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wintermelonbear · 3 years

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Artistry

Pairing: Damian Al-Ghul Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Trope/s: Childhood Friends, No Powers AU

Summary: A story in which two seemingly dissimilar eight-year-olds build bonds through their love for martial arts. Written for the MGI Trope Tussle 2021.

Words: 4808

Damian and Marinette first met when they were 8 at his mother’s Wushu studio. At first glance they were an unlikely duo, before meeting in martial arts class their social circles ran entirely parallel with one another with Damian attending a private school that was a feeder for Gotham academy and Marinette attending a public elementary local to her, but they truly brought out the best in each other.

Damian had grown up inside his mother’s studio, working day in and day out from the tender age of 3 to improve his weaponry and martial arts skill. His mother and father, divorced but trying their best to co-parent for his sake, each preached to him about the importance of self-discipline and concentration. When his mother and her father, Ras himself a master martial artist, had competed in Wushu they were national champions. As a third-generation practitioner of Wushu, Damian had a lot riding on his shoulders.

Marinette’s mother had practiced Wushu as a child in China. When she first arrived in France she found herself disappointed that there were no local Chinese martial arts centers, let alone Wushu training centers. Sabine always thought it would be a passion she could pass down to her future child, but there was only so much she could teach on her own. However, as fate would have it, after a falling out with Tom’s father Roland the Dupain-Chengs found themselves in a city not too far from Gotham, New Jersey. Sabine was pleasantly surprised to find that the martial arts scene was much more alive there than it had been in Paris. However, between the bakery and her young daughter Sabine had little time to spend practicing martial arts. It wasn’t until Marinette’s kindergarten teacher suggested that Marinette be enrolled in a sport to better her hand-eye coordination that Sabine finally put her daughter into formal martial arts courses.

At first, everything was fine until it became apparent that Marinette was progressing much faster than her peers, despite her typical clumsiness she was surprisingly adept at martial arts. Sabine wasn’t entirely surprised as while Wushu was difficult to teach within the confined space they had at home, she still took the time to practice Tai Chi with her daughter on the weekends, providing Marinette with martial arts fundamentals and self-discipline. With Marinette’s slight inclination for martial arts paired with her hard work she was outperforming her classmates and even some of the older kids at the studio she went to. Eventually, Marinette found herself ostracized by her peers, but her teachers at the studio refused to advance her because they had an in-house rule where children could not be advanced more than two years past their age group. Tom and Sabine knew that pulling Marinette out of the sport entirely was off the table, the pure joy that spread across her face every time she mastered a new trick was proof enough that she was in love with the sport. So they set off to find a new studio to train at, where Marinette’s needs as a budding martial artist would be met. After looking around for a while, they decided to give Talia’s Wushu academy a try despite it being a little over a 30-minute drive from their house.

In regards to the first year of their friendship, Marinette would describe it as very professional, and almost nothing more. It took a while for Damian to become more cordial with her. When asked, Marinette would say “Damian didn’t like me, but he tolerated me enough as a partner because there was only so much practice he could have done alone.”

At first, Damian did not like Marinette at all, in fact, maybe he even hated her. When he first met her, Damian thought she was like every other “talented” kid that came into his mother’s studio, only to realize talent alone would get you nowhere in the sport of Wushu. On her first day, she immediately took up the spot next to him at the front and center of the class and offered him a warm smile, “Hello my name is Marinette, I’m new here.” Damian returned her greeting with a harsh tut of his tongue and the turn of his head, he was there to train, not to make friends. Marinette’s expression was aghast, but she quickly recovered and mumbled a soft “okay not talkative then…this is going great….” Damian suppressed an eye roll, simply because he knew his mother would not tolerate that in her classroom.

Against every one of Damian’s expectations, Marinette proved herself to be a hard-working individual. Eventually, after seeing her work on her technique and tricks after class during open gym hours, seeing that she wasn’t relying purely on natural ability and truly was putting in the effort to become a better martial artist, he began to tolerate her. The first time he returned her daily “Hello” with the nod of his head Marinette’s facial expression went from neutral to shocked to absolutely beaming. Damian simply raised his eyebrow and continued with his pre-class warmup.

Over time Marinette had grown a deep respect for Damian; she wished he was a bit friendlier, but despite their rough start Marinette realized early on that, while gruff and unfriendly, Damian was kind in his own way. He always pointed out when someone’s technique was wrong so that they wouldn’t hurt themselves, he always helped bandage someone up when they were hurt, and he always stayed after class to help his mom clean up. Most people would think he did it out of obligation or his mother’s demands, but Marinette loves people watching, and even after just a few months Marinette has observed that Talia would rather Damian use the time to better himself and will insist that she, or one of their workers, handle the menial tasks.

It was not until Damian saw Marinette work through her struggles that he gained respect for her. While Wushu is a largely performative sport where everyone’s moves are choreographed, Talia wanted to ensure everyone was also learning basic self-defense resulting in regularly held sparring sessions at the end of class. Marinette was a great performer, she was highly expressive and could easily recall choreography, but she had minimal exposure to actual sparring and her reflexes were not as sharp and trained like the others. She managed to win against her opponents in the first few classes by utilizing her creativity, but eventually, her lack of experience caught up with her and in her third month at the studio, she began her losing streak. Looking at her lose to her opponents time and time again he couldn’t help but wonder to himself, “will you still be here tomorrow?” Growing up in the studio, Damian knew that most of the people who were considered to be “gifted” had a tendency to drop out the moment things no longer came naturally to them, they grew frustrated with themselves and then with the sport. At this point, he figured he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Instead, the stage was set for her to become the most prevalent figure in his life.

Despite being in the same classes for over 3 months Damian and Marinette had never sparred. It was actually quite odd that they hadn’t yet sparred, the pairings for the most part were random. Talia reasoned that with the right circumstances even someone who seems weak could win; it was important to never underestimate an opponent and lower your guard. After bowing to one another their eyes met. If you asked them as adults they would unabashedly say that they love the other’s eyes, it was like staring at the calm before a storm. Their eyes were clear, fierce, and piercing. Despite being clearly disadvantaged Marinette showed no fear. She met his first few strikes blow for blow and even managed to evade a few of his strikes with a few unique tumbling passes – something Damian noted that she excelled in. He could tell she has been studying him, observing his strike patterns from his previous matches. Rather than reacting to his strikes, she was anticipating them – a smart move considering her reflexes were lacking. Unfortunately for Marinette, this meant that one unanticipated fake was all it took to defeat her.

That night during open gym hours Marinette approached Damian on her own for the first time. “There is only so much I can practice on my own, please train with me.”

“Why would I do that?” Damian held his face firm, his mouth in a thin line and his eyebrow slightly quirked.

Marinette’s eyes steeled over with conviction. “Did you know that every time you get up from xie bu you duck your chin down in your struggle to regain balance? It’s obvious you’re trying to shift your center of gravity. Instead, try leaning on your front leg from the beginning. The first few times you try this method, you should put a ball between your chin and neck to keep your head held up until you get used to it.”

“How did you–?”

“Notice? I love observing others, I can help you. There’s only so much we can practice on our own. I need help with my reflexes and you need someone who can review your performances. We can’t do this alone. You don’t have to like me, you just have to work with me. What do you say? Deal?”

“Tch. Deal.”

At first, their conversations mainly consisted of Marinette’s one-sided chatter during their warm-up, breaks, and cool-down stretches. It took a while for Marinette to get Damian to open up, but once she found the right topics she found that he was strongly opinionated about almost everything and shared quite a few hobbies with her. While Wushu was the common interest that brought them together, they were much more alike than they thought. They both enjoyed art, video games, and superhero shows to name a few common interests. Damian would say he would want to be a hero without any powers, someone who relies on their own skill to punish evil-doers. Marinette on the other hand would love to be a magical girl who could save others without causing too much damage. After hotly debating the topic of normal heroes and powered heroes, Damian and Marinette came to an agreement that both sides had their own set of struggles and perks.

Damian and Marinette found themselves spending more time with each other both inside and outside of the studio. After arguing over which type of paint was superior, Marinette was team watercolor because of its varied use, relative cheapness to oil paints, and blendability where Damian was a more traditional artist who believed that the blending capabilities of oil paint were just as good, if not better, and their longevity was worth the cost, the two decided to settle it with a paint off. Art sessions quickly became a biweekly tradition between the two, whenever the Gotham botanical garden would have a new exhibit Marinette would insist they go to sketch the flora. Damian quickly found that Marinette was almost as passionate about plants as he was about animals, with the way she flitted about the garden he couldn’t help but wonder if she had been something like a ladybug in her past life. There were also plenty of weekends spent sketching Damian’s pets, though Marinette would note that no drawings could capture what good boys Titus, Alfred the Cat, Jerry the Turkey, and Bat Cow were.

Together they found new ways to integrate Wushu into their hobbies, Marinette had plenty of friends at school who loved art and plenty of friends who did Wushu at the same center, but Damian was the only one she shared nearly all her passions with.

With their art, they began making flyers and posters for the studio, and banners to cheer on their classmates at competitions – Damian would argue he only did this because it would increase morale, which in turn would produce better results for the studio. Marinette struggled with the posters at first as a lot of proposed designs incorporated traditional Chinese characters, she couldn’t even write in Pinyin! Tom and Sabine had prioritized teaching Marinette about her French roots, in the event that one day they decided to move back to France, and neglected teaching her much about Chinese heritage. Marinette still learned basic conversational phrases: yes, no, please, thank you, and familial titles, but she was nowhere near conversational or fluent. After realizing Marinette did not know how to speak Mandarin Damian made it his personal goal to make her at least conversational before they would begin to travel internationally for competitions. Many of the major Wushu competitions took place in China and if Marinette was going to be his partner in the couples division he was going to make sure she was able to converse with any interviewers they may meet, and that if she were to end up lost – he swears Marinette was born without a sense of direction – that she could find her way back to him or their hotel. He hoped that while working on the banners he could work in a few lessons on traditional Chinese characters and simplified Chinese characters so that Marinette could at least read signs. Apart from art, reenacting scenes from video game cutscenes and superhero movies became one of their favorite activities, it became a way to train while still having plenty of fun. Sometimes after mastering a new move-in Ultimate Mecha Strike, they would break out the crash mats to test if the moves in the game were actually physically possible.

Even the hobbies Damian didn’t share with Marinette he was willing to partake in, and the fact that he was trying meant the world to Marinette. Damian was rarely physically affectionate in the first few years of their friendship, and it was even rarer for him to vocalize his emotions, and so Marinette quickly learned that Damian had a tendency to express himself through his actions. A lot of people failed to see how warm and loving Damian truly was, but Marinette saw it in how he interacted with everyone. For example, when Damian’s eldest brother opened up an acrobatics and gymnastics center Damian immediately volunteered to design and paint a mural on the outside that would more easily catch attention, Marinette watched him alter the design day and night and sort through hundreds of color palettes to ensure the pairing was just right. She saw his kindness through his interactions with his family and hers, the painting of her mom and dad baking, a gift from Damian for their 20th anniversary, hung up in the living room was more physical proof of it. When Marinette began sewing he proudly wore her designs and when she began to take commissions, he always kept her business card on his body in the event someone asked about his apparel.

One of Marinette’s fondest memories with Damian was when they decided to host a bake sale to offset the cost of international travel for the competition team. It was near the Mid-Autumn festival so Marinette and her parents decided to make mooncakes. Damian had some experience in the kitchen helping his mother make baozi and baklava, but he definitely wasn’t as experienced as Marinette who grew up in a bakery, yet he still came over to help them with the first few test batches and to help design packaging. Watching him carefully weigh out the ingredients her parents listed and chat about his favorite flavors with her parents in French filled her with so much warmth. The kitchen was filled with banter as a discourse between traditional baked mooncakes and skin mooncakes arose. Marinette and Sabine preferred snow skin mooncakes, the chewiness pairs well with pastes like red bean and taro, where Damian and Tom were strongly on the side of the more traditionally baked mooncake, arguing that the crumble of the pastry paired with fillings like salted egg and lotus paste was clearly superior. Marinette was unsurprised that Damian was strongly advocating for traditional flavors, but her father? The same man who made mustard macarons? It wasn’t until Marinette suggested thousand-layer mooncakes were simply croissants with a pasty filling that everyone else was willing to set aside their different preferences to unite against her. While the thousand layer mooncakes and traditional mooncakes baked, and the snow skin mooncakes steamed Marinette and Damian got to work on the packaging. In order to reduce cost, they had ordered plain packaging and planned to carve potato stamps with Mid-Autumn festival motifs: the moon, rabbits, flowers, fans, and lanterns. Despite having seen how proficient Damian was with a blade in training, Marinette was pleasantly surprised, if not downright awed, by Damian’s precision with a knife. By the time Marinette had finished carving out one flower Damian had finished three lantern carvings. After finishing stamping the final package Marinette daringly pressed the still paint-laden potato stamp onto Damian’s cheek which quickly devolved into a paint fight. The picture of Damian and Marinette covered head to two in paint was proudly pinned at the top of her corkboard, Marinette would never forget the sound of the kitchen filled with laughter that day.

Damian’s parents were extremely supportive of this arrangement. Talia thought it was a great opportunity, open gym hours were busy and she couldn’t give all her attention to Damian, having a training partner could really help him grow. If they got along well they could even enter paired events together! Bruce was enthralled that his son found someone to spend time with other than his friend Clark’s son, Jon. Jon and Damian were great friends, but Jon lived in Metropolis and so the boys rarely saw each other outside of business galas and Skype calls. It was nice knowing his son had someone he could spend time with in person, Bruce was concerned that Damian’s interpersonal growth would be stunted by his lack of interaction with his classmates at school. To see his son being a kid, laughing freely, filled him with great joy, he knew that being the son of a billionaire and a top-notch martial artist had put a lot of pressure on Damian’s shoulders, but he never knew what he could do to help his son. Seeing the walls in Damian’s room at the manor fill up with pictures of him and Marinette smiling, Damian smiling, made Bruce figure that everything was going to be okay.

Sabine and Tom grew to love Damian like their own son with the more time he spent at each other’s houses. At first, they were a bit skeptical, they didn’t quite understand what their daughter saw in the boy, but they trusted her judgment and boy are they glad they did. Damian was like a missing piece of their family, despite his hard exterior, the boy was extremely loyal and caring, they could always count on him to have Marinette’s back. Sabine especially had a soft spot for him after watching him correct Marinette’s brush strokes on the banners, teaching her the differences between what she wrote and what he was writing. The two watched their daughter give herself wholly to this boy, and in return, he gave himself back to her and that was all they could’ve ever wanted for Marinette, to love and be loved.

As they grew older they shared more than just common interests: their dreams, their fears, and the pressure they faced from their families. Marinette knew what she wanted for herself – something Damian was envious of. When they were 11 to offset the competition costs, Marinette’s mother began designing and sewing their competition outfits. Once Marinette saw what her mother was doing she wanted to help, and she ended up falling in love with fashion design. From the age of 13 and onward Marinette designed all of her own stage wear, as well as Damian’s. Sabine would joke that with such a talented daughter it’s a shame they didn’t stay in Paris. Damian wouldn’t admit it – Marinette would – but the thought of possibly never meeting Marinette made him feel uncomfortably empty; he wonders how he bore with that feeling before becoming close with Marinette. Damian wasn’t sure what he wanted for himself, he would love to take over his mother’s Wushu studio, maybe even expand it, but he was always raised with the expectation that one day he would inherit his father’s corporation. Despite loving both options, loving both his parents, there was also a part of him that wanted something that was completely Damian, he had already spent so much of his life living in the shadow of his parents. It wasn’t until high school that Damian opened up to Marinette about this, as the time to make decisions grew closer Damian naturally grew more anxious about his future. Marinette rarely gets the chance to comfort Damian, oftentimes he bottles his emotions up until they’re ready to burst, and even then Marinette has to slowly coax him into talking about them, even if it is with his brothers and not her, she just wants him to feel safe with his own emotions. The first time Damian opened up to her about the pressure he felt as his parent’s only biological son she immediately swept him into her arms, stroking his hair she began to tell him about how loved he was. She told him “Damian I love you, your family loves you, my family loves you. I just want you to know how loved you are. I speak not only for myself, but for everyone who loves you when I say this, do what makes you happy. Your parents will be happy as long as you are, they trust that they raised you to make good decisions for yourself. Even if you don’t know what it is that makes you happy yet, don’t be afraid to explore your options; I’ll be right here by your side and I’m going to support you no matter what. You’ve told me before that even if you inherit the studio Maya would co-own it with you, or even if you inherit your father’s business you would be working alongside your brothers. You are not alone, the world is not riding on solely your shoulders.” Damian was completely silent, if not for the wetness on her shoulder and his grip tightening around her, Marinette would figure he was unphased. Marinette has known that she loves this boy, far past the platonic love she just expressed, but for Damian, it was at this moment that he realized that not only was he loved, but he was in love with Marinette.

“WELCOME TO THE WORLD WUSHU CHAMPIONSHIPS 2019 LIVE FROM GOTHAM, NEW JERSEY” roared overhead on the speakers.

Damian and Marinette were standing in a hall away from the main room where other contestants were preparing themselves both appearance-wise and physically. Marinette herself was fixing the crown braid in her hair. The women’s event would take place in the morning to late afternoon, where the men’s event in the evening giving Damian ample time before he needs to warm up to support Marinette. He gave Marinette’s ensemble a once over and with his cheeks tinged red he muttered “I like your costume, you look really cute”, quickly averting his gaze.

Marinette immediately flushed, almost as red as the silken top that adorned her torso, and brought the hands that were adjusting her braids down to her hips and leaned forward, exclaiming in a hushed shout as to not disturb the other competitors warming up, “Damian Al-Ghul Wayne, are you making fun of me? I just want to make sure that any pictures taken do not make me look like a hot mess. Could you imagine what could happen if Audrey Bourgeois sees pictures of me completely frumpled looking and cancels my apprenticeship?? Oh my God and then Parson’s will find out and rescind me and then I won’t be able to visit you at NYU!” Marinette’s hands now rested on her cheeks smearing away her perfectly placed blush. How Marinette managed to go from disgruntled to spiraling in less than a minute is still a mystery that still eludes Damian after years of friendship, but it was his duty to calm her down. He understands her nerves, they had spent the last few years dominating the juniors division and as they entered the senior division there was a lot of pressure for them to win there too. Unfortunately, for every person who wanted them to win, another five were praying for them to slip up, but now is not the time to be overcome by nerves, her turn would come soon and she cannot afford to be overwhelmed by nerves.

Damian fully grasped her wrists pulling her hands away from her face, “Marinette, genuinely you look stunning”. After that comment, Damian noted to himself that it seems like there was no more need for the blush she applied anyways. With the soft tut of his tongue, he smoothed out the harsh lines of her smeared blush using the pad of his thumb. He whispered, just loud enough for her to hear, “Don’t worry too much about your hair and makeup, the most important thing is your form”. Marinette leaned into his touch and gave a small nod, calming down from her spiraling thoughts, he always knew how to ground her.

“Contestant number 54 you’re up next!”

“That’s you; you might want to fix up your makeup real quick, but everything is going to be fine.” He handed her a bag with her cosmetics and a wipe and quickly clapped his hands around her shoulders to guide her to the main stage so she could focus on herself.

Fixing her makeup Marinette shot him a cheeky grin, “wish me luck?”

“You don’t need luck. Marinette you have the skill, you know that.”

“Next up is Marinette Dupain-Cheng from New Jersey, USA! She is definitely a fan favorite to win today on the Women’s Taolu floor. She is internationally known for competing not only in the women’s division but also in the couples’ scene. She’s been training for the individual event from the age of six and for the partner event from the age of nine with her studio mate Damian Al-Ghul Wayne, who is predicted to win the Men’s Taolu event. While we do not have a couples’ Wushu competition here, since turning 18 they have been dominating the senior international couples’ Wushu scene and have gone undefeated.”

Taking off her team jacket, with a quick nod to her parents, Talia, and of course, Damian Marinette strode to the center stage. Damian would never grow sick of watching her transform on stage, it was strikingly similar to the magical girl shows she had been obsessed with as a child. The moment Marinette stepped onto the mat her whole demeanor changed. Her back straightened up, her head would be held high, and most of all, the look in her eyes was filled with inextinguishable fire.

By the end of the event after getting changed Marinette and Damian were making their way to his car. Once Damian turned 16 and got his license, it became a tradition for them to go out for a celebratory meal together without their parents. “Marinette!” Damian heard a voice call out, Agreste he noted in his head. Marinette had met Agreste and Tsurugi while vacationing in Paris. While they weren’t the worst, in fact, Tsurugi was typically pleasant company, Damian was in no mood to socialize after the several rounds of interviews he had to endure after winning first place in Men’s Taolu. Many of the interviewers failed to understand that while yes, he had more opportunities to train as he is a third-generation Wushu champion, it was his hard work that got him to where he was, not his genetics.

Seeing Damian continue on to his car, not wanting to keep him waiting, Marinette quickly bid them farewell with a promise to see them tomorrow. “Hey wait for me!” Marinette called out, running after Damian. Despite his pride usually preventing him from heeding to his peers’ commands, Damian stopped in his tracks, his breath shallow and wondering why Marinette’s voice still makes his heartthrob despite having heard it call out to him for over 10 years. Feeling her hands latch around his arm gave him a sense of comfort. Her grip was strong and steady, yet still gentle. He couldn’t help but envision his hand in hers instead of his arm. The bouquet and hand-painted card in his car were waiting to see if she felt the same.

#Maribat #MGI Trope Tussle 2021 #Daminette #Damian x Marinette #please send help idk how to write #if by any chance Issa is reading this ILY #Team Childhood Friends

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better.

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood.

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more.

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment.

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen.

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them.

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.”

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?”

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius. I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.”

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!”

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.”

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus.

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies’ voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.”

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.”

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.”

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending.

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.”

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

#remus lupin #sirius black #bowie #felix martin #simon #sweater weather #coast to coast #lumosinlove #coops #hockey #adhd #blood on the ice #found family #prohibitionincurls #collab #fanfic #my fic

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

So I love your keeping up with the Skywalker/Kenobis au😍!!! It's adorable and it makes me so happy to read aaaand I wanted to ask what you think Satine's reaction is to Obi Wan basically getting himself a husband two kids and a dog like 2 months after she's left him? Like if they randomly ran into each other and Obi Wan is with his whole family and is carrying Leia, while holding Luke's hand and Luke is holding the dogs leash, while Anakin is I dunno monologing about something as he usually does

hi!!!! thank you so much for the prompt i love it <3 I thought a really long time about this prompt because I kind of knew what I wanted to do but I also didn't want to throw satine's character under the bus to accomplish it because i think from what Obi-Wan's told us about his marriage she's completely justified to want a divorce, so she's not necessarily a jealous ex in this snippet. But she's sort of angry, which i feel is fair!! i also (for reasons we will hopefully see tomorrow) changed your 'two months' to '3 years', so this happens 2 years after the Skywalkers move in, which is one yearish after the divorce! mostly because Something Else happens about 2 years after the Skywalkers move in and I have an ask cooling in my inbox asking about That that i want to answer tomorrow and these two felt like they fit together

(big sigh)(2.5k)(this is Obi-Wan's POV so its a bit pretentious and also a bit sad)

It’s a very strange thing, what the body remembers but the mind forgets.

“Obi-Wan?” A tentative voice asks from his left, and he knows that voice intimately. That voice had been at one time the most beautiful sound in the entire world. That voice had been what he heard before going to sleep, what he waited on tenterhooks to hear upon waking. He’d heard that voice cry, scream, laugh, gasp, moan--he knows that voice, and for a second his body responds the way it always has to that voice.

Butterflies erupt in his stomach and he turns to look at Satine for the first time in almost three years.

“Satine,” he says and clears his throat and tries again. “Hello there.”

She smiles delicately, as if she’s unsure of her welcome. Obi-Wan’s never seen Satine shy, but he supposes he’s never seen how she acts around her ex-husband.

He surreptitiously glances to where Anakin and the twins are standing in line at an ice cream truck. It had been a nice day, so they had bundled the kids and the dog into Anakin’s car and gone to the city park with loose ideas about kite flying. Perhaps a picnic.

Perhaps twenty yards from the parking lot, Leia had spotted an ice cream truck from her perch on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and the twins had successfully convinced Anakin to make a quick pit stop on their way up the park’s central hill. It had been a very easy sell. The sweet tooth is most definitely inherited, and nothing Obi-Wan really shares, so he had taken Chewie and gone to sit on a near park bench, graciously pretending not to hear Anakin tell his children to let the old man rest.

That had only been five minutes ago.

“Would you like to sit?” Obi-Wan asks politely, gesturing to the part of the bench he’s not taking up.

“If you have the time,” Satine responds just as politely. Obi-Wan wonders if this sort of false veneer of courteousness is putting her teeth on edge as much as his.

Do you remember how you left? Would you like me to recall the amount of things thrown by you, or would you like to do the honors? He imagines saying.

Only if you would be so gracious as to recite the long list of things you called me, he can imagine Satine responding.

That sort of conversation would be better than this. More honest. It’s a strange hurt, to realize you’re lying to the person you used to think you’d always be truthful to.

“Oh,” Satine says when Chewie immediately starts sniffing at the hem of her dress. “Is this...your dog?”

Obi-Wan fights the urge to wince. He had. Well. He had been quite against getting a dog when they’d been married. Or a cat. Or anything, really. He had vehemently protested the idea of a pet.

Of another living thing in their house.

“Ah,” he says. “Yes. His name is Chewie.”

Satine pets him with just the right amount of pressure to have Chewie tilting his head eagerly for more. “Chewie?” she asks incredulously. “I always figured we would have to name any dog or--child after some sort of literary figure.”

Obi-Wan pretends he doesn’t notice her hesitation. He has to pretend he doesn’t notice her hesitation. “I originally wanted to name him Dante,” he admits instead. “Leia compromised down to Danny, but I just couldn’t do that to the poor dead man.”

“Oh,” Satine says and then she’s quiet. Obi-Wan can just imagine the sort of things running through her head. He would deserve all the mean-spirited barbs she could throw at him now. He reminds himself that he understands that.

I hadn’t thought you knew how to do that, he imagines her saying. Compromising, I mean.

Or, does the dog hair everywhere drive you as crazy as you used to say it would?

Or, perhaps worst of all, how much has your library of dead mean kept you comfort these last three years?

Instead she gently strokes the dog’s head and refuses to make eye contact with Obi-Wan.

“You look well,” he says, breaking the silence first. He thinks she’s probably put in enough work in speaking first for a lifetime.

“Thank you,” Satine responds, tucking a piece of her ash blonde hair behind her ear. Obi-Wan catches a glint of a ring on her finger from the action. He doesn’t know if it was purposeful or not, doesn’t blame her either way. It’s been three years. Their lives are their own now. There’s always going to be those years where they...converged, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure he regrets them. He might never regret them, no matter what he thought shortly after the papers were mailed in.

After all, he’d never have met the Skywalkers if it wasn’t for the divorce.

“You as well,” Satine says, crossing her ankles. It’s her version of a fidget, Obi-Wan thinks fondly, and then wonders if he’ll ever forget that sort of information.

He smiles. “Yes, I’m...well.” He coughs and glances over to the ice cream truck. Leia waves at him from where she’s curled into Anakin’s chest, very near the front of the line. Anakin and Luke are looking at Obi-Wan with almost the same expression of pinched worry. Anakin most probably because he knows who Satine is. Luke because the boy has gotten quite possessive of Obi-Wan’s attention in the last few months.

Obi-Wan smiles slightly to let them both know that he’s fine. “I’m very well,” he tells Satine, turning back to her.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” she says, and it sounds like the most honest thing she’s said this entire time.

“Thank you,” he responds, and that’s the most honest thing he’s said today too. He knows she won’t understand exactly what he means, but it feels nice to say it anyway. Thank you for the years we were happy. Thank you for leaving before we could really start hating each other. Thank you for the divorce. Thank you for the Skywalkers.

There’s very loud footsteps on the pavement and then suddenly a blond blur is clinging to Obi-Wan’s knee.

“Obi,” Luke says very reproachfully.

Obi-Wan automatically fixes the boy’s fringe. “Yes, little one?” he asks, very, very aware of the way Satine’s posture has shifted from almost relaxed to preparing for battle.

“Daddy wants to know if you want anything. He says they have those pop--pop--cycles that you like.”

Obi-Wan switches his attention away from Luke so that he can raise a very scathing eyebrow at Anakin, who shrugs as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He had most certainly told Anakin that he was fine and that he didn’t want to spoil his lunch. Sending Luke over had not been a friendly check-in. It had been an invasion.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin’s son. “I don’t want to spoil my lunch.”

These words seem just as foreign to Luke as they did to his father, because he squints up at Obi-Wan before shrugging and clambering up into Obi-Wan’s lap.

“Who is she, Obi?” he asks, not quietly at all.

Obi-Wan sighs. And then resists the urge to sigh harder when he catches sight of Satine’s pinched face.

A thousand conversations rush back to him.

“My career has to come first, Satine.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“A child? At my age?”

“It’s Obi-Wan, not Obi.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, dear. Our lives would change. Fundamentally. We’d have to compromise, we’d have to figure out a way to be there for them whenever they needed it. I know people manage. But would we?”

“Don’t--”

“I’m sorry, darling. I don’t want children.”

“Don’t call me Obi.”

He understands perfectly why Satine looks as if someone has just fed her half a lemon. He does.

She’s run into her ex-husband at the park and settled in to have a civil conversation with the man, only to see that he owns a dog (which he had been against when they were together), has a child (Luke isn’t his, of course, but he can understand the confusion), and lets that child call him one of his most hated nicknames.

“Obi?” she asks, which is probably starting out small, something he is very grateful for.

“Who are you?” Luke asks more forcefully, gripping onto Obi-Wan’s shirt with his little hands. Of all the times for the boy to decide to speak up to strangers--

“I’m Satine,” Satine answers graciously. And then, “Who are you?”

“Luke,” the boy says, far less graciously. “Obi lives with us.”

“Us?” Satine asks, mostly to Obi-Wan. “You mentioned a...Leia earlier?”

“My sister,” Luke interrupts before Obi-Wan can, perhaps, explain the situation. “We’re twins.”

“Twins!” Satine gasps in a way that’s most definitely pointed and directed at Obi-Wan. “Obi, I hadn’t known you had twins!”

“I…” Obi-Wan starts to say that he doesn’t, but the twins have started shooting him very hurt looks every time he corrects strangers on the fact that the twins aren’t actually his. He’s mostly stopped correcting people now because Luke and Leia’s betrayed expressions are really, quite frankly, works of art.

“Obi-Wan!” a voice interrupts him to his right. It’s a familiar voice, one that he’s heard as he falls asleep, one he’s heard first thing in the morning, one he’s heard cry and yell and gasp and laugh, one he thinks to himself might just be one of the most beautiful sounds in the entire world.

Without his permission or even his consent, butterflies erupt in his stomach and he turns from Satine’s rigid expression to Anakin’s slightly manic grin.

“Anakin,” he says, standing immediately with Luke cradled in his arms.

“We got you the red popsicle because Luke never came back,” Anakin says, thrusting the icy treat forward as Leia tries to clamber on the bench to hand Luke his own chocolate-covered cone.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says, all thoughts about his appetite for lunch pushed out of his mind by the size of Anakin’s smile. “That’s very sweet of you.”

Anakin ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck, his face turning red like Obi-Wan’s popsicle. Obi-Wan thinks he’s never been this hopelessly endeared in his entire life.

“I should be going,” Satine says suddenly, standing up. Obi-Wan is a bit ashamed to realize he has forgotten her in the wake of the arrival of the Skywalkers.

But he knows he should not leave like this. They deserve more than this stilted sort of interrupted conversation.

Gently, he sets Luke on the ground despite the boy’s protests and chases after his ex-wife.

“Satine, wait,” he pants as he catches up with her.

“What, Obi-Wan?” she asks, voice strained and eyes a bit wet. “What else do you want me to see? What else is there left? I get it, alright. I get it. It was never you--it wasn’t--it wasn’t that you didn’t want pets or kids or--or all of it. You just didn’t want them with me. It was me. All along.”

She turns away, wiping frantically at her eyes. Obi-Wan isn’t sure if he’s ever felt worse.

“No,” he insists, reaching out to touch her forearm, painfully aware of how public they are right now. “No, you’ve got it wrong. It’s not...it was never you. It’s just…”

He pauses and tries to find the words to describe the past three years of his life. That first year of despair and hopelessness and isolation. And then the way Anakin and his children had crept into his life like a summer sunrise in the dead of winter, unexpectedly and then slowly and then all at once.

Obi-Wan shrugs helplessly, at a loss for words. There’s no way to describe something like that to someone who hasn’t experienced it. “It’s just…them.”

Satine takes a few moments to breathe before she turns to face him. She’s smiling and it looks mostly like a grimace, but he’ll accept it as more than he deserves.

“Oh Obi-Wan,” she says, laying a hand over the hand he has on his arm. “You always had so many rules.”

Obi-Wan fights the urge to bristle, reminding himself that Satine has the right to say anything she wants to him today and the amount of hurts they’ve dealt each other still probably wouldn’t be even.

It takes him completely by surprise then when she hugs him. He hugs her back automatically, blinking stupidly further into the park.

“I’m glad you’ve found your exceptions,” she whispers to him as she pulls back with a sad smile.

“Satine,” he says, but he doesn’t know where he’s going with that and falls silent. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, leaning in to press a featherlight kiss to his bearded cheek.

“Glad to know I can still make you speechless,” she tells him wryly.

“Always,” he promises her, and she laughs. Obi-Wan is suddenly struck with a sort of gut-wrenching realization that she used to be his best friend as well as his wife. He had lost both in one fell swoop.

“I think I just put you in a world of trouble,” she smirks, tilting her head back down the path. “Your partner doesn’t look very happy.”

“He’s not my--” Obi-Wan starts to say and then decides fuck it. He shrugs. “It was nice to see you again, Satine. I hope. I. I really am glad that you’re doing well.”

Satine smiles and squeezes his hand once before letting go. “You too, Obi-Wan. You too.”

When he gets back to his family, Anakin is staring intensely down at his shoes, while Luke and Leia are glaring just as intensely up at Obi-Wan.

“Who was that?” Leia demands immediately.

“Satine,” Luke relays to her, as if the word means one hundred terrible and tragic things.

“An old friend,” Obi-Wan corrects. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I just...I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Did you?” Anakin asks, strangely intent as he looks down at Obi-Wan’s face.

“I did,” Obi-Wan tells him. It sounds like a promise. Yes, seeing Satine had been a peculiar twist of fate, but it had felt like a goodbye. To her. To the last vestiges of their marriage. To the man he had been when he had been in love with her.

The realization feels like it should hurt, but it doesn’t. Instead of ruminating on it though, he holds his hand out to Luke’s sticky fingers. “Shall we?” he asks, as Anakin falls into place on his other side, Leia held firmly in his arms. “It’s a fairly large hill, are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Yes!” Luke insists enthusiastically, all thoughts of the blonde woman his Obi had been talking to immediately forgotten.

“Perhaps by the time we get to the top, we’ll be prepared for lunch,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin wryly. The other man laughs, but his eyebrows stay pinched. Obi-Wan has the strangest desire to kiss them smooth, to lean over and kiss Anakin’s face until he’s blushing and laughing and light as he knows he can be.

But it’s very obviously not the time and place. Such a step forward needs both a proper time and place. After all, you may have multiple loves of your lives, but you only ever kiss each of them for the first time once. And Obi-Wan is pretty sure he’s only got the two; he’s not looking to mess this one up.

#asks #obikin #KUWSK #Keeping Up With The Skywalker-Kenobis #two days after this ficlet #obi-wan accidentally kisses anakin as he's leaving the house #anakin probably would react better to that if he hadn't spent the past 48 hours worried out of his mind that satine and obi wan #are gonna get back together #anakin to padme: i mean how can you meet him and NOT fall in love with him i dont understand #padme: i mean im not in love with him and ive met him....#anakin: and i don't understand!!!!!

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amymel86 · 3 years

Note

Hello! Do you have any bits of your awesome writing to share for WIP wednesday?😍

I just saw this anon!

And thank you for asking <3

This is a bit more of this as yet untitled 'post-apocalyptic/fertility/modern arranged relationship???' fic. The first bit I posted on tumblr is here and as before, some things are not yet decided (like town names) and things may change...

“Are you sure this is what you want to do, darling?” Her mother’s voice on the telephone was a balm to her soul.

Sansa’s finger brushed the soft vivid petals of the small potted iris she’d bought at the store today. The iris symbolises hope, wisdom and courage among other things and she prays that the pretty purple and yellow bloom will lend her some of those. “I’ve got to try something, Mum,” she says, turning her attention to the two separate bundles of paper in front of her. Two men, two candidates, two different futures. Sansa had filled out all the matching service’s extensive questionnaires and scrutinised all the information she could find on the program. It seemed simple enough – you’re rewarded for helping to repopulate. In turn, the authorities help to pair you with someone who should be a good match dependant on all the information they have about you. The aim is that this new generation of children are raised in the traditional family unit. That had appealed to Sansa. “I can’t seem to find the right guy all on my own anyway,” she said into her phone.

“How do you know it will be safe, though?”

“It says here that my situation will be monitored by my own caseworker. I can call them any time I want. They’re not just going to drop me at the guy’s house and just leave us get on with it.”

“Hmmm... tell me about them? These men that they’ve narrowed down for you.”

“One’s called Waymar, he’s a financial advisor here in the Vale,” Sasna pauses, looking at the man’s photograph on his paperwork before fishing out the other. “And the other is called Jon, he owns a farm in the Reach.”

“None in the north then?” Her mother has been itching to get her back home. “I just wish there was a way to know that either of them were good men, Sansa. That’s all I want for you.”

Sansa put the two photos together. Two possible fathers for her child.

“That’s what I want too.”

***

“Shit! Holy fucking shit!” Jon says to himself, hanging up from his phone-call. “Mance!” he yells, bursting out of his trailer to find the old man. “Mance! It worked! It fucking worked!”

He’d relented. When Mance first put it to him that he should sign up for that weird government breeding program or whatever the fuck it was, he thought the old man’s last brain-cell must’ve fried up in the sun. But if they were going to make it easier for them and it meant Mance could keep the farm (and Jon could carry on living there rent free), then it was worth a shot. So he had relented. He’d filled out what seemed to be a gazillion and one questions about himself, his politics, his views on family and finances and education and fucking... art and shit. These damned government people wanted to know everything about him down to whether he scrunched or folded his toilet paper it seemed. He’d even had to lie. He didn’t like doing it, but there was no way that a fertile was going to pick him if he didn’t. So, he fished out an old photograph – one taken before the bar brawl that lost him his sight in one eye, and he’d also lied his asscheeks off by claiming he had ownership of the farm. He knew – he knew – that these lies are just more things that were going to trip him up one of these days but with Mance urging him on, he’d signed that damn form and offered himself up for the program.

And now a fertile had chosen him.

Him.

Fuck, he might throw up.

This can go one of two ways. Either completely up Shit Creek without a paddle – with his lies and reality crashing down on top of one another, leaving them exposed... or, his fertile somehow looks past his deceits and sticks with him and they-... well, shit, he could actually become a father. No-one becomes parents these days, especially not ‘round here. Fertiles flock to the big cities, to men with bigger pockets, or they work for couples who can afford to pay them off in exchange for a kid or two.

“It worked?” Mance asks, rolling out from under an old Ford pickup that needed a new exhaust. “They sendin’ us a peach?”

Jon shook his head. “They’re not sendin’ you anyone, old man. An’ don’t call her that – they’re-“ Fuck, what did the council call them on all that paperwork? “Reproductively abled.” He’ll have to remember that if he doesn’t want to offend her.

“Well, shit,” Mance grins. “What did I tell ya? Knew your pretty face was good for somethin’!”

Jon frowns. “Ain’t so pretty no more though.” He might have to go get himself a patch to cover his milky, sightless eye. It’s fine most of the time since Mance is the only one he sees unless he’s going to drink at Hobb’s, but he certainly doesn’t want to put off his ferti- reproductively abled friend who’ll be arriving in three weeks.

“She got a name? Your new peach?” Mance asked, earning him a glare.

“Sansa. Sansa Stark.”

Mance grunts and nods. “Sounds fancy.”

Yeah... It did sound kinda fancy he supposes. Jon’s first reaction had been that it was a mighty beautiful name, but now he thinks of it...

“Shame we can’t look her up – see if she’s a beauty or not.”

Jon can’t remember a time when that was an option. He was barely 11 at the highest point of the virus’s hold. Government officials had deemed certain channels on the internet were causing more harm than good by spreading false rumours, incorrect statistics and completely counterintuitive medical advice. The whole thing was shut down, now deemed illegal, only to be reconnected again three years later apparently looking like a foreign landscape from the one before. The internet was no longer a platform to socialise, only government approved informative sites remained. Mance says it’s better this way – that all people used to do was post vain images of themselves for attention anyway.

Jon wouldn’t mind seeing a vain image of Sansa Stark right about now though.

Not that it mattered terribly. As long as they get along and she decides to stick around she could be as ugly as sin. In fact, she probably will be, won’t she? Most pretty ferti- reproductively abled women stick to the cities and its high-fliers.

It doesn’t matter, he told himself. You just gotta keep her happy here and-

“Mance?” he asks, an issue coming to mind. The man grunts in acknowledgement. “Where the fuck is she gonna sleep? She’s not gonna want to stay in my trailer.”

The man grins in response. “I’m glad you asked, boy. I’m glad you asked.”

***

Her caseworker was meant to meet her at the train station. It was quite a drive to the farm and he was meant to pick her up, make sure she’s safe and happy and introduce her to Jon.

That hasn’t happened.

“Please accept my apologies, my dear,” Mr Baelish said down the other end of the phone. “There’s been a mix up with my schedule. We can set you up for the night at a local motel or ask your match to come and get you. Which would you prefer?”

Sansa eyes the dirty looking motel across the street from the train station. Everything here at [[INSERT TOWN NAME]] seems a little on the... rundown side. Maybe the sooner she gets to the farm, the better. Plus, her tummy is all a flutter with anticipation to actually meet Jon. She’d wound up swaying towards Jon as a match due to a few reasons; 1 – he does not live in, around, or anywhere near Harry or his crazy mother. 2 – he owns a farm, and that had conjured up hazy daydreams of idyllic country life. Sansa may enjoy big nights out in the city, drinking her dirty margaritas and feeling her bones vibrate against the base beat in a nightclub, but she knows that’s not what she wants to raise a child around. A child will want to run barefoot through wheat fields and chase chickens and milk cows and –

Let’s just say Sansa has a few ideas and that they all helped to sway her away from city pleasures and towards farmhouse life. And Jon

And last, but not least, reason number 3 – Jon himself. Put side-by-side, his and Waymar’s photographs looked rather similar if truth be told, but Jon won out on something that Sansa just couldn’t describe. Looking at his photograph gave her goosepimples along her forearms because it was like he was looking right back at her. There was something in the depths of his eyes – a kindness? A wit? A strength? She’s not sure, but she couldn’t find the same qualities when she stared at Waymar’s likeness. And his answers too. His questionnaire was full of how he’d like to teach a kid how to walk and ride a bike and fix a... a tractor for heaven’s sake! And so her head was flooded once more of this idyllic life where they got up to watch the dawn stretch over the farmland and they’d grow their own vegetables and she’d bake a pie every day and it would just be perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Sansa glances around the near abandoned train station.

This doesn’t look so perfect right now.

“Could you please arrange for Jon to come and get me, Mr Baelish?”

***

It’s been an hour and fifty-six minutes precisely since Sansa last spoke to Mr Baelish to arrange her match coming to get her. An hour and fifty-six minutes of sitting on the curb, waiting, surrounded by her three suitcases. She’d started off by sitting at the nearby bus stop, purely because it was somewhere to sit and she had a clear view of the road, but after the rude bus driver insisted that if she’s sat there, she must be wanting to hop on his bus, Sansa decided to park her butt on the dusty, sun-baked curb instead. Her legs were beginning to numb and she was starting to get a headache from the sun beaming down on her head. The curls she’d styled into her copper locks have likely lost their hold by now. What a waste. Opposite, on the other side of the street, beside the dirty little motel, there was a tiny bar that advertised the fact that it hosted exotic dancers at the weekends with a blinking neon sign. Next to it was a hunting and fishing ‘emporium’ and beside that was a vacant store with an old dirty sign that read ‘Blouses & More!’. Presumably, the ‘& more’ still wasn’t enough to keep that fine establishment in business in this funny little town. At the end of the block was ‘Tarly’s Drugstore’ and Sansa had been debating with herself whether or not she should haul her suitcases over to go buy a drink and a magazine for about the last hour and fifty-five minutes.

But she hadn’t wanted to miss Jon Snow’s arrival.

Jon Snow, who seemed to be pulling up outside Tarly’s Drugstore in a dusty Ford pickup truck right about now. Sansa stood, expecting him to come right on over considering how long she’d been waiting for him, but she found herself wondering if she’d got it all wrong when she hadn’t caught a good enough look at him before he darted straight into the store.

Sansa is done with waiting. She grabs her smallest case and places it on top of her larger one, trying her darnedest to roll all her luggage across the road in a lady-like fashion. She could feel the eyes of several passers-by on her while her stiletto heels clip across the street. In turn, her own gaze fell to Jon’s cream-coloured truck. Its front bumper looked a little rusty and wonky too. There was a big gash in the leather of the bench seating on the passenger side. On the truck bed, there were a number of items, including a rocking chair that seems to have a couple of spindles on the chair-back missing, and a new double bed mattress wrapped in clear plastic. Sansa was almost done frowning at the state of the vehicle when the over-door bell of the drugstore tinkles.

“Holy shit,” he curses. And yes, it definitely was Jon standing right in front of her. Only... well... his hair was tied into a knot at the back of his head and.... and... he was wearing a black eye patch? “Uh,” he stood there, arms laden with bottles from the store as the gaze from his one good eye quickly darted down her frame and back up again. “You’re her, right? You’re Sansa Stark?”

Sansa found she could only nod, looking him up and down, like he was with her. He was in jeans with oil smears, some tough, heavy looking boots, a somehow pristine white vest and flannel shirt with the arms ripped off.

Speaking of arms...

Gods-damn! Sansa’s focus was momentarily derailed...

“Sorry, I-“ Jon starts before his grey eye drops to the floor and then returns to her, looking a little bashful. “I didn’t expect you to be so pretty.”

Oh boy. He may be wearing an eye patch right now but this man could win over a thousand girls with that smile, Sansa’s sure of it. She resists the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. She’s here to find out if they’re well suited enough to start a family together – she needs to keep her head and think rationally, not allow herself to be swayed by his rugged country boy charm. It was Harry’s looks that enticed her in the first place – and look how well that turned out for her?

“Thank you,” Sansa says, blinking back at him before his words truly hit home. “Didn’t they give you my photograph?”

Jon shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

Huh.

“Did they show you mine?”

Sansa bites her lip and gives a nod.

Jon grimaces. “So I guess you weren’t expecting this?” He points to his patch.

Sansa shakes her head. “No... did you... did you do something to injure it?”

Jerking his head, Jon begins rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. “It’s a long story... but... it ain’t gonna get any better, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“Oh.”

They stood, staring at one another for a heartbeat or five before Jon sucks in a breath over his teeth and glances down to the bottles he clutched to his chest with one arm. “I tried to get you some things to help you feel at home,” he says, “these are the nicest smellin’ soaps ‘n’ stuff from Tarly’s.”

“Thank you,” Sansa replies, knowing full well that she brought her Highgarden Floral Scents bathroom range with her.

Jon chews on his lip as he eyes her suitcases. “Lemme get those for you,” he offers before dumping the bottles in his arms into the truck bed and reaching for her luggage. Sansa’s heeled shoes seem welded to the spot. Jon notices. Scrubbing both hands down his face in resignation, he takes a step closer to her and Sansa realises for the first time, that he had dirt beneath his fingernails. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “It was a shitty thing for me to do,” he offers, his words low and husky. Sansa feels the timbre of his voice set off a trickle of gooseflesh down her spine. “I’m sorry.”

She blinks at him, momentarily confused.

“About this,” he explains, brows high on his head as he points to his patch. “I shouldn’t have sent that old photo of before this happened, but – fuck – even my ex-girl won’t acknowledge I exist anymore with this and I knew I shoulda been honest about it but-“

“This ex-girl...” Sansa suddenly found herself left with a sour taste in her mouth. “... does she still mean something to you?”

Jon licks at his lips, his eye falling briefly to her own. “No, ma’am,” he shakes his head.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #wip wednesday #but late #oops

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serenadeonacanoe · 3 years

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Honestly, I'd piss him off on purpose. (Namjoon x OFC)

Pairing: Namjoon x Original Female Character

Genre/Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, too tired to beta

Tags: Artist!Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae are the best flatmates, Enemies to Lovers I guess... more like brats to making out in the storage unit, OFC is an idiot.

Summary:

"Wow. Is that that grumpy artist behind you? Jesus. He really looks like a bit of a dick. And you are right. He really is hot..." Oh no. Speakerphone. Namjoon was standing behind me and was staring at me. Then at my phone. He let out a little laugh, then raised his hand to wave at Tae and Yoongi outside who were now also staring at him as if frozen, before turning around in unison. As if that would help. As if he couldn't see them. Or better even... couldn't hear them.

[...]

Mister Darcy has nothing on Kim Namjoon - that new and upcoming artist you probably already heard of (You haven't? How dare you? At least have the decency to pretend you have!). He is cold, serious, and rather good at making other people believe he is a prick. Especially Elizabeth Bennet - uh... Charlotte - is about to lose it because of him. Maybe in a good way. Man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

CHAPTER 1

Even the sound of my own nails rhythmically tapping on the top of the counter was annoying me. To be fair, it didn't need much today to blow my fuze that had never been particularly long in the first place. But after a week consisting of being belittled by old white men and endless hours of unpaid overtime I about had it. Welcome to the art world. You know well before you enter that the hours are horrible and the job market is more than frustrating, but you love art and you have good organisational skills, you are resilient, charming when it counts and tend to romanticize things even when you know you shouldn't. It's too late to turn around now.

"That is why I don't use an agenda or notebook. If something is important enough for me to attend I simply won't forget. I know you youngsters are all about the bullet journaling and expressing yourself by mapping out your life but it really is just another way to procrastinate instead of getting to actual work." For a second I considered throwing my damn notebook in the buyer's face, but that probably wouldn't have helped my CV and the new job I would have to look for starting tomorrow. At least I should have screamed at him a little. Mainly, that I didn't care, that I was on my period and my shitty shower in the shitty flat i shared had broken and no dry shampoo in the world had fixed my hair this morning and that god damn it, how the hell was I supposed to remember every phone number, every call my boss had to take, every art handling transport I had organized if I couldn't write it down somewhere. Instead, I smiled. Died a little on the inside and complimented him on the gift of his exceptional memory and asked whether he would like another cup of coffee.

"What a dick." Samantha murmured, more to herself than me, after the guy had finally left, which made me snort under my breath. She usually didn't say much but when she did it was usually pure gold. In the end, it didn't matter that he was. Didn't matter that everyone at the gallery thought the art he had bought from us over the last couple of months had neither been smart nor impressive purchases. Mainly expensive. And flashy.

"Doesn't matter now." I said in a sigh after a quick glance at the clock. It was Friday night and we were about to close. Since it was my birthday on Monday I had taken two days off, about the longest break I had had this year and I was looking forward to being the lazy slob for a few days I was maybe always meant to be. In silence we answered a few last emails, tidied up the desks and counters so that potential buyers that would come in over the weekend wouldn't have to suspect anyone was actually working here. - A white desk. A huge Imac on it. That was all they needed to see, folders and pens and apparently especially agendas to be hidden away in drawers.

At five to eight I threw on my coat and Samantha just gave me a tired smile. Probably happy for me, just exhausted. "Have fun then? Don't get too wasted?" "Oh..." I said with a huge smug grin on my lips. "You have no idea... gonna take a bottle of Moët with me from the bar and drink it in my bathtub after eating a huge pepperoni pizza by myself and dancing to only the finest of 90s Euro Trash." I couldn't help it, apparently, I felt it necessary to give Sam a little demonstration, waving my arms up and down while swaying my hips in a way that I'd probably would not have if it hadn't been for a bit with an audience of a single person. Or maybe two?

A quiet scoff behind me and I quickly turned around, slowly lowering my arms, Sam biting her lower lip at the sight of me standing there like an idiot in front of HIM of all people.

Men didn't have to be old to annoy me. Or white. Yes, those were the ones that pissed me off most usually, but no one had managed to do so as much as Kim Namjoon recently. And now he was standing there, looking me up and down and stopping at my hair. The crazy too-much-dry-shampoo-because-the-shower-broke-hair. "Nice." He just commented and then looked over at Sam. "I'd like to take a last look before Sunday's opening if that is okay?" I stood there, my shoulders dropping, completely ignored.

"Uhm, actually, my babysitter has to leave in about an hour and I will have to be home before that." Samantha replied and I was impressed by how calm she stayed. "Of course." Namjoon said and gave her a slight smile. "Anyone else still around? Chris maybe?" Of course Chris hadn't been in today. It was Friday and unless important guests had announced themselves the owner of the gallery wasn't around on Fridays... "I am afraid not. But maybe Charlotte has a few minutes?" Well. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I felt a little betrayed. "Wouldn't want to keep anyone from their important Moët-Pizza-Dance Party plans." Namjoon replied before I could say a word. His voice once more dropping to a hushed, deep disapproval and his hands buried in the pockets of his rather expensive looking coat. Silence for a few moments and then he just walked off towards the room his exhibition had been set up all week. Showing without a further word that I would have to stay anyways if he wanted it that way.

"Well thank you for pushing me under the bus like that. Really appreciate it." "I am so sorry. But I was serious, I can't lose this babysitter. She got Jamie to eat vegetables. VEGETABLES!" Samantha suddenly seemed in a rush, grabbing her jacket and purse and showering me in promises she would make it up to me. Even though we both knew that wouldn't happen and wasn't necessary. Suddenly having to stay longer was normal. I just hated that it had to be today. And because of him.

I heard the door close behind Sam and I stood there for a second before putting my bag down again. Usually, I would have followed the artist, asking if I could somehow help, but nahhh... my ego was bruised up enough now, especially remembering the little dance. I closed my eyes. Fucking hated the guy. Always had. Well, not quite. I had thought he was cool for about five minutes when he had come in the first time. We had heard about him for quite a few months before, I think I had even seen pictures of him at some point, but those were nothing compared to him in real life. He came in all cheekbones and sharp chin and an all grey outfit, quick pace, observant gaze. Incredibly hot. He had also completely ignored me.

That's how it had started - a bruised ego. He couldn't know that it was my weak spot. Having studied art and its management and now feeling like a better secretary at times, when my colleagues and I were doing all the behind the scenes work while Chris worked very little hours and ended up with all the money and recognition. I was aware this wasn't the only field of work where this was the case, but it still frustrated me... I had imagined my life in the last years of my 20s to be a bit more glamorous than living in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city... spending my Friday night waiting for some rude artist dude to leave so I could lock up.

But what I perhaps hated most about him... was that I admired him. - Purely for his art. Really. Even the fact that he kept acting as if I wasn't around every time he came in didn't mean I couldn't admit that. At least to myself. The stories behind his huge colleagues were clever and thought through, but even without context, the pure aesthetics were mesmerizing. It was the kind of art that touched something deep inside of you and standing in front of it I always had a hundred questions. Whenever he brought in a new piece I was the first one to sneak a peek in the back rooms before it was hung.

"I don't get why you have such a problem with him. He is just... quiet. I think he might even be shy... stop being so sensitive and just ask him out already." I had almost strangled Sam for that comment a couple of weeks back. Stop being so sensitive. What did that even mean? Comments like that made me want to cry and scream at the same time, which probably would have been perceived as even more sensitive, but when had insensitivity become something to strive for? I had only kept quiet because I liked Sam and I knew what she had tried to say. At least I thought so. That I might have given less of a shit if I hadn't been rather attracted to Namjoon. Even though I had never mentioned it, she just knew. She knew if I didn't care about something I didn't waste my time on it. But if something made me angry or upset there was usually more to it. I hated that she could read me that easily. But he was still a dick and I still wanted to go home.

He took his sweet time. After an hour I walked up to him, a little speech prepared in my head about how he could come back first thing tomorrow. But when he turned around he just raised a hand between us to keep me from interrupting and turned away again. I hadn't seen that he was on the phone. "No, it's nothing, just one of the gallery employees." I heard him say and okay... if I wasn't about to explode before I was now. I stood there for a minute, fuming, and then simply walked back to the office area, my hand shaking when I started turning off the gallery lights one by one. It wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped but still felt good. Two minutes later the only lights still on were the one above my head and the one in front of the door. I would at least give him a clear direction where to head, he seemed to need it.

When Namjoon appeared out of one of the dark corners he looked even more annoyed than usual. Looking my direction through squinting eyes and his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. "Seriously?" he yelled my way and almost walked into one of the little flyer shelves. Wasn't the first time I had seen that happen to him though so maybe that had nothing to do with the light.

I felt oddly triumphant. By the time I had put on my coat and turned off the remaining lights, ready to finally lock up, Namjoon had almost found his way, standing in the open door, still on his phone. A little groan from my side when he didn't even notice that I was standing behind me went by unnoticed. Or simply ignored. But instead of the appropriate clearing of the throat or the maybe less polite squeezing past him, I just put my hands on his back and gently pushed him forward a bit, until his feet hit the pavement and he turned around. Dropping his hand with the phone in it, for a second he looked like he wanted to push back. Or trample me.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem, Charlotte?" His voice was hoarse. His eyes dark. God, he was hot. I hated him so much. "You." I simply replied and stared at him for a second, then turned around and locked the two locks on the door before stepping over to the alarm system. I couldn't help feeling smug because apparently, he knew my name. I imagined him staring at the back of my head because he was flustered, but couldn't be sure. All I knew was that when I turned around again a minute later he was still standing there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his lips pressed together forming a straight line and watching me.

"Do you always act like that at work around people who could get you into trouble?" He was right, he could get me into trouble. But I was too fired up now, my heart racing. "Is that a threat?" "An observation." "Only around the ones I don't like." "Cool." "Great." "Enjoy the dance party. Sounds shit."

And with those words he had turned around, coat flying open in the wind, unfortunately making him look really cool as he walked away and I ABSOLUTELY HATED HIM. I kept my mouth shut and just walked off in the other direction, realizing minutes later that my car was parked the other way, but I kept walking for a while before I finally turned around. It took a while to calm down and only cuddling up to my cat on the couch to trash tv finally did the job. But by then I had realized something I wasn't sure I liked too much. Yeah, I thought he was a prick. And yeah I should have just played it cool. Would have been much smarted in many regards. But I also had somewhat enjoyed myself in the most fucked up way.

Seeing that stern look, that intense posture as he was towering over me... man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

#namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #artist!namjoon

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beautifulletdownfics · 4 years

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Terrible to Meet You - A Harry Styles One Shot - Act 4, And love blooms in hearts not fields

Harry wants to get out of the house. Alex wants to get home.

Alex meets Harry at at crossroads. Harry meets Alex on a one way street.

A coffee shop OU fic feat. lattes, lamingtons & that Great Unfathomable Feeling.

Story Page Here Terrible to Meet You Playlists My Masterlist Here

7 Minutes 'It doesn't seem like long, but my whole world has changed'

Harry's insides were shaking.

He could feel it vibrating up and down his spine, circling his ribcage and then settling uncomfortably at the back of his throat. The nerves and anxiety sped around his body the closer to the Heathrow they got.

Tears threatened to pierce his eyes each time he looked over at Alex beside him. She was staring out the window saying silent goodbyes to London as they drove.

Harry really didn't understand how this moment came so quickly. He knew that Alex's feelings were as mixed as his. Harry wanted her to go home, she'd been trying all year. Heartsick and homesick, she'd pushed through living on the other side of the world to her family as the world suffered through something horrifying.

After getting the email, her last week in London was bittersweet. It was spent packing up her room and saying goodbyes for the second, third times. Harry helped her organise herself, and then put himself in isolation with Alex for her final 48 hours. She needed to present a negative COVID test to Australian officials before she could fly. Getting tested and locking themselves away together for two days was a special kind of magic, really. They didn't have to share each other.

After Harry, Alex was saddest to say goodbye to The Daily Dose.

She was going to miss Paul. Despite his eccentricities, he somehow managed to always keep the tone light and playful with her, and generally, the days passed quickly. Alex left Sydney for London after a gruelling university course left her feeling unmoored and unsure of herself, her time working for Paul had been an enormous time of discovery and healing for her.

He'd been a source of comfort and support for her, especially in the last year, and he was the shoulder she'd cried on far too often. Alex loved making coffee despite how most people saw the job. There was a satisfaction in the process, even in the daily grind—the cleaning, the busyness, the dead patches—and Alex liked leaving the cafe in the afternoon with the smell of coffee seeping out of her but a clean shop locked up ready for the next day.

She was going to miss that. But at the same time, Alex felt ready to go on and do more with her time now. The university degree hanging in her parent's study didn't feel like a straight-jacket anymore, and she was looking forward to finding work in her field.

London had been home for four years, though. She had many great memories here, not the least of which it was the city she flew the coup and found herself in. And the magic she thought was lost seemed to have redeemed itself in the final months of her being there.

She found herself, and then, she'd found Harry.

&&&

Saying goodbye to Harry was the hardest thing Alex had ever done.

They'd both cried the night before, but when it was time to part at the airport Harry was steadfast in his encouragement of her leaving. (Despite himself) He'd never once said he (seriously) didn't want her to leave, or that she shouldn't. He'd never implied it would spell doom for their relationship. Harry was 100% sure that Alex going back home to Australia was just the next line in their story, and certainly not the last one.

"You get home safely, okay?" Harry told her sternly, holding her face between his hands at the drop-off line. Both their masks were down around their chins, and Harry hated the tears he couldn't stop Alex from shedding, "This is a good thing, Al, you need to be home right now."

"I know," she nodded bravely, frowning as her chin wobbled, "But I don't want to leave—

"Shh, no," Harry shook his head and leaned closer, "You're not leaving me, you're going home.”

"When am I going to see you again though," she cried out, finally giving in to the (slightly) hysterical emotions that were bubbling just below the surface.

Harry's heart rattled watching the wave of doubt hit her. He pressed his lips into her hairline and held her for another long moment.

"You'll see me in Dubai on your stopover," he'd said, rocking her against his chest, his words hurried against the material of her shirt, “You'll land, use the bathrooms, and then FaceTime me. That's when you'll see me next. And then, you'll see me when you get to Sydney and call me again. Okay?

"Okay," Alex parroted quietly.

"Okay … You really have to go now," Harry looked behind her to where the doors to the terminal were.

She nodded and reached up onto her tippy toes, letting Harry press his warm lips against hers once last time. Alex squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold in tears but also the feel of him. His smell, where his body began and ended, how it measured up next to hers.

Their hearts reached out, trying to feel the other pressing through their chests from the other side. You're mine, you're mine, they said to each other.

"I love you," Harry told her, not for the first time.

Seeing the red wetness around Harry's eyes, Alex threaded her hands through his hair, "I love you, too."

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips again, "Go."

Harry's belief that they were going to be okay was unwavering.

If 2020 taught him anything, the whole world could change in a matter of weeks, so why not the entire outlook of his life as well? Why couldn't his meeting Alex change the course of both their lives moving forward? Something about meeting her felt like a one-time event, like something worth risking everything for. And he would, Harry told her numerous times that last week.

And as she walked away from him and into Heathrow, and Alex believed him.

&&&

Alex cried as her flight landed at Sydney International Airport.

She'd watched the harbour out her window as the plane circled the city, that perfect Sydney turquoise blue gleaming back up at her and it made her chest ache with relief.

Home.

Sydney airport was a stark change from the Heathrow she left behind. Their flight was met by police, abundance and army officers. It wasn't frightening though, Alex found herself swallowing back tears this time because she was so soothed by the fact she was back in Australia. Everyone was friendly and helpful, getting the flight of returning citizens through the airport and onto buses to the quarantine hotels. Alex's drove straight into the city centre and as soon as they started going by familiar places and landmarks she wasn't the only one teary in their seat.

"Well, here it is," Alex said to the phone screen not long after, tilting it around to show off the hotel room around her, "Home for the next fourteen days."

"Snazzy," Harry whistled as she pulled back the sheer curtains to reveal a staggering blue sky and then bright green treetops. He was sitting at his kitchen table with a cup of tea and a drizzly London morning just beginning, "And a view! Is that a balcony? Or a window?"

"A balcony but it's locked. I did get to smell the salty, beautiful harbour in the two-second walk from the bus into the hotel though." Alex settled on the bed in the middle of the room, the bedding crisp and clean underneath her, "I am literally inside this room for two weeks. No outside time. But I can see people outside walking around and having picnics in Hyde Park without masks on, so it'll be worth it."

"That seems unreal."

"It's like another world here," Alex agreed, yawning and finally feeling her body start to relax. "Anyway, how was your day yesterday? Wait, no, today?"

Harry laughed, "You've lost two days, I think. But it was good. I went and saw Paul, we had a cry together."

"Don't," she warned him, feeling the combination of over-tiredness and emotion simmering in her throat, "I've just travelled thirty-six hours, and I fucking miss you already, I'm not beyond completely losing it right now."

He smiled gently, "Have a shower and get into bed. I'm so glad you're there. Does it feel good to be home?"

"So good," Alex admitted, almost feeling like it was a dirty thing to be admitting to Harry, "Jess is going to come and wave at me from the park tomorrow with Noah. My mum's already sent a bunch of food to my room."

"You're exactly where you need to be," Harry told her.

Alex couldn't hold back her tears any longer, the guilt she felt—the pain of leaving Harry—wasn't any match to finally being where she'd wanted to be all year, "Yeah, I am."

&&&

Figure 8 'Lovers hold on to everything'

Four days into her quarantine, Alex started training herself to do headstands.

"It's harder than it looks! But I'm getting there now," She laughed, propping her phone up against the leg of the bed and crawling to the wall opposite. She was now on Day 11, and Harry had been getting an update daily.

"Please don't injure yourself," Harry moaned, getting a great view of her bum as she crouched down facing the wall and then rose up, kicking her legs up with her palms flat on the floor.

"See?" The blood all rushed to her head, and Alex's hair fell down over her face at the same time her t-shirt moved, revelling her belly and bra to Harry.

"Much better than yesterday," he told her, "Maybe tomorrow we could lose the bra?"

Alex laughed, her arms shaking as she came crashing to the ground. She was still working on the landing.

Just as she was about to reply, she heard a knock on the door, "Oh!"

"Dinner?" Harry guessed, watching her leap to her feet and disappear from view. A moment later, her legs walked across the screen, and Harry rolled over in bed to try to rid his phone screen of the glare coming from his windows open to the new London morning. "Oi!"

"Calm your farm," Alex tutted, retrieving her phone and grinning at Harry, "You'll never guess what I've got today."

"Hmm," Harry hummed in mock thought, "Let me guess, chicken and rice. A cookie and a ridiculous allotment of fruit?"

"Two bananas, an apple and four apricots."

"S'practically a fruit basket!"

"Tomorrow I get a glass of wine," Alex was already chewing, "Friday night drinks!"

"Friday date night?" Harry suggested, his fingers twitching with the want to be feeling her body between his sheets again, "You're fun when you're a little tipsy."

"Excuse me, I'm always fun!"

Harry laughed, "I can't believe you're so upbeat still. I'd been expecting a dip at some point. I would think a lot of people don't do so well in isolation for two weeks."

"I've got Australian daytime TV and a boyfriend who sends fun gifts,” she eyed the collection of books and puzzles Harry had organised, “I am looking forward to Sunday though."

Harry couldn't imagine how much Alex was looking forward to getting to see her family and friends when her time in quarantine ended, "Did you get tested today?"

"Yes," Alex screwed up her face, the memory of the swab up her nose still fresh, "Fucking hurt."

"Last one," he encouraged. "What's the first thing you're going to do with your brother when he picks you up?"

She halted before putting the next mouthful of warm, lacklustre dinner in her mouth, "It's supposed to be sunny and warm on Sunday, but I don't get released until the evening. So I think we'll just go to mum and dads for tea. Jess and Matt are going to be there."

"A large gathering in the home!" Harry looked scandalised, but he was smiling.

"I know, it's all very 2019," Alex joked.

Harry let out a long sigh from his chest, "I'm so happy you're there, but I miss you."

"You too," she said quietly.

"Hey," Harry called out, not having meant to dampen the mood, "Three sleeps until you get to meet Noah."

The mention of her nephew made Alex smile, "I'm gonna squeeze him so hard."

"Will you FaceTime me there?"

"O'course," her mouth was full, but she nodded emphatically. "My mum asked if we were going to have live music at all family events now."

Harry's laugh exploded out of him, he liked Alex's family very much already, "Happy to oblige."

"Because of you she's also back on Nathan about giving up the trombone in Year 8." Alex told him, "He was previously the musical hope for the family, but he stopped when the girl he liked at fourteen said she would only date a rugby player … Consequently, that girl is also responsible for how Nathan broke his nose."

Harry could sympathise with Alex's older brother, "We do crazy things for love."

&&&

"Could you say that again?"

"Were you not listening?"

"No I was, I just like hearing it in your accent."

"Harry," Alex complained, "I'm already shit at this."

"You're not!" He insisted, trying desperately to keep the grin at bay.

Alex frowned at him and pulled the hotel duvet up to her chin, crossing her legs and slipping her free arm across her chest. Harry's heart was racing, hearing her talk about how his words were making her feel was incredible. Almost as good as physically having her. Almost.

"Al," Harry stilled at the defeated look on her face. His smile disappeared, "Sorry, I wasn't teasing."

"I'm no good a phone sex, it feels weird."

"I know it does at first," he tentatively reassured her, hoping not to draw attention to the fact that over the years Harry had become sort of good at phone sex. By virtue of necessity, such was his regular travel schedule. "I promise it can be great, and we can only get better at it. You're not no good. On the contrary, I'm enjoying myself very much."

She was finding it difficult. And even more so, trying to learn Harry and what he liked—how his body responded—without actually having his body physically there felt impossible. Phone sex was awkward and difficult, and Alex was more self-conscious then she'd ever been, trying to navigate intimacy with Harry through a phone screen. There was a divide there. He was right though, the undercurrent to what he said was that they'd have to get better, there was no other choice. It was all they had.

"Show me what you were doing," Harry beckoned gently, sensing Alex relaxing back into the moment. "And just imagine I'm there, don't apologise for angles or lighting. I don't care."

It was her last day in the hotel, and Alex had woken up with an ache between her thighs. Harry Facetimed her the instant he got the photo of her lying in the sheets, her torso exposed and wishing for his touch. He'd been sitting at home on his Saturday night, watching the first five minutes of half a dozen things on Netflix yet not finding his mind was able to focus on any.

Alex he could focus on though.

Her five seconds of bravery felt far away now, but Alex slowly pushed down the bedding again, "I was thinking about you going down on me."

Harry smiled, "Go on."

&&&

Nineteen 'I felt you in my life before I ever thought to'

Three months passed.

The dreaded milestone ticked over which meant Harry and Alex had been separated the same amount of time they'd spent together in London.

It hadn't ever felt like this for Harry before.

He'd never known what this kind of missing someone was. Previously, he'd missed people, but not with a yearning or a longing that made his chest ache. Not with the kind of force that had him lying in bed at night unable to switch off the channel tuned to Alex.

What time was it in Sydney? Had he already sent her that link? Did she say she was spending the day with her dad? What could he say to get her back in that bikini from the day before?

Missing Alex felt like having an itch inside his mind he couldn't scratch.

But in a sense, how much he wanted to be with her only made his consequent decisions easier.

"You're hopeless!" His manager laughed him from LA, the whole team on the weekly check-in Zoom call. Generally there wasn't a lot to report between them, projects were on hold or cancelled. Harry had decided not to go back to the States to work on a few smaller things—a fashion shoot, a TV guest appearance and a small role in a film—giving his legal team some work in getting him out of contracts, but that was mostly sorted now.

If he was going anywhere, it sure as hell wasn't across the Atlantic.

"Not hopeless," Harry replied diplomatically, "It's something else … But it's not hopeless. It almost feels like having the answer and being the little kid jumping up and down on the spot, dying for the teacher to hurry up and ask the question."

A series of blank looks came back at him. Harry sighed. He'd never been bad at explaining his personal life before. It was always so rational, the relationships made sense or happened in a usual way. He just couldn’t shake the notion that all along, people had been right.

When you know you know.

He'd found Alex.

That was as simple as it was to him. But it didn't settle everyone else the way it settled Harry.

Alex.

Did the name not tick a checkbox in their heads too?

"So, you're going to Australia?"

"I just want to know what it could look like," Harry amended the assumption, but yes, he was going to end up wherever Alex did, and if that was Australia then that was that.

"Who's in Australia?"

The question wasn't to Harry, it wasn't about who he was going to Australia for., they all knew who Alex was. The question was about the industry—about Harry's career. It was who was in Australia for him to work with? Frankly, he didn’t see why the same people he worked with now couldn’t also be the people he continued working with either remotely, or with short trips abroad when travel allowed.

"Obviously, it's not like everything can be done there," Harry offered diplomatically, "But at least for the foreseeable future, with the world how it is … Music as the primary focus, I want to write the next album there. Spend some time seeing the country too, I've always wanted to."

He got a collection of nods, and a few spoken agreements, assurances that it could work.

"This isn't a temporary thing," he said of Alex, looking at the faces who helped him run his life, "We're going to be navigating this for the rest of my career. So everyone's going to need to add Sydney time to their Clock app."

&&&

When he met Alex, Harry knew.

When he landed in Sydney, Harry knew again.

It was the right choice, it was the right place for him to be. All he wanted was to be moving in her direction; in the same direction as her.

It was warm despite the late hour, the air was fragrant with it, in stark contrast to the London he left behind.

He tried to think back to the last time he’d been in Australia, to what it felt like back then.

If only he’d know then …

Harry opted not to apply for any special considerations or circumstances. He didn't want anything to jeopardise him being able to enter what was likely the world's most difficult country to get into now—especially seeing as Harry wasn't a resident, much less a citizen. Harry didn't want to hit the news. And despite evidence of people he knew in the industry being able to dictate where they quarantined on arrival, Harry requested nothing. He just wanted to fly in, go to whatever hotel they told him to, do his two weeks quarantine and then be with her.

"Have you landed?" Alex's voice was urgent and tinged with excitement.

Harry laughed, "Yes, how do you think I'm calling."

She squeaked, "You're here!"

"I'm here," he smiled under his mask, following the flow of fellow travellers walking through the empty airport, "Who ever heard of an International Airport having a curfew though? The pilot made the joke that if we were projected to land even a minute after 11pm, he'd have to turn around and go back to London. Which was like, a joke, but also not funny?"

Alex chortled, "You'll have to get used to the sense of humour here."

"Hang on," Harry saw a checkpoint of sorts ahead of him, "I have to go. I'll call you back."

"Call me from the hotel," she said, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

&&&

"Go to the window."

“Hi. What?" Harry could barely move his head off the pillow as his eyes struggled to open.

"Go to your window," Alex repeated, "Were you asleep?"

He sat up, heart thrumming quickly at the possibility of what he was going to see. A second before his mind had only barely been able to scramble together the cognitive function to swipe to answer the call.

When he got to the window, Harry pulled back the curtains—he'd ended up at the same hotel Alex had been in too—his room looked out over Sydney's Hyde Park, the fountain and cathedral framing his window. Although his top floor room with a (locked) balcony was a little bigger than hers had been he still felt as if he was living in their FaceTime calls. He was sure he'd become more acquainted with the trees and greenery out his window as the days passed.

"What am I looking for?" He asked, but Harry knew.

"I'm down here, can you see me? Blue jeans shorts … Yellow top? I've got a sign!"

Harry's eyes scanned the footpath opposite the hotel, there was a main road between him and the park. He'd been in the room less than 12 hours though, so he wasn't familiar with the foot traffic.

"I can't… Wait, I see you," his mouth opened in a huge smile, "Hi!"

Harry waved and pressed his hand to the window as his heart waved down at Alex's. He felt like his insides were being swapped around inside him as he took his first look at her in the flesh in nearly thirteen weeks. She had sunglasses sitting up on top of her head and a The New Yorker tote bag over her shoulder. He bit his lip at all the exposed skin he was looking at, feeling it a cruel injustice in the fact he would be touching his girlfriend for a fortnight.

Alex was squinting up at the hotel, one hand to her forehead, blocking the sun while the other held her phone to her ear, "How high up at you?"

"Next to the yellow and red flag," he said, looking for a distinguishing feature. He'd fallen asleep to the sound of the rope flapping against the building.

Alex's voice took a teasing tone, "Oh, who's that sexy man with his shirt off in the hotel window?"

"I can't read your sign."

"I only had a Biro," she lamented, shoving the makeshift sign under her arm, "It just says Hi."

"Hi," Harry leant his forehead into the window, "You look beautiful."

"So do you."

"You going to stand out there for the next two weeks?"

"Would you like me to?"

"Yes, please."

Harry watched her take a step back and lean against the wall to the park behind her, "I'd better get comfy then."

&&&

There was a couple in the room next door to Harry.

"I'm telling you, it's relentless," he implored Alex with his eyes, pausing for a second to listen to the sound of their bed hitting the wall, "They're at it constantly."

"Embrace it, some people are into that," Alex giggled from her parent's kitchen. She was making dinner for the whole family, with her AirPods in and Harry chatting to her as she chopped vegetables. "Let it get you in the mood, Harry. Is that voyeurism, or exhibitionism? I can never—"

"—Okay," He rolled his eyes, "Thank you, Comedian."

"You're just jealous you're not getting any."

"I really am," Harry said seriously, "If I have to wait, so should they."

Alex's laugh filled his ears, "It's alright, less than a week to go now."

"I cannot wait to be holding you," he said, longing in his voice.

Harry had mixed feelings leaving London. He didn't know when he'd be back, but at the very least he was going to miss his first Christmas with his family. With England in lockdown, it was unlikely that even if he had stayed, he would be able to spend it with them anyway, but Harry would miss them. He already missed them.

It wasn't like he missed Alex, though. And in all the conversations he'd had with his mum, or his sister, or anyone else, they'd all told him to go for her. They saw it in his eyes and heard it in his voice when he spoke about her. Or maybe their hearts knew as well, as though Harry meeting Alex had been locked away in them all and now the light to that room was switched on.

So there he was, in Australia. To be with his love.

&&&

Ten Days 'Time has changed nothing at all, you're still the only one that feels like home'

Harry asked the nurse who took his last COVID swab to help him.

He hadn't requested anything up until that point, but he knew, even behind her protective gear, she was a friendly face. And he also knew that there were rumblings online that he was in Sydney. (All those spare and jet lag hours, he'd tried to stay off the internet, he really had)

The good news was it was just rumblings, because why on earth would Harry Styles be in Sydney.

All it would take was one photo to confirm it though, which in a sense, was fine, he didn't care.

But Harry didn't want that photo to be of any of his first moments back with Alex.

Let someone snap a picture in a couple of weeks, on a random beach or coming out of a cafe somewhere. Just not his first day. Not when he hadn't seen her since the beginning of September almost three months ago.

He asked if the nurse could help him arrange Alex for access to the hotel car park because the discharge information pack he'd received directed him to organise pick up on the street.

The next two days went slowly, those final 48 hours, waiting for a negative result and trying like anything to bat away fears that it wouldn't be the same. That somehow Harry and Alex would've lost the something that lit the spark in London.

He hated that feeling—the doubt—and when he confessed it to his sister, she batted it away as nerves. She said life was always full of uncertainty and risks, the idea was to choose the ones you thought were worth taking.

&&&

Alex stared at her legs as she sat, waiting for Harry in her dad's car.

It hadn't taken long to get the colour back to them, although mostly she was fixated on how she should have dressed a little nicer for the first time seeing Harry in months. She didn't even have proper shoes on, just the thongs that she'd kicked off the night before after coming back from the park with the dogs.

Harry hadn't seen this side of her. This casual, probably more Australian sounding Alex. The one with bare feet and sunglasses holding her hair back. He'd met her family over video calls, but what would Harry think when he was in a room full of them? They were loud and could have distasteful senses of humour. There were family jokes that Alex had never thought twice about before but now worried Harry wouldn't appreciate.

She'd slipped back into the comforting hum of life in Sydney so easily. Her friends, her family, her city. When she left Sydney hadn't felt like home, but as soon as she stepped back into it something in Alex let out a sigh of return. It was strange, leaving London just at the end of the summer months and falling straight into the beginning of a new summer here.

In front of her, Alex sensed movement. The door she'd been instructed to park in front of opened, and a very tall man in an army uniform stepped into the underground car park, propping open the door with his foot. He pointed to Alex in the front seat and said something to Harry, who was the next person to appear, followed by a nurse in full PPE.

Alex felt an explosion in her chest, an electric shock or a bolt of lightning. Two hearts jumping up and down in excitement.

She cracked the car door open and heard Harry thanking the two people escorting him, his hands moved as though they were itching to add a handshake to the gesture.

As soon as Alex was in his eyesight though Harry didn't think about anyone else.

She emerged and hovered by the front of the car, waiting for Harry to approach her, as if unsure what she was allowed to do. The sight of her in an oversized hoodie and small athletic shorts warmed him instantly. She looked perfect, with a tan that evaded her in London and a brightness behind her eyes Harry was addicted to already. He liked the thought that he was an errand, that picking up her boyfriend was on a list of things for her to do that day. The word 'normal' flashed in Harry's mind, and any worry he'd had about her or him or them together being different from how he remembered it disappeared.

"Hi," he smiled wide as he tugged down the mask covering his face and stepped right into her personal space, his bag and suitcase abandoned behind him.

Speechless, Alex breathed Harry in deeply through tears as she was tightly wrapped up in his arms. She couldn't bring any words to the surface, and so they just stood in silence, holding each other.

After a moment Harry turned his face into her neck and pressed a slow, warm kiss below her ear, "Hello, hello, hello," he said between kisses.

It only made Alex's crying increase, and she squeezed him tighter while leveraging herself higher up his body, not yet willing or able to step away.

"Alex," Harry said her name gently, "Let me see you, please."

She leant back but covered her cheeks with her sleeves, peering over at Harry through blurry eyes, "Wait a sec."

He smiled and pulled her hands away by her wrists, "Give me a kiss."

&&&

"You're such a tourist," Alex laughed as she drove, watching Harry lean forward in the passenger seat and try to take a photo through the windscreen of the Sydney Harbour Bridge above them.

"You know bridges are my passion," he said dryly.

She smiled as he sat back and slipped his hand back into hers.

"I quite like you driving," Harry said, eyeing her in the drivers' seat, "Look at you knowing your way around."

Alex grinned under her sunglasses, "We're in my city now, baby."

&&&

Harry's mouth hovered hotly over the skin below Alex's breasts.

"Harry," she ran her fingers through his hair, hating the anticipation.

His lips upturned at the impatience behind her saying his name. He pressed a kiss to the skin there, then another half an inch further down her tummy, "M'not in a hurry."

"I am," Alex urged.

"Oh?" Harry stopped and looked up at her, his elbows on either side of her hips as he held himself over her, "You are?"

"Yes."

"Going somewhere after this?"

She whined, whined, "No, Harry."

Alex hadn't taken him home to her family. Not yet.

She drove an hour out of the city to a beach suburb with what Alex had deemed the nicest Airbnb. It was private, and without Sydney's usual cohort of international tourists, the area was deserted except for locals. They could hear the ocean from the bedroom and see if from the kitchen. She'd booked them two nights; two nights to reconnect and just live in the presence of each other without her family stepping in and inevitably stealing Harry's heart.

(Except, of course, it was Alex's heart who has his, all this time)

"Look at you, fuck," Harry said, tilting back up to take her lips in his, pressing his torso, his thighs, his stomach, his hardened crotch into her. "Fucking gorgeous."

"We can do slow later," she all but begged, her fingers digging into his exposed back, "Please. Just … Just please, Harry."

Alex felt his hand brush over her thigh, deliciously trailing over the sensitive skin just below her hip bone and down between them. His eyes dipped down between them only briefly before Alex was feeling the tip of him pressing into her exactly where she needed it.

"Yes," her body relaxed into the feeling, remembering the London nights, the mornings and that first time in his living room.

"Alex," Harry said her name like he could hardly believe it, and at the same time as wanting to savour the moment he was thinking of their first, hurried time as well. His hips snapped forward, remembering that time the rush came from wanting to taste, to experience something new and to have Alex's body for his own the first time.

The urgency behind Harry's movements this time were for want of something had and sorely missed, something already claimed but given up for a time.

Alex's head was stretched back onto the pillow underneath him while she felt her body shift and squeeze around him. She wrapped her arms around his chest to feel him closer, wanting to hold onto him as he pumped in and out, sighing against her neck, trying to regulate himself.

"God, Al."

"Harry."

&&&

Four nights later, tucked into the spare room at her parent's house, Harry rolled over and took her hand.

"I think we should get a place here."

"A what?"

"A flat, a house, we should rent something in Sydney."

"Sydney?" Alex's tone elevated, almost touching the spinning ceiling fan above them.

"Yes, Sydney," Harry repeated, "You mentioned a job you liked the look of a few weeks ago, did you apply for it? "

"But what about London? That's where you live, God, what about your work, Harry."

"I want to be here, I'm not in any hurry to go back to what normal was. Normal didn't have you," Harry said, throwing out the script he'd built in his head the last month. His heart was doing the talking, extempore, "I've watched you this week, Alex, it's like you're a whole different person here. You're so happy and settled and joyful, which, by the way, I already thought you were but here … Do you really want to go again? Could you leave your family again?"

Alex felt her chest going into overdrive like everything was whirring around too quickly. She felt had to be honest, though, despite the way it made the fear climb further up her throat, "No. I don't want to leave."

Harry brought her knuckles up to kiss, "I don't want you to leave, either. So, what if we stayed? For as long as it's where you need to be?"

"But your family—

"—Doing this means one of us is always going to be away from someone," Harry told her, "I can handle missing my family, Al, I can't handle missing you. You're it."

"It just seems like too much to ask you to do, Harry."

"You're not asking," he insisted. "I can figure out how to work from here. London was my home base, I spent a lot of the year away anyway. And it's not that much further to LA for stuff, I … I'm saying I can make it work here, Alex. I want to make it work with you."

Alex's heart did a cartwheel, "You want to stay in Sydney?"

Harry's somersaulted, "I want to stay with you, yes."

The End. &&&

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Thanks for reading, everyone! x Kate

Tag list: @afterhoursharry @beautifuleclipses @bumbershots @coffee-doodle-doo @decadentdonkeyflowerzonk @elemayox @ficsthatmakemeswoon @finelinesupremacy @greatestview @hatnightin2008 @ifiwereaboy2323 @ihearthemcallingforyou @just-damn-bored @kakaym @kara-246 @lifeandsomethingelse @luminescencefics @micurq27 @miorni @monpetitchouchou16 @morethanamelodyy @piawhat @rubytersteege @staceystoleyourheart @stepping-into-the-light @steppingonoranges @stylesfics-xx @stylishmuser @toalltheboyswhowastedmytime @tpwkhoney @ursamajor603 @veryplatoniccircunstances @wanderlustiing @whatevarandomlygoes

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#fic: terrible to meet you #fic #harry fic #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #1dff #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles story #harry styles long #hs fic

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you-can-call-me-wanda · 4 years

Text

Saying Goodbye

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x Reader (Requested)

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy! This is my first ever Guns N Roses imagine!

“Hey (Y/N), you coming to the party?”

You looked up from what you were doing to meet the gaze of your coworker, Chase. He stood across from you, wrapping up cables and sorting them before putting them away. He looked at you expectantly.

“Is there a party tonight?” you asked him. As a roadie, you weren’t commonly invited to parties. Sure, the road crew hung out after shows quite often, but those weren’t official hang outs really.

Chase chuckled. “Yeah, everyone’s headed over to some bar after we finish packing up the gear,” he said.

“Who’s everyone?” you asked.

“Everyone,” Chase said. He looked around and lowered his voice dramatically. “I think even Axl is gonna be there.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, thinking about whether you felt up to go out tonight. The party sounded intriguing, but you still had quite a bit of work to do before you’d be able to leave. It was rare that the members of Guns N Roses would be attending the same “party” as the rest of the crew. They were rising to fame, you were not. However, it wasn’t like you knew any of them very well, so it really didn’t matter too much that they were going to be joining everybody at the bar. Not to mention the fact that you were pretty shy and large social gatherings intimidated you greatly.

“I think I’ll probably just skip it,” you decided after thinking it through. “I’m pretty beat from the past couple of shows.” Guns N Roses had just played three nights in a row and you were tired from the constant rigging and unrigging of lights.

“Aw,” Chase said with a frown. “Well, if you change your mind, feel free to find me.” He finished packing up his box of cables and made his way down the hall, presumably to the buses outside.

You just sighed as you continued to work at dismantling some stupid light for travel.

You found yourself meandering through the hotel after you finally finished up your work for the night. It seemed like everyone else had gone over to the bar already, so you were on your own for the night though you didn’t mind too much. You figured you’d head outside for a breath of fresh air and maybe a quick smoke before going to bed early.

As you made your way through the lobby though, you quite literally bumped into someone.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” you said, gasping as your body collided with another. You looked up and were slightly mortified to see none other than Izzy Stradlin standing in front of you.

“It’s okay,” he said, giving you an awkward smile. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Neither was I,” you confessed, returning the smile.

You both stood there for an uncomfortable moment filled with silence.

“Um, your name’s (Y/N), right?” Izzy asked, reaching up to scratch the back of his head.

“Yeah,” you answered, surprised that he knew who you were. “And you’re Izzy,” you added, kicking yourself after saying so. Obviously, he was Izzy. He was part of Guns N Roses for fucks sake!

Izzy laughed a little at that. “Yeah. You’re not out with the rest of the crew tonight?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Nah,” you replied. “Not really my scene.”

“Me neither,” Izzy surprised you by saying. “I’m not a huge party kind of guy.”

“Really?” you couldn’t help but ask. You had assumed Izzy went out with the band all the time.

He shrugged. “It’s not so fun when everyone knows who you are.”

“Oh,” you answered, not really sure what to say. “Well, I’m just going out for a smoke,” you said, beginning to move past him.

“You mind if I join you?” he asked. Truth be told, he had just come back inside from a smoke outside, but you didn’t need to know that. He found you interesting and wanted to stay in your company for a little bit longer.

You surprised yourself by nodding. “Okay,” you said.

The two of you made your way outside and to the side of the hotel building. There, you stood, leaned against the brick wall. Izzy lit yours and his cigarette with his lighter and the two of you smoked together in the quiet darkness.

After some time had passed and both of your cigarettes were down to the filter, Izzy spoke again.

“This is nice,” he mumbled, stamping out the cigarette but on the pavement. “It’s nice to have some quiet, y’know?”

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah, don’t get too much of that on this tour,” you said.

“Tell me about it,” Izzy responded. “I think you and I are the only people who know how to stop talking.”

You blushed slightly at his comment. This was your first time ever talking to Izzy and he was already grouping you and him together as the quiet ones.

“Well,” you said, gathering up some courage, “if you ever need some quiet company, just come and find me.”

That’s exactly what Izzy did.

In the following weeks, you and Izzy became fast friends. He would find you during the day, setting up for the show, and promptly drag you away from your work to go grab lunch with him. After his concerts, you would rush to finish packing up so you could go back to the tour bus or the hotel and find Izzy.

You and he were often left to do your own thing. So, while the rest of the band or crew would go clubbing or bar hopping, you and Izzy would go sightseeing or out for a meal. The tour took you all across the United States and the two of you spent your shared free time exploring all the new sights and attractions each city brought.

Of course, your favorite part of all this was getting to spend time with Izzy. He was quickly becoming one of your best friends and sometimes you would even catch yourself thinking of him as something more.

The feelings were requited. Izzy felt like he had found his other half in you. Someone who was more laidback and quieter like him, but also someone he felt he could talk to for hours on end.

The North American leg of the tour was quickly drawing to an end though and both of you were nervous for what the future had in store for your relationship. While you would like nothing more than to continue travelling with Guns N Roses as part of their crew, your contract would be ending with this part of the tour. You would be headed back home to your normal life and Izzy would be going to Europe.

Being a roadie had been a bit of a last-minute decision. You’d been in need for a paycheck and a friend of yours had known a guy who was able to get you this gig. It was kind of amazing actually that you were able to be part of such a big tour, but they had been pretty desperate for another set of hands that could start right away so you were hired. In your mind, this had always been a temporary position. You always knew you would return home and work towards finding a career that was more stable and didn’t take you so far from home for so long.

Izzy knew of your plans too. You had told him weeks ago, but knowing you were going to be leaving him ahead of time did nothing to ease the pain of knowing that he would be without you once again.

So, neither of you said anything about your feelings and instead chose to pretend like the end wasn’t coming.

It was at the airport where everything finally came out.

You weren’t even needed there but Izzy had insisted you come with him for a last goodbye. During the drive over, he slipped his hand into yours and gave it a tight squeeze. No words needed to be spoken for you to understand what he was trying to say. You squeezed his hand in return and rested your head on his shoulder. Out of the corner of your eyes, you watched the world quickly pass by through the window. You found yourself wishing time would just slow down.

When you got to the airport, most of the crew was tasked with unloading all the equipment and taking it to where it needed to be checked in. You made your way inside with Izzy and the rest of the band though, your job already over.

Izzy was still holding your hand as you walked in. He slowed his pace, letting the rest of his band pass the two of you by, so you and he could have a moment alone to say your goodbyes.

“You could come with us,” Izzy proposed, knowing entirely that you would reject the idea.

“Izzy,” you sighed, tears welling up in your eyes, “My whole life is here. My family, my friends- all of that is here.” You blinked your eyes shut tightly, trying to stop the tears from falling.

Izzy reached up to gently wipe away a stray tear that had managed to cascade down your cheek. He continued to cradle your cheek after drying your face.

“I know,” he said. His voice with tight with emotion.

You forced a smile onto your face. “Guns N Roses is going places, Izzy. You’re going to be flying all around the world, touring, and recording albums, and constantly moving. We’d be living in different worlds.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” he said softly. “I get it. Can you just promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Promise me you’ll always remember that I love you,” he said.

You pulled him into a passionate kiss the second the words left his mouth. Waves of emotion wracked through your body as your lips met his. It would have been the perfect kiss if you hadn’t known it would be your last shared with him.

“I promise,” you whispered, pulling away from him.

Izzy just nodded, not trusting himself to say much more without breaking down. He planted a small kiss to your forehead before taking a step back from you and picking up his suitcase.

“I guess this is goodbye,” he said, his own eyes now watery.

“I guess so,” you agreed. “Goodbye Izzy.”

“Goodbye (Y/N).”

All you could do was watch as Izzy turned away from you and made his way over to the rest of the band and the crew members that would be accompanying them on the next leg of their tour. Upon his arrival, Axl threw an arm around Izzy’s shoulders and threw a glance back at you. You paid him no mind though, too focused on Izzy’s retreating figure. You stood frozen in place as you watched them make their way together over to the terminal and eventually out of sight.

When he was gone, you tentatively raised your hand to your lips, remembering how his lips had felt against yours and heartbroken that you would never know the sensation again.

#izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin imagine #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses imagine #wanda writes

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smoaking-greenarrow · 4 years

Text

If I Tremble chapter 21: Clutch

Rated M

(Gif)

“Do you think in another life, or on one of those other earths...you could’ve been a mechanic?”

Oliver paused for a moment, and then continued adjusting the gear on his motorcycle, not turning around. His hands and shirt were covered in grease from the engine. It was late.

He was tired.

And he was sad.

Tomorrow, he’d have to say goodbye to his beloved bike. The same one that had helped him escape some risky missions unscathed. Carried him through high speed chases with criminals. But most importantly, the bike held some of his fondest memories. And all of those fond memories involved Felicity pressed against him somehow.

Oliver had owned this motorcycle when he first met her. He could still remember the first time she got on it and how good it had been just to feel her there.

It was dark and raining. They’d just had a long day at Queen Consolidated; the kind of day where he was irritable and snappy with Felicity and she’d given it right back to him. They took a short cease-fire in their snide back and forth so they could go home, eat dinner, and get ready for another night of vigilante business. But the break hadn’t done either of them any good. They were still at each other’s throats by the time they met up with Digg at the lair. Unfortunately, it was also a quiet night on the streets, so Oliver and Felicity had nothing to do but bicker.

After a few hours of it, they finally decided to call it a night. Or rather, after Diggle got sick of playing the middleman, he called it a night for all of them.

But then Felicity’s car wouldn’t start. Digg had already left, so Oliver offered to drive her home. Because of course he wasn’t going to leave her stranded in the Glades. No matter how much she tested his patience on a daily basis, he knew that he cared about her. A lot.

And Felicity accepted the ride, not knowing that he’d brought his bike that night.

Oliver tossed his leg over the seat, unable to hide his smirk as she gaped at him. He’d wondered, once or twice, or maybe more often than he was ready to admit...what it would be like to have Felicity on the back of his motorcycle.

“Hop on, Miss Smoak,” he offered her the helmet, his voice thick and his eyes trained on her.

Her mouth hung open and she shook her head.

Hesitant little thing.

Felicity had never been on a motorcycle. Which he knew. The first time she’d seen his bike, she’d told him as much. And she’d informed him that she had no desire to ever be on one. To be fair, she’d also seen the way he drove, so her fear wasn’t entirely misplaced. He could see it in her eyes that she wanted to change her mind. That she wanted to find another way home. But after the tension they’d been sharing all day? Felicity wasn’t about to back down to him.

So she climbed on the back, grumbling to herself about the bus stop a few streets away.

As if he was ever going to leave her at a bus stop alone.

He took his time getting to her apartment, driving slow, making sure she felt safe and sound.

To his amusement, Felicity loved it.

When they finally reached her home and he helped her off the bike, Felicity was smiling ear to ear. And he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he got her on his motorcycle.

It became sort of a goal for him, actually.

He started taking his bike every day in the hopes that she might need a ride.

Even as the broken man he was back then, it had felt right to have Felicity there with him. That first night and every night after it. The countless rides with her, all while he’d been falling in love.

Granted, ever since Mia was born, it had mostly been collecting dust in their garage, but it still held a sentimental value that made it hard for Oliver to let go of it.

“Mechanics are pretty sexy,” Felicity hummed, pulling him back to the moment.

Oliver turned around to look at her, letting out a sigh as he grabbed a rag off the floor and wiped his hands. “And men who have daughters and sensible cars...they’re not sexy?”

Felicity made a face, lifting her hand to wave the baby monitor she’d brought from Mia’s room. “Oh no, trust me. The loving dad to a little girl thing is...very sexy.”

Oliver huffed out a laugh, giving his bike another glance. It was in better shape than it had been a couple of days ago. After taking the time to fix it up, it was ready to ride again.

Selling it was a better plan than hoarding it in the garage, after all.

“What about an exhausted mom who has sore boobs because her daughter has an incredibly demanding appetite?” Felicity cocked her head to the side, “Or a woman who had to change her clothes because that same daughter just hurled all over her? Super sexy, right?”

Laughing, Oliver shook his head. “You’re always sexy. Trust me.”

“Well,” Felicity moved down the steps into the garage, setting the baby monitor on the shelf near the door. “You didn’t see the mess your child made of my favorite sweater. She chugged that bottle like a college frat boy and then threw up like one, too.”

“She still hasn’t learned that lesson?” Oliver stood up, finally getting a good look at his wife as she came closer. She was barefoot, her legs exposed, because she wasn’t wearing anything but a t-shirt. His t-shirt.

“Like father, like daughter...” Felicity mumbled back, smiling as she stopped in front of him.

He gulped, leaning against the seat of the bike as his eyes raked down her body. His wife gently nudged his legs apart, stepping between them. Then she leaned in, pressing her lips against his ear. “You know,” she whispered, her arms winding around his neck, “we had some good times on this motorcycle. Remember Coast City?”

Oliver’s eyes closed on instinct, the feel of her body and the sound of her voice doing a number on him already. “Of course I remember,” he groaned, nuzzling her cheek.

It was a few months after they came back to Starling. They’d been missing Ivy Town and the summer they spent together, so they’d decided to take a weekend trip to Coast City. On the bike. “That night I took you out to dinner…” Oliver grinned, his voice low, his chest pressed to hers.

“You parked in the alley behind the restaurant.”

“And for some reason, you wanted me to teach you how to drive this thing.”

Oliver couldn’t see her face, but he felt her shiver.

He remembered, very vividly, how he’d put Felicity in front of him on the motorcycle, her hands on the gears, his on top of hers as he sat behind her. “I thought I did a pretty good job,” Felicity chuckled.

She’d only driven it from the mouth of the alley to the end of it once before she stopped the bike and started grinding her ass against him. Which led them to a very heated make out session until Felicity finally insisted that he take her back to the hotel immediately, and Oliver did his best to obey all the speed limits to get there while ignoring a massive boner.

“I guess our days of being spontaneous are kind of over,” Oliver sighed regretfully. As much as he loved being a father, there was a part of him that missed that time in their lives. The freedom of it. The adventure of every day with her. An open road in front of them that could take them anywhere they wanted to be.

And god, did they explore together.

In many different senses of the word.

Felicity shrugged, pushing his leg aside so she could climb onto the motorcycle. “Says who?”

“Uh...the baby who wakes us up two or three times a night?”

She rolled her eyes, “Mia’s sleeping. Let’s say goodbye to this old thing...the best way we know how.”

With a smirk, Oliver climbed onto the motorcycle behind her.

It wasn’t something that he’d ever admit to anyone, especially not the young gentleman who they sold the bike to…but Felicity knew her way around the machine, despite the fact that she’d never driven it outside of that alley in Coast City. She knew where everything was because they’d done... other things on this bike.

Of course, the new owner didn’t need to know that. And he definitely didn’t need to know the details of those things they did.

There had been nights. Dangerous missions and life-threatening encounters. Close calls and moments where one of them thought they might lose the other. Nights when Felicity had been insatiable and Oliver had needed her just as badly, the spark between them full of desperation and relief. Impossible to deny. Nights where they’d needed each other but had nowhere to go, so they got creative.

Having sex on his motorcycle wasn’t really something that they could just do once and then not want to do again.

He’d be lying if he said it was a one time thing.

Wrapping his arms around Felicity, reminded of those moments and how it felt back then, Oliver pressed himself against her back and buried his face in the crook of her neck. His hands slid slowly over her stomach, skimming down her thighs as he started to kiss her ear. Then he moved one hand to her hip, pulling her back against him. He ground his hips forward at the same time, and Felicity groaned when she felt his hardening length rubbing against her ass.

Silently, he slipped his other hand up her side, barely letting himself touch her breast before he flattened his palm on her chest, his fingers curling lightly around her throat. Just the right pressure to make her shiver. “Oliver,” she mewled.

He dragged his lips to her shoulder, pushing the fabric of his shirt out of the way. He only let go of her when she began to roll her body on her own. Keeping his grip on her neck, Oliver dipped his other hand underneath the shirt, kneading one of her breasts.

Felicity plastered herself to him like she couldn’t get close enough, a low cry escaping her mouth. She dropped her head against his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to kiss her. His tongue demanded entrance, which she easily welcomed.

Oliver could feel her pulse thrumming under his fingertips, her skin getting warmer under his palm.

Her breath grew shallow as his mouth ravished hers.

God. Damn.

It didn’t surprise him anymore how quickly and how thoroughly his wife could turn him on. But it still amazed him. She was letting go, grinding her ass against his cock, and he was practically seeing stars.

Not wasting any time, Oliver leaned over, fumbling to find the keys while Felicity was too distracted to notice. When he turned the keys and started the engine, she gasped at the unexpected sound.

The bike purred to life, vibrating beneath them. Felicity’s hips jerked in response, finding friction.

Oliver kissed her harder. “Turn around,” he growled into her mouth. “Felicity, come here.”

She scrambled to spin around on the seat, nearly falling, but his firm hands guided her movements until she was facing him. Then Felicity hummed as she wrapped her legs around him, the noise mixing with the steady buzz from the motorcycle.

Her hands were on his jeans a moment later, nails digging into his thighs and then his hips. Then she reached for the button of his pants, snapping them open quickly. Felicity moaned as she slipped her hand inside, rubbing him over his boxers, feeling the length of him as he hardened beneath her palm.

Oliver lifted his hips; one arm branded around Felicity’s body as he did his best to pull his pants down. He could barely get them over his ass while he was straddling the bike, but it was enough that Felicity could free his cock.

His jeans were painfully tight around his legs, but as he settled back down on the bike, Felicity started grinding her hips down on him. He groaned in approval as her wet underwear rubbed up and down on his erection.

Felicity rocked her hips against him, her breath catching every time the head of his cock would slip between her folds. And Oliver tried to control his own breathing, his face buried in her throat; her familiar, delicious scent filling his nose.

He was vaguely aware that the garage door was wide open, which left him with the sense of being exposed and vulnerable, despite the fact that no one came to the cabin aside from John, Donna, and Thea.

None of which were expected for a visit tonight.

So the dirt road and sunset ahead was private. Safe, of course. Yet it still provided a thrill behind their actions; the feeling that they were somewhat in public.

“Is the monitor on?” Oliver couldn’t help but ask. His last shred of control.

Felicity gave him a quick, short nod as she pointed to the baby monitor on the shelf.

With the lungs Mia had, they both knew they’d hear it if she did happen to wake up…

“Fuck, Felicity,” he huffed out a breath, giving in to the incredible feeling of doing this with her. Again.

For the last time.

Fuck.

Oliver shoved his hand between them, yanking her underwear to the side and dipping his fingers between her soaked folds.

She was so damn wet.

He bit his tongue to keep from cursing again.

It made it easier that he knew exactly how to get Felicity going. How to really turn her on. Quickly. Because he was certain that as much as he wanted to take his time, he wasn’t going to last very long. He never did when a situation involved his motorcycle and his hot wife. Although this time, at least, there were no life-threatening missions to urge them on.

There was just her.

And god was he desperate for her.

Pushing his fingers inside, Oliver let Felicity set the pace; keeping his fingers straight, curving them to hit the spot deep inside that made her cry out for him.

Each time she thrusted down, her walls would squeeze his fingers tight and his hand would press against her clit.

Oliver ignored his aching cock, begging to be touched, in favor of watching Felicity.

He loved the way she moaned his name.

Loved the way she rode him.

Loved her.

It didn’t take long before her breath on his cheek became shallow. Her fingers pulled on his hair and her legs tightened around his waist, the vibrations of the bike coursing through him and straight to her.

And with one final roll of her hips, Felicity stiffened. She choked on her next breath. Her grip on his hair was hard, making him grit his teeth.

“Oh god,” she whimpered in his ear. “Right there, right there. Yes!”

Oliver straightened his fingers, moving them in and out as fast as he could while Felicity came.

Her legs tightened, shaking around him. Her head fell back, her breath catching.

He finally eased up, coaxing her down from her orgasm as he slowed his movements down, then carefully pulled his fingers out. He brought them to his mouth, and Felicity leaned back to watch him lick them clean.

With a smirk, Oliver tilted his head, his mouth meeting hers.

Felicity’s lips were slow to kiss him back, a sweet sigh falling from them. Oliver sucked on her bottom lip, his hands gliding down her back until he reached her ass. And he kissed her harder, squeezing the flesh, tugging her closer.

Her hips were already starting to move again, seeking friction.

Oliver smiled, giving her ass a light smack.

That’s my girl.

Felicity gasped, her mouth breaking from his while her body instinctively surged closer.

But when he went to kiss her again, she turned her head, letting his lips land on her cheek. With a pout, Oliver trailed kisses along her jaw, stopping at her chin. “What’s wrong?” He mumbled against her skin.

She didn’t answer right away, so he moved lower, licking and sucking a path across her throat. Felicity shivered, arching her back for the briefest moment, but pulled away as soon as he started to press his face between her breasts.

“Felicity?” Oliver frowned, holding her tighter.

Looking up at her, he saw the smile on her face; her lips swollen and red from his beard, her skin flushed, her eyes wide with pleasure. She shook her head once, moving to get off of him and the bike, and this time he let her. Felicity climbed down, using his hand for balance, then she nudged him to get up, too.

Once she had him on his feet, Felicity hooked her fingers through his belt loops and dropped to her knees, taking his pants along with her.

She took his cock in one of her hands, grasping him tightly. She smiled at him with those swollen lips. Stared up at him with those wide eyes. And Oliver instantly groaned, his hips snapping to meet her hand. His hands reached for her head, wanting nothing more than to dive his fingers into her hair and hold on while she did whatever she wanted with him.

But Felicity had other ideas. Her hand flattened against his stomach, “Sit,” she demanded, pushing him back until he fell onto the motorcycle.

‘Oh, fuck,” he huffed as he landed on the seat, the vibrations hitting his backside. But before he could get his bearings back, Felicity’s mouth was on him.

She nipped at his chest, scraped her teeth over one of his nipples, licked her way down to his stomach. And by the time she kissed the tip of his cock, he was already feeling lightheaded. Glancing down at her, he ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face so he could see her better. Felicity met his eyes as she swirled her tongue around the head. Oliver sucked in a breath at the sensation, struggling to keep still.

God, he was sensitive.

Felicity grabbed his waist, holding herself steady with her nails digging in. Slowly, she took him between her lips. Inch by inch, he disappeared into her warm, wet, perfect mouth.

Until she had all of him.

Oliver instantly cried out as she swiped her tongue along the underside of his cock, jerking inside her mouth.

He could feel her throat constricting around him. Her teeth gently scraping his length. Her eyes watching him, blinking back some slight moisture as she pulled back and took a deep breath. Then she did it again, taking every inch of him. And again. Always stopping to swallow when her lips reached his balls, making his breath catch as she tightened her throat around him. Felicity kept her movements slow, which she knew drove him crazy in all of the best ways.

When she changed pace, focusing on his head while her hand stroked up and down his shaft, Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, pleasure washing over him. The intensity of the bike rumbling beneath him and the things she was doing with her mouth...it was almost too much. He didn’t realize he was rocking his hips towards her until he heard Felicity moan.

Slowly, he opened his eyes again to look down at her. She hummed, giving him a nod of approval. “Oh my god, Felicity,” he grit through his teeth, snapping his hips again. Every time he pushed into her mouth, she’d swirl her tongue around him. And every time he pulled out of her mouth, he’d lean back against the bike and feel the vibrations of the motorcycle, coursing straight to his balls, making his pleasure skyrocket.

He could feel his own orgasm coming as fast and as hard as Felicity’s had, and it was beyond tempting to let his body follow it. But Oliver leaned back, holding her head steady as he pulled out of her mouth with a loud pop.

Felicity furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Her lips, that were even more swollen now, pouted up at him.

He sighed, both in regret and anticipation. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that being buried inside Felicity’s mouth when he came would be incredible. But he really wanted to be buried somewhere else. Oliver stood up again, helping Felicity to her feet. Then he gave her an ardent, slow kiss.

Felicity moaned into his mouth, and he kissed her harder as he tasted himself on her tongue.

Their eyes met again, each of them smiling. Oliver gently tapped his index finger to her nose, making her giggle.

God, she knew what that sound did to him.

It was a laugh that quickly faded when he grabbed her waist and spun her around. Taking a moment to admire the view in front of him, he pressed his palm against her lower back and guided her to bend over.

Felicity did so willingly, her breaths ragged.

Without a word, Oliver clutched onto her hips, gently kicking her feet apart, spreading her legs. He lined himself up at her entrance, and Felicity gripped onto the seat of the bike.

As he started to push into her, Felicity tossed her hips back, making him moan as he filled her. She glanced over her shoulder at him, smirking, and Oliver let out a breathless chuckle in return. His hands skimmed up her back, his fingers dragging, until he could grip her shoulders. Her smile fell when he pulled out, and she moaned his name when he thrusted back in.

Oliver kept his pace slow, a careful force behind his thrusts, since he knew that the motorcycle couldn’t take too much pressure. But it was more than enough.

As he felt his orgasm begin to build again, he shifted his weight over Felicity, pushing his hand between her body and the bike. And it only took a moment to find the right angle; his fingers working quick circles on her clit as the bike pulsed under them.

Felicity came with a shout, her hands flying to his arm, anchoring herself.

And Oliver followed right behind, spilling inside of her while his body folded over hers.

The motorcycle muffled their cries, the throbbing machine making everything feel more intense.

As he came back to his senses, Oliver lifted his hand from Felicity’s shoulder, keeping the other pressed against her clit, and reached over to turn the engine off. Listening to each of their heavy breaths, Oliver kissed Felicity’s shoulder, every patch of skin that he could reach without having to move.

“Having any second thoughts about selling this thing?” He mumbled against her back.

Felicity laughed, nudging him until he moved off of her. “Was this your way of trying to get me to keep it?”

He slipped out of her with a groan. “Honestly, no. But if you want me to do some more convincing, I’m all for it.”

“I’ll always love the bike...” Felicity shook her head, “But no. It’s always been more about you than the bike.”

He smiled at that, agreeing with the sentiment completely. Everything that he’d just felt had been entirely Felicity’s doing.

“That’s true,” he sighed, noticing that her legs were shaking when she tried to stand, and he quickly moved to pick her up. “I already know how easily you can get me wound up. Basically anytime you want.

“And anywhere,” Felicity grinned as he carried her towards the house, grabbing the baby monitor from the shelf as they passed.

Oliver turned the light off while Felicity pushed the button to close the garage door, each of them giving the motorcycle one last loving, appreciative look. “It may be ‘goodbye’ to the bike,” he whispered in her ear. “But I’m sure that we have a lifetime of thrills ahead of us still.”

Felicity raised an eyebrow, “I’m willing to bet you’re right.”

#Arrow #Olicity #olicity fic #If I Tremble #olicity fanfic #Oliver Queen #Felicity Smoak

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anythingbutmar · 4 years

Text

Mistake

Diego Hargreeves x reader

Summary: After you turned 18, Diego and you pretty much distanced from the other members of the academy, so when you all meet for Reginald’s funeral you have some explaining to do.

A/N: I kinda love this concept but I changed a few details of this request so the reader is not raised as a sibling and her relationship with the others is in no way familial. I missed writing, specially for Diego, so thanks anon! This is quite long too, so sorry about that. I had a lot of fun too, so let me know if you’d like me to make this into a series, cause I might do it.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of homelessness, but overall just fluff and a bit of angst.

You liked to say that the life you made by yourself happened because of a simple mistake, because you had come across the Umbrella Academy on a very particular way.

You could say you had a decent upbringing, your mother wasn’t abusive but she was pretty much the definition of overprotective, and as a child you were never told that it was because a man had literally tried to buy you on the day you were born, in fact, you didn’t know anything about him or the children he managed to adopt because your mother and grandparents wouldn’t let you get anywhere near any piece of information of whatever existed outside your little hometown.

They told you they were doing it because your father had left you when you were just a baby and they wanted to protect you from the dangers of foreign men, of course you thought that you were born from a normal pregnancy, and you believed everything, that and the fact that you could control any element to your will, which they said was wrong and kept hidden. You were homeschooled, and you could only socialize with the kids from your neighborhood which was good, but it wasn’t enough, and we all now overprotectiveness can really mess with someone’s mind.

And so, even though you went along with it for many years, when one of your only friends suggested you both snuck out for a party on the big city for your sixteenth birthday you couldn’t say no, and that was the mistake, if it is possible to call it like that.

On the best Rapunzel style you went out your bedroom window, got on a bus and drank so much alcohol you completely passed out on a strangers lap and woke up on an unknown bed with a beautiful woman smiling down at you. Well, maybe that wasn’t Rapunzel’s style, but it sure felt like it at first.

The next series of events happened so fast it almost felt like a dream. You met a handful of strange children, one of which you later remembered had brought you there while being just as drunk as you were, his name was Klaus, and he later became the best friend you ever had; then you had the most overwhelming conversation of your life, in which an incredibly mean old man explained how you were actually born and made you understand just how different and important you were, but not in the wholesome way.

About an hour later your mother stormed through the academy looking for you, but one of the girls whispered something in her ear on her dad’s command which changed your mom’s entire attitude, with her allowing you to stay as if it was a boarding school, or so she told you, but she only visited once every few months and she didn’t seem as caring as before. According to Allison, that was in no way her fault, and you believed her, because at the end of the day you trusted your newfound friends much more than the woman that lied to you your entire life.

And so, you learnt to control your ability like never before, while also enduring Reginald’s cruel treatment, but it didn’t matter at all, because in the midst of everything you found Diego, and with him came all the things you never experienced before. He brought you happiness, love, trust and overall, lust for life.

Two years later you were living your best teenage secret romance. You snuck out at nights to visit all the parts from the city that he wanted you to meet, and you shared tiny kisses whenever Reginald and the kids weren’t watching. But Diego left, just like he had planned since he was a kid, and you weren’t brave enough to follow him. It wasn’t until his other siblings started leaving too that you realized that no matter how hard it was to be outside on your own, holding on to life with him was better than anything else. It was actually thanks to Allison, the smart girl had noticed you two holding hands under the table and knew just how heartbroken you were without him. “Chase him, Y/N, you won’t have this opportunity ever again.” She said right before she left, and she was absolutely right.

It took you less than a week to find him on a motel, bruised as ever and with barely enough money to pay for another night, and in between hugs, kisses and forbidden touches you promised him that you’d both get out of there. He told you he had been on that place for three weeks and a half, but the first few days after leaving the academy he had to sleep on a park bench until he gathered enough money by playing with his knifes to amuse people on the street. It had been hard, but now that you were together everything was so much better.

After many years living in the back room of a rusty gym, both of you taking turns in wiping it’s floors while also trying to study and save people at nights, because the one thing you learned from Reginald was that you loved helping people, and Diego’s vigilantism was just as appealing to you as it was to him. Diego was accepted into the police force and you finished your studies on a cheap school, which allowed you both to get a job you liked, and when you were finally able to buy a house for yourselves Diego proposed.

“Y/N, before you arrived my life was a nightmare, and all I ever wanted was to stay as far away from that place as it was possible, and everything that reminded me of it I planned on cutting from my life, but you arrived with your sweet smile, your shy eyes and those damn legs, and you completely switched my view of the world because I knew right there that I would love you forever, and I do. I love to see you in your weird ass robe, making potions-”

“I’m a chemist babe, not a witch.” You corrected him laughing.

“Let me finish Y/N!” He laughed with you. “I love how you treated me and my siblings, and I love how you helped mom, and god! I love how you used to beat bad guys with fucking wind on our nights out! I love everything about you sweetheart, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” By then you were both crying, and of course you said yes, how could you not?

Cut to ten years later and the day you had silently both dreaded and hoped for came. Reginald Hargreeves was dead, and you couldn’t even tell if you were sad about it, after all, the man had saved you from Mother Gothel, as Diego and you started calling her after watching Tangled with your daughters, but he saved you at what cost? You now had quite a few burn scars in your body from his dangerous training, you loved each one of them because they reminded you just how powerful you were, but still, no teenager should have to go through that.

And you couldn’t even get started on Diego. You wondered how and when he would take the news. He was out on his monthly vigilante night, which was kind of a gift you gave to each other, you were allowed to leave for the night once every month on different days because now that you had kids you could no longer risk your life everyday like you used to before. The kids, oh boy, what were you gonna do with your beloved girls? You weren’t sure if taking them to the funeral with you was the right decision, you wanted to shelter them from death and all the evil things in the world, but then again, you weren’t your mother, and you had no one to leave them with.

Just as you were thinking about maybe even staying, your husband entered your home, and he looked destroyed. It was one in the morning and you had been waiting for him while thinking of Reginald, and clearly he had been thinking about the same thing. You quickly stood up and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“He’s d-dead.” He stuttered on your shoulder. He didn’t even sound sad, he just seemed shocked.

“Shh, I know baby, I know.” You stood there for a while, just comforting each other in the middle of your kitchen before going to bed, you needed to rest for the next day because you knew it would be anything but ordinary.

And in the blink of an eye you were ringing the bell of the academy, each of your girls holding their father’s hand, the three of them standing behind you in your small, useless effort to protect them.

Grace opened up, and you couldn’t be happier to see her. You gave her a small hug and then gave Diego some space so he could properly say hi to his beloved mother. He introduced Luna and Amber and she was delighted to see Diego in a stable, loving family, she just seemed a bit off, but you’d talk to Diego about that later.

And then... Lord help you, you entered the livingroom and ran headfirst into Klaus who instantly hugged you, twirling you around and making you laugh as you both landed on the floor.

“Y/N, love! How have you been?” He sat up, looking at the doorframe, as he seemed to notice the two pair of eyes that stared in curiosity. “Oh I see you’ve gotten busy! Hello my little munchkins, I’m your uncle Klaus!”

“Wait Y/N/N, you’re with Diego now?” Luther asked from the other side of the room. Despite his rivalry with your now husband, you were quite close to him during your small time on the academy.

“Honestly Luther, I love you, but you can be quite oblivious sometimes.” You stood up with his help and hugged him tightly, getting a comforting feeling from his embrace.

“I’m here too, you know, your brother, Diego?” He finally entered, still holding your daughters’s hands and analizing the scene.

“It’s not our fault that you can’t say hi to anybody.” Allison came from behind him, scaring him, which made the girls laughing.

“Hi Allison.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes at his sister.

“I always knew you liked keeping your secrets but this two are way too big to hide” Se kneeled down to pinch Luna’s cheek, who smiled bashfully at her aunt.

Amber, your youngest, ran towards you and pulled your hand. You kneeled to her height as she whispered in your ear. “Mommy, I want to meet uncle Spaceboy.” You smiled softly at her sweetness, carrying her towards him. She instantly jumped in his arms, which took both Luther and you by surprise, she wasn’t the most sociable girl after all, but you kinda understood, his big frame and natural akwardness made him look quite huggable.

“Damn bro, you’ve gotten big.” Diego joined you, leaving Allison to play with Luna, who was now excited to know that she had a cousin her age, and you left before the two started bickering, but much to your surprise, the presence of your daughter seemed to retain them from fighting like they used to. Maybe bringing them was a good idea after all.

“Well, this is is quite the frame” Pogo entered the room with Vanya right behind him. You all waved at them, tired already of all the hugs already.

“Hi everyone.” Vanya entered uncomfortably, allowing Allison to hug her and having a small talk.

You turned to Diego and looked at him, a warning in your eyes. You knew your husband all to well, and you could see how much the book had hurted him, but you weren’t going to let him start a fight in the middle of a family meeting.

But of course, he wouldn’t listen to you.

“Why did you do it?” He started walking towards her as you mentally facepalmed. This wasn’t going to end well.

“Really, Diego? This isn’t the right time.” Allison scolded him, standing between him and her only sister.

“Then when is it, Allison? The next time we see each other? Should we wait another twelve years?” Allison just scoffed and stormed out of the room, Luther following after her, Vanya left silently, looking hurt, and Klaus snuck out in the heat of the moment, probably looking for money.

You sat on the biggest couch in the middle of your daughters, surrounding them with your arms. “That went well.” You stared at Diego, who pocked his tongue at you.

And it was about to get worse.

After having a tiny dance party, thanks to Luther’s incredibly loud turntable, you heard a thunderlike sound and watched as a bright blue light appeared outside. You looked at Diego, knowing what to do from all the years of practice that you had together. Each of you grabbed one of the kids, running outside to meet the others, who surrounded you in a protective manner, protecting their newly met nieces.

There was a portal in front of you, which Klaus tried to close with a fire extinguisher, but you could tell it wouldn’t work, because that wasn’t made of fire, or any other element that you were familiar with, for that matter, and you were an element bending chemist, for christ’s sake.

“What the hell is that babe?” Diego yelled, trying to understand.

“I have no idea, but there’s something coming out of it!” You yelled back, and everyone turned to look at what appeared to be an old man coming out of the portal. And in a flash of blue, a small boy landed at your feet, he looked incredibly similar to the portrait of the lost sibling that hung on top of the fireplace.

“Does anyone else see little number five?” They all nodded at Klaus, who clearly wasn’t sober enough for this, or maybe the poor thing thought that was the ghost of him, and you knew he already had enough with one dead brother following him around.

“What on earth is wrong with this family?” You said, looking at the odd teenager.

Minutes passed as you all stared at Five, who was preparing a goddamned sandwich, in the middle of one of the most confusing moments of your life.

“You’re new.” He simply stated, looking at you.

“Umm yeah, we haven’t had the chance to meet before, I’m Y/N.” You extended your hand, which he didn’t take, the tiny bastard.

“Oh we’ve met. You were the one with the girls, holding his hand.” He pointed at Diego, sandwich in hand.

“I don’t understand, you weren-”

“Look kid, I’m sorry, but I can’t trust you, you need to leave.” Diego was ready to jump at him, but Luther stopped him and you grabbed his arm softly.

“It’s ok honey, I get it.” You whispered and left to look for Grace who was taking care of the girls.

You let out a sigh as you walked by your old room. You had been wanting to scream ever since you got there, but this was your first alone moment in the whole day, and a sigh was just as effective as a scream, it helped.

Then came the funeral, and it was hard. Luther scattered the ashes and you manipulated the wind so they wouldn’t look like a pile of grey shit, which actually, was an accurate depiction of Reginald, but you did it for him and Pogo, it was the right thing to do.

And after a few out of place comments, Diego and Luther started fighting right in front of your daughters, so much for the agreement. Luna and Amber started crying, hiding behind Five, who, much to your surprise, covered them with his body as he slowly took them inside. It was infuriating to see the men fighting in front of you, but you couldn’t help but smile looking at Five.

It was that moment that truly made you feel home, like you really were in family, and it warmed your heart.

-End of maybe part one?-

#i wasn't expecting to go this far #but i did #and i don't regret it #diego hargreeves imagines #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves fluff #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves fanfiction #the umbrella academy fanfiction #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy fluff #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy imagine

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katebacks · 4 years

Text

Kiss it Off Me - Jjk/Pjm - (M)

→ pairing | Jeon Jungkook x Reader , Park Jimin x Reader → genre | high school au!, smut, angst, bad boy jungkook → word count | 7,921 → summary | Jimin is a player on the school baseball team, you are his girl. Jungkook wants you to be his. → warnings | oral sex, Adult content, Violence, alcoholic beverages, low slang words,

The first time he saw you was when he was walking down the school corridor and he watched a girl in jeans overalls and a ponytail coming down the stairs with two other girls and three guys. You hugged a history book in you arms and laughed at something that one of the girls had said. Jungkook had been studying there since the first year of high school, but he never saw you in any of the school corridors, you probably should be a new student.

The second time was in history class, where you sat at the first table in the row by the window and for some reason he was unable to take his eyes off you for the rest of the class. In the canteen you sat with the same people who were with you the first time he had seen you, laughing at the jokes that the boys told and he for no apparent reason was jealous of them making you smile.

At the end of class, he saw you waiting for the bus and didn't leave until you boarded it.

The next day, the same thing happened. You were wearing jeans and boots, your hair was still tied up, and you were carrying the same history book when he saw you again, this time he was leaving the library, with one of those boys following you, with his arm around your shoulders. Jungkook felt envy, jealousy, he wanted to be that guy.

The next week, he was even more confused by the way you acted around your friends and when you were away from them. You were like him, you didn't smile and you didn't interact when you were out of your bubble. You were interesting to him, and he had never hesitated to approach someone he found interesting, but this time it was different, he wanted to observe you a little more, wanted to get to know you more, before finally approaching.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Jimin asked you as soon as they left the cafeteria. It was almost nine o'clock at night and they had just had a dinner with friends. Now they wanted to go to a party at the home of one of their schoolmates, but you would rather go home and watch a movie on Netflix instead of going to get drunk like all teenagers your age did. It had been a few months since you arrived in that city and this would be the first weekend that you would not let them drag you into some mess.

“I do. See you Monday at school." You then waved at them as they got in the car, and took the cell phone out of your jacket pocket to call for a taxi.

Across the street, Jungkook and two of his friends were walking, both with beer bottles in their hands, making fun of each other when he spotted you standing on the sidewalk, with your eyes on your cell phone. You wore a white skirt, sneakers of the same color and a black shirt. You were also wearing a school baseball team jacket and a peach baseball cap, after all, you were hanging out with two of the school team players, so using their stuff was like a law for anyone who was a friend of the team. Something popped inside him and before he could control himself, he was crossing the street towards you while the other two boys looked at each other in confusion, until finally seeing you there. They knew that since you stepped in that school, Jungkook had developed an unexplainable attraction to you.

“Hey” you looked up from your phone screen when you heard a voice. When you looked in the direction that that voice was coming from, you were surprised to see the boy with long black hair, crossing the street and running towards you. You knew who he was, one of the rebellious and socially excluded boys from school, the boy who only hung out with two guys and never spoke in any class. You had already seen him jump over the school walls to skip classes, sometimes you saw him under the bleachers in physical education classes smoking with his friends, you had heard his laugh when he laughed at some student in the hallways, but you never really heard his voice, because you never came closer enough to him to be able to hear him. He wore a black tee, on top of it a long-sleeved checkered shirt in black, White and gray and on top of a black leather jacket. His black pants were baggy and had boots on his feet. Your friends were pretty, Jimin, the boy you kissed sometimes was handsome , but he, no one would ever be as handsome as he was. "Hi." He said as soon as he approached, stopping in front of you, far enough not to invade your personal space, but close enough to get you drunk on the perfume he wore. And his voice was as stunning as he was. “You are (Y/N), right? We study together."

"Hm, yes." You answered uncertainly, never imagining that he would know who you were. You were silent then, he staring at you and you feeling embarrassed, trying not to look into his eyes that seemed to undress you. Soon you saw the other two boys who were dressed in clothes similar to Jungkook's, who were across the street, whispering something to each other and laughing. When they realized you were looking at them, they waved and you just shook your head in greeting.

"Why are you here alone?" He asked and you turned your attention to him who was looking at you now curious. "Did your baseball team boyfriend and the other two super powerful girls leave you behind?" He asked you through a chuckle. Anyone with the slightest intelligence would understand the irony he was using in those words, and you frowned, biting the corner of your cheek, trying to understand the reason for the irony. Did he have a problem with your friends?

“Actually, I was with them, but they wanted to go to a party and I preferred to stay and call a taxi to go home. And Jimin is not my boyfriend.” And you could have sworn you saw the beginning of a smile appear on his lips before he spoke again.

"Oh yeah? And does he know that?” He taunted, biting his lip before taking a sip from the beer bottle in his hand, without taking his eyes off you. You were never good at reading signs or understanding people, but at that moment he seemed to be flirting with you and just thinking about it, you felt like there were butterflies in your stomach.

"I hope he knows, or he will end up with a broken heart." And you bit your tongue, looking away from him for a moment. Jungkook exhaled and then smile, content with the answer.

"I would let you break my heart if you want to."You couldn't hide the surprise on your face when you heard those words coming out of his mouth, your insides twitched, your body shivered and a silly smile appeared on your lips, forcing you to lower your head, and use your hands to hide your face that was starting to burn. Jungkook smiled like a child when he realized that his line had supposedly worked, and finished drinking his beer, throwing the bottle into a trash can that was not far from where you two were.

“Hey Jungkook.” Taehyung shouted across the street, waving at his friend, making both him and you look at them. "Are you coming or not?" Jungkook just waved at them, asking them to wait a minute before turning his attention back to you who now looked at him with an innocent look that honestly was fucking sexy.

"We're going to my apartment, let's eat junk food, listen to some music and have a few beers. Want to come?" And again you were taken by surprise. First he was shameless flirting with you and now he was asking you out?

"Like a date?"

"Do you want it to be a date?" He questioned again teasingly. You rolled your eyes and laughed. He seemed to be willing to make you blush every second.

"You are not one of those crazy people who try to seduce innocent girls and lead them into a trap where they will be doped and transported to Turkey to be sold as sex slaves, right?" His eyes widened and he jerked back, blinking and looking at you like you were crazy before laughing and shaking his head in denial.

"Unlike my reputation, I am not an animal, at least not with those who don’t desserve it." He replied. "So?"

You took a deep breath. It wasn't every day that one of the most beautiful and mysterious boys you had ever met in life called you out with his friends. In fact, you didn't know anyone who had ever gone out with him and the other two guys and was always curious to know how bad boys acted out of other people's eyes. Ignoring the sermons and curses your friends would address you when they found out you were going home with Jeon Jungkook, you nodded your head in agreement.

"If you buy me a milkshake, I'm in." You shrugged and he smiled, showing his perfectly straight, white teeth, before running towards the diner behind you and returning minutes later with a glass of vanilla milkshake. So the two of you crossed the street, towards the other boys who greeted you and thus proceeded towards the apartment where he lived.You didn't expect them to be so much fun in the way they were showing off.

Nor did you expect him to live alone in an apartment in the suburbs of the city.

“I didn't know you lived alone.” In fact, I know almost nothing about you. You wanted to add, but left the comment only in your mind. As soon as you entered the living room door, already throwing yourself on the sofa that was leaning against the wall under the window facing the street, you observed the place, it didn't seem to be a very big place, the room was combined with the kitchen , were divided by kitchen counter and had only a small corridor that led to three doors and one of them was the bathroom, at the very end of the hallway.

"I share the apartment with Taehyung.” He said walking to the white refrigerator and taking three bottles of beer from there, throwing one for each friend and sitting beside you on the sofa, putting his feet on the coffee table.

"And did your parents accept it?" You asked with a frown and Hoseok, who was sitting in an armchair, not far from you, laughed and took a sip of his drink.

"It was either that or keep coming home after every business trip and finding drunk and drugged teenagers passed out in the corners of the house at six in the morning."

"Yah, you were the one who distributed the drugs at our parties, it's all your fault." Taehyung said laughing, sitting on the floor across the coffee table, and throwing a pillow at Hoseok. “But tell me... (Y/N), what's with the uniform? Does your boyfriend make you use this to mark territory?” He mocked and you looked at him offended.

"He is not my boyfriend." You answered with a frown. “And I am not an object to be marked as someone's property. I just like to wear it because it is warm and the cap is stylish.”

"If you're only wearing this because it's warm, then you should be wearing it." Jungkook said leaving the beer bottle on the coffee table, taking off the leather jacket he was wearing and holding it out to you who looked at him as if asking what he was doing. "Wear that, it's warm and stylish." You laughed and nodded, taking off your jacket and wearing Jungkook's. "Now take this off, it's ridiculous." He took the cap off your head and tossed it in a corner of the room.

“Wah, look at the preppy girl. Now you look like one of us.” Hoseok joked and you glared at him.

"I am not a 'preppy girl'."

“Come on, you are Miss Pristine, we are the drugged punks, and life goes on. Who wants pizza?”

You met a side of them that you didn't really think existed, they were like any boy your age, they were full of life, they were more ironic than normal, and they cursed more than they should, but they seemed to be a lot nicer than the rest of the boys at your school. Jungkook was being incredibly sweet to you, you didn't want to get drunk like they were doing, so he ordered some cans of soda at the same restaurant where they ordered the pizza, so you had something to drink while they talked. Unlike Jimin, he hadn't put his hands on you at any time, and even though he made it crystal clear that he was interested in you, he hadn't made a move against you. He was being very respectful.

You didn't even see the time go by, you had so much fun laughing at the stories and jokes that the boys told you that when you looked at the time on your cell phone, you got scared when you were shocked to realize it was two in the morning. There were messages and missed calls from Jimin and your friends. When you told Jeon you needed to leave, he sighed in defeat and his friends started making fun of him saying that he was in love and that he would probably cry in the bathroom after he took you home.

“You mean really cry or crying with his dick out?” And that was enough to make Hoseok throw himself in the armchair laughing out loud, Taehyung spat his own drink and Jungkook started to laugh, using one hand to hide his face embaressed with your sentence. You were less innocent than they thought.

The way home was filled with laughter and you singing the entire discography of The Neighborhood. When he stopped in front of your house, he turned off the engine and turned the music down. You looked at each other. His eyes alternated between your eyes and your mouth, and he finally had the courage to move his torso towards you, slowly, letting you watch his movements and stop him if you wanted him to stop, but you didn't. You let him approach you and finally touch your lips with his.

You stayed a few seconds like that, your whole body trembling, until finally you pressed your lips against his, and opened your mouth a little, letting his tongue slide against yours.

The first kiss was quiet, you could hear him breathing hard, almost like he wanted to control himself. His hand, which was on your cheek, slid towards the back of your neck, his fingers digging into your hair and pulling it lightly, making you moan between his lips, which triggered something inside him, making him deepen the kiss that was now full of lust and desire.

"You taste so good." He whispered, biting your lip and pulling, before kissing again, taking a hand to your waist, squeezing it, with the intention of pulling you into his lap, but you stopped him, breaking the kiss and moving your face away. He opened his eyes abruptly, bewildered, then his eyes turned away from you in disappointment, his jaw clenched, perhaps feeling guilty. He was obviously going too fast. "Sorry, I..."

"Do you want to come in?" You asked and it truly took you by surprise. His dark eyes lit up with lust and his pants, which were baggy and comfortable, were now causing him discomfort in his private parts. He raised an eyebrow, wondering if he had really heard what you said. "But we can't make any noise, my parents are at home."

"Apparently, I'm will have to gag you." He laughed and attacked your mouth again.

You were still wearing Jungkook's jacket, but you carried Jimin's cap and jacket in your hands. Upon entering your house, you did your best not to make a noise while walking up the stairs, you both took off your shoes, stepping on tiptoe, walking slowly down the hall until you entered your room. You locked the door behind you and left your shoes in the corner of the room. You put your cap on the dresser where you kept your lingerie, on top of some jewelry and some makeup products that you had used to get ready to go out with your friends. You threw Jimin's jacket into the closet, and finally looked at Jungkook who was sitting in your bed, his hands resting on the mattress as he watched you from head to toe.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" He whispered with a frown, as you started to undress, taking off piece by piece, slowly, giving him a show, a show he always dreamed of seeing. And with every piece of clothing you dropped on the floor, he wondered in his mind if that was really true and not one of the erotic dreams he used to have about you.

When you took your hands back, opening your bra and letting it slide from your arms to the floor, Jungkook whispered a curse and moved uncomfortably in place, swallowing hard at the sight of your breasts. When your fingers reached for your red lace panties, he held his breath, watching you slowly push it down, sliding down your legs until you were completely naked. This was paradise for him.

Jeon stood up, he took off his plaid blouse and threw it on the floor before reaching the collar of his black blouse and pulling it up, without ceremony, showing his six pack, making you rub your thighs and bite your lips, getting even more anxious. When he finally brought his fingers to the waistband of his pants, you found yourself walking towards him and holding his hands, making him stop. Jungkook looked at your face, looking for any sign of hesitation or regret, but instead, he found excitement, lust. You knelt in front of him, holding the waistband of his pants and pulling it down, taking his underwear with it, your mouth starting to salivate at the sight of his hard, thick cock.

You held it, listening to a low murmur from Jeon who kept his eyes on you. You squeezed it lightly and moved your hand up and down, massaging him, while he bit his lip, stifling his moans. And when your lips touched the tip, Jungkook blew out of his lungs and watched how you sucked it, how you swallowed it, how you made it wet. He threw his head back with his eyes closed and one of his hands landed on your head, grabbing your hair, moving his hips towards your mouth in tune until he was fucking you throat causing you to choke for a few seconds, completely forgetting that if you made too much noise, your parents could wake up and he would be screwed.

“Fuck, babe. You're driving me crazy. ” He whispered hoarsely, looking down at you again, and the look in your eyes only made him even more hard. "Come here." He called to you with his hands and you stood up. Jungkook placed one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, squeezing lightly as he walked backwards, falling sitting on the bed. He broke the kiss and lay down on the bed, holding your waist and pulling you forward. Soon he had his head between your thighs and his tongue and lips in your pussy, you put your hands back, spreading them on his chest and he moved his hands up your belly until they were holding your breasts, massaging them while squeezing and pulling on your nipples.

The pressure he made with his tongue on you clit, using his lips to pinch it lightly, was making your core tighten and turn. The pleasure was unparalleled with anything else, it was inexplicable. Swallowing your moans, and controlling your muscles that were beginning to want to get out of control, you bit your lip and started to move your hips, grinding your pussy against his mouth. Jeon laughed and increased the speed and pressure of your tongue, which made you roll your eyes and arch your back. It was too much, if you didn't get out of there, your mouth would end up giving you away.

You patted his arm, as a sign for him to let go of your breasts, so you can get off him, but he didn’t obey, because instead of just letting go of your breasts, he dropped his hands up to your thighs, holding you over his mouth. At that moment you lost control of your breathing, panting violently and biting your lips hard, while he stimulated you with his tongue. He found it so sexy when you held your own breasts and threw your head back when you started to come.

"Fuck." You whispered, your body starting to shake when the hot pain reached its peak and you held his hands on your thigh, shaking your head in denial, with your eyes closed tightly, as he continued to overstimulate you. "Please. I can't do it anymore. I'm going to scream." Your voice was cut off and desperate.

When he finally released you, you fell on the bed next to him, curling and placing your face against the sheet, trying to control your spasms. Jeon got out of bed, grabbing his pants, reaching into his pocket and taking out a condom packet.

"Are you alright?" He whispered in your direction and you laughed in agreement. "Do you want to continue?"

"Yes please." You said with sensuality in your voice, and Jeon gasped, tearing the package with his teeth and placing it on his dick. You, on the other hand, watched him from the bed, lying with your back against the mattress. He climbed back onto the bed, and crawled until his hips were between your legs and his hands beside your head.

"Raise your arms, place them next to your head." He ordered and you obeyed. Then he held your hands, intertwining your fingers as he positioned himself and pushed into you. You opened your mouth to moan, but he went faster and kissed you, putting his tongue in your mouth and not letting you make a noise. Jeon started to move slowly, your thighs at his waist. His movements were slow, but deep, they were short but strong, they were intense, and with each thrust you tightened a little more around his cock. "Your pussy is so tight, babe. So soft around my cock." And he lowered his lips to your neck. You moaned as you felt him nibbling at your skin, biting your lips, as he moved slowly over you.

Before Jungkook you never thought you would be able to come while sex was so slow, but as soon as you felt your core tighten, you stuck your face in the curve of his neck. He laughed. He wanted to increase the speed, he wanted to pump hard into you, make you scream, but he couldn't, or your bed would make a lot of noise and in two seconds your father would be running after him with a knife down the street. But just being there, fucking you, feeling your body, listening to your whining and whispers, that was enough to take him to heaven.

"Fuck, I'm going to come." He growled. “Fuck babe.”

"You want to grab a coffee?" It was almost six in the morning when you asked Jeon. He had his arms around his waist and you had your head on his chest. You heard him laugh, his chest swaying with laughter.

“Yeah, why not? We are already awake.”

You spent Sunday together running around the city, and you didn't take out your cell phone for a second to talk to any of your friends, you didn't have time because your hands were always busy touring Jungkook's body just as his hands were on your body. At one point you found yourself together in the city arcade, doing a Just Dance competition, betting who would be the most embarrassed, and it was obviously you because Jungkook was a wonderful dancer.

At night you said goodbye with a kiss and agreed to meet at school the next day.

You didn't know what to do or how to tell your friends about it.

You were so tired from the weekend that you ended up waking up late, missing your first class at school. After being able to explain to the principal why you were late, using a lie of course, you entered the hallway of your locker seconds before the signal for the break signaling the end of the first period hit and the corridor was filled with students.

"Girl, where were you?" Selina, the brunette, asked, approaching with Ariela, the redhead. You snorted, stuffing your books into the closet, and and slamming the door closed, before turning to your friends.

"I lost the time. I didn't hear my alarm clock.”

"Did something happen?" Ariela asked a concerned face. "You look tense."

“Yeah, and where were you yesterday? We called you all day, Jimin almost had a heart attack wanting to talk to you, but we couldn't talk to you at all.” Selina asked and you swallowed. Should you tell them what happened between you and Jungkook? Would they judge you? Would they fight with you? Would they be mad at you? They were your friends after all, they wouldn't do that, right?

“Hey Miss Pristine.” Someone's voice caught your attention and as you turned towards that voice, you saw Hoseok and Taehyung walking down the hall, both had provocative smiles on their faces and looked at you. Oh boy. "Or should we call you Jeon Jungkook's New Girl?" Jung raised his eyebrow teasingly while Taehyung laughed pointing at the obvious features of surprise on your friends faces.

"See you at lunch." Taehyung said waving in your direction and hitting a high five with Hoseok while both continued to walk with style and calmly, as if they hadn't just dropped a time bomb in your hands. Slowly your friends turned towards you, all waiting for you to explain what had just happened, but even before you opened your mouth to say something the signal for the next class hit and you felt relieved.

"I'll explain later." You said it and practically ran up the stairs to the second floor where your class would take place, praying that you wouldn't clash with Jimin or any of your other friends, afraid that the gossip was already starting to spread. You knew you hadn't done anything wrong, but you still felt guilty. When entering the room, the tension completely left your shoulders when you looked at the back of the room and saw Jungkook sitting on the last desk, his arms resting on the table, he was wearing headphones and his cell phone was on top of his book.

When he felt that someone was looking at him, Jungkook looked up, his face lit up with a smile when he saw you. Something was wrong, why did you feel butterflies in your stomach every time you saw that smile? You composed yourself when you saw that some of the students there were looking strangely in your direction, because you were standing like a dead body right in front of the door, then you walked towards your table, which consequently was next to his.

As you sat down, you looked in his direction and nodded before opening your book. Jeon took off his headphones and placed them on the table before reaching for you and grabbing the bottom of your chair, pulling and dragging you close to him, causing you to widen your eyes and use one of the hands to hold the arm that was pulling you, not wanting to fall off the chair. The other students who were already in the room and those who were entering, looked confused at you as Jeon released the chair and used that same arm to hug you by the shoulders and kiss the corner of you mouth, making you blush.

"You're late. What's it? Did I make you too tired yesterday?” He demanded, whispering close to your ear, and you shivered all over.

"The other students are staring." You whispered and he laughed softly, taking a look around before grabbing your chin and making you look at him, who had a provocative look.

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"No, of course not, but... Look, I still haven't talked to my friends about what happened and not even Jimin..."

"I thought you said he wasn't your boyfriend." He countered, arching an eyebrow, his eyes darkening again and you didn't even notice when you held your breath. "If he is not your boyfriend, why do you have to explain yourself to him?" You opened your mouth to answer it, but the math teacher's voice caught your eye, and you moved your head, looking at the man in his late thirties placing his briefcase on the table in front of the class. "We can talk about this later." Jungkook's voice said and before you could even look at him, he took his hand back to the chair and pushed you back into place.

The class was tense, you had never been so nervous in the presence of someone, but it still wasn't a bad nervous, you didn't feel bad around him, just anxious. But eager for what? You didn't know. Maybe you were anxious to know that you have to talk to your friends about it, or because you didn't know what Jimin's reaction would be. Maybe you wanted to have sex again with Jungkook, or were you just anxious for him to say that what you had was just a joke and that he didn't want you anymore, so maybe you would have less problems, but obviously you would have less fun too. Not that your friends or Jimin were not fun, but with Jungkook was different.

When the bell for the third period rang, Jungkook was one of the first to get up to leave the room, but first he threw a piece of paper on your desk, marching out of the room without looking back. You raised your eyebrow and while you closed your book, you read what was written, unwittingly rubbing your thighs together.

'I can't stop thinking about the night I spent at your house. Every time I remember your cunt tightening around my cock, I get hard and completely crazy with desire. I am looking forward to the next time. '

"I am screwed." You whispered before you banged your head against your book.

In the next period, you were running around the football field in your physical education class. Ariela and Selina were at your side and made no effort to contain the shock on their faces when you finished telling them why you were gone on Sunday and why Jeon's friends were interacting with you.

"Okay, I congratulate you for having sex with one of the hottest guys in the world, but what the fuck did you have in mind to go alone to a place with them?" The brunette scolded you. "They could have drugged you and raped you."

"They are not animals, and if you want to know, I really had fun with them."

"Okay, but what about Jimin?" Ariela asked and you looked at her confused. "When he finds out that you cheated on him, in your bed, in your room, where he hasn't even entered yet, he'll freak out."

“I didn't cheat on Jimin. We're not even dating, it's not like I owe him an explanation.” You shrugged, continuing to run, starting to get upset about that subject. "Why does everyone think I date Jimin?"

“You’re always together, you always wear his baseball team jacket and the cap too. Not to mention that most of the breaks, or studies in the library, he was kissing you in front of everyone. So people figured it out.” Selina explained, stopping running and putting her hands on her knees, tired. So you decided to sit in the stands to get some rest. "But the million-dollar question is, is he good in bed?"

You laughed hiding your face in your hands before you agreed and they started asking for details.

After the bell rang, you went to the women's locker room to shower and change. All the girls finished off quickly and went to the canteen for lunch while you decided to spend some more time enjoying the hot water, since you weren't that hungry.

After finishing the bath, you wrapped the towel around your body and walked towards your locker. You could hear the locker room door being opened and closed soon after. Thinking it was probably just one of the girls, you didn't bother checking, just grabbed your clothes from the closet to get dressed, but you jumped back a few inches when Jungkook came into your view.

He carried a pretentious look and a malicious smile on his devilishly perfect face, and you automatically hugged your own body that was covered with the towel, trying to ignore how tempting he was. He, on the other hand, would never ignore the fact that you were irresistible with just that white towel covering you.

"Someone can catch you here." You said, clearing your throat, trying not to rub your thighs together for the thousandth time that day. He tipped his head slightly before propping himself up in one of the cabinets, without taking his eyes off you.

"Are you worried that they'll caught me in the women's locker room, or are you worried that they'll caught me with you?"

“Both? Either way, we're both going to get in trouble.” You sighed and Jeon smiled. Oh boy, he was up to something.

He pushed himself away from the locker, and started walking towards you, his eyes locked on yours, and with every step closer he was to you, the heavier your breathing became, until he was finally inches from your body, his hands on your face and his mouth brushing against yours.

“So I better make it worthwhile.”

And then he kissed you, a calm and sweet kiss, a deep kiss, making your desire for him intensify. You put your hands on his shoulders, until you were hugging him around the neck, It was so different with him, you felt like you could kiss him until your lips were hurt, you felt like you could, and wanted to kiss him forever.

“Let me make you forget that rich fuckboy.” He whispered, his teeth nibbling on your lip, while his hands went to your hips. You didn't say a word, just nodded. You couldn't resist him and it was still the second day since you started go out with him. You didn't even want to think about how you would be on all fours for him in the next few days. You would fall hard.

"You don't have to make me forget anyone." You had the courage to speak. Jungkook opened his eyes and stared into yours. "I can't stop thinking about you since yesterday."

"I'm glad we feel the same way." He whispered before picking ypu up and carrying you to the back of the locker room, placing you on the floor behind the last row of cabinets. He plucked the towel from your body, throwing it on the floor, before pushing you against the cold iron of one of the doors, making you moan, grabbing your face with one hand while the other tucked itself between your hair. "We don't have much time, so I'll just make you come and later, I'll fuck you, yeah?"

“Okay.”

You swallowed hard when he started to drag his lips across your skin, stopping for a moment on your nipples before licking your belly and finally kneeling in front of you. Jungkook kissed your thigh before placing it on his shoulder. He felt water in his mouth as he looked at how your pussy was already wet for him, and the urge he had to put you on your back and fuck you hard was almost unbearable.

When his lips came in contact with your swollen clit, you had to bite your hand to keep from groaning too loudly and ending up attracting the attention of any student who was passing through the locker room at the time. That was the most stupid and dangerous thing you had ever done. If you were caught, you would both be expelled, probably accused of indecent exposure and arrested, so you could say goodbye to your perfect grades and college. But on the other hand it was the most delicious thing you had ever done. The fear, the danger of being caught only made your lust increase and your libido soar, and Jungkook felt it in you, because you were dripping, twice as wet.

“Please Jungkook.” You whimpered, and he took his mouth off you for just a minute, enough for you to complain quietly, missing the touch of his tongue.

"Talk to me, babe. What do you want?"

"Please make me come." You murmured and if he hadn’t the jacket on, you would see the hairs on his muscular arms stand up with your hoarse, horny voice. At your request, Jungkook sucked your clit again, letting you hold his hair and control the speed at which he did it. His tongue circled your point, while his lips pressed it, sending signals and spasms to your body that became stronger and more intense with every second, until you finally pour into his mouth with a low, long moan, feeling your muscles relax, and if he didn't have his hands on your waist, holding you, you probably would have fallen to the floor, because you felt like your legs were jelly.

Jungkook left the locker room first, but only after making sure that you were okay. You took another quick shower, and got dressed, leaving the room, still feeling your cheeks burning with embarrassment, you had no idea how you were going to face your friends after that.

When you entered the school cafeteria and tried your best to look like everything was normal, but the first thing you saw as you walked towards the table where you used to sit with your friends, was Jungkook's look at you and that made you feel your legs numb.

"Hey Miss Pristine." Taehyung's voice sounded and was followed by him throwing an arm around your shoulders, making you look at him with a smile. "You're going to sit with us today, aren't you?" He didn't even wait for you to agree or decline the proposal and practically dragged you over to the table where the other two were at, pulling out a chair for you right next to Jungkook. He, on the other hand, raised his eyebrow, looking up at you, as if challenging you to something. So you just sat down, making him smile and several students start whispering and asking each other what you, Park Jimin's untouchable girl were doing with those punks. "What do you want to eat? I'm going to get our lunch ... Okay, it doesn't matter, I'm going to bring everyone's Monday special." And so he marched away, making you blink in confusion. Since when was there a 'Monday special' in that canteen?

“You know, (Y/N).” Hoseok's voice caught your attention and your head turned towards him. “You look much better without that damn jacket.”

“Indeed.” Jeon agreed.

"Hm, (Y/N)?" You froze when you heard that voice. You had completely forgotten about Jimin. You saw the eyes of Jeon and Hoseok leave you and look at the one who was practically standing next to you. You cursed yourself mentally before moving your face and raising your head a little and looking at the blond boy who looked totally confused. "What are you doing?"

Jungkook scoffed, letting out a sarcastic laugh and looked at Hoseok. "Apparently, he's blind."

And while his friend was laughing, you turned wide-eyed to Jungkook, and Jimin blinked a few times.

"What did you say?"

"Did I stuttered?" Jungkook questioned, looking back at the blond boy who didn't seem happy with Jeon's petulance. Jimin knowing that starting an argument wasn't going to get him anywhere, so he just rolled his eyes and looked back at you who felt tiny at the time.

"We were waiting for you at our table. Why did you sit here? I didn't know you were friends with these guys."

"She owes you no explanation, man." Jeon's voice said and you could see when a vein in Jimin's neck popped out and he swallowed his saliva before turning around with an angry look at the boy next to you. His eyes were slightly wide, his lips were pressed, and his face was beginning to redden, not a good sign. You had seen Jimin nervous a few times, and every time it was in the games he played in, and it was sincerely terrifying to see him angry. You were always afraid when he was in that state. But what you didn't know is that Jungkook was not afraid and that he could be a thousand times more terrifying. "I mean, you're not even her boyfriend, so." Jungkook teased with a smile and Jimin frowned, slowly placing his clenched fists on the table and bending down to be the same height as the other. It was already beginning to attract the attention of the other students who were watching in silence.

"Who told you that I'm not her boyfriend, asshole?" He asked, slowly. Jungkook leaned forward and propped his arms on the table.

"She did, asshole."

And Jimin's eyes moved towards you like lightning. You didn't know what was hovering over his eyes at the time, but they were empty, and it scared you, scared that maybe you really hurt him.

“We need to talk.” You finally got the courage to speak.

“Please tell me this is not true.” Jimin said after you finished telling everything that had happened between you and Jungkook within two days. You guys were sitting in the bleachers and he was looking at you as if you had just committed the worst crime in history. "How could you do this to me, (Y/N)?"

"What do you mean by that, Jimin? I didn't cheat on you or anything.” You said, as offended as he was. "How was I supposed to guess that you thought we were dating? You never even asked me to date."

"I thought I didn't have to, come on. We already spent most of the time together and I wasn't seeing anyone else but you." He stood up, moving away from you a little, hands on his hips and breathing through his mouth. He felt betrayed, but deep down he knew he was wrong, and that he shouldn't be demanding anything from you, after all it was his mistake to never make his feelings and intentions clear to you.

"Jimin, I'm sorry ..."

"No, it's not your fault." He interrupted you, turning in your direction, seeing how shrunken you were. He knew you well enough to know that you only looked that way if you felt really bad about something. "I just ..." He closed his eyes tightly. "I'm really in love with you, (Y/N)." And so he opened his eyes and looked at you, seeing the shock that his confession had caused you. You didn't really expect that, so your only reaction was to lower your head and face your own hands. And that didn't surprise him at all. He knew from the beginning that you didn't feel the same way, so he had been preparing for rejection for a long time, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. "But I think you love someone else."

"It’s nothing like that ..." You lifted your head. "I barely know him, okay? It was a moment thing, I don't think I'm liking him or anything."

"But even so, what you felt for him was strong enough for you to take him to your room, (Y/N)." The boy said, hurt, frowning. "We were together for more than 3 months and I never even stepped on the second floor of your home." You lowered your head again, biting your lips, not holding to see the hurt look on his face. Even if you didn't like him the way he wanted to, you still adored him.

Both were silent. There was nothing to be said. It wouldn't do any good for the two of you to start discussing an issue that wouldn't get anywhere, it wouldn't do any good to start fighting with each other, it would only hurt his feelings and yours too.

The boy ran a hand through his hair, tilting his head back, staring at the sky that was previously sunny, starting to get cloudy, just like his heart. Jimin bit his lips a few times thinking if he just left without saying anything else or if he would say anything more.

"Please, give me back my jacket and my cap." He said, making you look again at him who kept his eyes on the sky. "I don’t think we should continue to use couple clothes since we have never been one." His voice came out full of hurt and spite, even though he didn't want to show that that was what he was feeling at that moment.

You opened your mouth to say something, but realized you had nothing to say, so you just mumbled a okay and stood up, turning to leave. walking towards the school entrance, but as soon as you heard something, you stopped walking and turned back, your heart breaking when you saw Jimin sitting down and hugging his head, hiding his face in his arms while crying compulsively. Your reflex was to go to him and hug him, to comfort him, as you had done in the last few months when he was sad about something and wept for it. Jimin was a very sensitive guy, and you loved that side of him. But at that moment you couldn't do that, you had no right to do that, because you were the reason for that cry, you had hurt him.

You then turned your back, your chest aching and wanting to burst into tears for hurting an incredible person like him, feeling like the worst person in the world.

What have you done?

#thekpopnetwork #bangtanarmynet #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #bangtan smut #mature #kpop smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #park jimin #park jimin angst #jimin smut #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader #dark jungkook #badboy au!#baseball

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nekojitachan · 4 years

Text

Hmm, I have no idea what this is, to be honest. Okay, so I know this is ‘what if Jean didn’t go to the Nest, if he ran away from home and stumbled across Neil/Nathaniel/Abram and Mary. And of course I’ve more in my addled head than this. But IDFK what I’m doing. *sighs* It’s been a bit of a crappy week and I’m still trying to focus on writing and at least I got this out.

Uhm, warning for Mary’s and Jean’s parents stellar parenting skills (child abuse but nothing too intense/graphic).

*******

“You will do as you’ve been told! Go pack the suitcase your mother has left in your room, and tomorrow you’ll-“

“No, I won’t! I won’t go,” Jean dared to argue, to yell at his father, confused and hurt by the unexpected news that he was being sent away, that his parents were getting rid of him. “I-“ His arguments were stopped by a harsh slap to his face, the blow just as startling as the pain; he heard Sophie gasp in surprise before his mother ordered his sister to go to her room.

He stood there with his hand pressed to his aching cheek while his father glared at him. “Go to your room and pack,” the man said, anger harsh in a voice which normally was bland with disinterest.

Jean fought to hold back the tears which threatened to spill down his cheeks, aware that his parents wouldn’t be affected by them in the least. No, most likely he’d only be slapped again, then shoved into his room for being so ‘emotional’.

Once he was inside his room, he heard the hushed voices of his parents as they discussed going to the airport in the morning and something about the Moriyamas, about things being over soon.

They didn’t mention when Jean would come back home.

He tried to do as he’d been told and pack his best (favorite) belongings in the suitcase, but then he caught his mother mentioning something about them moving, finding a better apartment for the three of them. A pain worse than the slap to his cheek made Jean double over when his father shushed his mother and told her they’d discuss it more tomorrow (after Jean was gone?), and then their voices faded as they walked away.

Maybe he really wasn’t coming home again.

It wasn’t… things weren’t always great. There were so many days when his parents left him and his sister to fend for themselves, when he had to feed Sophie (and himself) and get her ready for school. They moved around all the time, too, sometimes to horrid apartments where he and Sophie shared the same bed, and sometimes to very nice apartments. He never really understood what his parents did (and they discouraged any questions), but there were times when they had money and times they didn’t.

Rarely did his parents have any interest in him or Sophie, so it had been a surprise when they’d encouraged him to play Exy. They never attended any of his games, but at least he knew that Sophie was safe when she stayed to watch him practice or play, and his parents seemed somewhat happy when his team won.

He thought that maybe, if he kept improving… but no, all his parents wanted was to send him away, in the end.

The apartment was quiet for the next hour or two; he sat huddled on his bed in misery until he grew bored and got up to look at the suitcase as something to do. Unsurprisingly, it was cheap, poorly made and unlikely to last very long, adding to his suspicions that his parents weren’t expecting him to return. He gave it a sullen kick before he began to sort through his belongings to figure out what to pack. It was while he searched through his small dresser that he heard his sister’s voice; it appeared she wanted to know why he wasn’t joining them as his family went out for something to eat, and was told to shut her mouth.

Jean once more felt that sudden pain and remained as if frozen while the front door of the apartment closed behind Sophie and his parents. He didn’t move for at least a minute, until a sudden resolve made him lunge for his school bag then dump its contents onto the floor. Once it was empty, he filled it with the most important items he’d already set aside to pack in the cheap suitcase; a few pairs of underwear, his favorite tops and sweater, the most comfortable jeans, the pajamas Sophie had gotten him for his last birthday, and a small bag of toiletries. There was a pang of remorse over leaving behind everything else, only partially soothed when he tucked a picture of Sophie into a small pocket of the bag.

He crept out of his room, suddenly fearful that his father might have stayed behind, and let out a slow breath in relief upon finding the apartment empty. Right away, he went to into his parents’ room and looked for the one shoe box in their closet which he and Sophie had discovered one day was used to hide money. The amount changed over time, but there was always some stashed inside of it, and that day was no surprise.

The numerous rolls of bills inside of it were.

Indecisive for several breaths, he finally snatched about half the money and shoved the rolls into the bottom of his bag before he replaced the box then stumbled toward the front door. A tumultuous mix of guilt, panic and exhilaration made his heart race as he ran down the steps, still filled with disbelief over what he was doing and afraid that his parents would return at any moment.

He didn’t stop until he was several blocks away from home, out of breath from running and stunned that he’d dared to run away, to leave Sophie behind. Yet what choice did he have? Stay there and go through with whatever his parents had planned for him?

He might not know exactly what his parents were involved in, but he knew enough that the people they associated with were… well, not very nice. There was a spike of fear for Sophie, but his mother always made sure she was in her room or with friends when those people came by. As much as it hurt, he forced himself onward.

(What else could he do?)

The next few hours were spent wandering the city while Jean attempted to figure out what to do next; would it look odd if he rented a room for the night? Should he buy a bus ticket and go somewhere else? If so, where? Maybe he could go back in the morning and fetch Sophie? But what if his parents (or worse) were looking for him?

Tired and confused, he sat down on a bench overlooking the Old Port; he would have to decide what to do soon for the night. He hugged his bag against his chest and struggled with the urge to cry when he saw an older couple with a young child walk past, appearing to be tourists, laughing and pointing at the seagulls.

What was it like to have a happy family?

His view of them was disrupted by a middle-aged man who approached him with a wide smile on his face. “Hey, I haven’t seen you here before. What-“

“Ah! There you are! I thought we were going to meet at the café!” A young boy suddenly dropped onto the bench next to Jean and nudged him in the shoulder. “You’re buying now!”

“Eh?” Jean barely noticed the man, now frowning and muttering to himself, walking away since his attention was focused on the stranger next to him; he looked at least a couple years younger than Jean and was tiny, barely bigger than Sophie in fact, with a mop of unruly brown hair and light brown eyes. There was a light sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks and upturned nose, his clothes were over-sized and baggy, and he had a large backpack hung over his left shoulder. “Who are you?”

The boy glanced to the left, where the older man had been. “Nobody, really,” he said in a quiet voice. “You need to be careful. Guys like Phillipe jump on newbies like you.” At Jean’s confused look, the boy’s thin brows drew together. “You’re a runaway, aren’t you?”

Jean gaped at the boy. “How did you- who are you?” He hugged the bag even tighter to his chest and flushed with embarrassment when his stomach rumbled in hunger.

“Nobody,” the boy repeated with a sad smile, “but you can call me Lucien.”

Jean frowned as he studied the boy; did that mean that ‘Lucien’ wasn’t his real name? “I’m Jean, and how did you know that about me?”

Lucien shrugged as he slung his bag forward then rummaged through it to pull out an apple, which he offered to Jean; after a moment’s hesitation, Jean accepted it. “You’re out here alone, holding that bag as if it contains your most important possessions. You also have a lost look to you.”

Jean thought about that while he ate a few bites of the apple. “I… my parents… they don’t want me anymore. I don’t know what to do,” he admitted as he stared out over the port.

It was quiet for a few minutes, until Lucien sighed. “No other family?”

“No.”

“Ah.”

They sat there in silence once again, yet Jean was grateful for the companionship, the warmth at his side. They drew a few odd looks, but no one else approached them; it made him feel safe while he once more tried to figure out what to do. Perhaps a homeless shelter?

He was startled when Lucien stood up. “Oh, you’re leaving?” For some reason he felt sad about that, even though he’d expected the boy to go back home at some point.

“Come on,” Lucien said as he tugged at Jean’s left arm.

“What?”

“You going to stay here all night? Have anywhere else to go?” When Jean shook his head to both questions, Lucien made a tsk’ing sound. “Then come with me.”

Jean stumbled to his feet, grateful that he wouldn’t be alone any longer. “Thank you.”

“You’re too trusting,” Lucien chided as they hurried into the ‘old’ section of the city. “We need to work on that. And let me do the talking when we get to the apartment, okay? My mom… she’s strict and she doesn’t like surprises, but she looks after me.”

“Okay.”

Lucien was fast on his feet; despite their height differences, Jean struggled to keep up with the younger boy. It took them over ten minutes to reach an apartment on the fourth floor of a building which had seen much better days, into which Lucien slipped in after undoing several locks. “Mum, I’m home, and I brought a guest,” he called out, almost like a warning.

A small woman with similar brown hair cut into a shoulder length bob and light brown eyes stepped out of the kitchen to give Lucien an intent look before she turned to Jean. She stared at him for a moment before she grabbed onto her son’s arm and dragged him into another room. Confused by her actions, Jean jumped when he heard what was clearly the sound of someone being slapped, then a furious voice speaking quietly. It sounded like a woman’s, and the words were in English.

While he could speak English somewhat well, he couldn’t follow the conversation in the other room, other than a few words – ‘danger’, ‘foolish’, ‘confuse them’, ‘three not two’, ‘no one else’. Jean got the impression that Lucien was arguing for him, and after several minutes, things quieted down. There was another slapping sound, and a few seconds later, the two came out into the sparsely furnished living room.

Lucien’s mother gave Jean a cold look, her arms folded over her chest, while Lucien, his left cheek reddened from the slaps, offered an encouraging smile. “My son tells me that you’ve nowhere else to go.” Her voice was had a slight rasp to it, as if from smoking, and her gaze was sharp as if she missed little. Jean’s impression of her was that, despite her small stature, she was someone to listen to and respect.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She gave a slight nod as in approval for his respectful manner. “My son thinks we should take you in, even though we’re not in the best situation ourselves. Are you truly willing to leave everything behind, to do exactly what I say and not ask questions?”

Jean thought about Sophie… then thought about the cheap suitcase, about all the money in the shoe box, about his parents’ plan to move on without him. “Yes,” he agreed; if he had to leave everything behind, at least it was his choice. “Uhm, I can help out a little,” he offered as he dug into his bag for the money.

There was a slight (very slight) thaw in the woman’s demeanor (what did Jean call her?) when she saw the money; she motioned for Jean to set it down on the small coffee table. “That will help,” she said with an approving nod. “Go with Lucien, listen to what he says since you’re his responsibility now.” She gave her son a stern look while she fetched a coat which was draped over the back of the worn couch. “I’ll be back in a few hours. We’re leaving in the morning.” She grabbed three rolls of money which she stuffed into her purse and left the apartment.

Confused and amazed over what had just happened, Jean turned toward Lucien, who motioned him into a tiny kitchen. “Let’s get something to eat while I explain things to you,” the boy said. “It’s going to be a busy night.”

Jean set his bag down and followed his new friend.

*******

So without being all info-dumpy... Neil argued for Jean to tag along so they throw off anyone looking for them by there being three people/ a woman with two boys not a woman with one boy. Or even hey, a woman with a boy and a girl, not just a woman with one child. Mary (and even Neil, let’s be real) probably thinks that she can dump Jean in a few weeks or something, but yeah, that’s not gonna happen. It’s JEAN.

I figured this is within the first year after they left Baltimore, so Neil is easily swayed by Jean’s big grey eyes. He’s a bit of a softie. Mary is willing to try something different for a couple weeks (ha!) and the money helps.

And no duffel bag yet, the thing would be about the same size as our little Neil. He’ll get one in a couple years.

#aftg #nekojitachanfics #mumbling into the void #jean moreau #neil josten #mary hatford #jean's crappy parents #would this make him jean hatford?#neil as abram #neil as nathaniel #neil and jean growing up together on the run #idfk why my brain does this to me #oh it's raining #very nice

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yourcoffindoor · 4 years

Text

Bulletproof Heart Pt. 3

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

AN: Without further ado, here’s part 3! Sorry if there’s any typos that I missed, I kind of speed edited this one. I have one more part planned for this series, so the end is coming up soon. Hope you enjoy!!

From city to city, crowd to crowd, the tour continued on, and you went on with the show, your unwelcome encounter with Alex only making you more tenacious, more determined to outperform every band there.

You put on an unaffected front, making it seem as if you couldn't care less that he was playing Warped tour as well. Gavin was the only band member who knew about your history, and he fluttered about you like a mother hen ready to offer comfort or homicide at the drop of a hat. He would regularly attempt to gauge your feelings, but it only served to make you withdraw deeper into yourself, denying that could ever be shaken by his presence.

But the truth was you were shaken. You were scared. Scared that you would one day see that face smirking at you from a crowd and freeze, unable to ignore a presence so heavy and halting like a storm cloud threatening a downpour.

And then there was Gerard. You hadn't seen him since your first show, but your thoughts turned toward him again and again. What must he have thought that day, when Alex forced his way between you? When you stormed off alone? If he had tried to come and speak to you since that day, you hadn't heard anything. Did he think that there was still something left between you and Alex?

It was that thought that caused the most pain every time it crossed your mind, and you hated yourself for it. At night when you were alone your thoughts went around and around in the same infuriating cycle, from not caring what anyone had to think about you, to anxiously wondering if Gerard had someone else he was sharing that crooked smile with. You never let the words cross your mind or leave your lips, but your heart beat constantly with the hopeful thought: Please don't think that I could have feelings for anyone else.

Meanwhile, the Parties never ended--in fact they seemed to grow in boisterousness, picking up attendees like a tornado gathering wind. Your band mates went every now and again to socialize, but They held no value for you. Primarily because the chance of running into Alex was far too high-- You knew he would never miss an opportunity to get shit faced, and he would probably be skulking around in hopes of seeing you there, ready to latch on and torment you further. But beyond that, the chance of running into Gerard was likely to be less than zero.

That didn't stop your band mates from encouraging you to loosen up, hoping to pop the contemplative bubble that you'd encased yourself in for weeks.

"I'm gonna head out. What are you up to tonight? You should take a break from everything." Gavin suggested before heading out one night, despite knowing full well you'd die before you'd agree.

"I'll find something to keep me busy."

"I'd tell you to come with, but I know a certain someone you're crushing on won't be there."

"Oh really?" You flipped through a book on the table in front of you, playing dumb and failing miserably at it. "I do not know to whom you are referring."

"Yeah poor guy. Frank told me that there's too much pressure to drink here, so he's always in the bus alone. Bored. Desperate for human contact."

You gave Gavin the side-eye. "Alright alright, we get it."

He laughed. "Their bus is five down on the left. Y'know, if you feel like it. Thank me later." He said, darting out the door before anything could be thrown at him.

You rolled your eyes and flipped through the book, trying to read and forget the information that was just dropped in your lap. You remembered when you and Gerard had last spoke, how shy he looked when he attempted to invite you over before being cut off by Alex's sudden arrival.

Maybe a quick stop wouldn't hurt, you thought to yourself. He was in the middle of asking me to anyway...

Before you knew it you were on your feet, flinging on a jacket and taking a step outside. It would be the nice thing to do after all, since he can't leave the bus...

It took a bit of searching, but you finally found a bus with My Chemical Romance painted on its side in large black letters. Your heart did its familiar flutter as you walked up to the door, raising your hand and giving a rapid succession of knocks.

You heard a slight shuffle from inside, and after a few moments Gerard answered, his face changing from one of confusion to a soft smile as he shook the hair from out of his eyes.

"I hope this isn't a bad time," you said sheepishly, "I was told I could find some good comics here."

He flicked his spent cigarette to the ground, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth. "Is there ever a bad time for comics? Come on in."

You followed him inside, and he stopped suddenly. "Aw shit." he muttered.

"What is it?" you asked, concerned.

"I just realized we're fucking slobs."

He wasn't wrong, you observed with a laugh. The interior of the bus was divided into piles of organized chaos; clothes tossed into piles on the floor and empty chairs, makeup left open and scattered amongst soda cans by every available counter space. A few stray guitars sat soundless, happily resting until their next performance.

Gerard was obviously a bit embarrassed by the state of the place, as evidenced by the faint red blush that clouded over his nose and cheeks.

"Yeah, so its not exactly Buckingham Palace in here..." he joked, one hand anxiously running through his dark hair. His bashfulness only endeared him to you further.

"Well my bus actually IS Buckingham Palace, and it looks just about the same so don't feel too bad."

"Perfect. Anything to make you feel more at home." He mused, relocating some crumpled clothes from a small sofa nearby. "Have a seat, your majesty."

"I haven't seen you around in awhile." You noted as he hastily shoved things into cupboards.

"I've basically turned into a hermit when I'm not performing. Since I can't step outside without seeing a bottle, I don't really have much choice."

So Gavin was telling the truth. Hm.

"Well, the hermit lifestyle is probably underrated anyway."

He laughed softly. "Oh for sure. And I'll show you whats been keeping me busy this whole time."

Gerard shuffled to the back of the bus for a moment before returning with an armload of comic books, laying them proudly on the table in front of you. "These are some of my current favorites," he began after taking a seat beside you, close enough for you to admire the look of sheer happiness in his expression as he spoke. He was clearly in his element. "This one here has some of the best coloring I've ever seen."

You must have stared at him for a bit too long because he caught your affectionate glance and paused.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," you said, immediately breaking eye contact as heat flooded your cheeks. "Its just nice to hear you talk about them. You're so passionate about it."

He laughed. "Well its also nice to talk about them with someone who gets it."

You felt like you could fly right out of your skin. Everything about him made you feel a sense of belonging that you hadn't found with anyone else before.

"Hey when do I get to see that comic you said you were working on? I think you mentioned that the last time I saw you."

"Oh you remembered! Uh, one sec, I'll pull it out."

He wandered back into the unknown void that was his bunk, and came back with a folio filled to the brim with concepts, sample panels and character sketches.

"I'm pretty proud of this. Its a work in progress so uh...be gentle."

You knew Gerard was talented, but you were taken aback at the skill and creativity that had gone into this endeavor. Here he had created a world entirely his own and you were drawn in immediately.

"Gerard this is fucking fantastic! Seriously I need a full length comic right now."

"Right now? I'd rather talk to you."

You and Gerard talked as if you'd known each other forever. You found him to be witty and charming, but most importantly sincere; and the conversation flowed with ease.

"You know I'm a little surprised. I wouldn't have expected a guy like you to be alone in his bus on a big tour like this."

He laughed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean there's a lot of bands here that seem like they're only motivated by the attention they can get from girls. You're not like that."

"Its never been about that for me. I find those guys just as annoying as you do." He paused for a moment, hesitating as if he was unsure if he should continue. "Speaking of annoying...That guy, Alex--"

"Oh, yeah, sorry about him. I didn't even know he was gonna be on this tour since I haven't spoken to him in ages. I'm doing my best to avoid him."

"You seemed pretty upset when I saw you last. Just wanted to make sure he wasn't bothering you or anything."

You paused for a moment, replaying his words in your head to process them. Gerard not only noticed your reaction to Alex, he remembered and was concerned?

"So you guys aren't like...a thing anymore?"

"NO," you said a bit too eagerly. "I mean no, definitely not. I'd have to be crazy."

"Good," he replied softly, "I mean, I'm glad as long as you're happy."

You realized you had been making eye contact with his lips, the pair of you inching closer to each other with every syllable.

Your breath slowed, and you tucked a strand of stray hair behind your ear. "And...there's no one that you're involved with?"

"No," he confirmed without missing a beat, "but there is someone I have in mind."

If there was a speed limit for heartbeats, you would have been violating the law. Your next words came out almost as a whisper. "And who would that be?"

Hazel eyes flashing, Gerard cupped the side of your face with one hand, and you instinctively moved closer to meet his lips. The kiss felt like it was part dream, too good to be true as endorphins flooded your veins, a heat kindling in your stomach. You couldn't begin to tell if it lasted seconds or minutes, but still when your lips parted, it felt too soon.

"Oh." was all you could say, and the pair of you merely grinned, satisfied to be silent in the aftermath.

You caught a glance at your watch. 1:05 AM.

"I can't believe I have the willpower to do this," you began reluctantly, "but If I don't head back now I'll end up living here."

"I don't see the problem." he remarked, and you punched him in the arm.

"Thanks for a great night." you pecked him on the cheek, and before he had time to react, you jumped up and made your way towards the door.

"Come back anytime for more talk about comics!" he called after you with a laugh.

Your cheeks were buzzing and a warmth spread through your veins, giddy from your night with Gerard. You paused outside of your bus door, taking a deep breath to try and steady your heartbeat. You didn't want to rouse any suspicion from your band mates-not yet anyway. You just wanted to keep this moment to yourself for awhile.

After you cooled down, you quietly opened the door, hoping nobody would notice you sneaking in and that you could hop straight into your bunk. Instead you were met with Gavin and Liz sitting down on the sofa, looking very concerned.

"Hey," you said with hesitation, "Everything alright?"

They shared an uncomfortable look.

"Y/N, I'm not sure how to put this..." Liz began, fumbling with her fingers in an attempt to find the right words.

"What's going on?" you felt the blush from only moments ago drain away into cold dread.

"Its Alex," Gavin explained, "He and his band have been going around with a camera getting girls to flash them in exchange for backstage passes..."

You rolled your eyes. "So he's still trash. What does this have to do with me?"

"Well, the thing is, he's been telling people he has video of you. And him. Together. And that its gonna be included with the rest of the fucked up footage they're recording."

Your pulse started racing, erasing your giddy buzz from only moments before. You slumped into the nearest chair, trying to gather your thoughts.

"I never even knew I was being filmed..." you said softly. Nausea bubbled in your stomach as you were unwillingly dragged back into your intimate memories, a place you had successfully moved on from in recent years but whose impact you could never truly erase.

"Are you ok?" Liz asked, her voice low and gentle as though she was afraid you were about to shatter. Those words were all you needed to be set off.

"No. No I'm not fucking okay." You stood up suddenly from your chair, pacing. "Do you know how hard it was to leave that situation? Do you you know you much I struggled to make a life an a name for myself? How I had to rebuild myself after him? And now this?" You were shaking, your voice trembling with pent up emotion. "This was supposed to be an amazing, once in a lifetime experience. The beginning of everything for us. So why can't I just be left the fuck alone!"

Your band mates called after you as you stormed to your bunk, pulling the curtains tight behind you and burying your face in your pillow. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself break down, your unhindered sobs turning your pillow into an ocean.

#gerard way fanfic #gerard way x reader #gerard way imagine

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