Tumgik
#john deacon x reader
johnlennonswifey · 8 months
Text
Since I haven’t been posting, I’ve decided I’ll make a little list of some of my favorite fics!!
🎸= All time fav
——
THE BEATLES-
John Lennon
70s!John x Reader 🎸
Mustache John x Reader
Paul McCartney
Paul x Reader (love letter) 🎸
Paul x Reader (Part 2 of 2)
George Harrison
Jealous!George x Reader 🎸(literally my fav fic ever)
Comfort!George x Reader
George x Reader (somewhat Friends to lovers?)
Ringo Starr
Teddy Boy!Ringo x Reader
Ringo x Assistant!Reader
Ringo x Reader (fluffy)
Ringo x Reader (Married, dinner with parents)🎸
QUEEN-
Roger Taylor
Roger x Reader (childhood friends to lovers)🎸
Roger x Reader (fluff)
Roger x Reader (fluff and more,(Roger gets hurt)) 🎸
John Deacon
John x Reader (John is readers handyman, I love this fic with all my heart pls read it)🎸
John x Reader (Series, 6/10 parts are out, I definitely recommend reading)🎸
Brian May
Brian x Reader (fluff)
Brian x Reader (Queen becomes a Hit)🎸
Brian x Reader (fluff)
Blurbs-
Beatles Blurb
290 notes · View notes
magickcandie · 2 months
Text
John Deacon x Fem!Reader
In the rising fame of Queen, many journalists were often there to talk. More often than naught, the band found themselves repeating things before sending the reporter away. That was until Y/N L/N.
When she was there, she found a way to make herself like able. Speaking about the art of performing with Freddie. Roger’s song writing. Brian’s understanding of writing music. And most of all, she got John to talk and smile and laugh. None of the others could.
She was the one they sent whenever they needed information of Queen. And that became the only time John was excited for an interview.
“You guys have another interview.” Miami said, walking into the studio. “It’s with Y/N.”
“Oh, that’s great!” John said, his tone of voice revealing how he really felt about said reporter.
Roger turned to look at the bassist. “That’s the most excited I’ve ever seen you for an interview.”
“Yeah, John, what is it?” Brian asked, just as curious.
“Nothing, just… interested in the… interview topics?”
“I think our lovely John is definitely interested in something, but not the interview.” Freddie said, coming to sit next to Roger and Brian.
Roger leaned forward to tease. “My my, Deaky, do you fancy Y/N?”
Tumblr media
John raised his brows with a mischievous grin but shook his head anyway.
“You should totally take her out. It could be so romantic,” Brian said.
“No, I could never talk to Y/N.”
“You’re distaste towards human interaction is becoming… well, quite distasteful,” Freddie said with a pout. “What if we were to do something?”
Roger jumped to his feet in excitement. “Yeah, we could talk to Y/N for you!”
“No, we won’t be doing any of that, thank you. I’m willing to let things happen on their own.”
“John, dear, if we let you deal with it like that, nothing will happen.”
Freddie didn’t give John the luxury of arguing back. Said a simple “tut tut” and walked off, taking Brian and Roger with him. Which was fine because that’s when you walked in.
“Hello, John.” You smiled at him. “Where’s the rest of them?”
“Elsewhere. How have you been, Y/N?”
“Fine, fine. And you?”
“Quite alright. So what’s the plan for today?”
“Hm? Oh, I’m to ride with you to the venue while you all do sound checks and the like. In between those is when I’ll start individual interviews.”
In many ways you were found of John as well. You felt his answers were truthful in a way that the others didn’t quite have. But that was on the professional level. He made you happy, and laugh. He was very open, which you found out was actually a rare thing.
On many occasions, you tricked yourself into thinking he was just being courteous.
Much to John’s dismay, you got Freddie first.
“Hello, Fred. You can have a seat, I just need to get a new pen. Seems that I have lost mine.”
“Oh you won’t need that. Come, let’s talk.” He hooked arms with you. “Shall I interview you?”
“Me? Whatever for?”
“What, can’t I speak with my darling friend Y/N?”
You shrugged but went along with it. “What’s bothering you?”
Freddie waved his hands in dismissal. “You shan’t be my therapist either. This is about you, my dear. What do you look for in a lifelong partner?”
“Oh, that’s a bit forward." Freddie shrugged as if it wasn't "Well I don't know. Someone who's honest, I guess."
"John is very honest. Ever think about things short term?"
"No. I see no desire in that."
Freddie crossed his legs, then uncrossed them and stood. "Well that's all I have for you, darling. I'll send Roger in."
You didn't acknowledge him as he left the room, then Roger was walking in. He took Freddie's spot on the couch.
"How have you been, Y/N."
"Fine, fine. Now, I we see that you wrote a song on the album. What influences -"
"Oh, hush up about the album. Let's talk."
Okay....
"Roger, what are you and Freddie doing?"
"Oh, he got started? Good. Are you doing anything this coming week?"
"No, not that I know of."
"Neither is John." Roger left it at that and leaves the room, leaving you completely shocked.
Brian walked in with a smile. He would be easy to ask. He'd reveal himself if you asked.
"Brian May, what are you guys doing?"
"What do you mean?" He started to play with his hands. He was already nervous.
"You, Roger, and Freddie. What are you doing?" You crossed your arms, hoping that you could weasel the answer out of Brian.
"Y/N, we're not -"
"Were you coming in here to talk about John? Now tell me, what are you doing?"
Brian sighed and deflected in defeat. "John likes you, but he wouldn't do anything. We decided that we would try to push you into it instead." He stood up. "I'll leave now."
It was the greatest news you could've heard! You couldn't wait for him to say something, because you knew John. He wouldn't on any occasion!
John coming into the room took you out of your head. He smiled at you, sitting down at the couch.
"Hello, Y/N. What questions do you have about the album?"
At least he didn't set them up, you reasoned with yourself.
"John, I don't want to talk about the album." Everything was set up, and there was no better time to admit your feelings than here. "I really like you. And unfortunately, Brian did said you did liked me too?"
He went quiet and red in the face. "Y/N, I'm sorry you had to hear it from them."
"It's fine, John, really, but is it true?"
"Yes, Y/N, I really do. You're really beautiful, insanely smart, and just so... perfect. Can I take you out?"
You embraced him. "Of course, John!"
Freddie, Brian, Roger stood standing, peaking through the door. They froze when they saw John glare at them over your shoulder. The boys laughed before shutting the door.
Freddie sighed, dropping his hand to his hip. "Well that didn't take long."
30 notes · View notes
spreadyovrwings · 2 months
Text
64 Oslo Square
Tumblr media
Chapter Nine
"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.
Pairings: John Deacon × (female + plus size) reader
Warnings: Eventual smut, you know how it is
Warnings for this chapter: obscene flirting... characters realising their life has more to it than their job? other characters learning other people aren't quite so scary and can be trusted? those two characters fancying each other like crazy? yeah.
//
Steam billowed from the kettle’s spout. You watched it swell and curl through the air, until it hit the low kitchen ceiling and dispersed. On the mantelpiece, your grandmother’s carriage clock chimed ten.
It was the longest you’d been able to sleep in in years. Though you’d been trying to cast your mind back all morning as you set about making breakfast, you couldn’t recall the last time you’d been able to go to bed without setting an alarm.
Though the days were growing steadily warmer as summer rolled in, mornings were still cold in your little flat. You tucked your chin under the collar of your thick woollen jumper and puffed out a breath to warm your body.
It had not been a good week.
It’s difficult to anticipate how one might react in a situation like yours. You thought if someone had asked you a few months ago what you might say if given life-altering news like the kind Gladys had given you, you probably would’ve said you’d rage and eff and blind until the problem righted itself. You’d go out fighting, at least. But when Gladys set off her grenade, you didn’t say a word. You just stared at her. You stared and stared, and stared some more.
It didn’t take long for you to find your voice, though. Not after Gladys started to describe the whole ordeal. She couldn’t seem to get the words out fast enough, it was like watching someone in confession. Her open mouth was like a gutter, gushing words and apologies and useless explanations until finally, you couldn’t take anymore.
“You selfish cow!”
John came into the room when the shouting started. Mickey was close behind. One of them put a hand on your shoulder, it must have been Mickey because the hand was heavy and solid like a slab of concrete.
“Skip…”
John slipped his fingers between yours, trying to bring you back down to Earth, but you barely felt him.
“How could you do this to us? To Mickey? To me?”
Gladys covered her face with her hands, her chunky rings glinting in the low lights.
“I’m sorry!”
“He’s just had a baby!”
“I know, I know-”
“This is my home!”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m- I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t think in a million years he would-”
You stopped listening. John was murmuring close to your ear, telling you to stop now. His long fingers were wrapped tight around yours, keeping you grounded but only just.
“Sweetheart, leave her,” he murmured. “You should get some air. Just come with me and breathe for a second. Please.”
But that didn’t sound like a reasonable option either. You didn’t want to go outside. You didn’t want to keep having this conversation either. Standing here, shouting at Gladys, that was the only thing that made sense.
“How could you be so stupid.”
The words barely made it out from between your gritted teeth.
You felt John’s hand leave yours. Mickey too took a step back. They both seemed to realise this wasn’t their fight, this wasn’t something they had a right to be involved in, even though they were grieving too.
Gladys was the brightest, most joyous person you knew. She flitted from person to person like a hummingbird. With her brightly coloured hair and her clattering jewellery, she was as dazzling on the outside as she was on the inside. But right now, she seemed to have shrunk a few inches. Her colour had dulled. Her light had gone out.
“I just thought he was interested in me,” Gladys looked down at the floor, ashamed. “No one’s ever been interested in me. And he seemed so eager to learn about the bakery and I thought- I thought maybe he was just proud of me. For building this place. For doing something so amazing on my own. But I was wrong.”
You could still feel your pulse pounding in your neck and the base of your skull. You couldn’t recall ever feeling so angry and let down in all your life. Time seemed to be rushing by you, and all you wanted was for John to hold your hand again.
Gladys still couldn’t look at you. In a way, you were relieved. You didn’t think you’d be able to meet her gaze either.
It was difficult to order the feelings surging through you. You loved Gladys. You owed her so much. You’d do anything for her and until today, you would have sworn she’d always put you, or at least Oslo Square, above all else. Despite everything, she was a good person. You knew that. She was enticing and gregarious and too trusting and a fool. And she had let you down for the last time.
“I will never forgive you for this,” you said, then turned and walked into the kitchen, through the back door and out into the alley.
But you didn’t get far. You never would.
Sinking down on the bakery’s back step, you folded your knees up to your body and prayed the pressure would take the ache away. It didn’t. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sob that lay in wait in the back of your throat.
Sun filtered through into the alleyway, falling on the ground in puddles of light. Above you, the sky was so clear, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. And you just wanted to cry and cry and cry.
There was a sound behind you, the scuff of a boot against the cement steps. You pushed your face into your crossed arms, not ready to face anyone just yet.
“Skip?”
It was John. Of course it was. Who else would they send after you?
He called you by your nickname again, then as he came to sit beside you, your real name, softer, more intimate.
Finally, you raised your head.
He was looking at you closely, his clever eyes switching across your face. He was trying to work out how upset you were, how carefully he needed to tread around you. That was just his way, John was just being a good friend, but right now, you didn't want kindness and gentleness, you just wanted to be left alone.
“John, I think maybe…”
“It’s going to be alright.”
It wasn’t like him to interrupt. Usually, John weighed every word with care, as if each syllable would cost him a great deal, or he had a finite number at his disposal. You had always admired that about him; everyone else in your life spoke so carelessly, like it didn't matter at all.
“John…”
“C’mon,” he said, nodding now, like he’d made up his mind about something. “Let’s go upstairs. We’ll have a cuppa and we’ll-”
You wrapped a hand around his arm and squeezed gently, asking him to stop without a word. John looked so crestfallen, you couldn’t bear it.
You stood up, crossing your arms over your chest, as if it would help to keep the sickness sitting in your throat at bay.
“I think maybe you should go home,” you said as gently as you could. “I’ll call you later. Okay?”
John looked surprised, then a little hurt. It shouldn’t have annoyed you but it did a little. He had no idea what you were going through, he should just listen and know that when you said you needed some time, you meant it.
But the small part of your brain that could still think clearly knew that wasn’t fair. If the roles were reversed, as they had been before, you knew you would badger John relentlessly until he was forced to talk about whatever was bothering him. But this wasn’t about an exam or a tiff with his band, this was your whole life, your whole future, and it had wrenched from your grasp without you even knowing it
“Okay.” John slowly rose to his feet, his hands awkwardly moving from his pockets to his hips, behind his back and then to his pockets again. “I’ll come see you. Later.”
You nodded, your lips pulled back in a grim smile.
“I’ll call you,” you said again firmly.
For a moment, John didn’t move, he didn’t even blink. Then finally, he seemed to get the message.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Just… Be careful with yourself, darling.”
Then he was gone and you were alone again.
That was two days ago. You hadn’t left your lonely flat since.
You poured boiling water into your favourite mug, waited a few minutes, then added the milk. Your movements were robotic, rehearsed, the habit of a lifetime that required no thought at all, and thank God, as you didn’t have the energy to think or feel much of anything.
The phone rang again but you didn’t even spare it a glance as you padded back to your bedroom and closed the door.
/
Life went on like this for a few more days before finally, you decided to pull yourself together. You got dressed, headed downstairs, and debated whether or not to turn on the ovens.
Mickey hadn’t come into work since the news. You couldn’t blame him, he had a baby at home and a wife to reassure. You had no one. Just an empty flat and a cold, silent bakery. But even that wasn’t yours anymore. Mickey phoned often enough though, asking if there were any updates and if he could do anything to help. You wished you had something to tell him.
You looked around at the old kitchen. The multicoloured tiles from renovation after renovation, the cookers and the ovens, all older than half the buildings on the road, the pots and pans, bowls and utensils, all lying unused. They seemed to stare at you, waiting for answers, just like Mickey, just like the customers you watched from your window, who passed by every day and soon left again, looking disappointed and confused.
Yeah, you thought, me too.
You grabbed some paper from behind the till, scribble a quick note, then sellotaped it to the door.
Closed until further notice.
You stared at the sign, letting the words truly sink in, then turned and went to go hide yourself away upstairs.
Then the door chimed.
“Skip?”
You looked up, heart pounding. It had only been a few days, but it was the longest you’d gone without seeing John for the best part of a year.
You’d somehow forgotten how tall he was, how lanky and gangly he looked standing in the bakery doorway, his perfect, long hair a striking contrast to his shabby clothes.
He smiled at you, shy and unsure, and you wished you could do more than stare back.
“Hi,” John said as he carefully pushed open the door all the way and finally stepped inside.
As the door rang shut again, you gritted your teeth. You thought if he’d asked, if he’d given you the choice, you probably would’ve said that now wasn’t a good time and he should come back later.
“Hi,” you said instead, and watched him pocket the key Gladys had given him on his first day.
John looked at you like he was waiting for you to say more. You couldn’t blame him for that. You’d led every conversation you’d ever shared, guiding him and teasing him, wheedling information out of him with a fine hook. Now, you couldn’t for the life of you think of anything to say.
“You haven’t been answering the phone,” John said eventually. “I was worried.”
He cautiously approached the desk. Perhaps he’d only just noticed the thick tension in the air, or maybe he was just having trouble pushing through it, but he seemed to take careful steps, his eyes fixed on you.
“Well,” You tried not to sound huffy but it came out all wrong. “I’m kind of dealing with something right now. I don’t have time for…”
“What?”
He was challenging you, daring you to say more. You clammed up, feeling chastised.
“Did you talk to Gladys?”
You nodded.
You’d spent the last few days in meetings with your boss, discussing what had happened, trying to figure a way out of this mess, going over the details and again and again until you were both exhausted and resigned to the idea that this place was no longer yours. Everything that Gladys had built, everything you’d worked for, was gone.
“What did she say? What’s going on?”
John came closer until he could rest his hands on the counter. You stared at them, following the outline of each of his long fingers.
He really did have such lovely hands. The round onyx ring he wore on his little finger, the silver one he always took off and pocketed when he was helping out, because it was Freddie’s and he didn’t want to ruin it. The little scars from his childhood and faded burns from mucking about with machines. You’d missed them.
“Did you fix it?”
You pressed your lips together and shook your head.
“No.”
At home, you blankly stared at the ceiling, at the television screen, into the mirror. It had slowly begun to dawn on you that outside of 64 Oslo Square, you had nothing. Friends you saw once in a blue moon, no hobbies, no interests, no idea of what the future would hold. Everything, you’d put everything into the bakery, your whole life. In just a few weeks, you’d even have to find a new flat. Everything was falling apart.
“There has to be something we can do. She’s made a mistake.”
“I know.”
“C’mon, love. We can sort this out.”
It was too much. It was just all too much. You didn’t want to hear positivity and hopefulness, you didn’t want anyone to be kind to you, especially John, not after the way you’d pushed him away. You didn’t want gentleness and softness, because it meant he thought something had happened to warrant that care, and you didn’t want to be someone who needed looking after. You didn’t want to be someone that had had something so awful happen to them.
“I can’t do this.”
You pushed away from the counter and moved into the kitchen, heading for the door to your flat. All you wanted was to crawl back into bed and shut out the world. Compartmentalism had got you nowhere, not when one of the best things about your job had turned up out of the blue asking you a million questions and caring about you far more than you deserved.
You didn’t expect John to follow you, but you heard his boots clunking against the kitchen floor, his voice soft and low as he called out again,
“Skip?”
You bit back a sob. You weren’t Skip anymore. You weren’t the captain of anything. You had no bakery, no business, no prospects, you were just- You were nothing.
“Leave me alone.”
You tried to sound forceful but the words got caught in your throat.
“Love, please-”
John was right behind you as you wrenched open the door up to your flat. You could hear his stupid boots on the stairs.
“John, I can’t-”
“Just talk to me.”
“You don’t understand!”
You stopped in the middle of the stairs and span around. It must have taken John by surprise because he staggered to a halt, one foot hanging in midair, as if he’d been in the middle of a step.
“In a month, I won’t have a home or a job, and this place will be packed up and turned into luxury flats or some half-arsed storefront selling overpriced street food to bastards like him, and I won’t have anything.”
It was as if someone else was doing the talking. You could almost believe you were standing beside yourself, watching as you shouted at John, your eyes shining and your jaw tight. You wanted to tell yourself to stop, that he didn’t deserve to be talked to like that, but you couldn’t close the floodgates.
“And you, you’ll swan off with your band or pack it in and become an engineer, and you’ll forget all about us and this place, and I’ll never see you again.”
John’s eyes flashed but his expression was as neutral and measured as ever.
“That’s not going to happen,” he said evenly. “You really think that little of me?”
“Oh, shut up, I was only-”
“Don’t tell me to shut up. You don’t get to decide how much I care about something. Alright?”
“Why would you care? You’re just the delivery boy. Some student Gladys took pity on cos she can’t resist strays.”
“I love this place too, you know I do. Things aren’t as easy for me as you think.”
You scoffed. It annoyed you that he could be so rational and calm at a time like this, when all you wanted to do was shout and accuse and lash out.
“Oh, poor John. It must be so hard for you, being a genius and having to choose between being rich and famous and being a bloody rocket scientist, or whatever the fuck it is you do. Life must be so difficult.”
Finally, John scowled. He moved closer, so now he was on the step just below yours, your faces level for the first time.
“You don’t know anything about my life.”
“Not for lack of trying!”
“You’re so- I’ve given you more of myself than I’ve ever given anyone!”
“Oh, well lucky me.”
“God, you’re-”
“What?”
“You’re…”
John trailed off. He seemed to realise, at the same time as you, just how close you were to each other.
You waited, hardly daring to breathe. John was maybe a few inches away, his chin tilted up ever so slightly so that he could meet your gaze. His pretty, silvery green eyes were fixed on yours, as if to make a point. You were fighting the same urge, to not look down at his lips, angled so perfectly up towards you, it was enough to make your chest lurch.
Slowly, so slowly it was almost painful, you watched as John’s gaze finally slipped and he glanced down at your mouth. Surrender. You followed immediately, and felt time speed up again. You caught your breath. Your heart was hammering so hard, you were sure John must’ve been able to hear it, feel it.
John’s gaze dropped again and stayed for longer this time, very obviously debating something that terrified and excited you all at once. It was just a matter of who would give in first.
“We’re not going to kiss,” you whispered, not trusting your voice. “Not like…”
You made the mistake of letting your eyes fall to his lips again, one last time. They parted ever so slightly, an invitation, like he was asking you to give in and take what you’d been wanting for so long. You pressed your lips together and immediately regretted it. You’d given yourself away.
The corner of John’s mouth twitched up into a little smile.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured. “You said some horrible things to me.”
You pulled in a lungful of air and closed your eyes. The moment was gone, but it still took you a second or two to get your feet back on the ground.
“I’m sorry,” You rubbed your tired eyes, feeling guilty and ashamed and dizzy all at once. “I was being stupid.”
John shrugged.
“Just because it was hurtful doesn’t mean it wasn’t accurate.”
“Still, I’m being an idiot. I’m sorry, John. It’s been a fucking awful week.”
He smiled to let you know he understood. Then his eyes dropped to your mouth again, just for a second, but you couldn’t have missed it.
“Not like what?” he asked softly.
“What?”
“You said ‘We’re not going to kiss. Not like…’. Not like what?” John raised his eyebrows. “Not like this, you mean?”
It hadn’t occurred to you that you’d spoken those words out loud. It was jarring to hear John repeat them back to you, and even more surprising to realise that’s exactly what you meant.
You nodded.
“Not like this.”
This wasn’t the right time, as much as it pained you. He was so close, looking up at you so sweetly, telling you how much he cared about you and that he just wanted to help. But John was right, you’d been horrible to him, and you were so sad you could barely breathe. When you did kiss him, you wanted it to be right, you wanted it to be good, you wanted to make the world stop turning.
John nodded, looking down at his ridiculous shoes. When he looked up again, his gaze still lingered antagonistically around your mouth. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose.
“When then?”
“What?”
“When can I kiss you?”
You couldn’t help it, you laughed.
“When you get me my bakery back.”
John grinned. He had such a lovely smile, so bright and honest.
“I’m gonna hold you to that.”
“Promise?”
John crossed his index finger over his heart.
“Promise.”
You beamed at each other. For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed, like nothing was wrong, or could ever be wrong. Because John was here and he was smiling at you, and he wanted to kiss you and knew you wanted to kiss him. But then reality slowly seeped in, harsh and so cold, it made you shiver.
“It’s hopeless, John,” you murmured, and pressed your face into your palms.
John wrapped his long fingers around your forearms and squeezed gently. When he carefully pulled your hands away from your face, you saw he was smiling sweetly.
“Shall I stick the kettle on?” he asked.
You’d never heard anything more romantic in your life.
You led him up the stairs to your flat and let him make you a cup of tea, while you sat on the sofa and watched him move around in the kitchen.
It was only tiny. Even ‘kitchen’ was a generous word, it was just the two sideboards, the hob and some cupboards set into the wall, but John moved around them as if he’d lived there all his life, and you were, once again, assured that he was fated to be 64 Oslo Square’s delivery boy.
“I was thinking about finding a flat. For after uni.” John handed you a mug and sat down beside you. “You could, um… Maybe I could start looking now and… You know, obviously we don’t know when things will… But I could look and…”
You blinked at him.
“Are you asking me to move in with you?”
John’s cheeks were tinged pink.
“I just want you to know you have options. I know you’re going to figure this out, but I want you to know you have somewhere safe to stay.”
Your chest squeezed as a wave of affection washed over you. How did you ever get so lucky? It was a small relief, in a way, to know that no matter what happened, you had a friend in John. The idea of moving into a flat together felt unreal right now. The more you pondered on it, the more the severity of your situation seemed to settle in.
“There’s nothing to figure out, John.” You sighed. “Gladys signed the paperwork. You know, she didn’t even really understand what she was signing? He got her drunk then pushed the papers across the table and told her he wanted to invest in the bakery, she just had to sign. Daft cow.”
“How’s Mickey taking it?”
“He’s alright. He’s a fantastic baker, he could find a job anywhere.”
“So could you.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You’re joking. Everything you make is incredible! And you’re passionate and you’re dedicated… You could find somewhere else. Maybe start your own place someday.”
You laughed softly, embarrassed by the compliment. His faith in you was flattering. No one had ever said anything like that to you before.
You reached out and took John’s hand, folding your fingers between his and interlocking them, as if you’d done it a million times before.
“You’re so sweet. But I can’t.” You squeezed his hand gently. “I started working here when I was sixteen. Have I told you that?”
John shook his head.
“I used to pass by on my way to school. Me and my friends would come in every Friday. And every day, Gladys was there, behind the counter. And she was mad and funny and she let us stay all afternoon, even though we only had enough money for a cuppa and a cake. And when I left school, there was one place I wanted to work.”
You looked up at the photo of you, Gladys and Mickey on your mantelpiece. Your tiny, ridiculous, mismatched family.
“I was just behind the counter at first, like you. But it was fun, it was a living. Then Shaz, the head baker back then, she started letting me help out. I loved it so much. The time things took. The attention to detail. The warmth of the kitchen. And it’s stressful but it’s full of love. You know? Everything we make is…”
You squeezed John’s hand again.
“When you see people smiling because of the things you make… It’s the best feeling in the world. I asked if I could start working as a baker and Gladys agreed, and even knocked a bit off the price of this place.”
Together, you looked around at your tiny flat. It wasn’t much but it was home, it was yours. You’d never had anything that was just yours before, and you couldn’t stress it enough, the importance of having space, having ownership, a room of one’s own, especially for a working class woman in 1973, especially for someone making it on their own.
“This is my home, John. And these people, they’re my family. I had nothing and the bakery gave me a purpose. I can’t just find somewhere else. I can’t. I can’t. It’s Oslo Square or nothing.”
John watched you for a moment, and you wondered if maybe you’d bored him with your outpouring. You wouldn’t be shocked. But then he raised your interlocked hands and held them to his chest.
“I’ll get it back for you. I promise.”
You laughed softly. He’d surprised you yet again.
“Where did you come from, New Boy? You really are an angel, aren’t you.”
“I don’t know about that.” John shyly glanced away. “The bakery means a lot to me too now. I want to help. If I can.”
Was it too early to revise your ‘no kissing’ policy? You really wanted to kiss him. Actually, kissing John would probably fix most of your problems. Or, at the very least, make them much easier to deal with. God, you could probably make him moan with just a kiss, you could tell from looking at him that he’d be a noisy one. Or maybe he’d lay you back on the couch and run those stupidly big hands all over you, playing you like one of his instruments. You wouldn’t mind that at all.
“Skip?”
You blinked. John was looking at you expectantly.
“Oh, sorry,” You gave him a wonky sort of a grin. “Just a bit tired, I think.”
John didn’t look like he believed you but he let you off the hook.
“I think you need to get out of the house.”
You had to agree. Aside from nipping to the shops for the essentials, you hadn’t left your flat since Gladys’ news.
“Where do you wanna go?”
“Well, actually,” John said guiltily. “I have to meet the lads at three. I wondered if you wanted to come.”
“To watch you rehearse?”
“It’ll probably be really boring for you, but you’ll get to see a few arguments. And we can get lunch first or dinner after or… I don’t mind, I just want you with me.” John blushed. “But you can say no, I didn’t mean to-”
You laughed softly. He really was the sweetest boy alive.
“I’d love to, John.”
/
That afternoon, Queen were rehearsing in a studio space in South London. John was tempted to grab the tube but you convinced him onto the bus, remembering, as you handed over your change to the driver, that he’d once admitted he was nervous about travelling that way. If he was going to be a proper Londoner, you thought, he had to learn how to use the buses, and the 49 seemed as good a place to start as any.
You watched John watch the world go by. He really was so beautiful and he had no clue. He had some semblance of an idea that he was alright, you knew that. The way John preened in front of every passing mirror told you so. But he didn’t see the lovely slope of his strong nose, or the way his grey eyes shone every time he saw something that piqued his interest, or the way his lovely, funny mouth twitched at the corners just before he was about to murmur something to you in that lovely, funny voice.
You’d tell him, you decided. Soon. You’d tell him just how beautiful you thought he was.
It was only when you followed John through the quiet, carpeted corridors of the recording studios that you began to feel nervous. You’d never been anywhere like that before, it was a foreign land.
As you passed, you peered through the porthole windows of every door to catch glimpses of steely grey microphones and mixing desks in big glass boxes. It was like something out of a film, something you’d only ever seen in magazines and photographs.
John seemed totally at ease. You supposed you were seeing him in his world for the first time. He would protest, he was a scientist, an engineer, he wasn’t a rockstar, but he was a musician, through and through. This world of dials and crossfades and endless electric cables suited him very well.
Eventually, he pushed open a door and held it open for you, gesturing for you to go in first.
The room was only small, probably all he and his friends could afford to hire by the hour. In the corner sat a shiny, black grand piano. Freddie tapped on the keys, humming under his breath as if building a tune just from a few plaintive notes. Next to that, there was a row of guitars all standing to attention, and a drum kit, steadily being put together to just the right requirements by Roger.
He looked up when the door opened.
“Hi, John. We were just saying-” Roger stopped in his tracks and immediately brightened when he saw you come in. “Bakery girl!”
“Hiya, Rog.”
You laughed as he came over to give you a big hug. It had been a while since you’d seen John, so it had been even longer since you saw his friends. You were sure Roger was only sweet to you because he knew it annoyed John but you were more than happy to play along.
John waited until Roger had gone back to his drum kit to stop frowning.
“Brian not here yet?” he asked, a little gruffly.
Freddie scoffed.
“He’s late. Again. He’s teaching somewhere in Balham. He’ll probably be hours, you know how he likes to bang on. You don’t play guitar, do you, love?”
You smiled shyly as Freddie also came over to greet you.
“No, sorry. Just the recorder in Year 3.”
“Ah, you’ll fit right in.”
Freddie beamed.
You didn’t know him as well as Roger but every time you saw Freddie, you practically tripped over yourself to befriend him. He was just so cool, so beautiful, his voice soft and his mannerisms so enchanting. He drew you in, just as he did the crowds when he was on stage, like a siren beckoning in beguiled ships.
“How are you doing?” Freddie held you by the shoulders as his soft dark eyes searched yours. “We’ve heard about this awful business with that twat. Andrew, was it?”
“Alastair.”
“That’s the bastard.” Freddie shook his head. “I’m so sorry, love.”
You wondered how much John had told them. By all accounts, he wasn’t the most talkative of people. In fact, you were still getting used to how much he spoke now. If you compared the boy standing beside you to the boy who first anxiously walked into the bakery that cold January night, you would almost say they were completely different people.
“Thanks, Freddie.”
“Are you staying?” asked Roger.
You glanced at John and he shot you an encouraging smile.
“If it’s okay with you lot?”
“Make yourself at home!”
You found a seat off to the side, just behind John’s amp.
You couldn’t help staring, transfixed, as he got himself set up. You could watch his hands forever, the way his fingers slipped over the strings, how the instrument fit perfectly against his body. Even watching him plug in his bass was mesmerising. It all just seemed to come so naturally to John, as most things did. He really was wonderful.
Queen warmed up slowly, giving Brian more time to turn up, and as they did, they passed ideas back and forth to each other. It was like a foreign language. Musical terms, notes, lyrics, pacing, you didn’t understand any of it, though you loved to listen to the boys figure it all out together.
For the most part, Freddie and Roger talked back and forth, while John watched, thumbing pensively at the thickest string of his bass as he waited to play. But you noticed how they never decided anything without consulting John for the final say, and his word seemed to be gospel.
John looked back at you over his shoulder and shot you a rare confident smile. You just had time to blush before the door opened and Brian fell in, apologising and shaking his head so that his wild, dark curls danced.
Brian waved to you but didn’t waste any time chatting. He grabbed his guitar and struck up a chord that filled the room with that familiar, quintessentially them sound.
They were magic to watch. You couldn’t wait to see what they became.
Soon, Freddie started to complain that he needed a drink to soothe his raw voice, and Roger and Brian went with him. They asked if you and John wanted anything but you both declined quickly, eager to be alone together again.
As soon as the door shut behind them, John turned to you properly and smiled. He nodded down at his bass, asking wordlessly if you’d like to try.
Grinning, you nodded too, and tried not to look too pleased as he ducked out of the strap. John gently lifted it over your head, and you tried to keep still as he settled the bass against you. You’d never held a bass guitar before. You hadn’t expected it to be so heavy.
“Oof, wow.”
You rolled your shoulders back, adjusting your posture so that you could balance its weight better.
“I know,” John’s hands skirted over your shoulders, making sure the strap was sitting comfortably first before he came round to stand in front of you. “I’ll have a terrible back when I’m an old man, I’m sure of it.”
Trying to remember how his hands moved when you watched him play, you lifted your left hand and pressed the tip of your index finger against the first metal string. It was thick and strong, and indented your skin as you pressed down. You couldn’t imagine how he managed to play so quickly, so deftly. The instrument seemed ungainly and oversensitive to you.
“You make it look so easy.”
John just smiled.
It was nice to see him in his element, to see him confident and sure of himself. He’d had once told you that he only picked up the bass because his first band needed it. You found it hard to believe, John and the bass, they seemed made for each other.
“You’ve almost got it. Here.”
You held your breath as John moved to stand behind you again. His left hand came up to cover yours, gently twisting your wrist around so that it was positioned nicely under the neck. With his other hand, he plucked a few notes on the lowest string, then took your index finger between his and showed you how to curl it just right. You swallowed thickly, and hoped he wouldn’t be able to hear your shaky breaths.
“Feels funny,” John said as he watched you pluck out a few tentative notes. “Me teaching you something for once.”
Face hot, you just tried to concentrate on playing right.
“You’re a much better baker than I am a bassist.”
John moved closer to correct your left hand, and now his chest was pressed up against your back. You tensed, trying to keep as still as possible but it was difficult to concentrate with him so close. All questions about whether he was doing it on purpose left your head when he spoke softly by your ear, his breath tickling your skin.
“I don’t know,” John let his hand slip down your forearm, just as it did the neck of his bass, and tentatively let it rest just above your waist. “Looks pretty good from where I’m standing.”
You stopped attempting to play, it was pointless. You couldn’t so much as hold a thought in your head, let alone carry a tune. You turned your head to the side until you could just see John out of the corner of your eye.
“You’ve taught me a lot, you know,” John went on. “Not just the baking. You’ve made me much braver.”
His big hand felt heavy against your side. You were suddenly hyper aware of the slightest movement of each of his fingers. While his other arm was slung across the body of the bass, his fingers tucked underneath it to support its weight, the fingers of his left hand pressed into your soft waist ever so slightly and you had to hold back a gasp. You were touching so much, it was insane, you could barely remember your own name.
“I think I just bullied you into talking more.”
Your voice was shaky and low. You knew John would catch it but you didn’t care. You were too busy thinking about how warm his chest felt against your back, and how if you angled your hips just right, you could sink back into him until his hips were fitted against your arse. Then John spoke again, so close now that it felt like his lips were close to brushing your neck
“I’m glad you did.”
You could practically feel him smile against your skin as he added,
“You’re good for me, I think.”
Slowly, carefully, you turned your head a little further, and John shifted around so that you could meet each other’s gaze properly.
His confidence seemed to slip the moment he knew you could see him, but the hand that rested heavily on your waist slipped down to your hip and squeezed.
“I think you’re good for me too,” you said, and smiled when John blushed under your gaze.
There was no space between you at all. Just one move, one inclination of your head, one press of John’s hand, and you’d be in his arms, your fingers in his lovely hair, your mouth pressed against his with only the bass between you, and suddenly the worst week of your life would be over.
You had just the wherewithal to realise how wrong you’d been. You thought you were alone, you thought you had no life outside of the bakery, but here you were, in the arms of the sweetest boy you’d ever known, listening to his band create some of the best music you’d ever heard, and John truly believed everything would be okay. Maybe you ought to trust him.
John let out a short breath, the corners of his mouth turning upwards, as if he too was nervous and excited and uncertain all at once. How sweet it was to know he felt exactly what you were feeling.
“What you said about, erm, no kissing till I’ve got your bakery back,” John murmured, his pretty eyes fixed unashamedly on your mouth. “Is that a… Is that a hard and fast rule? Or more like a suggestion?”
You smiled, and watched John’s adam’s apple bob in his lovely throat.
“What do you think, pretty boy?”
It was very clear from the look in John’s eyes what he thought about that. He bent his head, slowly and with great consideration, just like with everything he did, until the tip of his nose brushed yours. You felt your eyes close without you needing to think about it, your lips parting as you heard John say,
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting t-”
“Oh, have we got a new bassist? Lovely.”
Your eyes snapped open in time to see Freddie swoop into the room with a drink in his hand. He was smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
“I can’t tell you how pleased I am, love. You’ll look much better in the costumes.”
John begrudgingly moved away but he was smiling to himself. Caught. When his hands left you, it felt like all the air had come rushing back into the room.
The boys chatted as they filed back in, passing around ideas and thoughts on the next show, but you could barely hear them over the sound of your own heart thumping in your ears.
John stayed close. You couldn’t be more relieved. After today, after this week, you never wanted him to move out of arm’s reach again.
“Thanks for today,” you whispered to him, when you were sure the others wouldn’t hear you. “I needed this.”
John shrugged, then carefully helped you out from under his bass. He slipped it over his head, then swung the guitar round so that it wouldn’t bump against you as he took your hand in his.
“You’ve saved me enough times. It’s about time I returned the favour, Captain.”
“I’m still Captain, am I?”
“Of course! You’ll always be my captain.”
“I was worried… I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me anymore, now you don’t have to.”
John smiled.
“It wasn’t the bakery I was coming to see, love. I haven’t been getting up at the crack of dawn and peddling across half of London for the bakery. I didn’t suffer scraped knees and a daft helmet for Gladys and her bloody ancient coffee machine.”
You marvelled at this for a second, then you smiled.
“It’s Mickey, isn’t it.”
John laughed.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Can’t get enough of the bloke.”
“I knew it, I knew it.”
”It’s the arms.”
“Who can blame you.”
//
Master List
25 notes · View notes
Text
But You Can Never Leave
Tumblr media
Series Summary: You are an overwhelmed and disenchanted nurse in Boston, Massachusetts. Queen is an eccentric British rock band you’ve never heard of. But once your fates intertwine in the summer of 1974, none of your lives will ever be the same…
Chapter 1: Needles And Fretboards
Chapter 2: Accept The Fucking Offer
Chapter 3: Signed In Blood
Chapter 4: City Of Dreams
Chapter 5: Don’t Even Think About It
Chapter 6: Something Borrowed, Something Blue
Chapter 7: Forget Everything You Know
Chapter 8: The Light
Chapter 9: Follow The Rules
Chapter 10: Premonitions
Chapter 11: The Rush
Chapter 12: The Mirror
Chapter 13: Paper And Ink
Chapter 14: Fever
Chapter 15: Midnight Manhattan
Chapter 16: A Different Kind Of Life
Chapter 17: Shadows
Chapter 18: Summers In Florence
💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜
51 notes · View notes
psychedeliagroove · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
I’m having a Bob Dylan phase
735 notes · View notes
twotitsjohndecaon · 7 months
Text
You And I
Surprise bitches, more shit. I believe I meant to post this on August the 19th (holy day) but here we are now. Happy late birthday to John Richard Deacon and thank you for all of the feedback on my other shit so far :) <3
Word Count: 1.9k
Warnings: nothing for once just cutesy shit :)
Tumblr media
It was the first warm day all year. Truly warm, and a bit strange to have so early in the year. Daylight savings hadn’t even happened yet so the sun still set early in the day, though not as early as it had been recently. Even a few extra minutes of light was nice. And it was still cold, but no longer freezing cold most days, and a select few tufts of grass and clumps of flowers suggested a bloom was oncoming. But today was a bit of an anomaly. It was extremely warm, warm enough to dress however you wanted, and as luck had it you had the day all to yourself, which was fantastic, as you had no idea how you’d spend it inside. Not when the sun was warm and the air was thick with promise like it hadn’t been since summer.
John, your boyfriend, did not have the day off, however, but he didn’t seem to care. He took the day off anyways, disregarding the angry and incessant calls from Freddie he’d probably receive, but they’d manage. He could just do his parts later. John wasn’t going to miss out on this day with you.
You both arose that morning later than usual, tangled in your clean sheets and each other, and slightly less bundled up than usual because you didn’t have to be for once. For a while you kissed each other with closed eyes, softly wherever you could reach until they could be opened, blinking the sleep away slowly into just as dreamy of a sight. John took longer to wake up, nuzzling into your neck to hide into your sweet scent and to attempt to keep his eyes closed for a little longer, but even he couldn’t resist the excitement of the day to come eventually. Lots of smiles, giggles, soft kisses, and cuddles consisted of most of your morning, and then a nice shower. As you finished getting ready for the morning, digging a summer dress out, you headed to the kitchen to grab something to eat, where you found John, now dressed, already making something. He was smearing some sort of spread onto a piece of bread, assembling sandwiches, and just as you reached to try to take one, you were stopped.
“Ah ah ah,” he scolded.
“Why not?” You pouted a bit. John booped your nose with his free hand and smiled, raising his brow.
“These aren’t for right now. They’re for later. But you’re more than welcome to help yourself to anything in the fridge.”
“Wow, John, thanks, for reminding me I’m aloud to eat my own food in my own home,” you commented sarcastically, but with a light tone to show him there weren’t actually any hurt feelings. You headed over to the fridge to grab a nectarine and sat to eat it on the counter nearby. Your feet dangled off of the edge as you reached over quickly to brush John’s hair over his shoulders to not get in the way of his food assembling. “So what are the sandwiches for later for?” you asked, taking a crisp bite of the fruit. You had just seen them in the shop for the first time in a while, the first of the season. 
“Well,” John began, his focus still on the sandwiches. “I thought since I have the day off, and you have the day off, and it’s so nice outside, we should spend some time out this afternoon,” he explained.
“A picnic?” you asked excitedly. John hummed in confirmation and you gasped excitedly. John looked up from his sandwiches at this point. Your excitement was so adorable to him he had to take you in. Before he could look for long, you set your nectarine down and drew him into a big hug, holding your hands out straight a bit awkwardly to not get the sticky juice on your hands in his hair. John chuckled a bit, moving the knife into his other hand farther from you and grabbing your side to complete the hug, filling you both with warmth. It was a bit of an awkward jumble, but it didn’t matter, and you two could do a proper one soon enough. John pulled away.
“Thought it’d be a nice idea,” he smiled. 
“It is a nice idea!” you said, continuing your breakfast. You finished and washed your hands, standing in front of John. “Ok. What else do we need?”
“You don’t have to do anything, love, just relax, I’ll take care of it,” he said softly.
“Nice try, Deaky,” you teased. You started helping him on your own accord, adding more fruits and grabbing some wine, cheeses, and crackers to add to the picnic. John had finished the sandwiches and grabbed the basket kept in the back of your closet, and the two of you started assembling the basket, you admonishing him for throwing everything in instead of making it look as nice as possible.
“But love, it looks very pretty this way, but the cheese and crackers will fall out if you put it this way,” he said, beginning to undo what you’d done. You whined. John stopped and gave you a kiss.
“How about we arrange it for practicality, and once we’re there we can pick some flowers and you can make it look even more pretty on the blanket?” You were satisfied with this, giving and “ok,” and kissing him back. 
“I’m just saying though, if you’re going through the effort of a picnic, why not put the effort into the picturesque quality of it?” You reasoned. 
“I completely agree, love,” John smiled. The two of you put on your shoes and grabbed a blanket. He held out his hand. “Shall we?” he asked, and you grabbed his hand, smiling as you walked firmly together. The two of you walked to the park nearby, a nicely sized one with flowers peaking out and a pond. The two of you found a sunny spot and set everything up, John picking you flowers as you arranged everything to your liking. You gasped in joy as you saw the gorgeous flowers he’d gotten you, and were flattered he chose such nice ones for your date. Finally, the two of you sat down with satisfied sighs, and John didn’t hesitate to pull you to sit between his legs, to which you squealed for a moment but adjusted happily. The two of you got to work eating, talking, basking in the sun and each others company. There wasn’t a worry in the world, and there were laughing children playing nearby, dogs running around happily, and ducks slowly marching by before taking a cooling dip in the sun. The weather remained perfect, not too hot and you never got chilly either. It was nice getting time to catch up with John too. He wasn’t on tour, so you had been seeing him, but still not as much as you would have liked with the next album starting up. Neither of you had any big things to update each other on, but it was still just as satisfying to talk about the hum-drum ordinary things in your life from recently. John fed you some chocolate adorably and you tucked a flower behind his ear, loving the sound of his voice and his presence touching you. Both of you were finally relaxed too, not that you stressed each other out normally, but from other aspects in your lives. You could really see the difference with John. His shoulders weren’t hunched, his jaw not tensed, his hair silky smooth and not mussed from running his hands through it out of nerves. His smile too, he wasn’t afraid today to bear his toothy smile which loved, the small gap between his two front teeth and the way the sides of his eyes would crinkle so adorably. Eventually, the sun set and moon rose, still early, but neither of you wanted to move. It wasn’t any less colder, but a transition still felt needed. The two of you packed everything up quickly, but decided to stay out a bit longer.
The two of you strolled down the streets, weaving in and out of parks and along the river when you found it, down past shops and row houses and lights along the city, talking or enjoying the ambiance, never a dull moment. The two of you did stop when you hit the river again at one point, you stopping and grabbing the edge of the rail to look out onto the city, the moon glinting brightly moreso than the city lights across the water, glittering and sparkling, even beyond the sun. John saw you, looked at you in the moonlight, saw how your hair moved softly in the light breeze, and took you all in. He came up behind you, holding you close and breathing you in. You smiled, leaning into him, giving him a kiss.
“I love you so very much,” he said quietly. The two of you were nearly forehead to forehead, smiles all around.
“I love you more than anything,” you told him. John hummed happily and the two of you looked out onto the river together. 
“You’re it for me, Y/N,” he started. You looked to him a bit confused, but he just smiled more and explained. “There’s never going to be anyone else I’ll love more than you. I know it. Because it’s impossible.”
“John,” you whispered, turning around in his arms, touched. He kissed you and grabbed your hands. He seemed thoughtful, almost concerned for a moment, but decided to go for it.
“Would you marry me one day?”
“Are you… proposing?” you said, now wide eyed, but unsure what he was saying. 
“No. Not right now. I just mean, is that where you see us going? Is that what you want with me? Because that’s what I want with you. Only you. And I know that for certain now,” he explained. Warmth filled your heart.
“Of course I would marry you, John. I’d marry you right here right now,” you said, the biggest smile on your face.
“Well… good,” John chuckled, unsure of how to continue, but both of you were completely pleased and even more secure in your relationship. You chuckled, and then noticed he still had the flower behind his ear which you’d put earlier. You pulled it out, fixing his hair, and sniffed it, taking in its lovely fragrance before looking deep into John’s gorgeous eyes.
“To us?” you said, raising the flower like you were making a toast. John chuckled. You were so adorable and perfect to him, for him. He grabbed your hand, fitting it over yours to also hold the flower.
“To us, for always,” he said, sealing your promises and dedication to each other with a kiss. You continued to hold the flower as you walked home together hand in hand, happy beyond belief. The two of you stayed up a bit and went to bed. But just as John fell asleep, you were still awake. You took the flower which you had set down once you got home, grabbed a book, and pressed it so you could keep it forever, because today, this time and this feeling with John wasn’t something you’d ever want to forget. You set the book back in place, and it looked almost like it didn’t contain something so important, and hopped into bed with John, who immediately grabbed you close, pulling you into him and whispered a sleepy “goodnight,” as the two of you drifted off to sleep once more, always together.
26 notes · View notes
pebblewritesj · 2 years
Note
hello there I was wondering if you could write headcannons abt being one of queens little siblings it doesn't really matter and Dating John Deacon <3
LOVE this because I love sibling hcs and John Deacon is my all time fav and I never get requests for him DD:
YOU'RE FREDDIE'S SISTER
John is so scared of Freddie when it comes to how he views the two of you being together.
Like his worst fear when asking you out for the first time wasn't just what you'd say, but a big portion of his fear was just him being afraid that Freddie wouldn't approve.
But Freddie caught on to John liking you, so he thought he'd say something.
"What was it you needed, Fred?" "John." "...Yes??" "...I know you like Y/N."
POV the scariest moment of John's life ^
No but he had a reason to be scared at that point because his thoughts were 'literally who the fuck pulls someone into a corner with nobody else there and tells them that they know their deepest secret'
So, naturally, his response was;
"...What?"
He's a real smooth talker like that I guess idk.
"Don't 'what' me John, it's incredibly obvious."
John went silent.
"Why don't you ask her out?"
John's mouth opened to answer, but he was still scared!!
Freddie was kinda suspecting John just didn't think Freddie would like it or something like that but that sort of confirmed it for him, especially after John finally got the words out his mouth.
"I got scared." "Of what?" "Her...and you."
Basically Freddie gave John this whole little pep talk to ask you out, and it worked thank God.
Freddie would have been lowkey pissed off if you said no.
But ofc you didn't!!
The rest of the band thinks you're very cute, Freddie has titled himself to be your relationship's number one fan.
When you and the band are out at a bar together and you and or John get drunk, Freddie has to BEG the other members to keep you away from each other because he doesn't like that type of PDA.
Like in that situation he actually could throw up just watching John tug at the hem of your shirt or something.
But other than that he knows you're both the cutest couple on earth.
245 notes · View notes
lady-maracas · 1 year
Note
i love ur writing sm 😭 can u pls do number 14 angst prompt with deaky ?? it’d mean sm haha, thanks !!
I cant lose you again.
Tumblr media
Pairing: John Deacon x Reader
Word count:1,8k
Warnings: None!!
Masterlist
I loved living in the countryside. I always thought the calmness and the beautiful landscape were way better than the loudness of London. Again, my friends seemed to think otherwise. Most of my childhood friends moved to the big city, while I stayed here. The others? Well I guess their only reason to stay here was because they didn’t have enough money to move out on their own.
Well I am sure not ashamed of living the countryside! In fact, I’m actually quite glad I get to stay here with my parents. I have a great job at a bakery, where I get to meet lots of wonderful people.
The sound of the house phone pulled me out of my thoughts. I heard my moms rushed steps as she answered the phone.
“Hello?” I heard her say.
Silence.
“Yes, she’s upstairs, let me call her just a sec- Y/N!!?” She yelled.
I ran down the stairs. I already knew who was calling, it was my best friend. I had met her at the bakery. She was already working there when I got the job. She was the one who showed me everything I had to know. She is like a big ball of energy, I love her.
I snatch the phone from my mothers hand and try to take a breath before I let out: “Hey! What’s up?”.
“Honey you need to come to the pub with me tonight!” She almost screamed.
“Well actually I was planning on-”
“No, no. You don’t understand, I didn’t say ‘Do you want to come to the pub with me tonight?’, I said ‘You NEED to come to the pub with me tonight!’ It was not a question!” She was clearly excited, I didn’t know why, but before I even had the time to ask her what’s got her in such a rush, she added: “I heard there was a small band playing tonight, and I’m not one to usually spoil the surprise, but you might actually know one of them…”
“Know one of them? What do you mean?” I held the phone between my ear and my shoulder, trying to ignore my mothers complaints about the phone bill for this month.
“Do you remember your bestie, your best pal, Johnny boy-” she cooed.
“John?!”
“Anyways I don’t have very much time to talk. I’ll come pick you up around 7pm. Be ready!” She hung up before I had the time to process what she just said.
Deaky?
//
A couple years earlier…
“Why are you even leaving? Why are you leaving me behind? Am I not good enough for you” I complained to my best friend. We grew up together. We were attached at the hip. When you saw me, John would never we far behind.
Unfortunately, he decided to study far away from here. In fact, he was leaving for the big city, London. It broke my heart when he told me the news. But seeing him so happy made me realize I couldn’t hold him back. I wanted to follow him, to move in with him in the city, but I couldn’t leave my life here behind. My parents needed me, I loved my job and I always pictured myself living here forever.
I kept complaining while he was packing his stuff. He would be leaving tomorrow.
“What are you even talking about? You are perfect Y/N! You have been the greatest of friends to me during all these years and I wouldn’t change it for the world! But this is my chance, Y/N, it’s my chance to finally be happy and do what I love! Can you please try to understand that?” He kept packing, and the more he packed, the more he sounded annoyed.
“I understand that…” I looked down at my feet. I truly wanted him to be happy, even tho it meant I would lose him.
“I promise I’ll call and write to you everyday!” He finally looked at me, taking a break from packing to take a small breath. “This doesn’t mean we won’t stay friends, you’re still my #1, always remember that”
Oh and how I wanted to cry, I wanted to hold him forever, I wanted to keep him from going away, I wanted to stay at his side. But that was not possible. No matter what I said, no matter what I did, I couldn’t change his mind.
//
Now.
“Quick, Y/N, we’re going to be late!” My best friend yelled at me through the rolled down window of her car.
“Late for what?” I ran to her car.
“For the drinks, of course!” And she drove away.
When we got there, the place was actually a bit more packed than it usually was. This town wasn’t big, which meant every face was familiar. And as of the band playing on stage, one of the faces was familiar too…
She was right.
He’s here.
And he saw me. Oh god he saw me! His expression changed immediately after we made eye contact. He tried his best to keep playing without being distracted by my presence, and I tried to act calm, as if I didn’t just see my ex best friend I haven’t seen in more than two years.
I drank my drinks, ignoring the piercing stare Deaky was giving me behind my back. And when they were done with their show, everyone applauded, while I was stuck in my own thoughts.
“Come on! You’ve got to go see him! It’s been so long”. My best friend grabbed my arm and pulled me out of my seat.
“Stop! I can’t do that!”
“Why not?” She turned around and gave me a weird look.
“Because I…I don’t-”
“Exactly, you have no good reason. Let’s go!” She pulled me in the “backstage” area.
As soon as I saw him I froze, and so did he. We both looked at each other with tears in our eyes. I thought it would be awkward, I thought I’d be mad at him because he stopped writing to me after a year. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t even find one ounce of anger towards him.
So I ran up to him, and I think he ran up to me too, and I gave him the biggest hug I’ve ever given in my entire life. I heard him whisper a small “Hey little one” and I pulled back. I took a good look at him.
His hair had gotten longer, it looked so soft. His grey eyes shined under the bright lights. His features had gotten a little sharper. But in the end he was still my Deaky.
“I can’t believe you’re here! I mean, I’m so happy to see you!” I find myself choking out those words.
“I’m so happy to see you too! The boys wanted to do some shows and I couldn’t stop myself from asking to do one here! I missed this place so much.” I looked over his shoulder at his band mates. They suspiciously looked at us with satisfied grins on their face. One of them, with dark shoulder length hair walked towards us.
“You must be Y/N! Deaky here talked about you a lot! I’m Freddie.” He extended his hand for me to shake, which I took gladly. “You’re welcomed to stay here with us and catch up with your dear boyfrie- Ow!” He didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence, because John elbowed him in the ribs.
“Okay Fred, I think you can go sit with the boys, I actually have to talk to Y/N if that’s alright.” He turned to me, asking if it was alright.
“Sure!” I said.
“I meant- outside.” He added shyly.
“Oh! Yes, alright let’s go.” I walked out the nearest door, which I assumed lead outside.
I sat down on some stairs, and the boy beside me did the same. We stayed in comfortable silence for some time before he let out: “I missed you.”
“I missed you too. It’s been what? Two years?” I said softly.
“Myes, two years.” He nodded.
“You stopped writing to me, calling too.” I added.
“I really tried, Y/N, but it was hard to find the time with the band-”
“So that’s what you do now?” I scoffed.
“Do what?”
“Play in a band?” When he left, it was to study electrical engineering. Knowing he didn’t even end up doing that made me feel like I had lost him for nothing.
“I’m happy.” he simply said.
“Good for you.”
Silence.
“You know I loved you, right?” He said after some time.
“Yes, I loved you too…”
“No, you don’t get it. I LOVED loved you.” He looked away, as if he was ashamed of what he was about to say.
“Like I said, I LOVED loved you too. It broke my heart when you left, because I wasn’t just letting my best friend go, no, you were more to me.” I admitted.
“Oh…”
“It doesn’t matter now though does it? It’s all in the past. Right?” I let out, trying to keep in my anger.
He didn’t say anything.
“Right?” I asked again.
“Y/N, I…I know it’s been some time, I know we’re older now, but to me you’re still the same little Y/N I’ve come to love. I tried to forget about my stupid crush on you and I honestly thought I did forget about it but as soon as I laid eyes on you tonight, it all came back rushing on me.”
I stared at him. Oh how I loved him. I loved him with all my heart. I never wanted to let him go. What I did next was insanely stupid. I don’t know what went through my head, but I couldn’t stop myself.
I kissed him.
It was quick, just a small peck. As soon as I pulled back, I blinked a couple of times, trying to process what just happened. He did the same but then he leaned back in, cradling my cheek softly and planting a much more soft kiss on my lips.
I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to stay like that forever, with him. Unfortunately, we had to pull back to take a breath. When I looked up at him, he was already staring at me, a small smile across his face.
“Come with me” he said.
“What?”
“Come to London with me, move with me please Y/N-” he got up to his feet but I cut him off.
“Deaks, I can’t. You know I can’t leave my life here behind!”
“Please, I beg of you, I can’t lose you again!”
“I…alright” I give up, I don’t know what I’m fighting for anymore. I love him. I’ll be happy with him, whenever I’m with him, I know I’ll be happy, in the countryside or in the city. “I’ll come with you.”
“Really? That’s amazing!” He picks my up and lifts me off my feet. “I love you so much.”
“I love you more.” I smile.
“That’s not possible!”
“Then I love you just as much as you love me!” I laugh.
“That’s a whole lot then.”
“Good”
48 notes · View notes
royalty-fics · 2 years
Text
So, I Have Bipolar
pairing/s: queen x reader, slight john deacon x reader
summary: reader has bipolar disorder and queen doesn't know it yet
warning/s: bipolar disorder, emotional roller coasters
masterlist
Tumblr media
You were with Brian at the cinema to watch a movie you've been excited to see. You were running all over the place and ranting about what you think might happen in the movie. He was smiling at you fondly as you jump up and down while waiting for your popcorn and drinks.
"How about you, Bri? What do you think might happen?" You ask your tall friend, eager to hear his thoughts. He hums for a moment, grabbing your order and walks with you towards the theatre.
"Well, I hope that there's enough character development so that we can sympathise with the character," Brian says, passing one of the popcorn buckets to you. You nod with a wide smile on your face, already eating some of your butter popcorn.
During the movie, you were super into the film, feeling as if you were actually in it. Brian split his attention between the screen and you, fondly watching your emotions flash on your face.
At the end of the movie, you were bawling your eyes like crazy. You tried to form sentences, but you were stuttering so hard, Brian was worried that you'd choke to death. Patting your back, he tries to comfort you as you walk back to his car. You keep on crying the whole way making people watch you out of concern or judgement.
When you were in the car, you suddenly became as calm as the eye of the storm. Brian didn't pay much attention to it, and starts driving to your flat.
"That fucking bastard," You growl out, the curly haired man jumping in surprise at the anger in your voice, "He had no right to do that, he had NO right to hurt him like that."
You glare at the road in front of you, crossing your arms across your chest. Brian spared a glance at your face with dried tears, "Well, mate, if he didn't do that, then there wouldn't be any progression in the story, would there?"
You huff out in annoyance, "Yeah, well, he's still a bastard." Brian stole another glance at you, and was worried at the sight of you happily dancing with the songs on the radio. How'd you become so happy so fast?
Tumblr media
"Darling, I'm here!" Freddie knocks on your door repeatedly. You open the door, looking like a racoon just ransacked your kitchen. His dark brown eyes widen at the sight of you, "What in the world happened, love?"
You let him into your home, groaning out, "I just woke up, Fred. What are you doing here?" You ask him, not meaning the hostility in your tone. Freddie just looks at you with a raised brow, but doesn't comment on it.
"We agreed to write songs together today, remember?" Frowning, you mentally go through your brain to try and remember if you did promise that. Coming up with nothing, you tell him that you don't recall, "How can you not remember, darling, we agreed on it yesterday!"
"Are you sure? I'm pretty sure I was at the mall with Roger yesterday.." You start to doubt yourself. Did it really happen or not? "Anyways, since you're already here, let's just do it, alright?" Freddie agrees and makes a show on sitting on your couch. You huff out a laugh and grab your guitar and some paper.
You start working on some songs, writing out lyrics that pop into your mind. Freddie notices one that says, 'There isn't a day that goes by; When I don't think of how to die'. He looks at you in alarm. You don't seem to notice the weight of the lyrics you wrote and sing them out with all your inner emotions.
At the end of your songwriting session, you stand up and sigh in relief. You stretch for a moment, and whistle to your kitchen, "Do you want any tea or coffee, Fred?" You sway your hips when music from your radio starts playing. Freddie observes you for second. You seem much livelier than earlier, which is a relief, but he can't shake the sight of you looking so distraught.
"I'll have a coffee, please." You nod and start making his coffee and your tea, singing along to the song.
Tumblr media
You were at Roger's flat, helping him out to sort a few things. You watch him walk to you with a box full of clothes. He drops the box, letting it thud loudly on the floor, and plops down beside you.
"Goddamn, this a lot of clothes, Rog," You gaze at the varied fabrics of cloth. Is that a faux fur coat?
He chuckles softly, "Well, I was a bit of a fashionista growing up," You scoff out loud.
"Was? Sorry to say this, but you still are, mate," You make fun of him about the flower shirt and the dark jeans he's wearing. Plus, he's wearing sunglasses inside! Who even does that anymore?
Roger pushes you teasingly and starts working on sorting out the used clothes. You pick up each item and laugh to yourself at imagining the blond wearing these. You have trouble sorting them out, though, not knowing what your friend wants.
You hear him call your name, with some insult on how you were dumb not to know how to sort clothes out. You turn at him angrily, throwing the garb you were holding at the wall, "What the fuck did you just say to me?"
Roger looks at you, confused at your outburst, "I didn't say anything, love," You scoff, standing up from your position.
"If you're going to call me names, don't be a coward in admitting it," You sneer at him, feeling hurt, tears gathering in your eyes. The blond flushes in anger, but holds it in, noting how distant and wet your eyes seem. He stands up and tries to hold your hands, "No! Don't hold me-"
Your body couldn't handle the amount of stress and strong negative emotions running through you. So, as a coping mechanism, you faint and drop down to the floor.
Thankfully, Roger catches you in time. You slightly twitch in his hold as he carries you to lay you down on his bed. He pushes back some of your hair out of your face, troubled with what just happened and with how you were curling up in yourself. He didn't know what to do, so he just massaged your hands and feet.
Soon enough, you wake up from your fainting spell, looking around confused. You see Roger stare at you, his blue eyes distraught.
"What happened? Why am I in your room?" You tilt your head to the side, racking your brain for any explanation, but coming up empty handed.
The blond strokes your hair, "Nothing, love, just rest, yeah? You must feel awful." You yawn and nod, already feeling a bad headache come on. As you doze back into slumber, Roger goes to the other side of his bed to cuddle you.
Tumblr media
"Deaky!" You run up to the tall brunet, jumping on him. John stumbles back in surprise and at the weight of you on him. He wraps his arms around you to support you.
"Hey, love," he says softly, putting you down on the ground. You smile up to him and link your arms together. Together, you walk through the mall, looking through stores. You try on clothes together and buy the best looking ones.
One in particular was a pink button up shirt with pineapples. You give it to John for him to put on. He looks at it with hesitance, but goes to the fitting room anyway.
When he comes out, your eyes brighten up like stars, "Deaky, holy shit, it looks so good on you!" You clap your hands, applauding him like it was one of the runway shows.
"Are you sure, love? Don't you think it's too.. much?" Your smile drops as well as your hands. John doesn't notice your change of moods, picking at the shirt with second thoughts. Maybe it did look okay, if you says so. "Though, if you like it-"
"No, you don't like it. We'll leave it here and go eat," You say in an emotionless voice. You stare blankly at the brunet, and he stares back in unease. But, like before, he does what you tell him to.
When you walk to the food court, you don't link your arms with him like you have for the whole day. At this point, John has noticed your mood, wringing his hands nervously.
You order your food and go sit at one of the tables to eat. You haven't said a word besides ordering the food. John watches you play with the food, something you never do; Especially if it's with your favourite food.
"Look, if you liked the shirt on me, we can go back and buy it," John says, trying to make you feel better. But it was all for naught when you glare at him.
"You obviously did not like it, John." He flinches when you use his name. You only called him by Deaky or Johnny. "Don't bother anymore."
After you finish your food, you both stand up and walk towards the exit of the mall. John follows you like a kicked puppy, but you didn't have enough energy to feel bad for him at the moment.
"I'll drive you-"
"No, I can go home by myself, John." He shuts his mouth and nods. You don't bother waving goodbye to him and leave him standing there alone.
When John is back at his flat, his telephone rings and he picks it up. He hears you crying on the other side of the line.
"I-I'm sorry for be-being a douche to yo-ou, Deaky," Your voice was hoarse and John was hurriedly letting you know it was alright and that he understands; Even if he really didn't. But, at least you felt much better after some consoling and promised to make it up to him next time.
After you hung up, John leans against the wall with a hand on his heart. What a crazy day.
Tumblr media
You were at the studio with the boys, accompanying them with their recording sessions. You nervously jiggle your legs, nervous about the news you were about to tell them.
When they were on a break, they sat down with you and talk about how slow Brian was or how to make the lyrics better.
"I was not slow!" Brian retorts, huffing out in annoyance. Roger, who accused him of this, rolls his blue eyes and let it drop. He didn't want to fight in front of you, still scarred from the last time you were overloaded with emotions.
"Guys," You start out, gaining their attention. Their eyes on you made you more anxious, and you want to back out immediately. Unfortunately, you need to tell them, so they'll be prepared in the future. Or, alternatively, they can leave you if they don't want to go through the trouble, which makes you sad, you didn't want to lose your friends, they mean-
"Love, what is it?" John asks you, worried about how you look so tense. Remembering not to say anything out of place as to not anger you like last time.
You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. All of them are starting to get concerned for you. At last, you found the words that convey what you want to say. Kinda.
"So, I got this thing.." You start, slow with what you're saying, "It's called bipolar disorder, and it's basically where my emotions get out of hand."
It was silent for a second. All four of them sigh in relief and start asking so many questions.
"What do we have to do?"
"Are you getting help for it?"
"Does it hurt you?"
"You can always come over for a cuddle and a chat whenever, love."
You smile, your heart filling with love and affection for the four men in front of you. You were so lucky to have friends that care about you.
89 notes · View notes
bohemianboynton · 2 years
Text
I Held Her Close To Me (John Deacon x reader fluff)
For anon! I'm sorry that it's really short and that you had to wait a while for it.
I know the reader is wearing a night gown, and that the title has "her" in it, but the gender is up to the reader!
Title comes from In Only Seven Days, a song off of the Queen album Jazz.
----
The moon shone through the window and curtains, illuminating your skin through your nightie. John lay next to you, reading a book. 
The day wasn’t eventful for you, but for John, it certainly was. He and the other members of Queen had been working on their new album, Jazz, and although it wasn’t actual jazz music, it was certainly different from what they had previously released.
He yawned, put the book aside on the bedside drawer, and turned off the bedside lamp.
You looked over at him, and got a sudden desire to wrap your arms around him. 
“John?” you asked.
“Hm?”
“Come here.”
John shifted over to you.
You moved one of your arms towards him. “Care to spare a cuddle?” you asked.
“No, not tonight, (Y/N),” he said, touching your arm to move it back.
“Why?” you questioned.
“Just not in the mood right now,” he said.
“Come on now, don’t be silly,” you responded. “You’ve worked hard and I think you need it.”
“Well…”
“Please?”
“Alright then,” John replied with a smile you could see in the dark.
You flipped onto your side, back facing him. 
He inched closer until your bodies were touching, and wrapped an arm over you.
Spooning was your favorite type of cuddling, and John knew that. 
And so the two of you stayed in an embrace until you both fell asleep.
51 notes · View notes
johnlennonswifey · 8 months
Text
My Masterlist 🫶
The Beatles
John Lennon
‘I love you the way you are’
George Harrison
‘Finally, A Break.’
80s!George x Reader (Part 1)
80s!George x Reader (Part 2)
80s! George x Reader (Part 3)
Ringo Starr
‘My lovely secret’
‘I’m here for you’
Paul McCartney
Nothing Yet.
Queen
John Deacon
Nothing Yet.
Brian May
Nothing Yet.
Roger Taylor
Nothing Yet.
Freddie Mercury
Nothing Yet.
The Monkees
Davy Jones
Nothing Yet.
Micky Dolenz
Cast Crush
Mike Nesmith
Nothing Yet.
Peter Tork
Nothing Yet.
48 notes · View notes
magickcandie · 4 months
Text
Sneaky Deaky
Joe!John Deacon x Fem!Reader
Tumblr media
(not my gif)
You were a fairly good pianist and was so grateful of the day you became a part of Queen. With that, came meeting John Deacon. He was so sweet and cute, if didn’t take long before you started dating. Paul had mentioned that this time at the farm was so the band — he never looked at you like you were part of the band, but besides the point — needed the time to focus on music. No distractions! You never thought of yourself as a distraction to John. You two knew there was time to work and time you could spend together. At the same time, nobody knew you two were together. You’d find a way to see John. Even if that meant sneaking around.
On a quiet afternoon, you kept busy. You studied your music, tapping your finger to any surface to memorize finger charts. Well really you were waiting. “Oh, hello, darling!” Immediately you froze. “Freddie. I thought you were by the pool with the boys.” “I was, but Roger sent me back to retrieve his glasses.” He waved around the sunglasses. “What about you? Aren’t you going to come?” “Uh, no. I want to stay in.” You said, trying to keep it casual. “Oh.” He walked towards the door. “Well in that case, I’ll tell Deaky to hurry up. Shouldn’t keep you waiting like that.” “What?” Freddie didn’t give you the luxury of answering your question, just ran out the door. You were shocked and speechless .
John stood by the pool as everyone made their way into the water. Although Freddie wasn’t seen, but he didn’t worry. “Come on, John, the water is nice!” Roger called out to him. “It’s not that. Just don’t feel like it, I suppose.” He said back to his blond friend. Now seemed like a good time for John to make his way back to to the barn, makeshift kitchen. That’s when he saw Freddie walking towards him.
“Go on, Deaky. Y/N seems bored waiting around for you.” “What do you mean, Fred?” John asked, almost as if he was legitimately confused.
“I know about you two. It’s really a surprise the other two haven’t caught on.” “Oh.” “Don’t worry! I won’t tell them. I’ll wait until it hits them in the face. Oh well. Don’t be too loud darling!” John’s face went red but he tried not to focus too much on what he said. Besides the fact that he said you were bored.
“Hello, Y/N.” You immediately beamed up at your boyfriend. He leaned over to give you a quick kiss and sit down next to you. “Deaky,” you grinned at the nickname coming out of your own mouth. “How’s everyone?” “They’re fine. Hey, Freddie knows.” “I figured. He spoke to me about it. Did he tell you too?” John nodded then shrugged.
The more you thought about it and talked with him, the more you realized there was no true reason to hide it anymore. Brian and Roger were sure to not care overall about the relationship. Although... maybe you'd wait until after you left Rockfield farm.
Your conversation went on until late afternoon where Freddie tried to get in a few more minutes of practice. After said practice, everyone retreated to their rooms. You walked John to his since you could say you wanted to get water.
What you were unaware was Brian seeing your goodnight kiss and th exchanging of a plan to continue being together late that night. You didn't account that when you went walking with John late that night that Roger decided to have a smoke and could see you two walking hand in hand. All of that came to light that morning.
You and the bows were sitting in the kitchen eating your breakfast and drinking tea. It was silent but you paid no mind to it, nor the looks Brian and Roger were giving you.
"Okay, I have to ask; Y/N do you fancy, John?" Brian asked. "I just, I saw - not that I was evesdropping or watching you two! - I just saw you kiss him."
"Yeah, I saw you walking with Deaks last night too. So... are you guys dating or something?" Roger asked, leaning forward as if this was the most interesting piece of information to have been said.
"Bri, Rog, if you saw that much, do I really have to explain in?"
You laughed at John's sarcasm, feeling free enough to kiss him on the cheek. Freddie clapped his hands.
"Oh, finally! I was wondering how long it'd take you two." He said to Brian and Roger.
An argument bursted out, and John took you by the hand and you went on a walk.
15 notes · View notes
spreadyovrwings · 6 months
Text
64 Oslo Square
Tumblr media
"Companion' Middle English. From Old French ‘compaignon', literally 'one who breaks bread with another.
Pairings: John Deacon × (female + plus size) reader
Warnings: Eventual smut, you know how it is 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: self… induced… smut…. and some more flirting
//
Chapter Eight
John leaned his weary body up against the door to his room after it clicked shut behind him. His digs had never felt more empty, more dark or unwelcoming.
The last of the day’s light was still filtering in through his tiny, square window, alighting on the scratchy old carpet and highlighting a pile of textbooks he’d forgotten to put away the night before.
With a sigh, John flung his bags down on the floor, then carefully propped up his bass in the corner of the room. He let his fingertips drag along the spine of its leather case, a sort of thank you for helping him play so well tonight. It had become a ritual, though John would rather die than admit that, to himself or to anyone else.
His stomach growled, a dog pawing at the back door, waiting impatiently to be let in. John thought about making some dinner but it was late, he didn’t want to disturb the others as he crashed around in the kitchen. A cup of tea could have been a reasonable substitute, but the process (another usually calming, nostalgic ritual) seemed exhausting and tedious. He just wanted to sleep.
Luckily, John had a good amount of leftover food from the bakery stashed away. He grabbed a couple of the white boxes from his shelf and dragged open their satiny scarlet ribbons. You’d saved him again.
Chewing gratefully on a flaky croissant, John flopped down on his bed and closed his eyes. He was so tired, they stung at first and he had to blink a couple of times so push away the pain.
He polished off the croissant, flicking his fingers over the side of the bed to get rid of any remaining pastry crumbs. He already felt a little better.
John drew in a long breath then slowly released it again, until all the muscles in his body had finally unwound and he had sunk further into the mattress.
“You sure you won’t come in? The sofa’s got your name on it. Or, you know…”
John opened his eyes and stared blankly up at his low, beige ceiling.
How could he have been so stupid. You had stood on your doorstep, asking him, plain as day, if he wanted to stay the night, and just when it mattered most, he’d chickened out.
“You were such a good boy for me.”
John groaned. What a moron. He turned and pressed his face into the pillow. Maybe if he pushed hard enough, he’d get lucky and suffocate.
He could still feel your soft skin against his palm. John found himself curling his hand around the ghost of your cheek, his eyes closing as he pictured you gazing up at him, smiling, always smiling.
“They need you, New Boy.”
“Don’t you need me?”
“I want you, that’s different.”
You got all shy after you said that. John didn’t think he’d ever seen you look so bashful. You wanted him. He knew it. And, God, he wanted you too.
It was late. He had an exam in the morning. He was still hungry and dehydrated after the show. He’d said ‘no’ to you like an idiot. He really shouldn’t do anything but sleep.
John unbuckled his belt with one hand.
He closed his eyes and pictured you laying beside him, the what-would-have-been if he hadn’t been such a colossal git. With a soft, relieved groan, he forced his hand down the front of his trousers, just as the you he’d conjured in his head kissed him hard enough to bruise.
/
Not too far away, you were also staring at the ceiling. Try as you might, you couldn’t sleep. You’d eaten late, you’d stayed up too long, you had a million things to worry about - you’d almost managed to convince yourself these were the reasons you couldn’t drop off. Almost.
With a sigh, you turned over onto your side.
You could still feel John’s big hands in yours. You loved those hands. Skilled in electronics and an expert at the bass. He’d probably play with you just as well, if not better.
You sighed dolefully.
Maybe if you’d been more insistent, if you’d asked again and maybe been more obvious about what you wanted, John would’ve followed you home and you wouldn’t be lying here, alone, pressing your thighs together and trying to ignore the ache between them.
You stared at the wall. You stared and stared and stared, willing sleep to claim you. Behind your closed eyes, images of John on stage awaited you, daring you to do something about how delicious he looked that night.
“Oh, fuck it.”
You stuck two fingers in your mouth and swirled your tongue around them, the way you’d been picturing John doing ever since his trick with the ring. His lovely, funny mouth. You’d give anything to have it between your legs right now.
Whispering softly to yourself, you closed your eyes and imagined how it might’ve started, what you might’ve done if you’d been brave enough to entice him in properly, and all the while you gently coaxed at your swollen clit
You’d have to sit in his lap again. You’d simply die if you didn't get the chance to do that again soon. John had felt so small beneath you but so warm and sturdy too. You could wrap his hair around your fingers as you lazily kissed him, whispering sweetly against his lips as he gasped and rocked his hips against yours.
So close to each other, you seemed to be sharing one breath, you imagined yourself breaking away to mouth down his neck, sinking your teeth in here, sucking a dark mark there, until John was whining and struggling to sit still.
/
His face burning, John pictured you under him, your arms wrapped around his middle, your lovely hands pressing into his back and keeping him close as you moaned into his mouth. He wanted to make you feel so good, just wanted to make you see how much he cared about you with his lips, his hands, his teeth and his tongue.
But it didn’t seem right. His very limited experience (and magazines he would rather die than you ever find out he read) were a guide, but those girls weren’t you. For some reason, John knew this wasn’t how it would go and something in the back of his head was telling him to flip the situation.
You, with your champagne smile and daggerish words. You weren’t going to let anyone push you around, especially not him, especially not when it came to sex. You’d back him up against the wall and push your knee between his thighs, your hands on his hips, squeezing tight as you whispered awful, naughty things against his lips that made his knees buckle.
John wriggled out of his trousers and pants, so desperate he didn’t even bother pushing them both all the way down. He raised his hand to his face, dragged his tongue across his palm, and immediately wrapped his hand around his cock again, squeezing and tugging desperately as he imagined you pushing him flat on his back and smiling down at him.
He moved his free hand so that it rested up by his head, just where he knew you’d place it, and tried to imagine your fingers wrapped tight around his wrist, your nails just beginning to sink into his skin.
“Fuck…” John hissed between his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut.
/
“Fuck- John…”
Your face flushed. You hadn’t meant for his name to slip out. But God, it felt good. It felt right. It felt perfect.
You drew your knee up then let it flop to the side, giving you better access, and all the while you thought about John’s lovely hands pushing your thighs apart so that he could bury his face between them.
“God, you’re so good, you’re so good…” you muttered to yourself, finding your own praises and moans turned you on even more as you rubbed at your clit.
Pictures flooded through your head. You couldn't settle on just one for very long. John’s tongue pressing inside you, his pretty mouth falling open as you slipped your hand around his throat and squeezed gently, the look in those clever grey eyes as he rocked his hips into yours. It was all so much, too much, and even though you felt a flash of guilt for thinking about John like that, it was soon drowned out by the soft little moans and grunts you knew he’d make as you sank down onto him and rode him within an inch of his life.
/
Sweat beaded John’s forehead as he twisted his wrist in just the right way, thumbing at the slit of his cock just to tease himself. His bottom lip clamped between his teeth, he fucked his hand, his eyes squeezing shut as warmth began to pool in the pit of his stomach.
It had been so long since he’d been able to get himself off. The stress of uni, coming home exhausted after gigs, never having much time on his own, it meant it had been weeks since he’d been able to touch himself like this. And now he had a million ideas he’d never allowed himself to entertain before, ideas about you.
Your knees pressing into his sides as you straddled him, the way you’d moan softly as you looked down at him, approving, studying him like you did your recipes, your lovely eyes switching back and forth across his face, his chest, his stomach - now much softer than when he started - and down and down and down.
John groaned, letting his wrist go limp as his hand slipped up and down his cock. He kept trying not to let his hips leave the bed, but it was too much, soon his back was arching like the girls in his magazines.
“Come on, sweet boy…” Your voice, so real he could almost believe you were murmuring by his ear, was soft and sweet and oh so in control. “Are you gonna cum for me, honey? Gonna cum just from being inside me at last?”
John bit his lip harder, trying not to make a sound, but the growing pressure pooling below his navel made it almost impossible. The hand he’d laid by his head made its way into his tangled hair, still damp with sweat from the gig. John wrapped his curls around his fingers and tugged, hard, a move that made him let out an embarrassingly reedy groan.
“That’s it, good boy. Good boy… You look so perfect like this, Johnny. Could cum just from watching you touch yourself. Come on, pretty boy, let me hear you…”
/
You were so wet, you could hear your fingers as they worked. It made your cheeks prickle. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had made you feel like this, so desperate and single-minded.
All you could think about was John, how he’d look beneath you, how he’d whine and gasp as you rode him, his hands up above his head, his pretty chest rising and falling raggedly as he tried to catch his breath, his whole body covered in a sheen of sweat.
You knew he’d let you do anything you wanted. You knew he’d beg you to touch him, to look at him, to take him to places he didn’t think were possible, and wouldn’t stop until you were finished with him. Such a smart, enthusiastic boy.
You could picture him sitting up against the headboard, his face pressed between your breasts as you rocked your hips, his hands gripping your hips, your arse, as he mouthed at your flushed skin, leaving trails of kisses and bites and saliva in his wake.
/
He’d turn up at rehearsals the next day, covered from head to toe in love bites and bite marks, a map of your lips, and he’d wear them all with pride.
John huffed sharply through his nose, his eyes rolling back as he fucked his hand.
Come on, come on, come on, so close, so close, so close…
He pulled at his hair again, just as something began to tighten in his lower belly, and John’s back arched off the bed again, his eyes rolling shut as he whispered to himself.
“Please, please, please… Fuck- Ah!”
He came moaning your name, his mouth hanging open as pleasure rolled through his body. He bent double, folded like a deckchair, the hardest he’d ever cum in his life. John’s hips jerked out of rhythm but he didn’t stop moving his hand, because he knew you wouldn’t. He didn’t stop until it started to ache.
John let his body flop back onto the bed, completely spent. He’d never made that much noise before. He just prayed his neighbours hadn’t heard him.
/
Across the city, your fingers were starting to cramp but, determined, you kept your pace.
Always so obedient. Always so eager to do well. And not for just anyone, for you. Oh, you’d seen the way John preened every time you paid him the littlest compliment, how he beamed with pride whenever you were sweet to him and how eager he seemed to reassure you that you could do anything you wanted to him.
“You’re in charge, Captain.”
Maybe you could learn to like the nickname.
And maybe it wouldn’t take much convincing to get John to let you have him, his lovely hair strewn across the pillow, his back back arching off the bed as you slipped inside him. God, how he’d bounce and roll his hips, his moans rising higher and higher as he begged you to fuck him harder.
“Fu- Johnnn…”
The band across your belly snapped, and you came moaning the delivery boy’s name.
Exhausted, you let your body sink into the bed. Already, you could feel sleep beginning to overwhelm you. You just about had the wherewithal to pull your hand from the front of your pants before you turned over and fell right asleep, your body still pulsing and your mind still buzzing with the thought of John’s whines of pleasure, and the way his hands had felt in yours as he walked you home.
/
The next morning, you danced around the bakery’s shop floor, wiggling your hips and kicking up your heels as you tugged tables and their accompanying chairs into place. It did occur to you why you might’ve been in such a good mood but you chose to ignore that.
Cold, morning sunshine flooded in as you placed some of the goods you’d baked that morning in the window, then the rest behind the display counter. All the while, you sang along with the radio, waggling your head to T-Rex and smiling to yourself.
The world seemed at ease, just for a moment.
“Well, she ain't no witch and I love the way she twitch, uh-huh. I'm her two-penny prince and I give her hot love, uh-huh…”
A sharp knock at the door made you look up. It was about quarter past five, the bakery wouldn’t be open for more than an hour, so you immediately went into defensive mode. Thankfully, you recognised the face pressed up against the glass.
“Roger?”
You opened the door.
John’s drummer almost fell into the shop but he caught himself well.
“Alright, Bakery Girl?”
Roger grinned, wide and youthful, and clearly unaffected by the early hour. He was bundled up in a warm jacket, his shoulders drawn right up to his ears as he glanced over your shoulder into the dark, empty bakery.
You had to smile. This boy was even easier to read than John.
“I’m good, I’m good, yeah. It’s a nice mornin’, innit?” You nodded over your shoulder. “D’you wanna cuppa to take to work with you?”
Roger accepted your offer so eagerly, he almost tripped over his own feet getting through the door.
“You’re in a good mood,” he said, perching on one of the tables you’d set out.
You realised you were still humming to yourself. Try as you might, you couldn’t force down your smile.
“Just- You know.” You shrugged, trying not to look too sheepish. “How’s the market?”
“It’s fun! Hard but… We’re surviving. Barely make enough money to eat but it’s a good laugh.”
He spoke with such brevity, the soft corners of his pretty mouth tugged back into a toothy smile. Still, his words struck you. Roger and Freddie seemed so happy, so at ease in themselves, that you’d hardly believe they were struggling. You made a conscious decision to add them to your list of scrawny, ridiculous boys who needed looking after.
“Well, that’s all that matters, I s’pose,” you said, forcing a smile.
If Roger noticed your worry, he didn’t show it. He was too busy eyeing up the cakes and pastries behind the glass display case.
“Fred’s got this mate in Chiswick says he’s got a ton of swimwear and things for us. It’ll be summer soon, people’ll want stuff like that. Then maybe we can rent a bigger patch in the market. Maybe start selling LPs as well.”
“That’s the dream then, eh?”
“Oh, no,” Roger raised his head, his pretty eyes wide and soft in the low light. “No, the dream is… Walking out of EMI with a contract and my best mates… The whole world and our whole lives out in front of us. That’s the dream. Me and my mates, working together and seeing the world. I want to make things, you know? Be useful. Help people. Help someone.”
He couldn’t know it, but Roger had single-handedly unwound all your worries about your future with John. The way he spoke about it, it seemed so easy, like he was talking about any other job, and the warmth in his voice… Roger really believed it would happen for them. They were going to make it. Maybe you didn’t have to focus your energy on a plan you’d devised years ago. Maybe you could afford to have the same faith Roger did.
“Well,” you said, smiling too now. “When you put it like that.”
Roger sighed with an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders.
“It’s just a dream, Bakery Girl. But that’s all I’ve got.”
“What about John? What’s his dream?”
“Something a lot more pedestrian, I think.” Roger raised his eyebrows. “You probably factor in somewhere.”
Face burning, you turned away to make his tea.
“Shu’ up.”
“Ahh, you know I’m right. I reckon he still thinks he’s gonna end up working in some lab or drawing up blueprints, or somethin’. We’re working on an album, you know. But I think he still thinks it’s just a laugh.”
“But it’s not?”
Roger smiled but his bright eyes, blue as the sea he grew up by, were serious and certain.
“No.”
You twisted your mouth.
“Rockstar or genius scientist.”
“I know. Leave some for the rest of us.”
You both took a moment to marvel at John’s seemingly unlimited potential. Then Roger smiled.
“Has he asked you out yet? I’ve been coaching him. Trying to make him act for once in his bloody life. Grab the bull by the horns.” He waved a hand. “So to speak.”
It proved too difficult to hide your smile, so you gave up trying. Instead, you passed him two steaming paper cups and warned him that they were still too hot to drink from just yet.
While the tea steeped, you set about putting together his breakfast.
“I dunno,” you shrugged. “I could ask him out.”
“Oh, I’d love to watch that.” Roger laughed and shook his head. “He’s great, isn’t he. I really like him. Most people just…”
He made an ineffectual sound and waved his hand again. It seemed Roger too had had his fair share of people letting him down, sadly just by being fundamentally people.
You followed his hand as it came to rest by his thigh again. His fingertips were bandaged. John’s fingers had felt a little coarse the few rare, wonderful times he’d brushed them against your skin. These boys wounded themselves, altered themselves for what they loved. You thought of your own scarred, roughened hands. There was a kinship there you never could have imagined.
“But John’s great. Always there when you need him. Brian bores me half to death most of the time but John’s clever in a nice way. You don’t feel like you’re being quizzed ‘n’ tested when you’re with him. You’re just… With him.”
Roger had the faraway look of someone realising just how lucky he was. You knew he wasn’t just talking up his friend, he really believed every word. You’d never seen someone so proud or so fond of his friends.
“Anyway, he’s a pain in my arse too, don’t get me wrong. But he’s great.”
Beaming, you passed Roger a bag filled with pastries, and a carrier for his and Freddie’s morning cuppas.
“I think so too.”
/
“New Boy!”
The shout was so sudden, John almost fell off his bike. He gripped the handles tight, wobbling dangerously as he stuck out his heels and dragged himself to a slow and graceless stop.
It was late in the afternoon. John had just finished his last round of deliveries and was looking forward to spending the rest of his day with you, helping out in the kitchen, and trying not to think about kissing you - the usual day to day.
You were standing in the bakery’s doorway, smiling so broadly, orbiting astronauts could probably see it. You were keeping the door propped open with one hand, the other was outstretched towards him.
“Mickey’s ‘ere! And he brought the baby!”
Before he knew it, John had been ushered inside. Your lovely hands switched dizzyingly between his hips and the small of his back as you guided him to the kitchen, where Mickey was waiting with a tiny bundle of pink cloth gathered up in his enormous arms.
“Oh, Mick…” John couldn’t help beaming as he leaned in to take a closer look. “She’s lovely.”
There had been photos posted up by the phone for weeks now, of little Dot just a few hours old, waving one tiny hand at the camera. You’d put up a few more recent pictures of Mickey and his family just the other day, all of the Caines squashed together to fit in frame. Nothing compared to seeing something so small and beautiful in person for the first time.
“She’s a righ’ terror,” Mickey beamed down at his little girl. “Drives her mother insane. An’ her old dad. Reckon she’s gonna be singer with the way she goes on. Maybe she could front your band one day, Johnny Boy.”
“She’d give Freddie a run for his money, I bet.”
John held out one finger and brushed it delicately across the back of one of Dot’s tiny fists.
“So, who does she look like more, d’you reckon? You or Rita?” he asked.
You snorted.
“You’re ‘avin a laugh. She’s perfect. She’s all Rita.”
“Ahhh, she’s got my charm. And my devilish good looks.”
Mickey finally tore his gaze away from his little girl to smile at John.
“Do you wanna hold her?”
“Me? Are you sure? I’ve never really…”
“Don’t be daft. C’mon, you’re part of the family now.”
With careful instructions on how to position his arms, Mickey gently passed Dot over, settling her against John’s chest.
The baby made a soft sound of disapproval, she never liked being far from her father’s warm, broad chest, but she soon settled. Her eyes closed, Dot sighed softly and went right back to sleep.
“There. You see?” Mickey patted John’s shoulder with a hand the size of a bear’s paw. “You’re a natural, mate. Won’t be long till you’ve got a few of your own.”
It took all John’s strength not to glance at you.
“She’s amazing, Mickey.”
John smiled as he ever so gently began to sway from side to side, trying to remember how his parents had soothed his little sister when she was just a baby.
He only looked up when he felt your hand on his arm. You were looking down at Dot, smiling gently, but your warm touch, the way your fingers pressed into him, that was a secret, just for the two of you.
“She’s so perfect. Shame you didn’t name her after me but…” You grinned. “Hang on, I have to take a photo. Stay right there, don’t move.”
John watched you go. He didn’t tear his gaze away until the door up to your flat had clicked shut behind you.
It was strange, but he already missed you. Just being near you set his whole body at ease. He could think clearer, his heart kept a regular pace, at least, until you smiled at him, or touched him, or looked in his general direction. When you were gone, it all came rushing back, like the pressure in the room had changed. He’d never needed to be near someone before.
John caught Mickey smiling at him and turned his attention back to the baby in his arms, hoping he didn’t look as he felt, like a love struck idiot who couldn’t concentrate whenever you weren’t around, let alone when you were.
“So,” Mickey was grinning now, much to John’s chagrin. “How’s things with you and the Captain?”
“They’re good.” John kept his eyes down, hoping in vain that it would obscure how red his face was getting. “We’ve been seeing quite a lot of each other but… No official date yet.”
“So you’re not goin’ together?”
John grimaced.
“I haven’t really asked her properly. It’s my fault,” he said sheepishly.
Dot began to fuss in John’s arms. She raised one of her little fists in the air, as if she too disapproved of his cowardliness.
Mickey reached over. John thought he might want to take his little girl back but he just brushed one finger across her clenched fist and whispered to her sweetly. Dot settled again, a look of contentment on her angelic face.
“She’s like her dad. Never ‘appy unless she’s complainin’.” Mickey smiled fondly. “So what’s keeping you? Last time I saw you, seemed like things were movin’ along a bit.”
“They were. They have.”
John thought about the night before, how soft and open your eyes had been as you gazed up at him. He had held your face, your hands, practically admitted everything he felt for you, and you’d smiled and said you wanted him too. God, why hadn’t he kissed you?
Because, John thought, because he was afraid. Even after everything you’d said, everything you’d done together, he was terrified that you didn’t actually care about him, and this was all a roll of the dice that would end with him losing the first place he’d felt safe in years, and a second family he didn’t want to ever say goodbye to. And he could lose you too. The thought made him sick to his stomach.
“What if she doesn’t like me?” John said quietly. “Not like that?”
Mickey shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“She does.”
John huffed.
“She thinks I’m useless.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“She thinks I’m quiet and funny-looking-”
“She thinks the world of you, you muppet-”
“And too skinny.”
“She loves you!”
The words hung in the air, like dust after a building collapses, crawling and curling their way through the kitchen, until they had filled John’s eyes, his lungs, his mind.
He blinked, heart sore, begging Mickey not to make fun of him with just a look. But Mickey nodded earnestly as he tucked Dot’s blanket under her back, as if promising her, or perhaps on her, that he would never joke about something so serious.
“She adores you, mate,” he said, just before the door opened again and you came bounding through, camera in hand.
“Okay, hold still. Say cheese!”
John tried his best to lower his head so that he and Dot would be in frame together without disturbing her. He felt Mickey wrap an arm around his shoulders and realised he was smiling without having to be told.
The camera clicked, flashed, then whirred as it spat out the polaroid.
“That’s one for the album,” you said as you stared at the photo, waiting for it to develop. “Shame Glad isn’t here. Where is she?”
Mickey scoffed.
“She ‘avin’ lunch with his nibs.”
“Well then,” You placed your free hand on your hip. “I’d say that’s lunch then, boys.”
You didn’t flip back the sign on the door. John tried not to look too surprised, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen you pass off an opportunity to keep the bakery open. Money was tight, this place was your whole world, you had a lot invested in 64 Oslo Square.
Perhaps you’d simply grown tired of working yourself to exhaustion when Gladys couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Perhaps it didn’t feel right to work when there was such an important visitor. John didn’t care what had driven this decision. He was just pleased to see you take some time for yourself. You’d more than earned an afternoon in the sun with your family.
/
You took John’s hand and led him across the road to the chippy, where you handed over loaves of bread, sweet pastries, and cups of tea in return for three bags of chips, cod for Mickey and a battered sausage for you and John. Michael’s Fish Bar had been kicking about for almost as long as the bakery; this bartering system had existed for far longer than you’d worked at 64 Oslo Square.
After dishing everything out, you pressed a plate into John’s hands and led him out through the kitchen doorway to the alley. You sat down together, side by side on the top step, your knees touching, and happily tucked into salty, hot chips that burnt the tongue and soothed the soul.
“So what’re you reading at the moment?” John asked, after a few minutes of comfortable silence had passed.
Beside you, Dot gurgled in her pram. You hadn’t had much experience around children, especially babies as tiny as her, but you knew enough to gingerly push the buggy’s back wheel with the toe of your shoe, gently rocking her back into her dreams.
“Oh, nothing at the moment. Been too busy,” you said through a mouthful of chips. “You got any recommendations?”
“Uni is so intense right now, all my suggestions would be written by Seymour Hammond.”
“Right,” you said, bewildered. “No, yeah. He’s fab.”
John picked up another chip and stared at it. He was chewing on his bottom lip, tugging the skin between his incisors as he thought.
You watched, mesmerised.
“You know, when I first moved here, I hated London. The smell, the crowds…”
“The price of fish and chips.”
That made John smile. He stopped worrying his lip and finally popped the chip into his mouth.
“But when I’m here, I see it.”
“See what?”
“Home, I suppose. This place feels like home. Or it’s starting to, at least. Does that make sense?”
In the ocean of your heart, something was stirring. Towering waves of fondness, warmth, and something you were beginning to seriously suspect might be love, rose up, crested, then broke, washing over your heart again and again, gently but firmly, undeniably.
“I think you’re a bit mental but… Yeah, it makes sense.”
You glanced over your shoulder. Mickey was on the phone to his wife, letting her know he’d be home soon and asking if she needed him to pick up anything on his way. You and John were alone.
You shrugged.
“Maybe it’s Gladys’ tea.”
John snorted.
“Or the free food.”
“Or the good company.”
“You do tend to make things a bit brighter, I’ve found.”
John looked at you, really looked at you. Gone were the days when he could hardly hold your gaze. Long gone. He had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen.
“I don’t fancy your drummer,” you said, cheeks beginning to burn at how abrupt you’d sounded.
John’s eyebrows pulled together, his nose wrinkling.
“I didn’t-”
“I know you think I do. He’s nice but he’s not my type.”
John didn’t look convinced but he was still smiling.
“I thought you liked pretty boys.”
“I do.” Heart pounding, you turned your body towards his. “Pretty boys with pretty hair and lovely eyes, cute noses and a funny mouth.”
“My mouth isn’t funny.”
“Then why are you smiling?” You grinned. “Very presumptuous of you, by the way, John.”
Pink dusted his cheeks. It was such a lovely sight, you could barely resist brushing your fingertips along the path laid out for you, across his cheek, down his neck, to his chest and beyond.
Then he moved, turning his body in towards yours, so now your knees were pressed against his upper leg. John was so tense, you could practically feel the muscles in his thigh jump at your touch.
He lowered his head, as if to whisper in your ear, but his eyes never left yours.
“Call it a theory,” John said. “One I’ve been mulling over for a while.”
You watched, hardly daring to breathe, as he leaned in closer. Your fingers itched to wrap around the collar of his shirt and pull him in, but the thought of moving right now seemed impossible.
“And have you managed to mull up a hypothesis?”
“Oh, definitely,” John’s eyes dropped to your mouth. “Trust me, I’ve had lots of thoughts about you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m having one right now, actually.”
You wanted to respond with something clever. You wanted to take the next step in this dance you’d fallen into. You wanted to see if you could make John’s ears go as red as his cheeks. But you couldn’t think of anything to say. You couldn’t think at all.
You felt your hand move without your say so. It slipped over his knee and found a home on John’s thigh, keeping him close, keeping yourself grounded.
He was looking at you so intently, you could hardly breathe. Sunbeams filtered into the alley, light particles that had travelled hundreds of thousands of miles, just to get tangled in John’s lovely hair. The shadow cast by his aquiline nose, the tiny smile at the corner of his brilliant mouth, the softness of his gaze. How could you resist?
“John…”
Your heart was aching in your chest, pressing against your ribs, pushing you forward towards him. You had to draw in a breath to try and ease the pressure in your chest, but it shuddered through, and there was no way John couldn’t have noticed.
He smiled, sweet and reassuring, as he bent his head, murmuring your name under his breath.
Footsteps behind you made you straighten up. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d closed your eyes.
“‘Scuse me, lovebirds,” Mickey barged between you carrying two enormous black rubbish bags. “Bin man comes at seven.”
You weren’t violent by nature, but suddenly the idea of knocking Mickey’s lights out and shoving him into a dustbin seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea.
John looked about as mortified as you felt. But he was still enticingly close. He hadn't moved away.
You were still squeezing his thigh. Part of your brain screamed at you to take your hand back, to apologise and pretend like it had never happened. But there was another voice, braver, softer, that told you it was alright, to just trust yourself, to trust John, and to never, ever let him go.
“John, I-”
The bakery door opened. You turned your head in the direction of the sound, frowning quizzically. That was odd, you thought, you’d definitely locked it.
Then you heard Gladys’ voice. She was calling out for you. Something twisted in your chest, though you couldn’t be sure why.
Squeezing John’s thigh reassuringly, you gave him a quick smile.
“Don’t move,” you said firmly, then scrambled to your feet before he could say any more.
You didn’t look back as you hurried through the kitchen. If you did, you feared you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from grabbing his face and having another go at kissing him senseless.
Heart still hammering, you made your way into the bakery where Gladys was standing in the centre of the shop floor. She looked pale, her usually lively eyes dull and almost unseeing.
For a moment, you worried that she was angry with you for shutting the shop. You tried to summon a smile, your hands automatically reaching out to make her a cup of tea.
“Gladys! I thought you were-” You cleared your throat, your mind still spinning from the dark, soft look in John’s eyes as he leaned in to kiss you. “Doesn’t matter. Mick’s here and he brought the little’un!”
“Where is everyone?”
Gladys’ voice was hollow. She was gripping a slip of paper in her hands so tightly, you could see it was beginning to tear.
“They’re outside having a fag. Well, Mickey’s having a fag and John’s got chips. We just stopped for a late lunch.”
When she didn’t say anything, you frowned.
“Are you alright? What’s wrong?”
“He’s taken it.”
“Taken..?” You shook your head, trying to ignore the sickening, churning dread in the pit of your belly. “Who, Glad? What’s going on?”
“Alastair,” she whispered the name like it was bad luck. And perhaps it was. “He’s taken the bakery.”
Time slowed, choked, before finally falling to its knees. An age passed. Civilisations came and went. Stars burned and died. And all you could do was stare. The bakery had never been so silent.
“What are you talking about?” you asked once you’d found your voice again, hoarse and reedy as it was.
Gladys’ face crumpled like the paper in her hands.
“I shouldn't have. I know I shouldn't have but he- The way he explained things, it… He had me change the names on the deeds. It felt like a good idea at the- It’s his. It’s all his.”
Tears filled Gladys’ eyes.
“It’s gone, love. It's gone. Alastair owns the bakery.
//
Master List
30 notes · View notes
Text
 72 Hours In Montreal
Tumblr media
Series Summary: John Deacon is a rock star at a crossroads. You are a world-weary employee at a Yankee Candle shop. You'll only ever have three short days in Montreal together…or will you??
Part I
Part II
Part III
💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜
23 notes · View notes
michelle-is-writing · 2 years
Text
Baby Sister, Joe Mazzello
Can I request a fluffy Joe Mazzello x fem. reader where reader has given birth to their second daughter and Joe’s mom brings their daughter to the hospital and Joe and reader introduce their daughter to her new baby sister?
Tumblr media
Word Count: 840~
The bright and early sun was what woke me up this morning, my eyes quickly adjusting to the light as it fell over Joe’s sleeping form in the hospital recliner. Soon after I woke up, a nurse entered our room with our newest addition to the family, Amelia, keeping quiet as she tried not to stir the sleeping baby in front of her, plus the grown man asleep in the corner. It was around feeding time, so she was probably hungry. Thankfully, she latched on without any issues, and soon after she began feeding, she fell back asleep once more.
Holding our brand new baby in my arms was exciting for me. It had been a few years since I gave birth to Lillian, so being able to hold someone so little was new to me again. As I held her, watching her little eyes twitch every so often, I found myself reminiscing on all the times Joe and I learned something as brand new parents. All of the moments I found myself surprised as I watched Joe never grow mad or agitated once with me or our baby. I had spent so many years of my childhood with my parents doing exactly that, and I hoped I would never be in a relationship like that. Instead, I met Joe, and instantly I knew he was different from the rest.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I hear a groggy voice beside me say, bringing me out of my thoughts. Turning my head toward Joe, I smile at his tired face just as he gets out of the chair and comes over to me and Amelia. Sitting on the edge of my hospital bed, Joe watches as Amelia sleeps against my chest, wrapped in a pink blanket and her tiny fist resting against my skin. His face only grows with happiness before he leans forward and gives me a gentle kiss. “To have pushed out a little human and still look as great as you, man,” Joe zones off, giving me an almost dopey smile. “I’m so lucky you love me.”
Before our sweet moment can continue, a gentle knock sounds against our hospital door, causing Joe to call out, “Come in.” Once the door opens, our three-year-old comes bounding into the room, face full of smiles and utter excitement. Behind her stands Joe’s mom, an almost tired look taking over her face as she watches her granddaughter run to my bed. However, Joe quickly catches our little girl in his arms before she can reach us, and instead, he carefully leans her down so she can get a better look at her new baby sister.
“Wow,” she draws out, her hazel eyes wide as can be. I thought maybe with Amelia, there would be a chance for one of the girls to have my eyes since Lillian’s were a complete match to Joe’s, but no. As soon as I saw Amelia open her eyes for the first time, I knew they were an exact match to Joe’s once again.
“She’s so pretty, mommy,” Lillian says in complete awe, completely entranced by her little sister. “You did a good job, mommy,” she further tells me, nodding enthusiastically. Her words make me laugh, all while Joe nods his head with her.
“She did, didn’t she?” He agrees with her, gently holding her a bit closer so she can get a better look. “You and your sister get all your looks from mommy, not daddy.”
“Oh hush,” I tell him, flashing him a grin as I shake my head. “Both the girls have your eyes, and there’s no denying that nose,” at my words, Joe looks between the girls as the smile on his face softens, seeing that my words are true. I don’t know how he hasn’t noticed that before.
“They’re simply beautiful,” Joe's mom speaks up, walking closer so she can see her brand new granddaughter. Her eyes glaze over with tears at the sight, looking between me and Joe before placing a hand on his shoulder. “You guys make such perfect babies,” she tells us, making my eyes glaze over with tears as well.
Leaning Lillian down to sit next to me on the hospital bed, Joe reminds her to be gentle, but she doesn’t need to be reminded. She won’t even move as soon her knees hit the mattress, and instead, she settles for gazing at her sister in awe once more. “Remember this moment,” I tell her, leaning down to kiss the wavy hair adorning her head. “Because when you two get older, you might not like each other.”
“I could never, mommy,” she promises, a smile remaining on her face.
“We’ll see when you’re teenagers,” Joe murmurs, giving me a smirk. Looking between him and the two girls, I can’t help but feel so content and happy with my situation. I’m so happy to have the love that I have from my family, and I love that the man I get to call mine loves me deeply too.
113 notes · View notes
twotitsjohndecaon · 2 years
Text
In Only Seven Days
In honor of our man John Richard Deacon being born on August the 19th 1951, I got a little somethin happy birthday king
Word Count: 9.1k
Warnings: drinking, language I think, lil bit of drama but lots of cutesy stuff, and sexy times again not too bad but 18+ nonetheless
Tumblr media
MONDAY
Interview Monday. Recording Tuesday. Clean the flat Wednesday. Record Thursday. Record Friday. Sit around and get nothing done in the studio Saturday. And then photoshoot and listen to Roger complain about his insipid “drum sound” Sunday. 
John was stuck in a draining cycle. Of course, there were exciting moments of respite like a party or or concert every once in a while, but those had grown few and far between as of late, and John couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone and gotten a drink, or Hell, even smiled beyond the flash of a false nicety to the studio’s secretary every morning, and that was just so he wouldn’t seem like a complete dick. 
It was a miserable, rainy, English Friday night when the sun had set unreasonably early and Brian’s whining about wanting more of a guitar solo had finally pushed John over the edge. The next morning he immediately looked for a flight in the phone book to the farthest place away possible, which seemingly just so happened to be the island of Bali. The cost was massive, but with buzzwords like “sun” and “far” John couldn’t find it in him to care. By Sunday evening, a suitcase was packed and a brief note was left on his bass guitar, leaving the others with not much beyond a simple “hasta la vista.”
And so, Monday, after a long but relaxing Freddie-less and Roger-lacking flight (with a touch of Brian-emptiness), and a simple taxi ride and check in to the resort (which he assumed was a result of the large sum he had thrown to some B-class travel agent) John felt something beautiful and serene: freedom, even if it was just for this one week. Eyes weighed heavy, body un-tensing upon a soft mattress, pillow chocolates tossed carelessly aside, and a balmy heat surrounding him, John finally allowed himself to relax.
***
You could hardly believe your luck. Every quarter, your work held a raffle for the employees where they gave away something nice to a winner chosen at random. Gift cards, a new TV set, and good department store discounts were the typical sort of prizes. But this time, the winnings were bigger. A weeks holiday for one at a resort in Bali. It was more expensive than the usual prizes, but you supposed since the holidays weren’t so far off it made sense that they’d bulk up the winnings. You hadn’t expected to win, really, you never had with any of the other items before. But here you were, one week later in Bali. You were quite happy. You didn’t know much about the island, but who were you to turn down a week of relaxation?  A week of beach, sun, drinks, and massages were of no complaint, and you were sure you’d leave satisfied by the end of it all. Everything between traveling and checking in had gone smoothly, as per arranged by your work, and after a nice dinner in the hotel you sunk into bed. The vacation really would be nice. It had been a stressful quarter; you deserved it. It was easy to fall asleep dreaming about an upcoming week of nothing.
TUESDAY
It was all really nice. Relaxing, just like you’d thought. After a wonderful breakfast and glorious morning in the spa, you decided to soak up some sun, a rarity in November, and headed down to the beach. The hotel had its own reserved section of the beach with canopies and chairs set up, but you decided to go the more bohemian route of laying on your towel in the sand. You closed your eyes, soaking up the rays, feeling recharged already. You weren’t sure how long you had been lying there for before you opened your eyes, blinking harshly at the light reflecting upon the water as your vision returned to normal. Once you could see you lazily took. In your surroundings. Then you noticed him. 
A man around your age, with perfect brown hair staring at you. Typically when men stared at you (especially older men and especially when you were in a bikini) it made you quite uncomfortable, a low predatory gaze directed your way, but this man’s eyes read the complete opposite, and there wasn’t any way you could know that except for that you just did. Maybe it was how his eyes weren’t raking over you like a possession, but rather like a fascination of a piece of art, how you’d look at the Mona Lisa. There wasn’t anything but genuine in his gaze, like he had known you fondly and forever. You couldn’t say you were reciprocating, maybe you were trying to, but you were a bit too transfixed. He was cute, handsome, and even if he had been looking your way in a more typically male fashion it wouldn’t have been an invitation you would have necessarily turned away. But it was more than that, and even though you could have sworn you had never seen this man in your life, he nearly could’ve convinced you that you had. The intensity, and unexpectedness of this moment had made you feel something, perhaps not a butterfly fluttering in your stomach, but maybe a chrysalis or a caterpillar at the very least. Then your eyes met, just for a second, and wanting to show that his gaze was welcome, you gave him a smile, a big one which flew onto your face on its own accord. He smiled back, a bit nervous but you could both understand that this was an uncommon but special moment for the both of you. 
But then, moment over. Somebody’s kid ran past screaming, kicking sand all over the place, covering your hair which you had really wanted to stay clean. The moment was broken, and you sighed, quickly dusting yourself off before standing and shaking off your towel. You planned to give the man another smile, one that silently commented on the situation, but you couldn’t see him any longer when you looked again. It was still very bright, so you shaded your eyes, scanning the promenade left to right, and right to left, but nothing. He was gone, almost like a sweet figment of your imagination. You sighed and walked back to your room to take a shower before dinner.
***
Silence was a gift. A glorious gift that John had bought for himself through this trip. It was everything he needed. And he found himself on the beach minutes after his late breakfast (more brunch— he deserved to sleep in). Ensuring he was properly sun protected (thanks to his pasty British winter complexion, he was susceptible to burning), he headed down for a full day at the beach. He would poke around the hotel later; he had plenty of time for that. As he reclined in one of the chairs which the resort had set out, he only heard the deep and true push and pull of waves, and the calming distant chatter of others. In and out of dozing, he had to have been there for hours when he felt a bit parched, and intended to get up for a drink, something fancy, he had in mind. But then he saw her.
She was the most beautiful woman to ever exist, there was no doubt about it. A short circuit shot and fired in his brain, and his senses turned to mush from no result of being in the sun too long. She simply strolled out closer to the water and laid out her towel, perfectly, and laid down. It was effortless and eternal, her existence seemingly solely to captivate John. The quiet that had overtaken him earlier which he so desperately wanted was gone, replaced by a million screams of disbelief and yearning.
He felt like he knew her, that they were meant to be and connected. That the universe had perfectly designed this moment just for him for something wonderful he must have done. If that were the case, he would thank the universe every day of his life from now on. All thoughts of getting a drink were gone as he was glued to his chair, but in an upright position, looking at her, probably quite obviously and maybe creepily. But he couldn’t move or do anything but admire.
This had never happened to him before. There were people John had been attracted to before from fleeting looks, sure, but never one with such a physical and visceral reaction. He didn’t know why either; it’s like everything that needed to work, every box that could possibly need to be checked off simply was and beyond. 
Then, she stood up, and somehow, looked at him. John froze further, somehow becoming liquid, frozen solid, and feeling light as air at the same time. She smiled. He smiled back, but not as good as hers was. 
Then the moment was over. Everything came crashing back, reality, sense, and social awareness, and he realized how big of a fool of himself he must have just made. Before the sand could clear and the most recent wave could be pulled back out to sea, John panicked and scurried away. He couldn’t spare a glance back. Breaking out into a sweat unrelated to the tropical heat, he quickly ran back to his room, where maybe he would just spend the rest of the trip now. 
But no, after a shower and cooling down and finally getting that drink (although he just ordered one to his room instead of going to the bar like he wanted) he came to his senses a bit.
Instant physical attraction, just a small crush, that’s all it was. This happened all the time to… everyone, really. John shook his head to himself, opening his balcony window to sit on the porch and enjoy the sunset with his drink. He was being silly. It was a bit strange he had such a reaction, but he had simply found a woman attractive. Nothing wrong with that. In fact, it had been a while for him. It was probably that, and a mixture of being tired from travel and the heat. He shouldn’t overthink it. This holiday was just for relaxing, so he closed his eyes once more, and that’s what he did.
WEDNESDAY
John somewhat shamefully admitted to himself by the end of the day that he had gone a bit out of his way to find her again. But no luck. He tried the beach, but she wasn’t there, but to be fair he went at a different time today than yesterday. Nothing in the restaurant, but maybe she ate dinner early, and nothing at the bar. And then the entire day had passed by and John realized how silly he had been searching for her all day instead of enjoying his vacation. So he booked a late night massage, ordered extra pillow chocolates to his room which he gorged upon while watching mindless TV, and then fell asleep. Relaxing like he wanted. But he couldn’t push the thought out of his head anymore once his head hit the pillow. He hoped that he would see her again, tomorrow, ever, he didn’t mind. He just needed to see her again, to confirm to himself that he had in fact just been acting silly and it was just a crush. That’s what he told himself. But really he knew deep down it’s because he needed to see her again. But that would have to wait for tomorrow.
***
Maybe he really had been a figment of your imagination. No luck at the beach, bar, or restaurant, or even in the spa, and you may have accidentally on purpose walked past the men’s pool changing room to peer in just in case (unfortunately for you that resulted in seeing way too much potential-naked-old-man). So you sighed and booked yourself a pedicure, which was soothing, and had your dinner, which was lovely, and headed down to the bar for a second time.
It wasn’t particularly crowded for a Wednesday evening, but you supposed that made sense. You had some nice drinks, mostly kept to yourself, talked to the bartender a bit, and then a nice man came up to you. He was attractive, and you’d normally entertain the both of you for at least a little bit before you decide to dive in or cut it off, but you didn’t even let it get that far this time.  He was nice and good looking, but he wasn’t that other man. It seemed ridiculous of you to turn down advances like you were already in a relationship, but something didn’t feel right. The moment on the beach the other day felt too unresolved to have anything else happen with, well, anyone. So you gave stiff answers and turned away quickly from the man, and he got the message and wandered off. You finished your drinks and headed back to your room. Where was he? And why did you want to see him so badly again? You couldn’t answer, though, as your eyes grew heavy from all of the thinking, all of the running around looking for him, and from the tinge of alcohol coursing through your system. 
THURSDAY
Another day of relaxation, or at least an attempt to. The encounter with the man still pervaded your thoughts, although maybe a little less as time went on. Good. Probably. No use dwelling over it. You thought to yourself in the morning why this was sticking with you so much. Maybe it was just the intensity. No one had ever looked at you so thoroughly before, and it made you feel hungry to be understood. It was a particular glance, something you’d remember fondly and mention to your friends a bit off hand and more casually than what was actually warranted. You’d leave out the part about obsessing over it for days, or maybe you’d add that in to the anecdote humorously, because classic Y/N, always creating an extreme romance-Disney-Princess-love-at-first-sight scenario in your head. 
Or maybe you wouldn’t mention it, because it still felt too big and special to comprehend. You really couldn’t process why this was on your mind so harshly. You tried to put it aside a bit, still there in the back of your nagging conscious, but not at the forefront, which would have to do. 
Since this was on your mind on some level, however, it made you too present to completely space out and mindlessly enjoy the pampering, so you were all too aware of the monotony of your vacation routine. 
Not like there was much else to do. So you sucked it up and did the same stuff as you did the day before and before, and it was fine, and then you found yourself in the bar again, a mid-level conversation in with the bartender, and a few drinks down, enough for a bit of a buzz but nothing where you weren’t completely aware of your surroundings. The conversation died down with the bartender after a few more people came in and he had to take their orders, leaving you stirring your drink. You sighed, looking to see who had come in, and saw no one special. A middle aged couple, an elderly couple, another middle aged couple… there was certainly a type that the resort attracted. And it seemed like no one was there alone besides you either. Well, besides one other. But maybe he—, no, probably— he had a girlfriend too, she was just out of sight for the moment. Maybe you had confused the entire situation and were an idiot. You stirred your drink again. Took a sip. Looked up again. And there, right in front of you, he was.
***
John stupidly (he assumed) spent his entire day looking for you again while disguising it as taking part in a normal vacation. He didn’t look very much harder, or very well he suspected, as he simply checked the same spots (though he was on time for the beach today) and had no luck. Spa, beach, restaurant, beach, lobby, beach, nothing, until he called it quits and decided to finally get that drink at the bar he had been holding off since Tuesday. He freshened himself up a bit, making himself for presentable for the venue, and made his way down, giving up a little bit in his mind at finding you, which was deeply disappointing but a bit comforting as it was a load off of his mind. 
But then everything was rushing back. He walked in, and saw you there, stirring your drink so brilliantly, and every seemingly ridiculous little desperation that had plagued him about you for the past couple of days came rushing back to him. 
You sat in a perfect, casual yet formal warm weather dress, stirring what looked to be some extravagant fruit cocktail, looking a bit bored, definitely alone and with no one else. You couldn’t possibly be in a relationship if you were at the bar like this, right? John collected his mind the best that he could (physically however he was still stuck gaping in the entryway like an idiot). This was his chance. He normally wasn’t so forward. The girls after concerts usually came up to him and the others themselves, he never really had to make the initial approach. But it was for this reason with you standing all alone so perfectly that he decided to go for it, because if the way he had been kicking himself for running away for the past day and a half was a preview to how the rest of his life would be if he had never given it a chance, he was in for a long and painful ride. Finally collecting himself physically as well (luckily you hadn’t seemed to have seen him) he made his way over to you. He walked right up to you, up to your field of vision, and then you looked at each other again. It was the same as before, more so and better up close. At least it confirmed to him that he had made the correct decision in obsessing over you, that it wasn’t a complete loss, because he could see better now that you were definitely worth obsessing over. John had made a critical mistake however. He forgot to think of something to say to you once he got up here. Or anything at all.
***
You could see that he was having a hard time, that he was nervous, but you found it endearing that he could be so sheepish, and not just to be nice in social politics. You were very glad to see him again. While his problem seemed to be that he was (hopefully) so excited that he couldn’t say anything, yours was the opposite. Seeing him again made you giddy, like you could gab on for hours about how you felt, or maybe just giggle about it to yourself in amazement. But you decided to help him out.
“Hi,” you said softly, thinking that was a good place to start. The man gulped. You seemed to have successfully snapped him out of his stupor for the time being. He smiled, embarrassed, but it was so lovely. His cheeks rosed.
“Hi…” he drifted off, then realizing he was being an idiot again, “Sorry, I— I think I saw you at the beach the other day,” he said in a whimsy tone, struck by so much of you. 
You nodded. “I think I saw you too. I’m Y/N.”
Y/N. It was the most beautiful name he had ever heard, an antidote in verbal form to any ailment he’d ever had. John didn’t believe in God necessarily but he believed there could be one now with that name, it was too divine otherwise. He was staring again.
“Would you like to sit down?” you asked, nodding your head to the empty seat he was near. 
“If you wouldn’t mind,” he smiled, but this time really smiled, and you were beyond delighted when you saw the adorable gap between his front teeth. “What are you having?” 
“Just a spritz.”
“Oh, those are good.”
“Are you gonna get something?” you asked with a teasing smile, catching him become distracted again. 
“Oh! Yes.” He ordered a Pilsner. Each of you took a sip contentedly. The silence wasn’t awkward, though it persisted, it felt necessary to drink everything in, quite literally.
“What’s your name?” you asked.
“Oh, sorry, John. It’s John,” he said, cursing himself for being so starstruck in a sense. You sipped again. He gulped. “This… may sound strange, but I feel like I’ve met you before, even though I’m almost sure I haven’t.” He paused. “Sorry. That’s silly.” You put your hand on his arm, and his skin burned wonderfully at the contact. 
“No. I didn’t know how to bring it up, but I feel the same way,” you nodded.
“That’s part of why I was looking at you the other day. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to.”
“No, you didn’t at all.”
“Good,” you both smiled, and sipped again, feet pointed towards each other in clear direct interest. “What brings you to Bali?” he asked. You stirred your drink and smiled excitedly. 
“I won a week here from a raffle my company does. I didn’t expect to win! It was such a nice surprise. It’s been so nice too.”
“Isn’t it? It’s gorgeous here.”
“What brings you here then? All the way from… Leicestershire?” you said, trying to place his accent. John chuckled. 
“Good ear. But I live in London now. And I’m escaping from the hooligans I have to unfortunately live and work with.” He said. You chuckled. 
“Hooligans, hm? You’ll have to tell me more,” you prompted. John continued to tell you all about his band, the other boys, and all of the antics they got up to in their youth, and still today really. You thought it was charming how John took charge of his life and set his boundary when things got too intense at work, and took a trip to Bali. That, and you were grateful to be around him in general. You also graciously learned that the both of you were single, due to some stars aligning in the universe. The two of you hit it off, and talked nonstop. You had never felt such ease of conversation between someone. Lots of times in your life you didn’t know how to continue a person, like you couldn’t read or relate to people and the conversation would fizzle out, even if you enjoyed it, racking your brain for something more, but that never happened with John, or at least so far. He always managed to keep you engaged and excited to talk to him, and in the ways you least expected but was most pleased with. You felt alight and recharged for anything, really, once the bartender alerted you that the bar was soon closing for the night, and you realized you were just about the only two left. It had been like time stood still when you were with John. You turned back to him from the bartender after they’d warned you. You two were silent for a moment. 
“What was the other part?” you enquired. 
“Other part?”
“Earlier. You said when you were looking at me the other day, part of it was because you felt like you knew me. What was the other part?” John took a deep breath in. You could tell he was nervous, and grabbed his hand that was nearest to you and gave it a squeeze. That, and maybe the alcohol was making you a bit more willing to be more touchy with John. 
“Because I’d never seen someone so beautiful before in my life,” he sighed, looking deep into your eyes, seeing you truly, uncensored. 
“John…” you sighed happily. Usually you’d think this was some sort of trick to get you in bed, but you could tell, you just knew John meant it. And he was talking about the inside, too, and you felt so whole.
“I know, it’s cheesy, but I… can’t describe it. It just is. You just are.” You grabbed his other hand. 
“I believe you John. And I think the same thing,” you said, fluttering your eyelashes a bit as you looked down at your hands. He squeezed them and your eyes met again. 
The bartender gave the two of you a pleading look, and taking pity on him, understanding he wanted to finish his long day, you both glanced towards the door. You hopped off the stool and started to shuffle reluctantly towards the door with John by your side. Once you had exited the bar, standing outside the glass doors, the beautiful manicured garden of the resort behind you, the only sound coming from the trickling fountain put in as an outdoor centerpiece and the ocean softly in the distance, a sigh, a constant pushing of everything together. The only light a few small outside lamps no more than a minimal illumination for the footpath, and the moon shining down, as the lights to the bar shut off. John faced you and took your hands, everything shining in each other’s eyes. Your palms were held high as your fingers interwove.
“Can I see you again tomorrow?” John breathed, whispered. You nodded fervently. 
“Of course. I have all day.” John looked at you intensely and kissed the back of one of your hands.
“Meet for breakfast? At the buffet?” he asked.
“Perfect,” you smiled. You managed to tear away for a moment, and parted in opposite directions to your own rooms. You didn’t need to look back, and neither did he, because you knew you’d see each other again.
FRIDAY
You met John right on time, and maybe you’d woken up a bit earlier to make sure you looked extra nice for breakfast. When you saw him, large smiles flew onto both of your faces and you walked directly to him, everything looking clean, fresh, bright, and wonderful in the morning sunlight. He was even more adorable with his slightly pillow-ruffled hair and wide awake eyes. 
“Good morning,” you said, giggling a little, and you didn’t even know why. 
“Morning,” John said happily back, also giggling a bit, just excited to see you again. “Sleep well?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Amazing,” John smiled. “Shall we eat?” he said, gesturing to the food. You nodded. John handed you a plate and you each loaded up on the complimentary continental breakfast that was included for staying at the resort. You both sat down at a table with a fantastic beach view. You both seemed to take it in for a moment before turning to your food, and then each other. Neither of you could stop smiling. 
“The weather’s been so nice here,” you said.
“Yeah, we really lucked out. I heard it rains quite often. Just like jolly ol’ England,” said John. You chuckled and agreed. “I feel I was a bit selfish last night. I only spoke about me,” he said, eyebrows furrowing for a moment.
“No! I enjoyed it. You’re fascinating, John!” you chuckled. He blushed at the compliment. 
“But I do want to know more about you. Tell me about this job you work at, where you win trips to Bali.”
“You make it sound like I do this all the time,” you laughed again. You proceeded to tell him about your career, your studies to get you there, and just how passionate you were about the subject and lucky you felt to be working somewhere you loved. John loved seeing you light up about the things you were ardent about. “But I really do enjoy it. I could only dream about such a thing when I was a kid,” you finished, also taking the last bite of your food. “Look at me, now I’ve been the one talking all about myself,” you smiled sheepishly. 
“Not at all. To quote someone I know, you’re fascinating,” he smiled. It was your turn to blush now. John took the final sip of the glass of milk he had gotten for himself. He stood up and cleared your plate without asking, ever the gentleman. You stood up to thank him.
“I’m sure I’ll gain a few pounds from these daily high sugar breakfast pancakes by the end of this trip,” he commented. You smiled at his quip. He began to say something else, but before he could you spoke over him. 
“Would you like to come to the beach with me?” You said quickly, and then composing yourself a little and blushing at your eagerness. “I mean— I was going to spend most of the day lazing around there. Might take a dip. Only if you’re not busy,” you said softly. John beamed at how adorable you were. You could’ve then sworn your heart stopped when he suddenly brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. 
“I’d love to,” he said. 
You both agreed to change and then meet back at the private beach entrance in a few minutes. You met, and John looked perfectly handsome, all tan from the former days of sun, and John used all of his willpower to compose himself around you in your bikini, trying not to stare. You chuckled, noticing, but took his hand before he could feel bad about it (because it wasn’t unwelcome in the slightest) and led him towards the sand, towards two chairs that had been set up in front of an umbrella. After coating yourself in copious amounts of sunscreen and scolding John for not putting on enough (“John, it isn’t safe!”) and laughing again when he then smeared an exaggerated amount of lotion on his nose like a lifeguard before rubbing it in, the two of you settled down and talked more. The conversation eventually died out naturally and both of you soaked in the rays peacefully, and soaked in each other’s presence, each which had a glorious contented effect on the other. You were so relaxed, more so than any spa treatment or nap had made you feel in the days prior. You were so relaxed in fact, that you didn’t notice John had been gone until you sensed the light shift over your eyes, shading them further. You opened them, blinking to the sudden light, to see John smiling over you and holding out two ice creams, one for each of you. You gasped excitedly and took one, thanking him as you began to eat the delicious treat. 
“How’d you know chocolate was my favorite?” you asked. 
“Lucky guess,” he smiled. The two of you finished quickly, laughing as you each attempted to catch the drips before it made a mess, the ice cream melting fast in the sun. You both inevitably ended up, however, with sticky hands, and a few drops on your stomachs and legs, the heat too much for the frozen treat. You looked to each other and laughed at your states. 
“Come on, let’s clean off,” you said, nodding towards the water. John began to stand up. “Race you?” you said, and took off before John could realize what you had said. But momentarily, you heard him scoff and accuse you of cheating, and then sand being kicked behind you. You squealed as the cool water reached your toes, and then even more so when John suddenly grabbed your waist and pushed the both of you further into the water. Both of you fell softly as the waves caught any impact you might have had, soaking you both, but you couldn’t seem to care as you both attempted to stand, hard to do with all of the laughter. 
“I won,” said John, catching his breath. 
“I wouldn’t necessarily call that winning,” you smiled. John retaliated by splashing a bit of water back at you, and you did so back. Before it got too ugly your breath hitched as John once again put a hand on your waist like he had moments before. He brushed now a wet strand of your hair behind your ear once more, and you placed a hand on his forearm. You both saw into each other’s eyes, understanding how special you were to each other in this moment. You each turned to the horizon, watching the sun glitter off of the waves as it began to descend into a gilded set. You both stood and watched for a few minutes, and you gasped excitedly as the sun gave off an emerald flash as it bent under the water’s horizon. 
“That was so beautiful,” you whispered. 
“It was,” said John, but he was looking more at you than anything else. You turned to him. “Meet me for dinner. Let’s clean up and meet for dinner,” he said. You nodded excitedly. You walked back to your rooms once more and agreed to meet at the reception area in an hour. 
After a shower, singing to yourself happily the entire time, you decided on what to wear. You decided on a black sundress that you had brought, one you had meant to pass as casual but could definitely be more formal. It’s why you had bought it in the first place a while ago, it was good for switching from day to night when you didn’t have time to properly change. By some alignment of the stars, you had packed it with you. You gave yourself the best blowout you could with the small hairdryer included in your room’s amenities and touched your makeup up a bit before heading to the hotel’s reception. He was already there when you arrived. His eyes found yours and widened, taking in your form. 
“Y/N…” he trailed off. “you look beautiful,” he said in a daze.
“Back at you,” you giggled, making John blush. He really did look extremely handsome. He also seemed to not have packed anything particularly formal, but looked incredible in some flares and a button down, which revealed his tanned chest underneath. “Shall we?” he asked. You nodded, and looped your arm into his. 
You arrived to the restaurant, mutually deciding to try something outside of the resort for the first time all week for each of you, and decided on a nice looking place nearby. It was still relatively tourist-y, so there were still English menus, but it felt nice to get out. You each ordered drinks, a nice meat entree each, and shared a chocolate cake for desert as the conversation flowed easily between you two throughout the night. You felt like you were soaring around John, and he felt enlightened by you. Each of you felt like there was a motivational reason to wake up in the morning for each other. John, ever the gentleman, insisted on paying for the meal (though you forced him to let you pay for the drinks at least) and you were soon walking hand in hand through the quiet, dimly lit streets through the night. John additionally insisted on walking you to your room, and you were sure you’d never smiled so much by the time you’d arrived in front of your door. The conversation halted naturally as you turned around to face him, your hands still firmly in his. His breath hitched, and he felt choked nearly as you looked at him, your gazes so intense. 
“I had the loveliest evening John,” you whispered. 
“Me too.” He brought one of your hand up and gave it a kiss, and your heart just about melted. You couldn’t help but move closer to him a bit. 
“Not just the dinner. The whole day has been amazing. One of the best I’ve ever had,” you started. He nodded firmly. “I know that seems strange to say. But it’s true.”
“Me too. I feel the same way. It feels a bit ridiculous to say, since I’ve only known you for so shortly, but everything feels so… right. And I hope you don’t think I’m too forward to say such a thing,” he confessed. He had confessed more than just his appreciation of the day in his speech, and you both knew it; it didn’t have to be said directly. John would normally never be this forward. He could be very blunt at times, but not in anything more genuine than annoyance at Brian. And the petty side of him typically made everyone around him figure everything out. He was usually the type sit back and watch, to laugh at the inevitable he could seemingly predict, but none of that seemed right here. All John could feel was genuine and good, and it was so overwhelming he had to say it out loud, in very plain terms. Never had he felt something so physical, so emotional. The two of you were simply understood and all of yourselves. You moved closer to each other. “Not at all. I’ve never felt so right in my life,” you finished. You moved even closer and your arms slid from John’s hand up to his arms, and then his shoulders. With a final look into each other’s eyes, John grabbed your face gently and pulled your lips to his. It was the sweetest kiss, the sweetest touch either of you had ever felt. His hands fell to your waist and you fell into each other further. Only when you couldn’t breath any more did either of you pull away. You smiled at each other, breathing in each other’s scents so close, and continued to hold each other. John once again brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, and you immediately did the same to him, causing both of you to fall into a fit of giggles before you quieted each other in another kiss. 
“See you tomorrow?” John asked hopefully as you pulled away again. 
“Definitely,” you said, giving him a final peck before unlocking your room and giving him a smile as you closed the door. 
You flopped down, extremely contented on your soft bed. You didn’t even bother to shower, do your skin care routine, change, or brush your teeth as you immediately fell into a wonderful slumber. You just couldn’t. You were too exhausted (in a good way) to move, and you wanted just some semblance of you to keep the night forever. 
John had a little more of his wits as he managed to get ready for bed, but he also flopped quickly into the white, fluffy sheets. His mind was racing more nonstop. He kept trying to convince himself, that he must be crazy, There’s no way this could be happening to him. He hand only seen you a matter of days ago, let alone talked to you for less, and John struggled to convince himself he didn’t have feelings for you. He kept trying to find a reason that this was insane, absolutely crazy, but he simply couldn’t convince himself of that. He didn’t believe such a thing, because everything simply was so perfect with you. Outsiders would call him crazy, stupid, and he’d always wondered how some people got married after a matter of weeks of dating and had lasting relationships, but now he seemed to understand it more. He only had ever heard such stories in hushed tones about family gossip for some sort of distant uncle, and everyone had thought they were crazy, or the local storekeeper had done the same thing, and John had agreed that love at first sight was a type of insanity, and laughed at the thought. But none of it was funny now. It was all so beautiful, and he could really truly feel it. 
John turned around in bed happily, and took a quick glance at the alarm clock near his bed. It had just turned midnight. Saturday. One day left.
SATURDAY
When John woke up, he was even more in a panic. All of the contentedness gone. He had only just begun to realize it last night, but it was truly setting in now. Just one day. 24 hours. Before he had to leave Bali, head back to England, into the miserable November weather and rain, and his insipid bandmates. One day until he had to leave you. How could he possibly do such a thing? He couldn’t imagine living a second without a promise of you. He felt sick, genuinely ill as he laid in bed, but again, the promise of you was the only thing to get him out. He felt shaky, in a blind panic, and couldn’t even eat as he made his way out for the day. This was probably silly as well, but John couldn’t help it. Did you know? Did you even realize that he was leaving so soon? How could you be alright with it? John couldn’t stand it. 
The truth is, you had realized it. You didn’t know when John was leaving necessarily, but as for you it was tomorrow afternoon. But you had not panicked. You couldn’t, because you couldn’t bear to think of it at all. The second the thought had come into your mind, you shut it down, put it away. And besides, you weren’t going to let this poison your last day with John. This day was to be enjoyed. 
It occurred to John only after he had left his room the two of you hadn’t agreed on a particular time or place to meet, and that sent his panic spiraling further for a moment, thinking back to how he’d looked for you a few days before to no avail. But it didn’t last long, as he soon found you by the pool, sitting in the already hot sun of the late morning. You had your eyes closed, not noticing John come up to you. 
“Mind if I sit?” He smiled. You blinked open and smiled as John took a seat on the lounger next to you and sat up. He wasn’t worried anymore. His day was better now. 
“Not at all,” you smiled, closing your eyes again. John relaxed and closed his eyes as well. “Sleep well?”
“Very,” he said.
“You’re a bit overdressed for the pool,” you pointed out, referring to his jeans and t-shirt. 
“Maybe you’re a bit underdressed for the rest of the day,” he jested. You sat up further and looked at him. 
“Oh yeah? And what’s happening for the rest of the day?” you asked. 
“Lunch?” He offered. You nodded gratefully and moved to stand up, but gasped excitedly before you did. 
“What?” he asked.
“I know just the place!” you said, pulling on a flowy sundress you had brought out with you over your bathing suit (one that made John’s heart race quite a bit). You slipped on your shoes and took his hand. “Picnic?” you offered. John smiled. 
“Good plan.” The two of you made your way out of the resort, into a local shop, and bought yourselves some terrible little sandwiches and fruit, along with a couple of sodas, and insisted on paying yourself this time (“You bought me food last night!”) as John grabbed the plastic bag. 
“Shall we eat on the beach?” he suggested, following you along, amused at how adorable you were, seemingly set out on a mission. The light in your eyes was contagious and filled his. You shook your head. 
“I know some place better,” you said, grabbing his hand once more and leading him away.
***
“Wow,” you whispered to yourself as you reached the peak of the hill you had just trekked up. You turned around to look for John, only to find him nowhere to be found. “John?” you quickly looked back down the hill to see him huffing and puffing as he reached the top near you. He smiled when he saw you, despite being out of breath.
“How long’s this hiking trail again?” he breathed harshly. You giggled.
“We can stop here,” you said taking pity on him. “Look, it’s beautiful.”
“Incredible,” John said, eyes widening as he took in the truly magnificent view. He had to admit, he’d been skeptical about a hike in the Bali heat (especially when it was due to rain) but it had made you so happy, and it really was an amazing sight. It was all worth it. The air was so fresh.
“Shall we sit?” you said, snapping John out of his mild stupor. John nodded, and the two of you fell upon the grass and opened the lunch you had bought, talking, taking in the sights, and each other.
“Sorry for dragging you all the way up here,” you commented as you folded your napkin away and threw it in to the plastic bag to dispose of later. John shook his head.
“I couldn’t imagine a better lunch,” John said. 
“What if there was a lift that took us straight up without the walking?” You laughed. John chuckled.
“Well, yes, then it would have been slightly better. But I don’t regret a thing,” said John, grabbing your hand and pulling you into a short kiss. You smiled into it. Every time you kissed, it felt like you were breathing properly for the first time, feeling so refreshed and enlivened, more than ever before.
*** 
After descending the hill and parting shortly to change out of your grass-stained clothes, you each met for dinner once more. It was lovely, incredible again in every way to be with you, but John felt an impending sense of doom. He became increasingly aware of the ticking time bomb, the hours, minutes, seconds, reducing too fast until he had to go back home, and there was nothing he could do. He felt so helpless, and didn’t know if you knew or felt the same, or if you were even aware at all. It was all he could do to hold your hand tight as you walked back to your room once more that night and turned to each other once more, just as you had before. You somehow were more beautiful now. John pulled you close without hesitation this time, and connected his lips to yours. You melted against him, in the best way. You felt his somberness in this moment, the same doom you had been holding off on all day. It seemed so real now, him in your arms, not knowing the next time it would be, or if there was a next time. All you had was him, fleeting, right now. Tears pricked your eyes as you stared deeply into his.
“John…” you started, choking up before you could even begin. 
“I know,” he said, completely understanding, pulling you close. You fell into his shoulder, only knowing his sweet smell and gentle touch. John felt terrible seeing you upset, but partly relieved you had some semblance of your imminent parting. That way he wouldn’t have to spring it on you. God, how could he possibly tell you? Say such a thing? He could only hold you tight and kiss you again, using his thumbs to wipe at your glistening eyes, shushing you comfortingly. 
“Can you come in?” you said smally, and John could have deceased right there. 
“Of course.” He followed you in your room, the door closing softly, and the lights remaining low, the push and pull of the waves lightly in the ambience. The two of you held each other close, barely able to accept the majesty of each other. You brought John to your lips, and never disconnected. Gently, you unbuttoned his shirt and felt all along him, and all of it was perfect. John slid the straps of your dress down before reaching for the zipper in the back before lightly caressing your soft hair. John shrugged off his shirt, and your dress pooled to the floor, and you reached to unbutton his trousers. You walked back towards the bed and fell into the soft, soft sheets, and laid back against the middle, John always following, both of you only in your underpants now. John had never seen a sight so beautiful as all of you. Your lips were warm and sweet against each other’s as the final pieces of clothing were removed. John thrust in, and your eyes connected, never leaving, outpouring pure affection. It felt so good, so perfect, all of it, and he gently held your face. The speed picked up, but with grace and subtly as you both soon reached your highs, never leaving each other’s gaze. John, still inside you, fell slightly on top of you as you grabbed on to his back tightly, melding yourselves to each other forever, shaking and breathing together, synchronized almost. John kissed you hard, and you tried your best to give every feeling you had in reciprocation. Finally, John pulled out and flipped you over, pulling you into his chest, and you’d never felt safer or more content. 
“I love you,” he said, admitted to himself and professed to you. You fell into his eyes. 
“I love you too,” you said, as you both drifted off perfectly.
SUNDAY
John glanced over, tired, exhausted to see that the clock read 5:45. Just in time to make his morning flight. You were bundled up so peacefully in his arms. The sun barely graced the sky, it being only a tinge lighter than night. John took you in. How soft you fit into him. How mesmerizing your scent was. How gorgeous you looked. How wonderful your deep breaths sounded in your peaceful sleep. He couldn’t possibly wake you up, not like this. John knew if he were to leave you, which he must, despite it feeling impossible, he must do so now. He moved slowly at first, not wanting to wake you, but as soon as he sat up, you stirred, turning over and reaching for John. 
“Whe’r’r you going?” you mumbled sleepy. John’s heart melted. He rolled back over to you, sitting up against the pillows and holding you close.
“My flight’s soon,” he whispered. 
“Hm?”
“I… I have to go, sweetheart.” That woke you up. You figured to had to as well, but your flight wasn’t until later. He couldn’t leave now, he just couldn’t. This wasn’t supposed to happen, none of it was, finding him, loving him, leaving him. You sat up, looking at him, fighting back tears. You wanted to yell at him, make him stop at all costs. But you couldn’t do that. He wanted you to beg him to stay just as much, because he would. But you couldn’t do that. So instead, you began to cry and held you close, and he did the same. You sniffled.
“I can’t believe this has happened. That I love you. And I love you so much,” you cried.
“I love you too, darling. I never thought this could happen.” You cried together for what seemed like an eternity. You were torn away, bound by moral and social discrepancies, and watched as he pulled his clothes back on, and held you close, giving you the deepest kiss either of you had ever felt. He didn’t say anything as he closed the door. There’s nothing he could say, that either of you could. 
And so, that morning, and you later that day, John went back home alone, as he had started.
ONE WEEK LATER
You had tried to get him out of your mind, you thought that you’d snap back into your senses or your normal life, but you couldn’t you must be sick, and your friends and coworkers all noticed that you hadn’t been the same. They’d expected a bubbly you, refreshed from a week of relaxation, but was met with a you which could barely function. You cried seemingly all the time, nothing was right without him, the world was strange and confusing. This couldn’t go on. 
***
John was absolutely miserable. Dodging the nosy questions from his band mates, his week of getting away from them made them more annoying upon his return, him more irritable, so much so that the others forced him home early after one recording, not wanting to be around him. He was consumed by this, nothing was alright, everything had changed and nothing at all, and nobody seemed to care or do anything about it. How could they? Nothing was the same and everything was wrong. After endless pestering, John broke, and spilled all (after a couple of drinks as well) and fell apart. His friends were annoyingly understanding, not even bothering to tease him. Roger, usually with an innuendo at the go, and Brian with his endless la-dee-da prose, and Freddie, the self proclaimed love expert (“You’ve only been in about two relationships, Fred,”) could even sense John’s despair that this was something deeper, nothing to joke about. And while John hated to admit it, it was them who encouraged him one day. He had to find you. They nearly shoved a phonebook into his hands as he began to scour.
But it wasn’t long. Because you had come to your senses just a bit before John, and he wasn’t too hard to find. The receptionist at the terrible little miserable studio informed John he had a guest. Coming out into the lobby, just holding back the others like a pair of rabid chihuahuas wanting to see who you were, there you were.
And you grabbed each other close. And you were together again. John cried.
“Never. Never again,” said John, kissing your hair and breathing you in once more.
“Is this crazy?” you asked for being so hung up on him.
“Yes. But I don’t care. And I’m never leaving you, ever,” he said, your lips falling together.
It was crazy. It was absolutely insane that you managed to find each other over and over again, but none of it was complicated. It was only simple, nothing purer than true love. And you never let go of each other.
ONE YEAR LATER
You giggled as John carried you over the threshold. Everything about the day, about the wedding had been perfect, and you melted into him. But John had been keeping something for you, and you had to know, you had a right as his wife.
“Mr. Deacon, will you ever tell me where we’ll be going on our honeymoon?” you asked. When you suggested different destinations in the wedding planning stage, John shot all of them down, promising he’d work it all out. As you were apparently leaving tomorrow, you had to know. John, barely tearing himself apart from your lips, hummed, and reached into his coat pocket.
“How does Bali sound?” He laughed handing you the plane tickets.
“I had a suspicion,” you smirked. 
“I am very mischievous,” he contended. You kissed once more. “You wanna go, or not?” he teased.
“Only if you come back with me.”
“Well, good thing I bought roundtrip tickets. You’re stuck with me, before, during, and after.”
“Good,” you smiled. And you always had each other, always now.
94 notes · View notes