#if you’re reading these tags goodnight drink water and i hope sleep comes easily to you when you lie down

[tiddygame]

Ghoap god type au part 3!

part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3

Their first official meeting face to… well, almost face. Soap’s doing his best.

[Disclaimer: I have been fiddling with this for ages, and just like everything else i’ve written, i’m not quite happy with it but i’m done looking at it. sorry if it’s awful lmao. also it’s around 5 goddamn thousand words]

Another battle won, another victory to add to the general’s reputation, and another fight that left Ghost feeling empty.

Part of him hated that he had become a disciple for the god of death. It was hard not to notice the changes that started after he first left an offering for the god. The way he felt a little less alone, the way enemy arrows would occasionally miss their target, the way the aches of battle faded much sooner, the way the world seemed a bit brighter. The way it gave him hope.

Hope was a dangerous thing. It tricked him into thinking he was meant for more than just dying on the battlefield. Made him believe that he could have a happy ending.

In reality however, Ghost would live and die a prisoner, having forgotten the taste of freedom. The world was not bright. It was cruel. If there were any good in the world, the other side would have won. Would have slaughtered them like pigs.

Instead, they lived to fight another day. Once the wounded were stable, they moved on. Found a spot to camp on a riverbank. As always, Ghost ran off. Let himself indulge in the falsity of hope.

By now, everyone in the camp was used to his routine. The only one brave enough to confront him was the general and so long as he returned to be his rabid dog whenever he needed, he learned not to care.

So, he left. Continued his search for more temples that once housed devout believers of the god of death. He appreciated the distraction from the real world, a short respite found in half-mindless wandering through abandoned cities or overgrown forests.

Ghost still knew very little about the god. While he knew the story of why the god had been forgotten, he still knew next to nothing about who the god was. They didn’t seem too bad at least; Ghost was still alive and has yet to be punished to an eternity of suffering.

He knew if he tried asking the god, (if he received an answer at all) it would all be what he wanted to hear and not the truth. So, he searched.

Most temples were too dilapidated to glean any information, but the little he had gathered seemed to point in a mostly positive direction. But he still needed to know more. He didn’t even know the god’s name for fuck’s sake.

Wandering through the forest, he wasn’t too worried about getting lost. It wasn’t so dense that shadows swallowed it whole and he could always follow the river to find his way back out.

Over the months spent on this routine, he’d learned a lot about how to find the temples, especially in forests like this one. It was rather simple: find a trail of slightly younger trees and follow them.

The much bigger, much older trees would outline a path that had long been lost to time. While hundreds upon hundreds of years have passed since the god was praised, the evidence was still dug into the earth.

Sure enough, after an hour or two of following a line of newer trees, he found a temple. It was the most intact one he’d found yet, all four walls still up, even if they looked ready to cave in at any moment. The only structural integrity was likely from the amount of vines slithering in through the cracks, acting as rope to hold together a building that wanted nothing more than to collapse.

The inside was surprisingly well lit. The holes in the roof that had been filled with various plants let in a soft green light. In the middle, extending from the back wall was a pedestal atop which sat crumbled rocks. As he guessed, taking a closer look proved it to have once been a statue that had either fallen prey to the passage of time or the anger of the locals.

Turning his attention to the walls, on his right was another doorway that would have led to a balcony overlooking the surroundings. Now, however, it was a simple curtain of vines leading to a pile of rubble falling down the hill. On his left was a wall of vines that was so thick, he wasn’t even sure if the wall was still there. But just peeking out towards the bottom looked to be the bottom edge of something that had been carved into the rock.

Curiosity piqued, he walked over and tugged at the ivy. Most didn’t even budge, but he was able to move enough to see that it was likely a mural of some sort. He hoped it was, at least. He was desperate for any information on who or what he’s been helping.

Pulling at the vines only resulted in his hands becoming covered in ants that had been hiding and he had a vague thought about setting fire to it, but there’s no way it would catch and if by some miracle it did, it would likely cause a forest fire. No other option readily available, he sighed and drew his knife, beginning the long and arduous process of hacking through each individual branch.

There was no easy way to do it. They clung to the wall so tightly that to try and slash them would just scrape the edge of his knife on the stone and ruin the edge. The brambles on them made him very grateful for his gloves saving him from turning his fingers into mincemeat. He worked carefully, pulling far enough to get his knife under the stems and cutting through them one by one.

It took hours of meticulous removal and a smarter man would have stopped a long time ago. But Ghost was determined now, he started the process and he couldn’t leave until it was finished.

He didn’t pay too much attention to the actual mural as he worked his way through them, waiting until he could see the full thing. At some point, he had to stop to light a small torch. Darkness having begun to set in, he didn’t notice he had cleared most of it until he took a step back.

As he suspected, it was a mural of the god, depicting some of his godly deeds. The original carving was already rather simplistic and the aging didn't help in deciphering what story it was telling. He was worried that in brushing off the dirt, the carvings would come with it, so instead he brought his torch closer and tried to figure out what he was looking at.

It seemed to be a set of stories, all of which featured the god as kind, helping people who were suffering. The first carving was of an old man on his deathbed, the god putting his hand over his eyes. The next was of parents watching as the god kissed their newborn on the forehead. The third grabbed his attention.

It was a soldier with a knife in his chest, the god holding his hand.

Months ago, Ghost had been in that exact situation. Dying was certain, and yet instead of doing whatever it is the god of death does when someone is dying, the god saved him. Healed a fatal wound with a golden scar. (And put a flower behind his ear, but he often elected not to think about that when remembering the event.)

All of the carvings were different tellings of the same story. For months he had been asking the same question with no answer: Why was Ghost’s story different?

Ghost shook his head. As always when trying to think about the why of it all, he concluded to not think about it. To just push it aside and ignore it. Whatever snake was hiding in the grass waiting to strike was too hidden for Ghost to see. Until the day comes that he gets bit, he will forget about it.

Pulling himself away from the third image, he turned back to the statue. The mural didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know and hoped the collapsed statue would hold some answers.

Sure enough, it was still just as collapsed as before. There were marks in the rocks that proved it wasn’t the passage of time that felled it, but the anger of a mob.

Now looking at the pedestal with the torch, he saw the shadow of inscriptions on a plaque near the bottom. Kneeling down to get a better visual, he saw that it was four words written in an ancient language.

ᓭ𝙹ᔑ!¡, ˧𝙹⟍̅ 𝙹⎓ ⟍̅ᒷᔑℸ ̣⍑.

He remembered little of the translation, recognizing the third word was “of,” and after scraping through his memory, he was pretty sure the second word was “god.” Either that or fish. His memory is not that great.

____, GOD OF _____.

Well, it didn’t take a genius to deduce what the rest of it said. While he was iffy on the translations, he knew the phonetics well. Excited to possibly have the god's name in front of him, Ghost made a mistake.

Which, he would like to clarify, he knows that he’s an idiot. Stupid, dumb, anything and everything between. Obviously, common sense dictates that when you find strange writing anywhere, but especially in an ancient temple, you DO NOT READ IT OUT LOUD.

However, as previously stated, stupid dumb idiot and all that. In his defense, he wasn’t fully aware he was doing it. It had been a while since reading the dead language and the old carving made it hard to decipher the glyphs.

So, not thinking, he sounded them out. Out loud. Reading a random sentence in an abandoned temple of the god of death, who was abandoned after claims of being a monster. It was not Ghost’s proudest moment.

But, he did manage to read it, saying to an empty temple, “Sau— No… Soap, God of… Death?”

He didn’t know if he read it properly. When he had learned the script, it had been taught with handwritten letters. How they looked on a pen and paper was very different to how they looked carved into stone. He decided to risk delicately brushing away some of the dirt, following the indentation of the letters.

He was still trying to read the plaque when he became aware of someone behind him.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he carefully maintained his position, not giving away that he had noticed the person. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he could see their shadow behind him and to the right.

Forcefully maintaining his casualness, he dropped his hand from the plaque and rested it on the ground as if he were just balancing himself. The other went to nonchalantly rest on the buttcap of his sword, holding it like it was happenstance for that to be the more comfortable position. He waited.

They did nothing. They did not move, didn’t take advantage of his weakness, he couldn’t even hear them breathing.

He had a sinking feeling that he already knew what was behind him. And if he was right, his sword would not save him.

Steeling himself, he stood and turned, drawing his sword. At first glance, they were not a soldier, thief, or mercenary. They drew no weapon and barely even reacted to his sudden advance.

It wasn’t human either. It… It “smiled” at him. Every fiber of Ghost’s being was telling him to run, run far away from this thing before it mauled him.

He stood still. No one can outrun Death.

His vision blurred but only when trying to look directly at the god. He was almost… translucent. When he risked a glance to the door, his image began to vibrate, like he didn’t need to hold himself together anymore.

Later, trying to recall any specific features would draw a blank. Eyes, hair, height — anything. He would question if the god had any physical form at all or if he just imagined it.

He needed to get out of there.

It seemed the god was examining him just as closely. Ghost tried to slowly back away, to inch closer to the door, but was stopped by the god circling him. Not having a secure exit made his skin crawl and he was sure to keep the being in his sights the entire time.

In the same way his eyes were warring over whether the god was there or not, he didn’t know how nervous he needed to be. The months spent offering whatever he had in exchange for company and help on the battlefield made him want to relax, to talk to him like he was an old friend.

The lifetime he spent being betrayed and getting used made him want to attack first. The back of his neck prickled at the reminder that he still owed the thing his life. He was not an old friend. He was a deity, the god of death, and would be able to kill him with ease. Ghost kept his sword level with the god despite being all too familiar with its futility.

The god, Soap, stopped his circling and stood in front of him, far too close for comfort. When Ghost backed away, he watched like he was observing a bug he found interesting.

The comparison was far more apt than Ghost wanted to think about.

“Your fellow soldiers call you Ghost, yes?”

It was the first time actually hearing the god speak and it was just as unsettling as he thought it would be. The voice reflected his flickering form, oddly deep and reverberating like it wasn’t meant for this plane.

Subconsciously, his sword slowly drifted down, no longer threatening an attack.

“…Yeah. How do you know that?” He didn’t bother trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

“I’ve been watching.”

Ghost didn’t like this. Not at all. Everything in his bones was screaming at him to get the fuck out of there. He readjusted his grip on the sword but forgot to raise it. He needs to get out. Now.

The god laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re the first follower I have had in an age. What else was I supposed to do?”

Part of what made his voice sound off finally hit Ghost.

“The god of death is Scottish?” The incredulous tone probably wasn’t doing his life expectancy any favors.

“Aye. And you’re British.”

The god turned and began inspecting the rest of the temple. Ghost didn’t feel the true weight of the god’s stare until it was gone, now taking in several deep breaths as the pressure went away.

“Thanks, I didn’t notice.”

“I thought we were pointing out the obvious.”

The god smiled at him like it was a simple joke. But the annoyance was there. Even if the god was laughing now, that doesn’t mean he would still find Ghost’s disrespect funny in a few minutes. He needs to watch himself and be careful.

“Why do you look all… weird and shit?” Good job, Ghost. Real good about being careful and making sure to overthink his wording. Fucking hell, his own idiocy is going to kill him.

The god pouted his lip. Looking at Ghost with deceptively sad eyes, he asked, “Aw, are you calling me ugly?”

The god returned to examining the ruined temple. Even though he wasn’t looking, Ghost shook his head and raised his hand in a pause gesture. Gods have wiped out entire villages over less. He forced his breathing to remain normal, having to manually count it so as to not panic. Before he could backtrack and likely dig himself in a deeper hole, the god spoke.

“I am still weak. This is the first time I’ve managed to hold onto a tangible form.” Tangible was certainly one way to put it. When he ran his fingers over the ledges on the wall, the dirt and debris didn’t move. Brushing his hands through the vines led to them swaying slightly as if there were a breeze.

Ghost reminded him, “I tried giving you food. You didn’t accept it.”

The god laughed, “I know. The starving man giving the god food.” Ghost wasn’t sure if his tone was meant to be insulting or annoyed.

“Yeah?”

Soap sent him a look he couldn’t decipher, explaining, “Gods don’t eat. Not the way you do. Keep your food.” He made pointed eye contact with Ghost and winked as he said, “I prefer flowers and trinkets anyways.” He turned his attention back to the ruined mural. His eyes were wrong.

Ghost fucking hates gods. What the fuck does that mean?

He pointed out, “If you’re weak, don’t you need everything?”

“I am not that weak. Saving you hurt.”

Ghost prickled further at the reminder, taking a step back. Gripping the handle of his sword tighter, he defensively stated, “I don’t need your help.”

The god scoffed and walked towards him. Ghost tried to back up but the god was faster. The divine being put his hand on his ribs, right where the golden scar sat. With a furrowed brow he angrily stated, “This says otherwise.”

Ghost instinctively jerked away from the touch. It was staticky and cold. Wrong. It was somehow worse than human touch. He was tense, looking to see the gods reaction.

This was worse than dealing with an impatient, angry god. Those were predictable. This one has yet to give him any indication of his limits. Ghost didn’t know what would be the tipping point and could only hope that when it hit, the god would be kind enough to kill him quickly.

To his surprise, the god looked sad. His flash of anger gone and now quieter, he continued, “I was barely in time to save you.” If Ghost didn’t know any better, he’d say the god actually gave a damn about him.

But Ghost did know better. He stared at the third image on the mural. He asked the question that had been plaguing him since waking up from a deadly sleep, “You’re the god of death. Why… Why would you have run out of time? Why save me?”

He sighed, “Healing an otherwise healthy person is easy. Resurrection? Not so much. I do not control death the way people seem to think I do,” the god paused and sadly looked to the broken statue, “…or did. I can help people on their path but not change their course.”

The god was slowly walking closer. Ghost didn’t have much more space to back up, almost cornering himself, he had to angle himself more towards the door, following the wall. It allowed the god to get closer, much closer than Ghost would’ve liked, but it also allowed him to have a realistic escape plan.

Not that he’d be able to run from any god for long. The hope of success was a fickle thing.

Unaware or uncaring of his internal plight, the god happily continued explaining, “You were still on the same path, just veering to the left. Bringing someone back is possible, but not always worth it.”

Not yet learning his lesson about letting sleeping dogs lie, he poked back, “What? ‘They come back different?’”

The god gave a slight nod, “Sometimes, if their soul has been rotted or corrupted. But I meant the cost. Saving you was easy to do with all that you had given. To bring someone back from the dead… Well, there are some fates crueler than death.”

Ghost's eyes hardened, “I’m aware.” The god looked all sad again but he continued before he could interrupt, “But why did you save me?”

The god paused for a moment before simply stating, “You’re kind.”

Ghost scoffed and incredulously repeated, “I’m kind.” He nodded. Ghost continued, “So, you betrayed your own kingdom, domain, whatever to make sure I didn’t die because ‘I’m kind.’”

Soap smiled and for the first time since trying to touch his scar, reached out to him. “Exactly. I like you. You are kinder than someone in your shoes should be. That’s why I saved you.”

His hand hovered next to Ghost’s left. He was waiting for something. The god was still smiling softly at him.

He wants me to close the distance.

He’d rather the god have just grabbed him. Why was he waiting? Why was a god waiting on a mortal? Gods do not ask. They take. Why was this one any different?

When he was a kid, he’d run around trying to pet any and every dog that would let him. He would approach them slowly, holding out his hand for them to sniff. Some would approach immediately, but most took some time. They were half feral and scared of people, hesitant to even approach him.

At that moment, Ghost felt like a scared feral dog. He felt doomed, like there was no way out alive. He didn’t know if the deity was offering safety and comfort, or a quicker and less painful end. Soap’s hand was still extended, still smiling softly.

When a god asks, if you do not give, they will take. And will take more than they would have if you had handed it over to begin with. It’s best to give in before the consequences become worse.

He moved his hand into the god’s hold. It grinned. He tried not to shake.

The god rubbed his thumb along his hand, fingers trailing after an older wound that was on its way to scarring. The touch became slightly more bearable as he grew more accustomed to the peculiarities of the sensation.

After a pause, Ghost shakily contested, “I am not kind. I have more blood on my hands than everyone in the military camp combined.”

Soap, unperturbed, continued messing with his hand, watching the way his fingers bent and twitched. Not looking up, “I said kind, not a pacifist.”

Ghost tried to speak up. The god interrupted. The touch graduated into practically feeling each individual muscle in his arm, like he was trying to remember how a human body is supposed to look.

“However, if you want a more tangible reason, I did, and somewhat still do, owe you.”

Ghost didn't buy it for a second. "What? A god owing a mortal?"

Soap made eye contact once more. Ghost didn’t realize how close he had gotten. The god looked more human, but more wispy as well. His eyes didn’t make Ghost want to turn away before he turned to flame, but he could also see more of the temple through him. Perhaps their meeting would not last much longer.

“I’m sure you are aware that gods can die. the only reason I was still alive was because people would pass the ruins of my temples and remember me.”

He shifted to Ghost’s right and reached for his other arm. Doing the same hovering hesitation, Ghost simply nodded in approval. The god turned his focus to his right hand now, letting go of the left. He did the same examination as before, feeling over his knuckles and trailing what veins he could see up his arm.

…When had Ghost sheathed his sword?

His left arm tingled. He had to tell himself that he did not miss the touch.

“But no one believed in me. I was waiting for another thousand years when I’d be forgotten and could finally die. You not only saved me, but you gave me hope as well.” He accentuated the word by squeezing his arm, or trying to at least. He seemed to be fading fast.

With something in his eyes more earnest than Ghost was used to seeing on even a mortal, the god said, “So yes, I still very much owe you.”

The earnestness was gone and in its place, a joking tone as he continued, “Though, if it’s you I am indebted to, I don’t think that’s too bad of a fate.”

Ghost asked, “So… I don’t owe you a debt?”

Soap looked genuinely confused, “Why would you owe me?” With the way he tilted his head, he almost looked like a confused puppy.

Ghost was at a loss, having no idea how to answer that. The idea that gods just wanted to fuck over everyone they could for their own amusement was so ingrained that to try and put it into words felt impossible.

When he didn’t answer, Soap spoke again, “I like you alive.” His hands moved, one going to feel the pulse point on his wrist and the other sitting over the left side of his chest, feeling his heart. Like he was making sure he was still alive.

The confused furrow did not leave Ghost’s brow at the explanation and he was sure Soap could feel the way his breathing and heart rate kicked up at the touch. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to lean into it and beg him to never let go or skin himself to be rid of the feeling.

“Besides,” Soap said, making eye contact once more. He grinned. It didn’t look human. “I’m not letting you go that easy.”

Ghost ripped himself away, finally in the doorway of the ruined temple. The orange light indicated that dawn was well on its way. He could not hear any birds chirping nor any leaves rustling. It was still smiling from the edge of the shadows.

The god spoke, “I hope we can meet like this again. I had fun.” With that, the divine being stepped forward into the light and fully faded at last.

Ghost took in several deep lungfuls of air. He stood frozen, watching as if waiting to make sure the god did not return. In truth, he was frozen. When it came to fight, flight, or freeze, he thought he had trained himself out of the latter two options.

But he stood there, terrified to move. He didn’t even shift his weight. It felt like to move was to acknowledge what had just happened, and to acknowledge it was to cement it as reality.

A childish part of him hoped he would wake up to find it was all a dream. Forcing himself to turn his back to the door, he ignored the way his back burned at being exposed and unprotected.

He absentmindedly made the long trek down the hill and to the river. He detached his scabbard and kneeled, splashing his face with water, the coolness of it shocking his system.

He turned to the left and vomited. He was shaking so much he almost collapsed. Locking his elbow, he was barely able to balance just to wipe his mouth.

He turned back to the water. Took in a deep breath and submerged his face. He stayed there, pushing the limit of how long he could stay under. His heart was racing, demanding air. He could feel it rattling against his lungs.

Just as the dizziness and weakness began to take hold, he ripped himself up. Taking long, heavy deep breaths, he looked up. Watched as the last of the stars faded into an orange and blue sky.

Stories and warnings from priests came crawling back to him. About what the presence of The Old Gods could do to a mortal. If he was shaking, vomiting, and scared stiff from seeing him while he was still weak…

Good gods, how powerful can this stupid motherfucker get?

He hasn’t felt so… so… so much in a long time. His brain was warring with itself over how he should feel about the interaction. Part of him felt hopeful, thinking that perhaps he might now have someone who actually cares about him and not what he can do for them. Part of him felt so hopeless that he didn’t see the point in getting up, in doing anything other than trying to die before he could cement his fate as a god’s new favorite human plaything.

He blinked and forced his mind to stop. The birds had returned, singing once more. He stood shakily, grabbing his sword and using it to help him up. It sank slightly in the mud.

Day officially broke. In the forest, shadows turned and ran to hide behind the trees. Animals were just starting to wake, some heading to the river to drink.

Ghost stepped into the water, following it downstream and letting the rush of water cover his tracks. The rapids threatened to sweep him away with every step, rocks underfoot falling prey to the force.

By mid morning, the river led him back to the camp.

The other soldiers stopped and stared upon noticing him but did not say a word. In fact, they fell completely silent seeing him wading through water that would drown a lesser man, muddy sheath in hand, soaked to the bone.

He stepped onto the shore, walking at the same slow speed he had in the water. The general, having noticed the sudden silence stepped out of his tent, demanding to know what the problem was. Seeing Ghost, he hesitated before demanding his attention.

Ghost was already on the path towards him. Face to face, the general hesitated, mouth moving but no words spilling forth. Ghost informed him that he was going to go to sleep. The general had yet to find his voice.

Ghost walked to his tent. Dropped his sword. Lied on his cot. He stared at the canvas above him, forgetting to remove his armor and gear.

When he got like this, feeling disconnected from not just his body but his soul as well, he tried to take stock of himself. Mentally document every ache and pain, how his clothes felt, even what the weather was like.

Instead he became aware of one sensation in particular, one clinging to both of his arms, his chest, and a small part of his lower ribs.

Everywhere the god had touched him felt electric.

How long has it been since someone touched me without hurting me?

He wondered why his skin still tingled. Why he missed the feeling.

#soap is kicking his feet twirling his hair and ghost is scared for his life #soaps doing his best alright #old gods this old gods that. simon pretty much went into sensory overload because someone was nice to him #and two things: #yes the mural was inspired by the painting of the grim reaper in white #and this will be the last update to this but just for a bit cause i want to try to do something for mermay #emphasis on try #words have not been wording #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #queue #forgotten death au #me try not to over tag and over explain everything challenge (impossible) #once more posting this right before i sleep #if you’re reading these tags goodnight drink water and i hope sleep comes easily to you when you lie down

[petalsheart]

Awkward Confrontations | Bakugou Katsuki soulmate au

Warnings: Maybe a few swear words? Otherwise nothing!

Word Count: 1,751

A/N: This is my first fanfic! So feel free to leave anything constructive either in my ask box or even replies! Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it. Also, sorry if Bakugou is a little ooc, I tried my best. Oh, and I wasn’t sure how to end this, I hope it doesn’t feel too rushed. Anyways, enjoy reading!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were five years old when it appeared. It was a Wednesday afternoon and you were playing in the backyard when you got a sharp pain on your right wrist. Crying, you run to your mom and ask her what’s happening. Your mom looks up from what she was doing on the porch immediately comforting you with a hug.

“M-mommy why does my arm hurt,” you say through tears.

Your mom thinks for a minute, trying to figure out how to explain a soulmate easily enough for a five-year-old to understand. 

“Well baby, the world made somebody very special to you,” she picked you up and put you in her lap, “And one day you will find them when they say the very special words on your wrist.” 

Looking at your wrist, you notice the new words on there. The pain had gone away and you were finally able to calm down. Not being able to read very well, you ask your mom.

“Mommy, what does it say?” you ask, looking up to your mom.

Your mom looked down at your wrist. She read aloud,

“Who do you think you’re talking to, extra.” Your mom held back a giggle.

“Mommy, why is my soulmate so mean!” you whine still looking at her. 

Your mom laughs a little. “I’m not sure baby, why don’t you ask them when you meet them.” You were satisfied with your answer and got off your mom’s lap to go play.

Walking through the gates of U.A high school was refreshing and overwhelming at the same time. Refreshing because you had worked so hard to get here, overwhelming because you knew you were gonna meet so many great upcoming heroes, and you were a new student halfway through the semester. Walking into class 1-A, you seat yourself in the far back next to a boy with green hair. A girl with short brown hair makes her way over to you. 

“Hello! My name is Uraraka Ochako! What’s your name?” you look at her with a little shock before you answer. “My name is (y/l/n) (y/n)! It’s nice to meet you! What is your quirk?” you ask, genuinely curious. She tells you her quirk is zero gravity and that she can make things float. She asks you the same question. You tell her what your quirk is and the green-haired boy next to you looks at you with interest and starts asking you a lot of questions. 

“Wow, your quirk is so cool! How does it work? What are it's setbacks? Does it have setbacks?” he fires at you. Ochako turns to him, “Deku, don’t ask her so many questions at once.” With a blush on his face, he introduces himself.

“H-hi, sorry! My name is Midoriya Izuku, but you can call me Deku!” 

“It’s nice to meet you Deku!” you respond with just as much enthusiasm as you did Ochako.

As you three talk, eventually more people start to join in. Happy with being accepted so fast, you think about how great of friends you all are gonna be. However, you noticed one person not interacting with the lot of you. But before you can ask, your homeroom teacher walks in. He introduces himself as Eraserhead, but to call him Mr.Aizawa. As he calls roll, you learn the anti-social boy’s name is Bakugo Katsuki.

The school day goes by fast, and before you even know it you’re on your way to your dorm. The school required that students live on campus, and you moved your stuff in a few days before. Weird enough you didn’t run into any of your classmates in that time, but you didn’t care that much. Your mind was focused on the explosive boy in your class, Bakugou. His quirk was proven to be very strong during class today. He also had an even stronger temper. He seemed to explode on poor Midoriya all of the time. 

You didn’t know why a boy so mean wouldn’t leave your mind. He was captivating to you and you weren’t sure why. You were laying on your bed lost in thought when you heard a knock on your door. You get up to answer the door. It was Momo.

“Hey, (y/l/n) dinner is ready! Thought I would come to tell you!” 

She’s so sweet you thought as you responded.

“Okay! Thank you for telling me, Yaomomo!” You smile at her as she leaves. With that, you put your slippers on and head to the dining room. You get down there and are greeted by your friends. Before you get some food, you head to the bathroom to wash up. You’re in a daze, thinking of Bakugou of course, when you run into somebody. Looking up, you notice it's Bakugou, but he just keeps walking with a tch leaving his mouth. 

“Dude! You could’ve said sorry!” He stops walking and turns to you. With a pronounced look of anger on your face, you are ready to take any mean thing he says to you.

“Who do you think you’re talking to, extra!” He all but shouts at you. Before you are able to even respond, his words register to you. 

No way he is not my soulmate, you thought as you stared. That would explain the reason I couldn’t get him out of my head, you rationalize before you hear a “tch”. 

“Are you gonna answer, dumbass, or can you not speak?” He has his eyebrows scrunched and you could easily tell he was annoyed. You were confused, why didn’t he seem excited or even freaked out. Was he not your soulmate? 

Lost in thought, you didn’t respond. Bakugou, deciding he was too tired to deal with you, walked away to eat. Truth is, you had impressed him during class earlier. He recognized how strong your quirk was. He knew the words you spoke were on his wrist. He didn’t care about all that soulmate shit, so why was his heart racing. At least she wasn’t a weakling, he thought. A part of him, a very small part, felt bad just leaving you standing there. But he was tired and you weren’t responding so what was the point.

Later that night, you were having trouble falling asleep. Why didn’t he say anything? Was there something wrong with you? Maybe he really isn’t my soulmate, you thought sadly. Deciding all this thinking was making you thirsty, you head down to the kitchen for a drink.

Katsuki never had trouble with overthinking. He knew he was strong and he knew he was capable. He was focused on becoming the Number One Hero, he didn’t wanna think about soulmates, he didn’t care! So why couldn’t he get you out of his mind? Deciding he wasn’t gonna be going to sleep right now, he goes to the kitchen for water. 

You’re looking through the fridge for a water bottle. It seems like there was only one left. You take it out of the fridge. As you turn to walk back to your room, you run into a squishy wall. Opening your eyes, you realize it was a person. And just your luck, it was the person you couldn’t get out of your head. 

Bakugou silently curses to himself. Of course, you were awake. As he looks down at you, you look back up at him. You both just stare at each other for a few seconds, before you slowly feel your face get hot. Backing away you apologize.

“I’m sorry Bakugou! I didn’t see you there, haha!” you awkwardly tuck your hair behind your ear. “Tch, maybe you should start to watch where you’re going.” You look up to see him looking away with a slight blush on his cheeks. You smile a little.

“Aww, is Bakugou worried I’ll hurt myself?” He looks at you startled. You were a bit shocked yourself. How were you able to tease him when you just met.

“Shut up, I wasn’t worried, I just don’t want your dumbass to run into me again.” He rolls his eyes. As things grow silent, you decide you wanted to confront him about the whole soulmate thing. 

“Um, Bakugou, can I ask you something.” He just nods his head. He was really calm compared to earlier, maybe it was because he was tired. 

“How do you feel about, um, well, soulmates?” You're a little nervous to be rejected. You know you didn’t know him well but you hoped that you would be able to, eventually. He’s silent for a second. You start to get even more nervous.

“Uhh, you know what? Just forget I said anything, haha!” You nervously let out, and start to walk past him back to your room. Tears threatening to spill as you feel like you just embarrassed yourself in front of your potential crush. You’re walking away when you are stopped abruptly. You look down to see a hand around your right wrist. Bakugou had stopped you.

“I don’t care about them,” he tells you. As you’re about to walk away feeling even worse, he continues. “But, you aren’t terrible.” you feel yourself start to smile.

“What does that mean?” you say, turning around. Bakugou looks embarrassed. He turns his head as he answers. “I could’ve had a worse soulmate, it could’ve been shitty Deku,” he responds. Is this his way of asking you out? You smile even wider. 

“Are you asking me out, Bakugou?” you tease lightly. He turns even redder.

“Don’t make me regret it, shitty woman,” he says with little to no edge in his voice. He lets go of your wrist. You turn around and give him a tight hug. 

“What the hell are you doing!?” He whisper screams. 

“I’m sorry, Bakugou! I just couldn’t help it.” You look up at him and he’s looking away, still red.

“So, this means you’re my boyfriend?” You ask with a bright smile. He looks at you, at the sight of your smile, he grows redder (how that’s possible, you don’t know). 

“Tch, whatever,” he says, and that answers your question. Your cheeks hurt from smiling. 

“Well, boyfriend,” you say to tease him some more, “It is getting pretty late, and we should head to bed.” he nods in agreement. “Goodnight, Bakugou,” you smile at him and turn to walk away. As he’s watching you walk away, he has a small smile on his face.

tags: @softkatsuki 

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo katsuki #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou fanfic #soulmate au #soulmate #ochako x reader #midoriya x reader #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero academia #my hero imagines #my hero fanfic #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader

[msjr0119]

Cordonian Wags

Part 2b- I’m so sorry

In a world full of Professional footballers and their demanding wives- can their football team nicknamed the ‘Cordonian Apples’ succeed? An American female physiotherapist joins the club. Will this cause issues with the footballers wives?

*This series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

SECOND PART TO THE PREVIOUS PART- TUMBLR WOULDNT ALLOW ME TO POST IT AS ONE 😫😫😫 Read this Part first 😊

Tags: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater

******

“Get your things! You’re coming back to mine. You are staying with us. It’ll be fun - sleepovers, eating more chocolate than you have done tonight, I have wine lots of wine. You are not leaving. You don’t have to tell us who you kissed... that is your business. Between you two.”

“I have no say in the matter do I? You’re going to force me to go to yours aren’t you? Yes I need to forget about it. Please don’t mention it. He wants to talk but I can’t do that - it was a drunk mistake...”

Maxwell and hana just nodded politely, Maxwell went to pack Riley a bag whilst Hana tidied up for her. She was grateful to have such nice people around her for once in her life.

*****

Hey bro, Riley’s had a bit of a meltdown. But we are coming back now.

“Better tidy up a bit, they are coming back with Riley. Max has just text me, in his words she’s had ‘a meltdown’. Gentlemen be nice. It must be hard on her coming here.”

The trio arrived at Maxwell’s house, he had asked Hana to get them all a drink whilst he showed Riley the spare room in which she would be staying in. Riley felt like she was imposing and most likely playing gooseberry there was only the three of them staying there.

Riley quickly unpacked, and walked down the golden spiral staircase admiring Maxwell’s house. It was glamorous. Ambling into the room, she saw all the guests go quiet as she entered, then she saw him. No this is not happening- why is he here?

“So now we have the special guest here... why not play a drinking game? Never have I ever.” Maxwell said jumping up and down like an excited puppy. “I’ll start, so get comfy. Never have I ever fantasied over someone I shouldn’t have.”

Riley, Leo, Liam and Drake all took a shot. Riley daren’t look in the direction of who she kissed when she raised her glass to her lips- she didn’t fantasise over him but she couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss- his soft touch. Gulping the spirit down her she hoped that someone else would ask a question sooner rather than later. Leo began to blow kisses to her, she shuddered.

Savannah decided to ask the next question. “Never have I ever made out with a stranger.” Fuck Riley thought as she closed her eyes. As her eyes fluttered open she saw both the Rhys and Drake also have another shot.

“Never have I ever had a bedroom injury.”

“That’s hard to believe! Liam you have a turn.” Drake said nearly choking on his whiskey- shocked with Leo’s words.

“Never have I ever been cheated on.”

Riley took the shot along with only Drake. Feeling lightheaded she needed some coffee, or maybe just to get that intoxicated to block the pain away.

“Guys, I think the game is officially over. Leo has passed out. And myself and Drake are the only ones who have had a shot for every question. I’m out before I end up joining Leo on the floor!”

“Liam how’s your brother getting home? I’m not carrying him to a taxi... and I’m not explaining to the devil why he’s so drunk....”

“Why don’t you all just stay? I’ll take the blame if Madeleine, Olivia and Kiara question it....” Maxwell said with a cheesy grin- pleading with them all to stay.

“Bartie is in his room, Sav and Bertrand can stay there too. Hana can stay with me. Riley has her own room. Leo can stay on the floor- make sure he doesn’t piss himself again though and you two can share the sofa. There it’s sorted.”

Everyone agreed to stay, and said goodnight to each other. With the amount of alcohol they had consumed it was most likely going to be the second day in a row with a hangover. Maxwell had made them each a hangover bag- which contained a box of paracetamol, a bottle of water and some chewing gum. He really was the considerate one- even if he was to blame for their delicate heads they were going to have in the morning.

******

Riley collapsed on her bed after changing into her alluring lingerie- she really shouldn’t have trusted a man to pack her bag. He had no clue. She was hoping as soon as her head hit the pillow she would drift off to sleep- but no, her mind was working overtime. Thoughts due to her current situation in Cordonia and her past situation regarding her estranged husband. Maxwell kept texting her to check up on her- if she was able to fall asleep easily she would throttle him for constantly asking her. After the internal battle of trying to go sleep- her eyes were starting to feel heavy until there was a quiet knock on the door. Sighing, she stood up and answered the door.

“Max I’m fine. Well I’m not fine. You didn’t pack me any decent nightwear......”

“Wow!”

“Shit!” Grabbing her robe, she attempted to cover her body up- assuming it was Maxwell, she didn’t really care about him seeing her dressed like this. “What do you want?”

“Ive been telling you since last night that I wanted to talk. About you know what.”

“And like I have been saying since last night- it was nothing.” Riley feeling frustrated really didn’t want to talk whilst she was still drunk. “Can I come in? If anyone wakes up and sees us?”

“No. And if anyone sees you, I’m sure you could come up with another lame excuse.” There is no us - attempting to shut the door she failed as he forced the door to stay open with his foot.

“What did you want me to say? ‘Hey Bertrand, can you give me Riley’s number because I’ve just had the most amazing kiss with her.’ “

“No, but maybe you should have just not asked for it in the first place!”

He placed his finger over her lips to keep her quiet- she was getting more and more frustrated so was becoming more loud. Forcing himself into the room, he quietly stepped in and closed the door quietly.

“I’m not a home wrecker. I don’t want to be the reason for a relationship breakdown. You should have just left it be.”

Riley was nervously playing with her wedding ring- thinking back to how she felt when her husband constantly broke her heart. She didn’t ever want to be the other woman.

“You would never be just the other woman or the reason for my relationship breakdown. I like you. And I can’t show it in front of everyone. You are beautiful and I can’t lie and say that kiss didn’t mean anything.”

Moving closer to her, she bit her bottom lip- he put his hands on around her waist keeping a slight distance. Both their heartbeats were racing ten to the dozen. She wanted to push him away- she knew it was wrong, but there was a magnet pulling them closer together. Knowing the minute he touched her again her resistance would crumble. He brushed her hair away from her shoulder, moving his head closer to hers - his body now leaned against hers. Feeling his warmth- he crashed his lips onto hers, not a soft kiss like the prior night. Instead it was passionate and demanding. Picking her up he carried her over towards the bed- hovering over her, he knew what he wanted. He wanted her. Removing her robe, he began to kiss her body.

“We are both consenting adults- I want you Riley. That kiss last night made me want you more.” His eyes full of desire, deep down she was attracted to him and wanted this too. But she didn’t want to be that woman.

“I feel guilty. I can’t help it. I promised myself to never get involved with a footballer again.”

“Don’t feel guilty. I’m not like most footballers.”

Scrutinising his eyes for reassurance, caressing her cheeks and lowering closer to her- she felt his trousers tighten. He began teasing her by thrusting against her. This time she made the first move kissing him.

I’m so sorry... I’m now the other woman. The home wrecker. He’s Xavier. What are we doing?

#theroyalromance #choices trr #riley brooks #drakewalker #maxwell beaumont #liam rhys #leo rhys #hanalee #bertrand beaumont #savannah walker #au the royal romance

[babemazzello]

‘39 - A John Deacon FanFiction

Chapter 5 - The Record Player

Story Description: Amy is sitting in his apartment when she hears some frantic knocking outside her door. She opens it to see a frightened and frazzled John Deacon. A 23-year-old John Deacon. Who believes it’s still 1974, and not 2019. Amy takes it upon herself to help John and get him back to where he belongs.  Part 1 is here.

Chapter Description: Amy finally decides to weed through her records so John has something else to do all day. 

Notes: If you would like to be tagged for this story, either leave a comment or shoot me a message and I will tag you for all future chapters. Thank you all so much for reading, by the way. It means a lot to me.

Warnings: None

Words: 3.0k

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That night, I couldn't sleep very well. I don't know why. I guess it was just one of those nights. I tossed and turned all night. At about 3 am, I decided to get up and get a drink of water. I tiptoed to my door and slowly turned the handle. Hoping that the door wouldn't creak open and wake John up. It felt strange to be creeping around an apartment that normally only had me in it. It didn't feel natural, especially in my sleepy mind.

But, as I slowly opened the door, I saw the living room flooded with a familiar yellow light from the street lamp outside. It was dim, but cast a warm glow into the room. A glow that I remember sitting in some nights to calm myself down enough to fall asleep. Sometimes my busy and overactive mind wouldn't stop until I sat in the living room, basking in the yellow light for as long as it took to calm down and become tired. But, I couldn't do that now.

Instead, my eyes wandered over to the couch where Deacy was silently sleeping comfortably. I stopped in my tracks and watched him. I didn't mean to be creepy or anything like that, but it was a sight to see. John was completely relaxed. His head and cheek resting on the armrest of the couch. Softly laid on a pillow. The blanket I had given to him was bunched up and covering most of his body. My pajama pants he was wearing were sticking out at the bottom as well as one of his feet. His arms were resting lazily on his chest and stomach. His hair was wild like he had been tossing and turning a little before completely falling asleep.

I couldn't help but smile down at him. How he was comfortable and relaxed because of me. Because I was willing to help him in his time of need. He still didn't fully understand the world he was in, but he was getting better. He was getting more comfortable.

And in my sleepy mind, a couple of thoughts ran through it. Thoughts that I couldn't filter as easily due to my tiredness. I thought about getting under the blanket with him. Laying my head on his chest and feeling his warmth radiate throughout my whole body. To have him wrap his arms around me lazily as I fell asleep in them. A small smile creeping onto both of our faces as we laid there drifting off to sleep comfortably; in love with each other.

When I came back to reality, I noticed a goofy smile had become plastered on my face. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. If I began thinking that way, then it would never stop. The thoughts would keep coming and coming and at some point, I wouldn't be able to stop them or resist the urges anymore. So, I continued my walk to the kitchen. But, my sleepy mind kept racing.

More thoughts of us in bed together. Cuddling in the dim light of the streetlamp or in the almost darkness of my room. Me kissing his jaw and neck. Just showing him how much I liked him. And then, he would want to show me as well. He would bend his face down and our faces would get so close to each other that I could feel his hot breath on my face. I would close my eyes and lean in a little closer. Maybe our noses would brush against each other slightly. And as we closed the gap, feeling each other's breath and noses brush up against each other's skin, our lips would finally touch and we would ki-

"Fuck," I let out a little too loud. I had stubbed my toe on the edge of the door frame to the kitchen. I was too caught up in my little daydream that I had completely forgotten to look where I was going. I braced myself on the wall and tried taking in quiet, deep breaths. Silently praying that my little outburst hadn't woken John up. I heard shifting behind me. Fuck. I said internally this time. The last thing I wanted to do was disturb him.

"Everything okay?" He asked in a groggy voice. His words were slow and his accent was thicker thanks to him just being woken. I scrunched my eyes shut and let out a sigh. Half from the pain still lingering in my toe and half from my stupidness of getting lost in my thoughts and waking John up.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Sorry. I just stubbed my toe," I whispered.

"Mmm," he hummed in response. "Do you need any help?" Before my brain could register his act of genuine kindness toward me, I responded.

"No, I'm okay. Just go back to sleep. I'm sorry for waking you." I was cursing myself over and over in my mind. Hating that I disturbed him like that. He was like a sleeping angel and I had pulled him away from that. Once I got into the kitchen, I sat down on a chair. Wringing my face in my hands and rubbing back and forth. Even running my hands through my hair a couple of times. Completely embarrassed by my clumsiness.

Once the pain in my toe had completely gone away, I stood up and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. Filling it up with water, I started to wake up enough to make mental blocks for those John thoughts. The thoughts that had already gotten me in trouble. When I finished my water, I started to tiptoe back to my room. Trying to be extra quiet as I passed Deacy.

"Does it feel better?" I heard him say. I turned to him, surprised that he hadn't gone back to sleep. I rested my hands on the top of the couch so I could look down at him.

"Yes," I replied in a whisper. "Sorry." That's all I could say to him. I felt even worse because of what was going through my head when I stubbed my toe. I felt like I needed to apologize to him for that as well, even though he had no idea what I was thinking.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked. His voice wasn't as groggy now, and it filled my ears so beautifully. It almost made me sigh.

"No," I whispered. "It happens sometimes."

"I couldn't sleep until about an hour ago," he said. I didn't really know how to respond, so the silence hung in their air. I took another look at him. His eyes were closed as he spoke like he was still trying to fall back asleep. "Next, time watch where you're going," he joked. A smug smile spreading across his face. I smiled too. Genuinely, at how adorable he was being. But, he couldn't see it. I scoffed.

"Goodnight Deacy," I replied as I began walking back to my room.

"Goodnight," he replied. I softly closed the door behind me. And once I was completely out of his sight, I let out a big sigh. Somewhat happy that I stubbed my toe. I fell back into bed as a wave of tiredness rushed over my body and I fell asleep.

--------

The next morning, after breakfast and getting ready, I decided to give Deacy access to my record player. He was reading the second book I had given to him. This time it was an actual novel instead of just another poetry book. I hoped he would take longer finishing this one.

I sat down in front of the shelves of records. Scanning my eyes over them and trying to figure out a plan of attack. I turned around to see Deacy quietly reading his book, not interested in what I was doing at all.

"Deacy?" I asked, swiveling around a little on my butt to face him.

"Yes?" he answered, laying his book in his lap and giving me his full attention.

"Would you mind going in the kitchen for a while?" I asked. It was a strange request, but I couldn't have him getting curious about the records as I pulled them off the shelves.

"Am I being bothersome?" he joked. "Because I don't think I could be any quieter." We both smiled at his joke. He was getting more comfortable around me and I loved it. To see this side of him that I hadn't ever seen before was wonderful, but also attracted him to me even more.

"No, no," I answered with a laugh. "You're being wonderful." I saw a smile creep across his face at my words and it made my heart blush. But, I kept going. "But, I was going to start sorting out my records for you to listen to and I don't want you seeing the ones that haven't come out yet in your time." I rested my hands on my crossed legs, waiting for his response.

"Well, that's no fun," he replied. "But, alright. I'll go. Just tell me when you're finished." He stood up and took his book into the kitchen. I heard him pull a chair out from the table and sit down. Once I was sure he wasn't going to come back into the living room, I faced back toward the shelves.

I hadn't realized how many records I had collected over the years. At least three shelves packed full of vinyls either from my parents or multiple record store runs of my own. Both used and brand new. I started pulling records off the shelves and separating them into two piles. Before and after 1974. I used as much of my music knowledge as possible. But, ended up needing to make a third pile. 'Ones to look up'. There was no possible way I could remember the year of every record in my collection. And some of them didn't have the year printed on them for design purposes.

About an hour later, I was almost finished pulling every record out and putting it into a pile. I began mumbling to myself. Saying the name of the artist and running through my mental Rolodex of when that album would have come out. I was getting exhausted from staring at all these records for so long. But, I took the final record off the shelf and put it on top of the 'After' pile.

Pink Floyd's The Wall. One of my all-time favorite records. I stood up and picked up the heavy piles, one by one. Slowly trudging them into my room so Deacy wouldn't be tempted to listen to them. Once I put the last pile down, I ran my thumb across the Pink Floyd record. Now that I had seen it, I really wanted to play it. I already had some of the songs playing in my head, but I couldn't because of John.

I walked back out and saw John walking out of the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand. He stopped dead when he saw me and I closed my bedroom door behind me.

"I didn't say it was okay to come out yet," I said in a light tone. He turned so he wasn't looking toward the records and his eyes stayed glued to the floor.

"Thought you might want this," he said as he held the glass of water further out. I smiled and walked toward him. I grabbed the glass out of his hand.

"Thanks," I replied. "I was getting a little thirsty." He smiled as I took a sip.

"I'll go back now," he said through his smile. I took a couple more sips while walking back over to the shelves. Now, half of the records were in my room. I put the glass down on the coffee table behind me as I started putting the 'Before' records back on the shelves. One by one, the records went back. Frank Sinatra, Elton John (the early stuff), Some Billy Joel, The Beatles, The Four Seasons, The Beach Boys. All albums that I absolutely loved and were glad to share with John. But, there were so many albums that ran through my head that I would love to see him experience for the first time.

But, I kept going. Looking up the rest of the albums and making sure they were in the right spot. Once I was completely done, I stood up and looked at my handy work. My shelves were barer than they had been in years. It felt strange to me. But, not the strangest thing that I had felt in a short while.

"John," I yelled. I heard him get up from his chair and stand in the kitchen doorway. I turned to look at him and gave him a smile. "All done. Have at it." I said, gesturing toward the shelves. He smiled wide and pretty much ran over to the shelves. Sitting down in front of them and carding through them one by one. He was making happy noises at which albums I had.

"You have Elton John? I love his stuff," he said. He seemed to be in his own world looking through these records. Once he was done looking at the albums, he moved over to the 45s. Looking through each one and reading both the A and B side. He stopped at one in particular. "You know, I've, at least, heard of all these artists except this one." I raised an eyebrow at him as he extended his arm to let me see the 45.

"Let me see," I said, reaching down to grab it from him. I looked at the record. 'Piano Man' was written across the top. My eyes widened as I realized he had never heard this song before. I got to experience something new with him and I quickly became giddy with happiness. "You've never heard of Billy Joel?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Nope. What's his stuff like?" he asked, completely innocent and inquisitive.

"Well," I began to explain as I looked over to the record player. I held up a finger to him and walked over to it. I started to turn it on as I kept explaining. "He's rock, but he does a lot of piano in his songs. It's a great sound. He's one of my favorites." I placed the 45 down on the turntable. "But, if I'm remembering correctly, this came out of November in '73 and he's American. So, it doesn't surprise me that you haven't heard of him. His stuff hasn't been out that long for you." I grabbed the needle and placed it on the edge of the record. I sat down on the ground with my back against the side of the couch. I was close to John, but not extremely so. If I stretched my legs out completely, I could touch him. But, I just wanted to see his face as the song played out.

The familiar piano riff began and I saw John's face light up a little. Then, the harmonica came in and I saw a smile come across his face involuntarily. His music always brought a smile to my face and I was glad that it was doing the same for him. I smiled too, taking in the beauty of the sight in front of me.

And when Billy's voice echoed through my apartment, I felt like I was in John's time. Not the other way around. I wanted to live in the year when Billy Joel and Queen were up and coming artists. When no one knew who they were and I could hear their music as it came out. And still feel excited for new music. In my time, both artists had stopped putting out music even before I was born.

But, to get to see someone experience this classic song for the first time in their life was something I would probably never get to see again. The song filled our ears and made us both so happy. The glow coming off of John was so bright and warm. Not only from the music but from the basking light of the sun streaming in from the window behind him. It silhouetted him in my eyes. He was swaying back and forth to the music like a little kid. I couldn't help but softly chuckle at his movements. He couldn't help moving now just like he couldn't hold it in when he was on stage.

As the song faded out, I watched the needle automatically move back to the off position. The room filled with silence as I waited for John to say something about the song. I waited for what felt like minutes but was really only a couple of seconds.

"Wow," he said in a low whisper. "That was really good." I smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. You can see why he's one of my favorites. And that's only one of his songs." I replied.

"Can we listen to more of his stuff?" he asked. I shook my head.

"No, sorry. The only other stuff I have is from after 1974." I knew that I could easily look up some of his other songs on my phone to let him listen to that stuff. But, that felt like too much work and explaining for such a small thing. "I have all these other albums you can listen to though. Maybe you'll find a new favorite," I responded, gesturing over to the albums on the shelves. He looked over at the albums and gave me another smile.

"I know I will. Thank you," he said in a soft tone.

"Always willing to make you happier and more comfortable, Deacy," I replied. "Feel free to play these whenever you want." I pushed myself up off the floor with a small grunt and took one step toward my bedroom.

"Amy?" he asked. I turned around. His voice saying my name always rang beautifully in my ears.

"Yes?" I answered sweetly.

"Can you play that one again?"

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Tag List: @itsametaphorbriansblog @imgonnabeyourslave @deakyspuff @ahsokanarwhal @bestbuds55 @kurt-nightcrawler @ixchel-9275 @ccidk @1001-yellow-daffodils @jedi-dreea

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Masterlist

#'39 - a John Deacon FanFiction #john deacon #john deacon fanfiction #john deacon fan fiction #john deacon x reader #queen #queen fanfiction #queen fan fiction #time travel #queen x reader #masterlist #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #deacy #deaky