#i tried making brians one eye reflective but idk if i got it right
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Don't mind me but I'm rambling. I'm gonna yell about this here cuz it is my fandom blog and that's what it's for.
Man, The Boys is the perfect example of seeing a comic, seeing the potential, and gutting it for something better. I used to be a fan of Garth Ennis, I used to say he was the kind of writer that could balance edgy in a fun way that wasn't too much, but after revisiting his work I'm like....very unimpressed. And I feel as he keeps releasing series they keep getting worse 😬 I can't say this on FB because some of my male friends hold it in high regards(lots of them read it as angry edgy teens) but Preacher? Kinda a super shit comic. I genuinely think the show was attempting something better by polishing up the core concept (also the casting? Chefs kiss). I liked The Boys. I own The Boys. But the show is a fantastic example of how a comic adaptation does not need to be faithful. I think they made the characters a lot more engaging, they kept the graphic violence but I'm not rolling my eyes at it, and made the overall plot more of an arc versus the previous baddie hero of the week style that made it feel disjointed. And it's nice not to be able to expect what is going to happen next, not like how some shows throw it in a new direction solely to fuck with you versus genuinely interesting. They still sprinkle tons of comic stuff nicely in the show (my friend and I screamed at love sausage). I think the timing of the show is excellent in both that there is a corporate superhero burnout with so many movies and shows being churned out (often playing it too safe where money > interesting) and also reflecting irl events in an eerie but clever way. The whole comic and show is assholes, and I'm thrilled to love to hate them. I couldn't even do much of a reread because it's just not that good to me anymore. Absolutely crazy that Seth Rogan and Evan Goldberg read those two comics by Ennis and were like yeah, let's do this.
I feel the same way about Mark Millar though. I cannot stand his comics, I feel like he's pretty good with coming up with a concept but someone always executes it better on his behalf. Kingsman? Kick ass? Wanted? All superior to the comics. I think red son and jupiter's legacy are ones I did like, but I am very interested to see how netflix (?) Does jupiter's legacy in the wake of the boys. Not quite the same, but an edgy superhero series I highly expect people to make a comparison. It's about children of superheros that are struggling to live in their shadows. Drugs, sex, violence, drama.
On the other hand, I am screaming about the Invincible adaptation. IM SO FUCKING EXCITED. Invincible is in my top favorite comics, it got me INTO comics, and I always thought it was vastly superior to Kirkmans famous work Walking Dead. This I do hope sticks close to the comics (though maybe slightly better writing for women characters haha). I already know exactly what they're doing for the first arc and I really really hope we can get further than that because the series gets so fucking WILD. Insane all of the merch and now a show we are getting after the series ends. It's also super long for a western comic series at like 26 trades I think. I hope the show is a success for multiple reasons.
With the old guards success, I hope amazon finally does something with the rights they bought to Lazarus a few years ago. Greg Rucka is truly one of the best comic writers out there and that series is perfect for tv. Which reminds me I need to watch stumptown cuz I just bought the comic to reread and it's so good!!!!
And y the last man finally has its feet on the ground after being in development hell for like 10 years. Brian k vaughn writes the most human characters out there. And also paper girls is gonna be a series!!!! Fucking hell yeah!!! Hopefully it catches people attention as stranger things did. It's gonna be fun. And I hope saga never gets adapted. I truly think nothing will be able to capture it. Leave it as is.
And I'm still sad Chew ended up falling into development hell. Originally showtime wanted to use to to replace Dexter as that ended as their new bloody crime show, then it fell to an animated series which is better imo to pair with how weird it is and showcase the art style but I think the last I heard of it it was pretty much not happening. Especially since iZombie got surprising amount of traction and I guess they expected it to be too similar.
I'm also still bitter about Deadly Class's cancellation. I had a lot of potential. Great cast, good cinematography. It's such a fun tragic comic.
Locke&key was alright, it's such a good horror comic but I wouldn't be able to tell you what would have made the show better. Something didn't quite click for me.
I'm kinda really burnt out on marvel/dc. I don't think either is impressing me lately besides scattered things. I don't think I'm excited for any of the disney+ shows besides falcon+winter soldier and even then expectations are tentatively low. Maybe wandavision? I didn't give a shit about them in the movies but it's heavily based on a run of comics I did enjoy so I'm wary. I know only care about Hawkeye for Kate and she-hulk for the actress. Though I've been having a surprising amount of fun watching Doom Patrol and I enjoyed swamp thing. It's weird. It embraces that weird. There's something I feel like Umbrella Academy is missing it could learn from doom Patrol. Like ua still feels like it played it a bit safe. Idk. Haven't finished it because I'm not as motivated to.
And Faith?? Is gonna get a movie??? A plus size hero??? AHHHH. I have my first issue signed by the author I met at comic con a few years ago.
And watchmen of course.
And outcast, and happy, and powers! And I kill giants was turned into such a good movie!!! So many image comics!!
I just read nailbiter is gonna be a series so that's gonna be bloody and violent and full of serial killers lmao. The ending of that comic got a little ??? For me but I own the whole series so i guess that says something.
What a time to be a comics fan!!! We are so fucking spoiled lmao and there's still sooo many untapped series. I think Criminal would make a fantastic live action drama show. Who does like Intricate crimes and heists and overlapping stories And wic+div would make a stellar show especially if they really had fun with the music. And so many comics I like would make amazing animated series like pretty deadly, or chew, rocket girl. Haunt is another Kirkmans series that has potential to be a fun gritty superhero violent adaptation. Except the ectoplasma attacks haunt has looks like violent jizz sometimes. Idk. Like, URGHHHHHHH. Gimme gimme gimme more comic stuff.
And there's so many good things I'm not even aware it was a comic initially.
And there's so many things I hear good things I have yet to touch like black lightning, runaways ( I love the comics!!, Cloak and dagger (also great comics )
Old comic shit is good too. I've been rewatching the Spawn series. Adult animated superhero stuff is seriously underrated. The tank girl movie is FUN. ROCKETEEEEER!!!!! Disney was supposed to do a remake with a black girl. What happened to that?
I dislike all the cw shows though lmao too cheesy. Also why I can't get into agents of shield though I tried for Robbie.
So many THINGS
#hey i am a huge image fangirl if i havent screamed about that enough yet#ive been feeling emotional over comics#ever since invincible dropped the teaser#like legit tears smh#tumblr chabged how you do readmores i guess#i tried tk hide this so sorry if youre scrolling oast#i just#fuckjng love comics you guys
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Bucket List || chapter 6
Pairing: Roger x Reader
Summary: Roger and Reader are good friends but for roger, it is becoming much more than a friendship. He tries to ignore his feelings but the heart wants what it wants.
chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5
Warnings (per chapter): mention/experience of a mild panic attack, shitty writing? smut, and unprotected sex (So some parts are 18+), lots of cursing. Explicit or triggering scenes are marked as following: [!!!] = beginning [!] = end.
Word count (per chapter): 5k
A/N: I hope this doesn't suck. Because I kinda feel like it does. Please let me know your thoughts! (If you want me to continue with this because idk, I rather write one-shots. I’m too unstable for this sometimes?)
Chapter 6 ‘The One Where Some People Find Out’
“Oh...my...god. I WAS RIGHT!” Emily almost screamed.
You both flinched, and you almost fell onto the ground. Suddenly not having Rogers’ arms holding you.
It was awfully silent for what felt like an eternity before spoke up: “I-it’s not what you thin-” Roger stammered.
“No, uhm, Em-” you began
“Shut up! Both of you! Don’t even try to talk around this.” Emily interrupted. “I fucking witnessed you kissing! And don’t go telling me it’s just a friends thing because ‘friends’ don’t do that!” She said, making air quotes with her fingers.
You gulped as you shared a look with Roger.
“Why are you two being so secretive about this anyways? It’s not like someone’s gonna murder you. To be honest it was quite inevitable.” She said. “Well? Are you two gonna say anything or what?”
“I- Uhm. Well- “ you stammered.
“Use your words, sweetie.” She coed and you shot her an angry look.
“Just don’t tell the guys okay?” Roger suddenly said. “Not yet.”
“Why not?” She said, frowning her brows.
“Just...don’t.”
"Okay? Fine! You guys are no fun!" Emily said before, much to your relief --- and surprise, she proceeded to walk away. As she walked past you she softly whispered in your ear that she thought it was very cute.
When you were alone again (well not alone, you're in a museum so��) things felt very awkward, to say the least. Your heart was pounding in your chest.
It’s just your best friend you told yourself, but still, you felt like you’d been caught doing something really bad.
[!!!]
You were definitely overreacting. And you tried to calm yourself down, by focussing on your breathing. But it didn’t seem to help. It was like you were paralyzed. Like someone had pushed a button in you.
“Hey, hey are you okay love?” Roger said, concern in his voice.
“I’m fine!” You said in a higher-pitched voice than normal. That wasn’t convincing.
“No, you’re not! I can see it in your eyes and you’re breathing like you just finished running a marathon!” He said, but that wasn’t helping at all.
In an instant, you felt his hand grabbing yours and then he was dragging you through the museum. Trying to get you outside to a less crowded spot. And you ended up in an empty corner near the staircase.
Roger grabbed both your hands and looked into your eyes intensely, trying to get your attention.
“You need to breathe okay? Don’t want you to faint again.” He said.
You nodded and he started giving you orders “So inhale….aaaand exhale for me, okay love?” he said, moving his hands and yours up and down. You did that for some time until you were calm again.
[!]
“What was that?” He said, lightly squeezing your hands, still a concerned look on his face.
“I-I don’t know.” You stammered. “I really don’t know. I-I snapped. I mean it’s just Em. I don’t know why.” You said in a fragile voice.
“It’s okay.” He said, pulling you in for a hug. Your mouth lightly pressed into his shoulder and you could smell his cologne. The smell was pleasant, calming.
“Why didn’t we want to tell the others again?” You suddenly murmured.
“Because we weren’t sure what this was/is.” He said.
“Oh, yeah, right.”
“And how long has it been? A week? Probably less.” He added.
“I think so.” You mumbled.
“And you wanted to take things slow. Remember? Not that we’ve been particularly successful at that.” He chuckled and you felt the vibrations of his voice against your chest. This was nice.
“You feel better love?”
“I think so.” You said, and you lifted your head up. “Please don’t tell Emily about this. I really don’t know why I freaked out. Also after? What is that? And I’m sorry you still always end up needing to help me.“ You rambled. “Sorry...I...make no sense.” You said softly, shaking your head.
“It’s okay sweetheart.‘You wanna go back?”
“Yeah,” you nodded.
So you ended up going back to looking at all the art, and you didn’t dare to kiss Roger in public for the rest of the day.
After you were done you ate in the park that surrounded the museum. And now everyone was sitting very close to each other, chatting about the day thus far. Brian, Roger and Freddie were discussing god knows what; Emily had settled on laying on Deaky’s lap --- It had surprised you how easy Emily had integrated into the group. She got along very well with the boys. Especially John for some reason. Mary was leaning on her hands with her eyes closed, enjoying the sun; and you were sitting next to Roggie boy while he talked to his bandmates, subtly holding your hand. He turned his attention to you when you suddenly released his hand.
“What ‘you gonna do?” He asked.
“Grab my camera. This looks so cozy and cute.” You smiled.
So you grabbed your camera out of your bag and pushed against the little lever with your thumb. You took some pictures of the lot, smiling behind your camera. They looked lovely with their colorful summery clothes and a smile on their faces.
The rest of the day you spend walking through the city and you ended up in a shop which sold the most beautiful clothing. Way too expensive. There was absolutely no way you were able to afford it, but you could always try things on, just for fun.
The guys were happy that there was a big leather couch in the shop where they could sit since...well you were most likely going to spend quite some time trying on all the stuff. It was a rather tiny couch, but that didn’t seem to be an issue for them. It always surprised you how little they cared about their personal space. So now they were basically sitting on each other chatting about some new song ideas, because why not?
You walked out almost simultaneously, and the boys fell silent.
“You look lovely darlings!” Freddie cheered, seemingly mesmerized by the beautiful clothing pieces.
When you met Rogers' gaze you saw his mouth curl up into the cutest smile and he couldn’t help but bite his lip a little.
“Yes, you lady's indeed look stunning,” Brian said.
“Too bad we can’t afford it.” Emily laughed.
You walked a bit closer to Roger --- who was sitting in a corner of the couch --- while the other two girls were talking to his mates.
“You look beautiful.” He said softly, eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you. And he softly brushed a hand over your hip. You smiled.
“Thank you,” you said, almost inaudible. And briefly, it felt like you two were in your own little bubble. And it felt great.
A few minutes and some dresses later you decided to leave the store because the owner didn’t seem very pleased with you trying everything on and buying nothing.
When the rest was almost ready to leave you were still in the dressing room. You were never the fastest. And when no one saw Roger sneaked into the little dressing room, making you yelp and place your hands over your body in an attempt to cover up. Roger was quick to place his hand over your mouth to silence you.
“Yeeez Roger! Don’t scare me like that.” You said when he removed his palm.
“That first dress is so beautiful, you have to get it.” He blurted out.
It was indeed a stunning dress. It looked classy, but also fun and youth-like with the golden star appliques on the see-through tule. It really was gorgeous.
“Rog it’s too expensive.” You said and you couldn’t help but feel a little exposed, standing just there in your underwear.
“I didn’t say you have to pay for it.”
“You want me to steal it?!”
“No! Well, that’s probably another thing checked off your list.” He smirked.
“I’m not sure that's something I want to check off Rog,” you said and he snickered.
“But...what I wanted to say-” he continued. “-is that the band isn’t doing too shabby. You should know that! You work at a record shop for fuck's sake.”
“Yes? So?”
“Well, I can buy it for you if you want to?”
“You would do that for me?”
“I love how it looks on you.” He said. “Can you put it on again?”
“Uh...yeah.” You replied, turning to grab it from the clothes hanger.
“Can you close it?” You said when you had put it on, speaking over your shoulder and he gladly helped. Roger gently pushed against your lower back as he pulled the zipper up in one fluent motion. And lastly, he closed the little button that held the upper back piece together.
When you looked up you met rogers gaze in the reflecting surface. “it’s beautiful. Stunning.” He said, wrapping his arms around your waist and his warm hands came to rest on your belly. “You look...hot.” He said in awe. The last bit came out as a whisper, activating some sort of ripple effect in your body.
“Fuck I could take you right now,” he muttered, mesmerized by the view in the mirror. And his hands started to make their way down to your---
“Mr. Taylor! Excuse me?!” You said. In a flash you turned around again, eyes widening, jaw dropping a few centimeters.
“Sorry,” he chuckled rubbing a hand over his neck.
“You are unbelievable!” You smirked.
But still, you forcefully grabbed his face and gave him a bruising kiss. And you briefly let your hand slide down to his crotch, palming him through his pants. It was funny to you how startled he looked when you pulled away. It was very cute.
You pridefully smirked at your achievement.
“Hey, now you’re here. Could you help me take this off again?” You asked as you turned around again. Fully aware of what you just did to him.
“Oh, you are in for it Miss!” He growled as he started to fumble with the top button. But he couldn’t suppress a soft gasp from escaping his lips when the fabric fell off your shoulders to expose more of your back.
The harshness of a second ago quickly faded away.
He gently let a hand run over your back. “Shit, you’re so beautiful.” he sighed and he proceeded to place butterfly kisses on your shoulder and neck. You closed your eyes and let your head fall to the side, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips devouring your skin.
Roger lightly pressed his hips into your ass as he continued to place sloppy kisses on your body. And his hands started wandering again, sneakily moving lower and lower.
“Rog!” you warned.
“Hmmm,” he hummed against your neck.
“Rog, we’re in a changing room!” You chuckled. “Besides, I need to get dressed again because the rest of the group is waiting….I’m sure they’re already of suspicious us.”
“Fuck that! Emily already knows. I don’t care. You look too good.” He said, and you felt his hand slipping under the fabric of the dress.
“Rog, fuck. Please!” you groaned, feeling his hand moving up to your inner thigh.
“Y/n! We’re leaving!” You heard Emily shout from across the store. Earning herself an angry look from the shop owner.
“Shit!”
“Fuck,”
You flinched away from each other. And just like that, your little bubble burst.
“Uhm, could you excuse me?” You said, making a ‘go away’ motion with your hand.
Roger awkwardly nodded and turned his back on you.
So with lust and adrenaline rushing through your body, you got changed into your own clothes again and walked out of the dressing room.
Roger was still standing outside the stall when you got out, an expecting look on his face.
“So? Do you want it?”
“Yes?”
“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”
“It’s so beautiful a-and I love it, but it’s so expensive and I don’t want to use you like that.”
“Y/n, I told you I wanted to pay fo-”
“I’ll pay half okay?”
“If you insist.”
“Deal?”
“Yeah, sure.” He said, dragging his words.
“Thank you so much!” You cheered, reaching out your hands to grab his face and kiss him. But you quickly retracted, realizing the others were still there.
This was hard.
---
“So? You bought that starry dress huh?” Emily said.
You were back at the house, now sitting in the kitchen together with a big bowl of fresh peaches in front of you. You had picked them up along the way home.
“Yes,” you shortly answered. “These things are good!”
“Shit, I’m making a mess!” You laughed. The sweet juice started to drip down your chin.
“Yeah, we probably look disgusting.” Emily joined in. “Maybe we should bring the others some too? Join us in being disgusting fruit monsters.”
“No way! These are way too good!” You snickered, a sarcastic undertone in your voice. “No okay we should, shouldn’t we? Kinda unfair to eat them all. And besides, I think my stomach is gonna protest if I do that.” you giggled.
You ended up going into the garden, sharing the rest of the peaches and you and the lot got lost in some intense rounds of scrabble.
---
The sun was steadily making its way down as you got ready to take a shower. You always found it a nice way to wind down, calm your nerves, reflect on the day.
You were about to take off your dress when you heard footsteps outside the door. And since that damn bathroom didn't have a lock you just proceeded to yell ‘Taken!’. Not really in the mood to have someone walk in on you again.
Although now you wouldn't really mind Roger walking in on you.
You heard a knock on the door. "Can I come in?" you heard a soft voice say, it was Roger. And you answered with a hesitant yes.
“Hey,” Roger said softly, peeking his head through the door opening.
“Uh, hi? I-I was just getting ready to take a shower. What’s up?”
“Just checking up on you, since you flipped back at the museum. I wanted to know if you’re still ok.”
He was standing in front of you now.
“I’m fine. Really, it’s okay.” You said, waving it off.
"Good, good. Uhm...if you were going to shower, 'care if I join you? ‘Saves water." he said, a little hesitantly.
"Yes?"
"Yes, as in you're okay with it?"
"I think so?"
"You think so?" he retorted. "You know, I'll shower later. Take some time for yourself." He said. And he gave you a kiss on your forehead before turning around to leave, but you grabbed his wrist, pausing his movement.
"no, wait! Stay.” You whispered. Roger turned around and his lips curled up into a soft smile.
“Yeah? Want me to join you after all?” He spoke softly with a now slightly devious grin on his face. He was up to something. “Come on, let’s get undressed then shall we?”
“Okay, now I feel weird about this.” You murmured, looking down at your feet. “Also, did no one see you going in here?”
“Everyone is everywhere and nowhere. I was reading something in my bed till just a few minutes ago and Brian and Deaks are downstairs I think. ‘Pretty sure they can’t see through walls and such.” He joked. “And please don’t feel weird, i-it’s just me. And to be honest, I’ve seen you naked more than- You know….a few days ago.” He felt a weird but good feeling going through his body as he said that. “If that helps,” he added. “You really sure you don’t want me to leave?”
You nodded and you took a few steps towards Roger. Your hands reached out to caress his chin. “No, I’m sure. You can stay.”
Your other hand made its way down to Rogers' hips and you briefly reached behind to give his ass a little squeeze, leaving him a little startled.
You pressed your lips against his before pulling away and placing your head on his shoulder. From the back, you started to push his shirt up. Your hands roamed over the skin of his back and you heard him sigh deeply. When the fabric was bunched up at his armpits, Roger threw his hands in the air so you could pull it over his head. And the shirt landed somewhere on the ground.
This time it was you who gasped at the sight of bare skin. It wasn’t like you had never seen his bare chest before, by any means. When he was rehearsing and it was a decent temperature he barely ever wore a shirt. But still, you thought he was so beautiful like this, gasp-worthy even.
Your hands had moved along with the shirt and were now on Rogers' shoulders, slowly making their way down again along his arms.
Your soft lips started devouring Roger's shoulders and neck. And you gently started to sucking at the skin, creating little red spots.
All of this made Roger gasp as a shiver shot through his body. “Fuck.” He muttered.
Your hand went down even further till it was resting on the waistband of his pants. You started fumbling with the zipper, but it didn’t really work. “Wait, lemme do that. It’s easier for me.” He chuckled and you stepped back just a little to give him some space.
In a matter of seconds, his pants were open and you stepped forward again.
In a matter of seconds, you had --- to your own surprise --- slid your hand into Rogers’ pants, making him choke on his breath.
His eyes were half-lidded when he looked into your eyes, breath fast and heavy as he felt your palm rest against his hardening length.
“You like that? Pretty boy? My hand in your pants?”
“Jesus, fuck. Yes!”
You dropped to your knees and proceeded to pull his pants down, Rogers eyes on you the entire way. He pulled one leg up and then the other so you could pull the material over his feet.
Sitting like that you couldn’t help but place kisses on his legs and you topped it off with some kiss on his clothed bulge, owning you another gasp from Roger.
“This isn’t fair,” he panted. “You’re still fully dressed and I’m almost...naked.”
“Fine!”
You moved back up onto your feet and Rogers' hands quickly started to work at your dress. And in no time you were both naked under the shower, and…a little turned on.
You grabbed the soap and- “Can I?” You asked with the bottle in your hand. And Roger nodded.
“Please.”
You squeezed some into your palm and carefully started rubbing the soap over his chest. Roger looked at your work with a soft smile on his face.
A few minutes later he did about the same for you. He was a little hesitant at first, but he quickly caught on when you started to encourage him.
“Turn around for me love,” He said and you did as he said. He started to clean your back, moving closer and closer to you as he finished the job. You sighed deeply at the feeling of his hands roaming over your skin and you relaxed completely. All the excitement and tension from the day fading away like ice in the sun.
But all of this ended when Roger suddenly pushed his body into your back, forcing you against the cold tiles.
“Jesus- Fuck! ROger! What the fuck!” You squealed.
“I did say you were in for it today didn’t I? Payback for leaving me hot and bothered. ‘Had to hide my hard-on for the entire ride home.” He growled in your ear. Speaking of…there was definitely something pressing against your back. And it was not Roger's belly.
“Are you serious?! This is hella cold! Let me go!” you said, trying to escape from his grip, but he was stronger than you.
“Sshhh, ‘s okay,” he hushed in your ear before spinning you around again.
You started hitting his chest in protest. “Ashole! You ever do that again and I’ll gut you, Taylor!”
“Sorry.” He apologized and he tried to catch you in his arms. Hugging you like a parent trying to hug their angry kid.
“Little fucker!” You muttered again this chest. “Not funny, those tiles are seriously cold.”
“Guess I’ll have to warm you up again then. Hmm?” He hummed.
“You better! Mr. Taylor!” And there it was again, that nickname. Over the course all those months it had changed from an obvious nickname to something that made his stomach turn and twist. But definitely in a good way.
“Say that again.”
“Mr. Taylor.” You repeated, but this time you said it with a more serious voice.
Right now it made him feel incredibly turned on. “You like that?” You asked.
“When you say it? Yes. Hell yes.” he sighed. “Fucking sexy,”
His cheeks turned a slightly darker shade of pink and then there was silence.
“Can you...turn around again?” he asked.
“Why?”
“Just wanna hold you again like today in the dressing room.”
“O-kayy?” You murmured, not sure why. “But don’t you dare push me against that wall again!”
“I swear it on my drum kit.”
His arms wrapped around you again as you turned around. And it felt...sweet...and also, kinda hot.
“I really love it, to hold you like this. Because like this, I can perfectly whisper in your ear; place kisses...hmmmm...on your shoulder and neck” he hummed. And you let your head fall to the side as he kissed you.
[!!!]
“Or I can slowly let my hand move down to your---”
You interrupted him with a quiet moan.
“That feel good love?”
“Hmhmm.” You nodded, your head falling back against his shoulders.
He kept rubbing over your clit till you were a quietly whimpering mess. You didn’t want to give the entire house a show.
“You close?” He whispered.
“Rog, please jus’ fu-”
You heard some fumbling before he spun you around again. And before you knew it he had pushed you against the cold wall again and wrapped your leg around his waist.
You really didn’t care about the wall right now, not at all.
You both held your breath as Roger experimentally pressed his hips into yours before dragging the tip of his length trough your folds.
Both of you gasped loudly as Roger slowly pushed into you, bit by bit. Till he was buried deep inside you.
For a moment the water streamed over you as you stood there, breathless.
“Fuck, feel so full.” You moaned, and almost simultaneously Roger choked out: “Oh...fuck- god you feel so...good love...feel so...tight. Squeezing me perfectly.”
“You were already close weren’t you?”
“Yeah. Please, Rog, move.” You sighed. “But be gentle okay?”
“Of course,”
He gave you an open-mouthed kiss as he pulled your thigh a little higher, so he could sink even deeper. And you moaned into each other's mouth.
He started to thrust into you at a steady pace and all you could focus on was the warm pressure in your lower abdomen and the sound of Rogers breath. Nothing else mattered. It was just you and him, him and you.
Your arms wrapped around him tightly and one hand combed through his wet hair.
You both finished with a series of quiet moans, they were almost inaudible.
[!]
The water kept flowing over you as you both calmed down. It felt so peaceful and quiet and lovely being wrapped in each other's arms. Almost as if you were actually becoming one for a moment. And it hurt when Roger released you to turn off the water to grab the towels.
You felt completely blissed out, sleepy, relaxed. As if someone had replaced all the sensations and feelings in your body with fluffy cotton candy, as cliché as it might sound.
“Rog?” you whispered, eyes closed. He had wrapped a towel around you both and pulled you back against his warm chest.
“Yeah?”
“Can I sleep in your bed again?” you murmured against the skin.
You just wanted to be close to him. Pressed against his warm body. Hug him, have him hug you, just...him. Be trapped in your bubble.
You were so sleepy that when you got out of the shower Roger had to help you dry off and get ready for bed --- not that he minded. And he indeed brought you to his room.
You laid there on his bed, Roger beside you on his side. He was absolutely mesmerized by how you looked in that moment and he felt so full of happiness. That you were his now amazed him.
“Can you hold me again?” You murmured, it was almost inaudible.
“‘Course.”
He snuggled against your back. Warm and cozy, even though it was quite hot already, you didn’t care about that.
---
“Rog? Rog psst! You awake?” You whispered while softly poking into his stomach.
“Hmmm? Good morning too you too. Is there something wrong, love?”
“Well Roggie, I dreamed about last night.” You smirked. “And now I’m sorta turned on.” You mumbled. “But also, I’m still very sleepy. So...”
“So?”
Maybe it was the fact that you were so relaxed, still feeling high in a way, that you were so blunt and straightforward. Or maybe it was the fact that you felt Rogers hard-on pressing against your back, but anyways-
“Can you just...fuck me really slowly again?”
To be honest, this kind of straightforwardness wasn't new. You had always been terribly honest with each other and now was no exception.
When you looked like crap he sure as hell was going to tell you. (You never got the chance to say that to him though since that bastard basically refused to not look fashionable at all times. But if he ever did you would definitely throw it in his face.) It had surprised you that it had taken him so long to tell you he liked you, since you were usually so open and chill with each other. But maybe this was an exception.
Yeah, Definitely.
Anyways, you telling him to fuck you --- not even calling it lovemaking or anything --- turned him on like mad. And he felt himself growing harder by the minute.
He was still hot and bothered from yesterday, couldn’t take his mind off of it --- and the time before that. And now this?!
“Oh please, can I?” he whispered excitedly.
Roger lazily god rid of his boxers and hiked your oversized shirt up a little. He caressed your hip with his thumb and placed a kiss on your neck.
"I just asked you too. So, yes."
[!!!]
"Need some prepping first? Hmmm? You maybe like it when I talk…dirty?" He began.
"let's try? Shall we?" You whispered back, your eyes closed as you listened to Roger's voice.
"You have no idea how much I want you right now...been thinking about last night too. Couldn't take my mind off of it. The water streaming over your skin…." He began. "your gleaming body...your-" he paused, and you felt the anticipation within you. "perfect tits. You make me so hard love."
You bit your lip as he continued.
"Y/N? Want me to touch you, love?"
"Yes, yes!"
"God, bet you're already dripping for me huh?"
"Wow I can't believe this is literally our third time and we're doing this?!" you laughed.
"Were we ever a normal couple y/n? I made love to you for the first time on the same day--- what am I even saying? The same night as I confessed my love to you. So… I think that says enough."
"Guess we're both just--- Nevermind. Did you just call us a couple?"
"I did didn't I. But should I continue or are we going to get ready for breakfast?"
You pulled your legs up a bit and pulled rogers hand down.
"Shit you are wet." he noticed.
He didn't wait any longer. He lined himself up with your entrance and he pushed into you, agonizingly slow. It made you gasp softly.
Your head fell back against Rogers' neck and you let out a guttural moan as he thrusted into you. It was so slow and lazy, but good.
He resumed his dirty talk and it got progressively filthier.
Moving from 'You're taking me so well love' to 'You're so fucking wet! I'm slipping away, almost sliding into your a--- oookay let's cut that of right there.
“Jeez, you're disgusting Rog. We're disgusting! We’re like horny teenagers.” You laughed when he said that.
"Fucking morning and night."
“We aren't horny teenagers anymore?!” He said sarcastically.
"Well, I can get behind the horny part but we're not teenagers anymore. Maybe mentally.”
"We're bad at this aren't we?" Roger murmured while he slowly kept thrusting into you, making you whine softly in between sentences.
"Yeahhhh." You laughed.
"God it feels so weird if you laugh. 'Squeezing around me."
"Yeah? Should I continue laughing? Does that turn you on?" You joked, purposely laughing even harder.
No, stop! Fuck…it feels so weird." And now Roger broke out into a laugh too.
"Continue this another time?" You suggested.
"Maybe that's a good idea, but I'll definitely have to get myself off. Otherwise I won't survive." Roger snickered. Moving his hand up to his head for dramatic effect. "But seriously, I don't want to be hard again for half of the day. It's uncomfortable as fuck."
"No, wait Roger! Make love to me." You said in an overly dramatic voice as you tried to get on top of him.
"Yes my love, I will save you. I'll be your hero!" Roger jumped in again.
You briefly rubbed your hands over rogers chest and gave him a kiss before sinking down on him again, throwing your head back pleasure.
"But seriously Rog… Fu-ck…please get me off or I'll be frustrated the entire day, I swear!"
[!]
So, in the end, the laughing did stop and you were both content, so to speak.
Since you had made a habit of sleeping almost naked your underwear was…absent. So you asked Roger to go to your room and get a pair but…
Apparently, you hadn't been very successful at keeping quiet and when Roger exited the room? Well…a Brown curly-haired man stood in the hallway.
"Good morning Rog. Heard you had fun this morning?"
Shittttttttt!!!
"Yeah, I did."
What was he doing?!
"Y/N came to my room, she was awake early. You know she makes me laugh all the time. She's hilarious you know, that's why I like her."
Awwww,
Brian squinted his eyes into thin lines, not really convinced of his mate's story.
"I'm pretty sure I heard a moan but okay…this time I'll take your word for it." He said like some kind of police agent. And then he walked away towards the stairs and added: "Oh yeah forgot to mention, you forgot something in the bathroom!"
A/N: a big thank you to the people who read, reblog, like and comment on my work. YOU ARE AMAZING! Because without these things I lose motivation. I create these things for free, all I’m asking you as a reader is to like, reblog and comment on my work. Even just a simple “wow” a meme or a keyboard smash makes me incredibly happy! Because there is nothing worse than making something and receiving no reaction to it.
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DEATH ON TWO LEGS // Roger Taylor x Reader // Two-Shot Story (1/2)
Part 1/2: Death on Two Legs
Part 2/2: Planting Gardens in Graves (title inspired by r.h. Sin)
Wordcount: 3.2k
Note: Originally the story is supposed to be a one shot entitled Planting Gardens in Graves which is the title of r.h. Sin's book. Was spacing out and had an imagination with its title.
Anyway, it's a two-shot story now, idk how'd it happenned, lol. And this is the part one.
One walks on the hallway of noise. Where people are never alone unless you have no friends. In your case, you never wanted to have friends. And another case, that one was definitely you, and only you.
After a couple of heart breaking relationships with too many people you've been with, you have stopped hoping to have an actual companion 24/7. Even friendships had crashed down harder than a landslide and you eroded towards sadness and loneliness that never left you alone. You should've cried like anyone else did, but you always thought of it as an act of being weak. And never did you found out that it helps to lessen the pain inside you. Even if you discover it today, it's already all too late.
The good side of having no friends or any sort that surrounds you is, actually none. You liked being positive but could not give justice to it, you relentlessly held on giving up, and that's the only thing you we're never tired of.
Too sad to notice the people around you, you sat on an empty high chair and wait for the professor. You're taking psychology and it's quite ironic when you think about relating it to your current situation.
"Excuse me sweetheart, but is this the Biochem class?"
You raised your eyes towards the masculine voice beside you and momentarily analyze him. You sighed and nodded ever so lightly and bring your gaze back to the table in front of you.
His eyes are blue as if it describes your whole existence.
You frowned with the comment of the voice from the back of your head.
His blond locks screams as if he's prettier than you.
That being said, he's too pretty, and is obviously a whore, in men's version.
Your eyes widened and you drop you head down to the table resting it on your folded arm before you and solely focused on preventing your mind to assume more of what the person beside you is.
"Hey are you alright?" you heard his voice and the clearness of the sound says his lips are only few inches away from your ear. You didn't bother on moving and you grunted in response. He did not bother you for minutes until he taps your shoulder to inform you that the professor had arrived. You did not gave him a single attention for the following moments and planning to leave the room as quickly as possible when the class come to halt, but the demand of your professor had ruined it minutes before you take an action. Grouping each students in pair, with their seat mate.
"I don't really need a group mate." You said to the guy as he offered you his hand to introduce himself. He took his hand back to his side.
"But I have no other seat mate, and you don't have as well. Do you think it's too selfish of yours to leave me alone?" He responded as he focused his gaze to your eyes.
"I can be alone, guess you can too." You shrugged and avoided his eyes.
"But—." He was cut off when you stood up, knowing that the class has ended and you're free to go. He got on his feet following you until outside of the room and held your wrist the moment you stepped out.
"I really need a group mate with this one." He said sounding like a beg. You took your wrist from him. You we're going to protest before he pleaded more.
"Please, please?"
With that beautiful face of yours, you could definitely find other students who would like to pair up with you, no doubts involved. Is what you would've said if he did not attempt to kneel before you. But you reacted too quickly to hold his arm before he slide down on his knees.
"Alright! Fine! Okay!" You said in defeat. He stood up straight, gained his coolness back and smiled widely at you.
"Knew you would cave!" He said brightly to you. You rolled your eyes at him.
"Not much of a talker then?" He asked as he walks along beside you. You didn't respond as an answer.
"By the way I'm Roger Taylor." He said once again and offered his hand to you.
"Y/N." You replied and did not took his hand so he drops it back to his side once again
"You're either too rude or just hate socializing." Roger said and you frowned.
"The latter." You said to him as you entered the ladies' restroom to avoid the conversation to be longer than you want.
Behind the door, Roger shrugged with a sigh and walked away.
You looked at your reflection in the mirror, and your cheeks are visibly light red than usual. You sighed at the occurrence earlier. He's just a man that you'll be working with the lab practices. It's alright, don't make it such big deal. You comforted yourself. Soon you left the restroom to head towards the library to do research. Why do I need to study this for psychology again? You mentally asked yourself as you walk alone. You scanned through the bookshelves and gathering books that seems like could help with the lab activity. Your feet went directly to an empty study space to secure your personal space, but minutes after, Roger is at your side with another three people in front of you.
You frustratedly looked to his side and raised your eyebrow.
"What do you need Taylor?" You hissed at him. He raises his hands up at shake it in the air.
"We wanted to see you!" The guy from the left side of three long haired man squealed. The librarian shushed your group from behind and the guy from the left lowered his head down as if it helps him to lower his voice as well.
"Yes Roger told us about your mystery behavior—" the guy from the middle said but was cut off by you. You faced Roger again and attempting to give him the most impossible eyebrow raise to intimidate him.
"As far as I remember, Roger, we spoke to each other 5 minutes ago and you already told your friends about your 'groupmate'—in which you begged me to do, and this," you paused for a moment to gesture towards his friends and continued, "looks like I need a validation in whether I'll be alright to be your groupmate."
"Slow down honey. I never expected you to speak that much." Roger replied to you emphasizing "that much" exaggeratedly. You glared at him.
"Sorry, sorry. It's just you're very interesting!" He said, louder than he expected resulting to another shush from the librarian. He as well did the same action like the guy from the left did, bowed his head towards the table.
"This is Freddie, then Tim. And that is Brian." Roger introduced his friends from the left to right. You gave them a small smile and turn your attention back to Roger.
"So what do you need Roger?" and you were replied with Freddie's "It's actually us that needs you darling." You tried to not look irritated at the boys and nodded for him to continue.
"Wanted to see why Roger was so curious at you." Fred said and was instantly followed with "And not validation to be his groupmate, seeing how responsible of you going to the library this soon." in which Brian said. Tim nodded along with their explanation.
"I don't really have time for this kind of bullshit." You said standing up and picking the books with you to bring them home instead.
Roger ran after you, apologizing and looking very guilty and embarrassed.
"See you tomorrow Roger." Is what you answered him without even looking.
You have lost your focus on your books as soon you tried to read at home. Your mind drifted to Roger and you admit to yourself, he is attractive as much as he is annoying, and frustrating. Sounds like the type of guy who would kiss and tell. Talks too much, and is overconfident. In which you really mind too much than necessary.
The moment you arrived at the laboratory the next day, your eyes looked around for a bit of Roger but you did not found him. You sighed as you walked towards an empty space and sat on a stool and securing one beside you for Roger. You mentally prepared yourself for another socializing for today. The professor already came and Roger is still not around. You rolled your eyes in your mind not wanting to grab weird glances. Well in the first place, you could do it without Roger.
You wore your lab coat and your gloves and your safety goggles. You paid attention to your professor speaking until there was a slight movement, and you caught a sneaking Roger sit beside you. He quickly wore his lab coat, goggles and gloves as he swing his stool's direction towards your side. "Sorry I'm late." He silently said . You shrugged to him, not taking your eyes off the professor. You only looked to Roger when the professor had gave you the go signal to proceed on following the steps on your textbook.
"Have you ever used one of this?" You asked Roger as you set the volume of the pipet.
"Nope." He answered as he focused his attention on the thing that's on your hand.
"Well for a little lesson for you, you have to set its volume first with this knob," you said. "Also will you hand me the disposable tip there?" You requested and he obliged.
"Then you attach this. Depress the plunger then immerse the tip in the sample." You narrated every single thing you did as Roger closely watched you, and taking mental notes in his head.
"How'd you know all of that?" He asked. You hummed momentarily and finished immersing from the sample before answering him.
"Book said it. Do you ever read?" You answered with question in return as if completely allowing yourself to fall in the conversation you never wanted to have, but you're having it now. He took the book and read few lines.
"Oh yeah there they are. Thought you just know everything." He answered as he placed the book down and you frowned at him.
"Well then, Roger the useless groupmate, you can finish this off." You said handling him the pipet and pushing the weighboat in front of him. He took it from you and read a few from the book once again and perfectly aced the procedure on the book. You stared at his hands doing the work in awe.
You were recording the datas and commenting about the results of the activity as Roger follows the procedure. Once you finished it, you helped him clean your area and properly disposing your wastes.
"You're not that bad as a groupmate." He said as you cleaned the last spot and he removed his gloves and goggles. You dismissed his remark and get on with cleaning yourself as well.
He took the analysis to pass it to the prof and followed you closely behind.
"Do you really hate socializing that much?" Roger asked as he moves beside you and synchronized his walking with you. You sighed and stopped to face him.
"Roger, we're not friends. I don't like having friends, don't like keeping one and don't like interacting to have one. There are plenty of other people that surrounds you, and probably wants your attention, and you should give that to them instead to me. The relationship we only have is classmates, which is limited inside the laboratory room at that particular Biochemistry subject. So don't waste your time on me." You said and before he could reply, your eyes found the restroom and quickly entered to leave him, once again. On the other side, there's a standing Roger, frowning to himself, heart aching with your little speech. Little does he know, you are a walking dead. Alive but feeling quite dead. Or more, not quite feeling anything.
You never stopped attending biochemistry. Everyday you have to deal with constant fear of bumping into Roger and not being able to hold yourself back from hurting him more. You were heartless but you're not a bitch.
Fortunately to you, his absent is more constant and it's almost a week since you last saw him. You are left alone with the laboratory practices, which you didn't mind but you realized that work is easier when he's around.
Alone, your days were only spent going to university and back to your dorm walking. Nothing ever happens, as if you ever dream on anything that makes your life more interesting. The moment you've thought of it, came Roger into your sight. Walking towards you. You, as usual did not react though you felt something incredibly weird, something that tickles your stomach, and made your throat dry. You weren't going to say hi to him, but you considered. Only lost the consideration when he walked past you heading towards another person and did not acknowledge your presence crossing his path. Well you were never friends with him in the first place.
Your last subject today was biochemistry and seeing that you have seen him in this noisy hallway, you can guarantee yourself seeing him inside the room, and much worse do an experiment with you. You headed towards the laboratory and sat down on your usual spot, where Roger was already set on his chair. He was reading the class' textbook while occasionally scribble texts on his notebook which you recognize was not a biochem related, more like a poetry.
"What you starin' at?" Roger spoke suddenly and you froze on your seat. You looked away, any directions far from him that even your peripheral vision could not catch a single shape of him. He had enough. He stopped whatever he was doing and swing your chair to face him.
"So partner that I'm only allowed to speak inside this laboratory room and specifically only in this subject—" he stopped momentarily when you glared at him. "What did I miss?" He asked as if it's okay to go full mia for that long.
"Basically half of the term." You mocked him and he gasped in response.
"No way doll, I don't think so." He said as he chuckled to himself, letting him swing sideways with his stool.
"A lot." You said and you swing your stool to change direction, to avoid his direction.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave you in this shit hole alone. How did you do on the lab experiments?" He asked in concern.
"No need to be. I told you before I could handle this experiments without a partner. But don't worry 'bout your grades. I think I included your name to every experiments I did alone." You replied dry.
"You didn't have to do that!" He said surprised. You sighed at him.
"I already did." You replied plain then rolled your eyes at him.
"Thank you thank you thank you!" He said non stop.
You did not try to return any sort of answer that lead you both to shut up the whole class as you followed closely the book's procedure and occasionally taking Roger's not really needed help.
The class had finished and he stood up even before anyone else and stormed off. You were glad because being tense with someone is not your favourite.
Roger had realized it. You are independent, and doesn't need help from anyone. Doesn't need communication unlike how much he needed it. Doesn't need anyone unlike how he craves one. As if you were dead, he never looked at you, talked to you, or approached you when you're outside the class that you share. But when you're both there, he never shuts his mouth and just blab about everything to you. He'd sometimes call you death on two legs like this time.
"Hey Y/N!" He called you as he sat on his stool, already in his lab coat. You shoot him a look that asks what does he need again.
"I am thinking about getting things a little to level up." You rolled your eyes. He mentioned that line a lot that you already know what you will hear next. "Like we should discuss the last lesson to a café!" He said. You never agreed everytime he would bring it up but it was needed today because the last lab experiment is tomorrow and it is the half of final exam so both of you need to prepare for it and master each and every procedure, especially that the professor do not allow any manual this time.
You and Roger went to bunch of cafés but all of them are occupied and you ended up in your dorm. You just prepared a tea to his liking and went over the procedures to be familiarized but ending up to memorize the whole thing.
As soon as you finished studying with Roger you let him to be comfortable in the house for a little and let him talk and ask you questions.
"Y/N why are you like that?" He asked and you raised an eyebrow at him.
"You're like a walking dead. Alive but dead. Death on two legs." He said and he brings his arm on your shoulders and you flinched.
"Please put your arm off me." You warned and he quickly took it off.
"Y/N, something serious. I really really like you." He said staring at your eyes. You stood up from the couch and walked towards your door.
"Get out." You commanded him, he followed but never passing the doorframe.
"It's simple being close to anyone. Let yourself loose. What's wrong with it? What's wrong with you?" He asked, but in pure concern but it certainly made you shake in anger and distaste.
"What's wrong with that? You were nothing but a pure distraction! All the time! You showed too much care, too much that could drag my walls down and I can't let that happen! I stopped believing in all of these bullshits, and please don't dare try to change it." You screamed firmly at him. He had his forehead crumpled into lines as he stares back at you. You pushed his chest pass the door and attempted to close it.
"But—I'm serious Y/N. I really do like you." He said almost as if to himself. His voice was too low and you could hear only a bit of it. Somewhere between like and you.
"No Roger. It's probably infatuation. Leave me alone." You said attempting to shut the door. He held on it as tightly as possible.
"Please Y/N. Take a risk, give me a chance. I won't fail you." Roger said, eyes pleading you. Those eyes were far from the first pleading he did the first time you met each other. This one seems very eager to do anything for you, well except leaving you.
"Roger, I'm sorry. I've taken too many risk. Being your partner in laboratory was a risk. Talking to you is a risk. Taking you here was apparently a risk and nothing came good out of it. I can't do much of it anymore." You said and you grab all the opportunity to close the door when his grip on it loosened. As soon as you locked it, you pressed your back on it and slides down the floor, your knees folding as you bring your face to it. Such a stupid idea getting involved with him in the first place.
-
Tag: @rtyler19 i am so thrilled to tag the first ever user to my writing!
And to anyone who read it, thank you so much!
#queen#queen fan fiction#roger taylor#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor fan fiction#roger taylor angst#rtd#rtdwritings#rtdwrites
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The Trouble with Nocturnal Ambush Predators - A Good Omens Fanfiction
when I went to post this on AO3 (found here), turns out Crowley’s weird statue has its own tag
shit’s wild guys
anyway crowley and aziraphale make a bet about how shitty crowley’s vision is
nobody but also everybody wins, in a way
count the parks and rec references. also of course i had to make someone a doctor because i live at work i guess idk
-
Everyone was rather surprised when Brian announced that he would be going to school with plans to become a doctor. Brian, who reveled in dirt and grime, Brian that even at twenty would wear clothes more than once if he thought he could get away with it, Brian that ate food out of takeaway boxes and still left them in the sink. It was startling, the image of Brian, that Brian, standing in a sterile operating theater, scrubbed and gowned and as anti-septic as possible. And yet, this was also Brian that was always there for the Them, who would come the moment he was called if help was needed, who swallowed his pride and rebuked his filthy habits if only for a few minutes, to help his friends and save the world.
It was surprising but, the Them and friends reflected, not entirely shocking. It did make sense, in a sort of way. “I’d really like to study infectious diseases,” he said one night over dinner at the Pulsifer’s, while everyone was still gathered around the table for drinks. It was late, and Anathema had gone an hour or so ago to put her little daughter to bed, even over the child’s protests and desperate clinging to Crowley, who objected much less firmly than any self-respecting demon should have. Well enough then, he told Aziraphale, when the angel had pointed it out, that he was only still a demon in technicalities only.
Pepper looked amused. “You should see him in classes,” she said, for she was in the same class as Brian, with her sights set on psychiatry as a specialty once she’d graduated. “He sits right up front, a real gunner, and every time they ask about some weird bacteria, boom! He’s right there with the answer.” She rolled her eyes, but she was laughing, too. “I think it was all the dirt he always had on him when we were kids - he communed with the germs and they accepted him as one of their own.”
Brian flushed. “I don’t talk to germs. I just think they’re jolly interesting, is all.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Adam Young said, leaned back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head. “Someone ought to, right? Otherwise we’d all die of cholera or something.”
Aziraphale frowned into his wineglass. “Nasty illness, cholera. I remember the pump outbreak …” He shook his head, putting an end to that reverie, and smiled at Brian instead. “It is fortunate you have such an interest, Brian - the world needs doctors, certainly.”
“So what’s medical school like these days?” Crowley asked, a mirror of Adam, leaned back in his chair with his feet on the table, idly swirling the scotch in his glass. “Last time I tried was, oh, the sixteenth century I think. Thereabouts.” He winced. “Pretty sure it’s got on since then. Hopefully.”
“Oh, yes,” Brian nodded. “Yes, I’d imagine it is. Very structured now, and there’s labs and independent study and practicing skills and all kinds of things, not to mention all the lectures and exams.”
“So many,” Pepper agreed mournfully. “Endless exams.”
“D’you practice on mannequins then?” Crowley looked thoughtful. “I’d imagine they do a good bit with mannequins.”
“Some yeah. And then some - the safer stuff - we practice on each other. Y’know …” Brian thought, waving his hands vaguely. “Listening to lungs and hearts, eye tests, that kind of stuff.”
Aziraphale looked up at that. “Eye tests, you say?” He looked across the table to Crowley, a grin slowly spreading over his lips. “Crowley, dear, we could finally settle the debate -”
“No. No, we can’t.”
Newt, who had been washing up in the kitchen, returned, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Debate? What are we debating, then?”
“Nothing,” Crowley griped. “Angel has been insisting for the past decade or whatever - since you kids were eleven, however long ago that was -”
“A decade,” Wensley confirmed.
“Right, so that long, I’ve had to hear about how I really shouldn’t be driving because snakes don’t have good visual acuity.” Crowley spread his hands. “To which I make my point: if I really couldn’t see, you think I would’ve gone this long with the Bentley without crashing it? Armageddon notwithstanding, that was extenuating circumstances.”
Aziraphale muttered into his wine, “Only thanks to occasionally-gratuitous use of miracles.”
“Occasionally, angel! Occasionally doesn’t count. Not like it’s a daily occurrence.
“And anyway, my vision’s better than a human’s at a distance and in the dark,” Crowley said authoritatively. “Horizontal planes an’ light refraction and all that. Saw a film about it.”
“Listened to a film about it,” Aziraphale mumbled. Adam snorted.
“Wasn’t very nice,” the boy said, although he was grinning.
Pepper laughed a little too, while Crowley presumably glared at Aziraphale - the sunglasses, as ever, made it difficult to tell for sure. “It’d be easy enough to test, if you really wanted to.”
“I don’t.”
“Not even for a wager?” Crowley looked at Aziraphale at that, and a long silence stretched out. The Them and Newt watched, rapt, because they’d only ever seen the two supernatural entities bet on something once before, and that was whether or not either of them could, after two bottles of wine, climb to the top of the biggest tree in Hogback wood without using miracles, wings, or shapeshifting*. They had, if memory served, wagered an entire years’ worth of song-selection privileges. It was, perhaps, fortunate that neither had won the bet, because in retrospect Adam considered it a distinct possibility that an ultimatum like that could only have ended in some kind of argument**.
[* They couldn’t, but no one had paid attention to that, because the entire spectacle was so hilarious that the end result was fairly irrelevant, and Crowley turned into a snake when he thought no one was watching and cheated anyway. ]
[** Crowley and Aziraphale, after the Nahpocalypse, argued very seldom, but being that neither liked to do anything by halves, arguments were usually intensely dramatic, if short-lived. The last argument had resulted in Crowley living in the garden at Jasmine Cottage as a snake for a weekend, and only ended because Newt threatened to call animal control on him if the two didn’t reach some kind of agreement about whether or not Tom or John Barnaby was the better detective .]
The demon was tempted. “What are the stakes?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Something.” Aziraphale shrugged. “Let’s say … oh, alright. You win, and I turn a blind eye to whatever you want to do to your plants for a month before the flower show next year.”
The Them and Newt, like spectators at a chess match, breathed out. “Oh, that’s a good one,” Brian mumbled.
“But if I win, which I will, of course, then …” Aziraphale considered it. “Then …” He thought harder, and then beamed. “Then next time the neighbors want to take a week holiday, you have to take care of their smallholding by yourself .” There were assorted gasps from around the table.
Crowley barked a laugh. “Absolutely not.”
“Because you know you’d lose.”
“No, because I always end up taking care of the smallholding by myself anyway, bloody goats.” Crowley leaned his elbows onto the table and tapped his chin with steepled fingers. “Right, when I win, I’ll … or you …” He brightened. ���I get to yell at my plants, and you have to let me move the statue into the living room for an entire year.”
Aziraphale groaned. “Not the statue. No, just the plants.”
“No, the statue is a part of this.”
“When I win,” Aziraphale soldiered on, pretending they were not arguing about Crowley’s infamous Angel Statue that served as a crucial part of every argument and poorly-concealed threat in their relationship, “you have to put the blasted statue in a storage unit somewhere, and you take the speakers off that abhorrent vacuum cleaner."
Crowley looked appalled. “You’d cut out DJ Roomba’s tongue for a bet?”
“I’m hardly -” He looked to Crowley, and then relented, with a sigh. “Alright. No speaker on DJ Roomba for three months. Then you can put the speakers back on.” He seized Crowley’s hand the moment the other extended it, and they shook on it, both with equal enthusiasm and smugness. “I look forward to my three months of peace.”
“Can’t wait to put my statue in the living room and kill those bloody fittonias at last.”
Pepper and Brian exchanged a look, while Adam, Newt, and Wensley were trying to hide their laughter behind their hands. “We should print a Snellen chart,” Pepper said solemnly.
“Definitely need a Snellen chart.”
Newt nodded and stood from the table. “The printer is has bluetooth. Wait for me to be outside before you connect to it.”
Once Newt had vacated the building briefly, it was easy enough to print the eye chart. Adam found a measuring tape in a cookie tin full of sewing supplies***, and they solemnly marked out the ascribed distance. “Never done one of these before,” Crowley said, sobered-up for the endeavor. “What, you’re just supposed to read it?” Aziraphale was standing over his shoulder, arms crossed, looking so smug he might as well have already won. Perhaps he had.
[*** “ Why do you need it?” Anathema had asked him as she rocked Millie to sleep on her shoulder. Adam had explained, and she had nodded. “Oh, definitely,” she’d said. “The sewing kit is still in the linen closet in the bathroom - there should be a tape measure in there. Wait until I put Millie down to bed. I want to be there.” ]
“Yeah, you cover one eye,” Pepper instructed. “Right, and then you read the smallest line you can see. Ready?”
“Easiest bet I’ve ever won,” Crowley said, motioning to Brian to flip the corkboard he’d pinned the chart to. “Right, go for it.” The board flipped, and Crowley blinked. “Well, there’s the big ‘E’ at the top.”
“Everyone knows the big E,” Anathema said, dismissive. “He said read the smallest line you can.”
“Right. Ah …” There was an uncomfortable pause. “Can I try the other eye?”
“I knew it,” Aziraphale hissed triumphantly.
Brian swallowed. “Uh. In a minute. Um. Which … which direction is the ‘E’ pointing, then?”
Crowley frowned. “Whatever way ‘E’s usually point. What kind of stupid question is that?”
The assembled humans and one angel looked at the ‘E’ which was, very clearly, printed backwards. Aziraphale raised his hands to his mouth. “Crowley, you drove us here.”
“So? Didn’t crash, did I?” He switched eyes. “Oh, yeah, the other one’s better.”
“You’re serious?” Brian asked, craning his neck around to stare at the chart. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, so what’s that mean, then?” Crowley stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back onto his heels.
Pepper grimaced. “You’re legally blind?”
“No, that can’t be right.” He shrugged. “I drove us here, didn’t I?”
“He drove us here at 100 miles per hour,” Aziraphale added, in a mix of astonishment and terror.
“Right, and didn’t hit anything -”
“This time,” Anathema muttered under her breath.
“And made great time, all here, safe as houses.” He smirked. “Could a legally blind guy do that?”
“Maybe Daredevil,” said Newt, unhelpfully.
“Anyway,” Crowley went on, turning away to stalk across the room, past his horrified angel, and flick off the light switch, instantly plunging the room into darkness, “you’re not looking at this the right way. Move the chart around a bit, med student,” he instructed, the last part said with some disdain.
“You’re not at the line,” Brian protested.
“Just move it.” There was a whisper in the dark as the corkboard started moving in irregular figure-of-eights, Brian waving it around. Had it been light enough to see, his confusion would have been plainly evident on his face. “Right, so you got the ‘E’, which is backwards, then F, P, ah … T, O, Z, er … right, faster, okay, L, P, E, D, and then … Hm. Yeah, not sure after that.” The lights flipped back on, and Crowley put his sunglasses on. “So there.”
All the others looked from Crowley, to the eye chart, and back. “How?” Adam demanded. “You didn’t mess around -”
“Nocturnal ambush predator,” Crowley replied, as if it were obvious. “Plus, the ink’s still a bit warm from the printer. So even easier, really - I’ve got a whole extra sense, even, unless humans can see infra-red.”
“We can’t,” Wensley assured him.
“Right, so what’s that make me, then? I win, obviously.”
Aziraphale jumped in then. “Oh, no, no you don’t. Under human standards -”
“That was never specified.” Crowley grinned, and showed his teeth. Nocturnal ambush predator indeed. “Don’t try that with me, angel, remember which one of us is the demon, here.”
“It was inferred.”
“No such thing in a bet. Has to be expressly specified.” Crowley made a fist. “The fittonias die tonight.”
Since the lights had come back on, Anathema had been frowning, her lips moving occasionally as she clearly puzzled something over. She spoke, finally, slowly, and said, “But … but when you hit me with your car … it was night. And I was moving. And you were moving.” She looked at him, frowning. “You should have seen me, then.”
Crowley shrugged. “Wasn’t paying attention. No harm done, anyway.”
“Not after Aziraphale fixed me!”
Crowley scoffed. “Right. Like I said.” He pointed to Aziraphale. “I’m making an entire pop playlist for DJ Roomba just for this, angel.” He grinned even wider. “And I’m moving the statue as soon as we get home.”
“Really, dear boy, I don’t think this is as clear-cut as you say.”
“Oh, isn’t it?” Crowley pointed to Brian and Pepper. “Med students, stop me if I’m wrong -” they wouldn’t “- but the definition of visual acuity does allow for corrective devices, yes?”
“Yes,” said Pepper, while Aziraphale groused, “A moving chart and total darkness do not count as corrective devices, you know they mean glasses -”
“So there you go.” Crowley crossed the room and tore the chart from the board. “With corrective devices I’m … 20/50. So there. Not perfect but I still win.”
Aziraphale’s eyes were narrowed. “That’s cheating.”
“Again, if it’s not specified in the terms then technically it is not cheating. I’ve got books about this somewhere^, Aziraphale.” He spread his hands. “I’ve made a few bets and bargains in my life, believe it or not.”
[^ Books that were, he would not add, written in blood and bound in human skin.]
Aziraphale scowled. “You’re not putting that statue out.”
“Oh, but I am. I won the privilege.”
“You didn’t win anything.”
“Oh, but I did.” Crowley rubbed his hands together. “I definitely did. By the laws of betting.” He clapped Brian on the shoulder. “Thanks for moving the chart, kid.”
“And not letting the ink dry all the way,” Adam added under his breath with a poorly-stifled laugh.
Aziraphale was still scowling at Crowley, arms crossed over his chest. “We’ll discuss this further in the car.”
Crowley made a noise that might have been a chuckle, if there wasn’t just so much infernal glee instilled in it. “You sure you want me to drive home?” The angel’s wine glass miraculously filled itself. “Oh, so you’re going to be like that?"
“That statue is going out over my discorporated body.”
“It’s a very expensive statue.” He wilted a little under the blue fire in Aziraphale’s eyes. “Alright, we can talk about it in the car.”
The angel swallowed the wine in one gulp. “Capital.”
#good omens#good omens fanfiction#anthony j crowley#aziraphale#the them#i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much#crowley is a snake in a human suit#you will never change my mind
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‘Heart and soul’ – John Deacon X Fem!Reader
A/N: You don’t need a romantic partner to complete you. You’re a whole person, and co-dependency never works out for anyone. Yes, this is me trying to convince myself of this. I’m just really lonely, okay?
In this world reader replaces Paul and he never existed because, well, do I have to explain?
I could’ve called this ‘Somebody to Love’ but that’s just a little too cliché. Think of this as a Shakespeare’s ‘Twelfth Night’ or ‘What you Will’ scenario.
Also a preface I suck at characterisation cause all my life I’ve written first-person stories with no other characters, and that usually reflects me, so please just like know that ?? Idk I’m trying ?? It’s hard with real people. Also obviously Rog is written as a one-dimensional asshole, and I’m totally aware that he is absolutely nothing like that irl.
(The line about ‘heart and soul’ came from a shadowhunters episode)
I’m lowkey embrassed about this idk it sucks I’ve had a bit of a writing slump recently ,,,
MY MASTERLIST
When was it your turn?
You hated to be ungrateful for the incredible people around you; your fun-loving, kind-hearted friends, your supportive family, your wonderful job that provided you the opportunity of a lifetime; to spend your days with the members of the band Queen, assisting them in their day-to-day lives, getting along with them wonderfully.
You hated to place all your hopes of finding happiness in a romantic partner, but you couldn’t help it. Something was missing. There was a gap in your life, waiting to be filled with romance.
As you watched all your friends get married, have children, settle down, you couldn’t help but resent it a little; you despised yourself for these thoughts. Of course you were happy for them, but you couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with you. Why nobody paid you any attention. Why you’d never gone as far as awkwardly making out with a boy with braces when you were 14. Were you really that repulsive?
These were the kind of thoughts that kept you up at night, when you had nothing else to keep you happy or distracted. As you wondered where your Prince Charming was, somebody to sweep you off your feet and make you feel loved, you’d never imagined what you’d been looking for was right in front of you all along.
1975
“Jesus Y/N. What’s in here, bricks?” Roger practically dragged your bag through the dust as he struggled to carry it. You adjusted your handbag on your shoulder, rolling your eyes.
“You don’t have to carry it, Roger! I should be carrying your bags!” You exchanged a knowing glance with John; he grinned, his eyes creasing.
“Yes I do, I’m being a gentleman!” he exclaimed, literally tripping over his own feet, dropping your bag into the dust.
“No you’re not, you’re just trying to get into my pants. Which is super unprofessional, by the way,” you snapped, picking up your bag, dusting it off and marching ahead of him into the house.
“She’s right, Rog. Y/N would never shag her boss. And if she did, she’d hide it really well,” Freddie pointed out.
“Thanks Fred,” you laughed, turning back to wink at him. John and Brian, quietly carrying their own bags, trailing behind, were amused at the exchange.
Once everybody had found their rooms and settled in, the band went to the recording studio to work. You, meanwhile, sat in the kitchen, chatting to your closest friend Kathy on the phone. Somehow, you’d got into a conversation about your love lives. Unfortunately, your lack thereof.
“I don’t know, Kath,” you sighed, twirling the phone cord around your finger. “It feels like I’m so behind, you know? I hate to sound like I’m complaining but I haven’t even been on a date in like three months! And the guy was a total creep! When am I going to have something like you and Joe have?”
“Y/N, you’re amazing,” she sighed. “The right guy is just around the corner, and he’s going to love you heart and soul.” Kathy replied, ever the comforter.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because it’s what you deserve!”
You laughed, “Thanks Kath.” The door opening behind you interrupted you, and you quickly said, “I have to go, I’ll call you later. Love you!”
She laughed. “Love you too, Y/N. He’s closer than you think!” She finished. You rolled your eyes, a small smile on your face as you hung up. You turned around in your chair to see who had come in. John stood with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels, a sweet smile on his face.
“Sorry Deaky, do you need anything?” you asked, feeling slightly guilty that you were talking to Kathy when you could be working.
“I’m sorry! Did I interrupt?” he walked past you to the fridge, opening it up and furrowing his eyebrows. “Who were you talking to? Someone special?” Heat rushed to your cheeks, but you couldn’t entirely explain why.
“No, no, just a friend. She’s awesome, we’ve been friends since high school,” you said, standing up to close the fridge, uncomfortable with how long he’d kept it open.
John nodded, smiling slightly at your actions. “Can you help me make some sandwiches and tea? I was sent to ask you to do it.”
“Of course, I was just thinking about getting everyone some lunch! Please, go back, I’ll do it,” you smiled at him, beginning to gather the necessary ingredients.
“I’m happy to help,” he said, a twinkle in his eye, putting the kettle on. You were taken aback at your body’s reactions to being alone with him, which had never really happened before. He tended to sit back and observe in group conversations, so it was interesting to see him in a different setting; he had an intriguing spark to him that you hadn’t really noticed before. You were surprised to find your heart beating faster when he placed his hand on your side to steady himself as he leant past you to grab something, blood rushing to your cheeks when he considerately asked you how you took your tea.
You’d never pictured it, but the two of you worked together seamlessly, as you chatted and joked easily. You playfully teased him, not being able to help yourself. However, unlike some people, he understood your sense of humour, laughing along with you.
The last straw came when you began discussing your personal life. Generally, you were a pretty open book, so you didn’t mind his questions. Little did you know, though, he was gauging the status of your love life for himself. Ever since you were hired by the band, John found himself captivated by your kindness, your sense of humour, your smile. The rest of the band knew of course, but you were oblivious to the signs, being, to your shame and disappointment, an amateur in the romantic department.
Now, after a mere ten minutes, you’d developed proper feelings for one of your employers. Sure, you laughed along when Roger tried to sleep with you, but you assumed he was always joking. And John was different. God, what was wrong with you? Were you really so starved for affection that you crushed on the first man to pay you attention for longer than a minute?
You knew you couldn’t ever do anything about this. Not only was it entirely unprofessional, you were certain he didn’t feel the same way. Besides, it would be way too complicated if things didn’t work out.
So, you pushed down your feelings, avoiding eye contact with John as much as you possibly could, walking in front of him when silently when you carried the trays of lunch to the recording studio.
----------
The next couple of days were torturous, to say the least. You wished you’d never had your sudden revelation, everything seemed so much simpler before. You were even finding yourself missing the sheer agony that came from not knowing if you’d ever meet your perfect man. Because you already had, you just didn’t realise it. And now, you had to spend all your time in his presence, knowing you would never be more than his assistant. Knowing you could never have him in the way you wanted.
That was, until you accidentally overheard a conversation that confused you even more, that brought even more conflict upon you. It was a little too early in the morning for your preference, and you were carrying a tray of coffees to the recording studio, a task that was proving quite the challenge. Just as you were attempting to balance the tray in one hand to open the door, the whole tray slipped out of your hand. Hot coffee splattered your leg, mugs smashed everywhere, and you could do nothing to stop it, except yell, “Fuck!”
That was your breaking point. Feeling entirely defeated, you slid down the wall almost comically, clutching your knees among the broken mugs. Coffee stained your pants, but you found yourself not caring. Hot tears filled your eyes, and you shook your head. You were pathetic. Why were you getting so worked up over a couple of coffee mugs? That’s when you heard the loud voices from inside.
“Did you ask her?” a voice you assumed was Brian’s asked. You froze, heart beating rapidly. You were the only woman around. Were they talking about you?
“Not exactly,” John said softly. The heat rushed to your cheeks, anticipating what he would say next. “I found out that she’s single, and it seems like she’s never been in a serious relationship.”
“You’d better do it soon mate, before I shag her, ditch her, and she quits because she can’t stand to be in the same room as me.” That was Roger. Of course it was.
At the same time you heard Freddie say, “She has way too much respect for herself for that,” John retaliated with, “Fuck off, Rog. She’s not like that.” Before you could even comprehend what just happened, their conversation changed rapidly, and you heard footsteps approaching the door. Shit.
You barely had time to stand up, before John swung open the door. He was, understandably, taken aback at the mess.
“I um,” you bit your lip. “Had a bit of an accident,” you stuttered awkwardly. You scolded yourself internally for the probably obvious blush on your cheeks. What was wrong with you? You really needed to pull yourself together.
As you broke eye contact with John and began to pick up the larger pieces of mugs, you heard a voice chime from inside, “Where are our coffees?”
----------
All eyes were on you as you lined up your cue, eyes narrowed in concentration as you broke. Balls flew everywhere, bouncing off the sides of the table with satisfying sounds. Perhaps you were letting out your frustrations on the balls.
“Nice break,” John said, leaning against the wall. It was such a casual, neutral comment, you were quite embarrassed at your flustered response.
You smiled softly, muttering “thanks.” It was hard to ignore the knowing eyebrow raises and glances from Freddie, Roger and Brian. You thought back to the conversation you overheard earlier. Did John have feelings for you? And did the rest of the band know about it? You suddenly felt exposed and embarrassed at the thought. Surely it wasn’t true, it was too good to be true; a man you had feelings for actually reciprocating them? Either way, even if he did, you still couldn’t do anything about it considering your employment. But, still, at least you would be a step closer to love.
You tried your best to suppress your confusing feelings and multitude of questions as the night went on; a stream of drinks were consumed by all, laughs were had, and victories were had (mostly by you; what could you say? You’d been playing pool all your life). You found yourself thanking your lucky stars yet again to have such an incredible job where you could hang out with a bunch of truly great, fun, interesting and talented people. Slowly, Freddie, Brian and Roger dwindled away, leaving just yourself and John. By the time you were becoming too tipsy to properly aim, finding yourself confused at which balls were yours, John decided it was time for you to get some rest.
“Y/N you should go to bed, if you keep drinking you’re gonna feel even worse in the morning,” he said, as you sat cross-legged on the floor, cradling your beer. He leaned down with the intention of helping you up, placing his hand on your shoulder. “Big day tomorrow.”
You pushed him off you, scrambling to stand up. “Why are you telling me what to do all of a sudden? Just piss off. You’re not – I mean, we’re, you’re not, you’re –“ you struggled to find the right words in your current state of consciousness. John’s face contorted with – hurt? – as he looked like you’d slapped him.
“I was just trying to help,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he said sincerely. God. You’d insulted him when he was being kind, and he was apologising to you? Could he be any more perfect?
“No I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I just…” you trailed off, furrowing your brows as you studied his face. “I’m confused.”
“About what?” he asked, frowning, stroking your arm encouragingly. You melted into his touch; it sent goosebumps all over your body. Whether it was the alcohol or not you couldn’t tell.
“God, everything!” you rambled, not being to stop the words spilling out of your mouth. “You! I don’t know what to do, I don’t get it. You confuse me. What do I do?” you glanced up at him, the room slightly spinning. “Just take me to bed. You were right. I need to sleep, I don’t know what I’m saying.”
John nodded speechlessly, guiding you back to your room. He helped you take off your shoes, tucked you in and placed a glass of water beside your bed.
Both of you went to bed with even more questions than answers that night.
----------
“Morning, there’s the party girl!” Freddie chimed, looking up at you.
“Shhhh, not so loud,” you grumbled, eyes barely open as you flopped down onto the couch in the recording studio, rubbing your temples.
“Sorry about last night, that’s so unlike me,” you said, ashamed. You recalled drinking a lot of beer, playing pool, and… oh no. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you remembered rambling to John. Did he know what you were implying? Was your childish little secret out already? It hadn’t even been a day. You never were very good at keeping your mouth shut. Much to your embarrassment, you locked eye contact with him, as he swivelled around in his chair to glance at you. You sat up quickly, entranced by his gaze. His eyes quickly flicked over to Freddie, then to Roger, who was sitting on the couch adjacent to you.
“Come on, Rog, let’s go, erm, help Brian!” Freddie said suddenly, shooting up out of his chair, practically dragging Roger across the room to join Brian on the other side of the glass.
“Fred what are you doing? He doesn’t need help. You could’ve at least been a little less obvious…” his voice trailed off as they shut the door behind them, joining Brian. There was a lull, and you found yourself shifting uncomfortably.
“I-“ you both started to speak at the same time, then stopped just as abruptly. You both laughed, as you chewed on your bottom lip nervously.
“You go” he said.
“Look, John, I’m sorry. Really. About last night. I didn’t know what I was saying. Can we just forget about the whole thing?” your heart was racing.
“Y/N, I can’t forget about it. I can’t stop thinking about it. I need to know what you meant, what you were trying to say. What did you mean when you asked me what you should do?” he came to sit down next to you on the couch, intently watching you. You could feel three pairs of eyes also watching the two of you through the glass, which you tried to ignore. Nosy bastards.
He was being so direct, so deliberate, you couldn’t put it off any longer. “I was talking about, um…” you moved closer to him, your throat becoming dry. He didn’t take his eyes off you for a second. “My feelings for you,” you finally said breathlessly, your heart feeling like it was beating out of your chest. This was it; he was going to reject you like all the others. You braced yourself for the inevitable heartbreak. But it never came.
Instead, John moved so quickly you could barely think, pressing his lips against yours sweetly. You inhaled sharply, shocked, before you came to your senses and kissed him back. Hard. You kissed him like you were drowning and he was oxygen. He pulled you close, his hands on your waist, while you reached up and ran your fingers through his silky hair, something you’d been wanting to do for so long. As he softly ran his tongue along your bottom lip in a way that made you melt, you wanted to pinch yourself. Was this really happening? Were you really kissing the man of your dreams? The butterflies in your stomach and the tingling sensation throughout your entire body was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. When you finally pulled away, it was like he’d kissed away all your fears and doubts. They were gone, and all that was left was an indescribable feeling of safety and passion.
He stroked your cheek, smiling fondly at you, his eyes crinkling. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I met you.” His adorable accent was having a particular effect on you it hadn’t before.
You caught his hand, bringing it to your lips to give the top of his hand a quick kiss, before intertwining your fingers and bringing them down between you. “I’ve been wanting to do it since, well, yesterday afternoon…” you giggled. “Why didn’t I realise how incredible you are sooner?”
He shrugged, absentmindedly toying with the collar of your shirt. “I don’t know, but I know I’m not incredible. Just an average guy who really likes an amazing girl. And not just because she brings me food and looks after me,” he chuckled.
“You’re far from average, John Deacon.”
Just in the middle of the most romantic moment of your life thus far, the door swung open, and a chorus of yelling ensued.
“Finally, my darlings! We were so close to locking you in a room until you agreed to get together!”
“It’s about fucking time, you’re perfect for each other!”
“The two of you are sickeningly cute. I hate it.”
You blushed furiously, embarrassed that you’d forgotten they could see your every move. You were speechless, while John only managed, “Were you watching that whole time?”
----------
It was never easy. Queen’s growing success meant more eyes were on them more than ever before, meaning people were more and more curious about their personal lives. You partially understood, but when you read yet another insensitive, invasive headline questioning Freddie’s personal life, you couldn’t see why people wouldn’t just leave them alone. It began to take a toll on all of them, and even you. Multiple tabloids appeared, including photos of you and John walking along, looking miserable about the paparazzi following you. This was twisted of course, and the headlines read things like, ‘Controversial romance between Queen Bassist and assistant on the rocks.’
You despised the media for portraying him as using his position of power, and he despised them for portraying you as a gold digger. But you could always make each other feel better. No matter what, your love for each other prevailed. Every day you counted your blessings for being able to spend your life with your first love, being able to call him your husband and have his children. You never thought you’d be one of the lucky few who stayed with your first love.
It was different to what you expected at the start, when you were falling in love and it was all forehead kisses and butterflies and giggling. You had built up the idea of love so much in your head. Its absence in your life allowed you to blame your unhappiness and discontent on that void in your life. But it didn’t make all of that go away. Despite your hopes, being in love and having a stable relationship didn’t complete you. You were two imperfect people who loved each other as much as they could, fumbling their way through life’s trials and tribulations.
#john deacon#john deacon x reader#john deacon fluff#deaky#deacy#deaky x reader#deacy x reader#deaky fluff#deacy fluff#queen imagine#john deacon imagine#queen fanfic
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beer bottle blues ➳ (one-sided Brian May x OC)
❅ a "spin the bottle" au of @benhaardy 's "pretty girl" fic - Iris is not my OC!
warnings: one or two instances of swearing, suggestive language, smoking and drinking (lol idk)
word count: 1.7k
A/N: I was reading my old fics trying to get ideas and I as I read the last thing I wrote about a year ago, it reminded me a lot of my friend's (tagged above) fic. so to start out writing again, I decided to kinda rewrite the older fic into this newer one as an au of her fic. I mostly wrote this at 1am and I barely edited - enjoy, hopefully it doesn't suck too bad... the title is already bad lmaooo
also, if you don't know who the oc is, her bg, etc., it won't matter too much but if you want to read more of her go to the tagged user above!
→
“Thank you,” Deacy finished his speech with a raise of his glass. He smiled and motioned to Brian, who was due to read next. “And now, if you’ll have Brian May continue on telling you another part of the story.”
Everyone clapped and cheered loudly. Brian took the mic from Deacy and waved to the guests. “Uh, good evening!” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He caught Iris’s eye, then Roger’s, and as the memories flooded into his thoughts, the words left his tongue.
⇜
“Ok darlings, we leave tomorrow! Let’s make the most out of now, shall we?” Freddie exclaimed, his band mates filing in through the door.
“I don't even get why you have to leave. Why not just record back at the old studio?” Iris asked Brian as they walked into the living room. They sat on the couch, and Brian took his hands in hers. “I’m sorry, love. Our deal with that studio ended, and besides, Freddie wants time away for some ‘inner peace’.” He squeezed her hands. “Don't worry - Mary will keep you company. You’ll both be missing our kisses, I’m sure,” he joked.
Iris gave a sad smile. “It's just… I’ll miss you so much.” Brian knew she was sincere, but for a second, she glanced at Roger, and her eyes betrayed her deeper thoughts.
Of course.
Before Brian could comfort her, to prove that he was better than Roger, that he could be everything she ever wanted, Romeo jumped up and nuzzled Iris, who smiled and lovingly stroked his fur, letting go of Brian’s hands. Brian internally sighed. It seemed as if, as hard as he tried, he could never replace Roger for Iris.
He leaned back into the couch, silently contemplating. Deacy ventured into the kitchen and returned with an unopened beer bottle, which Freddie grabbed and downed in a second. After thanking a confused Deacy, Freddie clapped his hands together and sat down elegantly on the floor, placing the bottle down in the middle of the rug. “Come, sit with me, my darlings!” Everyone followed, Iris being last. Brian held her hand - he knew she was worried. Iris just stared at nothing in particular, a blank expression on her face. Brian gently squeezed her hand again, snapping her out of her haze. She looked up at him and smiled, but he could tell something was wrong. She wasn't usually like this - the Iris he knew years ago was loud, sarcastic, badass. The Iris now… she was quiet and sad, and always lost in thought. Whenever she was asked if something was up, she’d dismiss it and say she was “just tired.
But he knew it was probably about Roger.
Brian couldn’t forget about their past feelings for each other - none of their friends could. Roger made her laugh and cry, made her love her life then hate herself again and again. Brian even thought she still loved him.
Iris leaned her head on his shoulder, and Brian made himself push his thoughts away. He had to be strong, even when she wasn't. For Iris. For them.
“Everyone ready?” Freddie asked. “Ok, who wants to go first?”
Deacy raised his hand. “Um, what exactly are we doing?” Freddie looked at him with his “are-you-serious” expression on his face. “What a stupid question. What does it look like?”
Everyone blinked. Freddie sighed. “It’s spin the bottle, you pricks, and whoever you spin on has to spend seven minutes in a room with you. Now I’m asking, who wants to go first?”
No one moved. Roger looked around the circle, and when he saw that no one else volunteered, of course, he did.
“Calm down Rog, the girls here aren't for you,” Freddie joked, to which Roger rolled his eyes at, “but maybe you can teach Deacy a thing or two.”
Avoiding a swat from Deacy, a grinning Freddie passed the bottle to a glaring Roger, who rubbed his hands together before he spun it. He took one last glance at the whole group, then twisted his hand to spin the bottle.
Brian looked at Iris, who was biting her lip in worry. To her relief, it didn’t land on her.
It landed on Brian.
“Shit,” Brian whispered.
Roger looked up at him, wide-eyed. Mary pursed her lips, trying not to laugh. Freddie jokingly winked at Brian, reached over behind Mary, and slapped Roger on the back, grinning. Deacy just smiled and shook his head. “At least it wasn't me!”
Freddie led the two men to the closet under the stairs and slammed the door shut. Once the door clicked closed, everyone burst into laughter.
“Well…” Roger said awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets. Thankfully, though, the closet was a large storage closet that didn’t have much stuff in it. Roger backed up to make more room for the tall Brian, and they both sat on the floor.
“So how’s it been?” Roger asked him, his usual cool expression back on his face. Brian didn't know what to say. He wanted to hate Roger, for causing Iris so much pain, for being so perfect that Iris couldn't give anyone else as much love as she had given him. But alas, there they were, forced to talk in Freddie’s stupid closet for seven whole minutes.
“Brian? You there, mate?” Roger waved a hand in front of Brian’s face to get his attention.
“Oh, uh, sorry.” Brian cleared his thoughts again. “It’s been ok. Iris and I are going to be seperated, with our recording of the new album, though, so that’s a bummer.”
“Aww, you’ll be fine,” Roger exclaimed, patting Brian’s back, his hand lingering there for a moment before coming back down to pull a cigarette out of his pocket. He lit it, placing the other end between his teeth. He leaned back on the wall, chin tilted slightly up as he took a drag. Brian just sat there. “Um… what about you?”
Roger just smiled, small and sly. “Nothing interesting, maybe a few fun nights here and there but other than that, no.” He took another drag.
Brian smiled but shook his head. “Same old Roger,” he teased. He looked back at Roger, whose expression changed. Suddenly Brian regretted what he said. “Sorry. It’s your life. I shouldn't have-” Roger held up his hand, silencing Brian.
To his surprise, Roger wasn't angry. Instead, he had a sad smile on his face, similar to Iris’s earlier. “It’s ok. I know the rest of you think of me that way. And, well you're not wrong.” He let out a long sigh, smoke escaping from his lips. Hesitantly, he continued, “Ever since I broke up with Iris, I’d had nothing. No one. So, I went back to my old habits. Girls, parties, smoking, buncha shit like that.
“I missed her like hell - if I’m being honest, I still do. God, I care for her a lot… A-and I know you’re with her,” he quickly added. “You probably think I hate you, for dating my ex.”
Surprised, Brian started to talk, but Roger shushed him once more. “But… I chose to let her go. I let her go because I knew I couldn't be good for her. I know she hates me. But she’s better off now, right? She’s with you. You're a much better partner for her, someone more reliable, trustworthy, loyal… and I’m glad it was you she decided to love again. So, um, thank you. Take care of her for me. Promise.”
Roger looked up at Brian, with so much sincerity in his eyes that Brian realized he couldn't hate him. He just wanted what was best for Iris. They both did.
Brian opened his mouth to say something, to tell him thank you, that yes, he would take care of Iris, but the door burst open and Freddie walked in. “Alright darlings, it’s been seven minutes!”
Roger got up first, smoothing down his shirt as if the last seven minutes didn't happen. Brian absentmindedly followed suit, lost in thought. During the questionably long walk through Freddie’s house from the closet to the living room, Brian tried to make sense of what Roger had told him. Was it true? Or was Roger just messing with him? Is he really that big of an asshole? To admit that he still cared for his ex, but also made Brian promise to take care for her instead of him, made Brian feel even more guilty for hating Roger.
Then as quickly as he processed everything, they were back in the living room.
Brian’s eyes immediately darted to Iris, who was staring at something behind him.
It was, of course, Roger.
Trying to forget everything running through his head, Brian sat down next to Iris. He managed to whisper a “Hey, love,” before Freddie’s voice filled the room once more, picking Deacy as the bottle’s next victim.
As Deacy span the bottle, Brian looked back at Roger, who was also looking at Iris, pain visible in his eyes. Suddenly, Roger looked up at Brian, and after a long, seeming endless sad gaze, looked back down at the bottle.
And Brian knew what he had to do.
⇝
Brian snapped back to the present. He felt painful tears in his eyes, but blinked them away quickly as he told the audience about the party and how Iris and Roger fell in love again after years of being apart, not even mentioning his history with Iris.
Because he didn’t want them to know the truth. An important turn in their lives - maybe even the most important - that led to everything that happened after that party. As he finished, handed Freddie the mic, and sat down, he decided to reflect on what really happened.
⇜
Not knowing that Brian was observing her, Iris kept glancing at Roger fricken Taylor, the person who captured and broke Iris’s heart, leaving Brian with small remnants of what was once there.
She still loved him. He could see it in her eyes. She looked like a teenager again. Iris Marchesi, the broken girl whose first love left her behind. Iris Marchesi, whose feelings never faded away.
And neither did Roger’s.
And that’s something Roger would have to tell her himself.
But for that to happen, Brian would have to let go of Iris.
And because he loved her, more than she would ever love him, he did.
He let her go.
←
A/N: yikes um i'm sorry if this sucked and barely had a plot pls don’t bully me
#angst#borhap#bohemian rhapsody#bohemian rapsody movie#brian may#roger taylor#freddie mercury#queen#queen band#john deacon#deacy#deaky#omg i hate this#sorry#i apologize in advance#brian may x oc#roger x oc#brian may fanfiction#queen fanfiction#roger taylor fanfic#roger taylor fanfiction#queen angst#brian may angst#roger taylor angst
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