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blondecarfucker · 5 years

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Bed of Roses (1988 Special)

Roger Taylor x Reader BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: so this is not even a real chapter??? i mean, it doesn't have a number - it's really a reallll epilogue, you really get to know what happen in the eleven years that follow the end of the story. this wasn't really on my outline - i just kept thinking about the characters cause theyre SO CUTE and DESERVE THE BEST and im an absolute softie so i couldnt help but write this. its probably a bit messy cause im tired atm but im happy i wrote this and i want to share it with you guys already. im curious to know what you guys think about it! - also, just making it clear, there's no story for a sequel, so there's no sequel coming. just so you guys know. thanks again for stopping by and reading my story and being AMAZING. im a bit rusty i guess so sorry about the size of the chapter

Words: around 2.8k

1988

You heard Roger hitting the drums as you opened the studio door.

"Hey, Y/N", Freddie said, coming to hug you. "It's your man recording", he told you, and you nodded.

"I see", you answer, and Jim comes closer to Freddie and says hello to you. You really like the way they feel at ease with each other - it just looks natural. It's been long ever since you saw Freddie so peaceful.

But Roger soon showed up in your field of vision, having just left the recording booth. "Babe, it's so good to see you", he said, hugging you by the waist. "Good seeing you too, Rog. What are you guys recording?, you ask, and Deacy answers.

"It's 'Rain Must Fall', just wrote it with Freddie", he says, as Freddie listens to Roger's recording.

"It's still not right", he says, and Roger sighs. "Be right back", he tells you, going inside the booth.

Now that you're paying attention, you realize it's latin percussion. "This is really nice", you tell Freddie, and he smiles. "Thanks, darling. How's the museum? Did it fall apart after you spent a month away?", he asked, and you laughed.

"Actually, they've been holding up quite nicely", you say, referring to the period you've just spent with them in Montreux. "They're getting used to it, I suppose", and he nods.

You and Roger have been taking turns the last decade on who's gonna spend time along with the other, but now, after you've got your PhD and was promoted to Senior Curator, your job could be done without official office hours, so you've been following Roger around a bit more - which is nice, especially when he's in Montreux, such a calm place you thought about retiring there, in the future.

"And this outfit, too, I love it. You look like such a serious business woman" Jim said, pointing to your tailleur. "I have to look the part, Jim", you shrug, and Brian laughs. "I miss your yellow Chuck Taylors days, Y/N", he says, and you laugh. "These shoes are killing me, so I do, too", you tell him.

"I won't invite you to dance, then", Freddie said, and you frowned. "Please do, Freddie. You know how I love these latin inspired songs of yours", you pouted, and Freddie laughed, extending a hand to you.

You could feel Roger's eyes watching you through the glass as you danced with Freddie. Rain Must Fall reminded you of Cool Cat, and even though the Hot Space days, in 1981 were complicated, it reminded you of an afternoon with Roger on a yacht on Lake Geneva, the two of you drinking mimosas and sunbathing as Montreux glimmed under the Riviera sun.

"God, I hate this fucking song", Roger said, sipping on his mimosa.

"It's not the best", you agreed, and he laughed.

"This fucking album, I swear to God. If it wasn't for you here, I would've dropped this", he said, and you got up to prepare another mimosa for you.

"Don't say that, Rog. You wouldn't drop the band", you said, and he sighed.

"You're right. But I would drop this album, though. This song, even - I didn't take part in anything regarding the production. I just watched, like you watch a car crash", he says, and it's your turn to laugh.

"You're so dramatic", you tell him, mixing the orange juice and the champagne. "But seriously, babe. Do you even like the songs we're making now?", he asks, and you take a sip of your drink.

"I like Under Pressure", you say, and you're happy to see his face lighten up as he laughs. "Of course you do. I'm impressed you didn't ask Bowie for an autograph yet", he said, and you laugh along. "I have to stop myself from fangirling every time he's around, you know. It's pretty hard, but I do my best not to embarass you", you told him, sitting by his side.

His sun kissed skin made his eyes even brighter than usual - like lapis lazuli on bronze.

"Like I try not to embarrass you by looking stupid when we're on one of your fancy dinners?", he asks, hugging you by the side. "Exactly", you told him, pressing a quick kiss on his lips. He tasted like orange.

As you now kept dancing with Freddie, Jim pulled Deacy for a dance too, and eventually everyone was dancing to Roger's percussion. Each had a different level of success, and you were trying to help Brian when Roger finished his part.

It made you happy to have moments like this. After A Kind Of Magic, in 1986, the band was fighting constantly - it made you sad to see such thing. Roger even created a side band, The Cross, and he worked with them for a while before reuniting with Queen for this new album.

You were always a huge fan of his solo work, but you never connected with The Cross - and you felt like he didn't, either. They never really challenged him, and anything only gets better after receiving honest feedback.

But now Freddie wanted to produce again with the rest of the band - as much as they could, non-stop. They wouldn't even tour after this album, The Miracle. You felt like Roger knew exactly why these changes happened, but he didn't share them with you. You didn't really mind - it was not only his privacy, but the privacy of the rest of the band members. The fact that he was trustworthy enough to keep his friend's reasoning behind a polemic decision private only made you love him more.

"Babe", Roger called, walking over to you. You hugged him, his known smell now more refined, cologne mixed with the patchouli and substituting the cigarette smoke - you both quitted smoking, since you heard it could be harmful for little ones.

"The kids are with their nanny, right?" Rog asked you, and you nodded.

It was 1982 when you realized you couldn't keep your breakfast - you vomited every morning, almost religiously, twenty minutes after you ate.

Roger was immediately concerned on the phone - you spent two weeks in Mexico for work, and it was only when Roger spent a weekend there at the end of your trip that he told you not to drink the tap water. So you were both convinced you had some parasite, and Roger took you to a doctor - he liked to spend time with you when you were both in London, even in boring activities, since you still lived in separate flats, always trying to take it slow - even though you felt like a teenager when you had to pack to stay a weekend at your boyfriend's house - and you considered talking to Roger about moving in together again.

The doctor soon realized there were no parasites inside you, but there was a baby - a 3 months old little boy, in fact, as the doctor confirmed after taking you two to the ultrasound room.

You could never forget Roger's face once he understood what the doctor told the two of you. He was going to be a father.

But the realization that you were going to be a mother took a little longer to hit you. It was only when you heard the baby's heartbeat that you really understood what was going on inside you - a baby. Your baby. Roger's baby.

Proof that you were together, proof that you belonged to each other, that you loved each other.

"This is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard", Roger told you, and you smiled in agreement.

Nine months later, Apollo was born.

You agreed on Apollo because you always thought about how Roger reminded you of Apollo, and it did remind you of New York, too - the Apollo Theater was a landmark only a couple dozens streets above the apartment you grew up in.

But Apollo was much more like you than he was like his dad. He inherited his dad's dirty blonde curls, but his eyes were just like yours, and so was his personality - he was very determined, liked to be alone, and a full blown nerd. He taught himself to read when he was four, and now, at age 6, he liked to read The Hobbit by himself.

He didn't speak with an English accent, oddly enough, even though he was raised in London - he spoke water like his dad, but copied your accent in every other word.

Roger would hold him and hug him and always spend time with "his little guy", always telling him how proud he is to be the father of a genius, and Apollo's cheeks would be flushed pink, just like yours did when Roger told you how smart you are.

When Apollo was born, you both agreed to move in together into a big family home, but you filled the walls with artwork and tapestry, and Roger made sure there was always good music playing - it didn't feel like you were abandoning your old selves to become parents; it felt like a natural step.

And for financial reasons - mostly to protect Apollo and to make taxes easier - you and Roger decided to get married. He tried to play the practical part, reaffirming marriage was just a title and the two of you were way beyond that, but you knew, deep down, that he was incredibly happy to get on his knees and propose.

It was a simple ceremony in 1984 - close friends and family under the hawaiian sunset, the Lana'i Island's atmosphere made you feel like you were in a dream. With a simple cotton white dress, you reunited with Roger - in a half open, white cotton button up - in front of a licensed marriage performer, and you became Ms Taylor.

Roger used any excuse to call you Ms Taylor, savoring the name on his tongue just like he did with your lips on honeymoon.

Apollo was 2, and stayed with his grandparents for a week as the two of you enjoyed your honeymoon on paradise. "It's funny how this is like, the millionth time I feel like I'm on honeymoon with you", you tell Roger, and he pouts. "If you consider honeymoon everytime we go somewhere amazing alone and keep fucking like teenagers, then yeah. But this is special. This feels more… I don't know. Official", he said, and you agreed.

And all that young love had a result - you soon found out you got pregnant again after a routine blood test. Roger was, again, the happiest man on Earth.

You felt calmer this time around - a kid and responsibilities didn't ruin your relationship with Roger the first time around, and you were actually pretty good parents.

So when Live Aid came about, you were huge - you enjoyed the many performances, but when Queen was onstage, it felt different. You could remember when, almost fifteen years ago, you saw these guys broke, rehearsing and travelling around in a van.

Now they were here, and in a day filled with performances from stars, they shined the brightest.

You don't know if it was all the emotions you felt watching them, but once you finally got home, the sun about to rise - Apollo long asleep - you sat down to prepare a warm bath for the two of you, but you felt something warm running down your legs. Your water broke.

You and Roger ran to the Hospital, and after a few hours, Artemis was born.

She screamed, not cried, once she first looked at you and Roger, almost annoyed - like she was sad she missed the show.

Artemis was a logical name choice - Apollo's twin in greek mythology - but the kid also got her strong will. She looked just like her father, big, round blue eyes and pink, full lips soon learned to express what she desired and complained when things seemed wrong in her perspective.

At the early age of three and with a reduced vocabulary, she convinced the two of you to get the smallest drum set you could find, and she tried to repeat her fathers movements on it, still too small for her tiny kit, but proud of the loud noises she made, hitting it recklessly.

Roger looked at it as if he was seeing a miracle.

The kids were raised primarily in London, but they spent some time in Montreux, when the band was recording, under their father's care, or on tour when you could stay with them - tour made the kids so confused about their whereabouts that it needed a conjoined effort - but now that the band was recording in London with no plans for long periods away, it was going to be interesting.

Apollo was just getting started in school, and soon it would be Artemis turn. They still had no dimension of their fathers - or their "uncles" - importance, but you and Roger talked about this, waiting for the day you'd have to explain your life for the kids, who you were before you were their parents.

You wondered if Apollo would think back on the time he went to dad's work and he was dressed as a woman - he couldn't recognize Roger when he was Rogerina while recording the video for I Want To Break Free until he took his wig off.

It was a better reaction than John's kids had, screaming in fear of the old, scary and tall lady that tried to pick them up.

The latest video recording was incredibly sweet, actually - it was for The Miracle, the single, and the band was going to be interpreted by 11 year olds. The kid that played Freddie was absolutely brilliant, mimicking all of his signature moves.

But it was the kid that played Roger who stole your heart.

As you watched the tiny Rog rehearse, you couldn't help but imagine Artemis hitting her drums - maybe in a few years, she'd be able to actually play something.

You also thought about Apollo, how he'd look like an even younger version of Roger if he was sitting on the stool, bouncing his curls and pouting in concentration.

You really loved the life you lived now, and when you looked back to all the drama that went between you and Roger so you could get here - two happy, fully realized people; and two great parents - you'd do it all again.

You kept thinking about it as the kid rehearsed Roger's part in the song, until you felt a familiar smell fill the air around you, and an arm snaking around your waist.

"Hello, beautiful stranger. Are you lost?", Roger whispered, his husky voice still able to give you chills.

"I am, actually. I can't find my husband, and I came here just to see him before work", you said.

"How did he get so lucky to have you?", he asks, and you turn around to kiss him.

"Actually, I'm his good luck charm", you say, pulling him closer to you.

He was ready for the shoot, so you felt bad when you broke the kiss and realized you transfered part of your lipstick to his lips.

"Shit, your makeup artist is going to kill me", you say, trying to wipe it away.

"It's fine", he says, kissing you again. "So I'm picking Apollo from school today, right?", he confirmed, and you nodded. It would always amaze you how you found your own level of responsibility, of the feared and dreaded domesticity, without losing the passion you had for each other. Taking it slow.

But now, back in the studio, you said goodbye to everyone, and followed Roger to a limo.

You always had your nights out - nights where you'd stay in a fancy hotel room just for the sake of being together in different ambiances. You two learned from your trip to Paris how it makes you more in love with each other, the new place making you fonder of what you know and love - in your case, Roger.

So when he popped open a bottle of champagne while you undressed, and once you were only in your lingerie, Roger took his own shirt off, knowing to pass it to you - a ritual, really.

You both went out, relaxed and comfortable, and enjoyed the view.

The Thames was below you, and you could see the entire city - if you tried, you could point where the bar you first met was, and Kensington Marked, and the first flat you shared. London was a huge part of your story.

"Let's make a toast", Roger said, and you nodded. "To what?", you asked, but you knew the answer.

You've been together for almost twenty years, now, so it's normal for you to know what to expect from Roger. But it doesn't feel boring - it feels like home.

"Us", he says.

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos @16wiishes @jennycidesstuff @partydulce @melros-e @onevisionliz

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