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spreadyovrwings · 21 days

Text

64 Oslo Square

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

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

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

Chapter Ten

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“4531?”

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

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

“Er… Back.”

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

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

“Nah, I never really revise for anything.”

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

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

“What, because you-”

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

“Kinda wanna hit you a bit more now.”

“Just come to the window.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good afternoon, Skip!”

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

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

John smiled sheepishly.

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

“You’re not goin’?”

“Where?”

You laughed.

“To the disco!”

“Oh, right.”

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

“I know where I’d rather be.”

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

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

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

John grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds fine to me.”

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

“Nice clothes.”

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled.

“I’d love that.”

“Yeah? Really?”

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

“Go on, you be’er get started.”

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

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

“Tea?”

“Please.”

“Have you had lunch?”

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

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

When he didn’t respond, you frowned.

“John?”

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

“Johnny? You alright?”

He still didn’t seem to hear you.

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

“Er, Skip?”

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

“Did you know he was coming over today?”

Bewildered, you went to join him at the window.

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t believe he’d-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Actually, she does.”

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

Beside you, John tensed.

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

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

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

“Well, I came to see my best girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled wolfishly at Gladys.

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

The bakery door swished open with a bright chime.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that twat doing ‘ere?”

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

“Gladys, what did ‘e say to you?”

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

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

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

“Next… Next week?”

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

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

You looked back at Mickey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gladys took it gratefully.

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

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

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

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

You exhaled sharply, taken-aback.

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

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

You nodded.

“At the end of the month.”

“You never told me.”

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

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

You frowned, glancing at Mickey for help.

“Was it?”

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

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

You have a hollow laugh, hardly listening now.

“It’s fine, Gladys. Don’ worry.”

But John frowned

“What was?”

Gladys looked up.

“Hm?”

“What was the surprise?”

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

“Henry?”

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

“Really?”

“Well, not legally, I s’pose.”

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

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

“You added…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that the contract you signed with Alastair?”

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

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

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

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

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

“She could always move in with you.”

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

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

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

“I don’t even have a flat!”

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

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

“Walls ‘ave ears.”

“You two, I swear to-”

“He doesn’t have it.”

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

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

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

Finally, John raised his head.

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

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

“Worthless,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you beauty!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was yours. 64 Oslo Square was yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Easy, honey…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dancin’.”

Master List

#john deacon #queen #john deacon x reader #queen fic #john deacon reader

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magickcandie · 3 months

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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?”

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."

#john deacon x reader #queen band #brian may #freddie mercury #roger taylor #request #ask #female reader

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psychedeliagroove · 2 years

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I’m having a Bob Dylan phase

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twotitsjohndecaon · 8 months

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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 :)

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.

#john deacon #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #queen #my writing

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pebblewritesj · 2 years

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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.

#john deacon x reader #john deacon hc #john deacon imagines #queen x reader #queen fic #freddie mercury x reader #roger taylor x reader #brian may x reader

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lady-maracas · 1 year

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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.

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”

#queen #queen band #john deacon #john deacon x reader #someone help

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royalty-fics · 2 years

Text

Accomplishment

pairing/s: john deacon x reader

summary: john deacon teaching you music theory on the bass and you get excited over learning the major chord

warning/s: fluff

masterlist

"So, you have semi-tones and tones, right?" John reminded you, as you nod and demonstrate a few notes on your bass. He smiled brightly at you. "So, there's a pattern to be followed. Tone, tone, semi, tone, tone, semi."

The brunet showed you with his bass, but his long fingers were too fast for you to catch up. You pressed your lips together and widened your eyes, dramatically expressing your confusion. John giggled cutely and did it again, but this time a bit slower.

You saw his fingers pressing the third fret, the fifth, sixth, eigth, tenth, twelfth.... on the A string. Honestly, even if it was slow, you were still distracted by how John's fingers were more beautiful than your own face. It was a miracle that you even learned anything from him.

"Another, and much easier way, is to do this." He showed you how to start C major, and thankfully, you had gotten the hang of it. He cheers you on as you slowly move- crack is a more fitting term- your fingers into the rightful places. "That's it! I'm proud of you, love!"

You grinned widely and set down your bass to hug him. John let out a loud 'oof' when you almost toppled both of you over the couch.

"Holy shit, I did it!" You pulled away from him, your hands lingering on his shoulders for a moment, before picking your bass back up. You slowly did the major again, your smile slowly growing as your hands started to familiarize itself with the routine.

When you looked up at John, he was staring at you with his green-gray eyes so intensely that you paused from playing. He leaned toward you, your faces so close, you could feel his breath tickle your cheeks.

"Can I kiss you?" John asked you shyly, his voice gone soft. Not trusting your voice, you nod and met his lips with yours.

It was soft, gentle, and everything you expected from Deaky. It was perfect.

When you both pulled away, you gazed at John with a deep affection for him. He brought up his lovely hand to cup your cheek, and you leaned your head against it.

"I've been meaning to do that for a while now," He said, voice still quiet, eyes focused on your lips.

"Well, why didn't you?" You asked him, your own voice equally quiet to not break the atmosphere surrounding you both. John let out a shaky breath and giggled.

"I honestly don't know, but I'm glad I did now." He leaned in once more to kiss you softly.

If bass lessons were like this with John all the time, then you would sign up for free.

#john deacon x reader #john deacon #queen #queen band #queen fanfiction #queen imagine

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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.

#queen #john deacon #john deacon x reader

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johnlennonswifey · 9 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.

#the beatles #the beatles x reader #the beatles imagine #the monkees #queen #ringo starr x reader #george harrison x reader #paul mccartney x reader #john lennon x reader #davy jones #peter tork #micky dolenz #mike nesmith #the Monkees x Reader #john deacon x reader

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 months

Text

72 Hours In Montreal

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! 💜

#john deacon fic #john deacon x reader #queen fic

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spreadyovrwings · 3 months

Text

64 Oslo Square

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

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

Warnings for this chapter: 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.

Chapter Nine

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

#john deacon #queen #john deacon x reader #john deacon reader #john deacon fic #queen fic #john deacon x you

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magickcandie · 5 months

Text

Sneaky Deaky

Joe!John Deacon x Fem!Reader

(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.

#john deacon #john deacon x reader #fem reader #bohrap boys #bohemian rhapsody #ask

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michelle-is-writing · 2 years

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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?

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.

#joe mazzello #Joe mazzello x reader #Joe mazzello imagine #Joe mazzello imagines #Joe mazzello x fem!reader #john deacon #John deacon x reader #john deaky #queen x reader #queen imagine

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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

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.

#john deacon #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #queen #my writing

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