Queen Imagines 🌟

John: You Play A Prank On Him

John: You Play A Prank On Him

Your P.O.V.

I look down glumly at my lap, fiddling with my hands as I sink into an old leather couch just outside the room in which my boyfriend, John Deacon, and his band mates are recording. They are going on hour six at this point and my head aches as I size up the couch, wondering if I could perhaps squeeze in an hour or so of sleep since it doesn't appear I will be leaving this place any time soon.

Curling up on the couch I close my eyes drifting slowly off to sleep, uncaring in regards to who may be walking by. I am out only for a matter of moments before the crash of Roger's cymbals jerks me awake. How is it that they need to practice the heaviest songs now that I finally am able to nap? I look up and meet the eyes of John who is giggling at the sight of me being woken by the racket. I can't be less amused and roll my eyes straight at his face. He juts his lower lip out in a pout I usually can't resist, but this time I can because the blatant lack of sleep I've gotten these past few days is finally catching up with me.

Swinging my legs over the side of the couch, I stand up in one swift motion and stomp out of the room and down the hallway. I am not sure where I am going, I only know that I need to find some peace and quiet. I even toy with the idea of turning around and having John call a driver to take me home, but far too stubborn, I continue marching down a path to nowhere in particular.

Not like he will even notice if I am gone, you grumble internally. He's been so bloody busy with recording lately. When it isn't recording it's press, when it isn't press it's touring, when it isn't touring it's fans....I stop my thoughts as I feel my eyes stinging with hot tears. Passing a mirror, I see the whites of my eyes are now tinged pink. My hair falls loosely framing my face and dark circles can be made out under my tired eyes. Sleep deprivation is not a friend to me at this time and it's making my emotions run wild, which is probably what is to blame for what crosses my mind next. I wish there was a way to make John feel bad for this. I mean what kind of a boyfriend thinks it's funny that his girlfriend is so tired that she can hardly see straight. Perhaps this train of thought is totally irrational, but I am exhausted and now am excited about the prospect of something for the first time in what feels like weeks...playing a little prank on my dear sweet boyfriend.

Making a sharp right I notice a small storage closet. Looking left and right, I shrug opening the door ever so slightly. It appears to be a costume closet of sorts with an assortment of wigs, robes, and various props--including a large bean bag cushion type chair. Bingo. I'll get a nice quiet nap AND John will have no idea where I am. That'll teach him to laugh at my sleepy self.

Shutting and locking the door behind me, I kneel down and take up a position on the cushion. Not five minutes later I am in a sleep deeper than you could've anticipated. Little do I know, my seemingly small prank is about to turn into a big ordeal.

*2 Hours Later*

John's P.O.V.

Stretching my tired arms I rub a kink out of my neck and set my bass down in its usual place. My stomach growls as I glance at the time and feel remorse knowing the boys and I have been practicing for hours and (y/n) must be absolutely knackered.

I open the door and hold it open for Freddie who walks out of the studio grinning like a mad man. "Drinks on me tonight, boys. Bring (y/n), John." The day has been successful and they want to celebrate, but you can't imagine dragging (y/n) anywhere else. It's time for the two of us to have a lie down. I feel absolutely dreadful about all she's been dealing with for the sake of me and the boys. Take out, wine, and going to bed early is all I can think about as I reply "not tonight, Fred. (y/n) needs some rest. Haven't got quality time with that girl in as long as I can remember."