#john deacon x reader smut

[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

[deakyislife51]

i actually run a fan acc on insta still, if anyone wants to follow !

https://www.instagram.com/deakyislife51?igsh=OGQ5ZDc2ODk2ZA%3D%3D&utm_source=qr

[fictionalmenmakemecry]

Hey hi, I noticed your Deacon St. John fic "Healing the wounds" could've continued.. Ik I'm like 2 years behind on this but I'm watching a playthrough of Days Gone again and goddamn that man is still fine as hell, sooo I was wondering would you continue the fic or has the ship sailed lol

Hey! Tbh, I totally forgot about continuing that. That fic was mostly for me because I was having all these crazy daydreams. I didn't realise people were actually enjoying them! But I would love to. Deacon St. John will always have my heart. I'll definitely make a part 2. It might take a hot minute, but I will definitely do it! Thanks for letting me know :)

[rogertaylorshbb]

"good girl" part 2! roger Taylor x reader {short imagine}

he back a few inches away and looked at you. you couldn't even look him in the eye, you just looked down and fiddled with the papers.

he tucked some hair behind your ear. "are you gonna be a good girl when I tell you what to do" he asked in a soft but dominating voice. "yes" you whispered.

he grabbed the papers in your hand and placed then on a coffee table, "look at me" he demanded, you looked up at, "you look so desperate" he laughed.

he moved some hair away from your neck and started to kiss down to your collar bone, even that made you wet between your legs. he then got his hand and slowly placed it on your stomach following it up to your breast. you let out a moan louder then expected but you stopped yourself from doing more. "its alright, love, moan, I want you to moan my name"

he started to unbutton your shirt and flung it on the ground, he did the same with your bra shortly after. traveling his hand around your neck and chest while he kissed you, his other hand rubbing the inside of your thigh.

you could smell his fresh cologne that smelt like a soft peppermint and could taste cigarettes' on his tongue. his rough fingertips traced down to your skirt, he ran he hands over your underwear nudging your sensitive clit which made you gasp outload. "already so wet and sensitive, how nice, such a good girl for me" he chuckled through kisses.

he started to softly nudge the area of couple times feeling the wet warmth through the fabric. "roger" you began to whimper as the slightest touch from him made your stomach fill with butterflies.

he began to grow hard at your whimpers of his name, becoming more rough as he grew. he laid you down on your back sliding your underwear off, he started to unbuckle his jean belt and slide his pants off as he whispered in your ear "I'm gonna try to to easy on you" he said softly.

"don't" you whispered "make me cry your name"

"fuck" he groaned.

he put his hand down to your clit and trailed down to your opening. he slowly placed two fingers inside you and you clenched around his fingers. the feel of you getting flustered underneath him made him almost feel weak.

"tell me if its too much" he said as he slowly pushed into you.

"oh my god, roger- fuck" you moaned as he pushed in deeper.

he started to pound you fast without and hesitation. you scarped your nails into his back and moaned uncontrollably, maybe even a bit too much.

"fucking good girl" he groaned while he pounded into you, he called you other names that made you feel closer to your climax. "roger, fuck me, god, its too much- don't stop"

"you fucking desperate whore" he whispered into your ear that made you shake.

"I'm- clos-" you moaned

"I know love".

he reached your climax and grabbed onto him and he rubbed your clit harshly riding your orgasm out. he them pulled out of you to cum on your stomach.

"good boy" you whispered.

[vladr2566]

How tf do I do a poll?

[starstruckfangirlsposts]

🥵🔥🔥🔥

could you do either deacy or roger edging reader in public then like. overstimulating reader l o t s when they get home?? o wow.

I’m gonna do Deacy bc I’m deep in my John feels today. Dedicated to @rogerscupboard who is struggling just as much as me bc of this man 😂

A/N:  Y’all, I have no self-control. I’m not even sorry. This “blurb” took on a life of its own, and this monster is the result. RIP to all Deacy stans

Word Count: 1350+

Warnings: Smut hehe

Keep reading

[petitemistletoe]

The Concert

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Warnings: smut, angst, dom! James x Regulus, some hate fucking sort of? enjoy this!

Word Count: 5K+

A/N: This is a part 2 to Hate, hope you all enjoy it :)

“I have such a good idea!” You said with a large grin on your face as you dropped yourself down at the table in between Marlene and Remus. 

“Where did you come from?” Sirius asked, turning fully around to look behind him. 

“Stayed to help Binns after history,” you grinned, helping yourself to a large piece of the meaty pie that was on the table for dinner.

“What’s your idea?” Lily asked, sensing the excitement radiating off you.

“I heard from Yaz who heard from Dorcus who heard from Daniel who heard from Michael who heard from his cousin who lives in Soho that Queen is doing a pub concert in London on Friday and we have to go!” You beamed. 

“I don’t care for Queen.” Remus shrugged.

“The Queen sings?” Marlene cocked an eyebrow. 

“No! The band Queen! Freddy Mercury, Roger Taylor, Brian May, John Deacon. Come on! They’re the biggest band in the world right now! How can you guys not want to go?” You were severely displeased with your friends’s lack of enthusiasm. 

“Hey! I know I would love to hear the Queen perform. I’ve never been to a muggle concert before.” James said, getting up from his place across the table and squeezing himself between you and Sirius so he could wrap an arm around your shoulders. 

“It’s just Queen, Prongs, and your opinion doesn’t count you would do anything to keep your girlfriend happy.” Remus rolled his eyes as he looked at you and James comfortably seated together. 

“Uh, Remus? She’s not the only one who would be happy to see Queen.” Lily said with a grin, pointing her fork at Sirius. Remus turned to look at Sirius who was red faced with excitement and had somehow transfigured his sweater into a Queen t-shirt.

“Oh no,” Remus sighed, “don’t tell me you’re a Queen fan? Padfoot! What happened to taste?”

“I don’t know why you don’t like them, Moony. They’re amazing and you’re a snob. Also I’m excited for us to listen to a great band, get pissed, and snog uncontrollably.” Sirius crossed his arms and glowered at Remus. 

“I don’t want to go if all you’re gonna do is snog,” Lily sighed. 

“Yeah! I don’t want to watch the Potters and the Lupins snog all night. I’m out,” Marlene said, tossing her napkin on the table and crossing her arms across her chest in a pout. 

“I’ll come if I can bring Roman. We’re supposed to go on a date but I’ve been wanting a dastardly little rendez-vous in a pub bathroom.” Mary shrugged, standing from the table and making her way over to the Hufflepuff table.

“Hold on, what makes you think I would take James’s last name?” You asked. 

“Yeah! What if Moony and I wanted to hyphenate?” Sirius protested. Before Remus could rebut, Yasmine made her way over to the table and grinned at Marlene.

“Marls are you going to the Queen concert in London? I’d love to see you there.” She smiled at Marlene again who could only offer a goofy wave and a nod in return, her eyes trained on Yaz’s ass as she walked out of the great hall. 

“Okay so what is the official headcount for the concert then? Who’s coming?” James asked, surveilling the group.

“We’re going,” Sirius said quickly, sending Remus a look. Remus rolled his eyes and nodded. 

“I’ll come!” Peter said, his mouth still full of mashed potatoes.

“Roman and I will be there,” Mary said with a nod as she walked past the table, arm in arm with Roman. 

“Marlene, you coming?” You asked. Marlene still had a dumbstruck look on her face as her fingers ghosted over her shoulder where Yaz had rested her hand.

“What about you Evans?” James asked, looking at the final member of the group who had yet to respond

“No! I’ll be the,” Lily took a second to count the people in the group, “ninth wheel. I’d rather stay back and do almost anything else.”

“Peter will be alone. You can go with him,” Sirius offered but to everyone’s surprise Peter shook his head and squeaked, 

“I’ll be going with Dorcas.”

Lily looked like she wanted to die. You cleared your throat and sent a look Lily’s way.

“Lily, why don’t you bring Severus?” You offered her a gentle smile and you slapped one hand against James’ mouth and the other against Sirius’. You could feel both of their mouths moving against your hands but you weren’t letting go any time soon. You forgot, however, that there was another person in the group who despised Snape just as much as James and Sirius and you were out of hands. 

“Why the hell would we want Snape at a concert that I don’t even want to go to?” Remus said with a look of disgust. 

“Yeah!” Sirius said after biting your hand. You snatched your hand back and wiped it on Sirius’s shirt with a scowl, “That little snake will probably bring my brother too just to piss me off.”

“You think Regulus will be there?” James asked. You and James hadn’t really spoken about your incident with Regulus a few months ago where Regulus had watched you and James fuck. You tried to bring it up a few times but James shut it down, though you could’ve sworn you heard James murmur ‘Regulus’ under his breath a few times during sex. Regulus had been avoiding you and the Marauders like the plague since. 

“Regulus would never be caught somewhere with that many muggles.” Remus shook his head. 

“Lily is our friend so we have to baseline tolerate her friends. Lily why don’t you ask Severus if he’d like to come.” You said. Lily shook her head and sighed,

“I should stay home.”

“Lily you love Queen. Either come with us on your own or ask Severus.” You placed your hand over Lily’s and she made a face, 

“Your hand is wet.” 

“Sirius.” You rolled your eyes. Your other hand was still over James’s mouth and you finally looked at him and he smiled at you with his lust blown eyes. You moved your hand down so it was on James’ tie and pulled him up. 

“We’re going now,” you said, looking at the group, “I’ll get us twelve tickets. We’ll talk more at breakfast tomorrow.”

“Walk him like a dog!” Sirius called after you both. You led James to the prefects bathroom and started undressing. James fell back into the steamy, bubbling baths and you set yourself down on top of him. He was kissing up your neck as you seated yourself on James’s cock. 

James moaned into your open mouth as he helped move you, guide you up and down on his cock. 

“God, I love you so much baby,” James was babbling, the way he usually did when he was close. He was moving you faster and faster and he choked out a desperate “don’t stop!” His hand was fisted in your hair and he stumbled out a “Regulus,” before he came. He took several deep breaths, resting his forehead on yours and smiling. 

“I think we need to talk about something, James.” You said, getting off him and sitting next to him. 

“Alright? What’s up?”

“Have you realized that since the incident with Regulus-”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” 

“I know. But I think we need to. Every time we’ve had sex in the last two months you’ve moaned Regulus’s name. I think you want him James.” You said. You could practically see the gears turning in James’ brain.

“I…this is really confusing.” James shook his head. 

“You don’t need to do anything, James. Just think about what you want.”

“I want you!”

“I know you do. But you can want more than one thing.” You said with a small smile. You and James did not discuss it further.

Finally, Friday was upon you all and you were more than excited to see Queen. You had been ready for hours and you were sitting up in the marauder’s dorm watching the boys get ready. Remus was pouting as he sat on his bed wearing a normal pair of jeans, sweater, and tennis shoes. Sirius, on the other hand, was going all out. He was wearing a tight pair of trousers and a leather jacket with no shirt underneath. He was currently lining his eyes with a dark eyeliner and snapping at Remus, 

“Moony so help me god if you don’t change I’m going to hit you.”

“I don’t even want to go!” Remus protested. You sat down on the bed next to Remus and laid your head on his shoulder, 

“Remus. Just change so you can shut Sirius up.” 

“Fine!” Remus got up and started rifling through his trunk.

“Where’s my boyfriend?” You asked, looking around the dorm. Peter was looking between two graphic tees that his sister must have sent. One was for the Beatles and one was for Bowie.

“Which one do I wear?” Peter asked, obviously bewildered. 

“Bowie.” You nodded.

“I’m here!” James said, walking out of the bathroom. He was wearing a pair of jeans, a smart looking sweater, and a leather jacket. He was also walking uncomfortably, presumably finally breaking in the pair of doc Martens that you had bought him for Christmas a year back. 

“You look good,” you said with a smile. 

“So do you,” James winked at you. You were dressed how you assumed most girls at the concert would be, a Queen shirt that Mary had cut up for you, a leather skirt, and your own doc Martens. 

Remus had finally changed and was now in a stiff pair of jeans, a thin long sleeve t shirt and a leather jacket. You had never seen so many wizards in leather. There was a knock at the door and you knew it could only be the other girls, finally ready. You let them in and Mary ran immediately to Sirius, helping him finish his eyeliner. Mary was dressed like you, with a cut up t shirt and a pleated mini skirt. 

“Mary, is that your skirt from third year?” You asked. 

“Yes! I needed a skirt I could cut shorter and Marlene knew a spell to expand the waistline!” Mary beamed. Marlene and Lily were dressed a little more conservatively. Lily was wearing a v-neck sweater and a pair of jeans and was twisting her ring on her finger nervously. Marlene was wearing leather pants and a tight top that rode up at times to show off her toned stomach. Marlene reached up to grab a flask that was sitting on a high shelf and Peter gasped and said,

“Marlene! Is that belly button piercing?” 

Marlene blushed bright red and immediately tried to pull her shirt down. 

“Ah ah! Too late McKinnon!” James said and laughed. 

“How did I not notice that before? Did you guys see that?” Lily said, turning and looking at you and Mary, who both shook your heads. 

“Yaz did it over the break,” Marlene mumbled, her face staying that same unnatural shade of red. 

“So Lily,” you could sense that Marlene was getting uncomfortable so you changed the subject, “is Severus coming?”

“Ah, sort of,” Lily shrugged, “he’s going with a few other Slytherins. Said he’ll see me there.” 

“Who are the other Slytherins, Evans?” Sirius asked, his eyes even more piercing now against the thick black eyeliner. 

“I think Barty and Regulus.” Lily sighed. 

“Oh my god! My damn brother! Get over here Moony! You’re wearing eyeliner.” Sirius commanded. 

“What? No!” Remus protested. 

“If Regulus is going to be there I need to make him as angry as possible. Seeing my boyfriend at a concert with thick eyeliner will do it.” Sirius snapped. 

“Just let him do it, Remus. He’ll poke out your eye before he backs down.” James said with a head shake. So twenty minutes later, Remus’s eyes were thickly lined and you all were on your way to Hogsmeade to apparate into London. You and James apparated first, since Yaz had left the tickets at will call for you and as a half-blood you were one of the few in the group who were familiar with the muggle world. 

“Hiya,” you greeted the man at will call, “picking up tickets. They were left by Yasmine Patel.”

“What’s the name on them?” The man asked. You gave the man your first and last name and he shook his head, “Sorry. I don’t have them under that name.”

“What!” You looked at James a little panicked. 

“Is it under Potter?” James tried. 

“Yep. Enjoy the show.” The man handed you the tickets. 

“Why would Yaz leave them under your name? She told me about the tickets.” You said, taking your ticket from James as you waited for the others to arrive. 

“Look again at the name on them,” James chuckled. He handed you the sticky note that was stuck on the tickets. Written there was your first name but instead of your last name there was Potter.

“Oh she’s hilarious.” You said with an eyeroll, crumpling up the sticky note. The rest of the group made their way over and took their tickets. 

“What’s that in your hand?” Sirius asked you as you made your way into the pub. It was pretty crowded but your large group was able to spread itself over a few tables comfortably. Marlene ran off almost immediately to see Yasmine, Mary and Roman had disappeared, and you could see Peter and Dorcas chatting with a few Hufflepuffs. Seated at the table was just you and James, Remus and Sirius, and Lily. Lily offered to grab a round of drinks first, but you knew was looking around for Severus. It didn’t seem like any of the Slytherins had made their way to the pub yet. 

“Oh, nothing. Look what Yaz left the tickets under at will call.” You handed Sirius the crumpled paper against your better judgement. Sirius immediately started laughing and said,

“Mrs. Potter! Thank you so much for arranging this visit!”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Lupin.” You teased back. Lily returned with a tray of drinks for you all as you heard a man tap a few times on the microphone. 

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming to our pub. All shots of well liquor are half off for the rest of the night. Without further ado, Queen.” The man stood back to let the band run on stage. Sirius started screaming at the top of his lungs and grabbed Remus by the hand, running to the stage. 

It was only 11:30 when Queen left the stage and everyone had had a great time, even Remus who nodded his head a few times during Get Down, Make Love. You all agreed to stay and continue drinking as a smaller local band took the stage to play some background music for the pub. 

Remus and Sirius disappeared at one point in the evening and they returned to the table with Sirius's eye makeup smudged, Sirius was wiping his mouth crudely with the back of his hand, and Remus had a dumb little grin. Sirius took his seat back at the table as Remus disappeared off.

“Did Severus not come, Lily?” You asked. You were secretly a little upset that you hadn’t run into Regulus again. 

“No, I don’t think so.” Lily said, a little crestfallen. 

“Don’t worry,” Remus said, holding a tray of shots that he got from the bar for you all, “Snape, Reg, and Barty all have a table near the bar. Don’t worry, Lily, they’re as enchanting as ever.” 

“Oh!” Lily shot up and ran over to the table. 

“If they come over here, I swear.” Sirius said, grabbing his and Lily’s shots off the table. 

“You think Regulus will come over here?” James asked. You could detect the glimmer of hope in his voice. 

“Why?” Sirius teased, “Got a crush? Better watch out Mrs. Potter.” 

“So,” James said hastily, “are we going to take this shot or what?”

“Sooner is better than later,” Remus said, nodding his head over to the group of Slytherins that were following Lily back over to your table. You all clinked the glasses together and took the shot, chasing it with sips of your soda, or in Sirius’s case chasing it with Lily’s shot. 

“Look who’s here!” Lily said with a nervous smile. Snape was glowering at the group as was Barty. Regulus was only glaring at you. 

“Reg,” Sirius said coldly. 

“Sirius. You look like Bellatrix.” Regulus said, He hadn’t meant it to be funny but you all burst out laughing.

“You do!” Remus said between gasps for air. 

“I’m going to go buy,” Sirius took a minute to count, “eight shots for myself.” 

“Don’t be like that, Black!” Barty called after Sirius as he took a seat next to Remus at the table. The energy was a little uncomfortable at first but you quickly learned that the Slytherins had no experience in holding muggle liquor and they were very, very drunk. But, you all were very drunk to the point were words were being slurred. 

“I can get the next round,” you said, standing up and immediately stumbling. Regulus reached out to steady you. 

“Thanks Mrs. Potter!” Remus called. 

“I’ll help,” Regulus said, following you to the bar. 

“Thanks Reg. You know, you’re not so bad.” You said with a giggle, reaching up to ruffle Regulus’s hair. 

“I hate you,” Regulus said. He had been chuckling so you chuckled back but his face became stony as he looked at you again, “I hate you so much. So much. It eats away at me. It makes my stomach hurt. Every time I see you I think about how much I want you dead.” 

“Regulus,” you breathed in sharply and wrapped your fingers around the wand that was stuck in the waistband of your pants. You didn’t want to think about the consequences of using magic in front of a giant group of muggles but if Regulus really did mean you harm, the consequences of not using magic would be much worse. 

“Everything okay over here?” James asked, his hand on your lower back. 

“Fine,” you said, your heart still hammering inside your chest, “I’m going to get some air.” You walked out the back area of the bar where a few people were out there smoking cigarettes and talking on the payphone. There was a couple that were furiously making out and looked like they were near the point of stripping layers. You looked a little closer and saw it was Mary and Roman, unsurprisingly. You leaned back against the wall and fished a cigarette from your pocket and started patting up and down your pants for your lighter. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, looking around to see if anyone around looked kind enough to lend their lighter. The scarce few smokers didn’t seem very friendly and more and more people were leaving the creepy back area by the minute. 

“Need a light?” you heard a voice ask. You looked up gratefully but immediately drew your wand when you saw that it was Regulus. He was holding out a lighter but you refused, pointing your wand directly in his face.

“Get away from me, Regulus.”

“You didn’t let me explain,” Regulus took a step towards you but you snapped, 

“Don’t come closer.” 

“Okay,” Regulus said, his hands up. “I hate you because I’m so jealous. I’m so jealous of you and James.”

“Me and James?” You said, lowering your wand slightly. 

“I just,” Regulus pressed his fingers to his temples, “I haven’t been able to think since that night in the history classroom.”

“Oh,” your heart was thudding in your chest but for a different reason now. James made his way outside and said,

“What’s going on?” He looked between you and Regulus and saw your wand drawn and he stood in front of you, drawing his own wand, “What did you do, Regulus?”

“James.” You finally lowered your wand and put your hand on James’ arm. “He wants you.”

“What?” James looked at you like you were insane. 

“He wants you.” You repeated. James looked back and saw Regulus’s expression. It was odd, Regulus had a look of yearning and desire and a it was a little pathetic but you thought it was also kind of attractive. And it was certainly having a similar effect on James. His brown eyes were lust blown and he was breathing heavier than usual. He lowered his wand and looked at Regulus, 

“Is that true?”

“Yes,” Regulus nodded. Before you could discuss anything further, Sirius stumbled out, laughing drunkenly. 

“Hey, so I,” he paused as he took stock of the situation, “everything okay?”

“Fine.” You said quickly. 

“Anyway. Peter threw up everywhere so they’re kicking us out of the pub. You all ready to apparate back?” 

You all apparated back to Hogsmeade. There was an odd energy between you, James, and Regulus but everyone else seemed to be too drunk to notice. Sirius was practically hanging on you with his arm heavy over your shoulders. You had your arm around Sirius’ waist and you were using all your strength to keep him upright as he spouted his drunken nonsense. 

“Oh Mrs. Potter you’re so good to me.” Sirius giggled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Oh Mr. Lupin I wish you would walk on your own.” You responded. You saw in your peripheral vision that Regulus made a face when Sirius called you ‘Mrs. Potter’. 

“I think I can get him upstairs,” Remus said, pulling Sirius’ arm over his own shoulders and heading upstairs towards the Gryffindor dorms, Peter trailing behind them. Barty and Snape made their back downstairs towards the Slytherin dorms and you, James, and Regulus were left alone in the corridor. 

“We should talk,” James said. 

“Let’s get out of the corridor before we get a detention.” You said. James nodded and pulled out the marauders map.

“Looks like the charms classroom is open.” James grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the charms classroom. You stretched your own hand out to Regulus but he shook his head and followed a few paces behind. 

“What did you look at?” Regulus asked, looking over at the map that James was pushing back into his pocket. 

“Just a map,” James said quickly. You made it to the charms classroom and you sat on top of one of the tables and just watched James and Regulus. 

Regulus was nervous, you could practically hear his heavy heartbeat. James, curiously, did not seem very nervous. He was looking at Regulus with a calm and even expression.

“What did you say to my girlfriend?” He asked. 

“What?” Regulus was gasping for breath. He looked uncomfortable under the piercing gaze of James’ dark eyes. 

“You must have said something to her to make her draw her wand at the bar,” James seemed completely calm but you could see that his knuckles were white as he tightly gripped the edge of a desk. 

“I, I…” Regulus was just gaping and struggling to form thoughts. 

“He told me he hated me.” You said. 

“That’s unacceptable,” James shook his head. “Take your shirt off.” He said it so suddenly and which such force that you had your fingers on the hem of your own shirt before you realized that James was talking to Regulus, not to you. Regulus tore his shirt off and you took a moment to appreciate his delicate, blemishless skin. His skin was so fair you could almost see every single blue vein underneath. Regulus looked back up at you before looking back at James, waiting for the next command. 

“Take your panties off,” James said to you this time. You obeyed, pulling the red panties off and holding them in your hand. James walked over to you and took them in his own hands. He held them up to his nose and sniffed before focusing his attention back to Regulus.

“She smells good, Regulus. So good.” 

“Can I,” Regulus wet his lips and cleared his throat, “Can I taste?”

“On your knees.” James nodded and Regulus dropped to his knees. James walked over to you and stuck two of his fingers deep inside you. You gasped and grasped James’ wrist in surprise. He didn’t keep his fingers inside you for long and he took them out almost as quickly as they were in. He walked over and held his outstretched fingers in front of Regulus’ lips. Regulus wrapped his lips around James’ fingers and sucked like his life depended on it. James grabbed Regulus’ jaw roughly and pushed his fingers down deeper into Regulus’ mouth. Regulus took them well at first but James pushed his fingers farther and Regulus began to gag and his eyes were starting to water but he showed no other signs on resistance. 

“Good,” James said, a little breathless, as he removed his fingers. Regulus had a little bit of spit rolling down his chin as he kept his eyes trained on James. You felt soaking wet at the whole display and you shut your legs and started rubbing them together, trying to find some friction. Regulus’ eyes shot over to you then back to James. James then looked over at you. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” he said, walking over to you and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’ve been neglecting you.” He sunk down his knees and carefully parted your legs. He sent a look back at Regulus before diving into your pussy. His tongue entered and exited you quickly as his nose bumped up against your clit. Your fingers reached for his hair and you locked eyes with Regulus. Regulus was studying you like a painting as you moaned and bucked against James’ face. James added his fingers and pushed his mouth up to your clit and you were done for, panting and moaning until you came. James came back up and kissed you, his hand in your hair this time. He broke away and rested his forehead on yours, just staring at you. He stretched his arm out behind him and snapped his fingers at Regulus. 

“Come here.” He said, without even looking over at him. Regulus scampered over and sat on his knees again, looking up at James. 

“What do you want?” James asked Regulus, finally turning away from you. 

“You,” Regulus responded, his eyes big and starry. 

“Just me?”

“Just you.”

“Well you can’t have just me,” James said, gesturing to you, “we’re sort of a package deal.”

“I don’t want her,” Regulus pouted. 

“Hey!” James slapped Regulus across the face, ”watch your mouth.” 

“If it means I can have you, I’ll have her too,” Regulus said, swallowing against the lump in his throat. You felt awkward, uncomfortable, like you were intruding on a very private moment between James and Regulus. 

“It’s not entirely dependent on your terms,” James exhaled through his nose.

“No, no! I can be good. So good I swear,” Regulus said, sticking two of his own fingers in his mouth to wet them before sticking them inside you. You gasped and looked rapidly between James and Regulus. “I’ll be so good!” Regulus repeated, using his free hand to pull James pants down and spitting in his free hand before stroking James. 

Regulus was very talented with his hands, as evidenced by yours and James’ simultaneous moans. Regulus made you cum quickly and he pulled his fingers out of you to focus his attention on James. You got up off the table and joined Regulus, taking the tip of James’ cock into your mouth and kitten licking it. James was looking at you both, beneath him, with lust blown eyes. You outstretched your hand and gently pushed Regulus’ mouth towards James’ cock. Regulus took James into his mouth and you could hear him control his breathing as he took James as much as could. James was rougher with Regulus then he was with you and you could tell Regulus was trying to control his gag reflex but James was borderline fucking Regulus’ face. 

“James,” you said softly, putting your hand on James’ stomach to slow him, “be gentle.” James slowed his movements and let Regulus pull off and take a gasping breath. 

“I’m sorry,” James panted, “your mouth just felt so fucking good oh my god.” James ran a hand through his hair. 

“Don’t be.” Regulus said, “It was hot.” 

You were overcome for a moment and you pulled Regulus in and kissed him. Regulus was shocked at first but he kissed you back. It was sweet and gentle, lots of lips and tongue and soft breathy moans. You broke away and you pulled James down to your level. You gently pushed Regulus and James closer together until James finally crossed the distance and kissed Regulus. This was rougher, harder. More teeth and light biting and desperate moans. Regulus and James pulled away and James said, 

“I want to try something.”

“Anything for you,” Regulus responded. James positioned Regulus so he was above you and Regulus pushed into you. Regulus’ body was a contrast of yours. His sharp contours against your soft ones. James watched as Regulus fucked you. Then, James pushed himself into Regulus. Regulus released a strangled moan and practically collapsed on top of you, his face in your neck so you could hear his moans. You locked eyes with James and James leaned over Regulus’ body to kiss you. 

Regulus came first, inside you, an action that you would think about later. You came shortly after still around Regulus’s cock and you were far overstimulated but Regulus couldn’t pull out of you as James was still chasing his own orgasm. James finally came, pulling out Regulus quickly and cumming all over Regulus’ back. Regulus pulled out of you and you all just laid in the charms classroom for a few minutes, breathing and savoring the silence. 

“Sirius is going to be so mad when he finds out about this,” you said, chuckling at the shocked expression of the two men in front of you. 

Taglist: @skyesayshi

[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: self… induced… smut…. and some more flirting

//

Chapter Eight

John leaned his weary body up against the door to his room after it clicked shut behind him. His digs had never felt more empty, more dark or unwelcoming.

The last of the day’s light was still filtering in through his tiny, square window, alighting on the scratchy old carpet and highlighting a pile of textbooks he’d forgotten to put away the night before.

With a sigh, John flung his bags down on the floor, then carefully propped up his bass in the corner of the room. He let his fingertips drag along the spine of its leather case, a sort of thank you for helping him play so well tonight. It had become a ritual, though John would rather die than admit that, to himself or to anyone else.

His stomach growled, a dog pawing at the back door, waiting impatiently to be let in. John thought about making some dinner but it was late, he didn’t want to disturb the others as he crashed around in the kitchen. A cup of tea could have been a reasonable substitute, but the process (another usually calming, nostalgic ritual) seemed exhausting and tedious. He just wanted to sleep.

Luckily, John had a good amount of leftover food from the bakery stashed away. He grabbed a couple of the white boxes from his shelf and dragged open their satiny scarlet ribbons. You’d saved him again.

Chewing gratefully on a flaky croissant, John flopped down on his bed and closed his eyes. He was so tired, they stung at first and he had to blink a couple of times so push away the pain.

He polished off the croissant, flicking his fingers over the side of the bed to get rid of any remaining pastry crumbs. He already felt a little better.

John drew in a long breath then slowly released it again, until all the muscles in his body had finally unwound and he had sunk further into the mattress.

“You sure you won’t come in? The sofa’s got your name on it. Or, you know…”

John opened his eyes and stared blankly up at his low, beige ceiling.

How could he have been so stupid. You had stood on your doorstep, asking him, plain as day, if he wanted to stay the night, and just when it mattered most, he’d chickened out.

“You were such a good boy for me.”

John groaned. What a moron. He turned and pressed his face into the pillow. Maybe if he pushed hard enough, he’d get lucky and suffocate.

He could still feel your soft skin against his palm. John found himself curling his hand around the ghost of your cheek, his eyes closing as he pictured you gazing up at him, smiling, always smiling.

“They need you, New Boy.”

“Don’t you need me?”

“I want you, that’s different.”

You got all shy after you said that. John didn’t think he’d ever seen you look so bashful. You wanted him. He knew it. And, God, he wanted you too.

It was late. He had an exam in the morning. He was still hungry and dehydrated after the show. He’d said ‘no’ to you like an idiot. He really shouldn’t do anything but sleep.

John unbuckled his belt with one hand.

He closed his eyes and pictured you laying beside him, the what-would-have-been if he hadn’t been such a colossal git. With a soft, relieved groan, he forced his hand down the front of his trousers, just as the you he’d conjured in his head kissed him hard enough to bruise.

/

Not too far away, you were also staring at the ceiling. Try as you might, you couldn’t sleep. You’d eaten late, you’d stayed up too long, you had a million things to worry about - you’d almost managed to convince yourself these were the reasons you couldn’t drop off. Almost.

With a sigh, you turned over onto your side.

You could still feel John’s big hands in yours. You loved those hands. Skilled in electronics and an expert at the bass. He’d probably play with you just as well, if not better.

You sighed dolefully.

Maybe if you’d been more insistent, if you’d asked again and maybe been more obvious about what you wanted, John would’ve followed you home and you wouldn’t be lying here, alone, pressing your thighs together and trying to ignore the ache between them.

You stared at the wall. You stared and stared and stared, willing sleep to claim you. Behind your closed eyes, images of John on stage awaited you, daring you to do something about how delicious he looked that night.

“Oh, fuck it.”

You stuck two fingers in your mouth and swirled your tongue around them, the way you’d been picturing John doing ever since his trick with the ring. His lovely, funny mouth. You’d give anything to have it between your legs right now.

Whispering softly to yourself, you closed your eyes and imagined how it might’ve started, what you might’ve done if you’d been brave enough to entice him in properly, and all the while you gently coaxed at your swollen clit

You’d have to sit in his lap again. You’d simply die if you didn't get the chance to do that again soon. John had felt so small beneath you but so warm and sturdy too. You could wrap his hair around your fingers as you lazily kissed him, whispering sweetly against his lips as he gasped and rocked his hips against yours.

So close to each other, you seemed to be sharing one breath, you imagined yourself breaking away to mouth down his neck, sinking your teeth in here, sucking a dark mark there, until John was whining and struggling to sit still.

/

His face burning, John pictured you under him, your arms wrapped around his middle, your lovely hands pressing into his back and keeping him close as you moaned into his mouth. He wanted to make you feel so good, just wanted to make you see how much he cared about you with his lips, his hands, his teeth and his tongue.

But it didn’t seem right. His very limited experience (and magazines he would rather die than you ever find out he read) were a guide, but those girls weren’t you. For some reason, John knew this wasn’t how it would go and something in the back of his head was telling him to flip the situation.

You, with your champagne smile and daggerish words. You weren’t going to let anyone push you around, especially not him, especially not when it came to sex. You’d back him up against the wall and push your knee between his thighs, your hands on his hips, squeezing tight as you whispered awful, naughty things against his lips that made his knees buckle.

John wriggled out of his trousers and pants, so desperate he didn’t even bother pushing them both all the way down. He raised his hand to his face, dragged his tongue across his palm, and immediately wrapped his hand around his cock again, squeezing and tugging desperately as he imagined you pushing him flat on his back and smiling down at him.

He moved his free hand so that it rested up by his head, just where he knew you’d place it, and tried to imagine your fingers wrapped tight around his wrist, your nails just beginning to sink into his skin.

“Fuck…” John hissed between his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut.

/

“Fuck- John…”

Your face flushed. You hadn’t meant for his name to slip out. But God, it felt good. It felt right. It felt perfect.

You drew your knee up then let it flop to the side, giving you better access, and all the while you thought about John’s lovely hands pushing your thighs apart so that he could bury his face between them.

“God, you’re so good, you’re so good…” you muttered to yourself, finding your own praises and moans turned you on even more as you rubbed at your clit.

Pictures flooded through your head. You couldn't settle on just one for very long. John’s tongue pressing inside you, his pretty mouth falling open as you slipped your hand around his throat and squeezed gently, the look in those clever grey eyes as he rocked his hips into yours. It was all so much, too much, and even though you felt a flash of guilt for thinking about John like that, it was soon drowned out by the soft little moans and grunts you knew he’d make as you sank down onto him and rode him within an inch of his life.

/

Sweat beaded John’s forehead as he twisted his wrist in just the right way, thumbing at the slit of his cock just to tease himself. His bottom lip clamped between his teeth, he fucked his hand, his eyes squeezing shut as warmth began to pool in the pit of his stomach.

It had been so long since he’d been able to get himself off. The stress of uni, coming home exhausted after gigs, never having much time on his own, it meant it had been weeks since he’d been able to touch himself like this. And now he had a million ideas he’d never allowed himself to entertain before, ideas about you.

Your knees pressing into his sides as you straddled him, the way you’d moan softly as you looked down at him, approving, studying him like you did your recipes, your lovely eyes switching back and forth across his face, his chest, his stomach - now much softer than when he started - and down and down and down.

John groaned, letting his wrist go limp as his hand slipped up and down his cock. He kept trying not to let his hips leave the bed, but it was too much, soon his back was arching like the girls in his magazines.

“Come on, sweet boy…” Your voice, so real he could almost believe you were murmuring by his ear, was soft and sweet and oh so in control. “Are you gonna cum for me, honey? Gonna cum just from being inside me at last?”

John bit his lip harder, trying not to make a sound, but the growing pressure pooling below his navel made it almost impossible. The hand he’d laid by his head made its way into his tangled hair, still damp with sweat from the gig. John wrapped his curls around his fingers and tugged, hard, a move that made him let out an embarrassingly reedy groan.

“That’s it, good boy. Good boy… You look so perfect like this, Johnny. Could cum just from watching you touch yourself. Come on, pretty boy, let me hear you…”

/

You were so wet, you could hear your fingers as they worked. It made your cheeks prickle. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had made you feel like this, so desperate and single-minded.

All you could think about was John, how he’d look beneath you, how he’d whine and gasp as you rode him, his hands up above his head, his pretty chest rising and falling raggedly as he tried to catch his breath, his whole body covered in a sheen of sweat.

You knew he’d let you do anything you wanted. You knew he’d beg you to touch him, to look at him, to take him to places he didn’t think were possible, and wouldn’t stop until you were finished with him. Such a smart, enthusiastic boy.

You could picture him sitting up against the headboard, his face pressed between your breasts as you rocked your hips, his hands gripping your hips, your arse, as he mouthed at your flushed skin, leaving trails of kisses and bites and saliva in his wake.

/

He’d turn up at rehearsals the next day, covered from head to toe in love bites and bite marks, a map of your lips, and he’d wear them all with pride.

John huffed sharply through his nose, his eyes rolling back as he fucked his hand.

Come on, come on, come on, so close, so close, so close…

He pulled at his hair again, just as something began to tighten in his lower belly, and John’s back arched off the bed again, his eyes rolling shut as he whispered to himself.

“Please, please, please… Fuck- Ah!”

He came moaning your name, his mouth hanging open as pleasure rolled through his body. He bent double, folded like a deckchair, the hardest he’d ever cum in his life. John’s hips jerked out of rhythm but he didn’t stop moving his hand, because he knew you wouldn’t. He didn’t stop until it started to ache.

John let his body flop back onto the bed, completely spent. He’d never made that much noise before. He just prayed his neighbours hadn’t heard him.

/

Across the city, your fingers were starting to cramp but, determined, you kept your pace.

Always so obedient. Always so eager to do well. And not for just anyone, for you. Oh, you’d seen the way John preened every time you paid him the littlest compliment, how he beamed with pride whenever you were sweet to him and how eager he seemed to reassure you that you could do anything you wanted to him.

“You’re in charge, Captain.”

Maybe you could learn to like the nickname.

And maybe it wouldn’t take much convincing to get John to let you have him, his lovely hair strewn across the pillow, his back back arching off the bed as you slipped inside him. God, how he’d bounce and roll his hips, his moans rising higher and higher as he begged you to fuck him harder.

“Fu- Johnnn…”

The band across your belly snapped, and you came moaning the delivery boy’s name.

Exhausted, you let your body sink into the bed. Already, you could feel sleep beginning to overwhelm you. You just about had the wherewithal to pull your hand from the front of your pants before you turned over and fell right asleep, your body still pulsing and your mind still buzzing with the thought of John’s whines of pleasure, and the way his hands had felt in yours as he walked you home.

/

The next morning, you danced around the bakery’s shop floor, wiggling your hips and kicking up your heels as you tugged tables and their accompanying chairs into place. It did occur to you why you might’ve been in such a good mood but you chose to ignore that.

Cold, morning sunshine flooded in as you placed some of the goods you’d baked that morning in the window, then the rest behind the display counter. All the while, you sang along with the radio, waggling your head to T-Rex and smiling to yourself.

The world seemed at ease, just for a moment.

“Well, she ain't no witch and I love the way she twitch, uh-huh. I'm her two-penny prince and I give her hot love, uh-huh…”

A sharp knock at the door made you look up. It was about quarter past five, the bakery wouldn’t be open for more than an hour, so you immediately went into defensive mode. Thankfully, you recognised the face pressed up against the glass.

“Roger?”

You opened the door.

John’s drummer almost fell into the shop but he caught himself well.

“Alright, Bakery Girl?”

Roger grinned, wide and youthful, and clearly unaffected by the early hour. He was bundled up in a warm jacket, his shoulders drawn right up to his ears as he glanced over your shoulder into the dark, empty bakery.

You had to smile. This boy was even easier to read than John.

“I’m good, I’m good, yeah. It’s a nice mornin’, innit?” You nodded over your shoulder. “D’you wanna cuppa to take to work with you?”

Roger accepted your offer so eagerly, he almost tripped over his own feet getting through the door.

“You’re in a good mood,” he said, perching on one of the tables you’d set out.

You realised you were still humming to yourself. Try as you might, you couldn’t force down your smile.

“Just- You know.” You shrugged, trying not to look too sheepish. “How’s the market?”

“It’s fun! Hard but… We’re surviving. Barely make enough money to eat but it’s a good laugh.”

He spoke with such brevity, the soft corners of his pretty mouth tugged back into a toothy smile. Still, his words struck you. Roger and Freddie seemed so happy, so at ease in themselves, that you’d hardly believe they were struggling. You made a conscious decision to add them to your list of scrawny, ridiculous boys who needed looking after.

“Well, that’s all that matters, I s’pose,” you said, forcing a smile.

If Roger noticed your worry, he didn’t show it. He was too busy eyeing up the cakes and pastries behind the glass display case.

“Fred’s got this mate in Chiswick says he’s got a ton of swimwear and things for us. It’ll be summer soon, people’ll want stuff like that. Then maybe we can rent a bigger patch in the market. Maybe start selling LPs as well.”

“That’s the dream then, eh?”

“Oh, no,” Roger raised his head, his pretty eyes wide and soft in the low light. “No, the dream is… Walking out of EMI with a contract and my best mates… The whole world and our whole lives out in front of us. That’s the dream. Me and my mates, working together and seeing the world. I want to make things, you know? Be useful. Help people. Help someone.”

He couldn’t know it, but Roger had single-handedly unwound all your worries about your future with John. The way he spoke about it, it seemed so easy, like he was talking about any other job, and the warmth in his voice… Roger really believed it would happen for them. They were going to make it. Maybe you didn’t have to focus your energy on a plan you’d devised years ago. Maybe you could afford to have the same faith Roger did.

“Well,” you said, smiling too now. “When you put it like that.”

Roger sighed with an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders.

“It’s just a dream, Bakery Girl. But that’s all I’ve got.”

“What about John? What’s his dream?”

“Something a lot more pedestrian, I think.” Roger raised his eyebrows. “You probably factor in somewhere.”

Face burning, you turned away to make his tea.

“Shu’ up.”

“Ahh, you know I’m right. I reckon he still thinks he’s gonna end up working in some lab or drawing up blueprints, or somethin’. We’re working on an album, you know. But I think he still thinks it’s just a laugh.”

“But it’s not?”

Roger smiled but his bright eyes, blue as the sea he grew up by, were serious and certain.

“No.”

You twisted your mouth.

“Rockstar or genius scientist.”

“I know. Leave some for the rest of us.”

You both took a moment to marvel at John’s seemingly unlimited potential. Then Roger smiled.

“Has he asked you out yet? I’ve been coaching him. Trying to make him act for once in his bloody life. Grab the bull by the horns.” He waved a hand. “So to speak.”

It proved too difficult to hide your smile, so you gave up trying. Instead, you passed him two steaming paper cups and warned him that they were still too hot to drink from just yet.

While the tea steeped, you set about putting together his breakfast.

“I dunno,” you shrugged. “I could ask him out.”

“Oh, I’d love to watch that.” Roger laughed and shook his head. “He’s great, isn’t he. I really like him. Most people just…”

He made an ineffectual sound and waved his hand again. It seemed Roger too had had his fair share of people letting him down, sadly just by being fundamentally people.

You followed his hand as it came to rest by his thigh again. His fingertips were bandaged. John’s fingers had felt a little coarse the few rare, wonderful times he’d brushed them against your skin. These boys wounded themselves, altered themselves for what they loved. You thought of your own scarred, roughened hands. There was a kinship there you never could have imagined.

“But John’s great. Always there when you need him. Brian bores me half to death most of the time but John’s clever in a nice way. You don’t feel like you’re being quizzed ‘n’ tested when you’re with him. You’re just… With him.”

Roger had the faraway look of someone realising just how lucky he was. You knew he wasn’t just talking up his friend, he really believed every word. You’d never seen someone so proud or so fond of his friends.

“Anyway, he’s a pain in my arse too, don’t get me wrong. But he’s great.”

Beaming, you passed Roger a bag filled with pastries, and a carrier for his and Freddie’s morning cuppas.

“I think so too.”

/

“New Boy!”

The shout was so sudden, John almost fell off his bike. He gripped the handles tight, wobbling dangerously as he stuck out his heels and dragged himself to a slow and graceless stop.

It was late in the afternoon. John had just finished his last round of deliveries and was looking forward to spending the rest of his day with you, helping out in the kitchen, and trying not to think about kissing you - the usual day to day.

You were standing in the bakery’s doorway, smiling so broadly, orbiting astronauts could probably see it. You were keeping the door propped open with one hand, the other was outstretched towards him.

“Mickey’s ‘ere! And he brought the baby!”

Before he knew it, John had been ushered inside. Your lovely hands switched dizzyingly between his hips and the small of his back as you guided him to the kitchen, where Mickey was waiting with a tiny bundle of pink cloth gathered up in his enormous arms.

“Oh, Mick…” John couldn’t help beaming as he leaned in to take a closer look. “She’s lovely.”

There had been photos posted up by the phone for weeks now, of little Dot just a few hours old, waving one tiny hand at the camera. You’d put up a few more recent pictures of Mickey and his family just the other day, all of the Caines squashed together to fit in frame. Nothing compared to seeing something so small and beautiful in person for the first time.

“She’s a righ’ terror,” Mickey beamed down at his little girl. “Drives her mother insane. An’ her old dad. Reckon she’s gonna be singer with the way she goes on. Maybe she could front your band one day, Johnny Boy.”

“She’d give Freddie a run for his money, I bet.”

John held out one finger and brushed it delicately across the back of one of Dot’s tiny fists.

“So, who does she look like more, d’you reckon? You or Rita?” he asked.

You snorted.

“You’re ‘avin a laugh. She’s perfect. She’s all Rita.”

“Ahhh, she’s got my charm. And my devilish good looks.”

Mickey finally tore his gaze away from his little girl to smile at John.

“Do you wanna hold her?”

“Me? Are you sure? I’ve never really…”

“Don’t be daft. C’mon, you’re part of the family now.”

With careful instructions on how to position his arms, Mickey gently passed Dot over, settling her against John’s chest.

The baby made a soft sound of disapproval, she never liked being far from her father’s warm, broad chest, but she soon settled. Her eyes closed, Dot sighed softly and went right back to sleep.

“There. You see?” Mickey patted John’s shoulder with a hand the size of a bear’s paw. “You’re a natural, mate. Won’t be long till you’ve got a few of your own.”

It took all John’s strength not to glance at you.

“She’s amazing, Mickey.”

John smiled as he ever so gently began to sway from side to side, trying to remember how his parents had soothed his little sister when she was just a baby.

He only looked up when he felt your hand on his arm. You were looking down at Dot, smiling gently, but your warm touch, the way your fingers pressed into him, that was a secret, just for the two of you.

“She’s so perfect. Shame you didn’t name her after me but…” You grinned. “Hang on, I have to take a photo. Stay right there, don’t move.”

John watched you go. He didn’t tear his gaze away until the door up to your flat had clicked shut behind you.

It was strange, but he already missed you. Just being near you set his whole body at ease. He could think clearer, his heart kept a regular pace, at least, until you smiled at him, or touched him, or looked in his general direction. When you were gone, it all came rushing back, like the pressure in the room had changed. He’d never needed to be near someone before.

John caught Mickey smiling at him and turned his attention back to the baby in his arms, hoping he didn’t look as he felt, like a love struck idiot who couldn’t concentrate whenever you weren’t around, let alone when you were.

“So,” Mickey was grinning now, much to John’s chagrin. “How’s things with you and the Captain?”

“They’re good.” John kept his eyes down, hoping in vain that it would obscure how red his face was getting. “We’ve been seeing quite a lot of each other but… No official date yet.”

“So you’re not goin’ together?”

John grimaced.

“I haven’t really asked her properly. It’s my fault,” he said sheepishly.

Dot began to fuss in John’s arms. She raised one of her little fists in the air, as if she too disapproved of his cowardliness.

Mickey reached over. John thought he might want to take his little girl back but he just brushed one finger across her clenched fist and whispered to her sweetly. Dot settled again, a look of contentment on her angelic face.

“She’s like her dad. Never ‘appy unless she’s complainin’.” Mickey smiled fondly. “So what’s keeping you? Last time I saw you, seemed like things were movin’ along a bit.”

“They were. They have.”

John thought about the night before, how soft and open your eyes had been as you gazed up at him. He had held your face, your hands, practically admitted everything he felt for you, and you’d smiled and said you wanted him too. God, why hadn’t he kissed you?

Because, John thought, because he was afraid. Even after everything you’d said, everything you’d done together, he was terrified that you didn’t actually care about him, and this was all a roll of the dice that would end with him losing the first place he’d felt safe in years, and a second family he didn’t want to ever say goodbye to. And he could lose you too. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” John said quietly. “Not like that?”

Mickey shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“She does.”

John huffed.

“She thinks I’m useless.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“She thinks I’m quiet and funny-looking-”

“She thinks the world of you, you muppet-”

“And too skinny.”

“She loves you!”

The words hung in the air, like dust after a building collapses, crawling and curling their way through the kitchen, until they had filled John’s eyes, his lungs, his mind.

He blinked, heart sore, begging Mickey not to make fun of him with just a look. But Mickey nodded earnestly as he tucked Dot’s blanket under her back, as if promising her, or perhaps on her, that he would never joke about something so serious.

“She adores you, mate,” he said, just before the door opened again and you came bounding through, camera in hand.

“Okay, hold still. Say cheese!”

John tried his best to lower his head so that he and Dot would be in frame together without disturbing her. He felt Mickey wrap an arm around his shoulders and realised he was smiling without having to be told.

The camera clicked, flashed, then whirred as it spat out the polaroid.

“That’s one for the album,” you said as you stared at the photo, waiting for it to develop. “Shame Glad isn’t here. Where is she?”

Mickey scoffed.

“She ‘avin’ lunch with his nibs.”

“Well then,” You placed your free hand on your hip. “I’d say that’s lunch then, boys.”

You didn’t flip back the sign on the door. John tried not to look too surprised, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen you pass off an opportunity to keep the bakery open. Money was tight, this place was your whole world, you had a lot invested in 64 Oslo Square.

Perhaps you’d simply grown tired of working yourself to exhaustion when Gladys couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Perhaps it didn’t feel right to work when there was such an important visitor. John didn’t care what had driven this decision. He was just pleased to see you take some time for yourself. You’d more than earned an afternoon in the sun with your family.

/

You took John’s hand and led him across the road to the chippy, where you handed over loaves of bread, sweet pastries, and cups of tea in return for three bags of chips, cod for Mickey and a battered sausage for you and John. Michael’s Fish Bar had been kicking about for almost as long as the bakery; this bartering system had existed for far longer than you’d worked at 64 Oslo Square.

After dishing everything out, you pressed a plate into John’s hands and led him out through the kitchen doorway to the alley. You sat down together, side by side on the top step, your knees touching, and happily tucked into salty, hot chips that burnt the tongue and soothed the soul.

“So what’re you reading at the moment?” John asked, after a few minutes of comfortable silence had passed.

Beside you, Dot gurgled in her pram. You hadn’t had much experience around children, especially babies as tiny as her, but you knew enough to gingerly push the buggy’s back wheel with the toe of your shoe, gently rocking her back into her dreams.

“Oh, nothing at the moment. Been too busy,” you said through a mouthful of chips. “You got any recommendations?”

“Uni is so intense right now, all my suggestions would be written by Seymour Hammond.”

“Right,” you said, bewildered. “No, yeah. He’s fab.”

John picked up another chip and stared at it. He was chewing on his bottom lip, tugging the skin between his incisors as he thought.

You watched, mesmerised.

“You know, when I first moved here, I hated London. The smell, the crowds…”

“The price of fish and chips.”

That made John smile. He stopped worrying his lip and finally popped the chip into his mouth.

“But when I’m here, I see it.”

“See what?”

“Home, I suppose. This place feels like home. Or it’s starting to, at least. Does that make sense?”

In the ocean of your heart, something was stirring. Towering waves of fondness, warmth, and something you were beginning to seriously suspect might be love, rose up, crested, then broke, washing over your heart again and again, gently but firmly, undeniably.

“I think you’re a bit mental but… Yeah, it makes sense.”

You glanced over your shoulder. Mickey was on the phone to his wife, letting her know he’d be home soon and asking if she needed him to pick up anything on his way. You and John were alone.

You shrugged.

“Maybe it’s Gladys’ tea.”

John snorted.

“Or the free food.”

“Or the good company.”

“You do tend to make things a bit brighter, I’ve found.”

John looked at you, really looked at you. Gone were the days when he could hardly hold your gaze. Long gone. He had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen.

“I don’t fancy your drummer,” you said, cheeks beginning to burn at how abrupt you’d sounded.

John’s eyebrows pulled together, his nose wrinkling.

“I didn’t-”

“I know you think I do. He’s nice but he’s not my type.”

John didn’t look convinced but he was still smiling.

“I thought you liked pretty boys.”

“I do.” Heart pounding, you turned your body towards his. “Pretty boys with pretty hair and lovely eyes, cute noses and a funny mouth.”

“My mouth isn’t funny.”

“Then why are you smiling?” You grinned. “Very presumptuous of you, by the way, John.”

Pink dusted his cheeks. It was such a lovely sight, you could barely resist brushing your fingertips along the path laid out for you, across his cheek, down his neck, to his chest and beyond.

Then he moved, turning his body in towards yours, so now your knees were pressed against his upper leg. John was so tense, you could practically feel the muscles in his thigh jump at your touch.

He lowered his head, as if to whisper in your ear, but his eyes never left yours.

“Call it a theory,” John said. “One I’ve been mulling over for a while.”

You watched, hardly daring to breathe, as he leaned in closer. Your fingers itched to wrap around the collar of his shirt and pull him in, but the thought of moving right now seemed impossible.

“And have you managed to mull up a hypothesis?”

“Oh, definitely,” John’s eyes dropped to your mouth. “Trust me, I’ve had lots of thoughts about you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m having one right now, actually.”

You wanted to respond with something clever. You wanted to take the next step in this dance you’d fallen into. You wanted to see if you could make John’s ears go as red as his cheeks. But you couldn’t think of anything to say. You couldn’t think at all.

You felt your hand move without your say so. It slipped over his knee and found a home on John’s thigh, keeping him close, keeping yourself grounded.

He was looking at you so intently, you could hardly breathe. Sunbeams filtered into the alley, light particles that had travelled hundreds of thousands of miles, just to get tangled in John’s lovely hair. The shadow cast by his aquiline nose, the tiny smile at the corner of his brilliant mouth, the softness of his gaze. How could you resist?

“John…”

Your heart was aching in your chest, pressing against your ribs, pushing you forward towards him. You had to draw in a breath to try and ease the pressure in your chest, but it shuddered through, and there was no way John couldn’t have noticed.

He smiled, sweet and reassuring, as he bent his head, murmuring your name under his breath.

Footsteps behind you made you straighten up. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d closed your eyes.

“‘Scuse me, lovebirds,” Mickey barged between you carrying two enormous black rubbish bags. “Bin man comes at seven.”

You weren’t violent by nature, but suddenly the idea of knocking Mickey’s lights out and shoving him into a dustbin seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea.

John looked about as mortified as you felt. But he was still enticingly close. He hadn't moved away.

You were still squeezing his thigh. Part of your brain screamed at you to take your hand back, to apologise and pretend like it had never happened. But there was another voice, braver, softer, that told you it was alright, to just trust yourself, to trust John, and to never, ever let him go.

“John, I-”

The bakery door opened. You turned your head in the direction of the sound, frowning quizzically. That was odd, you thought, you’d definitely locked it.

Then you heard Gladys’ voice. She was calling out for you. Something twisted in your chest, though you couldn’t be sure why.

Squeezing John’s thigh reassuringly, you gave him a quick smile.

“Don’t move,” you said firmly, then scrambled to your feet before he could say any more.

You didn’t look back as you hurried through the kitchen. If you did, you feared you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from grabbing his face and having another go at kissing him senseless.

Heart still hammering, you made your way into the bakery where Gladys was standing in the centre of the shop floor. She looked pale, her usually lively eyes dull and almost unseeing.

For a moment, you worried that she was angry with you for shutting the shop. You tried to summon a smile, your hands automatically reaching out to make her a cup of tea.

“Gladys! I thought you were-” You cleared your throat, your mind still spinning from the dark, soft look in John’s eyes as he leaned in to kiss you. “Doesn’t matter. Mick’s here and he brought the little’un!”

“Where is everyone?”

Gladys’ voice was hollow. She was gripping a slip of paper in her hands so tightly, you could see it was beginning to tear.

“They’re outside having a fag. Well, Mickey’s having a fag and John’s got chips. We just stopped for a late lunch.”

When she didn’t say anything, you frowned.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“He’s taken it.”

“Taken..?” You shook your head, trying to ignore the sickening, churning dread in the pit of your belly. “Who, Glad? What’s going on?”

“Alastair,” she whispered the name like it was bad luck. And perhaps it was. “He’s taken the bakery.”

Time slowed, choked, before finally falling to its knees. An age passed. Civilisations came and went. Stars burned and died. And all you could do was stare. The bakery had never been so silent.

“What are you talking about?” you asked once you’d found your voice again, hoarse and reedy as it was.

Gladys’ face crumpled like the paper in her hands.

“I shouldn't have. I know I shouldn't have but he- The way he explained things, it… He had me change the names on the deeds. It felt like a good idea at the- It’s his. It’s all his.”

Tears filled Gladys’ eyes.

“It’s gone, love. It's gone. Alastair owns the bakery.

//

Master List

[ohsweetiep1e]

HOUSE RULES

requests are currently open 🎀

16+ nsfw blog !!

Rules

I write for pretty far out things but don’t be weird

I ONLY WRITE READER AS A TOP

Only x Reader

Any gender

Mostly smut unless i have a really good fluff prompt

other then that my blog is pretty free game just the obvious don’ts

WHO I WRITE FOR

Almost every Rory Culkin character

James Hetfield

Kirk Hammet

Lars Ulrich

Dave Mustaine

Nikki Sixx

Tate Langdon

Micheal Afton

Mattheo Riddle

Enzo Berkshire

Coriolanus Snow

Theo Nott

Spencer Reid

Tom Keifer

j.d ( heathers )

John Deacon

Roger Taylor

Jareth from the labrynth

- this list is subject to change -

[silkfyre]

W.I.D

The following content does not limit the type of requests I accept. If there is a topic or character that is not listed, but you wish to have included feel free to ask! If I’m ever uncomfortable with something I will simply deny the request.

HIGHLIGHTED names are my personal favorite characters. 

WRITING

Fluff

Smut

Angst

Yandere

Violence

Dub-Con

Polyamory

OTHER

Fancasts

Writing Tips

Script Creation

Character Building

CHARACTERS

HORROR

The Boy

Brahms Heelshire

The Quarry

Abigail Blyg

Emma Mountebank

Jacob Custos

Laura Kearney

Max Brinley

Ryan Erzahler

Travis Hackett

The Lost Boys

David

Dwayne

Marko

Michael

Paul

House of Wax

Bo Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Thomas Hewitt (Leatherface)

Halloween

Michael Myers

Scream

Billy Loomis

Randy Meeks

Stu Macher

American Horror Story

James Patrick March

Jimmy Darling

Yellowjackets

Lottie Matthews

Misty Quigley

Natalie Scatorccio

Shauna Sadecki

Taissa Turner

Van Palmer

SCI-FI

The Boys

A-Train

Billy Butcher

Black Noir

Frenchie

Homelander

Hughie Campbell

Kimiko Miyashiro

Mother's Milk

Queen Maeve

Soldier Boy

Starlight

Detroit: Become Human

Chloe

Conner

Gavin Reed

Hank Anderson

Josh

Kara

Luther

Markus

North

Ralph

Rk600 (Sixty)

RK900 (Nines)

Simon

Fallout

Fallout 4

Deacon

John Hancock

Nick Valentine

Paladin Danse

Piper Shaw

Preston Garvey

Robert MacCready

Fallout (series)

Aspirant Dane

Chet

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul)

Knight Maximus

Lucy MacClean

Norm MacLean

Alien vs Predator

coming soon!

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

The Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon

Eugene Porter

James Cameron’s Avatar

Eetu

Lyle Wainfleet

Mansk

Miles Quaritch

Nor

So’lek

Teylan

Tsu’tey te Rongloa Ateyitan

SUPERNATURAL

TVD Verse

Bonnie Bennett

Caroline Forbes

Damon Salvatore

Elena Gilbert

Elijah Mikaelson

Finn Mikaelson

Jeremy Gilbert

Katherine Pierce

Kol Mikaelson

Niklaus Mikaelson

Rebekah Mikaelson

Stefan Salvatore

FANTASY

Baldur’s Gate 3

Astarion Ancunín

Dammon

Gale Dekarios

Halsin

Karlach Cliffgate

Lae’zel

Raphael

Rolan

Shadowheart

Wyll Ravengard

Zevlor

REALISM

Red Dead Redemption II

Albert Mason

Arthur Morgan

Charles Smith

Dutch Van Der Linde

Flaco Hernández

Javier Escuella

John Marston

Kieran Duffy

Sadie Adler

Call of Duty

John Price

John “Soap” MacTavish

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Grand Theft Auto

Franklin Clinton

Michael De Santa

Trevor Philips

Outer Banks

Pope Heyward

Rafe Cameron

Sarah Cameron

Topper Thornton

W.I.D.D

Notes :: There may be some things on these lists that are debatable. If they are something I’m willing to write under certain circumstances then it will be ITALICEZED.

WRITING

Racism

Ableism

Ageplay

Underage

Homophobia

Transphobia

Character x Character (w/o reader)

CHARACTERS

Bubba Sawyer

Freddy Krueger

Pennywise

[starstruckfangirlsposts]

Steamy Deaky fanfiction from @doubledeaky . Show the writer some love.💕

Art Deco

John Deacon x Female!Reader Smut

A/N: Hi, everyone! First, apologies for the lack of consistent updates for “See What a Fool I’ve Been.” The third part will definitely be out Monday or Tuesday. Until then, here’s some Freaky Deaky to tide you all over. This was inspired by @captain–americanna‘s post of this particular photo of John! Thank you for the inspiration dear! Ok, hope everyone enjoys! As always, feedback is very much appreciated! -m:)

Summary: You’re a fresh face on the Queen crew lineup; your main tasks - get all four of them from one venue to another in an orderly fashion, preferably sober, dressed, and ready to play. As the 1974 tour quickly approaches, you find yourself falling for a particular bassist. During their first show, John bares it all in a beyond extravagant outfit and you can’t control yourself any longer. Much to your surprise, neither can John.

Word Count: 6,176 words (oh my)

Warnings: some cursing and sexual content (18+ only please!) 

You were struggling to keep up with the suited man walking briskly before you, clipboard in hand. Your heeled feet ached under the quick pace, but you forced your legs to carry your weight at a speed that almost matched the man’s. This particular man was the tour manager for a particular rock band, that particular rock band being Queen. Despite the burn of your muscles, excitement reverberated from every corner of your body as the pair of you neared the recording studio that housed said rock band. While you were excited, you were also beyond nervous, terrified even. Being hired as a personal assistant and stylist for an up and coming band was honestly a dream come true but now that your dream had become reality, your stomach flipped violently with anxiety. You were nervous for a number of reasons. First, you were afraid that the band wouldn’t welcome you or that the five of you wouldn’t connect and you’d lose the job you so yearned for. Second, the idea of having to be in the constant company of four guys was daunting; you had no brothers growing up. You hoped you’d figure out how to handle them quickly. Third, you were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to handle the demands of the job and get the boot.

Keep reading

[bombsquad9]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝗼 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞

Hello! I am Ro, and I am 18-21 year old trans man. I write for many fandoms (which shall be listed below). This is indeed my second account, I deleted my last one because I needed to refresh everything (feed, posts, etc). I will try to post frequently, and if I do not then please be patient with me, because it probably means burn out or poor mental health. I also have a new Wattpad account, which the username is also bombsquad09 (it will also be linked below, along with a tag list). Every fandom and character within will be in alphabetical order. Some of the fandoms I do write for will not be listed, and that is due to me not taking requests for those specific fandoms. Thank you!

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝗼𝗺𝐬:

✞Apex Legends

—> Character(s): Catalyst, Caustic, Fuse, Horizon, Loba, Mirage, Octane, Revenant, Seer, Valkyrie, Wattson.

✞Call of Duty

—> Character(s): John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, John Price, König, Nikto, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

✞Fallout 4

—> Character(s): Cait, Codsworth, Deacon, John Hancock, Nick Valentine, Porter Gage, Preston Garvey, Robert MacCready.

✞House of Ashes

—> Character(s): Eric King, Jason Kolchek, Joey Gomez, Nick Kay, Rachel King, Salim Othman.

✞Just Ignore Them

—> Character(s): Brea, Mark, The Sheriff.

✞Mortal Kombat

—> Character(s): Johnny Cage, Kung Lao, Liu Kang, Noob Saibot.

✞Outlast

—> Character(s): Chris Walker, Eddie Gluskin, Jeremy Blaire, Miles Upshur, Richard Trager.

✞Resident Evil

—> Character(s): Ada Wong, Alcina Dimitrescu, Albert Wesker, Ashley Graham, Carlos Oliveira, Chris Redfield, Claire Redfield, Ethan Winters, Finn Macauley, Jake Muller, Jill Valentine, Leon Kennedy, Lucas Baker, Luis Sera, Nikolai Zinoviev, Piers Nivans, Sherry Birkin.

✞Subnautica

—> Character(s): AL-AN.

✞The Quarry

—> Character(s): Abigail Blyg, Dylan Lenivy, Emma Mountebank, Jacob Custos, Kaitlyn Ka, Max Brinly, Nick Furcillo, Ryan Erzahler.

✞Tomb Raider

—> Character(s): Lara Croft

✞Until Dawn

—> Character(s): Ashley Brown, Christopher Hartley, Emily Davis, Jessica Riley, Joshua Washington, Matthew Taylor, Michael Monroe, Samantha Giddings.

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬:

✞Transphobia, Homophobia, Racism, Sexism, Fetishizing, etc will not be tolerated. If you do anything related to any of those topics you will be blocked from my account.

✞Do NOT request things such as pedophilia, rape, zoophilia, etc . If anything you are requesting is like that you will be blocked from my account.

✞If you send hate in my anonymous inbox then you shall be ignored, and your message will be deleted. If you're going to be hatefully, don't be a pussy and hide behind an anon.

✞Minor shall interact with anything that is not labeled 18+/MDNI/smut. I can't stop you, nor am I going to carry out an investigation to find out if you're 18+. If you're a minor and you interact and see something you don't like; THATS NOT MY FAULT.

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝗺:

⚠︎︎Requests are currently open⚠︎︎

✞If you are requesting please be specific about what you want. This includes characters, setting, whether it's ship/xreader/headcanons, and other criteria you want. I can't make it what you want if you don't tell me.

✞I will write smut, fluff, and angst. Headcanons, ships, x readers, preferences, etc are all acceptable within reason.

—> When it comes to smut I will write quite a bit, even somewhat darker themes (Again; I draw the line at things like rape). I may not be good due to having lack of practice from where I didn't write for awhile, my apologies.

—> When it comes to angst, I will write almost anything. I will write (TW) suicide, alcoholism and other addictions, etc. Though, I won't write EDs or self-harm. Similarly to smut, it may not be good due to lack of practice, my apologies.

—> Anything out of reason would be minor x adult in a pedophilic/romantic way, human x animal (no, this does not include monsters) in a zoophilic/romantic way, etc.

✞Be patient, I will want to take my time on requests for various reasons. Sometimes I need breaks, sometimes I don't have any ideas, sometimes I will have writing sprees. It depends on the minute, so again, be patient. If you complain about how long it takes your request will be deleted and ignored.

✞If you want to be tagged for any specific character(s), then put your username in an orderly fashion on the Google doc that I will have linked below.

✞I will mostly write m!reader (AMAB and AFAB), but if you do want f!reader or gn!reader just let me know in your request, and I will do. If you do not specify I will either do m!reader or gn!reader by default. The only exception to this is if it is a lesbian/sapphic character.

✞ Any requested content will be Tumblr exclusives! Anything that is requested on my Wattpad will be Wattpad exclusive. (Excluding alphabets)

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭/𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭/𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝:

✞ Wattpad

✞ Masterlists

✞ Tag List

✞ Upcoming Works

⚠︎︎This post was last updated: 10/27/24⚠︎︎

[alina-dixon]

Fandoms I write for: (Part 4)

(I Only write x Male readers)

(smut is allowed!)

Call Of Duty: MW2

- Ghost / Simon Riley

- Soap / John McTavish

- Price / John Price

- König

- Alejandro Vargas

Black Butler:

- Sebastian Michaelis

- Ciel Phantomhive

- Claude Faustus

Ouran Highschool Host Club:

- Tamaki Suoh

- Kyoya Ootori

- Takashi Morinosuka/ Mori

Sally Face:

- Sal Fisher

- Larry Johnson

Mass Effekt Andromeda:

- Scott Rider

- Gil Brodie

- Reyes Vidal

Resident Evil Village:

- Ethan Winters

- Carl Heisenberg

- Chris Redfield

Resident Evil 2:

- Leon S. Kennedy

Days Gone:

- Deacon st. John

[swmzq]

MASTERLIST

(requests are open)

footballers

-joão félix

-paulo dybala Juno

-pablo gavi

-ferran torres please, please, please

-pedri gonzález

-fermín lopez

-sergio ramos

-jude bellingham

-ruben dias

-neymar jr

-kylian mbappe

-others

celebrities

-taylor swift Good luck,babe!

-chappell roan

-zendaya

-glen powell

-drew starkey

-lana del rey

-austin butler

-cillian murphy

-jacob elordi

-timothée chalamet

-80s roger taylor

-80s brian may

-others

characters

-borhap!roger taylor

-tyler owens

-borhap!john deacon

-eric(a quiet place: day one)

-neil lewis

-felix catton

-oliver quick

-others

what I’ll write

-smut

-fluff

-angst

-fem x fem

-fem x male

-gn!reader x oc

-headcanons

-fics

-drabbles

-love triangles

what I don’t write

-oc x oc

-homophobia

-threesome (I have nothing against it but I’m just not good at writing smut like this)

-incest

-racism

-rape

-piss kink

-etc



that’s it bye for now!

[starstruckfangirlsposts]

🥵🔥🔥🔥

yes, hi, i would like to put in a request for deaky trying to help you with homework cause im big dumb and he's big smart !! but reader keeps getting distracted by how BEAUTIFUL HIS HANDS ARE and wouldn't it be lovely to FEEL THEM !!!!! (from deakyfordays ! ily !!!)

Ok hell yes I love you @deakyfordays , smut below the cut my guys!

Ok, so it’s Sunday and you called John in tears begging him to help you with your calculus homework which happened to be due the very next day. 

And he’s like “Very typical of you to leave it to the very last minute.” 

And he laughs and you groan in frustration and say “Are you gonna come help me or not.” 

And he’s like “I’m almost out the door.” And hangs up. And you’re like thank fuck for John Deacon.

So, he gets to your little old apartment with an armful of notebooks, pencils, and the ugly calculus book the teacher insisted the class buy. And he’s all smiley, one because he loves math, two because he likes helping people, and three because he loves seeing your pretty face. You’re so overcome with gratitude that you nearly knock him over with a hug the minute he walks through the door. He’s like so surprised but still tries to hug back without dropping all of his stuff because hugs from you are so precious to him and he cherishes them so much.

Keep reading

[warnersister]

John Deacon Masterlist

Valentine’s