Joe Mazello - Blog Posts

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

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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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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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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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Before The Lift (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

A Prequel To Lift Confessions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Queen.

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

Anyone with a right mind could see the appeal.

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

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

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

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

A lot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Effortlessly.

Gracefully.

Perfectly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dumbass. You know luck isn’t real.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that’s what happened.”

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

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

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

Or… was it his eleventh?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a metaphor, y/n!”

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

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

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

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

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

“To my final night in greater London.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty good Fred, and yours?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it worked.

He liked how pretty you looked when you were laughing.

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

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

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

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

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

“Unfortunately.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very funny, Rog.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then he felt yours stop.

“Y/n…?!”

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

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

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

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

“Steven, t’s not what it looks like!”

“Get in the car, y/n!”

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

“Get in the goddamn fucking car y/n!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer me!”

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

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

Something Steven wouldn’t have ever done.

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

“Fuck you,” he huffed at your boyfriend.

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

“No. Fuck you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never want to fucking see you again!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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