Latest Posts by all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney - Page 2

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

Find Part Eight Here

A/N: Surprise! I’m briefly back from a year-long Hiatus and I have one chapter for TCND, one for ATU AND a George Harrison one-shot I’m just gonna drop and then probably disappear again for another few months. I’m also finding it even more difficult to write for Roger seeing as I’ve kinda been listening to nothing but The Beatles for the last fifteen months and I really only hear Queen at work, so that’s gotta change. But I am very sorry about the LONG wait. I really do appreciate you guys, and I think you’ve all waited quite long enough to find out what happens next...

Summary: Roger and Y/N spend the morning taking care of Bobby; they talk a little more about the future and come to the conclusion they both want the same thing.

(Let your imagination run free, bc this can be either Canon or Borhap!Roger)

WARNINGS: Swearing is probably a given at this point, self-doubt, mentions/ suggestions of sex (advise you to avoid if you’re under 18), and I usually revise when I’m stoned so there’s probably some typos in here too, sorry.

Rated T for Teen-- (I feel like a video game rating smh)

Bobby was crying again.

Granted, it was about seven in the morning, and he did sleep for the rest of the night.

Roger was the last of the both of you to wake up; not because of the crying-- he didn't even hear the crying-- but he was wrapped up in the blankets with you, and you were trying to remove yourself from his grasp.

"Don't leave," Roger grumbled as he pulled you tightly against his chest, eyes remaining closed as you whispered back to him.

"But I have to go. Baby's cryin'."

Roger loosened his grip on you, much to his dismay, and you slipped from his embrace, leaving him cold, and alone.

"Come back, Baby..." He really hoped his gravelly plea would entice you to return from the nursery after tending to Bobby, and although you were probably against having sex in your friends' bed, he figured there was no harm in testing the waters.

"That's not how that works when you have a baby, Rog. The day starts now."

Roger groaned in protest, but as he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, he revealed to himself that you were no longer in the room, and the baby's cries settled when he heard your voice float down the hall from the nursery room.

Roger, as much as he didn't want to, tossed the comforter off of his body, and after rising to his feet and combing his fingers through his hair, he shuffled out of the bedroom and made a beeline to the stairs.

He was glad he was familiar with John's kitchen; because he was certain you had no idea where anything was, meaning he would be the one preparing breakfast that morning, and the one following it, most likely.

Fuck it, he would (try to) cook you up seven different meals a day if you asked him.

Anything for you.

He put the kettle on, and moved to the pantry in search for John's teabags, yawning lightly as he pulled the door open.

Nothing in the pantry really stuck out to him as being a good breakfast that morning, so Roger ended up migrating to the fridge after retrieving the tea, where his eyes fell on the carton of eggs on the bottom shelf.

He settled on making French Toast for breakfast seeing as he, according to you, made the best French Toast in England.

So he got to work whipping up some eggs and pulling four slices of bread from the bread box on the counter-- but not before he got one of Bobby's bottles out for you, warmed it, and placed it on the kitchen table.

Roger was frying the French Toast in no time, and he hummed gently as he busied himself with focusing on the now whistling kettle, and when the right time to flip the toast would be.

"... I thought you were still in bed," your words were sudden, and it made Roger jump a little. But when he realized it was only you, Bobby in your arms, his mouth contorted into a dopey smile.

"Nah," Roger turned the pan's burner down a little, and after he flipped the French Toast, he set his spatula on the counter, turning to face you.

"I was gonna let you sleep in, since you were so reluctant on waking up," you explained with a yawn. "But here you are awake, and making breakfast before me."

"Well it wouldn't be fair then, would it? Me sleeping in while you've all this work to do?"

"I don't know, would it?"

"I really don't think so, Dove."

He felt pride swell in his chest when pink dusted your cheeks at the sound of your new nickname, and he took this chance to swoon you further by pulling you in gently by the elbows, and he enveloped both you and Bobby in his embrace.

"Beautiful..." Roger's voice was barely a whisper as he touched his lips to your jawline, and you responded with a soft exhale.

"Even when you've just woken up," Roger mumbled against the skin of your neck, lips curling into a smile, "you are the prettiest goddamned thing I've ever laid eyes on."

"Mmm, down, boy," you purred back jokingly, taking a small step back. "Baby still needs to eat."

"Well yours is coming right up," he teased, "and Bobby's is already at the table." Roger pointed to the bottle on the other side of the room before tapping your rear. "Take a seat, and I'll bring your food over."

You didn't have to be told twice. You took a seat at the table, and although Bobby was growing a little agitated, it was short lived when you put the bottle of milk in his possession.

Roger, not five minutes after you sat down, joined you at the table with your French Toast and your mug of tea, made just the way you liked it, of course.

"'S the right tea, yeah?"

You took a quick look at the label hanging from the mug.

"Yep." Your eyes squinted after letting the label fall where the string tied to it would let it. "Y'know, you've been making my tea right for months, you don't have to check to make sure you're right."

"You know I'm always gonna make sure it's to your liking."

"And I love you for it."

"Hopefully for other things too. I'm not just good at being your barista."

"Oh, don't you worry. I'm not overlooking your other good traits," you smiled as you brought your mug to your lips and having the first sip of tea of the day.

As Roger sat down next to you with his own plate of food and mug of tea, he decided to wait on Bobby to finish so he could eat with you.

So, naturally, he took the time to evaluate again what kind of situation he was in.

There was nothing like watching you care for Bobby. Roger had known you for years, and not once in his life did he ever think he would be sitting next to you at breakfast while feeding a baby, whether or not the child was his own, or yours.

The whole scene looked too good to be true, though like the previous night, Roger just drank in the sight of you putting all your love and care into a child at breakfast with him.

How did you think you weren't cut out for being a mother?

This was in your nature.

The domesticity of the situation made Roger a little emotional. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to experiencing a breakfast with a family he'd built, and he spent every passing second filling his mind and heart with the beautiful sight before him.

"Y/n, you would make a wonderful mother." Roger's words left his mouth faster than his brain could register what he'd said.

You looked to Roger from Bobby, cheeks and tips of your ears darkening, and Roger was talking again before he could realize it and catch himself.

"Any man would be so damn lucky to have you. I honestly can't believe you stick around me still."

Your face was feeling real hot, now. Roger's head was still lagging behind his words, and clearly, he wasn't done talking.

"You could be out building a beautiful family right now, but instead you're babysitting with your best friend who you also occasionally sleep with. I just... I don't understand."

It took you a second to respond, but Roger didn't blame you. Honestly, he didn't even know what he would have said if he were asked the same question.

"... Well, I love you, Roger."

Your words were simple, and Roger knew your statement was nothing but platonic, but that didn't stop his heart from pounding against his ribcage.

You'd said those exact three words to him minutes earlier, but the context of the conversations contrasted their meanings.

"But we promised each other at the beginning of all of this that we'd be fine giving up pursuing family life if that means living with one another..."

"... You sound unsure, now."

The atmosphere felt heavy, and it was almost as if Bobby had known making noise wasn't in his best interest. He decided to finish eating at the right time.

"... It's not that I'm unsure. It's just..."

Roger waited patiently for you to answer, but you had noticed Bobby finished his milk, and you took the bottle from him.

You burped him, and placed a pacifier you pulled from your pocket in Bobby's mouth. You must have gotten it from upstairs before you came down.

"Let me," Roger offered his arms out for the baby, and you let him take Bobby. You'd stood up and moved to the sink to wash the bottle.

Meanwhile, Roger, who'd also gotten to his feet, was slowly walking around the kitchen. He was praising Bobby for finishing all his breakfast, insisting he was so proud of him, his smile wide and gaze adoring as he evaluated the child in his arms.

"It's just that. There. The way you're behaving with him," you turn to face Roger, finger pointed at him. "The way you're treating him as your own."

Roger's mouth opened and closed a few times, but after shutting his jaw for the third time, he decided the best thing to do in this situation would be to keep quiet.

"You'd make the most wonderful father, Roger. The way you behave with Bobby, god, the way you behaved with Raymond the other day," you sounded frustrated, and all Roger could do was watch you pace the kitchen, his sheepish face now a deep red.

"It's just that I would want the father of my kids to be just like you. I wouldn't settle for anything less."

Roger opened his mouth again to speak. He felt like his chest was on fire. Your thoughts were becoming painstakingly parallel to his, Roger had noticed. He couldn't get any words out before you started speaking again.

"Like you said last night, this job is giving us a chance to experience what it'd be like to have a family... and maybe I'm upset I did throw the chance to have all of that away."

You looked like you were on the verge of tears, and all Roger could do was watch you and listen to what you had to say.

"Roger, I hope you know you will always have a special place in my heart. You're my family, you have been for the last five years of my life, and there's no doubt about it. But being able to have a child..."

Your hands ghosted over the robe's fabric covering your definitely unpregnant belly. "... I think I want to have children."

"... Y/n I hope you know I feel exactly the same way."

And then everything was clear.

Roger understood where his band was coming from.

Getting married to you would solve all your problems.

He knew what the both of you were thinking in this new moment of silence, but there was absolutely no way Roger was going to fall to one knee and propose to you right now when he wasn't even romantically involved with you.

And he just felt it would be very inappropriate if he took this moment to spontaneously ask you on a romantic date with the intentions of courting you.

"Listen, Y/n," Roger finally built up enough courage to break the silence. Bobby cut him off with a short cry, and Roger immediately started swaying the baby in his arms. Sure enough, Bobby's agitation ceased, and Roger could continue, keeping the movement going.

"Just because we're living together without families now doesn't mean we won't be able to have families, say, five to ten years down the road."

At this point, although it was necessary, Roger didn't really want to mention the discomfort he felt when imagining you falling for someone who wasn't him.

Your eyes were big and sad, lip pouted as you considered Roger's words. "... are you sure?"

The idea of you and him having to move out of the condo Roger risked the both of your love lives for didn't sit well with him.

You'd be gone making sweet love to some lucky asshole who probably didn't deserve to be in your presence, while Roger goes on a bender, gets ahold of some weed and coke, and sleeps with enough girls to distract him from realizing he'd thrown the best thing in his life away-- you.

He didn't want you to think he thought you were selfish. The last thing he needed right now was to feel guilty for making you feel guilty.

So he just nodded. "No house isn't forever anyways." When you didn't respond to his little joke, he sighed.

"Y/n, we're still so young. You don't have to commit yourself to anything like that just yet. Enjoy being able to go out drinking with me every weekend, and sleeping in on our days off. Your chance to start a family will come when the time is right."

You let out a shaky breath. Roger was actually a little surprised with how well you were keeping yourself together.

But his actions put the both of you here, and to see that this conversation nearly reduced you to tears had Roger drowning in guilt, even without the help of mentioning any of his inner conflict to you.

"I just hope you're right." Your voice was broken and your fingers were tangled stressfully in your hair.

"Hey," Roger's voice had gone soft again, his rocking slowing to a halt, and you looked up to find him with an open arm, awaiting your touch.

You slowly unravelled your fingers from your hair, and you gave into the hug not moments later. Roger pulled you to his chest tightly, his free arm occupied by the baby.

"Y'know... I made you French Toast to start the day off good." When you didn't say anything in response, Roger pulled away from you just enough to look you in the face.

He was giving you that same look he did at the Garrison's again; that unreadable gaze he'd achieved with those big blue eyes that seemingly bored holes into your very soul.

His free hand slipped up from your back to your neck, and he leaned in to just touch his lips to the corner of your mouth.

So close, yet so far away.

It wasn't before long that he pulled away from you, but Roger just couldn't keep his eyes off you.

"You come sit down and enjoy your French Toast, Dove. I've got Bobby."

"But--"

"Please?"

Roger knew he'd convinced you as soon as he said that magic word. Though you took a moment to look from the bundle in his arms to the breakfast you really were dying to dig into, you eventually sighed out a gentle "thank you," before taking your seat again at the table.

He came around and kissed the top of your head. "Enjoy, Honey." Roger took a seat next to you, Bobby still in his one arm, and the both of you ate your French Toast in relative silence for the first few seconds.

"... God, you really do make good French Toast, Blondie." Roger was smiling now. At least you were talking again.

"I only improved my cooking skills for you, y'know," he admitted with a mouthful of his food, though he didn't sound ashamed of it.

"And thank God for that. Cooking every other night sure beats cooking every night."

"You can say that again," Roger mumbled before shoving the last of his breakfast into his mouth. You still slowly ate away at your meal, and Roger was making funny faces at Bobby in between taking sips of his tea.

The telephone in the living room started ringing, and you stood up to go get it, but Roger immediately dropped his fork and grabbed your wrist.

"Nuh-uh. I just finished eating. You still have a little bit to go. Take Bobby and I'll get it." You scooped the baby up without another word, smiling when he opened his eyes.

"Can you at least bring back his rattle from his play pen?"

"Can do, Princess," he called over his shoulder as he approached the phone.

"H'lo?"

"Roger?"

"Oh, hey, John!" Roger tucked the phone's handset under his chin, carrying the telephone in his left hand so he could get Bobby's rattle.

"Isn't it a little early to be up?" Roger glanced at the clock, which read that it was quarter after seven.

"Biological clocks. Just wanting to checking in. Is Bobby okay? Has he been any trouble?"

"No, of course not! He's doing fine, John." Roger tucked the rattle in his back pocket when he found it, and returned to the writing desk where the phone was meant to stay.

That was something he loved about you. You always bought him pyjamas with pockets. The concept was cool, and being able to use them was even cooler.

"Y/n's got him in the kitchen right now," he explained, taking the handset again with his now free hand. "We're all just finishing up breakfast, actually."

"Oh good. How is she?" John paused for a second, his voice dropping a little lower. "... How are you guys?"

Roger made sure his voice was a little quiet, as well. "John, this may have been your guys' best idea ever. I don't know why I was against this in the beginning."

"Really?! What's happened already?!" John, everyone would have guessed to be one to avoid certain kinds of gossip, though when it came to Roger's business with you, he liked checking up on that.

"I told her about all that family stuff."

"And?"

"And, well..." Roger set the phone back onto the desk and scratched the back of his neck. "... She may or may not be having the same problem," he mumbled.

"So... so you both want a family?" John tried clarifying.

"Yes."

"Then why are you two not together?!" Roger slipped away around the corner into the main hall with just the receiver so he was a little further away from the kitchen. He didn't want you hearing their conversation, or John through the receiver.

"Well I'm not asking her here!"

"Then where? And when?"

Roger knew John was just getting excited, and his questions honestly had Roger brainstorming every possibility when it came to asking you.

"... I don't know, yet," Roger said after a while of thinking. "But soon. God, it needs to be soon." He didn't quite know why he was pressuring himself to ask you sooner than later.

Maybe it was because he was scared someone much better and more deserving of you (or alternatively, a selfish prick) was going to waltz in and steal you from him just before he had you for sure.

"Do you need any help with that part? I can get Fred and Bri--"

"No no no, it's okay, John." Roger leaned up against the wall of the hallway, fingers tapping the handset absentmindedly with his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

"You guys have already done enough, really. I... I think I'm good on my own from here."

"Well, I'm glad," John expressed to Roger. "It's not every day you need to help Roger Taylor get with a girl, y'know."

"This is different, and you know it."

"I just like to tease," John defended, and Roger could even hear a smile evident in his words.

"Anyways, Veronica and I will be home tomorrow around noon. Y/n's got our number. You two take care."

"Of course, you too," Roger was making his way back to the writing desk.

"Thanks. Oh, and Roger?" John added quickly.

"Hm?"

"If you two end up doing anything, for God's sake, please wash the sheets."

As John was speaking, you'd walked into the living room with Bobby in your arms. "We're gonna go and have some play time, now! Yes we are!"

Roger was too panicked by your presence to even realize you weren't paying any attention to the phone call, and he hoped to God you didn't hear a single thing John had said. "Yeah-yes! Laundry. Will do."

He nodded his head once, though John couldn't see him, and after saying their good byes, Roger hung up the phone.

He turned to where you were in the living room. You were looking in the play pen for something, and Roger suddenly remembered the rattle in his back pocket.

He pulled it out hurriedly and held it out to you. "Shit! I'm so sorry about that--"

"Don't swear, Roger," you took the rattle, a smile on your lips you both knew you were trying to frown away. "There's a baby here."

"What? He doesn't know what that word means."

"Well, the more you keep saying it, the more of a chance he has at that being his first word, and I do not need the Deacon Family hunting us down for teaching their kid swears." You looked from Roger down to Bobby, shaking the rattle gently and grinning when Bobby squealed happily and reached out for the toy.

You took a seat on the couch, and played around with Bobby while Roger went back to the kitchen to do the dishes.

From 7:30 AM to about 2:30, all that really happened was play-time and lunch, something Roger prepared. You offered to do the dishes, but Roger wouldn't allow it. He just suggested you put Bobby up for his nap. He'd fallen asleep in your arms during play-time, like he did with Roger the night before.

The both of you thought it was crazy Bobby would just fall asleep rather than cry, but honestly, neither of you were complaining. Quiet baby for the win!

Roger just finished putting the last plate on the drying rack on the counter as he listened above for your footsteps leaving Bobby's room. He dried his hands off with the dishtowel hanging over his shoulder after turning off the faucet.

From behind, Roger felt a pair of arms slowly circle his body, and he smiled warmly at the feeling of you pressed against his back.

"He asleep?"

"Mhm."

Roger's smile only widened as you inched your palms up his chest. He turned in your arms and pressed his hands against your hips, inching you closer as he leaned back against the kitchen sink.

"Well, what do we do, now?" Roger asked. He sounded like he was up to no good. With the sultry look in his eyes and the way the smile on his lips looked like he was repressing a naughty suggestion, he knew you knew he already had something on his mind.

"Well, I mean," your hands slipped up into Roger's long hair, fingers tangling themselves between the strands. "Anything, really."

You knew what game Roger was playing, and you loved how cute he was, thinking he was going to have you on your knees for him.

His eyes shamelessly raked over the top half of your body, and he squeezed his hands, still at your hips.

"What'll you be doing with your free time, Roger?" You took one more step closer to him, and he pulled you the rest of the way to him so your groin was flush with his.

"I'm looking right at her."

He was already strained against his jeans, and you just offered a smile, fingers tightening their grip in Roger's hair.

"Mmm... I kinda like the sound of that," you admitted lowly, half of a smile on your lips. You shifted your hips from side to side, and Roger tried to pull you even closer.

You rolled your hips against Roger again, and the cheekiness in his face fell with a look of long-awaited relief, and his head dropped to your shoulder.

One of his hands moved up to grab you by the back of your neck, and when he lifted his head to look at you again, his second hand dragged upwards from your hip to squeeze your waist.

Roger lifted the hand by your neck, and combed your hair back with his fingers. His eyes fell onto yours for a brief moment, and you could have sworn there was something he tried to tell you there.

You just couldn't read him.

But he didn't care. He pulled you in close again, and his lips were on yours.

You'd kissed Roger before. Not in public, but definitely in the bedroom. And they weren't very scarce. Honestly, if Roger's lips weren't somewhere else on your body, they'd be on yours.

But why was this feeling different from all the other times he'd kissed you?

He was being a lot less forceful and needy than he usually was.

His grip wasn't tight on you, and it wasn't like he was crushing you against him as if indicating he needed more of you, now.

He was holding you rather, and the hand at your waist circled around to press against your lower back. The hand on your neck shifted a little forward so Roger could gently slide the pad of his thumb down the column of your throat.

The both of you were holding your breath, and Roger was the first to pull away. The both of you sucked in some air, and before you could even draw in a full breath, Roger's lips were on yours again.

He pushed towards you, guiding you backwards until your back was flat against the refrigerator. His warm hands grabbed for yours and he pinned them above your head by your wrists.

Okay. This, was something you were used to. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for when Roger's hands loosened their grip on your wrists, and he was lacing his fingers between your own.

Your hands felt very small in Roger's. How had he never noticed that before? What else had he neglected to realize about you?

In that moment, he felt you pull away to breathe, and he looked down at you worriedly, fingers frozen, yet still laced with yours.

"I- uh... I-I'm sorry--"

"No no, don't be. It's okay," your response was very rushed, but you didn't skip a word.

There was about a minute of silence, your hot breaths mingling in the space between your lips, though your gazes were locked with one another, and you couldn't look away.

"Did-uh... did you want me to... to stop?" His question was gentle, almost sincere-sounding, but he still made no effort to move from his place.

"No. God, no." And as soon as you'd answered, Roger closed the space between the both of you again, his fingers unwound from yours to grab you by the jaw, and you just held his waist, pushing your body as close to him as he would let you.

He shifted around a little, and moved his leg between yours. You could feel his mouth bend into a smirk against yours, and he began to apply pressure to the apex of your legs with his knee.

Before long, as much as you wanted to resist it, you fell to Roger's submission, and as you waited for him to grab your waist and put you wherever, he hesitated for a second, and dropped his hands from yours.

You opened your eyes again to find Roger, face red, and staring at your chest. Not in an ogling way, but more of a method to avoid looking you in the eye.

He could tell you were looking at him, and he shifted his gaze to you. He itched at his hands awkwardly, mouth opening and closing as he tried to explain himself.

You just waited. You gave him time to think, and he had an answer for you sooner than either of you would have thought.

"I just... I wanna try something else. I don’t want to control you like I do every night."

It wasn't much of an explanation, but a good beginning to a demonstration.

"Will you come to bed with me, Y/n?" His offer was gentle, yet confident, despite offering a hand out hesitantly.

When you dropped your hand into his, all of the tension in Roger's being relaxed, and he quietly led you up the stairs, past the nursery, and into John and Veronica's room.

Before you could say anything he gently explained that he'd do laundry later, and then he pulled you in for another kiss he'd been waiting to give you since the last one.

Roger pulled you closer to him, hands cupping your face as his lips began to desperately chase after yours. You kissed Roger back with just as much vigor, but then he slowed the movements of his mouth, and guided you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Roger helped lower you down onto the bed, and he leaned over you, dipping down to kiss your lips again. He knelt between your legs, and pulled them up around his waist so he could lean in even closer.

You felt his hands squeeze your hips, and he pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth. You hummed lowly, your eyelashes kissing your cheeks as Roger pulled away ever so slightly-- just enough to pull his shirt off of him, and close the distance between your bodies again.

You tangled your hands into his hair, and he hummed in approval before pulling back just once more.

"I'm sure that's hardly fair..."

"What?"

"This," Roger tugged gently at the hem of your shirt.

"Why's yours still on?"

"... I never said it had to be."

Roger exhaled, and slowly pulled your shirt up over your head after you raised your arms to help him out a little.

He placed the palm of his hand over the smooth skin of your belly as he stared at your bare torso. And before long, he dipping down to kiss you again.

You reciprocated his actions, wrapping your arms around his neck and tightening your legs around his hips, to which he rocked himself against your core, and then---

Bam!

The headboard hit the wall, and Bobby woke up.

"Nooo..." you squeezed your eyes shut as the baby's cries began to reverberate down the hallway.

"Fuck!" Roger groaned, eyebrows knitted together helplessly as he climbed off of you. You both knew it was Roger who technically woke the baby up, and it was just silently agreed on that he went to put him back down.

"Dammit to hell, those separated headboards."

Roger opened the nursery door, and made his way to the crib in the corner of the room. Bobby's cheeks were wet with tears, and Roger's heart sank. "'M sorry, little guy. C'mere. Come see uncle Roger."

He picked the baby up and rocked him back and forth, though it wasn't exactly doing much, so Roger took a seat in the rocking chair on the opposite side of the room, swaying the both of them with a push of his feet.

Bobby's cries settled, and Roger felt proud of himself. Sure, he wanted to get back to what he was doing before, but instead he took his time in making sure Bobby was comfortable and not in need of anything before he drifted off to sleep again.

Bobby played around with Roger's fingers a few moments after his agitation ceased, and he couldn't believe how large his hands were in comparison to Bobby's. He was once that size.

A little while later Roger set Bobby down in his crib, and the infant was out. The drummer smiled at his accomplishment. He didn't even need your help.

With that, he left the room without a sound.

He stepped into John and Veronica's room, and closed the door quietly behind him. He was in the middle of turning on his heel when he stopped dead in his tracks.

You'd taken some of the pillows off the bed and wedged them between the wall and the headboard to keep the bed from making noise.

You were also splayed out on the bed in a lot less clothing than he remembered you in when he left.

With a teasing beckon from your finger, Roger knew three things were for certain.

1. You were the smartest woman he knew.

2. You were the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

3. He, the Roger Taylor, had fallen madly, and helplessly in love with you.

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A/A/N: Again, you’ve all been waiting long enough for the next chapter, so here you are. i hope you all enjoy, and if my response is great with this one, I’ll see if I can spit out another one soon <3

PERMENANT TAG LIST

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FIC TAGLIST

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How "A Hard Day's Night" opening chord was made...

paul: we just need an opening chord

john: any suggestions?

george: *throws his fucking guitar across the room*

john: perhaps, that's it!

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!

Oh god it's the original

Hey! I hope you are doing well and staying safe! I was wondering if you could add me to the tag list for TCND?? I am so invested in this story, thanks for writing it 😊 the @ is @lukewalksinthesky 💜🌼 have a nice day!

Of course! I'm adding you right now! Thank you sm for reading💖💖

This be Y'all every time I post a new chapter for TCND

Can u pls tag me in the couple next door pls??

Can do!❤

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

Find Part Seven Here

A/N: Honestly, I never expected this fic to get to 8 chapters, but here we are!

Summary: Roger and Y/n babysit for John and Veronica

(You can imagine the canon or Hardy!Roger; whatever bohemians your rhapsody)

WARNINGS: Self-doubt, swearing maybe(?), mentions of sex (like... once)

This chapter will be rated as a T. Enjoy!

"If you need anything, literally anything, please call us. We know where everything is, and--" 

 "John, I promise I'll call if we need to. Roger and I will be fine," you tried to assure the bassist, giving his shoulder a pat as he took a breath. 

 "Okay, okay." He smiled, though it was a sad-looking one. You knew being away from Bobby was going to be difficult for him, and you tried your best to keep him calm, and ensure him not to worry a bit. 

 "Y/n is very responsible," Roger, who was standing next to you, reminded John. He knew John was aware of that, but Roger didn't like seeing John emotionally distraught. He saw John cry once so far in his life, and it was so heartbreaking that he decided he never wanted to see him cry ever again. 

 Veronica walked through the door into the nursery with Bobby in her arms. 

"Let's say goodbye to Daddy," she cooed as she handed him over to John, who repeatedly kissed the infant's head over and over again, whispering to him how much he loves him, and how he was gonna be right back. 

 You watched with sad eyes and a pouty lip as John and his son interacted, Bobby reaching up to grab John's finger with his tiny hands. Roger gauged your reaction, taking quick mental notes of how John was acting so he could mimic his behaviour with Bobby later. 

 Veronica eventually had to tell John that they were going to be stuck in traffic if they spent any longer at home, so John placed Bobby in your embrace before blowing him a kiss. 

 "Uncle Roger will take good care of you, Bub. I love you," he whispered once more before thanking you again, and leaving the three of you in the nursery, though Roger followed them out and locked the door behind them. 

 You moved into the living room with Bobby in your arms, taking a seat on the sofa. Roger watched John and Veronica leave the driveway through the window, and you were saying inaudible, silly things to Bobby as he happily smiled at the faces you were also making.

 Roger looked over his shoulder to you, and your eyes flitted to him. "Rog, d'ja think you could get me a bottle from the refrigerator, please?" 

 He nodded quickly, and rushed out of the room, returning only moments later with a bottle. 

"Thanks, Love," you took the bottle from him, completely missing the look of pride sporting his face, but it didn't matter. You flipped the bottle, and Bobby, on instinct, reached out for it. You helped him hold it up, cooing about how hungry he was as he sucked the bottle non-stop. 

Roger watched you intently from the other side of the coffee-table, biting the nail of his thumb as he took note on how to feed Bobby. Or... how you were feeding him. 

 Your eyes moved up to him again, catching notice of his intense stare. "... D'ja wanna feed him?" You asked Roger gently. 

 He froze up for a moment, pointing to himself in silent questioning. You nodded, and Roger's cheeks darkened a few shades. 

 "Come over. He won't bite," you teased, tilting your head in the direction of the empty cushion next to you, which Roger occupied not moments later. 

 He reached out to balance the bottle for Bobby now, and you let go of it. Roger grinned airily when he realized he was doing it. You smiled warmly at how proud Roger looked. 

 "Here," you reached one of your hands out to grab the wrist of his free hand. You pulled his arm over, and Roger watched you closely as you slowly put Bobby in his grasp. You adjusted his posture a little bit, putting a hand over your heart. 

 "You're both adorable," you sighed, rising to your feet and slipping into the kitchen for a moment. Roger looked down at Bobby, smiling a little as the baby stared at him with his big round eyes as he continued to suck the milk from his bottle. 

 "Auntie Y/n was right, wasn't she? You are very hungry," Roger let a chuckle pass his lips as he watched this kid in astonishment. He was so small. How could someone so small eat seemingly so much? 

 When you returned, Bobby was nearly done with his bottle. "What a good boy! You ate all your food! Good job!" Bobby smiled at your praise, and Roger's expression matched. 

 "I can take him now, if you'd like. I know he may be a little heavy, and your arm'll fall asleep at some point." Roger kept silent until Bobby was completely done the bottle, who'd pulled away from it entirely. 

 You scooped Bobby up and burped him, to which you responded "ooh, big burp," and you took this moment to eye the clock on the wall. 

 "Nine o'clock?! You still have a whole hour to be up, Honey Bear," you gasped, earning a happy squeal from the baby. "Maybe some Play Time would be good to tucker you out, huh?" 

 "Play Time?" Roger asked rather excitedly. You laughed at his enthuisasm, nodding at his question. 

 "Can I play with him?" 

 "Well what are you gonna play?" 

 "Peek-a-Boo, probably," he admitted lamely. You just shook your head with a smile, shifting to sit cross-legged and facing Roger. You set Bobby on your lap so he was also facing him. 

 Roger's smile widened so much he could barely keep his eyes open. He also sat cross-legged, facing you and Bobby. 

 He put Bobby's empty bottle on the coffee table, rubbing his hands together in an epic preparation to play the most intense game of Peek-a-Boo known to man... 

 He pressed his hands over his face, and you gasped playfully. "Bobby! Oh my goodness! Uncle Roger's Gone!" 

 "Peek-a-Boo!" Roger exclaimed as he parted his hands from his face, Bobby's eyes widening, as well as his toothless grin. He giggled, though it was short-lived, for when Roger put his hands over his face again, Bobby fell silent. That is, until-- 

 "Peek-a-Boo!" 

 The child's laughs were contagious. Your head was thrown back as you laughed uncontrollably at the high giggles, and Roger took this time to just drink in how you looked when you weren't paying any mind to your surroundings. 

 The more of this situation he let himself become aware of, the easier it was for him to imagine the both of you in a place like this in the future, near or far. He was finally understanding why John loved being home so much. 

 Roger wouldn't admit it then, but he would give anything to be able to come home from work to this: a baby, and you. 

 You tilted your head back down, and before you could catch Roger staring right through you, he hid himself behind his hands again. 

 Peek-a-Boo lasted a little bit longer, but you and Roger eventually brought Bobby upstairs after he'd nearly fallen asleep in your lap. 

How a baby could have fallen asleep during Peek-A-Boo, you didn’t know. 

You set him down in his cradle, and rocked it slowly as Bobby drifted off to bed. You couldn't believe how well-behaved and quiet Bobby was, but you were not complaining; No, Sir. 

 Roger watched the both of you from the dresser, thumbnail between his teeth like earlier. 

 When you were sure Bobby was asleep, you caressed his soft pale cheeks with the back of your index finger before standing and tiptoeing away from the cradle. Roger got the door for you, and the both of you watched through the crack in the door for a moment or two before closing it completely. 

 "What now?" Roger asked gently. You shrugged before whispering, "Anything you want, really. Think of this time as a break." Roger nodded slowly, but made no move to leave his spot in front of the door. 

 "What will you be doing?" He asked after a moment. "Probably preparing for bed. We only have about seven hours of sleep if we're lucky, but he'll probably need to be taken care of in the middle of the night." 

You pursed your lips in thought. "Let's just head to bed, Rog, get as much sleep as we can." He only responded with a nod. You followed him down the hall, but disbanded to your separate rooms. You were taking John and Veronica's room, while Roger was occupying the bed in the spare room. 

 You turned at the threshold of the door, as did Roger. You looked at him wordlessly, as did he to you. 

 "G'night, Roger," you yawned gently into your hand. 

 "G'night, Y/n," Roger whispered back as you both inched your doors shut. 

Roger leaned up against the door as soon as it closed, and he let out a deep breath. 

 You both had to be here for two days, and not even two hours in, Roger was fuelling this domestic fantasy of his rather than fulfilling it. 

 He enjoyed every single minute of this, but with each passing second, Roger became increasingly aware of how much time was running out for the both of you to achieve this dream. 

 It stung, because Roger wasn't even sure if you wanted this. Of course you'd shown distaste for having children at this age, but even looking passed that, would you really want the father of your kids to be Roger Meddows Taylor, of all people?

The Sex Symbol, Roger Taylor? The sarcastic prick, Roger Taylor? The fuck-friend, Roger Taylor? 

Roger's chest ached as he pushed himself off the door and towards his bed. 

 Of course you wouldn't. 

 You could do so much better. 

 You sat up abruptly when you heard it. 

 Crying. 

 You tossed the comforter off your body and threw your robe on, which was lying at the end of the bed. You opened your door, making your way to the nursery, silently hoping he hadn't been crying for too long. 

 You yawned weakly into your hand before opening the door. When you stepped into the nursery, you didn't expect Roger to be there, in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, Bobby in his arms as he fed him another bottle.... 

But there he was. 

 "Needed a changin', and then he was hungry," he explained quietly. You crossed your arms over your chest, observing how Roger held Bobby comfortably, and perfectly. 

 "Thought you didn't know how to take care of children, yet here you are changing and feeding him without my help." 

 "I never said I didn't know how to care for them, I said I was iffy with them," he corrected softly, never taking his eyes off the featherlight hairs on Bobby's head.

 You raised an eyebrow, though Roger was focused on the child in his arms. 

  You couldn't even feed him on his own earlier, and now you're the Nappy Master? Yeah. Alright. 

 "That's not what you told me on the lift earlier today," you argued lightly, hands on your hips. 

 Roger sighed, crossing one leg over the other as he rocked slowly in the chair. "Maybe I wanted you to help me, alright?" You offered a sad smile, and he accepted it as a gentle apology. 

 The corners of his lips twitched upward as his eyes fell back to Bobby. "'N fact, the more I spend with this little guy, the more I wish I had a kid." He looked up to you. 

"Crazy to think, huh? Once the King of One-Night Stands wanting a family," he spoke as if the concept were a funny joke; a paradox, even. 

 It was your turn to stare from the bookshelf on the other side of the nursery. 

 "... I know we have this arrangement and everything, and this was supposed to work out because neither of us wanted families of our own," you tensed at his words, but your shoulders fell when he said, "... and don't fret, I'm not gonna leave you." 

 "... But," you started for him. 

 "But," he paused. 

"... I'm starting to understand what I'll be missing out on. Just makes me sad, is all." You pushed off the bookshelf and took a seat on the floor in front of Roger, the bright moon casting almost an ethereal glow along the side of his pale, sleepy face. 

 "What would you cherish about it if you had a family, Rog?" 

 "The fact that I'm being loved for more than my body would be a start," he said. You felt your stomach drop at that. 

 "Rich coming from a guy like me, I know," he sighed. "The idea of settling down, having constants in my life.... I'm craving that. I know I'm young, and I'm not tied down in a committed relationship, and I should be cherishing this freedom but..." 

You tilted your head a little as he tried to piece together what he was about to say next. He swallowed, eyes falling to your face. 

 You looked so pretty... 

 "... What if I don't wanna be alone anymore, Y/n?"

 You hadn't expected that, but it did explain the constant one-night stands he had with groupies: He was in search of validation; and what better way than to take a girl to bed and love on her all night? 

 "I... I have so much love to give, and no one to give it to." His voice sounded weak, and he looked helplessly at Bobby, who was still suckling away at the milk in his bottle. 

 "... What if he was right...?" You frowned a little as Roger lifted his gaze to you again. 

 "Mr. Garrison. I mean, what if having children is just as rewarding as he says it is?" You hadn't noticed you'd been crying until you could taste your salty tears on your lips. You'd been reminded of your conversation with Bethany a few weeks prior, and now you were asking yourself all the same questions. 

 "We'd be missing out on a good life," you laughed upsettingly, rubbing your eyes dry with the sleeve of your robe. 

 Roger didn't say much after that. After Bobby finished eating, Roger burped him and put him back to bed. Like before, Bobby fell right to sleep. 

 Roger rose to his feet, and then helped you up gently by your elbows. You followed him out of the room, and closed the door behind you. 

 Roger slid his arm around your back and slowly walked you down to your room. You took a step through the door, and when you felt his arm fall from your body as he began mumbling his "goodnight"s, you immediately turned back and caught him by his wrist. 

 He didn't say anything, and you rushed through your head for something to say. 

"Stay," You said after another second of silence. 

 Roger's confused look melted into one of adoration, lips parted and eyebrows lifted. 

 "... Roger, I don't wanna be alone either." 

 And that did it.

 Without another word, Roger had stepped into the room with you, and he shut the door behind him. You untied your robe, and Roger watched from where he was standing as you let it drop to the floor.

 It's not like you were wearing nothing, but a long shirt and your underwear was pretty close to nothing. 

 He scooped you up in his arms silently, catching the light switch with his elbow as he slid the both of you into bed.

 You expected him to just roll back over, but when one of his palms fell to rest at your hip, head on top of yours, you couldn't help but hold your breath. 

 At this point you and Roger'd had a fair amount of sex, but being wrapped up in his arms like that; his thumbs dragging down your bare skin in lazy, invisible patterns... it was the most intimate thing you'd done with him ever.

 You only pushed yourself closer to Roger, and as you drifted off, basking in the warmth of his body heat, and drowning in the smell of his body wash, you heard him mumble, "you're not alone anymore, Doll."

_____________________________

A/A/N: Guys, the amount of notes I’ve been getting for these fics recently are blowing me out of the water! I want to thank all of you for your support by liking, reblogging, and leaving me replies. It really means a lot to me, and inspires me to go on doing what I love most: Producing these stories for you guys! I hope you all enjoyed this one. Things are only gonna get better from here! <3

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

Find Part Six Here

A/N: So, I kinda split this chapter into 2 parts bc it was so long. I’ll post the second one as soon as I post this one. I was also kinda upset bc I posted something this morning and there’s like… 2 notes on it (Thank you, fellow bloggers <3), so I’m trying to keep my mind off that.

But yes, you guys have been waiting for another chapter since February, so I’ve come to save the day (and your Quarantines)

Summary: John asks Roger for a favour.

(Read Roger as canonical, or Hardy!Roger, whatever brightens your day) 

WARNINGS: Mentions of oral sex, implications of sex, swearing probably, and maybe some errors bc I don’t wanna edit this

I’m putting the fic at a T, bc nothing really happens, but I advise to read at your own risk if you’re under 18

(Also, been waiting FOREVER to use this gif)

Roger hadn't fully crossed the threshold of the door to the control room at the studio when both Brian and John, both there way before him and Freddie, turned to him and called him over. 

 "Roger, do you know any sitters? Veronica and I are planning on going up and visiting her parents this weekend and we can't take Bobby with us."

 The look on John's face was clearly upsetting. He loved his son with all his heart, especially since Bobby was his first kid. It also probably didn't help that he was only a month or so old. 

 Roger wondered if there was ever going to be a day where he'd feel sad having to look for a nanny for a kid of his own. 

 "Just ask Brian to watch him. Surely Bobby would find entertainment in ripping all that hair from his scalp." 

 "Ha-ha. Very funny, Roger," Brian called back to him, arms and legs crossed as he spun around in his chair to face Roger head on. 

 "Chrissie and I are sharing our one year and I wanted to take her out this weekend." Roger shrugged. "Try Fred, then. He and Mary won't have a problem sitting for you, surely." 

 "Already asked, my Love," Freddie responded for John as he walked into the room, tossing a (fabulous, may I add) jean jacket down on the sofa pushed up against the back wall. 

 "Mary's visiting her father then, and I couldn't possibly care for a child on my own." 

 "You have like... fifteen cats, and you can't take care of a baby for a night or two?"

Fred just shrugged at Roger's question before taking a seat next to John. "Roger, do you think maybe you and Y/n could take him?" 

 Roger's face twisted in confusion. 

"Wait wait wait... us? Why us?!" 

 "Roger," John sounded desperate. "We will pay you guys! You can stay at our house! Everything you'll need will be there!"

 "John, I don't know..." 

 "Roger," Brian interrupted. The three other heads in the room turned to the curly-haired guitarist as he rose to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"You can use this chance to prove yourself to Y/n." 

 "Prove myself? What are you talking about?!" 

 "Don't tell us you've forgotten about that whole family issue you've been having," Freddie tisked playfully. 

 "This is your chance to show her you're father material," Brian explained, slapping Roger on the back. 

 "Look, I get you all love Y/n, and you think it's funny if I make a fool out of myself," 

 "It is pretty entertaining," John defended with a smile on his face, to which Roger glared back. 

 "But," Roger continued as Brian's hand fell back to his side. "The situation is between me and her. Not you guys." 

 "... But have you even spoken to her about it?" John asked quietly, to which Roger sighed. "It's just... It's complicated," Roger combed his hair back with his fingers. 

 "We're just trying to help, Rog. We all know you're dying to marry this girl." 

 "Shut up, Fred," Roger mumbled through his teeth. 

 "I'm just saying, marrying her would be a real problem-fixer with the whole... condo situation." 

 "They're not even dating," John reminded. 

 "Pssh. Yeah. And I'm not a Hysterical Queen," Freddie finished, kicking his legs up on the console, being mindful not to hit any buttons with the soles of his shoes. 

 "Besides, I can't think of one person I know who fucks their best friend and doesn't end up dating them in the end."

 It was Freddie, John, and Brian who pushed Roger to even begin that arrangement with you. 

 He'd set the both of you up, all along! 

 Roger opened his mouth to give Freddie a piece of his mind, and Brian's hand was already gripping onto the drummer's shoulder to hold him back from literally throwing himself at the other, entertained, quarter of the band. 

 "Hey guys," all four of them turned quickly to the source of the sound, and it turned out to be you, peeking out from behind the doorway, and revealing five paper cups of tea. "Woke up and figured I'd be nice today." 

 "Aw, could you hear your ears ringing, my Love? We were just talking about you," Freddie drawled happily. Roger glared at him as he spoke while Brian and John watched the situation unfold.

 "Me? What for?" You began pulling each paper cup from its place in the tray, and handing them out to each band member one-by-one as John cleared his throat to explain. 

 "Well, you see, Veronica wants to visit her parents this weekend, and we can't bring the baby with us. On top of that, we can't find a sitter." 

 "Well, why didn't you ask Roger? We'd be happy to take care of Bobby!" 

 "Is that so?" Freddie sarcastically asked, taking a sip of his tea before setting it down and dramatically throwing his hands behind his head. He leaned back into a relaxed state, giving Roger an amused look. 

 "Well we tried asking your Honey over here, and he said you two wouldn't be okay with it." Fred, Roger thought, is really asking for it. 

 "First of all, very funny," you smiled as you began counting on your fingers, clearly unaware of the depressing look on Roger's face when you dismissed Freddie's label for the drummer. 

 "Secondly, I love Bobby, why wouldn't we be okay with sitting for him?" 

 You glanced back at Roger before facing John again. "And thirdly, even if Roger doesn't wanna come, I will." 

John's eyes widened as a smile broke out onto his face. "So is that a yes? You'll do it?" 

 "Of course, Deaky!" 

 "Perfect! You can stay at our house and everything so we don't have to send the crib or anything with you! You're a lifesaver, Y/n!"

 "Anything for you and 'Ronica, Johnny." 

 "Well," Freddie clapped his hands once before kicking his legs off the console table and onto the floor. "Are we all good to practice now?" 

 "We should be," John confirmed as he downed some of his tea before standing up from his chair and stretching. 

 You turned back to Roger, taking a sip of your tea."I gotta go to work, Roggie. I'll see you tonight, 'round dinner, yeah?" 

 "Sure," he nodded as the room around the both of you bustled with the other three members of Queen preparing to enter the recording room. You nodded, and you turned to leave the room. 

 Roger watched you disappear behind the door, and Freddie called him to help record. 

 Despite this, Roger set his cup of tea down on the coffee table next to him, and actually took off out the door after you. 

 He assumed you'd be taking the lift, and knowing there were some issues with its mechanics, he knew for sure he could beat the lift to the bottom floor just before you could leave if he took the stairs. 

 Sure enough, when the doors to the lift opened on the ground floor, Roger was waiting for you on the other side. 

 It startled you, and before you could chastise him for scaring you, he stepped into the lift.

 "Quick talk before you leave," he mumbled hurriedly as he shut the lift's doors. 

"What?" You frowned in confusion. 

 "Look," he sighed. He tried to ignore how quiet it was in the lift, but it was hard to do that when he was the only one talking. 

 "That whole thing... with John and his son... I panicked." 

 God, he could hear himself thinking. 

 "I don't know anything about kids, let alone babies. I didn't wanna take responsibility for something I don't know how to care for." 

 "And I do," you responded, offering a warm smile to Roger before taking another drink of your tea. 

 "Love, you've nothing to worry about. I cared for my cousin in high school when he was just a baby. I've no issue in showing you the ropes."

 "I thought you were iffy with kids, like I am." 

 "I'm just “iffy” with the idea of becoming a mother, and having children of my own," you corrected, nudging him in the arm when your comment didn't gauge a reaction from him. 

 You just figured the neighbours and their expectations of the both of you were on his mind.

 "Hey, it's not like any of our neighbours are gonna see us with Bobby. We'll be at John's the whole time, right? Out of sight, out of mind."

 "Yeah, I guess." Roger shrugged. 

 "Don't think this will change anything. We're doing this for a friend, not to appease the old people surrounding our condo." 

 Roger didn't say anything, his eyes cast to the floor. Of course this was bothering him, and although you thought it was for all the wrong reasons, he never admitted to you why he was actually uneasy about the whole thing. 

 "Roger," you sighed, rubbing circles on his back with your free hand. "We'll be okay." 

 You held out your pinky from your paper cup as a promise. "... Trust?" 

 Roger looked at your innocent eyes and hopeful smile, and that boy caved in so fast he hadn't realized he solidified the promise until after speaking. "Trust, Y/n," he breathed gently. 

 You unlinked your pinky from Roger's, and you caught him frown. 

 "Better not be moody when you get off work," you warned playfully to him, opening the lift's door. 

 "And why is that?" Roger lightly challenged back, trying a smile, and offering it to you when it felt right. 

 You turned on your heel as you walked out, eyelids lowering as you lazily grinned at Roger. 

 "Because dinner and a blowjob will be waiting for you at home this evening," you said matter-of-factly. 

 You almost laughed at the starstruck look in the blond's eyes, mouth hanging open, and face burning a deep red. 

 You tapped the lift's button to send Roger back to the floor he needed. As the lift's doors began to close, Roger watched you turn and make your way to the building's entrance. 

 "See you tonight, Drummer Boy," you called over your shoulder to him. The lift's doors finally shut completely, and Roger stood in absolute dumbfoundment until the lift opened again. 

 He really couldn't believe how lucky he was to be able to have you. 

 As a friend, and, of course, as a stress-reliever. 

He made sure to keep a smile on his face the rest of the day. 

 When any of the guys questioned him, he'd just respond with a shrug, the tips of his ears flushing the same colour as his shirt. 

 And when Roger got home that night, dinner was most definitely ready for him... 

 Though with the look you were giving him as soon as the two of you sat at the table, you both made a silent agreement to head upstairs and just skip to dessert.

______________________________

A/A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long to post. The next one will be up within the next 2 hours. Thank you all for being so patient. I love Y’all.

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Across The Universe (Paul McCartney x Female!Reader)

A/N: Yeah, I’m totally about to drop this, and a new chapter for TCND today. I don’t know how many of y’all like the Beatles, but I wrote this, and wanna see if anyone will really want another part.

OKAY SO I’m gonna say right now that I do not own, or are affiliated with the Beatles in any way (RIP), and this story is based off of/ heavily inspired by the 2007 movie Across The Universe, but the main characters, Jude and Lucy, are represented as Paul and the Reader. All of the characters mentioned, or are in this chapter (Other than Vick) are either real people, or characters from the movie. 

Although all of the descriptive writing is mine, the concept was taken from the movie. A lot of the writing here has been altered from the movie to better fit the characters and situations they are in. I’ve added/ changed parts that weren’t in the movie in the first place, and I left a little out, again, for the purpose of the plot to kinda make more sense. This fic will be more focused on the relationship developing between the two love interests than in the movie, so lots of iconic scenes from the movie (Such as Prudence’s first scene, Jojo’s introduction to New York, etc) won’t be included in the fic, though those characters will make appearances at some point.

I will make up for the lack of content there with more scenes of Paul and the Reader interacting/ in situations that didn’t happen in the movie.

I advise you watch Across The Universe, or have already watched it before you read to prevent spoilers, bc there will probably be a lot of those. (Watching it when high makes it even better tbh, there’s some trippy stuff in that)

A L S O , In this AU, the Beatles do not exist, although it is set in the 60′s!! Paul is legit just a 23 year old guy who wants to see the world.

Summary: Paul decides to head to the United States; You say good bye to your boyfriend before he leaves for Vietnam.

WARNINGS: Swearing, mentions of War, Mike McCartney calling Paul out on some bs, probably a couple of grammar errors bc it’s like... 5:30 AM where I am, and I haven’t slept yet :)

This little fic will be rated T. just because of the swearing

Prom went just as you'd expected it to: You had a nice meal, and did some wonderful dancing with your boyfriend. Despite the blisters on your feet from your shoes, you disregarded them as a temporary memory of one of the last times you'd see Daniel before he took off for the war.

When he got the letter in the mail, he opened it in your presence. Up until the day he died, he felt guilty for making you one of the first to know of his draft.

He cried in your arms for a long while, and you put all your strength into holding your tears back to bring him comfort in such a difficult time.

America had only just entered the Vietnam War, and it didn't seem real to any of you until the day Daniel got that fucking letter.

After talking it over with him, Daniel proposed that the both of you should just enjoy the remaining time you had before he'd have to leave.

And that's what put you here, in the passenger seat of Daniel's car, his mouth leeched onto your neck as his fingers tangled themselves in your hair.

"My mum and dad are home," you explained gently; solemnly. Daniel pulled away from your neck, instead moving to rest his lips on your forehead. "Of course."

He pulled away completely then, stepping out of the car and moving to the other side to hold your door open for you.

You stepped out, and Daniel interlaced his fingers with yours as you both walked up the drive to your house. The both of you listened to the clicks of Daniel's shoes on the pavement-- you were barefoot, your heels hanging from your fingers.

When he'd brought you up the porch, you turned to lean against one of the house's banisters. Daniel saw the look on your face, the one that just screamed 'please don't leave.'

"I'll be home soon," he said confidently, reaching out to squeeze one of your hands. "They give you a furlough after boot camp."

"And after that?" You never got a verbal response. Daniel just wrapped his arms around you tightly. You squeezed your eyes shut, and hugged him back with all the strength you had.

_____________________________

And at this time, across the Pond in Liverpool, England, Paul McCartney was walking home his girlfriend Molly, who he'd been out at a bar with all night, drinking and dancing to the live bands said bar had to offer that evening (and morning).

"Who'll take me out next week? You'll be halfway around the world." She threw a glance over her shoulder, and all Paul could do was offer her a cheeky smile.

"Well it better not be Phil Scully."

Honestly, Paul knew he deserved the shove Molly gave him not moments later, but he just threw his arms around her with a laugh as they turned down her street.

Paul tried to slip into his back door as quietly as he could, being sure to force a fake cough so he could discreetly lock the door.

He was finally safe. He took the time to puff out the air he'd been holding in his lungs, and he rested his forehead against the door.

"... Finally back, I see?"

Paul cringed.

Fuck.

"Yeah... sorry, Dad."

Paul turned around, and sure enough, there his father was: at the table, an empty plate of crumbs sitting in front of him, a cup of tea in his hand, and the Liverpool Echo in the other.

"Your brother just got home, too," Mr. McCartney mumbled as he brought his mug to his lips.

"He was with his girlfriend."

"I was, too," Paul defended as he opened the refrigerator and snagged an apple off one of the shelves before kicking the door shut and leaning against the counter.

Mike, Paul's brother, had just stepped into the kitchen with the same intention as Paul: getting breakfast.

"Mornin!'"

Paul nodded his head to his brother, mouth already full of apple.

"But I know who Mike's girlfriend is, James."

"Ooh," Mike smiled wickedly. He'd come in at just the right time. "Yeah, James, Dad knows who my Bird is."

Paul cringed a little at the name. James. The only people he really allowed to call him James was his parents.

"I just haven't... found the right time to introduce her, 's all," Paul excused after he swallowed. To avoid saying anything else, he went in for another bite of the fruit.

"No, it's because I actually love my girlfriend," Mike chortled as he popped a slice of bread in the toaster by Paul's arm, which just resulted in a playful shove from his older brother.

"I love my girlfriend," He argued back.

"But have you even told her that?"

Paul rubbed the back of his neck. "Well... not exact--"

"Point proven," Mike pointed to his brother, eyeing his father proudly.

"Look, all I'm saying, James, is that clearly, if you're stalling an introduction, you don't plan on keeping her 'round," Mr. McCartney explained.

"Dad, it's... it's complicated." Paul was rubbing the back of his neck again before taking another bite from his apple.

"There's just no point in wasting your time with someone you're just gonna throw away,"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Paul put his hands up at his brother's comment. "Who said anything about throwing anyone away?!"

"Well, you are going to America in a couple of days," Mike pointed out, grinning widely as his toast popped. He moved around the kitchen for a knife and some butter from the table.

"You really gonna stay with her when you're gonna have all those single American girls around to choose from?"

Paul didn't answer. He just shoved the apple into his mouth, rolled his eyes, and moved to the other side of the room, where the staircase leading upstairs was located.

He took a seat on the first two steps as he continued eating away at his breakfast.

"Paul, when I was your age-- maybe even younger than you, I met your mother. I knew she was The One after our first date. I took her home to meet my parents immediately."

Paul waited patiently for his father to get to the point.

"If you're not bringing her 'round, maybe she ain't the right one. Just think about it."

No one really said much else. Mike had started eating his toast, and Mr. McCartney turned his attention back to the paper, so Paul went upstairs.

He shut the door to his room when he arrived, and sighed happily at the sight of his bed. He climbed right on without taking his coat off. He kicked his legs up and stared at the ceiling as he finished off his apple, tossing the core into the waste bin next to him.

He understood where his father was coming from, and maybe he was right. But, Paul wasn't exactly looking for a long-term partner like all his other friends had done after they graduated from school.

Even Mikey had hopped onto that gravy train.

Paul was twenty-three. He still had plenty of time to find a girlfriend and settle down. That's why he decided to take off to The Land Of Opportunity. He wanted to get out and experience what it was like outside his dreary hometown before he devoted the rest of his life to a wife and kids, and living as a boring, stereotypical family until the day he died.

Did he have a Visa to legally work in America?

Fuck no. But it's not like that was gonna stop him from finding some form of income, whether or not it was technically legal.

Paul sat up in his bed, turning to peer into his closet.

He was pulling his suitcases from there moments later, and he unzipped all of them to begin packing. There was nothing he really needed to pack rather than his clothes, cigarettes, passport, a photo of his mother, and a small notebook containing all the phone numbers he'd had to keep over the years.

His cousin's number was the one he was particularly packing the book for. Paul managed to convince him to make room for him at his place he shared with his friends just outside the Princeton University Campus, where he was currently studying.

"You're a lifesaver, Vick" Paul mumbled as he tossed the book into one of the suitcases, and zipping it back up.

_____________________________

"Sometimes I feel like you're not tellin' me everythin'," Molly mumbled as she pulled away from the swelling kiss Paul was trying to leave her before he parted for America.

"I just need a break from here, Molly. I'll be back before you know it," he tried to comfort her with his gentle words, but she just looked upset. 

"N'd a break from me," it sounded more like a statement.

"Don't be ridiculous," he offered a smile, but when she didn't really react to it, Paul slipped his fingers into her hair, and threw it behind her shoulder.

"I'll be missing you by tomorrow,"

"I bet," she mumbled, eyes fixed on a pebble on the sidewalk between her feet.

Paul pinched her chin, and tilted her head so she was looking right at him. He looked more serious now.

"I'll write home everyday."

"You better."

"N'd I'll send all my loving to you."

And that's all it took.

"You bastard," Molly tried concealing her grin, but Paul had her wrapped around his finger, and she gave in to his charm.

And not long after, she was giving into another one of his desperate kisses.

_____________________________

"I promise, every day I'll write, babe. I love you so much," Daniel rushed his words out between quick kisses he left on your lips, his hands squeezing your own tightly. He pulled away soon enough to give you a smile, and then the car he was in started driving away. 

His hands slipped away from yours, and you suddenly felt cold.

You wanted to chase after the car, but your feet stayed glued to the road. Your heart felt strained as you watched the car drive off and around the corner.

Good-bye, Danny.

_____________________________

A/A/N: If you want me to continue on with this, please let me know! I really really like the Beatles, and I wanted to give Paul x Reader a try. As always, likes, replies, and reblogs are always appreciated. And I promise, the next chapter to this will be much, much longer, if y’all want it enough <3

This is super important. I don't mind losing some followers if it means I get dumbasses off my page.

Reblog if it's okay for anybody to message you if they're feeling lonely during self isolation. Let's get through this together!

Hey, I'm not dead

I'm sorry I've been inactive. This quarantine is kicking my ass, and I've had no motivation. It's all coming back, now though, so y'all should expect a new TCND chapter soon.

So, I'm also a massive Beatles fan and I watched Across The Universe (one of my faves) last night baked as hell and now I have inspiration to write about some of the Bug Boys. I just wanted to know what Y'all would think about me expanding my writing to more than one character. (Trust me, I love Rogie, but I also wanna see who else I'm capable of writing as)

Thank you all for your patience ❤❤

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.

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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

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

Read Part IV Here

A/N: I am so sorry I couldn’t get this out on Valentine’s Day like I promised. I wanted to have a wonderful day with my boyfriend, and we ended up falling asleep and I found no time to post. I really am sorry.

But anyways, I’m not sure how well this chapter is gonna go because the last one was kinda slept on :/ BUT, to be fair, the previous one had no reader, and it was literally just dialogue, so I get it. I just really hope this one does better.

Summary: Roger goes home with a proposal to change his deal with Y/n.

(Real or Borhap! Roger. Whatever seasons your chicken.)

WARNINGS: Swearing, sLoW bUrN, EXTREME Mentions of sex, but again, No SmUt, mature romantic subject matter, I think that’s it. This one was a lil sad too.

Hun, this is about to be steamy, so this IS rated M. Read at your own risk, peeps, and if you’re under 18, maybe skip the ending of this one.

Roger pulled into his driveway, and after he took his key out of the ignition, rather than going inside immediately, he sat in the driver’s seat listening to the loud taps of raindrops hitting his windshield. 

 He rubbed his face stressfully, glancing over to the rather expensive bouquet of flowers along with the stupid, cliché heart shaped box which only contained the most expensive chocolate Roger could find in any London supermarket. 

 "If this is too much, she’ll kill me,“ he mumbled to himself before reaching for the purchases and pushing the door open. 

 And out into the rain he went. 

 He unlocked the front door after being completely annihilated with the heavy, stinging rain falling fast and largely from the stormclouds above. 

 He was able to make it into the house before the lightning began to strike, and as he toed off his shoes in the front hallway, his hair dripping with water, the low rumble of thunder vibrating the floorboards below his socks. 

 No matter, he was safe, and at home, and… something smelled really good.

 Roger removed his soaked jacket and hung it up on a hook in the hallway behind the front door before moving deeper into the dark house. The only light that could be seen on was in the kitchen, at the end of the hall. 

 He turned into the room and stopped in the threshold, taking in your lovely appearance as you wordlessly chopped up carrots, turned away and unaware of the visitor behind you. 

 Roger quietly set the flowers and chocolates on the counter before moving behind you, and after you put the knife down, he rested his freezing, wet hands on the back of your neck. 

 Almost immediately, your shoulders rose to your ears, and you let out a loud squeal, turning on your heel and shoving Roger backward, to which he laughed hysterically as he backed into the counters on the other side of the room.

 "You scared me!” You groaned before turning back to dinner stubbornly. 

 "Ah, Love, I’m sorry. The look on your face was priceless.“ He softly combed his fingers through your hair, pushing it to the side to leave a soft, warm, innocent kiss on the back of your neck, where he’d just placed his hands. 

 At the contact, you shut your heavy eyes and hummed gently in appreciation. 

"Make that noise again, and we may end up having a late dinner,” Roger mumbled hotly, and deeply. Your face burned when you felt the drummer’s lips curl into a devilish smile against your skin.

 "Y’know, I bought you something today,“ he continued on, and you swallowed nervously. 

"Yeah?” You squeaked, to which Roger hummed in return, his hands planting on your hips over your clothes to not disturb the warmth of your body with his freezing fingers. He gave your hips a little squeeze, and let another hum reverberate in the back of his throat.

Your cheeks glowed pink, and you wordlessly brought your thighs closer to one another. 

 Make that noise again, and we may end up having a late dinner, you thought to yourself.

 "Oh yes. Because you’re such a good girlfriend to me.“ And like that, his touch was gone. 

You opened your eyes, and looked over your shoulder, where you found Roger cutting the stems off the bouquet of flowers one-at-a-time. Your eyes fell to the heart-shaped-box, and Roger put the knife in his hand down to move the box closer to you. 

”’S’ll be our dessert,“ he smiled kindly. You offered a friendly smile back, your cheeks still warm from earlier, as you turned your attention back to dinner.

 "Y'know… if we even get there,” Roger finished. Your eyes widened and you turned your gaze back to him. The little bugger was back to cutting the stems off the flowers he bought you, his lips gently upturned in an innocent grin. 

 "… Are you okay?“ 

 "Hm?” Roger opened up one of the cupboards to retrieve a flower vase. He moved to the sink, ran the faucet, and began filling it with water. 

 "What are you talking about? I feel great.“ 

 "You’re just…” You squinted your eyes. “You’re acting really weird." 

 Roger shut off the faucet, and leaned back against the counter to look at you. 

He was giving you this look… it was like how he looked at you at the Garrison’s the week before. But there was something off about it. 

His gaze seemed… Darker.

 "Just getting my mind off things,” was all he had to say before picking the vase up from inside the sink and returning to the flowers on the counter. 

You tried your best to return your focus back onto dinner, reaching for another carrot to cut up. Meanwhile, Roger was dissolving the plant nutrients in the water.

By the time you reached the final carrot, the room was still quiet, and Roger, moving to pick up the bouquet and redirect them into the vase, paused his movements to look over his shoulder at you.

 Roger watched intensely as you moved around the little area you were working in. His eyes were fixed on the back of your head, but as time progressed, he began to find it difficult to keep his eyes from viewing lower, and lower… 

 "… Y/n, have I ever told you how pretty you are?“ Roger asked suddenly. You turned to him in startled confusion, and Roger made a face of regret. He mentally chastised himself for saying that. 

This was how he picked up women. You were not just a woman. You were much, much more than that.

 You laughed nervously, and awkwardly turned back to the carrot that had nearly been forgotten on the cutting board. You tried distracting yourself from Roger’s strange behaviour by dicing each carrot slice you prepared. 

 "You do realize you’re not in public, right, Rogie? You don’t have to be that nice to me." 

 "But I’m being serious.” The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board ceased again, and you finally dropped the knife to properly approach Roger.

 You crossed your arms over your chest and sighed in pretend annoyance, though the charade didn’t last long. 

“Alright. You got me. What do you want?" 

 "A favour." 

 "What kind of favour?” you challenged with a smile, one you’d tried to suppress, but gave in to. 

Classic Roger, you thought, King of bribery AND flirting.

 Roger opened his mouth to speak again, but the words were caught in his throat. 

He suddenly went pale, and your smile contorted into one of worry. “… Roger?”

 "O-um… well Y/n, y-you see, uh…“ Roger’s gaze fell helplessly to the floor as he stumbled over his words nervously, his cheeks growing hotter with every try. This especially worried you. 

 Roger was the most confident man you knew, and watching him be this hesitant about something really bothered you. In a case like this, you would have probably made fun of him, but you could see how stressed he must have felt, so you rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

 It was as if your touch was magic. Roger’s stuttering ceased, and he looked at you with big round eyes. 

Then he took a deep breath. 

"Y/n, I talked to the guys today.”

 "… About?“ 

 "Us. This…” Roger gestured to the house. “… Situation we’re in.” You both knew he was stalling from asking what he needed to, but you tried to keep patient. 

“Look, Y/n, I feel awful, and I know I made a promise to you about no groupies…" 

 ”… This is what this is about?” you asked dryly. “You not being able to have women over?“ 

 "What?! No! Well– yes, but–” you removed your hand from Roger’s shoulder and went back to cutting vegetables, the sound of the blade hitting the wooden cutting board getting louder and louder as time ticked on.

 All of that stuttering just for him to tell you he needed sex. Of course you were pissed off, and Roger knew that. You had a deal. In fact, he was horrified with himself. And now that you were angry, he was certain you would say no to the burning question he needed to ask. 

 "Then go.“ You told him sharply. "Go find someone to sleep with. Just don’t bring her back here. If you’re ever caught, we are done for." 

 Roger’s heart ached at your words. He tried to speak, but, like before, he couldn’t get the words out. 

He didn’t care if it was too late, he had to tell you he wanted you; that he needed you. 

 "Y/n," 

 "I said go!” You turned to him angrily as you shouted, and Roger could swear your eyes were glassy with fresh, unfallen tears, though you blinked them back stubbornly. 

 He breathlessly apologized, and rushed out of the house as fast as possible, leaving you alone in the kitchen, homemade pizza in the oven almost ready to come out, and a half prepared garden salad that would never be eaten.

_________________________________

 Roger stood in the candy section of the supermarket for a second time that day, red eyes scanning the shelves for something you liked. 

 Rather than listening to you and getting laid, he was more focused on rebuilding the relationship he was unintentionally tearing down. 

 He needed to apologize to you as soon as possible, and going empty handed, Roger decided, was not a good idea. 

 "Pissed off your girlfriend too, mate?“ Roger looked to his right to see another man his age, looking at the wide selection of romantically-wrapped sweets before him. 

 ”… Yeah, you could say that.“ 

 "Figured. See, in times like this,” the stranger began as he slowly walked down the aisle before reaching out and grabbing a cheap candy bar from off the shelf. 

“The best thing you can do is buy her her favourite candy bar, give her a kiss, and tell her how much you appreciate and love her.”

 Roger silently thought this to himself, and although he wanted to somehow thank the guy for his advice, he was already giving Roger an encouraging slap on the shoulder and exiting the aisle to pay for his girlfriend’s gift. 

______________________________

 When Roger got home it was just before midnight. He made sure to enter the house and close the door as quietly as he could in case you were sleeping. 

 After toeing his shoes off and hanging up his once again wet jacket, he went to the kitchen. There, he set a large bag of your favourite candy bars down on the counter so the rustling of the plastic bag didn’t wake you up. 

 He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his back pocket, and opened it to retrieve a new one. He mumbled a curse when he realized he only had two left, and he hadn’t bothered to pick any more up when he was in town more than once that day. 

 He just tossed the nearly empty carton on the table, and that’s when he saw the vase of flowers he neglected to finish preparing. 

They were placed and displayed beautifully and intricately; the definite works of a woman. Roger couldn’t pull off making such a display if he tried to do it on his own. 

 He guessed that was one reason to appreciate you: your creativity. 

 But he appreciated you for many other things. The list was just so long; if Roger had to name everything he appreciated about you, he wouldn’t even know where to start, and his rambles would surely never end. 

 He placed the cigarette between his lips, and wandered to the back door. He took his time getting there. 

There was no need to hurry. 

 He slid the door open a crack, and lit his cigarette with a lighter he’d left on the counter. 

 After the first inhale, and watching as he blew the smoke out into the wet, miserable night, Roger already began to feel a little better.

 He still felt guilty about his earlier conflict with you, but he planned out and repeated what he wanted to say to you to and from the supermarket. 

 "I don’t want just anyone. I want you.“ 

Like his journey home, Roger began mumbling the statement like a mantra between his draws of smoke. 

 After getting to the filter of the cancer stick, Roger flicked it outside before sliding the patio door shut and locking it. Afterwards, he went upstairs, prepared for bed, and went to his room. 

 There, he turned his bedside lamp on and retrieved a notebook, his book of lyrics and brainstorm ideas for songs, from under his pillow. He opened it up and began writing in it. 

 Hearing a knock on his door was the last thing Roger expected that night, but when you slowly walked in, and stared at him from your place at the door, he put the book down and gave you his full attention. 

 "Rog… Look," 

 "Y/n, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You pursed your lips, and Roger beckoned you over with his finger. 

You slipped into the room completely, and shut the door behind you. 

 When Roger felt the dip in the mattress, he reached out to touch you. He didn’t have an exact plan on what he was doing, so his hand fell to your back, and he decided to rub slow, soothing circles around your shoulder blades. 

 "… Y/n, I don’t want just anyone,“ he finally blurted out after a while of silence. 

You looked at him in confusion, and Roger’s hand stopped rubbing your back. The silence in the air was thick, and Roger tried his best not to start panicking again. 

"I uh…” He removed his hand from your back and awkwardly shifted in his spot. 

“I wanted to explain earlier that… that I wanted to um… maybe… talk to you about uh… adding onto this… this agreement." 

 The look you gave him was devastating. Big, sad eyes, and downturned lips. You felt guiltier than ever. You wanted to apologize for what you’d said, and how you acted earlier, but you didn’t even bother.

 Roger wouldn’t have allowed it, anyways. 

 "Yes…?" 

You asked gently, reaching your own hand out and placing it reassuringly on his thigh. Roger stared down at your hand for a moment, taking a shaky, deep breath. 

 ”… Don’t you think it’d… y'know… be easier if… we were friends but… helped each other uh…“ he couldn’t continue further than that. He tried, but he physically couldn’t say any more. 

 "Are you… suggesting what I think you are?" 

 "If what you’re thinking is that we can sleep with one another with no strings attached then yes.” His words rushed out of his mouth like a flood, and Roger felt as if he was overheating. 

He wouldn’t dare to speak, or move until you did.

 And he was glad to have made that decision. 

 You, after recovering from the shock of Roger’s confession, wasted no time in gripping Roger by the hips, and pulling yourself up into his lap. 

Roger exclaimed in surprise when you did this, and after wrapping your legs around his hips, your fingers slid back into his blond hair, and you kissed him with a hunger neither of you expected you to possess. 

 Kissing you, Roger decided, was better than he ever dreamed it could be. Your lips were soft; your kiss was forceful and controlling, only making this more enjoyable for him; and the way you were touching him– pulling his hair and tightening your legs around him– teased the absolute hell out of him. 

 And he loved every single passing second of it.

 Roger’s hesitation melted away quicker than he expected, and in no time one of his hands was gripping your thigh while the other held the back of your head.

You pulled at Roger’s hair harder, and a smirk played at your lips as he let a deep growl elicit from the back of his throat. 

You let your tongue slide past Roger’s lips and into his mouth, to which he made another, pleased noise. Both of his hands grabbed your hips, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the waistband of both your pyjama bottoms and your underwear beneath as he forced his tongue into your own mouth. 

 You encouraged him to continue when you whined rather loudly, practically begging him to kiss you like that again. 

 His confidence and ego only inflated from there. 

He moved the both of you around so you were lying beneath him, his hands on either side of your head. He dipped down to kiss and suck your neck like it was the only thing he knew how to do. 

 His hips lowered down onto yours, and you, without thinking, whined again and slammed your hips up to excitedly grind against Roger’s, who let out another deep, guttural moan. 

His hands tightened into fists as grasped his bedsheets beneath you and pulled at them tightly to restrain himself from either being too rough with you, or taking you right then and there. 

 In fact, he had to eventually force himself to pull back, but just enough to get a good look at you. He noticed your beautiful, untouched hair just waiting to be pulled; your hot, red face; your parted lips swollen from the assault of his own; and your quick, heaving chest.

 His eyelids lowered and he licked his lips. 

 You were the most beautiful thing he had ever set eyes on. 

 He shifted his hips around once or twice more, and when he watched you shut your eyes and bite your lip, he decided he couldn’t handle your erotic behaviour any longer. 

 "Fuck,“ he huffed deeply, hands releasing the blankets beneath you to grip your ass. You opened your eyes slowly, and smirked. 

You, of all people, had Roger Taylor hot, bothered, and completely at your mercy.

Roger reached over without breaking eye contact with you to retrieve a condom and a bottle of lube from the dresser in his bedside table, meanwhile, you clicked the lamp on the very same table off. 

 It was time to get to work, and see how beneficial this new addition to the deal would be for the both of you.

_____________________________

A/A/N: Man, I REALLY hope this chapter does well. Things are only gonna get better from here, and I promise! No more lacking!

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Okay so

I am so sorry for the users coming to me and telling me to put a "read more" link in my fic so the whole post doesn't run down all the way. I know this is annoying, and I apologize for the inconvenience at the moment. For some reason, when I insert a "read more" link, it sometimes glitches and disappears. I'm trying to fix this issue as soon as possible, and hopefully I can get that stupid button to work again.

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

Find Part III Here

A/N: Happy Early Valentine’s Day, Y’all! I wrote a lot for the next part of this series, so I decided to split them up in two chapters. I’m posting this one tonight, and the other will be up at some point tomorrow afternoon.

This chapter is in 3rd Person Omniscient for Rogie like the previous one, and the reader will not be in this chapter but the next one, so I apologize if it’s not that good.

Don’t forget to show your support and enjoyment for the fic by leaving likes, comments, and reblogging!

Summary: Roger has a chat with the band, and does some more thinking.

(Roger can be Ben Hardy!Rog or Real!Rog. Whatever stirs your soup.)

WARNINGS: Swearing, s l o w  b u r n, Mentions of sex (BuT nO sMuT [yet(?)]), no revision and editing bc I’m lazy, I think that’s it.

This one is leaning more towards an M rating than a T, so read at your own risk.

“Eh… no no no. Take it from the top. Roger?”

 The blond looked through the window to Freddie, who just made it to the practice. 

 He was wearing some ridiculous flashy outfit as usual, a pair of massive white sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose while an equally distracting burgundy coat made its presence known on the singer’s shoulders. Whether he wore a shirt underneath is still a mystery.

 In his right hand, Freddie held a steaming hot cup of tea, gripped tight by his long fingers, each nail painted black. From the waist down, although he couldn’t see, Roger wouldn’t be surprised if Freddie was wearing booty shorts.

 "You okay, Love?“ 

 He only responded with a simple thumbs up, and an unenthusiastic look on his face; and although Fred didn’t seem too convinced, the music started playing, and Roger tried his part again.

 "Been out of the flow all morning,” Brian informed the frontman, biting his thumbnail and crossing his legs from the wall he leaned against. “He got here, and didn’t count us in the first few times we played. Figured he needed some time to play for himself.”

 "Hm,“ Freddie acknowledged, taking a peek at some loose papers scattered around the control desk and taking a sip of his tea.

 "And how long ago did you two decide this?“ 

 "Forty five minutes ago,” John grumbled at his spot at the control desk, legs crossed, and head propped up with his hand in bore. 

 "We tried confronting him and he’s not speaking,“ Brian explained. “Gave you a call and no one answered the phone. We assumed you were on your way.”

 Freddie looked around the room, and he pointed at the second, empty seat at the control desk. “Where’s–”

 After another timing mistake, Roger flung his drumstick towards the window, shouting profanities when the stick just riccoched and hit him right back, and startling the other three men in the process. 

 "… Y/n,“ Freddie finished carefully, eyes wide and focused on Roger’s movements. 

 "We both assume she’s got somethin’ to do with it. He won’t say anything.” John mumbled with a shrug. 

 Freddie pursed his lips, and sighed, scanning the control desk for the PA system’s button. 

 "Rog, my Love. Just… put the drumsticks down.“

 Roger, who was about to send his second drumstick against the wall to meet the fate his first one did, lowered his arm slowly to his side, eyeing his band’s frontman in the window, who was twiddling his fingers at him. 

 "Good. Now, come on in here. We’re all gonna sit down. Have a chat.“ 

 Roger’s shoulders slumped, and he left the recording room so he could regroup with his three other bandmates. Roger just frowned. Just as he suspected, Freddie was sporting a pair of body shorts. 

 Freddie moved his eyes from Roger to the empty seat next to John. 

 The drummer dropped into the chair, letting it roll him a little bit away from the staring eyes of the others. 

 "The others here tell me you’ve been a little… upset, since you’ve been here this morning." 

 Roger scoffed, and tried to stand from his chair, but Freddie dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

 "I know there’s something wrong,” Freddie quietly mumbled. “We just wanna help you. Tell us what’s wrong, and you’re helping us, too.”

 Roger chewed the inside of his cheek, looking guiltily towards John and Brian. “… Hope you know I didn’t mean to shout earlier, yeah?" 

 "Kind of assumed so, yeah,” John offered a kind smile, to which Roger tried to return, but he just looked uncomfortable. 

 "It’s uh… it’s just, um…“

 "Is… y'know… is y/n okay?”

 Roger’s smile fell. “Wait, why? Why would she not be okay? Did you get a phone call from her?!” Roger stood up, “oh my God, is she okay?!”

 "Hey, hey, hey, calm down, calm down!“ Brian intervened, hands up. "She’s fine. We’ve heard nothing from her. We were just asking you.”

 Roger sat back down, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and sighing deeply. “Look, I’m sorry. Yes. Yeah, it is her. She’s… Driving me nuts right now.”

 "Why now? You two were perfectly fine last week.“

 "It’s been the interactions with the neighbours,” Roger complained. “do you know how hard it is not to start sweating every time we hold hands in public now?”

 John frowned. “But… You hold other girls’ hands all the time. Why would y/n be different?”

 "I don’t know! I don’t know and that’s why I’m like this!“

 Freddie smirked, and Roger could sense the glint in his eyes despite them still being covered by his sunglasses.

 "Seems to me,” Freddie popped his lips. “Roger’s in love with y/n.”

 John smirked at the thought, and Brian had this wide grin on his face Roger really wanted to slap off.

 "Fred, I really don’t think that’s the problem here–“ 

 ”‘Ts weird. I’ve always had a thing for y/n, maybe I’m in love with her.“ 

 "Seeing a girl naked by accident doesn’t mean you’re in love with her, John.” Roger snapped back nearly immediately, to which Brian chimed in: 

 "Funny how you’re the one telling John that when I had to say the same thing to you in high school.“

 Roger was mad, but he was even more embarrassed. His face was a deep scarlet, and Freddie wasn’t sure if the colour of Roger’s cheeks were because of his fury, or because he knew Brian was right. 

 "Come talk to me, Roger. Talk to the King of Love,” Freddie coaxed Roger with his index finger as he fell back dramatically on the sofa against the wall opposite the control table. 

 Roger simply rolled his eyes and relocated to the empty seat on the sofa by Freddie’s feet. The frontman kicked his bare legs out and crossed them over Roger’s lap while stretching this thin arms and placing them behind his head.

 "When’d this all start happening, Rog? I mean the weird feelings.“ 

 To this, the drummer simply shrugged. "Last week we had dinner at the neighbours’. The husband was talking about children, and marriage, and it was like…" 

 Brian and John raised their eyebrows expectantly. 

 "It was like I wasn’t acting anymore.”

 Freddie gave a knowing smile, and hummed gently. “Did you feel comfortable? Being domestic and romantic with her?" 

 "Fred, I’ve lived with those two for three years, and they have zero personal space.” Brian’s eyes moved from his reflection in Freddie’s sunglasses to the stressful gaze in Roger’s. “… is it different?”

 "Bri, I had women over all the time when we lived with you. I had no reason to have a girlfriend. I slept around, got the physical affection I needed, and she was just a friend…“

 John pursed his lips. ”Was,“

 Roger nodded a little, his eyes casting downward and burning holes into his already torn jeans. "Yeah. Was." 

 The blond suddenly looked up at his other bandmates. "We’re pretending to be a couple in a conservative, strict neighbourhood. It’s not like y/n would allow me to invite groupies home with us while catty neighbours spy on us from across the way. I’m not getting the physical attention I used to have, especially since sleeping around is impossible now." 

 The room then fell silent, and no one exactly made an immediate effort to say anything. 

 And then John gave a half-shrug. 

 "Why don’t you ask y/n?" 

 "Ask her what?”

 "Ask her to give you that attention,“ Freddie finished John’s point in a matter-of-fact tone. 

 ”No,“ Roger gasped. "No. No no no!" 

 "What? It’s a great idea,” Brian tried to reason. 

 "It’s bloody suicide! What would she think of me?! A sex-addict? A creep? A waste of time?“

 ”Roger,“ Brian stopped Roger’s listing. "She’s a single, gorgeous woman who loves you with all her heart, romantically-speaking, or not. You two already have this sort of secret commitment thing happening anyways but with housing rather than physical affection.”

 "And your point is…?“ 

 Freddie took over for Brian then with a sigh. "She has nothing to lose. You have nothing to lose. Why would adding onto your deal be a bad thing?" 

 To this, Roger didn’t respond. He didn’t have an answer. Freddie continued. "You sleep with women with no strings attached all the time. Living with your best friend while also bedding her doesn’t seem like a bad idea. What are you gonna do, catch feelings for her? You’re just horny.”

 "… Do you really think that’s all that’s wrong?“ 

 "That you’re stressed and just need a good lay?” John clarified.

 "Absolutely.“

 It was almost as if a weight had been lifted off Roger’s shoulders. All of his past issues were gone, out of his mind. 

He had nothing to worry about. 

 "There’s that smile we all needed,” Freddie gushed at Roger, who lowered his head in mild embarrassment. 

 "C'mon Rog. Let’s get to work.“ Freddie jumped up to stand before the control table, and Brian took a seat next to John. Roger returned to his drum kit inside the recording room, and after a count-in, Roger started drumming. 

 Needless to say, practice was flawless for the rest of the day.

_______________________________

A/A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed! Remember, new chapter up tomorrow!

@culturefiendtrashqueen @luvborhap @amy-brooklyn99 @scarsout @kimmietea @ohtheseboysilove @demo-wise @suavishowell @bohemianahoy @pippin248

Welcome to: How Much Of This Can Julia Read?

Freddie: 85%

Brian: 50%

Roger: 70%

John: I basically just fucking gave up. Like... 25% at best

QUEEN – True Confessions 1974 ★ Read the transcription here ★

I know a lot of people have different opinions about this, so I'm gonna post mine.

I just feel so blessed to know there are people out there who will take time out of their busy days to sit down and read my stories.

A like makes me giddy.

A reblog makes me smile.

A comment/reply has me bouncing off the walls.

The like and reply buttons are there for a reason. This isn't JUST a reblogging site, although it is helpful for other creators to share their work around for others to see.

But not everyone requires a reblog to feel proud of their work.

Hell, I get more inspiration and pride from my work from reading comments than taking a look at the number of reblogs my post made.

So I encourage you all to:

1. Like what you see.

2. Leave feedback and comments for writers to swoon over the next few days.

3. Reblog a work if you feel it NEEDS to be read by others.

This is just coming from me, a writer who gets excited if I get 10 likes on a post in two days, and then nothing for two weeks.

The smallest bit of support you give us writers leaves colossal impacts, and we thank the readers Tumblr-wide for a simple click of a button.

For someone like me, the button you choose to support me with does not matter.

Like, Reply, Reblog, whichever one you decide to leave, I will still be grateful a thousand times over for your support.

You know, this is why content creators end up abandoning their works, right?

80 likes compared to 10 reblogs means that only 12% of people decided that what you did is worth showing other people.

If you like the thing, reblog it. You don’t even have to add tags, just spread it so that a) other people can see it, and b) the creator gets recognition for what they did.

Obviously, those numbers are never going to match, but the divide should not be that huge.

It’s even more important right now, because tumblr is garbage and they’ve stopped allowing anything with an outside link from appearing in tags. Writers/artists cannot tag things to their twitter/store/writing website. That can cause a significant drop in views, especially for newer creators.

Like… we aren’t asking for much. A few reblogs. Reviews/comments. No creator should have to beg for that much.

People came up with more showerthoughts posts while being high than in the shower.

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.

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Hi if your going to write long stories and use popular tags can you PLEASE use the ‘read more’ function. I have to use tumblr mobile and for me it glitches when I try to scroll past something that long - thanks :)

I thought I added it when I posted it on my PC last night, and I must have backspaced it. I am so sorry! I will fix that as soon as I can!

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

Find Part I Here

A/N: Been a long time coming. I know it’s been literally half a year. I’ve been working through stressful family things, prep for university in the coming fall, spending as much time as I can with my boyfriend before we go our separate ways for a few months, etc.

 Stuff just got busy and I am SO sorry I haven’t addressed any of that. I know many of you want part two, and here it is. I don’t know if it’s as good as my other works on here, but the only way to find out is to post it, right? 

But anyways, yes, this chapter is here, and it’s kinda a filler. there’ll be more plot development in the next chapter, and I promise, if this part does well, I will not hesitate to post a continuation. 

Like I say in my other author’s notes, feedback, and any sort of note, whether it be a reblog, a like, or a comment, is greatly appreciated. it inspires me more to keep writing. So thank you!

Summary: Moving day is here, and you and Roger had the honour of meeting the neighbours across the street, the Garrisons.

(This can be read as Borhap!Roger or IRL Roger. Whatever mows your lawn)

WARNINGS: Swearing, mild sexual content (but NO smut), and zero knowledge of U-Haul History (I know they no longer exist in the UK, but I’m Canadian and I’m too lazy to do any research to make sure the timeline is matched)

Like the previous fic in this series, it’s rated a T for Mature Subject Matter

It was a bright, sunny morning in London (shocking, right?). 

The day would have been hot, but the wind chill cooled down the city rather nicely. 

Not only was this a wonderful day, but it was moving day. 

Roger was pushing the last box of vinyl records into the trunk of his car. He shut the trunk, and huffed a sigh before running his fingers through his sweaty hair. He didn’t remember the last time he’d lifted so much.

He took a minute to catch his breath, two ladies roughly the same age as him, jogging past. He drank in their appearances before winking at one of them and retreating to the apartment in which he and you once resided. 

He made his way down the hallway leading to your room, and although he was planning on going to the empty room that once was his own, he figured he could receive the same amount of nostalgia when looking at your now vacant bedroom. 

Roger found it so strange– The bare walls and stripped mattress. The empty closet and the unoccupied corners of the room. 

“Weird, eh?” Roger asked you, who was simply packing away the last of the books on your shelf. You turned to him, and he leaned against the threshold of your bedroom door, arms crossed over his chest. 

You shrugged your shoulders, glancing down at the floor and scratching the back of your head. 

“Just a little, yeah.”

Roger playfully pouted at you, shoving his hands into his jean pockets as he entered the bedroom. 

He looked around silently, and you went back to shoving your final books into its box before closing it up and labelling the cardboard. 

“I’m gonna miss this place,” you said, frowning at the realization that you’d already slept, ate, showered, cleaned, and cooked for the last time in this apartment. 

Roger took immediate notice of your upset tone. “Don’t get all melancholic on me now, y/n,” Roger teased, taking a seat right next to the box you just packed. 

“But won’t you?/" 

"Miss this place? Of course.” Roger smiled a little. “And Brian will miss us." 

”Oh yeah. He’ll definitely miss my awful singing in the shower every morning, and your extremely loud noises when you bring a girl over to bed.“ 

He just shrugged. "What can I say? I’m not about to fake being unsatisfied, especially when I’m trying to get a girl off." 

You shuddered. "I don’t wanna hear about your sex life, Roger." 

He laughed loudly, rising to his feet and picking up the box of books on your mattress. "Then I don’t wanna hear you complaining about how loud I am in bed." 

"You’re making it sound like we fuck,” you crossed your arms accusingly, your face twisting sourly. 

“Might as well be. We’re basically a couple.” He turned on his heel and left the room, but not before he sent a teasing wink your way. 

You simply shook your head, mumbling “gross” under your breath jokingly and moving to the bathroom to retrieve your remaining possessions in the medicine cabinet. 

_____________________________

“Are you sure you don’t need my help, guys? Christine isn’t going to get here for another few hours." 

"I think we’re all good, Bri,” Roger assured the tall guitarist, giving him a kind slap on the back. 

“But if we do, we’ll give you a ring,” you added, to which Roger smiled. He liked that about you. You were so humble, but weren’t afraid at all to ask for assistance. It was an admiring trait of yours. 

“Will do,” Brian confirmed with a grin and a simple nod of his head. You and Roger returned the nod, and walked to the car. 

After climbing in, and giving one last look at the apartment building the both you and Roger once called home, he drove you both off to your new humble abode.

____________________________

“We can just put it here,” Roger directed as the both of you lowered the piece of furniture on the floor. When it was set where the both of you wanted it, you plopped down in the chair on the other side of the living room, sighing loudly.

“It was real nice of Christine to give us some of her furniture,” you commented, watching as Roger collapsed on the sofa in exhaustion. 

“Well she’s got all Bri’s stuff now, right?" 

The question sounded more like a statement, and Roger wasn’t surprised when you didn’t respond. 

”… d'ya know what’s left to bring in from the U-Haul?“ 

"The mattresses and all the boxes from the car, I believe." 

Roger groaned, and got to his feet, much to his dismay. "Then we can rest,” he exclaimed with a sigh. You just smiled at the idea, pushed off from your place on the chair, and followed Roger out. 

He walked straight towards the moving truck and into the back, where one more box hid with the mattresses, which were now the only things occupying the truck. You, on the other hand, stood at the steps of the condominium, your eyes wandering around the complex. 

Roger, who was just about to pass you with the final box in his hand, bumped your hip playfully with his own before slipping away into the building. You turned to where he was a moment ago, smiling to yourself at the idea of just how childish Roger could be. 

Your eyes shifted to the right a little, and you caught the gaze of a man and woman who appeared to have been in their early to mid sixties, across the complex’s main stretch of road. You smiled, and waved at the couple, something you’d expect them to return. 

What you didn’t prepare for was when they waved back, and began approaching you to properly greet themselves. 

Your eyes widened and you began to internally panic. Roger was just exiting the front door, and you extended your wrist out, grabbing his arm tightly and pulling him back before he could go any further. 

You turned to face him, your expressions hidden from everyone but him. “Neighbours’ coming,” you warned in a hushed tone, your eyebrows bent in worry, and your bottom lip rolling between your teeth anxiously. 

“Hey, hey, nothin’ to worry about. I’m here. All you need to do is hold my hand, yeah? I can do all the talking." 

You let go of his arm after a moment, and he slowly curled his fingers around yours. He took a deep breath, as did you, before putting on bright smiles, and turning towards the neighbours, who just appeared from in behind the truck. 

"Hi! You two must be the new couple. Welcome to the complex! I’m Anna Garrison, and this is my husband, Charles." 

You and Roger branded the friendliest smiles you both could muster. You watched as Roger let go of you to reach out and shake the couple’s hands. 

"I’m Roger Taylor,” he introduced, glancing down and snaking an arm warmly around your waist. 

“… and this is my beautiful girlfriend, y/n.” You tried to ignore what Roger said despite feeling your face grow hot. You reached out and politely shook the Garrisons’ hands as well, keeping the smile plastered on your mouth no matter how much it ached. 

“I remember when we were that young and in love,” Charles mused in a soft tone. Conversations like this, Roger knew, you wanted to avoid at all costs, and he did as well. He was just… really good at lying. 

Although the Garrisons looked nice, there was something about them that made them seem rather nosey. 

And your suspicions were proven true when you watched Anna’s gaze fall on your bare wedding finger despite just hearing Roger and you were only “boyfriend and girlfriend”. 

“So… do you two plan on marrying soon? You may be young, but time does pass." 

You knew you should have remained quiet, but you began to panic, and you let out a laugh. "Yeah. We… we kinda talk about it. Not much." 

"We wanna settle in first,” Roger offered, knowing if he didn’t start talking soon, you would have said too much. 

You wondered how Roger could do that so easily: pretend, yet be so believable. You wondered if he simply tossed extra words in without thought. Like adding “girl” before “friend”, something he’d called you since you met. 

You wondered if he found it awkward to hold your hand, or have you so physically close to him. Then again, you two never exactly had/ personal space. 

You knew he had a method of doing this, but you couldn’t quite place exactly what he was doing, or how he did it so naturally. 

“Well, it’s gonna be nice, having another couple to have over for dinner." 

You could feel your throat swelling. If you made a list on everything you wanted to avoid doing with these neighbours in this complex that you were gonna end up having to do, a quarter of the list would have probably already been crossed off. 

"That sounds lovely,” Roger nodded politely, silently wishing himself that the day never had to come, for your sake. 

But it seemed Charles and Anna thought differently, and when the married couple made eye contact with one another, you and Roger just knew this invitation was not going to be forgotten about. 

“Why don’t you two come tonight?” Charles asked, to which his wife nodded in agreement. 

“Don’t worry about having to cook after a long day of moving in. I’m making a lovely casserole, and we can send you home with leftovers. There’s always too much for Charlie and I to eat anyways, with our kids having moved out and away long ago." 

Roger opened his mouth to politely decline the offer, but like a few moments before, you panicked and spoke again. "That sounds great, actually!" 

The blond looked down at you, and you could see in your peripheral that Roger seemed lost, though the Garrisons didn’t even notice. 

"Perfect! We’re right across the road. I suspect it will be done near six-thirty. Gives you two some time to yourselves after everything is moved in." 

"We’ll see you around six then?” Charles asked Roger, his old grey eyes wide and expecting. 

“Six it is,” Roger agreed, matching smiles with the older gentleman. 

“Six it is,” Anna repeated before linking arms with her husband, bidding farewell, and returning to their condominium. 

As soon as they closed the door, you tightly grabbed Roger’s wrist, and stepped inside your new home. When the door shut, you let out a long groan, bending your knees and squatting, your face in your hands. 

“I thought this is what you wanted to avoid!" 

"I know, I know, and I panicked and I fucked up and now we have to have dinner with them,” you whined helplessly. “You’ve known me for years, you know I do this all the time!" 

Roger, whose knees were bent, palms flat against his thighs as he thought, took a deep breath, and regained a neutral posture. 

"You know what,” he raised his hands in a calming sort of gesture. 

“It’s not as bad as you think." 

 "What do you mean "it’s not as bad as you think”?!“ You were horrified with Roger’s words. 

 "We do this once, and we never have to go back!” You raised your head from its once defeated position in your hands, but you could see Roger’s reasoning. 

"Oh my God…" 

"I know! Then we’re home-free!” He explained with a grin, his arms wide open. 

You leaned backwards, falling on your ass and leaning your head up against the wall in relief. 

“Oh God. We just gotta get through tonight.” You opened your heavy eyelids and smiled up at Roger. “We’ll be fine." 

 "Yes we will. Now, c'mon, Love. Let’s get those mattresses in here before someone takes notice we have different beds." 

And that’s exactly what you did. 

 And after the car was all unpacked, you and Roger took a well-deserved nap together on the couch.

_____________________________

A/A/N: Thank you all for your patience. Happy reading!

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Every single odd number has an “e” in it.

I posted this a year ago whY ARE MORE PEOPLE FINDING IT OUT OF NOWHERE??

I just remembered I have a tumblr to post my art on, jfc. Why not post my favorite drawing, then.

Roger Taylor in Queen’s MV of Somebody To Love

(If you want more, I mainly post my art on my insta @/julia.dowson.art)