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#queen imagine
michelle-is-writing · 2 years
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Delicate, Roger Taylor
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Word Count: 900~
Everyone knows Roger is a constant complainer. Not to mention one of his favorite hobbies is bickering with his bandmates. However, there's something Roger is excellent at doing - getting attention one way or another from me, his girlfriend.
"Lovie," I hear Roger yell from his 'office' (a room with a drum set and soundproof walls). His voice gives away his neediness, and I can't help but smile to myself with a shake of my head. Lifting the TV remote from my lap, I mute the telly as I turn away from the random show and look toward the hallway. "I need you!" he further adds, making me let out a little laugh in response to his dramatic voice.
Standing from the couch, I head toward the room at the end of the hallway before opening the door to see Roger sitting beside his drum-set, rubbing his hand as if he hurt it. The room is the same way it was yesterday, meaning he barely started practicing after sitting down. Not to mention his long blond hair is still combed down rather splayed everywhere due to his sporadic movements while drumming. That's definitely not normal for Roger
"Are you okay, honey?" I ask, moving closer to sit across from him. Once I do, he scoots forward and plants his head onto my lap where he nuzzles into me while sighing. I can tell he's stressed out - it's evident in his breathing and slightly scrunched face.
"No, I'm not," Roger gently confesses, bringing his hands up to lay in my lap as well. His fingers gently knead against the skin of my thighs for a few seconds before Roger stops with almost a pained hiss. "My... my hands keep cramping," he explains, laying them back on my legs. "They've started hurting terribly."
"Would you like me to rub them?" I ask Roger, reaching down toward his hands. Looking back up at me, Roger slyly smirks to which I squint my eyes at him with a small, "Or not," My words quickly shut down his comment, Roger giving in with a small 'hmph'. He can't even last ten seconds without his mind jumping to something dirty.
Taking his hands in mine, I hold them up to my eyes and frown at the purple and red splotches that cover Roger's fingertips. "Roger, baby," I mutter, running my thumbs over his warm palms. Looking back at me, he lightly smiles and tries to brush my worries off, but I don't let him. "Stay here," I tell him before standing from the wooden floor and heading out into the hall.
Once I'm in our bedroom, I quickly grab the lavender hand lotion from my side table drawer and turn around, only to find Roger entering our room a few seconds after me. Instead of doing like I said and staying in his drumming room, Roger plants himself on our bed where he lays back and gestures for me to join him. "Didn't I tell you to stay put?" I tease him, causing a smile to rise to the blond's lips.
"The drum floor is quite uncomfortable, dear," he tells me, patting his lap. "Come. Sit." Roger adds, now smirking.
"Oh, God, Rog," I almost exclaim, fighting my ever-growing smile and red blush. Tossing the bottle of hand lotion toward him, I point toward him. "And to think I was going to massage your hands in thanks for all your hard work!"
Instantly, his smirk drops and he's sitting straight up rather than lying back. "I promise I'll be good," he states almost as if he were a child begging to go somewhere. "Please, I won't make any more dirty comments."
At his begging, I wait a few seconds before giving up the fight to not smile and letting out a dramatic sigh. "That's impossible for you," I tell him, plopping down on his lap and taking his hands in mine. He must've thought I wasn't going to accept his previous invitation going by the slightly shocked look that takes over his face only to be taken over by bliss.
Once I'm finished massaging his first hand, I start massaging the other one, only to let out a small laugh as I do so. "What?" Roger pipes up, looking up at me with half-lidded eyes and a curious smile. He's so relaxed, that he could probably fall asleep right now.
At his question, I smile back before pressing our hands together, palm to palm. "Your hands are so much bigger than mine," I note, moving my fingers to go between his. "And yet, they fit so perfectly together..."
"Maybe it's because we're meant to be together," Roger concludes, rolling us over so we can lie beside each other. He instantly pulls me into his arms as soon as he can, pressing me to his chest as I simply savor the closeness of our hold. "Wouldnt you agree?" He asks, making me smile up at him.
However, before any more time passes, Roger quickly presses his lips to mine for a few moments until he pulls away, smiling as he stares down at me with nothing but gentleness in his eyes. Squeezing our still interlocked hands, he leans close enough to place his lips on mine once again, but surprisingly, he doesn't, and instead, he chooses to speak up once more. "But then again, I've always known that~"
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thelastdj · 11 months
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Green
Pairing: Roger Taylor x Queen!reader
Genre: flooff
Summary: after the infamous hair dye mishap, (y/n) changes their hair color in solidarity
Warnings: none
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I woke up this morning to a loud shrieking coming from somewhere in the house.
“Roger?”
The bed next to me was empty and I got scared. What if something happened to him?
Another yell echoed through the house and I finally got up. There was an old tennis racket in the closet, which I grabbed as I carefully walked into the hall. It wasn’t gonna do much damage but at least it was something.
“Roger?” I called out again, “Are you there?”
“(y/n)?” his voice called from down the hall. Why on earth was he screaming in the bathroom at 7am on a Saturday?
I banged on the bathroom door, “Roger? Rog, are you okay? Open up.”
“I’m okay, don’t worry love”
“Then open up”
“I… I can't,” he said from the other side.
“Is the lock stuck? Hold on, I’ll go get a screwdriver-“
“No!” he sounded panicked.
“My god Roger you’re acting as if you’ve got a girl hidden in there,” I rolled my eyes before rethinking what I’d said, “You don’t, right?”
He scoffed, “Of course I don’t (y/n).”
“C’mon, then what’s so bad that you locked yourself in a bathroom?”
He paused for a few moments. “Please don’t laugh.”
The bathroom lock clicked and Roger finally opened it. At first he looked fine, still dressed in pajamas. And then I saw the atrocity he was hiding. His hair, his beautiful blond locks, that hair that everyone admired, was now a violent shade of green. His face was pulled into an almost comical frown. Despite his plea, I couldn’t help myself, the scene before me was just too funny.
“(y/n),” he whined, “You promised you wouldn’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you.”
“Yeah right,” he grumbled.
“Aw, come on Rog, it’s really not that bad,” I said, running my hands through his newly dyed hair.
“We have a show tonight (y/n)” he said, “I have to go out there with green hair for hundreds of people to see.”
•••
We arrived at the theater at 5pm for sound check. It was a nice place, room for over a thousand people, and we all had our own dressing rooms. I loved the rest of the band, but there were only so many flying hairbrushes I could dodge.
Naturally, the first thing we heard as we made our way backstage was Brian’s, “Nice hair mate.”
“Shut up,” Roger grumbled.
“Hi (y/n),” Brian greeted me cheerily before turning back to Roger, “What on earth were you trying to do?”
Roger desperately looked over at me for help. I just shrugged. As much as I felt bad for him, it was his own mess. And what a funny mess it was too.
“I was trying to dye it blonde,” he said in a small voice.
“Blonde?” John asked incredulously, “You were trying to dye your already blonde hair blonde?”
“I wanted a different kind of blonde.”
“Roger darling, I hate to break it to you but blonde is blonde,” Freddie joked.
“(y/n) they’re bullying me.”
“Aww come here you poor thing,” I dramatically threw my arms around him, “You boys leave Roger alone. Run off and tune your instruments now.”
“You’re no fun,” Freddie replied in mock-annoyance.
But they did leave, one by one, all going to their own dressing room to get ready. The start of the show was drawing nearer by the minute and there were costumes to be donned and guitars to be tuned and eyeliner to be perfected. I too had a lot of preparing to do. There was something I had planned that might make Roger feel at least a little better about his hair.
“Is my hair really that bad?” Roger asked once everyone else had left.
Though he had laughed off the other’s comments, he sounded genuinely worried about going on tonight. I hadn’t seen him like this before a show since the band had started.
“I promise, it’s not as bad as they’re saying. You know them, they have to poke a little fun. They don’t mean it,” I reassured him.
Roger nodded and kissed me gently on the forehead.
“Am I still pretty though?” he asked, batting his eyes. He was right back to his old self.
“You’re still the prettiest boy here.”
“Reeeally?”
“Yes, now go get ready!” I laughed.
He kissed me one last time and headed off to his own dressing room.
We still had an hour left before the show, if I hurried up I would be ready just in time to go on.
•••
“FIVE MINUTES,” a voice boomed through the hall.
I looked in the mirror one last time, messing up my hair just enough to look good, and not like my hairdryer had exploded. The rest of the band was already strapping on guitars and doing last minute warm ups when I got there. Roger’s eyes grew wide as he saw me.
“(y/n)?” he asked in disbelief, “What did you do to your hair?”
Even in the dim backstage lighting, the dyed orange hue of my hair was clearly visible.
“I dyed it,” I explained, “Now you’re not the only one who’s going on looking like they’re from the circus.”
Roger shook his head, “That’s the nicest, and probably dumbest, thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he smiled, “Thank you (y/n/n).”
“Anything for you darling,” I said, giving him a quick kiss.
“TWO MINUTES,” the voice called again.
“Can I ask one thing?”
“Yeah?”
“Why orange?“ he asked jokingly before adding, “At least my green looks cool.”
“Bowie had orange hair and he looks cool as fuck,” I countered.
“I guess you’re right,” he conceded.
“ONE MINUTE.”
Roger quickly leaned over and kissed me. “Good luck,” he smiled and quickly headed over to his drum kit.
I strapped on my guitar and looked over to him one more time. His green hair clashed fantastically with his white shirt. Roger raised his eyebrows as he caught my stare.
I shot him a quick wink as the final call came, “AND… SHOWTIME!”
The last thing I saw before turning to face the crowd was Roger wink back at me. The crowd’s screams and claps were deafening, but soon enough Freddie’s voice overpowered even that.
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simphq · 9 months
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So i an absolutely obsessed with Queen and the film Bohemian Rhapsody. I love the cast and so I decided to write a Joe Mazzello story. Feel free to add some ideas if you would like to!! So Here is the backstory and first chapter!
• Your Roger Taylors child
• the story is set around the filming of bohemian rhapsody
•most focused on the real life experience than their ‘online life’
•if you have any ideas lmk 😁
•Thanks for reading x
————————————————————
@therealy/n
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Therealy/n Glad to be on set x
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Benhardy we look fantastic 😏
Mrgwilymlee Love it when your on set ❤️
joe_mazzello you should come on to set more!
therealy/n @joe_mazzello ill see what i can do 😁
Brianmayforreal the boys looked amazing today! Bri
Rogertaylorofficial the boys worked really hard today and it was wonderful to have you on set today my darling.
ramimalek who is the handsome man at the end i wonder??
Benhardy @ramimalek me duhh 🙄
Therealy/n @benhardy in your dreams blondy
Lucyboynton1 i wish i was on set today 😭
Therealy/n @lucyboynton1 ugh me too i felt lonely without my other half today 😢
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queencursedarchive · 6 months
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Imagine!! Freddie and Roger start a funeral house where they offer offer additional services like juggling with urns and spray painting caskets and they go bankrupt after 4.5 business days 😍😍😍
(inspired by a conversation on Discord)
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rogertaylorsgirl · 4 months
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a deacy imagine? 😚
First Kiss | John Deacon
Hope you like it <3
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You giggled as you opened the door to your apartment, smiling as John came in right after you.
You guys had been dating for five months, but it felt like it had been a lifetime. The connection was incredible, John never failed to make you smile, cry from laughter, blush or just happy in general.
You were vulnerable with each other, knowing everything there was to know, fears, secrets, weaknesses, passions, taste in music and in everything else.
He actually was in a band called Queen, they had been playing for sometime now and they were about to record their first album. You knew his dream was getting real, becoming a great bassist. Sometimes you had to give him some boost of confidence since he was shy and kinda scared of facing the public, but it always went well.
Now, after a date at the restaurant, you had decided to go to your house to watch a movie. It was raining, so there wasn’t anything else for you two to do outside.
“Okay so, I’ll grab some snacks and you can decide what to watch. You know I’m not great at decisions.” You smiled at him, as he nodded.
You walked to the kitchen and you picked out some chips and candies as you heard him search through your movie collection.
“I found one!” John called out and you walked in the living room, finding him with one of your favourite movies in his hand.
“Oh, Love Story! It’s so good, have you ever watched it?” You asked sitting down on the couch as John turned on the TV before sitting next to you.
“Never.” He shook his head grabbing a bunch of chips.
“Well, be ready to cry.”
As the movie went on, you guys covered yourselves with a blanket since it was getting cold. The rain didn’t stop pouring and it looked like a thunderstorm was on its way.
“Should you spend the night here?” You collected a sort of braveness to ask that question.
The reality was, in dove months you two had never done anything. You just hugged each other or held hands, but nothing more than that. It wasn’t because there wasn’t attraction of course, but because John knew you never had experiences, this was your first relationship and you had told him that you wanted to go slow.
But lately you had been thinking that maybe it was time to let yourself go.
John turned to look at you with wide open eyes before saying, “A-Are you sure?”
You bit your lip as you nodded.
“Well, yeah I guess I could stay.”
Both of you stared into each other’s eyes intensely, and you caught his gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips.
His hand slowly traveled to your hip, squeezing it lightly as he came closer to your body. Your breathing was beginning to get heavy, and before you knew, his lips met yours.
The kiss began slow, but soon enough it became passionate as your tongues danced around. You fell down on your back on the soft cushion of the couch as he came on top of you, moving towards your neck and leaving some kisses on it.
You moaned lightly, your hands going in his hair as you made space for his love bites.
You felt his hand going up and lightly groping your breast as your mouths connected again. You couldn’t ignore the heat you were feeling, so you started to push against his hips, feeling his own need of you.
A small groan escaped his lips before he broke the kiss, proceeding to shake his head.
“No.” His breathing was heavy and his cheeks were flushed as he checked your whole body out.
You furrowed your eyebrows not understanding why was he stopping himself. A whole series of questions came into your mind. Wasn’t he attracted to you? Did he change his mind?
It was like John could hear your thoughts and he shook his head again. “It’s not because I don’t like you. I actually like you a lot. That’s why I don’t want to do that now. I want it to be romantic. Not on the couch for sure.” He laughed a bit at the end and you sighed out in relief.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, I thought there was something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/N. You’re beautiful,” he said as he kissed your forehead, “Smart”, as he kissed your nose, “Sweet”, as he kissed your cheeks, “And I can be myself with you. That means a lot to me.” He finished kissing you again on your lips, a quick but gentle kiss.
You found yourself with a dumb grin plastered on your face. “John Deacon, what the hell are you doing to me?”
John laughed and shrugged, sitting back in his previous spot, “The same thing you’re doing to me.”
Both of you didn’t say it out-loud, but the thing was falling in love, and you knew about it. Both of you knew.
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royalty-fics · 2 years
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Beating You
pairing/s: roger taylor x reader
summary: you and roger go out on an arcade date
warning/s: fluff, one very persistent and unwelcome person
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You and Roger were out together on your second date since you've made it official. The both of you were awkward together, only having short side hugs and shy smiles to show affection. Obviously, you wanted to do more couple things with him, but your relationship was still new and you felt that you were going too fast if you acted on it.
Roger took you to the arcade, wanting to have some fun with you. You happily went with him, making a jabbing comment on how you would beat his ass.
The lights in the arcade were bright and colourful, highlighting the tops of peoples' heads as they moved from stall to stall. There were a variety of games where you and Roger could play together, and you bet your ass that the both of you will play a racing game against each other.
"So, what do you want to do first?" Roger asked you, excitement already filling his blue eyes. He exchanged some of his bills for tokens to use for the machines.
"Hm, I was thinking Wack-A-Mole," You said, a smug smirk worming its way on your face. "The one with the most hits gets all the tickets."
"Oh, you are on, darling." He pulled you to the game, which was thankfully unoccupied. You watched as he put the tokens in, and started the game for the both of you. He handed you the cushioned hammer and you both began to slam it against the rising metal moles on the machine. It lasts for half a minute, with his score 5 points higher than yours. Roger looked at you with a smirk and reached out to take your tickets.
"That's not fair, you're a drummer!" You whined out, following him to the next game. Your boyfriend—wow he's your boyfriend— laughed and led you to a racing game, already sitting down on the mock driver's chair. You plop on the other seat, adjusting it before positioning your feet between the accelerator and brakes.
"You should've thought about that before choosing it for the first game, love." The endearment slipped past his lips so smoothly, it made you blush. Of course, he had called you that before, but now that you were dating, it had a different effect. You just playfully pushed him on the shoulder before grabbing the tokens and inserting them into both of your machines. The game starts and you both decide on a location and your cars. Soon, the race was starting, and the both of you shout curses at one another when you purposefully bump into each other. You were so focused on the game that you didn't notice that Roger had slowed down to glance and admire you.
When your car passed the finish line as first, you jumped up from your seat and pumped your fist up in celebration. "Suck that, loser!" You stuck your tongue out at Roger, who just shook his head in amusement. The rest of the day, the both of you moved from game to game, gathering as much tickets as you both could manage.
Roger had to go to the bathroom after your 10th game, so you stood next to a photobooth and waited for him. A couple of people had come up to you to flirt, but you politely said no, flattered that they even wanted to in the first place. Unfortunately, though, one girl just couldn't take a no and kept persisting.
"I'm with my boyfriend, I'm sorry," You tried to tell her, but she stubbornly stuck to your side, clinging onto your arm.
"I don't see him anywhere! So, you must be lying!" The girl said, and you resisted the urge to face palm. Was she dared to do this? Wasn't this harassment?
"Their boyfriend is right here, and he would appreciate it if you let go of them right now. " Roger glowered at the girl, puffing out his chest in jealousy. She visibly tensed and apologized, scuttering away. You watched him glare at the disappearing figure, almost as if he was expecting her to come back and fight. You touched his arm, calming him and getting his attention at the same time. Roger whipped his head to look at you, and hesitantly reached your hand. "Hold my hand so people know we're dating."
You burst out with laughter, enjoying his embarrassed face before moving to interlock both of your hands and reveling in your first hand hold. In a spur of confidence, you leaned in to kiss his cheek quite quickly, showing whoever was watching you both that you were on a date. Roger smiled widely, and pulled you to the counter to exchange your tickets for a prize. He got a small lion stuffed toy and handed it to you bashfully. You hugged it close to you chest, happily ssnuggling closer to him as you walked out of the arcade.
Roger walked you all the way back to your house, which was thankfully not that far, ranting on and on about band practice and his biology exam the next day. You listened to him with a small grin, commenting once in a while. When you arrived at your front door, the both of you stood out there for a while, not wanting to let go of each other's hands.
"I had fun today," You started off, swinging your hands in between the two of you. He hummed softly, his eyes flickering to your lips. You bite it, hoping he would make the first move. "You should really get better at playing games."
Roger snorted, shaking his head as he looks away briefly. His baby blue eyes were staring at you intensely, making you shiver in anticipation. He leaned in slowly, and your breath gets caught in your throat. "Move away if you don't want this kiss."
He closed the distance between you two, cupping your cheek as he softly moved his lips against yours. Your eyes flutter close, kissing back intently, relishing your first kiss together. It didn't have fireworks like how movies and books descrobed it to be. But, instead, it was like a flower petal falling from its bud and gently swaying to the ground with the help of the soft breeze.
Pulling away from each other, you released the breath you were holding in and opened your eyes to see a flushed Roger in front of you. You saw him lick his lips before swooping in to steal one more kiss. You giggle and grin against it, already knowing this would be your favourite pass time.
Breaking apart for the last time, he reluctantly lets go of you, allowing you to walk backwards to your front door, and sadly waves goodbye to you. Your eyes followed him as he went away, turning back to you to blow a kiss. You playfully caught it and pretended to throw it away. He clutched at his chest, feigning to be hurt. Finally, he vanished from your sight as he turned a corner, leaving you empty. You glance down at the stuffed lion in your hands and hug it tight, acting as if it were you boyfriend. Damn, you missed him already.
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Hello, I am a big fan of your writing 😄 Could you do a fic where a college aged Roger Taylor and the reader who have been dating for a while and they are waiting on a home pregnancy test? While they wait the reminisce about what they have gone through together and the good times. When the results are ready it's negative and they are relieved. Thank you!
Hi there nonnie! You got it! I will have two endings: one where the test is positive, and one where it is negative.
Per Anon's request, Reader here is a person whose body is able to have children, but because gender is not specified in the request, the reader will be gender neutral and can be read to identify however you would like!
Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! If you like it- reblog or leave a comment!
Warnings: Mentions of sex and some steamy bits but no specifics or details, mentions of drinking and drunkness, discussions of pregnancy, and mentions of abortion. But plenty of fluff!
Word Count: 1K
Link to my Comfort Character Letter and Playlist Etsy Shop
Link to My Ko-Fi for Comfort Character Letters
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You reached for the pink kitchen timer in the shape of an egg and twisted it to fifteen minutes. That’s all it would take. That would be the moment of truth. Just fifteen little minutes and you would know for sure.
The timer was placed on the shelf of the sink. Right next to it was a pending pregnancy test. You placed both hands on the counter, looked into the mirror at your own face, and took in a deep breath. You held it, then released.
Watching the little white stick for fifteen minutes would only make you feel worse about the results you did not want yet.
Walking out, you saw Roger on the couch. You told him your period was late. Two days wasn’t much, but it was something. He turned over and looked at you.
“Hey, love,” he greeted.
“Hey,” you responded.
He opened his arms, and you followed him, plopping onto the couch. You nestled your head onto his chest where you felt it’s steady heartbeat. He wrapped both arms around you, one rubbing on your back. Another found a free hand of yours and held it.
“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Mmmph, you’re not the one getting tested.”
“Fair enough.”
He noticed your breaths were quick inhales and sharp exhales through your nose. It was troubling for him to hear such. He could even hear your heart pick up.
“Hey, Y/N...do you remember how we met?” he asked.
You looked up.
“What was it like on your end?” he asked.
“We’ve told this story before…”
“Nah, I’d like to hear It from you…” Roger responded.
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You met at a bar. It was dark and there was that odd smell that came with beer- like you could smell bread baking from the wheat that was concocted inside the drink. It was that mixture of bakeries and bars- something delicious was being created to be consumed and enjoyed.
But you could not enjoy that beer in peace. A man who looked far older than you and quite odious slid up to you. He was smiling and trying to get your attention.
“Excise me…I’m just not in the mood tonight. Would you leave me alone, please?” you asked politely.
“What?? Don’t you like a free drink?” he asked, peeved.
You felt your blood run cold when you heard a voice:
 “Hey! I’ll get you anything you want, and you leave ‘em alone!”
You turned around to see…maybe not the most handsome man you met, but the most beautiful. You almost dropped your jaw. He had large blue eyes with thick lashes, porcelain skin, and the most beautiful, silky blonde hair you had ever seen. And he was walking up to you. You began to talk for hours and then traded numbers with smiling faces.
Your first kiss was in the rain. Roger had turned oddly romantic. He wanted to go to a museum of great interest to you. There was a special exhibit for only a limited time- a certain painter you adored. He bought you tickets- nice tickets! And this was before the band got off it’s feet too!
You grabbed his hand, ooing and aaaahing at the art. He smiled and admired it. If he thought anything rude about it, he kept it to himself. Even if he might have appeared low brow, he knew beauty when he saw it.
Once you walked out, it began to rain. Howling with laughter from the surprise of cold water splattering on your heads, you took off your jackets and huddled under them, running to the nearest shade you could find. One was a large tree planted in the sidewalk, proving a relief of raindrops. They weren’t a torrent, but manageable small drips every now and then. You both looked at each other, eyes bright from running and hair damp.
“Can I kiss you, Y/N?”
You nodded yes.
You tasted the hamburger he ate for lunch, his tongue collided with yours, but his lips felt soft. On your book, it was a perfect first kiss.
It didn’t stop at kissing of course. The first time you did the deed, it was three days later. You had been studying over at his place. Luckily, he ordered in food, complete with dessert. As you put aside your flashcards, you gave a deep sigh.
“How do you feel, Y/N?”
“Good! I feel good about it!”
“Well then, guess we have time for this then!”
He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you onto his lap. You began to make out. Furiously. And you didn’t want it to stop this time.
 As you sat there, you gave him a naughty smile. Then you quickly pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it in the floor. From the quick blinking and half grin, he gave you, he was not going to stop you.
“Rog…Rog I want you…” you said, placing his lovely face in your hands as you began to kiss him again and again.
“I want you…” you trailed down to his neck. You felt his body relax beneath yours “so bad…”
“Have me then…” he said. He unbuttoned his own shirt. Soon you felt the warmth of each other’s bare skin against the others. And it didn’t stop at your shirts.
You were there for every concert you could make it to. You cheered loudly as you could. Despite the numerous groupies with their claws pointed at Roger, he shooed them away. They would give you a glare before moving onto the next band member in sight.  None of you minded that much. There were times you goofed off with drinking games and then would dance all night to your favorite songs before wandering to the house.
“Damn…” Roger would say…he reached into the closet and pulled out a bottle of vodka. He got out two shot glasses.
“Rog! It’s five in the morning? And you’re drinking vodka???” you gasped.
“Why else do it? We had an amazing concert and we're celebrating! We’re alive and it’s here, we might as well enjoy it!”
And then sleep until the afternoon when you woke up tangled in each other’s arms but smiling.
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As you were warm from thinking of those things there was a “Ding! Ding! Ding!” from the bathroom. The timer went up.
The moment of truth.
“Here it is…” you said nervously.
Roger took your hand and walked you to the bathroom. Shaking, you reached over and looked at the stick.
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Ending One: Positive-
Two lines. Two clear little pink lines. Roger was next to you; he clutched your hand. The inhale you were taking stopped in your throat. The stick was even moving with you hand. You kept blinking, then you let out a sharp exhale.
“Y/N….my Y/N, what do you think?” he asked.
This was huge. He couldn’t imagine what you were going through in your head.
“Y/N, if you need an abortion, I’ll help you. I’ll play the drums extra hard, I’ll pitch in what I have, I’ll help you to make it happen- we’ll find a clinic that’s safe and then you won’t have to..."
You let out a laugh, tears were already in your eyes, and you shook your head.
“No Roger! No!”
He tilted his head and squinted his blue eyes.
“No?”
“I mean, thank you! It’s kind of you to offer…but no!!!”
You hugged him with both arms, the test still in your hand, dangling off, the two lines staring at Roger. You gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.
“Here’s what…I…I want to keep the baby…”
“Keep it? Then…then this is big, Y/N…but…you’re happy?”
“I am happy! I am happy that I have a part of you with me, always- that there’s going to be a person half you and half me out there in the world! I…I’ve wanted to be pregnant for a while now! And I want to have your baby!”
You relaxed in his arms and melted onto his shoulder.
You let go and he held your hands, pulling you close still.
“Y/N…we will do what we can…I…I never thought a year ago I would say this but…I will be a dad to this baby. I won’t leave you and I won’t leave the kid inside you either! You don’t have to be afraid now- you mean so much to me and if that means taking this on, I won’t mind…"
Outside you heard birds chirping as if celebrating. Roger licked his lips and then frowned, eyes looking down.
"But...I'll try...even if I’m not ready to be a dad…” he confessed.
“Will we ever be ready to be parents?” you asked.
There was a pause. The clock ticked as if in silent reply and outside a car passed by.
“Then…then we’ll raise the baby together.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ending Two: Negative.
There was only one line. There were two sighs. Roger was relieved secretly- no responsibilities. No human life to concern himself about. Y/N blinked and rechecked again and again, and then set it down.
“Well…well then!” you announced.
“Why, Y/N…we might need to celebrate!” Roger suggested.
“I…I think so!”
He went to the kitchen, even though it was still the afternoon, and the sun was shining through the windows.
 “Let’s have a drink- it’s something you would have to miss out on! We can throw in some coffee too! And all the stuff you wouldn’t be able to enjoy if you were pregnant!”
Sure enough he brought out the drinks and you were enjoying it. You both held small champagne glasses.
“Part of me…wants to be pregnant. Wants to be a mama. But I…I’m not so sure…”
“It’s a lot of work, Y/N. And…with the band…we’re enjoying what we have…”
“You know…you’re right! I like my life! I like my college and my classes and my friends!"
"No one wants to miss out on those!" Roger commented.
You played with the rim of your cup and looked down, then back up through your lashes at Roger
" Plus, there’s this handsome drummer I’m dating…” you added.
He leaned against the kitchen counter cockily.
“What’s he like?” Roger asked.
“Hilarious. Smart. Talented. Creative. Bold. Fearless. Passionate. Fiery. And best of all…he’s mine…” you praised.
“Same to you, darling.” He replied with a smile that could melt winter.
Taglist: @0x0spunky-monkey0x0 @seraphicmercury @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @queenlover05
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spreadyovrwings · 1 year
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64 Oslo Square
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‘Companion’. Middle English. From Old French ‘compaignon’, literally ‘one who breaks bread with another’.
Pairings: John Deacon x (female + plus size) reader
Warnings: Eventual smut, you know how it is
Strapped for cash, John gets a job at a bakery as their new delivery boy. Juggling school and Queen and work is exhausting, but it’s more than worth it. It’s worth it because of you.
Warnings for this chapter: None! Except like major flirting (gross)
//
Chapter Five
Two doors down from 64 Oslo Square, there was an Indian takeaway. John had been meaning to pop in a few times, but the emptiness of his pockets had always far outweighed the emptiness of his stomach.
He stopped and gazed at his own reflection in the glass shopfront, coldly cut off from the promise of good, warm food.
John would never admit it to anyone, but he did take quite a bit of pride in his appearance. He wasn’t vain, he hoped, he just liked to look nice. He dressed casually most of the time, but John never left the house without first making sure that he smelt great and his hair was perfectly set.
He frowned as he pulled at his long curls, then brushed his fingertips over his fringe, making sure he looked just right. Roger and Freddie would be dropping round today, the least he could do was look his best while they were antagonising him in front of you.
As John entered the bakery, he took in a deep breath. It had become a habit, filling his lungs with the incredible smells of fresh bread, vanilla speckled custard, and power-soft icing sugar. He’d never get tired of this place.
When he couldn't see you behind the counter, John began to relax. He was always disappointed when your paths failed to cross, but it was a bit of a relief. Perhaps you had taken a rare holiday? Freddie and Roger would, without a doubt, simply reschedule their plans to darken the bakery’s door, but it would buy John some more time, perhaps enough to properly warn you, make up some excuse, or die, whichever was easiest.
Laughter rang out from the kitchen, bright and pretty. John’s stomach flipped, then a moment later, his shoulders lowered. You were here after all.
His disappointment didn’t last very long at all. He saw you move past the kitchen doorway, soft and beautiful and warm, even at a glance. Then, you popped back into sight and waved at him, even though you had to prop the tray of croissants you were carrying up against the doorframe to do so.
Beaming, John waved back until you disappeared from sight again. As he lowered his hand, he realised his heart was pounding.
He wasn’t sure what would be more rude, to slip behind the counter and make himself a cup of tea or wait to be served. John didn’t want to give the impression that he’d made himself at home, but he didn’t want to be waited on by his friends either.
While he was dithering, he caught sight of Alastair, Gladys’ famed boyfriend. The bakery was, as usual, full of customers, but while they were all seated at the tables dotted around the room, sipping teas and coffees and munching happily on sweet treats, Alastair was standing by the kitchen doorway.
It made John frown. You certainly wouldn’t be happy if you knew about that. Alastair had carefully hidden himself away out of sight, tucked behind the corner so that you and Mickey couldn’t see him as you flitted about.
He watched on incredulously as he realised Alastair was using the bakery’s phone. John could just about hear his deep, impassive voice under the low hum of activity. As he spoke, Alastair turned his body away from the kitchen doorway and the other customers, the telephone cord pulled tight against his arm as he tried to move as far out of earshot as possible.
“Just off the high street. Yeah. Yeah, no. No, it’s closer to the park.”
Curious, John moved closer, keeping his gaze down so that anyone would think he was just having trouble deciding what to eat.
“Yeah. Three stories. There’s a flat above and a cellar. She said they had a flood a few years ago but that’s been sorted now. Yeah, no, shouldn’t be any trouble…”
Perhaps sensing he was being watched, Alastair looked round over his shoulder. When he caught John’s gaze, he gave him a quick, polite but cold smile. John did not smile back.
He wondered if he should say something, challenge what he’d overheard, but then you came out of the kitchen at last. You smiled at him so prettily that John completely forgot all about Alastair for now.
“Alright, New Boy?”
“How are you?”
“Good, good. Just trying to sort an order out for this bloke. Called last minute just before closing yesterday, asked if we could add a ‘few’ more things to his delivery. Of course, Gladys said yes. I keep telling her the cut-off is midday but-” You smiled. “Boring, sorry. How are you doing? Isn’t today your day off?”
“S’pose I just can’t get enough of you.”
You blinked.
John gawped. He had intended ‘you’ as a plural: you, Mickey, even Gladys. But that wasn’t what he said and both of you knew it wasn’t what he meant either. He really couldn’t get enough of you. It was as simple as that.
Luckily, a customer required your attention and you were both saved.
You put up one finger, holding him in place.
“Hang on,” you said, then went to serve the customer.
John let go of the breath he’d been holding.
He really was a shambles. He should just ask you to dinner and get it over with; his heart couldn’t take much more of this. It’s just that whenever he spoke to you, all his carefully prepared words went out the window, and even breathing became a struggle, let alone talking.
John watched you interact with the customer, how you smiled and waited patiently for them to choose a cake.
He liked the way you stood, with your weight on one hip, how you rested your hands on your waist, and how you spoke, confident and disarming with an edge that gave away that you were always two steps ahead.
Even if he could work up the courage to ask you out, where could he take you? John barely had enough money to feed and clothe himself, he wasn’t much of a catch. The thought sank like a stone to the pit of his stomach.
John’s gaze slid wearily back over to Alastair, who by now had hung up the phone and was blowing kisses through the kitchen doorway, presumably to Gladys since he didn’t think Mickey would appreciate the gesture.
Alastair dressed well: his shoes gleamed, his shirts were always neatly pressed, and he reeked of expensive cologne. Off-putting as he was to be around, he could afford to treat Gladys to dinners, dates, and opulent gifts, or so John had heard.
What did he have to offer you but an incomplete degree, a second-hand bass guitar, and so much social anxiety that he had to practice saying hello to you in the mirror for twenty minutes before he left his digs?
“Look at that!
John turned to find you lifting the glass dome from a cake stand. It was only after you’d boxed the last remaining slice and handed it over to the customer that he realised why you were smiling at him. John’s lips parted in surprise as he gazed at the now empty cake stand.
“Was that my..? People actually bought it?”
As Gladys bustled past, she reached over the counter and pinched his cheek.
“Of course they did!” She said. “It was lovely, John. You did a great job.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head at your boss as she swept past you.
John cupped his now smarting cheek with one hand, his other fingers wrapped around the edge of the counter. He feared if he let go, his weak knees wouldn’t support him for very long.
“Thank you. Is it…? Is it really all sold out?”
He spoke softly, raising his eyes to you. John would never know how his tender gaze made your heart melt, how the slight tilt of his head made you want to just throw away your dignity and kiss him.
For a moment, your gaze softened. He wished he knew what you were thinking, what it was that made you look at him so sweetly before your smile turned pointed again.
“I said it was for charity; it went in seconds,” you said, making Gladys laugh.
John pretended to look wounded, pressing his palm flat against his racing heart.
“Oof, you’re mean.”
Your smile relaxed into something more gentle, and John couldn’t help thinking how pretty you looked when you were pleased to see him.
“Just kidding, Johnny. People really liked it.”
John’s hand was still resting over his heart. The nickname made it thump against his palm. He had to look away, if he didn’t, he knew a bashful grin would spread across his face, and he would have a hard time explaining away his bright red cheeks.
“Well, you baked it. I just made it look nice.”
“You’re good at that. Why do you think we hired you?”
Gladys reached over and flapped her hand at you without taking her eyes off the tea she was steeping.
“Stop flirting in front of the customers.”
To John’s amusement, you rolled your eyes at her, but then you smiled, tired and pretty, and winked at him.
“Wait till I get you alone in that kitchen.”
You were only kidding. At least he thought so. Still, John couldn't help his mind wandering to what that might entail. Your gorgeous round hips under his hands. The soft gasps he might inspire as he parted your thighs. Your fingers wrapped around his jaw as you kissed him, deep and slow, in a dark, quiet corner of the kitchen where no one would see you.
While John all but melted, Gladys huffed and shook her head.
“You are shameless.” She gave John an apologetic look. “Cuppa?”
“Please.”
He got himself seated, then a few moments later, you came over with a steaming cup of tea and a couple of biscuits.
John hoped you would sit with him but the shop was full today and you just didn’t have the time. He watched your fingers wrap around the seat opposite his and knew you ached to stay. It must have been a busy morning, your eyes were clouded and soft, but even though you must be exhausted, you still made time for him. The thought warmed his chest.
“I’ve got some friends coming round.”
“To your digs?”
Your hair was down today. He thought he could smell your shampoo, something citrusy, sharp but sweet just like you.
“Here,” John suddenly panicked. “If that’s alright?”
You smiled, and his shoulders relaxed.
“Are these your mates from your band?”
“Yes, um…”
There was a streak of flour on your cheek. His fingers ached to brush it away for you, to cup your face and feel you sink into him as he kissed you.
“They’re, er…”
John could never hold your gaze for very long. He meekly glanced away, then back again, but there was something about you looking down at him from this angle that made his cheeks burn. His eyes felt heavy as they drifted down to your cheek again, then the safe, soft curve of your shoulder.
“I wanted to apologise in advance.”
If he’d been brave enough to meet your eyes, he would've seen understanding, then amusement flash across your face.
“Are they coming to embarrass you?”
“Yes,” John sighed, forcing himself to make eye contact again. “And I’ve talked about you a lot so they know your name and- Basically, they’re gonna drive you mad and I’m really sorry. You don’t have to talk to them.”
To his surprise and no small amount of relief, you reached over and rested your hand on his bare forearm. Warmth spread through his veins immediately, all the way up to his now burning cheeks.
“I can’t wait to meet them,” you said gently.
You are so beautiful.
The words almost slipped from his mouth but John clamped his lips together just in time.
You gave his arm a squeeze, then went back into the kitchen where Mickey was waiting to tease you about getting distracted.
John watched you walk away. He hoped you might turn back at the last moment and ask if he wanted another baking lesson, or simply catch his eye and wink at him again. But you didn’t.
Instead, he let his gaze drift down so that he might memorise the shape of your arse, your hips, and your thighs in those tight, dark blue flares. John turned his attention to his cup of tea, his face hot, feeling guilty and exhilarated all at once.
Roger and Freddie had warned John that they’d be dropping by about lunch time, so, of course, they rocked up just as the clock was ticking towards three.
Tucked away in a quiet corner of the bakery with his back to the door, John felt safe. No one looked his way, no one bothered him, and he had a perfect view through the kitchen doorway, where you were dusting cinnamon rolls with clouds of bright white icing sugar.
He heard them before he saw them. 64 Oslo Square’s peace was broken by the door being pushed open with gusto, then the clomp clomp clomp of chunky heels on the wooden floor.
“Sorry we’re late!”
A hand came down on John’s left shoulder. Freddie’s neatly manicured black fingernails shone, his bangles rattling in John’s ear as he shook him gently.
“Bloody hectic morning. You’d think the whole of London was in that market.”
“I am starving!”
Roger dropped into the seat across from John like a sack of potatoes. He immediately flopped over the table, resting his head on his forearms with a long groan.
“Deaky,” he complained. “I’m so cold. Can I hold your tea?”
Huffing softly, John pushed his mug across the table.
Roger unfolded his arms and wrapped his fingers around it, his forehead now pressed against the table. He yawned loudly, his back arching under his big coat.
“What a day, Deaks. It’s bloody freezing out there. I was wearing three furs by the end.”
“Oh, this place is lovely though,” said Freddie, scanning the room with a glint in his dark eyes. “Nice and cosy. Oh, for God’s sake, Roger. Move over!”
Roger had taken the outside seat, so Freddie had to squeeze behind him to reach the empty chair by the window. Muttering and swearing, he lifted one leg high and hopped the rest of the way. Roger didn’t raise his head from the table once but a few customers did look over in interest.
John shrank back into himself, hunching his shoulders with embarrassment. Freddie wasn’t exactly the most inconspicuous of figures at the best of times, let alone when he was cursing Roger and making a big fuss.
He looked fearfully towards the kitchen doorway but thankfully, you didn't seem to notice the commotion over the rumble of the ovens and the notoriously ancient and unreliable whisk.
Freddie must have followed his gaze because he suddenly gasped.
“Is that her!”
John shot him a pained look. If he shrank back in his seat anymore, he would be in serious danger of slipping right under the table.
“Please, please don’t say anything.”
“What! When we came all the way here to meet her!”
“It’s a five minute walk from the market.”
“Yes,” Roger lifted his head. “But it’s raining.”
Freddie gestured emphatically, as if he’d made a salient point.
“Pouring. And I turned down lunch with Zandra for this.”
“She is pretty.”
Roger was gazing at you too now. He craned his neck, trying to get a better view, and nodded his head approvingly when he did. Something about the way he looked at you made John frown.
“Is she going with anyone?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” John sighed. “Mickey says she isn’t.”
Freddie frowned.
“Mickey?”
“The big lad in the kitchen,” Roger reminded him.
Freddie perked up.
“Oo?”
“He’s married.”
Disappointed, Freddie flopped dramatically back in his chair.
“Typical,” he muttered while Roger pulled a sympathetic face.
John couldn’t resist smiling. As embarrassing as they were, it was good to see his friends.
They were always teasing him, poking fun at each other and generally being a nuisance, but just because they could be silly didn’t mean they were unreliable. Roger, for example, might not care too much for his degree, but drumming was his life.
Passion, they had it by the bucketload, but they also had a wonderful habit of reminding John that he was still young, that he should be having fun, and that sometimes, it was alright to not take things too seriously.
Roger was already practically falling out of his seat with excitement, but when you left the kitchen to talk to Gladys, he slapped Freddie’s arm frantically.
“So how does it work?” he asked. “Do we go order at the counter or does she…?”
Freddie flung up his hand and waved it airily in your direction, his chin raised to the ceiling, reminiscent of a duke or a prince.
“Hello!” He called across the room and beamed when you looked over. “Hello, love!”
John saw the bewildered expression on your face and wanted to melt right into his shoes. The bakery didn’t do table service; hopefully you wouldn’t think they were being purposefully rude.
“Freddie, please,” he hissed.
“I’m just saying hello!”
Out of the corner of his eye, John could see you starting to make your way over.
“Oh, God.” He sat up straight. “Please be normal.”
Freddie just scoffed and waved him off.
Roger began to form what would probably have been a painfully acerbic response, but both he and Freddie looked up when you finally appeared by the table.
“You hollered?”
You sighed the words, resting your weight on one hip in a way John found frankly exhilarating.
You looked down at them, taking them all in, one by one. Your expression was flat, though thankfully, you didn’t seem to be genuinely irritated.
When your gaze finally landed on John, the corner of your mouth flickered, and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.
Freddie leaned right over the table, stretching out his hand towards you.
“Freddie Mercury, pleasure to meet you.”
As he reached over, he accidentally shoved his shoulder into Roger’s face, who complained and huffed and tried to push him away.
Amused, you shook Freddie’s hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You know, John hasn’t stopped talking about this place since he was hired,” Roger beamed up at you. “And now I see why.”
You shook his hand too, your eyes flicking towards John, perhaps to see how he felt about that last comment.
“He talks a lot about you too.” You smiled. “You must be Roger.”
“It’s great to meet you. You know, I’ve been past this place a hundred times and I keep meaning to come in.”
“Well, now you have, what can I get you?”
They ordered two cups of tea and two slices of cake, chocolate for Roger and coffee and walnut for Freddie.
You returned with their food quickly. If John didn’t know any better, he’d think you actually were excited to meet his friends.
When you’d expressed interest in them before, he thought you were only being polite. But no, he could see it in your face, you were practically fizzing. The others wouldn’t be able to tell but they didn’t know you like he did.
But why? Why were you so eager? To tease him? To eek more information about him out of his friends? Perhaps. There was a far more likely explanation, one that warmed his chest to even consider. You liked him, you wanted to meet his friends, you wanted to be a part of his life, as he’d become a part of yours.
You set two cups of tea down on the table in front of Roger and Freddie, as well as their slices of cake. To John’s amusement, you set another slice of chocolate cake down in front of him.
He opened his mouth to say something but to John’s surprise, you chucked him under the chin before he could protest.
“So, what’s the verdict?” You smiled down at them. “Are we good enough for John?”
“I think this place has done him the world of good,” said Freddie.
When you glanced at him, John offered you a brave little smile.
He thought it was rather obvious that this place, that you, had had a profound effect on his confidence. John wouldn’t be shouting the others down in an argument anytime soon, but he carried himself in a different way. Yes, you’d done him a lot of good.
“Is he as chatty with you lot as he is here?”
“Oh, Deaks? Can’t shut him up, can we Deaky?”
Roger stuck out his foot and nudged John’s under the table.
You turned your gaze to him. There was a small smile on your lips, soft and gentle. It lacked your usual snark. In fact, John thought it was the warmest look you’d ever sent his way.
“Deaky…”
You repeated the nickname, trying it out for the first time.
John would be the first to admit that he didn’t have the most exciting name. First, middle, and last, it was a title that did the job, a sensible, straightforward, boring old name that he sometimes wished his parents had put just a little more thought into.
He didn’t think his nickname was particularly exciting either, but neither his real name nor the one his friends had given him had ever sounded better than from your lovely, smiling mouth.
“A fantastic bassist,” Freddie was saying, while you and John gazed at each other. “Great head for business-”
“Great head. Ow!”
Roger yelped as Deaky’s boot connected with his shin.
“He’s brilliant,” Freddie went on. “You could hang your hat on him.”
“Especially when he’s talking about you.” Roger was faster this time and moved his leg away from John’s swinging platform. “Though, you’ve gotta watch the bruises on him, love.”
“Bruises?”
“Yeah, from all the girls pushing him away with barge poles.”
John looked up at you, hoping his exasperated expression would go some way to apologise for his friends. But you weren’t looking at him, you were watching Roger almost reproachfully. And there was that taut bowstring smile.
“And what do you do, Roger?”
The way you said his name, John had to hide his smile behind his mug. It was very different to the way you said his, always so warm and soft when you were pleased to see him, or staccato and electric when you were teasing him.
Roger didn’t seem to notice the acidity of your tone. He puffed out his chest.
“Oh, you know, I’m in the import/export business. Real premium merchandise.”
John rolled his eyes.
“They have a stall in Kensington Market.”
Your smile cut through Roger’s affronted response.
“I’ll leave you to it.” You waved airily at his friends. “Nice to meet you both.”
They tried to convince you to sit with them, but you politely declined. You were still on shift, you said, you had work to do, but John caught the glance you threw his way before you left. You were lying.
Concerned, he hoped they hadn’t bothered you too much. But that particular worry settled again almost as soon as it shook off its wings. His friends appeared to amuse you, the roll of your eyes told him that, and the little smile that was just for him.
Roger and Freddie watched you leave, grinning.
John hadn’t known him all that long really, but a stranger on the street could tell that Roger loved women, all women. And loved them genuinely too, not for sport but for the way they spoke, the way they walked and held themselves, he loved their nuances and their laughter, and he already seemed to adore you.
It should have made John nervous. It should have made him bristle with envy. Roger was clever and kind, handsome and beautiful all at once, easy to talk to and to get to know, something John just couldn’t seem to get the hang of. But it was him you kept smiling at, his mouth you were always watching, his shoulder you squeezed when you said goodbye.
“Oh, she is lovely,” Freddie watched you walk away with an almost fond smile. “Absolutely wonderful.”
“She is, isn’t she? She’s so…”
Roger grinned.
“Smart and funny and pretty, and bossy in a way that makes your knees weak…”
“All warm and delicious and soft, and you’d frankly let her do anything she wanted to you?” Freddie finished, raising a delicate eyebrow.
John nodded.
“That pretty much sums it up, yes. She’s just… Wow, you know? And I think she really likes me.”
“Ask her out then!”
John snorted.
“I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“I’ll die.”
“Oh,” Roger scoffed and rolled his eyes in an almost motherly way. “Don’t be a twat. You like her. She likes you. What are you waiting for? I’ll die of old age at this rate.”
“I’m not- I’m not being a- It’s hard!”
“To ask out someone you like?”
“For me, yes!”
Freddie put a hand on Roger’s arm.
“John probably just wants to do it right. Is that it, Deaky?”
“Yes! Well, it- Yes, I want to make sure she actually likes me.”
“She looks at you like she wouldn’t mind bending you over one of these tables.”
“Roger!”
“Hey, I wouldn’t mind that myself. She’s gorgeous.”
“Please,” John pressed his fingertips against his closed eyelids. “Please shut up.”
“I hope those kitchen walls aren’t too thin,” Freddie smiled, sipping his tea regally. “You’ll give her ideas.”
“Like she hasn’t had them already. She’d definitely have you pinned up against the bread slicer if you gave her half a chance.”
“I want to do this right,” John pressed on gallantly, his voice a note or two higher than usual. “I don’t want to make things uncomfortable and lose this job and my friends… I want to… I want to see her outside of work but I just can’t figure out how to… Nothing seems right. Everything I think of either seems boring or too much or… Oh, God, I don’t know.”
John took a bite of his chocolate cake, miserable.
While his mind raced, turning over and over like a sputtering engine as he tried to decide what to do, his friends exchanged a glance that said many things all at once.
Freddie’s twisted mouth suggested they should help John take the next step, while Roger’s raised eyebrows emphasised that they ought to act soon, as John looked like he was about to keel over.
They changed the subject, aiming to reel John back in with talks of their next gig, of a new song idea that Roger wanted to try, and some gossip about the girl Brian was seeing. They ate their cake and drained their tea, warmed by the bakery and its gifts.
At last, the rain began to ease and the staggered buildings that bracketed the street were backed by a rosy sky. The city was slowly turning its face towards the evening, soon the lamps that lined the roads would beckon them out into the dark.
A serious lack of funds and four conflicting schedules meant that the only time Queen managed to book a slot in any recording studio was around midnight, when every musician in their right mind was off having fun. Tonight, the boys were meeting across town, hoping inspiration might find them and bless them with a track or two.
John didn’t want to leave. The rain had almost stopped now but he knew the harsh wind would slip under his clothes until his muscles ached from trying to shake some life back into him. It was a long trudge to the studios in the north of the city, especially in the platforms he’d worn just in case you saw him and his friends standing together and it wasn’t obvious that he was tallest.
Distracted by thoughts of homework, a feeble dinner, and leaving the delicious warmth of the bakery, John didn’t notice Roger slip over to the counter to talk to you until it was too late.
You were chatting with Gladys, haggling over wages again, but stopped when Roger leaned right over the counter and waved at you.
“Here, love, what time do you finish?”
“We close at six?”
Too late, John realised his friend had gotten away from him and marched over to rescue you. He got there just in time to hear Roger ask,
“Perfect, are you free tomorrow night?”
John wrapped his fingers around the scruff of Roger’s shirt and pulled him away from the counter, shooting you an apologetic look at the same time.
While Freddie went up to pay for their drinks, John cornered Roger.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing!”
“You’re meddling.”
Roger smiled, wide and unapologetic.
“No...”
“Roger Meddling Taylor.”
“I just thought I’d see if your gorgeous boss has plans this week!”
“Why would you..?”
“You know how I’m your favourite person in the whole wide world?” Roger grinned. “Well, after your lovely new friend.”
“Roger…”
“And how I would never steer you wrong?”
John only grimaced.
When he went up to say goodbye, you were there waiting for him with a soft smile.
“They seem nice.”
“They’re…” John huffed. “They’re a lot. They’re nice but they’re idiots.”
“They love you to bits.”
“You think?”
You just smiled again, then asked,
“You off, then?”
“Uh, yes. Yeah. I was um…” John glanced back over his shoulder to find his friends watching him with eager expressions. “We’ve got a gig. Tomorrow night. It’s not far from here, actually.”
“That’s ni-”
“Do you want to come?” It came out too quickly, too nervous. John winced. “Sorry, I- Sorry. It’s, uh, it’s the first one I’ve organised myself and I’m terrified no one’s going to show up. Or worse, only a couple do and- Doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to say is, I’d really love for you to come.”
He watched your smile grow, but before it could meet your eyes, it changed shape, hollowed out, and turned downwards.
“Tomorrow night? I’ll be-”
“Working, I know.”
You were always working. In all the time that you’d known each other, John couldn’t recall you mentioning any friends, any hobbies, or any life outside of this bakery.
He knew all about loneliness, how you could sink so deep before you even noticed, and trying to break through the surface to catch your breath felt impossible. He thought you might be able to help each other.
Still, he didn’t mean that to come out quite so sharply. He saw something flicker across your face. John tried to soften his expression, hoping you’d see that he was trying, at last, to reach out, to make a connection.
“It’s at eight.” He placed his hand flat against the counter but was too cowardly to brush his fingertips against yours. “One night, that’s all I’m asking. My way of thanking you for helping me settle in. And, hey, there’ll be popcorn. Maybe even a beer if you’re lucky.”
For a moment, he thought you might decline. Between your uncertain gaze and the unmistakable sound of Freddie and Roger practically vibrating with anticipation behind him, John almost caved and told you not to worry. He was glad he waited. That one second meant all the difference, just one moment of bravery.
You moved your hand forward, so now the very tip of your middle finger was pressed against his.
“Okay, yeah. Alright, New Boy, you’re on. I’ll see you then.”
As you spoke, you slipped your hand over his, your index, middle and ring fingers now resting over his.
“Really?”
“Yeah! Yeah, no, that sounds like fun. I’ll be there.” You laughed. “I’ll even make a sign with your name on it, make sure everyone knows who I’m there to see. I’ll shout ‘that’s my delivery boy!’”
John smiled so wide it made his cheeks ache.
You glanced over his shoulder at Roger and Freddie, beaming away, and pulled your hand back.
“Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just yourself.” John gave a little wiggle he’d want to punch himself for later. “And your dancing shoes.”
As he turned to go, Roger cupped his hands around his mouth and spoke loud enough for the whole bakery to hear.
“And preferably something revealing so Deaky has something to look at while he’s-”
John grabbed him by the shoulders, span Roger around, and pushed him out the door.
“See you later!”
/
Bedford College was a tall, imposing building, red-bricked and impressive, even in the half light of a blustery spring evening. You felt the eye of the clock tower follow you as you crossed the campus, following the signs sporting Queen’s scrawled logo.
You tugged at your velvet flares, then the front of your top. You looked good, hopefully, but not too good, like you’d made an effort but effortlessly. You didn’t want John to know how eager you were to see him outside of work, but you didn’t want him to think that you didn’t care about the gig, about him.
You found the sports hall with little trouble. Concerned, you realised you couldn’t hear any music. Perhaps you’d got the time wrong? You checked your watch. No, a few minutes before eight, you were right on time.
The sports hall doors were heavy, you had to lean your whole body against one to push it all the way open. When you stepped inside, the air was warm and close, the unmistakable odour of a school gymnasium.
For a moment, you thought you must have come to the wrong place. The room was practically empty. Through the low light, you could see six or so teenagers floating around near a makeshift stage, and a low drinks table dotted with paper cups and homemade bags of popcorn.
Finally, you saw John. He and his band mates were standing beside the stage. He looked decidedly nervous. Next to him, Roger and a tall man, who you knew must be Brian, seemed to be spatting at each other like alley cats. Even unshakeable Freddie was tugging at his silver bangles, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
You moved slowly towards the stage, keeping an eye on the other attendees. Perhaps something had happened? Maybe rather than being late, you were actually too early?
The band moved onto the stage. They got into position with practice ease, though you were sure John’s restless fingers, Roger’s scowl, and the half-interest of the meagre crowd were not part of the act.
You watched John with such obvious interest, you couldn’t believe it took him several moments to notice your eyes on him. He seemed relieved to see you.
While Freddie introduced the band, John lifted his fingers from the sleek black body of his bass guitar and waved them at you. You smiled back in what you hoped was an encouraging way, but the four lads and two girls that made up the rest of the audience were beginning to grow restless.
John was just starting to mouth something to you, something you couldn’t make out in the low light of the sports hall, when suddenly, Brian swung his arm and a shriek shot across the room and hit the back wall.
The sound reverberated through you, then Roger threw up his arms and brought them down again hard, the sound of the toms smacking the crowd with such force it took your breath away.
Freddie ricocheted across the stage, a tightly coiled spring finally set free. He thumped his foot in time with Roger, his microphone angled downwards as he held the gaze of everyone in the audience, almost like he was daring you all to try and stop him.
And beneath it all, beneath Brian’s soulful guitar, beneath Roger’s pounding beat and Freddie’s glorious voice, was the steady, faithful, perfect thrum of John’s bass guitar, keeping everything tied together.
You watched him with tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You weren’t even sure why. The sound was just so warm, so safe. The others were unpredictable and fantastic, but John, standing there with his eyes almost closed, his head tipped down towards the neck of his guitar, his legs parted in a wide stance, he was the heart and soul of it all.
“You were right. They are good.”
You turned your head and saw two boys whispering to each other, smiling at the music washed over them. Their enjoyment made you smile. You couldn’t be more proud of your delivery boy.
You didn’t take your eyes off John for the whole performance, which, with its limited audience, the band seemed to be treating as more of a rehearsal. They chatted between songs, swapping notes and fiddling with their equipment. That didn’t mean they didn’t give it their all though.
You kept waiting for John to turn and chat to you, but he kept his voice low, only speaking to his bandmates when they spoke to him first. Whether it was the nerves of the low turnout or not wanting to break the barrier between audience and performance, you weren’t sure.
It wasn’t until the last song that you remembered what John had said. Bedford College had been booked under his recommendation, he’d organised the whole thing and only six paying punters had turned up.
“Oh, New Boy,” You murmured, as the last notes of this shambles of a gig circled your head. “This is gonna set you back.”
The boys took their bows, nodding gratefully when you all applauded, then gathered at the back of the stage to talk.
Unsure of what to do, you hovered vaguely in the direction of the drinks table. The rest of the audience were either chatting, glancing hopefully towards the band or stuffing bags of popcorn into their pockets, while you stood alone, off to the side, feeling so awkward it was almost painful.
You wished John would just come over and say hi. You were a couple of years older than everyone else here and the only one who’d come alone.
A small voice in your head wondered if it would be better to wait outside, away from their watchful eyes. Would it be cooler to catch John on his way out? Or would he think you didn’t care? You worried your bottom lip, torn and uncertain of yourself, a feeling you hated above all else.
As you poured yourself a cup of water, you watched the band out of the corner of your eye. The boys were discussing something important in hushed voices. You wouldn’t be surprised if John had completely forgotten you were there, seeing as the snatches of conversation you could hear seemed to be about the low turnout.
You saw John roll his eyes, his lips pressed together with thinly-veiled irritation. But then he caught your gaze and his expression brightened, as if with relief.
To your surprise and no small amount of delight, John jumped down from the stage, his heels clacking against the worn wooden floor as he hurried over.
“Hey! Hey, Skip!”
You smiled awkwardly at a gaggle of teenagers with clothes much cooler than yours as John clomped over to you. Thankfully, Roger and the others had hopped down from the stage too now, capturing the kids’ attention, so you and John were left alone.
“Hey, rockstar! You-”
He’d jumped down from the stage so quickly that he still had his bass slung around his neck. With a move that would have your heart racing whenever you thought about it in future, John swept the heavy guitar behind him so that he could wrap his arms around you.
“You came!”
He held you tight against his chest as he laughed, so soft and sweet that only you could hear it.
“It’s so good to see you. Thank you for coming.”
John’s narrow frame felt so small against your own, yet you seemed to fit together perfectly. His long hair tickled your nose as he bent his head and rested his chin on your shoulder, his heart hammering in time with your own.
He smelt like sweat and cheap aftershave, and to your delight, a little bit like the bakery. 64 Oslo Square had a way of embedding itself in all your clothes, your hair, even, it sometimes seemed, under your skin. It didn’t occur to you until then just how much John had come to feel like home to you.
The thunk in your chest when he moved away jarred you for a moment. You’d been toying with his bass behind his back, tugging at the thickest string to feel the reverberations. You wondered if he could feel them echo from the guitar through his spine.
“Wow, you look...” John shook his head, looking you up and down so unabashedly that it made your face heat up. “I mean, you’re… Do you always..? You look… I’m-”
You smiled.
“Hi, John.”
“Hi.” He shook his head again. “Wow.”
Blushing and lost for words, you shook your cup of water at him.
“I was promised a beer!”
He laughed.
“Well, I did say ‘if you’re lucky’.”
“I should’ve known you’d cheap out on me. You could always buy me a drink to make up for it?”
“Then I’d be the lucky one.” John’s smile faded as quickly as it appeared. “I’m sorry about tonight. I promise, next time there’s a gig it won’t be organised by me and the room will be… Well, it’ll be better.”
“I thought you were amazing.”
It was John’s turn to blush. His gaze dropped to the floor as if it suddenly weighed a ton, his forehead all scrunched up and serious.
“Well, we’ve been working really hard. We rehearse almost every day.”
“It shows. But I meant… John?” You slipped your fingers under his jaw and gently lifted his head. “I meant you were amazing.”
Slowly, he began to smile again.
“Yeah?”
You laughed and squeezed his hand, hoping he’d be able to feel just how proud you were of him, as if the words were written on your palm, now pressed against his, a secret message just for him.
It must have brought back some of John’s courage because suddenly he said,
“You look beautiful.”
Taken-aback, all you could do was smile, bemused.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Not just tonight. Always. You’re beautiful.”
He pressed his lips together, almost like he wasn’t sure whether to say what he wanted, but then John huffed a tiny laugh, the battle in him an apparent surrender.
“I fancy you like mad.”
You couldn’t help it, you burst out laughing.
“Have you been drinking?”
“No! No, I’m just really, really nervous.” John pulled a face. “Actually, okay, yes, I might have had one little drink. Freddie says it’s good luck before a show.”
“Mm, Dutch courage.”
“I think his family’s from Zanzibar, actually.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Muppet.”
John grinned.
“Anyway, I- It’s mostly just- This’ll sound daft but I’m just really pleased to see you.”
You’d never seen a man so nervous. John could hardly hold your gaze. His skin, scattered with tiny beads of sweat, shone pale under the low lights, his fringe now plastered to his forehead from the exertion of the show. When he nervously swept at his hair, you could see that his hand was shaking. He looked like a dream.
“Not that daft,” you said, hoping he’d catch your meaning.
John’s usually impassive eyes softened just a little.
“No?”
Before you could respond, Roger appeared from nowhere and jumped on John’s back, clinging to him like a monkey as he laughed. When he saw you, Roger practically fell into you, his bandaged hands gripping the tops of your arms.
“You came!” Roger kissed both your cheeks with gusto, grinning from ear to ear. “I knew you would. Didn’t I say Johnny Boy? He was worried you weren’t going to show but I told him, I said to him, ‘Deaky,’ I said ‘That girl will be here front and centre and you won’t be able to string two notes together’. But didn’t he do well!”
Over Roger’s shoulder, John looked like he wanted to sink right into the floor.
You just laughed and gently peeled Roger off you. Lovely as he was, he was all sweaty too.
It was a nice glimpse into his character though, the others too, that even for a crowd you could count on two hands, they’d put everything they had into the show. You couldn’t imagine how John would look performing in front of hundreds, maybe even thousands one day.
“You all did brilliantly.”
As if he’d heard you thinking about him, John slipped his arm past Roger and hooked his fingers through yours. He dipped his head down so that he could speak by your ear, and though you were distracted by his warm breath on your skin and the knowledge that John’s fingers were so long, his fingertips brushed your wrist, you just about managed to catch him ask,
“Don’t suppose you wanna go for a walk?”
/
You ended up walking to the nearest tube station together. John simply slung his guitar case over his shoulder, waved goodbye to his friends, then led you from the sports hall with a hand pressed to your lower back.
You could still feel it now, even though he’d long since stopped touching you. It was like his handprint was seared onto your skin, warm and steady and surprisingly possessive in a way that made your heart pound. John was often so quiet and unsure of himself, the sudden surge of confidence was enough to make you dizzy as he guided you out into the night.
You wanted to ask why he didn’t say goodbye to his friends properly. You wanted to tell him again how wonderfully he played tonight. You wanted to tease him about the low turnout. But the hand that had felt so big and confident against your back kept brushing your own as you walked, and it was enough to stun you into reticence.
He surprised you again by breaking the comfortable silence first.
“No stars.”
John’s gaze was fixed on the dark sky. There were no clouds tonight for the first time in weeks, but still, the night was empty and lonely.
“No, it’s funny, innit. Completely black.”
“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”
“C’mon, you’re hardly a country boy.”
“There are more stars in Oadby than in London.”
John pulled at his thin red jumper, squaring his shoulders against the cold night air.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked.
“Are you?”
“Not in the slightest.”
You laughed and tugged at your scarf.
“C’mere.”
As always, John did as he was told. He stopped and bent his head so that you could reach up and wrap your scarf around his neck.
John mumbled a thank you as he buried his nose in the soft material. It smelt like you, of sweet things and good dreams. He rearranged the scarf around his neck so the cold air wouldn’t sneak inside the collar of his jumper.
“Is it my colour?”
Beaming, you flipped one of the ends over his shoulder, unable to ignore how good it felt to see him wearing something of yours.
“You know, I think it might be.”
John’s gaze fell to the pavement as he smiled. You could practically see the gears turning in his head and knew he wanted to say something. Your heart hammered at the endless possibilities of such a bashful expression. Before you could prompt him to talk, he raised his head and surprised you yet again.
“I’m so glad you came tonight. I know it was rubbish. I promise it’s not usually that depressing. We usually pull a pretty good crowd, actually. I was hoping you’d see that side of the band.” John’s gaze slid away out of habit, just for a second, then he was back. “Of me.”
“I’m glad I came too, you really were brilliant, John... To be honest, I was a bit nervous. I almost called to say I couldn’t make it.”
“Why?”
The bluntness of his question caught you off guard. You didn’t mean to admit that, but something about John and his clever grey eyes made you want to say things aloud about yourself that you couldn’t imagine telling anyone else.
When you didn’t say anything, John tilted his head to the side.
“When was the last time you went out?”
You opened your mouth but no sound came out. You realised you had no answer.
“Gigs aren’t really my thing, usually,” you said instead.
The station was just a few steps away but there was no one around, and the little shops that lined the street were empty and dark. Every house had its curtains closed. Even the Thames seemed to be whispering as it slinked past behind you, it’s waters endless and ancient.
You stepped back and leaned against the brick wall behind you, subconsciously putting some space between you and John. You pulled your coat around you, feeling suddenly vulnerable, and hoped he would think it was just from the cold.
The tables had turned and now the spotlight was on you. It was fun teasing John, peeling back his layers and getting to know the parts of him he didn’t often show, but you hadn’t expected him to turn it back on you.
John followed you, keeping close, and as much as you hated yourself for it, the proximity made your chest flutter.
“Not just to a gig. To a club or out for dinner, or something?”
Again, you said nothing. You didn’t exactly feel interrogated but John’s sudden interest was surprising. If it had been anyone else, you would have fought back, but his expression was so earnest, his voice low and gentle. He was asking because he cared.
John sighed, and for a moment he looked conflicted. You wondered if he was alarmed by his own actions, if he too was surprised by how much he cared. Maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe John just wasn’t used to expressing how he really felt. It was certainly interesting to watch.
“You work so hard. That bakery is going to be yours someday but it’s not right now.” John squeezed his eyes shut, like he always did when he was trying to think of the right words. “What I mean is, you’re young, you deserve time off, you deserve the chance to see your friends.”
“I don’t really have many friends.” Embarrassed, you quickly added, “Why do you care anyway?”
John took the tiniest step closer. He wasn’t quite invading your space yet but he was within arm’s reach. You had to raise your chin to meet his gaze now. It made you feel small, a feeling every instinct told you to challenge, but you held on, trusting John to know you and to understand your limits.
“Because I like you. I wanted to make you smile.”
John spoke matter-of-factly, as if it were obvious. Did he know what he was doing? Did he know that he was making your heart pound? Or was he just as uncertain as you, just as slow to fall and as quick to worry.
He sighed then, slipping his hands into his pockets. You thought you saw a little of his nerves slip away, as if he’d realised that he was asking for a lot of honesty from you without giving anything back.
“I know what it’s like to feel… Stuck,” he said.
“I’m not-”
“I know. I know. But you can miss a lot of living while you’re waiting for your life to start, you know? You’re… You’re kind, and beautiful, and you deserve to have some fun.”
He was right. You had been feeling lonely. The bakery was your whole life, you worked every day, you lived above it, socialised there… Now that he’d asked, you really couldn’t recall the last time you saw friends or went out and enjoyed yourself.
You let his words wash over you like warm water over golden sand. John cared. John saw you. John wanted to know you and help you and make everything better.
“That’s twice you’ve called me beautiful tonight,” you said.
For once, your forwardness didn’t make him retreat. John simply smiled.
“My turn.”
“Hm?”
“To flirt with you outrageously.”
“I don’t flirt with you!”
“Yes, you do! Outrageously! You’re a menace!”
“Is it working?”
John raised his eyebrows.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Pleased and blushing, you could only smile as you struggled to keep your eyes from drifting down to that intriguing mouth of his.
“You’re here because you just played an incredible gig to a heaving crowd.”
Even though it made John laugh, you couldn’t help feeling bad. You’d accidentally burst the bubble of tension building between you. Strangely, you missed it. You couldn’t help wondering what might have been, how much closer John might have stepped, how bravely you might have spoken if you’d let the moment go on just that little bit longer.
“Sorry about tonight.”
John shrugged.
“Something to learn from.”
“Are you always so..?”
“What?“
“I don’t know. ‘Easygoing’ doesn’t seem like the right word, but…”
“No point worrying about what you can’t change.”
“The others agree?”
“Rarely. On anything.” John looked down at the pavement again. “I think I’m different. From them, I mean. They all seem to slot together pretty well and I’m… I don’t know. The odd one out. I don’t really know who I am in the group.”
“Aren’t you the cute one?”
John huffed through his nose, shaking his head. You’d flustered him. With a smile, you realised you had the upper hand again.
“Have you seen Roger? He could charm a tortoise out of its shell.”
“Oh, he’s got nothing on you, New Boy.”
You pushed off the wall and stepped closer, and now you were invading his space. John didn’t move back though. He held his ground, his peculiar eyes fixed on yours.
“Mickey told me you said I was pretty,” he said eventually.
That stunned you for a second but you quickly recovered.
“Mickey’s an idiot.”
“So you don’t think I’m pretty?”
The street was completely empty, no cars, no people. There was only you and John, the only two people in the whole wide world. Under the amber light of a towering lamppost, you watched each other, waiting, daring, hoping.
At last, you said,
“I think you’re beautiful.”
John smiled, and you finally had an answer for him about where all those missing stars had disappeared to.
Feeling bold and drunk on the surreality of the evening, you asked,
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“No.”
“Mickey said you weren’t.”
“Yeah.”
“Gladys thought you might be.”
“I’m not, Skip.”
“Right. Okay.”
“Are you?”
“No!” You had to laugh. “No, no, I’m not. Not for ages. I mean, not ages. I have dated. But there’s not been anyone since- Not for ages.”
“Right.”
You watched each other again, just for a moment. John’s gaze dropped first. You knew to him it would feel like mere moments, but to you, the difference between his eyes on yours and his eyes on your mouth was staggering. It left you breathless.
When you stepped forward again, testing the waters, you were sure you saw John’s hand jump inside his pocket. What had its intended target been before he stopped himself? Had he felt cornered? Was it to press against his own racing heart? Did he itch to pull you in closer? You weren’t sure which option made you the most nervous.
His eyes were still fixed on yours though. John was a bundle of nerves but he was still here, he was still holding your gaze. What would happen if you took that final step closer?
It felt like an age before either of your moved again. It was John who finally surrendered.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Breathless and brimming with every emotion under the sun, you forced a grin that slowly became more real as your heart began to settle again.
“Yeah, see ya. Don’t stay up too late, New Boy, you’ve got about a hundred orders to deliver in the morning.”
John laughed and rolled his eyes, muttering something like ‘great’ or ‘can’t wait’ under his breath, but you were still recovering and didn’t quite catch it.
You stepped into the warm, stark entrance to the tube station together. John had to take the Circle Line, so you parted ways after passing through the barriers. You waved goodbye to each other, both of you feeling suddenly very lonely.
You were just about to head towards the escalator down to your platform when you felt a hand on your shoulder.
“Almost forgot.” John slipped your scarf off and wrapped it around your neck, then bent down and kissed your cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
He said your name, your real name, so softly and so lovingly that you could hardly believe it. Then he was gone.
You stared after him, bewildered and flushed and fizzing with delight. It felt like every nerve in your body was alight, even your fingertips seemed to be tingling.
It wasn’t until the station guard sent you a warning look that you realised you were blocking the way. You hopped on the escalator, still feeling dizzy.
You pressed your fingers to the spot on your cheek where John had kissed you, then let them slip down to where his fingertips had grazed your neck as he tied your scarf for you. Though you weren’t sure why, you looked back up the length of the escalator, back to the spot where you’d said goodbye.
“Fuck,” you said, and laughed.
//
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warriorteam1924 · 1 year
Text
Your presence is wanted at this ghostly ball
John Deacon feat Miss T. 
Author’s note : Hi my beauties. This piece is very special because it will surely be one i got to write before things get incredibly busy in my life, leaving me with full prompts in mind that i’d actually have to write. It is halloween theme as you might guess, given the date. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks in advance for the feedback (honest and real feedback of course, otherwise this doesn’t make sense at all) Also, I remind you English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes…. i didn’t have time to make any gif, so i took the one showing from here (X)
Warnings : my style of course, mentions of death, mention of paranormal. 
Summary : a ball to prepare to see someone....
Words count : 2.775 words words
Permanent tag list : @reavenedges-lies​  @thosequeenboys​ @born-to-lose​ @orionis8689​ @queenlover05​​ (please communicate with me regarding your desire to be kept on this list or not ^^ thank you) 
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It had been an exhausting day for John Deacon. He was supposed to attend this music conference, but of course, nothing went as planned.
 The organizers told him all would be very easy when he would arrive, that he would have nothing to worry about. How wrong had they been?
 His flight had been delayed, because of the fog. Of course, it was too simple to blame the fog, but still. It made him miss his connection so he had to book another seat for another flight. It was nothing lethal, but it was truly annoying.
 And of course, when he arrived, the organization was a real mess. And it seemed everyone who wanted to attend this conference knew this, because it seemed the rest of the population had a plan. The only issue John had was he didn’t have any.
 He thus left the conference center truly disappointed. He would only be able to attend the conference he was interested in within a few days and he had nowhere to stay for the night. Because, obviously, all the hotels and bed and breakfast were fully booked.
 He took his phone out of his pocket, prayed for his battery to last long enough and eventually found a place, a bit far from the main city, that was true, but at least, it seemed they had vacancies. John made a quick phone call and what appeared to be an old lady answered, reassuring him, letting him know he could stay there for as long as he needed.
 After what seemed to be an eternity, John eventually found a taxi and headed to the old lady’s place.
 As John expected it, it was a very old building, but he couldn’t care less. He only wanted a shower and a bed to sleep. He truly was exhausted.
 He paid the taxi, took his luggage out of the tuck and headed to the front door. He took time to stare at the place, but he supposed it was too late to run away now, even if the place appeared slightly gloomy.
 John knocked on the door and waited, trying to put a reassuring smile on his lips. He wasn’t sure who needed to be reassured, the old lady or himself.
 He heard footsteps behind the wooden door and what seemed to be several locks being unlocked. The door slowly opened and John supposed the old lady he had on the phone was standing before him.
 “Hello”, she said with her faint and old voice.
 “Hello, I’m John Deacon, I called in the afternoon for a room.”, John replied, maybe slightly too enthusiastically.
 “Oh, yes, I recall, I recall.”, the old lady nodded. “Please come in. May I take your luggage?”, she asked.
 John looked at her, frowning. She surely was willing to give her best to be a good hostess, but she looked like she was a million years old. John wondered how she would be able to take his bag upstairs.
 “Oh, no, please don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”, John eventually replied with a smile.
 “Please, come in then.”, she said again.
 John entered the house and felt reassured to notice the house didn’t smell weird. It was an old lady’s house, with too many knick-knacks on the shelves.
 “Everyone calls me Miss T., cause my name is actually unpronounceable….”, she introduced herself as she closed the door.
 “Alright, Miss T. it is then, and I’m John Deacon.”, John replied, giving her his hand to shake.
 She shyly took it and John shivered when he felt the coldness of her fingers on his. He tried not to shiver, hoping this unpleasant feeling would remain unnoticed.
 “Shall I show you your room?”, she showed him the way to the stairs.
 “Yes, please. I must confess I’m a bit tired.”, John replied.
 Miss T. headed to the stairs, walking quite slowly. Yet, it seemed she was a strong and proud woman, not really willing to ask for help, despite her age.
 “Don’t pay attention to the pranksters in the living room playing cards. If they’re too noisy though, just let me know, I’ll make sure they keep quiet.”, Miss T. said as they passed in front of the living room door that was open.
 John glanced at the room, noticing there was no one at all. It seemed he was the only customer. He raised an eyebrow, wondering if the lady still had all her marbles.
 He followed her all the same in the stairs, leading to the bedrooms. Who was he to state anything about an old woman he had just met? Maybe at her age, his mental state would be worse.
 She opened a door and John was surprised to see a neat and large room. Miss T. headed to the window to open the curtains, adding a natural light to the bedroom. It wasn’t that bad after all. The decoration was truly not modern and fancy, but the room was clean and the sheets seemed as soft as a woman’s skin.
 Miss T. opened another door and informed John it was his private bathroom. The man walked in to find a tub and the loo. Again, all was sparkling, giving the impression the place was extremely clean.
 The hostess also told John about the old wardrobe, letting him know the doors were a bit old but that it wouldn’t be a problem for a man with his strength.
 The old lady eventually took her leave, knowing John needed a bit of privacy.
 “Diner will be ready when you’re hungry. Just come downstairs and we will feast together.”, she said before closing the door.
 ‘Feast together’, John thought to himself. A bit awkward, he had to admit. He plugged his phone and noticed there was no network at all. He shrugged and left his phone on the bed. He headed to the bathroom, thinking he had deserved a hot bath after this long and boisterous day.
 The tub was so comfy he almost fell asleep. The place was also very quiet, adding to his sleepiness.
 As the water was getting colder, he eventually got out and dried himself. He put on cleaned clothes and headed downstairs. His stomach was starting to be slightly noisy.
 John looked around him, not sure where the old lady was, but a delicious smell guided his step to a large room where a big table was set. There were many plates and John wondered if Miss T. was actually expecting more company.
 “Miss T.?”, John quietly called.
 The old lady emerged from a door that seemed to be the separation between the dining room and the kitchen.
 “Oh, there you are. We were only waiting for you.”, she said with a smile.
 John was tempted to ask who she meant by we, but again, he kept quiet and replied with a smile. The old lady pointed at a chair and John sat. She disappeared behind the door and came back with a serving trolley. She put a few steaming dishes on the big table and eventually sat as well, right next to John.
 “You got a fair amount of trouble just for a diner, didn’t you?”, John politely asked, staring at the dishes before him.
 “Oh, don’t worry, I’m used to it. Please, help yourself while it’s hot.”, she said, giving him a large spoon and pointing at the dishes.
 John nodded and helped himself with what seemed to be some kind of stew. The man thought that given her age, the stews probably were delicious and he wasn’t wrong. His taste buds danced in delight with every spoon he was putting in his mouth.
 The lady was smiling and talking, as if she was replying to other guests. Again, John didn’t say a thing, not willing to be a burden.
 Miss T. eventually took the dishes back to the kitchen after making sure John had tasted a bit of everything. She came back with another serving trolley full of desserts and John couldn’t resist a slice of a lemon tart, that was also absolutely delicious.
 At the end of dinner, after the old lady had cleared the table, she suggested they could all play cards together.
 Again, John felt highly uncomfortable. It was obvious there was no one else but the hostess and his only guest. And again, John tried to remain polite and gently declined, letting her know he needed a good night’s sleep.
 As he expected it, the sheets were very soft and the mattress very comfy. It didn’t take him very long to fall asleep.
 John wasn’t really the type of guy to have vivid dreams, if ever he dreamt at all.
 And yet, this night, he had one of these dreams, the ones that felt extremely real and that gave one the impression that it truly had happened.
 John dreamt of this very place and this very bedroom. He recalled not being alone in this bed. There was a woman with him, so beautiful and so amazing that he wasn’t sure words could ever describe her. And in this dream, the two of them shared a moment of passion, a pure bliss leading to an intense ecstasy. It wasn’t vulgar, it wasn’t lust or giving the feeling it was something wrong. It was just love making and pleasure giving. A sensation John thought he would never know.
 He woke up in the morning, still sweating and hoping he hadn’t actually made a mess in the bed. Thankfully, it was all about his mind making things up.
 As the sun was starting to shine outside, warming the bedroom, John got ready and headed downstairs.
 He walked directly towards the room where he had shared his diner with his hostess. The large table was again set and John startled when Miss T. emerged from the kitchen, with her serving trolley.
 “Good morning, Mister Deacon. Right on time to share breakfast with us.”, she greeted him with a smile.
 “Good morning, Miss T. May I help you?”, John asked, getting closer to her.
 “No, no, please have a sit and enjoy.”, she kindly replied.
 Again, the dishes were full: sausages, eggs, toasts, cheese…. Anything anyone could eat for breakfast. And again, the old lady seemed to be talking to someone, but John couldn’t see anyone.
 “Ahh, I don’t know….”, she said with a mischievous smile, looking at John.
 “I’m sorry, what?”, John replied, his mouth full with cheese and toast.
 “Did you dream of the beautiful lady?”, the old lady asked with the same smile on her lips.
 “What?”, John started to cough as his food went down the wrong way.
 The old lady laughed and looked at the invisible guests around the table.
 “Seems like he had a nice time.”, Miss T. joked. “Don’t worry, Mister Deacon, no one here is judging you.”, she reassured him.
 There was an awkward silence and the old lady carried on eating a bit, nodding and staring at the empty seats around the table.
 Eventually, she got closer to John and whispered in his ear.
 “Now we’re alone. Did she come to see you last night?”, she asked.
 “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”, John firmly replied.
 “Come on, Mister Deacon.”, she said with a nod.
 “How do you know that?”, John eventually surrendered, whispering as well.
 “Would you like to see her again?”, the old lady asked, still whispering.
 “What? How?”, John questioned her.
 “We’re going to have a little celebration tonight. Some kind of ball as we used to call it back then. I can make sure she’ll be here so that the two of you can meet again.”, Miss T said, very calmly.
 John had a million questions running in his head. How could she know? Was anything of this real? Was he still dreaming? What was going on?
 The old lady was still staring at him with a smile. John looked at her, trying to perceive any trace of anything that could indicate the lady couldn’t  be trusted.
 “Would you like to see her again? She’ll be here only if you’re willing to see her….”, the old lady eventually spoke again.
 John remained silent again. After all, what did he risk? If it was only fantasy, there was nothing wrong with it.
 “Okay. I’ll be there if she is.”, John nodded.
 “Excellent.”, the lady offered her hand for John to shake it.
 Again, her hand felt terribly cold, but John didn’t mind.
 “Yet, this time, I wouldn’t be refusing your help….”, Miss T. said. She seemed a bit annoyed to confess it.
 “Help?”, John asked.
 “Well, you surely did notice I’m no longer the woman I used to be. I’m old and my bones are sore. But I like to keep this place alive and this little celebration tonight is yet another opportunity to see it full of life. I’d need your help to make sure the place is ready for tonight. You know, move some furniture, clean a bit….”, the old lady said, lowering her voice.
 John looked at her and sighed. He felt bad for this old woman living on her own and having to do it all by herself in this big house.
 “Of course, Miss T. Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”, John said with a smile.
 The two of them thus carried on their day together, Miss T. indicating what needed to be done and John complying. The preparation was interrupted by another delicious meal and at the end of the afternoon, the old lady was beaming.
 “This is going to be such a great celebration….”, she said with sparkles in her eyes. “You should take a bath and get ready for tonight.”, she nodded, before gently pushing John towards the stairs.
 John laughed and headed upstairs, feeling as light as a feather. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he was truly hoping for the best.
 He took another long bath, and fell asleep this time, given all the energy he had burnt during the day with Miss T. He woke up to the sound of laughter and music and people chatting. The sound was coming from downstairs. John rushed out of the tub, got dried and made sure to choose a nice outfit. He took a deep breath and headed downstairs.
 The place was beautiful and the guests were smiling and some were dancing. John greeted them with a nod, looking here and there to see if the beautiful lady was there.
 A moment passed, but John couldn’t see her. Maybe it was all a dream after all. He joined a few conversations, but his mind couldn’t think about anything and anyone else but the lady he had dreamt of.
 Eventually, he spotted Miss T. who was staring at him with a smile. He walked towards her, hoping he wasn’t looking too impatient.
 “Your celebration is going well Miss T. I hope you’re enjoying this as well.”, John kindly said, not daring to go straight to the point.
 “You’ve been enjoying the others’ company I see….”, she replied with a smile.
 “Yes, your guests are very pleasant, Miss T.”, the man confessed.
 “But don’t you think I have forgotten about you Mister Deacon.”, the old lady said with a smile.
 John couldn’t help but have a hopeful smile on his lips.
 “I’ll be right back.”, Miss T. said, and slowly walked out of the room, leaving John alone with his thoughts.
 He didn’t have to remain with them for too long though, since the beautiful lady appeared in the room, her presence eclipsing all the others’ in the room.
 She walked directly towards John with a genuine smile on her lips. John didn’t know what he was doing but he instinctively took her hand and brought her closer to his body. And as couples did in such celebrations, they started to dance. They didn’t say a word, the world around them had ceased to be. They only were staring at each other’s eyes, dancing in the night, sparkles in the irises.
 John had the feeling this night was endless but he didn’t complain. He felt nothing but joy, love, warmth in his heart. He didn’t care about anything. There was only her, this beautiful lady in his arms, dancing with him. Her soft skin against his reminding him of the ecstasy he had felt the night before.
 Little did he know that only his spirit was with the other’s that night. Because his corpse had been lying in the cold water of the tub and Miss T. was now dragging it outside to burry it, amongst the others.
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POV: Touring with Queen and taking photos of Roger
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orobeori · 2 months
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I was going to add more panels of a synchronized strangle attack by team broppy, but decided that enough was enough...
Anyhow here's how I think the battle at Mount Rageous should've gone, with the lovely happy trolls using the hair as weapons of destruction </3 I know that Branch is in his healing era but I still think he would've resorted to his more violent methods somehow (this time with Poppy's full support).
Also, the reason why Viva's still using the sticky hands is because of this one hc I saw that the Putt-Putt trolls lost the ability to stretch their hair due to malnutrition :D
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michelle-is-writing · 2 years
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Interruption, Roger Taylor
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Word Count: 1.2k~
Since I've been dating Roger, he's never been gone for longer than six months; however, at the moment, he's been gone for almost nine months. I knew what I was getting myself into when Roger and I began dating, and I'm not mad at him, not at all. Currently, I miss him to the point where I would consider myself to be craving him. I've missed his arms around me, his lips on top of mine, and his body pressed against mine... I have really, really missed him.
Because today is the day he's coming home, I'm yearning for him even more than I have been these past few weeks. The phone calls and postcards he sends can only do so much - especially when you can't physically touch each other. I loved talking to Roger during those times, but it made me miss him even more. There wasn't one call that I hung up on and didn't feel sad for the rest of the day.
Hearing a key be put in the front door, I turn my attention away from the mindless soap on the telly and toward the door where the handle begins to turn after a few seconds. Smiling, I stand from the couch and rush to greet Roger as he tugs his destination-sticker-covered luggage behind him into the flat. As soon as the front door closes, I throw my arms around his waist and pull him close, only to feel Roger slam his lips on top of mine as his pale arms harshly tug me to him. Apparently, he missed me as just much as I missed him, if not more.
With a tug of his arms, I feel Roger pull me off of my feet, causing me to instantly wrap my legs around his hips and slide my arms around his neck as I continue kissing him. Forgetting about his luggage, Roger walks forward until we reach our shared bedroom where he falls backward onto the mattress, making me pull away from his lips and laugh, now straddling him with my legseach side of him.
"God, you are ravenous!" I joke, making Roger laugh as well. Smiling, he places his hands on my hips and squeezes them before resuming kissing me. It isn't long until his hands slide from my hips and up my stomach as they tug on my shirt, prompting me to nearly tear it from my body. While I do that, Roger takes the chance to tug his off as well, our bare abdomens now pressed against each other as our lips go at each other like animals once again.
Panting with flushed chests and cheeks, our hands roam each other's bodies as Roger slides his tongue into my mouth, only for the phone beside our bed to begin ringing. Choosing to ignore it, I continue kissing Roger until he slowly stops, looking up at me with an amused smirk. "You should probably answer that," He tells me, making me laugh a little.
"My mother can call me anytime. Now come back here!" I joke, leaning down to recapture his lips with mine. Once again, before I can resume kissing him, Roger dodges my attempts by jerking his head with laughter each time.
"It could be one of the guys too," he exclaims, lifting his hands to softly rest on each side of my face.  "You might want to answer that in case it's something important," Roger adds, looking up at me with his big blue eyes and soft smile with now slightly swollen lips.
After a few seconds, I roll my eyes and let out a groan while flopping onto the spot beside him, landing on my side so I can purposely turn my back to Roger. Reaching over, I grab the green receiver and take it off the hook before holding it to my ear. "Hello?" I ask, already knowing who's on the other end.
"Hi, darling," I hear my mother's familiar voice. I love my mum, but why did she have to call at this exact moment? "Has Roger gotten home yet? Safely?" She asks just as I feel a hand slink onto my hip once again.
"Yes, he has gotten home safely, mum," I tell her, Roger's hand pushing me to lie on my back. "He's going to be home for around six months before he's back on the road-" I cut myself off with a gasp as Roger's lips find their way onto my neck, sucking a deep bruise onto the flesh there before moving onto another spot.
"Oh, dear, are you okay?" My mum asks, making me immediately shut my mouth as I turn to glare at Roger. Smirking, he stares up at me while his mouth lingers over the skin of my neck, the area slowly turning red which will soon be purple after a few minutes. He knows what he's doing, and I seriously doubt he has any intentions of stopping.
"Yeah, mum," I answer her, turning my eyes toward the ceiling in an effort to not become distracted by Roger's beautiful blue orbs. "Just stubbed my toe. That's all."
"It doesn't sound like you're walking," My mom replies, making Roger chuckle beside me. Lightly slapping his shoulder, I hear him laugh again, but this time, he's a bit surprised by my slap.
"Yeah, I'm actually going to the bathroom," I lie, desperate to feel my lips back on Roger's soft ones. "Mind if I call you back?" I ask, hearing her respond almost immediately.
"Yes, honey, go ahead," She tells me, making me nearly let out a sigh of relief. Only a second passes before I hear a click on the other end, causing me to almost throw the receiver back onto the hook. Before I can throw my leg over Roger and resume our original position, Roger quickly takes the chance to move over me and lean down on top of me, his face level with my chest.
"Are you going to call her back?" Roger asks as he begins placing gentle kisses down the valley of my chest, my hands finding their way to his naked back.
"Eventually," I tell him, holding back a gasp in response to his soft lips against my skin. Roger chuckles at this, only to cut himself off with a slight moan as I begin lightly dragging my nails against his back - something he loves. "You are the only thing on my mind right now," I tell him, smiling as his hands find their way to my hips, his fingers hooking onto the waistband of my pajama bottoms.
"The feeling is mutual," Roger murmurs before finally tugging the cotton shorts down my legs. Although, before he can progress in his actions and do anything else to further tease me, the phone begins ringing once more. Because Roger's closer to it, he sits back onto his knees and grabs the phone before answering it.
"Hello?" Roger asks, his eyes flickering to the ceiling before almost immediately going down to mine, a small, quiet laugh tumbling out of his lips as he begins shaking his head. "Hello, mum," He replies to the other person on the phone, making me grin and shake my head. Even in our twenties, our mums still tend to kill the mood.
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jacqcrisis · 2 years
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Award to this man for the funniest take ever
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riisitee · 6 months
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Immortal Decadent After the Ball
If you can't tell, this is based on a painting by Ramon Casas called Decadent young woman. After the dance. (More about it at the end)
Also version with out glasses:
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Click to see them good details
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The original painting:
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"Decadent young woman. After the dance", 1899 by Ramon Casas
I was looking through my folder of paintings, thinking if one of them could be turned into fanart. I found this one and thought it would fit Crowley very well. Well, turns out the name makes it even more fitting! The Incident in Good Omens That Broke All of Our Hearts, happened after a dance/ball (the painting is also known as "After the Ball"), which is just incredibly serendipitous.
Also of course everything about the pose, the dark clothes and the red hair just screamed Crowley to me.
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wonryllis · 11 days
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⌇ YOU'RE MADE OF, ANGEL DUST 𓍼 ﹙ PRINCESS TREATMENT ﹚
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. . ──𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌.
﹙ 𝒘𝐞𝐛 ⭑ 𝒅𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝓁𝓈. ﹚ enhypen being the rhys larsen to your bridget. fem!r. fluff, fluffffff and fluffff. requested. wordcount` 1907. アーカイブ ARCHIVE?
PLS REBLOG!!!!
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𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆
gives you his coat, heeseung always makes sure to be properly dressed to accommodate you. taking out his warm fuzzy coat for you to wear when you're cold and don't have enough layers to when you need his jacket to cover your lap while seated, your dress riding up. although he absolutely loves having his hands on your tender skin, kneading your thighs when you sit beside him to his arm hooked at the curve of your waist able to feel the heat off your body; he'd rather have you feel comfortable and free.
holds all your stuff for you, like your jacket when you're too hot and don't want to keep it on anymore, your heels when your feet hurt; his big shoes switched with your dainty heels that are a bit too small for his feet, your purse with all your makeup and tissues and glasses and sunscreen and everything you think you need; in his hands the moment you step out the door. and it's not like you have to say anything, he just does it himself first.
let's you raid his place, the spare key, the passcode, his schedule, you know everything and you are always free to show up and use his house however you want to. you can empty the fridge and dirty the kitchen trying to cook, mess up the living room and heeseung would come back and ask you if you had fun, in fact his fridge is filled with things you love and the cabinets are filled with appliances you like to use to experiment the recipes you come up with.
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆
opens doors and helps you sit first, the car door, the restaurant door, the cafe entrance, your apartment unit door literally every door he possibly can he opens and stands back to let you walk through it first. and then when you reach the table, he's pulling your chair to help you sit first before bringing the drinks you want or the desserts you like or ordering the food. in the car he'll open the passenger door for you, and offer his hand to hold onto while you get inside and then put on your seatbelt for you.
buys you anything you want, that little dress that caught your eye at the mall but they were out of your sizes, the necklace you saw in a tv commercial that you seemed to like a lot, the heels you said looked good on one of the fashion magazine models, it's all in your bedroom in a week. literally any thing that you show interest in, jay makes sure you have it one way or another. asking you to doll up and do a pretty show for him.
takes you out to wherever you want to go to, you have to just mention it even if it's in the passing and jay will take you there as soon as he can. from little dates in a new bakery to destination vacays nothing is impossible when it comes to you. the new restaurant with months long reservation and holiday stops that have all year round bookings everything is at you feet in an instant flick of a finger.
𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍
gives you piggyback rides whenever you ask for it, when your feet hurt, when your heels break, when you twist your ankle, when you're tipsy, and when you just feel like it, jake is always ready to hold you against his back, arms hooked under your knees, one hand holding your shoes, heels, slippers. and all he asks for you to keep giving him kisses every two seconds to charge his fuel as he races you down the road while you both giggle and laugh.
let's you do anything with him, a wide range of things. experimenting with makeup on him, tying his hair into little ponies, dress him in funky outfits, drag him to little places any time of the day, from cute manga cafes to fancy dinner reservations he has no idea of (but he's paying for it, he swears) he just loves being your boyfriend it doesn't matter what you do.
buys you anything that reminds him of you, he sees a little penguin plushie that looks a little too much like you, he's getting it. he sees a dress he thinks would look way too pretty on you, he's getting it. he finds a cute plant he thinks you'd love to have in your room, he's getting it. he comes across a bunch of fresh flowers he knows you'll be so happy to receive, he's getting it. he finds a lotion that smells like you, he's getting it (for himself lol) and also he'd absolutely buy anything you said you wanted, he'd rather descend to hell than let you buy anything yourself.
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍
drives you everywhere, college classes and weekend internship to girls' night out and midnight cravings. he'll put alarms to be right on time to drop you off wherever you'd be going and then later waiting for you outside your university gates, at your workplace, by the night bar to pick you up and get you back home. always waking up at once when you tell me you want to eat something and immediately taking you there in the middle of the night, telling you to sit wherever you want or wait in the car while he gets you your food.
let's you borrow his clothes and accessories, he absolutely hates the idea of his clothes touching someone else skin unless it's you. allows you to just grab anything from his closet you'd like without any need to ask him ever. sometimes he'd even pick something himself and ask you to wear it for him, to cover it with your soft scent. showing off to his friends when he wears that saying my girlfriend wore and it smells like her, pretty right?
takes pictures of you anywhere you go, most of times he'd be tagging along with you with his professional camera he got in a limited edition just to store photos of you. he'd carry it everywhere you go together and click random candids and spontaneous videos. always asking you to pose pretty for him and taking pictures until you're satisfied. later editing it in a long video he plans to surprise you with. a heartfelt video, a look into you through his love filled eyes.
𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎
gets you your favorite food and desserts any time of the day, he knows everything you like and he knows when you want it too. always surprising you with it whenever he gets the chance. looking up new places to take you to, exploring all kinds of food and sweets. making special reservations in places famous for dishes that are to your taste. bringing you new baked goodies in the middle of the day or at the break of dawn. plus point if you asked for it he's getting you that within an hour.
makes you special handmade gifts for special occasions, he thinks it carries more meaning if he puts in efforts to prepare something from scratch for you, so that everytime you look at it you think of him. like a little couple bracelet, or custom perfume, or crocheting you a pretty top. and if he bakes something for you he'd always film your reaction eating it, his laughs and giggles recorded along in the background. the special little moments of simple love where you both make each other happy over the tiniest things.
ready to learn anything just to please you, from short time hobbies you pick up like drawing doodles and gardening plants to taking professional classes like pottery and ballet. he'd do just about anything to make you happy, tagging along as company so that you can share even more interests together. he'd also take secret candle making classes when you start getting obsessed with them to make you his own ones. using scents that'll help you feel relaxed.
𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍
brings you flowers and small gifts every week, he needs to see you smile uncontrollably at his actions and what's better than to give his pretty girlfriend receive pretty flowers, always making sure to get a new bouquet before that last one withers. and anything he sees, tiny little small things that remind him of you and that he thinks you'd love he'll buy immediately and show up at your doorstep to give it to you with a short sweet cute handwritten note along with it. sometimes he'd hide it and put directions all around the house for you.
fixes your clothes and helps you put on your shoes, he loves loves and loves being able to be of help to you, fixing the hem of your dress or skirt when it hikes up, tugging the straps of your crop tops and sundresses when they slip off, tying the strings of your backless tops if they come undone. removing your hair out of the way when it gets stuck under your clothes, tucking in your bra straps when they accidentally show, you just gotta doll up and jungwon will make sure you look best. sits you down before going out, getting on his knees to slip on your heels or sneakers himself.
always has a hand on you when you're outside to make sure you're safe, makes sure you're always on the side away from the road, his hands on your waist to hold you in case you'd trip and fall or someone pushes you. hands on your thighs, when you are in some restaurant, or holding your hands even if he's busy talking to someone else around the table. he just loves to hold you. it's become a habit at this point.
𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈
buys an extra of things you use a lot, anything that you seem to have a habit of using, he'll look thoroughly and get or order it to keep it with him in a small bag he takes everywhere with you. and when you seem to forget to bring yours, he's pulling it out his pouch and handing it to you. your regular cherry lipgloss or your shea butter lotion or your peach scented handcream, your compact powder, sunscreen stick, aloe wipes, your soft fragrance deo, apple mints you much on and just about everything.
patiently waits for you to get ready, he will wait for a million gazillion years for you, and only you. sitting on your bed or outside your room, either watching you or taking candid pics or just looking through his phone. even if you take an entire hour deciding an outfit he'll sit with a grin and help you choose, telling you his thought on each option. even if you end up wearing something you totally said you wouldn't in the end he's just happy to be of any help.
let's you use his account to play games, his life lies in his game accounts, but if you say you wanna try playing something he'd sit you with him and teach you how to play, encouraging that you're doing so well even if you're making an absolute blunder. if you insist on multiplayer mode he'd definitely let you win, happy to see you happy. and if you mess up something on his account he won't say a word. he can just do it again.
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taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @enhaswirlds @enhasnuggles @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @belowbun
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spookberry · 7 months
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The monster high couple ever imo
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