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rogermyreligion · 10 months

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The masseuse

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Female Reader.

Summary: You're the masseuse of Roger Taylor, drummer for Queen, but things get more personal as the sessions progress.

Warnings: smut, hand jobs, unprotected sex, slight nipple play.

Word Count: 3k

You were the masseur of several drummers at this point, even athletes, you are used to that level of people, you knew how to handle your nerves, you know that you do your job in an incredible way and that is why you have that reputation.

But Roger Taylor was a thing, he has a personality that you were not used to receive in your sessions, of course you ran into very nice people, but he was a very talkative man, very charming, very polite, extremely soft-spoken. The first time he broke the ice in such a way that you felt your cheeks getting hot, but he never crossed the line in an awkward way. It was a special client.

"So, why did you stop being a model?" he asked softly, while taking off his shirt and kicking his shoes, he looked at you a little from the corner of his eye to catch your reaction.

It took you by surprise, normally your clients don't talk too much, they’d tell you a few things, they’d tell you about some pain they have, etc. You giggled while rubbing your hands with a special gel, "Alright, very funny of you,"

He chuckled, "Sorry, I know that wasn't original, I'm sure you’ve heard better ones," he slowly lay face down on the comfortable massage table, feeling your footsteps getting closer.

"Not really, let's just say I'm not used to this type of comment, not from my clients,"

He felt a slight fear in his chest, "Oh- sorry, didn't mean to offended you," he tried to raise his head to look at you apologetically.

Now you laughed loudly, "Oh no, believe me you didn't," you pushed him down again, slowly with a hand on his shoulder, "Tell me Roger, you want me to start with your lower back?" you asked gently, smiling to yourself, redirecting your attention to your work and maintaining your professionalism.

He smiled to himself too, knowing he didn't cross any line. "Yes please,"

The sessions with Roger were amusing, and of course you weren't going to lie, he was an extremely attractive man with strong magnetism, he knew how to take the conversations where he wanted and had the power to make you feel very comfortable. He could make you feel that the two of you were having a special connection even if it wasn't even happening, he was very engaging.

After the 3rd session you found out his love situation, just out of curiosity (or so you thought) It turned out that according to internet articles and newspapers he had divorced last year.

Interesting.

"Fuck," he groaned, "Sorry-" he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the pain.

He was sitting on the couch, both of your hands were massaging the upper part of his right arm, going to his shoulder, the warmth of the room and the smell of the vanilla candles that you had lit minutes before he entered were making him fall asleep, softening it to the maximum.

"Yeah, you're contracted, when was the last time you rehearsed with the band?" you subtly asked, squeezing his shoulder with your fingers, noticing the hardness of his muscles, he was quite stiff, more than normal actually.

"A week ago, we took a short break because we had some problems," he told you, not glad at all, "Ouch" he complained hard when you touched a specific spot.

You frowned, stopping abruptly, thinking. He almost never complained out loud, always little whimpers, grunts or sighs.

He noticed your sudden lack of movement, he shot you a glance.

It was like you were just aware of his face, he was not well, he had bags under his eyes, his face screamed that he was exhausted, not only physically, but also mentally, you could tell.

Words can lie, but the body can’t do it as well, you have learned this over the years.

"Can you lift your chin a bit for me please?" you asked gently.

He did as you said, "Like this?"

You hummed in agreement, "Now turn your head to the left, face the wall,"

He did it.

You started concentrating on the junction of his shoulder and his ear, grazing your index finger, applying a little pressure. And to your not surprise, he had such a contracture that you could even swear that it had reached his jaw.

"Roger are you okay?" That question came out more directly than you had thought.

He found your question a little unexpected but he didn't feel invaded, in fact he enjoyed the talks in the sessions, even though there wasn't much that was discussed about.

"Yes, what was that for?"

"You're not okay, sorry that im telling you this but you're so tense," you realized you were literally invading his personal space, after all you were just his masseuse, not a therapist, automatically shook your head, "Never mind, im sorry, I'm going to apply some heat packs," you quickly changed the subject, a little embarrassed.

He followed your steps with his eyes, seeing how you searched for the heat bags, and after a long silence, he sighed, "My ex is driving me nuts," he blurted out.

You stopped your searching, calming yourself down now knowing he didn’t took it in an akward way, he was speaking and liberating himself from the stress, you grabbed one of the bags and started to fill it with hot water, you didn't expect him to continue talking but he did.

"He just won't leave me alone," weariness in his voice, "It's choking,"

You walked over to the couch with the hot bag, you gave him a compassionate look and stood behind him as you were before, gently resting the bag on the side of his neck, applying just a little pressure as you felt his body melt under the heat, with your other hand you began to massage his other shoulder, your movements were so slow that they were almost hypnotizing. You felt him sigh.

He closed his eyes, "And the band is going through a difficult time," he was focused on the hand that was touching his body, "It's just a lot you know, can't sleep well," he chuckled.

"It's normal, the body stores all our emotions, if they are mismanaged they can manifest as physical pain, that's why I asked you what was going on, sometimes just saying it out loud can relax you enough," you explained, the hand that wasn't holding the bag was working behind his neck.

His head began to fall forward slowly, "You're right" he paused, "The only good thing that happened to me these last few days was coming to your sessions," he laughed tenderly.

It all started to feel so personal, you were becoming aware of the atmosphere, the heat, the sweet smell, the softness of her skin on her contracture, the tips of his blond hair touching the back of your hand, you could hear his breathing, a chill ran through your back appreciating the present moment.

Your heart stopped beating for a moment, "Really?" you said as you put the heat pack on his other shoulder.

"Yeah, it's nice here, you're nice too," he confessed.

You giggled to yourself.

"It always smells good in here, your voice is soothing," he recounted, "And your hands are bloody amazing," he laughed, “They are made of gold, such a privilege,”

And again, that kind of comments that made you blush.

With his last sentence you felt a wave of self-confidence, "Yeah, people always tell me the same thing," you joked, intertwining some fingers with the hair that rested on his neck, causing him to shiver, you leaned just a bit closer to his ear, “Vainilla the candles, if you were wondering,” your tone was no longer profesional.

You really wanted to pull that hair and kiss that neck, you could smell his shampoo, it was intoxicatingly delicious.

Suddenly you had an idea.

"So, same hour tomorrow?" you suggested, you shifted your tone abruptly enough to make him blink, putting away the heat pack and moving closer to him again.

He froze for a moment, not understanding what you were asking him, plus, he was sleepy, "Wasn't it my turn on Friday? What day is today?"

You were amused, you subtly licked your lips, "I think you could use a session with me tomorrow," you placed a hand on his cheek, "I can take care of all that tension," your thumb grazing over his dark circles under his eyes , "The stress," your thumb now finding its way to his mouth.

And just as he was about to suck it, you pulled your hand away. He was totally drugged by your movements, your voice and your words.

You smiled widely, "So, im asking again, same hour tomorrow?"

He had a dopey smile on his face, tugging his lower lip between his teeth, now his smile turned into a big smirk, "Yes, I think it is fine,"

It was 4:25 pm, 5 minutes left for Roger to arrive.

Meanwhile you closed the curtains and turned off the big, bright lights, you only left a dim light from a nightstand, it illuminated enough to see clearly but gave it a much more cozy touch. You also lit the same candles, the room began to fill with a delectable smell but it was not suffocating, just perfect. Next to the armchair table you left a neutral oil for massages. You made sure to postpone the sessions you had for today, you were wondering if this was a mistake, but the reality is that you are doing a favor for a client, you are going to make him feel good, that's all.

The remaining 5 minutes passed very slowly until Roger finally arrived, "Hi there," he grinned.

You analyzed him all at once, those comfortable pants he wore, marking and embracing the contour of his legs, noticing the prominent bulge between his legs, something tells you that this man was already thinking about this situation in advance and that made your heart beat with emotion.

"Come in, make yourself comfortable on the couch," you moved to the side and let him in, locking the door.

Roger came in and sat down just as you said, shifting a bit to find comfort, "Yesterday was rough, my ex-" he started to tell you but you covered his mouth with your hand behind the couch.

"Don't worry, you don't have to talk," your hand exerting pressure while your other hand was sliding to the elastic of his pants, "Not about her," you mumbled, you noticed that he didn't bring boxers, you felt a heat between your legs, "Wanna feel good Rog? wanna be good for me now?"

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, he nodded and you moved to position yourself between his legs, kneeling in front of him.

When you started to pull his pants down he stopped you, "Kiss me" he sounded needy.

You moved towards his face and your lips crashed into his, it started slow, both mouths moved almost choreographed, he slid his hand behind your neck, increasing the pressure a bit, sinking you into his face, you parted your lips and he slipped his tongue inside, toying with yours, you could hear slight humming coming out of his mouth, it was hot, he was hungry.

You bit his lower lip, a little hard, "Fuck," he groaned, "You are beautiful," he made eye contact, his pupils wide, his blue eyes burning you, making you breath heavily.

You grabbed him with both hands, kissing him, devouring him, you broke the kiss and he almost whined in response, "Already needed?" you said rubbing the bulge of his pants.

He bucked his hips toward your hand, "All your fault," he chuckled with a groan, "Are you going to do something about it?" he caresses the back of your neck but suddenly he tugged at your hair, marking dominance, "Maybe you could put that pretty little mouth to work," his tone was serious.

You bit your lip, you lowered his pants, his cock went flat to his tummy, it was big, and you could feel it throbbing, after a few seconds of admiration you grabbed the bottle of oil, spreading a little on your hands, rubbing them.

Roger followed your every move with his gaze, wetting his lips as he watched as your hand gripped his cock, the oil was warm and it felt nice, the sensation forcing him to relax on the couch.

Your hand began to go up and down, it slipped easily, slick noises already making you wet.

"Oh," he groaned, throwing his head back, your hands quickening the movement, watching his chest going up and down.

It felt good as you massaged him slowly, brushing your thumb over his tip, a bit of precum already coming out, your other hand went to the base of his cock, squeezing a little as you listened to his chocked moans.

"Y/N-fuck," he moaned, the sensation was incredible, "Feels so good," he mumbled, digging his nails into the couch when you increased speed, he closed his eyes.

"Mhmm," you giggled, feeling empowered, "That was what I wanted, watching you relax, all blissful because you are about to cum," you said while toying with him, looking at the sight of him, his cheeks were a bit red because the heat of the room and the candles, slightly oh coming out of his mouth every second.

He’d smile at everything you said, you could tell he was enjoying it, sometimes he tried to thrust his hips against your hand to feel more pleasure, and that's when you slowed down, playing with his pleasure but not making him suffer.

You were growing impatient, feeling the tickle between your legs while you watched him enjoy, this was not on your plans but you couldn't resist much more, you suddenly stopped and he whined, "Fuck me," you blurted, unbuttoning your pants and taking them off with your panties.

His eyes lit up, a smirk quickly formed in his mouth as he watched you undress, "I wanted to fuck you the second i entered to this room the first time," he said grabbing you by your hips.

You jumped over him, straddling his hips, your hands resting behind his neck, both faces inches apart, breathing each other air, heavy gasps coming in and out. Roger gripped your hips, pushing you down so he could graze himself in order to get some relief.

You grinned, wiggling your hips over him, your pussy lips embracing his cock, the oil and your wetness lubricating and facilitating the situation down there, “Please,” he chocked a giggle, “Dont tease,” he shot you a plead look, trying to push you down.

But you resisted, chuckling, “So eager,” you kept your wiggling.

“Well, give me something else to put my attention on,” he chuckled a gasp, taking off your shirt, his eyes droping to your tits, watching your lack of bra, “Now thats what im talking about,” he cupped them with both hands, bringing one nipple to his mouth, twisting it with his tongue.

You gasped, pushing your tits out.

He glanced at you, pleased with himself, “Oh you like it?” he circled both nipples with his thumbs, watching you squirm under his touch.

You started to look for the tip of his cock, you wanted to sink down so bad.

He hummed a giggle, “Eager?” he bit your nipple softly, happy with your whining.

“Fuck Roger,” you finally found it, sinking down on his cock, “Oh- god,” you closed your eyes.

He erupted a groan so loud that you clenched around him, “Yes- please mov- move now,” he demanded, his hands returned to your hips.

You started to jump, feeling full all of sudden, your tits bouncing in front of his face, “Fuck- this is bloody amazing,” he moaned, his hands timing your jumps, eyes fixed on your tits, “Touch yourself,”

You brought your hands to your tits, squeezing so hard, “Please, Rog,”

“Let me enjoy th-this,” he moaned, grabbing the bottle of oil, spilling a little on your naked body, the warmth embracing your skin. His hands began to wander around your neck, your tits, going through your chest until they covered your entire waist and squeezing your ass. The way his hands slid easily through the oil was arousingly hot.

You tugged at his hair, trying to relieve yourself.

He found you lovely, your skin shined because of the liquid, pretty moans coming out of your throat, watching his cock appearing and disappearing. When he wanted to realize his legs were already shaking, his orgasm approaching, you were jumping frantically.

“Fuck- Y/N, im coming-“

You took him by his neck, pushing him against the couch, your other hand finding your clit, rubbing as fast as if your life depended on it, “Oh- oh, so close,”

He was gasping, biting his lip, closing his eyes as your orgasm hit you like a train. As your climax faded, your movements began to slow, returning to stillness, moaning and clenching, riding through your orgasm.

He stayed you still as you were clenching, it seemed to help him reach the peak of his pleasure, moaning and shooting his load of cum inside you, panting like an animal. “Jesus Y/N,” he chuckled, fighting for air.

You laughed, “How you feel now,” you said while you brushed some baby hairs from his forehead.

His smile was wide, “So good,” he swallowed hard, “So fucking good,”

You patted his chest, trying to get out and come back to your feet but he tugged you down again.

He looked at you, “Can we stay like this for a bit,” his soft voice touching your heart, “Feels nice,” he was drawing abstract patterns in your back.

How could you say no?

“Yeah,” you sighed contently, giving him a quick kiss and hugging him around his neck as he closed his eyes, he started to give you lazy kisses over your shoulder.

“Cup of tea after this?” you mumbled, offering.

He chuckled, “You are godsend,”

Masterlist

#roger taylor #roger x reader #fic #smut #smutty #requests open #queen band #request #roger meddows taylor #my writing #fluff #fluffy #my prompts #so cute #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x y/n

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pebblewritesj · 1 year

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hello! could you write something about being brian may’s younger sibling and dating roger taylor?<3

You had the BIGGEST crush on Roger Taylor.

Brian knew you far too well to not realize, he brought it up one day and you very reluctantly admit that you thought he was so fine.

When the two of you get together, you're so embarrassed at the fact that your dating one of your brother's closest friends LMAO

Brian knows.

You guys are sort of obvious about it? Like on accident you two fr think no one catches on but they do.

Roger thinks you guys are so slick, like he deadass thinks Brian has no idea.

Brian will give Roger weird looks when you and him joke around together, sometime's Roger will pull you aside and be like 'Do you think he's catching on, do you think he's catching on?'

Like yes Roger he's caught on.

Brian finally tells Roger that he knows and Roger is DUMBFOUNDED

"How long have you known, then?" "About two weeks." "WHAT?"

He was literally kind of disappointed he was like 'am I actually that bad at keeping secrets'

(he is)

Brian is very happy for you though.

Not as happy for Roger, but he's happy you're finally in a happy relationship.

The thing is, he's not too happy that it's with Roger.

"Why him?" "He's cute." "And?" "Funny, nice, respectful--" "Nice? Respectful? I thought you were dating Roger, not John."

He learns to love it after a while, when he finally gains trust of Roger.

Roger pulls him aside one day and is like 'ok can you cut this shit, I really like your sister stop being sour about it.'

Stuff like that.

Brian was shocked, never in his life had Roger done something like that in context of a relationship.

He was like 'ok, yeah, fine'

So now he loves you guys.

#roger taylor hcs #roger taylor headcannons #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #queen #queen x reader #queen fic #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may hcs #brian may headcanons

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rogertaylorshbb · 1 year

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"after concert" roger Taylor x reader imagine

hi, this is just a short imagine I have been working on. I've been trying to work and get better on my smut writing skills. the smut I've written in the past has been Absolutely horrible, don't know how anyone actually even read it. if you wanna tell me your thoughts about if its good smut or not, please comment!! but anyway enjoyy!!♥♥

Roger came up from behind you, his loud footsteps and heavy breathing making his presence known. You could see his sweat dripping down his chest as he whipped his sweat with a towel. Roger groaned, staring at you, he walked over to you gently placing his hands on your shoulders. “You look nice,” “Mhm, you like this outfit?”. “Yea, makes you look so fuckable” he groaned desperately. Roger smiled, his tongue grazing the top of his teeth. “Hey, why don't you be a good girl for me?” he whispered. You nodded, guessing what he had in mind.

Roger slowly started to undo the buttons on your shirt, his hands sloppy with frustration but once he got the buttons undone he was fast to cup your breast desperately as he softly let his fingers wander passionately. You moaned over the sensation of Roger's overworked hands gripping at you. He Lightly took your nipple between his teeth as he trailed down your body.

You slid your skirt off and Roger smiled.

“Good girl,”

He reached for the sides of the chair you were on, kneeling to the floor.

Roger sensually glided his fingertips along the inside of your thigh, a shaky gasp escaping your lips.

“fuck-”

“Already so wet,” Roger groaned.

roger let his hands grip your things sucking on the soft skin, you could feel there was gonna be marks the next day

You whined because of his teasing.

“Don't worry, by the end you'll be a soaking incoherent mess”

Roger then slid two fingers into your cunt slowly, then Sucking harshly over your sensitive clit.

You moaned uncontrollably.

His perfect stamina and speed makes your drip onto his hands.

He smirked seeing you frantically gasp and tremble.

You could feel his fingers pushing into you as his swollen lips and wet tongue roughly sucked at your clit.

You could feel yourself reaching climax but to your disappointment he moved his mouth away from your clit, and pulled his two fingers out from you as a wet sound followed.

“Roger please” you desperately begged.

“Don't worry I'm not gonna stop, just figuring out what way I should let you finish”

You tilted your head back. “God” you breathed.

Roger placed his hands on your hip-bones pushing himself up. You melted yourself into the chair as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“Please, roger, just fuck me”.

“sit on the make-up desk”

You quickly stood up propping yourself up onto the desk.

He carelessly took his clothes off.

As he walked close to you, you ran your fingers over his hard penis. “Uh uh” he tutted “you can suck me off after if you want to, but now, I just wanna be inside you”.

Roger looked into your eyes.

He grabbed you hips needlingly and slid himself into you, your loud gasp making him chuckle.

Roger's head fell forward to your chest, his hair falling in front of his face as he closed his eyes in pleasure.

He started to pound into you recklessly but still so loving at the same time. Letting his hair fall onto his face and he groaned louder.

“I- fuck- it feels so- jesus christ” you stuttered.

Roger roughly grunted as his fingertips dug into your hips.

You reached your orgasm, your fingernails digging into his back as his warm breath breathed into your shoulder.

Roger then jolted as he came into you, his soft groans and whimpers.

“Fuck, your so amazing” he whispered his eyes scanning your body.

He slowly slid out of you, his fingertips touching your wetness. Roger examined your cum covering his hands. “I'll get you a towel”.

Roger picked up a clean towel and carefully whipped all the mess off you including his cum. After he picked up his pants and underwear sliding them back on.

You walked over to him.

“Are you tired?”

“A bit” Roger chuckled, “why?”

“Well remember what you said earlier? About me being able to suck you off…..only if your still-”

“y/n, i'm never too tired for that”

He slid his pants back off falling into the chair.

I've tried my best with this, but I still think it feels a bit awkward 😭. I hope it is good to the person reading this. I'm also gonna write part 2! anyway, again, hope you enjoyed!!

@sarcastic-sourwolf

#roger taylor smut #queen smut #smut #smutty #fluff #concert #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor fan fic #x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger meddows taylor #roger taylor queen #fanfic queen #queen fanfiction

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 months

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But You Can Never Leave

Series Summary: You are an overwhelmed and disenchanted nurse in Boston, Massachusetts. Queen is an eccentric British rock band you’ve never heard of. But once your fates intertwine in the summer of 1974, none of your lives will ever be the same…

Chapter 1: Needles And Fretboards

Chapter 2: Accept The Fucking Offer

Chapter 3: Signed In Blood

Chapter 4: City Of Dreams

Chapter 5: Don’t Even Think About It

Chapter 6: Something Borrowed, Something Blue

Chapter 7: Forget Everything You Know

Chapter 8: The Light

Chapter 9: Follow The Rules

Chapter 10: Premonitions

Chapter 11: The Rush

Chapter 12: The Mirror

Chapter 13: Paper And Ink

Chapter 14: Fever

Chapter 15: Midnight Manhattan

Chapter 16: A Different Kind Of Life

Chapter 17: Shadows

Chapter 18: Summers In Florence

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

#john deacon x reader #roger taylor x reader #queen fic

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thelastdj · 1 year

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Green

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Queen!reader

Genre: flooff

Summary: after the infamous hair dye mishap, (y/n) changes their hair color in solidarity

Warnings: none

I woke up this morning to a loud shrieking coming from somewhere in the house.

“Roger?”

The bed next to me was empty and I got scared. What if something happened to him?

Another yell echoed through the house and I finally got up. There was an old tennis racket in the closet, which I grabbed as I carefully walked into the hall. It wasn’t gonna do much damage but at least it was something.

“Roger?” I called out again, “Are you there?”

“(y/n)?” his voice called from down the hall. Why on earth was he screaming in the bathroom at 7am on a Saturday?

I banged on the bathroom door, “Roger? Rog, are you okay? Open up.”

“I’m okay, don’t worry love”

“Then open up”

“I… I can't,” he said from the other side.

“Is the lock stuck? Hold on, I’ll go get a screwdriver-“

“No!” he sounded panicked.

“My god Roger you’re acting as if you’ve got a girl hidden in there,” I rolled my eyes before rethinking what I’d said, “You don’t, right?”

He scoffed, “Of course I don’t (y/n).”

“C’mon, then what’s so bad that you locked yourself in a bathroom?”

He paused for a few moments. “Please don’t laugh.”

The bathroom lock clicked and Roger finally opened it. At first he looked fine, still dressed in pajamas. And then I saw the atrocity he was hiding. His hair, his beautiful blond locks, that hair that everyone admired, was now a violent shade of green. His face was pulled into an almost comical frown. Despite his plea, I couldn’t help myself, the scene before me was just too funny.

“(y/n),” he whined, “You promised you wouldn’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you.”

“Yeah right,” he grumbled.

“Aw, come on Rog, it’s really not that bad,” I said, running my hands through his newly dyed hair.

“We have a show tonight (y/n)” he said, “I have to go out there with green hair for hundreds of people to see.”

•••

We arrived at the theater at 5pm for sound check. It was a nice place, room for over a thousand people, and we all had our own dressing rooms. I loved the rest of the band, but there were only so many flying hairbrushes I could dodge.

Naturally, the first thing we heard as we made our way backstage was Brian’s, “Nice hair mate.”

“Shut up,” Roger grumbled.

“Hi (y/n),” Brian greeted me cheerily before turning back to Roger, “What on earth were you trying to do?”

Roger desperately looked over at me for help. I just shrugged. As much as I felt bad for him, it was his own mess. And what a funny mess it was too.

“I was trying to dye it blonde,” he said in a small voice.

“Blonde?” John asked incredulously, “You were trying to dye your already blonde hair blonde?”

“I wanted a different kind of blonde.”

“Roger darling, I hate to break it to you but blonde is blonde,” Freddie joked.

“(y/n) they’re bullying me.”

“Aww come here you poor thing,” I dramatically threw my arms around him, “You boys leave Roger alone. Run off and tune your instruments now.”

“You’re no fun,” Freddie replied in mock-annoyance.

But they did leave, one by one, all going to their own dressing room to get ready. The start of the show was drawing nearer by the minute and there were costumes to be donned and guitars to be tuned and eyeliner to be perfected. I too had a lot of preparing to do. There was something I had planned that might make Roger feel at least a little better about his hair.

“Is my hair really that bad?” Roger asked once everyone else had left.

Though he had laughed off the other’s comments, he sounded genuinely worried about going on tonight. I hadn’t seen him like this before a show since the band had started.

“I promise, it’s not as bad as they’re saying. You know them, they have to poke a little fun. They don’t mean it,” I reassured him.

Roger nodded and kissed me gently on the forehead.

“Am I still pretty though?” he asked, batting his eyes. He was right back to his old self.

“You’re still the prettiest boy here.”

“Reeeally?”

“Yes, now go get ready!” I laughed.

He kissed me one last time and headed off to his own dressing room.

We still had an hour left before the show, if I hurried up I would be ready just in time to go on.

•••

“FIVE MINUTES,” a voice boomed through the hall.

I looked in the mirror one last time, messing up my hair just enough to look good, and not like my hairdryer had exploded. The rest of the band was already strapping on guitars and doing last minute warm ups when I got there. Roger’s eyes grew wide as he saw me.

“(y/n)?” he asked in disbelief, “What did you do to your hair?”

Even in the dim backstage lighting, the dyed orange hue of my hair was clearly visible.

“I dyed it,” I explained, “Now you’re not the only one who’s going on looking like they’re from the circus.”

Roger shook his head, “That’s the nicest, and probably dumbest, thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he smiled, “Thank you (y/n/n).”

“Anything for you darling,” I said, giving him a quick kiss.

“TWO MINUTES,” the voice called again.

“Can I ask one thing?”

“Yeah?”

“Why orange?“ he asked jokingly before adding, “At least my green looks cool.”

“Bowie had orange hair and he looks cool as fuck,” I countered.

“I guess you’re right,” he conceded.

“ONE MINUTE.”

Roger quickly leaned over and kissed me. “Good luck,” he smiled and quickly headed over to his drum kit.

I strapped on my guitar and looked over to him one more time. His green hair clashed fantastically with his white shirt. Roger raised his eyebrows as he caught my stare.

I shot him a quick wink as the final call came, “AND… SHOWTIME!”

The last thing I saw before turning to face the crowd was Roger wink back at me. The crowd’s screams and claps were deafening, but soon enough Freddie’s voice overpowered even that.

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #queen x reader #queen imagine #roger taylor #queen #mattie writes

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matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl · 1 year

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Hormones - Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader FanFiction

Summary/AN: I initially intended this to be smut or implied smut, but it came out rather fluffy. I might write a part two if people are interested. The reader is horny and on her period, and has something to share with Roger.

Warnings: mention of periods and pregnancy (non-descrip.), sexual innuendos, etc. Mainly fluff.

Word count: Aprox. 700

Only four months into your relationship you had a pregnancy scare with Roger. Luckily, it was just your period acting up due to stress, but you still decided to go on birth control. Birth control is more acceptable these days, so you were able to get prescribed it rather easily.

Your doctor said, if you’re lucky your period will stop completely. You still got yours but the pill helped regulate your cramps and lowered your flow a bit. You still had horrendous mood swings. Whenever you were in your period you would get insanely horny as well. Hormones are hormones, what would you expect?

You got your monthly yesterday and let Roger know. He always seems a little bummed when you get it, partly because that meant most sexual things were off the table, but also because it pained him to see you in pain.

Roger was sat on the couch, T.V. on a low volume as he flips through a magazine. “These reporters are rubbish. They aren’t reporting anything!” he scowled as he read through the article about the band.

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving his cheek a quick peck. “Whatcha doing?” you ask, and Roger tosses the magazine away.

“Just reading complete and utter lies,” he mumbles, giving the magazine a side eye. He brushes off the ill feelings about the article and turns his head to meet yours, quickly kissing your lips.

“What’s up?” he asks, and you smile. “Nothing much,” you explain. You find your way around the couch and land in Roger lap.

“I know you’re in your period, Y/N,” he says. “You know how I feel about that stuff.” Roger wasn’t entirely grossed out by menstruation, but he felt that you should be taken care of and rest while on your period, not handled like some one night stand.

“Okay, Mr. Jumping-to-conclusion,” you huff. Roger rolls his eyes with a smile. “I’m not saying that you had that intention, but you know how riled up I get when you sit on my lap like this,”

He was right. If you were him, you wouldn’t be able to resist when you had a breathtaking girl straddling your hips who wouldn’t hesitate to start grinding on you at any moment.

You shrug. “Well sorry that I want to show my beautiful boyfriend some love and affection,” you say, crossing your arms in a dramatic way, and Roger laughs. “Don’t be like that,” he chuckled, giving you a kiss which breaks you out of your bit.

“What can I help you with, love?” he asks. You wrap your arms around his neck again, gently gazing into his.

“I want to have a baby,”

Rogers' soft gaze turns wide. “Y-you want to have a baby?” he stammers his words as he confirms your question. You nod and your smile slowly fades. “Do you not want one?” you ask. Roger quickly shakes his head. “No, no. Of course I want a baby. I’d love to have a baby,” his hands slowly move down to your stomach where your child would be resting. “I just- got caught off guard,” he explains.

You smile at his hands on your stomach, imagining you round with his child. “I want your baby.”

“Is this because you’re horny?” he questions. “Maybe,” you say. “But who says a baby has to be made out of pure, non-sexual love, and not lust?”

Roger nods at your point. “Well you’re going to have to stop taking your pills if you’re serious about this,” he explains. “I’m serious,” you tell him.

You've been thinking about this for a long time, actually. Even before you began dating you imagined yourself round with Rogers child, and his strong arms wrapped around to cup your stomach.

His lips suddenly crash with yours. He smiled against the kiss, humming as his hands moved up to grip your hair lovingly. You breathlessly part from the kiss. Roger leans his forehead against yours. “We’re gonna have a baby…” he whispers, and you smile. “Mhm…” you hum as his hands gently hold the non-existence fetus in your stomach. “You’re gonna be the best daddy there ever was…”

You hear a small snicker from Roger. “Trying to get me even more riled up?” he jokes. You hit his shoulder and laugh. “Shut up,” you say. He grins and gives you another kiss. “And you’re going to be the best mommy in the world, I promise…”

#roger taylor #queen band #fan fiction #roger meddows taylor #roger taylor fanfics #roger taylor queen #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor fandom #roger taylor fluff #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor drummer #roger taylor smut #queen #queen fandom #queen fanfiction #queen roger taylor #roger taylor queen band #pregnancy fic

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magickcandie · 5 months

Text

Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

(not my gif)

You weren’t necessarily dating Roger but it was well known he favored you. Everyone liked being around you but it wasn’t the same as it was with Roger. However on this particular afternoon, you had received a phone call from Brian and he didn’t disclose that much information. He said the address of the hotel and just said “Quick! It’s Roger.” Frankly that could mean a lot of things but either way you were on the next taxi there. When you had reached the door, you carefully knocked on it. Immediately it swung open and John ran from the room. His shirt was ripped, hanging on his shoulder. Freddie followed after, not bothering to say anything but one thing. “The gremlin is in there.” You peeked through the door and saw Brian talking to Roger who… was holding a TV! “Roger?” “Y/N! Thank God!! Help me! Your boyfriend is insane!” Brian shouted. You wanted to laugh. “What’s happening?” “He was angry after rehearsal.” “Angry at who?” “All of them! They’re ruining my song!” Roger shouted, taking a threatening step towards the window. Brian rolled his eyes. “It just needs help, Rog. Doesn’t mean you need to throw a telly out the window.” “You can go, Bri, I can handle this.” He seemed more than happy to leave and turned to exit the hotel room. “Come on, Rog, put it down. What if we get a drink instead?” It took a little more persuading and having to actually grab the TV from him, but you managed to walk him down to the bar. You thought about Brian said. “Brian said something.” Roger said first. “Oh? Right. Do you… I mean-” “Y/N, I really like you. I think you’re on of the best things to happen to me.” You smiled at him, taking his hand in yours. “I fancy you too, Roger.” He nudged your shoulder, clinking your glasses together and taking a drink.

Freddie held his hand on his hip. “Damn.” “I told you I’d win.” “Did you plan for Roger to angry! You could’ve planned anything else so he didn’t rip my shirt.” John argued, looking down at his borrowed shirt from Freddie. “No I didn’t plan for his anger. I just said boyfriend in front on Y/N and hoped she’d over think it.”

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #fem reader #request

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rainobrienn · 2 years

Text

Back to the old house - Roger Taylor :)

Warnings: kissing, swearing, little angst, not proofread

Parings: Roger Taylor x Reader

Notes: just a cute little fluff, my queen obsession is coming back :)

Word count: 2.2k

————————————-

“Are you sure you have everything?” Your roommate Harmony asked once again, “Yes, I’m sure I do,” you said nodding your head and packing your last bag. “You better, because if you call me and ask me to bring you something,-“ “I owe you twenty bucks, I know,” you said, knowing the promise you made her. She smiled at you and nodded, walking out of your room.

You were going on a ten hour road trip, TEN HOURS! it was gonna be a fun, yet painful ride. But, you couldn’t refuse. John was practically on his knees begging for you to come, he was your best friend, and you couldn’t say no to him. It was his birthday soon as-well, and they were doing a couple shows up in Las Vegas, so of course you had to tag along.

You tried to convince him to let you meet him there, so you wouldn’t have to sit in a vehicle with the other members of the band for ten hours. Actually, so you wouldn’t have to sit in a vehicle with Roger for ten hours.

He was probably one of the most gorgeous men you have ever met, but also the most annoying, nerve racking, eye rolling playboy you’ve ever met in your entire life. He knew how to get your last nerve to just snap, and you hated it, absolutely hated it, you also hated the fact that you were secretly totally head over heels for the guy, in love.

But sometimes you just wanted to punch his face in, or just knee him in the balls. And then, other times, you wanted to kiss him and just confess everything to him. You didn’t know which one you wanted more, you thought it was punching and kicking him, but you could never tell.

You sat out the front of your house, on top of one of your three suitcases. Tapping your foot, waiting for the slightly large blue van to pull up, you wore a comfortable outfit considering the long drive, but truthfully you made sure it was just a tad bit revealing. You wanted to gain Rogers attention, maybe to get at him, or maybe just feeling praised by a gorgeous man made you feel confident.

You heard music blaring, and a loud engine to pare with it. You looked up from your book to see the nice blue van, you watched as Brain opened the door for you and crawled out a bit, while John jumped out and helped with your things.

“Hey boys,” you smiled standing up, grabbing one of your suitcases while John grabbed the other two, you peaked in the van to see Roger sitting in the back, an empty seat next to him. You turned to John immediately, “Don’t tell me I’m sitting next to Roger,” you groaned, “Yeah, I’m sorry,” John said with a half smile.

“Why can’t Brian sit next to him!” You exclaimed, “I can hear you,” Roger called out, “Good,” you snapped at him not looking at him, “Im not sitting next to him for ten hours,” Brain said slightly leaning over, facing Roger who flipped him off.

“Plus, me and Brian have some stuff we need to work on, and it’s just, easier,” John stated, giving you a half good reason as to why, you rolled your eyes, knowing nobody was gonna even consider swapping with you, “this is gonna be a long ten hours,” you groaned hoping in next to Roger.

“Trust me princess, I’m not happy about it either,” Roger groaned and moved over a bit, “Don’t call me that,” you scoffed back at him, feeling butterflies at the nickname, but brushing them away pretended to be disgusted by the name.

“Do you have to practice right now?” Brain asked Roger, who had his drumsticks up in the air tapping on the seat that Brian was sitting in, “Yeah, I do,” he said continuing, “Seriously Rog, it’s annoying,” you stated trying to grab the sticks, where he just moved away.

“You’ve never called me Rog before,” He stated holding the sticks behind his head, you scoffed and continued to try and grab them, knowing if you didn’t he would just continue, “Give them!” You said; there was no seatbelt in the back so you easily tried to crawl over him to get them, “No,” he said with a small laugh, finding your behaviour amusing.

You finally grabbed the sticks out of his hands, and when you did you actually realised where you were, you were straddled on top of Roger, you looked down at him with pure shock as his giggle faded, slowly smirking, you scoffed and crawled off of him.

Sitting next to him once again a soft blush on your face, throwing the drum sticks next to John, far away from the annoying, childish, handsome guy sitting next to you. Still, another nine and half hours to go.

“Can you move,” Roger said slightly kicking your foot, you rolled your eyes and kept your legs there, “Move,” he said once again kicking harder, “Asshole,” you kicked up back, “that hurt,” you added onto that, “No it didn’t,” he said, “Yeah it did,” you exclaimed nodding your head, “baby,” he said, “Brat,” you snapped back at him.

“Can you guys not, we are only like nine hours in,” John said turning back, “Mind your business Deacon,” you said to him, agitated by the blonde child, “Can you tell her I need space too,” Roger asked John, John looked down over to see Roger had plenty of room.

“You have plenty of room dickhead,” he scoffed looking at Roger, Roger rolled his eyes and shook his head “Your the fucking brat,” Roger said, “At least I’m not fucking my own car,” you said to him, a small laugh coming out of the boys in the front.

“Ay, don’t bring her into this,” Roger said pointing a finger up at you, you laughed a little “Her?” You asked a small laugh, his face going a little red, “Shut up!” He said seriously, but you just couldn’t take it seriously.

“I don’t fuck my car!” He said throwing himself back in his seat, “Then why’d you write a song about it?” You asked looking at him, “because, it’s a hot car,” he said defending himself, “it is a nice car,” Brian leant back and budded in, you looked at Brian with a death stare making him raise his hands and turn around, “what do you do with you car then, make out with it?” You asked mockingly.

“No, I make out in it though, and I fuck in it,” he said with a small smile on his face, “Gross,” you scoffed, “i didn’t need to know that,” you said shaking your head, “Yeah man, to much information,” John said with a disgusted face on, “I’ve sat in that car before!” Brian said, a small laugh escaping me and John after that.

“Sorry!” Roger laughed raising his hands, “you asked princess,” he said, again with that name. “I said don’t call me that!” You snapped at him, a small blush on your face, “Whatever,” he said rolling his head back.

And of course, the ten hour road trip turned into a longer one, because the van broke down and everyone had to stay in a motel for the night, and the only one around was crappy and old, and had three rooms available.

“Seriously John,” you scoffed at him, seeing as he already grabbed a key with Brian. You and him always had sleepover since you guys were little, and he begged you to come. “Sorry, I really have to work on this with Brian,” he said walking off. “Fred,” you called out to him.

“I know you like your beauty sleep, but please I’m begging you, don’t make me share a room with Roger,” you begged, “Sorry sweetheart, maybe you guys can talk it out,” he shrugged walking into his room.

You rolled your eyes turning around, “You have to be joking,” Roger said looking at you, “I wish I was,” you said opening the door to the room, Roger walking in behind you.

Only to see one bed, “Oh for fuck sake,” you groaned, “Fuckin’ hell,” Roger cursed, you sat on the end of the bed, shaking your head. “John owe’s me big time,” you said under your breath, there wasn’t even a pull out couch. Or chair. It was a double bed, a side tables and a small dresser. And next to was a small cramped bathroom.

“Someone definitely shot there brains out in there,” Roger said walking out of it, referring the stained bathtub. “I’ll just take the floor,” you said grabbing a pillow, “No, I will,” he said, was he being a gentlemen for once? “There’s probably more bed bugs in the bed then there are cockroaches on the floor,” He said setting himself up, you rolled your eyes at his meaning.

“It’s not even carpet Rog, don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed, “You were planning on sleeping on the floor,” he stated, “Yeah, but I wasn’t planning on sleeping,” you said in a ‘duh’ sort of tone, “Just, we’re both adults, sharing a bed won’t be the end of it,” you said trying to sound responsible.

“You just wanna share a bed, don’t ya princess?” He said placing a hand on his hip, a small smile appearing on his face.

Yes, “No,” you scoffed, “it’s just, I’m very empathetic, even for assholes for you,” you said checking the last corner of the bed for bed bugs, “Sure,” he said with a smile. “And I said stop calling me that!” You added onto your sentence.

“You not going to bed yet?” Roger asked getting comfortable, noticing you not getting into bed, “I kind of wanna practice a bit,” you said, “Practice?” He asked, “Guitar,” you said, only John knew you played.

“You play?” He asks, you nodded lightly and grabbed out the smaller portable guitar in your bag, not a full guitar, but not a ukulele either. “I’m uh, I’m working on a piece,” you said, “really?” He asks surprised, slightly sitting up.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Can I hear it?” He asked, you laughed a little and shook your head “God no, you already hate my voice as is,” you said raising an eyebrow with a small smile, placing the guitar in your hands.

“I don’t, it’s just, annoying sometimes,” he admits, “well so is yours,” you said tuning the guitar properly.

“Let me hear it,” he said a bit softer, making your heart swarm with butterflies at his tone, you look up at him, straight into his gorgeous eyes, that were pleading for you to sing it.

“I haven’t finished it yet,” you started, “I don’t mind, consider me a guide, I’ll be brutally honest,” he said with a smile sitting up, you did need a bit of criticism, “it sounds better with more background, but whatever,” you rolled your eyes and faced down at your guitar.

He softly clapped as you strummed a few cords, starting off the song.

“I would rather not go.. back to the old house,”

“I would rather not go, back to the old house,”

“There’s to many, bad memories,”

“To many memories there,”

“When you cycle by,”

“Here began all my dreams,”

“The saddest thing I’ve ever seen,”

“And you never knew, how much I really liked you, Cause I never even told you, and oh I meant to,”

You sang in a soft, sweet voice, that was slightly deep but not too deep, hitting every cord beautifully.

You looked up to Roger, who looked a little shocked, mouth slightly open, eyes glistening and cheeks a soft shade of red.

“Is it that bad?” You asked with anxiety in your voice, “God no, it’s- it’s beautiful actually,” he said lifting a hand up to scratch the back of his head, feeling awkward at complimenting you.

“Who’s it about?” He then asked, and god did you wanna drown at that question, when you first started, it was supposed to be about your childhood trauma, then it slowly turned into the memories of Roger.

The first time you ever met him, he was on a bike riding around with Brian, being a complete idiot.

You went a light shade of red and looked down, “no one, really,” you shook your head, putting the guitar away.

“Y/n,” he said softly, grabbing your hand, “Who’s it about?” He asked once again, looking you dead in the eye, it was impossible to lie to those eyes, impossible.

“You,” you said very quietly, looking him dead in the eyes, and total embarrassment washing over your face, but that quickly went away when you felt his lips on yours.

You felt his lips move with yours, his hand cupping your cheek, you heard the small guitar drop to the floor but you didn’t care.

You felt so unreal, as if you were being lifted from the ground. Or similar to it.

“I really like you too,” he said as he pulled away, looking into your eyes.

“you do?” You asked, shocked.

“I love you actually,” he corrected himself, “you y/n y/l/n, are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” he stated truthfully, making you a blushing mess.

“I was a douchebag I guess because I didn’t know how else to actually talk to you, stupid and childish I know, but that’s just.. me,” he said shaking his head a bit.

“I love you to Rog,” you said with a small smile, then connecting your lips back together, Freddie was right, you did talk it out, you did more than talk it out.

#Roger Taylor #queen band #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor x reader #fanfic #fluff #roger taylor queen #y/n #queen

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rushingheadlong · 2 years

Text

The Worst Best Friend in the World - A Roger x f!Reader fic

Summary: You and Roger have been calling each other the “worst best friend” for years now, but it’s only recently that it’s started to hit a little too close to home - because only the worst of people would fall in love with their best friend like you did.

Tags: ~8700 words, Roger x f!Reader, angst, h/c, friends-to-lovers, soft smut

Notes: Written for a request from a tumblr user who wishes to remain anonymous. Requests are technically closed so I’m not accepting anymore, but I loved this prompt and just couldn’t resist writing something for it!

Read on AO3 here!

1957

“I hate you Roger Taylor! You’re the worst best friend in the whole entire world!”

Years later, when you look back on that day, you won’t remember what Roger did that upset you so badly. You’ll remember running back home in tears but you won’t remember that you cried so hard that you got hiccups, or that you were nearly sick down the front of your mum’s skirt when she wrapped her arms around you and asked what was wrong. You won’t remember what you told her and you won’t remember crying yourself to sleep that night, hours after the fight actually happened.

What you do remember is seeing him waiting for you by the school gates the next morning. Even now, years after the fact, you remember how nervous he looked when he handed you a piece of paper, and you remember how small his voice sounded when he said, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean what I said. Will you still be my friend?”

You remember opening the piece of paper to see a crude drawing of two stick figures holding hands with your names inside a lopsided heart. At the top of the page, written in Roger’s childish script, are the words Best Friends Forever.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

15 years later…

Tonight’s venue is small, and by the time you finally arrive the place is already packed to the gills with people. You can’t see the makeshift stage setup on the far side of the room but you easily recognize the sound of Queen performing, and you’ve been to enough of their shows by now that you know they’re coming to the end of their set. Damnit. You wanted to get here earlier but your fucking boss held you back, and now it’s going to be a nightmare trying to get backstage to meet up with your friends.

So you don’t try to weasel your way behind the stage at all. You instead duck outside and around the back of the building towards where Queen’s old van is parked, figuring that they have to return to the vehicle at some point and you’ll just meet up with them then. Tonight must be your lucky night, though, because you find the rear door to the venue open and you’re able to slip back inside just in time to hear Freddie say goodnight to the crowd.

“Well look who finally decided to show up!” Roger calls out as the band makes their way down the back hallway. “Thought you decided to skip out on us tonight!”

“Nah, my fucking boss just decided to hold me late,” you explain as you follow him and the others into the dressing room.

“And you didn’t tell him to go fuck himself and leave anyway? Worst best friend ever,” Roger teases, and you laugh at the old inside joke.

The two of you have been slinging that ��accusation’ at each other ever since that fight when you were ten, but apart from once or twice in the middle of heated arguments it’s never been meant with any sort of seriousness. On the contrary there’s a great deal of fondness captured in those three words that doesn’t seem like it should fit with being called someone’s “worst best friend” but it’s because you both keep the joke running that you know your friendship with Roger is still going strong after all this time.

“Hey now that’s not fair. A real worst best friend wouldn’t have shown up at all,” you say, slinging an arm around Roger’s shoulders. He worked up a sweat while drumming and it’s a bit gross to be touching him right now, but it doesn’t really bother you.

When it comes to Roger there are a lot of things that don’t really bother you, even if they probably should.

Roger laughs. “No, I think that’s just called being a bad friend.” He playfully elbows you and adds, “C’mon, get off me so I can get changed.”

You nod and let go of him, even though that’s the last thing you want to do. No one asks you to leave the room, neither Roger nor the rest of Queen, and you’ve long since stopped raising the subject yourself. You’re Roger’s old mate from school - practically one of the guys - and so none of them seem to think that maybe they should want you to step outside while they drop trou.

That means that you’re free to lean against the doorframe and ogle the boys as they change. Or at least that's what you'd be doing if you had the stomach for ogling your friends, but you don't. It just doesn't feel right for you to be eyeing up Roger like that when he's made it clear - through actions, if not words - that he doesn't feel the same.

There is one advantage to your position by the door, though. You’re the first to hear the sound of giggles and hushed whispers floating down the corridor, and when you glance in that direction you can see the two girls clearly trying to work up the courage to come talk to the band.

“Head’s up,” you tell the boys. It’s just enough of a warning for Roger to zip up his trousers and throw on a shirt, before the girls are hovering nervously at your shoulder.

“Um, hi there!” one of the girls says. “We saw your show and just wanted to tell you that it was fantastic! You guys were really brilliant out there.”

“Thank you,” Freddie says. “It’s always lovely to hear what the fans think of our music.”

The girls seem to take that as permission to move further into the small room, pushing past you without so much as a ‘pardon me’. You roll your eyes behind their backs and try to send Roger a Can you believe this? look, but he doesn’t see it.

Because while the brunette takes a seat by Freddie really does seem eager to talk about Queen’s music, her blonde friend has made a beeline for Roger - and judging by the look in her eyes and her hand on his arm, she has other things on her mind than the show she just watched.

And, even worse, Roger seems to be perfectly happy to entertain her advances.

This is a side of Roger that you’re still trying to get used to. He tried dating a few girls when the two of you first got to uni, but the relationships never really worked out and eventually he gave up on dating altogether. Or at least that’s all that you can assume happened, given that you’ve long since stopped seeing the same girls more than once or twice.

If you’re being honest with yourself - which you try not to be, at least not where Roger is concerned - it makes you uncomfortable to watch him with other girls. You know that the attention he receives is unavoidable, especially as Queen keeps gaining a proper following, but why does he have to respond so eagerly every time a pretty girl flirts with him? It’s not that you’re a prude, and god nows you’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite if you started spouting off against of pre-marital sex, but it’s just… it’s just…

The girls waltz past you with another flurry of giggles, pulling you from your thoughts. You hope this means that you can get back to the plans you had already made with Roger, but those hopes are immediately dashed when you see the lovestruck look on his face as he watches the blonde leave.

Then he glances your way, and immediately winces at the expression on your face. So much for trying to hide your annoyance.

Roger gives you an apologetic grin and tries to explain himself. “Ah, Y/N, I wasn’t- I mean I know we had plans, but-”

“Oh, go on then,” you say, jerking your thumb over your shoulder towards the door behind you.

Roger perks up a bit. “You don’t mind?”

You do mind, but you’re not going to admit that to him now. “No, but you’re going to owe me one for this. You now that, right?”

“I’ll buy you dinner later this week to make it up to you,” Roger promises.

“Sounds perfect,” you say, though there’s a part of you that wishes that ‘dinner’ meant more than just a simple meal. Except Roger is grinning at you, that bright and beautiful grin that you love so much, and so it’s hard to really be disappointed with his offer. “But you’re still the worst best friend for leaving me like this!”

“I know,” Roger says. It’s an apology for leaving, and a thank-you for letting him, and because it’s Roger you don’t need anything more said than that.

Because you do know. You know that you’re only uncomfortable with his flirting and hookups because he’s never looked at you that way before.

And you know, beyond any doubt, that he never will.

XXXXX

When you were sixteen your mum had put her foot down and insisted that you go to at least one school dance that year. It wasn’t that you hated socializing with your peers or that you objected to getting a bit dolled-up (though you did object to the dress that your mum wanted to put you in); it’s just that school dances are always either boring or awkward, or more often than not a miserable combination of the two, and you had better things to do with your time than suffer through that.

You were in the middle of bemoaning that fact to Roger when he suggested, “Why don’t we just go together then?”

“Weren’t you listening to anything I was just saying?” you asked with a laugh. “Because I think us going to a dance together would definitely make things awkward!”

“I didn’t mean that we should go together-together,” Roger said. “Just as friends. That way when things get boring we can sneak away and find something better to do.”

"I'm pretty sure they don't let the students sneak out of the dance like that."

"And I'm pretty sure that as long as we're sneaky enough they'll never even notice!"

And in the end, they never did.

You and Roger put in enough of an appearance at the dance to make it seem like you were there. Just enough that, should your mums cross paths with one of the chaperones and get to chatting, no one would have anything to say to raise suspicions. But at the first opportunity the two of you snuck out the back door and disappeared into the Cornish night... which really meant that the two of you wandered down to the football pitch and sat on the damp grass, uncaring of the mess you were making of your nice clothes.

You and Roger spent the rest of the night just laughing and talking about whatever came into your heads: school, exams, your holiday plans and Roger’s band rehearsals… It was going to be a busy summer for the both of you and you were worried about how much time you’ll have to spend together, but Roger swiftly put those fears to rest.

“I’ll drop the band before I drift away from you,” he said firmly.

“No you won’t! You love the band!”

“I do, but I lo-” The rest of his sentence was cut off by Roger clearing his throat, but you knew him well enough to guess what he had been about to say.

At the time, you were happy that he didn’t say I love you more and instead rambled on about how your friendship was more important than any band would ever be. You were both sixteen, that age where you stop saying that you love your friends and start saying those words to the person you’re dating instead. Roger might have saved the conversation by steering it back towards safer topics but your burning hot cheeks and the flush on Roger’s face were a testament to the moment of awkwardness that almost was.

Now as you think back on that night, you wonder if your embarrassment wasn’t because the both of you were awkward teens - but rather because you were already a little in love with Roger. And not at all in a platonic way.

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment that you fell in love with him, or even the first time you consciously realized that you had these feelings at all. Maybe they’ve just always been there, another constant in your life just like Roger has always been. You wonder if that means that you’ll always love him then, and whether you’re prepared to always feel as shitty as you do now every time that you have to watch Roger take home a girl who isn’t you.

Sometimes you think back to that night you spent out by the football pitch instead of inside dancing and you imagine what it could have been like if Roger had actually said the words, I love you. Would you have had the courage to respond as if it wasn’t meant platonically? Would that have changed anything between you, or would it only have ruined the best friendship with the worst best friend you’ve ever known?

Sometimes you imagine how things could be if Roger says I love you now. Sometimes you fantasize that his confession turns things a bit steamy, but you know that’s all you’re ever going to have: Just your fantasies, and nothing more.

XXXXX

The next time you see Roger is at Queen’s rehearsal a few days later. He told you to stop by when they were done so he could buy you the dinner he promised, but for once you had nothing else on your calendar so you decided to swing by at the start of practice so you could say hello to the rest of the guys as well.

You must have arrived just after Roger, though, because the first thing you see is him kissing another girl just outside the band’s practice space. It’s a blonde again, but not the same one from the other night. She’s taller than the last girl, or at least wearing higher heels, and wearing an outfit that makes her look like she just walked off the pages of a Biba advert. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, anyone with eyes can see that, and your stomach twists with a white-hot jealousy as you watch her blow Roger a kiss goodbye before she finally leaves.

“Hey, Y/N!” Roger calls out. You quickly pretend that you weren’t glaring daggers into the back of that girl’s head and turn to look at him instead. “You’re here early. Didn’t have anything better to do?”

“Just didn’t want you skipping out early when you owe me a dinner,” you say. Roger laughs, and his good mood gives you the courage to ask, “So who was that then? New girlfriend?”

“New girl, at least,” Roger answers.

“Is she going to be sticking around?”

“Dunno.” Roger is still grinning but there’s a growing look of confusion on his face as well and he asks, “What’s with the twenty questions? You don’t usually care this much about who I hang out with.”

You shrug, trying to feign an air of nonchalance that you don’t entirely feel. “Just curious, that’s all. What, am I not allowed to take an interest in my friend’s life anymore?”

“Ass,” Roger says, laughing. He elbows you playfully and adds, “C’mon, let’s get inside before they send Brian out to see what’s taking so long.”

Roger seems to have already brushed off your questions but you still feel rattled as you follow him into Queen’s rehearsal space. He has a point, after all; you don’t usually interrogate him like that and it worries you that just seeing him with another girl can get under your skin like that.

You know you can get a bit jealous of the girls that he takes home but you can’t let Roger know that. If he finds out about your jealousy - if he found out how you really feel about him - you really would become the worst best friend in the world. Except, it wouldn’t be much of a joke at that point at all.

Luckily Roger doesn’t seem to suspect anything. If he was ever suspicious about your one-too-many questions earlier, it’s faded by the time rehearsal is over and the two of you head out. One quick stop for takeaway later and you two end up back at his flat, where you bicker good-naturedly about what to put on the telly while you eat and try to steal bites of the other’s food behind their back.

You aren’t in any rush tonight to return to your own flat. You love being able to spend time with Roger like this, just the two of you, just like the old days. You finish eating, and you’re perfectly happy to stay on the cramped sofa with Roger’s knee digging into yours and let the hours of the evening tick by. By the time you finally, begrudgingly, make a comment about needing to head home it’s late enough that you almost regret waiting this long to leave, if only because you hate walking home in the dark.

“You know you can always stay the night,” Roger tells you.

“I know,” you say, but you also know that you never will. Not anymore, not when you know that you’d just be lying awake on the couch wishing you were in bed with Roger instead. “But I’ll sleep better without springs poking into my back.”

“You can take my bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch,” Roger offers.

Your heart skips a beat but you manage to hide it with a laugh and say, “A mattress spring digging into my spine isn’t much better than a couch spring, Rog! Now, do you remember where I put my wallet?”

“I hid it so you wouldn’t be able to leave.”

“Worst best friend.” You smack his shoulder playfully as you walk past and add, “You better return it by the time I get back from the toilet, or I’m taking your wallet home with me instead!”

You’re still chuckling to yourself as you finish up your business. You can hear Roger moving around in the living room and you’re certain that he’s grabbing your wallet from wherever he stashed it. Still, there’s a part of you that thinks it would be a little funny if you walked out with Roger’s wallet in your pocket instead.

You move over to the sink to wash your hands - but then you see something on the counter that makes you stop short.

There’s a hair there, a long, bright red one that definitely does not match the hair of anyone you’ve seen Roger with recently. In fact you can’t remember ever seeing Roger go home with a redhead before. You always knew that there were probably more girls around than you had actually met but you weren’t prepared to have the evidence of that thrown in your face at the end of an otherwise perfect night like this.

Suddenly you can picture her perfectly in your mind’s eye, checking her hair quickly in the mirror before joining Roger in the bedroom or redoing her makeup the morning after the fact. There’s a dark smear on the countertop that could be eyeliner and you furiously rub it away with your finger until the white porcelain gleams again. You take a petty joy in removing any evidence that there’s other women in Roger’s life, even if you know that won’t change anything about your relationship with him.

XXXXX

If you’re being honest with yourself, which you’re still trying not to do, you bought the makeup because of Roger. You just couldn’t stop thinking about all the girls that he takes home and comparing yourself to them, and even though you can’t afford a new wardrobe to look more stylish or larger heels to make yourself look taller you can afford to duck into Biba to pick up a few new items of makeup to try out.

You don’t think you can pull off some of the bolder looks popularized by today’s models, but you’ve always had a deft hand with eyeliner and it’s easy for you to copy the crisp cat-eye look in the magazine pages. The blue eyeshadow isn’t your usual color but it does make your eyes pop, and with the addition of lipstick and liner you think you could almost be mistaken for Twiggy. At least, from a distance. And at a night.

Still you have a spring in your step as you head out to meet Queen ahead of that night’s show. You don’t know if this will be enough to get Roger to see you in a different light or not, but the appreciative looks you get from others as you make your way towards the dressing room are a welcome boost to your confidence nonetheless.

“Look at you, Y/N!” Freddie says as you walk into the room. “What’s the special occasion, then?”

“No special occasion,” you tell him. “Just felt like getting dressed up tonight, that’s all.”

“Well you look very nice,” John says.

You beam at him. “Thank you!” You lean against the wall and ask, as casually as you can, “I take it Roger’s running late tonight?”

“Him and Brian both,” John says, with a slight roll of his eyes. “Hopefully they’ll be here soon…”

Freddie cocks his head and says, “Oh, I think they will be.”

Now that Freddie has pointed it out you can hear the faint, but steadily growing louder, sounds of Brian and Roger arguing drifting down the hall towards the dressing room. Judging by the looks on Freddie’s and John’s faces this is an old, recurring argument of theirs, but that doesn’t do much to tone down the passion in their voices as they bicker about some facet of one of their songs. Brian walks into the room first, gesticulating so wildly that he almost hits John with his guitar case, and Roger is right on his heels, talking over him and completely oblivious to his surroundings.

“Alright, alright, that’s quite enough for one night!” Freddie says. They don’t pay him any mind, though, and so he claps his hands and says, louder this time, “Hey! Cut it out!”

They both jump slightly. Brian mumbles an apology and starts getting his guitar ready, while Roger says, “Sorry, Freddie, but you know that the song needs- Holy shit, Y/N!”

Roger does a visible double-take at the sight of you. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open in surprise, and you have to bite the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from laughing.

“Something wrong?” you ask, voice dripping with faux-innocence.

Roger shakes his head, a gesture of someone trying to pull their thoughts back together rather than an answer to your question. “No, but what’s on your face?”

The question stings more than you want to let on, and your stomach sinks. That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get from him.

“It’s makeup,” you snap and, before you can think better of it, you add, “Thought you would’ve been used to it from those girls you keep taking home.”

“I’m only used to girls who look good with their makeup on, not one who try to imitate a clown,” Roger says.

He’s grinning, like he just cracked a hilarious joke, but you don’t find it funny at all. It just hurts, more than anything you can remember Roger ever saying to you before. He looks at you, waiting for you to retort with a similar sort of jab, but as tears start to prick at the corner of your eyes all you want is to get as far away from him and this situation as possible.

“You know sometimes Roger you really are the worst fucking friend in the world,” you say, as you gather your coat and storm past him out of the room.

“Jesus christ, Rog! Do you ever think before you say something?” you hear John snap at him behind you, but you don’t stop or turn around.

You hurry out of the venue, needing to put as much distance between yourself and Roger as you can so he doesn’t see you crying. You don’t know what you were thinking, trying to get this sort of validation from him. That’s not the sort of friendship you two will ever have, so why did you even put yourself in this position in the first place? You wipe furiously at your eyes, not caring that the gesture will smear makeup all over your face. Why should you care about that anyway, when your original look apparently made you look like a clown to the only person whose opinion you cared about?

When you get home you wash your face and throw out the new makeup you bought, because you know you’ll never be able to stomach wearing it again. You don’t even know if you’ll be able to stomach seeing Roger again; the thought of losing him from your life still terrifies you, but it’s clear that your feelings for him are getting out of control. You can’t even begin to think of how you’re going to explain away this reaction when you see him again… and as the night drags on, you start to wonder if you even should see Roger again, or if you should take this as a sign that your friendship with him has finally reached an end.

XXXXX

You’re woken abruptly by the sound of loud, insistent knocking echoing through your flat. You blink against the bright lights, and it takes you a moment to realize that you must have dozed off on the couch. You don’t know what time it is, only that it’s still dark outside, and you’re sleepy enough that your spat with Roger is the last thing on your mind as you shuffle over to the door to see who’s bothering you at this late hour.

The answer - and you really should have seen this coming - is that it’s Roger standing there on your front steps. He’s sweating and breathing heavily and still in his stage clothes, and despite the hurt you still feel your stomach swoops at the sight of him.

“Y/N, hey, can I… Can I come in?” he asks hesitantly. “Can we talk?”

You grip the door a little harder. “It’s late. What are you even doing here?”

“Trying to apologize to you,” Roger says. “I wanted to come by earlier but there was the show, and Freddie said I should let you cool down first…” He sighs and gives you a remorseful half-smile. “Probably should’ve waited until the morning, I’ll accept that, but I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “Apology accepted. You can leave now.”

You try to shut the door, but Roger quickly stops you. “Hey, c’mon now, Y/N. I’m really, really sorry. You looked great with the makeup on, honest.”

“Yeah, like a great clown.”

Roger winces at the reminder of what he said to you. “No, that was just me being an ass. I thought we were just teasing each other like we always do but I crossed a line there and I am so sorry for hurting you. You looked beautiful tonight. I promise you did.”

Somehow the compliment hurts worse than the earlier insult did. “Don’t say that,” you tell him.

“What? Compliment you?” Roger asks. “It’s true, though. You did look beautiful with the makeup on.”

“Stop it,” you say. “You don’t need to lie to make me feel better.”

“It’s not a lie,” Roger says. “You did look great with the makeup. But you always look gorgeous without it too.” You shake your head and Roger huffs, and asks, “Why don’t you believe me? Just because of what I said before?”

“No, because you don’t say things like that to me!” you snap. “I’m your friend, I’m one of the guys, and we don’t compliment each other like that! So if you’re going to start doing that now then you can fuck off and not come back, because I can’t-”

You cut yourself off before you can either say something that you’ll really regret, or start crying like a baby in front of Roger. You try to shut the door again but he sticks his foot in the way, and he doesn’t even flinch when you slam the door uselessly against the side of his shoe anyway.

“Y/N, what the hell’s going on?” he asks. “You’re not acting like yourself. Did something happen?”

He looks and sounds worried and that kills you inside. You hate being the cause of his concern, and you hate knowing that the two of you are just going to keep ending up here no matter what you do - maybe not in this same exact situation, but you know you’re only going to keep being hurt the longer you try to bottle up your feelings.

“What happened is that I fell in love with the worst best friend I could ever have,” you tell him tiredly. “And I know he doesn’t feel the same so I hate hearing him call me beautiful when I know he only means it platonically.” You sigh, and lean heavily against the door, and add, “So can you just leave me alone now? Please?”

Roger stares at you, mouth agape in open surprise, but with his foot still stuck in the door so you can’t even close it in his face.

“Please,” you repeat, a little quieter.

That seems to shake Roger out of his stupor. His gaze becomes a little more searching, like he’s trying to read your expression to make sense of everything you just admitted.

“Do you mean me?” he finally asks. You don’t respond, which is probably answer enough for him, because he huffs in frustration and says, “C’mon, Y/N, let me in. I think we need to talk.”

You don’t want to. You want Roger to go away and let you lick your wounds in private, so that the next time you see each other maybe you can pretend that none of this happened and you two can go back to the way things used to be. But you know nothing can ever be the same again, and trying to push back this conversation will only make things worse. So, despite the fact that your heart is in your stomach, you reluctantly nod and open the door to let Roger inside.

Normally you like having Roger in your flat. You like spending time with him and when they’re at yours you can at least guarantee that none of his bandmates will be unexpectedly interrupting you. Tonight, though, you can feel yourself tensing up as Roger walks into your living room and takes a seat on your couch.

He glances back at you, and offers you a crooked smile. “You going to stand there all night, or do you want to sit down too?”

You shake your head. Your place is small and the only place left to sit is next to Roger, and you don’t think you can stand to be that close to him while having this conversation. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

Roger’s face falls, and you immediately feel guilty.

“However you think I’m going to react, I promise it’s not like that,” Roger tells you. “I’m not mad at you or anything.”

“But you should be!” There are tears pricking at your eyes again but you try to blink them back as you continue, saying, “God, Roger, I’m so sorry. I know we joke about it all the time but this really does make me a terrible friend, and I know that and I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen and I never wanted it to change things between us-”

“But what if I want to change things between us?” Roger interrupts.

You flinch at the question and wrap your arms around yourself, as if the gesture can help you physically hold yourself together, but that’s not enough to stop a tear from slipping down your cheek. If that’s what Roger really wants then you don’t know that you’ll be able to change his mind, and your heart is already absolutely shattered at the prospect of losing him.

“No, no, Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that,” Roger says quickly. He stands up and takes a small, abortive step towards you before he realizes that that might make the situation worse and he slowly sinks back down on the couch.

“What I meant to say,” Roger says, soft and gentle, “is that I want things to change because I’m also in love with you.”

Time seems to freeze around you. Your breath hitches in your throat and your watery eyes widen in surprise and you wait for Roger to say something else, to say anything else, to give any explanation at all - but he doesn’t, and somehow you find your voice enough to croak out, “What?”

“I’m in love you with,” Roger repeats. “Have been, for a long time. That’s why I stopped dating, because how I felt about them couldn’t hold a candle to my feelings for you.”

“But… those girls you take home…”

Roger ducks his head in embarrassment. “I was trying to forget about you,” he admits. He glances back up at you and adds, sheepishly, “Didn’t really work too well, though. Even when I was with them I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Why?”

He blinks at you. “Why… what?”

“Why would you think of me when you already had the prettiest girl in any room on your arm?” you ask bitterly. Despite what Roger’s saying now, you still remember all too well how it felt to compare yourself to those girls and always finding yourself coming up short.

“But I didn’t have the prettiest girl in the room. That’s why I had to settle for them instead.” Roger studies your face and, slowly, he asks, “Y/N, did you really think that I didn’t notice how beautiful you are?”

You can feel your own face starting to flush now and you point out, rather hotly, “Well you never said anything! I was right there and you never once seemed to notice me like that!”

“Guess I’m a better actor than I thought,” Roger tries to joke.

You’re far too upset for it to land properly. You’ve been making yourself miserable for ages now by comparing yourself for those other girls, and for no reason at all! You’re embarrassed that Roger seems to have picked up on your insecurities like that, and angry that all of this could have been avoided if you had been less of a coward and just said something-

“I’m so, so sorry, Y/N,” Roger says. The apology, thankfully, interrupts your rapidly-spiraling thoughts before they can get much worse. “I was so worried about making you uncomfortable that I guess I went too far in the opposite direction, and I’m so sorry for that. I never meant for you to feel unnoticed. Believe me, I’ve always seen you and you’ve always been the best distraction in my life.”

Your face must be bright red by now with how hot it feels, and all you can think to say is, “You could have said something, you know!”

Roger laughs softly. “Yeah, alright. That’s fair enough. Guess the least I can do then is finally say something now.”

He stands up again and, though your heart is racing in your chest, you somehow manage to pull yourself together enough to meet his eyes.

“Y/N, I love you,” he says. “You’re gorgeous and funny and the worst best friend anyone could ever ask for, and I have wanted to kiss you for years.” He takes a step forward, this time with confidence, and asks, “Will you let me start making up for lost time now?”

XXXXX

Time seems to slow down at Roger holds out one hand towards you, waiting for you to make the next move. Waiting for you to confirm that, yes, you really do want to take this next step together with him.

It’s a question that he hardly needs to ask. You’re moving before you even find your voice again, uncurling from the ball of tension you had wound yourself into and reaching out to lace your fingers together with Roger’s, before finally answering, “Yes.”

You take a step towards him, or maybe Roger uses your clasped hands to pull you in. You don’t really know and it don’t really matters, because the end outcome is still the same: You, pressed close against Roger, one of his hands on your hip, as he leans down to kiss you.

It isn’t exactly the kiss of your dreams. Your heart is racing so quickly that you’re nearly trembling, and maybe that’s what makes the angle of the kiss just a bit awkward and off. Roger laughs nervously and tries to adjust but somehow that just makes things worse, and he finally ends up pulling away altogether after only the barest brush of his mouth near yours.

Roger’s face is red and he nearly trips over himself trying to apologize, but you don’t need him to do that. “Rog, it’s okay,” you assure him. “Guess we’re both just nervous, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Roger sighs and offers you a crooked smile, and asks, “Wanna give it another go?”

You nod, and this time you lean up to meet Roger halfway in a kiss that’s much more coordinated than before.

It still isn’t exactly perfect - but it is pretty damn close.

And when Roger pulls back, several long moments later, you can see a hunger in his eyes that makes it clear that this is only the beginning of everything he wants to do with you.

It’s that look that wipes away the last of your insecurities, because it’s a look that makes it clear that Roger really does want you. And suddenly it doesn’t matter what other girls he’s been with before or how you measure up against them. All that matters is that he’s with you now, and he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to let you go.

“I think I could spend the rest of the night kissing you, y’know,” Roger says. His voice is low, almost a purr, and the sound of it is nearly enough to make you weak in the knees.

“Then why don’t you?” you ask.

Roger’s hand tightens slightly on your hip. “Because there’s no reason to rush things. I want to do things properly here. I want to take you on dates and buy you flowers and-”

“And,” you cut in, “we’ve known each other for most of our lives. If anything we’ve been taking things slow up until now, so if you want to kiss me again…”

“I want to do more than just kiss you, though,” Roger admits, as if he actually thinks that’s going to make you pull the breaks now.

You let go of his hand, but only so you can shift even closer to Roger and drape your arms over his shoulders. “Then why don’t you?” you repeat, this time in a low murmur.

Roger inhales sharply. “Y/N… Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you say, without any hesitation. “And if you leave me waiting now, you really will be the worst-”

Roger interrupts the rest of your sentence with another kiss, a bit more forceful this time, a little more heated. He pushes up the hem of your shirt a bit, his fingers just teasing along the skin of your stomach, but that’s enough to get you to whimper against his mouth. You’re painfully aware of the fact that you’re just in your pajamas, and definitely not wearing a bra anymore. If Roger moves his hand just a little bit higher…

“Bedroom?” Roger asks, his hand still resting just above the waistband of your sleep-shorts.

You nod, and despite the fact that this is your flat you let Roger lead the way into the bedroom. He obviously knows where it is since he’s been here before. He’s even slept in your bed before, when the two of you were two pissed for it to matter, but tonight you’re both clear-headed and sleep is the last thing on your minds.

Roger kisses you again, and this time when his hands toy with the hem of your shirt there’s a purpose there that makes you shiver.

“Can I?” he asks. You nod again, and lift your arms so Roger can carefully remove your top.

You have to fight the urge to wrap your arms around yourself to hide your breasts, but Roger doesn’t give you any time to feel self-conscious.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says. If it wasn’t already clear from his voice that he means it, you can see how his eyes darken in appreciation and when he presses close for another kiss you can feel his growing hardness against your hip. “Lie down on the bed for me?” he murmurs against your lips.

You pluck at the top that he’s still wearing and say, “Only if you take this off.”

You’ve seen Roger shirtless countless times before over the years but this time is different, because this time you don’t have to hide your staring. You watch with open appreciation as he joins you on the bed and settles between your spread legs, and all you can think to say is, “You’re gorgeous.”

Roger laughs. “Stealing my lines now, Y/N?” he teases. He slides one hand up your body, palming your breast and eliciting a quiet gasp from you which he quickly swallows down with another kiss, because apparently he wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to spend the rest of the night doing that.

He trails kisses down your neck, across your collarbones and along the tops of your breasts. He swipes a thumb across your nipple as he kisses down your sternum, and you can feel yourself start to throb with anticipation as he moves down the planes of your stomach until his lips are just above your waistband. And it’s there that he lingers for a moment, pressing kisses into your navel but making no moves to keep things heading south.

You reach down and card a hand through Roger’s hair, pushing it back away from his face and making him glance back up at you with a questioning look.

“You don’t have to eat me out if you don’t want to,” you tell him. You know from experience that that can be a sticking point for some guys, and you would never push Roger to do something he didn’t want to do.

But Roger is quick to reassure you, “No, no I definitely want to. I was trying to think of a romantic way of asking, but since you said it first…” He plucks at your waistband and grins up at you. “Wanna take these off so I can eat your pussy and blow your mind?”

His phrasing of the question makes you laugh. You like that Roger can keep things light-hearted and humorous in bed. It helps keep your nerves and insecurities at bay as you lift your hips to allow Roger to remove your shorts and panties, leaving you fully bared beneath him.

“Beautiful,” Roger murmurs, appreciative, as he presses a soft kiss just below your navel. Then another even lower than that, and you spread your legs a bit wider in anticipation of him finally moving down between them. He does keep moving down your body but not where you want him to go. He kisses down one of your inner thighs, then up the other one, seemingly unaware of how wet you’re becoming.

“Rog- oh,” your complaint is cut-off before you can even say anything, as Roger suddenly licks a broad stroke over your core, ending with a small flick of his tongue against your clit.

You moan and grab at the blankets beneath you as Roger begins to eat you out in earnest. He’s so fucking good at this and the reality is so much better than your fantasies ever were. Roger holds your hips down and laps at your core like he can’t get enough of the taste of you. His clever tongue finds your clit and he alternates between teasing licks and light suckling, the combination driving you absolutely crazy with need.

You’re flushed and panting and absolutely incoherent with desperation. You want to come so badly… but you don’t want to come like this.

Somehow you manage to let go of the blankets so you can gently push Roger away - something that’s far easier said than done, when Roger’s mouth feels as good as it does.

He does stop but he gives you a confused and worried look and asks, "Is something wrong?"

"No! No, god no," you say quickly, and a look of relief immediately crosses Roger’s face. “But I don’t wanna come until you fuck me.”

Roger groans and unconsciously grinds his hips down against the mattress. “Fuck, Y/N, are you sure? I’m, ah, I’m probably not going to last long this time-”

“I don’t care,” you reassure him. You card a hand through his hair, and shiver as he nuzzles against your inner thigh. “I’m already close. I just wanna feel you first."

"Well I'll never say no to that." Roger kisses the inside of your leg, before sitting up and asking, "Condoms?"

"In the drawer."

Roger nods and grabs one, along with the small bottle of lube that you had stashed in there. You're not sure that it'll be needed given how absolutely soaked you already are, but you can appreciate the care he shows in the gesture. Roger is clearly a thoughtful lover but almost to a fault; he somehow manages to shimmy out of his trousers and underwear before you can even offer to help undress him, and you have to pluck the condom out of his hand to stop him from putting that on himself too.

“Let me do something here,” you say, teasingly. You tear open the small packet, and any reply that Roger would have given is lost in another groan as you slowly roll the condom down over his cock.

You can’t resist giving Roger a few strokes, relishing the weight and feel of him in your hand. “How do you want me?” you ask him.

He stills your hand with a gentle touch and says, “Lie down on your back. I wanna see your face.”

Your heart is racing in nervous anticipation as you settle back down on the bed. Roger grins reassuringly as he braces himself above you. “Breathe, Y/N,” he says. “I’ve got you.”

And then he’s pushing inside you, slowly and carefully, and breathing is the last thing on your mind because all you can think about is how perfectly Roger fills you up. You cry out and rub your cheek against the pillow beneath you, trying so hard not to come as Roger finally comes to a stop, buried to the hilt inside you. He’s breathing heavily and trembling faintly, and you know that neither of you are going to last long once he starts moving again.

“Ready?” he asks after another minute.

You nod and barely manage to breathe out a needy, “Yes,” before Roger carefully pulls out, and thrusts back in. All you can do is moan and cling to him as he starts fucking you, slowly at first but quickly picking up pace. He’s not rough but there is a desperation to his movements, like he’s barely able to hold himself back this much. He groans and mouths at your neck, and you dig your fingers into his back so tightly that you just know they’re going to bruise, but right now neither of you care about that.

You only let go of Roger to try to touch your clit so you can finally, finally come, but Roger bats your hand away and replaces it with his own.

“This what you wanted?” he asks, panting, as his clever fingers rub over the head of your clit. “You gonna come for me, babydoll?”

“Roger,” you moan. You clench around his hard length and he groans above you, hips stuttering slightly, but he doesn’t stop his thrusting or the motion of his hand on your clit. “I’m gonna- fuck, Rog, I’m-”

You cry out as your orgasm washes over you. You clench down around Roger, setting him off only a few moments later as well. He grinds deep inside you as he comes and he ducks his head to muffle his groan in the crook of your neck. You’re breathing heavily and you shudder as Roger’s every movement sends sparks of overstimulated-pleasure racing down your spine. He finally pulls out when your sporadic clenching becomes too much for him to stand any longer, and once he disposes of the condom he collapses bonelessly next to you on the bed.

There’s a moment of near-panic where you wonder what the fuck you’re supposed to do now. You just slept with you best friend; there’s no coming back from that. Everything is going to change between you and Roger now - the one thing you were always trying to avoid - and there’s a part of you that is terrified about what happens next.

But then Roger laughs breathlessly and rolls over to face you, slinging one hand casually over your waist as he snuggles close to you, like it doesn’t even occur to him to be anything but affectionate with you. You breathe a small sigh of relief, and the smile you give him in return is bright and genuine.

“Would it be forward of me to say that I already want to do that again?” Roger asks. He’s smiling lazily at you, looking like the cat that got the cream, and it makes you want to kiss him breathless all over again.

“I don’t care if it’s forward or not, because I was thinking the same thing,” you say. You just came but with Roger pressed hot and naked against you all you can think about is getting your turn to worship him with your mouth and hands.

You lean up to kiss him and Roger meets you with the same passion and intensity that you’re feeling yourself. He drops his hand to cup your ass and encourages you to grind against him, which you do eagerly.

“Christ, Y/N, you drive me crazy,” Roger murmurs, the words nearly lost against your mouth. “What sort of friends are we, if we can’t keep our hands off each other for five minutes?”

“Oh the worst best friends, for sure,” you say, trying to suppress your giggle. Roger’s answering snort of laughter disrupts your angle and throws you off the rhythm of your grinding. You huff and add, “Of course, you’d be the best boyfriend ever if you moved your leg back to where it was…”

“Boyfriend?” Roger echoes, immediately perking up. He doesn’t move his leg back but before you can complain about that he rolls the two of you over, so you’re on your back and he’s on top of you once again.

“Yeah, boyfriend,” you say. “At least, I thought that’s where things were going.”

“They were,” Roger confirms, grinning down at you widely. “That wasn’t a complaint. I just liked hearing you call me your boyfriend.”

“Well you’re about to become the worst boyfriend again if you don’t do something-”

The rest of your complaint is lost to a moan as Roger moves his hand between your bodies, and starts you off on round two.

#long post //#my fic #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor x reader #text #roger

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michelle-is-writing · 29 days

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Sick, Ben Hardy

Word Count: 1.2k~

Saturday nights are always date nights for me and Ben. No matter what, we always go out and do something fun together. We'll go to dinner, watch a movie, see a game, anything that sounds like a good time. We always make an effort, and nothing ever stops us from spending time together.

However, as I lay in my bed with nonstop nausea filling my throat and stomach, I feel the need to cancel for tonight. During the seven months that we've been dating, neither of us have ever canceled a Friday night, and that's always something I love about us. Once again, we always make time for each other, so when I think about calling Ben and saying I can't go tonight, I feel even worse.

Reluctantly pressing the green button on Ben's contact, I hold my phone up to my ear and listen to the ringing tone as I wait for him to pick up. As more seconds pass, I find myself trying to hug my blankets as close to me as I can while my body begins to shiver. This stomach pain is starting to cause me to feel cold as well, and it sucks.

"Hello, darling," I hear Ben's voice pick up after the second ring, making me smile. I always love hearing his voice. It carries this tone of protection in it that gives off a feeling of happiness at the same time. "Are you ready for our date?"

At his question, I close my eyes and swallow down the guilt that rises to my throat as my smile lowers into a frown. He sounds so happy - excited, almost. Do I really have to take that away from him? All because of something that could probably be treated with medicine?

As soon as the thought of maybe suffering through the pain and going on a date, another stomach cramp pushes into me, making me almost hunch over in my bed to get through the pain. "Actually, Ben," I start, my free arm wrapping around my stomach as the stinging sensation passes. "I was calling to tell you that I can't come," I explain, my ears almost catching the sound of his heart breaking through the phone speaker. "I think I caught food poisoning from my friend's food at dinner we went to the other night."

"I ate it, and I seem fine," He tells me, his words making me shake my head with an amused smile.

"That's because you have an iron stomach, Ben," I joke, hearing him chuckle on the other end. "And, besides, if you can eat your own cooking, then you can eat practically anything."

"Oi!" Ben dramatically exclaims as if my words hit him with a punch. I laugh at his silliness. "Such harsh and hurtful words from the woman I love!" He further chides as I clench my already hurting stomach from laughing. He soon joins in on the laughing before speaking once more. "But that's alright love. I understand you're not feeling well. I love you! And I'll be over in ten minutes."

Just as quick as he said his last words, he hangs up, leaving me to stare across the room with wide eyes as my phone remains resting in my hand, Ben's picture flashing once before the screen goes dark. Did he really just pull a fast one on me? Just like that?

While thinking about Ben, yet another wave of nausea rolls over me, causing me to turn onto my side with my knees close to my chest, a pained groan escaping my lips at the same time. What if this isn't food poisoning, and it's something contagious, and I accidentally give it to Ben? It's not that I don't want him coming over (I'm glad that he is), but the last thing I want to do is make him sick as well.

For what feels like an eternity, I lay on my sides, switching between the two when another cramp comes along. It isn't long before I hear keys being inserted into my front door, twisting and turning before the piece of wood opens and closes a few short seconds later. Footsteps sound throughout my tiny apartment until my bedroom door gently opens, a head full of blond hair and shining blue eyes staring back at me as I smile from my current predicament on the bed.

"There she is," Ben says with a sweet smile. Wearing a plain grey t-shirt and black sweats, he takes one step into my room before happily sighing. "And just as beautiful as ever."

Blushing, I roll my eyes and flop onto my other side to dramatically turn my back to him, only receiving a laugh back before I feel his warm body settle behind my cold one. As soon as he touches me, it's as if all of my nausea and cramping dissipate, the warmth from his body acting as a heating pad for my achey body.

Ben wraps his arms around me and pulls me close to his body as he kisses my temple, his lips soft and warm like fresh pastries. At his sweet affection, I smile even more and raise my hands to rest on top of his, only for him to interlock our fingers together. Even when I'm sick and not able to do the things we usually do, he's still the best boyfriend I could ever ask for.

"Would you like me to make you some soup?" Ben asks, leaning down to nuzzle his face in my neck. Underneath the covers, his legs intertwine with mine, bringing me just enough warmth to stop shivering so bad.

"No, just lay here with me, please," I tell him, snuggling my body further in his hold as a soft sigh escapes my lips. There's nothing better than lying in the arms of the person you love - especially if they're a natural heater.

"Oh, and like I said earlier," I begin, remembering our earlier conversation. "Your cooking is something special," I remind Ben with a smirk, listening as he snickers behind me. Okay, maybe there's nothing better lying in the arms of your boyfriend and teasing him for his helpless qualities.

"I can put on a video or something, go off of that," Ben suggests, leaning his head over mine to cuddle closer to the front of my neck. "Or, I could be safe and just order something," he offers, making me smile.

"That would be nice," I tell Ben, nodding my head. Just as he goes to get up to grab his phone presumably, I tug him back down and snuggle even further into him. "In five minutes, of course," I clarify, hearing him snicker behind me again.

With a simple "okay," Ben gets himself comfortable once more before resuming holding me close. I guess no matter what, Saturday nights will always be our night and not even a stupid stomach bug can stop that.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy imagines #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy x fem reader #ben jones #roger taylor #roger taylor imagines #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor queen #queen band imagines #queen imagines #queen imagine #queen x reader

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illfoandillfie · 4 months

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Heyy, i know this is so cheesy and such a trope but can i request 'stuck in a lift' in maybe like a fancy hotel where queen are hosting an afterparty, reader is somehow connected to the band and obviously fancies rog despite thinking he's a bit obnoxious, is heading up to bed, and Roger is going to get something from his room, when bad, they are stuck in the enclosed space for quite some time leading too... 😆

Blurb Advent 2023: Day 21

Okay i've had a vague notion of writing a stuck in a lift fic for like years because someone had requested one when i was doing blurbs another time but i didn't really know what to do with it. So thank you for giving me a reason to think about stuck lifts again! Your ideas were perfect and exactly the jumping off point I needed to actually write it!

Warnings: Roger the flirt, it ends before the real smut because otherwise it would have been too long, so apologies for that, but references to p in v sex and oral sex and handjobs/fingering,

If someone had told you that you’d be attending Queen’s end of tour party, you’d never have believed it. Of course it wasn’t really so mad to suggest you’d get your name on the list. Your dad worked as a roadie, specifically on Queen’s latest tour, so you had an in. The problem was he could be a little protective of you, even though you were a grown woman. Especially around hot young musicians who liked to flirt with anything in a skirt AKA Roger Taylor. As it was when he’d brought you backstage to meet the band he’d watched Roger closely. You’d gotten a bit of a tour of the stage and all the work that went on behind the scenes and Roger had even shown you what the interior of the tour bus looked like. It had made your brain whirl with ideas of what might happen there but those thoughts were dampened by your dad standing to the side glaring daggers at Roger whenever he so much as breathed in your direction. It was a shame since Roger was easily the cutest of the band and the one you found easiest to talk to. He could be a little bit obnoxious sometimes but he was usually sweet and funny. If you were being honest, you were a little pissed your dad had probably scared him off. You wouldn’t have minded something happening if the chance arose, but that wasn’t likely to if he’d been warned off. All the same, once your dad had invited you, you were determined to have fun. Even if you didn’t get to make out with the drummer.

You’d gotten there a little early so you could check in, dump your bags and get changed before heading down to the rapidly filling party. The glitz of it all was almost overwhelming. The band had coopted their hotel’s event spaces entirely, people milling between the three halls and spilling into the main foyer. You were suddenly very thankful your dad had been able to get you a room for the night otherwise you might have been tempted to hookup with someone just to make the night a little easier.

The party ended up being a lot of fun. You ran into a few people you knew – roadies you’d met through your dad, girls who hung around the band – some of them groupies, some not. You had a few drinks, danced for a bit, talked to whoever you bumped into. You even managed to run into all of the boys during the course of the night. Freddie, life of the party as always, was surrounded by a group of people you didn’t know but he pulled you over all the same just to check that you were having a good time. The other three were almost as equally sought after so you barely got to say more than a few words to each before they were whisked off. Still, it was a good night as you bounced around from room to room, taking drinks from the roving waiters, turning down lines from the party animals. But, by one in the morning you’d had your fill. The party was in full swing though the guests had dwindled a little. But you felt as if you’d drunk enough and danced enough and talked to enough people. Making your way across the foyer you bid a few people goodnight and grabbed the first lift heading upstairs. Once inside you breathed a sigh of relief that it was miraculously empty. But that didn’t last long. The doors were beginning to shut when you heard someone call out for you to hold the door. For half a second you contemplated pretending you hadn’t heard but you manners won out and you were glad they had. Roger Taylor was jogging towards you.

He looked a little worse for wear but bright eyed and bushy tailed nonetheless. “Thanks,” he puffed, a little out of breath, “These things take ages for the next one to come,” “No problem. Good party?” “Yeah really good, might be the best we’ve had. You leaving already?” You laughed, “Well not all of us have tour buses we can sleep on while we’re driven around. I have to get myself home in the morning.” He hummed, “You might have more brains than the rest of us then. Sensible girl.” “What are you doing then?” “Oh, getting a pack of smokes. Must have left them in my other jacket and no one wanted to bum me one. Something about me being rich enough to afford my own.” You giggled at Roger’s less than subtle brag. Coming from him it didn’t sound quite as arseholeish as it might have from someone else. Roger was an easy conversationalist and you were happily chatting about what he’d be doing now the tour was over when the elevator made a strange grinding noise. “Well that makes tot- fuck that was a weird nosie.” You said, glancing up at the roof though there was nothing noteworthy there.” Roger seemed as if he were about to say something, hopefully reassuring, when the whole lift jolted and everything went dark.” “What the fuck?” You asked the black space where Roger had been a second before. “Don’t worry,” his voice said from the darkness, “probably just a problem with the electrics in the building. It’s an old hotel and the party’s lighting is probably fucking with things.” “Yeah, you’re probably right,” you said, feeling a little spooked all the same. “They’ll have a backup generator, probably just takes a minute to switch over though.” You counted the seconds in your head as both of you waited to see if he was right and then let out a sigh of relief when moments later the lights flickered back on, though a little dimmer than before. The lift didn’t move but you weren’t too worried. The mechanism probably forgot what floor it was heading to with the power reset and just needed the button pressed again. Roger must have had the same train of thought because he leaned over and hit his floor’s number again. “Get floor 10 for me will you?” “Fuck,” “Yeah good one,” you laughed, “we stuck are we?” Roger turned, for once seeming a little fazed, “Uhh, I think we might be.” “Please tell me you’re joking,” You stepped around him so you could reach the buttons yourself and began hammering the tenth floor button. “I wouldn’t joke about this. But it’s okay, there's an emergency help button. Someone will come for us soon.” You felt less reassured when he pressed it an absolutely nothing happened, “Is it meant to do...nothing?” “I don’t actually know. I was expecting more but maybe it just sets off an alarm somewhere?” He looked over to you, “You’re not claustrophobic are you?” You shook your head. “Okay, good. We might be in here for a little while.” Roger shrugged, back to his usual unflappable self.

“No. No, we can’t be stuck in here.” You moved towards the door and banged a fist against it. Roger watched as he slid down to sit on the floor in the corner. You banged a few more times until Roger finally told you to stop. “People will come when they come. We’ve done all we can. Just sit.” “Jesus Christ. I can’t believe I’m going to die in a dodgy lift with Roger Taylor.” “We’re not going to die, don’t be dramatic. And I’m a little offended thank you very much. There are worse people you could be stuck here with. At least I’m easy on the eyes.” You rolled your eyes before sitting down against the back wall beside Roger. Roger laughed at your reaction, “You’re not bad yourself, by the way. So, y’know, there are ways we could kill some time...” his hand stroked against your calf and you jolted like he’d given you a static shock. “Are you really hitting on me? Now? While we’re stuck in a broken lift?” “Well why not? Just us, a bit of mood lighting, and who knows how long it’ll take them to find us...” his hand rose a little higher. “Aren’t you scared my dad’ll kick your arse?” “Oh terrified. He's much stronger than me. But, well, that’s the beauty of being trapped in here alone. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, or make him hurt me. You laughed again, feeling calmer. “I’m being serious, in case I wasn’t clear. I’ve not hit on you properly out of respect, and maybe fear of your father, but I do think you’re fit. And I think fucking would be a fun way to kill some time in here.” You weren’t really sure what to say so settled for just staring instead. Roger took that as encouragement, “I don’t have any condoms on me but I promise I’ve not got anything. I’m also, not to sound too up myself, a fucking good lay. And I suspect you’ve thought about shagging me before in which case I’d be more than happy to show you my cock for real. It won’t be the most comfortable fuck ever but it’ll be fun and take out mind off our current predicament and we can always move it to my room once we’re out of here. You were still gobsmacked, “I don’t know what to say.” “If it’s the condom thing putting you off I’m happy just to do mouth or hand stuff. Or if you don’t want to do anything that’s fine too, we can find something to talk about instead. But who knows how long we’ll be waiting.” “I’m....fuck it, okay.” Roger broke out into a grin, “I knew you were into me. You definitely wanna?” “Nothing fucking else to do is there,” you laughed, scooting a little closer to Roger, not quite sure how he wanted to go about it.

Roger shifted forward too, angling himself to be in a better position so he could cup your cheek and lean in for a kiss. “Hey,” there was a bang against the door that made you jump apart before your lips had even touched, “You okay in there?” Roger sighed and let his hand drop before he answered, “Yeah, we’re okay.” “Just sit tight, we’ll have you out a jiffy.” “Terrible timing,” you murmured and Roger laughed derisively. There was a lot of talk and banging from the other side and Roger’s gaze flicked in its direction, back to you, to the door again. He shrugged when he next looked at you, “Fuck it, we’ve got time.” His hand was on your cheek again and he was pulling you close, stealing your breath as his lips landed on yours.

The kiss continued until a particularly loud bang reminded you that people would be bursting in imminently. But you didn’t want it to end at all. You wanted to keep kissing Roger, for as long as you could, more if he was still up for it. “Y’know,” you said softly, glancing at the door to make sure no one was about to burst in, “Being trapped in a broken lift if a good excuse for an early night. Maybe we could continue this in your room?” Roger raised his eyebrow at you but then grinned again, “I like the way you think.” You had just enough time to smile conspiratorially before a loud scraping sound made you scramble to your feet and you saw the doors being forced open.

#my writing #my blurbs #blurb advent 2023 #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #i could maybe be convinced to do a part 2 at some point in the new year

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