#roger taylor reader insert
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Roger Taylor blurb
Roger is enjoying the buzz of a show well played. Freddie is basking in the attention and love from the patrons of the bar, Brian enjoying his beer and Deacy chatting with Veronica.
It’s a perfect evening, until he notices his best friend across the bar. He had watched her dance and sing her heart out while they were playing and as per their tradition, Y/N heads to the bar to get the first round of drinks for them all as they chat with some of the fans.
Roger watches Y/N leans against the bar, waiting for the bartender to acknowledge her. She waits patiently as she drums her fingers on the sleek surface. She must feel his eyes on her because she’s suddenly turning and making eye contact. She makes a face at him and Roger can’t help but grin.
Y/N suddenly turns when the bartender stands in front of her. He frowns when a man slides up to her, placing a hand on her back. Roger watches as she shrugs off his arm and moves a bit to the side but the man doesn’t seem to get the memo.
Roger stands and makes his way to the bar, ignoring some of the fans calling his name.
“Really, I’m fine and with my friends. Please leave me alone.”
The man doesn’t falter, crowding Y/N against the bar, and leaning into her face, “C’mon gorgeous, someone like you shouldn’t be all alone. I promise you’ll have fun with me.”
Roger grabs the man by the shoulders, roughly pulling him away from Y/N. Without turning towards her, he asks if she’s okay but before he can hear the answer, the man shoves him. “What’s your problem?!”
Roger glares at him, gearing himself up for a good fist fight. “My problem is you. The lady said no.”
“Roger,” Y/N says softly, slipping her arms around his waist, “it’s okay. Leave it, please.”
Roger glare doesn’t soften but he does catch the bartender’s eye and nods toward the man. “Piss off.”
The man glares back, “Fuck off, prick! You -“ The bartender cuts him off, yanking on his arm as he starts shoving him towards the exit.
“My hero!” Y/N laughs in his ear, planting a kiss on his neck. “What would I do without you?”
Rog grins, turning and gathering her in a hug, “Get harassed more often.”
Y/N grins, “Probably, but luckily you’re always here when I need you.”
“And I always will be,” he promises, squeezing her before releasing her and grabbing some of the drinks. “Now c’mon, love. Time to celebrate a good gig!”
Y/N grins, lifting a beer and screaming “Long live Queen!”
The crowd echoes the call and Roger thinks that maybe the night is even better than he initially thought.
#JJ writes#JJ gets back into writing#queen fanfiction#queen fanfic#queen fic#queen blurbs#Roger Taylor x reader#Roger taylor imagine#roger taylor reader insert#roger taylor x y/n#roger taylor blurb
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"Slut!"
Pairing - Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader
Summary - It was perfect. Lovelorn and nobody knows. Love thorns all over this rose. You almost forgot just how hard the fall back to reality is. But if they call you a slut, it might be worth it for once.
Steve Rogers Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist
"She goes through guys like a train-"
You immediately change the channel. The next one isn't better. You don't know why you thought it would be.
"The Stark last name and the long list of ex-lovers, that's her claim to fame. I mean, let's be honest here, she's a slu-" The tabloid reporter is abruptly cut off as the screen before you goes dark.
You look up to find Steve with the remote in his hand. He glares at the screen like the reporter was still talking, "You shouldn't be watching that."
"I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't be. It's despicable. They were - the things they're calling you-"
"A slut," you finish for him.
His eyes dart to you, that furrow between his eyebrows getting deeper and deeper with every word spoken, "It's not true. This isn't journalism, it's slander."
You weren't sure how this happened. Sure, it was only a matter of time before they found you out. This wasn't the first time. Not the second or the third either. If the press was to be believed, you were love sick. Love struck with a new man every week.
It wasn't the first time someone called you a slut. It certainly wouldn't be the last.
You stopped living your life in fear of what people would say a long time ago. Being this young was an art. And up until now, you thought you mastered it.
It was simple. You even had your rules. You followed them and no one got hurt - or at the very least, it minimized the damage.
They were going to stare at you. Strangers. Press. The flashing cameras. It came with being a Stark. If they're going to look, you gave them something to look at. You didn't so much as step out on the street with a single hair out of place. You were flawless. Always.
You were nineteen, and on the heels of a breakup with your second ever boyfriend, the first time someone spit that word at you - "slut!" It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. It almost made you laugh. You realized that they didn't really care about your love life or about the trail of broken hearts you were supposedly leaving behind. They wanted a spectacle. They wanted a show. If you're going to be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.
It was easier after that. You knew the truth. The people around you knew the truth. You let everyone else believe what they wanted. You did what you wanted. You lived your life without worrying about being called a slut. They were going to call you one anyway. And if they call you a slut, you might as well make it worth it.
You gave just enough to keep them satisfied. Never anything too real. Never too much. Just enough that they wouldn't dare peak behind closed doors. Just enough to be able to live your life.
There were was a cost, of course. No one took you seriously. You dealt with the vague humiliation of the rumors constantly swirling about your hips and thighs and whispered sighs.
And though you inherited the Stark genius, no one cared about what you thought, what you had to say.
In that, the reporter was right, your love life was far more interesting than your thoughts on quantum mechanics or the military industrial complex. That was what you were known for.
For the most part, you were okay with it. You were willing to pay it all.
That was until you fell in love with Steve Rogers. Suddenly, you weren't willing to give them crumbs. You weren't willing to expose a love that felt this delicate.
You sit on the couch, huddled in your sweatpants, pensively staring at the blank screen.
This time, it was different. This wasn't a show, not a spectacle. It was real, an exposed nerve that the world decided was fair game. You were fair game and it was open season.
Steve settles beside you, draping an arm around your midsection. He kisses your temple, "Tony thinks it's probably best that you lay low for a while."
"Yes, well, my brother is the expert on PR damage control."
It wasn't the same though. You both knew it. Tony had done far worse with far more women. Yet, he would never pay the price you were paying in this very moment.
Steve's arms tighten around you like he's shielding you from the storm, "It's not right. It's not fair that you're being forced to sequester yourself. You're being punished but what exactly was your crime?"
"I fell in love with Steve Rogers, that was my crime." You fell for the man everyone wanted, the man who was in the wrong place at the right time.
"I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head.
"For what?"
"You warned me this would happen."
It was true. You told him exactly what would happen, but even you didn't anticipate exactly how bad things would get.
You'd been with Steve for just under a year. And up until a week ago, only a select few knew. You both agreed to keep it a secret from the public. You felt protective over the love you shared, it was more real than anything else you'd ever had. You wanted to keep it to yourself, out of the hands of people that would tear you both to shreds without a second thought.
Steve felt the same. Though he was more worried about the enemies he made over the years.
It made sense to protect the relationship, to protect yourselves until you were both ready. You wanted to protect him from what you knew was lurking around the corner. Steve was still so new to the 21st century. Dating in the public eye wasn't easy. Dating a Stark wasn't easy. For almost an entire year, you used every publicity trick in the book - and it worked.
But then, you heard it, the whispers, rumors bubbled about your newest future ex-lover.
You only agreed to going public because everyone told you it was time, because they promised that the timing couldn't have worked out better than this. It was better to do this on your own terms than have it leaked.
No one knew how bad it would get.
"Are you sure? There's no going back after this," you whisper, standing in the hallway of your apartment. You could practically hear the cameras flashing outside your apartment. You'd never been this nervous to leave your apartment before. You'd been through the plan a million times. You'd be exposed to the cameras for a matter of seconds. Happy was already waiting with the door to your SUV open, ready for you to jump in. You'd walk outside holding Steve's hand - a sort of silent announcement to the world. "It won't be easy."
"I don't care," Steve promises, kissing the palm of your hand. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm proud to call you mine."
You tenderly stroke his cheek, "And if it blows up in your pretty face?"
He smiles down at you, "You're worth it."
"We'll pay the price, I guess." But deep down, you know. You'll pay the price, he won't.
The cameras had never been that loud before. Even though your announcement went off without a hitch, even though your publicist couldn't have been more pleased, not even they could have predicted how bad things would get.
It seemed like the whole world was calling you that four letter word.
At first, it was mostly online. People were mean, you knew that. You were prepared for nasty comments. Steve's most staunch supporters thought he could do better. People rejoiced in the spectacle your love life turned into. You were a laughing stock all over again. All that you were prepared for. Then some rabid fans leaked your phone number.
You decided that it would be a good time to disconnect anyway.
But it didn't end there. Not even close.
The day after you were expected to make an appearance for a charity you founded. It was just a quick 2 minute speech. And though the event had been throughly vetted, you'd never forget the way your blood ran cold when mid-sentence someone screamed that four letter word over and over again until security dragged them out. You continued until your speech was done, but there was no hiding the way your hands trembled.
From what you heard, the video was still making its rounds online.
You were expected to make an appearance two days after that. An event honoring your father. An event you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into to make sure it was impeccable, an event worthy of honoring your father. The same event you were practically uninvited from.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's just me. I come in peace," Tony jokes.
"I'm glad," you sigh. "I was worried I was going to have to get another number."
Tony sighs into the phone, "How are you holding up?"
"I've been better."
"I'm afraid I don't come bearing good news."
"What now, Tony?"
"That event you had Friday night, the one for dad?"
You pinch the bridge of your nose. You already knew were this was going. "What about it?"
"They want me to take over for you."
You bitterly scoff, "This week just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"
"You say the word and I'll tell them to fuck off."
"No, don't do that. It's for dad."
"You planned this whole thing single-handedly. You deserve to be the one up there." You don't say a word. He's right, you both know it. It doesn't change the situation you've been put in. "You are still going, right? Come on, you have to go."
"They broke into my house, Tony."
"What? Are you okay?"
"Happy just told me," you explain, sparing Tony the most gory details. "The one in L.A. Apparently, it is now covered in spray paint. You wanna guess what they wrote?"
"Where was your security?" Tony demands.
"Here. Trying to keep people off my sidewalk."
"I'm so sorry."
"I just - I don't think it's a good idea. At least until I get more security."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you've got Steve there. At least I know he'll keep you safe."
You almost smile. Tony was never his biggest fan, but you mostly credit that to him being an overprotective big brother. And the situation you'd found yourself in did nothing to win Tony's over good graces, "It's not his fault, Tony."
"It kinda is, but I digress. Listen, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll go streak in front of the Tower if that'll take some heat off of you."
And though you effectively doubled your security in the last two days, nothing would change anyone's mind about you. You were the villain tainting their hero.
You broke down after that call, violently sobbing against Steve's shoulder. He just pulled you in even tighter.
It reminds you of why you're doing all this. So you can be together, out in the open. That in a world of boys, he's a gentleman.
You squeeze his hand, "You're worth it."
"I'm not worth having your reputation torn to shreds."
And maybe they're right about you. Maybe you do get love struck. Maybe his eyes are like the world's strongest liquor, and it went straight to your head. Maybe you do get love sick. Sure, your life has momentarily fallen apart. It's magic, madness, heaven, and sin, all rolled into one. But if they're going to call you a slut, it might be worth it for once. "But what if all I need is you?"
Steve Rogers Masterlist
AnonymityIsFun Masterlist
Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist
As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛
Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a
#anonymityisfunwriter#anonymityisfun#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x female reader#steve rogers fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers#captain america#steve rogers fic#steve rogers x y/n#captain america x reader#captain america x female reader#captain america x you#steven grant rogers#steve rogers angst#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers one shot#steve rogers au#steve rogers series#reader insert#x reader#inspired by taylor swift#slut!#slut! taylor swift#steve x reader#steve x you#steve rogers x fem!reader
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Musicians Masterlist
The Beatles
Paul McCartney
coming soon!
George Harrison
coming soon!
Queen
Roger Taylor
WIP - Home At Last
John Deacon
coming soon!
Other
Bo Burnham
coming soon!
Shawn Mendes
coming soon!
Walker Burroughs
coming soon!
Request here!
Main Masterlist
#masterlist#reader insert#paul mccartney#george harrison#roger taylor#john deacon#shawn mendes#walker burroughs#bo burhnam
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Hangman X Mercury!Daughter Reader
(A/n: Yet another one of my *insert a franchise* x queen band reader fics. I'm not even sorry for this. XD. It takes place modern day, so just imagine Live Aid now, basically. Also, for the sake of the fic, Jim Hutton will be an Admiral at Top Gun. Just go with it. Do not repost. Enjoy.)
The crowd roared as you, (your father) Freddie Mercury and your uncles, Brian May and John deacon, along with your godfather, Roger Taylor bowed. As you stood back up from the bow, the sound of a plane engine came overhead. You looked up and saw Jake's F-18 barrel rolling over Wembley Stadium. You laughed and shook your head and did a slight salute to him.
Five hours later, you walk into the Hard Deck and see the entire of the Dagger Squad crowded around a TV which was re-running Live Aid. You smirk when you see that everyone's eyes are glued to Queen's set, more specifically, your solo during Hammer To Fall.
"Damn, I look good onstage." you mutter to Penny as she hands you a beer and you give her the money. "Thanks." You see your other father, five-star admiral, Jim Hutton, call sign 'Bud'. You smile at him as you give a small salute.
"I say your performance, Y/n. I'm sorry I couldn't be there to see it." His soft, Irish accent came as a welcome, yet familiar, change as he pulled you in for a hug.
"It's fine, we c'n still see it. Apparently the BBC are still showing it." You say, gesturing to a TV, which had it on. Jake watched as you interacted with the Admiral. 'How the hell did you know him?' he thought before going back to watch you on the screen. He smirked as the concert set was finished and the sound of a plane thundered overhead. On the screen, you looked up and smiled, shaking your head before doing a mini salute. "I think that was quite a nice touch, personally." You say to your father who is sitting beside you and watching the screen. "Papa should be coming with the guys. I left just after they started talking to Mick Jagger."
"I think your pilot wants to talk with you, love." He said, gesturing to Jake, who had walked over. "I'll leave you two be." He walked to the outside tables and sat down.
"That was some move, Hangman." You smirked as he stood beside you.
"Glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart.” Jake responded as the Dagger Squad’s jaws dropped.
“Hi, um, I’m Y/n Mercury.”
“Thought you were going by Hutton-Mercury.” Phoenix piped up. She had been friends with you ever since you had ran into her the night you met Jake.
“Nah, Mercury on Stage, Hutton-Mercury for government shit a-“
“And Seresin everywhere else.” Jake whispered in your ear but you knew full well that everyone herd him.
“You ain’t put a ring on it, so I ain’t changing it yet.”
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Beating You
pairing/s: roger taylor x reader
summary: you and roger go out on an arcade date
warning/s: fluff, one very persistent and unwelcome person
You and Roger were out together on your second date since you've made it official. The both of you were awkward together, only having short side hugs and shy smiles to show affection. Obviously, you wanted to do more couple things with him, but your relationship was still new and you felt that you were going too fast if you acted on it.
Roger took you to the arcade, wanting to have some fun with you. You happily went with him, making a jabbing comment on how you would beat his ass.
The lights in the arcade were bright and colourful, highlighting the tops of peoples' heads as they moved from stall to stall. There were a variety of games where you and Roger could play together, and you bet your ass that the both of you will play a racing game against each other.
"So, what do you want to do first?" Roger asked you, excitement already filling his blue eyes. He exchanged some of his bills for tokens to use for the machines.
"Hm, I was thinking Wack-A-Mole," You said, a smug smirk worming its way on your face. "The one with the most hits gets all the tickets."
"Oh, you are on, darling." He pulled you to the game, which was thankfully unoccupied. You watched as he put the tokens in, and started the game for the both of you. He handed you the cushioned hammer and you both began to slam it against the rising metal moles on the machine. It lasts for half a minute, with his score 5 points higher than yours. Roger looked at you with a smirk and reached out to take your tickets.
"That's not fair, you're a drummer!" You whined out, following him to the next game. Your boyfriend—wow he's your boyfriend— laughed and led you to a racing game, already sitting down on the mock driver's chair. You plop on the other seat, adjusting it before positioning your feet between the accelerator and brakes.
"You should've thought about that before choosing it for the first game, love." The endearment slipped past his lips so smoothly, it made you blush. Of course, he had called you that before, but now that you were dating, it had a different effect. You just playfully pushed him on the shoulder before grabbing the tokens and inserting them into both of your machines. The game starts and you both decide on a location and your cars. Soon, the race was starting, and the both of you shout curses at one another when you purposefully bump into each other. You were so focused on the game that you didn't notice that Roger had slowed down to glance and admire you.
When your car passed the finish line as first, you jumped up from your seat and pumped your fist up in celebration. "Suck that, loser!" You stuck your tongue out at Roger, who just shook his head in amusement. The rest of the day, the both of you moved from game to game, gathering as much tickets as you both could manage.
Roger had to go to the bathroom after your 10th game, so you stood next to a photobooth and waited for him. A couple of people had come up to you to flirt, but you politely said no, flattered that they even wanted to in the first place. Unfortunately, though, one girl just couldn't take a no and kept persisting.
"I'm with my boyfriend, I'm sorry," You tried to tell her, but she stubbornly stuck to your side, clinging onto your arm.
"I don't see him anywhere! So, you must be lying!" The girl said, and you resisted the urge to face palm. Was she dared to do this? Wasn't this harassment?
"Their boyfriend is right here, and he would appreciate it if you let go of them right now. " Roger glowered at the girl, puffing out his chest in jealousy. She visibly tensed and apologized, scuttering away. You watched him glare at the disappearing figure, almost as if he was expecting her to come back and fight. You touched his arm, calming him and getting his attention at the same time. Roger whipped his head to look at you, and hesitantly reached your hand. "Hold my hand so people know we're dating."
You burst out with laughter, enjoying his embarrassed face before moving to interlock both of your hands and reveling in your first hand hold. In a spur of confidence, you leaned in to kiss his cheek quite quickly, showing whoever was watching you both that you were on a date. Roger smiled widely, and pulled you to the counter to exchange your tickets for a prize. He got a small lion stuffed toy and handed it to you bashfully. You hugged it close to you chest, happily ssnuggling closer to him as you walked out of the arcade.
Roger walked you all the way back to your house, which was thankfully not that far, ranting on and on about band practice and his biology exam the next day. You listened to him with a small grin, commenting once in a while. When you arrived at your front door, the both of you stood out there for a while, not wanting to let go of each other's hands.
"I had fun today," You started off, swinging your hands in between the two of you. He hummed softly, his eyes flickering to your lips. You bite it, hoping he would make the first move. "You should really get better at playing games."
Roger snorted, shaking his head as he looks away briefly. His baby blue eyes were staring at you intensely, making you shiver in anticipation. He leaned in slowly, and your breath gets caught in your throat. "Move away if you don't want this kiss."
He closed the distance between you two, cupping your cheek as he softly moved his lips against yours. Your eyes flutter close, kissing back intently, relishing your first kiss together. It didn't have fireworks like how movies and books descrobed it to be. But, instead, it was like a flower petal falling from its bud and gently swaying to the ground with the help of the soft breeze.
Pulling away from each other, you released the breath you were holding in and opened your eyes to see a flushed Roger in front of you. You saw him lick his lips before swooping in to steal one more kiss. You giggle and grin against it, already knowing this would be your favourite pass time.
Breaking apart for the last time, he reluctantly lets go of you, allowing you to walk backwards to your front door, and sadly waves goodbye to you. Your eyes followed him as he went away, turning back to you to blow a kiss. You playfully caught it and pretended to throw it away. He clutched at his chest, feigning to be hurt. Finally, he vanished from your sight as he turned a corner, leaving you empty. You glance down at the stuffed lion in your hands and hug it tight, acting as if it were you boyfriend. Damn, you missed him already.
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REQUEST GUIDELINES
(I don’t know what happened to my old post so here’s this)
Hello my loves! Make sure you read this before requesting plssss 💕
If my requests are open, it will say so in my bio. If they are closed, it will also say so! If my requests are closed, pls wait until they are open again to submit a request.
Please send requests through my ask box ONLY. This is the way for me to have an official record of them and they won’t get lost in my messages.
I write smut (I have smut queen in my bio for a reason lol). If I post something smut, you need to be 18+ to read it. I am not responsible for what you consume and will not be held liable.
If you are under 18, you are NOT allowed to request smut. If there is no age in your bio, then I am going to assume you are under 18 and will not write the request.
I have the right to not do any request that I receive. This hasn’t really happened before, but if I can’t get the writing flowing for the request then I will message you privately to see if there’s something we can work out instead.
I’ve had chronic wrist problems for 8 years. I had surgery 7/6/2022 and it should be fixed now. However, with that being said my wrist still does hurt sometimes. I’m also in grad school, so It will take me time to get to your request. Don’t worry, I do have it and I will write it I just have issues 😂
I primarily write reader insert fics. Those are my specialty and most of what I’m comfortable writing.
Anyways, with that being said, here’s who I currently write for and the fandom they are from:
Band of Brothers:
Eugene Roe
Joe Toye
Joeseph Liebgott
Charles Grant
Carwood Lipton
Ronald Speirs
Lewis Nixon
Donald Malarkey
Edward Shames
Edward “Babe” Heffron
Harry Welsh
Henry Jones
Denver “Bull” Randleman
Daryl C “Shifty” Powers
Floyd Talbert
John Martin
William “Bill” Guarnere
Frank Perconte
George Luz
Richard “Dick” Winters
Antonio C. Garcia
Harry F. Welsh
Edward J. Tipper Jr
Lester A. Hashey
The Pacific:
Charles “Chuck” Tatum
Eugene Sledge
John Basilone
Manuel “Manny” Rodriguez
Muriel “Snafu” Shelton
Robert Leckie
Romus “RV” Burgin
Sidney Phillips
Wilbur "Bud" "Runner" Conley
James Paul “JP” Jordan
Bill "Hoosier" Smith
Andrew "Ack Ack" Haldane
Undrafted:
Pat Murray
Arthur Barone
Fotch
Ty Delllamonica
Vinnie Malzhan
David Stein
John Garvey
Polacco
Dells
Zapata
Bohemian Rhapsody:
Joe Mazzello/John Deacon
Rami Malek
Gwilym Lee/Brian May
Ben Hardy/Roger Taylor
Lucy Boynton
Allen Leech
(For those with just actors names listed, I’m not comfortable writing for their characters. Unless it is Freddie platonically. I do not write for Mary for reasons. For ones with actors and characters I write for just their actor as well)
Queen (the band):
Roger Taylor
Freddie Mercury (only platonically)
Brian May
John Deacon
Stranger Things:
Steve Harrington
Eddie Munson
Chrissy Cunningham
Robin Buckley
Nancy Wheeler
Argyle
Jonathan Byers
Jim Hopper
Joyce Byers
I do not write for any characters under the age of 18 in the show (even if their actor is 18+ if their character is not I do not write for them)
Marvel:
Steve/Captain America
Wanda/Scarlett Witch
Sam/Captain America
Bucky
Peter Parker/Spiderman (but only Andrew Garfield’s spiderman, as we see him graduate)
Moon Knight/Steven Grant/Mark/Jake
Doctor Strange/Stephen Strange
Loki
Thor
Natasha/Black Widow
Yelena
Kate Bishop
Shang-Chi
If you don’t see any marvel character listed that you’d like just message me and I’ll add them!
Thank you for taking the time to request something from me and thinking of me to write it! I am honored to do so. Happy reading my friends!
#danielle answers#danielle writes#the pacific#marvel#band of brothers#stranger things#bohemian rhapsody#queen#undrafted
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When universes collide
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/YHkNpMR
by APhantom19
You are a young author, who spends their free time writing novels and a little bit of fan fiction. In your world, the Avengers are figments of a comic book writer's imagination.
One day you're writing in a cafe and sending the final draft of your book to your publisher. The next, you awake in a parallel universe. 2023 becomes 2013. Your New York is no longer the New York you awake to.
Words: 4512, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Thor (Movies), Captain America (Movies)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Characters: Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Stephen Strange, James "Bucky" Barnes, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Loki (Marvel), Nick Fury, Wanda Maximoff
Additional Tags: Reader Insert, waking up in a new universe, knowing about the future from films, Adjustment Period, Author Is Sleep Deprived, author is shit posting, random idea that has probably been done before, Angst, Depression, Mental Illness, Denial, Grief, what is happening, will make tons of Taylor swift references, Reader Knows, fictional becomes reality, will be adding relationship tags later, Reader AFAB
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/YHkNpMR
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Closed Doors [Roger Taylor x Reader]
Whoops, I haven’t written in forever :// Anyways this fic is kind of based on Ben Platt’s new single ‘Rain’ and uhh I’ve completely fallen in love with it. It got me into the mood to write again, too. Go check it out of maybe read the lyrics to it!
Summary: Roger’s cheated, and for the first time in years, you’ve decided to close your doors again.
TW: a n g s t, cheating ig, messy, unedited, and ‘eh’ writing
Word Count: 1,280
PART TWO
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The soft sound of Eleanor Rigby drifted through the room. You were leaning against the couch’s arm as you watched the TV. To be honest, you weren’t really paying attention. Instead, your mind was on your boyfriend of three years. Roger was due to come home today in an hour or so from an extra-long tour. You both absolutely hated being apart from each other, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make for him.
Your eyes drifted to the pile of mail on the coffee table. You hadn’t gone through it due to laziness. Besides, they were all mostly for Roger, with him being famous and all.
You moved your body to go sit down on the couch, your hands sifting through the mail. Most of them were for Roger, as you had known. Except for one. Your hand hovered of it before picking it up, lifting it to your face. You leaned back on the couch before opening the letter, taking out the letter. A few images fell out of the envelope. They fell on the table, along with a paperclip that must have been holding it together, but came off during the mailing process.
The letter made you nervous for some reason. You unfolded the paper and began reading.
Dear Y/n L/n,
I’m going to cut straight to the chase: Roger’s been cheating on you. WIth me. He has been for a long time, too. Y’know, it was a good deal. We’d... ‘hang out’ together when you weren’t around and then just continue with our lives. But recently he’s been ignoring me. Putting me off without talking to me like an even bigger asshole, y’know? So, to get revenge for him ignoring me, I’ve come to you. Enjoy the pictures I’ve included!
-Constance
There was no last name at the bottom. That was it. You bit your lip. He wouldn’t cheat on you. Would he? He knows how you feel about that. How anybody would feel about that.
Leaning over the table, you looked through the pictures. They were all of some woman and Roger, getting a little too close for comfort in rooms alone, some getting a little more suggestive than others. Your vision slowly became blurry with tears as you put them down. You couldn’t see the face of the woman. They were all scribbled out in ink.
Coincidentally, right when you put the images down, the door had opened.
“Love? I’m home!” a familiar voice called.
Your head turned, seeing your blonde and cheating boyfriend standing in the doorway. You didn’t respond to him, your lips quivering slightly as you stood up.
“Hey, are you okay? Are- are you crying?” he asked as he got closer, putting his bags down.
“Don’t come closer,” you said, your voice more bitter than you thought it would be.
“What? What are you talking about?” he asked, genuinely confused.
“I’m talking about Constance,” you returned, watching as his face froze up. “And how much of a backstabber you are,” you added, voice cracking.
“Y/n, love, I-I’m sorry, It didn’t mean anything,” he started, starting to reach out to you as he stepped closer.
“Then why did you do it, huh?” you asked. You picked up the pictures and letter, shoving them into his hands before storming off to your shared room.
“Y/n. Y/n!” he called as he let the papers fall down from his hands, jogging after you. You shut the door behind yourself, sliding down the smooth wood so you were sitting down, leaning against it. You could hear Roger coming up from behind the door, pausing-- almost hesitantly-- before knocking on it.
“Y/n, please open up,” he begged.
You pulled your knees to your chest as tears started to stream slowly from your eyes.
“Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that I trusted you with anything, that I had even met you in the first place. You know exactly how I feel about cheating, Roger, and yet you still went and did it,” you bit back, leaning your head back.
“Y/n, please open the door. We can talk about this. Please, Y/n, I’m sorry.” You could hear his voice breaking from the other side, and it almost tempted you in obliging to his wishes. But you controlled yourself. You were not about to let this happen again.
“Three boyfriends. Three boyfriends before you and two of them I am sure cheated on me. But now, I suppose it’s three I’m sure of, huh? My heart has been broken so many times, but I kept on hoping and hoping that maybe, just maybe one day I’d find somebody who would actually care and would stay loyal. I was stupid to think that person would be you. I should’ve known you were like the rest.” You were wiping the tears from your face now. You couldn’t be crying right now. Not for him. He didn’t deserve it. Because if you did cry, that would show he still had a chance. But he didn’t. Not right now.
“I’ve worked so hard to open up my doors again, and now it’s just all gone to waste,” you said, angrier at yourself than at Roger.
“Y/n...” he said after a long pause.”Please come out,” he said one last time. You couldn’t see it from the other side of the door, but he was crying. And hard. He hadn’t remembered the last time he had cried this much.
The rest of the night slowly progressed. You opened the door slightly and looked down the hall, seeing Roger had resorted to sleeping on the couch. You exhaled with relief and called Freddie.
“Hello?” he said from the other line.
“Freddie,” you said quietly back.
“Y/n darling, is that you?” he asked, his voice brightening. “I would have thought you were with Roger catching up on everything from the tour at the moment.”
You cringed at his name.
“Actually, we haven’t really had a chance to catch up,” you admitted softly.
“Oh, why is that?” Fred asked curiously.
“Um, I’ll tell you later. But, is there perhaps a chance that I could stay with you guys? Just for the night, perhaps?” you asked nervously.
“Oh, of course, love! Stay as long as you need. The rest of us in the house miss you, especially me,” Freddie said cheekily.
You laughed quietly. “I miss you all, too. I’ll be over in a moment. Give the cats a kiss for me,” you said.
“Of course! I’ll see you soon. darling,” he answered.
“See you, Fred.”
“See you, Y/n.”
You hung up after another second or so. You stood there for a moment. This was it. You’d stay at Fred’s for now, come back, break off the relationship, and then you’re gone from Roger’s grasp.
You packed up a bag and took your set of keys, opening the door. You hadn’t bothered to leave a note or anything. It didn’t matter too much, anyway. Before you closed the door, though, you took one last glance at Roger. Dried tears were on his face, his eyes shut as he slept peacefully.
You pulled your eyes away from his direction and turned, closing the door and shutting it behind you. You locked it afterward, the key making a soft click as you turned it in the keyhole.
Stepping into your car, you started your way to Freddie’s house, no music playing, no sounds, just you and your thoughts. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white as you forced yourself to not look back.
#Roger Taylor#roger taylor imagine#roger taylor reader insert#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor fanfic#roger taylor angst#brian may x reader#john deacon x reader#freddie mercury x reader#ben hardy x reader#queen#queen band
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SHE'S DIFFERENT
Request: Sis I’m gonna request a Ben! Roger Taylor imagine were mans is dating a younger girl like 19 and just fluff and somewhat steamy, you can go from there bc I just need that
Pairing: Ben!Roger Taylor x young!Reader
Genre: fluff
Tags:
Requested by: @langdonzvoid
Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @sinviix @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125 @unlikelygalaxygiver
Warnings: drunk!Roger, language, some angst, makeout session
A/N: I did it but I have to warn you that there's some angst because I live for the angst and I can't help myself (sorry). Also, to whoever prefers the original Roger Taylor, I guess it'll work too even it the Gif is from Ben Hardy's Roger Taylor. Enjoy <3.
Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist
The boy I had sent to look for Roger came out of the building, the blond drummer walking behind him. "hey there, beautiful"
I smiled at Roger and waited for the boy to get back inside before walking towards my boyfriend. "Hi, Blondie." he stared at me with a big grin on his face. "why did you call me?"
"I wanted to see you" he replied, discreetly tangling his fingers with mine. "I missed that pretty face of yours" he leaned on to kiss me, just to be stopped by me. "what?"
"Rog" I gave him a warning glare, pushing his chest lighty. "what are you playing at?"
"nothing" he muttered, leaning again, this time with one of his hands holding my hip. And again, I stopped him.
"Roger."
"what? I just want to kiss my girl" I raised my eyebrows. He groaned, rolling his eyes. "I want them to know, okay?" I couldn't help but snort. "why are you laughing? Y/n" he pulled me closer by my hips. "Y/n, don't laugh. I mean it."
"No you don't" he clenched his jaw and my laugh faded. "Okay baby, you mean it. But why now?"
"I don't know" he mumbled. "just- please, Y/n. I want them to know you."
It was my first month working as a waitress, and since I was doing well, the manager asked me to attend the bar that night.
At one in the morning, seeing no patrons had entered, I dismissed the two waiters that were working with me. I was getting ready to call it a night when the gates of the pub abruptly opened, letting Roger Taylor in.
"GOOD MORNING!" he yelled dramatically loudly.
"It's still night, Rog!" Freddie fucking Mercury entered behind him, along with their other band mates. "isn't it, my darling?" he asked.
I stayed still, not knowing what to say, while the pub was filled with the accompanying the band.
At four in the morning they were all blackout drunk and making a mess. When John Deacon threatened to fall off the table he was standing on, I knew it was time to call the manager.
Right before grabbing the phone, I saw Roger stumbling into our locker room. "shit. Hey!" I ran to stop him, but when I entered, he was already throwing up all over the floor.
He stared confused at the mess he had made, struggling to stand up "Thought it was the toilets." I ran towards him when I saw he lost the balance. "shhhit... I'm so fucked up. Sorry"
"I'll take you to the actual toilets" I informed him, passing one of his arms over my shoulders.
"I'm going to be sick" he managed to warn me. I quickly made him kneel in front of the toilet, holding back his hair with one hand while I put the other against his forehead to steady him while he was throwing up. He then looked at me up and down, shamelessly checking me out. "have someone told you how gorgeous you are?"
I raised my eyebrows "are you sure you wanna hit on me right now?" He opened his mouth to speak, but I made lean down when I noticed he was going to puke once more.
"wanna come home with me, beautiful?" he asked looking over his shoulder, the ghost of a smirk showing up on his pretty face.
"not tonight" I replied.
"why not?" he whined, pouting at me.
"well, you're wasted" I stated, letting his head rest over one of his arms while I reached for a piece of toilet paper to clean his mouth. "I would be taking advantage of you."
"really?" I nodded and he opened his eyes widely. "and you care?" I nodded again and he frowned at my words, visibly confused.
I sighed and got up. "I have to phone my boss. Your friends and you are making one hell of a mess"
Before I left, he managed to hold my wrist and lazily pulled me to him. "what's your name?"
"Y/n" I replied.
"wanna go out with me, Y/n?"
I couldn't hold back a snort. "now?"
"yes?"
"No!" I replied, biting back a laugh.
He knitted his eyebrows, sitting up against the wall. "do you have a pen?" I nodded. "can you write down your address on my arm, please?"
"why?" I asked, even though I was already grabbing the pen.
"I'll have to pick you up tomorrow"
"why would you?" I questioned, moving closer to write down my address.
"because we're not going out now" a smug smirk made its way to his lips, and I couldn't hold back the grin forming on mines.
"Darling" I called him, taking my time to trace in black ink the letters and numbers of my address. "tomorrow you're going to have a terrible hungover"
I didn't expect him to remember, but the next morning he was there, leaning against the door frame with a mischievous grin on his lips and his sunglasses shielding his eyes from the light.
Roger guided me into the studio where his friends were arguing about God knows what.
He cleared his throat. "Guys" when I noticed he was getting anxious I squeezed his hand to offer him some kind of support. "this is Y/n"
They all stared at me confused and I offered them a warm smile. "Hi"
"well look at that" Freddie spoke with a teasing smirk on his face. "he finally remembers the groupies' names."
"she's not a groupie, Fred" Roger half growled at his friend. "She's my girlfriend."
"Your what?" Brian was the next to speak, his eyes going from Roger to me and back to Roger. "how old is she?"
"I'm nineteen" I replied firmly, getting slightly mad at their reactions. "and I'm right here, there's no need to ask Roger, I think I know my age."
Brian raised his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, I'm just shocked. I mean-" he opened his mouth a couple of times but didn't dare to continue the sentence.
"wait... I know her" John finally spoke, frowning at me. "aren't... Aren't you the girl from that pub? We met her a few months ago in a pub, guys." I nodded and he gave me an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for the mess."
"so Roger, darling." we all turned to Freddie, who was talking again. "a few months, huh? Did you cheated on the poor kid already?" I started at him confused, not really understanding the cause of this behavior.
Brian looked at Roger, whose face I couldn't see, and then gave his other friend a warning glare "Freddie-"
"what?" he stared at a Roger while talking, like no one else was there. "She's young and we know how is Rog, right?"
"Freddie, shut up" John warned calmly, staring worried at both me and my boyfriend.
"she's different" Roger growled with his jaw clenched and his knuckles going white due to the strength he was using to close his fist.
"I don't buy this, darling" Freddie took a hesitant step towards us and I realized what was happening. "she might not be a groupie, but she's one of toys." he was drunk.
I didn't realize I had let go of Roger until I saw him stalking towards Freddie with no other intention than punch him.
"Roger wait!"
Brian put himself in the middle, shielding Freddie and managing to somehow hold Roger back.
"say that again Fred" he hissed, trying to walk past his friend. "say that again and I'll throw you off the bloody window."
Apparently, Freddie took it as a challenge, because he stepped closer to Roger and whispered "she's one of your toys"
There was a second of silence before Roger pushed Brian with enough strength to get him out of his way.
John quickly got up to stop him while brian did the same "Roger, stop!" I tugged his arm, making him step back. "he's drunk. Rog." I tugged him again in an attempt to gain his attention, which now was on Freddie. "he's fucking drunk. Calm down."
he finally locked his eyes with mines, something similar to fear dancing on his pupils. Before I could say anything about it, he walked out of the studio.
I sighed when John and Brian gave me apologetic glances and I left to find Roger. It wasn't difficult at all, since he was leaning against one of the walls of the hall, trying to light up a cigarette with shaky hands.
I walked to him and, without saying anything, I grabbed to lighter from his hand and lit up the cigarette between his lips. "he didn't mean it" I whispered, letting him inhale the smoke before grabbing the cigarette and giving it a puff myself. "he's wasted."
"he meant it. He fucking believes it." He groaned. Giving me a quick glance, he took the cigarette away from me. "don't smoke, baby."
I huffed while he gave it a couple of puffs. "why you can but I can't?" I whined, trying to reach the cigarette just for it too be held away from my reach by Roger.
"because I'm fucked up." he replied with a half smile on his face, tucking a few strands of my hair behind my ear. "but you aren't."
We stayed in silence for a moment until he finished the cigarette.
"Y/n?" I looked up at him and prompted him to continue. "do you think what Freddie said it's true?"
"you didn't give me reasons to think like that" I assured him, tugging his jacket for him to lean on me and kiss me. "and I trust you" I whispered against his lips before the kiss turned into something more passionate rather than innocent.
His hands traveled to the small of my back to pull me even closer before going down to my ass "baby I'm no good."
"Oh I'm aware" I stated running my fingers through his hair and giving it a tug that drew a moan from his lips. "seven months it's enough time to realize that." he squeezed my butt before making me jump to wrap my legs around his hips. "Rog" I let out a chuckle when he buried his face on the crook of my neck, giving me light bites. "not here!"
"Okay, beautiful" he gave me a quick kiss before walking to a closed door and kicking it open. "here better?" he asked, closing it behind him.
"I guess" I replied, climbing off him, just to to be backed to the wall, where he attacked my neck and jaw once more while unbuttoning my blouse. "eager, are w-" my teasing words died when his leg got between mines, pressing against my crotch.
"yeah, very much" he growled, taking off his jacket while I was grinding against his thigh. "but, Y/n" I stopped my movements to look at him. "I need you to know I wouldn't-"
"I told you I trust you" I whispered, caressing his cheeks. "Okay?" he nodded, giving me, a quick kiss.
BRIAN'S P. O. V.
"I'm worried" I stated, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. "it's been a while. Why did you have to open your mouth, Freddie?"
"I told you I'm sorry" he groaned, rubbing his temples. "don't be such a bitch, darling."
"they were very upset" I said, getting up to get out.
"Brian, sit down" Deaky spoke, not bothering on looking up from his bass. "they're fucking somewhere in the building." he then looked at my shocked face "Let them be"
#ben hardy x you#joe mazzello x ben hardy#ben hardy#ben hardy!roger x reader#ben hardy x reader#ben hardy x oc#roger taylor#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor x you#roger taylor x oc#roger taylor x john deacon#roger taylor x brian may#roger taylor reader insert#ben hardy imagine#ben!roger x reader#ben!roger taylor#ben!roger imagine#ben!rogerina#borhap cast#borhap#bohemian rapsody movie#bohemian rhapsody#joe mazzello x you#joe mazzello x oc#joe mazzello x y/n#joe mazzello x reader
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Roger Taylor ;) Alphabet
A Roger Taylor ;) alphabet. Can be read as irl Roger or BohRap Roger.
A- Aftercare
This man considers getting expensive room service to your hotel room as aftercare. Alternatively, he’ll get out of bed to make you a cup of tea whilst you ride out your high, and just talk about anything and everything he can think of.
B- Baby girl
He calls you this every once in a while, though he prefers other pet names, such as ‘love’ or some inside joke nickname. Though he really just loves saying your name.
C- Choking
YES. He is so into choking. Just imagining his hands wrapped around your lovely throat makes him hard. Whether it’s just applying a small amount of pressure, or full on choking, he’s down for it.
D- Dirty Talk
Roger is a bigger fan of dirty talk than he is of moaning and being all around vocal. He’ll talk your ear off any day, paying attention to what you like him saying and keeping it in mind for later.
E- Effort
The amount of effort he puts into whatever you’re doing varies. If you’re having sex after a gig, he’s usually pretty amped up and full of energy, so expect to have troubles walking the next day. However if it’s the morning after, he’ll usually be too tired to really commit to anything, so you’d have to do all of the work.
F- Foreplay
This man is all about foreplay. Sure, he can’t think of anything better than being buried balls deep in your wet pussy, but that doesn’t mean he neglects foreplay. He understands it’s a major turn-on for you, so really he doesn’t mind spending a considerable amount of time with his face between your legs.
G- Goofy
Sex with Roger is always fun and full of laughter, because you two are so comfortable around each other that you constantly crack jokes. He often stops halfway through whatever you’re doing to tell you a dumb joke Deaky told him earlier on in the day.
H- Hickeys
Hickeys galore. This dirty drummer loves leaving love bites all over your body, especially your inner thighs. This way, it’s almost like a dirty little secret between the two of you. He also loves it when you leave a trail of hickeys on his chest, as most of the time he plays with an unbuttoned shirt, and it shows that he’s already taken.
I- Interest
He has a high sex-drive, so he’s always ready to take you in the bathroom of the tour bus, or some back room at the venue he’s playing at. It can get quite tiring to keep up with him at times.
J- Jacking Off
Roger isn’t ashamed of pleasing himself in front of you whatsoever. In fact, you definitely walk in on him every once in a while. And when you aren’t there to take care of his problem yourself, he’ll do it to the thoughts of your hands tangling in his hair as he pounds into you at a pace that leaves you croaking out his name in ecstasy.
K- Kink
He took a particular liking to ice play. Dragging an ice cube across your body with his lips and watching you writhe and squirm beneath him? Gets him going right away.
L- Location
Roger does NOT care where the two of you do it. He loves pushing the limits, and seeing how far the two of you can go before you inevitable get caught. Public bathroom? Check. Back of the tour bus? Check. Freddy’s bathroom during one of his parties? You better bet on it.
M- Moaning
The drummer doesn’t moan as much as you’d have originally thought, though that doesn’t mean he’s completely silent. Sure, he’s vocal in the form of dirty talk, but he prefers to hear your moans over his own.
N- NO
Roger would never do anything that would make you uncomfortable. If whatever new idea you were even remotely unsure about or second-guessing, he wouldn’t force you into it.
O- Oral
This man... Oh, this man. He LOVES giving, so so much. He would spend the entire day between your legs if it was up to him. He loves watching you squirm and moan under his touch, it’s a huge ego boost(not that he really needs it). He can also never get enough of the sight of you on your knees with his cock in your pretty little mouth, saliva dribbling down your chin as you look up at him through your lashes.
P- Priority
On a normal day, Roger would prioritise your pleasure over his, or treat it as equally important as his own. So he would seldom cum before you, however there have been days where he just needed to completely disregard your needs and fuck you senseless, usually after an argument with the band or a tough gig.
Q- Quickie
As you usually go on tour with the band, quickies are sort of the usual for you two. There isn’t much time, between the travelling and playing different venues each night. Roger is the king of quickies. This guy is sexually frustrated 99% of the time, so all you need to do is give him the look and he’ll have you bent over the nearest table.
R- Roleplay
This is something Roger has thought of doing before, however he wasn’t sure if you’d be down with trying. At the end, he found that he didn’t enjoy it as much as he thought, however a few scenarios have stuck with him, so he would’t hesitate if you asked him for a round two.
S- Spanking
YES. He loves spanking, he can’t get enough of seeing you bent over his knees, or over his drum kit. It’s one of his favourite sights. He’d never to anything to make you feel uncomfortable, of course, but if you give him the green light, you won’t be able to sit properly the next day. He especially likes using his drumsticks on you.
T- Toys
Roger would be the one to introduce toys into your bedroom, but nothing too outlandish.
U- Uncertain
Whilst Roger is usually very confident, even he had his moment of uncertainty about his size when you two were about to have sex for the first time. But he brushed it off when he realised you couldn’t even fit half of his length into your mouth.
V- Virgin
He’s no virgin when the two of you meet, that’s for sure. However, if you happen to be a virgin, he’d spend the entire night trying to make you feel as comfortable and good as he possibly can. And if you’re not, then you better bet your ass the first time you two have sex will be the most passionate session ever.
W- Wild Card
He absolutely LOVES sitting you down on his drum-kit and making love to you there. It’s something that he’d always wanted to try, so when you agreed he was over the moon.
X- X Marks the Spot
His neck is his most sensitive part, obviously aside from his cock, so he loves it when you gently graze your teeth along it.
Y- YES
Roger loves it when you pull his hair whilst he eats you out or fucks you. That’s one of his all time favourite things and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He also doesn’t particularly care how hard you tug on it. God knows there’s enough of it on his head.
Z- ZZZ
Roger only every passes out right after sex if he was already tired beforehand. Otherwise, he’d pull you against his side and play with your hair, before the two of you drift off into blissful sleep.
#roger taylor#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor imagine#roger taylor drabble#roger taylor reader insert#ben hardy#alphabet#ns/fw#ns/fw alphabet#bohemian rhapsody#bohemian rhapsody imagine#queen#queen x reader#queen imagine#queen drabble#bohemian rhapsody drabble
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Long Distance ~ R. T.
Roger can't sleep and calls a random number left of a napkin. He expected to find someone to help tire him out. He never thought he'd find love.
[Reposting and major editing of an old fic I had posted on an old blog & crossed posted on ao3]
Warnings: SMUT, +18 ONLY - MINORS DNI; swearing & cursing; unclear timeline (lmao); Brian is a bit of a douche. It's a long ass one, over 20K words. Read at your own risk!
Sometimes, being a rockstar isn’t all it’s cooped up to be.
Especially when on a world tour because it really has a way of derailing one’s internal clock. It’s the reason Roger can’t sleep. He had been hopeful that between the jet lag, the excitement of being back in his own bed, the hectic rehearsal and recording schedule as well as the copious amounts of alcohol he’d consumed at the local dive bar with his mates would be enough to tire him out. Apparently, he’s very mistaken.
He'd done what he usually does: counts sheep, lays in the dark, read the really boring book Brian has suggested. Nothing seems to be working this time around.
For what feels like the thousandth time, Roger turns over in his bed. He almost misses those rock-hard mattresses and non-existent pillows in the hotels around the world. He groans, casting his eyes to the red numbers glowing in the dark room. It’s nearing 1.30am and as much as his body is begging for sleep, his mind wouldn't shut off.
Throwing the light blanket to the side, Roger swings his legs off the bed. There’s no point in laying around, letting his frustration build. He eyes his discarded jacket, deciding that a quick smoke might help him relax just enough to be able to finally fall asleep. Stretching his arms above his head, his back cracks and with a loud sigh, quickly followed by a loud yawn, he lazily crosses his bedroom to reach the jacket he left by the door, fishing his half-empty pack of cigarettes from the pocket. As he rummages around the pockets for his lighter, a crumpled piece of paper flutters to the ground.
With furrowed brows and cigarette dangling from his lips, Roger picks it up from the ground. After having found the lighter, Roger starts walking towards his bed. Lighting the cigarette, he takes a deep drag, letting his lungs fill with nicotine, immediately giving him a sense of calm.
Feeling more relaxed, Roger clamps his teeth gently around the filter, using his now free hands to uncurl the piece of paper. Once he sees the hastily scrawled digits, his lips stretch into a massive grin.
Taking another drag and flicking the ash into the empty ash-tray on his bedside table, he tries to recall when the number was slipped into his pocket. It had to be from earlier that evening as the number had the London area code and he hasn’t worn the jacket on tour as he’d forgotten it at home. However, no matter how hard he thought back to his evening, no specific girl sprang to mind. There had been quite a few that came to chat him and the lads up, but none of them stood out. He doesn’t even remember being particularly flirty with anyone of them.
Roger casts another quick glance at the clock. It’s still early enough that if the girl really was out at the dive bar with them, she’s probably getting home now as he left much earlier than regular, hoping that the jetlag and general exhaustion would lead to a good night sleep.
Deciding that the woman had clearly hoped for a call from him, Roger picks up the receiver and dials the number. Making himself comfortable, he waits for someone to pick up.
It rings much more than he thought it would and he debates if maybe he shouldn’t be calling this late, if it’s better to try again during working hours.
Suddenly, the phone stops ringing, and there is a very groggy and angry voice coming through the line, “Someone better be dead.”
Rogers chuckles. “Well, hello to you too love”.
In response, he only hears a groan and it sounds so deep that he questions if he’s actually speaking to a girl.
“Who is this? And why on earth are you ringing my flat at...” there’s a small pause, as the person on the other line is clearly reaching for something “1.17 in the bloody morning?!”
Roger cringes, closing his eyes as guilt floods his body. He really shouldn’t have called but he really isn’t great at making decisions when tired and slightly inebriated. “I’m sorry, love. Thought you’d want me to call as soon as I found your number.” He hates that he can’t recall a name or even a face.
“I am not your ‘love’!” the girl says angrily, “I have absolutely no clue who you are. Or why on earth you are calling me. I certainly did not give you, my number.”
For a moment, nothing is said on either end and Roger decides d to play it cool, act confident and pretend as if he actually remembers exactly who he’s talking to. “I know we didn't spend that much time together but I -”
“Let me stop you before you start,” she interrupts and Roger can hear her shuffle around, most likely sitting up in her own bed. “I have no idea who you think you are but I can guarantee that I did not give you, my number. And before you ask, no, I don’t have any roommates.”
The girl grunts in discomfort, questioning why she’s entertaining this jackass when she can just hang up and disconnect her phone for the night.
“Oh” the syllable is so sound and dejected that she can’t help but feel a bit sorry for him, even though he woke her at an ungodly hour.
She has no know why she speaks again. “You must have made a terrible impression if some random bird decided to leave you a fake number.”
There’s an offended scoff that comes down the line almost makes up for the unwanted wake-up call. “No girl has ever done that to me. Or would need to do it. I’m a catch, thank you very much.”
“Sure you are, big boy.” She says concededly.
“Are you saying that I’m not?”
She snorts, short and derisive, “I’m sorry to break it to you but it seems that the girl who gave you the number didn’t think you were all that special.”
Roger pouts, stubbing out his long-forgotten cigarette, “You don’t sound all that sorry to me.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m not.”
Roger can’t hep the small laugh that bubbles out, “And would you feel inclined to illuminate me on why?”
“Could it be because some random bloke decided to call me at stupid o’clock trying to get in my knickers?”
“You wish,” and even though she’s never seen him before in her life, she knows he’s smirking.
“Are you really telling me that you weren’t calling in hope of a shag?”
Roger shrugs, deciding to lay down and make himself comfortable, “I’m not going to lie and say I would be unhappy if it happened but that wasn’t the main reason I called.”
She bites, “Why did you call?”
“I…” Roger pauses. Why did he call?
“Are you ok?”
Roger blinks, surprised by the sudden care that seems to colour her voice. “What?”
“I just mean…” she sighs, laying back down and glancing at her alarm clock. “It’s late. Or early, depending on how you want to see it. And your voice sounded a bit off. There must be something on your mind if you think that calling a random stranger in the middle of the night is a good idea.”
She really can’t explain the sudden interest in the man. She doesn’t know him but he sounds so sad, and is clearly lonely. It tugs at her heart in all the best and worst ways. Thank you, childhood trauma.
A small, grateful smile forms on Roger’s face and his voice softens noticeably. “You’re very kind, love. I’m just a bit jet lagged.”
She hums in surprise, “That sounds fascinating! Where did you get back from?”
“That, I’m afraid, is only for friends.” He tuts, “And I don’t even know your name.”
She laughs and Roger’s heart does something weird in his chest that he pointedly ignores.
“Touché”, she’s still laughing. “The name’s Y/N.”
“Lovely name for a lovely voice,” he says softly. “I’m Roger.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Roger.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N.”
There’s a small pause and it would be the perfect moment to hang up but neither seem to want to.
“Well, now that we’re friends, want to share why you’re jetlagged?”
Roger laughs, bringing his free arm behind his neck, “I was in America.”
“Fancy!” She says with a laugh, “What were you doing across the pond?”
“I’m in a band and we were on tour.”
-----
What should have been a one-time thing evolved into something more.
Roger and Y/N find themselves speaking on the phone nearly every day, even when Roger left for tour again.
The first month, it was Roger that called every day. It had started because of a particularly rough day in the studio and remembering the kindness and care in Y/N’s voice, he decided that her friendly voice was what he needed to feel better.
When the second month rolled around, Y/N asked for a way to contact him if she was having a bad day.
And thus, the tradition was born.
It’s been six months now and every time the phone rings, Y/N can’t help the flutter of her heart or the smile on her face. Roger has somehow weaseled his way into her life and she couldn't be more grateful. He’s become her best friend, her confidant, someone she can trust blindly and who would always listen to her and have her back. She feels like she knows Roger better than the people she hands out with daily. They’ve opened up about their lives, their dreams and insecurities. Y/N knows that Roger wants to make it big but he’s afraid that the drugs, the booze and the sex may cloud his mind and stop him from living his dream. He shares how much he loves his band mates but how they tend to get under his skin, especially when writing new music.
Y/N shares how she took over her mother’s bookstore while being an editor on the side to make ends meet. She opens up about her limited social interactions and how she feels like she’s a bit too clingy and overbearing.
They talk about their childhoods and what they do to relax.
The two of them understand each other in such a deep, soulful way that should scare her but only gives her a sense of calm.
Y/N has even come up with a sort of table to help keep on top of the time difference when Roger is traveling. She glances quickly at the alarm next to her bed and is excited to see that Roger should be calling her in a few minutes.
She makes sure her tea is still warm as she fluffs her pillows, settling down on the bed while tucking herself into the blankets. She waits impatiently for the phone to ring and when it finally does, she grins brightly.
“Hello there, rockstar!”
It only takes hearing his voice to know that something is up. “What did they do this time?”
“Who says they did anything?” Roger knows he’s pouting and that his tone is a clear indication that his band mates did indeed do something wrong, but he doesn’t feel ready or willing to talk about it.
“Rog, please don’t.”
They’d done this before: one of them – usually Roger – is in a mood and takes it out of the other, making everyone involved feel like shit by the end of the call. Y/N isn’t sure if she has the energy for it today but has never and will never be truly able to ignore Roger when he’s clearly upset about something.
“I know something is bothering you and I’m almost certain it has something to do with your mates since you were fine before leaving for rehearsal.” There’s a brief pause and Y/n adds softly, “I worry about you.”
Roger sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m fine.” He knows he’s being a bit too short with her and that nothing was her fault, but he can’t really help it. He doesn’t want to deal with it.
“Rog…I…” her mind can’t seem to form the right words to explain the thoughts running through it. She’s well aware of his temper and how it flares up around his mates; how he likes loads of sugar; how he can’t see without his glasses but still refuses to wear them.
Y/N knows that this time, something is different but she can’t really explain why or how without admitting that she feels more than friendship towards the drummer. And she isn’t ready just yet to wear her heart on her sleeve just yet.
She ends up settling for the next best thing. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, I understand. But please, don’t lie to me. I know something is up and I will never force you talk about it.”
Roger sighs in relief, some of his anger evaporation as he finds himself smiling “Thank you. How was your day?”
It’s at times like this, with Y/N talking happily about her day, rambling on and on about things he doesn’t quite understand and people he doesn’t know that he questions how he got so lucky to have gotten a random number that led to having this amazing girl in his life.
“I still can’t believe that no one except Peter Pan warned me about how much it sucksbeing a grown up,” Roger can tell she’s pouting and it makes him laugh.
The laughter however is cut short when she tries asking about his day and the previous night’s concert. “I’m in a rock band. It goes as well as rock concert goes.”
Y/N blinks, surprised by the venom suddenly lacing his tone. “What kind of answer is that?” She tries to keep her tone neutral, not letting it show how affected she is.
“The one I’m giving you.”
They may have been talking for six months but she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to keep up or understand his mood swings. “Why are you taking your shit out on me?! What’s your problem?!”
As understanding as she may be, Y/N has never had much patience for people taking their anger out on innocent bystanders, who just happen to be at the right place for the wrong time.
“You’re my fucking problem!” Roger snaps, voicing raising as he continues, “You ask all these fucking questions and pester me worse than my mother ever has. You’re not her. You’re not even my girlfriend. You’re a stranger that just doesn’t know when to let go.” His chest is heaving as he sits forward on his bed, empty hand curled into a fist. “God, we haven’t even met are you’re already so fucking clingy –”
With tears in her eyes, Y/N hangs up the phone. She tries reasoning with herself. She knows he’s upset, that something got him in this horrible mood but she has nothing to do with that. He’s hurt and wants to hurt others around him and he did succeed, if you ask Y/N. He’d said the one thing that he knew would absolutely shake her confidence and make her feel like garbage. They’d talked about it, multiple times. Roger had even reassured her at every turn that she was absolutely not clingy and that he loved every second they got to spend on the phone together.
He'll apologize when he feels better.
He values you.
You’re his friend.
Y/N keeps repeating these mantras over and over again as she stands on shaky legs, heading towards her small bathroom.
The phone starts ringing but she ignores it. She lets the tears fall, turning on the faucet and splashing some cold water on her face. The phone stops ringing, just to pick up again a few seconds later, confirming her suspicion that it’s Roger trying to get hold of her.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly makes her way back to her bed, sipping on the now lukewarm cup of tea. She glares at the ringing phone, wanting Roger to feel what she’s feeling, even just a bit.
Almost thirty minutes go by before she feels as if she’s got her emotions under control and is ready to speak to Roger, who hasn’t stopped calling since she hung up.
With a deep breath, she closes her eyes and picks up the phone, placing the receiver against her ear.
“I’m so sorry, love!” Roger’s voice floods her system as he stumbles over his words. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Or, I mean I shouldn’t… it isn’t…”
He takes a stuttering breath, collecting himself before he attempts to explain himself again. “You had nothing to do with my shit mood and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m so very sorry. I didn’t mean anything that I said, I just knew that those were things that would hurt you and it isn’t an excuse and I understand if you’re angry and don’t want to talk to me for a while but please know that I am extremely sorry and that I will do whatever I need to for you to forgive me and I’m such an ass. I’m so fucking sorry Y/N. I’ll make it up to you, I swear!”
“Will you now?” He can tell that’s she trying to be upbeat and wants to make him feel better but that isn’t her job. Not this time.
“I swear it, Y/N. On my drumming career. I won’t ever hurt you like this again and whatever you need me to do to get your forgiveness, I will do it. Name your price. Whatever you want, it’s yours. I s–”
“Really? Absolutely anything?”
Roger nods and realising she can’t seem him, he vocalizes his answer.
“Even if I asked you to rob a bank?”
He laughs, tears of joy springing to his eyes. “Just tell me which one.”
The line goes quiet for a few seconds but Roger’s guilt crawls up his throat. “I really am so extremely sorry, Y/N.”
“I know. I forgive you,” her voice is so soft, full of kindness he doesn’t deserve and his heart does some funky fluttering in his chest.
Roger’s shoulders lose their tension as he melts into the hotel mattress. Knowing she isn’t to upset with him and that they’ll be able to jump back from this soothes his fears of losing her. He’s not sure he’d ever be able to get over it if it were to happen.
“I’m sorry too,” she whispers and he can hear how upset she is and if he could transport himself to London to sooth all her fears with a hug he would. His urge to book the first flight out is almost uncontrollable. “I didn't mean to make you feel like I was pushing you to talk about something you didn't want to. I just worry about you, and I can't do anything if not ask what's wrong.”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for love.” He shakes his head, clenching his hand against the comforter. Never before has he felt such a strong urge to hold a girl in his arms. His voice grows softer as he smiles gently, wishing her could be by her side. “You were just...just being a good friend. I should have seen that instead of the inside of my own ass.”
Y/N hums noncommittally. When she speaks again, her voice is a bit uncertain but sympathetic, “You've had a bloody terrible day, haven't you?”
“It wasn't exactly one for the books.” Roger can’t help the twinge of anger that laces his tone. He really doesn’t want to get into it, knowing full well he won’t be able to control his temper if he does.
“You're also tired.” It’s not a question. She knows. She always knows.
Roger smiles sadly, heart swelling in affection for the girl on the other side of the line “Yeah, I am.”
She sighs, frowning as she doesn’t want to let him go but knowing that he needs his rest “I should probably let you rest.”
“Please don't hang up.”
It’s Y/N heart’s turn to beat erratically as she grins ear to ear when she realizes that he cares for her as much as she does for him. “Okay.”
“Just for a little while, please.”
His voice is a whisper and she answer in the same tone, “As long as you want, rockstar.”
Roger lets his eyes drift shut, rolling onto his side as he holds the receiver tightly in his hands so he won’t accidentally drop it. He could never seem to get enough of her and he doesn’t even know what she looks like yet. What will happen when they finally meet? One thing he knows for sure is that he won’t be able to keep his hands to himself.
“I’d do just about anything to be with you right now”
Had he not been holding the phone tightly against his head, Roger would have missed it. She had spoken so softly, lovingly.
The blond smiles. “Really? Anything?”
She hums, fanning her heated cheeks as she thanks her lucky stars that he can’t see her. She hadn’t expected those words to slip out of her moth but they’ve been talking for so long and they’d just had their first fight.
“I'd swim across the bloody ocean if I could.” He means so much to her that she really would do anything to cross the distance separating them.
Roger blushes, eyes bright and cheeks hurting because of his blinding smile. She makes him so giddy, “All that work just for me?”
Y/N feels her cheek warming up even more, “You’re worth it.” She wonders how he doesn’t realize just how much he means to her or that she would do anything for him.
He hums to himself, grin never faltering as his minds comes up with all these different scenarios he’d love to make come true. Y/N laughs, almost as if she can read his mind, prompting him to ask what caused his favourite sound of the world.
“I think you might actually like me when we finally meet,” she admits finally, still laughing and it really is the best sound to ever reach his ears.
He feels a blush start to spread across his face as he realizes exactly what she said. Never being one to censor himself, he decides to push their carefully set boundaries. “You know, I sometimes imagine you’re here with me sometimes.”
“Yeah?” her laughter, just like her breath, is cut off abruptly. This is certainly not the turn she thought the conversation would be taking.
The drummer hums his assent, turning so he’s laying on his back, eyes locked on the ceiling as he imagines the girl of his dreams in bed next to him. “Yeah. I don't even have a picture of you in my head or anything...I know it doesn't make sense but –”
“No, it does!” She reassures. She never wants him to think that she doesn’t understand what was going through his mind.
He smiles, “Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“What would you do if you were with me, right now?” because he knows exactly what he wishes they could be doing but he needs her to want and imagine the same thing.
“Why?” She has to put a hand over her mouth to stop the squealing his question brought to her lips. Why he makes her feel like a twelve-year-old girl with her first crush is beyond her but she wouldn’t give up this feeling for anything in the world.
“I don't know. It helps me picture you.”
She’s quiet for a second as she thinks over how much she’s willing to say out loud. “I'd make you tea...probably make sure you were all cozy, with plenty of blankets and pillows and the works. You deserve to be pampered.”
No one has ever cared about him as much as she does.
“Then what?” He’s aware he’s being greedy, but he can’t seem to help it.
YN swallows thickly, nervous as she forces herself to talk openly “I'd climb into bed with you. Hold you really close to me. I'd run my fingers through your hair –”
Roger moans, low and almost imperceptibly, at the thought. YN giggles, though she feels a warm ache forming below her stomach when she hears the sound. “You’d like that, huh?”
“Fuck yes.” His voice is hoarse and tired and it really isn’t doing much to help the situation between her legs. Y/N shifts on the bed, clenching her thighs while trying to concentrate on anything but the grovelling and sensual sound of his voice.
“What else?” He wants the conversation to take a specific turn but he’s beginning to get extremely drowsy and his voice betrays that.
Y/N smiles at the sudden sleepiness in his tone and her mouth goes dries as she tells him what has been on her mind for at least a few weeks now, maybe more. “I think...I think then I might have to kiss you, Rog.”
The line is strangely quiet and for a moment, she thinks she’s taken things too far and has completely misread the situation.
Roger gives a dopey, sleepy smile, hope filling his chest with a warm feeling. His voice is nearly a whisper in the receiver, “Where would you kiss me?”
She chokes back a sob, relief flooding her system as he doesn’t seem to mind the idea of her kissing him. In fact, she realizes with a start, he’s egging her on. “Maybe your shoulders...or your tummy.”
Roger hums wantonly into the phone as his mind conjures up the images she’s barely describing.
“Where would you want me to kiss you, Rog?”
The question is enough to wake him up. Roger groans, his voice huskier than a few moments ago “I can think of a few places.”
Y/N blushes, stuttering while trying to come up with a response while getting far too hot under the collar for her own good. Just as she’s opening her mouth, she hears a knock sounding through the phone.
Roger barely manages to hold back an angry curse as he gets up to open the hotel door, receiver still held against the side of his face. When he sees Brian, he rolls his eyes, “What do you want?”
Brian flinches at his friend's tone, holding up a tray of food as he grumbles “Fred wants to make sure you eat something before going to sleep.”
“Thanks, but I'm not hungry!” he responds before closing the door in the guitarist's face. He hears a faint mumble of "Whatever" as Brian heads back to his own room.
“Y/N –” he speaks, hoping against all odds that the mood hasn’t been completely lost. He needs to know what her answer is. Does she want to do to him all the things he wants to do to her?
“You should get some sleep, Rog.”
Roger wants to punch Brian for ruining what could have been the best night of his life so far. He was so close to getting somewhere with this amazing girl and that twat ruined his mood once again. He clears his throat, trying to not let tears of frustration gather in his eyes. “Y-Yeah...Yeah. You're right. I'll call you when I wake up?”
Y/N smiles warmly, quickly drying the single tear that had fallen at their lost moment, “I'll be here.”
Roger's chest buzzes. He whispers a faint 'Sweet dreams love' and waits for her reply before hanging up. He sighs, arm over his eyes.
One day, that girl will be his and he will be hers.
—————----------------------------------
“So” her friend drags out the ‘o’, looking at Y/N with pursed lips, “You like him.”
Y/N rolls her eyes, bringing the fuming cup of tea to her lips. She knows she’s just buying herself a few seconds as she debates how to actually address this whole thing. She knew she’d regret telling her best friend about Roger and their unorthodox friendship – or is it a relationship? Y/N shakes her head, aware of the piercing stare locked on her. She also knew that talking to Winnie would be a double-edge sword but she really needs to talk to someone about this whole Roger thing, just to make sure that it isn’t all in her head and that he too feels something for her. And to make sure it isn’t just some fever dream her mind has conjured in answer to her stress levels being through the roof.
It's been over a year since their first conversation. Roger has travelled the world and made his way back to England just to leave again but they had yet to meet. Y/N is starting to think that he might be ashamed of her. That, or he’s hiding who he really is.
“So what if I do?” Her cheeks start to colour as she avoids looking at the person across from her.
Winnie scoffs, shaking her heard “It's worse than I thought.”
Y/N's jaw drops at the remark, chest feeling a bit tight. “What do you mean by that?”
Winnie rolls her eyes, “I haven't seen you blush this much since...Well, I've actually never seen you blush this much. You've gone completely pink.”
Y/N's eyes fall to the table. She can feel her cheeks growing even pinker and hates her friend for being right.
“Y/N/N…” Winnie says with a frown, “I've got to be honest, here. I don't like it. At all.”
Y/N’s heart sinks. She never thought her friend wouldn’t approve of Roger and the words are like a knife to the chest. Sure, she knew that Winnie would be a bit skeptical but she never thought she’d be so against the idea of Roger. “W-Why not?”
Winnie doesn’t want to be harsh or hurt Y/N in any way but she also doesn’t want her best friend to get her hopes up and then her heart broken by a complete stranger. She reaches her hand across to the table and covers her friend’s. “Y/N… Just think about it rationally for a moment. The bloke calls you in the dead of night. You have no idea where he got your number or who he is and he's already trying to get in your pants –” Y/N opens her mouth to argue but Winnie talks over her. “How do you know he's not 70, huh? He could be anyone, Y/N. He could be your dad, for Christ’s sake!”
YN cringes, holding her head in her hand as she rubbed her temples. She feels utterly defeated. And a bit naïve. Even if she explains every detail to Winnie, she wouldn’t understand.
Winnie sighs, “What if he's got nothing to offer?”
Y/N clenches her jaw, anger boiling in the pit of her stomach. She knows it isn’t fair to be mad at Winnie. That her friend is only trying to look out for her. Still, she feels the urge to protect Roger and their whatever-this-is. “When has that ever been a problem for me? And that's just it, Win. He does...He offers me so much every day and he never expects anything back. He's kind to me...and he's silly and warm and sweet and–”
Winnie's expression softens as she sees the tears burning in Y/N's eyes as she takes Y/N's hands in hers again. However, she doesn’t back down, “You don't even know his last name.”
Y/N sniffles, refusing to let a single tear roll down her face. She takes a deep breath. “I don't really see where the problem is in that.” Winnie's brows knit together and Y/N crosses her arms, “He doesn't know my last name, either. It's not like I'm asking him for anything, Win. He's just great to talk to. He's kind and funny.... he’s smart. Wickedly smart, but he doesn't know it.” Y/N laughs breathlessly, getting lost in her memories of all their conversations. “Acts like this tough, careless thing sometimes but he's so soft on the inside. So good to me. He has the sweetest little laugh, too...gets all croaky when he's tired.”
Winnie squeezes Y/N's hand comfortingly, giving her a sympathetic smile. Realizing that nothing she says is going to change Y/N’s mind, she says softly “Just take care of yourself. That's all I ask.”
Y/N’s responding smile is as bright as the sun, “He's good. I know it. I can feel it. I’m going to be fine as long as I have him.”
“I hope so for you, darling. You deserve some happiness.”
Y/N takes another deep breath, reaching for her cup of tea.
Winnie grins too, “Just know that if he hurts you, I'll have his head. I don't care how old he turns out to be.”
Y/N laughs, rolling her eyes. “Thank fuck I know you've got my back, Win.”
---------------------
Roger is so lost in his thoughts that when John sits down beside him on the small sofa of the tour bus, he flinches, knocking over his beer. John laughs at him, passing him a dirty shirt from the floor to help clean the mess. Roger mumbles a quick "thanks mate" before trying to dry the small table.
“You okay mate?” Brian asks from his spot at the table. The guitarist is barely paying attention to his game of Scrabble with Freddie. For the past few days, he had been paying closer attention to his best friend because something is definitely off. He can’t put his finger on what but he sure as hell is going to find out.
“‘Course I am. Why'd you ask?” Roger is now working on the stain on his trouser, not really listening to his band mates.
Freddie frowns, waiting for Brian to place his next tile and nudges him with a foot under the table to get his attention. When Brian keeps ignoring him, the singer exchanges a quick glance with the bass player, both of them confused about what’s happening.
Brian shrugs, trying to act nonchalant and failing, “You've been acting weird lately.”
Roger's head whips up, eyes zeroing in on the guitarist “What'd you mean?” his tone came out too suspicious and the drummer has a feeling he knows exactly where this conversation was headed.
“You've been extremely well-behaved lately and you spend most of your time holed up in your hotel rooms. What's going on?” Brian decides that beating around the bush wasn’t going to work with the blond.
Roger rolls his eyes, doing his best to hide the smile threating to pull his lips up as he tries to dissuade his friends from asking too many questions or giving them more reasons to be concerned about him. “’S just talking to a friend. No need to get your panties in a twist, old chap.”
“A friend?” Freddie's amused and now feels the need to be part of this conversation, especially if it makes Roger a bit uncomfortable.
The drummer shrugs, his ears going pink as Brian rolled his eyes, already tired of vague answers. “What friend?”
Roger keeps himself busy by wiping the now fully absorbed beer from his pants. “Just a friend.”
John chuckles when he notices how much the lack of tangible information is bother Brian.
“You don't have friends that we don't know!” the guitarist points out.
Roger rolls his eyes, head falling backwards as he drops the shirt to the ground “I do too! We don't do everything together Brian.”
“What's her name, Rog?” Freddie decides to cut to the chase, use to seeing through all of Roger’s bullshit.
The drummer sighs, knowing that the more he tries to get out of this conversation, the more they will pry. He mumbles, “Y/N”
John smiles as Freddie's lights up like a child on Christmas morning. The singer sits forward and leans into the drummer’s line of sight. “And where did you happen upon this friend, hm?”
Roger's cheeks grow pink. He can’t and won’t even try to stifle the pleased smile forming on his lips. Brian’s face pinches in confusion: he's never seen Roger like this in his life. Roger hates when people get all warm and mushy; he always crinkles his nose up with displeasure when John rambles on about Veronica, and yet, here he is, looking as if he’s about to do the same thing.
“If I’m completely honest, I haven't exactly met her in person. Yet.” He confesses sheepishly.
Fred raises his eyebrows, the conversation already taking a turn he didn't expect. “Pardon?”
Roger sighs, rubbing his face as he tries to explain the whole situation as best he can. “We kind of met by accident. Before leaving for tour, I was talking to a girl in a pub back home and well... she gave me a fake number that turned out to be Y/N's.”
John nods, intrigued by the blond's story, “Is it safe to assume you called the number?”
“Yeah.” Roger grins, “Wasn't the bird from the pub, obviously. The girl on the line didn't have any clue who I was. She was pissed, to be honest.” Roger laughs thinking back to the night they met. “She's from London and with the fact that she hadn’t been out and about that night, I accidentally woke her up at one thirty in the morning. She put me in my place for it, too. We started talking after that, I guess.”
Deacy is happy to see his friend so smitten. “How long have you been talking?”
Roger takes a sip of someone's drink, stopping to think. “About a year, I reckon. Maybe a bit more.”
Brian chokes on his own saliva. “A year!? Really?” He looks to the other boys, and even John has his brows raised in surprise.
Roger looks confused, “What?”
“Rog, I don't think I've ever seen you talk to any girl for more than a few hours.” The bass player is quick to point out. “And even when you do, it’s because they’re a good shag.”
Roger frowns, a bit hurt by the comment. He knows he’s never had a serious relationship and that he loves sex but he isn’t some emotionless sex fiend. He is capable of being committed and in a monogamous relationship. He’s just never had the right motivation before. “Tt's not like that.”
Fred smirks, “So you're saying she’s just a friend?”
Roger stutters for a second before falling silent, his face going warmer. “I just… I think she's nice, and easy to talk to.” He knew he wouldn't be able to explain their bond eloquently enough for them to truly understand. It’s more that simple attraction or wanting a relationship. There’s something about Y/N and their bond that he will never be able to explain.
“You realize you broke up with Jo so you could spend more time with your drums? Rog, you're not exactly fantastic at commitment.” Brian feels the need to point out.
Roger’s heart sinks at the lack of support from his friends and wishes he hadn’t let any of this slip. “She's important to me, whether you understand us or not. I want to fly her out here so we can meet –”
Brian scoffs, arms crossing over his chest “You sure she's not just trying to sneak her hands in your pockets, mate?”
Roger is stunned into silence and his temper flares. “What?!”
“How can you be sure that she's not just trying to make a few bucks off you? We make good money now, Rog. People know that.” Again, Brian is pointing something out as if it’s the most obvious reason in the world for a girl to talk with him for so long. Why else would a girl want to spent a whole twelve months speaking to Roger, right?
Roger doesn’t even know where to start or how to respond. The fact that Brian would even imply that YN would ever think about doing something like that is infuriation.
“There are plenty of smart girls out there, mate.” The guitarist carries on, oblivious to the turmoil going through the drummer’s mind. “You've got a keep an eye out for the ones sniffing out gold –”
Roger sees red. “Don't fucking dare finish that sentence, Brian.”
The guitarist rolls his eyes, unimpressed by the drummer's outburst. “All I'm saying is you ought to be careful.”
“I know you think you're smarter than the rest of us but I'm perfectly capable of handling myself.”
Freddie rubs his temples exasperatedly, knowing that this is not going to be the end of the conversation and it’s going to end poorly for all parties involved.
“Roger, you're letting yourself fall in love with this girl and you don’t even know her! She's a complete stranger!” Brian raises his voice, “You've never bloody met her!”
“Fuck off, Brian. You have no fucking idea what or who you're talking about.” Roger slams the bottle against the table and storms off towards the back of the bus “Leave me the fuck alone for the rest of the day.”
----------------------------------
Roger’s eyes blink open as soon as he registers the phone in his hotel room starts ringing. He scrambles for the receiver, nearly falling off the mattress in the process as the sheet tangle in his legs.
It's been nearly a fortnight since he's last spoken to Y/N. It seems the two have less and less time as the summer months have rolled around. There are interviews to do, books to edit, concerts to play, shelves to stock. All their work seems to be never-ending.
“Y/N?” Roger chimes, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He knows that the likelihood of it being anyone else is nonexistent but he always likes to make sure she knows that she’s always his first thought.
“Hi, Rog.” She smiles to herself. Hearing his voice always makes her days better.
Relief washes over Roger's body at the sound of her voice. “God, I've missed you.” He admits, chest aching happily. “Missed you so much. Every day. Fuck, you don't know how good it is to hear your voice.” Roger relaxes against his pillow, playing with the phone chord as his eyes close blissfully.
Tears well in Y/N’s eyes as she tries swallowing around the knot lodged in her throat. “I’ve missed you too, Rog.”
Roger's brow furrow. Her voice’s hoarse, as if she’s been crying. And tired. Immediately he can tell that something’s wrong but he tries clearing the thought from his head, trusting that she would tell him anything she wanted him to know.
“Had a dream about you last night.” He mumbles, smiling at the memory as he tries to make her smile. “I can't remember what you looked like in the dream but it couldn’t have been anyone but you. It felt like you.”
She smiles against the speaker.
Roger eyes furrow as he tries to recall if they’ve ever shared physical details of each other. He knows they’ve shared what’s in their hearts and minds but never have they spoken about what they look like. He needs to know. “How tall are you?”
Y/N doesn’t answer and Roger's worry comes back stronger than before. “Y/N?”
“Hm? What was that Rog?”
The drummer doesn’t like how tired she sounds. They’ve had had their share of bad conversations but she’s never ignored or not answered one of his questions. “How tall are you?”
“Oh... uhm... I guess /your height/.”
It took her too long to answer. Roger bites his lower lip before sighing, knowing that the only way for him to feel better is knowing that she’s okay. “There's something wrong.”
Y/N pauses, finally fully present in the conversation. Her heart beats a bit too quickly in her chest. “W-What?”
“You're not acting like yourself. Something's wrong.” Roger hates how certain of this he is.
She goes silent while trying to hold it all back, but it’s no use. Her face crumbles as she lets out a sob against the receiver. Calling him had been the best and worse decision she made today.
Roger's heart feels like it’s shattering as he fights helplessly to calm her from oceans away.
“Y/N...” He feels stuck. Someone he loves is sobbing and he’s a million miles away. “Y/N, my love, what’s wrong? What's happening?”
His mind is working a million miles a second. It’s been so long since they last spoke, that there are hundreds of things that could have happened. Is she hurt? Did someone she know get hurt? Has the press somehow found out about their conversations and been harassing her?
She chokes on her words, trying to explain as best as she could but her breathing is still too choppy and labored for her to be understandable.
Roger listens as she struggles to breathe and he doesn’t think he’s ever known fear before his moment. The sounds coming from the woman he loves sound painful and he wants nothing more than to hold her and soothe all her pain. “Y/N, my love, just breathe. Can you do that for me? Take deep breaths.” He does what he’s asking her to do so that she has something to mimic. “Just do what I am okay? I'm right here baby.” He keeps his breathing slow and steady, guiding hers until she settles. She wipes the tears from her cheeks, sniffling painfully. Roger wishes he could reach through the phone and scoop her up in his arms. He's trying to figure out how angry the boys – and the label – would be if he were to fly out to her for a few days.
“I had to fire them all.” She admits in a whisper.
His stomach drops, “Who love?”
“My employees... I couldn't pay them anymore.” She starts crying again, her voice breaking and he can barely make out the words tumbling from her lips.
Roger frowns, a thought he doesn’t like pushing to the front of his mind. “Who's been running the store when you aren't there?” Y/N cuts herself off abruptly and when she finally answers, he hates what he hears. “It's just been you. Oh, love, it's just been you all by yourself?”
Her sobs grow louder as Roger hushes her soothingly through the phone as he fights off his own tears. “Oh baby, I'm so sorry.”
“I-I didn't want to. I had to.” Y/N needs him to understand. She really has no other choice and she hates how powerless she is. She’s trying her best to ground herself but everything hurts.
“I know, sweetheart.” He reassures her, “They understand.”
“M-My landlord threatened to evict me and I've got no food in the pantry and I just didn't know what else to do.” She grabs her hair tightly as the pain in her chest increases.
Roger's throat tightens to the point where taking a breath is painful. “Why didn't you say anything, darling? I would have sent you mone–”
'No. No. I don't want to take money from you.” She states resolutely. “That's not fair and it’s not me. I will figure something out.”
He rolls his eyes at her stubbornness. “What's ‘not fair’ is that you're suffering, Y/N.” He pauses, “When's the last time you had a meal? Like, a whole meal, not just a snack.”
When doesn’t Y/N answer, Roger knows that it has been too long.
“I've been eating little things here and there.” She finally admits with a small, fearful voice, “I don't have time to sit and eat at work, anyway.”
“Y/N,” his tone doesn’t allow for any room for her not to answer, “when was the last time?”
She swallows thickly, “A week ago. I think.”
Roger feels like someone has punched him in the throat. His eyes burn as he fights off tears. Now is not the time for him to breakdown. He can do that once he knows she has some food in her system and she’s taken care of. He counts to five and takes a deep breath before speaking again. “Haven't been sleeping either, I bet. I can hear it in your voice. You're exhausted.”
Roger pauses and then add stubbornly, “I'm sending you money.”
Nothing she says is going to change his mind on this. She needs it, he has loads and he will never sit back and let her suffer when he can actively do something to make things easier for her.
“Roger, no.” She counters immediately, “Absolutely not!”
“Y/N, you need it! I want to help you. I need to help you. I need you to be safe and happy and healthy –”
“I can do it, Rog.” She guarantees, “I just need to work harder.”
She’s stubborn but so is he.
He sighs her name. Nothing he says will convince her to take the money. She’s too proud of that but there is nothing she can do to stop him from sending it anyway. Y/N doesn’t need to know until she gets it.
There is one thing that he can’t drop though. “Promise me, and I mean promise me you'll eat and you'll sleep. I want three meals a day and eight hours at night.” Y/N sighs, knowing that keeping that promise is going to be rough but Roger keeps speaking, “I know money is tight and it seems like it's hopeless right now but swear to me that you'll take care of yourself.”
Y/N's voice thickens as she whimpers pathetically. Never had she thought she’d be the kind of girl that needs a man to keep her together, but here she is. “I need you to hold me.”
Pain shoots through Roger's chest and this time, he can’t keep his emotions at bay. Hot tears roll down his cheeks as he tries to not sob too loudly. It hurts. It bloody hurts how badly he wants to be with her.
Roger moves the receiver away from his face, letting out a few sobs before he composes himself. He takes a deep, shuddering breath as his nose burns because of the tears he’s trying – and failing – to hold back. He does his best to keep his voice steady when he speaks to her again, “What if I fly out to you? Just for a few days. I could –”
Y/N’s tears start anew. “I want that, so badly but Rog, baby, you can’t. The tour –”
“To hell with the tour!” he says through gritted teeth, “I don’t care about the bloody tour! I care about you.”
Her breath catches in her throat. They’ve both tiptoed around their feelings, both making it clear that this is more than a simple friendship but never had either of them been so direct. It gives her hope and now, more than ever, she refuses to let him give up on his dream. She will get through this and knowing he’s willing to drop everything to help her is enough.
“I care about you too, Rog.” She admits softly, “But there are so many people counting on you. It’s your dream.”
“Maybe I have a new one” he mumbles. “Okay. If I can’t come to you then I can fly you out.” He needs to see her and make sure, with his own eyes, that she’s really doing better. He can’t lose her.
Y/N sighs wistfully, wanting nothing more than to accept his offer. “You know I can’t. Not right now, at least. The shop –”
Roger curses in frustration. “It’s not fair!”
“I know.”
Silence fills the line. Roger’s anger quickly dissipates and all he’s left with is unrelenting sadness. He feels so unlike himself; pitifiul and needy. He feels as if he needs Y/N more than he needs oxygen.
“Soon,” Roger’s voice breaks the silence, “Promise me. We’ll be together soon.”
Y/N smiles through the tears, “I promise.”
“And promise me you’ll eat and sleep. I need you to take care of yourself.”
“I promise, Rog. I will get as much sleep and food as I can stand.”
“Good.” He swallows thickly, “I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She lets out a wet laugh, “Good thing is you’ll never have to find out.”
Roger finally relaxes a bit, breathing deeply. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you out of my sights once we meet.”
“I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
---------------------------
Roger keeps his head down, with his visor of the baseball cap pulled down almost over his eyebrows as moves quickly through the city. He’s hoping that between his disguise and Queen still being relatively unknown in the US will help him avoid any run ins with the press. It had been hard enough leaving the hotel without being seen by his mates or any of the roadies. He really doesn’t need word of his morning excursion getting back to Brian.
With a grimace, Roger walks into the American branch of his bank and lines up to speak to a teller.
It takes longer than he would have liked to get all the documents set up and money withdrawn but Roger definitely feels lighter as he steps back out into the sunlit streets and heads to rehearsals. Luckily, he was careful enough that no one noticed his prolonged absence.
The green room is still empty when Roger enters, heading straight for the vanity against the opposite wall. Slipping off his hat, he removes all the bank documents from his back pocket and sits at the mirror. He slides the signed check and bills into the same envelope, setting it aside as he removes his jacket. He definitely feels a lot better knowing he’ll be able to help Y/N in a way that matters and that will make her life easier. It also helps that their conversations have returned to being a daily occurrence, helping him ensure that she is as well rested and fed as she can be. Although she’s doing much better with his support, Roger doesn’t miss the stressed tone or how her work load seems to be constantly growing.
Roger only wishes he had managed to get to a bank sooner though this way, since it’s been a bit over a month since he offered her the money, she shouldn’t suspect anything.
Roger digs around the vanity for a pen and when he finds none, he uses one of Freddie’s eye-pencils and a tissue to write a short message to his girl. He hesitates, casting a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure his friends aren’t going to barge in. He really doesn’t want to try explaining the money or check to them.
Roger sighs, mussing his hair as he tries to put pencil to tissue. There is so much he wants to say but he isn’t even sure where he should start. He knows that no matter what he says, she is going to rip into him so with a chuckle, he scribbles down one line before signing the tissues and placing it delicately inside the envelop with the money and check. He knows he’s doing the right thing, and even if she won’t happy about it, she’ll be grateful.
For once in his life, he’s grateful for his foresight of asking for her full name and address so that he could send small trinkets and post cards when calls aren’t enough.
“Morning, Rog.”
Roger nearly jumps out of the chair, quickly turning to see a confused looking John smiling at him, a cup of coffee in hand.
Roger exhales, laughing at his own reaction. “God, Deacy. You scared the living shit out of me. Didn’t hear you come in.”
John laughs too before sipping his coffee as he takes a seat on the couch. Roger turns back to the envelope, hiding it under his arm.
“Didn’t see you at breakfast this morning, I though you’d still be in bed.” John chimes, brow quirked.
Roger clears his throat, avoiding eye contact. “Just had to um...run some errands is all.”
John nods though he clearly doesn’t believe him. “What are you doing here so early?” The drummer desperately wants to change the subject before he gives himself away.
John shrugs, smiling “I tend to get here early to help the roadies with the amps. I built most of them from older models that'd been trashed so they can be a bit finicky.”
Roger hums in understanding, slipping the envelope into the pocket of his jeans as Brian and Freddie waltz in. The drummer nods at both, fighting back a yawn.
“Sleep well?” Freddie asks with a smirk.
“Not well enough.” Admits Roger, standing from his chair and lazily making his way over to the costume rack. He doesn’t notice the envelop slipping from his pocket when he bends down to look for his converse. Roger curses under his breath, “I’m going to see if I can track down my trainers. I could’ve sworn I left them here yesterday.”
Brian quirks his brow curiously as the drummer trots out the door, stepping forward to snatch the envelope off the ground. Freddie cranes on his tip toes to peek over his shoulder, curiosity lighting up his brown eyes, “What've you found?”
The envelope hasn’t been sealed yet so Brian doesn’t feel too guilty as he snoops. The guitarist runs his thumb over the hastily scrawled name and address, Y/N Y/L/N.
“What’s inside?” The singer asks, hoping it’s a love letter and that he can take the piss out of the usually emotionally constipated drummer.
Brian pulls back the flap of the envelop and frowns when he notices that there’s cash inside. He moves toward the couch where John is sat, quietly observing the situation as it unfolds. The guitarist clears off a small section of the coffee table and dumps the content of the envelop on it. A wad of cash falls with a small thud, as a tissue and slip of paper flutter down after it. He quickly counts the cash and his eye widen in shock. £500. And the piece of paper is a blank check that has been signed and dated with today’s date. The name on the check is the same of the envelop and it finally hits him: it’s the girl Roger had mentioned on the bus.
Don’t be too angry. R
Brian feels like his brain is going to explode. A blank cheque?! He’s sending her a blank cheque! Anger boils in his veins as he tries to comprehend how his best friend of years goes from dumbing his girlfriend of almost ten years in order to become a successful musician to blindly sending money and blank cheques to a complete stranger. Clearly, something has happened because not even Roger would be that stupid.
Brian grips the empty envelop tightly in his hand as Roger wanders back into the room, muttering about his missing shoes.
Brian walks up to Roger where he’s now lounging on the couch next to John and throws it at him. Roger eyes the envelop before his eyes fall to the coffee table.
The blond lets out a frustrated sigh, looking up into Brian's eyes. For this, his reaction angers Brian even more.
“Mind sharing with the group, Rog?” the curly-haired man asks condescendingly. “Mind explaining why your ‘friend’ who isn't taking advantage of you is getting direct deposits?!”
Roger does his best to swallow back all his annoyance, but apparently, Brian isn’t done digging into him. “A fucking blank cheque, Roger!? A blank cheque, really? Are you trying to get robbed?”
Roger can’t even get his explanation fully out of his mouth before Brian cuts him off. “She's lying, Roger! She's a con artist!”
“She's not!”
“And you're giving her exactly what she wants! She'll be laughing all the way to the bank!”
“SHUT UP!” Roger screams, raising to his feet and pushing Brian back. “You've all got spouses or children. I don't. I've got no one to take care of. Tell me what's so fucking criminal about sending some money to help someone I love.”
The three other people in the room are shocked into silence. Never before has the drummer tossed around the l-word so easily. Roger picks up the money and the check from the table, carefully tucking it back into the envelope and smoothing it out.
Roger heads for the door, turning to look back at the group one last time before he leaves.
“If you need me, I'll be buying stamps.”
--------------------------------------------------------
“What the fuck, Taylor!?'
Roger chuckles into the receiver. “Well, hello to you too, darling.” He had been waiting for this call for about a week.
“Do not ‘darling’ me right now. I told you not to send money!” Y/N has rarely experienced such a mix of emotions. Anger, love, humiliation, sadness, helplessness, love. She whines into the phone, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. “Why didn't you listen? I'm not a charity case!” She hates feeling like a burden.
Most of all, she hates how loved and better she felt when she opened the envelope.
The blond frowns. It was never his intention to upset her, “Love, I –”
“Don’t you dare use your pet names on me right now, Roger Taylor!'’ Roger tries to hold back his laughter.
“I told you I can do this on my own!” she explodes, “I am perfectly capable of handling –”
“Oh, trust me, I know you are.” He interrupts. Roger toys with the phone chord, blowing some of his bangs away from his face. “You could run circles around me, darling. Just because you're able to do it on your own doesn't mean you have to.” He smiled softly to himself, “You don’t have to do everything on your own anymore. I can't physically be there for you, and I hate that. If it were up to me, I'd be stopping by the store to bring you food or help lug books around.” Y/N exhales, hand running through her hair. God-damnit. Why does he have to be so bloody perfect and far away? “And as much as I wish I could change it, I know I can't be there right now to hold you and promise it will all get better.”
“Rog–” There’s so much she needs to tell him.
“Let me do this, Y/N.” He begs, “Just this one thing to help you keep a roof over your head and eat and take care of yourself.”
Y/N gives up all hope of arguing with him about this. And just like that, she’s crying for a completely different reason. Her voice wobbles as she sobs into the phone, “You're so stupid, Roger. You're such a goddamn idiot.”
He laughs as he too starts crying, smiling lovingly to the empty room. “I thought we’d already established that.” She gives a breathy laugh, clutching the money and cheque to her chest like a security blanket. “Hasn't ever kept you from talking to me before, though.”
Y/N wipes her tears with her shirt sleeve, sniffling pitifully. She knows she’s never felt love like this before and she never will again. Not even her parents had shown interest in supporting her; she never thought any less of them because of that.
But here’s Roger. Sweet, stupid Roger forking over hundreds of pounds and sending it to her from worlds away without batting an eyelash. All because he wants to help in any way he can. She can hear him as he rambles on, still trying explain how it “really isn’t a big deal".
“Roger–” her voice’s is so soft that he misses it completely.
“–I just care about you and I wanted to help and–”
“Roger!” She yells with a laugh.
He stops, eyebrows quirking as he smiled. He hears her take a deep breath and waits impatiently for her to speak.
Y/N’s heart is beating like a hummingbird's. “I love you.”
“What?” Roger feels completely frozen until she repeats those three beautiful words to him.
There’s another long silence and panic set in YN's stomach as she bites her lip. She really doesn’t want to pressure him into saying it so it’s her turn to start rambling, “I'm not just saying that because of the money and I don't expect you to say it back but I just needed you to know because it’s true and –”
“I love you too.” He interrupts her panicked mumbles.
Y/N's whole body relaxes. She exhales, hands shakily holding the phone as she lets out a watery, “Thank Christ” that makes Roger laugh.
“God, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you so fucking much.” Now that he can say it aloud, he doesn’t think he'll ever be able to stop.
Tears well in Y/N's eyes again, “I...I want you, Roger. I want you here.” She sounds selfish but she doesn’t care.
This is the moment she’s been waiting for. Now that it’s out in the open, she needs to see him, feel his body against hers. She wants to show him exactly how much she loves him.
His heart aches, “I know, my love. You have no fucking idea how much I want to be with you right now. Fuck, I'd fly out to you right this second if I knew you'd actually let me.”
Y/N chuckles, sniffling “It's really tempting.”
He grins, “Tempting enough to let me?”
She shakes her head, “I can't be the one to deprive the world of Roger Taylor. I know how that feels and it's too damn painful.”
He sighs, shaking his head. “Why can't you just be selfish once in a while?”
“I'm afraid I'm not as strong headed as my rockstar boyfriend.”
Roger smiles brighter than the sun, face red and heart full at her words. “Boyfriend, huh? I like the sounds of that.”
“Do you now?”
His smile seems to grow, “Love it, actually. 'Specially hearin' it from my girlfriend.”
Y/N giggles, loving his ability to make everything better with just a few, simple words. “Be careful saying that in front of all your groupies, might break their hearts.”
Roger scoffs, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Groupies!? Who do you think I am?” Y/N laughs and it’s his favourite sound in the world “You're the only groupie I've got, darling. Take you with me everywhere.”
“That's my official title then?” She jokes, “Resident Groupie?”
“Yes. And it's a paid position so you have to accept the money I sent.”
Y/N gasps, grin on her lips “You absolute wanker!”
“You love me, really.”
Her smile softens, “I really do.”
---------------------------------
Roger's shoulders and hands ached as he plops down on his hotel bed. He winces at the contact between the sheets and the raw skin of his worn hands, biting his lower lip as he reaches for the phone. Hearing his girlfriend's voice always make it all worth it.
The line rings more times than Roger is used to and a very bad feeling sinks in his gut. Even more concerning is the fact that he goes to voice mail. The drummer frowns, setting the receiver back on the base before lifting and dialing again. Still no response. He tries a third time. Nothing.
Finally, on his fourth try, YN answers the line and relief washes over him.
“Hey, Rog.”
“Oh, thank god! I thought something had happened to –” He freezes, heart dropping when he realizes that she’s crying. “What's wrong my love?”
Y/N sniffles, hating herself for being the girl that cries at the sound of her boyfriend’s voice. She isn’t even sure what to do. If she tells Roger that his best friend called her and said she was a gold-digging whore, he’ll react rashly and she isn’t there to stop him from doing too much damage to the band or himself. On the other hand, these phone calls are all they have. Honestly is important, they both said so from day one and fuck, they’re in a relationship for crying out loud. She knows Roger loves her. He’s proven it more than enough times. It’s just that… If his best friend, the people he spends every waking moment with think that of her, maybe it’s because he’s said something. And she’s sure it isn’t only Brian thinking those things. They couldn’t have come to that conclusion on their own. Could they?
“Is it work? Did something happen?”
“No...” She hums, trying to gather herself. She’s not going to tell him.
Roger frowns, worry clawing at his chest. She isn’t tired of him, is she? “Talk to me, love. Please.”
His plea breaks some of her resolution and she fights hard to not start sobbing. She’s sick of crying every time they call. “It's nothing, just having a rough day.”
“No, it isn't.” Roger insists, brow furrowed determinedly. Something is gnawing at him to not trust her words.
Y/N swallows, mind running in circles. “Rog…You know I'd never lie to you, right? I'd never do anything to hurt you.”
Roger blinks in confusion, “Of course I do, sweetheart. Where's all this coming from?”
“Nowhere.” She lies, “I just want to make sure you know how much I love you.” She hesitates a moment. “Promise me you understand that, though. That when I talk to you...I'm never trying to get anything out of you. I'm not...digging for gold.”
Alarm bells ring loudly in Roger's head. Brian. Fucking Brian. “Did Brian call you?”
“No.” She answers too quickly.
“Brian called you, didn't he?” Roger is beyond furious as his voice raises along with the anger in his chest. “He called you and ran his fucking mouth, as he always does and hurt you. The fucking arse can’t accept that he’s not the smartest person in the room and wants to ruin everyone’s happiness because he’s a miserable bastard. Once I get my hands on him, I –”
Y/N sobs, “Don't fight with him! Please, don't. He was only trying to protect y– ”
Roger slams the receiver against the base, fists clenching as he tears through his door and down the hall towards the conference room turned music room, where he knows the lads are still rehearsing. He’ll apologize later to Y/N but right now, he needs to not be talked down. Brian deserves everything coming his way.
Roger slams the door open and as soon as he’s face-to-face with the guitarist, Roger punches him in the face.
Brian stumbles backwards as Roger keeps shoving his chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! What in the absolute fuck is wrong with you?!”
Brian's eyebrows furrow as he catches his balance, still trying to keep Roger at bay as he massages his sore jaw.
Roger's face is red, rage clear as day in his blue eyes as he spats his words at Brian, Freddie putting himself in the middle of the two. “Somehow, by the grace of fucking god, I'm happy for the first time in my miserable goddamn life and you have to go and try to fuck it up!” Tears welling in his eyes, Roger shoves his kit to the ground, cymbals crashing as pieces of set scattered across the floor. Freddie is grateful that it was just the four of them in the room, though the ruckus is sure to gather unwanted attention.
Brian rubs his bruising jaw, rolling his eyes at Roger's reaction. “I did it for your own bloody good, Roger! She was just going to keep leeching off you –”
“I don't fucking care, Brian!” Roger kicks his bass drum, foot going through the decal of his own face as he shoves Freddie away. “I don't fucking need it! I don't need any of it!”
Brian's eyes fall to his shoes as guilt filled his gut. Maybe he had been too rash and cruel. Maybe he should've given Y/N a chance to explain herself.
“What am I going to buy with all this money you've saved me, huh? Cars? Drugs?” Brian opens his mouth to argue but Roger cuts him off. “I love her, Brian! I don't care if she takes every fucking cent I have!”
Brian scoffs, guilt quickly being replaced by frustration at how idiotic his friend is acting. “Do you hear yourself? You've never met this person, Roger! You're being ridiculous! You're asking to get your heart broken!”
“I'm fucking grown, Brian! I can handle myself, you condescending prick! She's all I've got!”
The room goes eerily silent.
Brian clears his throat, pursing his lips. His voice is soft when he speaks again. “Since when don’t you have us?”
Roger stares right at Brian, daggers in his eyes. He scoffs sickly, “This? The band? The so-called friends that call up my girlfriend, making her cry and calling her a gold-digger?!” He gestures to the group, knowing that John and Freddie had done nothing to stop Brian from making the girl he loved question their whole relationship. “This is over. The second tour's finished, this is never happening again.”
Deacy knits his brows, “Roger–”
Roger takes a menacing step towards Brian, grabbing the front of his shirt in his tired and sore hands. “You ever speak to her again and I'll rip your fucking balls off.”
The blond turns from the group, retreating down the hall and back to his own room.
Brian, Freddie, and Deacy stand in shocked silence.
------------------------------------------------------------
Brian sighs as he raises his fist to knock on Roger's door. He feels bad. He really does. And he doesn’t want the band to break up because of a girl. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t still think Roger was acting like a mad man.
The guitarist hopes that the few hours he had left Roger to wallow in his self pity has been enough for the drummer to calm down and reconsider the whole quitting nonsense.
“No, Y/N! I won't! I won't forgive him.”
Brian freeze, dropping his hand to his side. Why on earth would Y/N be defending him? Brian rests his ear against Roger's door, curiosity itching beneath his skin. There’s a pause as Roger listens to Y/N's response.
“I understand that he was trying to look out for me. I get that, but I'm a grown fucking man, Y/N. He thinks he's the smartest person alive and I'm sick of it! I could have lost you!”
Brian rolls his eyes. He doesn't think he’s smarter than Roger. He just thinks Roger is dumber than him.
“No, I'm quitting! Soon as tour's over I'm flying out to you and I-.... No, I'm not! I'm not being dramatic!”
Brian smirks, chuckling to himself. “I wouldn't miss them. Not for a second. I can play drums anywhere. I don't need them! ... It is not bullshit!”
Brian’s surprised. Impressed even. He never thought that this girl would be defending them after everything he'd said to her. “I don't want to talk to those wankers. They treat you like you're some conquest. They don't even see it. I'm not like that anymore, Y/N. I'm just not that person anymore. You need to know that.”
Something in his words give Brian pause. Roger’s right: it'd been ages since he'd heard any moans coming from the other side of Roger's door. The drummer barely showed up at after parties anymore. Hell, even when women throw themselves at him, he just smiled politely, signing whichever body part they present him and returns to his previous conversation with the lads or their entourage.
There’s so many things Brian was used to seeing Roger numb himself with. Booze. Drugs. Sex. Anything that would bring him any sort of temporary relief. It had all stopped suddenly. Roger is now more focused and plays better. He fights less. He even started apologizing for things. He smiles more. It’s as if a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. No more dark circles under his eyes; no more empty bottles; no more smears of white powder left on tables.
Things are different now. They had been for a long time, he’d just been too conceited to notice. The changes seem to coincide with her sudden appearance in Roger’s life.
Brian bites at the inside of his lower lip, sighing as he knocks on Roger's door.
Roger curses, mumbling something to Y/N and brings the phone with him as he pries himself up off the bed and shuffles over to the door, flinging it open roughly.
“What the fuck do you want?” Roger spats. He’s vaguely aware of Y/N's voice in his ear, telling him to take it easy.
“To apologize.”
“Apology not accepted.” Roger tries to slam the door in his face but Brian’s quicker, smacking his hand against the hard wood.
“Really? I'm trying to be nice and you're going to bitch about it?” the guitarist can’t help but roll his eyes.
“Yep. That's the plan.” Roger is just about to try slamming the door shut again when he hears Y/N call his name loudly on the other line. He holds the receiver to his ear. “What did you say, love? ... No! Y/N, I don't want to hear anything he has to say.... Why should I?” The blond exhales angrily, eyes shooting daggers at Brian as he holds the receiver against his ear. “Come on in.”
The air is tense as Brian sits down next to Roger on his bed, biting at his thumbnail as Roger hits the speaker button on the base of the phone. “He can hear you now, love.” Roger mumbles. “Don't see why you're bothering with letting him apologize after he –”
“Just let him speak, Roger.” The voice from the speaker is crackly with static, sweet yet exasperated.
Brian smiles a little, feeling marginally better about things knowing she’s not too angry or hurt. “I, um...I wanted to say I'm sorry. I know I was wretched. I just got worried. Roger can be a bit of a dumbass sometimes and I –”
“I am not! You're the one that bloody –”
Y/N heaves an exasperated sigh, “For god’s sakes, Roger, just calm the fuck down and let him explain.”
Roger grumbles something under his breath. Brian can’t help but smirk. “Brian, I understand where you were coming from. You were only trying to protect him.”
Roger scoffs. “You're really going to side with Brian!?”
Y/N rolls her eyes, feeling a headache forming. Men. “You're being such a baby.”
Roger groans, crossing his arms over his chest as his jaw clenches.
Brian is starting to like this girl more and more. She knows how to put Roger in his place and he lets her. It’s refreshing, “I... I may have been wrong about you.”
Y/N smiles, “No shit!”
Roger can’t help but grin. That's my girl.
Y/N sighs, “But we'll get to you apologizing to me later. Right now, you two need to get your heads out of your asses and forgiving each other. Queen won't end because the two of you can't act like adults.”
Roger scoffs, “Fat chance.”
Brian shakes his head exasperatedly. “I swear, you're a child.”
“And you're a pompous asshole!”
“Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I'm pompous.”
“Oh, so now you don't think I'm smart?”
“Not when you act like a twat, I don't!”
“Piss off!”
“No! You –”
Y/N drops her phone back onto its base. Roger should have known she wouldn't sit there and listen to that crap. Roger and Brian go silent at the dial tone. The drummer curses, grumbling as he redials her number. It only rings once before she picks up.
“You two finished?” There’s silence and Y/N giggles. “I can't believe two grown men are being such babies.” Both of them open their mouths to argue in self defense but can’t before she’s laughing at them.
Brian sighs, “Rog, I'm sorry. I know you're not stupid and I –”
“You sure bloody act like it –”
Y/N exhales sharply, “Roger I swear to god if you don't stop interrupting, I won't pay my phone bill this month.”
Roger immediately goes silent and Brian laughs smugly. Roger flips him off.
Y/N shakes her head, “I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, Brian. You're already on thin ice.”
It’s Brian’s turn to go quiet and Roger’s to laugh smugly.
“Why do I feel like a mother scolding her two idiotic children?! Roger, Brian was just trying to look out for you. It was a shitty way of doing it but he loves you and wants you happy. Brian, Roger is hot headed, you know that better than me but because of you, I almost lost him and Roger was right in his reaction. You had no right to call me and call me a gold digger and an actress. You should have trusted your friend's judgment.”
Brian held out his hand, “I'm sorry, Roger.”
Roger takes it, giving it a reluctant shake. “I'm sorry, too.”
Y/N sighs in relief until Roger speaks again, “You need to apologize to Y/N as well. And you should know: she didn't ask for the money. I sent it to her without her knowledge and she yelled at me.”
Freddie walks by the open hotel room door, having heard their screams from the hall and leans against the post, observing the scene in front of him. Brian rubs his neck, cheeks turning red. “I'm sorry Y/N. I shouldn't have been so quick to judge.”
“You're right, you shouldn't have but I forgive you. I'm still hurt but I know it was done in good faith.”
Brian nods, guilt eating at him. “I understand completely. I... I wouldn't have forgiven me had I been in your shoes.”
Y/N smiles, glancing at the clock on her bedside table. “Lucky for you, I'm very forgiving and understanding. And as much fun as this is, I'm going to be late for a meeting.”
“Make sure to eat something, please.”
“Don't worry rockstar, I'm taking care of myself. I love you.”
Roger smiles sappily, “I love you too.”
After she hangs up, Freddie smiles and makes his way into the room and drops down next to Brian, “I like her.”
Roger grins, “Yeah, she's amazing.”
“I'm sorry I didn't stop Brian.”
The drummer shakes his head, “It's all good mate. You lot were just trying to look out for me. I was just angry because she was already hurting and you managed to make it worse. I hate hearing her cry.”
The two nod, realizing what a mess they had made. Freddie claps his hands, “Well, now that it's settled that you're not quitting the band and we're all friends again, we should celebrate! I won't take no for an answer, my darlings!”
————————————————————
Y/N’s pulled out of her thoughts as the phone rings at nine am. She knows it’s Roger: no one else calls her but she almost never gets calls from Roger this early in the day. There’s only a four-hour time difference, but it’s still rare for her to get a call before the middle of the night.
It’s nine and two minutes, meaning Roger is calling her at five in the morning his local time.
She picks up the phone in an instant, worried that something is wrong, “Rog? Are you ok?”
“Y/N? Y/N! It's me! It's Roger!”
She chuckles, realizing what’s going on. She can hear the smile in his voice as he basically screams across the distance separating them. “Hi, Rog. Sounds like you're having fun.”
He laughs drunkenly, stretching his legs across the couch he’s sitting on. “And you sound –” He groans longingly, “You sound so sexy, Y/N. So beautiful. Fucking gorgeous. Prettiest girl I've ever seen.”
Y/N giggles, face heating up at his words. “You've never seen me before, Rog.” She hears a few snickers from around him. “Am I on speaker phone?”
Roger nods, forgetting he was on the phone in his drunken state. He’s just happy to be speaking to his dream girl.
“Hello Y/N!” Brian calls, taking another swig from his nearly empty beer bottle. Y/N returns the greeting but Roger frowns, quickly switching her off speaker. “Brian doesn't get to ever talk to you ever.”
YN smiles sympathetically, “Aw, Rog. I told you I forgive him, so did you. He was just being friendly –”
“I don't have to see you to know you're pretty.” He interrupts, drunken mind already returning to the most important thing. “I just know it. I do.” He frowns, grumpy that she dares question how highly he thinks of her. “Prettiest girl in the universe.”
He yawns, rubbing at his eyes. “Wanna meet you so bad. I think...I think it's scary.”
YN hums, confused. “What's scary?”
“W-What'll I-...What is-...What if you don't think you like me as much? What'll I do then?”
Her heart stutters, “Oh Rog, of course I'll like you. I love you.”
“But you love hearing me but what about seeing me?” He croaks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “What if you don't like seeing me?”
Y/N sighs, “Roger, I'd love you if even if you were bald with green skin.”
“What if it's worse than all that?”
Y/N laughs, “Worse than bald with green skin!?”
Roger hides his drunken smile, as if she was there to see it. “I'm serious! I'm being serious and you're laughing at me!”
“Aw, Rog, I’m sorry. I won't laugh anymore.” She speaks through her giggles. “I'm listening. Really...”
Roger sighs, self consciously looking down at his body. “I...I'm not big.”
Y/N quirks her brow, intrigued by where this conversation is going. “What?”
“I'm not so big and muscly! I'm skinny! I mean...well...My shoulders are ok but –”
She chuckles, “Roger, my love, I promise I'm going to love the hell out of you no matter how muscly you are.”
Roger groans, “You've got to stop that.”
She frowns, “Stop what?”
“Stop...Just stop being so goddamn perfect all the time.”
Y/N scoffs, “I'm far from perfect, Rog.”
He groans again, “You sound so goddamn sexy.”
She laughs at him, loving how his drunken mind seems to go in circles. “Is it my 'I just woke up and haven't spoken yet' voice?”
Roger moans, running his hands through his hair. “You're just teasing now! You have any idea the kind of things I want to do to you?”
“I might have a vague idea, yes.”
Roger let his eyes fall closed, mumbling. “God, I just want to suck on your tits.”
Y/N's jaw drops, “Roger!” She feels her face turn scarlet, knowing he’s just a few steps away from his band mates and they are absolutely listening in.
“I mean it!” He whines, “You make me so fucking hard –”
“Roger, I am not having this conversation with you in front of your mates.”
He whines again, “'m not asking for full on phone sex!” His lips turn up in a smirk, “Maybe I could just get you off? The boys aren't listening.” He glances at his friends but he’s too drunk to really see, “At least I think they’re not.”
Y/N buries her face in her hand, “They most definitely are, Roger.”
He frowns, not comprehending what the issue is, “But I love you.”
“I love you too, rockstar.” She smiles, “Do me a favor? Put an aspirin and a glass of water by your bed.”
Roger feels himself tear up, “Are you hanging up?”
She knits her brows sympathetically. “I've got work, baby.” The last thing she wants to do is hang up on him when he sounds so adorable and horny but she’s already running late.
“Call me?” he asks, “Once you get home? The minute you get home.”
She’s smiling, “I don't think you'll be awake.”
“Wake me up, then.”
She chuckles, “Ok, rockstar.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Roger wakes up hours later, unsure on how he managed to get back to his room and with a pounding headache. He reaches for the aspirin and water he vaguely remembers putting on his bedside table, as requested by his amazing girlfriend.
While going to wash his face, he notices an envelope by the door. Reaching down to grab it, his heart flutters when he sees the name of the sender: YN LN. It’s priority mail, meaning she probably spent quite some money on it and it’s dated three days ago.
His hands shake as he tears the envelope open and tears filled his eyes as he finally knows what the girl of his dreams looks like.
----------------------------------------------------------
Y/N makes her way into her small apartment, keys held in her teeth, a grocery bag in one hand and mail in the other. She stops in the kitchen, quickly putting her groceries away before sitting on the sofa and going through the mail.
As usual, there are a few store coupons, a reminder that her rent is due in two weeks and an envelope from Roger. She’s come to love and hate these: postcards are great, full of witty comments and loving remarks. Envelopes usually mean that he either sent her money or a small gift. Stupid, sweet Roger.
Y/N's heart is beating like a hummingbird's as she opens the letter from Roger. She pulls out a single photo, clipped from a magazine with a single word written across the bottom.
Guess.
She smirks, sliding the photo back into the envelope and hurries to her room. She dials his number the minute she gets to the phone, sitting on the edge of her bed. It only rings once before he picks up. He doesn’t even get a chance to greet her. “You think you're so clever, don't you?”
Roger laughs, knowing exactly to what she’s referring to. “Yes, actually, I do.”
“You're such a wanker.” She’s laughing, shaking her head as she looks over the photo of Roger and his band mates.
He laughs, adjusting his pillow as he rubs his eyes, waking himself up a bit more, “Thought that was why you love me?”
Y/N smiles, kicking off her shoes as she lays back, “You want me to play that game? Fine, I'll play it, rockstar. I bet you twenty pounds I'll get it on the first try.”
“You really think you will?” Roger loves how confident she sounds. God, he loves this woman.
“Of course I will, drummer boy. I'd know you anywhere.” Her smile’s soft, the love she feels for the boy knew no limits.
He bit his lower lip, a grin breaking out on his lips 'You're on, sweetheart.'
YN pulls the photo closer, excitement rolling in her stomach. “Let's see...”
Every face in the picture is a beautiful one but she knows immediately that her Roger is the blond one but there’s no reason to make him aware of her discovery just yet.
She grins, the idea of making him sweat extremely amusing. “Suitor number one, here...Tall! He's got some legs on him, doesn't he? And just look at those curls! Gotta love a man with curls.”
Roger feels jealousy boiling in his stomach, but he does his best to ignore it, not wanting to give anything away. He starting to regret sending her a group photo. “Number two...Oh! that jacket is lovely. I like the silk. He knows how to dress, for sure.” Roger chuckles. Good old Fred.
“Number three...Number three looks like he's quite a sweetheart, doesn't he? So smiley! And that little striped vest!”
Roger purses his lips nervously, knowing she’s about to focus on him and talk about her first impression. What if she doesn’t find him attractive?
“Number four is this blond fellow.” Y/N smiles, her heart fluttering as she gazes at the man she loves. “Sparkly pink shoes, looks a bit tired. Might be drunk in this photo, actually. Stunningly handsome. Looks like he's got a bit of an attitude too.” She pauses for a moment, making Roger smile. She’d described all his friends perfectly and he can tell from her voice that she knows. He loves her even more for it.
“Yep, there's my Rog.”
Roger laughs, cursing his mind for doubting her even for a second. “I do not have an attitude!”
“You do!” She counters between laughs, “I would too if I wore pants that tight!”
He smirks, “I just wanted to show off my cute ass for you, love.”
YN grins, “Wait 'til you see mine, pretty boy. I can guarantee it's cuter.”
Roger's face goes red. The power this woman holds over him was astounding.
She hummed blissfully, head relaxing against her pillow as she admires the photo once again. “You're beautiful, Rog. Knew you would be...”
How she ended up being so lucky, she will never know but she will thank her lucky starts everyday from here on out.
Roger's heart stutters. He wants to ask her if she really means it but his heart knows she would never lie, especially about this. He looks over at her picture, propped against the base of the phone. He’s been carrying it in his wallet and keeps it next to his bed when they stop at hotels. His eyes scan her smiling face. “Do you have any birthmarks?”
She giggles, thrown but the sudden question. “What?”
“You know, birthmarks.” He realizes that it sounds random but he wants to know everything he can about her. At this point, he’s aware of her family history, of her interests and hobbies, and friends but he knows almost nothing about her body except for what he can make out from the picture. Roger wants to memorize every inch of her.
She quirks her brows, “I've got a little one on my back but it just looks like a mole. Why?”
“Just curious.” He admits, “What about scars? My hands and arms are covered in small ones because of the drumming and stupid fights.”
Y/N laughs at that, not at all surprised by his sheepish confession. “Mm... I have a scar on my left wrist. Got it when I was probably around five-ish. I was riding my bike and ran into my garage door. The glass window shattered on my arm. It both scared and scarred me.”
Roger smiles, imagining how her body looked liked, her scars and all. “Are you ticklish?”
“Depends on where you try it.”
Roger grins, “I can't wait to figure it out.”
They settle for a moment, letting the familiar silence wash over them. Words hang unspoken in the air and Roger decides to through caution to the wind. “I wish I could touch you. Just explore you. Every inch of your gorgeous body.” He’s wanted to say these words for so long.
Y/N smiles, a warm feeling washing over her. Roger can’t help but imagine her sitting in her room, holding the receiver to her ear. He hums, picturing his hands running down the smooth skin of her stomach. He swallows thickly, arousal pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Have you got a soft spot?” God, he wants to be with her so bad it’s a physical pain.
She smirks, her voice lowering a bit and taking on a sultry tone, “Why ever would you asking Rog?”
He chuckles, pants tightening at her tone and implications but two can play at that game. “Think you know why, love.”
She feels heat pool in her stomach, “Maybe you should wait and find it yourself.”
He groans in frustration, “What if I don't want to wait? What if I want to hear you moan my name right now?”
Y/N clenches her thighs, biting her lip to hold back any sounds that might escape her lips. Roger isn’t done though. “If you like that, just wait till I get my hands on you. I'll ruin you in the best ways. You'll be screaming my name.”
YN's head falls back, hitting the wall with a small thud as she moaned, panties growing wetter by the word. “Is that so drummer boy?”
Roger nearly moans, “Well, you know what they say about drummers, don't you?”
Y/N bites her lip. “What do they say?”
He smirks, “They do it harder.”
The silence is pregnant. Roger's boxers are tented and he’s feeling too hot under the hotel blanket so he throws it to the side before speaking again. “I had a dream about you last night.” His tone leaves little to guess about the nature of said dream.
“Lucky you,” She’s breathless, mind buzzing and body aflame.
Roger chuckles huskily, “And you said I have an attitude. What I am to do with you?”
Y/N smirks, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Are you taking requests?”
Roger moans shamelessly, boxers too tight to be comfortable as he rearranges himself. “I wouldn't mind having you under me.”
It’s her turn to whimper, legs rubbing together to alleviate some of the building pressure in her core. “I wouldn't mind having you on top of me.”
Roger closes his eyes, imagining the scene and wishing it was currently reality. “You won't get anything if you keep talking back.”
Y/N giggles, “You didn't think I'd go down without a fight, did you rockstar?”
God, he loved her. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude right out of her. “Honestly, I thought I'd be the one going down...”
Roger doesn’t expect the moan that comes out of Y/N's mouth and he wishes he could hear it in person. He smirks, “I bet you're an absolute mess right now.”
“You're welcome to come over here and find out.”
Roger wants nothing more, “That's tempting, sweetheart.”
She smirks, “It was meant to be.”
“You're such a brat.” He loves it.
“You didn't know that?” She’s playing coy, riling him up and Roger is soaking up each word.
“You've got quite the mouth on you.”
She bites her lip, “You'll love it even more once you feel what I can do with it.”
Roger moans, palming himself over his briefs. “I'm so bloody hard right now. All because of that mouth of yours, you minx.”
Y/N whimpers, “What do you want me to do about it?”
Roger squeezes himself, hips canting up from the bed. “I can think of a few things, actually.”
She palms her breast, bra getting in the way and she quickly rids herself of it. “Yeah? Want to know how wet I am for you? Would you like me to touch myself? Let you hear as I moan your name?”
Roger's breath comes out in pants, hand slipping beneath the elastic of his briefs to grip his cock. “That'd be a great start.”
She smirks, loving how worked up he sounds. “Bet I can finish too.”
Roger laughs breathlessly, “Damn right you will, love.”
Her underwear is soaked, fingers itching to remove them and get some relief and her mouth works faster than her brain. “What are you doing right now?”
Roger swallows around the knot in his throat, “I'll give you three guesses.”
“What if I get it wrong?”
Roger smirks, “Don't find out.”
Y/N has always loved a challenge, “What it I want to?”
“It might involve you not getting to cum, so I'd think about it real hard.”
“Is that a hint, lover boy?”
Roger moans, finally slipping his cock out of his boxers and slowly starting to run his hand up and down his shaft.
“That sure was pretty, rockstar. Let me hear it again.”
“You first, love.” He pants, “Touch yourself for me. Let me hear those pretty little sounds I know you make.”
Y/N lets her hand slip past the band of her panties, fingers teasing herself as she slowly circles her clit. She moans, making Roger speed up his movements as he smirks. “So you can follow directions.”
She moans again, applying more pressure to her clit. “Only you for.”
Roger can’t get enough of the sounds coming from the phone. “You sound so sexy. I can’t wait to taste you baby.”
Y/N slides her finger lower, teasing her entrance as Roger continues speaking, “I’ve had some many dreams about you, baby. Dreamt about watching your face as you clench around my cock.”
Y/N moans loudly, the images in her head and the words spoken in her ear driving her mad. “Roger”, she whimpers, fingers sinking into her slick core, “want your cock in my mouth, Rog. Want to feel it against the back of my throat.”
Roger curses, hips bucking wildly as he pumps himself. “God, the sounds you make will be the death of me.” He closes his eyes, holding the receiver close to his ear to make sure he won’t miss a single sound, “I'm so hard baby. Leaking all over my hand.”
Roger swipes his thumb over the tip, gathering the precum and using it to aid his hand. “Wish it was your hand.”
Y/N whimpers, fingers pumping her heat faster and faster. “Feels so good, Roger. I need you so bad.”
Roger curses again, “How'd you want me, love? You want my face buried in your cunt? That make you feel good?” The more he speaks, the closer she gets to her release. “Or would you want me inside you? I'd fill you up so good, baby.”
It’s Y/N's turn to curse, closing her eyes as she pictures his blond hair between her thighs. “I bet you'd look beautiful between my legs, rockstar. I want you so bad. Need to feel every inch of you stretching me. Fuck, Rog.”
She lets out a pathetic whimper, phone held between her shoulder and ear so both her hands are free, one to tweak her pert nipple and the other rubbing her clit furiously. “So close.”
Roger places the receiver on his shoulder, using his now free to cup his balls as the other increases the speed of his strokes. “hat's right love, cum all over your pretty fingers. Let me hear you.”
His vision goes fuzzy, chest warm as he lets himself cum while listening to Y/N whimpers and moan his name as she orgasms.
Roger whimpers as he finally lets got of his cock, breath coming out unevenly. He can hear Y/N's own sounds reducing, breath steadying. Never in his life has he felt such a strong need for aftercare. Through the years, he'd humor the stranger in his bed, playing with their hair or kissing them before they finally left. He never saw the point in pretending that the night of passion they shared was going to lead anywhere but he wasn't a complete jackass.
For the first time in his life, Roger wishes he could hold this amazing girl in his arms, kiss her lips as she relaxes against him. Maybe even clean her up, if she'd let him.
“Rog?” her voice sounds tired yet satisfied, and it makes him smile.
“Yes, my love?”
“I love you.”
Roger feels complete. “I love you too.”
----------------------------------------------------
“Are you excited the tour is ending tonight?”
Roger sighs, a smile on his face. “You have no idea! No more sharing a tour bus with those three wankers, I get to sleep in my own bed and eat food that isn't prepared in a restaurant or that comes in a take-out container.”
Y/N grins, putting a pillow behind her knees as she gets comfortable in the sofa, “Sounds like a dream.”
Roger hums, not completely agreeing. His dream is now something more domestic. “And the record label said we'll be in London for a while.”
The unsaid words hang in the air. Roger desperately wants to ask her to meet in person. They’ve been together for a bit over a year, speaking for almost three. If he’s honest with himself, he’s scared shitless. So much could go wrong and he needs her in his life.
“Oh.” Y/N isn’t sure on how to reply. She wants to meet him, hug him, see the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs or how cute his face is when he pouts. She’s scared but she knows she needs him in her life and it’s time she feels his arms around her. “Maybe we could grab a coffee?”
Roger grins, voice full of emotion. “Yeah? You sure you want to hang out with a rockstar?”
“You sure you want to hang out with a book worm?”
Roger laughs wetly, heart beating furiously in his chest. “I wouldn't want it any other way.”
—-—————————————————-
Every corner he turns, Roger can’t help but let his eyes drift over the crowded streets, searching for that familiar face. He keeps a hand in his pocket, thumbing over his photo of Y/N like a security blanket as he trails behind the rest of the boys. He unwraps another strawberry sweet, popping it in his mouth as Freddie grabs John's arm, leading them all into another women's clothing store.
Roger has been back in London for almost a month now, and both him and Y/N have yet to find the time or courage to meet in person. It’s an odd, nervous game each time he goes out now, like a "Where's Waldo" from hell. What if he’s right beside her and he doesn't even know it? He shakes the thought from his mind immediately: he would know her face anywhere.
“C’mon Rog,” John sigh, an arm wrapping around the drummer’s shoulders as Freddie digs through a rack of leather pants. He pulls a pair off the rack, holding them up to Brian but they fall about mid shin against his outrageously long legs, making the guitarist scrunch his nose in annoyance. “You’ll meet her soon enough, mate. You don't have to go searching every time you're out.”
The blond groans, letting his head fall back against his friend’s arm. “You have no idea how hard this is, John.”
The bassist frowns, “Sure I do. I've got a family. I miss 'em more than anything when I'm gone.”
Roger sighs as Deacy gives him a firm pat on the back. “But it's not the same, though. Yeah, you miss Veronica and the kids when we’re away but...but at least you know what it feels like to hold her. Kiss her... All I have is that one photo of her. You get to go home, to a house full of life and love. I went home to an empty flat.” His hand hovers over his coat pocket where said photo sat, tucked away.
Freddie gives a sympathetic look as he folds his arms over his chest. “It’s going to happen darling. You just have to be patient. The universe is waiting for just the right moment to spring her on you!” He winks, grinning brightly.
Roger rolls his eyes, “Fuck the universe.” He doesn’t care if he sounds like a child. He’s waited long enough. “It's been three bloody years. I'm tired of waiting.”
Brian smiled softly, “I'm sure she’s just as eager as you are, Rog.”
Roger wanders outside the shop, tired of their optimism. He just wants to meet the girl of his dreams. Is that too much to ask for? He ends up flipping through a little rack of postcards set up next to the door. He chuckles to himself, trying to figure out how funny it would be if he sends Y/N a 'London' one.
He pulls her photo out of his pocket, admiring it as his eyes wander about the crowd. He knows he'd recognize her in an instant. The moment he sees her, there will be not doubt in his mind. No other smile in a crowd of people could be as bright as hers. He’s so busy people watching that he barely notices it, tucked away on the street corner.
Author’s attic.
He freezes, heart speeding like a train as his eyes fixate on the store on the opposite side of the road. It’s a quaint little shop. Vines climb up the side of it, nearly obscuring the sign. It'd clearly been painted ages ago and cracks had long since riddled the letters. Roger feels like he can’t move a single muscle. It can’t be that simple, can it?
Roger pays the boys no concern, abandoning them in the shop as he forces his feet to move from their spot glued to the pavement. He stumbles across the street, eyes locked on the store as his heart sits in his throat.
Please, let this be the right place.
A small bell chimes as he allows the door to close behind him. The place is exactly the way he'd imagined: books lining every available surface, books piled by the register, books stacked beneath a potted plant. There are even books arranged beside a small armchair under the front window. It smells of coffee and old paper, and it feels welcoming and homey.
“I’ll be right with you!”
Roger feels like he’s stopped breathing: he would recognize that voice anywhere. Tears gloss his eyes, his hand trembles as he reaches into his pocket, fingers grazing over his worn picture of her.
He turns towards her when she buzzes into the main room, arms full of thick story books.
“Sorry to keep you waiting!” She chirps, eyes not leaving her work as she flits around her desk, putting things in their right place. “Things have been so busy around here lately.” She chuckles, “I've barely been able to keep my own head on my shoulders!”
He watches her with a smile, tears threatening to fall. He blinks them back quickly, refusing to let her see him cry. His throat tightens with emotion and he can feel his palms starting to sweat. He wants to say something suave, something that’ll make him sound poetic and well-educated. Something that won’t make him sound like the love-struck idiot he is, but his mind seems to only hold her name. “Y/N...”
She turns around so fast he fears she might get whiplashed. Her eyes are wide as she meets his blue ones. The room spins for a second, and she can't quite tell if she’s imagining it or if it’s real. Her rockstar. Home after all this time. Seeing him here, in her world of books, with his messy blonde locks. He’s even prettier than any photo she’s ever seen.
His name is a breath on her lips, “Roger.”
She drops the books in her arms to the side, stumbling over her own feet as she runs to him, falling into his arms. She presses her face against his neck, her arms lock tightly around his shoulders. She can’t even try to contain the sobs that wrack her body. He smells of cigarettes and wood. He smells like home.
Roger can't believe how perfectly she fits in his arms; how normal it feels. He wraps an arm around her waist while his other hand buries in her hair, crushing her tightly against him. Her hair smells amazing, something sweet he can't quite place.
He sniffles, kissing the crown of her head as tears stream down his cheeks. His voice is weak and pitiful when he speaks, “It's so nice to finally hold you.”
Y/N gives a watery laugh, lips pressed against the warm skin of his neck. “You're home.”
Roger moves his hand down to the nape of her neck, making her pull back to look at him as he moves his hands to cradled her cheeks. Never had he seen such beautiful eyes, so expressive and full of love. Roger's thumb grazes her cheek, soothingly. His voice’s barely a whisper. “Knew I was right. You're the prettiest girl I have ever laid eyes on.”
Y/N laughs, head thrown back. She kisses his cheek, making him grin like a child on Christmas morning. “You're so beautiful, Rog.” She admires him, tucking some hair behind his ears. “Don't even need muscles.”
He tickles her sides, and she giggles, nose scrunching as he pulls her close again. Her laughter trails off as he smiles down at her, forehead resting against hers. He feels her hand rest on his chest, right above his heart as she clutches his shirt.
His eyes linger on her lips before locking with hers again. Her breath stalls. Roger is slow in cradling her face, indulging in her as he runs his thumb over her skin. His hand drops to hold the back of her head, tilting her into him as her nose nudges against his. Their lips graze.
A bell rings.
They jump apart, heads turning to the door to find his three friends staring at them. Brian and Deacy’s eyes are wide with shock and confusion: they turn their backs on Roger for five minutes and here he is, nearly making out with a store clerk after bitching about not being able to meet the girl he loves. Freddie just looks amused.
Roger groans, failing to hide the smile on his face. “God damnit Brian! Why do you always have to ruin everything?!”
Y/N burst out laughing, her head lulling back as Roger's hands holds her hips. Once she cracks, he can't hold back his laughter any longer, her smile infectious. His grin widens at Brian's confused expression. Freddie gives them a knowing smile, waiting to see if Brian could figure it out.
The singer knew who she was the moment he'd seen the two: Roger's protective stance, the starry-eyed look he has in his eyes, the way they are so comfortable with each other. It’s more than enough to hint at the girl's identity. Not to mention that he'd seen Roger fall asleep on the tour bus couch multiple times, still clutching her photo in his hand.
Freddie glances at Brian, chuckling as he decides Brian wasn't getting any smarter about the situation. The singer takes a step forward, lifting his sunglasses off the bridge of his nose. He gives Roger a wink, “So this is the girl you love?”
Roger goes red as Brian's eyes light up with realization, a grin on his face as Freddie smiles knowingly. “What did I tell you, darling? Trust the universe.”
Roger rolls his eyes, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from tugging up in a smile.
Brian finally pipes up, “Wait a second, so you're –”
“The actress trying to get in to your best friend's wallet.” She gives an amused smirk, extending her hand to shake his. “It's a pleasure.”
Brian blushes. Honestly, he had hoped that when they finally met, she wouldn't bring up the horrible things he had said to her. Without making eye contact, he timidly shakes her hand, “It's nice to meet you. Again, I want to apologize fo –”.
Brian feels two slender hands rest on his cheeks. He slowly lifts his eyes, meeting hers.
Y/N wears a kind smile on her lips as she speaks, “I'm just teasing. It's all good, Brian. You were just trying to be a good friend.”
The guitarist nods, unsure in his smile as Roger wraps his arm around her waist once again, pulling her towards his body. Brian observes how connected the two seemed to be: their movements are almost synchronized, and although they had just met in person, they somehow work perfectly together, like a couple who had grown up together.
John smiles at the group, “As much as I would love to get to know you, I think it's best to leave you and Roger alone for a bit. You deserve some time to get acquainted.”
Roger grins, kissing Y/N's temple. The girl smiles, her hands resting on the drummer's. “I like that idea. Rog, want to grab that coffee?”
----------------------------------------
“Sorry for the mess Rog! I didn't think I'd be having any visitors today.” Y/N bites her lips as she moves around the messy living room, trying to clean up a bit but Roger wraps his arms around her from behind, making her stand straight. He gently moves her hair to the side, placing a gentle kiss where her neck meets her shoulder.
“I don't care about the mess,” his voice is as soft as his touch, “All I care about is being here, with you.” Y/N hums, relaxing in his arms with her eyes closed as she enjoys the warmth emanating from his body. “It's all I've cared about for a while.”
Roger chuckles, content to stay like this forever. He can’t get enough of her. Her smile, her hands on his, her smell filling his nostrils. If this is a dream, he never wants to wake.
“Did you really keep all the post cards I sent you?” Roger isn't sure why he asked, but he needs to know if those pieces of cardboard were just as important to her as they are to him.
Y/N nods, gently taking one of his hands in hers and silently makes her way through the flat. The drummer lets his eyes wander, taking in as much as he can. She leads him to her bedroom and it feels oddly reassuring to be here. He had imagined this room so many times; he had pictured her laying on that same bed so many times, playing with her hair as she talked to him.
It's surreal. It’s almost exactly like he imagined it to be in his head: soft and warm and homey. He loves it. Every inch of it screams her name. It’s cozy. A big patterned rug covered the wooden floor, and her bed’s made up with a pretty knitted blanket. And there, right above the bed, hangs a little bulletin board, holding every post card he'd ever sent her.
She smiles as she watches him wander around her room, a grin on his face. She stops herself from apologizing for the mess once again, as she moves to her bed to remove some papers and books from it.
Roger runs his index finger over the leather-bound spines of the books lining the few shelves on her walls. She must have hundreds. Her walls are lined with them and still, she doesn't have enough room for them all.
Roger pulls a small red one from the bedside table. The Velveteen Rabbit. He smiles a little to himself, flipping through the brightly illustrated pages. Y/N walks over to him, arms wrapping around his middle from behind as she kisses his shoulder before resting her head against it.
“My mum used to read this to me all the time, especially when I was sad.” He mumbles quietly, stopping on a drawing of the little boy holding the plush rabbit. “It was my favorite.”
Y/N's heart grows a few sizes at the image of a young Roger seated in his mother's lap as she read to him.
Roger's heart stutters as he flips through the pages, recounting the story of the little plush bunny, turned real by love. A knot forms in his throat as he admires the book's last illustration: the rabbit, sitting by a raspberry bush in the little boy's garden, visiting the one who had brought him to life.
Y/N feels Roger stiffen a little, and she meets his glossy eyes as he turns in her arms, “What's wrong, rockstar?”
Roger laughs breathlessly, her gentle touch calming him immensely. “Nothing. It's just...” He shakes his head a little, refusing to let his voice go watery. “It's just that I never really got it until now.”
Confusion knits her brow, “Got what?”
Roger smiles a little, looking back down at the book and then at the girl holding him. “I guess...well...Sometimes it takes being loved by someone to finally make you feel alive.”
Y/N's heart feels full of so much love she doesn’t know what to do with it. She stands there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She does the only thing she feels she can do: she tightens her arms around his waist, giving him the biggest, warmest hug, he'd ever received. His arms wrap around her, stroking up and down her back.
“I love you.” Roger whispers against her ear. It feels amazing to be able to tell her as he holds her in his arms.
“I love you too.”
Their foreheads meet as Roger's nose nudges hers, heat building slowly between them. Y/N takes a little step backwards, knowing if she inches any closer, she'd want to jump his bones more than she already does.
Roger smirks, taking a step forward. She goes a bit breathless, smiling playfully as she takes another step back, only for her back to be pressed flush against her bookcase.
He chuckles, toying with a loose strand of her hair. “Caught you.”
Y/N tries to steady her breathing as his hand cradle her face. He runs his thumb over her lower lip. “What're you going to do now?”
Her eyes trail to his lips subconsciously, “I'm going to wait for you to kiss me, rockstar.”
He grins, pressing into her. He thinks back to that night he first called her. He thinks over every moment he had been so desperate to hold her in his arms.
The moment he kisses her, Roger is brought to life.
Her lips are softer than anyone's he'd ever kissed before. The kiss is gentle, her hand moving to cradle Roger's face as they melt into one another. He tastes of sweets.
Her skin smells of cinnamon and it reminds him of the tea Freddie would drink in the morning.
Roger inhales the sweet, spicy scent as he deepens the kiss. Her fingers laced in his hair, soft and fine between her fingers, and he hums a moan against a sensitive spot below her ear, her eyes fluttering shut in bliss.
Y/N feels overwhelmed in the best way. This is what she had craved for over two years and now that it’s finally happening, she’s afraid she won't be able to commit to memory all the feelings. Roger's lips moving against her own, the rapid beating of their hears. The feeling of his breath on her neck as he lays gentle kisses on it. It’s enough to make her mind spin.
She lets his hands grip her thigh tightly as she gives in to the urge to grind against him. He refuses to let his hands leave her body: some small part of him still afraid she'll disappear at any moment.
Roger pulls her closer, keeping an arm against the wall as he grabs at her ass, rutting against her clothed heat. She lets out a whine, thoroughly enjoying the friction as wetness pools between her legs.
Y/N wants more. Craves it. Needs his hands all over her. Needs his red-stained tongue against every inch of her body. She pulls away from his lips, panting as he drags his eyes over the curve of her hips and breasts. He takes one step back, eyes locking with hers as he pulls his shirt off. Her eyes roam his chest, mouth still ajar as she tries to catch her breath. He holds her loosely in his arms, pecking her lips. He will never get enough of her sweet taste. Roger will never get enough of her.
“Rog, I...” Y/N fumbles over her words. “I...” She needs him to know. She needs him to know how much she loves him. She needs him to know how uncomfortably wet her panties are becoming. He chuckles, meeting her eyes, as she tries to remember English. Roger feels a thread of concern build in his chest. Has he made her nervous? Has he gone to far?
He presses a sweet kiss on her forehead, “What's wrong, love?”
Timidly, she takes a step away from the bookshelf, moving so that Roger is now the one with his back to it. His brow quirks with confusion. Her eyes are locked with his, cheeks flushed and hair messy. Roger swallows thickly, heart racing in his chest as he watches her slowly drop to her knees in front of him.
Her hands tremble as she unbuttons his jeans, tugging down the zipper and pulling them down off his hips. Roger has to force himself to grab her wrists, pausing her movements. “You sure?”
Y/N doesn't say a word. Instead, her eyes stay locked with his as she leans forward, mouthing at his cock through his boxers. Roger gives a whimper, his hand lacing in her hair as his head tips back against the wall. He curses under his breath at the feeling of her hot mouth on his cock.
Roger has been sucked off before. In fact, Roger has been sucked off a lot, but never once has it ever felt as good as it does right now and he isn't sure if it’s because he’s in love with her, and he's been dreaming of seeing her pretty lips around his cock for months now, or if it’s the way she’s taking him into the back of her throat, dragging her tongue over his shaft, but he can barely remember his own name. He knows e should be embarrassed by the sounds passing his lips, but he can't find it in himself to care.
Roger hadn't even realized how long it'd been since he'd had physical sex with someone. He'd forgotten how good it could feel.
He whines her name hoarsely, his fingers itching to be against her skin. “Y/N, you've got to stop, love. I won't last.”
He watches as she pulls off of him, kissing the head of his cock one last time before Roger pulls her up to meet his lips again. He has her on the bed in seconds, nearly tripping as he finishes shedding his jeans and boxers. He mounts her, wasting no time in grabbing the waist band of her pants and pulling them down over her ass, taking her panties with them. He wants to tease her. He really does but the moment he sees her cunt, all soaked and ready for him, he loses all coherent thoughts.
Her jaw drops open, seeing stars as he flattens his tongue, dragging up slowly over her sensitive folds. His mouth is hot and wet against her as he circles her clit with the tip of his tongue, sucking it expertly as her back arches off the mattress.
Roger has never been more grateful that he’s experienced. It’s as if every girl he's ever been with, had been a practice run for Y/N. He knows where to suck, where to prod and lick and devour to make her squirm and buck into his mouth. He watches her face intently as she moans and ruts against his face, the arousal from her inner thighs smearing across his cheeks. He loops his arms around her thighs, her hands clutching the bed sheet like a vice. She gasps loudly as he shoves his tongue inside her, fucking her with it as he explores the inside of her hole. She cries out, head pressing into her pillow as her legs start trembling. He can feel her clit throbbing as he returns his mouth to it, pushing two fingers inside her to replace his tongue. She screams hoarsely, and Roger smirks against her heat as he fucks her harder, crooking his fingers inside her.
“Roger, I'm cumming. Don't stop, Rog, please don't stop!” She gasps, hips rolling as she rides his face, a numbing, warm pleasure washing over her. She gives a breathy sob as Roger works her through her high with his fingers, face still buried in her cunt.
She squirms beneath him as she grows sensitive, overstimulation setting in. She whines as he presses his thumb to her clit, rubbing circles over it as he sucks at her folds. “R-Rog you can stop –”. She whimpers as he hums in response, continuing his tongue's assault on her pussy.
“Rog...” She groans again, her hips settling as the discomfort begins to melt into pleasure. God, she’s so sensitive. It’s so much. So much at once. How is she already this close? Roger chuckles against her, watching her face as his lips finds her clit again. She lets out a high-pitched moan as the pleasure begins to build again, warmth tingling till the tips of her toes. The fire in her belly increases and she grips his hair tightly as she comes on his tongue again with a silent scream. He brings her back to earth, resting his chin against her stomach as she finds her bearings, cheeks pink and chest heaving.
“Want to go again?” Smug bastard.
Y/N fights to catch her breath, “Jesus, Rog, if you go again, you'll bloody kill me.”
Roger laughs, crawling up to meet her lips. She groans, tasting herself against his tongue. “Taste like fucking candy, don't you?” His voice is thick with lust.
Y/N peels off her shirt, leaving her wearing nothing but a thin bra. Roger hooks his finger under one of the straps, pulling it down so that he can roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making her moan and arch into his touch.
Y/N wraps her hand around his cock, pumping him slowly and Roger curses, eyes rolling back as he grinds against her hand. His name slips from his lips breathlessly. Heat bubbles in Roger's veins and without a second thought, he rips her bra down the center, exposing her tits. Y/N gasps at the sudden movement, breasts heaving as Roger kneads one in his palm, mouthing at the other. She barely notices his other hand sinking lower until he has two fingers pressed up inside of her.
Y/N whines, sobbing breathlessly as he fingers her. She’s wet and tight around his fingers, clenching as he hits her g-spot with ever movement of his talented fingers. Roger groans, the idea of his cock buried inside her nearly bringing him over the edge.
“I love you.” She moans, his name like a prayer falling from her kiss-bruised lips.
Roger curses, cock twitching in her hand at the wet sounds her cunt makes against his knuckles. He nuzzles his face in the crook of her neck, sucking dark bruises into her skin.
“I need to be inside you.” His voice is desperate and hoarse. “Please, I need to fuck you.” He’s desperate with the need to be buried inside of her, to be connected totally and completely.
Y/N pulls his face up to hers so she crashes her lips to his, cradling his face as he kissed her desperately.
“Ruin me.” She whispers, hands tangled in his hair.
Roger has to grip his cock roughly to stop himself from cumming. He whimpers, lining himself up with her entrance. Y/N cries out as he sinks into her.
“Tight fucking cunt. Shit.” Roger groans into her neck. “Love you so fucking much.”
Tears of emotion well in her eyes. “I love you too.”
Y/N’s breath comes up in short pants, back arching as pleasure flows through her body. “I love you, Rog. You feel so good inside me, baby.”
Y/N bucks into him as he fucks her, the head of his cock hitting her sweet spot with every smack of his hipbones against hers. His left hand finds hers, fingers lacing between her own. He squeezes her hand lovingly, thrusting harder against her. His eyes stay locked with hers as he kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips. “My gorgeous girl.”
He moans as her free hand finds his hair. “You fuck me so good, Rog. Oh god.”
She can feel him throbbing inside her as he watches himself disappear inside of her again and again. Tears stream down Y/N's face, “I'm close Rog.” Her eyes screw shut with pleasure.
“No, look at me, baby. Look at me while you cum. I want to watch you cum on my cock,” He kisses her jaw, releasing her hand so that he can rub her swollen clit, “I've got you, sweetheart. Cum. Cum for me.”
Y/N's eyes lock with his as her body trembles, her stomach pulsing with heat and pleasure as wave after wave of bliss overwhelm her. She sobs hoarsely, clenching around him again and again.
Roger buries his face in the crook of her neck as she tightens around him, letting her pull him over the edge with her. He whimpers into her neck, biting at it to muffle his moans as he spills inside her. Her legs wrap around his hips, heels pressing into his lower back as he relaxes against her, trembling. He kisses her long and hard, emotions pouring through the simple contact.
Y/N's leg go lax, releasing Roger from her grasp but as he tries to get out of bed, she latches onto his arm, forcing him to lay on his back so she can rest her head against his chest, legs tangling with his.
Roger smiles fondly down at her, an arm behind his head as the other wraps around her shoulders, pulling her as close as he possibly can. “I was going to grab a wash cloth to clean you up, but I think you may have other ideas.”
YN nods, placing a gently kiss over his heart. She turns her face upwards, eyes drinking him in. “I just got you, I don't want you going anywhere so soon. Sheets can be washed and we can shower later. I need this moment with you.”
Roger has never felt so happy or content his whole life. He places the hand under his head on her cheek, urging her to move her face closer to his. He closes his eyes as he gently places a kiss to her swollen lips, feeling completely at peace.
Roger never believed in fate or in soulmates. Not until he met Y/N. It had been Fate that had given him her number, it had been their destiny to meet and fall in love. She completes him, understands him and his crazy lifestyle like no one ever could. He wants this moment to last forever.
Roger wants to wake up everyday beside Y/N, kiss her whenever he wants. He wants to see her in the crowd of every single one of his shows. He wants to be the one she calls when she needs help moving around books or shelves in her store.
Roger wants a life with Y/N.
“Marry me.” He wants to spend the rest of his life getting to know every single facet of her body and soul.
“What?” her heart had just returned to normal and now it’s beating erratically again, eyes wide as saucers as she looks at his angelic face.
“Marry me.” There’s no doubt in his mind that this is what he needs to bet truly happy for the rest of his days. “It doesn't have to happen right away. You're it for me. There will never be anyone else. You're the love of my life, Y/N. I want to spend every waking and sleeping moment with you.”
“Ok.”
Nothing about their relationship has been normal. Not the way they met or how they fell in love. She never wants to spend another moment away from him.
Distance really did make the heart grow fonder.
#roger taylor x you#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor reader insert#roger taylor fanfic#roger taylor fanfiction#queen fanfiction#ben hardy!roger taylor#ben hardy!roger taylor x reader#ben!roger x reader#queen fanfic#slow burn roger taylor#protective roger taylor#roger taylor imagine#roger taylor smut#roger taylor queen#queen band#queen band fanfic#borhap fanfic#borhap movie fic
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The Grumpy x Sunshine Alphabet
It occurred to me that in the (very, very long) time I've been writing the Grumpy Sunshine Series, I've never done the alphabet prompt. So... let's do the alphabet with Grumpy!Bucky Barnes and Sunshine!Reader!
☀️Part of The Grumpy x Sunshine Series☀️
A = FFECTION [How affectionate are they? How do they show affection? Do they enjoy PDA?]
Before you, Bucky could not stand being touched, especially when it caught him off guard. Doing that was a great way to break a finger or two. He's since turned a new leaf and now only marginally hates when other people touch him.
He's warming up to PDA, but still prefers to show his affection behind closed doors. He can't quite admit it yet, but he finds himself actually enjoying holding hands with you, pressing kisses to your temple, protectively wrapping an arm around your waist. He could do without Sam's constant, dramatic, fake gags and bitter murmurings, "Gross".
And as for you, even as friends, you were very affectionate with Bucky. He wasn't used to it, to someone feeling so safe, so comfortable around him. People didn't usually try to approach him, much less actually touch him. Bucky's pretty sure he short circuited a little bit the first time you booped his nose.
And don't get him started on the first time you held his hand.
Now that he thinks about it, he can't be too sure that you didn't just Pavlov him into liking affection.
B = EAUTY [What is their favorite part of their partner. Body part, trait, anything?]
As cliche as it sounds, Bucky's favorite part of you is your smile. Something in brain stops working when he see your brilliant smile. He'd never in a million years admit it to anyone, but he's always looking for new ways to describe that damned smile. It's the kind of smile that could light up a room, the kind of smile that you just have to stop and look at, it's lyrical and melodic, it's a perfect smile. But mostly, he likes how genuine that smile is. There is no faking a smile like that. Whenever you smile, he knows it's real.
You, on the other hand, talk constantly about what you like about Bucky. The little wrinkles in the corner his eyes that only ever show when he smiles, the light freckles that dust his cheeks, you like the sound of his voice, the scruff on his jawline. But your favorite part of him is most definitely his eyes. You told him that the first time you met him. You felt like he just had to know how brilliant and breathtaking those blue eyes were. You look at those eyes and you know you're home.
C = OMFORT [How do they comfort their partner? Ex. after a panic attack or bad dream?]
Bucky likes to be held after a panic attack or a nightmare. He likes to listen to your heart rate, to your even breaths, to feel the gentle touch of your hand trailing up and down his spine, lulling him back to a calm state.
You like to be grounded. Whether that be in Bucky's secure embrace or listening to his voice guiding you back to yourself, you like to be reminded that you're safe, that you'll never go back to that dark place from before.
D = EVOTED [How devoted are they in a relationship?]
I think it's safe to say very devoted. For a very long while, Bucky thought that he would never be able to invite someone into his life in the way he invited you in. It was never a choice he made, not really. From the moment he met you, that was it. Love songs made sense. Love stories seemed plausible. Something clicked into place the day he met you. You had him mind, body, and soul.
It's definitely safe to say very devoted.
E = NDING [If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?]
After everything you two endured together, it would have to be something massive cause a break up. Like you Blipped and Bucky didn't - that sort of massive.
Infidelity is practically a cardinal sin to Bucky, and your attachment and abandonment issues make it pretty hard to be vulnerable and intimate the way you are with Bucky with just anyone. Growing apart or falling out of love seem so unlikely. Considering you've seen each other at your very best and very worst, you've truly become each other's partners in everything.
If you were to break up with him, he would bear it if it would make you happy, but he doesn't truly think he could take it.
And if he truly had to break up with you for the sake of this sick hypothetical, it would be the most difficult thing he had to do like he would only really do it if your life was hanging in the balance. But if he really had to, it would be very gentle, 'it's not you, it's me' sort of thing. He also would most definitely have to brace for the beat down of his life from Sam.
F = UTURE [What is their ideal future with an s/o? Marriage? How would they be domesticly?]
A quiet, peaceful life. The picture of domesticity. A white picket fence, a beautiful house, the kind with a big backyard and a tree swing in the front yard. Possibly overlooking a lake.
Bucky's from the 1940's, he most definitely envisions himself married, probably some kids, your dog and cat cozied up with you two on the front porch. He pictures growing old with you.
G = ENTLE [How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?]
Bucky is the depiction of the Grumpy One is only soft for the Sunshine One. He is not a very patient nor warm person, but there's something about coming home to his Sunshine that melts that cold exterior of his. Physically, he can be very reserved with his touch. Even though he's seen you fight off some of the world's most heinous villains, he still is so terrified of accidentally hurting you. It's taken some time, okay, maybe a lot of time, but he's slowly learning to ease up and relax a little bit more.
You're very gentle emotionally. You like to make Bucky to smile, to make sure he feels safe and wanted. Physically, you're not necessarily not gentle, but you're definitely not reserved with your touch. You're not rough with him, but you know without your powers, you stand very little chance of physically hurting him. While you're most certainly not aggressive with him, you're definitely not the most gentle. For example, you have no qualms about bounding into his arms, draping yourself on him as he's sitting on the couch after a long, hard day, things like that. Bucky doesn't mind it, not one bit.
H = UGS [Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?]
You hug everyone. All the time. You're a great hugger. Everyone tells you that.
The first time you gave Bucky a hug, something broke inside of him. He's like 99% sure of that. He couldn't remember the last time someone just held him. Part of him felt like sobbing. Another part wanted to burrow his face into your hair. The other, other part was incredibly freaked out. What actually ended up happening was he just stood there like an idiot until he had the good sense to pick his arms up and return the hug.
I = NTUNE [How intune are they with their s/o's emotions? Can they read their s/o well?]
Bucky can read you very, very well. It helps that you're very open and probably the most honest person he knows. He also knows for all that honesty, you don't like to say when you're having a hard time.
And for how well Bucky can read you, you can read him just as well. You know when to push, when to leave him alone, when he just needs support.
You both balance each other out. It's why you work so well.
J = EALOUSY [How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?]
You are far more jealous than Bucky. Everyone finds that shocking. It's not really out of fear that Bucky would ever be unfaithful to you, but more of your own abandonment issues.
Bucky can be slightly jealous, but he knows deep down he doesn't have anything to worry about. One of the things Bucky likes best about you is that you see the best in people, which means you can be a little oblivious to when people are flirting with you. You have a habit of thinking that everyone is just being extra nice.
K = ISSES [Good kisser? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?]
This was a big insecurity of yours. Bucky was your first, well, your first everything. Including your first kiss.
Your lack of experience wasn't always an insecurity, Bucky never gave you any indication that he had a problem with it. It wasn't until you started hearing stories about 1940's Bucky Barnes, all his charisma, his charm, and his revolving door of suitors that your mind started to wander. Sure, some of it was embellished, but you couldn't shake the feeling that this might one day be a problem for him, that one day he'd get bored, or you'd do something wrong.
When you voiced these concerns, he assured you over and over that there was absolutely nothing wrong with you.
And he might've told you that you were free to practice on him whenever you wanted.
L = LOVE LANGUAGE [What is their love language? Gift giving? Quality time?]
Bucky's love language is acts of service and touch. He was deprived of kindness and warmth for so long that there's a part of him that really craves those things. He is selective about who he lets touch him, but there's something about your touch that is so much more fulfilling than anyone else's. He also thinks there's no better way to express his love than through acts of service. Like the saying goes, actions speak louder than words, You haven't been able to sleep? Bucky will make sure that your bedding is freshly washed and extra cozy. Little things like that. You haven't eaten all day? Bucky will pick something up for you - only because you've not lifted his ban from the kitchen.
Your love language is words of affirmation and quality time. You are acutely aware of how fleeting moments truly are. You make it a point to tell Bucky that he makes you happy, how thankful you are for him, down to just liking the shirt he's wearing that day. You like the smile it always brings to his face. And with a hectic life, you sometimes just need an hour or to with Bucky, even just sitting on the couch together. You just want to be together.
M = MEMORIES [What are their favorite memories with their s/o or family?]
Some of Bucky's favorite memories of you usually fall into two categories: when you were 'just friends', all the longing gazes, the timid touches, all those firsts. The other category is the moments of quiet domesticity, when he comes home to find you curled up on the couch reading a book, when he cuddles underneath a quilt meant for a person half his size, tending to your plants as he watches you with unbridled fascination gleaming in his eyes.
Your favorite memories are those few and far moments when Bucky's usual stoic and serious expression falls away, when he's carefree and unburdened. Sometimes, you'll catch him napping on the couch with Alpine and just smile to yourself at how at peace he looks. Those are your favorite memories.
N = ICKNAMES [What do they call their partner?]
You're his Doll. He particularly likes the way you blush when he calls you 'Doll' in public.
You call Bucky all sorts of pet names: sweetie, honey, baby, sweetheart. You always take note of the ones that make Bucky's cheeks flush a little bit more.
O = PEN [When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?]
You tell everyone everything. You're very open and honest. You only hesitated to tell Bucky some of the darker parts of your past because you didn't want him to know that side of you, but still, you told him fairly early on.
Bucky's the exact opposite of that. He's not very open, he doesn't tell anyone anything. He doesn't even give his full name unless someone asks him. He knows too much of his past is out there, so he keeps what little is still not widely known fairly private. Until you came along.
You once told him you made a point not to go out and search for any information on him. You told him that you wanted to hear it from him. He found that he really liked telling you those things about himself, even those darker points in his life, getting to tell you in his own time, in his own way, in the way he actually lived it. It felt like a weight off his chest. It felt like he was getting that part of his life back.
P = ATIENCE [How easily angered are they?]
Bucky is not a patient person. No if, and's, or but's about it.
Q = UALITY TIME [How would they spend time with a partner? What are dates like?]
Quality time in your normal routine usually consists of resting together, napping, cuddling up on the couch, mostly decompressing from the strain of your work life.
On the rare occasion, Bucky does enjoy to plan an actual date night. Some times, it's a bit more elaborate. Still, he knows you can never go wrong on a wine and dine sort of night.
R = ANDOM HEADCANON
Bucky refused to learn to text until you offhandedly mentioned that you wanted to learn. He'll never admit it, but he only learned because you wanted to. So he made Sam teach him. And as much as he hated it, he learned so he could talk to you.
You use a lot of emojis. Like a lot.
S = ECURITY [How protective are they?]
As your relationship progressed, Bucky became simultaneously more and less protective of you. Logically, he knows you can take care of yourself. And as time went on, he saw it firsthand, time and time again. Also as time went on, he knows how much you avoid conflict, just how willing you are to pull punches because you believe in the good of people. It's heartwarming, sure. It also makes him want to protect you so much more.
You're very protective of Bucky. Always have been. Always will be. You figure that he's had to fight enough in the years before you knew him, it's time for someone else do the fighting for him.
T = TINY ONES [How do they feel about kids? How would they act with kids?]
You both love the idea of having kids someday. It's definitely apart of your plans for the future.
You're the team's go to babysitter. Morgan loves watching Disney movies with you. Sam's sister, Sarah, jokes that AJ and Cass like you more than they like Sam.
U = UPSET [How do they act after a fight? Would they be the first to apologize?]
You don't fight very often, but it does happen, contrary to popular belief.
One of the biggest perks of living with Sam all that time ago is that you've learned how to set very clear boundaries on things like fights.
For example, after your very first big fight, Bucky walked out the door to cool off. He didn't even leave the building, just went to stew in the training room. He came back to find you shaking in the exact spot he left you. That was a very clear boundary you set. Neither of you could leave without saying where you were going and how long you would be gone, especially after a fight.
He doesn't like yelling, it's an awful trigger for him. Another boundary set. It was a lot of learning as you go, but it makes resolving issues easier.
V = ALUE [How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?]
You prioritize the people in your life. More than anything else. Your team. Your friends. Your relationship. The people in your life are what bring you happiness. It makes things a whole lot easier to prioritize considering there's an almost 100% overlap between all three groups. While you make sure to give enough time to your friends, you definitely prioritize your relationship.
Bucky is similar, though quite a bit more selective about who he considers important to him. He's got a few close friends. Two best friends. And you. He's more than happy to give you all the time and energy you want from him.
W = HOLE [Would they feel incomplete without you? What is their worst fear, what causes a hole in their heart?]
Yes, you would both feel incomplete without each other. There's a reason that you just clicked with each other. There's a part of you that is Bucky. Just like there's a part of Bucky that is only you.
You both have a lot of trauma and issues of your own. You both struggle with PTSD, but it manifests in vastly different ways.
For you, you fear abandonment, being alone, being locked away again. You get very jittery waking up alone or if he leaves without telling you where he's going or when he'll be back.
For Bucky, he worries that one day his past will become too much for you. That one day, you'll tire of not being able to walk down the street with him without a random stranger glaring at him. He worries that one day, you won't see Bucky, you'll see the Winter Soldier.
X = XENOS [What is something about them that is strange? Something that most wouldn't like]
If you're being honest with yourselves, there's a lot that's strange about you and Bucky, both as individuals and as a couple. Enhanced individuals. Incredibly dangerous line of work. Traumatic backgrounds. Take your pick.
For as many supporters that you have, there's also plenty of people that think that you and Bucky are just entirely incompatible. He's always walking around with a stoic expression. You're with a bright smile. Even hand in hand, people think Bucky is cold to you. You don't mind it, and you're not going to ask him to change to please other people.
Y = ANK [What do they do that makes their partner mad? That makes one wanna yank they ass?]
You get really, really mad when Bucky comes home hurt. Especially when it was because he did something reckless.
You'll tend to his wounds, that's not your problem.
You're not even really mad at him. You're just upset. Unless, of course, he did something reckless and unnecessarily put himself in harm's way, then, yes, you will be mad at him. You understand that there was some inherent risk in your line of work, but still, there's nothing that gets under your skin like seeing a gash on his cheekbone or a laceration above his brilliant blue eyes. It makes you mad.
Z = ZZZ [What are their sleeping habits? Do they snore? Is the schedule fucked up?]
What do you get when you put not one but two deeply traumatized insomniacs, both with irregular work schedules, and very little spare time? Well, the answer is a very messed up sleep schedule. Over time, you've both gotten better about going to bed and at least trying to sleep and slowly you've worked towards something that resembles a good night's sleep, but it definitely wasn't easy for either of you.
And yes, you snore. You also talk in your sleep. You vehemently deny both.
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rekindling the flame - chapter 1
Hey everybody! So this is that rami x reader (with a dash of freddie feels) I was talking about earlier! It’s not done, so I guess this is chapter 1? I’ve never cut a fic into chapters before because I’m a stubborn perfectionist but like. Eh. Ya know? Thanks to everyone who told me to go ahead and post this! Also, if anybody would be interested in a tag list, hit me up. I’ve never done one before but I think I can grasp the concept, haha! Anyways, here we go! (pls let me know if you like it, fr)
-description-
You're the daughter of Jim Hutton, so growing up was a roller coaster. With Freddie as practically a second father, things were never boring. But time passed and things changed. Everything changed. Not knowing how to process any of your past, you flee to the states in an attempt to write music and find yourself. It pretty much turns into instant isolation! That all changes when you get a call from your Uncle Bri about a movie being made on Freddie. Secrets come to light and you just might find yourself falling in love with the boy with the beautiful eyes along the way.
-word count- 2,987
ao3 link
You’re alone when you get the call. You’re alone a lot these days, but you work best without the distraction of friends pulling you out to party and get drunk every other night. Besides, you really want to focus on this latest song you’ve been writing. You just can’t seem to get the bridge right, the chord progression is off in the tiniest way and for the life of you, you can’t figure out why. Suffice to say it’s been driving you absolutely mad.
Your eyes light up when you strum the new experimental chord you’ve thrown in, but you’re interrupted by the harsh ringtone of your cell.
“Goddammit” you mumble to yourself and sigh as you put your guitar down on top of its case. You look over and feel yourself involuntarily smiling at the contact name. It’s Uncle Bri, you wonder what he’s up to these days. It’s been a while since you’ve heard from him. Too long, actually. That’s hardly his fault, you’re aware of the fact that you’re isolating yourself but you really can’t really garner up the energy to care, as bad as it sounds. You pull yourself out of your thoughts and reach over to answer the phone.
“Hey, Uncle Bri!”
“(y/n)! I’m glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing, my dear? We miss you!”
“Aww, I miss you guys too! I can’t complain! I’ve been working on my music a lot, so that’s been taking up the majority of my life at the moment” you sigh, suddenly wishing you’d have managed your time better. You really do miss your goofy Uncles.
“Ahhh, just like good ol’ Freddie, I see” you can hear the smile toying with his voice.
“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that”
“Well, I would,” he says triumphantly. “Anyways, do you have any serious, unmovable plans for the next, oh, say 8 or so months?” you can hear the grin in his voice.
“Um, not that I know of...” you say, although it comes out more as of a question
“Perfect! Then I’ll be flying you over here to the UK pronto. You’ve got work to do” he says and hangs up in a haste.
You pull the phone down and stare at it. That was. Odd.
It’s not until later you realize that this is all for that movie that you’ve been hearing rumors about for months. You weren’t sure if it was actually happening or not, you feel like you definitely should have considering who you are, but Uncle Bri certainly wouldn’t be uprooting your life for anything unimportant. You’ve settled into a nice routine over in the states. For a movie this important though, this central to who you are, you’d be upset if you weren’t involved.
~~~~
If you were being completely honest with yourself, you don’t remember as much about your father’s partner as you wish you did. Let’s be real though, he was practically your second dad, he raised you until you were almost seven. You have faint memories of calling him papa. Your dad didn’t love it at first, he was probably worried about what Freddie thought. He, of course, absolutely adored it and as well as he adored you. So, papa, he was.
The memories you do have, you wouldn’t trade for the world. For the entire world. Some of your favorites were Freddie making you breakfast and cuddling on the couch. He would always read to you before bed and find your favorite stuffed bear before tucking you in and pecking your forehead. Sometimes, your favorite nights, he would sing you to sleep. You were probably too old for lullabies, but Freddie never failed to deliver, not even towards the end. His favorite song to sing you was I Was Born to Love You. He sang it slow and soft, making sure you took every word to heart. Sometimes you dream about it, wishing for just one more day together with the two of them.
You don’t have much to do on the hellish flight ahead of you, so you pull up the folder you keep on your phone of pictures of your dad and Freddie. They looked just as happy as they were. You smile as you scroll through them, pictures the world hasn’t seen. Pictures of the two with their cats, pictures of all three of you together.
You feel your eyes mist up when you get to one of your favorites. At first glance, it appears to be the most mundane thing in the world, but to you it’s everything. Freddie’s balancing you on his hip and he’s got his other arm wrapped around your father, kissing his cheek.
“Oh, fuck” you mutter under your breath, tearing yourself away from the grainy image. You’re finally realizing just how difficult consulting on this movie is actually going to be. You miss your dad and you miss Freddie more than words can say.
You never really dealt with your fathers' death nearly a decade ago. Freddie’s death probably messed you up in more ways that you’re even able to conceptualize because you were so young at the time. He was just a part of you. A part of your history. A part of who you were and who you are.
You’ve got a lot of shit to work through, and god, you hope you’ll be able to hold it together for just a while longer. This movie is important to the two most important people to you. You’re certainly not going to ruin your chance at making it the best it can be because you can’t look at the main character of the film without losing it.
You swallow the lump in your throat and reach down to rummage through your bag for your headphones. You close the photos app and pull up Spotify instead. Zoning out and distracting yourself with music is always how you’ve dealt with the brunt of your emotional issues since practically the beginning of time. The second the first note rings out, you feel a weight lift off of your shoulders and you sigh in relief as you settle in for a long ride.
~~~
You’re pretty damn sure that finally getting off the stuffy plane and stretching your legs is the best feeling in the world. You’re instantly proven wrong though when you spot your uncles waiting for you. They’ve got a dorky sign with “(y/n) Hutton” scrawled across it with a few shaky hearts at the bottom. You can’t help but chuckle, your heart swelling at the gesture.
You quicken your pace and when they notice you barreling towards them, your clunky bags in tow, their faces light up. Their sign and your suitcases are instantly ditched in place of Uncle Rog opening his arms up for you to crash into. Of course, you do, without a second thought and you hold on tight. It feels like if you don’t, he’ll disappear right out from under you.
“Oh, love, how are you? How are you, really?” Uncle Rog says, pulling you away from him to study your face. You sheepishly avoid eye contact, aware that these two know you better than most.
“You know, we do worry about you. More than you think.” Uncle Bri chimes in, responding to your silence. He then reaches over and takes his turn to pull you into a hug. You close your eyes and bury your head in his shoulder. You barely muster the strength needed to keep your voice from shaking.
“I know. I just missed you guys, is all” you break away and get your bearings together. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the two sharing a skeptical glance, but luckily they drop it for now.
~~~
To say the studio was huge would be an understatement. You’d never dealt with anything this major in your entire life, sure you’d been going to your Uncle’s concerts since you were little. That was different though, that was second nature. Music has always been second nature. This? This is a different world, man. There are more… rules. You’ve never been one for rules.
So far, you’ve been introduced to a lot of the key players in the movie, big execs and such. They’ve all been very graceful and polite if not slightly intimidated by you, which you find hilarious. You still haven’t met any of the actors yet, but you’d been given their names and have already done extensive googling. They all seem like the perfect people for the parts.
You’d actually seen a bit of Rami, Freddie’s actor’s, work in the past. The Night at the Museum trilogy is a goddamn classic and your friends have forced you to watch a couple of episodes of Mr. Robot. So you’re definitely excited, if not a little nervous, to meet the boys.
It’s almost like the universe can read your mind because when you and your uncles turn the corner, there they are. You can tell they’ve met before because Rami, and if you remember correctly, Joe are waving and they all walk over.
“(y/n), you haven’t met the boys yet, have you?” Uncle Bri asks, and before you have the time to answer, he’s introducing you to them respectively. You do your best to remember who is who, it shouldn’t be too hard but this would not be a great situation to slip up. There’s Ben, Joe, Gwilym, and finally, you reach Rami.
His eyes are even more striking in person. You think he’s saying something but you can’t hear a word of it. A poke on your shoulder pulls you out of your trance and you realize you’ve been staring at him for a longer amount of time than would be considered socially acceptable. You glance over at Uncle Bri, a thanks for snapping you out of whatever that was.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry! Zoned out there for a second, it was a long flight” you grin and do your best to sound casual but you’re definitely rattled from your mistake. You almost let out a sigh of relief when you see Rami’s warm smile.
“Don’t worry about it, I totally understand. You flew in from the states, right? That ten-hour flight can be brutal” you nod and he continues. “Anyways, I was just saying how much of an honor it is to be playing Freddie and if there’s anything you ever need or want to talk in regards of the script or characterization, I’m always here. You probably have more influence than me when it comes to that actually, but the offer is always on the table! The same goes for all of us.” He gestures at his castmates and they all nod accordingly. He sounds incredibly sincere and it’s impossible not to grin.
“I really appreciate that, guys. I’m here if any of you need anything too! If you need help going over your lines or if you have any questions about my uncles, dad or my experience with Freddie as a father figure, I’d be more than happy to let you in on everything I know” You’re not, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but why else are you here?
You hear a chorus of thank you’s and wave at them as they rush off to hair and makeup, already late. You look down and try to swallow a smile, you’d be lying to yourself if you tried to pretend it wasn’t endearing. The three of you continue down your path and you feel Uncle Rog bump into you.
“You okay, (y/n)?” he says, trying poorly to hide his shit-eating grin. Oh god, what does he think he knows now?
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired…” you taper off when you notice the look the two give each other.
“Okaaay, whatever you say,” he says in a sing-songy voice. You groan and roll your eyes.
“Well I don’t know about you two, but I’m gonna go explore the set,” you say, trying to get a minute to yourself. It’s just all been a little overwhelming and the last thing you need is your uncles scheming over whatever it is they’re scheming over because if there’s anything you know, it’s that look.
“Have fun, love. We’ll be here if you need us” Uncle Bri reminds you for the thousandth time. You thank him and wander off on your own.
~~~
As the days go by, you fall into a routine. They don’t need you there at a specific time so you definitely consider yourself lucky in that regard. All of the actors have to be at hair and makeup typically at around 6. You shuffle in at a comfortable 10, say hi to anyone who isn’t currently working on a scene, and hide away in one of the back rooms with the writers.
The script has already been put out of course, but they still meet every day to talk about potential revisions or go over their work with the rest of the cast and crew. While definitely on different sides of the globe from each other, what they do isn’t very far from what you do. At least it’s on the same planet. Which would be a first in this new world of Hollywood. So you’d say things are going pretty smoothly. You haven’t yet had to dig deep and reveal anything about yourself or your history that you didn’t want to.
Of course, though, the universe can’t let you stay comfortable for very long. It needs to have its fun in throwing you for a loop just once you think you’ve got things figured out. This loop comes in the form of none other than Rami Malek. At first, that is.
It starts like any other day. You come into the studio in your baggy hoodie, with your messy hair strewn everywhere, and your headphones in with the volume up as loud as it will go. You yawn and scrub at your eyes. You were up pretty late working on that same damn song, it’s just been eating away at you. The day you figure out how that bridge works will be a goddamn national holiday in your book. You groan and continue down the winding hallways.
When Rami comes up behind you and taps your shoulder, you jump out of your skin and your soul just about leaves your body. You rip your headphones out and turn around to see him giggling like a toddler and you gasp, grasping your chest dramatically.
Your heart flutters at the carefree expression on his face and you swallow down and try to ignore the emotions so obviously bubbling up to the surface. You can’t help but stare though, it’s not your fault that he’s absolutely breathtaking. You’re confident that his jawline could cut steel. This time, your admiration slides and he doesn’t notice because he’s still pulling himself together after the little incident.
He’s wearing Freddie’s angry lizard jacket and he’s got the fake teeth in. He’s the spitting image of Freddie and it honestly would have been a little jarring if it weren’t for him being so warm and open, squashing any possible nerves you may have before they even have the time to fully form.
“Sorry!” he chokes out, swallowing the last of his giggles. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you heard me walking up, but I guess not,” he says and gestures at your headphones dangling down and twirling together.
“Jesus Christ, Rami. You do know that you almost killed me, right? I literally almost died right here!” you say, still playing it up a little bit. You can’t keep a straight face for long though and break eye contact to laugh under your breath. “Anyways, what’s up? I haven’t seen you in a while! You look great, I must say” you point out, referencing the outfit.
“I always look great, darling,” he says, putting on Freddie’s accent. You raise your arms in surrender and he shoots you a grin. Suddenly he’s Rami again, just like that. “So I’ve got that one big scene tomorrow and I feel like something is off with my performance and I just can’t put my finger on it. I was wondering if you were free later tonight after we’re done shooting to go over the script with me?” you’re not sure if he’s doing it on purpose, but he’s giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen.
“Oh, I know that feeling,” you say, thinking back to your stupid song. Maybe you can play it for him and get his input? You quickly brush off the thought, this is about him, not you. “And of course! I’d love to!” You can’t even pretend you aren’t honored and a little excited to see him later. Even though you’ve fallen in love with your little routine, you have a real soft spot for this boy.
“Perfect! I can’t wait to see you then” he waves as he walks off. You wave back and once he’s turned the corner, you can’t contain your giddiness. Before you know it, you’re hopping and -hopefully- internally squealing like a schoolgirl. He’s just so cute, okay? It’s not fair. It shouldn’t be legal.
~~~
You spend the rest of your day curled up in the bean bag chair in the corner of the writers' room going over a thousand different scenarios in your head, both eagerly and anxiously awaiting the end of filming. You’ve really been thrown for a loop here, going from total isolation to the midst of practically a high school crush. You’re not even entirely sure why, there’s just something about him. You’re not quite sure whether you like it or not, but there’s one thing you do know. Denying it won’t get you anywhere, you’ve been down that road before.
#rami malek x reader#rami malek x you#rami malek reader insert#rami malek imagine#freddie mercury x reader#freddie mercury x you#freddie mercury imagine#freddie mercury reader insert#but like as a father figure#jim hutton x reader#brian may x reader#brian may reader insert#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor reader insert#bohemian rhapsody#queen fanfic#queen fanfiction#bohemian rhapsody cast fanfic#bohemian rhapsody cast fanfiction#bohemian rhapsody cast
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Eddit : creddit for this meme to @beatlemaniac00
#x reader#name insert#self shipping#shipping#self insert#y/n#i wish everyone a very pleasant#memes#me to sis#celebrity crush#brian may#roger taylor#john deacon#freddie Mercury#queen#doctor who#classic doctor who#jon pertwee#david tennant#matt smith#peter capaldi#sherlock#benedict cumberbatch#lotr#the hobbit#fandoms#fandom musings#not mine found this on pinterest
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*not my image, found on facebook*
Was just too perfect not to share.
#6 underground#joe mazzello#dylan o'brien#gallavich#ben hardy#jeremy allen white#Roger Taylor#Brian May#Freddie Mercury#John Deacon#Gwilym Lee#Rami Malek#ben hardy x reader smut#ben hardy x reader#joe mazzello x reader#reader insert#Roger Taylor x reader#Roger Taylor x reader smut#Brian May x reader#John Deacon x reader
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Our Lights
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader
Word Count: — 2,617 (with lyrics)
Warnings: just cuteness, so much adorable fluff and happy feels
Summary: Steve looks dazzling under Christmas lights. Seeing him there, you can’t help but feel how madly in love with him you are - and how much you want to spend everyday with him under the lights.
A/N: this was requested by @tinystark-blog quite a while ago (a StevexF!Reader to 'Lover' by Taylor Swift)- life got in the way I’m sorry. However I hope this fills your heart a little, lovers.
P.S I left details about some environments/scenes vague so that you could imagine it how you want it.
P.P.S. I haven’t written anything for over a year, I think I’m a bit rusty. Apologies.
We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January
This is our place, we make the rules
And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear
Have I known you twenty seconds, or twenty years?
The quiet of your house was nearly deafening. Christmas Day was always a large celebration growing up, and it only expanded when you and Steve became an item. The morning was reserved for your family, who took to Steve like bees to honey - and you couldn’t blame them. He radiated something mysterious and warm, he made anywhere feel like home. There was always laughter and smiles, funny photos, and family games on Christmas morning.
Lunch time was reserved for cleaning up, and then preparing for the other half of the family to arrive. You had just finished putting the final touches on the dining table spread in preparation for dinner when you heard the roar of Bucky’s motorcycle pull up outside. Steve’s eyes flitted to the window, a smile radiating across his face when he spotted his best friend. With a quick kiss on your cheek, he opened the front door and crossed the porch in large strides to pull his friend into a tight embrace.
Eventually the whole team had arrived, Scott and Clint with their families in tow, and celebrations began. More laughter echoed off the halls of the home you and Steve shared and conversation over dinner was effortlessly flowing. You reached your hand across the small distance and clasped Steve’s, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Once everyone had gone home, you caught Steve in the living room staring up at the lights along the walls, casting a golden glow on the pictures.
“I still remember Christmas day coming and going as a kid. We tried to make it special, but there was only so much we could do as a family back then. I never thought I would get to experience anything like this.” His voice was low and soft, you could hear the sad undercurrent to his words.
You slowly moved around the living room, allowing yourself to make small noises against furniture so Steve knew you were approaching. You wrapped your arms around him from behind, nuzzling your cheek into his back. You could hear his heart beating still.
You heard him take a deep breath in before a long sigh, his hands clasping over yours. “It’ll be a shame to see it all disappear tomorrow, just like that.” He began to lightly trace his fingers over the top of your hand in a mindless pattern.
“It doesn’t have to come down. It’s our house, we can do whatever we like here. If we want the lights to stay up, then they shall stay up. End of story.” You shrugged a little, letting your words drift into silence.
You felt a small chuckle vibrate through his chest before he slowly turned to face you. The golden glow of the lights cast his eyes in the most brilliantly deep shade of blue, and his cheeks flushed ever so slightly pink as his hand lightly rested on your hip and the other clasped your hand. “Care to dance, love?” His eyes shone as warmth filled your body. “Always with you.”
Can I go where you go?
Can we always be this close forever and ever?
And ah, take me out and take me home
You're my, my, my, my
Lover
The two of you began to gently sway as Steve hummed a tune, and you rested your head against his chest. You could smell the subtle scent of his cologne mixed in with his soap. He gently moved the two of you apart to slowly spin you under his arm, a large smile appearing on his face. As you moved back towards him, he gently dipped you low before pulling you back up into his arms. There was hardly any space between the two of you as you swayed in circles around your living room under the lights.
You didn’t need words to understand each other. You slowly leaned your face up to his as your eyes closed, feeling his lips gently brush against yours. His lips were soft and warm, giving the kind of kiss that simultaneously stops and steals time. The kind of kiss where you forget to breathe. The kind of kiss only lovers can give.
We could let our friends crash in the living room
This is our place, we make the call
And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you
I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all
When you and Steve bought the house and moved in, it quickly became the place where every major celebration happened. It was a home for everyone where each member of the Avengers was able to not be an Avenger. They could be themselves - no crime, no politics, no prying eyes, no wounds and scars. In the walls of this home, everyone was family. As New Years Eve crept up, you prepared the various spare rooms and spots with mattresses and bedding to accommodate those who would come to celebrate and then stay the night.
As midnight neared, you all gathered in the living room to countdown to the TV program. You glanced around the room at everyone’s various celebratory costumes - colourful beads draping off of everyone’s necks, funny glasses on some, hats on others - before your eyes finally rested on Steve who was standing in the corner talking with Bucky. As you neared, you could hear them recalling previous new years celebrations back in the 40’s - particularly Bucky laughing about the time they had dates and Steve had stood on the poor girl’s feet while they were all trying to dance. Steve shook his head, a smirk hidden as he took a sip of his drink.
Sometimes it was easy to forget that Steve had an entirely different life before you even existed. You had tried to picture that version of Steve many times, but there were hardly any pictures from his life before the serum. The only Steve you knew was the one in front of you and you knew that if he was anything then like he was now, it was some insurmountable twist of fate that your paths could cross and he somehow chose you. You could feel the sadness creep up in the depths of your stomach, mixed with guilt for feeling slightly jealous over a life that you knew Steve still mourned and couldn’t return to.
As the clock began counting down the last ten seconds of the year, Steve sauntered over to you and pulled you into his side. He leaned down and whispered in your ear, his breath tickling your neck. “Could I be so honoured as to kiss you at midnight?”
You peered up at him, noting his playful smile. Being in his arms, your small moments of sadness and guilt washed away. “Do I only get one kiss at midnight?” You clasped your hands behind his neck, pushing up onto your tiptoes as the countdown neared zero.
“You can have them all, forever.” Steve eagerly pressed his lips against yours, pulling your bodies tightly together as celebrations rang out around you. You regretfully pulled yourselves apart, however Steve did not let go.
Can I go where you go?
Can we always be this close forever and ever?
And ah, take me out and take me home (Forever and ever)
You're my, my, my, my
Lover
“I meant what I said (Y/N). You can have all of me for as long as you’ll have me, which I hope is forever.” His eyes never moved away from yours, and you hardly took notice of the ruckus going on around you.
You didn’t even feel him move as a small, velvet box appeared in your periphery. Your heart began racing as he opened the box and moved down onto one knee. You could feel all eyes on you, but all you could see was Steve.
“I love you (Y/N), and I have from the moment I laid eyes on you. You are my present, and my future, and I hope you will do me the honour of becoming my wife. (Y/N), will you marry me?”
You could hardly breathe, your mind was scrambling to form any coherent answer. Instead, you crushed your body against his, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips met his feverishly. You could feel him regain balance, wrapping his arms around your waist. You pulled back, punctuating your sentence with kisses over his face “yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”
Cheers rang out through your living room, everyone taking turns hugging the two of you and sharing in their congratulations. Steve gently slid the ring onto your finger before he kissed your hand, “happy new year, future Mrs Rogers.”
You glanced down at the ring on your finger, seeing it glisten under the Christmas lights, as you intertwined your fingers with Steve’s. The smile you two shared said it all.
Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?
With every guitar string scar on my hand
I take this magnetic force of a man to be my
Lover
My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue
All's well that ends well to end up with you
Swear to be over-dramatic and true to my
Lover
The soft sounds of the piano started bouncing off the walls, beckoning you closer to the doors. You had opted out of having traditional ‘wedding parties’, instead opting for one person each - Wanda on your side and Bucky on his. You could see his outline through the doors, waiting for you at the altar.
You fixed your veil for the hundredth time just as the doors slowly swung open, the sounds of the piano enveloping you. Steve had his back to you, but you could see his shoulders tense as he prepared himself. The photographer crept down the aisle, before moving to a position to get the first time Steve would see you in your wedding dress. He had chosen a navy blue suit, which no doubt would match his eyes, and he stood out against the hall of white gossamer curtains framing the walls.
You thought to yourself how you had put forth the idea of eloping, avoiding the stress of wedding planning, and it was Steve who painted a picture of the two of you walking this very aisle. A dream come to life.
You gently tapped his shoulder, although he knew you were there. Slowly he turned, and you could see his eyes glistening as he held his hand out.
You handed your bouquet to Wanda as you clasped his outstretched hand, the single touch filling you with warmth. You took your places at the altar as the piano tune slowly drifted into silence. As he removed your veil, you could see a small tear escape down his cheek. Without thinking, you reached up and gently swiped it away - “hey there, I don’t think I look that bad” you jested, aching to see him laugh. He gently grabbed your hand, kissing the tips of your fingers and then your palm. “Hey doll, I think I might just be the luckiest man in the world to get to stand here with you.” He gave you a little wink as the officiant began speaking, but all you could think was how much you wanted to kiss him at that moment.
You both had managed to hold it together until it was time for the vows. As soon as Steve started speaking, your resolve broke and you found yourself furiously patting away at your face with the tissue Wanda handed to you. While you read your vows to Steve, you could see tears escaping his eyes each time you looked up at him from your notes.
Then came the words you had been waiting for - you were now Mr and Mrs Rogers. Cheers rang out through the hall as Steve wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in. Your lips crashed together as he lifted you off the ground and spun you around. You could barely pull yourself away from him to begin walking out of the hall, unable to tear your eyes away from him as your guests lined the exit with sparklers for the two of you to walk under.
Both of you were bathed in the light from the sparklers, leaving you awestruck when you looked over at Steve and how the light bounced off his features, his eyes deep sapphire in colour, and his smile achingly beautiful.
And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me
And at every table, I'll save you a seat
Lover
Walking into your reception, you almost wished that it could be over so you could go home alone with Steve as husband and wife for the first time. Everyone whooped and hollered, flashes from photos going off as the music started up. You both wanted a casual reception and since it was a small wedding, it wound up feeling like any other family event you would have in the house.
You all shared tears of laughter and happiness through the various speeches, regaling stories of your childhood and hearing stories from Tony and Bucky about life with Steve before the two of you met. Although you’d all heard them before, you had somehow discovered a new depth in which you could love this man and your life with him. As the two of you sat side by side, your hands remained intertwined for the remainder of the reception, and sweet musings of love whispered between the two of you like secret notes passed in class.
Can I go where you go?
Can we always be this close forever and ever?
And ah, take me out and take me home (Forever and ever)
You're my, my, my, my
Oh, you're my, my, my, my
Darling, you're my, my, my, my
Lover
Everyone filed out of the reception, leaving the two of you alone for the first time as husband and wife. Steve stood up and stretched his hand out to you, “care to dance, love?” His voice was soft, but the depth of love in it was overwhelming. You gazed up at him as you placed your hand in his, “always with you.”
The two of you walked onto the dancefloor as the pianist played one last song. You recognised it as the one Steve hums. Peering up at him, a little smirk crossed his face. “Google is incredible. Once I found the song I just had to ask her if she could learn it because all the notes were there.”
His hand rested on your hip as his other hand gently took yours. You began swaying gently back and forth, resting your head against his chest. You could smell his cologne mixing with his soap, a scent that you would forever associate with ‘home’. As you moved apart and spun under his arm, your eyes never left each other. Even as he dipped you low to the ground, the only thing that existed was the two of you.
Swaying slowly around in small circles, you moved forward and felt his lips gently press against yours. It was a slow and deliberate kind of kiss, the kind of kiss only lovers can give. You both opened your eyes, memorising the way you each looked under the golden glow of the Christmas lights strung up in the small reception hall.
You couldn't wait to look at him under Christmas lights for the rest of your lives.
#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers reader insert#stever rogers x reader#steve rogers request#reader insert#marvel#avengers#captain america#marvel reader insert#avengers reader insert#captain america reader insert#taylor swift song fic
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