#i literally cleaned as i was baking on sunday

[dokyeomini]

why do parents think they can scare their children out of being mentally ill

[bruhstories]

sweet like honey ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

summary: logan ended up spending his evenings in the bar across the street from your bakery, watching you do your job. he never approached you, never talked to you, but he always kept an eye on you, until he has a bad feeling. pairing: logan x fem!reader warning & content: swearing, violence, reader almost gets assaulted (but logan saves the day), she/her pronouns for reader, wade being wade, unprotected p in v, fluff, angst, lots of baking and mentions of food, slightly ooc logan (if you squint), slow burn, sex in a bakery wc: 6k

a/n: i don't always write, but when i do, it's a fucking thesis. unedited.

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Logan was never a fan of sweets. He hated chocolate, cheesecake, gummy bears — literally anything sweet. The only thing he could barely stomach was tiramisu, and only because it had coffee in it. Other than that, he steered away from sweets like they were the fucking plague.

Yet despite all that, he found himself enjoying the smell of freshly baked croissants, custard donuts, brownies, and whatever goods you baked in your little bakery, conveniently situated across the street from his go-to bar.

Cleverly named Flour Power, it was all pastel both inside and out, with little pots of hyacinths hanging from its window and a big sign above the entrance. Not that Logan ever went there, but he always walked past it when he went for a drink. Flour Power stood out from all the shops with its baby blue windowsills and bubblegum pink door. As much as he disliked vibrant colours, his eyes were always drawn to the bakery. But not because of how it looked or the way it smelled.

No, Logan strategically sat down by the window in the bar to see you. Every evening, he watched you sell everything you had on display, from wedding cakes to éclairs, greetings customers with a warm smile on your face. He watched you turn the sign from open to closed, lock the door, clean the display shelves, the counters, the only two tables and four chairs inside, and sweep and mop the floors. Then you disappeared in the back for a while, perhaps doing the dishes or preparing dough and frosting, before you walked out, locked the door again, pulled down the blinds over the big window on the right side of the door, and left.

It became a ritual for Logan to watch you. In a way, it brought him some peace, despite him never speaking to you. To him, you were innocence personified, the type of girl who made others feel better simply by being there, and he didn't want to disturb that peace.

Tonight was an ordinary night for the 200 year old mutant. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, drank it all, then went to the bar to ask for another round, killing time until you closed the bakery, then he could finally go back to the apartment. You closed at 7 for clients and left at 8:30 every evening except for Sundays, when you didn't work. Logan knew your schedule a little to well, even knew you opened for clients at 8 in the morning, but you were there much earlier, because he could smell the pastries at around half 6. This time, however, you seemed to have a bit more work. It was past 9, it was dark, and you still hadn't left, and Logan was slightly concerned.

He watched you like a hawk, how you tucked rebellious strands of hair behind your ear when you mopped the floor, how you wiped your hands on your cute little apron after you finished scrubbing the countertops. Logan thought you had extra orders from customers, perhaps a wedding cake. He scrunched his nose at the thought of having to try so many flavours only to pick a damn cake that he probably wouldn't enjoy anyway.

But finally, you were done.

It was almost 10 when you locked the door to the bakery, double checking to make sure it wouldn't budge. Then the blinds and off you went. Logan was satisfied to see you go, but the hairs on his back suddenly stood up, his nostrils filled with the scent of danger. Bitter, sour, it went straight to his brain, and so he finished his drink and left the bar, following you down the street but keeping a safe distance.

You walked past a group of drunk men, gripping your tote bag with your left hand and your keys with your right one. You've learned to place the keys between your fingers, like claws, in case someone attacked you. Going home at that time wasn't something you enjoyed, and you always tried to avoid working late, but sometimes that was inevitable. When you heard footsteps approaching you, you picked up the pace, but paranoia kicked in, and you didn't want whoever was following you to find out where you lived, and so you took a detour.

Logan was like your shadow, going everywhere you went, until he heard something drop in a dimly lit alleyway and he sped up, finding you round a corner, pinned to a wall by a man while another guy had his hand up your dress. It was too dark to see, but Logan didn't need eyes to know that was you. He could smell the vanilla extract and icing sugar and fear.

"Take my wallet!" You told the men, but they weren't there for the money. They wanted something else from you.

"Nah, doll, I'll take something else from you. Somethin' more precious than money." One of the men said, his breath reeking of alcohol, the cheap kind.

"Hurry up and fuck her, bro, I need my turn-"

Something flashed, then a shadow lunged at the second guy who couldn't even finish his sentence before he was struck down.

"Mike?" The man who pinned you against the wall asked, his hands trembling on your body. "Stop fucking around."

But Mike was seeing stars somewhere on the alleyway. It happened so quickly you couldn't understand what was going on. When your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you saw him, rough, handsome and very, very angry.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man asked, but all he got in response was a guttural growl. "Hey, man, I don't want any trouble. My girlfriend and I were just talking. Stay out of it." He grabbed you by the neck, dragging you away from Logan.

You seized the opportunity and wrestled out of his grasp by biting your assaulter's hand, dashing behind a bin.

"Ow! Fucking bitch!" He lunged at you, but Logan was quicker, piercing his claws through his shoulder and holding him in place.

"That's no way to talk to a lady." The mutant snarled, and you watched how his claws retracted before he punched the man in the face, effectively knocking him down.

He was the Wolverine. You had seen it all over the news, how he saved your universe, how he came from a different world. You couldn't believe he was the one helping you when you thought no one would save you in that moment.

"You alright, kid?" His raspy voice startled you and you barely nodded, still too shocked to move or speak. "You sure?"

You shook your head and tears rolled down your cheeks as you finally started to process what just happened. Logan scrunched his nose — comforting someone wasn't his strongest skill — and instead he picked up your bag and keys from the pavement.

"Shit, um, don't cry." He handed you your belongings, and you looked up at him with a frown.

How could you not cry when you saw your entire life flashing before your eyes? Logan swallowed a lump in his throat and offered his hand to help you stand up. You looked at his hand, reluctant to grab it. The only thing he could compare you with was a cat — cautious, yet curious.

"No claws." He said when he understood the meaning behind your eyes. "Come, I'll- um, I'll walk you home."

The invitation had you perk up and gain courage, and you quietly took the bag from his hand. He walked with you in complete silence, until you stopped in front of a building. You lingered, unwilling to go in. Logan asked if that was your place, and after you nodded, he offered to take you all the way to your apartment, which made you feel relieved. He could see it on your face when you sighed. You guided him up the stairs, constantly looking behind you to make sure he was there.

You stopped in front of a tall wooden door, keys in hand.

"Go on. I'll wait until you lock the door." Logan encouraged you.

"Can you stay?" You finally spoke, and your voice was sweet like honey, fitting for a baker.

"I don't know, kid-"

"Please." You looked at him with glossy eyes, pupils blown from the fear that hadn't left your body yet. The fear he could still smell.

"Yeah. Okay, I'll stay."

"Thank you."

Logan followed you in, and you flipped the light switch on before locking the door behind him. He looked around and, just as he expected, the apartment was a direct reflection of your bakery — clean, colourful and calm. There were recipes stuck to the walls with pink pins, and between them little paintings of sunsets, skies, flowers, cats. All things cute. They weren't framed, and so Logan figured they were hand-made, his assumptions confirmed by the easel in the corner of your living room.

Of course your sofa had to be colourful, too — mustard yellow with sage green cushions and blankets. Even your curtains were sage green. Despite the explosion of colours, Logan found himself enjoying being there. Not everything had to be brown, black and grey, he thought. Probably the only vibrant thing in his life was his suit, since the only people that brought colour were his friends, and they were gone.

"Drink?" You cracked the walls he put up around his heart with that sweet voice.

You shook a bottle of gin to get his attention and he nodded. Logan wasn't a fan of gin, but he didn't expect you to have any hard liquors. He watched you pull out two blue glasses from the kitchen cabinet, and of course they had to be funky, with white flowers on them.

"Where'd you get these?" He asked, swirling the drink in his hand.

"I made them. Kind of." You said. "Bought them from a charity store and painted the flowers. Do you want some tonic water?"

"Fuck no." Logan choked on his gin when you asked him that question. Simply being in a place so... colourful was enough. He didn't need a girly drink.

"I'm Y/N, by the way."

"I'm-"

"The Wolverine!" You cut him off a little too eager.

"-Logan. Call me Logan." He cringed when the beverage tickled his taste buds. It wasn't bitter enough for him.

"Logan. Thanks for tonight. Is there any way I can repay you?"

The question was riddled with innocence, but he couldn't stop the degenerate thoughts that popped in his mind when you asked him that. You were just so pure that he wanted to both protect you and ruin you.

"Don't mention it. I couldn't just walk past without doing anything." Logan lied, because, really, he wasn't just walking by, was he? No, it was downright stalking.

"I could bake something for you." You offered and he shook his head.

"I don't like sweets, kid."

"What?" You were baffled. "Everybody likes something sweet."

"Not me." He shrugged. "All I like is tiramisu and only if those biscuits are doused in coffee."

"Ladyfingers." You corrected him with a chuckle. "They're called ladyfingers."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious! Here!" You rushed to your pantry and pulled out a whole box of them, showing Logan the name.

"That's just stupid." He shook his head. "Who calls them ladyfingers?"

"Uh, everyone?" You laughed at his surprise, and the thoughts of your bad evening slowly dissipated, like a bad dream.

Logan truly was clueless about baking, but spent hours listening to you talk about types of sugar, extracts and their uses, and the difference between baking soda and baking powder in cooking. You rambled on and on and not once did he get bored. He could listen to you talk for hours with your voice soothing. Logan thought about it, and he genuinely never met someone like you before. The women in his life were all so different, but you took the cake. You were special in ways he couldn't understand. And he was just so drawn to you.

"I'm sorry, I haven't stopped talking once!" You apologised, realising how safe you felt with him there. You would never let a stranger inside your house, let alone talk about baking while having gin. But Logan wasn't a stranger. Not after he saved you.

"'s alright. It's not every day I learn about baking." He chuckled, finishing his drink. "Listen, I should get going."

"Right." You sighed, eyes darting at the floor. "No, of course. I've kept you too long."

Logan got up and you walked with him to the hallway. He was slow to put his leather jacket on, as if he was waiting for you to say something, anything, but when you didn't, he unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hey, Logan?" You tugged at his sleeve, whispering so you wouldn't wake your neighbours. "Are you sure I can't bake you something? Not now, I mean. I really want you to try something besides tiramisu. And that way I can repay you."

"Hell, why not?" He shrugged.

"Great!" You beamed at him like a child on Christmas day. "Stop by my bakery tomorrow at twelve. It's on Granville Street."

"I thought you didn't work on Sundays."

"Oh, how'd you know?" You quirked a brow at him.

Caught red-handed.

"Educated guess."

"Fair enough." His answer satisfied you. "Be there or be square!"

Sleep was for the weak. All night, Logan tossed and turned and abused his poor pillow with with punches. The mere thought of seeing you, no, interacting with you, had him wriggle like a worm on the mattress. It didn't help that Wade instantly noticed something was up.

"Oh, my, did you shower, peanut?"

"Not today, Satan." Logan poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Mmm, and what do I smell?" Wade sniffed the air. "Wait, is that my perfume?"

"Forgot to pack mine when I swapped universes." The Wolverine barked back.

"Hah!" Blind Al chimed in from the living room. "I think tall, dark and handsome here has a date!"

Logan rolled his eyes while Wade pouted, plopping on the sofa next to Al.

"You never called me that."

"That's cause you’re a degenerate." The woman snorted.

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it- ow! Stop hitting me with your cane, I know where you hide your nose candy!" Wade fought back.

"Touch it and I'll bust a cap in your ass!" Al scoffed.

"And I'll regenerate."

Logan used the opportunity to slip into the hallway, but his roommate was quicker, and blocked the door.

"You're not going anywhere until we have the talk."

"The talk?" The Wolverine snorted.

"Ah, they grow up so fast." Wade told Al. "Now, son, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"I'll give you three seconds to fuck off."

"Oh, but I need to know everything! Who is he?"

"She." Logan rolled his eyes.

"Oh my god, is this you coming out to us? Al, he's straight! I promise we love you anyway." Wade went for a hug and all Logan could do was accept it. He learned to live with Wade, even though he dislocated his jaw a few times after he moved in.

"Alright, that's enough."

"Nooo, we're just getting started. Name? Age? Occupation? We could do a double date with Vanessa-"

"Absolutely fucking not." Logan pushed Wade off of him.

"Okay, okay. Just make sure you wrap your willy, and if you need any advice, daddy's here." Wade opened the door for his roommate.

"Actually." Logan lingered in the hallway. "What kind of flowers do girls like?"

The blinds to the bakery were closed but you were inside, pastries in the oven and dessert in the fridge. You couldn't help yourself and prepared something savoury as well, in case he didn't like the lemon cake. A knock on the door startled you, and you rushed to check who it was.

Logan stood there, a bouquet of peonies in his hand. You welcomed him in with a smile, but he could tell it was different than the one you flashed your customers. It seemed more genuine. And it felt like a date.

"These are for you." Logan handed you the flowers, taking in the scent of pork pies. "I thought you were gonna bake something sweet." He flared his nostrils.

"I did, I just thought I should have a plan B in case you didn't like my cake." You placed the bouquet in a vase on one of your tables. "How did you know I liked peonies?"

Logan couldn't believe Wade was right about those damn flowers. And there he was, thinking roses would be better. Maybe the Merc with a Mouth wasn't so bad after all.

"I had a hunch." He shrugged. 

"Well, Logan, I love them! Now sit, sit!" You ushered him to his seat. "I hope you're hungry, because there's a lot for you to try."

"A lot? I thought you'll make me a cupcake or somethin', bub."

"A cupcake?? Don't be silly." Just as you said that, the oven made a loud ding sound, and you turned on your heels, heading in the back.

Logan waited patiently, observing every little detail from the front of your bakery, from the spotless display shelves to the neatly organised paper bags, to the fairy lights around the window. It was obvious to him that you had put your mind, body and soul into this bakery, and his expectations were quite high after all the fuss you made. But he decided to be nice not matter how the food tasted. He couldn't bear seeing you upset if he didn't like what you made.

You reappeared with a tray in your hand, and on it two plates, one with a small pork pie, one with a croissant, and a cup of coffee. Hell, even the cutlery was cute, with swirls engraved on the handles of the fork, knife and teaspoon.

"I decided to leave the cake for last." You said, placing the tray in front of him. "This is a simple pork pie, start with that." You urged him. "Careful, it's hot."

The Wolverine struggled with the cutlery, too small for his large hands, and the brief thought of slashing the pie with his claws crossed his mind, but he decided to be civil. You watched him butcher the food, eager to see his reaction, but he was taking his time.

"I'll let it cool off a bit."

"Ooh, that's probably a good idea." You nodded.

"Aren't you having some?" Logan asked.

"Noo, no. I like to bake for others, not for myself."

"So what do you eat, then?" He sipped on the coffee.

"Instant noodles usually. I'm too tired to cook when I get home. I do occasionally have leftovers, but whatever isn't sold I take it to the local shelter." You explained.

Christ, you couldn't be any kinder. Logan was stunned by your beauty and your soul, which was why he decided that after today, he will stop any interaction with you. He couldn't ruin you, not with his lifestyle, not with the danger that followed him everywhere.

The only problem was that the conversation flowed naturally, and he felt safe with you, just as you did with him. Like you were the missing piece to his puzzle. Logan pushed away those thoughts and decided to try the food. He took a large mouthful of the pie, chewed and swallowed, and you waited expectantly.

"Shit."

"What? Is it bad?" You jumped from your seat.

"Fuck, this is the best pork pie I've ever had." Logan wiped his mouth with a tissue you provided. "I'm serious, kid. Did you put drugs in it?"

You laughed, shaking your head as he finished the rest of the pie. He truly seemed to enjoy it, and you felt so satisfied. But the real test came after.

"Pistachio croissant." You said. "I thought about making almond ones, but I figured pistachio wasn't that sweet."

"Right, let's see." Logan took a healthy bite out of the pastry, and lo and behold, he closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. If heaven had a taste, it would be that damned croissant.

"Is it good?"

"Good? Jesus, this is the best one yet." He finished the rest of it, the pistachio cream tickling his taste buds in all the right ways. "Who taught you to bake like this?"

"My grandma. She was the best cook I knew." You smiled.

Logan noticed your use of past tense, and he didn't want to bring up any bad memories. He wasn't the nosy type, but something possessed him to ask you about your life, your family, your favourite colours. He needed to know more about you, and you answered all his questions, opening up to him like a flower in bloom. But when it came to him talking about himself, Logan was reluctant.

Talking to Wade was easier, because Wade didn't take anything seriously, nor did he ask personal questions. Well, he did, but in his own stupid way that provided Logan some distraction, as well as a reason to punch him. But with you it was different. He felt like he owed you serious answers that he wasn't yet ready to tell a stranger who made a mean pistachio croissant.

"The cake!" You spun on the chair, changing the subject when you saw Logan dodging your questions like bullets.

Although he didn't say it, he was grateful that you didn't put any pressure on him to talk. He wasn't a talker. That was definitely Wade. You came back with the whole cake, and it looked so good that Logan didn't want you to cut it. Perfectly round, a layer of cream in the middle and white frosting on top. You even went so far as to decorate it with all kinds of yellow flower petals and what seemed to be mint leaves.

"Alright, hit me. What's this one called?"

"I call it the Mojito Cake. The sponge cake has lemon zest, the cream is made of lime, mint and rum syrup, and the frosting is buttercream with a dash of actual rum." You explained.

"Shit, I can't tell if that sounds disgusting or incredible."

"Only one way to find out." You cut him a thick slice, and Logan wasted no time trying it.

"I think you found yourself a new customer."

"You're too nice."

"I'm anything but nice, kid." He took three more spoonfuls. "But I ain't a liar. This is delicious." Logan spoke with his mouth full and it made you chuckle.

"Oh, there's a bit of frosting on your face."

"Hm?" He used the tissue to wipe his chin. "Did I get it?"

"No, it's still- here, I'll get it." You leaned forward and delicately ghosted your thumb over the corner of his mouth, eyes locked with his.

Without thinking about it, you dragged your tongue over the frosting, and Logan couldn't look away from you even if he wanted to. A gesture so innocent, but it destroyed any form of restraint. He pressed his lips onto yours, tasting the rum and the cream, but before you could kiss him back, he pulled away.

"Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

You gave him no time to finish his sentence when you placed your hands on his shoulders and kissed him with fire on your tongue. God, he hated being touched, but when you did it, he melted in your hands. Lust battled reason and prevailed, and you found yourself straddling Logan's lap, arms around his neck and chest pressed against his.

His large hands found their way under your dress, fingers digging in the plush of your thighs until a moan escaped past your lips. Logan could've sworn you were pure in all ways — a virgin — so, naturally, he was surprised to see you eager to jump his adamantium bones.

With the last shred of reason left in you, you glanced at the door and window to make sure they were covered, and pushed Logan's jacket off his shoulders, peppering his neck with soft kisses. He wasn't the gentle type, no matter how hard he tried, and he didn't need to be when he felt your hips grind in his lap. It was more than obvious that you wanted him then and there.

Logan lifted you up as if you weighed nothing and slammed you down the empty table. His roughness sent a chill down your spine, because you really wanted him to manhandle you from the moment he stepped foot in your bakery. He kissed you again, pressing his whole against yours until your back hit the table. You felt like a cornered animal with nowhere to go, and the thrill of it turned you on.

"Are you sure you want this?" Logan asked despite you unbuckling his belt.

"I don't want this, I want you. I need you to fuck me so hard I can't walk." You unzipped his jeans, and although he was taken aback by your sudden use of filthy words, he couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing that side of you.

"Greedy little girl." Logan's hand slithered between your legs, fingers rubbing circles over your clothed clit. "Shit, you're soakin' wet. Can feel it through your fuckin' panties already." He flared his nostrils, taking in the scent of your arousal.

With his jeans loose around his waist, you palmed his cock through his boxers, and it didn't shock you for a second that he was rock hard. What did shock you, however, was the size of it. It was probably the biggest you've ever taken, and you didn't want any other man anymore.

You tugged at the waistband of his boxers, making it clear that you didn't want to waste any more time. Not that you didn't want to suck his dick or explore every inch of his body and worship it the way a man like him deserved it, but you were impatient.

Logan got the hint when you whined and scoffed, and he tore the pink panties off of you, tossing them on the floor. At least he had the decency not to put them on the table, which you were going to disinfect anyway. He pushed his boxers down, and you propped yourself on your elbows to look at him, and it was a sight for sore eyes indeed. He had perfectly sculpted abs, you could see them under the half-lifted t-shirt, but it was his cock that made your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" Logan was smug, confident in his good looks.

"I need to permanently imprint this image on my retina." You told him, and he couldn't help the chuckle.

"Likewise. Now spread 'em."

"Yessir!" You very quickly obeyed, parting your legs for him, and Logan couldn't deny that he enjoyed being in control.

He wasn't one to take orders, nor give them, but watching you comply scratched an itch he couldn't get rid of. Logan pressed the tip of his cock against your slick folds, earning another whine from you. You bucked your hips, craving more, and he scoffed.

"That desperate, hm?"

"You have no idea." You dug your manicured fingernails into his shoulders, bracing for temporary pain, because you knew damn well it would hurt.

"I don't know, I didn't hear you say please." Logan frowned, and you understood what game he was playing. A game you yearned to be part of.

"Oh, please, please, please fuck me, Logan! I'll be so good for you! I'll do anything you want." You clung to his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. "I'll even take it in any hole you want." You whispered, dragging your tongue over his lips.

"Shit." Logan was weak in the knees from your words, and the worst part was that he believed everything you said. But there was a time and place for everything.

You were the perfect mix of sweet and spicy, and you begged so nicely that the Wolverine just couldn't say no. You felt the leaking tip of his cock push past your folds and you audibly gasped at the size of it, drawing blood from his skin with your fingernails.

"It won't fit-" You whined with lust in your voice.

"I'll make it fit." Logan promised, painstakingly slowly thrusting into you.

He gave you time to adjust to his girth, constantly checking if you were alright, if you wanted him to carry on or stop, and while you loved that he was so caring, you needed him hurry up and fuck you.

To assure him that you would survive his monstrous cock, you planted a soft kiss on his nose, and there it was again, the change in your personality, from sultry to innocent. It was as though you embodied everything he ever wanted, and his desire to never contact you again went down the drain. How could Logan ever leave someone like you?

"I'm ready." You nodded, and he pressed his forehead onto yours, slowly rolling his hips.

You weren't ready, because it hurt like a bitch when he stretched out your velvety walls. But the pain was soon replaced by pleasure, and Logan picked up the pace when your whimpers turned to moans, and the slight frown on your face disappeared.

"So tight." He hummed, forehead resting against yours.

Were you tight, or was he just so incredibly big? Either way, you were a panting mess already, clinging to him for dear life, and Logan forgot his worries, even if it was just for that one moment. You were too good to be true, with your parted lips and glossy eyes — a beautiful sight for his sore eyes.

"Fuck, I- fuck!" You wrapped your legs around his waist, the table screeching under you. Not a single coherent sentence could come out of your mouth. "Logan, shit, I-"

"What's the matter? Need something?" He cooed, fingers bruising into your hips. "Use your big girl words."

"Need it ha-harder!" You cried out but he slowed down, confusion written all over your face.

"Where are your manners?"

"Please, daddy, please give it to me harder!"

The term of endearment had Logan quirk a brow at you, but he wasn't surprised in the slightest that you had a daddy kink. And he basked in being called that.

"Are you sure you can take it?"

"Yes!" There was no hesitation in your response. "Fuck, yes!"

Logan growled when he felt your pussy clench around his cock, and he delivered, thrusting deeper, harder and faster into you, until the sound of skin on skin echoed in the bakery, and your breathing became heavier.

"Fuuuuck, I can feel it in my gut!" You threw your head back when the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix.

"Filthy. Little. Slut." Each word came with a thrust and a groan, and he filled you up so good, you became addicted to him.

Your toes curled up, and your legs began to twitch when you felt your orgasm build up. Each push and pull made your vision blurry, and Logan's grip on you tightened as his hips stuttered. He was feral, and he was close, you could feel it in your bones.

"Fuck, Logan, do- oh- don't stop!" Words spilled from your mouth incoherently, and after a few more thrusts, pure bliss rushed through your body.

"That's it, let go." Logan buried his face in the crook of your neck, slamming hard into you until all you could do was chant his name like a prayer.

You felt him fill you up, pussy hot and sticky and sore, and he slowly pulled out, eyes darting at the tissues on the table. He grabbed them, gently cleaning you up, and you couldn’t stop the grin on your face. There was just something about a man like him be so gentle. And you were absolutely delighted to have him take care of you.

"You know," Logan said licking his lips, "I'm beginning to think you didn't want me to just taste your pastries."

"True." You told him smugly. "But you liked them."

"I like you more." He blurted out without thinking.

You felt your cheeks burn at his sudden honesty, and after sliding up your underwear and fixing your dress, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I like you too, honey badger."

"Don't ever call me that again." Logan chuckled.

"Not happening. Now, could you pleaaaase help me clean up this place? The last thing I need is a surprise hygiene inspection tomorrow."

He couldn't even imagine what the inspectors would do if they found out you had sex in a bakery, and with a nod, Logan zipped up his jeans and began disinfecting the tables and chairs while you swept the floor.

In less than half an hour you were done, and the shop was squeaky clean. You were satisfied with the end result, and told Logan that you wanted him to have the rest of the cake, pies and croissants. He thought Wade and Al could eat something, and decided to accept your offer.

"Can I come with you? There's quite a few boxes of food." You told him, a sheepish grin on your lips.

"Is that your way of finding out where I live?"

"Maybe. I'll go home if you don't want me with you."

"No, you're good." Logan assured you. "Besides, I'm sure my roommate's gonna devour everything. He'll probably lock you up in our apartment and force you to bake for him."

"I don't know if that's a threat or a promise." You laughed.

"Both. It's both."

You walked with Logan down the street, boxes in your arms, and you were surprised to see him open up to you more. He answered almost every question you had, and you felt him more relaxed. And he was. Logan forgot how much he needed that kind of connection with someone. You were so easy to talk to, you didn't judge him, and most importantly, you listened.

He guided you up the stairs to his apartment and knocked on the door, because he couldn't reach his keys with so many boxes in his arms. You baked for a damn army.

Wade opened the door, and you were taken aback by his appearance, but it didn't scare you. Instead, you introduced yourself as Logan's personal baker, earning a chuckle from him.

"Come on in, Martha Stewart." Wade opened the door enough for you to walk through it with the boxes and not drop them.

"Wade." Logan came back from the kitchen with a croissant. "Eat. Seriously, eat."

You watched Wade wolf down the pastry without hesitation and his eyes lit up. He chewed and swallowed, then moaned, eyes rolling back. The look of disgust on Logan's face was priceless.

"Holy fucking shit, Y/N, what the fuck did you put in this?" Wade grabbed your shoulders, giving them a good shake. "It's so flaky and creamy and buttery, like a bunch of unicorns came in my mouth."

"I'm glad you like it." You giggled. "Try the cake."

"There's cake?!" He ran to the kitchen, leaving you and Logan in the hallway before coming back, a slice of half-eaten cake in his hand. "I am officially impressed. Can you make Rocky Road?"

"Yes."

"Dulce de leche?"

"Yep."

"Baklava?"

"Uh-huh."

"Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte?"

"Yes, Wade!" You rolled your eyes, then turned to Logan. "Sugar rush?"

"Oh, you have no idea. And this is him on a good day."

"Listen, sweet cheeks, if old man fuckface here won’t marry you, I will. Just don’t tell Vanessa." Wade whispered.

"Don’t even think about it, you degenerate limp dick."

"Ugh, fine. And here I was hoping all four of us could be a happy dysfunctional family. Five if you count Al. Six with Colossus. Wait, actually, eight with-"

"Wade, have you tried the pork pies?" You asked, effectively shutting him up.

Yeah, Logan could definitely get used to being around you from now on to sweeten up his life.

[biscuitdolly]

ten small habits to start doing ♡

never go to the bathroom with your phone. It's gross , wastes time , and spreads germs.

are you a forgetful person? set alarms and reminders for things you need to do (drinking water , homework , showering, etc)

be kind! always say hi to people you know and smile at strangers. don't be afraid to compliment people too!!

cant be bothered exercising? try dancing instead. this could be learning a new dance , a Kpop choreography , literally anything!

put screen-time on your phone/devices. maybe start off with 10pm - 7am being the time that you shouldn't be on any devices, and then gradually increase it. it will help you be more productive and sleep better.

if you have a sweet tooth like me but are still trying to be healthy , try starting off the day with something sweet! fruits and oats , honey and porridge , french toast , pancakes , etc.

try cooking/baking/making something new each week. i allocate a Sunday each week to looking through a recipe book , walking down to a grocery store , coming back and baking something! cooking is a very helpful skill.

double cleanse your face every morning and night. even if you don't wear makeup , it helps get rid of any excess dirt and leaves your face fresh and clean!

when using skincare (more specifically moisturiser), never rub the product into your skin in a downward motion! it can drag your face down over time. try an upward or circular motion instead.

keep your house tidy , especially your room / workspace. tidy space = tidy mind.

[360iris]

For me, the vibe drastically shifts when I think of the moon knight system individually—

Like there’s Steven, who’s very sweet and accommodating. He’s easy going but just the right amount of snarky that never fails to make you snort with laughter.

He’s the kind of person I’d want to go to Starbucks with and order a large refresher only to walk around Target for a good two hours like it’s the mall or a farmer’s market.

Steven is Tuesday nights spent sprawled out on a modest sized couch, the two of you wrapped under a large blanket and trying to be respectful of each other’s space as you’re both self conscious of how much space you’re taking up.

But eventually, your calves are touching and ankles are interlocked as you’re leaning over him to get something off the end table.

It’s him standing at the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth and intently listening as you rambunctiously complain about obnoxious coworkers and customers over the noise of the shower running, shampoo being massaged into your scalp and rinsed from your hair.

He’s the partner you spent your adolescence daydreaming about.

And then there’s reserved, calculated and partially measured Marc. He’s quiet in an attentive sort of way, the type of big, semi-permanently grumpy guy who’ll take mental notes of literally everything that has to concern with you.

For example, he’ll pinpoint the exact pieces in your wardrobe you’re more inclined to pull out and wear before anything else in your closet— and he’ll always be sure to have washed, folded and returned them to their drawers so that they’re ready for you to pull on again at the end of the day.

It’s the kind of act of service that’s so subtle, you don’t realize he’s been doing it for months.

This man will fully memorize your go-to restaurant orders and act like it’s simply a coincidence when the waiter arrives and he’s just finished flawlessly reciting what you want, for you.

He knows what things you tend to somehow always forget to pack in your purse for work and will neatly line them up on the kitchen bar so that you couldn’t possibly miss them (you still forget to take them though… and after a while, he just starts packing your work bag for you. It doesn’t take long and he finds it’s nice that it gives him something to do.)

Marc is Sunday mornings spent baking cupcakes, lining the counters with different flavored box mixes, eggs and large ceramic bowls. Splashes of vanilla extract, tins smeared with butter and coated in flour for easy removal. The smell of sweet chocolate icing filling the air.

The two of you taking turns alternating from dish duty to prep. Pressing indulgent kisses in between his shoulder blades as he whisks eggs into oil and water like the yellowy yolks owe him money.

The way you serenely clean up behind him— a little spilt cake mix here, or broken eggshells there— doesn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated. The small gestures really go miles for him.

Marc wordlessly gives out tender pecks, against your temple or at the nape of your neck just because. He’s comfortable silences and fingers warmly intertwined.

He’s the man you find yourself stealing glances at when you think he’s not looking, wondering how you got so lucky.

And last, but never least, there’s Jake who’s hardy, spartan and disciplined. A true product of his environment and circumstances. Someone who learned from their oppressors and surpassed them in their capacity for brutality. The thing about Jake however, is that he has a great proclivity for gentleness as well.

Jake is Wednesday nights, the two of you undressing layer by layer, garments piling into a neat stack to later be placed into the laundry hamper. Jake resting his chin over your right shoulder, his arms wrapped around your middle as you fold your pants and his shirt.

He’s knelt alongside the white garden tub, his hand under the running water from the facet, adjusting the temperature as needed. Eucalyptus scented suds and bubbles fill the space around you as your back rests against his chest.

With his hands brought around your front, he peels one of the set of three clementines you’d brought from the kitchen. Hand feeding you segmented pieces to be lazily gnawed at, soft sloshes and splashes sounding at your feet as you wiggle your toes in the comfortable silence. The two of you exchanging hushed mumbles.

He’s cold nights with chill air slashing your cheeks, a steady chocolate stare he fixes you with as you shuffle in place in front of him. His neck craning as he leans forward, a gloved hand encasing your hands clasped at your mouth and moving them aside— his lips pressing against yours wordlessly.

He’s the protector you only ever heard about in passing stories.

[jieunoclock]

Love Your Feeling || Chapter five

- When JK meets Mom₊˚⊹♡

“Yun, you shouldn’t smoke,” he tries to discuss. “Neither should you, you look stupid,” I tell him,

Pair: jjk x femOC, college students, best friends

Word count: 4.2k

Warning: this chapter includes slight substance use⚠️

masterlist || taglist

!Friends to Lovers, Protective Brother, Secret Dating, Friends with Benefits, Angst, Mature content, Dysfunctional Family, Fluff, Smut, Mentions of Alcoholism and Abuse

——————————————————————₊˚⊹♡

Up, down. Up, down. Up… down… is the pace Jungkook’s chest goes at. It’s one of those moments where you’re mad that you woke up, so you keep your eyes closed in hopes you’ll go back to sleep.

Kinda like wanting to jump back into a dream, but it rarely ever happens unless you’re sleepy enough for it. In 1 out of maybe 10 scenarios you actually are sleepy enough, same goes for this instance.

I feel Jungkook move his arm, the tips of his fingers tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. His fingers fall to my shoulder trailing down before settling his whole hand on my upper arm.

It’s a Sunday, which usually consists of doing groceries and cleaning up the mess at home. So, if I can stretch this afternoon out as long as possible, I will.

I can already predict what awaits me at home; Beer bottles on the floor surrounding the couch, dirty dishes piling up in the sink, a load of dirty underwear and towels peeking out of the laundry basket, and probably a foul smell coming from somewhere you’re unable to locate.

Lost in thought, I eventually get sick of staying in the same position. I open my eyes with a soft groan, seeing there’s a blanket placed over us. That must mean Mingyu has seen us cuddled up on the couch, as he was probably getting his breakfast.

I slowly move my chin up to see Jungkook with his eyes closed, head slightly faltered to the side. My movement doesn’t give him any reaction, which must mean he’s fallen back asleep.

I untangle myself from his grip, careful not to wake him as I tuck him in with the blanket that was once lying over me, repeating Mingyu’s past actions of the day.

My clothes from the night before are still on his bedroom floor, crumpled up into a pile. I debate for a second if I should hop in the shower or not but I just know that if I don’t I’ll feel disgusting for the rest of the day.

Using Jungkook’s shampoo and body wash I now must smell just like him. He’s a sucker for good skincare so -with the little time I have for myself- I use his to wash my face and moisturize it.

Usually, I dry my hair with a hair dryer, it’s the best for the length of my hair. Letting it air dry takes hours and a hair dryer leaves an overall nicer finish. But since Jungkook is still sleeping, I pat my hair down with a towel and leave it at that. Too afraid that the noise will eventually wake him up.

Freshly out of the shower, dressed, moisturized skin, I’m now growing hungry. It’s a nice thank you to Jungkook if I’ll make him breakfast right? I know he likes anything containing literal flour, so that should be an easy task.

Compared to the fridge at home, this one is filled with food and ingredients. Milk and eggs in the refrigerator, flour found somewhere in one of his cabinets I decide to make him pancakes.

It checks off everything from the list; easy, tasty, great breakfast, contains flour. And I really don’t want to sound cocky, but over the years I’ve become a quite good cook. It was either, learning how to cook or living off of plain shin ramyun every single day. It’s the only ramen Yoongi would want to spend his money on, says it’s ‘without a doubt tasty, so it isn’t a waste of money’.

Unfortunately, I don’t know how to make them delicious, Japanese pancakes, like the lovely lady from the cafe does. But I do know how to make delicious crepes. Plus, they don’t require much effort.

Not even the smell of the crepes baking in the pan is enough to wake Jungkook again, which must mean he’s very tired. With his crepe now done baking, I top it with some sugar and lemon juice and place it on the counter.

Mine is now spread out on the pan, waiting to be flipped over. I walk over to the couch, placing a hand on Jungkook’s abs to shake him awake.

“Kook” a loud groan sounds from his throat, eyes sleepy trying to open them fully. “Smells good,” he says closing his eyes again and dropping the back of his head on the armrest ready to fall back to asleep.

“Yours is done already, come on,” that’s enough to get him up apparently, as before I know it he’s in the kitchen in front of his plate.

"What you wanna do today?" he asks me as he takes a bite off of his fork, humming in approval. I flip my crepe in the pan waiting for it to be done. "I need to do groceries and then clean up the apartment," I explain. he gives me a questioning look wondering why I'm the one who cleans at home.

"doesn't Yoongi do anything in the household?" I sprinkle some sugar on my crepe adding a bit of lemon juice before sitting down next to Jungkook. "Well, on rare occasions I guess,"

Jungkook disapproves, tells me that I need to protest by not cleaning anything. As if I havent thought of that. There was this one time I figured it wasn't fair for me to do all the housecleaning, which led to a huge fight between me and Yoongi. He told me he brought in the majority of the money within the household therefore it's only fair for me to do the shopping, cleaning, and cooking. even though I work as well. not as much as him since I still have school, but still I bring money into the household. more than mother ever would

"I'll help you" he then offers. Is he insane? nope, nu-uh. I tell him he's not coming home with me, to which he whines. and we eventually agree on just doing groceries together. Jungkook just has to get changed real quick and we’ll be off.

he changes into a simple white tee and blue baggy jeans, basic but stylish. he grabs his car keys and we make our way to the vehicle.

He drives us to a nearby store, one that I’ve never been to before. I don’t know what’s in the fridge at home if there’s anything really. But over the years I’ve picked up a kind of routine, buying almost the same kinds of things every single time.

Some kind of fruit, a family pack of ramen, eggs, milk, spring onions, a snack, and 2 packs of coke. It reaches just about our weekly budget and feeds us more than enough.

We walk inside of the store, trying to navigate anything that’s in my list. But the prices aren’t the ones that I’m used to, this store is far too overpriced.

I thug at his shirt, lowering my voice so none of the employees will hear me when I tell him I can’t afford it here.

“Uhm, Kook. This is far too expensive,” he looks at me as if I’m crazy, checking the prices for himself. “Where do you go then?”

I tell him it’s better to go to mine and drag him out of the store by his arm, buying nothing.

The one on my side of the city is a family-held business, I know the owners really well. The mother of the business used to be classmates with my mother, she’s always been nice enough to occasionally check up on me.

The products are far cheaper than whatever Jungkook’s store was, pointing out to him how much cheaper it actually is.

I send him off to grab me a pack of shin ramyun as I pick out some fruit, settling for a honeydew melon cause it’s probably one of my favourite fruits.

Gathering everything else and making our way to the cash register, I get greeted by the mother. She asks me how I’m doing and if my mom is okay.

I don’t want to bother her with the details by telling her she’s drunk at home so I just tell her she’s fine and been working hard, even though she doesn’t even have a job at this point.

She’s even so nice to pack the groceries up for me handing me a plastic bag whilst giving me a free bag of crisps.

However, after paying, Jungkook is still caught up in looking at the vitrine behind the counter. “One pack of cigarettes and a lighter please,” he says to her.

I’m certainly taken aback, I didn’t know he smoked. I mean I’ve seen him smoke before at parties but only rarely, never have I seen him buy a pack for himself.

I wait for us to be outside again before asking him about it, waving my mom’s friend goodbye. I load the bag of groceries onto the back seat of his car and want to sit back in the passenger seat but Jungkook just stands in front of the store.

I see him take a cigarette out of the packaging lighting it up between his lips. I stand next to him looking. At the big road that lays behind the parking lot.

“Since when do you smoke?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Today apparently,” he answers.

Unsatisfied with his decision, this just only asks for a new addiction. So to protest I hold out my hand, non-verbally asking him for a cigarette myself.

I hear him chuckle and he shakes his head. “No way Nayun,” he says with a big grin on his face. I try to force my hand in his pocket to just grab it but he’s stronger than me and pulls me away, telling me off.

With a big pout on my face, I decide this is unfair storming back into the store and getting another pair; a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Do I have the money for it? Not really but sure, I’ll survive, financially that is.

So now I’m standing next to him, smoking my own cigarette.

“Yun, you shouldn’t smoke,” he tries to discuss.

“Neither should you,” I look at him blowing the stupid cigarette smoke out of his lungs, it looks damn hot I’m afraid to admit.

“You look stupid,” I tell him, even though he doesn’t. Cigarettes taste like shit, I should invest in one of them stupid-looking disco vapes.

He just chuckles at my remark and stays silent until we’ve both completely smoked up the cigarette.

“C'mon, I should really get home,” I nudge at him back to the car. The drive is literally 3 minutes, I usually walk this route.

I thank him for driving me but as I slam the door shut, the car turns off and Jungkook gets out too.

“What are you doing?” I ask him with a nervous chuckle. “Helping you out?”

I told him off on helping me to clean up already but he seemed determined, though he could also just mean walking me to my door. That’s just stupid, he always just dropped me off at a bus stop so why would he walk me all the way to my door now? You can see my door from the car so it’s just stupid to do that.

“What do you mean helping me out?..” I frown at him in confusion.

“Yun I don’t care what you say, I’m helping you clean,” he says as he walks towards the stairwell. I try my best to stop him, yelling after him in protest whilst running behind him like an idiot.

Though he really stands his ground, doesn’t let my protests stop him from getting to my house. The first time he’s here, in our long seven or eight-year friendship. I decide to just give in, cause I can’t just stand outside all day.

As I open the front door, the first thing you’ll see is the bathroom door. It’s not big enough to conceal the sight of the living room next to it. You can see everything as soon as you open it; living room in front, kitchen to your left, bedroom door wide open.

Mom still hasn’t come back, as for Yoongi I wouldn’t know. Yoongi usually leaves early in the mornings and comes back home late in the evening or night, I’ve learned to stop worrying about it. most of the time he spends it with his friends, Seokjin and Namjoon, sometimes even Hoseok, doing god knows what.

Having my house on display like this is vulnerable there are absolutely no filters you can put on it. No fake smiles, no ‘it’s fine’, there are no excuses when it’s like this.

And it’s truly shocking how bad it can get in a week’s worth. The couch is empty aside from the empty take-out box, Dad’s blanket, and some beer cans.

I look at Jungkook trying to see what his reaction is, but it’s fairly normal. I can see the slightest bit of shock on his face, his forehead creased a little. But it’s quick to soften up as he notices me swinging my head around, acting as if it’s the most normal case in the world.

“Welcome home I guess,” I say nervously.

He doesn’t say anything and takes his shoes off after me following right behind me into my house. I set the bag of groceries down on the kitchen counter, unpacking it and crumbling the plastic bag to go into a bigger plastic bag that’s stored in one of our cabinets.

“Are there supposed to be shards of glass on the ground?” I look back at him to see he’s standing by the window, next to the couch where a bottle had smashed during a fight between Yoongi and Mom.

“Oh yeah no I haven’t had time to clean it yet,” I explain.

It leaves him with a bunch of questions; what happened? Why is there a smashed bottle on the ground? Did you hurt anyone? Did you get hurt? But he just leaves it be and doesn’t question it any further.

“What can I do?” He asks me. I wouldn’t want to bother him with a hard task, because he’s a guest and of course he doesn’t know where anything is here.

I look around the room to see what he can do, spotting the beer crate in the corner of the kitchen and the bottles gathered around the couch and coffee table. I think it’s the perfect job for him to do just that, not too difficult for a guest and it’ll keep him busy for a little to stop complaining.

I hand him the crate and tell him to put the bottles In there as I focus on doing the dishes.

I tell him to look good for any lost bottles until the crate is completely filled up with them and to then put them out in the hall.

Luckily there aren’t many dishes, mainly bowls and chopsticks stacked up in the sink. So when Jungkook has put the crate outside I’m already done with washing all of them.

Now there are two things left to do; taking out the garbage and doing the laundry. None of these tasks seem appropriate for Jungkook to do, I don’t want to bother him and he doesn’t want me to be bothered by doing these tasks on my own.

He pushes me onto doing the laundry, he’s gonna take care of the garbage. The laundry room is opposite the bathroom right next to my bedroom, completely closed off from the kitchen.

It takes me some time as I put some clothes in the dryer the other day and hadn’t had the time to fold them yet, so that’s included in today’s task. Taking the dirty laundry baskets out of the bathroom, my room, and Yoongi’s and turning on the washer to do a quick dark wash.

Would’ve been embarrassing to let Jungkook fold the laundry, worse, load the washer. There’s lingerie in here that I wouldn’t want him to see, no matter the fact that he’s seen parts of me that even my best girlfriends haven’t.

Since it’s only clothing of Yoongi and I, only rarely ever mom’s clothing. It doesn’t take me an awful long time to fold everything separating the clothes into two piles, one for Yoongi and one for me. Putting both of them on our beds.

The doorbell then rings, I’m not expecting anyone. Mom doesn’t ring the doorbell, neither does Yoongi. Jungkook is quick to open the door before I’m able to reach the living room, I immediately notice how neat it is. It doesn’t surprise me completely, Jungkook’s apartment is always spotless and super tidy. I have no idea how he was able to do it here in the little amount of time that I was gone.

Not a single piece of rubbish that’s lying around or a bad odour lingering somewhere, not even a speck of dust that’s able to be found at the moment.

Jungkook doesn’t take long at the door, greets the person on the other side, and receives a package from them. None of us ever order anything so it must be the wrong address, though Jungkook seems sure of it and places the box on the coffee table.

“Dinner!” He chimes, utensils already set on the coffee table.

He ordered a large box of fried chicken, one of those luxurious ones where they dress it up all nicely and stuff. I don’t think I can remember the last time we had takeout, probably at Jia’s house or something. Certainly not with my family, Yoongi will always say it’s too expensive.

“Are you insane?!” I yell at him. He’s being far too generous, cleaning up for me and ordering me dinner?

There are certainly four different flavours, sweet and spicy, extra crispy, honey butter, and soy garlic. I don’t know if we’ll be able to finish all of it.

I turn on the TV to watch something, nothing that’s on cable really catches my attention. And neither does Jungkook so I pout at him begging him a little to log into his Netflix account, it receives a little chuckle from him as he takes the remote out of my hand logging into the account.

He lets me choose whatever I want, and suddenly in the mood to rewatch Alice in Borderland. And even though he has seen it already, he attentively watches the show with his cheeks full of chicken.

We make it about 1/3 through the box before I’m already full, Jungkook’s appetite lays a little higher than mine, and continues eating a bit more than me but it doesn’t take him long to sigh at the fullness of his stomach as well.

I take a sip of my soda and hear the front door open, both Yoongi and Mom walking inside. She doesn’t look good, eye bags that are darker than my hair, hair all messy I swear there’s leaves in them. Yoongi looks tired too, in a different way than Mom though. Yoongi just looks sleepy as for Mom she looks sleep-deprived and lifeless.

Jungkook stands up from the ground immediately, bowing to greet my mother and Yoongi politely. He has never actually met my mother, he’s heard about her a hundred thousand times but never actually met her.

She tries her best to cheer up at the sight of jungkook, telling him how glad she is to finally meet him and how handsome he is. She quite literally squeezes his bicep and praises him for how strong he is. Shes acting like a fool, as if she’s a teenager again. It also doesn’t help that she doesn’t stop drinking, even if she’s already drunk.

Yoongi and Mom settle around the coffee table nibbling away on the chicken whilst Mom asks Jungkook a bunch of questions, asking about his parents and how he grew up and whatnot. Yoongi and I just stay silent, heads down.

It makes me sad seeing how much effort she’s putting into getting to know Jungkook, she never cares to ask anything about us. Whenever we leave the house for days, she doesn’t care. Whenever someone comes back injured or crying, she doesn’t bat an eye.

It just hurts knowing you’re the problem. Whenever she acts careless I’ll just brush it off as something she does, but seeing her act like this just puts a stamp on us being the problem.

It takes her a whole one-hour conversation to doze off, Yoongi drags her to the couch lying her down on it and she’s out like a light.

It’s nearly 9 pm now so Jungkook thinks it’s better to be off. Yoongi thanks him for the food and apologises for our mother’s behaviour, leaving me to walk Jungkook back to his car.

“Thank you so much for helping me out today, it means a lot,” I say as we’re standing beside his car.

“It’s no problem, it was nice to meet your mom. And of course, see where you live for once,” he adds.

“I guess I was always a little embarrassed about it but… I know I can trust you,”

He takes a step closer to me tugging me into a warm embrace.

“No need to be embarrassed about anything okay?” He says. I nod against his cheesy hugging his waist tightly saying our goodbyes.

I can’t hug him too long in case Yoongi might see and suspect things that aren’t there. He seems to be in a calm mood, I wouldn’t want to blow that up right now.

And then Jungkook drives off. It’s awfully quiet out, it’s almost dark leaving the air in an awkward grey color.

I release a big sigh before making my way back up to the apartment, where Yoongi is cleaning up the mess that was left behind at our dinner party.

“Where’d you find her?” I ask him, referencing him coming home with Mom.

“Found her on a bench somewhere near the city,” he explains. There’s no emotion behind it, the same goes for me. It doesn’t sound sad, angry, annoyed, happy or cold. Just, normal.

“I’m really sorry about what happened,” his voice changes, it sounds genuine and apologetic.

“I shouldn’t have said any of that,” he holds his head down whilst I’m trying to stay neutral before I break down in tears again.

But Yoongi doesn’t really go in on it any further, doesn’t talk about Dad or repeat anything that he shouted at me in the convenience store.

Instead, he tells me to wait as he disappears into his room, coming out with a rectangular box that’s wrapped in pink paper with a little bow in it.

“Here, I got you something,” he held it out for me to accept.

I take the package in hand unwrapping it eagerly, revealing the corner of a white box, and until it’s fully unwrapped I see he’s gifted me an iPhone. An iPhone 14 Pro Max to be exact.

I stutter in response, “What? Are you serious?”

A big grin appears on his face, proud of having such a reaction to his gift.

“This is far too expensive, are you crazy!?” I exclaim.

“I saved up, you deserved it. I smashed the other one anyways,” he acts nonchalant as if it’s nothing. I hug him tightly, still in complete unbelief.

“Thank you Yoongi,” I say as he gives me a small tight tight-lipped smile, he tells me to be careful with it and most of all enjoy it before he’s about to disappear into his room.

I remember seeing Dad yesterday and I should probably talk to him about it, it’s his dad too after all.

“Wait Yoongi,” I hesitate.

He turns around on his feet eyebrows raised a little, intently listening to whatever I have to say.

“I ran into Dad yesterday…” I can see his face drop instantly bombarding me with questions.

He’s worried, I can tell that whatever he said yesterday fades away just like that. He’s a softie deep inside.

I explained to him that I saw him in the elevator and that Jungkook saved me just in time, switching up the names cause I wouldn’t want to cause any more trouble.

“It hurts me too… I know you hate him and that you’re hurt, but I’m the person who had to live through all of it,” I sob softly.

He shushes me pulling me into a long hug, keeping me safe from anything and everything. “Be careful next time you go to Jungkook’s apartment okay, you don’t know what he’s capable of,”

“And call me if you see him, I promise I won’t lash out on you anymore,”

My tears are coming to a stop, leaving out water less and less. He asks me if he can do anything for me which I decline and then he really disappears into his room, wishing me a good night.

I feel so relieved. Things with Yoongi are good, Jungkook isn't embarrassed by me I think and I have a new freaking phone. It was time for an upgrade to be fair.

But I’ll set that up tomorrow, I’ll just watch a show and go to sleep cause I think I deserve some rest after everything that has been happening.

prev | next

[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: the knowledge that i started this THREE YEARS AGO FFS

//

Chapter Ten

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“4531?”

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

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

“Er… Back.”

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

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

“Nah, I never really revise for anything.”

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

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

“What, because you-”

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

“Kinda wanna hit you a bit more now.”

“Just come to the window.”

The line went dead with a faint clunk. Shaking your head fondly, you replaced the receiver then went to the window, as instructed.

It was almost insufferably hot in your flat. London in July was always awful. The buildings, built for keeping the heat in, left the air inside uncomfortably claggy and close, so you had all the windows flung open already.

Sticking your head out of the one in your kitchen, you peered down into the alley, just in time to catch John jogging round the corner, travelling far faster than you would have thought possible or safe considering his chunky platform boots.

For the first time in days - in fact, for the first time since you last saw him - you laughed.

“You’re daft, y’know that?” you shouted down.

Panting and grinning, John tilted his chin up to see you better.

“Good afternoon, Skip!”

The warm, yellow sunlight lit up his face, catching in his hair and making his eyes shine. John’s tiny T-shirt hugged his slim frame. He had a rucksack slung over his shoulder, his bony elbow sticking straight up in the air, like a model on the cover of a magazine. To call it a ‘bicep’ was generous, but his upper arm looked so good tensed like that, you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“Are you comin’ up?” you asked hopefully, letting your gaze slip up and down his body a few more times.

John smiled sheepishly.

“If that’s alright? I’ve got some work to do and there’s a big party tonight, so halls are a nightmare.”

“You’re not goin’?”

“Where?”

You laughed.

“To the disco!”

“Oh, right.”

John shrugged, then tilted his chin back even further, so now you could catch every angle of his lovely jaw and pale throat.

“I know where I’d rather be.”

Pressing down a charmed smile, you huffed and shook your head.

It turned out, you were right. When John walked into the bakery just before closing on that drizzly January night, you knew there was more to that anxious, fidgety boy with the daft hair and shabby clothes. You knew instinctively that if you just got him to relax, to smile and feel at home, he’d show a side of him that very few were lucky to know. Cheeky, silly, and divertingly charming. And it was just for you.

“Well,” You nodded your head back over your shoulder, gesturing to your living room. “You better come in then.”

John grinned.

In a blink, he had disappeared inside the back door to the bakery, then you could hear his heavy-booted footsteps on the stairs.

You wasted no time getting him comfortable. With only four weeks left till Alastair officially took hold of the bakery for good, you had begrudgingly, painfully begun sorting your things.

There were boxes piled up everywhere, some brimming with clothes for the charity shop, some packed full of bric-a-brac you’d collected over the years and couldn’t bear to part with, an all manner of books and records, teapots and cutlery, posters and jewellery. Some of it had managed to spill out from your living room into your bedroom, crowding the kitchen table and making it difficult to tread anywhere without toppling a pile of tat over.

You scooped up a stack of bills and letters from the coffee table and dumped them on the kitchen counter instead - a feeble solution but the only one you had.

“Here you are,” you said, brushing off imaginary dust from the low table so that John could place his rucksack down.

“Thanks, love. Erm, you know…” John chewed at the corner of his thumb, his gaze struggling valiantly to hold yours. “If you did wanna go out tonight, you still owe me a dance.”

“I do, don’t I.” You glanced in the direction of the boxes piled high against the doorframe of your bedroom. “I don’t think ‘ave any clothes, though.”

The corner of John’s mouth twitched. As he sank to his knees beside the table, he opened his bag and took out a few tedious looking books.

“Sounds fine to me.”

You rolled your eyes and gently hit his arm with a stray magazine you scooped up from the coffee table.

“Nice clothes.”

“You’ll look beautiful in anything.” Rubbing his arm dramatically, John smiled so broadly, it made his cheeks bunch up and his eyes shine. “I just wanna go out with you.”

It was unbearably tempting. The thought of being pressed up against John in a dark nightclub, the music thudding in your ears and his hands in yours, or on your hips, your back, wherever they wanted to be.

You could see it, John’s little curls sticking to his damp forehead and temples, his tight clothes clinging to his tiny frame, his funny mouth by your ear as he shouted over the music, asking if you wanted to get out of here.

You’d end up back at yours, falling onto your bed or even the sofa, if you couldn’t wait another second. You honestly couldn’t care less. You just wanted, needed John’s mouth on yours, on your neck, his big clumsy hands mapping your body and his pretty eyes gazing up at you, so dark and full.

He’d been on your mind since you met him, everyone knew it, even John. Dancing with him, letting him pull you into him, sinking your teeth into his neck and grabbing his hips tight - it sounded like heaven.

You smiled.

“I’d love that.”

“Yeah? Really?”

John looked so pleased, you could’ve kissed him. Instead, you thought about it, and pushed his books towards him across the table.

“Go on, you be’er get started.”

Turning away towards the kitchen, you bowed your head, tucking your chin into your chest to hide your broad, excited grin.

Your life had been turned upside down, the cardboard boxes littering your poky flat were a reminder of that, but John still managed to make you feel several stories high. Somehow, despite everything, he made you feel like the world wasn’t ending. Just having him near made you forget about life outside these four walls for a while. It was just you and him, safe in a sanctuary just for two.

“Tea?”

“Please.”

“Have you had lunch?”

You barely glanced over your shoulder. You could guess the sheepish expression on his face without needing to look.

“Stupid question,” You lifted the kettle from the stove and held it under the tap. “I’ll make us somethin’. Any preferences?”

When he didn’t respond, you frowned.

“John?”

You flipped off the tap and settled the kettle back on the stove. You twisted your wrist, igniting the hob, then turned to find John peering out of your front window. His bag and his books lay ignored on the coffee table.

“Johnny? You alright?”

He still didn’t seem to hear you.

Before you could ask what was wrong, John pressed nearer to the window, so close now that the tip of his nose was practically bent up against the glass.

“Er, Skip?”

You watched his brow furrow in the reflection of the window.

“Did you know he was coming over today?”

Bewildered, you went to join him at the window.

It was a busy day. The high street was always packed with brightly coloured people, rushing to work or flitting from shop to shop like butterflies between meadow flowers. Scarlet buses streaked past, and between them, dark cars slotted into place. They moved together, like bees in a hive, individuals all moving in one great dance.

But there was one figure unlike the others, and your heart sank to see him. He moved like a shark towards the bakery, steady and focused, his dark suit setting him unnervingly out of place amongst the sweet wrapper colours all around him. Alastair.

“What’s that bastard doing back ‘ere?”

Your teeth clenched, your jaw compressing so tightly, it began to ache. As you watched, he pushed open the door to the bakery and disappeared inside. Your hands balled into fists.

Without thinking, you immediately stormed back into the kitchen and wrenched the hob’s dial back to ‘off’.

“I can’t believe he’d-”

You couldn’t think straight. All your ideas and plans for a nice afternoon with John had slipped from your mind, as well as all reasonable and rational thought. You couldn’t remember ever being so angry in all your life.

“I can’t believe- ‘Asn’t he caused enough- He can’t just-”

You fizzled and sparked like a dying firework, your mind in a million different places. Finally, you caught John glancing towards the door. You seemed to have the same idea at the same time.

Heart racing, you thundered down the stairs, taking them two at a time. You were moving so quickly, you practically fell into the door at the bottom, with John picking his way much more carefully behind you.

“Wait, love,” he whispered, just a step behind you. “What are you going to-”

You took a deep breath, then placed both hands flat against the door and shoved.

You found Alastair leaning over Gladys, her cheek cradled in his hand. She was sitting in Mickey’s chair, her eyes closed, but her mouth was drawn into a thin line, like she was trying hard not to cry.

Alastair lazily turned his head in your direction, as if annoyed that you’d interrupted him. His dark eyes switched over your face, the way he always did, like he was assessing you, calculating your worth. This was as a man who saw the world in percentages and figures; people were just another commodity. You should never have let him into your bakery.

“Ah, the cavalry,” he drawled, already turning back to Gladys.

Alastair didn’t remove his hand, not immediately. Not until he’d dragged one long, angular thumb across Gladys’ painted cheek.

Her shoulders tensed, her eyes still squeezed shut, as if trying to take herself away from him, to somewhere safer. Gladys was clutching a bundle of folded papers, her fingers wrapped so tight around them that the paper was starting to audibly crease and bend.

“Glad, you don’t ‘ave to let ‘im in,” you said quietly.

You didn’t take your eyes off Alastair as he finally drew back his hand and slipped it into his pocket.

“Actually, she does.”

He pulled out a familiar set of keys. They twinkled and shone in the low light of the kitchen.

Beside you, John tensed.

Gladys’ spare lipgloss, a piece of pink ribbon from a dress she kept telling herself she’d fix, her own spare house key, painted purple with nail varnish, they glinted from the keyring hanging carelessly from the tip of Alastair’s bony index finger.

“This is my building,” he said, swinging Gladys’ keys back into the pocket of his immaculate jacket. “I own the lock.”

“Righ’, exactly,” You glanced at Gladys, trying to gauge if she was alright. “You already ‘ave everythin’ you want, why can’t you just leave us alone?”

“Well, I came to see my best girl.”

Alastair smiled coldly down at Gladys, who finally opened her eyes. They shone with tears.

“We have lunch plans. Don’t we, darling?”

“You’re joking,” John scoffed. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

He was standing close behind you, his chest almost pressed against your shoulder blade. It felt good to know he was close by and just as angry as you. Keeping your eyes on Gladys, you reached back and gently took his hand, giving it a grateful squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” Alastair’s nose wrinkled as he looked John up and down. “Why is the delivery boy talking to me?”

John’s hand tightened in yours. You could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off him, but Gladys rose to her feet before either of you could speak.

She reached out a hand, as if to place it on Alastair’s arm, then seemed to think better of it.

For the first time, you thought about what it must be like for her. Forty-seven years old, a business owner for twenty-five of those, a valued member of her community, and beneath the veneer of her brightly coloured clothes and wild hair, quietly and incredibly lonely.

You, Mickey, and now John were all she had. If a handsome, rich, seemingly kind man like Alastair had come along and swept you off your feet, you probably would’ve fallen for it too.

And now it was all gone, and she was alone again. And worse than that, the man who’d broken Gladys’ heart had taken everything she’d built away too, her business, her little family.

You hadn’t spoken to her about it, not really. You’d been so wrapped up in your own selfish anger, you just hadn’t thought. But as Gladys rose up and levelled Alastair’s gaze, you couldn’t help being immensely proud of your boss.

“You should go, Alastair,” she said, quietly yet firmly. “And don’t come back again. We don’t want you ‘ere.”

Alastair seemed unbothered, though perhaps a little surprised. He chewed the inside of his cheek, as if debating whether he should try to sweet talk her round, one last deception, but eventually, he raised his smooth hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine. Fair enough. We’ve said everything we need to say, haven’t we, dear?”

He smiled wolfishly at Gladys.

She just stared at the centre of chest, unblinking, her mind probably a million miles away, somewhere better.

The bakery door swished open with a bright chime.

You looked round to see Mickey in the doorway. When he saw Alastair in the kitchen, his warm face immediately sank into anger and he stopped mid-stride, his palm still pressed against the glass in the door.

Mickey was a good half a foot taller than Alastair, and one of Mickey’s biceps was about the same size as his head. Worst of all, Alastair had upset Gladys, and you, and worried Mickey’s family. There wasn’t a safe place to stand.

Alastair seemed to realise this too. It was the first time you’d seen him look even remotely flustered.

“Well, you all have a lot to discuss. I’ll leave you to it. Have a good weekend, everyone.”

He squeezed Gladys’ shoulder, making John huff and your fists clench. Then he edged towards the door, ducking under Mickey’s enormous arm, and hurried around the road.

As soon as he was out of sight, Mickey let the door swing shut with a bang.

“What was that twat doing ‘ere?”

You ignored him, choosing instead to take Gladys’ hands. They felt cold in yours, like all the life had been drained from her just by being near to Alastair again.

“Gladys, what did ‘e say to you?”

“Nothin’, nothin’.” She sniffed and blinked away tears, turning her face to the ceiling. “He just came for the paperwork and to let me know that the builders will be in next week. And to drop off this.”

She chucked the stack of papers Alastair had given her onto the nearest counter, letting them spill out and flutter. Some even fell to the floor.

You watched Gladys, waiting for a ‘but’, waiting for her to say it was all going to be alright. Slowly, then all at once in a sickening rush, her words finally sank in.

“Next… Next week?”

You felt your stomach twist and knot, your throat so tight, you couldn’t speak. The kitchen seemed to darken at the corners.

This place that had been home to you, this place that had housed you, fed you, given you purpose, led you to your new family, to John, it was being pulled from your grasp and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

You looked back at Mickey.

For such a big man, he suddenly seemed like a lost little boy. His broad shoulders were low, his gaze fixed on the floor, his huge hands bunched at his sides. His second home had been taken from him too, the place that let him do the work he loved, the place that supported his wife and daughter, the two loves of his life.

Finally, you looked at John, only to find him already gazing at you.

You knew what 64 Oslo Square meant to him, what it had given him. The bakery had been an escape, from uni, from his lonely halls, from worrying where his next meal would be coming from. Oslo Square had been a warm embrace, a place to grow and learn, and a reminder that there was more to life than exams, dingy tube rides, and lugging a heavy bass guitar around.

His expression, as always, remained fairly impassive. But when you met his eyes, John softened, only a touch, but you caught it. He was just as heartbroken, and for once, logic and reason wouldn’t give him a distraction or a way out.

The ringing in your ears grew louder and louder as the kitchen began to spin around you, and all that really registered was the deep bass drum of your heart.

You were faintly aware of Gladys talking as tears streaked down her face, carving dark mascara lines into her bright pink cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, love.” She took your hand, then Mickey’s. “Both of you, I’m so sorry. I thought I’d be able to think of a way out of this but ‘e’s- ‘E’s got it all there in black and white, darlin’s .”

John’s sharp eyes fell to the papers Gladys had discarded on the counter.

“It’s alright,” Mickey tried to summon a smile as he squeezed Gladys’ hand. “Don’t upset yourself, love. C’mon, now. It’s alrigh’, Glad. We’ll be okay.”

“But what am I gonna do with myself? Eh? Without the shop I’m… I’m just a li’le old lady.”

Gladys brushed away her tears, smearing black smudges across the back of her hand.

From behind you, John held out a tissue he must’ve silently gone to grab.

Gladys took it gratefully.

“And you,” She patted Mickey’s broad chest. “You’ve got your family. And you, sweetheart, you’re-”

You looked back at John. He gave you the tiniest smile, so faint you barely caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t warm, it wasn’t soft, but it was full of promise, and when he nodded quickly, his hazy grey eyes switching nervously between yours and somewhere near your collar, you knew what he was trying to say.

“I’ll be okay, Glad,” you said, grabbing her another tissue.

“Oh,” Gladys sobbed. “And it’s nearly your birthday!”

You exhaled sharply, taken-aback.

“Well, that’s- That’s very sweet of you, Gladys, but that’s the least of me worries, right now.”

“It’s nearly your birthday?” John asked.

You nodded.

“At the end of the month.”

“You never told me.”

“Well, it didn’t seem very important, considering...”

“And it was gonna be such a special one, too,” Gladys wailed.

You frowned, glancing at Mickey for help.

“Was it?”

Gladys sighed as she dabbed at her eyes, pressing blue eyeshadow into the creases by her nose and right up to her painted eyebrows.

“I was gonna to surprise you. Well, I- It was always gonna be- It would’ve been for your birthday or for your anniversary here, whichever came first and now…”

You have a hollow laugh, hardly listening now.

“It’s fine, Gladys. Don’ worry.”

But John frowned

“What was?”

Gladys looked up.

“Hm?”

“What was the surprise?”

“Well, I went to the- Oh, what d’you call it? Henry sor’ed it for me a few months ago.”

“Henry?”

“Her uncle,” Mickey put in helpfully. “He’s a lawyer.”

“Really?”

“Well, not legally, I s’pose.”

“Anyway, he sorted it with Companies House and…” Gladys sighed again and sank back down into Mickey’s chair, her hands folded and shaking slightly in her lap. “I’m sorry, love. I had him add your name to the deed. I thought it would be a nice present. Wan’ed to show my appreciation for all your ‘ard work over the years, y’know.”

Silence fell in the kitchen. All eyes turned to you.

“You added…”

You tried to speak but found you couldn’t actually say the words out loud.

Mickey looked gobsmacked, like he too couldn’t believe what he’d heard. You’d worked together for years, he’d heard you harping on about your dream for longer than he’d known his own wife, about how you would own 64 Oslo Square one day and how wonderful it would feel, to be your own boss, to be in control for once in your life, to make decisions and create something that you and your community could be proud of.

You glanced sideways at John. Beside you, always right beside you. He never gave much away, not when it wasn’t just you and him, so his expression remained flat. But there, there in the outer corners of his eyes, in the slightest dip of his eyebrows, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, you knew he was thinking exactly what you were.

How cruel. How cruel to give you what you’d always wanted, but give it too late. How cruel to give only to take away again.

“When did this happen?” John asked, ever the pragmatist, needing all the information before making a decision.

“Oh,” Gladys flapped an airy hand, not seeming to realise the gravity of her news. “Months ago. Who can keep track of that sort of- Before you started ‘ere, New Boy. At least.”

“So,” John looked at you, his eyebrows pushed together. “You’re part-owner?”

You opened your mouth to respond but Gladys grabbed your hand.

“You’ve just always been so wonderful and this place is practically half yours anyway, I thought, y’know, in a couple of years, I could retire and you could take over. It’s always been the plan.”

“Oh, Glad…” You forced a smile though it barely touched your eyes. “That’s really sweet of you.”

John pointed at the papers Gladys had carelessly discarded on the counter.

“Is that the contract you signed with Alastair?”

You frowned at him in consternation but his expression gave nothing away.

Gladys had barely begun to nod when John grabbed for the papers, gathering them up in his hands almost frantically. He scanned the pages, his clever eyes rapidly darting back and forth.

“Look, it doesn’t ma’er now,” Mickey said gently. “We’re not just gonna let you fade away, Glad, I promise. When I find a new job, I’ll see if they’ve got something for you too, eh? We’ll look after you. I promise. Won’t we, Captain?”

The idea stunned you even more than Mickey’s optimism, but Gladys looked up at you so helplessly, you couldn’t find it in you to be realistic with them.

“‘Course,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’ll sort somethin’ out.”

“She could always move in with you.”

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Mickey smiled genuinely for the first time that day. Beside him, still wiping away tears and trying her best to catch her breath, Gladys was starting to smile too.

“You mean you don’t want me kippin’ on your sofa?”

“I don’t even have a flat!”

“I thought you was movin’ in with ‘andsome over there.”

“I haven’t decided y- ‘Ang on, how do you know about that?”

“Walls ‘ave ears.”

“You two, I swear to-”

“He doesn’t have it.”

You all stopped bickering. One by one, you looked round to find John still staring at the contract.

His gaze was still, his lips slightly parted. His fingers were tight around the paper, just as Gladys’ had been, like he was terrified someone might take them from him.

“He-” You blinked, trying to figure out what he meant, but nothing sparked. “What?”

Finally, John raised his head.

“He doesn’t have the bakery,” he said slowly, steadily, as if he could hardly believe it himself. “Skip, you’re part-owner. Gladys put your name on the deed. She signed this contract but you didn’t. He doesn’t have anything, this is-”

For the first time in weeks, you heart began to beat again.

“Worthless,” you whispered.

John raised the papers for you to see but couldn’t take your eyes off him. If you looked, it meant everything would change, and you weren’t sure if you could take any more life-altering news.

Either he was wrong, and your broken heart would only grow heavier. Or John was right, and the world would be turned on its axis yet again. It was safer just to keep looking at John, keep your eyes fixed on his, and find your answer there.

“Wait,” Mickey shook his head, stunned. “So you’re sayin’-”

“I’m saying 64 Oslo Square is yours, Skip.” John pushed the contract firmly into your waiting hands. “Not Alastair’s.”

There was a pause, just a beat of silence, and then the bakery erupted.

Gladys shrieked as she leapt up from her chair, pumping her two fists above her head, like her team had just scored before the final whistle. She practically fell into you as she threw her arms around your neck in a hug tight enough to bruise.

Mickey grabbed John by the waist and heaved him up over his shoulder, hollering at the top of his lungs.

“Oh, you beauty!”

John gripped Mickey’s broad shoulders as they span around and around.

“Well, hang on. You’ll need a lawyer to confirm-”

“Oh, shu’ up, New Boy. You’re a fuckin’ diamond!”

You clapped your hand over your mouth as you watched the boys but your smile was far too wide to cover. You realised you were laughing with Gladys, with Mickey, laughing so loudly and jubilantly that you were sure passersby would be able to hear you outside on the road.

When Mickey finally put John down, he staggered in his heels, his head probably spinning, but you reached out and caught his hand before he could trip.

John beamed as you pulled him into you, his eyes bright and shining.

“I thought I might kiss you,” you said, just loud enough for John to hear.

His expression hardly changed. He just smiled at you, warm and gentle, but his eyes were alight. John inclined his head, his long hair falling around his face as he let you pull him in even closer.

“Yes, please,” he said softly, his smile growing wider.

“You proper little-” Gladys stuck her hands between you and grabbed John’s face, pulling him towards her instead. “Bobby-dazzler!”

Pulling him down to her height, Gladys peppered John’s face in kisses, leaving his cheeks stained with pink lipstick. She was so much shorter than him, John was practically bent in half, his face all screwed up as she pressed kiss after noisy kiss to his skin.

“Looks like Gladys has taken care of that for me,” you laughed.

John managed to shoot you a crooked grin before Gladys held him at arm’s length again.

“You,” she practically squeaked. “You are getting a pay-rise, New Boy. And another kiss, c’mere.”

Gladys pulled him down again, kissing all over his face while John laughed softly and let her.

Finally, when she had released him and John could breathe again, Gladys threw her arms around you, then Mickey.

“C’mon, pub,” she said. “I’m buyin’ everyone a drink and I’m not takin’ no for an answer.”

Her words washed over you like water on the shore. You were faintly aware of your family talking, still giggling and clutching each other tightly as they moved to the door, but you couldn’t focus properly.

Heart still thrumming in your chest, you couldn’t figure out how to make your mouth move. You wanted to call out to the others, to laugh, to cry, anything, but you felt numb in the very best way.

It was yours. 64 Oslo Square was yours.

When you finally managed to get your tongue working again, you leaned your body against the doorframe, catching the door with your foot so that you could lean out and say,

“You lot go on ahead. I’ll catch up in a minute.”

Mickey and Gladys hardly seemed to hear you. They were practically skipping down the road, singing an old drinking song as they swayed in the direction of The Gardener’s Arms.

Only John hesitated. He looked like he might protest but seemed to understand what you meant. Against the late afternoon sun, he seemed to glow as he glanced back over his shoulder. Finally, he gave you a small smile, then followed after the others.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you stood in the centre of the shop floor, waiting for the door to close behind you. The July heat didn’t seem quite so harsh anymore. In fact, everything seemed to have shifted slightly. The world was as it was, as it had always been, but the lead-like weight in your chest and on your shoulders was gone. You hadn’t felt so light in years.

Slowly, you turned on the spot, taking in what was now all yours.

The dark wooden shelves lined with tins and jars, bags of coffee, and photos of Gladys’ proud parents. The pinboard on the far wall, the step you tripped over every morning, the till that tried to bite your fingers every time it closed. The counter painted bright scarlet, just like the writing over the door, a door enrobed in bright summer flowers, lighting up the whole road. All yours.

Slipping your hands round to rest on your hips, you walked into the kitchen.

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the sight of the familiar, bottle-green stove. It seemed to smile back at you. The whole kitchen did. Battered old pots and pans, mosaic tiles that remembered the Blitz, the bins out the back. It was all so ordinary, all so completely conventional and prosaic.

You pulled in a long breath, filling up your lungs until you felt your chest rise. Yours.

The bakery’s front door opened with a bright chime. You heard quick footsteps cross the wooden floor, unfaltering, sure of their destination. With no one around, they echoed so unnaturally, it set your heart on edge.

You turned, smiling, and felt two hands slip around your jaw to cup your face, then John was kissing you. You knew it would be him. He’d promised you. John always kept his promises.

Your chest lurched as you pressed your palms against the backs of his hands, keeping them against your cheeks as his mouth moved against yours. A sob sat in your throat, half relief, half joy. You knew if you pulled away it would rise up, so you pressed closer, keeping your mouth against John’s.

He groaned softly against your lips, the sound starting in his throat and ending up in yours, and all the while he kissed you so sweetly, you could hardly believe you weren’t dreaming.

You grabbed handfuls of John’s shirt, keeping his narrow little body pressed tight against yours until you could almost feel his heart thumping against your chest. His hands slipped up into your hair, sending shivers over your skin as his blunt nails grazed your skin, then travelled down your back to your waist, where they found a home and squeezed softly.

It was simple, sweet, and when he pulled back to catch his breath, you could feel John’s hands were shaking slightly.

You half expected him to look worried, like he always did, so anxious and cautious, he could barely move a muscle. But there was no fear in John’s eyes. There was vulnerability and uncertainty, but only about what to do next, not of his actions, not about you.

“Oh, New Boy.” You smiled, lips tingling from the force of his kisses. “I said you’d be good for business, didn’t I.”

When John smiled back, something warm writhed in the pit of your belly. This stupid, lovely, gorgeous boy.

“Anything for you, love,” John said softly as he reached up and tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “You know me. Always anything for you.”

The next thing you knew, you had him pinned against the kitchen counter. He gasped sharply as the metal dug into his hip, but you were kissing him again before he had a chance to speak.

John’s hips fit so perfectly in your hands, you were sure he must’ve been made for you. His chest was warm and firm against yours as you leaned your body into his, and when one of his slim legs slipped between yours, you smiled, dragging your lips around the outline of his mouth.

“Easy, honey…”

John felt all the air squeeze from his lungs, his belly clenching. The edge of the counter was digging into his back, the metal cold even through his clothes, but he couldn’t care less. In fact, he liked it, liked how you kept him pinned against it, how little force you needed to get his body to comply, how your fingertips pressed into the tops of his thighs as you kissed him and kissed him.

You angled your head, catching his bottom lip with a playful flick of your tongue, and sucked, gently first, testing the waters, then again, harder.

John whimpered against your mouth as you kept him in his place but he never once made an attempt to move. In fact, his big hands slipped around your waist, holding your body against his, and when you pushed your knee between his thighs, you were certain you felt his hips rock towards yours.

He kissed like he needed it, needed you, like he’d been longing for this for a lifetime and could finally breathe. It had been a long, patient wait, but you were glad of it. Feeling John moan softly against your mouth, his needy hands grabbing at you, the culmination of months of craving, aching, hungry love, it was unlike anything you’d ever known, and when he pressed even closer, until his nose was crammed against your cheek and you couldn’t tell where you ended and John began, you knew he felt it too.

John whined pitifully when you finally pulled away. You hadn’t expected him to be quite so vocal but it made your chest heave.

John blinked down at you, panting, dizzy. Your face was flushed, and when his eyes dropped down to watch your tongue swipe his taste off your lips, his knees nearly gave out. His breath caught in his throat when he realised he could still feel you smiling against his mouth.

You were torn in several different directions. Mickey and Gladys would be expecting you in the pub. There were countless boxes, all waiting to be unpacked, sat upstairs for you. The cake batter you’d been about to bake still sat, abandoned, on the side, and you had a nice boy to kiss and kiss and kiss. The choice was easy.

Grinning, you took John’s hand and pulled him in the direction of the stairs.

“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse.

You pulled open the door up to your flat and shot him a bright smile.

“Dancin’.”

//

Master List

[southernbluebellereader]

baby you KNOW I'm gonna go for baby boy price. Also yk that one audio on TikTok of pops from the regular show giggling? That was me every time I saw price while watching my partner play mw + mw2

Price will blow his cigar smoke in your face, if you're okay w it, before any kiss while he's smoking. He loves how the scent of it clings to your skin and hair and everybody knows who is the cause.

Tells you that you "weaken him to the fullest" and he means it in more ways than one.

Will spoon feed you if you get tired of eating but are still hungry, especially while you're sick. Muttering praises the entire time. "tha's my lovie. Gotta get you full, yea? Gonna make you strong like me"

Price is a bit of a tea snob and takes you to his favorite tea store as a cute date. Walls lined with numerous tins, the clerk welcoming him by name. It's his own safe haven from....well, everything. He leaves his title of captain at the door and is just a man, looking for his beloved tea.

Calls you pretty thing while he's splitting you on his cock, talking you through the delicious burn. Holding your knees up to your ears as he tells you how good you're taking him.

Sundays are his cleaning days when he's off base. The bedroom gets swept and mopped, bedding gets washed and anything left from the week that hasn't been finished gets done. He enjoys involving you in his routines, they're greatly important to him.

Tells you how good you are when you suck him off, while calling you his precious slut in the same breath. As well as how pretty you look drooling over his fat cock.

Price is scared of a pretty young thing like you settling for him. He wants you to be happy, more than he wants you. It would break his heart but he isn't known to be a selfish man. You'd make the strong captain crumble but he wouldn't stop you, fearing he would make it worse. He'd promise to always be there, and if you're hurt or in danger or anything, he'll answer the call no matter how late. Because it's you.

It's odd for him to have someone to come home to but it's a welcome change. The small house smelling of baked goods and cute lamps that give the living room a warm glow, something he would have never thought he'd miss until he met you.

He teaches you his beard care routine in case he isn't able to do it. Telling you what every item does and why he uses it. Gently guiding your own hands as they work through his whiskers.

tehe -🦇

Literally I’m about to cry real tears because I want this to be real 😭🥺

Price deserved the domesticity. He desperately deserves it. He’s a little stubborn at first when it comes to letting you in on his routines, but he also wants you to be a part of his routines. He’s so used to being in charge.

But for you? He’s trying his absolute best and doesn’t want to disappoint you. But you always tell him how impossible that is.

And so you know how giddy he gets when you tell him that you’re proud of him? He hasn’t heard it in a long time, but just hearing you tell him that turns him into an absolute puddle for you

[hydok]

I posted 6,916 times in 2022

That's 3,995 more posts than 2021!

25 posts created (0%)

6,891 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@trekfaerie

@laora-ryn

@kaen-ace-of-diamonds

@lunar-resonance

@needlekind

I tagged 728 of my posts in 2022

#yeah - 38 posts

#adhd stuff - 26 posts

#ace stuff - 11 posts

#oh - 7 posts

#brb guillotines - 7 posts

#ane - 7 posts

#suddenly a fic - 7 posts

#oh no - 4 posts

#incredible - 4 posts

#im hollering - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#i fully accept that given these details i absolutely sound like ta but what she didnt mention is that there was grass on these sandwiches

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

you’ve got to give it to ohkubo the man at least included in his visual dictionary the face people make when they consider his writing choices

7 notes - Posted February 20, 2022

#4

i hate ohkubo i want this man to stop creating anything that might be interpreted as new soul eater content

7 notes - Posted February 19, 2022

#3

"written by matteo jwhj 0715" they say, like it wasn't based off of the play by jára cimrman

smh

8 notes - Posted November 20, 2022

#2

adhd lifehack: roomba

and like i know i know theyre expensive but i hadnt vacuumed for over six months (because adhd) and then i spent $179.99 on black friday last year and in exchage i got a little robot hockey puck (her name is birdy because she chirps) who every tuesday, thursday, and sunday wanders around my studio apartment and bumps into walls and eats all the cat hair and hay and rabbit poop and all i have to do is rescue her if she gets trapped by horrors beyond her comprehension (the bench with mirrored legs) and clean out her compartment (easy it just pops out and i dump it in the trash).

no longer do i get paralyzed by the Cleaning Terrors of "oh my floor is gross im a failure of an adult i have to clean it but in order to clean it i have to move furniture and then deal with the vacuum and go over spots and it takes so long i cant but im a failure of an adult i cant do anything else cleaning because of how bad my floor is"

my floor is clean, it's nice to walk on, all the other adulting cleanliness tasks become so much easier because the elephant in the room has been taken out back and shot by a tiny robot maid with a gun

31 notes - Posted September 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

thinkin about..... justin law again..... like i have for the past literal decade and counting....

im still mad about the soul eater manga for many reasons but one of them one of the big reasons is justin law

because on the surface yeah it's "the creepy hyperviolent religion obsessed weirdo who is out of touch with social and even religious norms picks a new god and goes off the rails" concept which is fine it fits the soul eater vibe it's even got echos of asura's fall from grace

and yeah "he went insane because he neglected to form the proper weapon-meister social bond" is fitting for soul eater as well and really hammers in the difference between justin (who in the series is presented as someone who could not be saved) and stein (whose bonds are what make him someone the series decides should be saved)

and okay fine "he attacked and decapitated the one friend he had, the only person who tried to reach out to him" does hammer that in. (though tbh tezca is. bad. thats not a friend)

and yes it's a shonen series with a huge emphasis on bonds so it's genre appropriate that the adults stand around and go "this teenager cannot be saved because he failed to form friendships and so no one cares about him enough to go after him"

except

one problem

and that problem is very very simple and very very obvious and very very baked into justin law's entire character

and it's the problem of his weapon form.

because justin law is a guillotine.

because ohkubo made it extremely clear that justin physically cannot have a meister.

because the entire message of "you need to have friends and you need people around you who understand you" falls completely apart when the character used by the author as the example was designed by the author to be physically incapable of forming the bonds every other character has and excuse me ohkubo you're telling me what? he thought this was clever? he thought going "im going to make a character who cannot form a meister-weapon bond and play him up as cool for fighting solo and make him go evil to really bring it home that you need friends" was a clever idea? it's ohkubo so probably

but actually ohkubo just made a character who was physically barred from forming proper relationships with others, and then had every responsible adult in this character's life look at him and by the time he was thirteen go "not only is this good that he's socially isolated and doesn't have a life partner like everyone else does by this age, we should give him a role in our organization where he works solo all the time. this is a good idea. this will not backfire on anyone involved in any way." and by the time he was seventeen the adults went "if only he had made proper social bonds he would have someone who cared enough to save him from getting his soul clownjacked by an incarnation of the god of madness"

and it is almost 2023 and ohkubo stopped writing soul eater in 2013 (and stopped caring about the series in like idk 2010 at the latest) and i am still thinking too much about this asshole teenage sadist who according to the manga got exactly what he deserved but really deserved so much better

64 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[annieintheaair]

Some things they get lost and then get found, and some things are better the second time around.

It's funny how some things come back around, and I was thinking, what if we just let the past sink into the deep end, we could just pretend we never moved on, pick up right where we were last... Let bygones be bygones and don't leave a good thing gone too long.

I am obsessed with the new Troy Cartwright album that was just released this week. The whole album is amazing. To summarize, he sings about love lost. It really gets you thinking. The song Bygones was confusing to me initially though I loved it the first time I heard it. A bygone, by definition, is a thing from an earlier time. When he says "let bygones be bygones" it first makes you think he's saying to let those of the past go but deeper into the lyrics, it's clear that he's saying to leave the past in the past but don't let a good thing go for too long and pick up where you left off (before it went wrong and ended).

By definition, "let bygones be bygones" means to forget about unpleasant things that happened in the past, and especially to forgive and forget something bad that someone has done to you. Now that you know what the song is about, go listen to it and let it just rip your heart wide open. I mean, the lyrics really speak to me.

Anyway, this last week has been busy. I was able to fit in yoga classes nearly every day and had somewhat of a self-care week. I got my hair done on Wednesday and my hairdresser, Nikole, asked me if I'd be a hair model for an upcoming photoshoot, which is pretty exciting.

I started a new bible study on Thursday morning. We're studying Jude and it's a 7 week study. Kathryn was able to get me moved into her group and it seems like a great group of people. I'm really excited to be part of it.

On Friday, my landlord came over in the morning and put up curtain rods for me so that I could hang my curtains, finally. Curtains make such a difference!

After my landlord left, I drove to Hideaway Pizza since they're opening a new location in the next town over. I signed up to get some free takeout and ended up with a pizza, salad, and baked ziti. I stopped at Black Rock on my way home because I needed some caffeine.

Friday afternoon I had my first microdermabrasion facial. It was pretty amazing and made my skin feel so clean and clear. I bought a 2-pack on Groupon so I have another one in a few weeks.

When I got home from work on Saturday morning, I decided to go get my lashes done. I never do fake lashes but love the Keratin lash lift and tint. It's perfect because now I can skip wearing mascara and avoid getting it in my eyes when I sleep during my ODANs at work. Immediately after that, I ran home quickly and then went to a yoga class in Dallas. One of my favorite instructors, Destiny, instructs there and since my regular studio near my house closed down this week (I had two final classes this past week with Heather), I thought it would be good to try a new studio. I am still feeling the effects of that class!

After yoga, I went to the nail salon for a mani/pedi. I love going on days off from work so I can have a drink and they make the best Blue Hawaiians.

When I got home, Marx came over and we went to Total Wine and then jumped in the pool for a bit until I had to get ready to meet Jillian for dinner. We went to Quartino, which was pretty good, and then walked around a night market until I got too tired and had to head home. I was going to meet Eric and Matt at Truck Yard but I had no energy left. I literally went home, put my pajamas on, and crashed on my couch immediately before finally going upstairs to bed at midnight.

Sunday morning I was supposed to meet Matt at the lake for a Trump parade but I couldn't get myself out of bed until 10am and then ended up going to church. I ended up having a pretty lazy Sunday, which was actually a good thing considering work was pretty hellish last night having to deal with weather delays, mechanicals, and then pilots going illegal. We got to Tulsa so late that we had barely any time to sleep. When I got home this morning, I got a few things done and then took a nap on my couch.

I guess I felt some sort of motivation when I woke up this afternoon because I finally put my lamps next to my bed. Since it was my third time installing them, it went super quick. I feel like now I finally have the hang of it. It's good to know that I'll be home tonight and that's done.

Tonight I'm going to a RoughRiders game with my neighbors and Marx. We got tickets for the lazy river. For years, I have wanted to float the river while watching the game but never did it. When I received a text the other day with a special price to do it, I texted everyone and luckily they were all down to do it for Labor Day.

Anyway, I'll end this post with the new Troy Cartwright song, Same:

Are you up late Cause you can't sleep Does your heartache For some used to be You say you'd feel a lot better If we put it back together Like nothin' really ever changed

You say you think about us all the time Keep talkin' girl you're readin' my mind You're wishin' that we never said goodbye Well right back at ya, yeah it just so happens That's the same thing I've been doin' Since it all went up in flames

xoxo

Annie

[simple-life2]

Again?

On Saturday, it always a very relaxing day at that date I started to wake up at exactly 4AM to jog and look at the sunrise as I take a rest and be by myself and bought some bread as I go back home take a nice cold shower to relieve some stress after the school day. After taking a shower I made coffee as I play a soothing music and watch the farmers on the strawberry farm and watch some flying and singing birds as I take a sip of the coffee little by little, after a relaxing time I started to do some chores at home such as cleaning ,washing some clothes and water the plants as my father cook some food for us after those I went straight to the couch and open my laptop to play

On Sunday, the same as usual but not literally, I went to take a jog, go back home, drink some coffee and do some chores, but this time I watched some home cooking and baking in YouTube and that took 2 hours of my time, after watching I went out to take a stroll for almost 5 hours take some pictures of the place and draw and write and read with my free time, after a long walk I took a bath and brew some coffee on my aunts house because it's the closest, because the lace is high the breeze is refreshing and relaxing, because of that I went back home to take a nap.

[hieuthong]

Entry 1

Fun week not gonna lie however a lot of money was spent.. I don’t even want to check my bank account :/ This week was the start of a new semester and also my birthday so i went out with some of friends to celebrate hence why i spent so much money </3. I’ll start by talking about how i celebrated my birthday.

On the 20th Saturday (not this week but i figured it’ll be nice to include it as well) I celebrated my birthday early with my family, we ate at this restaurant called “Sold Out” if i’m not mistaken. We ordered a pizza, lasagna and some mutton curry dish to share. We only ordered three dishes since our neither of us have a big appetite. We chatted over dinner and overall had a great time. We then went home and ate the cake they bought for my birthday, the cake was quite big and we were all already very full but my dad didn’t want us to keep it overnight so he forced us to chuck it down… it was a nice cake though

Sunday, 21st, i went out with my childhood friends to celebrate my birthday!! We went to this cafe called Nippori to eat brunch. The food there quite decent but the environment was really nice. We got chased out of the restaurant for taking too long because there was a time limit for how long we could dine. Was it worth it though?? Lowkey yes, took some really cute pictures with them! They also baked one and bought one cake for me, the one they baked HAD MY FACE ON IT? i was genuinely so shock with the cake they baked?? (the cake WAS NOT FULLY COOKED BY THE WAY 😭) We also dropped by One Utama just to visit the photo booth to once again take pictures.. girlhood for real! but i feel like we got scammed?! THE PHOTOBOOTH COSTED RM50 FOR 4 COPIES? Never going back there 💀.

Moving on to the actual week, Monday, 22nd which is my birthday! and unfortunately also the first day of a new semester 😔 Before attending my first class i went to get brunch with some of my friends from foundation to celebrate my birthday then rotted at the registry until 3 for my first class. To be honest, i genuinely thought the first week, lecturers would just brief us on our course and assignments then let us leave since it was like this for the past few semesters but i was wrong haha.. the lecturers stared teaching first week.

Wednesday, 24th i went out with my fellow January baby friends to celebrate our birthday together. We went for lunch and karaoke. The karaoke was so expensive?? they had this thing called public eve?? so they charged us the same price as public holiday </3 My friend also crocheted Miffy for me as my birthday gift, it’s so cute! I named it Tiffany HAHAHA and Oh My God also the rain was so heavy that day, so many trees fell in my neighbourhood like it blocked the whole road?! It was so jam too?!?! my mom called me to take the other road back but i was already mid jam, and when i was almost near my house like literally one turn and i’ll be home THERE WAS A POLICE BLOCK! THEY WANTED US TO U-TURN TO TAKE THE OTHER ROAD BACK 😭 So i was stuck in traffic for another 15 to 20 minutes.

Thursday, 25th was Thaipusam public holiday so i didn’t have any class. I actually made plans on this day to go out with my significant other but my mom TOLD ME TO CANCEL BECAUSE SHE WANTED TO SPRING CLEAN 😭 So i did that.. we threw out so many things, usually i would be hesitant to throw away my old stuff because of how attached i am to it but this time i just threw them away without batting a single eye! (I’m so proud of myself) I also cleared out a lot of old clothes which i was originally going to recycle and donate them but today i found out you can actually sell them to second hand clothing shops. So i’m going to do that instead and only recycle/donate them if they reject the clothes.

Friday, 26th, so remember how i said i had cancel my plans made during thaipusam? so i postponed it to this day. I went out with my significant other after his class ended to grab lunch. We chatted over lunch but it was mostly me yapping the whole time. Honestly i think i yap too much but whatever HAHAHA Ohh and during my semester break i picked up on crocheting so i crocheted him a rose BUT JUST RIGHT BEFORE I WANTED TO GIVE IT TO HIM I BROKE THE STEM </3 so he now he hets a flimsy, wonky looking rose :( Then he gave me my birthday present and let me tell you i am so GRATEFUL for it🙏🏻🙏🏻 because he really did not have to. Originally i had physical class that day but it was changed to online so i had to go back home to attend my class.

Saturday, 27th. My weekends are usually quite boring cause it’s just me going to work. I currently work as a part time admin at a tuition centre. Nothing much happened just my usual work. However after work my parents wanted to go to KL specifically chinatown to look at CNY decos and stuff but most of the stores were already closed cause it was already night. So we ended up just strolling around there.

Sunday, 28th. Nothing much happened to be honest. Me, my sister and my mom did some last minute chinese new year clothes shopping. That was pretty much it

[pepprs]

tess pepprs roommate nuisance

[futuredilfharrington]

Girl-Dad! Steve Harrington Part 2

YOU GUYS :') If you don't follow me and didn't see my other post I want to thank everyone who interacted with part one of this!!! Special shoutout to those of you who reblogged, you have my heart <3. The previous part of this literally got more than double the notes of any other post I've ever made in LESS than one day!

IDK how many parts this will have, I'm just going where the wind takes me lol.

Part One

~As soon as you're recovered from giving birth (both mentally and physically) you get pregnant again... We're talking Irish twins babey.

~Steve is so excited and you always hear him on the baby monitor and from the other room talking to Rose about her new sibling

~He'll be doing tummy-time with her and just babble on and on about you and how she's going to be a big sister soon

~This time around Steve has "no preference," although from the way he's not buying many new things you can kind of tell he's hoping to use all of Rose's hand-me-downs for the next baby

"Pink could be both genders, y/n" "I know, Stevie, it's just a little suspicious, don't you think?"

~You don't do a gender reveal this time around. It's your second baby and it feels weird to force everyone into doing the whole nine yards less than a year after the last time.

~Instead you and Steve go to the bakery in downtown Hawkins and give them the sealed envelope the doctor wrote the gender in and ask if they'll bake a reveal cake just for the two (three if you count Rose, but she's not quite eating cake yet)

~A few days later the three of you eat dinner, Rose happily babbling away, and bring out the little white cake for dessert

~Steve slides his chair over to your side of the table and you hold the knife together as you cut out a little slice of the pink sponge.

~Immediately Steve whoops and grabs Rose from her spot kissing her forehead and telling her she's going to have a baby sister before turning to you and pressing a kiss onto the top of your head

~If Steve's "Man Friends" weren't grumbling to him before, they sure are now.

~Some of his relatives will call to congratulate you after sending out your pregnancy announcement and when you pass the phone over to Steve and leave while they finish talking he always comes to find you and Rose with a sour look on his face that only softens when he has you both in his arms

~One night when you're laying in bed he finally tells you that they keep telling him his "swimmers" must not be very strong, that he needs to have a boy to carry on the Harrington name, that he's going to be in hot water being outnumbered by all the estrogen in the house

~The second one is the thing that bothers him the most...

"Maybe I don't want to carry on the Harrington name... I'm fine if our branch ends with me"

~You kiss him and tell him that the only people who have any say over how your family runs are you and him and you fall asleep tangled together

~This time around Steve refuses to leave you alone anywhere NEAR your due date.

~You wake up one morning to gentle contractions and don't tell him so he doesn't sweep you to the hospital hours too early only to get sent back home.

~(You do call Dustin, your driver now since Robin moved Chicago, and let him know to be on deck)

~Steve is eying you suspiciously all day, it's Sunday, cleaning day, and what better way to distract yourself than making sure the house will be clean when you bring the new baby home.

~When you keep excusing yourself every so often to have a contraction in the other room Steve finally figures it out and sounds the alarm

~Dustin drives Will, El, and Joyce to your house to watch after Rose, and Max and Lucas are set to relieve them from babysitting duty depending on how long you're gone

~Steve is beside himself with Dustin driving. He insists that you make a mad dash to the hospital but you tell Dustin that he can take his time and that the baby isn't coming out anytime soon.

"Shithead, she needs to get to the hospital NOW!"

"Given that y/n is the one actively giving birth right now, I think I'm going to listen to her and not you, Steve"

~This baby does NOT want to come out.

~It's a rough labour, you spend most of the time either breaking Steve's hand or cursing him, vowing that you'll never let him touch you again

"I hope you're happy with two, Harrington. You'll be lucky if I even let you in the same room as me again"

"I won't even look at you, baby, I swear"

~There's lots of shouting from you, and even more apologies from Steve

"You can do it y/n. You're so strong and beautifu-"

"Really, Steve? I'm really beautiful right now? Fuck off!"

"You've given me two daughters, you're a wonderful wife and moth-"

"Not now, Steven"

"Sorry, baby"

~ At the end of it all, you and Steve get to welcome your youngest into the world: Victoria Alice Harrington

Bonus content:

~You and Steve are sitting on your hospital bed together watching as Torie grabs at his fingers in her sleep...

"Doesn't this just make you want another one?"

"Get out of my bed right now, Harrington"

[hederasgarden]

I love your writing so so much 💕 Six comes out so authentic in your fics, its really spectacular. I can literally picture him living life and making love to someone like you describe 👌 Please write more about Six! Eagerly waiting for the angsty housewife piece 🤤

I appreciate that!

Here's a sneak peek for you anon! No real warnings here except Six does watch the reader without her knowledge but it's all above board.

Six doesn’t mean to watch you.

He knows it’s wrong, a violation of privacy, but after all the awful things he’s done, it seems small by comparison. Each time he finds his eyes drawn to you he promises himself it’s the last. It’s a lie of course because being stuck in a safe house for hours on end, there isn’t much else to do. You live next door to the mark he’s collecting intel on. The blinds to your living room and bedroom are always drawn, but he can see into your kitchen where you spend most of your time.

It’s oddly relaxing to watch you do mundane things like cooking dinner or baking cookies. You spend your morning before work reading from your tablet and drinking coffee at the little table you’ve wedged under the large window. Sometimes you’ll do the crossword there on Sundays, nose scrunched up as you solve the riddles and pencil in your answer. There’s a row of potted plants on the shelf that you take meticulous care of. You water them and clean the dust off their leaves with a damp cloth weekly.

He loves the cooler days the best when you’ll throw open the window and he can hear the soft music you play and catch the smell of whatever you’re cooking. You’ve been baking more recently, experimenting with decorating cupcakes and cookies. Six admires the concentration it takes to sit bent over the table to painstakingly create intricate designs for long stretches of time. He imagines you giving treats to your coworkers and friends. He knows they'd taste good, infused with the love and dedication you pour into them.

[thatjadedhotmess]

The Adeptal Arts of Baking

pairings: shenhe x gn!reader

warnings⚠️: fluff, playful flirting, reader is considerably shorter than shenhe, one (1) mention of mommy milkers and boobs, shenhe rage quit moments, a tad bit of cursing and so many kisses

synopsis: shenhe and you baking for the first time. she has no idea what to do bc she literally only eats herbs.

wc: 1.6k~

note: this took way too long im sorry this came out so late skfnskfnke I hope you enjoy it <3 again if you have any constructive criticism feel free to correct me on it tysm !:3

posted on: 01/02/22

"babe, I can't seem to crack this egg without not breaking the yolks." shenhe whined out. She was standing at the kitchen counter, attempting to crack eggs to separate the yolks and the whites.

Well, the recipe called for 7 eggs. So far she's gone through 2 trays of eggs since she hadn't been able to successfully crack an egg without cracking the yolk in the process.

it's safe to say that this was most definitely not shenhe's forte with how frustrated she looked.

"im going to murder the mother of these damn eggs." she said, cracking up another egg in the palm of her hand before she dropped the remains in to the sink.

"It's ok shen, we still have 1 more tray of eggs, they're in the fridge." you giggled out, moving over to where shenhe was from your seat to help her clean up the mess of eggs that were about to drip off the counter and on to the floor.

you and shenhe had decided that since it was a Sunday morning and that the both of you were up, you guys would do something more, fun and relaxing for a change.

you remembered that yesterday you and shenhe had paid a visit to the farmer's market and the eggs were on discount. $9.90 for 3 trays of 12 eggs.

I mean seriously, who would miss out on an offer like that? Along with the eggs, you guys managed to snatch a few super sweet oranges at a discount too.

with all those eggs and oranges, you had planned to bake orange chiffon cakes with shenhe. who had also just mentioned to you that she had never baked before.

with her living in the mountains and all, and practicing her adeptal and exorcism arts, she barely had any time to explore anything outside of her set routine.

"you didn't ask babe, besides, it's not that important." she let out a little hmph, crossing her arms over her chest, accentuating her… boobs.

damn them mommy milkers… stop it y/n ! smacking both sides of your flushed cheeks, you quickly averted your gaze back to the oranges that you were zesting praying that shenhe didn't notice your gaze that lingered for a second too long.

unluckily for you however, your hand holding the zester had accidentally slipped, causing you to scrape your knuckles against the zester.

"ahh dammit," you winced out, your fresh wound coming into contact with some of the acidic juices from the orange. quickly, you pressed your lips against your fingers in hopes that the stinging sensation would go away.

"here let me help," shenhe quickly turned around, alarmed by your frightened gasp. her long hair almost whipping your face. she made her way over to where you were sitting, at the dining table.

taking your injured hand in her own, she placed a small kiss on your knuckle before pressing her own lips onto the still bleeding injury, sucking off the small bead of fresh blood that had just formed.

seeing her actions, you whipped your head to face away from her, your face turning flush, into a rosy red at the fact that your girlfriend just kissed and placed her lips against your wound.

"ahhh shenhe I think I'm fine now." a quiet giggle passing your lips. with the scarlet hue still very much evident on your face, you decided to attempt to push shenhe away from you and your hand. thankfully succeeding.

"maybe i'll be better at doing that." shenhe passed you a plaster she had taken from the first aid kit, tilting her head in the direction of the orange zest in a bowl. she then proceeded to pick up the grater and orange off the table and looked at it, trying to make sense of how to use it.

also partially because she had never seen such a strange piece of metal in her life.

"ahh shen, please be careful with that, I don't want you to hurt yourself like me-" you had warned a tad too late, seeing as shenhe had also scraped her knuckle against the metal piece.

"breathe shenhe, breathe," she let out a harsh exhale in an attempt to calm herself down. well uhh, that didn't really work out.

"OH MY ARCHONS WHAT THE FU-" you let out a small yelp of surprise. quickly, you got on your tiptoes, slapping your hand over her mouth, making her let out a squeal that you felt against your palm simultaneously pulling her down because of how tall she was. This caused her to almost fall backwards onto you but thank the archons that she had good balance.

you quickly let out a small sorry ! reminding her that the walls were super thin and that all the neighbours could hear her if she wasn't careful.

After getting shenhe calmed down (with kisses, so many kisses) and fixing her hand up, you had decided to let shenhe try to sift the flour while you whipped the (successfully) cracked egg white and finished up with zesting the orange.

"y/n..." she dragged out the syllabus of your name.

"yes babe?" you imitated, a cheeky smile adorned your face as you smiled to yourself.

"why is this so difficult ? I've already got flour all over myself. Could I get some help please?"

upon hearing that you whirled your head around, only to see that shenhe had somehow managed to get more flour on herself and her surroundings than she had managed to get into the bowl.

shaking your head you let out a soft sigh before a chuckle followed. getting out of your seat, you grabbed 2 tea towels and wetted them before passing 1 to shenhe to clean herself off. the other for you to wipe up the flour on the kitchen counter and some that had gotten onto the floor.

"It's ok shen, practice makes perfect. besides," you paused to bend down and clean the floor.

"I think it's more important that I managed to spend time with you, you know, with how busy we always are."

With the both of you having busy schedules it was rare to come across a day where the both of you could spend time together without worrying about work.

and now, a chance had finally presented itself, of course you were going to take full advantage of it.

Once you were done wiping up the floor, you stood on your tiptoes and placed a chasted kiss on her lips to her surprise. you decided to try and grab the dirty rag from her hand without her noticing. it worked, to your surprise.

she was about to move in for more when you pulled back, separating yourself from her as you shot her a smile before moving towards the sink to wash the towels.

After coming back to her senses, she quickly looked down at her hand, only to realise that the dish rag was nowhere to be seen.

"hey- y/n !" she turned towards you, seeing as you had snatched the cloth out of her hand, without her even noticing it.

a little snicker escaped your lips as she playfully turned her head away, letting out a hmph as she did.

"thank you though, babe." she spoke sincerely.

"of course, but ahh," you paused, moving towards the cabinets to grab a pair of oven mittens for shenhe. "Could you help take the cake out of the oven please?" a sheepish smile plastered onto your face as you placed the mits in her hands before continuing to wash the dishes.

"thanks babe you're the best, mwuah !" you kissed her cheek dramatically as a way to thank her. before she went toward the direction of the oven to take the finished cake out.

finishing up the dishes you went to grab a baking rake and set up the contraption. instructing shenhe to flip the cake upside down and place it onto the rake.

"right now we just need to wait for it to cool down before we can take it out of the tin to eat." you said animatedly, dusting your hands before you placed your hands on your hip.

~~~ (time skip bc idk how to fill it in lmAO-)

"and… done !" you clapped enthusiastically after laying on a few qingxin petals (courtesy of your neighbour ganyu) to give the cake a few finishing touches.

Considering this was the first time you and shenhe baked, you were genuinely impressed that you managed to pull off such a difficult cake recipe.

"woahh… heyy y/n, this actually smells and looks really good." shenhe bent down to eye level with the cake, a mesmerised look on her face. The gleam of fascination in her silvery grey eyes clearly showed that she hadn't had any prior experience with these kinds of things.

pinching a chunk of the fluffy cake, you motioned out your hand for shenhe to give it a taste. she leaned closer to you as she opened her mouth to have a taste of the cake. taking it between her teeth she tasted the cake for the first time.

"mmm ! y/n this is so good, good archons… can i have more ?" she squealed out, a genuine smile spread across her face while she salivated over the cake.

why and how she so adorable good archons, and people call her deadly-

your thoughts got interrupted when you saw shenhe emerge from the kitchen, knife in hand ready to stab the life out of the chiffon cake.

you let out a snicker as you gently took the knife out of shenhe's wielding hand so as to not cause an accident. yeah you definitely understood why people called her deadly now.

[blackgirlluxury]

🌹Deep Self Care for the Luxurious Woman 🌹

Self care goes beyond getting your nails and toes done every two weeks. Self care is deeper than bubble baths at night & high tea with the girls on Sunday mornings. Are you REALLY taking care of you?

Teeth 👄

There’s a reason I’m speaking on this first, too many people neglect their oral health. You need to floss nightly, visit the dentist for cleanings regularly, change your toothbrush often, invest in teeth whitening, brush your tongue, ensure you’re cleaning your throat by gargling, removing tonsil stones (google it). Before I even brush my teeth I floss & I rinse my mouth with peroxide (been doing this for years & my enamel is still fine)...I put toothpaste on my toothbrush and I’ll sprinkle baking soda on top. After brushing my teeth, inner cheeks, roof and tongue for at least 2 minutes I gargle for a full minute with mouthwash and I’ll rinse with water. Please get braces or veneers or whatever floats your boat if you need to.

Body 🧍🏽‍♀️

I’m not here to body shame by any means but your body weight should be in a healthy range for your height. If you are obese, lose weight PERIOD!

Eat healthier, at least 5 servings of fruits and veggies daily. Exercise at least 3 days a week even if it’s just a 45 minute walk. Meal prep and if you lack discipline you should probably invest in a meal delivery service. I’ve tried Daily Harvest and it was pretty good. If you can afford it, invest in a gym membership and/or personal trainer. Make sure to take your vitamins and drink at least 2 liters of water daily but I personally aim for 3 liters. Don’t be ashamed to get liposuction or any other bodily procedures, but you will still have to eat healthy and workout regularly to maintain results.

Skin 👸🏽

Exfoliate your body as well & don’t neglect your hands and feet. You should be bathing or showering daily to remove dead skin. Ensure you are using a back brush with a long handle to wash your back and don’t forget to scrub your neck and clavicle. Clean your ears and don’t forget to clean behind them as well.

How does your hair look underneath your wig? You better be washing it and deep conditioning it often! Don’t forget to oil your hair and scalp lightly to prevent breakage. After showering, moisturize your body with a nice body oil or cream. I like Laura Mercier’s body cream in the scent Creme Brûlée. Find your signature scent and wear it when you leave the house. My favorite perfumes are Kilian’s Love Don’t be Shy and Montale’s Vanilla Cake (I’m a sucker for gourmands).

Nails & Outward Appearance 💅🏾

However you decide to wear your nails, keep them neat and pretty. My personal preference is medium, oval nails in either Ferrari Red or pink and white ombré. Whether you go to a salon or do your nails at home make sure you’re getting them done regularly (2-3x month). Please get pedicures often and opt for a deluxe pedicure when you can. Tip: put some aquaphor on your heels every night to keep them soft.

Whether your hair is natural, relaxed, pressed or braided please make sure it’s neat! Hair is one of the first things a person will see when they look at you. Keep it clean and smelling fresh. If you wear wigs, wash and restyle them often.

Makeup should be soft and natural. Eye lashes should not look like that of a camel (I love Lashify lashes).

Clothing should be tailored when needed, clean and washed between wears. Please follow garment care directions that are on clothing tags.

Make sure you carry lotion and lip balm with you at all times in case you get crusty.

Mind 🧠

Start going to yoga classes. Journal, meditate, write affirmations, get professional massages regularly. If you’re going through something emotional , please seek help. Make sure you’re being nice to yourself, lifting yourself up & doing things that make you happy. Never ever talk down to or about yourself especially when you’re around others. People will treat you the way you treat yourself. Don’t be afraid to go out alone whether you’re in a relationship or not. I’m married and I still go to dinner and movies alone sometimes because I love having time to myself. Work on your goals, stop bullshitting and start your business. If you don’t want to start a business then you need to make sure you’re climbing that corporate ladder. Make a vision board or book to keep yourself motivated. Learn new languages and skills.

Finally..... ✨

If you are in a relationship with or entertaining a man that isn’t helping you, uplifting you, providing for you, leave him. If you are paying for dates or begging him to call and text you, leave him. If you didn’t get anything on Valentine’s Day, leave him. If you’re paying for your own birthday dinner, leave him. If you aren’t feeling completely fulfilled, loved, respected, adored and cherished in your relationship, leave him. You deserve better and you will find the man of your dreams when you least expect it.