#Roommate! John Deacon

[soft-pine]

spn20rewatch: 2.19 folsom prison blues

SAM: Dean, does it ... bother you at all, how easily you seem to fit in here? DEAN: No, not really.

there is so much emotional weight and depth to dean's reply here! this whole season, being wanted by the police has been a theme for him. from being threatened with both the death penalty and an extra-judicial sacrificial-lambing in 2.07 to being more on the cops' radar in 2.08:

SAM: So much for our low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database. DEAN: Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something. SAM: Dean, it's not funny. Makes the job harder, we've gotta be more careful now. DEAN: Well, what do they got on you? SAM: I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet. DEAN: No accessory? Nothing? SAM: Shut up.

to henriksen specifically fixating on dean in 2.12:

HENRIKSEN: Trust me, Dean's a greater risk to 'em than we are. ROBARDS: This is crazy. HENRIKSEN: Crazy's in there. And I just hung up on it.

to the aftermath of the bank situation being dean, once again, more on the radar than sam (2.13):

DEAN: What am I supposed to do? I mean, you've got me on lockdown here, I'm bored out of my skull. SAM: Hey, you were the bank robber on the eleven o'clock news, not me. 

so is it any wonder that dean, whose entire life at this point is shaped by criminal charges for things done entirely out of necessity, is sympathetic to the other inmates?

DEAN: Innocent people are dead. Four so far. SAM: Yeah, innocent. DEAN: You from Texas all of a sudden? Just because these people are in jail, doesn't mean they deserve to die. If we don't stop this thing, people are going to continue to die.

dean knows full well he's in prison because the system doesn't recognize half the real things going on in the world. why should it be any different for these people? he doesn't think he's different from anyone else, he really just doesn't. god i love him!

some other little marvels from this ep:

DEAN: Man, I am freaking velvety smooth.

playing this on a loop in my head i love him i love him i love him!!!

DEAN: I call top bunk! [DEAN’s roommate scoffs and places his things on the top bunk.] DEAN: Okay.

hmm..... makes you think.

less fun is how deacon unsettles me. i don't know. i don't tend to like john's friends and just...

DEAN: Deacon, you are beating the holy hell out of me, man. DEACON: Sorry, Dean. I thought I was going easy on you. Just, uh, trying to make it look real.

i don't love it. i don't love it.

and i don't like the way this episode sets up 2.22 so well. dean uses his body as a punching bag here with abandon. he antagonizes tiny as a distraction and literally the only component of the plan is for tiny to beat the shit out of him while sam sneaks around. he consistently just has to take deacon beating him up to keep his and deacon's cover. this pattern of dean seeing himself as bait/punching bag/disposable is certainly one of the most consistent ones throughout supernatural. i've said before and i'll say again, it's brutal to realize how many times the plan literally is to just let dean get beat to hell to distract someone/thing.

the end of season 2 really is a very specific and sad march of dean studies that bring us to 2.22.

but last but not least, i love how mutual the obsession is between henriksen and dean!!

DEAN: You know, I almost wish I could see Henriksen's face.

like okay... they're literally obsessed with each otherrrrrrr!

[bitchysoulwasteland]

Garrett X British Vampire Mate Reader.

"Ben!" you laughed as he puled you in for a tight hug "Bloody hell, it's been ages. How've you been?" you spoke, pulling away from his embrace as Carlisle and Esme stood a few paces behind you.

"Y'know, been inside the tomb where Amun has been trying to keep me out of sight. How about you, the last I herd you were in the Mediterranean."

"Golden sands, blue sea. Got kinda borin' after a while."

You had met Benjamin on your travels a few years before. Well, you had met Amun and had ended up befriending Benjamin whilst you were in Egypt. Essentially, you had been all over the world, but every now and then, you made your way back to Egypt to see Benjamin, Tia, Kebi and Amun, who had become like a second family to you.

Two days later, you were back home in the Cullen's house with the vampires who had come as witnesses.

You sat out on the porch, looking out over the woods and reading your 'The Hobbit' 1939 edition as a few more vampires arrived. You smelt something more beautiful, more delicious than anything ever before. Your eyes flicked up to see Garrett and your heart dropped. He hated British people. You were the only British Cullen. You had been changed by Esme, back in 1942, at the age of twenty, when your plane had crashed in a field and she found you, barely alive. That had ended you serving in the war as Y/n L/n became officially killed in action. So, Y/n Cullen was born.

"You know how bad that book is, don't you, Y/n?" you herd an all too familiar voice speak as you bookmarked the page and closed the book. It was the only possession you had of your past life before the crash, as you had no recollection of your past.

"Well, if it isn't the American who loathes all Englishmen and women." you knew about his backstory, Carlisle had warned you, just in case it would come up.

"Not all of them, dear Y/n." he said with a smirk.

"Really? Whatever changed?" you smirked back over your shoulder as you walked into the house.

'That woman will be the death of me.' Garrett thought as his eyes lingered on where you had been.

Twenty minutes later, you sat on the floor, a cushion under you, your trusty guitar in hand, your fingers idly moving across the steel strings. "I remember a time when you used to be able to play any Queen song on both the piano and guitar." Alistair spoke, making his presence known in the room where he had been lingering for the past twenty minutes. He was right. There had been a time when you two had been roommates for a while and you would constantly be playing some Queen song or another. He was the one who had introduced you to John Deacon, who went to the college you were in at the time.

"No, you can't." Emmet spoke in utmost disbelief. You cracked your fingers and neck, ready to prove the man wrong.

"Watch me, vampire boy." you muttered, knowing he herd when he let out a huff. "I expect everyone to sing, by the way." you said, looking directly at Garrett, who had been staring at you since you sat at the piano. Edward's fingers danced over the keys as you stood up, putting the guitar strap over your head and began to play Bohemian Rhapsody on the guitar.

"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landside, No escape from reality Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see, I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy, Because I'm easy come, easy go, Little high, little low, Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to Me, to me

Mamaaa, Just killed a man, Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, Now he's dead Mamaaa, life had just begun, But now I've gone and thrown it all away Mama, oooh, Didn't mean to make you cry, If I'm not back again this time tomorrow, Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters

Too late, my time has come, Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all The time Goodbye, everybody, I've got to go, Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth Mama, oooh I don't want to die, I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all.

I see a little silhouetto of a man, Scaramouch, Scaramouch, will you do the Fandango!

Thunderbolts and lightning, very, very frightening me Galileo, Galileo Galileo, Galileo Galileo, Figaro - magnificoo

I'm just a poor boy nobody loves me He's just a poor boy from a poor family, Spare him his life from this monstrosity Easy come, easy go, will you let me go Bismillah! No, we will not let you go (Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go (Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go (Let me go) Will not let you go (Let me go)(Never) Never let you go (Let me go) (Never) let you go (Let me go) Ah No, no, no, no, no, no, no Oh mama mia, mama mia, mama mia, let me go Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, For meee

So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye So you think you can love me and leave me to die Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby, Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here" you played the guitar solo effortlessly as you walked around, as if you were on stage.

"Nothing really matters, Anyone can see, Nothing really matters, Nothing really matters to me Any way the wind blows..." you played the last notes of the song, waiting for the piano to finish.

"Let's Live Aid this shit." you said, immediately launching into Radio Gaga. Bella seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself, and so did the others as the song began.

"I'd sit alone and watch your light My only friend through teenage nights And everything I had to know I heard it on my radio

You gave them all those old time stars Through wars of worlds invaded by Mars You made 'em laugh, you made 'em cry You made us feel like we could fly (radio)

So don't become some background noise A backdrop for the girls and boys Who just don't know, or just don't care And just complain when you're not there

You had your time, you had the power You've yet to have your finest hour Radio (radio)

All we hear is radio ga ga Radio goo goo Radio ga ga All we hear is radio ga ga Radio blah blah Radio, what's new? Radio, someone still loves you

We watch the shows, we watch the stars On videos for hours and hours We hardly need to use our ears How music changes through the years

Let's hope you never leave, old friend Like all good things, on you we depend So stick around, 'cause we might miss you When we grow tired of all this visual

You had your time, you had the power You've yet to have your finest hour Radio (radio)

All we hear is radio ga ga Radio goo goo Radio ga ga All we hear is radio ga ga Radio goo goo Radio ga ga

All we hear is radio ga ga Radio blah blah Radio, what's new? Someone still loves you

Radio ga ga (radio ga ga) Radio ga ga (radio ga ga) Radio ga ga (radio ga ga)

You had your time, you had the power You've yet to have your finest hour Radio (radio)" the song finished as you bowed extravagantly, putting the guitar on the stand in the corner of the room.

"I think I've exhausted my abilities for one day." you said dramatically as you sat in-between Garrett and Bella, who had Renesmee on her lap, Garrett's arm going around your shoulders. If you could blush, you would be a tomato. As if she sensed this, Bella started a conversation with you.

"That was awesome. How did do do that?"

"I was a guitar tech of Queen's from '68 to '91. I was a friend of John Deacon's, after Alistair introduced me, and Brian needed a guitar tech, so, Deacs recommended me. I will never forget the day that I punched Paul Prenter in the face in May, 1987 after he made up a load of crap about Freddie and told the papers."

"You spent twenty three years with the same four humans?" Garrett spoke from beside you, somewhat surprised by this.

"Yeah, and they knew. The also accepted it as long as I didn't feed on them. I only left after Freddie died." You spoke again after a few seconds of nostalgia-filled silence "Anyway, I'm gonna go for a walk, stretch my legs. I'll see you guys later." with that, you had left the house at vamp speed.

It was true. Freddie's death had been too much for you to handle, and after a year of grieving with the three friends you had left, you decided it was best to leave, before you hurt them more than they already were. You spent years wandering the world after that, doing various jobs. You had been a blacksmith, a jeweller, even a mechanic at one point, but you never had the flare you once had with the band. Never threw yourself into your work like you had done previously.

You wandered idly through the forest for an hour before coming face to face with the person you least expected, sitting on a fallen tree before you. Garrett. You braced yourself for the snide comments at your nationality, but they never came.

"I wanted to apologise." you raised an eyebrow at this as you sat beside him, "When Carlisle told me about you, I got this, picture, shall we say, in my head about what you were going to be like, according to the past interactions I've had with British people. But, you're not that bad, for a mate."

"Not that bad?" You scoffed playfully and crossed your arms, a smirk evident on your face.

"Yeah, I mean, you could be worse. A lot worse in my experience." he laughed.

"Garrett?" he turned to face you when you spoke. Grabbing his coat collar, you continued "shut up." your lips met in a love and passion filled kiss. After all, he had spent enough time lusting after you whilst knowing that you were mates. Naturally, like you, he assumed you wouldn't be interested. You pulled away to look into his ruby orbs.

"After this is all over, I'll follow you anywhere, woman."

[born-to-lose-writing]

Masterlist - one shots/series (self insert; pt. 1)

♡ - fluff, ♤ - angst, ☆ - smut, ♧ - platonic

Queen - Bohemian Rhapsody cast - Bon Jovi - Guns N' Roses - Hanoi Rocks - Richard Hell - Stiv Bators - Ramones - Van Halen - Slaughter - The Who

Queen

Roger Taylor x reader

the most wonderful time of the year ♡

609 words

You watch Queen filming music videos and Roger has got a surprise for you.

Wish I Was at Home for Christmas ♡

2,873 words

Your flight gets cancelled due to a blizzard. Even though you and Roger hate each other, he lets you stay with him over the holidays.

My Baby Does Me ☆

1,121 words

Roger thinks you're cheating on him and ends the fight in his own way…

I Want You to Know ♤

1,371 words

You're Roger's best friend and roommate, but what he doesn't know is that you're in love with him…

One More Chance ♤

961 words

While on vacation with your friends, you have to share a bed with your ex boyfriend Roger.

Out Tonight ♧

2,269 words

You've never been really drunk and you're determined to change that with a little help from your friend Roger.

Sugar ♤♡

Series || discontinued

You and your friend want to get sugar daddies to get a glimpse of the luxurious lifestyle. You find one in Roger Taylor, but there's a problem. He doesn't know about your intentions and thinks he's your boyfriend.

Chapter 1

Brian May x reader

Bite ☆

992 words

Brian has some extra time alone with you before rehearsal…

Nightmares ♤♧

830 words

After a movie session with your best friend Brian, you have a nightmare.

John Deacon x reader

All I Want for Christmas Is You ♡

1,356 words

Deaky got you for Secret Santa and buys you a really expensive gift.

And They Were Roommates ♡

4,026 words

When you found out you're going to share your dorm room with a boy, you hoped you'd be good friends. But it doesn't take you long to realize you might feel more for John…

Multiple pairings

If You Were in These Arms ♤♡

Series || discontinued

Roger Taylor x reader, Brian May x reader

You're pregnant with Roger's baby, but sometimes things don't work out as planned. Sometimes you find more support in your best friend than the child's father. But what if that turns out not to be as bad as it seems?

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4

Bohemian Rhapsody cast

Rami Malek x reader

Sex Dream ☆

2,024 words

After a weird dream about Rami, you can't stop thinking about him naked all day.

Ben Hardy x reader

Thirteen Years ♡

1,665 words

Joe organizes a blind date for Ben. He soon notices the girl he's been set up with played an important part in his childhood.

Joe Mazzello x reader

Feeling Better ☆♡

1,878 words

A back massage from Joe gets out of hand…

Bon Jovi

Jon Bon Jovi x reader

Always ♤♡

4,381 words

You love Jon, but at some point the rockstar lifestyle gets too much for you. While you find a way to move on after the breakup, he's still not over you after two years and writes a song to cope.

Slippery When Wet ♡ (♧)

2,081 words

You share a flat with Jon, who regularly serves as a model for your college photography projects. One time he suggests you use the shower as a backdrop.

Richie Sambora x reader

Subway Singer ♡

Series || work in progress

You were just living in your daily routine: university, work, home. Until one day a missed train changes everything…

Chapter 1

Guns N’ Roses

Axl Rose x reader

You Take My Breath Away ♡

1,037 words

You're the only person who has ever made Axl feel really loved and he wants to keep you by his side forever.

Cookies ♡

615 words

You and Axl bake cookies for the band.

The Coffee Savior ♡

516 words

On an ice-slicked day, Axl saves you - and your coffee - from falling, so of course you have to return the favour by going on a date with him.

Slash x reader

Your Girl ♡

1,009 words

Slash gets jealous easily when other guys look at you the wrong way.

Obsession ♡

566 words

Slash is obsessed with you and of course, the boys love teasing him about it.

Hello, I'm your boyfriend ♡

716 words

Slash comes to your rescue when you run into your ex by pretending to be your boyfriend.

Cat-and-Mouse ♡

906 words

You spot Slash in the crowd at a small venue concert and you're clearly attracted to each other, but playing a little hard to get never hurt anyone.

Future Lover Boy ☆

1,003 words

You know cheating is wrong, but for an affair with Slash, you're willing to make an exception.

Never Stopped Loving You ♤

1,417 words

You and Slash get hate from the media because of the age difference in your relationship, so he has to make a hard decision…

Drunk Christmas ♡

651 words

You and Slash are invited to a Christmas party, but after a short while, he gets drunk. Way too drunk.

How Christmas Is Supposed to Be ♡

923 words

When Slash finds out Christmas used to be your favorite holiday until it became just another day, he goes all out to make your first Christmas together special.

Izzy Stradlin x reader

New Beginnings ♡♤

776 words

Izzy comes home to you after leaving Guns N' Roses.

Just in It for Sex ☆♡

5,066 words

You and Izzy are fuck buddies, no romance involved, just sex. When your friends think you're more than that, you start questioning your feelings.

Time Gone By ♤

3,264 words

You and Izzy were the perfect couple in high school, but after he moved to Los Angeles, you lost each other. Years later, he comes back to Indiana and you realize both of you have changed in the meantime.

Date Night ☆

1,336 words

You run into your ex and he hits on you, but Izzy fucks you in the next room to show him you're his girl now.

Wild Horses ♡

1,070 words

Izzy calls you while he's on tour.

Walk Me Home ♡

1,117 words

You meet Izzy at a gig and he walks you home.

After All This Time ♡

2,232 words

In 1991, you and Izzy reunite and even now, your old feelings are still there.

Safe With Me ♤

1,235 words

Getting back together with your abusive ex boyfriend was a terrible decision. Thankfully, Izzy gives you a shoulder to cry on.

Dial H for Heartbreak ♤♡

Mini-series || finished

You can't handle Izzy's addiction anymore and draw the line when he gets arrested.

Part 1 || Part 2

Fairy Lights ♡

437 words

You and Izzy spend a romantic evening in your garden.

Helping Mouth ☆

837 words

You've never been eaten out before, but Izzy is here to help.

Duff McKagan x reader

Wrong Number ♡

1,569 words

You call Steven to talk about your love for Duff. Or at least you think you're calling Steven…

Home for the Holidays ♡

1,583 words

Duff's mother invites you, his best friend, to the McKagans' holiday meal in an attempt to set you two up.

Steven Adler x reader

Hairstyles ♡♧

572 words

Steven lets you practice some hairstyles on him.

Hanoi Rocks

Nasty Suicide x reader

Every Single Word ♡

654 words

You talk about how you're in love with Nasty in German, thinking he doesn't understand a word of what you're saying.

What If I Never Get Over You? ♤

3,838 words

You and Nasty weren't only friends, but not quite lovers either. Then why does it take you so long to get over him after he breaks up with you?

Sami Yaffa x reader

Starstruck ♡

1,033 words

Sami has a crush on you, a famous singer, and gets nervous when he meets you in person.

Richard Hell x reader

Happy New Year ♡

636 words

You meet Richard at a gig on New Year's Eve.

Stiv Bators x reader

Long-lasting ☆

500 words

After a Dead Boys gig, you get Stiv to sign something for you - among other things…

Ramones

Joey Ramone x reader

Baby, I Love You ♡

500 words

You and Joey dance to one of your favorite songs.

Van Halen

Eddie Van Halen x reader

By Your Side ♤♡

681 words

You miss Eddie while he's on tour.

Slaughter

Mark Slaughter x reader

Locked Out ♡

600 words

Mark locks himself out of his apartment.

The Who

Roger Daltrey x reader

You Make It Feel Like Christmas ♡

1,321 words

You spend the holiday season with Roger.

No Road Romance ☆♤♡

Series || work in progress

When you start going to The Who's shows, you regularly hook up with Roger, but after a while of being his groupie and a friend, you're beginning to think you like him more than that.

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4

John Entwistle x reader

Cheering Up ♡♤ (trans male!reader)

849 words

You've been feeling insecure, but John does what he can to cheer you up and make you eat.

Sweet Breakfast ♡

1,280 words

John has noticed he's been gaining weight and decides you should too.

Pete Townshend x reader

Kids! Do You Want Kids ♡

2,736 words

You and Pete are expecting your first baby.

[hitchell-mope]

Hypothetical titles for season one of Cabalibu

My new roommate. Season premiere. Barnaby Sullivan moved into North Hall and gets acquainted with his dorm mates

The facts of strife. Barnaby’s first class is a health seminar taught by Baby New Year.

Family inheritance. Barnaby gets a surprise when he finds Captain Astronaut in his room. Guest starring Jake Gyllenhaal as Captain Astronaut.

Money money money. Diocese gets an unwelcome surprise when her father pays a visit and announces some changes he’ll implement to the Academy at the end of the school year.

Serving Kant. As Stacie, Ryan, Lauren and Naomi head off to a fashion show. Barnaby, JJ, Beckett and Trevor try to come up with ethical ways to help Diocese save the school

Concerto. Barnaby’s first school saving idea hits a snag when all the pianos in the school go missing.

Taken down a peg. Barnaby puts the fear of Fifth Avenue into Rhiannon by publicly supporting Diocese and Deacon.

Parents weekend. Findlay and Sidney visit the school for the weekend to rescind Findlay’s application to the PTA. Guest starring Brie Larson and Zac Efron as Findlay and Sidney Sullivan. This is a crossover episode continuing on from the 88 episode Interstate PTA

Blood fest 4: who wants some more?. Barnaby gets a little too into his role as a villain for Naomi’s student horror movie.

Múltiples momentos en el tiempo. Lauren’s accidental invention of cola based time travel results in Ryan and Beckett learning why Robert wants to change how the school is run.

Supper time Spanky. Naomi goes behind Barnaby’s back and contacts Drummond in an attempt to get tickets to a Melanie Crenshaw concert. Guest starring Walker Scobell ad Jonah Sullivan, Aidan Gallagher as Drummond Sullivan and Beyoncé as Melanie Crenshaw

The very last feast. Midseason finale. Rory tried to help Diocese and Deacon make what could possibly be the last Christmas feast at the school the best one yet.

To were(wolf) is human. Midseason premiere. Barnaby finds what he believes is a puppy in the grounds of the school only to find out it’s a packless werewolf cub. This leads into a crossover that continues into the 88 episode To Forgive, Benign.

How the crucifixion affects the human body. Barnaby’s science project involves two relatives, stigmata and a helluva lot of rain buckets. Guest starring Mitchell Hope as Andy Christensen and Deniz Akdeniz as Jesse Christensen.

The big giant screw up. Ryan gets into legal trouble when Stacie’s mother invites the dorm mates to a water park for Stacie’s birthday. Guest starring Mila Jovovich as Tsarina Olga Romanov

A week of lessons. Barnaby takes the fall for Ryan’s indiscretion which means that he is required to attend a full week of lessons as per his timetable.

May the better merman win. Trevor makes the mistake of signing up for a charity triathlon. Not knowing that it involves swimming. When he is catatonically afraid of water

How low can you go? Stacie and Lauren get into a nigh on violent competition during carnival night

Washington on your side. Barnaby gets his grandfather to contact the White House to help save the academy. Guest starring John C Reilly as Jones Wilmington and Jeremy Shada as Vice President Robbie Guilroy.

Hail Mary. With less than three months to go until the end of the school year. Diocese and Deacon work overtime trying to save the Academy.

Commencement. Naomi had been selected as her graduation classes valedictorian. As such. She has to write and present a commencement speech. Which she has no idea how to do.

Brockman DeWinter. The tribunal for the fiscal fate of the Academy begins. And Barnaby lodges a surprise witness at Rhiannon in the form of his great grandmother Celestine. Guest starring Wendie Malick as Celestine “Rainbow Tsunami” Wilmington.

Cap and gown. JJ and Naomi’s graduation day has arrived. And with it. An increasing feeling of dread on the pit of Diocese’s stomach

Swing vote. Season finale. Barnaby summons some relatives to Diocese and Deacons aid for the final day of the tribunal. Guest starring Eric Bana as Godfrey Christensen and Adelaide as Lucia Birch

[adamwatchesmovies]

Grace: The Possession (2014)

If you look hard, you’ll find that Grace: The Possession (titled simple Grace in some markets) isn’t completely without merit. It’s trying something new - which is always praiseworthy - and there are a couple of moments during its big scene that are clever. Before you get excited, know that it’s hardly worth sitting through the film to see them. This is a predictable, poorly-written horror film.

Grace (Alexia Fast) has finally mustered the courage to leave her grandmother’s home and go to college. Unfortunately, the 18-year-old devout Catholic is ill-suited for the culture shock that awaits her. Things get worse when she begins experiencing nightmares and terrifying hallucinations. Is it mental illness, or the same dark force grandma (Lin Shaye) claims caused Grace’s mom’s death?

Grace: The Possession is almost entirely shot from a first-person point of view, which is a neat idea. This cinematic technique allows us to simulate the terrifying loss of control you would feel while something else takes over your body. As the possession gets worse, Grace hallucinates some skin-crawling or perplexing stuff that might be scary to see from the usual point of view but is even more unsettling from her's. This does mean that those who couldn’t handle the shakiness of “found footage” horror will have a difficult time watching the film, but director Jeff Chan (who co-wrote the story with Chris Pare) must've been aware. Instead of compromising, he made a bold choice and chose to stick with it all the way through.

It’s a shame the film has nothing going on outside of its vantage point. Grace has no personality. Her grandmother is a domineering bully and nothing more. Every single college student reaches for a bottle of alcohol the second they get up, party all night with the help of drugs and cares more about sex than their classes. Seriously, it’s the first day of school and Grace’s roommate, Jessica (Alexis Knapp), is partying like graduation is happening tomorrow. It’s a cartoon.

In theory, three questions will keep you engaged. “What’s happening to Grace?”, “What happened to Grace’s mother?" and "Who is Grace's father?” with the title and premise giving the first question away, you hope the second and third questions will be harder to decipher. They aren’t. The second Grace comes home and meets Father John (Alan Dale) and Deacon Luke (Joel David Moore), you know EXACTLY what’s going on. The film constantly features little things that cinematically rub you the wrong way. Clues about Grace's father are conveniently left out in the open (why hadn’t she found them earlier?). At school, Grace only hangs out with people you know she would never be friends with. For that matter, if she’s so religious and her grandmother is too, why didn’t she apply to a Christian college? it makes no sense.

The film’s conclusion contains several head-scratchers between the unintentionally funny moments. To no one’s surprise, Father John is Grace’s father. It was pretty clear from his introduction that he was up to no good. When the exorcism he attempts fails, Grace goes full demonic and then murders him, saying he’s got to pay for raping Grace’s mom (we see it happen in a scene so ill-conceived I'm stunned someone at the studio didn’t speak up and get it thrown in the trash). The murder just doesn’t seem right. If Grace had given herself to Satan or made a pack with a demon, I'd understand, but why would an evil entity kill someone evil, even if they were a priest? Shouldn’t the possessor try to make humanity suffer more by keeping him alive? Or did the sinister force know Deacon Luke would then invite it into his body to save Grace? It leads to a "scary" twist, where we see the possessed Deacon hosting mass. It's supposed to unsettle but only raises more questions. How does he perform the ceremony when touching holy water makes his skin sizzle? See what I mean about this being poorly thought-out? Things happen not because they make sense; they happen so the movie can have “scares”.

The one new thing Grace: The Possession has to offer isn’t nearly enough to offset the writing. You’ve seen everything this movie has to offer - except for the camerawork - before, done better elsewhere. It’s an awful horror film that borders on the offensive. (July 25, 2021)

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 6.6

Holidays

Atheist Pride Day [also 3.20]

Bonza Bottler Day

Children’s Union Foundation Day (North Korea)

Dark of the Moon Day (According to C.W. McCall’s song “Convoy”)

D-Day

Detergent Day

Drive-In Movie Day

Elfreth’s Alley Day (Fete Day; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)

Engineering Day (Argentina)

Engineer’s Day (Taiwan)

Flavor Massacre Day

Gardening Exercise Day

Helicopter Day

International Graphene Day

International Homebirth Day

International Slayer Day

Korean Children’s Union Foundation Day (North Korea)

Memorial Day (South Korea)

National Caves & Karst Day

National Cow Day (Norway)

National Cynthia Day

National Day of Sweden (a.k.a. Nationaldagen)

National Eyewear Day

National Gardening Exercise Day

National Higher Education Day

National Hunger Awareness Day

National Huntington’s Disease Awareness Day

National Naloxone Awareness Day

National Neuro-Disabilities Day (UK)

National Roommate Appreciation Day

National Stick Your Hand in a Blender Day

NBA Day

Philatelic Writers Day

Poppy Plant Day (French Republic)

Procession of the Golden Chariot (Mons, Belgium)

Public Museum Day

Red Herring Day (Sweden)

Russian Language Day (UN)

Sacral Agenesis / Caudal Regression Syndrome Awareness Day

Satisfaction Day

Secure Your Load Day

Shriners International Awareness Day

Teachers’ Day (Bolivia)

Tetris Day

Visually Impaired People Day

Woodmen of the World Founder's Day

World Caribou Day

World Green Roof Day

World IPv6 Day

World Pest Day

World Teacher Day (Bolivia)

World Tetris Day

World Transplant

YMCA Day

Yo-Yo Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

National Applesauce Cake Day

National Churro Day

National Long Island Iced Tea Day

Roll Cake Day (Japan)

1st Tuesday in June

National Healthcare Recruiter Recognition Day [1st Tuesday]

Women’s Golf [1st Tuesday]

Independence Days

Abeldane Empire; (a.k.a. Imperial Day; Declared; 2014) [unrecognized]

Ardesoda (Declared; 2022) [unrecognized]

Berin (Declared; 2011) [unrecognized]

Great Welland (Declared; 2022) [unrecognized]

Sweden (Election of King Gustav Vasa & end of the Kalmar Union, 1523)

Pacem (f.k.a. Abies; Declared; 2015) [unrecognized]

Queensland Day (Australia)

Santos (Declared; 2011) [unrecognized]

United Snakes of America (Declared; 2020) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Adopt a New Phobia Day (Pastafarian)

Claude (Christian; Saint)

Claudius (Christian; Saint)

The Bendideia of Bendis (Festival to Moon Goddess of Thrace)

Day of the South Wind (Pagan)

Diego Velázquez (Artology)

Donald B. Tucker (Muppetism)

Festival of Chiu Hsien (Taoist Spirit of Alcohol)

Gudwall (Christian; Saint)

Ini Kopuria (Church of England, Episcopal Church, Anglican Church of Melanesia)

Interpretive Dance Day (Pastafarian)

St. Isidore of Seville (Positivist; Saint)

John Tumbull (Artology)

Marcellin Champagnat (Christian; Saint)

Norbert of Gennep (a.k.a. of Xanten’; Christian; Saint) [Bohemia]

Pancho Contreas (Muppetism)

Philip the Deacon (Christian; Saint)

Santa Anna Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Prime Number Day: 157 [37 of 72]

Sakimake (先負 Japan) [Bad luck in the morning, good luck in the afternoon.]

Tycho Brahe Unlucky Day (Scandinavia) [25 of 37]

Unfortunate Day (Pagan) [32 of 57]

Premieres

Bourne Identity (Film; 2002)

Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang, by Chelsea Handler (Humor Book; 2010)

Con Air (Film; 1997)

Edge of Tomorrow (Film; 2014)

The Fault in Our Stars (Film; 2014)

The Good Times, by Russell Baker (Novel; 1989)

Herbie Rides Again (Film; 1974)

(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction, by The Rolling Stones (Song; 1965)

Invisible Touch, by Genesis (Album; 1986)

I Will Always Love You, by Dolly Parton (Song; 1974)

Kung Fu Panda (Animated Film; 2008)

Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.), by Katy Perry (Song; 2011)

Love Me Do, recorded by The Beatles (Song; 1962)

Men at Work, by George F. Will (Sports Book; 1990)

November Rain, by Guns N’ Roses (Music Video; 1992)

Only the Lonely, by Roy Orbison (Song; 1960)

Ping Pong Summer (Film; 2014)

Pygmy, by Chuck Palahniuk (Novel; 2009)

The River in Reverse, by Elvis Costello (Album; 2006)

Sex and the City (TV Series; 1998)

Storms of Life, by Randy Travis (Album; 1986)

Tax: Quest for Burger (WB Animated Film; 2023)

There Auto Be a Law (WB LT Cartoon; 1953)

20/20 (TV News Series; 1978)

2 Fast 2 Furious (Film; 2003) [F&F #2]

Up the Academy (Film; 1980)

Urban Cowboy (Film; 1980)

War and Pieces (WB LT Cartoon; 1964)

You Don’t Mess with the Zohan (Film; 2008)

Today’s Name Days

Bertrand, Kevin, Norbert (Austria)

Berta, Klaudije, Neda, Norbert (Croatia)

Norbert (Czech Republic)

Nobertus (Denmark)

Pärle, Piibe (Estonia)

Kustaa, Kustavi, Kyösti (Finland)

Norbert (France)

Alice, Bertrand, Kevin, Norbert (Germany)

Ilarion (Greece)

Cintia, Norbert (Hungary)

Norberto, Paola, Paula (Italy)

Adalberts, Ardis, Arnis, Ingrīda, Vairis (Latvia)

Mėta, Norbertas, Paulina, Tauras (Lithuania)

Gustav, Gyda (Norway)

Benignus, Dominika, Klaudiusz, Laurenty, Norbert, Norberta, Paulina, Symeon, Więcerad (Poland)

Ilarion (România)

Norbert (Slovakia)

Marcelino, Norberto (Spain)

Gösta, Gustav (Sweden)

Judith, Valerie (Ukraine)

Dante, Donte, Delaney, Norbert, Norberta, Norberto (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 157 of 2024; 208 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 2 of week 23 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Huath (Hawthorn) [Day 23 of 28]

Chinese: Month 4 (Ding-Si), Day 19 (Yi-Wei)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 17 Sivan 5783

Islamic: 17 Dhu al-Qada 1444

J Cal: 7 Sol; Sevenday [7 of 30]

Julian: 24 May 2023

Moon: 92%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 17 St. Paul (6th Month) [St. Isidore of Seville]

Runic Half Month: Odal (Home, Possession) [Day 12 of 15]

Season: Spring (Day 78 of 90)

Zodiac: Gemini (Day 16 of 32)

[gingerwerk]

I am half an hour into the weird Al movie and I can confidently say it’s the best movie of the year

[borealis-strange]

Summary:

This… was completely new to John. He had never had roommates and now he had three. Since he'd joined Queen, his life had turned into chaos, in a way. Practices throughout the week, plus some concerts they gave, a few fights to see who did what, all of that added to everything he had to do for college. He wasn't going to complain, in fact, it was the best thing that had happened to him in years and he was quite happy with his life despite the work overload. After a few months of being in the band, the boys convinced him to move in with them but now John was in front of the apartment door, he regretted it a little.

Notes:

This was supposed to come out two days ago but my life is upside down right now. (I'm not in my house)

And this is the other fic I had written for the @50yearsofqueen event! At least a part of it. So... tell me if you want to see the rest of it!

[rogers-greasegun]

Roger: Do you want to fight?? I have a pipe

John: Well I have fists...

John: And words

[queen-trash-can]

My roommate has seen Bohemian Rhapsody so many times I think she can quote it all if she tried. I think the count is at 8 but I can’t be too sure.

EVERY SINGLE TIME SHE SOBS

I don’t understand how she can cry so much about it. Like the movie is FANTASTIC but it is still the same thing and seeing something so many times makes me stop crying.

P.S. I did cry too when I first saw it I’m not not human, I just don’t cry on the 5th time I have seen it

[nightingaelic]

I got a question, who do you think out of all 3/New Vegas/4 companions would make the best to worst roomates? Like from the ones who become your best bro to the ones who are horrible yet contribute to chores/rent in some way while still being bad.... This might be in some form of modern Au or the fallout universe

(excluding the bots/soggos/super mutants)

excluding the bots/doggos/super mutants

But why? 😊

Here's my tier list, brought to you by Tiermaker. Detailed explanations below the cut, starting from the bottom.

40. Jericho

Asshole who will trap you in the kitchen when you can't escape and start going on and on about how the #MeToo movement went way out of control.

39-38. Dog/God

This guy desperately needs therapy, and by god, he's going to make it your problem. Doesn't shower.

37. Clover

Clingy in the worst way, to the point of possessiveness, and has no other friends for a variety of reasons. Also needs therapy.

36. Sergeant RL-3

Annoying nationalist who is probably the reason you keep getting ads on your YouTube account encouraging you to donate to conservative think tanks or join the National Guard. At least he does the dishes.

35. Joshua Graham

Pulls out lectures about redemption and changing your ways every time you forget to turn a light off or leave the door unlocked. Insanely judgmental for a guy who believes in loving thy neighbor.

34. Rose of Sharon Cassidy

Rarely sober, and often trying to encourage you to join her in inebriation. Will hold your hair back when you puke, and will make you late and hungover for work.

33. Strong

Judgmental of any change in his environment, be it furniture, climate, or guests, and unafraid of voicing that disgruntlement immediately. Totally willing to share any of his food in the fridge, even if half of it is expired.

32. Dean Domino

Elitist mild talent who will drag you to open mic nights just so he can show off how much more accomplished he is than you. Will pick up the tab on dining out rather than do dishes when it's his turn. Doesn't take 'no' for an answer, or at least doesn't take it well. Does have great fashion advice.

31. Porter Gage

Cleanliness standards do not match yours, but he's got a knack for repairs and will fix anything in your living space that breaks, including minor welding projects. Needs to be reminded to shower. Unwilling to take a stance on anything from politics to which side of the toilet paper roll should be facing out, and will dump the blame on you if anyone has any complaints.

30. Cait

Fiercely protective of you once she's warmed up to you, but fiercely defends her own personal space, too. Cleanliness standards don't match yours, and occasionally needs to be reminded to shower. Often aggressively drunk and cries a lot over small things, but makes up for it by having your back whenever you're having a bad day, especially if that means kicking someone's ass. Also needs therapy, but she at least acknowledges it.

29. Mayor John Hancock

Laid back, new best friend material, provided you're willing to overlook some big character flaws. Shares everything he has in the fridge, cupboards, closets, provided you ask first - heaven help you if you don't. Invites friends over for wild parties without giving you advance warning. They're good parties, but they're always on bad nights for you, and the aftermath mess never gets cleaned up fast enough. Knows every drug dealer within 50 miles on a first-name basis.

28. Robert Joseph MacCready

Cleanliness standards are not the same as yours, but it's more of a neatness problem than a general hygiene problem. Will tidy up if asked to, but you're always going to have to ask him to. Shy, slow to trust other people, and insists on paying you back immediately every time you pick up the tab on something. Shares custody of his son with his ex-wife, and you can tell he's a great dad even if he isn't a great roommate. Good cook.

27. Deacon

A total mystery, in both good and bad ways. Knows all the best places in the area to drink. Disappears for up to a week at a time and refuses to tell you where he's been when he finally returns. Eats primarily breakfast cereal. Does not have any social media that you know of, but knows about news and trending topics well before you do. Eclectic fashion sense. Pays rent in cash. You don't even know how old he is. Your friends speculate about his identity to no end.

26. Butch DeLoria

Knows how to cut hair, and he'll do yours for free. Likes to complain for fun using vivid recreations of interactions he's had, which can be entertaining as hell or horribly annoying. Takes over doing the laundry entirely because he's worried about his clothes getting damaged, or maybe he just finds the work soothing. On good terms with his mom, even though she's going through a rough patch. Not a fan of your other friends, no matter who you introduce him to.

25. Christine Royce

You know she has a social life, but she seems determined not to share it with you. She's even more tight-lipped about her family life, so much so that you think maybe she's cut ties. What she lacks in openness she makes up for in organization skills and thoughtfulness - the fridge and cupboards are clean, her things are neat, and she'll make late-night breakfast food if you're feeling hungry after an evening out. Has night terrors, but won't talk about them outside of her therapist's office.

24. Follows-Chalk

Avid camper who likes to take long trips into the wilderness and return with the best pictures you've ever seen of national park landmarks. Self-sufficient when doing chores, but seems a little clueless about social etiquette, even if he's eager to make friends. Willing to talk to just about anyone he meets, including scary bikers in dive bars, transient people outside grocery stores, even postal workers who are just trying to deliver your mail. Remembers all of their names. Gives the best birthday presents.

23. Charon

Ex-military who seems to regret it, even if it got him out of a bad living situation. Quiet, well-read, and a little scary when he needs to be if the neighbors or landlord are being unreasonable. Glued to your side if you go out anywhere because he refuses to mingle with anyone he doesn't already know. Doesn't drink, but if you catch him after 2 a.m., he'll talk for hours about anything from hitchhiking to deep sea exploration to the Cold War. Mysterious past, and after you part ways, a mysterious future.

22. Old Longfellow

The foul-mouthed, devil-may-care grandfather you and your friends never had. Doesn't want to be bothered unless it's an emergency, but it's fun to bother him anyway and see what new insults he'll invent just to tell you to fuck off. Can de-bone a fish, peel a crustacean, and rustle up a chowder faster than any line cook you've ever met, and he gets a discount from every stand at the farmer's market for unknown reasons. Lost his wife a while back, and it's clear he really loved her and respected her. Can out-drink you and everyone you know. Disappears every year for deer hunting season.

21. Craig Boone

Another ex-military who still lives like his superiors are around the corner and are going to critique how he made his bed and cleaned the bathroom. Doesn't really regret his service, but doesn't NOT regret it - you can't get a good reading on his feelings, and it's complicated by the fact that whatever he did was pretty classified. Doesn't seem to associate with many of his former division, at any rate. Makes great stir fry, knows all the best pair workout routines to lose fat and build muscle, and has lots of non-specific stories about traveling around the world. His last break-up was very painful and he WILL bring it up. Might have PTSD, but he's in denial about it.

20. Piper Wright

Easily consumed by her latest writing project and may forget to feed herself or go outside. When she does remember to go outside, she disappears for long stretches of time and comes back with the craziest stories, which are great material for re-telling at parties. Nosy as all hell, and doesn't have many friends as a result, so she's appreciative of those who stick around anyway and tosses you the latest neighborhood gossip if you ask for it. Primary caretaker for her little sister, who's still in middle school and got you into watching the Owl House.

19. Raul Alfonso Tejada

Keeps to himself, unless there's some kind of tangible project he can tackle that brings him into the shared living spaces. Adopts random furniture on the street and brings the pieces home to refurbish, then sell online. Fixed one broken washing machine on a whim and somehow got hired as the building handyman, which knocks some money off your rent. Addicted to reality television. Refuses to join any of your group chats, and half of your other friends don't even think he's real.

18-15. All of the Dogs

Basic dog roommates. Give walks and food, receive unconditional love and protection. Rex still doesn't like people with hats.

14. Paladin Danse

Current military service member, and proud of it. Still, not afraid to call others in his line of work on their bullshit. Doesn't really get the whole roommate bonding thing unless it's done on a local sports team or in a camp obstacle course, but he knows how to be civil and keep his living spaces neat and clean. Gym rat who will try to rope you into going too, so much so that he's willing to lie and say you're in a relationship to get you on his own membership pass. Always looks great in photos, and half your friends want to seduce him.

13. Nick Valentine

Witty, low-maintenance guy who's easy to befriend. Runs a private investigation business online and will occasionally have clients over in the living room, in varying degrees of distress. Always lets you know ahead of time, is always understanding if it isn't a good time for you to deal with that, and will move his operations to the local coffee shop if asked. Insomniac. Owns multiple sets of the same outfit, but is still a snappy dresser. Buys donuts if there's a sale. Suspicious of anyone you bring home.

12. Arcade Israel Gannon

Anxious, but manages it. Doesn't set out to be friends, and it might take a bit of poking before he decides to give you a shot and get to know you better. Shy, occasionally judgmental, and needs to be convinced to give others the benefit of the doubt. Hates ordering out and prefers to cook for himself, and he'll happily share if it's a new recipe he's trying out. Physically incapable of sleeping in. Well-read to the point of getting annoyed at random strangers online because he knows they're wrong, but refuses to comment and correct them and would rather stew.

11. Codsworth

Polite, neat, model roommate to brag about to your friends. Does cleaning chores for fun, often right before you had planned to do them. Clingy, worries about you when you go out, texts to check in way too much. Permanent designated driver, and viciously guards the best macaroni and cheese recipe you've ever had. Loves Downton Abbey and Bridgerton.

10. Curie

Still figuring herself out, and she's happy to enlist you in the process as her new best friend. You think she might be home-schooled with how little she knows about the wide world, but she embraces each new experience fully, with the enthusiasm of a duck in a puddle. Suggests trying a new restaurant every time you order food, tips delivery drivers way more than normal, and insists on doing the dishes as soon as they're dirtied. Dances like nobody's watching while she's vacuuming.

9. Veronica Santangelo

Set out to share a living space in order to get away from her family and a recent failed relationship. Honest and open about all of that, and about how she's hopeful she can move on. Participates in a local boxing club and roller derby team, and most of her wardrobe consists of sweatshirts and yoga pants. Content to lounge, eat popcorn in front of cheesy romantic comedies, pick out the worst dialogue with you, and run it into the ground over the next week. Also loves to go fancy clothes shopping, and books reservations at an upscale restaurant once every few months in order to justify the money she drops on Depop.

8. Star Paladin Cross

Legacy buzz cut lesbian who may or may not have military service under her belt. Either way, she's fit as fuck and hasn't slowed down her social life just because she's getting older. Well-known in the local community as a Pride event organizer and activist, tends a box garden outside one of the nearby churches, and jogs every morning to stay in shape and say hi to everyone she cares about. Often has guests over unannounced, but they're all upstanding members of the community and usually come with a bag of produce to stuff in your fridge.

7. Waking Cloud

Older than the rest of your friend group, but she's perfectly happy being out of the loop on the latest fad. Sweet and caring. Has three grown children who drop by now and then to catch up with her and get to know you over tea. Certified doula who disappears overnight occasionally on an assignment, but she always texts to let you know she's okay. Great cook. Demanding cleaning schedule. Will mom the shit out of you.

6. ED-E

Doesn't say much, and doesn't need to. Television addict who can spend hours binging every new show on Netflix. Works for the local post office and is on good terms with just about everybody you know. Insists on carrying all your bags if you go shopping together. Can't cook for shit, but can do all the other chores better than almost any other roommate you've had.

5. Ada

Kind, practical, and solution-oriented. Just as willing to listen to you vent as she is to unclog the sink. Interested in tech that can make your lives easier, which led to her purchasing a high-end security system and a Roomba. You're a little worried that the upgraded tech is spying on you, but you're also pretty sure that she's tinkered with it to the point that it's no longer connected to any corporate networks. You're unsure of the legality surrounding that, so you stay out of it. Loves to travel for sightseeing and watches MythBusters on repeat.

4. X6-88

Strong, silent type. Answered the ad with three months' rent ready to go, plus the security deposit just in case. A little socially awkward, but in a way that makes people give him a second glance. Follows a strict diet and won't deviate, even for special occasions. Organized to the point of eyebrow-raising. Will eventually open up about his control-freak beginnings, and grow more and more loyal in his friendship as he shares. Wears a lot of black sweaters, and looks damn good in them. Can't stand pet fur though, and he'll go through a lint roller a week if you come in with a dog or a cat.

3. Fawkes

Works night shift as a security guard, so his days are largely free. Volunteers at the local library and reads every book under the sun. Always has the best YouTube recommendations for you, and pulls the best recipes to try out off of TikTok. Mildly clumsy and may break some dishes, but he'll apologize and replace them if it happens. Bleeding heart animal lover who will temporarily adopt any strays he finds, which is usually adorable but can be stressful.

2. Preston Garvey

Stays out of your business, unless you ask for his help, in which case he throws his everything into backing you up. Volunteers at the local homeless shelter and food pantry, and still makes time to join you for movie night with pizza and the latest Marvel release.

1. Lily Bowen

Your new grandma. Literally everyone in town loves her. Will make you breakfast in bed on weekends and chicken noodle soup when you're sick. Bakes constantly. Makes the best cookies. Turns cleaning chores and grocery shopping into a game, and runs a book club and knitting circle out of your living room. All her grandma friends love you too, and they keep trying to set you up with their grandchildren.

[theprophetsaid]

Chapters: 4/7 Fandom: Queen (Band), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Rating: Mature Relationships: Brian May/Freddie Mercury Characters: Freddie Mercury, Brian May, Roger Taylor (Queen), Tim Staffell, John Deacon Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, Queer Themes, shameless flirting, Mutual Pining, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Roger Taylor (Queen) Is a Good Friend, Roommates, Eventual Smut

Summary:

As quietly as possible, Freddie slips into the bit of space next to Brian, but he still startles. It’s no wonder why; the music is blasting through his battered plug-ins, and when Brian removes an earbud, Freddie realises …  it’s fucking Jimi Hendrix. 

“Are you trying to scare the living soul out of me?” Brian mumbles, more embarrassed than annoyed, it seems, as he scrambles to turn off his music.

The apology on Freddie’s tongue dies when Brian faces him because… woah.

CHAPTER 4 HAS NOW BEEN POSTED!

[paulsmashedpotato]

41 and 49 with fluffy Deacy please I miss him so muchhh thank uu

And here's another ask from my inbox (it was already rotting from being in there for so long). ANYWAY HI SO I DECIDED TO MAKE THIS A SEQUEL TO BEDLAM, NOT A SEQUEL SEQUEL, JUST DEACY AND READER YKNOW THE NEXT DAY IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT GO READ IT FIIIIIRST

Masterlist

Bedlam (For context)

Warm

Pairing: John Deacon x reader

Word count: 848

Warnings: none

Summary: John is a shy ball of sunshine and he asks you out on a date

You opened your eyes, taking in a deep breath, you were squeezed between two of your tallest roommates. You had a sleepover in the guestroom last night, thus the situation. You carefully sat up, trying not to wake anyone up. Removing your comforters and throwing it over Brian's feet (his blanket didn't reach his feet because he's so freaking tall). You tiptoed toward the bathroom, washed up, barely letting the water run so you don't make too much noise.

You jumped violently, letting out a loud gasp when you opened the door and saw John waiting outside, bedheads sticking out everywhere his hair.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He said quietly, looking really guilty. "It's okay, just got scared." You said breathlessly, "Morning, John." You added, stepping out the bathroom and letting him go in after you, "Good morning, y/n." He smiled back before closing the bathroom door.

You walked to your room and fixed your hair, did your usual morning routine before walking out to the kitchen where John was already eating some toasts. "That's new. Where's your cheese?" You asked, noticing the butter on the slices of bread. He sighed, "I guess Freddie forgot to buy last night." He replied with a frown, he picked up a slice and spread some butter on it, holding it out to you, "Want some?"

You smiled and sat beside him, "Thanks." You said, taking it. "Can I make you tea?" He asked, getting up from his seat and to the cupboards.

"I think milk's alright for now." You said and he nodded, taking a glass out and filling it with milk.

You talked randomly for a bit while you two finished up eating. The other three were still sound asleep so you had to be really quiet.

"Do you wanna go to the rooftop with me?" You asked. You've just come out of your room to grab a sweater. "Of course." He said with a smile.

Your walk up the stairs was quiet, almost awkward, but you tried not to let it show. You don't know why but you're comfortable just being all goofy and loud around the other three but when it comes to John, you're so conscious with everything you say. You overthink what he's going to think about you, what his opinions are, his mood, everything. Maybe because John was the least talkative out of the four.

Despite that, he had a great sense of humour which you always really liked and he would just sometimes randomly throw them out without context. He's so random and calm and comforting.

When you got to the roof, you stretched your arms, taking in a deep breath before leaning against the parapet of the roof. The sun was rising and the rays were so warm against your face. You turned to John who was also leaning comfortably. A smile that was warmer than the sun was etched on his face.

"What?" You asked with a nervous chuckle. He shook his head, his smile growing bigger. "What?" You asked again, your chuckle more nervous, you were feeling conscious again.

"Nothing, you just look really happy, so I'm happy." He said sweetly. You gave him a shy smile, staring at him for a bit. The sun was highlighting his eyes, you've never seen them this close before. They were beautiful. You thought they were just plain grey but there were actually streaks of green in them.

It was his time to feel conscious, he let out a nervous chuckle, "What? Are you getting back at me?"

You laughed, shaking your head, "No, I actually, genuinely love your eyes. They're beautiful."

His face flushed slightly red and you couldn't help but smile. "You — you should take a look in the mirror," he stammered, looking down on his fidgeting hands and then back up at you, "yours are the prettiest I've ever seen."

You laughed lightly with an eyeroll, "You're just saying that."

"Of course, not. I mean it really." He said sincerely.

You didn't say anything back, you just smiled at him and then looked down at the road, there were not that much cars yet so the morning was peaceful so far.

"Y/n." John called and you brought your gaze and focus back to him, "Yes?"

"Can we talk?"

"Aren't we talking now?" You asked with a laugh. "Yes, but I mean, uhm... talk uhm... properly. Over... dinner? Uhm... date?" He bit his lip, his head tilted slightly, and his eyes were refusing to look at you.

You stared at him in surprise. He looked adorable and shy and flustered and it was the first time he's ever spoken with so much uncertainty. "John!" You shouted, making him jump, "Are you — did you — did you just ask me out on a date?"

"I — uhm — yes." He said shyly. You screamed excitedly pulling him in a hug, "YES. WE CAN HAVE DINNER!" You answered, "I HAVE TO TELL FREDDIE!" You shouted after breaking the hug, running back into the the apartment building.

"No wait, y/n —" He tried to call you but you were already rushing down the stairs, he sighed, "They're going to spend the whole day teasing me about this but alright." He said, before following you in.

-End-

That's two Johns I've written about today. Gosh. I'm trying to clear my inbox sooOOO

P.S - will add the keep reading next time. If you're a regular on my blog, you probably expected that now.

[spreadyovrwings]

I Could Be Handy

You meet John Deacon through your friend Roger after you complain about your radio needing fixing. Soon you find yourself coming up with excuses to keep him coming back again, and again, and again.

Pairing: John Deacon x (f) reader

Warnings: Smut, you know how it is

//

Post-university life hadn’t been kind to you. Perhaps that was an exaggeration but some days, you just felt like sitting in a dark room with your record player, or giving up altogether, packing your bags and heading home. 

You were rather proud of yourself at first, being able to hold down a reasonably steady job and keep up a reasonably nice flat, it was a twenty-something year old’s dream. But the novelty wore off eventually, and now your cute little flat felt poky and the city was noisy at night. 

You and your roommate passed like ships in the night, only seeing each other at dinner before she went out to start her shift at the hospital, or at breakfast when she came home, too exhausted from nursing to hold a real conversation.

You’d been managing fairly well despite the dodgy landlord and the surprising feeling of loneliness you thought was odd living in such a bustling city. 

The straw that broke the camel’s back was your little radio breaking, one of your most cherished possessions. You'd brought it with you from home, one of the only connections to your childhood that you had with you. It had kept you company on lonely nights and even though you knew it was stupid, it was enough to bring you to tears.

You were complaining about it one night in the pub. Poor Roger had to sit and listen to you whine for almost twenty minutes before he finally made a suggestion.

“I’ve got a mate could probably sort that for you.”

You narrowed your eyes dubiously over the rim of your glass. You’d known Roger since university and he was one of your only friends, though sometimes you questioned why. He was lovely, but cheeky and prone to flirting with you, which you didn’t mind but it wasn’t always constructive.

“What does Freddie know about fixing radios?”

Roger scowled.

“I have more than one friend.”

“Yeah, me.”

“Shove off.”

“Brian, then.”

Roger sighed, starting to wonder why he even bothered.

“His name’s John.”

“He’s your bassist, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, and?”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink.

“Just think it’s funny that all your mates are in your band.”

Roger dug his fingers into the little dish of peanuts between you and flicked one at your face.

“You want his help or not?”

You grunted as the nut bounced off your nose and landed somewhere near the barman, who gave you a dark look. 

Grumbling, you flicked it away, resigning yourself to the idea of this stranger handling your most prized possession, and worse, having to fork out the money for it. It was a bad week made worse. You couldn’t bear the thought of a stranger in your flat, especially in the state it was in at the moment, but you supposed you had no other choice.

“You sure he can do it?”

You hadn’t met their new bassist yet, though you’d heard a lot about him. Roger had come over raving one night, excited because they’d finally found an excellent musician whose personality and style also fit theirs.

It’d been a long time since you saw Queen play live, not since just after uni, so you hadn’t seen them as a complete set. You were the proud owner of their first two albums, so you supposed you’d seen John’s face before, even if it was half in shadow, but other than that, you knew nothing about him.

Roger swirled the last of the foam around the bottom of his pint glass, watching the bubbles slide over each other for a moment before he ordered you both another drink with a flick of his wrist.

“He did electrical engineering at uni. Dead good with that sort of thing. He made his own amp. I’ll bring him round, shall I?”

/

You were trying to make lunch when there was a loud knock at the door. You sighed, letting your knife clatter against the counter with a little more force than necessary, hoping that Roger would somehow hear it from out in the hall and know that you were cross with him.

It was Saturday, the only day that Roger and his friend were free to come over, and you’d been waiting all morning for them. 

When Roger told you that John had agreed and they’d be over at the weekend, you’d complained. You couldn’t wait around all day for him and a boy that you didn’t even know. But Roger quickly reminded you that you wouldn’t have any plans anyway and as much as you hated to admit it, the bastard was right.

Roger grinned when you opened the door, clearly enjoying the dark look on your face. You didn’t mind. In fact, you barely noticed him. You were too busy staring at the boy next to him.

Roger was pretty. He was proud of it, all soft features and china-blue eyes. His friend Freddie, too, was pretty, with his fantastic, almost feline features, always swathed in shimmering colours like a dragonfly’s wing. Brian’s profile could make any sculptor gasp, his voice soft and gentle. 

But John, John was beautiful. You’d never seen a boy so beautiful.

“Hi,” you murmured, your mind going completely blank.

John smiled at you, a shy smile but bright, one that made little creases appear by his eyes.

“Hi,” he said, and his smile grew.

There was a gap between his teeth. It was fucking resplendent.

“Hello, darlin’,” Roger pushed his sunglasses up into his hair and grinned at you. “Kettle on?”

He barged past you into the flat like he always did. Roger was over so often, this flat was almost his second home, much to your chagrin. It was difficult to wallow in self-pity when Roger Taylor was sprawled out on your sofa, ciggie in one hand and drink in the other, talking about the new album he’d bought in his lovely raspy voice.

His shoulder bumping against yours was enough to wake you up. You gave John a wobbly sort of smile, trying to regain all of your scattered senses, but then he shyly brushed at his nose with his thumb, and you lost them all again.

“Come in.” You stepped aside, sweeping your arm out to invite him in. “Make yourself at home. Roger does.”

John thanked you quietly. He stood in the centre of your living room, unlike Roger, who had walked right into the kitchen and was clattering around with something.

You watched John look around with careful curiosity, not wanting to appear like he was being nosey but obviously interested in your hopefully charmingly messy flat.

“Mine’s two sugars, Rog.”

John nodded, giving you another lovely crinkly-eyed smile that made you feel a little giddy.

“And mine.”

He looked down at the carpet, then took his hands out of his pockets and tucked some of his long hair back over his shoulder. Dark brown and wavy, it framed his lovely face. His fingers were long, he was wearing a ring. 

Stop staring at his hands!

You glanced into the kitchen and saw Roger helping himself to the sandwich you’d been making. You didn’t mind. You were too busy trying to figure out exactly what colour John’s eyes were. 

You thought about Freddie’s palette, he’d shown it to you one day when you were round his and Roger’s flat. He used it to help him design clothes and for his paintings. You tried to remember the darker hues in the corner. 

Forest green, perhaps?

You chewed the side of your thumbnail, waiting for John to say something, but he didn’t. Roger was humming happily to himself in the kitchen as he clinked mugs together and carelessly flung the teaspoon into the sink. Finally, the silence became too awful and you had to say something.

“It’s nice to meet you at last. Rog talks about you all the time. Can’t believe it’s taken this long.”

John appeared to find it difficult to hold your gaze for too long. Unlike Roger, who oozed self-confidence, often to a fault, his friend seemed shy, quiet, and it made your heart melt. 

Sage? Fern? Tea leaves?

“He talks about you too. Feels like we’ve already met.”

You beamed at him. That was very sweet. John’s voice was so lovely, so gentle and lilting, you could hear his smile in it. 

You knew your cheeks must be a little pink. You just prayed Roger hadn’t told him anything too embarrassing about you, or recalled any stories of you being an idiot, inebriated or otherwise. 

But there’s grey in there too. Green and grey. Warmth and intelligence at the same time. Had they invented a colour as pretty as that?

“You enjoying being in the band?”

“Yeah, yes, they’re-”

Roger stuck his head out of the kitchen door.

“Oi, where’s your biscuits, love?”

“We ain’t got any.”

He grumbled and went back into the kitchen, and you gave John an apologetic smile, though he seemed unfazed by your arguing. 

You and Roger had always been at each other’s throats, it was just how you communicated. It hid just how much you really cared about each other, not that either of you would ever admit that.

“How long have you been playing?”

You could tell he was shy, so you didn’t want to force him if he wasn’t comfortable, but if you could help him relax, maybe he’d be happy to talk more. John had such a gorgeous voice, you’d only heard him speak a few words but you knew you could very easily listen to him all day.

“Few years. I was in this other band but gave it up when we all went off to uni.”

You nodded in Roger’s direction.

“I hope they’re nice to you. I know they can be a bit rowdy.”

“I’m always nice!” Roger said, just as you decided exactly what John’s eyes were, beautiful.

“Don’t let them talk over you, alright? You’ve got just as much say as they do.”

“I’ll try.”

You shared a smile, one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle again. Fuck.

It was almost a relief when Roger walked between you to flop down on the sofa, pushing a cup of tea into John’s hands as he passed.

“Where’s mine?”

“I’ve only got two hands, don’t I! ‘s bad enough I had to make my own in the first place, we’re your guests.”

“So this radio?” John said quickly before another argument started.

You went and grabbed it from your room, collecting your tea from the kitchen on the way back. You passed your little radio over with a tentativeness that John must have sensed because he held it with great care, turning it over in his big hands.

“It’s probably my fault. I was fiddling with it but now I can’t catch a frequency. It’d be great if you could fix it, I really can’t afford a new one right now.”

“I’ll have a go.”

He sat down in the armchair, switching your radio on. It immediately whined and crackled, and his little displeased frown made your heart flutter.

“Can I watch? I don’t wanna distract you but it’d be good to know for next time. Not that I could do any of this.”

John looked surprised that you’d asked. He glanced at Roger but he was fiddling with his necklaces, not paying the least bit of attention.

“‘Course you can,” John slipped off the armchair and sat on the carpet with his long legs crossed. “It's easy. I’ll show you.”

You sat down beside him while he propped up the radio on the coffee table. Your hand accidentally brushed his thigh as you leaned closer and you felt your face heat up. You apologised but John just smiled that shy, delicious smile again, while you tried to forget the feeling of his velvet trousers under your fingers and the warmth of his strong thigh.

If Roger noticed you practically salivate when John pulled a little screwdriver from his jacket pocket, he didn’t say anything, which you were incredibly grateful for. You’d always had a thing for engineers, people who were good with their hands, and John Deacon fit the type.

You watched his long fingers as he fiddled with the dials and screws, hardly listening as he tried to explain what he was doing. He smelt so good, it was all you could think about, like boy, and cigarette smoke, and the mints he must eat afterward to take away the taste, and whatever it was in his shampoo, maybe oranges or-

You jumped when your radio suddenly sprang to life. You missed John’s pleased, proud little smile, but Roger certainly didn’t miss the way he looked at you when you gasped happily and thanked him in an excited rush.

You turned it off and on again a few times, checking that it was all working, while John watched on confidently, sipping his tea.

“Well, either you’re a genius or I’m stupider than I thought,” you laughed, wondering how on earth he’d been able to fix it so quickly when you’d been fiddling with it for weeks.

“You’re not stupid.”

For the first time since he came in, John held your gaze and kept it. It made you forget where you were for a few moments, which was a bit embarrassing. He shifted and his leg brushed your fingers again, the velvet so soft under your hand, you barely resisted the urge to smooth it all the way up his thigh.

“So you must be a genius.”

“Well...”

“Oh, where’s all that sweet modesty gone?”

Still reeling from being called ‘sweet’, John shrugged.

“I’m modest about most things,” he smiled. “But I am a bit of a genius, yeah.”

Roger groaned, breaking the tangible tension between you. He kicked out his feet, swinging his legs off the sofa and leaving his empty cup on the coffee table in one smooth movement.

“Oi, stop flirting, we’ve gotta go.”

Roger kissed the top of your head, just dodging out of the way as you swung for his knees. You didn’t look at John, just praying he couldn’t see how pink your face was.

“Bye, love.”

“Yeah, bye, Rog.”

You showed them to the door, radio in hand, still marvelling at how quickly he’d got it to work.

Roger waved at you over his shoulder. Your goodbyes were always brief, you knew you’d be seeing each other again soon so you never bothered with anything more than a quick kiss and a short word.

Roger was already halfway to the stairs but John hung back, hovering in the doorway. He thumbed at his nose again, you wondered if he always did it when he was nervous.

“It was nice meeting you, John,” you offered when he still didn’t say anything.

He looked almost relieved that you’d spoken first, he was still floundering for something to say.

“You too.”

John realised he was still holding his cup of tea. He hadn’t had a chance to finish it, his visit was so brief. He handed it to you, then immediately put his hands in his jacket pockets.

“It should be fine now but if it gives you any more trouble-”

Once again, you were interrupted by Roger, yelling at the top of his voice from the stairwell.

“Deaky! If we’re late to rehearsal, I’m telling Brian it was cos you were trying to pull!”

John gave you a wry smile and you laughed softly.

“See you later.”

“Thanks again.”

He gave you one last gorgeous smile, one last look at those lovely creases around his eyes, and then he was gone, hurrying after Roger, who was still calling his name.

You shut the door, turning your radio over in your hands, beaming.

“Deaky,” you murmured, and your smile grew.

/

It was always easy to find Roger in a pub. He was usually in the corner and usually smoking, but what made it easy was that he was usually with Brian. You could spot those curls from a mile away. 

Weaving through the crowds, avoiding elbows and drinks and stray darts, you reached their table and dumped your bag down so hard that it made the boys jump.

“I need John’s number.”

Roger had almost spilled his beer all over himself and was still trying to mop up the foam from his jacket lapel when he asked,

“John who?”

You slapped his arm, not hard at all, but Roger still yelped and finally put his drink down before he lost any more of it. 

“John Deacon. The boy in your band.”

“The man. We’re men.”

“Roger-”

“I’ve got hair on me chest an’ everything.”

“I’ve seen your chest and no you haven’t.”

While Brian laughed, Roger narrowed his eyes at you, still rubbing his arm bitterly  

“I thought you needed a favour.”

“I need a number.”

“What’s wrong?” Brian asked. “Did he do a bad job?”

“No, he was great, that’s the point.”

“What is?”

“He’s good at fixing things and-”

Roger raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, is he now.”

“And my heating’s gone,” you pressed on, ignoring his insinuation. 

You’d just got home from work, desperate for a shower and a lie down, preferably with your new book and several glasses of wine, but when you stepped into the shower, the water was so cold, your shriek almost shattered the mirror.

You’d been trying to get hold of your landlord all afternoon and when he finally answered, he said he wouldn’t be able to get anyone to take a look at it till the end of the week. You couldn’t afford to hire anyone yourself, and John Deacon had such lovely eyes...

Roger pushed back his chair, offering you his seat while he went to the bar to get another drink. 

“We’re seeing him later, I’ll tell him to pop by. Don’t make him late for rehearsal tomorrow.”

Brian tactfully hid his smile behind his glass as you swung for Roger again but he was already out of reach, anticipating your reaction.

Against your better judgement, you did let your mind wander to John, as it had many times in the week since you’d last seen him. 

There was something so enrapturing about him, even the way he moved was fascinating, the way his clever eyes swept around the room, his soft curly hair so carefully arranged. He was gorgeous from the pretty little stars on his silk shirt to the suede boots that made him even taller than he already was.

Yes, you wanted to see him again, you wanted to see more of him, all of him, but you didn’t tell the boys that, you wouldn’t survive the humiliation of them knowing you had a crush, especially on their sweet, shy bass player. The thought made you smile as Roger came back to the table with a drink for you too.

“Do you think he ever wears those overalls you see mechanics in?”

Roger pressed his lips together, disappointed but not surprised. 

“Easy, tiger.”

/

It was late when the doorbell rang. 

Your roommate had left for work hours ago, downcast because she couldn’t have a shower. You’d assured her that you’d arranged for someone to sort it but you didn’t even know that John could fix your boiler, and now it was so late and Roger still hadn’t called, you weren’t sure that he was coming.

When the bell finally rang, you were glad that you’d decided against getting into your pyjamas, but as you rushed to answer the door, running all the way through your flat from your bedroom, you remembered you’d already taken your makeup off and swore under your breath just before you opened the door.

John was just as breathtaking as you remembered. You’d tried to persuade yourself that the image of him you’d formed in your head must be a romanticised ghost of the boy who sat cross-legged on your carpet, fixing something that meant so much to you. But no, he really was beautiful, and it took you a moment to get your head around it before you finally spoke.

“Thanks for coming so quick.”

You stepped aside, letting him in, almost swooning when you saw the tool bag he carried. You’d never known a boy to be so manly and so pretty at the same time, it was almost dizzying.

“Rog said your heating’s gone.”

“I dunno if you know anything about it but you’re the only person I can ask.”

“What about your landlord?”

“Last time I told him something needed fixing he told me he’d sort it and…”

You pulled a face and John laughed softly, nodding to say he understood only too well.

“I’ll take a look.”

You showed him the boiler, tucked between the cupboards in your kitchen. You couldn’t make head nor tail of it, and had probably made everything much worse by pressing every button you could find, wishing and praying that some combination would make it flicker into life but with no luck. 

You chewed your lip as John popped open a little panel on the front of the boiler you didn’t even know was there. 

You had to jump up to reach it, resting your knees on the counter. John was so tall, he hardly had to reach at all, although it did make the front of his shirt ride up a little and before you forced yourself to look away, you let your gaze travel over his stomach, lingering on the little trail of hair that led below the hem of his trousers. 

You thought about kissing his soft skin, wondering if it would make him gasp or even moan, but then John made a little thoughtful noise and you looked away, swallowing hard.

“How’s the band?” you asked, trying to distract yourself. “Still holding your nerve?”

John laughed softly. It was a really lovely laugh. Of course it was. Fuck’s sake.

“Good. They still argue like mad but we’ve got a lot of ideas down. Been pretty productive recently, actually. We should have a new album soon. There, that should do it!” 

He stepped back and you looked up, surprised, just in time to see the little flame burst into life and the lights switch to orange. The boiler clunked and hummed, which you knew meant it had begun to heat the water. Just like your little radio, it had only taken him a few minutes to fix, and yet they meant so much to you.

You were so busy gawping at the boiler, you didn’t notice John take a pen from the sideboard and a scrap of paper out of his jeans pocket until it was right under your nose. 

“Here.”

You gave him a rueful smile, taking the slip of paper. Your heart somersaulted as your fingers brushed his.

“‘s this an invoice?”

“My number. Just in case you have anything else that needs taking a look at.”

He punctuated his words with a smile that started off small and grew until he covered his mouth with his hand, the one with the onyx ring on his fourth finger. You wondered whether he was just being polite or if he’d made a habit of covering his teeth. You hoped it was the former, you adored that little gap, but it was a crime to cover such a beautiful smile either way.

“Can I get you a drink? Or something to eat? My way of thanking you,” you asked, suddenly feeling brave.

“I should be getting home.”

John smiled gently but his eyes were tired, and you realised too late that the poor boy had been at work all day, then at a band meeting, before he crossed London in the middle of the night to help a girl he’d only just met.

He glanced back into your living room where your glass of wine and your book were still where you’d left them.

“I don’t wanna disrupt your evening.”

There hadn’t been much chance of him agreeing to stay, you knew you weren’t offering much, but you liked having him around and you were so lonely in your cold flat. John Deacon had made it a little warmer the moment he walked through the door, long before he fixed the boiler. 

Your disappointment must have flickered across your face, though you tried to keep it hidden. John reached out and gently brushed his fingertips against the back of your hand. It was hardly anything but it made you meet his gaze.

“Another time, though?” he asked, and that fantastic, eye-crinkling smile was back.

The skin on the back of your hand tingled. Such a gentle touch and yet it felt more powerful than if he’d actually held it. You’d never wanted to kiss anyone so desperately in all your life.

“Another time,” you said.

John beamed.

/

You stuck to your word. Sort of.

After John turned you down, your confidence had taken a bit of a hit, so instead of just asking him out like a normal person, you had turned to other means.

You never thought you’d be grateful for your light fitting suddenly sparking and short-circuiting, but seeing John outside your door with his tool bag again made your heart flutter so outrageously, it made it the best thing to happen to you all week. 

That was until he shrugged off his jacket and you saw he was wearing a T-shirt, and you got to see his bare arms for the first time, then that was the best thing to happen to you all week.

It was succeeded when John dragged your coffee table out of the way to make room for a chair from the kitchen, and you got a fantastic view of his arms as they flexed, all slim lines and wiry strength. 

John stepped up on the chair, gently asking if you could pass things up to him, and you hardly heard him because now his arse was at eye-level, and every single thought left your head. That was the best thing to happen to you all year.

But then two weeks went by and you didn’t see him. You saw poor Roger almost every day and he had to sit and listen to you not-so-subtly ask after John, always managing to bring the conversation back around to him until Roger got huffy and suggested, in a tone that suggested he was teetering on the edge of sanity, that you should just call him. 

That stumped you. You hadn’t thought of that.

When you got home, you realised you had no idea where you’d left his number. You searched the flat high and low, trying to keep quiet because your roommate had a rare day off and had chosen to celebrate by sleeping.

Finally, you remembered you’d tucked it into the back pocket of your jeans. It took you a while but eventually, you found the pair you were wearing that day. They’d been washed since then and the slip of paper John scribbled on was a little smudged but thankfully, the numbers were still legible. 

You went to grab the phone but stopped before you dialled. What were you going to say? You put the handset back down and paced the living room, spinning the scrap of paper between your fingers.

Usually, you were fairly good at this. Asking people out was easy enough, you might’ve done it already if John weren’t quite so… John. 

You weren’t sure what it was about him, what it was about John that made him so enticing but so frightening. You’d never been so flustered by a boy before, he could make you forget your own name with just a smile, and when he got a shock and stuck his finger in his mouth, groaning crossly, you genuinely thought you might pass out. 

Something about him just made you panic. You could feel it now, all your rationality slowly slipping away. God, his fingers…

There was only one thing for it. You had to get him to come back to the flat somehow and since asking him if he wanted to catch a film or get dinner was out of the question, and getting Roger to help you wasn’t even an option worth considering, you had to build up some sort of rapport until you felt brave enough to ask him out, or die, whichever came first. 

Yes, that was a good plan. Was it? Who cares. You’d already made up your mind and no one was around to stop you. 

You picked up the phone again, hesitated, then dialled the number.

/

John became an almost weekly visitor after that. It was so strange, things just seemed to keep breaking in the flat. Bizarre.

In your defence, you did have genuine excuses at first. Your washing machine had always made a funny noise on certain settings and the tap in your bathroom had dripped all night long ever since you moved in. 

John fixed both of them with ease, along with a few other little jobs, even things he warned you he didn’t know all that much about. 

When you called about your awful television signal, he actually bought a manual with him that he borrowed from someone at work. He flicked through it as he worked, humming softly to himself, and it was so endearing, you almost kissed him right there and then.

After weeks of insisting, he finally began to accept cups of tea and the odd biscuit. Soon you had him eating lunch, just a sandwich or two. You’d say he was too skinny and he needed to build up his strength if he was going to be a world-famous rock star, and he’d laugh and say ‘fine, fine’ and let you bring him something to eat. 

Often, you ended up sitting on the floor of the living room, or the kitchen, eating together, laughing as he tried to show you what he was up to. You actually began to pick up a few things and could sometimes guess what he would do next, which would always make him beam with pride.

As the weeks went by, though, you had to get a little creative. You began to invent reasons for him to come over. You knew it was crazy, but asking John out on a date still felt terrifying, and so long as Roger never found out, it would be fine.

A couple of months after you first met, the speaker in your record player suddenly began to make a funny noise. Then it was the clock on the mantelpiece, the hoover, the cooker, all of which were mysteriously fine when John looked them over. 

You supposed after a few weeks, he must’ve guessed what you were doing, because even though everything seemed to be working fine, John always stayed to make sure. Perhaps he liked having you around too.

He began to stay later and later as the routine that you’d fallen into started to shift. John used to do his repairs, turn down your offer to pay him for his work, then go home. He still wouldn’t let you pay him, but he did accept dinner, or an invitation to watch the television until the programmes stopped, or play cards, or Scrabble, anything to keep him there and beat back the horrible loneliness that you’d been battling with.

He was still so sweet and so gentle, intelligent without ever showing off, and his shyness began to peel away the more time you spent together, so now you knew he had a surprisingly wicked sense of humour, and could be just as rowdy as his bandmates, given the chance. You’d never wanted anyone so desperately in all your life.

Sitting beside him on the sofa was almost torturous. Watching the television in comfortable silence, you somehow always ended up sitting right next to each other. Sometimes his arm would rest along the back of the sofa, his fingers just brushing your shoulder, and you knew with one gentle touch, he could pull you against his chest and hold you, if he wanted to.

That night, his thigh pressing against yours was extraordinary and awful at the same time. You’d missed half the programme you were watching because all you could think about was how warm he was, how gorgeous his stupid, long legs were, and how easy it would be to just slip into his lap and roll your hips against his, your hands in his hair, making him moan into your mouth.

It was enough to make you sweat but you couldn’t seem to pull yourself away from him, especially when John began to absent-mindedly circle the tip of his index finger against your shoulder. 

You looked up at him. He had his eyes on the telly but his finger was still circling and circling. Against your better judgment, you thought about John’s long fingers slipping past the band of your underwear, curling into you, still circling and circling but now around your clit as you pressed your face into his neck, gasping his name, whining for more. 

You pressed your thighs together, shifting in your seat. It made him look down at you. John seemed to realise what he was doing and stopped, but his face was very close to yours now. He held your gaze, then his pretty eyes fell to your lips. You held your breath. 

John looked up again. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, dragging the skin, and you almost moaned, wishing you could do that for him. 

John opened his mouth but seemed to change his mind and shut it again. He looked away, then pulled his arm back and checked his watch. He gave you a sad smile and said he should be getting home.

/

The next night in the pub, Roger practically fell into the seat beside you. 

“Listen, I don’t know what you’ve done to John but can you just ask him out?”

Eyes wide, you shook your head, talking through a mouthful of chips.

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s written a song. It’s his first one.”

“Oh, good for him!”

“You haven’t bloody heard it yet.”

 You frowned, confused.

“What’s it called?”

/

You didn’t see John for almost a month after that. You worried you’d done something wrong, the moment on the couch sprang to mind, but when Roger called after a long day at the studio, he reassured you that they’d just been rushed off their feet lately getting the new album out.

He brought round a copy a few days later, spinning it proudly between his fingers. ‘Sheer Heart Attack’ was fantastic, you loved every track, but you almost dropped the album the second Roger handed it over.

He promised he had no say on the cover, their photographer just thought it would be eye-catching. You had to agree. It would certainly stand out on the shelves, you just weren’t expecting to see John gazing up at you with his shirt open, eyes dark, covered in a sheen of sweat. Roger grinned at the look on your face as if to say ‘you’re welcome’.

You wanted to ask if John had mentioned you at all but thought that was taking things a bit too far. Roger didn’t bring him up at all after that, and you wondered if something really had gone wrong and you just hadn’t cottoned on yet. But no, you were just being paranoid. Or were you? Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Through some stroke of luck disguised as tragedy, a week later, your roommate woke you up from your nap, shrieking at the top of her voice because there was filthy water pouring out of the kitchen sink. You stood there in horror, staring at the awful mess until you both snapped out of it.

Between you, you managed to stop the water flowing but your kitchen floor was swamped. Your roommate offered to stay and help clean up but you let her go, her shift would be starting soon and it’s not like you had anything else on. Not your best Friday night ever, but certainly not your worst.

You managed to get the kitchen tidied with the phone wedged between your shoulder and your ear, trying to get ahold of your landlord, but there was no answer. With a resigned sigh and a glance at the sofa, you pulled out that precious slip of paper.

When John arrived just half an hour later, he looked so good, it actually stumped you for several moments. You thanked God that Roger wasn’t with him, there would be endless jokes about never seeing you having trouble talking before, and then he would pick at you all evening, asking what on earth could have made you so speechless.

“Oh,” you said, which was stupid. John gave you a politely confused smile and you shook your head. “Sorry. You look nice. Are you on your way out?”

He looked more than nice, he looked fucking delicious. From his white silk shirt, unbuttoned almost to his navel, to his tight trousers and black and white platform shoes, John looked absolutely fantastic.

You practically had to wipe the drool from your mouth as you took him in, the antagonising dusting of hair on his chest, the silk jacket, the faint swipe of eyeliner. He looked incredible.

You were so busy just taking him in, you missed John’s faint blush, feeling suddenly very small under your wandering gaze despite being so much taller than you. No one had ever looked at him so hungrily and it made his tight trousers just that little bit more restrictive.

“We’ve got a gig tonight.”

That snapped you out of it. You must’ve looked as appalled as you felt because John laughed softly.

“Then what are you doing here?” You tried to shoo him back out into the hall. “Forget me, you should go!”

“It’s okay,” John laughed again. “I’ve got a few hours yet. I’m always early.”

You remembered what Roger has said about his new song, track ten, and quietly nodded.

He hadn’t mentioned what happened the last time he was here, how close you came to... Well, who knows? John didn’t seem uncomfortable at all. Maybe he’d forgotten all about it, which was fine, that was completely fine, you certainly hadn’t been obsessing over it for weeks, not at all, nope. 

You led him through to the kitchen. Thankfully you’d mopped up the floor, it was embarrassing enough that you had to call him over again, you didn’t want your flat to seem off-putting.

You explained what happened as best you could, you were still a little distracted by how good he looked. John put his tool bag down and you had to look away. His arse in those trousers was just divine, but then he rolled the cuffs of his sleeves up a little, his long fingers fiddling with the cuffs, and you swore you felt a rush of heat between your thighs.

John caught you looking again. He gave you a small smile, his brows lowered, questioning. You knew you weren’t getting out of it this time.

“You look good,” you said. “That’s a nice suit.”

John bashfully looked back at his noncompliant cuffs, his smile spreading wide enough that you caught a glimpse of the little gap between his teeth.

“Thanks. Freddie knows this girl, a stylist. She’s great, she’s got all these mad ideas, but she toned it down for me.”

He still couldn’t get his sleeves to roll up, the silk was too slippery, the fit too tight, and you always made him a little stumbly and nervous, so in the end, he just gave up.

You felt a twinge of sympathy and gently put your hands over his.

“Here,” you laughed. “Let me take your jacket.”

Your hands hovered by his lapels until he smiled and nodded, giving you permission, and you gently tugged his jacket from his shoulders, leaving him in just the silk shirt.

Your fingers brushed against the material as you pulled away. The silk was so fine, it felt almost like water against your skin. Without thinking about it, you let your fingers graze over his chest again, mesmerised by the feeling and the smell of John’s cologne.

Too late, you realised what you’d done. You looked up, face flushed, to find John watching you intently. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard before breaking into a shy grin.

“I should-”

“Yeah.”

It didn’t take John long to find the source of the problem. He did try to explain it to you, something to do with the pipes beneath your sink, but you were so busy wondering if his hair was as soft as it looked that you barely took any of it in.

When he stood up and proudly patted the sink, you could’ve cried at the gorgeous, self-satisfied smile on his face.

“All done! Need me for anything else?”

“No, that’s all this time. Thanks, John.”

You were just about to let him go when a thought struck you. You didn’t want to make him late but you couldn’t let John leave without congratulating him on the new album.

“Oh, I almost forgot!”

You hurried over to the record player and slipped ‘Sheer Heart Attack’ out from your collection, holding it up for him to see.

“It’s amazing, John. My favourite one yet.”

John laughed softly as he pulled his jacket back on, pressing his tongue against the gap between his teeth.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“You should be really proud of yourself. I can’t believe my handyman is famous!”

You laughed, looking down at the album, just brimming with pride. But when you looked up at John again, his smile had faded. Then you realised what you’d said and you felt your face pale. 

You tried to explain, to take it back, but once again, John looked at his watch, gave you a paper-thin smile, and said that he had to go.

The sound of the door softly clicking shut behind him echoed through the empty flat. You sat down on the edge of the sofa, feeling stupid and selfish and ridiculous. It was your loneliest night yet.

/

A dark cloud hung above your head for the rest of the week. You couldn’t believe you’d spoken so carelessly. But then, maybe you weren’t far from the truth. You had treated John like your handyman. The only reason you called him was when you needed something. You were surprised he hadn’t got fed up with you sooner. 

You groaned, pressing your hands over your face, miserable and confused and longing for the boy with the pretty green eyes. You’d been a complete arsehole. Instead of just being a grown-up and asking John out for a drink, you’d turned him into some kind of errand boy.

Perhaps what hurt the most was that John seemed to like you too, why else would he stay every time? God, that sweet boy. He always came when you called, in spite of everything.

Once again you found yourself complaining about it in the pub to Roger, drowning your sorrows in the drink he’d bought you, and once again, poor Roger knew he had to step in.

The knock at your door the next evening shouldn’t have surprised you, not after the delighted spark you’d seen flash in Roger’s eyes when you told him you wished you could just make things right.

You sighed, dragging yourself off the sofa, and went to see who on earth it could be at this hour. As you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat, and you practically choked on the name that had been circling your head for months. 

“John.”

He looked up at you as the door opened. He had the corner of his thumb between his teeth but dropped his hand the second he saw you. John gave you his usual broad smile but it was tinged with nerves.

“Roger told me to come round but he wouldn’t say why. Are you okay?” 

He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, his long fingers fidgeting at his sides. You wondered how it could be possible that you could fall in love with someone all over again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I- Come in, come in.”

You ushered him inside, leaning back against the door for a moment whilst you tried to catch your breath and get your bearings.

John stood in the middle of your living room, just like he did the very first time he came over. He looked good tonight. Of course he did, he always looked good, but somehow he looked even better than usual which was honestly a little unfair.

“I told Roger I wanted to talk to you,” You gave him a weak smile. “He’s a lot more proactive than me.”

“What did you wanna talk to me about?” 

By the door stood a little table where your key dish lived beside a bedraggled looking pot plant. Tonight, wedged beneath your keys, was a small bundle of folded notes. You scooped the money into your hands, thumbing through it as you moved towards John.

“I don’t earn very much but me and my roommate managed to scrape together, er...”

You realised you hadn’t actually counted how much you’d gathered together, you didn’t think you’d be seeing him so soon, but you quickly gave up, too flustered to try.

“Well, I dunno, but it should be enough to cover everything.”

You held out the money but John didn’t even glance at it. Instead, he gave you a small smile.

“You don’t have to pay me.”

You sighed, stepping closer.

“You’ve done so much for me, John.”

“Friends and family discount.”

“At least let me do something.”

“It’s fine!” John laughed, gently pushing your hand away. “It’s just nice being with you.”

You looked at each other for a moment, his words hanging between you, tethering you together. Suddenly the thought of moving away from him felt impossible, and so awful, it wasn’t even worth imagining. It wasn’t that you felt stuck to the floor but if you were to move, it would have to be forwards, towards John.

He gave you a bashful sort of smile and brushed at his nose, then scratched the back of his head, before finally deciding to just put his hands in his pockets. You wondered if it was the situation that was making him shy, or you.

You shoved the money into your back pocket. John was never going to accept it but you’d just slip it into his jacket when he wasn’t looking, or give it to Roger to pass on.

“Well, I’m very grateful,” you said, delighted by the rosy pink colour of his cheeks.

John bashfully bit his bottom lip but he was smiling so wide, you had to watch as he dragged it between his teeth until he was grinning at you, then down at the floor. You realised you were smiling too.

You offered him a cup of tea, testing the waters, wondering if he’d accept, hoping that he’d stay. John didn’t glance at his watch, he didn’t hesitate or look as if you’d caught him on the back foot. He just smiled, said that would be nice, and followed you into the kitchen.

While you waited for the water to boil, you switched on your radio, the one John had so kindly fixed for you. He beamed as music filled the room and you talked for a little while about the band, what you liked to listen to and what he liked to play. It was just like you were before things got tricky.

Feeling brave now that the air had cleared, you thought it might be safe to bring up what had been bothering you for the past week. 

You poured water into John’s mug, keeping your back to him whilst you steeled your nerves, all too aware of how close he was. You could feel him even though you weren’t touching, a magnetic pull, almost like your hair could stand on end if he moved even an inch nearer.

“John, what I said about having a famous handyman,” You turned around to face him, heart pounding against your ribs. “That’s not how I see you. I mean, I’m grateful but that’s not all I see you as.”

“It’s alright. I quite like being your handyman.”

John’s sheepish smile made your dimly lit flat just that little bit brighter. He held your gaze, something he’d had trouble with in the past, but now neither of you seemed to be able to look away.

The silence that fell between you was deafening, you were sure he must be able to hear how quickly your heart was beating, and the shaky in and out of your breathing.

His hands were in the back pocket of his jeans, pushing his hips forward, his pretty, flowery brown shirt unbuttoned just enough so that you could see the ridge of his collarbones. You wanted to run your tongue along them, make him gasp as you kissed up the column of his throat to lick into his mouth, curling your tongue around his.

“How do you see me?” 

His question caught you off guard. John’s voice was low and soft, his eyes on you and only you. The radio was still playing softly, your cups of tea steaming on the counter. You opened your mouth but no sound came out. John’s gaze fell to your lips, just for a moment, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was pounding at the proximity, his fingers itching to reach out for your hands, your face, your waist. John had been agonising over it for months, trying to figure out why he felt so drawn to you, why he couldn’t stop thinking about you, why every time he left your flat, the painful wrench in his chest felt like he’d left a part of him behind.

“Well…” You stumbled, mouth hanging open as you tried to figure out what to say. “You're…” 

John gave you another gorgeous smile, the corners of his mouth creasing just a little. He was so close now that you could see a little freckle by his jaw, the slope of his strong nose, his soft lips, the little curls of hair by his temples, his dark green eyes, God, such gorgeous eyes, you could look at them forever. 

He stepped closer. He was so warm, you could feel it even though there was still a hand’s breadth between you, and he smelled so good, so good. He was just so enticing and he didn’t even know it, or didn’t know the extent of it, so much taller than you but never imposing and so shy but so self-assured.

“I should get going,” John said. “Unless there’s something else you need me to take care of?”

It was a question he’d asked you before, only now it made your mouth dry. There was a moment, just a beat, and all you did was look at each other. Then the song on the radio changed and suddenly, John was kissing you.

You couldn’t imagine a more incredible sensation than his big hands on either side of your face, his mouth pressed so tight against yours, his nose crammed against your cheek. You couldn’t have even if you tried, all rational thoughts left your head as soon as his lips touched yours. 

John broke away to ask if you were alright and you breathlessly nodded, already pulling him back down to kiss you again by the collar of his shirt. He grabbed at your waist, his chest flush against yours, pulling you so tight against him but it still didn’t feel close enough as you kissed him with everything you had.

You whimpered as his lips moved against yours, your collective shyness gone. Unlike times before, with other boys, you weren’t worried about how you sounded, or tasted, or felt. John was pushed up against you, and he wanted you, you knew he wanted you, you felt he wanted you, and suddenly you felt like the sexiest woman alive.

His tongue swept over your bottom lip and you let him in without a second thought, moaning as his tongue pressed against yours. He tasted even better than you imagined, like the peppermints he swore he wasn’t addicted to and just of John, god, John, he was so excruciatingly delicious.

His hands slid down your sides while you gripped the front of his shirt for dear life. It felt like if you separated, even for a second, the spell would be broken, and this would all turn out to be a fantastic dream.

You felt John start to back you up against the kitchen counter, his long fingers pressing into your waist, but as soon as the cold metal of the drawer handle bit into your hip, something sparked in your chest. 

You wanted him, you wanted him so badly, and somehow you knew if you pushed back, just a little, John would let you have him, if you stopped going through the motions and relied on instincts, instincts that were urging you to take control.

With a deliciously wet sound, you broke away. John’s eyes were so dark as they flitted over your face, worried that he’d been too forward, but you kissed him quickly to reassure him.

His lips were pink from the force of your kisses. You couldn't resist gently running your thumb over them, humming happily to yourself. You heard him shakily inhale and looked up, pleased to find John watching you closely. He had sensed a change in you and was eagerly waiting to see what you would do next.

Smiling, you pressed your thumb against his bottom lip, pulling down gently until they parted. The tip of his tongue brushed the pad of your thumb, and you let his lip go again with a soft laugh before kissing him.

You pushed away from the counter, hands against his chest, your mouth never leaving his as you crossed the kitchen floor. Your feet got tangled as you shuffled together, the two of you only breaking the kiss to giggle excitedly, teeth clashing and noses bumping but you didn’t care. 

John groaned as you pinned his hips against the side, your thumbs pressing into him through the material of his jeans, then with your own hips, freeing your hands so that you could grab his arse, pulling him tight against you. 

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” he gasped out, the corner of his gorgeous mouth twitching up into a smile.

You leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss right at the hollow of his throat. John’s cheeks were bright pink.

“Problem?” 

“Definitely not. ‘m very happy for you to make me yours.”

His words sent a thrill through you, pooling in the pit of your stomach and between your thighs. You hadn’t realised just how wet you were until he grinned down at you, his big hands on your waist, thumbs stroking up and down. 

“Fucking hell, John,” you muttered, before crushing your lips against his again.

You reached an unspoken agreement, neither of you could go on a second longer without having each other. 

You tugged his hips against yours, again and again, rolling them together until you couldn’t stand the ache anymore and pulled his thigh between yours, grinding down to relieve the pressure, making you both gasp into each other’s mouths.

Your desperation found new heights when John whimpered, and you realised you could feel him, hard and prominent through his jeans. You grinned, flicking your tongue against his one last time before pulling away.

You felt so cold without him pressed against you, so you wasted no time, practically dragging John back into the living room, your mouth never leaving his until you pushed him down onto the sofa.

You practically fell into his lap, your mouth immediately finding his again. Now you’d got a taste of him, you couldn't get enough. You’d fantasised about kissing John but the real thing was infinitely more heavenly than anything your imagination had devised. 

His mouth moved so deftly against yours despite the urgency, his tongue as clever as the fingers that squeezed your thighs. There was no shyness now, he wanted this, wanted you, and who were you to deny him?

You made quick work of his shirt, your fingers stumbling over the buttons while he pressed kisses down your neck, groaning every time your nails brushed his chest.

One of his hands fell to your arse, the other staying on your thigh to keep you balanced as he rolled your hips against his, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he let out a low hiss.

You left his shirt on, too needy to waste time fiddling with sleeves and things. You had more than enough to enjoy anyway. Throwing his shirt open, you bent over him and sucked at his neck, groaning through teeth and tongue until his skin was covered in little marks. 

You followed the path of his blush down his neck to his chest, peppering him with kisses and bites until he was whining desperately, begging you to touch him.

With one hand, you lifted his chin so that he was looking up at you.

“You’ve got such pretty eyes, love. Keep ‘em on me.” 

John nodded as best he could with your fingers wrapped gently around his jaw, his mouth hanging open as he panted, just as desperate and needy as you were. 

With your free hand, you felt him through his jeans, running your fingers along the outline of him, and when John choked on your name, it made you suck in your bottom lip. He let out a long, desperate moan that made your head spin, your need only getting worse with every soft noise you drew from him.

You both giggled again as you stood up so that John could wriggle out of his jeans, his hands fumbling with the material in his eagerness. You laughed when they got stuck around his hips, so tight that he couldn’t get them off. He’d also forgotten to take off his boots. Giddy and excited, you realised you didn’t care.

You shimmied out of your own jeans and fell back into John’s lap before he could get his trousers all the way down. His big hands wrapped around the backs of your bare thighs as you leaned over him, hands planted firmly on his broad shoulders.

“You doing alright, sweet boy?” you asked, tenderly pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead.

There was a fine line between being clumsy with excitement and feeling overwhelmed without even realising it, and you couldn’t bear it if John wasn’t having a good time. But he smiled up at you.

“I need you,” He squeezed your thighs, then ran his hands round to your arse, giving you a little slap that made you gasp. “Please, love, I want you so bad.”

You didn’t need any more convincing than that.

You kissed him, slowly and gently, trying to convey that this wasn’t just a quick fumble on the couch to you, that this meant something. You could feel John smiling against your mouth and leaned back just in time to see those creases by his eyes before his smile faded and his gaze grew hazy with want.

He helped you out of your shirt, immediately squeezing your breasts, running his thumbs over the lacy material of your bra until he could feel your nipples harden against his palms.

You watched him play with you with a fond smile, breath catching every so often when his fingers brushed over your sensitive skin. You moaned with John as he pushed your breasts together, his lips parted and almost bruised from how hard he’d bitten them.

He pulled you closer and kissed your nipples through your bra, looking up at you as he grazed you with his teeth, then his perfect tongue. You couldn’t decide between holding his gaze and letting your head fall back, and in the end, it was all so much, your desire turned to desperation.

You slipped your hands into his stupid, lovely hair, as you started to move again, panting into each other’s mouths as your clothed heat met his hard length, still straining against his jeans.

You almost sobbed as the pressure and intensity built up to unmanageable levels, but then John reached between your thighs and began to rub you with his thumb through your underwear and you saw stars.

The choked moan that escaped you might've embarrassed you if you’d been with anyone else, but this was John, lovely John, and you hadn’t felt this safe or this at home in so long.

“Fuck, John, I-”

You had to slip one hands back down to his shoulder to keep yourself steady, your legs suddenly feeling too weak to hold you up as warm pleasure seeped through your muscles.

John moved quickly against you, his calloused fingertips creating a friction you’d never experienced before. All those years of bass, you realised. Suddenly you couldn’t wait for their next gig, you’d be front and centre.

John tilted up his chin, inviting you to kiss him and you eagerly accepted, messy and sloppy now as your desperation grew. 

He broke away, eyes flitting down to wear his fingers were between your thighs, then met your gaze again just as he moved your underwear aside and slipped his fingers through your slick heat.

He grunted, twisting his wrist so that he could angle his fingers better, circling your clit, just as you had pictured that night on your couch.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, pulling his fingers back for just a second to swipe his tongue over them, moaning at the taste of you before he got back to work.

Your eyes screwed shut, focusing on the feeling of his finger pressing into you, then another. You gasped and bucked your hips as the cold metal of his rings brushed against you, so sensitive that it almost finished you off right there.

“God, your rings,” you panted, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

“Should I take them off?”

“Nononono, feels so good, feels really good.”

John beamed up at you. 

You couldn’t believe how eager to please he was, how much he seemed to get off on the praise you showered him with as his fingers worked faster and deeper. 

But then maybe you should have known. You’d seen how blushy and shy he got whenever you complimented his work, how he always seemed to stand tall when you told him what a good job he’d done.

Even now, his gaze was focused despite the urgency with which you grabbed at each other. The little crease in his forehead, the way his lips pressed together, he was concentrating on making you feel good and nothing else, so attentive, absolutely enthralled.

“What made you so wet, love?” he asked, and even in your state, you couldn’t miss the marvel in his voice.

“You,” you gasped out. “Watching you work. Fuck, you’re so good with your hands.”

“How long have you wanted this?”

“Wanted you? From the moment I saw you.”

That made John smile, and you couldn’t resist kissing him, brushing his hair back from his face again with a gentleness that offset the heated look in your eyes.

The slightly rough skin on the pad of his finger was so good, all you could do was let the feeling wash over you, but as you bucked your hips against his hand, you pressed against his hard on and you heard John gasp, his finger stilling just for a moment.

In a sudden moment of clarity, you scrabbled at his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down far enough so that you could free his aching cock, only just stopping yourself from licking your lips as it strained against his stomach.

John's cheeks were pink as you took him in. He’d wanted this from the moment you met too. Every lingering look, every time you brushed past him, every time you laughed at something he said, made sure he ate, gushed about how much you needed him and loved having him around, it had been building up for months.

He couldn’t get you off his mind. Now he could finally touch you, feel you, do all the things he’d been dreaming about doing. Now he knew that you tasted just as good as you looked, and sounded even better than he thought possible, and for once John didn’t feel shy about being seen because the look in your eyes as you took him in, it made him feel so safe and loved and wanted, he hardly knew what to do with himself.

With his hands on your arse again, squeezing you, keeping you close, you leaned forward and captured his lips in a searing kiss, messy and filthy, all tongue and teeth, his hard on trapped between you, rubbing against the soft skin of your tummy.

John gasped, fingers digging into your skin, words failing him for a second, it just felt so good.

“God, love, you make me so fucking har- Ah! Fuck!”

You’d wrapped your fingers around him for the first time and it made John cut himself off with an outstanding moan. It was so carnal that it actually made you blush and you stopped for a moment just to watch him throw his head back, face flushed, chest heaving.

You pressed open-mouthed kisses down his neck, pointed teeth catching against his skin as you grinned, pleased with yourself when he bucked into your hand.

“Always so good for me, always so good.”

You practically purred the words right by his ear, his breath warm against your neck as he gasped and moaned, arching his back off the sofa.

“Oh?” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then under his jaw. “Did you like that, love? Do you like being my good boy?”

You flicked your tongue against the shell of his ear, pressing a final kiss right at the pulse point in his neck, and John couldn’t take it anymore.

“Yes, God, please just fuck me, please,” he begged, head tilted back, mouth hanging open as another moan rolled through him.

You smiled.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

Though you hated being apart from him, even for a few seconds, you dragged yourself away. Luckily you’d left your purse on the coffee table in one of your usual bouts of laziness so all you had to do was lean back, John’s hands clutching your thighs to keep you from falling.

When you pulled out the condom, you almost didn’t want to look at John. Your roommate had seen one in your purse once and rattled on for hours about how unladylike it was, but John seemed more than fine with it.

You grasped him with one hand, swirling your thumb over the head, beaming as you noted that you weren’t the only one who was wet. John flushed, letting out a shaky moan as you rolled the condom on and gave him a few strokes.

“I bet you look so pretty when you cum,” You kissed his hot cheeks, twisting your wrist as you pumped your hand up and down his length. “You gonna show me, honey?”

He interrupted his beautiful little pants and whines with a broad smile, and there was that little gap in his teeth.

“Keep doing that and you won’t have to wait long.”

John’s eyes never left yours as you slid down onto him. You gasped, wriggling your hips a little until he was completely inside you. He felt so good, you could hardly think, hardly breathe. 

It had been so long since you'd been with anyone and the delicious stretch made your eyes squeeze shut while John let out a long, gorgeous, open-mouthed moan that rose higher and higher as you clenched around him.

“God, you feel so good, sweetheart.”

His voice was rough as he gently squeezed your hips, his red-bitten lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as you got settled. Through the haze of pleasure, the sweet name made you smile. You could get used to him calling you that. 

John pulled you close, hands smoothing up and down your back, and asked if you were alright in a hoarse voice. Smiling, you cupped his face, thumbs sliding over his cheeks as you kissed him again, deep and slow, whispering that you were perfect, that he was perfect.

You’d never felt so full, never needed anyone so badly, and as you started to move your hips and heard his ecstatic groan, you knew you would never want anyone else, just John, just your gorgeous, lovely, shy, clever, sweet John who would do anything for you, and wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

He let his head fall back against the sofa, his hands still gripping your hips tight to help you keep a steady rhythm. John let out a soft ‘fuck’, face red, hands shaking, and you couldn’t believe he was yours, this ridiculously beautiful boy. 

The marks you’d left on his neck and chest and tummy sent another pang of pleasure through you, a sudden feeling of possessiveness. He was yours, all yours, and you were his.

“Mm, God, fuck me,” John whined, arching his back again.

He sounded so incredible you moaned in response. He was going to be the death of you.

“That’s so hot, John, shut up.”

That made him laugh softly and he sat up, giving you a soft kiss, then slipped down the sofa a little, angling himself so that he could fuck up into you, swivelling his hips with every thrust. 

You pressed your hands down on his shoulders for support and picked up a steady rhythm, and when he thrust up to meet your movements, snapping his hips even harder than before, you choked on his name.

Soon enough, your movements grew sloppy and desperate as you drew closer, whispering sweetly to each other, groaning into each other’s mouth as you chased your highs, hardly kissing now, just wet lips sliding together, teeth catching.

John grabbed at your arse again, pulling down harder and harder, and you felt that familiar tension in your abdomen, like a rubber band about to snap. Your eyes squeezed shut, mouth hanging open in pure, unabashed pleasure, and with one more perfectly angled thrust, John hit that perfect spot inside you.

“John- I’m-” 

You choked on the words as you felt yourself tighten around him, then heat bloomed inside you and you tensed, moaning wordlessly as he gripped your thigh, pulling you so close it almost hurt. 

You whimpered as John huffed by your ear, cumming deep inside you with a series of sharp thrusts until you collapsed against each other, moaning and panting, sweaty and tired but in such a state of euphoria, it didn’t matter.

You groaned, sinking into John with a broad smile, muscles trembling, unable to hold yourself up any longer. You felt him run a hand through your hair, pushing it back from your forehead and tucking it behind your ear, and you almost cried from the tenderness of it all.

You raised your head to kiss him, whimpering when he sat up a little, and you clenched around him a final time.

John beamed at you. No one had ever looked at you with such open, bright adoration before, especially not after sex. His chest rose and fell heavily beneath your palm. His heart was pounding, just for you.

“You made up all that stuff so I’d come fix things, didn’t you?” he asked.

You looked at each other for a moment until you broke and let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head.

“Not all of it.” You pressed a sweet kiss to his forehead, feeling sheepish. “I know it’s crazy.”

“A bit.” John couldn’t stop smiling if he tried. “But it’s also very sweet.”

You huffed and covered your face, embarrassed, but John groaned in complaint and gently pulled them away again. He held them in his own, his hands so much bigger than yours, hands that had done so much for you, and pressed them to his chest.

“I just like having you around,” you admitted. “You’re so lovely and I… I’ve been a bit lonely, I s’pose.”

John smiled, reaching up so that he could bump his nose against yours, kissing you softly while your radio played.

“I can fix that.”

//

Master List

[im-an-adult-ish]

My first audible “holy shit” comes during Somebody to Love because holy shit that’s amazing.

Live look less than 5 minutes in at me watching Queen Rock Montreal all of the way through for the first time.

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 2

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 2 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 1 / Part 3

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: swearing, slight sentiments of sadness

Historical Inaccuracies:

I realise that ‘Time Waits For No One’ was partially a composition by Dave Clark, and not only by Freddie, but I’d imagine that he’d have liked that whole concept anyway, before Clark came along with his musical.

The picture below is from Christmas Eve, 1969, but we’re going to pretend that it’s from February, 1975 :)

Word Count: 4.3k

‧⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

You awoke with a terrible sadness in your heart, and heavy-limbed, you climbed out of bed to the sound of rain and somebody making coffee in the kitchen. With a look at your alarm clock and a start, you realised that it was already ten minutes past eleven.

You traded your pyjamas for slacks and a jumper Heather had once knitted for you, wondering why melancholy overwhelmed you as you combed your hair from your eyes.

Dazed by sleep, you wandered into the kitchen with a yawn shuddering your frame. You blinked blearily at the shirtless blonde in your kitchen who was drumming his fingers on the counter along to the tune he hummed.

“Roger?” you said, confounded.

He spun around with an equally bewildered expression, his hands raised as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.

His features broadened into a smile. “Y/N! You live here too?”

“Too?” you said. “Who else do you know here? And put on a shirt, Rog. You’re dressed if you’re in my kitchen.”

Roger stuck out his tongue at you, but pulled his shirt from where it’d been slung over a barstool.

You returned his lovely expression and he rolled his eyes at you in good nature.

You’d known Roger since you’d started at Imperial College and he’d started at London Hospital Medical College; you’d met him at the stall he kept in Kensington Market, selling clothes. Always talking about cars and his love for them, Roger was funny and charming, and quite intelligent, though the latter was a thing he downplayed in favour of his looks. You had never understood why boys thought that girls didn’t want a smart boyfriend, and when you’d mentioned it to Roger off-handedly once, visiting on a day he was working at the stall, he’d simply shrugged. “I’ll get them one way or another,” he’d winked.

Then, a sophisticated, sunkissed lad who was folding clothes had snorted from behind a clothing rack. “You won’t get her,” he’d said, referring to you. He’d then introduced himself with, “Freddie Mercury, darling. I can tell you where to find the nice boys, because Rog here isn’t one of them.” Freddie, of East Ealing Art College, was shy but creative, fashionable, and utterly lovely. He had known Roger since before school, and, aside from the clothing stand with Rog, was also in a band with him and a couple of others. Roger played the drums, and you knew that Freddie was an incredible vocalist, because you’d once caught him humming to himself and demanded he sing you more. You had fit right in with Roger and Freddie since day one, with your sharp wit and passionate romanticisms, and the three of you had quickly become good friends.

“So who’s the lucky lady?” you said, putting the kettle on for tea. For some reason, you didn’t feel like coffee this morning. The thought of its bitterness suddenly drew bitterness from you. “Or should I say ladies?” you trilled.

Roger smirked, leaned against the kitchen counter. “No, just the one lady. Think she’s still asleep, though, so try to keep it down,” he shushed.

You shook your head at him. “If she knows what you look like, she knows what you’re like, Rog. Don’t think you’ve got anyone fooled.”

“You’re such a good friend, Y/N. So supportive,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Funny,” you said, “I was told exactly the same thing last night, but I think he meant it, at least.”

Roger winced. “No getting down for you, then?”

You lobbed a coaster at him, but he caught it. “You need to stop just throwing things when you can’t think of anything to say, Y/N.”

“Stop being a prick, then,” you sassed him back.

“Okay, grumpy girl. Just because your little friend didn’t like you back.”

“For your information, he was actually very tall.”

A soft padding sound reached you from the doorway, and you glanced over to see Heather appear in the doorway, her mane of hair sticking up to one side and her pyjama top only half-buttoned.

“The hell is it with you people and shirts?” you muttered. “You’d think your mothers never taught you how to dress yourselves.”

Roger laughed at your comment, and Heather looked between the two of you.

“You know each other?” she said.

“Heather, honestly?” you scoffed. “My friend Roger who works down at the stall in Kensington?”

“Oh,” she said. “Same Roger?” You just blinked at her. “Common name,” she shrugged.

“You two know each other?” you gestured between her and Roger.

Roger’s smile was easy; he turned to Heather and his eyes ran over her, his lower lip between his teeth. Heather’s body language was obviously responsive.

“Ugh, no!” you said, rubbing your eyes. “Not a good image.”

“I thought we looked quite good together,” Heather flirted to Roger as you shuddered.

“Please don’t. Least not before breakfast,” you groaned, sliding off of the barstool as the kettle boiled.

Heather giggled, and you could still see Roger looking at her in your peripheral vision.

You busied yourself with making tea and pouring it into a thermos. Roger had walked over to kiss Heather, and you couldn’t get away from the sight of your two friends necking fast enough.

“I’m going out,” you said, grabbing the thermos, your keys, and boots.

“Oh, any chance you’re going to see Freddie?” said Roger from the doorway to the hall, arms around Heather.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“Got a message for him.”

“Could you not just telephone him?”

“There’s no phone at the stall.”

“Later, then?”

Roger frowned. “It’s important, please?”

You sighed heavily. “Fine, but only because I’m such a good friend,” you mimicked his words from earlier. “What is it, then?”

Roger grinned. “Tell him Clements says okay and eight o’clock sharp.”

Your puzzled expression seemed to amuse him. “I was going to tell you, but I’m sure Freddie will.” He waved a hand. “I haven’t got time right now.”

“You haven’t— oh forget it.” He’d gone back to snogging Heather, and there was simply no point in nagging him when it would be faster just to find Freddie.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“Fred?” you poked your head around the stall, trying to spot him between the racks of colourful jackets and corduroy trousers, but failing for the life of you.

He popped up from underneath the table and you nearly leapt from your skin.

“Oh, hello, darling! How lovely of you to visit me,” he beamed, smoothing hair back from his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Jesus, Freddie, you scared me,” you exhaled laboriously, still recovering from your shock.

“Sorry about that, dearie. I’m afraid I’ve upset the moneybox and spilled it all under the table,” he said with an expression of dismay. “Help me look?”

You eyed your already questionably-clean trousers. “Yeah, alright then,” you said, squeezing into the stall beside Freddie. “Any idea how much was in there?” you asked as you sank to your knees.

Freddie lifted the cloth covering the table and threw it to the side. “Afraid not. Deacy usually handles finances and all that, after Norman Sheffield’s fuckery at Trident, y’know.”

You knew the soft-eyed, cheeky John Deacon as well. As the bassist in Freddie and Roger’s band and student of electrical engineering, Deacy (as he was known) was simultaneously the most well-mannered boy you’d ever encountered and also the greatest connoisseur of dirty jokes. Despite being only a year younger than you and Roger, Deacy was Freddie’s protegé, in a way, because Freddie had taken the younger boy under his wing in matters both of the musical world and of the world in general. You were quite sure that Freddie believed Deacy to be an innocent in need of protection, and that Deacy intended to keep his precious mentor fooled, particularly because some of the disco nightclubs that John had shown you and Rog suggested rather the opposite of his supposed personality. All in all, he was as dear to you as Freddie and Rog.

You laughed. “Freddie, this is just little coins. I’m sure you would’ve been okay to look after that.”

“Yes, well, not much time to count money when the most handsome men in London seem to stroll through this here market almost constantly,” Freddie huffed indignantly and you smiled in amusement. “Are you looking?” he said.

“Yes, yes,” you assured him, hastily picking up the coins in your immediate line of sight before beginning to scavenge for those which had rolled farther away on their escape routes.

“So, why are you here? I know you like our lovely little shop, but you’re usually studying on Saturdays.”

You sighed. “I probably should be. But Roger’s shacked it up with one of my housemates, my roommate, actually—”

“Heather?”

“Yeah, Heather.”

“Oh yes, he’s definitely her type,” gushed Freddie, spotting another coin and tossing it into the moneybox gleefully.

“He’s hers?” you said.

Freddie peered at you. “Well, really, Y/N. Roger’s type is everyone.”

“Fair enough,” you nodded. “And, oh,” you remembered, “I have a message for you, from Rog.”

“Ah. What’s it, then?”

“Uh, it seemed kind of cryptic, but he said you’d understand.” Freddie motioned for you to go on. “Let’s see. ‘Clements says okay and eight o’clock sharp’,” you quoted.

Freddie paused in his treasure hunt and clapped, “Oh, excellent!”

“Fill me in?” you pleaded finally, weary with excitement for that which you did not know.

Freddie clasped his hands. “We’re playing a gig, tonight, at the Union Bar!” he exclaimed. “We normally don’t play that small any longer, what with our increasing popularity, but we thought it would be nice to do a bit of an intimate concert once more, before we shoot for the stars and lose that privilege entirely.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic!” you said, knowing you were free tonight. You’d always wanted to see their band Queen, but the circumstances had never really lined up for you to do so, though Freddie had even offered for you to sit in on their rehearsals many a time.

“And you can finally meet our last puzzle piece!” said Freddie, his eyes alight. “Oh, he’ll adore you. Have I mentioned he’s studying some sort of science too? Maybe even similar to what you’re doing. I always seem to forget the name of it, though Bri is quite particular about it. He’d positively kill me with that glower of his if he knew I’d forgotten the name of it again. Oh, bugger,” Freddie went on. “It’s something to do with space. It’s on the tip of my tongue, I swear—”

But something had clicked inside of your head, and your palms felt oddly sweaty.

Freddie and Roger and Deacy had always referred to their fourth bandmate as simply ‘Bri’ or ‘Brimi’, or, in Fred’s case, ‘that bitch’, and so it had not occurred to you. You hadn’t known what he’d looked like, or anything about him, really, other than that he was a talented guitarist of a short temper and a motherly heart. But now you realised, with a fluttering sensation to accompany the thought, that you knew precisely who Brimi was, and that you had practically memorised his smile from seeing it nearly every morning of the past semester. Now, suddenly, the calloused fingers you had held in your own made perfect sense— Brian, the guitarist.

“Astrophysics,” you murmured softly.

“I’m sorry?” said Freddie, who had only just stopped in his flood of excited words.

“Astrophysics,” you repeated more loudly.

Freddie’s brow creased. “Yes, yes that’s it. I’d better commit it to memory, now. But how’d you know that? I’m sure I’ve never actually managed to tell you. I would’ve remembered such a momentous occasion.”

Your head felt suddenly quiet, though the thrum of your heart was sure to replace that silence with its own deafening beat.

You looked away, combing your fingers through your hair. “We’ve got the same morning class for our major,” you said, “and, uh, yesterday evening, when Heather went off with Roger, Brian and I had a drink together.”

Freddie gasped so vehemently that your eyes flashed back to him to be sure that he wasn’t suffering a fit or something.

“In that case, I’m sure he adores you already.”

“Freddie!”

“Think about it, Y/N! You’re both besotted by an absolutely absurd science that makes no fucking sense, and you’re friends with me and Roger and Deac already, so you must’ve gotten along like wildfire and a dry forestscape!”

“Freddie, that’s a horrible analogy.”

“That may be so, darling, but from the light in your eyes, you know what I mean.”

A strange blush engulfed your cheeks and you touched your fingers to your face, willing the flush to disappear. It didn’t.

“No idea what you’re on about,” you said.

“There’s still time.”

“Still time for what?”

Freddie threw his hands into the air. “For things to happen.”

“Nothing did and nothing will,” you countered, a little sternly.

“You’ll be lying to me before the month is through. I’ll find you more time with him, if that’s what you need.”

You ignored Freddie’s suggestive comments. “Time waits for no one,” you remarked instead.

“Now that’s a good line, isn’t it? Do you use it often, or would you mind terribly if I made something of it?” Freddie inquired.

“Pretty sure it’s a rather common expression, but I’m sure you’ll make something wonderful of it,” you said fondly, knowing his poetic habits.

Freddie winked at you. “I’ll certainly do my best. Now, I think we’ve got all the coins, so I say we get off of this filthy floor that the dust bunnies appear to have taken over, or what’s your view on the matter?”

“Time to depart the good Realm of Floor,” you agreed, stretching your creaking legs and giving Freddie a hand up.

“So you’re coming tonight, yes?” Freddie brushed dust and lint from his velvet trousers.

“Of course,” you said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“You’ve missed all the other times, though,”

“I know, Fred,” you exhaled softly. “But I—”

Freddie’s hand covered your shoulder. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, darling. We’re friends, remember?” he smiled comfortingly.

“And friends will be friends,” you responded, as you and the others had taken to saying, originally as a gag, but now as a sort of mantra to keep you going through the harder days.

Freddie smiled again. “Are you busy, or do you fancy going for lunch?”

“Sounds good,” you said. “Where were you thinking?”

“Just the pub. You know how much I enjoy their fish ‘n’ chips.” He meant Kensington Pub.

“Oh yes,” you recalled it very well. “I know.”

“Excellent! Well, I’ll just tidy up quickly and close, and we can be on our way.” You nodded, helping him to rearrange a few out-of-place things before he waved you off. “You don’t work here, dearie. We can talk about dear ol’ Brian while you wait for me, if you like.”

“Clearly, you’re the one who’s obsessed with him.”

“I won’t dispute that. He’s rather nice when he’s not attempting to control every little note of our music.”

“Which is... often?” you said.

Freddie nodded with ardour. “He’s got taste, mind you, but sometimes that taste just gets overbearing, if you know what I mean,” his tone was cheeky.

You folded your arms and leaned against the wall. “No, Freddie, I’ve entirely no clue what you mean.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

After lunch, the two of you took the tube from Kensington Station to Freddie’s flat.

Freddie opened the door to several different cats meowing at the return of their human, and he greeted each one by name, rubbing fluffy backs and scratching behind waiting ears as he passed.

The cats had encountered you many times before, and though many had at first been apprehensive at the presence of an outsider, they now greeted you as one of their own.

“I thought maybe you’d like to borrow a couple of our records to listen to before the concert tonight,” Freddie said, tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter and making his way over to where his record player and vinyl collection resided. He gestured to the crates and stacks of records, encouraging you to take a look while he retrieved Queen’s own works.

Despite the fact that your household contained a total of eleven people, Freddie’s music collection was far more impressive than that of your residence. Jimi Hendrix, Elvis, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and Aretha Franklin seemed to dominate the collection, but there was a heavy presence of classical and operatic compositions too, from Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet to Chopin.

“You have so many records,” you said, wishing there was more room in your monthly budget to spend on records, music that you could replay as much as you wanted, rather than waiting for— hoping for— the radio to cycle through your favourites.

“I’ve spent many years building up my collection,” Freddie told you, as though he knew what you were thinking and wished to remind you that such collections were not accumulated overnight; there was still all the time in the world for you to develop your own reserve of records.

“Ah, here we are!” he slid three volumes from a shelf, smiling fondly at the covers. “We’re not The Beatles, but I daresay we’re quite fantastic all the same.” He handed you the records, and you took them with care.

The first was mauve in colour scheme and depicted a person hoisting a sheared microphone stand into the air, illuminated by a singular dramatic spotlight. The second was a highly-contrasted rendering of all four members of Queen in (once more) spectacular lighting, and diamond formation. The third and final was all of them again, lying in a strange circular heap, eyes intense and skin shining with what was likely supposed to be sweat.

Your eyes strayed to Brian on the cover of the third album, the neck of his shirt pulled open, his lips parted and his eyes dazed. The image was suggestive, and Brian was attractive.

Blinking stray thoughts away, you tucked the last album behind the others and cleared your throat as subtly as you could manage. But Freddie had not thought you subtle; he grinned at you astutely.

“Rock and roll, then?” you said, though you already knew the answer. The point was, you were trying to change the subject.

“Rock ‘n’ roll,” Freddie emphasised. “We’ll have you educated in no time, don’t you worry. Homework is listening to those records. Come back again soon and I’ll swap you some Led Zeppelin and Aretha Franklin.”

“Varying taste,” you commented, desperately trying to coerce your mind from its previous focus.

“We’ve got to expand yours,” Freddie said. “Now go home and listen! We can’t have you standing mute and still in the crowd tonight! I plan on making sure you get up front, but I need energy from you for that to be justified, Y/N.”

“Okay, Mercury,” you smirked. “Such high standards, so demanding.”

Freddie sighed, “Got to be, darling. How else would I augment the quality of my music?”

“I’m definitely out of my depth here, Fred.”

He patted your shoulder. “Get out and go home and listen,” he said.

You made a face and Freddie stuck out his tongue at you. “See you later, dearie. Tell Brendan Clements when you arrive and he’ll get you past the crowds.”

“Fab. Later, Freddie.” You gave him a wave as you departed and he blew you a kiss.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You supposed there was one good thing about Heather and Roger’s newfound relations. Well, maybe two.

The first was that you knew Roger and he knew you, and he knew that you would dye his hair permanently peroxide green if he ever hurt Heather intentionally.

The second was that, after this morning, Heather and Roger had headed off to Roger’s place for a few days, meaning that you were free to dance around your room to whatever music you wished without suffering shyness and embarrassment about your moves when you were inevitably discovered. Your other housemates worked most days, and conveniently, your shifts at the local cafe did not coincide with the absences of your household; you would now have the house to yourself quite a bit.

Having abandoned your boots by your wardrobe, you picked up the first record, simply titled Queen.

“Memorable already,” you murmured, feeling oddly exhilarated.

The record was on the deck by your bed within moments, and you flopped down atop your covers to enjoy the music in one of the purest ways you knew how— by lying back on your bed and spreading your arms and letting the melodies carry you away.

The energy kicked in immediately, and to the vivacity of the music you would have sold your soul.

Freddie’s voice was unrelentingly powerful, and unmatchable in beauty. You caught hints of Roger and Brian singing between the thrum of Deacy’s bass lines, their own instruments, and Freddie’s lead vocals, and the effect of the four of them together was unforgettable, astronomical, meant to make history.

Their talent as musicians was riveting if appreciated on its own, but Queen were artists too. How they could have thought up the stories they told, both through lyrics and without any words at all, you did not know.

Record after record, their voices rose together like waves, rushing over you and tossing you in their midst. You felt you were made of stardust, not only in the sense that everything of the past was still atomically part of everything present, but also in the metaphorical way; you felt light and heavenly, like you were floating above the ground, dancing on clouds.

Most of Queen’s songs, to your delight, made you want to dance— the best music made one want to dance. The songs that didn’t make you want to dance made you feel other emotions entirely— they moved you to tears.

By the time ‘In the Lap of the Gods… Revisited’ had signalled the end of Sheer Heart Attack, you had curled up on your side, gazing unblinkingly at the slowing vinyl. It wouldn’t have been too far off to say that listening to Queen's music felt like a transcendental experience.

When the needle passed the final break in the record’s surface and met the space between the break and the record’s central label, you leapt up. Immediately, you swapped the last record for the first, so as to begin the cycle of listening again. You wanted to, needed to, hear it all again.

How lucky you felt, to be going to the concert of such artists the very same night, and how serendipitous it felt to not only know, but to be friends with these artists.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You had dabbed your eyelids with silver and outlined them in black, the way Freddie had taught you to, though you had never worn your makeup so until now. Your dress was a cotton-tulle mix, black and bell-sleeved, and spotted with flecks of silver like little stars; the effect was somewhere between casual and glam. A good balance, if you should be so bold as to say. Platform sandals completed the regalia, which you felt was a fitting way to describe the outfit which one wore to the concert of a band named Queen.

Between your third and fourth cycles of the three Queen albums, Heather had rung the telephone in the hallway across from your room.

“Hello, gorgeous!”

“Hiya, Heather,” you greeted her cheerily.

“I’ve been out all day, so I’m sorry if you’ve tried to get hold of me.”

“I’ve been out for a good many hours as well. Hope you didn’t miss me too terribly,” you sniggered.

“Pish posh. Not in the slightest. Been making out with Rog—”

“Stop right there, Heather.”

She made kissing sounds on the other end of the line.

“Remind me why you’re calling again?” you said, half-jokingly, half-seriously. Half-seriously because it was getting dreadfully close to eight o’clock, to Queen playing at the Union Bar. “And where are you, anyway?

“Calling to tell you Roger and his band are playing at the Union tonight, and to ask if you’re coming. I’m currently at said drummer’s place getting ready to tag along for said concert.”

“‘Course I’m coming,” you said. “Finest new musicians I’ve heard in years.”

Heather snorted. “You sound like my grandfather— top of the morning to you— finest musicians!” she laughed.

“Just because you haven’t actually heard their music yet,” you reprimanded her.

“About to. So this Freddie told you about the concert, like Roger said he would.”

“Yeah, our friend Freddie.”

“Oh. Oh god, Y/N, I’m fucking stupid. It’s the same guys as you usually talk about. I forget that. It’s like my mind thinks they’re part of some alternate reality, or something.”

“Please tell me you’re not on LSD.”

“No! I promised you I wouldn’t do anything silly for a month. You said LSD counted as silly, so despite being surrounded by all sorts of rockstars, I’m currently stone cold sober in every sense of the word.”

“Unfortunately, it appears you’re still under the effects of Roger Meddows Taylor,” you laughed.

“Shush, Y/N. He’ll think I’m some wacko already in love with him on day one.”

“You are a little bit, though, aren’t you?”

You could almost see her roll her eyes, see yourself respond with a knowing smile toward the insight that she was forever downplaying her emotions to seem less of a romantic than she was. But she was a romantic. Very much so. And she got her heart broken far too often for someone who loved as much and as wholly, as unconditionally, as she did.

“See you in a bit, mwah,” Heather kissed the phone and you cursed her loudness. She laughed at your string of obscenities and put down the phone.

With a final look in the mirror, hoping that your fashion choices had not been too bold, you swept out the door and into the night.

‧⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

A/N: hello beautiful! thanks for reading this. just send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

taglist: @melting-obelisks  @stardust-killer-queen  @hgmercury39​ @topsecretdeacon

Masterpost / Part 1 / Part 3