#roger meddows taylor x reader

[here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can]

excuse me?????? when did this happen??????

#my parents (real) #brian may #queen band #joan jett and the blackhearts #joan jett #joan jett x reader #roger taylor #queen fanart #queen #freddie mercury #john deacon #john richard deacon #brian harold may #roger meddows taylor #the runaways

[rogermyreligion]

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

[rogertaylorshbb]

"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

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

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

[queenmylovely]

Hey hope you're well 😊 i think the holiday advent idea is lovely! Id like to request something that just popped into my head if you would like to write it, no worries if not 😊 So I was thinking Queen are doing an album release party which also happens to be on new years eve and you work for a music magazine and have to interview the band members, you're nervous because its Queen and obviously you're a huge fan, and have a crush on rog 😁 and you bump into him before the interview and he has his flirt on but you're trying to stay professional because you know you have to interview him later, and then after the interview (which incldues a few suggestive comments and a bit of teasing) you bump into each other again on the dancefloor just as the clock strikes 12! 😁 sorry if its a bit cheesy but i think you could put your own cool spin on it😁 💕

bonus holiday advent post! since this was nye themed, I figured dec 30th was the perfect day to post it. Anyway, I really liked this and had fun with it so I hope you like it as well! (no warnings, 1.9k)

☆☆☆

Walking into a giant ballroom filled with lights, music, and people, you tried to take it all in and calm yourself with a deep breath. There were quite a few people you recognized and many you didn’t, but none of them would recognize you. This was your first big assignment for your magazine, after your editor had finally seen your worth when you filled in for a sick coworker at a Fleetwood Mac concert a month ago. Now, you were at a release party for Queen’s new album, News of the World, which they had decided to host on New Year’s Eve.

It had been one thing to go to a Fleetwood Mac concert and do a review, but going to a release party and actually interviewing the band was a whole nother level, and you were trying not to freak out. Not only your dignity, but your career, depended on you being able to hold yourself together professionally before, during, and after the interview. All of this was going to be harder as well considering you had a massive crush on the drummer, Roger Taylor. You had yet to see any of the members of the band on your initial survey of the room, a fact that you were glad for, and hoped that you could keep a relative distance until the time of the interview.

As per the directions of your editor, you had gone out and bought a nice outfit for the occasion with the company credit card. You had tucked your press pass into your clutch as soon as you were through the doors in a further effort to fit in, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter for the same reason.

Skirting around the edges of the room until you came to a group of high tables without chairs, you stood at one, content to people watch and get a good feel for the energy of the party so that you would be able to convey it well through your writing. Most people’s clothes ranged from cocktail party to black tie, though a couple were wearing something akin to circus performer costumes. This would have been confusing, but you had read and heard lots of far stranger things about parties hosted by rockstars, so you just accepted it.

You had finished your glass of champagne a few minutes ago but had decided not to get another so you could stay alert for the interview when you saw someone walking over to you out of the corner of your eye. Turning to greet them with a smile, your stomach dropped when you realized who it was: Roger Taylor.

“Hi,” you said, hoping you sounded normal while you fell to pieces on the inside.

“Hi,” he said with an easy smile. He held up one of the two champagne flutes in his hands, “Looked like you needed a top up.”

You bit your lip and hesitated for a second, but figured you just wouldn’t drink it all and accepted, clinking your glass with his and taking a sip.

“So, I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, looking you up and down in a way that made your cheeks feel hot. “What’s your name?”

You told him just your first name, in case he knew who was interviewing him later. Even though you were completely flustered, you were going to use this opportunity to see what he was like not during an interview.

“I’m Roger,” he replied.

“I know,” you told him and he smirked, but since it was playful you laughed.

“So do you always stand off to the side alone at parties?” he asked as if he were just curious, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, “I like observing.”

“Hmm, I’m more of a partaker, but I’ll give it a try,” Roger said, coming around to the side of the table you were on and standing right next to you, the front of his left shoulder just inches behind your right one. You could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him but took another deep breath in to center yourself.

“So what exactly are you observing?” Roger leaned in to ask, his breath tickling the hair at the nape of your neck.

“Actually,” you said, turning to him quickly so he had to tilt his head back to avoid knocking your heads together. You suppressed a laugh, “You could probably help me out. I was wondering who those people are.”

Roger reluctantly broke eye contact with you to follow where your hand was gesturing, making a sound of understanding when he recognized who they were, “oh yeah, a couple years ago Fred went to some circus afterparty or something and ever since he’s invited whatever circus performers are in town to our parties because ‘we need them to offset all the boring executives.’”

He did a bit of an impression of Freddie Mercury that made you laugh, which he seemed to like.

“You know, I haven’t seen any of your bandmates in the crowd yet,” you said, hoping more conversation would distract you from how close he was and how interested he was making it clear he was.

“Well let’s see, last I saw Deaky he was up by the speakers; the man loves to dance. And Brian was over by the bar when I left him. Freddie could honestly be anywhere, but actually he’s wearing almost exactly the same color blue as you,” Roger told you, lightly touching the fabric of your dress, his palm just barely resting on your waist.

He watched your reaction, waiting to see what you would do next, whether you would welcome the contact or brush him off. You looked at his hand, then up at him, feeling his fingertips tense ever so slightly when he saw the look in your eyes. But you weren’t quite sure what to do; on one hand Roger Taylor’s hand was on your waist, on the other, you were supposed to be interviewing him very soon and any sort of fraternization wouldn’t be very professional.  

Before you could decide, someone walked towards you and you looked over to see who it was, Roger withdrawing his hand at the same time.

It was the man who you had set up the interview with, Jim something? You weren’t sure that he had seen Roger’s hand, but you really hoped he hadn’t.

“It’s time,” he said with a small smile, gesturing a hand towards a pair of couches you could see on the other end of the short wall of the room.

“Can’t the interview wait Miami, I’m in the middle of a conversation,” Roger asked, a bit of whine making its way into his voice.

“I actually was talking to her, but yes, you’ll have to come along as well,” Miami replied shortly, turning and walking away, not waiting for you two to follow.

Roger turned to you, his eyebrows practically to his hairline, “You’re the reporter?”

You started walking and Roger kept up pace with you, “Yes.”

He laughed wryly, “Oh you’re good, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who approached me, actually,” you reminded him with the raise of a brow.

“Well-- I--” Roger spluttered, trying to find his way out but failing before you had reached the rest of the band.

You smiled brightly and introduced yourself to the other three, sitting opposite of them on the other couch. They exchanged glances between you and Roger, especially when he elected to sit next to you rather than squish in with the three of them, but didn’t say anything.

From there, the interview actually went really well. Roger didn’t seem to harbor any resentment that you didn’t tell him you were going to interview him. If anything, he was more open with his flirting, making little quips and innuendos that led to a lot of ducking your head. A couple times the others intervened with a “Sorry about him, darling” from Freddie, a couple of pointed throat clearings from Brian, and a somewhat subtle kick in the shin from John. Truthfully, you wouldn’t have minded what he was saying except that you were trying to act professional in front of his bandmates and their manager, as well as get your story.

But overall, the four of you got along great, falling into a good conversation rather than an awkward interview. They appreciated that you asked informed questions about their music, which you were happy about because you had done a lot of research in preparation. Another favorite topic was fashion and you and Freddie spent a good five minutes raving about the boutique you had bought the dress from. It was kinda sad to be done with the interview, but Miami intervened, telling the band they had to get back to meet with some executives.

While they went and did that, you went to the hallway, doing a quick happy dance at how well it went before finding the phone and calling your editor.

---

Brian and Freddie were taking the brunt of the interest from the executives as they had written the most songs, so Deaky turned to Roger and nodded towards the hallway where you were visible, talking on the phone.

“Bet she’s telling her editor all about how Roger the womanizer wouldn’t stop hitting on her during the interview,” he said sardonically.

Roger’s smile from seeing your excited gestures fell, “What?”

“I’ll just say that Fred and Bri will be disappointed if the interview isn’t focused on our music,” Deaky said, a warning in his tone.

Roger swallowed and nodded in understanding.

---

By the time your editor had let you off the phone, it was only about ten minutes to midnight. You made your way through the excited crowd to the packed bar, hoping to grab a drink in time for the New Year. It was taking a while but you were still smiling to yourself about the interview when you felt a tap on the shoulder.

It was Roger, once again holding two flutes of champagne.

“Need a drink?” he asked, his smile almost a bit shy.

You grinned back and accepted, cheersing and taking a drink with him.  

“So--”

“So--”

“Oh go ahead,” Roger told you.

“I was just going to say sorry that I didn’t tell you I was a reporter, if you want anything to be off the record, just tell me what and I won’t print it,” you told him quickly. “What were you gonna say?”

Roger huffed a laugh, “Just that I’m sorry if I distracted from the interview. I should’ve let you do your job.”

“I think a lie of omission and unprofessionalism are about equal offences. No hard feelings?” you asked, looking up at him.

He nodded, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You grasped it and couldn’t help but notice how warm he still was, and how the calluses on his fingers from drumming felt against your hands. Then Roger pulled you forward by your hand and you stumbled, laughing, until you had to let go to steady yourself with a hand on his chest.

You looked up at him, searching his gaze. His hand came back to your waist tentatively and you nodded, almost imperceptible, but he saw and a small smile graced his lips. Then you heard the crowd start the countdown around you and you smiled wide.

They got to one and yelled Happy New Year!, the sound barely reaching your ears as Roger’s lips pressed to yours, tasting sweet like champagne.

★★★

tagging bc it’s long: @drowseoftaylor @caborhapch @queenlover05 @johndeaconshands @stardust-galaxies @theblossomknows   

#and its in time for those of you ahead one day! #also I don't actually like champagne #I always hoped I would but yuck fermentation #queen #roger taylor #blurb #fluff #roger meddows taylor #queen x reader #roger taylor x reader #roger meddows taylor x reader #queenmylovely #holiday advent #scorpiogemini #request

[har-rison-s]

slipping through his fingers

“all it took” part two

A/N: I wasn't going to make this, but since I love you guys a lot and respect your wishes I decided to continue. Also, ABBA is one of my favourite bands and I've been listening to them again and wanted to connect their song to a sappy story with Rog. So here it is.

summary: Years after your and Roger's child is born, he finally realises his wrongs and somehow gains trust from you to see your daughter from time to time. Roger regrets not being a proper father and hopes he can still make everything right and make up for lost time, watching his daughter Hope during the limited time he has with her.

warnings: bit angsty towards the end, nothing else really :)

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« Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning, Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile...

Hope gives Roger the look of naiveness and the small wave she sends his way only heightens it. Roger wonders how long she'll have that look in her eyes and on her face. How the people around will change her, change the way she thinks and talks, change the look of innocence to the look of bearing and tiredness and everything else that comes with adolescence and growing up. He wonders if Y/N has told her everything about him, and if she hasn't, then when will she? Or won't she ever do it?

If she's told her, are the looks and smiles of innocence false? Does Hope know that her father's first reaction was anger and the thought of immediate abortion? What does she think of her father? Does she still see him as a good man? 

« I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness, And I have to sit down for a while...

Roger sighs and grunts as he raises from the kitchen table and takes the glass of whiskey from the surface. He walks over to his living room window from where he can see his front porch. He watches Hope climbing into her mom's car and the two of them smiling happily. Roger sees it through only a slit in the curtains, he doesn't want to be too obvious. Y/N and Hope share a lively conversation, it seems, and she's asked her daughter what she's done with her father together over the weekend. But even from here, Roger can see a glint of sadness in her eyes. Still. And he knows why.

« The feeling that I'm losing her forever, And without really entering her world...

Roger has always felt like he doesn't know her. When he first remembered about Y/N and their child that she bore, and thought about calling you up and meeting the two of you, he thought he'd know your child instantly. But that was the total opposite.

She's a quiet kid, very much like Y/N must have been as a child. Totally not like Roger. She didn't whine, she didn't cry when she didn't get what she wanted, she didn't yell or misbehave. Y/N was worried that it was very bad for a child who's five years old, but she realised it's her family's trait, on her mum's side, to be quiet and obeying and behaving as a kid. So she stopped worrying. 

Roger was jealous, he must admit, and still is. Hope got more of Y/N than she got of him, and he also knows that he's faulty of that. It was Roger's own fault. 

And he still doesn't know Hope. Roger doesn't know her as a person or as his own kid, even though she is, biologically. He can't see through her, he can't figure her out. And when he tries to ask questions, she replies plainly and shortly. Which might be because of her quietness, but also because Y/N might have told her about Roger.

She's the second introvert Roger has come across, but she's harder to get around with and please and figure out than John, his band's bassist. He never expected an introvert being his own daughter. Roger barely knows how to live with an introvert and converse on daily basis, let alone how to raise one! He's not used to someone being unresponsive or less responsive, and he doesn't know what to do in many situations with Hope. What to say next, or does he even say anything... Makes him stressed.

« I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter, That funny little girl,

When Hope laughs, it's the most beautiful and uplifting thing Roger hears and tries every day and every hour to get it to happen again. But it's so rare. And he guesses that's what makes it even more beautiful. 

She laughs at silly and unusual things, like the small fluffy Easter chickens that they sell at the stores with flowers and other Easter decorations. The flying drumstick her dad tosses away while drumming. Her own funny faces that she makes in the mirror. Something funny in the book she's reading. A painting out of flour on the kitchen table amidst pancake or gingerbread making. A dog running after a cat on the street. Cupcakes with silly decorations in pastrie shops.

Her laughter is music to Roger's ears, and he gets so much joy from the sound. It lifts him up, makes his day. He just wishes Hope would laugh and smile more, and more because of him.

« Slipping through my fingers all the time, I try to capture every minute, The feeling in it...

Even though at the start Y/N prohibited Roger to take pictures or tape videos of their daughter, he did it anyway. He has a whole album of her pictures, not entirely filled, but soon to be there. Anytime there's a good day and the two of them are together, Roger takes as many pictures of Hope as she lets him. He likes to photograph her when she doesn't see him doing it. Otherwise, she'd immediately want to pose (unnecessarily) or photograph her dad. And he's got enough pictures of himself in the public and private to go around. But the ones that she manages to take of him, Roger gives to Hope. And she's got quite the collection.

There's her dad trying to take the camera away with his hands covering the most of the lens. There's one of him writing something down, then the next one is of him looking in the lens with a blank look. A complete natural one, that is, one of Hope's favourites. There are so many emotions visible in his eyes, she hopes to uncover them all someday. There's also one with Rog behind his drum kit, one with him holding a guitar and drinking tea. 

Y/N could put up with looking at the pictures of Roger in front of Hope, but when she slept or was at school, Y/N cried heavily. She cried of how horrible he was, how heartless and denying. How he's trying to be a father just now, years and years after the break-up. She cries about his relationship with Hope and how they're sort of bonding. She cries about the time wasted and spent alone. She cries because she misses him and because... She still loves Roger. She does, even after all these years and despite all the anger she feels for him.

« Do I really see what's in her mind? Each time I think I'm close to knowing, She keeps on growing...

Will he ever know Hope? Will he know her as a person? How will he find her out? How can he sympathise with her, win her love and heart? Roger's not a good person, he thinks it's the truth, and so he doubts he'll ever win her complete trust and heart. And that breaks his heart.

He's been changing girlfriends from time to time since he broke up with Y/N more than ten years ago. None of them have been serious, and you'd think he truly loved Y/N and that's why he couldn't stay with another woman for longer than a few months. But that's not it. 

When he remembered that he actually has a child, he couldn't shake it. To Roger's mind, there's no bond stronger than between people who have had a kid together. And it's an unbreakable bond. 

He loves Y/N as the mother of his child. Sometimes he thinks there's something more, but... Roger knows she won't let him in again. Even if both of them wanted it. Nothing could happen, cause they both have too many doubts about the relationship and each other. It wouldn't be good for Hope if she saw them in some sort of tension or arguing. She already has quite the bad atmosphere what with her parents not being together. 

Y/N had many ground rules for Roger seeing Hope, but the main one is that he can't see Y/N. She only met him that one time when Hope was five years old, and it already was too much for Y/N. Sometimes she comes to pick her up from Roger's house, but she never comes into the house. She's still scared.

« Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table Barely awake, I let precious time go by...

Rarely, when Y/N has a work event or a night-out with her friends, she drives him to Roger's house. And sometimes that happens on school nights. Roger has no problem with that, of course, the more time he can get with Hope he enjoys and is always up for it. 

But Hope does have to get up at an ungodly hour to get to school on time. Roger never wakes up that early, except on tours, but he hates it either way. He's in his flannel pyjama shirt and pants, hair messed up and glasses in front of his eyes, making breakfast for them both. Roger is trying not to fall asleep while standing, and Hope, on the contrary, is awake as ever. She's in her sleeping gown and and pants, and fuzzy socks. Her hair is put up in a bun she saw her mother make with her own hair—hence why Hope does it. And she's doing some last minute homework. How can she even think this early?

The clock shows it's 7:16am. For Roger, this is night time. On one hand, he can't wait to get back to sleep. On the other, he wants to spend the whole day with Hope, no matter how early he has to get up. But the good thing is, she's here now and he even gets to drive her to school! Roger smiles at that, and finally turns to Hope with finished breakfast on two plates. Eggs with ham and some toast.

She looks up at him and notices the plates, immediately closing her notebook and pushing it to the corner of the table's surface. The fourteen-year-old girl scrambles to get them kitchen ware to eat with and places it beside the plates her father has put down. There's also tea and coffee, and juice for them to drink on. 

Hope loves this, but she won't say it out loud to Roger. She loves school mornings with her dad. They're better than weekend mornings or holiday mornings. These school mornings are gentle, quiet, full of love, and limited as well. But that's what makes them so loved by Hope.

« Then when she's gone, there's that odd melancholy feeling And a sense of guilt I can't deny...

Roger wishes that he could spend every school and weekend morning with Hope. And it's the greatest regret of his life that he can't have that. And he knows it's his fault that he can't have every morning with his daughter.

He often thinks back to the day Y/N told him she was pregnant and wants to punch his younger self in the face for thinking and saying and doing what he did. It was ever so wrong, the most wrong thing he's done in his life. 

Roger looks at Hope again as she's drawing something, laying on his living room floor. Her hair is in a ponytail and her face is ruled by deep concentration. What is she drawing? Some thought-up character? Fairies and wizards? No. He doesn't know and can't guess that she's drawing her father. He'd never know.

Roger watches her drawing and she looks so divine, so exceptional, so peaceful. How could he ever want to abort this beautiful child? He didn't know, of course, what she'd be like, he never wanted to then. Roger was young and reckless and dumb, he only cared for himself and his reputation. What a stupid boy I was...

His arrogance and mistakes have robbed him of the biggest treasure in his life. Y/N and Hope. Roger will never forgive himself. He could've had the best life, the best and most beautiful family. There would be two people missing him at home everyday, two people he'd miss everyday apart from his own parents, of course. Two girls he'd give the world to, he'd bring them everywhere and show them everything beautiful that is to enjoy in this life. He could have had and done everything. But he chose the wrong path in his younger and egoistical years and that lead him to the misery he so badly wants to escape now.

Roger sighs and leans back into the couch. His sigh would've turned into a desperate sob or cry if it weren't for his self-control and care and love for Hope. He doesn't want her seeing him cry or drown in self-pity, which is what he does day-to-day anyway. But if he promised himself and Y/N that he'd be a great father, he will stay true to his word. 

« What happened to the wonderful adventures? The places I had planned for us to go...

Y/N had so many fantasies of being parents with Roger when she found out she was pregnant. Roger kissing her big stomach while the child still hasn't been born, buying baby clothes and furniture together. Roger barely making it in time to the baby's birth, the joy on his face as he holds the little baby. Perhaps he'd cry or cheer loudly, announce to the whole hospital or even scream the news out of the window to everyone who walks by. She'd be too tired to quiet him down, so she'd just smile and hold onto their baby tighter.

Walking around the park with the child in a cute carriage, the sun shining down. Waking up early to feed the baby, the wakings at night and Y/N and Roger taking turns in putting the kid back to sleep. Breakfast on a terrace in a house in summer when the sun's still pleasant in the early morning. Baths together as a trio, bubbles, laughter and wet hair. Introducing the baby to the band, bringing her over to their houses and gardens and watching as the tough badass glam-rock men turn into complete mushy bears upon seeing the little girl. Her fingers tangling in Brian's hair, repeatedly playing one string of John's guitar and dancing with Freddie or listening to him sing.

Roger taking Y/N and the toddler girl on vacations to France or Italy or Spain, residing in country-side houses and watching the sunsets in meadows or on beaches. When the kid's older, Roger would eventually allow the two girls to come with him on tour, but only a few dates. He wouldn't want his two girls to be exposed to the public eye too much, in a perfect world - the public wouldn't even know about them and let the family live their life privately. 

Sometimes Y/N cries at night because her fantasies never came true. And they never will. And this is her first and probably only child, which she raised completely on her own and who she loves more than anything in the world. She wants to give her daughter everything there is to give. Y/N moves mountains for her daughter, always has and will be ready to do it forever. And she knews it from the very start, from the day she found out she'd have a child. And she'll be forever angry at Roger for not wanting the same, not seeing the child as she did and still does. She was blinded by Hope.

Hope. An interesting name for a child. Roger asked Y/N why she named her 'Hope'. Y/N answered him, but not truthfully. She didn't want Roger to know the sacred truth of their daughter's name origin. 

She named her so because that was all she had when she was alone with her daughter, when she was without Roger at child birth, at her first birthday, and all birthdays until the 6th. All Y/N had was hope. Hope that Roger would call and apologise for what a prick he was, how he wasn't thinking straight and was ever so sorry. Hope that Roger would turn up at her door when she had been fired or robbed, at the most horrible and unexpected time. Like a blessing, an angel in her eyes. 

Y/N hoped that Roger would come around a week or two after. When that time passed, she hoped for a month. And then, and then, and then, she didn't want to admit she still had hope, but she did. Y/N hoped dearly that some completely ordinary day she'd meet Roger at a shop or on the street with Hope in the carriage. And they'd have a lovely conversation, and he'd tell her he loves her and wants to be a father and that he was a shitty person. She hoped they'd be together again, be parents, maybe even get married! Y/N hoped for every possible scenario, but never expected what actually happened. Roger sending her a letter after six years of no communication, three months after Hope's 5th birthday, and asking Y/N to meet up because he's realised his wrongs and wants to be a proper father. 

She had to read the letter multiple times then, over and over. Then Y/N sat down at the kitchen table, stared at the letter, at the envelope, at the table, at her hands and the wall. Her mind was blank. Then came the anger, then came the sadness, then the gladness and then tears from every emotion, and that went on and on in circles. Until she decided that she'd take Hope to meet her father and let whatever happens happen. 

« Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture And save it from the funny tricks of time Slipping through my fingers...

Then came one evening when Hope asked her mother if she could spend longer time with her dad. It took Y/N by surprise and at first, she just stared at Hope until some logical question came up in her mind to ask. She had so many questions and also arguments as to why she shouldn't. But she can't neglect her child's wishes, especially the ones with her father, that could lead to later trauma.

“W-Why?” Y/N asked and Hope continued to look at her mother with begging eyes. 

“Because, mummy,” she starts to say. She still says 'mummy', this fourteen-year-old, “I know daddy wants to spend more time with me, and I miss him everyday. I want to see him everyday, I want to live with him more.” Live with him? Outrageous, was the first thing Y/N thought. She couldn't allow that, at least she thinks so. “I love daddy, and he loves me. He tells me that everyday.”

“He does?” Y/N whispers. Hope nods.

“And he loves you. And I know you love him, don't you? You just don't want to tell that to each other.” She explains. Y/N smiles quickly, but it fades away soon enough. Her hand reaches out to stroke Hope's cheek. 

“You're so smart, angel.” She says to her daughter and Hope manages a shy smile. 

“Mum, please,” the teenager begs, “I want to see daddy more. I want to meet his friends, I wanna watch them make music.”

Y/N nods and has to take a moment to herself to think it over. She looks out the window, grasping her chin between her fingers in deep thought. This is complicated. Her own feelings and love might be compromised, her life might be turned upside down or ruined. She can't predict the future, but Y/N damn wishes she could. Everything would be easier.

“Alright, my love,” Y/N starts to say and looks back at Hope, who's got big eyes with optimism in them, “when we meet daddy tomorrow, we'll talk about it, alright?”

Hope nods and smiles wide. She immediately jumps on her mother, her arms reaching around so she can hug her. Y/N smiles and strokes Hope's hair, a few tears in her eyes. She's sad and happy and anxious, all at one moment. Maybe it is time for a change. In everything. She knows what it means if everything would stay the same. And she knows exactly what it means to live with Roger. Even if it's just Hope who does, but Y/N knows Roger would never allow her living completely alone, away from them two. Here comes a big decision, and a dilemma.

“Of course you can stay longer, bub,” Roger says, smiling wide. He's so happy, and glad, that Hope wants to stay at his house more. He strokes her cheek, watching her with his big, blue and almost teary eyes. Hope gives him a smile and then looks at her mother, and so does Roger, “if mummy likes that, of course.” He says once seeing the cold and unsure look in Y/N's eyes.

She gives them both a shy smile and watches her own fiddling fingers under the table cloth. “Hope, why don't you go look outside in the cafe's garden? I saw they had bunnies.” Y/N says to her daughter who frowns.

“But I want to be here when you decide.” She argues and Y/N sighs.

“There are things, my love, that are private between me and your father.” Y/N says. Your father. Roger looks at her when she calls him that. A cold, distant name for him. It makes him a bit sad, and hopeless, as well. “Go outside and pet the bunnies. We'll come for you when everything's settled.”

Hope nods sadly and leaves the table. “A bit cold to her, that is,” Roger says, though his words are fearful. He looks at Y/N in a scared way. She only smiles and shakes her head.

“I don't want her to know all our issues.” She admits to Roger, looking him in the eyes, and he immediately raises his eyebrows.

“So you... haven't, um, told her?” He squints his eyebrows, purely curious for the answer. 

“Have I told her that your first response was abortion and that you weren't supportive at all?” Y/N asks, raising her eyebrows and suddenly rising from her seat. She slumps back down and huffs. “No, I have not.” She says and erases all the fright in Roger. He almost breathes in his relief, but stops himself. “She's still a kid. And as much as I hate her not knowing anything, I...” Y/N sighs and looks down at her hands, “I don't want her to hate you.” She admits, looking back at Roger. 

A smile twitches his lips. He's very touched by that. 

“I just know how I felt when my mother finally told me about my father.” She says.

“Don't tell me he did the same thing I did.” Roger says, in slight fear again. Y/N laughs.

“No, he cheated. I told you that... years ago.” She tells him and Roger nods. You dumbass, he thinks to himself. 

“Sorry.” Roger says. “I'm sorry for everything. Really, I am, Y/N. I cannot live with myself with what I did. But I love Hope so much, she means the world to me. You both do.” At the last three words, Roger reaches over the table to take Y/N's hands in his. He's hopeful, but the action is a bit outrageous. She looks at him, taken aback at the gesture, but waiting for him to say more. “And I'm sorry for not being with you earlier, from the very start. I—It's the greatest mistake of my life. My biggest regret that I didn't give you the partner and Hope the father she needed. I am so sorry.” 

Y/n sighs deeply and looks away, but doesn't retract her hand. “You don't—you don't have to apologise.” She tells him. But Roger's not convinced. “You were a different person. Well, that, and you had d-different, um... priorities.” Y/N falters, her whole posture does. She's never talked to someone about this, about that night so many years ago.

“I was stupid, young and stupid, I really—”

“Roger, please stop.” Y/N stops him, whispering, and the look in her eyes catches Roger. There are tears brimming and begging in her beautiful orbs. He immediately stops talking and closes his mouth, understanding that it hurts for her. “Hope will be back soon and we have to settle the whole... thing.” She continues whispering, but the last word she says in a proper voice.

“Right, right. Okay,” Roger responds and leans back into his chair, his hands slipping away from Y/N's, “um, well, what do I say? Uh...”

“Whatever you want. Tell me everything you think.” Y/N encourages, but Roger has already decided what he'll say.

“Move in with me.” He tells her suddenly. “Both of you.” 

Y/N's breath catches in her throat, and her eyes widen. She blinks a few times, realising one of the scenarios she predicted has come true and she is not prepared her answer to it, or answers. 

She stays silent for a moment that seems much too long for Roger to wait on. She seems decided, but conflicted. Perhaps she already knows what to say, but doesn't know if she should? Decided, but not sure how to say it? Unsure to say it? He watches her as she thinks, and decides in his head that everything's over and she doesn't want to move in, she doesn't want Hope to spend more time with him—

“It will take time,” Y/N finally says, looking at Roger, “but we can.” She voices her decision to Roger.

He can't help but smile wide and simply look at Y/N for a while. Her decision was the one Roger was hoping for. Probably the only one he could survive. Roger didn't even expect her to accept his moving-in suggestion, he thought she'd laugh in his face and leave. Or start crying.

But the reason she'd be crying would be of happiness. They're all going to be living in one place, as a family. Family. That's what she's always wanted. She wouldn't ask for nothing more except for it to have happened sooner. But she's grateful it's happened at all.

Tags: @woaholland @obsessedwithrogertaylor​ @mustbeaweasleyginger​ @langdonzvoid

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#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x reader imagine #roger taylor imagine #all it took #roger taylor imagines #roger taylor fic #roger taylor fics #queen imagine #queen imagines #queen fic #queen fics #roger x reader #roger meddows taylor #roger meddows taylor x reader

[psychedeliagroove]

I’m having a Bob Dylan phase

#bob dylan #led zeppelin #jimmy page #queen #robert plant #queen fanfiction #roger meddows taylor #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor x reader #queen band #brian may #freddie mercury #john deacon #roger taylor fluff #classic rock #roger taylor #john bonham #john deacon x reader #john paul jones #rock #1970s

[rogertaylorsfalsettos]

I was reading a Roger Taylor X reader smut story during class and my teacher caught me and he smirked-

#im screwed #this is weird #im nervous #bohemian rhapsody #queen band #roger taylor #roger meddows taylor #roger taylor x fem reader #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x reader #brian may #john deacon #queen #rogerina #deaky #fanart

[mylovelyrog]

Freddie and Roger in the 70s💖

#roger taylor #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor x female reader #roger taylor x reader smut #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger meddows taylor #freddie mercury #i want to break free #brian may #froger #friendship #best of 70s 80s 90s #60s 70s 80s 90s #70s vibes #70svintage #john deacon #best smile #queen band #beautiful #queen live aid #queen fanfiction #queen fandom #queen fanart #queen live #queen

[johnricharddeacy]

The only thing that’s keeping me alive right now, is this GIF:

#rock #80s #classic rock icons #brian may #rock bands #roger taylor #roger meddows taylor #roger taylor imagine #john richard deacon #queen fanart #roger taylor is the man i need #roger taylor x you #roger taylor x reader #brian may x you #freddie mercury #ben hardy #gwilym lee #joe mazzello #rami malek #bohrap

[anne-white-star]

Roger : hold up for a minut i need to grab my papers and put my glasses on for this....... lissen here you little shit

#roger taylor #roger meddows taylor #caption #memes #roger taylor x reader #eh #enjoy these shitty captions as Long as they last guys #queen #queen caption #incorect queen quotes

[rogermyreligion]

Smut prompt 54 and 40 and maybe Roger being obsessed with eating you out even though you can’t take it much longer??

40. "I can never seem to get enough of you."

54. "Im not necessarily hungry for food right now."

“jesus Rog” you giggled trying to push him off you, he was kissing your neck fiercely, practically sinking his lips into the junction between your jaw and your collarbone, non-stop.

After making out Roger was always very clingy, like he was drinking the last of you, he liked to keep glued to you a little longer, touching you, sliding his hands over your skin as if he hadn't done it 5 minutes ago.

But now he was more vicious than ever, as if an erotic spirit had invaded his body.

“You are so beautiful” he said while pressing his fingers hard against your waist, grabbing you hard, hungrily.

You were amused, “Whats gotten into you” you ended that with a soft moan, he was sucking your neck, groaning.

"I can never seem to get enough of you." he smirked at you, eyes falling to your lips. He crashed his lips against yours, in a messy kiss.

Your hands went to hold his face, deepening the kiss, both tongues were fighting, both trying to take some control, breaths getting mixed, Roger didn't seem to give up because one of his hands went to the back of your neck, pulling your hair, his mouth traveled from your breasts, playing with your nipples in the middle, until it reach your belly, he positioned himself between your legs, his torso resting on the bed while his fingers tickled your hips.

You couldn’t help but squirm at his touch, giggling, when your gaze went to him, you found Roger looking at you straight in the eye, like he was waiting for an approval but it was evident what he wanted, and he wanted it badly.

Biting the inside of your thighs, growing impatient, remaining the eye contact, it made you wet your lips, trying to grind your hips against his face.

“Pleas-" you were cut off by a surprised moan.

Roger buried his mouth between your legs, lapping uncontrollably, his hands trying to spread you even more.

One of your hands went straight and hard to the mattress, grasping the sheets, "Fuck- wh- oh god"

His tongue licking you felt like heaven, the way he hummed against your sensitive pussy made you clench around nothing, he pressed his tongue flat on you, sliding slowly up to your clit, his lips embrace it delicately as he started to suck, saliva dripping out of his mouth, which made it mind-bending, he could tell by the way your back raised from the mattress.

His vision was heart-stopping, you were falling apart just in front of him, completely naked and soft. Helpless. He could see the veins of your hand because of how tightly you were gripping the sheets. You had your eyes closed and his name was spilling from your mouth, sweat forming on your forehead.

“So close, f-fuck” your other hand ended grasping his blond locks, Roger’s reply was a hoarse moan. “Im coming!” ecstasy flowing through your body.

His only response was to speed up, now his lapping was messy, swallowing and licking all he had within reach.

You came with a loud moan, waves of pleasure crashing over your system like a train, dissipating in gasps and soft laughter, your chest was raising and falling, Roger was caressing your belly while cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand. You gave him a satisfied grin.

But your calm was disturbed by a sudden strong electric feeling, “Roger BLOODY hell-" you whimpered, his mouth was engulfed inside you again.

Both of his arms were hugging your thighs in order to keep you in place, you were squirming at the overstimulation as he kept lapping your juices, feeling your little nub growing sensitive and swollen.

“Lov- please-" you cried out, trying to stop him, you grabbed his wrist, closing your legs around his head, you could see his head going up and down, gasping for air but with no plans of stopping his work.

But he stopped for a second, he shot you a tentative look, it was a relief for you while you were trying to get some air, “Im not stopping until you began to tremble" and with that he buried himself again, his hands helping to hold your thighs up.

You let your head fall onto the pillow with a sigh, “For god sake- oh” you could hear your own ragged moans.

He groaned as he felt your hand grasping his hair, quickly he dipped two fingers inside, which you replied with a filthy moan almost inmmediately.

Now his mouth was attached to your clit, pumping his fingers in and out, the wet noises were making your skin turned like a chicken.

He took the sight of you, "I could be like this for hours, just watching you,” he deepened his fingers as deep as he could go, making you scream and curl your toes, “You’re so beautiful all spread out like this... just for me”

You looked at him, a tear sliding down your cheek, your nerves were burning, now you could feel the other orgasm coming, your vision turning to blurry.

He went down again, hands opening your folds and his tongue sliding up and down again, touching every sensitive merced he could reach, he could feel your skin vibrating deliciously.

You just cried, "Almost- almost-"

He gazed you up, “What?” voice muffled, squeezing your thigh.

Your hip jerked, “Im- coming-“ whimpering dripping your mouth.

He just chuckled, “Let it go love," and with that he returned his attention to your clit, hearing your moans as a signal to keep going.

Your second orgasm hit you powerfully hard, you literally felt like your soul was leaving your body, Your legs were so numb that you barely noticed that Roger had his face resting on the side of your thigh, looking at you and squeezing it. He watched as you were having aftershocks, your body was electrified.

“You alright doll?” he had a big smirk formed on his face.

“Yeah” you giggled, exhausted.

“I think this an obsession" he pursed his lips, collecting wetness from your cunt with the tip of his index finger.

Your body spamed and you chuckled, streching your arms, “Naughty boy” you yawned, “Wanna eat something?”

"Im not necessarily hungry for food right now." he slided his fingers through your slit.

“Rog,i dont know if can take much longer”

He had a wicked face, “You will." he said while approaching his face againg, nuzzling his nose there and feeling you clench.

Masterlist

#roger taylor #roger x reader #fic #smut #smutty #requests open #queen band #request #roger meddows taylor

[rogertaylorshbb]

"studio stress" roger Taylor x reader fanfic [part 1]

hey, I just wanna say sorry if the ending of this part is sloppy to anyone, I wrote on half of it yesterday, and I was writing the other half today but I was eating spicy noodles at the same time lol. anyway hope you enjoy this and part 2 will be posted soon!!

You pulled up slowly in front of the studio parking outside. You were dreading going inside.  It has been a stressful week for you. You were so tired, sleeping less than 4 hours last night doing large amounts of paperwork and having to work the night shift at your other job.

You weighed your head down between your arms on the steering wheel, your eyes began to swell “dont cry dont cry, don't cry” you whispered to yourself whipping your cheeks with your sleeve. You looked in your car mirror, you hoped that when you went in the studio no-one would notice your red eyes and puffy cheeks. 

You shuffled into the studio seeing brian at a desk. “Oh hey y/n” he waved. You smiled shyly and walked towards Freddie with some printed lyrics. “Here- I- printed them last night for you” you said, slurring your words together like a drunk.

“Thank you” freddie beamed while taking a sip of his coffee. “Ok everyone lets record!”.

John walked over to you handing you a little cup of hot, black coffee, “here, looks like you need it”. “Thanks John, I do” you laughed, falling back into a chair. 

You couldn't bear to sit in that studio next to the producer while they were recording. The loud beat of the drums, the screeching of Brian's guitar, and John's repetitive bass playing. Your pounding headache and sensitive ears couldn't take it so you tapped the producer on the shoulder and told him you were gonna go outside for a break.

You sat outside on the scrub, dropping your head on your knees, your arms resting on your head. You could almost fall asleep but you knew you would get in trouble and just look useless and that the band would probably fire you.

After what seemed 10 minutes you heard footsteps coming towards you. 

“Hey, you ok” Roger asked sitting down next to you. 

You lifted your head up “yea, just- very stressed”.

“Oh well, I'm here if you want to talk,” he assured, placing his hand on your back. 

“Thanks roger but i don't want to annoy you with my problems you should focus on the band” you nodded at him. 

“You're just as important as the band y/n” he smiled. “Doubt it” you blushed, shaking your head. You and Roger talked for a bit, and Roger ended up rambling about his childhood cat.

“Anyway” he sighed. He stood up taking a deep breath and held out his hand “cmon, i'll let you try out the drums”.

You took his hand as he pulled you up, you stumbled a bit when you got on your feet, lucky he was there to make sure you didn't fall.

You both strolled into the studio and were a bit confused when none of the band was there. 

Only one of the guys that worked there was there. “Um hey, where is everybody?” Roger asked. 

“Oh they all went up to that fancy place up the street, they said they would be back in a bit” Mark said grabbing his jacket “I'm off my shift now though, make sure to close the lights if you guys wanna leave. 

Roger stumped his foot and shook his head “why didn't they come get us?! Idiots”. 

“Haha, it doesn't matter, I always pack my own lunch anyway” you chuckled, reaching for your handbag pulling out a sandwich. 

“Here, you can have half,” you said, handing him one half. “No no, it's ok” he waved his hands softly. 

You both sat down on the couch and you asked Roger to tell you a funny story about his childhood while you ate. “Funny? I don't think I have a lot of funny ones, annoying ones and ones of me throwing tantrums that probably made my mum wish she never had children, sure”. 

‘Well, go on!” 

Roger told you about some stories of him and his little sister. You nearly choked on your sandwich from laughing “woah woah, don't choke '' he laughed.

You claimed yourself down. 

“So, you were really a trouble maker huh?” 

“Uh huh” he smirked, stretching his arm out over the couch. 

@sarcastic-sourwolf

#roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor fan fic #x reader #roger taylor #fanfic queen #queen fanfiction #brian may queen #queen smut #queen band #roger taylor x reader #roger meddows taylor

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

Woman taken by the wind - Roger Taylor x Fem!reader

Summary: You've taken a liking to a new band and your boyfriend cant help but tease you about your recent infatuation. 

Warnings: no swearing, implied sex, mention of oral sex, minor stress, mainly just fluff

Word count: 1.6k

     Alone in your apartment, you skip over to the turntable set up in the living room and turn up the volume to fifteen. The recently released sound of ‘Rhiannon’ by Fleetwood Mac blared through your flat. You weren't a fan of the earlier stuff from the band, but with the newest addition of Stevie Nicks and Lindsay Buckingham to the group really brought a new interesting vocal and guitar sound, you couldn’t get enough of it. You heard the track that was playing from the speakers on the radio, and you demanded that Roger pull over the car so you could go get a copy of the album. 

     Your boyfriend, Roger, wasn't as much of a ‘Fleetwood Mac super fan’ as he so lovingly calls you. He preferred the heavier tracks of Jimi Hendrix, while still liking some of the softer stuff from Dylan and such. He didn’t mind when you played them, though.

     You were alone at the moment. Roger was off in the studio with the boys. He suggested you stay home this day so you don't get caught in the middle of their idiotic arguments over if the harmony should be sung with an ‘ah’ sound or an ‘oh’ sound. You had some work to do in the apartment that day, so you were fine with staying home. Your recent purchase was great background noise for your daily chores. 

     You take a moment to walk over to the turntable again and flip over the record to side B before you continue on with washing the dishes. Swaying your hips to the beat of the song, you sang along to lyrics you were able to figure out. You had most of them memorized after listening to the album a couple of times.

     Roger had always loved your dancing. You felt dorky and rarely danced in front of others, but Roger was able to bring that side of you to light. You felt free around him, even if you still felt embarrassed to dance around him.

     You dry off the dishes and put them into the cabinet. That was another chore knocked off your list. You were surprisingly productive this afternoon. You often procrastinated by saying you'll do it later or you get too invested in whatever TV show you're watching. 

     You boogie(Rogers words) out of the kitchen and bend over the dining room table, reaching for the little notepad and checking off ‘wash dishes’ on the list. You had finally finished everything you had to do, and it was only 2 pm. You flip the cardboard cover to the front of the notebook and hook the pen back into the metal coil holding it together. 

     The way you were dancing almost made you feel like a hippie. You were too engulfed in the booming music that you didn't hear the door of your apartment unlock.

     Roger enters the apartment. He could hear the music before he even reached the doorstep. He leans against the entrance frame of the living room, watching as you dance in a pair of short pj shorts and his t-shirt. He loved seeing you wear his clothes. 

     “Hey, cutie,” Roger says, and you almost jump out of your skin at the sudden sound of his voice. “What- Roger! That's not funny!” you whine. You scramble to the turntable and turn the volume down to three. 

     Roger laughs at your childish reaction. “I think it's very funny, actually,” he says with a smirk. You feel his strong arms wrap around your waist as your bent over the turntable. “Why are you turning it down, lovie?” he asks as he takes hold of your hand and turns it up to ten. 

     “Why are you home so early?” you ask, not answering his question about the volume. Roger spins you around, smiling at you as he holds onto you in a waltz-like position. “We decided to stop for today. Too much arguing,” he says. “Is that all?” you ask as you begin swaying in his hold. “And because I missed my girl,” he smiles and gives you a kiss. 

     You hum against his soft, pillowy lips. “You were only gone for a couple of hours,” you giggle. “Is it so criminal for a man to miss his woman?” Roger laughs. “If so, give me the electric chair,” he says as he spins you around, causing a small yelp of excitement from you. “Not criminal. Maybe needy,” you smirk back.

     “You look cute,” he says, laying a kiss on your lips and then your cheek. “Oh, do I?” you ask, and he hums. “Love it when you wear my shirts,” he smiles softly as he toys with the hem of the shirt. “Especially when you wear those tiny shorts,” he adds.

     “Why? Because it looks like I’m wearing nothing underneath?” you question. 

     “Yep,” he grins and spins you again. “Maybe I should send you to the chair,” you joke. “On what charges?” he asks. “Horniness,” you say. Roger's hands slide down your sides, poking at your hips. “Oh, you're not too innocent yourself,” he points out.

     You laugh and give him a kiss before pulling yourself from his hold. “Never said I was,” 

     Roger watches as you walk away from him. “Where do you think you're going?” he asks as he cocks an eyebrow. “Changing the record,” you chuckle. You carefully lift the vinyl from the padded surface and return it to the protective sleeve before you feel Roger's hot breath against your neck. 

     “You know, I was thinking about you earlier,” he whispers into your ear. You couldn't help but smirk. “What were you thinking?” you ask innocently, still keeping your attention fixed on the neatly organized display of your shared record collection in front of you. 

     “I was thinking about that little red outfit you wore on my birthday last year,” he says. You laugh under your breath. You had great memory of that night. “Mhm?” you hum, telling him to continue as you feel his hands wrap around your waist. “You had on your favourite red lipstick,” he continues. 

     “You mean your favourite red lipstick,” you laugh. Roger always loved how you looked in that specific shade of red. He loved when it smudged onto your chin, and when you would leave kiss marks all over his body with the lipstick just to get a rise out of him. “Whatever,” he chuckles.

     “And, my head between your thighs,” he whispers. “Roger!” you whine, hitting his hand like a mother disciplining their son for having a potty mouth. Your cheeks were as red as that god-forsaken lipstick. You turn around to face him, putting on a brave face as if your cheeks weren't blaring red. “And you screaming that!” he grinned. It took every ounce of strength in your body not to smack that smirk right off his face.

     “You're such a pervert,” you joke. Roger gave you a kiss and laughed. “You keep sleeping with that pervert, so you make up your mind, y/n” he hummed.

     “See, and I would ask if you were thinking about me too, but you were probably too focused on your artsy fartsy music,” he teased. You huff and cross your arms, but it was so difficult to stay mad at him when he was staring at you with those big blue eyes. “Hey, baby, don't be so mad. I like your music,” he says as he gives your cheek a kiss. You tighten your lips as you struggle to hide your smile. “There's that smile,” he hums, and you finally let it be seen. 

     “I hate you,” you mumble through an embarrassed laugh. “Love you, too, babe,” Roger smiles. He wraps his arms around you again as the sound of the second track on The Beatles album ‘Abbey Road’ begins playing. Roger nuzzles his face into your neck and gently kisses it as you sway. “Somewhere in her smile she knows, that I don't need no other lover…” he hums to you softly, and you smile yet again in response. 

     “How's the album coming?” you ask, and you feel as he shrugs. “Sort of behind schedule, but I much rather spend time with you,” he says. “Oh, Roger. You know I don't like it when you choose me over your work,” you annoyingly say. Roger sighs, and he moves his head from his neck to meet your eyes. “I know, I know. Just, you know, the constant bickering is exhausting,” he confesses.

     “I love making music, but now it's just like clockwork now,” he says. He didn't want to admit it, but he had to. “And the record company has us on a strict deadline, it's just… so stressful,” 

     You hated to see Roger like this. You remember the days when he was so excited to go to the studio and work on the albums. But now, every day he would come home more miserable than the day before. 

     “I understand,” you tell him, letting your fingers comb through his un-styled mop. “It will get better soon, I’m sure of it,” you say. “Just wait, soon you’ll be on tour, and you get to see the world and perform for thousands of fans!” you smile, hoping that the response from the fans would cheer him up. It did, in part. 

     Roger hugs you, burring his face in your neck yet again. “Thank you, y/n,” he whispers. The only thing he didn't favour about the tours is that he didn't get to see you. You both understood that it was an important part of his career and that it would get easier with time. 

     The next track, ‘Maxwells' Silver Hammer’ comes on. This one was a bit funny to you. You both giggle as the lyric “Bang Bang Maxwells’ silver hammer came down upon her head” came. 

     “You remember that thing you mentioned about the red dress and lipstick…?” you ask, and Roger smirks. “Of course, I do,” he says. “Still in the mood?” you ask. He didn't even have to answer, because the next thing you knew Roger was pulling you down the hall to your bedroom, not even bothering to turn off the record. 

#roger taylor #roger meddows taylor #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor fluff #roger taylor fandom #roger taylor x reader

[queenmylovely]

The Best Things Ain’t Free

Summary: Roger Taylor x fem!reader. After meeting through friends, Roger is impressed with your lifestyle and you’re impressed with his prettiness. 

Word Count: 10.9k listen... she’s long

Warnings: cussing, smut (oral sex, fingering, etc.) (18+!! marked with ***)

A/N: This idea has been on my mind for ages because I can’t look at certain pictures of Roger in a fur coat without this thot. PSA that the most fictional part of this fic is reader being rich bc your girl ain’t. Let’s all use our best imagination and enjoy the life of the wealthy for a minute. Please leave feedback in any form whether it be tags, replies, asks, or messages, because I really do love hearing from you!

Masterlist; BLM Resources, Register to Vote (U.S.)

(these are what inspired this entire thing bc look at them!!! pics edited by me)

☆☆☆

Normally, you wouldn’t be one to go to a dingy pub to watch some band play a set. If you wanted to hear good music, you’d go to a concert in a real venue, with box seats and catering. And if you wanted a drink you’d go to the Ivy, Grenadier, Star, or if you really wanted a nice time, the Ritz. But your friend, Kalaya, from your time at Oxford (she had attended on a merit-based scholarship, bless her heart), had insisted that you come.

“They’re one of the best bands I’ve ever heard!” Kalaya gushed, trying to convince you to go.

“Better than the Stones? The Supremes? Janis?” you asked, referencing all of the concerts you had taken her to in uni. “We saw Janis the one and only time she played solo in London, are you telling me this student band is going to match her?”

“I said one of the best bands I’ve ever heard. And it’s not like you’ve never been to the bar before, it’s Angel’s, I took you there after exams junior year, remember?” Kalaya prodded, hoping that since it was at least somewhat familiar, you might be more likely to go.

“Oh yeah, I remember. Someone spilt a drink on me and I stunk like cheap beer for the rest of the night,” you said, wrinkling your nose in annoyance.

“C’mon you can’t condemn a whole pub just because one drunk idiot made a mistake,” Kalaya reasoned.

“Never would’ve happened at the Ritz,” you said with a huff.

Lucky for her, Kalaya never took you as seriously as you wanted to be and she laughed, “Stop being so stuck up, it’s not flattering.”

You stuck your tongue out at her, and she just rolled her eyes.

“Please, I need you to go. I fancy the guitar player and I can’t show up alone, you know I get nervous in crowds on my own,” Kalaya reminded you with her best puppy-dog eyes.

Your face broke out in a grin, “You didn’t say you fancied someone, oh my gosh, of course I’ll go! Tell me more about this guitarist.”

_____

The one caveat you had made Kalaya agree to was new outfits for the show. You would go to a grungy student pub to support your friend, but like hell were you going to dress the same as everyone there. After a few hours traipsing around Oxford Street, you both had completely new, fabulous outfits that were sure to stun, on your dime of course.

When you had first met Kalaya, she hadn’t liked you paying for things for her, but when you insisted that it only made sense for you to do or else you would be doing everything alone, she began to accept it. Plus, you had told her, the money was doing a lot more good being spent on fancy dinners and trips to the sea than sitting in some bank account in Switzerland. Anyway, your parents owned the largest shipping company in England, or something, so it wasn’t like there wasn’t plenty to spare.

“It’ll take about an hour and ten minutes by car, so we should leave about two and a half hours before the concert so we can get there early,” you planned out two days before the concert, during dinner at your shared apartment with Kalaya.

“Car? We can just take the train, it’s practically the same amount of time,” Kalaya replied.

“And get our new outfits all dirty before the show? No way, Chay can take us. I already told him about it and he’s bringing Martie so they can go too,” you explained. Chay (short for Charlie, short for Charles) was your family’s driver and Martie was his wife. They were in their early thirties so they still appreciated new music.

“What if something happens with Brian and I want to stay? Won’t Martie and Chay want to come home?” Kalaya said sheepishly.

“When that happens, we’ll just get rooms at that Inn on the boulevard and wait until morning to bring you home,” you said with a smirk.

Kalaya got her own cheeky smile, “And what about when you inevitably sweep some unknowing pretty boy off his feet? Where will they go without you to get the rooms?”

You hummed, thinking about all the boys that might be at the concert, “They have their expense card, of course.”

_____

The afternoon before the concert, the four of you met at the drive of your parent's house, ready and dressed for the night. You’re in dark wash bell bottoms, an emerald green satin top, and black leather platform boots. Draped over one arm you had your favorite fur coat, a dark brown mink, because although it was August, it got cold late at night, especially in Oxford. Kalaya had chosen a black flowy dress that came to her mid-thigh and made her medium-brown skin richer in comparison, and black suede booties. It would’ve been boring except for the silver and gold thread embroidering it, making it look like a starry night sky. She had told you it would be perfect because Brian studied stars.

Martie and Chay were a little more understated, as was to be expected since they didn’t have to try to catch anyone’s eye. Martie was in an orange floral dress in a similar cut to Kalaya’s, but a few inches longer. The orange of the dress and the yellow and olive green flowers complimented her dark brown skin with its warm undertone. Chay was in black bell bottoms, a dark red button-down with a paisley print, and regular black boots. You told him that he was lucky his skin was still tanned from the summer holiday because his typical paper-white skin combined with the outfit would’ve made him look like a vampire. Chay laughed sarcastically and Martie changed the subject by complimenting you two girls and then turned back to Chay, noticing his large collar was a little crooked and fixing it.

Everyone, including their overnight bags just in case, got into the car and Chay immediately turned the radio up, the four of you singing along the whole way there.

_

Once you got to the bar, the four of you grabbed drinks and sat at a table near the back because it wasn’t crowded yet. The group chatted easily, laughing at each other’s jokes and stories. You were all more like family than anything because Chay’s father was the family driver before him and he and Martie had been together since they were teenagers. Since Kalaya always came to all the family vacations (that Martie and Chay also came to, as “employees;” their only duty being a designated driver), the four of you were used to hanging out and going to clubs and concerts together.

Slowly, the bar started filling up and you turned to Kalaya, “We should probably go to the front now so we can secure a spot.”

Kalaya nodded, “Are you guys coming?”

Martie and Chay looked at each other, communicating silently in that way couples do. Martie answered, “No, we’ll stay here. Don’t wanna be around a bunch of sweaty students.”

“My sentiments exactly,” you said with a roll of your eyes and Kalaya elbowed you. Then you looked at Chay with a sheepish smile, “Can I leave my coat with you?”

“Yes,” Chay huffed with his own eye roll, but he was still smiling. “Now go on, get up there.”

Kalaya and you laughed and waved, hurrying to get a good spot close to the stage. That was one positive of a small venue, being close enough to the band to do some serious damage to your hearing as well as being able to actually see the sweat dripping down their temples and chests once they really got into the music.

The crowd grew around you and you were jostled a couple of times, but once you glared at the people who did it, that seemed to stop. The energy of the crowd grew and grew in anticipation and you heard lots of chatter about how excited they were to see the band. Maybe Kalaya hadn’t oversold them.

It wasn’t long before all of the stage lights went out and a booming voice came from all around, announcing the arrival of, “Your entertainment tonight, Her Majesty, Queen!”

You laughed, appreciating the audacity of the name as someone who liked to be somewhat outrageous yourself. The lights flashed back on and you realized that the band was already onstage; they went right into the first song, drums, guitar, and bass starting strong. You listened to the music, enjoying it already, but were more focused on checking out the band, which was easy because you were only ten feet away from the stage.

The singer was a slim, elegant man with light brown skin and jet black hair. His eyes were a warm brown and when he looked out at the crowd it was as if he was connecting with every person. Round lips and large teeth caught your eye and as you watched them enunciate every syllable, you couldn’t help but think they must make a wonderful smile. He was wearing a black satin jumpsuit embroidered and embellished until it shone in the light. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut and eyeliner just the same kept him on the rock side of glam, any softer and he could’ve been considered disco. And even though the concert had only just started, he was already completely into it; the energy he gave off as he strode about the stage only adding to the crowd’s.

Next you looked at the guitarist, Brian, who Kalaya was already staring at, mouth hanging open in a way that told you she didn’t realize how obvious it was. You gently reached over and tapped her chin, bringing her out of her trance and her eyes widened as she realized what she was doing. She started swaying to the music and looked around the stage in a much more casual way.

Back to the guitarist, as Kalaya had told you he was extremely tall, with some of the longest legs you had ever seen on anyone. With velvet black pants and a flowing white blouse, he was as glam as the singer. He was even more slim than the singer, and with the mound of curls that made up his head he kinda looked like a lollipop, nothing you would ever tell Kalaya. He had pale white skin, a prominent nose, and otherwise delicate features, but your main attention was brought to his hazel eyes that looked at the crowd as if he was surveying them. Overall you were thoroughly impressed with Kalaya’s choice to fancy him.

On the opposite side of the singer was the bassist, made clear by the fact that his guitar only had four strings and a longer neck. His clothing was a little more reserved than the other two, simply a black satin suit with a white satin shirt underneath. His chestnut brown hair was long and wavy, and it framed his also pale white face well. He was pretty relaxed in his playing, like it wasn’t that hard, but watching his hands you could tell the skill it took to stay on beat through some of the most complex rhythms. A soft nose, green-grey eyes that seemed kind, full lips, and a familiar feeling endeared him to you instantly, a smile coming to your face as he smirked when the singer pressed up against him.

Lastly, you turned your attention to the drummer, and just about gasped. Yes, the other three had been beautiful, but none of them were as pretty as him. His hair was shaggy, wavy, and dirty blonde, and heaven knew you loved your blondes. His white skin was lightly tanned which just made his baby blue eyes stand out even more. He was wearing some sort of black blouse but it was completely unbuttoned, leaving his chest that was toned from drumming totally exposed. You couldn’t see much else because of his kit but what you could see, your eyes ate up. As he drummed, his lips stuck out in a pout and his hair swooshed, glinting gold as he played the cymbals.

Kalaya had only been half-joking when she talked about you finding your pretty boy and now you had, your sights completely set on this drummer. Plus you figured that if Kalaya knew Brian, you had an automatic in.

Suddenly, you were making eye contact with the drummer but instead of being surprised or flustered, you started your mission. Biting your lip in a smile, rocking your hips to the rhythm he was playing, and tilting your head to the side, you made it clear you were checking him out. That seemed to spur him on and the drums got louder as he played harder. If he was trying to impress you, it was working, but more because it was a testament to his stamina than to his skill. Besides, you could see that you had done plenty to impress him by subverting his expectations and staring him down instead of swooning as soon as he caught your eye with his.

Not that there was anything wrong with swooning, in fact Kalaya was swooning over Brian at this very second because he had smiled at her, but you liked being the one to cause the swoon. You knew you were attractive and knew other people knew it too. You were confident and knew what you wanted, an energy you liked to radiate when you were around pretty boys.  

The drummer was the one to break eye contact first, looking around the room for a minute as if trying to distract himself. Then he looked back at you and you just smiled and waved at him. By the way his eyes widened and cheeks pinkened further than they already were, you could tell he was a little flustered, and laughed, something you were sure he could see as well. He didn’t seem to be looking away this time, so you did instead, turning your attention to Kalaya to make sure she was doing alright.

“How’s it going, babe? He in love with you yet?” you half-yelled into her ear because the music was so loud.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, “More like I’ve just fallen further in love with him. But he has smiled and waved at me a couple times in between songs.”

“See? Don’t be all modest!” you urged.

“Well what about you? I see the eyes you’re making at that pretty boy drummer. He’s just the epitome of your type, huh?” Kalaya shot back.

You sighed happily, “He really is.”

_

About an hour later, the last encore was done and a cheap curtain had separated the band from the rest of the pub as they packed up their instruments. But apparently they would be joining the crowd later on, based on the talk of the people that had been standing around you up front. Not everyone seemed aware of this fact or maybe they just didn’t care, because the crowd thinned by half once the set was over. Quickly making a game plan, you and Kalaya decided to wait by the bar but not at the bar, in the path the band would most likely take from backstage to get a drink.

After waiting for only 10 minutes, you saw a curly head of hair bobbing through a doorway and realized they were on the move. You signaled to Kalaya with your eyes that they were appearing behind her (now out of their stage clothes), not interrupting what she was saying in an effort to remain casual. Once she had realized what you meant, she slowed her words, hoping to get interrupted. The blonde came into view and you flicked your eyes over to him just once, letting him know you knew he was there.

“Kalaya?” Brian asked, tapping her shoulder lightly.

Expertly, Kalaya turned like she was surprised, “Brian!”

They hugged quickly and she pulled back, “You all were amazing, just like last time.”

“Yes, well, I’m glad I actually have a chance to talk to you this time, instead of rushing off to deal with a flat tire on the van,” Brian smiled. Then he looked over to you and Kalaya jumped in.

“This is my friend,” she introduced you. “We went to Oxford together. She already knows all about you.”

Brian looked a little pleased at that, and Kalaya brought a hand to her mouth, realizing her faux pas.

“She means your band. She had to make a hard sell for me to come all the way back to Oxford to see the show,” you explained away what she said even though you all knew that wasn’t what she had meant.

“Well I’m glad you both made it,” Brian said with an easy smile. “Speaking of the band, I’d better introduce them all.”

Brian stepped back so he was in line with the other three and Kalaya turned so she was facing them next to you.

“This here is Freddie, our wonderful singer. Then we have John—”

“You can call me Deaky,” he interjected.

“Deaky then, our fantastic bassist. And finally our resident pretty boy himself, our drummer, Roger,” Brian finished with a bit of a smirk.

You all exchanged pleasantries and as Kalaya was drawn into a conversation with the rest of the band, Roger stepped closer to you.

“Pretty boy, huh?” You asked with a teasing smile. He nodded, about to say something in defense or make a jab at Brian, but you spoke first, “Glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

Roger flushed at that, a small smile coming to his face, but he changed the subject, “So you went to Oxford?”

“Yes,” you said slowly.

“Not a big fan?” he asked.

“No, I did really enjoy it here, just kind of small for my taste. I mean, over an hour to get to where anyone big’s playing and never having heard of fine dining? I suppose it was a good change of pace, or at least that’s what my parents say, but I’m glad to be back in the city,” you explained and Roger listened intently.

“So raised in London then?”

“Yes, except for the summers. Then it was Nice or Barcelona. Oh and one year New York,” you knew you were being a little overt with the flaunting of your upbringing, but you could tell that Roger was the type of person to enjoy the best things in life, and his eyes were as big as dinner plates as he listened to you, clearly impressed. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m just from Truro, not quite as glamorous as all those,” Roger told you and while he wasn’t exactly embarrassed, you could tell he was waiting for your reaction.

“Truro’s in Cornwall, right?” you asked and Roger confirmed with a nod. “Then I’ve been there! Yeah a couple years ago Kalaya and I went on a trip to the sea and took a little detour to Truro, we loved it! Perfect for a little weekend getaway.”

Roger smiled big, your praising of his hometown charming him, “But how is Truro on the way to the sea? Wouldn’t you just go to Brighton or Southend?”

You smiled, laughing at yourself, “Well I got it in my head that I wanted to go to the very western tip of the country, and luckily Kalaya is a good enough sport to go along with my whims.”

“Do you often have these types of whims?” Roger asked and there was more cheek behind the words than in their meanings.

“Well I adore travelling,” you said, a little smirk coming to your face. Then you fixed your gaze to Roger’s eyes, “And my personal philosophy is to do whatever I want, whenever I want, with whoever I want.”

Roger swallowed, his mouth parted, and he blinked a couple times before responding, trying a laugh to cover for his reaction to your words, “A bit hedonistic, no?”

“Hmm, a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, no?” you responded quickly. Not that you actually knew that Roger was similar to you in that way, but watching how he reacted to everything you said made you sure enough to say that.

Scoffing as if that weren’t true, all he could say was, “What?--who?”

“How are the two of you getting on?” the bassist, John-- Deaky, interjected, coming to stand so the three of you made a triangle.

“Well Roger here just called me hedonistic,” you said matter-of-factly, looking at Deaky with wide eyes.

“Ha! You’re one to talk, Rog,” Deaky told him, clapping him on the shoulder and laughing.

Roger just looked at you, surprised that you would’ve brought it up to Deaky. You just stuck your tongue between your teeth and smiled victoriously; you loved to keep boys on their toes, especially ones that looked so cute when they were surprised.

Deaky turned to you, “You look really familiar, have we met before?”

“You know, I was thinking the same thing, but you had shorter hair, right?” you looked at him more closely.

He laughed and nodded, “Yeah, this is pretty new.”

“What university did you go to?” you asked.

“Chelsea college in London, I was in electrical engineering,” Deaky replied.

You exclaimed in recognition, “The scholarship dinner! You got my family’s engineering scholarship, that was like five years ago.”

“That’s right! We hung out during that tour of one of the facilities when our parents were talking endlessly,” he remembered and you laughed along with him.

“Wait, I thought the only private scholarship you got was from that family with the shipping business that are, like, filthy rich,” Roger said and you and John just looked at each other and then at Roger, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then his eyes went wide, “That’s your family?!”

“Might wanna close your mouth Rog,” Deaky said with a laugh, tapping Roger’s chin as you had Kalaya’s.

A voice came from the bar and you looked to see Brian waving the three of you over. Deaky immediately started walking but you hung back next to Roger.

He seemed to be walking slowly because he was still processing the information, “I kinda thought you were exaggerating about the summer trips. And you weren’t kidding when you said whatever you want whenever you want, were you?”

You reached over and tucked a stray strand of hair away from his face and Roger looked at your hand as it dropped back to your side, “Mm-mm, wasn’t kidding about the whoever, either.”

Roger looked back up at you and you winked before turning to the others and gladly accepting the drink held out to you by Brian.

Chatting in a little group with Brian, Kalaya, and Deaky, you noticed that Freddie and Roger were off to the side but didn’t pay it too much mind. You were more focused on whether this Brian liked your Kalaya as much as she did he, and judging by the way he stared at her with adoration in his eyes as she talked, he did.

Standing apart from the rest of you with Freddie, Roger took a gulp of his drink as he looked at you laughing with the others.

“Fred, man, I can hardly keep up with this girl. We’ve only been talking for like ten minutes and all the things she says! I hardly know whether I wanna be with her or be her,” Roger told Freddie.

“What do you mean?” Freddie said with a confused laugh.

“Well she’s beautiful and funny and smart, sophisticated, has great taste--” “I think you’re confusing her with me,” Freddie interrupted with a sly smile.

“Ha-ha, Fred. Did I mention she’s also loaded?” Roger deadpanned.

“She’s got me there,” Freddie admitted. “Well are you going to do anything about it?

“I would, but she’s kinda intimidating,” Roger said and when Freddie looked confused he elaborated. “Like, she’s been flirting more than me tonight, even when we were onstage.”

“That’s saying something,” Freddie agreed.

“Exactly, so I feel like she’s someone who would want to make the first move,” Roger pointed out. And then a little quieter, “which you know I have absolutely no problem with.”

Freddie laughed loudly, “Well if things don’t work out between you two, I might just have to make her my best friend.”

“Hey, that’s me,” Roger said with a frown.

Patting Roger’s arm, Freddie rolled his eyes and told him, “I know darling, it was a joke.”

Deaky, Kalaya, Brian, and you got up from your seats at the bar, catching their attention, so they walked over to where you were.

“We’re walking the girls out,” Deaky explained because Brian was too busy chatting with Kalaya. Freddie and Roger nodded and then Deaky led the way, cutting through the crowd to the exit. Brian and Kalaya were lock-step behind him, and Freddie, Roger, and you followed up last, in that order.

“Leaving already?” Freddie asked you.

“Yeah, well if we want to get rooms for the night we better head over,” you explained.

“Oh are you staying at the Inn too?” Roger asked, his ears pricking up.

You nodded with a little laugh, “Seeing as it’s the only lodging in town, yes.”

Freddie laughed and Roger smiled sheepishly, thinking of something to say when you put your hand on his arm.

“Hold on a second, I gotta grab our ride,” you said quickly before heading towards the tables in the back.

Freddie and Roger shared a confused look, having assumed that the two of you would call a cab. You were walking back only twenty seconds later, slipping on your fur coat.

Roger gasped softly and gripped Freddie’s arm, “Fuck Fred, I’m in love.”

Freddie laughed, but his surprise-widened eyes were on the coat too, “With her or the coat?”

“Both,” he whispered back as you came up next to them, joined by a man and woman.

“Okay, quick introductions,” you said, realizing that you were standing halfway obstructing the doors. “Freddie, Roger, this is Chay and Martie. Technically Chay’s my family’s driver, but they’re both more like my siblings that I drag along to things like these. Chay and Martie, this is Freddie and Roger, of the band.”

“Yes, we assumed,” Martie said with a laugh, shaking Freddie’s hand first and then switching with her husband.

“Looks like we should head outside,” Chay pointed out, and the five of you exited into the cool night air. “We loved the set, you all were fantastic. And by the way, she did not have to drag us here, we were rather excited to see you guys ourselves.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” Freddie said with a warm smile and it was infectious enough that everyone smiled as well.

“Well, shall we go bring ‘round the car, babe?” Martie asked, always good at keeping Chay from getting too distracted.

“Yes, right, nice to meet you,” Chay said, and they all did their goodbyes.

You turned to Freddie and Roger, “Guess I’ll be leaving in a minute. I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk more, Freddie, I feel like we’d have a lot to talk about.”

“Me too dear,” Freddie said warmly. Then he gave you a pointed look, “But don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”

You both knew what he meant, and by the looks of Roger’s flushed face, he did too although he pretended not to hear. It was hard to help the pleased smile that came to your face when you realized Roger must have talked about you to Freddie.

Freddie took a look at Roger and then said to both of you, “I’ll just go say goodbye to Kalaya then.”

He walked away and you took a couple steps toward Roger, until you were only about a foot apart. Roger wasn’t much taller than you, especially in your platforms, but from that distance you had to look up to look him in the eyes. You didn’t say anything, just looked at him and waited until he blushed again and looked down for a second, eyes landing on your coat.

“That coat looks great on you,” he rushed out, tucking a piece of hair behind his hair, which did nothing to calm him as it just reminded him of when you did earlier.

You looked down at your coat too, hands brushing over the soft, brown fur, “You like it?”

“Who wouldn’t?” he said quickly and you chuckled.

“You know Roger,” you stepped closer and put a hand on his arm. “I think we’d have a lot to talk about too. Probably have lots in common. You should call me sometime to figure out all what that is.”

With that, you reached into the inside pocket of your coat and pulled out one of your cards that you always kept handy ‘cause you never knew when a networking opportunity would present itself. You held the card up between your index and middle finger before reaching behind Roger and tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. You let yourself linger that close to him and drank in his wide eyes, the way his mouth parted and how he seemed to be leaning down closer and closer to you.

“The car’s here y/n!” Kalaya called out to you, pulling both you and Roger out of the moment.

You looked at him once more, touching his arm again and then walking away. Throwing him a smile over your shoulder, you called, “See you later, pretty boy!”

Kalaya and you got into the back of the car and waved through the window to the four boys that were watching you leave. Once they were out of sight you turned to her.

“Good catch interrupting me and Roger then,” you told her.

“Always leave ‘em wanting more, right?” Kalaya said with a grin.

You laughed, “Right, exactly. By the way, things with Brian seemed to be going good.”

“They were, we had a lot of fun talking tonight. I think he likes me,” she said with a hopeful smile.

You nudged her, “I know he likes you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you all night.”

“Same with Roger and you,” she pointed out.

“Well, I know he likes me too,” you said with a smirk and the whole car laughed. “You know if I were the type of person to get embarrassed, that’d do it.”

_____

A week later, during a giant heat wave that left no one able to do anything but sit inside and swelter, Roger called you around 7:00pm. Because you were lying on your bed with a fan pointed directly at you and you had a phone right next to your bed, it only took one ring for you to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, y/n?” you could tell by his voice it was Roger, but you kept that to yourself.

“Yep, who’s this?” you asked pleasantly.

“Roger from, um, Queen,” he said hesitantly.

“Oh, Roger, hello! You don’t have to say ‘from Queen,’ you know, I remember you perfectly,” you told him, sitting up so you were leaning back on your arm. Before he could say something in response, you started again, “So how are you, how are you doing? Have you had any more shows?”

“Good, I’m great. We had two more shows last weekend further north and we’ll have more next week around town--”

“Oh really? I think Kalaya and I would really love to go to another show, we so enjoyed the last,” you interrupted.

“Brilliant, you should definitely come, both of you, I can get you the details,” he returned and you interjected with a quick thanks. “But, what about you? How are you?”

“Ugh I’d be better, but it’s just so hot today,” you complained, flopping back onto the mattress.

“Well what are you wearing?” Roger asked and you grinned.

“Oh, getting a little cheeky are we, pretty boy? Haven’t even gone out and you’re asking what I’m wearing?” you asked mock-incredulously just to make him flustered.

“No--no, I just meant like if you’re hot, like maybe,” Roger was babbling, trying to find the best way to explain what he meant. “Just if you’re wearing layers or something thick or something I just--”

“It’s okay, I’ll tell you,” you said with a giggle. “Let’s see, I’m wearing satin running shorts, that to be honest are too short to run in, and one of those little strappy halter crop tops, you know the kind?”

“Y-yeah,” was all Roger could muster.

“So nothing that’s making me hot. And I’m not even wearing a bra so that’s not making me uncomfortable,” you reasoned as if this were a reasonable conversation.

You could hear his breath quicken over the phone and there was a pause where neither of you said anything.

“Maybe I should just go nude.”

You knew what you were doing, practically torturing the poor boy, but he had been the one to bring up what you were wearing, and it was the truth. But if you were simply answering his question with no impure intentions you would’ve been a lot less descriptive.

Roger made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh and then that was it so you sat up and kept going, “That reminds me, I’ve just had an idea. Today seems like a write off because it’s too hot to function, but it’s supposed to be cooler tomorrow, are you doing anything?”

He cleared his throat before he answered, “Um, no, I’m not busy.”

“Great! Kalaya and I were going to go shopping but I guess she’s hanging out with Brian instead. You can come with me and offer advice,” you told him.

“You’d want my advice?” Roger asked, confused.

“Yeah, I’ve seen your clothes both onstage and off. You have great style, Roger,” you affirmed and he smiled at the praise.

“Thanks, so do you. Um, that sounds great,” he replied.

“Okay, do you know the boutique on the corner of 10th and Wilder?” Roger hummed yes. “Good, let’s meet there at 11:30?”

“Perfect, looking forward to it,” he said flirtily.

You smiled, “Me too. Well, I should probably go, Kalaya and I are going swimming tonight at my parents’ to make up for her flaking out tomorrow. I’d invite you along, but even though my parents are out of town, they’d definitely hear about their daughter skinny dipping with some random pretty boy they don’t know. See you tomorrow!”

“I… bye,” Roger said, sounding incredibly sad that he couldn’t stay on or go swimming.

You hung up and then immediately rushed to Kalaya’s room to tell her all about the conversation.

_____

When you walked into the boutique at 11:25am, the clerk, Ayan, waved to you, as you were a frequent patron of the store. You had probably already seen all that there was to see, but thought that Roger’s fresh eyes might see something you hadn’t given much thought to before. There were a couple other customers around, but it was a little slow for a Saturday morning so you went to chat with Ayan about any new arrivals while you waited for Roger to arrive.

They were explaining that the boutique had gotten some fur coats from an estate that were in impeccable condition. The boutique was one of your favorites because it stocked mainly independent designers, consignment, and didn’t turn up its nose at thrifted finds of luxury items. In fact, it was where you had gotten your fur coat a few years before from the estate of a well known West End actress from the forties.

“There’s this one really lovely coyote--” Ayan cut themself off, eyes widening as they looked towards the door. “Don’t look now, but some special type of pretty boy is just about to walk in.”

Thinking only one person could fit that description, you looked, smiling as Roger walked in, scanning the store for you.

“You looked!” Ayan whisper-yelled and you couldn’t help but laugh. The sound drew Roger’s eyes over to you and you waved before turning back to them.

“Don’t worry, he’s meeting me. See you in a while with loads to buy under your commission,” you told them, winking.

“That’s why you’re my favorite customer,” they joked and you chuckled as you walked away.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you said cheerfully as you reached him before leaning in for a kiss on the cheek. He kissed you back and when you pulled back his cheeks were the cute pink that you were getting used to seeing.

“Hey, nice shirt,” he complimented.

You looked down at yourself. You were wearing high waisted medium wash denim shorts and a Hendrix t-shirt tied to the side at your waist.

“Thanks, I got it at his concert I went to,” you explained, smoothing it out.

“Where’d you see him?” Roger asked curiously.

“Royal Albert Hall, in ‘69. Me and Kalaya went together, it was a great show,” you said, remembering how it felt to see him perform.

“No way, I went to that concert too!” Roger exclaimed and you laughed excitedly.

“I wonder if we saw each other at all,” you said, smiling at the thought.

“Uh-uh, I would’ve remembered you perfectly,” Roger told you with a bold smile and this time, you were the one that was flustered.

“Should we start? I’m counting on you to find whatever I’ve overlooked in this store,” you said, changing the subject as you turned towards a rack of clothes.

“Do you have anything specific that you need?” Roger asked distractedly as he flicked through the hangers.

“The only need I have is to have all the best things this store has to offer,” you said airily.

Roger laughed and turned to you, saying teasingly, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re spoilt?”

“They usually stop when I pay them not to,” you said straight-faced, but Roger’s laugh made you break and you laughed together, leaning closer until you were sharing the same air and you placed a hand on his arm to steady yourself.

You were just wearing sandals, so Roger was taller to you than the week before and you actually had to tilt your head up to make eye contact this close. Roger’s laughter-brightened eyes looked at your still smiling lips and you noticed, the shift in mood making your breath quicken and your heart race. Under your fingers, the warm skin of his arm made you want to feel that warmth all over, and you wondered how long it would be until you could.

Then another customer brushed by, mumbling an “excuse me” awkwardly and the two of you were pulled away from a moment yet again. Your hand dropped from his arm and he turned back to the rack. It wasn’t long before your chatter started up again, especially as Roger found things that he liked for you to try on.

When he had made his way through the entire store, he had six things for you. He would have had a lot more but most of what he liked you already had.

First up was a black mesh long sleeve shirt that Roger told you to try on underneath your band shirt. It was longer than your t-shirt and you tucked it into your shorts, so your midriff that was exposed by the gap in between your clothes was covered by the mesh.

You came out of the dressing room, holding your arms out for Roger to see and doing a twirl, smiling widely.

“Do you like it?” he asked, smiling to match.

You nodded enthusiastically, “You know, when I saw this weeks ago I had no idea how to style it, but I love this! Very punk, street fashion, I’m a woman of the people.”

“Oh my gosh, never mind, I’m not sure you deserve to wear that,” Roger reached out and grabbed the sleeve, acting like he was going to pull it off.

“Stop!” you said through laughter. “You’ll stretch it out!”

He let you go and you went back in to try on more. There ended up being two dresses that you didn’t like because of color for one and the sheer amount of ruffles for the other. Then a shirt you realized you had in another color at home and a skirt that was itchy. Finally, there was a denim shirt that you didn’t really like because it was so plain. But you put it on anyway, figuring you’d humor him.

It was medium wash, the same color as your shorts, and it had some flowers embroidered in colorful thread which you supposed were nice, but overall it looked blah.

You stepped out of the dressing room again and Roger saw your not-so-happy face.

“What’s wrong?”

You scrunched up your face, “Don’t like it, it looks weird.”

Roger rolled his eyes with a smile, “That’s because you’re wearing it wrong. C’mere.”

You stepped close to him and he said a soft “may I” to which you nodded. His long fingers unbuttoned the bottom two buttons of the shirt. Then he tied it in a knot, fixing the ends so they laid correctly. His fingers brushed your skin and though they were warm, the feeling made you shiver. Roger was moving his hands so delicately, precisely, and you felt a rush of want go through you.

“And since you’re wearing a t-shirt,” even more carefully, he undid the upper buttons, leaving only the middle two done. Then he turned you around to look in the mirror and immediately your mind was changed. The way Roger styled it emphasized your waist instead of hiding it and now the monotone look worked instead of looking drab.

“How do you feel about it now?” Roger asked with a proud little smile.

“I love it, thank you,” you said, looking at him through the mirror.

Roger stepped past you into the dressing room and grabbed the mesh shirt, “Well here are your two finds.”

He handed the shirt to you, but before he could return his hands to his sides, you grabbed one of them, sliding your fingers along his to his palm and feeling the calluses there from drumming.

Roger watched your hand on his and only looked up when you started talking.

“Did you see anything else you liked?”

“Oh, do you want more than these two things? I can look again,” Roger suggested.

You smiled softly, squeezing his hand, “No, I mean did you see anything you liked for yourself? So I can thank you for helping me with these.”

“You don’t have to,” Roger protested.

“I might be spoiled, but I like to do some spoiling myself. I want to get you something, and this shop is too good for nothing to catch your eye. Anything you liked, nothing’s too much,” you told him, thumb rubbing over the back of his hand.

“Anything?” Roger hesitated.

“Anything, Roger,” you said, using your free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. That seemed to reassure him.

“I did see this display with this really gorgeous…” he trailed off, still uncertain, looking down.

“Really gorgeous… what?” you prompted.

“… fur coat,” he looked up to see your reaction. You were beaming.

“That’s the one Ayan was telling me about, the coyote one, right? It is gorgeous, they'll be so happy that it’s gonna sell already!” you exclaimed, using your hold on his hand to pull him over to that part of the store.

Roger followed you, a little confused about what you said, but glad that you seemed so happy. You let go of Roger’s hand, set your clothes on the corner of a nearby table, and pulled the coat off the mannequin, handing it to Roger. He pulled it on carefully, pulling the sides so they were equal.

“Here,” you put your hands behind his neck and then collected the hair that had gotten trapped underneath the coat and moved it to where it should be. He smiled his thanks and you smiled back, before turning him around to face the mirror he was standing in front of.

You stepped a little to the side of him and watched him look at himself. He let out a little laugh, the kind that meant “damn, I didn’t think I’d look this good,” and you had to agree.

Then he turned back around to you, “Whaddya think?”

You looked him up and down, the desire you felt earlier only growing, “You look… hot.”

Roger was a little surprised at your outright statement, but that was nothing compared to the surprise he felt when you grabbed the lapels of the coat and used them to pull him to you, kissing him full on the lips without hesitation.

As shocked as he was at the spontaneity, kissing you was something he had been thinking about for a while, so he recovered quickly, kissing you back. He put one hand just above your waist and the other on one of your hands, keeping it there.

But before either of you could deepen the kiss, you heard the sound of heels clacking and pulled back. Roger’s lips followed yours, and you giggled, leaning back towards him. You only planned to give him another peck but his soft lips distracted you for another five seconds or so before you remembered what you were doing.

You pulled back, dropping your hands, except Roger kept the one he had been holding and linked his fingers with yours, smiling at you. He still looked clear-eyed and focused after the kiss, so you decided that you had to get him home quickly so you could remedy that.

“So I was thinking we should go ring up and then go to my place. To drop off my new clothes and… stuff,” you said, a bit of a suggestive emphasis on the last word.

“Let’s,” Roger said, picking your shirt up off the table.

The two of you ended up taking off your new finds, figuring it’d be too hot outside for a fur coat and denim shirt, and then headed to the checkout. Ayan was pleased, but not all too surprised that you were taking home the new fur, even if it was technically going to Roger’s home. Roger, to his credit, didn’t have any more trouble with you paying, but insisted that he carry back all the bags. You agreed with the stipulation that he would still hold your hand, which he did.

You only lived a ten minute walk away, and Roger had taken the underground, so you walked the way home. There was chatting along the way, but it was hard to get too deep into any one topic with the feeling of each other’s hands and the anticipation of what was to come distracting you.

Once you got to your building, you were ushered in by the doorman that tipped his hat and wished you both a good day. Then the lobby manager told you a package had arrived and gave you a little thin rectangular box the size of a book. Finally you got into the elevator and the attendant hit the button for the highest floor, yours.

“It’s from my parents,” you told Roger about the box.

“Are they still travelling?”

“Yeah, they should be in Barcelona right about now,” you replied.

“Must be beautiful there,” Roger mused and you hummed in agreement. Then the elevator dinged and the two of you got off, waving to the attendant as the doors closed. You unlocked one of the two doors that were in the hallway (the other was the stairs), and opened the door, ushering Roger in first since he was carrying things.

You took off your shoes to the right of the entryway, next to a pile of other shoes and Roger did the same. Then you grabbed the garment bag that held Roger’s fur coat and hung it on the coat stand. You also took the paper bag with your shirts and put it on your dining table with the package as Roger followed you the rest of the way into your apartment. As you walked about, putting things where they went, Roger was looking around at your place. You had a dining area that turned into a living room with giant floor to ceiling windows on the walls that looked out over the city. Roger was absorbed by trying to see if he could see his building from here when he heard you calling him.

It took him a minute to figure out where you were; there was a long hallway that led to many doors. But it turned out you were in the first off of the dining room which was the kitchen.

As he came into the room, you looked up at him with a smile, “Here, wash up, I cut us up some peaches, if you like them.”

“Love ‘em,” he replied sweetly as he headed to the sink.

“Do you want anything to drink? I have water, soda, tea…”

“Water’s great,” Roger answered and you got two glasses. “I was looking out the windows, you have quite the view.”

“We’ll have to eat this in my bedroom, you can see Hyde Park from there,” you told him and he grinned excitedly, grabbing the bowl of peaches and then walking behind you, nudging you forward with his knee and you laughed.

“Right so, what are all these doors then? Seems like an awful lot for one flat,” Roger teased and you chuckled.

So you pointed to each as you came to it, “Bathroom, office, guest bedroom that Kalaya uses as a closet, Kalaya’s bedroom with an ensuite, closet that also leads to my room--”

“Wait, like a walk-in closet? Oh I have to see this,” Roger said, heading for the door.

“Later, later, I promise,” you said, grabbing his sleeve to pull him back. “We still have the pièce de résistance, my bedroom.”

With that, you pushed open the door and nudged Roger to walk in. He did, eyes quickly taking in your four-poster bed, vanity, bookshelves, record player and collection, chaise lounge, and finally matching windows to the ones in the living room. He walked over to the chaise which was in front of the windows and set down the bowl on the little side table, looking out the windows. You set down the glasses and stood next to him.

“Do you spend a lot of time here?” he gestured to the chaise.

“Yeah, when I’m home alone. I’ll just sit and watch the city live its life for awhile. It’s like people-watching but on a bigger scale,” you explained and he nodded.

So Roger sat down on the chaise, back against the raised end and legs spread out in front of him. He smiled at you and patted the space between his legs. You sat there, your back against his front, but you tilted yourself to the side so you could face each other more easily.

Roger grabbed the peaches and the two of you fed each other slices as you watched the city. It was a quiet and lovely moment with a growing underpinning of desire as the juices dripped down your chins and you kissed away the excess. Once the peaches were gone, you turned more towards him, catching his lips with yours fully once again. The taste of peach lingered on both of your lips, and the kisses were just as sweet as the fruit, just as soft as its skin.

Bringing your hands to Roger’s face, you swiped your tongue along his lower lip, moving it inside when he opened his mouth. Roger made a soft sound and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer until your chests were flush. Your breaths pushed you even closer and the feeling was intoxicating, all your senses consumed by the warmth of the moment. You tried adjusting to straddle Roger’s legs, but the angle of the chaise wasn’t very easy for that, so you pulled back, laughing lightly.

Roger had been even further into the kiss than you were so he wasn’t exactly sure why you were laughing but smiled all the same. This time, you saw his unfocused eyes and the tilted grin on his face and felt very proud of your work. Standing up, you brought Roger with you, grabbing the belt loops of his jeans to pull him with you as you walked backward towards your bed. Then you spun him around, pulling open one side of the gauzy curtains that were draped over the frame of your bed, and pushing Roger onto the bed. He laughed as he landed, scooting back so you could get on as well, letting the curtain fall back to its original place.

The light filtering through the curtains was hazy and soft, painting both you and Roger in amber light. Roger sat so his back was against your pillows and you made your way up his body, straddling his hips. His hands tentatively rested on your thighs, but he looked around your room once more.

“If this wasn’t already obvious, I really like your-- your decor,” Roger’s voice faltered as you took off your shirt, leaving you only in your bra.

You smiled mischievously, “I thought you would, pretty boy.”

***

Then you reached for his shirt’s hem, pulling it over his head. It left his waves a bit of a mess, so you combed your fingers through his hair. He hummed and closed his eyes as you did. When you were done, you threaded your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and leaned in for another kiss. The two of you already had a rhythm of push and pull that made it easy to get lost in the kiss. Your free hand smoothed over the tan skin of Roger’s torso, sliding across his pecs and down to his waist, and you felt goosebumps erupt over his skin, smiling into the kiss.

Roger’s hands moved from your thighs, up your torso to your breasts, feeling your nipples harden through your bra and when you moaned as Roger thumbed them, he smiled as well. Your hands went down to Roger’s waistband and you unbuttoned his jeans, pulling down the zipper and starting to shift them down his body. But his hand over one of yours stopped you and you both pulled back from the kiss.

“Can I… eat you out first?” his request wasn’t what you were expecting, but the look of desire in his eyes and the slout pout of his lips sent a bolt of heat to your core and you nodded quickly, switching places with him.

He did take off his pants, tossing them aside, left only in his boxer-briefs. You could see his hard-on, but he was focused on you. Roger unbuttoned and unzipped your shorts, slower than you had his, and pushed them down your legs with your underwear.

Spreading your legs gently, Roger laid between them, turning his head to kiss up the inner thigh of your left leg. His mouth pressed wet kisses into the skin, making your tummy flip and just when he got to the top of that thigh, he switched to the other. Once he was done with both, he pressed kisses over your slit before dragging his tongue up through your folds. You let out a shaky breath as his tongue pressed on your clit, and you tangled your fingers in the hair at the crown of his head.

Roger formed his mouth around your clit and sucked softly, making you moan lowly. He pressed a kiss to your clit then looked up to you with wide eyes and asked, “Is that good?”

The way he asked wasn’t condescending like he already knew the answer, but more eager like he wanted to make sure it was.

So you hummed and nodded, “Yes, Roger, you’re so good, keep going.”

His mouth returned to your clit and he swirled his tongue around it, making you gasp out, “Oh-- yes, Roger, just like that, fuck.”

The praise made him even more set on making you feel good, so he brought a finger to your entrance, and pushed it in slowly. His mouth didn’t slow on your clit, but he was searching with his finger to find your g-spot, knowing he did when your legs twitched. Roger slipped in another finger with the first, immediately working on your g-spot and the feeling was so strong and so good that it was almost too much and your legs tried to close around him.

But Roger just used his free arm to hold you in place. He kept the same rhythm with his fingers and mouth and the pleasure within you just grew and grew. You could feel the tension in your lower stomach tightening with every brush of his fingers inside of you and every circle of his tongue on your clit.

“Oh, I’m close, Roger, fuck,” you managed to get out and Roger moaned against you, making your breathing uneven. “You’re such-- such a, fuck, a good, oh, such a good boy.”

Roger whined against you and you immediately came, the vibrations spreading hot pleasure all over your body as your back arched and you moaned loudly, tightening your grip in Roger’s hair. He kept going, wanting to make you feel as good as possible, partly because he couldn’t believe how hot it was to see you like that.

You were breathing like you had run a mile, but slowly coming down and you loosened your hold on Roger’s hair, combing through it again. Roger’s hum on your clit made you jump a little so you touched the side of his face to get him to stop; he propped himself on his elbows to look at you.

With a playful smileful you asked, “Did you like that, pretty boy?”

He just looked at you confusedly, so you explained, “Well you’re grinding into the mattress so I thought it must’ve been good.”

Roger’s eyes widened as he realized what he had been doing. He stopped, sitting up quickly.

“It’s okay. No need to be embarrassed,” you told him, sitting up and running a thumb over his pink cheek. “I’m glad you felt good too. Now, why don’t you let me make you feel even better, huh?”

He nodded and swallowed, “Yeah.”

You switched spots with him and leaned down for a kiss, running your tongue into Roger’s parted mouth and getting a taste of yourself in return. Reaching behind you, you undid your bra and took it off. Roger’s hands went to your breasts and you bit his lip when he pinched your nipples, moaning together.

You kissed from his lips to his jaw then down his neck, nipping again on his pulse point and where his neck met his shoulder. As you made your way down his chest, you pressed soft kisses basically wherever you could reach, and Roger squirmed a little underneath you, bright blue eyes watching your actions closely. A few kisses to his tummy and above his waistband and then you took off his underwear with his help, his cock hard and flushed red against his stomach.

Settled on your knees between his legs, and putting one hand on his thigh to steady yourself, you grabbed his dick in your other hand and bent down, pressing kisses along the shaft and then peppering them on the head. Roger moaned softly and you started pumping him and tongued his slit.

You sucked on his head, using your tongue to swirl around it and he groaned, looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes. Pulling off, you pressed a couple more kisses to this head and stroked him, “Such a pretty boy and such a pretty cock.”

Roger’s hips bucked and you hid your smile by going down on him again, not giving him any break. You worked your mouth down along with your hand, building a rhythm that was making precum bead on his head, which you happily sucked off.

Looking up at Roger, you saw that his head was tossed back, eyes closed with his lip between his teeth. You lifted your hand from his thigh up, brushing your thumb along his lower lip so he would let it go. As he did, he looked at you, tilting his head forward. His pupils were blown and he looked desperate as he watched you. You got an idea and a shiver ran across your body. You stuck your first two fingers out and slowly pushed them into his mouth, Roger’s lips immediately closing around them and starting to suck.

Both of you moaned; him around your fingers and you around his cock, making his hips buck again. You took him deeper in your mouth, as deep as you could go, gagging twice around his cock before pulling off again. You let the excess spit in your mouth fall onto his dick and used your hand to spread it around, jerking him off faster than before.

Roger was watching you intently, moaning whenever you twisted your wrist. You licked your lips and swallowed, “Your lips look so good around my fingers, Roger. You’re such a pretty boy, all desperate for me.”

He tried to say something that you could barely make out as “please.”

“Shhh, I got you. Do you wanna be a good boy and come for me?” you asked sweetly, lowering your head back towards his cock.

Roger nodded, keeping your fingers in his mouth, so you brought his head back into your mouth and sucked in time with your hand. You could tell Roger was getting close with the way his hips were shifting and you could feel the vibrations of his moans on your fingers stronger. His thighs were tensing so you pulled your fingers from his mouth, gripping his thigh with your wet fingers, and the slight dig of your nails into his skin set him off as he warned you hoarsely, “I’m gonna come-- fuck.”

He came as you jacked his dick off into your mouth, swallowing his cum as quickly as you could. His high moans of your name ignited a burn between your thighs but you focused on the task at hand. You pulled off, stroking him slowly now and using your tongue to lick any leftover spots of cum off his head. As his breath evened, you pressed one more kiss to his head and then sat up and moved to lay next to him.

***

Roger turned towards you and you kissed him quickly. You tangled one leg between his and started brushing his hair away from his still flushed face. One of his hands rested on your waist, tapping out a simple rhythm.

“You’re-- you’re good at that,” he told you with a little smile.

“Thanks, so are you, pretty boy,” you said, smiling when he flushed. “Are you ever not going to blush when I call you that?”

He looked away, then looked back, an unbelieving laugh escaping him, “Probably not.”

“Good,” you laughed, bringing him in for another kiss.

_

Later, after cleaning up, as the two of you were redressing, Roger remembered that he had yet to see your closet.

“You promised,” he reminded teasingly.

“I remember,” you rolled your eyes, but opened the door and led him in. He stepped in slowly, taking in every inch of very organized racks of clothes, shoes, and accessories with his eyes, which was a lot of inches.

“This closet is literally the size of my living room. My clothes would only fill one rack. Oh, I want this amount of nice clothes,” Roger said wistfully, running his hands across the racks.

“You know, I could help with that, for a small price,” you said with a smile.

“Are you thinking… sex? Because I’m already feeling like your sugar baby with the coat immediately turning into us hooking up,” Roger said and you could not tell if he was joking.

A look of amused shock took over your face as your eyes went wide and your jaw dropped, “I was thinking more like you keep helping me with my own shopping so I focus on finding the best things instead of buying everything in the store, thank you very much.”

“Oh,” Roger said with a sheepish smile.

“And excuse you, ‘immediately turning into us hooking up?’ it’s not like I jumped you in the store!” you said, pushing his shoulder.

“Well, you kind of did jump me,” he countered, stepping in front of you and placing his hands on your waist. You scoffed, not touching him. So he took your hands and put them on his shoulders, placing his back on your waist. You pretended to be mad and looked away, not making any move to separate yourself from him.

Roger leaned closer, only a few inches from your face, “I was gonna say that I wouldn't mind being your sugar baby, it’s a pretty sweet deal.”

“Shut up,” you said with a laugh, looking at him, and he did. “It’s a sweet deal for you because you get stuff and sex. I can get sex from anyone, the only payment worth it from you is your sense of style.”

“Well then I’ll happily pay with that,” Roger nodded. He smiled and you rolled your eyes at his absurdity, but let him press his lips to yours in a kiss that made up for it.

★★★

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#so they hook up instead of sleeping together bc I couldn't do 11k I just couldn't #anyway sub!rog is the best and I had so much fun writing him #hope y'all enjoy!!!! #queen #roger taylor #fic #oneshot #the best things ain't free #queenmylovely #smut #roger taylor x reader #queen x reader #roger meddows taylor #roger meddows taylor x reader #rog #sub!rog

[bohemiansweede]

Birthday Party

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Fanfic

Pairing Roger Taylor & Reader

Warnings 🔞 unprotected sex

A/N Rogers POV Please like and reblog or leave a comment

Thanks

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