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acciotwinz · 2 years

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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.

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blueeyedheizer · 3 years

Text

hotel room - four/billy (smut)

REQUEST: Billy or frank fake dating?? Maybe fluffy and a bit smutty?? Haha love your stuff💙

A/N: there isn't much fake dating but I tried to keep it fluffy and smutty. Thank you for requesting !

•••

"One room please." you smiled at the receptionist, feeling Four's hand on your waist pulling you closer. Taken aback by the sudden gesture, you had to fight the startled look on your face as you were forced to make eye contact with the woman in front of you.

"Would you like a single or a double room?"

"Single."

"Double."

Your eyes widened and you gave a discreet yet harsh kick to Four's foot, side-eyeing him with a cold glare.

"We'll take a single room. Thank you." Fortunately, the receptionist only chuckled as she typed on the computer, seemingly not finding your disagreement suspicious.

"Under what name?"

"Jones." you blurted out randomly. The receptionist then reached behind and grabbed a key off the wooden shelf before handing it over to you.

"Here's your key; room 305, second floor. Enjoy your stay!" you both thanked her and made your way to the stairs, Four's hand leaving your waist as soon as you were out of sight.

"Two rooms, are you serious?" you whisper-yelled.

"Hey, we never discussed that!"

"We're supposed to be a married couple, of course we're taking a single room!" you exclaimed, rolling your eyes as you reached your room. Four opened it and cautiously looked around to make sure no one was around before locking the door behind you.

You tossed your bag on the bed and rubbed the heel of your hand against your forehead in frustration. Four watched your reaction and let out an amused scoff.

"She's just the receptionist, Eight, it's not that big of a deal."

With one last glance his way and a tut you fell on the bed, sighing loudly. You were glad it had a decent amount of room for you both.

"We're inside. Room 305" Four spoke through his mic.

"Alright. Two and Three are room 280. I'm going in with Five." One's voice answered on the other side. There was a pause. "Hey, Four?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't have too much fun."

"Oh, fuck off." he mumbled, rolling his eyes before turning the mic off and tossing it on the bedside table. A slight tint of pink began to color his cheeks and he cleared his throat, trying to brush the thoughts that accompanied One's words from his mind.

"This has to be the worst idea One has come up with so far. Who the hell decides to spend a night in a hotel where some crazy psychopath is planning his next attack?!" you complained, rubbing your hand over your face and sighing loudly.

"Are you afraid?" Four asked and you stayed silent for a moment, sighing softly as you turned so that your back was facing him.

"Of course i'm afraid." you admitted. There was no point in denying it. "Who knows what he might do while everyone's asleep?" You felt Four sit on the bed and closed your eyes, dreading the conversation awaiting you. You hated showing your vulnerable side, especially now that you had joined the Underground; there was no room for weakness. But after all you were still human and very much alive, avoiding your fear wasn't the easiest part of the job.

"He's not going to do anything. We're tracking him, we know his every move. One gets an alert every time he leaves his room."

You shrugged in response, pouting as your hands hands slipped under your head on the pillow. You inhaled then exhaled deeply, trying to calm your nerves as you still weren't fully convinced.

"Hey, you're safe here. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise." you turned to lay on your back again and gave him a small smile, mentally apologizing for snapping at him.

"Promise you won't help him murder us in our sleep?" you joked and he let out a laugh, moving to lay down next to you.

"I'll spare your life, promise." he teased. You scrunched your nose at him, feigning a mocking expression before raising your eyes back to the ceiling, smiling. A couple of seconds went by and you felt him tentatively poke a finger into your side, causing you to jump.

"Don't even think about it, Four."

"What? You're ticklish?" he tried again and you slapped his hand away, biting down on your lips to try not to let any giggle out of your mouth.

"Fuck off!"

"You're ticklish."

Without warning he climbed over you, his legs on either side of you and pinning you to the bed as his fingers dug into your sides. You squealed and immediately burst out laughing, tears quickly forming in your eyes as you tried to push his hands away, squirming underneath him.

"Stop!" you shout between laughs as you tried to push him off, punching his chest with both hands. "I can't— breathe!"

"What? Isn't that what happy married couples do?"

"Fuck off! Stop, please!" He laughed at you and his hands eventually stilled, allowing you to catch your breath. But he didn’t move from his position, body hovering yours as he looked down at you with a grin. Your laughter gradually died down, both your smiles fading and cheeks heating up quickly as you suddenly became very aware of the proximity.

Four's eyes searched yours for a moment, looking for a sign that you and him both wanted the same thing. Your gaze darted back and forth between his eyes and his lips and you answered his unspoken question with a gentle nod, giving him your consent. Within the next seconds he leaned forward and pressed your lips together in a soft kiss, letting out a sigh of relief when you lips touched. You leaned up into the kiss, enjoying the feel of your lips moving in sync against each other, your breathing coming out slowly through your nose as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

By the time you parted from the kiss you were both panting, foreheads still pressed against one another as you smiled sweetly, a slight blush tinting your cheeks. Then Four leaned down again, kissing you once more before letting his lips move down to your jawline and neck.

You tilted your head back, capturing your bottom lip between your teeth when he nibbled on a particular spot, a soft moan leaving your mouth as your hands tangled in his hair.

"Can I touch you?" Four asked almost shyly, pulling back enough to look into your eyes. Your lips tilted up into a smile and you nodded your head, whispering the word "yes". Then you leaned your head up to close the gap between you again, your hands soon leaving his neck to unbutton and unzip your jeans just enough for him to slide his hand down into them.

"Shit..." you moaned out in a whisper, closing your eyes as his hand came in contact with your center, his fingers beginning to rub circles over your clit. Your hands moved behind his neck in response and your hips started to move, seeking more friction as you panted softly against his lips. Four tilted his head down to nip at your ear as he slipped his hand past your underwear and glided two fingers into you, effortlessly angling them just right and pumping them at the perfect pace, drawing a soft gasp out of you. You managed to tug your pants and underwear lower to give him easier access to your body, moaning as he pushed his fingers deeper in response.

It felt euphoric, the pleasure rapidly spreading to every nerve of your body. The coil in your stomach tightened embarrassingly fast, but you couldn’t care less at this point.

"Four, I— fuck." you tried to speak but all you could manage were whimpers and moans as your mind blurred with pleasure, your body tensing up as your right hand came to grip his hair while the other fisted onto the sheets. It didn't take long for you to continuously gasp and moan in the rhythm of his movements, and with a couple more thrust of his fingers you came with a drawn out cry, mouth falling open and head thrown back against the pillow, back arching while your fingers gripped the sheets. Four guided you through it all, whispering words of praise in your ear, kissing down your neck and only removing his fingers once you were completely finished.

You smiled as you calmed down from your high, your hands coming up to rest on his cheeks. Then you pulled him closer to you and reconnected your lips with his for a passionate kiss. His hand that wasn't holding him up above you went down to his belt, undoing it before pulling it off all while never breaking the kiss.

But before this could go any further, you were interrupted by three knocks on the door. You cursed under your breath, eyes growing wide in panic as you quickly pushed him off your body to get dressed. Four's expression mirrored your panicked one as he pulled his pants up and fixed his hair, trying his best not to look suspicious in case someone from the team was behind the door.

Then you ran to the bathroom and locked yourself there, running the shower water while Four answered the door.

About a minute later your heard the door close and cracked the bathroom door open, carefully peeping through the small gap before walking out.

"What was it?" you frowned, noticing the blush that was forming on Four's cheeks.

"Someone complained about the noise."

you froze, jaw dropping and gaping at him with wide eyes.

"But I— I..." you paused, unable to find a good combination of words. Then you let out a breath you were holding before speaking again. "...please tell me you're joking."

Four gave you a half amused, half apologetic smile as he shook his head which caused you to curse and hide your face in embarrassment. With a smile, he walked up to you and removed your hands from your face, chuckling before placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Do you think they believe in the married couple thing now?"

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy fanfic #billy/four #billy/four x reader #four/billy x reader #borhap x reader #borhap boys x reader #ben hardy smut #6 underground x reader #6 underground imagine #ben hardy imagine

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xtrashmammalstefx · 2 years

Text

Hey Fam I'm Fucking Salty! 🤬

As you all know I write fanfiction. To be specific oneshots that are either smut or fluff or a mix of both at times. I posted a Queen one shot a few months ago called 'March of the Black Queen' in which I included a very clear list of warnings. Well recently, after a bit of a hiatus, I got inspired to write again so I went through my old stuff to see where I left off in my Queen Repertoire series (where said one shot was). That is when I noticed that my one shot was GONE! Out of curiosity I went through my other works and discovered another story was also removed. I'm salty because I recieved no warning or notification from the tumblr moderators that they were going to do this exact thing. I mean I get some things aren't allowed here but GOD DAMMIT THEY COULD AT LEAST HAVE THE BALLS TO TELL ME TO TAKE THE STORIES DOWN INSTEAD OF DOING IT BEHIND MY FUCKING BACK!

Anyway since tumblr decided to pull this bullshit I have decided to change things up a bit. Since fluff is still okay I will continue to post those here. The smut, however, will from now on be posted on my AO3 account: silent_writer_stef. I will link the Queen Repertoire series once I've posted them there and will let you know as soon as they are up.

Thank you for be awesome my fellow readers and writers. If it weren't for you I wouldn't be fighting this bullshit fight.

Love u all,

xtrashmammalstefx

#tumblr #problems #fanfiction #smut #borhap #joe mazzello #imagine #hardzello #ben hardy #harry potter #joe mazello imagine #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fluff #douglas booth #zak bagans x reader #zak bagans imagine

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yelenasdog · 3 years

Text

𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐖𝐈 𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: wherever they go, it seems they can’t escape each other

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.09k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smoking, drinking, kissing, getting ~steamy~, but nothing explicit.

𝐚/𝐧: this kinda feels melodramatic at times, but over all i think this is an alright fic that took me forever LOL! i hope you enjoy it! btw,

this can be read as ben!rog or just rog, i just was thinking of ben!rog when i wrote it

also if u wanna listen to kiwi while listening, the vibes would be immaculate and i reccomend it :D kk enjoy

✺🎬✺

Her footsteps were mute as she padded forward on the concrete, searching furiously through her crochet bag. The box in her hands stayed tightly gripped though, Roger noted. He waited a bit until he was certain she had no chance of finding what he thought she was looking for, and that he would be her last resort.

“Need a light?”

He watched with careful eyes as the girl next to him fumbled about to pick out a cigarette from the nearly emptied box, probably just some cheap ones from the gas station near the dorms.

“Yes, thanks.”

The brunet nodded, bringing his forward to her’s and inhaling, a few loose embers falling to the ground in a sparkling orange flurry.

Roger observed the way her chipped nails on ring adorned fingers shakily held the cigarette as she brought it to her lips, taking a very long drag.

It was windy out that night (which was the reason he was telling himself he decided not to bother with his Zippo), her silky black dress doing barely a thing to keep her covered from the chilly temperatures. He noticed the blue tint to her formerly painted lips, only a pale stain of color left behind. He also happened to notice the goosebumps that graced her exposed arms and legs, and her slight shiver that came with it.

The girl nervously adjusted the twisted strap to her purse, sending a glance in Rog’s direction every once in a while, but mostly she kept her gaze fixed on the stars above. She seemed to be mesmerized by the way they twinkled so brightly, even in the polluted sky. The bottles of liquor in her purse clinked together, and she cringed visibly at the sound, a shiver being sent through her bones.

He smiled at her behavior, oddly endeared by it, perhaps even enchanted.

“What’s your name?”

She turned, taking the stick from between her lips. Roger kept his eyes glued to the plump flesh momentarily despite the movement away from the area.

“That’s none of your business, Roger.” She smiled, a playful look set ablaze in her eyes.

He looked down, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“How do you know my name, then?” He questioned curiously, slanting his eyes and quirking a brow.

“Your band.” Her voice seemed softer, almost a fond tone set within it.

“You’ve seen us play?”

“Yeah, you guys are good.”

“You’re a fan then?”

She chuckled, looking to her feet.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

He laughed, nodding yet again.

They stayed together for some time, silently and mutually agreeing that enough had been said. They finished off their smokes, and with that, she turned to go.

“Bye, Roger.”

He bit his lip, feeling the sting shoot through him. He was conflicted on if to make a move, not wanting to diminish his confident and cool reputation he believed he had built for himself. He settled for shouting something along the lines of “will I see you around?” (which upon thinking back over it, maybe it wasn’t that cool), to which she only shrugged and kept walking.

He could hear the bottles loudly clanking together as she sauntered off, lord knows where to. He watched her go until she turned the corner, tossing one final look in his direction before continuing on, leaving him in deep thought.

“I’m telling you, mate, she was drop dead gorgeous. And I have no idea who she is, no name or anything!”

Brian rolled his eyes, tossing his notebook across the room onto the yellow sofa Roger was resting on, turning his full attention to his distraught friend.

“Well, did you ask her for her name?”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes in a similar manner to Bri. “Yes, I did. She said it was ‘none of my business’.” He scoffed, twirling a single drumstick between his fingers while tapping his foot repeatedly, annoying Brian to no end (per usual). The curly headed man only barked out a laugh, finding the entire situation quite humorous, if he was being honest.

“But she knew the band! Said that she thought we were good. S’ like she couldn’t make up her damn mind.” He grumbled, slumping forward.

“Wait, she knows the band?”

The drummer looked at him like he had two heads nodding slowly.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Brian stood up and sighed, grabbing his guitar and headed to the edge of the bar’s stage, resting behind the curtain briefly.

“You really are thick, Roger.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” He joined him by the curtain, noticing Tim had come up behind the pair.

“What’s all this about, then?”

“Nothing.” Brian and Roger replied in unison. Tim huffed, making his way onto the stage where the growing crowd was waiting. Cheers could be heard for the frontman as he introduced himself, saying something about how the rest of the band would be out in a second, and that they were just having some “sound issues”.

“Rog, if she’s a fan, she’s probably here tonight, yes?”

His eyes widened, and he suddenly began to feel quite dumb, not that he would admit it.

“Yeah, I suppose so…but she said she wasn’t a fan?” He trailed off, confused.

“She probably was just saying that for some reason. I don’t know, women are odd, they like to play hard to get.” Brian commented, oddly flippant for how conflicting his statement was.

Roger stood in place for a moment, still greatly confused what Brian was trying to get at. He shook his head and furrowed his brows, trying to put together the puzzle of this mess in his mind.

“Roger, for God's sake, don’t think about it, just go.”

Following his advice, Roger did his best to disregard any previous thoughts of confusion, a switch flipping in his mind. He stood taller, saying, “You know what Bri, maybe you’re right.”

“Great, go on then.” He watched as Roger bounded out with a newfound adrenaline and a smile plastered on his face, rolling his eyes for what wouldn’t be the final time that night at his bandmate’s antics.

As soon as he had made it behind his kit, he was scanning the crowded room, trying to locate the girl from last night. He watched the door throughout the performance, trying to see if she might have just come in a bit late. He held the hope she would somehow show up with him in his mind, but all to no avail.

The entire night, he couldn’t shake the thought of her lips from his mind, or the way the skin of her neck was so open and exposed, practically begging for him to attack it with his own lips. And with the way things were going thus far, he was sure that pretty face of her’s would be the death of him, he was certain, in fact.

“Find her?” Bri had questioned almost as soon as they had ended for the night, the lot of them now working on cleaning up.

“Nah. She never showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Rog. Maybe you’ll see her again soon, the campus isn’t that huge, you know.” Roger’s mouth formed a thin line as he raised his eyebrows, not convinced in the slightest that the situation proposed would occur.

“At this point I’m wondering if she’s even a bloody student here.” Roger grumbled, obviously no longer feeling the initial electric adrenaline of the night's performance.

Brian frowned, placing a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder and patting it once or twice before standing to go finish packing up.

It was later now, and the boys were finally leaving the bar, bidding their goodbyes to those around them. Roger walked out the front (in what Tim and Brian joked was a ‘moping manner’), hearing the bell jangle above his head, ringing annoyingly in his ear. The cold air hit him like an arctic breeze (or a ton of bricks, he wasn’t sure which description was more fitting). He shook his head and blinked a few times, as if that would rid his body of the frigid feeling. He sighed dramatically and pulled his corduroy jacket tighter around himself, watching as his breath made a small cloud in front of him.

“Roger?”

He turned, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Having a pity party, are you?” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“It’s only me, so no. Not a party.”

She “ahh”-d in understanding, her mouth forming into a sly grin. Her lips were a pale pink color that night, her eyes a bright blue shade. And similarly to the night previous, she was graced with only a brown fringed dress, her matching boots in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.

“Then what would it be if I joined you?”

He stood in thought, tilting his head. “I think then, yeah, it would be a party.”

“Do you not get cold, ever?” He added after a beat of silence, observing her ill outfit choice for the frosty climate. She rolled her eyes, muttering out a brief “ha, ha.”

Roger couldn’t help but bite his lip, holding back a laugh.

“I do on occasion get a little bit chilly. But I like the feeling.”

He tilted his head, walking over to where she was leaning against the brick wall of the dive bar. He turned to face her, not that she noticed, putting his weight on the rough surface behind him.

“It makes me feel,” she hesitated, struggling to find the right word, although she felt it was right on the tip of her tongue.

“Alive?”

She finally met his eyes after what seemed like forever, softly nodding. To him, she looked like an angel in that moment, the street light so beautifully illuminating her locks like a halo around her. He reached a cautious hand forward, dragging it against her cheek, down to her bottom lip.

Her mind was screaming at her to leave while she still could, to somehow not fall in the mix of the infamous campus player that was Roger Taylor.

But her heart? Well, as cliche as it sounds, her heart was telling her to disregard any reasonable thoughts and just kiss the bastard, for God’s sake.

And if anyone knew Y/n Y/l/n, they knew that most times, she would listen to the latter mentioned, rather than the former. And so after several moments of unbearable silence, she decided she would. Catching on relatively fast, Roger took her flush against him, Y/n able to feel his breath fanning over her face.

She leaned forward with a small smile, placing her hands on either side of his face. Her eyes wandered to his plump and rosy lips, adrenaline pumping through her veins. But before she could make the final leap, so to say, Brian, of all people, called out her name in a confused nature, squinting, believing that it might have been his eyes deceiving him. The girl from his 9 a.m. lecture could not possibly be about to snog his bandmate.

Impossible.

Her eyes widened, head turning immediately when hearing her name fall from his lips.

“Brian, hey!”

“Wait, you two know each other?”

Ignoring Roger’s (panicked) question, Brian walked over, a look of amazement still prevalent in his features. She moved from Roger’s side over to Brian, giving him a side hug, Bri’s arm resting on her shoulders.

“I see you’ve met Y/n. She’s in my astronomy class.”

She smiled brightly as the neon signs lining the downtown district of bars and restaurants alike, meeting Brians gaze.

“Yup, got to love Dr. Martin’s lectures.” She chuckled, the tall man next to her doing the same.

Picking up on Roger’s absolutely bewildered appearance, still taking in the situation unfolding in front of him, Brian took the liberty of initiating another conversation.

“So, Y/n, did you see the show tonight?”

She frowned, crossing her arms.

“Wanted to, but no, got caught up in the library. I have my final for statistics on Thursday, or else I would have been there.” She locked eyes with Roger, giving him a soft smile. Suddenly changing her demeanor, she reached into her bag she always seemed to have with her, pulling out those cheap cigarettes and her Zippo. She lit one of the sticks, inhaling.

“In fact, I heard your drummer was incredible, so I thought I would try to see him in action tonight.” Her gaze never left Rogers as she conversed, her mouth pressed in a line, the rest of her face completely neutral.

“But you’ve seen us before Y/n, he’s been with the band for quite some time.”

“I mean, I wanted to see him with a fresh pair of eyes, a different perspective, I guess.”

Still mildly confused, Brain shook his head and muttered something like “Right, okay” to which Y/n softly smiled at before dropping the cigarette from her hand. Barefoot, she couldn’t reach down to step on it, have the sparks die out under her toes.

“Could one of you get that, please?”

Roger nodded immediately, his boot finding its way quickly, the toe of it making a circular motion. His eyes stayed on Y/n, as had hers before. And despite the bustling city around them, Hell, even despite Brian’s perplexed stare, it felt oddly intimate, as if they were locked onto each other’s view (not that they were complaining).

But they weren’t, as she proved mere seconds later, abruptly bidding them goodbye and heading the opposite direction.

The pair of boys watched her as she went, heads tilted and jaws dropped to where if their mothers were present, they would be scolded to “close their mouths before they catch flies in there!”.

“That’s her, you know.” Roger commented bluntly, slightly shaking his head and then popping his lip.

Brian took a moment, turning toward his friend, stuttering.

“As in, her, her? Y/n is mystery girl?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, Rog.”

“Why would I need that, Brian?” He challenged, putting his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. Brain kept his assumed position, moving his hand to scratch at his neck.

‘Well, I’m sure if you hang out around her enough, you’ll find out.”

Rather than shouting out at him, asking him what the Hell he meant, as he really wanted to, Roger paid Bri no attention, not even giving him a second look before under his breath saying “I’ll see you later”, and in what Brian considered to be a quite shocking turn of events, bolting off in the direction Y/n had gone.

He ignored the shouts from Brian, ignored the judgmental stares and loud whispers of those who recognized him from the band. He no longer cared about keeping his ‘cool reputation’, not when she was so close.

“Is that Roger Taylor?”, “Oi, isn’t that the drummer from the band at the pub?”, “Hey, why’s he buggin’ out?” all flooded his ears, usually followed by what seemed to be snickering, making a desperate attempt to cloud his mind from his self-assigned mission. But it was no use, as he was set on catching up to her. In fact, she was so close he swore he could smell the mixed scent that was uniquely her, smoke and her perfume.

He hollered her name, God, he yelled it till his throat was hoarse, just ‘cause he could. He loved the way it rolled off his tongue, he loved the fact he even had learned it to begin with, and that alone was probably why he adored it so much.

She heard his cries, turning where she stood and tilting her head.

“Roger? What on Earth are you doing?”

He finally met her, bent over on his hands and knees, breath lost in totality. She placed a concerned hand on his sweaty head, combing through his chocolate locks. He would have shivered at the feeling, if he had the energy. Rather, he looked up with the goofiest smile she’d ever seen, resembling a golden retriever, or german shepherd perhaps, in human form.

‘D’you wanna go somewhere with me? Hang out a bit?”

She nodded, holding out a hand.

“Lead the way.”

“Mom and Dad want me to be some kind of a scientist, study the stars.”

“Yeah? And what do you think about that.”

She tilted her head, shifting her position.

“I’m not quite sure. I wouldn’t be against it, that I know. The stars are beautiful, but they aren’t where my heart lies, I guess.”

He turned to face her, their noses almost touching. She could feel his breath fanning over her face, and the proximity sent butterflies through her stomach.

“I want to be an actress.” She all but whispered, turning her attention back to the full night sky and the wonders that hung in it.

“An actress, huh?”

She only hummed a confirmation, moving her left hand to pick at the cool grass under her palms.

“I could see that. You, I mean, on the big screens.”

She turned, and Roger swore he had never seen anyone smile so big before in his life.

“Really?”

His own smile grew, and she nodded vigorously, the two of them beginning to laugh. He pulled her closer by her shoulders, unaware of where the conversation would lead.

“I’ll go to New York. You’ll see me on billboards in Times Square.”

“Well, that’s nice to know. I’ll just be a lone dentist somewhere, while you forget all about me, having lavish parties and such. Whatever it is that famous people do.” His voice was obviously joking, melodramatic was written all over him, yet Y/n couldn’t help but still feel a sliver of guilt.

She hit his arm, rolling back over to face him. She still had a smile glued onto her lips, both of their eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Oh, shut up, will you? Smile will make it big, and we’ll meet again, when you’re on tour. Or perhaps if I’m filming where you’re performing! We’ll have those nights to ourselves, It’ll be a secret rendezvous.”

She turned to her back again, finding his hand on the damp green, her heart beating a million miles a second as she reached for it, slowly entangling her fingers in his.

“The papers will write about us, Rog, when they find out. ‘Famous actress Y/n Y/l/n seen leaving a hotel with renowned drummer Roger Taylor’ is what the headlines will say. God, what a scene we’ll cause.” Her eyes were full of excitement as she spoke, her heart feeling like it was so filled with glee that it could soar out of her chest.

“Well, I wanna know the specifics.” Roger sat up, pulling her up with him, she giggled, and the brunette wrapped a hand around her waist. She sat beside him, the streetlight by the backroad she had led them on illuminating her like a silhouette. She bit her lip and grinned, tilting her head up to better exam Rogers angelic features.

“Are you gonna have some bloke waiting for you at home, hmm? Waiting for you while you conquer the world, only for you to break his poor heart?”

“Nah.” Her answer was immediate, her eyes honest as she spoke. “Only a cactus. He’ll be my only friend. I hear it’s lonely in Hollywood, Roger.” He raised his eyebrows briefly at this, choosing his next words.

“You’ll have me?”

His head turned to look at her, admiring the way the pale moonlight illuminated her, the artificial light from the streetlamps not doing her neverending beauty and justice, in his opinion. Their eyes seemed sporadic, searching each other's faces for signs of what they were doing, possibly being wrong, but they found nothing, as expected.

The yearning had become all too much for the inspired pair, and it felt like at last, all they could do, the only thing they could do, was kiss.

So they did. Roger took her face in his hands, closing his beautiful eyes, his eyelashes barely brushing against hers. He leaned forward, joining them together, finding that they immediately moved in a perfect synchronization. They were like two sides of the same coin, and that seemed to be particularly evident in that moment. By the contrast of their lips, or perhaps the aspirations of their careers becoming somehow just a little bit clearer.

But it didn’t matter, none of it did. Not in the long run. So they pulled apart, chests heaving and faces painted with childish grins.

It was quiet then, only the crickets and the howling wind could be heard. But she liked it that way, preferred it, actually. So quiet, in fact, that Roger was able to fall fast asleep, Y/n lying comfortably in his arms. She stared at the stars, then back to his sleeping figure, her mind unable to come to a consensus on what on God's green Earth she was to do.

She settled for placing a kiss on his jaw, closing her eyes. His eyes only fluttered, never waking completely. She muttered something like “See you, rockstar.” against it, before standing up and walking away, only turning back once to see his sleeping form one more time.

That was the last time for 6 years that he would see Y/n Y/l/n. See her in person, at least.

When he woke up the next morning, he was confused to say the least, wondering why Y/n didn’t wake him, mostly wondering where she had even gone. He looked around himself, patting the green grass beneath him, as if she somehow was invisible and he had missed her upon initial glance. He had shouted for her, his throat still hurting from when he did the same thing only 12 hours previous.

He had felt out of control, like the one he had been chasing had just slipped through his fingers (which it had). He had remembered asking Bri, day after day, if he had seen her in class, even just seen her around in general. Everytime the answer was the same.

“No Roger”, “I’m sorry, Roger”, “Not today, Roger”. It was a horrible, predictable pattern, that he had enough of. He was supposed to recover from it quickly, bounce back from her almost immediately, as there was basically nothing to bounce back from.

But he couldn’t, and due to such reasons, he supposed he finally understood what Brian had said, or warned, that night before he had gone chasing after her. He got it, in his own sad way.

And over the years, she slowly faded to the back of the drummer's mind, behind groupies, and songs, and shows, and such, just for her to resurface again any time he saw her on a billboard, just as she had promised. But he never let it show, outwardly at least.

He had made Brian swear not to tell the others, never to breathe a word of it to Deaky or Fred. He was embarrassed by it, for some reason, and that’s why he guessed he forbade him from speaking of it. But how long can you keep a silly college secret from your nosy bandmates? Apparently 6 years, tops, for Roger Taylor.

“Alright, everyone. Gather ‘round, I’ve got a surprise.” Freddie had said, his grumbling bunch of friends tired from their day’s work. Though, they usually had grown to appreciate and look forward to Fred’s “surprises”, today everyone was just a tad bit too grumpy to try (a certain Roger Taylor in particular, let’s call it foreshadowing).

“Oh, stop your moaning and whining, please, I promise this will be good!” the eccentric frontman had said, something hidden behind his back in his left hand.

Rog ran a hand through his, now, blond hair, exhaling in such a way that made Freddie slant his eyes, before giving in and rolling them at his flippant behavior.

“What’s going on, Fred?” Brian had been the brave soul to ask, stepping forward and then looking away momentarily to place his guitar onto a stand waiting not so far away.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He replied, jumping down from his place on the risers, removing his hand from his back and holding out what seemed to be 4 tickets to something. He walked down the loosely formed line of men, putting one in each of their extended palms. Roger, at the end of their formation of sorts, became concerned when Brian had burst out laughing, looking to his right, being met with Roger’s face of confusion.

Freddie, possibly more confused than Roger, pressing the piece of thick paper into his hand, his gaze falling onto Brian, who now had tears in his eyes.

“Bri, what’s so… funny. Shit.” He had looked down to the slip, the only words he needed to read to know he was absolutely screwed, being “Jaws” and “Premiere”.

Now, anybody who knew anything, knew that Y/n Y/l/n was going to be in the film that was said to become the blockbuster of the summer, playing the role of Ellen Brody (though a few had said she was far too young for the job). She had been an overnight success in the film industry, gaining popularity from the 1973 film, ‘The Sting’, playing Billie.

And Roger had watched ‘The Sting’, and you can imagine his surprise when Y/n had sauntered onto screen, red lipped and fresh faced. (He had to admit, she looked great in a suit.)

After that, the assault on Roger’s fragile heart was never ending.

Billboards began to pop up even more frequently as she was to star in more films, and it seemed no matter where he was touring, he couldn’t escape her. Whether it was posters, her face printed on newspapers, adverts in about every place business was done for one of her films, he felt like he was being followed. He had even seen an article about her in a magazine, and when he had flipped the page he was greeted with Queen’s smiling faces.

He had stopped watching them after ‘American Graffiti’.

So, he figured that this one wouldn’t be any different, and he simply planned on ignoring said film until he caved, doing his best to avoid her on the silver screen and anywhere else, which hadn’t been too difficult until this point (not).

But this? This was a whole new level of being royally fucked.

“Brian, Rog, something you want to share with the rest of the class?” John had asked, cocking his head and propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. Brian began to speak, wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders, the shorter man looking up at him with angry fire burning in his eyes.

“Well, I’m honestly quite excited. The film industry has always seemed very intriguing, actually, and I’m looking forward to meeting new people. Rog?”

“No.”

“No?” John repeated, “No, what?” He waved a hand around, trying to understand what Roger’s problem was.

“I just- I don’t- I knew-”

“Roger had a fling with Y/n Y/l/n and she broke his heart.” Brain blurted out, Roger turning and immediately smacking him upside his curly head of hair. He regarded an “Ouch!” before him and the rest of the boys burst out laughing, the drummer not included in that demographic, fuming.

“Rog, darling, when was this? How did we not know?” Freddie managed to breathe out, sitting down next to Deaky on the studio sofa. He crossed his hands and ankles, his full attention turned towards Roger who really, really didn’t wanna have to do this, and who really, really was gonna get Brian back for this later. Would he untune all his guitars? Unplug his amp during rehearsals, perhaps put hair remover in his shampoo? But, that would have to wait until after he was forced to spill his 6 year secret.

“It was in 69-”

“69?!” Freddie had cried out. “It’s been 6 bloody years? And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“Well I didn’t really see a reason it would be necessary to tell you all! In fact, I probably wouldn’t have told you ever if this bloke didn’t have such a big mouth!”

“Hey, watch it.” Brian weighed in, crossing his arms and fluttering his eyes.

“Look, Roger I really don’t see the issue here. We go to the premiere, you just keep a low profile and ignore Y/n, problem solved.” John cut in, trying to be helpful.

Keyword: trying.

“And how exactly will I do that?”

“We will behave, I promise.” Freddie added, though Roger seemed to be having a difficult time believing him or his claim for the others. So Roger only scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

Cameras were flashing brightly, reporters and such were shouting loudly, and Y/n was already exhausted.

Her red lips were painted like DeAngelo had done it himself, and her hair was styled just the way she liked. The heels she was wearing per request of her stylist, though, were horrible. They looked lovely, yes, but they were digging into her poor ankles, and she still had to wear them for who knew how long. She didn’t complain, though, she wouldn’t dream of it.

She would just continue her slow walk down the carpet, a sultry smile on her face. The black fabric of the gown she was wearing fit her beautifully, snug in all the right places.

She sure hoped it was, at least. Especially because she knew that he would be there.

Roger Taylor, the blessed drummer that managed to make a home in the backburner of her mind, his success coming as no surprise to the actress. She had loved every one of their records, and rather than running from his work like Roger had, she opted for going straight to the record shop, purchasing any and every Queen album in her sight. When she had checked out, the very shocked cashier had made some remark, asking something about “you a fan?”

She had thought about it for a moment, thinking back to all those years ago when Roger had asked the same thing. She smiled, shrugging.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

So when she had worked up the courage to invite the entire band to the premiere (on behalf of Spielberg, of course) she was a nervous wreck to find out they had accepted. Really, ask anyone who had any contact with her in the time from then to the premiere, they could testify that her moodiness had risen like a hot air balloon.

Now, though, she was kind of regretting that she had invited them, looking over to the sharp looking bunch, all dressed to the nines. She scanned her eyes over them, catching a wave from Brian, which she gladly returned with an enthusiastic smile. Bri then tapped Roger on the shoulder to alert him of Y/n’s acknowledgment, which resulted in Y/n’s eyes widening to the size of moons.

She turned her head, and worked to finish up her walk of the carpet just a tad bit faster. It all seemed to be for nothing, though, as in the dark of the theater for the premiere itself, she saw the seat next to her be filled, a presence filling her senses.

“Miss me?”

Their hands were all over each other, not truly caring if the tabloids caught a glimpse, just needing to make up for lost time.

They had stumbled into the golden hotel both her and Queen were staying in, the swinging doors of the New York establishment blowing a cool gust of wind in their direction.

They merely laughed at the minor interruption, their teeth clashing as they both smiled momentarily. It was soon forgotten, though, both of them having much more pressing matters in their minds.

They only came to a cease in the elevator, some old couple who most definitely did not care about whatever pressing issue the two of them felt they had, standing off to the side. (Y/n could swear she saw the older woman smirk and wink at her, to which she cocked her head and smiled.)

Once back into the safe confines of Y/n’s suite, they resumed like they had never even stopped, hands gravitating towards the others form as if they were opposite magnets, unable to be separated for too long.

“You’ve driven me crazy, you know that, right? “

She giggled and bit her lip, looking up into his eyes, their foreheads pressed together.

“Mmm? I’d hope so.”

He pulled away, shaking his head, blond locks following suit.

“Really, you have no idea. I haven’t been able to shake you from my head. You’re everywhere.”

Her excitement could barely be contained at his confession of sorts, chest heaving, trying to stay calm.

“Yeah, that was the plan.”

Roger shook his head with a dry chuckle, looking to his feet and back to her when she had tilted his head up, her finger resting on his jaw.

“Well, are you into it?” She questioned, grabbing his hand and pulling their clasped fingers in between their chests, her eyes hazy with hope.

“Yeah.” He titled his head, feigning a pondering look. “You could say I’m kinda into it.”

“Shut it!”

“Make me.”

She rolled her eyes at his stupidly provocative suggestion, and he only laughed, the two of them falling onto the plush comfort of the bed in a meshed flurry for the remainder of the night.

And if you couldn’t guess what could have possibly happened next, the black dress ended up in a pooled up pile next to the bed that night, right next to the heels that finally she had the pleasure of discarding.

The next morning, it was unlike the one 6 years ago, as when Roger woke up, he was overjoyed to find a sleeping Y/n, laying on his chest with hair splayed around her. And he had to say, he usually wasn’t much of a cuddler, but for some reason he felt so incredibly endeared, that anything else wouldn’t have sufficed.

He ran small circles on the exposed skin of her bare shoulder, the comforter concealing the rest of her limbs that were tangled up with Roger’s.

When she stirred, Roger sat up, fondly watching as her eyes fluttered open and her tongue ran across her dried lips, still carrying a hint of last night's red pigment. She looked next to her, her eyeline matching up with the covered skin of Roger’s lap.

She sighed, shifting her head to rest on his thighs as her feet dangled off of the bed. One of Roger’s hands came up to softly massage the top of her head, the other against the headboard, behind his neck. She stared at the ceiling, an unreadable expression creeping its way to her features.

“We were jacked up last night.” Roger’s voice cut through the silence they shared, deeper in the late morning than she had heard before.

“Correction, you were jacked up.”

“Whatever.”

They laughed, silence soon taking over once again. Roger sighed, closing his ever tired eyes.

“Are we gonna pay for this?”

She scoffed, inhaling deeply before reaching over to the nightstand, grabbing her carton of cigarettes. He noticed they were the same brand from college, a small smile making its way to his face at the thought.

She first lit hers, then lighting a second one for the man occupying her king sized bed (though she wasn’t even slightly upset by this, quite the opposite). She handed it to him, sticking her own between her lips and sitting up, straddling where her head had been minutes before.

She leaned forward, so close their noses were to the point where they were nearly touching. She took the cigarette from her lips, blowing the smoke to the left of Rog in the direction of the large balcony overlooking Times Square. She turned her attention back to him, though it had never really left, tilting her head.

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” The answer came immediately, no careful consideration or pondering needed.

“Right.” She removed herself from him, standing and taking the sheet with her, letting it cover her like a renaissance dress. She walked over to the balcony, leaning against the frame of the double doors. She took another drag, an adoring smile spreading across her face.

“Then there’s your answer.”

She paused, Roger tilted his head, his brows lifting.

“Of course we will.”

✺🎬✺

if u liked that hot mess pls like and rb!! mwah ily go eat protein and drink water if ur able. xx hj

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gwilespos · 3 years

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unexpected reunion | charlie nelson x oc

charlie nelson x isabelle barnaby (oc)

recuento de palabras 2.1k

La navidad ya estaba a la vuelta de la esquina y este año la joven Barnaby había decidido pasar las fiestas junto a su familia, en este caso, junto a sus padres y a su futura hermanita. Lo que no contaba la chica era que días antes se reencontraría con su ex pareja, con quién había terminado recientemente.

¡! domingo 22 de diciembre de 2013 14:55 pm Isabella

Acabada de llegar a Causton y me encontraba junto con mi amigo Ben en su auto, frente a la casa de mis padres.

─Estas lista?─Pregunto mi mejor amigo

─Creo que si─murmuré abriendo la puerta.

Bajé y le hice un ademán a Ben para que venga conmigo, él dudo un poco pero termino accediendo, bajé mis dos maletas, nos dirigimos hacia la puerta, después de unos minutos golpee levemente en esta y al poco tiempo se sintieron unos pasos junto con ladridos.

Al abrirse la puerta pude ver a mi madre y de inmediato la abracé

—Mamá—Sonreí. —Oh, Bella mi pequeña— dijo mientras acunaba mi rostro entre sus manos.— cómo estás?— pregunto.

—Bien y tú— hablé volviendo a sus brazos, hasta que recordé a mi amigo—Oh disculpa Ben, ma él es Ben mi mejor amigo y compañero en Londres. —Jones, Ben Jones mucho gusto señora Barnaby, aquí su hija me a contado mucho sobre usted y su esposo—se presentó amablemente, extendiendo su mano, acto que mi madre acepto gustosamente.

—Nada de señora, dime Sarah—le sonrió amablemente— pero bueno pasen que hace mucho frío— Se hizo al lado y ambos nos adentramos hacia la casa. Deje mis maletas al lado de la escalera para subirlas luego.

Un alegre Sykes nos recibió ya adentró, lo acaricié levemente y el lo recibió alegre.

—Y papá?— le pregunté al ya estar en la cocina —Esta atendiendo un caso reciente con su nuevo compañero—me contó y nos resumió un poco de lo que estaba ocurriendo en estos días.— ...deben tener cuidado.— nos advirtió.

⟨ 16:02 ⟩

Pasamos un muy buen rato hablado que ya eran las cuatro de la tarde, Ben se había ido acomodarse al hotel, aunque con mamá le insistimos en que se quedará el se negó, además me dijo que yo tenía que tener un momento a solas con mi madre para contarle la noticia que tenia. Ahora nos encontrábamos horneando galletas.

—Y algo interesante para contar—pregunto mamá—algún chico o algo más.— —No nada interesante, que tal tú mamá, como vas con el embarazo— trate de esquivar el tema —Bella Barnaby que me estás ocultando—se cruzo de brazo viéndome sería— —Nad-a, n-ada— maldeci por tartamudear. —Isabella—su tono se volvió más serio.

Suspiré y la tome de la mano para que tomara asiento apoyando ambas manos unidas sobre la mesa.

—Mamá—suspire— estoy embarazada—solté de repente— y antes que me digas algo quiero que sepas que yo no estaba buscando esto—mi voz se quebró— no ahora que tú estás embarazada, tengo miedo por el que dirá la gente y ustedes, más que nada ustedes me come internamente—me largue a llorar. —Pequeña— me abrazó y hizo que me sentará en su falda, tratando de no aplastarla— tu padre y yo jamás te diríamos nada y la opinión de los demás tiene que importarte muy poco— me daba suaves caricias en la espalda— además ya estás en buena edad, tienes treinta años, linda—me consolaba.

Y tenía razón, estaba en edad pero nunca en mi vida imagine embarazarme a la vez que mi madre.

—cuando te enteraste?—pregunto. —a principios de mes, después de romper con mi pareja— solté mirando a la nada— rompimos por problemas de distancia, le ofrecieron trabajo en otro lugar y por eso terminamos—explique antes de que preguntará— me gustaría hablar con él pero perdimos contacto— hice una mueca.

Recordé los últimos días con mi pareja, estábamos bien, hasta estábamos por comprometernos, pero la distancia nos estaba consumiendo. Mentiría si dijera que ya no sentía nada por él. Sonreí mientras jugaba con el anillo que se encontraba en mi dedo.

—Bueno tu decidirás que hacer y nosotros te vamos apoyar eso tenlo por seguro mi niña—me beso la cabeza para luego limpiar mis lágrimas.

Nos quedamos un rato abrazadas, hasta que el ruido de la puerta nos interrumpió

—cariño, estoy en casa— hablo una voz desde la sala que inmediatamente reconocí.—Donde estás?—pregunto. —Estamos en la cocina—contesto mi madre

—Estamos?—oí que dijo.

Con mamá nos paramos, yo me dirigí hacia el baño para limpiar mi cara y ella se fue a la sala. Al terminar fui a la sala, cuando llegué pude ver a un hombre alto hablando con mamá.

─Ya te tiene mintiendo por él─escuche decir a mi madre.─Bien llegarás lejos.─habló divertida y empezó a sacar su lado protector haciéndole preguntas al chico.

─Sarah.─Llamo mi padre como por décima vez, acercándose a ella. —Te dije el chico iba ser apuesto—le pegó en el hombro, yo reí llamando la atención de los presentes. —Bella—Sonrió papá. —Hola pa—Lo abrace. —Pero, cuando llegaste, con quién?—empezó hacer preguntas. —Creo que eso mejor te lo respondo luego ahora tienes que resolver un caso—Palme su espalda. —oh es verdad, por cierto él es Nelson, Nelson ella es mi hija Isabella—Nos presentó.

Mi vista se fijo en el acompañante y quede sorprendida, era él, mi ex pareja. Salí de mi trance y lo salude

─Un gusto─hice una mueca que trate de disimular.

─Igual─estrechamos las manos y con la mirada fija.

─Bueno los dejaremos haciendo su trabajo─Hablo mi madre de repente haciendo que nuestras miradas se separen.

─Si de hecho yo me tengo que ir, quede con Ben para ver donde se iba a hospedar─Me excuse.

Me despedí y fui hasta la cocina a buscar mi teléfono y mi abrigo.

─Es él, no─Apareció mi madre por la puerta de la cocina

─¿Que?

─Él es el padre y tu pareja, no? —Pero que cosas dices mamá?—trate de no alzar tanto la voz. —Dios Isa, te conozco, vi ese brillo en tus ojos, el mismo que tenía yo al ver a tu padre cuando era joven.

Yo solo suspiré colocándome mi abrigó. —Por favor dile a papá, yo me encargaré de darle los detalles después, necesito hablar con Kate.— mire a mamá— prometo no tardar—Dije para luego salir de casa.

Salí caminando en dirección hacia el trabajo de mi padre, haciendo una parada en una cafetería que se encontraba en la esquina, al tener ya los pedidos, retome mi camino.

Cuando entre, el recepcionista me paró.

—Disculpe señorita, que desea—el muchacho me miró. —buscaba a Kate Wilding. —Claro, veré si está disponible—El tipo teclo el teléfono y hablo un poco, luego volvió su mirada a mi—a nombre de quién? —Barnaby, Isabella Barnaby—el chico me miró sorprendido.

Habló un poco más y me indico dónde tenía que ir, agradecí y fui hacia donde me dijo el muchacho.

—Pero si es mi Barnaby favorita—soltó la rubia ni bien entre a la habitación donde se encontraba —Deja que te escuché papá y vas a ver cómo te va—Reí y me acerque para abrazarla—Dios, te extrañe tanto Wilding. —Yo igual Bella—Me abrazo más fuerte. —Tengo muchas cosas para contarte, estás disponible? es una historia algo larga, hasta traje comida—Puse la bolsa de la cafetería en la mesa. —Si el caso está finalizando, así que si, adelante.—Ambas nos sentamos.

Empecé a contarle todo de a poco y resumiendo alguna que otra parte, finalizando con una Kate algo sorprendida.

—Estas embarazada!!—Chillo— y del nuevo detective de tu padre!! —Si, aunque en ese momento no se conocían. —Y como harás para contárselo a él y a tu padre?—pregunto. —A papá le dije a mamá que lo hiciera por mi. Y a Nelson...—Suspire frustrada pasando mis manos por mi rostro — simplemente no lo sé. —Bueno, si me dejas opinar creo que sería mejor que hablarán solos y cuánto antes—aconsejo Kate.—Y que mejor hacerlo ahora—sonrió dándome ánimos. —Pero, está en medio de un caso—Dije no muy convencida. —Ay Bella, Bella, acaso no escuchaste el caso ya finalizó.—Me mostró su celular con un mensaje, tenía razón.

Dudé un poco en que hacer.

—Me recomiendas decirle ahora a Nelson o dices que esperé?—Pregunte indecisa—O sea nos acabamos de ver recién hoy después de un mes, no puedo llegar y decirle "Hey, Nelson, sabías que vamos a ser papás y que aunque haya pasado un mes sigo enamorada de ti, muy loco lo sé"—Kate palideció, manteniendo su mirada detrás de mí—Que pasa—Me di la vuelta y vi a Charlie parado en la puerta con una cara de asombro.

—Que acabas de decir Isabella—Nelson entro y dejo los papeles que tenía en mano sobre la mesa. —Saben que yo mejor me retiro—Hablo la rubia mientras agarraba un par de cosas—cualquier cosa que necesites no dudes en llamar—susurro antes de salir.

Todo había quedado en completo silencio, Charlie me miraba esperando una respuesta y yo no sabía que decir, simplemente jugaba con el anillo que el me había entregado tiempo atrás.

—Bella, te hice una pregunta—suspiro él. —Lo que escuchaste Nelson, vas a ser papá, estoy embarazada—confesé con la mirada gacha, él se acercó a mi, agachándose a mi altura. —Lo dices enserio?—Sus ojos se iluminaron. —Nunca he hablado tan enserio en mi vida—me limpie una lágrima que amenazaba en salir—No estás enojado? lo cual es entendible porque puede qu....—Fui interrumpida por Nelson quien se abalanzó para besarme.

El beso duro alrededor de dos minutos, al terminarlo el no se separó, es más junto nuestras frentes. —Como vas a pensar que está noticia me va a enojar, es la más maravillosa que me has dado—acaricio mi mejilla— bueno luego de que hayas dado el si—Sonreímos.— Isabella desde que nos separamos no he encontrado a alguien que me complete tanto como lo haces tú, esto de separarnos me hizo demasiado mal, me hacías tanta falta.—Soltó dejándome shockeada. —Q-ue, que estás tratando de decir. —Que te amo, Isabella. Te amo como nunca he amado a cualquier otra persona.—confeso

Con esa confesión quedé helada, no sabía que hacer o que decir. Así que hice lo que sea probablemente lo más cliché y lo que él antes había echo, exacto lo bese. Coloqué mis brazos sobre sus hombros y nos acercamos aún más.

—Yo también te amo Charlie Nelson, aunque ya lo hayas escuchado—me sonroje— sinceramente no sé porque nos distanciamos—Dije al separarnos, él se arrodilló —Bee—me nombró por el apodo que el me había puesto— quieres volver con este hombre que ahora es detective de tu padre. —Claro que quiero—Se levanto y nos dimos un pequeño beso.

Nos separamos por culpa de mi celular que estaba sonando, era mamá.

—Bella, dónde estás ya es tarde. —Ma, estoy en el trabajo de papá, con Kate se nos fue la hora hablando ya mismo voy a casa. —Por cierto tu padre ya lo sabe —Y como se lo tomó? —Quiere hablar contigo, ven cuánto antes. —b-ien voy en camino—colgué cuánto antes y me empecé a poner el abrigó y a tirar lo que quedó de basura.

—Todo bien?—se preocupo Charlie. —Si, solo tengo que volver a casa, mamá está preocupada—hice una mueca— además papá se enteró del embarazo y quiere hablar. —No lo sabía?—Pregunto —No, primero se enteró Ben, luego mamá, Kate, tu y ahora papá—enumeré, el asintió —Bien déjame llevarte, ya es algo tarde y no puedo dejarte ir sola—Estaba por salir cuando se detiene—espérame en la entrada, no tardaré— y se fue, supongo que a buscar sus cosas.

Hice lo que me dijo y alrededor de unos minutos ya estábamos en el auto, en el camino nos pusimos un poco al día, mientras la radio estaba a un volumen aceptable.

—No puedo creer que aún conserves el anillo que te dí— hablo riendo mientras manejaba —Bueno, quería tener algo de ti conmigo, aunque sea por un pequeño tiempo.—Sonreí tímida. —Bueno, que bueno que lo hayas guardado— tomó mi mano y la besó—esa propuesta sigue en pie, ¿no? —Claro que si—sonreí y lo bese fugazmente.—

Cuando hice eso el estaciono el auto, pues ya habíamos llegado. baje del auto y al segundo Charlie hizo lo mismo, rodeo el auto y me tomo de la mano para acompañarme hasta la puerta.

—Hasta mañana linda, descansa— hablo dulcemente.— —Hasta mañana Nel, gracias por acompañarme— nos acercamos para darnos un beso de despedida, pero fuimos interrumpidos por la puerta que se había abierto, dejando ver a mi padre junto a mi madre, detrás de esta. —Ejem—carraspeó John—Señorita Barnaby y detective Nelson, creo que ustedes y yo necesitamos hablar seriamente—

he aquí la finalización de este primer OS de mi rey Charlie Nelson. Se me hizo un poco largo y un poco aburrido capaz, pero me gustó el resultado. Hasta ya estoy pensando en hacerle segunda parte y tal vez tercera O incluso una propia historia(ojo al piojo) Bueno espero que les haya gustado nos vemos en la próxima actualización, que no se cuando sera:)) ♥️¡! tal vez mas adelante traduzca en ingles este os

#charlie-nelson-x-reader #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee #midsomer murders #gwilym lee smut #borhap #gwilym lee imagine #ds charlie nelson #charlie nelson x lector #gwilym lee x lector

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whynotwinnie · 3 years

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Tímida: Roger Taylor x OC series

sorry guys i’ve been m.i.a. with second semester starting i’ve been stressing with class and all that but i had this chapter for awhile now and i decided to finish it. also i’m trying to work on “wounded” the kylo ren series but i fell into a bit of a writers block for that one. .-. i’ll work on it soon. but here is this roger taylor fic you can use ben hardy’s version of roger if you would like. :) thanks for reading.

MICKEY

Waking up groggy you checked your alarm clock, 12:00 in the afternoon you have definitely seen worse you groaned as you got up from your bed.

You had always followed a very specific routine in all honestly it just made sense living on your own had definitely impacted you and your mental health so sticking to a routine made it feel like your life was always on track, when it certainly was not.

The first thing on your non-existent schedule was coffee, no matter the time you always needed some sort of caffeine when you are tight on cash it was tea at home, but when you were able and that was most of the time you went to a small coffee shop that was about a fifteen-minute walk from your studio apartment.

After doing the basic self-hygiene you grabbed your tote bag filled with your work stuff and started walking to the directions to Beachwood Cafe.

The walk is always quiet and calm, but it always gave you little bits and pieces into other people’s lives. Like the old lady watering her plants or the way, the housewife takes her toddler for a walk in his stroller. The sense of familiarity comforted you.

“Hello there.”

You whipped your head toward the direction of the voice, this was not part of the routine you had never seen this man before, his shoulder-length blonde hair and ridiculously blue eyes were unfamiliar yet comforting. He was confident yet nonchalant with his greeting.

“Hello,” you said with a small smile he looked down at you smiling.

You continued to walk seeing Beachwood in the distance.

“Were you going to get a cuppa?” you nodded your head “That is so crazy because so was I.” he picked up his pace so he can open the door for you.

You muttered a small thank you and walked in, Beachwood was a small but very popular coffeeshop the owner Dayla has became a very good friend of yours and always brightened up your day with a joke or two.

“Mimi, how are you love?” she asked from behind the counter.

“I’m good Day how are you?”

“Can’t complain if I say so myself.” she said grinning “Let me guess Caffe Latte and a pastry?”

“Yes ma’am, it’s late in the day you didn’t run out of the pastries yet?”

“I just took out a fresh batch right now, I knew you were going to have a late start today.” God, you loved this woman.

You stepped aside to get your wallet from your bag

“What would you like young man?” Dayla asked the man who walked in with you.

“I’ll just get a cup of tea please, Oh! I’ll get her order as well” he said as he saw you handing money to Dayla.

“That’s okay!” you said feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Please I insist.” He said practically throwing the money to pay for your order at Dayla.

“Please let me-”

“Mimi! he said he insists go sit down,” Dayla said looking at you wide-eyed.

You looked at both of them and walked to the seat you usually sat at and what a surprise the man came with you.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” he said motioning to the seat across from you.

“Go ahead,” you said

He sat down looking out the window and then back at you. “I’m sorry I realized I never introduced myself I’m Roger Taylor.” he said extending his hand out to you, you grabbed it.

“I’m Mickey… well it’s not really Mickey but it’s just easier to pronounce.” Stupid you should’ve just said Mickey.

“May I ask what your real name is?” Roger said still holding your hand

“It’s Mikaela but Mickey is fine.”

“Can you say it one more time, I want to make sure I got it right.” he rubbed his thumb across your knuckles.

“Umm… yeah it’s pronounced Me as in me and you, Ki like eye but with a K in front of it and Yella like yell with an A after… That sounded really complicated actually you don’t have to-”

“Mikaela?” he said slowly looking up at you for confirmation.

“Yeah!” your heart skipped a beat it is so nice hearing your name.

“Nice to meet you Mikaela” he said as he brought your hand up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

Fuck.

Of course, at the exact same time as that happened, Dayla came with your drinks. She set your drink down smirking and left without saying another word.

“Is it safe to assume that you are not from here?” He asked while blowing on his tea before taking a small sip.

“Yeah, you can say that. What gave it away.” You said smiling from your coffee cup

“You’re just different from everyone not in a bad way either I like it. Where are you from.”

Oh god, I can die happy right now.

“Well, it's a bit of a long story.”

“I don't have anywhere to be.” He said his blues eyes burning into yours

Oh wow, he's so hot

“Oh in that case. I was born in a small town in Spain. Spanish was my first language so that’s why I talk funny.”

“I like the way you talk.”

He did not. Your face was definitely red.

“How does a girl from Spain come to London?”

“Ummm sheer luck I suppose.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure”

“Was it hard learning another language?”

“Learning English was super difficult sometimes I feel like I dont know what I’m saying, but English is my third language my second was Italian.”

“Italian? Where do you find the time to learn two extra languages?” He was genuinely in disbelief

“Well my mom was from Spain and my dad was from Italy so I just needed to know both and they’re pretty similar to each other so it wasn’t that hard.

“What do you do for fun?”

“What do I do for fun?” I repeated thinking hard

“Yes, you obviously must have loads of friends.”

“Well… I do have friends, I just can’t think of one at this second.”

This is embarrassing now he thinks I’m a loser

“Don’t worry I don’t have many friends either but consider me as your friend Mickey.”

“What about you? What do you do for fun?” I need to change the subject oh my god.

“Well, I’m in a rock band.”

“A rock band?!” You said a little too loudly

“What about me isn’t rock and roll Mickey?” he said laughing

“Not in a bad way of course you don’t seem like the type to be singing in front of a crowd,” I said shaking my head

“Well, I suppose you got that right I’m on the drums in the back so the audience can’t really see me anyways.”

“I’m sorry I’m not trying to make fun of you I just got caught off guard, does your band have a name?”

“Sm- Queen,” he said shaking his head.

“I like the name Queen, are you playing soon I would like to see what I’m missing out on.”

“We’re actually recording our first album right now, the recording place is not too far from here about a block or two further down. So we’re going on a small break until we’re done with the album but I believe the next one is in three weeks.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it then.” You said sipping your coffee

“Actually I was hoping to see you earlier than that.”

You immediately choked on your coffee, making a scene by coughing into your napkin.

“That wasn’t the response I had hoped for,” he said passing you his napkin so you can wipe your tears with.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I wasn’t trying to be mean I just- well I would like to see you again as well.”

“Really?,” He said smiling, and you swear you could melt from his smile alone.

“Yes, of course.” You smiled back.

He then prompted to drink his cup of tea until it was finished and left money on the table.

“Great then I’m going to leave before I can mess up this perfect first moment. By any chance do you have a pen on you?”

You shook your head yes and looked through your bag handing it to him.

“This is my number, we’re recording until 6 today so anytime after that call me and I’d love to talk to you more.”

You felt your head spinning with how fast he was talking and moving.

He plucked your hand up and gave you a small kiss on it again, he then walked to the door before saying.

“Promise me you’ll call me,” he told you while he grabbed the door handle.

“I promise I’ll call you,” you said softly

“Perfect,” he said while he winked at you and then left.

He gave you one last look through the window and then left, once he was out of view Dayla came to the table.

“Who was that?” she said, collecting her tip that Roger left her.

“His name is Roger. I met him today.”

“Today! You’re joking.”

“I swear Dayla I met him minutes before coming here?”

“He can be a psychopath! And here you are chatting with him after knowing him for 30 minutes.”

That stopped you.

“He is not a psycho he was so nice and funny, and did you see how hot he is Day?”

“Yeah well murderers can be funny and hot.”

“Do you really think he’s a murderer?” you asked in a exsperated way.

“No, I was just kidding he is really hot and besides who would want to murder you?” Dayla said as she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Wow that doesn’t really make me feel better.”

She stood up grabbing Roger’s empty cup “Girl you know I was just playing I say go for it and have fun, anyone would be lucky to have you.” she bumped your shoulder with her hip and left.

Your mind felt overwhelmed with all the excitement from today you even almost forgot that you had some work orders to do you tried to push Roger from your mind as you grabbed your journal and sketchbook from your bag. You looked back at your notes reading on what your client wanted: a floor-length gown but not something too flashy something to show off their arms and their cleavage. Perfect. You spent your time designing the gown having fun with it since you probably wouldn’t have another gown piece for months. After finishing you went on to your smaller orders feeling yourself getting into the groove of things.

Looking up from your sketch you noticed how dark it got outside and how empty it now was in the cafe. You decided to call it a day, well that was until you go home, and then you would start making the gown. You noticed the clock when you were telling Dayla good night. 6:58 Damn time really flew by and then you remembered the number you had in your bag.

The walk home went by to fast your thoughts about what you would say to Roger once you called made you nervous to the point that your keys kept slipping from your hands as you were trying to open the door to your apartment.

You purposely threw your jacket on the phone hook so you didn’t have to see it and went to the bathroom you looked at your appearance baggy jeans, an oversize t-shirt that you also slept in, hair a mess, and no makeup. You shook your head, no way Roger was being serious about you calling him he was so much more put together and out of your league completely. You could just imagine all the beautiful women that he has been with, no way you could compare. You sighed walking out the bathroom ready to get started on your order. You grabbed the different fabrics you needed for making the gown and when you went to grab your sketchbook Roger’s number fell and slowly fluttered down to the floor like it was taunting you. You stared at the paper hard groaning when you opened it reading that he wrote “Roger <3” following his number. You did promise him you would call…

Your heartbeat picked up when you approached the phone dialing each number slowly wishing a catastrophic event would happen and end the world so you didn’t have to finish dialing. It didn’t happen. You put the phone to your ear and hear the first ring, and then the second. This was stupid calling him in the first place you removed the phone from your ear and were half a second away from hanging up when you heard “Hello?”

Shit.

You couldn’t just hang up now.

“Hello, is this Roger?”

“It took you long enough.”

#queen band #queen smut #queen imagine #rogertaylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor smut #roger taylor fanfic #queen imagines #borhap #borhap smut #ben hardy #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fluff #queen fluff

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jojoreadwhat · 4 years

Text

joe mazzello masterlist

there’s never enough time ☁️

what would it take to think about me any other way? ❌

woke up laughing, good love is hard to find. ☁️

new beginnings ☁️

you can keep the heart from the heartbreak. i don’t need to leave with a keepsake. ❌

nothing else will do, all i want is you this christmas.☁️

stuck in quarantine. ❌

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello fanfiction #joe mazzello smut #joe mazzello imagines #joe mazzello x reader #borhap

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freddiesaysalright · 4 years

Text

Just Like a Woman - Part 10

A Roger Taylor x Reader Story

Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, you’re representing him in his divorce.

Word Count: 4.3k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @moon-stars-soul, @im-an-adult-ish, @ixchel-9275, @jennyggggrrr, @zyanmaik, @mypassionfortrash, @a19103, @madeinheavxn, @beepbeephardy, @rrogerchxrm, @qweenly, @blisshemmings, @seasidecrowbar, @internationalkpoplova, @ellystone, @takemetoneverland420, @coffeexcigarette, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @thatpunkmaximoff, @angelkissys, @rocknroll-stolemyass, @simonedk, @anotheronewritesthedust1, @peterquillzblog, @mrfahrenhcit, @joseph-mozzerella, @theprettyandthereckless, @flick-ofthe-wrist, @johndeaconshands, @rogerandhiscar, @queenmaracasandlove, @sunflower-ben, @cubetriangle, @amy-brooklyn99, @scorpiogemini, @kiainspace, @itsabenthing, @bookandband, @makemeyourwife-loveofmylife, @grazessa, @borhapqueen92, @theonsasheart, @vektorivittu, @chanti-frn, @brianssixpence, @dancingcoolcat, @xviiarez, @irepookie, @lnnuend0, @rogerxmeddows If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Okay so I didn’t proofread the smutty part of this I’m sorry but I get lazy, y’know? I hope you still enjoy. Just ignore any typos lol

Warning(s): Smut in this chapter! It’s romantic and stuff ;)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10 here we go!!!

Your jaw dropped as you watched Roger walk up to the stand and take his oath. When had he agreed to testify? And for the defense? Was he really so desperate to have his say that he would undermine the whole case? You shot daggers at him with your eyes.

“Mr. Taylor,” Glen began. “Can you tell us a bit about what your father was like?”

“Objection!” you interjected. “Relevance.”

Judge Walsh gave Glen an annoyed look.

“You’ll see what I’m getting at, your honor,” he said.

“Speed it up,” Judge Walsh instructed. “Or I will hold that objection sustained.”

Glen looked back at Roger.

“Mr. Taylor, your father was an abusive man, was he not?” Glen asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t see what that has to do with Dominique’s case,” Roger returned, frowning.

“I think it could have everything to do with her case,” Glen retorted. “You and your ex-wife, did you ever fight?”

“Sure we did,” Roger said. “Like any other couple, we had our moments.”

“Ever get physical?” Glen asked.

“What?!” Roger cried.

At the same time you stood up and repeated, “Objection! Move to strike!”

“Overruled,” Judge Walsh said emphatically. “Counsel, you can’t object to questions only because you don’t like them!”

“Your honor, I want it on record that I object to this witness, I object to this line of questioning, and I object to opposing counsel’s being a complete and unmitigated ass!”

“Counsel!” he scolded, banging his gavel. “Sit down and let Mr. Harrington finish! If you raise one more objection today I will hold you in contempt, do you understand me?”

Cheeks red with anger and hatred, you scowled at him. Bill forced you back to your seat. You folded your arms across your chest and once again glared at Roger, hoping he could feel the heat of your rage.

“To answer your question,” Roger began again. “No, any disagreements between Dominique and myself have always been resolved with words.”

“Until you had to bring lawyers in,” Glen remarked.

“That’s not fair,” Roger said. “When it comes to issues of money -”

“And the cheating?” Glen pointed out.

“I cheated,” Roger admitted. “Dominique was faithful until that day she went on this date. But at that point, our marriage was effectively over.”

“You didn’t like that, did you?” Glen asked. “The fact that she had a date?”

“Who would?” Roger replied. “It was a pretty harsh reminder that my marriage was done.”

“Did it make you angry?” Glen pressed.

“Yeah, a bit,” Roger said, rolling his eyes.

You squeezed yours shut. If the jury didn’t think Roger was taking this seriously, it would look bad. You saw where this was going, and you knew it would only make him angrier.

“Angry enough to behave like the late Mr. Taylor?” Glen asked.

Roger stiffened. His jaw clenched. You could hardly look at him. You saw the hurt and fury slowly overtake his body. But he was remaining impressively calm. He took a deep breath and then looked icily at Glen.

“No,” he said.

You could tell how much will power it was taking for him not to spit at Glen in that moment. You felt the same. Angry as you were with Roger for doing this, you hated Glen right now more than his client. He turned and looked at you, a slimy smile on his face.

“Your witness,” he said.

Bill looked at you questioningly. You composed yourself and nodded, letting him know you had this. You stood up.

“Mr. Taylor, have you ever once put your hands on your wife or any woman?”

“Never,” he said.

“No further questions.”

You sat back down.

After Roger’s testimony, you were released for lunch. The trial would continue the following day. You and Bill stormed out of the courtroom, each on one side of Dominique. You didn’t bother to wait for Roger, but he jogged up to you anyway. You retreated into a chamber down the corridor.

“I can’t believe you!” you shouted at Roger as you slammed the door behind the group. “I told you yesterday that you aren’t a relevant witness! Why would you agree to testify for the opposing side?!”

“I wanted an opportunity to stand up for Dom, I didn’t know he was going to ask me all that!” Roger shot back.

“Do you realize what you’ve done?!” you cried. “All the jury needs is a little bit of doubt to find him not guilty, and you’ve just given it to them!”

“Oh, please, my alibi is totally secure,” he returned.

“We wouldn’t have to even worry about it if you didn’t get your dumbass on that stand in the first place!” you almost shrieked, completely exasperated. “You’ve hurt us, Roger, you could at least be sorry for it!”

“You’re the one who wouldn’t let me testify on our side!” he yelled.

“Because I was doing my job, you daft -”

“HEEEEEEY!” Bill bellowed, banging his fist on the table.

You and Roger looked at him.

“Everybody calm the fuck down,” Bill said. “This was a setback, but we still have a strong case. What Glen did in there was a desperate, Hail Mary attempt to throw us off. We still have Dominique’s amazing testimony, Miss Thomas’s, and all the forensics. So both of you just relax, alright?”

You shot another harsh glare toward Roger and then took a seat. The shock of Roger’s testimony left you winded, but you were also terrified. If the jury now had a doubt that Nick was the culprit behind the attack on Dominique, you knew Roger would never forgive himself.

Just then, Glen burst into the room.

“What the fuck was with that witness?” he demanded. “Calling me ugly? Are you just trying to make me look stupid?”

“Hey, don’t you come in here making demands like that after what you did!” you retorted, jumping to your feet again. “You called Roger up just to try and frame him when you know that was rubbish!”

“God, you’re sexy when you’re angry,” he replied, tone softening. “Sure I can’t convince you to ditch blondie and grab a drink with me?”

“Alright!” Roger intervened, stepping closer.

“We are in the middle of a trial,” you said to Glen. “Could you act like a grown up?”

“Believe me, after seeing your legs in that skirt, my thoughts are entirely adult,” he said. “I actually started to get jealous of blondie since he gets to put his face between those gorgeous thighs every night.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that he’d gone too far, but Roger lunged past you, going for Glen. You and Bill each grabbed one of Roger’s arms, yanking him back.

“Roger!” you cried, incredulous.

“He crossed a line!” Roger bellowed. He glared fiercely at Glen. “Don’t you EVER talk about her like that!”

“HEY!” Bill interjected again. “Roger, settle down. Glen, get the fuck out.”

“I still want to know about that witness,” Glen said.

“She was the one who found Dominique, how could we not call her to the stand?” Bill argued. “Lucy Thomas is just a cold bitch by nature, we can’t help that.”

Roger was still glowering, breath heavy and chest heaving.

“Alright, I’ll go,” Glen. “But I’m not going to take any more of that nonsense.”

“Oh, but you expect us to tolerate yours?” you retorted.

“Y/N, that’s enough, we’re not doing this,” Bill said.

“Bloody ridiculous,” Glen muttered as he swept out of the room.

The door swung shut behind him. You rounded on Roger.

“What’s got into you?” you cried. “Are you trying to make this worse?”

“I was defending you!” he argued.

“OH MY GOD BOTH OF YOU SHUT IT!” Bill interrupted once again.

All eyes were on him.

“Emotions are running high right now,” he continued. “I’m going to get some lunch. Y/N, you’ve got the rest of the day off. Roger, do whatever the hell you want.”

You blinked. “You’re sending me home?”

“Yes,” he said. “You’re riled up and snappish and frankly, I don’t want to talk to you for the rest of the day.”

You flared up, offended, but he stopped you from speaking with a look. Then he turned to Dominique.

“Dom, can I get you some lunch?” he offered.

“Throw in a drink, and I’m there,” she said.

She took his arm and they left together. The door snapped closed once again and you looked at Roger.

“I appreciate you defending me, but after the argument he made in there, you can’t act like that, Rog,” you said, as calmly as you could. Inside, your emotions were swirling around like a hurricane.

“What I did was human,” Roger replied, voice also steadying. “All I want to do is defend the people I love.”

“Well, don’t,” you said sharply.

“Fine,” he snapped. “I won’t, then.”

From the look on his face, you knew you’d struck a nerve. Roger had never looked at you with so much disappointment and anger in his eyes. Not even during your worst fights. This was a new level. It made your heart sink. But when he went for the door, you didn’t try to stop him. You watched him go, feeling like a bad lawyer and an even worse girlfriend.

You walked home from the courthouse. All your frustration was gone by the time you opened the door. You half hoped that Roger would be there and you could both apologize and make up. But he wasn’t. Your flat was as empty as you felt. With a heavy sigh, you set down your work things and went to go change. Only, when you got to your bedroom, you had no energy to do so. You kicked off your shoes, flopped face down on your bed, and let out a sob. You cried yourself into a deep sleep.

You woke a couple hours later to a knock on your door. Brushing your fingers through your surely mussed up hair, you forced yourself from the bed and went to answer it. You knew who you hoped it was, but you couldn’t be sure Roger would be standing there. You left things so tense.

To your shock and pleasure, it was him. He looked rather like a dog with his tail between his legs as you opened the door. You felt the same. You had behaved no better, in your opinion.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly.

“Hey,” you returned.

A beat passed.

“I’m so sorry,” you said in unison, and you both chuckled a little bit.

“Come inside,” you offered. “We should talk.”

“Definitely,” he agreed.

He came in and you went to the kitchen. You made some tea and handed it him a cup before sitting down across from him.

“I’m sorry I testified for them,” he said. “Glen called me and asked me if I’d be willing to tell my side of the story. I had no idea he would go that direction.”

“You can’t trust opposing counsel,” you said. “Especially the likes of him.”

“Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson,” he conceded. “The last thing I want to do is hurt Dominique’s case, I just…”

“I know you want to protect people, Rog,” you said, reaching over to take his hand. “That’s your natural instinct. And I admire that about you. Few people are as selfless as you are. But you can’t always be the one in the ring, okay?”

“I know,” he said. “And again, I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you returned. “And I’m sorry too. I just got scared because Dom means a lot to me too and I don’t want her to go through all this only to lose.”

“I get it, I feel the same way,” he said. “I think we both forgot ourselves today because we care so much.”

“I told you having me might backfire,” you joked.

He smiled. Another pause passed between you.

“About Glen,” he said. “I’m also sorry I exploded like that. But I won’t apologize for defending you, he -”

“No, I agree he crossed a line today,” you cut across him. “That was way too far. Especially since we haven’t….y’know…”

“I know,” he said. “And when he said that today...just talking about you like that - even him thinking of touching you - it made me absolutely mad with rage. Because that connection we had...even back in the day...it was practically sacred to me, Y/N. To hear him say that, and make a mockery of it….I just couldn’t take it.”

You looked down to hide your blush. The sex was that meaningful to you as well, but you never thought he was so sentimental about it.

“D’you remember when we used to?” he asked. “How you’d look me in the eyes?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. The memory made heat stir in the pit of your belly.

“Yeah,” you said, finding the courage at last to look at him. “Of course I do.”

“No one else has ever looked in my eyes, y’know, during,” he said. “I felt like I could….I dunno, see your soul or something. I’ve had sex with plenty of women. But I’ve only really made love to one.”

You were certain your cheeks were redder than cherries at this point.

“Roger, I….” you trailed off. “I don’t know what to say. I had no idea it all meant so much to you. Especially with the way you left.”

He hung his head. “I know. But I hope you believe me.”

“I do,” you assured him. “I just wonder what made you think of all that?”

“Glen’s comments today were a part of it,” he said. “But also, a few weeks ago, you said we couldn’t because my divorce wasn’t final. But, it’s final now, and I’ve been thinking about being with you ever since I signed that paper.”

Your blush impossibly deepened.

“Plus, seeing you in that courtroom is incredibly sexy,” he added with a laugh.

You laughed too, relaxing you a bit.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” you admitted. “I’m just nervous.”

“Why?” he wondered. “By my memory, we were very good.”

You smiled. “I think I’m just afraid that if we try, then what we had before might not be there. And then what?”

“Y/N, it’s gonna be there,” he said, squeezing your hand. “I love you and you love me. That passion is there. Which is especially clear after today.” He took a deep breath. “But if you’re not ready, we can wait.”

You didn’t reply right away. Honestly, seeing him leap to your defense the way he did had turned you on, though you didn’t want to admit it. And every time he kissed you, you remembered how good it felt to go further with him. But your fear was real. What if it wasn’t the same as it used to be? There was only one way to find out.

“Roger?”

“Yes, love?”

“Kiss me.”

He almost jumped out of his chair to come around the table to take you up in his arms. He lifted you to your feet and claimed your lips in a tender embrace. He moved slowly, giving you the opportunity to stop him if you wanted. But you wanted the opposite.

You opened your mouth against his, and he reacted immediately, slipping his tongue between your lips. The kiss was heavy with the pent up desire you had both been feeling. Your mind was fuzzy, like getting drunk, but you were acutely aware of his hands sliding up your sides. His thumbs brushed your ribcage, just barely touching the underside of your breasts.

You whimpered into his mouth and reached for the buttons of your blazer. He helped you shrug it off your shoulders and it fell to the floor. Beneath, you had just your plain white tank top and pencil skirt. He stopped kissing you to look over your body in the form fitting clothes. You saw the hungry look in his eyes and bit your lip.

Your lips already itched to feel his again. All of your skin was tingling with the desire for his touch. You watched him observe you, chest rising and falling with your deep, desperate breaths.

When he met your gaze again, you couldn’t contain it anymore. You crashed upon him. Pressing into him to be as close as possible. His arms snaked around your waist to hold you there, his eagerness to be close as evident as yours. Then his hands made their way south and he gripped handfuls of your ass.

You gasped and let out a husky breath, pushing even further into him. He groaned and you felt his hardness pressing into your lower stomach. You stopped kissing him to catch your breath and reach for the buttons of his shirt.

“Fuck that,” he panted, and he pulled it over his head while you giggled.

When his shirt had joined your jacket, you had your turn to admire him. You ran your fingers delicately down his torso. His skin was warm.

“I guess we should be matching,” you teased, and you tugged your tank top off as well.

Roger’s eyes on you as you reached back and unclasped your bra had you reeling. That was what you missed about making love to him. No one else had ever desired you so passionately.

With your breasts free, he took direct action. He cupped one in each hand and squeezed gently, massaging them before tweaking each nipple between his fingers. Your head fell back with a groan as the sensation sent more heat straight to your core. He attached his lips to your neck, whispering into your skin.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, love. God, I’ve missed you.”

You whined in returned, arching your back toward him. He pulled you close again. The heat of his body sent a chill up your spine.

“Wanna move to the bedroom, love?” he asked.

You nodded. He scooped you up and carried you in there as you giggled. You yelped with surprise when he tossed you on the bed and crawled up to join you. The next kisses were fervent and needy. You moaned again.

Roger’s fingers moved down your front and nimbly popped the buttons of your skirt before tugging the zipper down. You did not wear panty hose. You liked the way your legs looked without them, and you knew you could distract an opposing male lawyer if need be. You played dirty too sometimes.

You pushed your thong down your legs as Roger worked off his jeans. He groaned at the sight of you bare before him, sprawled out and breathless from his kisses. You smirked at him with cat like playfulness as you sat up. You gently pulled the waistband of his boxers down, slowly, watching his face as you went. Beads of sweat formed at his hairline from your torturous pace.

“Fuck, baby, I need you,” he sighed.

With a grin, you swiftly removed his boxers, and he kicked them off the bed. Then, you took hold of his hips, rubbing soft little circles into the slightly protruding bones. He hissed with anticipation.

Then, you gave him what he wanted. You licked a stripe up his cock. A loud groan came from his throat. You swirled your tongue around his tip before wrapping your lips around him and taking him down. He let out such a delicious moan your mouth watered around him.

You began with a slow pace. Dragging your mouth forward and back, teasing him. His short, eager breaths egged you on. You saw him trembling trying to maintain control, but after you hollowed out your cheeks and really sucked, his hips jerked forward. You almost gagged, but held back.

“Sorry,” he choked out. “God, it feels so good.”

He buried his fingers in your hair and pulled you off of him. That was typical. Roger preferred not to cum in your mouth, and he refused to finish before you had gotten one or two orgasms of your own. Usually more.

You licked your lips and looked expectantly at him. He took your shoulders and lay you back. Your legs fell open for him. He got onto his knees there, but didn’t settle on top of you. Instead, he kissed you again. He teased your lips with his tongue, and you opened up. He explored your mouth, getting you all hot again, before pulling away.

He nipped and sucked along your jawbone and down the soft skin of your neck. He trailed across your collarbones, down your chest - briefly stopping to suck on each of your nipples - and then made his way down your stomach. He slowed down the closer he got to your pelvis. Roger was not an explorer trekking out into new territory. He was coming home. He recalled every sensitive spot on your body. What made you moan, sigh, and giggle. He exploited this knowledge to the full extent as he made his way down. It made your whole body light up with excitement and need. Finally, you whined impatiently and pushed your hips up.

With a cocky chuckle, he took his tongue to your folds. You gasped sharply as your back arched. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked lightly, just how you liked it.

“Oh! Roger!” you cried, heels digging into the mattress.

He moaned into you, the vibrations sending an extra thrill all the way up your body. You’d almost forgotten how extraordinarily well he used his tongue and mouth. He was zeroed in on your clit, making you writhe around as you released pathetic whimpers and soft cries of his name.

The pressure was building inside you as he worked your core with his mouth. Your voice raised several octaves and your legs quivered as you hurtled toward the sweet release. When you were on the cusp, he sank a finger into you. You groaned so deeply you felt him smile against you. He curled his finger toward himself, pushing on your g-spot with expert precision.

“Rog - oh fuck!” you nearly sobbed.

He added a second finger, stretching you just slightly. Your walls clamped down around him as he drove you further toward the edge.

“Please, please,” you begged, panting.

He sped up, knowing just what you needed. Between the flicks of his tongue and the thrusts of his fingers, you were there. Your legs stiffened, your back arched high off the bed, a scream tore from your throat as it hit you. The wave of pleasure crashed over you, and Roger did not relent as you began to come down, shaking with the sensation of it all.

He eased you down, slowing his pace before removing the contact. Your body quivered. He smiled, pleased with himself, and he crawled back over you again to help with the shivering. Hot as you were during, you were always cold after an orgasm, so he held you a moment.

You were panting too hard for him to kiss you properly, so he peppered your face and neck with pecks. When you giggled, he knew you were okay.

His hips settled between your thighs, and you gasped as his cock brushed your entrance. Then you moaned.

“Ready for more, sweetheart?” he asked, running his finger along your jaw.

You nodded. “Please, more.”

You didn’t even worry about sounding pathetic. You could be anything with Roger - strong, weak, pathetic, needy, vulnerable, bitchy, sweet, sexy - all of it. Any side of yourself was accepted and loved by him.

He rested on his forearms, cupping your face between his hands, and he slid into you. It was like magic. He fit so perfectly inside you - with just enough stretch to make you whimper with need. You both took a moment to revel in being together again. Being completely united.

You locked eyes. You understood what he meant earlier. Your souls met behind your irises. You had never felt more connected to him. And from the soft look in his eyes, you knew he felt the same.

“I love you so much,” he sighed.

“I love you too,” you returned.

You turned your face and took his finger into your mouth, a weakness of his. His eyes fell closed and his hips rutted forward, deeper into you. You squeaked with surprise and then chuckled, moving to match him.

You fell easily into a rhythm together. It flowed as naturally as the tides. Roger filled you with each thrust, and you climbed slowly together back up to the edge. His name escaped your lips as he rocked into you. Delicate declarations of his love and your beauty swept off his breath. You didn’t hear them, but you felt them.

He sped up and it was like coming out of a fog. Each snap of his hips shook you and you clutched onto his shoulders for dear life. Your moans rose in volume and octave as you found yourself clenching around him again.

“Oh - Roger - Oh God -”

“I’m so close, baby,” he grunted. “Please, one more for me.”

He removed his hand from its proximity to your face and slid it between your bodies, finding your clit as if it were magnetized. He rubbed tight, fast circles on it, and your vision began to blur.

The second one hit you harder and more suddenly. White exploded behind your eyes as your walls fluttered around his cock. Roger cried your name once more and spilled into you, slowing down his thrusts as you peaked together. You twitched against him as he guided you back down steadily. He slowed to a stop and watched you panting beneath him.

He inched himself out of you. You still winced at the feeling. Once he was able, he rolled off you and you crawled into his arms. You needed his warmth.

“Mmm, Rog,” you hummed, pulling him closer.

“Good?” he asked.

“Incredible,” you replied.

“I don’t wanna speak too soon, but I think we’ve still got it,” he teased.

You smiled lazily. “We do.”

“What do you need now, love?”

“Sleep,” you said through a yawn.

He chuckled. “Of course you do.”

He kissed your forehead and you both drifted off. All worries about your relationship and the trial were forgotten. For now, you could just be.

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