and whimpers following. Trying to capture his mouth for another kiss that’s broken off when your orgasm slams into you soaking Dean’s cock in your slick. Eyes rolling back his name a screamed prayer from your lips.

Body convulsing in pleasurable all consuming fire, little sparks of light pin prick behind your tightly closed eyes. Moisture breath fans out over your neck where Dean buries his face, lips pressing into your skin. Chasing that high while working you through your orgasm the wet clinch of your walls prove too much to starve off any long. Giving in with a groan of your name rubbed into your skin as he fills the condom. Circling his hips a few more times to drag out the pleasurable spikes racking his frame.

Collapsing into your arms a welcome weight pressing you into the mattress as you both try to capture your breath. He brings your joined hands down starting to untwine them but the shake of your head stops the actions.

“For a few moments longer,” voice hoarse from screaming out your pleasure. Free hand coming up to card through his sweat drenched hair. Brushing the strands back from his forehead and sliding your lips over his. Brief touches, lingering into something deeper. Tender caresses of mouth’s, nibbling, and sucking softly on bruised skin. Dean starts to move getting a whimpered whine from your throat tightening your arms around him.

“Gotta clear you up sweetheart I’m not going anywhere,” reassuring you with another soft kiss while carefully pulling out of your tender depths. Mesmerized by the slick coating your tights and dripping from your convulsing walls. Brushing his fingers over the reddening swollen skin, gasp reaching his ears, eyes flying up to yours. Then flicking across your body seeing the beard burn on your neck and chest, hand prints blooming over your hips. “Did I hurt you?”

Sitting up to cup his cheeks, “No Dean you didn’t hurt me. If you had I would’ve told you.” Leaning in to kiss him tendering, “Better take care of that mess it’ll get awful sticky otherwise,” giving him a bright smile. Watching while he gingerly takes the spent condom off, tying it closed before tossing it into the waste bin by the night stand.

Raising to walk on shaky bowed legs to grab up the wash cloth from the sink. Wetting with warm water he turns back stunned to find you watching him with a grin on your lips. “Like what you see?”

“Hmm no,” seeing the frown you go to finish. “Love Dean, I see the man I love,” frown switching to teasing smirk as he nears the bed.

Nudging you to lay back and spread your legs, tenderly wiping you clean. Dragging the warm cloth over your folds and inner thighs. Tossing it behind him to crawl into bed gathering your pliant plush body against his hard chest. Back pressed into his front, arms wrapped tightly around your thick waist. Placing a kiss to your shoulder, “I love to you Y/N, get some rest I’m far from through with you.”

Soft giggles vibrate into his chest, “Careful you’re getting old baby you sure you’ll have the stamina?” Toying with the fingers tapping against your tummy sending shivers cross your body.

Low growl accompanies the drag of his teeth over your sensitive skin, drawing a moan from your lips. Pressing his hips into your generous ass, “Give me an hour sweetheart and I’ll show you just how much stamina your man has.”

#Request #SPN Mixed Bingo Square #Hurt/Comfort #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Fem!Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size F!Reader #Supernatural fiction

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virgojeons · 3 years

Text

true love (jjk)

summary: you and jungkook spend your first christmas together.

alternatively, a merry love story based on the lyrics of true love by ariana grande.

genre: fluff, humor, college au, established relationship, holiday series, jeon jungkook x reader

word count: 4.6k

warnings: cursing, implied sexual content, excessive use of pet names

wattpad version here, ao3 version here

a/n: well, here i am!! pls be gentle with me, this is the first time ive ever posted my writing on here and ive been debating it for months lmao. i truly truly hope u enjoy!!

on the first day of christmas when you gave me all them kisses, boy you showed me things, come hold me please and never let me go.

"Five days until Christmas and you're still decorating the tree?"

You yelped at the sudden sound of your boyfriend's voice, dropping your over-accessorized ornament and watching helplessly as it shattered against the floor.

Immediately, you whined. "Jungkook!"

Jungkook suppressed a grin at the furrow of your eyebrows and the pout of your lips, kicking his shoes off and tossing his coat onto the couch. He didn't mean to scare you, really. You even knew he was coming over. It's just that you left the front door unlocked (as you always did when he was on his way, despite him constantly scolding you for it) and there was no way you would've heard him come in over the sound of Jingle Bell Rock blaring through the house.

"Sorry, baby," He chuckled, bending down beside you to help pick up the remnants of your best ornament. "I didn't mean to scare you."

You glared at him in between collecting the shards of glass in your hand. "I spent hours making that."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Hot glue gun burns, sparkles stuck on my face and everything."

Jungkook took the pieces of glass from you with an amused look on his face, standing from his kneeling position to toss them in the trash can you had earlier moved to the living room for easy access. "I'm sorry. I'll make you another one."

"It's not the same." You sulked, finding fun in being stubborn and giving him a hard time. It was getting increasingly difficult though, with his rosy nose and ears and that little gleam in his eyes.

It was then that he made his first move of the night, tugging you by your oversized Rudolph sweater so quickly that you had to latch onto his shoulders for leverage with a squeal. His grin only seemed to grow once you were officially in his space, taking notice of your lack of pants and the snowflake stockings that appeared to be in their place instead.

"You don't look too sorry," You chuckled, heart stuttering at the way he was gazing down at you in such close proximity.

Jungkook shrugged, nudging his nose with yours. "I'm just happy."

They were such simple words, but it was the way he said them, the way he looked at you when he said them. You couldn’t lie, the excitement of spending your first Christmas together, completely alone, was incredibly infectious. It was gross and it was corny and everything else you swore you would never be, but you were in love with Jungkook. Devastatingly so. You from nine months ago probably wouldn’t even recognize the present you; a fact that friends, family, and even Jungkook alike loved to tease you about. Cracking the so-called ice queen was a feat to be celebrated, apparently. Whatever. He was yours and you were his so you didn’t quite care about the technicalities of it. Even if the story went a bit differently, in your opinion.

The brutal snow and temperatures of February were beginning to fade into spring when you met Jungkook.

You and Jimin had been attempting to finish your economics homework together in your favorite coffee shop; a hidden treasure that was a ten minute walk from campus and ticked all your aesthetic boxes. You two were sipping from your respective hot drinks, neglecting your heaps of bookwork in favor of discussing the new season of Stranger Things. Jimin was deep into his theory of Hopper still being alive when his eyes flickered to the door at the sound of the bell, widening slightly in recognition before a bright smile took over his face.

"Jungkook!" Jimin called, waving whoever it was over.

You followed his gaze and turned your head in the direction of the entrance, growing curious when the boy walking towards your table wasn't familiar to you. It took you less than five seconds to realize that the boy in question was attractive.

Like, extremely attractive. The kind of attractive that should not be subjected to the way you look right now.

It took you even less time to whip your head back around, glaring at Jimin with wide eyes and a panicked expression.

He met your glare with a confused scrunch of his eyebrows before it slowly transformed into a smirk, quickly catching on to what your pointed look was for. The night before had been a late one. You, like any other normal millennial, had impulse bought a pretty yellow Nintendo Switch solely for the new Animal Crossing game. As soon as it arrived on your doorstep you were retreating into your room, tearing the package open with squeals of excitement.

Maybe you completely lost track of time and played until your eyes were bloodshot and you heard birds chirping outside. Maybe you got an astounding two hours of sleep. And maybe you had fallen asleep without setting an alarm and woke up thirty minutes later than usual.

The details were insignificant though, because you were throwing on a pair of leggings and the first sweatshirt you saw, brushing your hair and your teeth, and hastily sprinting to your car all in record time.

No sleep. No makeup. No breakfast. And worst of all, no coffee.

And so, it was blatantly clear you had no desire to let a boy that beautiful even glance at you in that state, let alone introduce himself. But it didn't look like you had a choice in the matter, because moments later he was towering over your table with a stupidly handsome smile.

Jungkook grinned, reaching out to do that Weird Bro Handshake with Jimin. "Hey, Chim."

You were already plotting various methods of painful revenge in your head.

"Hey, Kook. What are you doing here?"

"I kind of work here," He chuckled. "Well, as of like, yesterday. Today's my first day."

"Oh, so this is the new job you were telling me about," Jimin nodded in realization, then his eyes flickered mischievously to yours. You’re rapidly shaking your head. "You know, this is my friend ___'s favorite coffee spot."

A scowl immediately takes over your face, only to be wiped off and replaced by a sickeningly sweet smile when Jungkook turns his head to look your way. The instant your eyes meet his you quite literally want to melt into the floor.

Jungkook smiles at you. Like, really smiles. "Hey, that's cool. We'll probably be seeing a lot of each other then, right?"

Across the table, Jimin snorts, which only adds to the way your cheeks are absolutely flaming. You send a harsh kick to Jimin's leg as inconspicuously as you can, all while batting your eyelashes at Jungkook.

"Uh, yeah! We probably... will."

Jungkook looks positively amused, but if he notices Jimin rushing to clutch his leg, he doesn't say anything.

"Sweet," He grins again. There's a brief few seconds where you two are just gazing at each other, stupid and shy, until Jimin loudly clears his throat. "Right, well, I should probably go clock in. Let's chill sometime this week, Chim."

"Sure thing." Jimin sings, smugness plastered all over his face.

Jungkook waves, already backing away from the table with his eyes on you. "Nice meeting you."

You feel yourself flush again and you absolutely hate it. "Nice meeting you too."

With a final smile, Jungkook disappears behind the employee doors. The moment he leaves your eyes are screwed shut and you're slamming your head against the table. The silence speaks for itself. You don't even need to see Jimin's face to know that he's either smirking or stifling his laughter.

"Don't." You warn.

"You just blushed," He says anyway. "Like, four times."

"I most definitely did not blush."

"You did. You still are."

"I'm embarrassed!" You wail. "That's literally the only reason why. I look like I got ran over and dragged for three blocks."

"Jungkook sure doesn't seem to think so," Jimin hums, snickering as he sips his coffee.

"Stop."

"He likes you." He insists.

"He was just being polite." You defend.

"That is literally my childhood best friend. I think I would know."

This makes you pause. Then you sigh. "He doesn't even know me."

He doesn’t disagree. But then again, "Not yet."

"Stop trying to play matchmaker, Jimin. He said five words to me," You spoke firmly, exasperated as you downed the final sip of your latte. "Plus, I'm just focusing on me and my degree right now. No distractions."

Jimin knew that you were already worn out, and even though he was mostly joking around, he wouldn’t want to push you any further. He’d drop it.

"Fine. We'll see who's right in the end, though."

For now.

"I will dump that hot coffee over your head."

As it turns out, Jimin was kind of right.

It takes a grand total of four visits to your favorite coffee shop before Jungkook asks you out. The first time you were by yourself, nose buried in a book as Jungkook was clocking in. He wasn't able to speak to you until about an hour later, when the morning rush had passed and you had finally lifted your head from whatever was in that book.

You were honestly dreading facing him again, but you were prepared and actually presentable this time. Also you were kind of starving. And so, you hesitantly approached the counter. Jungkook took your order, both of you all fidgeting hands and sheepish smiles. You mentally patted yourself on the back when you spoke without any real mess-ups, and prayed that the cool girl aura you always tried so desperately to maintain was being transmitted.

Not like you were trying to leave a lasting impression, or anything.

He hand delivered you your coffee and muffin with a beaming grin, all while his new boss glared at him from behind the counter. He didn't have to know that you knew cashiers weren't supposed to serve the food.

The second visit was a few days after. You were with Jimin again, shooting down every jab he made about you only wearing a pretty dress because you knew you would be coming here. Jungkook joined you both during his break. As soon as he untied his apron and sat himself directly across from you, it struck. You knew you were screwed. You just couldn't stop staring at him. The chin in the palm of your hands and sparkles in your eyes type of staring. You would be much more ashamed if you couldn’t see the way he was staring right back. Jimin found this hilarious, of course, and would subtly find ways to connect you two in conversation. You weren't sure if you loved or hated him for it.

It was that visit that Jungkook insisted on sharing his slice of strawberry cake with you, claiming he wasn't that hungry. The both of you were embarrassed, whacking his arm and dismissing him as Jimin complained about being the third wheel. By the end of his break, Jungkook was positively smitten, you were begrudgingly infatuated, and Jimin was awfully smug. He reluctantly said bye to you both, and you were slouching forward with your head in your hands the moment he disappeared from visibility.

Jimin looked extremely pleased. "Believe me now?"

"Focusing on school," You protested. It was a weak one, but. Well.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" He mused.

And suddenly, you were frantic. Panicking. This was definitely not a part of the plan.

Quickly packing up your things, you groaned loudly. "You. Maybe me. Or both. I can't think in this place anymore."

"You'll be all over each other by next week."

"Shh!" You were childishly covering your ears and speed-walking out of the café.

Try as you might, you couldn't help yourself and returned the very next day after all your classes had finished. Jungkook was already there when you walked in, taking a customer's order but doing a double take and flashing you a smile when you appeared in his line of sight. This visit consisted of nothing but pretending.

Pretending to be studying. Pretending you weren't listening to him take orders just to hear his voice. Pretending you weren't sneaking glances at him. Pretending that the way your eyes kept meeting wasn't making your skin prickle. And you were just fine pretending, until suddenly he was in the seat across from with you his apron off and a steaming hot chocolate in hand. You tried your hardest to remain indifferent, you really did. But then he was pushing the beverage towards you with gentle eyes and his smile hopeful, telling you it was his treat because he noticed how hard you were studying. And then you were melting right along with the marshmallows in that mug.

The two of you talked about your majors, your families, your favorite shows, even Jimin. You asked about his tattoos and he explained them with ease. You also may have pulled out one of the oldest tricks in the book at the sight of his knuckle tattoos, gasping in feigned wonder when you pulled his hand against yours to measure the size difference.

His hand could swallow yours whole and still have some leftover, you discovered. It was a very rewarding experiment.

You made each other laugh and blush down to the very last second of his break. Scarily enough, being in each other's presence was so annoyingly addictive that you found yourself hesitant to watch him leave. You could tell Jungkook felt the same by the way he dragged out his goodbyes. I work again on Thursday, maybe I'll see you then? Your fingers brushed as he softly took the mug from you. It was really fun talking to you. You were biting your lip to keep from smiling embarrassingly big. You look really pretty today, by the way. And then he was off.

You made a strangled noise the second you were outside with your fingers frantically beginning to type a message to Jimin.

promise not to say i told you so :///

Jungkook asked you out on your fourth visit. As soon as you approached the counter, he just blurted it out. As if it was something he couldn't hold on his tongue any longer. You couldn't hear yourself say yes over your brain malfunctioning and the powerful thumping of your heart, but you knew you did. His heartbreakingly gorgeous grin told you so.

On his break, Jungkook brought you a latte with a heart carved in the cream. You just couldn't conceal the coo that escaped you, which quickly resulted in his cheeks reddening.

Cute, you thought.

He quizzed you on your personality and the type of activities you liked to do, admitting that he would use the information to conjure up the best date you would ever go on. Six days later, Jungkook stayed true to his word. Not only was it the best date you had ever been on, but you were completely certain it would ruin any other dates for you moving forward, unless they were with him. Much to your annoyance and also utter delight, you were so sure of Jeon Jungkook and your brief but striking time together that you kissed him. Right on the swings of your favorite childhood playground, first date rules tossed aside.

He was so caught off guard that his eyes expanded to twice their normal size and your teeth banged together. You drew back, slightly mortified and ready to jump to your death from the tallest slide on the playground, but Jungkook was huffing a laugh onto your lips and grabbing your face like it was nothing. Then you two got it just right, and something clicked. The earth fell off its axis and you were rendered breathless and all that nauseating cliché shit you chastised as a myth. And from that day forward, you two were completely, tooth-rottingly, inseparable.

"Easy," Jungkook proclaimed, pecking your lips. "We finished the tree."

He set you back on the floor gently, releasing a dramatic breath of air as if lifting you to place the star on top of the tree had actually winded him. As if he wasn't a muscle pig. You rolled your eyes and told him as much.

"Don't be a baby, muscle pig," You shoved at his bicep, only proving your point further when he didn't move an inch. ‘And I finished the tree.”

Instead, he caught the hand that you nudged him with and pulled your back to his chest, caging you between his arms. "Muscle pig, huh? That's what you think of me, baby?"

You flushed at the teasing lilt in his voice, suddenly very eager to escape his hold. But try as you might, he just wouldn't budge. A loud laugh left your throat as you flailed in his grasp, his muscled arms bulging in the turtleneck you bought him for his birthday a few months ago. Suddenly, you decided that you would be returning it for your own personal peace.

A high pitched whine left your mouth, one that lost all its seriousness once it was drowned out by your giggles. "Jungkook, let go of me!"

You would just not stop wiggling, and Jungkook could not stop laughing. He could live the rest of his life like this, his brain pauses to think. He's so happy.

And when you're thrashing so violently that your heel kicks his pocket with a force that has an object clattering onto the floor, Jungkook has never reacted faster in his life. Instantly your imprisonment is gone, and Jungkook is on your floor in a flash. Your eyebrows draw together at the sight of him scrambling for whatever it is, and all you're able to see is a sleek black case before he's quickly stuffing it back in his pocket.

You're eyeing him when he rises back on his feet. "Feel like sharing?"

Jungkook whistles noncommittally. "Not particularly, no."

There's a drawn-out beat of silence where you're just gazing at each other, neither one of you backing down. And then you're crossing your arms, and he's looking at your nose and your forehead and anywhere but your eyes, and then you're arching an eyebrow. He looks at you and breaks. Defeat.

"It's your present," He lets out a heavy sigh. "Well, the main one anyway."

You positively squeal. "Ooh! Can I see? Please?"

"Baby, it's the 20th."

"Can I have a hint?"

Jungkook blinks. "No, you cannot have a hint."

You're instantly pouting, but Jungkook expects that, because he knows you better than anyone else. Which is why he knows that you're a little spoiled, with a bit of a bratty streak, with just a dash of calculated charm that you use to your advantage to get just about anything you want. He's never seen it as a bad thing. In fact, he finds it cute. A little hot, too, if he's being truthful.

Anyway, he came prepared. Just as you're opening your mouth to no doubt make him spill the surprise, he's hushing you with a bruising kiss to your lips. The kind of kiss that makes you go pliant against him, the kind that makes you make a little noise in the back of your throat. The kind you've been waiting for all night.

It’s the trick that never truly runs its course.

And Jungkook is melting, too. Melting, turning to mush at your very feet, until you're moving backwards and clutching at his shoulders, ready to push him onto the couch.

"Mmm," He's humming against you, before he reluctantly draws back. He lets you chase his lips once, twice, before he chuckles lowly. "Hold on, angel."

You're suddenly feeling warm all over after his kisses, wanting nothing more than to cuddle into him into the couch and feel him next to you. Or maybe above you. With that chain you always tugged on dangling in your face. You really weren't picky.

You watched Jungkook break away from you and rummage through his bag with a frown and a newfound heat at the pit of your belly. "It can't wait?"

Like he said, he knows you, which means he knew kisses alone wouldn’t be able to satiate you nor get you to stop asking questions for the entire week. No matter how mind-numbing they may be.

"One second," He promised, and you definitely counted at least five, but he quickly found what he was looking for all the same. "I brought a surprise. Well, two surprises."

He was holding both of his hands behind his back with this stupid grin on his face. You squinted for a few seconds, suspicious, before breathing out a laugh. "Are you ever gonna show me?"

Jungkook looked way too happy with himself.

"The most important surprise is mistletoe, obviously. Gonna have to find a way to glue it on to the ceiling above your bed." And there was that mischievous little smile that told you he had every intention of carrying that out.

You folded your arms over your body and scoffed. Even if you were trying and failing to keep your lips from quirking up and possibly, maybe finding it a little harder to breathe all of a sudden. "You're unbelievable, Jeon."

He just winked and held up his other hand, pulling a gasp from your lips the second you realized what it was.

"The Polar Express!"

"I had to check like, four different stores in the mall to find it. That's why I got here a little late, by the way. But I thought we could make some hot chocolate like in the movie and watch it together and," Jungkook pauses to think, licking his lips. "There's a 'ride my train' joke in here somewhere but I don't know how to say it."

He's snorting at his own delivery before you are, and once your giggles permeate the air he's invading your space again with a lovesick smile.

"You are the sweetest boy," You praise, holding his pretty face with both hands and peppering small kisses all over it the way he secretly likes. "But you make me sick to my stomach sometimes."

If anything, this makes him smile even wider. "I love you too, baby."

You and Jungkook are in complete darkness besides the light coming from the TV in your room playing Polar Express. His head is on your shoulder with his arm strewn across your waist, and his entire leg slotted between yours. He's soft. He smells like the lavender body soap you keep in your shower. His gentle breaths hit your neck every time he exhales and you're now cliché enough to believe that the heart underneath you beats in tandem with yours.

Both of your stomachs are filled from the takeout he ordered for dinner and the peppermint hot chocolate you made while he was in the shower. You're still mentally replaying the moment he stepped back in your room, towel wrapped around his waist with droplets of water cascading down his body. His prominent abs and tattoos and wet hair had you scrambling to sit up, clearing your throat as you tasked yourself with handing him his mug. If he noticed you ogling him, he surely didn’t react to it.

Made us some cocoa, you said.

He brought the beverage to his nose and sniffed once, twice, before his entire face bunched up. Peppermint is nasty. Then he was gulping it down.

I thought it was nasty, you laughed in disbelief.

Nothing you make me can be nasty. Thank you, baby.

And now you’re thoroughly warm from the tips of your fingertips down to your toes, and you figure it has less to do with the cocoa and more with the way Jungkook so obviously loves you. The way you love him.

Feeling a tugging at your shirt, you look down to see him peering up at you with a dazed twinkle in his eye. "You're not hot in this?"

You purse your lips and pause, knowing what was coming. "No. Are you?"

He has the decency to look a little clueless. He was always doing that, in a playfully childish way you grew to love.

"Actually, yeah I am," Jungkook furrows his brows, like it was something he was just now realizing. And then he's sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head, and you're instantly staring at his back and remembering the way it feels to rake your fingers up and down it, and he's turning back to you with a lazy smirk. "You don't wanna take yours off, angel?"

You swallow. "I'm okay."

Jungkook starts to laugh, that cocky laugh that is equal parts douchebag-ish and sexy. He's most definitely turning you on and he most definitely knows this, which is why you're glaring at him until he reaches over you and picks up the mistletoe from your bedside desk. He dangles it over your heads, makes sure to wriggle his eyebrows suggestively when he does it, and you want to laugh, you really do. You would probably roll your eyes and call him a nerd too while you were at it, if it weren't for the way he was changing his position and starting to lean over you. Crowding your space in your favorite way.

Jungkook hears your breathing pick up once you're directly under him, watches the way your lips part and your eyes change for him, and decides to go for the kill.

Nothing about the kiss was soft or gentle. Jungkook clearly had a point to prove and knew how he wanted to do it. The dangling mistletoe was soon forgotten in favor of holding your face by your chin, landing with a chime on your wooden floors. He worked your mouth open in that sloppy, messy, dirty way he only exhibited when he was feeling particularly desperate. Saliva pooled at the corners of your mouth and you were trembling underneath him, clutching at the warm skin of his back. It was nasty, absolutely obscene the way his tongue was in your mouth like his life depended on it. And you loved it. You couldn't stop making these little sounds, and Jungkook was groaning into your mouth right along with you. You were seconds away from pleading for him to do anything he wanted, to make you his, when he's abruptly pulling from you with a wet pop and a string of saliva between you.

Your ragged breaths fill the air, both of your chests heaving as you take a second to attempt to drag yourself out of the haze he's built around you two.

The asshole has the audacity to laugh. "Hot yet?"

"You don't have to bring out the mistletoe to kiss me, you know." You eventually say instead.

"I know," He pants, still smiling like the all-consuming beauty he is. "But you love Christmas. And it's our first. Wanna do it right."

You feel the need to close your eyes, let his words sink in, and so you do. You let the statement blanket over you until you're positively beaming, and when you open your eyes, he is the same. You are so irreversibly in love and you think he might be perfect. You tell him as much.

"You're perfect," You say, all soft and starry eyed. You're nodding when he starts shaking his head, and when the tips of his ears begin to turn red and he's putting his head down, you're giggling and putting both hands on either side of his head to get his eyes back on yours. "I love you a lot."

Jungkook is so happy. "Love you most."

And then he's leaning down again. This kiss is much less frantic, more steady, but still passionate and still with Jungkook, which means it fills your body with heat all the same. Your head is floating and you're squirming under his hold again when you break apart for air.

There's no point in trying to resist him anymore. You never can.

"I'm gonna take my sweater off now."

Jungkook scrunches his nose, and grins. "Okay."

read part two here!

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #fluff #humor #jungkook fanfiction #jeongguk #kpop #kpop fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook series #jeongguk x reader

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lavishedinjimin · 4 years

Note

hiii do u mind if u answered this ask with quotes from bts, or song recommendation perhaps? i feel so shit lately and everything that’s going on around me is not helping (especially the people around me). I feel like this is the only safe space that I can go to. If this is too bothersome then pls ignore this ask, thank u - 🎶

bts song reqs to make everyone feel better!

2!3! -> "It's okay, come on when I say one, two, three, forget everything. Erase all sad memories, hold my hand and smile."

I'M FINE (even though this is a very upbeat song, listen to the lyrics!) -> "I'm fine, you're fine. All of the sadness and scars become an old memory now. Our future will only have happiness, so please put away your fears. Enjoy it, you've worked hard, we're fine."

LOVE MAZE -> "Keep it in mind, the lies try to separate us, try to deceive us. But in moments like that, just concentrate on me. We have enough in the dark. If we are together, even this endless maze is paradise."

YOUNG FOREVER (don't give up on your dreams, even though your path starts to fade) -> "Forever we are young. Even when I fall and hurt myself, I keep running toward my dream."

NOT TODAY -> "If you can't fly, then run. If you can't run, then walk. If you can't walk, then crawl. Together, we will survive."

MAGIC SHOP -> "If you open the door in your heart and go in, this place will await you. It's alright to believe in it. It'll comfort you, magic shop."

SPRING DAY -> "The morning will come again. Because no darkness, no season can last forever."

MIKROKOSMOS -> "Each person's light is precious. In the dark night, don't feel lonely. Like all the stars, we shine."

SO FAR AWAY -> "May all of creation be with you until the end of your life. Wherever you are in life, it will be generous. May your trials end in full bloom. Though your beginnings might be humble, may the end be prosperous.

here's two quotes from jk and nj that I found from interviews. I hope this can help as well!

the english translations are not mine.

JUNGKOOK: "So what I want to say is! I'd be satisfied if you could find the bit of happiness even in moments when you're having a hard time, when you're exhausted, and when darkness comes over you. I wish you could find a light, happiness in those moments. I've succeeded if our music can become that happiness for you."

NAMJOON: "Maybe we don't have courage to face the ugly sides of ourselves, so if one day we can finally face ourselves then in the end, maybe we can truly start loving ourselves. So you, my dear, don't cry. My dear, if you have warmth in your heart then there will definitely be a person who's heart is as warm as yours who will come into your life. There are a lot of things in this world that happens beyond our control."

the fact that I'm getting chills while writing these quotes. bts' lyricism might be the best out there, and believe me when I say that I haven't listened to a single western artist who makes a huge impact on myself other than bts. I love how they really care about their message and what they want to teach to us fans. they're certainly role models. everything will be okay, anon, remember that you are not alone and there are people out there who cares for you. this goes out to everyone too! 💜💞

#🎶.#bts songs #bts lyrics #bts inspirational lyrics #bts sad lyrics #bts english lyrics translations #bts quotes

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living-dead-parker · 5 years

Text

New Girl

Summary: Request - Can you do an imagine where your Tony’s daughter and there’s this new girl intern whose trying to outdo you so u feel like the avengers don’t really need you because you think she’s smarter and prettier than you .. thanks :)

What? I actually wrote something??

Warnings: cussing probably, slight angst, real ooc shit but idc man

Word Count: 4.5k ooh she long

You're not a jealous person. Really, you'd always felt jealousy was an ugly color. Unfortunately for you, everybody would describe you as such at the moment. Though in your defense, it's not jealousy. It's a case of fraud!

"Good job, Ally," your dad congratulates the intern. she'd originally been a temp. A seasonal temp for the Spring. Well, spring was over three months ago. In fact, Fall is approaching and it seems like she'll still be here for at least another three months. You scowl inwardly, tired of hearing her name. " We're all meeting in20 to discuss the Halloween charity event," Tony says and your eyes widen. She was definitely not invited to that meeting! "Meet us in conference room B, please?"

It's not that you don't like temps or interns. In fact, you've become great friends with a lot of them over the years. It's just something about Ally. She's a total suck up and she's totally stealing your place. Before she came along, the team would come to you for suit and tech upgrades. They'd go to you for advice on combat in regards to their suits or tech. But ever since Ally came around, she's taken over that. The team goes to her now and they seem to like her better for it as the last person to have stepped into your lab was your dad, three days ago to ask you if you could consult with Ally. Before that was Peter about a month and a half before that to hang out. It's been a while. Then you'd been placed to work on some SI renewable energy source project but then that responsibility went to Ally as well. Ultimately, you didn't have much to do, so you started, unknown to anybody but yourself, dabbling in the fashion industry and took up witchcraft because you have the time.

Before you even hear her response, you turn around and head out towards the elevators. Along the way, you find yourself bumping into Peter. He's quick to apologize despite the fact that you were the one not watching where you were going.

" Peter?" you call out confused. Why he's even on that floor, to begin with taking you by surprise. He has his own lab on the same floor you, your father, and Bruce do. Nowhere near this floor. "What are you doing here?"

" Uh," he pauses, nervously scratching his neck. "I was gonna meet with Ally. Gonna ask her if she can help me repair my web shooters, hang out a bit too."

You almost visibly deflate at that. Great, even your crush would rather go to Ally for something than you. You've helped Peter with his web shooters before, and he'd usually always hang out with you. What the hell? " Oh," you finally respond. "I can help you! After the meeting, I mean."

" It's fine, Y/N," Peter responds. "Don't wanna put a lot on your plate. Go work on your pitch."

Before you can say anything, Ally is walking out with your dad. The two are laughing like they've known each other for years. She calls out to Peter and he tells you he'll see you in a few. You watch him walk up to Ally and you pick up on how she bites her lip, tucking a strand of her long, black, straight hair behind her ear. Her green eyes stare into Peter's and you suddenly feel self-conscious as Peter stares at her.

"Hey Y/N," your dad calls out, walking next to you. "Why are you down here?" He presses a button and the elevator opens, allowing both of you to step in.

"Oh, you know," you start, waving him off. " Just practicing for the meeting. you know how I am."

Tony nods as the elevator goes up two floors to the conference floor. Upon arrival, your phone dings, showing an email notification. You open it and see it's from someone named Alex Gianni. A fashion designer on the come up. Not too unknown as his clothing is all the rage with teens and internet influencers. However, the biggest thing about him is that his father, Arlo Gianni, is one of your father's biggest critics. The two have a mutual dislike for each other and it's kind of hilarious. Nonetheless, you're acquaintances with Alex.

' Y/N Stark, It's in my interest to ask you if you're available to direct my winter line's fashion show. I'm well aware of your eye for design and fashion as well as the mixture of applied sciences into your practices. In short, I grant you creative freedom over the show, based on the looks should you decide to accept this offer.'

Initially, you didn't think much of the email and decided to ignore it for the time being. You'd decline his offer later, for the sake of your dear old dad. However, the offer is very tempting. You've been wanting to do a show before, but you never really got the chance. Nonetheless, you push the thought behind and decide to focus on the subject matter of the meeting.

"Where's Parker?" you find yourself asking, seconds before the meeting is set to start. Everyone shrugs but Tony says to just start without him, that he'll fill him in on the information. So you commence the meeting. Most of your bit is the introductory stuff. Pepper would begin discussing the meat of it all. Halfway through your speech, Peter and Ally walk in, laughing obnoxiously loud. Their eyes widen when they see you and your upset face. Being the professional you are, you continue like that never happened. However, as you continue, you notice the unprofessionalism of the others in the room. They all managed to start some kind of conversation with Ally and even Pepper and your father managed to ignore you and to join in. Peter couldn't seem to keep his voice down and that was the final straw. "And I have a big announcement to make!"

The loudness of your voice gained all thin attention. With a smile used to hide the anger and the heartbreak, you speak up. "I've decided to drop out of the charity event organizer committee. Pepper will be fine on her own, I know she will be."

With that, you head out the conference room and into the elevator. Once the doors shut, you let the tears fall. The anger and the sadness of having everybody forget about you and Choose the seemingly smarter and prettier girl finally coming out. Through teary eyes, you unlock your phone and decide to email Alex back.

' Hey Alex, I would be honored to direct your show! I'm so glad you chose me, please let me know when you'd like to meet to discuss plans.'

Two days passed before you got a sudden response. You'd spent those two days in bed crying and listening to a lot of Fleetwood Mac. No one even tried looking for you or talking to you for those two days given that you haven't gotten a single knock on your door, nor a text or call, not even a message from FRIDAY. When you opened the response, you saw that it was a text from Alex asking if you could meet in two hours. You were quick to respond, jumping up to get ready. For the first time in 48 hours, you were up and smiling.

You were quick to throw on some jeans, a top, and a coat over that. You asked FRIDAY to do a scan where everybody was so that you could avoid them all for now. Deep down, you feel like you're exaggerating, but at the same time, you know you're not. Everyone has been forgetting about you, often ignoring you for Ally for the past six months. Some you've gone that amount of time not seeing. It's depressing. Their unprofessionalism was just the thing that made you break. So, FRIDAY gives you the best route to take so you don't have to see any of them and you take it. You're in a car withing ten minutes and you're driving off toward's Alex's house to meet up.

That's how the next couple of weeks went, without anyone noticing. You'd wake up at 9 AM, get ready for your day and head out as soon as you were ready. You'd go to the nearest cafe, get some breakfast, and eat. Then, you'd get to Alex's house by 10:30. Then, you'd both convene for a while, bouncing ideas off each other, and get to drawing or writing plans. You'd try on the clothes, feel it, look at it. He'd take you to the stores, spend some time with the die-hard fans of his and his brand. You truly delved into the world of the clothes. By the time you were done, it'd be dinner time. You'd have dinner with Alex's family, and it was those moments that you got the familial attention you'd been craving for some time now. Sure, Arlo made comments about your dad, and usually, you'd refute them, but not this time around. Instead, you ignored them and just pretended they were never said. It felt wrong but it felt nice to have someone actually ask you how your day was despite spending the day around you. On days where you weren't over at Alex's house, you'd spend some time watching videos or pictures from influencers who wore his stuff. You'd be in your own rabbit hole for hours on end, listening to music that could serve as a possible soundtrack. You'd even go into your lab and find ways to improve on the show through engineering and science.

Then it all came crashing, in a sense, one day. There were about three weeks until showtime, and you were at home in your lab. You'd gotten the notification. You were expecting the news to come out, it had to at some point before the show. However, you weren't really expecting the backlash from those around you. It started with Alex's brand posting the picture on the brand's account. It was a black and white picture of you, Arlo, and Alex standing in Alex's office. You're all looking at a rack of the new clothes and you're all smiling and laughing. A candid picture. Around it had the words 'Lexicon Couture x Y/N Stark Fall and Winter 19.' It had the date of the show and the time it would happen. The caption read, 'Something big is coming. #LexiconxStark #GiannixStark'

Everyone was freaking out in the comments, the post becoming one of the brand's most liked. Next, came Alex's post. It was the same thing, except he tagged you in the post and he even added a red heart emoji. A most exclusive emoji. Then finally came Arlo's post. It was a repost of Alex's and he added something along the lines of 'my basically new daughter has teamed up with my son for his line.'

Not too long after the posts went viral, you got the email from the company to repost the pictures to gain even more viewership, so you did, leaving the caption as simple yet ominous as the brand's caption. Not too long after you posted it was there a knock on your door. You were too busy adding some finishing touches to the design to care that it could be something not good, so without hesitation, you tell the person to come in.

"You're working with Arlo Gianni?" your dad asks, bursting through the door. You look up from your tablet, seeing Tony's totally devastated look. Without thinking about it, you nod, looking back down at the sketches on your tablet. "The Arlo Gianni? The one who's one of my many enemies? Y/N, how could you do this to me?"

"It's not that serious-"

"Not that serious? He called you his daughter, in his post, Y/N. I take offense to that."

"Look, I didn't take offense to you calling Ally 'like a daughter' okay? Plus, he's not that bad once you get to know him. I was only working with Alex at the beginning but much like all his other kid's ventures, his dad got involved because he cares. Plus Arlo feeds me and asks me how my day has been. I'm just finally trying to set foot into the fashion world like I have been for the past couple of years and my good friend Alex is offering me an outlet to do just that by allowing me full artistic and directorial creativity over his line's show."

Tony stays quiet, noticing how you don't look up at him. "Well, Peter seems devastated that you're so close to Alex. He ranted to Ally the other day that the girl he likes, you know you, has disappeared for days and suddenly she's shown hanging out with Alex Gianni. So...."

"I don't know what you want me to say, dad," you respond, hoping he gets the hint that you're upset now. Hoping he'll react in one of two ways; leave you alone, or apologize for being a dick. "I'm just chasing my dreams here since I have nothing to do here. So, if you're gonna keep chastising me, please go away."

Without another word, he exits your room. When the door shuts, you ask FRIDAY to lock it, feeling the tears come out. Suddenly, you're friends with the enemy and that's when Peter and Tony decide to come around to realizing that they want you? That's when they decide to come around? All for the wrong reasons too? Well, now you plan on rubbing it in that you don't really need them. Yeah, sure it's mostly spite speaking, but deep down you're pissed. How dare they think that they can cast you out and then get mad when you find something of your own to do?

So the next day when Alex asks you if you want to go on his family's vacation for the week, you're quick to respond yes. They'd claimed it would be a celebratory trip to Italy for finishing the show ahead of time. You'd spent the next week teasing your father, the Avengers, and Peter by making them jealous. A post about how Alex is your most handsome best friend at the moment for Peter to see, an Instagram post with Alex's whole family, calling them the best and most supportive team on earth aimed at all the Avengers, and a Snapchat post with Arlo pouring you a glass of champagne to stab your own father in the chest the way he did to you. It was petty, it was ridiculous, and it was everything you felt like doing at the moment. Then at some point in the week, your intentions became sort of clear to Alex, who found it rather amusing. He admitted that he wasn't attracted to you in that way because he's gay, but he'd help you in the part of making Peter jealous by posing with you in various promising poses.

The week was over and you were back home. Now there were only two weeks until showtime and it was time to do some press. Alex had been in interviews all day and you were meant to be working on a guest list for the show, and you weren't so sure if you wanted to invite your dad or the Avengers. On one hand, you've worked on this on your own. This was your thing and you wanted to enjoy it as such. However, you do want them there, even if you currently are upset with every one of them. Plus, it could be a good way to rub it in their faces.

So with that, you add them all to the list. You go on about your business for the next couple of hours, until you see that Alex has sent you a link to a video of one of the interviews he did. In the interview, he reveals that he wanted you to do the show because you inspired the line. He'd based most of the line on your style but gave it a more urban and even modern spin for the youth to wear, as he claimed. Essentially, you were his muse. It all kind of made sense why it all came easy to you. It was based on you. You found it flattering and that made your heart skip a beat, joy filling every fiber of your being. Someone did notice you when everybody else did not.

So, you did some press and eventually, the show came around. You'd been at the venue all day, helping prepare and get everything accounted for. You were running this thing and it was a tight ship, so nothing could go wrong. Everyone got there in time, everything got put together in time, and by the time it was an hour until showtime, you were beyond tired. You had a total of thirty models, a great variation of everything and you felt proud. You cooled down before the show, deciding to get yourself sort of ready for post-show pictures and interviews. When the show started, the sound of Rico Nasty's Roof began to play and the crowd began to cheer. Then the first model walked out; donning a pair of acid-washed distressed jeans with a cropped multi-color jacket, a white Lexicon tee, and some platforms. Her hair was in messy space buns and she wore some neon-pink sunglasses to match the jacket. Right as she reached the end of the runway, another model came out, wearing more from the fall line. You watched from behind the walls of the facade to see the Avengers, your dad, Pepper, and Peter all sitting front and center. Nowhere in sight was Ally. Good.

People seemed to enjoy the fall portion of the show, and it was probably the most fun part to direct. The fall line was more of a modern urban thing, something the cool kids are wearing today and it's very in your face. It's very 'break shit and rage' as you've explained before and you've always had a knack for alternative dress styled. It was punk meets hood and you've always thought that was a cool style. Eventually, after a good twenty minutes, that portion of the show was over. Alex came out and announced a short five-minute intermission, wanting to prepare and transition into the second portion smoothly. In that time, you ran around making sure everyone was good to go. Once the five minutes were over, the sound of Fleetwood Mac's The Chain begins to play. This was the fall portion, which to you was a more formal style. It was warmer in tone and in use, and it was more sophisticated. It still had a youthful feel, but it was more formal than the other stuff. Nonetheless, everyone at the show seemed to dig it. By the time the show was over, everyone was giving the models a standing ovation. At the end of it, you and Alex came out, earning the loudest cheers of all.

At that moment, you felt the rush you'd been searching for. You found your calling and it was everything you expected it to be and more. Once the crowd silenced, Alex wrapped an arm around your shoulder and hugged you close as he took the mic and took the time to address the audience. You watched him proudly as he spoke, one of the biggest smiles on your faces.

"I especially want to thank my best friend, my partner, my muse, Y/N Stark," he speaks, looking back at you as the crowd cheers. "For taking up the job as director of the show. She did an amazing job with everything and through this process, we became closer. She's so creative and I'm glad she agreed to this. My show wouldn't have been the same, and it probably would have failed if it was anybody else."

He hands you the mic and you take it, watching as everyone silences down. You begin your speech, just saying thank you to everyone and it makes you feel emotional deep inside. "I also want to thank the Gianni's for taking me in during this process, making me feel like family and taking care of me during all the long nights and early mornings," you say, taking your father by surprise. "I also want to thank my father Tony Stark and the Avengers for unknowingly fueling my necessity for this show, otherwise, I don't know if I would have done it," you continue. "Most of all, I wanna thank Alex," you pause and notice the way Peter looks jealous as you turn to Alex. "For putting me on this project, for trusting me to do this, and for being the best friend a girl could ask for. For encouraging me to do my own thing after this and for helping me realize some things. Anyways, thank you all so much!"

By the time everyone is off stage, all sorts of people are coming up to you and to Alex, asking you all sorts of questions. All you want to do at this time is get to the afterparty and get a drink or something. Maybe get a burger or some tacos on the way, but you just want a meal and a drink. So, you get through it all as quick as possible and by the time you're done, the only people left are your dad and the Avengers. They're all standing together, some of them holding flowers, others holding cards. You chuckle, feeling a little nervous to approach them. However, you do it anyway, because you can only ignore them for so long. Apparently that limit was about two months. So with that, you walk up to them, a small smile on your lips.

"I have a feeling we're all in for a lecture," Tony speaks up, handing you some flowers. Your nod, eyes wide and words ready to go.

"Yeah, thank you, you whole bunch of actual assholes," you say, making them all go wide-eyed and gasp at your bluntness. "For ignoring me for nearly eight whole months over some intern who was just supposed to be a temp. I don't know if any of you notice, but Ally? I hate that bitch! And I rarely hate anybody! So, the fact that you all ignored me for her at some point in time? That's kind of annoying."

"We didn't ignore you for her-" Steve begins.

"Yeah, we didn't mean to, at least." Natasha comments.

"Hm, let me think," you say, letting it all out now. "Natasha the last time we talked was literally four months ago. Steve, you haven't talked to me in six. Peter, you've ditched me for Ally, which was kind of heartbreaking because I liked you and I kind of thought you liked me back, but ya know, and she's so much prettier than me, so that doesn't help either," you ramble. "Pepper, you basically wanted me off that project and then you got Ally's help, so that was fun. Bruce, Thor, Sam, Bucky, and Wanda, all of you immediately ditched me for Ally, so that kind of sucked. And most of all, my dead old dad. That little argument with you kind of hurt because you were so betrayed that I was working with Arlo Gianni, but behind closed doors, he'd been taking care of me better than you had for the past couple of months since Ally came around. Plus, you only ever talked to me to tell me that Ally would be taking over one of my projects or that I'd have to cover for you in a meeting."

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Tony asks, mirroring everyone's guilty frown.

"I wanted you guys to realize you were shutting me out," you say, the tears you'd been holding in for the better part of eight months now finally coming out. "I was always initiating interactions with you because no one paid me the time of day. But then I finally decided to stop, see if it made an impact, and apparently, it did not, because no one sought me out for so long. But that day of the Halloween Charity meeting, Alex emailed me right before it, asking me to direct this for him. I was initially going to decline, but once the meeting was in full swing and then Peter was walking in laughing with Ally, and then everyone began to tune me out to start talking with her, that was what caused me to snap. You all shut me out, so I took the hint and fucked off. I accepted Alex's offer and for the first time in months, I'd felt happy. I felt happy, I felt needed, I wasn't alone, I wasn't someone's second or last choice. And it felt good."

"Y/N," Tony whispers, stepping closer. "We're so sorry, sweetie," he says sincerely, pulling you into his arms. Everyone begins piling around, hugging you as well. "I'm sorry we didn't realize that earlier. I didn't know we made you feel that way, it wasn't anyone's intention to make you feel worthless or anything. I just told everyone to back off a bit because I didn't want you thinking that SI or Avengers stuff was all you had to do all the time."

"But did I ever complain?" you ask, and everyone goes silent. "I didn't mind helping with that. I loved doing all that work because it meant that I was always hanging out with one of you guys. So you can only imagine how shitty I felt when suddenly, no one was talking to me. Trading me in for Ally."

They all stay silent for a few seconds. Then the wave of apologies came around and you find yourself laughing.

"Look, it's fine. I'm over it now, my grudge has gone away because I found my calling, I found my thing and I'm happier now. I found my best friend in this world, and I found my group of people away from my initial group of people and I'm just over it. But please from now on, no ignoring me? Or else I'll pick up a new passion out of spite."

Everyone is quick to agree, hounding you in another giant group hug, assuring you that they all still cared. After that day, Ally didn't become much of a problem. She still worked at SI, still in her current position, but you managed to stay away from her. Everyone would talk to you like normal and Peter went back to hanging out with you again, making sure to always comment on how he likes you and not Ally. You'd hold it over him for some time, opting to torture him with his crush just a bit longer, just because you're a sadistic spiteful person. In the end, it all worked out as you began to take the fashion world by storm.

Leave feedback, requests, and asks, please!!

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark x stark!reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #reader insert #request #stark!reader #stark!daughter #iron man #spider-man #marvel fic #mcu fic #spiderman imagine #tony stark imagine #slight angst

2K notes · View notes

tourmvlines · 4 years

Text

alright gang, finally got my shit together long enough to write this bad boy up. yes, her blog is still ugly so look away ❤️ anyway, first things first, i’m jo, i’m twenty-one, i’m in pst, and i’m very excited to be here 😌 check below the cut for more info on miss sloane because my app is too much of a mess to be linked :p thank u for ur time

[ COURTNEY EATON, CIS FEMALE, SHE / HER ] shh ! sloane jennings, the twenty year old second year public health major from chicago, illinois, is known as a tourmaline around here. she was invited to join because of her versatility and her academic record, and now, they’re here to stay. she reminds me of a cigarette tucked behind your ear, sitting on the rooftop to watch the sunset, & wishing on dandelions.

pinterest . statistics . connections .

basics.

full name: sloane alice jennings birthday: june 13th, 2000 astrology: gemini sun, scorpio moon, libra rising mbti: enfp-a, the campaigner positive: adaptable, intuitive, loyal negative: flighty, naive, hedonistic

about.

click here for sloane’s full bio.

sloane was born to pepper liu and dinah jennings, lesbian activist icons of their day who mostly lived by allowing the wind to move them. they made friends everywhere and for the first years of sloane’s life, they bring her with them everywhere

eventually, pepper and dinah settle down and decide to live somewhere permanent for sloane’s sake and so she could go to school somewhere. they decide on san francisco, california, a city that’s near and dear to them. unfortunately, they die in a fire before sloane can ever start school

after that, sloane is sort of passed around old friends of pepper and dinah, a series of unfortunate events style. the key difference however is that there is never any doubt that sloane is so deeply loved. everywhere she goes, she’s always well taken care of

they always tell her stories of her mothers and it’s never a case of sloane feeling abandoned or like she’s been struck with bad luck just because she’s raised so well

in high school, she does a million extracurriculars. she tries water polo for a little bit, she was in a band for the last two years of high school, she literally does SO much community service, she tries everything because she’s genuinely interested in everything

most of her motivation for college was because of her mothers’ desire for her to do something good with herself because otherwise she never would have gone but she applied and she got into strathmore!

on the society: she honestly never even knew about the society until she got the invitation because it’s just not something that would be on her radar, but now that she’s in it, she sees how much good it can do for her. that doesn’t mean she takes it as seriously as other people do but she’ll go along with all their bells and whistles.

personality. adaptable, intuitive, loyal, flighty, naive, hedonistic

a lot of my inspiration for sloane comes from the concept of angels doing unholy things and this post in particular, not every single bullet point, but you get the gist.

i think sloane’s most defining character trait is her ability to adapt. her mothers were never able to stay in one place for very long making friends everywhere they went, and so all of sloane’s guardians came from everywhere. she was raised with a tremendous amount of care and love just because dinah and pepper were so loved, so moving around was never that much of an issue. she’s always been able to make the best of her situation and has always found ways to make homes no matter what city or town she’s in.

one of the things about sloane is that she’s never been alone. she was orphaned before the age of ten, but the friends of her mothers have taken a lot of care in making sure that she’s never felt lonely. relying on people and having a sense of community is so essential for sloane wherever she goes. it’s one of the few things she appreciates in the society.

going off on that, people have looked out for sloane her entire life and i think that’s a large part of the reason why she chose her major. it was important for her to do something that would allow her to serve her community and improve it. she’s never really cared that much about fame or wealth or whatever, but she’s always cared about people and doing good by them. a lot of her upbringing was about making do, making your voice heard, standing by your people and these are lessons she carries with her everywhere

just another thing to say that i do think the way she was raised has made her more trusting of people in general and can make her a little naive because she operates under the assumption that, more often than not, people look out for others when that isn’t always the case

that isn’t to say that she doesn’t know how to be alone, however, because she does and she’s honestly really good at being alone. people in her life made sure she knew she wasn’t alone and sloane has always been very aware of that, but the fact still stands that she’s an orphan. sloane has always been content with being on her own. even if she stayed with people who had kids her own age, she of course made fast friends with them but would also spend a lot of time on her own just because she is a little strange.

i do think there’s a sort of scrappy charm to sloane. she isn’t rough around the edges but she isn’t all prim and proper either. there’s something very weathered about the way she carries herself, like she’s already seen the whole world and experienced so much. and in a lot of ways, she has tbh

i guess one of the other things is she’s sort of… strange? in the most approachable way possible. sloane truly walks to the beat of her own drum and does whatever she likes but the fact that she’s so unapologetic about it and so open about it makes it easier to befriend her. strange in the sense that she’s superstitious, doesn’t really have a filter, and generally doesn’t follow trends of any sort. like i hate typing that because i don’t mean for her to be a ‘i was born in the wrong generation’ type of girl but i just think she can be a little intense sometimes LMAO

i know i’m circling back, but i think a large part of why she’s so adaptable is because she doesn’t do much changing between places. like her core is unwavering and she makes space for herself, but she knows how to read people and that is what changes. the way she treats and interacts with people changes based on how she sizes them up and she’s pretty good at sizing people up so they tend to feel more comfortable with her

despite sloane being unapologetic about her life, i do think she tends to be more on the private side. like yeah, she doesn’t hide anything about the way she acts and doesn’t water herself down for people but it’s rare for her to talk about herself for too long. she’s more likely to ask people questions during a conversation and ask about them without really giving anything away herself

headcanons.

has been smoking cigarettes since she was super young after she stole a pack from her guardian at the time at the age of 12, is most definitely going to die of lung cancer

she used to play bass in her band in high school because she’s cool and sexy

superstitious. avoids cracks on the sidewalk, throws salt over her left shoulder, carries a rabbit’s foot, the whole deal

kids love sloane. they always have. even babies always take a liking to her even if she’s a stranger. the one who can always get the fussy baby to calm down and sleep

loves abba!!!! mamma mia is her dream broadway show like it feels like something she would come up with

always fidgeting or shaking her leg or playing with her hair, like literally cannot sit still for the life of her and has always been super restless

so extremely punctual that it surprises most people. sloane seems like the type to always be late to things but quality time is her love language, so she always always shows up to things on time because she never wants to miss out. this is more about her seeing people, but it does carry over to other commitments because time is so precious to her

spends a lot of her time doing community service. she believes in helping people okay! every winter, she cleans out her closet as best she can and hands out coats or blankets to people on the streets. even if she’s never had much, this is pretty important for her. she almost always tries to spare some change when she sees homeless people.

she volunteers at the hospital because she’s a health major but she also just loves hanging out with the babies

her favorite picture is of she and her mothers at a protest when she was five years old. she’s sitting on pepper’s shoulders and she’s missing a tooth. dinah’s kissing pepper on the cheek, and they all just look so happy.

she’s got three piercings on each ear and a cartilage piercing in her left ear; she loves jewelry and earrings and changes them frequently

she wears whatever she wants or whatever’s comfortable; like it honestly just depends on her mood but she DOES wear her docs often and with anything she can think of because they’re her favorite pair of shoes

some favorites !

movie: kiki’s delivery service

tv show: community, freaks & geeks

book: normal people

season: spring

color: green

#opalsintro #this intro is kind of an L but i just wanted it up

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cockbiteproductions · 3 years

Note

6 and 9

nice

6. Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you?

I thought a lot about this question and I’ve narrowed it down to 3 answers which are posted here in experienced order:

Daredevil 1x10 Nelson v. Murdock - i rewatched all of daredevil with my roommate during the quarantine part of the spring semester and had a blast. foggy finds out matt’s secret (being a superhero, his super senses). the Betrayal of it all. the way they show them ugly crying instead of like letting out a single man tear. fuck. “then again, maybe i would. what the hell do i know about matt murdock?” the cutting back and forth between their present day fallout and their meeting and developing friendship. it’s SOOO much it’s like Specifically Crafted for maximum pain and i eat it right up. foggy: are u even really blind? the show: *immediately cuts to a flashback of them meeting and foggy learning that matt is blind* foggy: was anything ever real between us? the show: *cuts to the two of them thick as thieves and making plans to form their law firm together and matt almost revealing his secret*. matt: this city needs me in that mask, foggy. foggy: maybe you’re right. maybe it does. but i don’t. i only ever needed my friend. the show: *cuts to them starting their law firm together.* also the scene where ben is in the hospital with his wife and we see her forget him on screen. ouch. a lot happens in this episode but tbh i just focus on the Friendship Falling Out. it reads even better if you think they’re in love with each other, as i obviously do. man daredevil Hurts.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars 7x12 Victory and Death (series finale) - the panic in rex and ahsoka as they have to get off this LITERAL sinking ship filled with enemies that used to be their brothers, who had just within the week painted their armor, one of the few things they can customize to express themselves, to resemble her, who they know would never willingly turn against them, and a fucking wackjob killer wildcard. the growing tension and cornering is fantastic. when ahsoka takes off rex’s helmet and he cries because he’s facing killing his brothers. the cute droid squad. i’m always a sucker for non-humans. the fact that they had special orders to kill ahsoka, who was no longer a jedi, from palpatine, meaning he thought she was a threat still and she IS. she’s up there with obi-wan in terms of attachments anakin has. the action is truly epic (though i do have to say the maul ahsoka fight was better). the fact that ahsoka and rex didnt just leave the clones there and they dug graves for them. the shot of ahsoka in her cloak in front of all the helmets painted like her face on sticks will be burned into my brain forever. vader coming down to the planet himself much later and finding and igniting one of the sabers he as anakin LITERALLY remade for her. just the image of vader holding a blue lightsaber is going to be the death of me. a literal representation of who he was. it’s too much. it’s too much for me to deal with. i started crying as i was typing this. also when you look closely you can see his eyes through the helmet lens. it hurts man. (possibly) morai flying away as this happens. man, star wars can be good.

Supernatural 6x20 The Man Who Would Be King - ok so i know the question said year but man has show really defined my like last two months. as for this eps specifically, im predictable is what this says. i like tragedy and unhappy endings. i like gay angel. i like self-aware narration. i like reflection. i like the moment before it all goes wrong. this episode is the literal point of no return for s6 cas and i want to scream. it’s like when anakin cuts off mace windu’s hand. “but cas, youll call right? if you get into real trouble?” “and the worst part was dean, trying so hard to be loyal.” “for a brief moment, i was myself again.” “wonders never cease, they trusted me again.” “of course, i didn’t realize it at the time, but it was all over, right then, just like that.” “the big lie, the winchesters still buy it. the good cas, the righteous cas, and long as they still believe it, you get to believe it.” “it sounds so simple when you say it like that. where were you when i needed to hear it? / i was there. where were you?” “you know the difference between you and me? i know what i am. what are you, castiel? what exactly are you willing to do?” “i believe it’s what you would call a... tragedy from the human perspective... i’m asking you, father, one last time. am i doing the right thing? am i on the right path? you have to tell me. you have to give me a sign, because if you don’t... i’m gonna do whatever i... whatever i must.” like are you kidding me. not to talk about star wars even more but like. when rots novel said “the blurred line between our best and our worst” hhhhh. this makes me crave a 150k fic from cas’ perspective in season 6 where we see all the terrible things he’s doing for his well intentioned plan and how he keeps digging himself in deeper and deeper until it’s too late. and if i had the skill and time i would write it. alas.

runner ups: billions 5x05 contract (the epic lows of hearing taylor say they wanted to fire winston, the epic highs of 4d chess theory. the shitpost memes i immediately made. did not make the list as i made it a requirement that i actually enjoy the content in my winners list). supernatural 15x18 despair (lost out to man who would be king because i Care Cas, but i will never get over cas going out the way he came into this show; calling dean OUT on his bullshit).

9. Best month for you this year?

bro who can even remember the months. ok i just looked at my calendar and i guess i’ll say may. i finished up my spring semester the week before. clone wars finale aired then and billions season 5 started airing which was a “fun” time. had a job. things were alright.

#not rt #teresa answers stuff #nothingunrealistic1

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actuallykiwi · 4 years

Text

OC-tober 7th: Pre and Post Game Life

OC: Annie Sinclair, Alec Sinclair / Featuring: Codsworth, Nick, Hancock, mentioned names

Enjoy :)

***********************

Spring would always be Annie’s favorite season, but man she loved fall, too. Especially since the weather was just perfect for a Saturday.

October 23, 2077 was her first day off from the day care in weeks, and she was looking forward to it. She lie in bed and remembered telling the kids in her class yesterday about how excited she was to go see a movie with her best friend, walk around the park, and then have her favorite meal with Alec for dinner.

So when she rose from her pillow that morning, little did she know her plans would change drastically.

“Morning, Codsworth!” She said cheerfully as she approached him in the kitchen.

“Ah, good morning, mum! Your coffee; 173.5 degrees Fahrenheit, brewed to perfection!” The Mr. Handy robot spun around the counter, carefully holding the steaming mug out to her. She chuckled, “Why, thank you! Glad I actually have time to enjoy it today.” She carefully set it on the counter and prepared her blasphemous amounts of cream and sugar. Typically Codsworth would do that, but it was the one thing Annie insisted on doing herself. Mainly because he commented on the sheer amount of sugar and caffeine she poured into it each day.

“I’m assuming sleepyhead is still asleep?” She wondered out loud to Codsworth. “Yes, mum! Sir Alec is peacefully sleeping his day away, though I did hear him mumble something about space monkeys at around 4 am.”

Annie laughed. “He is a space monkey. But he did get off from his shift pretty late last night. I’m gonna check on him.” She grabbed her coffee and headed down the hall to his closed door. After gently knocking, she cracked it open just enough to poke her head in.

His soft snoring drifted into the hallway. Army fatigues littered the floor next to his bed from when he was too exhausted to change last night. “Bless your heart, Al. They’re working you to death. What exactly are they expecting to-?”

The doorbell echoed from the living room, causing Annie to jump and Alec’s snoring to pause for a brief moment, then resume quietly.

Annie placed her coffee back on the counter. “I believe it’s that salesman again, Miss Annie. He can’t take ‘no’ for an answer, can he?” Codsworth explained from the window. “He’s just doing his job, Cods. Let’s see what’s up.” She tightened her bathrobe and adjusted her bun before opening the door.

“Good morning! Vault-Tec calling!” A Vault-Tec Sales Rep approached her with an all-too-wide smile on his face. “Good morning!” She politely smiled back.

“Isn’t it? Just look at that sky up there!” He paused to gesture also-too-widely, and cleared his throat when she nodded awkwardly. “*ahem* You can't begin to know how happy I am to finally speak with you. I've been trying for days. It's a matter of utmost urgency, I assure you.”

“Oh, well, then I’m sure glad you came!” She laughed nervously.

“Yes ma’am, I am too. Now, I know you're a busy woman, so I won't take up much of your time. Time being a, um, precious commodity... I'm here today to tell you that because of your family's service to our country, you have been pre-selected for entrance into the local Vault. Vault 111.” This man bounced back and forth from being overly excited to clearly being afraid of something. Annie was beginning to be a little worried. “Oh, okay, uh, great! Where do we sign up?”

“You’re actually already cleared for entry! Just need to verify some information, is all, you know, in case of uh.. total atomic annihilation.” He whispered the last part.

Now Annie was worried. “Right, okay...” She took the clipboard and filled out the information, while tentatively watching him glance around nervously. “You don’t think that will actually happen, do you..?”

He took the clipboard from her. “U-uh, well it’s always better to be prepared, right?” He glanced down at the papers. “Wonderful! I’ll just run these over to the vault, and congratulations on being prepared for the future-!”

The door was closed suddenly as half-awake Alec leaned against it. “That guy again? Annie, don’t tell me you bought anything from him?”

“No, of course not! He was just telling us that we’re cleared for entry into that vault on the hill, in case of ‘total atomic annihilation!’“ She mimicked the sales rep, and Alec chuckled. “Yep, thanks to yours truly.” He grinned and wandered off to get his coffee from Codsworth.

“Well, I’m gonna go freshen up real quick.” Annie stretched and went to the bathroom for just that.

A few moments passed, and she was just finishing tying her bandana up in her hair when she overheard Alec from the living room. “Wait, Cods, turn that up.”

“What’s going on?” She asked as she entered the living room, finding Alec huddled by the TV.

“Followed by... yes, followed by flashes. Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions... We're... we're trying to get confirmation... But we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations... W-We do have coming in... That's um... confirmed reports. I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania. My God.”

The TV went black. Silence roared as Annie and Alec exchanged fearful looks.

Then all hell broke loose when the air raid sirens cried their woeful cry.

---------------------------------

How much time had passed? 1 day? 1 week? 1 year? She didn’t know. But when Annie opened her frosted eyes, it felt like it had been ages. A horrible gag escaped her throat when her pod suddenly opened, causing her to fall to her hands and knees and retch on the floor.

She took deep, heaving breaths and shivered. “That... was not a decontamination pod.” She muttered. The difficult part was standing up, as if she had forgot how to. But she was able to weakly get on her feet and stumble to her brother’s pod directly across from hers. Only, she wasn’t expecting to find it already open, and empty.

“W-what? Alec!?” She cried out, and turned to look around. “Alec!!??”

Then, ever so faintly she swore she imagined it, she heard it way off in the distance. “Anneka!!”

They made a promise to each other when they were little. A promise to only say each other’s full names when something was really wrong. And she knew, not only from her full name, but from the plain fear in his voice that something was very, very wrong.

“ALEXANDER!!” She screamed, and began staggering as fast as she could towards the exit. She only paused when the door wouldn’t open to cough some more, then promptly gained her footing and ran to find another way out.

The only thing that made her pause again was the site of the roaches the size of small dogs. And the several vault-tec-adorned skeletons littering the vault. “How long has it been...?” When she found the 10mm pistol, she was glad Alec taught her to shoot when she was in high school. It made the rest of her escape easier for her.

When she eventually found the Pip-Boy and made it to the elevator, it was coming down, when it should have been up this whole time. She called his name again, but when there was yet again no answer, she tentatively stepped onto the platform and let it raise her joltingly to the surface.

A thousand thoughts were swimming through her mind, so when she adjusted to the sudden sunlight, she wasted no time in jumping off before the platform even fully stopped and frantically began calling his name. “Alexander!!! Alec!! Al-...Al...”

And she took it all in. The world she once knew, decayed to almost nothing. All the green, gone. All the life, dissipated. She fell to her knees in shock. “A...Alec...” And the tears fell. The tears fell and the vocal cords were strained from agony.

Moments passed before she finally lifted herself from the ground, dusting off her vault suit, still damp with frost.

And a new fire burned in her. An inferno of determination to find her brother, and adapt to this new, terrifying world.

“Don’t worry, Alec. I promise you..” She adjusted her glasses and looked at the sky. “I will find you if it’s the last thing I do.”

------------------------

“And I did... didn’t I...?” She said quietly to herself.

Annie had been walking around Sanctuary, reminiscing about her promise, and where it’s taken her. In the backyard of her dilapidated house, a small, white handmade cross sit still on a mound, covered in wildflowers. And an aging military picture of Alexander Sinclair was pinned safely in the middle.

“I just wish I could’ve found you sooner. But, no sense dwelling on that, right? I’m happy for those last few moments I had with you.” She crouched in front of him and rubbed the picture endearingly. Tears trickled down as she smiled sorrowfully at him. “I miss you, Alec. Every day. But we’re making a peaceful Commonwealth here. You’d be happy.”

“Annie? Time for the speech, doll.” Nick called from the house.

“Oh, coming!” She wiped her face quickly. “Sorry, looks like I’m needed! I’ll be back soon. Love you.” She kissed her fingers and tapped them on the picture, then scurried back to the street where the crowd was waiting.

A soap box sat patiently waiting for her underneath the strung lights along the street, and the banner from the tree that read “United Commonwealth 1st Anniversary!” Everyone was chatting amongst each other until Annie took her place on the box.

“Everyone! Today we celebrate the 1 year anniversary of peace in the Commonwealth!”

A roar of applause.

She laughed. “I know our version of ‘peace’ may seem odd, but as tenuous as it is, we must celebrate every moment we have of it, which is why 1 year is cause for such a huge celebration!” Applause. “1 year ago today, I made an agreement with every faction, city, and settlement to compromise in all our endeavors. I met with each of the leaders, including the new mayor of Diamond City, Hancock of Goodneighbor, Preston of the Minutemen, Maxson of the Brotherhood, and yes, even the leader of the Institute, with whom we had the most... animosity. But they have agreed to stop the kidnapping, the experiments, and to leave the Commonwealth alone unless it’s to help us. By their terms, we also leave them alone, and help voluntarily with whatever they need should they need it. The Brotherhood has agreed to help, not control, with building up the Commonwealth defense. And the Minutemen are still setting up settlements, now with the help of the Brotherhood. I know there’s still some hatred amongst us, especially for the Institute. But we need to put that hatred aside if we’re ever going to thrive again. Continue to stand with me, with each other, and let’s continue making the Commonwealth a better place.” Hancock handed her a Nuka Cola. “TO THE UNITED COMMONWEALTH!”

“TO THE UNITED COMMONWEALTH!” There was another roar of applause, and everyone happily cheered, danced, cried, and just celebrated.

Hancock helped her down from the box and watched the crowd with her. “Good speech, sunshine. But part of me is kinda worried.”

“About?” She asked as she took a swig of cola.

“About this ‘tenuous peace’ you’ve worked so hard to achieve. I know you’ve got an optimistic way of lookin’ at things, but it probably ain’t gonna last. A year is lucky.”

“I know. That’s why we need to celebrate while we can, before someone disagrees with someone else, and then it’s back to square one.”

“Right. Then it’s the war all over again.”

She chuckled sadly. “Well, if it ever comes to that, it’s like Alec always said...” She took a long drink from her cola and sighed.

“’War never changes.’“

#fallout #fallout 4 #writing #oc #OC-tober

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dragonbat2011 · 4 years

Text

Reaching Out Till We Reach the Circle’s End — Chapter 5

For the chapter index: https://dragonbat2011.tumblr.com/post/621379453957865473/reaching-out-til-we-reach-the-circles-end-toc

A/N: Some dialogue adapted from S5E14: Devil's Due. Tolkien aficionados may recall that athelas is a healing plant native to Middle Earth. Knobweed appears in Brandon Sanderson's Cosmere series.

TW: brief mentions of past abuse. Nothing graphic.

Chapter Five

Rumple pretended to be asleep, as he watched his son get up quietly and make his way over to the hearth. He took a fresh brick of dried peat from the storage bin and set it on the embers of last night's fire, using a poker to push it about. Satisfied, Bae moved toward a covered wooden bucket carried it over to a modest-sized cauldron, removed the bucket's wooden lid, and poured its clean water into the pot. Rumple knew that Bae would have drawn two such buckets from the well in the square yesterday and would draw two more this afternoon.

Bae set the cauldron on the hearth over the fire. Next, he took several handfuls of an ivory-colored coarse-ground meal and added them to the pot. He started to move away, then glanced quickly at the bed where Rumple pretended to yet be asleep and added another two handfuls.

Breakfast started, the boy reached for his cloak, and slid his bare feet into a pair of patched leather ankle boots that waited by the wool-curtained entryway. He took a moment to lace them, stooped down, and picked up the empty bucket that rested in the corner near where they had been. Then, he pushed back the curtain and Rumple could see that dawn had broken now, as Bae slipped outside.

Rumple considered for a moment. His younger self would likely be abed for another hour or so—spinning didn't require one to arise quite this early. Still, when he did arise, he was certain to want to have a conversation that Rumple wasn't sure he was ready for.

Besides, he was loath to let Bae out of his sight now.

Rumple hesitated only a moment before pushing back his blanket, slipping on his own boots, and making his way out of the hovel. He fought down a wave of nervousness as he headed for the sheepfold, where he knew Bae would go. He only meant to observe, for now. But if his son spied him, he could always claim that he'd thought he might have left something behind in the straw last night, and was only going to look for it.

He was just pushing back the wooden gate, when he caught a snatch of conversation coming from the shelter. Bae wasn't alone.

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"You're sure it's no trouble," Moraine said, as she set down the bag of fleece, taking care that the top didn't open to spill its cargo.

Bae smiled, and then turned back to the ewe he was milking. "No, Papa has time. And," he added, "if you hadn't had oats to spare last winter, we might not have made it through." He sighed. "I don't know if we'll do better this year either."

"Your garden isn't giving enough?"

Bae hesitated. "Maybe it will by harvest time, but Papa says the soil's like us: overworked and can't get time for rest." He made a face. "At least, the mint and horseradish should come up; they can grow in anything."

Moraine nodded. "Mama says okra, too. I can let you have some seeds, if you like."

"Really?" Bae asked, smiling.

Moraine nodded again. "We can't really pay much for your papa spinning our fleece, but we can spare some seeds. Okra, mustard, I think chard too. Sparrow grass," she sounded apologetic, "remind me next winter; it's too late to plant it now." She hesitated. "I mean… if I'm still here."

"You're going away?" Bae couldn't hide his dismay.

Moraine sighed. "I hope not. But Mama and Papa think that if I can get out of this village, maybe they won't bother coming after me when I turn fifteen."

Bae didn't have to ask who 'they' were. "But where would you go?"

"We have cousins in Mare's Hollow," Moraine hedged. Then she added quickly, "And Papa thinks to wed me to one of them."

"Moraine!"

"Baelfire, I'm thirteen. At fifteen, the army will take me. U-unless I'm expecting a child. Or I've already become a mother," she added. "Aiken is twenty. And a blacksmith; the army wanted him for that more than for soldiering." She shook her head. "You know that in some villages, girls are marrying men old enough to be their fathers if it'll save them from being drafted. Seven years is… it's not so bad."

"Do you love him?"

"Baelfire, he's my cousin! Third cousin," she amended hastily. "Of course, I love him. But not like…" She broke off. "I met him once, when I was eight, at the district fair in Longbourne. He was nice, I guess. I mean, he didn't tease me or treat me like I was stupid or anything, but… well, it's not like we had much to say to each other." She sighed. "He was fifteen and making horseshoes with some of the other apprentices when we stopped by the forge. It was so noisy, I had to shout 'hello' so he could hear me over that hammering, and it was so hot, even out in the open. But he had a nice smile. And when he had time to come by Papa's stall later, he didn't talk down to me like so many other grownups did."

"Maybe…" Bae hesitated. "I mean, if it's not about love… Moraine," he took a breath, "we've been friends all our lives. Sometimes, I feel like you're the only person my age I can really talk to."

"I'm not your age, silly," Moraine smiled. "I'm three days older than you."

It was old banter and not really funny, but Bae smiled back just the same. "Look, we know each other, we get along… If you loved this Aiken guy, I'd understand, but if it's just to not have to go into the army, I…" He took another breath. "I-could-marry-you," he said quickly.

"What?"

"I might not be a blacksmith, but Papa's shown me how to spin; I can ask him to teach me more. I can sow and plant and raise sheep, and I know my way around a set of tools. And you wouldn't have to leave here. I know your parents would miss you if you did." He looked away. "And I know I would, too." He hesitated. "We're friends, Moraine. Good friends. Maybe that would be enough to start with."

Moraine flung her arms about him. "Oh, Bae," she whispered, "if it were my choice… I-I don't want to leave here either. And I'd miss you, too."

"We can talk to your papa," Bae said. "We can talk to my papa."

"I'll talk to him," Moraine said. "Usually, once he makes up his mind, it stays made up; I have to catch him in the right mood. And anyway, there's a year and a season 'til my fifteenth birthday. There's no hurry; we haven't even had a reply from Aiken, yet. If he says 'no', then Papa will be of a better mind to listen to us. And even if Aiken says 'yes,' it'll be at least a month—three or more would be likelier—before he could come for me or I could go to him. There's no reason to rush."

"Okay," Bae said. "Hey. Maybe the war will be over by the time he replies! Then for sure, you won't have to leave!"

Moraine heaved a sigh. "Wouldn't that be wonderful?" Then, in a completely different tone of voice, "It's getting late. I still need to feed the chickens."

"And I have to put milk in the porridge before it boils dry," Bae nodded. "Thanks for the goat cheese and the eggs."

"Thanks for saying your papa will spin our fleece. I'll bring okra seed next time; you plant it late spring."

"Got it. And Moraine?" He hesitated for a moment. "I-I'll see you in the square in a bit, when I drive the sheep to the common."

Moraine gave him a dazzling smile. "I hope so."

Bae watched her leave. Then he went back to his milking.

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As the sheep-hut door began to creak open, Rumpelstiltskin spared a quick glance behind him and, reassured that his younger self was nowhere in sight, hurriedly teleported outside of the fold, behind the hut. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, truly, but now that he had, he needed a moment or two to collect himself.

He'd always done his best to shield Bae from certain harsh realities. In part, of course, it had been because any discussion of the Ogre War would have certainly led to questions about his own experience. His son might be the only person in the entire village who didn't yet know that he was a coward, and he had no wish to enlighten him. But of course, there had been cowardice involved in that very decision not to converse overmuch on the topic. Cowardice, and a foolish notion that if he didn't talk about the war, then perhaps, somehow, Bae wouldn't be drafted into it. Stupid, of course. He'd known that the Duke's soldiers would come for his boy eventually, but at the very least, he'd believed he'd been able to give Bae a sheltered childhood, more or less unplagued by concerns about going to war.

He'd just learned that he'd been a bigger fool than he'd ever believed. Of course, Bae would have known what was coming. And if he hadn't, then Rumple's failure to inform him, would have scarcely been a kindness on the day that the Duke's soldiers finally came. But Bae had known all along. And even understanding that his fate was set, he was ready to spare another that fate.

Rumple wiped his linen sleeve across his eyes. He'd always thought of Moraine as 'Bae's little friend'. It hadn't occurred to him that she was, even at thirteen, of marriageable age. And so was Bae, he realized with a pang. Oh, he'd known that, but he hadn't known it.

Did they love one another? Rumple wasn't certain. But they definitely liked one another, and not all love happened at first sight. Young people in their situation could do far, far worse than marry close friends, and…

And what was he even thinking? He knew full well that nothing would come of such childish plans. Bae had never approached him regarding the subject, which meant that either Moraine had never spoken to her father, or that her father had been loath to see his daughter wed to the son of a coward. Or they'd thought that they had over a year to make their case, when they had barely three months.

But they did have three months. And perhaps, that would be enough time… If he involved himself.

A new thought struck him. Zelena was still out there and not far away. She might not realize where she was, but she'd heard Charlotte Long-scar mention the name of this village. There was every reason to believe she'd come here to try to wrest the dagger from him again. Well, he clenched his jaw, just let her try!

And then, his blood went cold. Suppose she threatened the life of his younger self if he didn't surrender it to her? Suppose she threatened Bae? She'd already killed him once.

For a moment, he fretted. Then he remembered two things: first, Zelena currently had no magic. And, when last he'd seen her, she'd had no weapon either. Maybe she wasn't in any position to threaten anybody, at least, not yet. But second, he'd informed Charlotte Long-scar that Zelena's green-stone choker was more than some decorative trinket. When a bandit chieftain obtained an item of magical value, she had two options, either to use it or to sell it. And since, from what Rumple knew of such artifacts, Charlotte wouldn't be able to use an artifact of such power—not with no magic of her own, at any rate—she would choose the second option.

Aside from Zelena herself, there was only one person in the area who was likely to be in the market for such an item. And, Rumple reflected, he just might be of a mind to make a deal. Or change one…

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Zelena had been on the road at daybreak, bound for the 'Longbourne' place that the hostler had mentioned the night before. She didn't know what she'd find there, but she hoped that it would be a bigger place than this sleepy, run-down little village where people didn't seem to know what lay past the next town over! Fancy not even knowing the name of your kingdom!

She'd saved a hunk of bread and a pear from last night's dinner and ate both on the way, but the sun was nearing its zenith and she was perspiring heavily when she finally saw something in the distance. Unlike Pen Marmor, Longbourne was a fortified town, surrounded by a high stone wall. There was a bored-looking sentry at the gate, who waved her through with barely a cursory glance.

Instead of proceeding on her way, though, she flashed him her most winning smile. "I was just wondering whether you could direct me to your hall of records?"

The sentry blinked at her. "Pardon?"

Zelena kept smiling. "Where would one go in this town to see a map of the kingdoms?" When the sentry continued to scrutinize her, she continued, "A long time ago, I met someone from another land I'd like to find again. Only, at the time, his kingdom was at war with another and I don't know which side of the border his town would be on, now. And well, since the countries all seem to change names when they change rulers, I was hoping to see a current map." She prayed he wouldn't question her further, but she knew that the Enchanted Forest was hardly a peaceful place. Some kingdom always seemed to be at war with another. Not like Oz, with one central seat of power in the Emerald City; once she'd deposed the Wizard, the entire land had been hers to rule—apart from a few stubborn pockets of resistance she'd very nearly stamped out.

The sentry stared at her just long enough for her to begin to grow nervous. Then, he gestured for her to pass through the gate. "You might try the merchant's guild," he said finally. "They'll know who they trade with. They may have the information you seek. If not, about five leagues back the way you came is the Duke's summer palace. His Grace keeps a library, and you might petition his clerk for permission to peruse it."

Zelena wanted to shriek her frustration. She had indeed passed that palace on her way, and had she known that what she sought might be there, she could have saved herself another fifteen miles in the hot sun! Well. As long as she was here, she might as well seek out the merchant's guild so that this jaunt wouldn't be a complete waste of time. She mumbled a thank you and started forward.

Now, the sentry moved into her path. "Generally speaking, Goodwife, when one requests information, it's customary to show a mite of gratitude when one gets it."

Zelena forced herself to smile. "I'll remember that. Thanks for the advice."

"I didn't just mean to the guild record-keeper," the sentry answered, still blocking her.

If she'd had her magic, she would have turned him into a monkey by now, or some other creature equally amusing. But she didn't. "I was set upon by bandits yesterday," she said, letting a bit of her frustration show. "They took everything."

"Those gloves look well-made," the sentry replied. "Kid leather?"

"Well, they won't fit you!" Zelena exclaimed.

The sentry merely peered down his nose at her.

"Forget it!" she snapped, starting to turn back the way she'd come. The sentry seized her arm and spun her roughly back to face him.

"I gave you information in good faith," the sentry snarled. "Now, you can pay me for it, or I can have the watch here in moments. I'm sure they'll be interested in the business of a woman, clearly a stranger here, asking all sorts of questions she has no business asking, because if she did, she'd already know the answers."

"You're mad!" Zelena hissed. "If you really believed that, you wouldn't let me pass for a pair of gloves!"

"Don't matter what I believe, Goodwife," the sentry said. "What matters is what the watch will believe when I turn you over to them. They might merely ask you a few questions of their own and let you go. They might just turn you back out the gate. Or they might decide to question you in detail… and at length." The sentry drew the words out slowly and Zelena had no doubt as to what he truly meant. Her step-father might have knocked her about a few times—particularly when he'd been drinking—but interrogation via torture was something altogether different.

"All right," she snapped, struggling to pull off the gloves while he kept his grip on her arm. "All right, here! Take them!" She gave a little involuntary yelp, as he snatched the gloves with his free hand and propelled her through the gate.

When she looked back in fury, he touched his cap mockingly and smiled. "Welcome to Longbourne, Goodwife."

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At first, Rumple wasn't certain he could find the way; it had been centuries since he'd trod it, after all, and he'd only paid three visits to the place in total. But he recognized an odd rock formation here, and a twisted lightning-charred tree there, and it wasn't long before he found himself approaching the healer's tent.

The tattooed man was standing in the open stirring a cauldron, and from the fragrance emanating from the pot, he wasn't cooking up anything more magical than breakfast.

"Fendrake," Rumple said quietly.

The healer turned slowly and his eyes grew slightly wider. "Your circumstances have changed since our last meeting," he remarked. "In more ways than one, from what I can see."

"They have," Rumple nodded. "The man I was, the man you remember, was both mortal and moral. But he was a man in a desperate situation," he continued, a chill creeping into his words. "One you took full advantage of. Now, I admire that a great deal. Full points. However… I don't like carrying debt."

Fendrake shook his head slowly. "Unfortunately, Dark One, the contract is binding. Even if I wanted to change it, I couldn't. You owe me."

"Oh, I'm not disputing that, dearie!" Rumple chuckled, as a bit of his other persona struggled to the surface. "I wasn't saying I don't pay my debts. But, perhaps, we can come to some other accommodation. You saved my boy's life when there was nowhere else to turn, and for that, I am grateful. So, perhaps… I can save yours."

"If you mean to say you'll kill me if I don't void the contract—"

"Oh, I'll do that in about a hundred years or so," Rumple cut him off. "But I wasn't talking about voiding it. Say, rather, that we might alter the terms in a way that can benefit us both. And then, I won't have to come back that other time," he added.

Fendrake's eyes narrowed. "What did you have in mind? And if you didn't come here to kill me," he added, "then what did you mean about saving my life?"

"You know, dearie," Rumple giggled, "most people would've asked the second question first. But I don't mind getting that answer out of the way. There aren't many in these parts with the resources to purchase items of great Magic. But then, there aren't many people in these parts who ask one hundred gold pieces of people who've likely never owned a single such coin. So. I've reason to believe that you're about to be offered an emerald pendant—one that can store, stoke, and harness… magic. It was stolen yesterday from an adversary of mine, and sooner or later, she's likely to come a-poking her head through your tent flap in search of it."

"Interesting," Fendrake allowed. "Though I'm not sure I understand the relevance."

"The pendant currently holds her magic. All her magic. So, if she learns you have it, well, I may be a seer now, dearie, but even if I weren't, I'd predict that she'd either try to kill you to reclaim it, or ask to apprentice herself to you in hopes that studying magic with you would reawaken her currently-blocked-off talents. Once she does that," he giggled, "then she'll kill you!"

Fendrake nodded slowly. "I won't say I don't appreciate the warning," he said. "If all is as you say, then we may have a deal. But she might never learn of my existence. And she might not be quite so ruthless as you paint her."

"Yes, well, you made a claim against my second-born child, with no idea whether I'd ever have one, so I shouldn't think that dealing in hypotheticals ought to be a problem." Rumple pointed out, still smiling. "However, before I entered into that agreement with you, you had offered another one: one hundred gold coins for a draught of Atlanthean rat snake antivenin." At a snap of his fingers, a spinning wheel, a stool, and a bucket of straw appeared beside them. "Would you accept gold wire instead?" He chuckled, sat down at the wheel, and took up a piece of straw, which he threaded onto the bobbin shaft. A moment later, a piece of gleaming gold dropped to the ground and the healer picked it up, his eyes widening. Rumple flashed him a knowing smile and reached for another piece of straw. "I can spin you as much as you like…"

Fendrake's eyebrows climbed even higher. He gestured to the long handle of the wooden ladle in the cauldron. "Stir this a moment," he said. "I'll be right back." He retreated into his tent and returned almost at once, carrying a balance scale, a rolled up piece of parchment, and two wooden bowls and spoons. He laid the parchment in one balance pan. "One hundred gold coins," Fendrake remarked, "weighs approximately seven pounds. When ten times that weight is in this balance pan," he continued, gesturing toward the empty pan, "our contract will be nullified."

"Ten times the original price?" Rumple asked, a trifle tetchily. "Still driving hard bargains, I see."

"It's been nearly a decade since the deal was struck. Delaying the payment increases the debt. But in appreciation for your warning," he set the golden straw he'd pocketed moments earlier down in the empty pan, "Let's dispense with two of those years. Fifty-six pounds."

Rumple smiled. "As I said, Master Fendrake, you do drive hard bargains. Still, over the years, I've had occasion to learn for myself that magical ingredients can run a mite pricy. Especially in a backwater region like this one. Fifty-six pounds will buy you a lot of athelas and knobweed. But let me make you a counter-offer: I'll add back one of those years, for sixty-three pounds. And the next time some poor villager comes searching for a cure for their ailing loved one, you'll give it to them at a price that they can actually afford to pay."

Fendrake smiled. He waved his hand over the contract and flame of azure blue played over it for a brief instant before it flickered out. "The deal is struck," he said.

"Then I suppose I know how I'm spending the rest of my morning," Rumple sniffed. He passed the ladle back to the healer and headed for the wheel.

"Wait a moment," Fendrake called, staying him. He ladled a fruit-and-grain porridge into one of the bowls and handed it to Rumple. "There's no charge for this," he assured him, "nor for additional bowls, should you desire them." At Rumple's raised eyebrow, he shrugged. "You'll be at this for hours. I imagine you'll want sustenance at some point."

"Just to be clear, dearie," Rumple said suspiciously, "when you offered additional bowls…?"

"I meant for you to ladle more porridge into the one you're holding, yes." He smiled. "You're right. I do drive hard bargains. But I also try to state my terms as clearly and straightforwardly as possible and I do my best not to… shall we say, use my customers' natural perceptions to deceive them."

A surprised smile flashed briefly across Rumple's face. "Then I thank you," he said, lifting a spoonful to his lips. After his second, he looked at the healer once more. "You have that emerald already," he guessed, "don't you?"

"Of course."

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When he'd been caged, first in his own castle and then later, in Zelena's storm cellar, he'd thought to himself that if he ever got free of her, it would be a long time before he'd so much as look at another spinning wheel. After days, weeks, months where—apart from the witch and her gloating and taunting—the thing had been his sole pastime, he'd grown thoroughly sick of it. And yet, here he was, volunteering to spin for hours on end, and actually enjoying himself.

Every straw spun was bringing him that much closer to his goal. Every straw spun was paying down a debt that had hung over him for decades—and had he ever considered that an option like this one might have been available, even a century from now, perhaps he wouldn't have chosen another way to clear accounts.

But then, he'd been more impulsive back then. He hadn't fully appreciated that, simply because he had the power to make others suffer, it didn't necessarily follow that he needed to indulge it. There were other ways. At times they were harder ways, but they were also better. The man he was today might have resented the healer for taking advantage of his desperation. But he'd also saved Bae's life. And spared his own, when Rumple had stolen upon him, bent on murder and theft.

Moreover, Rumple had recently returned from the Realm of the Dead. And while he hadn't met Fendrake there during his short sojourn, he had encountered other souls with unfinished business, prevented from moving on until all scores were settled and all debts paid. At the time, Rumple had believed that his time in that realm was due to unfinished business with those few individuals who had reneged on their deals with him, and whose debts were small enough or irrelevant enough that he hadn't troubled himself to hunt them down. But today, when he'd realized that the healer was the likeliest buyer for Zelena's pendant, it had occurred to him that, perhaps, his own debt hadn't been discharged after all.

And Rumpelstiltskin always pays his debts, he reminded himself, as he reached for another piece of straw. A moment later, he set another strand of bright yellow gold into the balance pan and the scale began to glow with an iridescent, pearly light.

Rumple shielded his eyes with his hand for a moment, and when he removed it, the healer stood before him once more. Fendrake plucked the contract from the other balance pan and unfurled it. "Your obligation to me has been met," he intoned formally, holding the page by the upper corners. As he started to tear it, Rumple held up a hand.

"Wait! Please. Could I have it? There's someone I need to show it to."

Fendrake shrugged. "Such is your right," he said. "And to avoid misunderstandings…" From a fold of his mantle, he brought forth a goose-feather quill and a small vial. Bracing the contract against the side of the still-warm cauldron, he wrote the words 'discharged in full' in a careful hand at the bottom beneath the signature that Rumple had inscribed so many years ago and underlined it with a flourish. Then he held the document out to him.

As Rumple accepted it, he felt as though a millstone had rolled away from him. He wasn't entirely certain that he needed to thank the healer for the privilege of spinning more than sixty pounds of gold for him, but he did so anyway. Then, still smiling, he made his way back to the hovel, pausing only long enough to purchase some roasted chickpeas and cheese pasties—his contribution to tonight's supper.

When he pushed his way through the curtained entrance to the hovel, however, his younger self rose heavily to his feet, leaning on his walking stick with a grim expression.

"I think it's time you explained yourself," he said firmly, though Rumple noticed that he was keeping his other hand jammed in his pocket where its shaking would not be so obvious. "I grant the resemblance is unmistakable and we well might be related, but my mother left before I was ever named. You claim to be my uncle, but yet, after tracking me down, you choose to bed down in my sheepfold."

"I told you—"

"Oh, I know what you told me. I just don't believe a word of it. So now," his younger self continued either not caring or not knowing that his knees were trembling, "you're going to tell me who you really are, why you've come, and," for the first time Rumple heard the slightest of quavers in his younger self's voice, "what your interest is in my boy."

#ouat fanfiction #ouat #char: rumpelstiltskin #char: baelfire #char: Zelena #char: Morraine #char: Fendrake #papafire

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