I’m so excited to share Froger Love’s first event! End of Summer Queen Bingo is a fun and easy event for writers and artists. It will run from June-August, and new bingo cards will be provided at the beginning of each month. All ships are welcome.
All you have to do is create fics and art based on our works, submit your works to our ao3 collection End of Summer Queen Bingo (EOS2023), and #froger love.
Flowers and Pianos Ch3 (Roger Taylor X Greta Stirling) (OC)
featuring, John Deacon and his new OC, Don’t @ me I spell it Deacy.
A/N: And here we see, Deacy is now a character and has an OC of his own. They won’t be an upfront part of the story but they are still there and I love them. I know I wrote less for Deacy but that’s cause he’s not my main character oof don’t fight me Greta is my girl and she gets the attention.
Editing isn’t real, also tumblr is being weird with links so I will link ch2 on this a bit later.
Warning: Swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex
Word count: 3469 (It’s a long one bois)
@goodoldfashionlovergirl Here’s your chapter darling, I hope you like how I wrote you <3
John
It was simple really, John was not used to being in a situation of these sorts. It wasn’t like him at all. It was more Roger’s area of expertise, waking up with lingering feelings for someone he’d just met. He wouldn’t think of speaking of it to anyone, even though weeks had passed and it had still been on his mind.
She was small next to him when they’d stood together over the piano in the mansion. He stood about a foot taller than her and she’d had to stand up on the piano bench to kiss him. She’d had short locks that curled around her ears, even though parts of it fell messily around the shape of her face. She’d joked that she hated how it looked until he brushed a strand of it behind her ear and told her he thought it was beautiful. Her fingers absently played notes on the piano as they spoke like her hands needed something to do. Even absently it was still beautiful, the only coherent sounds echoing through the room of drunken musicians.
It had been weeks and she was still imprinted on his mind.
They hadn’t slept together, they’d simply talked so long that they’d fallen asleep in each others arms well before the sun ever came up. So why was it, John couldn’t stop thinking, that he couldn’t get her out of his head.
He could still feel her head on his chest as the nodded off as the party died down. Everyone had been too drunk to do much but they had hardly drank at all. A little tipsy perhaps but they had been to wrapped up in each others words to pay much attention to the alcohol. He kept telling himself that it was nothing, that she wouldn’t even remember him. But it had been weeks and she was still burned into his mind.
The reality was that he knew exactly why. Empty promises aren’t so empty when it came to him.
“What if we find a way to take you and your band with us?”
“John we’re on completely different schedules it would be impossible.”
“But if we could, if we could find a way, would you want to stay with me. I mean..you know what I mean.”
“Than consider me yours.”
…Unless they couldn’t.
He was quite frankly at a loss for how to deal with anything that was going on. He’d considered consulting Roger but he had decided the way they ran their…affairs…were rather different.
He found himself stuck in his head quite a bit as a result. Still able to play, still able to act normal for the most part, but she was always in the back of his mind. And he was always subconsciously thinking of ways that he could make sure they saw each other again. Many times he cursed himself for entertaining the thought that she’d even remember him. He knew he always got a little too emotionally invested in things, the boys told him, girls he’d hooked up with told him, and he’d more times than he’d like to count, told himself.
“Deacy! If you could please pay a little bit more attention I think we’d all greatly appreciate it. We do need our bass player if we are going to do this show.” John snapped out of thought at the sound of Roger’s shrill voice and hurriedly set about finishing his soundcheck.
“Come on Deacy, you know you can actually talk about your problems instead of keeping them in right?” Roger half shouted to John as they walked back to their hotel rooms together. It was the first time he’d brought up even the thought that John was acting different.
“Who says I have anything I need to talk about?” John tried to speed ahead of Roger when he saw his room down the hallway.
“Literally everything about you right now screams ‘I need to talk about my problems but I’m too stubborn to do so’ and that’s enough for me.” Roger was almost running now, trying to keep up.
They’d reached his door, but before John had the chance to unlock it Roger planted a hand on his shoulder and turned him so they were face to face. “It’s nothing for you to worry about Roger, really it’s only a rather meaningless matter and there’s no use concerning yourself over it or me.”
“Oh so we’re getting into extreme proper English now? Deacy come on what is it? We’re all a little worried, you’ve been quieter than usual.”
“I’m always quiet Roger.” The look Roger gave to this was one that clearly stated something along the lines of ‘I refuse to leave you alone until you tell me everything.’ And John conceded to tell him the truth. He turned his back to Roger to unlock the hotel rooms door and motioned for him to come in. He shut the door behind them with his back, leaning his head back to hit the door. “I met a girl and I haven’t been able to get her out of my head in weeks and I’ll probably never see her again. That what you want to hear Rog?” He had to admit, finally saying it out loud felt good, like a weight off of his chest. Well a little bit of it anyway.
“That’s what you’re so fucked up about? Did you sleep with her? Cause Deacs I’ve got some news for you if that’s the problem.” Before Roger could finish his sentence, which John knew would end in ‘just sleep with someone else and you’ll be fine’ he cut him off.
“I didn’t sleep with her Roger so you can throw whatever your solution is right out the door.”
It went silent for a moment and John was sure that Roger was just trying to come up with some kind of joke to make or piece of crap advice that wouldn’t help. He was about to tell him to leave, that he decided he didn’t want to talk about it after all when Roger piped up with something far more normal than expected.
“Where did you meet her?” Something normal from anyone else but not words that anyone would hear from Roger much. It was a rapid change of pace as well. John was a little shocked that what came out of his friends mouth wasn’t some kind of joke. It was a genuine curiosity by his tone. With something else in it that wasn’t a usual tone used by the blond. Wistful?
“Bowie’s album release party a few weeks ago. Same night you disappeared for almost a day. We’ve met her band before. ‘Fireside.’”
“Deacy, I need you to tell me her name.” Roger spoke fast and abrupt as if the name had made him panic but John didn’t have an inkling as to why. He looked over to Roger and saw that his friends eyes were wide and practically desperate. For good reason John was confused, seeing as he had no reason to think Roger was connected to the situation in the least.
“Samantha, Samantha Eliot.”
Roger let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”
“Rog? What are you talking about?
“Because I disappeared that night with a girl, and that-that’s her band too.”
John let out a chuckle and slid to the floor with his back still pressed against the door. “And why exactly would you care if it was the same girl, it’s not like you’ve ever cared about things like that before.”
“Because, she’s different.” John gave him a look and Roger laughed in response. “God I never thought that sentence would come out of my mouth.”
“Was it the redhead who plays bass? Greta?” Roger nodded mournfully. John’s observations from before had been correct than, he thought. Something was off with the way Roger had been talking when John brought up a girl and this was why. He’d fallen too, or as close to falling as he thought Roger could get. They went quiet as they both thought through their own night at that party, both reopening the still not healed wounds that the night had left.
“I promised her I wouldn’t be with anyone else if we could be together. She was going to come with us, we were going to find some way and now it’s been weeks and there’s no way in hell that I’ll see her.” Roger paused and studied his hands. “Or that you’ll see Sam.”
“I told her that if we could find a way to get them on tour we could be together too. How bloody dumb are we. We know it doesn’t work to try and be with other bands. What the hell was I thinking?”
“Well if it was anyone else I’d say you were thinking with your cock but it doesn’t seem like you were. And I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this from me again but neither was I.” Roger got to his feet after a moment and offered a hand to John, helping himself up from his place on the floor. “C’mon, let’s get a fucking drink.”
The boys made there way out the door before Roger stopped for a moment. “We’ll find them Deacy. If anyone can fuck you up enough to be like this they’re worth it. We’ll get them back.”
Greta
Greta sat in front of the window to the porch that attached to their room. They’d not drawn the curtains to let the sun in and it left her hair bathed in the sunlight, making the red glint or darken with every turn of her head. Her leg was thrown over the arm of her chair with the other tucked under her. Absently she strummed at her guitar losing herself in the chords and in the white walls that she had been staring at on and off for days.
Samantha watched her from her spot on the bed. She’d found the darkest place in the room she could and had tangled herself up in all the blankets to be found. Her glasses were left on even though they were rather uncomfortably being pushed askew on her face by the pillows she lay on. It was worth it though, she wanted to get the image of Greta in her mind enough to be able to paint it later.
It was the first day off that the band had had in weeks and it was a very welcome break. Sam and Greta had hardly had time to talk to each other, they were either at a show, at an interview or sleeping when they had the time.
“You look like a fairy sometimes. Almost makes me jealous.” Sam let slip after seeing Greta toss her hair out of her face with one elegant move.
Greta chuckled and turned her head to where Sam now sat with her sketchbook in hand. “You’ve been so quiet I almost forgot you were there. Also that’s bullshit don’t be jealous of me when you’re over there looking like a damn princess.”
“Alright fine, I’ll never say I’m jealous as long as you stay right there and don’t move so I can draw you. Lighting is perfect.” Greta rolled her eyes but only to joke with her, she really didn’t mind at all.
Sam didn’t usually talk while she worked, at least when she was first starting out and it allowed Greta’s thoughts to slip back where they had been before.
Onto him.
Weeks had gone by and she was still caught up on him. She wasn’t exactly surprised but it was an odd feeling for her. She’d never been so struck by a person before, not even Sarah. That was the other part that she found odd. When Sarah cheated on her, Greta had not been able to get over it, the images were burned into her brain and it hurt to even think about her. Now? Nothing. It was as if any shred of feelings she had had for Sarah had blown out the window the moment a drunken blond Roger Taylor had stumbled into her life, literally.
The trouble was that there was nothing in her that wanted to forget about him. It wasn’t normal for her, when everyone else she’d ever hooked up with easily meant nothing within the next day. It bothered her to know that this was the first time she may have had some kind of real feelings for anyone and he was gone. The promise had been kept though, by her at least. She’d been with no one else, not looked at anyone else, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she would be able to find him and that they could be together.
A sickening thought crept into her head that made her question everything she’d thought over the past weeks. ‘All of this is based on one god damn night where I was too drunk to stop myself.’ It made her sick to think of, because it was a likely answer, but she refused to let the thought linger long. She’d had plenty of drunk sex before. None of it ended with weeks of still wanting them.
“Greta! Snap out of it sunshine you’ve hardly breathed in ten minutes.” Greta impulsively jumped at the loud exclamation, then realized that she really hadn’t moved in a while. Her fingers were still clamped hard on the chords of her guitar.
“Sorry love, I was just thinking about something.”
Sam hummed and continued to draw letting the quiet settled back over them, only a subtle strum of a guitar could be heard occasionally.
“Sams? Could you draw flowers in my hair?” It came out sadder than she wanted it to, apparently she wasn’t going to be very good at hiding her tone of voice when she brought up things that reminded her of Roger. Flowers…. It was such a small thing. He loved them, he’d told her and it was what she’d wanted to call him. To tease him a little she supposed but also because it had been rather endearing, to hear this boy drunkenly gush about how pretty he thought flowers were.
“Could work I think.” Sam looked up from her drawing to see tears brimming on her friends eyes, not an often occurrence. “What’s wrong, you okay?”
“Honestly? No Sams I’m not, I’m not even though I should be because it shouldn’t matter.” She knew she was babbling again but she couldn’t help it, but her tears were starting to choke her and she cried through her next words. “ It shouldn’t fucking matter and it still does and I hate myself for it. I hate it. I don’t want to miss him. Why do I miss him?” She dug her palms into her eyes trying in vain to stop crying.
“He? I thought it would be about Sarah.” Sam said softly as she set her sketch down and came to sit in front of Greta. The redhead scoffed and wiped her tears away the best she could when they were still flowing down her face. Sam was the only person who’d known about Sarah, the only person who could be trusted with that secret. In fact she was the only person Greta knew who she could trust with any secret of the sort.
“Oh fuck Sarah! She’s not worth shit. I stopped crying for her as soon as I…” Greta didn’t want to say it outloud, she felt like it was admitting some kind of weakness, but she needed to tell someone or she’d explode. “As soon as I kissed him Sarah didn’t matter.” She got quiet as she tried to stop crying. “No one else matters Sam.”
Samantha knew that there was nothing she could say yet, she needed to let her cry. She did however reach a hand up and intertwined their fingers. It wasn’t her usual way of showing love but it was what Greta responded to. Earlier than she thought, Greta spoke up, her voice still wavering a bit. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring it up.”
“When did it happen?”
“Bowie’s party a few weeks ago.” By now she’d regained her normal poised aura. But it was compromised by the glint that was still left in her eyes from crying. “Anyway now that I’ve gotten that out.” Within a moment she’d flicked her hair out of her face and turned on a concerned smile, it was what she hid behind. “What’s been going on with you because I know something’s off.” She gave Sam’s hand a final squeeze and then withdrew her own to go back to the fret of her guitar.
“Funny you should mention both of those things. Guess both of our lives got fucked up on the same day. Now tell me who it was or I won’t tell you who mine was.” Sam cocked an eyebrow up at her friend trying to get her to breakdown her little wall of concern. “Greta come on it’s me you don’t have to pretend it didn’t matter if it did. Now who was it?”
“You’ve met him before, you didn’t like him.” A smile tugged at the side of her mouth, anticipating the reaction this would get from Sam. “He’s from Queen.” Sam’s mouth fell open.
“Greta Stirling! You did not hook up with Roger fucking Taylor! No. No way in hell did you fuck that absolute ass. What were you thinking?” Maybe the exclamation would have made more of an impact if she hadn’t started laughing halfway through it.
“I did.” Greta chuckled and gave a little over dramatic bow. “And yes I got attached don’t yell at me it just happened. Now are you gonna tell me who your mystery man was.”
“Greta you’re not going to believe this we got the same band in the same night. It was John. The quiet one that you talked to when we met them.”
Both girls sat a little in shock for a few moments. Greta’s mind was racing fast now, she had a reason now. To get back to him. She’d do anything for Sam and if Sam wanted to be with John….
“Hold on. Sams you’ve never hooked up with anyone in your life. Did you fuck him?”
“What? No I wouldn’t do that you know me better than that Greta.”
“So this is based off what? You guys talking for a single night? Not judging just wondering.” A look almost of guilt seemed to take over Sam’s face and Greta immediately felt awful. “Hey, really I’m just asking I know it’s different for you. What happened with you guys?”
“I was playing piano in the house cause the crowd was giving anxiety you know? And he just came over and was watching me play. And he just started talking to me and I don’t know at first his voice irked me but then we kept talking and it just became the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. He’s so smart Greta it’s insane. And he’s got such a dorky laugh but it’s adorable. I don’t even know what to say about him besides he’s just….” As she listened Greta was absolutely enchanted by her friend gushing over this boy. It didn’t happen often. It managed to make her smile until her cheeks hurt and she laughed a little when Sam couldn’t find the proper words to describe him.
“Darling it sounds like you fell. Can’t say I don’t approve he’s a sweetheart.”
“I don’t know. I just…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it and I feel so dumb for thinking he remembers me but he said if we could find a way he’d want me to stay with him.”
Greta reached out and stroked her friends cheek, giving it a playful swat. “You’re not dumb Sams. You just found someone.” She looked away and out the window where the sun was still beaming through. “Roger promised me that he’d stay with me to. But it’s ridiculous to think he kept it when we’ve been away.”
Sam got to her feet and offered Greta a hand. Greta took it and put her guitar down so she could get up. “C’mon, we’re gonna go talk to the boys about the rest of our tour schedule.” This was the most determined Greta had ever heard Sam sound.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t like him but if some boy can make you cry and not want to be with anyone else you should stay with him. That’s the most real unguarded emotion I’ve ever seen from you and it was beautiful. You’re gonna find him. And maybe Deacy remembers me. We’re going to find them.”
