#like imagine you've spent like twenty years helping this woman learn that even if you aren't human you are still a person

[saveugoodmadam]

I really hope that creature starts arguing on hyde's side if I'm honest because this isn't the first time frankie saw a scientific creation as not being a person and if I was creature rn I'd be more than a bit pissed it was happening again

[dreadsuitsamus]

Lost Part Five | Vegeta x Reader |

part one | part two | part three | part four | part six

author's note: i keep ending up in a bit of a slump after i release a chapter of this where i hardly get anything done for a month or so and then inspiration strikes and i write almost the entire thing within a couple of days 🫠 i am very tired. the story should be wrapping up soon, i'm estimating maybe two more chapters total!

pairing: vegeta x fem!reader

warnings: canon typical violence, does not follow the canon timeline of events

Chi-Chi watches you carefully as you help her prepare dinner. You and Goku came home just a few hours ago, yet you've hardly said a word at all. A year spent with Vegeta, your husband that's spent the last year of his life with another woman and their child, and you've got nothing to say? Nothing happened?? Not even a single thing worth mentioning???

Bull. Shit.

"So." She hums to herself, sliding over more vegetables for you to chop. "You're awfully quiet tonight."

"Just ask the question instead of beating around the bush." You mutter, quickly dicing the veggies in the way Gohan likes best.

Chi-Chi huffs to herself, considering her words more carefully than her initial approach to the conversation. You are not in a good mood and no doubt being hangry on top of it isn't going to help anything. But she's gotta know!

Chi-Chi takes a careful breath, losing her false sense of aloofness. "You seem upset. Did something happen during your training?"

"My husband is a bastard." You mutter bitterly. "Gives me the training of a lifetime and then caps it off with a plan to kill our son."

"Wow." She murmurs softly, and her heart cries to go hug her son tightly and never let go. "I can't say it surprises me that he'd think to do it. He came to this planet and killed his own partner he arrived with."

"Nappa? God how I would've loved to see that." Despite the gravity of your situation, learning that Nappa's death was at the hand of Vegeta fills you with such a sick, satisfactory feeling. "He was always a pain to deal with."

"He killed several of our friends." Chi-Chi mutters, and you do have at least a little grace to feel shame. It's disgusting how in the short time you've been here, these humans have made you think twice about your kind's culture… You always knew it to be despicable yet you've never been this close to feeling ashamed of it.

You sigh to yourself. "It was nice to be so connected to Vegeta again. I've missed him more than you could ever know. I love my husband, but the man I mated wouldn't dream of killing his own son."

"Twenty years apart is unimaginable." Chi-Chi says gently. "And maybe… After growing up with him and then being married young to him, you two never got much of a chance to grow separately. And just maybe that gap allowed you both to be who you truly are… Which might not be compatible, despite your history and what you want to feel."

The tears that well up in your eyes surprise you; you've never been a crier. But she's not wrong— you're not the spoiled, battle-hungry princess you once were, and raising a child alone changed you in ways you never imagined.

Ways that Bulma will change in too, should Vegeta leave her and Trunks to come back to your side.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." You murmur, and bless Chi-Chi as she turns away and allows you to wipe at your teary eyes. You stare at your hands, feeling the new power you trained for in the chamber run through right alongside your racing blood.

The young Saiyan woman from your past would certainly be in awe of your power, and wouldn't have a care in the world for your family's plight. She only sought to be the strongest warrior possible— and you shake your head at the idea that a younger you would agree with Vegeta's solution to the problem.

It's offensive, the idea of murdering your only son. But Chi-Chi is certainly right— it's no shock Vegeta thought of it. He's clearly not grown all that much, spending much of his life still under Frieza's thumb, doing his pillaging and continuing to live similarly to how he had even on Planet Vegeta. He trained, he fought and killed, and mourned his wife and son with every expedition.

He's a stubborn Saiyan male, one full of pride and an ego forever unmatched. And goodness do you love every bit of him. But letting go of your pride to raise your son in the precarious environment you were left to scramble for, an environment you were in because Vegeta didn't listen, has you still so angry at him. Could you really forgive him? Do you even want to?

I love you so much, Vegeta, but I hate you too. Why didn't you listen to your wife?!

"Alright…" Chi-Chi's voice is practically straining as she attempts to hold herself back, and you can't help the ugly snort that leaves you when that thin barrier breaks. "Just… Did you… Y'know…" She grins conspiratorially, reminding you of your favorite attending from back in the day.

Rolling your eyes, you slide the chopped veggies to her and head for the kitchen's exit to hide your celebratory smirk. "Yes, we did. And it was amazing."

Gohan's not sure what his mother's laughing so loudly about, but he smiles to himself as he resumes his studies. He's glad she's made a friend.

Bulma tosses her wrench aside, burying her pretty face into her hands as the frustration takes its toll on her. She's readying the ship you and Vegeta will take to go find your son, but the nagging worry that Vegeta won't come back lays a thick pressure down on her bones. Sleep is already hard to come by with a baby, especially one that's getting increasingly mobile with each passing day, but she's gotten less and less ever since you came into the picture to ruin her life.

Maybe she's being a little dramatic. This all happened by chance— it was pure coincidence you ended up on Earth, and as an amnesiac you were friendly to her. But what was yours is now hers, and there's no doubt in Bulma's mind that you want to retake it. It's what she would do, after all, if the roles were reversed. You're not wrong for how you feel, she supposes.

But there is entirely too much on the line for her to be relaxed.

She looks up at the sound of boots approaching, and the relief in her body is so harsh and sudden that she feels light. Vegeta's back from wherever he went, and he's got Trunks in his arms. "I didn't know he woke up."

"He's been up only a few minutes." Vegeta hands off the boy to Bulma, Trunks grinning happily at the sight of his mother.

"When did you get back?"

"Not long ago."

Bulma bites her tongue. "So…"

"So?" Vegeta crosses his arms, taking in the frazzled sight of his child's mother. She hasn't been sleeping well, probably hasn't eaten much either— how can she take care of Trunks like this?

Bulma glares at Vegeta, forcing down the bulk of her rage to keep Trunks in a happy mood. It's difficult, though, to deal with the stubbornness and aloofness of her whatever he is to her. Boyfriend? Baby daddy? Disappearing isn't entirely new for Vegeta, though it's been some time since he's done it. But with you in the picture, anything is possible and he's slowly seeming to retreat back into the shell he started out in.

"Where have you been?" Her tone isn't accusatory, and Vegeta's stance relaxes slightly.

"Training in the chamber." He's honest, but his short reply concerns Bulma anyway.

"With—"

"Yes."

Bulma sighs, ignoring the way Trunks tugs at her shirt. "So when are you leaving?"

"I'm not sure." Vegeta murmurs, looking off to the side at nothing in particular. He can't find V without you, and he's currently your number one enemy again. Giving you space is a minimum requirement before he can attempt to talk plans for leaving, discovering V and then—

Well, you'll have to come to an agreement on that front as well.

"Will you come back?"

His brows come together then, but he can't fairly be mad at the question. He's left before, made no indication or vow to Bulma to be present from now on, and while it hasn't crossed his mind, it would be quite the opportunity to reunite with his first family in space and fuck off to who knows where. But for many reasons outside of just Bulma and Trunks, he would never leave Earth.

It's his home, plain and simple, and he must defend it as such.

"Of course I will."

Doubt fills her tummy as Vegeta walks out of her lab, leaving her alone with the baby.

Chi-Chi's dragged her boys out of the house for clothes and grocery shopping around noon the following day, and you're left alone to your own devices for a few brief hours. Daring to check the contents of the slow cooker Chi-Chi set up this morning, you hear the front door opening up just as you start to open the lid.

Dammit!

"Whatever you think I'm doing, Chi-Chi, I'm—" The hairs at the back of your neck prickle, and defense mode rises as you don't recognize the energy to belong to any one of the Son family.

But luckily for Bulma, she's got a fairly recognizable hair color.

You narrow your eyes as she finishes inviting herself in, watching as she closes the door behind her and looks you right in the eye, adjusting the baby on her hip. "Bulma. What do you want?"

"Vegeta."

Oh, for Kami's sake!

"You have him, don't you?" Your jealousy confusingly runs parallel with your anger at your mate— he's a bastard, but yours.

"I hoped he was." Bulma murmurs, and you don't miss the sadness in her eyes. Truly, she does love your husband. "He's been… A challenge."

"That's the biggest understatement I've ever heard." You cross your arms and look away from her.

"But I love him. He's not romantic or particularly soft or anything, but I love him anyway. And he's my son's father, and I just… I want Trunks to grow up knowing his father."

"My son didn't."

"So you should know exactly the pain Trunks would go through. The pain I would go through when he asks me about a man he doesn't remember meeting. I…" Bulma sighs and rubs her tired face, and boy you don't envy her position as a new mother in this sticky situation. At least when V was out of the incubator, you had a solid marriage to back you when dealing with the baby got to be too much at once.

But she steels herself quickly, the fiery look in her eye you remember from that night in the forest coming back to the present. "I met a version of my son where he grew up without Vegeta."

"I'm sorry— Huh?!" She met a version of Trunks??

"He came here from the future, and he's the one that actually killed Frieza."

"A halfling killed Frieza…" You say slowly, gazing at the child in her arms. This child will one day have that sort of power?!

"He's a child of Vegeta, of course he did!" Bulma scoffs, and damn she'd be quite the catch on Planet Vegeta. And bitterly, she reminds you of yourself. Vegeta certainly has a type.

"This place gets stranger the longer I stay here." Your tail tightens around your waist, frustration and confusion swamping your brain. "What in the hell did he get himself into?" You ask yourself the question more than Bulma, and once again you're met with a reminder of Chi-Chi's words.

Twenty years apart is unimaginable…

Bulma sighs. "Trunks traveled from the future because of a threat that completely ruined the world, and everyone except me and Trunks died. He came back to warn us, and then left again. We haven't seen him since."

"And I don't suppose he mentioned me in any capacity."

"No, he didn't."

"So either I never showed up, or I left Earth."

Or V killed me.

"I don't really know." Bulma adjusts the squirming baby in her arms. "But I'm not willing to take Trunks' sacrifice and doom this Trunks to the same fate. The Androids are set to arrive in a few years, and we need Vegeta to even have a chance."

"So what exactly are you asking me to do? Fuck off and give you your happy ending, and leave me and my son in the dust?"

"I'm asking you, mother to mother, to give my son the gift your son couldn't have. A family, and a chance at a happy life."

"And why should I care about the quality of your son's life?" Your fists clench at your sides; you're not a monster to an innocent baby's plight, not at all. If anything, the last twenty years have softened you and as a mother, you more than understand Bulma's situation and what she's asking. But to assume a savage of you without knowing you—

You did threaten her life, you suppose. Perhaps her anger is a tad deserved.

"If you won't do it for Trunks, then do it for Gohan." Bulma spits out, heading for the door. "Because if you don't, he'll grow up without his dad and spend his life protecting Trunks until the day they finally kill him too."

She slams the door shut behind her, and the cold realization trickles through your veins. Should you be selfish and take what you want, those you've come to cherish will die, and that innocent boy that didn't choose his parents will suffer directly. You're more than aware what it's like to lose everything, and at the very least you could attribute some of it to karma for your Saiyan heritage and the things you've done out of pride for it.

Could you really damn a baby like that?

"Why didn't you tell me about the Androids?"

Goku freezes, not even entirely in the house when you question him. His arms are loaded with shopping bags that he subsequently drops when Gohan runs into him with the rest of the bags, the two of them tumbling into quite the mess. Chi-Chi's luckily getting a manicure, though Goku doesn't know which is the lesser of two evils— angry Chi-Chi, or angry you.

"Uh, wh-whaddya mean?" Goku pointedly averts your gaze in favor of picking up the dropped bags of clothes and groceries.

"Don't play dumb, Goku." You growl. "Androids. Why didn't you tell me?"

Goku sighs and stands. "We didn't know if you should know, since…"

"You're not staying." Gohan mumbles.

"That, and those guys are four years away. Your situation is more urgent." Goku hands off the groceries to Gohan to put away, leaving you alone in the living room. "We've been training for it pretty hard though."

"You should've told me."

"Would you be willing to help us with them?"

"Of course I would!" You snap. "Like I'd ever miss a fight, especially one of this gravity."

"Really?!" Goku scoops you into a crushing hug, and your tail steps in for your trapped arms to bat the back of his head.

"I will be here for these Androids, whatever the hell they are. You can count on that."

"Does that mean you'll stay?" Goku carefully puts you down, his hands on your shoulders.

"Certainly not." You look away from those honest eyes. "But I will return to help you fight."

"Why won't you stay?"

"I have a life elsewhere, with my son. Earth is not as bad as it first seems, but I don't see a long-term future here."

"But… What about us, your family?"

"I…" You falter for just a moment, remembering the way you lived with the Son family during your amnesia and how right it felt at the time.

As an amnesiac, it was of course easy to feel such a way— you craved a sense of belonging and a home, and naturally gravitated towards what you had found, and wanted to keep it even in the event your memories were restored. Building something new was a possibility lost at the exact moment Vegeta entered your life again, but only as a result of your unyielding rage.

Could it really be possible to stay on such a planet? There's more here for you than where you spent the past two decades, surely… But it's the presence of your husband's bastard family that sends a shot of resistance straight to your heart. That woman and her child serve as the cherry on top to all that's happened to you; why in the hell would you ever subject yourself to such torture?

"I can't stay, Goku. My son needs me."

He's all I have left, and I'm all he has ever known.

Goku doesn't argue, but the sadness that rolls off of him slinks onto you as you walk out of the house.

"Mother?" V asks softly as you head for your training grounds. He was oddly quiet on the ride over to this planet from your home, and evidently something's been plaguing his young mind.

"Yes?"

"What was Father like?"

You knew this day would come, but no amount of pondering the answers or possible questions could prepare you for how broken your son's voice is— how long has he asked himself these questions? He's six years old now, surely it's been on his mind for at least a little while. And though you've never made it a point not to bring up your husband or your home planet to your son, the memory of what you had and the grief over what could have been breaks your heart daily, even with your pent-up rage at your late husband's refusal to listen to your concerns.

"Your father was… Amazing." Damn the tears in your eyes and just how wistful you sound. You need to be strong for the boy! "A master tactician, stubborn as all hell, witty, prideful man. He was everything. Strong and handsome and fierce."

"What happened to him?"

"He died when our home planet was destroyed."

"He was that strong and still died?!" V's dark eyes widen in fright, and you cup his face gently.

"Your father's downfall was also his greatest strength— his pride. Had he listened to me, he'd be alive today. So always listen to your mother, my son. I only want what's best for my family."

"My family means everything to me." You mutter to yourself, gazing up at the sky and finding the sole twinkle of the brightest star as dusk settles in and finding it to be a lot like the sparkle in Gohan's eyes when he finds an interesting bug.

A bead of sweat trickles down into Vegeta's eye, stinging as he pushes through the pain of the gravity room. Train for his son, train for his other son, train for himself and his goals… Never has he ever felt so tired, where he yearns more for sleep than a battle.

Well, he may not be willing to go quite that far. But there was a time where he was beyond dead tired and all he longed for was one single thing.

Vegeta slams shut the door to his dorm on the Frieza station, huffing at his near loss of balance from expelling the last bit of his energy on the child's tantrum tactic. The food on this ship isn't good enough for how tightly he's under Frieza's thumb now— it's surely intentional and to keep Vegeta from rising above and killing the dictator that stole everything from him. Frieza is cruel, and sees Vegeta as a mere tool or even a toy.

Vegeta can only hope his life remains fun for Frieza to play with until he gets his chance to strike and take revenge for his glorious race's extinction.

Taking revenge for the murder of his dear wife and son is the only thing to keep him going these days. And those idiots Raditz and Nappa don't understand a thing about it— they're living it up on this ship, doing Frieza's bidding just as loyal dogs and not having a care in the world for what was lost. Perhaps that's why they get fed properly; Frieza knows they'd never give up this lifestyle.

And bitterly, Vegeta knows he'd be just like them if he never got married. His pride is insurmountable, but his love for his family outweighs even that. He'd never bow down to the one that cost him everything, even if he was given an 'ideal' life of battling and feasting.

Someday, he will rise above in his Super Saiyan form and avenge you. But for now he must bide his time until he can master and make true use of it.

Falling to his knees at the foot of the bed, so exhausted his tail lays limp rather than around his waist, Vegeta pulls his lady's favor from his armor. Your scent faded so, so long ago, yet he can swear he remembers it anyway. Your preferred body scrub was infused with mint, and it mixed well with your natural scent and Vegeta could never get enough of it. Fruitlessly, he buries his nose into the silk cloth.

Tears fill his eyes as he wills the favor to smell like you again. It's getting harder and harder to pretend he's with you, laying in bed and nosing along the curve of your neck while you rest in bed. He'd rub your swollen belly as you near the end of your pregnancy, the strong little Saiyan inside of you nearly ready to be born and incubated and you were in quite the discomfort during that time.

All you wanted was your husband's presence, and he should've appreciated it more. Hindsight is 20/20, but he remembers feeling aggravated at times, being trapped in bed and feeling restless and anxious for the incoming parenthood. To go back and live in the moment, to see you, hold you, kiss you… He'd do anything.

"Please." He begs softly to a God that may not even exist, let alone be listening to his plea. Tears wet his face and he collapses to the floor. "Please give them back."

Vegeta closes his eyes as his vision clouds, and with a huff he forces himself up and out of the gravity room. He got his wish, and damn if he'll just let you go like this. You are alive, and the year in the chamber wasn't nearly enough. Saiyan mates are connected until the end of time, and he will not waste another damn minute without you.

You're at Vegeta's little hidden cabin when the hairs at the back of your neck raise. Vegeta's here, but why? You meet him at the door, and the determined look in his eye sends a shiver down your spine.

"Vegeta."

"You are a difficult woman to find." He seethes. "For anyone else, anyway."

"For what purpose are you looking for me?" Your eyes narrow suspiciously— the aura around him is different. He's hellbent on something.

"Because you're my goddamn wife!"

You stumble backwards as Vegeta wraps you up in his arms, his hold crushing you against that solid, strong body. Trembling as he holds you, he brushes the tip of his nose along the curve of your neck. "I can't lose you again." He murmurs before kissing you deeply, and it's just like in the chamber— temporarily, you feel whole again.

I don't want to be lost again.

"For everything, I'm sorry. I should've been better, I should've listened, I—"

"I love you." You whisper against him, eyes shut tightly as you bask in his embrace. "Forgive me-"

"There's nothing to forgive you for." Vegeta mutters, smoothing a hand down the curve of your back. "You've done nothing-"

"For what I'm about to do."

Vegeta frowns, and you mash your lips to his for a quick distraction against the power generating in your palms and his cry of pain and confusion breaks your heart as you slam one palm against his lower back, in the exact spot his tail once was. Even with the appendage lost, it's still a deeply-rooted sensitive area and he's weakened immediately by your thrust of power to it.

Your husband falls to his knees, angry but unable to move. "W… What the hell was that?!" He coughs, wheezing as if you punched all the air from his lungs.

"I have to do what's best for my family. And my family needs you safe here, love."

"I need you." Vegeta pleads, reaching out to you with a shaky hand. "Don't… Don't!"

"I'll see you again for the Androids."

If I survive that long.

Before Vegeta can ponder how you even know about them, your powered up fist meets the side of his skull and he's out cold, sprawled out on the floor of his secret cabin. Without wasting too much time, you fish his beloved lady's favor from your breasts and leave a wistful kiss on it before tucking it into your mate's open palm.

Leaving him behind, you quickly fly to Capsule Corps as you recall the direction Vegeta came from. Bulma's up with the baby, and your eyes lock onto hers as she opens up the door to her home.

"You have maybe ten minutes to get me into orbit before Vegeta wakes up."

Baby Trunks is swiftly thrust into your arms as she leads the way to the ship, and you and the child lock eyes for just a moment.

For all these things I've done, I had better see heaven one day.

[novembersrain]

Her. - Roger Taylor Fanfic - (II)

Pairings: Roger Taylor x OC.

Summary: It’s been three months since Roger met Natalie Manning from New York City. Queen was in the midst of their Sheer Heart Attack tour, and girls were throwing themselves at him every chance they got. It wasn’t that he was opposed to it, but there was still one certain brunette who he couldn’t keep his mind off of.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions, and implications of sex, small age gap.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: Yay! Chapter two is here! I’ve gotten such a positive response on the first that I genuinely can’t even begin to tell you guys how happy I am that you’re enjoying it. I’ve gotten some requests to be upon a tag list so if you have any interest of being apart of that at all... Send me a direct message and I’ll be sure to add you to the list! I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

Chapter One Chapter Three

...

“I’m just saying, love. You grew up in California, isn’t that right? What’s the harm in taking a little trip down here to see us? It’s at the Santa Monica Civic. You love the beach. It’d be a two in one package deal.” Roger said, speaking softly into the payphone. He had been trying desperately to get his dear Natalie to come out and see him perform live ever since he left her three months prior, back in the Big Apple.

“You know that I would if I could, Roger, but I am just too busy right now.”

“Too busy for your favorite rock star? That’s not quite fair now, is it?”

Natalie laughed at this, but she didn’t reply, she didn’t need to. They’ve had this same interaction every time they spoke over the phone. Roger knew what she was going to say.

I have an audition coming up that I need to practice for, Roger.

Finals, Rog. Not this time.

You know I would be there if I could, but I have prior commitments I need to attend to.

I don’t have the money to do it this month. I need to save up for my trip back to California in December.

He had tried to persuade her in every single way that he knew how. Told her that he would help her learn her lines, would help her study for her finals, and even offered to pay for her flight out to whatever state he was in that week. Her response to that was, “I’ll let you do that when pigs fly.”

Roger then went to Freddie and asked him to design something similar with his graphic design skills so he could send it to Natalie. She still declined.

The silence that filled his ears was enough for him to realize that she was over this topic. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Listen–”

“Roger, I know. I know that you’re frustrated with my same answers over and over again, but now just isn’t a good time. I’m almost done here; I only have two weeks left. Then I’ll fly out to wherever you are and I am all yours. Alright?” Her voice was soft, soothing. It was reassuring for Roger to hear, but he wasn’t going to let himself get his hopes up. He had done that one too many times already.

“Alright.”

The mood of their routine phone call had changed. He was frustrated. He wasn’t use to people turning him down. Especially when he was sure the more resistance from her that he got, the more that he wanted to be with her. It was making his life more difficult.

Brian, Freddie, and John’s too. If they weren’t on stage, he was trying to talk to her on the phone. If he wasn’t on the phone with her, he was moaning and groaning to them about how much he missed her and how he wanted to throw himself out of the window of the tour bus.

“It isn’t like you guys are actually in a relationship, darling. You spent a full week with her in New York and promised to call her every single day. Just because you kept your word, doesn’t mean you’re going to get married when she finally comes out to see you.”

“Yes, Fred, I am quite aware of the fact that we are not actually in a relationship, thank you. I really needed you to remind me of that.”

“I’m just saying! You act as if your entire life is going to end if you don’t see her soon, but I feel that she’s making it quite obvious that coming out to see you just isn’t what she wants. Now, I’m not saying that she’ll never come out to see you, but for the love of God, stop pressuring her about it.”

That conversation he had with Freddie rung clear in his mind. She’s making it quite obvious that coming out to see you just isn’t what she wants.

“You don’t have to come, ever. If you don’t want to. I get it.”

“It’s not that, Roger. I promise you that it isn’t. It’s just– I’m 21. I still have a year left that I need to get through. You’ve already graduated from college. You're 26. You've already been through all of this. I would be there if I could, I know you know that. However, getting on a plane and flying out to a whole other state, just for a one-night show, it isn’t where my priorities are at right now. It really isn’t anything personal.”

There wasn’t much Roger could say at that. He could have yelled at her, told her that he doesn’t have to wait around for her, wishing for something that will never come, because she’s just holding him back anyways. Then he remembers that they aren’t in a relationship, and he’s holding onto unrealistic expectations from someone who just isn’t there yet. It isn’t her fault.

By this point, he can hear the guys yelling at him to get off the phone because it has been an hour since the show ended and there are people waiting to talk to him. Not to mention he’s used all of John’s quarters to have this long of a phone call.

“Right. Well. ‘Ve gotta go, love. I have some business to take care of. Let me know when you can talk next. I don’t want to interrupt your far more important priorities.”

“Roger, wait–“

He didn’t wait. He hung up, in fact. Petty? Yes. Did he care at this particular given moment? No.

I told all of my groupies to piss off because of her, was the immediate thought that came into his head. A fact that he planned to change immediately.

-

Meanwhile, in snowy New York City, Natalie was in a deep frown when she heard the other end of the line go dead. She had known Roger long enough to realize that he had quite the reputation for an explosive temper. The week that they spent together when he was still in New York was proof enough.

He threw a piece of bread at someone because his hair blowing in the wind was getting in their eyes. She would have deemed that action inappropriate had he not giggled at himself after the fact.

In fact, she would have been terribly angry with him now had she not been holding onto that one week they spent together, amongst all of their hour-long phone calls after that.

That week that they were together was something truly, well, blissful.

Upon meeting him outside of Juilliard, she didn’t give Roger much else of a passing thought. He was certainly easy on the eyes, but so were millions of other people in the world. It wasn’t something out of the ordinary. She had learned quite quickly that she would be eating her words. Roger asked if she would take her down to the cafeteria so he could fetch something to eat, and she was happy to do so. It was there that she would then deem Roger Taylor to be one of the most interesting men she had ever met in her life. He was funny, intelligent, had a wonderful taste in music, (he gushed to her for about twenty minutes over how good her cover of Imagine by John Lennon was), and he could hold a decent beat. And a decent tune. She was already cursing herself for not using the hour that they had just spent together previously getting to know him better. So, that’s what she did the week they spent together. She got to know all of him. All of him.

“You are an absolute idiot.” She mumbled to herself, setting the phone down on the hook and laying back into her mattress. Her life was much less eventful than his was, but… She had dreams of being on Broadway. Other than the classical training she had for singing throughout middle school and high school, she had nothing to back herself up with. Going to this college, getting the absolute most out of everything that she could was what was going to send her into the profession that she wanted to be in. She knew that. Everyone knew that. No ridiculously handsome and talented drummer in an incredible band was going to persuade that. Even if she truly hoped that she would let herself give in one day.

-

“Into fitness, are you? Well, I’m sure that we could find an activity or two that is absolutely certain to get your heart racing.”

The woman that Roger was talking to didn't oppose his idea, so he was quick to want to head out of the bar with her. This was typical Roger behavior. To head to a bar after a show and pick up a girl, a girl who would actually want to spend some time with him.

The drive that he had taken to his hotel was quiet, other than the light music playing from the radio. The drive was longer than he thought it was going to be. It was easy for him to do things like this. He had done it several times before, but in the moment, all he could think about was how this girl wasn’t Natalie.

It isn’t where my priorities are right now.

Right. That’s why he was taking someone else to his temporary home. Because she doesn’t want to be there with him. It’s not like he’s upset over it. That’d just be plain crazy. He wasn’t in a relationship. He could do whatever the hell he wanted without giving a damn what anyone else thought.

If that was true, then why does he feel so down in the dumps? Why can’t he stop thinking about Natalie? Why is he wishing that this were her that he was kissing right now? Why doesn’t this woman smell like sunflowers? Why don’t her dark roots match the rest of her hair? Maybe he should tell her. She might want to get them fixed. That would be a nice thing to do. Why is she looking at him like that? Aren't they having a good time?

“Natalie!”

Oh.

Oh. That’s why she’s looking at him like that. Maybe he should help her gather her things. No. She seems to be doing just fine without him.

“I’ll call you?” He yelled out after her but was only met with the loud slam of the hotel door.  

Maybe he deserved that.

-

“I’m sorry, you did what?!” Brian asked, nearly in hysterics once being updated on the events that went on with Roger the night before. Freddie was rolling around on the floor laughing, and he swears that he’s never seen John laugh so hard over something before.

Great moral support.

“I was having an orgasm and I called out Natalie’s name, okay? You want me to say it again so the whole audience can hear you? I WAS HAVING AN ORGASM AND I CALLED OUT NATALIE MANNING’S NAME.”

“I’m sorry. You did what?” A softer voice asked, one that was enough to make the guys stop laughing and scramble off.

Roger turned around and was faced with the woman he had never wanted to see less at that moment.

“Hey, Nat. How was your flight?”

...

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