roger x reader out of time epilogue
plot: reader accidentallyΒ travels back in time to the 1970s and bumps into queen in their earlier days.
the last official part of out of time! so, this is going to be an extremely different perspective from what youβre used to reading, some of you might even be a bit confused, but itβll make sense, donβt think too much of it. youβll understand further as you read. this was originally going to be the last chapter, but due to the shift in perspective, i decided to keep it as the epilogue! this is 7,800 words, but itβs a pretty fast read, so get comfy yet again.
as always, if you want to stay updated in the process of publishing this story as a book, sign up on my newsletter here.Β
i really hope this satisfies and quenches some of your thirst. ive received an amazing outpouringΒ of love in ending this story, and i would love to hear what you think of this epilogue as well! so send in an ask/comment/reblog if you like it so more people can read this story!Β
here is the OOT playlist, if you wanna listen to music while reading this!
somebody asked me if iβve ever cried while writing any parts of my story, well let me tell you, i cried at the end of this one.Β
have a great read :)
You took in another sip of your drink, gulping as the familiar liquid made its way from your lips to your throat. It was warm, it felt good, and it didnβt burn your throat even once. The music around you was glaring, raving, and it was as if the crowd was pulsating along with the beats. You didnβt like what they were playing, it was so loud, and it felt like you could hear your heart beat in your ear. You didnβt have a choice but to sway along with it, you would seem too pretentious if you plugged into your earphones and chose to heard something far more refined.
You took in a deep breath, one good thing about being by the window was that you could actually breathe fresh air. You didnβt have to be stuck amongst sweaty teenagers, and breathing smoke and god knows what else was in the air at this party. You would have the right mind to think they drugged the air, if the way everybody seemed so absorbed was any indication. You felt good though.
Your phone buzzed, and you took it out of your pocket to catch a notification from your dad.
15th February, 2019
Dad: Hi, sweetheart. Happy 23rdh Birthday again, even though itβs almost over. Your mum wanted to know if youβd be coming over on the weekend, she wants to take us to your grandmaβs place.
You turned twenty-three years old today, and coming to a frat house party where you knew next to nobody was not the top of your list for ways of celebrating it. You would have preferred staking out with your best friend and some McDonalds in your car any day.
Speaking of your best friend, she was nowhere to be found. Sheβd run off a few minutes ago to talk to a cute boy she spotted, and under other circumstances you would be worried for her, but you knew better than anybody that she could take care of herself.
Youβd met her in the common university cafeteria during lunch. You were seeking solace there after your examination had gone terribly wrong and she was sitting there, sketching. With her purple sunglasses and her colored hair, she stood out to you. Youβd taken a peek at her notebook and the beautiful designs and instantly known she was in the fashion wing of college. You didnβt have an artistic bone in your body, and so you were highly impressed by her. After that day, you two got along extremely well and it was her idea to drag you out to this college party. You barely knew any seniors and you wished you could make as much effort as she did in talking to people.
You looked down at your glass, and to your dismay, there wasnβt any alcohol left. Youβd finished your drink and you turned to look to the refill table. Teenagers crowded around it, but you desperately needed a drink. Having a drink in your hands, and sipping it gave you something to do and then you didnβt feel so anxious anymore. It was either that, or scrolling through your phone. You hated having empty hands at a party.
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