#queen john

I was trying to write the albums in chronological order but it's off of memory so I don't know if it's fully accurate.

Fluff 1: “Go with me?” “As long as you hold my hand.”

Jitters. Your body was full of them. 

Your appointment was for this evening, but you couldn’t think about anything else. You tried to clean your kitchen, but you honestly kept looking at your plain arm, smiling lightly and then sitting down to gaze outside the window. 

Three weeks ago, like any other Friday would go, you had found yourself piss-drunk on Freddie’s couch, your head in Brian’s lap. You were complaining to the boys about how much your parents try to control your life all the time.

Freddie had downed his umpteenth glass of beer, slammed it down onto the floor and crawled over to you. He had put his hands on your thigh, whispering like it was a big secret, “Just be a rebel.”

“Huh?”

“Do something rebellious!” He said with a flick of the wrist, leaning back on his other arm. 

You could see John shake his head from the corner of your eye. His hair swayed around him, lips pursed in distaste. There was still a softness to his features. 

“Should I not, John?” You turned on your side, Brian’s arm shifting from your shoulder to your back. 

“Y/N,” Brian butted in politely, “If it’s what you want to do, then you should. Just make sure you’re being safe, kind and respectful.” 

Freddie groaned, closing his eyes momentarily, “No. You have to do it. Come on.”

“What do I do, then?” 

“Get a tattoo.”

Roger had laughed loudly at Freddie’s suggestion, unhelpfully adding that even though all of you were drunk, he was going to remember this in the morning and remind you. Which he had done. 

And this was where it had gotten you. Sitting on top of your dining table, your hand rubbing the area of your other arm — where you had decided to get tattooed. You heard John come out of the bathroom, rubbing his hands on the sides of his legs. 

“Feeling okay?” He asked.

“Why are you letting me do this?” You whined, slumping. 

“Because,” John came over to the table, putting his hands on either side of your body, leaning in just a little bit too close. “You wanted to be a rebel.”

“Deaks.” Another whine, one which made John reach for your hands and pull you off the table. 

He brought over a glass of water to you, watching as you sipped in an effort to calm your nerves. “Y/N,” he began, “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” His concerned expression didn’t do much to hide the gleam in his eyes. Somewhere, you knew, he wanted to see if you would go through with it.

“I’m going to do it.” You announced in your tiny kitchen, putting your hands on John’s shoulders, his hair tickling your fingers.

“Yeah?” John smiled.

“I’m going to do it.” You smiled, pulling your hands of John’s shoulders. You wanted to keep them there for longer, maybe slip the tips of your fingers into his hair. You giggled lightly, running a hand over your shirt to smooth it out. 

After running around your house for a few more minutes, you finally picked up your bag, John put on his jacket, and you opened your front door. 

You let out a deep breath, uttering your friend’s name softly. “John?”

“Yes, lovie?”

“Will you go with me?”

John didn’t think you were going to ask. He wanted you to. He wanted to spend all his time with you. He wanted to be there for you. His face broke out into a smile at your request, his body shaking ever so slightly. “As long as you let me hold your hand,” he said confidently, bringing his finger up to boop your nose.

“You don’t know how much I’m going to need to do that.”

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Me watching "Road to El Dorado" + Listening to Queen's songs = This whole mess (I have hard feelings about this being my first contribution to this community)

Prompt:

I am Roger Taylor’s Secret Daughter. Him, nor I, knew anything of the sort. My mother was a short term girlfriend for him but it ended in something much more serious, me.

Several years later, just as the Rock Legend, Freddie Mercury, had died, my mother contacted Roger and told him and me the truth. It took a little getting used to at first considering Roger has other family and children. We’ve only met on two occasions, the first time he found out which was before Freddie’s death, and on my 18th birthday, last week.

Months after Freddie’s tragic end, there’s the tribute concert, one of the last times that John Deacon would ever play for Queen. I am invited along by my father to honour his friend as a sort of birthday present sort of not.

Deacy is distraught by Freddie’s death of course but he seems lost. When he sees me, a fresh face, something comes over him and he does something he never usually would. And it would certainly not be expected from him as he seduces me.

These probably aren't even my top 10, I can't decide, these are just some of my faves.