Summary: You are engaged to Roger Taylor, who of course has busy schedule and this comes into conflict when you try to plan a wedding. After a heated argument, you leave your shared house and contemplate what always and forever meant for you two.
Word Count: 3227
Warnings: Swearing
A/N: This one is super long and I’m not sure how I feel about it but I at least hope you guys enjoy it! It took awhile to write, so I hope it’s not too boring. As always please leave feedback, it helps so much! If you’d like a part two don’t be afraid to request it!! I didn’t proofread either so it may have a few errors…
Cold licked at your face and crept under your clothes, spreading across your skin like the lacy tide on a frigid winter beach while you waited for Roger to open the door. With purple lips tinged with blue and gently chattering teeth you wrapped your arms around Roger in attempt to gather warmth. You felt his body shake as he chuckled. “I’ve almost got it open love, I just have so many keys.” He said, wrapping his free hand around you, and rubbing your arm to keep you warm.
Finally, he swung the door open and he guided you inside, the warmth hitting your face. You let out a shiver as you began to heat up. “It’s so cold out there, my God.” You murmured. “I’m going have to some tea to warm up, would you like some?”
“Of course.” He said taking his coat off. “Did you enjoy dinner though?”
“I did, especially when the guy stopped mid-proposal to ask you for an autograph.” You said, smiling thinking back to the memory. A tall, balding man was down on one knee to the woman in front of him. But when he opened his mouth to pop the question, but his eyes fell to Roger who was sitting with you. Instead of “Will you marry me?” all that came out was “Holy shit, Roger Taylor! Sign this napkin!”
“You’re going to be the wife of a rockstar!” His statement made you roll your eyes playfully. Roger himself was smiling too, when you brought up the proposal. “Would you have said yes if I did that during our proposal?”
You thought for a moment as your poured the tea into your designated mugs. “Well she still said yes, so I have to assume she loved him greatly. Just as I do you,” you said, placing the tea onto the shiny coffee table and snuggling up to your fiancé. Roger wrapped his arm around you, and pulled you close. “I’d have been upset with you, but I still would have to say yes.”
He kissed your cheek as you laughed. You looked at the dainty gold ring with a small diamond in appreciation. Thinking about marrying Roger and spending the rest of your lives together always made you giddy. You looked up at Roger from leaning on his chest, and smiled. He was intently focusing on whatever was playing on the television. “Rog…”
“Hm?” Roger drew himself away from the television to look at you. You sat up to face him. “What is it?” He said, furrowing his brows and pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear.
“I’m really glad your back, I missed you while you were on tour.” You said, trying not to smile. It was his first day back and the past months without him had been so lonely, and the brief phone calls were hardly enough for an actual conversation. “And I’m so excited to marry you…” You murmured with a sigh.
Roger looked at you with love, “I know, I’m excited to marry you…”
“All I could think about was our wedding… It doesn’t have to be big you know? Just friends and family, nothing too flashy. The venue will be some scenic venue…”
Roger laughed, “I’m sure you could go on and on but you’re getting a little ahead of yourself…”
You rolled your eyes. “I know I can’t help it. We have to have it soon, I don’t want to be engaged forever… And you know, a spring wedding would be so lovely…” You said biting your lip.
“Y/N…” He mumbled.
“I was honestly hoping for somewhere in March… March 15th…You know the flowers are so lovely–“ You cut off your daydreaming.
“Y/N!” He said louder this time, causing you to snap your head towards him with a bit of a jump. “I can’t do that.”
You frowned. “What do you mean you can’t do that? It’s our wedding.”
“We’re most likely going to be on tour… I wanted to tell you at a better time but after Christmas we’re going to start recording another album, which means another” Roger said, burying his face in his hands.
“But I just got you back.” You said in a whisper, afraid that the threatening tears would start spill out. “And it’s our wedding…”
He looked at you as you squeezed your eyes shut, no longer caring if you were crying or not. “Y/N don’t cry–“ He leaned to touch your cheek in an attempt to comfort you but you recoiled at his a touch.
“Don’t touch me Roger.” You said, your voice shaking. You scooted away from him.
“Come on don’t be like that, we can plan it for a later date.”
“But then you’ll just have another tour! You’re always busy we can’t even plan our fucking wedding!” You said, as your sorrow quickly melted to angry, hot tears spilling onto your cheeks.
“You know my life is demanding…” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. You both wanted to stop arguing, and you knew nothing but pain would come from this, and still you persisted.
“You won’t even set aside time for our wedding? If you weren’t serious about marrying me, then why did you propose in the first place?”
“Honestly, I don’t know!” He shouted, “Right now, I really wish I didn’t.”
You stood there, numb at the words he just screamed at you. You couldn’t think or feel anything but the pain. Roger could see the hurt on your face, and he wished he hadn’t said it, but there was no going back.
“I need a break…” You mumbled out. He just scoffed as you walked past him toward the door.
“Whatever…” He rolled his eyes. You stopped and just took in a deep breath, trying not to cry and show him how much he had hurt you.
Roger pursed his lips as you grabbed your keys and walked out the door with a slam behind you. He stood there for a few seconds, mad at you and mad at himself. He picked up an old framed picture of you two together and threw it furiously at the door. It fell to the ground with a shatter.
You sat in your car, a chill starting to seep into you, as you sobbed, and gasped for air in between.The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down your face. You felt the muscles of my chin tremble like a small child and you looked toward the window, as if the light down the street could soothe you. There is a numbness, a static, in your head once more, the side effect of a fear of losing Roger. Your hear your own sounds, like a distressed child, raw from the inside. It takes something out of you that you didn’t know you had left to give. Still sobbing, you started your car, and drove to your best friend’s house. In less than five minutes you were at Nancy’s house. Shivering you gently knocked on her door, and she answered it with a look of pity. She already knew why you were upset, because nobody else could hurt you that much except Roger…
Nancy set you up a warm, makeshift bed on her couch, right next to the fireplace. She brought you some hot chocolate. “If you need, anything I’ll be in the next room…” She smiled warmly at you.
“Thank you, Nance.” You said with a small smile. You stared into the mug, thinking back to how happy you were just a few hours ago… You were brought back to the fight, however, and couldn’t help but wonder where you went wrong.
What he said… It hurt you so much. He had said so many times he wanted to marry you, to spend the rest of his life with you…
You laid there, staring up at the ceiling, the only noise the crackling of the fireplace, thinking about the past few years with Roger.
You were lying between the satin sheets, your legs intertwined with Roger’s in your old shared apartment. The light began to seep through your old shared apartment. He had his arms wrapped around you, mindlessly tapping the beat of another new song on your arm. You laughed to him. “That tickles!” You squealed.
“‘M sorry love, I can’t help it.” Roger chuckled. “I didn’t even know I was doing it… Just had a tune in my head…”
“Is it a new song of yours? I didn’t recognize it.” You rolled over to face him.
He shook his head. “I’m not sure yet, it just came to me…”
“Well it seems lovely so far… Although I wouldn’t take my word because I just felt your taps… Also to me, anything you make is lovely.”
He grabbed you by the waist, and swiftly rolled you on top of him. “I know something we can make that’s lovely.” He whispered in your ear.
Despite your goosebumps, you erupted in giggles.
“Not now, Rog, it’s too early.”
You laughed in between his kisses, and mumbled “We can’t not now…” and rolled back over next to him. You rested your head against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat and tracing circles on him with your finger. The you felt about him, the purity of your love… You never wanted it to end.“I wish we could stay this way forever.
“Well why can’t we?” Roger frowned. He grabbed your hand and pressed it to his lips. “We have our whole lives ahead of us.”
“I know but… Who’s to say we’ll always be together…” You said with a sigh. You turned on your side, away from him. There was a moment of silence, and you had a feeling he was thinking about something.
“You know… You could just marry me.” Roger blurted out. You turned over to face him, and he was propped up using his elbow.
“What?” You said in disbelief.
“Yeah…” He mumbled, nodding to himself, as if he was reassuring himself. Roger looked at you, “Marry me.”
“Are you mad? You don’t even have a bloody ring!” You laughed, and couldn’t help but smile.
“Actually…” Roger trailed off. He reached over to his night stand, and pulled out a little velvet box. “I was planning to give this to you on Valentine’s Day, but I think it makes a pretty good engagement ring.” He opened the box, and held up a thin gold ring, with a tiny diamond. “So… Marry me.”
“Roger! I’m not even wear any clothes!” You said, smiling.
“Well, love, I think just the ring on you is still quite fetching.” Roger said with a smirk, pushing your hair behind your ear.
You looked at the tiny ring he held between his fingers, happy tears stinging your eyes. “Well…” He motioned for you to continue, but when you didn’t he looked down at the ring. “So is that a no then?”
You laughed, tears nearly rolling down your cheeks. You shook your head. “No you idiot, I’m just shocked!”
Roger rolled his eyes playfully. “So is that a yes then? You’ll marry me?”
“Of course I’ll marry you!” You said, choking back more tears. He grabbed your left hand, and slid the ring. “Rog, it’s perfect…” You said adoringly.
He pressed his lips against yours, and you could feel the happy tears pour out of your eyes again. He pulled away once he felt your tears hit his own cheek. Roger wiped a tear away with his thumb. “You’re crying…” he mumbled.
“I’m just so happy…” You smiled lovingly at him. “So happy…” You closed your eyes.
He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer once again. “Maybe we will be like this forever. Always and forever…”
The memory faded away just as quickly as it came, and nearly made you cry, and although it was barely a year and a half ago, it felt an eternity ago. Your love then was so pure and raw, and now… Now he wished he never proposed to you.
You looked at the ring, and twisted it back and forth. You didn’t even care about the fact that you had to push your wedding back. All you wanted was to spend the rest of your life with him… But what he said hurt, and he didn’t even seem to care when you walked out… You squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to cry for the what felt like the fiftieth time tonight.
You looked once more at the ring on your finger, remembering why you got engaged to him in the first place. You slid it off for a moment too look at the “Always and Forever” he had engraved on it. It was your favorite thing, because it was pretty much the reason you got engaged to him… You wanted to be with him always and forever…
“I see you’re thinking about him.” Nancy said in the doorway, gesturing with a nod. “I don’t know exactly what you two fought about because I don’t wanna pry… But Y/N, he loves you so much, you can see it in the way he looks at you.”
“He proposed to me so we could have the rest of our lives together. I still want that…” You croaked. “If we are gonna get married, I can’t just walk out like that. I have to work through things.” You sighed, and immediately felt guilty for just leaving. It had been a few hours since you last left, and just hoped he was still home. “Thank you much Nance, I gotta go…”
“Good Luck Y/N.” She said drawing you into a hug. “I hope it all works out. Call me if you ever need anything, okay?” Nancy said with a smile.
You gave her a small nod, and grabbed you keys. The ride back to your house made you nervous, and you hoped he’d taken some time to cool off himself. You were relieved when you saw his car still in the driveway and you practically ran up to the door. The cold nipped at your nose and your teeth were already chattering.
You swung your front door open. “Roger?” You called throughout the house. You started walking toward your bedroom when he came out wearing only pajama bottoms, and closed the door behind. You hoped you hadn’t just woke him up
“W-What are you doing here? I thought you left?” Roger stuttered.
“I did but I realized… I don’t care when the wedding is. Because I get to be with you forever after that, and that all I care about. As long as I have you that’s all that matters. I’m so sorry Rog.” You said, looking up at you. He pulled you into a warm embrace.
“I love you so much Y/N… I’m so sorry.” He kissed the top of your head. You could smell the alcohol radiating from his breath.
You laughed. “Are you shit-faced?” You said, still feeling a little guilty. You quickly kissed his cheek. “Can we please go to bed? It’s been an awfully long–“ You stopped yourself when you heard a laugh erupting from behind the door.
There was silence between you and you froze. You squeezed your eyes shut. “Roger… Open the door.”
“Y/N–“
“Open the door. Now.” You said, anger starting to seep back through. Roger only stood there trying to hide what was behind the door from you. You shoved passed him and open the door yourself. You weren’t surprised to see some blonde, naked under the sheets.
She was still laughing. “Sorry Roger, I know you told me to be quiet but I couldn’t help it!”
Your cheeks burned and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. It was of course funny to her, because you had to look pathetic right now. You turned to Roger, a look of hurt and disgust on your face. “How could you?”
Roger turned to the blonde who was still giggling, still naked in your sheets, laying all over your side of the bed. “Get out. Now.” He seethed. You shook your head, wondering why he was yelling at her like it was her fault. The woman didn’t object, and quickly gathered her clothes and bolted for the door.
He started saying things, but you blocked them out as you started shoving as much clothes as you could into a suitcase. You quickly zipped it up.
“Just let me explain, Y/N! Please!” Roger begged.
You sharply turned toward him. “Explain what? That you cheated on me? There’s nothing to explain!”
“I thought we were taking a break! You said you needed a break!” He tried to reason.
“Just because we were on break doesn’t mean you cheat on me! I still wore this stupid ring!” You ripped off the engagement ring and threw it across the room. You didn’t realize it but you were sobbing now, and ugly crying. Usually you were self-conscious about crying, but he hurt you so much you didn’t care.
“Y/N the ring–please…” Roger cried, tears in his own eyes now.
“I wasted years of my fucking life on you, and you blew it all in one night. One night!” You said angrily in between sobs.
“Just listen to me!” He pleaded, but you didn’t. You lifted up your poorly packed suitcase and quickly walked down your hallway.
You stopped in your tracks. “No. Maybe the girl who was in my bed will listen to you
“But I don’t love her, I love you.”
You turned around, to face him. Your cheeks were wet and you were sure your face was splotchy, but you no longer cared. Roger hated seeing that he did this to you… “Love me?” You cried. “You don’t love me! You’ve never loved anyone but yourself!”
You lifted up your suitcase once again, grabbed your keys, but on your way out you saw a smashed photo frame. You figured Roger threw it when he was mad. Your lip quivered and you swiftly walked out the door, slamming behind you. You stopped at the entrance of your house, and just stood there, sobbing.
You had always been so self-conscious when you cried but now you just gave way to the enormity of your grief. You sobbed into your hands and the tears dripped between your fingers, raining down onto the dampened cement. Your breathing was ragged, gasping and the strength left your legs. You sank to your knees not caring about the grit that dug into your knees. You were noisy, your skin was blotched but there was no-one there to witness it let alone come to comfort you. You could run a mile in any direction and not find another soul. You cried until no more tears came, but still the emptiness and sorrow remained. You could hear the crashing and the yells of frustration, and figured Roger was throwing things as he always does.
Roger threw the lamp across the room, and flung the couch over. He was crying too, now, cause he’d hurt and possibly ran off the person he cared about most. His hands shaking, he picked up the broken picture frame he threw earlier, and set it gently on the table. He stormed into his bedroom, tossing and throwing everything else in sight. However, as he was about to throw another lamp, something glittery caught his eye. Instantly he knew what it was.
He picked up the gold ring, and looked at the “Always and Forever” he had engraved inside of after you got engaged. Roger squeezed the ring in his. Maybe “Always and Forever” wasn’t meant for the two of you like you hoped it would be…
AN: This was a request from my 1K Celebration post, sent in by @edidreamerbird .The details of the story may be a little different, but it’s pretty close. Also, three things in one day?! I have been on a roll. However tomorrow I won’t be able to post much because I’m going wedding dress shopping with a friend, so I guess this is to make up for that. Let me know what you think!
Hi Honey 😚! I just adore your account and writing style so much! Are you still accepting those celebration requests?I was wondering, if you could write one with the gorgeous Roger Taylor/Ben Hardy 🥰?I really love the 13th title on your recommendation list. I was thinking about Roger and the reader being best friends, while the reader is completely in love with Rog, but she is so afraid to confess anything, she’s generally so scared to show any love or passion to anyone, cause she had been betrayed a couple times, before she met Rog, and also had been called a weak and naive girl, too romantic for this world, so this made her act like a strong, confident and independent woman, even in front of Roger, but they spend so much time together, that he’s starting to see her true colors, so he asks her: Why can’t you ever just say how you really feel? Also could the story take place before Christmas, when anyone is getting a little bit more honest and emotional? Love you 💕
It was the most wonderful time of the year. Your favorite time of the year, in fact. You loved everything about it- the snow, the hot cocoa, the decorations, and the general cheeriness that filled the air. It didn’t matter that this time the year before, you had had your heart broken. Nothing was going to ruin the holidays for you.
You attributed a lot of your excitement to the fact that you were actually going to be able to spend the season with your best friend. He was a busy guy, being the drummer in a world-famous rock and roll band, but this year they had the month off. The day he had given you the good news, his blue eyes were lit up like the Christmas tree you were decorating together, and your heart had felt like it could explode. It was always hard when Roger was away, but it was even worse when it was during times meant to be spent with loved ones. Love.
In your experience, there was no feeling quite worse than love. You had been burned by the concept one too many times, and had begun to think that it was just not something that you were cut out for. You used to allow people in so easily- a hopeless romantic at heart. It was always nice while it lasted, but that was the problem. It never did. That’s why, when your eyes started lingering on Roger’s profile a little too long, or your heart would palpitate when he would wrap his arms around you in a tight hug, you started to feel anxious.
You couldn’t have feelings for Roger. He was your friend. You knew how he was when it came to women, and getting involved with him always lead to heartbreak. You loved him, but in a platonic way. Or at least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself. It was safer that way.
“You’re absolute rubbish at this, did you know that?”
You glared at the blond as you continued hanging the ornaments on your now fully assembled tree. The two of you had spent the day putting up all your Christmas decorations, and he had done nothing but complain about how you wanted things done.
“You’re one to talk. It took you thirty minutes to get the lights hung up straight.” You fired back, turning away from the tree to grab more tinsel.
“Well if someone would have helped me, maybe it wouldn’t have been so difficult.” Roger had stepped away from the tree now to admire his handiwork, and then he took a seat on one of the dining room chairs behind him. “Done.”
Once you turned back around, you laughed at the sight. His side of the tree was so densely decorated that you could hardly see the green of the tree anymore. However, he was wearing a proud smile that kept you from criticizing it.
“It’s beautiful, Rog.”
Roger’s eyes met yours and he gave you a wink, the action sending butterflies soaring through your stomach, and you gently draped the rest of the tinsel you had in your hands over the branches of the tree. Several minutes later, you were finished, and joined Roger in a chair of your own.
“I think we make a great team.” Roger said, as he reached over and gave your hand a squeeze. You stared down at his hand wrapped around yours, and had to fight against instantly pulling it away. You could feel goosebumps spreading up your skin, and you tugged on the end of your jumper’s sleeves, trying to hide them. Roger didn’t notice, however, and he removed his hand to pull a cigarette out of his pocket along with his lighter.
“No smoking near my tree!” You cried, as you lurched forward to pull the cigarette from between his lips. Roger made a noise of protest, as he reached over to try and grab it back from you.
“Honestly, woman.” Roger sighed, finally giving up after coming up empty handed after numerous failed attempts. You smiled triumphantly, and set the cigarette to the side. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, just gazing at the tree and various other decorations you had spent the day putting together.
“Let’s go see the lights.” You suggested, breaking the silence. Roger looked over at you curiously, being met with an excited grin. “The ones downtown. I didn’t get to go last year.”
The sinking feeling in your stomach returned as a brief memory of staying locked up in your house the previous year came back to you. The break up really had taken all your favorite traditions away from you, and you were determined to get them back. Roger seemed to think about the idea for a minute, but then nodded enthusiastically.
“Alright, sounds like fun.”
You jumped up from your chair and hurriedly went to grab your coat and gloves. Roger watched you, an amused look on his face. Not having been home the last couple of Christmas’, Roger had never seen how excited you got over the holiday. He found it very endearing, considering the events that had transpired the year before. He had been worried that you would fold into yourself, but it ended up being quite the opposite.
It didn’t take long to get downtown, with your flat being just a few blocks away. The air was chilly, but you didn’t mind. You had a bright, striped scarf wrapped around your neck and your favorite beanie and gloves covering your head and hands. Roger was more under-dressed, only wearing his coat and a hat that didn’t even completely cover the sides of his head.
“Jesus, I didn’t realize it was so cold.” Roger whined, burying his hands in his pockets. You rolled your eyes. You had warned him to bundle up a little bit more, but as usual, he didn’t listen. The two of you continued down the street, your eyes fixated on the different colors that were twinkling and reflecting against the buildings. There was a permanent smile on your lips, and you emitted a happy sigh. You had missed this.
After about twenty minutes of walking, Roger’s whining finally got the best of you, and you stepped into a nearby shop that was selling coffee and other hot drinks. There were couples cuddled up on every sofa around the room, and you tried not to pay any attention to them. Roger had disappeared to order your drinks, and you waited patiently near the door. The room smelled like cocoa and cinnamon, a combination that warmed your heart. Before long, Roger was back at your side, handing you a steaming cup, and gently blowing on his own. You made a move towards the door, but he reached out to grab your arm and pull you back.
“Let’s hang out in here for a few. I’m finally starting to feel my fingers again.”
You sighed, but nodded and grabbed the chair closest to you. Roger shook his head again and wordlessly pointed towards an open sofa near the shop’s fireplace. You felt your heart drop as you hesitantly followed him, passing by numerous people kissing and holding hands. Roger plopped down on the end of the couch closest to the fire, and patted the seat next to him. You obliged him, but sat down as far from him as you could manage. A small frown formed on his lips, but you pretended not to notice.
“Are you okay?” Roger asked quietly, after several minutes of watching your eyes flicker to all the people around you. You could feel your cheeks heat up at the fact that you had been caught, and you hoped that he hadn’t seen the look of longing in your eyes. Regardless of how your heart had been broken, as you sat on the couch with your best friend, you wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you. You wanted him to wrap his arms around your shoulders and pull you close like the other couples were doing. But the two of you weren’t a couple. You shook the thoughts from your mind.
“Of course! How could I not be? The lights have been beautiful.”
The fake-happy sound of your voice sounded wrong, but Roger only had to look at your face to know that you were lying. The confident, exuberant girl that he had spent the day decorating with was gone, and he couldn’t quite understand why.
“YN-“
“Maybe we should head back.” You jumped up from the sofa before Roger could finish his thought. You didn’t want to feel like this. You didn’t want to be sad while out with your best friend, doing the things you loved the most. Roger didn’t object, and stood up to follow you out into the streets. The chill took your breath away, but you welcomed it. The minor shock helped clear your head and you felt your spirits build again. You flashed Roger a bright smile, and a skip returned to your step.
“Of course, you’re happy. You have gloves to keep your fingers from turning into literal icicles.” Roger moaned. You were about to chastise him for forgetting his own when you felt a pressure against your palm and realized that Roger had wrapped his hand around yours. The contact startled you, causing you to wrench your hand back and stare up at him wide-eyed. The two of you were now standing in the middle of the sidewalk staring at each other. Roger had a quizzical look on his face, and you felt like you were going to throw up. It had been an innocent gesture, but your heart and stomach found multiple reasons to reject it.
“What’s wrong?” Roger asked, trying to decipher what had just happened. Your eyes fell down to your hands, staring at your gloves and trying to reason with yourself that it wasn’t a big deal.
“Nothing’s wrong, Rog.”
When your eyes lifted to meet his again, his expression had changed again to one of exasperation. You turned to start walking again, but Roger extended his arm to pull you back.
“Why can’t you ever just say how you really feel?”
You bounced on the balls of your feet, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. Maybe it was the bright lights, or maybe it was the warmth you felt from the cocoa, or maybe it was the memory of how the two of you had spent the day together so happily, but you almost felt like you could cry. You had been so excited to spend these days with Roger, but you hadn’t realized how hard it would be when it came to your feelings.
“Roger, there’s nothing-“
“That’s a bullshit lie, and you know it.”
He wasn’t angry, he was concerned. He knew that this time of year would be hard for you, but he didn’t like the buffer that you were putting up between the two of you. You huffed impatiently, a cloud of smoke forming in front of your face, and you continued to glance around the street at everyone around you. You weren’t sure that you had the willpower or the strength to look back into his blue eyes without crumbling.
Roger’s hand was still wrapped loosely around your arm, and slowly you felt yourself lean in to him. His arms snaked around your waist under your coat, and you rested your head against his chest. Despite him complaining about being cold, he felt so warm against your cheek and you closed your eyes as you inhaled his cologne.
“I love you.” You whispered, hardly loud enough for anyone but yourself to hear over the sounds on the street.
“Of course, I love you too, YN.”
You shook your head violently against his chest, tears now threatening to spill any moment. He didn’t understand.
“No, no. Roger, I love you.”
You gripped Roger tighter as he body stilled, terrified that if you were to let him go, he would disappear. There was an agonizing silence as Roger processed through your words. You almost slid out of his grasp and started running back to your apartment when he finally cleared his throat. You hesitantly lifted your head from his chest and took a small step back so that you could look up into his face properly. You had expected him to look mad, or sad, or even confused, so you were surprised when you saw he was smiling.
“You, YN YLN, are in love with me, Roger Taylor? Are you mad?”
One of the tears that had been building behind your eyes slipped down your cheek and you felt bile rising in your throat. He was mocking you.
“Look, Roger, you don’t have to be-“
Before you could finish your sentence, Roger had wrapped his cold hands under your cheeks and pulled your lips up to meet his in an urgent and passionate kiss. You lifted onto your tip-toes, your hands pressing against his chest for balance. Your head spun, and for a moment you swore your feet actually left the ground. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, not removing his hands from your cheeks.
“That’s good. I’m quite mad myself.” He whispered, before pressing another small kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your smile was so bright it rivaled the lights hanging above you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him into you. The most wonderful time of the year had just gotten so much better.
AN: Thank you all so much for the requests! I’m doing my best to get them out as quickly as possible, while also having a lot going on and dealing with semi-writer’s block. I appreciate all the wonderful comments and support! Enjoy! can you please write roger x reader where reader is in trouble and calls for roger to help?? Like they fainted, or being harassed/followed or something? Thank you, love your writing!! Warning: Mentions of harassment
You tried to ignore it at first. You were a waitress, so there were often those drunk patrons who would hit on you or make you feel generally uncomfortable. You had learned to just politely laugh off their comments, but never give them a reason to think that they could push you any further. However, tonight was different.
There was a drunk man at the bar who had recognized you from a few of your boyfriend’s concerts. The first comment he made had been about your outfit.
“Would your boy approve of how much skin you’re showing off for us?”
You had looked down at what you were wearing: a pair of red shorts and a plain white v-neck shirt. It wasn’t overly revealing so you brushed him off. You went about waiting on your two tables and when you came back to place their drink orders, the man started again.
“How did some scrawny band geek manage to land a fine lady like yourself?”
You rolled your eyes when he couldn’t see your face, but when you turned back to him, you gave him your best customer-service smile.
“He’s good to me.” You replied simply, as the bartender placed your drinks on a tray and slid them over to you. The guy eyed you up and down, a disgusting smirk on his face. You felt your skin go hot with anger, and before he could say anything else, you went back to your tables.
It was the third comment that really made your skin crawl. You had just walked up to the bar to hand over your apron and punch out, when the man grabbed your wrist. Your eyes shot down to where his skin was touching yours, and slowly made their way up his arm until they met his face.
“Why don’t you come home with me tonight, darlin’? I can show you a better time than that diva ever could.”
Immediately, you wrenched your arm out of his grasp and turned to walk away. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you felt like you could throw up. You had people hit on you all the time, but none of them had ever touched you before. The fact that he was willing to go that far made you nervous.
You had just reached the door by the bathrooms when you heard footsteps behind you. You almost didn’t dare look over your shoulder for fear of who it could be, but you did anyways. Your stomach dropped when you saw the creepy old man following a few feet behind you. The smirk was gone from his face and now he looked angry. His eyes were locked on you, and you quickly turned a corner to head towards the backroom that was nearby.
You knew that you couldn’t leave the restaurant now that this man was following you, but you didn’t know how else to get home. Panicking slightly, you pushed the storeroom door open and checked around for the phone. You knew it was late, but you also knew that he wouldn’t mind if you called. He was probably waiting for you anyways.
Your hands were shaking as you picked up the receiver and dialed his phone number. It only took two rings before you could hear his voice on the other side.
“Hello?”
“Rog, I need you to come get me.”
There was a moment of silence, and then you could hear the cord rustling as Roger moved to stand up.
“What’s wrong?”
His voice was strained- worry laced in every word. He didn’t live far from where you worked, and he knew that you normally didn’t have any issues walking home by yourself. For you to call, sounding so distraught, it put him on edge.
“There’s… there’s just some drunk guy who won’t leave me alone.” You twirled the phone cord around your finger nervously as you sat down in one of the extra chairs along the wall.
“Where are you now?”
“I’m in the storeroom.”
“Stay right there. I’ll be there soon.” And then the line went dead. You placed the receiver back on its base and started chewing on the corners of your nails. It was a habit that you had developed any time you felt anxious. You knew that it wouldn’t take long for Roger to get to where you were, but you also knew that if this guy figured out where you were, an “Employees Only” sign probably wouldn’t stop him.
The minutes passed, and the longer you went without hearing anything from the drunk man, the better you felt. After about 15 minutes, the storeroom door swung open, and you felt your stomach lurch. Your eyes fell on the figure who had entered the room, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you at the sight of the familiar blond.
“YN! Thank God, you’re alright.” Roger breathed, rushing over to pull you into his arms. You felt your body melt against him as you buried your face into his neck.
“He was following me, and I didn’t know what else to do.” You murmured against his skin, feeling tears pricking your eyes. Roger squeezed you against his chest even tighter and placed a gently kiss onto the top of your head.
“You did the right thing calling me. Now, let’s get you home.”
You nodded against his chest as he slowly released you. He gave you an encouraging smile as he laced his fingers with yours and led you out into the hall. You breathed a small sigh of relief when you didn’t see the man waiting in the hall or near the door. As you stepped out into the cool, night air and the man still wasn’t there, you realized that he must have gone home.
You and Roger walked to his flat in silence, his warm hand squeezing yours every few minutes as a reassurance that he was still there. Once you were inside his flat, he pulled you in for another hug. For the first time in hours, a smile spread across your lips as Roger’s hand ran up and down your back.
“I’m so sorry, love.” He whispered into your hair. You pulled back out of his arms slightly so that you could look up at his face. He was wearing a pained expression but as you gently ran your fingers across his jaw and up his cheek, it started to soften. You leaned up onto your tiptoes to press a series of kisses across his face and neck. “Maybe you should quit.”
You froze at his words, your eyes fixated on his own. He was smiling softly at you, but you could hear the seriousness in his tone. He had been watching you go through this kind of harassment for a while now, and he hated it.
“Roger, I can’t just quit my job.” You laughed, your hand still cupping his cheek.
“Sure you can. I can take care of you now. It’d be better than getting these phone calls late at night, and finding out that you’re in trouble.”
His blue eyes bore into yours, practically begging you to agree. You knew Roger worried, but you hadn’t realized how much until now. You didn’t like the thought of Roger taking on all of your financial responsibilities, but you couldn’t help how lovely it sounded to not have to work at that horrible restaurant anymore.
“Just until I find something better.” You assured him, causing a bright smile to fully consume his features. The sight made your heart skip.
“Deal.”
He lifted you up off your feet and spun you in several tight circles. When he finally set you down, he ducked his head slightly to press his lips sweetly against your own. In that moment, you had already forgotten about your terrifying experience. Roger was your safe place. Roger was home.
Anon asked:Prompt: angst Roger and y/n because he’s jealous after a party
A/N: 5981 words!! What?!Like, it’s not explicit, but I might have given the reader a slight praise kink. Some sexual content. There is mentions of cheating, just to let you know if that makes you uncomfortable. There might be a problem with pacing but like… suspend your disbelief. Also…. you’ve got a big storm coming.
Your grip is white-knuckled on the armrest as you felt the plane rumble beneath you; anxiety is clutching at your chest as the world falls away beneath the wings of the machine and you’re rising into the sky. Roger isn’t outright laughing from where he’s sitting next to you, but it looks like he wants to. Thankfully, for his sake, he contains himself, resting a hand on your thigh, rubbing it in a gentle, comforting rhythm.
“You’ll be fine, love, these things hardly ever crash, and if this one does, it’ll make the news, probably.” He shrugged, and you glared at him, trying to push down the anxiety curling in your stomach.
“You’re the single least reassuring person I’ve ever met.” You snapped, but he just grinned wider, his hand moving higher on your thigh, your legs part just a little, out of instinct, and you’re too anxious about the flight to even blush at it.
“I could distract you instead.” He offers, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. Something eases in your chest and you relax your grip on the armrest to put your hand on his. “Love?” He asks, watching how you’re leaning your head back against the headrest, eyes closed, like you were trying to go to your happy place, wishing you weren’t trapped inside this plane. His hand twitches to move away when he doesn’t get a response, but then your own hand is guiding his a little further up, and you’re wearing a little, playful smile, though it’s strained. Roger has to bite back a laugh.
“Could you please wait until the seat belt sign is off?” John’s voice interrupts both of you, pressing his face into the space between your headrests where he’s sitting behind you, sounding characteristically exasperated.
“Or wait until we land, like any decent human being.” You can hear Brian’s sigh from where he’s sitting beside John, his words followed by a world-weary sigh.
“You were both cuter when you thought we didn’t know.” Freddie says, matter-of-factly, and Paul hums in agreement, the two of them sitting in the two seats in front of you.
“So were you.” Roger snaps back, leaning back into his chair, sullen at the sudden onslaught of bullying from his band-mates. “And get your bloody face away from mine.” He smacks John’s forehead with his free hand, which has the man retreating, but you’re silently thankful. Despite this, you’re also flushing with embarrassment, which is only quelled when Roger flips his hand over on your thigh to lace his fingers with yours, giving your hand a comforting squeeze.
It’s weird, to be in public, well, sort of public, and to be allowed to actually be with Roger. You’ve always been so hyper aware of his image, careful to keep your distance where prying eyes might be lurking, the last-performance kiss notwithstanding, but here, in the relative safety of first class – and god, that was a mind-boggling realisation – he’d wrapped his arm around you. Once the seat-belt sign has been turned off and the in-flight movie has started, he pulls you into his lap on the luxuriously spacious seat. Everyone on the flight has headphones to listen along to the movie, and the plane is almost silent as everyone looks to the overhead screens. It starts innocently enough, except sitting on Roger isn’t exactly comfortable; he’s got one hand resting on your thigh, innocent enough, and the other on the armrest, but you find yourself shifting every few minutes trying to get comfortable, but it isn’t really working.
“Are you right there?” Roger moves your headphones off of one of your ears, speaking low and quiet, only to you. When you look at him, he’s not even looking you in the eyes, he’s looking at your lips, and you feel your chest tighten, though in a very different way to the plane taking off earlier.
“What?” And you shift again, trying in vain to get more comfortable before you feel him hard and pressing against your ass through his pants, and it dawns on you. After a moment, you lock eyes with him, finally, and wiggle again, deliberate, suppressing a smile. He leans in to kiss you, rough, insistent, his hand on your thigh moving dangerously higher.
“Let’s not ruin everyone’s movie,” he breathes as he pulls back, his hand moving to give your ass a light tap, and you take the hint, taking off your headphones and making a beeline for the bathroom. You find yourself waiting for almost five minutes in the stall before there’s a knock at the door and Roger’s whispering your name. You haven’t even fully locked the door before he’s pulling off your shirt, murmuring about how you both had to be quiet, though he was grinning in that way that made you melt, and made you want to be anything but quiet.
When you head back to your seats none of the others comment on it, though they do seem pretty enraptured with the movie. Your anxiety at flying had dissolved; you’re feeling all warm and syrupy in the afterglow, and Roger clicks down the armrest that separates your two seats, and shifts so that you he can still wrap his arm around you, but you’re sitting next to him, your legs stretched out and arching over his. He puts his own headphones back on, smile supremely satisfied, and you give yourself a little, mental pat on the back, but don’t bother with your own headphones, resting your head on his shoulder and falling asleep, feeling secure and safe with his arm around you.
When you land, you find yourself whisked almost directly to the new tour bus, and you suddenly find yourself filled with a new uncertainty. The space, at least compared to what you were used to, was lavish, not a single road case in sight.
“You guys live like this?” You crowed, eyes wide as you raced through the spacious vehicle, plopping yourself down on the cushioned bench beneath the back window while the rest of the band, and the crew travelling in this bus started getting settled in.
“Well yeah, was the other bus really that different?” Roger asks, joining you, sprawling himself out across the seat. The sheer absurdity of his question takes a moment to sink in, but after that you’re laughing, loud and a little bit uncontrollable, mind alight with memories of hot, bump afternoons riding along at the back of the equipment bus, sat atop a road case, holding a light and gels and trying not to touch the drum kit where it was stacked up beside you.
“God, I would have killed for a cushion.” You breathe, wistful, relaxing further, if it were possible, into the seats. After a beat, you look around at where everyone’s gone quiet; Freddie and John were setting up a board game and Brian was lounging on one of the sofas running along the inside of the bus; you’re pretty sure Roger’s the only one who hears you anyways. “I much prefer it to flying though,” you admit, shifting until you can rest your head on Roger’s shoulder.
“Really?” He asked, voice quiet enough that only you could hear it. “I thought it was a pretty decent flight.” And he reaches up to pinch at your side playfully when the bus starts up. The two of you dissolve into play-fighting, which the others don’t pay much attention to, entertaining themselves as the trip to the first destination began.
“You’re- you- they call you Spotlight, don’t they?” The voice that greets you before for the first crew meeting is bright, eager, faintly accented, and when you turn, you see it belongs to a sweet looking boy with big, brown eyes, clutching at a clipboard. Laughing a little awkwardly, you nod, and his whole face brightens at the confirmation. “I’m Robbie; I’m stage managing, and they’ve got me operating the lights.” He sounds so damn excited, it’s a little endearing, and after a beat, he’s peppering you with questions about the American leg of the tour, which you answer with ease.
You’d been worried, not that you’d ever admit it, integrating into a whole new crew; the American tour was staffed with people you’d been working with for years, and here, everything and everyone was new to you. Seeing Robbie smile, so kind and welcoming, it felt like you could breathe.
“How the crew?” Roger asks, and he’s stuck with fond deja vu, sitting behind his drums, watching you cut a whole new set of gels. You’re humming something he can’t quite pick, but you seem happy enough.
“Yeah good,” you concede, only half paying attention as you work, “they’re nice, very welcoming.” You tell him, and he makes his way to you, sitting beside you on the drum risers, picking up some scraps of the gel. After a moment, your hands still, and you watch his, smiling with confusion, before looking at him. “What-” but he’s looking back at you, and he leans in to kiss you once you look up. Putting the gel and the scissors down, you take his face in his hands, giving him an endearing smile.
“I’m working.” You said softly, but he just grinned, leaning in to kiss you again. It’s fun and easy to be with Roger at times like this, times when neither of you had to worry about what other people thought, or who saw you together; you were happy and so was he, and that’s what mattered.
It gets a bit harder, you realise, when in Glasgow you’re leaving the hotel with the band and a few paparazzi come after you; at first they’re shouting at the band but then they spot you where you’re by Roger’s side, trying to keep your face hidden. You see your picture in some gossip rag the next day when Robbie gives it to you with a long suffering and apologetic look.
“The boss wants you to be more careful about being seen.” He’s rolling his eyes at the boss’s words, however, when you ask him what he means, you learn that you’d been photographed with them in America, and people were starting to speculate that you might be part of the tour group. The Boss thinks it reflects poorly. The rest of the band is in the photo, but you’re the one being accused of being a world-travelling gold digger in the article.
When you tell Roger, or more specifically show him the article and make an offhand comment about not really being seen with the band in public anymore, he throws the magazine across the hotel room, scowling.
“They’re printing lies, Spotlight, what do you care?” He asks. You’re gentle when you step towards him, resting your hands on his shoulders.
“I care about my career and my reputation, Roger, you understand, right?” Voice soft, you don’t move until he looks at you, expression a little hurt. “I know I’m not a gold digger, but if I want to get anywhere in life, I need other people to believe that too.” You explained, and he didn’t exactly seem happy about it.
“You’re fantastic at your job, babe, isn’t that enough?” He asked, and you felt yourself flush, suppressing a grin at the praise.
“I wish it was.” You told him, voice a little forlorn, and he leaned in to kiss you, a silent agreement to your request. After a moment you pulled back, actually letting yourself grin. “You think I’m good at my job?” You asked, giggling, and Roger’s expression brightened as he huffed out a laugh.
“You know I do.” And it’s the most gentle you think you’ve ever heard him, the sweet sincerity shifts as his hands come up to rest on your hips. He knows all too well the effect he has on you when he compliments your work. “How many times do I have to tell you?” He asks, a single eyebrow raised, teasing edge to his tone.
“I mean, if you told me too much I think we both know I’d never get anything done.” And your fingers are nimbly undoing his fly. With a cheeky grin, he kisses you again, rougher, biting at your bottom lip before you pull away.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He muses, watching the way you wet your lips, smiling at him. “You’re very good at other things too, love.”
“I know.” You watch him through your lashes, biting your lip to keep from laughing as his whole face lights up and he’s snorting out a laugh at your response, and you fall to your knees, already pulling down the waistband of his jeans.
He doesn’t like that you insist on leaving the hotel at different times, becomes a little clingy in the mornings when you go to get up, but he always manages to tug you back down to him, and you get lost in the way he smiles in the early morning sunlight, the feel of his lips on yours, the way he laughs softly against your skin.
Despite this, he keeps his distance around other people. The band he doesn’t worry about, but he stays up by his drums during lunch, and sometimes during the after parties you attend, he’ll disappear for a few hours at a time, and you find him at the bar, reasonably hammered, surrounded by fans fawning over him. He always goes home with you though, so you try not to feel too jealous.
“Hey, Light? I’m getting lunch, do you want anything?” Things start going downhill the day Robbie pops his head in during your lunch break; you’re at the top of a ladder, fiddling with the angle of a parcan, and Roger’s at his drums.
“No thanks.” You call back, chipper, shooting the ASM a smile, and when he leaves, Roger frowns at you.
“Did he give your nickname a nickname?” He punctuates it with a laugh, but it sounds more angry than anything else.
“That’s Robbie,” your explanation does not seem to placate him. You’d been spending a lot of time with Robbie, the two of you bonding over both having worked on Bowie’s last tour. “He’s German.” You add, as if the fun fact might warm Roger to him.
“I know how to pick accents.” He snapped back at you, and you actually stopped your work to look at him, a little shocked and defensive at his tone. He’s not looking at you, he’s gone back to watching the door.
“He’s the ASM, Rog, chill out, we work together.” You tell him. He doesn’t respond, and all you can do is go back to your work, a squirming discomfort making itself known in your chest.
He disappears after the show that night, not coming to find you after bump out like he usually would, and you try to assume the best; that he’s too high from adrenaline and the endorphins of such a good show that he’d wanted to ride the hype the rest of the band. It wasn’t deliberate, you told yourself.
“You going to the after party?” Robbie asks carefully, hands in his pockets, still wearing his own theatre blacks. You realise you must look a little lost, and when you decide that you are, you tell him, and he offers to walk with him. He’s sweet, excitedly gushing about how he can’t wait for the Munich show so he could see his girlfriend, and you find yourself enthusing about how exciting it is to be travelling around Europe. Once you step foot in the pub, the two of you part ways, Robbie heading for the bar, and you seeking your own boyfriend.
His whole face lights up when he sees you, and the anxiety that had been building in your chest dissipates when he wraps his arms around you, spinning you around.
“I’m sorry, I got caught up.” He told you, but he doesn’t kiss you, just pulls you down to the sofa with him where Freddie’s in the middle of an animated discussion with Brian.
It happens again at the next stop, he leaves you behind and you make your way to the after party talking with Robbie. He’s kind, sweet, looking forward to marrying his high school sweetheart. If you’re being honest, it’s nice to have someone to talk to who understands your side of touring, being another interchangeable face to the talent you’re helping, someone down to earth and . He gushes about how jealous he is of your friendship with the band, starry eyed in the cool night air.
Again, when you arrive at the venue, Roger’s already there, and he doesn’t get up this time, just beckons you to him with a bright smile. It doesn’t ease your discomfort like you hoped his smile would.
“Are you mad at me?” You ask gently one night; the two of you were walking in relative silence, side by side, not touching for fear of paparazzi, you try to justify.
“No, why?” He asked, and you look at him, eyes narrowed as you examine him, and his smile is a little far away when he looks back at you. After a long moment of silence, he takes your hand, pulling you both to a stop, facing each other. He wraps his arms around you, still giving you that far away smile, and he kisses you. “I’m sorry I keep leaving you behind, love.”
“So you’re not mad at me?” You confirm, stepping back and taking his hand, continuing to walk.
“Of course not; should I be?” And the way he says it, so perfectly fucking harmless, has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.
“No!” You defend, and he’s laughing easily in the moonlight.
It keeps happening, sporadically, and it always seems to coincide with whenever he sees you and Robbie together, or Robbie comes in to offer to get you lunch, and you know what’s happening before you dare to admit it.
On some of the nights where you opt to go straight back to the hotel, you’re woken by him flopping into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to him, warm and protective, at odds with the discomfort in your chest.
“Missed you.” He yawns, smelling of alcohol and cigarettes, and one time, of faint, fruity perfume that you don’t recognise. When you ask him, he says that someone spilled a cocktail on him, and you realise you can’t even tell if he’s lying or not.
“You jealous?” And you can hear the sleepy smirk in his words, and your own tired mind is unguarded, unfiltered.
“A little.” You whisper into the silence of the hotel room. He doesn’t answer you, but his grip on you tightens, and he hums, the meaning of which you can’t decipher. It takes you a long while to get to sleep after that.
It comes to a head a few weeks later, however, the night they perform in Paris.
“I miss her so much.” Robbie bemoaned you as the two of you walked together, his arm tucked into yours as he waxed poetic about his now-fiance. “She sent me a care package and I swear I almost cried in front of the sound operator.”
“Why?” You laughed, and Robbie groaned.
“I opened it in the bio box because I picked it up from the front desk on my way here, like right after checking in.” By the time you get to the after party, the music is already blaring, and like always, you split up to go your respective ways. Roger greets you warmly, making room for you on the sofa he was sprawled on, wrapping an arm around you as he continued his conversation with a starry-eyed groupie, who didn’t even acknowledge your presence. You make conversation with John, who’s hovering near the arm of the sofa, bopping along to the music, looking a little bit longingly at the dance floor.
Roger goes to get a drink a little while later, smiling and asking if you’d like anything, and as soon as he’s gone, Robbie, now quite plastered, pours himself into the empty seat.
“I called her- Spotlight, I miss her so much – and she told me she loves me and she can’t wait until I get home; should I walk back to Germany? I wanna see her.” He asked, words blurring together a little from his accent and his inebriated state, and he rests his head on your shoulder.
“This is Robbie; he misses his fiance.” You explain to a confused looking Freddie, who’s expression melts into one of adoration, and he ‘aww’s at that. Robbie is starry-eyed for a long moment, before he turns to you.
“Should I walk to Munich? I miss her.” He reiterates, and you burst out laughing, petting his head fondly.
“No, don’t walk to Munich, you should go home, we’ve got a big day tomorrow.” You tell him, and he groans, clearly not having received the answer he wanted. Instead, you get to your feet and offer him your hand. “I’ll walk you back, we’re staying at the same hotel.”
You find Roger at the bar with one of your arms around Robbie’s shoulders where he’s pretty much legless, the lightweight. There’s a muscle jumping in Roger’s jaw when he sees you, and you hesitate, giving him a confused look.
“Hey, I’m just going to take Robbie back to his room, okay? I’m probably going to bed after.” You tell him. He doesn’t smile, just offers you the drink he got you and blinks slowly when you wave it away. “I’ll see you later, okay?” You ask gently, hoping to get a response from him, but he’s just giving Robbie a sour, calculating look. Robbie is transfixed by the lights behind the bar and does not notice.
When you finally get Robbie into bed, much later than you would have thought since he insisted on stopping at everything that caught his interest, and taking five minutes of standing still and explaining how beautiful his fiance’s eyes were, he’s still wearing his shoes. Once under the covers, he grabs your hands and looks you in the eyes, suddenly serious.
“You’re good. You’re a good sort, Spotlight.” He tells you, his accent coming in just a little thicker with his sincerity, and he pets your hands, before abruptly turning away from you and pulling the blankets up to his nose, clearly tapping out for the night.
The room you shared with Roger was just a few floors up, and you’re in the elevator when you realise you’d left your keys in your room. You usually did, you always went back with Roger, so you usually didn’t need them. When you approach the door, you think you hear murmuring from the other side, but it could have been from across the hall, you don’t think about it too much as you knock. There’s a giggled ‘shhh’ from the other side of the door that’s less easy to play off, but you’re tired enough to think it’s just mostly-asleep Roger. You knock again, but no-one replies. It’s too late to knock too much, and you know he’s a deep sleeper, so with a heavy, tired heart, you make your way down the hall.
“What do you want?” Paul’s frowning at you when he opens the door, wearing his blue pyjamas, squinting at you.
“Keys to the bus please, I need somewhere to sleep, Roger’s not answering.” You tell him, and punctuate it with a yawn. After a beat more of watching you, as if assessing your motives, he disappears back into his room and reappears with the keys.
“Don’t lose them.” He warned, before closing the door on you.
The sofa in the bus is long enough that you can spread out, and you find someone’s fur coat to use as a blanket. It’s comfortable enough, a little cold, and it’s only when you hear a banging on the door and feel the sunlight on your face the next morning that you get up.
Opening the door, you see Roger standing there, looking up at you, waiting for entrance. Moving back to your makeshift bed, you take a seat, giving him a confused smile.
“I… didn’t think you’d actually be here.” He already sounds like he’s in a mood, bitter, but a little bit hesitant.
“Of course I stayed here, I knocked but you didn’t answer- what was up with that?” You asked, punctuating it with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. He watched for a moment before he slid his sunglasses down his nose to glare at you over them.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, voice a little hoarse and scratchy, moving from hesitant to just quietly angry, the venom in his words hurting like a physical slap, and you sat up straighter.
“I’m-” And you’re searching for the words, but none come to mind.
“Why are you still on this bus?” He explains in a hiss. After a beat, he slides his glasses back up his nose, and turns to look away from you, a clear dismissal.
You’re at a loss as to how to explain that you’re here because… well, you’re always here, it’s where you were now. He’s the one who’d brought you here.
“What do you mean? You’re the one who wanted me here.” Standing your ground, you don’t dare let your voice betray how confused and hurt you were feeling.
“Yeah, well now I don’t.” He snapped. His words hit you squarely in the chest, and he leaves you in your shocked, dazed silence, moving to the back of the bus. “Fuck off back to the equipment bus, since you prefer it so much better.” He snarled, and that’s what unfroze you.
“Christ, I don’t get paid enough to deal with whatever this is and ride in that bus, so that’s a resounding ‘no thanks’. And more importantly; what the fuck has gotten into you?” Emotion comes crashing back into you, rage tearing through you like a tidal wave, and you turn on him, jaw clenched.
“’Whatever this is’” he snorted, low and bitter, “yeah, but you get paid enough to fuck that little, brown-haired cockhead?” He asked, and your eyes went wide.
“Who? Robbie?” You asked, voice dangerously calm. “You think I’m fucking Robbie? Our assistant stage manager? Who just proposed to his girlfriend at our stop in Munich? That brown-haired cockhead?” You snarled, advancing on Roger like a predator cornering her prey, bitter tension gathering across your skin.
“Was he the one crying on your shoulder last night at the after party?” Roger raised an eyebrow, but the sting had left his words. Narrowing your eyes, you confirm with a single, venomous ‘yes’. “Oh.”
“Is that why you locked me out last night? You thought I was-”
“I was angry, okay?” He cut you off, sitting down at the back of the bus, and though his tone is angry, his demeanour, the way he’s avoiding your gaze and fiddling, it’s… almost guilty. In that moment, it was as if you’d been splashed with cold water, an icy realisation slithering down your spine.
“What does that mean?” Voice level, you try not to jump to conclusions, but your heart is already sinking. He doesn’t answer. When he turns away, you see a hickey on his collar that wasn’t there yesterday. “Roger, what did you do?” You asked, and the hurt was already bleeding through into your words.
“I was… I was so fucking angry.” It’s not a real answer, it’s not even a real excuse. The way he says it, jaw clenched, heart in his throat, he’s all but bleeding guilt, too proud to ask for forgiveness.
“Bullshit.” Your can feel tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill, but your hands are shaking with anger, hurt, betrayal, and you don’t even care. “You’ve been weird for weeks, you were just looking for the first out you could get.”
“Y/N.” He stands, reaches out to grab your shoulder, but you step back, out of his reach.
“No.” Your voice is firm, but your lip is quivering. “I don’t want you to ever touch me again,” wrapping your arms across your chest, looking at his outstretched hand with disdain through your tears. “Being angry isn’t an excuse. Jumping to conclusions isn’t an excuse. I get that it must be fun fucking around with the girl who makes you work for it by your standards, but,” shaking your head, you sniffle, holding yourself a little tighter with one hand, you wipe away your tears with the other, “the moment you have to work, have to put in a little bit of fucking trust? You couldn’t even do that.”
“Spotlight, please-”
“I’m in fucking Europe for you, Roger! What in your fucking, dumbass mind thinks that I’m someone who travels halfway across the world with someone just to cheat on them?” You’re yelling now, grateful to be alone and worrying that others would join you at any minute. You didn’t want them seeing you like this.
“For me? You’re here for work! I’m opening doors for you in the industry that you’d never have opened yourself!” And he knows even as he’s saying it that it’s the wrong thing to say, but he’s too furious at himself, lashing out at the only person he could. He watches as your expression turns shocked, before shattering, and you start bawling your eyes out, holding your face in your hands. Regret floods through him, but as he steps forwards to comfort you, you yell for him to fuck off.
“I can’t- I can’t leave can I? If I leave the tour, they’ll think the tabloid are right, that I’m some dumb groupie.” And you turn, distraught, and curl up on the sofa along the inside of the bus, still bawling, loud and ugly, great heaving sobs wracking your body as you realise the full extent of what had happened, and what it would mean for you. “You’ve ruined my fucking career.”
“That’s a bit of an overstatement.” He can’t even bring himself to apologise, sitting back against the window of the bus, watching as you curl yourself into a ball, the only sound filling the silence being your sobbing. It hurts, his heart is fucking aching, but he couldn’t admit it. When you raised your head to look at him, your eyes red rimmed and lip trembling, he feels only a white hot guilt fill him from the inside out.
“You don’t get it, this industry is about who you know, and if all I am is some girl who Roger Taylor fucked, flew across the world, and got bored with, it doesn’t matter how good at my job I am, I’ll just be another groupie with aspirations.” And you bury your face in your hands again.
“We could… pretend like nothing happened, until the end of the tour.” He offers, quietly, the weakest hail mary pass you’d ever heard, and you roll your eyes at him.
“I’d rather have my dignity, thanks.” You spat, taking in a deep shaking breath as you finally sat up, wiping fruitlessly at your eyes as tears continued to flow, though you tried to pull yourself together.
“You’re not under contract, you can leave if you want.” And it might literally be last on the list of things you’d wanted to hear at that moment.
“I get it, Roger, you don’t want me around.” You snap, standing. “You are who you are; I was stupid to think you were better than that.” You sniffled. When you turn and leave, he’s silent, replaying your words over and over again in his head until he’s absolutely livid at what he’s done.
When the rest of the band returns almost a full half an hour later, he’s trashed the entirety of the bus, even going to far as to rip up the cushioning on the bench beneath the back window.
“So you’ve heard the news I take it.” Brian looks at the scene before them, voice and demeanour both surprisingly nonchalant, and Roger, breathing heavily amid the carnage, gives him a sharp look. “Spotlight’s heading home, something’s come up with her family.” He explains. Behind him, John’s already started picking up a fractured mug, and Freddie is just frowning at Roger.
“Yeah?” Is all Roger says, snatching up the cushions from where he’d thrown them, and flopping himself onto the back bench, facing away from them all.
“She’s just talking to the production manager if you’d like to say goodbye.” Freddie offers, carefully neutral, and Roger suspects he knows something’s up with the story.
“She doesn’t want to see me.” He huffed sulkily, and the others lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. They can tell it’s a touchy subject but they don’t pry. They don’t hear from you, don’t even know how to contact you if they had been able to, instead they watch Roger pick up different girls night after night, trash hotel rooms, and grow shorter when interacting with the crew, especially the assistant stage manager.
“I am who I am.” Is all he says, lips around a cigarette where he’s chain smoking in the empty theatre at lunch when Freddie finds him and finally asks what’s wrong. Freddie wants to ask what happened, wants to ask why you really left, but he knows Roger well enough to figure most of it out. Roger’s a ticking time bomb nowadays, so he doesn’t pry.
The band doesn’t talk about you, not when paparazzi and reports yell out asking where you are, not to the crew, they barely talk about you to each other, and they never talk about you around Roger.
The bus is quieter now.
Roger’s louder now.
There’s an ache in his chest that won’t go away, that he’s filling with meaningless sex and too much booze because he can’t stand waking up alone, and he still thinks about what you said, and the way you had smiled at him before it all went to shit. He remembers how you’d risked your life for a light beneath his drums, and sometimes at breakfast he finds himself thinking about how you’d thrown a plate of food in his face before you were even real friends, and he wants to yell, to scream, because how could he be so fucking stupid? You’d seen him for who he was, and chose to be with him despite it, you thought he could be better than his reputation, but he’d just managed to prove he wasn’t.
It hits him when he’s got his hands on some girl whose name he doesn’t know that all he can think about is you, and he hates himself when he leans into the fantasy, not that the other girl notices. He’d rather fuck around than admit he’d developed feelings for you, and so he does, and pretends like he doesn’t miss your sleepy, morning grin, or the casual way the two of you would chat as you were rigging the spotlights for the band.
The day he finds out they’ve replaced you, the kid they’ve got is at the top of the ladder during lunch when he walks in, and he’s hit with such a sense of deja vu that he stops in his tracks.
“I was told this is the best time for me to get work done.” Her voice, thank god she sounds nothing like you, is hesitant, with none of the calm confidence you exuded at the top of the ladder.
“It’s none of my fucking business.” Roger snaps, and turns on his heel and leaves, pretending like it hadn’t felt like he’d just seen a ghost. He gets another drink.
Summary: Roger and Reader are best friends, or were, but recently he’s grown more distant. While cleaning her apartment, Reader finds an old letter that was accidentally tucked away. In said letter, he pours his feelings out to her.
Word Count: 2515
Warnings: Just a bit of swearing
A/N: This is my first Roger Taylor fic, and the first fic I’ve written in awhile. It might be boring at first but just try to keep reading, I’m sorry. I really hope you enjoy this, because I worked hard on it. I’m not sure how I feel about this so feedback would be greatly appreciated. If you liked this enough to want a part two, please tell me! Also, this is inspired by Love, Rosie. (I didn’t proofread excuse any errors)
The winter air in Seattle was crisp and cold, and you had bundled yourself up with a cozy, light pink sweater. You struggled trying to find the correct key to your apartment due to your nonstop shivering, and your filled hands. You had just gotten your groceries for the week, and it was the coldest week of the year so far.
You had finally entered your apartment, and the warmth from the heater hit your face. You let out a sigh of relief, only for your phone to start ringing. You rushed to the kitchen, as you were afraid the person calling would hang up after too long. You reached for the phone and held it to your ear. “Hello?”
“Y/N! It’s Roger! I just wanted to call and say hi!”
“Oh, hey.” You said in an awkward tone. He hadn’t called in so long, and he’d just seemed so out of reach lately.
“So, how’ve you been?”
You sighed. “I’ve been alright. The hotel’s been busy with the holidays coming up soon. We also got new furniture in most of our rooms. How about you Rog?”
“Well the tour’s been crazy I’m not gonna lie, but a good crazy. Right now we’re in this crazy fancy hotel, the Blue Moon Hotel. You’ll have to take tips from them.” He laughed to himself. You really missed his laugh… “We’re gonna perform in Los Angeles tomorrow night, we’ve been all over the US now…” He said trailing off. “Tour’s almost done, thankfully.”
“Oh did you already come to Seattle?” You said biting your lip, hoping he’d say no.
“Yeah, but I didn’t want to bother you,” he said, in a quieter voice now, “Plus we were just busy…”
“I wish you would’ve come by and visited… I miss you, Rog.” You sighed, trying to think of the last time you had seen him.
“Yeah… Look Y/N, Brian’s bothering me, says I’m taking too long, but I’ll talk to you soon hopefully.”
“Wait Rog—“ You started, but he had already hung up. With a sigh, you put the phone back on the wall and thought about Roger. He had been so distant the past few months, and it honestly hurt you. You had known Roger since college, and you even kept in touch after you moved across the globe to Seattle to run your own hotel. You’d gone to a lot of his concerts and talked to him all the time before. Now you were lucky if he called once per month, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why. He used to be one of your closest friends.
You’d never admit to it, but you fell for that annoying blonde boy years ago. Back when you were in uni, your boyfriend at the time cheated on you, and Roger found you crying after class. At that point you were already close friends, and he comforted you. You saw your ex-boyfriend later that day with a black eye, and you didn’t suspect Rog until you saw his knuckles. You thought it was kind of an ass thing to punch the guy, but sweet at the same time.
However, ever since he’s been in Queen, he’s always occupied with some skinny, tall girl, and you never think he’d look at you that way. So over the years, you gave up hope, but it’ll always hurt to know he never loved like that.
The rain began to tap on your windows, and you decided to watch the television to take your mind off things. A christmas movie was playing before it cut to a commercial that you had seen fifty times before for soap. You rolled your eyes and grabbed an old magazine that had been sitting on your table for too long. Instantly as you grabbed it, a piece of paper fell out. You frowned and realized upon further inspection that it was a letter addressed to you.
At first you figured it was just a card from your mom but when you opened, you recognized Roger’s handwriting immediately. The letter was dated from six months, and it dawned on you that it got stuck in the magazine during delivery.
What puzzled you the most was that he wrote an actual letter, it was so unRoger-like… He wouldn’t have done this unless it was important. You could feel your heart beating in your chest as you nervously ripped open the sealed envelope.
You began to read the letter as you held your breath in attempt to prepare for what the letter might hold.
Dear Y/N,
Look, don’t make fun of me for writing a letter. I know it’s weird, and not “Rogerlike” as you say, but I didn’t know how else to get this off my chest. Tour starts up again soon, which is why I’m writing this letter now. Everything I’ve been thinking and wanting to say to you for years are overflowing from this pen. I’m leaving this letter so you don’t feel pressured to give me an answer in a moment, so you have a lot of time before we see each other again. I know you will need to take your time trying to decide the answer to what I’m about to say. It’s a lot.
I know you, Y/N. You’re my best friend. I can see it in your eyes when you’re happy or sad, angry & mad… You can never lie to me, because your eyes betray you. I know you more than anyone in the world, maybe better than you know yourself. And I don’t want just any guy to date, because that isn’t what you deserve.
You deserve someone who loves you with his entire heart, and thinks about you every second of the day. Someone who constantly just wondering where you are, what you’re doing, who you’re with, and if your okay. You should be with someone who loves all of especially your flaws. You should be with someone who can make you laugh, dance your weird dances, and someone who will never hurt you. Someone who should’ve taken a chance to be with you years ago insteading of being afraid to try.
But I’m not afraid anymore, Y/N, and I’m not afraid to try like I used to be. I want to be with you and I want to be the person who gets to love you. I know it’s crazy and I know it’s a risk. I love the little things you do, your laugh, your smile, the way you care for others…
And don’t think I’ll constantly be sappy like this. This isn’t the Roger you know and trust me this is kind of weird for me too, but I don’t know any better way to tell you.
I can be a lot, I know that. And so can my life, the whole band thing with the tour and fans… It can be a lot, too. But I hope that you love me enough too that it won’t matter.I get it if you don’t feel the same way about me, and when I come back, we can act like this never happened. I never wrote this letter, and I never told you all this sappy stuff.I’d be okay with that, as long as you’re happy. We can still be best friends, and I’ll be okay with knowing that I tried. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t love me that way.
But if you do maybe like me… Fucking tell me! Please.
Love ya,
Rog.
You blinked, still trying to process. You could feel how much emotion Roger had poured into the letter, and that was a lot for him. You were left breathless, and just sat there in silence with the rain pouring down outside. Roger loved you… He really did.
Roger, the boy who made your nineteenth birthday by throwing you a surprise party. Roger, the boy who you had gone out as friends with so many times, hoping it end up to be a date. Roger, the boy who promised he’d always be there for you and protect you. Roger, the boy who you had fallen in love with over the years. He loved you back…
You could barely think, but you knew all you wanted to do was see him. And that’s how you ended up shoving anything and everything in a suitcase. You speeded out of the building and into the pouring rain. Somehow, you were able to buy a ticket for the next flight to Los Angeles. It was a crappy aisle seat, though.
The flight there was short in comparison to others, but for you, it was the longest flight in the world. It didn’t help that the kid behind you kept kicking, and the gross man next to you was snoring. But you couldn’t complain, because you were finally going to see Roger.
Once you landed in LA, you were astonished by how warm and sunny it was at this time of year. The roads were packed and the hustle was nonstop. There weren’t any hotel rooms available last minute, so you unfortunately had to settle for a dingy motel room that smelled like mold and burnt popcorn. But again, you couldn’t complain because you were finally going to see Roger.
You remembered during the phone call he said he was staying at the Blue Moon Hotel for the weekend, because you liked the name and it did sound really fancy…
You took a cab and twenty minutes later, you were there. Roger was right, it was crazy fancy. There was a long, soft, shaggy carpet that stood out against the pristine marble floor, and the couches in the lobby looked incredibly soft… Your admiration of the hotel’s lobby was cut short by someone calling your name.
You swiftly turned on your heel to find Brian all alone, smiling at you. “Hey Y/N, how’ve you been?” He brought you in for a hug. Brian was always so nice to you, so were Freddie and Deaky. “We’ve missed you!”
You beamed at him. “I’ve missed you guys a lot, too. Sorry I’ve not been around as much.”
“Don’t worry about it, I know it’s not your fault. Anyway what are you doing here?” Brian said.
“Well I came to look for Rog, I’ve got to tell him something.”
“That’s a long way to come for Roger, but I’m glad you’re here. He’s in room 2187 on floor 4.”
“Thanks a lot Brian.” You said, pulling him into another quick hug. “I’ll see you later.” He smiled at you.
You sped walk to the elevator instead of running so you didn’t stand out as much. The elevator ride seemed to take forever, and you regretted not taking the stairs. You heard a ding and once again sped walked out.
The hotel hallway was bright and clean, and you hated how nice it was here. The numbers drew closer to Roger’s room, and you were currently at 2179. Then 2185… And then you froze.
You stood for a moment, only holding the letter he had written a few months ago. Nerves began to bubble up and you were terrified. But nonetheless you softly knocked at the door. You could feel your heart practically beating out of your chest. You could hear footsteps from behind the door, and then you heard it unlock. The door swung open, and you couldn’t help but grin.
Your smile faded quickly when you weren’t met with the face that made you come all this way. It was a brunette, and she was wearing nothing but a button up shirt. “Are you here for room service or…” She began. The girl must’ve understood by the confused look on your face that you weren’t. “Are you lost? I don’t know what you’re here for.” She said in almost a rude tone.
“Who is it Connie?” You heard his voice. Your face burned and you felt like crying right then and there. However, you wouldn’t allow yourself to do so.
“I— Nevermind.” You said, and with that you turned around. You clutched the bag that hung across your body as some sort of security. Your hands were empty now, and you realized you dropped the letter at the doorway, but it didn’t matter now, did it?
“It was just some girl…” You heard the brunette say far behind you.
You were close to the elevator now, and far away from Roger. This dream turned into a nightmare and all you wanted was to go home.
Roger, back in his room, walked over to the where Connie was standing. “Who was it?”
“I think she was lost, but whatever. God, why is room service taking so damn long?” She rolled her eyes, heading back towards the bed. Roger stepped out in the hallway, looked left and right before hearing a crunch under his foot. He studied it before picking it up… It was really crumpled at this point, but he was able to make out “Love ya, Roger.” And he instantly knew it was the letter he had written you.
“Shit” he mumbled to himself. He tried to chase after you down the hallway, and ran as fast as he could.
You pressed the lit up button in the elevator and then you saw him standing there, at the end of the hallway. His blonde hair was a mess and he wasn’t wearing a shirt, just sweats. It was the first time you’d laid eyes on him in months… You locked eyes with him, and then shook your head. “Y/N, wait I can explain!” Roger began to run toward the elevator, but then the doors in front of you closed.
Finally alone, you started let the tears roll down your face, and sobs escape. You felt foolish to think it’d work out, or that he’d even wait for you. Of course you didn’t mean that much to him, how stupid could you be… The elevator doors opened, and you wiped your eyes as you entered the hotel lobby.
You started to head for the door when you heard, “Y/N wait!” You froze instantly recognizing the voice, and didn’t turn around.
“Please go back Rog, I shouldn’t have come.” You sighed out. “Connie—Is that her name—I’m sure she’s waiting for you.” You said, almost in a whisper, your voice quivering. You squeezed your eyes shut.
Although you didn’t mean it in a rude way, your last words were a slap in the face to Roger. He was left speechless, and couldn’t find the words to say, even though he wanted to say so much… He noticed the pain and the sadness in your voice, and he didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Roger just thought you ignored his letter.
You looked back at him over your shoulder, a sad smile on your face. “Goodbye Rog.” You walked out of the hotel, leaving the man who you once believed was the love of your life, behind.
Summary: Based off of a Star is Born, Roger is captivated when he first lays eyes on Y/N, performing on the stage at open mic night. He takes a chance and asks out, and they end up spending the rest of the night together.
Word Count: 3278
Warnings: Just a little swearing
A/N: Sorry for the repost, tumblr is shit and it didn’t show up under the tags. This is only my second fic, and I didn’t proofread. It’s not exactly like A Star is Born but heavily inspired by it. Idk how I feel about it to be honest, I said smile/laugh sooo much. I tried to not make it super cliche, but I still hope you really like this! I still didn’t proofread so excuse any errors please!
He was exhausted of the flashy parties with girls crowding around him, each out-flirting the last. Roger couldn’t complain—he loved the parties and the endless line of girls, but he was just simply tired of loud and crazy parties. He only wanted a break for one night.
So while his band-mates went off to another party after their concert in Seattle, Roger decided to just go to a mellow, and quiet bar. Walking around the dim streets, he’d only find bars full of annoying college kids or full of people drowning their sorrows. He was about to head back to the hotel until he was drawn to a specific bar. A blue neon sign so bright that it hurt to look at, read “Blue Moon Bar,” and had flashes of stars around it. It was beyond freezing at this point, and nearly pouring rain, so Roger decided it’d be best to at least try this bar out. At least it had an intriguing name…
When he stepped in, it was dead silent, and everyone’s eyes were drawn to an older women singing on the stage. Great, he thought, It’s open mic night… Roger figured he could at least order a beer or two, maybe it’d actually be fun to see people fail at sing.
After a few good singers and definitely a lot of bad ones, there was only one singer left. The host, a young girl who herself sang terribly earlier, stepped on the stage to announce the last song. “And now, everyone’s favorite, our very own Y/N!” Roger almost laughed to himself thinking about how awful the other singers were… How good could this Y/N really be?
A girl with shining, curled, y/h/c hair stepped on the stage, standing out even though the lights were dim. She was wearing a slim fit, black dress, with white gloves that went above her elbows. Roger couldn’t lie, he was struck by her appearance… Nonetheless, he still believed her singing was going to be absolute shit.
“Well hello again Blue Moon Bar, I’m so glad to be here again.” Y/N smiled into the mic, her eyes full of excitement. “So I’ve sang this song before, but it was a long time ago. Now, I’m taking you back, but adding something new… I’ll be seeing this song in French!”
Roger took another sip of his beer and nearly rolled his eyes at this annoyingly cheery Y/N. The lights dimmed, and the music began playing. “Des yeux qui font baisser les miens…” She sang, her eyes closed, and intently focusing on the music. “Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche” Her voice was amazing and angelic, and Roger’s jaw nearly hit the floor. He was awestruck…
She walked across the stage gracefully, continuing to sing smoothly. The crowd would cheer every time she’d wink or a blow a kiss. She’d often smile and nearly laugh, but still managed to sing perfectly. Roger smiled to himself, admiring the way she confidently carried herself on stage. She knew she was good. He turned around to face the bartender as she was still singing.
“So… Tell me more about this Y/N…” Roger said, sneaking in a glance at you.
The bartender glanced up from pouring glasses at Roger. “Well, as you can see she’s amazing at singing… Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She always finishes up the night, we can never get enough of her.”
“Has she ever thought of pursuing a career in singing? Has she tried?”
“Not that I know of, we’ve all tried to get her too. She’s just scared I think, but we all know she’d go places. Instead, she just works at some restaurant across the street.”
Roger turned back around to look at you, and realized you had finished the song. “Thanks for coming everyone, I’ll see you next week.” You said with a small wave.
You smiled to yourself as you felt you had the best performance yet. You were honestly really worried about how you’d do with the French version of La Vie En Rose, with only taking three years of it in high school. You walked into the makeshift backstage area and all the other weekly singers ran up to hug you.
“Y/N, you did so good, I’m so proud!” Said Lizzie, the host of the open mic night. She sang earlier too. “It was all so perfect and angelic… The outfit, the song, your voice…”
You laughed. “Thanks Lizzie, but we both know it was just a good performance. I have room for improvement.” Lizzie rolled her eyes.
You changed out of your dress into something more comfortable, just jeans and a floral shirt, with white tennis shoes. “Honestly Liz, the cold weather is killing me, I can hardly—“ You were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to be met with the face of a blonde man you vaguely recognized. It wasn’t a bad face though, you thought to yourself, His face was actually pretty nice…
Before you could say anything he introduced himself. “Hey. I’m Roger.” He said, giving you a charming smile.
“Oh um I’m Y/N!” You said, with a hint of awkwardness. “I don’t mean to be rude, but should you really be back here? It’s just—“
“No worries, I asked someone if I could come back here. I wanted to know if you’d like to get out of here with me.” You were a little concerned about this Roger guy. You knew his face from somewhere… And he was just so forward…
“Well I have to work tomorrow and it’s already late—“ You began, but were cut off by a scoff from Lizzie.
“She’d love to go! Between you and me, she really need unwind.”
“Holy shit Lizzie you—“ You whispered to her, only to be cut off again, but this time by Roger.
“Great! We can leave whenever you’re ready.” He said, and then abruptly left the room.
“Liz what hell! You can’t just force me on dates with random guys!”
“God Y/N, sometimes you’re so thick… Do you know who he is?” She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, he just introduced himself as Roger!”
“As in Roger Taylor, the drummer of Queen?”
You paused for a moment, thinking about it. You listened to Queen quite often, how did you not realize he was the drummer? You sighed to yourself, and pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.
“Well what the fuck am I supposed to do now Liz? He’s part of an internationally known band, probably has dated so many girls better than me, and I’m just—“
She put a hand on you reassuringly, “Y/N, you’re gonna be fine.”
You took a deep breath and grabbed your jacket. “You’re right, I just need to get through the night and not embarrass myself.”
You somewhat confidently walked out of the room, and entered the now almost empty bar. There were two girls at a table loudly laughing, the bartender, Drew, and then him. You weren’t as nervous before, but he sat there chatting up the bartender with a charming smile. You hated to admit how good he looked. You approached them with a nervous smile on your face, and gave them a little wave. “Hi Roger, so where are we gonna go then?”
Roger turned around to face you, and gave you a smile, “I don’t know it’s up to you really.” He said, not breaking eye contact with you, “But I was thinking we could go to another bar that’s open or back to the party and you can meet the rest of the band.”
You thought for a moment but decided you didn’t want to be partying right now. You were never a party person, always more reserved and avoided large crowds… “Not that that doesn’t sound fun… But I was thinking we could just go to Tiffany’s Diner down the road and get some milkshakes? They really do have the best milkshakes in the state of Washington, if not the west coast…”
“Best milkshakes in the state you say? Sounds tempting…” He thought, as you looked at him expectedly. “Alright, but I’m going to hold your words against you if you’re wrong…”
You grinned, and grabbed his hand, guiding him out of the bar.
The diner was practically empty, except for a trucker and two teenagers. It’s neon lights lit up the room, and the odd smell of grease filled the diner. You sat across from Roger in a booth, and talked as you waited for your milkshakes and fries. “So,” you said leaning closer on the table, “what do you think of Seattle so far?” You asked.
“It’s very umm…” He furrowed his brows, unsure of how to answer the question. “Wet.”
You laughed and shook your head. “That’s one way to describe it. I love it here though, I’ve grown up here and I don’t see myself ever leaving.” You said with a gentle smile on your face.
“What do you do for work?”
“Well… Right now I’m just a waitress at this high end restaurant… It’s no life-long career, but it pays the bills and the tips are big, so I really can’t complain.” You fiddled with the zipper of your bag. “A little birdie told me you’re a drummer in a world famous band then?”
“Yeah I am, have you heard our songs?”
“A few. They’re okay… Room for improvement.” You said jokingly with a grin on your face.
“Hey wipe that grin off of you face! We’re internationally known, I’ll have you know.What about you? Have you ever thought of pursuing a musical career? Your voice is bloody amazing.” Roger said looking at you.
You tucked your hair behind your ear, a nervous habit of yours. “Thanks but I don’t think I will. I’m not going to chase after a dream that will likely never come true. My mom taught be to realistic.” You were started to feel less nervous now, but it was intimidating to be alone with someone so good-looking and so famous. “You met my friend back at the bar, Lizzie, and she always tries to get me to sing at other places… But I’m happy where I’m at.”
There was silence for a second, but it was quickly interrupted by the waitress bringing your food. “Hey Y/N, another performance at the Blue Moon tonight, I assume. Replacing Liz I see, who’s this?”
“This is Roger, my new best friend, Lizzie got to be too annoying.” You chuckled.
“A strawberry milkshake, a chocolate milkshake, and fries. You kids enjoy!” She said.
“Thanks Carol!” You called after her. Roger was looking at you with a puzzling look. “What?” You frowned.
“Are you friends with just about everyone then?”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Just with the people around here, I suppose.”
“I’m not sure if I believe that.” He looked at the chocolate milkshake in front of him. “Now, we’re going to see if you’re a liar or not. The best milkshakes, huh?” Roger studied it for a moment before taking a sip. He shook his head not saying anything.
“Well? What’s the verdict?”
Roger grinned. “That’s a pretty damn good milkshake, Y/N.”
“See I told you! The strawberry is even better!” You said taking a sip of your own. “Try it!” You said pushing your own milkshake towards him.
After trying your strawberry milkshake he exclaimed, “Why didn’t you tell me before we ordered to get strawberry?”
“Your first experience with the best milkshakes needs to be decided by you!” You beamed, and he rolled his eyes.“You know, some people like to dip their fries in the their milkshake. Liz does that, it’s disgusting.” You said, nearly laughing remembering the time with Lizzie.
“That sounds… Aggressively American…” Roger said, a shocked yet disgusted look upon his face.
You and Roger drank your milkshakes and ate the fries (not at the same time, of course), while chatting and laughing at the same time. You don’t know why he made you laugh so much and how he made you comfortable in such little time. It was weird to think how famous he was, yet here he was, enjoying a milkshake with you in a small diner. Against your wishes, he paid for your little meal and left a hefty tip for the waitress, Carol.
You looked at the clock above the diner counter. “Holy crap, it’s 1 AM. I really should be getting home, I have work at 8 AM…” You sighed, putting your face in your hands.
Roger took your hands in his. “You should come with me to my next show, it’ll be great! I could even ask Freddie if you could sing a song!” He looked at you with an excited look on his face.
“Rog, that’s sweet but I could never. Performing in a bar full of people you know is one thing, but in front of thousands I don’t know? That’s crazy. The open mic nights are just a bit of fun, that’s all… I’ll have to see you perform some other night, but right now I’m up for a promotion at work and I really can’t miss my shift.”
“I get it…” Roger said, leaning on his arm. “How far do you live from here?”
You frowned at the odd question, but answered nonetheless. “About two miles, why?”
He stood up from the table, and stretched his hand out to you. “Cause I’m going to walk you home, that’s why. Lead the way, love.”
“Roger it’s pouring you can’t honestly think we’re going to-”
“Come on, then I still have an excuse to be around you.” You blushed a bit, grinning as you took his hand and stood up.
The rain had let up, but you figured you still be drenched by the time you made it home. As you walked outside, you could see the moon slightly peeking out behind the storm clouds. You walked down the damp streets of Seattle, arm in arm. It was cold enough to see your breaths when you spoke, but that just gave you more of a reason to stay close to Roger.
Right now, Roger was telling you about how crazy tour could get, all the parties, all the fans, and all the shows… It was really intimidating, and talking about the topic made you nervous… When Roger looked down at you, he saw the look on your face, and that said it all. He could tell you were kind of freaking out.
“What’re you thinking about right now?” He smiled at you as you walked. “You kind of have a funny look on your face…”
You took a deep breath in… “I just… I don’t know… Why me? I’m just some girl from Seattle nothing special or different-”
“I knew you were special from the moment I saw you on stage in that black dress. The way you carried yourself on stage… The way you interact with people and have all these friends… I’ve shamefully met a lot of girls on this tour, and none of them have been like you.”
You bursted out laughing, despite your attempts to keep it in. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m sorry everything you said is super sweet, and I appreciate it, I really do, but it’s just so sappy and cheesy.” You giggled.
“Hey! Don’t make fun of me, I meant what I said!” Roger said, slightly laughing himself. “Okay… Yeah… It was a little cheesy.”
“Rog…” You stopped walking. “You aren’t gonna just forget me like all of those other girls right?”
“Of course not, I never intended to.” He frowned.
You tried to hide your smile but you couldn’t. After one night, you sort of fell for this stupid boy with messy blonde hair. It was hard not to. You continued your walk, telling him the story of Lizzie shamelessly mentioning to everyone how well you could sing. You told him a lot of stories, too, and in turn Roger told a few tour stories and about his band.
“They really seem like fun, and they all sound lovely. I’d love to meet them sometime.” You said, beaming up at him.
Roger shook his head. “‘Lovely’ isn’t exactly how I’d describe them but… I’m sure they’d love to meet you, too.”
You stopped in front of your apartment building, both of you drenched, the hair sticking to both of your faces. “This is me, right here.” You gestured toward the building.
“I’ll be sure to take note of your address, send you some letters.”
“That’s sweet and all but wouldn’t it be easier if I just gave you my number?” You questioned, and he just nodded. You took a pen out and wrote your phone number down. “Be sure not to wash that off.”
You stood in front of your apartment building’s door. “I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d enjoy this night as much as I did. Thank you, Rog.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” He gave you a small wave.
The rain was starting to fall harder, and the street was dark except for a dim light. You waved, and took one last look at him before you pushed the door open and walked inside. You tried to shake the water out, and realized how could you were now. You were almost at the stairs when you heard a knock on the door, and you turned around to see Roger.
“Now what is it?” You said playfully, as you opened the door and stepped out in the rain to meet him.
“You forgot something” Roger said leaning close to you. He was a lot closer to you now, you could feel your heart beating in your chest, and your face burned. Luckily for you, your blushing was hidden by the darkness of the night.
You frowned trying to think what you forgot. “No, I don’t think so I got my purse right h-”
He interrupted you by grabbing your face, and resting your forehead against his. He kissed you softly, and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words never would be. His hand rested below your ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he pulled you closer until there was no space left between them. You could feel the beating of his heart against your own chest.
You both slowly pulled away, both resting your forehead against one another’s. “Be sure to call me, okay?” You whispered, and he nodded. You gently kissed his cheek once more before breaking apart, still holding his hand as you walked toward the door. When you got far enough, your hands also broke apart, and he allowed it to fall to his side. You opened the door and finally went up to your apartment.
The clock on your nightstand read 2:38 AM, and you shook your head over how much time Roger had taken up. You had to wake up in five hours, but you were pretty sure you’d have trouble falling asleep. As you now laid in your bed, thinking about the night you met and spent with Roger, recounting every conversation, every smile, and every laugh… You knew that this was a night to remember forever.
Summary: After what happened with Roger in Los Angeles, the Y/N quickly goes back to Seattle, and isn’t sure where to go from there. Meanwhile, Roger has problems with another girl, who threatens to get in the way of Y/N and Roger finally getting together.
Word Count: 2911
Warnings: Swearing, the usual
A/N: This has been asked for so much, and I really hope you all like this!! All the messages I got were super sweet so thank you! I didn’t proofread so excuse any mistakes please! Don’t forget to leave feedback in my inbox or by messaging me, anything helps!! Also my requests are always open! 🙂 Enjoy! Also it kind of switches between POV’s but you’ll see
The patter of the rain against your windows was loud, and was occasionally accompanied by a flash of lightning and a boom of thunder. The clock next to your bed read 11:02 AM.
It had been only two days since you returned home from Los Angeles, and since that return you’ve only moped around your apartment. It made your heart feel heavy whenever you thought about what happened with Roger. Despite the painful emotions that came with the memories of Los Angeles and the letter, they were all you could think about. You kept replaying it in your head, contemplating whether or not you should’ve run. After all, he chased after you and maybe would’ve said he loved you still, or maybe he would’ve said he didn’t care anymore. You felt guilt over the way you reacted and just left him standing there in that hotel lobby. Roger wanted to tell you something, but you freaked out and ran off.
You no longer had the letter with you, but you would recite bits and pieces to yourself. You just sat in bed all day in a depressive state. You looked around your messy bedroom and knew that it wasn’t healthy to be stuck like this. It was healthy to keep thinking about Roger, who didn’t love you like you loved him.
You got up out of your bed and put your messy hair into a somewhat neat bun. You were still in your pajamas, and you couldn’t imagine how awful you looked in the moment. You knew you had to move on, and you only knew one way how to.
The desk light shone brightly on the blank sheet of paper that now sat in front of you. You tapped the pen on the desk as you thought about what to write. All of the sudden you knew what to write, just as a light bulb would turn on in a cartoon. Once your pen started writing, there was no stopping it.
You smiled to yourself as you reread it to yourself, knowing that every word you wrote was true. You carefully placed it in an envelope, and wrote his address on it. You knew he wouldn’t be home for another week or so, but you felt you could wait another week after waiting for years to tell him.
Once you dropped the letter off at the post office, you felt like you get on with your life until he responded (If he responded, that is).
Sure enough, a week later, Roger walked up to his own door, and struggled with his keys to open his apartment, his hands full with his luggage. Connie, the girl from the hotel, trailed behind him. He didn’t know why he kept her around, honestly. Roger didn’t like her, she was too boring and quite a klutz. He barely wanted to bring her too his house, but she just kept pestering.
He couldn’t stop thinking about you and the last time he saw you, no matter how much he tried. Six months ago, he made sure to push every thought of you out of his head, because it was like salt in the wound every time he was reminded of you. Roger believed you rejected him altogether when he didn’t get a response to his letter.
With an aggressive tug at the door knob, it finally swung open, and he dropped all of his stuff on the ground. “Finally…” he murmured out. His eyes immediately landed on a framed photo you and him at one of his first gigs with Smile. That picture felt worlds ago…
“So this is your place then?” Connie said with a smirk on her face. “It’s nice I like it…”
“Yeah well don’t get too comfortable.” Roger scoffed. “You’re not staying here that long.”
The brunette rolled her eyes, “Come on don’t be such a dick. Why don’t you show me your bed.”
Roger pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Oh my god Connie, not now…” He sighed looking up to face her. “Can you get the mail or the other bags from downstairs or something, I need a moment.” He nearly yelled, annoyed with the girl.
“Whatever.” She huffed out, clearly annoyed with him, too.
Roger sat down on the couch, and was once again faced with the picture of you two. “Damn it.” He whispered, feeling the emotions of losing you all over again. He turned the picture away from him, and thought in the silence that filled his house.
In Roger’s pocket, the crumpled up letter gave you sat. He didn’t know what to with it now, and it was quite embarrassing to reread it. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why you’d come with an answer now…
Roger sat down on his couch and leaned his head back, and took a deep breath. Where did we go wrong? That single thought repeats itself over and over again in his mind. The pain, the feeling in his chest and stomach made him second guess sending the letter all those months ago. There was no going back. No do overs. And because of the timing, he had likely lost you forever. His fingers trembled around the cigarette as he began to light it. The smell and taste were just as bitter as he was.
Connie came back in a split second with the mail, a smile on her face. He could tell she was using him, but at this point he didn’t care, he just needed a distraction. “Did anything important come in the mail?” He said to her.
Connie swiftly looked through the many envelopes, and her eyes were narrowed when she laid eyes on one addressed to Roger from a Y/N Y/L/N. She remember that name, and she hated it. He’d talk about her every once in awhile, and even mumble her in name in his sleep. Connie felt jealous rise up, and she rolled her eyes at the thought of that girl. She was threatening everything Connie had done to get this close to Roger…
She took one glance at Roger, to see if he was paying attention to her, and then when he wasn’t, Connie discreetly shoved the letter in her purse. She sat down next to Roger on the couch and handed him the letters. “Mostly bills and everything, maybe a few letters from your friends.”
He skimmed the letters and then threw them on the coffee table after he felt there was nothing important. “We’re going out tonight, are you in?” He said, without even looking at her.
The brunette smiled and cuddled up against him. “Of course, I’m always in.”
Later that night, Roger was waiting for Connie to finish. He was honestly tired of this girl, but kept her around for company because the worst thing in the world is being lonely. She was still putting on her makeup, and he stood by the door, impatient. “Can you hurry up already? The damn thing will be almost over by the time you’re ready.” He yelled across the house.
“I can’t find my lipstick,” her voice rang from far away, “Can you check if it’s my purse?”
Roger rolled his eyes, but did so anyway. Nothing was in her purse except some money, her lipstick, and a piece of paper. As he pulled out the piece of paper to investigate, he frowned. He turned it over. His eyes widened as he read your name. Roger was confused at first, and then infuriated.
“Did you find it-” Connie said walking up, stopping once she saw the letter in his hand. “Oh.” Was all she said.
“What the fuck is this?” He held it up to her, not looking in her direction.
“I was going to give it to you, but I knew you were going to leave once-”
“What Y/N writes to me doesn’t concern you.” Roger said, his voice shaking with anger. He was gritting his teeth now, and he wanted to scream.
“Look I’m sorry but that Y/N bitch-”
“Don’t you ever call her that!” He seethed, snapping his head toward her. “Don’t even say her name. Get out of my house.”
Connie whined, “Roger, baby, please let me explain.”
“I said get the fuck out now!” Roger yelled at her, pointing aggressively to the door.
“Whatever, let me grab my things…” She mumbled, to the point of tears.
He walked closer to her, “No, I said get out!” Connie was clearly terrified, and headed toward the door with a quick shuffle.
Roger angrily swung the door open to his bedroom, grabbing her bags and heading towards the window. He slid it open and chucked her belongings out the window into the snow below. He picked up the picture frame on the end table and threw it at the door as hard as he could. He should’ve never been with Connie in the first place, the way you looked at him in that lobby was like a knife in the chest. He should’ve left Connie right then and there. Roger began to walk to the kitchen when he saw the picture of you and him on the floor, covered in shards of glass. He gently picked up, and smiled at it.
Roger looked at the crumpled envelope that he smashed when he was yelling at Connie, and his anger slowly melted away. It was written in red ink in your recognizable handwriting; another one of the things you did that he loved. His hands were shaking as he tore it open, and began reading.
Dear Roger,
I’m sorry to have gotten back to you about your letter so late. You must understand it wasn’t my intention to ignore you, but that it just happened. Your letter was stuck inside of an old magazine, and I hadn’t known it was there until the day I last saw you. But now, I’m writing my own letter, and I only hope that you receive this faster than I received yours.
You may be right. I do deserve someone who loves me with his entire heart, and thinks about me every second of the day. Someone who is constantly just wondering where I am, what I’m doing, who I’m with, and if I’m okay. I should be with someone who loves all of me, especially my flaws. But so you do, Rog. You deserve that someone too.
You deserve a girl who always is thinking about you, if even it hurts. Someone who counts down the seconds until they see you again. Someone who loves your stupid flaws, like the way you throw things when you get mad or how jealous you get. Someone who loves your dorky quirks and understands you. I don’t know if I’m that someone, honestly, that’s for you to decide. As for me, you will always be my someone.
When I got your letter I ran to you, but you didn’t even answer the door. I don’t want a repeat of that. It hurt so fucking much to know that I embarrassed myself and that you probably don’t even care anymore. I don’t want a repeat of that.
That’s why I’m writing my own letter, to avoid the heartbreak. If you want to be with that Connie girl, that’s okay. I’d understand I was too late. It’d hurt like hell, but I would understand.
I’m sorry I was afraid to tell you I loved you in the first place. But I have loved you since college and I will likely still love you, even if you break my heart.
This is our opportunity. Let’s stop being afraid and take the chance. Please don’t lose this letter like I did, and take care, Roger.
Love Ya,
Y/N
Roger couldn’t help but smile at the way you copied his “Love Ya.” He didn’t realize it, but he was nearly crying, and he wasn’t a super emotional person in the first place. He put the letter down and stood in the silence of his own home.
Back in Seattle, you sat behind the counter at the hotel you managed. It was dry, cold day that still had dark clouds looming above. It had been a particularly slow day, with only a few people checking in. You had just checked in someone wearing a Queen shirt, bringing your thoughts to Roger and the whole letter ordeal. Almost lost in thought, you realized your shift was over and you should get home. You grabbed your brightly-colored umbrella and exited the building, with the blonde drummer still occupying your thoughts. You still felt hopelessly in love with him, and upon that realization, you let out a heavy sigh, your breath appearing in front of you.
As a drop of crystal-clear water appeared on your face, you smiled to yourself. The rain was something that stopped your thoughts from buzzing, calmed you, but at the same time excited you. The waves of the salty liquid washed the pavement creating a melancholic song. Waiting for the rain to wash all of the misery away, you stood there, your gaze burning into the horizon, staring at the beauty of the upcoming storm and the crying clouds. You took in a breath of the fresh, crisp winter air, and found yourself calmer. You quickly got in your little red car to avoid getting anymore soaked.
Once you got home, you made yourself some tea, put on your favorite vinyl, and enjoyed watching the rain fall on the city below. You felt peaceful and happy for the first time since Los Angeles, and with that thought you smiled to yourself.
A soft knock on the door brought out of your thoughts. “Just a second!” You called out to the person, putting the cup of tea down on your coffee table, and standing up from your comfortable spot on the couch.You opened the door without looking up. “Sorry I look like such a mess it’s just-” You stopped when you were finally met with those beautiful blue eyes that you fell in love with all those years.
Roger was soaking wet, slightly shivering, and his hair a mess. “Why…” You cleared your throat, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to spill. “What’re you doing here.”
Without saying a word, he reached into the pocket of his coat, and pulled out the opened envelope addressed to him. Your eyes fell to what he was holding, and your mouth fell open. “I’m sorry.” was all you said, it came out as whisper.
He laughed slightly. “What are you sorry about? I’m the one who had some random girl answer the door.” Roger saw your eyes start to get misty. He titled your chin up with his hand. “Hey, don’t be sorry.” He pulled you in for a hug, and you closed your eyes shut, and just took in the moment.
You open your eyes and frowned. “Roger, you’re soaking wet.” You recoiled. “How long were you out there?”
He shrugged. “About a half hour… I didn’t know what to say when I saw you.”
“Roger! You could’ve caught a cold! Look at you your freezing!” You exclaimed. Roger only chuckled at your reaction.
“I love you.” He blurted out, smiling at you. You just stared up at him, not sure what to say. Roger had written it on paper before, but now here he was, actually saying it to you. Slowly, he presses his lips to yours. It’s soft and gentle, and maybe there’s no fireworks or sparks, but it’s better than that – it’s a wave of warmth that fills you up, spilling out from your heart and the warmth of Roger’s lips on yours and rushing to every corner of your body: the cracks in between your toes, the crooks of his elbows, the tips of his ears. Every inch of your body is saturated with love.
You pulled away with a smile, and grabbed his hands. “I love you, too, Rog, but you’re shivering please let me make you some tea. Come inside and you can tell me all about your tour.” You said, still beaming.
Roger rolled his eyes playfully, “Well how can I say no now?”
You walked more into your apartment, and made him a cup of hot chocolate while he sat at your counter. He was telling you all about the shows and the crazy crowds of fans; both which he adored. You turned around and gave him a good look, admiring how happy you were that everything worked out in the end. “Rog,” you interrupted his story.
“Yeah?” Roger looked up at you with a cute smile on his face, and you almost melted right then and there.
“I really missed you…” You said, and couldn’t help but grin.
He walked over to you, wrapped his arms around you and murmured, “I really missed you, too.” You gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and you couldn’t ask for more. Here Roger Taylor was, the boy you deserved, with Y/N Y/L/N, the girl he deserved.
And thanks to everyone who offered to help me. I really appreciate it.
ENJOY!
Warning: NSFW.
*Gif’s not mine*
A = Aftercare
(What they’re like after sex)
It depends if he’s drunk or
not.
If he’s drunk, he will immediately wrap around you
and fall asleep.
If not he’ll smoke a
cigarette, resting one arm behind his head.
After exhaling the smoke he
gives you a playful smirk.
“Do I have something on my face?”
He’d ask.
You giggle and get closer
to him, resting your head on his chest.
He’s
usually a bit closed off and reseved when it comes to his emotions, but when
he’s alone with you, laying on the bed, blissed out with cigarrette smoke
wafting above your heads, he’ll talk to you about anything and everything.
His
voise is always soft and raspy during these moments, and sometimes he’ll shift
his body so that he’s murmmuring into your hair, smiling against your ear when
the sensation makes you giggle.
Then
he caresses your hair until you fall asleep.
B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of their partners)
Roger loves your ass.
He likes to subtely tuck his hand into
the back pocket of your jeans
When you nap together he always pulls
you on top of him so that he can feel you pressed against him, resting one hand
on your back underneath your shirt and the other on the curve of your ass.
He’s always playfully
spanking you.
Especially before starting
to record or before a concert.
“Roger! Stop it!”
“It’s for good
luck, petal.”
“Do you want to spank my
ass for good luck?” Freddie ask.
“Fuck off, Freddie!” Roger yells, giving
him a swift kick in the ass.
C = Cum
(Anything to do with cum basically)
Well, well, well, our Roger
loves to cum all over your ass.
He loves the contrast with
your skin.
But he also loves to cum in
your mouth and breasts.
Especially when you’re on your knees
before a concert.
You would lower your blouse
enough to show your breasts and open your mouth waiting for him to give you
what you want.
“Fuck (Y/N).”
D = Dirty Secret
He wants to fuck you over
his drums.
Or at least use his
drumsticks to make you cum.
E =
Experience (How experienced are they?)
Let’s be real… Roger is a
womanizer, so he has a lot of experience.
He has slept with enough fans
to know exactly what he does.
F =
Favourite Position
Well if Roger loves your
ass, he loves fucking you from behind.
Holding your ass up for
him, leaving some bruises
on your waist.
“Ah! Right there, Rog!”
“You like that, petal?” He
asks and then spanks you hard,
making you scream.
But he also likes having
you on top.
He moves his hands from
your back to your breasts, pinching your nipples and making you moan.
Then his hands move to your
ass, squeezing it.
“Ride me, baby.”
And when you start bouncing
up and down, he adjusts his arms behind his head, enjoying the view with a
smirk on his face.
G = Goofy
(Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)
Roger can be making jokes
at the beginning, only to relax you.
But when he starts to fuck you,
he leaves the jokes aside and start with the dirty talk.
H = Hair
(How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
I think he shaves but not
all of it.
Only a little to make it
look more aesthetic (?)
He doesn’t want a jungle down there.
I =
Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)
He can be romantic if he
wants.
Maybe not the type of guy
who will lay you on a bed of roses.
But he has his own way of showing his love.
For example… Kissing you
like his life depends on it.
He can kiss every part of
your body, leaving bruises, whispering compliments to you.
Also he holds you close to
him, feeling each other’s heartbeating and heavy
breaths.
J = Jack
Off (Masturbation headcanon)
Oohla la.
Mr. Taylor absolutely does it.
Mostly when you can’t go
with the band for the tours.
He needs a way to relieve his stress
after a concert.
Even though he can have any girl he wants, he prefers
to drink and smoke, waiting impacientely to
go back to the hotel.
Once he’s there, he’ll jerk off until he cums all
over his abs.
K = Kink
(One or more of their kinks)
Spanking you all the time.
And, of course, dirty
whispers in your ear. It
doesn’t matter if you two are alone or not.
“I want to fuck you right
here on this couch.”
“We can hear you, Roger.”
Brian says, without removing his attention from his guitar.
“Come on guys, are we
here to make music or have a fuckin’ orgy? That’s disgusting.” John says, lifting up his arms.
“I vote for the orgy.”
Freddie announces, lifting his cigarrette above
his head as he enters
the studio.
L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)
ALL THE PLACES ARE GOOD FOR
SEX.
Your bedroom.
The studio.
The bathroom (Shower sex
is a must)
The tour bus.
In the back of taxis and limos.
His car.
Freddie’s
bedroom.
In the dressing room before shows.
M =
Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
Seeing you in his clothes.
And much more because he
knows that you are only wearing your panties under his shirt.
During sex… He loves the
way you bite your lip to hold in
your moans, so he increases his pace to make you scream.
And of course when you say
his name.
“Rog please… Don’t stop.
Roger!”
N = NO
(Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)
Anything that includes him
hurting you.
He can be a little rough
sometimes, but he’s always careful not to go
too far.
He’s not a fan of exbozitionism. He’ll
have some fun stealing a quickie here and there, but when it comes to actually
being in the company of others, he almost
never goes further than a swift kiss or a pinch on the bum.
There are some sides of you that he doesnt want anyone but him to get to see.
O = Oral
(Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He likes giving. Likes the way you squirm
under him and hold his hair.
“You taste so sweet,
baby.” He smirks at you,
licking his lips.
BUT… He loves receiving even more.
Roger holds your hair in a
ponytail to see your red cheeks while you suck him off.
“Good girl.” He
says, caressing your cheek.
He grunts while you take him
deeper in your mouth.
Then he holds your head in
place while he start fucking your mouth. You close your eyes and place your
hands in his waist.
“I’m close.” He
whisper, trying to control his moans.
So you move one of your
hands to caress his balls.
“Shit.” With a grunt he
cums in your mouth.
He lets his head fall back and when
returns his eyes to you, he smirks when he sees you licking your lips. “That’s my girl.“
P = Pace
(Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
Roger can start s of slow and
sensual and filling your body with wet kisses and sweet compliments.
Then he slowly
increases his pace.
Holding on the
headboard with one hand and the other grasping
the sheets.
Your nails mark his arms and back.
“Rog… Harder.”
He smirks and stops for one
moment.
“Hands and knees,
petal.” He holds
your waist and flips you, giving your ass a spank.
You shake your ass, making him
smirk.
“Naughty girl.”
He says and enters you in one thrust. “Fuck.”
Q =
Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
Roger always is busy, so quickies
are an important part of your lifes.
No matter where you are.
You can bet you’ll find him between your legs.
“Roger, you have to
go.” You says, while he’s kissing your neck and holding up
your skirt. Outside you can hear all the screams calling for Queen. “The
concert is about to start."
Before he takes it too far, he always
presses a few urgent, sloppy kisses to the side of you neck, murmurring “Tell me you want me to stop” into the
skin just underneath your ear.
You never do.
"Don’t worry petal,
i’ll be quick.” He whispers, lowering your panties.
Sometimes he ask you to go
to the studio with him to practice before recording. But it always ends with you two
fucking on the couch.
And of course you have been
caught sometimes.
“For fuck’ sake, Roger!”
John yells. “I eat on that couch!"
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
Well I think it’s already
clear.
He loves taking risks.
Dirty whispers, fucking
everywhere, spanking in public.
S =
Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)
He’s not superhuman. I
think he can go for at least 3 or 4 rounds. Especially when you two haven’t seen each other in a
long time.
And in those rounds
he will give you all the orgasms he can before he cums.
For sure he goes in-between
your legs and take his time to get you ready to fuck again.
T=Toy (Do
they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
Do drumsticks
count?
If so, then he’d
love to fuck you with them.
But he thinks is a dirty
thing to ask for. So he only caresses your breasts with them.
One day he will.
U =
Unfair (how much they like to tease)
I think he doesn’t like to
tease.
He loves to see you cum for
him, so he doesn’t deny you your release as long as you scream his name over
and over again.
V =
Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
He’s very loud when he’s drunk. Moans, grunts, bad words.
Normally he only grunts and
moans when he’s close to orgasming.
He loves to breathe heavily
in your neck and tell you dirty things in your ear.
"Fuck (Y/N), you’re so
fuckin’ tight. So fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He grunts and slaps your ass.
“Cum all over my cock, petal."
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your
choice)
You decide to
make his dirty secret come true.
At first you’ll be very
nervous, so he begins touching you with his hands, caressing your folds.
"You’re so wet,
baby.” He bites your ear. “I like it.”
Then you feel something hard against
your pussy.
“Roger!"
"Relax, baby.” He
says and then slowly slides the drumstick into your
wet hole.
“Roger.” You moan
and he kisses your cheek, starting to slowly move
the drumstick. Being careful not to hurt you.
You grab his
shoulders and squirm under him.
You lower your hand and
start touching your clit, moaning loudly while he kisses your neck.
“You like it?”
You only nod with heavy breaths.
“Don’t stop,
please.” He smirks and bites your neck, leaving a red mark.
“I don’t plan on it."
X = X-Ray
(Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)
He’s an average size.
The perfect dick to make you
scream and beg for more.
Y =
Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
Come on… It’s Roger
Taylor, that says everything.
f he can… sex 24/7.
The smallest things will get him going from the way you sit in your chair to the way you bite your lip when they get
dry during the winter months.
Z = ZZZ
(how quickly they fall asleep afterward)
Like I said, it depends on whether or not he’s
sober.
When
he’s drunk, he’ll want to pass out right away, but will refuse to until you
come back to bed.
If he had it his way, the two of you
would just curl up and worry about the mess in the morning- but you usually
pull yourself out of his embrace- with much difficulty-, and get up to change
into clean clothes (much to his chagrin)
When lying down in bed and complaining
doesn’t do the trick, he’ll drag himself to where you’re standing in the
bathroom, and sit down to help wipe you up and dress you in one of his clean
shirts, before scooping you up in his arms and uncerimoniously dumping you into
the bed, and practically collapsing on top of you.
When he’s sober, he always stays awake and smokes while you fall asleep, carassing
your hair and smileing softly as he watches the rise and fall of your chest.
Summary: You couldn’t help but fall in love with your best friend, Roger Taylor. The only problem? He has no clue. So with the lovely assistance of Freddie and the guys, they team up together to help try to make him notice this before it’s too late.
Word Count: 3,791.
A/N: First Roger fic! Tried my best to do our boy justice. Big thank you to @yourealegendfred for being a great help during the process of this story and beta’ing. Hope you guys enjoy! Feedback is always, always appreciated.
AN: This one was a request! I hate to admit how much I love writing angst, and hopefully this lives up to the expectation. Let me know what you think!
Warning: Angst, injury, mentions of being sick
Request: I love love loovveee you’re writing I am currently obsessed with your current Roger Taylor fic oh my gosh. I was wondering if I could request a little angsty one-shot with him?? Maybe the band is on tour and the reader broke up with him but he hears that they got hurt and he flew back to see them or something idek I just love angst oof.
———————
Realistically, it had been a long time coming. The months apart, the constant rumors, and the hurried phone calls had become too much for you to bear. You loved him, of course you loved him. But after the recent string of events, you just couldn’t handle it anymore.
He had been on tour for about two weeks now, and in that time, he had only managed to call you a handful of times. Every time you picked up the phone, you could hear a raging party in the background, and you could always tell that he had been drinking. He was having the time of his life, he would tell you, and you would try to find it in yourself to be happy for him. He was out living his dream. However, it wasn’t fair to you to be stuck waiting for him to come back to you.
John, who called you almost every day, tried to convince you that Roger was being faithful. He swore up and down that he never once allowed a girl to go farther than hug him, but the news seemed to become more and more convincing. There wasn’t a single picture that he was in where he wasn’t surrounded by beautiful women. You weren’t the most secure person in the first place, and the jealousy just made everything worse.
You knew that he should be calling any minute. It was early for you, but you knew with the time difference that it would be late for him. You had asked John earlier in the day to make sure that he called. You had something important you needed to talk to him about. You tapped your foot nervously against the wood floor, and almost jumped out of your skin when the phone finally rang. You felt like your stomach was in your throat as you picked up the receiver to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hello, love!” His voice was loud, but you could still barely make it out over all the background noise. He was at another after party. You sighed as you twirled the phone cord around your finger absentmindedly.
“How are you?” You asked quietly. You wanted to skip the small talk, but it didn’t seem fair to start the conversation with all your emotions.
“I’m fantastic! The show was amazing, and this party is ridiculous. But John said that you needed to talk to me about something.”
You could hear a girl scream in the background and Roger laughed. Your mood plummeted further. He sounded so happy, and you knew that what you were going to tell him was most likely going to ruin his night.
“I did. Roger, listen. I don’t think that I can do this anymore.”
You could feel the tears building in the silence that followed. There was still the loud party in the background, but Roger didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure that he had even heard you until you heard some shuffling and suddenly the noise got a little bit quieter.
“What… what do you mean?” His voice was much quieter, and you had to swallow the lump in your throat before you could speak again.
“I don’t think I can be in this relationship anymore.”
More silence. A tear slipped down your cheek and you tried to hold back the sob that was building in your throat. You didn’t want to do this, but you had to think about yourself for once. You weren’t happy anymore, and you couldn’t deal with the constant uncertainty as to whether Roger was going to come back to you.
“Please, don’t do this. I love you, YN. I haven’t done anything with anyone else, I swear-“
“It’s not just about that, Roger.” You interrupted, unable to listen to his pleas. “I didn’t want to do this over the phone, but I thought it was best that I do it sooner rather than later. I’m so sorry.”
You were choking on air now, trying to breathe through the sobs that were now wracking your body. You covered your mouth with your hand to muffle the sound. You could hear a sniffle from the other end, and the sound caused a new wave of tears to form.
“YN…”
“Goodbye Roger.”
You quickly hung up, not wanting to hear what else he had to say. You continued to cry for what felt like hours afterward. It wasn’t fair. You wanted to be with him, but the way that you were now was not what you needed. You needed stability. You needed comfort. And when he was far away on tour, he could give you neither of those things.
It wasn’t long before it was time for you to start getting ready for work. You welcomed the distraction, and hoped that you were busy so that you wouldn’t have time to think about your broken heart. You slipped on your work clothes, and avoided the side of the closet where Roger had been keeping some of his things. You continued your regular morning routine and when it came time to leave, you grabbed your keys off the kitchen counter.
Your office was only a few blocks away, but with the rain you decided you would drive rather than walk. You climbed into your car, and almost as soon as you were buckled inside, the rain started coming down even harder. You couldn’t help but think that it was like the sky knew exactly how you were feeling. Slowly, you pulled away from the curb and started on your short journey. It was difficult to see, but knowing London, you were fairly used to it.
You had no sooner started across the intersection down the street from your house when you saw the headlights. You didn’t have time to react before there was the deafening sound of metal hitting metal, and everything went black.
x.x.x.x.x
It was early morning when the hotel phone started to ring. Roger was sharing a room with John, and groaned at the noise as it roused him from his slumber. His head was pounding and his body ached. He couldn’t remember what had happened earlier in the night or how he had gotten here, but he could remember the conversation. His head seemed to pound even harder at the memory.
The phone started ringing again, and Roger reached over and hit John against his back.
“Would ya’ answer it ‘lready?” he whined, his voice still slurring slightly. John mumbled something that Roger couldn’t make out, but leaned over to the table next to his side of the bed and picked up the phone. Almost immediately John shot up and out of the bed, startling Roger completely awake.
“Is she okay?”
Roger’s eyes snapped to his friend and his heart started racing. She who?
“Okay… okay… yes… thank you.” And then John hung up the phone. For a few moments, he just stared at the phone, wide eyed, as if it had just bitten him.
“Who was that?” Roger asked, his voice still hoarse from sleep and dehydration. John’s eyes slowly panned over to him.
“YN was in an accident. She’s in the hospital.”
It was Roger’s turn to jump out of bed, the room instantly tilting and his stomach lurching. He propelled his arms forward to steady himself against the bed as his hungover brain tried to process what was happening.
“Is she okay?” Roger mimicked the question that John had asked the person on the phone just moments before.
“They don’t know. It was pretty bad. They’re taking her into surgery now.”
The nausea he had been feeling before intensified and he quickly ran to the bathroom. He wasn’t sure if it was caused by the mass amount of alcohol or the news, or a culmination of both. He sunk to the bathroom floor, his head in his hands, as tears built behind his eyes. She was hurt and he was over 3,000 miles away. She needed him and he wasn’t there. Roger had never felt worse.
After several moments of sitting on the bathroom floor, wallowing in his own sadness, Roger finally pulled himself up and made his way back into the other room. John was pacing the floor, hand over his mouth, mumbling quietly to himself. Knowing that he couldn’t sit in the hotel room any longer, Roger walked over to his suitcase and started throwing all his things inside of it.
“Where are you going?” Deacy asked as he stopped pacing and turned to his friend.
“The airport. She needs me.”
His brain was still lagging slightly, but the more he thought about it, the clearer his thoughts became. He had to go back to London. No concert was more important than she was. Deacy didn’t protest or try and stop him, because he knew there would be no point. He would let Brian and Freddie know, and they would deal with their show that night in the best way possible. He would have even gone with him, but he knew that this was a trip that he needed to make on his own.
“Good luck, mate. Let her know that we’re thinking of her when you see her.”
Roger gave him a curt nod, and walked over to call for a cab. Surprisingly, even at 4 in the morning, it didn’t take long for his ride to arrive and then he was gone. He could only hope that he could get a flight back quickly.
x.x.x.x.x
It was quiet except for the sound of a faint beeping. You groaned as you tried to roll over away from the light that was shining in your eyes, but you felt a tug on the inside of your arm that prevented you from moving. Slowly, you opened your eyes and at first your eyes couldn’t focus. You could make out faint shapes, but it didn’t take you long to realize that you weren’t at home. The scene started to become a little clearer the more you blinked, and finally you could make out that you were in a hospital room. What happened?
Your eyes flickered down to where the tugging had come from and you could see an I.V. sticking out of your arm. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion as you tried to remember what happened. A sharp pain filled your right side and when you looked over, you couldn’t stop the gasp that fell from your lips. The skin of your arm was a mixture of dark purple and reds and it was carefully propped up on a pillow. You tried to move it, but let out a whimper at the pain that shot through it.
“Try not to move too much, sweetheart.”
Your heart jumped at the sound of his voice, and slowly your eyes fell on him. He was sitting in a chair on the right side of the bed up near your head. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked beyond exhausted. His blond hair was a mess, looking as if he had run his hands through it repeatedly, pushing it all in different directions.
“Roger? What are you doing here?” You winced again at the pain that spread through your chest when you spoke. His eyes filled with worry as he watched you struggle.
“As soon as I heard you were in an accident, I got on the first plane that I could.”
An accident? The memory slowly started to come back to you. The rain. The stop sign. The headlights.
“What about the band?”
Roger shook his head, and you watched as his hand hesitated over yours. He wanted to touch you, to hold your hand and provide some form of comfort, but he didn’t want to hurt you.
“The band will be fine without me for a couple of days. This was more important.”
Your heart swelled. He was here, now, with you and even though you were in excruciating pain, you couldn’t help but smile. Roger gave you a small smile in return, and leaned over the railings of the bed next to your head. He gently brushed the hair away from your forehead and pressed a small kiss against it.
“You gave us all quite a scare, love. Freddie, Brian and John send their love.”
He didn’t move to sit down, but instead continued to push little hairs away from your face and traced the skin along your jawline. You sighed into the touch and closed your eyes.
“I’m really sorry, Roger.” You whispered. You could feel the pain medication kicking in again and you started to drift out of consciousness.
“Shh… don’t worry about that right now. Just get some rest.”
You nodded, and within seconds you were asleep again with thoughts of the blond drummer running through your mind.
andtheytoldustotellyouhello 