#ben hardy!roger taylor smut

[itsshawtyfellas]

I'm still not over how fucking hot Ben looked as Roger Taylor in borhap.

[thegreatwicked]

FicRecs

Enjoy some of my favorite stories I've come across on Tumblr! Seriously, I LOVE these stories and I reread them A LOT!

Please note: Virtually ALL OF THESE STORIES ARE SMUT. That means 18+ content, and you are responsible for managing your internet consumption. Minors DNI.

FicRecs

DC Comics

Dance for Daddy by @matth1w LAWD. I love me some Roman Sionis fics and this one DELIVERS. Sexy, kinky, smutty I give it a solid Chefs Kiss.

Joy Ride and Let Me Make You Feel Good, The Intern by @littleredwing89 More delicious Roman Sionis one shots Joy ride is about teasing Roman as he drives and Let Me Make You Feel Good is about a sweet smutty cure for a hangover. And the Intern, a fuck buddies to lovers story, god yum. Reader inserts. Drool. Go forth read and enjoy.

Bait the Beast by @more-cardigan-than-womanLord help me, I found a new little gem. You cause a bit of a ruckus with Coblepot and Roman thinks you need a lesson.

Yours by @tarrenterror25set in the AO! Verse Roman is having some trouble during the holidays overcoming everything the Joker did to him, good thing he has you. Because he does. You're his now. Melt. Sorry about the mess.

Star Wars

Water and Rock by @split-spectrum I honestly cannot say enough good things about this story It follows Obi-wan/Fem Reader in the classic Master/Padawan troupe and it. is. SPICY. Up to twelve chapters which I have read MULTIPLE TIMES and it hits so hard. Go read this story it is sexy as HELL and gives you the feels. She's so damn good at writing Obi-Wan it hurts, but like in a kinky good way.

The Gift by @ladyinwriting18 I have already spoke at length about the fabulousness that is Lady in Writing and her amazing content. This one is a favorite! Its a Maul/Reader Insert and it is smutty sxy and kinky. Seriously if Maul is your fictional crush (Hi me too!), go read this.

The Three Princes Part One: The Oldest Profession by @thenightmarketofdathomir This writer is freaking legendary. I do not know the collection of words in my own language to describe the eloquence and sophistication this writer possesses. Just go. Go read this and you let me know if you're ever the same again. This gem stars our boy Feral and is a you/reader insert. Oh damn, this story makes me want things...

Birthday Wish, Romancing the Pages, The Write Seduction, To Create Life, by @jedianjakenobi Y'all, this author holds a special place in my writer's heart. She's a published author on Amazon and she's truly amazing. Her works are all Obi-Wan-centered and reader inserts. Birthday Wish is a birthday crush from your sexy neighbor, Romancing the Pages is a fake relationship/summer romance with a reclusive shy librarian (Ben) and a best-selling author, The Write Seduction is a professor Kenobi/writing student story and it is SPICY. And my favorite To Create Life is a Jedi Council green lights a baby-making program and who else is the reader paired with? Their good friend Padawan Kenobi. My darlings, my friends, if you like Obi-Wan smut then you are doing yourselves a disservice by NOT reading these.

Empty Me Out by @221bshrlocked reader insert/DOM Obi-Wan I'm tellin y'all this story NEARLY killed me. I've lost track of how many times I've readit. You're an entertainer and Master Kenobi needs information from you, so you give him what he wants and then he gives you what you want. Where it Wasn't massage therapy reader insert/Obi-Wan, do I need to say more? Pretty sure I melted into the floor with this one.

His Loving Satine by @waterlily707 I love reader insterT and OCs but these two Obi-Wan and Satine are a joy to read. Temporary paralyzed Obi-Wan at the "mercy" of a slightly dom Satine. Juicy, gorgeous, little bit of fluff. Love it.

Room 24 by @murdockussy Little angsty Obi-Wan/reader insert enemies to lovers in an undercover assignment-type situation. Spicy, dom Obi-Wan give. Me. More.

Tea with Lemon, Tea with Honey by @wickedscribbles an established relationship as a reader insert and Obi-Wan. If you want honey then you get to take care of a sick Obi-Wan and kind out you have a new kink, if you want Lemon then Obi-Wan takes advantage of said kink and whisks you away to another planet for some R&R under the guise of "work." Enjoy!

Actors/Characters

Ben Hardy

Hold Me Close, Don't Let Me Go by @stray-kaz God. This one shot is just sxy as hell, it's a Billy/Four fro, 6 Underground/Female Reader. Our boy comes home to one hell of an 'I missed you, I need you right now' welcome. GO read it. Right now.

Such an Experience by @rogermyreligionOk. Guys... FUCK, this is a hot little oneshot Roger Taylor of Queen/Female reader and OMG. Just go read it. I've officially stopped counting how many times I've read this. Smutty/Sexy. I'm dead.

Long Distance by @acciotwinzwinz. Y'ALL. Sit your asses down and read this Roger Taylor/Reader insert/You. It's fluffy, its sexy, its cute and the smut is -chefs kiss- Yes, I read this one a lot too.

For now, these are some of my favorites that I frequently reread because I love them. I'll probably be adding more, it's more than likely I've forgotten some...

[illfoandillfie]

Kinktober Day 25: Punishment

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader x Roger Taylor

Words: 1,359

Warnings: threesome, dom!roger, sub!ben and sub!reader, hand job, spanking, cheek slapping, edging, punishment obviously, strap on, anal sex, oral sex (m receiving, reference to f receiving), reference to biting and nipple play, facial, cum eating

A/N: this is something of a sequel/follow up to a blurb from my 2020 advent calendar. It was inspired by a request i got aagggesss ago for a followup so hopefully whoever requested that is still around and sees it lmao.

You were giggling into Ben’s neck, hand wrapped around his cock, when Roger found you. You both looked up at the sound of his footsteps outside the bedroom, Ben jolting like he’d been caught. You just smiled at Roger, still stroking Ben off. “Hi Sir, wanna join?” Roger shook his head, leaning in the doorway, “I’m happy to just watch, love.” Ben’s breathing suddenly got faster, his eyes darting from Roger to your hand and back to Roger again, but you assumed it was just because he was turned on. At least until Roger spoke again. “Y/N, love, did Ben tell you?” “Tell me what?” You let your hand still, leaning back to see Ben more clearly. “That I put him on no touch.” “Shit.” Ben said, grinning guiltily, “I thought I’d get away with it.” You let go of Ben’s dick liked you’d been burnt, “I promise I didn’t know Sir.” “I believe you,” Roger finally entered the room, walking over to give you a soft kiss before he turned to Ben, hooking his finger through the loop on Ben’s collar. “But, Benny, if you’re gonna sneak orgasms we should make sure they’re extra good.” Ben whimpered. “He’s a bit of a slut, isn’t he princess. And very mean to try to trick you. If I’d walking in any later I might have had to punish you too for being an accomplice to his disobedience. So I think it’s only fair you get to help me teach him a lesson. Would you like that?” You nodded, eager to prove you were good and didn’t know you were breaking Roger’s rules, and a little hopeful that you’d get an orgasm out of the whole thing, “Yes please Sir.” Roger gave Ben’s cheek a small slap and then let him go with an order to get on his hands and knees, as he opened the bedside draw and pulled out a bottle of lube. “Here you go princess, why don’t you get him ready. Some on your fingers and some on the slut’s arsehole. Good girl.” Roger instructed you on fingering Ben – how to position your hand, when to add an extra finger, when to use more lube. And while you were, Roger resumed the handjob you’d started, edging Ben expertly as he cooed about making the orgasm so good. Ben could only whine and whimper, trying to apologise though he knew Roger wasn’t the type to just let it go.

When Roger had decide Ben was ready he handed you some wet wipes to clean your hand and told you to go and get your strap on while he had a word with Ben. The strap was something he’d bought after Ben had joined the relationship and had admitted to fantasising about being pegged, and it had been instrumental in a few fun nights. As you adjusted the harness, you couldn’t help but watch Roger and Ben. Roger was being careful to keep his voice low so you couldn’t really hear what he was saying but Ben looked suitably subdued and apologetic. That didn’t stop Roger from laying a sudden hard spank on Ben’s arse, loud enough to make you jolt and hurry to return to them. “I’m sorry Sir,” Ben whimpered, screwing his eyes shut as Roger lined up for a second spank. “As you should be.” Was all the reply Roger gave before his palm came down again, “You’re ready Y/N?” You swallowed and said yes quickly, not wanting to end up on the naughty list with Ben. “Hear that Benny? She’s all ready to fuck you. Why don’t you give her cock a kiss before she does.” Ben nodded and scrambled forward on his knees to press his lips to the tip of the dildo. “At least you can follow some instructions.” Roger beckoned you around to Ben’s backside, giving you a soft kiss to reassure you that Ben was the only one in trouble. He double checked you were ready and then said, “Alright princess, give the slut your cock.” You nodded and reached for the lube to slick the dildo with, squirting a little extra on Ben. Roger watched closely as you eased the tip of the cock into Ben’s arsehole, your movements slow but deliberate as you penetrated him. It wasn’t your first time doing so but it was something you were still relatively new at. Consequently, you didn’t want to rush. Roger had other ideas though. He knelt behind you, pressing his lips to your neck as he grabbed your hips. “You’re not doing it right princess. Ben’s an anal slut remember, he can take so much more.” He pushed your hips forward, forcing you deeper into Ben.

Roger kept a firm grip on you, pushing and pulling to show you how to fuck Ben. When he was satisfied with the pace and that you could maintain it on your own, he let you go, moving around so he could grab Ben’s weeping cock and edge him at the same time. Every so often you were instructed to spank Ben or to bite his shoulders, to tease his nipples, to fuck him harder or stop altogether when he was too close. Ben moaned and whined. He babbled out apologies to Roger and begged to cum, promising to behave. But Roger wouldn’t let him go so easy. He made sure Ben was crying from desperation before he stopped the edging and stood up. You kept pounding into Ben, waiting for Roger’s instruction as you watched him get up and undo his fly, pulling his own hard cock out of his pants. Ben must have been watching too because he opened his mouth, letting his tongue hang out. Roger leant forward to slap Ben’s cheek, “you don’t deserve it slut. You’d enjoy it too much. This is for Y/N.” You stopped fucking Ben, smiling with pride as Roger brushed his knuckles down your cheek and called you his good girl. “You want Sir’s cock?” “Yes please, Sir” Roger guided you down onto his shaft, his hand resting on your head though he let you take your time. You felt a little bad for Ben who had to kneel there, arse full of cock, getting nothing, while he listened to the wet sounds of you blowing Roger. But it was hard to feel too bad for him when you remembered he could have got you into trouble too.

Roger let you go until he was close and then stopped you, apologising. “Feels so good princess, but I have to make sure Ben gets properly punished.” You pouted at little when you realised you weren’t going to get his cum but you knew better than to argue. Instead you watched, jealously as Roger stood before Ben, stroking his dick until he grunted and came over Ben’s face. You would have thought it was a bad punishment except that Roger called you over to lick Ben clean, letting you have all the cum and Ben have none. You pulled out of Ben and eagerly followed Roger’s instruction, dragging your tongue along Ben’s cheeks and lips, scooping it up with your fingers and sucking them clean, until you’d swallowed every drop. While you were distracted with your task, Roger had removed the stap from around you, setting it aside as he chuckled about how much of a cum whore you were. “Thank you Sir!” you said, making sure you’d got all of it off your fingers. “You’re very welcome, princess. But Ben’s going to apologise to you now. He was wrong not to tell you he was on no touch and he could have got you in a lot of trouble. So he needs to make it right. And he’s going to do that by eating you out.” “I will Y/N, I promise.” Ben said, still teary. “Mmhmm. He’s going to give you two big orgasms. If he doesn’t then he’ll be on no touch for a week and I’ll edge him for a week more.” “No, please Sir, please I’m sorry.” “I know you are, you’ve already apologised to me. Now apologise to Y/N. Spread her legs.”

[bohemiansweede]

Xmas Fics

Here are my Xmas fics with the Bohrap boys

Enjoy and be safe out there

Warnings 🔞

A/N please like and reblog or leave a comment

Thank you

On the naughty list

A total surprise

Not alone for Christmas

Christmas party

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️Enjoy also my Queen novel collection

[har-rison-s]

hypnotize

request: Alright, you are lovely! So, my request is Ben!Roger coming back home after weeks and the reader preparing a special night for them, including a striptease with music and all. Then, an awesome night of sex and love and talking.

A/N: Let's pretend that Hypnotize by Notorious B.I.G./Biggie Smalls already existed in the 70s cause I DIG that song and it makes me think about Roger, it's a fitting song for him in my mind. Hope this meets your standards. Happy reading!

warnings: I don't usually put up warnings in smuts, and this is no exception. I like to surprise people ;) also this is quite long

main masterlist

borhap masterlist

borhap!roger masterlist

Tours that I'm not able to go to are the worst. There's the doubts, the neediness, the stress, the daydreams and the longing. That one's the worst. Sometimes I feel like tossing and turning around in my bed because I miss Roger so much. I miss talking to him, waking up to him, eating together, going to his shows and rehearsals.

Of course, I miss his touch and his hands and his other physical, god-like gifts. The sexual frustration makes me crazy, as well. Not like I don't want to touch myself when he's not here because 'no fun without your man'. It's because I don't want to. Rather wait for him than do it myself. Maybe I'm lazy?

But, Roger's finally coming back home tonight from Queen's UK and Europe tour, and I couldn't be more excited. Nerves are taking a hold on me, and, even thinking that I'll see him in a couple of hours makes me shiver. Cliche, of course, but I'll be wearing his favourite underwear set under my flowery dress. And—another cliche—I'm making dinner and putting on a show afterwards. It's the least I can do for my boyfriend being the wonderful man he is. 

“Now, now, there's the usual hook-up check.” I say, stretching the skin of his face softly here and there, checking for any trace of another female that might be left on him, even if accidentally. I've waited for them at the airport for what seemed like forever, and now, finally being able to hold him, I still can't resist my natural instincts. 

His band mates snicker at my check, and Roger sighs quietly, not resisting and just waiting for the whole thing to be over. No lipstick trace, no hickeys, no puffy lips and no marks at the roots of his hair—also no hair pulled out—he's clean. I leave his head alone and then press the longest kiss to Roger's lips I can remember us sharing between ourselves. I've missed him too much. I feel Roger completely relaxing against my lips, his arms tightening around my torso and pulling my chest closer against his. My boobs feel squashed.

“I've missed you.” Roger whispers when he pulls just a mere centimeter away, watching my lips as he traces his thumb over them. A tear rolls down my cheek, I can't believe he's really here again, although it's been three months—some might say 'only'. I smile wide at him.

“I've missed you more.” I reply. Our foreheads touch and I close my eyes, just enjoying this particular moment. 

“Two can play at that game, missy.” Roger says and I hear the smirk adorning his lips and giggle. Not so privately, he slaps his hand down on my bum and I shriek. “Let's get us home.” He says and I give him a smile. We turn around and say goodbye to the guys. We walk past them to get to an available taxi that will bring us right home.

Roger sighs once he and his suitcase have arrived home. I smile to myself, locking our apartment door and turning back around to Roger. “I hope you're hungry.” I say and Roger turns to me. He's put his jacket on a hanger and has quite the clueless look on his face. I grin and take his hand, pulling him towards our kitchen.

“I am. And very tired, as well.” He says and tugs along with me. I stop both of us at the table and Roger gasps quietly. I look at him, my head turned to him, and grin. He's seen the dinner and some silly decorations I chose. Nothing, really, but I liked them and thought they'd suit the occasion well. “Wow, baby.” Roger says and pulls me closer by my waist, pressing a kiss against my temple and I giggle. “Thank you, oh my. This looks wonderful.”

“So let's jump right in.” I say and walk over to the table, sitting down. Roger looks at me for a moment, and I raise my eyebrows. He walks over to the table to sit across me, and does exactly so. 

“I feel like we're in a restaurant.” He admits and we both chuckle, exchanging playful glances. “This might be nothing for you, but wow... Pasta with meat, tomato sauce, greens, and—what's this?”

I laugh at his confusion. “White carrots.” I say. He says it might be nothing for me because of my profession - I'm a chef at a restaurant. I make food for the two of us when either I have time on my hands or when we have a special occasion. It's a natural thing, but I like to leave most of it at work and not bring work home.  

“White carrots?!” Roger echoes and I nod. “What the hell are those?”

“They exist, believe it or not.” I reply and Roger laughs.

“Thought carrots were only orange.” He admits and I nod again. “Sorry I'm not that educated on the fancy vegetables, love.” He says and looks at me with sorry eyes, but I shake my head at him. 

“Bon appetit!” I say, taking my fork in my hand.

“Bon indeed.” Roger replies and takes his, as well. He digs into his portion immediately and moans. I watch his reaction, similar to the one he has when I go down on him, and it's bound to graze my eyes many times tonight. I smirk at that. “God, this is so good, Y/N. I might have just come in my pants.” He says and I watch his face while I laugh, but his is full of seriousness.

“Well, glad you like it.” I reply and take a few mouthfulls of the pasta as well. “It really is good.” I state and Roger nods.

“It's amazing, baby.” He says. “How did I get so lucky with you, huh?” Roger asks and nudges my foot with his. I grin, looking at him for exactly a split second. “You look wonderful today, by the way. Love this dress.” He says and I blush, wanting to hide it with my hand, but failing. Roger's got a smirk on his face as he keeps eating his pasta. “Hope dessert includes the dress on the floor.”

“Shut up.” I laugh quietly and straighten my back. “So, how was Europe? Well, half of it...”

“Strange, really. A lot less people than we have here.” Roger responds. I nod, listening for more. “And all of them can talk english—it surprised us, even the sweds!”

“You sound a bit arrogant, Rog.” I state and he sighs. 

“Just a culture shock! Nothing more,” he assures and I nod playfully, “ah, but the crowds and the welcoming was incredible.”

“Did you try any national foods?” I ask and he nods.

“I did! I photographed most of them, got the pictures in my case.” Roger tells me and I hum appreciatively. “Most of them were alright. Some were just crazy and too much other-wordly for me. Brian liked the ones that didn't have meat a lot. And there were few of those.” Roger says, raising his eyebrows. I chuckle. “And have you seen french and italian men? Christ! If it wasn't for you, I'd have nothing left to lose and—”

“Turn gay?” I finish his sentence, and scoff out a laugh. Is he serious?

“Yeah. You have to see those specimens.” He says, fully serious. I keep laughing, the thought of Roger looking at men with heart eyes makes me amused like nothing else. “Laugh at me all you want, but they're damn attractive.”

“Okay, Rog, do I have to fear that you'll run back off to some french barista?” I play along. Roger laughs and he shakes his head.

“Just have to keep me.” He answers. “Perhaps we could go for vacation to France.” He looks at me and I raise my eyebrows, nodding.

“My dream would finally come true, then.” I say. “Working in a Paris restaurant, living somewhere in a french cottage outside the city. Having the 'French diet' for breakfast, lunch and dinner.” Roger looks at me confused.

“The 'French diet'?” He repeats. I grin.

“Coffee, cigarettes and sex.” I explain. Roger hums and nods.

“That does sound quite nice.” He admits and I chuckle. 

“Maybe a croissant here and there.” I say. Roger laughs. “Any new songs coming?”

Roger raises his eyebrows and tilts his head from side to side. “Yeah, I got some ideas, but not a song.” He says. “How have you been?”

I shrug and push another mouthful of pasta down my throat. “Nothing big.” I say. “Oh! One time there was a bachelor party at our place and guess what they ordered from us.” I look at him with a dead-serious face.

“The fianceé's portrait on a cake?” Roger suggests. I shake my head.

“The stupid cliché - a dick cake.” I answer and Roger bursts out laughing. “I know.” I say and shake my head, laughing as well.

“Didn't even know fancy places like yours did dick cakes!” He says and I laugh even more. 

“The worst part was,” I say and point my fork to myself, “I had to do it.” 

“Christ!” Roger exclaims and laughs again, throwing his head back. “Can't believe you had to go through that torture. When was it?”

“Uh, last Saturday.” I say once remembering. “And that was also the night we had the most costumers and I got a fish dropped on me.” I admit. Roger makes a disgusted face at me.

“Poor you, love.” He says with sympathy. I show him my tongue, which he smiles at, and look back down at my food. “Right, I'm already finished.” Roger says and leans into his chair with his back.

“Alright.” I stand up and walk over to the fridge, taking some whiskey and ice from it, and two glasses from the cabinet up above. I feel Roger's stare on my thighs, I know exactly what he's hungry for, what he's been missing for weeks on end. I grin and turn around, trying to get the satisfaction of it off my face. 

“Aw, no, I should've got that.” Roger starts to say, but I shake my head. “You've done enough already.”

“I ain't done yet, darling.” I say and place our glasses down on the table. Roger gives me a curious raise of an eyebrow and watches me pour the whiskey into the glasses. I put two ice cubes in each glass and sit back down, wrapping my right hand's fingers around my glass. “When do you get your next vacation?” I ask after taking a sip.

Roger squints and takes a gulp from his glass as well, continuing to eat his pasta. “Probably after we finish our album.” He replies, but then opens his eyes wider. “Oh, no, sorry. It's now.” Roger finally says and I laugh. “Forgot for a moment where we are in the year.”

“That's alright.” I say. “We should do something together with the time we have, then.” I suggest and lean back in my chair, and Roger does the same. I notice his plate is empty and immediately rise back up, taking both our plates in hand and bringing them to the sink. 

“Now, those I will definitely do.” Roger says and I hear him get up from his chair, but I turn around quickly.

“Roger, just relax.” I say and point to the exit of our kitchen. “Go to the living room, alright?” I ask of him and my hand drops to my side. Roger watches my eyes for a moment, searching for any faltering or unseriousness, but there's none to find. 

“Yes, ma'am.” He answers and is off to the room in seconds. I chuckle at his eagerness and turn back to the plates. I scoff then, and put the plates in the washing machine. I ain't doing no dishes tonight.

I walk into the hallway where our record player stands and choose Roger's favourite sexy vinyl. I chuckle at that and remember the moment he called it that. I put the vinyl on the player and slowly put the needle on the vinyl. I love the sound of the vinyl's scratches before the music starts playing, and during the songs. It makes the whole listening experience much better. 

The heavy beats of Notorious B.I.G.'s first song on the album play through-out our walls, and I close my eyes as I walk towards the living room. Roger's standing in the middle of it, and I lean against the doorframe. 

“Sit down, love.” I say softly, which surprises him and he turns around. He eyes me up and down and then does as told. I don't like ordering or commanding him, it feels stupid when I tell him to do anything. There's a strange feeling in me when I do, but I don't mean it in a commanding or bossy way. This time I mean it differently.

Roger sits down and watches me walk over to stand in front of him, he then realises what song is playing—Hypnotize—and his head moves to the beat naturally. I smile at the response and shake my hips a little. Just a snippet from what I usually dance like when I'm home alone and this record is on. 

His legs are parted slightly, and his hands are by his sides as he watches me move slowly over to him. My legs move slowly, and it's torturing him but also turning him on. The tent in his white pants is growing by the second, I grin. 

I put my hands on his knees and spread them wider apart. While I run my hands up and down his thighs, I raise my head to watch his face change. His eyes are completely taken over by desire, barely keeping his beautiful orbs on me. 

“Does this feel like home, Rog?” I ask sweetly, stopping my hands where his thighs meet his hipbones, gripping his thighs tightly. He whimpers and nods, his hand reaching up to take my cheek and bring it closer to him. My lips fall on his—the moment I've waited for all evening—and I sigh against Roger, completely melting into him. But I pull back and stand up, barely holding myself on my feet. I can't wait to have him all over me, holding me, inside me.

I pull my dress ever so slowly over my body, moving my hips from side to side once in a while. I hear Roger moaning once while the dress still goes over my head, and when it's finally on the floor, Roger's jaw drops to the floor. 

I stand before him in the pink set of underwear that Roger so much loves, my hair moved over to the side from the dress. Roger's head hangs back against the sofa and he groans softly. “My god, baby...” He whispers, moving his leg around so his turn-on would feel more comfortable in the strained pants, and then looks back at me. I grin and stride back to him.

My legs are on each of his sides, straddling his lap, and I put my hands on his shoulders, then moving them up and down his biceps. I look into Roger's eyes and smile again. “Welcome home, Roger.” I say and kiss him. My hands go up to his cheeks, holding his face so that I can kiss him better.

Roger's hands are uncontrollable, they're moving over my bare back and waist in a quick pace as he pants between our slow kisses. I still want to tease the shit out of him, because nothing gives me an ego-boost like seeing him whimper and weaken because of me, under my touch. I kiss his lips slowly, stretching the moments in which our lips are parted, and then delve back in. I slip my tongue between his lips and Roger moans loudly, his grip tightening on my hips. 

I move them against his thighs slowly, barely reaching my clothed core against his about-to-burst hard-on. Roger started to trail kisses down my neck, but my movements distract him and he hangs his head back against the sofa. I can't lose his attention on me, although I can't really complain.

“Roger...” I call for him and he looks at me with raised eyebrows, “please give me more.” I ask and bite my lip, feeling something building up in the depths of my core. 

“What do you want, baby?” Roger asks and moves his hands down to my thighs, going up and down. I whimper, craving more of him and his touch. 

“Touch me.” I whisper and my fingers slip past the borders of his pants, slipping inside his boxers. Roger stiffens when I grab onto his length, but lets out an animalistic groan when my hand moves up and down. 

“Fuck, love,” he says and sits up straighter so he'd have a more comfortable reach. Roger moves his right hand down to my underwear and wastes no time, reaching right past the elastic and in between my folds. I fall against Roger's chest and his assault on my clit brings my hip movements to a stop, “like that? You like it when I touch you like that?” 

I nod and moan against his neck, my lips stopping open in a kiss on his skin. With his other hand, Roger helps me move my hips up and down on his hand in a certain rhythm, bringing me closer and closer to the edge, but it keeps slipping away. My hand keeps slowly pumping him, and Roger returns moans and grunts to me in response. His two fingers are digging into me and he curls them, which makes me release a sound similar to a scream. 

Roger reaches his free hand to my face and moves my face from his neck to above him, making our eyes connect. “Are you gonna cum, baby?” Roger asks in a challenging manner. I nod again, and my orgasm feels so close I can practically reach out and touch it with my fingertips. Roger shakes his head. “You're not coming unless it's on my cock.” He says and his words bring me to the edge. If it wasn't for him pulling out his fingers, I would've really come, but now I have to hold it in. 

I pull my hand out of Roger's jeans to help him rid of them, sitting down next to him. I would have stood up, but my own legs are too wobbly. Roger takes off his boxers and immediately pulls my underwear down, as well. He stands up and lifts me off the sofa before laying me down on the floor. I give him a careful glance, but Roger just winks.

“There's not so much room there, is it?” He asks and leans down to me, his elbows resting on the carpet at each of my shoulders. His eyes are so hooded it seems he'll fall asleep any second now, and he only watches my eyes, his finger stroking the side of my face. “I could lay here and look at you like this for the rest of my life...” he admits, his voice sounding like a high pitched whisper. His falsetto is showing. I breathe out a chuckle and then stifle it immediately.

“Are you going to stare at me or fuck me?” I whisper, my thumb going over his sideburn while my fingers thread through his curls. Roger immediately shuffles his legs around and grabs onto my hips roughly, making me whimper and my back lifts off the carpet. 

“Think we both know the answer to that, princess.” He says and I feel him pushing his length inside me slowly until he's filling me up completely. Roger relaxes against me once he's all the way in and groans heavenly. I watch his eyelids flutter and his lips part, and I trace my thumb over his lower lip softly. “Fuck, I've missed this.” Roger says and his head falls against my chest. My hand drops onto his back and I breathe out deeply, moaning at the very end at how he feels inside me. I've missed this, as well, Roger being so good to me in every way he can. Touching every inch of my walls with his cock. 

“Please, move.” I beg him and Roger lifts his head in a second, grinning at me. He pulls out and then moves his hips back against mine, filling me up again and I throw my head back from the horribly ecstatic feeling. My hands tug at Roger's back and he presses kisses around my clothed breasts while his thrusts in and out of me increase their pace.

Roger puts his hands on the back of each of my thighs and hikes my legs up higher so that he can go even deeper into me, and he succeeds. The moan that leaves my lips is so high-pitched I fear that he may not top it even with his falsetto. My pelvis hurts from the spread, and I realise that our time apart has payed off badly. I'm not as used to him as I was. God, why? Why me?

“Roger,” I call for him softly, my voice laced with uncomfortablity, and he looks at me with furrowed brows. He notices the slightly pained expression on my face and halts his movements.

“What is it, baby? What did I do? Did I h-hurt you?” He asks and I nod barely noticably, there's even a tear at the corner of my eye. Regrettably. I've waited for this for three whole months. Stupid—“We can stop, I'm sorry.” Roger says and pulls out of me, and I whine at the loss of him. I feel so miserable now, so stupid. I wanted this, I didn't even think my body forgot... things. “Aw, don't cry, my love.” Roger says, but it does the opposite of stopping some stupid tears falling. I sit up and wipe them off quickly and look at Roger. My hand immediately reaches out to stroke him, and Roger wants to let me, but shakes his head. “It's alright, love, you don't have to—“ he interrupts himself with a sigh as I move my thumb over his tip, “go on.” Roger encourages me. He knows what he wants and needs, and also that I'm very stubborn.

I work his hard length and it makes Roger's forehead fall against my chest, only my name and heavy breaths leaving his lips. He tries to kiss my skin, but his kisses fade every time he starts. What does the trick and makes him come in seconds—he's already very impatient tonight and won't last long, I can tell—is me running my tongue over his lips and licking over his own. Roger comes, moaning my name in a high-pitched and high-volumed whines, his body shaking in short spasms, and I feel his cum already shooting out of him. I quickly move to sit in his lap and bend my back over his leg, letting his white ribbons decorate my bare stomach.

Roger almost loses his consciousness at the sight before him—me laying over his leg, his cum all over my stomach and my eyes watching his intently. My breasts are pushed up and my hair is sprawled all around my head. He thinks I'm a work of literal art, I can read that in his barely open eyes. 

“Fuck.” He says in a breathy whisper. Roger's hair is wild - the closest strands to his face are sticky with sweat, but the rest are going in every other direction. I sigh and chuckle, and Roger looks down at me with a grin, his eyes dreamy. He's on his knees, leg pulled up from underneath me, and looking menacingly down at me. “Might need to repay the favour, eh?” He asks and leans down to my level. I nod. 

“But not now.” I say before he can do anything. I'm still too sensitive. He raises an eyebrow at me, and then moves to lay next to me on his back. 

“Mind telling me what was the matter?” He asks, turning his head to look at me. His hand sneakily reaches for mine and laces our fingers together. I look down at them, and then quickly at him, but returning my eyes to the ceiling afterwards. 

“It hurt when you spread my legs apart.” I tell him. “I guess my body has forgot what it felt like having you inside me.” I admit and huff. 

“We have time to remind it.” Roger smiles and I chuckle breathily. 

“Didn't even think something like that could happen.” I say and then shake my head. “I'm sorry, Rog, that your welcome home present failed. I thought everything would be perfect...” Roger shakes his head now.

“It is perfect.” He says. “Believe me, it can happen to anyone, the body just... has a vacation.” Roger explains and I giggle at his choice of words. “Just do more stretches and read it up in your girl magazines. Don't be sorry.” I keep giggling. “Hey, I mean it. Don't you laugh!” 

“Sorry, love,” I reply and look at him. He smiles wide at me and I return the gesture.

“Love you so much, Y/N.” He says, holding onto my cheek with his palm. “Don't you ever think you're any less than perfect, my girl.”

I smile into his hand and kiss the inside of it softly. I kiss up his hand until the middle of his forearm and then kiss his lips. It's sincere and full of love and understanding. “I love you, too.” I say. “I'm so glad you're home.”

Roger pulls me even closer to him by my waist. “'M glad to be home.” He admits and I smile wider, getting comfortable with my head against his chest. “Are we gonna stay here forever, then?” Roger asks, breaking the comfortable silence and I laugh. 

Permanent taglist:

@v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen

[freddies-yellow-jacket]

The Killer Queen - {Roger Taylor X Reader - PART 1}

[PART 1] [PART 2] 

Warning[s]: Vulgar Language [This story will contain smut in the future so it’s 18+]

Word Count: 3,9K

Summary: Roger meets a girl on a very ordinary day but she’s far from ordinary. In his eyes, she’s a cocky yet fun and innocent girl but there is something mysterious to her. Curious about that, he asks her to meet again. Little does Roger know just how deep and dark her secret is or that she is working hard to distance herself from her true self. After all, she’s a Killer Queen and if he did her wrong, her boys would come for him whether she liked it or not.            [Mafia Princess!Y/N x Roger Taylor] !!!!! [Also, I decided to make a fictional father for you because not everybody has a father and I hate writing Y/F/N all the time] !!!!!

Author’s Note: I am so excited about this! I hope you are too. If you wish to be tagged, let me know! :)

Your P.O.V.

It happened again. No matter how many fucking times I told them no, they didn’t listen. They refused to let me go and live my own life. If I tried to be alone for one weekend, I’d find security guards after me. If I tried to tell them I wanted to leave, they would find ways to scare me so I’d stay. My life was going in a circle and I felt like that circle would dig my own grave.

“You’re my daughter, Y/N. This is in your blood. You are born into this life”, my father told me the same exact words I had heard on a daily basis since I found out the truth about my family. The truth about me. The truth about my father’s money, his hate for the law and police, the days and weeks he was gone when I needed him the most, everything! Years of wonders were getting their answers which I wasn’t fond of at all, not the slightest bit! 

On that day many years ago, I was 17 turning 18. My father explained to me how I was going to inherit his hard earned privileges. He told me how his business wasn’t a security business. He wasn’t a legally successful entrepreneur who had worked his ass off for years for his family. No.

My father was a mafia boss and his men were the most wanted men in all of Europe. He was the King of crime in England and his businesses had reached other countries. My father pulled the strings of the underworld how he wanted things to go as if the world was his playground. His ways sickened me yet he wished for me to marry someone on the inside to remain in this worthy position even after his passing, which I hoped was soon. Worthy my ass!

I was a mafia princess!

I had no way out of it. If I left, I’d be all on my own. So, ever since I was 18, I had seen the ugly side of the world and my roots were deep in it. Now I was in my early 20s and my father has made sure I had all the skills any mafia woman would need.

He had taught me to get out of locked situations,

how to steal,

how to stay silent if I was kidnapped,

how to handle my weapons,

how to kill - but god, I would never sink down on that level!

It made sense to me now why he wanted me to learn self-defence as a kid. It all made sense! I was stuck to this horrible reality and every day I searched for a way out of it. This day was not unlike any other.

July 1973

For some odd reason, the sun decided to shine all day which made it hot as fuck. It was July afternoon and I was driving around the countryside outside of London. I was dressed in a red blouse that was tucked into a white skirt, my boots were black but rather classy and I had red lips and a soft brown eyeshadow look on. The scent of cherries was radiating into all directions around me. My father got me a cherry perfume from Paris once that I liked, although I hated my father’s guts. I was sitting in my red 1966 Chevrolet Chevelle Malibu, that was still good although it had a few years of age and a history of small accidents. I was cruising the bumpy road with a speed way too high according to the limits but I couldn’t care less. As I drove and listened to my music, I forgot the world. The green fields and few trees were all around me which was perfect. This is why I loved the countryside! I felt like a free woman.

Elton John’s Rocket Man was playing and I absentmindedly slowed down my speed. With my windows rolled down, I felt the wind in my hair and the smell of manure stinging my nose. The heat was definitely not helping at all but I could handle it. I had smelled the stank of death a few times which was way worse. Then I saw it. On an otherwise quiet Saturday, I saw a simple van on the side of the road and a couple people outside it, obviously arguing about something. They were probably having car issues. It caught my interest so I slowed down and drove towards them, honking a few times before eventually parking my car behind theirs. That’s when I noticed four heads turned to me.

Four men, to be exact. One with curls for others to share and he was tall as heck, one standing in the back a little bit with a funky jacket on, another dark-haired guy who had hair longer than many people I knew of and a pretty dirty blonde. They all looked kind of familiar but I couldn’t put my mind on it. It didn’t matter, obviously their car was giving them issues.

“Do you need help?” I asked them kindly, squinting my eyes at the sun that was shining directly into my eyes. My question made them look at each other strangely and the blonde sighed deeply as if I did something wrong. He seemed to be the most upset about the car so I assumed it was his.

"You think you could help us, darling?” One of them asked me. It was the one with the funky jacket that glittered against the sunlight.

“Why not? It’s not the first time I’ve gotten my hands dirty” I wondered and I realized I was being quite straightforward. They all seemed a bit surprised and silence fell over. A smirk crawled on my face because I found them a bit adorable really. I was simply playing around! I bet they didn’t expect a girl to come and help them but I was damn convinced I’d prove myself helpful. “I’m Y/N”, I introduced myself to break the silence. It sparked some kind of a conversation going and they seemed to appreciate it. To put the awkward tension behind us.

“I’m Freddie and curly over there is Brian, that’s John but we all call him Deacy and the drama queen over here is Roger”, Freddie was kind enough to introduce me to them. As I nodded politely and tried to remember their names, I realized why they were so familiar. I had heard their names before! They were in a band. 

“I’m not a drama queen, Fred”, Roger snapped back and I noticed that he seemed pissed. 

“I don’t know, drama queen sounds nice to me”, I shrugged playfully, feeling rather confident around them. What I said made the rest of them chuckle but Roger turned to look at me like I had challenged him to battle. His blue eyes were full of anger at first but then they softened as if he was too tired to focus his anger on me. He ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. Brian put his arm around Roger’s shoulder and they walked away from the conversation, allowing Freddie and Deacy to chat with me. 

My mind went straight back to the car as Roger was further away. Something about him was strange, but surely in a good way. Or was it just the fact he was blonde? It didn’t matter. Once I was done with this minor inconvenience, I’d never see them again. “What’s wrong with the car? I’m sure I can do something”, I questioned them as we walked towards the car. Deacy stepped back and eyed the back tire, which already gave me an answer. It was deflated! 

“I’m sure it speaks for itself”, Deacy sighed as we all just stared at it. I knew it wasn’t a big deal. I had changed a tire a thousand times! 

“Where’s your spare?” I asked whoever was ready to answer.

“It’s in the back but we have no tools. Someone thought we wouldn’t need them at all so we could fit more equipment in there”, Freddie let me know and I suspected he directed that someone to someone in spite. I enjoyed the spite in his voice. Obviously, this situation was annoying them all. It made me happy. I could finally do something!

“I have the tools you need. Let me get them and you can get the spare”, I promised them and already walked back towards my car. I heard nothing as I left and soon I was back at my car. I grabbed my car jack and lug wrench. As I was closing the trunk, I saw someone beside me and I startled. My heart jumped to my throat and if it wasn’t for the tools in my hands, I would’ve probably been ready to attack It was Roger! “Fuck- can you float or are you just naturally good at walking up on people?” I breathed out which actually made him laugh.

“The first one sounds better”, Roger admitted with a smile. Someone was quite happy although just a minute ago he was as grumpy as a toddler. Perhaps Brian said something to him? Damn, I wanted to know what it was but I had to remember that curiosity killed the cat.

Roger was kind of cocky but I found it intriguing. He eyed me like I was some eye-candy but he hadn’t made any comments yet. Usually, it was easy for me to read people. I could tell what they were thinking by just glancing at them but Roger wasn’t like the rest. Although we just met, I was slightly nervous around him but my nerves didn’t hold my witty tongue back. 

“You don’t look like the type of girl who has tools in her car”, Roger admitted after a brief silence. I wasn’t surprised yet he made me giggle. Honestly, I couldn’t blame them. I was used to presenting myself as a classy woman with strangers. My father taught me that if I made people underestimate me, my true skills would shock them more and therefore they would be more afraid and my chances of victory would be higher.  I suppose my skirt and sweet perfume didn’t help me look less like a good girl. 

“I hope it’s not a bad thing”, I breathed out after a fit of giggles. 

Roger smiled and I swear to god he looked like an angel. He was probably the heartbreaker in the band, the one girls drooled after without caring about their hearts. “No, not at all. I like surprises”, He let me know shamelessly. There it was! I could smell the flirtation in the air. Perhaps he was like this with all girls?

“I’m full of surprises”, I promised him and for a moment, my true self flashed before my eyes. It made my smile fade and I felt uneasy. I didn’t want to be the girl with a dark life but what could I do about it? For now, hopefully, I could just ignore it.

“I can tell”, Roger’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I almost thanked him.

“Well, drama queen, if you will, you can help me with the tire. The job is done faster with two people working on it”, I thought I’d get him to assist me. He didn’t seem to mind. 

“I hoped you’d ask”, Roger said and so I tossed him the lug wrench which he caught effortlessly. “And you can call me Roger. On the other hand, if you choose to call me with that ridiculous nickname, I will come up with something equally as bad for you as well.”

“You don’t intimidate me, drama queen”, I showed him my tongue, letting him know I enjoyed the nickname way too much. And so, I hurried to Deacy, Freddie and Brian with the heavy car jack in my hands. They had the spare just as planned. “So, you’re a band, huh?” I started a new conversation with them while waiting for Roger. He was probably busy thinking of a nickname I’d hate. He was fun, I liked it. 

“Not long if we can’t make it on time”, Brian answered me playfully. If he had sounded dull, I would’ve taken that as a hint for me to stop talking but Brian seemed nice. They all did.

“Do you have a gig or something?” I inquired curiously while jacking up the car. They looked at each other a bit mysteriously and I caught small smirks on their faces. It’s like they had an unspoken language through eye-contact. Well, I suppose that’s what happened when you had true friends. Don’t get bitter, Y/N! I thought. 

“We’re working on a little something”, Freddie finally answered me. I figured it was a band secret so I didn’t bother them more about it.

                                         After chitchatting with them for a while, time passed and we had successfully changed the tire. That was quick, too quick for my liking because it meant they would carry on with their business and I’d be alone again. Their car was as good as new and they were ready to leave. After a round of thank yous, they got in the car, all expect Roger who would help me carry the few tools back to my car. 

“Thanks for the help. I honestly thought we’d be stuck here forever”, Roger thanked me at the back of my car. I just smiled as I opened the trunk and threw in the tools.

“It was my pleasure. You guys should probably keep some tools with you from now on”, I assured him and once again looked into his baby blues. Roger really had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. His lashes were long and dark and the shade of blue in his eyes was captivating! I also sensed mystery. He was definitely not an open book and I was almost disappointed this was where our paths diverged. A part of me wanted to dive into him, to find out who he really was. I wanted to get to know them all. They were actually fun and nice, unlike most people I knew. 

“You said you had never seen us live”, Roger remembered one part of the conversation we had earlier. The tone of his voice made my skin tingle with excitement. Was he going to suggest something?

“Yes?”

“We have a show in London on Monday if you want to come”, Roger did, in fact, suggest something. I wondered if he knew how happy that made me. Hearing that sent a rush of joy through my veins and a smile crept on my face.

“Just tell me where and when and I’ll try to come”, I accepted his rather sweet suggestion and just like that, I had plans for the week. After spending so much time alone lately, I was thrilled of the idea of going to see Queen. There would be loud music, fun people and probably some kind of an afterparty. They were a rockband so I didn’t expect any less. Roger didn’t have to know how excited was, it was part of the fun to leave him wondering.

“It’s at the Marquee Club”, Roger filled me in with details. 

“That’s interesting. The last time I was there, I saw Jimi Hendrix", I remembered the gig all of a sudden. It was one of the best days of my life.

“You’ve seen Jimi Hendrix? You’re definitely full of surprises”, Roger seemed genuinely excited about what I revealed to him. It made me happy.

“You’re a fan?” I had to know. By now, I was so interested in our little conversation that I forgot they were in a hurry.

“I suppose you could say that. The drummer Mitch Mitchell is one of the sickest around!” Roger’s passion most certainly became evident in his voice. I loved how he talked about it and how there was a little spark of joy in his eyes. Sure, it could’ve been the sun as well but I preferred to believe he was just super keen about music and that caused the light in his eyes.

“Well, I can’t wait to hear you on the drums on Monday. I hope you can impress me”, I shrugged casually but he definitely heard the flirty hint in my voice.

“Sounds like a plan, princess”, Roger winked and began to leave. I gasped at the nickname, mostly because I absolutely hated it! How did he know I would hate it? Before I could ask, he slapped the top of my car and laughed as he stormed off. Oh, he definitely knew I hated that nickname but I suppose it was fair.

“You’re such a drama queen!” I yelled after him, unsure whether he heard it or not. Then I hurried back inside my car, already wondering if my father was missing me. I could remember him talking about some meeting the other week but honestly, I couldn’t care less. Right before I could open the door, I heard Freddie’s voice from their car. They hadn’t left quite yet.

“You flirty bastard, did you ask her out? ... Of course, you did!”

Just as suspected, I was expecting company at home. Two black cars were parked in my driveway and I saw the lights were turned on inside my house. I lived in a fancy neighbourhood in London, in a house too big for me but my father insisted I‘d live there. Apparently, I was safe that way. Since I had no real job, I couldn’t afford anything else. It was utmost annoying but it had to do for now. Then again, I suppose it would be selfish to complain when I lived in a minimansion. Two floors, a basement, a safe room and huge bedrooms weren’t anything to complain about. It was my situation that I hated. When I was at home, I felt like my father’s goons had eyes on me from dawn till dusk.

I parked my car and got outside. It was darker outside and I could tell it would rain soon. The sun was long gone, just like Roger and his mates. I wondered if they had reached their destination already as I walked up the porch to my house. To let the people inside know it was me, I knocked seven times in a very specific order and walked inside. “I’m home! Who’s here?” I called out and shut the door, kicked my shoes off and walked further inside. The red carpet I had in the hallway felt soft underneath my feet but it was cold. I made a mental note to warm the house later. That’s when three men, all dressed in black suits walked out of my living room to greet me in the hallway. This was strangely formal and I didn’t like it.

“Miss Y/N, are you alone?” One of them asked me. He was young, probably only a couple years older than me but he dressed and behaved as if he was my grandpa! His warm brown hair worked as a hint that he wasn’t grey and dry yet. I pitied him for living such a tragic life under my father’s command.

“Yes, I’m alone. What’s going on? Who are you?” I wondered and I was almost worried.

“Your father, don Kenneth McKnight has requested your presence at the Rouge Lounge this night”, the young one told me with actual fear in his green eyes. He refused to look me in the eye and I saw he was quivering. He had to be a trainee! I almost laughed but I was too shocked to do so. They broke into my house to tell me that? “And you may call me George Moonshine, the gentleman on my right is Leo Rosso and this is Oscar the blue.” 

“Great. Tell him that phones exist, okay? He could’ve ringed me about this”, I sent them off with a fake smile. Their names were probably not even real but I realized it didn’t matter. Of course, I got no response to my witty comment but that was no surprise. As they were outside, I locked the door and took a deep, annoyed breath. What the fuck was my life?

That night arrived and passed. I was way too tired to get dolled up just to meet my father so we could argue. So I slept like a baby and woke up in the morning as someone called me over and over again. At first, I tried to ignore it until that person called me four times and I had to get up. If thoughts could kill, I would’ve killed someone just about now. I picked up the phone and brought it to my ear, trying my best to contain my anger. “Who is this?” I murmured tiredly and yawned, wishing dearly I was still asleep.

“Y/N, you didn’t see me last night”, it was my father. His voice made my blood boil and I felt my inner rage coming to the surface. He was the last person I wanted to wake up to!

“I was busy.”

“So was I and I made time for you, love”, he took a deep breath and I knew he was probably smoking to stay calm. Everything about that sentence angered me. 

“You could’ve asked me when I had time”, I rolled my eyes at him although he couldn’t see me.

Another sigh. “Then we shall reschedule. Does Monday sound good?”

Monday! Yesterday came back to me and I could almost hear Roger’s voice in my head. I would see them tomorrow! “Uh- I’m busy? Can be meet on Thursday?” I requested any other day than Monday. I didn’t want to let him ruin my chances to make friends! Going out on Monday was currently the most special thing in my life and I would go even if I broke my leg.

“Fine. I’ll send you a ride”, and just like that, he ended the call. I heard the line go flat and I put the phone away. So, Thursday it is? I was happy now because it meant I had Monday all for myself! I couldn’t wait to see them again. Perhaps, I was most excited to see Roger. He was the one who invited me, after all. And for the brief time we spent together, I felt like we actually had some kind of a connection.

That morning, I wasn’t actually grumpy even though my father had called me. I made myself a cup of earl grey tea and sat down on my black couch to watch tv. As I enjoyed the hot drink, I already planned my outfit for Monday. Perhaps a dress would be appropriate? A short one, definitely. Oh and some red heels! Yes. It would be perfect.

I finished my tea and focused on the telly for a bit longer. The news was quite boring. They just went over what happened in England yesterday and then they got to politics. So I turned it off and got up, wondering how I could occupy myself this day. After a moment of pondering, I decided I could go and search for Queen’s new album. If I remembered correctly, they had released the self-titled album ‘Queen’ just about a week ago. I was more than happy to find it and jam it around the house and hopefully remember some lyrics for tomorrow. Little did I know...

[PART 2]

Author’s Note: I think I’ll leave this part here. It’s on the shorter side but I can’t possibly drag it out any longer because I want to leave the gig for part 2! Feedback is always welcome! :D

[acciotwinz]

Long Distance ~ R. T.

Roger can't sleep and calls a random number left of a napkin. He expected to find someone to help tire him out. He never thought he'd find love.

[Reposting and major editing of an old fic I had posted on an old blog & crossed posted on ao3]

Warnings: SMUT, +18 ONLY - MINORS DNI; swearing & cursing; unclear timeline (lmao); Brian is a bit of a douche. It's a long ass one, over 20K words. Read at your own risk!

Sometimes, being a rockstar isn’t all it’s cooped up to be.

Especially when on a world tour because it really has a way of derailing one’s internal clock. It’s the reason Roger can’t sleep. He had been hopeful that between the jet lag, the excitement of being back in his own bed, the hectic rehearsal and recording schedule as well as the copious amounts of alcohol he’d consumed at the local dive bar with his mates would be enough to tire him out. Apparently, he’s very mistaken.

He'd done what he usually does: counts sheep, lays in the dark, read the really boring book Brian has suggested. Nothing seems to be working this time around.

For what feels like the thousandth time, Roger turns over in his bed. He almost misses those rock-hard mattresses and non-existent pillows in the hotels around the world. He groans, casting his eyes to the red numbers glowing in the dark room. It’s nearing 1.30am and as much as his body is begging for sleep, his mind wouldn't shut off.

Throwing the light blanket to the side, Roger swings his legs off the bed. There’s no point in laying around, letting his frustration build. He eyes his discarded jacket, deciding that a quick smoke might help him relax just enough to be able to finally fall asleep. Stretching his arms above his head, his back cracks and with a loud sigh, quickly followed by a loud yawn, he lazily crosses his bedroom to reach the jacket he left by the door, fishing his half-empty pack of cigarettes from the pocket. As he rummages around the pockets for his lighter, a crumpled piece of paper flutters to the ground.

With furrowed brows and cigarette dangling from his lips, Roger picks it up from the ground. After having found the lighter, Roger starts walking towards his bed. Lighting the cigarette, he takes a deep drag, letting his lungs fill with nicotine, immediately giving him a sense of calm.

Feeling more relaxed, Roger clamps his teeth gently around the filter, using his now free hands to uncurl the piece of paper. Once he sees the hastily scrawled digits, his lips stretch into a massive grin.

Taking another drag and flicking the ash into the empty ash-tray on his bedside table, he tries to recall when the number was slipped into his pocket. It had to be from earlier that evening as the number had the London area code and he hasn’t worn the jacket on tour as he’d forgotten it at home. However, no matter how hard he thought back to his evening, no specific girl sprang to mind. There had been quite a few that came to chat him and the lads up, but none of them stood out. He doesn’t even remember being particularly flirty with anyone of them.

Roger casts another quick glance at the clock. It’s still early enough that if the girl really was out at the dive bar with them, she’s probably getting home now as he left much earlier than regular, hoping that the jetlag and general exhaustion would lead to a good night sleep.

Deciding that the woman had clearly hoped for a call from him, Roger picks up the receiver and dials the number. Making himself comfortable, he waits for someone to pick up.

It rings much more than he thought it would and he debates if maybe he shouldn’t be calling this late, if it’s better to try again during working hours.

Suddenly, the phone stops ringing, and there is a very groggy and angry voice coming through the line, “Someone better be dead.”

Rogers chuckles. “Well, hello to you too love”.

In response, he only hears a groan and it sounds so deep that he questions if he’s actually speaking to a girl.

“Who is this? And why on earth are you ringing my flat at...” there’s a small pause, as the person on the other line is clearly reaching for something “1.17 in the bloody morning?!”

Roger cringes, closing his eyes as guilt floods his body. He really shouldn’t have called but he really isn’t great at making decisions when tired and slightly inebriated. “I’m sorry, love. Thought you’d want me to call as soon as I found your number.” He hates that he can’t recall a name or even a face.

“I am not your ‘love’!” the girl says angrily, “I have absolutely no clue who you are. Or why on earth you are calling me. I certainly did not give you, my number.”

For a moment, nothing is said on either end and Roger decides d to play it cool, act confident and pretend as if he actually remembers exactly who he’s talking to. “I know we didn't spend that much time together but I -”

“Let me stop you before you start,” she interrupts and Roger can hear her shuffle around, most likely sitting up in her own bed. “I have no idea who you think you are but I can guarantee that I did not give you, my number. And before you ask, no, I don’t have any roommates.”

The girl grunts in discomfort, questioning why she’s entertaining this jackass when she can just hang up and disconnect her phone for the night.

“Oh” the syllable is so sound and dejected that she can’t help but feel a bit sorry for him, even though he woke her at an ungodly hour.

She has no know why she speaks again. “You must have made a terrible impression if some random bird decided to leave you a fake number.”

There’s an offended scoff that comes down the line almost makes up for the unwanted wake-up call. “No girl has ever done that to me. Or would need to do it. I’m a catch, thank you very much.”

“Sure you are, big boy.” She says concededly.

“Are you saying that I’m not?”

She snorts, short and derisive, “I’m sorry to break it to you but it seems that the girl who gave you the number didn’t think you were all that special.”

Roger pouts, stubbing out his long-forgotten cigarette, “You don’t sound all that sorry to me.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m not.”

Roger can’t hep the small laugh that bubbles out, “And would you feel inclined to illuminate me on why?”

“Could it be because some random bloke decided to call me at stupid o’clock trying to get in my knickers?”

“You wish,” and even though she’s never seen him before in her life, she knows he’s smirking.

“Are you really telling me that you weren’t calling in hope of a shag?”

Roger shrugs, deciding to lay down and make himself comfortable, “I’m not going to lie and say I would be unhappy if it happened but that wasn’t the main reason I called.”

She bites, “Why did you call?”

“I…” Roger pauses. Why did he call?

“Are you ok?”

Roger blinks, surprised by the sudden care that seems to colour her voice. “What?”

“I just mean…” she sighs, laying back down and glancing at her alarm clock. “It’s late. Or early, depending on how you want to see it. And your voice sounded a bit off. There must be something on your mind if you think that calling a random stranger in the middle of the night is a good idea.”

She really can’t explain the sudden interest in the man. She doesn’t know him but he sounds so sad, and is clearly lonely. It tugs at her heart in all the best and worst ways. Thank you, childhood trauma.

A small, grateful smile forms on Roger’s face and his voice softens noticeably. “You’re very kind, love. I’m just a bit jet lagged.”

She hums in surprise, “That sounds fascinating! Where did you get back from?”

“That, I’m afraid, is only for friends.” He tuts, “And I don’t even know your name.”

She laughs and Roger’s heart does something weird in his chest that he pointedly ignores.

“Touché”, she’s still laughing. “The name’s Y/N.”

“Lovely name for a lovely voice,” he says softly. “I’m Roger.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Roger.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N.”

There’s a small pause and it would be the perfect moment to hang up but neither seem to want to.

“Well, now that we’re friends, want to share why you’re jetlagged?”

Roger laughs, bringing his free arm behind his neck, “I was in America.”

“Fancy!” She says with a laugh, “What were you doing across the pond?”

“I’m in a band and we were on tour.”

-----

What should have been a one-time thing evolved into something more.

Roger and Y/N find themselves speaking on the phone nearly every day, even when Roger left for tour again.

The first month, it was Roger that called every day. It had started because of a particularly rough day in the studio and remembering the kindness and care in Y/N’s voice, he decided that her friendly voice was what he needed to feel better.

When the second month rolled around, Y/N asked for a way to contact him if she was having a bad day.

And thus, the tradition was born.

It’s been six months now and every time the phone rings, Y/N can’t help the flutter of her heart or the smile on her face. Roger has somehow weaseled his way into her life and she couldn't be more grateful. He’s become her best friend, her confidant, someone she can trust blindly and who would always listen to her and have her back. She feels like she knows Roger better than the people she hands out with daily. They’ve opened up about their lives, their dreams and insecurities. Y/N knows that Roger wants to make it big but he’s afraid that the drugs, the booze and the sex may cloud his mind and stop him from living his dream. He shares how much he loves his band mates but how they tend to get under his skin, especially when writing new music.

Y/N shares how she took over her mother’s bookstore while being an editor on the side to make ends meet. She opens up about her limited social interactions and how she feels like she’s a bit too clingy and overbearing.

They talk about their childhoods and what they do to relax.

The two of them understand each other in such a deep, soulful way that should scare her but only gives her a sense of calm.

Y/N has even come up with a sort of table to help keep on top of the time difference when Roger is traveling. She glances quickly at the alarm next to her bed and is excited to see that Roger should be calling her in a few minutes.

She makes sure her tea is still warm as she fluffs her pillows, settling down on the bed while tucking herself into the blankets. She waits impatiently for the phone to ring and when it finally does, she grins brightly.

“Hello there, rockstar!”

It only takes hearing his voice to know that something is up. “What did they do this time?”

“Who says they did anything?” Roger knows he’s pouting and that his tone is a clear indication that his band mates did indeed do something wrong, but he doesn’t feel ready or willing to talk about it.

“Rog, please don’t.”

They’d done this before: one of them – usually Roger – is in a mood and takes it out of the other, making everyone involved feel like shit by the end of the call. Y/N isn’t sure if she has the energy for it today but has never and will never be truly able to ignore Roger when he’s clearly upset about something.

“I know something is bothering you and I’m almost certain it has something to do with your mates since you were fine before leaving for rehearsal.” There’s a brief pause and Y/n adds softly, “I worry about you.”

Roger sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m fine.” He knows he’s being a bit too short with her and that nothing was her fault, but he can’t really help it. He doesn’t want to deal with it.

“Rog…I…” her mind can’t seem to form the right words to explain the thoughts running through it. She’s well aware of his temper and how it flares up around his mates; how he likes loads of sugar; how he can’t see without his glasses but still refuses to wear them.

Y/N knows that this time, something is different but she can’t really explain why or how without admitting that she feels more than friendship towards the drummer. And she isn’t ready just yet to wear her heart on her sleeve just yet.

She ends up settling for the next best thing. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, I understand. But please, don’t lie to me. I know something is up and I will never force you talk about it.”

Roger sighs in relief, some of his anger evaporation as he finds himself smiling “Thank you. How was your day?”

It’s at times like this, with Y/N talking happily about her day, rambling on and on about things he doesn’t quite understand and people he doesn’t know that he questions how he got so lucky to have gotten a random number that led to having this amazing girl in his life.

“I still can’t believe that no one except Peter Pan warned me about how much it sucksbeing a grown up,” Roger can tell she’s pouting and it makes him laugh.

The laughter however is cut short when she tries asking about his day and the previous night’s concert. “I’m in a rock band. It goes as well as rock concert goes.”

Y/N blinks, surprised by the venom suddenly lacing his tone. “What kind of answer is that?” She tries to keep her tone neutral, not letting it show how affected she is.

“The one I’m giving you.”

They may have been talking for six months but she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to keep up or understand his mood swings. “Why are you taking your shit out on me?! What’s your problem?!”

As understanding as she may be, Y/N has never had much patience for people taking their anger out on innocent bystanders, who just happen to be at the right place for the wrong time.

“You’re my fucking problem!” Roger snaps, voicing raising as he continues, “You ask all these fucking questions and pester me worse than my mother ever has. You’re not her. You’re not even my girlfriend. You’re a stranger that just doesn’t know when to let go.” His chest is heaving as he sits forward on his bed, empty hand curled into a fist. “God, we haven’t even met are you’re already so fucking clingy –”

With tears in her eyes, Y/N hangs up the phone. She tries reasoning with herself. She knows he’s upset, that something got him in this horrible mood but she has nothing to do with that. He’s hurt and wants to hurt others around him and he did succeed, if you ask Y/N. He’d said the one thing that he knew would absolutely shake her confidence and make her feel like garbage. They’d talked about it, multiple times. Roger had even reassured her at every turn that she was absolutely not clingy and that he loved every second they got to spend on the phone together.

He'll apologize when he feels better.

He values you.

You’re his friend.

Y/N keeps repeating these mantras over and over again as she stands on shaky legs, heading towards her small bathroom.

The phone starts ringing but she ignores it. She lets the tears fall, turning on the faucet and splashing some cold water on her face. The phone stops ringing, just to pick up again a few seconds later, confirming her suspicion that it’s Roger trying to get hold of her.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly makes her way back to her bed, sipping on the now lukewarm cup of tea. She glares at the ringing phone, wanting Roger to feel what she’s feeling, even just a bit.

Almost thirty minutes go by before she feels as if she’s got her emotions under control and is ready to speak to Roger, who hasn’t stopped calling since she hung up.

With a deep breath, she closes her eyes and picks up the phone, placing the receiver against her ear.

“I’m so sorry, love!” Roger’s voice floods her system as he stumbles over his words. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Or, I mean I shouldn’t… it isn’t…”

He takes a stuttering breath, collecting himself before he attempts to explain himself again. “You had nothing to do with my shit mood and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m so very sorry. I didn’t mean anything that I said, I just knew that those were things that would hurt you and it isn’t an excuse and I understand if you’re angry and don’t want to talk to me for a while but please know that I am extremely sorry and that I will do whatever I need to for you to forgive me and I’m such an ass. I’m so fucking sorry Y/N. I’ll make it up to you, I swear!”

“Will you now?” He can tell that’s she trying to be upbeat and wants to make him feel better but that isn’t her job. Not this time.

“I swear it, Y/N. On my drumming career. I won’t ever hurt you like this again and whatever you need me to do to get your forgiveness, I will do it. Name your price. Whatever you want, it’s yours. I s–”

“Really? Absolutely anything?”

Roger nods and realising she can’t seem him, he vocalizes his answer.

“Even if I asked you to rob a bank?”

He laughs, tears of joy springing to his eyes. “Just tell me which one.”

The line goes quiet for a few seconds but Roger’s guilt crawls up his throat. “I really am so extremely sorry, Y/N.”

“I know. I forgive you,” her voice is so soft, full of kindness he doesn’t deserve and his heart does some funky fluttering in his chest.

Roger’s shoulders lose their tension as he melts into the hotel mattress. Knowing she isn’t to upset with him and that they’ll be able to jump back from this soothes his fears of losing her. He’s not sure he’d ever be able to get over it if it were to happen.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispers and he can hear how upset she is and if he could transport himself to London to sooth all her fears with a hug he would. His urge to book the first flight out is almost uncontrollable. “I didn't mean to make you feel like I was pushing you to talk about something you didn't want to. I just worry about you, and I can't do anything if not ask what's wrong.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for love.” He shakes his head, clenching his hand against the comforter. Never before has he felt such a strong urge to hold a girl in his arms. His voice grows softer as he smiles gently, wishing her could be by her side. “You were just...just being a good friend. I should have seen that instead of the inside of my own ass.”

Y/N hums noncommittally. When she speaks again, her voice is a bit uncertain but sympathetic, “You've had a bloody terrible day, haven't you?”

“It wasn't exactly one for the books.” Roger can’t help the twinge of anger that laces his tone. He really doesn’t want to get into it, knowing full well he won’t be able to control his temper if he does.

“You're also tired.” It’s not a question. She knows. She always knows.

Roger smiles sadly, heart swelling in affection for the girl on the other side of the line “Yeah, I am.”

She sighs, frowning as she doesn’t want to let him go but knowing that he needs his rest “I should probably let you rest.”

“Please don't hang up.”

It’s Y/N heart’s turn to beat erratically as she grins ear to ear when she realizes that he cares for her as much as she does for him. “Okay.”

“Just for a little while, please.”

His voice is a whisper and she answer in the same tone, “As long as you want, rockstar.”

Roger lets his eyes drift shut, rolling onto his side as he holds the receiver tightly in his hands so he won’t accidentally drop it. He could never seem to get enough of her and he doesn’t even know what she looks like yet. What will happen when they finally meet? One thing he knows for sure is that he won’t be able to keep his hands to himself.

“I’d do just about anything to be with you right now”

Had he not been holding the phone tightly against his head, Roger would have missed it. She had spoken so softly, lovingly.

The blond smiles. “Really? Anything?”

She hums, fanning her heated cheeks as she thanks her lucky stars that he can’t see her. She hadn’t expected those words to slip out of her moth but they’ve been talking for so long and they’d just had their first fight.

“I'd swim across the bloody ocean if I could.” He means so much to her that she really would do anything to cross the distance separating them.

Roger blushes, eyes bright and cheeks hurting because of his blinding smile. She makes him so giddy, “All that work just for me?”

Y/N feels her cheek warming up even more, “You’re worth it.” She wonders how he doesn’t realize just how much he means to her or that she would do anything for him.

He hums to himself, grin never faltering as his minds comes up with all these different scenarios he’d love to make come true. Y/N laughs, almost as if she can read his mind, prompting him to ask what caused his favourite sound of the world.

“I think you might actually like me when we finally meet,” she admits finally, still laughing and it really is the best sound to ever reach his ears.

He feels a blush start to spread across his face as he realizes exactly what she said. Never being one to censor himself, he decides to push their carefully set boundaries. “You know, I sometimes imagine you’re here with me sometimes.”

“Yeah?” her laughter, just like her breath, is cut off abruptly. This is certainly not the turn she thought the conversation would be taking.

The drummer hums his assent, turning so he’s laying on his back, eyes locked on the ceiling as he imagines the girl of his dreams in bed next to him. “Yeah. I don't even have a picture of you in my head or anything...I know it doesn't make sense but –”

“No, it does!” She reassures. She never wants him to think that she doesn’t understand what was going through his mind.

He smiles, “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“What would you do if you were with me, right now?” because he knows exactly what he wishes they could be doing but he needs her to want and imagine the same thing.

“Why?” She has to put a hand over her mouth to stop the squealing his question brought to her lips. Why he makes her feel like a twelve-year-old girl with her first crush is beyond her but she wouldn’t give up this feeling for anything in the world.

“I don't know. It helps me picture you.”

She’s quiet for a second as she thinks over how much she’s willing to say out loud. “I'd make you tea...probably make sure you were all cozy, with plenty of blankets and pillows and the works. You deserve to be pampered.”

No one has ever cared about him as much as she does.

“Then what?” He’s aware he’s being greedy, but he can’t seem to help it.

YN swallows thickly, nervous as she forces herself to talk openly “I'd climb into bed with you. Hold you really close to me. I'd run my fingers through your hair –”

Roger moans, low and almost imperceptibly, at the thought. YN giggles, though she feels a warm ache forming below her stomach when she hears the sound. “You’d like that, huh?”

“Fuck yes.” His voice is hoarse and tired and it really isn’t doing much to help the situation between her legs. Y/N shifts on the bed, clenching her thighs while trying to concentrate on anything but the grovelling and sensual sound of his voice.

“What else?” He wants the conversation to take a specific turn but he’s beginning to get extremely drowsy and his voice betrays that.

Y/N smiles at the sudden sleepiness in his tone and her mouth goes dries as she tells him what has been on her mind for at least a few weeks now, maybe more. “I think...I think then I might have to kiss you, Rog.”

The line is strangely quiet and for a moment, she thinks she’s taken things too far and has completely misread the situation.

Roger gives a dopey, sleepy smile, hope filling his chest with a warm feeling. His voice is nearly a whisper in the receiver, “Where would you kiss me?”

She chokes back a sob, relief flooding her system as he doesn’t seem to mind the idea of her kissing him. In fact, she realizes with a start, he’s egging her on. “Maybe your shoulders...or your tummy.”

Roger hums wantonly into the phone as his mind conjures up the images she’s barely describing.

“Where would you want me to kiss you, Rog?”

The question is enough to wake him up. Roger groans, his voice huskier than a few moments ago “I can think of a few places.”

Y/N blushes, stuttering while trying to come up with a response while getting far too hot under the collar for her own good. Just as she’s opening her mouth, she hears a knock sounding through the phone.

Roger barely manages to hold back an angry curse as he gets up to open the hotel door, receiver still held against the side of his face. When he sees Brian, he rolls his eyes, “What do you want?”

Brian flinches at his friend's tone, holding up a tray of food as he grumbles “Fred wants to make sure you eat something before going to sleep.”

“Thanks, but I'm not hungry!” he responds before closing the door in the guitarist's face. He hears a faint mumble of "Whatever" as Brian heads back to his own room.

“Y/N –” he speaks, hoping against all odds that the mood hasn’t been completely lost. He needs to know what her answer is. Does she want to do to him all the things he wants to do to her?

“You should get some sleep, Rog.”

Roger wants to punch Brian for ruining what could have been the best night of his life so far. He was so close to getting somewhere with this amazing girl and that twat ruined his mood once again. He clears his throat, trying to not let tears of frustration gather in his eyes. “Y-Yeah...Yeah. You're right. I'll call you when I wake up?”

Y/N smiles warmly, quickly drying the single tear that had fallen at their lost moment, “I'll be here.”

Roger's chest buzzes. He whispers a faint 'Sweet dreams love' and waits for her reply before hanging up. He sighs, arm over his eyes.

One day, that girl will be his and he will be hers.

—————----------------------------------

“So” her friend drags out the ‘o’, looking at Y/N with pursed lips, “You like him.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, bringing the fuming cup of tea to her lips. She knows she’s just buying herself a few seconds as she debates how to actually address this whole thing. She knew she’d regret telling her best friend about Roger and their unorthodox friendship – or is it a relationship? Y/N shakes her head, aware of the piercing stare locked on her. She also knew that talking to Winnie would be a double-edge sword but she really needs to talk to someone about this whole Roger thing, just to make sure that it isn’t all in her head and that he too feels something for her. And to make sure it isn’t just some fever dream her mind has conjured in answer to her stress levels being through the roof.

It's been over a year since their first conversation. Roger has travelled the world and made his way back to England just to leave again but they had yet to meet. Y/N is starting to think that he might be ashamed of her. That, or he’s hiding who he really is.

“So what if I do?” Her cheeks start to colour as she avoids looking at the person across from her.

Winnie scoffs, shaking her heard “It's worse than I thought.”

Y/N's jaw drops at the remark, chest feeling a bit tight. “What do you mean by that?”

Winnie rolls her eyes, “I haven't seen you blush this much since...Well, I've actually never seen you blush this much. You've gone completely pink.”

Y/N's eyes fall to the table. She can feel her cheeks growing even pinker and hates her friend for being right.

“Y/N/N…” Winnie says with a frown, “I've got to be honest, here. I don't like it. At all.”

Y/N’s heart sinks. She never thought her friend wouldn’t approve of Roger and the words are like a knife to the chest. Sure, she knew that Winnie would be a bit skeptical but she never thought she’d be so against the idea of Roger. “W-Why not?”

Winnie doesn’t want to be harsh or hurt Y/N in any way but she also doesn’t want her best friend to get her hopes up and then her heart broken by a complete stranger. She reaches her hand across to the table and covers her friend’s. “Y/N… Just think about it rationally for a moment. The bloke calls you in the dead of night. You have no idea where he got your number or who he is and he's already trying to get in your pants –” Y/N opens her mouth to argue but Winnie talks over her. “How do you know he's not 70, huh? He could be anyone, Y/N. He could be your dad, for Christ’s sake!”

YN cringes, holding her head in her hand as she rubbed her temples. She feels utterly defeated. And a bit naïve. Even if she explains every detail to Winnie, she wouldn’t understand.

Winnie sighs, “What if he's got nothing to offer?”

Y/N clenches her jaw, anger boiling in the pit of her stomach. She knows it isn’t fair to be mad at Winnie. That her friend is only trying to look out for her. Still, she feels the urge to protect Roger and their whatever-this-is. “When has that ever been a problem for me? And that's just it, Win. He does...He offers me so much every day and he never expects anything back. He's kind to me...and he's silly and warm and sweet and–”

Winnie's expression softens as she sees the tears burning in Y/N's eyes as she takes Y/N's hands in hers again. However, she doesn’t back down, “You don't even know his last name.”

Y/N sniffles, refusing to let a single tear roll down her face. She takes a deep breath. “I don't really see where the problem is in that.” Winnie's brows knit together and Y/N crosses her arms, “He doesn't know my last name, either. It's not like I'm asking him for anything, Win. He's just great to talk to. He's kind and funny.... he’s smart. Wickedly smart, but he doesn't know it.” Y/N laughs breathlessly, getting lost in her memories of all their conversations. “Acts like this tough, careless thing sometimes but he's so soft on the inside. So good to me. He has the sweetest little laugh, too...gets all croaky when he's tired.”

Winnie squeezes Y/N's hand comfortingly, giving her a sympathetic smile. Realizing that nothing she says is going to change Y/N’s mind, she says softly “Just take care of yourself. That's all I ask.”

Y/N’s responding smile is as bright as the sun, “He's good. I know it. I can feel it. I’m going to be fine as long as I have him.”

“I hope so for you, darling. You deserve some happiness.”

Y/N takes another deep breath, reaching for her cup of tea.

Winnie grins too, “Just know that if he hurts you, I'll have his head. I don't care how old he turns out to be.”

Y/N laughs, rolling her eyes. “Thank fuck I know you've got my back, Win.”

---------------------

Roger is so lost in his thoughts that when John sits down beside him on the small sofa of the tour bus, he flinches, knocking over his beer. John laughs at him, passing him a dirty shirt from the floor to help clean the mess. Roger mumbles a quick "thanks mate" before trying to dry the small table.

“You okay mate?” Brian asks from his spot at the table. The guitarist is barely paying attention to his game of Scrabble with Freddie. For the past few days, he had been paying closer attention to his best friend because something is definitely off. He can’t put his finger on what but he sure as hell is going to find out.

“‘Course I am. Why'd you ask?” Roger is now working on the stain on his trouser, not really listening to his band mates.

Freddie frowns, waiting for Brian to place his next tile and nudges him with a foot under the table to get his attention. When Brian keeps ignoring him, the singer exchanges a quick glance with the bass player, both of them confused about what’s happening.

Brian shrugs, trying to act nonchalant and failing, “You've been acting weird lately.”

Roger's head whips up, eyes zeroing in on the guitarist “What'd you mean?” his tone came out too suspicious and the drummer has a feeling he knows exactly where this conversation was headed.

“You've been extremely well-behaved lately and you spend most of your time holed up in your hotel rooms. What's going on?” Brian decides that beating around the bush wasn’t going to work with the blond.

Roger rolls his eyes, doing his best to hide the smile threating to pull his lips up as he tries to dissuade his friends from asking too many questions or giving them more reasons to be concerned about him. “’S just talking to a friend. No need to get your panties in a twist, old chap.”

“A friend?” Freddie's amused and now feels the need to be part of this conversation, especially if it makes Roger a bit uncomfortable.

The drummer shrugs, his ears going pink as Brian rolled his eyes, already tired of vague answers. “What friend?”

Roger keeps himself busy by wiping the now fully absorbed beer from his pants. “Just a friend.”

John chuckles when he notices how much the lack of tangible information is bother Brian.

“You don't have friends that we don't know!” the guitarist points out.

Roger rolls his eyes, head falling backwards as he drops the shirt to the ground “I do too! We don't do everything together Brian.”

“What's her name, Rog?” Freddie decides to cut to the chase, use to seeing through all of Roger’s bullshit.

The drummer sighs, knowing that the more he tries to get out of this conversation, the more they will pry. He mumbles, “Y/N”

John smiles as Freddie's lights up like a child on Christmas morning. The singer sits forward and leans into the drummer’s line of sight. “And where did you happen upon this friend, hm?”

Roger's cheeks grow pink. He can’t and won’t even try to stifle the pleased smile forming on his lips. Brian’s face pinches in confusion: he's never seen Roger like this in his life. Roger hates when people get all warm and mushy; he always crinkles his nose up with displeasure when John rambles on about Veronica, and yet, here he is, looking as if he’s about to do the same thing.

“If I’m completely honest, I haven't exactly met her in person. Yet.” He confesses sheepishly.

Fred raises his eyebrows, the conversation already taking a turn he didn't expect. “Pardon?”

Roger sighs, rubbing his face as he tries to explain the whole situation as best he can. “We kind of met by accident. Before leaving for tour, I was talking to a girl in a pub back home and well... she gave me a fake number that turned out to be Y/N's.”

John nods, intrigued by the blond's story, “Is it safe to assume you called the number?”

“Yeah.” Roger grins, “Wasn't the bird from the pub, obviously. The girl on the line didn't have any clue who I was. She was pissed, to be honest.” Roger laughs thinking back to the night they met. “She's from London and with the fact that she hadn’t been out and about that night, I accidentally woke her up at one thirty in the morning. She put me in my place for it, too. We started talking after that, I guess.”

Deacy is happy to see his friend so smitten. “How long have you been talking?”

Roger takes a sip of someone's drink, stopping to think. “About a year, I reckon. Maybe a bit more.”

Brian chokes on his own saliva. “A year!? Really?” He looks to the other boys, and even John has his brows raised in surprise.

Roger looks confused, “What?”

“Rog, I don't think I've ever seen you talk to any girl for more than a few hours.” The bass player is quick to point out. “And even when you do, it’s because they’re a good shag.”

Roger frowns, a bit hurt by the comment. He knows he’s never had a serious relationship and that he loves sex but he isn’t some emotionless sex fiend. He is capable of being committed and in a monogamous relationship. He’s just never had the right motivation before. “Tt's not like that.”

Fred smirks, “So you're saying she’s just a friend?”

Roger stutters for a second before falling silent, his face going warmer. “I just… I think she's nice, and easy to talk to.” He knew he wouldn't be able to explain their bond eloquently enough for them to truly understand. It’s more that simple attraction or wanting a relationship. There’s something about Y/N and their bond that he will never be able to explain.

“You realize you broke up with Jo so you could spend more time with your drums? Rog, you're not exactly fantastic at commitment.” Brian feels the need to point out.

Roger’s heart sinks at the lack of support from his friends and wishes he hadn’t let any of this slip. “She's important to me, whether you understand us or not. I want to fly her out here so we can meet –”

Brian scoffs, arms crossing over his chest “You sure she's not just trying to sneak her hands in your pockets, mate?”

Roger is stunned into silence and his temper flares. “What?!”

“How can you be sure that she's not just trying to make a few bucks off you? We make good money now, Rog. People know that.” Again, Brian is pointing something out as if it’s the most obvious reason in the world for a girl to talk with him for so long. Why else would a girl want to spent a whole twelve months speaking to Roger, right?

Roger doesn’t even know where to start or how to respond. The fact that Brian would even imply that YN would ever think about doing something like that is infuriation.

“There are plenty of smart girls out there, mate.” The guitarist carries on, oblivious to the turmoil going through the drummer’s mind. “You've got a keep an eye out for the ones sniffing out gold –”

Roger sees red. “Don't fucking dare finish that sentence, Brian.”

The guitarist rolls his eyes, unimpressed by the drummer's outburst. “All I'm saying is you ought to be careful.”

“I know you think you're smarter than the rest of us but I'm perfectly capable of handling myself.”

Freddie rubs his temples exasperatedly, knowing that this is not going to be the end of the conversation and it’s going to end poorly for all parties involved.

“Roger, you're letting yourself fall in love with this girl and you don’t even know her! She's a complete stranger!” Brian raises his voice, “You've never bloody met her!”

“Fuck off, Brian. You have no fucking idea what or who you're talking about.” Roger slams the bottle against the table and storms off towards the back of the bus “Leave me the fuck alone for the rest of the day.”

----------------------------------

Roger’s eyes blink open as soon as he registers the phone in his hotel room starts ringing. He scrambles for the receiver, nearly falling off the mattress in the process as the sheet tangle in his legs.

It's been nearly a fortnight since he's last spoken to Y/N. It seems the two have less and less time as the summer months have rolled around. There are interviews to do, books to edit, concerts to play, shelves to stock. All their work seems to be never-ending.

“Y/N?” Roger chimes, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He knows that the likelihood of it being anyone else is nonexistent but he always likes to make sure she knows that she’s always his first thought.

“Hi, Rog.” She smiles to herself. Hearing his voice always makes her days better.

Relief washes over Roger's body at the sound of her voice. “God, I've missed you.” He admits, chest aching happily. “Missed you so much. Every day. Fuck, you don't know how good it is to hear your voice.” Roger relaxes against his pillow, playing with the phone chord as his eyes close blissfully.

Tears well in Y/N’s eyes as she tries swallowing around the knot lodged in her throat. “I’ve missed you too, Rog.”

Roger's brow furrow. Her voice’s hoarse, as if she’s been crying. And tired. Immediately he can tell that something’s wrong but he tries clearing the thought from his head, trusting that she would tell him anything she wanted him to know.

“Had a dream about you last night.” He mumbles, smiling at the memory as he tries to make her smile. “I can't remember what you looked like in the dream but it couldn’t have been anyone but you. It felt like you.”

She smiles against the speaker.

Roger eyes furrow as he tries to recall if they’ve ever shared physical details of each other. He knows they’ve shared what’s in their hearts and minds but never have they spoken about what they look like. He needs to know. “How tall are you?”

Y/N doesn’t answer and Roger's worry comes back stronger than before. “Y/N?”

“Hm? What was that Rog?”

The drummer doesn’t like how tired she sounds. They’ve had had their share of bad conversations but she’s never ignored or not answered one of his questions. “How tall are you?”

“Oh... uhm... I guess /your height/.”

It took her too long to answer. Roger bites his lower lip before sighing, knowing that the only way for him to feel better is knowing that she’s okay. “There's something wrong.”

Y/N pauses, finally fully present in the conversation. Her heart beats a bit too quickly in her chest. “W-What?”

“You're not acting like yourself. Something's wrong.” Roger hates how certain of this he is.

She goes silent while trying to hold it all back, but it’s no use. Her face crumbles as she lets out a sob against the receiver. Calling him had been the best and worse decision she made today.

Roger's heart feels like it’s shattering as he fights helplessly to calm her from oceans away.

“Y/N...” He feels stuck. Someone he loves is sobbing and he’s a million miles away. “Y/N, my love, what’s wrong? What's happening?”

His mind is working a million miles a second. It’s been so long since they last spoke, that there are hundreds of things that could have happened. Is she hurt? Did someone she know get hurt? Has the press somehow found out about their conversations and been harassing her?

She chokes on her words, trying to explain as best as she could but her breathing is still too choppy and labored for her to be understandable.

Roger listens as she struggles to breathe and he doesn’t think he’s ever known fear before his moment. The sounds coming from the woman he loves sound painful and he wants nothing more than to hold her and soothe all her pain. “Y/N, my love, just breathe. Can you do that for me? Take deep breaths.” He does what he’s asking her to do so that she has something to mimic. “Just do what I am okay? I'm right here baby.” He keeps his breathing slow and steady, guiding hers until she settles. She wipes the tears from her cheeks, sniffling painfully. Roger wishes he could reach through the phone and scoop her up in his arms. He's trying to figure out how angry the boys – and the label – would be if he were to fly out to her for a few days.

“I had to fire them all.” She admits in a whisper.

His stomach drops, “Who love?”

“My employees... I couldn't pay them anymore.” She starts crying again, her voice breaking and he can barely make out the words tumbling from her lips.

Roger frowns, a thought he doesn’t like pushing to the front of his mind. “Who's been running the store when you aren't there?” Y/N cuts herself off abruptly and when she finally answers, he hates what he hears. “It's just been you. Oh, love, it's just been you all by yourself?”

Her sobs grow louder as Roger hushes her soothingly through the phone as he fights off his own tears. “Oh baby, I'm so sorry.”

“I-I didn't want to. I had to.” Y/N needs him to understand. She really has no other choice and she hates how powerless she is. She’s trying her best to ground herself but everything hurts.

“I know, sweetheart.” He reassures her, “They understand.”

“M-My landlord threatened to evict me and I've got no food in the pantry and I just didn't know what else to do.” She grabs her hair tightly as the pain in her chest increases.

Roger's throat tightens to the point where taking a breath is painful. “Why didn't you say anything, darling? I would have sent you mone–”

'No. No. I don't want to take money from you.” She states resolutely. “That's not fair and it’s not me. I will figure something out.”

He rolls his eyes at her stubbornness. “What's ‘not fair’ is that you're suffering, Y/N.” He pauses, “When's the last time you had a meal? Like, a whole meal, not just a snack.”

When doesn’t Y/N answer, Roger knows that it has been too long.

“I've been eating little things here and there.” She finally admits with a small, fearful voice, “I don't have time to sit and eat at work, anyway.”

“Y/N,” his tone doesn’t allow for any room for her not to answer, “when was the last time?”

She swallows thickly, “A week ago. I think.”

Roger feels like someone has punched him in the throat. His eyes burn as he fights off tears. Now is not the time for him to breakdown. He can do that once he knows she has some food in her system and she’s taken care of. He counts to five and takes a deep breath before speaking again. “Haven't been sleeping either, I bet. I can hear it in your voice. You're exhausted.”

Roger pauses and then add stubbornly, “I'm sending you money.”

Nothing she says is going to change his mind on this. She needs it, he has loads and he will never sit back and let her suffer when he can actively do something to make things easier for her.

“Roger, no.” She counters immediately, “Absolutely not!”

“Y/N, you need it! I want to help you. I need to help you. I need you to be safe and happy and healthy –”

“I can do it, Rog.” She guarantees, “I just need to work harder.”

She’s stubborn but so is he.

He sighs her name. Nothing he says will convince her to take the money. She’s too proud of that but there is nothing she can do to stop him from sending it anyway. Y/N doesn’t need to know until she gets it.

There is one thing that he can’t drop though. “Promise me, and I mean promise me you'll eat and you'll sleep. I want three meals a day and eight hours at night.” Y/N sighs, knowing that keeping that promise is going to be rough but Roger keeps speaking, “I know money is tight and it seems like it's hopeless right now but swear to me that you'll take care of yourself.”

Y/N's voice thickens as she whimpers pathetically. Never had she thought she’d be the kind of girl that needs a man to keep her together, but here she is. “I need you to hold me.”

Pain shoots through Roger's chest and this time, he can’t keep his emotions at bay. Hot tears roll down his cheeks as he tries to not sob too loudly. It hurts. It bloody hurts how badly he wants to be with her.

Roger moves the receiver away from his face, letting out a few sobs before he composes himself. He takes a deep, shuddering breath as his nose burns because of the tears he’s trying – and failing – to hold back. He does his best to keep his voice steady when he speaks to her again, “What if I fly out to you? Just for a few days. I could –”

Y/N’s tears start anew. “I want that, so badly but Rog, baby, you can’t. The tour –”

“To hell with the tour!” he says through gritted teeth, “I don’t care about the bloody tour! I care about you.”

Her breath catches in her throat. They’ve both tiptoed around their feelings, both making it clear that this is more than a simple friendship but never had either of them been so direct. It gives her hope and now, more than ever, she refuses to let him give up on his dream. She will get through this and knowing he’s willing to drop everything to help her is enough.

“I care about you too, Rog.” She admits softly, “But there are so many people counting on you. It’s your dream.”

“Maybe I have a new one” he mumbles. “Okay. If I can’t come to you then I can fly you out.” He needs to see her and make sure, with his own eyes, that she’s really doing better. He can’t lose her.

Y/N sighs wistfully, wanting nothing more than to accept his offer. “You know I can’t. Not right now, at least. The shop –”

Roger curses in frustration. “It’s not fair!”

“I know.”

Silence fills the line. Roger’s anger quickly dissipates and all he’s left with is unrelenting sadness. He feels so unlike himself; pitifiul and needy. He feels as if he needs Y/N more than he needs oxygen.

“Soon,” Roger’s voice breaks the silence, “Promise me. We’ll be together soon.”

Y/N smiles through the tears, “I promise.”

“And promise me you’ll eat and sleep. I need you to take care of yourself.”

“I promise, Rog. I will get as much sleep and food as I can stand.”

“Good.” He swallows thickly, “I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She lets out a wet laugh, “Good thing is you’ll never have to find out.”

Roger finally relaxes a bit, breathing deeply. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you out of my sights once we meet.”

“I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

---------------------------

Roger keeps his head down, with his visor of the baseball cap pulled down almost over his eyebrows as moves quickly through the city. He’s hoping that between his disguise and Queen still being relatively unknown in the US will help him avoid any run ins with the press. It had been hard enough leaving the hotel without being seen by his mates or any of the roadies. He really doesn’t need word of his morning excursion getting back to Brian.

With a grimace, Roger walks into the American branch of his bank and lines up to speak to a teller.

It takes longer than he would have liked to get all the documents set up and money withdrawn but Roger definitely feels lighter as he steps back out into the sunlit streets and heads to rehearsals. Luckily, he was careful enough that no one noticed his prolonged absence.

The green room is still empty when Roger enters, heading straight for the vanity against the opposite wall. Slipping off his hat, he removes all the bank documents from his back pocket and sits at the mirror. He slides the signed check and bills into the same envelope, setting it aside as he removes his jacket. He definitely feels a lot better knowing he’ll be able to help Y/N in a way that matters and that will make her life easier. It also helps that their conversations have returned to being a daily occurrence, helping him ensure that she is as well rested and fed as she can be. Although she’s doing much better with his support, Roger doesn’t miss the stressed tone or how her work load seems to be constantly growing.

Roger only wishes he had managed to get to a bank sooner though this way, since it’s been a bit over a month since he offered her the money, she shouldn’t suspect anything.

Roger digs around the vanity for a pen and when he finds none, he uses one of Freddie’s eye-pencils and a tissue to write a short message to his girl. He hesitates, casting a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure his friends aren’t going to barge in. He really doesn’t want to try explaining the money or check to them.

Roger sighs, mussing his hair as he tries to put pencil to tissue. There is so much he wants to say but he isn’t even sure where he should start. He knows that no matter what he says, she is going to rip into him so with a chuckle, he scribbles down one line before signing the tissues and placing it delicately inside the envelop with the money and check. He knows he’s doing the right thing, and even if she won’t happy about it, she’ll be grateful.

For once in his life, he’s grateful for his foresight of asking for her full name and address so that he could send small trinkets and post cards when calls aren’t enough.

“Morning, Rog.”

Roger nearly jumps out of the chair, quickly turning to see a confused looking John smiling at him, a cup of coffee in hand.

Roger exhales, laughing at his own reaction. “God, Deacy. You scared the living shit out of me. Didn’t hear you come in.”

John laughs too before sipping his coffee as he takes a seat on the couch. Roger turns back to the envelope, hiding it under his arm.

“Didn’t see you at breakfast this morning, I though you’d still be in bed.” John chimes, brow quirked.

Roger clears his throat, avoiding eye contact. “Just had to um...run some errands is all.”

John nods though he clearly doesn’t believe him. “What are you doing here so early?” The drummer desperately wants to change the subject before he gives himself away.

John shrugs, smiling “I tend to get here early to help the roadies with the amps. I built most of them from older models that'd been trashed so they can be a bit finicky.”

Roger hums in understanding, slipping the envelope into the pocket of his jeans as Brian and Freddie waltz in. The drummer nods at both, fighting back a yawn.

“Sleep well?” Freddie asks with a smirk.

“Not well enough.” Admits Roger, standing from his chair and lazily making his way over to the costume rack. He doesn’t notice the envelop slipping from his pocket when he bends down to look for his converse. Roger curses under his breath, “I’m going to see if I can track down my trainers. I could’ve sworn I left them here yesterday.”

Brian quirks his brow curiously as the drummer trots out the door, stepping forward to snatch the envelope off the ground. Freddie cranes on his tip toes to peek over his shoulder, curiosity lighting up his brown eyes, “What've you found?”

The envelope hasn’t been sealed yet so Brian doesn’t feel too guilty as he snoops. The guitarist runs his thumb over the hastily scrawled name and address, Y/N Y/L/N.

“What’s inside?” The singer asks, hoping it’s a love letter and that he can take the piss out of the usually emotionally constipated drummer.

Brian pulls back the flap of the envelop and frowns when he notices that there’s cash inside. He moves toward the couch where John is sat, quietly observing the situation as it unfolds. The guitarist clears off a small section of the coffee table and dumps the content of the envelop on it. A wad of cash falls with a small thud, as a tissue and slip of paper flutter down after it. He quickly counts the cash and his eye widen in shock. £500. And the piece of paper is a blank check that has been signed and dated with today’s date. The name on the check is the same of the envelop and it finally hits him: it’s the girl Roger had mentioned on the bus.

Don’t be too angry. R

Brian feels like his brain is going to explode. A blank cheque?! He’s sending her a blank cheque! Anger boils in his veins as he tries to comprehend how his best friend of years goes from dumbing his girlfriend of almost ten years in order to become a successful musician to blindly sending money and blank cheques to a complete stranger. Clearly, something has happened because not even Roger would be that stupid.

Brian grips the empty envelop tightly in his hand as Roger wanders back into the room, muttering about his missing shoes.

Brian walks up to Roger where he’s now lounging on the couch next to John and throws it at him. Roger eyes the envelop before his eyes fall to the coffee table.

The blond lets out a frustrated sigh, looking up into Brian's eyes. For this, his reaction angers Brian even more.

“Mind sharing with the group, Rog?” the curly-haired man asks condescendingly. “Mind explaining why your ‘friend’ who isn't taking advantage of you is getting direct deposits?!”

Roger does his best to swallow back all his annoyance, but apparently, Brian isn’t done digging into him. “A fucking blank cheque, Roger!? A blank cheque, really? Are you trying to get robbed?”

Roger can’t even get his explanation fully out of his mouth before Brian cuts him off. “She's lying, Roger! She's a con artist!”

“She's not!”

“And you're giving her exactly what she wants! She'll be laughing all the way to the bank!”

“SHUT UP!” Roger screams, raising to his feet and pushing Brian back. “You've all got spouses or children. I don't. I've got no one to take care of. Tell me what's so fucking criminal about sending some money to help someone I love.”

The three other people in the room are shocked into silence. Never before has the drummer tossed around the l-word so easily. Roger picks up the money and the check from the table, carefully tucking it back into the envelope and smoothing it out.

Roger heads for the door, turning to look back at the group one last time before he leaves.

“If you need me, I'll be buying stamps.”

--------------------------------------------------------

“What the fuck, Taylor!?'

Roger chuckles into the receiver. “Well, hello to you too, darling.” He had been waiting for this call for about a week.

“Do not ‘darling’ me right now. I told you not to send money!” Y/N has rarely experienced such a mix of emotions. Anger, love, humiliation, sadness, helplessness, love. She whines into the phone, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. “Why didn't you listen? I'm not a charity case!” She hates feeling like a burden.

Most of all, she hates how loved and better she felt when she opened the envelope.

The blond frowns. It was never his intention to upset her, “Love, I –”

“Don’t you dare use your pet names on me right now, Roger Taylor!'’ Roger tries to hold back his laughter.

“I told you I can do this on my own!” she explodes, “I am perfectly capable of handling –”

“Oh, trust me, I know you are.” He interrupts. Roger toys with the phone chord, blowing some of his bangs away from his face. “You could run circles around me, darling. Just because you're able to do it on your own doesn't mean you have to.” He smiled softly to himself, “You don’t have to do everything on your own anymore. I can't physically be there for you, and I hate that. If it were up to me, I'd be stopping by the store to bring you food or help lug books around.” Y/N exhales, hand running through her hair. God-damnit. Why does he have to be so bloody perfect and far away? “And as much as I wish I could change it, I know I can't be there right now to hold you and promise it will all get better.”

“Rog–” There’s so much she needs to tell him.

“Let me do this, Y/N.” He begs, “Just this one thing to help you keep a roof over your head and eat and take care of yourself.”

Y/N gives up all hope of arguing with him about this. And just like that, she’s crying for a completely different reason. Her voice wobbles as she sobs into the phone, “You're so stupid, Roger. You're such a goddamn idiot.”

He laughs as he too starts crying, smiling lovingly to the empty room. “I thought we’d already established that.” She gives a breathy laugh, clutching the money and cheque to her chest like a security blanket. “Hasn't ever kept you from talking to me before, though.”

Y/N wipes her tears with her shirt sleeve, sniffling pitifully. She knows she’s never felt love like this before and she never will again. Not even her parents had shown interest in supporting her; she never thought any less of them because of that.

But here’s Roger. Sweet, stupid Roger forking over hundreds of pounds and sending it to her from worlds away without batting an eyelash. All because he wants to help in any way he can. She can hear him as he rambles on, still trying explain how it “really isn’t a big deal".

“Roger–” her voice’s is so soft that he misses it completely.

“–I just care about you and I wanted to help and–”

“Roger!” She yells with a laugh.

He stops, eyebrows quirking as he smiled. He hears her take a deep breath and waits impatiently for her to speak.

Y/N’s heart is beating like a hummingbird's. “I love you.”

“What?” Roger feels completely frozen until she repeats those three beautiful words to him.

There’s another long silence and panic set in YN's stomach as she bites her lip. She really doesn’t want to pressure him into saying it so it’s her turn to start rambling, “I'm not just saying that because of the money and I don't expect you to say it back but I just needed you to know because it’s true and –”

“I love you too.” He interrupts her panicked mumbles.

Y/N's whole body relaxes. She exhales, hands shakily holding the phone as she lets out a watery, “Thank Christ” that makes Roger laugh.

“God, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you so fucking much.” Now that he can say it aloud, he doesn’t think he'll ever be able to stop.

Tears well in Y/N's eyes again, “I...I want you, Roger. I want you here.” She sounds selfish but she doesn’t care.

This is the moment she’s been waiting for. Now that it’s out in the open, she needs to see him, feel his body against hers. She wants to show him exactly how much she loves him.

His heart aches, “I know, my love. You have no fucking idea how much I want to be with you right now. Fuck, I'd fly out to you right this second if I knew you'd actually let me.”

Y/N chuckles, sniffling “It's really tempting.”

He grins, “Tempting enough to let me?”

She shakes her head, “I can't be the one to deprive the world of Roger Taylor. I know how that feels and it's too damn painful.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Why can't you just be selfish once in a while?”

“I'm afraid I'm not as strong headed as my rockstar boyfriend.”

Roger smiles brighter than the sun, face red and heart full at her words. “Boyfriend, huh? I like the sounds of that.”

“Do you now?”

His smile seems to grow, “Love it, actually. 'Specially hearin' it from my girlfriend.”

Y/N giggles, loving his ability to make everything better with just a few, simple words. “Be careful saying that in front of all your groupies, might break their hearts.”

Roger scoffs, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Groupies!? Who do you think I am?” Y/N laughs and it’s his favourite sound in the world “You're the only groupie I've got, darling. Take you with me everywhere.”

“That's my official title then?” She jokes, “Resident Groupie?”

“Yes. And it's a paid position so you have to accept the money I sent.”

Y/N gasps, grin on her lips “You absolute wanker!”

“You love me, really.” Her smile softens, “I really do.”

---------------------------------

Roger's shoulders and hands ached as he plops down on his hotel bed. He winces at the contact between the sheets and the raw skin of his worn hands, biting his lower lip as he reaches for the phone. Hearing his girlfriend's voice always make it all worth it.

The line rings more times than Roger is used to and a very bad feeling sinks in his gut. Even more concerning is the fact that he goes to voice mail. The drummer frowns, setting the receiver back on the base before lifting and dialing again. Still no response. He tries a third time. Nothing.

Finally, on his fourth try, YN answers the line and relief washes over him.

“Hey, Rog.”

“Oh, thank god! I thought something had happened to –” He freezes, heart dropping when he realizes that she’s crying. “What's wrong my love?”

Y/N sniffles, hating herself for being the girl that cries at the sound of her boyfriend’s voice. She isn’t even sure what to do. If she tells Roger that his best friend called her and said she was a gold-digging whore, he’ll react rashly and she isn’t there to stop him from doing too much damage to the band or himself. On the other hand, these phone calls are all they have. Honestly is important, they both said so from day one and fuck, they’re in a relationship for crying out loud. She knows Roger loves her. He’s proven it more than enough times. It’s just that… If his best friend, the people he spends every waking moment with think that of her, maybe it’s because he’s said something. And she’s sure it isn’t only Brian thinking those things. They couldn’t have come to that conclusion on their own. Could they?

“Is it work? Did something happen?”

“No...” She hums, trying to gather herself. She’s not going to tell him.

Roger frowns, worry clawing at his chest. She isn’t tired of him, is she? “Talk to me, love. Please.”

His plea breaks some of her resolution and she fights hard to not start sobbing. She’s sick of crying every time they call. “It's nothing, just having a rough day.”

“No, it isn't.” Roger insists, brow furrowed determinedly. Something is gnawing at him to not trust her words.

Y/N swallows, mind running in circles. “Rog…You know I'd never lie to you, right? I'd never do anything to hurt you.”

Roger blinks in confusion, “Of course I do, sweetheart. Where's all this coming from?”

“Nowhere.” She lies, “I just want to make sure you know how much I love you.” She hesitates a moment. “Promise me you understand that, though. That when I talk to you...I'm never trying to get anything out of you. I'm not...digging for gold.”

Alarm bells ring loudly in Roger's head. Brian. Fucking Brian. “Did Brian call you?”

“No.” She answers too quickly.

“Brian called you, didn't he?” Roger is beyond furious as his voice raises along with the anger in his chest. “He called you and ran his fucking mouth, as he always does and hurt you. The fucking arse can’t accept that he’s not the smartest person in the room and wants to ruin everyone’s happiness because he’s a miserable bastard. Once I get my hands on him, I –”

Y/N sobs, “Don't fight with him! Please, don't. He was only trying to protect y– ”

Roger slams the receiver against the base, fists clenching as he tears through his door and down the hall towards the conference room turned music room, where he knows the lads are still rehearsing. He’ll apologize later to Y/N but right now, he needs to not be talked down. Brian deserves everything coming his way.

Roger slams the door open and as soon as he’s face-to-face with the guitarist, Roger punches him in the face.

Brian stumbles backwards as Roger keeps shoving his chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! What in the absolute fuck is wrong with you?!”

Brian's eyebrows furrow as he catches his balance, still trying to keep Roger at bay as he massages his sore jaw.

Roger's face is red, rage clear as day in his blue eyes as he spats his words at Brian, Freddie putting himself in the middle of the two. “Somehow, by the grace of fucking god, I'm happy for the first time in my miserable goddamn life and you have to go and try to fuck it up!” Tears welling in his eyes, Roger shoves his kit to the ground, cymbals crashing as pieces of set scattered across the floor. Freddie is grateful that it was just the four of them in the room, though the ruckus is sure to gather unwanted attention.

Brian rubs his bruising jaw, rolling his eyes at Roger's reaction. “I did it for your own bloody good, Roger! She was just going to keep leeching off you –”

“I don't fucking care, Brian!” Roger kicks his bass drum, foot going through the decal of his own face as he shoves Freddie away. “I don't fucking need it! I don't need any of it!”

Brian's eyes fall to his shoes as guilt filled his gut. Maybe he had been too rash and cruel. Maybe he should've given Y/N a chance to explain herself.

“What am I going to buy with all this money you've saved me, huh? Cars? Drugs?” Brian opens his mouth to argue but Roger cuts him off. “I love her, Brian! I don't care if she takes every fucking cent I have!”

Brian scoffs, guilt quickly being replaced by frustration at how idiotic his friend is acting. “Do you hear yourself? You've never met this person, Roger! You're being ridiculous! You're asking to get your heart broken!”

“I'm fucking grown, Brian! I can handle myself, you condescending prick! She's all I've got!”

The room goes eerily silent.

Brian clears his throat, pursing his lips. His voice is soft when he speaks again. “Since when don’t you have us?”

Roger stares right at Brian, daggers in his eyes. He scoffs sickly, “This? The band? The so-called friends that call up my girlfriend, making her cry and calling her a gold-digger?!” He gestures to the group, knowing that John and Freddie had done nothing to stop Brian from making the girl he loved question their whole relationship. “This is over. The second tour's finished, this is never happening again.”

Deacy knits his brows, “Roger–”

Roger takes a menacing step towards Brian, grabbing the front of his shirt in his tired and sore hands. “You ever speak to her again and I'll rip your fucking balls off.”

The blond turns from the group, retreating down the hall and back to his own room.

Brian, Freddie, and Deacy stand in shocked silence.

------------------------------------------------------------

Brian sighs as he raises his fist to knock on Roger's door. He feels bad. He really does. And he doesn’t want the band to break up because of a girl. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t still think Roger was acting like a mad man.

The guitarist hopes that the few hours he had left Roger to wallow in his self pity has been enough for the drummer to calm down and reconsider the whole quitting nonsense.

“No, Y/N! I won't! I won't forgive him.”

Brian freeze, dropping his hand to his side. Why on earth would Y/N be defending him? Brian rests his ear against Roger's door, curiosity itching beneath his skin. There’s a pause as Roger listens to Y/N's response.

“I understand that he was trying to look out for me. I get that, but I'm a grown fucking man, Y/N. He thinks he's the smartest person alive and I'm sick of it! I could have lost you!”

Brian rolls his eyes. He doesn't think he’s smarter than Roger. He just thinks Roger is dumber than him.

“No, I'm quitting! Soon as tour's over I'm flying out to you and I-.... No, I'm not! I'm not being dramatic!”

Brian smirks, chuckling to himself. “I wouldn't miss them. Not for a second. I can play drums anywhere. I don't need them! ... It is not bullshit!”

Brian’s surprised. Impressed even. He never thought that this girl would be defending them after everything he'd said to her. “I don't want to talk to those wankers. They treat you like you're some conquest. They don't even see it. I'm not like that anymore, Y/N. I'm just not that person anymore. You need to know that.”

Something in his words give Brian pause. Roger’s right: it'd been ages since he'd heard any moans coming from the other side of Roger's door. The drummer barely showed up at after parties anymore. Hell, even when women throw themselves at him, he just smiled politely, signing whichever body part they present him and returns to his previous conversation with the lads or their entourage.

There’s so many things Brian was used to seeing Roger numb himself with. Booze. Drugs. Sex. Anything that would bring him any sort of temporary relief. It had all stopped suddenly. Roger is now more focused and plays better. He fights less. He even started apologizing for things. He smiles more. It’s as if a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. No more dark circles under his eyes; no more empty bottles; no more smears of white powder left on tables.

Things are different now. They had been for a long time, he’d just been too conceited to notice. The changes seem to coincide with her sudden appearance in Roger’s life.

Brian bites at the inside of his lower lip, sighing as he knocks on Roger's door.

Roger curses, mumbling something to Y/N and brings the phone with him as he pries himself up off the bed and shuffles over to the door, flinging it open roughly.

“What the fuck do you want?” Roger spats. He’s vaguely aware of Y/N's voice in his ear, telling him to take it easy.

“To apologize.”

“Apology not accepted.” Roger tries to slam the door in his face but Brian’s quicker, smacking his hand against the hard wood.

“Really? I'm trying to be nice and you're going to bitch about it?” the guitarist can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Yep. That's the plan.” Roger is just about to try slamming the door shut again when he hears Y/N call his name loudly on the other line. He holds the receiver to his ear. “What did you say, love? ... No! Y/N, I don't want to hear anything he has to say.... Why should I?” The blond exhales angrily, eyes shooting daggers at Brian as he holds the receiver against his ear. “Come on in.”

The air is tense as Brian sits down next to Roger on his bed, biting at his thumbnail as Roger hits the speaker button on the base of the phone. “He can hear you now, love.” Roger mumbles. “Don't see why you're bothering with letting him apologize after he –”

“Just let him speak, Roger.” The voice from the speaker is crackly with static, sweet yet exasperated.

Brian smiles a little, feeling marginally better about things knowing she’s not too angry or hurt. “I, um...I wanted to say I'm sorry. I know I was wretched. I just got worried. Roger can be a bit of a dumbass sometimes and I –”

“I am not! You're the one that bloody –”

Y/N heaves an exasperated sigh, “For god’s sakes, Roger, just calm the fuck down and let him explain.”

Roger grumbles something under his breath. Brian can’t help but smirk. “Brian, I understand where you were coming from. You were only trying to protect him.”

Roger scoffs. “You're really going to side with Brian!?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, feeling a headache forming. Men. “You're being such a baby.”

Roger groans, crossing his arms over his chest as his jaw clenches.

Brian is starting to like this girl more and more. She knows how to put Roger in his place and he lets her. It’s refreshing, “I... I may have been wrong about you.”

Y/N smiles, “No shit!”

Roger can’t help but grin. That's my girl.

Y/N sighs, “But we'll get to you apologizing to me later. Right now, you two need to get your heads out of your asses and forgiving each other. Queen won't end because the two of you can't act like adults.”

Roger scoffs, “Fat chance.”

Brian shakes his head exasperatedly. “I swear, you're a child.”

“And you're a pompous asshole!”

“Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I'm pompous.”

“Oh, so now you don't think I'm smart?”

“Not when you act like a twat, I don't!”

“Piss off!”

“No! You –”

Y/N drops her phone back onto its base. Roger should have known she wouldn't sit there and listen to that crap. Roger and Brian go silent at the dial tone. The drummer curses, grumbling as he redials her number. It only rings once before she picks up.

“You two finished?” There’s silence and Y/N giggles. “I can't believe two grown men are being such babies.” Both of them open their mouths to argue in self defense but can’t before she’s laughing at them.

Brian sighs, “Rog, I'm sorry. I know you're not stupid and I –”

“You sure bloody act like it –”

Y/N exhales sharply, “Roger I swear to god if you don't stop interrupting, I won't pay my phone bill this month.”

Roger immediately goes silent and Brian laughs smugly. Roger flips him off.

Y/N shakes her head, “I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, Brian. You're already on thin ice.”

It’s Brian’s turn to go quiet and Roger’s to laugh smugly.

“Why do I feel like a mother scolding her two idiotic children?! Roger, Brian was just trying to look out for you. It was a shitty way of doing it but he loves you and wants you happy. Brian, Roger is hot headed, you know that better than me but because of you, I almost lost him and Roger was right in his reaction. You had no right to call me and call me a gold digger and an actress. You should have trusted your friend's judgment.”

Brian held out his hand, “I'm sorry, Roger.”

Roger takes it, giving it a reluctant shake. “I'm sorry, too.”

Y/N sighs in relief until Roger speaks again, “You need to apologize to Y/N as well. And you should know: she didn't ask for the money. I sent it to her without her knowledge and she yelled at me.”

Freddie walks by the open hotel room door, having heard their screams from the hall and leans against the post, observing the scene in front of him. Brian rubs his neck, cheeks turning red. “I'm sorry Y/N. I shouldn't have been so quick to judge.”

“You're right, you shouldn't have but I forgive you. I'm still hurt but I know it was done in good faith.”

Brian nods, guilt eating at him. “I understand completely. I... I wouldn't have forgiven me had I been in your shoes.”

Y/N smiles, glancing at the clock on her bedside table. “Lucky for you, I'm very forgiving and understanding. And as much fun as this is, I'm going to be late for a meeting.”

“Make sure to eat something, please.”

“Don't worry rockstar, I'm taking care of myself. I love you.”

Roger smiles sappily, “I love you too.”

After she hangs up, Freddie smiles and makes his way into the room and drops down next to Brian, “I like her.”

Roger grins, “Yeah, she's amazing.”

“I'm sorry I didn't stop Brian.”

The drummer shakes his head, “It's all good mate. You lot were just trying to look out for me. I was just angry because she was already hurting and you managed to make it worse. I hate hearing her cry.”

The two nod, realizing what a mess they had made. Freddie claps his hands, “Well, now that it's settled that you're not quitting the band and we're all friends again, we should celebrate! I won't take no for an answer, my darlings!”

————————————————————

Y/N’s pulled out of her thoughts as the phone rings at nine am. She knows it’s Roger: no one else calls her but she almost never gets calls from Roger this early in the day. There’s only a four-hour time difference, but it’s still rare for her to get a call before the middle of the night.

It’s nine and two minutes, meaning Roger is calling her at five in the morning his local time.

She picks up the phone in an instant, worried that something is wrong, “Rog? Are you ok?”

“Y/N? Y/N! It's me! It's Roger!”

She chuckles, realizing what’s going on. She can hear the smile in his voice as he basically screams across the distance separating them. “Hi, Rog. Sounds like you're having fun.”

He laughs drunkenly, stretching his legs across the couch he’s sitting on. “And you sound –” He groans longingly, “You sound so sexy, Y/N. So beautiful. Fucking gorgeous. Prettiest girl I've ever seen.”

Y/N giggles, face heating up at his words. “You've never seen me before, Rog.” She hears a few snickers from around him. “Am I on speaker phone?”

Roger nods, forgetting he was on the phone in his drunken state. He’s just happy to be speaking to his dream girl.

“Hello Y/N!” Brian calls, taking another swig from his nearly empty beer bottle. Y/N returns the greeting but Roger frowns, quickly switching her off speaker. “Brian doesn't get to ever talk to you ever.”

YN smiles sympathetically, “Aw, Rog. I told you I forgive him, so did you. He was just being friendly –”

“I don't have to see you to know you're pretty.” He interrupts, drunken mind already returning to the most important thing. “I just know it. I do.” He frowns, grumpy that she dares question how highly he thinks of her. “Prettiest girl in the universe.”

He yawns, rubbing at his eyes. “Wanna meet you so bad. I think...I think it's scary.”

YN hums, confused. “What's scary?”

“W-What'll I-...What is-...What if you don't think you like me as much? What'll I do then?”

Her heart stutters, “Oh Rog, of course I'll like you. I love you.”

“But you love hearing me but what about seeing me?” He croaks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “What if you don't like seeing me?”

Y/N sighs, “Roger, I'd love you if even if you were bald with green skin.”

“What if it's worse than all that?”

Y/N laughs, “Worse than bald with green skin!?”

Roger hides his drunken smile, as if she was there to see it. “I'm serious! I'm being serious and you're laughing at me!”

“Aw, Rog, I’m sorry. I won't laugh anymore.” She speaks through her giggles. “I'm listening. Really...”

Roger sighs, self consciously looking down at his body. “I...I'm not big.”

Y/N quirks her brow, intrigued by where this conversation is going. “What?”

“I'm not so big and muscly! I'm skinny! I mean...well...My shoulders are ok but –”

She chuckles, “Roger, my love, I promise I'm going to love the hell out of you no matter how muscly you are.”

Roger groans, “You've got to stop that.”

She frowns, “Stop what?”

“Stop...Just stop being so goddamn perfect all the time.”

Y/N scoffs, “I'm far from perfect, Rog.”

He groans again, “You sound so goddamn sexy.”

She laughs at him, loving how his drunken mind seems to go in circles. “Is it my 'I just woke up and haven't spoken yet' voice?”

Roger moans, running his hands through his hair. “You're just teasing now! You have any idea the kind of things I want to do to you?”

“I might have a vague idea, yes.”

Roger let his eyes fall closed, mumbling. “God, I just want to suck on your tits.”

Y/N's jaw drops, “Roger!” She feels her face turn scarlet, knowing he’s just a few steps away from his band mates and they are absolutely listening in.

“I mean it!” He whines, “You make me so fucking hard –”

“Roger, I am not having this conversation with you in front of your mates.”

He whines again, “'m not asking for full on phone sex!” His lips turn up in a smirk, “Maybe I could just get you off? The boys aren't listening.” He glances at his friends but he’s too drunk to really see, “At least I think they’re not.”

Y/N buries her face in her hand, “They most definitely are, Roger.”

He frowns, not comprehending what the issue is, “But I love you.”

“I love you too, rockstar.” She smiles, “Do me a favor? Put an aspirin and a glass of water by your bed.”

Roger feels himself tear up, “Are you hanging up?”

She knits her brows sympathetically. “I've got work, baby.” The last thing she wants to do is hang up on him when he sounds so adorable and horny but she’s already running late.

“Call me?” he asks, “Once you get home? The minute you get home.”

She’s smiling, “I don't think you'll be awake.”

“Wake me up, then.”

She chuckles, “Ok, rockstar.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Roger wakes up hours later, unsure on how he managed to get back to his room and with a pounding headache. He reaches for the aspirin and water he vaguely remembers putting on his bedside table, as requested by his amazing girlfriend.

While going to wash his face, he notices an envelope by the door. Reaching down to grab it, his heart flutters when he sees the name of the sender: YN LN. It’s priority mail, meaning she probably spent quite some money on it and it’s dated three days ago.

His hands shake as he tears the envelope open and tears filled his eyes as he finally knows what the girl of his dreams looks like.

----------------------------------------------------------

Y/N makes her way into her small apartment, keys held in her teeth, a grocery bag in one hand and mail in the other. She stops in the kitchen, quickly putting her groceries away before sitting on the sofa and going through the mail.

As usual, there are a few store coupons, a reminder that her rent is due in two weeks and an envelope from Roger. She’s come to love and hate these: postcards are great, full of witty comments and loving remarks. Envelopes usually mean that he either sent her money or a small gift. Stupid, sweet Roger.

Y/N's heart is beating like a hummingbird's as she opens the letter from Roger. She pulls out a single photo, clipped from a magazine with a single word written across the bottom.

Guess.

She smirks, sliding the photo back into the envelope and hurries to her room. She dials his number the minute she gets to the phone, sitting on the edge of her bed. It only rings once before he picks up. He doesn’t even get a chance to greet her. “You think you're so clever, don't you?”

Roger laughs, knowing exactly to what she’s referring to. “Yes, actually, I do.”

“You're such a wanker.” She’s laughing, shaking her head as she looks over the photo of Roger and his band mates.

He laughs, adjusting his pillow as he rubs his eyes, waking himself up a bit more, “Thought that was why you love me?”

Y/N smiles, kicking off her shoes as she lays back, “You want me to play that game? Fine, I'll play it, rockstar. I bet you twenty pounds I'll get it on the first try.”

“You really think you will?” Roger loves how confident she sounds. God, he loves this woman.

“Of course I will, drummer boy. I'd know you anywhere.” Her smile’s soft, the love she feels for the boy knew no limits.

He bit his lower lip, a grin breaking out on his lips 'You're on, sweetheart.'

YN pulls the photo closer, excitement rolling in her stomach. “Let's see...”

Every face in the picture is a beautiful one but she knows immediately that her Roger is the blond one but there’s no reason to make him aware of her discovery just yet.

She grins, the idea of making him sweat extremely amusing. “Suitor number one, here...Tall! He's got some legs on him, doesn't he? And just look at those curls! Gotta love a man with curls.”

Roger feels jealousy boiling in his stomach, but he does his best to ignore it, not wanting to give anything away. He starting to regret sending her a group photo. “Number two...Oh! that jacket is lovely. I like the silk. He knows how to dress, for sure.” Roger chuckles. Good old Fred.

“Number three...Number three looks like he's quite a sweetheart, doesn't he? So smiley! And that little striped vest!”

Roger purses his lips nervously, knowing she’s about to focus on him and talk about her first impression. What if she doesn’t find him attractive?

“Number four is this blond fellow.” Y/N smiles, her heart fluttering as she gazes at the man she loves. “Sparkly pink shoes, looks a bit tired. Might be drunk in this photo, actually. Stunningly handsome. Looks like he's got a bit of an attitude too.” She pauses for a moment, making Roger smile. She’d described all his friends perfectly and he can tell from her voice that she knows. He loves her even more for it.

“Yep, there's my Rog.”

Roger laughs, cursing his mind for doubting her even for a second. “I do not have an attitude!”

“You do!” She counters between laughs, “I would too if I wore pants that tight!”

He smirks, “I just wanted to show off my cute ass for you, love.”

YN grins, “Wait 'til you see mine, pretty boy. I can guarantee it's cuter.”

Roger's face goes red. The power this woman holds over him was astounding.

She hummed blissfully, head relaxing against her pillow as she admires the photo once again. “You're beautiful, Rog. Knew you would be...”

How she ended up being so lucky, she will never know but she will thank her lucky starts everyday from here on out.

Roger's heart stutters. He wants to ask her if she really means it but his heart knows she would never lie, especially about this. He looks over at her picture, propped against the base of the phone. He’s been carrying it in his wallet and keeps it next to his bed when they stop at hotels. His eyes scan her smiling face. “Do you have any birthmarks?”

She giggles, thrown but the sudden question. “What?”

“You know, birthmarks.” He realizes that it sounds random but he wants to know everything he can about her. At this point, he’s aware of her family history, of her interests and hobbies, and friends but he knows almost nothing about her body except for what he can make out from the picture. Roger wants to memorize every inch of her.

She quirks her brows, “I've got a little one on my back but it just looks like a mole. Why?”

“Just curious.” He admits, “What about scars? My hands and arms are covered in small ones because of the drumming and stupid fights.”

Y/N laughs at that, not at all surprised by his sheepish confession. “Mm... I have a scar on my left wrist. Got it when I was probably around five-ish. I was riding my bike and ran into my garage door. The glass window shattered on my arm. It both scared and scarred me.”

Roger smiles, imagining how her body looked liked, her scars and all. “Are you ticklish?”

“Depends on where you try it.”

Roger grins, “I can't wait to figure it out.”

They settle for a moment, letting the familiar silence wash over them. Words hang unspoken in the air and Roger decides to through caution to the wind. “I wish I could touch you. Just explore you. Every inch of your gorgeous body.” He’s wanted to say these words for so long.

Y/N smiles, a warm feeling washing over her. Roger can’t help but imagine her sitting in her room, holding the receiver to her ear. He hums, picturing his hands running down the smooth skin of her stomach. He swallows thickly, arousal pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Have you got a soft spot?” God, he wants to be with her so bad it’s a physical pain.

She smirks, her voice lowering a bit and taking on a sultry tone, “Why ever would you asking Rog?”

He chuckles, pants tightening at her tone and implications but two can play at that game. “Think you know why, love.”

She feels heat pool in her stomach, “Maybe you should wait and find it yourself.”

He groans in frustration, “What if I don't want to wait? What if I want to hear you moan my name right now?”

Y/N clenches her thighs, biting her lip to hold back any sounds that might escape her lips. Roger isn’t done though. “If you like that, just wait till I get my hands on you. I'll ruin you in the best ways. You'll be screaming my name.”

YN's head falls back, hitting the wall with a small thud as she moaned, panties growing wetter by the word. “Is that so drummer boy?”

Roger nearly moans, “Well, you know what they say about drummers, don't you?”

Y/N bites her lip. “What do they say?”

He smirks, “They do it harder.”

The silence is pregnant. Roger's boxers are tented and he’s feeling too hot under the hotel blanket so he throws it to the side before speaking again. “I had a dream about you last night.” His tone leaves little to guess about the nature of said dream.

“Lucky you,” She’s breathless, mind buzzing and body aflame.

Roger chuckles huskily, “And you said I have an attitude. What I am to do with you?”

Y/N smirks, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Are you taking requests?”

Roger moans shamelessly, boxers too tight to be comfortable as he rearranges himself. “I wouldn't mind having you under me.”

It’s her turn to whimper, legs rubbing together to alleviate some of the building pressure in her core. “I wouldn't mind having you on top of me.”

Roger closes his eyes, imagining the scene and wishing it was currently reality. “You won't get anything if you keep talking back.”

Y/N giggles, “You didn't think I'd go down without a fight, did you rockstar?”

God, he loved her. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude right out of her. “Honestly, I thought I'd be the one going down...”

Roger doesn’t expect the moan that comes out of Y/N's mouth and he wishes he could hear it in person. He smirks, “I bet you're an absolute mess right now.”

“You're welcome to come over here and find out.”

Roger wants nothing more, “That's tempting, sweetheart.”

She smirks, “It was meant to be.”

“You're such a brat.” He loves it.

“You didn't know that?” She’s playing coy, riling him up and Roger is soaking up each word.

“You've got quite the mouth on you.”

She bites her lip, “You'll love it even more once you feel what I can do with it.”

Roger moans, palming himself over his briefs. “I'm so bloody hard right now. All because of that mouth of yours, you minx.”

Y/N whimpers, “What do you want me to do about it?”

Roger squeezes himself, hips canting up from the bed. “I can think of a few things, actually.”

She palms her breast, bra getting in the way and she quickly rids herself of it. “Yeah? Want to know how wet I am for you? Would you like me to touch myself? Let you hear as I moan your name?”

Roger's breath comes out in pants, hand slipping beneath the elastic of his briefs to grip his cock. “That'd be a great start.”

She smirks, loving how worked up he sounds. “Bet I can finish too.”

Roger laughs breathlessly, “Damn right you will, love.”

Her underwear is soaked, fingers itching to remove them and get some relief and her mouth works faster than her brain. “What are you doing right now?”

Roger swallows around the knot in his throat, “I'll give you three guesses.”

“What if I get it wrong?”

Roger smirks, “Don't find out.”

Y/N has always loved a challenge, “What it I want to?”

“It might involve you not getting to cum, so I'd think about it real hard.”

“Is that a hint, lover boy?”

Roger moans, finally slipping his cock out of his boxers and slowly starting to run his hand up and down his shaft.

“That sure was pretty, rockstar. Let me hear it again.”

“You first, love.” He pants, “Touch yourself for me. Let me hear those pretty little sounds I know you make.”

Y/N lets her hand slip past the band of her panties, fingers teasing herself as she slowly circles her clit. She moans, making Roger speed up his movements as he smirks. “So you can follow directions.”

She moans again, applying more pressure to her clit. “Only you for.”

Roger can’t get enough of the sounds coming from the phone. “You sound so sexy. I can’t wait to taste you baby.”

Y/N slides her finger lower, teasing her entrance as Roger continues speaking, “I’ve had some many dreams about you, baby. Dreamt about watching your face as you clench around my cock.”

Y/N moans loudly, the images in her head and the words spoken in her ear driving her mad. “Roger”, she whimpers, fingers sinking into her slick core, “want your cock in my mouth, Rog. Want to feel it against the back of my throat.”

Roger curses, hips bucking wildly as he pumps himself. “God, the sounds you make will be the death of me.” He closes his eyes, holding the receiver close to his ear to make sure he won’t miss a single sound, “I'm so hard baby. Leaking all over my hand.”

Roger swipes his thumb over the tip, gathering the precum and using it to aid his hand. “Wish it was your hand.”

Y/N whimpers, fingers pumping her heat faster and faster. “Feels so good, Roger. I need you so bad.”

Roger curses again, “How'd you want me, love? You want my face buried in your cunt? That make you feel good?” The more he speaks, the closer she gets to her release. “Or would you want me inside you? I'd fill you up so good, baby.”

It’s Y/N's turn to curse, closing her eyes as she pictures his blond hair between her thighs. “I bet you'd look beautiful between my legs, rockstar. I want you so bad. Need to feel every inch of you stretching me. Fuck, Rog.”

She lets out a pathetic whimper, phone held between her shoulder and ear so both her hands are free, one to tweak her pert nipple and the other rubbing her clit furiously. “So close.”

Roger places the receiver on his shoulder, using his now free to cup his balls as the other increases the speed of his strokes. “hat's right love, cum all over your pretty fingers. Let me hear you.”

His vision goes fuzzy, chest warm as he lets himself cum while listening to Y/N whimpers and moan his name as she orgasms.

Roger whimpers as he finally lets got of his cock, breath coming out unevenly. He can hear Y/N's own sounds reducing, breath steadying. Never in his life has he felt such a strong need for aftercare. Through the years, he'd humor the stranger in his bed, playing with their hair or kissing them before they finally left. He never saw the point in pretending that the night of passion they shared was going to lead anywhere but he wasn't a complete jackass.

For the first time in his life, Roger wishes he could hold this amazing girl in his arms, kiss her lips as she relaxes against him. Maybe even clean her up, if she'd let him.

“Rog?” her voice sounds tired yet satisfied, and it makes him smile.

“Yes, my love?”

“I love you.”

Roger feels complete. “I love you too.”

----------------------------------------------------

“Are you excited the tour is ending tonight?”

Roger sighs, a smile on his face. “You have no idea! No more sharing a tour bus with those three wankers, I get to sleep in my own bed and eat food that isn't prepared in a restaurant or that comes in a take-out container.”

Y/N grins, putting a pillow behind her knees as she gets comfortable in the sofa, “Sounds like a dream.”

Roger hums, not completely agreeing. His dream is now something more domestic. “And the record label said we'll be in London for a while.”

The unsaid words hang in the air. Roger desperately wants to ask her to meet in person. They’ve been together for a bit over a year, speaking for almost three. If he’s honest with himself, he’s scared shitless. So much could go wrong and he needs her in his life.

“Oh.” Y/N isn’t sure on how to reply. She wants to meet him, hug him, see the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs or how cute his face is when he pouts. She’s scared but she knows she needs him in her life and it’s time she feels his arms around her. “Maybe we could grab a coffee?”

Roger grins, voice full of emotion. “Yeah? You sure you want to hang out with a rockstar?”

“You sure you want to hang out with a book worm?”

Roger laughs wetly, heart beating furiously in his chest. “I wouldn't want it any other way.”

—-—————————————————-

Every corner he turns, Roger can’t help but let his eyes drift over the crowded streets, searching for that familiar face. He keeps a hand in his pocket, thumbing over his photo of Y/N like a security blanket as he trails behind the rest of the boys. He unwraps another strawberry sweet, popping it in his mouth as Freddie grabs John's arm, leading them all into another women's clothing store.

Roger has been back in London for almost a month now, and both him and Y/N have yet to find the time or courage to meet in person. It’s an odd, nervous game each time he goes out now, like a "Where's Waldo" from hell. What if he’s right beside her and he doesn't even know it? He shakes the thought from his mind immediately: he would know her face anywhere.

“C’mon Rog,” John sigh, an arm wrapping around the drummer’s shoulders as Freddie digs through a rack of leather pants. He pulls a pair off the rack, holding them up to Brian but they fall about mid shin against his outrageously long legs, making the guitarist scrunch his nose in annoyance. “You’ll meet her soon enough, mate. You don't have to go searching every time you're out.”

The blond groans, letting his head fall back against his friend’s arm. “You have no idea how hard this is, John.”

The bassist frowns, “Sure I do. I've got a family. I miss 'em more than anything when I'm gone.”

Roger sighs as Deacy gives him a firm pat on the back. “But it's not the same, though. Yeah, you miss Veronica and the kids when we’re away but...but at least you know what it feels like to hold her. Kiss her... All I have is that one photo of her. You get to go home, to a house full of life and love. I went home to an empty flat.” His hand hovers over his coat pocket where said photo sat, tucked away.

Freddie gives a sympathetic look as he folds his arms over his chest. “It’s going to happen darling. You just have to be patient. The universe is waiting for just the right moment to spring her on you!” He winks, grinning brightly.

Roger rolls his eyes, “Fuck the universe.” He doesn’t care if he sounds like a child. He’s waited long enough. “It's been three bloody years. I'm tired of waiting.”

Brian smiled softly, “I'm sure she’s just as eager as you are, Rog.”

Roger wanders outside the shop, tired of their optimism. He just wants to meet the girl of his dreams. Is that too much to ask for? He ends up flipping through a little rack of postcards set up next to the door. He chuckles to himself, trying to figure out how funny it would be if he sends Y/N a 'London' one.

He pulls her photo out of his pocket, admiring it as his eyes wander about the crowd. He knows he'd recognize her in an instant. The moment he sees her, there will be not doubt in his mind. No other smile in a crowd of people could be as bright as hers. He’s so busy people watching that he barely notices it, tucked away on the street corner.

Author’s attic.

He freezes, heart speeding like a train as his eyes fixate on the store on the opposite side of the road. It’s a quaint little shop. Vines climb up the side of it, nearly obscuring the sign. It'd clearly been painted ages ago and cracks had long since riddled the letters. Roger feels like he can’t move a single muscle. It can’t be that simple, can it?

Roger pays the boys no concern, abandoning them in the shop as he forces his feet to move from their spot glued to the pavement. He stumbles across the street, eyes locked on the store as his heart sits in his throat.

Please, let this be the right place.

A small bell chimes as he allows the door to close behind him. The place is exactly the way he'd imagined: books lining every available surface, books piled by the register, books stacked beneath a potted plant. There are even books arranged beside a small armchair under the front window. It smells of coffee and old paper, and it feels welcoming and homey.

“I’ll be right with you!”

Roger feels like he’s stopped breathing: he would recognize that voice anywhere. Tears gloss his eyes, his hand trembles as he reaches into his pocket, fingers grazing over his worn picture of her.

He turns towards her when she buzzes into the main room, arms full of thick story books.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” She chirps, eyes not leaving her work as she flits around her desk, putting things in their right place. “Things have been so busy around here lately.” She chuckles, “I've barely been able to keep my own head on my shoulders!”

He watches her with a smile, tears threatening to fall. He blinks them back quickly, refusing to let her see him cry. His throat tightens with emotion and he can feel his palms starting to sweat. He wants to say something suave, something that’ll make him sound poetic and well-educated. Something that won’t make him sound like the love-struck idiot he is, but his mind seems to only hold her name. “Y/N...”

She turns around so fast he fears she might get whiplashed. Her eyes are wide as she meets his blue ones. The room spins for a second, and she can't quite tell if she’s imagining it or if it’s real. Her rockstar. Home after all this time. Seeing him here, in her world of books, with his messy blonde locks. He’s even prettier than any photo she’s ever seen.

His name is a breath on her lips, “Roger.”

She drops the books in her arms to the side, stumbling over her own feet as she runs to him, falling into his arms. She presses her face against his neck, her arms lock tightly around his shoulders. She can’t even try to contain the sobs that wrack her body. He smells of cigarettes and wood. He smells like home.

Roger can't believe how perfectly she fits in his arms; how normal it feels. He wraps an arm around her waist while his other hand buries in her hair, crushing her tightly against him. Her hair smells amazing, something sweet he can't quite place.

He sniffles, kissing the crown of her head as tears stream down his cheeks. His voice is weak and pitiful when he speaks, “It's so nice to finally hold you.”

Y/N gives a watery laugh, lips pressed against the warm skin of his neck. “You're home.”

Roger moves his hand down to the nape of her neck, making her pull back to look at him as he moves his hands to cradled her cheeks. Never had he seen such beautiful eyes, so expressive and full of love. Roger's thumb grazes her cheek, soothingly. His voice’s barely a whisper. “Knew I was right. You're the prettiest girl I have ever laid eyes on.”

Y/N laughs, head thrown back. She kisses his cheek, making him grin like a child on Christmas morning. “You're so beautiful, Rog.” She admires him, tucking some hair behind his ears. “Don't even need muscles.”

He tickles her sides, and she giggles, nose scrunching as he pulls her close again. Her laughter trails off as he smiles down at her, forehead resting against hers. He feels her hand rest on his chest, right above his heart as she clutches his shirt.

His eyes linger on her lips before locking with hers again. Her breath stalls. Roger is slow in cradling her face, indulging in her as he runs his thumb over her skin. His hand drops to hold the back of her head, tilting her into him as her nose nudges against his. Their lips graze.

A bell rings.

They jump apart, heads turning to the door to find his three friends staring at them. Brian and Deacy’s eyes are wide with shock and confusion: they turn their backs on Roger for five minutes and here he is, nearly making out with a store clerk after bitching about not being able to meet the girl he loves. Freddie just looks amused.

Roger groans, failing to hide the smile on his face. “God damnit Brian! Why do you always have to ruin everything?!”

Y/N burst out laughing, her head lulling back as Roger's hands holds her hips. Once she cracks, he can't hold back his laughter any longer, her smile infectious. His grin widens at Brian's confused expression. Freddie gives them a knowing smile, waiting to see if Brian could figure it out.

The singer knew who she was the moment he'd seen the two: Roger's protective stance, the starry-eyed look he has in his eyes, the way they are so comfortable with each other. It’s more than enough to hint at the girl's identity. Not to mention that he'd seen Roger fall asleep on the tour bus couch multiple times, still clutching her photo in his hand.

Freddie glances at Brian, chuckling as he decides Brian wasn't getting any smarter about the situation. The singer takes a step forward, lifting his sunglasses off the bridge of his nose. He gives Roger a wink, “So this is the girl you love?”

Roger goes red as Brian's eyes light up with realization, a grin on his face as Freddie smiles knowingly. “What did I tell you, darling? Trust the universe.”

Roger rolls his eyes, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from tugging up in a smile.

Brian finally pipes up, “Wait a second, so you're –”

“The actress trying to get in to your best friend's wallet.” She gives an amused smirk, extending her hand to shake his. “It's a pleasure.”

Brian blushes. Honestly, he had hoped that when they finally met, she wouldn't bring up the horrible things he had said to her. Without making eye contact, he timidly shakes her hand, “It's nice to meet you. Again, I want to apologize fo –”.

Brian feels two slender hands rest on his cheeks. He slowly lifts his eyes, meeting hers.

Y/N wears a kind smile on her lips as she speaks, “I'm just teasing. It's all good, Brian. You were just trying to be a good friend.”

The guitarist nods, unsure in his smile as Roger wraps his arm around her waist once again, pulling her towards his body. Brian observes how connected the two seemed to be: their movements are almost synchronized, and although they had just met in person, they somehow work perfectly together, like a couple who had grown up together.

John smiles at the group, “As much as I would love to get to know you, I think it's best to leave you and Roger alone for a bit. You deserve some time to get acquainted.”

Roger grins, kissing Y/N's temple. The girl smiles, her hands resting on the drummer's. “I like that idea. Rog, want to grab that coffee?”

----------------------------------------

“Sorry for the mess Rog! I didn't think I'd be having any visitors today.” Y/N bites her lips as she moves around the messy living room, trying to clean up a bit but Roger wraps his arms around her from behind, making her stand straight. He gently moves her hair to the side, placing a gentle kiss where her neck meets her shoulder.

“I don't care about the mess,” his voice is as soft as his touch, “All I care about is being here, with you.” Y/N hums, relaxing in his arms with her eyes closed as she enjoys the warmth emanating from his body. “It's all I've cared about for a while.”

Roger chuckles, content to stay like this forever. He can’t get enough of her. Her smile, her hands on his, her smell filling his nostrils. If this is a dream, he never wants to wake.

“Did you really keep all the post cards I sent you?” Roger isn't sure why he asked, but he needs to know if those pieces of cardboard were just as important to her as they are to him.

Y/N nods, gently taking one of his hands in hers and silently makes her way through the flat. The drummer lets his eyes wander, taking in as much as he can. She leads him to her bedroom and it feels oddly reassuring to be here. He had imagined this room so many times; he had pictured her laying on that same bed so many times, playing with her hair as she talked to him.

It's surreal. It’s almost exactly like he imagined it to be in his head: soft and warm and homey. He loves it. Every inch of it screams her name. It’s cozy. A big patterned rug covered the wooden floor, and her bed’s made up with a pretty knitted blanket. And there, right above the bed, hangs a little bulletin board, holding every post card he'd ever sent her.

She smiles as she watches him wander around her room, a grin on his face. She stops herself from apologizing for the mess once again, as she moves to her bed to remove some papers and books from it.

Roger runs his index finger over the leather-bound spines of the books lining the few shelves on her walls. She must have hundreds. Her walls are lined with them and still, she doesn't have enough room for them all.

Roger pulls a small red one from the bedside table. The Velveteen Rabbit. He smiles a little to himself, flipping through the brightly illustrated pages. Y/N walks over to him, arms wrapping around his middle from behind as she kisses his shoulder before resting her head against it.

“My mum used to read this to me all the time, especially when I was sad.” He mumbles quietly, stopping on a drawing of the little boy holding the plush rabbit. “It was my favorite.”

Y/N's heart grows a few sizes at the image of a young Roger seated in his mother's lap as she read to him.

Roger's heart stutters as he flips through the pages, recounting the story of the little plush bunny, turned real by love. A knot forms in his throat as he admires the book's last illustration: the rabbit, sitting by a raspberry bush in the little boy's garden, visiting the one who had brought him to life.

Y/N feels Roger stiffen a little, and she meets his glossy eyes as he turns in her arms, “What's wrong, rockstar?”

Roger laughs breathlessly, her gentle touch calming him immensely. “Nothing. It's just...” He shakes his head a little, refusing to let his voice go watery. “It's just that I never really got it until now.”

Confusion knits her brow, “Got what?”

Roger smiles a little, looking back down at the book and then at the girl holding him. “I guess...well...Sometimes it takes being loved by someone to finally make you feel alive.”

Y/N's heart feels full of so much love she doesn’t know what to do with it. She stands there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She does the only thing she feels she can do: she tightens her arms around his waist, giving him the biggest, warmest hug, he'd ever received. His arms wrap around her, stroking up and down her back.

“I love you.” Roger whispers against her ear. It feels amazing to be able to tell her as he holds her in his arms.

“I love you too.”

Their foreheads meet as Roger's nose nudges hers, heat building slowly between them. Y/N takes a little step backwards, knowing if she inches any closer, she'd want to jump his bones more than she already does.

Roger smirks, taking a step forward. She goes a bit breathless, smiling playfully as she takes another step back, only for her back to be pressed flush against her bookcase.

He chuckles, toying with a loose strand of her hair. “Caught you.”

Y/N tries to steady her breathing as his hand cradle her face. He runs his thumb over her lower lip. “What're you going to do now?”

Her eyes trail to his lips subconsciously, “I'm going to wait for you to kiss me, rockstar.”

He grins, pressing into her. He thinks back to that night he first called her. He thinks over every moment he had been so desperate to hold her in his arms.

The moment he kisses her, Roger is brought to life.

Her lips are softer than anyone's he'd ever kissed before. The kiss is gentle, her hand moving to cradle Roger's face as they melt into one another. He tastes of sweets.

Her skin smells of cinnamon and it reminds him of the tea Freddie would drink in the morning.

Roger inhales the sweet, spicy scent as he deepens the kiss. Her fingers laced in his hair, soft and fine between her fingers, and he hums a moan against a sensitive spot below her ear, her eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

Y/N feels overwhelmed in the best way. This is what she had craved for over two years and now that it’s finally happening, she’s afraid she won't be able to commit to memory all the feelings. Roger's lips moving against her own, the rapid beating of their hears. The feeling of his breath on her neck as he lays gentle kisses on it. It’s enough to make her mind spin.

She lets his hands grip her thigh tightly as she gives in to the urge to grind against him. He refuses to let his hands leave her body: some small part of him still afraid she'll disappear at any moment.

Roger pulls her closer, keeping an arm against the wall as he grabs at her ass, rutting against her clothed heat. She lets out a whine, thoroughly enjoying the friction as wetness pools between her legs.

Y/N wants more. Craves it. Needs his hands all over her. Needs his red-stained tongue against every inch of her body. She pulls away from his lips, panting as he drags his eyes over the curve of her hips and breasts. He takes one step back, eyes locking with hers as he pulls his shirt off. Her eyes roam his chest, mouth still ajar as she tries to catch her breath. He holds her loosely in his arms, pecking her lips. He will never get enough of her sweet taste. Roger will never get enough of her.

“Rog, I...” Y/N fumbles over her words. “I...” She needs him to know. She needs him to know how much she loves him. She needs him to know how uncomfortably wet her panties are becoming. He chuckles, meeting her eyes, as she tries to remember English. Roger feels a thread of concern build in his chest. Has he made her nervous? Has he gone to far?

He presses a sweet kiss on her forehead, “What's wrong, love?”

Timidly, she takes a step away from the bookshelf, moving so that Roger is now the one with his back to it. His brow quirks with confusion. Her eyes are locked with his, cheeks flushed and hair messy. Roger swallows thickly, heart racing in his chest as he watches her slowly drop to her knees in front of him.

Her hands tremble as she unbuttons his jeans, tugging down the zipper and pulling them down off his hips. Roger has to force himself to grab her wrists, pausing her movements. “You sure?”

Y/N doesn't say a word. Instead, her eyes stay locked with his as she leans forward, mouthing at his cock through his boxers. Roger gives a whimper, his hand lacing in her hair as his head tips back against the wall. He curses under his breath at the feeling of her hot mouth on his cock.

Roger has been sucked off before. In fact, Roger has been sucked off a lot, but never once has it ever felt as good as it does right now and he isn't sure if it’s because he’s in love with her, and he's been dreaming of seeing her pretty lips around his cock for months now, or if it’s the way she’s taking him into the back of her throat, dragging her tongue over his shaft, but he can barely remember his own name. He knows e should be embarrassed by the sounds passing his lips, but he can't find it in himself to care.

Roger hadn't even realized how long it'd been since he'd had physical sex with someone. He'd forgotten how good it could feel.

He whines her name hoarsely, his fingers itching to be against her skin. “Y/N, you've got to stop, love. I won't last.”

He watches as she pulls off of him, kissing the head of his cock one last time before Roger pulls her up to meet his lips again. He has her on the bed in seconds, nearly tripping as he finishes shedding his jeans and boxers. He mounts her, wasting no time in grabbing the waist band of her pants and pulling them down over her ass, taking her panties with them. He wants to tease her. He really does but the moment he sees her cunt, all soaked and ready for him, he loses all coherent thoughts.

Her jaw drops open, seeing stars as he flattens his tongue, dragging up slowly over her sensitive folds. His mouth is hot and wet against her as he circles her clit with the tip of his tongue, sucking it expertly as her back arches off the mattress.

Roger has never been more grateful that he’s experienced. It’s as if every girl he's ever been with, had been a practice run for Y/N. He knows where to suck, where to prod and lick and devour to make her squirm and buck into his mouth. He watches her face intently as she moans and ruts against his face, the arousal from her inner thighs smearing across his cheeks. He loops his arms around her thighs, her hands clutching the bed sheet like a vice. She gasps loudly as he shoves his tongue inside her, fucking her with it as he explores the inside of her hole. She cries out, head pressing into her pillow as her legs start trembling. He can feel her clit throbbing as he returns his mouth to it, pushing two fingers inside her to replace his tongue. She screams hoarsely, and Roger smirks against her heat as he fucks her harder, crooking his fingers inside her.

“Roger, I'm cumming. Don't stop, Rog, please don't stop!” She gasps, hips rolling as she rides his face, a numbing, warm pleasure washing over her. She gives a breathy sob as Roger works her through her high with his fingers, face still buried in her cunt.

She squirms beneath him as she grows sensitive, overstimulation setting in. She whines as he presses his thumb to her clit, rubbing circles over it as he sucks at her folds. “R-Rog you can stop –”. She whimpers as he hums in response, continuing his tongue's assault on her pussy.

“Rog...” She groans again, her hips settling as the discomfort begins to melt into pleasure. God, she’s so sensitive. It’s so much. So much at once. How is she already this close? Roger chuckles against her, watching her face as his lips finds her clit again. She lets out a high-pitched moan as the pleasure begins to build again, warmth tingling till the tips of her toes. The fire in her belly increases and she grips his hair tightly as she comes on his tongue again with a silent scream. He brings her back to earth, resting his chin against her stomach as she finds her bearings, cheeks pink and chest heaving.

“Want to go again?” Smug bastard.

Y/N fights to catch her breath, “Jesus, Rog, if you go again, you'll bloody kill me.”

Roger laughs, crawling up to meet her lips. She groans, tasting herself against his tongue. “Taste like fucking candy, don't you?” His voice is thick with lust.

Y/N peels off her shirt, leaving her wearing nothing but a thin bra. Roger hooks his finger under one of the straps, pulling it down so that he can roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making her moan and arch into his touch.

Y/N wraps her hand around his cock, pumping him slowly and Roger curses, eyes rolling back as he grinds against her hand. His name slips from his lips breathlessly. Heat bubbles in Roger's veins and without a second thought, he rips her bra down the center, exposing her tits. Y/N gasps at the sudden movement, breasts heaving as Roger kneads one in his palm, mouthing at the other. She barely notices his other hand sinking lower until he has two fingers pressed up inside of her.

Y/N whines, sobbing breathlessly as he fingers her. She’s wet and tight around his fingers, clenching as he hits her g-spot with ever movement of his talented fingers. Roger groans, the idea of his cock buried inside her nearly bringing him over the edge.

“I love you.” She moans, his name like a prayer falling from her kiss-bruised lips.

Roger curses, cock twitching in her hand at the wet sounds her cunt makes against his knuckles. He nuzzles his face in the crook of her neck, sucking dark bruises into her skin.

“I need to be inside you.” His voice is desperate and hoarse. “Please, I need to fuck you.” He’s desperate with the need to be buried inside of her, to be connected totally and completely.

Y/N pulls his face up to hers so she crashes her lips to his, cradling his face as he kissed her desperately.

“Ruin me.” She whispers, hands tangled in his hair.

Roger has to grip his cock roughly to stop himself from cumming. He whimpers, lining himself up with her entrance. Y/N cries out as he sinks into her.

“Tight fucking cunt. Shit.” Roger groans into her neck. “Love you so fucking much.”

Tears of emotion well in her eyes. “I love you too.”

Y/N’s breath comes up in short pants, back arching as pleasure flows through her body. “I love you, Rog. You feel so good inside me, baby.”

Y/N bucks into him as he fucks her, the head of his cock hitting her sweet spot with every smack of his hipbones against hers. His left hand finds hers, fingers lacing between her own. He squeezes her hand lovingly, thrusting harder against her. His eyes stay locked with hers as he kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips. “My gorgeous girl.”

He moans as her free hand finds his hair. “You fuck me so good, Rog. Oh god.”

She can feel him throbbing inside her as he watches himself disappear inside of her again and again. Tears stream down Y/N's face, “I'm close Rog.” Her eyes screw shut with pleasure.

“No, look at me, baby. Look at me while you cum. I want to watch you cum on my cock,” He kisses her jaw, releasing her hand so that he can rub her swollen clit, “I've got you, sweetheart. Cum. Cum for me.”

Y/N's eyes lock with his as her body trembles, her stomach pulsing with heat and pleasure as wave after wave of bliss overwhelm her. She sobs hoarsely, clenching around him again and again.

Roger buries his face in the crook of her neck as she tightens around him, letting her pull him over the edge with her. He whimpers into her neck, biting at it to muffle his moans as he spills inside her. Her legs wrap around his hips, heels pressing into his lower back as he relaxes against her, trembling. He kisses her long and hard, emotions pouring through the simple contact.

Y/N's leg go lax, releasing Roger from her grasp but as he tries to get out of bed, she latches onto his arm, forcing him to lay on his back so she can rest her head against his chest, legs tangling with his.

Roger smiles fondly down at her, an arm behind his head as the other wraps around her shoulders, pulling her as close as he possibly can. “I was going to grab a wash cloth to clean you up, but I think you may have other ideas.”

YN nods, placing a gently kiss over his heart. She turns her face upwards, eyes drinking him in. “I just got you, I don't want you going anywhere so soon. Sheets can be washed and we can shower later. I need this moment with you.”

Roger has never felt so happy or content his whole life. He places the hand under his head on her cheek, urging her to move her face closer to his. He closes his eyes as he gently places a kiss to her swollen lips, feeling completely at peace.

Roger never believed in fate or in soulmates. Not until he met Y/N. It had been Fate that had given him her number, it had been their destiny to meet and fall in love. She completes him, understands him and his crazy lifestyle like no one ever could. He wants this moment to last forever.

Roger wants to wake up everyday beside Y/N, kiss her whenever he wants. He wants to see her in the crowd of every single one of his shows. He wants to be the one she calls when she needs help moving around books or shelves in her store.

Roger wants a life with Y/N.

“Marry me.” He wants to spend the rest of his life getting to know every single facet of her body and soul.

“What?” her heart had just returned to normal and now it’s beating erratically again, eyes wide as saucers as she looks at his angelic face.

“Marry me.” There’s no doubt in his mind that this is what he needs to bet truly happy for the rest of his days. “It doesn't have to happen right away. You're it for me. There will never be anyone else. You're the love of my life, Y/N. I want to spend every waking and sleeping moment with you.”

“Ok.”

Nothing about their relationship has been normal. Not the way they met or how they fell in love. She never wants to spend another moment away from him.

Distance really did make the heart grow fonder.

[samxslaughter]

*not my image, found on facebook*

Was just too perfect not to share.

[myfatbottomedgirls]

yo can someone write a fanfic without the reader being a total fucking pussy please. oh she doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t touch drugs. stop thinking the perfect girl is some pure angel. fuck that shit get me on the same wave length as tommy fucking lee.

[hardysbitch]

Escena de sexo. —B.H

tw: sexo sin protección, sexo oral (h y m recibiendo), casi exhibicionismo, lo siento si hay algo más y no me he dado cuenta.

English version

"¡Ben. T/n! ¡Vestuario, ahora! "

Te levantaste del sillón donde estabas sentada en el set al grito de Michael, el director de la nueva película en la que participabas.

Después de que Sidney dejara el papel, audicionaste para el rol, consiguiéndolo, y te convertiste en Pippa, una chica que se obsesiona con sus vecinos de enfrente.

Caminaste fuera del set hacía los trailers y entraste en el de vestuario, allí estaba la chicas que se encargaban del los atuendos correr de un lado al otro con perchas en las manos.

"Toma."

Una chica se acercó corriendo, dejó varias prendas en tus manos y  se fue. Caminaste de vuelta a tu trailer y te cambiaste tranquilamente, luego volviste al set.

"Bien, ya estás aquí. "Te dijo Michael. Viste que Ben se había cambiado su ropa y ya estaba allí junto a Mike. "Vamos a grabar la escena del bar ahora y después la de las fotos.

Sin darte tiempo a preguntar nada, las cosas se comenzaron a mover y empezasteis con el trabajo. Cuando menos te lo esperabas ya estabas en ropa interior mientras Ben te sacaba fotos.

"Bien, ahora ropa fuera, Benjamín."

Ben siguió con su diálogo después de decir tu frase y dejó la cámara junto a las copas de vino. Sabías que ahora venía la escena dónde Pippa y Seb, el personaje de Ben, tenían sexo y eso te ponía nerviosa porque habías tenido un crush en Ben durante años. Él se quitó el jersey y tú comenzaste a moverte nerviosa, como el guión indicaba.

Dijisteis vuestras frases y en unos pocos segundos, Ben estaba desnudo frente a tí. Intentaste no mirar, y Ben siguió haciendo su papel. Acercó su cara a la tuya y te besó. No lo sentiste cómo alguno de los besos que te habías dado en otros rodajes, lo sentiste como algo real, como algo que los dos queríais.

Pusiste tus brazos alrededor de su cuello y él en tu espalda baja mientras te conducía al sillón. Te dejaste caer y Ben te dió unos cuantos besos antes de besar tu rodilla y dejar su cara tan cerca de tu centro como para que al punto de vista de la cámara te estuviera comiendo.

Dejaste escapar los suspiros marcados en el guión y alguno más. Sentías el aliento de Ben en tu clítoris y eso te encendía. Interpretaste tu frase y Ben se levantó, se alejó de ti un momento y luego volvió hacía ti.

Te levantaste del sillón y Ben te besó de nuevo, os movisteis unos pasos y lo empujaste para que se sentara en el sillón. Él sonrió y te subiste a su regazo, él llevo su mano a su pene para colocarlo sin que te molestara y comenzaste la actuación, moviéndote de arriba a abajo sobre Ben. Él pasó sus manos por tu cuerpo y tu las pusiste en su pecho, hasta que pusiste una de tus manos en su cuello y lo apretaste un poco.

"T/n" Gimió.

"Corten" Oíste gritar a Michael detrás tuya.

Ben estaba rojo, incluso puede que más que tú, te levantaste rápidamente de su regazo y una chica te trajo una bata que te pusiste rápidamente.

"Vamos a dejarlo aquí" Dijo Michael. "Podéis iros por hoy"

No esperaste a nada más y caminaste lo más rápido posible hasta tu trailer para vestirte y poder irte al apartamento que habías alquilado en Montreal durante el rodaje de la película.

Cerraste la puerta del trailer y te quitaste la bata, buscando tu ropa con la que habías llegado por la mañana. Apenas te dió tiempo a ponerte las bragas cuando tocaron a la puerta.

Te pusiste una mano sobre los pechos y entreabriste la puerta.

"Hola" Dijo Ben parado en una bata. "¿Podemos hablar un momento?"

Asentiste algo cohibida y abriste la puerta, dejándolo entrar. Pudiste notar la no-tan-pequeña tienda de campaña en sus boxers bajo la bata. Al darse cuenta de que lo estabas viendo se cerró la bata.

"Quería pedirte perdón por eso..." "Tú me has gustado durante un tiempo y simplemente no podía privarme de disfrutar la cercanía, pero se me fue de las manos y entiendo que no quieras continuar esa escena asi que Michae-..."

"Callate" Dijiste interrumpiendolo. Ben te miró sorprendido ante la rudeza. "Lo siento, quiero decir que tú también me has gustado durante un tiempo y..."

Él no dudó un momento y caminó los dos pasos que os separaban para besarte. Agarró tu cara con sus dos manos y tu las pusiste en su cuello, siguiéndole el beso.

"Entonces, crees que podrías ayudarme con un problema? " Miró hacía abajo y tú reiste. "Solo si me ayudas con el mío" Agarraste su mano y la dirigiste hacia la humedad entre tus piernas.

Ben volvió a besarte sin quitar la mano de tu coño y gemiste en su boca. Movió sus dedos sobre tu ropa interior y la movió a un lado, tocando tu centro directamente.

No te quedaste atrás y decidiste desabrochar su bata y meter la mano en su boxer negro, en el que se podía apreciar una pequeña mancha blanquecina en la cinturilla. Quitó su mano de tu coño para quitarte la bata y aprovechaste para quitar la suya también. Masajeó tus pechos como en el set hacía unos minutos y volviste a gemir.

Separaste su boca de la tuya y pusiste tus labios en su cuello mientras el metía un dedo en tí. Besaste y chupaste su cuello cuando el metió otro dedo en tí y dejaste una marca en su cuello.

Sacó su mano de tus bragas y te las quitó para luego empujarte hacía el sillón y abrir tus piernas. Acercó su boca a tu coño y volviste a sentir la sensación de su aliento en ti, con la diferencia de que su nariz ahora rozaba tu clítoris.

"Ben, por favor"

Él te dió una mirada coqueta y pasó su lengua por todo tu centro haciéndote gemir. Intentaste callar tus gemidos mordiéndote el labio pero Ben parecía tener ganas de que la gente fuera del camerino te escuchase gemir.

Hundió un dedo en tu coño mientras succionaba tu clítoris con la boca, y con la otra mano presionaba el bulto en sus boxers. Lo empujaste por el hombro para que se apartase y él se puso de pie confundido. Cómo tú estabas sentada y Ben ahora estaba de pie su pene se quedó en tu cara, y aprovechaste para bajarle la ropa interior a Ben y meterte su polla en la boca, robándole un gruñido profundo.

Te agarró por el pelo, haciendo una coleta improvisada y tú llevaste tus manos a su culo, masajeandolo y moviendo a Ben a tu ritmo.

Al cabo de unos minutos él se corrió en tu boca y te lo tragaste sonriente, lo miraste a los ojos y te dió una mirada orgullosa. Se sentó junto a tí en el sillón y tiró de tí para que te subieras horcajadas de él. Cuando le ibas a preguntar por un condón, alguien llamó a la puerta.

"¿T/n, has visto a Ben?"

Lo miraste y el negó. "N-no"

"¿Crees que se haya ido a casa ya?"

"E-es m-muy probable" Las palabras no conseguían salir de tu boca ya que tenías a Ben besando tu cuello y masajeando tus nalgas.

"¿Estás bien? ¿Necesitas algo?"

"N-no, s-solo tengo frío. M-me est-toy cambiando"

"¿Quieres ayuda con algo?" La persona que estaba fuera intento abrir la puerta y entraste en pánico mientras Ben estaba muy concentrado en masajearse la polla.

"¡No entres! Es-estoy desnuda." Pensaste una excusa, y mentira no era.

"De acuerdo, entonces nos vemos mañana"

No te molestaste en contestar cuando viste que Ben sujetaba entre sus dientes un paquetito plateado. Se lo quitaste y lo abriste para ponerle el condón.

"Ahí vamos." Dijo antes de alinear su polla con tu coño y entrar de una estocada. Te agarraste de su hombro y los dos echásteis la cabeza hacía atrás con satisfacción.

[yelenasdog]

𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐖𝐈  𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: wherever they go, it seems they can’t escape each other

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.09k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smoking, drinking, kissing, getting ~steamy~, but nothing explicit.

𝐚/𝐧: this kinda feels melodramatic at times, but over all i think this is an alright fic that took me forever LOL! i hope you enjoy it! btw,

this can be read as ben!rog or just rog, i just was thinking of ben!rog when i wrote it

also if u wanna listen to kiwi while listening, the vibes would be immaculate and i reccomend it :D kk enjoy

✺🎬✺

Her footsteps were mute as she padded forward on the concrete, searching furiously through her crochet bag. The box in her hands stayed tightly gripped though, Roger noted. He waited a bit until he was certain she had no chance of finding what he thought she was looking for, and that he would be her last resort.

“Need a light?”

He watched with careful eyes as the girl next to him fumbled about to pick out a cigarette from the nearly emptied box, probably just some cheap ones from the gas station near the dorms.

“Yes, thanks.”

The brunet nodded, bringing his forward to her’s and inhaling, a few loose embers falling to the ground in a sparkling orange flurry.

Roger observed the way her chipped nails on ring adorned fingers shakily held the cigarette as she brought it to her lips, taking a very long drag.

It was windy out that night (which was the reason he was telling himself he decided not to bother with his Zippo), her silky black dress doing barely a thing to keep her covered from the chilly temperatures. He noticed the blue tint to her formerly painted lips, only a pale stain of color left behind. He also happened to notice the goosebumps that graced her exposed arms and legs, and her slight shiver that came with it.

The girl nervously adjusted the twisted strap to her purse, sending a glance in Rog’s direction every once in a while, but mostly she kept her gaze fixed on the stars above. She seemed to be mesmerized by the way they twinkled so brightly, even in the polluted sky. The bottles of liquor in her purse clinked together, and she cringed visibly at the sound, a shiver being sent through her bones.

He smiled at her behavior, oddly endeared by it, perhaps even enchanted.

“What’s your name?”

She turned, taking the stick from between her lips. Roger kept his eyes glued to the plump flesh momentarily despite the movement away from the area.

“That’s none of your business, Roger.” She smiled, a playful look set ablaze in her eyes.

He looked down, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“How do you know my name, then?” He questioned curiously, slanting his eyes and quirking a brow.

“Your band.” Her voice seemed softer, almost a fond tone set within it.

“You’ve seen us play?”

“Yeah, you guys are good.”

“You’re a fan then?”

She chuckled, looking to her feet.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

He laughed, nodding yet again.

They stayed together for some time, silently and mutually agreeing that enough had been said. They finished off their smokes, and with that, she turned to go.

“Bye, Roger.”

He bit his lip, feeling the sting shoot through him. He was conflicted on if to make a move, not wanting to diminish his confident and cool reputation he believed he had built for himself. He settled for shouting something along the lines of “will I see you around?” (which upon thinking back over it, maybe it wasn’t that cool), to which she only shrugged and kept walking.

He could hear the bottles loudly clanking together as she sauntered off, lord knows where to. He watched her go until she turned the corner, tossing one final look in his direction before continuing on, leaving him in deep thought.

-

“I’m telling you, mate, she was drop dead gorgeous. And I have no idea who she is, no name or anything!”

Brian rolled his eyes, tossing his notebook across the room onto the yellow sofa Roger was resting on, turning his full attention to his distraught friend.

“Well, did you ask her for her name?”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes in a similar manner to Bri. “Yes, I did. She said it was ‘none of my business’.” He scoffed, twirling a single drumstick between his fingers while tapping his foot repeatedly, annoying Brian to no end (per usual). The curly headed man only barked out a laugh, finding the entire situation quite humorous, if he was being honest.

“But she knew the band! Said that she thought we were good. S’ like she couldn’t make up her damn mind.” He grumbled, slumping forward.

“Wait, she knows the band?”

The drummer looked at him like he had two heads nodding slowly.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Brian stood up and sighed, grabbing his guitar and headed to the edge of the bar’s stage, resting behind the curtain briefly.

“You really are thick, Roger.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” He joined him by the curtain, noticing Tim had come up behind the pair.

“What’s all this about, then?”

“Nothing.” Brian and Roger replied in unison. Tim huffed, making his way onto the stage where the growing crowd was waiting. Cheers could be heard for the frontman as he introduced himself, saying something about how the rest of the band would be out in a second, and that they were just having some “sound issues”.

“Rog, if she’s a fan, she’s probably here tonight, yes?”

His eyes widened, and he suddenly began to feel quite dumb, not that he would admit it.

“Yeah, I suppose so…but she said she wasn’t a fan?” He trailed off, confused.

“She probably was just saying that for some reason. I don’t know, women are odd, they like to play hard to get.” Brian commented, oddly flippant for how conflicting his statement was.

Roger stood in place for a moment, still greatly confused what Brian was trying to get at. He shook his head and furrowed his brows, trying to put together the puzzle of this mess in his mind.

“Roger, for God's sake, don’t think about it, just go.”

Following his advice, Roger did his best to disregard any previous thoughts of confusion, a switch flipping in his mind. He stood taller, saying, “You know what Bri, maybe you’re right.”

“Great, go on then.” He watched as Roger bounded out with a newfound adrenaline and a smile plastered on his face, rolling his eyes for what wouldn’t be the final time that night at his bandmate’s antics.

As soon as he had made it behind his kit, he was scanning the crowded room, trying to locate the girl from last night. He watched the door throughout the performance, trying to see if she might have just come in a bit late. He held the hope she would somehow show up with him in his mind, but all to no avail.

The entire night, he couldn’t shake the thought of her lips from his mind, or the way the skin of her neck was so open and exposed, practically begging for him to attack it with his own lips. And with the way things were going thus far, he was sure that pretty face of her’s would be the death of him, he was certain, in fact.

“Find her?” Bri had questioned almost as soon as they had ended for the night, the lot of them now working on cleaning up.

“Nah. She never showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Rog. Maybe you’ll see her again soon, the campus isn’t that huge, you know.” Roger’s mouth formed a thin line as he raised his eyebrows, not convinced in the slightest that the situation proposed would occur.

“At this point I’m wondering if she’s even a bloody student here.” Roger grumbled, obviously no longer feeling the initial electric adrenaline of the night's performance.

Brian frowned, placing a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder and patting it once or twice before standing to go finish packing up.

It was later now, and the boys were finally leaving the bar, bidding their goodbyes to those around them. Roger walked out the front (in what Tim and Brian joked was a ‘moping manner’), hearing the bell jangle above his head, ringing annoyingly in his ear. The cold air hit him like an arctic breeze (or a ton of bricks, he wasn’t sure which description was more fitting). He shook his head and blinked a few times, as if that would rid his body of the frigid feeling. He sighed dramatically and pulled his corduroy jacket tighter around himself, watching as his breath made a small cloud in front of him.

“Roger?”

He turned, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Having a pity party, are you?” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“It’s only me, so no. Not a party.”

She “ahh”-d in understanding, her mouth forming into a sly grin. Her lips were a pale pink color that night, her eyes a bright blue shade. And similarly to the night previous, she was graced with only a brown fringed dress, her matching boots in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.

“Then what would it be if I joined you?”

He stood in thought, tilting his head. “I think then, yeah, it would be a party.”

“Do you not get cold, ever?” He added after a beat of silence, observing her ill outfit choice for the frosty climate. She rolled her eyes, muttering out a brief “ha, ha.”

Roger couldn’t help but bite his lip, holding back a laugh.

“I do on occasion get a little bit chilly. But I like the feeling.”

He tilted his head, walking over to where she was leaning against the brick wall of the dive bar. He turned to face her, not that she noticed, putting his weight on the rough surface behind him.

“It makes me feel,” she hesitated, struggling to find the right word, although she felt it was right on the tip of her tongue.

“Alive?”

She finally met his eyes after what seemed like forever, softly nodding. To him, she looked like an angel in that moment, the street light so beautifully illuminating her locks like a halo around her. He reached a cautious hand forward, dragging it against her cheek, down to her bottom lip.

Her mind was screaming at her to leave while she still could, to somehow not fall in the mix of the infamous campus player that was Roger Taylor.

But her heart? Well, as cliche as it sounds, her heart was telling her to disregard any reasonable thoughts and just kiss the bastard, for God’s sake.

And if anyone knew Y/n Y/l/n, they knew that most times, she would listen to the latter mentioned, rather than the former. And so after several moments of unbearable silence, she decided she would. Catching on relatively fast, Roger took her flush against him, Y/n able to feel his breath fanning over her face.

She leaned forward with a small smile, placing her hands on either side of his face. Her eyes wandered to his plump and rosy lips, adrenaline pumping through her veins. But before she could make the final leap, so to say, Brian, of all people, called out her name in a confused nature, squinting, believing that it might have been his eyes deceiving him. The girl from his 9 a.m. lecture could not possibly be about to snog his bandmate.

Impossible.

Her eyes widened, head turning immediately when hearing her name fall from his lips.

“Brian, hey!”

“Wait, you two know each other?”

Ignoring Roger’s (panicked) question, Brian walked over, a look of amazement still prevalent in his features. She moved from Roger’s side over to Brian, giving him a side hug, Bri’s arm resting on her shoulders.

“I see you’ve met Y/n. She’s in my astronomy class.”

She smiled brightly as the neon signs lining the downtown district of bars and restaurants alike, meeting Brians gaze.

“Yup, got to love Dr. Martin’s lectures.” She chuckled, the tall man next to her doing the same.

Picking up on Roger’s absolutely bewildered appearance, still taking in the situation unfolding in front of him, Brian took the liberty of initiating another conversation.

“So, Y/n, did you see the show tonight?”

She frowned, crossing her arms.

“Wanted to, but no, got caught up in the library. I have my final for statistics on Thursday, or else I would have been there.” She locked eyes with Roger, giving him a soft smile. Suddenly changing her demeanor, she reached into her bag she always seemed to have with her, pulling out those cheap cigarettes and her Zippo. She lit one of the sticks, inhaling.

“In fact, I heard your drummer was incredible, so I thought I would try to see him in action tonight.” Her gaze never left Rogers as she conversed, her mouth pressed in a line, the rest of her face completely neutral.

“But you’ve seen us before Y/n, he’s been with the band for quite some time.”

“I mean, I wanted to see him with a fresh pair of eyes, a different perspective, I guess.”

Still mildly confused, Brain shook his head and muttered something like “Right, okay” to which Y/n softly smiled at before dropping the cigarette from her hand. Barefoot, she couldn’t reach down to step on it, have the sparks die out under her toes.

“Could one of you get that, please?”

Roger nodded immediately, his boot finding its way quickly, the toe of it making a circular motion. His eyes stayed on Y/n, as had hers before. And despite the bustling city around them, Hell, even despite Brian’s perplexed stare, it felt oddly intimate, as if they were locked onto each other’s view (not that they were complaining).

But they weren’t, as she proved mere seconds later, abruptly bidding them goodbye and heading the opposite direction.

The pair of boys watched her as she went, heads tilted and jaws dropped to where if their mothers were present, they would be scolded to “close their mouths before they catch flies in there!”.

“That’s her, you know.” Roger commented bluntly, slightly shaking his head and then popping his lip.

Brian took a moment, turning toward his friend, stuttering.

“As in, her, her? Y/n is mystery girl?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, Rog.”

“Why would I need that, Brian?” He challenged, putting his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. Brain kept his assumed position, moving his hand to scratch at his neck.

‘Well, I’m sure if you hang out around her enough, you’ll find out.”

Rather than shouting out at him, asking him what the Hell he meant, as he really wanted to, Roger paid Bri no attention, not even giving him a second look before under his breath saying “I’ll see you later”, and in what Brian considered to be a quite shocking turn of events, bolting off in the direction Y/n had gone.

He ignored the shouts from Brian, ignored the judgmental stares and loud whispers of those who recognized him from the band. He no longer cared about keeping his ‘cool reputation’, not when she was so close.

“Is that Roger Taylor?”, “Oi, isn’t that the drummer from the band at the pub?”, “Hey, why’s he buggin’ out?” all flooded his ears, usually followed by what seemed to be snickering, making a desperate attempt to cloud his mind from his self-assigned mission. But it was no use, as he was set on catching up to her. In fact, she was so close he swore he could smell the mixed scent that was uniquely her, smoke and her perfume.

He hollered her name, God, he yelled it till his throat was hoarse, just ‘cause he could. He loved the way it rolled off his tongue, he loved the fact he even had learned it to begin with, and that alone was probably why he adored it so much.

She heard his cries, turning where she stood and tilting her head.

“Roger? What on Earth are you doing?”

He finally met her, bent over on his hands and knees, breath lost in totality. She placed a concerned hand on his sweaty head, combing through his chocolate locks. He would have shivered at the feeling, if he had the energy. Rather, he looked up with the goofiest smile she’d ever seen, resembling a golden retriever, or german shepherd perhaps, in human form.

‘D’you wanna go somewhere with me? Hang out a bit?”

She nodded, holding out a hand.

“Lead the way.”

-

“Mom and Dad want me to be some kind of a scientist, study the stars.”

“Yeah? And what do you think about that.”

She tilted her head, shifting her position.

“I’m not quite sure. I wouldn’t be against it, that I know. The stars are beautiful, but they aren’t where my heart lies, I guess.”

He turned to face her, their noses almost touching. She could feel his breath fanning over her face, and the proximity sent butterflies through her stomach.

“I want to be an actress.” She all but whispered, turning her attention back to the full night sky and the wonders that hung in it.

“An actress, huh?”

She only hummed a confirmation, moving her left hand to pick at the cool grass under her palms.

“I could see that. You, I mean, on the big screens.”

She turned, and Roger swore he had never seen anyone smile so big before in his life.

“Really?”

His own smile grew, and she nodded vigorously, the two of them beginning to laugh. He pulled her closer by her shoulders, unaware of where the conversation would lead.

“I’ll go to New York. You’ll see me on billboards in Times Square.”

“Well, that’s nice to know. I’ll just be a lone dentist somewhere, while you forget all about me, having lavish parties and such. Whatever it is that famous people do.” His voice was obviously joking, melodramatic was written all over him, yet Y/n couldn’t help but still feel a sliver of guilt.

She hit his arm, rolling back over to face him. She still had a smile glued onto her lips, both of their eyes crinkling at the edges. 

“Oh, shut up, will you? Smile will make it big, and we’ll meet again, when you’re on tour. Or perhaps if I’m filming where you’re performing! We’ll have those nights to ourselves, It’ll be a secret rendezvous.”

She turned to her back again, finding his hand on the damp green, her heart beating a million miles a second as she reached for it, slowly entangling her fingers in his.

“The papers will write about us, Rog, when they find out. ‘Famous actress Y/n Y/l/n seen leaving a hotel with renowned drummer Roger Taylor’ is what the headlines will say. God, what a scene we’ll cause.” Her eyes were full of  excitement as she spoke, her heart feeling like it was so filled with glee that it could soar out of her chest.

“Well, I wanna know the specifics.” Roger sat up, pulling her up with him, she giggled, and the brunette wrapped a hand around her waist. She sat beside him, the streetlight by the backroad she had led them on illuminating her like a silhouette. She bit her lip and grinned, tilting her head up to better exam Rogers angelic features.

“Are you gonna have some bloke waiting for you at home, hmm? Waiting for you while you conquer the world, only for you to break his poor heart?”

“Nah.” Her answer was immediate, her eyes honest as she spoke. “Only a cactus. He’ll be my only friend. I hear it’s lonely in Hollywood, Roger.” He raised his eyebrows briefly at this, choosing his next words.

“You’ll have me?”

His head turned to look at her, admiring the way the pale moonlight illuminated her, the artificial light from the streetlamps not doing her neverending beauty and justice, in his opinion. Their eyes seemed sporadic, searching each other's faces for signs of what they were doing, possibly being wrong, but they found nothing, as expected.

The yearning had become all too much for the inspired pair, and it felt like at last, all they could do, the only thing they could do, was kiss.

So they did. Roger took her face in his hands, closing his beautiful eyes, his eyelashes barely brushing against hers. He leaned forward, joining them together, finding that they immediately moved in a perfect synchronization. They were like two sides of the same coin, and that seemed to be particularly evident in that moment. By the contrast of their lips, or perhaps the aspirations of their careers becoming somehow just a little bit clearer.

But it didn’t matter, none of it did. Not in the long run. So they pulled apart, chests heaving and faces painted with childish grins.

It was quiet then, only the crickets and the howling wind could be heard. But she liked it that way, preferred it, actually. So quiet, in fact, that Roger was able to fall fast asleep, Y/n lying comfortably in his arms. She stared at the stars, then back to his sleeping figure, her mind unable to come to a consensus on what on God's green Earth she was to do. 

She settled for placing a kiss on his jaw, closing her eyes. His eyes only fluttered, never waking completely. She muttered something like “See you, rockstar.” against it, before standing up and walking away, only turning back once to see his sleeping form one more time.

That was the last time for 6 years that he would see Y/n Y/l/n. See her in person, at least.

When he woke up the next morning, he was confused to say the least, wondering why Y/n didn’t wake him, mostly wondering where she had even gone. He looked around himself, patting the green grass beneath him, as if she somehow was invisible and he had missed her upon initial glance. He had shouted for her, his throat still hurting from when he did the same thing only 12 hours previous. 

He had felt out of control, like the one he had been chasing had just slipped through his fingers (which it had). He had remembered asking Bri, day after day, if he had seen her in class, even just seen her around in general. Everytime the answer was the same.

“No Roger”, “I’m sorry, Roger”, “Not today, Roger”. It was a horrible, predictable pattern, that he had enough of. He was supposed to recover from it quickly, bounce back from her almost immediately, as there was basically nothing to bounce back from.

But he couldn’t, and due to such reasons, he supposed he finally understood what Brian had said, or warned, that night before he had gone chasing after her. He got it, in his own sad way.

And over the years, she slowly faded to the back of the drummer's mind, behind groupies, and songs, and shows, and such, just for her to resurface again any time he saw her on a billboard, just as she had promised. But he never let it show, outwardly at least.

He had made Brian swear not to tell the others, never to breathe a word of it to Deaky or Fred. He was embarrassed by it, for some reason, and that’s why he guessed he forbade him from speaking of it. But how long can you keep a silly college secret from your nosy bandmates? Apparently 6 years, tops, for Roger Taylor.

“Alright, everyone. Gather ‘round, I’ve got a surprise.” Freddie had said, his grumbling bunch of friends tired from their day’s work. Though, they usually had grown to appreciate and look forward to Fred’s “surprises”, today everyone was just a tad bit too grumpy to try (a certain Roger Taylor in particular, let’s call it foreshadowing).

“Oh, stop your moaning and whining, please, I promise this will be good!” the eccentric frontman had said, something hidden behind his back in his left hand.

Rog ran a hand through his, now, blond hair, exhaling in such a way that made Freddie slant his eyes, before giving in and rolling them at his flippant behavior.

“What’s going on, Fred?” Brian had been the brave soul to ask, stepping forward and then looking away momentarily to place his guitar onto a stand waiting not so far away.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He replied, jumping down from his place on the risers, removing his hand from his back and holding out what seemed to be 4 tickets to something. He walked down the loosely formed line of men, putting one in each of their extended palms. Roger, at the end of their formation of sorts, became concerned when Brian had burst out laughing, looking to his right, being met with Roger’s face of confusion.

Freddie, possibly more confused than Roger, pressing the piece of thick paper into his hand, his gaze falling onto Brian, who now had tears in his eyes.

“Bri, what’s so… funny. Shit.” He had looked down to the slip, the only words he needed to read to know he was absolutely screwed, being “Jaws” and “Premiere”.

Now, anybody who knew anything, knew that Y/n Y/l/n was going to be in the film that was said to become the blockbuster of the summer, playing the role of Ellen Brody (though a few had said she was far too young for the job). She had been an overnight success in the film industry, gaining popularity from the 1973 film, ‘The Sting’, playing Billie.

And Roger had watched ‘The Sting’, and you can imagine his surprise when Y/n had sauntered onto screen, red lipped and fresh faced. (He had to admit, she looked great in a suit.)

After that, the assault on Roger’s fragile heart was never ending.

Billboards began to pop up even more frequently as she was to star in more films, and it seemed no matter where he was touring, he couldn’t escape her. Whether it was posters, her face printed on newspapers, adverts in about every place business was done for one of her films, he felt like he was being followed. He had even seen an article about her in a magazine, and when he had flipped the page he was greeted with Queen’s smiling faces.

He had stopped watching them after ‘American Graffiti’.

So, he figured that this one wouldn’t be any different, and he simply planned on ignoring said film until he caved, doing his best to avoid her on the silver screen and anywhere else, which hadn’t been too difficult until this point (not).

But this? This was a whole new level of being royally fucked.

“Brian, Rog, something you want to share with the rest of the class?” John had asked, cocking his head and propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. Brian began to speak, wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders, the shorter man looking up at him with angry fire burning in his eyes.

“Well, I’m honestly quite excited. The film industry has always seemed very intriguing, actually, and I’m looking forward to meeting new people. Rog?”

“No.”

“No?” John repeated, “No, what?” He waved a hand around, trying to understand what Roger’s problem was.

“I just- I don’t- I knew-”

“Roger had a fling with Y/n Y/l/n and she broke his heart.” Brain blurted out, Roger turning and immediately smacking him upside his curly head of hair. He regarded an “Ouch!” before him and the rest of the boys burst out laughing, the drummer not included in that demographic, fuming.

“Rog, darling, when was this? How did we not know?” Freddie managed to breathe out, sitting down next to Deaky on the studio sofa. He crossed his hands and ankles, his full attention turned towards Roger who really, really didn’t wanna have to do this, and who really, really was gonna get Brian back for this later. Would he untune all his guitars? Unplug his amp during rehearsals, perhaps put hair remover in his shampoo? But, that would have to wait until after he was forced to spill his 6 year secret.

“It was in 69-”

“69?!” Freddie had cried out. “It’s been 6 bloody years? And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“Well I didn’t really see a reason it would be necessary to tell you all! In fact, I probably wouldn’t have told you ever if this bloke didn’t have such a big mouth!”

“Hey, watch it.” Brian weighed in, crossing his arms and fluttering his eyes.

“Look, Roger I really don’t see the issue here. We go to the premiere, you just keep a low profile and ignore Y/n, problem solved.” John cut in, trying to be helpful.

Keyword: trying.

“And how exactly will I do that?”

“We will behave, I promise.” Freddie added, though Roger seemed to be having a difficult time believing him or his claim for the others. So Roger only scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

-

Cameras were flashing brightly, reporters and such were shouting loudly, and Y/n was already exhausted.

Her red lips were painted like DeAngelo had done it himself, and her hair was styled just the way she liked. The heels she was wearing per request of her stylist, though, were horrible. They looked lovely, yes, but they were digging into her poor ankles, and she still had to wear them for who knew how long. She didn’t complain, though, she wouldn’t dream of it.

She would just continue her slow walk down the carpet, a sultry smile on her face. The black fabric of the gown she was wearing fit her beautifully, snug in all the right places.

She sure hoped it was, at least. Especially because she knew that he would be there.

Roger Taylor, the blessed drummer that managed to make a home in the backburner of her mind, his success coming as no surprise to the actress. She had loved every one of their records, and rather than running from his work like Roger had, she opted for going straight to the record shop, purchasing any and every Queen album in her sight. When she had checked out, the very shocked cashier had made some remark, asking something about “you a fan?”

She had thought about it for a moment, thinking back to all those years ago when Roger had asked the same thing. She smiled, shrugging.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

So when she had worked up the courage to invite the entire band to the premiere (on behalf of Spielberg, of course) she was a nervous wreck to find out they had accepted. Really, ask anyone who had any contact with her in the time from then to the premiere, they could testify that her moodiness had risen like a hot air balloon.

Now, though, she was kind of regretting that she had invited them, looking over to the sharp looking bunch, all dressed to the nines. She scanned her eyes over them, catching a wave from Brian, which she gladly returned with an enthusiastic smile. Bri then tapped Roger on the shoulder to alert him of Y/n’s acknowledgment, which resulted in Y/n’s eyes widening to the size of moons.

She turned her head, and worked to finish up her walk of the carpet just a tad bit faster. It all seemed to be for nothing, though, as in the dark of the theater for the premiere itself, she saw the seat next to her be filled, a presence filling her senses.

“Miss me?”

-

Their hands were all over each other, not truly caring if the tabloids caught a glimpse, just needing to make up for lost time.

They had stumbled into the golden hotel both her and Queen were staying in, the swinging doors of the New York establishment blowing a cool gust of wind in their direction.

They merely laughed at the minor interruption, their teeth clashing as they both smiled momentarily. It was soon forgotten, though, both of them having much more pressing matters in their minds.

They only came to a cease in the elevator, some old couple who most definitely did not care about whatever pressing issue the two of them felt they had, standing off to the side. (Y/n could swear she saw the older woman smirk and wink at her, to which she cocked her head and smiled.)

Once back into the safe confines of Y/n’s suite, they resumed like they had never even stopped, hands gravitating towards the others form as if they were opposite magnets, unable to be separated for too long.

“You’ve driven me crazy, you know that, right? “

She giggled and bit her lip, looking up into his eyes, their foreheads pressed together.

“Mmm? I’d hope so.”

He pulled away, shaking his head, blond locks following suit.

“Really, you have no idea. I haven’t been able to shake you from my head. You’re everywhere.”

Her excitement could barely be contained at his confession of sorts, chest heaving, trying to stay calm.

“Yeah, that was the plan.”

Roger shook his head with a dry chuckle, looking to his feet and back to her when she had tilted his head up, her finger resting on his jaw.

“Well, are you into it?” She questioned, grabbing his hand and pulling their clasped fingers in between their chests, her eyes hazy with hope.

“Yeah.” He titled his head, feigning a pondering look. “You could say I’m kinda into it.”

“Shut it!”

“Make me.”

She rolled her eyes at his stupidly provocative suggestion, and he only laughed, the two of them falling onto the plush comfort of the bed in a meshed flurry for the remainder of the night.

And if you couldn’t guess what could have possibly happened next, the black dress ended up in a pooled up pile next to the bed that night, right next to the heels that finally she had the pleasure of discarding.

The next morning, it was unlike the one 6 years ago, as when Roger woke up, he was overjoyed to find a sleeping Y/n, laying on his chest with hair splayed around her. And he had to say, he usually wasn’t much of a cuddler, but for some reason he felt so incredibly endeared, that anything else wouldn’t have sufficed.

He ran small circles on the exposed skin of her bare shoulder, the comforter concealing the rest of her limbs that were tangled up with Roger’s.

When she stirred, Roger sat up, fondly watching as her eyes fluttered open and her tongue ran across her dried lips, still carrying a hint of last night's red pigment. She looked next to her, her eyeline matching up with the covered skin of Roger’s lap.

She sighed, shifting her head to rest on his thighs as her feet dangled off of the bed. One of Roger’s hands came up to softly massage the top of her head, the other against the headboard, behind his neck. She stared at the ceiling, an unreadable expression creeping its way to her features.

“We were jacked up last night.” Roger’s voice cut through the silence they shared, deeper in the late morning than she had heard before.

“Correction, you were jacked up.”

“Whatever.”

They laughed, silence soon taking over once again. Roger sighed, closing his ever tired eyes.

“Are we gonna pay for this?”

She scoffed, inhaling deeply before reaching over to the nightstand, grabbing her carton of cigarettes. He noticed they were the same brand from college, a small smile making its way to his face at the thought.

She first lit hers, then lighting a second one for the man occupying her king sized bed (though she wasn’t even slightly upset by this, quite the opposite). She handed it to him, sticking her own between her lips and sitting up, straddling where her head had been minutes before.

She leaned forward, so close their noses were to the point where they were nearly touching. She took the cigarette from her lips, blowing the smoke to the left of Rog in the direction of the large balcony overlooking Times Square. She turned her attention back to him, though it had never really left, tilting her head.

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” The answer came immediately, no careful consideration or pondering needed.

“Right.” She removed herself from him, standing and taking the sheet with her, letting it cover her like a renaissance dress. She walked over to the balcony, leaning against the frame of the double doors. She took another drag, an adoring smile spreading across her face.

“Then there’s your answer.”

She paused, Roger tilted his head, his brows lifting.

“Of course we will.”

✺🎬✺

if u liked that hot mess pls like and rb!! mwah ily go eat protein and drink water if ur able. xx hj

[blueeyedheizer]

distraction - frank mccullen (SMUT)

WANINGS: smut (m on f), unprotected sex because frank is a dumbass, awkward dialogue but that's literally the whole movie and um I think that's it? do not interact/read if you are under 18

A/N: I think this might be one of my fav ben fics i've written so far 😳

•••

Sitting on the edge of your bed you took another swig from your drink, allowing the alcohol to burn the back of your throat and grimacing at the feeling. You really weren't used to this kind of stuff.

And yet, staying alone at home drinking away your sorrow until god knows what time of the night seemed like your only option after you just recently broke up with your boyfriend of two years.

It had been a week already since you parted ways, but it felt like everyday was harder than the last. You couldn't even really say you were sad, you mostly felt angry, disgusted. The bastard had cheated on you with some girl he had met a bunch of weeks prior. "You weren't supposed to find out that way" he had said after you caught them fucking in your bed. That same bed you're currently sitting on.

Scoffing at the memory, you placed the bottle to your lips again and drank, groaning at the taste before placing the bottle on the floor and flopping back down onto the mattress. You crossed your hands on your stomach, staring up at the ceiling quietly, the only source of sound being the soft ticking of the clock.

That was until you were startled by three loud knocks on your front door.

"God, what now?"

You carried your body out of the room and made your way downstairs to open it. Once you recognised the face behind the door you raised your eyebrows, tilting your head questioningly.

"Now, now. Franck McCullen. It's pretty late to be knocking on a young lady's door isn't it?"

"Hi. Yeah, I, um. I just wanted to check up on you, see how you're doing." you shrug, nodding your head and crossing your arms over your chest.

"I'm doing great. Thanks." you lied.

A heavy, awkward silence filled the air as you waited for him to say something. You eventually spoke up, seeing that he didn't seem to do anything other than stare and open his mouth only to close it moments later.

"So...is that it? Can I go back to bed now?"

"Uh. Yeah, sure. Sorry."

"Cool." you pursed your lips and nodded, getting ready to close the door. You heard a muffled curse and Frank pressed his hand on the wooden surface, preventing you from closing the door. He cleared his throat.

“You know, Y/N...I’m pretty good at providing distractions.” he says cockily, propping his arm on the doorframe and pinching the bridge of his nose awkwardly. You laughed at his attempt at flirting (or whatever that was), eyes growing wide in exasperated disbelief.

"You are?"

"Mhm."

"Alright. Come on in then." Frank's eyes widened and he suddenly straightened from his position. You scoffed and rolled your eyes before stepping aside.

--

"Want anything? Coffee, tea, maybe something with a little more kick to it?" you asked as you made your way over to the kitchen. He declined your offer so you poured yourself a cup of tea and walked back to him, taking a seat opposite him around the small table.

"So... what exactly do you want, Frank?" you leaned back against your chair, crossing your legs as you stirred your tea.

"Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, with, uh. With the break up, and all." he says, scratching the back of his head and shifting awkwardly on his seat.

"So you came to my house at two o'clock in the morning just to check up on me?"

"I mean, yeah. I care about you, you know." he says almost defensively.

"You barely know me."

"I do know you."

"Have you been stalking me?"

"What? Jesus, no! I just— Just thought you might want some company, I know how break ups can be." you hum, bringing the cup to your lips.

"So you thought I'd want company from a boy I barely know, at two o'clock in the morning?" you insisted. Your eyebrow raised and you had to stop yourself from laughing as you watched his expression drop. "I'm just messing with you." you rolled your eyes playfully, chuckling at his reaction. He awkwardly laughed along, scratching his neck. He was so uncomfortable you could've sworn he was going to run off at any moment. "Thank you Frank. You actually spared me a hangover."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. My plan for tonight was to drink until I fall asleep." you leaned over the table, placing your chin in your hands. "Not the best idea, right?" you said, face scrunching up as you looked back at him. You exhaled deeply. "But you know what?" you stood up and moved to the staircase. "I think I could use a distraction. So, if your offer still stands... I'll be upstairs."

Without a word, you made your way up the stairs, leaving a rather flustered Frank behind you.

-

Without much surprise he was in your room within seconds. He sat on your bed after you told him to, watching your every move.

You chuckled at the way his eyes widened when you popped the button on your jeans, unzipping them before sliding them down your legs. You then proceeded to take off your shirt, exposing your naked chest. You didn't miss the way his breath caught in his throat at the sight, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. With the hint of a smirk playing on your lips you moved to stand in front of him.

Frank swore under his breath.

"Sorry. I haven't really had the courage to doll up lately." you shrug, referring your basic underwear and lack of bra wearing. "Distract me, Frank." you demanded. His eyes were wide open, lips parting and closing without a word coming out as he devoured your body with his gaze. You raised an eyebrow at him and snapped your fingers in front of his face, causing him to finally snap out of it.

"O-Okay. Yeah."

He slowly placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer before pressing a shy kiss to your lower stomach. Your hands moved to thread your fingers in his hair encouraging him to keep going, which he did. You sighed as he slid his hands down to grab your butt, squeezing and massaging it gently. His mouth traveled across your skin, now pressing open mouthed kisses anywhere he could reach.

"Can I?" he motioned to your underwear, his fingers trailing over the only fabric left on your body. You nodded to give him your consent, and with that he hooked his fingers into the waistband, slowly tugging the material down to fully expose what he needed to work with.

He took a moment to admire your body again, his chest starting to heave heavily from just the sight of it.

"You're... you're fucking gorgeous."

"Thanks."

He pressed one last kiss to your stomach while keeping eye contact with you before pushing you back a little to get down on his knees, ready to finally give you what you wanted.

Your body jolted forward slightly and you let out a small moan when his tongue came in contact with your clit, teasingly stroking the bundle of nerves with the tip, your standing position allowing him to reach it mostly. You parted your legs just a little and used your fingers to part your lips and give him a better access, already feeling your breathing start to shorten from the way his tongue began to quickly flick over your clit and explore a little bit more of you.

"Fuck." You let your head fall back, biting your bottom lip as he pleasured you, a small smirk curving your lips as you ran your hand through his hair, fingertips gently scratching his scalp and pulling him closer.

Although you had already broken up with your now ex-boyfriend, this felt like payback. How you wished he would just walk into the room and see you like that, already moved on from him, another man taking good care of you.

You moaned as Frank hummed against your most sensitive area, sending vibrations up your body. Any and all hesitation had completely vanished from his body, being remplaced with lust. Your knees rapidly began to weaken and your legs tensed with pleasure, each tortuously slow stroke of his tongue that came with the perfect amount of pressure applied on your clit along with the occasional suction drawing you closer to your climax.

"You like that baby?"

"Yeah." you breathed out between whimpers, looking down at him and cupping his cheek with the hand that was previously in his hair, only to slide it back there as he dived back in. Your vision began to blur, eyes rolling to the back of your head at how good that felt.

But before you could reach your high he pulled away, causing you to whine.

"Fuck I was so close,"

"I know baby. Lay down for me now yeah?" you did as you were told, letting your legs dangle off the bed as you spread them. Frank kneeled between them, pressing hot kisses along your inner thighs and gradually moving back up to your soaked center.

"So, so pretty." you whined again, getting impatient as the throbbing between your legs increased with every second. "You have no idea how many times I've imagined this. The Y/N Y/L/N all spread out for me, moaning my name as I eat her pussy." your hand slid up your chest to grab your breast as he spoke and you moaned impatiently, hips bucking up.

He started off by licking a long stripe up from your entrance to your clit, flicking it teasingly for a moment before going back to licking up and down your folds, gathering your wetness and spreading it around, his groans of appreciation sending the most intense vibrations up your body. Your chest was rising and falling heavily as you closed your eyes, one hand reaching down to grip his hair again, holding his head between your legs while the other busied itself with your breast.

"F-Fuck you're so good." you whined, arching your back in pleasure. Your walls clenched around nothing and your hands fisted as you writhed underneath him, whining, panting heavily, wanting nothing more than to reach your orgasm. When you began bucking your hips too much for his liking he flattened one hand on your stomach, holding you in place

"Please," you whined. You didn't even know what you were begging for, but you desperately needed more.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want."

"Make me cum— please make me cum," you whined. Frank smirked up at you before dipping downward again, this time focusing solely on your clit to give it the attention it so desperately needed, sucking on it all while stroking it with his tongue, sliding two fingers inside you at the same time. You cried out at the sudden sensation of being filled, your walls contracting around his fingers as he curled them and twisted them, nudging your g-spot repeatedly.

"Yesyesyesyes right there, Frank— fuck, right there!" you screamed, body arching against him. Within seconds the knot in your stomach burst, your thighs shaking and hips jerking uncontrollably up as an intense orgasm washed over your body.

You stayed sprawled out on the bed for a moment, working on getting your breathing back under control while Frank kissed along the skin of your inner thighs, waiting for you to calm down.

Once you could breathe properly again you held yourself up on your elbows, meeting his eyes. His cocky smirk was glued on his lips, clearly happy with what just happened.

"He only went down on me twice." you admitted, still a little out of breath.

"His loss. I could eat your pussy everyday and all fucking day baby." You bit your bottom lip and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him to you and crashing your lips together in a hungry kiss as you fell back on the bed. His hard on was showing through his pants and he moaned as you reached down to palm him.

"I want you inside me. Now." he smirked and reached into his back pocket, looking for a condom. He then reached into the other one, then into his front pockets.

"Shit."

"What?"

"I-I don't have a condom." he stuttered, silently cursing himself.

"You come over here to fuck me and you don't even bring a condom!?"

"That's not what I—"

"For fuck's sake, just shut up." you shut him up by pressing your lips against his in a rough kiss before pulling away again. "I'm on the pill. Are you clean?"

"Yeah."

"Good, me too."

He nodded and made quick work of his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers only enough to free his cock. The panting of your breathing only increased when he grabbed his length and ran the tip up and down your soaking folds a few times before slowly pushing a few inches in, barely containing a groan as he did.

"I'm not gonna last long."

"Me neither. Now please fuck me."

"As you wish baby." he replied and suddenly thrusted his hips forward, causing you to cry out. He immediately set a quick pace, each rough thrust of his cock steadily pushing you towards a second orgasm. Your pornographic-like moans resonated through the walls of your small room, your bed repeatedly hitting the wall as your breasts bounced from the roughness of his thrusts.

"Cum all over my cock baby, let go." Frank's breath came out in short gasps as he neared his high and you could feel his thrusts start to become sloppier. His hand found its way down to mess with your clit and that was all it took for the knot in your stomach to explode, continuous whimpers falling from your lips followed by praises of his name as you came for the second time that night, your nails scratching and digging hard into his skin. Frank followed closely, deep throaty groans leaving his lips while hot spurts of cum coated your walls, the feeling causing your eyes to roll back in your head.

Frank collapsed on the bed next to you and pulled his pants back up, breathing heavily, skin clammy with sweat. Meanwhile you threw the sheet over your lower body, closing your eyes and sighing deeply.

And soon enough, the ticking of the clock could be heard again as a heavy silence filled the room, only both of your now steady breathing accompanying the sound.

"Now, if I want to reach you..." Frank started, breaking the silence. "do you have a number I can call, or...?"

You looked over at him.

"My phone's broken."

"Okay, well...why don't I give you mine? Do you have a pen?" he asks. You nod towards your bedside table and hum.

"In the drawer."

Frank grabbed a paper and a pen from the drawer and quickly wrote down his number.

"I tell you what. Why don't I leave you my address too? You know, just in case you're in the neighborhood, you wanna stop by. I mean, I'm always there." he wrote his address under his number, put the pen down then turned to face you again. "Not that I don't do anything, like. You know, i'm quite important. Well, I will be. I've got plans—" you interrupted his rambling with a finger to his lips, shushing him softly as you held yourself up on your elbow.

"Stop talking so much." your thumb brushed over his lower lip, your eyes following its movement. You leaned in slowly, close enough for you to feel each other's breath on your lips, then you closed your eyes and pressed your lips against his ever so gently. The kiss was gentle and slow, as if savoring the moment, soaking it in. It was almost comforting; you were glad he didn't try to turn it into something more. After a moment you pulled away, lips still hovering close to his.

"You should go now." you murmured and he nodded, his eyes going from your eyes to your lips. He got up and made his way over to the door, stopping halfway.

"You know where to find me."

"I do." you offered him an amused smile. "Good night, Frank."

→ feedbacks are more than welcome. Wether it's just a keyboard smash, an emoji or a single world, it's always appreciated and motivating. ♡

Part 2

[benismyqueen]

HOME — PARTE UNO

Vivir con Roger y Freddie es vivir cada día una nueva aventura. Nunca te habías sentido tan llena teniendo tan poco.

Advertencias: ninguna

Palabras: 2306

Ya pasó una semana desde que apareciste en el apartamento de Freddie y Roger, y te ayudaron a deshacer tus dos maletas. Parece muy lejano el momento en el que Freddie te ayudó en la casa de tus padres a meter toda tu vida en dos bolsas. 7 días pueden ser una eternidad cuando te lo pasas tan bien.

La rutina era fácil de seguir, por la mañana compartís el desayuno que suele ser medio vaso de leche mezclado con un poco de agua, así engañáis vuestra vista pareciendo un buen vaso, y lo mezclais con una cucharada de café cada uno. Luego ambos te acompañan a la facultad. Es fácil ya que los tres estudian realmente cerca, así que os metéis en la furgoneta de Roger y os despedís para cada uno ir a su edificio correspondiente. Pero a la salida debes tomar un autobús que te lleve al mercadillo de Kensington donde tienen un puesto de ropa de segunda mano. Ambos abandonan dos horas antes sus clases para poder abrir el puesto y ganar algo de dinero extra. Y se aseguran de dejarte algunas monedas para el transporte. A regañadientes las aceptas pero siempre terminas haciendo el recorrido a pie. Al menos de momento hace buen tiempo, pero el frío nunca abandona Londres del todo.

Por las tardes les ayudas como mano de obra gratuita en el puesto del mercadillo. Normalmente colocando las prendas que la gente descoloca, y asegurando a cada cliente lo bien que le queda la prenda que se han probado, aunque sea una vil mentira. Pero necesitáis el dinero.

Descubres que no suelen comer, de vez en cuando un amigo suyo se pasa por ahí y les deja algún bocadillo y algo de agua.

A eso de las 9pm cierran el mercadillo, y siendo muy de noche se suben a la camioneta y vuelven a su caja de zapatos llamada hogar. Roger te agradece todas las noches las cenas que preparas, tienen muy poca comida en la cocina, pero te descubres cocinando todos los días patatas cocidas, huevos cocidos y arroz. Agradeces que de pequeña eras muy mala a las horas de las comidas, y tus padres tenían que usar todo su ingenio para que toda la comida pareciese apetecible para ti, así que sabes con los mismos ingredientes hacer comidas diferentes.

Algunas veces es puré de patata con huevo cocido. Otras revuelto de patatas con huevos fritos. Y cuando cocinas arroz, usas el tomate para hacer salsa, y los vasos del gabinete para que quede con forma de cilindro.

Después de recoger la cocina os quedáis una hora en el salón compartiendo anécdotas del día, pero estáis tan cansados que alguna vez os habéis quedado dormidos en el suelo en alguna posición extraña. Pero siempre despiertas en la cama de Freddie al día siguiente, en una esquina de la pequeña cama, con tu amigo aplastándote.

Siempre se disculpa y dice que tiene el sueño tan profundo que nunca se acuerda que duerme con una chica. Está tan apenado que siempre le perdonas. Sabes que no se aprovecha de la situación para acercarse a ti de una manera sexual. Es muy complaciente y comprensivo contigo para eso. Pero realmente quieres darle una patada en la espinilla cuando despiertas de madrugada muerta de calor con su peso en tu espalda.

Esa rutina se rompe los sábados y los domingos. Los sábados madrugan para ir al mercadillo, y por la noche van a un pub a tocar. Tienen una banda. Si, claro que lo sabias. Y claro que Freddie estuvo meses rogándote que vayas a verlo y así conocer a sus amigos, pero esos eran los días para estudiar. Y así sigue.

Mientras ellos se ausentan el sábado por la mañana, te encargas de limpiar el apartamento, ventilar el olor a cigarrillo y quizá hacer alguna compra. Luego el resto del tiempo estudias y esperas a que vuelvan a casa. Normalmente suelen venir sobre las tres de la mañana con algunas cervezas de más, pero es divertido cuando consigues persuadir a Freddie de dormir con las sábanas enrolladas así poder mantenerlo quieto durante unas horas, sin tener que aguantarlo sobre tu espalda.

Sujetas bien tu bolsa con los libros de la universidad, y sales del edificio al frío invierno en Londres. Agradeces que no llueve, y puedes caminar sin sufrir hasta Kensington. Con la mano por encima del pantalón notas las pequeñas monedas de Freddie para tomar el autobús. Ajustas tu abrigo y sigues caminando. ¿Qué son dos kilómetros? Absolutamente nada. Les debes la vida a esos dos muchachos, no puedes aprovecharte de su hospitalidad.

Al cabo de un rato te arrepientes de ir caminando. Hace bastante viento, y a pesar de que llevas dos camisetas debajo de tu suéter, y tu abrigo, sientes como el frío se te cuela hasta los huesos. Ni siquiera sientes los dedos de los pies.

Incluso al respirar puedes sentir el frío en el interior de tu nariz.

Ya sientes como llegas al mercadillo cuando el olor a comida de uno de los puestos llega a tu nariz. Patatas con salchichas. Sientes como te rugen las tripas cuando te acercas.

"¿Puede darme dos vasos con patatas y salchichas?" Preguntas cuando estás lo suficientemente cerca.

"Serán 3.50 dólares" Te mira con una mirada algo extraña el hombre detrás del mostrador.

"Ningún problema" Intentas sonreír y notas como las comisuras de tus labios algo agrietadas se estiran.

Es un puesto algo sucio y de poca fiabilidad, pero no es como que os podáis permitir una comida de vanguardia. Y un vaso enorme lleno de patatas fritas y salchichas picadas suena muy apetecible después de desayunar leche con agua.

Agradeces al señor del mostrador cuando te da la comida y la vuelta y te diriges a toda prisa al puesto de Freddie y Roger. Es bastante reconocible porque toda la juventud se detiene ahí. Roger es muy simpático y amigable, además de popular. Y Freddie es tan carismático que cae simpático a todo el mundo. Aunque muchas veces se quejan de eso. Mucha gente va de paso, pero muy poca gente va a comprar realmente.

"¡Al fin! Pensábamos que te había pasado algo. ¿Anda muy solicitado el transporte público?" Freddie está esperando en la entrada cagado de frío. Está tan preocupado que ni siquiera notó la comida.

"Algo así. Me trajeron unos amigos. Os he traído esto" Mientes porque sabes que en ningún escenario posible, Roger y Freddie aceptarían la comida de saber que la conseguiste con el dinero del autobús.

"¡Rog, Mackenzie ya llegó!" Freddie te empuja dentro del puesto. Agradeces que no hace tanto frío como fuera, pero sin duda sigue haciendo demasiado frío.

"Oye tú" Roger aparece detrás de un burro lleno de ropa.

"Oye tú" Lo imitas con una sonrisa. "Os traje comida. Supongo que estaréis hambrientos" A Roger se le iluminan los ojos al ver los vasos con comida.

Freddie te arranca uno de los vasos.

"¿Cómo lo has conseguido?" Pregunta con la boca llena de comida.

"Oh, unos chicos se ofrecieron a traerme. Comimos algo y les convencí de que seguía hambrienta para que me comprasen algo más."

"Cariño, no hace falta que te prostituyas por nosotros" Freddie deja un beso grasoso en tu mejilla y sale rápidamente para captar más clientes.

"Me casaría contigo" Roger se acerca y toma el vaso de comida.

"Seguro que eso se lo dices a todas las chicas que te traen patatas con salchichas" Ruedas los ojos con una sonrisa.

"Salchipapas" te corrige "Y de dudosa procedencia en un puesto de mala calidad"

"Y que seguramente no cumple las medidas de higiene"

"Estoy seguro de que no las cumple" Roger se sienta en el sofá y te mira.

Te sientes incómoda. Aún no ha probado la comida, y ni siquiera hace caso de su vaso humeante. A ti no te duraría ni cinco minutos. En cambio te está mirando a ti, con una mirada que no sabrías descifrar.

"¿Quieres que lo compartamos?" Te sonríe señalando el vaso.

"Oh, no. Yo ya he comido" Intentas no ponerte nerviosa y rezas para que el olor no llegue a tus fosas nasales. No querrás que tus tripas suenen.

"Vamos, siempre hay hambre para unas patatas" Te sonríe de esa forma. Sabe que eres incapaz de decirle que no a esa sonrisa y esa mirada. Rodando los ojos te dejas caer en el sofá.

"Solo para que lo sepas" Habla con la boca llena de patatas fritas. "No comparto con todas las chicas mis salchipapas"

Suspiras cuando cruzas la puerta de vuestra caja de zapatos. ¡Al fin!

Freddie es el primero en ir corriendo al baño para darse una ducha.

Te dejas caer en el sofá. Estás demasiado cansada. Si de por si es duro madrugar tanto y estar todo el día fuera de casa, cuando tienes que andar casi dos kilómetros con unas botas que te hacen daño en los pies, solo quieres llegar a casa y dormir una semana entera.

"¿Cansada?" Roger se deja caer a tu lado. No tarda en pasar su brazo por tus hombros y acercarte a él.

"No te haces una idea" Muy a tu pesar te incorporas un poco para quitarte las malditas botas. Agradeces cuando tus pies se sienten libres y vuelves a tu posición junto a Roger.

Pero este está viendo tus pies todo rojos con durezas en el talón y en la zona de los dedos.

"Realmente te hacen daño" Frunce el ceño mientras se levanta. "Aguarda aquí" Casi corre a la cocina y vuelve casi al instante con cubo lleno de agua. "Es agua tibia, te calmará" Hace que poco a poco metas los pies. Más que tibia parece realmente helada cuando entra en contacto con tu piel. "Déjalo unos minutos, tampoco quiero que enfermes. Creo que tengo una crema por algún lado. Déjame buscarla"

Te dejas caer en el sofá y cierras los ojos. Si no llegas a pensar en lo mucho que aprecias a Roger, quizá te quedarías dormida. Es muy gentil y cariñoso cuando quiere a alguien. No sabes si te quiere, a penas os conocéis, pero es una persona que desde que has llegado a casa, se ha encargado de mantenerte segura y cómoda. Tratándote como una amiga de toda la vida. Y desde luego da hasta lo que no tiene para hacer feliz a todas las personas que ama. Y en este momento de tu vida, te hace muy feliz.

"¿Estás dormida?" Pregunta entrando silenciosamente. Gruñes en respuesta e inmediatamente sientes como el sofá se hunde cuando se sienta. "Encontré la crema, mi madre se la echaba en las piernas cuando tenía turnos muy largos de trabajo. La traje conmigo porque huele muy bien. Espero que te calme."

Los ojos te duelen y sienten como tienen ganas de echar lágrimas cuando los abres. Roger deja caer una toalla en el suelo y te indica que saques los pies. Con cuidado pone los pies en su regazo y con una toallita los seca con mucho cuidado. Ronroneas de gusto. Realmente tiene buenas manos. Luego cuando tienes los pies secos, sientes una sustancia pegajosa y muy fría en los pies.

Gimes mientras Roger extiende la crema y masajea tus pies.

"Realmente sois muy domésticos. Parecéis un matrimonio de cincuenta años" Freddie entra en el salón secándose el pelo con una toalla.

"¿Celoso de que nadie se preocupe por ti?" Roger escupe siguiendo con su trabajo.

"Celoso de que somos amigos por años y nunca me has dado un masaje"

"Bueno tampoco me has traido comida al trabajo" Freddie rueda los ojos y se deja caer en el sofá.

"Deja que esto se absorba, iré a ducharme. Luego te calentaré agua para que puedas hacerlo también. Te sentirás bien cuando vayas a dormir después de una ducha caliente" Roger se levanta. Cierras los ojos y vuelves a dejar caer la cabeza. Todo te da vueltas y sientes que te vas a desmayar del cansancio.

"Estoy seguro de que estaría encantado de frotar tu espalda en la ducha"

"No molestes Freddie" Te cuesta hasta pronunciar palabra. ¿Hay alguna parte de tu cuerpo que no esté cansada?"

"Creo que si pones esos ojos, conseguirías hasta que te corte las uñas de los pies. Literalmente lo digo, le tienes comiendo de la palma de tu mano."

Bostezas y sientes lágrimas cayendo por tus mejillas al hacerlo.

"Estás demasiado cansada para verlo, pero este hombre realmente se preocupa por que te sientas a salvo aquí." Freddie deja un beso en tu frente antes de entrar en vuestro cuarto compartido. "Está bien si compartes habitación con Roger esta noche."

No tienes fuerzas ni para contestar a su comentario.

Roger sale casi corriendo del baño. Se asegura de secarse bien y vestirse antes de salir y encontrarte desmayada en el sofá. Aún tienes la ropa puesta y una manta tapando tus piernas, con los pies al aire. Sonríe enternecido. Supone que la ducha tendrá que esperar. No quiere despertarte estando tan cansada. Retira la manta de tu cuerpo, e intenta quitarte el abrigo con cuidado.

Te coge en brazos y te lleva a la habitación con Freddie.

"¿Estaría bien si le quitamos los pantalones? Estará más cómoda" Sugiere dejándote caer en la cama.

"No te preocupes, yo me encargo. Se sentirá más cómoda con su amigo de confianza" Roger rueda los ojos mientras sale de la habitación. "Solo bromeo. Ya tendrás otra oportunidad de ver su ropa interior" Roger está a punto de entrar y darle un golpe. "¡Solo bromeo!"

Roger finalmente sale de la habitación y Freddie deja escapar una risa.

Antes de entrar en su habitación propia, recoge tus viejas botas. Normal que le duelan los pies, piensa. Tienen pinta de ser horriblemente incómodas. Las esconde en un cajón del salón detrás de una planta y finalmente se mete en la cama.

[johnricharddeacy]

Brian May’s hands.

That’s it. That’s the post.

[wheresmybuckyhoes]

Ben Hardy Smut Part 2

Summary: You basically fuck Ben what else do you want me to say

Pairing: Reader x Ben Hardy

Warnings: Sex, Condoms, Swearing, Oral (f receiving), slight edging, pet names, nudity

Note from moi: I’m not sure if there will be a part 3 yet so I’m just going to see if this gets a lot of likes/reblogs. Enjoy lovies!

‘Sounds good to me’ you said, as you unlocked the stall door, taking Ben’s hand softly and leading him outside the bathroom. You pushed open the door, letting go off his hand and attempting to fix your hair as you stepped into the main cafe area, putting on your sunglasses in hopes to hide your flushed cheeks. The pair of you had almost made it out unnoticed when Max (the bartender who had served you before) called out to you. Ben let out a small groan before briskly leaning down to whisper ‘I’ll be waiting’ in your ear, as your inner voice let out a scream.

‘Hey y/n, can u cm’ere for a sec?’ Max was basically your bestie at this point since you saw him everyday, and had hung out with him outside the cafe. So, you couldn’t just ignore him and go shag the hottest piece of ass you had ever spoken to just yet. You spun around to walk to the till where Max was standing, feeling Ben’s eyes glued to you as he waked over to the door and casually leaned against the door frame. ‘What’s up Max?’ you asked gingerly. ‘Was just wondering when you were planning on telling me. You were banging Ben fucking HARDY?!’ he asked excitedly. ‘Shhh keep your voice down. I’m not bannnging him Max, we are just gonna go hang at mine so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around telling everyone’ you replied in a hushed voice. Max gave a sarcastic nod before waving his hand about as if the idea that I wasn’t banging him was lunacy. ‘I’m not. Max I’m not. I’m not’ you repeated as each time his nods grew more sarcastic. ‘Bye girl tell me about it when you come in tomorrow’ he smirked, shooing you away. ‘Promise I’ll keep it quiet’. You mouthed a quick thank you and hurried back to the door where Ben was stood waiting, eyes looking hungrily at you. You made your way to your flat.

You had reached the door after a short walk and tiresome climb up the stairs, pulling out your keys and unlocking the door. You pushed it open and stood back, gesturing with your arm. ‘Ladies first’ you said cheekily, as Ben bowed and stepped in saying ‘thank you sir’. He stepped in, looking around at the beautifully decorated flat. He ran his hands over the polaroids and photos which hung on the walls of your fashion pieces and modelling sessions. ‘Wow’ you heard him breath to himself. ‘Did you take these’ he asked as he spun around to face you, only for his jaw to literally drop. His eyes widened in surprise, quickly turning into a look of desire and lust. You see, you were quite a bold person, and that mixed with how horny you were resulted in you stripping to your bra and panties while his back was turned.

‘Fuck. Me’ he said in disbelief as he ran his hands through his hair, biting his lip and trailing his eyes all over your body, already imagining the things he would do to you. ‘I would be happy to’ you purred, jumping into his arms and wrapping your legs tight around his waist. He kissed you deeply as you pointed to the bedroom. He carried you with ease, not breaking the kiss for one second. He gently placed you on the bed, climbing on top and kissing you neck, trailing down to your breasts and then your tummy. You tugged at his shirt to signal for him to remove it, which he did immediately. You took a mental picture of his perfect abs for later. ‘Let me just get the condo...’ you began as you tried to get up only for Ben to pin your hands down by head, looking deep into your eyes. ‘Let me do something for you first, princess’ he smirked as he let go of your hands and wriggled down to your thighs. Him saying princess literally made you want to cum right there, feeling yourself grow wet between the legs and squeezing them tight together for some friction. ‘Let me do that for you’ he whispered, parting your legs with his hands and positioning his face at your panties. He tucked a finger under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs and tossing them behind him. You giggled and were just about to say something snarky when you felt him lick a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. ‘Fuck Ben. Jesus Christ’ you moaned as he buried his head in your pussy licking and kissing your clit as you tangled you fingers in his soft hair. He got more passionate with it, as your moans grew louder and your head began to spin. ‘So...close’ you mumbled as you felt your finish near very quickly. But then almost as fast as your release approached, he pulled away and kissed your thighs, as you shuddered and yelped from the loss of contact.

‘BEN FUCK I WAS SO CLOSE’ you cried, trying to get your hand down there to finish the job. He grabbed your hand and crawled up to kiss you as you grumbled into his mouth. ‘Now where did you say those condoms were?’ he asked innocently, loving every minute of you being a desperate whiny mess. You pointed shakily at the bedside table as Ben crawled off you and grabbed a condom from the drawer. He gave it to you as he undid his belt and removed his trousers and boxers, revealing his already hard, very much big cock. You wanted to drawl at the sight, but wanted more to be filled, so you carefully opened the condom and rolled it onto his cock. He moaned at the slight touch you gave him which was literally the hottest sound you had ever heard.

He grabbed you by the waist and flipped you over onto your hands and knees, kissing your back making your arch. ‘Put it in Ben stop teasing’ you groaned impatiently, desperately wanting him inside you. ‘Sorry what was that love?’ he teased, rubbing his cock on your dripping entrance. ‘I SAID, PUT IT IN ALRE...’ but before you could finish he had pushed it roughly, making you collapse onto your elbows, as adjusted to his size. ‘You feel amazing, y/n’ he moaned, gently fucking you at first. ‘Mhm’ is all you managed to get out as he began to speed up. You were already sensitive from before, so when he reached over and rubbed your clit as he pounded into you, it was enough to send you over the edge. ‘M’gonna c...cum B..Ben’ you spluttered as you felt him lean close to you to hit your g spot. ‘S’ok love, cum for me baby’ he said hoarsely into your ear, learning in so his chest was against your back. ‘FUCK FUCK HOLY FUCKING FUCK’ you screamed as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your head spinning and pussy clenching. Just your moans was enough to soon send Ben tumbling over the edge, so you basically came together until he pulled out and collapsed beside you, pulling off and tying the condom, tossing it into the bin in your room. You rolled over so you were lying naked on his chest, his arm wrapped tightly around you as you both lay there, panting.

‘That was just...wow’ you said breathlessly

‘You’re amazing y/n you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever come so quickly’

‘I feel so honoured’

There was a pause

‘Do you want to go on a date with me’ Ben suddenly asked out if the silence.

‘I thought this was just a one time thing because I liked you not because of your fame’ you said sarcastically.

‘But there’s something about you y/n. You can’t tell me you don’t wanna do that again’

‘But I don’t date...’

‘Please, just try it. Just one date’

You pushed onto your elbows so you were looking into his beautiful eyes

‘Fine, just one date’

Tag list: @cjand10

[ragweed98]

This is my first, tentative post, it's borderline smut with Roger Taylor. I've only ever edited and brainstormed with the amazing writer @a-bisexual-phantom

So I guess tension as a warning?? Mild cliffhanger as I can't write the actual act for the life of me?? I tried to be accurate!!

You were so excited for the opportunity to intern with Queen, not only was it a huge learning experience but you had the feeling that you were watching history go down. Some aspects of your job included anything and everything anybody else needed, paperwork, snacks, occasionally breaking up fights between band members when the manager wasn't able to. 

You loved the little farm house that the band would be recording their album at. You really hoped the quiet countryside would provide maximum song-writing atmosphere for everyone. Once everyone got settled into their bedrooms, yours being the closest to the bathroom probably due to the fact that you were the only female, you decided to explore a little bit as this may be your only chance before being buried in paperwork.

After looking through the studio, you began exploring outside and you discovered a few worn paths that went who knows where. Naturally you picked one and immediately started walking down it. You weren't scared of getting lost or running into any murderers. Along the first trail, the plants were growing together overhead, creating a tunnel of green that the last of the sun shone through.

You made your way back and decided to grab a torch so you could continue your adventure into the night hours and then departed to the second trail of the trip. As you walked you dragged your feel, shuffling through the leaves, smiling to yourself at the noise you created. Your smile grew, splitting across your face as you came to the end of the trail, as you took in the sight before you. 

It was a gorgeous lake, "perfect", you thought to yourself "for relaxing". 

The fact that you had no swimwear was a trivial thought, and easily fixed since you were most likely to be the lake's only occupant. 

You walked back to the house around three a.m. water droplets clinging to your hair. The door didn't creak, but as you crept down the hall towards your door the floor squeaked with every step you took. Though you thought you were in the clear as you entered your room, you failed to notice a door open and a shaggy blond head poke out to see who was squeaking in so late.

With three and a half hours of sleep under your belt you started making a huge breakfast for everyone at about 6:30 a.m. As the smoke from the grease filled pans hissed up, the aromas of bacon, eggs, and much needed coffee coaxed everyone out of their rooms. Everyone filtered in, sitting down sleepily, looking like rock and roll zombies. You set plates out for everybody to dish themselves up, Roger grabbed the last two plates, setting them down to dish up next to you on the counter and put his other hand on the other side of you. 

"Someone had some late night adventures last night", Roger whispered in your ear, his raspy voice laced with sleep. 

You turned to face him intending to ask why he had been up at that hour too when you realised since the whole band was still in their pyjamas you came face to chest with the shirtless drummer. With the toned arms of Roger Taylor on either side of you, you put on your best professional, no nonsense face about half a foot away from his. You couldn't put much more distance between you and him due to the kitchen counter and he seemed to know that as he smirked, leaning forward slightly with his whole body. 

"Mr. Taylor, that's quite enough", you said in a soft stern voice. 

"Oh you two are adorable." Freddie said at the same time Deaky started complaining about Roger not being able to go five minutes without blatantly flirting with the band's intern. 

"Roger, please leave Miss L/N be, as she is here to help Miami help us with our career." Brian said without looking up from his songbook and coffee. 

Roger sighed at Queen's comments, then looking at you, drawled, "it doesn't seem as though Y/N wants me to move..." 

His eyes widen as you suddenly put your hands on his bare shoulders and use him to hop up on the counter in front of him, lift your legs over his arm, back onto the floor and walked off with your plate, saying since his ego was so big and heavy you moved so he wouldn't have to strain himself. Freddie barked out a laugh, congratulating you on rendering Roger speechless. 

"It's not often he doesn't know what to do with his mouth." You chuckled. 

"Especially when a beautiful girl is involved," Freddie said, causing the drummer to blush as he continued gawking like a goldfish. 

It had been a few weeks of stress filled song writing and you were attempting to enjoy a shower when you heard thumps coming from outside the bathroom. You ignored the commotion and finished your shower, toweling off only to realise you hadn't brought clean clothes to change into.

You wrapped your towel around your body securely and cracked the door to peek out and seeing that the coast was clear you calmly walked towards your open door. As soon as you went to close the door, hands grabbed your waist and pulled you behind the door, against the wall, your hands pushing at the possible kidnapper. 

You let out a yelp only to be silenced by a hand over your mouth as a body pushed up against you HARD. Roger opened the door back up until it was touching his back and put a finger to his lips, touching both of your noses as he did so. Freddie thundered down the hallway and tiptoed into your room brushing by the door as he entered. Roger pulled your leg up around him and leaned  all the way into you to give the door an inch to swing inward as Freddie walked back out of your room, having unsuccessfully found anyone. 

"We're playing hide and seek, Love" Roger breathed in your ear as he let his hand slide down from your mouth to lightly rest on your throat, smirking at your current attire. 

"Well, Mr. Taylor, you should have said so." You said as you decided to get him back for his 'unprofessionality' as Brian referred to it. "FREDDIE! ROGER'S IN--" Roger cut you off with his hand, cursing as Fred's footsteps pounded back into your room. 

"Oi, Roger! Put her down" Freddie yelled at the drummer who realized you were still flush around him in his hiding spot. He glared at you as he let you push him off you this time and slipped over to your dresser. Freddie shoved Roger out of the room for you to change, thanking you for your service in the game.

As the door clicked shut you let the façade of professional indifference fall as your face blushed red hot at the situation and proximity you had just come out of. Deciding that taking another shower would be doing too much, you changed into shorts and a tank top and took a dry towel to head to the lake. You poked your head out to see that it was Roger free, strode down the hallway and headed down the stairs, listening all the while for band members.  

You stopped by the kitchen for a coffee and ran into Freddy when you opened the lower cupboard to grab a lid to take your coffee with you. Managing not to react too wildly you grinned at him and asked if Roger was seeking now. Freddie nodded and Mr. Taylor came in from counting outside to find you putting the lid on your coffee thermos having closed Freddy's hiding spot back up.

"Well if it isn't my newly declared hide and seek enemy," Roger greeted you with fake hurt puppy eyes.

"All is fair in love and war Mr. Taylor" you said, sipping your coffee you grimimced then turned around to grab some sugar to add to the bitter bean water, knowing exactly what held the drummer's gaze now that you were facing away from him.

"Maybe," Roger said slowly, stalking towards you, "you and I could help each other….you know in the game" his pause implying the other game he was playing, with only you.

 He continued walking slowly toward you as you continued slowly walking backwards until your back hit the counter and he smirked. You set your coffee down and jumped up to sit on the counter, crossing your legs and picking your coffee back up.

Roger stopped at the counter you were seated on, placing his hands on the counter right up against your leg and under the crossed one. 

 "Perhaps you should make it up to me, losing me the game I mean" his thumbs coming up to rub your legs.

"What if I tell you where Freddy is currently hiding at this moment?" You asked, fighting a shiver from his rubbing.

"Mmm I had something else in mind but I suppose that will do for now." His hands came up to rest on your still crossed legs, making it abundantly clear to you what else he had had in mind.

"Mr. Taylor it is a bit unprofessional to put your hands on a working intern as you have today-"

"Are you saying this?" He gestured with his head, "professionally does nothing for you?" He grinned cockily.

"What I'm saying is that A. I'm not a groupie, I'm here to work in a field I enjoy, B. I'm not one of your countless harlots, C. You're just horny because you've been here a few weeks and I'm the only female in a hundred miles and D." You leaned in close to his ear as Freddy silently closed his cupboard door and tiptoed to a different hiding spot, "you are a terrible seeker" you leaned back to sip your coffee.

"Well I convinced you to tell me where Freddy is, so I can't be that bad, speaking of which Love, you have yet to actually tell me where he's hiding, unless you want me to...continue convincing..."

"The cupboard, behind you."

Roger opened the cupboards behind him to find nothing. 

 Turning back to you, his face like that of a predator, stalking his prey; his eyes looking straight through your bones to your core. Uncrossing your legs to get down, Roger walked back up to you in one long stride, leaning right up against the counter, pushing your legs apart with his hips as he did so, causing you to fall back, catching yourself on one hand. Caught off guard you set your coffee down perhaps harder than you meant to and put your other hand on his warm chest to prevent him from getting closer than he already was.

"You lied"

"I said I could tell you where he was at that exact moment, he moved since then, while you were...preoccupied."

Placing his hands on your hips his eyes bore into you, "well then I suppose you still owe me for costing me my title at world champion hider. Do you have a preference as to when I should collect?"

Roger smirked as though you were trapped when really you knew all you had to do was say 'no' and he would back down immediately….though you never would.

"Mr. Taylor, I wonder if you could perhaps be more specific as to what sort of debt I am owing you, then I could be more helpful-"

Roger Taylor's soft lips cut you off, sampling the coffee in your mouth and you sighed into the kiss.  

"Sorry Love, couldn't play our game much longer with you looking so fucking delicious," Roger pulled away to gauge the situation, wanting to make certain he wasn't crowding you.

"Oh-ho no, you don't get to do that and just walk away mister! Get back in here!" You ordered him, snapping him back to you with your legs.

"Yes Ma'am," Roger saluted, clearly bemused by your little show of dominance. He slid his hands under you and turned to leave the kitchen.

"And just where are we headed now?" You inquired, tying your legs around him, doing your best to hide your smile at his cockiness.

"Ahh well, I just thought- I mean I..maybe," confidence gone he stuttered "we were-umm going for a swim?" His eyes fell on your towel.

"Good answer, now let's go 'swim' before the rest of Queen realizes you're not actively seeking them."

His smile returned a bit shy as he stopped and fell into your eyes before the words "so fucking gorgeous" whispered from under his breath causing your cheeks to heat up.