#and now I work with music as a job so I actually have the proper words to write it all down

[i-wiggle-i-squirm-bc-i-am-a-worm]

Unnecessary discussion about Chat Noir and the Drums

There’s something I love so much about Chat playing the drums in Horrificator. This is something that’s been on my mind since I was 13, so hold on here.

First, obviously, Adrien also plays the piano - which obviously still has a lot of meaning!! - I’m not here to diss on the piano, there’s a lot of freedom of expression in every instrument type and music expression in general, but there’s a reason why some people are more inclined to different instruments, and I think there’s a lot more to it than just sound, but feeling as well. The role you play. How it feels to play it alone vs. playing it with others, if it’s typically something that you can play alone vs. in a group.

So first, the piano, and how I think it relates to Adrien’s character, plus how it relates to those points.

The piano, let’s be real, is something that a lot of us were forced to take lessons for at some point. It’s something that has ties to high society (there’s a HUGE discussion and so much more to say about that, but let’s not go there) and honestly?? I think it works pretty well with symbolizing the obsession with perfection that Gabriel shoves onto him. I’ve known many piano players, and while some genuinely loved playing it, it was always easier to somehow stumble onto someone with a deep hatred for it after being forced into lessons. Whenever I asked them why they hated it, I got almost the same answer every time: “I need to be perfect.” (Along with people saying that they were forced to lol)

Then there’s the role you play. You can play with people in a band, an orchestra, as an accompanist, a duet, at a bar with a bunch of people singing - whatever - music has many forms, and many different connections. But the piano is something you can play solo, no need for anyone else. It isn’t what you can do with other people that I’m focusing on for this, it’s the fact that you don’t need anyone. You can play alone, and it’ll still be fine. You can be alone, and you’re still fine - perfect even - which is something that Gabriel shoves down his throat, resistant to him playing with his friends by touching on this ideology.

Which is a glimpse into how he sees Adrien, and how Adrien experiences life. He can be alone, in fact he’s more perfect when he’s alone. And when other people are added, the attention to his perfection is taken away bit by bit, until he’s not good enough. He has to play solo in concert halls, on stage for everyone to watch, not in the back of a bar, playing with his friends.

Alright, so now we move to Chat Noir and the drums. The main play of this fake essay. 

It would be so easy to just ignore everything and just go “haha, he’s the energetic one, so ofc Ladybug gave him the drums! And they’re an easy instrument to play, etc.” but that’s far from the truth.

Ok, so I’m not a drum player or percussionist in any way, but I am a bass player, and genuinely love the drums so much because they’re incredibly important, and here’s my cheesy analogy: the drums are the heart of the band, keeping everyone on beat, it’s what you feel at the centre of it all. The band is nothing without the drums, without the percussion (The bass is what connects the band to the beat of the drums, kinda like the blood vessels, but sadly this ain’t about bass).  Like do you know how easy it is for a band to fall apart if they don’t have a drummer??? You need a drummer. You literally can’t survive without a drummer, because even if you manage to work together, use the bass as a backing, whatever you try, there’s still not much of a heart left.

But besides that, do you know how hard it is to play the drums??? You can’t just throw someone crazy, or energetic there just because “crazy drummers lol” you need someone who listens. Who can set the beat. Someone you can rely on, because they are the person in control, even if they aren’t as flashy as the guitar player. Reliable is the word that comes to mind. The drums can make or break a band.

And wanna know who that reminds me of?

Yeah. I highly doubt that the writers put this much thought into a random five second scene in an episode of season one, but it fits with Chat Noir SO well. 

Unlike the piano, the drums are almost solely played in a group setting - you need other people, and other people need you - he needs other people in his life, his friends are needed, but they also need him. Ladybug needs him, along with all the other heroes in Paris, whether he sees it or not. He seems to get in a state of thinking he’s not needed, but i do really think he’s the emotional glue that keeps the team connected, the heart that keeps them beating. If he’s isolated, he can’t quite reach his full potential that he can when he’s allowed to be around others, just like they can’t reach their own without him.

But on top of that, I think the stereotypes of the drums actually works in his favour for the next part. 

Breaking free from his dad, and being his own person, letting that fame go and embracing what he wants... well, to some that would look stupid. 

Relating it to music, the piano is flashy, you can play it solo, it sounds impressive, looks impressive, and people won’t think you’re just hitting pots and pans in the garage when you say you play it. But the drums are underestimated, a lot of people think you don’t need much practice, that they’re just the guys who sit at the back of the stage, not doing much, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Just like Adrien finally being who he wants wouldn’t be stupid, it could never be stupid, but there’s a stigma. But letting go of his flashy, solo life, and being the heart of his friend group is something that I think makes him truly happy as Chat Noir, and hopefully he gets to be like that as Adrien too.

Like Plagg said, Chat Noir and Adrien are both the real him, and I think the drums capture that perfectly. The heart and freedom, the meticulousness (rather than perfection) and steadiness, those are good qualities of a drummer.

I dunno, I just think it fits.

(sdfghjklkjhgf again I should state that acoustic versions of songs exist, and you can play songs without a drum and it sounds fantastic, but I’m not going into that today. Just talking generalization, and playing in a group setting). 

[petew21-blog]

Like father like son, Part 1

Father P.O.V.

My ex-girlfriend is a witch. Fucked up right? Yeah I never believed in any of this and she knew. And after cheating on her she said she would "make me believe". What a load of crap. I thought. Well, not anymore. Me and my son found ourselves in each others bodies. It happened just as we were normally chatting. We weren't that close, cause I was working most of the time and he was out with his friends enjoying his teen years. I wanted to get close to him, but he seemed to not want to open up to me.

If you have seen a movie Vice Versa where the Dad and son swap bodies while touching the skull. Or is it a transformation? Ah, doesn't matter. Well it happened a bit like that too. We swapped bodies literaly. The clothes stayed where they were previously.

After the initial shock and realisation that it was my girlfriend who caused it, we went to get information from her. My son had to drive, cause his body didn't have a license yet. The start was horrible. He couldn't even keep his eyes on the road, so I had to yell at him what to do. But eventually we got to her house.

On the front door was a note that said:"Went on a holiday for a month. And to my lovely ex-boyfriend - having sex with someone else makes it irreversible :) have fun"

Yeah, so we found out that we were fucked until she got back from her holiday. A month in my teen son's hormone filled body and him in my horny middle aged one. Our chances are very slim I tell you

We got back home, staying quiet on the ride home. We went into the living room and got on the sofa. Then we made a deal. We had to respect our bodies as if it were our own, no sex allowed, no drugs and alcohol. We had to scratch the alcohol, has David said he wants to enjoy the adulthood. But besides that we agreed on everything. We then proceeded to tell each other the details of our schedules. I had to mentally prepare for being in high school again and he had to prepare for a real job. I was actually kind of happy to get back there. I missed being a teen, having less responsibilities etc. Being you, enjoying life, music, love, sex. Ah, fuck. That's gonna be hard

We even had a talk about respecting each others privacy, but after we thought about it, we came to a conclusion that there was no way we could avoid looking at our new bodies naked. We had to take shower some day, or take a shit. All of these are gonna be pretty intimate so that's why.

We agreed that our bedroom's are gonna me our own places that the other can't got to.

And so we went on and parted our ways while leaving to our bedrooms. Maybe we shoould have went to each other's bedroom, but we haven't thought about that. All our clothes were in the other room, but neverminf. My room has its own access to the bathroom so I'll enjoy that.

I took off my shirt first. My sons's athletic lean teen body just being there. My finger tips touching my haird, my lips my cheeks. Tracing my neck, through the ridges I now had, going down to my beautiful abs covered in hair. I was getting hard, is it weird being hard from touching your son's body? Jesus that sounds horrible. But I am not touching my son, he is touching himself, I am just the one in control now.

I got on the ground and took off my jeans. Revealing black boxers with KISS logo and two hairy and long legs. Quite similar to mine actually. Genetics is strong I guess

I headed to the bathroom to get a proper look and clean my new body. I can't neglect my son now.

I took off his boxers. His dick flacid now, but still big. "That's my boy". I went to the bath and turned on the water. But I had no intention in lying in the water now. I had much exploring to do. I started from my feet. The beautiful and clean feet. No hard skin. I took the water and sopa into my hands and brought it up everytime I explored a part of his body. Everything wet marked a place I already knew now

I was now soaping his body above the waist line, enjoying the tight skin of his body. Being young is so amazing. He is mostly hairless, if you don't count some private areas.

I was now soaped up completely, just scrubbing the body up and down. Enjoying every movement I took.

Wow his butt is really nice, almost woman-like. Maybe I could let some guy fuck me. Wait, I can't do that. We can't have sex in each others bodies or we would seal the deal. But masturbation is not off the table I guess.

I took my middle and index finger to try out the resistsance of his hole. Nah, this hole already knows what is about to happen. And then it hit me. Fuck, his prostate his so sensitive. I went and pushed my fingers inside, while my other hand started jerking my already throbbing cock.

It couldn't have been long cause I was almost collapsing from the abundance of strong emotion and stimuli. I shot cum into the bath and then got down into the water.

What a body. Maybe this month isn't gonna be so bad after all

I got out of the shower, to find my body in his own clothes staring at me

"Wow, dad. I see you didn't waste any second huh? Hope you enjoyed it"

"Dave, it's... I'm sorry, it's the hormones. I haven't been this horny for so long. I couldn't control it"

"It's fine dad. I am gonna do the same tonight"

The rest of the week went on pretty smoothly. There were some embarassing moments, like hearing myself having an orgasm in the other bedroom, or finding open porn videos on tv, but besides that not much. I was enjoying being a young guy in high school again and having David's friends around was really great. We hung out all the time. But his friend Liam seemed like he wanted to be more than friends with David. Which complicated things a bit. I was in David's gay body now and his body wanted Liam. But I was holding on

One day we were on a beach just enjoying the weekend. We played some beach volleyball and then we got back to our towels to sunbathe

Andrew, my straight friend, then said:"David? Isn't that your dad with a new chick? Damn, he scored a nice one this time. Would like this one for myself too. Look at those tits."

And he was right. David was walking around with a blonde woman that had a hand on his waist. What took me off guard was that my body started making out with her and grabbing her tits. Not caring who might see.

Wait, does this mean what I think it means? Are we really stuck like this now? I just hope he didn't have sex with her

I changed the story a tiny bit. I was really inspired by the photos so it went to a different direction than I hoped for. I hope you don't mind. If you do, please message me and I'll do another one especially for you :)

A story request from inbox: Hi, can you write a story about a closeted widow muscle dad swapping with his straight twink son and somehow their nethaw body fits their role? The dad in his twink son's body came out as a bottom gay and the sun in his muscular dad's for found a girlfriend which he fvcks every night. Thank you

[yournightmary]

Vi HCs

content warning:: i guess there’s some angst? but it’s arcane so it’s nothing new

AN:: just a mix of different headcannons to get me through season 2.

pitfighter!Vi

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I’m sorry but she smells so bad. I’m not talking about a little stink- she smells fucking rancid. It’s a mix of sweat, alcohol, blood, hair dye and sometimes even puke. I don’t think she even showers properly, she just runs a wet towel over her body and calls it a day.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She dyes her hair with the cheapest hair dye in front of her cracked mirror- that’s why it’s so shitty. Doesn’t buy enough and ends up not covering her ends every single time.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Barely has any clothes. Owns 3 pairs of jeans and 4 shirts, all of them ragged and stained. Doesn’t even wear the shirts most of the time, she just wraps her chest with bandages.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ At first she didn’t want to do the eyeliner thing but a few fellow fighters told her it’s something to be recognized and remember for. For the first few times she actually payed attention to how she’s applying it, but after that she said fuck it and just slapped it on. Also she doesn’t use proper eyeliner, maybe something like water-activated face paint.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Really craves touch. She’ll glue herself to random girls (bonus points if they have dark blue hair) at bars and blame it on being drunk. Nothing sexual, just plain affections.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Her every day looks the same. Wake up in the middle of the day, sulk on the shitty mattress that she calls her bed, work out, put on her make up, head to the pit, drink till the morning. There’s literally no difference in them.

young!Vi

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I don’t know where i’ve read it I think it was like an interview or something but she’s literally just a girl. She didn’t want to be the strong fighter that everyone knows not to mess with, but that’s who she has to be to survive in the Undercity.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Definitely gave music a try. Like be so fr, she has a saxophone on her bed. Maybe she found it on a job and thought it was too cool to sell. Always wanted to play guitar but it was out of her price range.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She knew she liked girls from very early on and so did everyone around her. She didn’t hide it from anyone, there was literally no reason to. In season 1 you can even see she has a poster of a half-naked woman next to her bed, like come on now.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I’ve seen people saying that she doesn’t know how to make food but hear me out. I think she’s actually a pretty good cook due to her being the ‘caretaker’ when Vander couldn’t do it. Definitely cooked for Powder when she woke her up in the middle of the night because she was so hungry it was bordering on being painful.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She cuts her own hair. One time she fucked up so bad she had to shave her whole side and it just kind of stayed with her.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Never does anything for herself. Whenever she finds something- like clothes or food- she gives it to someone else. Always makes sure the others have enough before she takes something for herself.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She feels so guilty after stealing stuff from other people. She’s not stupid and she knows how hard life in the underground is, and that it justifies her actions but still- she’ll roll from side to side instead of sleeping, thinking about how much of a shitty person she is.

dating!Vi

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Literally the best girlfriend out there and I will die on this hill.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She’s so touch-starved it’s unbelievable. When she was a teen she didn’t really experience anything relationship-like and then she got locked up for a few years. She’ll always have her arm around you, her hand on your hip or waist.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Oh my god her hugs are so good ahhhh. It’s just like being wrapped up in a warm blanket. Really likes to give hugs from behind too.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Loves cuddling, especially if it involves her lying on top of you. She doesn’t need any pillows if she has you and your lap, stomach or chest.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She is such an acts of service girl. And it goes both ways! If you make her dinner or plan a whole date by yourself she’ll feel so loved.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She stares so much it’s borderline creepy. She’ll just look at you in silence for a few minutes before turning her head away with a smile, thinking about how lucky she is to have you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ You’ll be cuddling with her before sleep, scratching her back or scalp for the whole time. Once you think she’s asleep you stop and she immediately looks up at you with furrowed brows, asking why you stopped.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ While she is proud of her physique and stuff she does feel self conscious about her hands. Mostly because of all the scars and bruises, maybe a little because of how manly they look.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She was a victim of being treated like a guy because she’s more masculine presenting than feminine. Pay for her food at a restaurant, do her makeup, tell her she looks pretty not handsome.

[cosmicpearlz]

can you open up the door?

summary: you guys hated each other, so why does your heart feel broken when you see him with another girl?

pairing: jude bellingham x reader

a/n: i feel like i'm running out of ideas to write, please request anything! i absolutely love writing for jude and would love to hear what you wanna see/read :) anywho, enjoy my loves!

jude felt like he was on a high. winning the final cup with real madrid had been a dream come true. now, he gets to go home and relax before playing in the euro 2024 competition. although, going home also meant seeing the one person he dislikes. you and jude had a long history of hating/disliking each other. it was hard because of how much time you guys spend together, being that you not only shared the same friend group but the same best friend as well.

"you know jude is coming home, right?" trent says to you, while you rolled your eyes.

"yes yes, i know already. i promise to be on my best behavior," you attempted to give him your best smile. it only made the boy laugh at how you tried to hide your annoyance.

"why don't you guys like each other again? i feel like the two of you would be perfect together. a proper power couple if you ask me."

"never say that again. i wouldn't be caught-" before you could even finish your thought, jude comes through trent's door.

"daddy's home," you groaned at jude's crude language. upon hearing the groan, jude locks eyes with you. have you always been this pretty? somehow prettier than the last time he saw you. jude rids the thought out of his head and turns his attention to trent. they shared a hug before jude takes his seat right across from you on the other couch.

"you didn't tell me that you invited the yapper."

"and he didn't tell that the dickhead was coming. so i guess we're in the same boat," you crossed your arms to your chest and glared at jude.

"guys can we not start?"

"he literally started it first! i was here way before he came in and interrupted things."

"well guess who was in trent's life first? oh right, it was me. you're just some outsider that thinks she fits in but you don't."

you weren't sure why that hurt your feelings as much as it did. maybe because deep down, you felt like he was right. you moved from america to england for college as an exchange student and landed a job working for england's football team as their photographer. it's where you met trent and jude.

"you're such an asshole jude," you tried to ignore the stinging in your chest, as you packed up your stuff and getting ready walk to your apartment.

Jude began to feel guilty for obviously hurting your feelings. he doesn't know why he says what he says. it just comes out but he thinks that this time it was too far. trent had told him about how you felt a bit lonely sometimes being that you weren't from england, and here he had used it against you.

"dude," trent looks to jude with disappointment, as the door slams closed behind you.

"i know, i'm sorry. i don't know why i said it."

"why don't you guys get along?"

"i'm not even sure anymore. we just continue to hurt one another."

-

it's been weeks since you had last spoken to jude or trent. avoiding the both of them like the plague, pretending that you won't be leaving with them to germany in exactly two days. today, jobe had texted you that he was throwing a going away party for the three of you. you tried desperately tried to get out of going but the younger boy wasn't having it.

so you went, unfortunately. dressing in a black mini dress with the black red bottoms you saved up to purchase for graduation. finishing the look off with a red handbag. the loud music from the club greeted you, while you walked in.

"you made it!" jobe yells over the music, after seeing you walk in. you smiled and gave him a hug. it never made sense to you that jude's brother was nicer to you than he was.

"did i actually have a choice?"

"no."

"exactly," the two of you burst out into laughter, which caught jude's ears. he won't admit it to anyone but he knew your laugh like the back of his hand. it was one of things he liked about you.

"are you excited to leave for germany?"

"honestly, yes and no."

"why the no?" jobe leaned in closer to whisper, "anything to do with my brother?"

"no."

"i know when you're lying. it definitely has something to do with jude! why don't you guys just kiss and make up," you gasp at jobe and slapped his shoulder.

"news flash, we don't like each other. plus, i would never kiss him nor date him," you replied, causing the younger boy to roll his eyes.

jude overhead everything. would it really be so bad if you were to date him? he wasn't sure why that left a sour note in body but he was determined to not let it bother him. instead, deciding to occupy his time with the first pretty girl he saw. just to further deny those hidden feelings. to get over someone, might as well get under someone new.

-

"you've been avoiding me," you looked to find trent taking the seat next to you on the couch.

"i've simply been busy."

"doing what? moping?"

"hey, i don't mope."

"so what are you doing right now?"

"people watching." trent followed your line of vision, finding that you were looking at jude engaged in a conversation with a pretty girl. you watched as he moved closer to her, causing her to giggle and place a hand on his arm.

"you have feelings for jude." you quickly shake your head in defense.

"no i don't."

"stop lying to yourself. you guys are both attracted to each other but don't know how to act on it. you guys spent at least two years pretending to hate one another, why?"

"i don't know."

"but you do. just tell me why. i'm your best friend." somehow, your heartbeat felt as if it were louder than the music. you do remember why you originally started to dislike him but you've never said anything.

"it's because i overheard a conversation between the two of you. we were already friends but it was the day you were going to introduce me to jude. i heard him say 'she will never be on my level or in my league'." you felt your eyes water as you brought up the same awful feelings you felt back then.

"y/n that's not what he meant. you didn't hear the rest of conversation."

"whatever, i don't care." you pick up your handbag and stand to leave. the saltiness of the tears falling onto your cheeks, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. trent stands up with you, trying to offer some sort of comfort that you didn't want. it was embarrassing enough to cry over someone that wouldn't even give you a second thought.

"i think i'm going to go home."

"y/n."

"i'm fine trent. please let me go," you whisper, not being able to look up from your heels. he nods at you and you take that cue to leave. rushing out of the loud atmosphere to the quiet outside air. jude's eyes follow your figure as you rushed out. immediately, he ignores the girl he was flirting with to follow you outside. you notice a tug on your arm, turning around you see the last person you wanna see.

"jude, i'm not in the mood."

"what's wrong?"

"why would i tell you? go flirt with the girl you were just with."

"well something is wrong with you and i want to make sure you're okay."

"why do you even care? i'm just an outsider trying desperately to fit in, right?" you watched as jude's mouth opens and closes, with furrowed brows, you scoffed.

"exactly. goodnight jude," you took one more look at him before getting into your uber that happened to show up at the right time.

jude walks back into the club with an angry expression on his face. he was more mad at himself rather than anyone in specific. he walks to trent, who was sitting in the same spot, nursing the same drink.

"please tell me what happened. i knew she was okay and then i seen her walk out."

"i totally knew it. you guys have feelings for each other!"

"trent."

"she was looking at you with the girl at the bar and finally told me why you guys don't like each other. turns out, it was complete miscommunication. y/n overheard you say 'she'll never be on my level or in my league'. i tried telling her that you didn't mean it like that but she didn't want to hear it."

the realization dawned on Jude as he thought back to that day. trent showed him one picture and he swore that he could have fallen in love right there. you had mixed his words up to rejection rather than realizing he meant that you were too good for him. maybe he could have worded it differently. you guys certainly wouldn't be in this mess now. would you guys be wrapped up in the same bed sheets whispering to each other? would you be at his football matches in madrid? would you visit him and let him show you around? a whole year he's played on the team and a whole year you could have already been his.

-

you were relaxed in your bed, having criminal minds in the background. the only sort of comfort you could find. stupid feelings and stupid jude. you wanted the floor to swallow you whole and then maybe you wouldn't have to deal with this.

a knock on the door draws your attention. who would be knocking at two o'clock in the morning? you get up from your bed, walking into the living room towards the door. you opened the door, finding Jude standing there with a small smile.

"what do you want?"

"to talk."

"no," you closed the door before the boy could say anything else. jude takes this sign to keep knocking, instead of just leaving.

"open the door. please, just hear me out and I'll leave you alone afterwards." you leaned your head on the door debating on letting him in.

"open up the door. i'm not leaving until you do." you finally open the door after two minutes, afraid that the knocking was going to bother your apartment neighbors. you pulled him inside and closed the door once again.

"what do you-"

"you have it all wrong. what you overheard was wrong. i meant that you looked like you were too good for me. that i didn't even deserve to try and win you over. how could you ever think differently? you are the prettiest girl i've ever known-"

"jude."

"i was only rude to you because that's what you did to me when we first met. there are so many things i wish i did differently. i could be the one kissing your tears away and not causing them. you're not an outsider, far from it actually-"

"jude!" you finally got the boys attention, locking eyes with him. you couldn't believe that your feelings were returned. all the time that was wasted. without a second thought, you pulled his shirt collar and kissed him. your lips molded together perfectly. a sudden eagerness that made the kiss more intense. jude's hand slipping under your pajama top, to touch your bare skin trying feel closer to you. you pulled away first, feeling overwhelmed with emotions.

"i'm so sorry sweetheart. i didn't mean of it." jude swipes away the tears that fell from your eyes.

"i'm sorry too."

"you have nothing to apologize for. it's my fault."

"it takes two to tango jude. i've said some pretty awful stuff too and i'm sorry."

"where do we go from here? what do you truly want y/n? if you want to pretend this never happened, i'll comply." his eyes trailing your face for some sort of sign.

"i just want you."

"you have me baby. you always have," jude whispers, before connecting your lips together once more.

[februarybluues]

You spin my head around (like a record)

summary: hobie never believed in throwing his money away to useless big corporations. but, when you started working at his favorite record shop, he decided to make a small exception. warnings: slight flirting, terrible british a/n: i love this idea so so much and have many ideas for it so if you want a part 2 let me know!!!

If there was one thing hobie hated most, it was capitalism. Having to spend money on things you didn’t need but were marketed in a way that made you feel like you needed them, pissed him off to no end. Especially when it came to big corporations. He didn’t see the purpose of having to feed these ‘money-hungry pigs’, which would only end up causing harm to everything and everyone that got in their way. The only exception was small businesses. He never gave his money away on anything unless he desperately needed it, but that wasn’t often. Until it came to you.

There was a particular record shop in the middle of the city that he occasionally visited. Mainly because it was the only one near him that actually had his favorite artists. – which were rarely sold due to how ‘underground’ they were. Don’t get me wrong, he liked his fair share of mainstream, popular artists, he just also liked his fair share of small garage punk bands. The kind of small bands you’d find playing at your local pub. But, the point is: that specific record shop was the only one he actually liked. But, that didn’t change his hatred for capitalism. Which meant he wasn’t shy to ‘borrow’ a few cd’s, or vinyls from that shop. Actually, he hadn’t once paid for anything, and he’d never once been caught. That’s just how things were. He’d never planned to feed into society’s corrupt ideations. Never. He would continue to visit that record shop whenever he pleased, but never once considered buying anything. That is, until a new employee started working there.

They were perfect. The living embodiment of utter perfection. Every time Hobie entered the shop he was greeted by a sweet smile from behind the till. Everything that person did drove Hobie crazy. - in the best way imaginable. That person was you. You’d only recently gotten the job, around a few weeks ago. It was simple enough, but it definitely was not your dream job. You only got it because you needed the money, even though the pay was barely enough to get you going for the week, it was something! Despite never once having a proper conversation, Hobie knew he liked you. From your genuine, unrelenting kindness, to your style. He was fond of everything you did. And before he knew it, his occasional visits turned to him visiting whenever he could. Not because he wanted to actually buy anything, but because he wanted to see you. Any chance he got, he would rush straight over to you. It got to a point where he had memorised when you were working and when you weren’t. And now, here he was.

“Are you actually gonna pay this time?” you asked him, familiar with his habit of pocketing cd’s and vinyls and then leaving. You never did anything about it for many reasons. One of which was because you did not get paid enough to deal with it. And also, because he was insanely attractive. He laughed. Not like an actual laugh. But, a small exhale, similar to scoffing. “Maybe I am,” he said, handing you the vinyl. You smiled at him and scanned the record, noticing the familiar album cover. “Oh sex pistols!” you exclaimed, mentally taking note of how his music taste was almost as beautiful as he was. “You’ve got good taste.” you said, before putting the record in a bag. You didn’t notice how he lit up at the sudden compliment; freaking out on the inside, but playing it off well. “You listen to ‘em?” he asked, his heavy accent now very prominent. Your smile never once faltered as you looked back at him. “I love them!” you said. You began to hum the tune to one of their songs, doing a dramatic little dance, which earned a small laugh from him. “You know… It’s surprising that you’re actually buying something for once.” you commented, jokingly but also genuinely. He tilted his head to the side in response. “Oh yeah? How so?”  he leaned against the till, hands in his pockets as he talked with you. “Well, I see you here all the time. - Almost every time I'm working, actually. And - I guess I kinda got used to you wandering around and then leaving. It’s kind of weird how this is the first time I’ve heard your voice.” you laughed, and his lips quirked up in a small, almost unnoticeable smile. “What’s wrong with havin’ a look around?” his voice was low, and he spoke innocently. Despite the both of you knowing he was anything but innocent. “We both know you’ve been having a bit more than a look around.” you said, in reference to the many times you’d seen him ‘borrowing’ a few cd’s. He laughed this time. In truth, he cherished this moment. As it had been the first time he’d heard your voice. You were sweet, funny, and apparently had good music taste. All three of those traits were almost impossible to be found in the people Hobie had met. There was just something about you that was so different from everything else. So unique and-

“That’ll be 24.99” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts. 24.99? He repeated in his head, confused. He could’ve sworn that the price tag said 30? Had you given him a discount? For literally the first time ever, he handed the money to you and paid. He regretted a lot of things, but getting to talk to you was not one of them. You handed him the bag and smiled at him once more. Hobie then realised this would probably be the only time he’d ever interact with you again. In a panic, he spoke up again. “D’ya wanna spend time together after this? We could maybe listen t’the record? See if it was worth th’money?” While the usual confidence in his voice remained, there were hints of hesitation laced under his words. “I’d love to!” you exclaimed, blatantly happy. He smiled, now exposing his teeth. “Lovely.”

“I almost forgot–here’s my number!” you pulled out a pen from your pocket and wrote your phone number on the paper bag that you put his vinyl in; trying to make it as neat and legible as possible. Once you were happy with it, you handed it back to him. “I get off work at 6. Call me then and we can organise something, yeah?” you offered, to which he nodded. “It’s a date.” he said, and winked before turning around and exiting the shop; the jingling of the door suddenly sounded way happier than it usually did. Maybe your new job wasn’t so bad after all.

hey pookie just wanted to let u know my requests are opennn and you wanna request something sooooo badly so why don't you just go over there and send one in thanks love u hope you liked that little fic

[merakiui]

Oh my goshhhh speaking of Azul did u see that its confirmed he knows how to play piano in the new event??? Imagine creepy piano teacher Azul vibes *screams into the void*

I saw!!!! It’s one of my favorite tako facts. His aura increased tenfold the moment I learned he can play piano. <3 aaaa but creepy piano teacher Azul……. my first thought was that teacher from Little Nightmares 2 because she plays piano at one point in the game when you’re trying to sneak around her. That’s a different kind of horror, but I digress hehe.

Creepy piano teacher Azul who sits beside you on the seat and shows you proper hand placement, telling you to stretch your fingers to reach the keys for the chords. Gently correcting your placement, his hands ghosting over yours to move them into place. Mr. Ashengrotto who is suddenly sitting much closer than he was before, practically shoulder to shoulder with you, and you can smell his expensive cologne. He always gives you a challenge with every lesson. New sheet music to learn and practice, each one more complex than the last. He knows you can do it (just as he’s certain he knows you can take all of him).

He invites you to dinner when you do well in your recital, congratulating you on a job well done (not that he ever doubted you). You thought he’d invite the rest of his students as well, so it’s a little…odd that it’s just you and him. But you’re grateful he’s taught you so much. Without him, you wouldn’t have had such a successful recital! Mr. Ashengrotto got you that bouquet only to congratulate you. No other reason, you assure yourself.

But then he orders a bottle of some fancy, expensive wine for the two of you to share and tells you to get whatever you’d like because he’s paying. In fact, this restaurant is far more luxurious than what you’re used to. You would’ve been content with fast food. ^^;; actually, you’d prefer that over this. This feels too intimate. Too private. So is the conversation he strikes with you. Things about your personal life. None of it is related to academics or music.

You don’t want to disappoint your teacher, though!! >_< so you drink and eat and drink and eat and drink some more, drunkenly going on about how you’ve never had a boyfriend and you’ve never had sex and you think it’s so silly because isn’t everyone supposed to have had sex once they’re in college???? Mr. Ashengrotto just smiles and listens to your ramblings; his cold, calculating blue eyes are bright under crystalline light.

By the end of it all, you’re leaning on him, stupidly drunk, completely out of it, so warm and full of giggles. He can’t just send you on your way in this state. No, no. That’s much too unsafe. You’re better off staying with him for now. You’ve never been inside his house before. It’s so pleasant. Everything is neat and tidy. Oh, he’s helping you out of your shoes and coat. What a gentleman. Oh, he wants you out of everything? You think that’s weird, but it’s a distant, dizzy thought that disperses once you’re in nothing but your undergarments, pressed against the wall, your teacher’s leg slotted between your thighs, his mouth at your neck.

You’ve never been inside Mr. Ashengrotto’s bedroom before, laid bare on his bed. You’re not sure about this. You tell him you’re a virgin. That you’re nervous. You don’t know if you can do this.

Mr. Ashengrotto smiles, working you open with slick fingers. If you can wow an entire auditorium full of people, earn all of their praise and thunderous applause, then you can most certainly do this. If it soothes your nerves, just pay attention to him. You’re in good hands. See? Would he ever hurt you? Look—watch how tenderly he handles you, how he makes sure to go slowly, how sweet his kisses are. Open your mouth more, he says. Let him taste you.

Just like your lessons he teaches you what to do and somehow you do it.

[libraryofolive]

time to dye

featuring: Takuma Ino x gn!reader

genre: Fluff, crack

word count: 1.1k

synopsis: Chaos reigns supreme as your golden retriever boyfriend helps you dye your hair

Like this? You can find my smaus here and my drabbles and other fiics here!

Do you have a request? You can find my rules for requesting here!

When your boyfriend Ino Takuma squeezed the first blob of dye directly onto your scalp, you couldn’t help but shriek at the cold goop hitting your sensitive skin.

“What are you doing?” You cried, keeping your head as still as possible as to not splatter dye across your white bathroom walls. You were dressed only in your cheapest oversized tee, one that already had more than a sprinkle of dye on it from previous attempts at colouring your hair, and panties, not trusting Ino to not accidentally get anything on any trousers you wore. You loved him, you really did, but when he asked you to help you colour your hair, you were… sceptical, to say the least.

“Trust me, babe! This is how I saw someone do it on TikTok!” He too was dressed in an old t shirt and a pair of boxers, heeding your warning about not getting anything on the clothes he actually liked wearing. The flimsy plastic gloves that came with the box dye adorned his hands, a dye brush in his hands as he started to spread the concoction over the top of your hair. His tongue stuck out his mouth slightly, his brow furrowed in concentration. You admired his concentrated face in your bathroom mirror, only to get pulled out of your admiration by his shoddy technique.

“Takuma, make sure you get it on every layer, not just the top of my head. As cute as the Narcissa Malfoy type of hair can be, it’s not what I’m going for right now.”

“I told you, just trust me! I’ve done my research, I swear.” He made eye contact with you through the mirror, grinning wildly. The fact that he had gone out of his way to look into how best to help you, and was so happy about it, made your heart flutter. This - much like your previous appreciation of your boyfriend - was cut short again, though, as you felt dye slowly seep its way onto his forehead.

“You’re getting it on my face, babe - its a good job I remembered to cover my forehead with Vaseline to avoid it staining my skin.” Your voice was full of mirth, lightly teasing your pseudo-hairdresser. Music wafted around the two of you as you settled into a comfortable silence, Ino too concentrated on your hair to keep up a conversation. You broke the silence occasionally to remind him of something or to tease his technique, but you were happy to be pampered by your eager boyfriend. You had to admit, this was a much nicer way to dye your hair than straining to reach the back of your head and praying you hadn’t missed a patch that you couldn’t see - especially when Takuma’s gloved hands started massaging your head.

“What are you doing? You’re gonna get it all over you.” You asked when his long fingers started to work themselves through your locks.

“Shh, baby, relax. I’m giving you a head massage - making sure I get dye into all the nooks and crannies. You’re gonna look so good, I know it.”

“Because of your expert hair dressing skills?”

“Well, yeah, but also cos it’s you, and you always look good.” His off-handed compliment had your face warming and your gaze straying from his in the mirror.

“Yeah, whatever.” You mumbled.

Eventually, all of the dye was used up, your boyfriend’s gloves discarded, and a timer set to let it marinade into your hair. The two of you sat cross-legged on the floor of your bathroom, now facing each other, knees touching.

“Can I wash it out for you? Like a proper salon?” Ino asked you.

“Really? You want to do that?”

“Well, I’m not half-a-job Bob. Gotta make sure my client is looked after and the dye washed out properly, duh. And to try and save your pillowcase and towels later.” He grinned at you, taking your hands in his and holding them up in the middle of the two of you. You hummed affirmatively as you studied his arms - he had slashes of colour running up his forearms from where they had accidentally caught some of your hair. He brought your hands up to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

Washing the dye out of your hair was nothing but chaos - you kneeled, leant over your bathtub, the shower head that normally rests above it being pulled off its holder and used by Ino to rinse off your hair. He started off by rinsing off as much dye as he could without shampoo, but when it came to loading your hair up with the soap, he put the shower head down next to you in the bath. This caused the water still coming out of the showerhead to propel it onto its back, the water ending up spraying all over your walls and bathroom floor. You started screaming, unable to lift your head out of the tub for fear of making it worse with your dripping hair, and Ino had both hands covered in your expensive shampoo that he had been told not to waste under any circumstances.

“WHAT DO I DO?” He yelled, eyes wide as they took in the carnage he had accidentally created.

“GRAB IT, KUMA!”

“BUT YOUR SHAMPOO-”

“I CARE MORE ABOUT MY BATHROOM THAN MY SHAMPOO, YOU DIMWIT!”

Eventually, Ino grabbed the shower head, pointing the stream of water back into the bathtub. Warily, he handed you the the showerhead so that you could hold it steady whilst he lathered up your hair with soap. Why the two of you didn’t think about that in the first place, you had no idea. You decided to chalk it up to the fumes of the dye messing with your heads.

Eventually, the water being used to wash your hair ran clean, giving you the all clear to stop. You banished Ino to the living room as you dried and styled your hair, not letting him see his finished product until it was, well, finished. You adored him, you really did, but you didn’t trust enough to apply extreme heat to your hair just yet. Maybe one day, you had assured him, but when you looked at your sodden bathroom walls and floor, today was not that day.

You jumped into the living room, throwing your arms wide open and yelling “Surprise!” to catch your partner’s attention. His jaw dropped when he saw your hair - his work - and how well the colour suited you.

“Woah.” He walked towards you, running his hands through your freshly coloured and styled hair.

“You did a good job, babe.” You praised his work.

“Good job? Baby, my work is spectacular!” He said, a wide smile on his face and hearts in his eyes, admiring you, and praying that you’d let him help you next time, too.

[libraryofgage]

@holyangelstudentuniverse requested the following: Steve working at Bath & Body Works while Eddie is the mall pianist?

I love it omfg, your brain is fantastic I hope I did the idea justice

(if you see any typos no you didn't <3)

The old food court pianist was...okay. Technically, she was good; she knew how to play and rarely made mistakes. She was also clearly just there for the bi-weekly check (not that Steve can blame her), and her playing reflected that. The piano became the ideal white noise, loud enough to lessen the awkwardness of any silence but not so amazing that people couldn't ignore it in favor of conversing with each other.

The new food court pianist? He's a fucking enigma.

He's very clearly skilled, and he seems to actually enjoy the job. He plays like Billy Joel and Elton John met one night, had a piano contest, and then had a baby to create the perfect pianist. He's great and energetic and can play anything from Mozart to fucking Cardi B, and Steve wishes he'd quit already so he can actually focus on his own shitty mall job instead of getting absorbed in the guy's playing.

"You should just hook up with him," Robin says one day, hip-checking Steve as she passes by with a box of Cherry Blossom products. She restocks the soap bottles first, then the perfume, then the lotions, and finally the tiny hand sanitizers with their shitty little plastic flip-caps that Steve swears break for the fucking fun of it.

Steve, meanwhile, is replacing last week's sales signs with new ones. They're the exact same. They rarely change, actually. The only difference is the "expiration" date at the bottom, which changes if only to continually sell customers that sense of urgency that results in them buying $50 worth of products they'll forget about until the holidays come around and they need white elephant gifts.

He's almost done, too. All that's left are the signs by the metal gate pulled down over the store's entrance. They'll open it in about an hour to prepare for the mall's opening, but for now, it's staying down to discourage the mini-bodega clerk in the middle of the hall from flirting with Robin and trying to sell her shitty perfume like she can't just steal shitty perfume from Bed Bath and Beyond at the end of the day.

He waits until after he's switched the sign to turn around, arms crossed over his chest. His back is to the gate, and Steve would normally be too fucking paranoid about a blind spot to withstand it, but he's in argument mode.

"I barely know the guy," he says.

Robin snorts as she crouches, stocking extra hand sanitizers in the tiny drawers at the bottom of the shelf. "Yeah, but I know you, dingus," she says, her voice light and bouncing. "You hear the guy's muzak version of a Lil Nas X song and you're ready to marry the guy."

"I can just recognize artistic ability! Have you ever tried to make a pop song sound like a classic?" he asks.

"My point," Robin says, pushing some hair out of her face, "is that you should ask him out. Maybe you two can play piano together."

If she hadn't already heard it before, Steve would be immediately launching into an explanation of why that wouldn't work. Steve has never met someone he liked or trusted enough to actually play with them. Sure, he's tried playing with a partner before if only to say he gave it a shot, but it sucks. Especially when you don't like the person. You're squished together on an uncomfortable bench, sharing sheet music, elbows bumping as you both try to reach the proper keys to keep the song from sounding horrendous. It's Steve's personal version of hell on earth.

But Robin has heard that rant before, so Steve graciously spares her from hearing it again. For now. Until he's drunk, probably.

"What, I'm just gonna waltz up to the piano and ask if he's free on Saturday? Or, I don't know, try some dumb pick-up line like asking if he comes here often?"

"I'll be honest, it's not the worst pick-up line I've heard."

Steve and Robin jump, both whipping their head to look at the grate to see the food court pianist grinning at them (well, more specifically, he's grinning at Steve) from the other side. He's wearing a button-down black shirt with ripped skinny jeans, old Converse, and more accessories than Steve can count. There are chains on his jeans and a guitar pick hanging from his neck and an ear cuff and a stud through the edge of his eyebrow and so many chunky rings that Steve could use as an excuse to stare at his hands for an hour.

Robin is the one who breaks out of the shock first. She jumps to her feet and walks over to Steve, resting her arm on his shoulder and leaning against him. "But would it work?" she asks.

The guy grins wider, obviously looking Steve up and down to check him out before looking at Robin. "From Stevie here? Yeah. He's really rocking the apron," Eddie replies, winking at Steve.

Steve is about to ask how the guy knows his name, but then he remembers the name badge on his apron. He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away to glance down at Robin.

She seems to be having the time of her life right now.

"Well, uh, I'd prefer to know your name before trying any pickup lines," he says.

"Eddie Munson at your service," Eddie says, bowing to Steve with a dramatic flourish that he finds more endearing than anything else.

One look at Robin and her scrunched nose tells him she thinks it's a little over-the-top and, dare he say, cringe. Her opinion doesn't actually matter, though, since she'd be down bad for any girl that curtseyed at her.

Steve looks back at Eddie, noting the now expectant gleam in his eyes. He can't help an amused smile as he says, "Well then, Eddie," Steve says, stressing his name a little just for the fun of it, "come here often?"

Robin groans next to him. "Fucking hell, Steve," she mutters, slapping him upside the head. "I know you suck at flirting but you really couldn't come up with something better?"

"No, no," Eddie tells her, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm into it."

"And I'm out of it," Robin says, raising her hands in surrender before scurrying back to her Cherry Blossom products.

She's definitely still listening, though.

Steve rolls his eyes are her reaction and focuses back on Eddie. "So, uh, are you free on Saturday?" he asks.

"Completely free," Eddie says, taking a step closer to the gate and shoving his hands into his pockets. "How about lunch?"

"Yeah, I know a great pizza place."

"It's a date then," Eddie replies, winking at Steve. "By the way, any song requests?"

Steve blinks and thinks for a minute before asking, "Do you know Vienna?"

Eddie's grin tells Steve that he does, in fact, know Vienna. "Vienna it is." With that, he winks at Steve once more before heading back to the food court.

"That was painful," Robin says once he's far away enough.

Steve rolls his eyes and flips her off. "You're just jealous I've got a date and you're still too chicken shit to approach the Nike girl."

Robin practically squawks at him. "Oh, fuck you," she says.

"I'll leave that to Eddie, thanks," Steve says, laughing when Robin gags.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

This moving arc is going crazy ngl. This season is really peak, JJK could never

I know you didn't even mean for this to be an ask but:

(Genshin Impact/GFL) How helpful Lisa, Eula, Noelle, Navia, Furina, Lumine, AK-12, AN-94, AK-15, and RPK-16 would be during your move

After fighting boxes and moving trucks for the last 6 straight days, this has been on my mind.

(Lisa) "Oof, these boxes are going to kill my back tomorrow...!"

Lisa has experience carrying heavy books from her days studying in Sumeru and being a Librarian in Mondstadt.

But do you really think this beautiful woman is going to help you carry the seventeen boxes of glass kitchenware that you have no recollection of even owning?

Absolutely not.

That is too heavy, even for her.

But at the very least when the moving and unpacking is over, she will give and demand the very best cuddles to recover from the process.

Expect her to say that she was sore with helping you last night in an intentionally weird way to get a rise out of you and anyone in the vicinity.

Help Rating: 2/5, Call Lisa in for the love, not for physical labor.

(Eula) "Good grief, how much dust is in here?!" ACHOO! "Ugh...! If this was some elaborate scheme just to hear me sneeze the entire time, I will enact terrible vengeance upon you!"

Quips of revenge aside, she is actually very helpful!

Eula can carry the boxes no problem, and makes sure to have the proper posture when doing so.

If she can swing her claymore around like they're nothing, then surely your belongings will be jut as trivial?

She is also extremely gentle putting down boxes that she knows is full of your stuff.

The only real negative thing you have to deal with is just her constant muttering if a box is giving her too much trouble.

Help Rating: 3/5, You now swear vengeance upon the boxes thanks to Eula saying it over and over

(Noelle) "Please, allow me! I can have these put away in no time!"

The boxes will be hearing boss music upon Noelle's arrival.

For when there is a mess, Noelle is inevitable.

She somehow packs everything into the boxes into such an impossibly efficient manner, that you didn't know you could fit that much stuff into a small cardboard box.

Noelle also does it under a few hours without breaking a sweat.

The scary part is that she can go faster while keeping the same immaculate level of care if you give her a kiss on the cheek or praise her.

And it'll mean even more to her by the fact you're still helping her. It's the thought that counts!

Help Rating: You don't even need to be there/5

(Navia) "Here, just tell me where these boxes are going in your new home. Packing? Hm, no need!"

You know what she does instead of packing herself?

She hires someone else to do it.

When it comes to more personal items, she'll gladly help you wrap it carefully and with love.

But all your furniture?

Yeah, no. That's what the hired help is for.

You and Navia will be directing people left and right where to place the furniture and boxes of your belongings without really needing to lift a finger yourself.

Help Rating: 5/5, the best help is the kind where someone else does the entire job for you.

(Furina) "Oh, it is about time you come to me for aid, dearest! Allow me to help!"

In the wise words of Sergeant Johnson:

"Hmph, MY ASS!"

This woman didn't even unload her boxes when she moved into her apartment, what makes you think that she'd help you unload your stuff properly?

She may be an Archon but her arm strength and experience with moving is next to nothing.

Furina will act all cool and try to lift a box only for it to nearly collapse on her, or throw her out her back.

Her little familiars can't help with your boxes since you know, they're made of water.

But at least the pouting face she'll make will be cute. Kinda like Aqua, huh?

Help Rating: Just get Clorinde or Neuvillette, don't ask the blue gremlin/5

(Lumine) "We really need to get you a teapot! Anyways, let's get to work!"

Lumine doesn't mind to help, and her arm strength despite her appearance is insane.

She'll be carrying 3-4 boxes like it's nothing, though she struggles to actually see anything in front of her.

Paimon helps as much as she can, so you get a 2 for 1 deal asking Lumine!

She's a little unused to moving furniture herself since Tubby and the Teapot took care of that for her own home, but she makes moving very fun!

Help Rating: 5+1/5, but Lumine will question your taste in decor.

(AK-12) "Ah, moving dorms? Well, at least it's within the base and not too far.~"

Even though 12 is a combat android, she can only lift so much.

She might complain about the servos in her arms going haywire and that you'll need to fix them, but in reality she's just teasing just to get a rise out of you.

And despite her eyes being closed, she has better sense of her surroundings than you do, not once bumping into anything or hitting the doorframes.

Once its finished, 12 will just say that you 'owe her one' for helping with the move.

Help Rating: 3/5, it'd be higher but she's too damn smug about lifting more than you.

(AN-94) "Moving assignment understood. Providing assistance."

94 is a little stiff about the moving process at first.

But as it progresses, she uncharacteristically gets distracted by the items you choose to keep and throw away.

She'll ask with a curious expression about why you're throwing away old but usable items, and 94 ends up learning a lot about you.

While the move itself is very normal, it ends up being a nice bonding experience for the two of you!

Help Rating: 4/5, very sweet

(AK-15) "This weight is trivial. Please, stand aside for a moment."

15 is an absolute monster when it comes to the physical labor.

She will stack the heaviest boxes into one pile and carry it without even moving her hair.

15 helpfully moves any of the things you'd struggle with, all the while her expression doesn't really change.

She'd question why you'd thank her for simply doing her job, but it's something she'll appreciate with the slightest blush.

Help Rating: 5/5, she can probably lift you, me, and the boxes in one hand.

(RPK-16) "Hm...I wonder if humanity were to go extinct right now, what would the new race think of finding your belongings?...Hah, your face! Don't mind me, just thinking aloud.~"

16 is not really that strong, but since she's an android, boxes aren't too bad of a gig for her.

After all, she lugs around an LMG.

Regardless, she helps you pack but be prepared to answer a LOT of questions on why you own the items you do.

Both out of genuine curiosity, and to annoy the shit out of you.

But hey, you'll at least get through the moving somewhat quickly thanks to her.

Help Rating: 3/5, Thanks to her, there's now a lot of weird cryptic questions floating through your mind. Such as if the bug that finds its way into the box knows that it had walked into its tomb?

[flamingo-writes]

What would you think if Hobie asks reader to cut the ends of his hair that bother him because of the mask and while she was doing it, she sang a nice song to him, meanwhile some little flowers began to bloom around them.

Really like the last post and this came to my mind immediately.

Listen, I’ve been daydreaming of this the entire day. I think this idea was very cute!

Also, little disclaimer: I was born and raised in Mexico, so, I’m very unfamiliar with how black people’s hair works. I know culturally it has a lot of importance, but other than that I knew very little of the different types of hair and ofc the insane variety of treatments and proper care as well as the different ways to give maintenance to different kinds of dreads. Also, as someone who has had very short hair for 2/3 of my life, as well as shaving my own head for the better part of the last 4 (5?) years, in general hair care and routines are something I’m wildly unfamiliar with, the longest I had my hair in the latest years was a 6 inch or so Mohawk I grew two years ago. Hobie has been a very good opportunity for me to educate myself a lot in hair (especially black people’s hair) and I spent a good portion of my evening watching videos/TikTok’s and reading on dreadlocks and their maintenance. If I wrote something inaccurate or wrong, please let me know, help me see my mistake, and I will fix it as soon as I can.

This came from this other request, I’m thinking of turning into a series.

Flower Bed — Hobie x Reader

Also, you said little flowers, but my brain decided to go for a full flower bed 😭 I hope you like this!

Warnings: none.

“Oí, luv…” Hobie said walking out of the bedroom, looking around you.

“Bathroom!” You shouted as he followed your voice, noticing the bathroom door opened and you kneeling by the shower.

Plants cramped in the shower as you watered them.

“Oh, never mind, you’re busy” He said.

“I’m almost done. I just need to water the ones in the kitchen sink and the monsteras…” You said as you’d todo up and stretched your back. “I’ll be done in ten minutes, what’s up?”

“I wanted to ask you if you could help me trim my hair, it’s starting to get long and gets stuck in the mask and, you know…” He asked softly. “But I can’t see the back of my head,”

“Sure, I’ll help you,” You said giving Hobie a kind smile.

He smiled back, walking up to you and kissing your forehead.

“Need help with the plants?”

“As you wish,” You replied happily. “You were asleep earlier and didn’t want to wake you, so I started watering them on my own…”

“I’m awake now,” He said. “I’ll water the monsteras,”

“Thank you, babe,” You purred.

By the time you were done with the plants, you went ahead and started helping Hobie out. You sat on the edge of your bed, as he sat on the floor. Since Hobie was tall, this was the most comfortable arrangement. It wasn’t also the first time you trimmed his wicks. He asked you to help him every few months.

As you put some soft music in the background, you got started, trimming dread by dread. Taking care to cut the hair while keeping the end of the dread rounded. Cutting just across each wick was already hard as they were thick, but you also wanted to keep them looking nice and rounded. Which was also a reason why Hobie asked you for help. You did a much better job at it than him.

Even when he didn’t admit it, or didn’t look like it, every single detail in his appearance was planned. Especially his hair. He liked taking care of it, and over all treated his hair like this very intimate thing, he hated having other people touching his hair. Except you. He actually loved it when you touched his hair, ran your hands through it, your fingers disappearing between the dreads. And the particular care and dedication which which you seemed to tend to every wick.

Deep in your concentration, watching over the little details, you were unconsciously singing. Something you also did quite a lot. When you were deeply focused on something, you’d start humming and eventually singing. Which only added to the relaxing time Hobie was having.

Between your gentle hands running through his hair, and now the soft sound of your voice singing in a low voice, going along with the music. Hobie lived for these little peaceful moments, making him feel absolutely contempt with his life. These little moments were everything to him.

As he had his eyes closed, focusing on every brought of your touch against him, he didn’t notice at first the plants growing around you.

It wasn’t plain on obvious. In fact, Hobie didn’t notice until he felt something tickling his elbows. He opened his eyes and saw flowers growing out of the floor, tiny plants growing buds and flowering. All in a matter of several seconds. And you continue to sing, concentrated. He blinked several times, wondering if you were aware of what you were doing, as he kept staring at the flowers growing and multiplying, coming out of the wooden floor tiles.

“Uh, luv?” Hobie asked in a low deep voice.

“Hm?” You hummed, answering Hobie’s question, sounding way too focused in your job as you were rounding one of the last wicks.

“Are you aware of the fact that you pretty much brought spring into our bedroom?”

“Huh?” You asked confused, breaking your hyper focus and looked around, noticing the flowers covering almost the entirety of your floor. White, red, lilac, and pink flowers, extending across your small bedroom. “Fuck,”

Hobie laughed softly.

“You didn’t notice?”

“N-no…” You whispered softly.

“That’s amazing…” Hobie sighed. “It’s beautiful, by the way…”

“The thing is I don’t know how to…un-grow them…And they’re a lot…” You said softly, the concern building in your voice, making Hobie chuckle. “What are we going to do with all of them?”

“We can always collect them and sell them or whatever, you know?” Hobie chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…”

“In the meantime, we can always enjoy this beautiful scene, what do you say?”

“You’re way too calm for someone who has his bedroom full of flowers…”

“You made them. They’re beautiful. I don’t see the issue, basically a work of art,” He said looking at you over his shoulder, as you rolled your eyes playfully at him.

“Hobie, pollen give you allergies,”

“Sleeping on a flower bed one night isn’t going to kill me,” He pointed out. “Besides, ever since the spider thing, I get less allergies from flowers,” He said lifting a finger up, making you chuckle.

“Fine! You win this argument!” You chuckled.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, I love you too”

“That’s why I don’t mind the flowers. Because you made them,”

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Hobie’s cheek before you continued tending to the last two wicks.

“Thank you,” You said.

“For what?”

“Being you,” You sighed. “I’m not precisely fascinated with all the flowers in the bedroom, but the fact that you are, makes me feel better”

“Why, you’re welcome, sweet’eart. Thank you for helping me with my hair,” He said looking at you and giving you a cheeky smirk.

“Anytime,”

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 HORROPEDIA - "night terrors"

Horropedia x Reader. 2.3 words. fluff, comfort Everyone knows better than to intrude on Horropedia's all-nighters and horror film marathons - even so, he doesn't mind interruptions, not if it's you. Maybe these movies can wait.

writing for Horropedia is the real nightmare bc all I wanna do is expand on little headcanons I have about him, so I end up losing the entire plot and reason I started the oneshot in the first place

EITHER WAY its done <3 another one for the sleepytime saga

The clock reads 3:00 AM - the witching hour begins now.

The weather outside seems to agree with him. Darkness falls over the wilderness that surrounds the house, with thick, grey clouds above and just the right amount of rain and wind. Enough to set a proper atmosphere for a horror movie marathon, but not as to distract him with the constant banging of windows and doors being closed shut.

Horropedia feels around the table for his snacks, eyes glued to the screen in front of him, the only source of light in his room. He's chosen one of his favorite films to begin with and ease himself into a long list of terrible B-movie slashers.

It's hard to eat popcorn when all he can focus on is reciting the dialogue from memory, in perfect harmony with the characters. Some kernels fall to the ground, entirely forgotten. The title drops with a bright, bloody font and the music swells up. He feels right at home.

But then, he hears it.

Faint steps. A gentle knock on his door.

Is this it? Is this the moment he waited for all these years? To live through some unusual and inexplicable event? Oh, but it's not even his birthday!

Horropedia pauses the movie and clears his throat. "Yes? Who is it?"

The door slowly creaks open. He swears it was locked.

There's no one outside in the empty hallway.

Silence settles in and his mind begins to race. It's too late for any of his usual guests - neither Tooth Fairy nor Blonney would go out of their way to find him at this hour. By now, everyone should be asleep. Even the more rebellious and nocturnal guests preferred to mind their business as soon as the night came.

The smile on Horropedia's face widens at this. He doesn't know who could be out there at this ungodly hour, trying to lure him outside, but he wanted to find out badly.

All he needs to do is follow the script. Oh, but what sort of protagonist could he play? There was a big difference between an innocent question like "Who's out there?" and a demand like "Show yourself!"

Full of giddy energy, Horropedia opens his mouth, ready to deliver his best performance, when a small voice interrupts him.

"Oh, thank fuck, you're actually awake."

A familiar head peeks out from the door frame - it's you, his partner in crime! The disappointment on his face must be visible even in this light, because he hears you huff in immediate protest. Horropedia sighs, long and hard, feeling his soul leave his body.

"Hey, come on. Can I come in or not?"

"You already know the answer to that," Horropedia crawls back onto the sofa, dropping face down onto the pillows and blankets with loud thud. First you make his heart leap in vain, and now you want to ask unnecessary questions?

Perhaps he wasn't clear enough in previous interactions with you - but as his partner in crime and closest confidant, you should know better. This is an exclusive privilege he bestowed upon you and only you: to come and go as you please and treat his room like your own.

When he speaks again, it comes out muffled and defeated. "Mwake fure to cwose the dwoor..."

"...What?"

Horropedia raises his head from the pillow, glasses crooked and hairpins all over his head, doing a poor job at keeping the hair out of his eyes.

"Door!" And then he plops back down.

He knows its silly and irrational to get so worked up over something like this, a small interruption, just a little setback in his carefully scheduled night. All he needs to do is count and breathe.

One, two, three. It's not that bad, he can simply rewind the movie and start from the beginning. Besides, now he has you here! The perfect companion for a marathon. Four, five, six. It's hard to breathe properly when all he's getting is a lungful of couch, but soon, that frustration in his chest dissipates. Seven, eight, nine...Ten.

Horropedia turns his head to look at you, standing in front of him after locking the door.

"So, to what do I owe this visi- OW?!" He yelps in surprise once you pinch his leg, and he recoils and sits up on instinct, rubbing that sore spot. "Hey! That was uncalled for! What happened to our peace treaty?"

"Yeah, but now I get to sit down, so it's a win."

There's something off in the way you speak - it's your tone, lower and raspier than usual. Horropedia leans closer to you, squinting. Something else catches his eye, other than the way you avoid looking at him.

"Why are your eyes red and puffy?"

Even though all he has is the faint light of the TV screen, he sees it. The red marks in your eyes, the dried tears across your cheeks - you should've known by now, it's impossible to hide anything from his watchful and attentive eyes.

Horropedia's initial thoughts are allergies, but it seems unlikely in a closed space like this house. He remains still as a statue as your expression turns into one of shock, the question catching you entirely off-guard. When you fully turn away from him to rub your eyes, he knows something is wrong.

"On second thought, that was a very dumb question. Allow me to rectify - why were you crying?" He receives no response, and so he settles for finding an answer himself.

There's the uneven rise and fall of your chest, as if you were trying very hard to hold in a second wave of tears. Your hands have turned into trembling fists on your lap, and your shoulders are tense. Did you argue with someone? No, there's no one awake at this hour. In the stillness of the night, everyone would've heard it, anyway. For you to be in such a state, seeking him out this late at night...

"Ah," Horropedia's eyes soften as it all clicks into place. "Another dumb question. But third time's the charm, my friend! May I try again?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. His hand slides into your own, gently forcing you to stop clenching your fists and interlocking your fingers and his together with ease. Like this, he can hold you steady and ground you back to reality.

"Was it a very scary nightmare?"

The way Horropedia speaks is often louder than what is commonly expected, rarely changing from that perpetual matter-of-factly, cheeky tone he's known for. But now? He's gentle, endeared by the way you stubbornly continue to hide from him.

There's a nod, and you finally turn to face him. It's a heartbreaking sight, with your face tilted down, looking up at him like you've done something wrong. You allow your hair to fall over your eyes in one last effort to conceal this vulnerable moment, but Horropedia won't allow it.

Now that he's older, Horropedia finds it difficult and, at times, stupid to cry over things he knows aren't real - those nonsensical dreams caused by watching too many horror movies, reading scary stories before bedtime or any lingering events from his daily routine. But when he was just a child waking up in the middle of the night, tears streaming down his eyes, his first instinct was the same: to run as fast as he could into his grandfather's arms, the one person who could chase away all those night terrors.

Tonight is the night he steps up to reverse those roles. Horropedia wants nothing more than to offer you that same feeling of safety.

"There's three things we can do right now. One, we can pretend nothing happened and you can join me to watch movies until the sun rises or until we pass out from exhaustion, whichever comes first. Two, we can go raid the kitchen right now for some comfort food - lucky for you, I know where everyone hides their favorite snacks."

He pauses just enough to pique your interest, giving you one of his mysterious, cheeky smiles. "Three, you lay down with me and tell me all about this nightmare you had, so I can judge and nitpick all the scary elements in it."

That earns a little chuckle from you, a massive improvement from your pitiful expression back then - that's enough to seal your fate.

Horropedia slowly takes off his glasses and sets them on the table, before pulling you into a hug and falling onto the plush cushions. He makes sure to lay by the edge of the couch with you nestled safely inside, his body fully shielding you from the light of the TV screen. There's just enough space to lay down together like this, as long as you remain pressed up against his chest.

This is a first for him, for someone who struggles with this type of contact and rarely initiates it, and yet it feels as natural as breathing when it comes to you. It feels right, and he guesses he must be doing something right when you nuzzle and curl up into him, content and comfortable.

There's no trace of that fear from before. That tense atmosphere is fully gone, replaced with something that feels just like home - it's like he's 13 again, staying up late at night, having fun and doing things that the Foundation would never approve of, those illicit sleepovers under the safety of his blanket. But this time, he has you by his side.

Horropedia is painfully aware of his lack of skill when it comes to romance - he still pets your head the same way one would pet a dog rather than a person - but he can't bring himself to care in the slightest about all these rules and guidelines when he hears you laugh and complain about his cold hands on the small of your back. Then, he feels you poke at his monster slippers with your foot.

"You're still wearing these?" Before he can reply, you kick them off and they fall unceremoniously onto the floor. "They're so lame."

Horropedia deadpans. "You literally have a matching pair."

"Yeah, some nerdy nerd gave them to me."

He realizes you're joking when you avoid his eyes in an attempt to hide that smug grin, choosing to trace the colorful patterns and slasher killers depicted on his shirt instead. Somehow, he feels his heart skip a beat at this.

"Hey! I don't recall giving you the fourth option of making fun of me all night! Now, will you share that nightmare you had, or should we wait until I die from the suspense?"

This time, you're the one who catches him off-guard by cupping his face and planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. Feeling the warmth rise from his neck to the tip of his ears, Horropedia is left momentarily speechless. Perhaps he still needs a little more time to ease into this whole physical touch thing. Nonetheless, he remains docile under your touch, especially when you begin to play with his hair.

"It's funny," you begin speaking, carefully untangling the hairclips out of that mess of brown hair, undoing his ponytail. "I can't even remember what it was about, at least not all of it. It just feels... Like it was something very dumb, even if it made me cry. I guess it's that whole thing you keep saying, about how psychological horror is scarier because there's no actual tangible monster or creature or whatever to blame for everything."

"Thank you! Finally, someone who thinks alike! The whole fear factor is greatly reduced when you can see the origin of all these supernatural or scary, inexplicable events. Humanity's biggest enemy is their own mind, and to us arcanists is our emotions. That's why, to some people, ghosts are scarier than robbers - which makes sense, despite being entirely illogical at the same time..."

It's hard to stop once he gets going, and so Horropedia continues talking, so immersed in his own thoughts and theories that he doesn't even register the way you've wrapped both arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest and breathing him in.

Every so often, you give him a weak, drowsy reply and he only realizes you've fallen asleep when all he hears is your gentle snoring. The movie continues to play in the background, but all of his senses are focused on you.

Had it been anyone else, Horropedia would've been offended. But it's you we're talking about. One of the very few people who pay attention to what he says, who cares enough to sit through hours of ramblings and to debate him on things he might've missed or overlooked. Who would never think of changing the way he is.

There's stars in his eyes when he looks down at your sleeping form, absolutely mesmerized. Usually, you're the one helping him through the tedious social interactions, to understand when he might be overstepping or acting rudely. In a sea of blank, emotionless and confusing faces, yours is the one he looks for guidance and solace. When nothing makes sense and he's lost in an abundance of unspoken rules of conduct, discipline and etiquette, your voice is the one that rises above all.

He may not know how to show it, he may not even realize it himself, but his appreciation for you runs deeper than his love for horror. Horropedia is honored to know that, just this once, he was able to help you. That he's the first one you sought out at your most vulnerable.

Horropedia presses his lips to the top of your head - a gentle, feathery kiss as to not disturb your sleep. And he remains there, your anchor to reality, as his eyelids feel heavier and heavier. The last thing he remembers before sleep takes over is your voice, not quite awake and not quite asleep, thanking him.

What are you even thanking him for, silly? Have you forgotten already? It's fine, because Horropedia will always be there to remind you: you can always count on him, no matter what.

[the-pigeon-queen]

Collection of things from my Antichrist Copia AU

Hey, so I've never posted anything like this before, but here we go! I'm actually currently typing a proper fanfic for this AU , so if spoilers for an eventual fic don’t bother you, feel free to keep reading!

Under the read more since this'll probably be long:

Copia is still Sister Imperator’s and Nihil’s biological son – but she conceived him under some fun satanic circumstances (I imagine a scenario like the one in the Dance Macabre music video lol human sacrifice, but throw in some music and an orgy for fun).

So, while Copia isn’t the biological son of the Devil From the Bible, he was still involved in the conception, maybe through Nihil.

Copia grew up in the Clergy – it’s all he’s known, but honestly, he can’t complain! Though he was raised, technically as an orphan, he still got everything he wanted!

Except friends, because those were sort of hard to make…

But still! He’s risen through the ranks with minimal difficulty, and has never really struggled! He genuinely works hard – and he’s proud of himself for it. He’s just unaware of how fixed his path actually is. Since he’s only known success, he does have a bit of an ego.

He’s a nepobaby but he does have genuine talent, and he does work for it.

Ghost is still a band, owned and operated by the Clergy, for the purpose of spreading it’s influence and finances.

Copia, as Cardinal, still takes over as frontman, and becomes Papa when Nihil passes

And he finds out that Sister Imperator is his mom! She’s always been a good boss, how neat is it that she’s his mother, too? It makes all those times he’s accidentally called her mom funny, now, instead of embarrassing.

She had to give him up, you see – but she never let him out of her sight. Even if she never changed any diapers, she was always right there! Always proud of him! That makes it alright, right?

Life goes on at the Ministry after that tour, he grows closer to his Ghouls, he enjoys his success –

But what’s that? There’s one more special ritual that he has to complete in order to officially become Papa? Of course he’ll do it, Sister! Anything you say!

After all, the Clergy gave him a home, and a job, and a life – what’s one more little ritual?

That one little ritual turned out to be rather unpleasant

We’re talking blood sacrifices, immense pain, a forced transformation that wreaks havoc on the body, and the awakening of something, from somewhere deep within him.

He doesn’t adapt well.

As the antichrist/devil warped thing he is, now, he’s a lot more… testy. He’s quicker to anger. He’s moody. He’s horny. All the time. It’s like a second puberty – except he’s in his forties and becoming a demon.

The mental aspect, dealing with new, strong temptations and urges, is hard enough, but there’s also an emotional struggle, too.

The Clergy that raised him did this to him. His mother lied to him. And why? No one will give him straight answers.

There’s the physical side, too – he feels like a freak. He feels wrong in his own skin. His wings hurt his back, he can’t hide his horns, he keeps stepping on his own tail.

He was supposed to have been born with all his demonic features, and grow into them, but he was apparently a late bloomer. And it took a blood sacrifice to crack him open and let out his infernal side.

His Ghouls comfort him and he finds comfort with them.

Eventually he cheers up. He starts making demands of the Clergy, demanding more, demanding better – he’s the antichrist, after all. The Clergy made him, and now it should serve him!

He tries flying! He breaks his legs, but he heals super fast now. So he tries flying again! And this time the only thing he breaks is a window!

He’s starting to feel more comfortable. More right. His urges are easier to handle. He’s singing again. He starts to feel happy again.

:)

The Clergy doesn't like that he's gaining a backbone, so they attempt a binding ritual to force him further under their control.

Said ritual involves crucifying his three brothers.

The Clergy is thwarted, and Copia takes off with his Ghouls and brothers to go do their own thing

And that's the outline I have so far :'] if you have any questions feel free to ask! I'd love to talk about it more lol

Right now the fic is Copia x poly ghouls just cause

[veryinactiveartist]

Moodboard & Fic Pitch

Pre TLOU!Joel Miller × f!Reader

The Last Of Us

Moodboard made by me

Sweetness & Lighting: Series Synopsis

It's 1993 in central Texas, and things are as well as they could be for a single father, Joel Miller. That's if you don't include his struggling financial situation and the grueling effects of his new construction job. But now it's summer, Sarah won't be occupied in a classroom setting for some time, leaving him without proper care to watch Sarah while he works.

With his new dilemma, Joel couldn't help but vent to his little brother, Tommy, who for once offered a solution; with no other choice, he figured it was worth a shot. Hire a babysitter, but she so happens to be one of Tommy's friends who's a recent graduate. Joel worried about the cost of hiring, but Tommy insisted she was a generous spirit who would gladly help with little cost. Once she knew his situation, Tommy was right. He has never been so thankful to welcome a stranger into his home, even if he still has reservations.

Little did he know, Tommy's friend had already become quite smitten with Joel the moment she first laid eyes on him but planned to keep it to herself. She's only here to do her job and it's not like Joel would like her back. But he did. It took a bit of time but once he realized it, he fell hard. He just knew he couldn't let you go once the summer was over. Why not keep her employed longer. He could admit his feelings at some point. Right?

Tags/Warnings: Idk if I can list this as a slow burn given this probably won't be more than 20 chapters. Eventual smut, masturbation >:3 but mainly plot. Minor Social commentary. Semi-frequent 80's pop culture references (mainly music). Mild cursing. Rom-Com adjacent fic(I will try). Virgin reader (Joel will be ready😏). Single dad Joel. Scenes that depict bullying. (for both the reader and Sarah). Use of original characters. The reader is 21. Joel is 25/turns 26. Sarah is roughly around 6. Lowkey Devious Sarah/Sarah shenanigans(u know how kids are). Texas geography references. Possible holiday plotlines (Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year) fic timeline spans over 7 months.

Author Notes & Rambles

Lord, I have so many fic ideas that I must write 😤. I actually shared this idea with a mutual while back, so this one is a bit more personal. This will probably be the first series I write when we get to 2025. As far as I know, this won't be anything too crazy, the outline I'm working on right now ranges from 14 - 20 chapters. I'm trying to give myself some room to stay within that frame I've given myself but we'll see what happens.

As of now, I don't wanna share too much about what I have planned,, but I also wanna share everything jdjkdjs. This will be a "slow burn" in a sense, but it'll be a short series, so idk if it fits here but oh well. However, the smutting won't happen later on in the fic as I will be focusing on Joel and the reader actually becoming friends because they deserve it

I already started making a playlist for this as inspo because I can't without listening to music tbh so that's been really fun. So I can't wait for when that comes out and it will be just music from that period and songs referenced in the fic, So all 1993 and going back a bit further to give the reader insert a bit of range. There'll be some mild pop culture references like movies but mostly music, and I will try not to be excessive as I know that can be annoying in movies these days. Bubblebee

I'd like to thank all the pictures of mid-20s Pedro Pascal before I go. I wouldn't have been here without him. 😭😭😭

[crystalizedcryolite]

/vent??

I am.. so sick of all this a/i stuff

Its just wrong- it takes away the beauty of all art forms, whether its writing, art, or music.

Generative a/i, character a/i, doesn't matter. It still steals from actual artists. It still steals from good, hard work, and for what? Roleplay? Free time?

It could've been great, really. Instead of using a/i to do the mundane- like chores, or using it to solve something revolutionary in the field of science and medicine, they use it for.. "art." For uncanny-valley, cocomelon-type pictures. For incorrect information in graphics AND in writing. We don't want a/i to draw and write for us so we can do chores (I saw this in a tweet once), we want a/i to do our chores so we can draw and write.

And I'm so, so sick of people acting like its a good thing, like using generative a/i is justifiable in anyway, or just cause others may be using it.

It's everywhere, now. My friend -idk if we're friends anymore, honestly- uses c-a/i and swears it's "just for roleplay," the pastor at church used generative a/i to get a picture of something from the Bible, and students at school uses ChatGPT to get the job done.

Don't they see how damaging it is to not only the art industry, but to the world?

C-a/i is never accurate to the characters they portray. They steal from fics and turn it into their generative slop. It's not even good slop! The grammar? Punctuation? Proper sentences? Don't need that, apparently! In fact, that very same "friend" showed me a screenshot of c-a/i messing up by saying Tails (from Sonic the Hedgehog) is the only one who'd be seen riding a motorcycle. And any STH fan would know that its not Tails, it's Shadow who rides a motorcycle. Tails rides a plane.

A/i "art" is even worse. I've seen how inaccurate the final stuff could be. A baby bird doesn't look like a real one when generated through that slop. It's actually damaging to how we see information. Not only that, but the "art" generated is still so, so harmful to actual artists. Who needs passion, anyway? Who needs love put into art, anyway? When generating an a/i image, you put love and passion... where, exactly? In the prompt box?

I'll explain this in hypotheticals.

Its the year 2030. You wake up and begin a brand new day.

You open a book and cringe. This doesn't look like a good plot. This doesn't look like a plot, at all?

You learn that it's written through character a/i.

You turn the TV on. All the cartoons you used to love is gone. An uncanny "cartoon" took its place, with soulless eyes and a robotic voice. You turn the TV off and go outside.

But wait- the world is.. crumbling?! That's right- A/I is bad for the Earth! It's ACTUALLY damaging the world!

And somehow- somehow- you develop a sickness, so you go to the hospital to get it checked out.

To your horror, the doctor merely shrugs and says that he doesn't know what sickness you have.

"But how could this be?! You're a doctor! You're supposed to know these things!"

You find out that the doctor used ChatGPT to get through college, and didn't actually perceive the information required.

Then you die. The speeches people read out for your funeral were generated through ChatGPT. Truly a terrible way to die.

People need to understand just why all this a/i nonsense is bad. I feel like they go, "yeah, a/i is bad" and turn around to their a/i roleplays and ChatGPT, ready to defend themselves for using that slop.

To the mentioned "friend", to the mentioned pastor, and to the students who may or may not read this;

I wish I could tell you just how bad this a/i stuff is. I wish you'd understand. I wish you'd listen.

I wish generative a/i never existed.

[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter 15

Everything will be Okay

series masterlist

Previous part: Cinnamon Roll Next Part: Crawl Home to You

Word Count: 6,979

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of medical equipment, loss, abuse, PTSD, anxiety and depression.

"This is the worst thing I've ever done" Steve complained, puffing out short winded breaths as he worked at the table opposite you.

He decided he wanted to learn how to bake bread after watching you do it so many times. The patiences and techniques behind the art intrigued him, and there was no one better to learn from than you, the best of the best.

You laughed as you watched him struggle to knead the dough on the floured counter facing yours. His cheeks were turning pink and his dough was still shaggy and lumpy, he was completely envious of yours already becoming smooth and bouncy. "Don't look at mine, it's unfair to you. I have experience, comparison is going to kill all your confidence."

"My arms hurt" Steve emphasized.

"Your arms pulled an in-flight helicopter into the top of a building, and single handedly ended World War II. I'm pretty sure they can handle an artisan loaf, Baby." You smiled.

"How long have we been kneading?" He puffed out.

You peaked at the clock, "mmmm, 3 minutes."

"How long do we need to do this?"

"Usually 10"

"Okay, well, you must have arms of steel because this is impossible."

"I believe in you!" You encouraged him. "Use the heels of your palms, push the dough out then pull it back. You can even go diagonally, side to side."

"You're not even out of breath?" He noted in disbelief. "I feel like I'm asthmatic again."

"Do you need an inhaler? I'm sure I can find you one" A giggle slipped past your lips.

"You're a super soldier." Steve stated, his arms coming to a stand still to take a break. "There's no way someone can just do this."

"Here, let's swap. I got a good start on this one so it'll be easier for you." You said walking over to his side of the table, and taking over his dough while he moved over to yours.

"See, much easier. Now I'm a bread master!" He exclaimed, working with your dough that was already almost completely smooth rather than his shaggy mess.

"I knew you could do it! Great job, Stevie" You smiled.

"Thank you, thank you." He accepted your compliment.

A comfortable silence fell between you two as the sound of music filled your ears, you were obviously very concentrated on fixing the monstrosity of a dough pile Steve had left you.

It was sticking to every square inch of your hands, yet also incredibly crumbly and dry. You had no idea how he even went about creating such a substance, but you sure as hell were going to make it work, and you definitely weren't going to say anything about it.

He knew it wasn't correct, it was written all over your face but that made him happy. Watching you try to work with the crumbly goo with furrowed eyebrows and a smile that you tried to hold back warmed his heart, you were always so kind and encouraging.

"So..." Steve broke the silence.

"So?" You acknowledged.

"I was thinking."

"Oh gosh, that's scary..." You joked.

"Our anniversary passed not too long ago..." He mentioned, causing you to look up at him with a fond look on your face.

"That was six months ago" You pointed out, unsure if not too long was the proper description of how much time had actually passed.

Once all of the scary bumps that came along with establishing a new relationship were smoothed out, unlike the dough beneath your hands, your relationship with Steve was so smooth it glided by effortlessly and fast.

The concept of time since the blip in general felt quite odd, it felt like five years had passed by in the blink of an eye, yet the way of living with only half the population was so normal and routine now you couldn't imagine a time in which you lived a normal life before the blip.

That's exactly how you felt about your time with Steve as well. He moved in permanently next door, then before you knew it his lease was up and he moved in to your house. The spaces that were once yours were now yours and Steve's.

Four and a half years deep into your official relationship with the man and you couldn't even remember a time in which his easel wasn't always displaying a half completed work of art in the corner of the living room and there wasn't a Captain America suit tucked away in the very back of the closet, hiding away in a garment bag.

The two of you created the simple, care free life of your dreams. One in which the biggest struggle you faced on the daily basis was keeping the bakery stocked despite the ever growing crowds, and missing Steve whenever he was away on business to the compound in New York.

"So our anniversary is coming up!"'He enthused.

You laughed at his change of words, "only six months away!"

"Can you believe that four and a half years ago I waltzed in here for a cookie, and that simple choice single handedly changed both of our lives?" He questioned.

"Wow, kneading bread makes you so philosophical." You noted. "What a great choice you made, just goes to show that cookies really are the better part of life."

"You're the better part of my life, sunflower." He purposely cheesed causing you to look back up at him once more.

"How sweet" You acknowledged. "If my hands weren't covered in dough I'd reach up and boop your nose."

He laughed while he continued kneading your loaf that he was definitely going to claim as his now. "Maybe we could spend our half-anniversary in New York?"

Steve was going through a phase in which you could've never ever predicted, he hated going up to the compound now. He dreaded work trips, he hated how cold his room in the compound always seemed to feel, he despised all the memories that came to mind when he walked around.

From what you could understand through multiple conversations about this, he just didn't like being away from you. Being away from you when the blip happened and having no control over your arrest traumatized him in a way he would never admit, but in a way you could see in his eyes every time he had to leave town.

Regardless of what it was that made him resent the compound so much, you knew that it was a whole lot easier for him when you tagged along. So now he found a lot of creative reasons to try and drag you to New York.

Each reason was more creative than the last, and you said yes every single time he asked. At this point in your relationship, you were pretty sure you've spent over four months time in New York and it was starting to feel like a second home.

"You know you don't really need a reason to get me to New York right?" You smiled. "I'd love to spend our half anniversary with you, and I'll go with you to wherever you need to go."

"But coming up with a reason is half the fun" Steve admitted.

"Is this fun?" You questioned, motioning to the dough in your hands.

"This is exhausting!" He answered honestly, earning a laugh from you.

"You know what I love about going to the compound with you?"

"That Nat is there?" He questioned.

"That I get to learn about all the cool things you do for once. It's like going to the Avengers bakery and kneading the Captain America loaf!" You explained. "But yeah, I do love seeing Nat."

Steve giggled at your analogy, loving every second of watching your skillful hands try their absolute hardest to make his faulty dough pile work. "I'm always worried that you might be bored whenever I drag you with me."

"Bored?!" You emphasized. "My love, I'm a civilian in the Avengers compound. There's absolutely nothing boring about that."

"Okay, so next week you'll come with me?" He asked just to make sure.

"Of course" you reassured.

"Woohoo!" He shook his shoulders and hips in a little happy dance, hands sill focused on the dough. "Best day ever!"

You laughed at his response, "if this is the best day ever, then I think we should get out more."

"Okay, now is your chance to be honest with me." Steve prompted. "Does that dough lump have any potential at all of becoming anything close to a loaf of bread?"

"You know I love you very, very much?" You smiled, batting your eyelashes.

"Of course I do." Steve giggled.

"We're gonna have to squish this." You told him honestly. "But the bright side is that you're doing so well kneading that loaf, it'll be the prettiest, glutinous loaf to ever come out of this kitchen!"

"You said that so nicely, I'm not even upset about it" Steve shrugged, prompting you to smile.

You walked over to him and rocked up on your tippy toes before smacking a kiss to his cheek. "You're wonderful, we'll try again soon."

Before you knew it, you were right back in New York, smack dap in the compound. Whenever you were here you completely understood that Steve was here to work, so you never expected him to keep you entertained by any means. So you always brought your laptop and took care of business from the comfort of his room or the living room depending on what him and Nat were up to that day.

And 100% of the times you stepped foot into the Avengers home, whoever was lingering around always asked for you to bake them something, and you were always happy to say yes.

This particular night, Nat requested a chocolate chip cheesecake. After going to the store to get everything you needed, making all the parts and popping it in the oven, you started to do the dishes.

Muscular forearms wrapped around your stomach from behind, and the front of Steve's body warmly pressed against your back.

"How's it going, baby?" He questioned.

"Good, almost done in here." You responded while enjoying every second of his embrace. "How are you? Sleepy?"

"So tired." He confirmed. "I have a few hours of work left to get ready for the support group tomorrow but I think Nat is wrapping up for the night. You'll be okay?"

"Of course, I still have to input payroll and enter the supply delivery invoice for the bakery so I have plenty to do." You grinned, wiping your hands off so you could turn around to face him. When you did, you couldn't help but to admire him. His hair, his cute outfit, the fond yet tired look in his eyes. Reaching up, you squeezed his shoulders to try and relax his tense posture as his hands made their way to your hips. "You're so beautiful."

His cheeks turned pink before dropping his head onto your shoulder. "You're beautiful-er."

"Why does it have to be a competition? Just accept your handsomeness and move on" You giggled at his shyness, even after four and a half years together.

"Becauseeeee" he complained. "I'm lucky to have you, and I'm so happy you're here. Then, you're always really nice to me and all the people here that I love and I just can't even process how sweet you are."

You smiled before you both mutually leaned in for a kiss. "I promise you that I feel like the lucky one."

"Impossible." He shook his head in denial with his cheeks stilly adorably rosy. "Thank you for baking for us."

"Anytime, you know I love it."

Steve nodded in agreement. "I'll see you in a few hours?"

"I'll be here." You gave his shoulders another good squeeze. "We'll get those pretty eyes of yours some good rest."

By the time Steve finished up work and made his way back to the living quarters, it was already way past the bedtime he subconsciously made for himself to keep up with living with a baker. 10 at night felt like he had pulled an all nighter, and it seems as though that's how you felt as well considering he found you and Nat asleep on the couch.

Empty plates on the coffee table with Oreo crumbs being the only evidence of the cheesecake you made hours prior, and a movie that Steve had never even heard of playing on the TV provided the only source of light in the big space.

You and Nat had obviously gotten close and comfortable with each other, the shared blanket across your laps and your head plunked over onto Nat's shoulder with her head on top of yours made Steve smile and feel endlessly happy.

As much as you loved Nat, Steve knew Nat needed every drop of love and friendship you could give her. You both knew she was struggling ever since the blip, she spent every waking moment trying to monitor the world and find a solution. Steve didn't even know she was capable of settling down enough for even just a few hours to be able to fall asleep while watching a movie in the first place. You weren't just his sunflower, but everyone's who was lucky enough to earn your love.

Though he hated to break up the adorable scene in front of him, he was just as tired as the two of you evidently were and knew he should get you to bed.

He started by waking up Nat considering you were stuck beneath her. She was a light sleeper so it didn't take more than gently shaking her arm to wake her up, and she came to her senses quickly enough to immediately recognize what Steve was about to do.

"Good morning." Nat grinned, not lifting her head from the top of yours.

"Morning." Steve smiled. "Any chance I could get my girl back so I can send you two off to bed?"

"No. She's mine now." Nat denied. "Shes so cute and cuddly like a little puppy."

"You can have her back in the morning, but if she doesn't get some real sleep she gets a little grumpy." Steve bargained.

"Fine, but she's mine tomorrow. We're gonna go run some errands and grab lunch together."

"That sounds great, you could use a few hours away from this place." Steve encouraged.

"Just for that comment, I'm staying home." Nat joked.

"I will literally pay for both of you to go get your nails done if that means you'll get some fresh, non recirculated air." Steve sassed.

"A manicure and I get to take your girl out? Sign me up." She continued joking.

"The only conditions are that you go get some sleep and let me have nighttime custody of her so that she can get some sleep too."

"You're such a dad." She stated while carefully nudging your head off of her shoulder, then slowly standing up when she had successfully moved you off of her.

"Can I get you anything before you head off to bed?" Steve checked in.

"No, I'm okay. Thank you." She approached him and squeezed his shoulder before he just pulled her in for a hug anyways. "Goodnight, Rogers."

"Night, Romanoff." He reciprocated before letting go and she walked off into her room.

Now, he had you. His precious little lump on the couch. The dishes on the coffee table could be taken care of in the morning, and the TV would auto shut off in an hour or two. So he picked you up and held you tightly in his arms, and you immediately snuggled into neck.

He could tell you woke up at some point considering you started leaving little kisses to his exposed skin before he made it to his room. You were already in your pajamas ready to go, so he gently laid your down on the bed before he changed into some pajama shorts and brushed his teeth before laying down next to you.

Surprisingly, you were still awake and quick to pull the blankets over the two of you as you settled into each other. Appreciating the warmth of his soft bare skin, you laid your head on his chest and wrapped your arm tightly around his stomach, hand resting on the side of his rib cage.

You placed a little kiss to his collar bone before propping yourself up a bit on your arm to spark up a conversation you needed to get off your mind before you could truly get some restful sleep.

"How was the rest of your day, honey?" You questioned as one of his hands slipped up the back of your crewneck, the other drew little circles onto your hip.

"It was okay, pretty routine." He responded softly. "How's Nat doing?"

"That poor girl needs to get a life away from all of this." You sighed.

"I know" Steve nodded in agreement. "It's really hard to take a step back when you feel directly responsible, but it's not healthy. I've been encouraging her to get out more but she doesn't listen."

"I invited her to stay with us in Greenwood in a few weeks, hopefully she takes me up on that." You moved your hand up to his chest.

"That would be really fun." Steve grinned. "Did you have fun tonight?"

"Mhm, I mostly worked the whole time though." You admitted. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something before we sleep."

"What's going on?" He asked, you could tell he was paying a little closer attention now.

"So I ran some numbers on profit and what not, and just for shits and giggles I reached out to my lender and contractor to see if this was even a possibility when I had the idea but now that it's looking very possible, I wanted to see how you felt about this..."

"About what?" He raised an eyebrow in anticipation.

"What would you think about me opening a second location of the bakery?" You asked.

His face immediately lit up in a big smile. "Darling, that's incredible! You should absolutely do it if you feel comfortable enough."

"I do feel really good about it." You confirmed. His happy response made your heart soar. When you first opened Nice to be Kneaded, your last partner ridiculed you every single day. He thought the idea of owning a business would simply be too much of a challenge for you. He told you that you'd never succeed, that it would go under and cause debts for the rest of your life. Though you were at a point in your relationship with Steve where you never doubted his ability to be a kind person, his kindness still made you happy every single day. "The reason I really wanted to ask you is because I was advised the best location to break ground in would be New York."

His big smile grew even wider, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with adorable smile lines. "Are you for real?"

"Yeah" you giggled at his response.

"That makes me so happy!" He pouted his lip and furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm so proud of you."

"So I take it that you think this is a good idea?" The smile never left your face.

"I think it's the best idea you've ever had." He exaggerated.

"Then I guess I'll give it the green light first thing tomorrow morning." You settled the issue then settled back into his body.

The two of you talked for a little while about what life would look like with another bakery in New York. Both of you traveled back and forth so often now that dividing your time between two places was already second nature. He even pitched getting the two of you an apartment somewhere between the city and the compound so you both felt more at home when away from Greenwood. Though you loved the idea, you encouraged him to let all these thoughts settle for a day or two until you had a better idea on the logistics of this new endeavor. Besides, it was already late and you were both tired, there was nothing you could even arrange until the morning.

Though you felt settled and completely relaxed snuggled up to him, you played with his hair and tried to get him to relax too. You could feel his tension, but it was normal. No matter how exhausted he was, if he was at the compound his mind was busy and never quite turned off. His thoughts shifted from the happy thoughts of a future where the two of you hopped from bakery to bakery, big city Avenging to a small town simple life to something that had nothing to do with the sweet girl in bed giving him the most delightful cuddles he could've ever wanted.

You knew he was enjoying spending time with you even if his mind was up in the clouds, his hand that never stopped drawing shapes into your back told you that loud and clear.

"What are you thinking about, love?" You asked.

He let out a sigh and his eyes never left the ceiling, then his lips pressed into a straight line, then a forced grin and he finally looked at you. "What do we do if we can't find a way to undo what Thanos did?"

"What do we do," You motioned to the two of you "or what do the Avengers do?"

"Both. Either." He said, desperate to hear the right answer he couldn't find.

"Well I think both have the same answer." You shrugged. "Acceptance, then moving on."

He gave you the most adorable stink eye you've ever seen, so cute you had to hold back a giggle. "Why does everyone say that?"

"You preach it every time you hold a support group, no?" You questioned.

"That's different."

"How so?"

"Civilians aren't responsible for what happened, they deserve to live their lives exactly how they would if this never happened." He explained.

Whenever he spoke about the situation, you could feel a genuine pain in your chest. His feelings about the snap were like a rollercoaster. Some days, he could see the benefits, he could almost understand why Thanos did what he did. He could go about his day with acceptance, go to sleep with the intention of continuing to rebuild tomorrow. Then sometimes he'd wake up that next morning feeling the weight of every blipped person on his shoulders. As if he was the one who decided this needed to happen. That weight seemed to double every time he was in New York.

So with an ache in your heart, you tried to put a bandage over his. "Right now are you looking for the truth, or are you looking for reassurance?"

He groaned at your level-headedness, before shoving his face into your neck. "I'm looking for anything or anyone to just tell me it's going to be okay."

Understanding now that he needed reassurance instead of actual logical advice, you caressed the back of his head with your hand and used your other arm to hold him safe and sound against you. "Of course it's going to be okay, sweet boy.

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be so... grim, I just- I have to be strong all day every day for everyone else and sometimes you're the only one who can be strong for me." He admitted.

You kissed the top of his head a few times before providing the words he probably really needed to hear. "Life was okay yesterday, and the day before that, and it'll continue being okay tomorrow, and every day after that just like it has been for the past five years. Nobody blames you for what happened, and all of you guys deserve to move on too, not just civilians. The ground is still under your feet, the sky is still above your head and I'll never leave your side. The sun and moon are still taking turns, so I'm pretty confident when I say that everything is fine."

"That was great" Steve mumbled into your neck.

"Yeah? You feel any better?" You questioned with a smile.

"Mhm, I'm gonna use that in the support group tomorrow."

You smiled, though he couldn't see it before squeezing the back of his neck. "I love you, you're not going to bring back half the population from bed."

"I love you too, should I get up?"

"Go to sleep" You whispered directly into his ear, earning his sweet laugh that you loved so much.

"You first, traitor." Steve said playfully.

"Traitor?! Why am I a traitor?" You asked, feigning offense.

"You we're cuddling Natasha and not me." Steve fake cried.

You laughed before stating "Excuse me?! You've kissed Nat before, so I don't want to hear anything about my cuddles, sir!"

"Ugh?!" Steve was immediately taken back. "She kissed me and it was for a mission! Don't even start with that!"

You couldn't help but continue laughing at how flustered that statement made him. "Poor, Stevie! Your cheeks are so pink."

"I miss 10 seconds ago when you didn't bring that up." He pouted, a smile prevailing past his attempts to pretend like this conversation wasn't funny. "It was a life or death escape situation and we've never done anything romantic since then, okay?"

"I'm not bothered, baby" You continued smiling while prying his hands away from covering his face. "Were your bothered by our cuddles?"

"No, not at all." He denied. "I actually thought it was really adorable, I was just joking."

"And I think it's really cute that you and Nat shared a smooch" You pinched his cheek between two fingers.

"She implied that I was a bad kisser, by the way." Steve giggled. "So, neither of us enjoyed that experience."

You laughed at the confession before cooing, "awww poor, Stevie. Did that hurt your pride?"

"It wasn't a fair assessment, I wasn't ready for it." He defended himself.

"Exactly, you're a great kisser." You smoothed over the review that obviously stuck around with him for a while. "I know from experience!"

"Thanks, Baby. I appreciate your input on the matter." He gave your hip a nice squeeze.

"I'll be sure to talk to Nat about it in the morning to try and sway her opinions on it ." You joked.

"Absolutely do not do that" His eyebrows raised in horror.

You laughed once more before cupping his face and laying a long one on him. "I would never."

"Good, cause I think the sleepiness has taken over the both of our brains and made us a little crazy." He smiled.

You rested your head back onto its rightful spot on his shoulder, your hand rested over his heart and his free hand that wasn't on your back lovingly wrapped around your wrist. "Are you going to be able to shut your brain off long enough to fall asleep?"

"Of course" He appeased your worries about him. "I always sleep well when you're with me. You're like a little sleeping pill, the second you fall asleep on me, you put me to sleep too."

"Cheese ball" You poked fun at him with a content smile as you closed your eyes and wrapped the blankets tighter around the both of you.

"I might be cheesy, but I always will be. And I'm proud of it!" He agreed.

"I love it so much." You admitted. "And I love you so much."

"I love you too." He kissed the top of your head. "Goodnight, Sunflower."

"Sweet dreams, Stevie."

Not even two whole minutes of silence and attempts at sleeping went by before Steve gasped.

"Wait... are you asleep?" He asked, using his hands to dramatically shake you. "Wake up! This is important!"

"I'm awake, I'm awake!" You alerted his urgency. "Jeez dude, you're scrambling my brain."

"Oh good! You're awake!" He said. You didn't have to see his face to know he was wearing a big sarcastic smile. Steve's favorite hobby was definitely being a little shit.

"What a blessing." You mumbled.

"I forgot to ask you out on a date tomorrow night!" He enthused.

"Sorry dude, I think we're better just as friends." You carried on the tradition of your favorite inside joke.

"Sooooooo... should I cancel the engagement ring?" He quipped.

Recently the two of you were talking about getting married a lot, and if there was two things you both agreed on it's that a marriage was definitely in the books for the two of you soon, and that being engaged should never be truly be a surprise. Sure, time and place of the proposal as a surprise was the fun part, but both of you setting clear intentions and a well timed future that flowed at a comfortable pace for the two of you was important.

"A date sounds great!" You overly enthused.

"Great! I made dinner reservations without asking first so I'm glad you said yes."

"Risky business, Rogers." You smiled.

"Okay now go to sleep." He giggled.

"You first..." You poked his chest with very low effort.

When the morning came, you were up and out way before Steve was to start your morning with Nat. She wanted to get back to the compound before a planned call with affiliates of the Avengers, so the two of you snuck out before most of the compound was awake. Much like most mornings when you woke up before Steve, you covered him up with the blankets nice and snug, kissed him goodbye, and wished him a great day.

A nice long walk and chat followed by coffee, breakfast, and a nice relaxing manicure had Nat feeling brand new.

You dropped her off at the compound then left again to meet up with a friend of yours that lived pretty close by. While catching up on each others lives for a few hours, Steve called you.

Figuring he didn't realize you were busy, you denied the call to clue him in to text you instead. You often times did this if he needed to get through to you at work. But this time, your sunflower necklace lit up four times, a number that didn't have a code attached, then your phone rang again.

Figuring it was probably important, you excused yourself and quickly picked up the call.

"Hi, baby." You spoke timidly into the phone.

"Hi, I'm sorry to interrupt I know you're busy." He sighed. You could tell by his tone that his brain was fried.

"No worries, is everything okay?" You questioned.

"Remember Scott Lang? Ant-Man?" He asked.

"Yeah, yeah I do." You nodded though he couldn't see you. "He was blipped right?"

"You see, that's the weird part." Steve puffed out a confused chuckle. "He's at the compound. He just... showed up."

"What?!" You said louder than you probably should, earning weird looks from strangers around you.

"Yeah, he was stuck in the quantum realm and now he's here, and we think-" He started but cut himself off to think about how he was going to phrase this without worrying you.

But the pause was deafening. "You think what?"

"I think you should make your way back here whenever you're done with your friend so we can talk about it more."

"That sounds so scary" You admitted.

"No, everything is fine. I promise." He reassured you.

"Should I come home right now?"

"No, baby, it's okay" He tried to calm you down once again. "Nothing to be anxious about. I just think we need to visit Tony and get a few other ducks in a line and I want to make sure I can get you someplace safe before we start looking into this more."

"So you guys found some good hope?" You asked, this time with a smile knowing that's exactly what Steve needed.

"A lot of hope and possibly the craziest pipe dream of all time, but we can get into that when you get here, okay?"

"Okay" You sighed. "Everyone's okay?"

"Everyone is fine." Steve smiled. "I want you to keep having fun with your friend. I'll see you later."

"See you soon. Love you"

"Love you too."

Though he tried his hardest to reassure you that everything was fine, you couldn't clear your head of the endless possibilities of what this could mean for the future of the whole universe. Those thoughts didn't even allow you to fully appreciate or give your undivided attention to your friend, so you called it a day as soon as you could. And when you arrived back at the compound, you immediately spotted Steve sitting outside on a bench.

You could tell his mind was occupied by a billion racing thoughts, his breathing was steady and there was a pinch in his brows.

Approaching slowly and sitting next to him, he wrapped you up in a side hug before kissing your temple and letting you go. "What's going on, Honey?"

He sighed in appreciation as your hand found its way to his back, rubbing long, firm strips up and down to comfort him. "We think we can time travel."

"What?" Your hand stopped in place.

"Go back in time before Thanos, get the stones from a bunch of different points in time, snap again." Steve explained like it was the most simple idea in the world.

"But..... how?" You we're blown away by the possibility, but the biggest part of you was terrified of what that meant for him, the world, and the entire future.

"Something to do with pym particles and a quantum tunnel, I don't really understand it." Steve explained, his mind was wandering miles away from him. "We have Bruce en route to work on that, but we're going to get Tony. Try to assemble the whole team again."

You didn't quite have the words at the moment, nor the time to even process this as a possibility. Whenever you couldn't quite grasp a concept that was much larger than you, but whenever you felt so tiny in the vastness of the universe, Steve was always there to put you on his shoulders and make you feel big again. "How do you feel about this?"

"I feel ready to just get it done." He explained.

"Are you scared?" You plopped your head down onto his shoulder, he nestled his cheek into the crown of your head.

"No" He denied softly. "Are you?"

"If you're not then I'm not" You smiled. That was a lie, but you always tried to not burden him with your own fears.

Though letting him out of your grasp and straight into battles often appeared in your own nightmares, you reeled in your feelings as to not disrupt his own peace. As often as you wanted to tell him to be careful, beg him not to do risky things like go to space in a ship being piloted by a raccoon to kill a titan that killed half the universe, you trusted him. His entire life was rich with risk assessment that only made him more and more successful the more he lived.

So if he wasn't scared, you'd try not to be either.

"Well, maybe that's a lie. Maybe I am a little scared." Steve retracted his statement.

"Well shit" You joked, earning a laugh from the sweet man.

"I'm scared it's not going to work, and I'm scared of putting anything on the line when my only goal for the future is a life with you." He admitted. "Everything else, I'm not scared of."

This time, your arms wrapped him up and didn't let him go. He was letting his Steve Rogers shine through in a place you typically only saw Captain America. Though he would argue that those two people were the same, you thought he was so very wrong.

Steve was still the little guy he once was. Sensitive and gentle, he'd cry over videos of cute animals doing cute things, decorate cookies with you and asked to be cuddled for as long as he could get you to stay still. But Cap... Cap was strong. Nothing could tear him down. When the uniform was on or public and teammates eyes were on him, he had to be the leader. He stood tall, refused to shed a tear regardless of any circumstance thrown his way. Everyone looked at him to guide them through.

You loved both versions of him, and both were truthful of his character, but it was also true that Steve was a version of himself he was only comfortable showing to the people he loved the most.

So you gave Cap the space he needed to be firm and strong, and gave Steve the space he needed to be vulnerable. Sometimes that looked like a little snuggle on a bench outside of the Avengers compound.

Very surface level and as deep down as could be, he knew that Cap couldn't be the fighter he was without you nurturing Steve. He was strong because you were compassionate, and everyday he amounted his power to you.

"I love you so very much," you started.

"But?" He raised an eyebrow, already anticipating the kicker.

"But doing this is exactly what you need in order for you to live the life you want." You explained. "You and I both know you'd live the entire rest of your life with guilt if the Avengers don't find a way to fix this. And though I don't agree that any of this is your fault, I know you feel that burden every single day. So in a certain way, I think for once, this is a great fight for yourself."

He sat and considered it for a second. "I don't have it in me to fight for myself, so I'm going to consider this a fight for you."

"A happy, relaxing future with you is all I want." You kindled his fire. Though you wished he could fight for himself, any incentive to get him through would work in this moment. "And i'd love to see Sam again and meet Bucky."

"I miss them so much" Steve stated, you could hear the sadness in his voice.

You lifted your head to give him a kiss. Your soft lips mingled for a little while before pulling away and resting your forehead against his. "Everything is going to be okay."

"I think so too" He agreed.

"And if it doesn't pan out the way you all hope, then I hope you know that everything will be okay that way too."

"Well that's not an option." He gently shook his head.

"Hard headed!" You pulled away and raised your hand to gently poke him right in the center of his forehead. He laughed, knowing his words would irritate you. "You drive me crazy!"

"I love driving you crazy" His smile prevailed.

"Really? I couldn't tell." You said sarcastically, feeling the effects of his contagious smile.

"And I'd love it even more if I can keep annoying you on our date tonight." He brought up.

"Stevie" Your face softened. "We can reschedule that if you need to, you know I understand."

"No, I definitely don't want to cancel that." He denied firmly. "Not to bring up the past or anything, but the last time I rescheduled a date it didn't turn out too well for me."

"Awwwww" You cooed. "Classic Cap history"

"Yeah, and we're rewriting it because I'm not doing that again" he said with a chuckle.

"I'm more than happy to help you out with that" You agreed, giving his leg a little squeeze. "How's Scott doing? I'm sure this is a lot to process."

"He seems to be doing alright, but that leads me to something Nat and I talked about that I wanted to present to you."

"What's up?"

"It's no secret that you're kind've one of the most amazing and comforting humans alive, and we were supposed to go home in 2 days but..." He took a moment to find the right words. "I'm my best when you're around, and whether you've noticed or not, everyone is happier when you're here. So we were wondering if you could stay a little longer just to kinda help keep spirits up. I know you have the bakery at home but it could be a pretty crucial part in saving half the world."

"I can't imagine I'd have any crucial part in any of that, but I'll stay for you alone." You giggled.

"Obviously I'll bring you home before the time travel happens because it's such unknown territory, I'd want you far away from the compound. But we're going to bring everyone we've got here, including Thor who we heard is going through a rough patch. I think your love would go a far way."

"And cookies" You grinned.

"Cookies would definitely help."

"Can Rocket eat chocolate chips?" You pondered.

"He's a raccoon, not a dog." Steve reminded you.

"That doesn't answer my question." You eyebrow raised. "What about Nebula? Do cyborgs eat food? Ooh! I know Bruce likes chocolate, and Tony likes hazelnut because they had those Ben and Jerry's ice cream flavors so maybe I'll make Nutella cookies so it's the best of both worlds. Do you know what Rhodey likes? I have Nat covered. Thor probably li-"

"Baby, Baby" Steve cut you off with a giggle. "Don't stress yourself out now. You're not here to take care of us, just keep being you"

"This is me." You laughed. "Have you ever seen me not like this?"

"You know what? That's fair." He agreed.

"Ooh! And I bet Nat knows exactly what Clint would want!" You chirped. "...I should call the bakery..."

Next Part: Crawl Home to You

Tag List: @patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @happinessinthebeing @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bitchy-bi-trash @crazyunsexycool @openup-yourmind @selella @kattreffic @benedict-squirtle @magnificentsaladllama @theroyalmanatee @calwitch @avengersinitiative2012 @rogersbarber @daddywattpad4945

[spreadyovrwings]

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