Bohemian Rhapsody - Blog Posts
Separate Queen and Bohemian Rhapsody (movie) Fandoms
You know, I think the Queen fandom and the Bohemian Rhapsody fandom should be separated. Personally, I’m tired of having to sift through all the BR garbage whenever I search for anything Queen related. Besides, BR has become its own separate fandom at this point.
Reblog if you have any thoughts on this
Rocketman (2019)
Jim and Freddie Kissing in Bohemian Rhapsody
That feeling of driving down an empty highway, screaming the lyrics Bohemian Rhapsody at 11:48 pm is something I want to be able to experience, always.
I agree, god damn it!
I just met Ben Hardy, I am not okay omg that man is so lovely
Honestly I want a relationship that Joe and Ben have
Rest easy Freddie, you are dearly missed by many! Forever the King of Queen!
The Couple Next Door V (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)
Read Part IV Here
A/N: I am so sorry I couldn’t get this out on Valentine’s Day like I promised. I wanted to have a wonderful day with my boyfriend, and we ended up falling asleep and I found no time to post. I really am sorry.
But anyways, I’m not sure how well this chapter is gonna go because the last one was kinda slept on :/ BUT, to be fair, the previous one had no reader, and it was literally just dialogue, so I get it. I just really hope this one does better.
Summary: Roger goes home with a proposal to change his deal with Y/n.
(Real or Borhap! Roger. Whatever seasons your chicken.)
WARNINGS: Swearing, sLoW bUrN, EXTREME Mentions of sex, but again, No SmUt, mature romantic subject matter, I think that’s it. This one was a lil sad too.
Hun, this is about to be steamy, so this IS rated M. Read at your own risk, peeps, and if you’re under 18, maybe skip the ending of this one.
Roger pulled into his driveway, and after he took his key out of the ignition, rather than going inside immediately, he sat in the driver’s seat listening to the loud taps of raindrops hitting his windshield.
He rubbed his face stressfully, glancing over to the rather expensive bouquet of flowers along with the stupid, cliché heart shaped box which only contained the most expensive chocolate Roger could find in any London supermarket.
"If this is too much, she’ll kill me,“ he mumbled to himself before reaching for the purchases and pushing the door open.
And out into the rain he went.
He unlocked the front door after being completely annihilated with the heavy, stinging rain falling fast and largely from the stormclouds above.
He was able to make it into the house before the lightning began to strike, and as he toed off his shoes in the front hallway, his hair dripping with water, the low rumble of thunder vibrating the floorboards below his socks.
No matter, he was safe, and at home, and… something smelled really good.
Roger removed his soaked jacket and hung it up on a hook in the hallway behind the front door before moving deeper into the dark house. The only light that could be seen on was in the kitchen, at the end of the hall.
He turned into the room and stopped in the threshold, taking in your lovely appearance as you wordlessly chopped up carrots, turned away and unaware of the visitor behind you.
Roger quietly set the flowers and chocolates on the counter before moving behind you, and after you put the knife down, he rested his freezing, wet hands on the back of your neck.
Almost immediately, your shoulders rose to your ears, and you let out a loud squeal, turning on your heel and shoving Roger backward, to which he laughed hysterically as he backed into the counters on the other side of the room.
"You scared me!” You groaned before turning back to dinner stubbornly.
"Ah, Love, I’m sorry. The look on your face was priceless.“ He softly combed his fingers through your hair, pushing it to the side to leave a soft, warm, innocent kiss on the back of your neck, where he’d just placed his hands.
At the contact, you shut your heavy eyes and hummed gently in appreciation.
"Make that noise again, and we may end up having a late dinner,” Roger mumbled hotly, and deeply. Your face burned when you felt the drummer’s lips curl into a devilish smile against your skin.
"Y’know, I bought you something today,“ he continued on, and you swallowed nervously.
"Yeah?” You squeaked, to which Roger hummed in return, his hands planting on your hips over your clothes to not disturb the warmth of your body with his freezing fingers. He gave your hips a little squeeze, and let another hum reverberate in the back of his throat.
Your cheeks glowed pink, and you wordlessly brought your thighs closer to one another.
Make that noise again, and we may end up having a late dinner, you thought to yourself.
"Oh yes. Because you’re such a good girlfriend to me.“ And like that, his touch was gone.
You opened your eyes, and looked over your shoulder, where you found Roger cutting the stems off the bouquet of flowers one-at-a-time. Your eyes fell to the heart-shaped-box, and Roger put the knife in his hand down to move the box closer to you.
”’S’ll be our dessert,“ he smiled kindly. You offered a friendly smile back, your cheeks still warm from earlier, as you turned your attention back to dinner.
"Y'know… if we even get there,” Roger finished. Your eyes widened and you turned your gaze back to him. The little bugger was back to cutting the stems off the flowers he bought you, his lips gently upturned in an innocent grin.
"… Are you okay?“
"Hm?” Roger opened up one of the cupboards to retrieve a flower vase. He moved to the sink, ran the faucet, and began filling it with water.
"What are you talking about? I feel great.“
"You’re just…” You squinted your eyes. “You’re acting really weird."
Roger shut off the faucet, and leaned back against the counter to look at you.
He was giving you this look… it was like how he looked at you at the Garrison’s the week before. But there was something off about it.
His gaze seemed… Darker.
"Just getting my mind off things,” was all he had to say before picking the vase up from inside the sink and returning to the flowers on the counter.
You tried your best to return your focus back onto dinner, reaching for another carrot to cut up. Meanwhile, Roger was dissolving the plant nutrients in the water.
By the time you reached the final carrot, the room was still quiet, and Roger, moving to pick up the bouquet and redirect them into the vase, paused his movements to look over his shoulder at you.
Roger watched intensely as you moved around the little area you were working in. His eyes were fixed on the back of your head, but as time progressed, he began to find it difficult to keep his eyes from viewing lower, and lower…
"… Y/n, have I ever told you how pretty you are?“ Roger asked suddenly. You turned to him in startled confusion, and Roger made a face of regret. He mentally chastised himself for saying that.
This was how he picked up women. You were not just a woman. You were much, much more than that.
You laughed nervously, and awkwardly turned back to the carrot that had nearly been forgotten on the cutting board. You tried distracting yourself from Roger’s strange behaviour by dicing each carrot slice you prepared.
"You do realize you’re not in public, right, Rogie? You don’t have to be that nice to me."
"But I’m being serious.” The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board ceased again, and you finally dropped the knife to properly approach Roger.
You crossed your arms over your chest and sighed in pretend annoyance, though the charade didn’t last long.
“Alright. You got me. What do you want?"
"A favour."
"What kind of favour?” you challenged with a smile, one you’d tried to suppress, but gave in to.
Classic Roger, you thought, King of bribery AND flirting.
Roger opened his mouth to speak again, but the words were caught in his throat.
He suddenly went pale, and your smile contorted into one of worry. “… Roger?”
"O-um… well Y/n, y-you see, uh…“ Roger’s gaze fell helplessly to the floor as he stumbled over his words nervously, his cheeks growing hotter with every try. This especially worried you.
Roger was the most confident man you knew, and watching him be this hesitant about something really bothered you. In a case like this, you would have probably made fun of him, but you could see how stressed he must have felt, so you rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.
It was as if your touch was magic. Roger’s stuttering ceased, and he looked at you with big round eyes.
Then he took a deep breath.
"Y/n, I talked to the guys today.”
"… About?“
"Us. This…” Roger gestured to the house. “… Situation we’re in.” You both knew he was stalling from asking what he needed to, but you tried to keep patient.
“Look, Y/n, I feel awful, and I know I made a promise to you about no groupies…"
”… This is what this is about?” you asked dryly. “You not being able to have women over?“
"What?! No! Well– yes, but–” you removed your hand from Roger’s shoulder and went back to cutting vegetables, the sound of the blade hitting the wooden cutting board getting louder and louder as time ticked on.
All of that stuttering just for him to tell you he needed sex. Of course you were pissed off, and Roger knew that. You had a deal. In fact, he was horrified with himself. And now that you were angry, he was certain you would say no to the burning question he needed to ask.
"Then go.“ You told him sharply. "Go find someone to sleep with. Just don’t bring her back here. If you’re ever caught, we are done for."
Roger’s heart ached at your words. He tried to speak, but, like before, he couldn’t get the words out.
He didn’t care if it was too late, he had to tell you he wanted you; that he needed you.
"Y/n,"
"I said go!” You turned to him angrily as you shouted, and Roger could swear your eyes were glassy with fresh, unfallen tears, though you blinked them back stubbornly.
He breathlessly apologized, and rushed out of the house as fast as possible, leaving you alone in the kitchen, homemade pizza in the oven almost ready to come out, and a half prepared garden salad that would never be eaten.
_________________________________
Roger stood in the candy section of the supermarket for a second time that day, red eyes scanning the shelves for something you liked.
Rather than listening to you and getting laid, he was more focused on rebuilding the relationship he was unintentionally tearing down.
He needed to apologize to you as soon as possible, and going empty handed, Roger decided, was not a good idea.
"Pissed off your girlfriend too, mate?“ Roger looked to his right to see another man his age, looking at the wide selection of romantically-wrapped sweets before him.
”… Yeah, you could say that.“
"Figured. See, in times like this,” the stranger began as he slowly walked down the aisle before reaching out and grabbing a cheap candy bar from off the shelf.
“The best thing you can do is buy her her favourite candy bar, give her a kiss, and tell her how much you appreciate and love her.”
Roger silently thought this to himself, and although he wanted to somehow thank the guy for his advice, he was already giving Roger an encouraging slap on the shoulder and exiting the aisle to pay for his girlfriend’s gift.
______________________________
When Roger got home it was just before midnight. He made sure to enter the house and close the door as quietly as he could in case you were sleeping.
After toeing his shoes off and hanging up his once again wet jacket, he went to the kitchen. There, he set a large bag of your favourite candy bars down on the counter so the rustling of the plastic bag didn’t wake you up.
He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his back pocket, and opened it to retrieve a new one. He mumbled a curse when he realized he only had two left, and he hadn’t bothered to pick any more up when he was in town more than once that day.
He just tossed the nearly empty carton on the table, and that’s when he saw the vase of flowers he neglected to finish preparing.
They were placed and displayed beautifully and intricately; the definite works of a woman. Roger couldn’t pull off making such a display if he tried to do it on his own.
He guessed that was one reason to appreciate you: your creativity.
But he appreciated you for many other things. The list was just so long; if Roger had to name everything he appreciated about you, he wouldn’t even know where to start, and his rambles would surely never end.
He placed the cigarette between his lips, and wandered to the back door. He took his time getting there.
There was no need to hurry.
He slid the door open a crack, and lit his cigarette with a lighter he’d left on the counter.
After the first inhale, and watching as he blew the smoke out into the wet, miserable night, Roger already began to feel a little better.
He still felt guilty about his earlier conflict with you, but he planned out and repeated what he wanted to say to you to and from the supermarket.
"I don’t want just anyone. I want you.“
Like his journey home, Roger began mumbling the statement like a mantra between his draws of smoke.
After getting to the filter of the cancer stick, Roger flicked it outside before sliding the patio door shut and locking it. Afterwards, he went upstairs, prepared for bed, and went to his room.
There, he turned his bedside lamp on and retrieved a notebook, his book of lyrics and brainstorm ideas for songs, from under his pillow. He opened it up and began writing in it.
Hearing a knock on his door was the last thing Roger expected that night, but when you slowly walked in, and stared at him from your place at the door, he put the book down and gave you his full attention.
"Rog… Look,"
"Y/n, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You pursed your lips, and Roger beckoned you over with his finger.
You slipped into the room completely, and shut the door behind you.
When Roger felt the dip in the mattress, he reached out to touch you. He didn’t have an exact plan on what he was doing, so his hand fell to your back, and he decided to rub slow, soothing circles around your shoulder blades.
"… Y/n, I don’t want just anyone,“ he finally blurted out after a while of silence.
You looked at him in confusion, and Roger’s hand stopped rubbing your back. The silence in the air was thick, and Roger tried his best not to start panicking again.
"I uh…” He removed his hand from your back and awkwardly shifted in his spot.
“I wanted to explain earlier that… that I wanted to um… maybe… talk to you about uh… adding onto this… this agreement."
The look you gave him was devastating. Big, sad eyes, and downturned lips. You felt guiltier than ever. You wanted to apologize for what you’d said, and how you acted earlier, but you didn’t even bother.
Roger wouldn’t have allowed it, anyways.
"Yes…?"
You asked gently, reaching your own hand out and placing it reassuringly on his thigh. Roger stared down at your hand for a moment, taking a shaky, deep breath.
”… Don’t you think it’d… y'know… be easier if… we were friends but… helped each other uh…“ he couldn’t continue further than that. He tried, but he physically couldn’t say any more.
"Are you… suggesting what I think you are?"
"If what you’re thinking is that we can sleep with one another with no strings attached then yes.” His words rushed out of his mouth like a flood, and Roger felt as if he was overheating.
He wouldn’t dare to speak, or move until you did.
And he was glad to have made that decision.
You, after recovering from the shock of Roger’s confession, wasted no time in gripping Roger by the hips, and pulling yourself up into his lap.
Roger exclaimed in surprise when you did this, and after wrapping your legs around his hips, your fingers slid back into his blond hair, and you kissed him with a hunger neither of you expected you to possess.
Kissing you, Roger decided, was better than he ever dreamed it could be. Your lips were soft; your kiss was forceful and controlling, only making this more enjoyable for him; and the way you were touching him– pulling his hair and tightening your legs around him– teased the absolute hell out of him.
And he loved every single passing second of it.
Roger’s hesitation melted away quicker than he expected, and in no time one of his hands was gripping your thigh while the other held the back of your head.
You pulled at Roger’s hair harder, and a smirk played at your lips as he let a deep growl elicit from the back of his throat.
You let your tongue slide past Roger’s lips and into his mouth, to which he made another, pleased noise. Both of his hands grabbed your hips, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the waistband of both your pyjama bottoms and your underwear beneath as he forced his tongue into your own mouth.
You encouraged him to continue when you whined rather loudly, practically begging him to kiss you like that again.
His confidence and ego only inflated from there.
He moved the both of you around so you were lying beneath him, his hands on either side of your head. He dipped down to kiss and suck your neck like it was the only thing he knew how to do.
His hips lowered down onto yours, and you, without thinking, whined again and slammed your hips up to excitedly grind against Roger’s, who let out another deep, guttural moan.
His hands tightened into fists as grasped his bedsheets beneath you and pulled at them tightly to restrain himself from either being too rough with you, or taking you right then and there.
In fact, he had to eventually force himself to pull back, but just enough to get a good look at you. He noticed your beautiful, untouched hair just waiting to be pulled; your hot, red face; your parted lips swollen from the assault of his own; and your quick, heaving chest.
His eyelids lowered and he licked his lips.
You were the most beautiful thing he had ever set eyes on.
He shifted his hips around once or twice more, and when he watched you shut your eyes and bite your lip, he decided he couldn’t handle your erotic behaviour any longer.
"Fuck,“ he huffed deeply, hands releasing the blankets beneath you to grip your ass. You opened your eyes slowly, and smirked.
You, of all people, had Roger Taylor hot, bothered, and completely at your mercy.
Roger reached over without breaking eye contact with you to retrieve a condom and a bottle of lube from the dresser in his bedside table, meanwhile, you clicked the lamp on the very same table off.
It was time to get to work, and see how beneficial this new addition to the deal would be for the both of you.
_____________________________
A/A/N: Man, I REALLY hope this chapter does well. Things are only gonna get better from here, and I promise! No more lacking!
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The Couple Next Door IV (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)
Find Part III Here
A/N: Happy Early Valentine’s Day, Y’all! I wrote a lot for the next part of this series, so I decided to split them up in two chapters. I’m posting this one tonight, and the other will be up at some point tomorrow afternoon.
This chapter is in 3rd Person Omniscient for Rogie like the previous one, and the reader will not be in this chapter but the next one, so I apologize if it’s not that good.
Don’t forget to show your support and enjoyment for the fic by leaving likes, comments, and reblogging!
Summary: Roger has a chat with the band, and does some more thinking.
(Roger can be Ben Hardy!Rog or Real!Rog. Whatever stirs your soup.)
WARNINGS: Swearing, s l o w b u r n, Mentions of sex (BuT nO sMuT [yet(?)]), no revision and editing bc I’m lazy, I think that’s it.
This one is leaning more towards an M rating than a T, so read at your own risk.
“Eh… no no no. Take it from the top. Roger?”
The blond looked through the window to Freddie, who just made it to the practice.
He was wearing some ridiculous flashy outfit as usual, a pair of massive white sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose while an equally distracting burgundy coat made its presence known on the singer’s shoulders. Whether he wore a shirt underneath is still a mystery.
In his right hand, Freddie held a steaming hot cup of tea, gripped tight by his long fingers, each nail painted black. From the waist down, although he couldn’t see, Roger wouldn’t be surprised if Freddie was wearing booty shorts.
"You okay, Love?“
He only responded with a simple thumbs up, and an unenthusiastic look on his face; and although Fred didn’t seem too convinced, the music started playing, and Roger tried his part again.
"Been out of the flow all morning,” Brian informed the frontman, biting his thumbnail and crossing his legs from the wall he leaned against. “He got here, and didn’t count us in the first few times we played. Figured he needed some time to play for himself.”
"Hm,“ Freddie acknowledged, taking a peek at some loose papers scattered around the control desk and taking a sip of his tea.
"And how long ago did you two decide this?“
"Forty five minutes ago,” John grumbled at his spot at the control desk, legs crossed, and head propped up with his hand in bore.
"We tried confronting him and he’s not speaking,“ Brian explained. “Gave you a call and no one answered the phone. We assumed you were on your way.”
Freddie looked around the room, and he pointed at the second, empty seat at the control desk. “Where’s–”
After another timing mistake, Roger flung his drumstick towards the window, shouting profanities when the stick just riccoched and hit him right back, and startling the other three men in the process.
"… Y/n,“ Freddie finished carefully, eyes wide and focused on Roger’s movements.
"We both assume she’s got somethin’ to do with it. He won’t say anything.” John mumbled with a shrug.
Freddie pursed his lips, and sighed, scanning the control desk for the PA system’s button.
"Rog, my Love. Just… put the drumsticks down.“
Roger, who was about to send his second drumstick against the wall to meet the fate his first one did, lowered his arm slowly to his side, eyeing his band’s frontman in the window, who was twiddling his fingers at him.
"Good. Now, come on in here. We’re all gonna sit down. Have a chat.“
Roger’s shoulders slumped, and he left the recording room so he could regroup with his three other bandmates. Roger just frowned. Just as he suspected, Freddie was sporting a pair of body shorts.
Freddie moved his eyes from Roger to the empty seat next to John.
The drummer dropped into the chair, letting it roll him a little bit away from the staring eyes of the others.
"The others here tell me you’ve been a little… upset, since you’ve been here this morning."
Roger scoffed, and tried to stand from his chair, but Freddie dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"I know there’s something wrong,” Freddie quietly mumbled. “We just wanna help you. Tell us what’s wrong, and you’re helping us, too.”
Roger chewed the inside of his cheek, looking guiltily towards John and Brian. “… Hope you know I didn’t mean to shout earlier, yeah?"
"Kind of assumed so, yeah,” John offered a kind smile, to which Roger tried to return, but he just looked uncomfortable.
"It’s uh… it’s just, um…“
"Is… y'know… is y/n okay?”
Roger’s smile fell. “Wait, why? Why would she not be okay? Did you get a phone call from her?!” Roger stood up, “oh my God, is she okay?!”
"Hey, hey, hey, calm down, calm down!“ Brian intervened, hands up. "She’s fine. We’ve heard nothing from her. We were just asking you.”
Roger sat back down, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and sighing deeply. “Look, I’m sorry. Yes. Yeah, it is her. She’s… Driving me nuts right now.”
"Why now? You two were perfectly fine last week.“
"It’s been the interactions with the neighbours,” Roger complained. “do you know how hard it is not to start sweating every time we hold hands in public now?”
John frowned. “But… You hold other girls’ hands all the time. Why would y/n be different?”
"I don’t know! I don’t know and that’s why I’m like this!“
Freddie smirked, and Roger could sense the glint in his eyes despite them still being covered by his sunglasses.
"Seems to me,” Freddie popped his lips. “Roger’s in love with y/n.”
John smirked at the thought, and Brian had this wide grin on his face Roger really wanted to slap off.
"Fred, I really don’t think that’s the problem here–“
”‘Ts weird. I’ve always had a thing for y/n, maybe I’m in love with her.“
"Seeing a girl naked by accident doesn’t mean you’re in love with her, John.” Roger snapped back nearly immediately, to which Brian chimed in:
"Funny how you’re the one telling John that when I had to say the same thing to you in high school.“
Roger was mad, but he was even more embarrassed. His face was a deep scarlet, and Freddie wasn’t sure if the colour of Roger’s cheeks were because of his fury, or because he knew Brian was right.
"Come talk to me, Roger. Talk to the King of Love,” Freddie coaxed Roger with his index finger as he fell back dramatically on the sofa against the wall opposite the control table.
Roger simply rolled his eyes and relocated to the empty seat on the sofa by Freddie’s feet. The frontman kicked his bare legs out and crossed them over Roger’s lap while stretching this thin arms and placing them behind his head.
"When’d this all start happening, Rog? I mean the weird feelings.“
To this, the drummer simply shrugged. "Last week we had dinner at the neighbours’. The husband was talking about children, and marriage, and it was like…"
Brian and John raised their eyebrows expectantly.
"It was like I wasn’t acting anymore.”
Freddie gave a knowing smile, and hummed gently. “Did you feel comfortable? Being domestic and romantic with her?"
"Fred, I’ve lived with those two for three years, and they have zero personal space.” Brian’s eyes moved from his reflection in Freddie’s sunglasses to the stressful gaze in Roger’s. “… is it different?”
"Bri, I had women over all the time when we lived with you. I had no reason to have a girlfriend. I slept around, got the physical affection I needed, and she was just a friend…“
John pursed his lips. ”Was,“
Roger nodded a little, his eyes casting downward and burning holes into his already torn jeans. "Yeah. Was."
The blond suddenly looked up at his other bandmates. "We’re pretending to be a couple in a conservative, strict neighbourhood. It’s not like y/n would allow me to invite groupies home with us while catty neighbours spy on us from across the way. I’m not getting the physical attention I used to have, especially since sleeping around is impossible now."
The room then fell silent, and no one exactly made an immediate effort to say anything.
And then John gave a half-shrug.
"Why don’t you ask y/n?"
"Ask her what?”
"Ask her to give you that attention,“ Freddie finished John’s point in a matter-of-fact tone.
”No,“ Roger gasped. "No. No no no!"
"What? It’s a great idea,” Brian tried to reason.
"It’s bloody suicide! What would she think of me?! A sex-addict? A creep? A waste of time?“
”Roger,“ Brian stopped Roger’s listing. "She’s a single, gorgeous woman who loves you with all her heart, romantically-speaking, or not. You two already have this sort of secret commitment thing happening anyways but with housing rather than physical affection.”
"And your point is…?“
Freddie took over for Brian then with a sigh. "She has nothing to lose. You have nothing to lose. Why would adding onto your deal be a bad thing?"
To this, Roger didn’t respond. He didn’t have an answer. Freddie continued. "You sleep with women with no strings attached all the time. Living with your best friend while also bedding her doesn’t seem like a bad idea. What are you gonna do, catch feelings for her? You’re just horny.”
"… Do you really think that’s all that’s wrong?“
"That you’re stressed and just need a good lay?” John clarified.
"Absolutely.“
It was almost as if a weight had been lifted off Roger’s shoulders. All of his past issues were gone, out of his mind.
He had nothing to worry about.
"There’s that smile we all needed,” Freddie gushed at Roger, who lowered his head in mild embarrassment.
"C'mon Rog. Let’s get to work.“ Freddie jumped up to stand before the control table, and Brian took a seat next to John. Roger returned to his drum kit inside the recording room, and after a count-in, Roger started drumming.
Needless to say, practice was flawless for the rest of the day.
_______________________________
A/A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed! Remember, new chapter up tomorrow!
@culturefiendtrashqueen @luvborhap @amy-brooklyn99 @scarsout @kimmietea @ohtheseboysilove @demo-wise @suavishowell @bohemianahoy @pippin248
The Couple Next Door III (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)
Find Part II Here
A/N: Okay, yes, I may or may not have written this in less than a day, and no, I’m not the happiest with it. Then again, I’m not exactly always happy with what I produce. As long as my works entertain others, that’s all that matters.
But anywho, I wrote this part of the series in 3rd person Omniscient for Roger because we need to know what’s going inside that tiny head of his.
Don’t forget to leave notes, show your support and interest in my pieces by sending in a reply. All support and feedback is greatly appreciated! :)
Summary: Roger and you spend dinner at the Garrisons, and Roger does some thinking.
(Again, Borhap! or Canon! Rog, whatever tickles your peaches)
WARNINGS: Swearing, slow burn, mentions of sex (nO sMuT), mentions of drugs, alcohol, overthinking(?) idk this part made me a tiny bit sad)
I’m rating this a T, but the subject matter is a little heavier than my previous parts of this fic. I would advise you to proceed with caution.
Roger stepped out of the shower, staring at his muted reflection in the foggy mirror before reaching for a towel. He took his time towel-drying his hair, and by the time he’d dried himself completely off, the steam in the bathroom dissipated just enough for him to be able to make out his facial features in that same mirror.
At this point he reached for the blow dryer on the right side of the counter. After fully removing the vapour off the mirror with it, he used it to completely dry his hair.
His fingers ran through his blond strands carefully as he tried to make sure he didn’t leave anything wet.
As much as Roger liked his hair, he’d rather have some girl pulling on it than him.
But that was besides the point.
Roger set down the blow dryer after a while, and just stared at himself in the mirror, his hands on either side of the vanity.
What the fuck was he doing?
He decided to fake a relationship with you, (on a limb, I may add) for the benefits of having a nice place to live.
It sucked that his days of sleeping around were coming to an end, though he didn’t exactly mind it.
In a way, Roger loved you. But it was like… a weird love. Almost like a “you-are-my-best-friend-and-I-would-die-for-you-but-if-you-totally-wanted-to-kiss-me-I-wouldn’t-think-twice-about-reciprocating” kind of love.
He’d felt like this towards you since high school, but you were with someone, and he forced his feelings down by sleeping with so many women he probably couldn’t remember any of their names if he tried.
Eventually, with all the drugs and alcohol he consumed, and all the skirts he’d been under for the last five years, that other, almost forbidden feeling towards you, was gone.
Well… Until now.
"Rog, you good in there?“ You called through the bathroom door. The sound of your voice almost had his heart jump up into his throat. He circled a towel around his waist, and opened the door.
You looked him up and down, and Roger could swear he saw your cheeks glow. "Damn, you’re looking good, Rogie."
He choked out a strained laugh, averting his eyes to the small droplets of water on his feet. "Wel-uh.. th-thanks, um… y/n."
You rolled your eyes, a dopey smile on your face. "And you thought I took those compliments seriously.” You squeezed past a nearly heartbroken Roger in the threshold of the door, and you reached into the medicine cabinet for your toothbrush.
“All I need to do after this is put on my lipstick, and you’re not even dressed! We’re supposed to be over there in five minutes!"
This had Roger disappearing immediately into the second guest room on the left, the one you decided would be his room after he forfeited the master bedroom over to you.
You just shook your head before shoving your tooth brush into your mouth.
_______________________________
"Just… be calm."
"I am calm. You’re the one that’s not calm."
"Why would I tell you to be calm if I’m not?"
Roger was about to respond just before Anna opened the door. Roger and you immediately slapped painfully wide grins on your faces, and greeted the older woman with a soft hello as you stepped inside.
"Something smells good,” Roger complimented as he removed his jacket. "Thank you, Roger. It’s almost ready. I’d give it another fifteen minutes, and then we’ll dine.“
Roger nodded to Anna with a smile and turned towards you. He helped you take your jacket off, and you watched as he placed the coats on an empty hook on the wall.
He faced you again, and winked. He reached down and grabbed your hand, giving it a warm squeeze before you were both led further into the Garrison’s home.
Anna encouraged you both to take a seat on the sofa while she continued watching the food.
"Charlie kept an eye on the casserole while I grabbed the door. He’ll be out in just a minute, loves."
"Take your time,” you called to her as she made a beeline to the kitchen, leaving Roger and you alone.
Roger pursed his lips, twirling his thumbs in the sudden, and awkward silence. He took this time to examine the tidy, well-furnished home.
He began silently counting all of the framed photographs on the wall.
He came across one of Anna and Charles. It seemed to have been an older one compared to some of the others. They were in wedding attire, Roger guessed, from the thirties or forties, the newlyweds brandishing bright, and ecstatic grins.
He couldn’t help but smile back at the photograph.
He didn’t feel as if it were a necessity to get married, but he wished he would find pure elation being with you.
It didn’t matter if he could never properly marry you; if he discovered you were never in love with him in the first place… or even if things did turn out that way; he just saw you. No one else.
It had to be you.
Roger’s eyes flitted to the right when Charles returned from the kitchen.
"Sorry to keep you kids waiting,“ he said sincerely, sitting down in his living room chair.
” ’S no rush, Mr. Garrison,“ Roger assured him.
No one really decided to say anything after that. It was silent for a few second too long, and Charles laughed a little.
"Geez, are you guys uncomfortable? You both look tense. You’re good here. You can relax. Been a long day for you two–"
"Charlie?"
"Oop– Excuse me,"
Charles pardoned himself from your presence to see what his wife needed.
You sighed heavily, and Roger’s head began to spin.
How could this look more natural…?
”… hey um…“ Roger mumbled gently, successfully grabbing your attention, and you raised an eyebrow in confusion.
Roger licked his lips, his hand slowly lifting and moving to hover just over your knee. His eyes refused to look back into your own.
You caught sight of his hand in your peripherals, and after looking downwards, you glanced back up at Roger.
"Is uh… is it okay If I…?”
You simply nodded, and Roger sighed in relief, his hand lowering onto your leg. You shifted the smallest bit closer to him, and you smiled a little at how embarrassed he was to be touching you like he would with any other girl.
You placed your hand affectionately over top of his when he started rubbing circles on your pant leg with his thumb.
Your cheeks were a pretty shade of pink, and Roger’s were, too.
Charles returned from the kitchen just then. “She "lost her glasses”. They were right on her face and neither of us even noticed until she saw herself in the window!“
You and Roger laughed along with Charles in regards to his wife’s antics.
"But enough about her, I see her every day. Tell me more about you. How long have you had this one for, Roger?"
The drummer smiled at you, taking a moment to himself to search your entire face for an imperfection; maybe a loose eyebrow hair, some smeared makeup, lipstick on your teeth, or even an ugly zit he could make fun of you for later. But there was nothing wrong with you.
He couldn’t find one thing on your entire face he didn’t like.
"I wish I could tell you I’ve had her forever, Charles…"
You looked into his eyes. There was something… not quite right.
It was the way he was looking at you.
He’d never looked at you like that before.
Not with that much adoration; and never, did you ever think, you’d describe Roger’s tone as "dripping with affection”. At least, not when he spoke of you.
“It’s been about five years.” Roger concluded. “Best years of my life."
"And the fact you’re still going strong makes me very happy,” Charles mused, his eyes shining with joy.
"Things’ll get even better. Wait until you’re married and have children!“
That statement had your blood run ice cold, and you could swear Roger’s eye twitched at the word.
Children.
"I remember when my wife told me she was pregnant. It was one of the greatest days in my life, though their actual births and my wedding day are easily the top two."
You opened your mouth, but no words would come out. You cleared your throat and tried again. "Uhm…” Charles turned your way. “We never really um…” you took a deep breath and tried again. “Well, we’ve never really sat down and really… discussed whether or not we even want kids.”
“No um… we just… can’t see ourselves as parents. To a baby. With our face. It just seems so… surreal.”
“Roger,” The blond swallowed, and nodded to Charles in acknowledgement.
“Becoming a father is so rewarding. Wait ‘till you have a baby girl or a little boy, and you hold 'em in your arms for the first time. All that doubt will just wash away. Anna and I were so confident in our parenting skills, we had four more little ones!”
You couldn’t imagine having more than just one child, let alone five, or any of Roger’s, for that matter. The concept was so foreign to you, especially when it’s suggested that the father of these kids is the man who purposely puts the toilet roll on backwards because, and only because, it pisses you off.
Anna called the three of you to the table, cutting the conversation short, though you were relieved to get your mind off how hilariously ridiculous it sounded that you were sort of expected to give birth to Roger Meddows Taylor’s offspring.
He, on the other hand, couldn’t shake the idea. He spent the whole dinner on auto-pilot, trying to imagine how a child could share both his and your features.
He watched you a lot during dessert, trying to decide his favourite part of your face, something that he would be happy for your hypothetical child with him to be graced with.
But much like earlier, he realized he loved your face so much, he couldn’t make an ultimate decision.
Much like you, Roger thought the concept was close to impossible, as well.
He didn’t want to come down with a “Baby Fever”, so he took the next chance he could to talk about something distracting. The subject was averted to music, and Roger’s drumming and things like that.
He was just glad his subconscious wasn’t focused anymore about which room in the condo would hypothetically be the baby’s.
_______________________________
“Thank you for inviting us over, Anna. That was the best casserole I’ve had in my life. Just don’t tell my mother.” Anna laughed at your joke, and teasingly assured you she wouldn’t.
Roger, after helping you put your jacket back on, held the door open for you, and after saying your final good byes to both Anna and Charles, the both of you were left alone in the cool summer night.
Your slow walk down the drive with Roger was very quiet. You two didn’t say anything.
You both took slow, careful steps towards your new home, two pairs of eyes searching the sky for constellations.
Roger’s hands were stuffed into his jean pockets, and you had your arms crossed over your chest.
He expected you to start rambling about how much of a disaster the entire visit was, and how there was certainly not enough casserole for left overs as Anna suspected, but you said nothing.
So he said nothing.
Roger climbed the stairs up to your front door, and unlocked it, wordlessly holding it open for you. You just nodded in thanks, and stepped inside, Roger close behind.
That’s where you both disbanded. You went right upstairs, leaving Roger alone in the dark front corridor. He just sighed, and locked the door as his eyes fixed to the blackness of the room.
He went straight to the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. There were a few beer bottles in the fridge, and he reached for one, twisting the cap off with his shirt before taking a swig.
He shed his jacket and tossed it on the couch before sitting in the chair on the other side of the living room, and propping his feet up on the ottoman.
Upstairs, he could hear the tub’s faucet running. You were showering.
Taking another sip of his beer, Roger decided to wait until you were out of the shower and in bed before he went upstairs.
"… Rog?“
Roger’s eyes snapped open and he sat up with a start, gaze shooting to the hand on his arm.
Your hand.
Roger exhaled, and rubbed his tired eyes, his brain registering that you’d turned some of the lights on.
"Scared the bloody ‘ell outta me, y/n,” He slurred groggily, rubbing his forehead and combing his hair back with his fingers.
“I’m so sorry! I went to knock on your door and you weren’t in there!"
"I was waitin’ here for you t’ go t’ bed…” he must have fallen asleep, you thought as you rubbed the side of his arm.
“Well I was checking in on you to let you know the bathroom was free if you needed in."
” ’M fine, Love. Thanks, though.“ He removed his feet from the ottoman, and rubbed the back of his neck, a number of empty beer bottles falling from his lap and onto the carpet below.
”… I swear I only 'member grabbin’ one.“
”… You go upstairs, okay? I’ll put you to bed.“ You bent down and started picking up the bottles.
Roger, who was on his feet, and turning the corner, stopped to watch you. He counted every bottle you picked up off the floor.
The higher the number, the guiltier he felt.
By the time you picked up five, Roger was already gone, upstairs and changing into some nighttime clothes.
He blindly chose his clothes, the combination being a pair of checkered pants and a Rolling Stones t-shirt.
He didn’t even bother trying to make an effort to get up and brush his teeth. He just climbed into bed and shut his eyes.
But as promised, you walked into his room, and sat on his bed.
”… Roger, you know I didn’t hear the faucet running.“
That’s how easily convincing you were to him: Seconds later Roger was in the blinding luminescent light of the bathroom, you sitting behind him on the edge of the bathtub as he drunkenly brushed his teeth.
"Spit, rinse, and I’ll meet you in the room.” You rubbed his back gently before leaving him alone in the room.
Roger removed the brush from his mouth, and stared at himself in the mirror, toothpaste froth lining his lips and dripping down his chin in an almost comedic manner.
Roger thought the froth kind of looked like facial hair. He even giggled a little at the idea of him maybe one day having a beard.
But then his smile disappeared, and he wiped his mouth off. Although he remembered only drinking one, he knew why he drank so much more.
Those thoughts about you were returning. The more time he spent with you, the more giddy he’d feel, and the more close he’d want to get.
Roger wondered how he used to be able to teasingly slap your ass and make sexual jokes with you all the time without feeling at the very least flustered with his own actions.
He did it in front of the band all the time when you were around, but it was like he was in high school again.
He always had the urge to kiss you at least once before he died. The constant suppression over the last few years buried that urge six feet under, but it seemed the suppression wasn’t working anymore.
What if, Roger thought, this would be different? He technically had no reason to suppress any feelings he had towards you; well, maybe except for dignity purposes, but that was all.
What if luck and pre-destiny existed, and his chance to be with you just so happened to be now, under these awkward circumstances that would overall result in a blissful future with nothing but happiness…
But why would someone like her want to be with someone like you?
With the depressing thought hanging over him like an obedient rain cloud, he shut the bathroom light off, and moped to his room, where you sat in wait.
You helped Roger climb into bed, and you tucked him in, kissing his forehead like a child.
“If you need me in the night, you know where I am, Blondie.”
Roger nodded, and mumbled his good nights to you before rolling over.
When his bedroom door closed, Roger opened his eyes despite not being able to see anything in the room.
He blinked.
At the beginning of this commitment, pretending to be with you seemed like a piece of cake to him…
… But Roger didn’t know how much longer it would be until his behaviour towards you wasn’t pretend anymore.
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A/A/N: Wow, This is a lot longer than I expected it to be, but I’m glad this part is done. I think I may write in Roger’s perspective more in this fic because he’s got lots of shit running through his mind, clearly. What are y’all’s opinions though?
Anywho, enjoy this, I’m gonna go find something to inspire me for the next chapter.
PERMENANT TAGLIST:
@culturefiendtrashqueen
FIC TAG LIST:
@amy-brooklyn99 @scarsout @kimmietea @ohtheseboysilove @demo-wise @suavishowell @bohemianahoy
Roger: Hey Deaky, guess what’s the difference between oral sex and anal sex?
Brian, covering John ears: Oh my god, rOGER WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!
Roger: So much..-
I HAVE FOUND THIS MASTERPIECE
So, How does it feel like to be a living legend?
listened to Bohemian Rhapsody today… i’m so very sorry