#john deacon x y/n

[venus-haze]

You're My Best Friend (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: Homelander was a test tube baby, raised in isolation in a cold, clinical lab. But that doesn’t inspire America, does it? Vought tasks you with creating the idyllic backstory for its hero, and what starts as a limited comic run spirals out of control when Homelander himself demands your help in making the story a reality.

Note: Gender neutral reader, but no other descriptors are used. Based on a request by @crash-and-cure as well as a bastardization of one of the sweetest love songs ever written (sorry, John Deacon!) This got kinda meta? Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, I guess some gaslighting on Homelander’s part? Do not interact if you’re under 18.

When Vought hired you to create their long-awaited Homelander origin comic series, you were thrilled—until they gave you so little information about his childhood to work with, you weren’t even sure you could come up with one comic, let alone the ten they requested. The details about his childhood were minimal, not even a full printed page—a loving mom and dad, played baseball, did well in school, strong sense of justice from a young age, his friends called him “Johnny.” Your requests to meet with Homelander so you could get some stories from the man himself were constantly denied.

You almost considered dropping the project, until you decided to throw caution to the wind and pull from your own childhood and set it in good ol’ generic suburbia. Some of the storylines were based on your own experiences or things that had happened to people you’d grown up with, though you changed enough names and details to not link it to anyone in particular. Except yourself, of course. Using a pseudonym professionally meant you felt no need to change your own name in the comics. Sure, making your cooler fictionalized self Homelander’s childhood best friend was a bit self-indulgent, but no one would know, really.

To your relief, the editors at Vought loved your ideas, making minor changes before bringing the storylines to their comic artists to bring it to life. The result was Finding Homelander: A Boy’s Journey To Be a Hero. The issues flew off shelves when they were first released, ironically praised for their relatability and authenticity. Vought extended your contract, asking you to produce the cartoon adaptation and another ten issues.

Still, in all of that, you’d never met Homelander. A representative from Vought emailed you to let you know to tune in to his interview on a talk show one day, saying that he’d be talking more about the cartoon project on it. You recognized the host, Tracey, always chipper and having some extravagant giveaway for her audience members. Daytime TV was never your thing, though.

“I think what resonates with so many people is how relatable your childhood is,” Tracey said, holding up a copy of Finding Homelander issue #3, where he saved ‘you’ from getting hit in the face with a baseball at one of his games, catching it with ease. It’d been the happy ending to a short storyline of him struggling to find his place on the team and you encouraging him to not give up. “You and Y/N were pretty close, do you still keep in touch?”

“You know, Tracey, not as much as I’d like, unfortunately. Adulthood can be so busy, you need to cherish those childhood memories,” Homelander said. “I did give them a call when the comics first came out, and wow, the laughs we had over those old antics of ours. Talk about a walk down memory lane!”

You guessed the bullshitting was all part of the promotional circuit for Homelander. Knowing this childhood of his was your own fabrication, you couldn’t help but wonder what else about him was fake. Maybe he wanted to maintain his privacy, you could certainly understand that. You couldn’t shake the voice in the back of your mind that said it wasn’t so simple, that the narrative Vought pushed was a cover to hide something in Homelander’s past.

“Now, I’ve heard rumors of a cartoon show based on the comics in the making, is this true?”

“It is! I’m excited for this project, getting back to my ‘roots’ so to speak. I’ll be voicing myself, of course, but it’s funny you’d bring up Y/N, because they’ve agreed to voice themself, too.”

“How fun!” Tracey exclaimed over the roar of the talk show crowd’s applause and cheers. “I guess this is the hopeless romantic in me, but I hope this reconnection leads to something a little more. I’m just a sucker for childhood sweethearts!” 

Homelander laughed along with the host’s giggles, “Well, you never know.”

You balked at the television, mouth agape. Surely he couldn’t be talking about you. ‘Y/N’ could be anyone with your same features. Vought had probably hired a professional voice actor for the role and were pushing the authenticity angle. The whole situation felt odd. 

When you checked your work email again on your phone, you nearly dropped it on the floor. 

SUBJECT: Meeting with Homelander This Week

The email contained a list of days and times throughout the week wherein Homelander would be free, apparently wanting to meet you to thank you for the success of the comic series and discuss upcoming work. Yeah. That last part you sure as hell wanted to discuss too. You responded with the soonest time available, in a meeting room in Vought Tower the following evening. As soon as you hit ‘send’, you wondered what exactly you were getting yourself into.

Anticipation filled your gut as you went about your day leading up to meeting the supe himself. What would he be like, really be like? Was there even a version of Homelander that wasn’t hopelessly manufactured for the masses? You knew then that his upbringing was a lie, and thus stood the probability that so much else was, too. 

When you stepped into that meeting room, you hadn’t been expecting his face to light up at the sight of you. 

“Homelander, hi, it’s great to—“

“No need to be so formal, Y/N! You can call me Johnny, just like old times,” he said cheerfully, in on a joke you clearly hadn’t been aware of.

“Sorry, Johnny,” you said, playing along. “It’s great to see you again.”

He pulled you in for an unexpected hug that you returned. “Figured we should catch up before things really start getting crazy, don’t you think?”

You nodded, your nose brushing against him as you did so. Just as your lips parted to offer an apology, he smiled, shooing away the assistant who’d accompanied him out of the room. 

He sat down, motioning for you to do the same.

“Gotta say, I’m a fan of your work,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said. “I’m not sure I understand exactly what’s going on, though.”

“What’s there to understand? I’m not allowed to know more about my best friend, our lives together growing up?”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Wasn’t hard for me to put two and two together, but considering everyone else around here has their head up their asses, they have no idea,” he said, before lowering his voice conspiratorially and giving you a charming smile. “I haven’t told anyone. What’s a secret between friends?”

You nodded, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention on you. “What do you want to know?”

He sighed, resting his head on his hand. “Everything.”

So you told him. Not quite everything, of course, but enough to abate his curiosity. At least for the time being. His interviews were sharper, more specific with details rather than rattling off whatever had been in the comics. You watched in shock as convincing photos of his Little League days were posted to his social media accounts, anecdotes provided by his increasingly frequent conversations–or more like interrogation sessions–with you, but in his style, of course. It was almost scary what the graphic design team at Vought could accomplish, not that you’d ever know how, exactly, as they were all under the same strict NDA that you were.

He started spending more time with you, too, and after a while, it did seem like you were old friends. Part of you flinched whenever you called him Johnny, because Johnny wasn’t even real, but with your complacency, this fabrication was slowly morphing into a strikingly tangible memory. With each conversation, he drew you deeper into the world you’d been paid to create for him until you found yourself slipping up.

You’d been showing him a goofy stuffed monkey on your desk, a cute little thing with big sparkling eyes. A prize for getting two out of three at the ring toss. Probably spent more money winning it than it was actually worth, but it was about the effort, the memories made.

“You remember, don’t you? You won it for me at the county fair,” you said without thinking.

He laughed in agreement, as if he actually had. Except he hadn’t. Your high school boyfriend won it for you a week before graduation. Sensing the mood shift, he set down your prize and looked at you with the same intensity he had when you first met.

“It’s been a while since we were there, huh?” he said. “Why don’t we go back?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Go where?”

“Home.”

With a strong arm around your waist, he took off for your hometown. You could hardly tell which way was up or down, he was flying so high, but he didn’t seem to mind the way you clung to him at all. When he finally landed, you recognized the community baseball field where all of his fictional games were set. 

“Geez, it’s like nothing’s changed,” he said cheerfully.

You looked at him in disbelief. How long was he going to expect you to go along with it? Or maybe the question you should have been asking was, how long were you going to enable him? The end wasn’t anywhere in sight as he took your hand, and you walked him through your childhood, further enmeshing him in it until you arrived at the house you grew up in. 

The middle of the day, no one was home, and so you let yourselves in like you owned the place. Suddenly, the house seemed too small for a man like Homelander to occupy, but he was engrossed in the details of it. He scanned the kitchen, no doubt inspecting the contents of the fridge and cabinets with his x-ray vision. Moving onto the living room, he stared at photos on the wall, the magazines and DVDs that were strewn on the coffee table, giving away your parents’ taste in entertainment.

“Which one was your room again?” he asked.

You swore you could feel his breath on the back of your neck as you wordlessly led him to your room. Each step down the hall felt dangerous, as if you were about to walk into a trap. Face-to-face with the closed door, you opened it, standing aside while Homelander looked around, from what you had hanging on the walls to the knick-knacks you’d left behind.

An uncomfortable tension settled over the room when Homelander closed the door of your childhood bedroom. An odd blend of hurt and amusement spread across his face as he observed the way you were eyeing him, body ready to fruitlessly run from him the way a rabbit would a hawk.

“C’mon, after how long we’ve been friends, I would never hurt you,” he said, as if reading your mind. “We’ve been through so much together. I mean, we were each other’s first kiss.”

You froze. Issue #9. That was something Vought’s editors had added, claiming a romance angle would make the series appeal to the younger female demographic. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

He slyly backed you into the wall, leaning over you as you slinked down the slightest bit.

“Show me how we did it,” he whispered, his hand caressing your cheek. “So clumsy and nervous, I can even feel you…quivering.”

“Homelander, I don’t know what you’re—“

He tsked. “Y/N.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Johnny—“

He hummed in satisfaction. “It’s alright. I know it’s been a while.”

You let him kiss you, sweetly in a way that put your actual first kiss to shame. His lips were soft against yours, his tender movements intentional as he cradled your face, pulling you the slightest bit closer to him when you kissed him back. 

A sense of familiarity settled over you, warm and comforting like pulling a blanket out of the dryer on a chilly evening. Every time it seemed like you were beginning to overthink the situation with Homelander, he drew you back in with the kiss, a more than effective distraction until you pulled away with a dazed smile on your face.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Folsom Prison Blues | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, sexual harassment, crude sexual comments directed at reader, mentions of rape, panic attacks, sexual coercion, blackmail, recovery from an assault (PLEASE PLEASE EXERCISE CAUTION WHEN READING THIS CHAPTER IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANYTHING PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED! Please take care of yourselves, lovebugs.)

Word Count: 5303

A/N: This is definitely one of the darker chapters I’ve written. I just wanna reiterate that if you are at all triggered by mentions of rape or sexual harrassment happening toward the reader, please skip this chapter. However, there are no explicit scenes of assault. I always feel like that crosses a line when writers add those really descriptive scenes.

Remember, if you are a victim of anything like this, you are loved and you are not defined by what happens to you. As a victim myself, I completely understand if you make the decision to skip this week's chapter.

Again, please, please, please take care of yourself while you read this chapter. I love you all! And minors, definitely do not read. doooo notttt readddd.

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“Have I mentioned that I hate this idea?” you said to Dean harshly, standing outside of the Impala.

Dean chuckled. “I think a few times.” He kissed your forehead. “Look, Deacon’s a friend of ours. He’s got you covered. See you in a few days, okay?”

“I fucking hate this idea,” you groaned.

Dean leaned down to kiss you, effectively cutting off your sentence. “Just trust me, okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. See you, Dee.”

And with that, you set off to meet a friend of John Winchester’s, Deacon, at Green River County Detention Center. Several men had been brutally murdered in the B-block of their men’s prison, and Deacon, the warden at the prison, had come to the Winchester brothers for help. Reluctantly, you agreed to pose as a guard in-training to be right there with the boys the whole time and to assist with their escape. 

Your plan was only able to be accomplished due to the fact that the FBI hadn’t gotten a clear photo of you; not from the bank and not from your previous arrest. Your mugshot from Baltimore had “mysteriously disappeared.” However, Sam’s and Dean’s photos were all over the place; Dean’s from St. Louis and a sketch of Sam from a witness in Milwaukee. The two boys were going to purposefully get arrested to be able to get into the B-block of the prison. That was why you hated the idea so much. 

Deacon was tough, you wouldn’t lie, but no tougher than your father. His whole “ex-military” thing didn’t intimidate you at all, and perhaps that was what kept the other officers from messing with you. You’d proved in your “training” how capable you were, and Deacon claimed that was part of the reason they accelerated the hiring process for you. 

However, your tough, impenetrable attitude didn’t deter the inmates from making jabs at you. Your first day on the job, a scrawny inmate with rotting teeth smacked your ass harshly in the cafeteria. You promptly had him on his stomach with his arm twisted behind his back. Deacon called you into his office afterward to fill out an incident report.

“Guessing you guys don’t have that many female hires, huh?” you asked Deacon upon entering his office.

He chuckled. “That’s a nice way of saying it. Most girls wouldn’t be caught dead in here, and we pretty much don’t hire ‘em. Just for their own safety.”

“Don’t you think that’ll raise some red flags, then? Especially given the fact that I appeared out of nowhere and ‘accelerated through training’?” you questioned.

“(Y/N), we don’t exactly hire the best and the brightest. Besides, that sort of thing happens with the guys all the time. Some get transferred from other prison, for others, this is their jumping-off point before they start workin’ for the police force. Actually, I think a lot of ‘em are too excited to see a girl to even think about where you came from. Trust me, nobody’s paying enough mind to your circumstance to notice any of the cracks,” he assured you. 

You let out a breath. “Okay. The boys get arrested yet?”

He nodded. “Should be on their way over now. Just finished questioning them a few counties over.”

“Wait, questioning them? How serious of a questioning are we talkin’ here?” you asked.

“Uh, I don’t know. That’s above my paygrade, kid,” he replied. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you. This isn’t gonna be a cakewalk for you. I run a tight ship, but you’re fresh meat. Some of these guys haven’t seen a girl in fifteen, twenty, thirty years. When they see you, be prepared for some wild animals. What happened earlier isn’t gonna be an isolated incident. 

“But one of ‘em even looks at you funny, you tell me. Don’t go lookin’ for trouble, though. Keep your head down and only jump in when you absolutely have to. I have you on patrol of the cell blocks so there’ll at least be a barrier between you and them. At meal and rec time, though, I can’t protect you from what’ll happen.”

You nodded, bile rising in your throat. 

“Why don’t you get outta here? I’ll see you around, okay?”

You nodded again and smiled a little before turning around and heading out of the door. Some of the male guards snickered as you walked past them through the hallways of the prison, but you paid no mind to them. You were focused on seeing your boys again. 

“You don’t belong here,” one of the guards called after you.

You turned on your heel sharply. “What’d you say to me?” 

“You heard me, toots. Go back where you came from,” the guard replied, a foul smile across his face as his buddies snickered.

You gave him a challenging glare. “I’m gonna say this as politely as I can: get fucked.” 

You turned back around and walked away, only to feel a harsh yank on your arm to turn you to face the man. “What’d you say?”

“You heard me, toots,” you said, mocking him. “How small is your dick that a third-grade insult from me got you all fired up? And holy shit, do you need some listerine. You got halitosis? What’s going on there?”

The guard’s friends began to laugh, too, much to the chagrin of the man still holding your arm. He released you roughly, and you knew it’d bruise tomorrow. “I oughta teach you some respect,” he said.

“Oh yeah? And risk losing your job?” you questioned. “You make one wrong move, and I start screaming.”

He scoffed. “Whatever. Just fuck off.”

“That’s what I was doin’,” you replied, turning away again. This time, he let you leave, and you were grateful. You were trying to remain as unnoticed as possible during your time here; despite the fact that being the only female guard put an immediate spotlight on you. 

You continued down the corridor to your assigned patrol; right outside the doors of one of the cell blocks. You tried to seem as unfazed as possible in your nerve-wracking situation and walked with authority; as much as you could muster given most of these men towered over you. You mentally cursed your father for stunting your growth by starving you to make sure you stayed small for hunting purposes. Your baton in hand, you walked up and down the cells. 

“Hey, they got us a hooker,” one of the men from the cell laughed. “How much for the hour, sweetness?”

As that man’s cell erupted into laughter, you walked past another where a man was pleasuring himself in plain view of the hallway. You knew he was doing so to get a rise out of you, and you swallowed your nausea and continued walking. 

“I’m gonna fuck you real good, sweetheart,” a man growled from behind his bars. “At rec time, your ass is mine.”

Again, you just kept walking, ignoring their lewd and offensive comments. You prayed to see Sam, Dean, or Deacon sooner rather than later to continue going through with this. And for a moment, you wondered if this case was even worth it. ‘If these fucking scumbags are the ones dyin’, I’d be okay with that,’ you considered. 

***

At the prisoner’s scheduled lunch time, you held up the end of the line of prisoners heading to the cafeteria. Every time the men at the back of the line tried to turn their heads to sneak a glimpse at you, you used the butt of your baton to hit them on the back of the head and turn their gazes forward. You weren’t completely comfortable doing that, but you were doing your best to prove that you weren’t someone to be messed with.

When you arrived with your group of inmates in the cafeteria, you saw Sam and Dean sitting alone at a small table and talking in hushed voices. You hoped your face didn’t convey your relief to see them. Even though they were in orange jumpsuits, just the sight of the Winchesters made you feel safer. Dean caught you staring at him and smirked a little before turning back to his plate. You forced yourself to remain stoic and keep your hardened expression on your face. Dean got up from the table with his tray to go throw his food away, and Sam followed. Sam somehow didn’t notice a heavily tattooed prisoner with a thick goatee heading straight for him, and he crashed right into him.

“Sorry. I—” Sam tried.

“Watch where you're going,” the man said.

The brunet stumbled over his words. “Yeah. Sure. I just—”

Dean walked up in front of Sam, voice darkening. “He said he was sorry.”

“You talking to me?” the man scoffed. “Are you talking to me?” 

“Great, another guy who's seen Taxi Driver too many times,” Dean quipped. “Yeah, I'm talking to you. Trust me. Let it go.”

The tattooed man walked away, and Dean turned around to Sam. He said something quietly and winked at his brother, making Sam roll his eyes before catching sight of the much larger man the tattooed prisoner was walking back over to them with.

You tried to keep your composure when the man swung a punch at Dean. Dean, however, caught him and held him in place from behind. “We can end this right now. No harm, no foul,” the Older Winchester asserted.

The prisoner soon broke from Dean’s hold. He grabbed him again and slammed him against a wall. The man stepped back on Dean’s foot, and Deacon subtly jerked his head at you for you to step forward to help break up the situation.

“That’s enough!” Deacon commanded, walking over to the man Dean had brought to the floor. “On your feet, Lucas.”

The tattooed man, whose name you just found out, stood. “Yes, sir, boss.”

Deacon held out his baton and pushed Dean’s chin up with it. “What's your name?” he asked him.

“Winchester.”

“Well, Winchester, not a good start.” Deacon stared him down angrily. “Solitary. You too, Lucas.”

You immediately grabbed Dean’s wrists and began pushing him in the direction of solitary confinement while another guard grabbed Lucas. 

“Are we having fun yet, huh?” Dean called over your shoulder to Sam.

You roughly shoved him forward, making him face ahead again. 

“Y’know, I usually don’t let girls tie me up without a first date,” Dean quipped. You knew he was trying to rile you up and get you to break character for his own fun.

“If you wanna keep your tongue, I suggest you keep your mouth shut,” you replied forcefully.

For some reason, that comment seemed to excite Dean. You fought back an eye roll at his amused expression. You roughly shoved him— not too hard, just hard enough to sell it— into the solitary confinement cell and slammed the door shut. 

Dean smirked at you. “See you around, sweetheart.”

You tried to fight the heat rising to your cheeks, upset by how easily he could get a rise out of you. You left him in solitary confinement and followed the guard who’d brought Lucas to solitary back to the cafeteria. 

“The boys seem to like you a lot,” he sneered. “Havin’ fun yet?”

You recognized him as one of the men who’d taunted you after you left Deacon’s office earlier that morning.

“Buckets,” you responded dryly. 

“I can think of a few ways we could have some more fun,” he said to you, backing you into a wall. 

“Get off me!” Your breath quickened, and without even thinking about it, you used the flat part of your forearm to push his chest away and kneed him in the groin.  

“You bitch!” he yelped. You took off running back to the direction you thought the cafeteria was in, taking a moment to steady yourself against a wall. You couldn’t seem to catch your breath, and you slumped down against the wall, clutching at your chest. You closed your eyes and did your best to steady your breathing and thankfully succeeded. You wiped the few tears that had fallen from your eyes, and steeled yourself to go back out there.��

You rejoined your group of guards, including Deacon, and the other prisoners. Deacon seemed to notice you were upset but said nothing about it. All he said was, “You’re watching the bathrooms with Jones,” referring to your next assignment during the prisoners’ working hours and your partner for the time being. 

You were relieved to see Sam when you made it to your destination. He was having to scrub the floors with a mop that seemed to be more like ragged threads now than a cleaning tool. 

“How you doing?” Sam asked the older prisoner he was with.

“I’m fifty-four years old, mopping the floor of a crapper with bars on the windows. How you think I'm doing?” the man’s scratchy voice replied.

“Alright. Bad icebreaker. I'm Sam.”

“Randall.”

“Nice to meet y—” Sam cut himself off, seeming to have realized something. “Randall. Hey, weren't you there the night that guard died?” 

That caught your attention. You threw a look to the guard in the other part of the bathroom ensuring he was focused on other prisoners and not Sam and Randall’s conversation.

“Yeah,” the man replied.

“Well, what happened?” Sam pressed.

“They say the stress of the job got him.”

Sam stopped mopping. “Yeah? What do you say?”

Randall didn’t answer. “Why are you inside, kid?”

“ 'Cause I got an idiot for a brother.”

“That'll do it,” Randall replied. “Well, this place ain't so bad. Compared to the old cellblock, this is the damn Hilton.”

“You spent time in the old block?” Sam questioned.

“Oh, yeah, I was a regular customer.”

“Didn't they have Mark Moody over there for a while?” Mark Moody was the man who Sam and Dean suspected of being your ghost killer.

“He was there. Yeah I was there, too, the night that lunatic bought it,” Randall explained.

“Yeah? It was a heart attack, right?”

The older man chuckled. “Sure, his heart stopped right after the guard stopped using his head for batting practice. The next morning, I was in his cell, mopping up the blood. What a mess.” He shook his head.

“Wait. So he– he was beaten and– and nobody reported it?” Sam asked in confusion.

“You kept your mouth shut, unless you wanted to die from the same heart attack, y’know?” Randall chuckled; the gravelly sound almost sending a chill down your spine. 

‘This guy could easily play Hannibal Lector,’ you thought.

“Randall, exactly how much blood was there?”

*** When working time was over, the prisoners had an hour in the yard before dinner and returning to their cells. You watched from the far corner of the fence while he played poker with every man who was dumb enough to try him for cigarettes. You folded your arms across your chest and watched with amusement when Sam came up to him and began bickering with him about something.

Dean then stood and yelled, “Hey, fellas! Who's ready to deal?”

He played several more rounds of poker, and you did your best to pry your eyes away from him so as to not arouse suspicions of any kind. However, that proved to be the least of your worries.

The guard from earlier whose balls you’d kicked in came up beside you and nonchalantly leaned against the gate. “You’re playing hard to get. It’s cute. I like it,” he said.

“Leave me alone, please,” you replied coolly. You were ready to bash his head in.

“Or what?” he challenged, still facing forward. “I think you owe me an apology for earlier. I’ll have a real treat for you tonight when we get off work.”

You jerked your head toward him. “You try anything, and I swear to god I will gut you.”

“Easy there, princess. It’d do you well to get in good with me. I’ll be able to protect you from them.” The guard nodded out to the inmates who would turn their heads every once in a while in your direction.

“Not interested,” you said simply. “Besides, I think I need more protection from you than from them.”

You could feel his gaze burning into the side of your head. “Maybe so. Maybe if you don’t give me what I want, I’ll take it out on your little inmate friend over there.” He nodded toward Dean who was triumphantly fistpumping after winning another hand of poker. 

You looked back at him, worry swimming in your eyes.

“That’s right, I noticed how you keep looking at him. You’re not very subtle, I hope you know. And he’s definitely not,” the guard said. “So, if you wanna keep him alive, you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. I’ll see you tonight.”

You stared at the ground ahead of you in fear and tried to think your way out of your situation. All that played over in your mind was the sickening feeling of his body against yours in that cinderblock corridor outside of solitary confinement. Bile rose in your throat, and the only thing snapping you out of your trance was the whistle indicating the end of rec time.

You went through the motions of your “job” by escorting the prisoners from the yard into the cafeteria for dinner. Your head was not at all in the moment or in the case, and fear kept your adrenaline moving for the next several minutes. It wasn’t until Dean got in another fight and nearly got himself killed that your adrenaline surged for a different reason.

“If we'd waited any longer, you'd be dead,” Deacon told Dean.

“You waited long enough,” Dean huffed, trying to catch his breath.

Deacon shoved his baton into Dean’s stomach, and you nearly lunged at him for doing so. He grabbed the back of Dean’s head and told him, “Do yourself a favor. Don't. Talk.” The warden looked up at you. “Take them both up to the infirmary.”

You and the guard who’d been harassing you did so. Dean noticed how off you were, but did his best not to convey what he knew. When you got both Tiny and Dean into cells, you had no desire to leave with the guard; afraid of what would happen to you.

You were almost angry at yourself. You were (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You’d fought monsters, ghosts, and demons, and you were losing your mind over a guy that would shit his pants if he knew what you’d seen. However, the fact that he was still a very real threat drowned out those thoughts.

***

The man Dean had fought had apparently died in the infirmary; no doubt by the hands of the thing you were hunting. While Dean was fighting said man, Sam snuck to the room Moody had been murdered in and burnt the rest of the blood away, so you knew it couldn’t be him. All you could do was wait for the boys to talk to the other prisoners to get the name of your true target.

Later that night, you just wanted to make it back to the Impala when you got off your shift. You even waited a while after everyone else on your shift had left to make your way out of the prison. You hoped the guard whose name you didn’t even know wouldn’t make good on his threats. However, your stomach dropped when you saw him leaning against Dean’s car.

You stopped several feet from him.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he told you.

“How the fuck do you know what car I drive?” you questioned.

“It’s not hard. I mean, you’re the only ‘67 Chevy in the parking lot. Nice ride, by the way,” he said.

“Fuck you.”

In an instant, he was running toward you. You turned and sprinted away, only to be knocked to the ground by the man. He roughly pulled your hair back, yanking your head back against him. “Remember what I fucking told you,” he growled against your ear. “Are you gonna start playing nice?”

***

Everything felt wrong. No matter how many showers you took, you couldn’t scrub the feeling off your skin. Back in your motel room, you laid on your side wrapped in an oversized shirt. You stared at the wall in the dark, completely numb. You hadn’t even been able to cry since it happened.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t move. For hours, you laid there. You wouldn’t allow sleep to hold you close enough to darken the world around you. 

One thing you kept thinking was ‘I’ll never be the same again.’ The words played on a loop over and over in your mind. They danced around in your head for hours, taunting you. 

You wanted to climb out of your skin. Start the day over. You wished you’d fought back. Wished someone had been sound to stop him. The scrapes on your left wrist and arm were undoubtedly going to bruise in the morning, and your uniform wouldn’t exactly hide them. You knew Dean and Sam would ask questions, and the former would rip the guy’s head off. You didn’t even know that guard’s name. Everything just felt so wrong. 

But you wouldn’t let this stop you from doing your job. You wouldn’t let those boys brave that place alone with no word from you. And so, despite everything in your body telling you not to, you went back to the prison the next day.

***

You could tell Deacon knew something was wrong, but he didn’t press you further. The other prison guards didn’t seem to notice a difference in you; except, of course, the guard’s posse. They would snicker at you every time you walked past, and you could only imagine what your abuser had said about you. 

Thankfully, you only had to endure this last day of awfulness. Deacon was going to “fire” you right after rec time was over to give you enough time to get the Impala pulled around the back of the jail for the brothers to escape through. Your job was to wait for Sam to come over to you and give you the name of the person you were after and find what cemetery they were at. Then, you were going to get the boys the hell out of dodge. 

You watched the boys in the rec yard talking to Randall, the man Sam had gotten information from while they were cleaning the bathrooms. Then, the younger brother came over to you. 

“Hey,” he said, looking around to see if anyone was paying much attention to him.

“Hi,” you replied.

“Whoa, what happened to your arm?” Sam asked in concern, noticing your very obvious scrapes. 

“Oh, it’s nothing, I—”

“This guy bothering you?” That awful, familiar voice said from behind you. 

Without turning around to face your abuser, you replied, “No. Please, go away.”

Sam glared at the man behind you when he noticed how upset the guard’s mere presence made you. You could tell he knew the guard had done something to you; he was a smart boy. 

“Glockner,” was all Sam said to you before turning away. 

“Surprised you’re able to still walk—”

You immediately turned around to him and punched him square across his jaw. 

“Bitch!” he yelled.

“Fuck you!” you yelled. 

‘Deacon’s firing me anyway,’ you thought. ‘Might as well give him a legitimate reason to.’

You got down on top of the guard and started punching hard. His face was bloodied and bruised, the man barely hanging on to consciousness before you were pulled away, kicking and screaming by two other guards. They dragged you over to Deacon, who promptly made a scene of firing you. He escorted you out to the parking lot where he said the cops would be waiting for you to bring you in for questioning. 

Once the two of you were far enough away, he roughly spun you around to face him. “What the hell was that?!” he questioned. “You know they’re gonna be out for blood now!”

“I know that, Deacon! Maybe if your guards weren’t fucking scumbags, though, I wouldn’t have had to do that!” you yelled back.

“What?” his voice quieted considerably. 

“Nothing,” you said. “Just tell my boys I’ll be back for ‘em tonight.” You turned on your heel and walked away. 

“Hey, kid,” Deacon called after you.

You turned around. 

“Thank you. And… I’m sorry. For whatever happened.”

You nodded and turned back around again.

*** You discovered that “Glockner” was the name of a nurse in the seventies who’d been caught in the crossfire of the inmate uprising that occurred following Moody’s death. She’d been buried at Green Valley Cemetery following the severe cerebral edema the inmates gave her. 

You returned to the detention center under the cover of night and pulled the car around the back of the prison away from the parking lot where the guards were beginning to change shifts. You waited anxiously dressed in civilian clothes again for the boys to come out of the HVAC unit Deacon told you would be attached to the room he would be bringing the boys into following their staged fight. 

“Oh, man, are you a sight for sore eyes,” a familiar voice rumbled. 

Dean and Sam leapt over the fence separating you from them, and you couldn’t help but collapse into Dean’s arms. “Whoa, sweetheart, what’s—”

“No time, guys,” Sam reminded you. “You can reunite later. We gotta go.”

As if on cue, an alarm began to sound through the prison. Immediately, you nodded and broke away from Dean. You headed to the driver’s seat so Sam and Dean could change while you drove. Quickly, you headed to the cemetery Nurse Glockner was buried in. 

***

The brothers caught you up on everything that had been happening to them since you hadn’t been able to talk much over the last week.

“What?!” you exclaimed, following them through the cemetery. “Henriksen’s here?!”

“Yeah, which is exactly why I wanted to get the hell out,” Sam told you. “They were gonna extradite us back to St. Louis or Baltimore or something. Whatever was gonna happen to us, it wasn’t gonna be pretty.

“Jesus,” you responded. “And no doubt, they’re gonna be looking for me soon, too. I beat the fuck out of a guy who knows I drive a ‘67 Impala.”

“What?!” both boys questioned upon reaching the grave of Nurse Glockner.

You nodded solemnly. “Yeah,” you said. 

“I’m gonna need a bit more of a response than ‘yeah,’ sweetheart,” Dean grunted as he began digging.

“Later. Let’s just get this over with, okay?” you said, helping the boys dig faster. 

You could feel both brothers staring at you in concern, but you couldn’t look up at them. 

***

When Glockner had finally been salted and burned, you and the Winchesters returned to the Impala and quickly drove away. 

“You know, I almost wish I could see Henriksen's face,” Dean joked as the Impala’s engine purred.

“Really? 'Cause I'd be happy if I never saw him again,” Sam replied tightly. “I mean, we're not really out of the woods yet, Dean, you know? You thought we were screwed before?”

“Yeah, I know. We got to go deep this time,” Dean responded.

“ ‘Deep,’ Dean? We should go to Yemen,” Sam quipped.

“Ooh, I'm— I'm not sure I'm ready to go that deep.”

You were silent the entirety of the drive over state lines and to a motel in the middle of wooded nowhere. You were silent through the check-in process, and silent when Dean crawled into your bed behind you later that night. He began to kiss down your neck, and you wanted to enjoy the feeling so badly.

“Dean.” Your voice broke as you whispered his name.

Immediately, Dean took his face away from your neck. “What?” he asked, hearing how upset you were. “What is it?” 

“I, um—” you started, unable to turn to face him. “I can’t.”

“Why?” he asked softly.

“The guard—” you said. “—from the rec yard. He, um.”

Dean lightly turned you to face him. “(Y/N), what’d he do?” His voice had darkened considerably at the thought of someone hurting you. 

“He, uh—” your breath shuddered, and you were unable to meet his gaze. “He raped me.”

You swear all of the oxygen looked like it’d been punched out of Dean, his face hardening in the darkness. “Oh, I’ll kill him—”

“Dean, don’t, okay? It’s not gonna—” you protested, reaching up to grab his face to make him look at you. “It’s not gonna change anything.”

“I know, but—”

“Dean, I thought beating him to a bloody pulp was gonna make me feel better. It didn’t. I just feel more disgusting. Like, why didn’t I do that when it was all happening?” You began to cry. “I just— I’m trying to forget it ever happened. And I know I won’t. And it’s awful. And I just— I need time,” you explained.

Silence settled over the two of you for a moment.

“Do you want me to leave?” Dean asked softly.

“I— I don’t know. I just—” You took a deep breath. “I don’t really know how I feel about touching right now. Can you just lay with me?”

He nodded and climbed into bed beside you, the two of you staring up at the ceiling. Wordlessly, you slipped your hand under the covers and reached for his hand, lacing his fingers with yours and squeezing tightly. 

Your world was turning completely upside down. Your mind wouldn’t slow down, and you didn’t sleep much at all that night. However, you knew that whatever happened to you, Dean was there to keep you grounded. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[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!!"

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

[magickcandie]

John Deacon x Fem!Reader

In the rising fame of Queen, many journalists were often there to talk. More often than naught, the band found themselves repeating things before sending the reporter away. That was until Y/N L/N.

When she was there, she found a way to make herself like able. Speaking about the art of performing with Freddie. Roger’s song writing. Brian’s understanding of writing music. And most of all, she got John to talk and smile and laugh. None of the others could.

She was the one they sent whenever they needed information of Queen. And that became the only time John was excited for an interview.

“You guys have another interview.” Miami said, walking into the studio. “It’s with Y/N.”

“Oh, that’s great!” John said, his tone of voice revealing how he really felt about said reporter.

Roger turned to look at the bassist. “That’s the most excited I’ve ever seen you for an interview.”

“Yeah, John, what is it?” Brian asked, just as curious.

“Nothing, just… interested in the… interview topics?”

“I think our lovely John is definitely interested in something, but not the interview.” Freddie said, coming to sit next to Roger and Brian.

Roger leaned forward to tease. “My my, Deaky, do you fancy Y/N?”

John raised his brows with a mischievous grin but shook his head anyway.

“You should totally take her out. It could be so romantic,” Brian said.

“No, I could never talk to Y/N.”

“You’re distaste towards human interaction is becoming… well, quite distasteful,” Freddie said with a pout. “What if we were to do something?”

Roger jumped to his feet in excitement. “Yeah, we could talk to Y/N for you!”

“No, we won’t be doing any of that, thank you. I’m willing to let things happen on their own.”

“John, dear, if we let you deal with it like that, nothing will happen.”

Freddie didn’t give John the luxury of arguing back. Said a simple “tut tut” and walked off, taking Brian and Roger with him. Which was fine because that’s when you walked in.

“Hello, John.” You smiled at him. “Where’s the rest of them?”

“Elsewhere. How have you been, Y/N?”

“Fine, fine. And you?”

“Quite alright. So what’s the plan for today?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m to ride with you to the venue while you all do sound checks and the like. In between those is when I’ll start individual interviews.”

In many ways you were found of John as well. You felt his answers were truthful in a way that the others didn’t quite have. But that was on the professional level. He made you happy, and laugh. He was very open, which you found out was actually a rare thing.

On many occasions, you tricked yourself into thinking he was just being courteous.

Much to John’s dismay, you got Freddie first.

“Hello, Fred. You can have a seat, I just need to get a new pen. Seems that I have lost mine.”

“Oh you won’t need that. Come, let’s talk.” He hooked arms with you. “Shall I interview you?”

“Me? Whatever for?”

“What, can’t I speak with my darling friend Y/N?”

You shrugged but went along with it. “What’s bothering you?”

Freddie waved his hands in dismissal. “You shan’t be my therapist either. This is about you, my dear. What do you look for in a lifelong partner?”

“Oh, that’s a bit forward." Freddie shrugged as if it wasn't "Well I don't know. Someone who's honest, I guess."

"John is very honest. Ever think about things short term?"

"No. I see no desire in that."

Freddie crossed his legs, then uncrossed them and stood. "Well that's all I have for you, darling. I'll send Roger in."

You didn't acknowledge him as he left the room, then Roger was walking in. He took Freddie's spot on the couch.

"How have you been, Y/N."

"Fine, fine. Now, I we see that you wrote a song on the album. What influences -"

"Oh, hush up about the album. Let's talk."

Okay....

"Roger, what are you and Freddie doing?"

"Oh, he got started? Good. Are you doing anything this coming week?"

"No, not that I know of."

"Neither is John." Roger left it at that and leaves the room, leaving you completely shocked.

Brian walked in with a smile. He would be easy to ask. He'd reveal himself if you asked.

"Brian May, what are you guys doing?"

"What do you mean?" He started to play with his hands. He was already nervous.

"You, Roger, and Freddie. What are you doing?" You crossed your arms, hoping that you could weasel the answer out of Brian.

"Y/N, we're not -"

"Were you coming in here to talk about John? Now tell me, what are you doing?"

Brian sighed and deflected in defeat. "John likes you, but he wouldn't do anything. We decided that we would try to push you into it instead." He stood up. "I'll leave now."

It was the greatest news you could've heard! You couldn't wait for him to say something, because you knew John. He wouldn't on any occasion!

John coming into the room took you out of your head. He smiled at you, sitting down at the couch.

"Hello, Y/N. What questions do you have about the album?"

At least he didn't set them up, you reasoned with yourself.

"John, I don't want to talk about the album." Everything was set up, and there was no better time to admit your feelings than here. "I really like you. And unfortunately, Brian did said you did liked me too?"

He went quiet and red in the face. "Y/N, I'm sorry you had to hear it from them."

"It's fine, John, really, but is it true?"

"Yes, Y/N, I really do. You're really beautiful, insanely smart, and just so... perfect. Can I take you out?"

You embraced him. "Of course, John!"

Freddie, Brian, Roger stood standing, peaking through the door. They froze when they saw John glare at them over your shoulder. The boys laughed before shutting the door.

Freddie sighed, dropping his hand to his hip. "Well that didn't take long."

[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."

[danses-with-dogmeat]

2K Event Prompt Masterlist

Here is a list of all the prompts for my 2K Celebration Event! I'll be updating as I go with the links, so you should be able to click on any of them once it's fully completed 😊

Please be sure to pay mind to the ratings of each work as well, and to the details on the prompts themselves once you click on the links so that you're mindful of any saucy explicit material!

Thank you all, and I hope you enjoy! 😁

A: Arcade Gannon -- Fluff -- SFW

B: Benny Gecko -- Fluff -- SFW

C: Charon -- Fluff -- NSFW

D: Deacon -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

E: ED-E -- Fluff -- SFW

F: Fawkes -- Fluff -- SFW

G: Gob -- Fluff -- SFW

H: Mr. House -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

I/O: Old Longfellow -- Hurt/Comfort -- NSFW

J: John Hancock -- Fluff -- NSFW

K: The King -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

L: Lily Bowen -- Fluff -- SFW

M: Mysterious Stranger -- Angst -- SFW

N: Nick Valentine -- Fluff -- NSFW

P: Preston Garvey -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

Q/U/X: Ulysses -- Fluff -- SFW

R: Raul Tejada -- Hurt/Comfort -- NSFW

S: Sunny Smiles -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

T: Three Dog -- Fluff -- NSFW

V: Veronica Santangelo -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

W: Whitechapel Charlie -- Angst -- SFW

Y/Z: Yes Man -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

[lady-maracas]

i love ur writing sm 😭 can u pls do number 14 angst prompt with deaky ?? it’d mean sm haha, thanks !!

I cant lose you again.

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Word count:1,8k

Warnings: None!!

Masterlist

I loved living in the countryside. I always thought the calmness and the beautiful landscape were way better than the loudness of London. Again, my friends seemed to think otherwise. Most of my childhood friends moved to the big city, while I stayed here. The others? Well I guess their only reason to stay here was because they didn’t have enough money to move out on their own.

Well I am sure not ashamed of living the countryside! In fact, I’m actually quite glad I get to stay here with my parents. I have a great job at a bakery, where I get to meet lots of wonderful people.

The sound of the house phone pulled me out of my thoughts. I heard my moms rushed steps as she answered the phone.

“Hello?” I heard her say.

Silence.

“Yes, she’s upstairs, let me call her just a sec- Y/N!!?” She yelled.

I ran down the stairs. I already knew who was calling, it was my best friend. I had met her at the bakery. She was already working there when I got the job. She was the one who showed me everything I had to know. She is like a big ball of energy, I love her.

I snatch the phone from my mothers hand and try to take a breath before I let out: “Hey! What’s up?”.

“Honey you need to come to the pub with me tonight!” She almost screamed.

“Well actually I was planning on-”

“No, no. You don’t understand, I didn’t say ‘Do you want to come to the pub with me tonight?’, I said ‘You NEED to come to the pub with me tonight!’ It was not a question!” She was clearly excited, I didn’t know why, but before I even had the time to ask her what’s got her in such a rush, she added: “I heard there was a small band playing tonight, and I’m not one to usually spoil the surprise, but you might actually know one of them…”

“Know one of them? What do you mean?” I held the phone between my ear and my shoulder, trying to ignore my mothers complaints about the phone bill for this month.

“Do you remember your bestie, your best pal, Johnny boy-” she cooed.

“John?!”

“Anyways I don’t have very much time to talk. I’ll come pick you up around 7pm. Be ready!” She hung up before I had the time to process what she just said.

Deaky?

//

A couple years earlier…

“Why are you even leaving? Why are you leaving me behind? Am I not good enough for you” I complained to my best friend. We grew up together. We were attached at the hip. When you saw me, John would never we far behind.

Unfortunately, he decided to study far away from here. In fact, he was leaving for the big city, London. It broke my heart when he told me the news. But seeing him so happy made me realize I couldn’t hold him back. I wanted to follow him, to move in with him in the city, but I couldn’t leave my life here behind. My parents needed me, I loved my job and I always pictured myself living here forever.

I kept complaining while he was packing his stuff. He would be leaving tomorrow.

“What are you even talking about? You are perfect Y/N! You have been the greatest of friends to me during all these years and I wouldn’t change it for the world! But this is my chance, Y/N, it’s my chance to finally be happy and do what I love! Can you please try to understand that?” He kept packing, and the more he packed, the more he sounded annoyed.

“I understand that…” I looked down at my feet. I truly wanted him to be happy, even tho it meant I would lose him.

“I promise I’ll call and write to you everyday!” He finally looked at me, taking a break from packing to take a small breath. “This doesn’t mean we won’t stay friends, you’re still my #1, always remember that”

Oh and how I wanted to cry, I wanted to hold him forever, I wanted to keep him from going away, I wanted to stay at his side. But that was not possible. No matter what I said, no matter what I did, I couldn’t change his mind.

//

Now.

“Quick, Y/N, we’re going to be late!” My best friend yelled at me through the rolled down window of her car.

“Late for what?” I ran to her car.

“For the drinks, of course!” And she drove away.

When we got there, the place was actually a bit more packed than it usually was. This town wasn’t big, which meant every face was familiar. And as of the band playing on stage, one of the faces was familiar too…

She was right.

He’s here.

And he saw me. Oh god he saw me! His expression changed immediately after we made eye contact. He tried his best to keep playing without being distracted by my presence, and I tried to act calm, as if I didn’t just see my ex best friend I haven’t seen in more than two years.

I drank my drinks, ignoring the piercing stare Deaky was giving me behind my back. And when they were done with their show, everyone applauded, while I was stuck in my own thoughts.

“Come on! You’ve got to go see him! It’s been so long”. My best friend grabbed my arm and pulled me out of my seat.

“Stop! I can’t do that!”

“Why not?” She turned around and gave me a weird look.

“Because I…I don’t-”

“Exactly, you have no good reason. Let’s go!” She pulled me in the “backstage” area.

As soon as I saw him I froze, and so did he. We both looked at each other with tears in our eyes. I thought it would be awkward, I thought I’d be mad at him because he stopped writing to me after a year. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t even find one ounce of anger towards him.

So I ran up to him, and I think he ran up to me too, and I gave him the biggest hug I’ve ever given in my entire life. I heard him whisper a small “Hey little one” and I pulled back. I took a good look at him.

His hair had gotten longer, it looked so soft. His grey eyes shined under the bright lights. His features had gotten a little sharper. But in the end he was still my Deaky.

“I can’t believe you’re here! I mean, I’m so happy to see you!” I find myself choking out those words.

“I’m so happy to see you too! The boys wanted to do some shows and I couldn’t stop myself from asking to do one here! I missed this place so much.” I looked over his shoulder at his band mates. They suspiciously looked at us with satisfied grins on their face. One of them, with dark shoulder length hair walked towards us.

“You must be Y/N! Deaky here talked about you a lot! I’m Freddie.” He extended his hand for me to shake, which I took gladly. “You’re welcomed to stay here with us and catch up with your dear boyfrie- Ow!” He didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence, because John elbowed him in the ribs.

“Okay Fred, I think you can go sit with the boys, I actually have to talk to Y/N if that’s alright.” He turned to me, asking if it was alright.

“Sure!” I said.

“I meant- outside.” He added shyly.

“Oh! Yes, alright let’s go.” I walked out the nearest door, which I assumed lead outside.

I sat down on some stairs, and the boy beside me did the same. We stayed in comfortable silence for some time before he let out: “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. It’s been what? Two years?” I said softly.

“Myes, two years.” He nodded.

“You stopped writing to me, calling too.” I added.

“I really tried, Y/N, but it was hard to find the time with the band-”

“So that’s what you do now?” I scoffed.

“Do what?”

“Play in a band?” When he left, it was to study electrical engineering. Knowing he didn’t even end up doing that made me feel like I had lost him for nothing.

“I’m happy.” he simply said.

“Good for you.”

Silence.

“You know I loved you, right?” He said after some time.

“Yes, I loved you too…”

“No, you don’t get it. I LOVED loved you.” He looked away, as if he was ashamed of what he was about to say.

“Like I said, I LOVED loved you too. It broke my heart when you left, because I wasn’t just letting my best friend go, no, you were more to me.” I admitted.

“Oh…”

“It doesn’t matter now though does it? It’s all in the past. Right?” I let out, trying to keep in my anger.

He didn’t say anything.

“Right?” I asked again.

“Y/N, I…I know it’s been some time, I know we’re older now, but to me you’re still the same little Y/N I’ve come to love. I tried to forget about my stupid crush on you and I honestly thought I did forget about it but as soon as I laid eyes on you tonight, it all came back rushing on me.”

I stared at him. Oh how I loved him. I loved him with all my heart. I never wanted to let him go. What I did next was insanely stupid. I don’t know what went through my head, but I couldn’t stop myself.

I kissed him.

It was quick, just a small peck. As soon as I pulled back, I blinked a couple of times, trying to process what just happened. He did the same but then he leaned back in, cradling my cheek softly and planting a much more soft kiss on my lips.

I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to stay like that forever, with him. Unfortunately, we had to pull back to take a breath. When I looked up at him, he was already staring at me, a small smile across his face.

“Come with me” he said.

“What?”

“Come to London with me, move with me please Y/N-” he got up to his feet but I cut him off.

“Deaks, I can’t. You know I can’t leave my life here behind!”

“Please, I beg of you, I can’t lose you again!”

“I…alright” I give up, I don’t know what I’m fighting for anymore. I love him. I’ll be happy with him, whenever I’m with him, I know I’ll be happy, in the countryside or in the city. “I’ll come with you.”

“Really? That’s amazing!” He picks my up and lifts me off my feet. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more.” I smile.

“That’s not possible!”

“Then I love you just as much as you love me!” I laugh.

“That’s a whole lot then.”

“Good”

[likesomekindofcheese]

Hey!

Could I request a capricorn reader with John and Roger? And it's a study date with each of them?

I love your writing <3

OOOOoooooo. that sounds adorable!!! I have already written a Capricorn headcanon, but here is how I imagine a study date would go...

John Deacon:

He would be the one that would want to study “smarter, not harder”, meanwhile you want to spend at least 2-4 hours a day hitting the books and even have it blocked out in your planner-a planner you always have by your side.

John would just show you about flashcards “ere, Y/N, just spend twenty minutes with these! And try it-try the red ink!” He pointed to a little box of black and red pens. You scooped out a red pen and wrote your information onto the card.

Like some kind of magic (heh heh) it worked. The information stuck to your head like glue.

If you go to one of your flats or a dorm or something like that, Deaky insists on music playing. He likes to play more bouncy stuff and you find yourself tapping your foot along. You even shimmy a bit as you read, finding your smile growing subconsciously.

At some point, Deaky goes “c’mon Y/N, let’s dance.” He closed the bok aside. The tune drifting from the vinyl was irresistible.

“What, John!? What about the-” you shook your head. 

You knew this test was a make or break situation. And so help you, you would get a high score.

“We’ve been working forever, let’s dance!!” Deaky begged.

 His eyes went big and he gave you the gentlest smile. The desperation to complete your degree at top marks melted at the sight of it. 

He reached out his white hand and you accepted it.

Of course he swoops you into his arms and you begin swaying and moving, spinning like a mad dreidel. When he dips you back, only to pull you back up again. Both of you giggle in the swiftness.

“Y/N...is it alright if I kiss you?” he asked. His face a bit pink and his jaw tight.

There was a slight pause as you mulled it over. Your heart racing, still processing the words in front of you. You seemed to be dreaming.

“Ye...yes!”

He went over, his breath smelling of coffee and his lips delicate and soft. He smelled of the old pages of his text book and his hand was placed on the side of your head as you leaned into it mid-kiss.

Once he pulled away. You both burst into a small laugh, releasing that tension.

“I...I don’t normally take breaks like that, John...”

“You always work so hard, Y/N...”

“I think I need a break like that again...”

He leaned in for another kiss.

Roger: 

Roger was not the type to hit the library too hard. Not that he wasn’t getting good grades. He made time for good grades and studying. He was in there browsing some books when he saw you. Your coffee was cooling as you were reviewing your notes and planning for an essay to write. Your pencil scribbling away, your hair lovely, your eyes bright and focused, your sweater color making you pop like a flower in that drab library.

Roger made every excuse to go there, to admire you. Also it was nice to have a change of place. You noticed him and gave him a smile.

He shoved away any thoughts of hesitation or shyness at the sight of you. He huffed his chest, his typical drummer self and walked up to you.

“I’m sorry...but what’s the best pastry at the library?”

“Oh! The carrot cake!” you say.

“The what?”

“Come, let me show you...”

You ran over to the coffee shop and showed him the array. There were strawberry and chocolate muffins that looked inviting, but Roger gave a sneer in spite of himself.

“Carrot cake?”

You could tell he liked you. And with a face like that, who were you to resist?

“If I get you one, you can study with me...”

“Okay...it just sounds a bit...”

“A bit what?”

“Aren’t others more exciting, you know?”

Handing over a couple pounds (Roger chipped in to cover half), the barista handed you the pastry. Getting a napkin and two forks, you went over to the table.

“No, the library!”

“What! What if someone catches us?”

“No one will! C’mon!” he insisted

He extends his hand and you accept it. So in between your textbook, you take bites of the cake. And Roger melts at the taste of it.

“Oh go-this is delicious!” He took a bit of the cream cheese filling on his finger and licked it off.

“Shh, someone might hear you!”

Once it’s devoured, Roger offers to stay.

“It’s just this essay, it’s driving me crazy...what other point can I make...”

Glancing over your notes, Roger suggests one thing. You blink. In shock that he brought up that point.

“What, really?!” you gasped. You tilted your head.

“Yes, I do mean it!” he nodded, his delicate fingers circling a note you had written in your worn notebook.

You added it, both of you talking furiously. He gave you a nice smile that flashed when you discussed the class and your degree and the determination you had to succeed in it.

Lo and behold, when your essay was graded, you passed with flying colors. Although you already had Roger’s phone number memorized, and you called him to meet you to study again...only that time, there was less focus on the books.

Taglist: @seraphicmercury

@queenlover05

@rhapsodyrecs

[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.

[beatlemoon]

The Only Exception 🦋✨🦋✨🦋✨🦋

(John Deacon x Y/N)

Warning : Nothing :)))

(Sorry for typographical and grammatical errors)

Pairing : John Deacon x Reader (Y/N)

There's a lot of negative effects for a child to see their parents divorce. Children and adolescents who experience the divorce of their parents also have higher rates of depressed mood, lower self-esteem, and emotional distress. Parental divorce is also associated with negative outcomes and earlier life transitions as offspring enter young adulthood and later life.

And for me, i grew up depressed (bit better now) and i'm not even looking forward on getting into a relationship or getting married with someone cause, when i was younger i saw my daddy cried and cursed at the wind, he broke his own heart and i watched as he tried to reassemble it and when i saw my mother swore she won't let herself forget, how she did failed their relationship that hurts me to the core.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐰 (after a couple of years) after the divorce of my parents 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 , 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬.

I mean not very lonely at all cause i have my bestfriend(s) and band mates, Freddie, Brian, Roger and Of course John. John has been my bestfriend since we're on middle school.

*lil flashback*

I sat on my favorite spot in school the library. I buried my face on the table, crying out all the pain quietly. I don't really have a lot of friends, but sure as hell i have real one. John.

"Hey, i was looking for you around the school. I'm glad, i finally found you..." Deacy mumbled quietly. "Hey? Y/n, are you good?" He rubbed my back as i continue to sob quietly.

"mo-mom a-nd dad ju-just di-divorced" i stuttered. "Come here let me hug you." He suggests as he spread his arm for me. Which i gladly accepted.

I hug him tight. A hug that feels like i don't wanna let him go anymore.

As i continue to cry, soaking his uniform but i do know that he doesn't mind it at all. He loves me as his bestfriend of course, that's why.

"there...there... it's okay, y/n... i'm always here for you no matter what...we won't leave each other...." He whispered to my ear.

I swear to myself that i won't be inlove with anybody, but i'd be lying if i said I don't have a thing for Deacy. I mean he's always with me and i do really have a very nice bond with him, I'd say there's such thing in him i do really adore more than anybody else.

"Hey? Yoohoo anybody home, y/n? Want some coffee?" Brian asked whilst waving his hand in front of my face try'na get my attention. "Uh-Uh yeah, i would love to Bri..." I sighed. Brian lean in.

"Thinking about Deacy, aren't ya?" Brian whispered. I saw Deacy in the corner of my eye looks a little annoyed when he saw Brian being so close to me. So i decide to distance myself from Bri a bit.

"Huh?! of course not! what are you saying Bri!" I chuckled awkwardly and hit his arm playfully, try'na hide the fact that he's right. "You should tell him about that thing, you don't want someone else to get him before you, you know?" He explained.

"Hey! First of all, I would never chase no man, Bri. I ain't desperate bitch and second of all, i didn't said i have a thing for him!" I pointed out. "Really?" Brian teased. "Really!" I glared at him playfully. He playfully put his hand up in surrending manner. "Fine, i gotta go get the coffee's madame!" Bri waved as he walked out from the recording studio.

"What's up with you two? You're strange!" Roger looked at me confusedly. "Who? Bri?" I asked. "Yeah. Are you two?" Roger wiggled his eyebrows. Before i could answer, Deacy playing random riffs with his bass, you could hear there's something up with him cause he's giving too much pressure on the strings.

So i decided to walk up to him. "Hey, you good?" I asked but he just nod and continue what he's been doing not even bothering to look at me. That hurts a bit. "Hey, y/n darling the coffee is here!" Freddie said while handling my coffee, to Deacy and Roger.

After the break, we continue on what we've been doing like making some new songs for our new album, i observed that Deacy has been ignoring the entire time even i try to get his attention.

After several hours doing things we need to do to make our music, we decided to call it a day.

Brian head home earlier while Deacy said he'll go to somewhere else he didn't say. I don't know why my heartaches a bit when i feel like he doesn't want me around. So i decided to walk home to get some fresh air.

"Are you sure you're fine walking alone, y/n darling?" Freddie asked. "Yeah it's a few blocks away you know, y/n..." Roger added. "Yes, i'm sure Freddie, don't worry Rog!" I smiled and waved at them. "Alright then, take care darling!" He waved and drove away.

As they drove away i head to the way i need to go to get into my place. As i'm walking it started to rain.

Ha! I'm lucky enough, to have my umbrella with me. I opened it and to protect myself against the cold water from the sky. As i continue walking i can't get Deacy off my head.

Wondering where is, if he's already home, if he is safe... speaking of where he is, he's walking to the same direction with me. Yeah, we live near to each other but we're not neighbors tho.

His clothes are quite soaked. I don't want him to catch cold, so i decided to sprint towards him to share my umbrella. "Hey, i know you don't wanna talk to me but i'm too concerned about you so i want to share my little umbrella with you." I spoke.

He didn't answered and he keep his arm crossed. "It's okay if you don't wanna talk to me, John. I still would share this with you." I mumbled. "Don't worry at me, y/n the rain aren't that bad." Deacy reassured me but the nature, do really want to prove something.

It started to rain harder. "Not that bad huh?" I chuckled. "That's just coincidence you know." He shrugged. "Why are you avoiding me earlier?" I asked. "Because..." Before he could answer i saw the park we used to go to and i decided to pull him to the park we used to go to when we're just little kids. "What's going o-" he's confused at first but he calmed a bit once he understand.

"Remember we used to go here, a lot?!" I giggle like a little kid. "How could i forget. I proposed to you over here." He pointed out to the swing side of the park. "And i said yes." I winked at him causing him to grin.

"So why are you avoiding me again earlier?" I asked another time. "Because, i'm inlove with you, y/n. But i do know that you're not the type who likes dating and some sort and i understand that you don't want me too--" i dropped the umbrella letting our body soaked and i leaned in to kiss him, it was slow and passionate kiss as we pulled away we pressed our forehead against each other.

"Remember the day i cried because my parents got divorced?" I asked. "Yes, of course, love. I said I won't be leaving you and i do mean that" He replied and he peck the tip of my nose.

"𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐈'𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 believe 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭, but there's something in you, you are unique, i know that you are my 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧." I peck another kiss on his lips.

[assembledherethevolunteers]

Day 12- Christmas Film Night

A/N: Prompt #12 for @acdeaky ‘s writing challenge! I hope you enjoy some dad!Deaky because I loved it. (Also, we’ll pretend that 80s John exists more nowish because I couldn’t think of any 80s kids movies around Christmas)

Pairing: 80s John Deacon x Female!Reader

Summary: You, John, and the kids have a movie night.

Warnings: Fluff

Taglist: @queenlover05 @theblossomknows

 “Mummy! When is Daddy going to be home?” Your daughter, Nicola asked.

“Any minute, honey. Why don’t you make sure that the blankets are all in place?”

She nodded at you and then ran into the living room.

Your son, Nathaniel, looked up at you. “What can I do, Mummy?”

“Why don’t you get the popcorn bowls from the pantry?”

He grinned and ran to the pantry, happy to help. He brought you back the popcorn bowls as the front door opened.

“DADDY!” The children ran to the door.

“Oof! Well hello!” John’s voice floated in from the door. “And just what are you two up to?” John walked in, each one of the children clinging to a leg. “Darling, I found these adorable monsters near the front door. I’d thought that we should keep them. What do you think?” John walked over to you, the children still hanging onto his legs. He gave you a kiss and a smile.

“Hello, love.”

“Hello, as to answer your questions, yes, I suppose we should keep them.”

John looked down at the kids. “Good news, we can keep you, little monsters.”

Nicola giggled. “Daddy! We’re not monsters!”

“Oh, that’s even better news!” John’s eyes traveled to living room to see a fort, made of blankets and pillows. “And what’s going on here?”

“We want to watch movies in the fort tonight!” Nathaniel told him.

“What a fantastic idea, who is picking the movie?”

The children were talking about which movie they were going to watch. As they did, John joined you in the kitchen to get the popcorn and other snacks. You and John caught up with each quickly as you filled bowls and cups.

“Mummy! Daddy! We picked a movie!”

You and John walked out to the living room asking what movie you were going to watch.

“’Elf’!”

You and John exchanged a glance before he placed the food down, and went to put the movie in. You and the kids got comfortable in the fort, everybody making sure they could reach the snacks.

John came over and laid down so that the children were lying between you.

“Everybody ready?” John asked, already knowing the answer.

The four of you watched the movie in the fort. You watched as Nathaniel fell asleep next to you. You looked over to let John know, but noticed that Nicola had fallen asleep on his chest and John’s eyes were starting to flutter closed too.

“John,” you whispered to him.

He opened his eyes and looked at you. You gave him a soft smile, which he returned.

“Should we take them upstairs?”

John looked at the kids and nodded. Each of you gently picked one up and took them up the stairs to their rooms. You laid Nathaniel down and then went back downstairs. You got yourself comfortable in the fort again, bundling yourself up in a blanket.

“Room for one more in there?” John asked.

You lifted the blanket up and John settled himself next to you, under the blanket. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. You snuggled into him, breathing a sigh of contentment.

“Good day, sweetheart?”

You looked up at John and gave him a kiss.

“Much better now.”

[jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels]

Sneak Peek - Don’t You Hear My Call Though Your Many Years Away

I haven’t abandoned this story, I’m still writing! And now that my busy season is over, I’ve got more time to dedicate to it! Here’s a snippet from a later chapter. Have a tissue handy, this one hurts.

“Thank you, Deacy.” I said, moving back into the room.

“You’re welcome. Goodnight sweetheart” he responded, his hand brushing my cheek, before turning back to leave.

He made his way back to the elevator, and stood there with his hands in his pockets. When the doors opened he looked back towards my door, and just like the first night he walked me to my room, I was peeking out watching him, he waved and stepped inside the elevator.

I closed the door, leaned my back against the wall and slid down, ignoring my elegant surroundings. My legs collapsing under me. I curled myself around my knees and the tears and sobs came in full force. Uncontrollable, loud and violent.

The man I loved was still there, still the same though time had changed his physical features. His softness, gentleness and kindness were all there.

I cried for the loss of time with him, I grieved having missed out on so much of his life and I lamented out of jealousy. I always wanted him to be happy, with me or not, but I still mourned what I would never, and could never, have.

@queensdivas @liliah39 @leah-halliwell92 @painkiller80 @painandpleasure86 @deakys-chesthair @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @heybuddy-drabbles @queenwouldyourathers @mirkwoodshewolf @ixchel-9275 @johndeaconstoothgap @deakysmisfire @thosequeenboys @tryin-her-best @bus-jackson @deacyspatronusisacheesetoastie @johndeaconshands @apailana @cowparsleys @januarycolor @madamsixx @amethyst-serenade @mazzell-ro @deakysgurl @hellysthings @lady-artemis27 @john-deacon-fucks @johndeaky @deacydisco @eileen-crys

[thosequeenboys]

Super Trouper (John Deacon x Reader)

Summary:  You and John Deacon became good friends during college.  When John joins a band, you both thought it was a fun hobby - until it became more. Over the years, you each followed your own career paths and shared your love of music, staying in touch mainly through letters, as friends -- until he invites you to Queen’s show at Madison Square Garden in 1980.

A/N: This piece was written for @imcompletelylost for the Possessed by Love Event.  I was so excited to be your creator, as we have some musical interests in common that I incorporated into the story. I hope you enjoy them. The story is based on my favorite ABBA song. Thank you @yourlocalmusicalprostitute for coordinating this event.  Thank you, @warriorteam1924 for great beta reading, ideas & support.  Also thanks to @mirkwoodshewolf and @iwilltrytobereasonable for brainstorming and your terrific ideas.

Warnings:  2-parts fluff to 1-part angst.  Band and song dates may not perfectly align with the story time frames.  I hope music historians will be forgiving, and any lapses will not detract from the story.

 It’s 1971, and you and your best friend, John Deacon, were in the cafeteria line pushing your trays along the railing.  Each of you grabbed a plate of sodden fish and chips from under the orange warming lights. After four years, you still missed a good old American burger and fries, but aside from the food, attending college in London had been a great experience.

“They asked me to audition. Seem like a good gaggle of guys.” John laughed at his alliteration.

“They call themselves Queen? Like, Your Majesty?” you queried.

“Indeed,” John affirmed. “The lead singer, Freddie, is an art student. He’s drawing a crest. And there’s Brian and Roger.  They’re science students.”

“Lovely!” you enthused.

“A good distraction from studies.” John concurred. “Though they do seem quite ambitious.”

“Can’t hurt to give it a go,” you shrugged. “Though good thing you all will have those polished degrees to fall back on,” you said, only half joking.

“I am pleased to confer your degrees upon you. Congratulations to the class of 1972,”  the Dean asserted with a tight grin.  The audience broke out into polite applause.  You looked around a bit bewildered. You missed the American tradition of giddy graduates tossing their mortarboards in the air with abandon. After a quick embrace, you and John made your way to the local pub to meet up with his band mates, now considered your friends.

“So, Y/N,” Brian said, placing a beer down before you, “You’re heading back to America next year? So willing to leave our lush gardens, cultural sophistication -- and our dear friend, John?

“Not to mention, the next band destined for greatness,” Freddie declared with a broad smile as he tucked his chin slightly, his long hair falling into his face.

“Yes, well,” you took a deep breath feeling four sets of eyes upon you. “The advertising agency I worked for during school offered me a position in their New York office.  Always wanted to live in New York.  I will miss London’s beauty and culture,” your voice lilted with the faint British accent you had picked up.

“And…” Roger prompted you to respond to the end of Brian’s statement.

“And, yes, the people I’ve met,” you spat out. You shot a glance at John, and you melted as you felt his eyes meeting yours. “And the memorable times I’ve had. With them.” you added, trying to sound light, but you felt tears collecting on the rim of your eyes and you blinked to dissipate them. You knew their presence resulted from the thought of leaving the most important person to you-the lithe, long-haired brunette, whose grey eyes you were now lost in-your best friend, John. Only a friend, the last four years had established. You grabbed a napkin and subtly dabbed at your eyes.

John blinked, and his lips fell into a grin that made his eyes crinkle. “You can’t be talking about our first day as chemistry lab partners when your signature hand movements to Dancing in the Street knocked the beaker clear off the table, smashing it to a million pieces.” John smirked.

“No,” you laughed, moving past your embarrassment to counter, “I’m actually thinking about the time we stayed up all night to write our English papers and finished each other’s sentences, taking sips of beer after each successful line.”

“Some of the best writing the University has ever seen,” John deadpanned, as he looked up wistfully. “And one of the highest English scores I ever earned, legless or sober.” He added, rubbing his chin.

“There it is then,” Roger interjected.

You both looked at him mystified.

“You’ll stay in touch by writing letters. Though you’ll each have to finish your own sentences, I suppose.” Roger concluded, unleashing his playful smile.

*****

Your tight bell bottoms skimmed the floor and the loose open-neck cotton blouse with colorful embroidery flowed around your curves. You glanced at your bags piled by the door, moving over to check one to distract yourself from the impending onslaught of emotions. A soft knock interrupted your nervous efforts. You rezipped the bag as John entered and halted, taking you in.  His swallowed, and his mind revisited the thoughts he repeated to himself over the last few weeks. If only. If only this conversation could be different. If only I said something sooner. If only we wouldn’t be risking our friendship. If only you wanted this to be more. ‘If I only had the words to tell you, If you only had the time to understand. Though I know it wouldn't change your feelings, And I know you'll carry on the best you can.’ (1) You’d probably go anyway, he had concluded.

“Thanks for seeing me off,” You said, avoiding his gaze.

“I…I brought you something,” John blurted out, as his long fingers dug into the front pocket of his faded bell bottoms. He thrust a rectangular box toward you.

You forced a smile through your tense face and lifted the lid. You pulled out a delicate sterling silver chain that held a mounted luminescent grey oval stone with angular cuts that refracted blue hues.  “John, it’s…beautiful,” you said, as you reached behind your neck to fasten it.

“Here, let me,” he moved behind you, his strong fingers overlaying yours to ease the clasp, as he thought of the day he purchased the gift. Brian had accompanied John to the jewelry shop, and as they peered into the display case, Brian suddenly gasped. “Oh, a moonstone. So beautiful how it catches the light and changes colors.  This is really exquisite, John.  And, it will be a reminder that even apart, you’ll still share the same moon.”

Back to the present, John stepped in front of you and admired the gift resting splendidly between your collarbones, perfectly framed by your open blouse. “I’m not into all that crystal nonsense,” John said, “but it’s said to be a calming gemstone. And a wise man said, it will remind us that though we’re apart, we’ll be sharing the same moon.” John figured Brian wouldn’t mind him lifting his line.

“Oh John, that’s lovely,” you leaned in to hug him, and as he returned the embrace, your denim jeans pressed together and your arms pulled each other close. How could you be leaving this, him? You had to accept that nothing more was meant to be.

“Wait! I have something for you!” You pulled away suddenly, knowing time was of the essence, and reached into your bag, retrieving a long black box.  You held it out to John, who opened it quickly. He held up the beautiful pen engraved with JRD.

“Now that we’ll be writing to each other….” You indicated.

“It’s perfect.” John said his eyes shifting between you and the gift.  Before you could embrace again, a horn blared. “Cab’s here. Let me grab some bags,” John looked down, hefted two bags and headed out the door. You looked around your flat, grabbed your last suitcase and purse.  As you entered the hallway and slowly shut the door, you knew this special chapter in your life had ended.  And you hoped Roger was right: that your friendship with John would continue from afar.

*****

Sirens blared outside as you dragged yourself up the four flights of stairs.  You felt a corner of the record digging into your side through your thin fabric bag. Once inside your apartment, you pulled the record out of the beautiful jacket, and read the song list on the label.  You propped open the heavy lid of your record player and blew on the vinyl disk before placing it gingerly on the turntable.  You flipped the on switch, and the album turned rhythmically.  You carefully lifted the needle, hovering it over the fourth groove as the record turned, waiting to release it at just the right place to start the song, at just the right indentation to avoid a scratch. You steadied your fingers and eased the needle down carefully. After a beat, success! ‘Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?’ (2)  You took a deep breath as the beautiful, familiar melody consumed you, taking you on an emotional journey, flooding your small flat. You kicked off your heels, curled up on the couch and grabbed your writing kit from the side table.

Dear John,

I’m listening to Bohemian Rhapsody-on my own record player! What a work of art!  I loved your last letter describing your creative adventures with the boys at Ridge Farm. The song sums up how I’ve been feeling recently: my fantasy of working at a big ad agency has been replaced by the reality that starting out, it’s more grunt work than glamour.  Accepting that helps me stick with it. And, it calls into question, what really matters in life?  And what is Scaramouche, anyway? Ha-ha. Give the boys my love and let them know I am so proud of them and so pleased you’re all getting deserved recognition.  Too bad those hard-earned degrees are going to waste! Cheers, Y/N

Dearest Y/N,

Yes, the reception for A Night at the Opera has been a whirlwind and exceeded our wildest dreams.  Speaking of which, I had a dream we were back at Uni playing the finishing sentences game in your flat. I handed you my notebook and instead of words, there were musical notes. Probably because I’ve been writing some songs. In fact, I wrote You’re my Best Friend for you.  True story.  Yours, John

*****

Dearest Y/N,

I know we were both disappointed that we missed each other during our recent US tour. I hope your business trip was all it was supposed to be. Well, we’re back in London now, having had to cut the tour short in Boston, as Brian was very ill-and is still recovering from Hepatitis. Suffice it to say, it was very scary. But, you know him, as ill as he was, he was still writing. He was afraid we’d kick him out of the band, which we would never do. We are brothers, family.  I thought the band was just a hobby, and now I can’t imagine my life without being part of Queen.  Love to you always, John

Dear John,

My goodness, I hope Brian has recovered, and you have as well from a stressful trip. Speaking of trips, mine was…very good. I met someone special… Eric. We just clicked-about life. He’s in Boston. And get this! He was supposed to see the show you had to cancel because of Brian’s illness. He was so impressed that I knew you all ‘way back when.’ Can’t wait to see him next weekend. Not picking out the wedding gown yet….But, I did pick up Billy Joel’s early album Street Life Serenade. The Entertainer reminds me of you and the boys: ‘I am the entertainer. And I know just where I stand. Another serenader. And another long-haired band. Today I am your champion. I may have won your hearts. But I know the game, you'll forget my name. And I won't be here in another year, if I don't stay on the charts.’. Well, you don’t have to worry about the last line. You guys will be on the charts for the foreseeable future-and beyond. I also thought it was funny that he wrote, ‘if you’re gonna have a hit, you gotta make it fit, so they cut it down to 3:05.’ (3) Tell Freddie he proved that wrong with Bohemian Rhapsody! Take care and hugs to Brian. Cheers, Y/N

****

Dearest Y/N:

That’s a great song! Joel’s descriptions are certainly accurate, but they don’t capture everything. It’s been a tough time. Tensions permeate the group, and there are lots of arguments. I do think in a weird way they help to fuel creativity, but it can feel exhausting. Even though you and I are not together, I feel you with me, soothing me, steadying me. Truthfully, that helps calm me-and helps me to soothe the boys and try to keep us all focused. I hope you are happy. You’re my Best Friend. Love, John

Dear John,

I’m sure you are a great calming influence for the band. You are a stalwart trouper during tough times indeed!

Speaking of calming, your beautiful necklace has been soothing me as I try to move on from the failed love affair with my Bostonian. The line from Summer, Highland Falls sums it up: ‘How thoughtlessly we dissipate our energies. Perhaps we don’t fulfill each other’s fantasies. We are always what our situations hand us-it’s either sadness or euphoria.’ (4) It was a roller coaster of grand fun and tense irreconcilable disagreements. He was very inflexible, wanting everything on his terms. I realize everything was easy with you and me; there was a give and take.  Knowing you’re there for me – and that we share the same moon – helps.  Cheers and love, Y/N

*****

The boys were nursing warm drinks in a Munich bar, as John pulled the letter out of his jacket and scanned it again.  The boys eyed him, sensing relief that John found hard to cover.

“It’s OK to gloat, John.  Glad she dumped that selfish bloke,” Roger said. “You’ve been a trouper all these years, being a great friend to Y/N. It must be hard though.  I mean, you’ve always wanted more…”

Freddie put his beer down loudly on the table and took a commanding tone. “Enough with this letter-writing rubbish.  Now is your time, John!  Invite her to our upcoming Madison Square Garden show! YES!!! We’ll have your dressing room decorated with lights and big bouquets of fragrant flowers brought in from the nearby Flower District!  And Moet of course!” Fred’s words spilled out of him, as the images came into focus.

Roger jumped in. “We’ll arrange a limo to bring her to the show. She’ll be escorted to her front row seat-and then backstage after the show to meet you privately. Finally! You’ll tell her how you feel; ask her to move to London and….”

“Guys, wait, wait!” Brian said in a measured tone.  “This is John’s decision.  It’s a big step for him, and he…”

“Really, Dear,” Fred interrupted, trying to hold back an eye roll and a disdainful tone, “Must you be such a Dolly Downer?”  

John looked at his band mates warmly, touched that they clearly wanted what was best for him.  “Well, I do appreciate the premiere matchmaking services of Mercury-Taylor. And May is right, it’s a big step.” John hesitated. He felt he was on a precipice looking out into a sea mixed with excitement and anxiety, like waves gathering, crashing gently toward each other before rushing out at low tide. He added haltingly, “It…it may be too late.”

“Well, you won’t know unless you try.  It would be nice for you to share the same moon on the same continent,” Brian said with a wink to John.

John smiled as a lyric came to his mind, ‘You can't be everything you want to be before your time. Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight.’ (5)  “Maybe it’s my time. Our time,” he said, casting a smile at his friends.

“Wonderful! I’ll tell Miami the arrangements to be made!” Freddie said decisively.

******

Your office meeting stretched into the night, not an unusual occurrence, though the head of the firm addressing a small team of top-performing staff was unprecedented. “We have acquired a number of significant clients in London, and we will be expanding our office there.  If any of you are interested in a position, please let me know in the next two weeks.”  As the meeting ended, your colleague turned to you, “How about we let off some steam at the Palladium?” Sounded good to you. After the bouncer removed the velvet rope, you were welcomed to the club by pulsating music and lights thrown off a large disco ball hanging from the ceiling.  You entered the dance floor and started to move to the blaring beat, ‘Gimme gimme, gimme a man after midnight.’ (6) You realized it wasn’t any man you wanted. It was John.  Maybe you should take a position in London.  Maybe you and he….But you were getting ahead of yourself.  Tomorrow you’d have a front row seat at Queen’s Madison Square Garden concert and a private reunion with John afterwards. For now, as usual, you let the music envelop you and move through you, expressing your feelings.

*****

You were ready to go in a black leather miniskirt, white sleeveless tank top and your white go-go boots. Your nerves were making a cameo; as you clasped John’s necklace your fingers shook.  You entered the waiting limousine and stretched out in the back, enjoying the rare city view from a car.  It sure beat riding the subway.  Upon arrival at the VIP entrance, you were escorted to your seat.  Your stomach felt hollow, and you had to consciously remind yourself to breathe.  As you settled in, taking in the huge stage, thoughts coursed through you:  Here you were: sitting front row at Madison Square Garden, seeing Queen-a band you knew and truly admired, reuniting with John -- and hopefully clarifying your future.  You tried to push it all aside as the hot spotlights lit the stage, signaling the start of the show.

In the wing backstage, John shifted from foot to foot as he peered out onto the stage lit only by four glaring spotlights that cascaded over the smoke. He could already feel the heat from those lights, but he knew there was more to the warmth creeping through him: you were out there, and the two of you would be reunited soon. A smile bloomed across his face as he took in the roar of the crowd. ‘Suddenly I feel all right, and it's gonna be so different when I'm on the stage tonight. Tonight, the super trouper lights are gonna find me shining like the sun, smiling, having fun, feeling like a number one, Tonight the super trouper beams are gonna blind me, but I won't feel blue like I always do. 'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you.’(7)

Ratty gave the queue, and Freddie led the boys in a bounding stage entrance. John took his place behind Freddie’s piano. The powerful beams prevented him from seeing the fans, but he wasn’t blinded. He saw more clearly now than he ever had.

The show was magnificent, and after the encore, the boys met again in the stage wing, as the roadies handed them towels.  

“Your dressing room is ready!” Freddie reassured. “We snuck in a few candles, though we are violating New York City Fire Code,” he added with a wink, and glance at Roger, who tried unsuccessfully to conceal a laugh.  

Brian rolled his eyes and raised his hands dramatically in front of himself. “News Headline:  Queen burns up Madison Square Garden.  Literally.”

“For a good cause, though!” Roger defended.

“Thanks, Guys,”  John said softly, nodding to his best friends. “Wish me luck.”

John’s heart beat faster with each step down the long corridor.  As he opened the door he spotted you seated on a couch, and he gasped.  You stood, and he reached out his hand, which you took, as you swayed your hips slightly to release some nervous energy.  

“Y/N, I’d hug you but…I’m a sweaty mess,” John said, suddenly self-conscious. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You look gorgeous-you always did,” you said. “The show was fantastic!  And I love what you’ve done to the place,” you said coyly, gesturing around the romantically lit room, dotted with lush bouquets and a champagne bucket. “Who knew The Garden had such impeccable decorating taste?”

“It was Fred and Roger’s doing, actually,” He chuckled.  “Sit, sit.” He bent into the couch and still holding your hand, he eased you down with him.

You both started to speak at the same time:  “Y/N, I wanted to tell you that I….”   “John, my company has positions in the UK and I’m thinking of taking one….”

“Is that what you want? To return to London?” John asked, trying and failing to temper his excitement.

You stared at each other.  “If,” you said, gathering courage and then shaking your head to change the point. “It isn’t just work I want to return for…It’s…well, I know you probably have girls lining up, but I…”

“No.” John cut you off.  There’s never been anyone serious. There couldn’t be.  There’s only been you.  All these years.” He swallowed before continuing. “Tonight…the reason for all this, I was planning to tell you that I love you, always have, always will, and ask if you’d consider coming back to the UK.  Back home, to me….”

“Yes! A definite yes!”  You embraced with some distance between you, and John broke apart sporting a broad grin.  “Oh, Y/N!  I…. I need to shower and then we can continue our plans. I’m so happy!  And I need to tell the boys that their matchmaking efforts worked-and that as Brian said, we’ll be enjoying the moon together-from the same place.”

‘Whenever we’re together, that’s my home,’ (8) you said, letting your happy tears flow.

Song Notes

1.    If I Only Had the Words, Billy Joel

2.    Bohemian Rhapsody, Queen

3.    The Entertainer, Billy Joel

4.    Summer, Highland Falls, Billy Joel

5.    Vienna, Billy Joel

6.    Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (A Man after Midnight), ABBA

7.    Super Trouper, ABBA

8.    You’re My Home, Billy Joel

[j0hn-deacons-perm]

Bizarre Love Triangle

‘86 John x Reader, tail end of the Magic Tour. 

word count: ~3.7k

Based off Bizarre Love Triangle by New Order (I recommend listening to it while reading) also the song just slaps

Also a quick author’s note. Did I write this until about 6 AM because I couldn’t sleep? Yeah, my dudes. There might still be a few mistakes and will fix them when found but hey, I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

Last show. The bloody last show of this summer. Tour life has been nothing but stressful but to your surprise, even more rewarding simply with the audience reception. Every show packed with fans, many singing and bopping about like you were on the side lines. Despite being there for nearly every show, the anticipation never ceases to creep up on you. Shivers can be felt in your bones, ready for whatever is to come and you're not even the one on stage in half an hour. 

Standing and grabbing drinks, you sit next to John. His knee bouncing as he reads the paper, spotting he's on the current events. Sighing gently, you roam your eyes around the space around you. Brian is tuning his guitar with Fred and Roger sitting next to him. You spot a scrabble board on the table and Roger looking frustrated as he picks letters from the box's top. Most people on your team are racing around, making sure everything is where it should be and in working order. Hearing a sound from John, you look over and watch him skip over the obituaries. However, seeing a name that surely sounds phallic encites a laugh on your end. He raises an eyebrow in your direction.

"Dark comedy your thing, eh?"

"More like potty humor. I see a name like Medick and it's reflex to chuckle."

He scans the page and you laugh again.

"Damn it John, you're looking at Medick."

You determine the laugh he gives you is one out of pity with how bad your Scottish accent was. After apologizing for assaulting his senses, he gives you a smile and asks the time. Looking at your watch, your co-worker announced to everyone the fifteen minute mark before they were expected on stage.

"I hope that answers your question."

His eyes crinkle around the corners and your heart melts at the sight. Answering you with "It does, yeah", he folds the paper up and places it on the empty seat next to him. Attention now on you.

"Any plans post tour Y/N?"

"Besides catch up on nearly a month of lost sleep and time with Tom, probably nothing for a few days. At least that's the hope."

You can see his face shift into a slight discomfort but it might be out of reflex. Two weeks in you began missing your boyfriend back home and requested no one bring him up in conversation, even yourself. Knowing you slipping his name must have been reflex for him. Right?

"Can't imagine what you'd be losing sleep over besides trying to keep track of four old ladies."

"You guys are a lot. Especially you, Deacon. I swear sometimes it's easier looking after a toddler."

He fakes hurt, hand on his chest and a pronounced distressed face paints his features. The rest of the time passes far too quickly for your liking as the boys are rushed off to play their show. You follow behind, overseeing things go smoothy. Grabbing things they may need between songs and making your way off to the side, you nearly jump as the rise in audience volume increases. The floor beneath you shaking as the first few notes play. Hearing the opening lines to One Vision, you calculate the time to sing along but with the lyrics you happened to hear when bringing them their copious amounts of coffee into the recording room. What you didn't expect is John looking over to see you sing 'one dump, one turd, two tits, John Deacon' followed by 'chicken feet, babe' in his direction. You can see him smile when he looks down at his bass.

As the songs pass, your dancing picks up as well as his. You thought John was called Disco Deacy due to his taste in tunes but turns out he's a regular Belle of the ball. His spins and hops always melted your heart, watching him enjoy the music and play. You bop along with him more often than not, enjoying the beats you've heard now countless amounts of times. When I Want To Break Free ends and Brian's solo begins, he heads over in your direction. Grabbing a towel and a vodka tonic, he pats himself dry while watching from your usual view.

"I swear, this solos get longer with every tour."

"And I swear your hair gets bigger with every tour."

"Optical illusion, my dear. Brian's been getting smaller."

He winks and finishes off his drink. His company is gone as quick as it came, or at least it feels that way. The last half of the show plays out along with two encores. Fatigue dampens down on everyone as the crowd starts to disperse and the roadies begin taking apart set ups. Walking back with the boys, you hand them their normal robes and towels as they head to the dressing room. Making your way back to your post and sitting down, the realization of this is the end dawns on you. A month of tours finished. A month of pain, suffering, blood, sweat, and many tears but also a month of pure bliss. A month of becoming even closer with the band that you've come to know the much more this past year. Seeing them outside of the studio was a shock at first but tour life seems to mellow them out in ways. Less ego if that was even possible knowing them in the first place.

Knowing you probably should attend the after party the hotel Freddie booked, your feet ache as you rise up. Feeling the ripe ol' age of 87 at 29 is a sensation you've grown used to but hearing your joints crack as you rise really made you feel ancient.

"Here I thought I was the old one. I heard that all the way over here!"

John laughs at your cracky joints, walking over to give you an arm to support you. A bird is flipped in his direction and he smiles wider. You can tell someone's got more alcohol in their system.

"Now, Y/N, you ready for one last hurrah before a hangover and drive back home?"

"You're speaking my language, Deacy. I'll meet you at the ballroom, okay? Not really digging the uniform look at the minute, you know?"

"Don't be too late, I might be a goner by the time you arrive."

Following his lead to the bus, you and the rest of the group pile in. John walking up the steps in front of you gave you a view you didn't expect to enjoy so much. Those pants really doing him some favors. Shaking your head, you walk the few steps up and look around for a seat. Taking the only empty one next to Freddie, you lean over to congratulate a job well done and yet another successful tour on their end. Feeling eyes on you, a look over shows a poofy haired bassist waving at you once he has your attention. Waving back and turning back to Freddie, you can tell he has a question burning his tongue.

"You and John sure have gotten close over this tour."

"I guess so, yeah."

"Playing favorites? I see how it is, dear."

You slap his shouder with a 'piss off' and a cackle on his end.

"Are you still mad about the scrabble match the other week, Fred? Don't break up the Y/LN and Deacon dream team."

The last night in France ended with drama and an almost scratched cornea as scrabble pieces went flying. Deciding since Jim was present that night, even teams could be made. Brian and Roger, Fred and Jim, then you and John teamed up and no one's surprise, Freddie's normal strategy of adding one tile to make a bigger word didn't work out in his favor. What did come as a surprise was Brian and Roger not taking the win that night. Tempers flared as you and John danced about. When turned, you couldn't see the rogue piece flying your way. Luckily you blinked in time to save you from a more serious injury. 

"Please, I'm not mad over a silly fucking game."

"Yeah, one that nearly took out my eye!"

He rolled his eyes but smiled regardless of what he's trying to front. Pulling up to the hotel, you grab your luggage and is soon presented the key to your room. Not wanting to deal with an overly drunk John Deacon, you slightly rush to get ready. After party outfits normally consisted of a tank top, shorts and sneakers but considering it's the last one, you go more formal. Feeling very gussied up in heels you never thought you would wear at all this tour and a dress, you turn to the bathroom with your makeup bag is tow. What you already had on was fine but needed a touch up. Looking over your appearance and adjusting oddly fitting sections, you deem yourself offically ready. However feeling slightly over dressed and maybe showing more than what you're used to but hell, it's August. Realizing that it wasn't too late to call Tom, you dial the number that's branded in your brain at this point and wait for the phone to pick up. 

"Hello?"

He sounds slightly tired but the call was quick so you didn't feel too bad about it.

"Hey, just wanted to call and say I'll be home in the next couple days!"

"Oh shit, that time already? I've already got so used to you being gone!"

You couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"We're throwing one last bash before this ends for good. Freddie's doing of course."

"Well don't let me stop you, go and have fun!"

"Love ya, Tom."

"Love ya too, Y/N."

Hanging up and taking a breath, your chest feels odd. Putting it up to just this being nearly over, you stuff your keycard in your bra, spray on one more mist of perfume. The feeling in your chest worsens as you walk into the ballroom crowded with people, nearly completely naked women servers and the sight of John sitting back and flirting with one of them while talking with Brian. Grabbing one off the nearest tray, you down it then grab another immediately. Shaking your head and walking over to the two men in question, they greet you with side hugs. 

"Where are the other two?"

"Around somewhere."

"You know I'll hear it from both of them if I don't come say hi during the party."

Brian smiles, knowing far too well how they get with you at times. 

"Regardless, cheers! Cheers to a successful tour and good friends!"

You three clink your glasses together and conversation flows. Brian talks about his plans when arriving home to the wife and kids along with possibly making plans with some actress he's a fan of. Spacing out and looking at your surroundings, the music is pulsing through your lungs with the bass pumping through the speakers. You recognize the song easily, Blue Monday filling your ears and the bass matches your heartbeat once you turn back to your friends and hear John conversing with one of the women attending the party. Watching him shift so she can sit next to him, her body pressing against his while he whispers in her ear, you're in need of a change of scenery. You finally figured out what the sinking feeling in your chest was.

"Hey Bri, care you dance?"

"Not really. Not really my kind of music, Y/N."

"Please?"

Batting your eyelashes in hopes of hiding how uncomfortable you are, it fails and he picks up on your body language. 

"I guess you caught me in a good mood."

Sitting up, you two walk over to the other dancing party goers and while stiff as a board, Brian tries to do something with his body.

"Is everything okay? You seemed a bit off when you came in but now I know something's up. Did you call Tom?"

"How dare you say his name?!"

"Figured it'd be safe when you see him in, what, two days?"

"I'm taking the piss and I did. He seems happy to have me back but I think something's happened."

"He's not cheating on you, is he?!"

"Oh god no! I.....I think I've developed feelings for John."

You're pretty sure if he had a drink in his hand, it would've crashed all over the floor. 

"Want to head somewhere else and talk about it?"

"Please."

Taking your arm and leading you through the crowd, Brian leads you two outside. A handful of people occupy the space but mostly to get a smoke in quick before heading back in. Spacing yourself away from the others as far as possible, you and Brian sit on one of the benches. Your breathing is unsteady and worsens as you try to calm it down. He puts a hand on your knee and rubs gentle circles in hopes of doing something for your nerves.

"I'm not going to lie, Y/N, can't say I didn't exactly see it coming."

"Gee, thanks Bri. Exactly what I want to hear."

"Is this a recent development?"

Thinking back, it started in the studio. It was around the time they started recording the album and you started just watching them play behind the producer. Wasn't until you watched John lick his fingers before playing the strings on his bass again where something flickered in you.

"....Shit."

That was almost a year ago. 

"Well, around the time you guys started recording the new album."

His eyes widened. Blinking slightly resembling that of a reptile in its speed.

"Your 'shit' is valid."

"I know! The more time I spend with him, the more I realize I really care for the guy. But I can't just up and leave Tom. I can't just...hurt him like that. He doesn't deserve it in the slightest."

You sigh, feeling tears wanting to trickle out of your eyes any second.

"But I've been finding my feelings for him fading the more I'm with John. What if I leave Tom, then what? Just go up to John and be like 'oh hey, I have some strong feelings for you. Wanna do something?'"

Brian wraps a curl around his finger, pulling as he thinks. He lets out a sigh of his own.

"Honestly, I'm going through the same thing right now with Chrissie. That actress, Anita...we've been talking and I've developed some feelings for her. Ones I haven't had with Chrissie in a while, now. I have a wife and kids but should I persue this?"

You give him a sympathetic look.

"We're fucked, aren't we?"

"Maybe a little bit. But at least you're not married."

You look at each other in solidarity. Knowing each other's struggles far too well. He brings up the fair point that you aren't married. You also think back to how things were before you left for tour and it wasn't the best. You missed Tom, you really did. But was the passion there like it was previously? Not especially. Sometimes it just felt more like a friends with benefits situation rather than a full blown relationship lasting three years. 

"You know what? I'm going for it."

"Positive, love?"

"I think so." 

Sitting up and brushing off your dress, Brian stands with you.

"I think I might have a talk with Anita and go from there on how to do this. Chrissie doesn't deserve being left for another woman but sometimes people outgrow each other. Relationships evolves and sometimes they become stagnant."

Walking back to your previous place inside, you're greeted with the sight of the woman gone and replaced with Freddie and Roger. Bending down and asking a quick 'Can we talk?' to John, you two head over to the hallway. You're shaking and can't look him in the eye. Trying to get your sights on him, he lifts a hand to your chin, using a few fingers to guide your sights towards him.

"You're scaring me a bit. Did something happen, love?"

There is not enough alcohol in your system to make this easier.

"I was talking with Brian and came to some conclusions that have been....cloudy for a little while now."

His eyebrows are furrowed together in concern, he's never seen you like this. Nervous was normal in aspects of your job but like this is completely uncharted territory for him. Not knowing how to tread the waters, he takes the hand that was on your chin and rubs your upper arm. 

"You can talk to me. You know that, right?"

You swallow, feeling like you're nearly choking on air. 

"John I...god..."

Before you could mutter even something resembling a syllable, you hear John's name being called. Turning your head slightly to see it's the woman he was flirting with earlier, danging her bag in front of her.

"Finally remembered where I put the damned thing. You ready to go, Johnny?"

You want to vomit on the spot but knowing if you would, it would be Exorcist levels in the amount purged. Your eyes threaten to release the waterworks and you look up to put the tears back in their place. Beginning to walk away, you feel a grip on your shoulder.

"Sorry but my friend here is going through something. Raincheck, yeah?"

Obviously very annoyed, her eye roll was puntuated with her heels clicking away. He looks over at you and immediately notices tears running down your cheeks. Wiping them away, he leads you out of this area of the hotel and back to his room. Turning the key, your heart beats to the point where it leaves you breathless. He leads you inside and onto the bed but before you get to talk, he doesn't sit quite yet. Grabbing the unwrapped toilet paper roll from the bathroom, he hands it to you then sits down at your side. 

"What's going on, Y/N?"

As he rubs your arm again like he did in the hallway, your brain struggles but comes up with some sort of coherent sentence to present.

"I think Tom and I might be over."

He blinks at you, much in the same fashion as Brian had. But before you knew it, he wrapped you in a hug. His head on your shoulders and hand smoothing over your back. He says your name softly followed by an 'I'm so sorry'. Staying like until the tears stop flowing, he peels away from you. You wipe away your tears, noticing your mascara has somehow held up. 

"I...I don't mean to pry but, well, what happened?"

The question you were dreading but this band-aid needs to be ripped off.

"I realized we've sort of...grown apart. Also..damn, not again.." as you rip off a piece of toilet paper and dab your eyes. Catching your breath took a minute but you finally get their in due time. With a sigh, you finally let it out.

"I've developed feelings for another person."

Watching him with blurry eyes didn't give you the opportunity to see his shoulders drop slightly or lips tighten.

"They're incredibly lucky to have caught your attention, Y/N."

"I think I'm lucky to have met them is a better statement. He's really great."

You sigh again and finally clear your vision. His expression is hard to read. Almost, seeming disappointed but that's probably your imagination trying to cope with rejection. Rejection that hasn't happened yet.

"I'm sure he is."

He moves away from you and grabs the television remote, flipping through channels until one catches his eye. Sitting back beside you, he looks back at you.

"Sorry, felt like background noise might've been welcome."

"Maybe a bit, yeah. Do you want to hear about him?"

"Am I going to have a choice in the matter? You're destined to bring him up."

"Guess you're right. But you're...already quite familiar with him already."

"It's not Brian, is it? I know you two talk or maybe.." This time putting in air quotes around "Talk". 

This time it's your turn to be stunned.

"No! I asked him advice about this guy. So, well...he's a bass player for a pretty well known group, I'm a pretty big fan of his work and writes some absolutely amazing tracks. Some may say he's had some questionable hair choices but I'm a big fan. Also he has these...gorgeous green eyes."

"Is it Paul McCartney?! I know you met him during Live Aid but damn, Y/N. Linda would kick your ass."

"It's not Paul McCartney you dumbass!"

A laugh erupts from you, making him laugh along with you. He dodges the slap on his arm but moving up the bed, sitting up against the headboard. You mirror him, eyes on the television screen. A comfortable silence washes over the room, the soft hum of the air conditioner adds background noise with the show playing before you. Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes turn into almost an hour of contemplation. Should you say something? You've grown close to him this past year, even closer this past month. He's one of your few confidants, a dear source of comfort. Possibly never seeing his smile again gives you literal heartbreak. But what if the risk is worth the reward? What if he views you in that way as well and you're just overreacting? Doubtful but not completely out of the realm of possibility.

It's when it turns into an hour and fifteen minutes when John starts yawning. If you wait, you'll never do it. You'll lose all nerve. You mutter a 'fuck it' under your breath.

"It's you."

He slowly turns his head in your direction. 

"What was that? I was zoned out for a while, there."

"The guy I was talking about....it's, well...."

You can do this, you just did it. Come on.

"It's you, John Richard Deacon."

You've never seen someone's eyes go that big in your life. His jaw goes slightly slack as he just looks at you. You see his eyes dart around every point on your face. Before you can even start registering what's happening, His lips assault you. Kisses on your forehead, kisses on your nose, kisses on your cheeks, kisses on your jaw but finally he reaches your lips. One hand laces its fingers in your hair, the other placed just below your jaw. Your breath is completely and utterly taken away and when he pulls away, lips swollen, your chest fills. What fills your heart to capacity is him whispering.

"I've been waiting, Y/N....I've been waiting for that moment when you say the words I couldn't say."

~~~~~~~~~~

May formatting it to be tumblr friendly to read pay off and if you read this, you are a sweet cherub angel and I love you a little bit. Also damn, my first fic published on Tumblr, they grow up so fast. 

[magickcandie]

Queen with Reader

With Brian May x Reader undertones

Christmas with Queen!

You had gone through university with Brian, Roger and Freddie as you were also working towards an art major. Once they became Queen and added John Deacon, the five of you had become inseperateable. You were always around them.

You had known that when the holidays were coming around, Freddie would insist on doing something very big. It was only natural of them. However you insisted on bringing your own decorations to help decorate the studio.

John and yourself were always dancing to Christmas music or singing along to whatever you could play on piano. Freddie didn't want let anyone help with the decorations.

"I have a vision, my dear, and frankly, you'll only get in the way. I hope you understand."

"Come on, it's Christmas," you whined back at him.

"Oh fine."

You clapped your hands and grabbed a piece of garland to start adding to the window ledges.

“I can’t reach!” You shouted, standing in your toes.

“Even Roger can reach!” Freddie teased.

“Hey!”

“You know, standing there and gawking won’t help the decorations go up.”

“I’ll go find a ladder. Or a stool.” Said John, setting down his own piece of tinsel.

You dismissed his intentions. “Eh, it doesn’t matter. Rog, come here.” You waved him over.

You looked up to gage the distance then positioned Roger by the wall. Then you walked behind him and jumped on his back.

“What are you doing!” He laughed.

“Stand still!” You strung the garland to the wall just before letting go and jumping off Roger.

Freddie looked between you two. “My darling, Y/N, I love you, but you’re not clambering onto my shoulders."

You and Roger exchange glances. You two matched the same glances and immediately you both run at Freddie. He attempts to hold him still while you start to climb on his back.

Brian was brooding the whole time. For no reason really. He had expressed his feelings towards helping, but he found many an excuse to whine and read elsewhere.

That went on until entire studio had been decorated with tinsel and ribbon, garlands just about on every wall, and there was mistletoe hanging by the front door.

"I get the star! It's my tree." You laughed as everyone went digging through the box.

Brian was content to sit read the newspaper, now joining everyone in the main room.

You had stood on your toes, reaching up to attach the star. That's when you heard a snicker. You dropped a hand to your hip and looked over your shoulder to scowl.

"Are you just gonna laugh at me?"

Brian looked up at you, laughing aloud this time. You crossed your arms.

"Would help me?"

"No, no, why don't you ask John. He's just about as tall as me." Brian said.

"Are you really being angry with me because I didn't ask you for help? Please?" Brian and you held eye contact. "Please," you tried again.

Brian stood up, coming up behind you to hoist you from the waist, seemingly stronger than he seemed.

You placed the star on and Brian set you down. Freddie clapped. John went around to shut off the lights, Roger to plug in the tree.

"Merry Christmas, you jerk," you said to Brian with a smile.

"Happy Christmas to you too, Y/N." He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and placed a kiss on your cheek.

You were going to enjoy the holidays, you decided.

[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.”