#deacy fluff

Missed part 1? Hop on over to my masterlist!

Part Summary: You and Teddy enjoy the concert from backstage, Teddy disco-dancing his heart out just like his father. When the concert is over, the boys find that despite the roaring crowds, they have no bigger fan than your adoring five-year-old.

Pairings: John Deacon x Wife!Reader; dad!deaky

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: None!

A/N: Ok lovies, here’s part two! I can’t believe I restrained myself to stick to my Saturday update schedule, because as we know I’m a sucker for validation, but it’s a good discipline and it’ll give me more time to finish the whole fic. I hope you like it!

Okay, this is downright ADORABLE! I love it! 😍 I had sooooooo much fun doing this ask and I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it! 

You and John have been married for a little over a year and a half, and live together in a one bedroom flat in London. The flat is small and drafty, with cracks in the walls and a leaky faucet in the bathroom that the landlord keeps refusing to fix.

You remember how embarrassed John was when he drove you to the flat after your wedding, apologizing in the car—nearly to the point of tears—saying that this wasn’t the life he wanted for you, but it was all he could afford.

“It’s alright, John.” you had assured him, grabbing his face in your hands. “I will love you regardless of where we live, regardless of how much money we have, regardless of what you’re able to buy me. I love you, John. That’s not going to change.”

He had reached up and taken your hand that rested on his face, bringing it to his lips to kiss it gently, before sighing.

“Shall we go on in, then?” he had asked, nodding towards the building.

“Only if you carry me over the threshold like you’re supposed to.” you had whispered back, and grinned as you watched the blush spread up his cheeks as he shyly smiled.

John had indeed carried you across the threshold of the flat that evening, carried you straight to the drafty bedroom and lay you down on the springy mattress and thin blankets. He had followed you down onto the mattress shortly thereafter, and done things to you that made you forget all about the condition of your new home.

Now, nearly one and a half years later, you and him had fixed up the flat as best as you could with the meager funds Queen received from the sales of their albums. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it housed you and John, and wherever he was, well…that was home to you. The occasions when you got to spend the entire day with John were few due to Queen recording their new album, so when you did get a day when he wasn’t working, you usually just spent it together. Normally you would go out to get lunch and then end up in some bookstore somewhere, walking through the aisles hand in hand and each pointing out things they thought would interest the other.

One of those such days off you were with John in the tiny living room of your flat, having chosen to stay inside for the day because it was raining. You were lying between his legs on the couch, reading a book while he tinkered with some wiring that had come from an outlet in the kitchen. The microwave in your kitchen had been malfunctioning for a couple months and John had been attempting to fix it himself. You shifted slightly between his legs to turn the page of your book, and the sudden movement seemed to draw him out of his thoughts, making him remember you were there. You felt him stretch above you, and sighed, closing your book and checking your watch.

“You want some lunch, love?” you asked, reaching around behind you to run your fingers down his arm.

“Yeah,” John sighed, sounding relieved to put the wiring aside. “God, I’d love some.”

You nodded, and stood up to climb over his leg and off the couch. You padded over to the kitchen, ignoring the useless microwave, and turned on the broiler.

You and your husband both liked cheese on toast, it was simple, easy to make, and best of all cheap. As you set about fetching the bread, cheese, and butter, you noticed John had shuffled after you and was now busying himself with the tea kettle.

“I can make you tea, if you like.” you offered, noticing him filling the kettle.

He waved his hand at you and shook his head.

“You’re making me lunch, so I’m making you tea.” he said simply.

You grabbed him on his way back to the stove and pulled him down for a kiss.

“If I knew I’d get one of those every time I make tea,” whispered John when you released him. “I’d do it more often.”

You whacked his arm playfully but let him go about his business of heating the kettle and sorting through teabags while you cooked up four pieces of cheese on toast, two for you and two for him.

You had just taken the cheese on toast out of the broiler and laid them on a plate when you suddenly felt John’s arms around your waist, his body pressed into your back, and his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey.” you said, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Whatcha doing?”

“Thanking you for the kiss you gave me earlier.” he whispered, breath hot on your ear, and you felt your body relax against the kitchen counter as his lips kissed their way down your neck. He stopped when he reached your collarbone, and you yelped when you felt his teeth scratch your skin lightly.

“Enough, mister.” you said sternly, wriggling out of his grasp to face him with the plate of cheese on toast. You tapped his nose playfully with your finger. “Not until you’ve eaten your lunch.”

John pouted in mock disappointment, but took the plate happily and padded back off to the living room, where he flopped back on the couch and stretched his legs out again.

“Wanna watch TV?” he yelled, and you heard him fumbling around for the remote.

“Sure!” you called back, fixing yourself a cup of tea. “Go ahead and find something good!”

When you joined him in the living room he was watching Casablanca, one of your shared favorite movies, and you lay down gratefully between his legs again. He put the plate of cheesy toast on your stomach, and reached his arms around you to grab a slice.

You lay that way with him for the next two hours, long after the cheese on toast and tea were finished, and the living room was only illuminated by the TV light instead of the sun outside the window. By the end of Casablanca, you had silent tears running down your cheeks. You had always been a sucker for old romance movies.

You sniffled aloud after the credits rolled, and felt John’s arms tighten around you.

“You alright?” he asked, catching you under your chin and turning your face so he could see it.

“Yeah, you know how I get with these silly old movies,” you said, laughing and wiping your face. “I’m a hopeless romantic.”

John chuckled beneath you, and grabbed your waist with his hands, flipping you over to lay on your stomach on top of him, your elbows resting on his waist. You wiped your face again, and John leaned up to turn off the TV and laid back on the couch. You blushed as he wrapped his arms tighter around your back, and studied you with his greenish-grey eyes.

“Something you thinking about, love?” you asked teasingly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair gently.

“Mhm,” John purred, his voice low and husky. He leaned up slowly. “Thinking about continuing what I was doing earlier.”

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader AN: Here is the first of the song requests! I did a fic for this song in my last song fic requests, but I changed it up a little bit for my boy Deacy! I’m still not even sure that this follows anywhere near what the song is going for, but this just came out when I started typing, so hopefully it works! I actually think this is the first time I’ve written anything for John, so I hope you like it 🙂   Song: “Slow Dancing in the Dark” by Joji

It wasn’t that he thought he didn’t deserve you, it was more that he didn’t understand how you could be interested in him when every time you came to one of their shows, there were numerous men trying to take you home. There was even a time when Roger had given it a shot. It was a slight shock to everyone when you turned him down.  

After every show, he would find himself sitting at the bar, waiting to see which lucky gentleman might finally succeed in winning your heart. You would be dancing in the middle of the room, and a man would walk up behind you, place their hands on your waist, and John would feel sick. Then there would be that smile that formed on your lips when you turned, and you would move gently out of their grasp so that you could continue dancing on your own. John almost hated the sense of satisfaction that filled his chest whenever this would happen.

Sometimes girls would come up to talk to him, recognizing him as the bassist of the band that had just been on stage. John would be friendly enough, but his eyes would never leave you, causing most conversations to fizzle out before they could get anywhere. Every once in a while, your eyes would meet his from across the room, and he would smile and finally look away.  

When his eyes moved from yours, he never saw the triumphant smile that crossed your lips. You knew that he was watching, and that’s why you continued dancing. You wanted him to join you, but he never did. You turned all the other guys down because you only wanted one.  

John was your best friend. He knew you, and you knew him, like the back of your hands. The only thing neither one of you could see, however, was the way you felt about one another. John had been there when you had your heart broken a little over a year ago. He could still see that devastation, that brokenness, in your eyes. He swore that day that, if he had anything to do with it, you would never feel that way again.

Since his gaze had been diverted, he didn’t see you approaching him at the bar. It wasn’t until he felt your soft hand on his arm that he finally looked up.

“Can I buy you a drink?” You asked, your voice light. You were smiling softly at him, and he returned the gesture. He held up his half empty beer to show you that he didn’t need one, but you pushed his hand away and laughed.

“I think we’re going to need something a little stronger than that.”  

John’s eyebrows quirked up as you ordered each of you a shot as well as each of you a rum and coke.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” he asked quietly. His heart was racing in his chest at how close you were to him, and when you put your hand on his shoulder, he thought he was going to explode.

“If that will get you on the dancefloor, sure.” You replied, giving him a wink.  

Once the shots were placed in front of you, the two of you quickly downed them. John hissed slightly at the burn, and you watched him with adoring eyes. For a while, you both sat and talked about little things, gently nursing your rum and coke’s. You convinced John to do another shot, and about an hour later, you could tell that John was feeling it.

“How about that dance?” You asked, standing up from your bar stool and holding out your hand. There was a fast song playing, but the beat was moving through you, and you couldn’t resist. There was a moment where John just sat staring at your hand, and you began to worry that he might not take it. Finally, after what felt like several long seconds, John’s hand met yours and you smiled as you pulled him onto the dancefloor.

The way that John danced always made you smile. He was so carefree and so unique in every sort of way. You always wondered why he didn’t do it more often. He was by far your favorite dance partner.

By the third song, the two of you were having a great time. However, halfway through, a tall man approached you and attempted to wrap his arms around your waist. John watched as his hands found your hips, and it took everything in him not to punch him right then and there. Couldn’t he see that you were dancing with him? Of course, that was just the alcohol talking. The tall man was handsome, and John felt himself instantly start to back away.

You noticed John moving away from you, and your eyes fell to the new set of hands that had found their home near your waist. You turned, more than slightly annoyed at the interruption. The man who approached you smiled down at you, but you didn’t smile back.

“I’m sorry, but I was kind of dancing with someone else.” Your voice was hard, and the man frowned. His eyes flickered up to land on John, and he scoffed.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, as he released his hold on you and walked away.

When you turned back around, John was just standing in front of you, staring. The song had transformed into a slow song, and you moved forward to wrap your arms around his neck. You gave him a small smile as you pulled him closer, and a few seconds later, you felt his hands grip your sides.  

John still couldn’t believe it. He had been watching you turn down guys all night, but he hadn’t expected you to choose dancing with him over someone else.  

“What’s wrong?” He heard you ask, snapping him back out of his thoughts.

John lifted his eyes to meet yours, and his stomach flipped.

“You should be with someone more like that. Someone more your type.” He murmured.

“My type? Who says that guy was my type?”

There was a curious expression on your face now, and John could feel his cheeks heat with embarrassment.  

“I mean, tall, dark and handsome... isn’t that every girl’s type?”

You laughed, and even though he knew it was directed at him, it was still one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard.

“That guy was hardly my type. What if I said my type was more... someone like you?”

John swallowed hard, and he felt like his head was spinning. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol, your words, or the way that you were looking at him. It could have been a culmination of all three.

Two shots in and feeling brave, you decided that this was the moment. Slowly, you leaned forward, and when John didn’t move away, you gently brushed your lips against his. You felt him tense in your arms, but a fraction of a second later, he sighed and pressed his lips forcefully against yours.

The taste of alcohol stained both of your lips, but neither one of you cared. Your arms that were still wrapped around his neck pulled him even closer, and his hands were now placed securely on the small of your back, keeping your body flush against his. It was a kiss like neither one of you had ever experienced before. It was an acknowledgement of months of ignored feelings, all crammed into one simple gesture.

When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, attempting to catch your breath.

“This is crazy.” John breathed, a light laugh falling from his lips.

“Bad crazy?” You asked nervously.  

When you looked up, you met John’s green eyes, and he smiled.

“Absolutely not. The perfect kind of crazy.”

He hadn’t believed that it could happen, but then you kissed him again.

A/N: You don’t need a romantic partner to complete you. You’re a whole person, and co-dependency never works out for anyone. Yes, this is me trying to convince myself of this. I’m just really lonely, okay?

In this world reader replaces Paul and he never existed because, well, do I have to explain?

I could’ve called this ‘Somebody to Love’ but that’s just a little too cliché. Think of this as a Shakespeare’s ‘Twelfth Night’ or ‘What you Will’ scenario.

Also a preface I suck at characterisation cause all my life I’ve written first-person stories with no other characters, and that usually reflects me, so please just like know that ?? Idk I’m trying ?? It’s hard with real people. Also obviously Rog is written as a one-dimensional asshole, and I’m totally aware that he is absolutely nothing like that irl.

(The line about ‘heart and soul’ came from a shadowhunters episode)

I’m lowkey embrassed about this idk it sucks I’ve had a bit of a writing slump recently ,,,

MY MASTERLIST

When was it your turn?

You hated to be ungrateful for the incredible people around you; your fun-loving, kind-hearted friends, your supportive family, your wonderful job that provided you the opportunity of a lifetime; to spend your days with the members of the band Queen, assisting them in their day-to-day lives, getting along with them wonderfully.

You hated to place all your hopes of finding happiness in a romantic partner, but you couldn’t help it. Something was missing. There was a gap in your life, waiting to be filled with romance.

As you watched all your friends get married, have children, settle down, you couldn’t help but resent it a little; you despised yourself for these thoughts. Of course you were happy for them, but you couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with you. Why nobody paid you any attention. Why you’d never gone as far as awkwardly making out with a boy with braces when you were 14. Were you really that repulsive?

These were the kind of thoughts that kept you up at night, when you had nothing else to keep you happy or distracted. As you wondered where your Prince Charming was, somebody to sweep you off your feet and make you feel loved, you’d never imagined what you’d been looking for was right in front of you all along.

1975

“Jesus Y/N. What’s in here, bricks?” Roger practically dragged your bag through the dust as he struggled to carry it. You adjusted your handbag on your shoulder, rolling your eyes.

“You don’t have to carry it, Roger! I should be carrying your bags!” You exchanged a knowing glance with John; he grinned, his eyes creasing.

“Yes I do, I’m being a gentleman!” he exclaimed, literally tripping over his own feet, dropping your bag into the dust.

“No you’re not, you’re just trying to get into my pants. Which is super unprofessional, by the way,” you snapped, picking up your bag, dusting it off and marching ahead of him into the house.  

“She’s right, Rog. Y/N would never shag her boss. And if she did, she’d hide it really well,” Freddie pointed out.

“Thanks Fred,” you laughed, turning back to wink at him. John and Brian, quietly carrying their own bags, trailing behind, were amused at the exchange.               

Once everybody had found their rooms and settled in, the band went to the recording studio to work. You, meanwhile, sat in the kitchen, chatting to your closest friend Kathy on the phone. Somehow, you’d got into a conversation about your love lives. Unfortunately, your lack thereof.

“I don’t know, Kath,” you sighed, twirling the phone cord around your finger. “It feels like I’m so behind, you know? I hate to sound like I’m complaining but I haven’t even been on a date in like three months! And the guy was a total creep! When am I going to have something like you and Joe have?”

“Y/N, you’re amazing,” she sighed. “The right guy is just around the corner, and he’s going to love you heart and soul.” Kathy replied, ever the comforter.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because it’s what you deserve!”

You laughed, “Thanks Kath.” The door opening behind you interrupted you, and you quickly said, “I have to go, I’ll call you later. Love you!”

She laughed. “Love you too, Y/N. He’s closer than you think!” She finished. You rolled your eyes, a small smile on your face as you hung up. You turned around in your chair to see who had come in. John stood with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels, a sweet smile on his face.

“Sorry Deaky, do you need anything?” you asked, feeling slightly guilty that you were talking to Kathy when you could be working.

“I’m sorry! Did I interrupt?” he walked past you to the fridge, opening it up and furrowing his eyebrows. “Who were you talking to? Someone special?” Heat rushed to your cheeks, but you couldn’t entirely explain why.

“No, no, just a friend. She’s awesome, we’ve been friends since high school,” you said, standing up to close the fridge, uncomfortable with how long he’d kept it open.

John nodded, smiling slightly at your actions. “Can you help me make some sandwiches and tea? I was sent to ask you to do it.”

“Of course, I was just thinking about getting everyone some lunch! Please, go back, I’ll do it,” you smiled at him, beginning to gather the necessary ingredients.

“I’m happy to help,” he said, a twinkle in his eye, putting the kettle on. You were taken aback at your body’s reactions to being alone with him, which had never really happened before. He tended to sit back and observe in group conversations, so it was interesting to see him in a different setting; he had an intriguing spark to him that you hadn’t really noticed before. You were surprised to find your heart beating faster when he placed his hand on your side to steady himself as he leant past you to grab something, blood rushing to your cheeks when he considerately asked you how you took your tea.

You’d never pictured it, but the two of you worked together seamlessly, as you chatted and joked easily. You playfully teased him, not being able to help yourself. However, unlike some people, he understood your sense of humour, laughing along with you.

The last straw came when you began discussing your personal life. Generally, you were a pretty open book, so you didn’t mind his questions. Little did you know, though, he was gauging the status of your love life for himself. Ever since you were hired by the band, John found himself captivated by your kindness, your sense of humour, your smile. The rest of the band knew of course, but you were oblivious to the signs, being, to your shame and disappointment, an amateur in the romantic department.

Now, after a mere ten minutes, you’d developed proper feelings for one of your employers. Sure, you laughed along when Roger tried to sleep with you, but you assumed he was always joking. And John was different. God, what was wrong with you? Were you really so starved for affection that you crushed on the first man to pay you attention for longer than a minute?

You knew you couldn’t ever do anything about this. Not only was it entirely unprofessional, you were certain he didn’t feel the same way. Besides, it would be way too complicated if things didn’t work out.

So, you pushed down your feelings, avoiding eye contact with John as much as you possibly could, walking in front of him when silently when you carried the trays of lunch to the recording studio.

----------

The next couple of days were torturous, to say the least. You wished you’d never had your sudden revelation, everything seemed so much simpler before. You were even finding yourself missing the sheer agony that came from not knowing if you’d ever meet your perfect man. Because you already had, you just didn’t realise it. And now, you had to spend all your time in his presence, knowing you would never be more than his assistant. Knowing you could never have him in the way you wanted.

That was, until you accidentally overheard a conversation that confused you even more, that brought even more conflict upon you. It was a little too early in the morning for your preference, and you were carrying a tray of coffees to the recording studio, a task that was proving quite the challenge. Just as you were attempting to balance the tray in one hand to open the door, the whole tray slipped out of your hand. Hot coffee splattered your leg, mugs smashed everywhere, and you could do nothing to stop it, except yell, “Fuck!”

That was your breaking point. Feeling entirely defeated, you slid down the wall almost comically, clutching your knees among the broken mugs. Coffee stained your pants, but you found yourself not caring. Hot tears filled your eyes, and you shook your head. You were pathetic. Why were you getting so worked up over a couple of coffee mugs? That’s when you heard the loud voices from inside.

“Did you ask her?” a voice you assumed was Brian’s asked. You froze, heart beating rapidly. You were the only woman around. Were they talking about you?

“Not exactly,” John said softly. The heat rushed to your cheeks, anticipating what he would say next. “I found out that she’s single, and it seems like she’s never been in a serious relationship.”

“You’d better do it soon mate, before I shag her, ditch her, and she quits because she can’t stand to be in the same room as me.” That was Roger. Of course it was.

At the same time you heard Freddie say, “She has way too much respect for herself for that,” John retaliated with, “Fuck off, Rog. She’s not like that.” Before you could even comprehend what just happened, their conversation changed rapidly, and you heard footsteps approaching the door. Shit.

You barely had time to stand up, before John swung open the door. He was, understandably, taken aback at the mess.

“I um,” you bit your lip. “Had a bit of an accident,” you stuttered awkwardly. You scolded yourself internally for the probably obvious blush on your cheeks. What was wrong with you? You really needed to pull yourself together.

As you broke eye contact with John and began to pick up the larger pieces of mugs, you heard a voice chime from inside, “Where are our coffees?”

----------

All eyes were on you as you lined up your cue, eyes narrowed in concentration as you broke.  Balls flew everywhere, bouncing off the sides of the table with satisfying sounds. Perhaps you were letting out your frustrations on the balls.

“Nice break,” John said, leaning against the wall. It was such a casual, neutral comment, you were quite embarrassed at your flustered response.

You smiled softly, muttering “thanks.” It was hard to ignore the knowing eyebrow raises and glances from Freddie, Roger and Brian. You thought back to the conversation you overheard earlier. Did John have feelings for you? And did the rest of the band know about it? You suddenly felt exposed and embarrassed at the thought. Surely it wasn’t true, it was too good to be true; a man you had feelings for actually reciprocating them? Either way, even if he did, you still couldn’t do anything about it considering your employment. But, still, at least you would be a step closer to love.

You tried your best to suppress your confusing feelings and multitude of questions as the night went on; a stream of drinks were consumed by all, laughs were had, and victories were had (mostly by you; what could you say? You’d been playing pool all your life). You found yourself thanking your lucky stars yet again to have such an incredible job where you could hang out with a bunch of truly great, fun, interesting and talented people. Slowly, Freddie, Brian and Roger dwindled away, leaving just yourself and John. By the time you were becoming too tipsy to properly aim, finding yourself confused at which balls were yours, John decided it was time for you to get some rest.

“Y/N you should go to bed, if you keep drinking you’re gonna feel even worse in the morning,” he said, as you sat cross-legged on the floor, cradling your beer. He leaned down with the intention of helping you up, placing his hand on your shoulder. “Big day tomorrow.”

You pushed him off you, scrambling to stand up. “Why are you telling me what to do all of a sudden? Just piss off. You’re not – I mean, we’re, you’re not, you’re –“ you struggled to find the right words in your current state of consciousness. John’s face contorted with – hurt? – as he looked like you’d slapped him.

“I was just trying to help,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he said sincerely. God. You’d insulted him when he was being kind, and he was apologising to you? Could he be any more perfect?

“No I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I just…” you trailed off, furrowing your brows as you studied his face. “I’m confused.”

“About what?” he asked, frowning, stroking your arm encouragingly. You melted into his touch; it sent goosebumps all over your body. Whether it was the alcohol or not you couldn’t tell.

“God, everything!” you rambled, not being to stop the words spilling out of your mouth. “You! I don’t know what to do, I don’t get it. You confuse me. What do I do?” you glanced up at him, the room slightly spinning. “Just take me to bed. You were right. I need to sleep, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

John nodded speechlessly, guiding you back to your room. He helped you take off your shoes, tucked you in and placed a glass of water beside your bed. 

Both of you went to bed with even more questions than answers that night.

----------

“Morning, there’s the party girl!” Freddie chimed, looking up at you.

“Shhhh, not so loud,” you grumbled, eyes barely open as you flopped down onto the couch in the recording studio, rubbing your temples.

“Sorry about last night, that’s so unlike me,” you said, ashamed. You recalled drinking a lot of beer, playing pool, and… oh no. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you remembered rambling to John. Did he know what you were implying? Was your childish little secret out already? It hadn’t even been a day. You never were very good at keeping your mouth shut. Much to your embarrassment, you locked eye contact with him, as he swivelled around in his chair to glance at you. You sat up quickly, entranced by his gaze. His eyes quickly flicked over to Freddie, then to Roger, who was sitting on the couch adjacent to you.

“Come on, Rog, let’s go, erm, help Brian!” Freddie said suddenly, shooting up out of his chair, practically dragging Roger across the room to join Brian on the other side of the glass.

“Fred what are you doing? He doesn’t need help. You could’ve at least been a little less obvious…” his voice trailed off as they shut the door behind them, joining Brian. There was a lull, and you found yourself shifting uncomfortably.

“I-“ you both started to speak at the same time, then stopped just as abruptly. You both laughed, as you chewed on your bottom lip nervously.

“You go” he said.

“Look, John, I’m sorry. Really. About last night. I didn’t know what I was saying. Can we just forget about the whole thing?” your heart was racing.

“Y/N, I can’t forget about it. I can’t stop thinking about it. I need to know what you meant, what you were trying to say. What did you mean when you asked me what you should do?” he came to sit down next to you on the couch, intently watching you. You could feel three pairs of eyes also watching the two of you through the glass, which you tried to ignore. Nosy bastards.

He was being so direct, so deliberate, you couldn’t put it off any longer. “I was talking about, um…” you moved closer to him, your throat becoming dry. He didn’t take his eyes off you for a second. “My feelings for you,” you finally said breathlessly, your heart feeling like it was beating out of your chest. This was it; he was going to reject you like all the others. You braced yourself for the inevitable heartbreak. But it never came.

Instead, John moved so quickly you could barely think, pressing his lips against yours sweetly. You inhaled sharply, shocked, before you came to your senses and kissed him back. Hard. You kissed him like you were drowning and he was oxygen. He pulled you close, his hands on your waist, while you reached up and ran your fingers through his silky hair, something you’d been wanting to do for so long. As he softly ran his tongue along your bottom lip in a way that made you melt, you wanted to pinch yourself. Was this really happening? Were you really kissing the man of your dreams? The butterflies in your stomach and the tingling sensation throughout your entire body was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. When you finally pulled away, it was like he’d kissed away all your fears and doubts. They were gone, and all that was left was an indescribable feeling of safety and passion.

He stroked your cheek, smiling fondly at you, his eyes crinkling. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I met you.” His adorable accent was having a particular effect on you it hadn’t before.

You caught his hand, bringing it to your lips to give the top of his hand a quick kiss, before intertwining your fingers and bringing them down between you. “I’ve been wanting to do it since, well, yesterday afternoon…” you giggled. “Why didn’t I realise how incredible you are sooner?”

He shrugged, absentmindedly toying with the collar of your shirt. “I don’t know, but I know I’m not incredible. Just an average guy who really likes an amazing girl. And not just because she brings me food and looks after me,” he chuckled.

“You’re far from average, John Deacon.”

Just in the middle of the most romantic moment of your life thus far, the door swung open, and a chorus of yelling ensued.

“Finally, my darlings! We were so close to locking you in a room until you agreed to get together!”

“It’s about fucking time, you’re perfect for each other!”

“The two of you are sickeningly cute. I hate it.”

You blushed furiously, embarrassed that you’d forgotten they could see your every move. You were speechless, while John only managed, “Were you watching that whole time?”

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It was never easy. Queen’s growing success meant more eyes were on them more than ever before, meaning people were more and more curious about their personal lives. You partially understood, but when you read yet another insensitive, invasive headline questioning Freddie’s personal life, you couldn’t see why people wouldn’t just leave them alone. It began to take a toll on all of them, and even you. Multiple tabloids appeared, including photos of you and John walking along, looking miserable about the paparazzi following you. This was twisted of course, and the headlines read things like, ‘Controversial romance between Queen Bassist and assistant on the rocks.’

You despised the media for portraying him as using his position of power, and he despised them for portraying you as a gold digger. But you could always make each other feel better. No matter what, your love for each other prevailed. Every day you counted your blessings for being able to spend your life with your first love, being able to call him your husband and have his children. You never thought you’d be one of the lucky few who stayed with your first love.

god same 😭💘 hearing him sigh contentedly as you play with his hair, looking up lovingly at you as you lace your fingers in between his locks, pressing soft, passionate kisses to his lips as you comb through it with your fingers and scratch his scalp and he’s just humming with bliss, fluttering his eyelashes against the soft skin of your face and running his thumb over your cheekbone and i need to stop before i start crying