#my plan anyway is to eventually get good enough to make it from ROG to SW to HAM in the same save

[hell-garden]

Playing Hamlet like the world's hardest and most stressful farming sim

[illfoandillfie]

Hey for the blurbs thing, i was wondering how roger and reader are getting on in the quiet in the library universe, how is he tormenting her (in the best way) these days 😁

sorry this is so late! today has been hectic and this got a little longer than I planned, a little over 3k. Thanks for the request though, this is another old series that I haven’t revisited in a little while so it was a lot of fun! Ya’ll know I love me some cocky dom 70s rog 😂

Warnings: smut, public sex, specifically library sex, getting caught, restraints/light bondage, gag, hair pulling, some talk of free use, 

Blurb Advent: Day 22

About a week after Kathy had stumbled upon you and Roger after hours, you’d been rostered on for work at the same time. She’d clearly been waiting for such a moment to question you and took the opportunity to put you through the third degree while you were sitting at the main desk together. She was steadily making her way through a stack of returned books while you dealt with any customers who approached and tried to ignore her. It wasn’t easy to block out her constant questions of who was Roger? and how long have you been together? and do you always fool around when you’re on closing? and is he a good shag at least? and there weren’t enough people seeking your help to qualify as a proper distraction. Eventually you cracked and told her everything, kind of enjoying the way her eyebrows rose with each new piece of information.

“Well, we’re not like actually together. Just friends.”

“Friends, really?”

“Friends who hook up every now and then,”

“So, was that the only time you’ve done it here?”

“Not really. Theres been a couple others,”

“Where? Specifically, where?”

“In the shelves mostly. The first time I was sitting on the returns trolly. We almost got caught that time,” you laughed, “Second was on the floor by the 900s.”

“Y/N!”

You shushed her, “Keep it down,”

“Sorry I just never would have expected it from you. And that’s where we work!”

“He brings out the worst in me I think. Anyway, don’t expect to walk in on us again. He hasn’t even suggested we do it here since you caught us so I think he’s kind of over the whole sexy librarian thing or maybe he realised we could get in proper trouble. Last time we got together it was at his place.”

“Not quite the same as shagging in public,”

You shrugged, “His roommate came home halfway through which checks the same boxes.”

“Well good because I don’t think I want to walk in on anything else. I feel quite lucky you both still had your pants on,”

 The day progressed as usual and Kathy dropped the topic for the most part. She did mention it once when she was tasked with putting the returned books back on the shelf, making a joke about hoping the trolly had been wiped down, but otherwise you found other things to chat about when you weren’t busy with library duties. Roger had offered to pick you up in the evening so you could go and watch the band and when it came time to leave he was already waiting for you. Kathy walked out with you and waved to Roger as she headed towards her own car.

“Who was that? Do I know her?”

“That’s Kathy. She was the one who owned the book you spanked me with, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” he laughed, “that was fun,”

“Mmm well, she put me through the third degree about it today. Asked all about you and how often it’s happened.”

Roger found it very amusing, much more than you did, and kept laughing about it all the way to the venue.

 The next day you headed to work again and settled in for another normal day. Returns, shelving, loans, the usual. Kathy was in again though your boss had called in sick so neither of you felt like working too hard. It was in the early afternoon that Roger found you. You were switching some books on a display of new releases when he tapped you on the shoulder. Immediately you glanced around to see if Kathy had noticed him but she was caught up loaning books out to a doddering old man who came in at least once a week.

“What are you doing here?” you asked Roger, suspiciously.

“Well, I got thinking.”

“Oh god,”

“No, you’ll like this. So, I was thinking about Kathy asking you about me yesterday, and then that got me thinking about everything I’ve done to you here and that got me hard.”

“Rog,”

“And then I released there’s a part of the library that I’d really like to have you in that we haven’t used before. We’ve done the shelves, we’ve done the desk.”

“Rog, I’m not fucking in the children’s section. That’d get us arrested,”

“What? No, not what I meant. I mean I’m up for it but only after hours. You could sit on one of their mini chairs and suck me off again,”

You rolled your eyes, but he ignored you.

“No, I meant your staff area out the back,”

“What the lunch room? Rog, that barely counts as a room. It’s not that big and the whole room is taken up by a table with some tall stools. None of us even use it for eating because it’s not that comfortable. We mostly use it for our teacups and kettle. Oh and new books – storing them before we’ve put them on the shelves and adding the plastic dust jackets and all that.”

“I think it still counts,”

“Fine but that brings us to the fact that it is impossible to do anything in there during the day. The only door to it is right near the desk and there is no way you could get in there without being seen and chucked out of the building.”

Roger pouted, “C’mon Y/N,”

“There’s literally nothing I can do, it’s out of my hands. If you’re still hard tonight I can come over and help sort you out but the lunch room won’t work.”

“Oh alright, what time do you finish today?”

“7.30,”

“You on closing?”

“No, Kathy is,”

“And your boss?”

“She’s not in today, home sick. What’s with all the questions?”

“Nothing, it’s fine. Um, see you later then,”

“Yeah, see you.” You turned back to your display as Roger left, shaking your head.

 So you were left to your quiet and laid back day though Roger kept intruding on your thoughts. You were sure he was up to something, that he had an idea of sneaking back into the library after Kathy left or something like that. Admittedly, the idea was a little exciting. Perhaps you could suggest it if he didn’t. You’d have the entire building to yourself then, could get away with using the sitting chairs and the floor in the main area, right in front of the windows. Whatever you wanted really. And there was almost no chance of being interrupted. The idea stuck in the back of your head, and you took to watching the clock, willing the time to move faster so you could leave and find Roger. You’d been right though, Roger was planning something and not quite the same something that you were.

 It was already growing dark outside when you thought you saw him come in but before you could look properly you were asked to help a woman locate a book. You led her to the shelf and found the book before pointing her back to the desk where Kathy could loan it out for her. She was halfway across the room when the lights went out. A few people in the front of the library squealed and yelled in shock and you heard Kathy tell everyone not to panic but you were too distracted to pay much attention to them. A warm hand had clasped itself over your mouth.

“Don’t panic, it’s just me,” You nodded and felt Roger’s hand loose, “What the fuck?”

Roger shrugged, “All I did was turn the power off at the electrical panel, easy to get back on. And don’t try to tell me you haven’t been thinking about this all day because I know you have,”

“You’re unbelievable,”

“Save that for after we’re done. You gonna show me to the back room now or are we going to just do it here?”

“Okay, c’mon, this way.” Grabbing his hand you pulled him in the direction of the back room, using the shelves to guide you. As quietly as possible you opened the door labelled ‘Staff Only’ and slipped inside, Roger close behind. Outside, by the desk, you could hear Kathy calming people down, telling them it must be a power outage, but you stopped listening as Roger pulled you into a kiss and backed you against the table. A light from the store next door illuminated the room enough for you to see the outline of the table and the items on it. With just enough care to not send everything crashing to the floor, Roger cleared a space, intending to lift you onto it. You saw him glance down at one of the items he picked up and then look back at you, still fiddling with the item.

“I’ve always had trouble keeping you quiet, isn’t that true?”

“Not always,”

“Is that you arguing with me?”

“No,”

“No, what?”

“No, Sir,”

“Better. Now, like I was saying. You have trouble being quiet but I think I might have a solution,” there was a sticky peeling sound and you released what he’d found. Roger lifted the roll of tape and used his teeth to tear off a section, sticking it over your mouth. “Wouldn’t want anyone to find us in here, would we slut?”

You shook your head.

“Turn around,”

You shuffled around to face the desk and felt Roger’s hand on your shoulder, pushing you to bend over it. The next thing you felt was your arms being pulled behind you, the roll of tape being wrapped around your wrists to keep them in place. After half a dozen or so circuits, Roger bent forward to tear the tape from the roll again and place the roll back on the table.

You whined quietly into your gag as Roger kicked your feet further apart and then gripped you hair to pull you up. He began unbuttoning the top of your dress, slipping his hands into the opening to palm your breasts.

“I bet you’re already wet, aren’t you?” he said softly, close to your ear, “Dirty girl. You like being my slut. Didn’t object to bringing me back here, didn’t object to being tied up, and you’re not going to object when I fuck you over this table.”

You nodded again, unable to talk, and dropped your head back onto his shoulder. 

Roger didn’t let you enjoy it for long before he pushed you forward again, using your hair to turn your head to face the side. You had a view of the door from where you were positioned but you were too high up to see through the crack under the door so had no hope of keeping lookout for anyone approaching. Roger paid no attention to the door as he lifted your dress, folding it back so you were exposed to him. He ran his hands over your arse, making you shiver and press yourself back towards him, before hooking his fingers into the band of your underpants and dragging them down to your knees. Slowly, he trailed his fingers back up your thighs and then in towards your cunt. Roger laughed, softly, as he spread you open.

“I told you you were a dirty girl.”

You squirmed as he ran his fingers along your cunt, trying to get him to do more. When you attempted to say his name it caught on the tape and sounded nothing like it should.

“What’s that slut? I can’t hear you,”

You grunted in annoyance and twitched your fingers as if that was going to help.

“As fun as this is I don’t think I have time for a game of charades.” Rogers fingers danced back down your slit and pressed into you, “Someone’s going to work out to check the box soon and then the lights will be back and everyone will wonder where you disappeared too. So I better hurry up and check your box, shouldn’t I?” He chuckled at his own joke.

You keened into your gag as he fingered you, partly because it felt good and partly out of worry that you’d be caught out again, though that definitely turned you on too.

Roger kept working his fingers in and out of you as he undid his trousers though he had to stop to get them down. He didn’t leave you empty for long though, his own observation about needing to speed things up seemingly spurring him on. Once his cock was free he stepped in close, the hand that was slick with your arousal pumping along it’s length.

“Gonna fuck you now, slut. I know you’re gagged but it’s only tape so don’t scream too loud.”

With one hand on your hip he guided himself into you, bottoming out and leaning over you.

You whimpered as he paused to grind his hips into you, his other hand coming up to your hair.

“Good girl. Gonna keep being my good little whore and take me so well,” he pressed down on the side of your head to keep you in place as he pulled his hips back and snapped then into you, finding a fast rhythm that made you whine. All you could do was grasp at thin air and try to keep quiet as he pinned you down. He made things all the more frustrating by leaning over you to breathe against your ear or mouth at your neck.

 Suddenly the lights came back on. Outside you heard Kathy call you your name.

Roger stuttered out of rhythm for a moment with the shock of the sudden light but soon fell back into it, “Uh oh. Someone figured it out.”

You whined into the tape over your mouth.

Roger pulled you your head up again, his hand wrapping around your throat, though you were still mostly bent over the table, “Should I stop?”

You thought for a moment, eyes darting to the door as Roger kept thrusting into you.

“Y/N?”

You shook your head and Roger laughed before pushing you back down, “Feels too good to stop doesn’t it.”

 You knew it was a mistake as soon as the shadow under the door changed and a second later the knob turned. With a whine you tried to warn Roger but it was no use, the door was opening. He noticed when the hinges creaked and came to a halt though he was still balls deep inside you.

Kathy gave a small yell of surprise and covered her mouth.

“Hi, Kathy was it? Sorry, d’you think you could give us a few minutes?”

“Is she…?”

“She wanted this, it’s okay.”

You nodded as much as you could, feeling as hot in the face as Kathy’s cheeks looked.

“We won’t be long,” Roger said politely.

Kathy looked back at him though her eyes darted away again as she mumbled an apology and left, closing the door behind her.

Roger snorted and began to laugh as you groaned and squeezed your eyes shut as if that would undo things.

“D’you think she knew what was happening and was trying to sneak a peak?”

Again you tried to groan his name but his only reply was to snap his hips into you again, picking up where he’d left off.

“Impatient slut. If you want my cock so bad you can have it. And don’t think I didn’t feel you clench when she came it. You liked being caught.”

You whined in denial.

“You did. I felt it. Y’know, maybe if you’re lucky, she’ll tell someone and they’ll come to see if it’s true. We might end up with qu-ite a crowd. I wonder how many of the men out there would want a go. A, fuck, a cock crazed slut with a drip-ping cunt all spread out and ready to be used. I bet they’d all want to try you. God, keep squeezing like that and I’ll be finished in about ten seconds. I think you’re close too, right? The thought of being used and fill and fucked over and over. M-maybe I should edge you, get you all de-fuck-desperate, and let them in. You’d beg for them then.”

You were panting by now, your stomach tight with the release that was creeping up on you.

“Such a pathetic, fucking, whore. My whore. Mine to use. Mine to loan out. I’ll put a stamp on your arse, ju-st like one of your books. Let them each use you for a while. And then I’d have you again, bound and obedient and fucked out. You l-like the sound of that, don’t you? Yeah, gonna cum thinking about being p-passed around.”

You whined as the dam broke and your orgasm washed over you.

“Good girl,” Roger panted though he kept holding you down as he let himself go.

 Without saying much more Roger pulled your underwear back into place and dropped your skirt down. You stayed slumped over the desk as he fixed his own clothes but then he helped you to stand, carefully peeling the tape from your face.

“There’re scissors over there,” you nodded at the table and Roger moved to grab them, turning you around so he could cut your hands free.

“Can’t believe they were there all along and I tore it with my teeth.”

“Hotter with the teeth.” You rolled your newly freed wrists and then turned back around and slapped his chest, “You shit.”

Roger laughed, “Sorry. I genuinely didn’t know she’d come in and I didn’t plan for her too. I mean it got you off so I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“You’re going to wash your hands over at the sink and then you are going to go and apologise to her and then tomorrow you are going to bring her a box of chocolates or something to make up for it.”

“Aright. I’ll apologise. You can’t complain if she wants a go of me though.”

“Roger!”

“Okay, I’m going. I will apologise profusely, and then I’ll wait in the car for you.”

“You cannot want another round,”

“I can and I wouldn’t say no but I actually just meant I’d give you a lift home.”

“Good. Okay”

“D’you want me to buy you chocolates too?”

“It’d be nice,”

“Okay,” he smiled and dragged his thumb over your cheek, “I might have gone a bit far tonight, didn’t I?”

“Maybe a little,”

“But it was good though, right? You had fun?”

“Yes, I did,” you conceded.

“And why was that?”

You rolled your eyes, “Because I’m a slut,”

“And,”

“Because you’re unbelievable,” you sighed.

“Good girl,” he laughed as he leaned forward to kiss you, “I really didn’t mean for us to be caught, I thought we’d have a bit longer. But hey, at least it wasn’t your boss.”

“Small mercies.”

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 9: Follow The Rules]

Hi y’all, I hope you are all doing well 💜

Chapter summary: Veronica has some questions, Roger has a plan, John has a short temper. 

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, medical stuff, pregnancy.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @stardust-killer-queen​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

At the wedding, Roger is wearing a cast on his right arm and a dazzling smile...and a white suit that he looks criminally good in.

John is in black, Brian in blue, Freddie in maroon-colored velvet and heavy eyeliner. Veronica’s dress is high-waisted and falls in huge, billowing, shapeless ruffles to hide her silhouette. Her family knows, of course—it’s written all over the tense, grim lines of their mouths and the blades their pale eyes hurl at John—but none of those strict Catholics are going to mention an out-of-wedlock pregnancy in God’s house, nor at the modest reception in the church basement that follows the ceremony.

Veronica’s mother and aunts and sisters are just like her, docile and milky-skinned and small-boned, and you’ve helped them deck the vast room with enough flowers, ribbons, candles, and balloons to make everyone forget this event was thrown together in five weeks and on a shoestring budget. There’s a simple buffet with pot roast and potatoes and vegetables, a live band (some of John’s old friends from high school), and a homemade Polish honey cake baked by Veronica’s grandmother situated regally on a china serving dish. Veronica and John cycle through the tables of guests, smiling and nodding and thanking them for coming, dutifully and yet also seemingly genuinely cheerful.

“The boning is bloody impaling me,” Chrissie murmurs as she tugs at the bodice of her gown. It’s satin and a muted pink, just like yours and Mary’s and Veronica’s sisters’. “If I happen die, wrap me in one of those nice tablecloths I paid for and throw me in a ditch somewhere, will you love?”

“You got it.” You stab a piece of potato with your fork. “This should inspire you to be especially compassionate towards your own bridesmaids! Maybe no horrid shiny green.”

Brian chuckles. “Good luck with that.”

“Are you comfortable?!” Chrissie asks Mary, exasperated, fanning herself with a wedding program.

“I am,” Mary admits cautiously. “But...well...at the moment, I think my dress is a bit...roomier.”

Chrissie moans, dropping her face into her hands. “I always gain when the students go home for summer. My routine is wrecked, all I want to do is read Glamour magazines and listen to records, it’s too damn hot to go walking...and I adore ice cream.”

“I like you just fine,” Brian reassures her.

Freddie snickers as he taps his cigarette against an ashtray. “Yes, we’re all well aware of your anatomical preferences, Bri.”

Chrissie rolls her eyes. “Please do not elaborate.” She’s not offended—she’s far too used to Freddie’s shenanigans to be offended—but she’ll be embarrassed if he makes a scene at a wedding.

“Darling, I don’t care what anyone tries to tell you, plenty of men love a little extra meat on the bones. Particularly the ass bones.”

“We’re in God’s house!” you scold him in a hiss. “You’re going to give Great Aunt Zofia over there an aneurysm if she hears you!”

Roger quips: “Great Aunt Zofia stole the last kielbasa right out of my disabled, ineffectual  grasp, so fuck her.”

You all burst into shocked, uncontrollable laughter. Great Aunt Zofia squints judgmentally at the commotion from several tables away, gnawing on her kielbasa; she’s been glaring at John and Veronica—the Tetzlaffs’ very own fallen angel—since she first ambled into the church. Roger rocks back in his chair, smoking with his unbroken left arm, smirking cockily and basking in the distraction from the real world that the wedding has gifted you all tonight. He catches you watching him—marveling at him, truthfully—and winks.

John appears and rests his hands on the back of your chair. “What’s so amusing? I swear, I leave you people alone for two hours and you’re having all sorts of fun without me, I won’t stand for it!”

“It was a lovely ceremony,” you tell him. ���I’d forgotten how beautiful Catholic weddings are, all the music and ambiance.”

“And from what I saw, you knew most of the words.”

“We have a lot of Irish people in Boston. Saint Patrick’s Day is bigger than Christmas.”

John points at Roger’s cast. “It’s not paining you too much, is it?”

Roger holds his Dark ‘n Stormy aloft, and ice clinks in the misted glass. “Enough of these, and I can’t feel anything. Numb to the world’s many disappointments. I highly recommend it.”

“Noted,” John replies. Roger has pills for his arm, but they only take the edge off. You don’t know that because he’s told you; Roger never tells you that he’s hurting, that he’s frustrated, that he’s afraid. He wears grins and flippant humor like a second skin, shrouding his wounds—both physical and disembodied, old and new—in darkness. Still...you can see all those words he doesn’t say swimming in the depths of his eyes. “I think I’ll hunt down a Manhattan myself.”

“Dad made an impression!” you tell John enthusiastically. “I’ll have to let him know, he’ll be overjoyed.”

“He mixes a good one, that’s for sure. I doubt Cousin Bartosz will be able to compare.” He casts a glance at a perplexed-looking, flame-haired teenager manning a tiny wet bar.

“Booze won’t help you heal,” Freddie informs Roger, checking his reflection in Mary’s makeup compact and fluffing his lustrous hair. “Eat your vegetables. Get more sleep. When do you start physical therapy, again?” Then, to you: “Darling, when does Roger start his therapy?”

Roger sighs. “I’ve got it handled, Fred.”

“Dear, don’t have a fit, I just want to make sure you’ll be ready—”

“I’ve got it handled,” Roger repeats, his tone a warning.

Brian breaks the tension with a toast, his Vesper jangling against Roger’s Dark ‘n Stormy. “I’m thrilled, honestly. Now I’m not the only one who’s ruined a tour.”

Roger grimaces. “Thanks, Bri.”

“Yes, let’s all have a turn,” Freddie mutters, sipping champagne. “Deaky can electrocute himself while fiddling with his amp, and then I’ll...what? Have my foot chewed off by an alligator in New Orleans? Get gored by a wild boar outside Atlanta? It just can’t be a boring maiming, that’s my only request.”

“Alaska has grizzlies, huge ones,” Brian suggests.

“Darling, in what dimension would my luxurious self ever end up in fucking Alaska?”

You shake your head, frowning down into your wine glass. It’s June now, the dead center of a crestfallen year: the rest of the Sheer Heart Attack Tour is cancelled, the record company is furious, and the band is broker than ever. Queen is supposed to start recording their next album—their last album, the record company insists, unless it happens to be a runaway success—in July, but you don’t know if Roger’s arm will be healed in time. None of you know that. You wonder if this really is God’s house, or at least one of his homes, sanctified piles of bricks and glass scattered across the globe; maybe you could ask Him where Queen’s future lies.

Veronica swoops in and dusts an airy kiss onto Mary’s cheek, and then Chrissie’s, and then yours. “Thank you so much,” she gushes. Her high cheekbones are flushed, her watery eyes sparkling. She’s in heaven, sinner or not. Her massive white dress swishes with every step. “We couldn’t have done it without you. And you’re next, Chris! I can’t wait.”

Chrissie smiles. She and Brian are getting married just before Christmas. “Yes, well, time will tell if we’ll be serving Christmas ham or canned beans.”

“And then Mary...” Veronica’s gaze migrates across the table. Mary’s been wearing a ring on her wedding finger since Queen returned from Japan, a simple gold band that once belonged to Freddie’s mother. “What about you, Y/N? Any plans? Then we’d all be hitched!”

Red wine spurts from your lips and you fumble for a cloth napkin. Roger doesn’t believe in marriage, and neither do you; not after only four months together, anyway. And yet...is there some part of you that can’t help but think of papers and rings when you get lost in his eyes, of promises of forever, of some way to tie yourself to him like vessels to a heart? Sure; and that’s a little wonderful, that’s a little terrifying. “Uh, uh, oh, oh no, definitely no plans whatsoever.”

“What bollocks!” Rog sneers. “Really, what’s the point if you’re not religious? Who needs a bloody piece of paper to prove they love someone?! ‘I care for you so much I need the government to know we’re together and the hassle of divorce fees to make me stay,’ what the fuck. I mean, uh, no offense John, Bri, uh...this is all well and good for you, but...ah...”

“It’s just not your scene. That’s fine, Rog,” Freddie says with a tad too much empathy. Mary doesn’t seem to notice.

“But you’ll want children at some point, won’t you?” Veronica asks you, almost pained. She’s not trying to be cruel, you realize; she genuinely can’t fathom the pinnacle of a woman’s life as anything but being a wife and mother.

“Theoretically, sure. One day. Eventually.” You titter nervously. Roger’s good arm circles your shoulders, his cigarette lofting smoke. Oh, but wouldn’t he make beautiful children? You push that thought away. It’s too soon, it’s too much, it’s not in the cards for an impoverished maybe-drummer and his girlfriend; and a girlfriend—with all the intangibility and impermanence that title entails—is all I’ll ever be. “I think I need to travel the world a bit more first.”

John sighs and pats the back of Veronica’s hand. What is that weight in his voice...impatience? Annoyance? “Ronnie, please, don’t bother her.”

Veronica sulks, scraping the old scuffed linoleum floor with her pointy white heels. “I wasn’t trying to bother anyone...”

Mary comes to the rescue: “No, of course not. You didn’t, dear.” She likes Veronica more than Chrissie does. Isn’t she oppressively vapid? Chrissie has asked you more than once. Isn’t she so miserably naïve? Veronica is sweet, sure, but she has no fucking idea what she’s in for. “Babies are wonderful, but they do make things harder, don’t you think? Especially for the mother. You have to be ready to drop everything for them. All your other interests and aspirations.”

“I suppose,” Veronica mumbles. You can tell she’s thinking: What other aspirations?

“But you must be so excited!” You beam up at Veronica. It’s her wedding day, and John’s; it should be happy, it should be optimistic. And you’re learning to like Veronica—less than Mary, but more than Chris—because you know that’s the best thing for John.

She instinctively rests her hand on the swell of her belly; or, rather, where it must be somewhere beneath all those heaps of satin and tulle. Great Aunt Zofia’s glare intensifies. “I’m scared to death, to tell you the truth.”

“Why?!” Mary cries.

“I’m so afraid something will happen to him.” Veronica’s voice is soft, her blue eyes glassy. She’s certain the baby is a boy, claims she had some sort of dream about it. “There’s a lot of bad luck going around for us, isn’t there? And my mother lost four babies. Any time he stops moving, I worry constantly until my next appointment. I haven’t felt anything in days, and I just...I just...” She trails off, staring vacantly across the crowded church basement. She’s trying not to cry, you realize.

“I can try to check for you,” you offer. “If it would make you feel better.”

“Really?” Veronica sounds hopeful, but guardedly so.  

“This is embarrassing, but I carry my nurse kit almost everywhere I go now. That’s why I brought my huge blue purse even though it doesn’t match the dress. You know, you can’t be too careful...”

“Yes, who knows when someone will try something idiotic like jogging backwards down the stairs?” Freddie muses. Roger lobs a pierogi at him. Great Aunt Zofia wheezes out a disgusted huff and crosses her veiny, wrinkled arms over her sagging chest.

“I have a stethoscope,” you continue. “I can’t guarantee I’ll find a heartbeat, but I’ll give it a try if that would help.”

“Would you, Y/N?” Veronica clutches for John’s hand, and he lets her take it without any resistance; but he doesn’t seem to know how to comfort her. He has the same dazed look on his face that he has a lot these days, the same look that Bri and Freddie sometimes get: like they’re on autopilot, like they’re actively filtering through brainwaves to fish out any that wander astray. Roger lands a kiss on your bare shoulder and pitches you a playful smirk, his I’m so proud of my too-fucking-smart girlfriend smirk.  

You grab your purse from beneath the table. “Does God’s house have a cozy private spot somewhere?”

Veronica leads you, Mary, and Chrissie to a small unoccupied room that is used (how pertinently) as the church nursery. The pink wallpaper is dotted with waddling ducklings, cloud-shaped sheep leaping over fences, smiling suns and winged cartoonish angels. Veronica settles into a faded blue couch, and Mary and Chris help her shove aside the massive plumes of her wedding dress to reveal the plain shift she’s wearing underneath. She’s over five months along now, and her entirely unremarkable bump seems colossal on her delicate frame.

You pop the headset into your ears and press the chestpiece against Veronica’s unyielding belly, gliding it over the pearly shift as you try different positions.

“Anything?” Mary asks anxiously.

“It’s not bloody instant, Mary!” Chrissie snaps. “Be quiet so she can listen.”

“No need to be cranky—”

“You can’t find a heartbeat, can you?” Veronica says, her voice quivering. “Oh god...”

“Found it,” you announce. You hold the chestpiece in place as you yank the headset off and pass it to Veronica.

She gapes at you. “You’re just saying that so I’ll stop worrying, aren’t you?”

“Hear for yourself.”

Veronica takes the headset and listens, closing her eyes as the rapid-fire and rhythmic swishing of her child’s heartbeat floods through her ears. “Oh,” she breathes, beaming. “There he is.”

“That’s incredible!” Mary trills. “Can I hear too, Veronica? Whenever you’re finished...”

Mary listens, and Chrissie does too, and then you all help touch up Veronica’s hair and makeup before you head back to the reception. The cake is due to be cut in twelve minutes. As you smooth the short train on her dress, Veronica turns back to you.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” she asks timidly, hugging her belly. “You know...for this.”

“That’s something I’ve always liked about nursing. So many jobs require sorting out who’s right and wrong, casting judgment, assigning punishment. There’s no weighing of the moral scales in medicine. It doesn’t matter if a patient is trustworthy, deceitful, good, bad, worthy, undeserving, if they disappoint you, if they’re the ones who hurt themselves. You treat everyone, you heal everyone. And I would like to keep that part of myself for as long as I can.” You smile at Veronica. “But, for the record, no. I don’t think you’re a bad person at all.”

She sighs in relief, untethering an anchor she hadn’t even known she’d been dragging around by her throat. “Thank you,” she whispers, tears snaking down her powdered ivory cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on.”

“How do you feel about marble lion statues? You know, the ones at the end of long, winding driveways. Rich people’s driveways. Mansion driveways. Or do you prefer gargoyles?”

“Roger.”

He groans, grins, presses his right fist into your palm. You measure the force with your mind, with your muscle memory. He’s stronger than he was yesterday, the day before, last week. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Rog teases. “You’ve got a soft spot for damaged people. Helpless people. That’s why you warmed to Brian so quickly. He was lying there all gaunt and jaundiced and terrified, and you just couldn’t resist, you just had to make sure all his wildest dreams came true.”

“I have a soft spot for self-destructive musicians who end up in hospitals, evidently.” Your gaze cruises over the scar on Roger’s forearm where the surgeons popped his bones back into place, stabilized them, stitched the ragged gore closed. You hate looking at it; you hate reminders of how mortal Roger really is.

“I want lions,” Rog decides. “For the driveway of our eventual mansion. I like the Leo connection.”

“And the Queen crest connection.”

His grin widens, toothy and radiant. “See, I knew you were the love of my life.”

“Come on. Again.”

He winces this time. “Doesn’t hurt a bit.”

“Uh huh. I bet.” You’ve slathered his fresh blisters with numbing antiseptic ointment, iced his arm, administered pain medicine, allowed him the constant sips of alcohol necessary for him to work, to drum, to sleep. But he still hurts. You imagine he hurts all the fucking time.

It’s August now, and Queen is recording their fourth album at Rockfield Farm. You and Roger are sitting by the pool as Freddie splashes around in the clear chlorine-smelling water trying to get John’s attention. John, meanwhile, is lounging on an inflatable raft, wearing black sunglasses and most likely asleep. Brian circles the pool snapping photos with your Canon F-1.

“I have a plan,” Roger informs you as he starts his stretches without prompting. He knows the drill, even if he likes to be difficult about it.

“By all means, enlighten me.”

“Fred’s thing, the weird one. It has a name now.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah. Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Oh, it’s perfect!” You try to stay out of the band’s business decisions as much as possible; it’s not your expertise, and it’s not your place, and there are already a few too many creative chefs in that kitchen. Still, you love when they share their magic with you. “Eccentric, whimsical, exhilarating. Just like the song. Just like Queen.”

“I’m so glad you approve. We’re going to make sure it’s the first single off the album. And I know exactly what song’s going to be on the B-side. Freddie and Bri don’t know yet, but I do.”

“Sounds like they’re going to murder you when they find out.”

“I’ll convince them.” His grin is crafty, daring. “Picture it: you’ve just finished the incomparable experience that is Bohemian Rhapsody. You’re a newly converted Queen enthusiast. What could possibly come next? You flip the record over. And the virile, screeching, pure rock and roll passion of I’m In Love With My Car is there to greet you.”

“Oh my god, Roger.” You shake your head in mock mourning. “They actually are going to murder you.”

“Listen, love, BoRhap is going to be a hit. I can feel it.”

“Sure,” you agree lukewarmly. You want to be supportive, you really do. But disappointment stings more than resignation.

“It will be,” Roger maintains, unmovable. “And it’ll sell mountains and mountains of singles...and with my song on the B-side, I’ll get half the royalties. Which means we’ll get half the royalties.”

“Which is how we end up with the hypothetical mansion.”

“I’m being serious.” Roger picks up his mini barbell weights from the water-splattered concrete and begins his bicep curls, flinching each time he lifts his right fist.

“Rog—”

“I’m fine,” he insists. “I’m going to make this happen. I’m going to get rich so I can provide for my family. You know about that, you know it’s on my list. And my family includes you now.”

“I don’t need a mansion, Roger.” I just need you. You stare at his right arm worriedly. “Are you sure—?”

“I’m fine!” he shouts, and you recoil. Brian peers over from where he’s taking pictures of blooming purple foxgloves. Instantly, Roger regrets it. “I’m sorry,” he says, setting down the barbells and cradling your face with his rough, bandaged hands. “I have to be fine, you know? I don’t have a choice. If I can’t play, I can’t be in the band. If I leave, John will leave too, and that’ll be the end of everything. Or worse, John will break the pact and stay and they’ll find a new drummer and forget all about me. Sail off into some blissful new future. And where will I be? Moping as I drag myself back to dental school? Becoming a freaking lab biologist? Resigning myself to being some excruciatingly ordinary bloke, someone who climbed just far enough out of Cornwall to know everything he’s missing out on?”

You try to imagine who Roger would be without the band, but you can’t. You’ve never known a pre-Queen Roger. “No,” you say, amused. “You’ll never be just some ordinary bloke. You’re too brilliant, too determined. Even if you do have a dodgy arm.”

He kisses you, and you can feel his lips curling into a smile beneath yours. “So you’ll let me buy you a mansion.”

“If you get I’m In Love With My Car on the B-side, and BoRhap is a hit, and Freddie and Bri don’t smother you with a pillow in your sleep...yes, you can buy me a mansion. Buy us a mansion.”

He winks, his sapphire eyes glinting in the late-summer sunlight. “Watch out, baby. I get everything I want eventually.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s done,” John tells the others as he passes out copies of his new song, the second he’s ever written. There are only four sheets of crisp white paper; as you watch from the studio couch, you wonder what the song is about, why he didn’t mention it to you.

“It’s done?!” Brian yelps. “What do you mean, it’s done?! Nothing’s ever done after the first pass! That’s how it works, that’s how it always works, someone suggests something and then we all dice it and slice it and flip it around and stitch it back together like the world’s most maniacal surgeons, and then, only then, maybe, it’s done.”

You glance up from where you’re sewing an eleventh patch onto Roger’s jeans. “Must we disparage the medical profession?”

“Sorry, love,” Roger tosses to you with a laugh.                          

“It’s done,” John repeats.

“Deaky, darling,” Freddie ventures gently. “We should endeavor to keep our minds open to collaboration—”

“Oh, should we, Fred?!” Bri exclaims. “How extraordinary, you never seem to encourage collaboration when it’s your song on the cutting floor!”

“Okay space boy, you listen here—”

“‘I’m happy at home’?!” Roger reads, revolted. “We’re not the bloody Bee Gees, Deaks!”

John explains measuredly and patiently, as if to a child: “That’s the way it goes. We record it as it is or not at all.”

“That’s not how we do things,” Brian mutters, deep frown lines chiseled through his face as he scans the lyrics.

“Then just fill the album with your and Fred’s songs like you always do, I’m sure that’ll keep me and Roger loyal.”

Brian glares at John. John stares back stoically, his eyes like steel. Brian looks to Roger for support; Roger lights a cigarette and pretends not to notice.

“Darling, please, you’re not being reasonable!” Freddie pleads.

“I need it.” John turns to Roger now. “I need it to stay the way it is.”

Rog just watches him for a while, exhales smoke, shrugs. “Okay,” he says at last.

“Okay?!” Brian howls. “What do you mean, okay?!”

“He said he needs it,” Roger replies simply.

Bri throws his hands into the air. “Bleeding christ! ‘He needs it.’ What rubbish! Do something, Fred!”

“Oh relax, darling.” Freddie sashays to the microphone and points to Brian’s Red Special. “Let’s try it out.”

“But—!”

Roger claps Brian on the back as he trots by him towards the drum kit. “Come on, Bri. Big smiles. Just picture the nice shiny pounds from all those album sales plinking into your bank account. You’ll have fifty Christmas hams at the wedding, one for every guest.”

You listen passively from the couch as they rehearse, trying not to let on that you’re paying attention, trying not to overstep. But you can’t help being struck by the lyrics, feeling the somberness of Freddie’s voice and John’s tentative notes on the electric piano slink into your bones; because it sounds so familiar, because it echoes so many things that John has told you.

When Queen takes a mid-afternoon break and John slips into the kitchen for a Coke, you follow him.

“Hey John?”

“Yeah.” He rests his hands on the dining room table. They’re sturdy and unmarred and completely unlike Roger’s; and you aren’t sure why you notice this, but you do.

“I completely understand if I’m being intrusive, and if I am please just tell me to shut up and I will.”

He chuckles. “You’re never intrusive. Go ahead.”

“I was just wondering...who is You’re My Best Friend about?”

Now his smile evaporates. “No one in particular,” he says briskly. “It’s just a song. Just something to put on the album. Maybe a single one day. A soulless royalties grab.”

That seems unlikely. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He takes a swig of Coke, peers down at the table, traces swirls of centuries-old oak with his fingertips.

“It’s just...you know...well...it kind of sounded like...maybe it was about me.”

He looks up. And for the first time, John levels some of his infamous, razored words at you: “Don’t be such a fucking narcissist.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, John doesn’t apologize. But he smiles at you over tea, offers to clean off the fingerprints of strawberry jelly that Roger left on the Canon, splashes you from the pool as you sunbathe beneath lapis August skies. And you agree, wordlessly and unconditionally, to forgive him. Because John is your best friend, whether or not you’re still his.

Nine weeks later, Bohemian Rhapsody is released as a single. (And, as promised, Roger ensures that I’m In Love With My Car is on the B-side.)

Twelve weeks later, Bohemian Rhapsody reaches the #1 spot on the UK Singles Chart, and remains there for over two months.

Fifteen weeks later, A Night At The Opera becomes the #1 album in the UK.

Fifteen weeks later, Queen’s future is suddenly crystal clear.

[shinglescat]

Alright, so, ram modules that are about 3600Mhz is just enough, esp for 5xxx Ryzens. Then the more ram sticks you have, the better the performance thanks to the channels. God, my head is boiling from all this computer information.

Then Ryzen has something called Infinity Fabric, and it matters the most when it comes to AMD’s CPUs and memory; timings matter too, but seems like IF matters more. Still don’t exactly understand it, but it’ll be something to think about once I actually have the new pc.

Rant goes below.

Then there are PSUs. Man, I wanted a Fractal Design build like a dumbass I am, but... their PSUs are not so good when it comes to oscillations, and that’s a big thing apparently for stability. Looked at all the reviews about ion gold, decided to switch back to the Cougar PSU I bought last year, and then decided to switch to a be quiet! PSU because of the CPU I chose... but something tells me I may actually revert back to my Cougar and buy the second one. AAAAAAA

Then there’s mobo. The first one I picked was ASUS ROG STRIX B550-A, because good VRMs and heatsinks on them. And watercooling compatibility. Then it’s 4 gen PCI-E, but whatever, ‘cause I picked gen 3 SSD, and the video cards don’t utilize gen 4 in full. Also its heatsinks are whitish. And I’m a girl. And I want pretty things. Like an idiot, I chose the mobo based on looks, what a retard, but I can’t make myself get me one of those ugly shroud-less mobos, I’ve had enough with my current one, SO UGLY. Luckily, the mobo doesn’t seem to be faulty. Then I heard people recommend MSI B550A PRO for 5xxx CPUs. Picked one, granted it also costs 7k lower than the strix. And everything would be okay, but turns out this mobo has a lot of failures. So I went back to strix. Also, initially, a year ago or so I wanted an MSI board, something-something ace meg whatever with SLI compatibility. But they’re gone, and SLI’s dead, and games don’t really support SLI anyways. So lucky me here, otherwise I’d spend more on the mobo like an idiot I am.

Anyways. Since my mobo is white, I changed my FD case to white, lmao, it’s also couple rubles cheaper than the black one. Also note - I hate RGB stuff, and there’s not glass panel in the case I picked, it’s just solid block of metal... So why the idiot me needs a pretty motherboard? Logic, but I can’t fight it, I want me a pretty thing.

And I changed my AIO, which is FD Celsius S36 to Noctua NH-15D. Had a fight here with myself, ‘cause the AIO looks nice, and the NH-15D looks ass ugly in Noctua’s brand colors; Celsius performs slightly better than the NH-15D, and... THREE FANS. Wanted to place it in front of the case, but then... evaporation is a thing. Fuck it, went with the Noctua, esp since I found it in stock in black, yay. Then again, watercooling is good for short bursts of temperature spikes, then it equalizes and performs maybe worse than an air cooler. So Noctua it is.

Then come SSDs. Fuck me. That’s just hard to pick, there are so many drives. Initially I planned on a 512 GB Samsung 970 PRO because it’s probably last of the MLC guys when everyone went for TLC and QLC. But it’s pricey as fuck. Reliable, but pricey. With great tears I swapped it to an Aorus SSD. Same capacity, but TLC, similar speeds, similar write span, only almost 4k cheaper. But it’s new, no reviews whatsoever, kinda sus. So I just sat and thought about this all and went for a 512 GB NVMe WD Blue, ‘cause I don’t really need it besides having the OS installed on it and all that. And it’s cheaper. And I’m not going to be writing anything on it myself, it’s all for Windows.

Ha, also found some cheap memory sticks at a retail electronics store, 64 GBs of ram would cost me around 20k. 3000Mhz, low timings, could forgive it having rgb lighting. Next day I open their internet store and... there goes my el-cheapo HyperX. Send everything to hell and opted for four sticks of G.Skill RIPJAWS V 3600Mhz CL18. Gonna be fun making it marry the air cooler.

Damn, HDDs got pricey, thanks to the chia mining. Wanted a WD Gold, had it bookmarked, it was around 12 to 14 grand before, and now it’s just unobtanium with its price. Fuck it. And el-cheapo ones, a-la barracudas and blues got more expensive. But I need me some storage, for went for a 2TB WD Blue anyways... and for a Seagate SkyHawk, 1TB.  

Man, I wish someone else would pick me parts and build the thing, but last time my father bought one (not for me ofc, I’m the devil child, even tho I eventually took over it), it almost fried my new shiny 2080 thanks to a cheapfuck of a PSU.

Do not ever cheap out on PSUs, ever.

Also got me a single high static pressure Noctua fan (but it’s black, ugh, and the case fans are white) for the video card cooling. Dunno if it’s going to fit in between the PSU and HDD cage in the end, but if not - it’ll have to do on the front panel in the middle of two white fans pushing air to the 2080. At least the case doesn’t have a glass panel. And finally no fans with light, I swear I hate my shitty Thermaltake fan with passion - it shines blue through the small window on the side panel of the case like a beacon it is, no way to turn it off (except for smashing it, but I ain’t no barbarian).

Low key regretting I went for the bachelor in civil and industrial engineering instead of electric stuff, would’ve been so much easier for me now, lmao.

Hoping I won’t change my mind yet again about the parts, tho honestly I really want to wait till the DDR5 hits the market, and AMD releases their DDR5 compatible CPUs, but I don’t want to wait a year, and then DDR5 will be a lot more expensive than DDR4... and I just can’t wait, I need me more power and less bottlenecks.

UWU

Fuck I’m excited for it. Also dreading it, never dealt with PGA CPUs, wonder how fragile the pins are.

Also, I’m finally excited for a game, ready to shit-piss my pants. Stalker 2 is coming next year, baby! Gotta get me that retail version of the game to put it in my Stalker collection... 

[hitchell-mope]

(Third film. At Evie’s house. Mal has very recently just fainted in midair due to fatigue, turned back into a human, and fell through the sky, landing upside down by her legs on a branch in a tree located in her sister front garden)

Evie (looking disapprovingly you at the elder demigod): you’ve not eaten since breakfast have you?

Mal: if by “eaten” you mean “surreptitiously take swigs of booze from my hip flask intermittently throughout the day” then yes

Evie: I do not

Mal: ohhhh. Then no. No I have not

Celia: and you couldn’t have been more obvious if you tried

Uma: Ceels is right. I saw you. Twice.

Mal: damn you guys sure know how to raise a girl up. Help me down?

Evie: you can fall perfectly well all by yourself

Mal: urgh, fine

(With a little struggle and a quick, extremely high pitched yelp, she shifts off the branch and falls to the ground and land on her back with a pained grunt)

Evie: now was that so difficult?

Mal: dad will judge you eventually. And he may not be so merciful.

Evie: A. He’s not my dad. B. Get up before you’re clothes are dusted beyond repair

(Just then Uma shrieks and throws a frog off her head)

Evie (snickering): really? You’re scared of frogs? Isn’t that part of you powers. Communication with sea life?

Uma: yeah sea life not pond life that jumped up bastard is not my guy

Evie: funny, I’d have thought you’d like them consider you’re dating one

Uma (laughing mirthlessly): and don’t you share blood with him?

Evie: urgh don’t remind me

Mal: hate to break up the familial bonding but is anyone scared and/or allergic to locusts?

Celia: no

Uma: no

Evie: no, why do you ask?

Mal: because a swarm of them is headed this way

(She’s right. A huge cloud of locusts are speeding right towards them. Mal takes out the sceptre and sets it into the ground, sending the swarm away from them)

Celia: what the hell was that about?

Mal: oh I think I have an idea

(Back in the forest)

Harriet: what the fuck

Cj: Jesus

Harry: what is that?

Hades: cinders.

Elsa: what?

Adam: well. You did say I was hiding behind religion

Ben: speak properly or not at all

Adam: you saw the movie, you’ve heard the stories and you have been to church

Jay: you’re joking!

Adam: why would I joke about your imminent destruction?

(Back at Evie’s)

Mal: this is gonna sound patently ridiculous, (she whacks a frog off Uma’s head), but I think, oh god how do I put this? I think

Celia: Red Sea?

Mal: yes! Ohhhh thank god for the youth

Celia: I’m thirteen

Mal: I was hatched old kid.

Evie: what do we do?

Mal: block them

(Back in the forest)

Gil: what do we do

Ben: block them

Adam: if you’d left those things where they belong this wouldn’t be happening

Ben: what?

Adam: it’s an environmental reaction to their abominable presence

Ben: it’s Maleficent!

Adam (snarling): exactly

(This is when “the plagues” happens. After the song the onslaught is still happening)

Uma: fuck lot of good that did genius. Any other bright ideas?

Mal: who has the ember?

Her sister and cousins: YOU DO

Mal: right! Yes. Of course. Hands in. Chop chop

(They all put their right hands over the ember and it starts to glow)

Mal: you've caused our friends pain and fear/we've had enough now disappear

(Nothing happens)

Mal: it’s not gonna work if you’re not gonna help. Again

The sisters rotten and the sisters Facillier: you've caused our friends pain and fear/we've had enough now disappear

(The onslaught ceases. The rogs and locusts turn to ash. Back in the forest the raining fire wafts away)

Ben: Mal

Jay: who else?

Harry: uhhhh, Uma, duh

Lonnie: Uma wishes she was as cool as Mal

Elsa: Lonnie, please, not now

Lonnie: ok. Cool. The girls are at Evie’s house right?

Jay: yeah

Lonnie: good. This Uma chick is with them yeah?

Carlos: ...yes...

Lonnie: aces. I want some words with her

Ben: Lonnie don’t please

Lonnie: no, Ben, I’m sorry. But this chick abducted you, tried to kill you, hypnotised you and tried to capsize the boat the entire student body was on. I think that warrants a dragging. Don’t you?

Harry: if you hurt her

Lonnie: what are you gonna do jar jar? Flirt at me? Yeah didn’t think so. C’mon guys. Oh Ben. Love the wings and the beard.

Ben (feeling his teeth with his tongue): I think I got fangs as well

Lonnie: can you believe this guy. King of an entire nation, almost pure magic and still inordinately adorable. How does he do it? Not as adorable as you though Gilly

Gil: YAY!

(Harry growls in irritation. They start to move. Unbeknownst to them Adam whisked away by purple smoke. Back at Evie’s palace she’s itching to get inside. Sadly for her. She’s got a clingy reptile hanging on to her ankle)

Evie: c’mon M let go. I could always kick you into the foliage?

Mal (reassuming her regular form): I have a bad feeling about who’s waiting for us in there

Evie: it’s Doug. My Doug. I’m sure he’s fine.

Mal: sis look. The way you reacted to seeing Doug in the mirror. It’s gonna be a lot worse to seeing him like that in person.

Evie: so you obviously don’t me all that well then “sis”

(She stalks off inside the house)

Mal: sadly I do know that well. (Turning to the Facillier’s) look. I’m not expecting you guys to go in there with us

Uma (already heading inside): way ahead of ya

Mal: you’re eager

Uma: don’t wanna miss the kaboom

(Inside the house. Evie’s poking and prodding Doug’s dude futilely)

Evie: c’mon sweetie stop playing around it’s time to wake up now

Uma: not as fun as I thought it was gonna be

Mal: she’s in shock. Once her body and brain catch up with each other. It’ll be horrible

Uma: but it’s a sleeping curse. She knows how to wake him up.

Mal: she’s emotionally involved ok? Like I said. Body and brain haven’t caught with each other yet

Celia: oh no

Mal: what?

Celia: uhhhh nothing. Hey, Uma, why don’t we go see the pool?

Uma: what’s that

Mal (following Celia’s line of sight and cottoning on): yes! The pool! The pool is great. And the hot tub is just what someone like us needs after a day like today

Celia: exactly so c’mon sis. Let’s go for a dip

Uma: I’ve spent a year in the ocean. I don’t need to go back into some more water. Now what are you trying to keep me from?

Celia and Mal: it doesn’t matter

Mal (telepathically to Celia): keek her away from the couch (verbally) I’ll try and pry Evie off her man

Uma (her voice very small): no

Celia: ohhhh fuck

Mal (walking over to Evie and gently trying to pull her away): c’mon kiddo. You need a breather

Evie (thickly): no, I’m not leaving him

Mal: you need to eat, you need to drink. If you’re stressing out you’ll be no help to him.

Evie (stubbornly): I’m not leaving

Uma: WHY IS THERE ONLY ONE OF THEM!!!!!!!!!!

Celia: and there we go

Mal: c’mon you can’t help him when you’re like this

(She starts pulling Evie away from Doug. Evie starts screaming and crying begging Mal to leave her there. Celia tries to do the same to Uma who starts screaming and crying demanding to know why only one twin is on the couch. Eventually it gets too much for the temporary queen)

Mal: ok that’s it. Both of you FREEZE. That’s better. Celia. Reconvene in the kitchen

(In the kitchen)

Celia: what is her problem? It’s a curse. She knows what to do. True loves kiss. It’s not that difficult

Mal: well it is if you have their combined dating history

Celia: yeah she dated the dick that’s trying to kill us. Juice please. Thank you. Merlot? Really?

Mal: my hip flask ran out. Fry up?

Celia: sure. Wait what do you mean combined dating history?

Mal: Doug is amazing and kind and attractive and will defend those he cares about to his final breath. But Dopey’s son.

Celia: ohhhh. He’s like dizzy.

Both: kid of a sidekick

Mal: and here. The social hierarchy was: Prince, Princess, hero, heroine, sidekick

Celia: poor guy.

Mal: yeah. So you’ve got. Brainwashed girl who feels compelled to throw herself at a royal douchebag. Douche bag ghosts her. She’s heartbroken, despite me jay and Carlos spending days trying push her to the better and accurate option of Doug,

Celia: as you do

Mal: right. Then you have Doug. He’s Harry Potter and lifes Dudley Dursley

Celia: what

Mal: I’ll let him explain that reference. Anyway. Because of what they’ve each gone through separately. They’re wracked with insecurity. Because there’s that niggling feeling that they’ll get heartbroken again

Celia: so what do we do?

Mal: I need to be the responsible big sister and kick her ass into gear

Celia: and me?

Mal: put a blanket on Squirmy he looks cold and try to make sure your sister doesn’t burn this place to the ground with us inside

Celia: smart plan

Mal: hold on I’m getting a call. Mal here. Jay. You found him! Oh thank god. Good that’s good. Whoever said that about my son needs a kick in the dick. Oops. Sorry hadie. What? Bastards. Squirmy’s here. Asleep and aortaless. But he’s here. Dizzy’s fine. That’s just Celia whooping. Merlot. Well the hip flask ran out. Yes I did. I know I should’ve. But I didn’t. Mom and————whatever she does to him he’ll survive and isn’t her fault. Ohhhh. Oh yeah. Yeah. I froze them. She’s heavy. Not good. At all. Oooh I dunno. Two hours. Surprise? Oh I see. This is why you didn’t FaceTime? Thought as much. Well. See you when we see you. Love ya. Bye. Got all that kid?

Celia: essentially, yeah

Mal: good. Now take Uma’s sword off her. Knowing her she’ll start swinging the nearest weapon once she’s reanimated

Celia: and Evie?

Mal: oooooh. Put a protection spell on Squirmy in case the windows shatter

Celia: done. Ready?

Mal: god no. But when have I ever been?

(They go back to their positions and Mal unfreezes the sorceress and the sea witch. Immediately the two of the resume their breakdowns. Uma peters our first and dissolves into tears. Evie keeps screaming at Mal to let her go until her voice goes horse)

Mal: are you done?

(Evie grumpily shoves Mal off her and stalks outside to the back garden)

Mal: Uma what about you? Need a drink (Evie lets out a skyward scream and the windows all shatter to dust)...Celia honey, could you be very very helpful to your very very tired cousin and clean up the glass?

(Her right eye twitches and Celia reverses tne damage)

Mal: thank you. Uma. Drink?

Uma: mhmm

(She sits Uma at the kitchen island and pours her a glass of wine)

Mal: thought you might be fed up with grog and muskat. The I’m more partial to rosé but red is Gil’s favourite.

Uma: I’m s. Suh. Rry (Celia elbows her in the ribs) I’m sorry

Mal: why? You were stuck with you’re mother for a year. That must’ve been hell for you. At least you know who what was unconscious for it. But you remember everything. If anything it should be me apologising to you

Uma: you said that back on the ship

Mal: and I’ll keep saying it until you tell me to shut it

Uma: Mal

Mal: yah?

Uma: shut it

Mal: ookay

Uma: what’re you gonna do about her?

Mal: I’ll let E cool off then try to talk sense into her.

Uma: shouldn’t it be easy though? TLK. It worked with you and beasty boy last year. So why can’t she.

Mal: I have literally just filled Celia in on their joint history. You wanna know why she’s distraught, ask your sister. Now. Drink.

Uma: mm this is good

Mal: beats grog don’t it?

Uma: yeah. More?

Mal: sure

Celia: I’ll just take a lil snifter of brandy

Uma and Mal: dream on kid

Celia: bitch

Mal: we’re you’re family

Uma: we’re allowed to be

Mal: you know. If Grimhilde hadn’t sent Evie after us. And I hadn’t, you know

Uma: yeah, we could’ve teared the isle up.

Mal: two sets of juvenile delinquents

Uma: one massive conflagration

Mal: more?

Uma: ehhhhh. Go on then

(This is when “old fashioned” happens. After the song Mal stops and looks outside)

Mal: I should probably go check on her right?

Celia: you do that and I’ll stay here

Uma: under the watchful eye of your older sister

Celia: fuck

(Mal goes outside to Evie who’s sitting in the gazebo)

Mal: hiya.

Evie: what’s wrong with me?

Mal: how much time have ya got?

Evie: I’m being serious here. A year and a half with Doug and I can’t say it.

Mal: it took me a while to say it to Ben

Evie: six months. Compared to eighteen that’s pretty damn quick.

Mal: Don’t measure your own relationship with you’re own boyfriend by mine and my fiancé’s. Remember what Professor Porter said in science class. No two people are alike

Evie: Archimedes Q Porter is a living remnant of the Victorian era. And as such. He is full of shit half the time.

Mal: oh c’mon sis. Porter was your favourite teacher. After the other guy got done for exam favourtism. Good job on that by the way. Never liked him. Smarmy ass little bastard.

Evie: it was Doug who told on him. There was literally no way in hell chad got a 100% on a test he never studied for. It also got Royston booted off the board of governors.

Mal: finally. So. Wanna talk it out?

Evie: no. It’s just that

(She sighs. This is when “safer” happens. After the song Evie looks at Mal in shock)

Evie: what?

Mal: don’t kiss him. Let him slumber. When we off the maniacs the curse will end and Doug will wake up. Of course he’ll be heartbroken. But at least you won’t have failed. Right?

Evie: how, how COULD YOU! I can’t just leave him like this. He’s my boyfriend. I love him!

Mal: and there’s your answer. Ouch! Ooo!

(Evie just slapped her around the face. Then she hugs her)

Evie: you’re a bitch you know that right?

Mal: yes. I think you may have mentioned it before

Evie (pulling away): a giant scaled covered purple soon to be shedding bitch

Mal: and your fourth fifths of the way to becoming a suburban housewife

Evie: why is that an insult?

Mal: I dunno. Saw it on a britcom. Noe go. Go girl go. Save your Robert Phillip

(Evie lets out a happy shriek and rushes back into the house)

Vision!Ben: you did a good thing

Mal: just hope the end result is desirable for all concerned.

Ben: understandable. Doug is one if you’re closest friends.

Mal: he’s first and foremost Ben’s in the entire goddamn world. It’ll kill Ben if he doesn’t wake up. Now if you’ll excuse me I gotta go out some ice on my ol’ cheek here. Sorceress packs a punch.

(She walks back to the house. In the mirror world Doug and vision!Evie have arrived back at the mirror in Evie’s workshop. With a front row seat to his own unconscious body)

Evie: she’s here! Oh yes finally

Doug: oh thank god.

Evie: there’s probably still time for a small amount of and I’m looking at your face and I’m seeing that there isn’t.

Doug: I’m sorry. It’s just that I know your true form is me. It’d just be too weird

Evie (same time as him): too weird. I understand. Physical manifestation of your girlfriends subconscious who’s true form is yourself isn’t exactly the greatest claim to fame is it?

Doug:...please don’t make me answer that

Evie: ah yeah. The clone incident. (Perking up). We should replicate that

Doug (talking over her): no we shouldn’t. Never again (he walks right up to the mirror). C’mon E. Please. I know you can do it. Please.

Evie: it will work

Doug: you don’t know that. Neither of us know that. (To the real world). Please Evie. Honey. Just say it. Say something. Please. Or just a kiss. It doesn’t even need any gravitas. Just shove our lips together. That’ll do it. Just please do something. She’s hesitating

Evie: that shouldn’t be happening. C’mon kid. Do it. Oh god. I’m so sorry sweetheart. This is where I leave you

(She turns back into Doug, jumps out of the mirror and cuffs Evie around the back of the head)

Evie: OW! What was that for?

V!Doug: hesitating.

Evie: I’m scared. I love him. But I’m scared.

Doug: oh good god almighty. You’re impossible you know that right?

Evie: mhmm.

Doug: you know what? Fine. Bimble however long you like. I am going back into the mirror and comforting your boyfriend. Auf Widershein

Evie: I’m so so sorry. You deserve better

(In the mirror)

Doug: but you’re the best.

V!Evie: it could take some time dear.

Doug: so what do we do?

Evie: we wait

(This is when “say something” happens. After the song, in the real world, Evie crouches down beside Doug)

Evie: how do I start this? I guess I should just come right out and say it. I love you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re going through this. I’m sorry I let you stay here. I’m sorry I didn’t stay. And I’m sorry if you ever thought I didn’t love you. Because I do. And I’m kicking myself for letting you stay here. I should’ve brought you with me. Screw the twins you’re more important (she dodges a vodka bottle) NOT NOW UMA! I’M SPILLIMG MY HEART PUT TO MY BOYFRIEND HERE IF YOU DON’T MIND! Idiot girl. The fact of the matter is. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me Doug. I’m sorry it took so long for me to say it. That’s on me. Not you. I love you. I always will.

(This is when “never knew I needed happens”. After the song, she kisses him. In the mirror vision Evie kisses him as well)

V!Evie: see you on the other side my dear one

Doug: you too

(Doug fades away from the mirror world and wakes up in the real world with a jolt. He sits up, strokes Evie’s cheek and pulls her into a hug)

[bensroger]

Feelings - Ben Hardy! Roger Taylor

Summary: Roger doesn’t hate Y/N, even though it appears so. He’s distant and doesn’t pay much attention to her, even though once upon a time they were best friends. However it may seem that he hates you, he knows he doesn’t and it’s killing him.

Word Count: 5033

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This kind of seems boring at first, so bare with me! I spent a lot of time on this one and it’s kind of long so I hope you at least like it a bit. I know this isn’t really realistic but if I’m honest, which fic is? Anyway, hope you like it! Feedback always helps too! This is a bit different from my writing usually... Also please excuse any errors!

Roger doesn’t hate you. At least, he thinks he doesn’t.

Everyone else seems to think that he hates you, because that’s the way he acts. You yourself are still unsure why Roger hates you. You don’t ever remember doing anything to be rude to him, not once.

You had known the band since their Smile days, and have always been close to Freddie. You both shared an interest and passion for clothes, and you even studied fashion design in college. Once the band starting gaining momentum and became more known, Freddie asked you to be their stylist.

And of course you accepted; It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to see the world, and a great time to be with your friends since you were close with most of boys. Keyword being most. You knew Freddie was capable of choosing their own stage outfits; they all were, but you know he just used it as an excuse to keep one of his best friends close.

So here you were, a fashion stylist for a world famous band, traveling the US with your friends, and having the time of your life.

Brian and John were both ecstatic for you to be joining the tour as their stylist, and they had both grown closer to you. You were constantly around the band, even during rehearsal, acting their audience, cheering when Freddie asked you to. You loved what you did, you loved your friends, and you were happy, except for when you weren’t.

Roger was your biggest issue. He hated you, and that hurt. Brian always told you to ignore his comments or his scoff every time you’d walk in the room. But you couldn’t. You knew Roger better than you’d like to admit. You could tell when he was lying and when he was nervous. You of course knew what type of clothing he liked to wear, and went to great lengths to make sure he liked what he was wearing. However, no matter how much effort you put into him, Roger never seemed pleased.

The part that bothered you most was that Roger used to be a friend. A really close friend, in fact. You had so many memories of him, so many laughs. You talked to him a lot about your issues, and in turn, so did he. He was almost as good of a friend as Freddie back then. And then one day, it was different. Roger barely looked in your direction, and spoke coldly to you. There no more laughs, no more deep conversations, nothing. For many months, you sadly kept trying to talk to him, ask him what’s wrong, tell him you still care about him, but you were only met with eyerolls and shrugs. So eventually, you stopped trying and caring. That was years ago, though, and now your former friendship was simply a faint memory. Roger hated you.

He was a womanizer, flirting with every girl he met and instantly liking them. He could never walk away from a woman without giving her a smile or flirting. But he couldn’t care less for you, didn’t even bat an eye.

Roger never greeted you the way he greeted other’s and the only reason he was around you was because he had to be. You couldn’t but wonder what a hug or quick kiss on the cheek would be like from him. But he didn’t hate you, because if he hated you, he would’ve said something incredibly snide that he wouldn’t mind if you heard. Roger doesn’t hate you because he actually really likes the outfits you make for them, in fact he loves them.

But still Roger knew he felt something toward you, because whenever you walked in the room he’d automatically roll his eyes or scoff, and you took note of it.

Freddie was sitting across from you at table on the bus as you two were playing Scrabble. It was your turn, and Freddie was saying your name repeatedly but you couldn’t hear him. You were looking at Roger, who was asleep with some tall and skinny blonde girl cuddled up next to him, herself asleep, too. You were lost in thought–trying to remember of some awful thing you had done to him.

Freddie looked at you, feeling sorry that you had to put up with Roger. “Y/N, don’t worry about him. We all know Roger is a dick.” He said, smiling at you.

With a sigh and a shake of your head you responded, “You’re probably right.”

                                                       *********

“Why do you hate Y/N?” Brian frowned at Roger, a few hours later, talking quietly enough for nobody else to hear. “All she has ever done is help you and be kind to you. You even used to be friends.”

Roger shook his head and pulled the cigarette away from his lips. “I don’t hate her.” He muttered.

“Then why are you always so rude to her? We all see it, Rog. She only wants to help you. She goes out of her way for you all the damn time.” Brian shook his head.

Roger looked over in your direction, a smile on your face as laughed as something Freddie had said. Something in chest tightened, and he ran his fingers through his. “I’m just not very fond of her is all.” He frowned, facing Brian now.

“She’s practically an angel… Has Y/N done something to you?” Brian said, still pestering him. Roger let out an audibly groan as Brian was still talking about you. You snapped your heard once you heard him, and your smile quickly faded to an expression he couldn’t read. You looked away after a few seconds.

Roger sat there at the back of the bus, he ran his hands through his hair again; one of his tells for when he was nervous or lying. He himself didn’t know why he wasn’t fond of you. Maybe it was because you cared too much for everyone, because you were always so kind and sweet to everyone you met. He wasn’t sure. Roger didn’t know what to say, so his only response was a shrug. Brian shook his head at this.

A few more hours later, and you had finally arrived in the ever-busy city of Los Angeles. You stepped into the beautiful and lavish hotel lobby, taking in your surroundings. You looked over at Roger, the girl from the bus still glued to his side, and you rolled your eyes. Brian came back from the front desk, an annoyed look rested on his face. “They overbooked the hotel… The idiots. So we’ll have to be sharing rooms. John, Freddie, and I can only squeeze into the suite since it’s the biggest so that leaves Y/N with…” Brian paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “Roger.”

Roger didn’t say anything, although he was displeased, he figured there wasn’t anything to do in the moment. As he walked away toward the elevator, Brian leaned down to reach your height. “If you don’t want to be with him I’d understand. Any of us wouldn’t mind switching…” He said quietly.

You gave Brian a smile. “It’s just for two nights Bri, but thank you.” You said, picking up your bags and following Roger’s footsteps. You were the only two people in the elevator after Freddie, John, and Brian had gotten off at the third floor. An awkward and uncomfortable silence filled the elevator. “Do you know what floor we’re on?” You asked Roger, pushing your hair behind your ear, something you did whenever you were anxious.

“The eighth.” He said in quiet voice, only looking ahead at the doors in front of him. You looked down at your feet, and softly sighed. There was a ding and the two doors in front of you opened.

Roger stepped in front of, and headed down the hall. You followed behind him, your bags still in your hands. He stopped in front of the door, and wordlessly unlocked it. As you both stepped inside, you froze once you saw the single bed. “Would it have killed them to at least get two beds?” You mumbled. “Whatever, sharing shouldn’t be to-”

“One of us gets the bed, one of us gets the floor, how does that sound?” He interrupted, not giving you a chance to speak.

“Alright.” You sighed. Your eyes darted toward the bed, debating whether or not you should demand you sleep there. However, your kind hearted nature got the best of you once you remember how bad Roger’s back would hurt after some shows. So, with a sigh you said, “I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

Roger contemplated arguing with you on that, because he had planned to sleep on the floor, but he knew you wouldn’t make him take the floor. He only nodded, and then threw his belongings on the bed, and quickly left the room to go God knows where. You just shook your head and muttered under your breath, “Asshole.”

You started to put your makeshift bed together, hoping it’d take Roger some time to get back. You threw a few extra blankets you had got from a maid down the hallway. You took one of the many pillows and threw it down, sighing at the poor mess of a “bed” in front of you. There was a knock at the door, and you got up from your “bed,” and prayed it wasn’t Roger and that he forgot his key or something. You unlocked the door and swung it open. “Freddie!” You beamed. “What are you doing up here?”

“Well we’re just all in our room, talking about possible songs, and we wanted to see if you and Roger wanted to join? Although I don’t suppose you care much for lyrics but we just didn’t want to leave you alone.”

You shook your head and let out a small laugh, “Well you’re a tad late, I’ve been alone for the past fifteen minutes. Roger left to go do something…” You paused for a moment, and frowned. “Or someone, I guess. He left without saying a word.”

Freddie said. “Alright, but would you still like to join us darling?”

“Of course, it’s better than sitting than sitting on my so-called bed.” You said, gesturing toward the mess of blankets.

Freddie sighed. “I’m so sorry Y/N. Roger can be such–“

“No, I was the one who offered to sleep on the floor.” You interrupted Freddie. Still, he gave you a pitiful look.

                                                  *********

The boys were, as Freddie said, just talking about songs and lyrics for the album they were working on. You just sat there, fiddling with the gold bracelet around your wrist. Finally, you stood up and said, “Would any of you like something from the coffee shop across the street?”

“Yeah sure.” Brian smiled. Once you got their orders, you headed down to the lobby. The sun was about to start setting, but the heat outside remained. The coffee shop wasn’t too crowded since nobody really wanted coffee on a hot day. The fan overhead spun slowly and there were a few people inside.

At the counter after you ordered and were about to pay, a man behind you reached over and set his money on the counter. “I got this,” he told the barista with a wink, and she nodded and headed off to make the drinks.

“No it’s okay, I can p–“ You began.

“Hey, just let me pay for it okay? As long as you promise to sit down with me. I gotta admit, your accent intrigues me.” He remarked.

You rolled your eyes with a grin. You thought about it for a moment, and maybe making a new friend wouldn’t hurt. “Alright, I suppose. I’m Y/N.”

The man extended his hand to you. “I’m Derek.” He said, a charming smile on his face.

You talked for him for longer than you should’ve. But he was a local, living in Los Angeles for a few months to pursue a career in acting. You were skeptic to tell him about your own job yourself, but he didn’t freak out one bit upon hearing that you were Queen’s stylist. You hated to admit how charming and kind he was, Derek could make you laugh. “Let me show you around the city, the sunset is beautiful.”

You just shook your head. “I really should be heading back, I got these coffees for them and they’ve got to be wondering where I am.”

“Then we could drop them off really quickly. You said you lived across the street? It’ll be no trouble.”

Derek said.

You took one look at him and felt your heart skip a bit. “Okay, I can’t say no to you.”

One the way to the hotel he told you about a big role in a movie he was up for, and Derek’s eyes lit up as he spoke. You smiled at him. You knocked on Freddie’s door and he swung it open with a surprised smile. “Y/N, we were starting to worry.”

You handed him the tray of coffees. “Sorry these might be cold. I got so caught up talking to Derek. Anyway, he’s going to show me around the city, so I’ll see you later?” You said beaming, glancing at Derek.

Freddie gave you a knowing look, and then grinned. “Oh okay, be careful, we’ll see you Y/N.” He quickly slammed the door, leaving you two alone.

After that, Derek showed you the sunset from his apartment building’s roof, and it was breathtaking. You sat there for an hour, looking up at the stars after the sun had set, the sky was so clear. You could talk to him for hours, and you don’t if you craved a new friend or if you had just been deprived of this interaction, but Derek really made you open up.

He took you to a semi-fancy restaurant that had an hour long wait, but Derek said his friend worked there so he was able to get you two in. The night went by in a blur, filled with laughs and smiles and anything that’d make you feel butterflies in your stomach. After that, you and Derek just talked at his apartment, where you actually spent some time venting about Roger and the annoying demands of your job, like working with high-profile designers. They were so snobby…

It was close to 11pm when Derek finally said goodbye, with a kiss on the cheek, and a crumpled napkin with his number scribbled across it. You stood outside your hotel room as he walked away, the smile never leaving your face. Your bit your lip excitedly as you walked inside, your smile quickly fading.

Roger turned his toward you as you walked in, and frowned. “Where’ve you been?” He said, and for a moment you thought he might be worried… But you soon brushed the thought off–That was impossible.

“Just out with a friend, that’s all.” You said, shuffling to your bed, trying to find your pajamas in your luggage.

Roger thought for a moment. “You went out with Fred? I bet he bought you all these clothes and everything.” It was meant as insult, you could tell by the tone of his voice. Freddie did buy you things from time to time, especially things you couldn’t afford on your salary, but you never asked him to. He always insisted.

You took in a deep breath in. “Actually, no. I met a man named Derek and he took me to see the city.” Roger scoffed, and shook his head. “What is it now?” You said, annoyed with his constant judgment.

“You can just say you slept together, there’s no shame in that. I’m not gonna judge you.” He said, amused. You felt mocked, and felt your cheeks turn red.

You turned around to face him, your cheeks still burning. “When I have sex with someone, I actually bother to get to know them first, unlike you. And for the record, I didn’t sleep with him. He took me to dinner and to see the city, as I said.” You spat at him. You picked up your pajamas and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you, not giving him a chance to torment you further. You looked at yourself in the mirror and let out a sad sigh.

Roger looked at the door you had slammed behind you, and then looked down at his feet, his hands clenched into fists. He didn’t mean to upset you, he never did. Roger hated the thought of this “Derek” making you laugh and smile. Most of all, he hated this feeling he wasn’t used to, the feeling of anger at the thought of you with someone else.

When you finally changed, brushed your teeth, and washed your face, you exited the bathroom, prepared to fight with Roger again. However, you were met with darkness and silence, except for the faint sound of him breathing. You softly and quietly walked over to your own bed, and laid there. You thought about today and your recent fight before falling asleep.

You didn’t dream tonight, instead it was more of a memory focusing on Roger. It was something you had nearly forgotten about, and you don’t know why it arose now of all times. It was your twentieth birthday, and all the boys plus a few other friends were all there. You opened a small box from Roger and Freddie, and inside sat a little golden bracelet, with a heart shaped locket. On one side was a picture of you and Roger from a few years ago at on New Years. He had been giving you a piggyback ride after your heels hurt your feet. The other was of you and Freddie with one of his cats.

“Roger, Fred, it’s so cute!” You exclaimed, looking up at them. The memory was blurry.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like it at first, Freddie was the one who picked it out. I found the pictures though.” Roger said, smiling.

“I’ll always wear it, my two best friends!” You said, hugging him.

The brief memory faded away as you awoke, the golden sunshine peeking out from the cheap curtains onto your face. You felt in ache in your chest as you looked at the bracelet that still sat on your wrist. Even though Roger treated you like shit now, it reminded you of better and simpler times.

When you stood up, you took note of Roger’s absence, and you were thankful. You took a hot shower, letting the water run down as you tried to push the memory out of your head. You decided to skip breakfast, and took a cab to the venue where they were rehearsing since it appeared the boys left you behind.

You walked into the venue as they were practicing one of their songs. Freddie smiled and made eye contact with as you walked in. “Y/N!” He smiled. “We were waiting for you.”

“I know you’ll want to speak with me about your outfit for tonight Fred, but I promise, it is as extravagant as ever. Just keep practicing and I’ll show it to you afterward.”

“Alright, I suppose.” He sighed. You sat down in the front row, cheering and singing along to their songs, causing Freddie to laugh every once in awhile. Out of the corner of you could see Roger watching you, and glaring at you, but you pretended to not notice.

After a few songs, you snuck off, grabbed yourself some lunch and phoned Derek at a booth before heading back. You invited him to tonight’s show and he was ecstatic, and said he’d be there. Once you headed back, you finally agreed to show Freddie his outfit. As always he loved it. And soon, it was time to get ready for the show.

Roger put on the leather vest you gave him, plus the matching bands he always wore on his wrists. He tried not to smile as he admired the outfit, wishing you hadn’t known him so well. Once he stepped out, you turned toward him, concealing your smile with a scowl. You took the eyeliner and headed toward him. “Put this on, it goes with your outfit.” Roger took the eyeliner from you and only frowned. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. You frowned. “What?”

“I don’t really know how.”

You took the eyeliner back from him, and gestured for him to sit down. “Let me do it.” You leaned in close, marking around his eyes softly. You were oblivious to the fact the he was watching you as you intently focused on his makeup. You were also oblivious to the fact that his heart was beating out of his chest. Once you had finished, he ran his fingers through his golden hair, one of his tells. “You’re good to go, then.” You smiled, walking away to help Brian next.

As the show began, Derek stood behind you, watching the band play. “They’re really amazing.” He murmured. He had his arm wrapped around your waist, something Roger didn’t take note of until later in the show. Once Roger had noticed though, he gripped his drumsticks out of anger, playing more aggressively now, with more passion. Even you noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, and frowned, but thought nothing of it.

Once the show was over, Freddie came over to talk to you and Derek. “Did you enjoy it?”

“As always,” you smiled.

“It was amazing. We haven’t met formally yet, I’m Derek.” He said, extending the arm not wrapped around you to Freddie.

“Nice to meet the Derek that kept Y/N busy last night, I’m Freddie. Will you two be joining us at the party?” Freddie questioned.

You thought for a moment, as you usually didn’t party but tonight was different. “I suppose so, if that’s okay with you Derek?” You said looking up at him.

“Of course!”

                                                       *********

The party was wild, bodies everywhere, loud music, and the lingering smell of alcohol. Freddie had gone off to dance, and it didn’t take long for you and Derek to join him.

Roger watched from a distance as you stayed with Derek all night, your fingers intertwined with his. A different girl than earlier, a stunning brunette now, was chatting up a storm next to him, playing with his hair and flirting. Brian was sitting on the other side of him. “Don’t you think Y/N is getting close with that man too fast?” Roger commented, not paying any attention to the girl.

Brian scoffed. “As if you don’t sleep with every woman you meet? Lay off her Rog, she’s just having a bit of fun, that’s all.” Roger watched as you broke away from Derek and disappeared off to somewhere. Derek headed to the bar, and Roger decided to get up and follow him. Roger pulled up next to him, and although he knew it was a bad idea, he introduced himself.

“I’m Roger, the drummer. I saw you with Y/N, thought it’d be appropriate to say hello.” Roger said, trying to yell over the music. Derek gave him a fake smile.

“You’re the guy she’s been telling me about. You don’t like her do you?” Derek frowned.

Roger paused, and clenched his jaw. “Well actually I-”

He was interrupted by Derek. “Because, between you and me, I don’t like her myself. I’ve been looking for a bitch to launch my acting career, and well, she has somewhat of a platform? She’ll have to do.” Derek sighed, taking a sip of the drink the bartender had slid in front of him.

Roger froze, and that was the breaking point of his patience with Derek. At that moment, he was blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter, yet surprisingly satisfying. He reached out. Roger went to punch him in the face. When his fist came in contact Derek fell to the ground wailing in pain, as he tried to shake the aching after taste, upon the taste buds of his hand. Much like coffee, its bitterness drew Roger in to take another sip knowing he would be more awake than minutes before. Roger tackled Derek and held him down so he could not fight back. “Don’t you ever talk about her like that!” Roger spat. As he drew his fist to punch Derek again, you came up out of nowhere. Roger froze and looked up at you, a look of horror upon your face. People around him were all watching.

“Roger! What the fuck are you doing? Get off of him!” You said, trying to drag Roger away. He stood up, and before he could say anything you yelled, “Stay away from me!” Roger looked at you, sorrow in his eyes.

You grabbed Derek’s hand, and helped him up, blood from his hands staining your favorite floral dress. Roger wanted to warn you about Derek, tell you about what a dick he was and how he was using you, but Roger feared it’d only make the situation worse. So he let you go.

At the hotel, you had gotten some ice on Derek’s face, repeated apologizing about Roger. “I don’t know what got into him. He’s so infuriating, I swear! I’m so sorry Derek, this night was supposed to be fun.”

Derek only let out a small laugh. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. I was just explaining that he should treat you better, and then I started to tell him about how much fun we’ve had together already and then…” Derek let out sigh, and paused for a moment. “He punched me.”

You gave him a sad look as you both sat on your makeshift bed. “That’s very sweet of you Derek, I think I’ve been needing someone who cares like you do in my life.”

You both sat talking for a few hours, more laughing, and more lying from Derek. You were fooled, and you started to really fall for the man in front of you. You’re conversations were brought to a halt when Roger came back to the hotel, laughing with the brunette from the party. As he walked in and saw you two, he froze.

You broke eye contact, looking at the floor. “What the fuck is he doing here?” Roger gestured toward Derek, seething. “Get him out, now.”

“No!” You shouted back. “If you get to bring home every girl you meet, Derek can stay!”

“Y/N, I said get him out now!” Roger said, getting close. You opened your mouth to argue back, but Derek tugged your arm, facing you toward him.

“Hey, I’ll go, it’s fine.” Derek said, giving you a fake smile. “Call me tomorrow, alright?”

You only nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. Derek shoved past Roger to get to the door, not saying anything. Roger said nothing either, grinding his teeth to keep from doing so. “Roger, get out of here. I can’t even look at you.” You said, hot tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You let out a shaky breath, and pushed your hair behind your ear. “Why do you hate me?” You whispered.

Roger knew you just as much as you knew him. He knew your tells, and what you made you anxious. He knew what you tucking your hair meant. Roger was shocked at your words, and only hated himself for hurt you. So without saying another word, he guided the unnamed brunette out and followed her. For that, you were thankful.

You let yourself cry for a little bit, a mixture of anger and sorrow, but decided to move on. You couldn’t help but wonder why Roger hated you so much… You used to be best friends, and then everything just changed. You felt in aching in your chest as you thought of the friendship you once shared. You knew you couldn’t dwell on this for too long, and decided it was time for this long night to end. You laid down in your crappy bed, your back hurting from it last night, and finally drifted off to sleep.

Roger came back to the room a few hours later, careful not to wake you. He was alone now, ditching the brunette as soon as he left the room. Roger had only gone to a bar, had one drink… He sighed as he saw you sleeping peacefully on the floor, and just shook his head. He carefully and quietly lifted you up in his arms, praying you were just as heavy of a sleeper as you were back in college. Roger set you gently on the bed, covering you up in the blankets.

Roger only distanced himself from you because he was afraid. You were an amazing person with an amazing heart, kind to everyone you met. He didn’t want to break you. He knew once he caught feelings for you back in college that you’d feel the same, and that he’d make a stupid decision and ruin you. So, he did the only thing he knew to: he shut you out.

As he tucked you in bed, he saw the golden bracelet from your birthday all those years ago, shining in what little light was let into the room. He decided he was done lying, from you and to from himself.

Because the thing was, Roger didn’t hate you. Not one bit. In fact, he loved you.

[thesloppiestbitch]

Sick Day - Roger Taylor x Reader

A/N: I’m sick and my girlfriend lives in a different country, so this is how I’m passing the time and comforting myself lmao enjoy

I apologize for any typos or grammatical errors, I don’t feel well enough to proof read

Masterlist

You groaned quietly as you sat up, voice cracking quite a bit, as you attempted let the man beside you continue his sleep. Your hands dragged down your face, and, as you did so, you noticed you had a small fever. Nothing that a thermometer would pick up, but a fever nonetheless.

Perfect, because to be sick is exactly what I need today, you thought as you slowly swung your feet over the bed, head already becoming swimmy.

Today was the last day the boys had to work on their album, and they wanted you there to hear what they’d been working on, and to help them choose tour stops in the US, as you were really the only one who’d travelled there enough to know what cities had the good bars and clubs. They were really counting on you being there, but it’s not like your presence would make or break the meeting, and you knew that, but you’d been waiting all month for this.

You sighed again, finally ready to attempt standing up. Which did not go so well. As soon as you stood, your sinuses seemed to clog and your vision darkened around the edges. You also began to feel nauseous and the room looked like it was tilted for some reason. Nevertheless, you needed to start the pot of coffee and hop in the shower, hoping the combination would give you enough energy to make it through the day.

You stumbled forwards, stubbing your big toe on the dresser and cursing under your breath. The thud and the speech was enough to wake Roger. He sat up slightly, obviously stretching under the duvet. “You alright, love?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” You spoke, voice hoarse and croaky due to your immensely dry throat. You attempted to clear it, but only winced in pain. “I’m fine,” You croaked.

“Are you sick?” He asked, sitting up completely, now fully awake.

“What? No,” You waved him off, now supporting yourself by leaning on the doorframe, afraid you might fall over if you didn’t have something to prop yourself up. “I just need a glass of water,”

“[Name], you’re as white as the wallpaper. Get back in bed,”

“No, Roggie,” You whined. “I need a drink,”

He laughed at your childishness, rolling his eyes. “I will get you a drink,”

You looked to the ground, suddenly feeling self conscious. “I gotta pee, too.”

He chuckled, standing up. “Fine, go to the bathroom and I’ll get you a drink. You’re not leaving the bed today,”

“But we have that meeting with the boys!” You protested, attempting to stand straight, but wobbling side to side slightly.

“They’ll understand,”

“Don’t they need you for recording?”

“They’re mixing. If it’s anything that’s that important, they’ll wait till I get back or call,”

You sighed, throwing your head back, suddenly realizing it was pointless to argue with him once he had his mind set to something. “Fine.”

“Good,”

•••

As the day went on, you grew to feel more disgusting. Your nose continued to run, and you got tired of wiping it, so you’d stuffed small wads of toilet paper up your nose. You knew you looked stupid, but you didn’t really care. Plus, Roger still made you feel like the prettiest girl in the world.

“Rog, I feel bad,” You started, looking down at your hands. Your voice sounded a little funny due to your stuffy nose, as well as the toilet paper up there.

“I know,” He interrupted. “You’re sick. That tends to go with it; kinda like a package deal sorta thing.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling softly. “No! I mean I feel bad about you missing the meeting today. You really didn’t need to stay home and babysit me,”

“Oh, [Name], babysitting is fun!” He teased.

You were slightly taken aback by his response, but still laughed, even though it hurt your throat. “Can you pass me the Halls please? Oh, and I think you should have a good heaping of ‘be nice to me, I’m sick’.”

He laughed, handing you the small package of couch drops. “You really don’t have to feel bad about this, love. The boys were very understanding on the phone; they even offered to stop by after the meeting and bring us something for supper,”

A small smile broke out on your face. “Well aren’t they sweet,”

He nodded. “Plus, if they weren’t able to finish everything today because we weren’t there, they can always book extra time with the studio tomorrow; it’s really no big deal. Plus, I like getting to spend the day with you in bed,”

You rolled your eyes.

•••

A few hours passed and you’d managed to fall back asleep to the sound of the TV playing some rerun of a show you’d seen a million times before. You cuddled right up to Roger, happy to have the extra heat to keep you warm.

Just as Roger was about to fall asleep as well, a knock at the door caught his attention. He stood up carefully, trying to make sure you stayed asleep as you clearly needed the extra rest.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by his three other band mates. They were all smiling as they waited for their friend to let them in. Roger glanced down, seeing Freddie was holding a bag from KFC and returned the smile as he opened the door wider, motioning them inside.

“Where’s [Name]?” Brian asked on his way to the kitchen.

“How’s she feeling?” John asked, staying behind an extra minute to take off and hang up his coat.

“She’s asleep in the bedroom right now, and she seems to be feeling a little better. She’s still being her sassy, jokey self,” Roger replies, closing the door once all three were in his flat.

“You should’ve called us! We don’t want to wake her,” Freddie called softly from the kitchen.

Roger shrugged it off, making his way towards the room as well. “Its fine, she’s been asleep for a few hours anyways, she’s probably starving. She hasn’t eaten all day; didn’t even want her coffee that she insisted I make for her,” He laughed as he recalled the last part.

“Well, go wake her then, I suppose,” Freddie replied, getting plates from the cupboard.

Roger nodded, making his way towards the bedroom. When he walked in, he saw you sprawled across the bed, mouth wide open, and the wads of toilet paper still sticking out from your nostrils. He smiled to himself, thinking you still looked adorable.

Roger knelt beside the bed, gently rubbing your arm to wake you up. You stirred in the bed for a moment, and eventually your eyes fluttered open.

“What time is it?” You croaked.

“Almost seven, love. The guys are here and they brought chicken. Care to join us?”

You nodded, stretching your arms above your head as you sat up.

Roger laughed as he watched you do this.

You glared at him. “What?”

“Might wanna take out those snot wads before you see them. If you don’t, they’ll never let you live it down.”

Your brows knit together in confusion as you reached up to tap your nose. You laughed softly, having forgotten you’d stuffed them up there. “Okay, look away,”

He laughed. “You act as though I haven’t held your hair back for you as you’ve thrown up before,”

“Roger!” You scolded, laughing. “Just look away!”

He put his hands up in surrender and turned away.

After you’d made yourself look slightly more presentable, Roger helped you keep your balance as the two of you went to the kitchen where the rest of the band had set up plates, utensils, glasses, and had made you some tea. You audibly “awe’d” upon seeing this.

“You guys really didn’t have to do this,” You said after clearing your throat.

“We wanted to,” John shrugged.

Roger pushed your seat in for you before sitting beside you. “They’re sickeningly sweet when it comes to you, but if one of us were to get sick, the others wouldn’t do jack shit for them. You’re really something special to us, [Name].” He commented, grabbing the box of chicken strips.

You nodded, sipping your tea. “Thanks guys,” They all nodded in response, all getting some sort of food or waiting for someone else to finish with what they wanted. “And I’m really sorry for missing the meeting today, I feel really bad about it. And about keeping Roger home all day, even if he did insist on staying even after I told him to go,” You shot him a glare to which he shrugged.

“[Name], it’s no big deal, really. We did miss you, but we can always have another meeting once you’re feeling better,” Brian reassured.

“What, you didn’t miss me?” Roger asked, pretending to be hurt by this.

“Nope.” Freddie responded, biting into some food.

“Not in the slightest.” John added.

You laughed at their comments

•••

After supper, and after the guys had left, you sulked back to bed after having had a refreshing and relaxing soak in a hot bath. You were only beginning to feel better now, but you still didn’t feel at the top of your game. You knew you’d be feeling the same tomorrow, but you didn’t really care. There was nothing planned for the following day, so you weren’t stressing over anything.

After a minute or so, Roger climbed into bed beside you and you cuddling up close to him again. Despite the hot bath, you were still freezing cold.

“You have a fever, love,” Roger mumbled, resting a hand softly on your forehead.

“I know,” You croaked.

“Did you take any medicine?”

You nodded. “Uh-huh.”

He laughed softly. “Tired?”

“Very.”

“Alright then, goodnight, love,”

“‘Night.”

“I love you,” He stated quietly, shifting in a way so he was closer to you.

You opened your eyes to find him very close to your face, about to kiss you. You shuffled back a little bit. “Don’t, you’ll get sick.”

“Don’t care,” He said nonchalantly, leaning in again.

You chuckled, kissing him.

“Don’t complain to me when you wake up feeling like shit,” You whispered once you two had pulled apart.

He laughed. “I won’t.”

“I love you,”

“I love you, too,”

You cuddled close to him again, hoping for a restful sleep.

[megalony]

Secrets- Part 4

 Another part of my latest Roger Taylor series which I hope you are all enjoying.

Taglist: @marshmallowmae @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @luvborhap @jennyggggrrr @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) had never felt the kind of tension that swamped her and Roger on the car ride home. Roger had been adamant that if they were going to have this conversation then it was not happening in the carpark of the studio, they were going home. As soon as the decision to go home had been made, not one word had passed between the couple from the moment they stepped into the car to the moment they walked into their shared home.

The time it took for them to get from the studio to home left (Y/n) sitting with one million thoughts and questions running around in her mind to the point they were making her dizzy.

How was this even a situation?

She couldn't even begin to comprehend the little information that Roger had told her because it seemed to rok the boundaries of everything. If Danny wasn't Roger's son then why was he bringing him up as if he was, especially if Roger seemed to adamant that he didn't want children? Was the reason the drummer didn't want children precisely because he couldn't? Did Roger know who Danny's real father was? Was he going to eventually tell Danny- (Y/n) only presumed the little boy thought Roger was his dad, maybe he knew that he actually wasn't. She knew nothing of the situation or the reasons behind all of this but it was mind-numbing to even consider, let alone try and understand.

This seemed to make the tiniest bit of sense with the way Roger was so sure that he wasn't having children anymore. He couldn't, that was the whole point behind why he was pestering (Y/n) to think about their relationship. Roger knew his mind would not change because he knew he couldn't have children so there was no way that (Y/n) could think to change his mind as that would not matter in the slightest.

The confusion in her mind about why Roger didn't want kids now when he had Danny seemed to make a bit more sense too. Roger didn't want kids and he couldn't, Danny hadn't been planned and he wasn't Rogers, that was why the drummer said it was different with Danny.

When the couple entered their shared home, (Y/n) blindly followed Roger into the living room. Watching as he slumped down into the blood-red armchair resting beneath the window. His head lolling to the side like his neck had been broken, his temple resting against his fist, his elbow propped up on the arm of the chair. His eyes followed (Y/n) as she moved to sit down on the matching sofa, one leg crossing over the other as she waited slightly impatiently for him to speak. The silence had gone on between them for long enough now, she was craving answers and she wanted them now.

"I've known since I was twenty that I can't have kids and honestly, that was great news to me. No chance of a 'happy accident' in any circumstance. I've had two girls I loved leave me because I don't want kids, that's why I seem fine with you wanting to leave, I'm used to it."

The way Roger spoke made (Y/n) quiver. There were no emotions to his voice, no sorrow, no joy, no in-between. He wore a rather snide kind of expression as his upper lip twitched, the corners of his mouth etching up to form a smirk before it disappeared. It was a look (Y/n) had never seen on the drummer before and not one that she would willingly want to see again. His voice seemed somehow different than usual, more grating and lower-pitched than usual. His eyes were shades darker than normal, not opening fully and blinking for a second longer each time.

An appointment at the doctors had told Roger just as he got into his twenties that he was not going to be able to have a child. It had been a bit of a shock for the doctor to see someone so relieved and rather happy about that news. It meant that Roger didn't have to worry about an unplanned accident happening and him being a father when he knew all along he didn't want to be. It meant that if Roger had a one night stand with someone, there was no chance for them to come back months later and claim to be pregnant by him if that ever happened. Roger was given that little bit more freedom and that relief to know that he could have his wish.

He wanted (Y/n) to think about their relationship properly because he knew he couldn't give her something that she wanted and he didn't want her to blame him in years to come by saying he had stolen something from her like that.

Roger would have been fine with her leaving because he couldn't give her a family other than the one he already had. If it was what she wanted she could leave him and he would make no quarrel because it had happened before. He had loved someone in his early twenties who sadly said she wasn't willing to give up on children when she realised he was serious about not having any. He'd been with another girl later on who he thought he could have a future with until she too decided children were what she wanted as well as marriage and Roger wasn't prepared or even able to give her either of those. He couldn't ask them to stay with him when it would make them both unhappy so he watched them leave.

"So why bring Danny up and claim he's yours?" (Y/n) realised her wording was not the best when she saw the way Roger's expression shifted to an even worse one. His body sitting up straighter in the chair as his fist tightened to the point he could no longer feel the tips of his fingers.

"Claim he's mine?" Roger almost growled the words as a look of disbelief raged in his eyes. That wasn't the nicest way to phrase it and it made him sound like he had kidnapped Danny. "He's my son in every way but biological and to everyone but you and Fred, he is biologically mine. Even my parents and sister don't know he isn't related to me like that so don't talk like that. He's growing up knowing he's my boy and that is that."

Roger saw no point in telling his parents that he couldn't have children when they knew he didn't want a family anyway. That seemed to have been a very good decision when the situation with Danny came along because it meant he could tell them Danny was his son and there would be no reason for them to think otherwise. There was no threat of anyone accidentally spilling the secret that Danny's father wasn't who he thought it was. Only Freddie and now (Y/n) knew the truth and Roger wanted to keep it that way, for as long as the drummer lived he wanted Danny to think and know that he was his father.

"No- I didn't mean it like that Rog. I'm sorry... I just meant, why would you commit to being his father when you don't want kids? It just seems to defy the point." (Y/n) didn't mean to be disrespectful or rude. The situation simply seemed confusing because the point was Roger couldn't and didn't want children. Posing the question of why did he commit to being a father to Danny?

"I met Emily when I was twenty-three, she worked at one of the studios we recorded at. We never dated but... she was special to me. She was one of my best friends and one night she turned up at my house. The guy she was with was a fucking bully, he'd broken her ribs and she didn't have anywhere to go so she stayed with me." Roger ran his hand across the underside of his jaw, applying slight pressure to the bone as his eyes seemed to show he was in a different world completely. The change in his eyes was instant the moment her name passed through his lips. His whole body seemed to sink into the chair as the tears were already forming and adding a gloss to his blue orbs.

Roger was never really sure if he simply loved Emily in the kind of way that was magical. In a way that a lover should feel towards their partner or if what he felt was a protectiveness over a very close friend. Whatever Roger had felt for her spiked the moment she had died. He radiated those emotions to the point he felt drained enough to wonder if he was dying.

The drummer knew that was a feeling he hadn't had since and he didn't expect to love someone in the way he loved Emily. All love was different, he loved his friends in a different way than he did for his mother and sister. He loved the boys in a different way to how he did (Y/n) and he loved them all in a different way to how he did Danny. Emily was simply in a league of her own when it came to the love she had made Roger feel. He didn't want to feel that again because he wanted that love to be special, he wanted that feeling to be for her only.

Roger had been more than protective over Emily, she had been one of the most kind and sweetest people that Roger had come to know and to learn that her boyfriend had treated her in that way made him livid. The moment she turned up at his house he took her in and told her she didn't have to leave ever again. He let her stay with him and rejoiced in the company she gave which stopped him from feeling lonesome in a home that was meant to house more than one person. Roger didn't want her to think about getting a place of her own, he had wanted her to stay with him even if they were never going to be a couple, she was his closest friend and she was always welcome to stay with him for as long as she wanted.

"She found out she was pregnant a few weeks later and she didn't know what to do. She'd wanted kids but she didn't want to do it on her own and I knew if she got an abortion she'd regret it and if she told her ex he'd kill her."

Roger knew Emily like the back of his hand, she had the mindset where she thought she would have a boyfriend or even a husband and they'd have kids together and it would be the life she'd always wanted. It broke every single part of Roger to see how confused and broken she was at not knowing if the baby was something she wanted or not. A baby was what she'd always wanted but not with her ex, a reminder of someone who'd used and abused her was not what she wanted and being a single mother seemed too much for her to handle. But if she told her ex he would surely have hurt her worse than ever before and if she had an abortion Roger knew that would break her.

"I told her that we could tell everyone it was my baby." He latched his hand into his hair as he allowed his eyes to lock with (Y/n)'s for the first time since he mentioned Emily's name. He'd told the woman in front of him that Danny's mum meant a lot to him and (Y/n) understood that she saw how much Emily meant to him and she never brought her up in case it upset him.

"You did it for her?"

Roger had to brush a single tear away the moment it fell from his eye as he nodded. (Y/n) had never seen Roger look so broken or complexed in all the years she'd known him and it hurt to see him like this. He had disregarded his wants, needs and thoughts in order to help out someone so dear to him. Roger ignored the knowledge that he didn't want children and told Emily that if it would help her he would step up to the role of being a dad for her.

"If everyone else believed it then I thought we could convince ourselves Danny was mine. She wouldn't have to see her ex again, she didn't have to think Danny was a reminder of him and her kid would have a dad, a better one than her ex at least. She didn't want to at first, thought she would be taking advantage but I wanted to because I knew the thought made her happy. She lived with me and we told people we were together. When Danny was born we decided to make a go of it, didn't want him to have a broken home and we were close so... why not? After two and a half months she died."

Emily thought she would be taking advantage. She knew Roger well enough to know kids were not on his agenda and she didn't want to make him feel obligated to do this for her. But the thought made her heart race because he was one of her closest friends and the thought of having a child with him was amazing compared to the truth of the situation.

The initial plan had been for them to tell people they were together and expecting, to have Danny and then decide whether they were going to live together or 'separate' and take things from there. The moment Danny was born they both decided they should at least try and make a go of things, to give him a family and it felt right for them both. They seemed to have fallen for each other through the reality they had created. But then Emily passed away much too soon and Roger was left on his own.

"The moment he was in my arms that was it... he was mine and not wanting kids didn't matter anymore. My name went on the birth certificate and Em and Fred were the only ones who knew the truth since I'd drunkenly told Fred I couldn't have kids one night."

In a moment of drunken madness, Roger had let slip to his best friend that he couldn't have children after his girlfriend left him due to them wanting different things. Freddie had promised to keep it quiet but he had asked what happened when Roger turned up at the studio one morning announcing to everyone that he and Emily were expecting a baby. The singer thought it was an amazing thing Roger was doing for someone he clearly loved and he also promised not to tell anyone that secret either.

"So even if I ever wanted to, I can't give you a baby sweetheart. Danny is my boy and he's more than enough for me. Whatever you want to do now is your choice."

[ravenwolf1132]

They Come and Go

This was just a quick plot bunny that I came up with on the fly while listening to the fma ost and merry go round of life. Shaggy, who as I picture him, is someone who values nature and the prospect of life, comes across someone attempting to do the impossible and breach the laws of nature and the way life flows to try and bring back his dead wife. A woman he loved more than life itself and had a very healthy relationship with, which unfortunately their time together has been cut short due to an untimely death. He's trying to bring her back to life and Shaggy has to talk some sense into him a la Fullmetal Alchemist style. (As in philosophy, heavy topics like death and grief, and trying to move on with one's life. Just a warning to y'all)

Kinda just jumps right into the confrontation between them. No set up what-so-ever as if it's just after the dramatic reveal and you turned on the TV at the end of the episode. So, LET'S-A GO!!

(Oh and Clarence and Myrtle were just names I came up with on the fly, so picture them how you want.)

~•~●~•~

They Come and Go

"Clarence?!" The Mystery Inc exclaimed all except Shaggy.

"But why?" Velma asked she was sure that the sweet and kind man was innocent.

Clarence scoffed, "because of my wife, that's why!"

"Huh?"

"Ugh, guys, like, it's easy," Shaggy drawled in a bored tone, all eyes were on him. "His wife is dead, and he wanted to bring her back to life. Isn't that right, Clarence?" He held up the book the man was trying to steal. "I have to say, all this set up and elaborate planning is a little much for trying to steal a single book. Then again, like, perhaps you wanted to scare everyone away so there would be no witnesses to the atrocity you were about to commit!"

"But how can wanting your loved ones back be an atrocity?!" He shouted in outrage, "Don't you have people you'd miss if they died?! Wouldn't you want to do anything to bring them back again?!"

"Yes, I do have people like that, they're all around me," Shaggy admitted. "But, like, there's a difference between wanting to do something and actually attempting it. There are many people who want to try and bring their loved ones back to life, yes, that's true. Hell, that's a natural part of the grieving process. But, there are few who actually attempt it, and even fewer that succeed. Even then, they're still losing that battle. But that's another story entirely."

"That doesn't make any sense, isn't bringing the dead back to life supposed to be impossible?" Fred asked.

"Exactly my point, Fred," Shaggy said. "It is impossible. The closest we've got is cloning, and, like, even then, those clones are different than the person we initially tried to bring back. There's no bringing the dead back to life, it's just not possible."

"So what?!" Clarence yelled, "just because those people failed, doesn't mean I will too!"

"Oh really?" Shaggy questioned with a quirked eyebrow. His voice was level and calm, and the others knew that Shaggy only ever got like this when he was pissed off. Wisely, they backed off and let him speak. "You really think you are powerful enough to play the hand of God? I'm not a big religious believer myself, but even I know that life is something way out of our human control. Nature is something that cannot be controlled, everything will eventually go back to the way it was, how nature intended it to be. That's the problem we have here. Going against that flow of life, that innate cycle that cannot be changed nor altered is the problem. You have to accept it, not fight against it. If someone were to be brought back to life, it would only disrupt nature's balance and destroy ecosystems. Let's say that the person you brought back was content wherever they ended up, would they be grateful to you and thank you for a needless rescue then?

"What if, even worse, they were brought back immortal? Can you name one person that would want to be physically unable to die? No, I doubt it. Immortality is considered more of a curse than a blessing. Not only would it throw a permanent wrench in the circle of life itself, yes I did just make a lion king reference but it's relevant! But it would also destroy the person who came back, unable to die while they have to watch those around them grow up and pass on themselves.

"How would they feel towards you if you were the reason they were miserable? That they were robbed of that chance of having a happy afterlife by you and as rubbing salt in the wound, would never be able to have that chance again, and would have to watch as other people die and are given it instead, because of you and your selfish desires to have the love of your life back? Well, I'm telling ya now pal, that's gonna get you an eternity in the dog house."

Clarence looked like he had been slapped across the face and it seemed as if he was finally woken up from his delusions. He hung his head in shame and his shoulders started to shake, the others thought he was going to explode with anger, but when they heard soft sobs coming from him, they realized he was crying. Shaggy doesn't usually like to make people cry and would try to make it up to them, but he didn't this time. He couldn't, he was right and he was standing by his belief, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to offer some comfort. He helped the emotionally distressed man out of his costume and binds and the man latched onto him and sobbed. Shaggy didn't say anything but hugged him back and let him pour it all out. When the sobs finally died down, he pulled back.

"Thank you," Clarence said in a quiet voice, "I see my wrongs now, but still. What am I supposed to do now? That hope was all I had left! Please, tell me, what I'm supposed to do??"

He was so distressed, the Gang had never dealt with a case like this, and it hurt them to see him like this and sympathized with him. After all, everyone has people they couldn't bear to lose, he had a point. But Shaggy seemed to know what he was doing.

"Like, I can't tell you that," he said with a sorrowful shake of his head, pulling out of the other man's vice-like grip. "You have to figure it out for yourself. I can't tell you what you have to do with your life as much as anyone else can, only you can make those decisions."

He stood up and turned his back to the man walking forwards a few steps before pausing, he glanced back and saw Clarence sitting there limp as a rag doll and he sighed quietly, barely a sound passing his lips.

"Well, if you want my advice…"

"Yes?" Clarence asked in a hopeful voice.

"You have to move on. Myrtle wouldn't want you wallowing in grief and self-pity, she'd want you to honor her memory by living a long, happy life even in her absence. But not for a second should you forget her."

"How could I? She's- or was- the love of my life, I- I couldn't just, just forget someone like that!"

Shaggy turned and smiled at him, it wasn't a confident grin or silly smirk, it was a genuine smile that had to make him wonder if this kid had been through something similar. "There you go," he acknowledged, "That's the first step to acceptance, admitting that she's gone. It'll be hard, trust me, I know. My dad, someone who I was really close to, was killed on duty. I know what it feels like to lose a loved one, but once they're gone, they're gone. No one can bring the dead back to life, Clarence. Not you, not me. But hey, I got through it. You will too. And anyone else dealing with it for that matter. It's a part of how life goes, and everyone will eventually have to face that same music too. But oh well, I'm just some humble hippie kid riding around in a van straight out of the 1960s with his friends and his dog, so what do I know?" He laughed and even the rest of the occupants in the room shared a chuckle. "Still, you have to keep going, Clare. To quote an obligatory teenage cartoon, 'you have two good legs, so get up and use them.'"

"Heh, you're right," Clarence said, "though I probably would have gotten away with all this if it hadn't been for you meddling kids and your dog."

"Rog? Rhere?"

The room's atmosphere lightened at the familiar quip. Then Daphne spoke up.

"Well, the good thing is," she started, "this whole thing was private and no one but us knows that you were the monster. So how about we let this one slide for once? We'll just return the book and say we found it when the monster disappeared, though we are also going to be sure to explain how the monster won't show up again. Not unless it's someone else doing it, of course."

"We'd let you off with a slap on the wrist, but I think Shaggy has that covered," Velma said.

He laughed, embarrassed, "Well anyway, like, how about we hit the town and get dinner? After all this excitement, I'm starving!"

"Reah! Re roo!" Scooby agreed with a wag of his tail.

That night consisted of returning the book to the museum, explaining to the town how the monster won't come back, then proceeding to hang loose with some fun. Only Shaggy could really turn from any heavy and depressing topic to something light-hearted so quickly.

~•~●~•~

The closest thing we humans have to immortality is human memory. Remembering those who have passed on. As cliche as it may sound, the phrase "those who leave us don't truly leave us, they will continue to live on as long as we can remember them" still has merit. It's the only thing we can hope for beyond our grave that we made a big enough impact on those we love to be remembered for generations to come, that way, we can truly live forever as long as our memory still lives. I hope all those struggling to come to terms with death know that things will get better, and to those of you who are debating whether or not you're worth living, you are. You'll find your acceptance too, you just have to keep living to see the next day to eventually get there.

Boy, that went long, but I'm glad about how it came out. (And don't worry, I'm fine. It's just something I think was appropriate to address after writing a story with such heavy topics.) Well anyway, it's nearly midnight over here and I need to go to bed, G'night!

[omgmarieux]

PLANTING GARDENS IN GRAVES // Roger Taylor x Reader // Two-Shot Story (2/2)

Part ½: Death on Two Legs

Part 2/2: Planting Gardens in Graves (title inspired by r.h. Sin)

Wordcount: 4k

About the Title: The title is inspired by a book called “Planting Gardens in Graves” by r.h. Sin, but not really related to the contents of the poetry book itself. So yeah, not my title lovies.

Note: This took so long, very sorry. I’m debating with myself whether which is better way to start this part between my two drafts (for a whole week, yes). Anyway, enjoy and thanks for reading! (also I accidentally posted this earlier and boy I’m really sorry about that)

Every single hour, Roger seems to cross your mind. Even if you have distracted yourself from memorizing the procedure more, hell you can dictate it while sleeping, he still somehow manage to slip in.

‘Like? Like me? That’s a weird combination of words, especially that it’s for me.’ You said to yourself.

The laboratory practice had ended and you had finished it with flying colours. No mistakes or troubles, heck you did memorize the procedures by heart, of course you’re going to ace it with Roger. But he seems like acing everything he likes.

Since then, he started walking you back to your dorm. You never really agreed to this with him, but it always seems too late to speak about it when he’s already out there, waiting for you. Most of the time he waits outside your last class if it weren’t Biochemistry—for god knows how he found that out. Then he’ll offer to walk you home, you would say no, he don’t need to do it and you don’t want him around yet he still follows you behind; catching up to your side and talking to you absentmindedly about his day or something he is annoyed about. You rarely spoke back; it didn’t seem to be important.

“Roger, you can just leave me alone.” You said to him as soon as you saw him standing before the door of the room.

“I don’t want to.” He replied pressing hard onto the two t’s between want and to.

“You don’t need to walk me home Roger. I’m a grown up. It’s not like you’re my father.” You said as rolled your eyes at him.

“But I want to.” He replied like a whine later on. You would walk faster to reach your home to avoid further discussions with him. With everyday you walk with him, you should be comfortable with his presence but the more time you spend with him it looks like you grew an uncontrollable discomfort towards him. It’s not that you hated him, it’s just your socializing issues.

And then starts another habit of him; waiting outside your dorm early in the morning, with breakfast on a paper bag and he would give it you once you open the entrance door.

“No thanks, Roger. I already ate.” You answered him and his disappointment is plastered in his face the whole way to university. Although some days, he would offer a cup of coffee to you but you hold your hands up to refuse, and that leaves him with a full two cup of coffees to fuel himself for the whole day. He ended up having palpitations and feeling nauseous after so he never bothered to try bring a coffee once again.

Some mornings; since he discovered you don’t skip breakfast, he would bring flower instead. One stem of rose each day, or a daisy, or if he’s feeling different he would also bring sunflowers. It depends on his mood, but you’d shake your head no to him.

“Roger first of all, this is a waste.” You said after you reached for the flower. “Second, I don’t like or want it. But thank you anyways.” You’ll continue and then he would walk beside you with a wide smile as if he had won a lottery, no, as if he had found the love of his life to spend the rest of his life with. He would try to repeat it as it makes him happy whenever you acknowledge him, or simply thank him. It wasn’t annoying, but sure it was disturbing to you. You hated attention and that’s all you’ve been receiving from Roger.

As soon as finals week began, you told Roger to at least not walk you home. Less distractions for you and more focus on your academics, or just to have a valid excuse to avoid his presence. He agreed with that considering it is very important to you.

He asks few questions in the morning, trying to simulate your brain for the exam. You’d answer him and he’s glad with that kind if interaction, rather content with it. It inspires him for the whole day.

In laboratory written examination, laboratory partners are separated so he is across the room and it gave you enough focus and it kept Roger from being distracted with your presence. To be honest, it’s not a problem if Roger had stopped walking to after your classes but it did bother you. You become used to being his side every afternoon, walking back home, but when that thought crossed your mind, you thought that you’re being selfish. Giving him small hopes for your affection. Eventually, you thought that maybe if you persuade him to not fetch you in the morning, he would stop walking with you and fully giving up. You considered that.

In Roger’s side, summer is around the corner and he solely focused on his band whilst still tries to get your attention. He popped his head once in your few last classes one afternoon. “Hi Y/N!” He greets you cheerfully. And planning to ask you out to go on their band rehearsal.

“Hey.”

“I can’t walk you home today. I’m really sorry.” He apologized and you frowned.

“You didn’t need to walk me home anytime Roger. You don’t need to apologize for that.” You replied.

“Uh, but I want to.” He stuttered. “You think you want to join me and my friends rehearse?” You politely decline his offer and went home alone that day. He was indeed disappointed but he knew there was no chance of you actually going. But he didn’t think that a little hope would disappoint him this much. Needless to say, he was very hurt.

Summer came, there’s no interaction between you and Roger. It gave you time to peacefully think and enjoy your alone time but in the mid-summer, you felt lonely. Realization hit you. How you felt lonely for years before Roger pestered you. How he made you feel happy and appreciated during the times you were with him. But you can’t use him for your happiness, can you? It would be unfair to him.

You were walking in the grocery store, grabbing few snacks to survive the week. It was boring. All you did was read books and you felt extremely lonely so you tried going out for a while. Food shopping seems to be the best solution so you did went to the grocery.

“Hey death on two legs!” You turned around to the familiar voice. It was the one with the black long hair, rather the guy from the left.

“Oh hi.” You respond awkwardly with the nickname.

“Roger had never shut up about you since he met you. He speaks about you 24-7! It’s much worse, he’s my roommate!” He exclaimed but a bit of a joke sounding.

“Oh. I’m sorry then.”

“Oh no darling, it’s alright! I just want to tell you how much he likes you and how much he misses you right now that twenty four hours each day is not enough for him to babble things about you.” You blushed at his remark. You were the next on in the line. The cashier had called you out and you walked directly to the cashier.

“Darling, if you don’t mind can you please give me your number so I could pass it to Rog?” He asked and handed you a small note and pen. You half smiled and took it to write your number down.

“Thanks Y/N!” He said as he got it back.

“No problem…” You were half embarrassed to yourself that you forgot his name, but glad that he didn’t seem to notice it. Frank? Ferdie?

Hours later when you got home, the telephone rang. You hesitated on answering it, fully sure that Roger’s probably the one who’s calling. You reached for the phone and brought it to your ears.

“Hi Y/N!” That voice you heard wasn’t Roger’s; it was the one you met at the grocery store. You were hit with disappointment like a wave. As if he sensed it on the other line, “Sorry for disappointing you honey, but Roger is being a bitch, so I decided to not give him your number.” He spoke an you chuckled lightly as you heard a groan behind the call. Roger did not believe that Freddie got your number; you were not the one who would give that easily. So the moment Freddie speaks through the phone, he thought he was just pretending.

“But I think you’d rather come by instead.” He said and he dictated their address. You wrote it on a piece of paper behind your telephone thinking that maybe it would come in handy. “So that’s all darling! Hope you have a good day!” He said then he drops the line.

‘I must have seriously missed that jerk and considering that you kept the note.’ You thought to yourself. But it will take all your pride to actually show up in their doorstep. With reason or none.

It was hot, you were sweating and you hated this kind of weather. You opened your windows and not-too-chill wind entered your dorm. It’s tolerable at least. You stepped towards your kitchen and prepared a breakfast, rather an early lunch for you. And of course, a tea. Soon you found yourself on your couch again, for almost every day, this couch is your only companion. Hell, summer is going to end soon and you didn’t even do anything ‘fun’. You laughed at the sound of fun inside your head. You haven’t had that since years ago or did you had a little of them with Roger’s presence. Did you?

Few weeks to go before a new term begins. Maybe I could go back to my parent’s home? Visit for few days? You laughed at yourself with the thought again. And then what? See my old friends with their eyes dropping on me screaming “pathetic.” I guess no. You sighed realizing how really pathetic you are right now.

You looked over the clock hanging on your wall. Not even a minute had passed since you sat. Should I visit Roger? I’m really really really bored. You stood up and went to the bathroom to get ready. The whole time, you heart was racing fast. What ifs danced behind your mind.

What if he’s not home? What if he’s busy? What if he has another visitor? Or maybe he’s not interested in you anymore. If he was then maybe he would have at least showed his ass there even for once for the previous weeks. You were in the middle of wearing your clothes when you stop. Pity you. Lonely again, lonely forever.

As you finished dressing up, you sat on the edge of your bed, having second thoughts about going to Roger’s. Maybe you shouldn’t because you might bother him. But soon after debating with yourself, you gave up on your over thinking session and picked up your purse to hurry outside.

There are plenty of places to go when you’re bored; like library, coffee shops, parks, boutiques, and more. But for a person like you, you always opted for peace, which distracts you from your chaotic mind, a little. A bookstore or library is good for more moments of silence, as if you never had enough of them. So your feet brought you to the nearest bookstore. You scanned the shelves looking for interesting titles or covers. They say “do not judge the book by its cover”, yet you are here doing it. After an hour of constant gliding of your fingers to the spine of each books, ou gave up looking for one and just went to the cashier to buy a newspaper and left. Bookstore made you even more frustrated; nothing to buy, and nothing to turn your attention into.

Your feet started walking and it take wherever in the city but when you came across to a music store, you stopped on your tracks and entered it. You went straight to classics. Pianos. You needed some to calm your chaotic mind. You chose a record of Chopin and another random one before heading to the cashier to pay.

Just before you passed the records to the man behind the counter, a hand landed on your shoulder startled you.

“Sorry Y/N!” The man said instantly and chuckled. The voice of a man that made your mind a mess.

“Oh, hi Roger.” You said and you properly passed the record to the cashier. Roger was amused with your greeting. He wasn’t expecting a nice and welcoming sound from you.

“Hey Y/N, what are you up to?” He asked and you pouted directly to the record that’s being wrapped.

“Chopin? Really?” He asked and you moved your gaze at him and glared. “Sorry it’s just that… that’s your type of music?” He asked again.

“Yes.” You muttered. Because you are noisy inside my mind.

“And you? Beetles?” You asked in rude way and raised your eyebrow at him.

“Uhh, yeah.”

“See? The kind of uncomfortableness you feel when someone indirectly criticizes your choice of music.” You replied as he too paid for his record.

“So sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting you to have that taste.” He nervously laughed. “What are you doing after?”

“Getting a coffee.” You said. A coffee?! You didn’t even plan on getting a fucking coffee! Your mind went south. Did I sound like I’m inviting him to come? Was that too needy?

“Can I come?” He asked, looking somewhat desperate and you stopped yourself from panicking then a small smile formed in your lips.

“Yeah no problem.” You replied as both of you left the store and stroll to find a café.

On the counter, you insisted to pay for Roger’s coffee too. “It’s just because you have maybe spent too much before for those flowers and morning snacks.” You reasoned out.

“You don’t owe me anything. It’s really alright.” He replied as he tries to shove his money to the cashier but you’re holding his arm to prevent it. You gave an apologetic look to the cashier before turning your eyes back to Roger.

“But I want to. I stopped you before but you didn’t, so let me, please?” You gave him your puppy eyes that were never used ever since and he was instantly stunned. He wished that it would last forever. And you took that opportunity to pay for the bill. You gave a cheeky smile at him and led him to an empty seat.

“Oh no you’re doing too many things today, you are freaking me out.” Roger said as he sat in front of you.

“What?”

“You doing that eyes thing, and you smiling. Too many improvements today, I love it!” He said to you and your forehead crinkled. You realized that you’re having too much fun today. Oh there’s the word again. Is this really the effect of his presence to me? How much did he actually change in you? Your mind was once again clouded with thoughts. You snapped back in reality when the waitress served your coffees on your table. Although it made your forehead fold when he gave Roger a knowing glance. Okay, was that jealousy? You thought to yourself.

“Excuse me.” You said as you stood up heading to the restroom’s direction, you talking to yourself in the back of your mind. What the hell we’re you thinking? So what if the waitress is flirting with the man you’re with? You’re not even on a date. You sighed to your reflection in the mirror. Here we go again, the pathetic moments in you. You walked back to your table with Roger. It was full of silence, it was awkward to you, but it was comfortable to him.

“Rog I want to go home. Thank you for the time.” You said standing up.

“We didn’t even talked.” He said frowning.

“Ah, yeah sorry, maybe next time?” Your mind was panicking as you pick your cup and your belongings and quickly exit the café. Roger did not catch up behind, you were walking—no, running too fast.

That day, your mind drifted back to Roger once again during the night. You had let yourself do some ‘accepting or rejecting’ with all what happened and as when you were all set up to get to sleep, your brain screams Roger and there you couldn’t fall asleep.

You decided to write. Write your feelings instead. Maybe it will help you get some things off your mind.

Hi Roger. I like you. Then you crumpled the paper and threw it to the trash. And since that, you started asking yourself questions, more likely shouting those questions to yourself in exasperatedly manner.

“What’s the perfect first line?”

“Why are you thinking like you’re going to give this to him?”

You stopped yourself there. If writing your feelings about Roger would help ease your clouded mind? Will it help to silence your heart if you send this to him?

You started writing again.

Roger, I don’t know what you do to me. You crumpled and three it again.

“What the hell! Why is this so hard?” You screamed to yourself. And you sighed. Roger Taylor your serious effect on me is killing every inch of me.

Again.

You put your mind aside and let your heart talk. If you want to really have peace with this the letter should come from your stupid heart, in that way it would be sincere. Your mind will regret it later, but your heart wont.

Soon after you finished the letter, you folded it in half and insert it in the envelope; then sealed it with a wax seal. You addressed the envelope to Roger’s name and took the paper containing their address.

You stood from your chair and grab your coat. You glanced on your wristwatch. 10 pm. It’s definitely okay to walk around this late. You comforted yourself, though your heart raced again from nervousness about walking alone this late at night, and of course the letter itself.

You stepped outside and mumbles their street in your head countless of times. You know that street; just few blocks away. It took you full ten minutes to find their apartment; a three storey house. You slipped the envelope on their mail and walked back home. Your heart still racing as fast as before until you fell asleep on your bed.

Dear Roger,

I wanted to say I had so much fun spending time with you.

I’ve never actually felt this since a really long time and if I’m being honest, I disliked your eagerness but in the end it’s one thing about you that I admire the most. You never give up, and it’s a really good personality when you’re pursuing someone.

During those days you pick me up in the morning, or babble random topics in class, and walk me back home, I don’t like you then but I’m alright with your presence. I found myself longing for that when summer came, when I almost never saw you again.

You never really came in the best time; you caught me at really bad, dark, and lonely moments of my life; to the point where I would consider myself dead, not literally, but since you called me death on two legs, I guess you get it.

You planted gardens in this grave you know? You never left pieces of you because in the end, each and every of them would grow. You planted happiness in my lonely life, and instead to move on from it, I started looking and accepting it. I have never ever felt complete once again, and it only shows when I am with you.

Thanks to those lonely summers without you, I’ve come to realized this.

Love, Y/N

Roger stood up from the dining chair and bumps on the dining table that caused to spill Freddie’s tea.

“Roger! What are you doing?” Freddie hissed.

“It’s Y/N!” He said as he waves the paper in the air with excitement.

“What?”

“A letter from Y/N!” He screamed again, happiness is overflowing in his whole body.

“If that’s a confession then I would be happy for you. If not, shut up please.”

“IT IS!” Roger shouted then and Freddie stood up quickly to jump with Roger.

“How did this thing get here?” Roger wondered out loudly and stopped on this feet. “If this is a prank Fred, I’m going to kill you.” He said nervously and stares up to Freddie.

“No! I told Y/N our address, remember?” He replied cheekily.

“What!?”

“It’s was Y/N’s number I dialed before. No lies darling!” He replied.

“Oh shit!”

“Now go off and get your princess there!” Freddie said as he waves his hand shoving Roger off.

“Yes yes yes I will!” Roger ran. He made it to the door of your dorm in less than ten minutes, in which a normal pace could get you there from his apartment. He knocked or more like banged your door. He was thrilled, excited, if they say butterflies are in your stomach, hell the wings felt like there were angels instead. But ten minutes of knocking, still you weren’t out.

He overthought about the situation. Analyzed what happened. If he were just imagining things. But he glanced down on the paper he’s holding, there lies your confession. He was scared for the moment. What if you confessed your feelings because you were leaving? You’re never the one to tell someone your feelings that easy. What if you planned on confessing right before you’d leave? But why would she leave? Roger thought. But all of it was pushed aside when he hears footsteps towards him and he quickly looked where the sound came from. It was you; an eyebrow is raised to the sight of Roger, and his visible sweat in his shiny face.

“What are you doing here?” You asked and your eyes fell to his hands where his fingers clutch the paper in him. Your lips formed a small smile and looks back at him.

“This… uh…” Roger stuttered as he lightly backed away from the door and you unlocked it.

“Come inside?” You asked when the door opened. He nodded and steps inside as quickly as possible as if you’d shut it close before he could get inside. You chuckled at his actions.

“I-Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Is this all true?” He asked as he raise and waves the paper to you. You focused your vision to the paper and frowned.

“What’s that?” You asked as you bit your lower lip stopping yourself from smiling.

“Oh, was this not you?” He asked and he sounded so disappointed; very disappointed.

“Oh yeah, it was my heart.” You replied and started to walk towards your room. He stumbles as he follows behind you.

“What really?” and his mood changes instantly. His voice sounded squeaky and his legs felt like a jelly. “Can I hug you?” He asked when he held your wrist to stop you.

“Yeah?” He pulled you and engulfed you with a hug.

“I can’t believe this.” He whispered. “This doesn’t seem to be enough.” He added and you felt his lips grazing your ear.

“I know what you want.” You replied chuckling.

“Hmm yeah? Can I?” He asked lightly pulling his face away to look at you.

“No.” You said and laughed. He nuzzles his face on your shoulder.

“Damn it.” You laughed more. “But really? Planting gardens in graves? Funny metaphor. But I like it.”

“You do?”

“Yes. What have I planted in you besides happiness?” He asked, hands never leaving your body.

“Love.” You replied and smile.

“You sure you don’t want to kiss me? Because I’m hella sure this is where the part we need to do so.” He reassured and you laughed at him.

“I’m sure you could plant various of things to me—” you stopped when he snorted and started laughing. You hit his chest when you realized what he was thinking about. “But I would appreciate if we go slow. Let them grow before planting a new one.” You said and you held him closer to you. “And I think hug is enough for now.”

Roger did not complain. In fact, he’s already contented finally having you to him, no matter how very slow paced everything your relationship with him.

Tag: @rtyler19 @rogxrtaylxr —if I’m honest, I’m still thrilled with tagging omg, Lmao thanks!! (sorry for second tag? I accidentally posted this earlier but I wanna keep my words.)

[blondecarfucker]

Bed of Roses (Last Chapter - 21)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: THE LAST CHAPTER. I CANT FUCKING BELIEVE. i feel like before i start my thank yous i could give you some weird trivia on the story. i wrote the entire outline for the fic at a weekend shift at work, where i always have free time. i had some smaller ideas - them meeting at a bar and not seeing again, the whole kensingon-taxi-class thing from the beginning - but there was a sudden burst of inspiration and in like twenty minutes the outline was done, and very little has changed, i mostly just added some more details. also, i imagine the reader as alicia silverstone in the 90s?? idk. i just do. also, the reader thing with new york comes from the fact that i lived there for a while and i miss it so much, so thats why theres so much detail about places and stuff - its my form of revisiting my favourite spots there. also, will (REMEMBER WHEN) was written with sebastian stan in mind, and liv tyler (in her lord of the rings days) was poppy. i did too much research for this fic on queen history, and everytime i had to change something (especially in the first act) so the dates made more sense, it KILLED ME.

anyway, now the thank yous: SHIT THIS FIC IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT CHAPTER ON MY LIFE. its my first time writing such a long story without abandoning it, and my first time writing fiction in english, so i learned so much!! i was doing some research the other day, and the great gatsby is like 47k words long, and the first harry potter is around 70k words long - bed of roses is around 60k words long. this is crazy.

it's also my first story to get this many readers interacting with me, and i'm so grateful for you all!! i thought about thanking you all by name, but i dont want anyone to feel left out so i just want every and each one of you reading these words to know: if you read my story, thank you. thank you for giving me your time of the day, thank you for connecting with what i wrote, thank you for telling me in any way possible that you've enjoyed it. thank you. a writer must write, but theres not a lot of joy in talking to an empty room. you filled my small room with warmth and love and there's not enough words to express my gratitude for you all. thank you.

about my writing: i plan on FINALLY DOING THE MANY REQUESTS I HAVE IGNORED OVER THIS FINAL ACT OF BED OF ROSES - requests are still open, too! i'm also outlining a smaller roger x reader fic where she's one of the videographers on the news of the world documentary, so keep an eye out for that! i'm gonna open a permanent taglist for the requests (and eventual new fic), so if you want to be added, hit me up in the ask box/comments/inbox!

anyway i'll finally wrap up this chapter's note cause you have the final chapter to read. enjoy my loves

Words: nearly 4k

Warnings: none??? part of their dialogue is inspired by some of my favourite movies and books like her and the wife and almost famous and before sunrise and the fault in our stars and eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and maybe more I DONT KNOW ITS BEEN AN EMOTIONAL RIDE OK I CANT EVEN REMEMBER WHERE DID I PULL THIS FROM EXACTLY. some errors too cause i didnt revise it completely my bad im crying ok

 ACT 3 - DAWN

"It's the moment night time seems weaker and everything seems easier to figure out"

 Chapter 21

Roger lit a cigarette in the train cabin, and tried to open the top window, the one you can usually pull open.

"Rog, it's not gonna open, you know", you told him as you watched him fiddling with the glass.

"I guess you're right. Hope you won't be bothered by the smoke", he said, taking a puff.

"I won't if you share it with me", you answered, and with a half smile on his lips, Roger lifted the cigarette to your lips, and you breathed in the smoke while looking at him through your lashes.

"Don't look at me like that. Especially if the cigarette smoke is going to leave the cabin sultry and hot", he told you, and you laughed.

"Yeah, and we won't do anything about it", you said, trying to make yourself more comfortable in your seat.

"And why is that?", he asked, batting his lashes innocently at you, you you lightly elbowed his ribs.

"We need to do something else, something we've been ignoring the whole trip", you said, and he raised his brow. "We need to talk about us", you told him, and he breathed out, smoke coming out of his nose.

"I guess you're right again", he said, then slid a bit down on his seat.

You didn't think much about talking about your future with Roger while in Paris, so now has to be the time, on a train that will take you to London and to a whole month of Roger being away, promoting News Of The World.

While in Paris, you never talked to Roger about the future, and talks of the past where subtle - you talked about how you felt with the development Doctor Who took over the years, but didn't think much about the fact that you were separate during years of the show.

You enjoyed the city, but most of all, you enjoyed each other's presence, not only going to museums, churches and castles around you, following them up with fancy dinners and walks along the Seine, but you also spent time inside the room, in your pajamas, ordering take out from restaurants you found on the phone book, having a hard time trying to speak french as Roger tickled the sole of your feet and kept trying to distract you.

You would always remember the peace you felt as you ate cheap chinese food on Roger's shirt on the balcony at night, the Eiffel Tower shining over your meal and Roger's electric blue eyes as he hummed early David Bowie's songs under his breath, or how at home you felt sitting on the couch, Roger on the floor with his head on your lap, his soft strands on your fingers as you tried to braid them while watching re-runs of I Dream of Jenie, Roger focused, trying to understand the french dubbing until he noticed what you were doing.

"Babe, are you trying to braid my hair? Think I'd look better if I'd look more girly?", he said, moving his head back so he can look at you.

"Yeah. Always thought so, but I'll have to keep imagining, since your hair is too short to braid", you pouted, and he laughed.

"Don't you like my new hair, then?", he asked, pouting back, and you moved your head to his level so you could press a quick kiss to his lips.

"I love it, Rog. Especially cause since it's shorter, it looks even messier after I pull it", you said, and he smirked. "My favourite look of yours is when you're all dishevelled after sex", you winked, teasing him.

"That's my favourite, too", he said, turning completely around and pulling you in for a kiss, his hand on the back of your neck.

But now, while in the smoke filled train cabin, you needed to make a few things clear.

"I've been avoiding this for a reason", he said, looking out the window, and you raised your brow, waiting for him to explain. "I have this weird, innate fear of you telling me it's all good but you don't want to see me again, or something", he said, and you gave him a half smile.

"I don't want to do this, Rog. And I won't do it", you told him, and he sighed in relief.

"Even though loving you is a bit complicated, I'll admit. Especially if you're me", you shrugged, and he turned to you, confused.

"Let me explain. I loved your idea for a bed of roses, a few days ago, cause it can exemplify our relationship so well. The roses feel so good against the skin, the smell is so intoxicating, it looks so beautiful - maybe too beautiful, ethereal, even. But then there's always a few thorns here and there, and they hurt so much when they lodge themselves on my skin, but I'm so intoxicated by the whole experience that I don't mind - I convince myself that it's nothing, and even that it's already part of me already, cause the thorns fit so perfectly on me, on my little stabs made by myself, by my own insecurities", you say, and he stares at you.

"What I'm trying to say is that every minute that I'm with you always distract me from the issues that come with being with you - the fact that there's a few expectations that come with being your serious girlfriend, be them always travelling with you while we're young, or eventually staying home once we have kids, knowing that you'll eventually cheat on me with a younger version of myself, while I'm too tired of taking care of the babies to even think about my sexual needs", you said, and you watched him frown.

"I'm not sure where you're going with this-", he started saying, but you cut him off.

"Let me finish, I promise it will get better", you said, fixing your posture as you start again. "But the thing is, I love you. I always have, ever since I started talking to you, you always trying to outflirt me, always seeing me as your equal. You desire me, but you also listen and see me as another human being, you never back down or ignore me if I challenge one of your beliefs, and you never treat me as a trophy-wife-to-be", you say, and you can feel your eyes fill with tears, but you're smiling. That's what you always loved about Roger. He smiled back at you.

"And because I love you, I don't want to deny myself the pleasure of being with you. I'd rather be in a bed of roses than in an empty bed - or worse, a blank bed, someone being there just so it's less cold at night. I want to be with you, Rog", you say, and he pulls you in for a hug, and you hold him back for a few moments before pulling away and looking at him in the eye.

"But also because I love you and I want to be with you, Rog, I don't want us to try to fit into this type of relationship I just mentioned. I don't want you to make me the other woman, either, when you eventually find someone so you can settle down, if it's not me" you said, rubbing your nose. "I guess I want to settle down with you, eventually, as we planned before, but this whole thing - living together and cheating if we're away for too long - it kills me, and I think it kills you, too. I respect you too much to want to cheat on you again, cause if I ever do and you never find out, I'll lose respect for you, and the same thing will happen if you cheat on me and I don't find out. And these are ugly truths, but this isn't our first time together; we know each other, we need to think about this", you told him, and he nodded.

"And I need to make it clear that I'll never be a simple rockstar housewife - I'll never be able to quit my job and look out for the kids while you travel the world and I make them lunch. I'll never be able to sit down on a dinner table on some award show with you and when someone asks me what I'll do, I'll smile as I say I'm a king-maker. I'm not", you said, firmly.

"And I'll never be satisfied with dumb spa and shopping trips as you do the actual work when we travel. If I have to live this life, I'll resent you, and I don't want that. I like being domestic with you, but this type of forced domesticity will poison us again - we're both too wild, too career-focused, for this. We've always been similar", you said, and he gave you a smile as you sighed. "I guess that's all I have to say", you shrugged, and he laughed. "Not much, right?", he said, running his fingers on his hair, pulling the strands back.

"Guess it's my turn now", he said, and you nodded, encouraging him. "When I saw you again, at the pub, there was so much that I wanted to say. I mostly wanted to apologize - it got lost as I got infatuated with you again, and tried to get you in bed - you know, usual stuff", he winked, and you laughed.

"But yeah, I kept looking at you while you updated me on your life, your skin glooming under the stars and the moonlight, and I couldn't stop thinking about all the things I wanted to apologize to you for. All the pain we caused each other. Everything I put on you. Everything I needed you to be or needed you to say. Cause no matter what - even if you had decided on never seeing me again after all this - I'll always love you, because we grew up together. And you helped make me who I am", he said, moving strands of your hair behind your ear.

"I just want you to know that there will always be a piece of you in me, always. Whatever someone you become, wherever you are in the world, however this" he said, pointing his finger to the two of us "works out, in whatever form it might take", he said, sighing "I'll always send you love. Before being anything else to me - and I hope to God you're always something more - you'll always be my friend, to the end", he told you, and the tears were already streaming down your cheeks. His cheeks soon mirrored yours.

"And now, after you so eloquently told me all your fears about our future, I need you to know something else, too", he said, as you wiped the tears under your eyes. "I always loved you for being the way you are. You always challenge me, you always make me work harder, try harder, to be better. And it's not even something you force me to do; I just follow your lead. The way you look was what first got into me, I won't lie, but the way you are is what made me stay. It's what will always make me stay", he said, a genuine smile on his lips. He made you feel warm, like the sun.

"You're the smartest person I know, you're funny, you enjoy sex, you're unapologetic, you're proud of who you are, even proud of your insecurities. And you have such a huge importance in my life: you made me who I am. Whatever way you want to make us work, I trust you. I just want to be with you, in whatever form it takes", he said, smiling, and then getting up and opening his bag.

"I forgot to give you something", he said, pulling a string out of the front pocket. You recognized the red glimmer. It was the heart necklace. "It's still yours to keep. Even though it's not in its original glory, it will always be yours. The necklace and my heart", he said, and you couldn't help but smile at him.

"Always so cheesy, Taylor", you said, joking as you moved your hair to the side so he could put the necklace on.

"You always loved it", he winked, and you laughed. "I do", you said, smiling.

"So, what does it all mean? Where are we?", you asked, and he shrugged. "Wherever you want us to be. I just hope that you keep me around", he told you sincerely.

"I will. So, we're not going back to our old ways, right? We're not back at sharing a flat and stuff", you said, and he nodded. "Sure".

"And you're going to spend a month away, all around the world. I don't want you to feel pressured not to cheat", you said, and he nodded again.

"Yeah, and you're back in London, starting a new job. I don't want you to be worried, too", he said.

"So, maybe no exclusivity, this time? At least not now. This is still debatable, in the future", you said, and he agreed.

"Makes sense. But I'll have a hard time desiring anyone but you", Roger said in a low voice, and you laughed to break any mood that might have settled. You needed to get things clear before making out in the train cabin.

"Me too, Rog. But I don't want to create any expectations of loyalty because we know each other too well, and I don't want a stupid fight to break this thing we're building together", you said.

"It's a good idea. So, no titles, too? I can't call you my girlfriend?", he said, and you laughed.

"You can, if you want to", you told him, and he pulled you closer to him.

"Good, cause I want to call you that on the News of the World launch party, that I'm hoping you'll go as my date", he said, pressing a kiss on top of your head, breathing in your fruity smell.

"Of course I'll go. I need to see the boys again", you told him, and he laughed.

"So you're not going for me, then?", he pouted, and you laughed again.

"No, I'm just going so I can meet Deacy's kid", you told him, and it was his turn to laugh.

-

Once you got to London, Roger offered to go to the airport alone - he had to get on his flight, and he was late. He knew you had to go home and get ready for work tomorrow, but you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

He looked relieved when you got on a cab with him to Heathrow.

"Big day tomorrow, huh", he said, rubbing your arm.

"Yeah, I still can't believe I'm finally going to work at the British Museum. It's so surreal, it feels like a dream. Like I'm living someone else's life", you said, looking out at the window, the early sunday morning reminding you of fresh starts - you were in the middle of one.

"Well, it's your life, and it's your job, cause you deserve it, babe. I never met someone who worked so hard to get where they want", Roger said, smiling, proud.

"I did. You and the boys", you said, and he huffed. "Guess you're right. Me and that pack of idiots, we turned out okay", he joked.

Once you got to the airport, you followed him to his gate.

You were feeling nervous - you had him for a week, and now it's time to say goodbye again.

You're both aware that the rest of the band is already waiting impatiently in the jet, but you can't help it - you hug him, dropping your luggage on the floor, and he does the same, the hug soon turning into a kiss as you rub your hands on each other's body, as if you're trying to remember how every inch of the other feels like, as if you're both about to disappear.

But the airport worker clears her throat, and you break the kiss, looking at each other longingly.

"Don't say goodbye", you beg Roger, putting your hand on his lips as he opens his mouth.

"See you soon", he says between your fingers. You smile at him, grateful he found a way with words so you're not repeating the same old goodbyes.

"See you soon, Roger", you say, hugging him again for a few seconds, just trying to capture every detail - his smell, the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours.

And once he has to go into the jet, you go to the glass wall, and you can swear you see some familiar faces from the windows of the jet.

But before you can focus, soon Roger's well known face takes over the window you're watching, and he puts a hand on the glass.

You can't help but think about the last time you did that with him, him being on your place as you were inside the plane, moving to another country, your heart weighing down on you, filled with doubts.

But now your heart warmed you up, filled with joy and love, and you could feel Roger's crystal heart on top of your chest. He was right. There would be always a piece of him on you, too.

-

Epilogue: News of the World Launch Party

"Y/N! You're back!" Brian's voice welcomed you to the ballroom.

You squeezed Roger's hand - it was the first time you saw the band in years, and you couldn't help but feel a bit nervous about it.

"Darling, you're really back! We thought Roger was getting high too often and hallucinated a week in Paris with you. But I guess you did come back to him", Freddie said, hugging you by the side as he held a glass of champagne on his other hand.

"I'm back with him only so I can see you all again, of course", you said, winking at Roger as he pretended to be offended.

But then you heard Deacy and Veronica scream your name in unison, and you turned to see them.

"So you're really back!!" Deacy said, but your eyes were on the baby boy on his lap.

"This is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life.", you said, trying to get his attention. Roger looked at you, adoringly, as you moved your eyes to Veronica.

"Ronnie!! You're so big!" you said, trying to hug her through her belly. "It's coming out in a few months! It's a boy, Michael. Someone our young Rob can play with", she said, and Roger frowned.

"I could swear it was a girl", he said, and John smiled. "Maybe next time", he said.

"Hey, Bob. Do you want to play with me? C'mon", you said, and he motioned to go to your arms. You picked him up as he started playing with your hair.

"You'd be a good mom, Y/N", Veronica said, and you got tense. "God, Ronnie, don't even joke about this", you said, and Roger chuckled. "It's a sensitive topic at the moment", he explained.

"The moment will take quite some time, you know", you told him, the youngest Deacon pulling your earring before playing with the crystal heart on your neck.

You talked to the boys and Veronica for a while, updating each other, but no one brought up how you and Roger got back together. It just felt natural - no need to question.

You stayed with Roger for the whole night - behind the cameras as he did press, by his side during dinner - where he was back at his old ways, teasing you lightly with his hand under the table. You felt good in his arms, getting back into his life.

He was interested in getting back into your life, too. He came back to London last night, and went straight to dinner with you. You were trying different food, and now was time to try Indian food.

As he ate his Chicken Tikka Masala, dipping the naan in the sauce, you invited him for a party your bosses would be throwing next month to celebrate a new exhibit.

He gave you a bright smile. "I'd love to be your date, my love", he said.

And after the Deacons went home - Robert was asleep on his father's lap - the party got louder, the dance floor more full. You could swear you saw an angular face that could only belong to Bowie pick someone to dance - was this Princess Leia? - but before you could process the whole situation, Roger pulled you to dance.

"Thought you didn't dance, Mr Taylor", you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you tried to slow dance to All The Young Dudes, by Mott The Hoople.

"I don't dance very well, indeed. But it's just an excuse to be so close to you in public, and God, I'm dying to call you Ms Taylor", he said, and you chuckled.

"Take it slower, Rog", you told him, and he leaned in to rest his head on the curve of your neck. "And why do you want to be close to me in public? Is it still one of your weird fetishes?", you joked, and you felt him laugh against your skin.

"No, it's just that you've been killing me with this dress of yours, and you've been killing a lot of the guys here, too. Could swear I saw Bowie checking you out", he told you, and you gasped.

"Taylor, don't even joke about this. I'd have a heart attack", you said, and he laughed. "You'd leave me here for Bowie, is that it?", he asked, and you laughed.

"Of course not. I just have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he might acknowledge my existence", you said, and it was his turn to laugh. "The only eyes I really like to feel on me when I look away are yours, Rog", you said, and he gave you a quick kiss.

"Okay, had enough of trying to dance. Let's get some fresh air", he told you, and you followed him to the balcony.

As the cold, fresh air brushed against your exposed skin, you heard the first notes to Tiny Dancer, by Elton John. You walked to the balcony, leaning in and taking in the view of London at night.

Roger soon took you into his arms, hugging you from behind, and you felt safe, his body heart making you warm in the cold evening as he jokingly whispered "Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man" into your ear, and you scoffed. "Slower, Taylor", you told him, and he laughed.

"However you want it, babe", he said, now paying attention to the view, focusing on the feeling on you in his arms again. Finally.

 But oh how it feels so real

Lying here with no one near

Only you and you can hear me

When I say softly, slowly

 "I could die right now, Y/N. I'm just... happy. I've never felt this type of happiness before. I'm just exactly where I want to be", Roger said in his husky voice, and you nodded lightly in agreement.

Because in Roger's arms, you feel home. You feel what you hoped to feel for years - what got you to move to London in the first place. You feel like you belong.

---

1988 Special

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos @16wiishes @jennycidesstuff @partydulce @melros-e @onevisionliz

[illfoandillfie]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Summery: Roger’s delayed getting home from tour.

Warnings: SMUT (18+),but it’s like light smut lmao,cock warming,morning sex,just like some fluffy bullshit really

Words: 2326

A/N: Been a lil minute since I wrote Rog and I kinda missed him. this idea came to me last week and wouldn't leave me alone lmao

Taglist: @laedymoon​ @dtfrogertaylor​ @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon​ @kellypenac​ @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @supersonicfreddie​ @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​

It had been a couple of months since you’d seen Roger face to face. The biggest downside of dating a rock star was dealing with his absence. Everyone seemed insistent on dragging him away from you, often to the other side of the world. You took comfort knowing he missed you as much as you missed him, and that he was leaving you to live out his lifelong dream. What could be more important than that? When he was away, he called frequently to check in with you. You’d laugh about whatever drama he’d had to endure during rehearsal (though privately you were sure he exaggerated) and then you’d tell him all about what he was missing back home. But the further into the tour he got, the more the calls changed. Gone were the long conversations that unpacked every minute aspect of your day. They were replaced with long conversations that answered the question how was your day? in the first five minutes and dedicated the rest of the time to talk of possible ways to celebrate his eventual return, growing steadily filthier. The problem was that, having moved in together, you’d become accustomed to a certain amount of physical intimacy that you just weren’t getting without Roger there. You missed being able to startle him by laying ice cold hands against the back of his neck, missed cuddling up with him on the couch. You even missed the way he’d pinch your bum as he hugged you, laughing when you squealed in response and batted his chest with your palm. Of course, you missed the sex too. He’d always claimed to be a good lay and, so far, he hadn’t disappointed you. It wasn’t always easy to unwind after a long or hard day of work without being able to grab Roger by the hand and pull him into the bedroom for a few hours, and sometimes the forced abstinence just added to any tensions or stresses you were already dealing with. Plus it was nice to have someone you enjoyed having sex with, who liked making you feel good, and it kind of just sucked to lose that. So being stuck with nothing but your imagination soon had you desperate for Roger’s return and he seemed to feel the same. By the end of the tour you’d abandoned all pretence and we just having straight up phone sex every other night, Roger locked away in his hotel room, you wherever you’d happened to pick up the phone – bedroom or kitchen or lounge room, it didn’t matter.

There was some mild embarrassment at the thought of what may be said of you if anyone were to overhear. Things mentioned in the heat of the moment often seemed silly after you’d hung up, the fog of needy lust subsiding. But while you were on the phone you couldn’t care less who heard what, as long as Roger was there, listening to you, describing his own ideas in response. It was good that Roger had just as large a disregard for anyone else’s ears as you because you were sure one of the boys would be in the room next to his, probably able to hear everything he said. Perhaps if they’d been able to hear your voice, your moans, you would have been more concerned, but you were alone on your end of the line, free to be as loud as you liked. And when you were lying in bed, one hand shoved down the front of your pants, listening to Roger describe how he wanted to fuck you, loud is exactly what you were. The hand that wasn’t pressed to your clit held the phone held tight to your ear, as if loosening your grip would shake you loose from Roger himself.

“Christ I miss your cunt,” he groaned down the line, the sound of his hand sliding over his dick audible beneath his words, “tell me you miss my cock,”

“God yes Rog,” you whined, a little startled by just how much you meant it. “Miss how you fuck me. My fingers are fucking shit compared to the way it feels when you fill me,”

“Shit, love. The second I see you I’m going to slide into your pussy and just stay there for as long as I can.”

“I’ll squeeze down on you,” you warned, not in the mood to think about being full and unfucked.

“Good. I’ll cum in you and then stay there until you’re squirming and begging and I’m hard enough to pound you. Fuck you so loud the neighbours complain. Might even keep myself stuffed inside you until I can start round three.”

“Jesus Rog,”

“You like the sound of that? Being my own personal cock sleeve?”

“Mmhmm, so much. You could live in me. Just stay inside me forever, fucking me and pumping me full of cum over and over.”

“Fuck. I can hear how wet you are.”

So it usually went, or something similar.

But, unfortunately, your most recent phone call was nowhere near as fun. Roger had meant to be home by six. You’d been excited and spent the afternoon getting things ready. A nice hot bath with your favourite scents, fresh sheets for you to ruin the minute he walked in the door, a bottle of wine for afterwards. It would pair nicely with the steaks and sides you’d prepped – all easy and fast to cook as soon as you’d recovered enough. You even put on some of your nicest underwear. Not your fanciest lingerie because it was likely to be torn in his haste to undress you, but it was a matching set and one you knew he liked. But six o’clock came and went and he didn’t walk in the door. Enough time passed that you’d gotten cold waiting in just your undies, so you’d thrown a robe over the top and settled in front of the TV under a blanket. But it was hard to relax when you didn’t know where Roger was or why he hadn’t come home when he said he would. After a few more hours the phone rang and you raced to it, slightly worried you were about to hear something devastating. You sighed in relief at the sound of Roger’s voice but he didn’t have much time to chat. He rushed out an explanation for his being late – something about a weather delay and missing luggage – and then hung up again. A little upset at having to wait even longer to see him, and that your night had been ruined, you fixed yourself a quick dinner, leaving the steaks for the next day instead. You didn’t change though, just in case, your head flicking towards the front door at every little sound. It was late when you finally decided to call it a night, stumbling up to your room, not even bothering to change into pyjamas before you slipped under the covers.

The next thing you knew was being woken by someone climbing into bed next to you, the chill of his fingers making you shiver as he brushed hair off your face. You cracked an eye open, but the sun hadn’t risen and it was hard to see more than a vague outline, Roger’s quick apology for waking you confirmation of who he was. He felt you move to try and get a better look and softly told you to go back to sleep. Instead you waited for him to finish undressing and then shuffled closer, reaching out for him. He let you wrap your arms around him, repaid you with a soft kiss.

“You’re home,” you mumbled, not fully awake.

“Finally. Sorry I’m late,” his voice was low and rough and comforting to hear, right beside your ear, undistorted by connection issues and distance, “Fucking terrible night. But I’m glad to see you again.”

“Not quite the welcome I’d planned,” you said through a yawn.

He laughed softly and kissed the tip of your nose, “Me neither.”

“I got all dressed up and everything,”

Roger raised the blankets into the air, peaking under, trying to see what you meant, letting out a low whistle and a “now I really wish I’d been here sooner,” though you weren’t convinced he could actually see the set through the grey black of the early hour.

You laughed sleepily and raised a hand to stroke his cheek as he fell back to the pillow.

“I was thinking about you the whole way home,” he broke off to yawn, “Had to have a quick wank halfway across the Atlantic,” he yawned again and let his eyes shut for a moment, blinking them back open to look at you with a hint of his cheeky grin.

“Remember when you said you’d fuck me as soon as you saw me,”

“Not sure I have the energy for that. Don’t think you do either.”

You hummed in agreement, the sandman tugging at the corners of your brain, but there was another idea there too. Something more insistent. You tightened your grip on Roger, adjusted yourself to be more comfortable, pulled his head closer to the crook of your neck, able to feel his warm breath on your bare skin. “Kinda want you inside me anyway, Rog.”

“Really?”

The more you thought about it the more you wanted it. You’d missed his presence in the house, the smell of his shampoo and his cigarettes and his aftershave all mixed together, the way his laugh could fill a room, how it felt to sit in the backyard on a warm day and listen to him plucking at one of his guitars, the way he smiled when he said he loved you. And now that he was back all you wanted was to keep him close, listen to his every breath, feel his hair tickling your neck, the scratch of his stubble before he shaved, his warmth seeping into your skin. Just lying beside him wasn’t enough. You wanted to drown in him, completely and utterly surround yourself in him. But that was too hard to explain so early in the day, when you’d had only a couple hours sleep and he seemed to be running on even less. So you replied with a short, “Mmhmm,” lilting upward, and dropped your lips to the top of his head.

“You sure?” his question was an exhale against your throat, fingertips dancing closer to the waistband of your knickers.

“Positive. Just for a bit, please,”

He stifled another yawn as he pushed your underwear down, letting you kick them off one foot as he got rid of his own. There was a pause as he ran his hand along his length in long lazy strokes, a needy whine caught on the tip of your tongue as you waited. But it died there, replaced by a gasp as he pulled your leg over him and slowly sunk into you. Your fingers tightened where they lay and you felt his groan as vibrations against your throat as he filled you inch by inch.

“You okay?”

“Perfect,” you whispered back, “Welcome home.”

Roger hummed and breathed deep, taking a moment to wiggle into a slightly more comfortable position, hitching your leg up a little higher, tilting your head down so he could find your lips again. You saw his eyes flutter shut as he relaxed into the pillows, content to just stay like that until he could summon the energy to do more. You let your own eyes shut too, relishing the way it felt to be stretched around him, listening to his breaths slowing down and evening out.  

It was Roger’s groan that made you stir. An almost desperate sound, though he tried to keep it quiet. Slowly you blinked your eyes open, trying to tell whether Roger was awake yet too, or whether the noise was made in his sleep. You could see him clearer now, the bags under his eyes, the ruffled unkempt look of his hair. Your leg was still slung over him, slipped a little from where he’d placed it, and without thinking you made to move it back. Roger groaned again as a small gasp left you, the full memory of what had happened the previous night returning to you. It was weird, waking up so full, but not unpleasant.

“Y/N,” he sighed, “you up?”

“Mmhmm,”

“Love, do that again and we’re going to have a mess to clean up,” he warned, softly.

“How long you been awake?”

“Not long. But you’ve been clenching around me a bit in your sleep and I’m so close.” The last two words were almost pained and you briefly considered moving, letting Roger go so he could calm down sufficiently. But you were comfortable and happy wrapped around him and the memory of your phone calls nagged at the back of your mind, “You can let go,”

“What?”

“I’m… what’d you call me…your personal cock sleeve? So let go,”

Roger stared at you, eyes wide though still tired looking, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. But, when you didn’t take it back he leaned in to kiss you, rocking his hips against you slowly, letting out a low noise as you felt him empty inside you. You kissed him in return, stroked his cheek as he calmed down. Just for a moment you let your eyes slip shut again, basking in the feeling of it all. When you looked back at Roger he was still staring.

“I love you,”

“Good, I don’t plan on letting you leave this bed much today,”

“Sounds good to me,” he laughed softly, following it with a hiss when you intentionally clenched on his sensitive dick again, “wait, wait love, give me like another minute.”

You apologised and settled for another kiss instead, leaving a few extra along his jaw until he was able to make good on his earlier promises.

[16wiishes]

Broken promises

Paring: 70!Roger Taylor x Reader, eventually Ben hardy x Reader

Warning: angst maybe

A/N: Hey darlings, let me know what you thing, English isn’t my first language I’m sorry for my mistakes, i got inspired here on tumblr a long time ago I don’t remember who it was so credits to that person... enjoy

November...

Weddings. How fun. It’s the most beautiful day of a woman’s life, you get married to the man of life or you get to see the love of your life getting married and that’s my case.

Tomorrow, I will get to see my best friend, the love of my life getting married to a woman that he knows only for 2 years and me? Well, a lifetime. I have had promised him that I would be there. I’m trying my best to put my shit together, no success. This sucks, you know what else sucks? Being in love with someone that you can’t have.

And his wife? Absolutely beautiful, she’s nothing like me, that’s probably the problem. I have been crying for days and days, but cry will not solve anything.

“ Y\N, get up, we need to find you a dress “ Freddie said looking into my eyes

“ I don’t want to, Freddie I can’t do this “ i said feeling tears in my eyes, he knows all my history with him, the ups and the downs mostly

“ you promised him Y/N, now you have to go” he was right i did promise him

“ fine “ getting up and taking off my close for a hot and long shower, I cry quietly while washing my hair, I have never thought in my life that I would cry for a man, as a teen I thought that it was the worse thing that I girl could do, cry for a fucking man, but the problem was he wasn’t any man.

I got of the shower, did my light make up and my hair as well.

“ Are you ready darling ?“ Freddie asked

“ ready, let’s get this over with ” I said grabbing my keys I walked straight to my car, Freddie following close, the ride to the mall was quiet, some songs in the background just for a distraction, until love of my life was playing, almost breaking the radio to shut it off and Freddie looking at me in disbelief.

“ I’m sorry Freddie, I love this song but not right know” looking at the road again

“ What kind of dress you are thinking of? “ he broke the silence

“ something that I will only use once in a life time, because I will burn it at the end “ I said coldly but it was true, I never want to see anything that will remind me of this awful day

“ come on Y/N, I know that you are hurt but try to feel happy for him”

“ I am, I’m just mad at myself “ turning my head to the street to remind me to always look forward

“ for what ? “

“ for not telling that I loved him “ but he knew exactly what I was talking about

“ I’m sorry, darling, but you have to such it up, now it’s too late the love of your love will come around maybe not here but one day. “ What Freddie said did make me feel a little better, sometimes I think he has all the answers

“ yeah me too “

The rest of the ride was normal, we were just talking about random things. I parked my car and got to the first store that I saw, wasn’t an bad store, I got myself a vintage dress. Black and nude tones with a nude heels

Freddie also brought his clothes as well, we ate and I left his house, When I got home, I started some me-crying-time, put some mask just to relax and opened a bottle of wine, some of the saddest songs was playing in the air until I cried myself to sleep.

{ weeding day }

The day has come, the day that I said to myself too late honey. Yeah well what can I do today? nothing at all, friends and family will be there obviously so have to put my best fake smile

I got up from my comfy bed, and started getting ready for this day, the wedding starts at mid day so I only got 2 hours to get ready. In those 2 hours I did my make up, my hair, put my dress and prepared myself for the worst, but first, trying not to cry

I got into my car, started the engine and I drove the church as I was getting closer to it I felt my eyes watering.

I parked my car and sat there for a minute or two just thinking of the one option that I had getting the engine started again and never going back, but I knew I couldn’t do that

And then, I saw him, he was with the biggest smile that I have ever seen

“ hey You came, you look beautiful “ Roger said, with his perfect blue eyes that could stop a war

“ Thanks, i promised, didn’t I “ I said trying to be as happy as possible

“ yeah you did, are you ok Y/N, you look a little down today”

“ No Rog, I’m fine, just need a drink or two “ the is thing, I needed more then just a drink or two to go over with this day, he just chuckled

“ go ahead then “

It has started. The ceremony. I just wanted to woke up from this horrible nightmare but the alarm never rang. I just stood there looking at the void, when I heard the words “If anyone has any objection to this wedding, speak now or forever hold your peace.” Rog looked into my eyes in that moment. Should I say something? Freddie got a hold on my hand I just looked down.

The rest of the evening when like a blur, him and the bride, smiling and dancing and I was at the table drink my sadness was.

“Hey Y/N how are you holding up?” Brian asked, taking me away from my thought.

“ Hey Bri, I’m fine, I’m good... hum I’m happy for him, really and just gonna do this speech then I’m gonna go and probably never come back” before he could say anything, the planner of the wedding said it was time for the speech, i shallowed my whisky and went for it

“ you got this” Brian putting his thumbs up por me

“ thanks Bri” I walked to the stage, everyone was looking at me

“ hey everyone, I have had a few drinks back there so if I start rambling my bad, so when I was 16 I promised Rog that I would do the first speech at his weeding... wow I just realized that I promised Rog a lot of things” the people started laughing like it was a joke but actually for me it wasn’t because there was only one promise that i couldn’t make it happen... that we would be get gray and old together.

“ anyway, I have never thought that he would marry anyone else, but me, i waited to long and know I realize that it’s too late, all I wish for you is your happiness even if it’s above my own, Dominique girl, you won the lottery really, he is the most caring man I know, You’ll get to spend your life with him, grow old together, see him every day for the rest of your life… Now, Brian here, he would say that’s a nightmare. But it isn’t. It’s a dream. And Rog…”

We’ve been friends for a very long time, and I like to think that I’ve always had your back. Today, you start a whole new book, and I’m sorry to lose my role in it, but I know Dominique will do an amazing job. I plan on starting a new book as well, somewhere else,” I say, and his eyes widen in surprise, or shock, maybe both. “And I hope one day I’ll be lucky enough to have what you two have. I wish you a happy, happy life, the kids you’ve always wanted, and all the love you deserve. Congratulations to my best friend and his bride.” I conclude, raising my glass saying nothing to anyone, I just started walking to the door and probably never coming back again. I didn’t know where I was going until I saw an park bench, I sat there looking at the crystal clear water.

“ what do you mean somewhere else ? “ he said with that husky voice of his

“ I’m moving Rog, to the other side of London tomorrow and I will probably never comeback again”

“ why Y/N, I need you, you are my best friend “

“ Rog, if I stay I will be miserable, if you ask me to stay I will but it will kill me seeing you with her I can’t do this really” i said with tears in your eyes and I saw tears in his as well

“ no Y/N.... “ he stopped himself and realized that she was right “ then go, start a new book a new life, forget about me “ he said with tears running down his blue eyes.

“Two broken hearts and a broken promise” the last thing I said to him, I hugged him one last time before I stared walking in the cold November evening leaving the love of my life behind.

I got all my things from my apartment and i drove to the other side of London it was an 5 hours drive from where I lived. As a Guns N’ Roses fan the only song that was i my mind was November Rain. This song was basically my life, it was November, the love of my life married someone else and just stared raining how beautiful and I lost him forever, almost like the died. I just pulled my car in the parking lot and walked to some bar, sat there with the bartender, asking him for a whiskey then a blond guy was sitting next to me, I didn’t mind, but then I broke the silence

“ if I was in my right mind I would have been fangirling by now” I saw his GN’R t-shirt and I knew that he would understand if I said something about the song that is basically my life at the moment, taking in my hand the glass of whiskey and drinking down at once, he turned his head to look at me, he can have a real talk with a fan that isn’t trying to hook up with him and everything, right ?

“ and why aren’t you in your right mind? “ he asked curiously

“ because the only song that is in my head is November rain “ I said looking at him now, the two of us making eye contact

“ why? It’s a sad song“

“ well, it’s raining, it’s November and the love of my life just got married “ I said faking a smile to him “ I’m Y/N by the way “ you completed

“ Ben, as you know, the only thing I can say to you is that we are in the same boat “ he said

“ why’s that “

“ i just ended a 10 years relationship“ Ben said

“ I’m sorry”

“ nothing lasts forever “ he said looking at me, he took my hand in his and smiled

“ but we both know that hearts can change “ I said looking at him and smiling down

The night was better at this point, Ben and I talked the whole night I even meet his friends they are cool, Joe was already one of my best friends, but the night was just Ben and I talking about everything and Anything the promises that we made to the pleople in our life.

“ is getting late I should to go” i said paying for my beers

“ i will walk you to you car it is very dangerous in London at night for pretty girls like you “ Ben said getting up i just nodded and chuckled at the same time, saying goodbye to the guys. Ben walked to my car

“ so this is it “ i said

“ N/Y wait, i really liked you and I’m hoping this isn’t a goodbye.” His eyes looking into mine own

“ not at all, I will be here for a while, so we can get to know each other more “ I said unlocking my car

“ we will se each other around” Ben said, he kissed me goodnight

“ bye Ben, see ya “

“ see ya Y/N. “

I got into my car and drove to the hotel I was staying just until I get my apartment , as I drove I started to think that good things can happen in a November rain and the nicest part is that you weren’t the only one with a broken-heart, but know that discovered another lost love story, there are 4 broken hearts and 2 broken promises

[bohemian-war]

‘LOVE WILL TEAR US APART’ [CHAPTER 2]

(Credits to @bens-hardy  for the gif).

Ben Hardy!Six x Fem Reader (Six Underground)

Summary (Six Underground): The film tells the story of 6 billionaires who form a vigilante squad by faking their deaths to take down notorious criminals. Warnings: language, character development, flirting, alcohol…

Word Count: 2.5k+ (…sorry that it’s too short)

A/N: Hi guys! Sorry that this took so long. I have been extremely busy these past few weeks so I hope you really enjoy this part. I am also taking my time as I don’t want to reveal everything straightaway so even when this chapter feels like a filler one, don’t you worry because from chapter three I am gonna start explaining everything about the Six Underground organisation and it really takes off from there :D. Also, in case you were wondering, I always imagined Joe as John as that bass player in The Black Heart ;). When it comes to Brian, it’s always been Machine Gun Kelly’s look as Tommy Lee in The Dirt. He is gonna play a big role in this story. So stay tuned!

(Credits to @geidiprimezs for the gif). Finally, I am sorry for all the grammatical/structure errors. Again, English is not my main language so I apologise for that. I always try to write more dialogue as a) it is easier to read; b) even when I love description I suck at it so I am sorry if you always find the same word/expression in every sentence. I always tend to write as to how the story is developed in my head in the first place. So, I am sorry. I am trying to get better at it, I promise. I cannot even express myself properly in my mother tongue. It is something I’ve struggled with since I was a child and it keeps getting worse due to my anxiety so bear with me on that one! 

-------------

PART 1

(I will do a master list and a playlist soon :D).

-------------

Disclaimer:

– Fem Reader is a twenty-one-year-old med student studying at the Imperial College London.

– Ben (Six) is a twenty-eight-year-old billionaire.

The story takes place in 2019 but there are flashbacks to make the whole thing look more realistic.

Finally, the outfit that Ben is wearing to play the drums is the one on the gif (beanie included :P) and this is the reader’s:

Enjoy!

[Y/N POV]

Y/N AND ELLIE’S APARTMENT, LONDON. PRESENT DAY.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for something…” you say focusing all your attention to your laptop’s screen.

“Is this about that playboy boyfriend of yours again?”

“Ellie, I already told you that he is not my boyfriend. He was just being nice...”

“Playboy boyfriend or Prince Charming. It does not matter. All of them are basically the same. They act nice and then they trap you in their spider web to get in your pants.”

You roll your eyes and ignore her comment.

“He is like a ghost! It is like he’d just vanished!”

She makes her way to the couch and sits next to you with a cup of tea in her hand.

“Maybe he is not on social media. I mean… Six? What kind of name is that?”

You sigh as Ellie sees you scrolling down on Facebook desperately.

“If you’d like, we could always try and track him down… Perhaps if you ask some people in the pub…”

“I am not going back,” you affirm bluntly.

“Then, I don’t know how I could help you, love.”

You sigh again and turn your gaze towards her.

“It is okay. I just wanted to thank him properly for what he did.”

“Are you sure this man even exists?”

“Ellie…”

“Okay, okay. Just sayin’”

You sigh again for the third time and look back at the screen. You slam it down close and stand up.

“You know what? I had enough. I might pop up to the National Gallery for the new music bands exhibition. Are you coming?”

“I’d love to but I am helping Eric with his new project.”

“New project?”

“I’ll keep you updated as I don’t even know what I am doing myself. Knowing Eric though it might involve RuPaul and drags and stuff…”

You laugh and shake your head.

After spending so much time debating about your outfit, you finish getting ready and take the first train from your place to Charing Cross. When you get off and go out into the street, the square is full of people. On the one hand, tourists who do not stop taking pictures with their selfie sticks and, on the other, locals who return home after a long and hard day at work. You make your way to the main entrance and grab a map from the foyer area. The exhibition is huge so you decide to visit the rock section first.

NATIONAL GALLERY, LONDON. PRESENT DAY.

You are simply surprised by the amount of memorabilia. The gallery shows the history of the biggest names in music: AC/DC, David Bowie, Iggy Pop, The Rolling Stones, Mötley Crüe, Led Zeppelin… The collection also includes handwritten song lyrics, costumes worn during performances, studio equipment, promotional material, and singles. One of the spaces is beautifully dedicated to Queen and your eyes end up admiring various musical instruments; from John Deacon's bass guitar and a replica of Brian May's synthesizer to Roger Taylor's drum set.

Suddenly, you look away and come across with a familiar face. Casual look and hands in his pockets. He is also looking at the drum set. He is so lost in it that he barely notices you. You smile and decide to approach him.

[Six POV]

“Hey… It’s you!”

You direct your gaze towards that voice and your heart skips a beat. You never thought you would see her again. You could barely see her features under the dim light of the pub left alone when you both talked in the street. Nevertheless, everything changes now and you seem… speechless?

Wake up, you stupid asshole! “I just saw you admiring Rog’s set and thought that it’d be nice to say “hi”, Six right?”

She holds out her hand for you to shake. You eventually do.

“That’s thoughtful of you… Y/N?”

Of course, I remember your name…

She nods.

“Do you like music?”

“Who doesn’t?” Y/N smiles.

What a stupid question…

“I mean, the rock of the 70s and 80s…”

“Are you kidding? It was the best music! It still is… I think everything started with The Beatles back in the 60s though…”

You look at her with interest. You are surprised by her taste in music and want to know more.

“What is your favourite band?”

I cannot believe I am asking her these childish questions…

“Joy Division, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Queen… That’s why I decided to come to the exhibition today. They have done a great job so far.”

“Are you a Queen fan?!”

“Of course! I might have the biggest crush on Roger Taylor…”

I…like…you…

“All the girls do. I mean, he is alright…” 

“Alright? Have you seen him in the 70s? He is literally gorgeous! Like a Renaissance painting.

You scoff and shake your hand at her obsession while running your tongue through your bottom lip.

“So… he’s alright…” Y/N repeats your words pointing at Roger’s set emphasising what you just said. “That’s why you were so lost in the kit!”

“No, I wasn’t!”

Liar…

“You look a little bit like him, to be honest…” Y/N smirks.

What…

She is approaching you now. She squints her eyes.

Too close…

“If only you had longer hair though…” her voice coming out like a whisper.

“What would you do?” 

“Hmmm?”

“If I had longer hair… What would you do?”

You see her parting her lips and hold your gaze. Your eyes like blazing fire. If looks could kill or do something else… “I wanted to thank you for what you did last night but… I couldn’t find you and…”

“Don’t even mention it. It was my pleasure.” you cut her off and quickly run your fingers through your hair.

“Right…”

You try to avoid looking at her directly in the eyes because of the effect she has on you; a kind of warm feeling going down your spine, You don’t really know what it means but it kinds of scare you.

"Oi Six!" Suddenly, you see a tall man approaching and giving you a small pat on the back. You cannot help but return it with a big smile.

"Hey, what's up man?!"

"Brian, mate, how are you doing? Long time no see!"

“Good, I have not seen you in a while!”

“I have been busy…” You frown and sigh.

“I went to The Black Heart and Bobby told me that you would be here. Playing tonight?”

“Yeah. Hopefully, I’ll be able to make it by nine.”

“Great!”

Brian turns around and sees Y/N standing in an awkward position.

“Who’s this? New friend?”

You start feeling the tension built in the pit of your stomach. You clench your jaw.

“Sorry! That was rude of me. I am Brian.”

“Not at all! is it Brian for Brian May?”

“Wow! I like her.”

You cannot help but glare at him.

Watch it, mate…

“Unfortunately, I am not May but if you say so, I’ll take it,” he winks at Y/N.

“My name is Y/N by the way,” she holds her hand out again.

“Are you a Queen fan?”

“I certainly am.”

“Then you should come to The Black Heart tonight. Our friend Six here is gonna play. He is obsessed with Roger Taylor. He is his muse!

“Really?”

Y/N’s face lights up but you cannot tell whether is of surprise or emotion. She squints her eyes.

“The Black Heart…”

“Do you know it?” Brian asks in surprise.

“We actually met there…” you cut him off.

“Oh great! Everything settled then.”

“Brian…” you warned him.

“Are you playing too?” Y/N shows some interest.

“I’ll be there with some friends but I am not playing tonight.”

You can see the doubt in her eyes and you intervene before it gets worse.

“I am sure she’s got plans anyways, Bri.”

“Actually, I’d like to come!”

Fuck…

You curse and roll your eyes at the stupid situation. That pain in the chest again.

“Great! See ya both there then.”

[Y/N POV]

You definitely don’t want to return to the pub but there was something dragging you back there. It was probably the fact that you were very curious about watching Six play live. For some reason, you could not picture him behind a drum set and you were still mad at him for lying to you. On the other hand, it’d be nice to see him fail. 

You made sure you were properly dressed this time. You did not want to get into any more trouble so you opt for a pair of fitted jeans, a nice top, high heels boots, and a black leather jacket.

Summer was about to start but it does not make any difference when you are leaving in London anyway. Ellie is not at home anymore so you finish cleaning, lock up, and make your way to the pub.

THE BLACK HEART, LONDON. PRESENT DAY.

[SIX POV]

“What time is your girlfriend coming?”

The boys are setting up and getting ready for the big night. The pub is already full of people chatting and having a nice time. 

“I already told you that she is not my girlfriend, Brian.”

“Well, she is hot…”

“She is a kid.”

“I mean, if you don’t like her…”

You drop one of the mics and turn around with an angry look in your face.

“Don’t even think about it!” you growl. Your friend laugh.

“That’s what I thought, mate…”

You scoff and shake your head.

“Just make sure that you never play “I am in love with my car” in front of her or she will run away.”

“Oh, shut up!”

THE BLACK HEART (20:45 pm)

(”Princess of China” by Coldplay is playing)

[Y/N POV]

You arrive at the pub and it is already packed. You sigh and enter into an anxious mode. You simply couldn’t help but think of what happened the night before. Somehow, you manage to brush those thoughts off and get to the counter. This time, Ellie is not here with you so you have your ID ready in case they ask for it.

“What would you like lovely?”

“Just a coke, please.”

The bartender leaves and comes back with a glass full of the beverage and ice a few seconds later.

“There you are, sweetheart…”

“Thank you!”

You reach for your purse when you see the man shaking his head.

“It’s on the house…”

“Really? Thanks!”

The man nods and continues serving. You grab your drink and take it to your lips while observing the place again. You spot the empty stage in the distance including the drum set.

Where are you?

Suddenly, you hear a screeching noise coming from one of the microphones. It’s Brian!

“Night everyone! Some of you might already know me,” he says adjusting the mic to his height. “I am Bri. I was not planning on playing tonight but there has been a change of plans.”

Some people star clapping as he lifts his guitar up. You smile and take another swig from your coke with enthusiasm.  “I’d like to introduce you to some people. This is John our bass player. And before someone makes the joke, no, we are not Queen.”

Many people start laughing.

“Finally, our special member, Six, on the drums…”

“Six, we love you!” You could see a couple of girls whispering and cheering about the drummer. You roll your eyes. So predictable…

“Sorry, ladies but Six will be just hitting on the drums tonight, I am afraid…”

You are thankful for Bri’s intervention and smile shyly to yourself shaking your head with amusement at the same time.

Six is sat behind the set of drums with a smug look on his face. He is finishing getting ready and checking on his equipment. He takes a swig of water and some drops stained his t-shirt. If he is nervous he knows very well how to hide it.

“We are gonna do some covers tonight,” Brian continues“… and we also have a surprise by the end of the night. So bear with us and we hope that you are all not to pissed to miss it.”

More laughs.

The list of covers is long but good; from “A Message” by Coldplay to “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” by The Beatles.

“And now… our final song…”

This catches your attention even more and all the pub goes quiet.

“…for a friend who’s currently in the room…” Brian puts on his visor and finally spots you.

“Y/N! there you are!”

Suddenly, a spotlight points directly in your direction and you have to cover your eyes due to the bright light. Everybody is staring at you and you start panicking. You freeze in your stool and feel a heat sensation in the pit of your stomach.

Oh no…

“Y/N loves Queen so we could not say goodbye without playing a song by the band itself. We will do the chorus and Six here will do the rest. “This is Crazy Little Thing Called Love”, everybody! Y/N we hope you like it…

When they finish, they are cheered by everyone and quickly get off the stage. You see Six approaching you and start playing with your straw while pretending to be drinking from your third coke of the night.

“Hey…”

“Hey…” you sigh.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

Six makes a sign to the bartender for what you assumed was a beer but he immediately directs his green eyes right back at you.

“Yeah, I mean, it was alright…” He raises an eyebrow and a smile begins to form at the corner of your lips. He shakes his head.

“Just alright?”

“Hmmm, I’d say meh.”

You wrinkle your nose in uncertainty and Six observes you with a funny look on his face.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“I don’t drink…”

“Right…”

“But I will have one last coke. I will probably not sleep tonight with that much caffeine in my body though. I also feel that I should be paying for this,” you lift up your glass.

“It’s okay. I told Bobby that you are my host tonight. You can have anything you like. It is on me really…”

You frown and smile.

“Thanks…”

“Don’t even mention it.”

He grabs his pint and takes a big swig of it.

“I didn’t know you could play that well.”

“How could you know anyway?”

Rude.

“I truly enjoyed it, honestly.”

“I thought you said it was alright…”

“You were though…”

“Me?!”

You try to contain your laughter.

“Did you even see how I was banging those drums, love?”

Love…

“I know better…”

You could tell that he is offended.

Touché.

“What the f…”

“Roger Taylor is better than you!”

“Well, Roger fucking Taylor wished he could be me.”

Six scoffs and takes another large swig of his beer trying to hide behind his cruel words. You know he did not mean them. He adores Roger…

“Tommy Lee…”

“A total wanker!”

“Not true.”

“Well, he makes decent music. Not my style though.”

Six’s cockiness is back. A defence weapon. 

“He does the real spinning…”

“I can do that too.”

“Sure…”

“I could show you if you let me…” he grins at you.

He leans into you and his big green eyes start taking everything of you in. His warm breath fanning over your face. That feeling in the pit of your stomach, again.

What is wrong with you Y/N?

Tag List: @bjhardy  @pizzaplanets @mrbenhardys @bens-hardy @onceuponadetectivedemigod  @benhvrdys @closertothesunwhenimwithyou @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @calumfornicationx @poteda @hergewi @tanya-is-dead @imthewintergirl @rogerina-taylorr @sara-1705  @jessevans

[wewillwriteyou]

Friends Will Be Friends || Chapter 1

Prologue

A few elements from the main plot: A very special group of friends: early days, drama, laughter, booze, success, rock stars life, girl power, friendship, love, sex, music, misunderstandings, some more drama, family. Pairings in the tags

Summary Chapter 1: Introduction of some of the main characters (Melissa, Roger). We don’t wanna give away to much, just read it lol

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: mention of alcohol, a little bit of swearing and angst (blink and you won’t see it)

A/N: We’re sooo excited to share with you the first chapter of our story. Please feel free to comment below and let us know what you think. If you need more information, click on the link at the beginning of this post. If you want to be tagged, our tag list is always open 💕

Giggles. That’s the thing that woke Mel that Saturday. Well, that and almost every other Saturday morning of the year, actually.  She slowly got up from the bed, rubbing her eyes and walked towards the source of the noise, which she already knew it to be some floozy girl sitting on the kitchen counter. And there she was, in fact, legs dangling on the counter and sitting on a stool right in front of her, Mel’s brother, Roger, the reason for the girl’s presence.

She was all giggly and flirty, while not so subtly caressing Roger’s arm and thanking him for the previous night and for the impromptu breakfast he had so kindly made for her. Meanwhile, Roger was literally on another planet: he was nodding along with what the girl was saying, barely paying attention and writing something on a scrambled piece of paper.

They were too busy to notice that Mel had made her way into the room and was now standing on the other side of the counter, preparing some coffee to go. She gazed at her brother, giving him a look that said I wish I woke up one Saturday not feeling like we live in a bed and breakfast for one-night-stands. He scrolled his shoulders and kept on writing. That was their way of saying ‘Good morning’.

They performed that same routine since Mel had started uni and moved in with him and his roommate. They grew up in a small city in Cornwall and since Roger moved to London to study biology, it seemed a logical decision for Mel to attend university in London as well. She was into Physics so her high school professor encouraged her to submit for a scholarship at the Imperial and that’s exactly where she ended up.

From where she was standing, Mel noticed a mass of wavy brown hair lying on the couch, feet on the coffee table and book on the lap, trying his best to concentrate on his reading. That was Brian, the third roomer of the apartment. He studied Physics as well but was almost four years ahead of her. He was one of Roger’s best friends and co-founder of a band named Smile, which the two of them had formed a few years before: Roger played the drums, while Brian was on the guitar. They had struggled for a while to find a new singer since their former one left, but eventually another friend of Roger’s, Freddie, joined and things started to work out okay again. The only thing missing was a bass player, but they were working on that.

“I think I should go, thanks again for last night Rog” the girl smirked at Roger “Give me a call sometime”

He smirked back at her as she went toward the door, but Mel knew he would not have called her. That’s just how Roger was like different girl every weekend, sometimes two, one incredible night of passion and then they would never hear from him again. Mel could not understand how those girls put up with him being such a jerk. Although she might have understood why they fell for him at first: he was actually handsome and he was in a band, so that did half of the work.

“Just when I think you could have changed and actually cared about that girl enough to make her breakfast, you ruthlessly shrug her off like that” she teased him.

Roger ruffled her hair passing behind her “There’s no hope for me, little sister” he said jokingly “and also, Brian made breakfast. Thanks mate, by the way”

Brian flipped him off without even lifting his eyes from the book, then added “What time do you get off work tonight Mel?”

“I have a shift from 9 am to 1 pm and then from 2 pm to 7 pm. As usual. Why you ask?” she said, already picturing the answer.

“Do you have any plans after that?” Brian said casually.

“Why. Do. You. Ask?” she repeated more forcefully.

“Well,” he said cautiously “we’re playing at the Riz tonight and you know it’s always kinda… well, it’s not popular, we were wondering if you wanted to come see us. You know, so that we have at least one person in the audience”

Mel snorted “No Bri, you know I hate that place: there are only middle-aged men that make unflattering comments to every young girl who enters the bar”

She didn’t have to look at him, she knew he was making puppy eyes at her, so she sighed “Fine! If – and I say if – my afternoon shift doesn’t kill me, I’ll try to stop by…”

Brian joyfully thanked her, and she excused herself to go get ready for her job.

She worked on Fridays, Saturdays and basically anytime she could at a local shop called Biba: they stored famous and expensive clothing, which she could only admire the beauty of, not being an expert on the subject. It was just a small job to make some extra money and help out Roger with the rent.

As she walked through the doors she was welcomed by her co-workers Mary and Chelsea: all three of them were hired on the same day and had been working there since summer. They often chitchatted during breaks but weren’t properly friends, well Mary and Chelsea were, but Mel never hung out with them outside of work, which was why she was surprised when Mary asked her

“What are you doing tonight?”

“I kinda promised a friend I would quickly stop by the bar where they’re playing, before heading home. But I have all the intention to blow them off in favor of sitting in front of the telly, watching Coronation Street” she answered, already picturing the warmth of the blanket and cup of tea in her hands. “You doing anything special?”

The two girls exchanged a look and Chelsea said:

“Well… a friend of ours is throwing a party near Ealing’s main building and he asked everyone to spread the buzz. Apparently, someone challenged him to gather the biggest number of people he could. There will be music and, hopefully, a lot of alcohol. You interested?”

She almost denied the offer, but she had to admit she was actually pretty tempted and then realized she hadn’t been to a party in a bit.

“I’m in” she finally said with a smile.

The three of them worked peacefully till closing hour and then headed to the party together. She had to admit they were quite good company and they seemed to get along pretty well.

The party was held in the exhibitions area in the Design department of Ealing College, which was unused at that time; Mary and Chelsea knew their way around since they both studied design there. The place was not that crowded but there must have been at least three hundred people, mostly students and half of them was already tipsy due to the pints of beer that were being distributed at the entrance. The girls grabbed one each and dove into the crowd, making their way towards the dance platform.

They chatted for a bit, laughing and starting to feel the alcohol inebriating their mind as they begin to feel the rhythm of the music. While they were dancing Mel felt someone passing behind her to reach Chelsea, grabbing her by the waist and almost making her spill her drink.

“Oh my God Tom I almost spilled all of this on the girls” Chelsea screamed.

He apologized quickly, gave her a kiss and offered to get rid of their empty glasses.

“Are you okay?” Mel asked, seeing the annoyed look on her face.

“No… Yeah… I’m sorry about Tom, he’s – well he’s my boyfriend but we’ve been through a rough time and I didn’t expect him to be here.” she said and thought I hoped he wouldn’t be here.

Chelsea didn’t exactly know how or when it had started but for the last couple of weeks, things between her and Tom had been… different. They had been together for almost three years and known each other since grade school, but all of a sudden, they were unable to communicate with each other without fighting. That’s why she had hoped to have fun that night, trying not to think about the fact that she was considering the idea of breaking up.

“Don’t worry doll, we’re gonna make sure you have fun tonight.” Mary said “C’mon, let’s dance” and she dragged both of them on the dancing floor.

They danced a couple of songs, then the band announced the end of their set, so the girls decided to go for another drink.

“Go find a place we can sit, I’ll go get the drinks” Mel offered, and she made her way to the counter and ordered three more pints. She thanked the bartender and fumbled to keep all of them in her hands when suddenly someone bumped into her back and she lost grip of one of the glasses, pouring the drink on the floor and on the shirt of a guy next to her at the counter.

“Hey would you mind looking where you’re going?” she furiously said. But the person who hit her was already mixed with the crowd.

“What a jackass”

Mel turned around to meet the eyes of the person who just spoke and realized that was the guy she had spilled the beer on.

Her eyes widened as she said “I am so sorry for your shirt”

She grabbed some towels from the counter and added “Here let me help you”

“Don’t worry I was headed home anyway. My band just finished the set so that’s a wrap for tonight” he said jokingly

She grinned “Wait you were playing just now? You guys were good! What do you play?”

“I’m the bassist” he said smiling “It’s very kind of you, but I know we’re not that good” he chuckled.

“Well my brother’s in a band and they replace the bassist almost every two months because they’re all shitty and I was there every time… So trust me when I say that you are actually pretty good”

He flushed and quickly answered “Well in this case, thank you”

They were standing really close, while she was dabbing the towel on his shirt and when she looked up he was looking at her.

He smiled at her and she could feel her cheeks flush bright red, as she smiled back, thinking he had the most handsome smile she had ever seen.

She was brought back to reality by the new band coming up on stage and making the crowd cheer.

“I should go find my friends” she said picking up the pints

His smile vanished and he tried to hide the disappointment “Sure, I think I’ll head home anyway”

She saw him smiling slightly before she turned on her heels and headed towards the tables. She was still smiling when she sat beside Mary.

“How come you only have two?” she asked.

“Oh, well I didn’t feel like drinking another one all by myself” she shrugged her shoulders, restraining a smile.

“What are you all smiley about?” Chelsea asked smirking.

Mel couldn’t help but picture his smile again and chuckled “It’s nothing, I think a drank too much of that stuff, I feel all tipsy” before realizing she hadn’t even asked him what his name was.

Chelsea was not at all convinced, but she decided not to investigate.

She was startled by hand over her shoulder and when she looked up she saw Tom, who said: “We need to talk”

She got up, already knowing how this would have ended up, but decided to confront him once and for all.

“I’m all ears” she said when they distanced themselves enough from the crowd

“What’s going on Chel? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks”

“I’m not avoiding you… I just – I just need a bit of time”

“What for? Don’t you trust me enough to tell me what’s bothering you?”

It was always like that with Tom. Everything was about him. She was so sick of that.

“No, Tom, it’s not you” she snorted “I just think I need a bit of time to sort things out”

“What does that even mean? Are you telling me you want to break up?”

“NO! I didn’t say that! Christ Tom, you are always pushing my buttons!” she yelled, scoffing and rubbing her forehead. She continued calmer “Look, I love you, but you can’t deny we’ve been fighting a lot recently and seem to have lost the ability to communicate properly.”

He looked her dead serious in the eyes and she cautiously carried on “Don’t you think we need a break? I don’t mean breaking up.” She quickly added seeing the look on his face “I just think – carrying on with our lives trying to sort things on our own and then maybe-”

“Maybe what Chelsea?” he blurted out “Are you suggesting we see other people? Oh fuck, is there someone else?” he said running his hands in his hair “Please tell me it’s not John” he added pointing an accusatory finger at her.

“What? No Tom no! We are roommates but he’s my best friend and yours too by the way.” She replied, hurt by his insinuation.

“Tom there is no-one okay? I just want to be by myself for a while, God why can’t you understand that!”

“Well maybe you should stay on your own forever” he spat out “I’m done with this shit. Call me when you’re back being yourself Chel”

He said that with a poisonous tone however she couldn’t help but think he was right. He left, and she felt tears stinging her eyes. She had to get out of there: she bolted through the crowd excused herself with the girls and rushed out in the hallway before they could catch her.

All she wanted to do was scream from the top of her lungs she had had enough. As she walked rapidly towards the apartment where she hoped to find John’s comforting arms, tears started to stream down her face.

Chapters: | next ⤑

[itsgonnabe-brian-may]

mirror, mirror p2/6?

// I’m sooo sorry this took so long!! I finally figured out what I want to do with this fic and I really like the way it's going. anyways here's part 2! Tell me how you feel & if you want to be added to the taglist. I’m going to post once a week for now on! 

wc: 1.6k

pairing: eventual Brian May x reader

tag list: @whott @geek-and-proud @obsessedwithrogertaylor @killer-queen-xo

Part 1

//

“I met her,” Brian said smugly and turned to the audience looking for you, he began plucking the first chords as your eyes locked across the room.  

The rest of the bad faltered. Sure they hoped they would meet you. But today? No, they definitely were not expecting that. And the calm manner in that Brian started playing further confused them. So much so that they all missed their entrances into the song. Thankfully Roger snapped out of the daze joining in. The crash of the symbols startled the rest of them into playing. Soon enough they were performing, instead of just playing. However, they all tried to figure out who the mystery messenger was.

Before it hadn’t been obvious if it was a man or woman. Lipstick is a great writing utensil! It’s hard to clean off a surface, meaning it’s certainly perfect for a statement. It’s easy to come by. It’s concealable. Plus it’s the era of Rock and Roll. If men can wear platform boots, which are just extreme high heels. Then men can wear lipstick too. Plus it was often a peachier shade, which was neutral and could blend in. The inclusion your gender narrowed down the list a little. With a higher chance of getting it right, the boys spent the show scanning the audience for a similar lip shade. Each coming up with a few potential messengers, distracting them further from their performance.

Unfortunately for the curious boys, you were dancing in the back corner, with poor visibility. Partially in your own world, except for the casual and consistent glances in Brian’s direction. You always had a good time when they performed. They were amazing musicians. Even when distracted. It normally went by fast, especially when you got lost in the music. Today’s set, however, went by really fast. You swore the songs seemed rushed. And Freddie’s regular rambling 10 minute thank you speech was cut short too,

“Thank you Darlings, have a good night!”

Joe, Fred, and Roger practically ran off stage. Not even 4 seconds had passed before Brian was bombarded with questions.

“How did you meet her?”

“When!?”

“Is that why you were late?”

“What’s her name?”

“What does she look like?”

“More importantly is she hot?”

“Do you think she means what she writes?”

“How does she know when we play here?”

“Is she a blonde? Wait no, brunette?”

“How do you know it’s actually her?”

“Is she a groupie? Please don’t be a groupie”

“What’s wrong with groupies John?”

“Is she nice?”

“How does she get backstage?”

“What was she wearing?”

“Does she work here?”

“Or does she break in?”

"How many shades of lipstick does she have?"

"Who is her favorite band member?"

The questions flew out of their mouths faster than answers could be formulated.

“Woah, Woah, it’s been like 2 seconds, calm down,” Brian said putting his hands up as if trying to signal them to stop the questions.

“Wait, but seriously how did you guys meet?” John asked, clearly just as fed up with the stupid questions.

“Yeah!” Fred and Roger added in unison.

“Well, I kind of walked in on her... I forgot my pick in the dressing room and ran to go get it. There she was, writing a message, we talked briefly but Fred kept calling my name so I had to go,” Brian explained.

“Are you daft? You didn’t get her name?” Roger asked groaning, bringing up a hand to pinch his brow in frustration.

“I’m not an idiot, it’s-“

“Y/N,” you and Brian said in unison. Your voice ending slightly after his. The 4 unsuspected boys whipped around to look at you. You were standing off to the side of the stage by the black velvet curtains.

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you all in person, ” You said sheepishly your cheeks turning a light shade of pink. The boys didn't really know how to react or what to say. Until John took a step and extended his hand to you,

"Hi, I'm John, this is Fred, Rog and well you already met Brian," he smiled kindly.

"It is very nice to meet you, darling, I'm glad your such a big fan," Freddie exclaimed, forgoing the handshake and pulling you into a hug. Your shocked expression caused a lighthearted laugh from the other 3 who knew Fred's antics and lack of personal space.

"Well, let me buy you a post-performance beer?" You asked tucking a hair behind your ear. "It's the least I can do," you smiled.

"Dear, it should be the other way around, we owe you a thank you," Brian spoke up, "You were one of the first to believe in Queen," he added smiling at you.

"Lets compromise, I'll buy the first round and you can buy the second," you suggested

"Sounds like a wonderful plan Y/N," Roger said in a flirtatious tone. He wasn't one to deny that you were gorgeous. You, however, knew his ways and rolled your eyes,

"Come on, this offer is going to expire in 10...9...8...7...-"

"You heard the girl, let's get a drink!" Fred said grabbing your hand and pulled you out into the pub. The rest of the boys following. They found a table in the corner whilst you ordered 5 beers, you chose your favorite house special as you had no idea what they preferred. Luckily they weren't awfully picky.

The night evolved into a surprisingly calm night. You had 4 or 5 beers, but you weren't feeling drunk. Slightly tipsy maybe, but the flow of conversation stopped you from thinking about it. You had started the night talking to all of them, telling them some things about yourself, like your job, what you were studying in school, where you grew up and how you got to writing the messages. Your background and why you were so invested in music, and then specifically their music. Roger, who had a few more drinks than you, thought you had liked the music because they were all "hotties" but you reminded him that the radio doesn't do them justice or even mention what they look like. Which lead to Roger's reaction that everyone thought was funny. Then the conversation evolved to one on one with each of the boys. You and John started talking Bass riffs and ended up talking about tea for a solid 20 minutes. Fred shared his opinions on your outfit, all positive and flattering. When you mentioned you bought your pants at Biba, he practically squealed in excitement. That led you down a 45-minute rabbit hole of talking about fashion. Roger ended up joining in on the conversation with his own opinions and ideas for new looks that he was going to try on stage. You convinced him to try wearing just a suit coat, which he thought was a fantastic idea. Throughout the night your gaze subconsciously shifted towards Brian. Brian had also been watching you, in a non-creepy way, of course, it was more out of curiosity. So when you eventually sat down next to him with two glasses of water and the intention of getting to know him better, he was ecstatic.

"So why play with a six-pence coin when there are perfectly good guitar picks out there?" You had asked to start the conversation. He had replied in a thoughtful and calculated manner. Which lead to talking about his guitar and then your jewelry as you and your mother had hand made one of the necklaces out of a coin. You and Brian hit it off almost immediately. You told him things you hadn't told anyone and he did the same. You two were totally in your own world, so you were shocked when you looked down at your watch and it was 1:32 am.

"Shit, I have to get going, I have class at 9," you said suddenly standing up. "It was very lovely meeting you all! I hope to see you guys around soon?" You said offering a loving grin. You all hugged goodbye and made promises to keep up with the band.

"Oh, Brian, don't forget your coat in the dressing room," you whispered in Brian's ear before walking away.

"Bye, Y/N," they all called before returning to their previous conversations.

Instead of going straight to your apartment, you stopped by the dressing room one final time that night. You changed the words from earlier to digits, along with adding your initial and a lip print. 

On your way out, you ran into Miami or properly know as Jim Beach. He was on his way to collect the boys and make sure that they got some sleep before going to the next gig. You two had a short conversation that ended up with you pocketing a business card and an even bigger grin on your face.

"Come on boys, it's late and we have a gig tomorrow," Miami called out stepping into the pub. The Queen members weren't the only ones there, but they all seemed to get the message and slowly got up and got their stuff together.

"Hold on, let me grab my coat from the dressing room," Brian said breaking away from the group.

As he walked to the dressing room, he noticed that it was the only room with a light on. He swore he turned it off before leaving. It happened to be the light by the mirror. He picked up his coat from the chair right by the door and sighed. The events from the night finally hitting him, hard. He was tired. Yet, all of the tiredness seemed to escape him when he saw the phone number written delicately on the mirror. Brain left the bar with the same wide grin you had left with 10 minutes ago.