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chaosofmanyfandoms · 2 months ago

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64 Oslo Square

"Companion' Middle English. From Old French 'compaignon', literally 'one who breaks bread with another.

Strapped for cash, John gets a job at a bakery as their new delivery boy. Juggling school and Queen and work is exhausting, but it's more than worth it. It's worth it because of you.

Warnings for this chapter: smut! slight sub/dom dynamics, i guess, i'm never sure, i just like being bossy. john gets topped, and i do mean topped!

A/N: i'm so sorry! i’ve been gone for ages! i've just got a million hyperfixations and they all take up a lot of energy you know how it is but but but hopefully this makes up for it

Chapter 11

Sweat beaded your skin, clammy and tight. Every breath you drew in was lukewarm and fetid, half someone else’s. Your feet hurt and your head was pounding and the floor was sticky beneath your new shoes, but you hardly noticed any of it.

John was pressed tight against you, and it was all you could think about, all you could bring yourself to focus on. His narrow body felt angular and hot; you could feel the heat coming off of him through his clothes.

It was Saturday night. The bakery had been yours for exactly six days. John had been yours for even longer. Now, pressed up against each other in a tiny Camden club, you could finally celebrate both.

The music was so loud, it had risen to a dull hum, pop music you were faintly aware of but didn’t know the words or the steps to. You weren’t being modest when you said you weren’t much of a dancer, but John didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his hands hadn’t left your body since he pulled you onto the dance floor, and he had enough moves for the both of you.

It had been an exhausting week, but the kind of exhausting that left your muscles glowing and your chest full at the end of the day.

Universities had finally broken up for the summer, so John had a lot more free time, and he’d spent most of it hunched over Gladys’ desk, running through 64 Oslo Square's accounts. He’d made it his solemn duty to uncover exactly what kind of impact Alastair had had on the bakery.

John was right, that night he walked you home and off-handedly wondered how the bakery could possibly be struggling considering it never lacked customers and the area was so affluent.

It turned out Alastair had been funnelling money out of the business for months, ever since he met Gladys. He had sought her out, plucked her from the vine, and pressed her between thumb and forefinger, squeezing her for all she was worth with a vicious smile.

Now he was gone, the bakery had come to life again. John found money ferreted away in all sorts of places, stored away for hard times, or just in case things went south for Alastair. Luckily, John’s astute head for numbers and figures got there first, returning what had always been yours back to you, like transposing music for one instrument to another.

Before too long, 64 Oslo Square could raise its head again. You didn’t have to beg for new kitchen equipment. You didn’t have to pray for a pay-rise. The scarlet front door could be painted for the first time in years, Mickey didn’t have to worry about taking care of his young family, and Gladys could hire more help, allowing you your first night out in almost a decade.

You met after work. John went home to shower and get changed, giving you time to figure out what on earth to wear on your first proper date with the boy you’d fallen in love with months ago. You kept having to remind yourself that you hadn’t actually told him yet; something about John’s pretty green-grey eyes made you lose all track of time.

When he picked you up, John looked less than pleased. Laughing softly at his turned-down mouth, you slipped a hand over his shoulder and pulled him down to your height so that you could press a kiss to his cheek.

“Alright, New Boy?”

“Hi, love.” John sighed. “Look, I’m really sorry.”

Frowning, you ushered him into your flat.

“Already? We haven’t even made it out the door yet.”

You smiled, hoping to reassure him, and it seemed to work. But John still looked troubled despite the little smile he summoned in return.

“C’mon, then. What’re you sorry for?”

With another, frankly dramatic sigh, John flopped down onto your couch like a sack of potatoes. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, splayed outwards in a ‘V’, his platform heels digging into the carpet.

It had been a while since he’d been in your flat. John looked so funny, collapsed on your couch. He was so tall and gangly, he made all your furniture look smaller, and tonight he was dressed up to the nines, his hair perfect, huffing and puffing on your second-hand sofa.

“I was telling Roger about tonight, you know, asking where we should go because he- And now-”

“He’s coming too?”

“And Freddie.”

John looked so despairing, you had to laugh. He looked like a teenager who’d been told he had to bring his little brother along to a party.

“I’m really sorry. I did try to tell them this was our first proper date but they’d already started planning what they were gonna wear, and you know what they’re like, I- We can just make this a night out, this doesn’t have to be-”

“John,” You spoke his name softly, gently, settling down on the couch beside him with an easy smile. “It’s alright. I really don’t mind.”

“You sure? We could always go to a different club or something. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t notice.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. I like your mates. And hey, you know, we can always lose them in the crowd.”

Brushing your fingers along the seam of his black satin shirt, you pushed your fingertips in, just below his shoulder, squeezing gently, reassuringly, insinuatingly.

“You said you’ve got moves,” you murmured, your fingers dropping to play with his hair. “You gonna put on a show for me tonight?”

John’s ever-steady gaze never wavered, even as you curled his pretty hair around your fingers.

“Maybe I’ll treat you.”

His voice cracked when you “accidentally” tugged on his hair.

“Ohhh,” You grinned. “Lucky me.”

And now here you were, moving against each other in the dark.

John really did know how to move. It just came naturally to him. The music flowed through his veins, his heart beating in time with the pounding bass, and all you could do was watch him and admire the nice boy who’d so softly changed your life.

He bought you a drink, then another, politely refusing your offer to get the next round in.

As predicted, you lost track of his friends almost immediately. You’d almost forgotten you weren’t there alone until John leaned down and murmured by your ear,

“D’you wanna get some air?”

There was no mistaking the intent behind his words, the way they wrapped around you, the spark they lit in his dark eyes despite the low club lights. Your pulse raced, your body reacting to every touch, every look, just the proximity of him, the promise of his presence.

What he meant was, do you want to go home? And you did. You couldn’t imagine wanting anything more in all your life.

John’s back hit the bakery door with a dull thunk. Giggling softly against his mouth, you apologised over and over, half muffled as he tried to kiss you between laughs, reassuring you that it was fine while his big hands pawed at your hips.

He tasted so good, you couldn’t bear the thought of moving away from him for even a second, so you fished around in your bag for the door keys without once breaking the kiss.

After several shaky attempts (thanks to John tugging your bottom lip between his teeth) you managed to turn the key, and together, you fell into the shop.

Stumbling backwards in his stupid platforms, John clung to your hips for support as you guided him through to the kitchen.

The thought of getting the next door open seemed too mammoth a task to even attempt at that moment, so instead you backed John up against it, pressing your body as close to his as you could, until you had almost been consumed by one another.

The protruding angles and flat planes of his narrow body felt sharp and unfamiliar as you sank into each other. Your mind swam with the endless possibilities; running your hands over his slim chest, kissing across his stomach, your hands keeping him pinned down with the slightest squeeze at his hips.

Every niggling worry you’d ever had about being good enough for John, about being with someone for the first time in years, about trusting someone with all of you, it had all washed away. All that remained was a chest fit to burst with love, and a desire so strong, it was all you could do to stop yourself asking if you could just have him right there and then.

John could obviously sense where your mind was wandering to, even as he moaned softly into your mouth. He squeezed your waist, then your hips, kissing you so deeply, your knees threatened to give way.

“We can’t do this here,” he managed to gasp out between kisses. “Not in the bakery.”

When you huffed a little laugh, your warm breath fanned across his cheek and he couldn’t resist the shiver that slipped down his spine.

You smiled against his mouth, pointed and pleased with yourself.

“My bakery now.”

John groaned roughly at your soft, low voice, and again as your tongue pressed against his. He opened himself up to you, letting you take his mouth as you pleased, his breathing growing heavy.

He couldn’t decide where he wanted his hands, they were everywhere, in your hair, pressing into your back to keep you close, tugging at your hips, his touches waking up your body and making your head spin.

“It’s always been yours.” John’s dark gaze met yours. “And so have I.”

You laughed, airy and quick, hoping to disguise just how much that meant to you, but John knew, John always knew. The last thread keeping your doubt and your fear yolked finally snapped.

Taking your keys from your hand, John half-turned to open the door, his free hand still palming and squeezing at your hip.

You tripped up the stairs together, giggling and breathless in your eagerness.

“You have too many doors,” John muttered when you reached your flat. “It’s like a bloody funhouse in here.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, John.”

He pressed the keys into your hand then tucked himself behind you so that you had room to unlock the door. Or so you thought. A shiver ran over your skin when you felt John’s breath on your bare shoulder, then his lips against your neck.

As he mouthed at your hot skin and grazed you with his teeth, you shakily jammed the key into the lock, finally managing to wiggle it open just as John dragged his tongue over a spot that made you want to completely unravel.

There was no time to savour the ritual of undressing each other, neither you nor John had the patience for it right now. Instead, you practically tore his pretty satin shirt open, dragging the sleeves down his arms as you backed him up towards the bed, never once breaking the kiss.

“Oh God,” John laughed softly against your mouth when the cuff of one of his sleeves got caught on his watch. “Hang on, love. I’m not going anywhere, you know.”

“I know, but I’ve been wanting to do this to you for months. You can’t blame a girl for being impatient.”

“‘To me’?” John grinned as he shook off his shirt. “You mean ‘with me’?”

You just smiled and pulled him back down to kiss you.

Head still spinning from the nightclub, the rum in your blood, John’s aftershave, John’s everything, you hardly noticed him slipping his long fingers under the hem of your dress and pulling up and up and up, until you begrudgingly had to stop kissing him to let John pull it over your head.

“Oh, wow.”

It was all you allowed John before you planted both hands against his chest and pushed him into sitting on the edge of the bed.

You kicked off your uncomfortable shoes and got rid of your bra, and all the while John watched you with warm, full eyes, his mouth hanging open.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and for the first time in your life, you believed a boy looking at you.

“Yeah?”

Your movements slowed under his heavy gaze. Something about the look on John’s face made you want to take a breath.

When he raised his hands, you moved closer without a word, standing between John’s knees while he looked up at you in awe.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured as he dipped his head to press a kiss to your sternum.

When his fingers pressed into your bare skin, you tensed, sucking in a sharp breath.

John looked up at you curiously, his clever grey-green eyes so clear and bright.

“Sorry,” You smiled. “Not used to- It’s been a while. Not used to being touched there. Feels a bit…”

“What?”

John punctuated his question with a soft kiss pressed sweetly to the swell of your right breast. His other hand came up to cup the other gently, his thumb sweeping across you, circling and circling, his sharp eyes never leaving yours.

“The last boy…”

“The idiot?”

You smiled.

“Yeah, that one. He didn’t really like the way I looked.”

“What’s not to like?”

John frowned.

It wasn’t really question but you felt the need to explain.

“Kept trying to “help” me. Used to piss me off no end. Eventually, he stopped touching me. Wasn’t seeing him for very long but he was the last person…”

John shook his head, his brow furrowed, his funny mouth all turned down at the corners.

“I can’t believe you gave him the time of day.”

“Well, he had his own car...”

“Fair enough.”

John briefly smiled, then he shook his head again, as if he couldn’t even joke about it.

“I’m glad you’re shot of him. Means I get you all to myself. And to me, you feel soft…”

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the middle of your belly, taking his time, dragging his teeth, his eyes closed to savour the feeling.

“And warm…”

Another kiss, this one to the left of your navel, while his fingers pressed into your hips and tugged you closer, until the tip of his nose was buried in your stomach.

”And inviting…”

Cheeks burning, you slipped your fingers into his hair, grazing your nails across his scalp.

“John…”

John’s stare met yours as his hands slipped round to squeeze your arse, pulling you closer still. His open mouth split into a grin before he bent his head to drag his tongue across your skin.

“You’re perfect. You’re so beautiful, love.”

It wasn’t often you were left speechless, but if anyone was going to manage it, it would be John Deacon.

You bit your lip, shaking your head to yourself, as you quietly watched him press more and more kisses down the centre of your stomach.

“Been wanting to touch you like this since the first time I saw you.”

John had spent so long thinking about kissing you like this, imagining how you would feel, how you’d taste, the lovely sounds you’d make, how your body would feel against his, and now he’d got his answers, he never wanted to stop.

You laughed as you closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against your shoulders, giving yourself up to him. It was hard to focus, so you just let him press little kisses all over your body, round your hips, across your belly, down your thighs, until his fingers slipped between your legs and you gasped, electricity shooting through your veins.

Biting back a smile, you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and pulled it up between you, like you’d caught him stealing. The excited smile was wiped from John’s face when you leaned in close and murmured against his neck,

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, sweetheart.”

“‘s funny,” John stretched his long fingers out, splaying then relaxing them again, testing the strength and limit of your grip on his wrist. “I thought I was exactly where I needed to be.”

“‘Needed��?”

“Mm hm.”

“Not ‘wanted’?”

“The two get sort of mixed up when I look at you. You’re very- You make them, erm, homonyms.”

“I think you mean ‘synonyms’.”

“It’s hard to concentrate with your tits in my face.”

“Fair enough.” You smiled. “We’re getting off topic.”

“Are we?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been talking?”

“John!”

He laughed when you batted his shoulder.

“Love, I can barely remember my own name right now.”

“You were getting ahead of yourself.”

“Actually, I do remember disputing that.”

“Of course you do.”

“What’s your point, love?”

“My point is,” You carefully placed your knee on the mattress beside John’s hip. “I didn’t say you could touch me there.”

John’s eyes switched excitedly across your face, but his easy smile faded as you straddled his thighs, settling in his lap.

You sighed and looped your arms around his neck, curling your fingers into his thick, dark hair.

“I didn’t realise-” John swallowed when your bare chest pressed against his. “I had to ask permission.”

Feigning confusion, you frowned quizzically, and all the while, you slowly grazed your nails across John’s scalp. He shivered against you, his muscles shifting beneath his pale skin.

“We’ve known each other for almost a year, John. Have I ever given you the impression that you’d be calling the shots here?”

There was a point in his neck, neatly positioned between his shoulder and his protruding collarbone. You could see the steady, perfect bass line of his heartbeat pulsing under his skin. It jumped when you rolled your body into his.

“Couldn’t help myself,” John let his heavy eyelids close, focusing on keeping his breathing even. “Did I mention you’re beautiful?”

You tilted his head back and kissed him, your tongue rolling over his, too riled up to wait for permission. You kept his chin up with your hand against his throat, the pad of your thumb pressing into his thready pulse.

Kissing John was unlike anything you’d ever known. Other boys grabbed at you, pressed selfishly into you, taking what they wanted and not caring how it felt for you. They were too rough, unimaginative, or simply just looking for a way to stave off boredom. But John…

As John’s lips moved against yours, it felt as if you were speaking the same language as someone for the first time in your life.

Skilled hands smoothed up and down your back, finding every part you wanted him to find, every part you wanted him to warm, as if he could read your mind. His lovely nose bumped yours whenever he turned his head and you could feel his smile every time you made an appreciative sound.

He was attentive, thoughtful, just like you knew he would be, just like he was when he played. He might look like his mind was elsewhere, but John was honed in on every note. He knew them all, he knew you too.

You must’ve shifted just where he needed you, must’ve slotted your body against his in just the right way, because John suddenly broke the kiss with a wet sound that made you swear under your breath.

He cut you off with a low, sonorous moan, his soft lips parting so you could see his pretty, pink, antagonising tongue.

“Just like-” He groaned again and this time his big hands found your hips, moving you so that you rocked against him just like he needed again. “That feels good. Shit-”

You could feel the hard outline of him through his stupid tight cord trousers. The friction alone was enough to send thrums of electricity through your body.

You hummed, pleased with yourself. You were admittedly a little rusty. Before tonight, you had half a mind to warn John just how long it had been since you’d been intimate with anyone, but it appeared you hadn’t lost the knack. Either that, or John was extremely receptive.

Beneath you, he moaned and let his head fall forward until his face was buried in your chest, his voice vibrating through you. All you were doing was rocking your hips into his, tugging on his hair, grazing your lips by his jaw. Yes, very receptive. You couldn’t wait to get your hands on him properly.

Then again, you had never dared to ask how long it had been for him either. You weren’t stupid, John had been with girls before you, at home, at uni. He’d never mentioned anyone. Maybe there was no one worth talking about. Anyway, everyone in your life seemed to agree that when quiet, thoughtful, reticent John finally did speak, the only thing he wanted to talk about was you.

You kissed him again, twice, three times, then squeezed his shoulder.

“Get comfy. I’ll stick some music on.”

You wobbled to the record player on unsteady legs and put on something soft and slow, warm and romantic.

When you came back, John had shuffled up the bed until his back was against the headboard. He looked so silly, sat there shirtless, his trousers and heels still on.

His sharp eyes followed you as you moved around the bed, but John wore an enormous grin, his face flushed, his slim chest heaving. He was the prettiest thing you’d ever seen.

“Did you mean to say that out loud?” John asked, his smile growing.

In an effort to mask your embarrassment, you wrapped your hand around one of his ankles and gently tugged him round until his legs were hanging off the side of the bed.

Giggling together, you hefted his leg up to your waist and pushed up his trouser leg.

“I love these shoes,” you murmured, admiring his black and white patent heels. “You’re such a bloody tease, Deacon.”

Sitting up on his elbows now, John raised his eyebrows as you started to unlace one of his platforms for him.

“You like them?”

“Like them? I’m trying to decide whether I should make you leave them on.”

You took off one shoe, then the other, dropping them to the floor so you could kick them under the bed. His trousers came off next, leaving you both in just your underwear.

You said it yourself, you’d known each other for almost a year now. That was a long time to wait to touch each other. John seemed to agree.

As you settled back in his lap, his hands immediately found your hips, pulling you down so that you could feel exactly what you did to him, and the infinitesimal strands holding the last of your reservations together finally snapped.

“You’re so pretty.” You murmured the words against his lips this time, so he knew you meant it. “I love your mouth so much.”

Curiosity sparked behind John’s eyes, and you wondered if anyone had ever said anything even remotely similar to him before.

With one hand resting on his narrow shoulder for balance, you took the other and dragged the pad of your thumb across John’s bottom lip, taking your time. They were a little chapped, he was always worrying them between his teeth, and a shade darker than usual tonight, bruised by your own.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been wanting to play with this pretty little mouth of yours?”

John’s eyes widened, his lips falling open as a soft moan escaped him, one you were sure was completely involuntary.

Beaming, you reached down between you and wrapped your other hand around him through his straining underwear.

Those eyes again, they gave away so much. John’s expression hardly twitched, but his eyes grew glossy and heavy as you worked him, purposefully slow, until he had completely melted into you.

“Goddd, feels so good…” His eyes rolled closed, his jaw slack. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

With the tip of your index finger, you grazed his bottom lip, then dipped in a little. John cracked his eyes open, you could feel him watching you with interest. Breathing shakily, you kept going, parting his lips to gently push your finger against his tongue.

“What do we say?”

John’s brow furrowed, summoning up a crease between his eyebrows that you couldn’t resist kissing away.

“Please,” he gasped out.

Your finger slipped into his warm mouth with ease. John immediately swirled his tongue around it, whimpering and moaning as he sucked gently, so needy for you that his hips bucked up into your hand

“Oh, dear…” you practically purred. “Someone’s eager.”

John groaned around your finger, his eyes widening when you added another. He squeezed your hips in time with every stroke of your hand, silently urging you to keep going while his mouth was occupied.

Once he’d got them nice and wet, you pulled back your fingers and drew your index along his bottom lip.

“Good boy,” you whispered, then popped your fingers into your own mouth to taste him with a moan. “You’re even sweeter than you look, my darlin’.”

John thought he must’ve died and gone to heaven. That was the only explanation for it. How else could he be here, with you, your lips against his and your hands anywhere you wanted them?

You kissed both his pink cheeks, then the corner of his lovely mouth, and all the while, you palmed him through his stupid tight pants.

John looked up at you like it pained him to not have your mouth on his properly, but your hand pressing firmly down on his hard length pulled his expression from agony to ecstasy.

“Love, if you don’t do something soon, I swear, I’m gonna-“

“What?”

You removed your hand, eyebrows raised.

John bit his lip, trying heroically to hold back, but he couldn’t help it. He let out a disappointed whine.

“Love…”

He bucked his hips, trying to press himself into your hand.

Satisfied, you carefully clambered off him.

“Mm, that’s what I thought.”

“Wait…”

John tried to pull you back into him but you distracted him with a deep, searing kiss, keeping his brain occupied so your hands could work.

Though he missed you being close to him, John couldn’t keep the grin from his face as you pushed him down flat on the bed, his head safely nestled against the pillows.

In his chest, his heart was pounding like a bass drum. He wanted to shout so your neighbours could hear. He wanted to run to the windows and declare to the whole city that this was the greatest night of his life. He wanted to tell the world that he was the happiest he’d ever been and he was in bed with the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. But he settled for gazing up at you and thanking his lucky stars.

Kneeling beside him now, you took a moment for yourself to just enjoy the scene before you. It was selfish really but you thought John could stand to wait a few seconds while you took him in.

His long hair was spread out across the pillow, dark curls that took hours to set just right. You smiled to yourself.

He was a walking contradiction. He was such a low maintenance boy, so happy to do whatever you wanted to do. No fancy clothes, no ridiculous car, no expensive bad habits. But John cared about how we looked. He cared about doing well at uni. He understood music better than most and cared about Queen’s future. He just never made it anyone else’s problem.

It was only in the last few months that you’d really seen him open up. You couldn’t wait to discover the rest of him. ‘Easy Deacon’, they used to call him. Everything just came so naturally to John. You knew that wasn’t exactly true, but the thought of having a good, kind, lucky, sensible boy in your life, in your bed, might just be the most wonderful thing that ever happened to you.

“Can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about this,” you said.

John swallowed thickly when you pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, then his sternum.

”Oh, yeah?”

He was still so slim, even after all your best effort. You could pick out each of his ribs as John sucked in a deep breath.

Kissing your way down his chest, you paused to rest your chin over his heart, trying to feel for it.

John’s head was thrown back, his jaw high and his neck exposed, so he didn’t see your fond smile, or the pang of emotion behind your eyes as you turned your head, aching to hear the rounded, powerful, thump thump thump of his heart.

It pounded harder than you expected. You could almost feel it pulsing against your cheek, strong and full and just for you.

“You’re having palpitations, Johnny.” You raised your head and caught his eyes. “You wanna stop and catch your breath?”

John exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh, there was no humour in it. He obviously didn’t think that was funny.

“If you stop now, I think I’ll pass out.”

“Well, can’t have that.”

You kissed your way down his chest, taking your time, savouring the feeling of his hot, flushed skin against your lips.

You took note of every muscle twitch, your ears pricking at every sharp intake of breath. Learning what made the famously stoic and impassive John Deacon moan and squirm was going to be fun.

You peppered more kisses down his chest, taking the time to flick your tongue across both nipples, just to make John’s hips stutter. Face flushed, he groaned almost in protest, but didn’t move to stop you at all.

You pushed further, kissing your way down his stomach, until John was half giggling, half whimpering. He bit down hard on his lip, his long fingers reaching out and finding a home in your hair, where he tugged ever so gently, like he was trying to spur you on but didn’t want to risk making you stop again.

“Love, that…” John hissed through his teeth as you licked a stripe up his belly. “That tickles.”

You laughed softly.

“Does it? Sorry.”

“No, don’t b- Ohn…”

You looked up at John, the skin just below his navel still caught between your teeth. You let it go slowly, dragging at his skin, and all the while you watched his pretty face contort and soften, his teeth practically embedded in his bottom lip.

“Sorry, what was that?”

John huffed, his fingers tightening in your hair as you kissed down the front of his underwear, slow and hot, teasing him on purpose, drifting so close to where he desperately wanted to be touched, but never quite there.

Enough torture. You hooked your fingers under the waistband of his pants and slowly dragged them down his pale thighs, pausing only to place kisses on either side of his bony hips, and the contrasting softness of his inner thighs.

“Just relax, Johnny. It’s only me.”

You smiled against his skin, watching his face contort and shift as you tugged the waistband of his underwear down against him, a mean trick but worth it for the soft little noises he gave in response.

“I’ve got you, love. Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

John whimpered, his chest rising and falling fast. His eyes stayed fixed on yours as you pulled his pants all the way down, until his aching cock was pressed against his stomach.

“Oh, hello,” You laughed, disguising just how embarrassingly turned on you were with a quirked eyebrow and a wobbly smile. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

Despite his nerves, John huffed a little laugh too.

It had been a while since anyone had seen him like this. Somehow, it felt like the first time. You were the most important thing in his life, the most beautiful, wonderful person he’d ever known, it mattered what you thought, it mattered that you liked how he looked.

He watched you take him in, watched your pretty eyes cross his body, and for once, didn’t feel self-conscious under someone else’s gaze. John knew you wouldn’t care what he looked like but he couldn’t help blooming with pride, his cheeks prickling at the pleased look on your face.

John sucked in a sharp breath as your hand wrapped around him, moving up and down his length slowly, almost absent-mindedly, while you soaked up every new detail exposed to you, every new valley and slope, memorising every detail of his body until you could see him behind your closed eyes.

Then you squeezed him, testing the boundaries of his patience, and John lost all sense of bravado and decorum. He groaned, letting his head drop back against the pillow, panting now.

“Fuck, sweetheart, please…”

You tilted your head to the side, feigning obliviousness.

“Please what, love?”

“Just, please…” John moaned again, his hips pressing up into your hand, searching desperately for more pressure, friction, anything. “Please touch me. Feel like I’m gonna…”

You didn’t get to hear the rest, John’s eyes suddenly widened and he put his much larger hand over yours.

“Wait, this isn’t right. I should be- I should take care of you first.”

“What? Because it’s the gentlemanly thing to do?”

“No! Well, no- No, that’s not why I’m asking. I want to make you feel good. I should get you off first.”

Somehow, even though you had his dick in your hand, hearing John talk about ‘getting you off’ made you go all bashful.

“Why should you?”

“Well,” Looking oddly relaxed for someone in his position, John sat up on his elbows. “It’s just maths, innit.”

“Don’t say ‘innit’, you’re from Oadby.”

“I’m finally picking up the lingo. My point is, it’s maths.”

“Is it now?”

You smiled and sat back on your knees.

John’s eyes followed your hands as they left his body to drag across the mattress. Being cheeky had been a risky move and he’d miscalculated, you weren’t touching him anymore. He’d have to make sure it was worth it.

“I’m a bloke. You can cum again and again and again, but I get one shot at this. Two if I’m lucky… Three would probably kill me.”

“It’s tempting right now.”

“I’m just saying,” John’s grin was toothy and silly. He looked about the most relaxed you’d ever seen him. “I’d like to get a few in before I, you know, close up shop.”

“Well…”

You carefully placed your hands on either side of his body so that you could move over him. Placing your knee between his thighs, you leaned in close to murmur against his lips.

“How’s about I take care of you, properly. Like I’ve been thinking and dreaming about doing for… Hm, when did you start at the bakery?”

“30th January.”

“Right. Six whole months, John.”

“Almost seven.”

“Almost seven! Yes! Y’see!”

You kissed the tip of his nose, then his cheek, while John laughed softly, nuzzling his face against yours.

“How about… I take care of you. And then you can - what was it you said? - make me cum again…”

You kissed him.

“And again…”

Another soft kiss that made John’s whole body light up.

“And again…”

The rough pads of his bass-bitten fingers grazed your scalp as John slipped a hand back into your hair, keeping your mouth fixed to his, as if letting you move away would be allowing you, the night, that moment, to disappear.

Moaning softly into your mouth, John ran his tongue over yours, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You’re very persuasive.”

You grinned, feeling silly and happy and safe.

“‘s just maths, innit.”

“Mm,” John nodded and kissed you again, then pressed his nose to yours. “Sounds much better coming from you.”

“What was that about ‘coming?’”

“Oh-hoh, you’re on fire tonight.”

“Well, let’s see, shall we?”

You wrapped your hand around him and swallowed his surprised groan with a deep, slow kiss, matching the movement of your hand with your lips.

John shuddered beneath you, gripping you tight as your thumb absentmindedly swiped over the head of his cock.

Completely lacking all composure now, John’s hips jerked up into your hand, chasing a high you couldn’t wait to give him.

“You’re so fucking pretty, John.”

Cheeks tinged pink, he turned and buried his face in your forearm.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“It’ll-” He choked, his hips jumping into your hand. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

Smiling, you leaned down to kiss him slowly.

“That’s kind of the point, pretty boy.”

The only sign that he’d heard and understood you was a keening moan.

John shut his eyes, his brow furrowed like he was concentrating, the same sweet little frown he got when he played the bass.

Your cheeks were starting to ache, you were so smiling so broadly. With one knee, you gently nudged his legs further apart, then hooked your hand under one of his knees so that his foot was firmly planted on the bed.

John opened his eyes but there was nothing behind them. He blinked at you, his mouth open, his pale, slim chest heaving. He had just enough wherewithal to ask,

“What..?”

Still smiling, you swapped hands, getting him off with one while you slipped the fingers of your dominant hand into your mouth.

John’s pretty eyes dropped to follow your hand as it fell between his thighs.

“Trust me?”

He bit his lip, eyes wide, when you circled his entrance, massaging it. You could feel his whole body seize up immediately, like you’d electrocuted him. Then, just when you thought he might ask you to stop, he said,

“Yes.”

It was only a whisper, so you made him repeat himself, just to make sure.

John nodded furiously, repeating ‘yes yes yes’ over and over as you pushed your finger against him.

John’s legs instinctively rose to hook around your lower body, his ankles crossing almost delicately behind you while he gasped and huffed, kneading at your hips to keep himself grounded as you gently worked him open with one finger.

You swallowed his hiccuping moan with another kiss, keeping him distracted, getting him used to the unfamiliar feeling.

“Relax, sweetheart,” you said, dropping your other hand to soothingly rub his thigh. “Just wanna make you feel good. Can you take over, sweetheart, while I..?”

Without loosing a beat, John’s fingers brushed yours as he wrapped them around his cock. You gave him one final squeeze before you let go.

You could wiggle your finger around now, and you worked a second in, twisting and scissoring, dropping little words of praise and encouragement when John began to grind down on your hand.

“Ohhnfuuck…” he moaned, his head flung back to expose his neck.

You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, watched his pulse jump under his jaw, and felt a swell of affection when John moaned your name. His tried to speak but his voice cracked, punctuated by sharp gasps whenever you pushed that little bit further.

“That’s it, pretty boy. That’s it. Just like that, sweetheart.”

Keeping your fingers moving steadily, you bent your head and nipped at his belly, then his pelvis, making your way down until you could nudge his hand away with your nose.

John seemed to begrudge the thought of letting go but you kissed his fingertips, then the base of his cock, and he released himself with a frustrated whine.

“Love, I’m-”

You stopped him complaining by dragging your tongue up the underside of him. John completely melted under your touch, his voice wobbling uncontrollably as you swirled your tongue around his head.

“Sweetheart, please, please, please-”

“Please what, Johnny?”

“Please don’t stop, please please please don’t stop, feels so fucking good when you- Ah!”

Though your muscles ached, you couldn’t imagine stopping now, not with John begging like that, so you shifted the position of your hand.

“When I what, honey?”

The new angle made John tense up again, his wispy little fringe now sticking to his forehead. But then you took him in your mouth, licking him clean and sucking at his swollen tip, and his whole body went slack.

“Ohhhn, when you fuck me like that.”

You couldn’t help it, you moaned around his cock, long and half feral, the vibrations making John’s eyes roll back.

Still your fingers fucked into him, stretching and pushing towards a pleasure that John wouldn’t have believed was possible, and then you hit a sweet spot inside him that made his back arch off the bed.

“Right there,” he gasped out, eyes squeezed shut, his body trembling. “Right there, that’s it, right there, right there. Don’t stop, don’t stop, please.”

”I won’t, I won’t. I’ve got you, sweet boy.”

He took himself in his hand again, squeezing and tugging. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. Seeing John like this, completely at your mercy, his mind completely disconnected from his body, it made your belly twist. He was completely yours, this was all just for you.

John cried out, begging you to go faster, so you did, and his hand sped up to match your thrusts. He squirmed against you, rocking his hips so he was practically bouncing on your fingers now.

“Ohhh, love,” You beamed against his bony hip. “You gonna cum like this, baby boy? With my fingers inside you?”

John half moaned, half laughed, almost in disbelief.

“God, I fucking am. Love, I’m-”

You leaned over him to brush his hair back from his damp forehead and kissed him softly, only slowing your thrusting fingers so that you could crook them inside him.

“C’mon, love. C’mon, Johnny, cum for me.”

Always so eager to please. Your only warning was one last sharp jerk of his hips before he suddenly came with another broken moan. It sent a jolt of white-hot desire curling in the pit of your stomach.

John’s grip on your hips was so tight, he was sure to have left bruises, and all the while he whimpered and called your name, his face flushed and pink.

Feeling just as breathless, you kissed and kissed him until John’s body slowly collapsed under you. You carefully drew back your fingers, just barely biting back a moan when John weakly protested.

He pulled you close, but it wasn’t enough, so - still gasping and buzzing with pleasure - John carefully guided your arms out from under you so that you had to lay on top of him, your bodies completely intertwined.

“You’re-” John kissed you lazily, his mind still somewhere out past Saturn. “That was amazing. You’re so beautiful. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He barely knew what he was saying, he just had to let you know that you’d made him feel more than he ever thought possible. He couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else other than right here, right now.

Content and warm, you buried your face in his neck, catching your breath as John dragged his hands up and down your back.

“You were so good, John. Thank you for letting me take care of you.”

He smiled. He couldn’t believe you were thanking him. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He couldn’t believe crossing the road to see about a job had led him to this. In bed with you, just before dawn, sweaty and sticky and exhausted and gasping for breath, John felt like he’d finally found the home he’d been looking for all his life.

“Yeah, well, it’s your turn next, sweetheart. Give me two minutes and I’ll do the same for you.”

“Just two? Look at you.”

“You’re very inspiring, what can I say.”

You smiled against his skin, pressing your thighs together at the thought.

You considered getting up to open the window and let in some fresh, cooling air. You wanted to help John get cleaned up before the next round. More than that, you wanted to lay back and let him kiss down your body, till he’d seen to the mess he’d made.

You kissed him again, slow and languid. There was no need to rush. You had all the time in the world.

The bakery was alive again.

Like a pot set to boil slowly, incrementally over time, you hadn’t realised how anaemic the place had become until it was too late. Almost too late. With Alastair gone and the summer at its peak, 64 Oslo Square was back to its former glory, a shining jewel at the far end of Kensington High Street.

You kneaded dough with motions you knew by heart. There was a rhyme and rhythm to it, a particular push of your hands, a drag of your fingers, a dig with the heels of your palms.

You rolled the dough between your hands, forming and shaping it like a potter at their wheel, until it was the perfect consistency to divide and drop into proofing baskets.

There was music in the air. Mickey’s old radio oozed out Diana Ross, Tony Orlando, Free and Bowie, and he sang along to every word. How he knew them all by heart, you’d never know, but he never skipped a beat.

Equally vocal was John. He was leaning against the kitchen island, where he was supposed to be making butter cream. Instead, he had his head in the book he’d just bought, a textbook he’d need for his second year. He’d been reading out passages he thought were particularly interesting, and you and Mickey had been trying your best to humour him.

John recited a particularly convoluted paragraph, and Mickey actually laughed at how ridiculously complex it sounded.

“Hang on, say that one more time?”

You brushed off the flour from your hands, watching it cascade through the air like gold dust in the morning sunlight.

“Yeah, no, sorry, sweetheart. You’ve lost us.”

John turned the book around and held it up so that you could see the page he was reading from.

“Here, have a look!”

“My love, that might as well be written in Greek for all the sense it makes to me.”

“Well, some of it is Greek. It’s Physics.”

Behind you, meticulously icing fruit tarts, Mickey snorted.

You shot John a wry look.

“Well, I walked into that one.”

John turned the book back to face him.

You watched him with a fond smile, then pushed the loaves you’d made into the oven.

He got this look on his face when he was talking about his studies. John was completely in his element. All the nervousness and shyness dissipated when there was simple, honest, unconditional science to talk about.

He shrugged, shutting the thick book with a heavy snap.

“I know it’s boring-”

“It’s not boring, John, I just think it’s wasted on us.”

“Don’t be daft, you’re the smartest person I know.”

“Ta!” Mickey chimed in.

You ignored him, though it was nice to see Mickey so cheery. The last few months had been hard for all of you, but he had a family to worry about, a newborn, a mortgage. Now Alastair’s heavy chains had dropped from your ankles, the bakery was making enough for you all to live a little more easily, and Mickey had started to whistle again, bright and cheery and carefree.

While the bread proved, you set about preparing tomorrow’s croissants.

“The smartest person you know besides you, you mean,” you said to John, picking up the conversation again while you went to grab the right ingredients.

“Well, what else am I here for? Aren’t I the brains?” John smiled. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

Grinning now, you tapped his thigh as you passed by.

“Don’t forget the legs.”

“I thought that was you?”

“Ohh, someone woke up in a good mood.”

“Wonder why.”

John reached out and tried to pinch your hip but you just slipped out of reach.

Plunking flour, eggs and sugar down on the metal counter, you took a deep breath before falling into the pattern of a lifetime. It was all second nature by now, like the steps of a dance or the words to a favourite song. You’d never forget the moves for as long as you lived, you could probably make them blindfolded, with one arm tied behind your back. It was good to be back.

“C’mon then,” You nodded to the textbook in John’s hands. “What else you got? Anything that’ll get you mixing faster?”

John huffed, lifting himself up to perch on the edge of the counter.

“It’s thanks to this book that you even have a mixer.”

“Oi, watch it, New Boy. I’m your boss, remember.”

John grinned at you across the island. It was an almost challenging look. Come shut me up. Come kiss me. I know you want to.

“Can bosses get the sack for fraternising with the staff?”

Startled, you looked over your shoulder at Mickey. You’d almost forgotten you weren’t alone in the kitchen with John.

Mickey tugged a cigarette down from where it had been tucked behind his ear and flicked it up, catching it in his mouth just to show off. He raised his eyebrows at you, then at John.

“I only ask cos I got an earful this morning I’m not gonna forget in an ‘urry. It’d do me a favour if you were legally obligated to never, ever do that again. At least while I’m in earshot.”

Cheeks burning, you refused to look at John.

Images of that morning flashed through your mind.

You had to be up early to get the bakery warmed up, and John needed to get on his stupid bike and make his rounds. You’d flung out a sleep-heavy arm to silence your alarm, and in the time it took you to draw it back under the warmth and safety of the covers, John had moved on top of you.

Between soft, slow, drowsy kisses, he lazily slipped inside you, dragging his hips back and forward against yours as you gasped into his mouth.

You came clinging to his back, your ankles hooked around his hips, his tongue in your mouth and your name in his throat.

When you came downstairs together. Mickey had already started warming up the ovens. You had paused, momentarily startled. Mickey was early for once. But you brushed your surprise away and slipped on an easy smile. There was no way he would've been able to hear you, and there were a hundred perfectly innocent reasons why John could’ve been upstairs with you.

Idiot.

“Oh,” You pulled a face, aiming for apologetic and ending up at awkward. “Sorry, Mickey.”

He just laughed and headed out into the alley for his smoke break.

Turning to John, you grimaced.

“Whoops.”

Looking about as embarrassed as you felt, he held out his hand to you. John guided you around the counter until you were standing between his knees, his hands immediately resting on your hips like it was second nature.

“Alright, so your walls are thinner than we thought. Lesson learnt.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so noisy.”

“Me!” John laughed. “Can I take you out tonight?”

“Depends. Where you taking me?”

“Thought we could go to the pictures? Get some dinner?”

“Sounds perfect.” You kissed the tip of his nose. “And your electric stuff is very cool, John. I was only teasing you.”

Smiling like a cat curled up in front of the fire, John squeezed your hips reassuringly.

“I know.”

“Not just a pretty face, eh?”

John looked sheepish.

“Well, you know, you’re always saying-”

You kissed him once, twice, then his nose again.

“You’re very pretty.”

“No…”

John barely put up a fight. It was hard enough arguing with you at the best of times, he could barely concentrate when you were so close, your floury hands cupping his face, your lips so close to his.

“Yes! Twice as pretty as Roger.”

John let his head grow heavy, relaxing completely until all that supported him were your hands under his jaw. While you giggled at his exhausted expression, John shook his head

“Now you’re just being silly.”

Your heart felt so full, it threatened to spill over.

There had been a small worry, so small it barely warranted entertaining, right in the back of your mind. It liked to remind you that the dynamics of your relationship with John had forever shifted.

What if things felt different now? Under these new parameters, there would be no more longing looks across the bakery, no dancing and stumbling around each other, no more tension and uncertainty. What if the sudden expectations and roles made things awkward?

A smaller, even stupider part of your brain had even been afraid that John would wake up and - in the cold, harsh light of the morning - decide he'd changed his mind.

That particular worry was extinguished almost as quickly as it sprang into life. When John hooked one long, slim leg through yours and moaned into your mouth that you were absolutely perfect, you could have laughed at yourself for ever worrying if your mouth hadn’t been full of his name, then his tongue.

But no, here, alone in the kitchen where you came to know each other, looking and smiling at each other like you were the only two people in the world, you knew nothing good had changed. It made you wonder just how long you’d belonged to each other without knowing it.

“I mean it!” You laughed softly when you brushed your hand over his cheek and John pretended to nip at your fingertips. “You’ve got pretty eyes…”

You kissed a spot under both of his eyes, right on the apple of John’s cheeks. His smile pressed into your palms

“And pretty hair…”

“You’re so odd, love.”

“And nice eyebrows…”

John laughed, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“My eyebrows are nice?”

“And you’ve got a great nose…” You kissed it to prove a point, then grazed your fingertip along the outline of his bottom lip. “I love your funny little mouth.”

John raised his eyebrows.

“What’s so funny about my mouth?”

“Nothing!”

“My mouth works just fine, thank you.”

You grinned.

“I’m well aware.”

Shaking his head slightly, his cheeks tinged pink, John asked,

“You really think I’m pretty?”

“I really do, John.”

“I think you’re pretty too. I think you’re beautiful.”

John smiled softly as you leaned in to kiss him, and you could still feel him smiling against your mouth as you tilted his head back with one finger under his jaw.

He pulled you closer, his hands on the backs of your thighs at first, before they slid up and bunched up your apron.

You had half a mind to pull away and check over your shoulder, just to make sure Mickey wasn’t about to walk in on you. You could hear Gladys a mile away, so you didn’t have to worry about her catching you, but you’d never live it down if Mickey had to bleach his eyes as well as his ears.

John brushed his nose against yours sweetly, his eyes half-lidded and heavy. He was so handsome when he was like this, all relaxed and confident and putty in your hands.

“That thing you did,” he said quietly. “Last night.”

You hummed, only half listening as you leaned down to kiss him again.

“Think you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I don’t think I do.”

John raised his eyebrows and you bit back a smile, feeling somehow simultaneously sheepish and proud of yourself.

You’d been waiting for him to bring it up, but when he didn’t say anything last night or this morning, you wondered if maybe he didn’t like it. His body certainly reacted positively, but sometimes there was a disconnect, a barrier, between what was felt physically and what was felt emotionally.

“Is that something you’ve done before?”

“Maybe.” Though your cheeks burned, you kept up your grin, never wanting to give away just how much John flustered you. “Or maybe I just saw you there, all wet and desperate, and couldn’t help myself.”

John’s eyes widened a fraction, like he couldn’t believe you would dare to say something so outrageous within a few feet of your colleagues and countless hungry customers.

Bending his head, he let his forehead rest against your chest, his hands tense on your hips.

“You’re terrible,” he grumbled, the sound muffled against your apron.

You couldn’t resist, you slipped your fingers into his thick hair, combing it through and playing with the odd curl.

He really was so wonderful, a ridiculous mix of pretty boy and handsome mechanic. There wasn’t anything John Deacon couldn’t do. He played every part so well without ever not being himself, and he was all yours.

“Did you like it?” you asked, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

John quietly huffed.

“I think that was fairly obvious.”

“Because we could do it again. And more, if you like.”

John raised his head.

“More?”

You kept your hand in his hair, grazing and tugging his curls around your fingers. It kept you grounded, kept you from pulling back and changing the subject and apologising for even asking. It wasn’t exactly embarrassing, just a lot to say out loud, especially with John looking at you like that.

“Yeah, you know…” You shrugged, fighting back a smile and losing. “I could use more than just my fingers.”

“Oh.” John’s eyes widened a fraction but that was all he gave away. “Would you… Want to?”

“Yes. Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

The tension between you was building again, a push me, pull you of daring looks and lingering touches, toeing the line a little more with every word passed between you.

“I…” John opened his mouth, closed it again, then said, “I trust you with me.”

There was a flicker of nervousness in his grey eyes but no hesitancy, no uncertainty.

Even just thinking about it left your mouth feeling dry, and from the way John’s fingers tightened on the backs of your thighs, threatening to slip up under your dress and beyond, he was thinking about it too.

“Still can’t really believe it,” he said softly.

“Well, you know, it’s not that uncommon. You’d be surpri-”

“No, I mean,” John laughed softly and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Can’t believe I’m here. With you.”

“Oh!” With a grin you brushed back his hair and tucked it behind his ear for him. “Well, I’m very glad you decided to stick around, New Boy. Well, not so new anymore.”

John hummed and leant his head in your hands again, nuzzling his cheek against your palms.

He’d gone all soft on you. You tried to pinpoint exactly when that could have happened, but came up empty. He’d always been sweet but recently, perhaps over the last few weeks, John had shown a vulnerability that he’d hidden behind clever words and smiles.

When did give himself over to you? Welcoming him into your little family had done wonders for John’s confidence, giving him somewhere that he felt safe and secure, where he had a set role and no doubt that he belonged.

But when had he become yours? When you were one of six people in the crowd to see his band play? When you took him into your home and patched him up, offering him love and comfort and a warm place to sleep? Or maybe it had been immediate, when you sent a stranger home with food just because he looked cold and hungry? Or maybe it was only recently. Maybe seeing how his friends welcomed you into his own odd little family had been the final nail.

Running your fingers through his soft hair, you knew you wouldn’t ever know when this started, when John had solidified himself in your life, but you were oh so very glad that he did.

The bakery door opened. You barely registered it, just a faint chime in the back of your head. You almost, almost ignored it. But something about the sound sent goosebumps shivering up your arms and down your back. Something told you to look up and pay attention.

Through the kitchen doorway, you could hear familiar voices. The same customers came by every day, or weekly, you knew them all by heart. They knew you as you knew them. There was a warmth there, a rare connection for this part of the city.

One voice, cold and discordant, cut through the rest like a bow pulled too sharply across violin strings.

Without taking your eyes off the kitchen doorway, you squeezed John’s hands, then gently let them go.

“Hang on, love.”

Heart thudding, you made it to the doorway just in time to catch Alastair moving round the counter towards Gladys.

Immediately, a coppery taste rose under your tongue, like blood, adrenaline. Your hands balled into fists and you didn’t know if you were afraid or furious or just shocked, but you froze in the doorway, unable to move any part of you apart from your wide eyes.

“Gladys, love,” Alastair smiled like an anglerfish as he drew closer. “You have to give me another chance. I was just trying to do what’s best for you.”

The bakery door closed behind the last customer, you caught the movement out of the corner of your eye. The shop was empty, apart from one woman, seated at a table in the corner, busy fussing over her baby.

“You’re being ridiculous, love. You know I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you. I just want to help-”

“Alastair.”

You stopped him with his hand raised in the air, reaching out to Gladys, fingers curled inwards like claws. The big bad wolf.

“What the hell are you doing here.”

Alastair slowly dragged his gaze away from his target. His lip curled in irritation, almost like you bored him. You were just something to scrape off the bottom of his custom-made Italian leather shoes.

The sound of his name caught John’s attention. You felt his chest against your back but he didn’t touch you, just kept close, keeping watch but never interfering. Still, it meant there was now another man in the room, and Alastair’s attitude shifted accordingly.

He straightened his long back, pulled back his hand and tucked it behind him. His mouth shifted into something more friendly but his eyes he had less control over. They stayed cold and steady and fixed on you.

“There you are.” He tried to smile but didn’t understand the mechanics. “Look, we got off on the wrong foot, darling. But now everything’s out in the open, I really think we can come to some kind of agreement. I mean, you’re sitting on a goldmine here, sweetheart.”

Behind you, John scowled.

“Don’t call her that.”

Alastair pretended not to hear him.

“You don’t even know what you have here.”

You caught Gladys’ eye. This place was just as much her home as it was yours, if not more so. She bought a tiny corner of a bomb-stricken street, fixed it up, loved it into living, and filled it with good things to feed her community.

Until recently, until Alastair, she’d never had a day off, she’d never called in sick, she never complained or argued or admitted defeat. The fire that burned in her had been dampened but never snuffed out, and now it was back, roaring and clawing past the bars of its cage. And she’d passed it on to you.

“I do, actually,” you said, and Gladys smiled.

Alastair laughed drily, humourlessly, and there was no doubt that he thought you were beyond stupid, that you were all beneath him, that he understood the world better than any of you ever could.

“Honey, in ten years, this city is going to look completely different.”

He took a step towards you and you felt John tense.

“Twenty, thirty years down the line, this space will be worth triple what she bought it for. More than that. If you give it to me, I can talk to the right people, I can get you a good deal. Sweetheart, I can make you rich.”

“Alastair, I’ve been waitin’ a long time to say this: get the fuck ou’ of my bakery.”

Frantic now, he turned his gaze to John.

“You, you’re the boyfriend, right? Can you talk some sense into your girl? She’ll listen to you. You’re a smart bloke, I can tell. You can see what they can’t, right? C’mon, you and me, we know we can’t leave decisions like this up to- Well, a couple of girls playing business. We both know it’s too much for them.”

“Skip asked you to leave,” John said, terse and stern. ”Much more politely than you deserve.”

When Mickey came to see what was going on, Alastair took a step backwards. A smart move but not nearly quick enough.

Without a word from any of you, Mickey immediately understood what was happening and knew what the situation demanded.

Alastair raised his hands, his warped smile trembling at the corners. He shrank back as Mickey made his way towards him.

“Michael,” He shook his head, his cold eyes darting everywhere. “Michael, you-”

“Oh, mate.” Mickey grabbed Alastair by the scruff of his spotless jacket. “You’ve just made my day.”

Struggling against Mickey’s grip, Alastair cried out to Gladys, his hands wrapped uselessly around the much larger one dragging him out the front door.

Together, you watched Mickey throw Alastair onto the pavement, ruining his nice suit and removing him from your lives forever.

You looked up when you felt John slip his fingers through yours. Drawing in a soothing breath, you squeezed his hand back.

“Well,” Gladys turned to you with a smile. “I think I’ll stick the kettle on. Anyone want a brew?”

Master List

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 4 months ago

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- Ao3 masterlist -

ao3

In progress:

Completed:

Microfics:

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 5 months ago

Text

~Masterlist

Well, now that I’ve actually started making a number of things, I figured I’d have a master list to organize the fics.

*~* Breakfast Club *~*

The numbers denote the “Chapter”/the order they go in. The .5′s are like companion pieces to the previous one.

Brian x Fem!Reader Series:

Canon Prologue (1)

Midnight Sun’d Prologue (Brian’s POV 1.5)

New Week, New Friendships (2)

Head Over Heels (2.5)

Don’t Need You to Rescue Me (Platonic!Bender-Aside 3)

As You Walk On By (4)

Hell Week (5)

Man, You are SO Screwed (5.5)

Show Night (6)

Pain in the Ass (Platonic! Bender-Aside 7)

We Are Not Alone (8)

It’s Not a Reflection on You (9)

Knowledge Bowl (10)

Electric Blue (11)

Good Boy (12 -mild Smut-)

Crazy (13)

Set Me Free (Unrequited AU Benderxreader)-Idk its weird but it’s this particular series’ reader SO it goes here.

Think Twice (Follow-Up to Set Me Free–WIP)

Let’s Go Back to Bed (Aged-Up/Fast-Forwarded Smut)

Brian x Fem!Reader One Shots

Head Over Feet

Brian x Gender-Neutral!Reader

Incidental Sleepover (Request One-Shot)

Bender x Fem!Reader

Two Worlds Collided

Misery Business

Stacked (*Smut*)

Broken

Set Me Free (Unrequited AU Benderxreader)- same as the one linked above in Brian’s list, but also belongs in this set.

*~*STRANGER THINGS*~*

requests open for Fred, Steve, Eddie

Fred Benson x Fem!Reader

Worth a Shot

Hellfire (Requested)

Fluff Piece Part One

Fluff Piece Part Two

Strange Love Part One (Requested)

Fred Benson x Gen Neutral!Reader

Conversation Starter

Impressions Part One (Requested)

Happy to Help (Artist!Reader x Fred–Requested)

I Burn, I Pine, I Perish (Requested)

Meeting/Dating Would Include (Blurb/Imagine)

Blinded Me With Science (Fred Benson x Reader Series)–FKA “Crazy For You”

Blinded Me With Science (Chapter One)

Blinded Me With Science (Chapter Two)

Blinded Me With Science (Chapter Three)

Blinded Me With Science (Chapter Four)

Blinded Me With Science (Chapter Five)

Blinded Me With Science (Chapter Six)

Fred Benson x Male!Reader

Basketball Interview (Requested)

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader

Teenage Dirtbag

*~* Stephen King’s IT *~*

Hold My Cold and Tired Heart (Richie Tozier x Neutral!Reader)

If You Leave: Part One (Chapter 1 Richie Tozier x Neutral!Reader)

If You Leave: Part Two (Chapter 2 Richie Tozier x Neutral!Reader)

“Untitled Poly Reddie Smutfic ™”: Intro (RichiexEddiexFem!Reader)

“Untitled Poly Reddie Smutfic ™”: Part One (RichiexEddiexFem!Reader)

“Untitled Poly Reddie Smutfic ™”: Part Two (RichiexEddiexFem!Reader)

“Untitled Poly Reddie Smutfic ™”: Part Three (RichiexEddiexFem!Reader)

“Untitled Poly Reddie Smutfic ™”: Part Four (RichiexEddiexFem!Reader)

“Untitled Poly Reddie Smutfic ™”: Part Five (RichiexEddiexFem!Reader)

“Untitled Poly Reddie Smutfic ™:” Part Six (RichiexEddiexFem!Reader)

“Untitled Poly Reddie Smutfic ™:” Part Seven (RichiexEddiexFem!Reader)

“Untitled Poly Reddie Smutfic ™:” Part Eight (RichiexEddiexFem!Reader)

I Think We’re Alone Now (Reddie)

*~* Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark *~*

Room For One More (Chuck x Reader)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven (A/N: Honestly, you could START here. It’s the movie’s opening Halloween; reader becomes more gender neutral in reference from here on out).

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten (*mild/implied smut*)

Chapter Eleven (*mild/implied smut*)

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

~Spooksville~

Electric Love (Watch xFem!OC)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 5 months ago

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I cannot believe there's absolutely no way to watch free shows and movies anymore, there are too many paid streaming platforms and pirating websites have viruses and ads preventing you from watching it uninterrupted((.)) id rather follow the rules and purchase media moving forward because it is too inconvenient. Seriously, free and no ads or viruses with 1080p streaming is DEAD.

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 5 months ago

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A Slip of the Tongue

Prof Remus x Male Prof Reader

Warning: Fluff, minor flirting

Summary: You agreed to help your crush/college with his class demonstration when something unexpected is said

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As the new herbology professor Y/N had never anticipated to become a helping hand in a DATDA class, it certainly wasn't part of the job description when he applied. However over the last three months he had become increasingly close to another new teacher, Professor Remus Lupin, and it was in fact this specific teacher who had roped him into the lesson.

If Remus's kind eyes and crooked yet warm smile weren't enough to persuade Y/N, the simple fact of how helpful Remus had been in aiding him in his own classes had certainly put him in a position of owning Remus a favour. Y/N had been very grateful each time Remus had helped him carry bags of soil into the green house or stay up late to repot his plants while listening to Bowie on his old gramophone. Y/N particular enjoyed those evenings. Remus always seemed happy and keen to help despite seeming to be rather tired and fragile for at least half of every month. Y/N felt like there was something Remus wasn't telling him but didn't want to push Remus just yet, currently settling to giving Remus a flask of herbal tea made with his own mint leaves whenever he noticed Remus looking extremely deflated.

All these previous encounters had made it impossible to say no when Remus had strolled into the green house yesterday evening, resting his tall body on the door frame and asked if Y/N would assist with his next practical lesson. Y/N now found himself in the DATDAs class room leaning against a wall, arms folded over his sweater vest and tie, nodding and smiling at the few students who said hello to him.

"Morning all, yes Good Morning. Everyone come to the center of the room now" called out Remus. It took Y/N by surprise seeing the rather quiet man he knew command a room to such an effect. All his students stood eagerly in a group waiting for what Proffesor Lupin would say next.

"You have all made excellent progress in your studies, I am really impressed! Now, in today's lesson you are going to test your skills against an opponent" on this last word Professor Lupins eyes glided towards Y/N still leaning against the wall. As all the students turned to stare at Y/N, his own eyes widened, this caused Remus to let out a soft chuckle. Taking a few steps back Professor Lupin lifted a white cloth up to reveal a medium sized pot with an overgrown vine like shrub. "Professor Y/L/N, if you would please" Lupin outstretched a hand in Y/N's direction inviting him to come forth.

Y/N briskly approached where Remus was standing, his work boots scuffing across the wooden floor boards slightly. Once standing next to the older Professor Y/N become highly aware of their height difference. Remus looked down at Y/N from the corner of his eye and gave him a comforting smile.

"The elemental world can be an essential asset when coming to poisons and remedies" Remus said addressing the class, "however when battling agaisnt another these elements can be used to casue great harm, whether that is fire, earth, water, even plants". Catching on to what Remus was getting at Y/N took out his wand and focused on the vined plant. With a deep breath through his exhale Y/N began to wave his wand up and with wordless magic and vines began to grow thick and long. With each flick of his wand the plant grow bigger in the direction Y/N waves his wand, as if he was a puppeteer and the vines were being controlled by strings. Turning his head Y/N caught Lupin watching him intently with an impressed smile across his face. This makes Y/N blush and frown as his focuses on his casting.

Proffesor Y/N had come to terms which the fact he had a small (major) crush on the other Proffesor. But chose to keep this to himself for now, it simply didn't feel appropriate in their professional context and anyway he was certain the handsome older Proffesor only saw him as a platonic college.

Proffesor Lupin instructed the class to take turns attempting to defeat the living viens Y/N controlled with the spells they had been learning. Y/N did his best to both allow the students to get a few good shots in but keep them on their toes as well, swishing the veins through the air as if they were cloth. "A confident stances is key" Lupins voices made its way to Y/N, realising that the taller man had walked behind him. He could almost feel Lupins breath on the back of his neck which made the hairs on his neck stand up.

"Take note of Proffesor Y/L/N's posture, shoulder pulled back and arm stretched out" while Lupin talked aloud he raised his arm up to match Y/N's, swaying it as the same time as Y/N did, their hands nearly touching. "Effortless flicks of the wrist and yet a strong grasp at the base of the wand... a rock hard grip", despite saying those last words aloud Lupin had leaned down enough that his lips were agaisnt Y/Ns ear as he said so. Y/N's eyes widened but he kept his gaze straight ahead, pretending he hadnt just heard these sinfully sweet words. Why had Remus said that? Had he meant to, was it a mistake? Slip of the Tongue? Surely that dosent imply which I think it dose"

The rest of the class goes by, each student getting a turn to challenge Y/N's casting, as the students leaves they all thanks Y/N for such a fun lesson, and he takes each compliment with a joyful smile. In a matter of minutes the classroom is empty just leaving the two Proffesors alone. "Was truly exquisite to watch you" Remus said, leaning against his desk with his hands in his cardigan pockets. Y/N's nervous nature instinctively brushes his hair back out of his face while letting out a weak laugh, his mind still racing over the words Remus has uttered behind him. "well I'm just happy to have been able to help, if you need assistance in your next class please feel free to come find me" and with a brief smile Y/N chose to turn on his heel and start to walk out of the room, before he says or dose something he'll regret.

"Of course, yes ... well actually" Remus trailed off and then spoke up against just before Y/N exited through the door way, causing him to turn around. Lupin suddenly looked incredibly bashful and looked down at the floor with every other word, " we'll see Y/N I was actually hoping the next time I could see you would be tonight.. after dinner". "Oh I see, do you need some extra help grading papers or something" Y/N asked innocently. "No ... I, I just wanted to spend some time alone with you" at the end of the sentence Remus' eyes stared deep into Y/N's from across the room. A sense of longing and desire swirling in them, Y/N was completely taken aback for a moment. Could this really be happening.

He took a deep breath which transformed into a light chuckle, "Yes Remus, I would like that very much". Remus' thin lips press tightly together and a smile stretches across his face. Y/N mirrors the smile before he walked out of the room "I will be sure to give you a more in depth demonstration of my rock hard grip then" called out Y/N as he walked down the corridor, as he does he could hear Remus let out a soft chuckle.

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 6 months ago

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Crowley x Reader Masterlist

Link to my Master Masterlist

Keep reading

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 6 months ago

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don't stop trying to find me here amidst the chaos

❀ Premise: You get injured on the job and Kaz loses his mind about it. When you are on the mend, both of you learn what it means to start on a journey towards healing ❀ Word Count: 2,338 ❀ Content Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Gore, Blood, & Violence, Kaz beats someone to death with his gloved hands, Infection of A Wound, Hurt/Comfort

It was supposed to be an easy job. Break in, forge some documents, destroy some others, and you're done. It was a trap, but everyone knew that going into it.

Still, you weren’t expecting this much effort to go into killing the crows. You’ve been trying to stay out of the line of fire, aiding the various crows when they call out for help. You’re on your way to helping Inej heal a minor wound when it happens.

You feel the knife before you see it. Of course, target the healer you think to yourself, trying to wrestle your attacker off you before they're able to rip the knife back out of your body. You fail, like you thought you would. A bullet whizzes past your head, hitting your attacker in the head, and killing them instantly.

"You're bleeding?" Jesper yells, as if he's never seen you injured before.

"That tends to happen when you get stabbed!" You yell back.

Another bullet flies past you.

You place your hand over your wound, trying to heal yourself enough to remain useful. Instead, your hand pulls away from your hip covered in blood.

"I need to leave." You say, flashing your bloody hand.

"Y/N! This way, quickly!" Nina yells from behind Jesper.

You stumble forward, trying to keep yourself from falling over. The pain isn't too much, but the blood loss… somebody has to stop the blood loss.

"I've got you," Kaz says, appearing on the side opposite the wound, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Thanks, Kaz" You state.

"There's a safe house nearby," He reassures.

"I know. I've healed you there many times before." You reply.

You make it out of the building, but not before losing at least three pints of blood. You’ve got a headache, and your dizzy, and you’ll probably pass out in a very short amount of time.

“Where did Nina go?” You ask, starting to slow down a little.

“Making sure the safehouse is still safe.” He says.

“Oh. How’d she get that far ahead of us?” You question.

“She’s not bleeding out,” Kaz states.

“Sorry for bleeding out on you,” You say, words starting to slur. You aren’t sure how you’re still walking. “I’ll keep my blood in my body next time.”

“We’re almost there,” Kaz replies, barely managing to stay upright himself, as most of your weight leans against him.

“Quickly!” Nina shouts, urging the both of you into the safe house.

“I think I need to lie down.” You say, slowly collapsing to the floor. Blissful unconsciousness greets you shortly after.

“Brekker, help me get her to the table,” Nina commands.

Kaz is no longer consciously aware of what’s happening around him. He’s able to follow most of Nina’s directions, but he’s not physically there. He’s retreated into his mind, where the emotions begin to fester.

The inside of Kaz’s mind is a series of mazes, locked doors, dead ends, and brick walls. They are defenses he built for himself, to protect him whenever something terrible happened. The more trauma he endured, the more complicated it became for him to express his emotions. And then, one day, the only emotions that he would allow to emerge from his skull were anger and rage.

He looms over your unconscious body, eyes sharp as knives, covered in your blood. If he ever finds the man who did this…

“BREKKER!” Nina shouts, snapping him out of his disassociation. She’s kneeling by your unconscious body, trying her best to seal your wound while being flooded with Kaz’s emotions. “You aren’t helping.” She runs her hand through her hair, frantic. “If you don’t calm down I’m going to have to kick you out of this room. Do you understand?” Your wound is beginning to unseal itself as she loses concentration.

Kaz swallows his emotions, pushing them back into the pit they had suddenly erupted from. “Yes,”

“Good. Now let me focus,” Returning to your wound, she’s able more or less seal it- at least enough that the bleeding stops completely.

Were he a different man, he may have kept vigil over you for the days that followed. Watched over your unconscious body, thinking of all the things he wanted to say to you when you woke up. To apologize for having fell for an obvious trap. Were he another man, he may have dabbed at your head with a cool towel, trying to quell the fever that arose. Held your hand. Prayed for your return. But Kaz was not another man.

He was the Bastard of the Barrel. Dirty Hands. And he was going to kill every single person who had anything to do with that cursed job. At least, he would have, had the other Crows not been there to ground him in reality.

Kaz leaves the safe house, heading straight back into the fight. To be honest, he’s not in much better shape than you, but the adrenaline keeps him upright and the rage keeps him deadly. A bullet lands in a pillar beside him, but he ignores it.

Inej approaches him while he is still beating up the man’s corpse. Everyone who tried to kill them is dead.

He feels a fist land on his back and turns around to meet its owner. And then the rage takes over. Have you ever wondered how many times you have to hit someone before they're dead?

Kaz knows the answer, but he passed that number a very long time ago.

“Kaz,” She says, quietly. She places a hand on his shoulder, but he continues.

“I think he’s dead,” Jesper deadpans.

Slowly, the punches start to slow down, until he finally stops. He stands up, shakily, absolutely covered in blood from head to toe. He is still too angry to notice that he’d been crying. Jesper and Inej notice, but say nothing.

“Let’s go,” Inej says, handing Kaz his cane.

Nina is sitting with a cup of tea when they arrive back at the safe house, staring deeply into the cup.

“How is she?” Jesper asks.

“She’ll live, most likely,” Nina replies, glancing towards the group. Her eyes narrow as she sees Kaz covered in more blood than he left with. “It’ll be a while before she recovers.”

“We should plan our next move,” Kaz states, though he really means he should plan their next move. Which is revenge, of course.

“It should start with changing your clothes.” Nina retorts.

Kaz gives Nina a look.

“Don’t you look at me like that when I just saved the person you love,” Nina hisses, letting go of her cup of tea and slapping her hands against the table. It rattles, splashing some of the tea. “You know she wouldn’t want to see you like this,” She mutters, returning to her tea.

“I think washing up’s a good idea. Anybody disagree?” Jesper asks the room of severally traumatized people trying desperately to not let their emotions take over.

He does not get a response. Instead, the crows each find themselves going separate ways within the house, giving each other time to process what has just occurred.

XXXXX

“Kaz?” You ask, barely making out his figure in the dark room.

“I’ll go get Nina-” He says, standing up.

“No- stay. Please.” You plead.

He sits back down in the chair at the far end of the room.

“Come closer,” You beckon.

He moves to the chair beside your bed- the one the others had been taking turns using. The one Jesper sat in, recounting his day, pretending like you were awake. The one Nina sat in while she re-examined her work, taking the bandages on and off a wound that shouldn’t still be leaking. The one Inej sat in, drip-feeding you water so you didn’t dehydrate while you slept. Each of them had their own little task, their thing they did to make them feel like they were helping you heal.

Kaz just stared at you from afar, terrified. He knows what dead people look like- what they feel like- and for a while, you didn’t look much better than them. Tonight is the first time he’s ever sat in this chair. The first time he’s felt safe enough to do so since you got stabbed.

“Can you check the wound?” You ask. “I’m not strong enough to take off the bandages…”

“Are you sure you don’t want Nina?” He replies, already slowly peeling the covers off your body.

“So she can make it worse? No. I don’t need Nina for this.” You respond.

Hearing you quip again makes him feel better. The fact he has to touch your skin to take the bandages off, however, is a different kind of battle. The gloves are there as protection, as they always are, but he worries they aren’t enough.

“Kaz” You breathe.

“Y/N?”

“Deep breaths. In for five, hold for three, out for five.” You coach.

He nods. In for five, hold for three, out for five.

The first layer of bandage is off, still a pristine white.

In for five, hold for three, out for five.

A light pink and yellow mixture lightly coats this layer.

In for five, hold for three, out-

“Kaz? What is it?” You ask.

He could vomit- he might, even. This last layer of bandages is almost soaked, with a yellowish outline surrounding a red center.

“I knew I had an infection,” You say with a weak sigh.

He looks away as he peels this last layer off, trying to pretend he didn’t see it at all. Your skin is raw, irritated, and angry. It hasn’t gotten enough air.

“Is there puss?” You ask.

“Yes,” Kaz replies, trying to look anywhere but at the wound.

“Of course. Go get Inej. We’re going to need someone with a strong stomach.”

He nods and gets up to leave.

“And do me a favor- wash your gloves. There should be another pair in the cupboard.” You call after him.

As he comes out of the room, the rest of the crows are waiting.

“She’s awake,” Kaz states, holding the bandages in his hands.

“What did she say?” Jesper asks.

“She needs someone with a strong stomach.” He looks at Inej and cocks his head back toward the door.

“Infection,” Nina states, her lips quirking upward in disappointment.

“You did the best you could,” Jesper tries to reassure. “It was enough to keep her alive.”

“That remains to be seen,” Nina says.

Inej spends the next few minutes making trips in and out of your bedroom, carrying in clean bandages, carrying out bloody clothing, carrying in clean water, carrying out a bucket of- well. Finally, she exits the room for the final time, carrying more used bandages.

“How is she?” Kaz asks.

“Better. She was able to clean up the infection, but it will take her a few days before she gains enough strength to heal her wound completely.” Inej states.

“Did she say anything else?” Nina questions.

“I’m sure you’ll get an earful later, Zenik.” Jesper teases.

“She wanted to see Kaz,” Inej responds. “If you’ve changed your gloves.” She adds.

Kaz nods and enters the room after Inej leaves.

“Hi,” You say, sleepily. Cleaning up the infection took a lot out of you.

“Hi,” He mirrors, sitting in the chair next to your bed.

“Can you give me some water?” You ask.

He nods, bringing the glass up to your lips. You take slow, long sips, trying not to upset your stomach. When you stop taking sips, he pulls the glass away from your mouth.

“How long do you think you’ll need to recover?” He questions.

You laugh, and then you wince, because you really shouldn’t be laughing right now. “About a week. They missed my vital organs. Why do you ask?”

“I need to know how long my healer will be out of commission,” He responds like all you are to him is a means to an end. You would have believed that, once.

“You’ve been crying,” You point out. You don’t point out the new dark circles under his eyes, or how he looks paler than you’ve ever seen him.

“I’ve been sick,” He says, deflecting.

“I will be okay, Kaz. I promise,” You say, wanting to caress his hand. You aren’t strong enough to do it, and the gloves would prevent him from feeling your touch anyway. If he would even allow you to touch his gloved hand.

“Nothing like that will ever happen again,” He says, through gritted teeth.

“You can’t promise that. Not in this line of work.” You reply, searching for answers in his eyes.

“It won’t happen again.” He repeats, and you see the cracks starting to form. “I- I can’t let… I need.. I…you,” He stammers, trying not to cry.

“I’m alive. I’m here.” You say, “Touch me. I’m here,”

Kaz’s breath is shaky as he reaches for your exposed arm. He traces up and down your arm with a gloved finger in slow, repetitive motions.

“That’s it. Now breathe,” You instruct.

His breath slowly begins to stabilize as he breathes in while his finger moves down your arm and out while it moves up. Eventually, he’s calm again, and he works up the courage to lay his hand on top of yours.

“I will heal,” You state. “So- so will you. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s going to take a long time, but… we’ll heal.”

You don’t expect he’ll ever be able to touch someone without that protective barrier- that’s more a part of him now than it is something that needs to be fixed.

“You should rest,” You tell him.

“So should you,” He retorts.

“If you aren’t going to leave, at least take a blanket,” You state, wanting to hit him with a pillow.

It doesn’t take long for both of you to fall asleep. You, safe in your warm bed, healing from a wound that you just received. Him, asleep in a chair, just starting to heal from a childhood full of trauma.

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 6 months ago

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mission successful // set it up part two

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Requests

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x gn!Reader

A/N: Part two!!! This feels a bit more rushed than the first part but I hope it still lives up to your expectations <3

You can find part one here!

Summary: While attempting to set their best friends up with each other, the reader and Kaz notice that another issue appeared at the horizon. But nothing an undercover job won't fix, right?

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: Cursing, feelings, Kaz being a little bitch, pining, mention of his touch aversion

“Toss the hat. It makes you look like a criminal,” you joked, soundlessly slipping into Kaz’s office with the intention of asking him if the outfit you had chosen was good enough for the annual University Sponsor’s Ball. Instead of finding him sitting in his chair, doing some last-minute preparations, he was already busying himself with adjusting his unusually vibrant getup. Well, if one could call him trading his black vest for an emerald green one unusually vibrant. You had to admit, he was very nice to look at.

“I don’t remember asking for your input.” His eyes remained fixed on his own reflection in the dirty dressing mirror as he buttoned up the rest of his suit.

“What? No scolding for entering your office unannounced today?” you asked, almost sounding disappointed because he broke the habit.

“I figured you wouldn’t listen anyway, so what’s the point in wasting more time on reprimanding you?” He was acting hypocritically and he knew it. One moment he talked to you as if your company was a burden to him, and the next, he considered begging you to stay just a bit longer because he couldn't handle the empty feeling your absence gave him. It was something he couldn’t quite make sense of. And maybe he didn’t want to. Perhaps some things were better left unopened.

“It’s always so lovely talking to you, Kaz. Really the highlight of my day.”

“Many people tell me that,” he answered sarcastically, hoping he wasn’t currently working on never making you want to speak to him again after all of this was over. “Shouldn’t you be…” The words died in his throat when he eventually turned to look at you.

Even though you had been part of the Crows for years now, he had never seen you look this elegant. Nina had been tasked with making sure that you looked your absolute best, and now he wasn’t sure whether he should thank her, or curse her for succeeding. The job only seemed to get more difficult by the day.

“Shouldn’t I be where?” you asked sceptically, getting slightly worried about how he was acting today.

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs with the others?” He corrected, walking over to his desk and hoping that you wouldn’t ask any further.

“Oh, yeah. But Nina and Matthias are Saints-know-where, Inej is in her room doing her prayers and Jesper is helping Wylan get ready, so I figured my presence is not really needed. And I wanted to ask you if this outfit is appropriate or not. It’s a bit… much, in my opinion, but Nina was very insistent on having me wear this.” You let your back lean against the cold wall behind you, waiting for some sort of positive response from him that would help you feel like less of an idiot.

“You came to disturb me because you wanted to know whether I like your outfit? Don’t you have literally anything else to do?” he said, possibly a bit too harshly. He wanted to take the words back as soon as he saw the hurt expression that washed over your features for just a split second.

“Saints, you really can’t wait for all of this to be over, can you?” This was not how he wanted to make you feel. “I was aware that you didn’t think of me as a friend, but I didn’t think that you disliked me this much. I’m going back to the others, we’ll see each other later.” With that, you disappeared into the hallway, your footsteps echoing in his office until you went down the first flight of stairs.

Why did he have to react this way? He wanted to believe that it was the stress that made him act like this, but deep down he knew better. Since he had agreed to helping you with your weird little matchmaking ploy, he couldn’t logically deny the feelings he had for you any longer. The more time you spent with him, the more you occupied his mind. He should have been glad that all of this would hopefully be over after today’s mission, but he really wasn’t.

Having to spend the whole evening essentially glued to your side seemed to make matters only worse. Especially after the way you looked at him before leaving. This would surely be the death of him.

“Someone looks happy,” Jesper remarked cynically as he saw his friend’s brooding expression. Kaz had stayed behind the others, his pace way slower than usual - presumably because the cane he had to rely on was a hundred times flimsier than his usual one. “Did you and Y/N have a fight? I would have thought that you and them would be inseparable right now.”

“Not every feeling I have is connected to Y/N.”

“But on the rare occasion that you have feelings, it’s very closely related to them,” the sharpshooter pried, really trying to wring the last piece of patience from his boss.

“Don’t you have your own entanglement to take care of?” Kaz noted slyly, fully aware that his friend knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Yes, but I am very skilled at multitasking. And you look like you’re in desperate need of some divine intervention. Said divine intervention being me,” Jesper rambled on, not granting Kaz any chance at enjoying a calm walk towards their destination. “So, what’s going on?”

“I don’t see how this should concern you.”

“I don’t see how me telling you about my crush on Wylan concerned you, yet you still listened.”

“Involuntarily. You just came flying into my office and started telling me about it. I didn’t ask,” Kaz corrected, the impulse to drown himself in the canal next to them getting stronger the longer he spoke.

“That’s past the point. Something happened between you and you’re clearly not taking it well, which is pretty shitty considering that you have to pretend that you’re happily married for the next few hours.”

“I said something I shouldn’t have and I doubt that they have taken it well,” he admitted, surprising not only Jesper but himself for being honest for once.

“And why is that affecting you so much?” Kaz knew exactly what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear him say what he had been dreading to verbalise for so long.

“Because they mean something to me.” He let out a vocal sigh that buzzed in his ears for quite a while after. He didn’t pay any mind to the way his friend’s eyes almost doubled in size as the significance of his words settled in.

“Tell them that then,” he almost squealed, having to adjust his volume in order to not attract your attention. “Tell them that they mean something to you and that you’re shit at expressing emotions and stuff. They know that you’re a bit emotionally stunted, so I doubt that they’d hold a grudge against you for too long. But you need to be honest with them for this to work.”

“You first,” he rebutted - a bit childishly, but that didn’t disconcert him.

“Oh trust me, I will,” Jesper assured smugly, his eyes fixed on the redhead. “This doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t. Give them a chance. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“Focus on the task at hand, Jesper.” Kaz deflected, just wanting to get through the evening without adding you to his long list of problems.

Even though he had expected you to give him the cold shoulder after the way he spoke to you earlier, you acted as if you genuinely were utterly besotted with him. You laughed at his jokes, called him pet names and all in all behaved like a doting spouse would. However, every little interaction between you left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Underneath all of your feigned sweetness, you still emitted a strong sense of hurt.

As much as he wanted to dwell on these thoughts for just a bit longer, he had a job to do. You had already chatted up quite a few wealthy merchant couples and dreadfully monotonous university officials, but speaking to the rector of the university was something both of you needed to be very careful with. He and his wife were sitting across from you at one of the dinner tables alongside the edges of the grand auditorium after Kaz had sweet-talked them into joining him in a conversation on the international relations of Ketterdam University.

Everything went perfectly. Well, almost everything.

Barely anyone would assume that the two of you were a couple if they would simply look at you without hearing you speak. Neither of you had touched the other for the entire evening, and it began to create suspicion between the chattering hens that were the merchants’ wives. He was glad you hadn’t initiated any sort of physical contact, knowing that his touch aversion would have given him absolute hell if you had, but you needed to do something if you wanted to stay out of the brutal gossip that was already roaming around the room. Putting all the unwanted attention on you now wasn’t favourable at all.

And he couldn’t even blame them. You were sitting on the same divan, and yet it felt like you were miles apart.

“Lean against me,” he whispered once the headmaster and his wife were busy chatting with another pretentious couple. You stared back at him guardedly, your eyes drifting from his face to his ungloved hand.

“Kaz, I won’t. You-” you tried to interject but he dismissed you quickly.

“We look like we’ve just been introduced to each other. At least pretend like you’re enjoying this. Don’t think about me. I know what I can take.”

Without saying anything in response, you scooted a bit closer to him, slowly letting yourself lean against him. His breath hitched once your body met his, the closeness giving him goosebumps. It wasn’t as bad as he had anticipated it to be. The waves stayed at bay and didn’t reach further than his ankles.

In a sudden rush of bravery, his hand snaked around your waist, gently resting over your hip bone. You wanted to block him - to tell him to stop torturing himself. But the couple turned their attention back to you before you could open your mouth, so you were forced to slip back into the role of the loving partner that you were not at all uncomfortable with.

“Aren’t you two such a lovely couple? It’s very rare to see people this young who already found someone they seem so enamoured with,” his wife cooed, her brass bell-coloured hair fell into her face as she cocked her head to look at you adoringly.

“Oh, why thank you.” Your hand moved to press his thigh briefly, attempting to keep him focused on something different from the contact of your bodies against each other. His own hand squeezed your waist in a silent reply. It felt almost domestic. “Trust me, I’m so thankful to have met him. I never thought I’d ever have the luck to meet someone this trustworthy and loving. He can be quite difficult sometimes, but that’s just what you deal with when you love someone.”

Your words stung - especially after his conversation with Jesper - but he tried to stop his expression from betraying his feelings. What you said sounded so honest. So unfiltered that they nearly sounded true. But, of course, that was only what he wanted to hear. He wanted to believe that he had a chance. That any of this could eventually be real someday. It was just wishful thinking though.

“And I’m thankful that they’re willing to put up with me,” Kaz replied, his voice as gentle as ever. “I’m not the easiest man to deal with, I’m fully aware of that, but they make me want to try. They were likely one of the best things to happen to me in a very long time.”

He felt you tense up next to him, giving Kaz the notice that he was overdoing it a bit.

“Oh my days, may you always think of each other like that,” the woman across from you swooned, flashing her husband a smile that must have been saucy like twenty years ago.

The conversation about international relations resumed, going on for what felt like at least another hour. For the entirety of said hour, he didn’t let go of your waist, occasionally changing the strength of his grip whenever things began to become uncomfortable. You noticed but chose not to intervene.

When the talk was coming to an end, more and more people stopping to have a chat with your conversational partners, you noticed a group of uniformed men in the crowd. Uniformed men that were a bit too vigilant to be plain guests. You felt your mouth go completely dry when you recognised who they were.

“Stadwatch,” you hissed into Kaz’s ear, his eyes meeting yours in an instant.

The Stadwatch didn’t usually frequent university events. They had other duties to fulfil and they were rarely ever needed at campus events anyway. No one had expected them to be here. Not even Kaz. Once they would spot him, things would stop going as smoothly as they had been up until now.

“They can’t see us or else we’re not getting out of here unscathed,” he whispered, a foreign look of panic spread across his face.

“Oh you don’t say?” you shot back sarcastically.

“Kiss me.” The request left his mouth before he could even properly think about it.

“What?”

“If they see us, we have to get away as soon as possible. I won’t be able to outrun them in a room full of people without my proper cane. But if the only thing they see is a couple simply minding themselves, they won’t bother to look at us any longer than they need to,” he explained hastily, his gaze constantly flittering towards the approaching men, whose eyes scanned the auditorium acerbically.

“Kaz, what about-”

“Y/N, just do it.”

You were rendered speechless for a second, not wanting to cross his boundaries any further than you already had. Neither of you could claim to be just friends if you went through with this. However, once you saw the urgency of the situation, you knew that you needed to move.

With one hand on his shoulder, you tugged him towards you, hesitantly pulling him in. You gave him the option of stopping, his lips hovering close to yours for a moment. But he didn’t take it, instead, closing the distance between the two of you - pressing his lips against yours tentatively.

Kaz’s mind was running wild. Not only was he overwhelmed by the fact that his skin was touching yours, he also couldn’t quite fathom that he actually was kissing you. He had imagined kissing you before - a thought that was quickly shooed away whenever it appeared. But truly going through with it had never been on his list of possibilities. Admittedly, the pictures accompanying the feeling of your lips on his weren’t pretty, yet he attempted to push them away as best as he could.

You were alive. Alive. Alive. Alive.

He repeated the sentence like a mantra. It seemed to stop the waves from advancing over his knees, so he just continued reciting the sentence inside his mind.

The kiss didn’t last more than a few moments, nonetheless, he wasn’t sure whether his body could handle the surge of emotions that rushed through him. His skin felt like it had been set aflame, while his head was entirely clouded with the overwhelming feelings the kiss had created.

“We should leave,” you breathed out, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him to his feet.

Without saying goodbye, both of you sped through the crowd, not caring what the other guests thought of you. On your way out, you almost ran into Inej and Nina who were more than relieved to see that the two of you were alright. Albeit a bit perplexed by the way your hand was still clutching onto his sleeve.

“Saints, what took you so long?” Nina asked lowly. “We were close to dragging you out there ourselves.”

“My apologies, we were a bit occupied,” Kaz hissed back, nodding towards the Stadwatch officers.

Matthias, Jesper and Wylan were waiting for you outside of the university building, all three of them a quivering bundle of nerves. Jesper’s shirt had been buttoned up very carelessly, whilst Wylan’s hair looked a complete mess. Matthias looked like he was about to murder someone, but that wasn't unusual. Without them having to say a word, you knew that your plan had worked. You didn’t ask them about it directly though. At this point, all of you just wanted to get back to the Slat.

“What is it now, Jesper?” Kaz sighed as the Zemeni boy entered his office with a proud smile. After everything that went down today, he just wanted to spend some time alone, pushing away all of the thoughts that plagued his mind on his way back. He knew that he probably should talk to you, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“Wylan and I are a thing now,” he basically beamed, rocking back and forth on the soles of his feet whilst looking at Kaz expectantly.

“About time. We thought we’d have to watch you pine over one another until we’re old and gray.” He noticed his mistake as soon as he finished the sentence. His mind had betrayed him once more by giving you this much of a role in his life.

And even though he hoped that Jesper would be too elated to care about his boss’ slip-up, he knew that this was far from reality. His eyebrows threatened to shoot off of his face as he turned Kaz’s words around in his mind.

“We? Who is we? Am I missing something?” he questioned inquisitively.

“No one. You’re not missing anything, Jesper.”

“I’m not letting this go that easily. Who is we?”

“Y/N and I.” He avoided Jesper’s gaze, hoping that he would just let it go this once. But of course, Jesper was Jesper - incredibly obnoxious and lacking any sort of critical thinking.

“Y/N and you? What does that mean? Did you know that Wylan and I liked each other?”

“Don’t be dense. Neither you nor the merchling is necessarily good at keeping a secret for longer than needed. We just couldn’t watch your feelings impact the team like this without saying anything. You could have been done with all of this way sooner had you just caught the broad hints you were giving each other,” Kaz clarified, omitting the fact that you did more than talk.

“Wait, you didn’t just talk about us, did you?” For fuck’s sake, why couldn’t he be this attentive when it came to doing his job? “The coffee date - that was your plan all along! You never intended to take me on a job, and Y/N never intended to go to that café with Wylan. It was all just an elaborate scheme to get us to go on a date! And the fact that you paired us up for the last mission wasn’t just pure coincidence either. You planned all of that! Which was also why Y/N didn’t have a set role in the plan. It wasn’t your main objective. You set us up!”

“Are you complaining?”

“Saints, you smug bastard. Hell, both of you are smug bastards! I suppose that’s why you work so well together,” Jesper laughed, continuously shaking his head in disbelief.

“I suppose that’s why we don’t,” Kaz muttered under his breath, barely loud enough to be audible. But somehow, the Zemeni boy still caught his comment.

“What do you mean? I thought you told them?”

“I didn’t,” he rasped out, his eyes regrettably landing on your chair. A chair you would probably never sit in. At least not for the same reasons you used to. “I couldn’t.”

“Kaz, please don’t tell me that you just awkwardly sat next to them without speaking to them the whole evening. That’s a new low - even for you.”

“It was far worse than that,” the gang leader groaned, letting a hand run through his unruly hair. He considered telling his friend to leave, however, the need to get him off his case persisted. “We kissed.”

“What?” Some of the crows that had been sitting on the ledge outside his window maniacally scattered away, startled by the sudden boom of Jesper’s voice. “You kissed them? It seems like Nina does owe me five kruge now.”

“That doesn’t mean that I told them that I liked them.” If it had been humanly possible, the sharpshooter could have collected his jaw off of the floor by now. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that the Bastard of the Barrel finally did what everyone else thought you had been doing for the entire time anyway without telling you that his feelings weren’t just strictly platonic.

“How badly did you mess up?” he sputtered, sitting down in the chair next to him since he was close to passing out because of the mere stress this situation was causing him.

“Very.”

“Elaborate.”

“The Stadwatch showed up and we had to act fast. Somehow asking them to kiss me was the only idea I had to keep them from seeing us. They were clearly uncomfortable with the kiss, and we have been avoiding each other ever since coming back to the Slat. I don’t think they’ll ever be able to look me in the eyes again.” Jesper’s grin grew wide as he processed his words. This was way better - and equally way worse - than anything he could have imagined.

“You desperate prick,” he chuckled. “Obviously kissing them was your first thought when you needed to look for a way out. If it had been me and Wylan in your situation I would have done the same.”

“But I am not you. I should have come up with something different. I don’t act on the first impulse that shoots through my brain.”

“But you did. And now you hate yourself for going through with it and not being able to hide your feelings for them anymore.” This was probably the first true assessment Jesper had ever made concerning his friend’s emotional landscape.

“What do you suggest I do then?”

“Are you seriously asking me for advice now?” the sharpshooter replied quizzically.

“Don’t push it.”

“Go talk to them. They either absolutely hated it and will never speak to you again, or they feel the same and are just as emotionally constipated as you.”

“Come in,” you called towards the door, while you were still busy trying to get that damned corset off. It had been a nice addition to your already over-the-top outfit, but now it only proved to be a complete nuisance. You just couldn’t manage to take it off.

You had expected Jesper to waltz into your room, boasting about how he quite literally swept Wylan off his feet during their makeshift ‘date’. But instead of an erratic sharpshooter, you were met with a surprisingly hesitant Dirtyhands. He entered wordlessly, shutting the door tightly behind him as if he wanted to keep out an unwanted guest.

Something inside you told him that you needed to brace yourself for one of the cruellest rejections you would ever have to face. He was about to tell you that the kiss meant nothing and that everything going on between you was just merely work-related. Maybe you should have pretended to be asleep.

“You’re still wearing the clothes from earlier.” His statement sounded unsure. As if he wasn’t quite certain that this absolutely extravagant outfit and a corset wouldn’t be your usual clothing choice to wear to bed.

“I have no other choice. This corset is holding me hostage. And I didn’t want to bother the others.” You reached behind you again, fiddling with the knot that only seemed to grow tighter the longer you tried to untie it. “But I’ll have to resort to asking them eventually if I can’t get this saintsforsaken thing to open.”

“Let me,” he proposed meekly, taking a few steps towards you to highlight the sincerity of his offer.

“You don’t have to. I’m sure I’ll figure it out somehow.”

“It’s ridiculous watching you flop around like a fish on land. Let me put you out of your misery,” he tried again.

“Okay.”

You turned around, showing him the entangled mess you had created by not being able to see what you were doing. With steady hands, he got to work, immediately feeling at home with having some sort of puzzle to solve rather than having to face the dreaded conversation. You felt his fingers brush over the fabric of your clothes occasionally, his touch brief but gentle.

“What did you come here to talk about?” You broke the silence, causing him to pause his mission momentarily. He hated that you brought the reason for his visit up while he was still so close to you. But somehow, not having to be face-to-face with you granted him at least some sort of dignity.

“I wanted to talk about earlier.”

“How far back earlier?” you snorted bitterly.

“I didn’t mean to be so harsh on you this morning if that’s what you’re referring to. I understand that I had no right to talk to you like that.” He loosened the last few ribbons that kept the corset pressed against your torso, allowing you to take it off in one swift move.

“That sounds an awful lot like an apology coming from you.” You tossed the piece of cloth to the side, turning to fully look at him again.

“That’s because it is. But don’t get used to it. I don’t want you to become spoiled,” he quipped. “Even though I have to…acknowledge one more thing.”

“Don’t let me stop you from pouring your heart out.”

“The kiss…” he began, closing his eyes to focus on the weight of the things he was about to admit. “It wasn’t completely pleasant - for obvious reasons - and it definitely wasn’t ideal. But I don’t regret it.”

“So you’d be fine with putting it past us and accepting that it was a mean to an end?” In all honesty, you had no idea what he was trying to tell you.

“No, that’s exactly what I want to avoid.” It took him a second to catch himself again. “I don’t think we can act like nothing happened today. I can’t.”

“Are you planning to kick me out of the Dregs?” You sounded a bit more hurt than you had intended to, but the prospect of him forcing you to leave the people you had considered family was not something you took lightly.

“What? No, of course not. Y/N, just listen to me for a bit, okay?” He really wasn’t doing himself any favours, was he? “I would never fire you because of an issue I caused. No matter how lowly you may think of me, I’m not doing that.” He waited for the shock on your face to subside before continuing. “I don’t dislike you. I never did. And I don’t think I ever could. But that’s precisely what’s making this so difficult for me. Everything I said about you at the ball was the honest truth. As honest and truthful as I can be.”

He watched as you started to follow what he was saying.

“You love me? What- How? Why now? I don’t understand,” you faltered, eyes searching his face for an indication that this was all some insensitive joke he was making.

“I have for quite some time now. I just never wanted to admit it. Our ‘entanglement’ with Jesper and Wylan brought all of that back to the surface, I suppose. And I don’t think that I would have been able to act as I used to before if I hadn't told you eventually.”

“I meant what I said too,” you retorted, enticing him to raise a questioning brow. “I do think that you can be a huge asshole sometimes, but I’m willing to put up with it if what you say is genuine.”

“You’re willing to put up with it?”

“Saints Kaz, I’m trying to tell you that I feel the same, quit acting so thick. It makes me like you a little less.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure that I love you? Pretty much. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have agreed to kiss you. Or going as your date for that matter.”

“Does that mean that we should thank Wylan and Jesper for being the reason we finally realised that?”

“Absolutely not. Jesper is enjoying his victory way too much for that. Not knowing that they didn’t do all of that by themselves is probably the best choice.”

“About that…”

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Kaz Brekker: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @juneberrie @writingmysanity @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @brekkers-desigirl @fall-writes

Misc: @4-ravener-7

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 6 months ago

Text

a deal is a deal // set it up part one

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Requests

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x gn!Reader

A/N: I have no words or reason for this fic. I watched the movie 'Set It Up' recently, and I just knew that I had to write a fic inspired by it. I didn't intend on indulging in it this much, but this fic will definitely be a two-partner since I have written almost 10K words and I can't possibly post that monstrosity in good conscience. I absolutely love the concept of matchmaking and fake dating, so consider this fic one huge clusterfuck of tropes I enjoy. And I hope all of you can enjoy it too <3

You can find part two here!

Summary: Wylan and Jesper are helplessly pining over each other, and everyone is starting to get sick of it. Especially Kaz and the reader seem to have suffered enough under their friends' behaviour. So of course, the only reasonable conclusion is to set them up.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 5.0K

Warnings: Cursing, feelings, Kaz being a little bitch, pining, mention of his touch aversion

“Unless you saw someone cheat at Three Man Bramble, I don’t appreciate you spying on paying customers.” You were close to falling off your barstool when Kaz’s voice materialised beside you all of a sudden.

“For Saints’ sake, Kaz!” you hissed at the darkly-clad man leaning against the bar to your left, a certain look of amusement accentuating his features as he saw the way you panickedly held onto the counter. He shook his head at how easily startled you were. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that. I was dangerously close to knocking you out.”

He raised his brows, throwing a telling glance at his cane, and then back at you. Sneaking around wasn’t exactly his speciality. At least not during the main business hours of the Crow Club. He preferred to make his presence known.

“Didn’t I just tell you to stop prying?” Kaz repeated nervelessly when your eyes returned to the card’s table you had been staring at for about half an hour now. Not that he would know how long you had been sitting here. It’s not like he had been watching you during said half an hour. He had other - a lot more significant - tasks to tend to, rather than wasting his time by letting himself get distracted by you.

“Shush,” you silenced him quickly, craning your head slightly towards him to get a better view of your stalking victims. “I’m not spying on paying customers. I’m spying on Jesper and Wylan. That’s as far away from paying customers as it can get.”

“And why exactly would you do that?”

“Jesper went right to the gambling tables after we came back from the job earlier, and he has stayed there ever since. I assume you can guess who has been standing right next to him for just as long? Our little merchling is so in love, it’s painful to watch,” you whispered excitedly, completely ignoring the fact that Kaz was not one to necessarily care for dull relationship gossip.

“I should stop giving you this much time off if this is how you choose to spend it,” he grumbled, subtly following your gaze to watch the terribly awkward scene between the two Crows. Not because he genuinely cared about their immature ways of expressing their emotions, of course.

“Don’t be such a grump, Brekker,” you snorted, giving him a playful eye roll. “Admit it, they’d make such a cute couple! They could probably even compete with Nina and Matthias - don’t tell her I said that.”

“Judging by the fact that Zenik and Helvar were blood-sworn enemies before they fell into their…situationship, that won’t be such a difficult task.”

“See! You think they’d be a great fit too! What a shame one is just as oblivious as the other,” you sighed, twirling around the few remaining ice cubes that floated around in your drink.

“And you think staring them down will help ease their obliviousness?” Your head turned to face him fully, a mischievous glimmer present in your eyes. A glimmer he really didn’t like.

“Help me,” you blurted out.

“Help you with what?” he asked, a quizzical expression on his face.

“Oh, uhm, I have no concise plan yet since I thought you’d just immediately say no to me asking you for help. What I know is that I can’t watch them tiptoe around their feelings any longer. I need to do something. And you are precisely the right person to help me with that.”

“What exactly makes me the ‘right person’ to help you with getting these two idiots together?”

“Think about it. I’m Wylan’s best friend, you’re Jesper’s best friend - don’t you dare deny it! Together we can get all the intel - all the important information on how they feel about each other. It’s perfect! We could set them up and they wouldn’t even notice our involvement.”

“Absolutely not,” Kaz answered determinedly, choosing to not indulge in your childish games any longer. “As long as it’s not affecting their job performance, their relationship is none of my concern. I have more important things to do than worry about their problems with intimacy.”

“Come on, Kaz. Please?” you pouted as the man in question already shifted to head back to his office again.

“No, Y/N. They’ll be fine without our interference,” he tactfully ignored your overly dramatic plea.

“Alright, alright,” you mumbled, watching him leave with a hint of disappointment settling in your chest. “You’ll regret it eventually.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Jesper, you’ll need to- Jesper? Jesper, focus,” Kaz ordered, having to pry the sharpshooter’s eyes away from the window for what felt like the hundredth time today. He, Inej and the lovesick Zemeni boy had been working on the details of a minor upcoming job for over two hours, seemingly not making any noticeable progress. It was safe to say that this issue was instantly accredited to Jesper, whose mind appeared to be somewhere completely else.

Even though Kaz didn’t want to admit it, he did regret not taking you up on your offer of trying to get the two together. It had become more and more evident that they were too blind to see that their feelings were mutual, and Kaz was starting to get sick of it. Why couldn’t they just act on their feelings and spare everyone around them the pain of having to watch them act like insecure little kids? What did they have to lose? It was ridiculous, really.

Kaz knew that he was close to losing his patience. And his composure would jump out of the window soon after if things didn’t change.

“Sorry boss,” Jesper apologised hastily, sitting up a bit straighter and at least acting as if his attention was back on the mindless scribbles in front of him. “I was just a bit lost in thought. The…weather is so pretty today, after all.”

The weather in question was a mixture of dark gloomy clouds and the occasional rain shower - a typical day in Ketterdam, but definitely far from pretty. Maybe the weather that Jesper had in mind was ginger and able to play the flute, Kaz thought.

“We should probably leave this here,” he let out a huffed breath, meeting Inej’s confused glance.

“What? But the jo-”

“The job can only work if everyone is on the same page,” he interjected Jesper’s unnecessary attempt at defending himself. “You can leave - both of you. I’ll see what I can work out on my own.”

“Are you sure you won’t need any help with this?” the Suli girl asked hesitantly, waiting for her friend to give them another task instead of just letting them off the hook this easily.

“No, it’s fine. Go,” he nodded towards the door, his eyes following Jesper, who was already on his way out. Before Inej could do the same, he decided to give her one last task. “Inej? Tell Y/N to come up here in the next five minutes. I need to discuss something with them.”

“You wanted to see me, boss?” you questioned as soon as you entered Kaz’s semi-tidy office space. When Inej told you that he wanted to speak to you, your heart almost sunk to the bottom of your stomach. People being called up to speak to Kaz rarely ever got out with their dignity still intact.

“Sit,” he demanded, his gaze never leaving the papers on his desk as he motioned for you to sit in the chair across from him.

“Kaz, if this is about th-”

“Don’t start. Whatever you were about to tell me has probably not been brought to my attention yet, so I won’t allow it to occupy my mind until it pops up on its own. Now sit.”

You carefully obeyed his request, slowly sinking into the offered chair while your eyes still remained fixed on the man in front of you.

“He has become absolutely insufferable,” Kaz sighed, letting his fountain pen drop out of his hand and finally acknowledging your physical presence with a defeated glare. “I didn’t even think it was possible for him to become even more intolerable.”

“Who exactly are you talking about?”

“Who do you think I’m talking about? Our favourite bawdy flirt-gill has been acting like an infatuated teenage girl and it is driving me mad.”

“Oh! You’re talking about Jesper!” you let out a stifled laugh upon seeing his tired expression. “So you’re basically admitting that I was right about us having to intervene?”

“I’m merely admitting that there was some truth to what you were saying. Don’t get it twisted and don’t get used to it,” he corrected dryly. “And wipe that self-satisfied grin off your face. I didn’t call you up here to bask in your supposed victory.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do about it?” you replied sheepishly, fully aware that you were dangerously close to testing your limits.

“I’m agreeing to whatever you had in mind as long as it stops Jesper from acting like this.”

“Consider it a deal.”

“When I told you that I’m agreeing to whatever you had in mind as long as it stops Jesper from acting like a dotty puppy, I didn’t mean that you were allowed to barge into my office whenever you please,” your boss grumbled, watching you stumble through the door like you had one drink too many.

“Good morning, Kaz, it’s lovely to see you too,” you dismissed his very obviously spiteful remark, walking right up to the chair you had dubbed yours. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our two problem children and I had an idea.”

“Oh, so miracles do happen,” he jeered, letting himself lean back in his chair as he watched you get comfortable.

“With all due respect - which isn’t a lot - go fuck yourself.”

“I’ll consider it once you’re done telling me about that magnificent idea of yours.”

“Okay, so, Wylan just stopped me in the hallway to ask whether I want to get coffee with him next Friday.” A waterfall of words began to tumble out of your mouth, giving Kaz quite a few difficulties following what you were trying to say. “So, wouldn’t it be an absolute coincidence if Jesper would also go out for a coffee on Friday? It would be such a nice change of pace for them to spend time with…different people - other than us.”

“I am not asking Jesper to go get coffee with me,” Kaz replied laconically, giving you a dissatisfied look in an attempt to convey that he was not too fond of your musings.

“I am not asking you to get a coffee with Jesper - Saints, that man is going to think that you have a thing for him. We don’t even have to leave the Slat for this plan to work.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

“Please explain to me again why specifically I have to join you on that job?” Jesper bemoaned as he followed Kaz down the stairs. He was not in the mood for playing his boss’ bodyguard today. He wasn’t even in the mood to leave the Slat. It didn’t help that a certain merchling had been occupying his mind for the entirety of last week, pushing every coherent thought to the furthest corner of his brain. “Can’t you ask Inej? Or Matthias? Or literally anyone else? Wait, why don’t you just ask Y/N? You two seem to be getting along surprisingly well recently.”

“Y/N is already busy,” Kaz objected skilfully. “And having a normal work relationship is not the same as ‘getting along surprisingly well’. Flush these thoughts out of your system immediately.”

“I’m just saying,” Jesper snickered, putting his hand up in front of him defensively.

“Kaz? Jesper?” your cheery voice greeted them as soon as they entered the living room area. Wylan and you had been lounging on the couch for quite some time now, simply chatting about life - and love, even though Wylan refused to give you too much information on his ill-fated crush. Of course, you had ulterior motives for staying that long, but your friend didn’t know that. “What are the two of you up to?”

"We have a job near Fourth Harbour," Kaz replied sternly.

"And he's forcing me to come with him," the sharpshooter groaned, his eyes drifting towards the timid boy sitting next to you, flashing him a cocky wink. "What are you up to? Whatever it is, it looks like a lot more fun than whatever Mister Ruin-My-Mood has in store for me."

"Jesper," Kaz warned, throwing you a quick glance, wordlessly asking you to take over.

"We wanted to head out for coffee and some sweet treats later," you mused, watching Jesper's expression turn sour.

"Won't you look at that, Kaz? This is what other friends do in their spare time," he grumbled.

"Hey, why don't you two just go and grab a coffee?" you offered, your gaze wandering between the two soon-to-be lovebirds.

"Us?" Wylan stammered, his finger pointing from him to Jesper, who looked equally as befuddled.

"Yes, you. Jes clearly isn't in the mood for going on a job today, and I haven't been on a proper one in ages," you suggested, giving your friends an encouraging smile.

"You genuinely want to join Kaz on a job with just the two of you? Like willingly?" the Zemeni boy joked, nudging your shoulder with his elbow.

"I'm sure I'll manage. Kaz?" You gave him an expectant look, watching as the ghost of a smirk flashed over his lips.

"Fine," he rasped, causing Jesper to break out into a wide grin, whilst Wylan looked a little short of horrified. "Maybe now we'll actually get some work done."

"And maybe we'll finally get some peace and quiet, won't we? I haven’t gone out just to get coffee in such a long time.” His attention turned to the young merch, whose head had turned as red as the soles of Jesper’s shoes.

“I’m sure you will have the loveliest of days,” Kaz deadpanned, gesturing for you to follow him outside into the hallway.

“Enjoy your day!” you called before quickly exiting the living room, leaving Wylan alone to deal with his crush. You could have sworn that he mouthed the word ‘help’ before you crossed the threshold to the corridor.

“That worked way better than I had expected,” he uttered, barely loud enough for you to hear his words clearly.

“I told you it would work,” you bragged, earning a disapproving headshake from the man standing next to you. “You’re not the only mastermind in this team.”

“So what’s the next step in your plan then?”

“We could just stay back here and wait for them to come back. I’m sure they’d tell us if something happened between them.” You locked eyes with him again, the intensity causing goosebumps to spread over his arms. “Or we could get out and follow them. Just to make sure that they’re alright of course.”

“I’m not following them.”

“This is ridiculous,” Kaz said as he watched you gape at Jesper and Wylan who were currently sitting on the terrace of the café you had pushed them to go to. You found a corner table at the bakery across from where your friends were sitting, giving you the chance to stay unnoticed while also being able to see whatever was going on between them.

“This is fun,” you hummed, leaning a bit further forwards to flash Kaz a cheeky smile, which was slightly hidden by the obnoxious fake roses in the middle of the table. “Don’t you want to see how this will turn out?”

“No.” You frowned at the impassive tone of his voice.

“You didn’t have to join me, Kaz.” He didn’t. He knew that. As a matter of fact, the pile of unfinished documents on his desk only seemed to get higher by the minute. Yet, against all his better judgement, he still abandoned his work in an instant just to go and see whether your plan was working or not. It was foolish to agree to it, however, for some reason, he still did. He was going insane - he was sure of it.

“I don’t trust you to not fuck this up on the first chance you get,” he stated after a short moment of him just staring at the empty space beside your head.

“You trust no one, yet I don’t see you holding Matthias’ hand whenever you let him go on a solo job - well, metaphorically holding his hand.”

Before Kaz could defend himself, the waitress approached your table, bringing over both of your drinks. She had a sickly sweet smile on her painted lips that made him want to bash his head onto the table. He resisted said urge in order to not make a scene though.

“I’ll assume the black coffee is for you?” the woman joked, eying Kaz’s grimly-looking outfit from head to toe, silently accepting the cup and placing it in front of him. She handed you the drink you had ordered and turned around to attend to the other guests. “Feel free to call me over in case you need anything else. Enjoy your date!”

Kaz almost choked on his own spit when he heard that. This was not a date. Not in a million years would he consider this a date. He attempted to seek some sort of confirmation that you shared his sentiment, but when he looked at your face, you didn’t even seem to care about the waitress’ atrocious assumption.

“What is it?” you inquired lowly on taking notice of his slightly bewildered expression.

“She thinks that this is a date. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“… No? Why should it have?” Kaz mentally thanked his luck that Nina wasn’t around. If she had been here to hear the way his heart was running wild she would have probably thought he had a heart attack.

“This is not a date.”

“Yes, I’m very well aware of that fact,” you let out a breathy chuckle in response to that. “And that’s exactly why it doesn’t bother me. I know that this isn’t a date. You know that this isn’t a date. So why should it matter what some random waitress thinks?”

“Oh…” For some odd reason, your answer disappointed him. This wasn’t a date, so you were right to say it. But something inside of him was beginning to make itself known.

“Oh no,” you muttered, your gaze back on the people you were actually here for. He did the same, regretting it immediately as he saw the uncomfortable scene playing out in the other café.

Wylan and Jesper were sitting across from each other at one of the tables on the terrace, giving you the perfect view of every interaction between them. But instead of them looking like the happy couple you had imagined they would be by now, Jesper was frantically collecting paper napkins, trying to help Wylan clean up the massive coffee stain that had formed a deep brown blotch on his previously neat beige sweater. And to make things even worse, the clumsy sharpshooter had taken matters into his own hands, pulling the flustered boy closer to him by the collar, whilst wiping a dry napkin over the mess he made - his face a mixture of despair and complete distress.

“Idiots,” Kaz sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to spare himself the embarrassment of watching them any longer.

“Maybe we should put them in a situation they’re more acquainted with the next time.”

“Are you familiar with the concept of knocking?” He was close to jumping out of his skin when the door to his office flew open without a warning, only for it to be you standing on the other side with two cups of tea in your hands. He hastily caught himself, acting as if you hadn't just scared him shitless. It was way too late for any person with even an ounce of self-preservation skills to enter his space without giving him any sort of notice, but of course, you just had to be the exception.

“Are you familiar with the concept of locking your door if you don’t want to be disturbed?” you quipped, not waiting for him to give you permission to enter before waltzing right over to his desk. The mug was quickly placed in front of him and you threw yourself into ‘your’ chair.

“This may be the Barrel, but some of its inhabitants still possess the basic manners of announcing their presence when they intend to bother me in my own office.” Kaz eyed your offering suspiciously, pulling the cup towards himself as if he feared that you might have spiked its content. “What is this?”

“Tea?”

“I know that it’s tea. I'm not dense,” he said, a bit annoyed now.

“Then why are you asking?”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Kaz, you’re not a toddler. You know what to do when someone places a drink in front of you.”

“Why are you bringing me tea, Y/N?”

“That's an adequate question. I had another idea on how to get Jesper and Wylan to admit their feelings,” you began, enticing Kaz to internally question every single decision in his life that made him end up in this situation.

“And you needed to bring me tea to make me listen to that idea? You're either about to drug me into submission or you’re finally attempting to kill me.”

“Sadly neither - yet. But I had the idea while making tea. And I would have felt bad if I went up here without offering you something to drink too,” you replied meekly, a faint blush settling on your cheeks.

“I hope your idea isn’t tea-related. We shouldn’t bring the two dimwits near anything that's spillable anytime soon.”

"I solemnly swear there are no liquids involved in my idea. At least not explicitly," you assured.

"That better be the case. Let's hear it then," he muttered, begrudgingly taking a sip from his tea whilst waiting for you to collect your thoughts. It startled him how good the drink tasted. He hated that you knew exactly what tea he liked and how he liked to have it.

"You still haven't finished splitting us up in groups for the upcoming heist, have you?"

"If you hadn't dragged me along to play matchmaker, the plan would already stand," he grumbled, looking at the stack of blueprints he had yet to analyse for possible security risks.

"Then I'd like to make one suggestion. How about we - well, you - pair Jesper and Wylan together? We're all pretty familiar with jobs like this, so that shouldn't be an issue. Maybe having them work alongside each other could give their relationship just the push it needs."

Kaz looked like he was about to throw himself out the next best window. It was one thing that you had inserted yourself into the majority of his spare time like an unwelcome flu. Now you were also trying to insert yourself into his work? You were really trying to break him down to bits. And maybe he should let you.

"Please, Kaz. I'll even help you with all your boring preparation and mapping out. I genuinely think this could work," you put forward, knowing that the likelihood of him agreeing to this plan was close to non-existent.

"I'll allow it," he said, averting his eyes to look at basically anything else just to avoid letting them land on you.

"What?"

"Have you gone deaf? I said that I'll allow it," he repeated.

"Kaz, I swear to every Saint you don't believe in, I'm so close to kissing you - you’re amazing!" you exclaimed jokingly, a wide grin on your face.

"Do it and find out what ditch you'll end up in," he threatened, but you were too excited to care about the murderous look on his face.

After almost a week of scheming, scheduling and planning in the security of Kaz’s office, you had finally managed to put together a plan that would ensure two things. The success of the job. And the fact that Jesper and Wylan would be staying at each other’s side the whole time.

“I think we can pull this off,” Kaz muttered, visibly still very much in thought.

“You think we can pull this off?” you asked, absent-mindedly twirling one of his pens around your fingers.

“No.” He swiftly snatched it back, putting it down and giving you a self-assured grin. “We will pull this off.”

A few days later, all the Crows had gathered in the cramped attic space, more or less eager to hear about the plans for the upcoming mission.

“Please don’t tell me that we’ll have to go through all of these blueprints again,” Jesper whined as he saw the stack of layout plans that sat at the edge of Kaz’s desk. They had been on jobs in the University District before, so the quite hefty pile of blueprints wasn’t completely unknown to them. More than one evening had been spent slaving over them, spying out every minuscule detail that could give them any sort of advantage. But these plans were new - updated. And everyone dreaded having to do the whole ordeal of looking at them for a second time.

“Y/N and I already went through them, the annotations should suffice. Not much has changed,” Kaz answered, unaware of the suspicious glances his nonchalant comment created. It was well known that you avoided mapping out blueprints like the plague, so this revelation did raise some brows.

“Y/N and you?” Nina and Jesper blurted almost synchronously. They had noticed your absence from their usual evening get-togethers, simply chalking it up to you being under the weather or something. What they hadn’t expected was you sneaking away from them because you went to spend time with the Bastard of the Barrel. Now that they knew the latter had been the case, they had some certain thoughts on what the reason for these nightly visits might be - none of them strictly work-related.

“Congratulations, you have a basic understanding of auditory information processing. Yes, Y/N and I.” Kaz allowed his gaze to shift towards you. It felt odd to not have you sit in front of him, energetically discussing plans and ideas while the noise of Ketterdam’s streets seemed to have fully vanished underneath the sound of your voices. He hated to think that way, but he had grown used to having you around. Whether it be you staggering into his office to propose another utterly insane plot to get your friends to date, or just you keeping him company with whatever talk you could offer. The thought of this routine being ripped away from him once Jesper and Wylan realise their feelings are reciprocated filled him with more dissatisfaction than relief.

“Since when does Y/N care for analysing blueprints?” The Heartrender asked slyly.

“I don’t. It was my forfeit,” you replied before Kaz could. “We had a bet on how much money Jesper would be able to lose in a span of three days. Let’s just say that Kaz really does know you better than I do, Jes.” A lie. A good lie, Kaz thought. The only reason why you would spend your evenings talking to him would probably be the loss of a bet. But that didn’t make the pull on his heartstrings hurt any less.

“Rude,” the sharpshooter pouted.

“Anyway,” Kaz deflected, returning to his actual intention of this meeting. “We also took the liberty of assigning groups and tasks. So I’d advise you to listen carefully.” He adjusted the paper in his hands, letting his eyes fly over your jagged handwriting for the millionth time. “Helvar will pose as a guard - big and brawny with little to think about. One would say it’s the perfect fit.” Matthias let out a dissatisfied grunt at that comment. “Nina and Inej will keep an eye on who leaves, and who enters. And if there is anything suspicious you will alert me.” The two girls gave him a court nod, content that they were able to work together again. “I will attend as a guest. It’ll give me enough time and trust to hopefully get some information on the new ware shipments that are supposed to arrive the week after the ball. Our main objective is getting intel. Any other material acquisitions are just perks. And finally Wylan and Jesper.” The two boys stared at Kaz with an uncomfortable expression. He had never paired them up before. Why was he starting now? “Since the majority of university personnel will be present at the ball, you’ll take care of breaking into the administration’s office. I need some precise data on the involvement of the Council in sponsoring the university.”

“What about Y/N?” A brief pause followed Inej’s simple question.

After all these hours of planning, you had forgotten to add yourself to the equation. You had been so focussed on giving the two lovebirds some alone time that your absence went completely unnoticed. Both of you felt utterly stupid. How could you have missed that?

“They’ll be my date,” Kaz answered a bit too quickly, not letting the thudding of his heart betray his stone-faced expression.

“My condolences.” Matthias gave you an apologetic but calm look, whilst everyone else in the room seemed to be utterly shocked by their boss’ comment. Even you had to suppress the state of absolute shock that had threatened to spread over your face when he referred to you as his ‘date’. Saints, he himself didn’t believe the words that had just slipped out of his mouth.

“I’ll need someone to chat with the merchant spouses, or else I’ll lose my mind. Their presence can buy me enough time to get the information I need,” he explained, but the majority of his friends were too busy interpreting way too much into this situation to acknowledge his reasoning.

Maybe choosing Jesper as a partner would have been easier on his poor heart.

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Kaz Brekker: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @juneberrie @writingmysanity @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @brekkers-desigirl @fall-writes

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 6 months ago

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˗ˏˋ WIPS ˎˊ˗

⋆ I would never fall unless it's you

rosekiller sexuality discovery crack fic (2/4)

⋆ Arsonist's Lullabye

morally grey slytherin skittles focused fic at Hogwarts (rosekiller|jegulus|dorlene)

⋆ The Devil in your eyes

murder mystery rosekiller centred fic at the psych ward

⋆ Power Over Me

34k words | rosestarkillerchaser vamp au (2/3)

⋆ Fire on Fire

marydorlene poly au at hogwarts (1/4)

⋆ Daylight

rosestarkillerchaser trip au (2/8)

˗ˏˋ COMPLETED ˎˊ˗

⋆ You Hold My Heart In Your Hands

20k words | serial killer rosekiller au (3/3)

⋆ Addicted to You

6k words | endless cycle of the toxic rosekiller relationship (1/1)

⋆ My Devotion

5.5k words | bartylus toxic au (1/1)

⋆ Compass

20.4k words | rosestarkillerchaser band au (2/2)

⋆ D-man

7k words | rosekiller hockey au (1/1)

⋆ Free

4.8k words | rosekiller smut (1/1)

˗ˏˋ Upcoming ˎˊ˗

⋆ Devil's Night

The last thing Regulus Black ever saw was James Potter's warm brown eyes as he let him fall into the abyss.

⋆ you know you love me

toxic gossip girl au (rosekiller/bartylus/jegulus)

˗ˏˋOther Linksˎˊ˗

✩ Rosekiller microfic ✩ Snippets

✩ Arsonist's Lullabye Morality Chart

✩ Rosekiller microfic pt 1, 2

✩ Barty headcanons | Evan headcanons

✩ Rosekiller fic recs 1, 2, 3, 4

✩ Rosestarkiller microfic

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 7 months ago

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Six Of Crows/Shadow & Bone Recommendations

Main Master-list

Smut - *

Kaz Brekker Masterlist

The Darkling Masterlist

Matthias Helvar Masterlist

Jesper Fahey Masterlist

Tolya Yul-Bataar Masterlist

Nikolai Lantsov Masterlist

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 7 months ago

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 7 months ago

Photo

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 7 months ago

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TROUBLE ALMOST ALL MY LIFE MASTERLIST

Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader. pictures are not indicative of readers appearance. Reader has not got any racial features mentioned & we never see Emily’s dad so I have tried to make my fic as inclusive to all my fem!readers as possible! Please let me know if this is not the case <3

TROUBLE ALMOST ALL MY LIFE | the ONE time the BAU need you + the FOUR times you need them

NEARLY BROUGHT ME TO MY KNEES | the FIVE times Spencer thinks he likes you + the ONE time he knows

THERE’S NO SIGN OF LIFE | the one where you grieve Emily together + the one where you kiss him

THE KID HITS BACK | coming soon!

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 8 months ago

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64 Oslo Square

"Companion' Middle English. From Old French 'compaignon', literally 'one who breaks bread with another.

Strapped for cash, John gets a job at a bakery as their new delivery boy. Juggling school and Queen and work is exhausting, but it's more than worth it. It's worth it because of you.

Warnings for this chapter: the knowledge that i started this FIVE YEARS AGO FFS

Chapter Ten

It was late afternoon on Sunday, the tail-end of a painfully uneventful weekend. But then again, these days, ‘uneventful’ was something of a relief. Boring meant safe. Dull meant no more horrible surprises or eviction notices. You were just happy to have a few hours where the world didn’t feel like it had been completely turned on its head.

You weren’t the only one enjoying the peace and quiet. Even Gladys seemed a little cheerier when you bumped into her on your way back from the shops. She was busy in the office, sorting papers and getting everything tidy, though you struggled to ignore why she was getting herself organised.

Despite her effulgent greeting and the gorgeous sunshine, the bakery kitchens still felt eerily quiet. The ovens hadn’t been switched on in weeks. Once gleaming jars of ingredients sat gathering dust on the sides, even though you often came down just to give everything a quick clean when you were feeling restless. Just because the bakery wasn’t yours anymore, that didn’t mean you should let it fade away.

The old equipment - mixers, utensils, recipes - watched you, almost accusingly, as you walked through the kitchen. The whole room seemed to hold its breath whenever you entered, as if it blamed you for what had happened, as if it was waiting for you to promise you’d fight back, that you weren’t just giving up.

You placed your palm flat against the tiled wall, letting the cold seep into your skin. An apology.

In her office, Gladys was muttering away to herself. It wasn’t her usual warbling, it was much sharper. Behind her faux smile, she was angry with herself. You knew it, but couldn’t bring yourself to talk to her about it yet. You supposed you were still angry with her too.

Pressing your cooled hand to your forehead, you pulled in a breath deep enough to settle the tightness in your chest, then headed upstairs with your bags and bags of shopping.

Mickey was supposed to pop round later with Rita and the baby. Gladys had offered to buy you all dinner, an apology for what had happened and a thank you for years of hard work. Again, you struggled not to think about the reasons for the dinner. It would just be nice to see Mickey and to have a family dinner.

Tucking your hair back behind your ears for the umpteenth time, you twisted your wrist and curved a rubber spatula around the inside of the mixing bowl. It was a bit of a busman’s holiday for you, you could admit that, but you’d spent most of the week packing up your tiny and it was starting to weigh in your chest.

That morning, you had awoken with a renewed sense of determination, but when it finally came to packing up your poky kitchen, you had found the cupboards stuffed with ingredients. Rather than waste them all, you’d popped to the shops for what little else you needed and had been baking all morning, throwing together last minute gifts for your work family.

You’d just divvied up the mixture into identical tins when the phone rang. Swearing under your breath, you brushed your hands against the front of your old work apron, streaking the dark coffee-brown material with streaks of pale cake batter.

The phone continued to trill brightly as you picked your way through the living room, carefully skirting around cardboard boxes and stacks of books, magazines, records, and Lord knows what else. You checked your palm, grimaced, then gingerly picked up the phone.

“4531?”

“Come look out your window in… Ten seconds.”

“John?” You wrinkled your nose, confused, and pressed the receiver closer to your ear. “What d’you- Which window? Front or back?”

“Er… Back.”

You glanced towards your kitchen. Set into the wall, just beside the sink, was a small square window that looked out onto the alleyway outside. It offered a lovely view of the bins and the graffiti-covered flank of the building next door.

“John, don’t you ‘ave an exam tomorrow? Shouldn’t you be revisin’?”

“Nah, I never really revise for anything.”

“That kinda makes me wanna hit you a bit.”

“That’s fair. Y’know, they called me “Easy Deacon” at school.”

“What, because you-”

“Nope. Exams and things are just… Easy for me.”

“Kinda wanna hit you a bit more now.”

“Just come to the window.”

The line went dead with a faint clunk. Shaking your head fondly, you replaced the receiver then went to the window, as instructed.

It was almost insufferably hot in your flat. London in July was always awful. The buildings, built for keeping the heat in, left the air inside uncomfortably claggy and close, so you had all the windows flung open already.

Sticking your head out of the one in your kitchen, you peered down into the alley, just in time to catch John jogging round the corner, travelling far faster than you would have thought possible or safe considering his chunky platform boots.

For the first time in days - in fact, for the first time since you last saw him - you laughed.

“You’re daft, y’know that?” you shouted down.

Panting and grinning, John tilted his chin up to see you better.

“Good afternoon, Skip!”

The warm, yellow sunlight lit up his face, catching in his hair and making his eyes shine. John’s tiny T-shirt hugged his slim frame. He had a rucksack slung over his shoulder, his bony elbow sticking straight up in the air, like a model on the cover of a magazine. To call it a ‘bicep’ was generous, but his upper arm looked so good tensed like that, you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“Are you comin’ up?” you asked hopefully, letting your gaze slip up and down his body a few more times.

John smiled sheepishly.

“If that’s alright? I’ve got some work to do and there’s a big party tonight, so halls are a nightmare.”

“You’re not goin’?”

“Where?”

You laughed.

“To the disco!”

“Oh, right.”

John shrugged, then tilted his chin back even further, so now you could catch every angle of his lovely jaw and pale throat.

“I know where I’d rather be.”

Pressing down a charmed smile, you huffed and shook your head.

It turned out, you were right. When John walked into the bakery just before closing on that drizzly January night, you knew that there was more to that anxious, fidgety boy with the daft hair and shabby clothes. You knew instinctively that if you just got him to relax, to smile and feel at home, he’d show a side of him that very few were lucky to know. Cheeky, silly, and divertingly charming. And it was just for you.

“Well,” You nodded your head back over your shoulder, gesturing to your living room. “You better come in then.”

John grinned.

In a blink, he had disappeared inside the back door to the bakery, then you could hear his heavy-booted footsteps on the stairs.

You wasted no time getting him comfortable. With only four weeks left till Alastair officially took hold of the bakery for good, you had begrudgingly, painfully begun sorting your things.

There were boxes piled up everywhere, some brimming with clothes for the charity shop, some packed full of bric-a-brac you’d collected over the years and couldn’t bear to part with, an all manner of books and records, teapots and cutlery, posters and jewellery. Some of it had managed to spill out from your living room into your bedroom, crowding the kitchen table and making it difficult to tread anywhere without toppling a pile of tat over.

You scooped up a stack of bills and letters from the coffee table and dumped them on the kitchen counter instead - a feeble solution but the only one you had.

“Here you are,” you said, brushing off imaginary dust from the low table so that John could place his rucksack down.

“Thanks, love. Erm, you know…” John chewed at the corner of his thumb, his gaze struggling valiantly to hold yours. “If you did wanna go out tonight, you still owe me a dance.”

“I do, don’t I.” You glanced in the direction of the boxes piled high against the doorframe of your bedroom. “I don’t think ‘ave any clothes, though.”

The corner of John’s mouth twitched. As he sank to his knees beside the table, he opened his bag and took out a few tedious looking books.

“Sounds fine to me.”

You rolled your eyes and gently hit his arm with a stray magazine you scooped up from the coffee table.

“Nice clothes.”

“You’ll look beautiful in anything.” Rubbing his arm dramatically, John smiled so broadly, it made his cheeks bunch up and his eyes shine. “I just wanna go out with you.”

It was unbearably tempting. The thought of being pressed up against John in a dark nightclub, the music thudding in your ears and his hands in yours, or on your hips, your back, wherever they wanted to be.

You could see it, John’s little curls sticking to his damp forehead and temples, his tight clothes clinging to his tiny frame, his funny mouth by your ear as he shouted over the music, asking if you wanted to get out of here.

You’d end up back at yours, falling onto your bed or even the sofa, if you couldn’t wait another second. You honestly couldn’t care less. You just wanted, needed John’s mouth on yours, on your neck, his big clumsy hands mapping your body and his pretty eyes gazing up at you, so dark and full.

He’d been on your mind since you met him, everyone knew it, even John. Dancing with him, letting him pull you into him, sinking your teeth into his neck and grabbing his hips tight - it sounded like heaven.

You smiled.

“I’d love that.”

“Yeah? Really?”

John looked so pleased, you could’ve kissed him. Instead, you thought about it, and pushed his books towards him across the table.

“Go on, you be’er get started.”

Turning away towards the kitchen, you bowed your head, tucking your chin into your chest to hide your broad, excited grin.

Your life had been turned upside down, the cardboard boxes littering your poky flat were a reminder of that, but John still managed to make you feel several stories high. Somehow, despite everything, he made you feel like the world wasn’t ending. Just having him near made you forget about life outside these four walls for a while. It was just you and him, safe in a sanctuary just for two.

“Tea?”

“Please.”

“Have you had lunch?”

You barely glanced over your shoulder. You could guess the sheepish expression on his face without needing to look.

“Stupid question,” You lifted the kettle from the stove and held it under the tap. “I’ll make us somethin’. Any preferences?”

When he didn’t respond, you frowned.

“John?”

You flipped off the tap and settled the kettle back on the stove. You twisted your wrist, igniting the hob, then turned to find John peering out of your front window. His bag and his books lay ignored on the coffee table.

“Johnny? You alright?”

He still didn’t seem to hear you.

Before you could ask what was wrong, John pressed nearer to the window, so close now that the tip of his nose was practically bent up against the glass.

“Er, Skip?”

You watched his brow furrow in the reflection of the window.

“Did you know he was coming over today?”

Bewildered, you went to join him at the window.

It was a busy day. The high street was always packed with brightly coloured people, rushing to work or flitting from shop to shop like butterflies between meadow flowers. Scarlet buses streaked past, and between them, dark cars slotted into place. They moved together, like bees in a hive, individuals all moving in one great dance.

But there was one figure unlike the others, and your heart sank to see him. He moved like a shark towards the bakery, steady and focused, his dark suit setting him unnervingly out of place amongst the sweet wrapper colours all around him. Alastair.

“What’s that bastard doing back ‘ere?”

Your teeth clenched, your jaw compressing so tightly, it began to ache. As you watched, he pushed open the door to the bakery and disappeared inside. Your hands balled into fists.

Without thinking, you immediately stormed back into the kitchen and wrenched the hob’s dial back to ‘off’.

“I can’t believe he’d-”

You couldn’t think straight. All your ideas and plans for a nice afternoon with John had slipped from your mind, as well as all reasonable and rational thought. You couldn’t remember ever being so angry in all your life.

“I can’t believe- ‘Asn’t he caused enough- He can’t just-”

You fizzled and sparked like a dying firework, your mind in a million different places. Finally, you caught John glancing towards the door. You seemed to have the same idea at the same time.

Heart racing, you thundered down the stairs, taking them two at a time. You were moving so quickly, you practically fell into the door at the bottom, with John picking his way much more carefully behind you.

“Wait, love,” he whispered, just a step behind you. “What are you going to-”

You took a deep breath, then placed both hands flat against the door and shoved.

You found Alastair leaning over Gladys, her cheek cradled in his hand. She was sitting in Mickey’s chair, her eyes closed, but her mouth was drawn into a thin line, like she was trying hard not to cry.

Alastair lazily turned his head in your direction, as if annoyed that you’d interrupted him. His dark eyes switched over your face, the way he always did, like he was assessing you, calculating your worth. This was as a man who saw the world in percentages and figures; people were just another commodity. You should never have let him into your bakery.

“Ah, the cavalry,” he drawled, already turning back to Gladys.

Alastair didn’t remove his hand, not immediately. Not until he’d dragged one long, angular thumb across Gladys’ painted cheek.

Her shoulders tensed, her eyes still squeezed shut, as if trying to take herself away from him, to somewhere safer. Gladys was clutching a bundle of folded papers, her fingers wrapped so tight around them that the paper was starting to audibly crease and bend.

“Glad, you don’t ‘ave to let ‘im in,” you said quietly.

You didn’t take your eyes off Alastair as he finally drew back his hand and slipped it into his pocket.

“Actually, she does.”

He pulled out a familiar set of keys. They twinkled and shone in the low light of the kitchen.

Beside you, John tensed.

Gladys’ spare lipgloss, a piece of pink ribbon from a dress she kept telling herself she’d fix, her own spare house key, painted purple with nail varnish, they glinted from the keyring hanging carelessly from the tip of Alastair’s bony index finger.

“This is my building,” he said, swinging Gladys’ keys back into the pocket of his immaculate jacket. “I own the lock.”

“Righ’, exactly,” You glanced at Gladys, trying to gauge if she was alright. “You already ‘ave everythin’ you want, why can’t you just leave us alone?”

“Well, I came to see my best girl.”

Alastair smiled coldly down at Gladys, who finally opened her eyes. They shone with tears.

“We have lunch plans. Don’t we, darling?”

“You’re joking,” John scoffed. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

He was standing close behind you, his chest almost pressed against your shoulder blade. It felt good to know he was close by and just as angry as you. Keeping your eyes on Gladys, you reached back and gently took his hand, giving it a grateful squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” Alastair’s nose wrinkled as he looked John up and down. “Why is the delivery boy talking to me?”

John’s hand tightened in yours. You could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off him, but Gladys rose to her feet before either of you could speak.

She reached out a hand, as if to place it on Alastair’s arm, then seemed to think better of it.

For the first time, you thought about what it must be like for her. Forty-seven years old, a business owner for twenty-five of those, a valued member of her community, and beneath the veneer of her brightly coloured clothes and wild hair, quietly and incredibly lonely.

You, Mickey, and now John were all she had. If a handsome, rich, seemingly kind man like Alastair had come along and swept you off your feet, you probably would’ve fallen for it too.

And now it was all gone, and she was alone again. And worse than that, the man who’d broken Gladys’ heart had taken everything she’d built away too, her business, her little family.

You hadn’t spoken to her about it, not really. You’d been so wrapped up in your own selfish anger, you just hadn’t thought. But as Gladys rose up and levelled Alastair’s gaze, you couldn’t help being immensely proud of your boss.

“You should go, Alastair,” she said, quietly yet firmly. “And don’t come back again. We don’t want you ‘ere.”

Alastair seemed unbothered, though perhaps a little surprised. He chewed the inside of his cheek, as if debating whether he should try to sweet talk her round, one last deception, but eventually, he raised his smooth hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine. Fair enough. We’ve said everything we need to say, haven’t we, dear?”

He smiled wolfishly at Gladys.

She just stared at the centre of chest, unblinking, her mind probably a million miles away, somewhere better.

The bakery door swished open with a bright chime.

You looked round to see Mickey in the doorway. When he saw Alastair in the kitchen, his warm face immediately sank into anger and he stopped mid-stride, his palm still pressed against the glass in the door.

Mickey was a good half a foot taller than Alastair, and one of Mickey’s biceps was about the same size as his head. Worst of all, Alastair had upset Gladys, and you, and worried Mickey’s family. There wasn’t a safe place to stand.

Alastair seemed to realise this too. It was the first time you’d seen him look even remotely flustered.

“Well, you all have a lot to discuss. I’ll leave you to it. Have a good weekend, everyone.”

He squeezed Gladys’ shoulder, making John huff and your fists clench. Then he edged towards the door, ducking under Mickey’s enormous arm, and hurried around the road.

As soon as he was out of sight, Mickey let the door swing shut with a bang.

“What was that twat doing ‘ere?”

You ignored him, choosing instead to take Gladys’ hands. They felt cold in yours, like all the life had been drained from her just by being near to Alastair again.

“Gladys, what did ‘e say to you?”

“Nothin’, nothin’.” She sniffed and blinked away tears, turning her face to the ceiling. “He just came for the paperwork and to let me know that the builders will be in next week. And to drop off this.”

She chucked the stack of papers Alastair had given her onto the nearest counter, letting them spill out and flutter. Some even fell to the floor.

You watched Gladys, waiting for a ‘but’, waiting for her to say it was all going to be alright. Slowly, then all at once in a sickening rush, her words finally sank in.

“Next… Next week?”

You felt your stomach twist and knot, your throat so tight, you couldn’t speak. The kitchen seemed to darken at the corners.

This place that had been home to you, this place that had housed you, fed you, given you purpose, led you to your new family, to John, it was being pulled from your grasp and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

You looked back at Mickey.

For such a big man, he suddenly seemed like a lost little boy. How broad shoulders were low, his gaze fixed on the floor, his huge hands bunched at his sides. His second home had been taken from him too, the place that let him do the work he loved, the place that supported his wife and daughter, the two loves of his life.

Finally, you looked at John, only to find him already gazing at you.

You knew what 64 Oslo Square meant to him, what it had given him. The bakery had been an escape, from uni, from his lonely halls, from worrying where his next meal would be coming from. Oslo Square had been a warm embrace, a place to grow and learn, and a reminder that there was more to life than exams, dingy tube rides, and lugging a heavy bass guitar around.

His expression, as always, remained fairly impassive. But when you met his eyes, John softened, only a touch, but you caught it. He was just as heartbroken, and for once, logic and reason wouldn’t give him a distraction or a way out.

The ringing in your ears grew louder and louder as the kitchen began to spin around you, and all that really registered was the deep bass drum of your heart.

You were faintly aware of Gladys talking as tears streaked down her face, carving dark mascara lines into her bright pink cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, love.” She took your hand, then Mickey’s. “Both of you, I’m so sorry. I thought I’d be able to think of a way out of this but ‘e’s- ‘E’s got it all there in black and white, darlin’s .”

John’s sharp eyes fell to the papers Gladys had discarded on the counter.

“It’s alright,” Mickey tried to summon a smile as he squeezed Gladys’ hand. “Don’t upset yourself, love. C’mon, now. It’s alrigh’, Glad. We’ll be okay.”

“But what am I gonna do with myself? Eh? Without the shop I’m… I’m just a li’le old lady.”

Gladys brushed away her tears, smearing black smudges across the back of her hand.

From behind you, John held out a tissue he must’ve silently gone to grab.

Gladys took it gratefully.

“And you,” She patted Mickey’s broad chest. “You’ve got your family. And you, sweetheart, you’re-”

You looked back at John. He gave you the tiniest smile, so faint you barely caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t warm, it wasn’t soft, but it was full of promise, and when he nodded quickly, his hazy grey eyes switching nervously between yours and somewhere near your collar, you knew what he was trying to say.

“I’ll be okay, Glad,” you said, grabbing her another tissue.

“Oh,” Gladys sobbed. “And it’s nearly your birthday!”

You exhaled sharply, taken-aback.

“Well, that’s- That’s very sweet of you, Gladys, but that’s the least of me worries, right now.”

“It’s nearly your birthday?” John asked.

You nodded.

“At the end of the month.”

“You never told me.”

“Well, it didn’t seem very important, considering...”

“And it was gonna be such a special one, too,” Gladys wailed.

You frowned, glancing at Mickey for help.

“Was it?”

Gladys sighed as she dabbed at her eyes, pressing blue eyeshadow into the creases by her nose and right up to her painted eyebrows.

“I was gonna to surprise you. Well, I- It was always gonna be- It would’ve been for your birthday or for your anniversary here, whichever came first and now…”

You have a hollow laugh, hardly listening now.

“It’s fine, Gladys. Don’ worry.”

But John frowned

“What was?”

Gladys looked up.

“Hm?”

“What was the surprise?”

“Well, I went to the- Oh, what d’you call it? Henry sor’ed it for me a few months ago.”

“Henry?”

“Her uncle,” Mickey put in helpfully. “He’s a lawyer.”

“Really?”

“Well, not legally, I s’pose.”

“Anyway, he sorted it with Companies House and…” Gladys sighed again and sank back down into Mickey’s chair, her hands folded and shaking slightly in her lap. “I’m sorry, love. I had him add your name to the deed. I thought it would be a nice present. Wan’ed to show my appreciation for all your ‘ard work over the years, y’know.”

Silence fell in the kitchen. All eyes turned to you.

“You added…”

You tried to speak but found you couldn’t actually say the words out loud.

Mickey looked gobsmacked, like he too couldn’t believe what he’d heard. You’d worked together for years, he’d heard you harping on about your dream for longer than he’d known his own wife, about how you would own 64 Oslo Square one day and how wonderful it would feel, to be your own boss, to be in control for once in your life, to make decisions and create something that you and your community could be proud of.

You glanced sideways at John. Beside you, always right beside you. He never gave much away, not when it wasn’t just you and him, so his expression remained flat. But there, there in the outer corners of his eyes, in the slightest dip of his eyebrows, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, you knew he was thinking exactly what you were.

How cruel. How cruel to give you what you’d always wanted, but give it too late. How cruel to give only to take away again.

“When did this happen?” John asked, ever the pragmatist, needing all the information before making a decision.

“Oh,” Gladys flapped an airy hand, not seeming to realise the gravity of her news. “Months ago. Who can keep track of that sort of- Before you started ‘ere, New Boy. At least.”

“So,” John looked at you, his eyebrows pushed together. “You’re part-owner?”

You opened your mouth to respond but Gladys grabbed your hand.

“You’ve just always been so wonderful and this place is practically half yours anyway, I thought, y’know, in a couple of years, I could retire and you could take over. It’s always been the plan.”

“Oh, Glad…” You forced a smile though it barely touched your eyes. “That’s really sweet of you.”

John pointed at the papers Gladys had carelessly discarded on the counter.

“Is that the contract you signed with Alastair?”

You frowned at him in consternation but his expression gave nothing away.

Gladys had barely begun to nod when John grabbed for the papers, gathering them up in his hands almost frantically. He scanned the pages, his clever eyes rapidly darting back and forth.

“Look, it doesn’t ma’er now,” Mickey said gently. “We’re not just gonna let you fade away, Glad, I promise. When I find a new job, I’ll see if they’ve got something for you too, eh? We’ll look after you. I promise. Won’t we, Captain?”

The idea stunned you even more than Mickey’s optimism, but Gladys looked up at you so helplessly, you couldn’t find it in you to be realistic with them.

“‘Course,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’ll sort somethin’ out.”

“She could always move in with you.”

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Mickey smiled genuinely for the first time that day. Beside him, still wiping away tears and trying her best to catch her breath, Gladys was starting to smile too.

“You mean you don’t want me kippin’ on your sofa?”

“I don’t even have a flat!”

“I thought you was movin’ in with ‘andsome over there.”

“I haven’t decided y- ‘Ang on, how do you know about that?”

“Walls ‘ave ears.”

“You two, I swear to-”

“He doesn’t have it.”

You all stopped bickering. One by one, you looked round to find John still staring at the contract.

His gaze was still, his lips slightly parted. His fingers were tight around the paper, just as Gladys’ had been, like he was terrified someone might take them from him.

“He-” You blinked, trying to figure out what he meant, but nothing sparked. “What?”

Finally, John raised his head.

“He doesn’t have the bakery,” he said slowly, steadily, as if he could hardly believe it himself. “Skip, you’re part-owner. Gladys put your name on the deed. She signed this contract but you didn’t. He doesn’t have anything, this is-”

For the first time in weeks, you heart began to beat again.

“Worthless,” you whispered.

John raised the papers for you to see but couldn’t take your eyes off him. If you looked, it meant everything would change, and you weren’t sure if you could take any more life-altering news.

Either he was wrong, and your broken heart would only grow heavier. Or John was right, and the world would be turned on its axis yet again. It was safer just to keep looking at John, keep your eyes fixed on his, and find your answer there.

“Wait,” Mickey shook his head, stunned. “So you’re sayin’-”

“I’m saying 64 Oslo Square is yours, Skip.” John pushed the contract firmly into your waiting hands. “Not Alastair’s.”

There was a pause, just a beat of silence, and then the bakery erupted.

Gladys shrieked as she leapt up from her chair, pumping her two fists above her head, like her team had just scored before the final whistle. She practically fell into you as she threw her arms around your neck in a hug tight enough to bruise.

Mickey grabbed John by the waist and heaved him up over his shoulder, hollering at the top of his lungs.

“Oh, you beauty!”

John gripped Mickey’s broad shoulders as they span around and around.

“Well, hang on. You’ll need a lawyer to confirm-”

“Oh, shu’ up, New Boy. You’re a fuckin’ diamond!”

You clapped your hand over your mouth as you watched the boys but your smile was far too wide to cover. You realised you were laughing with Gladys, with Mickey, laughing so loudly and jubilantly that you were sure passersby would be able to hear you outside on the road.

When Mickey finally put John down, he staggered in his heels, his head probably spinning, but you reached out and caught his hand before he could trip.

John beamed as you pulled him into you, his eyes bright and shining.

“I thought I might kiss you,” you said, just loud enough for John to hear.

His expression hardly changed. He just smiled at you, warm and gentle, but his eyes were alight. John inclined his head, his long hair falling around his face as he let you pull him in even closer.

“Yes, please,” he said softly, his smile growing wider.

“You proper little-” Gladys stuck her hands between you and grabbed John’s face, pulling him towards her instead. “Bobby-dazzler!”

Pulling him down to her height, Gladys peppered John’s face in kisses, leaving his cheeks stained with pink lipstick. She was so much shorter than him, John was practically bent in half, his face all screwed up as she pressed kiss after noisy kiss to his skin.

“Looks like Gladys has taken care of that for me,” you laughed.

John managed to shoot you a crooked grin before Gladys held him at arm’s length again.

“You,” she practically squeaked. “You are getting a pay-rise, New Boy. And another kiss, c’mere.”

Gladys pulled him down again, kissing all over his face while John laughed softly and let her.

Finally, when she had released him and John could breathe again, Gladys threw her arms around you, then Mickey.

“C’mon, pub,” she said. “I’m buyin’ everyone a drink and I’m not takin’ no for an answer.”

Her words washed over you like water on the shore. You were faintly aware of your family talking, still giggling and clutching each other tightly as they moved to the door, but you couldn’t focus properly.

Heart still thrumming in your chest, you couldn’t figure out how to make your mouth move. You wanted to call out to the others, to laugh, to cry, anything, but you felt numb in the very best way.

It was yours. 64 Oslo Square was yours.

When you finally managed to get your tongue working again, you leaned your body against the doorframe, catching the door with your foot so that you could lean out and say,

“You lot go on ahead. I’ll catch up in a minute.”

Mickey and Gladys hardly seemed to hear you. They were practically skipping down the road, singing an old drinking song as they swayed in the direction of The Gardener’s Arms.

Only John hesitated. He looked like he might protest but seemed to understand what you meant. Against the late afternoon sun, he seemed to glow as he glanced back over his shoulder. Finally, he gave you a small smile, then followed after the others.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you stood in the centre of the shop floor, waiting for the door to close behind you. The July heat didn’t seem quite so harsh anymore. In fact, everything seemed to have shifted slightly. The world was as it was, as it had always been, but the lead-like weight in your chest and on your shoulders was gone. You hadn’t felt so light in years.

Slowly, you turned on the spot, taking in what was now all yours.

The dark wooden shelves lined with tins and jars, bags of coffee, and photos of Gladys’ proud parents. The pinboard on the far wall, the step you tripped over every morning, the till that tried to bite your fingers every time it closed. The counter painted bright scarlet, just like the writing over the door, a door enrobed in bright summer flowers, lighting up the whole road. All yours.

Slipping your hands round to rest on your hips, you walked into the kitchen.

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the sight of the familiar, bottle-green stove. It seemed to smile back at you. The whole kitchen did. Battered old pots and pans, mosaic tiles that remembered the Blitz, the bins out the back. It was all so ordinary, all so completely conventional and prosaic.

You pulled in a long breath, filling up your lungs until you felt your chest rise. Yours.

The bakery’s front door opened with a bright chime. You heard quick footsteps cross the wooden floor, unfaltering, sure of their destination. With no one around, they echoed so unnaturally, it set your heart on edge.

You turned, smiling, and felt two hands slip around your jaw to cup your face, then John was kissing you. You knew it would be him. He’d promised you. John always kept his promises.

Your chest lurched as you pressed your palms against the backs of his hands, keeping them against your cheeks as his mouth moved against yours. A sob sat in your throat, half relief, half joy. You knew if you pulled away it would rise up, so you pressed closer, keeping your mouth against John’s.

He groaned softly against your lips, the sound starting in his throat and ending up in yours, and all the while he kissed you so sweetly, you could hardly believe you weren’t dreaming.

You grabbed handfuls of John’s shirt, keeping his narrow little body pressed tight against yours until you could almost feel his heart thumping against your chest. His hands slipped up into your hair, sending shivers over your skin as his blunt nails grazed your skin, then travelled down your back to your waist, where they found a home and squeezed softly.

It was simple, sweet, and when he pulled back to catch his breath, you could feel John’s hands were shaking slightly.

You half expected him to look worried, like he always did, so anxious and cautious, he could barely move a muscle. But there was no fear in John’s eyes. There was vulnerability and uncertainty, but only about what to do next, not of his actions, not about you.

“Oh, New Boy.” You smiled, lips tingling from the force of his kisses. “I said you’d be good for business, didn’t I.”

When John smiled back, something warm writhed in the pit of your belly. This stupid, lovely, gorgeous boy.

“Anything for you, love,” John said softly as he reached up and tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “You know me. Always anything for you.”

The next thing you knew, you had him pinned against the kitchen counter. He gasped sharply as the metal dug into his hip, but you were kissing him again before he had a chance to speak.

John’s hips fit so perfectly in your hands, you were sure he must’ve been made for you. His chest was warm and firm against yours as you leaned your body into his, and when one of his slim legs slipped between yours, you smiled, dragging your lips around the outline of his mouth.

“Easy, honey…”

John felt all the air squeeze from his lungs, his belly clenching. The edge of the counter was digging into his back, the metal cold even through his clothes, but he couldn’t care less. In fact, he liked it, liked how you kept him pinned against it, how little force you needed to get his body to comply, how your fingertips pressed into the tops of his thighs as you kissed him and kissed him.

You angled your head, catching his bottom lip with a playful flick of your tongue, and sucked, gently first, testing the waters, then again, harder.

John whimpered against your mouth as you kept him in his place but he never once made an attempt to move. In fact, his big hands slipped around your waist, holding your body against his, and when you pushed your knee between his thighs, you were certain you felt his hips rock towards yours.

He kissed like he needed it, needed you, like he’d been longing for this for a lifetime and could finally breathe. It had been a long, patient wait, but you were glad of it. Feeling John moan softly against your mouth, his needy hands grabbing at you, the culmination of months of craving, aching, hungry love, it was unlike anything you’d ever known, and when he pressed even closer, until his nose was crammed against your cheek and you couldn’t tell where you ended and John began, you knew he felt it too.

John whined pitifully when you finally pulled away. You hadn’t expected him to be quite so vocal but it made your chest heave.

John blinked down at you, panting, dizzy. Your face was flushed, and when his eyes dropped down to watch your tongue swipe his taste off your lips, his knees nearly gave out. His breath caught in his throat when he realised he could still feel you smiling against his mouth.

You were torn in several different directions. Mickey and Gladys would be expecting you in the pub. There were countless boxes, all waiting to be unpacked, sat upstairs for you. The cake batter you’d been about to bake still sat, abandoned, on the side, and you had a nice boy to kiss and kiss and kiss. The choice as easy.

Grinning, you took John’s hand and pulled him in the direction of the stairs.

“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse.

You pulled open the door up to your flat and shot him a bright smile.

“Dancin’.”

Master List

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chaosofmanyfandoms · 8 months ago

Text

In the Event of My Demise | Ralvez

not my gif

Title inspo- In the Event of my Demise - Jake Bugg

A/N - this is for @imagining-in-the-margins Comfort Challenge. Thank you to the wonderful @tobias-hankel for being my beta! Set post 13.6 The Bunker. Includes references to 12.22 Red Light. I wrote this in a like a day, but I don’t hate it so, yeah.

Summary - months after his release from prison, Spencer Reid still hasn’t allowed himself to deal with the residual trauma of what happened to him. When a local case triggers his inevitable breakdown, Luke Alvez must pull Spencer back from the brink or risk losing him to his demons forever.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Luke Alvez (platonic ish)

Category - hurt / comfort | angst | hopeful ending

Content Warnings - Mentions of prison arc, Cat Adams and Lindsey Vaughn and Mr Scratch, talk of PTSD, therapy, swearing, mental breakdowns, possible psychotic breaks, small mention of blood, mentions of sexual assault (as per canon), talk of being drugged, Spencer losing his grip on reality, tears, a broken man just needing a hug, hidden feelings.

WC - 7.6k

Profiling hadn’t come naturally to Luke Alvez. As a former army ranger turned fugitive task force agent it wasn’t something he’d ever had to be versed in. He was a man hunter, he didn’t read human behaviour the way the rest of the BAU did every single day. Picking up on little nuances and tiny changes in a person's tone of voice or posture wasn’t something that came easily to him.

Luke was used to being more hands on. The physical aspect of the job was no issue for him whatsoever. He could chase down an unsub no problem. In all honesty he could run circles around most of his team, with the exception of Simmons anyway. But Matt’s background in the IRT meant he had a better grasp on profiling and despite joining the team later than Luke, seemed to be flourishing in this environment.

But Luke was no quitter and he refused to be average at anything he did. So he studied, he read every book he could get his hands on about profiling and human behaviour so Hotch didn’t change his mind about hiring him. And progressively his skills were improving and he started to finally feel like a valid member of the team.

Still he was a novice in comparison to the rest of the BAU, which was why it was so odd for him to be the only one who seemed to notice that one of their own was struggling.

It made perfect sense. After what he’d been through of course he would be. But in the aftermath of the whole Scratch debacle, the youngest team members' issues seemed to get swept under the rug. But Luke noticed. Luke couldn’t help but notice.

If Luke was completely honest with himself he’d done nothing but notice Doctor Spencer Reid since the first day they met, over case files about the Crimson King. Luke was instantly enthralled by the young genius, fascinated by the way he seemed to know something about everything. And his beautiful golden eyes certainly didn’t help matters either.

He could probably attribute a lot of his newfound profiling skills to his observations of Spencer. He noted and catalogued every facial expression, every verbal and non verbal tick of the captivating man. After only a few months Luke could have written the Idiots Guide to Spencer Reid. He consumed everything pertaining to him without even really meaning to. So maybe that was why he saw through Spencer’s attempts to pretend he was just fine that everyone else seemed to buy.

They’d just finished up on a local case working with the Richmond Field Office, in which several women had been abducted over the past five years. It came to a head when Spencer and JJ were following up on a lead that landed them trapped in the unsubs underground bunker.

“Oh boy wonder!” Garcia gasped the second the elevator doors creaked open and Spencer’s frame was revealed inside the metal shaft. How long she’d been standing there, awaiting his return, was anybody's guess. “Are you ok? That must have been horrible for you.”

She’d already give JJ the once over, ensuring her friend had come out of that situation unscathed. But Spencer she was more concerned about. Being trapped in an enclosed space like that after his time in prison had to have been a living nightmare for him.

Spencer shuffled out of the elevator, avoiding eye contact with the bubbly blonde and willing to just be left alone. As soon as he was close enough, Penelope gripped him by the shoulders, trying to force him to make eye contact.

“I’m fine, seriously. Please stop fussing over me.” Spencer shook off Garcia’s attempts to coddle him.

“But after what you’ve been through…gosh it must have been so scary.” She ignored him trying to step away and threw her arms around the touch averse genius, despite him attempting to wriggle free.

“It would have been scary for anyone, Garcia.” He kept his arms at his sides while Garcia practically hugged the air from his lungs.

Luke watched on from just inside the glass double doors. He could see the discomfort in Spencer’s eyes that he kept focused on the ground, could sense the fact that the younger man just wanted to be left alone. Garcia on the other hand clearly missed these signals.

“Stop trying to act brave.” She mumbled against his shoulder.

“No one’s acting, Garcia. I’m fine. Please can we…” he raised his arms now and placed a hand on each of her biceps.

Luke continued to watch as Spencer gently guided the tech analyst off of him, peeling her away from his body and taking a few steps back from her.

Garcia’s eyes were wide with sadness as she looked at Spencer and once again, Spencer averted his gaze.

“No one would think any less of you if you were affected by this, Spence.” She whispered, Luke had to strain himself to hear her.

He noticed Spencer’s shoulder stiffen, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides while he kept up his stare off with the floor.

“Good to know.” He nodded, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth the way Luke knew he did when he was uncomfortable. “Can I use the bathroom now?”

“Oh,” Garcia nodded, stepping back from Spencer’s path. “Of course! Sorry to keep you.”

Spencer didn’t reply, simply offered her a small shake of his head before he hurried past her down the corridor.

That had been close to an hour ago now. The rest of the team had called it a night but Luke remained alone in the office. Spencer’s jacket and satchel hung on the back of his chair so he knew the younger man wouldn’t have left and Luke couldn’t bring himself to leave while Spencer was still here.

He spent the better part of a half hour trying to talk himself into checking on Spencer. He didn’t want to overstep the mark, he’d seen the way in which he’d shot Garcia down when she tried to talk to him and could only assume he would meet a similar fate. Maybe he could just let Spencer know he was here, that he could talk to him if he needed someone. Spencer would no doubt reject him, but at least Luke might be able to sleep a little easier at night knowing he’d tried.

Either way Luke knew he wasn’t going to leave before he saw Spencer, so no matter how long this internal debate went on, it was always going to end the same. So he swallowed his nerves and forced himself down to the men’s bathroom.

***

Spencer Reid was incredibly adept at compartmentalisation. It was something that came part and parcel of being an FBI Agent for so many years.

Frequently it was required to put his own feelings aside, separate the personal from the professional. He was so well versed in it, it came as second nature at this point.

But there was never more need for this skill after his release from Milburn.

When JJ had led him out of the prison gates and he’d seen Penelope standing there, eyes glossy with tears, he’d had to force back his own. He’d fallen into her arms, relishing in the feeling of being out, in the arms of one of his best friends and he’d almost crumbled.

But he couldn’t. Not yet.

His mom was still missing and if he had any chance of finding her he had to face off with Cat Adams again first. And to do that, he had to be in control of his emotions.

He pigeonholed his feelings, putting a little pin in them for the time being. If he showed Cat any sign of weakness, no matter how small, his mother was as good as dead.

And then once they found his mom alive and well, he’d almost allowed himself to succumb to all those emotions he’d bottled up in the past three months. Almost. But then he’d had to put his breakdown on hold again when Scratch kidnapped Emily.

He barely held it together during that case, one he wasn’t even supposed to be working as he wasn’t technically reinstated. Throwing books at walls and scaring the living daylights out of Garcia certainly wasn’t the signs of a healthy, well adjusted man. Luke had confronted him when he couldn’t stop pressing his palms into his eye sockets, trying to make him feel better with his talks of PTSS. And maybe it worked for a short while. It helped at the very least to get Spencer through until Emily was found.

Once she was back and safe he expected himself to crumble. But then he was mandated therapy and had to go through the whole rigmarole of being perceived to be capable enough to be reinstated. So once again his breakdown had to be put on the backburner just long enough for his therapist to deem him stable enough to return to work. And once that happened he was working back to back cases, teaching whenever he wasn’t at the BAU and his demise fell by the wayside.

He didn’t have a second to stop and let himself fragment, and maybe in part, that was intentional. Maybe he’d deliberately kept himself busy to stop himself from reliving the three months he spent in prison so as to protect himself. Because Spencer knew that once he gave in, once he allowed himself to deal with the full weight of what he’d been through, he’d never come back from it.

He didn’t exactly know why today was the day he’d spiralled. Arguably being in that bunker, trapped in a confined space once again was clearly the trigger. He knew it wouldn’t take much to push him over the ledge he’d been straddling since his arrest. And now the straw had broken the proverbial camel's back and Spencer had snapped, spiralling into the abyss he’d been narrowly avoiding since he’d been released and he was sure there would be no recovering from this.

He’d excused himself to use the bathroom but time had ceased to exist since then. He could have been gone five minutes or five days for all he knew. He’d made it into the bathroom, to the sink and the mirror hanging above it. But he hadn’t seen his own reflection staring back at him; Cat Adams was staring back at him. She smirked at him before she started laughing maniacally, chiding him about what a fucking mess she’d made of him and his life.

Oh Spencie, I really did ruin you didn’t I? You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you like this. Broken. Destroyed. I took everything from you and I loved every minute of it.

Her sick and twisted voice sounded out around him and when he blocked his ears with his hands her voice only got louder. Her laughter grew more menacing, her image swarming his brain even when he closed his eyes. He stumbled backwards from the mirror and collapsed on the floor, hands still pressed firmly against his ears and eyes screwed tightly shut, mumbling under his breath.

Go away! Leave me alone, you bitch! You don’t get to win, I won’t let you beat me!

And that was how Luke found him.

Seeing his friend on the bathroom floor, muttering and rocking and back and forth had all the makings of a psychotic break. Luke had never had to deal with someone in a situation like this. Was it similar to sleepwalking? Would it be dangerous to try and snap Spencer out of his state? It was only when he noticed the blood that his rational thinking flew out of the window and he darted to Spencer’s side.

“Reid? Oh my god, Reid are you ok?” He threw himself on the floor next to Spencer, quickly finding the source of the blood.

His knuckles were shredded and judging by the broken glass shards littered around him, Luke thought it was a pretty safe bet that Spencer had punched the mirror.

“Reid? Can you hear me, man?” He pried Spencer’s right hand away from his ear and inspected the wound. It was still bleeding but it looked as though there was thankfully no glass in his knuckles.

“Leave me alone you bitch!” Spencer screamed, banging his head back against the tiled wall. “Just leave me alone!”

“Reid, it’s Luke. Spencer? It’s just me. Can you look at me?” He used his free hand to cup Spencer’s jaw, hoping the contact would make Spencer open his eyes.

It did. But Luke almost wished he hadn’t.

Spencer’s usually animated and beautiful eyes were void of any kind of emotion. He was looking right at Luke but he could tell Spencer couldn’t see him.

“Please. I just want to forget.” He mumbled now, lip quivering.

“Spencer, who are you talking to?” Luke was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that but he asked it all the same.

Spencer’s pupils dilated before shrinking again a few times as if he was trying to adjust to the face in front of him. Blood was dripping from his knuckles onto Luke’s hand but he barely noticed.

“Spencer?” Luke tried again. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Spencer’s eyes glazed over and his head rolled back against the wall. When he spoke it was only one word but it haunted Luke to his core.

“C-Cat.” He mumbled and then his entire body went limp and his eyes fell closed. His body seemed to crumble but thankfully Luke’s reaction times were faster and he managed to hold his arms out for Spencer to fall into, his head crashing against Luke’s chest as opposed to the hard floor.

***

“Leave me alone you bitch!”

“Spencie, it’s only me. Spencer? It’s just me. Can you look at me?”

“Please. I just want to forget.”

“Spencie, who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

“C-Cat.”

The next thing Spencer was conscious of was the sound of an engine idling. With his eyes closed he imagined himself behind the wheel of that truck, hauling ass through the Mexican desert in his pursuit of Lindsey Vaughn. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times as the light from an overhead street lamp flooded his retinas.

The vibrations from the vehicle rumbled through his legs and up his spine and aided in bringing him back down to earth. He felt a presence next to him and he slowly turned his head to the side. He held his breath, genuinely afraid he would meet the eyes of the woman who had ruined his life. But it wasn’t the evil hit woman he found looking back at him from the driver's seat. He breathed a sigh of relief as he met the other man’s gaze.

“Luke,” he whispered, nodding his head a little. “Hi.”

“You have no idea how good it is to hear you say my name.” Luke’s lip twitched into a smile but his eyes were sad.

“Where are we?” Spencer ignored the confusion that swelled in his brain at Luke’s words and tried to focus on something smaller.

“In my car. Outside your apartment.”

Spencer frowned, glancing away from Luke and out of the passenger’s window. He cast his eyes up at the familiar building they were parked in front of.

“Right. Ok.” He nodded but his confusion was written on his face.

It was then he noticed a pain in his right hand and he looked down to where it was cradled in his lap to see a thick bandage around his knuckles. Spencer’s head was spinning. He had so many questions that were fighting for first place that it quickly induced a throbbing in his temples.

He raised his hands to the sides of his head and dug his fingers into his skin, massaging the offending areas.

“Are you ok?” Luke sounded panic stricken all of a sudden and he reached across the centre console and placed his hand on Spencer’s knee.

“Hmm.” Spencer mumbled. “Just…a lot of things going on in my head.”

“You never let yourself deal with what happened to you in prison.” Luke removed his hand and sat back in his seat.

Spencer didn’t reply, just continued to knead his temples furiously.

“Let me help you inside.” Luke unfastened his seatbelt and opened the car door.

Spencer hadn’t moved by the time he rounded the vehicle and opened his own door. It took him a few more seconds to snap back and he lowered his hands so he could undo his seatbelt.

He swung his legs out of the car and they shook a little when he stood. He used the door to steady himself for a moment before he trusted himself to move. Luke hovered behind him as he walked, scared the man might collapse but thankfully he made it to the door. Luke followed him inside, carrying his bag and jacket he’d taken from Spencer’s desk.

He stayed close behind Spencer as he took to the stairs and watched as he fumbled a little unlocking his front door, clearly still not fully with it. It could take a while for him to come back completely. If he ever did. Luke’s main priority became making sure that didn’t happen.

Spencer let him inside and if he realised the state or his apartment, he didn’t show it. While he kicked off his converse and hung up his blazer, Luke surveyed the chaos of Spencer’s usually perfectly tidy home. He’d only ever been yhere a handful of times, mostly when Spencer was incarcerated and Luke would accompany JJ or Garcia to visit Spencer’s mom. It had struck him each time how pristine the apartment was. Everything seemed to have a place, not a single book was out of line. And right now it was barely recognisable as Spencer’s home.

He imagined the state of the apartment reflected the state of Spencer’s mind. Books had been ripped from their places on the shelves and tossed haphazardly across the room, some pages even having been torn from their spines as if Spencer had been searching for some kind of answer within those books. Dirty mugs and plates littered his desk and coffee table. A bottle of red wine had spilt and soaked into the rug next to the couch. Case files and pieces of paper were strewn around the room but Spencer didn’t seem to notice.

Luke watched him head across the room, expertly stepping over the debris in a path he’d memorised in his head. He bypassed the couch and strolled straight into his bedroom, seemingly forgetting Luke was with him.

“I’m gonna uh…put the kettle on.” Luke called after him but he received no response.

Sighing to himself, Luke carefully stepped around the destruction on route to the kitchen. He found that room in much the same state of disarray. Cupboards were left open, the sink was full to bursting with dirty dishes, coffee powder and sugar granules coated much of the counter. There were no clean mugs so after he filled the kettle and set it to boil he started on some of Spencer’s washing up.

He got about half way through the pile by the time it boiled and left the dishes to dry on the draining rack. He fixed Spencer a coffee, with slightly less sugar than the genius usually took, Luke thought he was probably on edge enough. He carried the coffee through the living room, dodging book detritus on his way.

Spencer’s bedroom door was open so Luke didn’t knock, he shuffled his way inside to find it much like the other rooms in the apartment, this one was also trashed. His bed was unmade, the sheet untucked from one corner and peeling back from the mattress while the duvet sat crumpled at the end. It seemed as though he’d emptied the entirety of his closet across his bedroom floor and items of clothing lay creased in piles all over the place.

The only thing not in Spencer’s bedroom was Spencer.

Luke placed the coffee mug on the bureau in the corner as he picked up on the sound he’d missed when he entered the room. He frowned as he looked towards the door at the far side, presumably leading to the bathroom. The shower was running. That was a good sign, right?

Wrong.

“Reid, you ok in there?” Luke shuffled towards the door that had been left cracked an inch.

Spencer didn’t reply, all that could be heard was the sound of the water from the shower head.

“Spencer? Talk to me, man.” He was right by the door now, one hand flush on the wood.

Once again he got no response. The last thing Luke wanted to do was walk in on Spencer in the shower. Well, not the last thing. It wasn’t as though Luke had never imagined sharing a shower with the eccentric and beautiful genius, it just hadn’t been under these particular circumstances. He edged the door open slightly, not daring to step in just yet, not unless he felt he had to.

“Spencer? Please answer me.” He tried again but once again he was met by silence.

He had two options. One, he waited it out, hoped that eventually Spencer would come out of the bathroom and Luke wouldn’t have to invade his privacy. Or secondly, he could go and check on Spencer only to find the man was probably just showering off a long day. But something in his gut was telling him that Spencer wasn’t simply showering. He knew what he had to do. With a sigh, Luke pushed open the bathroom door and stepped inside.

***

“I’m gonna uh…put the kettle on.”

Spencer registered Luke’s voice from the other room but he didn’t process his words. Stepping into his bedroom and once again catching the woman glaring at him from the mirror over the bureau, he was lost to his own world.

Ask me how I did it. Come on, ask me.

How did you do it?

I had Lindsey dose you in Mexico. You lost time. And I gave her very specific instructions to get you in the mood.

You’re lying. That didn’t happen.

Why would I lie to you, Spencie? I’m many things, but a liar isn’t one of them.

He spun away from the mirror, rage pulsing through every one of his veins. She had to be lying, she couldn’t have done that to him. Even by Cat’s standards that had to be too far.

But what if she wasn’t lying? He was missing such a large chunk of time from that Mexican hotel, he would probably never be able to piece together what had happened to him. Cat’s baby may not be his, but that’s not to say Lindsey hadn’t assaulted him while he’d been drugged.

No. It’s not true. Even you wouldn’t stoop so low.

I wanted to hurt you worse than you’ve been before. I’d stop at nothing to destroy you, Spencer.

“No, no. Couldn’t have happened. Wouldn’t have happened.” He started to pace, ignoring the discarded clothing on the floor.

His skin started to itch and he felt unfathomably dirty all of a sudden. He unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and forced his sleeve up to his elbow, scratching the skin of his forearm to relieve some tension. It didn’t work. He felt like his skin was boiling, like it might melt off of his body. He wasn’t clean. If what Cat said was true he might never be clean again.

“Dirty. Dirty. I’m unclean. I’m filthy.” His feet led him to the bathroom without realising where he was going.

Once in the bathroom he turned on the shower and without bothering to get undressed he climbed into the tub and sat under the flow of water. It cascaded around him, soaking through his shirt and slacks in no time at all. He pulled his legs to his chest and hugged his knees.

“Unclean. I’m so unclean.” He mumbled against the sodden fabric of his pants.

He kept muttering to himself, hoping the water would cleanse of him whatever Lindsey did or didn’t do to him in Mexico. He was so caught up in his battle with the voices in his head he forgot Luke’s presence in his apartment and didn’t hear him calling for him. He didn’t hear the door creak open or the footsteps on the linoleum floor.

When Luke pulled back the shower curtain, he covered his eyes with one hand, not wanting to deliberately see Spencer naked in the shower although at any other point in time he would be ok with that outcome. He peaked out between his fingers and found Spencer on the floor of the tub, wet clothes clinging to his frame that appeared so small and fragile as he hugged his legs tightly.

“I’m unclean.” He spoke, his voice monotone. But Luke knew it wasn’t him he was speaking to.

Luke felt his heart practically shatter in his chest. It was worse than he thought. So much worse. He wasn’t sure he could handle this on his own. But who would he call? He had to try and step up for Spencer.

“Spence, buddy. Can you hear me?”

Spencer stopped mumbling all of a sudden and his eyes shot up to Luke. For the second time that day Luke saw the lack of recognition in his friend's eyes.

“Spencer, it’s me, Luke. Luke Alvez.” He reached out and switched off the faucet and the water from the shower ceased to fall.

Spencer resembled a frightened newborn animal, thrust into the world without a clue as to where they came from. His wet hair fell in his eyes and his white shirt was all but see through. His fingers drummed against his shin and he rocked a little in the tub.

“Am I…am I clean?” He asked, bottom lip quivering ever so slightly.

“Yeah man,” Luke sniffed back his anguish. “You’re all clean. Let’s get you dried off.”

Luke had seen the tapes of the interrogation of Cat Adams after Spencer’s release. He knew what Cat had told him, that she’d had Lindsey sexually assault him while he was under the influence, and it was clear to him that’s what this had to be about.

If she really did that to him I’ll kill her with my bare hands. Both of them. If he doesn’t come back from this I’ll kill them too.

Spencer let Luke help him to his feet and out of the tub with little to no protest. He stood in the bathroom, clothes dripping all over the floor but Spencer neither noticed or cared.

Luke grabbed a towel off of the rail and turned back to Spencer who was staring at the wall, unmoving. He couldn’t let Spencer stay in these wet clothes, he had to undress him.

This is so not how I pictured this happening.

“Spencer, you with me?” Luke asked, standing in his line of sight.

Spencer didn’t speak, but he nodded his head a little.

“Ok, good. I’m gonna have to get you out of these clothes ok?”

Again Spencer simply nodded in reply.

Luke sighed as he stepped forward and brought his slightly shaking hands up to the top button of Spencer’s shirt. He started slowly popping the buttons, peeling the wet fabric away from Spencer’s skin, untucking it from his pants and finally discarding it on the edge of the bath.

His bandage on his knuckles was sodden, Luke would have to find a first aid kit and redress his wound. But one problem at a time.

He wrapped the towel around Spencer’s shoulders, keeping his eyes averted and not letting himself look at Spencer’s exposed torso for longer than necessary. He wanted to look, but it would feel like taking advantage of him. Spencer was more vulnerable than he’d ever been and Luke wasn’t abusing his trust.

Once the towel was secured around his shoulders, Spencer surprised him by raising his arms and gripping the edge of the downy fabric, keeping it tightly around himself. Luke smiled a little to himself, it was at least some kind of progress.

“Can you hear me, Spencer? I’m going to need to hear your voice.”

Spencer blinked a few times, still nodding his head. But then he opened his mouth.

“Yes.” He croaked out. “Yes I can hear you, Luke.”

Luke had never been so happy to hear his name. He offered Spencer a weak smile in return.

“Thank you.” He swallowed. “Do you think you can get your pants off while I find you some dry clothes?”

Spencer narrowed his eyes, clearly trying to process what Luke was saying. He blinked several more times in quick succession.

“Y-yes.” He nodded again. “Yes. I t-think I can do that.”

“Good. Great.” Luke encouraged him. “I’ll grab you some clothes, I’ll be right back ok?”

Spencer nodded, looking down at his lower body as Luke left the room. For some unbeknownst reason, it seemed like an impossible feat ahead of him, more like scaling Mount Everest than the simple act of undressing. Spencer found a lot recently that the usually most effortless of tasks posed themselves as some of the biggest obstacles. Cleaning dirty dishes. Doing laundry. Putting a book away. They’d become mammoth undertakings that he saw as impossible to achieve.

But Luke was here now. Luke was here and Cat wasn’t. He had to keep reminding himself of that. And Luke had asked him to do this simple task, he could do it for him.

Just focus. Unbutton the pants. Take them off. It’s not that hard.

Luke surveyed the scattered clothes on the bedroom floor, trying to spot something comfortable for Spencer to wear. He rummaged around for a while until he found an old pair of checked pyjama pants and a CalTech t-shirt. They weren’t necessarily clean, but they would have to do for now.

“Spencer?” He called through to the bathroom. “Can I come in?”

“Hmm.” Was all the response he received.

Unsure if that meant Spencer was decent or not, he cautiously entered the bathroom again. Spencer’s pants were in a pile on the floor and he dared look at the man, breathing a sigh of relief to see he had the towel wrapped around his waist. He was staring off at the wall, in some kind of trance once again.

The speed in which Spencer was slipping in and out of the world around him was terrifying. Luke really was in over his head here, he didn’t have experience with this kind of psychosis, if that’s what this was. Maybe it was just extreme exhaustion coupled with extreme trauma. Either way, Luke was not equipped to deal with whatever Spencer was going through. But he wasn’t about to stop trying.

“Can you get dressed?” He proffered the clothes towards Spencer but the other man didn’t move.

With a sigh Luke moved closer to him, and when Spencer didn’t show any signs of noticing him, he slipped the shirt over his head. Spencer’s limbs were like a rag doll as Luke worked on getting his arms in the sleeves and Spencer did nothing to help. He smoothed it down so it was covering Spencer’s torso and tried to not dwell on how fucking weird this was.

Getting his pants on was going to be a little more difficult. And potentially awkward. Luke kneeled down in front of Spencer, wrapping his hand gently around Spencer’s left ankle and guiding it into one leg of the pants. He repeated the movement with the other leg, all the while Spencer stood frozen.

Standing up and taking the sides of the pants, he pulled them up with him, over Spencer’s calves and thighs until he reached the towel. Luke looked up at the ceiling as he pulled the garment up under the towel, trying to save as much of Spencer’s dignity as he could. Once he had them secured around Spencer’s hips, he got rid of the towel for the younger man.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” Luke looked at the sopping bandage.

Spencer’s eyes dilated like they had earlier before shrinking again, like he was trying to focus on something but Luke wasn’t sure what. He didn’t get any other kind of communication from him. Luke sighed to himself and looked around the bathroom. He kept his own first aid kit in a cupboard over the sink. Spencer didn’t have a cupboard over the sink. But there was one under it.

He moved across the room and crouched down to open the cupboard. To his relief the little kit he was looking for was tucked away inside. He pulled it out and found a bandage inside. He brought it back over to Spencer and the other man didn’t show any signs of registering Luke raising his right hand and carefully unwrapping the wet bandage.

His knuckles were caked in dried blood so without saying anything he guided Spencer to the sink and turned on the faucet. He held Spencer’s hand under the flow of water, gently brushing the blood from his skin with his thumb. Once his hand was clean he used a towel to dab his hand dry before reapplying the new bandage. The whole time Spencer didn’t look at him, didn’t move.

He secured the bandage and looked back up to meet Spencer’s eye which was harder than it should have been.

“When was the last time you ate?” Luke asked him softly.

Once again Spencer was looking at him but his gaze went through him. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Are you hungry?” He tried again and was met by a shake of Spencer’s head.

“Tired?”

This time Spencer nodded.

“Ok, I can put you to bed?”

Again Spencer nodded, but he didn’t move. Luke had to try and pretend this whole situation wasn’t entirely breaking his heart. He had to keep his emotions at bay, tell himself this wasn’t killing him to see Spencer like this otherwise he wouldn’t be able to get through this. And Spencer needed him to be strong right now.

He wrapped an arm around Spencer’s waist and Spencer seemed to deflate in an instant. His body crumpled against Luke’s, his entire weight being held up solely by Luke’s strong arms. Luke slowly started towards the bed, Spencer’s feet dragging along the floor like he physically didn’t have the energy left to lift his legs.

Luke guided him onto the bed and when he let go of the younger man, he caved in on himself, flopping to the mattress where Luke had set him down. With a heavy heart, he took Spencer’s feet and swung them up onto the bed. He located the duvet, briefly noting the coffee he’d made on the bureau and making a mental note to clear it away, before draping the sheet over Spencer still form.

He was curled on his side, eyes still open, staring straight ahead at the opposite wall. Luke couldn’t help but crouch next to the bed and stroke Spencer’s wet hair back off of his face. When he went to pull away he was startled by Spencer grabbing his wrist.

His long, slender fingers wrapped around him, his eyes suddenly staring right at him. He looked as if he had so much to say but didn’t know how to voice it. Luke tried to encourage him without the use of words. This time there was no doubt in his mind as to whether or not Spencer recognised him. It was the clearest he’d looked at Luke since he’d found him in the bathroom at the BAU. Spencer knew who he was. A little piece of him was coming back.

“Are you leaving?” Spencer’s voice sounded hollow, distant and so unlike himself.

“I was going to let you get some rest. But I can come back tomorrow if you’d like?” Luke’s hand was still on Spencer’s forehead, being held in place by Spencer’s grip on his wrist.

“Don’t leave me alone.” He whispered. “Don’t leave me alone with her.”

Luke wasn’t sure if the her he referred to was Cat or Lindsey but it didn’t particularly matter. There was no way on earth Luke was going to let Spencer be alone if he didn’t want to be. He was going to be here for as long as Spencer needed or wanted him to be.

Spencer let go of Luke’s wrist as if testing the waters to see if he would leave. Luke stroked back the rest of his hair and smiled softly at the terrified looking man in front of him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He assured him. “Get some rest, I’ll be right out there.” He nodded his head towards the door, but Spencer was shaking his head.

“No.” He whimpered. “No, she can still get to me when you’re gone.”

Luke felt a sharp pang in his chest, his heart breaking even further at the sad, pathetic tone in Spencer’s voice.

“What would you like me to do, Spencer? I’ll do anything you need me to.”

Spencer rolled his bottom lip between his teeth as though contemplating this for a moment or two. Then he heaved a pent up sigh and slowly rolled over a little, patting the now free space on the mattress with his bandaged hand.

“Lay with me?” He sniffed, and that’s when Luke noticed the tears behind his eyes. “Please. Please don’t go.”

It was hard to say exactly how many pieces Luke’s heart was shattered into at this point. Every bone in his body, every muscle, ached for the torment that must be going on in Spencer’s head.

“Ok. I can do that.” Luke gave him a slightly shaky smile.

When he stood back up, Spencer whined a little but Luke offered him a look to tell him he wasn’t leaving. He shrugged off his jacket and toed off his boots before lowering himself to the bed in the small space Spencer had created for him. He swung his legs up, settling his head back against the pillow.

As soon as he was settled Spencer quickly shuffled as close as was physically possible to Luke, his head coming to rest on Luke’s chest, nuzzling himself into Luke’s side.

An ear piercing sob wracked Spencer’s whole body and he buried his head into the fabric of Luke’s t-shirt. Luke wrapped Spencer in his arms, pulling him impossibly closer. He ran his fingers through Spencer’s wet and tangled hair and held him while he sobbed, imagining they were the first tears he’d let escape since his release. He clutched Luke’s shirt, balling the material up in his hand furiously.

“It’s ok cariño, I’m here. It’s ok.” He cooed, rocking Spencer slightly.

“Will it ever get better? Will she ever leave?” Spencer’s muffled sobs were hard to make out but Luke got the gist of it.

“I promise you it will get better. If it’s the last thing I do, I will help you through this, Spencer.”

Spencer became incoherent after that, crying and mumbling into Luke’s chest while Luke held him and tried to provide a little semblance of comfort to the man who needed it so much.

Hours seemed to pass and at one point Luke worried he may never stop crying. But eventually he wore himself out, or ran out of tears or maybe even both. His breathing started to calm, evening out slowly until his body went limp in Luke’s arms.

Luke didn’t expect Spencer would have a peaceful night's sleep, but it just might be restful enough for him to garner the energy to fight his demons another day.

***

Spencer’s eyes fluttered and he grumbled at the slight dull ache in the back of his head. He was used to waking up with a headache, that was a side effect of all the pent up emotions and thoughts he refused to let win.

But today was different. It wasn’t the typical excruciating pain he was used to waking up with, the kind no amount of Advil could tame. It was just a dull throb, relatively minor. He could definitely deal with that.

It took him a moment or two to realise that his pillow beneath his head was significantly harder than he remembered it being. He forced his eyes open, rubbed them with one hand and blinked a few times.

He shuffled a little, trying to find a comfortable spot but it was like his pillow had been replaced by…

“Morning, Reid.”

Spencer swallowed thickly as his eyes looked up into those of Luke Alvez. The pillow beneath his head, not a pillow at all, but Luke’s rock hard chest.

It was then Spencer realised his right leg was draped over Luke’s and his arm was wrapped around Luke’s waist.

Luke’s cheeks were flushed red as he looked down at the younger man using him as a life sized stuffed animal. Spencer blinked a few more times, trying to remember how he’d ended up here, in the arms of the one man he’d always wanted to find in his bed.

“Uh…hi?” Spencer croaked, his confusion written all over his face. He didn’t move though, he wasn’t sure why other than the fact being in Luke’s arms was warm and he felt safe. “Did I drink last night?”

“No.” Luke chuckled sadly, bringing his hand up to Spencer’s face and brushing back his unruly curls from his forehead. “You don’t remember?”

“No.” Spencer swallowed again. “I think that…maybe it’s best that I don’t. At least right now anyway.”

“Why’s that?” Luke kept stroking his hair and Spencer adored the way it felt.

“Because,” Spencer smiled a little, the tiniest movement of his lip but it was more than Luke had seen in a long time. “For the first time since I left prison, I feel light. And I don’t want that to go away just yet.”

“Fair enough.” Luke smiled back at him, fingertips grazing down from his forehead, down his cheek and jaw until he let it fall to his side. “We will have to talk about it though.”

“I know.” Spencer nodded, dreading what he could have gotten himself into to end up here. “But for now, can we just stay like this? Just a little longer?”

“Of course we can.” Luke agreed.

Spencer settled back onto Luke’s chest and Luke held him tightly. Spencer didn’t know how he’d ended up here but it was the best thing that could have happened to him. For the first time in months, Spencer Reid felt safe. He felt calm, like just for a moment his demons were silenced by the strong arms of Luke. It wouldn’t last, he was sure of it, but that didn’t matter right now. All that he cared about in that moment was how unburdened he felt for the first time since Mexico, since Cat Adams and Lindsey Vaughn. Maybe even for the first time ever.

Chances were it would pass, like most good things in his life. But for now Spencer was going to relish in the peace and quiet for as long as it lasted. Here in Luke’s arms he was safe from harm, protected from the wicked clutches of Cat Adams and all the other evils of the world. Luke Alvez was Spencer’s guardian angel, that he was sure of.

The two men laid in silence for some time, Luke’s hand languidly stroking Spencer’s hair while Spencer concentrated on the rhythmic beating of Luke’s heart.

Eventually, a sigh escaped Luke’s lips and his hand stilled on the back of Spencer’s neck.

“You know you need to get help right? The professional kind.” He spoke in hushed tones, not wanting to startle the younger man.

“Yeah I know.” Spencer’s voice trembled. “But Luke?” Spencer shifted in his arms so he could look up at Luke through watery eyes.

“Yes, Spencer?”

“I don’t know if I can…if I can do it alone.” He swallowed thickly, his eyes pleading Luke to never leave him.

Luke smiled at him and couldn’t stop himself when he bowed his head and placed a tender kiss on Spencer’s forehead.

He’d known from the moment he met Spencer that he’d do just about anything for this man. That had never changed, he’d never wavered from his belief that he would protect this creature with his life. If anything, at that moment, he was even more sure of that fact. If Spencer Reid needed him, he could have him, in any capacity.

Spencer’s lips twitched into a smile at the sensation of Luke’s lips pressing against his fragile skin. When Luke pulled away, he saw a light behind Spencer’s eyes he hadn’t seen since before his arrest.

He had a long way to go, huge mountains left to climb. But he’d take it one day at a time, and Luke would be there for him every painful step of the way.

“You’ll never be alone, Spencer.” He whispered, cupping the other man’s jaw lightly in his palm. “I promise you, you’ll never be alone again.”

Spencer’s tears overflowed at the sentiment as he nodded his head in understanding. He had a long, dark road ahead of him, but as long as Luke Alvez was the light guiding his way, the shadows lining his path didn’t seem quite as formidable as they did yesterday.

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