#ftlchallenge

[another-blog-bites-the-dust]

My baby does me.

Summary: Everyone assumes you're the sweet, innocent one- but only Brian knows what you're really like.

Warnings: This is a fucking kink fest. Like the kinkiest shit I've ever written. Lotsa smut. Brian has a degradation kink and a praise kink. Dom!Reader and Sub!Brian. Little bit of BDSM. Swearing. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Unprotected sex is not cool- you know what is cool? Condoms. That's why both cool and condoms begin with a 'C'. Please use one. Also please don't read if your under 18.

A/N: This is my second fic for @fredthelegend's writing challenge and all I have to say is- Good lord. This is just a fuck fest idk what to tell you but I'm going to soak in a bath of holy water for the rest of my life. Enjoy! 💖 Lyrics are bold italics!

My baby

Baby does

My baby does, me good

Brian was glaring at you from across the dinner table. He always could see passed those innocently batting eyelashes and the 'butter wouldn't melt' smile. You knew exactly what you were doing and you were doing in front of all of your friends.

It was John's idea to get away for the week. He had a friend who owned a holiday cottage that had barns converted into rooms, in the cottage itself there was already three. So that's how you and Brian ended up going along with John, Veronica, Freddie, Jim, Roger, Dominique, Mary and David.

Brian bit down on his lip and shifted in his seat ever so slightly feeling you rub your heel clad foot against his leg. "Oh! Brian and I were walking home the other night and he told me dozens of facts about stars and space that I didn't know!" You smiled while taking with Veronica and Roger. You turned your head to look at him. "Didn't you, Bri?" You asked with a sweet smile. Brian hummed, your foot was going higher up his leg and he tried to push it away but he wasn't strong enough to resist you. You kept your relaxed and innocent demeanour while the part of your body that was under the table was about to do the imaginable in front of all your friends. You harshly pressed your high heel against his- already hard- length. "Didn't you, love?"

My baby

Baby does

My baby does, me good

He shut his eyes and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. "Y-yeah!" He managed to spit out and you pulled back.

"Is everyone finished?" Mary asked "Y/N and I will grab dessert!" You followed her to the kitchen, shooting Brian a small grin as you stood up. He kept his eyes on you the entire time. Mary had her back to you and you were putting out the ice cream, you glanced up and noticed Brian staring at you. The corner of your mouth twitched upwards and you mischievously scooped up a bit of ice cream from your bowl with your middle finger and sucked it off your finger while keeping your eyes firmly locked with Brian's. He swallowed hard and his grip on his napkin tightened- especially when he saw some ice cream drip down and you licked the entire length of your finger with the tip of your tongue. It was resembling something else entirely at the moment. Brian's cock was twitching at the thought of you doing that to him.

You sent him a wink and he grabbed his drink- downing the entire thing.

Your sultry persona disappeared when Mary turned around and you chatted away- acting as if nothing had happened. That's what got to Brian the most- that's why he happily and easily submitted himself to you. How innocent and pure you could be when really you were the biggest minx on the planet.

The only one that could bring him to his knees.

My lady

Understands

Understands me right

She understands me

You walked through with Mary and placed the bowls down in front of everyone, letting out a faint snort of laughter when you glanced down at Brian's trousers. You moved around the table back to your seat, shaking your hips a little just to keep Brian's eyes on you a little more- as if you needed to, he had barely blinked he was looking at you so much. He had been desperate for you all day- all week. He was being slowly tortured as a form of punishment.

After dessert and a few drinks you headed upstairs first to get ready for bed, eventually Brian joined you and softly shut the bedroom door behind him. You were wearing a satin nightdress with one of his dressing gowns.

Brian had to bite down on his fingers to stop himself from reaching out and touching you- he knew what would be underneath just waiting for him. Nothing. "Y-you really had to bring that one and wear my dressing gown with it?" You knew just what he liked and you loved making him suffer.

She understands me

Understands me right

Mmmmmmm

My baby cares

She really cares

You turned with a smirk on your face "Of course I did. It's all part of your punishment, love." You sauntered up to him "You know you can look," you pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, purposely missing his lips. "But you can't touch." Your warning tone made Brian whine. "Especially not with two other couples in the cottage- you're so loud you'd wake them up." You teased with wink and traced your fingers over his jaw and then his lips. Brian parted his lips slightly and you slipped two fingers in, he was happy to have any sort of contact from you and he softly bit down on them. "Tell me how much you want me," you asked, looking at him through your lashes.

You pulled out your fingers that were slightly coated in Brian's saliva. "I want you so bad. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you the other day- I was just so desperate for you!" He remembered that night and it sent a chill down his spine how much he had disobeyed you. You had been working late and explicitly told him not to get started without you but when you got home, you found him on the bed with the back of his head buried into the mattress and his hand on his cock.

You had denied him any sort of contact with your body and it was driving him mad.

Back in the bedroom you were sharing in the cottage, you stepped back a little and Brian watched as you slipped the fingers that had just been in his mouth under the hem of your nightdress. You let out a small delighted gasp- emphasising a little just to torture Brian even more- when you slipped the two fingers inside you and pulled them back out again. "And I'm soaking- such a shame," you devilishly grinned and gazed and Brian as you licked your fingers. "Oh well...goodnight Bri, I love you dearly." You pecked his lips, he could faintly taste you on your lips. You got into bed, Brian stood in the spot for a moment, trying to compose himself before eventually joining you.

"I love you too," he murmured and kissed your temple before shutting his eyes.

She knows what's really right for me

Does me good then she hurts me so

She winds me up then lets me go

Turns me on and then tells me no

Brian was tossing and turning all night. He was unbelievably turned on and frustrated. He got up and headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water- it was half two in the morning and the cottage was silent. You could hear a pin drop. Brian took a mouthful and then sighed into the glass. "I was sad when I didn't see you beside me." Brian almost dropped the bloody thing hearing you.

"I just needed to grab some water," he explained and turned around noticing you hugging his dressing gown around you. "You okay? Want a glass?" He asked. You smiled and shook your head in refusal, wandering up to the dining table you were all sitting at earlier.

"This is such a nice dining table don't you think?" You asked, brushing your fingers over the top of it.

Brian shrugged a shoulder "Yeah, I guess." He wasn't a table expert. He raised a brow then you sat up on it, your legs dangling slightly.

"Everyone knows what you do at the dining table..." you trailed off with your eyes boring into Brian's as you slipped off the dressing gown. Your satin nightdress was gone and just as Brian had predicted- nothing was there. "You eat." You darkly spoke and spread your legs.

Brian gulped "H-here?" He whispered "Now?!" He found himself walking forward and staring at you in all your glory. "We can't!"

You hooked your feet around the back of Brian's things when he was close enough and pulled him towards you with the strength in your legs. "We can and you will." You gripped his jaw and looked up to him with a sultry gaze. "Here's what's going to happen...you're going to get on your knees like a good boy and fuck me with your tongue before you fuck me with your cock." Brian whimpered. You talking dirty just made him agree to anything you wanted more. "Yes?"

"Y-yes," Brian shakily whispered out with shut eyes. You sunk your fingers into his jaw a little harder "Yes ma'am!" You released your grip on him and watched as he fell to his knees in front of you before leaning forward and gently running his tongue up the length of your slit. You hummed contently and stroked Brian's hair before gripping onto it tightly and pushing him towards your heat. He let out a small grunt but quickly got to work, licking your clit and then sloppily kissing your soaking folds. He was thrilled to have you again after so long.

"You've missed this haven't you?" You breathed out and let your head fall back a little. You let out a faint moan, being cautious not to wake anyone as you pushed Brian's face further into your pussy. "More." You demanded "I want more." Brian didn't even care about breathing at this point- he only cared about making you happy. Before you felt yourself getting a little too close to your peak, you pulled him back by the hair and he desperately gasped for air. He stood up and steadied himself slightly on the dining table while you kept your eyes fixated on him. "Tell me what you want."

Brian felt a chill go through his whole body at the tone you used. It was almost enough to make him orgasm right there and then. "I want to cum inside you, please. God, I want it so bad!" He pursed his lips and cried out his plea with irresistible puppy dog eyes.

"You have such a filthy mouth, baby..." you peppered the most faintest, delicate kisses on the skin around his mouth, tasting yourself as you did. "Fuck me."

She's just a pussy cat

My baby loves me

My baby loves me ooh

Brian didn't have to be told twice and pulled down his pyjama trousers and boxers just enough to get out his cock and then effortlessly slid inside your tight heat. He let out a loud groan into your shoulder as he began gently thrusting his hips- trying to savour the moment. Small whines and yelps fell from his lips and his hold around your waist became tighter.

You softly cupped his cheek and made him look at you "You've been so desperate for me, haven't you?" He nodded with his lips trembling. You smirked and playfully dragged your tongue over his mouth, he opened it and desperately collided his with yours. "Oh you're barely going to last, aren't you my baby boy?" Brian moaned and squeezed his eyes shut- he couldn't speak at the moment- all that left his mouth were moans. He gripped on to the table as his thrusting became harder and rougher, his nails and yours scraped away the wood and varnish. Your back arched slightly giving Brian perfect access to your breaths, he ran his tounge over your nipple and softly sunk his teeth into it, making you moan with a smirk. You sat back up a little and pressed your lips to his "That's alright because you're going to be cumming all night until you're on the verge of passing out." You sweetly and innocently spoke which sent Brian into overdrive, his hips thrusting faster than they had ever done. "Are you enjoying this?" You grinned and grazed your teeth over his neck, biting down on certain spots like he was your own personal chew toy.

"Yes! God yes!" Brian moaned and kissed you. "Am I being a good boy? He asked, almost pathetically as he was so ruined.

"Such a good boy for me!" You purred and delicately brushed the hair out of his eyes. It was sticking to his forehead with sweat. "God! My pussy fucking loves you inside it. Almost swallows your cock whole." Brian loudly moaned at your words and you tightly clamped your hand around his mouth. "Fucking shut up."

"Hello?" It was John.

Brian went to pull out but you gripped his hips even tighter and moved your hands rhythmically so he kept fucking you. Your eyes bore into his as your nails sunk deeper into his flesh- he was a mess already and you had barely even started with him. "Keep yourself quiet!" You hissed in a whisper and Brian placed both hands on his mouth to shut himself up. The glare you were sending him was deadly- a mix of thrill from the danger of getting caught, lust and power. You could hear John leaving the kitchen. "Fuck!" You quietly groaned and came on his cock with a silent scream, your face perfectly contorting with pleasure.

Brian lasted about five seconds after that and came with a shuddering cry, his thrusts becoming sloppy before he eventually pulled out. "Jesus fucking hell," he deeply panted and wiped away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand before pulling up his boxers and trousers.

You got off the table and wrapped the dressing gown around you again. You could feel the remains of Brian dripping down the inside of your thighs. You tutted and pointed at the table. "Look at the mess you've made, baby." Brian glanced at the patch of your juices mixed with his cum. He went to the kitchen and found some wipes. "Oh no!" You devilishly grinned "You'll need to clean up the cum on this table...with your tongue first." Brian let out a shaky breath. "When you're finished, you can follow me upstairs on your hands and knees like the good boy you are." You gripped onto his jaw. "Get to work."

Brian swiped his tongue over the sticky substance on the table and you watched him desperately clean up every last drop before wiping it with some wipes. When he swiftly tidied up, he slowly got onto all fours in front of you. You narrowed your eyes slightly and cocked your head to the side. "What?" Brian asked. "What's the matter?"

"You're missing something..." you murmured before a lightbulb went off in your head and you pulled off the tie that was around the dressing gown and placed it around Brian's neck.

"W-why?" Brian asked as you tied the piece of thin fabric around his neck.

"Because last week you acted like a little brat and couldn't fucking go a few hours without waiting for me." You bent down slightly so your face was level with his. "Because you're a bitch. That's why." You gritted out and little dots of spit hit his face. "So you're going to be treated like one." You twisted the tie between your fingers and tugged him along- he crawled on his hands and knees behind you and all the way up the stairs. As much as it was torturing Brian- he was loving every single second. When you reached your bedroom you untied him and motioned him to get onto the bed. "I only brought one of my toys with me," you pouted and headed to your bag, pulling out the shiny handcuffs and letting them dangle off your middle finger. You looked at them before dramatically sighing. "I don't have our favourite..." you looked at him through your lashes with a toothy grin. Brian almost growled. Our favourite. He had a very strong love hate relationship with the thing you were talking about. Your whip. "I'll have to use the next best thing." You pulled off the belt that was still around his jeans that he had left on the chair in the room. Brian went wide eyed. You smirked and crawled over the top of him- his belt was between your teeth. You straddled him and placed his wrists in the cuffs and secured him to the bed, pulling off every piece of clothing he was wearing.

My baby cuffs me ooh

One day she'll tells me that she cares

Another day she tells me she don't love me

She really really does me

"Keep as quiet as you can now, my baby boy," you purred and turned him slightly before whacking his bum with the leather belt. Brian groaned and shifted in the bed slightly. "Now you're going to count to ten and I'm going to spank you- if you lose count you'll have to start all over again." You grinned, almost patronisingly. Brian tentatively nodded and braced himself.

"One..." he whispered and gasped feeling the cool leather hit his skin, leaving a searing, hot, red mark behind. "T-two," another hit and he moaned. "Three," he gritted out and bit down on his lip, almost drawing blood. "Four- fuck!" He yelped. He managed to make it to eight before repeating himself.

You tutted with the biggest smirk on your face. "You know what..." you put down the belt and turned him onto his back before straddling his thighs and gently caressing his sides. "You've been such a good boy that I'll let that slide. But just this once!" You warned and got up to grab the keys to the handcuffs, leaning over Brian and slowly unlocking them. He seized the opportunity of having your breasts near his face again and leaned up slightly, brushing his tongue over your nipple and gently sucking on it. You gasped at the unexpected contact. "Oh god..." you groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "That's good, Bri, baby." He kept doing it, softly moaning and mewing against the sensitive skin around your nipple causing you to moan out his name. "Brian...oh that's a good boy, Bri." You pulled back and tossed away the handcuffs that you had eventually removed. He sat up eagerly in bed like a puppy about to get a treat. You soothingly rubbed his wrists and looked at him with a sinful gaze "You're going to do as I ask and fuck me into this mattress- understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Brian grinned and pounced on you, attacking you with hot, passionate kisses as he thrusted his cock inside you once more- getting a groan out of both of you.

As his pace began to pick up, so did the volume of his moans. "Shh..." you placed your hand over his mouth. "We don't want everyone to know how much of a needy little slut you are," you smirked and Brian moaned again at your words. You said some of the most poetic things at times, but the things you said behind closed doors were some of the best words Brian had ever heard leave your mouth.

"Again." Brian begged.

You raised a brow "What do you me-oh! Fuck!" You gasped feeling his length being driven even further into you. "What do you mean?"

"Call me a slut again, please! I'm fucking begging you, Y/N- ma'am!" Brian quickly corrected himself- he was in such a state he barely knew what he was saying.

"You're a fucking slut, baby boy." You moaned and writhed under him. "The best slut. Oh shit! Good fucking god!" You moaned into his shoulder as his hips frantically buckled. "Bri, I'm so fucking close." You slapped his ass and he brokenly yelped- it was still red raw and stinging from earlier. "I'm so close!"

"Me too," he grunted "Cam I cum? Please? Please say yes!" He sloppily begged again.

You grinned "Since you asked so nicely," you latched your lips against his before something inside you snapped and you came- your whole busy shuddering under Brian's. You were both still being cautious of the others that were sleeping. "Cum for me, baby." Brian moaned into your mouth as he came undone inside you once again. "Mhmm good boy. Such a good boy." You praised and Brian grinned, slowly getting off of you. You showered him with gentle kisses and let him curl into you as your dominating side became dormant once more. "Are you sore? Was I too rough? I brought your favourite- chocolate buttons!" You smiled and gently pecked him on the nose "Do you want anything at all?"

"No," Brian contently hummed with a tired smile on his face. "Not right now. I just want you to hold me." He looked up to you and you both shared a short, sweet kiss. "God you were amazing- as per usual...ma'am" he flirtatiously purred and bit on his bottom lip.

"Oh Brian you're playing with fire now," you shifted yourself down the bed a little, still holding Brian in your arms. "Trying to get me all riled up again?" You kissed his temple and he yawned, making you smile. "Seriously, love, get some sleep. You did good tonight. I love you. I love you so much." You whispered and stroked his hairline as he drifted off to sleep.

"I love you too." He sounded exhausted. You had well and truly worn him out between the thrill of getting caught and mind-blowing sex. He knew when he woke up you'd be completely innocent in the eyes of everyone again, and yet, be a dominating minx when you had the chance. Just the way Brian liked it. If he told anyone what you were really like- they'd never believe him.

Ooh, people do you believe this? Do you?

Oo ooh, ah

Ooh ooh ooh

"Morning all!" Freddie greeted "Sleep well?"

"Oh yes!" Mary grinned "It's so peaceful here and all the fresh air had me out like a light!" She giggled and sat down at the table with everyone else. Veronica and John were the first two to get up so made a start on breakfast for everyone. Brian was sitting next to you with his hand on your knee, every so often you'd send each other a loving glance.

Roger narrowed his eyes at the patch of damaged wood next to his plate and rubbed at it.

"How did these scratches get on the table?"

Ooh she really really really really really really aah, does me, hey

———————–————

Tags- (Tag list is open! Just let me know if you want to be tagged or not or if I've forgotten to tag you!)

@rrrogah-tayluhh @rogerofmylife @phantom-fangirl-stuff @pyrotechnic789 @deacytits @mercurys-bike @happy-at-home @mhftrs @dannydelay @queenismylifenow @whitequeen-blackqueen @stateofloveandvedder @blondyfel @mespetitestortues @trickster-may @xtrashmammalstefx @the-garnet-rain @makapaka11 @killerqueenbucky @hodgepodge-of-rog @fredthelegend @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @bowiequeen @princessleiaqueen @asgardpapi

[hearts-hunger]

When I’m Not With You || Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: At a party with emotions running high and Roger’s next tour dates closer than either of you would like, you learn the hard way that it doesn’t take much for little misunderstandings to turn into something worse.

Pairings: Roger Taylor x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: accusations of cheating, smoking, language

A/N: This fic is for @fredthelegend‘s writing challenge! Did I wait until the very last possible day to write it and get it posted? You bet! It’s who I am as a person, what can I say? As per the rules of the writing challenge, I drew inspiration for this fic from “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy”. It’s plenty angsty but it ends up fluffy, so it’s not all misunderstandings and screaming matches. Let me know what you think, and I hope you like it! ♡

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You looked over at Roger as he put his hand on the small of your back, the combination of his voice and his touch something you’d come to associate with comfort. He always made sure to do both when you were in big social situations like this, making sure he didn’t scare you and taking the time to ground you and let you know it was him. The ease and gentleness with which he’d handled your anxiety from the very beginning of your relationship never failed to endear him to you; as always, you found yourself incredibly thankful for a boyfriend that loved you as well as he did.

You smiled as you met his lovely blue eyes. “Hey yourself, cutie.” You knew he loved it when you called him that; he always said it was very American of you.

“Just checking in,” he said with a smile. “You alright?”

You nodded, gesturing with the drink in your hand. “One more margarita and I might drag you onto the dance floor,” you teased, “but yeah, I’m great.”

He grinned. “I might take you up on that.”

“You’ve got Freddie set up already?” you asked. Freddie had been flirting with - or, rather, casting longing glances towards - a burly brunette all night, and Roger had taken pity on him eventually and offered his services as Freddie’s wingman.

“You doubt my ability to him the date of his dreams?” Roger teased. “I’m the expert on flirting, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, you don’t have to remind me,” you said, giving him a quick kiss. “I know better than anybody that Roger Meddows Taylor is the world’s biggest flirt, don’t I?”

He grinned. “Only with you, love. Only with you.”

You shook your head, affectionately exasperated. “You’re a mess.”

“Yeah, but I’m your mess,” he said, cheeky. “Lucky girl that you are. I’m going to have quick smoke, but when I get back, you and I have a date with the dance floor.”

You laughed. “Okay. Do you want another drink?”

“Sure,” he said. He gestured with his wine glass. “Just another Chardonnay, if you don’t mind.”

“You got it,” you said. “Don’t be too long.”

He laughed and gave you a kiss as he turned to go. “No, wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled to yourself as you watched him weave through the crowd of people towards the back door, stopping briefly to greet friends who congratulated him on Queen’s latest success. The party had been thrown by EMI Records to celebrate A Day at the Races hitting number one in England and Japan. The boys were just back from the American leg of the tour, and you and Roger had been practically inseparable from the moment you’d thrown yourself in his arms at the airport.

Even though he’d only gone for a smoke and he’d be back in no time, the months of being apart made every little moment of absence that much keener to you now, especially considering the precious little time you had before he left again. They had a few weeks before they had to head off for the last leg of the tour across Europe, which was slated to last at least a month. You didn’t want to waste a second of the time you had before Roger left again. So far you hadn’t - god, the two of you hadn’t gone so many rounds in one night since you’d first started dating - and you weren’t of a mind to start now. You headed to the bar to get Roger’s Chardonnay, deciding you’d take it outside and keep your boyfriend company while he smoked.

Finally making it through the sea of people carousing on EMI’s dime, most of whom he didn’t even know even though they probably had some connection to the tour or the album, Roger pushed through the back door and took a breath of the cool night air. The sound of Freddie’s crooning on “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” dulled as the door closed behind him and he found himself mildly relieved; though he was proud of the album and its songs, he couldn’t deny he was a bit tired of them after playing them nearly every night for the past three months. But it was a party to celebrate the album, after all - he supposed the DJ could be forgiven for playing it on loop all night. He’d ask them to play something else when he took you out on the dance floor, though, maybe one of the Beatles songs you’d listened to all the time when you first started dating.

He fished a slightly crumpled pack of Marlboro Reds out of the inside pocket of his blazer and took a swig of his wine before pulling out a cigarette, drawing a long inhale when it was lit. He quietly sang along with the bridge almost out of habit. “When I’m not with you, I think of you always.” He kicked at the gravel under his shoes as he blew out a stream of smoke, thinking he probably wouldn’t finish the whole cigarette before he headed back in to be with you.

“Bloody hell, sweetheart.”

Roger snapped his head up at the sound of Brian’s voice, fairly sure the guttural outburst hadn’t been directed at him but confused nonetheless. He hadn’t realized Brian was out here; looking into the darkness where his voice had come from, Roger tried to make out the guitarist’s form.

“Bri?” he called.

He heard a few harshly whispered curses from the shadows in response and couldn’t help but smirk, knowing exactly what was going on past the glow cast by the light above the door. A few seconds later Brian stepped out from the shadows, obviously disheveled; a girl with a rumpled dress and smudged lipstick followed right behind him.

“Interrupting something, am I?” Roger teased.

“No,” Brian said quickly, flustered at being caught red-handed. “No, we were just going back inside.”

The girl came up to Roger, eyeing him with interest. She smelled of lavender and vodka. “You’re the drummer, aren’t you? Robert?”

“Close,” Roger told her. “And you are?”

She gave him a smile. “Alice,” she slurred. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

She bit her lip as she looked Roger over. “You want some company, Robert?”

“Oh, ah, I’m good,” Roger said, struggling to keep from laughing as Brian rolled his eyes. “I’ve already got some company I wouldn’t trade for the world. Thanks for the offer, though. I’m sure you’re, um, really something.”

Alice smirked. “Your friend certainly thought so.” She looked up at Brian. “Isn’t that right?”

Brian looked absolutely mortified. “Yeah, well, we should go in before we’re missed,” he said. He gave Roger a withering look. “See you inside, Robert?”

Roger grinned. “Yeah, I’m just finishing up my cigarette.”

“Come on,” Brian said to Alice, though he didn’t wait for her as he went back inside. She made to follow him, but between the gravel and her high heels and the copious amount of alcohol she’d obviously had, she lost her balance and crashed right into Roger. Staggering back a step, he awkwardly caught her against him, wine sloshing over the rim of his glass and onto the sleeve of his blazer and the back of her dress.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Uh, sorry,” she said, seemingly unsurprised at her own lack of coordination. He released her as she got her balance; she pulled back from him without a shred of embarrassment at having careened into him.

“Sorry about your dress,” he said, holding the now empty glass. “Gonna find Bri ok?”

“Oh, probably not,” she said, unconcerned. “He only wanted a quickie, which is fine by me. Sorry for falling on you.”

He chuckled. “No problem.”

He kept an eye on her as she went back inside, making sure she didn’t trip again. He shook his head, smiling to himself. Brian sure knew how to pick them.

He took a few more drags from his cigarette before letting it drop to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot. Juggling the glass, he pulled off his blazer, thankful he’d decided not to wear his favorite rainbow one tonight now that the sleeve of this one was soaked with wine. He draped his blazer over his arm as he headed inside, already grinning at the thought of taking you dancing.

“Chardonnay, please,” you said to the bartender. “And a margarita with extra lime.”

You absently drummed your fingers on the bar, a habit you’d picked up from Roger, and looked out onto the party as you waited for your drinks. Freddie was talking with the brunette from earlier and from the looks of them, all smiles and “accidental” touches, it seemed Roger had done a good job as Freddie’s wingman. You smiled. Roger would do anything for his friend, and even if he didn’t know the first thing about chatting up guys on other people’s behalf, flirting was more or less a universal language on some level and Roger was certainly an expert on it.

Your gaze traveled to Deaky, who was clearly enjoying himself on the dance floor. You didn’t know what to make of Deaky’s dance moves sometimes, but he was nothing if not enthusiastic. You grinned and watched as he tried to figure out what to do with his hands usually occupied with his bass and settled on a sort of one-handed clapping motion.

“Here you go, love,” the bartender said behind you. You turned and took the drinks he put on the bar for you, smiling your thanks as you carefully made you way towards the back door. You were nearly there when you saw the door open; a girl with smudged makeup and messy hair came in, teetering slightly as she pulled the strap of her dress back over her shoulder. You didn’t think anything of it, really; it was almost a given at any party you’d been to with the boys that disheveled groupies were to be found around every corner, usually with someone in tow behind them. The girl stumbled off and she probably would have never crossed your mind again had it not been for the next person that came through the door.

The first thing you noticed was his grin, that beautiful smile you loved more than anything in the world. He wasn’t looking at you; you were still somewhat hidden by the people between you and Roger. What was he beaming at like that?

The next thing you registered was that he’d taken his blazer off. The champagne-colored jacket with multicolored birds stitched into it was draped over his arm, his empty glass held casually in his hand. Ever keen on fashion, Roger wouldn’t have taken his blazer off without good reason.

Oh, you thought as you saw the collar of his shirt. It surprised you how easily you resigned yourself to it, how quickly you went from confusion to rage to despair to resignation. In the space of a second, you’d seen the streak of red lipstick on the starched collar of his white button-down and felt absolutely nothing.

“Well hello, lovely.”

You startled a little, realized Roger was talking to you. He’d spotted you and come over, the smile on his face showing no hint of shame or remorse. You didn’t know what you’d expected. His expression was eager and affectionate as he looked you over, his baby blue eyes shining as they met yours.

“I was just coming back in to find you,” he said, setting his empty glass on the table nearby. “Thanks for getting my drink.”

He took it from you and took a sip, his head tilted back; you found yourself looking for love marks on his neck despite the numbness that had swept through your whole body.

“I believed you said something about another margarita and a dance, hm?” he said.

The thought of dancing with him, in front of everybody - in front of that girl, whoever she was - made you feel sick.

“No, I - ” You swallowed thickly. Your grip on your glass was so tight your knuckles were white. “I changed my mind.”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “I promise it’ll be fun. We can’t be worse than Deaky, anyway.”

He took your hand and tried to pull you closer to him; you reacted to his touch as if he’d burned you.

“No,” you said, louder this time. You cradled your hand close to your chest. “I don’t want to, Roger.”

His easy smile disappeared at your outburst; he searched your face with a sickening worry in his own.

“Hey, hey,” he said gently. “What’s wrong?”

You felt a hysterical laugh rise in your throat. “Nothing.” As much as you wanted to, you weren’t going to make a scene. Not here, not in front of your friends, not in front of the girl your boyfriend had snuck out to be with, the girl whose lipstick marked his shirt like a scarlet letter.

“It’s not nothing,” you heard him say. You met his eyes and saw the concern there, the kindness in his expression that you hadn’t ever had reason to question until now. A horrible thought struck you - was this the first time he’d masked guilt with affection, or had it happened before? How many times had he left you to be with someone else and fooled you with his pretty smiles and pretty words? How many times had he not had to, since he was halfway across the world and he could wash out the smell of perfume and the color of lipstick before you ever saw?

You suddenly felt lightheaded, swaying slightly on your feet. He reached out to steady you and you tried to back away from him.

“Don’t,” you said. It came out weaker than you wanted.

“Easy, love,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard you. He set his glass down and pried yours from your hands to set it down too, gently gripping your arm to steady you.

“How much did you have to drink?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

You felt a flash of anger. “Does it matter?” Of course he’d like to think you felt this way because you were drunk. Was he really arrogant enough to think you hadn’t noticed, that your fight-or-flight reaction to him since he’d walked through the door was just because you’d had one too many drinks?

“No, I suppose not,” he said. “But maybe we should go home if you’re not feeling well.”

“I feel fine,” you snapped. The last thing you wanted was to go home with him. You sucked in a breath and your head spun. You could smell her on him, the scent of lavender that neither you nor Roger wore plain as day on his shirt and in his long blonde hair. You felt yourself react to the smell of her perfume and the acidic despair that welled in your already rocky stomach.

“Rog,” you said weakly. Your voice sounded strange, calmer than you felt.

“Yeah?”

You put your hand over your mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Unhindered by the same numbness you were, Roger quickly opened the back door and steered you outside. He held your hair back as you retched.

“Okay, love, that’s it,” he said soothingly. “I’ve got you.”

When nothing more would come, you straightened and reached a hand to wipe your mouth. You noticed your hand was shaking.

“Let me go get you some water,” Roger said. “I’ll be right back.”

You stared blankly out at the darkness as he went inside, the air cool against your face as tears finally fell. You wanted nothing more than to let him take care of you, to let him hold you and tell you everything was going to be ok. You wanted to forget what you knew, what had broken the way you looked at him and maybe could never be repaired. You loved him; you loved him so much you could hardly stand it. Maybe he loved you, but not that way. Not enough.

He came back with some water and you washed your mouth out with it, avoiding his worried gaze. You hated that you couldn’t stop crying; though it wasn’t the heaving sobs you thought might come, not yet anyway, it was still a relentless stream of tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how you tried.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart,” he said gently.

A part of you wanted to. A part of you wanted to tell him you’d seen what he had been too arrogant to hide, that you knew how easily you’d been discarded. How pathetic you must seem to him, a broken girl so easily fooled by his charm. You ran the heel of your palm over your cheek.

“It’s nothing,” you said. Your voice was soft with grief and shame. “I just - I just don’t feel good.”

“I know,” he said, sympathy in his voice. “Let’s get you home, ok?”

A sharp bitterness shot through you. “You sure there’s nobody you’d rather stay and talk with?”

He shook his head, seemingly unhurt by your tone. “Nobody as important as you, love.”

What a joke, you thought. Was that all you were to him? A joke, something to amuse him, something to make fun of without you realizing?

“Come on,” he said. You followed him back inside, not really having a choice - where else were you going to go? You could have told Roger you wanted to stay with one of the boys tonight, but you didn’t want to drag them into this. Besides, Roger would ask you why you didn’t want to come home with him, and then you’d have to tell him you knew. No other answer would convince him. But you didn’t want to be the one to break the ice about it. You wanted him to have the decency to tell you, to beg for your forgiveness; you wanted him to man up and take responsibility for what he’d done to you. For you to bring it up would only make it easier for him.

Thankfully no one stopped you on your way out. You didn’t know if you could manage pleasantries or ribbing from the boys that you and Roger were sneaking off early so you could have time alone. The thought of being anywhere close to Roger was painful to you; you’d rather die than sleep with him now, let him touch you with those hands that had felt another woman’s body and made her feel the things he made you feel.

When you got in the car, you moved as far away from him as you could manage, curling up against the passenger door as he started the drive home. It only briefly occurred to you to wonder whether Roger was sober enough to drive; your implicit desire to trust him with your well-being had been proved foolish, but you hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to get the two of you killed. You pressed your cheek against he cool glass of the window, shutting your eyes as the lights and shapes passing by threatened to make your head swim.

Roger didn’t say anything the whole ride home, but you didn’t know what you’d expected. You wished he would just say it, just admit what he’d done. That would be better than this tension, this thickness in the air that choked you.

You got out of the car before Roger had really even parked, eager to put some distance between you. You fished your keys out of your purse and tired to unlock the door, but between the alcohol clouding your head and the tears that refused to stop, you couldn’t get the damn key in. You bit back a sob as Roger’s hand came over yours and took the keys from you, unlocking the door and pushing it open for you.

Leaving your keys with him, you brushed past him and headed straight for your bedroom. Your chest tightened at the thought of sleeping in the same bed with him tonight, but you pushed that off to deal with later. Right now you wanted to get a shower and wash the night off of you, wash off his touch and the pain and the grief and the stubborn tears.

Despite everything, you were a little surprised that Roger didn’t ask to come in the shower with you. That was Roger’s favorite thing; even more than he liked making love to you in the shower did he like just being with you, washing your hair, feeling your skin against his.

He’s probably had his fill for tonight, you thought, nearly tasting your own bitterness. You made the water as hot as you could stand and closed your eyes as you stood under it, shoulders shaking as you kept your sobs as quiet as you could.

When the water grew cold and your tears had finally run dry, you got out of the shower and hesitated before opening the bathroom door. You didn’t know if Roger was in your bedroom, and you didn’t want to see him. You couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, though. You took a steadying breath and opened the door.

He wasn’t there, but you saw he’d laid out some comfy clothes for you on the bed, the exact ones you would have picked out for yourself. Just past your bedroom door you could hear Roger in the kitchen, humming “Here Comes the Sun” to himself. You felt a wave of sadness like a physical pain in your chest.

Too tired to find any other clothes, you put on the ones he’d put out and sat on the edge of the bed. You didn’t know what to do. You watched the shiny droplets of water fall from your hair to darken the fabric of your sweatpants. You noticed your hands were shaking but couldn’t make yourself care.

A few minutes later, you guessed - it could have been hours for all you knew - you heard the door open. You felt a surge of adrenaline as your fight-or-flight kicked in, but you were too numb to actually move.

“Hey, love,” Roger said, his voice gentle. “Feeling any better?”

You didn’t answer. You watched as he set a mug of tea on your bedside table.

“I made the peppermint kind,” he told you. “Thought it might settle your stomach a bit.”

He didn’t press you for a reply and you didn’t give one; he went to the dresser to get himself a change of clothes and you noticed he was still wearing his clothes from the party. The smudge of lipstick on the collar seemed to mock you, the scent of lavender you swore you could still make out bringing your headache back with a vengeance. He hadn’t even bothered to wash it off, to crumple up the shirt and put it in the laundry to get rid of the evidence on the off-chance you hadn’t noticed. It was like he was mocking you too.

“How many, Roger?” you asked.

He turned at your voice. “What’s that, love?”

You looked up at him, a determined set to your jaw. You wanted the truth, and you were done waiting for him to tell you.

“How many others were there?”

A confused frown tugged at his features. “What do you mean?” he asked. “How many others of what?”

Was he really going to play dumb? You felt anger spark into a fire in your chest.

“How many other girls, Roger?” you asked, your voice rising. “How many other girls were there before the one you had tonight?”

He looked genuinely confused, and you felt a burning self-hatred that you’d been fooled by him for so long. He was a terrific actor, you had to give him that, but no more. The game was up and no amount of playacting was going to fool you ever again.

“I don’t know what you mean, love,” he said, his voice disgustingly desperate. “What are you talking about? What girls?”

“Stop pretending, Roger!” you spat. “You don’t have to keep up the ruse any more. I just want to know how many girls you fucked when you thought I wouldn’t find out.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

You stood, feeling tears come again; this time, they were borne of rage instead of sadness.

“Please don’t make this any worse than it already is,” you said. “Just admit it. Be a man and own up to it, that’s all I ask. You owe me that much.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” he insisted.

You could have screamed. “I saw you, Roger!” you said. “I saw her putting her dress back on and I saw you come inside with that grin on your face like - ”

Like she’d been better than I have ever been. You couldn’t make yourself say it.

You met his eyes, wanting desperately to see anger or guilt or shame, something that would tell you he had finally dropped the act and felt the weight of his own guilt. When you saw only hurt, you couldn’t help the cry of frustration that escaped you.

“I don’t know what you thought you saw,” he said, his voice showing his distress. “But nothing like that happened, I promise. When I came in, I was - ”

Your breath came in a sob. “Please,” you said, cutting him off before he could give you some fabricated excuse. “Please, Roger, just stop.”

His hands went up in a gesture of helpless exasperation. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what to tell you. I swear to you that nothing happened.”

You pressed your hand to your mouth, anger and debilitating sorrow taking your breath away. Your sobs came as groans of pain as you tried and failed to keep them at bay.

“Did you ever love me, Roger?” you managed to say.

“What kind of question is that?” His voice was angry now. “I’ve always loved you, and I love you now despite whatever the hell this is you’re going on about.”

You sucked in a hitching breath. Of all the things you had imagined would come from this, his willingness to inflict such pain on you was something you had never considered. Why wouldn’t he just admit it?

“You can’t,” you sobbed. “You can’t love me. If you did you wouldn’t do this to me. You wouldn't lie right to my face when I told you I saw her, I saw what you’d done to her when you thought I wouldn’t know. You wouldn’t stand there with her fucking lipstick on your collar and tell me nothing happened.”

He looked at his shirt, pulling the collar out to see it better. You saw his face pale and realized that he hadn’t even known it was there.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice panicked and desperate. “This isn’t what you think.”

“What are we, in a fucking movie?” you said. “At least think of something more original.”

“No, sweetheart, I promise,” he said, his expression pained. “I'm so sorry. I didn't notice she'd got lipstick on me and if I'd seen it earlier I would have told you. It wasn't like that at all.”

“What was it like, then?” you spat.

“I went outside for a smoke, just like I told you,” he said, practically tripping over his words in his haste to get them out. “Brian was out there with this girl, and when she walked by me she tripped and I caught her. Her lipstick must have gotten on my shirt when I caught her.”

“Oh, right,” you said waspishly. “She fell and you caught her.”

“She did,” he said, distressed that you didn't believe him. “And if you’d asked me when I came in, I would have told you the same thing. I’m sorry I didn’t notice the lipstick before; I wish I had, and I wish I could have told you what happened before you got so upset.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Oh, God, this is all my fault, isn't it?” he said. “I'm so sorry, love. If I'd have known you thought - all you saw was her and then me coming in right after with her lipstick on me and my clothes half-off - God, and you've been thinking this whole time that I'd been with her. I had no idea. You were so upset and I couldn't even see it. I just thought you didn't feel well. I'm so sorry. But why didn’t you say anything at the party?”

You twisted your fingers together like you did when you were nervous; none of this was going the way you’d thought.

“I didn’t want to make a scene,” you told him, your mind racing to account for what he’d told you and how he was reacting to you. “I didn’t - I wanted you to tell me instead of me having to ask.”

For the first time you saw a flicker of hurt in his expression, a shadow of pain in him that didn’t come from realizing he’d hurt you. You’d hurt him in this too, and he couldn’t hide it.

“You wanted me to tell you I’d cheated on you?”

His quiet voice was like a dagger in your heart. “What am I supposed to think, Roger?” you said, lashing out in defense of yourself. “I’m not crazy for thinking that.”

He shook his head; you were surprised to see tears in his eyes.

“When have I ever given you reason to think that I’d cheat on you?” he said. “I mean, I’ll admit it doesn’t look great, and you don’t know how sorry I am - but do you really think I’m capable of that? Was it really that easy for you to take one look at me and assume I’d gone off and been with some other girl?”

“Easy?” you repeated. “No, Roger, it wasn’t easy. None of this has been easy.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said.

You bit your lip. Your vision was so blurred with tears that you couldn’t even see his face.

“Why didn’t Brian come in with her?” you asked. “If he was out there with you, why didn’t he come in?”

“He went in before her,” Roger said. “Maybe you didn’t see him come in. But he went in before her, and when she tried to follow, she fell.”

“Why did you take your jacket off?”

“I spilled my drink when I caught her. It got all over the sleeve of my blazer. Here,” he said, retrieving the jacket from where he’d thrown it in the laundry basket. “Feel it.”

Hesitantly, you reached out to feel the proffered fabric; it was damp and smelled like Chardonnay.

“I promise you, sweetheart,” he said, the seriousness of his tone only made weightier by the love that also colored it. “That’s all that happened. That’s all. I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t do anything with her. She tried to come on to me and I told her I didn’t want anything to do with her.”

He tossed the jacket on the bed and closed the distance between you, taking your face in his hands. He brushed your tears away with his thumb, looking at you with love and an unmistakable hurt.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you more than anything. I would never do anything to hurt you. I would never do anything to jeopardize what I have with you. I know how lucky I am to be with you, and I’d be an absolute fool to throw that away.”

You didn’t know what to say. You had been so consumed by anger, by despair, by the certainty that he had done the one thing you couldn’t forgive that you didn’t know what to feel now. Everything in you ached to trust him, to trust what he told you was true.

“I’ve never lied to you, sweetheart,” he said. He let his hands drop. “I’ve never kept things from you. If you don’t believe me, we can ring Brian right now and he can tell you what happened, but you can trust me. I’m not lying to you about this. I would never cheat on you, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I made you feel like I would.”

You studied his face, his features so dear to you, the expressions that showed his emotions like an open book. He was right; he’d never lied to you. Despite everything, despite the evidence that you had collected like weapons to use against him, he hadn’t gotten defensive towards you. He’d explained what happened and apologized over and over for unknowingly causing you pain.

You felt a crushing weight in your chest. If what he said was true and you'd misread the whole situation... You’d accused him of something horrible. You'd thought him capable of cheating on you. Roger, the sweetest man alive, the love of your life - you’d really thought he could do something like that to you. Though he had never hurt you before, though he had been nothing but good and kind and loving to you from the moment you met, you had been able to think that of him.

You suddenly felt sick, but for a reason different than you had before.

“Roger,” you said quietly.

He looked up at you. “Yes, love?”

Your face burned with shame as you realized how much you’d hurt him and how much he still loved you despite it. You breath hitched.

“Why aren't you mad at me?”

He softened and you couldn’t bear to see it, you couldn’t bear to see the love you didn’t deserve so plainly on his face. Your expression crumpled and you hid your face behind your hands, shoulder shaking with renewed sobs.

“Oh, love.” You heard the sadness in Roger’s voice as he pulled you close, holding you against his chest as you cried. He rubbed a soothing hand up and down your back. “It’s ok.”

“It’s not ok,” you sobbed. “I said those awful things and I - I thought you cheated on me and I didn’t trust you and I - ”

“Shh, hey,” he soothed. “Sweetheart. Take a deep breath.”

You tried to do as he said, your inhale hitched with sobs. You pulled back and tried to wipe the tears from your face.

“You should be yelling at screaming at me,” you said miserably.

“What for?” he asked gently. “I’m not angry with you, love. I’m sorry for what happened, and I’m sorry I’ve done a poor enough job loving you to make you think I could cheat on you, but I’m not angry with you. This whole thing is my fault, not yours.”

“That’s not true,” you said. “You didn’t do anything wrong and I just assumed that - ”

“You just assumed what anyone would have in your position,” he said. “Unfortunately everything aligned to make this a disaster, and I can’t fault you for thinking what you did. I only wish I’d have known sooner and could’ve avoided hurting you like I did.”

“But Roger,” you said, your voice pleading, desperate for him to know how sorry you were. “I hurt you so much worse, I didn’t trust you, I blew everything way out of proportion and I ruined your party and I said terrible things to you and I - ”

You sucked in a breath, feeling like you heart was in a million pieces. “I’m sorry, Roger,” you said, your voice soft with pain. “I’m so sorry.”

He hesitated only a second before gathering you in his arms again, any anger he’d felt at your words dissolved at the sincerity of your pain at having hurt him. Your accusations had been hurtful but not irrational; he was more sorry than he could say for the way one misstep after another had eventually come to this. The months of being apart, the whirlwind of emotions that this week had been, the clawing grief you both felt at the inevitability of being apart again - added to the seemingly little misunderstandings, it had grown into something much bigger and much more painful than it might have otherwise. He wasn’t angry at you for thinking what you had. Tours always made things strained between you, and he knew something like this was bound to happen eventually. You had been frightened that your separation had weakened his utter devotion to you, that during the months away from you it had become easier and easier for someone else to turn his head. He told himself he’d do better next time; he’d do everything in his power to make sure you knew that being halfway across the world wouldn’t make him love you any less. Nothing could change that, no matter how long you had to be apart.

The words of Freddie’s song came back to mind. When I’m not with you, think of me always; I love you, I love you.

“I’m sorry too,” he said gently. “I love you, you know? More than anything in the entire world. You don’t ever have to be scared of me leaving you or cheating on you or doing anything other than loving you with everything I have. God, you were the only thing I thought about while I was gone. You always are.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. You could still make out the scent of lavender but you ignored it, focusing instead on breathing him in, his scent of cologne and Marlboro Reds and something uniquely Roger. He was warm, his heartbeat strong and steady against your cheek.

“I missed you so much,” you said quietly. The thought of him leaving again brought tears back to your eyes, those miserable tears that never seemed to stop when he was gone. “I don’t want you to leave again.”

He sighed. “Me either, love.”

You looked up at him, gazing at the man you loved more than life itself. The man who had proved that no matter what, you couldn’t make him stop loving you. The man who tirelessly loved you despite everything about you that was unlovable.

“I love you, Roger,” you said.

He kissed you gently, with all the tenderness of the first flush of love and all the devotion of someone who had weathered the storm with you.

“I love you too,” he said. He drew you closer, resting his cheek on your head, memorizing the feel of you so he’d have it when he was thousands of miles away. “Oh, my love. I love you too.”

forever taglist: @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl

[dancing-deacon]

Drowse

A/N: Hello lovelies! This is a Roger Taylor x Reader song fic for Drowse that I wrote for @fredthelegend writing challenge! I loved doing this and adored the idea! I hope you enjoy!

Words: 5k

My Masterlist

The first meeting

“There’s all the more reason for laughing and crying

When you’re younger and life isn’t too hard at all.”

 You’d never forget the way the sun reflected off the almost white blonde hair of a seven-year-old Roger Taylor, jumping out of his parent’s car, eager to see his new home. In his hand he held a small toy car, immediately flinging himself onto the front lawn, making rumbling and screeching noises with his mouth.

You hid behind your mothers’ legs as she introduced herself to the new next-door neighbors. Your eyes never left the boy, lost in his own world.

“I like your car,” You had expressed. You loved the cherry red color of the hood and the way you could see your reflection in the hubcaps. Both those terms you had later learned from Roger, handing him tools as he leaned over the front end of his, “baby,” he would say.

“I’m gonna get one just like it when I’m older!” He shouted, shoving the car at your chest, his eyebrows raised high. His smile filled his face, gapped where he had already lost a few teeth. You wished you had lost as many as he had.

“Roger, don’t yell.” His father scolded from across the lawn.

Roger’s face fell to a huff. You liked the name Roger, and when you found out his last name, you thought it flowed together like a song. Roger Meddows Taylor was better than any song he had ever written.

“I’m (Y/N), do you have more pretty cars?” You asked eagerly, excited to see what other beautiful things he had to offer.

Roger nodded his head in excitement, his white blonde hair bouncing across his forehead. Roger grabbed your hand and tugged you inside, ready to share his life with you. 

 The first real gig

“I think I’ll be Clint Eastwood

Jimi Hendrix he was good

Let’s try William the Conqueror

Now who else do I like”

Roger couldn’t stay still that day in classes. His leg was shaking the entire day, his fingers fiddling his leg in the chords he later would play on stage.

“Rog,” you whispered, him completely zoned out looking at the ceiling, still fiddling. “Rog!” You whispered, louder this time, leaning to hit hi bouncing leg from your desk.

“Huh?” He hadn’t heard you, just felt your hand collide with his thigh.

“You should pay attention, we have a test tomorrow.” Roger turned his head to the board, a puzzled look growing on his face upon realization he was completely lost. He looked down at his empty notebook paper and frowned.

You waited for your teacher to turn his back to you, “I know you’re nervous, but I’ve heard you practice…you’ll be amazing, trust me.” You gave him a soft smile, hoping your truthful encouragement would calm him.

Roger nodded and matched your face. He outstretched his left hand towards yours and you grab it discreetly, filled with content as he squeezed it.

Roger Taylor on stage was natural. It was like watching a lion sunbathing following a big meal he had hunted himself. Controlled. Satisfied.

Through those long days you’d listen through your cracked window to Roger practicing in his bedroom, and how he’d be too shy to allow you to open it all the way, so you snuck it to a crack as he got lost in the music of it all. You had listened his notes turn to chords. Chords turn to phrases. Phrases turn to songs. It was a completely different sensation when he started on the drum set. Now that, that came natural to him. The sticks were an extension of himself. You never could focus on your task when he played, it hypnotized you. As it would soon the whole world, you had yet to know.

Roger wouldn’t take his eyes from you. He squinted behind the lights, making sure he could see your features, remembering the words you would whisper to him right before heading onto the stage, “You’re an amazing musician. You’ll be great. Just watch me if you get nervous.” Your words followed by a light kiss on his cheek, which you only gave when you knew he needed to know you were there for him. Plus, you knew it drove some of the girls in your school crazy, seeing you were close enough to do such an act on the rock band stud Roger Taylor.

It was weird seeing your school mates up there on stage, some of them seemed…uncomfortable. Being in front of a large crowds entertaining was not their calling. But Rog, you felt it. You felt how he was meant to play. Play for millions. He had potential. Music was a part of him. It made your stomach flutter, and your heart swell.

 The first fight

“And all your troubles are all very small”

Roger fell hard and fast for her. 

Theresa.

Head over heels was an understatement for the adoration he felt for her. Her raven black hair shone in any kind of light, which only showed her slim pale face better. Roger’s relationship had started just as fast as it had fizzled out. If there was one thing you had learned about Roger, none of the girls in his life seemed to stay there long, except for you.

Each night after their dates you’d hear her giggle outside his door, it seemed to go on for hours. You were always kept awake by the echo of the pecks of their lips going through your open window as you laid in bed.

She had expressed her concern of his best friend being female, even if Roger had never told you directly, you had heard the rumors floating at school. With Theresa, Roger started drifting. Roger spent less and less time with you those few autumn months.

“Sorry I have plans with Theresa,” were the most common words out of his mouth. 

He would drive her to school every morning rather than you, watching from the comfort of your breakfast table him leave extra early to drive across town and back. But he seemed happy, so you never mentioned your concern for your friendship, or the worry you’d lost him.

The night of the dance was the loneliest. In the past, you and Roger had gone to every school function together, no matter how much the other didn’t want to go, or even when you were sick with the stomach flu. Roger pulled you out of bed, promising you would have a night you’d never forget.

He was right. You’ll never forget Roger holding your hair back in the bathroom, the bass of the band thumping on the other side of the walls.

You watched Roger take a picture with Theresa before leaving, he looked so handsome in his suit, you made sure to tell him too, because he never dressed up for anything.

Roger gave you a hug before leaving, which only caused Theresa to shoot daggers at you. “Have fun at the dance!” You choked out, frustrated you’d be home alone rather than having fun with Roger. But you went inside, fake smile dropping as soon as you turned away.

You were reading a book in bed when you heard Roger’s car door slam, followed by his house door. No giggles, no pecks of kisses flooding your ears.

Through your open window you looked across the parkway, where Roger’s room was now lit up. You saw him throw his tie on the floor and flop onto his bed, face down. A common sign he was upset. You’ve seen it after every fight, every bad grade, every punishment.

You crawled out your window, tiptoeing over to his, knocking gently three times. Roger’s head perks up, his eyes red and damp. Seeing Roger cry was a rarity, and it tore away at your insides to see.

Roger made his way over to his window, unlatching it. He grabbed your hand without a word and helped you inside.

“Roger, what’s wrong?” You guided him to his bed, sitting down next to him, your legs as close as they could be.

“She, uh, she ended it. Said I was distracted?” Roger chuckled in disbelief.

“Distracted?” You questioned, just as confused as he was.

“Apparently she didn’t appreciate my best friend being a girl.” Roger shook his head, running his hand through his slicked back locks. “I talked about you too much, I guess. How we always went to dance together and how it felt weird you weren’t there.” Roger didn’t take his eyes off you, sadness filled them. “She didn’t like that.”

Your chest felt off, you felt terrible for being happy Theresa was out of the picture again, that you would have your best friend back. But it was your fault she was gone in the first place.

“You really talked about me?” Your head is flustered.

“Of course! I had to tell her some of our crazy stories,” Roger nudged his shoulder into yours.

Your soft smile dropped as fast as it appeared. “There haven’t been much of those recently.”

“I know.” Roger took a long pause. “I’m sorry. I mean, it was my first real relationship.” You could tell Roger’s heart was broken.

“The next one, promise you won’t forget about me?” You met his blue eyes, a tear falling from one.

“I promise” he holds your chin between his fingers shaking your head side to side lightly. “I’ll never let anyone come between me and my best girl” He dropped his hand, your face instantly missing his touch. 

“Wait…will you stay with me?” Roger asked uncomfortably. You hadn’t stayed the night since you were young. “I don’t really want to be alone.”

“Of course,” you wanted to comfort Roger. You felt whole being the one he went to heal his heartbreak.

Roger turned off the lights and went under the covers of his bed facing away from you. You slid in next to him, facing his back, putting your hand on his arm, to let you know you were there.

After a silence that you’d expect him to be asleep his voice broke. “Hey, (Y/N)? You forgive me, right?” Roger whispered, his voice shaky.

“I forgive you, Rog.” You whispered back, gently stroking your hand on his upper arm. “I’ll always forgive you.”

The last day before your final year

“Out here on the street we’d gather and meet

And scuff up the sidewalk

With endlessly restless feet”

You and Roger found your secret spot early on, a tiny nook hidden in the thick brush. Shaded by a weeping willow, the branches hang heavy into the river water, the current pulling them with it. Roger, ever since he was little, would perch on the lowest branch, legs swinging, growing closer and closer to the ground as the years went by. You could remember the year by the distance and how high up he looked. Roger would watch you, wading around in the shallows, slipping on rocks. You slowly learned which ones to avoid as you grew older. Roger enjoyed the way you found beauty in the small things. The tiny fish that avoided your step, the light green foam the shore lapped up, the branches you would use as support to lean your weight on.

The walk to the spot wasn’t long, at least it never felt that way. Yours and Roger’s voices filled he space between the trees, always carrying the trip on.

You had sat on the shore, your and Roger’s toes dipped in the cool water. Neither of you had said much after sitting down, just watched in awe of the clear sky and setting sun. It turned the river a deep purple shade, which Roger expressed, “I never thought I’d love purple, but…there it is.”

You smiled at his sentiment, imagining Roger wearing a purple shirt, rather than his usual black attire. “Purple would bring out your eyes,” you teased, knowing the girls at school would fawn over him more than they already had.

“You know it.” He gave a cheeky wink, hitting his shoulder into yours as he always did whenever you bantered.

The sun was just about to dip below the horizon, the stars starting to peak out in the clearing above the willow. “Rog, it’s getting late we should head back, we have early classes tomorrow.” You pushed off your hands into a squatting position, about to stand up. Roger grabbed your wrist, still staring forward at the water.

“Or…” he started, a mischievous look on his face, “Or we could do something crazy.”

You’ve seen that face a thousand times. The first being in his mother’s kitchen, right before burning his hand on the freshly baked cookies she told him to wait to eat. The scariest when he wanted to see how fast he could take his first car around the bend in the back roads, wrecking in a ditch.

Being best friends with Roger for eleven years, he had rubbed off on you in so many ways. His sense of mischief and desire for crazy stories to remember were the first traits to stick, since day one.

“What exactly do you have in mind? Not that I’m objecting to something crazy.” You had questioned, following his lead as he stood up.

Roger side-eyed you, his eyes growing wide. In one swift motion he removed his shirt, throwing it at the base of the willow tree. You threw your hand over your eyes, “Roger!”

He laughed at your comment, you’ve seen him many times without a shirt on, there was no surprise there. Roger tugged the shoulder of your shirt, “Come on, skinny dipping!”

You removed your hand from your eyes, your face starting to burn at the ridiculous thought, and how intimate the action he thought of is. “Ugh, Rog you don’t want to see that, and I don’t either.”

You hadn’t much thought about Roger in that way, you’ve seen the gross, the bad, and the ugly of him. Not once much wondering what he was hiding beneath it all. Roger of course, being the teenage boy he was, had wondered, even if he would never admit it.

“Fine, we will both close our eyes until we’re in the water. How about that?” His voice is eager, waiting for this new adventure with his best friend.

His lips had a slight pout, hand still holding tight your shirt. “Fine.” You agreed, trying to throw away any logic from your brain.

You removed your top slowly, watching Roger’s eyes trail away from you into the water. The night air hit your bare stomach giving you goosebumps.

Roger followed suit, removing his pants, kicking them to the side by his shoes. As you removed your skirt, you noticed Roger glance towards you, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

“Alright, Taylor…eyes closed.” You stated. You watched him make a big scene of shutting his eyes, squinting them shut with a tight smile at you. You lightly closed yours, peaking on last time to ensure his stayed as such.

You heard his movements and the sound of his underwear dropping on the grass. You giggled, pinching your eyes shut to fight every urge to take a little peek.

Roger cleared his throat, “I don’t hear anything, any day now.”

“Alright, alright.” You don’t think, in one fowl swoop you unclip your bra and drop your underwear to your feet.

“Grab my hand.” Roger spoke, brushing his arm up your side.

“What if I accidentally grab something else?” You joked to him, pulling your arm up to find his hand.

You knew the exact face Roger had on, a small smirk and squinted eyes. “Trust me you’d know,” he teased back.

“Ew, Roger!” You reached your hand around and smacked his bare chest hard, gripping his hand with the other.

He started out into the water, pulling you after him blindly. Even blind, you both knew which spots to avoid while walking, not to slip.

The water creeped up your body, enveloping your legs, butt, stomach, and then chest. You were up to your collar bone, the plants at the bottom of the river tickling your toes.

Still clutching Roger’s hand, you face towards him, “Ready?” he asked.

“Mhm.” You said lightly, a shake in your voice from the chill.

“3, 2, 1, open!” Both your eyes shot open, you broke into a hearty laugh, as does Roger.

“I can’t believe we are doing this!” You shrieked, immediately having your mouth covered by Roger’s dripping hand.

“Shhh, we’ll get caught.” He whispered hoarsely, giggling afterwards.

You grabbed his hand, pulling it away from your mouth. You cupped your fingers and scooped water up at his face, dowsing his hair.

Roger frowned, tightening his lips, eyebrows raised high.

“Oh no, Roger no,” you pointed your finger up at him, taking a clumsy step back as he took one forward, his mischievous grin had returned.

Roger lunged forward and scooped you up, one arm under your knees, the other around your lower back. You pinned you to his chest, yelling “Roger, yes!” He buckled his knees, dragging you underwater with him.

He jumped back out of the water, still clutching your naked body against his chest, which you now gripped onto for dear life. You squealed loudly as soon as you got air, wiping the water out of your eyes. Roger shook his long mane, scattering water droplets across the surface of the river. His smile was one you’d never forget, pure joy filled him in the moment. His entire physique, from his bright eyes to his curved lips showed how much he loved you, and how overjoyed he was to be experiencing this with his best friend.

Roger’s smile dropped slowly, watching yours do the same. Your breath shook at the way he held you close, his hand resting near to the bottom of your breast. You didn’t know if it was the hormones, the comfort of his presence, or the intimacy of the moment, but you leaned in towards his lips. Roger leaned his head in, matching your movements. You felt his chest thump under your palm as your lips met, both damp from the water. The kiss was short, but it was one you felt deep in your stomach, making your toes curl, Roger clutching into your side harder. Unlike any of your kisses with your past boyfriends.

You pulled away prematurely, Roger’s eyes were still shut, lost in the moment. Roger is quickly snapped out of it as you squirmed away from his grasp. His face first pleased, turned to worry.

“(Y/N), wait.” He tried reaching out to your hand as you waded through the water to the shore, shaking your head.

“Roger, lets go home.” Were your last words of the night. Getting out of the water, you ignore any worry he might be looking at your naked body. You quickly pulled on your clothing, struggling with your wet skin.

Roger followed behind you, his head stayed down, not to watch you, out of respect for your request to him before. He pulled on his pants, holding his shirt in his hands.

The two of you started down the dark road home silently. Roger noticed you shaking, clutching your arms to avoid the chilly night air. Roger, took the shirt he carried and wrapped it around your shoulders, smiling at you.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile back, worrying about what your actions meant, especially because he reciprocated.

Roger delivered you to your doorstep, as he usually does after spending time together. Roger gave you a quick hug, again, same as usual. “Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow for school.” He said while pulling away.

You nod, “Night, Rog.”

Roger left down your driveway and you opened your front door. As you are about to shut it behind you, you turn your head back at Roger, who at the same moment had turned his head to glance back at you, for one more look. Roger gave a small flirty smile, blushing lightly. Your lips curled up, heart fluttering, and shut the door for the night.

The goodbye

 “It’s the sad eyed goodbye

Yesterday’s moments I remember.”

 The last time at your secret spot for who knows how long. Roger was to be leaving tomorrow for London. A full six-hour drive, expensive plane ride, eternity away. It hadn’t hit you how far exactly he was moving and how he would no longer be a few yards away from your bedroom window.

You had been sitting next to him the entire day, first it was to help him pack his boxes, remembering a story with each thing you touched.

The pair of broken drumsticks framed by you after his first gig as the drummer. He broke them during the last song, but managed to finish with the nubs he had, even if you had to admit it sounded like shit. You were proud of him then.

The old tie he had to wear at the Cathedral School, across town away from you. How years before he transferred to the same school as you as a teenager, every afternoon after classes you’d sit on his front step, sharing every detail of your day. Those memories were some of your favorites. Hearing the drama of the girls and what better lunches he had.

The white long sleeve shirt you brought over from your house, folded neatly, preparing to put it in the box. The shirt you had borrowed from him on the first chilly summer night of the season, and how it still had the light scent of Roger and the bonfire you had that night. “No, no.” He put his arm over the top of the box, “You keep that. It’s yours now, to remember me.” Roger had a sad smile over his face, worried you would somehow forget him.

The car keys placed on his desk. Those you’ve touched only a few times, but that was on your terms. Roger was the one who taught you to drive, but he was a horrible backseat driver. After three lessons you called it quits, resulting in Roger driving you everywhere. Not that he ever minded. It was an excuse to spend more time with you.

Even though you knew you could never forget the most creative, unique, and charming man you’ve ever met. The man you had the honor of calling your best friend for all your life. “Thanks, Rog.” Is all you had managed to say, unable to speak anymore without getting choked up.

“Roger it’s going to be hard with you so far.” You admitted finally, watching him stop pacing across his room and approach you. He squatted down in front of you, hands on your knees.

“I know. But, hey, we have the phone, and breaks I’ll be home.” He tried to help make it better. Even if his heart wasn’t fully into the persuasion.

Roger raised his hand, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb. You gave him a small smile, he was always making sure to take care of you, as you did him.

“If it helps, I’m nervous as hell. New city, new life, new school.” Roger had this scared look on his face, it was different than any other look you’ve seen from him. “And leaving the band behind, what if I don’t play anymore?”

You laughed out loud at his last comment, making him shy his face away in embarrassment, knowing he was overthinking.

“Roger,” you ruffled his hair in your hands, “you’re probably the best musician out there, you’ll find some other band, trust me.” He had to trust you. Anytime you said so, he had to. You never steered him wrong. “Just don’t forget about your dentistry dreams.” You teased, knowing music was largely on his mind.

“I won’t,” he rolled his eyes, studying was the least of his desires in that moment, “But I will if I become famous.” He gave his classic Roger stage smile.

You stared at your feet, placed next to Roger’s who was still crouched in front of you. You voice grew quiet. “Roger, please don’t forget about me��if you do become famous.” In the back of your mind you knew it was possible. This boy was good. Better than anything you’ve ever heard. You knew he would go places.

Roger put his hand on your cheek, where your face grew warm at his touch. “I promise, I could never forget my best girl.”

 The first-time meeting again

“Never wanted to be the boy next door

Always thought I’d be something more

But it ain’t easy for a small town boy

It ain’t easy at all”

Forget is what he did.

Roger hadn’t called you for years. Hours apart turned to days, which turned to months, quickly to years. He got busy you had assumed. He turned famous.

The first sound of him on your radio threw you. He briefly mentioned on the phone he auditioned for a band, how real it felt, and how he knew it was right. But he wanted to hear about your life. But those calls were few and far between. Now you didn’t even know his number, and he couldn’t recall yours.

The voice, the voice you thought you had forgotten but upon hearing it, brought you back to the late-night talks, the school dances, the gigs he played for you.

He had moved on from being the boy next door. Your boy next door. You cried in front of the radio, one hand on your chest, the other on the dial, unable to find it in yourself to turn it off.

Queen.

The first look at the band on the television, Roger looked to be the same young boy you grew up with, but so different at the same time. You didn’t know if you’d even recognize his face if you saw him on the streets.

Let alone when he came knocking on your front door.

You heard the rumors around town, the Roger Taylor was coming back into town to visit his parents. It made you roll your eyes. You even thought about planning a trip out of town, but the vagueness of when your old neighbor would be back was enough to make you stay.

Through the peephole of your door, there he was. Same as he was years ago. His blonde locks cascading down to his shoulders, his fashion choices…more interesting.

You clicked open the door, immediately embraced by Roger’s arms. His scent was different, cigarettes the most prominent.

“Roger, hi.” Your chest was in pain, seeing your best friend in front of you, the one who broke his promises. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to visit my best girl.” He whispered this into your ear. There it was again. If you were his ‘best girl’ why hasn’t he talked to you in so long.

Roger kissed your cheek before pulling away, his pure smile wanting to melt your heart, but all you felt was ice.

“Wow, the drummer of Queen chose me? Of all the girls?” You put your hand up to you face, pretending to be flattered, even if deep down you were a little.

“Oh, always.” He gave a cheeky little wink, which made you giggle, forgetting briefly the pain he had caused you. How alone you had felt.

Your silence did something to Roger, you had never been quiet around him. He continued with the banter. “I mean, it’s stupid but I did always have somewhat of a crush on you,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Seeing you again brought that back.” His eyes looked young again. The bright blonde neighbor boy who stole your heart and shared your young life with. The same eyes that had watched you experience life and loved every moment of it.

 You had felt similar throughout your years, but it was different now. He wasn’t the same Roger. He always wanted to be more than the boy next door and now he was, he outgrew you and your small-town life.

You needed your most burning question answered. “Roger, why didn’t you call…” His smile dropped, instant regret filling his face. “Didn’t you miss me?” Your throat burned from holding back tears. “I sure did.”

Roger closed his eyes, dreading this question since his first year away. “I honestly didn’t realize how much time had passed, especially after joining Queen. Then, after a while, I thought it was too late, that it had been too long.”

“Roger, you forgot.” You didn’t want to believe it especially the last night you spent together where he promised to always remember.

Roger jolted forward, placing his hands on your shoulders, face close to yours. “I never forgot about you. I’m so sorry if it felt that way. I thought of you all the time.”

His hands clutched into your skin, starting to hurt. “Why don’t I believe you.” Your words barely came out. Any louder, tears would have poured down your cheeks. You didn’t want Roger to see how much pain he had caused you.

“(Y/N), I love you dearly, and I always will. I wish I could’ve experienced the past few years with you.” Roger paused, moving his eyes back and forth, the gears were turning in his head. “Please, let me take you back to London with me, it can be just like old times again.” Roger sounded so hopeful, even though his eyes were begging.

You brushed his arms off your shoulders, taking a step back to your front door. “Call me again in five years, Roger. If you remember.” You turn to close the door, but Roger grabs the doorknob, tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes puffy and raw.

“Please.” Is all he asked.

But you couldn't find it in your heart to forgive him this time.

“We are different people now; you and I both need to move on with our lives. But you’ll always have a special place in my heart, Rog.” You clicked the door shut, your life now filled only with distant memories of your best friend, Roger Taylor. 

taglist @blissfully-queen @roger-taylor-stole-my-heart @freedie-mercoory @fredthelegend

[silliusssoddus]

Take Another Piece Of My Heart

A/N: I’ve been listening to "Let Me Live" from the Made in Heaven album on repeat and I got the idea of reader living with John as he’s going through Freddie’s death. Also I’m pretty new to this whole writing thing so I’m really sorry this is really bad :/

Warnings: aaangst, mentions of death (Freddie Mercury), inaccuracies, Deacy with a c (lol)

Here’s a goofy gif to ease the pain ;)

You woke up to the familiar smell of your boyfriend’s stench that had been present for the past week. John had barely moved from his bed since the morning you both received a call from Jim, saying Freddie had died the evening before. He’d been quiet ever since, occasionally throwing in a few ‘good morning’s, ‘goodnight’s or ‘I'm not hungry’s’ here and there. You tried your best to leave him be, but you hated seeing him like this.

“Good morning, sweet.” you said as you pecked a kiss at his cheek. He buried his face into his pillow at the feeling of your lips, making you frown. You ran your hand through his hair, ignoring the fact that he flinched at the touch as well. You announced that he should take a bath.

“Bri and Rog want you to be down at the studio today, only if you felt like recording.” He nodded, shuffling and stumbling to the bathroom.

You heard him close the door and lock it. You sighed - he never locks the bathroom door. After opening the windows in the bedroom and making the bed, you made your way to the kitchen to make some cheese on toast for him, hoping that would bring him joy somehow.

While you were pouring the hot water into two cups for tea, you heard him walk into the kitchen. You turned around to talk to him, but your words were quickly replaced by stifled giggles. John had wrapped a towel around his chest, instead of his waist. He somehow found a way to wrap another towel around his head, but what surprised you the most was that the towel didn’t fall. You gave him a light smile as you wrapped the towel in its rightful place and looked up at him. His eyes were avoiding yours.

“Guess I'm too used to taking care of you.” he muttered, so quietly that you almost didn’t catch it. You pressed your lips together as your fingers traced the outline of his jaw. He didn’t like the contact and leaned out of it. You missed the old Deacy, where all he had to do was smile to make you forget your struggles. He wouldn’t sleep until you fell asleep first or get out of bed before you were awake. He’d cuddle you through your nightmares and listen eagerly at every great dream you had.

He’d been so distant lately. It was like he left with Freddie.

“Listen, I get that you just wanna be alone for now but I am here for emotional support, being your girlfriend and all, but only if you want me to be.”

“I'm fine, Y/N, you don’t need to keep asking me,” he said, rather sternly, “and you’re helping me enough.” He sat down at the kitchen counter and took a bite of his cheesy toast.

“Deacy, I know you’re not. And I'm not helping one bit. You’ve been avoiding me, Brian and Rog this whole week. Speaking of, they really wanna finish this album. It might help you clear your mind, doing something you enjoy.”

“I can’t seem to enjoy anything when everything reminds me of him! Especially playing the bass and being with those two,” he raised his voice, making the both of you uncomfortable, “even you remind me of him.” he sighed.

Of course you did. It was Freddie that made him go to a club that night, the same club you happened to be in. He made him talk to you, get your phone number and persuaded him into calling you later that night.

“I'll tell the boys you’re not up for recording today.”

“Thank you...love.” There was a slight sign of uncomfort at the last word, which caused you to shudder.

You really felt useless to him.

The phone call was made. Brian and Roger both understood his reasoning, but they expected something from him sooner than later. You said you’re trying your best and they agreed. John had made himself comfortable on the sofa, his body sprawled across it, staring at the ceiling. You gave him some clothes you found upstairs in his closet and you helped him as he slowly wriggled into them, despite him frequently mumbling that he could do it by himself and that he didn’t need help. You took a seat at the piano next to the fireplace, prodding the keys and playing a familiar tune.

“Monday, start of my holiday. Freedom for just one week, feels good to get away.”

You heard a slight chuckle and you beamed. It worked! He joined you with the second verse.

“Tuesday, I saw her down on the beach. I stood and watched a while, and she looked and smiled at me.” he sang, turning to look at you. You couldn’t help but notice his eyes, glossed with a thin layer of tears.

“Wednesday, I didn't see her. I hoped that she'd be back tomorrow.

And then on Thursday, my luck had changed. She stood there all alone, I went and asked her name. I never thought that this could happen to me in only seven days. It would take a hundred or more for memories to fade.”

You decided to end the song there as John went back to staring at the ceiling in deep thought.

“Y’know, it wouldn’t kill you to listen to your own words.”

“Eh?”

””It would take a hundred or more for memories to fade”? Love, Freddie might be gone, but you can still continue his legacy.”

He broke into tears after that sentence. You abruptly left the piano to kneel next to his head and comfort him.

“Oh, God I'm sorry, I'm really sorry love-“

“N-no it’s not your fault it’s...it’s just the song I-“ he spoke through sobs. You’d never actually seen him cry before, not even after the phone call, and you could feel your heart shattering into a million pieces at the sight of him so broken, “I wanted to write this for you but I couldn’t find the right words. Freddie, he- he helped me so much.”

“And look at how successful this and all your other songs turned out to be. Look at how successful you all are.”

“But that was because of him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Deac,” you said as you sat him up so you could sit next to him. His head automatically fell into your shoulder and you felt the tiniest bit of relief, “you guys are all so good at doing what you do. That’s why millions of people love you and your songs. Hell, I don’t think the name Queen will ever die out.”

“I just- I'm too scared to write a song without having the usual feedback I get from Freddie.”

You cupped his cheek, tilting his head a little to kiss his forehead. You could tell that he was trying so hard to stop himself from flinching.

“Tell you what, since I’ve inspired you before, we’ll go to the studio today and I’ll stay. You can always get feedback from the boys. Or me. Though I’m not as talented.”

He looked up with red eyes and a small Deacy smile that didn’t last long. You wiped away his tears and was about to lean down to kiss his lips, but he seemed to predict that move as he leant his head on the other side of the sofa. Just as you thought things were working out well.

“I love you.” you said as you got up to call Brian and Roger, stroking John’s cheek before you left the room. He didn’t react to that at all.

-

You both walked in to the studio, Deacy carrying his bass with both hands. Brian saw you walk in, frowning at the lack of physical contact between the two of you. He could definitely tell that something was wrong. You hoped he’d ask you later - he gives useful advice sometimes. Roger was standing next to him and when he saw you, he looked more delighted than John recently looked waking up.

“Y/N! Finally!” he ran over to you, kissing your cheek and pulling you into a deep hug, “and Deacy! We’re so relieved you’re here. We really need your expertise.”

“Roger and I have been fighting on how to continue "Let Me Live". It’s the only song we have left of the album, but we’re not gonna release it just yet. Better let the press settle down a bit first.” He let out a sad chuckle when you went to hug him.

“Thought we decided to drop that.” John muttered.

“Ah, we revived it. Anyway, we only have that one verse that Freddie wrote.” Brian finished, scratching his chin with the end of a pencil. John and Roger made their way over and crowded around the various sheets of papers filled to the sides with music notes.

“Why don’t we go for the same melodic structure and just change the lyrics? That way we don’t risk messing up.” John said and the other two seemed to like it. Roger patted John on the back.

“See? This is the genius we were missing.” he said grinning. You laughed at Brian rolling his eyes. John gave a small smile to Roger, but his face quickly turned poker.

“Alright then, let’s just have you improvise and we can gather up some words.” Brian suggested.

“Um, yeah sure.” John never liked singing - he’d only ever do it if it was with you or the band.

“Don’t worry, sweet,” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder, which he wasn’t slow to subtly shrug off. You saw in of the corner of your eye that Brian was looking your way, “just remember what I said. I'm your inspiration, baby.” you said playfully. Nothing. You walked into the control room where Brian and Roger was, ready to press the button and let John sing.

“Okay, "Let Me Live" additional verse, recording one...aaand go.” Brian said, pointing to John and pressing a button that started playing Freddie's vocals.

“Take your time, we’ll just loop the instrumentals and write down the lyrics until you stop.” Roger called out, holding a notebook and pen. John nodded, gluing his eyes on you as his brain visibly whirred.

As the recording of Freddie finished what was then a very short chorus, John started singing.

“Why don’t you take another piece of my…soul? Why don’t you...shape it, and...shake it...ah- um, until you’re really in control. Does that work?” he called out, breaking eye contact with you. Frantically writing, Roger nodded.

“’Good, it’s good. Let’s re-record that part with more confidence this time.” John nodded. As he re-sang the lines, Brian turned to look at you.

“Y/N?” you hummed in response, “Have you noticed that he’s been staring at you the whole time he sang those lines?”

“I told him he could look at me for inspiration. Like how he wrote “In Only Seven Days”?”

“Yes, but that was a love song. This...I'm not too sure what this is, to be honest.”

You paused to hear that John had gone on to complete the chorus and was now working on the bridge with Roger.

“I’ve noticed you two aren’t handsy. Very unnatural - well, for you.” he grinned at you when you playfully shoved his shoulder.

“Thanks for worrying. I guess we all just have different ways of getting through something like this.”

“I guess so. But for the sake of your happiness, I'm gonna call a break so you can talk it out.”

“You’re too kind. Make sure you listen through the tapes.”

“I got it,” he said with a wink, “Alright, great work Deacy. You deserve a break.”

You suddenly felt a wave of fear fall over your body and walked outside to get some fresh air, John following you.

“You alright?” he asked you.

“Those were some pretty harsh lyrics, Deac.” you whispered.

“It’s a pretty harsh song.”

“But you were staring at me while singing it. It’s like you were telling me those exact words.” You bit your lip, he didn’t seem to look guilty.

“I just sang what came into mind when I look at you.” he shrugged.

“You think I'm controlling?” you crossed your arms, trying to mask the growing pain in your chest. Tears started to well up in your eyes.

“No- well...no, that’s not what I meant. It’s just-“ he obviously had something he was hiding.

“What’s wrong, John?” you tried to sound soothing, but it ended up sounding desperate. He was startled at your use of his real name, but his forehead quickly furrowed.

“Look, I’m fine! Could you please stop pestering me!” he shouted at you and you stood in shock, not knowing what to say.

“God, Y/N, this past week I’ve had to deal with your voice constantly repeating the same sentence.” his fists were clenched. You were speechless - in the almost 20 years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him get visibly mad at anything.

“I- I’m just trying to help-”

“Well, it’s clearly not working! I thought you’d stop after realising it wasn’t.”

“I did, I swear I tried to let you heal by yourself but...Deacy I just love you too much!”

“Yet I don’t feel the same way!” his voice lowered, realising what he said, “not anymore at least.”

You didn’t want to believe it at first. You searched hopelessly in his eyes, trying to find a sign of a joke somewhere, but you couldn’t. Your eyes fell to your shoes as you knew the truth.

“I just- I don’t feel like I can continue this. Us, I mean. Well...Queen and us.”

You felt your heart sink to your feet as the colour drained from your face. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I’m retiring. I want to finish the album with the boys and then leave. Spend more time with myself. It’s just- it doesn’t feel the same anymore. Not without Freddie.” His voice broke and he rubbed his eyes, “I tried giving it a shot, I can’t, Y/N, nothing feels right.”

“Deacy I-”

“Stop calling me that!”

Your knees were about to give way and your bottom lip started trembling.

“John. things could still work out. You just have tell me what I need to do.”

“I need you to go.” he said sharply. Those words felt like spears going directly through your stomach.

“But John-” you pleaded.

“No, stop. Just- let me live. Leave me alone.” He walked into the studio, leaving you out in the cold.

You hesitated for a few seconds, trying to get some feeling into your legs again and wiping the few drops of tears that had fallen, before walking into the studio. You kept your head down, ignoring Brian’s questions and Roger’s snarky comments on taking a long break. You grabbed your coat and turned to look at the crew for one last time.

“Good luck, you guys. Freddie’s proud of you all.”

You flashed a quick smile to both Brian and Roger as you turned and walked out, hot tears rolling down your face. You could hear John’s voice as they started practicing again.

“Why don't you take another little piece of my life? Why don't you twist it, and turn it, and cut it like a knife? All you do is live, all I do is die…”

You picked up the pace and ended up running down the road, trying to run as far away from his voice as possible, while you sobbed out your heart’s content.

- Part 2

Let me know what you thought! Criticism is openly welcomed :) 

Tags: @notthebackchat @deakyjohns @fatbottomedgorl @fredthelegend

[yourlettersinthesand]

‘39 - Brian May x reader

A/N: Well, here I am, writing reader insert fic. I’ve never written reader insert before, but @fredthelegend ‘s writing challenge came along and I figured I gotta step outside of my comfort zone at some point. This is probably not my best work and also very sappy at times, but hey - at least I tried. I’ve got a longer (and angstier) Roger fic coming up for this writing challenge too, but it’s not quite ready yet (yes, I’m very late). In the meantime, have some songwriting Brian fluff!

Reader is gender neutral, and this could also be read as BoRhap!Brian, if that’s what you’re into.

You came to your senses slowly, alternating between states of sleep and consciousness. You turned over a couple of times, burrowing your head into the soft sheets and letting the impressions of the world around you come back one at a time; sunlight dancing across your face and the warmth of the covers wrapped around your body. You were well aware that it was likely way past any reasonable time to get out of bed, but you were so tired, and it wasn’t like you had anywhere to be today. You might as well lie here for a bit longer, you decided, as you sprawled across the bed, limbs sticking out well outside of your own designated side of the bed.

Then, you realized that the other side of the bed was cold.

You opened your eyes fully, and the sight of the rumpled sheets next to you confirmed your suspicions.

You rolled onto your back, into a starfish position; closing your eyes for a moment and exhaling deeply. Last night had not been particularly wild - a couple of drinks with the band and a half-empty pub didn’t make for much excitement - but you had gotten back home late and the fact that you were already tired from the stressful past week didn’t help.

Then, you noticed the sound of soft guitar playing from the living room. Lifting your head slightly to look at the bedroom door, which had been left ajar, you frowned at first and then laughed silently, shaking your head. It wasn’t the first time you had woken up to something like this.

You stretched, groaning, then sat up and dragged yourself out of the sheets. You had fallen asleep in the same slightly oversized t-shirt you had been wearing when you got back to the flat last night, and settled for simply picking yesterday’s shorts off the floor and pulling them on to maintain some sort of dignity. You quietly pushed the door open and stepped forwards into the doorway, taking in the view of the living room and its resident.

Brian sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of the couch, his acoustic on his lap, strumming a slow-paced melody. Every now and then, he’d mumble a few words, as if trying them out to the beat. A pile of blank paper sheets lay to his right, and a single sheet with words scribbled on it to his left; a ballpoint pen discarded on top of it.

Brian’s hair was a mess and he was still wearing the worn-out t-shirt and sweatpants he had fallen asleep in last night. He looked gorgeous, and you caught yourself smiling a little, taking the opportunity to observe him while he still hadn’t noticed your presence.

Queen was doing well and for the past couple of years they had frequently been away on tours for months at a time, leaving you to your own devices back home. As happy as it made you that they were making it big, you hardly enjoyed the loneliness. So, knowing that you’d soon enough only have Brian’s voice at the other end of a phone line to keep you company, you were grateful for every moment like this that you could get.

“Genius at work?” you finally asked with a smirk, approaching him slowly.

Brian stopped playing and turned to look at you, a look of both joy and concern spreading across his face. “I guess so. Did I wake you?”

“God, no, I sleep like a bloody rock,” you assured him. “What are you writing, then?”

“Oh, just an idea that came to me. I’ve had a few chords in my head for a while now, but I only just came up with the proper order. And it’s still far from finished. I’m trying to come up with a melody.”

You kneeled on the floor next to the paper sheet, picking it up. A short sequence of chords was written on it: G, C, G, D, G, Em. A chorus or verse; you weren’t sure which one - and, frankly, Brian probably didn’t know either. Below it was a set of lyrics, about as short as the chord sequence. Brian’s handwriting was neat, but the letters were slightly disfigured; the rushed handwriting of someone in a hurry to put an idea into words before it was lost:

Don’t you hear my call, though you’re many years away?

Don’t you hear me calling you?

Write your letters in the sand, for the day I take your hand

You smiled. “It’s great.”

Brian’s eyes lit up a little, his eyebrows raising. “You think?”

“Yeah. Beautiful lyrics.” You read through the words on the paper again, regarding them carefully. “What’s the song gonna be about?”

Brian shrugged. “I’m not quite sure. I had this idea… It sounds a bit weird, but I had this idea of writing something inspired by the theory of relativity.”

You frowned, surprised. “The theory of relativity?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m imagining this…” Brian fidgeted with his fingers. “This man, who goes on a ship and travels somewhere, and he’s away for what he thinks is a short time, but then he comes back home and realizes that it’s been decades and everyone he used to know has aged without him. Don’t you think that would make a good song?” It was a genuine question, asked in a relaxed manner but with an underlying hint of insecurity.

“That’s- that’s amazing,” you said, sincerely. “Yes. Absolutely, it’s going to make a great song.”

Brian shrugged. “I hope so.”

“It is. It really is.”

Brian smiled, looking a little flustered. His eyes turned to the floor, his long fingers plucking at the strings of the guitar absentmindedly.

You crawled closer to him, reaching out and combing your fingers lightly through his hair. He leaned into the touch, before picking the playing back up, and your heart swelled. How lucky I am.

You remained in this position for a couple of minutes, Brian strumming his guitar and occasionally taking a break to write something down. Eventually he put the pen down, shifted slightly and placed the guitar gently on the floor to his right; your cue to lay down on his lap. You fit your head and upper body neatly onto his crossed legs, your back pressed against his stomach. You felt him lean back against the couch, and his fingers landed in your hair, running through it for a second. Your eyes fell shut almost instantly, You were always most comfortable like this.

“I thought about the fact that it’s kind of what touring is like, too,” he suddenly said, picking right back up where you had left the conversation several minutes ago. “I mean, you go away and feel as though you’re unstoppable and that you’ve got all the time in the world, but then you come back home and you realize that everybody else has moved on without you.”

You frowned, turning your head to look up at Brian. He didn’t look back at you; instead, his gaze was fixed somewhere on the other side of the room. His expression was neutral, but there was something underlying there, too; a sense of guilt, maybe. Something heavy and sad.

His voice was thoughtful, almost guilty, and your heart ached. You clasped your fingers gently around his wrist, your thumb rubbing up and down almost of its own accord. “Want my honest opinion?” You paused for a beat, but Brian said nothing. You continued: ”I hate waiting for you. I hate it when you’re not here, I hate only being able to talk to you over the phone for weeks on end.” You could feel Brian tensing up a little. ”But that doesn’t mean I don’t think it’s worth it. And it certainly doesn’t mean I’ll stop waiting.”

You heard him exhale as his body relaxed beneath yours, his fingers running through your hair once. In return, you put your hand on his knee, rubbing gently for a couple of seconds.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, shaking his head slightly.

“Of course not. I’m way out of your league. Much hotter than you, and cooler, and…”

Brian slapped your arm gently, his body shaking with quiet laughter. “Oh, shut the hell up.”

“It’s true, though! I should be dating someone more rockstar-esque. Roger, maybe.”

“You think Roger reaches your standards? Are we talking about the same person? Last night he mixed beer and strawberry soda for you when you said you wanted a non-alcoholic drink.”

“Yes, he did, like a true gentleman.”

Brian snorted, and you took his hand, pressing it against your lips. “Sorry. Of course you are the one for me; Brian May, love of my life, apple of my eye, most epic shag I’ve ever had. I would never replace you, no matter how great Roger’s drinks are.”

“It’s like a giant hug.”

“I’d expect as much.”

Your laughter died down eventually, giving way to a comfortable silence and stillness. After a few seconds, Brian leaned forward - a movement made awkward by your respective positions - and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. You smiled widely as he moved on to your mouth, this time kissing you deeply.

He hummed contentedly. “You’re lovely,” he told you, his face hovering just above yours. You laughed briefly.

“You’re lovelier.”

[39isabop-blog]

Sail Away Sweet Sister, Part 1

Roger and you (Brian’s little sister) want to get married, but you insist on asking for Brian’s blessing. For @fredthelegend‘s #ftlchallenge. 

Warnings: Mentions of sex

Word Count: 1100

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

“Roger, it’d mean the world to me if you’d just ask him,” you insist.

“He’d never say yes. You’re his little sister, and he just sees me as his irresponsible friend, nothing more,” Roger replies.

He sits up in bed, just wearing his boxers. He gives his blonde mane a shake and you giggle softly at his bedhead. “Then why did we even start to date in the first place?” you ask.

“Because you’re irresistible. Because you’re adorable. And because you’re nothing like your brother,” Roger leans over you, kissing you between every sentence.

He was right. Brian was analytical and left-brained. He was a problem solver, completely dependable. You were the artsy one, the one who lived without boundaries. The only thing you had in common with Brian was looks. You shared the height, the massive head of curls, and your mother’s stunning eyes. In fact, from behind, the band often mistook you for Brian when you dropped by. But other than that, you were nothing like Brian.

“Roger, if I’m going to say yes to a proposal, you have to ask Brian,” you say, poking a finger into his bare chest sternly.

“I never said I wouldn’t ask. I said he probably wouldn’t give us his blessing. Why don’t you just want me to ask your dad?”

“Because you’re Brian’s bandmate! It would mean so much to him, and it’d prove that you can be thoughtful. After all, I wouldn’t have even met you without him,” you say.

Roger groaned, but he knew you were right. It was the right thing to do, and Brian would love it. “Alright, when should I ask him?”

“Well,” you twirled a curl around your finger, “I’ve kinda already asked him over for dinner tonight.”

Roger’s face drops. “What? He doesn’t even know that we live together!”

“I guess he’ll have to figure that out for himself then,” you shrug.

Roger immediately hops out of bed to begin tidying your apartment. He shoves shirts into drawers and throws shoes into the closet. You just laugh, “He’s not coming into our bedroom!”

“He just might when he finds out that there’s only one!” Roger squeaks, clearly panicked.

You climb out of bed and hug Roger from behind and kiss his shoulder. “He lives with his girlfriend. That’s clearly fine with him, and I don’t see why he wouldn’t be fine with us doing the exact same thing.”

“But then he’ll know we’ve slept together! That I’ve slept with his little sister!” Roger nearly shrieks.

“Why are you suddenly worried about it? You were fine last night. He knows you’re no prude, and as for me, it’s just what couples do. Rog, you need to calm down. Let me start breakfast.”

You leave Roger to himself in your bedroom and you go to fix some eggs and coffee. Just as you set down a plate for Roger, he emerges from your bedroom. He’s wearing his wireframe glasses, something he’ll only do around you. “You need to wear those more often. It makes you look smart,” you say with a smile.

“Are you saying I look stupid without them?” Roger laughs.

“No, all I’m saying is that maybe you wouldn’t run into things as often.” You sit down at the table across from Roger, clutching your mug of coffee.

Roger does agree to wear his glasses for the rest of the day, since it helps him see what he’s doing. You’ve never seen Roger so much as lift a dish towel, but here he is, frantically sweeping and dusting your tiny apartment. He buzzes around like a bee, fluffing pillows and stacking books. While Roger cleans, you prepare dinner. You decide to make spaghetti and meatballs, but you keep the meatballs separate since Brian won’t eat them.

You and Roger are nearly exhausted by the time Brian comes over. You hear a knock at the door and nudge Roger to answer it. “Does he even know I’m here?” he hisses in panic.

Roger finally opens the front door and lets Brian in. “Roger, what a surprise! I thought it would be a night in with my sweet sister, but I’m glad to see you,” Brian slaps Roger on the back.

“Brian!” you dash across the apartment with your arms spread to give him a massive hug.

“God, it feels like forever, sis,” Brian says as he hugs you. “What smells so good?”

You tell him what’s for dinner and bring him into the living room. “Before we eat, Roger needs to talk to you,” you elbow Roger in the ribs.

“Uh, yeah. I have to ask you something,” Roger mumbles.

“Christ, Roger, your face is white. Something must be wrong. Let’s sit down,” Brian says, sinking into your sofa.

You sit next to Brian and Roger sits on the coffee table cross-legged. “Brian, I need to ask you something.”

Brian laughs nervously, his eyelashes fluttering, “Yeah, what?”

“Y/N have been seeing each other for some time now, and we’d like to take it to the next level. I’m asking your permission to propose to her,” Roger explains.

“Oh,” Brian says softly. He glances at you, “Is this true?”

You nod, your curls that are so similar to his bobbing with your head. “Yep. One hundred percent.”

Brian takes your hand in his and reaches for Roger’s hand. “I knew you two were perfect for each other. Of course I’m going to say yes. Why would I stand in your way?”

Roger lets out an enormous sigh of relief, “I thought you’d be miffed that I was banging your sister.”

“Goddammit, Roger!” you say, jokingly slapping his shoulder. “You ruined a perfectly good sentimental moment.”

Roger got up from the coffee table and dashed into your bedroom. “Hey, Bri? Mind following me?” he asked.

Brian got up and followed Roger into your bedroom. You heard rummaging and Brian murmuring, “That’s perfect!”

Roger emerges from the bedroom smiling sheepishly, Brian right behind him. “Y/N,” Roger says, struggling to get on one knee in your tiny living room, “Will you marry me?”

He opens a box to reveal an emerald ring surrounded by tiny diamonds. You gasp, “Roger! Yes!”

Roger takes your hand and slips the ring on. “It was my grandmother’s. She and my grandpa were married for sixty years. I figured it was lucky,” he explains.

You both sink on to the sofa and Roger wraps his arms around you. You’re nearly in tears, but they’re tears of joy. Brian clears his throat, “I’ll let Freddie know that he has a party to plan.”

[agayattheaces]

Break Free

Written for @fredthelegend ‘s writing challenge! ‘Twas a fun time!

Prompt: I Want To Break Free

Pairing: Reader x John Deacon (platonic)

Warnings: family drama, coming out

Word count: 1.2k

You pulled your woollen scarf higher over your face, both to block out the cold and to hide the tears that were streaming down your face. The air was cold and bit at your exposed skin. The sky was clouding over, growing a menacing dark grey, with a new snowfall threatening. As if that helped with your mood.

You’d been walking for almost half an hour now, and it felt as if the tears had frozen on your face. Your day had not gone as planned. What started as a family reunion ended up with your family basically disowning you. Now your family was in your flat and you had fled to the streets, simply alone with your thoughts.

The sky continued to grow darker and a light smattering of snowflakes began to fall from the sky. If you were in a better mood you would stop and appreciate the weather. Instead, you followed your feet with your eyes, not caring where you were going, so long as it was away from your family.

“Y/N! Y/N! Can you hear me?” a voice called, growing louder with every syllable. You looked up to see a familiar head of curly hair poking out of a red car.

“Y/N, are you okay?” came the voice of John, your best friend. He stopped his car and hurried out.

“Oh my god, you’re freezing, get in the car!” he said, guiding you towards the car and opening the door for you. You shot him a small, yet teary smile of gratitude. The two of you sat in silence until you reached John’s house.

“Don’t worry, Ronnie has taken the kids out for the evening to hang out with Chrissie and her kids. So the house will be quiet.” John assured you as the two of you walked up the path to the door.

“I’m sorry to intrude, John.” you said softly.

“Y/N. You’re my best friend. You’d never intrude.” he replied.

You’d known John since you were 16, meeting each other at school. You’d been almost inseparable since then, even with John’s success with his band, you’d managed to keep in close contact. Now, the pair of you were basically siblings, and tried to catch up as often you could. Until today, John was the only person who knew your secret.

The pair of you sat down on the couch. “What happened?” John asked.

You took a deep breath. “We had a family reunion.  And everyone was harassing me about my love life, and..” you sniffed, trying to hold back tears.

“Y/N, what happened? Did they find out?” he asked, shifting closer and putting an arm around you.

You nodded. “They kept pushing me, and pushing me, and I panicked.” you sobbed. “I told them I wasn’t straight and they didn’t understand. And I tried to  explain, but once the word ‘queer’ came into play they just kept shouting and fighting and hurling insults at me… so I left.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” John said, rubbing comforting circles onto your shoulders.

“What made it worse is that I let slip that I’m in love with someone and then I just let them all down! All because the person I like is of the same sex.” you said, blinking furiously to hold back any further tears.

“It’s wonderful that you’re in love, Y/N. I couldn’t care less who with. You’re you, and you don’t need anyone. Sometimes you’ve just got to break free.” John said.

“That was quite poetic.” you said, chucking. “Sounds like it could be a song… got to break free?”

John never failed to bring you comfort and make you feel better. “That’s a good idea actually…” he mumbled. “But it can wait. Right now, you’re my priority. Can’t have my best friend being all sad. Give me one minute!” he said, getting up and heading into the kitchen.

In his absence, your cursed your own stupidity. Yeah, you’d fallen in love, the first time you could remember doing so. But you were so scared to do anything about it. You knew the person liked you back, but you were terrified to make the first move.

John returned a few moments later with two glasses and a bottle of wine. “Didn’t know what occasion to save this for, but I do know a good bottle of wine can aid greatly in cheering up a friend.” he smiled, pouring you a glass.

The two of you sat there on the couch, enjoying the wine and chatting about anything you could think of, until you felt your eyes began to droop. It was only 8pm but it had been a long day. John noticed as you stifled yet another yawn. “I’m not really in a position to drive, but do you want to stay in the guest room? Or I can call a cab?”

“I’ll stay. It’ll save money.” you said timidly.

John held out his hand for you, and led you to the guest room. You’d stayed there on many occasions, but greatly appreciated his kindliness in your tipsy, exhausted, and emotional state. He gave you a spare pair of pyjamas and planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, and thank you, John.”

You curled up in the bed, and drifted off the sound of gentle chords playing on the piano downstairs.

~

A few months later, you were comfortable in your own skin once more. You’d removed yourself from the family members who had shunned you, removing all toxicity in your life. You and your love were happily together. You’d chatted to John a few times since, even though he was busy recording his band’s latest album. He’d told you he was working on something for you and you couldn’t contain your excitement.

You were sitting in your car, heading home from work, blaring the radio as loud as possible.

“And now, we have an exciting new single from everyone’s favourite rock band, Queen!” came the slightly static voice of the radio host.

A funky baseline played through the speakers. You could tell this song was one of John’s instantly. And then you heard the lyrics.

“I want to break free!”

Your eyes welled with tears. This is what John had been working on. Instead of heading home, you headed to John’s, attentively listening to the song.

Within moments of the song finishing, you pulled up at John’s, and hurried to the door. You knocked twice, and John opened the door.

“Y/N! Hey!” he greeted, and you tackled him in a hug.

“You’re amazing.” you said, sobbing gently into his shoulder.

“Y/N?” he asked, bewildered.

“I want to break free.” you smiled. “And I successfully did. Thanks to you.”

“Y/N, it was nothing.”

“No. It wasn’t, God knows, I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.” you said.

John softly hummed as you embraced, and you joined in at the end of the verse.

“God knows, God knows I want to break free…”

[deacytits]

Save Me (Roger Taylor x Reader)

This is for @fredthelegend​‘s writing challenge! This is the first of my three prompts. I had originally chosen John but then read the lyrics again and was devastated so I swapped him for Roger and put Deacy on another prompt so HERE YA GO.

This is 1380 words of super angsty songfic.

It started off so well

You had met in college. You were in the art college with Freddie and had been walking on campus with him when you ran into Roger. You couldn’t keep your eyes off each other. Freddie gave Roger your number and it was an instant connection. You should have known those gorgeous blue eyes and that little smirk were nothing but trouble.

They said we made a perfect pair

You balanced each other out. You smoothed out his wild and reckless side, and he brought you out of your comfort zone. You were completely enthralled with one another. Conversation was never lacking and you were always touching in some form or fashion, smiles plastered on your faces.

I clothed myself in your glory and your love

The more popular Queen became, the more you both soaked up the glory. He was meant to be on that stage, and you loved nothing more than to watch him. You rented a flat together, spending days couped up in bed when he would return from tour. He relished buying you gifts - expensive lingerie from all over the world, a new fur coat, even sending you lavish bouquets of flowers every few weeks when he was away. It all made both your hearts swell.

How I loved you

You always seemed to have to defend Roger to your friends and family. Dating a rock star - weren’t you worried about what he was getting up to? He is the pretty one in the band after all… you would shoot them down every time. Your love was stronger than any groupie throwing themselves at him.

How I cried

The first photo showed up in the papers just after your three year anniversary. He said it wasn’t true, they happened to take the photo at a moment that made it look like something was happening when it wasn’t. You believed him. But when the second, third, fourth ones were plastered in the papers over the next year…. You couldn’t anymore.

The years of care and loyalty

All the years you had cared for him, flew out on tour to take care of him because he was sick and missed you… all the times you had surprised him, showing up on his birthday in US, showing up backstage in France when your job had suddenly taken you out of the country for a trip. All the times you had turned down other men, defended him.

Were nothing but a sham it seems

Everyone had been right, you were just too blind. The photos were just him getting sloppy and being caught.

The years belie we lived a lie

It had been going on for so long, longer than anyone cared to tell you. None of the boys could look at you as you screamed and threw things at Roger when he came to get his belongings. You had already packed them for him. “And all of you!” you turned on them. “I trusted you. None of you said anything. This could have ended years ago!” you screamed. Still none of them could meet you eyes. “Get out!”

I love you till I die

Despite the utter betrayal and heartbreak, you couldn’t help the jump in your heart every time you saw his photo or heard one of their songs. Your heart was still there, with him, and you didn’t know if it was ever going to come back.

Save me save me save me

I can't face this life alone

Everything reminded you of him. Even seeing your friends reminded you of him - remembering all the times they had been right. You became withdrawn, wallowing in your pain as you tried to find ways to heal yourself.

Save me save me save me

I'm naked and I'm far from home

You felt stripped of everything you were. Naked. Your apartment wasn’t home anymore. Roger had been your home, and he was so far away from you in every sense.

The slate will soon be clean

You were offered a promotion that took you across the country. You accepted it without hesitation.

I'll erase the memories

You looked back on the empty apartment you had once shared with him. The walls were bare of the art you had picked together. The couch that had seen so many memories was donated. The mattress sent to the dump. A fresh start.

To start again with somebody new

As you were struggling up the stairs with a box, your new neighbor poked their head out and offered a hand. He was handsome, tall, had kind eyes. He introduced himself as Allen. He finished helping you move in and offered to buy you pizza at the place down the street. You accepted.

Was it all wasted

All that love?

You thought all your time with Roger had been a waste in the end. The love you had grown and nourished together, squashed forever. But as you continued to spend time with Allen, your heart was screaming. It didn’t feel right. You didn’t feel that electric shock when his hand brushed against yours for the first time. Your first kiss felt like nothing more than pressing your lips to another’s.

I hang my head and I advertise

A soul for sale or rent

But still you pushed on with him, convinced you just needed time to let someone new into your life - to show you love again. You opened up to him about everything, sobbed on his shoulder as he listened to every word. He understood your need for time and healing.

I have no heart I'm cold inside

A year later and you were still keeping him at arm's length. He brought it up to you, again, angry tears rolling down his face. You didn’t feel a thing.

I have no real intent

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say.

Save me save me save me

I can't face this life alone

You moved back to London, falling into your old life and friends as if you had never left. Out in your old stomping grounds, you felt a tap on your shoulder at the pub one night.

Save me save me save me

Oh I'm naked and I'm far from home

You turned around, and your heart stopped. Roger. His hair was shorter, blonder. But his eyes were still that gorgeous blue and that smile… it still made you weak in the knees. You stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity. You felt naked in the middle of the crowd, but the feeling of home was a hot spot on your shoulder where he had touched you. “Hello, love.”

Each night I cry I still believe the lie

You talked all night, and he walked you home afterwards. He kissed your hand, lips lingering for a moment. Your hand tingled even after he let go, your skin on fire where he kissed you. He asked softly if he could call you. You nodded your answer, not trusting your voice. Laying in your bed alone that night, you let it all flood back for the first time in months. You sobbed in both relief and what could only be described as fear - were you going to let him back in?

I love you 'till I die

While your conversation at the bar had been lighthearted, going from topic to topic like it had when you were young, your next conversations were heavier in spirit. You talked about it all. You screamed, you cried, you held each other.

Save me save me save me

Save me save me oh save me

Don't let me face my life alone

“I don’t expect you to ever forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to you… and I’m tired. Tired of doing all this without you.”

Save me save me oh

I'm naked and I'm far from home

You had both laid your souls on the table. The good, the bad and the ugly. You were honest. You were naked. And after all those years of being homesick… you could feel it dissipating. Something in your heart released. The fog lifted, your shoulders felt lighter. The path home was lit brightly and sitting right in front of you. You smiled.

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@princessleiaqueen | @rogerscupboard | @hodgepodge-of-rog | @deacydeacy | @rogers-sweatbands | @anotheronebitesthedeaks | @depressedpolishgirl | @another-blog-bites-the-dust | @70srogertaylor | @yousaycoke-isaycaine | @instantezra​ | @sipulisipsi​ | @bestiaryyoumeanbeast​ | @rogers-wristbands​

[another-blog-bites-the-dust]

Somebody to love.

Summary: You and John are two people trying to find somebody to love. Then you meet each other.

Warnings: This is just tooth rotting sweetness. The fluffiest of the fluffiest fluff.

A/N: So this is one of my fics for @fredthelegend's writing challenge! I loved doing this- I loved the challenge! (If you haven't checked it out, it's still on and there's some songs left if y'all want to get in on the action!) I needed some John fluff in my life 😫😭apologies in advance for any typos! I hope you enjoy! 💖 Lyrics are bold italics!

Roger could see how unlucky in love his two best friends were. You, his childhood friend from Cornwall, had been stuck in a loveless rut for a while. John, his bandmate and someone he was quite protective over because he was the youngest, hadn't had any luck when it came to relationships.

You and John had never met but you both thought the same thing- that neither of you would find somebody to love.

You sighed down the phone, Roger was practically pleading you to come to London. "I don't know, Rog." You looked to the ceiling and played with the chord "The hotels are pretty expensive-"

"Stay with me!" He cut you off and you smirked shaking your head. "I'll even take the sofa bed if I have to. Please Y/N! I haven't seen you in months!"

"Ah yes," you laughed "Last time you saw me you pushed me in the freezing sea and I ended up with a cold for a week!" You and Roger both reminisced a little. He'd often travel down to Cornwall for a day or two and visit you while he was there. "Didn't you say you had roommates though? I'd want you to check with them that me staying is alright..."

He gasped, excitedly "So you're coming to London?"

"No, wait! I never-"

"Amazing! I can't wait to see you!" You couldn't help but laugh. You were heading to London wether you liked it or not. "I can pick you up from the train station, just let me know the day and time. How long do you want to stay for? A week? A month? Please say a month! It's been far too long!" He pleaded and you grinned.

"Alright...I'll stay for a month," you could hear Roger cheering on the other side of the phone. "There's a lot I want to see and do. But you better check with your roommates, Rog!"

"Yeah, yeah, roommates, uh huh..." he uttered before squealing. "You're coming to London!!" You giggled "I can't wait! It's going to be great," you hummed and took a sip of your tea. "You never know, Y/N, you might even find somebody to love." You choked on your tea while laughing. "London is a big place!" He tried to reason with his suggestion.

"Oh, Lord!" You laughed aloud "Ooh somebody...ooh somebody," you sighed "I doubt I'll find somebody anytime soon, Roggie." Roger playfully groaned at the nickname.

"Don't call me that in front of my roommates! God! They'd never let me live that down," you widely grinned. "Stop smiling! I know you're doing it!" It was like he could see you down the phone. "Alright, I'll let you go. Phone me when you arrange a date and with a time your train will get in! Bye, Y/N!"

"Bye Roger, see you soon." You said and Roger hung up the phone with a sneaky smile on his face. The first step of his plan was complete.

•••

A week later you met Roger at the train station. He had brought along Brian, Freddie and John who were moaning about him making a stop off at the station on the way to the recording studio. When the pair of you saw each other you screamed and ran to one another. The three boys shared a confused glance seeing Roger twirl you about in his arms. "I'm here!" You grinned and held his arms.

"You're here!" Roger hugged you "I'm so happy you are! Come on, I'll introduce you to the boys! They're just over there." He picked up your suitcase and groaned "What have you got in here? The whole of bloody Cornwall?" He complained.

"Oh ha ha..." you rolled your eyes and playfully nudged his arm. "Just got what I'll need...and a few presents!" You winked and Roger had a beaming grin on his face. "Are you sure they are alright with me staying?" You asked, getting closer to the group of confused looking men. Roger didn't say anything and you glared at him "You did tell them I was coming, didn't you?"

"Well..." his nose scrunched and his voice pitched a little. You opened your mouth to give him an earful but he just smiled. "It's fine! It's fine! They won't mind!" He cheekily smirked and then introduced you. "Guys, this is Y/N! Y/N meet Freddie, Brian and John!" You shook their hands, grinning a little wider when you reached John. He had the most beautiful, big eyes. "I said she could stay with us while she's in London. I mean, she's like a sister to me," he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pecked your temple "I wouldn't want her staying anywhere else."

"Fine with me," Brian grinned.

"Darling, we would love to have you stay!" Freddie sent you a friendly smile "And it will be excellent having someone with good taste in fashion staying with us!" Freddie stood next to you admiring your coat while glaring at the others. It made you laugh. "We'll have to teach them a lesson!"

"John?" Roger caught the bassists attention. His eyes were on you. "You okay with Y/N staying?"

He nodded "Y-yeah! Course!" John nervously managed to spit out. "Can I help you with anything, Y/N?" The way he said your name and his chivalrous nature made your heart skip a beat.

"Um, you good Rog?" You asked seeing him struggle slightly with the case. He said he could manage it. "He's good," you smiled. "But thank you, John. I appreciate it."

The other three were looking at the two of you with huge smiles on their faces before Brian noticed the time. "We should get to the studio." You sat in the back of the car, squeezed between Freddie and John while Brian was in the front and Roger drove. "Ever been to London before, Y/N?" Brian asked.

"No! First time," you smiled "I've wanted to come for a while but I just never had the chance. I've got a lot in mind that I'd like to see and do while I'm here, especially the museums and galleries!"

"The V&A is really good," John spoke up. Roger smiled to himself, his matchmaking plan was falling into place.

"Oh I've always wanted to go! Maybe tomorrow," you grinned. "Does that sound good, Rog?" He hummed, he knew you'd assume that he was going to go with you but Roger had every intention not to. He was going to make sure that you went with John and John only. When you eventually arrived at the studio, the boys began to set up and you walked around, taking in all the instruments.

"Do you play?" John asked, making you jump a little and press down on the piano keys you were tracing your fingers over.

You smiled and shook your head "No! No! Roger tried to teach me how to play drums once but I got no feel, I got no rhythm," you played a few keys and missed one "I just keep losing my beat." You sighed and pulled your hand back. "Thankfully I'm not a musician! I'm an art historian- that's why I really want to see the galleries and museums here. They have some of the best art in the world!" John softly smiled and placed his hands on the piano and played a few keys. He motioned his head for you to join in and follow what he was doing. You widely grinned, eventually getting the hang of a tune. John looked up to you while your eyes were still completely focused on the keys and he shyly grinned. He found it cute how intently you were glaring at the piano trying to get it right.

"Okay," Roger disturbed you both "How can he teach you piano in five minutes but it took me all through primary and high school to teach you drums?! And you still can't play!"

You burst out laughing and John felt his heart skip a beat at the sound. "Maybe you're just a rubbish teacher." You teased and Roger rolled his eyes, pulling John away from you and heading to rehearsals.

That evening you all had a takeaway after leaving the studios quite late, no one could be bothered cooking. You were all sitting at the dining table just making general conversation, you were trying to get to know the boys a little better. "So Y/N," Freddie spoke up with a devilish smirk on his face "Seeing anyone?"

You nervously laughed and John looked at you through his lashes. "Uh no...I'm not the luckiest when it comes to love," you admitted.

Brian let out a snort of laughter "You sound like John."

"Sounds like John," Freddie uttered at the same time.

The bassist sent the pair of them an unimpressed glare "Is there an echo in here?" He muttered with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"I think we all have somebody to love just waiting for us somewhere." You smiled at John and he felt his cheeks starting to heat up. "Although, Roger has been trying to help me for a long time with no luck whatsoever. I swear, next he's going to give me a megaphone or something and push me out in the middle of the street and make me scream: 'Can anybody find me somebody to love?' At the top of my lungs!" You giggled and he playfully nudged your arm. "Oh don't be like that...Roggie." The three boys gasped and went wide eyed, they widely smiled at the nickname. Roger glared at you and you could tell he was internally screaming. "Okay, I did tell you earlier that I brought presents so...excuse me!" You went and grabbed the bag of little bits and bobs you brought from Cornwall, mainly sweets and beer- one of Roger's favourites from the area.

"Do you miss the sea?" John quietly asked while the other three where rummaging through the bag. "Do you live near it?"

You nodded "I do, and a little. But I'm excited to be here and spend some time with Roger and the three of you!" You felt your smile getting wider noticing John gazing at you with a lopsided grin. You pulled yourself out of his entrancing gaze. "I think I'm going to head to bed, it's been a long day." Roger got up and showed you to his bedroom, he was happy enough to sleep on the sofa bed in the living room. John let his eyes linger on you a little longer before you disappeared into Roger's room.

•••

The next day you were up early, up well before any of the boys were. John let out a yawn while walking into the kitchen and stretching out his arms. He gasped noticing you and then suddenly realising what he was wearing- or the lack of what he was wearing. "Oh s-sorry!" He stammered and tried to cover as much as he could of the blue and green boxers his mum had bought him for Christmas. His cheeks were bright red.

You waved away his worries and tried not to stare at his legs that seemed to go on for miles. "No worries!" You stretched and yawned yourself, still feeling sleep hug your body. You let out a snort of laughter, noticing John yawning again after you had just stopped. "Each morning I get up I die a little, can barely stand on my feet!" You softly giggled and John grinned, feeling his nerves slowly melt away as he grew accustom to your presence- despite him being in boxer shorts. "Um...would you like some tea?" You asked and he hummed. "What do you take in it?"

"Just milk, no sugar." He replied and sat down by the table.

"Ahh sweet enough?" You asked with a teasing grin and John had to bite down on his lip to stop him from smiling so much. You placed the cup in front of him and headed to the living room to see Roger. John began to eavesdrop. "What do you mean you're not feeling well?" He could barely hear what Roger said. "Do you want me to stay here with you?" John's eyes looked up to the ceiling and then to the door as he tried to listen in more "Are you sure? Okay. I'll ask him. Take care, Rog. I'll bring you back something sweet to pick you up a little." John quickly averted his eyes to the tea and sipped away on it. You entered the kitchen sighing. "Well Rog isn't feeling too great...I was going to ask Freddie and Brian if they wanted to come to the museum but Roger said they're busy." John gently furrowed his brows- that was news to him. "You want to come with me?" You asked "I'd love the company."

You looked at John almost pleadingly and he could barely resist you. "Sure!" Your eyes lit up. "I'll get changed and we can grab the tube!" You clapped your hands together and got yourself organised. Less than an hour later you were on a packed tube practically crushing John. You apologised a dozen times but he just smiled. "It's alright- to be honest I think this is the quietest I've seen it!" He joked and you giggled, gasping when the tube jolted as it came to a sudden stop and you fell right into John completely. He placed a hand on your waist and the other on your arm to steady you. "You okay?" He asked in a worried voice. You were secretly relieved he was holding you up because you were certain that you melted a little at that tone.

You pulled back, swallowing hard "Y-yeah, sorry- again!" You nervously laughed but he said it was okay. You had never been around a person like John before, even only being in his presence for a few hours was like breathing in a breath of fresh air and feeling the sun hit your skin. He was different. A good different. "Is this our stop?" You asked and he nodded. You both jumped off the tube and it was a short walk to the museum. He paid, practically demanding that he insisted on doing so. In return, he asked if you would tell him some facts about the paintings and other pieces of art in the museum. You happily agreed to.

"Favourite artist?" He asked as you slowly wandered through the building, appreciating the time you were spending together.

You inhaled a sharp gasp of air "Oh John! Don't make me choose!" You laughed and he chortled. "I couldn't pick! I really couldn't." You passed by a painting and stopped. "Although I do like a lot of- funnily enough he has same name as you- John Constable's work, like this piece. He painted it in 1816 of his wife Maria."

You were looking at the painting but John was keeping his eyes on a more beautiful masterpiece. "You're really smart," you glanced up to him and bashfully smiled when you saw him looking at you. "The facts and information you have stored in your head is incredible! But maybe that's just because they say I got a lot of water in my brain...got no common sense." He let out a half laugh.

"I'm sure that's not true! But thank you! Roger finds it utterly boring so I'm glad you appreciate it!" You placed a hand on his arm and his heart beat just a little bit faster. You felt yours doing the same. "I really like your hair, it's very shiny. Mine is like a mop!" You mentally kicked yourself and cringed - was that the best you could do when you felt yourself getting nervous?

John chuckled and bobbed his head from side to side. "Thanks, I use one that smells like coconuts. My hair doesn't tangle or go frizzy with it. It's on the second shelf behind the mirror in the bathroom if you want to use some."

You blinked, smiling "Really? Thanks!"

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, his nose gently scrunched up and he had the tiniest smirk on his face. "How did we get onto talking about shampoo in the middle of a museum?" He laughed.

You bit down on your lip "I said I liked your hair..." John looked at you and flashed a smile. "Want to grab a tea while we're here?" You asked with a toothy grin, trying to recover from almost making a fool of yourself. "Just milk since you're sweet enough..." you teased again "Although I'm buying!" You warned and John agreed to your terms and you both headed to the cafe.

You loved being in John's company, the two of you naturally clicked. After walking around the museum for hours, you both headed home. When you arrived back, Brian was making dinner and Freddie was in the living room with Roger. John headed into his room to shed off his jacket and shoes. "Hey Y/N!" Brian warmly greeted you. "How was your date with, John?"

You intently furrowed your brows "W-what?" Your voice pitched a little. "It wasn't a date...?"

Brian had a wave of confusion plastered on his face. "Roger said-" he spotted the blonde haired drummer behind your shoulder, frantically waving his hands and shaking his head no. "-Nothing!" Brian corrected himself with a grin. "He said nothing. Must have got my wires crossed!" He forced a laugh and turned back to what he was making.

You looked over your shoulder and when you spotted Roger, you narrowed your eyes. "And just how are you?" You asked and moved closer to him, yanking his arm and dragging him into the hall. "Clearly well enough to try and set me up with your roommate!" You quietly confronted him. "You're so conniving, Taylor!"

Roger simply laughed "I'm not up to anything!" He feigned innocence "Anyway did you have a nice time?" He asked with a knowing grin and you shoved his arm. You had an amazing time. "Hey! Well in other news, we've been invited to a party at the end of next week! You're coming- no buts!" He warned, pointing a finger. You sighed, you didn't like parties and Roger knew this. He also knew John- who was also invited- didn't like parties either.

Stage three of his plan was on the horizon.

•••

"I hate parties," you grumbled standing next to Brian and John, but Brian could hardly hear you and he was mainly focusing on a girl he had his eye on.

"I'm not a huge fan on them either," John admitted and you glanced up to him. Over the past few days you had quickly become close to him- especially as he was the only one that accompanied you galleries and museums and also showed you around London in general. It was hard not to develop a little bit of a huge, uncontrollable crush on him. "You want to head home? I'm sure 'Are You Being Served' is on at eleven and if we leave now," he glanced at his watch and mentally tried to estimate how long it would take to walk back. "We'd make it with about fifteen minutes to spare if we took our time?"

"Sure! Beats being here," you laughed and snuck away with him. "Oh it's freezing!" You chattered feeling the cold air envelope your body. You were just wearing a top and jeans with a cardigan since Roger drove you there. You frantically rubbed together your hands, John offered you his jacket but you refused, he was only wearing a thin top himself. "It's fine, really!" You assured "It's just my hands that are freezing!" Without thinking, John reached for your hands and pulled you so you were standing in front of him, placing your hands into his jacket pockets. You giggled as you tried to grow used to walking backwards while being so close to him. When he realised that wasn't working, he unzipped his jacket and took your hands again, placing them on his waist under the protectiveness of the fuzzy lining to try and keep them warm. "Why am I the one walking backwards?!" You laughed trying to focus more on your footing because you knew if you focused on John and his twinkling eyes you'd fall.

"It's my jacket!" He chuckled. You spun around quickly so he was the one going backwards and you both kept doing it until you began crying with laughter and your legs tangled together and you both stumbled into the side of a building giggling away. John's laughter fizzed down in his throat when he realised what sort of position he had you in. His arm was resting just above your head, your legs were still intertwined and his face was inches from yours. He leaned forward ever so slightly and his lips ghosted over your own before he passionately crashed his mouth to yours. You moaned a little and your hands wrapped around his waist even tighter while the one that wasn't supporting him against the wall was tenderly stroking your jaw and neck.

He pulled back and you caught your breath a little. The smell of coconut mixed with his cologne was intoxicating. "W-wow..." you gasped and then let out a breathy laugh. John sheepishly bit down on his bottom lip and looked at you with half hooded eyes. Then the rain started but you were both too engrossed with looking at each other to move. John kissed you again, his hair sticking to his face and a little of it sticking to yours. You smiled and giggled feeling the heat of John's kiss and the coldness of the rain on your face- that just made John kiss you more. Eventually, when the rain became heavier you ran home- you'd already missed the start of 'Are You Being Served'. You both changed out of your soaking wet clothes and met each other again in the hallway. John placed a hand on your left cheek cheek and kissed your right one before making his way to your lips. "Can I be with you tonight?" You asked in a whisper and John pulled back, wondering what you meant. "I just...I just want to be next to you tonight. Talk. Laugh. Laugh 'til the tears run down from my eyes. Hold you. Be with you." You were almost begging.

John nodded with a smile and led you to his room where you both sat on his bed, eventually lying down with your legs intertwined, kissing again- just like you had been doing mere hours before and then eventually falling asleep.

The next morning John had woken up a few minutes before you, your head was resting on his arm and his forehead was pressed against yours. Your eyes fluttered open and you smiled, letting out a sleepy groan when you stretched ever so slightly. "Morning," he grinned and you gave him a gentle kiss. He wrapped his other arm tightly around your waist and pulled you even closer to him. "Y/N..." he trailed off and mentally tried to find the right words. "I know you're not here for long...but how would you feel about staying a little while longer?" He asked and you blinked a little. "I'll even give up my bed for you and sleep on the sofa bed! Anything to convince you to stay a while." He grinned. You opened your mouth to reply but John's bedroom door suddenly opened and he instantly pulled the duvet over you. "R-Roger! Morning!" He tried to act natural.

"Hey John, just seeing how you are this morning." He asked with the biggest smirk on his face. "Was about to pop the kettle on- would you like a tea?"

"Uh yeah, cheers mate." John hummed and Roger slowly began to shut the door before popping back in again.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll make you a cup too." You shut your eyes and let out a long sigh. John tossed a pillow at a giddily giggling Roger.

You peeped your head out from under the covers and looked at John who was gazing down at you with a sleepy grin. "I suppose staying for a little longer wouldn't hurt."

•••

A little longer turned into three years.

You and John started dating and you got a job as a curator at the V&A. London was your new home. Eventually you and John took a big leap in your relationship and bought a flat together...five minutes down the road from where the boys still stayed. They had been travelling for the past few months. John would always phone you and send postcards of the places they had been performing in while on tour. It was just another normal day and you were guiding a small group of people around the museum, describing the various pieces in a little bit of depth and answering any questions that anyone had.

"Who painted that piece?" Someone asked.

"This piece was painted by John Constable," you turned around to face the person who asked the question and you gasped slightly. You cleared your throat with a smile forming on your face. "A portrait of his wife, Maria, painted in 1816."

"We have the same name," John chucked and your heart was leaping in your chest at the sight of him. "You're really smart."

"Thank you," you tried to compose yourself and not let the tears of joy fall from your eyes. You felt a sense of déjà vu. "This way," you extended your arm and the group moved on while you lingered behind. John came up to you and gently squeezed your hand, quickly giving you a peck on your lips. "I thought you weren't going to be back until tomorrow!" You whispered with a squeal.

"Managed to convince the guys to get an earlier flight. I missed you." You smiled and then rushed forward a little to talk about the next piece of art. When you were finished for the day, John told you he had a surprise.

"What it is?" Your curiosity peaked.

John tapped his noise, conspicuously. "You'll see, just settle in the car, go for a little nap if you want to." He kissed your temple "It's a bit of a drive." You didn't question him anymore about it and sat back in the car seat, your eyes slowly shutting over as the persistent rocking put you to sleep. You were woke up by John who was gently nudging you. It was pitch black outside and very late. "Put this on," he smirked and handed you a blindfold. You raised a questionable brow. "It's a good surprise! Just put it on." You did as he asked and he helped you out of the car.

"Is...is that the sea?" You asked hearing the distinctive crashing of the water against the rocks. John had asked you quite frequently since you had arrived in London- even on the day you did- if you missed the sea. After being in the city for over a year, you told him you were starting to miss it. But if you left, you'd miss him even more. There was four oceans and seven seas in the world- there was only one John. "Where are we?"

"Stop asking questions!" John laughed as he guided you, holding your hands. "Okay stop. Don't take off the blindfold until I tell you." You stood still and tried to guess where you were. "Okay- take it off!" You slowly removed the piece of fabric from your eyes and furrowed a brow.

"A...house?" You asked, looking up at the building that you were currently standing in the garden of. There was fairy lights and candles all around the garden making it look magical. You turned around and gasped when you saw the shoreline behind John.

"Our house," he smiled and held the keys in front of your face. "In Cornwall. It's ours. After what I earned on the tour, I had enough to get a house for us here so you'd always be near the sea." A delighted sob left your lips and your hands cupped around your mouth.

"This...this is ours? This whole place?!" A tear slipped down your cheek. "Oh my god! It's amazing!" You chuckled "Lord, what you're doing to me!" You smiled as he handed you the keys and you engulfed him in a hug with tears flowing down your cheeks. He pulled back with a nervous look on his face and grabbed your hand that was holding the keys. He sifted through them a little and got down on one knee when he found what he was looking for. That's when you noticed something shining on the keychain in the low lights of the garden.

"Y/N," he said your name in a dreamy sigh and smiled "The first night we met you said that everybody has somebody to love...I've found my somebody. You." He swallowed hard. "Will you give me the honour of allowing me to marry my somebody? Will you marry me?"

"John, yes! Of course! Yes!" You smiled and he stood up with tears in his eyes, crashing his lips to yours and then pulling back to take the ring off the keychain and slip it on your finger. You both embraced each other in a tight hug.

Roger, Brian and Freddie were watching from inside the house with huge smiles on their faces. "You owe me twenty quid, Bri," Roger smirked. "Don't think I've forgotten about it just because we made the bet three years ago!" Brian rolled his eyes and dug out the money from his pocket. Roger had bet Brian that the two of you would end up together and in at least five years, get engaged. Brian didn't think that would happen- especially when he was caught asking you if you enjoyed your date with John and then told the guitarist you weren't on one with him.

But three years later, here you both were in your own little paradise near the sea- together and engaged. You cupped John's cheek and pressed your nose and forehead to his, your legs were intertwined and it began to rain. "For the rest of my life, I have my somebody to love."

———————–————

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[wildestdaydreamer]

Killer Queen Part 1: Lucy Boynton x Reader

This story was written for @fredthelegend  ‘s Writing Challenge. I suspect there will be one more part of the story, but there might be two. If you want tagged in the next part let me know!

It’s a Lucy Boynton x Female Reader story inspired loosely by the song Killer Queen. 

You met Lucy Boynton for the first time on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody.  You were working on the set as an errand girl. Bringing people coffee mostly. What was it with Hollywood and coffee? Why didn't anyone sleep? Maybe they didn't have time for that.

You have always been a fan of Queen and you were thrilled to be working on the set. Lucy was dressed up in a vintage dress and she looked like a supermodel straight out of the seventies.

"Hello! Miss Boyton?" you asked. "I have your latte."

"Thank you. Please call me Lucy," she said. "I believe this is the part where you say your name."

Suddenly it seemed hard to form words and even remember who you were. You had known plenty of pretty girls, but Lucy was something else entirely. She was not only drop-dead gorgeous but she had an aura about her. Even with Rami Malek here pretending to be Freddie Mercury she commanded the room. All eyes were on her, and she knew it.

Lucy sipped on her latte, giving you a look that you couldn't interpret. "What's your name?" she asked and you remembered that you had just been staring at her dumbly.

"I'm Y/N," you said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."

"You weren't rude, love," Lucy said. "Are you busy right now? I could use help with a few things. I could use an assistant."

You were supposed to report back to your supervisor after handing out the drinks, but as Lucy was last and you didn't want to pass up the opportunity, you risked your job and said "No, I'm not busy at all. What did you need help with?"

It turned out Lucy needed a great deal of help with a lot of things. You found yourself ironing her clothes, preparing her meals, and going shopping for her. Her latest request was to buy her some lingerie. Something "classy but sexy. Understated, but attention-grabbing. Maybe red."

You were about to confess you had no idea how to shop for lingerie when she gave you a knowing look. "It won't be that hard. I'll get you my measurements. Haven't you ever bought lingerie for yourself?" When you shook your head she said. "It's not all that different than buying bras."

You nodded your head not wanting to admit your underwear was basic and functional, not made to seduce. Everything was a whirlwind with Lucy. She had a hundred different things going on at once and she had latched onto you to take care of some of those responsibilities.

"I'll do my best," you said.

"Just pick something you would like if you were buying it for your girlfriend," Lucy said.

"What?" You asked surprised. You weren't hiding you liked women, but she seemed so assured in her words. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"Excellent," Lucy said. "I'll catch you tomorrow. I have a few things I need to take care of..."

What had that all been about? Maybe Lucy just liked making people feel uncomfortable. She was always polite, always friendly, and yet there was a demure sarcasm in her voice that set you off kilter.

Armed with Lucy's measurements you figure you'll ask someone who worked at the store to help you find something suitable.

Pick something you would like if you were buying it for your girlfriend.

That was crazy. You had had girlfriends before, but you didn't go out and buy them lingerie. The Lucys of the world seemed to live by different rules. What would it like to be that beautiful? To have everyone eating out of the palm of your hand? 

Even though you had tried to dress up, you still looked out of place in the lingerie store. Or maybe it was just in your head because you were uncomfortable.

"Hello," a saleswoman asked. She was wearing a corset top that left little to the imagination with shiny black leggings and heels. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Uh... yes," you said. "I'm looking for something for my boss..." She gave you a look. "I mean, I'm her assistant she hasn't the time to shop this week. She's working on a movie."

"Did she have anything in particular in mind?" the saleswoman asked.

You repeated exactly what Lucy had said. "Classy but sexy, understated but attention-grabbing, maybe red."

"Hmm... She didn't specify any material?"

"No." Dammit, you should have asked that. Was she supposed to get something lacy? Something leather? Something silk? "But I have her measurements."

"Let's see what we can find."

The next day, you had something picked out for Lucy. You couldn't help but imagine her in it. You wondered who she would be with. You were irrationally jealous. You were just her assistant. This was no different from bringing coffee or getting her laundry. You were a professional.

Except, you had gotten fired from your original job on set, and you had no idea if Lucy was actually going to pay you. You did all kinds of assistant duties, but you technically had never been hired. Somehow this didn't bother you as much as it should have. You wanted to be on a movie set. You wanted to be a part of the biopic. That was it. Right?

You stopped by her trailer, not only with your new lingerie purchase but with her favourite drink as well. There were about five different instructions you had to tell the barista in order to get a blend that would satisfy Lucy.

"Lucy, are you here?" you asked.

She answered the door and immediately took the coffee. You wondered how she never ruined her lipstick on the foamy drink. "Y/N. I'm actually really busy, I can't stay long. Did you bring me the lingerie."

"I did," you said, handing her the bag.

"I've got to bounce, I'll see you tomorrow," Lucy said, hurrying out of her trailer and away. You watched her leave, noticing the way she walked. You cursed yourself under your breath. Why would you ever be stupid enough to catch feelings for Lucy Boynton?

[thisthing-calledlove]

Death on Two Legs

Hi guys, this is a fic that I wrote for @fredthelegend‘s writing challenge... And YIKES I definitely put it off until the last minute. So I felt hella bad and pumped out this garbage. I’ll probably rewrite it and just overall... Fix it but it’s whatevs. 

Word count: 3.8k

Pairing: Brian x Reader

SMUT SORRY ITS ROUGHLY WRITTEN

- - - - - - - - - - - -

               Sunday afternoon: Blissful, lazy, quiet, and nonchalant. The midday sun shone brightly in the sky and cast a warm haze on everything it’s light touched. Cars drove by with love songs blaring and people walked along the street with sweet summer outfits, thankful for the pleasant day. You yourself wore a floral dress. Ah, if only you weren’t filled with complete rage.

               The beautiful mood that being outside provided the rest of the world was a stark contrast to your own. You slammed the passenger door to your car closed, gripping an empty bag beneath your arm. You whipped your head around to face the flat that had become your second home. Normally standing in front of the flat gave you a sense of calm and homeliness, but you knew that feeling was long gone and would probably never return.

               The pulling of curtains drew your attention to the window, to which you rolled your eyes at. Adjusting your bag, you made your way to the door. Before you could make it up the last step, the door swung open and you were met face to face with your (now ex) boyfriend.

               Brian’s voice was normally light and scholarly, but today, it was full of something else… Incredulousness. “What are you doing here, Y/N?” It truly didn’t sound like a question, rather a statement of disbelief. His expression was clearly angry, but in the final months of your relationship, you’d grown quite accustomed to the angry looks.

               “I’m coming to get some of my stuff,” You answered him as you settled on the final step. “Because God forbid you collect it all for me and make it easier.” Your own voice was full of hostility and matched his.  

               “I haven’t got any of your things,” Brian scowled, not allowing you to step toward the door.

               “Let me in, Brian.” You took a step forward, but he didn’t budge.

               “Bri, just let her get her shit and she’ll be outta your hair,” You heard Roger’s voice from behind the door. You could only imagine that they were in on it. None of them held you with as much hate as Brian had for you, but they weren’t exactly pleased. No one knew the true reason for your breakup. The truth behind it was that it was no one’s fault entirely… The blame could be split equally. Neither you nor Brian would accept the fact that any of the blame fell on your own shoulders, and you couldn’t imagine that you’d ever do so. This led to the current situation: Pure hatred toward one another.

               Brian glared for a moment longer before letting go of the door and turning back into the flat. You rolled your eyes and stepped in, pushing the door open for yourself and then closed behind her.

               “Hello, Y/N, it’s great to—” Freddie’s light voice interrupted the silence as you stepped in, only to be shut down by Brian.

               “No chit-chat. Get your things and get out.” Brian demanded, extending a long arm and finger toward the hall that Brian’s room was located down.

               You flashed Brian a forced smile and stepped past him. You promised yourself that you’d give Freddie a call later and tell him that you were sorry for your and Brian’s behavior.

               As you walked down the hallway toward Brian’s room, you heard steps behind you. The light tapping was unmistakably Brian’s. You didn’t look back at him as you spoke, reaching for the door handle. “You gonna breathe down by neck while I do this, too?”

               “Yes, actually,” He fired back, “Make sure nothing that belongs to me mysteriously goes missing… Again.”

               “I never stole from you or the band, Brian.” You hissed, stepping into the bedroom.

               Your heart jumped in your chest as your eyes focused on the bedroom. Everything was just as you’d remembered it. The bed, just long enough for Brian’s long legs to lay in comfortably. His desk, organized chaos of papers and books. The door to his closet closed, as always. Other small embellishments littered the room, and it all seemed so Brian. You fought back the urge to sink onto the bed and close your eyes one more time as you had done many times in the past.

                You made a beeline for the closet, knowing that several outfits of yours found be found within. You slid open the door and began to rifle through. Brian stood behind you, watching your every move. You turned your head back and glared at him. “Will you get off my back for one minute, please? Christ.” You prayed that the bag under your arm would hold enough so that you wouldn’t have to come back. The tension in this situation was enough to leave anyone gasping for a breath of fresh air.

               Brian took a single step backward and folded his arms across his chest, scowling at you. You got down onto a knee, shoving a pair of shoes into your bag. Brian merely watched in silence for a while.

               “I’ll come to yours after this,” He grumbled, “Unless you’ve already burnt it all.”

               “I’ve actually got a date this evening,” You said, turning around on your knee to look up at him. You hoped that your words hurt, a twisted feeling of pettiness filling you to the brim.

               “So you’ve found a new toy to replace me, have you?” Brian’s nostrils flared and his hands turned into fists. He tried his best not to let his anger out, but you knew. You could always tell.

               You said nothing as you stood, adjusting the strap of the bag on your shoulder, now filled with various articles of clothing. You just glared at him as he stared at you bitterly.

               “How can you even look at me like that?” He snapped, breaking your intense stare-down.

               “Don’t pretend this was all me. This isn’t my fault.” You growled at him, clenching your jaw. “Why can’t you just accept that it was you?” You shove past him as you threaten, heading toward the desk. You rip open a drawer and it squeaks harshly. It isn’t long before Brian grabs ahold of your wrist, gripping just tight enough to keep you from moving it.

               “None of your things are in there.” He hisses through his teeth, standing behind you. His voice is low and directly into your ear. You feel his long hair fall against your shoulder as he stood behind you, making sure you wouldn’t push past him. He had always hated when you moved him out of the way or when you treated him as nothing but something to step around. His breath is hot and you jerk your head away from it, trying to get the furthest distance away from his face as you can.

               You reach with your other hand into the now open drawer, pulling out a pair of sunglasses that you hold in front of you so he can see. He releases your wrist and scoffs. “Those are mine.”

               “Not anymore they’re not. I bought them.” You shove them into your bag and adjust it’s contents. “You don’t even deserve the other things I’ve bought you—” You turn around and are stopped mid-sentence to Brian still standing close to you. You look up into his dark eyes and see the hate shine in them, to which your own mimic.

               “Fuck off,” He says, his voice low and dangerous. You’ve only heard him say that jokingly, and it had never been said to you. You feel the hair on the back of your neck rise in anger and blood rushes to your face.

               “I’m trying, but you insist on staying so far up my arse that I can barely take two steps without tripping over you.” You grip the strap on your bag tightly, causing your knuckles to go white.

               “You’re lucky I let your pitiful ass back in here after what you did, Y/N.”

               You can’t help your jaw as it clenches tightly. Through your teeth, you fire back, “After what I did?” You force a false laugh. “You don’t even know the half of it, Brian. What I did was your fault.”

               He inches his face toward you, his dark eyes burning into your flesh. “You fucking a classmate is my fault then, Y/N?” You could feel the betrayal he must have felt. His words were strained and short.

               “Perhaps we’d have worked out if you’d not been so quick to trust people you don’t know. I didn’t fuck him then, he lied.” You restrained yourself from shouting. “But you’re right. I did fuck him after I came home to you in bed with some slut after the concert at the Rainbow,” Your words were reeling, “Didn’t you have to cancel the rest of the trip because of her? Wasn’t it.. Oh, that’s right. Hepatitis.” You knew it wasn’t sexually transmitted, but you both know it could have been.

               Brian was quick to counter you.  You could tell you had definitely pissed him off. “You know that wasn’t sexually transmitted, Y/N.” He spat, “You of all people should know plenty about what’s sexually transmitted and what’s not.”

               “What are you trying to say, Brian?” You shouted, now fully in his face. The rage in your head had bubbled over. Thank goodness the door was shut, or else the rest of the bandmates would have heard the conversation. They were the very last thing on your mind in this moment.

               “I’m saying you’re a slut, Y/N! Easy! King of the sleaze!” Brian never spoke like this. He wouldn’t normally have ever dared spoken to a woman in this way. His angled features were twisted into an expression of rage. His teeth were bared and his eyes narrowed at the corners. His normal calm and light demeanor had been replaced with something much more primal.

               “If I’m so fucking easy,” You scathed, “Then prove it.” You clenched your fists and stood your ground, ready to fight need be.

               “You asked for it.” He growled, his hands flying forward and gripping either side of your head. He crushed his lips against yours. There was something different about this kiss. You’d kissed him a hundred times before, but this one was much more animalistic and harsher than anything you’d felt before. You kept your eyes open wide as he pushed his tongue past your lips. The bag on your shoulder slid to the ground with a thud. Brian’s hands slid down and pushed their way past your arms, grabbing ahold of your hips and guiding you back toward the desk. You halted as the desk hit your lower back rather roughly from Brian’s shoving. All of this happened in a matter of seconds.

               Now with Brian’s hands off your head, you knew you were free to pull away from his kiss, but you found yourself pushing back into his kiss just as harshly. His long fingers pressed deeply into the skin of your waist, the pressure enough to cause a bruise if held for long enough. Although your anger had not at all dissipated, you found it somewhat added to by a new feeling: Lust.

               You’d never had hate sex with anyone, and you’d never imagined that it’d be Brian who your first time would be with. Brian pulled away his lips, going down to place them at your ear. He growled and leaned forward, pressing his body against yours, pinning your lower half to the desk. You could feel his cock through his black slacks pressing against your thigh, hardening quickly.

               “I’ll screw your brain til it hurts,” He hissed, bringing his mouth close to your ear, threatening. You pushed his mouth away with your head, shouldering him away. Your mouth was met with another kiss. One of your hands shifted up to grab Brian’s hair, holding him close. You didn’t even notice Brian’s fingers slip under your dress until he was pulling down at the hem of your panties.

               “Look how easy this was,” He snapped, continuing between rough kisses. “And watch how easy this is,” He pulled up and pushed the contents on his desk to the floor. Papers fluttered through the air as he hoisted you up, your legs going apart. Your dress hiked up to your thighs and Brian gripped the exposed flesh tightly. Again, your lips came together and this time you arched yourself toward him, reaching your hands to pluck at the buttons of his shirt feverishly.

               Soon, Brian’s button-down shirt was open and you pulled it down his shoulders.

“Take it off,” You demanded between battling kisses. He made no movement to do so and gripped your thighs harder, his knuckles going white and your skin beneath his fingers flushing red. “I said fucking take it off!” You grabbed his wrist and shoved toward his chest, trying to elicit a response. He pulled away from you and wiped his mouth of your combined saliva, reaching for his shirt. Instead of removing it, however, he began to button it.

               “You’re not telling me how to do this, Y/N.” He looked at you with raised eyebrows, stepping forward again. He leaned his head forward so his eyes looked directly into yours. He cocked his head, as if scolding a young child. “This is my goddamn bedroom, not yours.”

               Suddenly, you felt Brian’s long fingers touch your thigh. They wasted no time reaching further inward, stroking you over your panties. He brought his face centimeters away from yours. One of his hands came up to grip your chin in a long-fingered grasp.  “I told you that you were easy,” He said, almost matter-of-factly. One finger pulled at the edge of your panties and pushed them aside. The entire time he spoke and felt around, his eyes were deadlocked on yours. His finger dipped between your folds and you felt just how easily it glided. “Already so fucking wet,” Brian’s eyes narrowed and the anger returned. The feeling of his finger sliding against you was enough to have you arching into him again, your body begging for another taste of his touch. He pulled his finger away and brought it up as if to show you. “Open your mouth.”

               You obeyed, allowing your lips to fall open. Instead of looking at him with bedroom eyes, you merely glared. He stuck his finger one knuckle deep into your mouth before you bit down. You didn’t bite down hard enough to hurt him, but enough for him to know that what he’d requested had been a stupid idea. He cursed at the realization and you smirked, holding his digit between your teeth.

               He ripped his finger from your mouth and continued with the curses. Your triumph was short lived, however, as he grabbed your hips again and pulled you to the very edge of the desk. He pulled at your panties until they were fully aside and then he reached for his zipper, pulling his cock free from his trousers and underwear. It arched toward the ceiling, already rock hard. The tip was already beaded with precum and you could only imagine what would come next.

               You realized in that moment that in the few times you and Brian had had sex, it had always been gentle and loving. He’d never been rough and always made sure you were comfortable. By the look in his eyes, you were sure that this time would be no pleasure cruise.

               You looked down, but only for a moment because Brian gripped your chin and forced you to look into his eyes. Again, they were full of animal like rage. You felt the tip of his cock press at your lower lips, spreading them easily to gain access. Almost automatically, the tip found its way to your hole and pressed in. The head sunk into you easily, your slick providing the perfect lubrication. You bit your lips, glaring at him, determined to not make any noise of pleasure.

               “Think you’re gonna break me, Brian?” You glared at him, trying to focus on anything but the cock between your legs. “Let me just say, you’ll never fuck as good as---”

               You were cut short as Brian’s hands grabbed your waist and he thrust into you without warning. Your mouth fell wide open as his length drove into your core. You felt your body try to compensate, but before it could adjust he had pulled out again. You felt empty in its absence.

               “Say it again, I fucking dare you.” Brian gave you a look as if to challenge you, lifting his chin in victory.

               You shifted on the desk for a moment and took a breath to repeat your sentence, but before you were able to speak, Brian took the hint. He shoved himself into you again, filling you to the brim. You reached up and grabbed his curls roughly between your fingers.

               “Give it your---” You gasped and he again thrust into you, “G-Give it your best shot.”

               Brian merely grunted in response. With an ironclad grip on your hips, he pounded into you. The back of his desk repeatedly bounced off the wall, causing quite the tremor through the flat. You didn’t care, though. The only thing you cared about was fucking your ex-boyfriend.

               “Oh, look how easy this was,” he repeated, shoving in and out of you. “King of the sleaze. I bet you’d let any man fuck you.” You could feel the combined wetness of the two of you dripping down onto the desk. “You’re such a.. Mh, a slut.”

               The repeated pounding was enough to ignite a fire inside you and you could feel your climax build. You suppressed it, not daring to give the satisfaction of your orgasm to Brian. He couldn’t win this one. If you came first, you merely proved his point. You knew you’d have to hold out.

               Brian’s mind was in the same place. He did his best to fight his growing climax, wanting to see you completely unravel beneath him. “Are you going to cum for me?” He asked, one of his hands sliding down to your bellybutton. He pressed flat against it, forcing you to lay back slightly on the desk. He then slid the and to lift one of your legs, giving him a better angle.

               He knew exactly the angle to look for. As soon as he had shifted you into the newer position, you felt as the tip of his cock rammed you in precisely the right spot. You felt goosebumps rise and your mouth again fell open. You snapped it shut and clenched your teeth, determined to withstand his perfectly angled thrusts. You wanted nothing more than to prove he was an amateur who couldn’t please you.

               Brian’s eyes traced your body. You clenched around him in pleasure and he could tell by the reaction that he had settled on your sweet spot. With each thrust, a jolt of pleasure swelled through your lower half, and judging by the smirk on Brian’s face, he could tell.

               “So soon?” He said, growling down at you. “Ah.. You’re easier than I thought.” His voice faltered at his last sentence and you felt his cock begin to twitch inside you. This meant he, too, was close to orgasm.

               Knowing that he might lose, Brian’s free hand went down to find your clit. He wasted no time thumbing at the sensitive nub, to which you finally allowed moans of pleasure to escape your lips. Until that point you had been able to hold back your arousal, but Brian’s quick fingers were enough to send your mind reeling. You felt as the fire began to spread from your core, and you knew it was almost too late.

               As orgasm washed over you, you felt every inch of your body alight with white hot pleasure. Your eyes rolled back and you gripped at the edges of the desk, your pussy clenching hard onto Brian’s cock. What you didn’t realize was that Brian’s thrusting had come to a complete halt. Your clenching had been enough to push him over the edge. He had emptied himself inside you and was now hunched over you.

               Sweat dotted his forehead as he panted heavily, trying to catch his breath. As he pulled out of you, you clenched again, overstimulated. Your mouth remained open as you, too, tried to catch your breath. Everything came crashing down on you in that moment and the only thing you wanted was away from him.

               Brian reached to adjust your panties and fix your dress. Before he could touch you, you swatted his hand away and pushed yourself into a sitting position. You fixed your clothes yourself and refused to look at him. He also kept his eyes adverted after you pushed away his help. He, too, fixed his trousers.

               After a moment of awkward silence, you pushed yourself to your feet. You wobbled slightly and again Brian reached out to steady you, but you swatted his hand away for the second time. If he touched you one more time, you thought you might scream. The realization of what he had just tried to prove to you hit.

               “Y/N, I didn’t mean to call you a slu—”

               “Fuck you,” You said, reaching down to grab your bag that had fallen to the floor. You could feel Brian leaking out from between your legs.

               “You can bring the rest of me stuff to me when I’m not home.” Your voice was flat, as if nothing had just happened. You and a hand through your now messy hair and straightened yourself up.

               “Y/N, you know I still love you,” Brian’s harsh, angry voice had been replaced with an apologetic one.

               “Save it, Brian.” You walked toward the door, feeling the anger of what you had just done bubble up again. You reached for the door handle. “We are done.” You swung the door wide open and began to walk toward the front door. Brian’s bandmates all sat around, paying very close attention to various miscellaneous objects as not to reveal that they had heard the whole thing.

               Brian followed you out, his soft mood having been ruined. Heartbreak filled him again, and he covered it with anger. “Are you really going to do this?”

               You opened the front door and began to walk out, adjusting your bag. You ignored his question and walked down the steps, reaching for your keys. “Write a song about it, Brian, I’m sure it’ll be a big hit,” You lied, making fun of his pleading. You both knew that your relationship was beyond the point of salvation.

               Brian stood at the top of the steps and gripped his hands into tight fists. “You know what, Y/N? Maybe I will write a bloody song about it.”

               You threw your bag into the back seat and situated yourself in the driver’s seat, starting the car. As you pulled out, you didn’t look back. Brian stood on the steps, glaring at you until you were out of view. He watched that spot for a while before uttering to himself.

               “Y/N… You’re death on two legs.”

[dancing-deacon]

Drowse (Part 2)

(A/N) thank you for all the feedback from part 1! I honestly was so overwhelmed by the response🤗💕So much I decided to make a part 2 because I felt bad leaving it on such a negative note haha, sorry it took so dang long I’ve been super busy, enjoy the second part!!

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, negative parental comments(?)

Part 1

My Masterlist

“It’s the bleak street, weak kneed partings I recall.”

A mist of tears blinded Roger. He stumbled back from the slammed door, the sound echoing through his head. Tripping backwards off your front step he grabbed the railing for support.

You had ripped his heart from his chest and tore it to shreds on your stoop. The same stoop you used to laugh on, joking about your classmates. The same railing he had broken when falling against, after you had playfully pushed him for teasing you about your first kiss. The same step he just confessed his love to you on.

Roger broke out into a deep wail, tears flooding down his cheeks onto his fur collared jacket, matting it. Roger stumbled back to his house, memory guiding him to his own door, his eyes too puffy to see out of. He had never felt this kind of heartbreak before.

Roger knew he loved you from the moment he laid eyes on you. Those feelings only intensified over the years. The dozens of songs he wrote for you throughout his teenage years that you’d never hear. How many times he had come close to telling you his true feelings, the final time being when you kissed in the river, but your reaction told him your feelings were otherwise. Now he knew for sure. He never should have told you. It ruined any small thread of hope of you being best friends again. He should have pushed the feelings down as he had done a thousand times watching you with other boys, when you gave anyone else the looks you gave only him, or when he left. Roger lost you, his best friend, and he could never forgive himself.

Millions of thoughts of your words ran threw his mind as he crashed into his room. Whipping the door shut behind him he stripped off his jacket, chucking it against the opposite wall with all his force, knocking down the picture of you and him from his desk. The picture frame shattered on the ground.

Roger paused and stared at the glass with blurry eyes, your face peaking out from the spiderwebbed cracks. Gasping for air he clenched his jaw, unable to feel the pain in his teeth, for his face had gone numb from being in hysterics.

Roger collapsed onto his bed, face into a pillow, trying to get his breathing back to a steady pace.

When unexpectedly, there was an all too familiar tapping on his glass window. 

 “Waves of alternatives wash over my sleepiness

Have my eggs poached for breakfast I guess.”

 “Rog, stop!” You demanded, annoyed by his grapes he keeps flicking onto your plate. Roger’s toothy smile beams at you, all you can do is roll your eyes, kicking his leg under the table where the parents can’t see.

Roger took one last red grape in his fingers, rolling it, eyebrows raised up at you across the table. You knew what he wanted so you nod your head in compliance. You opened your mouth wide, leaning back slightly. Roger tossed the grape at you like it was a show, you caught it and chomped down on its sweetness.

You had a lot of time to perfect this stunt, increasingly more satisfying as time went on. Every Sunday your families met together for brunch at your house, a tradition since they moved in four years ago.

You and Roger felt intense boredom at the brunches, but as you grew older your glances and inside jokes became more and more discrete, allowing full conversations to be held with only a few words. Most of the time was to express your distaste for the conversations your parents held, because they always went the same: Mr. Taylor ranting about politics. You mother sharing cooking tips and new recipes for the food with Mrs. Taylor. Your father secretly reading the paper under the table.

Roger and you had competitions to see who could make the more ridiculous face, waiting for the dreaded questions of, “(Y/N), how was school this week? Learn anything interesting?” Which you always answered with “Not really.” While shuffling food around on your plate.

It wasn’t until recently though had both your parents started paying more attention to you and Roger’s interactions. The shared looks, the light-hearted giggles that they never heard otherwise from Rog, how you were always hanging off each other physically. How you spent every waking minute together, you comforted each other in the darkest times.

It was this brunch that you first heard the comment, which you didn’t know would be so prominent from everyone throughout your lives.

“You two are so cute, I can hear the wedding bells already.” His mother was the first to tease.

Roger looked absolutely disgusted, you two sharing the face. “Ew, she’s my best friend that’s gross.” He exaggerated a shutter to express his feelings.

At that time, you felt the same.

As you grew, the comments stood in the back of your mind. Posing together for pictures before dances, “What a cute couple!” Your mother cooed.

“One day, (Y/N), he’ll be on his knees with a ring just you wait!” His mother chimed in.

Roger and you shared a glance, both rolling your eyes and blushing lightly. You were so used to it, so you both tried to ignore them. But growing feelings for Roger made the passing comments hit deep. You just hadn’t known that they hit Roger the same way.

 “Watching the night life the lights and the fun”

 Roger squeezed out between the bricks, in the shape of a slivered window, navigating the beer bottles through, placing them on the ledge with a clink.

He turned back peeking through the shadows, the street lights below illuminating his jawline.

“Here, take my hand.” He extended his arm back towards you, but you were hesitant. Heights were never your favorite, even from the ground looking up at the bell tower of the cathedral made your insides sick. Roger knew this too. “Trust me.” He raised his eyebrows at you, shaking his hand again to urge you to grab it.

And you did.

“That’s my girl.” Roger whispered, proud of your progress against your fear.

Your sweaty palms only made Roger grasp you harder. You squeeze out the same opening, the late-night breeze hitting your nose, refreshing from the stuffiness inside the tower.

Roger searched for your eyes, mentally urging you to keep yours in contact with his. You looked to match his breathing. Roger placed his other hand on the small of your back, which brought your heart rate up again.

“Do you want to look?” He stood at the edge of the ledge, the barrier bricks from him and an ill fate only went up to the middle of his calf.

You swallowed and shook your head vigorously, scooting back toward the wall. You slide down onto your butt, feeling better to just see the clear autumn sky, rather than the roof tops and orange street lights below.

The ledge is just large enough for two to sit down on, Roger hung his long legs up and over the brick edge. You had your legs curled to your chest, for the thought of any part of you hanging over the edge makes your stomach turn.

Roger hadn’t let go of your hand yet, he rubbed your thumb with his. His skin was soothing, his intensions sweet.

Roger released your hand and reached for a beer. He grunted and popped it open on the corner of the ledge, the cap falling to the ground below. The light tink of it hitting the cobblestone street made you shake your head.

“Really, Rog? On the chapel?” You smiled large at his exaggerated eye roll. He handed you the first bottle, cracking open another one in the same fashion.

“Hey, I suffered through six years at this place I deserve a beer…on them.” He cheered you and took a swig. “Even though I bought them.” He gave a puzzled look at his own dumb joke.

“As long as we don’t get caught that’s all I care about.” You admitted taking a large gulp, hoping the alcohol will sooth what remaining nerves you had about being in the tower.

“Nah, never have. But if we do, we can be cell mates.” He shoved his shoulder into yours causing you to spill some beer on your pants.

“Mhm, sure, Taylor.” You leaned you head on his shoulder, finally finding comfort in where you were and who you were with.

Roger turned his face down and kissed the top of your head lightly before resting his head on yours.

Your face grew warm, remembering a month ago in the river. You both returned to normal the next morning, he drove you to school, sat with you at lunch, and did homework with you after class. No mention of the kiss. Though, you could feel the linger of it still, in conversation he would glance down at your lips, subtly licking his own in response. Your chest would feel heavy at the reminder, the uncertainty of how you both felt, or if you even knew yourself.

Those lingering feelings never left, even when he did.

Subconsciously, you knew that was the reason his communication, or lack thereof, stung so bad. Your love for Roger was more than just being his best friend, it was so much more. It just took you both so damn long to realize, that it was too late. When you lost contact, your heart broke, it broke for the skinny blonde boy next door, as his broke for you, his best girl. Each other’s first true love.

 “The unending pleadings

To waste all your good times

In your thoughts of your middle-aged years”

Roger being called to the headmaster’s office a month before graduating was the beginning of the end.

He hadn’t driven you home that day because he was tied up, but you watched his mother and father quickly rush into the school, anger on their faces.

Your walk home was filled with worry for Roger. You had sat on your bed, window opened waiting for any signs from your neighbors arriving back home, letting in the brisk spring breeze.

You almost dozed off against the wall when you’re jolted awake from yelling.

“Roger, stop. We are not done talking about this!” His father’s voice boomed across the driveway.

“Piss off!” Roger yelled back, immediately followed by the slam of the front door.

You peaked out your window, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor standing on the driveway, yelling in hushed voices. Words like disappointing, university, and stupid band, pierced your ears.

Through Roger’s window, his face was red, and he was pacing back and forth across his bedroom, fists clenched, noticeably mumbling to himself.

Crawling from your window you snuck across the grass, hoping to avoid his parents gaze. Whatever was wrong, you knew it was bad enough that they wouldn’t want him to spend time with anyone.

As you got to the window, about to knock, he whips his notebook towards the glass. Papers flying out everywhere, startling you.

“Oh, Roger,” you whispered to yourself. You’ve never seen him so frustrated.

Roger glances his head towards where he threw his papers, seeing your concerned eyes staring at him his face drops. Frustration gone. He rushed to the window, slamming it open and practically dragged you inside. You barely got your footing when he engulfed you in his arms, squeezing you tight. His face was nuzzled in the crook on your neck, breathing heavily, taking in your scent to try to calm down.

“Roger, what happened?” You whispered in his ear, not letting you be the first to pull away. Your hand moved through his hair, gently rubbing his head.

Roger pulled away, flopping back onto his bed, grabbing a pair of drumsticks from his bedside table. He twirled them between his fingers slowly, grunting before speaking.

“My grades. I might not graduate.” You can tell he is embarrassed. You scooted onto his bed next to him

Trying to make light of the situation you gently punch his arm, “I mean, you are squinting at the board all the time,” Roger rolled his eyes. “Maybe wear your glasses, so you can actually see what we are learning.”

Roger turned his head to look at you, turning the drumstick in his hand even quicker. His nervous habit. “Glasses aren’t exactly rock-and-roll.” He paused, “You’re right though, as always.” He stretched those last words, he didn’t mind that you were right all the time. You steered him the best way.

He stopped spinning his sticks, staring at them intensely. “But, that’s not the problem. My parents think I’m too involved with music.” He chucked the sticks across his room, bouncing off the opposite wall and clattering on the hardwood floor. You jumped back into yourself by his actions, absolutely hating when he got violently angry. Once he got into hysterics it was hard to calm him. “It’s bullshit.”

“You won’t go anywhere with music, Roger.”

“Be a bloody dentist, Roger.”

Roger, you’re wasting your time.”

He mocked his parents, school teachers, and headmasters’ words. Spitting them out, jaw clenching so hard you could feel the pain in your own.

You had to choose your next words carefully.

“Roger, you can always do both, you’re incredibly talented and smart.” Roger turn his body on its side to face you, a sweet smile growing. “But…you do need to work harder to pass. Trust me, it will make everything easier.”

Wanting to take your words to heart Roger just nods his head, “Alright.” Is all he stated, hushed. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, his head against your stomach. You put your arm around his shoulders and stroked his arm. As his best girl, you wanted to let him know you weren’t going anywhere, and you’d help everything get better.

  “It’s the vertical hold all the things that you’re told”

“Roger, you’re completely off beat, it’s sounding like shit.” Brian threw his arms off his guitar, letting it wobble around as he faced Roger, who was shaking his head angrily.

Roger tosses his sticks over his shoulder, leaning over and resting his hands in his head, rubbing his temples. “Fucking hell. We’ve got to stop, I can’t do any more today.” Normally Roger would’ve chewed Brian’s head off for his comments, but Roger knew he was off today. He knew that in less than a day he would be back at home, facing you again in after so many years.

“Is it because you’re going home, and (Y/N)?” Deaky put his bass in its case, accepting that practice was over.

Roger rolled his head back, grunting at the mere mention of your name.

Freddie, Brian, and John shared a look, simultaneously pulling up chairs into a semicircle in front of his drum set, ready for Roger’s impending rant.

“You love her, don’t you?” Freddie asked, a smug grin on his face.

“It’s bloody obvious he does, look at him.” John laughed at Roger who was pacing back and forth behind his drum set, kicking the sticks across the floor with each step.

“Roger! Stop. Talk to us.” Brian’s words make Roger stop dead in his tracks, turning towards his bandmates.

“I’ve never loved anyone more,” Roger’s face turned soft, remembering all your beautiful features, even after so many years. “But I haven’t called her in years, so.” Roger rubbed his neck, avoiding eye contact with the boys.

The bandmates all lean forward in their chairs.

“What? You never told us that bit,” Brian’s voice was soft, but full of surprise. Roger mentioned you and your adventures constantly, but he failed to mention your lack of communication as time went on.

“But you talk about her all the time Roger, why haven’t you talked to her?” John’s voice pleaded for an answer, Freddie stayed quiet, in awe of Roger’s own stupidity.

“Everyone at home, and I mean everyone wanted me to go to university, become a dentist, let go of music…except her. Without her, I wouldn’t be in Queen.” Roger leaned against the back of the chair that faced the band. “When I left home, my life changed so fast. And this dream I had all my life, finally came true. I’m the musician I’ve always wanted to be.” Roger’s looked to the ceiling, trying to hide away the forming tears from the band.

“With that, I guess I pushed away what I used to be, and everyone who told me I couldn’t achieve this. She happened to go with it.” After all this time, Roger couldn’t believe the words he was admitting out loud for the first time. “But I miss who I was, and (Y/N), every fucking day. The innocence I felt with her. The youth of her spirit. I’ve only ever been fully myself around her.” Roger finally let tears fall from his eyes, slowly dripping down his cheek.

His eyes panned over his bandmates, a sympathetic look on each of their faces. “So yeah, I love her more than anything…and I’m going to tell her.”

 “Thinkin’ it right and doin’ it wrong”

You heard it all through your open bedroom window. Roger’s wail was haunting. The sounds his voice made was the most chilling, horrible song he has ever produced. It was a song you’d never hope to hear again. That’s when you knew you truly made the biggest mistake of your life.

You watched the boy next door slam his bedroom door and flop onto his bed facedown, just as he did so many times as a child through to his teenage years.

Your heart raced, palms growing sweaty of the reminder of your rejection. As soon as you closed the door you regretted every word of it. The initial shock of seeing Roger back in front of you again, now someone famous, who you thought had changed so much, made you spit out years’ worth of pent up anger. But deep down, you knew your true feelings, you adored Roger.

More than adored.

You were in love with Roger Meddows Taylor. The boy whose name was more mesmerizing to you than any of his songs he has written, or ever could write. There would be no comparison.

You found your legs carrying you out your open window, bare feet tickled by the dewy grass. Your mind numb of all thoughts, except for those of the neighbor boy.

Standing at his window, you see the picture frame on his floor, shattered. All you could hope is it not to be a sign for what is to come.

All you heard is your blood pumping through your ears, letting your knuckles up to the glass to perform its signature tapping.

Roger’s head shot up immediately. His blonde locks thrown every which way, cheeks puffy and raw, eyes bloodshot. The moment your eyes met he drew his away.

You placed your palm against the window, wanting to comfort him and make everything right again.

Roger pursed his lips and shaking his head angrily he stood up, moving to slam the window open.

His eyes were glazed, locked onto the floor. But his instincts let out his hand, as he had done hundreds of times before, and grabbed yours, guiding you through and into his room.

“If you’re here to hurt me more, I don’t want to fucking hear it.” He whispered his words. You broke him. You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself for that.

“Roger, I didn’t mean it.” You paused, looking to meet his eyes and he raised them. “Well, I did, those feeling were real, when you left, but not anymore. I can’t lose you.” You took a step closer to him, sliding your fingers back between his. “I have to be completely honest with you.”

Roger raised his eyebrows in question, preparing for more heartbreak. You took a deep breathe in, knowing your voice is going to shake just by your thoughts. “Roger Taylor, I’ve loved you since I fell off the tree at our spot and broke my ankle when we were ten, and you carried me home. That love grew during the first slow dance to the Beatles when we were fourteen and you held me so tightly, I was so damn nervous, you have no idea. Or when I finally beat you at pool, that smile you gave me, I could never ever forget it.” You reached your hand up and cupped his cheek, red and raw from the tears he previously shed for you. Stroking the skin gently with your thumb you continued, never breaking your eyes from his, blue as the ocean, the whites still tinted red.

“Roger, I knew my feelings were real when we skinny dipped, and you and I shared the most passionate kiss I’ve ever had, and ever hope to have.” A tear fell from your eye, wishing you had acted on your feelings sooner. Roger brought his hand up, wiping it away with the back of his pointer finger. His other hand formed around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m pretty sure I loved you since you asked to see more of my cars.” He gave a small laugh, glancing down at your lips and licking his own. “I just knew you were the one since the very first day.”

Roger pulled you in, crushing his lips against yours. Your hands gripped his hair, your lips aching for this moment since the river. Everything was familiar, the softness of his lips guided you, cared for you as no one else had.

Roger was who you were meant to be with.

Roger felt like home.

Roger parted his lips away, resting his forehead against yours, his hands cupped your burning cheeks. Roger’s smile was unlike you’ve ever seen before: sweet, satisfied, fully head over heels in love. “I’m sorry that after sixteen years of being right next door, it took me this long to get to you.”

Roger’s apology was real and fresh. You pressed your lips against his gently, knowing there was only one way to respond to him, in the same way he would to you.

“I’ll always forgive my best guy.”

 “It’s the fantastic drowse

Of the afternoon Sundays”

 The best part of your week was always Sunday afternoons, Rogers guaranteed day off just for you.

Roger and you had continued your tradition every Sunday morning with family brunch, but rather it with your parents, it’s with his band, your new family. As soon as Roger brought you to London with him the rest of Queen took you in, knowing how much you meant to Roger. The only difference with these brunches was no pointless questions about your life, no boring conversations, and most importantly, no questions about your future with Roger.

They already knew the answer to all of those.

Roger led Brian, Freddie, and John to the front door to say their goodbyes as you began cleaning up the dishes. Through the background noise of the sink filling up with water you could hear them whispering, though their hushed tones were too discreet to make out.

The click of the lock was familiar and pleasing to know you had the rest of the day to be with your love.

Roger snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waste and spinning you around to face him. “Another successful brunch, thanks to your amazing cooking,” Roger leaned down and placed a small peck on your lips. You smiled through the kiss for the flattery, he did more of the cooking than you did, and he knew it.

Roger moved his lips to your cheek, then down to your neck, gently nipping at your skin. His hands were snaked around your waist, holding you as close to him as possible.

You reached your hand behind you into the sink, half distracted by Roger’s lips. Picking up a handful of bubbles you lean back, blowing them into his face playfully. Roger opened his eyes slowly, his all too familiar mischievous smile growing.

“Oh no, Rog!” You lunged away from his grabbing more bubbles, throwing them at his blonde locks. Roger hunched forward, gripping under your back and legs, hoisting you up close to him. “Oh, you’re gonna get it.”

Roger plops you down on the counter next to the sink, holding your thighs around his torso with one hand, the other grabbing a handful of bubbles twice the size of yours. “Rog! No, please, I actually look nice today!” Your stomach was hurting from your laughter, hands held out towards Roger’s arm, ready to fire.

“Love, you always look nice,” Roger leaned in and gave a deep kiss to your lips. You were too distracted to even care when Roger placed his palm onto your hair, returning the favor of messing up the styling with soapy water.

Roger pulled his lips away from yours slightly, “But, now we’re even.” His smirk made you melt, the same smirk he gave you so many times in your childhood, and how it took you so long to realize how damn sexy it was.

Roger pulled his hand up, moving a piece of your hair behind your ear to uncover the eyes he adored so much. Your hands rested on his shoulders, making sure he didn’t move a muscle away from you. You took in how ridiculous you both looked, soaked and flustered.

His other hand rested in his back pocket, fondling a small box he had held onto since the first day you moved in with him in London. Roger grew nervous, his heart raced and his breathing shallowed. “(Y/N), you’re the love of my life, my best friend.”

Staring into Roger’s deep blue eyes you already knew this, he told you every morning waking up, and every night before going to bed. “I love you to death, Rog.” You whispered back, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Roger gripped the box and held it up in front of you, slowly uncovering the green emerald ring inside, the one he chose for the green forest nook of your spot that you shared so many memories in, the green of the grass between your windows, the green tint of the river water your first kiss was shared in.

You were speechless, “Oh, Rog!” You had breathed out, urging him to continue.

“We have so many perfect memories, so much time spent together. I have spent my life with you by my side, (Y/N), will you do me the honor and spend the rest of it the same?” Roger’s hands were shaking from nerves, something you had never seen from the drummer.

You wrapped your legs together behind his back, pulling him into you roughly. Pressing your mouth to his, you get lost in Roger’s world. You whispered against his lips, “Yes!”

Roger squeezed you in his arms, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen spread across his face, “that’s my best girl!”

And you were, and always will be.

Taglist: @blissfully-queen @roger-taylor-stole-my-heart @vuhlereea @cosmicsskies @freedie-mercoory @rogers-rhapsody @browneyedfloozy @fredthelegend

[fredthelegend]

Writing Challenge Masterlist

Here’s the #ftlchallenge masterlist! Thank you to everyone who is participating :) There are still spots available here if you’d like to join as well, just send me a message! Entries will be added below in order of posting date.

Somebody to Love - @another-blog-bites-the-dust (John x reader)

Save Me - @deacytits (Roger x reader)

Let Me Live - @discodeacygotmorerhythm (John x reader)

Killer Queen - @hobyblack (Lucy x reader)

Body Language - @obsessedwithrogertaylor (Roger x reader)

I Want to Break Free - @marvellouslynerdy (John x reader)

Somebody to Love - @39isabop (John x reader)

My Baby Does Me - @another-blog-bites-the-dust (Brian x reader)

Sail Away Sweet Sister part 1 part 2- @39isabop (Roger x reader)

Back Chat - @instantezra (John x reader)

Drowse - @dancing-deacon (Roger x reader)

[instantezra]

Back Chat

John Deacon x Reader

For Fredthelegend’s Writing Challenge!

Word Count: 1k 

Warnings: lots o’ alcohol, lots of cursing, tw: alcoholism (also a loved one dealing with it poorly), real sad boi hours

A/N: this is for the writing challenge held by the lovely @fredthelegend ! i’m going to apologize now because this shit hurt me to write! back chat makes me feel things, and this was inspired by the fun fact that our little ray of sunshine, john richard deacon (born august 19th 1951), could sometimes be the biggest asshole! also, lyrics are in bold!

The struggled unlocking of the door woke you out of your light sleep. You stirred, looking up towards the front door as it swung open then slammed shut. John stumbled in and slumped against the door. You weren’t sure if he was trying to be quiet or not, but it certainly wasn't working. You blinked down at your watch - 2:49 in the morning. Almost three in the morning and he was just now getting home.

“Deaks? Do you know what time it is?” You sat up, trying to make out his appearance from the little amount of light that came from the lamp. You must have fallen asleep without turning it off as you waited for John. Frustration ran through your veins as you stared him down. “I called. So many times. Where were you?”

No reply.

“John. Answer me.”

Still no answer, just him leaning against the kitchen counter and rubbing his temples.

“John, what the fuck is going on? I called and called. I called the studio. I called Brian at home, he said you guys had finished at nine. That was almost six fucking hours ago.” You had been preoccupying yourself around the house for six hours. Waiting for John. Calling for John. You piddled around the house, but nothing kept you from thinking up the worst possible outcomes. You had really hoped he hadn’t gone out to drink, he had been doing so well...

“I went to a pub, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear?” He slurred, laying a fist on the counter and averting his eyes from yours. Of course- he’d been drinking more. You sighed, rubbing your hand over his face. “I gave up, are you happy with that answer?” Of course you weren’t happy with that answer. That’s the last thing you wanted to hear from him, though you can’t say you didn’t expect it.

“We talked about this, John… you can’t just drown your problems. You can’t just… we had plans tonight! And instead, you went and drank with Lord knows who - and I waited up! I fell asleep nervous about wherever the fuck you were!” You didn’t mean to be so cross with him, but you were frustrated as all hell. He had been doing so well, only drinking at social gatherings. You knew he still smoked, but he was an adult that could make decisions you couldn’t alter. But drinking was one you knew you could help curb, but it had failed.

You got up, looking at him from the other side of the counter.

Back chat, back chat

And you always get your way

“I guess I just can’t do anything fucking right today, can I? You lot always get your way, don’t you?” He made eye contact with you, his pupils blown and his cheeks warm and red. He wasn’t sloppy drunk, but just enough to make him tick. He was drunk enough to be an asshole to the person he loved most.

“I always get my way, hmm?” That crossed the line. “You do remember that I left my career and family to tour with you guys, don’t you? And that I had a nice job lined up in Glasgow, and I gave it up. I gave it up, and now I help dress grown fucking men. And do you know why I did it, John?” You didn’t mean to say it with such venom in your voice, but you were fed up. His actions weren’t fair to you, to himself, or to your relationship.

“Oh please, do enlighten me,” he snapped, looking up at you with furrowed brows.

Survival to the end

Knock you down, you come again

“Because I fucking loved you, that’s why.”

Loved. You didn’t mean for it to be in the past tense. You still loved him. But he caught what you had said. And he stood up straight - well, as straight as he could be for being piss drunk. He looked you right in the eyes, stern and unwavering.

“Well then, why don’t you just fucking go back home, (Y/N),” he spat. You were taken aback, grabbing onto the counter to steady yourself. He had never, ever said anything like that to you. It wasn’t something you could imagine him doing. Without saying anything, though, you stepped back shakily. You walked yourself to the bedroom the two of you had shared, and you locked the door behind you. You could hear him cursing to himself and knocking something off of the counter, causing you to wince.

Your mind raced, thinking of how much this hurt. Every time he had been drunk, he was never like this. He could get grouchy, but he was never mean to you. But tonight, he was someone else. Opening drawers and grabbing clothes, you thought about all the times he had ever cursed at you or yelled at you. You could count them on less than one hand. He had always been a sweet and loving man to you, even when he could say the worst things to his bandmates when upset. Something inside of him must have switched, and you didn’t want to be there to witness it.

You pushed the bedroom door open, the wheels of your suitcase rattling across the hardwood floors. John noticed, sitting up from the couch where he had laid down. His voice croaked out your name, but you didn’t look over.

“I… I didn’t mean it, love. I didn’t.” You didn’t answer, simply putting on your shoes and grabbing your purse from the kitchen. “This is your home, you know that. You can stay right here.” John stuttered his words, nervously trying to keep you here and with him. Your knuckles were white as you gripped the doorknob.

Back chat, back chat

You burn all my energy

“I’m so fucking tired, John.” And with that, you slammed the front door shut, running down to your car as you finally let the tears you’d been holding back all night fall. You didn’t know where you were going - probably Freddie’s - but you left without looking back.

[39isabop-blog]

Somebody To Love

So this piece is for @fredthelegend‘s writing challenge. It’s based off the song “Somebody to Love.” It’s your wedding day to John Deacon and it’s going to be the sweetest :)

Word Count: 1800

Warnings: None, it’s total fluff

Also if you enjoy this, check out We Belong Together (Brian x Reader wedding)

You woke up in a cold sweat because your bed was empty. But then you remembered why. It was the morning of your wedding, and you and John had decided to spend the night separately. “It’s bad luck to see each other before the ceremony,” he winked.

It had only been one night, but you missed waking up to his cheeky gap-toothed grin. You roll over and notice that light is already streaming through your window. God, the apartment feels so empty without him. Roger, Brian, and Freddie threw him a stag night last night. You hoped it wasn’t too wild. Brian was really the only one who could control himself, and you hoped he was a good mother hen to the other three.

You turn on your bedside radio. Elton John’s “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” pours out tinny through the tiny speakers. John had brought the song home on a 45 after falling in love with it after Freddie forced him to listen to it. You had actually met Elton once, through Freddie. He was as delightful as you hoped he’d be. You sigh, and climb out of bed.

You weren’t sure whether you should get into your wedding dress straight away or what. You didn’t want bridesmaids to help you. This day was about you and John. One of the boys would be over to pick you up in an hour and a half or so. You go to your bathroom and do your makeup and hair, and then decide to get dressed. You had found the dress in a vintage market. It was a turn-of-the-century lacy gown, with a high neckline and puffy wrist-length sleeves. You modernized it, though, with a pair of platform sandals. Instead of a veil, you opted for a flower crown made of baby’s breath.

You had a bite to eat in the kitchen to calm your nerves before you heard someone honking violently outside. You peek through the drapes and see Roger pulled outside your flat in his candy apple red convertible. You gather your skirt in your arms and march outside.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Roger smiles when he sees you.

“Same to you,” you grin. Roger was wearing a grey suit (with tails, you might add) and white gloves, much to your amusement. However, his trademark sunglasses were still perched on the top of his head.

“Shame you didn’t choose me to be your bridesmaid,” Roger says.

“John called dibs on you. And I hate to say it, but Brian’s done a heck of a job as my maid of honor,” you laugh.

You had been friends with the boys since college. You went to the teacher’s college near Brian’s, and had met and became friends with him first. He had actually introduced you to John, thinking you’d be perfect for each other. Brian was never wrong, especially in this case.

Roger pulls up outside the hotel and helps you out of the car. He links his arm through your and you walk through the grand front doors into the lobby. The hotel still retained it’s 1920s glamour, from the art deco architecture to the gilded wallpaper. It was the site of your first nice date with John- he had taken you to the restaurant here. It was an expensive date, but John justified it by saying that you had put up with so many nights-in that you deserved something more, especially since “A Night At the Opera” was such a success.

This time, the entire hotel belonged to you. Freddie had insisted on buying the entire thing out just for you and Deacy. Your guests were able to stay the night before and after for free, and there was a penthouse-style suite for you and John to start your honeymoon in. For now, you made your way to the first ballroom, where the ceremony would take place.

You attempt to take a peek inside until you hear someone clearing their throat behind you. “Brian!” you jump slightly, startled.

“John told me that under no circumstances can you look in there until you are walking down the aisle,” he explains, taking your hand and guiding you to a bench in the lobby.

You both sit down. You were growing frustrated. It had been almost twenty-four hours since you had even seen John. It seemed like forever. You unclip your flower crown and lean your head into Brian’s arm. “I’m ready now!” you moan.

“There’s still at least another half hour, dear,” Brian pats your arm. “Can I do anything to make it go faster?”

“Yeah, tell me what John’s planning. I hardly know what to expect from my own wedding!”

Brian laughs, “That’s ironic, because he wanted to make it as stress-free for you as possible. He loves you so much that he wanted to take it upon himself to do everything to make it perfect for you. You heard his song for you, ‘You’re My Best Friend?’”

“Yeah, it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever done for me,” you sigh.

“Well, think of this wedding as ‘You’re My Best Friend,’ but times a hundred.”

You sit in silence with Brian for another few minutes before Roger peeks his head out of the ballroom and motions to you. You hear the swell of a string quartet, and a piano. Brian gives you his hand and helps you teeter to your feet on your platforms. He dashes inside the ballroom, leaving you alone in the lobby. This is it, you think.

You make your way towards the doors, and they open with a swoosh. Brian is at one door, Roger at the other. Guests, your family and friends, are seated in neat rows. Swaths of white silk and tulle drape elegantly from the ceiling, along with strands of fake pearls. Candles line the aisle, casting an intimate aura. You stand ready at the end of the aisle. Roger hands you a bouquet of white roses and takes your arm. Brian hooks his arm through your other elbow.

The music begins to play. It’s Freddie at the piano, but it’s a song you’ve never heard before. “Can anybody find me somebody to love?” he croons.

There’s a pause, and you lock eyes with John down the aisle. He’s wearing the same grey suit as Roger and Brian, but it looks stunning on him. It was tailored perfectly to him. His hair is neatly brushed, his spaniel ears, you teased him. His face is bright and eager, and he flashes you a huge smile, causing his eyes to crinkle.

Freddie resumes singing, “Each morning I get up I die a little…” You, Brian, and Roger begin your linked-arm march down the aisle.

“Can anybody find me somebody to love?” Freddie sings. Tears are already rolling down your face, and the ceremony hasn’t even officially started!

When you get to the end of the aisle, you realize that it’s just you and John. There’s no officiant. Your mind races, but then John begins saying, “Today is the day for just me and you. We’ve called these guests to witness us marrying each other, but we don’t need someone else to make it official for us. I have loved you for years now, and I’m ready to dedicate my life to you. Will you do this with me? Will you spend your life with me?”

“Yes!” you chirp, as if you couldn’t get the word out of your mouth any faster. “John, I love you so much. I love you beyond life itself. My life wouldn’t be a millionth of what it is if I didn’t have you. We’re a team, we take on the world together. Bad or good, let it come at us.”

John shuffles around in his pockets and pulls out two rings. He hands you the larger one. “Okay, we’re going to put these rings on each other at the same time.”

You put out your hand and slip the ring on John’s, as he does the same to you. You lean in and kiss, hard and slow. The guests erupt into applause, and you break apart, grinning. Freddie resumes the piano, playing “You’re My Best Friend.”

You two march down the aisle, and John leads you into the second ballroom, set up for your lunch reception. A dance floor seems to take up most of the room in the room, surrounded by round tables dripping with white roses. It’s just the two of you in the room. John takes your hand and twirls you on the dance floor even though there’s no music playing. You know the music’s in his head.

Roger, Brian and Freddie burst through the doors. Roger pops a bottle of champagne, accidentally spilling it all over the carpet. You just laugh. Nothing, not even spilt champagne could take you down from your high. The rest of the guests fill in, avoiding the wet spot on the floor.

Before lunch begins, there’s a round of toasts. Roger begins, “To the happy couple! May they enjoy much tranquility and peace, because God knows John doesn’t get enough of that around the band. Kidding aside, I wish you years of happiness and marital bliss.”

Brian stands next, raising his glass, “I take full responsibility for their happiness. As many of you know, I introduced them. Now I expect to be the godfather of your first child. It’s what you owe me.”

Finally, Freddie raised a whole bottle of champagne for his toast, “There’s an old wives’ tale that the number of ribbons you break while unwrapping your wedding gifts is the number of children you’ll have. Well, I’m just letting you know that I’ve wrapped my gifts entirely in ribbons.”

This elicits a roar of laughter from your guests, and another round of applause. John glances at you with a sheepish grin, and you smile back. You both desperately want children soon, and make no secret of it. Obviously, Freddie picked up on that.

After a small lunch, it’s time to cut the wedding cake. Brian smiles and hands you a pack of guitar strings. “What are we supposed to do with these?” you ask.

“Well, pull out a string. You take one end, John takes the other, and you slice the cake with it!” Brian explains with a shrug. “It was Freddie’s idea, actually. We all thought it was sweet.”

You grin and you and John do as Brian instructed. The cake gets cut neatly in half, and then you cut the top layer into smaller pieces. You and John grab forks and take a bite of cake for each other. You feed each other the cake, but pieces fall out of your mouth and frosting sticks to your cheek. John leans in and kisses off the frosting.

“I’m so lucky that I’ve found somebody to love,” he whispers.