#brian taylor x y/n

[charliehoennam]

rainy day in

a/n: request made here

summary: brian asks for help with his shaved hairstyle and reminisces

pairing: brian taylor x F!reader

warnings: no smut, fluff, police topics, language, playful nudge to a bit of smut towards the end

Despite being a playful man who liked to make light of most situations, Brian is accustomed to discipline and simplicity.

His years in the military only seemed to further enhance this particular aspect of his nature.

Having a shaved head was actually the standard look of the Marines and, after years of wearing the Jarhead look, he realized it was a much cheaper and low maintenance option.

That's why he decided to keep it that way even after he had retired from the military.

Missing the action the military provided with every deployment, he figured the next best thing was enlisting in the police academy.

However, Brian loved a challenge and was always yearning for more, to do more, to be more.

Moving up the ranks on the force was a no-brainer for him and he understood it would mean sacrificing time to hit the books and go back to school.

That was where you met.

You were both studying law and shared a couple classes together, in which he became the class clown.

At first, you hadn't noticed him until he cracked the funniest joke the class had ever heard. Even your professor couldn't help but laugh at him.

Most of the students gravitated towards his friendly nature that they quickly picked up on and adored him for it, so it was no surprise that he became popular so quickly.

Brian was not all fun and games though. He was very smart and had a tactical mind which was later explained when he told you about his Marine past.

You were mostly reserved and your no-nonsense nature attracted his attention rather quickly.

Although some of the girls threw themselves at his feet and at the masculine concept of a man in authority and uniform, you kept mostly to yourself.

You concentrated deeply and only on your studies instead of lingering after class to mingle a bit, which made you all the more mysterious to him.

In truth, he couldn't stop thinking about you in class or looking over at you to admire the way you bite your lower lip when you take your notes.

You caught him a couple times, mostly when the professors were going on about a certain case the class had been studying or during slide presentations when the dark classroom could hide his wandering eyes, even though you could always feel them on you.

It was the way the projector light glowed against your face. It was the way you held the cap of your pen between your lips.

Like a magnet, his eyes just always found themselves roaming back towards you, but it wasn't just him.

You felt a pull towards him as well whenever your eyes met across the classroom.

Brian was, no doubt, one of the cutest guys in the entire campus and you adored catching glimpses of his dimples whenever he smiled. Or watching his bottom lip pull to the right whenever he talked. But, it was his eyes that really did you in.

Despite the fact that you weren't the most friendly, it didn't stop you from engaging enthusiastically in debates often provoked by your professors.

That was the first thing Brian admired about you. The courage that you had you to speak your mind and the eloquent way in which you did so. And it was in one of those very debates that you had your first verbal exchange.

The topic had been a bit controversial and you both had opposing opinions on police brutality.

The way you and Brian battled back and forth, relentlessly stating supporting facts and arguments, pointing out contradictions within them had the whole class - as well as the professor - in silence as they let you go on, enjoying how you'd almost turned the classroom into a court of law.

Saved by the bell, the argument had ended when you stated scientific numbers that defended your point of view to counter his defense of being in the police force and experiencing it firsthand.

He was stunned to witness how prepared you were and your arguments were successful in making him realize he didn't have all the answers.

After class had ended, he waited by the door until you left so he could apologize for getting carried away.

You joked and said you'd think about forgiving him, so he offered to take you out to dinner to encourage your forgiveness.

It was history after that.

It's been a couple of years since that day and now, you find yourselves enjoying breakfast together on his day off in your shared apartment.

You walk towards the dining nook where Brian is already sat, sipping his black coffee as he reads the newspaper.

You instinctively reach out as you sit down beside him and lovingly rub his prickly scalp.

"Your head is getting fuzzy again. You gonna grow it out?"

"Nah. Hair takes too much work. Think you can gimme a hand again?"

"What do I get if I help you out?"

"How about I take you out for dinner?"

"I'm only joking" you chuckle surprised. "I don't need anything in return."

"I know you don't need it, but I still wanna do something nice for you."

You look out the window at the rain sprinkling against the glass as you consider his offer. But his eyes follow your gaze and he seems to read your mind.

Although it's light, you can tell from the dark clouds that there's more rain brewing in the sky still to come. The thought of getting all dolled up just to get caught in the cold rain isn't very enticing.

"How about a nice foot rub while you watch your favorite shows?"

"You don't have to do anything for me, babe. I'll help you regardless."

"I just wanna do something nice for you, baby."

"Well, I wouldn't refuse that," you reply shyly grinning from ear to ear.

"So, you see? Win-win" he smirks proudly leaning towards you to tenderly kiss your lips with slow and lazy repeated pecks.

"So?" Peck. "What do ya say?" Peck. "Gonna lemme take care of ya?" Peck.

He knows you can't say no to him when he kisses you like this.

"Alright" you giggle pulling away to admire his shit-eating grin with a gentle hand on his cheek. "I'll help you but it's not for the compensation. It's because I genuinely want to."

"Right. Cause you're such a good samaritan." He chuckles jokingly.

After breakfast, you load the dirty dishes away in the dishwasher while Brian takes a quick hot shower to soften the skin on his head and the growing hairs.

Once he's done, you take a kitchen chair to the bathroom as he gets a pair of boxers on and prepares the sink with all the things you'll need.

You can hear the rain already beating down against your apartment building outside and you're thankful you both agreed to stay in today.

"Good call on staying home, babe. Forecast said it wasn't supposed to rain 'til tomorrow."

"They fuck up sometimes though. I just really didn't want to go out today" you chuckle grabbing the shaving gel from the counter as he plants himself on the chair.

He closes his eyes and relaxes under your touch, enjoying your circling fingertips on his scalp that spread the shaving gel around.

You smile watching him nearly drift to sleep and ask if he's alright. With the job he has, Brian is used to being tense on alert all the time. Being able to simply relax without any care is a rare opportunity for him with the long hours spent circling the streets of Los Angeles.

He nods with a shameless smile and tells you how it feels when you massage his scalp.

You respond with a kiss to his forehead and continue your little massage just to let him relax a little longer.

Every stroke of the razor across his skin is done with gentle care, for which he is incredibly grateful for. You carefully swipe the sharp blades over and over and over again, pausing to rinse the hairs in the sinkful of water

Once you're done with the back, you move to stand between his legs to finish the front.

His hands wrap around the back of your thighs as they slowly slip up underneath Brian's large t-shirt that you wear as a dress.

He watches you bite your lower lip just as you used to do back in college when taking notes.

Thinking back to it, he can't believe that the same girl he thought had never even noticed him is now standing in front of him, taking care of him with such attention.

Brian's heart fills with a warm happiness as he thinks back to the early days when he'd first seen you. He never thought, in a million years, he'd have a chance to be yours. And yet, here he is.

"What should we have for dinner tonight?" you question.

"Why don't we just order in? I wanna spend some quality time with my girl" he smirks slyly cupping your asscheeks in his large hands, arousing you already.

"Sounds good to me."

[eefos]

I was wondering if someone here knows how to make a Fandom of Bullet Train or help me with it? (since it doesn’t exist yet)

please let me know!

[magickcandie]

I Want To Break Free

Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

You were invited to set by Roger. You had heard the song and loved everything about it; to John’s writing, Freddie’s singing, and you had heard that Roger decided on the theme of the music video. You assumed that somehow, a car would be involved. Boy were you wrong! When you were let in, you noticed John first in an old lady outfit with grey hair! Brian was seen next drinking tea in a set chair, wearing a pink nightie and rollers thrown in his curls. Of course seeing Freddie in a pink top and black leather skirt seemed so crazy, he seemed to be a natural in it. “You know, if you wanted to raid my closet, you could’ve asked!” You laughed. Doubling over, clutching your stomach as if that’s ease the pain of laughter. “Where’s Roger?” “I haven’t seen him yet. Maybe ask her.” John said, pointing to a blonde woman talking to a set director. You ignored the giggles coming off the boys and went over her. What you saw sent you into a fit again. When you tapped her shoulder, Roger turned and looked at you, smiling. A thin layer of pink lipstick on. “What’s… what’s going on!” You said in between laughs. You grabbed the counter to steady yourself but sunk to your knees anyway.

“I told you it’s make Y/N laugh!” Roger said, grabbing your hand and helping you stand again. “Roger set all of this up to try and get you to laugh. Or really seeing if you’d laugh.” Freddie leaned on John’s shoulder, throwing a leg in the air. “Don’t we all look great!” “You’re definitely something. The wigs, makeup, it’s all so great. You look beautiful,” you said to Roger, hooking his chin in your hand. “Kiss?” You leaned in to kiss him. “I’m staying for the entirety of filming. I wan to see how this plays out.” You laughed again, finding an empty chair to watch. And what a show it was. You had come to see John reading a newspaper and scowling at the others. Brian had a new costume piece; bunny slippers. Freddie danced around with a Hoover. God, this is why you loved these men. And especially Roger Taylor. Setting this up just to see you laugh and smile.

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

hi

could you please do a BoRhap request? Where she looks after the guys during recording since her family owns Rockfield Farm and they love her cooking? But the guys (minus Fred who has Mary) all fancy her too?

❤️

SOMEBODY TO LOVE

Pairings: John + Roger + Brian x Fem!reader Summary: ^^ Warnings: none, I don't think Note: I did my best guys, I'm sorry

a knock came to your door as you finished up breakfast

you left the kitchen and went to the front door

you opened the door to see a blonde with long hair with sunglasses on

he was wearing dark, slightly flared jeans, a yellow v neck shirt underneath a greeny grey jacket with fur

behind him was a short haired brunette with a mustache

he pushed the blonde out of the way and held out his hand

"hi, I'm paul, this is Roger, From Queen" he introduced

of course you knew Queen was coming to your family's farm, it wasn't like you didn't know who they were and wouldn't let them in, it's just that you felt Rogers gaze planted on you and it made you feel a little nervous

"you're not" Roger scoffed quietly

"yes, of course, come in, are the rest here too?" you asked, stepping out of the way to let them in

"they're sorting out their luggage" Roger answered, taking off his glasses

"well, I made breakfast..if you're hungry?" you smiled tightly

"depends what you're serving" Roger smirked and looked you up and down

"pancakes" you responded quickly

"yeah, I could eat"

he followed you to the kitchen and he took a seat, shovelling food onto the plate in front of him and started eating

a few minutes later Roger had finished his plate and went back for seconds

"ah there you are Freddie" Paul spoke up, noticing the other three band members by the door

"we're also here mate" the tall, long curly haired brunette said, seeming annoyed by Paul's presence

"should I show you boys to your rooms?" you wondered, breaking the silence that filled the room

The three boys standing at the door all turned to you

"didn't know the farm came with a pretty lady" the curly Brunette smiled

"oh I'm Y/n. this is my Family's Farm. I live in the building beside this one, I'm just here to show you around"

"are those pancakes for us?" the auburn haired one said

"oh, yes! you can have as many as you want" you pointed to the mountain of pancakes you had made on the counter

"they are delicious" Roger said with a mouthful of food

"well I'm Brian, This is Fred and John and I see you've already met Rog"

"it's a pleasure to meet you guys"

"pleasure's all ours darling" Freddie beamed

"well I'll show you your rooms then" you said taking off your apron and leading them upstairs

"it's probably not what you're used to but your manager said it was perfect to get away from distractions so" you shrugged

you turned to face the boys and see Roger first

"you're in here. mister Taylor" you looked to the first door

"right" he grunted, walking into the room with his heavy luggage

"and that's yours, Mister Mercury" you pointed to the room in the corner to the left

"thank you darling"

"Mister May, yours is right here" pointing to the right side next to the bathroom

Brian walked into the room and you noticed John still standing on the top of the stairs

"oh, sorry. mister Deacon, you're downstairs" he walks back down the stairs and you lead him down to the room.

"I know it's small but it doesn't get nearly as cold as the other rooms" you informed him

"okay..." he frowns as he steps down

"well I'll let you get settled then, i'll show you and the band around when you're ready" you smiled, starting to go up the stairs

"are there still pancakes?" he asked, putting his luggage down on the bed

"oh yeah, they'd probably still be warm too" you answered

he soon started following you up the stairs to the kitchen to find all the other members of the band eating the pancakes

"Rog really didn't lie, these pancakes are delicious" Brian hummed

"we need more syrup" Roger lifted up the empty bottle of maple syrup

"oh..ok" you walked over to the fridge as John took a seat and started eating the food

"here you go" you grinned, putting the syrup on the table in front of them

-

it's been a few days since they've arrived and much to your surprise, you've seen more of them then you expected

you didn't think you would see much of them, you thought thy would be very busy and you didn't have a problem with that

but Roger, Brian and John all seemed to want you around them

Roger would casually flirt with you

Brian would always start up a conversation or make you help with with a lyric

and John would subtly make eye contact and smile before coming up to you to ask for suggestions

and they would all ask if you could cook them up something when they got hungry and said they liked your cooking, so much so that there would be barely any left for Freddie or you.

Roger was currently helping you make breakfast while Brian and John sat and ate while they discussed songs

"i put my heart and soul into this song" Roger spoke up as they talked about his new song he made

"no one is disputing that" John smiled, lifting up his fork

"and you don't like it because you want your songs on the album" Roger fought

"it's not that Roger" John denied

"then what is it?" the blonde raised his eyebrows as he stopped cutting bread

"I'm in love with my car?" Brian spoke up

you fought back a laugh at the thought of the song

Brian and John both made a questionable face as silence filled the air

"maybe it's not strong enough?" Brian suggested

"what does that even mean 'not strong enough'?" Roger frowned

"I know I'm late. What did I miss?" Freddie came in and poured himself some tea

John straightened his back and looked at the singer "discussing Roger's car song"

"is it strong enough, that's all I'm asking. If I'm on my own here, then i apologise" Brian put his hands up defensively

"how does your new song go, then, hm?" Roger walked over and grabbed Brians lyrics

"you call me sweet.. like I'm some kind of cheese" the drummer read out

you stifled a laugh as you cooked bacon

"it's good" Brian defended, looking at the John who was eating a sausage with a smile and Freddie who was stirring his tea

"wow" Roger sighed sarcastically

"is that-, is that you know- when my hand's on your grease gun..That's very subtle isn't it?" Brian read Rogers back

"it's a metaphor, Brian" Roger argued

"it's just a bit weird Roger, what exactly are you doing with that car?" John spoke, waving his fork around

"what do you think, Y/n?" Roger turned to you, looking for backup

you put the now cooked bacon on a plate and turned to the boys

"don't turn to me, I'm not getting involved" you shook your head

"children please, we could all murder each other but then who would be left to record this album?" Freddie butted in

"statistically speaking, most bands don't fail, they break up" John stated mater-of-a-factly

"why the hell would you say something like that?" Freddie frowned

John shrugged and Freddie turned back to the Blonde

"Roger, there's only room in this band for one hysterical queen" Freddie informed the drummer before walking out

"you know why you're angry, Roger?" Brian began again

"...why?" Roger breathed out

"'cause you know you're song isn't strong enough" the curly headed man repeated

"boys I really don't think you should be-" you started to say but cut off by Roger throwing bacon at Brian's face

"is that strong enough?" Roger questioned

"ok" you mumbled, looking at John, who smiled at you amusingly

Roger pushed off plates and glasses off the table angrily

"what about that?!" he asked before going over to find something else

"Hey!" you yelled at Roger, who grabbed a pot of Coffee

he turned and began to swing it at the two boys before he stopped as they put their hands up

"Not the coffee machine!?" they both yelled

Roger put the coffee machine down and you sighed looking at the mess

"I'll clean this up" he sighed after a moment of silence

"you sure are" you nodded sternly

-

you sat in the recording room on the couch with John and Roger as Brian got ready to record his guitar

Roger slung his arm around your shoulder as Brian got set up

"so..how about we go get dinner later" he suggested

"pardon?" you wondered

"you, me, i'll take you out to dinner" he repeated

"I highly doubt she'll want to go out with you, Roger, she's too good for you" John sighed

"and what? you're better?" the drummer scoffed, looking over you to the auburn headed bassist

John stared at Roger for a moment

"how's katie? last time we saw her was right before we left to come here" the Deacon wondered

"shut it mate" Roger groaned

your thoughts were cut short as Brian started playing

you focused on the music but felt John's gaze on you, you slowly turned your head to see him staring at you, smiling

"so, do you have a boyfriend?" Roger asked

"I don't see how that's any of your business" you crossed your arms, looking back at Brian, who's still playing his solo

"what if I want to ask you out?" he shrugged

"how come you're the one that gets to ask her out?" John leans forward to argue with Roger

"because I can" the Taylor boy smirked

"Roger, do you have to be such a man whore?" John questioned, his accent become more defined and thick

"I think you're just jealous you don't get women chasing after you" Roger huffed, leaning back on the couch, seeming to be not fazed

"ah yes, because all i need is women to make me feel better about myself, all i need and want is women around me to fill a void of unfulfillment" John rolled his eyes

"oh yeah? let's see who she wants more then" Roger raises his eyebrows as he took off his glasses to look at you

John frowned "you can't pressure her into choosing either of us...that's not how relationships work, Roger"

Roger stifled a laugh "who said I wanted a relationship"

"my point exactly"

"all i'm saying" is that she's probably looking for somebody to love and i'm right here" Roger raised his hands in defense

"what makes you think she wants someone?" John glared

"children, children. leave the poor girl alone, she doesn't want either of you" Freddie butted in

you found yourself wondering how it came to this, two members of the band Queen almost practically fighting for your, to be with you

it made sense about Roger, seeing all of those tabloids of him with new girls around his shoulder almost every week

but John? he didn't really seem the type

you tuned out of the argument and soon wondered when Brian came back into the room as you looked up to find him sitting with Freddie

"I think whatever happens, it's up to her, you shouldn't be trying to force something she does not want" John fought

"what are you guys fighting about?"

"who gets to take this beautiful lady out" Roger smirked, nodding towards you

"who says either of you get to?" Brian spoke in a confused manner

"oh don't tell me you want her too?" Roger groaned

"what's so wrong about that?" the guitarist questioned

"I'm gonna go" you sighed, getting up

"are you still going to make us pasta tonight?" John perked up

you chuckled "I think you all need a break from my cooking"

"NO!!"

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

[thelastdj]

Green

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Queen!reader

Genre: flooff

Summary: after the infamous hair dye mishap, (y/n) changes their hair color in solidarity

Warnings: none

I woke up this morning to a loud shrieking coming from somewhere in the house.

“Roger?”

The bed next to me was empty and I got scared. What if something happened to him?

Another yell echoed through the house and I finally got up. There was an old tennis racket in the closet, which I grabbed as I carefully walked into the hall. It wasn’t gonna do much damage but at least it was something.

“Roger?” I called out again, “Are you there?”

“(y/n)?” his voice called from down the hall. Why on earth was he screaming in the bathroom at 7am on a Saturday?

I banged on the bathroom door, “Roger? Rog, are you okay? Open up.”

“I’m okay, don’t worry love”

“Then open up”

“I… I can't,” he said from the other side.

“Is the lock stuck? Hold on, I’ll go get a screwdriver-“

“No!” he sounded panicked.

“My god Roger you’re acting as if you’ve got a girl hidden in there,” I rolled my eyes before rethinking what I’d said, “You don’t, right?”

He scoffed, “Of course I don’t (y/n).”

“C’mon, then what’s so bad that you locked yourself in a bathroom?”

He paused for a few moments. “Please don’t laugh.”

The bathroom lock clicked and Roger finally opened it. At first he looked fine, still dressed in pajamas. And then I saw the atrocity he was hiding. His hair, his beautiful blond locks, that hair that everyone admired, was now a violent shade of green. His face was pulled into an almost comical frown. Despite his plea, I couldn’t help myself, the scene before me was just too funny.

“(y/n),” he whined, “You promised you wouldn’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you.”

“Yeah right,” he grumbled.

“Aw, come on Rog, it’s really not that bad,” I said, running my hands through his newly dyed hair.

“We have a show tonight (y/n)” he said, “I have to go out there with green hair for hundreds of people to see.”

•••

We arrived at the theater at 5pm for sound check. It was a nice place, room for over a thousand people, and we all had our own dressing rooms. I loved the rest of the band, but there were only so many flying hairbrushes I could dodge.

Naturally, the first thing we heard as we made our way backstage was Brian’s, “Nice hair mate.”

“Shut up,” Roger grumbled.

“Hi (y/n),” Brian greeted me cheerily before turning back to Roger, “What on earth were you trying to do?”

Roger desperately looked over at me for help. I just shrugged. As much as I felt bad for him, it was his own mess. And what a funny mess it was too.

“I was trying to dye it blonde,” he said in a small voice.

“Blonde?” John asked incredulously, “You were trying to dye your already blonde hair blonde?”

“I wanted a different kind of blonde.”

“Roger darling, I hate to break it to you but blonde is blonde,” Freddie joked.

“(y/n) they’re bullying me.”

“Aww come here you poor thing,” I dramatically threw my arms around him, “You boys leave Roger alone. Run off and tune your instruments now.”

“You’re no fun,” Freddie replied in mock-annoyance.

But they did leave, one by one, all going to their own dressing room to get ready. The start of the show was drawing nearer by the minute and there were costumes to be donned and guitars to be tuned and eyeliner to be perfected. I too had a lot of preparing to do. There was something I had planned that might make Roger feel at least a little better about his hair.

“Is my hair really that bad?” Roger asked once everyone else had left.

Though he had laughed off the other’s comments, he sounded genuinely worried about going on tonight. I hadn’t seen him like this before a show since the band had started.

“I promise, it’s not as bad as they’re saying. You know them, they have to poke a little fun. They don’t mean it,” I reassured him.

Roger nodded and kissed me gently on the forehead.

“Am I still pretty though?” he asked, batting his eyes. He was right back to his old self.

“You’re still the prettiest boy here.”

“Reeeally?”

“Yes, now go get ready!” I laughed.

He kissed me one last time and headed off to his own dressing room.

We still had an hour left before the show, if I hurried up I would be ready just in time to go on.

•••

“FIVE MINUTES,” a voice boomed through the hall.

I looked in the mirror one last time, messing up my hair just enough to look good, and not like my hairdryer had exploded. The rest of the band was already strapping on guitars and doing last minute warm ups when I got there. Roger’s eyes grew wide as he saw me.

“(y/n)?” he asked in disbelief, “What did you do to your hair?”

Even in the dim backstage lighting, the dyed orange hue of my hair was clearly visible.

“I dyed it,” I explained, “Now you’re not the only one who’s going on looking like they’re from the circus.”

Roger shook his head, “That’s the nicest, and probably dumbest, thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he smiled, “Thank you (y/n/n).”

“Anything for you darling,” I said, giving him a quick kiss.

“TWO MINUTES,” the voice called again.

“Can I ask one thing?”

“Yeah?”

“Why orange?“ he asked jokingly before adding, “At least my green looks cool.”

“Bowie had orange hair and he looks cool as fuck,” I countered.

“I guess you’re right,” he conceded.

“ONE MINUTE.”

Roger quickly leaned over and kissed me. “Good luck,” he smiled and quickly headed over to his drum kit.

I strapped on my guitar and looked over to him one more time. His green hair clashed fantastically with his white shirt. Roger raised his eyebrows as he caught my stare.

I shot him a quick wink as the final call came, “AND… SHOWTIME!”

The last thing I saw before turning to face the crowd was Roger wink back at me. The crowd’s screams and claps were deafening, but soon enough Freddie’s voice overpowered even that.

[bitchysoulwasteland]

Hangman X Mercury!Daughter Reader

(A/n: Yet another one of my *insert a franchise* x queen band reader fics. I'm not even sorry for this. XD. It takes place modern day, so just imagine Live Aid now, basically. Also, for the sake of the fic, Jim Hutton will be an Admiral at Top Gun. Just go with it. Do not repost. Enjoy.)

The crowd roared as you, (your father) Freddie Mercury and your uncles, Brian May and John deacon, along with your godfather, Roger Taylor bowed. As you stood back up from the bow, the sound of a plane engine came overhead. You looked up and saw Jake's F-18 barrel rolling over Wembley Stadium. You laughed and shook your head and did a slight salute to him.

Five hours later, you walk into the Hard Deck and see the entire of the Dagger Squad crowded around a TV which was re-running Live Aid. You smirk when you see that everyone's eyes are glued to Queen's set, more specifically, your solo during Hammer To Fall.

"Damn, I look good onstage." you mutter to Penny as she hands you a beer and you give her the money. "Thanks." You see your other father, five-star admiral, Jim Hutton, call sign 'Bud'. You smile at him as you give a small salute.

"I say your performance, Y/n. I'm sorry I couldn't be there to see it." His soft, Irish accent came as a welcome, yet familiar, change as he pulled you in for a hug.

"It's fine, we c'n still see it. Apparently the BBC are still showing it." You say, gesturing to a TV, which had it on. Jake watched as you interacted with the Admiral. 'How the hell did you know him?' he thought before going back to watch you on the screen. He smirked as the concert set was finished and the sound of a plane thundered overhead. On the screen, you looked up and smiled, shaking your head before doing a mini salute. "I think that was quite a nice touch, personally." You say to your father who is sitting beside you and watching the screen. "Papa should be coming with the guys. I left just after they started talking to Mick Jagger."

"I think your pilot wants to talk with you, love." He said, gesturing to Jake, who had walked over. "I'll leave you two be." He walked to the outside tables and sat down.

"That was some move, Hangman." You smirked as he stood beside you.

"Glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart.” Jake responded as the Dagger Squad’s jaws dropped.

“Hi, um, I’m Y/n Mercury.”

“Thought you were going by Hutton-Mercury.” Phoenix piped up. She had been friends with you ever since you had ran into her the night you met Jake.

“Nah, Mercury on Stage, Hutton-Mercury for government shit a-“

“And Seresin everywhere else.” Jake whispered in your ear but you knew full well that everyone herd him.

“You ain’t put a ring on it, so I ain’t changing it yet.”

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

Welcome Home - Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Okay so I know a handful of people have done this, but I am a sore sucker for hurt Roger.  Roger comes home from their first big tour and he's in pain from the constant physical demand of being a drummer. Also a little bit of angst but mainly fluff then soft smut near the end.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of drugs and alcohol, pain (none inflicted by anybody, but if you are not a fan of reading about people in pain then skip this one), anxiety, smut (penis in vagina sex, riding, dirty talk/mention of masturbation, unprotected sex, no aftercare), note: the smut is fairly vanilla/soft, so if you aren't a fan of having the vagina referred to as a 'cunt' then you're fine to read this.

Word count: 4.1k

Enjoy!

     The crowd which surrounded you was yelling like you had never heard before. You were so proud of the kind of fanbase the band had attracted for themselves. The boys hadn't appeared on stage yet, and you knew all four band members were freaking out. They were about to perform at The Rainbow Theatre in London. Groups like The Who, Genesis, Jimi Hendrix and David Bowie had played there in the past, all people who influenced the guys. You were nervous for them, but you knew they would do excellent.

     Roger sits on a fold-out chair, carefully removing the wraps from his fingers. Luckily his sores had healed since the last show. His back still aches along with involuntary tremors from anxiety. The Rainbow was one of the most famous theatres in London. In their eyes, if you played at The Rainbow, you made it.

     “Have a beer, Roger. Might calm you down,” Brian suggested. “Don’t want a fuckin’ beer,” Roger replied hoarsely. Not only were they about to play in front of a sold-out show of 2,802 people, but the whole set was also going to be broadcasted on The Old Grey Whistle Test and the radio, as well. Beer wasn't going to help the nerves.

     Brian let out a sigh before taking a sip of his Coca-Cola. “Well, at least you have Y/n to watch,” he said. You haven't been able to watch the entire tour while you were stuck at home in London due to work, so you were glad you were able to watch the last show. “That's the worst part,” Roger mutters. “What if I mess up? I’ll humiliate myself in front of her and half of fuckin’ London.”

     “You’ll be fine, Roger. We made plenty of mistakes on stage throughout the tour. And if you make a mistake tonight, who cares? Whos going to notice and print on next week's paper ‘Queens drummer Roger Taylor messed up on stage’?” Brian asks in his fake coach-like tone. “Nobody. And especially not Y/n.

     Roger slowly looks up at Brian, removing his face from his palms. “Youre right,” he says. “Now let's go up on stage,” Brian grins as he gives roger a hand and all four head out of the dressing room.

     You watch as the house lights begin to dim. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as the camera crew and radio men made sure everything was correct. You watch as a man in a white tuxedo comes out onto the stage, it was Bob Harris. You had spoken to him before, he was kind.

     “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Queen!” he says proudly before you hear the familiar sound of Brian's guitar. You were amazed by the show. The use of colourful lights and smoke was perfect. You hadn't seen the boys play on such a big stage like this. You were so proud of them. 

     As the show comes to an end, Brian begins playing strong power cords along with some feedback from the amps. Roger bangs hard on the drums, and you watch as he knocks them over. He furiously throws them off the drum risers, Freddie and John getting out of the way just in the nick of time. That wasn't like him. Sure, he had an anger issue and often had tantrums over things, but he never took things out in front of fans.

     You feed your way through the crowd, finding the side door which was guarded by a crew member. You flash your VIP card at them and you are quickly let in. You are greeted by Freddie cautiously sipping on cold water, while Brian was icing his fingertips. “You guys were great!” you praise them before addressing the situation on stage. “Thank you, my dear,” Freddie replies through gulps. He finishes his cup before he stands up and gives you a hug. “Roger can’t wait to see you,” he tells you. “About Roger. Where is he?” you ask since he wasn't in the dressing room.

     “You saw his little outburst. He might be in the bathroom or one of the dressing rooms down the hall,” he tells you, and you thank him. “Tell me everything about the tour later, I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit!” you say with a smile as you leave the dressing room on the hunt for Roger.

     You pass by his roadie and close friend, Chris “Crystal” Taylor. “Crystal, have you seen Roger?” you ask. “He’s in dressing room five. I tried to talk to him but he told me to leave him alone,” he tells you. “Thanks,” you reply and go down the hall to dressing room five.

     You knock lightly, unconsciously not wanting your knock to sound masculine so you wouldn't be sent away immediately. You hear a groan from the other side of the door. Roger was sat on a small couch, gripping his hair in anger while his feet stomped. He had already disorganized the entire counter along with kicking any piece of furniture he could find. “Roger,” you say as you slowly open the door.

     He perks up at the sound of your voice. “Y/n?” he asks. He stood up, seeing your worried gaze staring back at him. He hugs you with the force of a thousand lost men. “I missed you so much…” he whispered into your ear. His angered and broken voice rang throughout your head, and you hug him back.

     “I’m so sorry. I got angry on stage, and- and I broke the kit, and you had to see me like that,” Roger says. “I was just so nervous about playing in front of everybody, and I didn't want to disappoint you and I did exactly what I was trying not to do,” he whimpered into your neck. All his outward anger was gone. All that was in his heart was remorse.

     “Roger,” you say, taking his cheeks into your palms and looking at him. You use your thumbs to slowly wipe away the tears. “You didn't disappoint me,” you tell him. “You did amazing. I just knew you would,” you smile.

     Roger slowly smiles back at you as tears form in his eyes again. It was so hard to be away from you for so long. His strong and callused hands grip your waist and his shaky breath blew against your lips. He slowly kisses you, tears running down his face as his eyelids meet. You missed his touch. You missed his kisses. You wished that your welcome home to him was under different circumstances. He parts from the kiss, his face returning to the crook of your neck as he begins to cry. You heard his voice breaking as sobs come from him.

     “Baby, why are you crying?” you ask as you gently run your hands through his sweaty hair. “I just missed you so much…” he whispered. “And… and I don’t deserve you…” he confesses. Every day he questions why you haven't left him yet.

     It takes you every ounce of strength in your body not to start crying with him. “Don't say that, my love” you tell him. You place a kiss on his cheek as you feel his shaky grip become tighter around you. You have seen Roger in emotional states like this, but he had never presented himself to be this vulnerable before.

     You bring his gaze to yours, yet again wiping the tears from his eyes. “Let's go home,” you say. “But- the after party,” he says, and you shut him up with a single finger on his lips. “Your well-being is more important than an after-party,”

     After a couple of gentle kisses on the lips and forehead, and two or more tears shed, Roger agrees to go home.

     You arrive home with Roger. He sighs as he enters the apartment, and he slowly removes his shoes and jacket. “Are you hungry? I can order some food if you’d like,” you suggest, and he nods. “Japanese, please,” he says. “I was going to order that. I know it's your favourite,” you smile and give him a soft kiss on the cheek. “You go get changed while I order it,” you tell him. Roger walks off and enters your shared bedroom. He hadn't been there in months. It was exactly as he left it, maybe a bit cleaner, but still the same comforting bedroom.

     He changes into a t-shirt and sweatpants. It had been ages since he wore comfortable clothes. Most nights he ended up sleeping in his leather pants and button-up because he was too exhausted or drunk to change.

     You walk into the bedroom, Japanese food in hand and you see Roger laying stomach-first on the bed. “The food is here,” you tell him as you shake him out of his half-awake state. “Oh,” he says groggily and sits up. He takes his portion of the food and begins eating after he thanked you.

     “Tell me all about the tour,” you tell him with a smile.

     “The fucking tour…” Roger muttered. “I was great and all, but physically it was horrible,”

     “What do you mean?” you ask as you slowly place a hand on his back. Roger hisses as you touch the sensitive muscles on his back. “That-” he says. You frown. “My whole body hurts. My back, my hands, my legs. Pretty sure I sprained my ankle. First I tried painkillers, but they only helped for a bit. I tried drinking, and I tried drugs. It helped for a bit, but when I come down from it everything hurts again. Fuck- jerking off didn't even help. Fred said it would but it didn't,”

     You could hear the pain and frustration in his voice. “Rog, baby, if you were hurting all tour you should have asked to go home early,” you tell him. “I wanted to, believe me, I did. But I couldn't, the band depended on me, just like I depend on them. Plus every show was sold out. I couldn't leave.

     “Why don’t I run you a bath?” you suggest. “The hot water might help ease your muscles, then we can go to bed,” you tell him.

     “You think that will help?” he asks. “It should help your muscles, at least. I’ll bandage your ankle up and if your pain gets any worse we can go to the doctor,” you say. “I’d like a bath, then,” he smiles softly. “Okay,” you tell him and gave him a kiss before you stood up and walked to the bathroom to run the bath.

     About 10 minutes later Roger looks up from his book when you walk into the bedroom. He rips off his reading glasses and puts away the book he was reading. He hated his reading glasses, you loved how they looked. He never believes you, of course.

     “Bath is done,” you tell him. He stands up from the bed and follows you to the bathroom. He sees as you put epsom salt and some bubbles into the water and mix it with your hand. “Thank you, baby,” he smiles and gives you a warm kiss before he undressed and got into the tub. You couldn't help but watch. You hadn't seen him naked in almost 3 months besides the naughty polaroid photos he left behind for you. But, right now was not the time for lust. Your job as his partner was to comfort him.

     Roger hisses as he leans down into the scorching hot water. “Too hot?” you ask worriedly. “Little bit, but that’s probably good,” he says. He slowly adjusts to the temperature and leans his head back onto the cold tile.

     The two of you had shared baths before. Roger had suggested it once a while back as a bonding moment. He made it quite romantic. There were much more bubbles than the current bath, and he poured you both a glass of wine with candles. Even if it felt a bit cheesy, you loved it.

     “I’ll be in the bedroom when you're done,” you tell him and stand up to leave. “Y/n,” he says, grabbing your dry hand with his wet one. “Don’t leave,”

     You look down at him, his wide, remorseful eyes staring back at you. “You're doing all this stuff for me, getting food, running me a bath. If I were you I’d be struggling to keep my hands to myself,” he says. “It's nice to have a welcome home like this, so stay. The last thing I want is to not be able to see you, or hear your voice, or smell you…”

     If you weren't his girlfriend, you’d be creeped out by the last sentence. But you had to admit, you felt the same. Even just a reminiscing smell that was similar to Rogers's cologne or sweat brought you comfort.

     “Okay, I’ll stay,” you smile. You sit down on the floor mat, still holding his hand in yours. “Is the bath helping?” you ask. “A bit. It does feel nice on my muscles,” he replies. “Maybe you could give me a massage after?”

     “Is that an excuse to have my hands all over you?” you tease with a smirk. “Partly,” he grins and gives you a superficial kiss as he purses his lips at you. You laugh and nudge him a bit. “Creep,” you joke. “You can't deny it, you love that creep,” he barks back at you. He always made you blush, even with the simplest of words.

     Roger slowly brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing your hand gently before resting his cheek against it. “I love you…” he whispers. You smile softly. “I love you too,” you whisper back. You lean over, giving him a slow and loving kiss. “Why don't you join me?” he asks, using his hand to tap the water a bit. “I already showered today,” you tease. Roger groans with a smirk. “You always play hard to get,” he chuckles.

     Roger stayed in the tub for almost forty-five minutes before he gave you the queue he was ready to get out. You handed him a towel and he wrapped it around his waist. “Don't forget that massage,” he grins. “Don’t worry, I didn't,” you giggle. He was always so needed sometimes.

     You lead him back to the bedroom once you grabbed the massage oil from under the bathroom sink. He lays down on the bed, taking off his towel as he did. You could feel the smirk on his face. “Cover your arse,” you tell him, even if it was cute. “You're no fun,” he laughs and puts the towel back on.

     You put the tiniest amount of oil on your hands, rub it between your palms to warm the liquid before gently rubbing it up and down Roger's back. “Where does it hurt, baby?” you ask. “My upper back, near my shoulders, and my spine,” Roger says while burying his face into his arms. You begin kneading his shoulders, digging your thumbs into his muscles. “Fuck-” he groans. “Hurts?” you ask. “Yes,” he mutters. “Sorry,” you reply, placing a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. “It's okay.”

     You knead his muscles slower, adding less pressure so you could ease him onto it. You worked on one section, and once Roger gave you the okay, you added a bit more pressure, and then more after. He groans again as you push harder. “I’m sorry,” you say. “No- no, keep going,” he whispers. “Fuck-” he growled.

     It felt so good but hurt at the same time. “You’re great with your hands, Y/n,” he tells you. “In multiple ways,” he smirks. “Oh shut the fuck up,” you laugh.

     After half an hour or so of massaging, you were finally done, and by the time you had finished, Roger was almost asleep. “You’re done, love,” you whisper to him with a gentle kiss on his cheek. That was able to wake him up from his light sleep. “Thank you, babe…” he mumbled as he pushed himself up. He sighs as he moves his spine. “It feels much better,” he smiles, and you smile back at him. “I’m glad it does,” you tell him, and give him a kiss on the lips.

     Roger sits up, taking the towel from his behind and wrapping it around his waist once again. “You know,” he says, looking over at the clock on your nightstand. “The night isn't over yet,” he smirks. You knew exactly what he meant. “You're right, it isn't,” you say. “I have another welcome home gift for you,” you hum before you kiss him. It was gentle and soft. You always played hard to get with him, even if Roger acted as if he hated it, it made the night feel even more erotic.

     Rogers' hands make their way to your waist, gripping your shirt before they venture under the fabric. “Somebody is needy,” you tease. “I haven't seen you… in months. Of course, I'm needy,” he says between kisses. You shiver at his touch. Even if you loved teasing him, you couldn't resist him either.

     Your hands run down his bare chest as the kiss becomes more sensual. Roger was always the first one to use his tongue, and you didn't mind, especially right now. “You know,” you begin through a small moment of a parting of your lips. “When you were gone…” you whisper, trailing your kisses down his neck to suck hot sores onto his skin. “I used to ride my pillow… pretending it was you,”

     Shivers went through Roger's body as you spoke. He held back a moan, letting out a soft groan instead. “Yeah? What other dirty things did you do while I was gone?” he asks against your ear while his hands tried to undress you. “I’d moan your name as if you were in the room,” you tell him, letting the lewd noises of your wet kisses echo through his ears. “I’d touch myself in the shower and pretend it's your hand…” you whisper. “I’d even go as far as touching myself while reading your interviews in magazines,”

     “Fuck…” Roger whimpered. He was already hard as a rock at the thought of you doing all those outlandish things just because you missed him. “Well, the real thing is here, now. No need to pretend,” he hummed. He takes off your shirt and shudders as he cups your bra. He bit his lip at the sight of your breasts. He had looked at them in the dirty polaroid you gave him, but finally seeing them in person, even with a bra, felt so rewarding. “I need you, baby…” he whispered.

     You push him down onto the bed. You were much more forceful than you had ever been. “I love when you beg,” you grinned. You begin undoing your pants after Rogers's many failed attempts. “Please…” he whimpered. “I jerked off almost every night to that little sexy photo I have of you… just wasn't the same-” he says breathily.

     Once your pants were off, which felt like forever for Roger, you straddle his hips. He hisses as your panties rub against his cock. “Baby- please…” he begs. “Please, what?” you ask in your menacing teasing tone. “Please fuck me,” Roger says. He wasn't afraid to beg. If he had to beg you to get what he wanted, he would. You grin. You slowly remove your underwear and toss them to the side. It took every ounce of strength in Roger's body not to grab your panties and smell them.

     You lift your hips, letting his tip run through your folds. You were already soaking wet for him. “Shit-” Roger mutters. His tip twitched against your wetness. You reach behind yourself, slowly unclipping your bra and sliding it off. The desperate and amazed look on Roger's face almost made you laugh. He looked like a child in a candy store. Rogers' shaky hands reach up to gently cup your breasts. His thumbs run over your nipples and he watches as they become pointy in his hold.

     “Are you ready?” You ask in a similar fashion to how he asked you the first time you had sex. “I’ve been ready,” he huffs. You smirk at the desperate look on his face. You feel Roger's hands slowly run down to your hips, ready in position to help guide you. You slowly sink down onto his cock once you aligned his tip with your entrance. You let out a whine as he finally goes inside you. You have used dildos occasionally while he was gone, but it never felt the same.

     “Fuck, baby…” Roger groaned as you squeeze around his length. His hands grip your waist, knuckles on the verge of going white. His hands and your body begin to move in unison. “Oh, Roger…” you whisper between soft moans. Your hips slowly move up and hit down onto Roger's pelvis. The first bounce of many made you whine and made Roger bite back a moan.

     “Faster…” Roger begs quietly, and you comply. You needed to be faster, you needed him. His hands helped your hips move as you rode him. You were weak with arousal, and it took great strength to move your hips.

     Every movement sent waves through your body, rewarding Roger with the sound of your sweet moans every time his cock hit just the right spot inside you. “You feel so good, baby…” Roger whispers before letting out a groan. His head was swimming. Every time he watched the way your breasts moved with your hips, or how his cock disappeared inside of you, he moaned almost femininely.

     By now, you were bouncing on Roger like it was your last day on Earth. And your moans were erotically loud. Roger shouted obscenities that would have his mother fuming from the unholy words, but neither of you cared. You needed each other more than you needed air. You needed each other's body and soul. You knew that after this night, not only would you both be sore, but you would have an angry note from your elderly neighbour the next morning.

     “Babe- fuck, I’m close…!” you moan. Your face was unpleasing to you, with your eyebrows scrunched together and your mouth hanging open. Roger loved the sight, but, he could barely look because he was engulfed in pleasure. It was a strain to open his eyes.

     “Cum for me, love,” Roger tells you. “Cum,” he repeats. You couldn't feel your body besides the constant pleasuring feeling of Rogers' length plunging in and out of you. You had lost full control of your hips, but the rewarding feeling was too strong to stop. “Cum all over my cock,” it was so erotic to say something like that, although it wasn't the worst of the dirty talk that Roger had in store. But, it was enough for you to finally go over the edge.

     You moan loudly as Roger's cock hits just the right spot, and you tighten around him. “Fuck!” you moan, along with multiple other forms of The Lord's name used in vain. Roger groans as your walls squeeze around his length. “Y/n…!” he moaned before his cum spewed into you. You were both wet and sticky with each other's arousal. It felt disgusting but you loved it.

     Roger pulled you against his chest, groaning into your neck as he gripped your hair. His arms were around you in a bear hug, chest heaving against yours with a silent promise to never let you go.

     “Rog…” you whisper. Roger took a moment to answer, he could hardly breathe. “Y-yes?” he asks. “I love you…” that made him smile. “I love you, too…” he whispers back.

     You didn't dare to move, and neither did Roger. “I don't have it in me for a second round, baby…” you whisper. “It's okay, me either,” he huffs. You slowly lift your head from the crook of his neck, you see the weak smile on his lips and you couldn't help but smile back. You kiss him, gently like before. “Want me to-” he hisses as you slowly lift your hips, removing his length from your pussy. “Want me to clean you up?” he asks.

     You shake your head. “No,” you tell him. You roll over, resting your head in your hand as your look at him. Roger's hand gently caresses your cheek, twirling a strand or two of hair around his finger. You noticed the sores on his fingers where calluses usually were, but you didn't comment on it.

      You were so beautiful, sometimes he didn't believe that you were his. He often questioned his religion because of you. He didn't understand how he could be given such a goddess-like being like yourself without the help of some higher deity to bless him with such a gift.

     “Now can you tell me about the tour?” you ask, and he smiles. “Sure,” he says, and he began rambling on about the great time he had in America, leaving out the parts about his pain. You had helped him with his wounds, and he finally felt at peace again.

[rogertaylorshbb]

"studio stress" roger Taylor x reader fanfic [part 1]

hey, I just wanna say sorry if the ending of this part is sloppy to anyone, I wrote on half of it yesterday, and I was writing the other half today but I was eating spicy noodles at the same time lol. anyway hope you enjoy this and part 2 will be posted soon!!

You pulled up slowly in front of the studio parking outside. You were dreading going inside.  It has been a stressful week for you. You were so tired, sleeping less than 4 hours last night doing large amounts of paperwork and having to work the night shift at your other job.

You weighed your head down between your arms on the steering wheel, your eyes began to swell “dont cry dont cry, don't cry” you whispered to yourself whipping your cheeks with your sleeve. You looked in your car mirror, you hoped that when you went in the studio no-one would notice your red eyes and puffy cheeks. 

You shuffled into the studio seeing brian at a desk. “Oh hey y/n” he waved. You smiled shyly and walked towards Freddie with some printed lyrics. “Here- I- printed them last night for you” you said, slurring your words together like a drunk.

“Thank you” freddie beamed while taking a sip of his coffee. “Ok everyone lets record!”.

John walked over to you handing you a little cup of hot, black coffee, “here, looks like you need it”. “Thanks John, I do” you laughed, falling back into a chair. 

You couldn't bear to sit in that studio next to the producer while they were recording. The loud beat of the drums, the screeching of Brian's guitar, and John's repetitive bass playing. Your pounding headache and sensitive ears couldn't take it so you tapped the producer on the shoulder and told him you were gonna go outside for a break.

You sat outside on the scrub, dropping your head on your knees, your arms resting on your head. You could almost fall asleep but you knew you would get in trouble and just look useless and that the band would probably fire you.

After what seemed 10 minutes you heard footsteps coming towards you. 

“Hey, you ok” Roger asked sitting down next to you. 

You lifted your head up “yea, just- very stressed”.

“Oh well, I'm here if you want to talk,” he assured, placing his hand on your back. 

“Thanks roger but i don't want to annoy you with my problems you should focus on the band” you nodded at him. 

“You're just as important as the band y/n” he smiled. “Doubt it” you blushed, shaking your head. You and Roger talked for a bit, and Roger ended up rambling about his childhood cat.

“Anyway” he sighed. He stood up taking a deep breath and held out his hand “cmon, i'll let you try out the drums”.

You took his hand as he pulled you up, you stumbled a bit when you got on your feet, lucky he was there to make sure you didn't fall.

You both strolled into the studio and were a bit confused when none of the band was there. 

Only one of the guys that worked there was there. “Um hey, where is everybody?” Roger asked. 

“Oh they all went up to that fancy place up the street, they said they would be back in a bit” Mark said grabbing his jacket “I'm off my shift now though, make sure to close the lights if you guys wanna leave. 

Roger stumped his foot and shook his head “why didn't they come get us?! Idiots”. 

“Haha, it doesn't matter, I always pack my own lunch anyway” you chuckled, reaching for your handbag pulling out a sandwich. 

“Here, you can have half,” you said, handing him one half. “No no, it's ok” he waved his hands softly. 

You both sat down on the couch and you asked Roger to tell you a funny story about his childhood while you ate. “Funny? I don't think I have a lot of funny ones, annoying ones and ones of me throwing tantrums that probably made my mum wish she never had children, sure”. 

‘Well, go on!” 

Roger told you about some stories of him and his little sister. You nearly choked on your sandwich from laughing “woah woah, don't choke '' he laughed.

You claimed yourself down. 

“So, you were really a trouble maker huh?” 

“Uh huh” he smirked, stretching his arm out over the couch. 

@sarcastic-sourwolf

[likesomekindofcheese]

Sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you could write a Roger Taylor x guitarist reader fluff story, I haven’t been able to find any. (No pressure)

Hi, there anon! I hope you find this! I know I have had BAD writer's block for the Queen Fandom and lack of inspiration to write but I hope you get this and you like it!

Anon, if and when you get this, please send me a dm or ask so I know you got it! Thanks!

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COMMENTS, REBLOGS, AND ASKS OR DMS ABOUT MY WRITING IS APPRECIATED!!!!

Roger Taylor Dating a Guitarist Would Look Like...

First off, we love Rog and he can be a lil shit so he will get competitive and try to get his own guitar to riff off with you. He plays something, and you play something more elaborate. The other band members gather with popcorn, their heads going from one space to another like cats with a toy. It's like "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" but with guitars instead of fiddles. And no way will he let you win (unless you kiss him).

He tries to serenade you and then you give critiques of his form or playing snarkily and he goes "OHHHH Y/N, I was trying to be romantic!" and you both laugh it off. You both enjoy teasing each other like that.

Many Guitarists tend to be more relaxed and creative in their personalities and Roger loves that about you. It makes you so peaceful and fun to hang around and date!

One time for his birthday you write a song for him!!! And he loves it and even cries. Normally, he's the one writing for his muses never the other way around!! So he hugs you and gives you a big ol' smooch!

Both of you talk for hours about his songwriting- his ideas and the various songs you both play. What's easy, what's hard, what you want to learn, etc. (Plus Brian and Freddie Third Wheel so it becomes the guitarist circle)

Once there was a party that was getting very dull very quickly. (Someone suggested hard drugs and that guy was shut down quickly). So you got out your guitar and you and Roger began to duet. People started to request songs and you would try to see if you or Roger could play them- carefully switching the guitar between you two and enjoying the challenge.

Often your fingers are very calloused from all the playing and Roger will flip your hand onto the palm and kiss those lil'finger tips out of affection!!

[magickcandie]

Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

(not my gif)

You weren’t necessarily dating Roger but it was well known he favored you. Everyone liked being around you but it wasn’t the same as it was with Roger. However on this particular afternoon, you had received a phone call from Brian and he didn’t disclose that much information. He said the address of the hotel and just said “Quick! It’s Roger.” Frankly that could mean a lot of things but either way you were on the next taxi there. When you had reached the door, you carefully knocked on it. Immediately it swung open and John ran from the room. His shirt was ripped, hanging on his shoulder. Freddie followed after, not bothering to say anything but one thing. “The gremlin is in there.” You peeked through the door and saw Brian talking to Roger who… was holding a TV! “Roger?” “Y/N! Thank God!! Help me! Your boyfriend is insane!” Brian shouted. You wanted to laugh. “What’s happening?” “He was angry after rehearsal.” “Angry at who?” “All of them! They’re ruining my song!” Roger shouted, taking a threatening step towards the window. Brian rolled his eyes. “It just needs help, Rog. Doesn’t mean you need to throw a telly out the window.” “You can go, Bri, I can handle this.” He seemed more than happy to leave and turned to exit the hotel room. “Come on, Rog, put it down. What if we get a drink instead?” It took a little more persuading and having to actually grab the TV from him, but you managed to walk him down to the bar. You thought about Brian said. “Brian said something.” Roger said first. “Oh? Right. Do you… I mean-” “Y/N, I really like you. I think you’re on of the best things to happen to me.” You smiled at him, taking his hand in yours. “I fancy you too, Roger.” He nudged your shoulder, clinking your glasses together and taking a drink.

Freddie held his hand on his hip. “Damn.” “I told you I’d win.” “Did you plan for Roger to angry! You could’ve planned anything else so he didn’t rip my shirt.” John argued, looking down at his borrowed shirt from Freddie. “No I didn’t plan for his anger. I just said boyfriend in front on Y/N and hoped she’d over think it.”

[anne-white-star]

Eddit : creddit for this meme to @beatlemaniac00

[benismyqueen]

HOME — Roger Taylor

Resumen: Cuando tus padres te echan de casa, sin trabajo y ningún tipo de dinero, tienes suerte de que dos personas casi tan locas como tú, decidan que seas su compañera de piso.

Advertencias: ninguna. Quizá un poco de angustia por disfunciones familiares. Y mucho amor por Freddie y Roger siendo domésticos.

Palabras: 1.506

"Amor, ¿crees que necesitarás esto?" Freddie saca del armario un vestido demasiado bonito de flores.

"Supongo que no. Es pleno invierno, necesito lo esencial, me están echando de casa, ¿recuerdas?" Abres la bolsa más grande que encuentras, en algún momento la usaste en tu viaje a holanda hace unos años.

"¡Pero es demasiado bonito!"

"Freddie, mi espacio es limitado, necesito ropa de invierno."

El moreno se deja caer en la cama con el vestido aún entre sus manos. No piensa rendirse sin luchar lo suficiente. Le parece increible que simplemente vayas a dejar ese vestido atrás.

"¿Y qué harás en verano?" Intenta razonar.

"No sé Freddie... Quizá pueda sacrificar alguno de mis pantalones y cortarlos." Consigues varios de tus jerseys más gordos y los metes en la bolsa, junto algunas camisetas y cuatro pantalones. Con un poco de imaginación puedes conjuntar esas prendas en unos ocho looks diferentes.

Freddie aprovecha que vuelves tu vista al armario para meter el vestido debajo de la ropa en la bolsa.

"¿Y dónde irás?"

"Freddie" Estás demasiado agobiada pensando en cosas óptimas que sean necesarias para tu supervivencia a partir de ahora. "Pensé que venías para ayudarme, no para agregar presión a mis hombros." Lo tomas de la mano para que se levante de la cama.

"Perdona. Solo me preocupo." Pasea su vista por tus baldas llenas de libros, vinilos, y cosas varias. "¿Llevarás algunos libros?"

"Supongo que los de la universidad. No creo que pueda llevar más." Metiendo tu neceser con tus productos de aseo, peines, y algo de maquillaje terminas de llenar la primera bolsa. "Quizá me lleve mi edición especial de Mujercitas."

"Tienes también la de Orgullo y Prejuicio, El Hobbit y tu colección de vinilos"

"Freddie..."

"Si, si, solo lo esencial"

Al final terminas sacando una mochila mediana y caes en la tentación de llevarte algunas libretas, una pequeña caja con tus recuerdos más simbólicos como fotos, collares, algunos pósters de cantantes que te gustan y una manta que te bordó tu abuela. Freddie no se puede resistir y carga en sus brazos tu colección de vinilos y los libros.

"¿Qué? Vas a dejarlos aquí... En mi casa nos hace falta decoración, estás invitada a venir y usarlo cuando quieras" Te ríes y echando un último vistazo a lo que era tu habitación, y cierras la puerta. "Entonces... ¿dónde pasarás la noche?"

"Supongo que podré ir a casa de mi amiga Lucy. Quizá me deje quedarme un par de días, hasta que encuentre un trabajo y un departamento."

"El trabajo está muy mal en Londres"

"Gracias Freddie"

"Los alquileres no son baratos" Salís a la calle siendo recibidos por el frío invierno.

"Freddie, necesito palabras de aliento no..."

"Ven a vivir conmigo"

Conociste a Freddie hace unos meses. Era verano, y acudiste con tus amigas a un pub, queríais beber un poco y pasar un buen rato. Pero tus amigas quizá bebieron demasiado, y terminaste sola en el pub, agobiada buscando a dos chicas borrachas.

Un hombre más o menos mayor, y borracho intentó sobrepasarse contigo en mitad de la pista de baile, realmente estabas angustiada y a punto de llorar cuando Freddie lo vió todo. Y con su aire de meterse en los asuntos que no son suyos, empujó al chico y le dió un puñetazo en la mandíbula. En ese momento pensaste que estabas muerta. Un chico delgado, demasiado alto y a primera vista afeminado acababa de golpear a un borracho que era dos veces él. Pero te sorprendieron sus golpes.

Una hora después mientras te invitó a una cerveza, (la odias, pero estaba siendo amable y oh dios, hacía meses que un chico guapo no te invitaba a nada), te contó sobre las clases de boxeo que tomó de niño. En ese momento aprendiste a no prejuzgar nunca más. Además de agradecerle por siempre que decidiese ayudar. Había mucha gente en ese pub que vió tu angustia y nadie hizo nada. Solo él.

"Soy un hombre criado por mi madre y mi abuela. Y crecí con mi hermana. Supongo que mi padre me hubiese golpeado si no tuviese respeto por las mujeres."

En ese momento sonreiste y lo supiste. Querías a ese hombre con tu vida.

"Nada comparado con la paliza de mi abuela, ella sí que sabe boxear" bromeó.

"¿Qué dices Freddie?" Te detienes en mitad de la calle con las dos enormes bolsas descansando en el suelo.

"Vamos... No tienes donde ir, el piso es pequeño, tendré que hacerte algo de espacio, podemos compartir cama, no creo que el sofá sea muy cómodo. Y no te cobraré alquiler, quizá solo saques la basura y limpies la cocina."

"Freddie..."

"Tengo un compañero de piso, es ruidoso, no tiene filtro y dice lo que piensa en todo momento, a veces toca la batería y sabe cocinar huevos cocidos. Es bastante divertido, ya te dije que tenías que conocerlo." Habla emocionado mientras toma una de tus bolsas, a pesar de llevar algunas de tus pertenencias en las manos. "Será divertido"

"No sé Freddie..."

"No creo que tengas más opciones..." Te mira con esos ojos y esa sonrisa tan bonita que tiene. Y sabe que te tiene en el bote.

"Supongo que os podría cocinar como compensación" Freddie grita cuando aceptas su propuesta y rápidamente tomáis un autobús hasta su casa.

El piso de Freddie es realmente pequeño, en eso no mentía. Lo primero que ves cuando abre la puerta es un pequeño pasillo, no entran dos personas a la vez, y después de ese medio metro de pasillo dónde tienen un perchero con varios abrigos, llegáis a un pequeño salón con un mueble, una televisión, un tocadiscos y dos sillones viejos acompañando un sofá. Está lleno de ropa, revistas, libretas y una guitarra apoyada en el suelo contra el sofá. A la derecha hay una cocina pequeña, y siguiendo el pasillo hay dos habitaciones, una a cada lado del pasillo, y al final un baño.

"No es demasiado increible." Freddie admite. "Pero somos felices aquí"

"Es increible Freddie" A pesar de ser una caja de zapatos y demasiado desordenada grita hogar por todas las esquinas.

"Te llevaré a mi habitación. Te dejaré dos cajones de mi cómoda y dos de mi armario. Conseguiré de nuestro mercadillo un burro para tu ropa. No creo que a Roger le importe"

Justo en ese momento la puerta del piso se abre, y entra una cabellera rubia con un cigarro entre sus labios. Cuando te ve casi deja caer el cigarro al suelo.

"¡Rog! Estás en casa" Freddie grita acercándose a su amigo.

"¿Qué es todo esto?" Pregunta viendo las bolsas en el suelo

"¡Tengo una nueva compañera de habitación!" En ese momento Roger tiene una expresión de sorpresa que hace que sientas pánico. Estoy en la calle, piensas.

"Freddie... ¿Podemos hablar?... En privado" Coge a su amigo por la chaqueta y lo empuja a la cocina.

En un principio te sientes un poco ofendida, pero lo entiendes. Freddie es una persona muy impulsiva, y puedes entender que a una persona normal no le haga mucha gracia llegar a su casa, y que su compañero de piso haya invitado a alguien a quedarse.

"¿Quién es ella?" Te hace gracia que aún con la puerta cerrada, el departamento es tan pequeño y con las paredes tan finas que puedes escuchar la conversación

"Es mi amiga Mackenzie"

"Eso no explica que sea nuestra nueva compañera de piso"

"Es mi compañera de habitación" Puntúa Freddie el acento en 'mi'.

"Es una habitación dentro del piso"

"Vale" Freddie se rinde. "Sus padres la han echado. Su situación es muy precaria, solo mira sus bolsas. Son solo dos, y una mochila con sus pertenencias.

A Roger no le tomó mucho empatizar contigo. Él se fue de casa en las mismas condiciones salvo que él quería independencia, a él nunca lo echaron. Pero sabe lo que es no tener medios y sufrir para llegar a final de mes.

"Solo... La próxima vez avísame cuando una chica guapa vaya a ser nuestra compañera de piso"

Cuando los chicos salen de la cocina, ambos tienen una sonrisa en sus rostros, y en ese momento te das cuenta de que puede que no tengas mucho, pero eres afortunada de tener un techo compartido, con una cama a medias con Freddie, y un chico con una sonrisa preciosa.

"Será bueno tener ayuda femenina en casa" En ese momento reparas en el chico rubio, no parece mucho más mayor que tú. Tiene una sonrisa preciosa y unos ojos azules que desprenden felicidad. "Soy Roger"

Extiende su mano hacia ti para que la tomes en un saludo.

"Mackenzie"

"Bueno Mackenzie" Roger pasa su brazo por tus hombros, acercándote a él "Cómo podrás ver somos unos desastres y nos cuesta mucho ganar dinero para pagar este apartamento tan pequeño, pero nos las arreglaremos." Toma una de tus bolsas para ayudarte a instalarte. "Bienvenida a la vida adulta, no es la gran cosa, pero nos lo pasaremos bien" Y cuando miras su sonrisa, le crees. Vivir con ellos será toda una aventura.

[thelastdj]

Dinner With The Parents

Pairing: Brian May x reader

Genre: I have no clue. Just read.

Summary: (y/n) and Brian are having dinner with his parents, but they are badgering the couple with questions about the future. Specifically: children.

Warning: Smoking, maybe cursing. I didn't proofread. Also I wrote this in an hour so its not the best.

masterlist

“And look here,” the elderly woman shoved another picture in (y/n)’s face, “Brian’s cousin just had a little daughter.”

“Ah, congratulations.”

“Isn’t she sweet?”

“Very.” (y/n) shot him a desperate look.

“So, Dad,” Brian tried to change the topic, “How's work?”

“Work is good.” he replied curtly, “(y/n), do you know how great children are?”

“I- uh, I wouldn’t know” she said, and took a long drink of wine.

“Well, they are. You get to watch them grow up, growing to become such amazing people. And you have the satisfaction of knowing you helped shape them to be like that.”

(y/n) nodded and gave a polite smile. “The meal was delicious Mrs. May.”

“Thank you dear.” She smiled, “Oh, Brian, did you hear? Jeff Robinson had a son last week.”

“Who?”

“You remember Jeff. He was in your year in school.”

“Oh, Jeff. Right.”

“(y/n)?” His father asked.

“Yes?”

“You and Brian have been together for quite some time now.”

“Three years.” She replied, shooting him a quick smile.

“Have you two ever thought of starting a family? Or at least getting married?”

“Um, we're both too busy with work right now to think of children…” she trailed off.

“(y/n)? Are you alright dear? You look a little queasy.” his mother asked when her eyes fell on (y/n), who indeed looked like she was going to be sick.

“I- yeah, I’m fine.” she said absentmindedly. “Do you mind if I grab some fresh air?”

“Of course darling.”

“Thanks.”

(y/n) got up and quietly headed out the side door. A beat passed and Brian turned to look at his parents.

His expression must have been pretty sour, because his mother raised her eyebrows and asked, “What?”

“Why are you trying to pressure (y/n) and me into having children?”

“We’re not doing anything of that sort.”

“Yes you are. (y/n)’s been under a lot of pressure about having kids lately. Her family, the media and now you two. It’s clear that she doesn’t want children. And neither do I.”

His parents were quiet.

“I’m going to go and see if she’s alright. And when we come back, please refrain from all the family talk.”

•••

(y/n) stood in the shadows, leaning her back against the wall. The warm red glow of a cigarette was the only thing lighting her face. Smoke curled upwards into the air as she exhaled.

“Sorry,” she chuckled, catching him staring at the cigarette between her fingers, “Bad habit.”

“Are you alright darling?”

She gave a weak smile, “I’m fine. Just needed to calm down a bit.”

Brian walked over to her, leaning his back against the wall. A sigh escaped him.

(y/n) glances over to him, “You want a drag?”

Suddenly Brian felt tempted. Why? He didn’t know, but he accepted the offer, inhaling the smoke from the cigarette being held to his lips.

His throat burned as the smoke tried to fight its way out and Brian doubled over coughing. He must have looked pretty ridiculous because (y/n) started to giggle.

“You do this for fun?” he managed to gasp out.

That only made her laugh harder. It took a few moments before all the smoke had been expelled from his lungs.

“Are you okay?” (y/n) asked when his coughing had subsided.

Brian nodded, watching her take a final drag before throwing the cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it with the tip of her shoe.

“I’m sorry they were asking all those questions.” He said.

“It’s not your fault,” (y/n) sighed, “Besides, you’ll have to endure the same thing next week. My mom invited us to dinner on Sunday.”

“Lovely,” he deadpanned and (y/n) smiled sympathetically.

“Should we go back inside?” She suggested, “Your parents might get suspicious.”

Brian nodded and took (y/n)’s hand.

“After you,” he held open to the door and he followed (y/n) as she walked back inside.

“Ah, there you too are.” Brian’s mom exclaimed, “Are you feeling better, (y/n)?”

“Yeah, I think it was just a little vertigo. I’m fine.”

“How’s the album coming along, son?” His father asked after a short pause.

And for the rest of the evening, there were no more mentions of children.

•••

“You told them I didn’t want children, didn’t you?”

Brian glanced down at her, “Yes, I did. They were a bit disappointed, but they’ll accept it. I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think that they believe that  if there’s a chance we’ll get married then there’s a chance that they will get grandchildren”

(y/n) laughed, “Do you think there’s a chance that we’ll get married?”

“I’m hoping there is.” He looked at her, “Is there?”

(y/n) smiled, “Yes there is. A very good one in fact.”

[bitchysoulwasteland]

No one but you.

Bucky Barnes X Vamp!Reader

A/n: my Queen obsession once again reveals itself, but, hey, I’m happy, so who cares?

You and Bucky had known each other back in the 1970s when you had been the front woman of Queen. Back then, of course, he was the Winter Soldier and you were an unknown singer when you met in 1968 with a struggling band desperate to find a frontman and a bassist. It was just you, Roger Taylor and Brian May back then. You were all still college students in your final year in the band ‘Smile’, which was before Freddie’s flamboyant changing of the band’s name.

You had met the Winter Solder at a pub in London. You had brought him a drink after you saw him outside, looking physically beaten up. From then, he hung out with you and the band. He had been there when Freddie and Deacy joined. When you had recorded your first song. When you had left Trident Studios and joined EMI.

But, he then disappeared. He was gone without a trace which left a gaping hole of longing within your soul itself.

This was when your songs started to be discarded from albums. They began to not even be recorded. You had lost your muse, seemingly your reason for life itself. The lads in the band noticed this before anyone else did.

It was a few years of heartbreak before everyone lost you. More than metaphorically, of course.

It was 1975 when you disappeared. You wrote a note to the band, apologising for your absence, resigned from the contract with EMI and moved to America.

You had given up with your life, so you were pray to those who would try to harm you. You were vulnerable and loved a good alcoholic drink, so it was easy for the sod that turned you into a vampire to do so. You didn’t really remember it, but you did know that you had been fending for yourself since then.

The only good thing to come of it, was that you no longer had to worry about how your soldier left you. You didn’t have to. You pushed it to the back of your mind and tried to forget about it.

You had your mansion, your alcohol and your memories of Queen to get you through. You had also befriended a vampire called Damon Salvatore and another called Stefan Salvatore who lived a few roads away from you.

It got to the point where you were basically living in their place more than your own. You and Damon often got blackout drunk and would go around Mystic Falls just for the hell of it, which would then result in Stefan having to clear up your mess.

Present day: Mystic Falls

The Quinjet landed in a field beside a mansion. There had been a system failure, so Steve had to land it. The Avengers walked out of the jet, Bucky at the back. They walked to the door and Steve knocked on the oak.

Inside, you got up from the sofa and answered the door, somewhat shocked the Captain America was there.

“Win?” You said, seeing the soldier behind Steve.

“Y/n? You’re alive?”

“Un-bloody-fortunately, yeah. Come in, all of you.” You said, letting them in.

“I thought you’d died, doll.”

“I couldn’t do it after you left.”

“Do what?”

“Queen, life, any of it. I gave up. I wrote the lads a note before I left…. It hurt Win. It hurt so fucking much.” You said as Bucky wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry, doll.” Bucky said, slightly tightening his embrace.

“It wasn’t your fault. With the whole Hydra and mind wipe thing I knew it would come eventually. Just maybe not so soon.”

A knock came from the door. “Y/n, I brought Jack Daniels.” It was Damon, there for the monthly drown your sorrows meeting you two would have.

“I guess you found someone else, huh doll?” Bucky said before letting go of you and walking into the living room as you answered the door, letting Damon in. You left the door open and vamp speeded to Bucky.

“It’s not like that, Win. It has never been like that. Not with him and not with anyone else, alright? And if you don’t believe me, you can ask him.”

Bucky looked you in your eyes. “You sure, doll?”

“There’s no one, Win. No one but you.”

Bucky smiled, embracing you once again. Damon stood in the doorway, happy that you had found Bucky again.

[somethinginrocknroll]

12, Queen

Hi Anon! Thank you for requesting lovie!

Save Me -Queen

Prompt: "If you hate me so much, kill me already. It's not like I have anything to live for."

Pairing: female Y/N & Queen members

TW: Depression

Word count: 1,236

Your the best friend of Brian May, you two were inseparable all through the 50s and 60s, but when Uni hit, you two barely saw each other. When his band Queen got big, Brian had asked you if you could be the bands official roadie. You have a degree in engineering, you're always fiddling with something, and Brian had assumed that this would be a great job for you since they always needed something to be fixed or tweaked. At first it was the best, you got to tour with your best mate, but as time went on the more your depression took upon you. You barely saw your family, and your friends drifted away from you, not to mention everyone around you started families. On top of everything, your the only girl on the road, so your surrounded by men and their fragile masculinity. You pretended everything was fine in front of Brian, but he knew and tried to make it easy for you. The other members, not so much, they didn't know you like Brian did, they never really knew who the real Y/N were. The most pain for you was Roger. He was constantly creating a drum beat on everything. The constant noise irritates you. You told him to stop, but he never did. This time you were fixing an amp with Deaky, he likes helping you. Roger was beating his drum sticks on your tool box, which was loud and echoing.

"Can you please stop!" You glared at him as Roger smirked and pretended he didn't hear you.

"What's wrong Y/N, don't like music?" Roger teased as you huffed. You finally finished the amp, harshly cleaned your things, and went to your room as you threw yourself on your bed, tired.

"Knock, Knock," You heard a familiar voice as you chuckled.

"Come in Brimi," You laughed as Brian walked in with two mugs of hot chocolate, with whip cream like you always loved, and envelopes.

"You have mail," Brian sat next to you and gave you the mug first, "Plus it looks like Rog pissed you off, so I got you your comfort drink."

"Thanks," You chuckled, "How did I get mail?"

"It came with our fanmail," Brain shrugged. You had all sorts of stuff like letters from your mom, dad, and siblings, but the one that stood out was this thick envelope. Curiosity took the best out of you, and you opened it first. It was the invitation to a wedding. You read the names as your heart sank, its from your now ex-boyfriend, who broke up with you because he didn’t like you traveling with a boy band and your, or who you thought she was, your best friend. You only have been touring for a year and they are already getting married. You didn’t even know they were together. You felt a blade stab you in the back and went right to the heart.

“That- those- assholes!” Your frustration made you speechless.

“What, Y/N?” Brian asked as you showed him the invitation and Brian softly looked at you, “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled. You forced a smile to make it seem like you were alright to Brian as you felt yourself sinking into this dark hole.

Days later…

New city, same shit, you thought as you were now fixing Roger’s drum kit since he broke it last concert.

“Don’t break it!” Roger looked over your shoulder as you glared.

“Fuck off,” you scoffed.

“Someone’s feisty today,” Roger smirked as you rolled your eyes. Roger grabbed his drum sticks and started to hit them onto any surface.

“Y/N darling,” Freddie walked in with tea, “I haven’t seen you drink anything all day, you must stay hydrated.”

“Thanks Fred,” you smiled, taking the tea, then taking a soft sip.

“It’s her fault, she sleeps until we need her,” Roger shrugged as you bit your tongue. That is true, since the news of your ex and your best friend, all you want to do is sleep endlessly.

“We work her like a dog, excuse her for resting,” Freddie quickly stood up for you as you smiled.

“The tea is lovely, thanks Fred,” you softly smiled.

“Anytime darling,” Freddie quietly said, then walked off. He was always gentle with you. You went back to trying to fix Roger’s drum kit, but you were one cocky mark away from duck-taping the thing together and telling him to have fun. Roger started to bang his drumsticks everywhere again, and at this point you very much had it with Roger.

“Will you please go away or stay quiet!” You snapped.

“Time of the month?” Roger frowned as you stood up.

“You have fun putting this piece of shit back together, your the one that broke it!” You scoffed.

“Why am I killing you?” Roger sarcastically asked, “I mean your grumpiness is practically killing the fun of touring, if your that grumpy go back to London. If not I might wanna kill you.”

“Listen, If you hate me so much, kill me already. It's not like I have anything to live for!” You snapped, without thinking, it blurted out, and very loudly to the point everyone in the other room heard you. Roger’s face twisted soon as you said you had nothing to live for. His face then softened once he realized how you were really feeling. You felt the emotions you had buried come up.

“Y/N?” You heard Brian, you turned around to see him with the other two band members. You coughed to excuse yourself and went back to your room and locked the door. You slip down the door, balling your eyes out.

You fell asleep on the floor. The boys had to do their concert and Roger fixed his kit. When they were about to go on Freddie asked what had happened and Brian had told them what he knew. He knew you'd been upset and the news hurt you, but he didn’t know you were that low. After the concert, their manager suggested this high class fancy restaurant, but the boys passed by [insert ur fav takeout], Brian knew it was your favorite type of food. He demanded for them to go there, then they went back to the hotel. Brian knocked, but you didn’t answer. He tried to go in, but you locked your door.

“Y/N?” Brian asked as John, Freddie and Roger were behind him. Your a deep sleeper so Brian’s knocking and calling for you, didn’t wake you up.

“Y/N?” Brian said louder, as you were still soundly sleeping. The boys started to pound on your door. They had your food. The smell blew under the door and filled your nostrils. Your love of food woke you up, but then you heard the boys banging on your door.

“Jesus Christ, shut up can a girl sleep!” You yelled.

“Y/n?” The boys called out as you sheepishly stood up, unlocked the door, and opened it.

“This better be good, I was having a good dream,” you rubbed the tiredness out of your eyes. .

“We got you [insert ur fav dish],” Brian lifted the bag. As you smirked, you appreciated the small gesture. You invited the boys in, even Roger, and all watched some cheesy hotel tv as you ate your favorite food.