#70s!roger taylor x reader

[deakyislife51]

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

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[bijouxcarys]

I'm just asking for it now, but I am now... taking fic requests. I'll write Robert, Brian, and maybe others, but it really depends what the request is.

Woop.

[chilling-seavey]

Belladonic Haze

↳ A/N I couldn't help myself. I needed to write a Roger fic. There will be more, I'm sure. 70s Rog just begs to have stories written about him, have you seen the guy?? All I was watching when writing was this performance x

↳ Summary: Spending your Friday night at a college bar alone, you expected no more company than that of the music. But when the drummer of the band catches your eye under the stage lights, your mundane night turns into one you'll remember for decades.

↳ Pairings: 70s!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 8.9k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, one night stand, smoking, drinking, public sex, oral sex (m receiving), minor spanking (with drumsticks), fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex (but he pulls out so like-).

London, 1971

The bar was hazy with cigarette smoke, fracturing the light from the cheap spotlights cast onto the cramped stage. The crowd was dense that night—strangers pressed shoulder to shoulder across the sticky wood floor, pushing and shoving in time with the music thudding through the crackling speakers. It almost felt like if the band got any louder, the sound system might burst.

You were front row, slightly to the right, getting an eyeful of the guitarist’s impressive solo as he took to the edge of the stage for his moment in the spotlight. This band had been pricking the ears of many students in and around Imperial College, rumblings that they had just signed a record deal whispered in the dormitory rooms over shared joints and stardust. They called themselves ‘Queen’—a bit of an improvement from their previous alias, ‘Smile’, you thought—and although they were still trying to find their sound, it was clear to anyone that they had potential. 

You didn’t believe the rumours until you heard it for yourself, however, so you turned up that Friday night to one of the college bars where they were playing. Halfway through the show and you were pretty sold.

From their music, of course. The golden angel of a drummer was certainly just a bonus. 

As much as you had found yourself a little captivated by him, he seemed to share in the feeling, his gaze constantly drifting to you throughout the show. At first you chalked it down to coincidence; how much could they see of the crowd with the stage lights in their eyes anyway? But after he performed such an impressive minute-long drum solo without a single error and then immediately winked in your direction, your suspicions of the blinding lights wavered. 

You couldn’t recall seeing him around campus; you definitely would have remembered him. With blonde hair that was chopped shaggy around his shoulders, messy with sweat and exertion from the show, he looked like he already was perfecting that star-studded rock-and-roll persona from the get go. But his features were so soft, as if he had been carved by God’s most gentle angel with a precise and steady hand. It was as if he tried too hard to look hard rock but he was far too pretty to be genuinely convincing. 

They played a forty minute gig in the crowded college bar. It was a show that outright felt like perfection and you were almost reluctant to admit that it might have been one of the best shows you had been to, to date. London felt far too small for them. 

You watched with a warmth in your chest as the four band members lined up in the middle of the stage and took a bow to the cheering crowd. Someone towards the back whistled. The band looked ethereal like that, standing under the hazy stage lights, infinite. 

And the drummer, taking the end of the lineup closest to you, was bathed in sweat that glistened like gold, dripping down his temple and getting caught in his sideburns and the ends of his frazzled blonde hair. You had never felt the urge to lick someone’s sweat off their brow as much as you did in that moment. God help you.

You were only pulled from your unruly thoughts when he looked at you, dead in the eyes, and for a moment you wondered if he could read your thoughts. He had such entrancing eyes, framed with long lashes as if he had put on mascara, his irises pale in the blinding stage light. You couldn’t look away, hardly even noticing how the guitarist and bassist threw some picks into the crowd as the drummer stepped over to the edge of the stage right in front of you, all without breaking your eye contact. 

And then he was holding out his drumsticks to you; an olive branch, an invitation. His chest heaved with his exertion, and when you accepted his gift, his face broke into a handsome grin, a sly little smirk, and something shone in his eyes. The wood was still warm from where he had been holding them, slightly damp from sweat, splinted at the ends, the pair almost buzzing in your hands from the energy of the show. 

No sooner did you receive your generous gift did the stage lights switch off and he disappeared into the darkness. 

You stood there for a beat, the drumsticks still humming in your hands, unsure if you’d imagined it all—that look, that smirk, the slow-burning, unspoken invitation of it all.

But then, not long after, there he was again. At the bar.

Still glistening with sweat and running a hand through his damp, tangled hair, he leaned on the counter like he hadn’t just given the performance of a lifetime. His black tanktop stuck slightly to his back, toned arms shown off beneath the cut-off sleeves, and when he laughed at something the bartender said, the sound reached you through the crowd as clear as day.

With his drumsticks tucked in the back pocket of your jeans, you approached him. He glanced briefly at you as you leaned forward atop the bar at his immediate left and then almost did a double take as if it took him a second glance to register who you were. You didn’t look at him at first, directing your attention to the bartender instead as you placed your drink order with an addition of:

“...and whatever the man of the hour is having.”

And then you looked at him; the blonde haired drummer who was already staring back at you like you were a drop of heaven. When your eyes met, his surprised expression melted into a friendly grin—slightly bashful around the edges where his confidence gave way to something more humble. He turned towards you a little more, one arm still resting atop the bar, his eyes carding down your figure like he was trying to figure you out with just a look. 

“I’ve reached that level of fame now, have I?” he spoke playfully, his voice handsomely raspy and low, warm like firelight, “Where beautiful strangers buy me drinks in bars?”

“Seems so,” you responded easily, “Keep putting on such incredible performances and maybe next it’ll be a car.”

“Do I get to know your name so I can hold you to that?” 

You introduced yourself to him simply and he repeated your name as if testing the way it felt on his tongue. 

He offered out his hand in return, “Roger.”

“Just Roger?” you played, setting your hand in his for a proper handshake. His palm was still clammy from his time on stage.

“Roger Taylor,” he humoured you with a smile.

“A good name for a rockstar.”

“You reckon?”

“Absolutely.”

The bartender set your drinks down in front of you and you rifled through your purse to find a few coins to pay for them. Your coins were passed into the bartender’s outstretched palm and you dropped your change into the glass labeled TIPS by the register. 

Roger lifted his drink from the bartop and said casually, “It feels wrong allowing a woman to pay for me.”

You quirked a brow in his direction, lifting your own glass, “You don’t support feminism, Mister Taylor?”

He smiled at being called out for his misspeak, meeting your gaze over his glass with a cool, “Of course, I do. Suppose I just mean that next time I should make sure I return the favour.”

“Next time?” you echoed, voice filled with interest.

But both of you just sipped your drinks, all without breaking eye contact. The unspoken tension lingered around the two of you like an invisible string, luring you closer with the kind of intrigue that threatened those of the sort to write top-of-the-charts hits. It had been simmering like a soft and steady trill of a drumroll since the start of the show when he had first taken the stage, when he had first spotted you in the crowd.

Despite the way you both had been staring at each other for most of the night, there was still a game to play, a move to make. You knew you had to test the waters. So, you set your drink on the bar before leaning against it, fingers trailing around the rim of your glass as you said to him, “I haven’t seen you around campus. I definitely would have remembered you.”

He cocked his head, “You would have?” 

“Oh, definitely,” you lifted your drink to take a sip, feigning an endearing sort of blasé, “I don’t forget such a handsome face easily.”

Roger ducked his head slightly, like he was trying not to grin, his eyes flicking down to his glass. A quiet laugh escaped him—low, soft, amused. Your compliment settled in the air around you and although he didn’t seem quite surprised by your words, he still clearly accepted them genuinely. 

“Well,” he said, finally looking back up at you, just a flicker of dry wit nestled under all that bashful charm, “I’m not always this sweaty. Maybe that’s why you missed me.”

You licked away your smile, loving the push back, how he met your banter with such ease. You eyed him up yourself as if judging his statement for yourself before replying calmly, “It’s a good look for you.”

He accepted your comment with an ease of grace and answered your initial remark, “We play at Imperial because our guitarist goes here. I go to East London Polytechnic. But I used to go to London Hospital Medical College if that makes me sound cooler.”

A medical student and a skilled drummer? You were growing more fascinated by this guy by the second. 

“What did you study?”

Roger hesitated for a moment, as if he knew whatever cool factor he had going for him was about to be shot down. Then he chuckled dryly at his own expense and said, “Dentistry.”

Your mistake was having gone for a sip of your drink just then. You were so caught off guard you ended up snorting into your glass, nearly sending the cocktail up your nose.

Roger’s laughter came quickly, soft and melodic as he reached for a napkin to offer you. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he watched you recover.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“I just did not expect the man I saw ravishing that drum kit on that stage settling down to warn people about the risks of gum disease.” you confessed playfully. 

Your teasing banter didn’t seem to sway him as he laughed along with you and bit back with an easy reply of his own, “Yeah, exactly, dentistry was fucking boring, that’s why I switched to biology.” 

“The fantasy of sticking your fingers in people’s mouths didn’t appeal to you?” you played.

Roger’s tongue swiped along his bottom lip almost painfully slowly and his eyes shut for a moment, long lashes kissing his cheeks, as he shook his head with a low chuckle. When he gazed back at you again, his reply was smooth, “Much rather’d do so off the clock, y’know? On my own terms.”

Your chest burned from more than just the alcohol, “Of course.”

“So, what’s your major then? Must be much more interesting than mine.”

You shared your major with him and he asked all the right questions to keep you talking. All the while, he stared at you like you were the headliner, his light eyed gaze taking in every movement of your lips and words they formed. You weren’t quite sure if you could remember anyone listening to you that intently before. Maybe he was just looking for a shag, or maybe he really did care. Either way, it was a win for you, frankly. 

The college bar was so noisy and crowded that you were almost chest to chest with him so you could hear each other over the chatter. Amongst the haze of smoke around you, you could smell him; the obvious but not repulsive scent of sweat from his performance, masked in deodorant and some cheap cologne. It was all so personal. For a moment—blame it on the alcohol—you wanted to dip your nose into the apex of his neck and inhale him. The bar-goers surrounding you were far too drunk and chatty to have paid any mind if you had. 

When both of your drinks were emptied and your conversation had momentarily ebbed, you noticed the way Roger’s hand almost habitually reached for his back pocket. He revealed a pack of Marlboro cigarettes and pulled one out to place between his lips.

“Fancy stepping outside for a bit?” he offered over the noise. 

The venue was so small and unsuited for a proper show that its idea of backstage was simply a hallway that led to the bathrooms and the delivery exit. Roger’s hand somehow found its way into yours as he guided you past the bathroom lineup towards the back door, unlit cigarette still between his lips and his drumsticks still tucked in your back pocket. You followed him gladly until the pair of you broke out into the cool summer night. The door shut loudly behind you, instantly muting the sounds of the noisy bar left behind inside. 

Behind the bar, the back alley was illuminated by only the single flood light above the door and the tail end of street lights leaking in from the main road. The alley seemed empty apart from the dumpster a few paces away and what you assumed was the band’s van parked across the narrow space. The sounds of the city filtered through the buildings that surrounded you and your ears still rang from the noise of the music and the liveliness of the bar. 

It was a calm night, comfortably warm with a breeze that took the edge off, and you found yourself stepping closer to Roger as if to share in your body heat. He stopped a few paces away from the back door and turned back to you, shadows dancing across his face in the moonlight. You already had your lighter at the ready.

He smiled through the cigarette between his lips and leaned a little closer as you flicked on the lighter and lifted the flame to the end of it. Roger cupped his hand around the flame to shield it from the breeze. Once the cigarette caught, he drew back, inhaled deeply, and plucked it from his mouth with a satisfied exhale. Smoke tumbled from his lips, wispy against the indigo night. 

When you held out your hand—tapping your thumb and index finger together as if to say give here—he smiled warmly at you and passed it over without hesitation. You brought it to your lips and took a drag, letting the strength of the nicotine warm you from the inside out. Roger stared. 

You exhaled and offered the cigarette back to him and he accepted it, unfazed by the slight stain of your lipstick that was left behind on the end of it. You watched as he placed it between his lips and slouched back against the brick wall as he took another lengthy drag. He looked straight out of a Marlboro advertisement like that; still dressed in his stage clothes and appearing so effortlessly cool. He could have convinced asthmatics to smoke, looking like that.

You stepped a little closer again, less for warmth now and more because why not? Roger didn’t move. Instead, he just watched you with a calm curiosity, smoke curling past his lips, eyes tracing the shape of you in the moonlight. 

When you held out your hand for your turn with the shared cigarette, he passed it over with a casual, “Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

“I’m not,” you replied before pausing long enough to take a slow, deliberate drag. When you plucked it from between your lips, you spoke through the tumble of smoke, “Only on special occasions.”

“This is a special occasion?” Roger inquired, taking the cigarette back from you. When he lifted it to his lips, he didn’t take his eyes off of you. 

“Of course. It’s not every day I get the opportunity to smoke with the drummer of the headlining band.” you boasted cheekily. 

Roger scoffed through a smile, coughing once on a quiet laugh. “Oh, well—aren’t you a lucky one.”

You smiled at that, letting the words hang between you like the haze of smoke curling in the space you shared, “I think I am.”

Roger flicked the ash from the end of the cigarette, eyes still on you as if he were studying you, trying to figure you out, “You always this bold?”

You shrugged, tilting your head, “Only on special occasions.”

That earned a grin from him—wide and knowing…dazzling—but he didn’t laugh this time. His gaze held yours for a long moment, something slow and serious settling beneath the flirtation. You could feel your heart beating faster now. There was something about the way he was looking at you, like he was weighing something, deciding.

And then he held his free hand out and he linked his finger in the belt loop of your jeans, tugging you closer to him until you were standing chest to chest. You had him sandwiched against the brick wall like that, body against body, standing between his feet that were clad in pink sparkly Converse. Very rock-and-roll. 

You could smell the sharpness of the smoke on his skin in such close proximity and that shamefully addicting scent of his sweat and the fading remnants of his cologne. For a beat, you weren’t quite sure where to put your hands, almost as if you wondered if touching him would break the fantasy. But, when his finger gave another inviting tug to your belt loop, you settled your palms against his chest, bodies pressed together. 

Your voice was quiet, teasing, barely a whisper, “You don’t go around kissing your fans after gigs, do you?”

Roger’s reply was easy, “Only on special occasions.”

Before you could even so much as properly process his cheeky retort, his lips were on yours. 

The simple action shot shivers down your spine and, instinctively, your fingers tightened on the material of his shirt. Roger kept his finger linked in your belt loop, holding your body flush against his, urging you a half step close as if neither of you could stomach even an ounce of distance between you any longer. The kiss was a little clumsy at first as you tried to find your footing with each other, tipsy strangers, slightly off-centered and yet still intensely dizzying.

His cigarette stayed burning away between his fingers of his other hand, the smoke swirling around the both of you in the dimly lit alley as you melted into the moment. You lifted a hand up to grasp the side of his neck, thumb stroking along his jawline, luring him closer still until he was almost leaning into you. Roger’s hand let go of your belt loop to, instead, splay across your back and keep your body pressed right up against him, his lips moving with yours in slow, hungry kisses that almost made your knees give right out from under you. 

You gave into him almost too easily; letting him part your lips with his own so his tongue could tease against yours. That unmissable warmth coiled tight in your belly from only the change in pace, the tilt of his head, the way his tangled hair felt between your fingers as you held his mouth on yours. Shamelessly, you couldn’t help the small moan that slipped from your throat, letting him taste the pleasure on your lips like a new melody, something only he could lure out of you. 

You burned for him faster than the cigarette in his hand, aching for him in any way you could get him. The fact that you had only laid eyes on each other for the first time not even two hours prior felt obsolete, as if you were meant to find each other, meant to be sharing this moment in the darkened alleyway behind the college bar, meant to be tasting the way his tongue felt against yours. 

Meant to be sinking to your knees to the cold, hard concrete ground in front of him.

Roger’s breath shuddered in his chest at your simple action and he rested back against the brick wall of the bar, silently entrusting you completely. You could feel his eyes on you as you popped the button on his tight blue jeans and the zipper gave way almost too easily from the pressure hidden beneath the denim. When you glanced up at him again, he was lifting the cigarette to his lips for another deliberate drag, expression shadowed in the limited light. He didn’t stop you. 

The concrete ached your knees but you focused your attention on him instead, on the way his fly fell open all too easily, on the way the waistband of his underwear felt faintly damp with sweat from the performance, on the way he habitually pushed his hips out towards your touch when you grazed your fingers over the tented fabric. It was too dark to get a proper look at him when you pulled his cock out but you didn’t want to waste time anyway. 

Instead, you tucked your hair behind your ear and leaned in to drag your tongue right up the underside before wrapping your lips around the swollen head in a greedy suckle. Roger let out a small shaky breath at the introduction of your warm, wet mouth. His eyes stayed locked on yours as you peered up at him and slowly took him deeper, finding a lazy pace as you hollowed your cheeks. 

“Fuck…” he groaned.

The cigarette was hurriedly placed between his lips so he could have both hands free to reach down and help pull your hair back and out of your face. You moaned around him as he started to guide you gently with his hands in your hair and you reached up to wrap your fingers around the base of his cock to keep him steady. Sinking deeper around him, you could feel yourself salivating as if this alone was not enough to satisfy your hunger for him.

Roger groaned lowly from above you, cigarette dangling between his lips and hair partially falling in his eyes as he watched you on your knees for him. From that angle, you knew he could still see his drumsticks poking out of the back pocket of your jeans—a quiet reminder of everything that had passed between you tonight, the spark that started the moment the lights dimmed onstage, from that first drumbeat. In that moment, you would have given him anything he wanted. 

You wanted to be good for him, to give him a night as unforgettable as yours already was, and so you pushed yourself deeper until you gagged lightly around him, forcing a tight inhale from the man above you. Roger’s hands tightened in your hair, guiding you, keeping your pace, although there was an obvious hesitation in his movements as if he didn’t want to push you too far. You just took over anyway, pushing deeper until tears stung your eyes and you were forced to pull back for air. 

When you sat back with a choked gasp, spit dipping down your chin, Roger spoke in a quivering whisper, words muffled through his cigarette, “Jesus Christ, you’re unbelievable…”

All you could do was smile and move back in, swirling your tongue around the swollen tip as your hand stroked his foreskin back some more, giving you direct access to the most sensitive parts of him. Luring such obscene reactions from him made your heart race, desperate to hear more of them, no matter what it would take. So your other hand joined in, tugging down the front of his jeans a little more so you could gently grasp his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze while your mouth tended to his cock. 

Except the sudden sound of the back door slamming open startled you back. In a split second, you were on your feet and Roger was turning away to button up his pants, both of you scrambling to look like nothing had happened.

A small group of drunk patrons stumbled out into the alley, not even noticing you and Roger a few meters down in the shadows. They were engaged in their own drunken ramblings and laughter as they made their way in the other direction towards the main street and you watched them as you caught your breath. Just then, Roger’s arm went around your shoulders, drawing you nearer, hiding his smirk against your cheek. 

“Well, that was bloody close.”

You chuckled breathily, a hand falling against his chest, “You can say that again.”

Roger lifted his boot, snuffing the cigarette against the heel before flicking it toward the dumpster without a second glance. Then, his arm around you tightened, drawing you in, and he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth—soft, almost teasing—then another, closer. When you finally turned into him, he caught your lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, like he was still tasting the moment you’d been pulled from.

It lingered, lazy and warm, until he pulled back with a low groan.

You followed after him, giggling quietly into his chest, fingers tangling in the back of his hair, “What?”

Roger didn’t answer right away. His mouth brushed yours again in a barely there kiss before his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, smug and unhurried, murmuring, “Think it’s time I got you somewhere less public.”

The van across the alley was unlocked and he slid open the door to usher you inside first. Every horror movie ever would have insisted against getting into the back of a stranger’s van after dark but there was an unspoken trust you held towards Roger. So you climbed in.

The floodlight from above the back door of the bar filtered through the van’s curtain-trimmed windows just enough to offer some illumination into the cramped space. It was what you would expect from a van belonging to a band of young twenty-somethings; messy but somewhat decorated inside, a place to cart instruments doubling as a place to hang out. 

The spacious back lounge area was lined with worn auburn carpeting that matched the upholstery of the two front seats, unifying the interior in a soft warmth, tainted with the scent of stale booze and cigarettes. The dashboard held a state-of-the-art radio and sound system and atop it sat a scattered collection of maps, pens, notebooks, and empty cigarette packs. It was clearly a well-loved van that did the most to get them around London for various weekend gigs between classes and mundane life. 

It felt like an escape in a way; a shut out corner of the world where they could have started to really feel like they made it. A tour bus, of sorts. Something theirs. Hopefully, an indication of what was to come. 

You were halfway into the van, crawling on hands and knees across the carpeted floor, when Roger reached forward and pulled the drumsticks out of your back pocket. Before you could turn around, the pair was hit playfully across your ass with a sharp smack, his grin unmistakable even in the dim light—all mischief, no apology. A silent nudge to get moving.

“Cheeky,” you tutted with a giggle as you settled into the back of the van atop the mismatched blankets and cushions that were strewn atop the carpeted floor. 

Roger only smiled and set the drumsticks between his teeth as he followed you inside, giving himself his hands free to crawl in and shut the door behind the pair of you. Perhaps if the circumstances were different you might have made some polite conversation—complimented how cool the van was, made some passing joke about putting too much trust in strangers—but there was no time for that now. 

Instead, you were far too distracted by the way he was crawling over to you, situating himself above you as you rested back against the cushions and the opposite wall of the van. He still had those fucking drumsticks between his teeth, his eyes blown wide and almost sparkling even in the subdued light around you, a look like a man on the prowl. It was strange how much the sight of the drumsticks between his teeth turned you on, a taunting reminder of where your night had started and where it ended up now; quite the scandalous turn of events. 

You reached up to wrap your hand around one end of the drumsticks and gave them a gentle tug to lure him closer, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you watched the way he followed your silent demands. With one hand on either side of your body, positioned over top of your outstretched legs, Roger opened his mouth and let you take the drumsticks out; the playful moment fading away into something much more serious.

Then, as if by instinct, once the drumsticks were tossed aside, your hand found the back of his neck as he leaned in towards you and you drew him in, capturing each other’s lips in a wet, smiling kiss. 

An undeniable heat poured through your veins and you kissed him like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. Your fingers tangled in the back of his hair, right at the nape of his neck, a fistful of messy blonde, as if you needed something to ground yourself to reality, to remind you that he was there. Right there, over top of you.

Roger tilted his head to the side a little more to deepen your kiss and he parted your lips with his own to slip his tongue into your mouth just the smallest amount. Your fingers tugged at his hair at that action—almost as if to pull his mouth harder on yours—and you moaned into his kiss, letting him swallow up your sounds with hungry lips and tongue. The taste of cigarettes lingered in his mouth, bitter and smokey, and for a moment you just wanted to inhale him completely, breathe him right into your bloodstream like nicotine. 

In the quiet of the van, there was no sound but that of your sloppy kisses and mirrored breaths—wet, hungry, fueled with passion. Your fingers scratched through the roots of his shaggy hair and you could have sworn he almost purred in reply, absolutely withering at the sensation, lips slack against yours for just a moment. 

You took that moment to speak to him, whispering into his mouth, “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Roger groaned right back, “Fuck, say that again.”

“You are so fucking sexy,” you repeated—dreamily, deliberate—letting every word sink in as you mouthed at his jawline in lazy kisses and then nipped at his earlobe, “And hot. And gorgeous.”

He chuckled lazily, and when he replied, his lips grazed the shell of your ear, his voice a low rumble that stirred something deep inside you, “Say it again while I’m inside you.”

The bluntness of his words almost had you choking on air, but before you could even respond, he turned his face toward yours and pressed his lips back onto yours for more steamy kisses. You moaned genuinely against his mouth, both hands framing his face, pouring all your concentration into every second of that moment. He still hadn’t touched you, with his hands still holding himself up on the mess of blankets on either side of your body, letting his lips do all the work. 

But it wasn’t long before he was shifting over top of you and nudging up the bottom of your shirt and popping the button on your jeans, all without breaking away from your heated kiss. You let him do as he pleased while you slung your arms around his shoulders and drew him closer, pushing your tongue against his between sloppy kisses and panted breaths. He held himself up on one hand while his other helped itself down the front of your jeans. Your legs parted a little wider to permit him to touch you, spreading the best they could with the way his knees were anchored on either side of your outstretched legs.

Your kiss only broke when his fingers first grazed over your clothed clit and the pressure had your head falling back silently against the blankets and pillows, lips parted in a shaky exhale. Roger stared down at you in the back of the darkened van, your face shadowed out of the light from the alley, the two of you breathing together as one as he touched you greedily. The friction of his callused fingers through your underwear was dizzying and you instinctively offered him a tiny nod in encouragement. 

“Yeah?” he echoed, voice rich and warm, almost filthily condescending if you thought about it too hard, “That’s it, yeah?”

“Yeah…fuck,” you withered, fingers grasping onto the back of his tanktop as you writhed against the mess of blankets and cushions. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip in a feeble attempt to keep yourself composed. 

Roger pulled his hand back just long enough to lick his fingers before he was slipping them back down your pants and, this time, down your underwear too. You flinched as his fingertips made direct contact with your clit, finding it with the undeniable ease of a man who truly did study biology. You silently praised the fact that, okay, it seemed he was good at absolutely everything. 

“Blimey, you’re soaked,” Roger muttered in near awe from above you, “You been like this all night?”

“Uh huh…” you replied easily, “Since I saw you on that stage…”

“Yeah?”

Roger slid his hand lower, the angle slightly awkward since you were still completely dressed, but you were both far too into it to care. Besides, the moment his slender fingers dragged through the sopping mess of your cunt and made it throb from just a graze, logistics didn’t matter. He slid two fingers inside you with ease just as you pulled him down for another heated kiss. 

The feeling of your muscles so tight around only two fingers had him groaning into your mouth between distracted kisses, starting to curl them inside you. Your breath caught for a moment, the heel of his palm pressed right up against your clit while his fingers stroked purposefully, wrist stuffed down the front of your jeans and keeping him close. It felt as though every single nerve ending in your body was standing at attention, sizzling from every touch. God bless the hands of a musician. 

After just a moment, Roger pulled back just enough to glance down, breath hot and ragged, muttering, almost to himself, “Fuckin’ hell…” 

Your hips instinctively nudged up against his hand as he slowed, a breathless huff slipping from your chest as he removed his hand from your pants. 

“Get these off, yeah?” Roger’s fingers hooked at the waistband of your jeans without wasting a second, already tugging them down, “Gotta taste you.”

He leaned down to nudge up the hem of your shirt and mouth kisses over your stomach but he didn’t get much farther than that. You grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling him up just enough to look him in the eye in the shadowed back of the van. He peered up at you with wide eyes, almost like a deer in headlights, surprised by the fact you were stopping him.

Your voice was rough and earnestly desperate as you told him, “Don’t want your mouth…just want you to fuck me already.”

That pulled a dark, breathless laugh out of him. His surprised expression melted into a grinning smirk and he pushed himself up, away from your body to finish tugging your jeans off your ankles without argument. 

“Coulda told me sooner, love. Wouldn’t have kept you waiting. I’d have had you up against a wall in the dressing room.”

Your head tipped back against the blankets, moaning softly at the image, but you found your voice again just long enough to murmur, “Been thinking about it since the first minute I saw you on stage tonight.”

Roger barely batted an eye at your statement, too focused on pulling off your shirt and then reaching for the button of his bursting jeans. You helped him to strip, both of you scrambling to rid your clothes in a hurry until they were strewn across the back of the van and forgotten about, leaving him in only his tank top and you in only your bra. In all your readjustments and undressing, you ended up knelt in front of each other, lips locked in another searing kiss, hands wandering and exploring bare skin. 

And then you were setting a hand against his chest and guiding him backwards until he was slouched back against the locked door of the van, draped out over the blankets and propped up on a stray cushion. It wasn’t graceful but it was intensely hot and you could feel your insides burning with lust as he pulled you after him with a hand at the back of your neck to just keep kissing, while you tossed a leg over his lap. 

“Gonna give you what you want then,” Roger mumbled against your mouth, “Gonna fuck you proper.”

You sat up straight on his lap and reached down between you to get yourself situated, his eyes watching your every move as you did so. His breath hitched as your hand wrapped around him, guiding him to your entrance with the kind of aching anticipation that had both of you trembling. And when you started to sink down on him, slow and sure, the both of you shared dreamy exhales and tepid moans, plenty satisfied after the nearly unbearable build up.

Your hands fell flat against his chest as you eased down on his cock in lazy rocks of your hips, slicking him up in your plentiful wetness, gliding all too easily. Roger’s hands stroked your thighs as he watched the way you moved on him with his bottom lip between his teeth, his dick disappeared entirely inside of you, swallowed up by your tight, warm body. The look on his face was that of awe, pure ecstasy. 

“Yeah…” was all you could breathe in near relief as you bottomed out. With your ass pressed to his thighs, you were subject to every last inch of him and you took a moment to familiarize yourself with the feeling, the way he stretched you out just the right amount to push that dreamy warmth across your abdomen. 

“Come on,” Roger said lowly, almost impatiently, hands gliding up your thighs to give your hips a squeeze. You didn’t need much more encouragement than that and without another word, you started to bounce yourself on his lap in short strokes that were just enough to pull a moan from his chest, “That’s it.”

The whole van creaked with every bounce, the old shocks almost groaning beneath you, but it only made the whole thing feel filthier—like you were doing something you weren’t supposed to in some dim-lit corner of the world, hidden away with nothing but the sound of skin on skin and Roger’s low moans filling the space. You could hardly see each other with how dark it was, just able to make out the faint shadowed outline of each other’s features in the faded light leaking in from the alleyway. Out of everything, how much you could see was not at the top of your priority list. Besides, your eyes were screwing shut in seconds anyway.

“Fuck,” you withered breathlessly as you worked to keep your ungraceful pace with your hands anchored on his chest. 

You could feel Roger staring at you, even with your eyes shut tightly and your head tipped back in pleasure. Rather, he was not quite staring as much as gawking. His hands on your hips helped to move you, helping to keep your pace of messy bounces that pushed pleasure through your veins like heroin. The carpeted floor of the van felt rough against your knees but it was a far cry from the pavement you had been kneeling on moments earlier. Anything was worth it for this…even if you would certainly have rug burn in the morning. 

Roger’s hands let go of your hips to cup over your bra, giving your breasts a two-handed squeeze that pulled a gasp from your chest. His thumbs stroked firmly over your nipples through the thin fabric, eyes all over you even in the shadows, “Fuckin’ perfect…look at you.”

His touch, his voice, his body…everything just spurred you on, making that fiery craving deep within you burn hotter, more unbearable. You bounced harder on his lap with a needy whine, fingers fisting the front of his tank top, dizzy on the alcohol in your veins and the lewd clap of skin on skin. Roger grunted lowly as you rode him harder and his hands tightened on your chest—squeezing, pulling.

“God, you feel better than I thought,” you confessed in a panted breath, voice a little pitchy with pleasure. 

Roger’s head tipped back against the door with a breathless laugh, like your words had done something to him, like he could barely believe it, “Yeah?”

He shifted just the slightest bit on the mound of blankets and cushions beneath him, tilting his hips just a little more as he thrusted up to meet your bounce.

“Been thinkin’ about this since the second I saw you, babe—knew you’d take me so fuckin’ good.”

You cried out prettily through his praise as his body nudged up against yours, working with you to chase that pleasure. It was so overwhelming and, yet, almost didn’t quite feel like enough yet. The world felt like something outside of yourself, like reality had fallen away into some dreamlike state, and you wanted to chase every second of it before it fell through your fingers. 

With a finger looping through the silver chain Roger wore, you tugged him up towards you to crash your lips against his in a filthy, tongue-led kiss. His arms went around your body entirely, holding you on his lap as your bounces turned into needy, hurried grinds of your hips on his. The two of you shared hungry moans into each other’s mouths, bodies rutting together like animals, hot and sticky and panting for more. 

Before you could so much as utter another moan, he was shifting out from underneath you and flipping you over, switching positions so you, instead, were draped back over the pile of blankets and cushions. Propped up just enough against the door of the van, you giggled in surprise at the sudden change, how easily he took control, taking what he wanted, and you peered up at him like he was a god. 

Roger reached forward to set a hand on the window edge of the door, his other hand pushing your thigh back to give him room to push deeply into you again. His firm thrust had your head dropping back with a pretty moan, fingers twisting in the blanket you were draped on top of, heavy-lidded eyes blinking up at him. It didn’t take long for him to pick up where you left off, returning to that same needy pace you had set on his lap, now giving it to you in deep, firm thrusts that stole the breath from your lungs. 

“Mmm…my God…” you all but sobbed, a hand flying out to fist the front of his shirt again. 

Roger leaned over you, his breath hot against your cheek as he grunted, “Yeah, that’s it, baby...take me all the way. Fuckin’ hell.”

You tugged at his tank top, panting out a needy, “Harder…faster…please.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. His thrusts quickened instantly, driving deep and fierce until your breath was stolen and you were left gaping dumbly up at him. The van rocked beneath the force of his movements, creaking shamelessly—both of you utterly oblivious and uncaring how obvious you must’ve looked to anyone outside. Inside, the cramped quarters of the band van smelt like sweat and cigarettes and the unmissable stench of sex, the walls and worn carpet bearing witness to every gasp and moan from the both of you, a melody of ecstacy.

Your hands scrambled across his shoulders, feeling the way his muscles flexed beneath your fingertips as he fucked you into the floor of the van with reckless abandon. Your moans turned shameless, high and sweet and unrestrained as he drove you higher with every brutal snap of his hips. The tightness coiling within you was unmissable and yet just slightly out of reach, infuriating. 

So you dropped a hand down between you, rubbing desperately at your clit as he kept thrusting into you consistently, his panted breaths and pretty groans falling against your cheek. He gave it to you just how you wanted it, hitting all the right spots that had your eyes rolling and your toes curling. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you shrieked as the tension grew to unbearable heights, your muscles clenching around him like a vice, pulling a low groan from his chest. And you sobbed out his name when you finally came, head arching back against the blankets and the door of the van, your body shuddering through the waves of your orgasm as he fucked you through it.

Roger was barely about to get his wits about him enough to ask gravelly, “Where d’you want it?”

You still had yet to properly catch your breath, chest heaving as you struggled to think of a response for a moment. Then, “Wanna come on my tits?”

“Fuck…yeah,” Roger groaned and then he was pulling out, leaving you horribly empty as his hand took over instead. He sat back from you while he stroked himself off at that same relentless pace, “C’mon then.”

You hurried to shift closer, positioning yourself in front of him so that, only a few seconds later, he was coming across your chest in thick spurts. His moans were angelic, arguably pitch perfect, working himself off with his hand until your bra was splattered in messy white and more was leaking down between your breasts. 

You grinned lazily up at him, chest rising and falling as you caught your breath, the both of you slick with sweat and satisfaction. Roger let out a low groan despite his smile and he grabbed a crumpled t-shirt from across the floor to wipe you down, the gesture oddly tender despite the filth of what had just happened.

He collapsed beside you, arm lazily draped across your waist, and the two of you sank into the mess of tangled blankets and flattened cushions. The air was still heavy, humid with sex and summer heat, but it no longer felt suffocating. You were curled into his side, your bare legs tangled with his as he lit a cigarette, the flame from his lighter dancing golden light across his flushed face for a moment before disappearing, leaving behind just the flaring red tip of the cigarette in the dim light. When he pulled you in closer, your head fit perfectly in the crook of his shoulder, the rise and fall of his chest slow and steady beneath your cheek.

His skin was tacky against yours and the blankets were scratchy but neither of you seemed to mind, finding your peace as strangers who didn’t quite feel like strangers any longer. The silence was peaceful as you laid there together and he smoked away the dopamine high, watching the smoke twirl up towards the low wood-paneled ceiling of the van. He offered out the cigarette after a moment and you took it from him graciously between index and middle fingers to bring to your lips for a relaxing drag. 

Roger watched you like that, tucked up close at your side, playing idly with the ends of your messy hair and threading it through his fingers. When you leaned your head back into his arm around you to look up at him, he leaned in to steal a kiss from your lips. Blindly, you passed him back the cigarette. 

“I’ve heard rumours that you’ve got a record deal,” you stated after a while of bathing in the silence. 

Roger chuckled lowly, smoke tumbling from his lips, “Nah, nothing like that yet, I’m afraid. Although, this studio up by Wembley allowed us to record whatever we wanted as a way for them to test some new equipment.”

“Well that’s good then, isn’t it?”

“The producers seemed somewhat chuffed with what we laid down, if I do say so myself,” Roger added with a crooked smile.

He held the cigarette out to you and you took it, responding simply, “They’d be stupid not to be instantly wowed.”

“I’m afraid you might be a bit biased there,” he teased.

“Not at all. I can even put in a good word for you: ‘These guys are so talented, absolutely wonderful. And that drummer of theirs is an incredible lay’.”

Roger’s head fell back with a genuine laugh, his arm tightening around your shoulders. You smiled through your next puff of the cigarette, warm at the sound of his laughter over your ridiculous joke. 

You lingered in that quiet moment, sharing the cigarette and whispered talks of the future. He spoke about where he wanted the band to go, how big he wanted to make it, all the songs already swirling in his mind. It was clear this wasn’t just a dream — it was a calling. Any talk of university or backup plans was brushed aside, irrelevant compared to this fire in him. He was so passionate, so certain, it made it easy to believe in him too but who knew what the future would hold. 

You were just starting to feel drowsy, tucked warm beneath his arm, comfortable in your hideaway, when a sharp knock landed against the steamed-up window of the van.

“Oi! Roger, you dirty bastard!” came a muffled voice, followed by a chorus of cackles.

Another joked to the others with a, “You owe me five quid, darling! I said he’d be mid-shag!”

Then came a third voice and another firm knock on the window, “Bar’s closed, mate—they kicked everyone out. Time to quit muckin’ about in there, we gotta get going.”

Roger groaned and dragged a hand down his face, but he was grinning despite himself, peeling himself away from you to lean over and stamp out the cigarette in the ashtray on the floor as he called back, “Alright, alright! Give us a second, would you?”

You felt a pang in your heart at the realization that your perfect night was coming to an abrupt ending but you didn’t let your disappointment show. Instead, the two of you moved with haste to redress and then Roger was yanking open the back door of the van, allowing the cool night air to spill inside. 

His three bandmates stood against the alley wall a few paces away, one nursing a cigarette of his own, a stack of instrument cases towering beside them, waiting to be loaded into the van you had just tainted. None of them really batted an eye at the situation as you climbed out of the van in some terrible forward walk of shame, Roger’s hand on your arm making sure you didn’t lose your balance. 

“You sure we can’t drive you home?” he asked softly, hanging out the back of the van like he knew just how cool he was. 

You lingered close for a bit longer, voice quiet, as if trying to hold onto the moment of just the two of you for as long as you could, “I’m sure. I’m not far.”

Accepting your reply, Roger then leaned in to kiss you, once, twice, and then for the third one, you linked your finger in his silver necklace to keep him there for a little longer. When he finally pulled away, he was grinning, sly and handsome, eyes all over your face as if memorizing every inch to memory. 

“Oh,” he suddenly dipped back into the van for a second before returning with the drumsticks in hand. He held them out to you, “These are yours.”

You smiled back and accepted them, slipping them into your back pocket once more with a quiet thanks. 

“Take care then,” Roger said simply. 

You left him with one more kiss and a whispered, “Don’t forget about me when you’re famous.”

When you walked away from the van that night, you didn’t look back, even as you felt his eyes watching you retreat. You never saw him again; not in that way at least. Instead, you followed him and his career through television and the newspapers and their chart-topping albums as his band climbed into fame. Just like how you knew they would. 

Sometimes, you thought about that night back in the early half of 1971, the stuffy college bar and the loud music and that blonde drummer who looked at you like you were everything, just for a night. The drinks, the cigarettes, the van, the flirting, the sex.

Sometimes, as you listened to their number one hits on the radio, you wondered if he remembered that night too.

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[fangirl-writes]

Enough

Young!Roger Taylor x Reader

Queen is my latest obsession

Warning(s): Domestic fight, violence (Roger punches a wall), swearing. Angst. I used a gay slur in there once (f*ggot). It’s not an important part of the story, but a warning anyhow because I know some people aren’t comfortable with the word.

Notes: Angsty stuff here people. I hope I pulled on those heartstrings, but I added a happy ending so all’s well. Also I have no idea how record players work but I wish I did. Also I don’t think cheating is ever okay, but we all know Roger did it and I wanted to try something a little eloquent and angsty.

Summary: You and Roger get into a fight because you want to know why you aren't enough.

Roger threw his keys onto the table. “You’re being ridiculous, Y/N!”

“I am not! Roger why won’t you just give me an answer!”

“Because I shouldn’t have to! We’ve had this conversation before I don’t know why you’re getting so upset about this!”

“And I don’t know why you won’t just answer me!”

“I’ve already told you-”

“You haven’t told me anything!”

“I’ve told you enough!”

“Which isn’t anything!”

“Why the hell does this matter so fucking much to you!”

“Because I want to know, Roger!”

“It shouldn’t matter!”

“But it does matter!”

“Just to you!”

“Yeah because you won’t fucking tell me anything!”

Roger turned with an angry shout, flinging his fist into the wall behind him. The sound as the drywall cracked made you scream and Roger turned to you, hand still curled into a now bloody fist, the action not lessening his anger.

The silence that filled the air was suffocating as you stood there staring in horror at the look on his face, the blood coating his knuckles, and the gaping hole that was now in the wall behind him.

Roger walked passed you towards the door and gave it an angry slam on his way out.

You broke down, dropping to the floor and sobbing. You were still angry, still hurt, and still scared.

After about an hour had passed you finally got the strength to get off the floor and make your way to the phone.

You dialed the number that you knew by heart and waited as it rang in the otherwise quiet house.

“Hello?”

“Brian?”

“Y/N?” He said, hearing the heartbreak in your voice. “What’s wrong? Has something happened? Did Roger-”

“We had a fight. He walked out and hasn’t been back for a while and I’m starting to worry about him.”

“You’ve had a fight and you’re worried about him?”

You sniffed, wiping at your wet cheeks.

“God, Y/N, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Would- would you just find him? I-I don’t think he wants to see me but he punched the wall before he left and his hand was all bloody-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, love. It’s not your fault he blew a gasket, okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, and felt even more tears falling down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You hummed in response, your throat tight.

“We’ll bring him home.”

That was the last thing he said before hanging up and you choked out another sob, letting the phone drop from your hand and swing from the cord as you found yourself on the floor again, back against the wall as you sobbed into your knees.

Thinking back on it now, it had been your fault the fight had happened.

It had been about Roger’s endless groupies you knew he fucked every time he was on tour.

You’d talked about it back when you first started dating and you’d told him you were okay with it. You’d talked about it with your friends and family who’d been concerned about it and you’d told them you were fine with it. The other Queen members had asked you about it, offering to watch him for you while on tour, but you’d told them it didn’t bother you.

Hell, eventually you’d convinced yourself you were fine with it.

It was fine. I’m fine. What he does when I’m not around is fine because at the end of the day he always comes home to me. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

Then why. Why. Why did it take that stupid tabloid article to finally make you realize that you weren’t.

You don’t even know what compelled you to pick up the magazine. Usually you avoided picking up anything that even remotely mentioned the boys because you knew most of it would be slander. Calling Freddie a faggot or Roger a slut or John an absent husband. You hated those articles.

So then why? You asked yourself again. Why did you pick up that stupid tabloid?

Maybe it was because it was one of the few that mentioned you on the cover? Maybe it was because you were bored and wanted something to flip through? You didn’t remember and it didn’t matter now because the moment your eyes landed on that article it was over. And, at the moment, it felt like your stupidest decision.

Roger Taylor, Queen’s Sex Machine, Back At It Again.

After deciding his current girlfriend, Y/N L/N, wasn’t enough for the famous rock star, Roger Taylor was seen acting more than friendly with various groupies during his last tour. Our sources were not able to find a reaction from Y/N, making us suspect that she either doesn’t know about his sexual escapades, ignores them, or doesn’t care. How long will their relationship last if Y/N can’t fulfill Roger’s sexual needs? And how long will it take Roger to come to the conclusion he’s had enough of her?

Enough.

That was the word that kept playing back for you in your head. ‘Deciding his current girlfriend wasn’t enough’, ‘come to the conclusion he’s had enough.���

Why weren’t you enough?

You didn’t know how long you sat there, no tears left to cry and a whole in your heart. You felt numb. Whatever anger or sadness you’d been holding onto before was gone and replaced with an ache in your chest that wouldn’t go away.

It took a knock at the door to finally let all the emotions come flooding back to you.

Was that Brian? What if he didn’t find Roger? What if he did? Were you ready to face him again? Would he still be mad? Of course he’d still be mad. What would you say? Would you apologize? No, you don’t have anything to apologize for. Then what? If he was still mad, he certainly wasn’t going to apologize, that much you knew. What if he did apologize? ‘I’m sorry I caused you the worry, I’ll change how I live my life because you want me to’? No, that’s not what you wanted, you didn’t want him to change because of your outburst. What if he broke up with you? What if he kicked you out? You didn’t think you could stand going back to your family or friends and their pitying looks and ‘I told you so’s. ‘That’s what you get for dating a rock star’ they’d say. He finally decided you weren’t enough. Enough. Enough. Enough.

The knocking came again, this time harder and more persistent.

You rose from your spot on the floor and made your way to the door, every scenario going through your head as the knocking repeated.

“Y/N, darling, if you don’t open this door right now I’m going to break it down.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that made it’s way to your lips as you turned the knob and opened the door.

“I’d like to see you try, Freddie,”

Freddie Mercury stood on the other side of the door, a sad smile making its way to his lips.

“Brian told me what happened.”

The smile you tried to keep on fell at his words and soon you were in tears again, wrapped in Freddie’s arms.

“Oh, darling, oh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He soothed, stroking your hair as you cried into his shoulder. “I saw that stupid article. I thought something like this might happen.”

You weren’t sure whether his words made you feel better or worse.

He brought you into the living room and sat you down on the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before leaving your side to approach the record player sitting on a shelf near by.

You and Roger spent many hours listening to Jimi Hendrix or The Beatles, sometimes even Led Zeppelin if you could talk him into it. He even danced with you to ‘Since I've Been Loving You’ on your anniversary.

You smiled as he flipped through the albums before deciding on one of their own: A Night At The Opera. The one that, arguably, put them on the map.

You closed your eyes as ‘Death on Two Legs’ started playing softly. It wasn’t their most relaxing song, but their music had a way of calming you down. Freddie knew this after seeing you in the studio with them multiple times, absolutely relaxed in the creative environment.

He occupied the seat next to you again, pulling you to his chest as an offer to snuggle into him.

You accepted the offer and smiled softly as you listened to the angry and bitter song. You remembered them telling you it was based on their nasty former manager, Norman Sheffield.

“His loss,” You’d told them back then. “He’ll be forever known as the man who lost Queen.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Freddie had exclaimed. “It was like a movie scene! You should’ve been there, Y/N. It was a perfect exit.”

“Yeah and then we threw a brick through his window.” Roger added with a smug grin.

“Not our brightest idea.” Brian said.

“Never said any of you were the smartest lot.”

They’d shoved you around for that comment with laughter and good natured retorts.

The memory made you smile, the bad thoughts from before being driven away from your head as you remembered and snuggled against your favorite piano player as his voice drifted through the air.

You wondered if the song would’ve made you angrier if you didn’t know what it was really about and didn’t have the memory attached to it. You supposed it would have but you could only giggle at the lyrics now. It was bitter and mean, as Freddie once called it, but it was a great song.

‘Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon’ came next and you released a breath at the softer tone. The song reminding you of Alice in Wonderland and Singing in the Rain, films that you had watched as a kid. It was a short song, but it did wonders for your mood with its playful and happy tune.

It wasn’t until ‘I’m In Love With My Car’ came on that you realized he’d put the record on the B-Side.

You sat up from Freddie, a frown on your face, mood brought down again. 

“Change it.” You commanded.

“Sorry, dear, too comfortable here.” He replied, a smirk on his face.

You bit your lip, near to tears again, as Roger’s song played along in the background. The song he’d fought himself into a cupboard for and that you relentlessly teased him about.

“Freddie, please, I-I don’t-”

A knock interrupted your sentence and Freddie practically launched himself over the couch to get it.

The limber bastard.

You followed him reluctantly, knowing who would be on the other side of that door. The man singing a song about his car.

Freddie pulled open the door to John Deacon who was stood with a frown on his face that disappeared into concern as he noticed you enter the room.

He moved to hug you, which you happily accepted. Hugging Freddie and Deacy was a comforting feeling that you desperately needed.

“Why’s this song playing?” He wondered aloud, more confused than anything.

The comment made you laugh.

“Y/N.”

You pulled away from John to face Brian who was giving you a similar look. It wasn’t pity, but rather a sort of concern. It warmed your heart to think that they cared for you so much.

Were you enough in their eyes?

“We found him walking. Had to take him to the hospital for his hand, but-”

“Is he still angry?”

“No.” Brian said, catching you by surprise. “I don’t think he’s been angry for a while.”

Your eyes swelled with tears as Brian motioned for Roger to come inside.

If you were in a better mood, you would have laughed. Roger Taylor waiting for permission to go inside his own home.

He walked passed Brian, avoiding everyone’s eyes and staring at his shoes.

The song changed to ‘You’re My Best Friend’ but nobody paid any attention to the music.

Freddie had an annoyed expression on his face and opened his mouth to say something until Deacy put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Silently telling him it wasn’t appropriate and that they’d lectured him enough for one night.

“Happy at Home” the song chimed, normally earning a snarky comment from Roger, but it seemed he wasn’t listening or at least not caring about the line for once.

“Come on, boys, I think we better leave these two alone.” Brian spoke up after a minute of silence. “Fred, I’ll take you home.”

Freddie seemed reluctant to leave. Whether that was because he was concerned or because he wanted to witness the drama of it all was unknown, but he followed the other two band members out the door.

You stood in silence for another minute as the song in the background faded into 39. A song you loved.

It seemed to be the kick Roger needed to finally look up at you with his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Hi,” He said.

“Hi...” You replied.

“I’m sor-”

“No.” You shook your head. “No, Roger, please don’t apologize, I don’t want an apology for something I started. No, Rog, all I want is an answer.”

“An answer for what?”

You blinked back tears as you asked the dreaded question again. “Why aren’t I enough?”

Enough. Enough. Enough.

Roger’s eyes swelled up with his own tears and he shook his head with a small laugh.

“Ridiculous, really. You’ve always been enough, Y/N. Always.”

“Then why?” You said, tears streaming freely down your cheeks again. You felt like you’d cried an ocean. “Why sleep with all those groupies on tour? Am I not pleasing you enough? Is that it?”

“No!” Roger exclaimed. “God no, it’s perfect! You’re perfect.”

“Then why?” you asked again, voice raising before dropping to a murmur as you hung your head. “Why?”

Roger took your face in his hands. “Please, don’t cry, love.”

You shook your head, palms digging into your eyes to try to get rid of the tears.

He hugged you to his chest and you felt your heart ache once again because, as mad as you were at him, you longed for his comfort.

“I think I do it because- fuck it, I know I do it because I’m afraid.” He said.

You sniffed. Afraid? Afraid of what?

“I’m afraid that one day you’ll you realize what a twat I am and I’ll come home and you won’t be there. I do it because I’m afraid of getting attached to you, even though I know I already have, because what if you leave me one day? What if you decide that I’m not enough for you?”

You looked up at him. “You're afraid of that?”

Roger feigned laughter, not meeting your gaze. “Yeah, the bloody rock star has feelings. Ha ha.”

“No.” You pull his gaze to you again, feeling about a thousand emotions at once. “Roger, I’ve spent the entire day wondering why I wasn’t enough for you and you’re here telling me that you did all this shit because you think you’re not enough for me? Me?”

You took a deep breath, trying not to cry again.

“I love you, Roger Taylor. And you will always be more than enough for me. No matter how many groupies you sleep with or how many times you hurt me or whatever the fuck those fucking magazines say about you because I love you more than I hate you and sometimes I really fucking hate you.”

Roger smiled sadly at you. “I love you more, Y/N L/N, and I don’t deserve you, not at all. You have always been enough for me and I promise that I will try harder to show you that instead of being the dickhead that keeps breaking your heart.”

You sniffed, burying your face in his chest again.

“Always.” He whispered into the top of your head. “You are always gonna be enough for me.”

“Write your letters in the sand for the day I take your hand. In the land that our grandchildren knew.”

You snuggled into Roger’s chest as ‘39 came to a close, his hand squeezing yours in a sort of reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere again.

“All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand. For my life. Still ahead. Pity me.”

“I love you,”

It was a whisper, barely above his breath but you heard it and you savored the sound of his confession in the sudden silence.

Roger pulled away from you, much to your displeasure and confusion and walked into the living room, making a beeline for the record player. You followed him, hoping not to look too much like a lost puppy.

He flipped the record and adjusted the needle.

He held out his hand as ‘Love of My Life’ started playing.

You’d have cried if you had any tears left.

You took it and he pulled you into a sloppy sort of waltz that made you laugh. The boy could sing, but when it came to dancing he was no John Deacon. You leaned your head on his chest, taking in his scent (cigarette smoke, scotch, and the smell of his lingering cologne).

“I really am sorry. For everything. I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

“I know. And I’m not going to forgive you, not for a while, maybe not ever, but we can move past it. Just hold me, yeah?”

And he did. He held you for as long as he could.

[warnersister]

Car Girl || Roger Taylor

—Head Canon—

Roger Taylor x Reader

Warnings: none.

When you first rolled up to the bar in your Aston Martin DB7 Vantage Volante, it was love at first sight for Roger.

This man was smitten.

He would’ve gotten down on one knee while asking for your name.

You walked in there like you owned the place.

A cigarette between your lips, a confident strut in your walk, and a half-arsed smirk that seemed to follow you around.

Don’t even get him started on the outfit. Blue flared jeans with red stars on the back, black shiny boots, a skin-tight white top, and hair that he could only compare to Farrah Fawcett.

He wanted to call you Mrs Taylor, but you told him to call you (Y/n).

Of course when his band played to an almost non-existent audience, he drummed his heart out, smashing his kit so hard that Brian was surprised there were no punctures.

But when he realised when he was your soulmate?

When they finished playing their set, a few drunk divorcees clapped - you however, raised an eyebrow.

You walked right up to him, eyed him up and down, and offered him a wink when you took the drums sticks from his hand - wandering up to the bar’s personal drum kit,

And you played Led Zeppelin’s Moby Dick.

His jaw dropped.

His eyes formed hearts.

And Cupid aimed his bow.

When you finished, you walked back up to him, simply handed back over his semi-warn drumsticks, and stomped on your dying cigarette.

“One-nil drummer boy.”

When the night was over, he sat helplessly in his car as it wouldn’t start.

You knocked on the window, and the thing you said possibly aligned the stars - created history.

“Need a ride?”

-Requests Open-

[harrisonbrows]

☆ ROGER TAYLOR ICONS ☆

Like/Reblog if you Use/Save

[rogermyreligion]

Future Management

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Female Reader.

Summary: Roger wrote a song for you but he gets insecure about the lyrics.

Warnings: Swearing, insecurities, softie Rog, sexual innuendo.

Word count: 2,6k

"Im gonna invite you to try my machine?" Brian said reading the sheet of paper, frowning.

"What is your freaking problem with metaphors Brian?" Roger sighed in frustration.

"Do you really think she's going to like it?" Brian said looking up from the sheet to meet Roger's eyes.

"I don't know, maybe you are right, maybe my writing is a piece of shit," Roger said sharply as he snatched the sheet from Brian's hands, anger dripping from his pores.

"I didn't say that Rog-" Brian was cut off by Roger's anger.

"But you thought about it, i can tell, i'm not an idiot," He said as he folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

Suddenly, Freddie and John entered the studio where Roger and Brian were, coffee in hands.

"Hello my beautys," Freddie said with a big smile coming through the door, "Hey Rog, Y/N is coming, I saw her parking her car so she will be here in a few minutes,"

"Hi guys," Brian said waving while Roger just gave a sad smile.

"What were you doing?" John asked as he sat across from them, Freddie did the same while sipping his coffee.

"Nothing." Roger said without any emotion, no gesture.

"Is not nothing," Brian laughed a little at his attitude.

"Yes, is nothing."

"Hey Rog, why is that face? Bad day? Tell us darling," Freddie said as he patted his knee gently.

"Just wrote a song," He said quietly.

"For Y/N," Brian said loudly as he tuned his guitar.

Roger sighed at the little comment, gazing Brian with an annoying face.

"Thats so sweet of you Rog, can we take a look at the lyrics?" John said in a curious tone.

"No, it's bullshit, I'm going to write another one later," There was a tone of disappointment in his voice. He really liked his own song but he was so unsure.

Roger was very insecure when it comes to writing a song, he was always the most criticized by the band, when he felt that what he had written was really good -boom- someone had something to say against his work. That's why it was normal for Roger to approach Brian to show him what he had written, he was the one he trusted the most, Brian knew about his insecurity. Besides, this was not only a normal song, this was a song that he wrote for you and specially you.

It occurred to Roger while the two of them were lying under a tree in the park, it was a spring day, the warm sun in both faces was very comfortable, you were with your head on his lap, playing with the petals of a flower while Roger stroked your hair gently, enjoying the fresh air and the singing of the birds, until you said a phrase that made his mind click.

"I really like this, y'know, the nature, the fresh air, the noise of the leaves of the trees, you here with me, I'm starting to think that I don't need nobody else but you, I know it sounds like a fucking comedy romantic, but i dunno," You giggled shaking your head, thinking how stupidly romantic that sounded.

Roger opened his eyes and smiled to himself, "I think it's very sweet, love" he said giving you a kiss on the forehead, "I like this too," he smiled, glancing at you with appreciation.

You could see Roger very normal, but in his mind he already wrote half the song, and he knew what rhythm he was going to use, he was really creative. So Roger made up an excuse for you to come home, Roger was quite excited on the way, he drummed something with his fingers on the wheel while whistling, he was in a very good mood, you knew there was something in his head, but you didn't know what.

When you both arrived, you went to take a shower and Roger locked himself in the room with his guitar, obviously when you came out of the bathroom Roger hid everything, as if nothing had happened.

He was very proud of what he had written, and there he was right now, in the studio with his bandmates, totally unsure of his lyrics, totally unsure of his own work, totally unsure of his beautiful art, it was as if someone had slapped him on the face.

Freddie was about to force Roger to show him what he wrote (as he always does) but just then you walked into the studio.

"Heeeeello everyone" you grinned, filling the room with a good vibe, "I almost hit an older woman's car and she started yelling at me," you chuckled, "People are bloody crazy,"

Everyone laughed, except Roger, he just forced a smile, while his knee trembled.

You approached him and stroked his hair, he automatically relaxed under your touch, you leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek, Roger looked at you and smiled slightly.

You could easily tell that something was wrong with him, it was so obvious, but when you were about to ask him what was wrong, he got up and went straight to his drums.

Roger was very weird the whole time they were in the studio, he was almost sad, he usually used to give his opinion about what they recorded, but today there was nothing like that, he only did what Freddie told him, he didn't questioned anything. Brian noticed this, of course, he was like his little son and he felt a bit guilty about it, so while Roger was recording some takes with his drums in the booth, Brian walked up to you to chat.

"Hey, I think Roger will kill me if I tell you this," He giggled as he put down his guitar, "But he wrote you a song, he showed it to me earlier today, and I think I made him unsure about the lyrics, you know how Roger is with his insecurity," he waved his hand in the air.

You nodded and frowned, "He wrote me a song? Like, a real song?" the corners of your lips raised a little.

"Yes, he did, and I think you would help him a lot if you talk to him about it, you know, you are his weakness, he trusts you," Brian gave you a warm smile as he took up his guitar again and made his way to the booth after Freddie called him.

You thought about that all day. Roger had written you a song, a fucking song, no one had never written you a song before, you felt special, truly special. Roger was so cute, you couldn't think of anything other than grabbing him by the face and kissing him like he was the the first time you kiss someone. The fact that Roger is sad because he is insecure with his song broke your heart in two, Brian's opinions always affected him, he is his best friend of all life, if Brian does not liked something, Roger would convinced himself that Brian was the one who was right.

The day at the studio ended and you and Roger were in your car on the way home. Roger was quiet the whole trip, playing with the pocket of his pants, the pocket where the sheet with the lyrics of his song was, you could see he was frustrated and nervous, you realized since he was biting his nails, you hated when he did that, because it hurted his nails.

"Don't bite your nails," you said a bit serious as looking at him from the corner of your eye.

He automatically take his hand off his face, like when you scold a little child, he knew that you hated that he bites his nails but he did it unconsciously.

"I'm sorry, i wont do that again," he mumbled.

Poor baby, your heart was literally melting right now.

"Its okay silly boy" you giggled, "Is something wrong? You are being weird," you said without taking your eyes off the road.

"What? Oh- yes yes, just stressed and tired," he lied while looking out the window.

You clearly knew he was lying to you, but you didn't tell him anything. When you parked the car, both of you got out and entered the house, you hung up your coat and went to the kitchen to help yourself to something to drink, Roger sat on the couch and turned on the TV.

After a long time, you couldn't hold back this no more.

Roger and you were lying on the couch, your head resting on his chest as he hugged you and caressed your lower back.

"Roggie," you said in a soft tone.

"Whats up, sweetheart?" He stop watching TV to look into your eyes, putting a hair behind your ear.

"Someone told me that you wrote a song for me," you said with a smile on your face, accompanied by a sweet giggle.

'Brian dumbass' he thought.

"It's not a big deal, it sucks, but don't worry, I'll write you another one," he said kissing your forehead, his eyes returned to the TV screen, trying to avoid the subject.

"C'ome on darling, i wanna hear it," you made the best wet dog face you could have, "Don't be a bad boy, bad boys are not rewarded," you said with a smirk, lowering your hand to his pants.

"Nuh uh," He laughed while taking your hand out of the place, "You are not going to convince me by giving me a handjob, naughty girl,"

Fuck, this affected him more than you expected, Roger bloody Taylor just denied you a handjob A HANDJOB. Brian what the hell did you do to my poor little boyfriend.

"Oh come on, don't be a dick," you said laughing, burying your hands in his pockets, looking for traces of any paper that has the lyrics of the song, if you couldn't hear it, at least you wanted to read it.

Roger laughed proudly and shaking his head knowing you were never going to find the sheet of paper, "Wrong pants, sweetie."

Roger had changed into more comfortable clothes when they arrived, so his other pants where probably in the bedroom. You looked at him with a challenging face while raising an eyebrow, without warning, you jumped out of the couch to go and find the pants he was wearing at the studio.

But Roger ran over and grabbed your arm, hard enough to hold you still, but not hard enough to hurt you.

"You are not gonna read my song baby," he said as he buried his face in your neck, looking for that spot that makes your knees turn to jelly, it was the only way for a whirlwind like you to stay still, he knew you too much well.

You tried to get rid of him, fighting between his tongue passing under your ear, tickling you a little bit, and your desire to read that bloody song.

He slowly brought you back to the couch and threw you on it, then he threw himself on you, leaving you with no way out.

"Please Rog, I'm serious, I want to hear that song of yours, im not gonna judge you, you don't need to be insecure with me," you begged him while you stroked his hair.

"Believe me what I tell you, it is not as good as I thought,"

"Is that because Brian told you that?" you raised an eyebrow, knowing the answer.

Roger did not say anything, he just laughed a little, a laugh that tried to overshadow his sadness, he wanted to show you the song, it was the first thing he wanted to do, but he was so insecure that he couldn't do it. He began to go upstairs, towards the room. You stayed on the sofa, surrended, thinking how to convince him at once.

After a while, it was already night, Roger was sitting on the bed reading a book, you entered the room with his guitar in hand, Roger took his eyes out of the book to meet yours.

"Sing it to me," you said firmly, giving him the guitar.

"Y/N, i told you tha-" you interrupted him.

"I don't fucking care Roger, just, sing it, you wrote it for me, I deserve to hear it, don't I?"

Roger thought about it for a few seconds, you were right, you deserved to hear his song, or rather, YOUR song.

"Rog, love" your voice was soft now, "You know me, I'm not going to criticize you, I never did, do you remember when you wrote the song about your car?, I was the only person who supported you with that song, because i really thought it was a good one, don't you remember?"

Roger laughed at the memory of him locked in the closet while you told him his song was good. Such a child he was.

"I love every piece of art you create, you are a very creative man, and I love it, I think that is what I like the most about you actually, but you have to stop being so insecure, i mean, you can ask for opinions, but don't let those opinions take hold of you, if you are sure about something just do it, artists should never doubt their abilities."

You sat next to him, you put the guitar on the bed.

Roger put the book on the nightstand and picked up the guitar. You smiled when you realized that your words convinced him, you were about to listen to the song that Roger wrote for you.

"Okay, mm" He cleared his throat, "The song is called 'Future Management' and it is a short song," He smiled to himself, starting to play some chords on the guitar.

"And, i wrote it the day we were on the park, remember? you said a phrase, that is in the song actually, and i just wrote the rest on my own," He continue to explain as you nodded, eager to listen.

You were sitting, totally expectant as he kept playing a couple of chords until he started singing.

"You won't need anyone else but me ...

You'll find,

I'm gonna invite you to try my machine

Program an offer you just can't refuse,

I'm gonna invite you to share all my dreams,

You've got nothing to lose

You won't need nobody else but me ...

You'll find,

I'm gonna invite you to try my machine,

Program an offer you just can't refuse,

I'm gonna invite you to share all my dreams,

You've got nothing to lose,

Recycle your thoughts,

I'll rewire your mind,

I'll punch in some new points of view,

To make sure you find,

You've got nothing to lose,

You don't need nobody else but me"

You almost cried out, your eyes crystallized at the instant he stop singing, the song was so beautiful, and knowing that he wrote it just for you makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

Roger looked at you, with a smile from ear to ear, he could tell that you love it, "You liked it?"

"Rog, are you joking? I LOVE IT" you said as he took out the guitar and put it aside, you jumped on him and kissed him deeply, Roger was more than happy, he had overcome his insecurity, thanks to you.

You cut the kiss to take a breath, Roger took you by the cheeks and wiped a tear with his thumb.

"I love you so much, sweetheart," your voice cracked a little.

"Believe me, I love you much more petal," he said and then he kissed you again.

The kiss just get more and more intense, heat running both bodies. Breath mixing.

Your hand lowered gently to his pants, you reached in, "I wanna try your machine, can I?" you whispered on his lips giggling.

Roger growled at the touch, "I invited you first, so that is a yes" he said unbuttoning his shirt.

Masterlist

[moonstarrr]

Tag along,little one (Joe Mazzello x reader)

(Fluff)

Summary: Joe takes your daughter out grocery shopping when she doesn’t want him to leave without her

(I hope you enjoy:))

•

•

•It was around 2:30 in the afternoon and you had a list of things you had to get for the house because you ran out of them. You were already exhausted, you have a 4 year old daughter who is always full with energy, your husband Joe was busy , so you were kind of left to do most stuff by yourself but Joe tried his best to help you in anyway possible and you were always thankful for that . You were grabbing your bag and put on your shoes going upstairs to tell Joe that you were about to head out to go get some stuff from the grocery store. He was on his laptop probably responding too some emails he got but you weren’t too sure. You walked her and sat next to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I'm going to the store ill be back and Lilly is in her room playing”you said while sounding exhausted 

Joe looked at you and he felt bad about you still going to do things, he knew you were stubborn so it would be hard for him to convince you to stay home but his being the husband that he is, he was going to do it for you. Wether you liked it or not he wasn't changing his mind. 

‘how about I do it for’ he said with a smile on his face, he took his hand in yours and kissed you. Part of you wanted to tell him that it was alright and that you would do It but then again you needed the rest .

‘you would really do that, I mean if your busy I don't wanna be a bother too you’ you looked at him with a small tired smile.

“you have done enough love don't worry about it, and I already know where you put the list so you have nothing else to worry about other than too go rest “

He got up and went to go get his sweater since it was fall and it tends to get really chilly . You went to you and Joe’s shared bedroom and changed into9 some more comfy clothes, sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. You then went to check on your daughter to make sure she was okay. When you got into her room you saw that she was playing with some dolls and stuff animals that were spreader out on the floor . You picked her up from behind and tickled her a little bit allowing small and happy giggles to come out of her mouth. When you sat her down on her bad she looked around the room.

‘Where's daddy mommy ‘? you couldn't help but smile at what she said because she looked super cute saying it

“Daddy's about to go to the store in a while, do you wanna go say bye” you said fixing her hair. Next thing you now your daughter is running downstairs to go find  her dad, you were right behind her mostly because you didn't want anything to happen to her while she was going down the stairs. She was saying “daddy” over and over again trying to look for him. When she found him he was about to head out the front door. He turned around and looked at her and she put her arms out running towards him and he picked her up. Joe looked at you and smiled causing you too smile back at him.

“Daddy I don't want you too leave” she said while pouting and putting her face in his neck. “I'm just going to the store love, I will come back im not leaving.” That’s not what she wanted to hear and she started crying. You were confused because she never acted like this went he went out.

“ How about you go with daddy will that be fun princess.” you said hoping that will make the poor girl feel better, Joe wiped away her tears and kissed her forehead. Her mood instantly changed and she was eager to get dressed. 

“ I get to go the store with daddy” 

she went upstairs to go get dressed and choose what she wanted to wear.

Joe came over too you and stood next too you while putting an arm around your waist “She’s too cute y/n”

“Well who is her father” you said sarcastically while laughing”

[anne-white-star]

Band queen x reader : the little things

Notes : reader is afraid of thunderstorms so the band decide to comfort her. They build a pillow fort, watch a movie, eat some snacks and cuddle together. Takes place during the early years of queen.

Other note vhs tapes weren't invented thill 1977 but lets pretend they were invented earlier 😅

Warnings : fear of thunder and lightning

Words : 1180

(Photo doesn't belong to me)

The boys were at their own home talking about what song they should record next, it was raining pretty hard outside

"I say Fred we should go and record liar first" said john while stiring his tea

"I think seven seas of rhye is better" Freddie said while sipping his drink

The phone that hung on the wall started to ring, roger picked up " roger taylor speaking how can i help you?"

"Hey rog its me y/n"

"Oh hi y/n What is it? "

"Um i feel stuppid to ask but could you and the guys please come over?"

"Oh yeah sure we will be there in 20 minuts"

"Thanks rog" she hang up the phone

He placed the phone on the wall "Guys that was y/n she asked if we could come she sounded a bit panicked"

Brian stood up And grabed the car keys "i'll drive lets go"

Like roger promiced they arived there within 20 minuts. It was raining cats and dogs outside. John rang the bell

Y/n opend the door "Oh thank goodness you guys are here, come in" they all walked in and went to the livingroom, y/n was about to close the door when a big bright flash filled the sky and then a big boom sound. She recoiled in fear. she closed the door and locked it then walked to the livingroom

"So y/n why did we need to come over?" Asked Brian while looking around a bit

"Wel um," there was an other big flash, followed by an other big sound, she let go of a yelp and ducked down.

The boys looked at echoter and then back at y/n

"Oh y/n darling" Freddie stood up And kneeled infront of her. "Are you scared of the thunder?"

She nodded "Im sorry it looks so stuppid"

"Oh dear its not stuppid at al" he hugged her

John stood up "you know what we should do, watch a movie together" he walked up to the tv and picked up a vhs tape with Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory on it. "Do you want to watch this?"

Freddie helped y/n up "Yeah sure alright" and they both sat down on the coutch

Brian walked in to the kitchen "I'll go and make us something"

"Oh ok thats alright"

Roger and john picked up some blankets and pillows from the side of the coutch and they pulled some string lights from a drawer

Brian apeared from the kitchen "Hey y/n, do you have any popcorn?"

"Yes in the cabinet above the sink"

"Thanks" he went back to make some

"Roger john what are you guys doing?"

"Wel we thought that it would be a good idea to build a pillow fort"

"That sounds like fun" outside it was stil raining and thundering

Freddie, john, roger and y/n worked togeter to set up the fort, in about 10 minuts it was done .

"Oh its absolutly perfect" y/n clapt her hands

"The popcorn and tea is done" Brian had some cups in his hands and gave them to the others, then he went to get the bowl of popcorn.

"John could you put in the tape?"

"Yeah sure" he turned on the tv and put the tape in

"Are you ready y/n?" Roger asked

"Yeah i am" she smiled softly

"I never seen this movie before, what is it about?"

"Its about a man who has a candy factory and he needs a heir for his factory, so he puts 5 golden tickets in some candy bars al the 5 people who find the tickets are invited to the factory, but there can be only one winner" y/n and roger sat down on the coutch while the others sat down on the ground before them

"Sounds intresting"

"I watched it a few times already so im not gonna say anything" she smiled. Al of a sudden a big flash light up the room again after that a big boom was heared it shook the house. Y/n griped on to roger. " Sorry" she ducked her head

"Dont worry its alright" he smiled

John sat down "Lets get started with the movie".

*time skip*

They were half way trough the movie when Freddie said "i realy start to hate that veruca girl" then she started to sing i want it now " Oh god now she's singing"

"She wil get her karma don't worry" y/n laught

When the movie was over y/n turned off the tv. "So what did you guys think?"

"I loved it" said Brian

"God that part with the boat and the tunnel was so damn scary" roger had his legs pulled to his chest

"My favorite part was where charlie won the golden ticket" said John while putting away the popcorn bowl

"Me to plus the ending of was so sweet"

Brian stood up And looked out the window " its stil thundering outside, would you like us to stay the night?"

"Yes please if you guys dont mind"

"Alright but i think we need an extra mattress"

"There is one leaning against the wall in my bedroom"

"Alright mind helping me?"

"Sure bri" She stood up And walked to her room and opend the door. "here it is, i hope its good enough"

"Its perfect you take that side i take this one 1. 2 .3 " both of them picked it up And brought it back to the living room

"I got some extra blankets and pillows"

"Thanks Fred, put it down here bri"

"Alright" they both lowered it to the ground

"Deaky can you prepare it?"

"Sure i can y/n" he smiled

"Roger can you help me in the kitchen"

"Yes of course what are we going to do?"

"Im going to make some sandwiches for us all, could you grab a few things and help me prepair them?"

Roger nodded " Yeah sure what do you need?"

"Um bread, lunch meat, cheese, salad, and tomatos"

"Alright where is the bread?"

" Its in the cabinet above the sink where the popcorn also is, the rest is in the refrigerator" y/n pulled out the plates and a knife to cut some stuff up

About 10 minuts later the sandwiches are done "here you go guys enjoy"

"Thanks you two, these are delicious"

"Your welcome" y/n was a lot more on ease now after all the hours they spent together, but still there is some fear

Later that night They al prepared to get to sleep, Brian had closed the blinds and dimmed the lights "ready for bed y/n?"

"Yeah im tired, with who can i sleep?"

"You can sleep with me" roger grined and held up the blanket

"Alright Sure" she smiled and walked over to him she lied down and got comfy "good night guys"

"Good night y/n and of you are scared please wake us up"

"Will do thanks you all for today"

"Your welcome dear"

That night everyone went to sleep peacefully

The end

I hope you guys enjoyed reading please let me know what you think 😊 also concider rebloging if you like the story

Have a Nice day everyone♥️

[nonsensestuff]

POV: You've been Freddie's best friend for years and you are happy for him

Brian

John

Roger

Borhap Cast

[urgonnaneedabiggership]

Never Too Far

David Bowie x Fem! Reader

Category: Fluff, angst

Warnings: Just slight angst

Word Count: 5.9K

A/N: Hope you enjoy this little piece fueled by excitement and love for Bowie, I swear I proof read a couple of times but if anything went over my head, I apologize in advance for it. Enjoy! xox

Originally Posted by @fleeting-queen-of-pepperland

__________________

Music blared through the speakers, invading every inch of the house, making Y/n's chest rumble. Her hand tightly gripping her brother's as they made their way across the large living room towards the kitchen. 

"Are you sure they're in there?" Y/n asked, stretching her neck and brushing a couple strands of hair behind her ears to take a better look at the sea of faces surrounding them. John answered with a meek nod followed by an unsure shrug. 

"Roger said he'd be here, Brian already left with someone and god knows where Freddie is," he answered, slightly annoyed at his band mates for ditching him and his sister. They had been the ones to talk him into letting Y/n go with them to the party. 

"But it's at Mick's" John had protested "I don't want my sister on her own at one of his parties."

"Come on, Deacy!" Roger had insisted. "She's what, five minutes younger than you?" 

"Three." Y/n corrected, palms sweating as she tapped her fingers against her knees anxiously. "Please, John. You might've gotten used to being around these people by now, but this would mean so much to me!" 

John pursed his lips thoughtfully and stared at Y/n, who looked at him pleadingly, mouthing another "please", holding her hands together in front of her lips. 

"Alright," he receded, throwing his arms up in defeat "But don't wander off and if you even look at anything other than a joint, we're out. Understood?" 

Y/n nodded and hugged her brother gleefully, planting a kiss on his cheek, thanking him profusely. 

"Oh, don't worry, darling" Freddie said, patting John's shoulder reassuringly. "We'll look out of her from time to time, she'll be fine," 

Of course, they didn't, ergo John's annoyed expression. 

Once they walked into the kitchen, Roger was indeed in there, rummaging one of the cupboards while drunkenly whispering to himself. 

"For fuck's sake Jagger, you have all but the Queen's knickers in here but not some damn licorice?" 

"Rog?" John called from behind the drummer, who tripped on the chair he was standing on and barely managed to hold himself up by gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. He stared at the twins and smiled widely, a half-eaten chocolate bar hanging from his free hand. 

"Deacy! Y/n!" he exclaimed and carefully stepped down, "How's the party? Are you having a good time, love?" 

Roger didn't wait for a reply before taking another bite out of his chocolate bar, shaking his head while looking at Y/n. 

"Of course you aren't, how can you be remotely having fun with your dear chaperone breathing down your neck, you poor, poor thing. " 

Roger threw an arm around Y/n's shoulders and pulled her head down to his chest, running his hand down her hair in a comforting manner. 

Despite wanting to protest, Y/n knew he was right. She loved her brother to pieces, but he did have a hard time assimilating that fact that she was not a little girl anymore, and she wanted to live a lot more than he probably would be comfortable with. 

Unfortunately, she had never been confrontational enough to openly tell John to back off. If anything, she would sneak away or find any other passive way to get rid of her occasionally overbearing twin. 

Mostly, it was a lucky twist of fate that saved her from this kind of situation, and this wasn't the exception. 

That night it came in the shape of Freddie barging in through the kitchen door. 

"Brian just got in a fight!" he announced. 

"What? I thought he was leaving with that brunette!" John exclaimed, looking puzzled. Freddie laughed almost maniacally and nodded. 

"Oh, he tried to leave with her alright. But turns out she came here with Townshend and he's having none of it, and apparently dear Bri isn't either."

"I've got to see that, where are they?" Roger asked, bolting through the door. 

"Upstairs, in the hallway!" the singer replied as he quickly followed, still laughing gleefully. 

"Damn," John muttered, seeing them go before turning to his sister. "Stay here, I'll go and see if I'm sober enough to save their drunk asses" 

Y/n nodded eagerly, obviously not intending to obey his order and already wondering what part of the house she'd venture to first once John was out of the equation. Probably not the hallway upstairs. Just as a precaution, Y/n waited for a couple of minutes after her twin disappeared behind the kitchen door. As she scanned her surroundings, her eyes landed on the fridge before her. 

"Oh, what the hell." she whispered to herself as she swung the door open and grabbed a bottle of beer. Y/n hummed while she carefully pressed the lid against the edge of the counter and, with a sudden upwards movement, opened the bottle. A handy trick she had learned from Roger. 

Since everything seemed clear, she reached her hand out to grab the door knob before it suddenly twisted and someone flung the door open, covertly sliding inside the kitchen and closing the door after him. 

Instinctively thinking it was her brother, Y/n retreated to her original position, as if she never intended to leave the room. 

But the figure before her wasn't John. 

He was barely shorter, and slimmer. His skin was porcelain smooth, strands of his scruffy yellow hair fell over his forehead. With a quick head movement the man flipped them out of his face, uncovering his eyes. 

It wasn't until he turned around that she could see them properly, but he almost jumped backwards, startled by the figure quietly standing on the other side of the room that had gone unnoticed by him. 

"Bloody hell," he blurted out before taking a deep breath and leaning against the wall besides the door. "Sorry, I could've sworn I was alone," 

"No, no, it's okay." Y/n assured him with a soft chuckle. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I shouldn't have just stood here, in a dark corner, looking so creepy," 

"Well," he replied with a smirk "Can't be worse than a pale, scrawny weird-eyed lad, can it?" 

She nodded with an amused smile and shrugged. 

"Touche. I honestly thought for a moment I had too much to drink and was seeing a ghost, but then I realized…" Y/n lifted the untouched bottle of beer she was holding. "... I'm completely sober."

"Love, you don't want that." the man made his way towards her with a couple of strides and snatched the bottle from her hands. 

"I have already been here several times," he whispered, leaning closer to her as if he was revealing a big secret, even if they were alone in the kitchen. "I know where to find something more… suitable for such a pretty lady, follow me."

He took her hand, practically engulfing it in his slender and delicate fingers. He led her out of the kitchen, not letting go as he made his way across the crowd that had gathered in the living room, going as far as the top of the stairs. However, Y/n realized he was being careful as to not drag her too roughly through the innumerable bodies. 

Finally, he turned around a corner and slid through a small door, behind which a small staircase descended into a pitch black corridor. 

"I'm David," he said as he continued to walk down the stairs. Even in the darkness, Y/n could see his wide, mischievous smile when he looked back at her. 

"Y/n," she replied smiling back, although she doubted he had noticed since her eyes were anxiously fixed on the steps. 

"Here," he said gently, almost reading her mind, as he took her hand and placed it on his arm. "This stair is a little bit steep, you might want to hold onto me." 

Y/n nodded with a soft "thank you" before they continued their descent. 

Finally, they reached an underground room. David reached out his hand and began feeling the wall next to the entrance until he found the light switch. 

When he turned on the lights, Y/n could see three rows of large barrels and another of wooden racks, full of wine bottles of different kinds. Finally, a small metallic table stood in the center of the room, a silver tray with four glasses resting atop. 

"See?" David said, rubbing his hands together as he made his way towards the racks. He knelt before one and moved his fingers tentatively around the bottles while he chose one. Finally, he gripped the neck of a bottle with a beautifully painted label depicting an abstract bouquet of posies on a white background. 

"Are you sure Mick will be okay with this?"

Y/n asked, snickering nervously as she approached the table. David nodded without a single trace of worry and carefully pulled the cork off. 

"Come on, he won’t miss one sad little bottle, he’s got plenty,” he assured and carefully poured the two glasses, handing one to Y/n. 

“Well, cheers to that,” Y/n said, lifting her glass with a soft laugh. He reciprocated the toast and took a small sip of his glass, staring at Y/n thoughtfully with pursed lips as she took another sip. 

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” he said with an amused grin. Y/n felt her face burn as she bit the inside of her cheek, pondering on whether the words in her brain should leave her mouth. However, thanks to that odd instant connection established between the two of them, David seemed to peek into her mind once again. 

“You do know who I am, don’t you?” he asked. 

“I do!” Y/n gave in, clamping her hand over her forehead and shaking her head, “Of course I do, I’ve been actively trying to get a hold of myself for the last ten minutes, I figured it would be awful to come up to someone wanting a normal conversation and instead end up with another starstruck fan babbling about how much they love your music and how you’re amazing, blah, blah, blah.” 

Y/n looked up at David, who was just staring back with a surprised expression and obviously trying to refrain himself from bursting out laughing. However, before she could panic any further, he grabbed the bottle and leaned forward. 

“I believe the most responsible thing to do would be to cut you off,” However, he did exactly the opposite and tilted the bottle to refill Y/n’s glass. “But if this is what it takes to keep you talking, I’d let you wipe out Mick’s entire cellar, dear.” 

Y/n let out a relieved laughter, feeling more tranquil now that she had gotten that off her chest and didn’t scare poor David away. Said calmness increased when he began laughing as well. It was an honest and hearty laugh that made both of them forget the entire party above them, even after the laughter stopped and they sat in a comfortable silence, sipping on their glasses contentedly. 

“Coltrane,” David said after a short while. Y/n hummed questioningly and furrowed her eyebrows. 

“John Coltrane,” the musician repeated, “do you know him?” 

“I absolutely love John Coltrane,” Y/n replied, emphasizing every word, “I have spent years collecting every album of his, and now I’m only missing A Love Supreme,” 

“That I can help with,” David replied with a flirty smile. Y/n now positively blushed, which he noticed despite her attempt to hide it behind the glass as she raised it to her lips. 

“Smooth,” She quipped. “Alright, Chet Baker?” 

“Love him. I’d hate to boast, but I own a gigantic collection of jazz records. Coltrane, Davis, Baker, you name it. Perhaps you’d like to visit me sometime and I could show them to you?” 

Y/n nearly choked on her wine. However, she realized that the longer she kept talking to the world-famous rockstar, the less she perceived him as such, now rather seeing him as a fellow jazz connoisseur who happened to be undeniably charming. 

Suddenly, their pleasant chatter was interrupted by an odd sound. It was so out of place that it took Y/n a couple minutes to put her finger on what it was, until she realized it was a doorbell. More specifically, the one they had at her building. How the hell could the doorbell of her flat be ringing in Mick Jagger’s cellar, and too loudly to be at the main door? 

As Y/n turned to face David, she blinked confused when her eyes met nothing but an empty space next to the table. Before she could think or say anything else, the doorbell began ringing once again in an annoyingly persistent fashion.

Y/n opened her eyes and found herself staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. She felt a dull ache in her chest and sighed deeply, hoisting herself up and rubbing her eyes groggily. Y/n swung her legs over the edge of her bed and looked down when her toes collided with something cold and smooth. She picked up a small, square object that laid beside her bed, recognizing it as an object she should’ve never taken out of the box in the attic to which it had been confined for months. 

It was a framed picture of David and her together. He was hugging her by the neck and planting a kiss on her temple. The Y/n of the picture smiled gleefully, her hands placed atop the musician’s. 

Y/n huffed and placed the picture inside a drawer next to her bed as the phone downstairs began ringing. She hurried down the stairs and plucked the annoying artifact from its base. 

“Yes?” she answered. The familiar voice of her brother sounded on the other side, especially cheerful. 

“Happy birthday!” he greeted, “Where are you? Are you at home? I’ve been ringing on your doorbell for ages!”

“Birthday?” she answered, furrowing her eyebrows. “Oh, right. Our birthday. I’m sorry, John. I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

She rushed to the mirror in her bathroom and stared at her face, didn’t liking at all what she saw. Her eyes and cheeks were noticeably red and puffy, and the last thing she needed was a concerned twin that tended to ask too many questions regarding her well-being. 

Y/n hastily threw some cold water on her face and patted her hair to make it look somewhat neat before hurrying downstairs and opening the door to find John standing before her. By the way the edges of his lips sunk when he laid eyes on her, she knew her efforts to look perfectly fine had been futile. Stupid twin intuition, she thought, stepping aside to let him in. They walked upstairs in silence and, right after she closed the door after him, John spoke. 

“Do you want to t–?” 

“I had a dream about him again,” Y/n snapped, folding her arms and sitting on the sofa. John thought that in that position she accurately resembled a pouting child. 

“Y/n…” John cooed sitting next to her, his arm placed comfortingly over her shoulders “Listen, I came to invite you to the studio. Me and the boys are recording a new song today, and I know how much you love to hear us play, and since it’s our birthday we could get lunch after...but if you don’t feel like going, I could ring them, tell them something came up, then we could go to Brixton and get some of those Cuban sweets you like so much…”

“Jamaican,” Y/n interjected with a soft smile, which her brother returned. 

“Jamaican sweets, then. How does that sound?” 

Y/n looked around the flat. That day it felt particularly small and stuffy, and no matter how much she wanted to stay in and spend the day in bed, she knew there was nothing that could lift her spirits more than sunlight, good music and the three boys she loved most in the whole world. 

Suddenly, the sound of a car honk blared through the window, followed by the unmistakable voice of Roger. 

“Come on, Deacons! Are you coming, or what?” 

Y/n giggled and shook her head before staring up at her twin.

“I thought you said you could ring them to reschedule,” 

“I might have decided to forget they were downstairs waiting in the car in favor of your well-being,”  

“Then I guess it would be extremely rude to keep them waiting, wouldn’t it?” 

Y/n said, keeping an exaggeratedly serious attitude. 

“Oh, absolutely. How shalt thou proceed?”  

He replied, making a funny nasal voice to accompany his parodic posh accent. Y/n laughed and threw her arms in the air as she walked back into her bedroom. 

“Alright, alright, you win. I’ll be ready in a bit.”

Y/n hummed as she wandered around the recording studio, carrying the notebook with the notes of the new song John was writing for the album. She flipped through the pages, admiring her brother’s messy handwriting, so typical of him when he was in a hurry. 

She loved the recording studio, and deeply appreciated the band’s willingness to let her tag along whenever she wanted. If it was up to her, Y/n would spend every single day with them at the studio, but she knew they needed space as a band and a Masters took up much more of her time than she expected. 

Thus, she was more than happy to sporadically join them and perform small tasks such as fetching things they had forgotten in the car, like the notebook she was holding in her hands. 

Reaching the door of the room in which they were recording, she grabbed the handle and walked in, her eyes still fixed on the pages. 

“John, here’s your notebook,” she announced, lifting her glance, “I’m serious, if your head wasn’t attached to your neck…”

Y/n froze in place, a cold shiver slowly sliding down her spine as her eyes fell upon the figure that sat on a chair, staring at the boys who were already inside the booth, discussing something among them. She slowly placed the notebook atop one of the speakers and silently walked backwards to avoid drawing attention to her, but it was too late. 

David’s blue eyes wandered to the side until they collided with Y/n’s, freezing him in place as well. Feeling her throat dry up, she couldn’t think of anything better to do other than making her escape through the doors and going back to the hallway, where she stared blankly at the wall before her as she tried to collect her thoughts. 

What the bloody hell is he doing here? she thought, fighting the urge to peek back inside to make sure he hadn’t followed her. 

It wasn’t necessary. Shortly after, Y/n heard steps headed towards the door. Without making sure it was even David, she quickly began walking down the hallway, trying to remember whether it led to the exit at all.

She felt cornered when she reached a dead end, seeing nothing but doors leading to empty studios around her, and the steps kept getting closer. For a short instant she considered the possibility of hiding inside one of the studios, but they were probably locked and it sounded much too childish anyway. 

She couldn’t keep running anymore. 

“Y/n?” The voice behind her spoke, making her stomach feel as if it was riding a roller coaster. She faked a composed smile and turned to face David as he approached her with slow, hesitant steps. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” 

“Hi,” she coolly greeted, “Yeah, I...I didn’t expect you to be here either. What are you doing here?” 

“I’ve been looking for you for months,” he interjected, ignoring her question with a pang of annoyance in his voice. She lifted her eyebrows with faux surprise. 

“Really? Oh, I’ve been quite busy. That’s just how things are sometimes, right?” 

However, the recognition she expected to find in his eyes wasn’t there, as if the words she had intentionally chosen meant nothing to him. Unbeknownst to her, the same moment she had been replaying in her mind over and over for the past months was exactly what he had in mind right then, trying to make any sense of what she was trying to say. 

It hadn’t been a nice day from the very beginning. Rainy, windy and cold. Both of them actually enjoyed that kind of day, but this one felt different. 

It probably was the fact that David’s reply to Y/n’s “I love you” before she left their shared flat was “See you,” or that the night before he had insisted on her going to bed so he could stay up working on the songs for his album, promising he would join her when he was done only for Y/n to find him sleeping on the couch in the morning. 

When her classes were over for the day, she went straight to the phone booth outside her college and dialed his number cheerfully. When he picked up, he sounded tired and even slightly irritated. 

“Who is it?” he dryly spoke. Y/n frowned, a little confused and decidedly hurt. 

“Hi love, it’s me,” she replied, hoping his tone would change when he realized it was his girlfriend calling. However, that wasn’t the case. 

“Oh, hi. What is it?” David answered. 

“Nothing, it’s just...I wanted to let you know that my last class was canceled, so I’ll be coming home earlier, alright?” 

“Yeah, fine. I’ll see you here,” he replied. However, Y/n didn’t hang up. 

“Wait, I was thinking, maybe we could go out and have dinner together? They opened a new place downtown and it seems lovely.” 

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” 

Y/n blinked, still confused. Had she done or said anything wrong? Why did he sound so bitter? 

“Is it not what you want?” She tentatively asked, still maintaining a happy disposition towards him despite his attitude. 

“No, it's fine. Listen Y/n, I’m a little busy at the moment, we’ll talk about it when you come home, okay? See you later,” 

“Yes, fine. I’ll see you later, I lo–”

But he had already hung up. She sighed and exited the booth, gloomily realizing that had been the second unanswered “I love you,” of the day, something that was becoming more and more frequent. 

When she arrived at their flat, Y/n slid the keys inside the lock and turned them as quietly as she could, slowly swinging the door open.

As she made her way through the flat, Y/n could hear David’s voice in the kitchen, somewhat muffled by the whistle of the kettle. 

“...I know, I know,” he spoke, sounding tired. A pause followed before he spoke again. 

“I just want one hour, Lou,” he snapped, “One bloody hour to work properly with no distractions and not having to worry about being an arse to her,” 

He must be at the phone, Y/n thought as she moved closer. 

Y/n stopped on her tracks and covertly stood next to the kitchen door. When David said “her” was he referring to his girlfriend? Was he considering her a distraction to his work? Of course she had noticed he was feeling a lot of stress from the new album, but didn’t think her efforts to relieve him of some of that pressure were unwanted. Perhaps she had unknowingly crossed some boundary? 

“I know she does, and I didn't mind it at first, but...I just can’t stand her sometimes, and I feel like shit about it. Maybe...I don’t know, lately I’ve been wondering whether it’s time to call things off. She’s doing her best, I know she is, but I refuse to put up with it anymore.” 

By that point, Y/n had to clamp her hand over her mouth to muffle the strangled sob that began to build up down her throat. She wished more than ever that her last class hadn’t been canceled, that she was far away from there, sitting before her desk without even suspecting that the love of her life was planning on getting rid of such a “distraction”. She was completely taken aback. The hurtful way in which he was referring to her, even cold-heartedly, didn’t sound like the David she had met and fallen in love with. She would have bet on her life he would never talk about her like that. 

“Yeah, it’s a pity, I did like her, you know? But now I hear her come in and I honestly want to jump out of the window,” Then David laughed. He dismissively talked about breaking things off with her and laughed about it. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and Y/n’s heart as well. “Anyway, that’s the way things are sometimes. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

Y/n didn’t intend to stay and listen for not even one more lousy minute. It took her two seconds to realize she didn’t have the strength to face him. Just standing in the flat, staring at the walls that had witnessed so many hours of their relationship made her sick. 

As silently as she had arrived, but with tears in her eyes and a sharp pain bolting relentlessly through her chest, Y/n slipped out the door and rushed down the street, unsure of where she would go next or what she would do. She only knew that she wanted to be as far away from David as she could.

But apparently, the universe had other plans. The man she had spent months avoiding was now standing before her, looking hurt and confused as he opened his mouth to speak. 

“I need to talk to you,” 

“I think it’s too late for that,” Y/n cut him off, “because I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Exactly,” David replied, “What happened? One day you went to college as always and never came back, you changed your phone number, nobody will tell me where you have been living, where did you go, and most importantly, you didn’t even tell me why you left in the first place.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows and blinked, feeling extremely confused. 

“Are you serious?” she asked, “I heard your phone call with Lou, David. I heard everything you said about me being a distraction, and how you couldn’t stand me anymore, and how you wanted to jump through the fucking window every time you heard me come home. And I tried to spare us the whole breakup speech by just leaving, but if you want to talk about it fine, let’s talk about it.” 

David just stood and stared at her, not even a trace of guilt dashed over his face, just utter confusion until his eyes went wide and his mouth broke into a relieved grin, his hand pressed against his forehead. 

“Oh my god,” he said and began chuckling nervously, “I can’t...oh god.”

“What’s so funny?” Y/n exclaimed, not deciding on whether she should feel hurt, insulted or just as perplexed as he did seconds before. 

“Y/n...that call was not about you at all.” 

“What?” 

“How could you have even conceived I’d say such things about you? I was talking about Miranda, the assistant I had been working with for two months,” 

Y/n just moved her mouth a couple of times as if she wanted to say something, but her mind was a complete blank, her brain struggling to order her thoughts and give them some logic, replaying the conversation in her mind. Since she did not speak, David took this as a sign to continue his explanation. 

“She was a fan of mine but I didn’t mind it at first, because it did not interfere with her job. But eventually she began flirting with me until it became unbelievably annoying and I decided to fire her, although I did feel pretty bad about it because she was a nice girl, I just couldn’t ignore it anymore.” 

“But…” Y/n murmured, still unsure. “They way you acted towards me before, like...like you didn’t want me around at all.” 

David’s eyes saddened at that statement, and the guilt that had been missing from his face suddenly appeared as he nodded. 

“That I did and it is completely my fault. The deadline for the album was around the corner, I was struggling with my writing, and I made the terrible mistake of taking all that frustration out on you, and you can’t imagine how sorry I am, darling. It didn’t dawn on me how unfair I was and how horrible you must have felt until I found myself alone in that flat and realized you weren’t coming back.”

David pressed his lips together and sighed deeply before slowly making his way towards her, lingeringly wrapping his hands around hers.  

“I guess what I’m trying to say, Y/n, is that I’ve terribly missed you. I was angry at you for leaving without an explanation, and so I didn’t even try to find you. By the time I realized I loved you too much to let my pride get the best of me, you were already gone. And if you let me, I promise I will fix that.” 

“David,” Y/n replied with a sigh, “I don’t know. I would love to believe all of that is true just like that...but somehow…” 

“You find it hard to trust me,” David finished for her. After all, he was still capable of reading her mind so easily. She bit her lip and nodded, tears threatening to fall from her eyes as she blinked. 

“I’ll need some time to think about it, okay?” she said, putting her hand against this cheek with a gentle smile before clearing her throat and making her way around him to head back to the studio. 

However, before she could take two steps, his voice stopped her. 

“A Love Supreme.” he stated, turning to face her, his face full of a new resolution. “The day we met you told me the only Coltrane album you were missing was A Love Supreme, and I didn’t forget, do you want to know why I never mentioned it again?” 

“David,” Y/n began to say, only to be immediately silenced by him.

“No, no, let me finish. I didn’t forget, and the only reason why I never gave it to you was because I didn’t want to give you just another album. I spent months looking for something way better than that, something that lived up to what you deserve. And one month before you left, I found it. It was an unopened record signed by Coltrane himself, and I was saving it for your birthday, for today, as fate would have it. And I never got rid of it, I still have it after all these months just in case…” his voice faltered, and Y/n could see how his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes she was still infatuated with no matter how strongly she tried to deny it, turned glassy, prompting David to clear his throat. “Just in case you ever came back. And I’m still waiting and if I don’t walk out of here with you today, I will keep waiting.”

Y/n stared at him, scanning every inch of his face, until her eyes stopped when they met his. Slowly, she made her way back towards him and, in a contrastingly sudden movement, cupped his cheeks in her hands and pulled his face towards her to press a soft kiss to his lips. Yet, it did not remain that way for long as David slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer almost desperately, his lips leaving hers to meet her cheeks, forehead, nose and finally her mouth once again. 

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he said, his voice hoarse as a relieved but unsure smile tugged at the edge of his lips. 

Y/n could only nod as she smiled back at him, her thumb softly caressing his cheek. 

“I swear to god Bowie, if you ever treat me that way again, I will shove my foot so far up your–”

“I won’t, I promise,” he quickly assured, pecking her lips hastily, “Do you have any idea of how insufferable it was to live without somebody to bring me coffee while I worked?” 

Y/n punched his arm jokingly, but couldn’t hold back a gleeful snicker as they made their way back to the studio, their fingers almost instinctively intertwined, and the world significantly brighter than it was when they woke up.

Epilogue

“So…” Y/n heard a voice behind her as she helped put the instruments back in their cases. “...is everything sorted out?” 

She turned around to find her twin fondly smiling at her. 

“It is. Isn’t it great that he happened to be around the studio?” she said, noticing a sheet of paper lying on the floor besides one of the speakers. Y/n picked it up and began reading it when she noticed it was a draft of a song. 

“Under Pressure, with…” she lifted her head and stared at her brother, her eyes wide in realization. “You knew he’d be here. John Richard Deacon, did you deliberately ask me to come because you knew he’d be here?” 

John’s face was pale. He obviously didn’t intend Y/n to find out like that. He probably had in mind something more subtle, like casually mentioning it to her at lunch later that day, or back at her flat. 

“Look, I can explain,” he stuttered. “The first time you told me how everything happened, I couldn’t help but wonder why you didn’t even give the lad a chance to explain himself. Because you were right, I had to put up with your babbling about all the wonderful things he said to you for ages, and it did not sound like him. But you’re a very proud and stubborn person, Y/n. I love you, but you know it’s true. And I knew you wouldn’t do it without...well, some help. What can I say? I saw the chance and I took it.”

“Then why didn't you just give him my new address?” she inquired. 

“Because if despite everything you still wanted him to stay away, your address would remain a secret.”

“Johnny, you absolute genius!” Y/n exclaimed, throwing her arms around her twin brother's neck and hugging him tightly, “Thank you. For everything.” 

“Come on, what are twins for? Now, you go and have fun with him. It’s your birthday.” 

“But I don’t want you or the boys to feel as if I ditched you,” Y/n said, a worried look on her face. John chuckled and shook his head with a shrug.

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” Freddie’s voice said from behind them as the singer walked by. “you have many, many birthdays left to spend with this bunch of old ladies, we can get lunch tomorrow. Now go.”

Y/n stared at him baffled, but before she could question anything, Brian looked at her, one of his eyebrows lifted. 

“Of course we all knew of Deacy’s plan. Roger just lost money on this.” 

“I didn’t lose shit!” Roger exclaimed, sulking out of the recording booth, “I said she would tell him to give her time to think about it, I never said she would reject him.” 

Y/n looked fondly at the boys and shook her head. They truly were incorrigible. After gifting them with one last excited smile, she ran outside to meet the man she did not wish to be parted from ever again. 

[bohemiansweede]

First time...

In Santa's lap

Ch 2

Fanfic

Pairing Roger Taylor Reader

Warnings Smut 🔞

A/N Rogers POV Part 2 of the series (part 1 is posted below) Please like and comment or reblog if you like

When you read part 2

Listen to this

🥂 🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂

I hide away in the studio almost the whole December, I had to keep my head busy with other things than... Her

There she was again

Shit..

I flipped over the cymbals with a loud *CRASH*, John looked up and I shrugged a bit and lit up a cigarette

- Hey man, what's is all the fuss about?

- Nothing John.. I'm fine.

- You are a terrible liar.. You know that?

He joined me on the drumrisers and took up his own cigarettes

- You still think about her.. Right?

- Yeah.. I do.. I was a moron, an idiot.. A complete dick.. Fuck.. She was so beautiful, amazing.. so different, so..

- She is back in London Roger, did you know?

I almost fell of my chair

- What?, Since when?.. Omg.. I have to see her

- Roger.. I don’t think..

- What? I haven't t even looked after a girl since then, not even the groupies at the Christmas gig, all I can think of is her

John looked at me as if I was from an other planet, he shook his head

- You sure you are ready to be serious Roger, she is not that kind of girl you play with

-.. I'm... Yes.. I want her.. I wanted her back that evening too but.. Omg.. I screwed up

- I don't think she is so keen on meeting you, but me and Veronica can maybe luer her into something.. But Roger.. It is something you need to know

My eyes widened, I could only hear his words ringing in my head

"she is back.. I can see her.. a ..."

- She is pregnant Roger ..you hear me?

- What?.. I immediately bounced back to earth, a..am I.. going to be a dad?

Tears fell down on my cheeks

I looked on my own hands, fiddled with my drumsticks, almost whispering

- I have to see her, I want her more than ever

The upcoming week passed by slowly

The day was here, I had kicked out Brian to be with Chrissie

I was so fuckin nervous, I told myself out loud.. I'm going to show her.. that I'm not just a player.. that I'm serious, that she can trust me

I went back and forth in my kitchen, shit.. She is soon here

Shit... The owen!!!

I looked inside, it wasn't ruined

*phew*

I lighted a few more candles and corrected the flowers in the vase

*doorbell*

I was suddenly wide awake

I went out in the hallway and opened the door

There she was, even more beautiful than I remembered, in a fur coat, a cute scarf and her red blushed cheeks from the cold, her mouth, slightly open..

She looked at me with big eyes, we were both like frozen to the ground

- Y/N... Hi... You came, I showed her inside, come in.. Its cold

She just nodded quietly

I helped her off with the coat

I saw the back of her, a cute dark blue dress, her hair in a messy bun, her neck..

She turned around

- I'm ready to hear you out.. To give you a chance to explain.. But I'm not.. I'm disappointed.. Not just you.. But at myself to letting me..

- Hey... Look.., I stuttered and shook my head, please.. Please come in.. Are you hungry?

She followed me out in the kitchen

I saw her looking at the table, the roses, the candles..

I smiled at her

Saw a little smile in the corner of her mouth

- I guess that I was right then, please sit

I pulled out her chair

- I bought non alcoholic wine.. I

She sat down and started to cry heavily

I held around her tense shoulders and kissed her temple, she leaned her face onto my chest

- I... I'm so sorry Roger.. I can have.. have it removed

I looked at her

- No.. No.. Don't even think about that.. NO.. I want you, both of you

I placed my hand on her belly, I'm serious

I took away a tear with my thumb

- Are you sure about that.. I mean..

- I'm sure, even more now. I have only thought about you since that day, I.. I fell in love with you that night Y/N... Thoose other girls there and at the concerts, they don't mean anything, please give me a chance.. Please.. I

She turned her head and looked up at me

Placed a kiss carefully at my lips

Nodded

- Ok... IF we eat first, it smells delicious and I'm starving

She let out a soft giggle

I kissed her nose and stood up

Took her plate and served up the food from the stove

I turned around and smiled at her

She was here

I placed the plates on the table and poured up wine for both of us

She ate and drank with big apetite

It became easier and easier to talk, we talked about just everything really

We got to know each other, we laughed a lot and I saw in her eyes that she started to maybe feel the same

-.. So.. when I saw you Y/N, I knew what I wanted, but I became shy and tried to cover that shyness with being my cocky self

I'm so sorry for that, I should have run after you

- I know Roger, John told me a little and Veronica.. She comforted me that night, just before I left. She knew..

- Yeah.. John wasn't happy with me.. Neither of them were, at least myself

I took down the last wine

She smiled at me

- You don't have to drink non alcoholic wine because of me

- It was actually quite good.. besides, I want to remember this evening, more wine?.. Dessert?

- Ehhhmm... In a bit... I... mmmm

I stod up and took her hand

She followed me out in the living room

I had prepared a vinyl already and soon Joe Cockers hoarse voice streamed out

I walked towards her and took her in my arms, kissed her cheek and felt her arms closing around my shoulders

I pulled away a little, just looked at her

- I have to agree with him.. "You are so beautiful", I leaned down a little and kissed her, just tasting her lips carefully

She pulled me closer and deepened the kiss, I smiled while we kissed

We just stod like that, holding each other until the song ended

Without a word she took my hand and started to walk, I followed her to my room and she closed the door behind us

- Hunnie.. we don't...

- Ssssccchhhh... She pulled down the straps on her dress and let it fall down

I just couldn't stop staring at her

The moonlight made her skin shimmer like diamonds

I reached out my hand.. slowly.. touched her arm, I let my eyes wander up and down her body

- I'm not made of glass Roger.. You can touch me

She closed the gap between us and I felt the heat from her body

She opened the buttons on my shirt one by one

She giggled a little when her fingers didn't follow her mind

I kissed her passionately while helping her

Her stiff nipples brushed against my chest

- Ohhh God hunnie...

We backed further into the room and when she had the bed behind her I made a little push so she bounced on the mattress

She bit her lip and crawled up in bed

I leaned down and kissed her again and again and again

Continued my kisses down her neck, nibbling on her soft skin

Closed my lips around her nipple and heard her breathing getting more intense

I looked up at her while kissing her burning skin, I stopped a little and leaned my cheek on her belly as if I was listening, I placed a kiss on it and whispered, I can't wait to meet you, our unborn child

She smiled at me and held around my head, she slightly pushed me down

I bit my lip and pulled down her underwear while kissing her hips, her thighs, her innerthighs

She opened up under me and I gasped for air, she was just so amazingly beautiful

I seperated her folds with my tounge, dragged it slowly up and down, I circled it around her clit and her soft moans sounded like music to my ears

I closed my lips around her clit and licked faster, my finger started to slowly entering her

She bucked up her hips and whined a little

I stopped

- Are you alright?

- Yes... Ohhh yes.. Omg.. Don't stop Roger

I let out a breathy laugh and started to eat her out more intense, I added a finger and curled them over her spot

I rubbed it over and over

Not long after I felt her walls collapsing around my fingers

I kept fucking her wet pussy her intire orgasm

My tounge replaced the fingers I pushed it deep inside her, drinking all her sweet nectar, I kept moving my tounge in and out, around and around, my thumb circeled her clit

- Mmmm.. Hunnie.. You are amazing

My tounge found her spot, it kept on nudging it, her thighs clenched around my neck and seconds after she scuirted down my throat

- Ops... She looked down at me with a big smile

I simply couldn't resist her so I crawled back up and kissed her

My cock teased her entrance and my eyes locked with hers

- I love you.. You know that

- Ohh God Roger.. I love you too

Slowly I entered her and we became one

We rolled out hips together in unison, I held around her hips, moving in and out of her

I kissed down her neck and moaned in her ear

My hips thrusted faster and faster

I gripped the headboard and and snapped my hips even more, but not too deep

We kissed again and she moaned into my mouth

I felt she became tighter and I held her close

- Shit love .. I'm coming

- Ohhhh... OHHHH ROGER

I flushed my seed inside her and her contractions squeezed the last drops

I fell to the side in bed, pulling her with me, still inside of her

She had her head on my chest and I pulled her closer

It was silent

All we heart was a little whining wind and the clock on my nightstand

It was after midnight, it was new years eve

I smiled a little to myself

- Y/N..?.. I... I was going to wait until tonight, but.. I cannot hold myself any longer

I pulled out the drawer and took out a box, placed in between us

- This is the last day of the year, and last day I was alone, I want to be with you.. Both of you.. Forever

.... Marry me

💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍

Enjoy more reading in my masterlist

Thank you and Happy New year 🎉

[jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels]

Don’t You Hear My Call Though You’re Many Years Away - Chapter 15

Not my gif.

A/N: Thank y’all for understanding about the hold up on this chapter. It’s time for John and Y/N to spend some down time together. Enjoy!

John kept his word, he didn’t let me out of his sight in the days that followed. And while he did ask questions daily, they became less about the band and more about me, my life and the world I lived in.

Time passed even more quickly, and before I knew it, we were only days away from their first show. The moment I had traveled back for was rapidly approaching and while I was excited, sadness tinged the moment.

John finally had a day off from practice since everyone else was working, and he I were spending it at the flat he shared with the others.

He had been full of questions since the night he came back after finding out the truth, that I was a “time traveler” as he liked to put it. Although hearing him say that felt strange, no matter how true it was, I wasn’t sure I’d even be comfortable with that term. But we made a game of it, every question he asked, I asked one in return.

“Does it ever thunder here?” I asked loudly, as I heard John making his way up the stairs. I continued to stare out the window, watching the rain slide down the glass.

“Not often” He answered from the doorway “does it where you’re from?” He asked, stepping closer to the bed where I was sitting up, clutching the sheets to my bare chest as he handed me a cup of tea.

“Yeah” I replied, moving to take the cup from him “thank you. We get some vicious storms back home.”

“My turn” he said crawling under the sheets with me, after ridding himself of his jeans, before he spoke again “your clothes, styles can’t be the same, can they?”

I almost choked on my tea as I laughed “oh no! No, they’ve changed. Remember the photo of my friends and me?”

He nodded before taking another sip. He really could make a great cuppa. I was finally picking up on his verbiage.

“Then where did you find them?” He asked.

“A vintage store” I replied. I had to bite my cheek to stop from giggling as his face dropped.

“A what? Vintage?” He mumbled. I nodded, tried to hide my smile as I tucked my chin into my naked shoulder. Giggles slipping past my lips.

“So my clothes are considered...vintage in your time?” I asked distastefully.

“Yes, but that’s not a bad thing” I begin, leaning into him, “vintage clothes are considered stylish, some of them cost more than all of the clothes I own collectively. And something worn by the one and only John Deacon would fetch a pretty penny from collectors.”

A small smile spread across his lips as he spoke, “I’d only care if it were you buying them, so you could wear them.”

Quickly he placed both of our cups on the night stand, before he kissed me deeply, pulling my flush against him. Skin to skin.

Reluctantly I pulled away as he slowly drug his finger tips up and down my back.

“You want me to wear your clothes?” I asked, cuddling closer to him.

“Yes. It would be incredibly sexy” he mumbled before kissing the top of my head.

“Guess we’ll have to test that theory, huh?” I asked peeking up at him.

“I plan on it” he nodded in agreement, “but you look sexy in anything. And out of them too.”

I felt my cheeks burn at his compliment as I tried to burrow closer to him to hide my face, causing him to laugh.

“My turn” I said, my fingers mindlessly tracing patterns on his chest and stomach, “are you nervous about the show?”

He took a deep breath before he spoke, “yes, but not about the show itself, because obviously something must go right. I’m nervous about where this is all leading. I know I’m on the train now, but how fast will it go, and how long of a ride will it be?”

He paused, taking another breath as he collected his thoughts.

“I’m not saying I want you to tell me details, but the first show goes well doesn’t it?” He asked finally.

“I’m not exactly sure” I admit “I’ve never found much written about it. Even if things don’t seem to go as planned, it’s not the end of it.”

“That’s what makes me nervous, the knowing but not knowing it all” he replied softly.

Guilted churned in my gut as I wrapped my arms around him, he returned the gesture.

“I’m sorry” I whispered.

“Don’t be, Sweetheart. Please don’t be.” He tucked my hair behind my ear, before gently hooking his finger under my chin, pulling my face to his.

“I’d rather know exactly where you’re going than spend my life wondering how you could just disappear. I’ll find out about my life in the time frame I should. I’m still very curious. That’s all.” He spoke gently as he looked me in the eyes. The guilt would always be there, as it had been for awhile, it simply liked to kick me every now and then.

He gave me a quick kissed before he spoke again, “my turn.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little “alright.”

“What do you plan to tell you friends when you get back?” He asked, concern flashing in his eyes, as his knuckles skimmed down my arm.

There was a heavy paused as I pressed my lips together, it was my turn to think things over.

“I don’t intend to lie. I’ll tell them the truth, about us, and the fact that I told you where I am from” I replied “I’m not sure how, or even when, I’ll tell them.”

“Are you concerned they’ll be mad?” He asked as he hugged me tighter, already trying to protect me from something that hadn’t occurred yet.

“Definitely” I said without hesitation. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that a few of them would be angry.

“I’m sorry” John mumbled, his lips pressed into my hair.

“No need to apologize.” I quipped “I’ve made my bed, and eventually I’ll have to lie in it.”

I could feel his head nod slightly against mine. The heaviness of our conversation was beginning to weigh on both of us. I had to break its spell.

“But for now” I said as I slowly slid one leg over his waist, pulling myself up as I straddled him. “I’d much rather focus on being in this bed. With you. Naked.”

I drug my hands down his chest as he grinned up at me. I leaned forward slowly, letting my hair fall around our faces.

“Naughty” he whispered as my lips hovered over his.

“Absolutely” I said, returning his expression before meeting his lips with mine.

@queensdivas @liliah39 @leah-halliwell92 @painkiller80 @painandpleasure86 @deakys-chesthair @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @heybuddy-drabbles @queenwouldyourathers @mirkwoodshewolf @ixchel-9275 @johndeaconstoothgap @brinteylovesaliens @deakysmisfire @thosequeenboys @tryin-her-best @deacyspatronusisacheesetoastie @johndeaconshands @apailana @cowparsleys @januarycolor @madamsixx @amethyst-serenade @hellysthings @deakysgurl @deacydarling @bus-jackson

[johnricharddeacy]

Roger Meddows Taylor is the most good looking man in the world and you can’t change my mind.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Final Destination; AU Ghost! Queen x teen reader

*Author’s note*

Here is the final part of my Ghost AU fic trilogy. Now there is a LOT of action that happens here so you all better buckle up. Also the TRUTH finally gets revealed about what happened to the boys when they died. I want to thank you all for giving this 3 part fic a chance and for wanting to see a sequel to the original fic, and for you all being such good sports I delivered a 3 parter for the fic Legend of the Band.

Warning: Murder (VERY DESCRIPTIVE DETAILS but that’s not till close to the end), demons, fluff, angst, raging ghosts, Heaven and Hell mentioned. 

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@platawnic​

@eileen-crys​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queendeakyy​

@queensdivas​

@kairosfreddie​

@geek-and-proud​

_____________________________________________________________

Veronica slowly woke up from her sleep and the first thing she felt was the cold wind blowing against her night gown.  She slowly opened her eyes and slowly stood up confused about her surroundings.  Last thing she remembered was being in the hospital recovering from her scare, and now she’s outside.  As she stood up and walked backwards trying to see just where she was at, she got another start as she nearly fell 65m (213ft) to her death. She quickly backed up and she began to realize that she was on the Tower bridge

The very peek of the tower bridge to be exact.

The lights from the bridge lit up the road as she could see cars driving along the bridge going either way.

But Veronica was more scared cause she couldn’t remember how she got up here, or even why she would be up there in the first place?  She would get her answer when someone came flying across the sky.  A demon to be exact, but it wasn’t just any demon.  It had been the demon that Constantine had warned (Y/n) about, Beelzebub.

His fly-like wings making that loud, haunting buzzing sound that sounded like a swarm of flies.  He flew over the bridge and took out his large hunting bow as well as an arrow from his quiver.

“Time to give this town a little more light.” He notched the arrow into the bow and soon the arrow tip lit up in Hellfire. He kept his eye on one car in particular that happened to be driving by.

It was Robert’s car.  And inside it was Robert and (Y/n) heading home after visiting Veronica.

Beelzebub grinned maliciously as he released the arrow right at Robert’s car.  When it hit close to the back tire of the car, there was a sudden explosion that sent the car spiraling out of control.

Robert and (Y/n) screamed as Robert tried to regain control of his car.  But all that did was cause them to go halfway off the bridge.  The car slowly rocking forward and back.

About 3 miles away from the tower, John Deacon (with the help of Constantine) hovered over the roof of a building just in time to see the explosion.

“Oh god please no.” he softly pleaded.

Finally waking up from their whiplash, Robert and (Y/n) groaned and Robert turned to his daughter and said.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so.” The car soon lurched forward. (Y/n) shrieked and held onto her dad’s hand.  In his mind, Robert knew that there wasn’t enough time for him to save his daughter and get her out first before this car decided to plummet into the Thames.  So as he felt the car dip again, he grabbed his baby girl tightly and soon the car began to fall towards the Thames.

(Y/n) gripped onto her dad as tightly as she could, both of them preparing for their untimely death.  But as they got halfway, something stopped them.  (Y/n) opened her eyes and saw that they were now just hanging on mid-drop.  But both her and her father could hear the sound of buzzing.

It was then they looked up and they could see Beelzebub holding some kind of rope which held the car in play.  He then flew upwards towards the very top of the Tower bridge, all the while Robert kept holding onto his daughter as tightly as he could.

As quick as he could, John teleported towards the bridge.  But with not having enough distance practice out in the ranch, he would only come up about a couple rooftops at best.  But somehow with one last teleportation attempt, he stood right on top of the bridge however he was greeted with the worst sight he could possibly imagine.

Beelzebub stood a foot away from one end of the bridge. In his left hand he held a panicked Veronica by the throat, and in the other, the lifeline which held Robert’s car.

“John Richard Deacon. This is why only fools choose to stay on Earth. Because you never know when some celestial being, Demon or Angel, will come along with a difficult choice.” John stood there in horror as he watched his beloved scream in terror. “Let thy first and only wife die?”

Veronica’s slippers fell right off her feet as he raised her just a bit higher over the street.  All the while poor Veronica screaming and crying her eyes out.

“Or…..have thy kin perish before the mother and grandmother?” Beelzebub continued to mock as he now turned towards John’s son and granddaughter.

Inside the car, Robert continued to try and comfort his daughter who was weeping.  But when she looked out the cracked window she could see her grandfather’s spirit.

“Grandpa? Grandfather! Grandpa John please don’t let him kill us please!” Robert tried to keep his daughter calm but when he too looked out to where she was looking, he saw something he thought he’d never see.

He recognized this spirit from the pictures his mum showed him growing up.  He knew right away even with him being a black spirit, this was the ghost of his father.

“It can’t be.”

“Make your choice John Deacon, and see how a family man is rewarded.” Beelzebub said to John.

“Leave them out of this Beelzebub!”

“The matters of life and death can never meet. Now choose!” it was then he let both the rope and Veronica go.

“NO!!” John screamed.

How could he choose which one to save? If he saved the son he never met and the granddaughter he had come to love, he’d be risking and he would have to force them both to lose Veronica.  And it’d be a double hitter for Robert cause now he’ll have lost both his parents to horrific accidents.

But if he saved Veronica, she’d have to live with the fact that her one and only son and granddaughter had to die a watery death.  John couldn’t bare to have Veronica lose her only 2 babies, she was born to be a mother and grandmother.  And losing both Robert and (Y/n) would be devastating after all that she’s been through with the loss of him.

Finally John made his choice.  He flew down towards the left and quickly grabbed Veronica. Once he had her, he quickly flew towards the other side of the bridge and grabbed the rope holding his son’s car. As all four Deacons dove towards the sea, John used his psychic powers to keep the car levitating midair and he continued to hold onto the rope.  Veronica continued to scream and shriek as she clung onto the spirit of her husband and already John was feeling his mental grip on the car starting to fade.

From above, Beelzebub stood on the tower glaring and let out a hiss.

“Foolish soul.”

Thankfully for the Deacons, a barge boat was just about a half mile away from them.  A spotlight shined on them and soon a voice called out from the speakers.

“Ah-hoy up there! We’re gonna bring the barge right under you!” But soon the thousand fly wing flaps of Beelzebub was heard as he began circling around them.

“HE’S COMING BACK!” Veronica screamed in horror.

“Veronica listen, I need you to climb down to Robert and (Y/n).” John told her.

“I can’t!” Veronica sobbed.

“Yes you can.” John urged her.  His mental grip began to slip and soon they dropped about 4 inches from their normal position.  Veronica screamed till John took back his grip and continued to hold the car. “Ronnie please! Our babies need you! Please.” She looked up and even through the pure black eyes, Veronica recognized the love he once had when he found out all those years ago that he would become a father.

Veronica sniffled and let out a soft whimper as she began to climb down John.  He moved her closer to the rope so that she could have an easier transition and he told her.

“Hold on tight. And go as quick as you can!” Veronica got a good grip on the rope and slid down just an inch before freezing up at the height she was looking down at.  As Beelzebub flew closer and closer to them, John looked down at Veronica and said.

“Hurry!”

“I can’t! I’m too scared!”

“Just look right up at me Ronnie! You can do it!” suddenly John was stabbed right in the back with Beelzebub’s iron staff. And due to it being Iron, John’s spirit began to glitch up which caused his psychic hold on the car to collapse and he only had his physical grip on the rope.  As John got stabbed, it forced the car to swing sharply to the left which caused Veronica to swing along with the rope, almost losing her grip.

She held on as tight as she could as she tried to go down the rope even more as her husband told her too.  Once John was fully manifested again, he gripped the rope with both hands now but as he turned around he saw Beelzebub flying right in front of him.  His staff raised and this time instead of a single stab, he thrusted his staff into John’s chest which caused him to glitch again.

But also made him release his grip on the rope.

When his focus went back to the rope, he took hold of the staff and removed it from his body and reached out towards the rope. The second he grabbed the rope, Veronica lost her grip of the rope and went plummeting down towards the sea. But she was soon caught by her own son (who had taken advantage of his broken window).

Robert held on tight to his mother as both him and (Y/n) both worked together to try and pull her inside.  John who was trying so hard to keep a grip on the rope, but it was slowly sliding off inch by inch and the barge still wasn’t close enough to the car.

Inside the car, (Y/n) looked up towards her grandfather praying and hoping that he could hang in there just a little longer.

“Enough games. This ends now!” Beelzebub soon revealed a reaper’s scythe and flew right towards John.  Knowing that with just one swipe of this, John’s soul would pass on and he could finally be rid of all the Deacons.

John’s eyes widened but just before Beelzebub could even swing the scythe, suddenly a sonic guitar sound shot right at him, stirring him away from John.

“Up here coward!” Beelzebub and John both looked up and there levitating in the air was Constantine.  In his hand he held Brian’s red special but it was his eyes that caught the demon’s attention.  They were pure white.

“So the rest of the band has come at last? And I see you’ve used a meat suit.”

“Call it an equal partnership.” Brian’s voice spoke through Constantine.  His eyes then turned from white to blue as Roger’s voice then spoke up.

“But don’t think this’ll be a simple meet and greet. You mess with John Deacon, you mess with us!”

“In fact; you mess with one Queen, you mess with all of us Queen’s!” Freddie’s voice soon said as Constantine’s eyes once again changed from blue to yellow.  After tuning the Red special his eyes once again shifted back to white as he let out another sonic guitar riff which sent another ghostly wave right at Beelzebub, distracting him long enough so that John could save his family.

Finally John began to slowly lower the rope down and finally the car landed safely on top of the barge.

The crew on the barge quickly ran towards the car and helped (Y/n) out first before helping Veronica and finally bringing Robert out of the beat up car.

From above, John released the rope and looked down at his family, relieved that they were safe and sound.

*My POV*

After the crew on the barge asked if we were okay or hurt I looked up towards my granddad and smiled up at him.

“So this is what you’ve been up to?” my dad asked. I nodded.

“Yeah. I got to finally meet granddad and his friends.”

“I just—I can’t believe it’s really him.” He said in awe.

“Believe it my boy. He may not look how he once was, but only one man has ever made me feel that safe in any situation.” Nana said as she came up to us.

Suddenly I noticed that the demon Beelzebub was now flying right back towards grandad and it looked like he had iron chains to use as a rope.

“GRANDDAD WATCH OUT!!!” I cried out but it was too late. We watched in horror as the chains went around his throat and he was now being flown across the sky to god knows where with an iron chain around his throat.  Constantine flew right over towards us and I asked him. “Where did that demon take him?”

“They’re heading for the Tower hamlets cemetery.” Roger’s voice spoke out of him.

“Wait…..Roger?” Nana asked.  Constantine smiled and Roger spoke through him.

“Hey Ronnie, been a long time eh?” I then saw his eyes change from blue to yellow as Freddie now took over.

“Don’t worry, leave this to us Ronnie dear.”

“I’m coming too!” I proclaimed.

“Absolutely out of the question!” dad exclaimed.

“You better listen to your dad on this one love.” Constantine’s true voice soon spoke up. “I told you, I don’t let normal humans get in too deep with what I do. And you’re already deep enough as it is. Stay with your nana and father and get somewhere safe.”

“If I’m already this deep in then let me go in all the way! That’s my grandfather out there and he’s in danger! I refuse to lose him just when I STARTED TO GET TO KNOW HIM!!!!” my voice steadily got louder till I screamed at him.  My breathing became sharp and heavy as my eyes flickered with tears. “Now take me with you.”

“Why must women always be so stubborn?” he muttered.

“Welcome to our world Johnny boy.” Roger soon spoke up. His eyes then shifted from blue to white as Brian’s voice said.

“It could be dangerous (Y/n), are you sure?”

“Please Brian. If you got the chance to meet your granddad, would you want him to suddenly be taken away from you by some demon bastard?” He looked down then extended out Constantine’s hand.

“Don’t let go no matter what. This won’t be like back on the farm.” I took his hand when my dad said to me one more time.

“(Y/n)—”

“Dad please. If you were my age you’d—you’d do the same thing.” He walked towards me and for the first time in years, he actually gave me a proper hug.

“Just be careful sweetheart.” I leaned my head against his chest and promised him that I would.  After he separated from me, Constantine and I flew up to the sky and headed towards the Tower hamlets cemetery park.

*3rd Person POV*

At the cemetery, Beelzebub flew John over the vast forest and graves till they came up onto a small tomb.  Then like a whip, he threw John right through the tomb.

John tried to keep himself a float but due to the iron stabs he took and his psychic powers still on the fritz, all he could do was phase through the walls till he finally landed on the ground with thump and a roll.  He let out a groan as he slowly tried to stand up.

“Misery, pain, and suffering. That’s what you and your friends have chosen.” Beelzebub’s voice soon spoke up.  He looked up and he saw the fly demon standing right before him. John weakly stood up as Beelzebub continued on. “I offer you a choice, and you still cling to your mortal life.”

The fly demon grabbed John’s arm and twisted it before punching him straight in the chest.  He then did an uppercut before doing a right hook right into John’s face.

John panted breathlessly and wasn’t prepared for the iron staff to suddenly knock him right off of his feet sending him flying out of the tomb back out into the open graveyard.

Beelzebub soon flew up in the air with the staff raised high above his head, almost like he was ready to smite a dragon.  Quickly thinking John phased through the ground which left Beelzebub to stab his sword into nothing but grass and dirt.

John silently appeared a few feet behind him and put his arms parallel of each other which sent a strong air current over Beelzebub, forcing him to flip around till he landed on his side.  Next, John’s began to move in an elegant manner (think of Scarlet Witch) as the next thing Beelzebub knew, he was being wrapped up in vines and weeds.

It didn’t hold him much longer cause the next thing John saw was that his fly-like wings, snapped his bounds off of him and he now turned towards John.  He charged right at the ghost and the two of them began a close hand to hand combat.

John kept his guard up and mostly dodged the punches coming at him but a knee to the face as he ducked down sent him flying. Before he could even stand up, Beelzebub grabbed him by the hair and tossed him like a ragdoll before taking out the iron staff again and smashed it right across his face sending him flying right towards a statue of the Virgin Mary.

John weakly looked up.  Never before had he been this beaten up in either his living or his deceased years.  He slowly raised his hand up but before he could even do a single psychic attack, Beelzebub stepped on his hand and sneered out.

“You’ve played your last concert John Deacon. Had you not been so selfish your family’s death would’ve been quick and painless but now that you’ve really pissed. Me. Off. I’m gonna finish each of them—nice and slow.”

Now John was enraged.

“The Deacons and I,” he revealed a three point death scythe that stuck out like a pitchfork. “We’re gonna have a hell of a Night.” John slowly stood up as he kept his eyes on the demon before him.

Beelzebub then went to stab John right in the face but John actually grabbed the three point scythe and held back his demise. The two monsters literally shaking as one tried to thrust the scythe while the other held it back.  John’s form glitching with rage as his eyes shifted between black and red.

Finally with a ghostly wail, John sent Beelzebub right off his feet, sending him flying almost 3m.  John then lifted his hand so that the weeds could bind themselves around Beelzebub’s feet to trip him up and send him right on his face.  He then looked at a large weeping angel statue and used his powers to slowly tip the Weeping angel statue towards him.

Trapped and bound with no ways of escaping, Beelzebub screamed as the statue fell right on top of him, smashing to nothing but rubble. To even add more injury, John looked at any nearby statue which was enough for them to come tumbling down right on top of Beelzebub, crushing him under rock and stone.  

Soon there was nothing but rubble and dust circling around their spot of the cemetery.

Finally getting the strength to pull himself out of the rubble, Beelzebub’s hand was the only thing to peak out.  Slowly he pulled himself out, stumbling as he tried to regain his footing.  The cemetery was eerily silent and pitch black, and John Deacon was nowhere in sight.

He slowly turned around in a circle trying to find the ghost of the young bass player but couldn’t find him anywhere. Suddenly a Banshee like scream came from behind him as he was grabbed by the throat and flown up high at crazy fast speed.

He was slammed through a small tomb and fell to the ground rolling on the floor.  Then he felt himself being pinned against the wall with his hands extended outward.  Landing in front of him was an enraged John Deacon.  He teleported right in front of the fly demon roughly holding him by the throat.

He didn’t speak a word, just sent one powerful punch into his ribs, hearing the loud snapping of his ribs breaking before sucker punching him across the face.  As a portion of his upper body slacked to the left, John brought him right back to position one and sent another punch, this time harder at the demon’s face.

Punch after punch after punch.  Giving into his anger and hatred with each punch until a voice snapped him out of it.

“GRANDPA!!!”

*My POV*

Once we landed in the cemetery I could already see what looked like a scuffle.  Tombstones knocked over, statues torn down, and close by I could hear the wails of a banshee.  Freddie, Brian and Roger soon left Constantine’s body and Freddie said.

“That’s Deacy alright. Those painful, agonizing wails can only come from one person.”

“He’s already giving into the hate. Seeing you, your father and his wife being hurt has caused him to unleash his full potential. If he kills that demon, I’ll have to kill him cause a ghost that angry is a bloody dangerous one.” Constantine said.

“No just let me talk to him. I can save him!” I raced off following the painful, hate-filled wails.  Freddie, Rog, and Brian floating right behind me and Constantine racing close behind.

We arrived at a tomb where a large hole stood at the top of it.  We raced inside and I could already see my grandad punching the demon across his fly-like face.  Each punch we all could hear a sickening crack of bone.

“GRANDPA!!” I screamed at him.  His head snapped towards me and I could already see him glitching with rage and his eyes were now pure red.  Slowly I walked towards him with my hands up. “I know you’re in there somewhere, I just need you to listen.”

I took a step literally every other minute just so that I wouldn’t unleash the rageful ghost he now was.  The once friendly appearance he had, was now more demonic.  

His hair now looked like a raging fire instead of floating calmly like a river, his face now contorted to something right out of the Nun or Poltergeist, a face between his actual human form or showing his inner skeletal form, and the glitching didn’t help either, in fact it made him even more menacing looking.

Then of course there were his eyes.  The pure, demonic red eyes that made me want to sink to my knees and plead for my life to be spared.  I almost hate to compare but it was like my grandfather had become the Devil himself.

“Nana, dad and I are fine. See? Just shaken up and a little bruised but we’re all okay. So you need to stop this.” Suddenly I felt myself being pulled right towards him and his long, skeletal fingers wrapped around my throat giving it a squeeze.

I could see Constantine going for something but I wheezed out.

“Don’t. you. dare!” I turned back to my granddad who just looked at me like a crazed, possessed spirit.  He didn’t even recognize me at this point. “Please,” I pleaded. “I finally just got to know you. If you kill that demon now, I’ll lose you forever.” He didn’t speak a word, just slowly kept turning his head side to side like a demonic puppy.

I slowly reached my hand out to cup the side of his face and whispered one last time.

“I love you grandad. Please come back to me.” He continued to glare at me for a few more minutes before suddenly his grip on my throat released.  His constant glitching began to stop but he still had a tick.  I walked closer to him till finally I just embraced him and nuzzled into his chest. “I want my shy, sweet gramps back.”

I felt his arms wrap around me and he squeezed me as tightly as he could.  I looked up and was finally looking at my granddad again.  His form no longer glitching with rage, his eyes back to the pure black they were, and his face no longer contorted or demonic.

It was just him in his ghostly self.  Tears filled my eyes as I sobbed happily.

“I’m so sorry (y/n).” he choked out with regret. I shook my head no and embraced him tightly.

“It’s over now. It’s all over.” He separated from me to look down at me and he looked me over worriedly.

“You’re sure you’re not—”

“I’m fine. And so are dad and nana. You saved us.” He smiled and cupped my face in his hands.  His eyes full of love and admiration.

“My granddaughter.” He praised lovingly.

“My granddad.” He soon began laughing before frantically kissing all over my face.  I giggled softly as he kept kissing me before finally ending it with a kiss to my nose, just like nana always did when I was a little girl.

Freddie, Roger, and Brian soon came over and they embraced their friend and brother.  Thanking God that granddad didn’t succumb to the rage and turn into a bad ghost.

I then turned towards Constantine who now stood before the fly demon Beelzebub and began chanting out some ancient chant. Then almost like a scene out of Harry Potter when Barty Crouch Jr. was revealed, the demon’s face began spaz out and shift.

Soon the face revealed a man with a tache, a tuff of hair on his head and his skin was rotting away.  It was like looking at a zombie from the Walking dead.

“Paul Prenter.” Roger hissed out.  He turned his head towards us and he said.

“Freddie, boys, oh thank god for you all.”

“For what?” snapped Brian.

“For sparing me. I never wanted to do any of this! Please you must believe me! Lucifer is—is powerful.”

“Don’t bullshit us Prenter right now you’re just taking the piss!” Roger hissed.

“How would he know of Veronica? About my son and granddaughter?” granddad asked.  Before Prenter could even say a word, Constantine soon spoke up.

“I think I can explain that. See I have been diving into what happened to you four for years. For over 4 decades people have speculated on just what happened to the once rising band Queen. But 2 months ago I came across someone who said they knew the truth of what happened that day.”

“What’s the true story?” I asked.

“I had gotten an anonymous tip from Belfast and it was there I met an old man named Michael Prenter. Who after 45 years since the murders had to finally confess his sins that he knew who the real killer was.” It was then he turned towards Paul.

Prenter looked down almost shamefully till a sickening grin spread across his face and he softly cackled.

“So that bastard of a brother of mine finally squealed like a pig eh? I knew I should’ve killed him too when I told him. But then again Mother would’ve been heartbroken had her favorite son suddenly turned up dead.”

“You……you killed us?” Freddie spoke with heartbreak, shock, betrayal, and sorrow.

“It was Reid’s mistake to have us go so far out of the city. No one could hear the screams, I only meant to kill just three. You were just enough for the record.”

“You ended us just before our careers could really take off. All these years Queen could’ve been one of the greatest bands of all but you took that from us! AND FOR WHAT!?” Freddie snapped.

“Freddie please—I love you.” Granddad and I looked at each other scoffing and rolling our eyes.

“You ruined us Paul. You stole our lives and away from our families. Now you may not be able to repair that, but you can pay for what you did.” Freddie hissed lowly in a threatening way. “Nearly killing Deacy’s family is like killing our family. And that will not go unpunished.”

“No Freddie please! I did this for you! For us!”

“You did it for yourself you dirty, rotten Rat king! Get rid of him Constantine dear.”

“About time I got to get rid of something.” He muttered as he lit up his lighter and burned a piece of paper with an Anti-demon insignia on it and he began chanting out an exorcism.  He tossed it right at Paul’s feet and he started twitching and the fire started to encompass him.

His screams of agony echoed throughout the tomb. Granddad tucked my head into his chest so that I wouldn’t have to see what happens to a soul during an exorcism. All I could hear was Paul’s agonizing screams and the sounds of the fire consuming his soul alive.

Then the tomb went silent.  There wasn’t anymore screaming, no flames roaring, no more chanting.  It was just quiet.

“It is finished.” Constantine said.

“The bastard deserved it. Now I hope he’s burning in hell.” Roger said.

“Don’t worry, he is.” Constantine assured him.

“(Y/n)!”

“(Y/n)!” the two voices were from my dad and nana. I ran towards the back of the tomb and said.

“We’re in here!” they came around the tomb and I raced over to them and immediately raced to my nana who embraced me first before my dad came up and embraced us.

“Are you alright?” nana asked me.

“I’m fine nana, I’m okay. Constantine got rid of Beelzebub—or well Paul Prenter. He’s gone. And nana he was the reason granddad and his friends died. He killed them while they were at Rockfield farm.” Nana turned towards granddad who looked down solemnly.

“So that’s what happened? But how come the police never told me it was a homicide?”

“Paul maybe a slime but he was clever. His brother told me that the way Paul had done it was not just one way. His brother said that the first one he killed was you John, simply smothering you in your sleep till you gave out. Next one he killed was Roger.  Yours was the most rageful according to his brother. He said that Paul had beaten you in the head with one of the guitars you all brought.”

“Jesus, no wonder why for the first few decades I felt my head banging.” He said as he placed a hand to his head.

“Brian’s was the swiftest. A total of 20 stab wounds mostly around the chest and face. Which explains why that cut on your cheek still seeps out ghost blood.” Brian raised his hand to the cut on his cheek and watched as the blood danced across his fingers before fading away.

“I—I think I remember that. I remember someone standing over me, bloody and……..oh god.” Brian went speechless.

His white eyes shined with pure shock and it made me want to just go up there and give him a hug (even though I knew I couldn’t).

“He left you for last Freddie Mercury. The one he was passionate about, but the way he had done you is probably the cruelest I had ever seen.”

“What did he do?” he asked gravely.

“Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“If you don’t tell me I’ll force it out of you.” Freddie hissed.  Constantine sighed heavily before finally revealing how the frontman of Queen died.

“First to ensure you wouldn’t wake up during the first three murders. He slipped you a few sleeping pills in your drink the night after recording the album. When you woke up, you first saw the blood from Roger’s room. That’s when you found your best friend dead on the bed, head almost completely smashed in. You then ran to Brian’s room only to find that he too was dead. Hoping that he too hadn’t been killed, you then ran to find Deacy over there. At first you thought he was asleep, buried underneath the pillows but when you felt just how cold he felt, you realized that he was dead as a doornail.”

Oh my god. This—this was…….I can’t believe Paul would do something like that. And to have Freddie wake up the next morning to see that his best friends in the whole wide world were dead.

“And that’s when he killed Freddie last?” nana asked.  Constantine nodded.

“Four gunshots right in the chest. The last shot entered right into your heart.”

“But what I don’t understand is if the main reason why my dad and his friends died was homicide, then why didn’t they ever find the bodies?” my dad asked.

“That’s where he got clever. Paul Prenter sat there for days while your bodies began to decompose. After the 7th day, Lucifer himself came to the farm and told Prenter how to perfectly dispose of the bodies by burning them. Using a spell that he had been given by the devil himself, Paul was able to cast a spell as your bodies, including any normal remains such as bones, teeth and clothes, would turn to ash. Poof. No more Queen. And thus the theories began to rise about what had happened to the band that was last seen at Rockfield farm studios.”

Nana turned to granddad and slowly walked towards him.  He looked at her almost shamefully.  As the two of them now stood face to face for the first time in 45 years, he said to her.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I—I did this to you. You could’ve moved on from me, had a new life. Had more children. I caused you so much pain Ronnie. I don’t deserve……”

“Stop right there John Richard Deacon.” She snapped sternly. “You—you did nothing wrong. None of this was your fault. There’s only one man, who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, would have children with, and only one man I have ever loved. And you’ve literally proven to me that not even death could part us.”

Granddad slowly reached out to her and gently stroked a strand of her short white hair out of her face before resting his hand on her cheek.  Nana nuzzled her face into his hand as she held onto his arm.

“You’re still as beautiful as the day I first met you.” aww.

“Now I know you’re spewing lies.” Nana teased.

“I never jest when it comes to you. I always knew you’d be beautiful, even as we grew old and grey together.” God my heart! Then the two of them leaned towards each other and finally kissed one another after being taken away from each other.

I placed my hand over my heart and felt tears fall down my face.  Now I finally got to see just how much nana loved him.  From the stories she’s shared with me these past three months, I was finally seeing with my own two eyes of the love these two clearly shared with each other.

They really were meant to be.

Their kiss was so soft and warm it was like seeing something out of a romantic novel.  Their lips brushing against each other’s even after separating, their noses gently nudging the other’s, and both of them wearing the warmest, sweetest smile they both could ever make.  Eyes gleaming with love and happiness.

I turned to my dad who looked like he was about to cry.  Finally seeing his parents back together, it was probably a dream come true for him. For years in his late teen all the way through adult years he’s tried to keep any mentions of granddad a secret so it wouldn’t upset nana.  

Now he’s finally getting the chance to see his parents expressing the love they shared and clearly still had even after all these years.

It was then nana and pops turned towards us and he extended his hand out as he called my dad over.  My dad suddenly grew nervous so he looked to his mum for guidance. She smiled lovingly and nodded, assuring him it was okay.

He then turned to me asking me through his expression if it was okay.  I gave him a gently shove and he walked towards the father he never got to know.

When the two of them stood face to face it was scary to suddenly realize just how much my dad looked like granddad (if he had gotten the chance to age past 24).  Pops just stared at my dad in disbelief before he finally cupped his face in his hands.

“You’re so big.” Was the first thing granddad choked out.  There was soft laughter everywhere and dad choked out.

“Yeah uhh……” he cleared his throat. “God I—I only dreamed about this as a kid. I—I had so many things to tell you but I…..I don’t know……I’m so sorry dad. I—I gave up on you. The mere mention of your name broke mum so much that I just…..I couldn’t bring myself to tell (y/n) about you. Can…..can you ever forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive my son.” Pops gently wiped away a hidden tear that fell from my dad’s face. “But let me give you one piece of advice; Fatherhood is never easy. There’s no shortcuts, no easy-way-out. When your mum found out she was pregnant, I was scared to death cause of the financial situation we were in. But I was willing to go with it, cause I wanted to be a father, even though I was terrified.”

“She’s always told me how much you were wanting to see me once the album was done.”

“And I would give anything in the world to have had that chance to hold you. To be the father I wanted to be. I never wanted you to grow up fatherless like I did. I would’ve given you siblings if you asked me.” The two of them laughed, god even their laughs were similar. “Now I know things have been difficult with you since your divorce. But you shouldn’t hide within your work. I can tell you this, no matter how popular Queen would’ve gotten had we released our 4th album, no matter what success came our way, I would trade it all away for you and your mother. Because nothing is more important than family.”

The two of them looked towards me.

“She’s coming to the age where she’ll be a full grown adult. So don’t ever let her say she thinks you don’t love her anymore. Because that’ll break your heart.” My dad nodded as he immediately embraced his father and wept.

I had never seen my dad cry so much—wait scratch that, I’ve never seen him cry at all.  Seeing my dad weep openly like a child in his dad’s arms broke my heart. Tears dripped from my eyes and I could see nana covering her mouth as she was openly sobbing at the sight she longed to see.

Both her boys together and embracing each other.

After they shared their moment, pops pressed his forehead against my dad’s and the two of them stayed in that position for awhile before granddad finally gave my father a kiss at the center of his forehead.

They separated after one last hug and that’s when granddad turned his attention toward me.  He came towards me and immediately placed his hand to my cheek. I pressed my hand against his cold, ghostly black hand and kissed his palm.

“Now knowing the truth I finally get why you felt so familiar the night we met. You have both your father and grandmother in you. Your father’s hair, but you have your grandmother’s eyes, nose, and golden heart. As well as the same beauty that attracted me to her the night we met. Which means Robert you better keep a sharp eye on her.” Once again there was laughter in the air.

“Don’t I know it.” Pops turned back toward me and I said to him.

“I wish I had gotten the chance to know you when you were alive. You and the guys.”

“So do I. I can only imagine how much I would’ve looked forward to being a granddad. I would’ve spoiled you rotten every time you came to Veronica and I.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her.” Nana spoke up.

“But I am happy to have gotten to know you at all.” Granddad said as his thumb gently stroked my cheek.

“Guess I really need to thank Brandon for forcing us to go to the studio. It must’ve been fate or something.”

“Whatever it was, I’m glad you did go along with it. I got to see the most beautiful grandchild in the world, finally got the chance to see my son, and be reunited with the woman I love.”

The sun then began to rise and the night sky began to shift into the dawn’s light.  But what soon caught our attention was a star-like brightness that shined on the back gate.  It slowly opened up and that’s when Brian asked.

“What is that?”

“The entrance to your next life.” Constantine spoke up.  We all turned to him and he continued, “Now that you four know the truth and got closure, you can finally move on. Your souls no longer bound to Earth anymore.”

“You mean—they can pass on to Heaven?” asked nana. Constantine nodded.  I turned to my granddad and the guys (can I call the rest of Queen my uncles at this point?).

“So—does this mean I’ll never get to see you guys again?” Freddie came up to me and he said.

“We’ll never truly leave you darling. Because legends never die.”

“He’s right. We’ll always be with you kiddo, here,” Roger said as he pointed to my head first. “And here.” Then he pointed right at my heart.

“And so long as you keep our music close, and the memories you had with us at the farm closer, we’ll never truly leave you.” Brian finished.

“I’ll miss you guys.” I said.

“Oh dear we’ll miss you too. You have been the best thing to happen to us in 45 years since our death.” Freddie said. The three of them surrounded me and put me in the middle of a group hug.

Amazingly this time, I was able to feel the three of them finally touch me.  Once they also realized that their hands and arms no longer went through me, their embrace grew tighter (especially Rog’s and Fred’s).

They each hugged and kissed me individually next telling me their goodbyes, thank yous and I love yous and I did the same back to them.  I turned back towards my family to see pops whispering something to Nana in her ear before taking her hand in his and planting a soft kiss to it, as well as giving her one last kiss on the lips.

He then turned towards my dad, cupped the side of his head and whispered in his ear next.  Dad nodded before the two of them embraced each other tightly.  After the two of them released the hug, granddad kissed my dad’s forehead before turning around towards me and extended his hand as he said.

“Come here poppet.” I walked towards him and placed my hand in his.  He leaned down towards my ear and whispered.

“I shall always be with you until we’re together again.” I nodded and he gave me a soft kiss right on my cheek.

The four of us then did one final family group hug with granddad having his arms around all of us.  I was in the middle nuzzling into his chest, dad leaned against granddad’s right side while nana took the left, placing her head right where his heart would be.

After what felt like eternity, granddad forced himself away from us as he walked towards Freddie, Brian and Roger who now stood before the opened gate into heaven.  The four of them looked at us and they waved goodbye.

The three of us waved a tearful goodbye back and I blew them a kiss.

As the four of them turned their backs to us I could hear Freddie say.

“I just hope it won’t be boring up there.”

“All I hope is that there’ll be lots of lovely angels up there.” Roger spoke out.

“Typical Roger, even in death you still can’t help yourself.” Brian said.

“Ever the play boy in life or death.” Granddad’s voice echoed before finally all four of their spirits disappeared into the sunlight. My dad and nana came up beside me and they each had an arm wrapped around me and the three of us watched as the gates soon closed and the sun rose higher and higher into the sky.

I turned around to see Constantine walking away with his hands in his pockets.

“Constantine!” I called out.  He stopped and turned back towards me. “Thank you. For everything.” He grinned and simply said.

“Just another day in the office love. Now—try not to evoke anymore demonic deities or spiritual apparitions.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good day to you then Deacon family. And I hope to never see you lot again.” And with that he walked away.  Then finally we left the cemetery and hailed a cabbie home.

*Epilogue*

I’ll tell you this much.  After the events of March. 19th, things were different from that day on.  My dad and I patched things up.  He left his company and became an author.  His books got some recognition but it was his 3rd book titled LEGEND OF THE BAND that was his best seller.

He wrote it as a fictional piece so that we could respect the privacy of his father and how Queen truly died.  But we also had tragedy hit us.  

Five years later, nana passed away peacefully in her sleep.  We thought it was best for her to be buried where her husband’s body was last seen.

We drove up to Rockfield farm and we buried her right near the building where the recording studio was.  During her funeral I played granddad’s song he made for her, “You’re my best friend” as a way to let granddad know that she was coming for him.

I would go to London University and study criminology.  I slowly go up the ranks and by the time I turn 35 I become the leading detective in the Cold cases division.

I help hundreds of families find closure on the deaths of loved ones they’ve lost for decades.  With every case I solve; I see my story back when I was just a teenage when I finally got to meet my long deceased grandfather and the band members of Queen.  Because of me, no one got to wonder what ever happened to their loved ones and we bring justice to those that forced the families to grieve for as long as mine has.

As I now lay there in my bed at the tinder age of 97 sick and fading, I would question whether I did enough.  But as I close my eyes and hear the voices of my father and grandparents, as well as my uncles it puts me at ease.  I had done my job and now it was time.

The next time I woke up, I was a 17 year old teenager again and right there at the gates of Heaven I see my father, Freddie, Brian, Roger and my grandparents.  All young and vibrant.

This time my grandfather and uncles were back to how they were when they were human back in the 1970s.  All of them wore soft smiles and extending his and out to me was my granddad.  I walked towards him and placed my hand in his.

He pulled me towards them and I was once again engulfed in a family group hug.  I smile as I buried my head between my nana and granddad.

Finally at peace and happy with my family in the gates of Heaven.

[harrisonbrows]

☆ BRIAN MAY ICONS ☆

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