Your Fic, This Boy, Is So Good!! Could You Do A Part 2 With Smut?

Before The Lift (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

A Prequel To Lift Confessions

A/N: okay WOW. First of all, thank you so much to everyone who noted my last fic! I was shocked from all of the positivity I received! As a thank you, I wrote a prequel to it! You can read either first, it doesn’t exactly matter. You can even skip over this, if you want. Like always, comments, requests, and ideas are always appreciated!

Summary: Two years before you and Roger Taylor are stuck in a lift together and your lost friendship is found, your friendship with Roger had to be lost in the first place.

(This can be read as BoRhap!Roger or real Roger, idc)

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol/intoxication, Smoking, Breakups, Fighting, Vomiting, Mentions of sex (but not smut), and Suggested Domestic Abuse (WOW what a long list. (I apologize in advance if I missed anything)

This fic is fluffy af but it turns angsty REALLY fast. I’d rate this fic between a T and an M

In 1974, a usually barren pub in downtown London was nearly filled to the brim with people, most of them with the intention of just being in the same room as the geniuses performing that cold Saturday evening.

Those geniuses were none other than Brian May, John Deacon, Freddie Mercury, and Roger Taylor.

Queen.

These four boys were about to make it big, so it only made sense that this small pub was crawling with crazy fans and starstruck young adults who would kill for a smile from Brian, a point from Freddie, a nod of acknowledgement from John, or a wink from Roger. Honestly, you could see the appeal.

Anyone with a right mind could see the appeal.

The guys on stage were attractive, and it was only expected that these fans would come drop to their knees and worship the musicians as if they were Gods.  

How such a big band like Queen got into such a small pub on a usually dead night, you didn’t know. But what you did know was that the pub owner was probably rolling in a pile of pound sterling in his office right now due to the spectacular turnout.

None of that exactly mattered to you, though; you had the best seat in the house– with a perfectly good view of Roger.

Despite being in a relationship with one of your friend’s cousins, you liked Roger.

A lot.

You and him had a special bond since the moment you two met. You met at one of their band practices when you and Brian reunited after university. He brought you along to meet his band members and needless to say, you and Roger just clicked.

“There was a lot less practice being done that day, and a lot more flirting,” as you remember Brian putting it.

Despite this minor “setback” Brian brought you along more and more. It then just became the norm.

Often times, during practice breaks when the boys would go out for a sandwich or a coffee, you would stay behind with Roger and listen to him play the drums for you.

He even let you play the drums one day. You weren’t very good at it, but you did it, nonetheless.

“You have to be a very special lady to be able to play these bad boys,”

You smiled to yourself at the memory. You honestly weren’t even paying attention to the music anymore. You just watched your boys move and perform they way they always did.

Effortlessly.

Gracefully.

Perfectly.

After the last cord for the Seven Seas Of Rhye stopped echoing through the pub, the crowd erupted into cheers, and enthusiastic girls in the front waving to whichever band member they wanted to grab the attention from and be with for the rest of the night… and nearly all of them wanted Roger.

Despite this, you remained calm, and showed your appreciation to the band by whistling, and clapping. Roger looked over the heads of all the hot and bothered girls trying to get his attention, and he winked at you with a cheeky grin.

You could tell your face was rosy, but that didn’t matter. You felt a little smug when Roger found himself off the stage and all of the girls turning to look at you. You could sense all of the jealousy coarsing through their veins, and you loved every second of it.

Joke’s on you, bitches. I’m his favourite.

It had been roughly an hour after the set, and the boys had retreated to the maintenance room until some of the crowd in the pub gave up on waiting for them to emerge from hiding, and soon disbanded.

You were at the back of the pub, unplugging and collecting all of the cords on stage after putting Brian’s guitar and John’s bass away safely.

“Hello, Pretty Lady,” a voice cooed to you as you bent down to peel up small x’s of tape put on the stage. Even during smaller sets like this, Freddie thought it was important to determine where everyone stood; even if he’d move wherever he wanted just moments after the set began. You look over your shoulder, and brand the same grin the voice had on his face.

“Hey you! You had a great set tonight!” “Well, it must have been that lovely good-luck hug you gave me earlier.” You rolled your eyes and straightened your posture, rolling the tape into a ball and playfully throwing it at Roger’s chest.

“Dumbass. You know luck isn’t real.”

“Now how is that possible? I met you.”

“Touché, Taylor.” This sassy blond could capture your heart so easily and have you wrapped around his finger in seconds. Something told you he knew that. And he loved it.

“Well, Lovely, since you’re working awfully hard, I’m gonna buy you a drink. We can unwind.”

“Have you checked in the mirror lately, Pretty Boy? I’m not the one sweating from all the hard work.” Roger smirked. He enjoyed your sense of humour, especially when it could vaguely have a double, more erotic meaning.

“Besides, I’m still cleaning things up. You go, have a drink, flirt with a gal who looks like you, try and take her home.” Roger’s grin weakened when you said that, but you didn’t notice. You were turned back around, peeling up more tape and searching for the ball you threw at the drummer.

“I’ll just be at the bar. I’ll be sure to save a seat for you, Doll. Don’t think a drink won’t be there waiting for you.” You smiled to yourself, and after throwing the ball of tape away, and placing the cords away with the band’s instruments, you met Roger at the bar.

Sure enough, a glass of amber liquid was waiting in the empty spot next to him.  

“Something clearly isn’t right, here.” You sat down next to Roger, picking up the glass and swirling the drink around, the ice tapping the inside of the glass’ walls.

“I thought pretty girls had their drinks paid for by others,” you teased.

“And that’s what happened.”

“I’m calling you a girl, Roger,“ you retorted. "And I’m calling you pretty, y/n.”

You smiled rather shyly, and Roger happily raised his drink towards you. You clinked glasses before sucking the drinks down rather quickly. No slower than it was to place your glasses back onto the bar, Roger had already knocked on the bench, the bartender moving to prepare more drinks for the both of you.

Not even an hour later, you were four drinks in, and Roger ordered one more for you, as per request. He was sipping at his eighth glass of brandy. At least, you thought it was his eighth.

Or… was it his eleventh?

His cheeks were very rosy, so it might have even been more. You expected the bartender to cut Roger off at some point, but that never happened.

Again, things like this didn’t matter. What mattered was that Roger kept sliding the bartender bills, and he slid Roger drinks in return.

The both of you had finished discussing a funny situation regarding John the other day when the band was packing for their trip.

“Speaking of, do you guys even ‘ave any song ideas for this album?”

“Fred wants to call it 'A Night At The Opera’,” Roger explained, examining the floating ice in his cup.

“He explained it to Ray as 'an album anyone can enjoy’.” Roger quoted Freddie as a sports announcer would have.

“How thoughtful of you boys,” you mused teasingly, your eyelids heavy and your cheeks as rosy as Roger’s.

“Yeah. I got a song I want on the album. I was telling you about it a few days ago.”

“I’m pretty sure when you mean an album for everyone, guys who wanna fuck their cars isn’t on the list, Roger,” you slurred his name, and laughed at your comment.

“It’s a metaphor, y/n!”

“I beg to differ. You really enjoy that car of yours,” you scrunched your nose. “Is that why the back seat has a stain on it?!”

Roger looked horrified. “John wanted ice cream and he dropped his vanilla cone on the seat and it won’t wash out!”

You laughed loudly, a few loners sitting at the bar turning to look at you in mild annoyance. “I’m only teasing!”

Your fifth and final drink of the night was slid over to you by the bartender, and you picked the glass up.

“To your final night 'n greater London?” Roger tapped his nearly empty glass against yours with a soft smile on his face.

“To my final night in greater London.”

“May you not leave me here alone for too long.”

You took a sip of your drink and set it down. Roger was just watching you move, and when he was drunk like this, he never shied away from being obvious, or confident.

In fact, that’s how you often realized he was drunk. His confidence was out of this world. Roger was really good at holding his liquor. He was also the kind of guy who didn’t look or act drunk when in reality he’d be absolutely wasted.

You, on the other hand, were the very opposite.

You turned to look at him, and you opened your mouth to say something, but Freddie interrupted your conversation.

You were somewhat glad because you had no idea what you were going to say.  

“Hello, Lovies. How’s the night?” He grinned his signature smile at you, and you returned it.

“Pretty good Fred, and yours?”

“Oh just wonderful, my dear y/n.” Freddie then turned to Roger.

“Roger, Love, there’s a young lady over there who wishes to speak with you.” He gestured to his right with his head, and sure enough, a woman was there.

She was seated at the bar, her posture a lot straighter than yours. Impulsively, you shifted uncomfortably and straightened your own back.

Despite this, she was the epitome of beautiful, and not even good posture, you thought, could even place you anywhere near her on a “beautiful scale”.

She had very long legs, and long wavy hair. It was a rich chocolate colour, and you impulsively reached up to touch your own bland hair. You envied this woman even more.

She turned to look over at you three and she twiddled her dainty hand at Roger, clearly batting her long eyelashes over her big brown eyes. She smiled a perfect grin and your stomach churned violently.

This woman had everything Roger was into. Judging by all of the women he’s brought along to band practices and parties, you could confirm that this was his type.

She got off the bar stool, and slowly made her way towards your group. Before she got too close, you leaned into Roger, who was too busy looking at this other woman he was going to most likely pursue. “Im'a go out for a cigarette. Make good of tonight, Roger.”

You patted his shoulder, and glumly stumbled out of the bar.

You knew you shouldn’t have been upset. You were in a relationship. Roger wasn’t. It wasn’t fair of you to want to control his love life when you had yours… somewhat under control.

You shakily raised your lighter up to your cigarette, but the ignition never lasted long enough to let you light the cancer stick. “Fuck’s sake,” you mumbled, sitting down on the curb in defeat.

You sat there for a while, taking in the scent of the humid London night. The street was completely dead.

You wanted to lie down in the middle of the road and fall asleep. You scrunched your face up.

Was that really a drunk thought? You very rarely got drunk, but when you did, you doing stupid shit definitely ensued.

“Mind if I join you?” A gentle voice asked you from behind. You glanced over your shoulder and shrugged, looking back down at your unlit cigarette.

Roger found himself seated next to you, and he retrieved his own lighter from his Jean pocket. He ignited it, and you lit the cigarette. You immediately took a deep breath, and exhaled with instability.

Roger opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but he decided against it. He didn’t want to make you more upset.

“I thought you went to chase after that girl,” you mumbled before putting the cigarette back between your lips.  

“Nah. She chased after me, and I got away.” You shook your head, the smile on your face nearly invisible.

“What, she have bad breath or somethin’?”

“You have no idea, y/n,” Roger said helplessly. You laughed, smoke leaving your mouth in short puffs.

“It was like a garlic factory!” He tried his very hardest to keep you smiling and laughing.

And it worked.

He liked how pretty you looked when you were laughing.

“So you came out to be with good ol’ y/n.”

“Wouldn’t wanna be with anyone else tonight.” The night got quiet after your giggles subsided. You took a nice long inhale from your cigarette, and blew it out slowly.

A ring of smoke danced over the heads of you and Roger, and you offered the rolled object to him.

As he inhaled from the cigarette, you looked down at your stretched out legs.

“… d'you really have to leave, Rog?” He simply nodded before blowing the smoke into the air.

“Unfortunately.”

“Will you miss me?” He laughed halfheartedly– a simple quick exhale from the nose. He stared out into the street, shaking his head.

“Is that even a question?” You took your cigarette back and drew in another breath of the poison.

As you breathed out, you felt an arm gently slide around you. Roger kept his hand at your waist, and that’s where it intended to stay.

“Why would you even think I wouldn’t miss you?”

“I just don’t want you forgettin’ about your special girly at home,” you explained in a hushed tone. This seemed to be an appropriate time to be a little quiet.

Roger rested his head on your shoulder, his other hand reaching out to take your cigarette for one more drag.

“You mean so much to me. Forgetting you will be impossible.”

You took the cigarette from Roger’s hand and finished it off, snuffing the butt by squishing it into the sidewalk next to you.

“Just don’t want you runnin’ off with a prettier girl.” You slurred, smiling sadly.

“Trust me, everyone in Surrey probably looks like everyone here in GL.” Roger’s free hand reached over to grab one of yours.

“Besides, you’re the prettiest girl I know.” The laugh from your mouth sounded stale.

“Very funny, Rog.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“We’re drunk, for one,” you counted on your free hand.

“Two, I am, and will always probably just be a roadie. To you, n’ the rest of the band.”

Roger lifted his head off your shoulder and looked at you.

“Three, you’re famous. You can have any girl. You can choose them like a little kid picking a candy bar off the shelf.”

You looked down at your feet, shutting your eyes and dropping your hand.

“I know now is the worst time to have this conversation. We’re both very drunk. But… ’M not good enough for you. You can do so much better.”

You felt a hand cup the side of your face, and turn your head to the left. Roger slid his fingers into your hair, and he pulled you in for a kiss.

You didn’t move for a moment, your eyebrows lowering in confusion. But as soon as Roger pushed closer, and caressed your cheek with his thumb, you found yourself closing your eyes and kissing him back.

You were enjoying the kiss much more than you should have been. Roger pulled away too soon, and you found your lips chasing after his.

You caught yourself doing this and Roger smiled, his fingers combing through your hair.

“Even if it were possible, I don’t want to do better. I want you.”

You found yourself kissing him again, but it was you who made the move. Your hands reached up to grab Roger’s face, and his hands moved down to grip your hips.

You tilted his head to the side by pulling his hair, and Roger parted his lips to gasp. This sound of surprise was muffled by your tongue which you slipped into his mouth.

Roger placed a hand on your back, and another at the side of your neck before pulling you flush against his chest.

You could feel his heart drumming against your chest at an insanely quick pace, as did Roger.

But then he felt yours stop.

“Y/n…?!”

You and Roger broke the kiss and turned to the voice, your hands dropping to the drummer’s shoulders.

“Steven…?!” Your boyfriend of nearly two years marched towards you and Roger.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with her?!” His face was burning hot.

He was angry he found his girlfriend sucking face with a famous drummer, and he was humiliated that he was unaware of whatever this was, and how long it was going on for.

“Steven, t’s not what it looks like!”

“Get in the car, y/n!”

You got off of Roger and guarded the blond with your arms outstretched. “If you hurt him Steven, I swear to God, I’ll kill you!” Your warning was slurred, and didn’t sound too threatening.

“Get in the goddamn fucking car y/n!”

“You don’t talk to her like that!” Roger exclaimed angrily.

Steven grabbed your arm tightly and moved you away from Roger, his fist grabbing the front of Roger’s shirt. “I can speak to her however I want, asshole!”

Steven looked over at you, teeth clenched. “Get. In. The. Car!” He shoved you away, and you followed his orders.

Steven turned his attention back to Roger, who tried to shove him away. Despite this, Steven didn’t budge.

“How long have you two been seeing each other, huh?!” When Roger didn’t respond, Steven shook him around like he was a rag doll.

“Answer me!”

“I’m not even seeing her! We just kissed!” Hot tears rolled down Roger’s cheeks, his lip quivering.

He hoped to God your relationship with Steven wasn’t like this. Roger would have sold his soul to make sure you were safe, and happy.

Something Steven wouldn’t have ever done.

“You touch her again, Taylor, and I will fuck up your face so badly that you’d be unrecognizable to your own mother. Do you understand?!” Roger nodded rapidly, and Steven shoved him to the ground.

“Fuck you,” he huffed at your boyfriend.

Steven turned around, and kicked Roger in the side. The blond turned over and threw up all over the sidewalk, sobbing quietly to himself.

“No. Fuck you.”

                                                          “Get the fuck out of here!” You were shrieking at Steven, throwing various things of his at him with the intention of hurting him.

“Why?! So you can invite him over to the house I pay for?! And fuck him in our bed that I bought us?!”

“You are so childish, do you understand that, Steve?!” Steven pulled a suitcase out of your shared closet, and zipped it open.

“Why don’t you two go have sex in the shower I renovated for us?!” He started violently shoving his clothes into the case, moving to leave the bedroom and go to the bathroom.

“Hell, why don’t you just have his kids?! Marry him! Wake him up every Sunday morning with breakfast and coffee and a kiss!” As he rummaged your bathroom cabinet for his things, you shouted back at him. “Well maybe I will!”

Steven picked up a brush, and threw it at you. You shielded your face with your arms, and you shouted when the brush came in contact with your arm. Hard. Steven then shoved you against the door and walked back into the bedroom with his pills and toothbrush.

“I never want to fucking see you again!”

“See if I care, y/n! That pussy can have my sloppy seconds! I can just call up the tens of girls lined up waiting for me! Can finally get between the legs of a woman who’ll actually enjoy what I give them!”

Your eyes were burning as more tears flooded your waterline. “Get. Out!” You picked up a vase of flowers off your bedside table and followed Steven out the bedroom door with it. He struggled a little with getting his suitcase out the front door, but you threw the vase, and it shattered against the closed door.

You screamed, and sunk to the floor, broken glass all around you. All of the photos of you and Steven had either been turned downward or broken. The living room, bedroom and bathroom had been flipped upside down, and you were left by yourself in this massive house.

You curled up into a tight ball, and cried violently until you nearly fell asleep on the floor.

You crawled up the stairs helplessly, and climbed into bed, not even worrying about changing your clothes. You didn’t even care. As soon as your body relaxed into the mattress, you started crying again. This time, you successfully cried yourself to sleep.

The next morning, you knew you were supposed to say good bye to the boys before they took off for the next handful of months. They were to be in complete isolation so they could record parts of their new album.

Unfortunately, just opening your eyes killed your head. You tossed your comforter over your head, and began crying yet again.

You didn’t have Steven, and you didn’t even have Roger.

For the first time in your entire life, you had never felt so alone.

                                                    A/A/N: Wow so I’m sorry if this isn’t as good as my first one, but I still really like it. Enjoy, and don’t be afraid to leave your feedback!

@benders-diamond-earring​ @radiob-l-a-hblah​ @bohemiansweede​ @demo-wise​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​

Killer Queen - Queen (Isolated Vocals)

fuck. fuck.

Guess who may or may not have written another entire chapter for The Couple Next Door and will be posting it tomorrow?

This girl

UPDATE: Guess who may or may not have written a frick ton more of the next chapter and needs a day or so to revise and edit?

This girl

Freddie: So we’re still squabbling over that fact, that’s what he’s trying to say Roger: rawr

(x)

I’ve been sleeping on Deaky so much and I’d like personally apologize

Hearing the beginning of “Ice Ice Baby” is the sonic equivalent of opening a cookie tin and finding sewing supplies

Phelps; “You know Jack Kelso?”

Biggs; “He’s an insurance investigator over at California Fire and Life. Our paths cross from time to time. For some reason, seeing you makes me think of him.”

same anon that loved "this boy"

i loved "baby it's you" as well, such a cute story :) can't wait to read more beatles stuff from you !! i hope you write about ringo soon!

Thank you!!!!! I'm gonna he posting a McBeardy fic in about 30 minutes, and after I get a few George fics out, some Ringo WILL be coming! Please stay tuned, and thank you for the support!! <3

“I pray that you hear these words before it’s too late.” - Joseph