A Kind of Magic (Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor x Reader)

Chapter 1:

     Growing up in the 50's and 60's had it's perks, like the music and amazing fashion. But everyone in America is so conservative, especially concerning women and what we chose to do with our lives. My parents wanted me to find a nice husband and stay at home to tend and cook for his and our children's every need. Never once did they consider I wanted to create a career for myself and not settle down at the age of 22! I'm barely an adult, much less a woman who is ready to give her life up by having children. So, I did what every 22-year-old woman with an early life crisis would do. I moved to London.
                                                                                        1973.
                                                                                            ~
     "(Y/N), so sorry to tell you, love... but you're on band duty tonight." My manager Helena yells at me from across the bar as I start my opening work.

     "Is it just because I'm American?!" I sarcastically yell back to her.

      "No..." She ponders as she wanders over to me and tosses my 'special' apron at my chest. "It's because you're the best waitress we have, and I want Sarah to make shit tips tonight."

     I roll my eyes and turn around so she can unzip my blouse and I can change before we open. "Cruel."

     "The bloody bitch is already late, but we're so desperate for servers, we take what we can get." Helena sighs.

      "Chill out Hel, you can trust me. I'll keep 'em coming back." I wink as I walk to the employee restroom.

      I work at a classic college pub in London. I've been told we used to be extremely popular in the 60's, but recently, Disco has been cooler than Rock n' Roll. I myself prefer Rock n' Roll
over Disco, which is why I chose to work here instead of the local club. Ever since I moved to London though, I have been working my arse off to make enough money to live on my own and pursue my dream career. I want to be a famous makeup artist for celebrities, and eventually release my own makeup line. Wild, to my old-school parents who wouldn't support my dreams. I've worked in dozens of retail stores and restaurants since I moved, even tried my hand at a shady modeling agency. When I found this pub, they immediately offered me a job, finding my American-ness charming. Although, usually with customers I put on a front British accent because people find it easier to take advantage of me when they know I'm American. In retrospect, Sarah and the other waitresses might suck, but at least I'm tight with Helena, the kitchen staff, and I make good money.

      The outfit that us waitresses wear that have to serve the band is sexier, tighter and shorter. I basically look like a go-go dancer with a white bell-sleeve blouse, a black mini-skirt, and thigh-high black latex boots. If the band that plays is popular, and the waitress they have serves them well, chances are, they'll be more inclined to play at our venue again. Which means more customers, that leads to more money for the waitstaff and the pub. It's really simple actually, but to be able to withstand & serve the sexist pigs that grace our stage takes a whole other talent. I'll make more tips tonight serving the band, but are the ass grabs and dirty comments really worth the good money? We'll see.

     I walk out of the employee bathroom in my new outfit and do a twirl. Terry, the head chef, whistles jokingly and Helena gives me the look.

     "You're gonna be making more than tips tonight, bunny." She purses her lips. "Don't let those pigs get in your head..." She pauses. "But also, don't be a prude." Wink.