This Girl

The Couple Next Door VI (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part Five Here

A/N: Y’all, I know this was kinda filler and may not make a whole bunch of sense bc I was half asleep while writing this, so I apologize if this is shit. I legit thought I was going somewhere with this, but I think I’ll find some more inspiration after posting this part.

Again, I am so sorry.

Summary: Y/n comes down with a case of Baby Fever; She and Roger talk a little more about their “agreement”.

(Whichever Roger you want, real or Borhap. Whatever flies your kite.)

WARNINGS: Swearing most likely, Slow burn, mentions of sex, etc. I’m sorry if I forgot some.

This chapter will be brought back down to a T, but read at your own risk.

When you woke up from your deep sleep the following morning, you weren't expecting Roger to be by your side.

 And when you turned to glance over your shoulder, you were in no way shocked to find the space next to you empty. 

 "At least he didn't show me the door as soon as he woke up," you mumbled to yourself mid-yawn. You stretched your body out, and relaxed again. You nearly fell back to sleep, but you knew you had to get up. 

 The sun's rays flooded Roger's bedroom through the open window, making the off-white walls appear brighter than they actually were. 

 You were happy to see the clouds from the previous day dispersed and London was finally getting the sunshine it deserved. 

 Eventually, after a long while of you trying to convince yourself to get up, you tossed the blankets to the side to start the day, only to find, through your bleary eyes, that you were missing all of your clothes. 

 You had no problem with this, considering the previous night's circumstances, but you found it strange that you used to hate sleeping naked, though you had the most refreshing sleep in your entire life doing it.

 You didn't dwell on the thought much longer. You climbed out of bed and walked around the room, searching for your pyjamas, or underwear, or something to leave the bedroom in. 

 Then you stopped. 

 "I don't need fucking clothes." Roger was probably at practice. And even if he weren't, it's not like he hadn't seen all of you before, or was never gonna see all of you again. 

 You rolled your eyes at yourself, turned on your heel, and moved towards the bedroom door. 

 You caught sight of yourself in the mirror over Roger's dresser for a split second, and as soon as you reached for the doorknob, you rushed back to the mirror to actually get a good look at yourself. 

 From the jawline down to your hipbones, dark, painful-looking bruises and prominent bite marks were harshly pressed into the skin of your torso. 

 You had hickeys and marks on your neck, collarbone, breasts, navel, you name it.

 You hissed in pain as you tilted your head back and touched a particularly large blue-violet bruise at the side of your throat. Your flesh was tender, but, much like how you reacted when you woke up nude, you were okay with it. 

 You started thinking of the night before, and you squeezed your legs shut, though it was somewhat painful to do. 

You realized just then that the hickeys did, in fact, pass below your torso. 

 You shut your eyes and sighed heavily. 

You didn't even want to bother looking at the damage down there. 

 "As long as my foundation can cover the ones on my neck," you concluded to yourself before finally exiting the bedroom. 

 After showering and making your way downstairs to prepare a cup of coffee, you were pleased to see half a pot was already brewed and ready for you.

 You were very glad to see things between you and Roger hadn't changed a bit.

 After coffee, you decided to do some cleaning. It was your day off, though you really felt like you needed to be productive. 

 You started by doing laundry. This included yours and Roger's bedsheets, the throw blankets on your sofa and living room chair, and all of yours and Roger's dirty clothes. 

 While those were in the washer, you decided to hoover all the carpets and mats, and after that, dusting. 

 You switched the laundry over to the dryer, and started a new wash. You were basically done everything else, and it was only noon. 

 You wondered if there was something to do outside, so to pique your curiosity, out the door you went. 

 You noticed an unoccupied flowerbed by the front window, though gardening wasn't your thing. You continued on.

 Your yard's grass was constantly cut by your landlady's husband, you believed his name was Issac Welch; so you didn't have to worry about that. 

 You stood in your driveway completely defeated, and at a loss for something to do. 

 "Yoohoo, good afternoon, Y/n!" You heard a melodic call from a woman to your left. In your peripherals, you could see Bethany Lester, a young woman, maybe a little older than you, twiddle her fingers at you in excitement. 

 You didn't know whether to panic, or to roll your eyes. You were forced to meet seven more of your neighbours after having dinner with the Garrison's, and she just so happened to be one of them. 

She was kind, but a little too bubbly for your liking.

 Despite your annoyance, you thought it'd be more civil and appropriate to approach her and strike a conversation, rather than ignore her; even though you wanted so badly to just walk back inside and shut the door and not talk to anyone for the rest of the day. 

 You turned your head in Bethany's direction and smiled. "Hello, Beth!" You walked to her place, a few doors down, where she sat in a yellow sundress on the concrete with her little boy, Raymond. 

 He was playing with chalk and writing out letters and numbers, backwards and forwards, and in no exact order. 

“ Say hi to Y/n, sweetie," She requested from her son, who turned his head to you, smiled, and said, "Hello! I can draw a doggie! Wanna see?!" 

 "Sure!" You encouraged. Raymond excitedly got up from his spot and ran to the front door. He returned with a bucket containing many more pieces of chalk, most of which were different colours. 

 "How've you been, recently?" Bethany asked as she looked away from her son as he began drawing his masterpiece. 

"Still getting used to the new place?" 

 "Yeah, it's still a little weird. But kind people like you are helping me and Roger settle in quite nicely." 

Bethany smiled at your comment, and nodded her head. 

 "We like making newcomers feel welcome. We're all like one big happy family here, us neighbours," she laughed airily. 

 You smiled tightly, and laughed along with her. You found yourself slipping into a situation in which plans would probably be made before you ended the conversation, though you definitely did not want to make plans. 

 "Well, that's awfully nice of you." 

 Raymond shoved his hand into the chalk bucket, and violently moved his arm around until he pulled out, to your surprise, the exact colour he was looking for, before going back to drawing his dog. 

 Your brief interruption didn't stop Bethany from talking more, unfortunately. 

 "How are you and Roger, anyways? I always see you two out and about the complex. You two really do make a good couple." 

 You smiled warmly at Bethany's words, your face growing hot as you, once again, remembered last night. 

 "He was really great..." you paused for a second, and realized what you'd just said, eyes wide in horror. 

 "Is. He is really great. He's fine." You took a deep breath. "Sorry. I just... I get all nervous thinking about him."

 "Still in the 'Honeymoon Phase’?" Bethany guessed aloud. 

 "Been together five years. I think we're well past the ‘Honeymoon Phase’."

 Raymond stood to his feet again, and turned to look at you. You smiled at him as he approached you, and pulled on your sleeve. 

"I'm finished my doggie, Y/n!" 

 "Well, what are you waiting for?! Show me!" 

 You let Raymond pull you to the area of concrete he was working on, and he pointed to the round balloon-looking animal proudly. 

 You could tell it was a dog. He added some pretty identifiable features like a long tail, floppy ears, and a comedic tongue.

 You sat down cross legged in front of the drawing, and began complimenting it and going into full depth about how moving the drawing was to you, like how an art critic would speak about another's work.

 Raymond, although he probably had no idea what you were talking about, smiled and gushed and laughed about everything you were saying. 

 You found this utterly adorable, and told him that if you had a bajillion pounds, you would spend every single one of them on one of his drawings if he ever became an artist.

 Raymond thanked you endlessly for your kindness until he picked up another piece of chalk and gave it to you. 

"Can you draw, Y/n?" 

 "Well, I can certainly try, but I don't know if my skill will ever compare to yours!" 

You tried to draw a cat, as badly as you could, and afterwards tried to claim it as "the best doggie I can draw". Raymond just found this hilarious, and his little giggles were contagious. 

You found yourself in a laughing fit, as well. 

 "You're really good with kids, Y/n." 

 "I like to think I am," you answered with a smile as you drew a stick person with spiky hair. 

 "Have you and Roger thought about having kids?" You looked up from your drawing to Bethany. 

"Funny you say that. The Garrisons asked the same thing." She shrugged innocently. 

"You just... seem like good mother material. And he, good father material." You laughed out loud at that. 

You didn't see it for yourself. 

"Thanks, Beth, but I don't know if Roger even wants to have children. We're probably not even cut out for the job." 

 "... You've never spoken to him about it before?" 

 You shook your head. "No, not exactly." 

 Bethany frowned a little. "Cole and I had Raymond only two years after we started dating. I was fresh out of college. Your age, I bet." 

 You looked over at Raymond, who was sticking his tongue out in pure concentration as he tried to draw a perfect circle. You didn't know if you could imagine someone, especially a little kid, sharing your features. 

 "It's worth it, you know," You turned to look at your neighbour again. "Having kids, I mean. Believe me, it's tiring, and lots of hard work, but going to bed knowing you have someone else to love just..."

 Bethany sighed happily. 

"It'll make you feel really good about where you are in life." 

 The conversation you had over at the Garrisons' was more from a paternal point of view, so hearing this from an actual mother roughly your age was actually sort of... helpful. 

 "I... I think I may talk to him. Tonight, actually. About this whole... baby thing." 

"You should. I thought I wanted to wait until Cole and I were married, but things changed and now look at us: Engaged and with a three year old boy who means the world to us." 

 You smiled sadly at that. 

 It hurt because this was something you knew you may have wanted. 

 And it hurt even more because this was something you knew you were never going to have. 

 "Hey, Bird," you heard a familiar, startling voice behind you, and you turned to see, as you'd guessed, Roger, who held a hand out to pull you back to your feet. 

 "You're... You're back from practice early," you commented in a flustered tone, taking his hand anyways and letting him help you up. 

 "We figured we'd cut things short today, go home to our girlies." Your skin rose with goosebumps, and you blushed when Roger cupped your face and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. 

 "Hey, Beth, nice seeing you again," Roger said after pulling away from you, to which you puffed out a sigh of relief, though he slid an arm around your waist all too soon, and you felt your face burning again.

 "It's nice seeing you too, Roger."

 "Hi Roger!" Raymond waved enthusiastically to the drummer, and he returned the greeting by going over, getting down on his knees, and high-fiving the kid. 

 Raymond offered to show Roger the drawing of the dog he did, and you watched as Roger picked up a piece of chalk out of nowhere and started adding to the picture. 

 Your nervous stare melted away and transformed into one of admiration as you watched Roger bond with Raymond. 

 Bethany got to her feet, and approached you, her eyes on her son as he offered blue chalk to Roger, who took it gratefully and drew a flower. 

 ...

 At least you think it was a flower. 

 "Still having doubts about being parent material?" Bethany asked rhetorically, nodding towards the sight before you. 

 You knew all of this was a charade, but... 

 Watching Roger behave like this, with a child, had some sort of effect on you.

 And you knew you needed to talk to Roger about this problem sooner than later, because you really didn't want the whole neighbourhood waiting on you two for engagement news or pregnancy announcements that were clearly not coming. 

_____________________________

 You and Roger eventually returned home after saying good bye to Raymond and Bethany. The both of you stepped into the house, shut the door, and that's when the both of you noticed how quiet the atmosphere was. 

 Roger was looking at you in a shy manner, and your face warmed up as he mumbled a quiet "Hi, Y/n."

 "Hey, Rogie," you breathed back softly. He smiled a little, and toed his shoes off. You followed suit.

 "How uh... how were you this morning?" He asked, frowning a little afterwards. "... I'm sorry I didn't wake you up. I just... I didn't wanna bother you."

 "It's okay," you spoke as gently as he did. You didn't know why you were talking so quietly, but you both just silently agreed that it was necessary at that moment. 

 "I had a good sleep." 

 "Well... that's good. Um... I did too." 

 "Good." 

 "Yeah." 

 Silence took over again, and Roger, leaning against the front door, looked around the hallway to find something other than you to look at. He didn't like staring, but it's all he wanted to do when you were around. 

 You, leaning against the wall adjacent to Roger, was looking around the room with the same intentions. 

 After finding nothing else to really look at, Roger just decided to interact with you. 

 He pushed himself off his spot against the door, and slowly moved towards you. His arms slid around your body in a warm, comforting manner. His embrace was welcoming, and you found yourself giving in to his affection. 

 His lips kindly pecked your forehead like how he did outside, and you smiled a little at the gesture. He kissed your forehead again, and then your cheek. 

 Roger knew if he didn't pull away, he would just end up taking you to bed like he did the night before, but he didn't want you to feel like he was just using you for sex. 

As much as he wanted to keep up with the physical affection, he knew he had to separate from you at some point. 

 You looked up at him, and as he pulled away, it was as if you were gravitating towards him. You wanted his touch to linger for as long as possible, so your body moved with his hands as they fell to his side. 

 You cleared your throat awkwardly when you took notice of how close you'd actually gotten to Roger, and you expanded the space between the both of you by stepping back. 

"... Are you hungry?" 

 Roger only nodded to your question, and you wordlessly moved to the kitchen to find something to make for lunch. 

 Roger followed along, and watched as you started searching the cupboards for something to eat. 

 You picked up and put down many cans, pretending to read them before setting them back on their rightful shelves. Your mind was too preoccupied with the societal expectations this complex had, and that the stress was finally catching up to you. 

 Eventually, after picking up the same can of vegetable soup for the seventh time in a row, Roger made his way over, put the can back for you, and closed the cupboard. 

 He waited silently for you to start talking, and you felt defeated. 

"Roger, they're expecting us to have a baby."

 "I know." 

 "And they want us to get married." 

 "I know." 

 You frowned.

You thought back to how you and Roger behaved with Raymond.

Like you thought then, it was everything you may have actually wanted, but you couldn't have. 

And it hurt the more you repeated that in your head. 

 "... What if this wasn't such a good idea?" You asked Roger, eyes casted down at the clean marble countertops you wish you'd grown so accustomed to the previous couple of weeks living there. 

 "Hey, hey," Roger's hand squeezed your shoulder, and you looked up at him with sad eyes. 

 "You wanted this place, Y/n, and we sacrificed so much to get it for you!" 

 "... But it wasn't my idea to pretend we're a couple just for a house, Roger." 

 The glimmer of hope in Roger's eyes, like a candlewick, burnt out when you said that. 

 Was it really his fault you two were in this situation? 

 You sighed. "We agreed at the very beginning of this arrangement that things weren't going to change. We were going to avoid the neighbours at all costs, and live here for as long as we could as nothing but friends." 

 The more you spoke, the more deflated Roger felt. 

 So that's how you felt about him. 

 Nothing more than a friend. 

 "We can keep this arrangement going, as well as the uh..." you cleared your throat. "You know..." 

You gestured between the both of you and Roger nodded slowly. 

 He was rather relieved that was still on. You had a rockin' body, and you definitely knew how to use it. 

 ".. But I don't know how much longer we will survive here if we don't shut up." 

 "Yeah." Roger tried to interrupt the silence between voices to make things a little less awkward, and suspenseful. "Yeah, no, okay. Okay, I got it. No more talking." He frowned. 

 "You need to stop talking too, y'know," he said quietly, in the kindest tone he could. "You tend to panic and say random shit and that may not be good for us, either." 

 You nodded. "Been trying to work on that. It's hard to avoid these people!" 

 "This morning, Charles was standing outside and immediately started a conversation with me. It was almost like he was waiting for me." 

 You shivered unpleasantly. "That's pretty creepy," you mumbled in a funny voice, all of a sudden. It was one you used in high school all the time when Roger was turned down by a girl; and, believe it or not, happened a lot more often than one would think. 

 "Tell me about it," Roger responded through a giggle, his eyes began to shine like they had been when you'd first walked into the kitchen, ecstatic you decided to lighten the mood with your little side comments. 

You offered him a pleasant smile, and reached up for the cupboard's handle again to properly search for something to cook, but Roger closed it again with the palm of his hand. 

 "... I really hope you know that... everything I said last night... about you, and how pretty you are..." 

 You looked from one blue eye to the other in wait. You would have hated how many times Roger paused during a conversation, but... it made your heart soar. 

 "Everything was true."

 And that is when your heart skipped a beat. 

 "I know, Rogie," was all you said in response, reaching up and kissing his cheek before moving past him to look into the other cupboards for lunch-potential foods.

 Roger was grinning from the innocent peck you gave him, though you were unaware of it because his back was turned to you. 

 But you had a feeling that's just what he was doing. 

 Though you were happy Roger was feeling a little better, you still had this dark feeling hanging over you.

 If you wanted a domestic life with a husband and children, you would have to leave Roger, and this house. 

 But on the other hand, this was your home; Roger was your home. And to stay with him, you would have to give up your dreams of being a caring mother, and a loving wife. 

 You leaned your head sadly against the cupboard door. 

 You silently wondered if there even was a way you could have everything you wanted.

_____________________________

A/A/N: After editing a little, I don’t think this part is horrible, but it’s not the best. Hopefully the next chapter will be good enough for us to forget about this one.

PERMENANT TAG LIST

@culturefiendtrashqueen​

FIC TAGLIST

@luvborhap

@amy-brooklyn99

@scarsout

@kimmietea​

@ohtheseboysilove​

@demo-wise​

@suavishowell​

@bohemianahoy​

@pippin248​

@maisielou

@hardyshoe​

Like, are you kidding? Are you, is this a joke?

If this aint me

Credits to getmemercury on instagram.

Miranda Family 2017! Adding a new addition to the family, Vanessa is pregnant with baby number 2. She couldn’t get any more beautiful and she is glowing oh very much!

I would like to apologize for my lack of posting, as well. Quarantine, university prep, and trying to maintain relationships right now have been absolutely kicking my ass and my inspiration to write is dry af rn. Part 9 of TCND is in development, and will be on your way soon, and I am just so happy you are all being very patient with me. I love y'all.

Gentle Reminder

That not all of the writers/artists/creators that you follow actually have more free time than normal due to Quarantines and Stay at Home directives. 

Some of them are doctors, nurses, grocery store employees, emergency personnel etc, etc, etc. Some of them may, in fact, have less time than normal as they step up to the communities needs and may also, with the worry that comes from that, not be in a very good headspace afterwards to work on anything.

And sure, not everyone is still working right now. Some of them suddenly are stuck at home 24/7 with family, including small little’s that are just happy to have their loved ones home and are demanding extra time. Littles demand a lot of extra time and constant attention. 

(from experience, even my teenager does. there are days when i can’t go five minutes without being interrupted. i love her dearly, but constant interruptions does make it hard to word - its worse for someone with a toddler or more than one kid - though that also can depend on the kid/kids)

Some of your creators may have anxieties and depression etc, that this forced stay at home is only making worse. it’s hard to create anything when you’re in such a state…

Some of them might also be sick or otherwise affected right now. We might never know.

Demanding that your favorite creator update something because you now assume they have all the time in the world to do so is not cool - and actually stress inducing. 

Hoping is one thing, demanding… is kind of rude.

This has not happened to me (Thank you guys, for being so cool :D I love you all!) but I’ve seen other creators getting hit with this, and how upset they’re getting. 

So please, please, please, do not make assumptions on your favorite creators current situation. 

Please be understanding. 

We’re still here, we’re still making stuff. Promise!

Stay safe!

my parents aren’t teaching me life lessons.

#i need some adults to TEACH ME SHIT ABOUT LIFE

Lift Confessions II (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

A/N: I am really going HAM on this series, guys. I love it so much tbh. the amount of traffic I’ve accumulated the last few days on my blog has me SHOOK. I’m so glad I’m bringing entertainment to well-deserved people! Love y’all!

Summary: It’s Friday. You just need to survive one whole work day before the night is all yours and Roger’s.

(Again, BoRhap or real Roger, whatever tickles your peaches)

WARNINGS: Swearing, Vaguely Mature Subject Matter 

I’d rate this big boy a T.

 It was definitely Friday.

 And it was definitely seven o'clock.

 A.M.

 You watched as the red numbers on your alarm clock changed every infinity.

 Twelve hours until dinner.

 Two hours until work.

 You felt as if you’d been lying awake in your bed for years. You barely had any sleep the night before, taking to the alarm clock as a distraction from your thoughts.

 7:02, and your mind still raced with your heart.

 It had only been two days since the situation regarding you, a lift, and a certain blond beauty occurred. Despite this, those days dragged on almost as if each day were a lifetime.

 You’d had those days off, and you only did what you were doing now; staring at that damned alarm clock.

 You didn’t know if you were excited or scared of this dinner with Roger. On one hand, you didn’t know how well the night would go considering your relationship with him had been transparent for a whole two years…

 But you couldn’t help but think back to his confession in the lift. One you’d forgotten about until just this morning.

 “My Doll, I have been in love with you since the moment I set eyes on you, and I never stopped.”

 You shut your eyes and sighed. You remembered his voice being so gentle, and how the pause after his confession hung in the air in a very pleasant way.

 You remembered how his bright blue eyes carved effortlessly into your heart and soul, and how his soft listings of the little domestic and romantic things he wanted to do with you had your chest nearly bursting with every butterfly that could have coexisted in your being at once.

 You opened your eyes and frowned.

 7:04.

 You wished you’d responded to what Roger had said.

 You could think of a million and one things to tell him if you were back in that situation.

 In the lift.

 7:05.

 And a million and two things to tell him.

                                                                         "Higher.“

 "Fred, if this is gonna be like Bohemian Rhapsody, I may just have to leave–" 

"Roger, Darling, you’re doing great here. Your falsetto is fantastic, but it just doesn’t seem to want to match tones.”

 Roger sighed, pressing the palm of his right hand against his headphones. With his other hand, he spun his finger in a counter clockwise motion.

 "Replay,“ he requested with a yawn. Roger really needed his morning coffee.

 Freddie replayed the audio, and Roger waited for his falsetto.

 In that moment, you ran through the doors of the console room the band was in, five cups of coffee and tea hot and ready for your coworkers and yourself.

 "Sorry, the lineup was long, and they kept screwing up Roger’s order. As always.”

 John leaned back in his swivel chair so he could see you past Freddie.

 "You… seriously made sure they got his order right? That’s not… usual for you.“

 You shrugged, setting the trays of coffee on the side table before removing your raincoat. "Figured I’d be nice today.”

 You heard the famous Roger Taylor Falsetto from the studio.

 "Still trying to perfect that part?“ You asked, taking Brian’s chair next to Freddie since he moved to retrieve his tea.

 "Yeah. He insisted this song needed this one falsetto, but it’s not looking too good.”

 You nodded at Brian’s response, and glanced down at the empty case the song’s tape was in. It was labelled “Somebody To Love.”

 You pursed your lips, and looked up at Roger through the last window, only to see him looking back at you. You smiled the tiniest bit, and he returned it…

 That is… until his attention was brought back to Freddie, who was scolding him for completely missing his time to hit his notes.

 A break for Roger was called, and he left the studio. He knelt down next to your seat to talk to you, but he could see John glaring at him in harsh suspicion from over your shoulder.

 Neither he, Freddie, nor Brian were aware of what happened the few nights before.

 You found the silence the smallest bit awkward, so after clearing your throat, you smiled a little. “So I uh… I got you your coffee. For real this time. One and a half milk, one and a half sugar.”

 "… Really?“ Roger got to his feet, and moved to the coffee table to grab his drink.

 "Thought I should. You’re all working very hard. You deserve it.”

 Roger took a sip of his coffee and hummed gently. “T'is a shame. I was just starting to enjoy the sweetness of two milk and two sugar.”

 You just rolled your eyes in response, a smile at your lips. "You’re welcome, Blondie.”

 From the other side of the room, Brian watched closely at the unusual encounter. Seeing a dinosaur in the middle of London in this time period would have been more believable to see than you and Roger…

 "Are they flirting?“ John asked Brian in a hushed tone. He’d read his mind, but the lanky guitarist only answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

 Freddie was more amused by yours and Roger’s engagement, mindfully leaning against the console board with his arms crossed over his chest, and a smirk on his lips.

 Despite his desperate want to call you both out for your strange behaviour, he’d much prefer watching John and Brian go mad trying to figure the situation out.

 "If I may,” John cleared his throat apprehensively, eyes narrowed. 

“But Roger, you haven’t made one snide remark to y/n, and she’s already been here for a whole three minutes." 

He paused. "Not that I’m wanting you both to fight.”

 Roger just shrugged, and proceeded to hand you your order. This was the first time he didn’t try to purposely spill a hot drink on you in two years, and it was a very relieving feeling.

 "Change of heart ‘suppose.“

 After the boys’ coffee break, they found themselves back in the recording studio. You sat in the console room, and gave little suggestions to them every once in a while on how to improve the song.

 Despite this, you knew that Somebody To Love was already a masterpiece. 

 "Can we start just before that falsetto, y/n?” Roger asked over the mic. You just nodded, and rewound the tape.

 "Got no feel, I got no rhythm,“ you nodded your head along to Freddie’s vocals, and the already recorded instruments blasting through the speakers of both rooms.

 You weren’t prepared to hear a wail of a falsetto coming from Roger. You snapped your head up to look at the band in the recording studio, Roger beaming at you in success.

 You rose to your feet and cheered for the blond as the song continued on.

 You knew for certain this take really counted.

 The long repetition of the band members pleading the listeners to "find me somebody to love” eventually arrived in the song.

 Whether this was purely a coincidence or not, Roger held eye contact with you the entire time he sang, a smile never able to leave his mouth every time he said that “L” word.

 And you just found that fact utterly adorable and innocent.

 It was true, then.

 He really did forgive you.

 And he really did love you.

 "Lunch time!“ Brian announced with an excited clap of his hands. "Roger, it’s your turn to choose.”

 Roger was sitting at the console board, staring at his reflection in the window separating the room you five were in, and the studio.

 "I may have to skip out on lunch today, lads. I really need to practice some other songs for this album.“

 While Freddie was obliged to leave, Brian and John found this really doubtful. You were staying behind to pack up the instruments the band weren’t going to use for the rest of the recording that day.

 Why would someone insist on staying behind to be near an enemy? None of it was making sense.

 Brian knew you. He’d known you since university. He just didn’t understand why you weren’t mouthing Roger off, or making an excuse to leave him behind.

 Despite this, Freddie found himself out, and Brian and John followed.

 You were lying on the couch behind Roger, reading a book. You weren’t really paying attention to it, though.

 Especially not when you heard Roger’s swivel chair squeak. "Hey, Doll,” Roger greeted as he sat on the armrest of the couch by your feet.

 You glanced up over the pages of your book, bending your legs so Roger could slip into the now vacant seat. You stretched your legs back out, and Roger rested his hand on one of your kneecaps.

 "Hi, Loverboy,“ you acknowledged back, dipping your head back behind the book.

 "Whatcha readin’?”

 You shook your head. “Nothin’ interesting.”

 You closed the book and dropped it on the floor, resting your arms over your stomach. “Whatcha practicin’?” You nodded your head towards the recording studio.

 Roger gave you the same answer you did. 

 "Nothin’ interesting.“

 Your lips twitched into a smile, and you closed your eyes.

 Roger just watched you, his thumb rubbing circles over your kneecap in a slow, repetitive pattern.

 "It’s so weird… being like this with you again.”

 "Tell me about it, Doll.“

 The only thing that really could be heard was the analog clock on the wall. You opened your eyes and examined the time.

 1:34.

 Five hours and twenty six minutes until dinner.

 Three hours and twenty six minutes until the end of the work day. 

 "Why don’t I teach you some drumming?”

 You moved your gaze from the second hand on the clock to Roger, whose eyes were wide and hopeful.

 "What is this, 1974?“

 "It just may be. For this lunch. If you want.”

 You turned to face the live room’s tempting door handle.

 "… only for a few minutes. I still need to pack up for everyone else.“

 Roger beamed, and you lifted your legs to set him free. He immediately grabbed your hand, and pulled you into the studio, shutting the door behind you rather quickly.

 "Okay okay,” Roger took a seat in his drumming stool, and turned to you, patting his thigh innocently with his hand.

 "A special seat for a special lady.“

 "In your lap? You call that special?”

 "Well, not me, but some women might.“

 You smiled, and shook your head. "Gross.”

 Despite this, you seated yourself in Roger’s lap, and he spun the both of you around so you were behind the drums.

 "Here,“ he gave you his drumsticks from his back pocket, and put them in your hands.

 He went to cup his larger hands over yours, and you teasingly mumbled "gee, at least take me to dinner first.”

 Roger shifted over so he could look at your face. “You mean to tell me I have to buy you dinner to hold your hand, but lap-sitting is completely fine?”

 You shrugged, your uncontrollable grin resulting in a smile from Roger.

 You both turned back to the drums, and Roger started naming the different types of drums on the kit.

 Of course, you knew everything he told you. He’d told you before. You’d dealt with his drums and put them away for the longest time. Before…

 "–And here’s the snare. T’s my favourite because its name is fun to say.“

 You just let Roger talk. You missed hearing his voice speak with such passion.

 You missed doing things like this with him.

 You missed him.

 How blind were you in the past not to catch on to how into you Roger was?

 How into you he is now.

  You opened your mouth to speak, but Roger was still going on about the drum kit.

 You didn’t cut him off.

 But you let him help you play.

 He helped you play both simple and complicated songs, his arms guiding yours to the correct drums and cymbals at the right time.

 At one point, Roger let go of your arms, and you kept to the notes he’d taught you moments before.

 "You’re doin’ well, Doll.” He watched the drumsticks tap the cymbals over your shoulder, his hands innocently resting at your waist.

 You repeated the same notes for a minute or so before you felt Roger’s arms slide around your body into a gentle embrace.

 "… Rog?“

 "I’m sorry, y/n. About the last few years. How I’ve treated you…”

 He rested his head on your shoulder, and you reached up to comb his hair with your fingers.

 "Hey, hey now. It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.“

 Although Roger found some relief in your words, he tightened his arms around you. You just sighed, and leaned back, turning your head to kiss his temple.

 "It was justified, and all is forgiven, Hun. Let’s put these last two years behind us. Start over, yeah?”

 Roger turned his head to face you, and after looking at you for a moment or so, he nodded his head.

 "Thank you, Doll.“ One of his arms unravelled from around your waist, and he let his own fingers glide through your hair.

 You shut your eyes, and basked in the short amount of time Roger gave you this attention.

 When you opened your eyes, Roger’s gaze was obviously fixated on your lips. You lifted your head up a little, and his eyes flicked up to meet yours, gently, and kindly smiling.

 "Y'know… you have nice lips.”

 Your cheeks glowed, and you shyly looked away. Roger laughed– a short exhale out his nostrils.

 "Don’t make me kiss you, y/n.“ You turned back to him, and the both of you’d found yourselves moving ever so slightly closer to each other.

 Before he got too close, you pressed the tips of your fingers to his mouth, and smiled innocently.

 "Whatever you say, Blondie.”

 Roger’s mouth fell open in shock after you pulled your hand away.

 "I wasn’t being serious!“

 "No, Meddows. I’m doing what you asked,” you’d never looked so smug in your life, or sounded so proud.

 You believe this was the first time you’d put the Roger Taylor in his place.

 You glanced up at the clock, and proceeded to do a double take. “Shit!”

 You jumped out of Roger’s lap, and started running around the studio, gathering cords, and wrapping them up frantically.

 "What?!“

 "We spent that whole hour drumming and talking! The boys will be back any moment!”

 Roger wordlessly got to his feet and helped you clean up. You were thankful for that. You just never verbally expressed it.

 When Freddie, John, and Brian all returned from lunch, not only was the studio empty of any unnecessary instruments, but your relationship with Roger, if you could even believe it, had been strengthened even further after the confession on the lift.

 As much as it bummed you out, you and Roger didn’t kiss in the studio.

 Were you close when Roger was apologizing?

 Absolutely.

 It was something that plagued your mind for the rest of the day.

 The clock in the console room struck five, and you took a deep breath.

 Two hours until dinner.

 Brian entered the console room from the studio, his Red Special in hand. He was spending the last few hours practicing his solos for other songs on the album they were working on, and John was also in there with him at some point.

 "That was a great practice, everyone!“ Freddie announced, a painfully wide grin on his face.

 "Why don’t we all go for drinks tonight? My treat.”

 You looked over at Roger with mild worry, shrugging on your raincoat slowly.

 "I can’t tonight, Fred,“ Roger said apologetically. "I’ve plans I can’t cancel.” Freddie nodded in understanding.

 "What about you, y/n?“ John asked.

 "I have a date, actually.” At that, the room went quiet.

 This was new.

 Brian raised an eyebrow. “You… you’ve met someone?”

 You swallowed. You didn’t think this was going to be such a big deal. You’ve dated around after your breakup with Steven. Why is it different now?

 "Old friend,“ you explained. "Our friendship’s been kinda vacant. We wanted to reconnect. See what’d happen, you know?”

 You swear on your life that you saw a hint of jealousy in Roger’s eyes, but it soon faded away when he realized the mistake he made.

 Fucking dumbass, I was talking about you!

 You shook your head a little in mild frustration, but smiled once more.

 "Best be going, actually. Date’s at seven. Have a good night everyone!“

 You heard a collective "good bye"s from Fred, Brian, and John, but an isolated "have fun tonight, y/n,” from Roger.

 You shut the door to the studio, and made your way to the lift. As soon as the doors of the lift closed, you audibly groaned.

 "Fucking moron.“

 This little shit really just got jealous over himself.

 Maybe all those months of faking hatred towards one another was really getting to him.

 The lift, since it was broken, was very slow going down the elevator shaft. It gave you time to think.

 After this date, you hoped to come clean with Freddie, Brian, and John about the state of your relationship with Roger.

 Messages wouldn’t be underlying, nor would your unusual behaviour towards the drummer.

 This situation was very complicated the more you thought about it, but you really hoped a fun night out with Roger would be enough to solve everything. 

 And it would.

                                                                          A/A/N: This was very long so I apologize for the wait. I also wanna thank y’all for being patient. As always, comments, and feedback are always welcome!

@radiob-l-a-hblah @bohemiansweede @demo-wise @culturefiendtrashqueen @luvborhap

The Couple Next Door III (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part II Here

A/N: Okay, yes, I may or may not have written this in less than a day, and no, I’m not the happiest with it. Then again, I’m not exactly always happy with what I produce. As long as my works entertain others, that’s all that matters.

But anywho, I wrote this part of the series in 3rd person Omniscient for Roger because we need to know what’s going inside that tiny head of his.

Don’t forget to leave notes, show your support and interest in my pieces by sending in a reply. All support and feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

Summary: Roger and you spend dinner at the Garrisons, and Roger does some thinking.

(Again, Borhap! or Canon! Rog, whatever tickles your peaches)

WARNINGS: Swearing, slow burn, mentions of sex (nO sMuT), mentions of drugs, alcohol, overthinking(?) idk this part made me a tiny bit sad)

I’m rating this a T, but the subject matter is a little heavier than my previous parts of this fic. I would advise you to proceed with caution.

Roger stepped out of the shower, staring at his muted reflection in the foggy mirror before reaching for a towel. He took his time towel-drying his hair, and by the time he’d dried himself completely off, the steam in the bathroom dissipated just enough for him to be able to make out his facial features in that same mirror.

 At this point he reached for the blow dryer on the right side of the counter. After fully removing the vapour off the mirror with it, he used it to completely dry his hair. 

 His fingers ran through his blond strands carefully as he tried to make sure he didn’t leave anything wet. 

 As much as Roger liked his hair, he’d rather have some girl pulling on it than him. 

 But that was besides the point. 

 Roger set down the blow dryer after a while, and just stared at himself in the mirror, his hands on either side of the vanity. 

 What the fuck was he doing? 

 He decided to fake a relationship with you, (on a limb, I may add) for the benefits of having a nice place to live. 

 It sucked that his days of sleeping around were coming to an end, though he didn’t exactly mind it.

In a way, Roger loved you. But it was like… a weird love. Almost like a “you-are-my-best-friend-and-I-would-die-for-you-but-if-you-totally-wanted-to-kiss-me-I-wouldn’t-think-twice-about-reciprocating” kind of love. 

 He’d felt like this towards you since high school, but you were with someone, and he forced his feelings down by sleeping with so many women he probably couldn’t remember any of their names if he tried. 

Eventually, with all the drugs and alcohol he consumed, and all the skirts he’d been under for the last five years, that other, almost forbidden feeling towards you, was gone. 

 Well… Until now. 

 "Rog, you good in there?“ You called through the bathroom door. The sound of your voice almost had his heart jump up into his throat. He circled a towel around his waist, and opened the door. 

 You looked him up and down, and Roger could swear he saw your cheeks glow. "Damn, you’re looking good, Rogie." 

 He choked out a strained laugh, averting his eyes to the small droplets of water on his feet. "Wel-uh.. th-thanks, um… y/n." 

 You rolled your eyes, a dopey smile on your face. "And you thought I took those compliments seriously.” You squeezed past a nearly heartbroken Roger in the threshold of the door, and you reached into the medicine cabinet for your toothbrush.

“All I need to do after this is put on my lipstick, and you’re not even dressed! We’re supposed to be over there in five minutes!" 

 This had Roger disappearing immediately into the second guest room on the left, the one you decided would be his room after he forfeited the master bedroom over to you. 

 You just shook your head before shoving your tooth brush into your mouth.  

_______________________________

"Just… be calm." 

 "I am calm. You’re the one that’s not calm." 

 "Why would I tell you to be calm if I’m not?" 

Roger was about to respond just before Anna opened the door. Roger and you immediately slapped painfully wide grins on your faces, and greeted the older woman with a soft hello as you stepped inside. 

 "Something smells good,” Roger complimented as he removed his jacket.   "Thank you, Roger. It’s almost ready. I’d give it another fifteen minutes, and then we’ll dine.“

 Roger nodded to Anna with a smile and turned towards you. He helped you take your jacket off, and you watched as he placed the coats on an empty hook on the wall. 

 He faced you again, and winked. He reached down and grabbed your hand, giving it a warm squeeze before you were both led further into the Garrison’s home. 

 Anna encouraged you both to take a seat on the sofa while she continued watching the food. 

 "Charlie kept an eye on the casserole while I grabbed the door. He’ll be out in just a minute, loves." 

 "Take your time,” you called to her as she made a beeline to the kitchen, leaving Roger and you alone. 

 Roger pursed his lips, twirling his thumbs in the sudden, and awkward silence. He took this time to examine the tidy, well-furnished home. 

 He began silently counting all of the framed photographs on the wall. 

He came across one of Anna and Charles. It seemed to have been an older one compared to some of the others. They were in wedding attire, Roger guessed, from the thirties or forties, the newlyweds brandishing bright, and ecstatic grins. 

He couldn’t help but smile back at the photograph. 

He didn’t feel as if it were a necessity to get married, but he wished he would find pure elation being with you. 

 It didn’t matter if he could never properly marry you; if he discovered you were never in love with him in the first place… or even if things did turn out that way; he just saw you. No one else. 

It had to be you. 

Roger’s eyes flitted to the right when Charles returned from the kitchen. 

 "Sorry to keep you kids waiting,“ he said sincerely, sitting down in his living room chair. 

” ’S no rush, Mr. Garrison,“ Roger assured him. 

No one really decided to say anything after that. It was silent for a few second too long, and Charles laughed a little. 

"Geez, are you guys uncomfortable? You both look tense. You’re good here. You can relax. Been a long day for you two–" 

"Charlie?" 

"Oop– Excuse me," 

Charles pardoned himself from your presence to see what his wife needed. 

You sighed heavily, and Roger’s head began to spin. 

 How could this look more natural…? 

 ”… hey um…“ Roger mumbled gently, successfully grabbing your attention, and you raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

Roger licked his lips, his hand slowly lifting and moving to hover just over your knee. His eyes refused to look back into your own.

You caught sight of his hand in your peripherals, and after looking downwards, you glanced back up at Roger. 

"Is uh… is it okay If I…?” 

You simply nodded, and Roger sighed in relief, his hand lowering onto your leg. You shifted the smallest bit closer to him, and you smiled a little at how embarrassed he was to be touching you like he would with any other girl.

You placed your hand affectionately over top of his when he started rubbing circles on your pant leg with his thumb. 

Your cheeks were a pretty shade of pink, and Roger’s were, too. 

Charles returned from the kitchen just then. “She "lost her glasses”. They were right on her face and neither of us even noticed until she saw herself in the window!“ 

You and Roger laughed along with Charles in regards to his wife’s antics. 

"But enough about her, I see her every day. Tell me more about you. How long have you had this one for, Roger?" 

The drummer smiled at you, taking a moment to himself to search your entire face for an imperfection; maybe a loose eyebrow hair, some smeared makeup, lipstick on your teeth, or even an ugly zit he could make fun of you for later. But there was nothing wrong with you. 

He couldn’t find one thing on your entire face he didn’t like. 

"I wish I could tell you I’ve had her forever, Charles…" 

You looked into his eyes. There was something… not quite right. 

It was the way he was looking at you.

He’d never looked at you like that before. 

 Not with that much adoration; and never, did you ever think, you’d describe Roger’s tone as "dripping with affection”. At least, not when he spoke of you. 

“It’s been about five years.” Roger concluded. “Best years of my life." 

"And the fact you’re still going strong makes me very happy,” Charles mused, his eyes shining with joy. 

 "Things’ll get even better. Wait until you’re married and have children!“

That statement had your blood run ice cold, and you could swear Roger’s eye twitched at the word.

Children.

"I remember when my wife told me she was pregnant. It was one of the greatest days in my life, though their actual births and my wedding day are easily the top two." 

 You opened your mouth, but no words would come out. You cleared your throat and tried again. "Uhm…” Charles turned your way. “We never really um…” you took a deep breath and tried again. “Well, we’ve never really sat down and really… discussed whether or not we even want kids.”

“No um… we just… can’t see ourselves as parents. To a baby. With our face. It just seems so… surreal.”

“Roger,” The blond swallowed, and nodded to Charles in acknowledgement. 

“Becoming a father is so rewarding. Wait ‘till you have a baby girl or a little boy, and you hold 'em in your arms for the first time. All that doubt will just wash away. Anna and I were so confident in our parenting skills, we had four more little ones!”

You couldn’t imagine having more than just one child, let alone five, or any of Roger’s, for that matter. The concept was so foreign to you, especially when it’s suggested that the father of these kids is the man who purposely puts the toilet roll on backwards because, and only because, it pisses you off.

Anna called the three of you to the table, cutting the conversation short, though you were relieved to get your mind off how hilariously ridiculous it sounded that you were sort of expected to give birth to Roger Meddows Taylor’s offspring.

He, on the other hand, couldn’t shake the idea. He spent the whole dinner on auto-pilot, trying to imagine how a child could share both his and your features. 

He watched you a lot during dessert, trying to decide his favourite part of your face, something that he would be happy for your hypothetical child with him to be graced with.

But much like earlier, he realized he loved your face so much, he couldn’t make an ultimate decision.

Much like you, Roger thought the concept was close to impossible, as well.

He didn’t want to come down with a “Baby Fever”, so he took the next chance he could to talk about something distracting. The subject was averted to music, and Roger’s drumming and things like that.

He was just glad his subconscious wasn’t focused anymore about which room in the condo would hypothetically be the baby’s.

_______________________________

“Thank you for inviting us over, Anna. That was the best casserole I’ve had in my life. Just don’t tell my mother.” Anna laughed at your joke, and teasingly assured you she wouldn’t.

Roger, after helping you put your jacket back on, held the door open for you, and after saying your final good byes to both Anna and Charles, the both of you were left alone in the cool summer night.

Your slow walk down the drive with Roger was very quiet. You two didn’t say anything.

You both took slow, careful steps towards your new home, two pairs of eyes searching the sky for constellations.

Roger’s hands were stuffed into his jean pockets, and you had your arms crossed over your chest.

He expected you to start rambling about how much of a disaster the entire visit was, and how there was certainly not enough casserole for left overs as Anna suspected, but you said nothing.

So he said nothing.

Roger climbed the stairs up to your front door, and unlocked it, wordlessly holding it open for you. You just nodded in thanks, and stepped inside, Roger close behind.

That’s where you both disbanded. You went right upstairs, leaving Roger alone in the dark front corridor. He just sighed, and locked the door as his eyes fixed to the blackness of the room.

He went straight to the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. There were a few beer bottles in the fridge, and he reached for one, twisting the cap off with his shirt before taking a swig.

He shed his jacket and tossed it on the couch before sitting in the chair on the other side of the living room, and propping his feet up on the ottoman.

Upstairs, he could hear the tub’s faucet running. You were showering.

Taking another sip of his beer, Roger decided to wait until you were out of the shower and in bed before he went upstairs. 

 "… Rog?“

Roger’s eyes snapped open and he sat up with a start, gaze shooting to the hand on his arm.

Your hand.

Roger exhaled, and rubbed his tired eyes, his brain registering that you’d turned some of the lights on.

"Scared the bloody ‘ell outta me, y/n,” He slurred groggily, rubbing his forehead and combing his hair back with his fingers.

“I’m so sorry! I went to knock on your door and you weren’t in there!" 

 "I was waitin’ here for you t’ go t’ bed…” he must have fallen asleep, you thought as you rubbed the side of his arm.

“Well I was checking in on you to let you know the bathroom was free if you needed in." 

” ’M fine, Love. Thanks, though.“ He removed his feet from the ottoman, and rubbed the back of his neck, a number of empty beer bottles falling from his lap and onto the carpet below.

”… I swear I only 'member grabbin’ one.“ 

”… You go upstairs, okay? I’ll put you to bed.“ You bent down and started picking up the bottles.

Roger, who was on his feet, and turning the corner, stopped to watch you. He counted every bottle you picked up off the floor.

The higher the number, the guiltier he felt.

By the time you picked up five, Roger was already gone, upstairs and changing into some nighttime clothes.

He blindly chose his clothes, the combination being a pair of checkered pants and a Rolling Stones t-shirt.

He didn’t even bother trying to make an effort to get up and brush his teeth. He just climbed into bed and shut his eyes. 

But as promised, you walked into his room, and sat on his bed.

”… Roger, you know I didn’t hear the faucet running.“ 

 That’s how easily convincing you were to him: Seconds later Roger was in the blinding luminescent light of the bathroom, you sitting behind him on the edge of the bathtub as he drunkenly brushed his teeth.

"Spit, rinse, and I’ll meet you in the room.” You rubbed his back gently before leaving him alone in the room. 

Roger removed the brush from his mouth, and stared at himself in the mirror, toothpaste froth lining his lips and dripping down his chin in an almost comedic manner. 

Roger thought the froth kind of looked like facial hair. He even giggled a little at the idea of him maybe one day having a beard.

But then his smile disappeared, and he wiped his mouth off. Although he remembered only drinking one, he knew why he drank so much more. 

 Those thoughts about you were returning. The more time he spent with you, the more giddy he’d feel, and the more close he’d want to get. 

Roger wondered how he used to be able to teasingly slap your ass and make sexual jokes with you all the time without feeling at the very least flustered with his own actions.

He did it in front of the band all the time when you were around, but it was like he was in high school again.

He always had the urge to kiss you at least once before he died. The constant suppression over the last few years buried that urge six feet under, but it seemed the suppression wasn’t working anymore.

What if, Roger thought, this would be different? He technically had no reason to suppress any feelings he had towards you; well, maybe except for dignity purposes, but that was all.

What if luck and pre-destiny existed, and his chance to be with you just so happened to be now, under these awkward circumstances that would overall result in a blissful future with nothing but happiness…

But why would someone like her want to be with someone like you?

With the depressing thought hanging over him like an obedient rain cloud, he shut the bathroom light off, and moped to his room, where you sat in wait. 

You helped Roger climb into bed, and you tucked him in, kissing his forehead like a child.

“If you need me in the night, you know where I am, Blondie.”

Roger nodded, and mumbled his good nights to you before rolling over.

When his bedroom door closed, Roger opened his eyes despite not being able to see anything in the room. 

He blinked. 

 At the beginning of this commitment, pretending to be with you seemed like a piece of cake to him… 

 … But Roger didn’t know how much longer it would be until his behaviour towards you wasn’t pretend anymore.

_______________________________

A/A/N: Wow, This is a lot longer than I expected it to be, but I’m glad this part is done. I think I may write in Roger’s perspective more in this fic because he’s got lots of shit running through his mind, clearly. What are y’all’s opinions though? 

Anywho, enjoy this, I’m gonna go find something to inspire me for the next chapter.

PERMENANT TAGLIST:

@culturefiendtrashqueen​

FIC TAG LIST:

@amy-brooklyn99​ @scarsout​ @kimmietea​ @ohtheseboysilove​ @demo-wise​ @suavishowell​ @bohemianahoy​