Summary: Ash Taupin flies Millie Taylor to LA as a surprise for Queen, but before the band arrives, they catch up over coffee.
A/N: this was meant to be a much longer fic but also i think it makes a nice moment from my drafts. @misscharlottelee 's Millie Deacon was the first queen OC i loved beside my own chaotic gal. just something short and sweet for an AU of these two, also ngl hope this doesn't awaken anything in me (read: make me want to write too much about queen again)
Ash finds herself yawning over coffee with Millie when Queen finally gets to the LA leg of their latest international tour. She's already been here a week, had flown over ahead of schedule, trusting her team to keep the costumes in order and in check, so she didn't have to fit all the meetings people had wanted with her into the three days they were in town before the next stop.
"You okay there?" Millie's smile is kind and fond across the table, and her eyes are alert, hands wrapped around her mug of tea.
"LA exhausts me," Ash says flatly, managing to practically inhale half of her black coffee in one go, which only has Millie wrinkling her nose, "how about you, Millie-Lou? The hotel nice?"
"Perfectly lovely, of course," though she hesitates, looks a little put upon, "but you know you didn't need to -"
"If it weren't me it would'a been Freds, or Rog himself; 's no skin off my nose, th' boys 'll tell ya he's been missing you like crazy," Ash's tired demeanour lightens for a moment, and she looks over to where Millie and Roger's daughter, Louisa, was sipping her own, much cooler, much weaker cup of tea, glancing at her mother every so often, "and that li'l bug of yours," she says fondly, and Louisa, who had been on her best behaviour, sitting calm and quietly, finally sensing she's being spoken about, looks to Ash with wide, blue eyes, but she doesn't say anything, just looks to her mother as if to ask what was going on.
"We miss him too, don't we?" Millie smiles down at her daughter, who beams and nods, turning back to Ash.
"Dad's so cool, but he's so far away and now I'm really excited to see him!" She announced, every bit as chipper as her parents, bouncing a little in her seat.
"And...?" Millie prompted, stroking her daughter's hair softly. Louisa looks to her for a moment, confused, "th..."
"Thank you, Aunty Rocket!" Positively beaming, she looks back to Ash as she finally understands what her mother's prompting.
"You're very welcome, bug," Ash tells her sincerely, casting an adoring look to Millie, the same she gave every time Louisa called her Aunty. Like Freddie, she'd been given the familial title as an honour, which she wore with pride.
"How Elton's new album coming along?" Millie enquires, while Lousia, since the seal of quiet had been broken, was now using her little hands to search her mother's pockets and purse for drawing equipment.
"What I can gather from Bern's excited phone calls, it's going well," Ash says, everything about her relaxing, softening at the mere mention of her husband, smiling into her coffee, "I would have brought him out here too, but you know how album making goes; didn't want to disturb the workflow," she says, a little forlorn, and Millie reaches out to place a hand on one of Ash's that was still holding her cup, a moment of kind warmth and understanding, how hard it is to love someone when the two of you never seem to be in the same place for long.
"Miss Lou -" the moment breaks, however, as Louisa tries to discretely slide from her chair and beneath the table, and her mother's voice turns stern.
"I can't find a pen," Louisa said, like it was a proper explanation, sounding a little guilty, but Millie says her name again, and Louisa wriggles back into her seat.
"You can't wander off on your own," Millie admonished, though there was care in her voice and Louisa made a resigned grumble of understanding, put out. Ash, however, chuckles, her momentary sadness forgotten as she reaches into her own bag by her side, pulling out a travel-sized sketch book and a few pencils of varying colours.
"All you gotta do is ask, Bug."
"Exactly," Millie gives her daughter's hair a little ruffle, "you know until you're old enough to wander 'round on your own, you can always ask an adult you trust and we'll be able to help you."
"When am I old enough?" Louisa looks doubtfully at her mother, holding a bright green pencil above a new page of the sketchbook.
"When you're a thousand," Ash teased, to which the little girl scowled.
"We'll talk about it with dad," Millie corrected, trying to repress her own smile so her daughter knew she was taking this seriously.
The girls catch up over brunch, with Louisa excitedly making nonsense drawings and eating too many pancakes for her little tummy beside them, and as they're heading back to the hotel before lunch, Louisa's holding Millie's hand, and clutching her various drawings in the other, complaining of a stomach ache, all the while yawning, the hearty meal having made her sleepy.
"You know Doug Weston's asked me to come to the Troubadour for lunch," Ash mentions casually, "he loves you, I'm sure he'd love to have you come say hi." Beside her, Millie hesitates, looking down at her grumpy, sleepy daughter.
"I don't think the Troubadour's somewhere Lou should be just yet," Millie hesitates, "it would be different if the band were here already, but I don't have anyone to watch her," and Ash nods with understanding.
"I brought Audrey with me," she points out, and Millie's expression immediately turns considering; Ash's personal assistant Audrey had proven herself to a kind and reliable babysitter for Millie in the past, and if there was anyone outside of Millie's family or found-family, she'd trust Audrey.
"We can ask her," Ash offered, "if she says no, completely understandable, but if she'd happy to watch the Bug for a bit, I'd love to have you at lunch, and you can come back at any time," it was a solid and seriously tempting offer, and finally Millie conceded with a grin, quietly excited to get the afternoon to spend with Ash in one of the few placed they'd frequented in LA in their younger days.
Audrey lights up when they knock on her hotel door, apologising - for asking her a favour, for Louisa being in a mood, for not being able to bring her to the Troubadour -
"Don't worry about it, I'd just be hanging around you like an awkward little fly; I know you all say relax, but it's Doug Weston, you know? I can't relax!" She laughs, even as Louisa has stormed past her, as much as she can considering how adorable she is, and clambered onto the bed. Audrey was a stellar personal assistant, and when she was comfortable she was easy-going and adaptable, but she also happened to be the single most socially anxious person Ash had ever met, and appreciated that her job usually had very little non-professional socialising involved.
"I'm not sleepy," Louisa calls from the bed, laying as stiff as a board on top of the covers, on her side, with her arms crossed tightly.
"Alrighty, Miss Lou," Audrey responds over her shoulder, smiling bright, "well there's a channel here that's all cartoons that I think you're gonna like."
"She's gonna be asleep in fifteen minutes," Millie said fondly, gazing over at her still-stubborn daughter.
"If anything happens -" Ash turns to Audrey, who gives a bright smile.
"I've got the number for Doug's office, I'll call immediately; anything else? Do you know how long you're planning on being out?"
To this, both Ash and Millie hesitate, looking at each other.
"I, uh, I actually am not quite sure," Millie admits apologetically, but Audrey waves her off easily.
"If you plan on staying out past her dinner time, just give me a call, or pop in if you wanna recommend what she have, but if room service is okay and you aren't too worried, then Miss Lou and I should be all good. We won't head anywhere; I plan on doing some paperwork if she gets to sleep, but there's some good cartoons they're playing, I caught a rerun of The Jetsons not long ago -"
"Jetsons!" Louisa cheers from where she's already secured herself a prime position in the middle of the neatly-made bed closest to the TV.
"Don't know what I'm worried about," Millie says faintly, "she's taking a holiday from her holiday here," shaking her head with fond amusement, she thanks Audrey again.
"Love you mum, be good!" Louisa calls without looking away from the TV, to which all three women at the door collectively aw.
"Will do, Lou, and you be good for Audrey," Millie calls fondly, "love you."
And as they're shutting the door, Louisa is already beginning to yawn.
This is my first Taron Egerton fic, I hope you like it!! This is for the bunch of people who have been requesting me to do something about Taron. Most of them were anon and requested some alphabets. I don’t think I can do that about him, becuase that’s what I find most difficult.
Plot: you find something that you didn’t mean to in Taron’s tablet, and you wish it had been porn.
It started accidentally. You were working and needed to look something up, but your computer was maxed out running a new program, so you picked up Taron’s tablet which he had left on the table. He had never been particularly previous about keeping his stuff to himself – in fact, he had configured your fingerprints to let you in – so you helped yourself without asking and opened his browser.
A white with golden ornaments webpage greeted you. It took you a while to understand what was it about, because it was early in the morning and because you didn’t read what the website was about. Once you squinted your eyes and looked thoughtfully at the title, you almost passed out.
Taron had been reading about weddings. Specifically, top ten places to have a wedding and impress your girlfriend.
Eyes widening, you dropped the device on the table with a clatter. Hearing Taron bustling in the small kitchen of your cute vintage aparment, you shoved it back in place awkwardly, and forced your eyes back to your own flickering screen. Suddenly, friction coefficients didn’t seem so important.
“Y/N?”
You jumped out of your skin and turned to see him sticking his head around the door. The sight would have been funny if you weren’t so nervous; he was wearing a hairnet and a glittering apron. He gave you a slightly concerned frown.
“Are you… alright?”
“Yeah! Fine, thanks. Sorry, just… working” you chuckled, pressing random keys on the computer. “I was just concentrating”
“I bet it’s on something really smart” he teased, and you gave him your most real smile. “Sorry for startling you”
“No, it’s okay. Fine. I’m fine!” your voice sounded unnaturally high-pitched even for you.
Taron’s concern didn’t seem to entirely abate, extremely reasonably given your babbling, so he stepped closer and dropped a gentle hand on your shoulder. Despite everything, something about him was always so perfectly solid, comforting and safe that you found yourself breathing almost normally again.
You turned up to him and smiled; not even that forced. Taron liked to get into his characters in the most strange ways, so maybe he had just been looking it up for his new film. You repeated that to yourself at least twenty times in your head, while he massaged your shoulder in a gentle way. There was no way you had just discovered him looking up ideas for your weeding.
“I’m okay, really” you assured him. You gripped his wrist with your hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Just a bit stressed over the project”
“The astrophysics one?”
You had been working on a new project for college for a few months, wanting to be as perfect as possible. It was your last work before graduating on your master, and if everything went well, you would be able to get a real job in a few weeks. Taron had been very helpful on the way, taking care of you when you forgot and being there in every moment.
Nodding, you looked back to the screen.
“It’s almost over, just a few more details”
“You’re gonna do amazing” he bent down and kissed your cheek. “And I’m gonna brag so hard about my physic girlfriend”
Girlfriend. Not wife, or at least not yet. Muttering a quick ‘love you’, Taron turned back to the kitchen; and you gave the forgotten tablet a side glance, checking that it hadn’t been all a dream.
“Okay, what is with you?” Betty, your best friend, demanded the next day. “I’ve just told you three times what happened last night with Brian, and you still have to give the talk about going back with my ex. And I don’t buy that you suddenly like him. ”
You shook your head and finally looked over your friend. She was visiting you for a few hours, and was updating you from life back at home while you two had coffee in a beautiful café you found when you arrived. Betty lived back home, working in a supermarket, while you had to travel away to be with Taron. So it was a rare occasion, to see both of you together, and you were completely wasting it because you couldn’t stop thinking about the tablet.
You sighed, and tried to remember what she was talking about as you looked down to your coffee. It had a weird shape made on the top – and it wasn’t as if you only though about it, but it looked like a ring to you.
“He’s an asshole, I don’t know why you go out with him. But I love you anyway” you repeated like a mantra. Everytime you met, Betty had gone back to his ex-boyfriend, a boy who didn’t deserve her, so you thought it wouldn’t be very hard to keep the conversation going.
It didn’t go that well.
“I’ve just told you that I’ve blocked him, so I’m gonna assume you haven’t heard an inch of what I’ve said” she rubbed a tired hand over the bridge of her nose, and finally looked at you with a raised brow. “All right, what has he done now?”
You blinked at Betty. It was disingenuous to pretend you didn’t know who ‘he’ was meant to be, but you found her easy perception disconcerting.
“Nothing!” you shook your hand, and sighed, because lying to a spy would be as useful as watering an artificial plant. “Not really – I just, borrowed his table and accidentally saw some of his browsing history.”
Betty’s eyebrows rose higher than you thought possible, and you sighed. She wasn’t the person you wanted to talk about that; actually, you didn’t want to talk about it to anyone. But you had the impression that if you didn’t you would just explode. Before you had time to explain, Betty talked.
“Looking at porn is normal in –“
“Not that!” you interrupted her. “He was reading stuff… about weddings. And I know it’s probably nothing and just some background reading for his new movie – although I thought it was about spies. But I was kinda shocked? And for some reason my brain won’t shut off and keeps thinking about it.”
Betty snorted with laughter and then just kept laughing. You grumbled and turned back to your coffee, blush on your cheeks.
“Your life is turning into the worst sort of romantic comedy” she laughed. “Come on, what did you expect? We’re talking about Taron! The boy asked you to move in the third month of your relationship! What will be the next chapter? Kids? Retirement plans? I bet he has – “
“Shut up” you mumbled.
It was true that your relationship with the actor had been… rushed. You had met him through a mutual friend, and within the first month of talking, he had already invited you on a date. He was perfect in every way you could imagine; attentive, funny, handsome, gentle and affectionate. He always put you first when it came to decisions, and you were sure he would drop everything if he asked you to do so.
Thoughts about Taron plagued your mind and you smiled sheepishly.
“Then ask him” Betty shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “If you’re not worried about spoiling the surprise, of course”
“But it has been merely a year!” voicing out your concerns didn’t make you feel any better.
“So? My mom proposed to my dad three months after they started dating”
“Aren’t your parents divorced?”
“And not in talking terms”
You buried your face in your arms and closed your eyes tightly. It seemed, like it wasn’t going to be an easy task. Betty’s phone rang and you didn’t have to look to know it was Brian. You didn’t bother in looking up or saying goodbye, just heard her hurried steps as she left the place to talk to him.
You had more than enough with your problems.
-
You decided to ask him that evening.
You had always prided yourself in being a practical kind of person, and not someone who made assumptions based on guesswork and lack of evidence. Also, you didn’t think you could stand a surprise proposal without fainting on the spot.
Closing the door again, you announced your arrival and received a quick greeting from Taron. Noises could be heard from the kitchen, and a peek look while you took off your jacket let you know that he was cooking. He was wearing again the awful apron, and you salivated just by the smell of the food. Taron had always loved to cook, from impressive breakfast to surprising meals; after your fair share of disappointment and food poisoning, he had become quite talented at that.
You pressed a kiss to his cheek while he moved what seemed pork in the pan, and he answered by dragging you closer and planting a full kiss on your lips while you were serving yourself some water.
You smiled tight, returned the kiss and decided that you were doing it later.
That later, actually, came when dinner was finished.
You were almost falling asleep on his lap after a delicious dinner, dozing off on the film that you were trying to see. You couldn’t focus on what it was about, but rather on how to keep your eyes open to ask him about the weeding. You were laying your head on his thighs, and he had both of hands on you. One of his hands was caressing on your hip, warm and soft against the naked skin, and the other massaging your scalp, occasionally undoing on the knots of your hair. It felt ridiculous to ruin the mood by something that stupid, but you knew he would notice something was off eventually; and he tended to panic.
“So” you started.
Taron stopped moving for a second, before going back to his business. He, unlike you, liked to watch the movies you played on weekends, and got really invested into some of them. Usually, when you interrupted it, he got all mad and playfully banned you from the couch. But he had known you wanted to talk about something all day, from how silent you had been during dinner.
“So, Y/N” he repeated, and you smacked his thigh.
“You know – I borrowed your tabled, this morning?”
He frowned and you could hear the wheels turning in his brain. Taron, as said before, was the most paranoid boy you had ever met; and not in a bad way, because he fully trusted you, but it was true that he tended to think about conclusions before getting the facts.
“Was it porn?” he asked, and you felt like screaming for the second time that day. “Because I don’t think I opened it today. But, you know – we’ve had this conversation before, it’s hard when you –“
“I’m talking about the wedding plans, Taron”
Now, he really stopped moving. You felt him going tense under you, and the only thing he managed to do was to press silent with the remote he was holding. You could probably hear a pin dropping on the street, but in that moment the only thing you heard was Taron’s breathing and your heart beating loudly.
The truth was, Taron didn’t have the heart to make any excuse. He had already thought that it was a bit rushed, because you hadn’t been dating for that long. But recently, one of his friends was getting married, and all the preparations had made him look up some details about… your possible wedding. Just imagining you in the white dress he had seen the last week or in the beach, walking towards him, gave him chills.
“Uh”
Taron tried to say anything that might had excused the tabs on his tablet, and he mentally kicked himself for it not being porn. He could deal with an argument about the inconveniences of it, but not with you saying him ‘no’ already. He hadn’t even meant to ask you yet – he was curious. You were still looking at him, so he gave you a hesitant smile.
“I just see myself with you” he blurted out, much more confident of what he felt. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. “You’re so perfect, and complement me so well. I just – lately I’m always thinking about the future, and in every possibility there is you, with me, married and maybe with some kids. I’m sorry if… I know it’s rushed, and you don’t have to say anything. I just… imagining a future with you makes me keep going. Hypothetically ”
Taron shrugged at the end, as if it hadn’t been the most beautiful thing he had ever told you. He had a tendency to do that, a lot. Even if he was talkative and open on the outside, behind closed doors Taron was a bit shy. From your side vision, someone did something stupid in the film and got murdered.
You shifted so that you were back to your original position, having laid on your back to look at him. You turned your head to the screen and Taron pressed back the volume, and you didn’t miss how he slumped down and sighed.
Truly, you didn’t know what do say. Taron had been what you had always wanted in partner, and in the short amount of time you had been with him, you hadn’t discovered a single thing that made you not like him.
His hands were resting behind you, as if he was afraid to touch you. You reached for one and made him hug your middle until you could play with his fingers on your front.
“Just so you know, hypothetically” you started, fidgeting and looking at the blonde friend who tried to run from the killer in the TV. “I would say yes”
Taron smiled so wide that he thought he could slip his head in two, and finally relaxed into the touch. His hand that wasn’t trapped by you started playing with your hair once more, and the relaxed and happy mood that you enjoyed before was back.
“Well, I love you a lot. And that’s not hypothetically”
“I love you too, moron” you smiled and closed your eyes, ready to finally drift off.
Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!
Request: Hi there! I just read your most recent Elton John imagine. Could you maybe do an imagine where Elton is having his turmoil with his drug addiction and all that stuff in the movie and looks for some comfort in the reader. The reader can be gender neutral. If you don’t wanna do it then that’s ok
I hope this is okay @jolovesfandoms darling!
Comments are much appreciated <3
Warning, a little strong language and mentions of drugs/ drug abuse!
You were expecting a lot of things to happen tonight, after the doorbell rang. Reginald Dwight lying, crying at the base of your staircase, however, was not one of them.
The doorbell rings again, echoing down the hallways and into the living room where you sat like the stamping of an oncoming drum. It’s tinny, and grating, and so unlike the whirlwind world of Elton John that you were use to. Had been used to, before you left - before you came back home and left Elton to figure out what exactly it is he wanted. The doorbell only rings once more, demanding that you leave your dinner and go to the door. You sigh, standing up and marching down the hallway with a resigned grumble, whoever it is at the door puts their thumb on the button without releasing it at all and in your annoyance you lollop to the door and fling it wide ready to shout. For a second you see noone, nothing, that is, until your shoulder hits against the frame and the sparkly blue suited Elton John rushes past you and into your home.
‘Elton, bloody hell, I thought you were in America?’
‘I need your help, Y/n. I need your help, please.’
‘Elton, what are you on about? Aren’t you supposed to be on stage tomorrow?’
‘Bernie betrays me, everyone does. No one wants you when you lose. I’m an idiot... I’m such a prick, Y/n, a right idiot, but I’ll show them.’
The stairs ahead he marches towards are twisted in a perfect spiral, like a child's slinky toy pulled from each end. Each stair was likely a deep walnut, the banister squeaking under Elton’s hand as he grabs onto it, making to go up.
‘I’ll show them, huh, won’t I, Y/n. I’ll show them-’
He makes to move, but only manages to open his eyes wide in shock, and by then he was already falling. His perception of time distorted, everything slowed down until there was nothing, only him and the white ceiling above, that seemed to swallow her whole. His hand reached out towards it, kissing the roof and the sky about it, grasping the endless crevasse. Everything was a blur, a blur that swirled out of existence. Suspended in the air, he closed her eyes and surrendered himself into the infinite sky above, and whatever would come next.
Then impact. He feels his bones move in a way they shouldn't, jangled. He doesn’t move, can’t move. It took only seconds for him to fall back down the stairs and onto your feet, but it felt like an eternity for him.
Your brain stutters for a moment, every part of you going on pause while your thoughts catch up with the events of the last few minutes. Only for a moment though, before you’ve fallen onto your knees before him, one arm grabbing onto his elbow and helping to pull him up. He doesn’t take much convincing, falling straight away into the curve of your neck, his sequins scratching against your skin as you cup the back of his head and just hold him for a moment.
'It will be okay Reggie, it will. There are some really good programmes these days - I could go with you to the first meeting of one if you like. God - I’m so sorry for leaving, I didn’t realise it was this bad.’
‘They never warn you’, he says with a croak from your shoulder, ‘they never warn you. They always tell you about the crooks, the drug dealers hiding in the streets, but they never warn you about the villains that come with a smile.’
He was broken now, shattered really, robbed early of the tape and glue necessary to put a soul back together. His heart, poorly stapled shut, was beating hard but without purpose, his skin stretched across his aching muscles like a worn canvas. His mind, the only thing that still vaguely worked, had found out a way to reach you, desperate for a memory, good, warm, welcoming, one he could smile to, and you were the answer to that.
The sobs were stifled at first as he attempted to hide his grief, then overcome by the wave of his emotions he broke down entirely, sitting there, cradled in your arms and pulled tight against your chest, all his defences washed away in those salty tears. When he at last turned his face up to look at you, he was a picture of grief, loss, devastation. It was the face of one who had suffered before and didn't know if he could do it again.
‘I promise, Reggie, I’m not leaving you alone with them again.’
You rub the tears that lay at the crease of his eye away with your fingers and started rocking back and forth, thankful his breathing had started to slow.
Request: Hello :) you probably get a lot of requests right now lol but I'd like to send one in as well. Where reader is Richards younger sister (R Madden that is) and Taron falls for her, obviously Richard would be a little over protective at first loll thank you so much x
Pairing: Richard Madden x Sister Reader, Taron Egerton x Reader
Warnings: none
(lol any excuse to include this gif)
———————————————————-
Taron knew he liked you from the first moment he saw you. It wasn’t your (Y/H/C) hair, or your eyes, or your body (although he’d be the first to admit that, to him, all of those things were completely perfect). He fell in love with your laugh, incredibly emotive and loud, your humour and your personality; it sounded cheesy, but you could light up the room simply with your smile.
Obviously, working with your brother was a huge obstacle for Taron. He wasn’t scared of Richard, the opposite in fact, as filming Rocketman made the two men incredibly close. But Taron could 100% admit that he would not want to get on the wrong side of the Scot, especially as a result of him messing with his sister.
Taron first met you when Richard brought you to set one day; you were an aspiring filmmaker, so any opportunity to visit a real set was one you’d welcome openly. Taron heard a knock on his trailer door, followed by a shout of, “T, it’s me!”
“It’s open, Richard,” the Welshman shouted, sitting on his trailer sofa donning an iconic pair of Elton John glasses. Richard walked into the large trailer, a girl trailing behind him.
“Taron, this is-”
“Your sister, Y/N,” Taron stood up to greet you, swiftly pulling the heart shaped glasses from his face, “see, Richard, i do pay attention to your blabbering about your sister coming to set. Y/N, what a pleasure it is to meet you.” He grabbed your hand, kissing it, causing a red blush to rise across your cheeks. Richard, knowing Taron far too well as a result of the months spent on set together, was well aware of the new persona his friend was wearing; he was trying to impress you, and most likely, trying to flirt.
“It’s lovely to meet you too, Taron. I can’t imagine it’s much fun working with my brother?” You chuckled, causing Richard to send you a glare and Taron to laugh at your humour, “I’m kidding.” You smiled, kissing your brothers cheek.
“You better had be.” Richard replied, smiling through his harsh words to show the humour in his voice.
“Well, it’s a cross I have to bare, isn’t it? He’s such a diva, in hair and makeup all morning, insisting on certain food in his trailer and marching onto set as if he owns the place!” Taron shrugged, teasing Richard further. The pair of you burst into a fit of laughter as Richard returned to the trailers door.
“Come on, Y/N, it’s time to give you a tour,” Richard smiled as you made your way to join him, “and to get you away from him before one of you causes trouble.”
“See you later, Y/N.”
----------------------------
A month or so later, the friendship between yourself and Taron was constantly growing. Richard would see you staring at your phone, giggling as texts from the man came through; he couldn’t be sure that it was Taron you were texting, but the Welshman’s frequent mention of you in conversation and your hiding of the phone whenever Richard tried to look made it pretty clear.
Richard assumed the protective older brother role often, wanting to protect you not only from men, but also from the difficulties of living in the public eye. He knew that Taron wouldn’t mess you around or purposely break your heart, but he couldn’t help but hate the idea of you being harassed by photographers as a result fo both your brother’s and boyfriend’s fame. He tried to stay out of the way, tried not to get involved prematurely, yet the minute he saw yours’ and Taron’s name plastered across tabloids and stories of ‘forbidden love’, he couldn’t help himself.
Luckily for him, he managed to find you and Taron together, conversing over a coffee outside a food van on the studio lot.
“Could I have a word?” Richard asked, meaning to direct the question at the pair, but his intense gaze at Taron said otherwise.
“With who?” You asked, concerned by the apparent look of annoyance on your brothers’ face. He noted your concern, softening his features.
“Both of you,” adding a “please” to the end.
“Sure, Rich, what’s up?” Taron asked as Richard pulled the last remaining metal chair away from the table and sat in it. Richard sighed heavily: could he really do this? Confront you about a relationship? What if the two of you were just friends, and the stories were just that, stories?
“I just-” he started, stuttering as he was unsure of what to say, “What’s going on between you two?”
You and Taron sat there in a stunned silence.
“It’s j-just that,” Richard started again, his words betraying him once more, “Actually, I don’t care, you can date if you want, I don’t mind,” he noted the shared glance of relief you and Taron shared, and turned himself to solely face Taron, “but please, T. I know you won’t hurt her. Ever since I got into the industry, I’ve tried to protect her from publicity. I’ve tried to keep her face of newspapers and magazines. Please, promise me you’ll do the same.”
Taron was shocked, expecting a speech about how he didn’t want the pair together, “Yeah. Of course.” Richard too released a sigh of relief, whilst you and Taron shared smiles with one another.
“Thankyou, Richard,” you grabbed your brother's hand, taking his speech as acceptance of the relationship.
He sighed, standing up and kissing you on the cheek, “In that case, I’ll leave you to alone now,” he made to leave, but turned towards his co star, leaning down towards his ear, “I have full faith that you won’t hurt my sister, and you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves. But, if for some idiotic reason you do, just know that I will hurt you in ways you could never imagine.” The Scottish man stood back up, smiled at you and walked away, you sharing a similar smile whilst Taron looked simply petrified.
Prompts:
2. “What do you want me to say?”
5. “I love you, I just don’t like you very much right now.”
10. “Choose me.”
17. “And when were you planning on telling me this?”
Pairing: Taron Egerton x reader
A/N: This is a mix of three requests because they worked together really well for this idea I had and I feel like it still stays true to what each person wanted. Hope you enjoy and keep on requesting from my prompt list if you want more!
“I just can’t believe you’re finally back,” you say as you leave a trail of gentle kisses along your husband’s jawline. Taron holds you just that little bit tighter, relishing in this moment for all the bliss that it was.
It had been a long month for the both of you. Taron had been away promoting his new film, Rocketman, while you had stayed at home preparing for the release of your debut novel. Though you had managed to push back some meetings and work extra hard to allow for a few days off to join him for the premiere, you had still missed him sorely.
But now, Rocketman’s press tour had finally come to a close, and everything was organised for the biggest night of your career to date, your book launch tomorrow night. All you had to do now was try not to die of anxiety over the reception of the novel you had poured your heart and soul into for the past two years.
You had found loving on your husband to be a pretty good distraction since he had arrived home that morning.
You were supposed to be in the kitchen preparing dinner but somehow you had ended up sitting on the bench with your legs wrapped around Taron’s waist and your lips planted firmly on his. Not so firmly, however, that you could resist the urge to remove them and talk about your big night.
“God I‘m just so excited for tomorrow night,” you couldn’t contain the smile that crossed your face just thinking about it. “I’m so glad it worked with your press schedule, I don’t know what I would do without you there.”
“About that,” Taron began, making your blood turn cold immediately. “I’m really sorry darling but it turns out I actually can’t make it.”
“What?”
“Well, you know that part I auditioned for?” He took your nod as an indication to continue. “Well the director invited me to go to this party with him and a bunch of the producers, and my agent told me if I wanted the part I would have to go.”
“Well, why don’t you just go to the party after the launch? I’m sure you could make both, the party will probably run late right?” You attempted to reason with him.
“The party’s in LA,” he said so quietly if you weren’t in front of him you probably wouldn’t hear him. “I fly out tomorrow morning.”
“And when were you planning on telling me this?” You hop off the bench and walk a few steps away from him, wanting to get some distance between the two of you.
“I don’t know, now I guess?”
You scoffed at him, not believing what you were hearing.
“I still came home though didn’t I? I could’ve just gone straight to LA but I wanted to come home and see you before your book launch,” he gained a bit of confidence in what he was saying as he prepared to defend himself.
“Well aren’t you just Mr Considerate?” You stared him down hard, wanting him to feel the fire behind your eyes.
“Look I’m sorry okay? I really am. But this is my career we’re talking about. Would you want me to miss out on this part because of this?”
“Do you really think you would miss out on a part because you didn’t go to one shitty party?” You accused.
“Yes! It’s all about networking in this industry,” he justified. You just rolled your eyes, not even dignifying his bullshit with a response.
He sighed, exasperated, as though your reaction was not extremely well-warranted. For a moment, the two of you just stood in silence, Taron growing in agitation with each passing second you didn’t roll over and tell him his career was more important like you usually do in a situation like this. This time was different than all the others, it just was. He had never missed something this important to you. He knew just how nervous you were about this. Just how much you needed his support.
If his reasoning was more genuine, you would be 100% supportive. If he had a premiere, or a big interview, or an actual audition you would let him go without a shred of fight. You would wish him well and let him go on his merry way without complaint. But to miss the night you had building towards for the past two years, just for the opportunity to network with some people he had already auditioned for and clearly seemed like they wanted to give him the role? Perhaps you had given him too much leeway, and he was starting to lose sight of what was reasonable to ask of a spouse.
“What do you want me to say, babe?” Taron asked, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry that I’m chasing a job opportunity? I’m sorry that I’m trying to further my career? Well I’m not. I am sorry that I’m missing your big night but I think my reason is pretty valid don’t you?”
“No Taron. I don’t want you to say any of that. I want you to say, ‘The director invited me to a party, but I told him that I’ll be busy that night supporting my wife on one of the biggest nights of her career. We’re catching up for a lunch instead to discuss the role and the film further, one on one.’ Or I want you to say, ‘You’re right babe, you need me by your side tomorrow night, I’ll call him right now and tell him about the schedule mix up.’ I want you to say that you choose me, Taron.”
You allow your words to hang in the air for a moment, before concluding your spiel. “Not some networking bullshit for a role you have probably already secured.”
For a moment, you think you’ve broken through. You think you’ve allowed Taron to finally see sense and realise that the only person being is him. But you know you’ve misinterpreted the sorrowful look on his face when he says, “You can’t ask me to choose you over my career.”
“I’m not!” You know that you’re raising your voice now, more than you ever like to, but in this one moment, you just don’t care. “I’m asking you to make other arrangements, this one time! How many times have I worked my schedule around your filming schedules? Or your premieres? Do you know how many stupid fucking parties I’ve missed? How many meetings? I’ve never asked you to do the same. Not once. Because I’m your wife and it’s my job to be there when you need me. So please, please, do the same for me right now.”
“I’m sorry darling, I just can’t.”
Your eyes betray you and the first tear falls. “Right, well,” you state, your voice suddenly much quieter, “I guess that’s that then.” With that you turn on your heel and exit the kitchen, trying to conceal the tears that are now cascading freely down your face.
“Babe, come on…” Taron calls after you, but even he knows it’s a futile attempt.
You take the stairs up to your bedroom two at a time, desperately wanting privacy in this moment of heartache. It isn’t until you slam the bedroom door that you allow the sobs to break free.
It’s a couple hours later when Taron follows you up. You’re wrapped up in your favourite blanket, feigning sleep as you hear him attempt to repack his suitcase quietly. He made short work of it, simply trading the dirty laundry out for clean. It wasn’t long before he was in nothing but his briefs, crawling into bed next to you.
Despite your better judgement, you let him wrap his arms around you and hold you close to his chest. You two had spent a lot of time apart in recent months, and there was a deep ache in your chest knowing what little time you had left together had been wasted fighting. So even though you were perhaps the angriest you had ever been at him, you relished in his touch.
“I know you’re awake, babe,” he whispered.
You said nothing in return, just shuffled slightly to acknowledge that he was indeed correct.
“I love you,” he said, but you knew the admission for what it really was: a plea. He was asking you to give him an indication that things were okay. That even though he knew he had probably fucked up, things were not beyond repair. It was an unspoken tradition between the two of you since before you were married. Even if you were fighting, you would exchange ‘I love you’s.
“I love you, Taron. I just don’t like you very much right now.”
When awoke the next morning, Taron and his suitcase were gone. The only thing he had left behind was a note on your bedside table.
Y/N,
Good luck with your book launch tonight. I am so proud of you my love. I’m sorry about last night. I promise to be at every book launch from now on, and I just know there are many more to come.
All my love,
T x
You reread it three times before scrunching it up and throwing it across the room in a fit of rage. Normally you were a pretty evenly tempered person, but the immense stress and pressure the release of your novel brought was taking a toll on your composure.
Something you felt even more keenly, as you arrived at your book launch event that night. You were no longer behind closed doors, with the ability to dissolve into panic over how your book would be reviewed, or feel sorry for yourself for arriving to this event alone. No. Now you had to greet and entertain the wide array of guests you were hosting for tonight. Plaster on that fake smile as you made small talk with the journalists, critics and internet celebrities you needed to promote your novel.
“Where is that husband of yours tonight?” Asked probably the tenth person for the night, everyone wanting to rub elbows with the phenomenal actor surrounded by Oscar buzz.
“Away for work, unfortunately,” the false indifference coming easier to you now that you’ve had to tell so many people the same thing.
“Big night for him to be missing isn’t it?” The snooty journalist asked, clearly trying to sniff out some kind of celebrity gossip story.
You opened your mouth, trying to fabricate some kind of reply, when you heard his voice. “That’s why I’m not missing it.”
Your head snapped to the right and there he was. Your husband in a gorgeous grey suit, a bouquet of roses in hand, coloured exactly to match your book’s cover, and a smirk on his lips. “Sorry I’m late love, traffic was a killer.” He stepped forward and kissed your cheek, handing you the flowers.
Your expression quickly turned from being one of shock to extreme joy. “Sorry sir,” you turned to the journalist, giving him your first genuine smile of the evening. “But I’m going to excuse myself to have a moment alone with my husband.”
You grabbed his hand and led him to a private corner of the party, setting your roses down on the first surface you could find before turning and connecting your lips with his. He smiled into the kiss, knowing without a doubt in his mind that he had made the right choice.
After a moment you pulled away, but still held his face in your hands. “What happened to the party in LA?”
“I was literally ten minutes away from boarding my plane when it clicked how wrong I was. I thought about how hard you’ve worked the whole time I’ve known you to be an author. How much of your time and effort you’ve poured into this. How this is such a massive achievement for you, and as your husband I should be here with you in this moment,” he turned his head slightly, so he could press a kiss to your open palm. “So I got my luggage back and drove back home but you were already gone to get ready. So here I am, apology/congratulatory flowers in hand,” he grinned.
“And if you don’t get the role now?” A trickle of guilt hit your spine. You didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on an amazing opportunity.
“If I have to become a thoughtless prick of a husband to get that role then it isn’t worth it,” his eyes pierced yours. “The greatest role of my life is being your husband. I’m not going to let anything fuck that up. Least of all myself.”
“I love you so much,” you spoke softly, trying not to allow anymore tears to spill, whether they be happy or not.
“And I love you,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Now come on, let’s go celebrate you and your amazing book.”
Two bassists in rhythmic love; John Deacon x reader
*Author’s note*
Okay so this was a part of @sohoneyspreadyourwings‘s Secret Santa giveaway. And SURPRISE @thosequeenboys I AM YOUR SECRET SANTA!!!!! It was so nice getting your approval on some aspects of that I added into this. So this fic is a crossover b/t BoRhap and Rocketman since you reader are the bass player to Elton John.
So pairing wise you’ve got John Deacon x reader for romantic
And platonic Elton and Bernie.
I hope you enjoy this you lovely darling and it was great to be your Secret Santa :)
“Hehehe Nohohoho……stop!” I tried to get away but there was just no stopping this endless torture.
“You know what’ll make me stop love.” He taunted.
“I can’t…..plehehehase. I love you.”
“Aww and I love you too. But it still won’t get you out from saying what I want you to say.” I shrieked and cried out once more as he moved from tickling my sides to my ribs.
“Okay! OKAY! I GIVE I GIHIHIHIVE!! I’LL SAY IT I’LL SAY IT!” he ceased his tickle torture and I finally confessed what he had wanted me to say before this tickle torture started up. “John Deacon is the handsomest, most talented and funkiest bass player out there. And he’s also a jerk.” I added which made him squeeze my hips but I squealed and pleaded, “Okay, okay! Okay I was joking! I didn’t mean it!”
“That’s what I thought.” He said as his hands left my hips but then came up and cupped my face. His thumbs gently stroked my cheekbones and he whispered. “How did I ever get so lucky to find someone like you?”
“Believe me, I ask myself that everyday about you Deacy. Guess it was just—fate.”
“I’ll take that.” He said as he leaned down and lovingly and gently captured my lips with his. I lifted my hands up and stroked through his newly cut short brown hair. I felt his thumbs gently stroke both sides of my cheeks as our kiss continued until the need for air became dire. “You sure you like the new hair?”
“Yes John. I mean as much as I’ll miss braiding your long, flowing locks, this short hairstyle suits you. But I swear to you, if you ever give yourself a mushroom I will use it as a pillow.” He softly laughed and smiled the adorable million dollar smile that made his eyes cringle at the corners.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He lay down beside me and I placed my hand over his chest and listened to his heartbeat while I felt his arms wrap around me.
Now I know what you all maybe thinking, how in the world did I ever get someone like John Deacon of Queen to be the love of my life? Well that all started a couple years ago at a disco club.
*Valentine’s day, 1974*
It was another day, another day of hell. I mean why must they make a holiday for couples? Just to make those who are single feel bad? I had just gotten done performing alongside a very good friend of mine, I think you all may know him.
“Oi (y/n)! We’re heading down to Ringo’s pub, why don’t you come with us.” The familiar Middlesex accent proclaimed. I cringed and said.
“Sorry Elton, I’m not feeling it tonight.”
“And just why is that?” the Lincolnshire voice of my other pal Bernie Taupin spoke up as he came around the corner.
“I just—I see no point in going out.”
“Oh c’mon (y/n). I need my bassist with me. Your my wing woman.” Elton said as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
“You and Bernie will do fine without me. Now go on have fun, don’t let me be your Debbie downer.” I said as I grabbed a bottle of wine from the catering bar.
“No way (y/n). Now look I know how you’ve felt about this holiday but who knows. Maybe you’ll find someone tonight.” Bernie said as he came up and gently ruffled through my hair.
“I doubt it.” I said depressingly.
“Oh c’mon darling you have to come. You’re coming.” Next thing I knew, both boys had me by my arms and they dragged me out of the stadium and out into the world.
Then like any other scenario, even though the boys stayed with me for like the first half hour, I ended up alone at the bar when our manager John Reid came by and Elton went with him. Bernie then came across a beautiful girl and he went to spend time with her.
I sighed heavily as I fingered my beer glass and decided to just take my leave since the boys were clearly enjoying themselves, plus I was sick of looking at all the couple dance and make out with each other. As I stood up and turned around, I bumped into someone spilling their drink onto their shirt.
“Shit! I’m so sorry I-I wasn’t paying attention I should’ve looked to see if anyone was coming up from behind me.”
“It’s alright love, really. No harm done.” I looked up and the first thing that caught my eye was this man’s sharp features. His nose to a point but it just suited him, as well as his unique hazel/grey like eyes. He had long, dark brown hair that came down past his shoulders.
“Are—are you sure? I could get you another drink. Or help you wash off your shirt.”
“It’s fine love, really. I was meaning to throw this old thing out anyways. Really there’s no harm done.”
“Okay well, at least let me buy you a new drink. Please I insist.” I urged my last statement as he went to argue. He softly smiled and accepted my offer. “What did you have?”
“Just a pint of beer.” I nodded and asked the bartender to get me a pint of beer for the guy and she nodded.
“John Deacon.” He said. I turned and looked at him questioningly. “My name, I figured you’d like a name of the man you’re paying back with a refill of his own drink.” I awed in understandment and said as I held my hand out.
“(Y/n). Your ‘assailant’ of sorts.” We shook hands with each other and the second our hands touched, I felt this spark. I know it sounds cliché but it’s true. As his pint came back, he asked me.
“So what brings you out here tonight?”
“Well—two of my friends thought I could use a night out. Better than spending Valentine’s day alone with a self-pity party for being single.”
“If—you don’t mind me saying I find that hard to believe.”
“What exactly?”
“That a—beautiful woman like yourself could possibly have no Valentine to call her own.” I snickered and said.
“Well believe it pal. And what about you? Won’t your date feel offended with you talking to me?”
“Actually believe it or not, I’m in the same boat as you.” I looked at him like he was crazy.
“Seriously John?”
“Yes. I—don’t have a girlfriend. Just—hadn’t had found the right one yet. Plus with my touring schedule it’s hard to settle down to find one.”
“Touring? Are you in a band?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m the bassist for a group called Queen.”
Oh my god! How could I not recognize him before?! Queen was the second band that Reid was managing. I had both of their records at home and I listen to them almost religiously.
“Wow, Queen ehh? You guys are—phenomenal.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. I mean I don’t mean to sound like a crazed fangirl but it’s just what you four do I’ve—I’ve never heard any other band do such a thing. And I must say your bass playing is probably the best I’ve ever heard. Not even I’ve been able to so such a thing.”
“You play bass?” he asked me.
“Yeah.”
“Do you perform for a band as well?” at that question I knew I was hesitant to answer. In my past relationships I did mention to my former ex-boyfriends that I was Elton’s bass player and it always ended with two stories.
They were using me to get to Elton, or they just wanted to brag to their friends or former girlfriends that I was a bass player to a famed rockstar. Treating me like more like a trophy than a human being.
“No, no not really cut out for a band. But I do play bass. Have been since I was 12-13 years old.” Now part of it was true except for the band part.
“Same for me.”
“Really?”
“Really.” We both laughed and just began conversing about our favorite types of music and other things in general like where we grew up, what we studied in University, that type of stuff.
It wasn’t until Elton’s song “Tiny Dancer” came on the speakers and that moment I started feeling a little queasy mixed with heartbreak because I saw as every couple begin to stand up and I saw that it was practically the whole club.
Not a single person was left standing as they started gathering around the dance floor. I sighed solemnly but that’s when John surprised me by saying.
“I—don’t mean to sound to sudden but uhh…..would you….I mean that is if you’d like. Would you—like to dance? With me?” I looked at him surprised. John Deacon of Queen was asking me to dance? Pinch me I must be dreaming.
“Sure.” We set out drinks down and he held out his hand for mine. I took his hand and he soon led me to the dance floor.
We stared face to face with each other and our hands stayed entwined with each other’s. He looked at me asking permission if he could place his arm around my waist. I nodded and as I felt his hand stroke across my side, shivers ran up my spine and (while I tried to be discreet about it) I felt my breath hitch.
We then began swaying from side to side as the club lights shined a beautiful pink, purple and blue (like how it would be at your senior prom or Valentine’s day dance).
As John and I swayed to the melody of Elton’s piano playing and hearing his enchanting voice go through the speakers, I couldn’t find myself looking away from John’s eyes. I felt my face burn red, god my—my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest at this rate.
Was—was this what it felt like to fall in love? Like truly in love?
For the rest of the night Deacy and I were quite the dancing pair. And it turns out he’s got some funky moves in him. And of course I don’t like to brag but I have been told by some friends of mine that when it comes to dancing, I’ve got a good step or too, I guess that’s why I chose to play the bass, more time for dancing if your focused on the harmony and not melody.
I was currently laughing at some funny story that he had just shared about one of his bandmates. I don’t really remember what it was cause at this point I was going a bit tipsy from the drinking we had done together.
“God I—I didn’t think I was gonna have a good time tonight but now—since you came John, I—thanks you.”
“I think you mean thank you.” I giggled drunkly and that’s when I heard Bernie’s voice whistle out.
“Oi (n/n)!” Ahh shit. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no Bernie don’t you dare come in now! Or at least let it be just you. “Ahh there you are. We lost you for the night and we—ohhhh I see what this is.” He teased as he spotted John.
God Bernie was such a tease when he was drunk.
“Uhh (y/n) do you know this guy?” asked John.
“Know me? Please she and El—”
“Elena! His girlfriend Elena and I go way back. Yeah this guy is mutual friend of mine. But it seems he’s gone off the deep end so I guess it’s time to take you home lad.”
“But aren’t you gonna introduce me to your…..”
“No its best we get you into bed. Wouldn’t want Elena to skin my head now would we? I’m so sorry John but I think it’s time I head home. I’m glad to have met you.”
“Likewise. I’ll call you next time I’m free.” I smiled and bid him one last goodbye before dragging Bernie away.
“What was all that shit about? I don’t know any Elena’s.”
“I know Bernie Jesus just keep walking. Is Elton still here?”
“No he and Reid slipped out about 2 hours ago.” That’s great. “Now call me crazy, but was that you and John Deacon of Queen there?” he asked as he finally reached outside. I stopped him and kept him steady.
“Yes. Yes it was him.”
“Oh hohohoho. Bassist on bassist ehh?”
“Shhh! Would you shut up Bernie!” I hissed.
“So—did you tell him we’re technically partners cause of Reid managing both them and you and Elton?” I felt my stomach drop and my mind went fuzzy but I refused to answer him as I went up to the curb to wave us a cabbie. “(Y/n)?”
“Hmm what?”
“You—didn’t tell him did you?” he asked me.
“Yeah no I heard you the first time Bernie.”
“You didn’t. God (n/n) why?” he dragged out the why.
“Because Bernie I……I don’t wanna talk about it okay!” finally a cabbie came and I helped him inside and as I told him the address to our hotel and he took off driving.
When we arrived at our room, since Bernie was too drunk to go to his room, I allowed him to stay in mine since for whatever reason I was given a two bed room when I had asked for just one.
I dropped him on the spare bed and he groaned out.
“Thanks for smothering me. Planning on ridding of me?”
“Please, if I wanted to be rid of yah I could think of worser ways to do it. Now go to sleep yah wally.”
“Not until I know—just why you didn’t tell Deacon the truth of who you really are?” he said as he sat himself up and began fumbling about as he took his shoes off.
“I already told you Bernie I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“No, no, no, c’mon.” he sat up and flopped right beside me, sitting rather close to me and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Spill your guts lil’ sis.” The corner of my mouth crooked upwards in a slight smile as he called me that.
“I think you know Bernie, please don’t make me say it.” He then ahhed in understandment.
“Afraid he might turn out like those other bastards?”
“I mean he’s a famous bass player of a growing band yes but—even then what if he……” I trailed off.
“Hey now.” He hugged me close to him and rubbed my back. “I’m sure he won’t be. But if you don’t tell him the truth now, he’ll find out somewhere else, and he’ll feel like he had been used.”
“I know. And I don’t wanna do that to him cause…..I think I—love him.” He mocked a dramatic gasp as he covered his mouth. I shoved him which made him snicker.
“And I’m happy for you love. Truly I am. So please—consider telling him.”
“I will. Thank you Bernie.”
“You’re my sister (y/n). Always will be.” And with that he passed out on my bed.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. Why couldn’t he have had enough strength to get back to his bed? But in the end I tucked him into my bed and decided to sleep in the spare bed. I switched out the light and soon I passed out.
Months after meeting John Deacon, it was just nonstop touring. Not only with us but Queen was doing their first ever American tour for the first time. But I took Bernie’s advice and the next time John and I talked with each other, I told him what I really did for a living.
Surprisingly he accepted it like it was a normal thing and said that it was cool to know another bassist in the lime life of the Rock ’n Roll. We kept in contact whenever we could, writing letters to each other to the occasional phone call or two.
I was practicing some bass riffs while occasionally looking through a Rolling stones magazine reading rubbish reviews of Queen’s music.
“I see that my little bass player is doing her literary stalking of the man of her dreams.” I groaned and said.
“I swear Elton you say that term one more time, I’m gonna pop you off with my bass.” He just grinned that shit-eating grin of his at me before coming up and ruffling my hair while poking my cheek.
“Oh come off it you know you love me too much to do that.”
“Oh bugger off yah rotter!” I snapped.
“Alright Reg stop teasing her.” Bernie said as he came up onto the stage and sat down beside me. “Besides, it’s not her fault that she’s practically head over heels for John Deacon. ‘Oh Deacy I miss you soooooo much. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. Why can’t we be together again?’” he mocked me by speaking in a high pitched voice.
“You both are going to hell.” I laughed sarcastically. They just ended up laughing and that’s when Elton said.
“Well hope you’re ready to give Queen a good show tonight.”
“Wait what you mean?” I asked.
“Oh did I forget to tell you? I’ve invited the lads to the show.”
“You did what?!” I shrieked standing up.
“Oh whoopies.” And with that he walked away. I felt myself tensing up and that’s when Bernie asked me.
“Hey, you okay?”
“That fucking wanker!” I snapped as I raced out and locked myself in my dressing room. I felt my chest constrict as I felt like I was having a freakin panic attack. I felt myself hyperventilating and tears were forming at the corner of my eyes.
“(Y/n)?” I heard after a knock at my door. “(Y/n) c’mon love. I think you’re overreacting.”
“No! Bernie. You are underreacting. It’s one thing that you both tease me relentlessly about my little crush on Deacy. But now I find out that I’m going to have to perform in front of him. I can’t go out there!”
“Okay, okay. Look I’m sorry we’ve been making fun of you. But you are a kickass bass player that I know John will love to see up there.”
“But what if I mess up on one of the songs? How close are the seats? What if he’s up front? God my wardrobe could be see through with those lights. I’ll freakin flash him if I go out there!”
“You wore that ensemble Elton’s first night at the Troubadour and it was not see through.”
“What is going on here?” Oh shit here we go.
“Mr. Reid I—” I then heard the banging on my door grow louder as Reid’s harsh Scottish tone snarl out.
“Less you want to be replaced because believe me there’s plenty out there, I suggest you put your big girl pants on and stop acting like a little bitch!” Oh hell no he didn’t. I opened my door and the first thing I did was sucker punch him.
“Never. Ever. Call me a bitch.” I glared at him and picked up my bass once more and walked out of there with the tension in the room still so thick you could cut it with a knife.
As it got closer to concert time, I took a few deep breaths and began jostling around shaking my nerves out.
“Did you serious sucker punch our manager?” asked Elton.
“He called me a bitch.”
“Okay that I can understand. But you better be careful, you know Reid can easily fire you for that.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah I know cause bassists are easily replaceable. Now can we please just do the show so that way I can humiliate myself in front of Deacy and the rest of Queen already?” I drummed against the neck of my bass before going on stage to join the guitarist Rickey and the drummer Stevie.
Surprisingly the concert had gone very well and by the end of it all, we were all backstage and Bernie hugged me.
“See, didn’t I tell you? You were brilliant out there!”
“Thanks Bernie.”
“So this is the famed bassist that Elton was telling me about.” I turned and low and behold there stood the famed frontman Freddie Mercury, along with Deacy and Roger Taylor, the drummer of Queen.
“Not to mention the bassist that our own bass player won’t stop going on about. I swear he must’ve caught flies throughout the entire show, couldn’t keep his mouth shut at all.” Teased Roger which earned him a harsh nudge in the ribs from Deacy. He came up to me and he said.
“You were phenomenal up there.”
“You really think so?”
“Absolutely. I—I can’t believe I never asked to see you play before.” I lightly blushed at his comment then to try and change the topic before he could even notice, I asked him.
“Where’s Brian? I thought he’d want to see this.”
“He would but—he’s currently at the hospital.”
“What? Why? Is he okay?”
“Well…..while we were touring in America, Brian came down with a bad case of hepatitis.” I gasped.
“Oh my god. Is he gonna—”
“Last we heard they managed to stabilize him. But they’re debating about whether or not they’ll amputate his arm.” I was horrified. Oh my god Brian I—I can’t believe it. No one deserves something like that.
“Do they know what caused it?”
“The bloody doctor in Australia didn’t know the difference between a clean and dirty needle. We’re trying to file a lawsuit against him.”
“And damn right he better fess up. But wait what about the rest of your American tour?”
“It’s cancelled. Mott the Hoople agreed that Brian needed to go home and recover. Elton got us these tickets because he thought it would be a good distraction for us for a bit. We hadn’t stopped worrying about him.”
“I’ll bet. I mean if it were Bernie or Elton in Brian’s shoes I’d be throwing a panicky fit.” I placed a comforting hand on Deacy’s shoulder. “I’ll be keeping him in my thoughts. But I believe he’ll be back on his feet soon.”
“Thanks (y/n). It really means a lot. I—I can’t lose anyone else in my life.” There was this intense look of sadness in his eyes. One part of me felt like asking him what he meant by that exactly but I knew it wasn’t my business, he’ll tell me when he wants to tell me.
“I’m always here for you. Anytime you wanna talk, you know my number. And we share a manager so hopefully Reid’s not too much of an arse about it.” He chuckled, forming that adorable eye crinkle smile of his.
“Here’s hoping. Hey do you—wanna go out for a drink? My treat.”
“No, no, no it’s my treat tonight.”
“But you just got done doing a full 2hr concert, the least I could do is pay for your drinks.”
“Yeah but you paid for my drinks back when we first met. Now it’s my turn.” I stated as I began to walk away with Deacy walking beside me.
It wasn’t until another several months, in fact around Christmas time that I finally got to see Deacy again. Elton was hosting a Christmas party and he invited the boys of Queen to come. Of course the only requirement that my dear friend required of all his guests to wear is your most ugliest sweater imaginable.
So I came in with a sweater my nana made for me a couple Christmas’ ago just before I started University. It was green with a single red stitching pattern along the collar, and sleeves. At the center was a mama goose wearing a Santa hat and a red ribbon around her neck.
I was currently helping with the catering as I brought I my mum’s special recipe for Christmas pudding. I had just given a lovely couple some punch (which I’m sure Elton might’ve spiked it with rum or vodka).
“Never did I expect you to be the catering lady.” I looked up and there stood John wearing probably the ugliest sweater I’ve seen all night.
“Oh god!” I tried to hold back a laugh.
“Yeah, yeah go ahead laugh, Roger and Brian had a field day with it.” It was a white wool sweater with Santa in his sleigh with his reindeer at the head. But what got the real kick was that Rudolph’s nose actually blinked and lite up.
“No, no it’s—it’s actually cute.”
“No come on give me your best insult.”
“Deacy I swear. And it’s creative. How did you get the nose to light up?”
“Well it was hard don’t get me wrong but all it took was some small LED lighting, a couple of wires and a long lasting battery. I doubt it’ll catch on though. I seem to be the only one with a light up sweater.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you might start a trend one day.”
“And how about you? Where did you find yours?”
“Oh this old thing’s literally been buried in my closet for years. It was a present from my nan at the start of University. I only wore it when she was around and them immediately took it off.”
“Well—I think it’s cute too.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. I love the concept. The Christmas Goose.” We both laughed and I asked him.
“So what can I get you? Fudge? Fruitcake, although I don’t know why someone brought that. No one’s even touched it.”
“Probably for the gag.”
“Possibly.”
“I think I’ll try the pudding.”
“Well you’re in luck cause I made that. My mum’s secret recipe.” I told him as I readied it for him and handed him his plate. He took a spoon and took a taste of the pudding. I then saw him close his eyes and moan n bliss.
“Oh my god.”
“You like it?”
“Oh it’s heaven. You made this?”
“Yeah. But like I said it’s my mum’s secret recipe.”
“You mind sharing it with me?”
“Absolutely not, then it wouldn’t be a secret recipe anymore.” I sassed.
“Oh come on, I’ve shared with you plenty of secrets. Music wise or personal. The least you can do is share this delicious recipe.” I grinned and that’s when Bernie came in and said.
“Might as well forget it. Elton and I have tried for years to get her to tell us what her mum does in that pudding. Elton claims there’s crack to make it addicting.”
“Which of course there isn’t.” I piped in.
“Well then I’m going to need seconds that’s for sure.” As he took another scoop of pudding.
“Thankfully I made plenty for this party. Every year it seems to be popular.”
“Well I may be your frequent requestor for this pudding.” John said as he began to place other assortments onto his plate. As I gave him some punch I warned him.
“Might wanna be careful with the punch. Pretty sure Elton gave it a kick with something. Just an hour ago I saw a woman literally pass out after having over 7 cups.”
“Well thanks for the warning.” He said as he took a small sip. Almost immediately scrunching his face. “Oh yeah, I can taste the vodka.”
“At first I thought it was rum. But then again he must’ve put the rum in the eggnog.”
“Maybe. Well I’ll be back soon.”
“Can’t wait.” I said with a shy smile. As Deacy walked away I heard two loving sighs.
“I swear Melina, no matter how many times I see them talk to each other, it gets cuter every time.” Fawned Elton.
“I can’t agree with you more Sharon.” Fawned Freddie. I glared at them and flipped the two singers and pianists off but all that did was make them laugh.
Once the party got into full swing with people at different parts of the house playing various games such as “Toss-A-Cross”, “Rock ‘em, Sock ‘em Robots”, “Mouse trap”, and other various board games while Christmas music kept playing in one room.
While in the other room several of us were gathered for a Christmas style game of Musical chairs. The song choice was Chuck Berry’s “Run Rudolph Run” which was the perfect song choice. I kept my eyes on everyone and each chair. Sometimes even stopping before quickly racing forward and finally claim the closest chair I could just as the music stopped.
So far people were dropping like flies until it came down to a few other guests, me, Deacy and Freddie. Elton was in charge of the vinyl and I swear he was being a little shit right now. At the point he was only letting the track run for like 3 seconds before lifting the needle off the track.
As each guest lost and another chair was taken away, it all came down to me, Freddie and Deacy. I eyed the boys competitively and as the music resumed we began walking around the two chairs. And cheeky Deacy he began to use my own move against me as I would bump into him.
“Move it Deacon!”
“In your dreams (l/n).” He would stay still for another second before moving again. Suddenly the music stopped and both Deacy and I sat down, the two of us grinning up at Freddie who surprisingly didn’t get offended.
“Alright love birds, the time has come.” Freddie said as he came to collect my chair.
“We aren’t lovebirds!” both Deacy and I snapped in unison. We looked at each other as the crowd all ooed at us. Deacy and I turned away blushing and stood face to face of each other over the last remaining chair.
“You’re going down Deacy.” I taunted.
“Please (n/n). I’ve never lost a game of musical chairs. And I don’t plan on starting now.”
“Well I’ve been playing this game when you were still a toddler. I always win at this game.”
“Alright you lovebirds if you wanna make out go outside and do it.” Exclaimed Elton. “Otherwise get ready.” The song started over and Deacy and I stared at each other eye to eye as we both circled around the chair. The two of us using my method of stopping just to delay the walking before quickly racing behind the other person.
Elton then lifted the needle off the track and all was silent. We both somehow ended in the chair, but of course we were nudging the other person till I managed to boot him out for two seconds.
“No fair she booted me off. Clearly I sat down first.”
“Oh just take it like a man John Deacon. I beat you fair and square.”
“No because you cheated!”
“You can’t prove it.”
“Yeah? But I can make you confess it.”
“And just how do you intend on—GAHH no! Don’t you dare GAAAHHH!!” I squealed as I felt his fingers beginning to tickle my sides. Then I don’t know how but he somehow switched us so that he was now sitting in the chair and I was on his lap.
After all that excitement, I decided to walk out onto Elton’s balcony to get some fresh air from the hot house.
“You’ll catch your death of cold if you stay out here.” I grinned and said.
“Well one can only take so many bodies in one room before it gets too hot for you. Even with this sweater on.” Deacy soon came up and stood beside me. The two of us stood there close together in silence for a while and he said.
“So you ready to accept that I won?”
“Yes. You John Richard Deacon are the all-time winner of Musical chairs and will always be the reigning champion.” I stated in a sarcastic tone. He raised his brow at me before looking at me with one of those famed funny looks which made me giggle.
“Now there’s no need to be a sore loser about it.” I stuck my tongue at him before he bopped my nose. I twitched my nose before turning back towards the city lights.
The silence rang between us once more before we both turned towards each other, our mouths opened like we were both going to say something. I then laughed awkwardly and he said.
“Were—you going to say something? Please you first.”
“Oh it’s nothing important I just…..it’s crazy to think that it’s been ten months since we’ve met each other.”
“Really? Has it been that short?”
“Yeah. Feels like we’ve known each other for years.”
“Yeah it—it does.” I saw him fiddle with his fingers and then he said. “(Y/n)?”
“Yeah?” I then noticed that his cheeks started to look rosy, and it wasn’t due to the cold.
“Do you—I mean I was thinking uhh, uhh…..” he trailed off before sighing deeply. “You wanna head inside?” Oh. That’s all he wanted to ask me. He looked like he wanted to say something else.
“Yeah. Sure.” I said solemnly. We both walked back inside and as I closed the door, I noticed something hanging from the door that I know I didn’t see when I got in here. “Uhh Deacy?” he looked at me and I gestured with my head for him to look up. His eyes followed my direction and there we saw it.
Hanging over the door was a small mistletoe.
“How did that get there?” he asked.
“I think I might know.” I looked over to the door and I saw two heads both black haired and auburn quickly hide back behind the door. I looked back towards Deacy and I said. “We don’t have to do it you know.”
“Honestly I…..” he began before trailing off shyly again. His eyes lowered down almost in shame like he wanted to tell me something but he was afraid to say it.
“Deacy?” I softly urged him.
“Would it…..be so bad if I did? I mean cause I’ve always…it’s just that I—” he stammered out before sighing again. That’s when he suddenly leaned in and gently placed his lips over mine.
I felt his chapped lips gently caress mine as he softly kissed me. But then a split second later, he groaned and pressed the bottom of his palms to his forehead in regret.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that. It must be the spiked punch. I’m so sorry (y/n)……” but before he could say anything else, I kissed him back. I cupped his face in my hands as our lips collided in a more passionate dance.
Oh god why hadn’t I done this earlier? Ever since Valentine’s day I’ve been wanting to kiss this boy and now finally on Christmas Eve I get that chance. Even though his lips were chapped, they still felt like heaven against mine.
And when I felt his arms wrap around my waist pulling me closer, I knew I had him.
“FUCKING FINALLY! The ship has sailed!” Elton proclaimed so loudly I’m sure people could probably hear from downstairs.
“Oh Sharon it’s beautiful! They’ve finally did it! I knew they would didn’t I tell you!” wept Freddie.
“FYI (n/n) your bedroom is ready for you in case you want to….”
“Oh fuck off you two perverts! Now get out and leave us be!” I proclaimed as I pushed them a few feet from the door before slamming it on them. “God those two are the worst I tell yah.”
“Couldn’t agree more. Leave those two to their own devices and England would fall.”
“More like the entire world would fall.”
“But they are right about one thing.” I felt his arms wrap around from behind me and felt him nuzzle into my neck. “They did manage to bring us together.”
“Yeah you’re right.” He kissed my temple down to my cheek and then he asked me.
“Now did I hear Elton right about him saying you had a bedroom here?”
“Yeah. Whenever Elton and I would do late night rehearsals or I got a little too drunker than him, which is a miracle might I add, he had one of the thousands of spare bedrooms made up for me so I’ve taken claim of it ever since.”
“And just where might the bedroom be?” he asked as his voice got a bit deeper, huskier and I felt him gently nip at my earlobe. I shivered and I said.
“So we’re really gonna—”
“Only if you want to love. I don’t want to seem like I’m pushing you.” I turned to face him and I said.
“Deacy, to be honest I’ve wanted you since the day we met.” He grinned and pecked my lips once more, this time with a bit more confidence than his last peck.
“Great minds think alike then.” I grinned and took his hand and we raced off towards my bedroom.
The entire night we made love underneath the Christmas moon, memorized each other’s sweet spots and exchanged kisses with each other.
Honestly, that will forever be the greatest Christmas I ever will know.
*Present day*
“I’m so glad we met at that club.” He said as he stroked down my hair.
“Me too. Guess I need to thank Elton and Bernie in our wedding speech for dragging me there.”
“And I’ll need to mention Freddie in mine for that same reason.” He took my left hand which held the diamond engagement ring he had given me earlier this morning.
“I love you my handsome Queen bass player.”
“I love you more, Elton’s first female bassist.” We pecked each other’s lips and continued our cuddle session with my head resting over his heart, my fingers gently tracing patterns over his collarbone and chest while his were stroking through my hair and I felt his other hand rub and stroke down my spine.
Can you do one with Richard Madden where he brings home the robe from GOT and the reader teases him about it?? Fluff please??
thanks for requesting!! sorry it’s so short!
you heard the door to your apartment open and you smiled. that means richard is home from filming for the day.
“i’m in here!” you called from the bedroom.
you heard him kick off his shoes and walk towards the bedroom.
he walked in and smiled at you.
“hello, love.” he said, walking over to the bed. you set your book down and kneeled on the bed so you could reach him. he slowly kissed you and wrapped one of his arms around your waist.
you pulled away and look down at his other arm. “what’s this?” you asked, gesturing to a massive coat hanging over his arm.
“oh, erm, it’s a jacket?” he said.
he began walking away and you followed him. “richie it’s the middle of august, what do you need a jacket for?”
he laughed and you reached for it. he pulled it out of your reach.
“richard, what the hell, let me see it” you laughed.
he eventually gave in and handed it to you. “it’s from set.” he said.
you unfolded it and it was so long it hit the floor.
“oh my god” you laughed. you put it on and he groaned. it was so much bigger than you and it completely enveloped you. “y/n” he whined.
“what? it’s just a nice coat i got from the market” you said in an accent, mocking his own.
“you’re ridiculous” he said. he pulled out his phone and took a picture of you in it.
“do you wear this in the show?” you said, still giggling.
he nodded.
“hmmm. i think i’m gonna keep it.” you joked, doing poses in the mirror with it.
“yeah, because your allowed to do that.” he mocked then kissed you on the cheek.
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