#John Deacon fanfiction

[eileen-crys]

"Whatever This World Can Give To Me" 💖

A wonderful commission I had the pleasure to draw for @blossom-melina-burnickel 🥺🥰 as the cover of her beautiful and heartfelt fanfic! She let me choose among her stories and this one is definitely my favourite, her writing is seriously underrated and I hope that my artwork will boost it even just a little bit 🥰💕💕💕

In October and early November 1977, John Deacon is preparing to leave on tour with Queen to the United States in support of their latest album, News of the World. He is conflicted about leaving on tour because while he loves traveling all over the world and playing for the fans, he is hesitant to leave his wife Veronica and their young son Robert on their own for six weeks because Veronica is pregnant with their second child. Veronica reassures John that she and Robert will be fine when he’s gone, like they always are, but John feels conflicted about leaving regardless.

In the artwork I thought of representing both John's daily family life that he's living in the present and the upcoming tour with the band that's already a constant in his mind, as that duality is the central theme of the fic.

I want to thank Blossom once again for commissioning me and for her patience 😅💖💜💕💖💜💕💖 And please go check her beautiful writing on AO3!!!

Please do not repost or trace. Reblogs and comments are always welcomed! 💜

[rogertaylorsgirl]

imagine being roger’s first real girlfriend. the members of the band would be so shocked at seeing him so committed to someone. of course, they would try and piss him off, talking about how much he’s whipped for you. but are they wrong? absolutely not.

this man would do anything for you. you could ask him the entire universe and he would make sure you had it. every time you would walk in the studio, he would leave the drums so fast and come to hug you, while the others complain about finishing the damn song.

you made him softer, sometimes he hated that, but he couldn’t do anything about it. you helped him calm down during one of his famous tantrums and you also made him romantic. he wasn’t the type to cuddle or show too much affection before, since the girls he dated were nothing serious, but now with you it was all different. you had changed him for the better.

[warriorteam1924]

My body’s aching

John Deacon x Veronica Tetzlaff

Author note : Hello my beauties. I'm back for John's birthday of course !! I’ve been super busy lately and I’m aware it’s not my best piece, but  I hope some of you will enjoy it anyways. Thanks in advance to anyone who will be giving honest feedback, it’s always very appreciated. Also, I remind you English isn’t my mother tongue, apologies in advance for the mistakes.

Warnings : none really, just my awful writing. and a slight sexual innuendo…. 

Summary : a slight problem on a birthday morning

Words count : 1,243 words

Permanent taglist : @reavenedges-lies​ @thosequeenboys​ @born-to-lose​  @orionis8689​ @queenlover05​​ (communicate with me regarding tagging please)

As he usually did, John Deacon went to bed at a reasonable hour that day. He kissed his wife goodnight and got comfy under the cover, the fresh air coming from the window cooling the room’s atmosphere. He wasn’t thinking at all that the following day would be his birthday. Not that he didn’t care at all, but at this very moment, all he wanted was a good night’s rest. After all, he was going to be 72 in a few hours, he had to take care of his sleep schedule, since he wasn’t 23 anymore.

Dreams. John didn’t have many of them, or at least it didn’t recall them very much.  A few fragments, snippets of actions or moments in the blur, faces or vague figures but nothing more. All he knew was that he moved a lot during his sleep, and apparently it was according to his dreams, to the actions he was making while he was in dreamland. His wife never complained about it, she just mentioned it a few times, curious as for what her husband could have been dreaming of.

This night, Veronica noticed her husband was particularly agitated, and hoped he was not having a nightmare. Thanks to the weak light that was in the room, she looked at his face, ready to wake him up in case he was in distress. But his face seems happy, more than happy even, so Veronica gently kissed his cheek and went back to sleep.

John was also usually an early bird, waking up first in the house. He usually went downstairs to make coffee and this day being his birthday didn’t mean he would have waited to be served like a kid on his special day. Just like he did every morning when he was waking up by her side, he looked at his wife for a moment, as she was still slightly snoring, gently rocked within Morpheus’ arms. He turned around to get up.

“OUUUUUUUUUUUUCHHHHHHH”, John let out a loud scream of pain, brutally waking his wife.

“Oh my God, John, are you okay?”, she asked, terribly worried.

“My back, my back is stuck, oh lord it hurts so bad, what the hell???”, John explained, complained and cursed all at once.

“Are you able to move at all ? what’s going on?”, Ronnie asked, still incredibly concerned.

“I can’t, I’m stuck….”, Deaky said as he put back his head on the pillow.

“Hold on, I’m gonna get some painkillers right now and I’m going to try to massage you”, his wife said as she energetically went out of bed to get what she needed to help her husband.

John looked at her, with a mix of anger given how quickly and easily got out of their bed. She rapidly came back with a glass of water and a painkiller, which John put in his mouth right away. He swallowed, as his back was still tense, hoping the tablet would be efficient soon.

“Okay, turn around now.”, Ronnie firmly said.

“Excuse me?”, John replied, raising his eyebrow.

“I’m gonna massage you, silly. Shoo, turn around”, she repeated as she made a motion with his hands to illustrate her words.

“Oh, no Ronnie I’m going to be fine, don’t worry.”, John said, trying to avoid a massage.

“John Richard Deacon, you better lay on your stomach right now or else I’m going to do it myself and I’m not going to be gentle.”, she warned him, very seriously.

John looked at her, confused. Was she really going to use force to give him a massage? He wasn’t sure, but she seemed extremely serious. As a result, John complied, gently laying his stomach, waiting.

He felt his wife’s soft hands on his skin, making him shiver.

“I hope my hands are not too cold…. Where is it painful?”, she asked, this time way more gently.

“My lower back seems stuck….”, John replied, his head between two pillows.

“Okay, let’s see….”, Ronnie carried on, as she put some lotion on her husband’s back.

John slightly arched at the sensation, but tried to remain still, so that the massage, combined to the painkillers, would be useful. Deaky suddenly heard his wife giggle.

“Are you mocking me?”, John complained, his voice muffled given his position.

“No no, of course not. I just had this silly thought of me being a Dom right now, doing erotic stuff to you….”, she explained, tittering again.

“Ronnie, do you really think this is the right moment to think about sex?”, John asked, as he was still feeling his wife’s hands massaging him on his back.

She got closer to his ear, whispering : “it’s always the right moment to remind my husband I love him and I still have a strong desire for him”.

John felt his cheeks suddenly getting hotter and probably as red as the most mature tomato one could ever see. As a reply, he only let out a soft ‘hum’, a smile still appearing on his lips.

And then, all of a sudden, and since his wife had mentioned the topic, John remembered. Fragments, like he often did, but he remembered.

He remembered a passionate moment with his wife in his dream, his skin pressed on hers, the ardent kisses they were sharing, his hips rocking on hers.

And he remembered how his last thrust as he was reaching orgasm made him arche his back strongly. His body surely moved as well as he was dreaming, hence his back blocked as he woke up.

“John?”, Ronnie asked. “The massage is done, are you okay? You’ve been very quiet”, she worried.

“Yes, thank you, honey.”, John replied, as he got into a more comfortable position, to breathe properly.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re as red a as tomato?”, Ronnie asked.

“Yup, all good, I’m feeling better already. I’m be up soon.”, John tried to reassure her.

Yet, the two of them had been married for a very long time now, and even if Ronnie was no mind reader, she knew her husband so very well. She looked at him in silence for a few seconds and a smile appeared on her lips.

“We did have a steamy night in your dream, right? And you took me so intensely that your back got stuck, right?”, she asked, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“Oh god, Ronnie, what the hell?”, John tried to fake being shocked after her insinuations.

“Try and tell me I’m wrong. After all, there is nothing to be ashamed of…. Even in our vows, we said ‘I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.’….”, she reminded him.

“Yes, okay, yes, that’s true. Happy?”, John confessed, his feeling switching from being ashamed, and slightly irritated.

Ronnie was still looking at him with a mischievous smile. She got closer and kissed him on his soft lips.

“Try and get better so that after the kids are gone, we can celebrate your birthday properly, just the two of us.”, she said with a wink.

She got up and left the room, leaving John with his thoughts. He spoke out loud, as if he was warning his back.

“You better get back on the right tracks buddy, because tonight’s gonna be the night….”.

That day was surely to be a very unusual birthday….

[eileen-crys]

The Johnica week is getting closer! 🥰💕

Don't forget to check the event's blog to see extra prompts, ideas and to ask anything!

Welcome to the 4th Johnica Week! I can’t believe it’s already the fourth edition and I’m so happy to have still lots of talented artists and writers joining the event and keeping the fandom alive by contributing (also) to the growth of this wonderful couple 🥰💕💕💕

When is the event? 📆

This year’s Johnica Week will be a bit shorter, only four days, in order to keep entries more collected, avoid burnout for those faithful creators who want to challenge themselves and join everyday, and for everyone who loves to read fics but has less time on their hands. The event will start on Sunday 15th January and end on Wednesday 18th January, aka John and Veronica’s 48th wedding anniversary!

Where? 🔎

Here on Tumblr, on AO3 and also on Instagram for visual artists!

💚 Use the tag #JohnicaWeek2023 in your entries here and on Instagram!

📚 > Here will be the AO3 COLLECTION where to post your fics! <

💚 Tag @eileen-crys​ and/or @johnica-weeks​ in your works so I can read, see and share them!

📚 At the end of the event I’ll make a Tumblr masterlist with all the works!

2020 Masterlist | 2021 Masterlist | 2022 Masterlist

The Theme 📚 

You’ve read it right, this year Johnica Week has a theme, linked to the 46th wedding anniversary, that is BOOKS. Like all the prompts, it’s up to you to follow the theme or not, consider it just as a general theme that you could build your entries around. I chose some prompts that might fit this theme, that are about books as physical objects or as idea for an alternative worldbuilding.

How? 🖼

You’re encouraged to join with your preferred creative media or challenge yourself with something new! Fanfictions, drawings, comics, poetry, collages and photo edits, moodboards, anything you like! More in the RULES below.

Like all Ship Weeks, this is a fandom event to share love and creativity related to a particular couple, so be sure to engage with the entries and support all the artists and writers that chose to join! Reblog, leave likes/kudos and comment on the artworks to keep the fandom alive! 💜💖💕💜💖💕

Continua a leggere

[queenpolyweek]

Poly!Queen Week 2024

Poly!Queen Week welcomes you all back!

When: 11-13th October 2024

Where: our AO3 collection and Tumblr

Prompts:

Day 1 (11th October, Fri)

Miyazaki/Ghibli AU

“I am old, but still a child”

Flower crowns

Memory loss

Getting a tattoo

Day 2 (12th October, Sat)

LOTR AU

“Thinkin' it right, doin' it wrong”

Cosplaying

Hand holding

Nightmares and daydreams

Day 3 (13th October, Sun)

Bridgerton AU

“A soul for sale or rent”

Swimming

Keeping a secret

Quitting

Rules:

Share your fic in our collection on AO3 and @ us here on Tumblr. Additionally, you can use the tag #QueenPolyWeek2024

All forms of fan-work are welcome

Romantic, queerplatonic, platonic, a secret other option, you decide! You can read more about poly relationships here.

Your ship should include at least three people, and one of them must be a member of Queen

The prompts are just guidelines, use them or don’t, it’s up to you!

Support your fellow creators

Do not engage with hateful comments

Do not interact with NSFW/18+ content if you’re a minor

Good luck to everyone and most importantly, have fun!

If you have any further questions, feel free to contact us!

This event is organized by Kaakson/@carrrothead-vol2 (PolyQueen 2023) and wordsoflove (PolyQueen 2022)

[spreadyovrwings]

64 Oslo Square

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

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

Warnings for this chapter: smut! slight sub/dom dynamics, i guess, i'm never sure, i just like being bossy. john gets topped, and i do mean topped!

A/N: i'm so sorry! i’ve been gone for ages! i've just got a million hyperfixations and they all take up a lot of energy you know how it is but but but hopefully this makes up for it

//

Chapter 11

Sweat beaded your skin, clammy and tight. Every breath you drew in was lukewarm and fetid, half someone else’s. Your feet hurt and your head was pounding and the floor was sticky beneath your new shoes, but you hardly noticed any of it.

John was pressed tight against you, and it was all you could think about, all you could bring yourself to focus on. His narrow body felt angular and hot; you could feel the heat coming off of him through his clothes.

It was Saturday night. The bakery had been yours for exactly six days. John had been yours for even longer. Now, pressed up against each other in a tiny Camden club, you could finally celebrate both.

The music was so loud, it had risen to a dull hum, pop music you were faintly aware of but didn’t know the words or the steps to. You weren’t being modest when you said you weren’t much of a dancer, but John didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his hands hadn’t left your body since he pulled you onto the dance floor, and he had enough moves for the both of you.

It had been an exhausting week, but the kind of exhausting that left your muscles glowing and your chest full at the end of the day.

Universities had finally broken up for the summer, so John had a lot more free time, and he’d spent most of it hunched over Gladys’ desk, running through 64 Oslo Square's accounts. He’d made it his solemn duty to uncover exactly what kind of impact Alastair had had on the bakery.

John was right, that night he walked you home and off-handedly wondered how the bakery could possibly be struggling considering it never lacked customers and the area was so affluent.

It turned out Alastair had been funnelling money out of the business for months, ever since he met Gladys. He had sought her out, plucked her from the vine, and pressed her between thumb and forefinger, squeezing her for all she was worth with a vicious smile.

Now he was gone, the bakery had come to life again. John found money ferreted away in all sorts of places, stored away for hard times, or just in case things went south for Alastair. Luckily, John’s astute head for numbers and figures got there first, returning what had always been yours back to you, like transposing music for one instrument to another.

Before too long, 64 Oslo Square could raise its head again. You didn’t have to beg for new kitchen equipment. You didn’t have to pray for a pay-rise. The scarlet front door could be painted for the first time in years, Mickey didn’t have to worry about taking care of his young family, and Gladys could hire more help, allowing you your first night out in almost a decade.

You met after work. John went home to shower and get changed, giving you time to figure out what on earth to wear on your first proper date with the boy you’d fallen in love with months ago. You kept having to remind yourself that you hadn’t actually told him yet; something about John’s pretty green-grey eyes made you lose all track of time.

When he picked you up, John looked less than pleased. Laughing softly at his turned-down mouth, you slipped a hand over his shoulder and pulled him down to your height so that you could press a kiss to his cheek.

“Alright, New Boy?”

“Hi, love.” John sighed. “Look, I’m really sorry.”

Frowning, you ushered him into your flat.

“Already? We haven’t even made it out the door yet.”

You smiled, hoping to reassure him, and it seemed to work. But John still looked troubled despite the little smile he summoned in return.

“C’mon, then. What’re you sorry for?”

With another, frankly dramatic sigh, John flopped down onto your couch like a sack of potatoes. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, splayed outwards in a ‘V’, his platform heels digging into the carpet.

It had been a while since he’d been in your flat. John looked so funny, collapsed on your couch. He was so tall and gangly, he made all your furniture look smaller, and tonight he was dressed up to the nines, his hair perfect, huffing and puffing on your second-hand sofa.

“I was telling Roger about tonight, you know, asking where we should go because he- And now-”

“He’s coming too?”

“And Freddie.”

John looked so despairing, you had to laugh. He looked like a teenager who’d been told he had to bring his little brother along to a party.

“I’m really sorry. I did try to tell them this was our first proper date but they’d already started planning what they were gonna wear, and you know what they’re like, I- We can just make this a night out, this doesn’t have to be-”

“John,” You spoke his name softly, gently, settling down on the couch beside him with an easy smile. “It’s alright. I really don’t mind.”

“You sure? We could always go to a different club or something. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t notice.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. I like your mates. And hey, you know, we can always lose them in the crowd.”

Brushing your fingers along the seam of his black satin shirt, you pushed your fingertips in, just below his shoulder, squeezing gently, reassuringly, insinuatingly.

“You said you’ve got moves,” you murmured, your fingers dropping to play with his hair. “You gonna put on a show for me tonight?”

John’s ever-steady gaze never wavered, even as you curled his pretty hair around your fingers.

“Maybe I’ll treat you.”

His voice cracked when you “accidentally” tugged on his hair.

“Ohhh,” You grinned. “Lucky me.”

And now here you were, moving against each other in the dark.

John really did know how to move. It just came naturally to him. The music flowed through his veins, his heart beating in time with the pounding bass, and all you could do was watch him and admire the nice boy who’d so softly changed your life.

He bought you a drink, then another, politely refusing your offer to get the next round in.

As predicted, you lost track of his friends almost immediately. You’d almost forgotten you weren’t there alone until John leaned down and murmured by your ear,

“D’you wanna get some air?”

There was no mistaking the intent behind his words, the way they wrapped around you, the spark they lit in his dark eyes despite the low club lights. Your pulse raced, your body reacting to every touch, every look, just the proximity of him, the promise of his presence.

What he meant was, do you want to go home? And you did. You couldn’t imagine wanting anything more in all your life.

/

John’s back hit the bakery door with a dull thunk. Giggling softly against his mouth, you apologised over and over, half muffled as he tried to kiss you between laughs, reassuring you that it was fine while his big hands pawed at your hips.

He tasted so good, you couldn’t bear the thought of moving away from him for even a second, so you fished around in your bag for the door keys without once breaking the kiss.

After several shaky attempts (thanks to John tugging your bottom lip between his teeth) you managed to turn the key, and together, you fell into the shop.

Stumbling backwards in his stupid platforms, John clung to your hips for support as you guided him through to the kitchen.

The thought of getting the next door open seemed too mammoth a task to even attempt at that moment, so instead you backed John up against it, pressing your body as close to his as you could, until you had almost been consumed by one another.

The protruding angles and flat planes of his narrow body felt sharp and unfamiliar as you sank into each other. Your mind swam with the endless possibilities; running your hands over his slim chest, kissing across his stomach, your hands keeping him pinned down with the slightest squeeze at his hips.

Every niggling worry you’d ever had about being good enough for John, about being with someone for the first time in years, about trusting someone with all of you, it had all washed away. All that remained was a chest fit to burst with love, and a desire so strong, it was all you could do to stop yourself asking if you could just have him right there and then.

John could obviously sense where your mind was wandering to, even as he moaned softly into your mouth. He squeezed your waist, then your hips, kissing you so deeply, your knees threatened to give way.

“We can’t do this here,” he managed to gasp out between kisses. “Not in the bakery.”

When you huffed a little laugh, your warm breath fanned across his cheek and he couldn’t resist the shiver that slipped down his spine.

You smiled against his mouth, pointed and pleased with yourself.

“My bakery now.”

John groaned roughly at your soft, low voice, and again as your tongue pressed against his. He opened himself up to you, letting you take his mouth as you pleased, his breathing growing heavy.

He couldn’t decide where he wanted his hands, they were everywhere, in your hair, pressing into your back to keep you close, tugging at your hips, his touches waking up your body and making your head spin.

“It’s always been yours.” John’s dark gaze met yours. “And so have I.”

You laughed, airy and quick, hoping to disguise just how much that meant to you, but John knew, John always knew. The last thread keeping your doubt and your fear yolked finally snapped.

Taking your keys from your hand, John half-turned to open the door, his free hand still palming and squeezing at your hip.

You tripped up the stairs together, giggling and breathless in your eagerness.

“You have too many doors,” John muttered when you reached your flat. “It’s like a bloody funhouse in here.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, John.”

He pressed the keys into your hand then tucked himself behind you so that you had room to unlock the door. Or so you thought. A shiver ran over your skin when you felt John’s breath on your bare shoulder, then his lips against your neck.

As he mouthed at your hot skin and grazed you with his teeth, you shakily jammed the key into the lock, finally managing to wiggle it open just as John dragged his tongue over a spot that made you want to completely unravel.

There was no time to savour the ritual of undressing each other, neither you nor John had the patience for it right now. Instead, you practically tore his pretty satin shirt open, dragging the sleeves down his arms as you backed him up towards the bed, never once breaking the kiss.

“Oh God,” John laughed softly against your mouth when the cuff of one of his sleeves got caught on his watch. “Hang on, love. I’m not going anywhere, you know.”

“I know, but I’ve been wanting to do this to you for months. You can’t blame a girl for being impatient.”

“‘To me’?” John grinned as he shook off his shirt. “You mean ‘with me’?”

You just smiled and pulled him back down to kiss you.

Head still spinning from the nightclub, the rum in your blood, John’s aftershave, John’s everything, you hardly noticed him slipping his long fingers under the hem of your dress and pulling up and up and up, until you begrudgingly had to stop kissing him to let John pull it over your head.

“Oh, wow.”

It was all you allowed John before you planted both hands against his chest and pushed him into sitting on the edge of the bed.

You kicked off your uncomfortable shoes and got rid of your bra, and all the while John watched you with warm, full eyes, his mouth hanging open.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and for the first time in your life, you believed a boy looking at you.

“Yeah?”

Your movements slowed under his heavy gaze. Something about the look on John’s face made you want to take a breath.

When he raised his hands, you moved closer without a word, standing between John’s knees while he looked up at you in awe.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured as he dipped his head to press a kiss to your sternum.

When his fingers pressed into your bare skin, you tensed, sucking in a sharp breath.

John looked up at you curiously, his clever grey-green eyes so clear and bright.

“Sorry,” You smiled. “Not used to- It’s been a while. Not used to being touched there. Feels a bit…”

“What?”

John punctuated his question with a soft kiss pressed sweetly to the swell of your right breast. His other hand came up to cup the other gently, his thumb sweeping across you, circling and circling, his sharp eyes never leaving yours.

“The last boy…”

“The idiot?”

You smiled.

“Yeah, that one. He didn’t really like the way I looked.”

“What’s not to like?”

John frowned.

It wasn’t really question but you felt the need to explain.

“Kept trying to “help” me. Used to piss me off no end. Eventually, he stopped touching me. Wasn’t seeing him for very long but he was the last person…”

John shook his head, his brow furrowed, his funny mouth all turned down at the corners.

“I can’t believe you gave him the time of day.”

“Well, he had his own car...”

“Fair enough.”

John briefly smiled, then he shook his head again, as if he couldn’t even joke about it.

“I’m glad you’re shot of him. Means I get you all to myself. And to me, you feel soft…”

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the middle of your belly, taking his time, dragging his teeth, his eyes closed to savour the feeling.

“And warm…”

Another kiss, this one to the left of your navel, while his fingers pressed into your hips and tugged you closer, until the tip of his nose was buried in your stomach.

”And inviting…”

Cheeks burning, you slipped your fingers into his hair, grazing your nails across his scalp.

“John…”

John’s stare met yours as his hands slipped round to squeeze your arse, pulling you closer still. His open mouth split into a grin before he bent his head to drag his tongue across your skin.

“You’re perfect. You’re so beautiful, love.”

It wasn’t often you were left speechless, but if anyone was going to manage it, it would be John Deacon.

You bit your lip, shaking your head to yourself, as you quietly watched him press more and more kisses down the centre of your stomach.

“Been wanting to touch you like this since the first time I saw you.”

John had spent so long thinking about kissing you like this, imagining how you would feel, how you’d taste, the lovely sounds you’d make, how your body would feel against his, and now he’d got his answers, he never wanted to stop.

You laughed as you closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against your shoulders, giving yourself up to him. It was hard to focus, so you just let him press little kisses all over your body, round your hips, across your belly, down your thighs, until his fingers slipped between your legs and you gasped, electricity shooting through your veins.

Biting back a smile, you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and pulled it up between you, like you’d caught him stealing. The excited smile was wiped from John’s face when you leaned in close and murmured against his neck,

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, sweetheart.”

“‘s funny,” John stretched his long fingers out, splaying then relaxing them again, testing the strength and limit of your grip on his wrist. “I thought I was exactly where I needed to be.”

“‘Needed’?”

“Mm hm.”

“Not ‘wanted’?”

“The two get sort of mixed up when I look at you. You’re very- You make them, erm, homonyms.”

“I think you mean ‘synonyms’.”

“It’s hard to concentrate with your tits in my face.”

“Fair enough.” You smiled. “We’re getting off topic.”

“Are we?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been talking?”

“John!”

He laughed when you batted his shoulder.

“Love, I can barely remember my own name right now.”

“You were getting ahead of yourself.”

“Actually, I do remember disputing that.”

“Of course you do.”

“What’s your point, love?”

“My point is,” You carefully placed your knee on the mattress beside John’s hip. “I didn’t say you could touch me there.”

John’s eyes switched excitedly across your face, but his easy smile faded as you straddled his thighs, settling in his lap.

You sighed and looped your arms around his neck, curling your fingers into his thick, dark hair.

“I didn’t realise-” John swallowed when your bare chest pressed against his. “I had to ask permission.”

Feigning confusion, you frowned quizzically, and all the while, you slowly grazed your nails across John’s scalp. He shivered against you, his muscles shifting beneath his pale skin.

“We’ve known each other for almost a year, John. Have I ever given you the impression that you’d be calling the shots here?”

There was a point in his neck, neatly positioned between his shoulder and his protruding collarbone. You could see the steady, perfect bass line of his heartbeat pulsing under his skin. It jumped when you rolled your body into his.

“Couldn’t help myself,” John let his heavy eyelids close, focusing on keeping his breathing even. “Did I mention you’re beautiful?”

You tilted his head back and kissed him, your tongue rolling over his, too riled up to wait for permission. You kept his chin up with your hand against his throat, the pad of your thumb pressing into his thready pulse.

Kissing John was unlike anything you’d ever known. Other boys grabbed at you, pressed selfishly into you, taking what they wanted and not caring how it felt for you. They were too rough, unimaginative, or simply just looking for a way to stave off boredom. But John…

As John’s lips moved against yours, it felt as if you were speaking the same language as someone for the first time in your life.

Skilled hands smoothed up and down your back, finding every part you wanted him to find, every part you wanted him to warm, as if he could read your mind. His lovely nose bumped yours whenever he turned his head and you could feel his smile every time you made an appreciative sound.

He was attentive, thoughtful, just like you knew he would be, just like he was when he played. He might look like his mind was elsewhere, but John was honed in on every note. He knew them all, he knew you too.

You must’ve shifted just where he needed you, must’ve slotted your body against his in just the right way, because John suddenly broke the kiss with a wet sound that made you swear under your breath.

He cut you off with a low, sonorous moan, his soft lips parting so you could see his pretty, pink, antagonising tongue.

“Just like-” He groaned again and this time his big hands found your hips, moving you so that you rocked against him just like he needed again. “That feels good. Shit-”

You could feel the hard outline of him through his stupid tight cord trousers. The friction alone was enough to send thrums of electricity through your body.

You hummed, pleased with yourself. You were admittedly a little rusty. Before tonight, you had half a mind to warn John just how long it had been since you’d been intimate with anyone, but it appeared you hadn’t lost the knack. Either that, or John was extremely receptive.

Beneath you, he moaned and let his head fall forward until his face was buried in your chest, his voice vibrating through you. All you were doing was rocking your hips into his, tugging on his hair, grazing your lips by his jaw. Yes, very receptive. You couldn’t wait to get your hands on him properly.

Then again, you had never dared to ask how long it had been for him either. You weren’t stupid, John had been with girls before you, at home, at uni. He’d never mentioned anyone. Maybe there was no one worth talking about. Anyway, everyone in your life seemed to agree that when quiet, thoughtful, reticent John finally did speak, the only thing he wanted to talk about was you.

You kissed him again, twice, three times, then squeezed his shoulder.

“Get comfy. I’ll stick some music on.”

You wobbled to the record player on unsteady legs and put on something soft and slow, warm and romantic.

When you came back, John had shuffled up the bed until his back was against the headboard. He looked so silly, sat there shirtless, his trousers and heels still on.

His sharp eyes followed you as you moved around the bed, but John wore an enormous grin, his face flushed, his slim chest heaving. He was the prettiest thing you’d ever seen.

“Did you mean to say that out loud?” John asked, his smile growing.

In an effort to mask your embarrassment, you wrapped your hand around one of his ankles and gently tugged him round until his legs were hanging off the side of the bed.

Giggling together, you hefted his leg up to your waist and pushed up his trouser leg.

“I love these shoes,” you murmured, admiring his black and white patent heels. “You’re such a bloody tease, Deacon.”

Sitting up on his elbows now, John raised his eyebrows as you started to unlace one of his platforms for him.

“You like them?”

“Like them? I’m trying to decide whether I should make you leave them on.”

You took off one shoe, then the other, dropping them to the floor so you could kick them under the bed. His trousers came off next, leaving you both in just your underwear.

You said it yourself, you’d known each other for almost a year now. That was a long time to wait to touch each other. John seemed to agree.

As you settled back in his lap, his hands immediately found your hips, pulling you down so that you could feel exactly what you did to him, and the infinitesimal strands holding the last of your reservations together finally snapped.

“You’re so pretty.” You murmured the words against his lips this time, so he knew you meant it. “I love your mouth so much.”

Curiosity sparked behind John’s eyes, and you wondered if anyone had ever said anything even remotely similar to him before.

With one hand resting on his narrow shoulder for balance, you took the other and dragged the pad of your thumb across John’s bottom lip, taking your time. They were a little chapped, he was always worrying them between his teeth, and a shade darker than usual tonight, bruised by your own.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been wanting to play with this pretty little mouth of yours?”

John’s eyes widened, his lips falling open as a soft moan escaped him, one you were sure was completely involuntary.

Beaming, you reached down between you and wrapped your other hand around him through his straining underwear.

Those eyes again, they gave away so much. John’s expression hardly twitched, but his eyes grew glossy and heavy as you worked him, purposefully slow, until he had completely melted into you.

“Goddd, feels so good…” His eyes rolled closed, his jaw slack. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

With the tip of your index finger, you grazed his bottom lip, then dipped in a little. John cracked his eyes open, you could feel him watching you with interest. Breathing shakily, you kept going, parting his lips to gently push your finger against his tongue.

“What do we say?”

John’s brow furrowed, summoning up a crease between his eyebrows that you couldn’t resist kissing away.

“Please,” he gasped out.

Your finger slipped into his warm mouth with ease. John immediately swirled his tongue around it, whimpering and moaning as he sucked gently, so needy for you that his hips bucked up into your hand

“Oh, dear…” you practically purred. “Someone’s eager.”

John groaned around your finger, his eyes widening when you added another. He squeezed your hips in time with every stroke of your hand, silently urging you to keep going while his mouth was occupied.

Once he’d got them nice and wet, you pulled back your fingers and drew your index along his bottom lip.

“Good boy,” you whispered, then popped your fingers into your own mouth to taste him with a moan. “You’re even sweeter than you look, my darlin’.”

John thought he must’ve died and gone to heaven. That was the only explanation for it. How else could he be here, with you, your lips against his and your hands anywhere you wanted them?

You kissed both his pink cheeks, then the corner of his lovely mouth, and all the while, you palmed him through his stupid tight pants.

John looked up at you like it pained him to not have your mouth on his properly, but your hand pressing firmly down on his hard length pulled his expression from agony to ecstasy.

“Love, if you don’t do something soon, I swear, I’m gonna-“

“What?”

You removed your hand, eyebrows raised.

John bit his lip, trying heroically to hold back, but he couldn’t help it. He let out a disappointed whine.

“Love…”

He bucked his hips, trying to press himself into your hand.

Satisfied, you carefully clambered off him.

“Mm, that’s what I thought.”

“Wait…”

John tried to pull you back into him but you distracted him with a deep, searing kiss, keeping his brain occupied so your hands could work.

Though he missed you being close to him, John couldn’t keep the grin from his face as you pushed him down flat on the bed, his head safely nestled against the pillows.

In his chest, his heart was pounding like a bass drum. He wanted to shout so your neighbours could hear. He wanted to run to the windows and declare to the whole city that this was the greatest night of his life. He wanted to tell the world that he was the happiest he’d ever been and he was in bed with the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. But he settled for gazing up at you and thanking his lucky stars.

Kneeling beside him now, you took a moment for yourself to just enjoy the scene before you. It was selfish really but you thought John could stand to wait a few seconds while you took him in.

His long hair was spread out across the pillow, dark curls that took hours to set just right. You smiled to yourself.

He was a walking contradiction. He was such a low maintenance boy, so happy to do whatever you wanted to do. No fancy clothes, no ridiculous car, no expensive bad habits. But John cared about how we looked. He cared about doing well at uni. He understood music better than most and cared about Queen’s future. He just never made it anyone else’s problem.

It was only in the last few months that you’d really seen him open up. You couldn’t wait to discover the rest of him. ‘Easy Deacon’, they used to call him. Everything just came so naturally to John. You knew that wasn’t exactly true, but the thought of having a good, kind, lucky, sensible boy in your life, in your bed, might just be the most wonderful thing that ever happened to you.

“Can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about this,” you said.

John swallowed thickly when you pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, then his sternum.

”Oh, yeah?”

He was still so slim, even after all your best effort. You could pick out each of his ribs as John sucked in a deep breath.

Kissing your way down his chest, you paused to rest your chin over his heart, trying to feel for it.

John’s head was thrown back, his jaw high and his neck exposed, so he didn’t see your fond smile, or the pang of emotion behind your eyes as you turned your head, aching to hear the rounded, powerful, thump thump thump of his heart.

It pounded harder than you expected. You could almost feel it pulsing against your cheek, strong and full and just for you.

“You’re having palpitations, Johnny.” You raised your head and caught his eyes. “You wanna stop and catch your breath?”

John exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh, there was no humour in it. He obviously didn’t think that was funny.

“If you stop now, I think I’ll pass out.”

“Well, can’t have that.”

You kissed your way down his chest, taking your time, savouring the feeling of his hot, flushed skin against your lips.

You took note of every muscle twitch, your ears pricking at every sharp intake of breath. Learning what made the famously stoic and impassive John Deacon moan and squirm was going to be fun.

You peppered more kisses down his chest, taking the time to flick your tongue across both nipples, just to make John’s hips stutter. Face flushed, he groaned almost in protest, but didn’t move to stop you at all.

You pushed further, kissing your way down his stomach, until John was half giggling, half whimpering. He bit down hard on his lip, his long fingers reaching out and finding a home in your hair, where he tugged ever so gently, like he was trying to spur you on but didn’t want to risk making you stop again.

“Love, that…” John hissed through his teeth as you licked a stripe up his belly. “That tickles.”

You laughed softly.

“Does it? Sorry.”

“No, don’t b- Ohn…”

You looked up at John, the skin just below his navel still caught between your teeth. You let it go slowly, dragging at his skin, and all the while you watched his pretty face contort and soften, his teeth practically embedded in his bottom lip.

“Sorry, what was that?”

John huffed, his fingers tightening in your hair as you kissed down the front of his underwear, slow and hot, teasing him on purpose, drifting so close to where he desperately wanted to be touched, but never quite there.

Enough torture. You hooked your fingers under the waistband of his pants and slowly dragged them down his pale thighs, pausing only to place kisses on either side of his bony hips, and the contrasting softness of his inner thighs.

“Just relax, Johnny. It’s only me.”

You smiled against his skin, watching his face contort and shift as you tugged the waistband of his underwear down against him, a mean trick but worth it for the soft little noises he gave in response.

“I’ve got you, love. Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

John whimpered, his chest rising and falling fast. His eyes stayed fixed on yours as you pulled his pants all the way down, until his aching cock was pressed against his stomach.

“Oh, hello,” You laughed, disguising just how embarrassingly turned on you were with a quirked eyebrow and a wobbly smile. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

Despite his nerves, John huffed a little laugh too.

It had been a while since anyone had seen him like this. Somehow, it felt like the first time. You were the most important thing in his life, the most beautiful, wonderful person he’d ever known, it mattered what you thought, it mattered that you liked how he looked.

He watched you take him in, watched your pretty eyes cross his body, and for once, didn’t feel self-conscious under someone else’s gaze. John knew you wouldn’t care what he looked like but he couldn’t help blooming with pride, his cheeks prickling at the pleased look on your face.

John sucked in a sharp breath as your hand wrapped around him, moving up and down his length slowly, almost absent-mindedly, while you soaked up every new detail exposed to you, every new valley and slope, memorising every detail of his body until you could see him behind your closed eyes.

Then you squeezed him, testing the boundaries of his patience, and John lost all sense of bravado and decorum. He groaned, letting his head drop back against the pillow, panting now.

“Fuck, sweetheart, please…”

You tilted your head to the side, feigning obliviousness.

“Please what, love?”

“Just, please…” John moaned again, his hips pressing up into your hand, searching desperately for more pressure, friction, anything. “Please touch me. Feel like I’m gonna…”

You didn’t get to hear the rest, John’s eyes suddenly widened and he put his much larger hand over yours.

“Wait, this isn’t right. I should be- I should take care of you first.”

“What? Because it’s the gentlemanly thing to do?”

“No! Well, no- No, that’s not why I’m asking. I want to make you feel good. I should get you off first.”

Somehow, even though you had his dick in your hand, hearing John talk about ‘getting you off’ made you go all bashful.

“Why should you?”

“Well,” Looking oddly relaxed for someone in his position, John sat up on his elbows. “It’s just maths, innit.”

“Don’t say ‘innit’, you’re from Oadby.”

“I’m finally picking up the lingo. My point is, it’s maths.”

“Is it now?”

You smiled and sat back on your knees.

John’s eyes followed your hands as they left his body to drag across the mattress. Being cheeky had been a risky move and he’d miscalculated, you weren’t touching him anymore. He’d have to make sure it was worth it.

“I’m a bloke. You can cum again and again and again, but I get one shot at this. Two if I’m lucky… Three would probably kill me.”

“It’s tempting right now.”

“I’m just saying,” John’s grin was toothy and silly. He looked about the most relaxed you’d ever seen him. “I’d like to get a few in before I, you know, close up shop.”

“Well…”

You carefully placed your hands on either side of his body so that you could move over him. Placing your knee between his thighs, you leaned in close to murmur against his lips.

“How’s about I take care of you, properly. Like I’ve been thinking and dreaming about doing for… Hm, when did you start at the bakery?”

“30th January.”

“Right. Six whole months, John.”

“Almost seven.”

“Almost seven! Yes! Y’see!”

You kissed the tip of his nose, then his cheek, while John laughed softly, nuzzling his face against yours.

“How about… I take care of you. And then you can - what was it you said? - make me cum again…”

You kissed him.

“And again…”

Another soft kiss that made John’s whole body light up.

“And again…”

The rough pads of his bass-bitten fingers grazed your scalp as John slipped a hand back into your hair, keeping your mouth fixed to his, as if letting you move away would be allowing you, the night, that moment, to disappear.

Moaning softly into your mouth, John ran his tongue over yours, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You’re very persuasive.”

You grinned, feeling silly and happy and safe.

“‘s just maths, innit.”

“Mm,” John nodded and kissed you again, then pressed his nose to yours. “Sounds much better coming from you.”

“What was that about ‘coming?’”

“Oh-hoh, you’re on fire tonight.”

“Well, let’s see, shall we?”

You wrapped your hand around him and swallowed his surprised groan with a deep, slow kiss, matching the movement of your hand with your lips.

John shuddered beneath you, gripping you tight as your thumb absentmindedly swiped over the head of his cock.

Completely lacking all composure now, John’s hips jerked up into your hand, chasing a high you couldn’t wait to give him.

“You’re so fucking pretty, John.”

Cheeks tinged pink, he turned and buried his face in your forearm.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“It’ll-” He choked, his hips jumping into your hand. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

Smiling, you leaned down to kiss him slowly.

“That’s kind of the point, pretty boy.”

The only sign that he’d heard and understood you was a keening moan.

John shut his eyes, his brow furrowed like he was concentrating, the same sweet little frown he got when he played the bass.

Your cheeks were starting to ache, you were so smiling so broadly. With one knee, you gently nudged his legs further apart, then hooked your hand under one of his knees so that his foot was firmly planted on the bed.

John opened his eyes but there was nothing behind them. He blinked at you, his mouth open, his pale, slim chest heaving. He had just enough wherewithal to ask,

“What..?”

Still smiling, you swapped hands, getting him off with one while you slipped the fingers of your dominant hand into your mouth.

John’s pretty eyes dropped to follow your hand as it fell between his thighs.

“Trust me?”

He bit his lip, eyes wide, when you circled his entrance, massaging it. You could feel his whole body seize up immediately, like you’d electrocuted him. Then, just when you thought he might ask you to stop, he said,

“Yes.”

It was only a whisper, so you made him repeat himself, just to make sure.

John nodded furiously, repeating ‘yes yes yes’ over and over as you pushed your finger against him.

John’s legs instinctively rose to hook around your lower body, his ankles crossing almost delicately behind you while he gasped and huffed, kneading at your hips to keep himself grounded as you gently worked him open with one finger.

You swallowed his hiccuping moan with another kiss, keeping him distracted, getting him used to the unfamiliar feeling.

“Relax, sweetheart,” you said, dropping your other hand to soothingly rub his thigh. “Just wanna make you feel good. Can you take over, sweetheart, while I..?”

Without loosing a beat, John’s fingers brushed yours as he wrapped them around his cock. You gave him one final squeeze before you let go.

You could wiggle your finger around now, and you worked a second in, twisting and scissoring, dropping little words of praise and encouragement when John began to grind down on your hand.

“Ohhnfuuck…” he moaned, his head flung back to expose his neck.

You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, watched his pulse jump under his jaw, and felt a swell of affection when John moaned your name. His tried to speak but his voice cracked, punctuated by sharp gasps whenever you pushed that little bit further.

“That’s it, pretty boy. That’s it. Just like that, sweetheart.”

Keeping your fingers moving steadily, you bent your head and nipped at his belly, then his pelvis, making your way down until you could nudge his hand away with your nose.

John seemed to begrudge the thought of letting go but you kissed his fingertips, then the base of his cock, and he released himself with a frustrated whine.

“Love, I’m-”

You stopped him complaining by dragging your tongue up the underside of him. John completely melted under your touch, his voice wobbling uncontrollably as you swirled your tongue around his head.

“Sweetheart, please, please, please-”

“Please what, Johnny?”

“Please don’t stop, please please please don’t stop, feels so fucking good when you- Ah!”

Though your muscles ached, you couldn’t imagine stopping now, not with John begging like that, so you shifted the position of your hand.

“When I what, honey?”

The new angle made John tense up again, his wispy little fringe now sticking to his forehead. But then you took him in your mouth, licking him clean and sucking at his swollen tip, and his whole body went slack.

“Ohhhn, when you fuck me like that.”

You couldn’t help it, you moaned around his cock, long and half feral, the vibrations making John’s eyes roll back.

Still your fingers fucked into him, stretching and pushing towards a pleasure that John wouldn’t have believed was possible, and then you hit a sweet spot inside him that made his back arch off the bed.

“Right there,” he gasped out, eyes squeezed shut, his body trembling. “Right there, that’s it, right there, right there. Don’t stop, don’t stop, please.”

”I won’t, I won’t. I’ve got you, sweet boy.”

He took himself in his hand again, squeezing and tugging. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. Seeing John like this, completely at your mercy, his mind completely disconnected from his body, it made your belly twist. He was completely yours, this was all just for you.

John cried out, begging you to go faster, so you did, and his hand sped up to match your thrusts. He squirmed against you, rocking his hips so he was practically bouncing on your fingers now.

“Ohhh, love,” You beamed against his bony hip. “You gonna cum like this, baby boy? With my fingers inside you?”

John half moaned, half laughed, almost in disbelief.

“God, I fucking am. Love, I’m-”

You leaned over him to brush his hair back from his damp forehead and kissed him softly, only slowing your thrusting fingers so that you could crook them inside him.

“C’mon, love. C’mon, Johnny, cum for me.”

Always so eager to please. Your only warning was one last sharp jerk of his hips before he suddenly came with another broken moan. It sent a jolt of white-hot desire curling in the pit of your stomach.

John’s grip on your hips was so tight, he was sure to have left bruises, and all the while he whimpered and called your name, his face flushed and pink.

Feeling just as breathless, you kissed and kissed him until John’s body slowly collapsed under you. You carefully drew back your fingers, just barely biting back a moan when John weakly protested.

He pulled you close, but it wasn’t enough, so - still gasping and buzzing with pleasure - John carefully guided your arms out from under you so that you had to lay on top of him, your bodies completely intertwined.

“You’re-” John kissed you lazily, his mind still somewhere out past Saturn. “That was amazing. You’re so beautiful. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He barely knew what he was saying, he just had to let you know that you’d made him feel more than he ever thought possible. He couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else other than right here, right now.

Content and warm, you buried your face in his neck, catching your breath as John dragged his hands up and down your back.

“You were so good, John. Thank you for letting me take care of you.”

He smiled. He couldn’t believe you were thanking him. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He couldn’t believe crossing the road to see about a job had led him to this. In bed with you, just before dawn, sweaty and sticky and exhausted and gasping for breath, John felt like he’d finally found the home he’d been looking for all his life.

“Yeah, well, it’s your turn next, sweetheart. Give me two minutes and I’ll do the same for you.”

“Just two? Look at you.”

“You’re very inspiring, what can I say.”

You smiled against his skin, pressing your thighs together at the thought.

You considered getting up to open the window and let in some fresh, cooling air. You wanted to help John get cleaned up before the next round. More than that, you wanted to lay back and let him kiss down your body, till he’d seen to the mess he’d made.

You kissed him again, slow and languid. There was no need to rush. You had all the time in the world.

/

The bakery was alive again.

Like a pot set to boil slowly, incrementally over time, you hadn’t realised how anaemic the place had become until it was too late. Almost too late. With Alastair gone and the summer at its peak, 64 Oslo Square was back to its former glory, a shining jewel at the far end of Kensington High Street.

You kneaded dough with motions you knew by heart. There was a rhyme and rhythm to it, a particular push of your hands, a drag of your fingers, a dig with the heels of your palms.

You rolled the dough between your hands, forming and shaping it like a potter at their wheel, until it was the perfect consistency to divide and drop into proofing baskets.

There was music in the air. Mickey’s old radio oozed out Diana Ross, Tony Orlando, Free and Bowie, and he sang along to every word. How he knew them all by heart, you’d never know, but he never skipped a beat.

Equally vocal was John. He was leaning against the kitchen island, where he was supposed to be making butter cream. Instead, he had his head in the book he’d just bought, a textbook he’d need for his second year. He’d been reading out passages he thought were particularly interesting, and you and Mickey had been trying your best to humour him.

John recited a particularly convoluted paragraph, and Mickey actually laughed at how ridiculously complex it sounded.

“Hang on, say that one more time?”

You brushed off the flour from your hands, watching it cascade through the air like gold dust in the morning sunlight.

“Yeah, no, sorry, sweetheart. You’ve lost us.”

John turned the book around and held it up so that you could see the page he was reading from.

“Here, have a look!”

“My love, that might as well be written in Greek for all the sense it makes to me.”

“Well, some of it is Greek. It’s Physics.”

Behind you, meticulously icing fruit tarts, Mickey snorted.

You shot John a wry look.

“Well, I walked into that one.”

John turned the book back to face him.

You watched him with a fond smile, then pushed the loaves you’d made into the oven.

He got this look on his face when he was talking about his studies. John was completely in his element. All the nervousness and shyness dissipated when there was simple, honest, unconditional science to talk about.

He shrugged, shutting the thick book with a heavy snap.

“I know it’s boring-”

“It’s not boring, John, I just think it’s wasted on us.”

“Don’t be daft, you’re the smartest person I know.”

“Ta!” Mickey chimed in.

You ignored him, though it was nice to see Mickey so cheery. The last few months had been hard for all of you, but he had a family to worry about, a newborn, a mortgage. Now Alastair’s heavy chains had dropped from your ankles, the bakery was making enough for you all to live a little more easily, and Mickey had started to whistle again, bright and cheery and carefree.

While the bread proved, you set about preparing tomorrow’s croissants.

“The smartest person you know besides you, you mean,” you said to John, picking up the conversation again while you went to grab the right ingredients.

“Well, what else am I here for? Aren’t I the brains?” John smiled. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

Grinning now, you tapped his thigh as you passed by.

“Don’t forget the legs.”

“I thought that was you?”

“Ohh, someone woke up in a good mood.”

“Wonder why.”

John reached out and tried to pinch your hip but you just slipped out of reach.

Plunking flour, eggs and sugar down on the metal counter, you took a deep breath before falling into the pattern of a lifetime. It was all second nature by now, like the steps of a dance or the words to a favourite song. You’d never forget the moves for as long as you lived, you could probably make them blindfolded, with one arm tied behind your back. It was good to be back.

“C’mon then,” You nodded to the textbook in John’s hands. “What else you got? Anything that’ll get you mixing faster?”

John huffed, lifting himself up to perch on the edge of the counter.

“It’s thanks to this book that you even have a mixer.”

“Oi, watch it, New Boy. I’m your boss, remember.”

John grinned at you across the island. It was an almost challenging look. Come shut me up. Come kiss me. I know you want to.

“Can bosses get the sack for fraternising with the staff?”

Startled, you looked over your shoulder at Mickey. You’d almost forgotten you weren’t alone in the kitchen with John.

Mickey tugged a cigarette down from where it had been tucked behind his ear and flicked it up, catching it in his mouth just to show off. He raised his eyebrows at you, then at John.

“I only ask cos I got an earful this morning I’m not gonna forget in an ‘urry. It’d do me a favour if you were legally obligated to never, ever do that again. At least while I’m in earshot.”

Cheeks burning, you refused to look at John.

Images of that morning flashed through your mind.

You had to be up early to get the bakery warmed up, and John needed to get on his stupid bike and make his rounds. You’d flung out a sleep-heavy arm to silence your alarm, and in the time it took you to draw it back under the warmth and safety of the covers, John had moved on top of you.

Between soft, slow, drowsy kisses, he lazily slipped inside you, dragging his hips back and forward against yours as you gasped into his mouth.

You came clinging to his back, your ankles hooked around his hips, his tongue in your mouth and your name in his throat.

When you came downstairs together. Mickey had already started warming up the ovens. You had paused, momentarily startled. Mickey was early for once. But you brushed your surprise away and slipped on an easy smile. There was no way he would've been able to hear you, and there were a hundred perfectly innocent reasons why John could’ve been upstairs with you.

Idiot.

“Oh,” You pulled a face, aiming for apologetic and ending up at awkward. “Sorry, Mickey.”

He just laughed and headed out into the alley for his smoke break.

Turning to John, you grimaced.

“Whoops.”

Looking about as embarrassed as you felt, he held out his hand to you. John guided you around the counter until you were standing between his knees, his hands immediately resting on your hips like it was second nature.

“Alright, so your walls are thinner than we thought. Lesson learnt.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so noisy.”

“Me!” John laughed. “Can I take you out tonight?”

“Depends. Where you taking me?”

“Thought we could go to the pictures? Get some dinner?”

“Sounds perfect.” You kissed the tip of his nose. “And your electric stuff is very cool, John. I was only teasing you.”

Smiling like a cat curled up in front of the fire, John squeezed your hips reassuringly.

“I know.”

“Not just a pretty face, eh?”

John looked sheepish.

“Well, you know, you’re always saying-”

You kissed him once, twice, then his nose again.

“You’re very pretty.”

“No…”

John barely put up a fight. It was hard enough arguing with you at the best of times, he could barely concentrate when you were so close, your floury hands cupping his face, your lips so close to his.

“Yes! Twice as pretty as Roger.”

John let his head grow heavy, relaxing completely until all that supported him were your hands under his jaw. While you giggled at his exhausted expression, John shook his head

“Now you’re just being silly.”

Your heart felt so full, it threatened to spill over.

There had been a small worry, so small it barely warranted entertaining, right in the back of your mind. It liked to remind you that the dynamics of your relationship with John had forever shifted.

What if things felt different now? Under these new parameters, there would be no more longing looks across the bakery, no dancing and stumbling around each other, no more tension and uncertainty. What if the sudden expectations and roles made things awkward?

A smaller, even stupider part of your brain had even been afraid that John would wake up and - in the cold, harsh light of the morning - decide he'd changed his mind.

That particular worry was extinguished almost as quickly as it sprang into life. When John hooked one long, slim leg through yours and moaned into your mouth that you were absolutely perfect, you could have laughed at yourself for ever worrying if your mouth hadn’t been full of his name, then his tongue.

But no, here, alone in the kitchen where you came to know each other, looking and smiling at each other like you were the only two people in the world, you knew nothing good had changed. It made you wonder just how long you’d belonged to each other without knowing it.

“I mean it!” You laughed softly when you brushed your hand over his cheek and John pretended to nip at your fingertips. “You’ve got pretty eyes…”

You kissed a spot under both of his eyes, right on the apple of John’s cheeks. His smile pressed into your palms

“And pretty hair…”

“You’re so odd, love.”

“And nice eyebrows…”

John laughed, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“My eyebrows are nice?”

“And you’ve got a great nose…” You kissed it to prove a point, then grazed your fingertip along the outline of his bottom lip. “I love your funny little mouth.”

John raised his eyebrows.

“What’s so funny about my mouth?”

“Nothing!”

“My mouth works just fine, thank you.”

You grinned.

“I’m well aware.”

Shaking his head slightly, his cheeks tinged pink, John asked,

“You really think I’m pretty?”

“I really do, John.”

“I think you’re pretty too. I think you’re beautiful.”

John smiled softly as you leaned in to kiss him, and you could still feel him smiling against your mouth as you tilted his head back with one finger under his jaw.

He pulled you closer, his hands on the backs of your thighs at first, before they slid up and bunched up your apron.

You had half a mind to pull away and check over your shoulder, just to make sure Mickey wasn’t about to walk in on you. You could hear Gladys a mile away, so you didn’t have to worry about her catching you, but you’d never live it down if Mickey had to bleach his eyes as well as his ears.

John brushed his nose against yours sweetly, his eyes half-lidded and heavy. He was so handsome when he was like this, all relaxed and confident and putty in your hands.

“That thing you did,” he said quietly. “Last night.”

You hummed, only half listening as you leaned down to kiss him again.

“Think you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I don’t think I do.”

John raised his eyebrows and you bit back a smile, feeling somehow simultaneously sheepish and proud of yourself.

You’d been waiting for him to bring it up, but when he didn’t say anything last night or this morning, you wondered if maybe he didn’t like it. His body certainly reacted positively, but sometimes there was a disconnect, a barrier, between what was felt physically and what was felt emotionally.

“Is that something you’ve done before?”

“Maybe.” Though your cheeks burned, you kept up your grin, never wanting to give away just how much John flustered you. “Or maybe I just saw you there, all wet and desperate, and couldn’t help myself.”

John’s eyes widened a fraction, like he couldn’t believe you would dare to say something so outrageous within a few feet of your colleagues and countless hungry customers.

Bending his head, he let his forehead rest against your chest, his hands tense on your hips.

“You’re terrible,” he grumbled, the sound muffled against your apron.

You couldn’t resist, you slipped your fingers into his thick hair, combing it through and playing with the odd curl.

He really was so wonderful, a ridiculous mix of pretty boy and handsome mechanic. There wasn’t anything John Deacon couldn’t do. He played every part so well without ever not being himself, and he was all yours.

“Did you like it?” you asked, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

John quietly huffed.

“I think that was fairly obvious.”

“Because we could do it again. And more, if you like.”

John raised his head.

“More?”

You kept your hand in his hair, grazing and tugging his curls around your fingers. It kept you grounded, kept you from pulling back and changing the subject and apologising for even asking. It wasn’t exactly embarrassing, just a lot to say out loud, especially with John looking at you like that.

“Yeah, you know…” You shrugged, fighting back a smile and losing. “I could use more than just my fingers.”

“Oh.” John’s eyes widened a fraction but that was all he gave away. “Would you… Want to?”

“Yes. Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

The tension between you was building again, a push me, pull you of daring looks and lingering touches, toeing the line a little more with every word passed between you.

“I…” John opened his mouth, closed it again, then said, “I trust you with me.”

There was a flicker of nervousness in his grey eyes but no hesitancy, no uncertainty.

Even just thinking about it left your mouth feeling dry, and from the way John’s fingers tightened on the backs of your thighs, threatening to slip up under your dress and beyond, he was thinking about it too.

“Still can’t really believe it,” he said softly.

“Well, you know, it’s not that uncommon. You’d be surpri-”

“No, I mean,” John laughed softly and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Can’t believe I’m here. With you.”

“Oh!” With a grin you brushed back his hair and tucked it behind his ear for him. “Well, I’m very glad you decided to stick around, New Boy. Well, not so new anymore.”

John hummed and leant his head in your hands again, nuzzling his cheek against your palms.

He’d gone all soft on you. You tried to pinpoint exactly when that could have happened, but came up empty. He’d always been sweet but recently, perhaps over the last few weeks, John had shown a vulnerability that he’d hidden behind clever words and smiles.

When did give himself over to you? Welcoming him into your little family had done wonders for John’s confidence, giving him somewhere that he felt safe and secure, where he had a set role and no doubt that he belonged.

But when had he become yours? When you were one of six people in the crowd to see his band play? When you took him into your home and patched him up, offering him love and comfort and a warm place to sleep? Or maybe it had been immediate, when you sent a stranger home with food just because he looked cold and hungry? Or maybe it was only recently. Maybe seeing how his friends welcomed you into his own odd little family had been the final nail.

Running your fingers through his soft hair, you knew you wouldn’t ever know when this started, when John had solidified himself in your life, but you were oh so very glad that he did.

The bakery door opened. You barely registered it, just a faint chime in the back of your head. You almost, almost ignored it. But something about the sound sent goosebumps shivering up your arms and down your back. Something told you to look up and pay attention.

Through the kitchen doorway, you could hear familiar voices. The same customers came by every day, or weekly, you knew them all by heart. They knew you as you knew them. There was a warmth there, a rare connection for this part of the city.

One voice, cold and discordant, cut through the rest like a bow pulled too sharply across violin strings.

Without taking your eyes off the kitchen doorway, you squeezed John’s hands, then gently let them go.

“Hang on, love.”

Heart thudding, you made it to the doorway just in time to catch Alastair moving round the counter towards Gladys.

Immediately, a coppery taste rose under your tongue, like blood, adrenaline. Your hands balled into fists and you didn’t know if you were afraid or furious or just shocked, but you froze in the doorway, unable to move any part of you apart from your wide eyes.

“Gladys, love,” Alastair smiled like an anglerfish as he drew closer. “You have to give me another chance. I was just trying to do what’s best for you.”

The bakery door closed behind the last customer, you caught the movement out of the corner of your eye. The shop was empty, apart from one woman, seated at a table in the corner, busy fussing over her baby.

“You’re being ridiculous, love. You know I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you. I just want to help-”

“Alastair.”

You stopped him with his hand raised in the air, reaching out to Gladys, fingers curled inwards like claws. The big bad wolf.

“What the hell are you doing here.”

Alastair slowly dragged his gaze away from his target. His lip curled in irritation, almost like you bored him. You were just something to scrape off the bottom of his custom-made Italian leather shoes.

The sound of his name caught John’s attention. You felt his chest against your back but he didn’t touch you, just kept close, keeping watch but never interfering. Still, it meant there was now another man in the room, and Alastair’s attitude shifted accordingly.

He straightened his long back, pulled back his hand and tucked it behind him. His mouth shifted into something more friendly but his eyes he had less control over. They stayed cold and steady and fixed on you.

“There you are.” He tried to smile but didn’t understand the mechanics. “Look, we got off on the wrong foot, darling. But now everything’s out in the open, I really think we can come to some kind of agreement. I mean, you’re sitting on a goldmine here, sweetheart.”

Behind you, John scowled.

“Don’t call her that.”

Alastair pretended not to hear him.

“You don’t even know what you have here.”

You caught Gladys’ eye. This place was just as much her home as it was yours, if not more so. She bought a tiny corner of a bomb-stricken street, fixed it up, loved it into living, and filled it with good things to feed her community.

Until recently, until Alastair, she’d never had a day off, she’d never called in sick, she never complained or argued or admitted defeat. The fire that burned in her had been dampened but never snuffed out, and now it was back, roaring and clawing past the bars of its cage. And she’d passed it on to you.

“I do, actually,” you said, and Gladys smiled.

Alastair laughed drily, humourlessly, and there was no doubt that he thought you were beyond stupid, that you were all beneath him, that he understood the world better than any of you ever could.

“Honey, in ten years, this city is going to look completely different.”

He took a step towards you and you felt John tense.

“Twenty, thirty years down the line, this space will be worth triple what she bought it for. More than that. If you give it to me, I can talk to the right people, I can get you a good deal. Sweetheart, I can make you rich.”

“Alastair, I’ve been waitin’ a long time to say this: get the fuck ou’ of my bakery.”

Frantic now, he turned his gaze to John.

“You, you’re the boyfriend, right? Can you talk some sense into your girl? She’ll listen to you. You’re a smart bloke, I can tell. You can see what they can’t, right? C’mon, you and me, we know we can’t leave decisions like this up to- Well, a couple of girls playing business. We both know it’s too much for them.”

“Skip asked you to leave,” John said, terse and stern. ”Much more politely than you deserve.”

When Mickey came to see what was going on, Alastair took a step backwards. A smart move but not nearly quick enough.

Without a word from any of you, Mickey immediately understood what was happening and knew what the situation demanded.

Alastair raised his hands, his warped smile trembling at the corners. He shrank back as Mickey made his way towards him.

“Michael,” He shook his head, his cold eyes darting everywhere. “Michael, you-”

“Oh, mate.” Mickey grabbed Alastair by the scruff of his spotless jacket. “You’ve just made my day.”

Struggling against Mickey’s grip, Alastair cried out to Gladys, his hands wrapped uselessly around the much larger one dragging him out the front door.

Together, you watched Mickey throw Alastair onto the pavement, ruining his nice suit and removing him from your lives forever.

You looked up when you felt John slip his fingers through yours. Drawing in a soothing breath, you squeezed his hand back.

“Well,” Gladys turned to you with a smile. “I think I’ll stick the kettle on. Anyone want a brew?”

//

Master List

[everydayyoulovemeless]

hiya, how are you doing?

I recently read one of your posts containing yandere NV HCs of certain characters, and it gave me an idea for a request if you're feeling up to it.

This'll be a Fallout 4 yandere headcannon, if that's alright with you. The characters would be:

Deacon, Nick and Hanock, or if you're wanting to, replace any character with Danse, Macready or Cait. I feel like you'd obliterate this, since I live off your writing, lol.

nonetheless, have a good one!

Yandere Deacon, Nick, and Hancock HCs

➼ Word Count » 1.8k ➼ Warnings » Stalking, Threats, Kidnapping, Possessiveness, Drugging, and General Yandere Themes. ➼ Genre » Yandere, Romantic ➼ A/N » Ah! You're so sweet Nonnie! I hope this was what you were looking for <33

Deacon

Deacon knows everything about you. He's constantly following you around and 'gathering intel' as he likes to call it. He'll end up knowing everything there is to know before the two of you even meet.

He justifies everything he does by telling himself that 'he has a job to do and he needs to do it well', even if he seems to have an entire shrine of you back at base.

He gets so scared once you both officially meet because it means that he doesn't have to stalk you for his job anymore. Now he has no reason to find out all these little things about your life, and it scares him that he doesn't have that cover to hide his true intentions behind anymore.

He's very aware at how unhealthy his feelings toward you are and distances himself as much as possible before disappearing from your life entirely.

Eventually, he won't be able to help it and will find a way to weasel back into your life once again, and everything will seem normal from there. You'll hardly realize the type of person Deacon actually is because of how easy it is for him to lie to you.

A lot of the times when he doesn't like someone you hang out with, he'll stalk them for a bit before killing them in a way he sees fit. Usually, it's just sniping, but he can get ugly if provoked. (he was a part of the DP deathclaws at one point)

You'll be none the wiser to the truth because of how easily he can spin it to make him look better. Everything will seem fine and peachy while on the flip side, Deacon's breaking the majority of his morals just to keep his state of mind at bay.

He tries his best to appear laid back and friendly but on the inside he’s screaming, fighting himself not to just grab you or rough up some sideman. He does so much to keep his composure and show that nothing bothers him that it ends up taking a toll on his health.

Even if you dismiss him back to a settlement, he’ll still be 10 steps behind you. He’s come this far and he’s not losing you. He’ll protect you to his last breath.

Deacon might even start sending threatening messages anonymously through caravans just to keep you on edge. He wants you to come running into his arms, hiding away in the Railroad HQ, afraid of your possible assassination while you’re out and about. He can manipulate you so much easier if you're scared.

"Yeahhh, you're 'friend' said that they didn't wanna stick around. Who needed them though, right?"

He might not be one for physical affection, but he ends up hugging you a whole lot as a yandere. They're far from welcoming too due to how tight they are. Bros got an iron grip on you.

Deacon is really protective of you. He doesn’t really care who he’s killing or what he’s doing, if he perceives it as a threat to your relationship, he’s gonna get rid of it. The two of you are partners now, right? You only ever really need him.

He and you will be best friends until he one day decides that he's going to confess to you, and if you even seem slightly against the idea he'll have no issue kidnapping you and keeping you locked away.

He’ll have you trust everything he says, every little lie will go right over your head until it’s too late. All of sudden a hand will reach out from an alley and drag you away from the rest of the Commonwealth, stashed away for Deacon's own peace of mind. Why wouldn’t you want to stay with him, though? He was with you from the start. He knows exactly what he needs to do for you in any situation. He's the one you really want—the one you really need, whether you realize it or not.

Nick

Has a case on you constantly open. Any slight change in behavior or new acquaintance is documented down in his files.

He's on a constant watch for any variable that might compromise your safety or well-being, and if he does find something he deems a threat, he'll take care of it promptly. Even if it's not an act you might've liked.

If he ever finds that you've been gone for longer than usual, he'll track you down and take you to the agency where he won't let you out of his sight for the next couple of days.

There's nothing in the world that would make him want to ever hurt you and makes a constant effort in ensuring that he doesn't accidentally leave a scratch from his busted metal hands.

He's WAYY too overprotective, and he's aware of it, but he convinces himself that since it's for noble-ish reasons, then he's good. I mean, protecting people is his entire job, why would him wanting to defend you be viewed as unhealthy? He desperately tries to convince himself that he's completely in the right, even when that nagging feeling doesn't leave.

He'll try to convince you to live at the agency with him and Ellie. He might even manipulate Ellie into unknowingly helping him out in entrapping you. Having a second-friendly face might just do the trick.

If you happen to own a terminal then bro Is gonna hack it and use any information or logs to his advantage.

Nick has a tendency to just kinda reach out and grab your chin. He does it for multiple reasons: inspecting you for cuts, feeling your skin against him, or simply just making you look at him. He doesn't even realize how often he does it.

Being a detective for so long has made him incredible at reading people, and he especially likes to read you. Every slight jerk or reaction tells him everything he needs to know and he plays off of it so well.

He’s a little insecure due to him not being human. He knows he’s not your ideal type, and he wouldn’t make you be in a relationship with him, as long as you listen and let him protect you then he’s happy. (although, that wouldn't stop him from occasionally slaughtering others out of jealousy)

He’s always there to comfort your or aid in whatever quest you doing to the point that you become emotionally dependent on him.

Nick's probably the most understanding and reasonable yanderes on this list. He never wants you to be scared or alone like he was and his goal will mainly be to keep you happy, no matter what that would take.

It gets to the point where he doesn't want you going to anyone else when you're in distress and would find himself getting a little jealous if you did. He'll end up taking them out if it gets bad enough. You don't really need them that badly anyway, he knows so much more about you and can help you so much better.

"Believe me, doll, they aren't the person you think they are."

Hancock

He's got an eye for you the second you walk into Goodneighbor. He's always going to be lurking around, popping out of corners, and throwing his arm around your shoulders before butting into whatever conversation you were already having.

He has a habit of lacing the things you intake (stimpaks, water, food, etc.) with drugs so that he can take you up to the Old State House to 'take care of you'. It usually ends up being him clinging to you and begging you to stay because you're not in the right headspace, even when you're fully sober.

He'll start telling the people around town that he and you are a thing. Soon enough the guards are all keeping an eye out for you and will stop anyone who tries to hit on you.

He likes it better when you're reliant on him and will have people stage these incidents nearby to make you fearful of going out alone or at the very least more cautious so that he could swoop in and protect you more often

There were a few people who spoke out against what he seemed to be trying to do but they all kept disappearing and, eventually, people stopped questioning it.

Hancock is always going to be thinking about you. It comes to a point where even Farenheit is concerned about whether his crush is healthy or not and might even try to put an end to it as well. That being said, he wants you to be thinking about him just as much and would start slaughtering raiders in front of you so that you never forget him. It'll mostly just end up freaking you out because of how brutal it usually is, but that doesn't stop him.

His obsession gets worse and worse over time until it eventually drives him to do more drastic things like kidnapping you.

He'll manage to convince you that some raider gang has a hit out for you and he just wants to make sure you stay safe till it all boils over. Fahrenheit feels so bad for you as she's not sure what she should do. She just watches you tremble in the corner, knowing it's from Hancock injecting you with Med-X and instilling a false sense of danger into you.

You won't be completely stuck up in the Old State House, though, whenever he has to go somewhere or do something, he'll sometimes take you along. Only if you've been good for him. He likes to think of these times as dates because he tries to get to know you more and ask questions about your past and all that. He finds you really interesting and loves hearing you talk.

He'd love to spoil you with whatever you wanted. It could be something only found on the West coast and he'd still make the journey for you. It's not even funny how lovesick he is.

He gets kinda paranoid that you'd run away from him, so some nights he'll just tie you up, pull you into his lap, and shush your panicked sobs.

The good thing about Hancock is that he's not pushy when it comes to sex. He might flirt a lot and be kinda touchy, but he'd never dreamt of crossing any lines until you said you were ready. He'd wait till the end of time if he had to.

He'll try his best to keep you sheltered and away from the horrors happening outside. He wants to keep you as pure and ignorant as he possibly can. He thinks it's better that way.

As harsh as his actions can appear, he's actually really soft towards you. His touches are gentle, his voice is quiet, and his eyes are always full of adoration.

Friendly guy, just be careful what you mention to him. He has a habit of going batshit on people he deems wrong for you.

[whatsupmykentuckyfriedfuckers]

Just writing an Outsiders fic and listening to Queen. God this is great

[fanciest-sauce]

listen I know I'm very difficult and im sorry in advance

but does anyone have any good queen fics that don't include mpreg or any aus or anything just like a plausible fic

sorry again

I appreciate all you fic writers even if it's something I wouldn't read somewhere someone does

[aimee201]

Roger Taylor x fem!reader

Early 80's Roger <3

Themes // Roger the husband, fluff, quiet night in, very soft and gentle, really just the two of you being very much in love

Warnings // none, I guess mentions of pain, like bodily pain from him drumming but that’s it

P.S sorry it’s short, but I might do a part 2 if anyone wants it or reads this one

Hi! This is my first bit of fanfiction that I’ve posted on Tumblr, I really hope you like it (it is a bit short, I love writing longer stuff but can never seem to finish them) and this is also my first Roger imagine that I’ve posted, (see pinned post). So this is just a small imagine I wrote and actually finished for once (how actually how??) and it’s just some fluff, no warnings, just me imaging how life would be like with Mr Taylor ;). I’ve also been a big Queen/Roger fan for a long time now (again see pinned post). Anyway, enough about me, sit back, relax and read on… here’s to all the Roger lovers out there!!💗

The curtains were closed, but there was still a little light from the full moon peeking through. That was what you loved about living somewhere more rural: it wasn't so overwhelming, no hoards of people, no car horns, no noise, no light pollution; you could see the moon, almost as bright as your husbands eyes when he talks about something he loves.

It was the early evening, you and Roger were both at home for a change; he had recently come back from touring and you had missed him deeply. You had wanted to go with him, and he did too, but you had work and a life to attend to and you couldn't ignore that.

He often comes back from touring in a lot of pain. People don't often realise that drumming can take quite a toll on your body; he comes back with shoulder pain, back pain, wrist pain, neck pain, leg pain, any kind of pain. But you secretly loved being his private nurse, helping him feel better and taking care of him. But this was a few weeks ago and he was feeling a lot better now "thanks to you" in his words.

So you both were enjoying a quiet night at home: the lights were on a soft glow, you could hear the gentle bubble of the food you were cooking for dinner on the stove, there was a record playing on low, and there was the occasional sound of an owl hooting away in the distance. You were both on the large sofa, reading your separate books, he some kind of adult science-fiction and you a romance novel, your favourite. He was sitting with his back against the arm of the sofa and you leaning your side against the back of it. You were facing each other and your legs were entangled keeping you both in place.

He had his glasses on even though he was shy about them, he'd always had terrible eyesight, but it took him a while to wear them in front of you; something about them not being very "rock and roll." He was staring intently at his book and you couldn't help but peek up from yours from time to time to watch him. His hair was ever so slightly messy and its blond streaks going every which way. His eyes laser-focused on the words and images with his pupils large and doe-eyed. He looked so cute.

You didn't want him to catch you staring though, so your eyes reluctantly turned back to your book, though you could keep staring at him forever.

But, the same pair of blue irises you were just staring at looked up, and looked at you. He loved you so much, and he also couldn't help but look up every so often to gaze at you, to check you were real, to check you weren't just a figment of his imagination, something he had conjured up while song-writing.

Your eyes flicked up at just the right moment though, you were going to sneak another peek at your husband, only to find him staring at you instead.

You both started giggling, like when you were caught staring at your crush from across the classroom. You found it funny how all this time, you had both been sneaking looks at each other, when the other wasn't looking.

"Caught you." he said.

"Oh really? Cause I think you'll find that it was I that caught you, Mr Taylor."

"Oh no that's not possible Mrs Taylor you see, because I am a much better peeker than you." he challenged.

"Oh really how so?" you asked.

"Because I have been looking at you for the last twelve minutes and you haven't noticed."

"Creep." you smirked.

He just smiled in return, lovingly gazing at you, still in disbelief that you were his.

[ilovejohnsbeefylegs]

John study cuz I luv him

[eileen-crys]

A Bouquet of Speedwell - ch.5

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Time for Live Aid! And time also to wear John's shoes again, how will he live this concert after all that turmoil?

I'm really sorry for taking so long to post the new chapter, I hope you like it anyway and don't worry, we're almost at the final stage of this little drama! Next time we'll see some more of Jim's pov! I also apologise for not replying to the comments in the previous chapter, I promise I'll be more present here 💕 Writing is not easy at all right now but I'm trying my best!

[rogertaylorsgirl]

feel free to request anything guys <3

[warriorteam1924]

The little things

featuring John Deacon

Author note : Hello my beauties. I'm back for a tiny piece for halloween ^^ ! I’ve been super busy lately and I’m aware it’s not my best piece, but  I hope some of you will enjoy it anyways. Thanks in advance to anyone who will be giving honest feedback, it’s always very appreciated. Also, I remind you English isn’t my mother tongue, apologies in advance for the mistakes.

Warnings : none really, just my awful writing

Summary : a nice moment for halloween for John

Words count : 950 words

Permanent taglist : @reavenedges-lies @thosequeenboys @orionis8689 (apologies people, i removed you from the list, since you don't interact.... i asked for communication....)

It was the end of October already and autumn had eventually settled down. It was about time, John thought. At the beginning of the month, he recalled being in the garden, wandering around his flowers, feeling the hot sun on his shoulders, feeling way too warm for the old man he was, merely wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

And of course, the end of October also meant Halloween. It was now a very common celebration, even in London now. Kids would dress up as celebrities or scary creatures and would knock on the neighborhood doors to trick or treat. When it came to adults, most of them were just picking up nice costumes, and would spend the evening together, giving them yet another opportunity to escape reality and have a party.

As for what would happen at the Deacon’s, the plan couldn’t be simpler.  Husband and wife had agreed. John would be in charge of answering at the door and give kids candies they would be asking for, preventing them from having a severe spell put on them.

As his wife was comfy and sat in the living room, John was making sure all would be ready for the late afternoon and evening. His plan was to have a large bowl and put it next to the front door so that he wouldn’t have to take it with him whenever someone would knock on the door.

He was putting the content of the large bag in the bowl he had prepared when something caught his attention. He spotted a candy he hadn’t eaten for what seemed to be forever. As a kid about to do something stupid, he looked around, making sure his crime would remain unnoticed. He picked the candy, took the wrapping paper off and very delicately put it in his mouth.

It was absolutely delicious. Of course, his adult mind perfectly knew candies weren’t very healthy, but he made the thought go away with an imaginary gesture of the hand.  

This candy he had put in his mouth was not the fanciest food he had ever eaten. But John suddenly realized despite how tiny this candy was, it was bringing him happiness at his very moment.

He had closed his eyes as he was letting the flavors of the candy invade his mouth and let his mind wander a bit on its own, a light genuine smile on his lips.

He started to think about all the little things in his life, like this candy, that was bringing him joy. He had been the bass player of Queen for something like two decades. He had traveled the world, seen so many things. He was married and was a proud father of six. One could say he had accomplished many things in his life.  

But what about the little things, the things that wouldn’t appear on his Wikipedia page, or that only the persons closest to him would talk about?

John thought about these little things. How he liked to wrap himself in his covers at night to feel comfy and cozy, as he was hearing his wife’s sleepy breathing. How he liked to receive a random picture from his kids or grandkids, letting him know about their lives now they had left the familial nest. How he liked to be in his garden, merely enjoying nature: the trees and their leaves, the psithurism, the flowers and their wonderful smell, the birds and their colorful feathers, singing here and there.

He also thought about a few memories he had with members of his family, his wife and kids of course, but also his mother and his sister. Even his father. Yes, his dad had died when he was still very young, but he was now making sure to recall nice moments, fragments of time before whatever had decided to take him from his family’s loving arms.

He also thought about his dear friends, his former band members, but also the roadies. How they had been laughing together to let the pressure down in between two concerts.

His mind then let him think about his dear dog who had passed away not that long ago. Again, trying to stick to positivity, he recalled the zoomies, her face when she didn’t get the present she had expected for Christmas – probably blaming Santa Claus for that – but eventually liking the toy, the walks in the nearby park, the smiles and the ear scratches….

His train of thoughts was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. John realized he had finished the candy for a long time and had been daydreaming in the kitchen for a good ten minutes.

He took the large bowl of candies with him and went to the front door. He put it on a high table that was in the corridor and opened the door. He let the kids say the now usual “trick or treat” and took time to compliment them about their costume. He noticed one of them was dressed as a zombie from the series and game The Last of Us, making him wonder if any of his grandkids would have picked such a costume….

He gave the kids their candies, all of them politely thanking him and rushing to the next house. John smiled at the sight of them happily running with their bags getting filled with sweets.

He closed the door and thought about suggesting tea to his wife. He started to walk towards the living room but stopped after two steps. He randomly picked another candy from the bowl and smiled like the kids he had seen a few minutes before.

Yes, it was good to enjoy the little things….

[eileen-crys]

Reminder that if you want to write/post a fic for Veronica's birthday or for Valentine's day, the collection is always open! 🥰💕💜💕💖💜💕

And please don't forget to leave kudos and comments on the fics on AO3 and share them, they're all incredibly underrated and deserve so much more! 🥺💕💕💕 If you're looking for some fluff and emotions this is the right place! 🙏🏻💜

Welcome to the masterlist of the Johnica Week 2023! Here you can find, as always, all the entries to the event, including those who are not on AO3, with the links to all tumblr posts so you can reblog them 💕

As mentioned in another post, the AO3 collection and the event will STAY OPEN, and I will keep sharing your entries here, and will add them to the masterlist! Just let me know that you’d like your creation to be added to the collection and the event! You don’t have to follow the prompts, just check out the rules as always and be respectful!

I wrote prompts for 4 days (+ some extras) but it doesn’t mean the event is over, we can keep celebrating John and Veronica’s anniversary for more days to come, for Valentine’s day, for Veronica’s birthday, etc… and your contributions are always highly appreciated, without rush! 🥰💕💕💕

Meanwhile, under here you’ll find all the creations written, drawn and put together so far. The Queen fandom is getting more quiet so each engagement is super precious for our contributers, don’t forget to show your support!

💖 Fluff ahead!

🔥 This fic contains mild/discussed sexual themes, and 🔥🔥 contains explicit NSFW scenes! 🔞

‼️ This fic contains delicate themes and/or important angst, mind the tags before reading!

🪐 This fic is set in an Alternative Universe.

Rain by @julescape 💖 70s Johnica

Misplaced by @julescape​  • early 80s Johnica hurt/comfort

Thursdays by @john-paul-george-ring0 💖 80s Johnica

Dear Mrs. Deacon by @john-paul-george-ring0 💖 70s Johnica

“Dearer than I?” “No, no, not dearer than you.” by @beydeaks ‼️🪐 Spy AU

Those Crazy Notions by @blossom-melina-burnickel​ 💖 80s Johnica + their daughter Laura

What is essential is invisible to the eye by @eileen-crys 🪐 Superhero AU • Johnica + Gen Queen

I’m too exhausted to start a fight by @eileen-crys ‼️ Magic Tour angst + Roger and Crystal

My heart cries out to your heart by @eileen-crys 🪐‼️ Arranged Marriage AU

Ladies’ night at Casa Deacon by @carrrothead-vol2 🔥 Veronica + Dominique and Chrissie

Forgotten Future by @queenies-bug 🪐🔥💖 Royalty AU

VISUAL ARTWORKS

Happy Anniversary! by @john-deacon-fucks​

Love and Psyche - Angels AU by @eileen-crys​

Anniversary Moodboard by @beydeaks​

Johnica and Books moodboard by @julescape​

A book for baby Robert by @eileen-crys​

Superhero John by @eileen-crys​

Lost in Wonderland mini-comic by @silver-salmon15​

Links to Masterlists: 2020 || 2021 || 2022

Prompts and rules || 2023 AO3 collection

[queenpolyweek]

10 days to Poly!Queen 2024! ❤️

Revisit some previous entries from the past Poly!Queen week events (2022-2023) to get you inspired 🥰

Colossal Love (John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor) (G) by @freddie-mercury-rising

The tales of John, Roger and Veronica (John Deacon/Roger Taylor/Veronica Tetzlaff) (M) by @eileen-crys

I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Joe Fanelli/Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury) (T) by @your-one-day-ecstasy

Star Crossed Lovers (John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor) (T) by @shewas-agaystripper

Buried Alive in the Blues (John Deacon/Chris "Crystal" Taylor/Roger Taylor) (E) by @emmaandorlando

POLY!QUEEN 2024 PROMPTS HERE 💚

FAQ ON POLY RELATIONSHIPS HERE 💙