#roger taylor fluff
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Hormones - Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader FanFiction
Summary/AN: I initially intended this to be smut or implied smut, but it came out rather fluffy. I might write a part two if people are interested. The reader is horny and on her period, and has something to share with Roger.
Warnings: mention of periods and pregnancy (non-descrip.), sexual innuendos, etc. Mainly fluff.
Word count: Aprox. 700
Only four months into your relationship you had a pregnancy scare with Roger. Luckily, it was just your period acting up due to stress, but you still decided to go on birth control. Birth control is more acceptable these days, so you were able to get prescribed it rather easily.
Your doctor said, if you’re lucky your period will stop completely. You still got yours but the pill helped regulate your cramps and lowered your flow a bit. You still had horrendous mood swings. Whenever you were in your period you would get insanely horny as well. Hormones are hormones, what would you expect?
You got your monthly yesterday and let Roger know. He always seems a little bummed when you get it, partly because that meant most sexual things were off the table, but also because it pained him to see you in pain.
Roger was sat on the couch, T.V. on a low volume as he flips through a magazine. “These reporters are rubbish. They aren’t reporting anything!” he scowled as he read through the article about the band.
You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving his cheek a quick peck. “Whatcha doing?” you ask, and Roger tosses the magazine away.
“Just reading complete and utter lies,” he mumbles, giving the magazine a side eye. He brushes off the ill feelings about the article and turns his head to meet yours, quickly kissing your lips.
“What’s up?” he asks, and you smile. “Nothing much,” you explain. You find your way around the couch and land in Roger lap.
“I know you’re in your period, Y/N,” he says. “You know how I feel about that stuff.” Roger wasn’t entirely grossed out by menstruation, but he felt that you should be taken care of and rest while on your period, not handled like some one night stand.
“Okay, Mr. Jumping-to-conclusion,” you huff. Roger rolls his eyes with a smile. “I’m not saying that you had that intention, but you know how riled up I get when you sit on my lap like this,”
He was right. If you were him, you wouldn’t be able to resist when you had a breathtaking girl straddling your hips who wouldn’t hesitate to start grinding on you at any moment.
You shrug. “Well sorry that I want to show my beautiful boyfriend some love and affection,” you say, crossing your arms in a dramatic way, and Roger laughs. “Don’t be like that,” he chuckled, giving you a kiss which breaks you out of your bit.
“What can I help you with, love?” he asks. You wrap your arms around his neck again, gently gazing into his.
“I want to have a baby,”
Rogers' soft gaze turns wide. “Y-you want to have a baby?” he stammers his words as he confirms your question. You nod and your smile slowly fades. “Do you not want one?” you ask. Roger quickly shakes his head. “No, no. Of course I want a baby. I’d love to have a baby,” his hands slowly move down to your stomach where your child would be resting. “I just- got caught off guard,” he explains.
You smile at his hands on your stomach, imagining you round with his child. “I want your baby.”
“Is this because you’re horny?” he questions. “Maybe,” you say. “But who says a baby has to be made out of pure, non-sexual love, and not lust?”
Roger nods at your point. “Well you’re going to have to stop taking your pills if you’re serious about this,” he explains. “I’m serious,” you tell him.
You've been thinking about this for a long time, actually. Even before you began dating you imagined yourself round with Rogers child, and his strong arms wrapped around to cup your stomach.
His lips suddenly crash with yours. He smiled against the kiss, humming as his hands moved up to grip your hair lovingly. You breathlessly part from the kiss. Roger leans his forehead against yours. “We’re gonna have a baby…” he whispers, and you smile. “Mhm…” you hum as his hands gently hold the non-existence fetus in your stomach. “You’re gonna be the best daddy there ever was…”
You hear a small snicker from Roger. “Trying to get me even more riled up?” he jokes. You hit his shoulder and laugh. “Shut up,” you say. He grins and gives you another kiss. “And you’re going to be the best mommy in the world, I promise…”
#roger taylor#queen band#fan fiction#roger meddows taylor#roger taylor fanfics#roger taylor queen#roger taylor fanfic#roger taylor fanfiction#roger taylor fandom#roger taylor fluff#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor drummer#roger taylor smut#queen#queen fandom#queen fanfiction#queen roger taylor#roger taylor queen band#pregnancy fic
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I’m having a Bob Dylan phase
#bob dylan#led zeppelin#jimmy page#queen#robert plant#queen fanfiction#roger meddows taylor#roger taylor fanfic#roger taylor x reader#queen band#brian may#freddie mercury#john deacon#roger taylor fluff#classic rock#roger taylor#john bonham#john deacon x reader#john paul jones#rock#1970s
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"a hooker? god no!" Roger Taylor fanfic {part 1}
hey! so I'm so so sorry I haven't written a fanfic in 11 days. I've decided to write this one, it may not be amazing, but its what I can do for now till I have more time!!
You were ecstatic that your friend brought you queens studio. you met violet a week ago. you had met in a bar and got to talking. she was more mature then you and had been around, you were only 21 while she was 29.
you both walked into the front of the studio. Roger sat at a table, a cigarette hanging between his fingers near an ash tray while he was staring at a magazine.
"oh my god....is that the drummer?" you gasped in excitement kind of jumping and giggling. "yes, that's roger" she sighed nonchalantly. "anyway I'm gonna go, 5 minutes, stay here" she pointed a finger at you and walked away leaving you alone. "wait...no- you cant just leave me here!" you shouted as she walked away.
shouting out to violet caught rogers attention. you saw his confused and disturbed face as he lifted his head up from his magazine. he looked at you in confusion cocking his head to the side. "hi" you raised your hand. you stood there awkwardly as he looked you up and down.
"hey" he sighed leaning back in his seat. you smiled which he did not return. "you can come sit here if you want" he nodded his head over to the seat next to him.
you walked over and sat down. you were nervous as fuck! you didn't know what to say, you had to remind yourself to breath. "are you violets friend?" he questioned crossing his legs. "uh yea" you smiled and put your head down.
"hm, so are you a fan?"
"oh yea, your music is awesome!" you shook your head yes. he smirked at you. 'thank you". he moved a bit closer to you. "so would you like a drink?". "oh- I don't drink"
"ah, gotcha" he nodded.
he then moved closer to you. "so, do you wanna go somewhere more private?" he raised an eyebrow. you furrowed your brows at him. "huh?"
"well...shouldn't we go somewhere more private?" he chuckled like it was the obvious thing to do. "why...anyway violet will be back any second". he chuckled even more. "hard to get..hm".
"what? what do you mean 'hard to get'" you exclaimed. he furrowed his brows but smiled. "c'mon enough with the games" he grabbed your hand and stood up. you forcefully pushed his hand away.
"what games?".
"your- wait- your not a....."
"a hooker? god no!" you shouted.
"oh- oh my god! I'm so sorry, I just thought..."
"Jesus no, I'm just a fan" you shook her head.
so that's all I'm gonna write for this part, sorry if its short!! hope you like the storyline though!
#roger taylor smut#roger taylor imagine#roger taylor fan fic#x reader#roger taylor#roger taylor fluff#queen fanfiction#queen fandom#brian may queen#queen smut#queen band#roger taylor fanfic
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Sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you could write a Roger Taylor x guitarist reader fluff story, I haven’t been able to find any. (No pressure)
Hi, there anon! I hope you find this! I know I have had BAD writer's block for the Queen Fandom and lack of inspiration to write but I hope you get this and you like it!
Anon, if and when you get this, please send me a dm or ask so I know you got it! Thanks!
Link to My Ko-Fi
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COMMENTS, REBLOGS, AND ASKS OR DMS ABOUT MY WRITING IS APPRECIATED!!!!
Roger Taylor Dating a Guitarist Would Look Like...
First off, we love Rog and he can be a lil shit so he will get competitive and try to get his own guitar to riff off with you. He plays something, and you play something more elaborate. The other band members gather with popcorn, their heads going from one space to another like cats with a toy. It's like "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" but with guitars instead of fiddles. And no way will he let you win (unless you kiss him).
He tries to serenade you and then you give critiques of his form or playing snarkily and he goes "OHHHH Y/N, I was trying to be romantic!" and you both laugh it off. You both enjoy teasing each other like that.
Many Guitarists tend to be more relaxed and creative in their personalities and Roger loves that about you. It makes you so peaceful and fun to hang around and date!
One time for his birthday you write a song for him!!! And he loves it and even cries. Normally, he's the one writing for his muses never the other way around!! So he hugs you and gives you a big ol' smooch!
Both of you talk for hours about his songwriting- his ideas and the various songs you both play. What's easy, what's hard, what you want to learn, etc. (Plus Brian and Freddie Third Wheel so it becomes the guitarist circle)
Once there was a party that was getting very dull very quickly. (Someone suggested hard drugs and that guy was shut down quickly). So you got out your guitar and you and Roger began to duet. People started to request songs and you would try to see if you or Roger could play them- carefully switching the guitar between you two and enjoying the challenge.
Often your fingers are very calloused from all the playing and Roger will flip your hand onto the palm and kiss those lil'finger tips out of affection!!
#carrie writes#anon#anon request#roger taylor#queen#roger taylor imagine#roger taylor fanfiction#roger taylor fanfic#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor x you#roger taylor x y/n#roger taylor fluff#anon ask
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Blank Canvas
By @nic-214
Roger Taylor x Sarina Potgieter | Pure fluff!
Roger and Sarina are on their honeymoon, and they witness a sight that's worth keeping as an endless memory.
#Brian_RogerShipsWeek23#brian and roger ships week 2023#brianrogershipsweek2023#roger taylor fanfic#roger taylor x sarina potgieter#roger taylor fluff#roger x sarina#queen fanfic
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"Slut!"
Pairing - Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader
Summary - It was perfect. Lovelorn and nobody knows. Love thorns all over this rose. You almost forgot just how hard the fall back to reality is. But if they call you a slut, it might be worth it for once.
Steve Rogers Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist
"She goes through guys like a train-"
You immediately change the channel. The next one isn't better. You don't know why you thought it would be.
"The Stark last name and the long list of ex-lovers, that's her claim to fame. I mean, let's be honest here, she's a slu-" The tabloid reporter is abruptly cut off as the screen before you goes dark.
You look up to find Steve with the remote in his hand. He glares at the screen like the reporter was still talking, "You shouldn't be watching that."
"I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't be. It's despicable. They were - the things they're calling you-"
"A slut," you finish for him.
His eyes dart to you, that furrow between his eyebrows getting deeper and deeper with every word spoken, "It's not true. This isn't journalism, it's slander."
You weren't sure how this happened. Sure, it was only a matter of time before they found you out. This wasn't the first time. Not the second or the third either. If the press was to be believed, you were love sick. Love struck with a new man every week.
It wasn't the first time someone called you a slut. It certainly wouldn't be the last.
You stopped living your life in fear of what people would say a long time ago. Being this young was an art. And up until now, you thought you mastered it.
It was simple. You even had your rules. You followed them and no one got hurt - or at the very least, it minimized the damage.
They were going to stare at you. Strangers. Press. The flashing cameras. It came with being a Stark. If they're going to look, you gave them something to look at. You didn't so much as step out on the street with a single hair out of place. You were flawless. Always.
You were nineteen, and on the heels of a breakup with your second ever boyfriend, the first time someone spit that word at you - "slut!" It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. It almost made you laugh. You realized that they didn't really care about your love life or about the trail of broken hearts you were supposedly leaving behind. They wanted a spectacle. They wanted a show. If you're going to be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.
It was easier after that. You knew the truth. The people around you knew the truth. You let everyone else believe what they wanted. You did what you wanted. You lived your life without worrying about being called a slut. They were going to call you one anyway. And if they call you a slut, you might as well make it worth it.
You gave just enough to keep them satisfied. Never anything too real. Never too much. Just enough that they wouldn't dare peak behind closed doors. Just enough to be able to live your life.
There were was a cost, of course. No one took you seriously. You dealt with the vague humiliation of the rumors constantly swirling about your hips and thighs and whispered sighs.
And though you inherited the Stark genius, no one cared about what you thought, what you had to say.
In that, the reporter was right, your love life was far more interesting than your thoughts on quantum mechanics or the military industrial complex. That was what you were known for.
For the most part, you were okay with it. You were willing to pay it all.
That was until you fell in love with Steve Rogers. Suddenly, you weren't willing to give them crumbs. You weren't willing to expose a love that felt this delicate.
You sit on the couch, huddled in your sweatpants, pensively staring at the blank screen.
This time, it was different. This wasn't a show, not a spectacle. It was real, an exposed nerve that the world decided was fair game. You were fair game and it was open season.
Steve settles beside you, draping an arm around your midsection. He kisses your temple, "Tony thinks it's probably best that you lay low for a while."
"Yes, well, my brother is the expert on PR damage control."
It wasn't the same though. You both knew it. Tony had done far worse with far more women. Yet, he would never pay the price you were paying in this very moment.
Steve's arms tighten around you like he's shielding you from the storm, "It's not right. It's not fair that you're being forced to sequester yourself. You're being punished but what exactly was your crime?"
"I fell in love with Steve Rogers, that was my crime." You fell for the man everyone wanted, the man who was in the wrong place at the right time.
"I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head.
"For what?"
"You warned me this would happen."
It was true. You told him exactly what would happen, but even you didn't anticipate exactly how bad things would get.
You'd been with Steve for just under a year. And up until a week ago, only a select few knew. You both agreed to keep it a secret from the public. You felt protective over the love you shared, it was more real than anything else you'd ever had. You wanted to keep it to yourself, out of the hands of people that would tear you both to shreds without a second thought.
Steve felt the same. Though he was more worried about the enemies he made over the years.
It made sense to protect the relationship, to protect yourselves until you were both ready. You wanted to protect him from what you knew was lurking around the corner. Steve was still so new to the 21st century. Dating in the public eye wasn't easy. Dating a Stark wasn't easy. For almost an entire year, you used every publicity trick in the book - and it worked.
But then, you heard it, the whispers, rumors bubbled about your newest future ex-lover.
You only agreed to going public because everyone told you it was time, because they promised that the timing couldn't have worked out better than this. It was better to do this on your own terms than have it leaked.
No one knew how bad it would get.
"Are you sure? There's no going back after this," you whisper, standing in the hallway of your apartment. You could practically hear the cameras flashing outside your apartment. You'd never been this nervous to leave your apartment before. You'd been through the plan a million times. You'd be exposed to the cameras for a matter of seconds. Happy was already waiting with the door to your SUV open, ready for you to jump in. You'd walk outside holding Steve's hand - a sort of silent announcement to the world. "It won't be easy."
"I don't care," Steve promises, kissing the palm of your hand. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm proud to call you mine."
You tenderly stroke his cheek, "And if it blows up in your pretty face?"
He smiles down at you, "You're worth it."
"We'll pay the price, I guess." But deep down, you know. You'll pay the price, he won't.
The cameras had never been that loud before. Even though your announcement went off without a hitch, even though your publicist couldn't have been more pleased, not even they could have predicted how bad things would get.
It seemed like the whole world was calling you that four letter word.
At first, it was mostly online. People were mean, you knew that. You were prepared for nasty comments. Steve's most staunch supporters thought he could do better. People rejoiced in the spectacle your love life turned into. You were a laughing stock all over again. All that you were prepared for. Then some rabid fans leaked your phone number.
You decided that it would be a good time to disconnect anyway.
But it didn't end there. Not even close.
The day after you were expected to make an appearance for a charity you founded. It was just a quick 2 minute speech. And though the event had been throughly vetted, you'd never forget the way your blood ran cold when mid-sentence someone screamed that four letter word over and over again until security dragged them out. You continued until your speech was done, but there was no hiding the way your hands trembled.
From what you heard, the video was still making its rounds online.
You were expected to make an appearance two days after that. An event honoring your father. An event you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into to make sure it was impeccable, an event worthy of honoring your father. The same event you were practically uninvited from.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's just me. I come in peace," Tony jokes.
"I'm glad," you sigh. "I was worried I was going to have to get another number."
Tony sighs into the phone, "How are you holding up?"
"I've been better."
"I'm afraid I don't come bearing good news."
"What now, Tony?"
"That event you had Friday night, the one for dad?"
You pinch the bridge of your nose. You already knew were this was going. "What about it?"
"They want me to take over for you."
You bitterly scoff, "This week just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"
"You say the word and I'll tell them to fuck off."
"No, don't do that. It's for dad."
"You planned this whole thing single-handedly. You deserve to be the one up there." You don't say a word. He's right, you both know it. It doesn't change the situation you've been put in. "You are still going, right? Come on, you have to go."
"They broke into my house, Tony."
"What? Are you okay?"
"Happy just told me," you explain, sparing Tony the most gory details. "The one in L.A. Apparently, it is now covered in spray paint. You wanna guess what they wrote?"
"Where was your security?" Tony demands.
"Here. Trying to keep people off my sidewalk."
"I'm so sorry."
"I just - I don't think it's a good idea. At least until I get more security."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you've got Steve there. At least I know he'll keep you safe."
You almost smile. Tony was never his biggest fan, but you mostly credit that to him being an overprotective big brother. And the situation you'd found yourself in did nothing to win Tony's over good graces, "It's not his fault, Tony."
"It kinda is, but I digress. Listen, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll go streak in front of the Tower if that'll take some heat off of you."
And though you effectively doubled your security in the last two days, nothing would change anyone's mind about you. You were the villain tainting their hero.
You broke down after that call, violently sobbing against Steve's shoulder. He just pulled you in even tighter.
It reminds you of why you're doing all this. So you can be together, out in the open. That in a world of boys, he's a gentleman.
You squeeze his hand, "You're worth it."
"I'm not worth having your reputation torn to shreds."
And maybe they're right about you. Maybe you do get love struck. Maybe his eyes are like the world's strongest liquor, and it went straight to your head. Maybe you do get love sick. Sure, your life has momentarily fallen apart. It's magic, madness, heaven, and sin, all rolled into one. But if they're going to call you a slut, it might be worth it for once. "But what if all I need is you?"
Steve Rogers Masterlist
AnonymityIsFun Masterlist
Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist
As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛
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The masseuse
Pairing: Roger Taylor x Female Reader.
Summary: You're the masseuse of Roger Taylor, drummer for Queen, but things get more personal as the sessions progress.
Warnings: smut, hand jobs, unprotected sex, slight nipple play.
Word Count: 3k
You were the masseur of several drummers at this point, even athletes, you are used to that level of people, you knew how to handle your nerves, you know that you do your job in an incredible way and that is why you have that reputation.
But Roger Taylor was a thing, he has a personality that you were not used to receive in your sessions, of course you ran into very nice people, but he was a very talkative man, very charming, very polite, extremely soft-spoken. The first time he broke the ice in such a way that you felt your cheeks getting hot, but he never crossed the line in an awkward way. It was a special client.
"So, why did you stop being a model?" he asked softly, while taking off his shirt and kicking his shoes, he looked at you a little from the corner of his eye to catch your reaction.
It took you by surprise, normally your clients don't talk too much, they’d tell you a few things, they’d tell you about some pain they have, etc. You giggled while rubbing your hands with a special gel, "Alright, very funny of you,"
He chuckled, "Sorry, I know that wasn't original, I'm sure you’ve heard better ones," he slowly lay face down on the comfortable massage table, feeling your footsteps getting closer.
"Not really, let's just say I'm not used to this type of comment, not from my clients,"
He felt a slight fear in his chest, "Oh- sorry, didn't mean to offended you," he tried to raise his head to look at you apologetically.
Now you laughed loudly, "Oh no, believe me you didn't," you pushed him down again, slowly with a hand on his shoulder, "Tell me Roger, you want me to start with your lower back?" you asked gently, smiling to yourself, redirecting your attention to your work and maintaining your professionalism.
He smiled to himself too, knowing he didn't cross any line. "Yes please,"
The sessions with Roger were amusing, and of course you weren't going to lie, he was an extremely attractive man with strong magnetism, he knew how to take the conversations where he wanted and had the power to make you feel very comfortable. He could make you feel that the two of you were having a special connection even if it wasn't even happening, he was very engaging.
After the 3rd session you found out his love situation, just out of curiosity (or so you thought) It turned out that according to internet articles and newspapers he had divorced last year.
Interesting.
-
"Fuck," he groaned, "Sorry-" he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the pain.
He was sitting on the couch, both of your hands were massaging the upper part of his right arm, going to his shoulder, the warmth of the room and the smell of the vanilla candles that you had lit minutes before he entered were making him fall asleep, softening it to the maximum.
"Yeah, you're contracted, when was the last time you rehearsed with the band?" you subtly asked, squeezing his shoulder with your fingers, noticing the hardness of his muscles, he was quite stiff, more than normal actually.
"A week ago, we took a short break because we had some problems," he told you, not glad at all, "Ouch" he complained hard when you touched a specific spot.
You frowned, stopping abruptly, thinking. He almost never complained out loud, always little whimpers, grunts or sighs.
He noticed your sudden lack of movement, he shot you a glance.
It was like you were just aware of his face, he was not well, he had bags under his eyes, his face screamed that he was exhausted, not only physically, but also mentally, you could tell.
Words can lie, but the body can’t do it as well, you have learned this over the years.
"Can you lift your chin a bit for me please?" you asked gently.
He did as you said, "Like this?"
You hummed in agreement, "Now turn your head to the left, face the wall,"
He did it.
You started concentrating on the junction of his shoulder and his ear, grazing your index finger, applying a little pressure. And to your not surprise, he had such a contracture that you could even swear that it had reached his jaw.
"Roger are you okay?" That question came out more directly than you had thought.
He found your question a little unexpected but he didn't feel invaded, in fact he enjoyed the talks in the sessions, even though there wasn't much that was discussed about.
"Yes, what was that for?"
"You're not okay, sorry that im telling you this but you're so tense," you realized you were literally invading his personal space, after all you were just his masseuse, not a therapist, automatically shook your head, "Never mind, im sorry, I'm going to apply some heat packs," you quickly changed the subject, a little embarrassed.
He followed your steps with his eyes, seeing how you searched for the heat bags, and after a long silence, he sighed, "My ex is driving me nuts," he blurted out.
You stopped your searching, calming yourself down now knowing he didn’t took it in an akward way, he was speaking and liberating himself from the stress, you grabbed one of the bags and started to fill it with hot water, you didn't expect him to continue talking but he did.
"He just won't leave me alone," weariness in his voice, "It's choking,"
You walked over to the couch with the hot bag, you gave him a compassionate look and stood behind him as you were before, gently resting the bag on the side of his neck, applying just a little pressure as you felt his body melt under the heat, with your other hand you began to massage his other shoulder, your movements were so slow that they were almost hypnotizing. You felt him sigh.
He closed his eyes, "And the band is going through a difficult time," he was focused on the hand that was touching his body, "It's just a lot you know, can't sleep well," he chuckled.
"It's normal, the body stores all our emotions, if they are mismanaged they can manifest as physical pain, that's why I asked you what was going on, sometimes just saying it out loud can relax you enough," you explained, the hand that wasn't holding the bag was working behind his neck.
His head began to fall forward slowly, "You're right" he paused, "The only good thing that happened to me these last few days was coming to your sessions," he laughed tenderly.
It all started to feel so personal, you were becoming aware of the atmosphere, the heat, the sweet smell, the softness of her skin on her contracture, the tips of his blond hair touching the back of your hand, you could hear his breathing, a chill ran through your back appreciating the present moment.
Your heart stopped beating for a moment, "Really?" you said as you put the heat pack on his other shoulder.
"Yeah, it's nice here, you're nice too," he confessed.
You giggled to yourself.
"It always smells good in here, your voice is soothing," he recounted, "And your hands are bloody amazing," he laughed, “They are made of gold, such a privilege,”
And again, that kind of comments that made you blush.
With his last sentence you felt a wave of self-confidence, "Yeah, people always tell me the same thing," you joked, intertwining some fingers with the hair that rested on his neck, causing him to shiver, you leaned just a bit closer to his ear, “Vainilla the candles, if you were wondering,” your tone was no longer profesional.
You really wanted to pull that hair and kiss that neck, you could smell his shampoo, it was intoxicatingly delicious.
Suddenly you had an idea.
"So, same hour tomorrow?" you suggested, you shifted your tone abruptly enough to make him blink, putting away the heat pack and moving closer to him again.
He froze for a moment, not understanding what you were asking him, plus, he was sleepy, "Wasn't it my turn on Friday? What day is today?"
You were amused, you subtly licked your lips, "I think you could use a session with me tomorrow," you placed a hand on his cheek, "I can take care of all that tension," your thumb grazing over his dark circles under his eyes , "The stress," your thumb now finding its way to his mouth.
And just as he was about to suck it, you pulled your hand away. He was totally drugged by your movements, your voice and your words.
You smiled widely, "So, im asking again, same hour tomorrow?"
He had a dopey smile on his face, tugging his lower lip between his teeth, now his smile turned into a big smirk, "Yes, I think it is fine,"
-
It was 4:25 pm, 5 minutes left for Roger to arrive.
Meanwhile you closed the curtains and turned off the big, bright lights, you only left a dim light from a nightstand, it illuminated enough to see clearly but gave it a much more cozy touch. You also lit the same candles, the room began to fill with a delectable smell but it was not suffocating, just perfect. Next to the armchair table you left a neutral oil for massages. You made sure to postpone the sessions you had for today, you were wondering if this was a mistake, but the reality is that you are doing a favor for a client, you are going to make him feel good, that's all.
The remaining 5 minutes passed very slowly until Roger finally arrived, "Hi there," he grinned.
You analyzed him all at once, those comfortable pants he wore, marking and embracing the contour of his legs, noticing the prominent bulge between his legs, something tells you that this man was already thinking about this situation in advance and that made your heart beat with emotion.
"Come in, make yourself comfortable on the couch," you moved to the side and let him in, locking the door.
Roger came in and sat down just as you said, shifting a bit to find comfort, "Yesterday was rough, my ex-" he started to tell you but you covered his mouth with your hand behind the couch.
"Don't worry, you don't have to talk," your hand exerting pressure while your other hand was sliding to the elastic of his pants, "Not about her," you mumbled, you noticed that he didn't bring boxers, you felt a heat between your legs, "Wanna feel good Rog? wanna be good for me now?"
He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, he nodded and you moved to position yourself between his legs, kneeling in front of him.
When you started to pull his pants down he stopped you, "Kiss me" he sounded needy.
You moved towards his face and your lips crashed into his, it started slow, both mouths moved almost choreographed, he slid his hand behind your neck, increasing the pressure a bit, sinking you into his face, you parted your lips and he slipped his tongue inside, toying with yours, you could hear slight humming coming out of his mouth, it was hot, he was hungry.
You bit his lower lip, a little hard, "Fuck," he groaned, "You are beautiful," he made eye contact, his pupils wide, his blue eyes burning you, making you breath heavily.
You grabbed him with both hands, kissing him, devouring him, you broke the kiss and he almost whined in response, "Already needed?" you said rubbing the bulge of his pants.
He bucked his hips toward your hand, "All your fault," he chuckled with a groan, "Are you going to do something about it?" he caresses the back of your neck but suddenly he tugged at your hair, marking dominance, "Maybe you could put that pretty little mouth to work," his tone was serious.
You bit your lip, you lowered his pants, his cock went flat to his tummy, it was big, and you could feel it throbbing, after a few seconds of admiration you grabbed the bottle of oil, spreading a little on your hands, rubbing them.
Roger followed your every move with his gaze, wetting his lips as he watched as your hand gripped his cock, the oil was warm and it felt nice, the sensation forcing him to relax on the couch.
Your hand began to go up and down, it slipped easily, slick noises already making you wet.
"Oh," he groaned, throwing his head back, your hands quickening the movement, watching his chest going up and down.
It felt good as you massaged him slowly, brushing your thumb over his tip, a bit of precum already coming out, your other hand went to the base of his cock, squeezing a little as you listened to his chocked moans.
"Y/N-fuck," he moaned, the sensation was incredible, "Feels so good," he mumbled, digging his nails into the couch when you increased speed, he closed his eyes.
"Mhmm," you giggled, feeling empowered, "That was what I wanted, watching you relax, all blissful because you are about to cum," you said while toying with him, looking at the sight of him, his cheeks were a bit red because the heat of the room and the candles, slightly oh coming out of his mouth every second.
He’d smile at everything you said, you could tell he was enjoying it, sometimes he tried to thrust his hips against your hand to feel more pleasure, and that's when you slowed down, playing with his pleasure but not making him suffer.
You were growing impatient, feeling the tickle between your legs while you watched him enjoy, this was not on your plans but you couldn't resist much more, you suddenly stopped and he whined, "Fuck me," you blurted, unbuttoning your pants and taking them off with your panties.
His eyes lit up, a smirk quickly formed in his mouth as he watched you undress, "I wanted to fuck you the second i entered to this room the first time," he said grabbing you by your hips.
You jumped over him, straddling his hips, your hands resting behind his neck, both faces inches apart, breathing each other air, heavy gasps coming in and out. Roger gripped your hips, pushing you down so he could graze himself in order to get some relief.
You grinned, wiggling your hips over him, your pussy lips embracing his cock, the oil and your wetness lubricating and facilitating the situation down there, “Please,” he chocked a giggle, “Dont tease,” he shot you a plead look, trying to push you down.
But you resisted, chuckling, “So eager,” you kept your wiggling.
“Well, give me something else to put my attention on,” he chuckled a gasp, taking off your shirt, his eyes droping to your tits, watching your lack of bra, “Now thats what im talking about,” he cupped them with both hands, bringing one nipple to his mouth, twisting it with his tongue.
You gasped, pushing your tits out.
He glanced at you, pleased with himself, “Oh you like it?” he circled both nipples with his thumbs, watching you squirm under his touch.
You started to look for the tip of his cock, you wanted to sink down so bad.
He hummed a giggle, “Eager?” he bit your nipple softly, happy with your whining.
“Fuck Roger,” you finally found it, sinking down on his cock, “Oh- god,” you closed your eyes.
He erupted a groan so loud that you clenched around him, “Yes- please mov- move now,” he demanded, his hands returned to your hips.
You started to jump, feeling full all of sudden, your tits bouncing in front of his face, “Fuck- this is bloody amazing,” he moaned, his hands timing your jumps, eyes fixed on your tits, “Touch yourself,”
You brought your hands to your tits, squeezing so hard, “Please, Rog,”
“Let me enjoy th-this,” he moaned, grabbing the bottle of oil, spilling a little on your naked body, the warmth embracing your skin. His hands began to wander around your neck, your tits, going through your chest until they covered your entire waist and squeezing your ass. The way his hands slid easily through the oil was arousingly hot.
You tugged at his hair, trying to relieve yourself.
He found you lovely, your skin shined because of the liquid, pretty moans coming out of your throat, watching his cock appearing and disappearing. When he wanted to realize his legs were already shaking, his orgasm approaching, you were jumping frantically.
“Fuck- Y/N, im coming-“
You took him by his neck, pushing him against the couch, your other hand finding your clit, rubbing as fast as if your life depended on it, “Oh- oh, so close,”
He was gasping, biting his lip, closing his eyes as your orgasm hit you like a train. As your climax faded, your movements began to slow, returning to stillness, moaning and clenching, riding through your orgasm.
He stayed you still as you were clenching, it seemed to help him reach the peak of his pleasure, moaning and shooting his load of cum inside you, panting like an animal. “Jesus Y/N,” he chuckled, fighting for air.
You laughed, “How you feel now,” you said while you brushed some baby hairs from his forehead.
His smile was wide, “So good,” he swallowed hard, “So fucking good,”
You patted his chest, trying to get out and come back to your feet but he tugged you down again.
He looked at you, “Can we stay like this for a bit,” his soft voice touching your heart, “Feels nice,” he was drawing abstract patterns in your back.
How could you say no?
“Yeah,” you sighed contently, giving him a quick kiss and hugging him around his neck as he closed his eyes, he started to give you lazy kisses over your shoulder.
“Cup of tea after this?” you mumbled, offering.
He chuckled, “You are godsend,”
Masterlist
#roger taylor#roger x reader#fic#smut#smutty#requests open#queen band#request#roger meddows taylor#my writing#fluff#fluffy#my prompts#so cute#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor x y/n
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Protector, Warren Worthington iii
Word Count: 4.5k~
I had been best friends with Warren ever since I met him.
Throughout our years in school, Warren and I had always stuck by each other's side. We hung out together, ate lunch with each other, and nearly forgot about all those people around us who would point out his wings to hurt him. It was like we were in our own little world, and in a way, we were.
We met in the second grade while our class was in the library. While looking for a book, I found Warren, huddled up behind a bookshelf in the elementary school library. He was red in the face and crying as he held his knees close to him. Instantly, I noticed his wings, of course - how could I not?
However, this didn't stop me from going up and asking him what was wrong. I can still remember the way his curls bounced against his scalp as he turned his attention away from his lap and up to me, quickly wiping away his tears to cover up his emotions. Despite being so young, he knew how to expertly do this as he pretended that nothing was wrong and he wasn't crying merely thirty seconds ago.
"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting beside him. I saw him tense up, his back straightening up as he laid his legs out in front of him instead of hugging them to his chest.
"Nothing," He instantly answered me, once again, pretending as if everything wasn't as it seemed.
Instead of saying anything more, I let the boldness I had as an eight-year-old takeover and pulled him into my arms, his figure becoming even tenser. Although, he didn't pull away, and instead, just stayed in that position until I spoke up.
"The kids are mean to me too," I told him, his breath catching in his throat. "And they shouldn't be because you seem pretty cool," I explained with a smile as he turned his eyes up to look at me again. "No one else here has wings, and they're really pretty."
From then on, we were practically inseparable. We weren't seen without each other, and despite bullies picking on us, we didn't let their words bother us. Even as we got older, nothing changed, and in spite of living in an expensive house with nearly triple the amount of space that my house was, Warren chose to stay at my place most nights. His parents didn't care about what he did, and my parents were more than happy to have him over.
When we reached high school, our friendship turned into an actual relationship between two lovebirds (no pun intended). Now we really were inseparable.
However, this changed one night when he went out to grab something from the store. I was sick, and needed medicine; so, being the thoughtful boyfriend he was, he decided he would go out and get some. I guess we underestimated how much mutants were hated in the area as Warren never came back.
Now it's been three months since he disappeared.
Every night since, I went searching for him, only to return to some hotel or hostel without him. I don't know what came over me tonight though. For all my life, I've always been told to avoid putting myself in dangerous settings, and yet, all of those lessons were cast away as I heard people screaming and hollering down an empty and dark alleyway while in Munich. My searching had taken me far away from home, but I wasn't going to stop until I found Warren.
Following the sounds of excitement and fury, I found a hidden door that led to what seemed to be a fighting ring. People surround the caged area, but I push through them, ignoring their waving arms with money held high. I stop at the metal fence separating the people from the ring, only to gasp in horror as my eyes fall over the white, fluffy wings I've loved for many years.
"Warren..." I hear his name being whispered through my lips, tears forming in my eyes as I look at his hurt and pained figure. Fighting for his life against another mutant, he spits blood from his mouth as he wipes away the blood forming on the cut across his cheek. The tattered t-shirt he wears, the same thing he wore the night he disappeared, barely hangs onto his shoulders by a few strips of fabric, the band emblem on the front no longer being recognizable. His arms have fresh bruises forming all along the skin while fading bruises covers the visible parts of torso. How the hell did he get here?
Too shocked to move, I watch as Warren throws a punch at the other mutant, only to hit the fence in front of him, the silver eliciting sparks as soon as Warren touches it. "Shit!" He yells while the blue mutant seemingly teleports to different parts of the cage, only to receive the same treatment as Warren did. Hearing his voice after so long makes me nearly choke on the air in my throat, the tears now falling freely. Seeing Warren makes me want to rip through the fence and save him, but seeing that the metal fence is electric, I can't simply do that.
Blinking the oncoming tears away, I glance in every corner of the underground hideaway and try to find something that might resemble a control panel. It isn't until I see a switch box on what seems to be a surveying floor that I begin running to it, successfully climbing up the steps to the higher level and stopping in front of it. Gazing back to the fighting ring, I see Warren shouting at the dodging mutant while people standing around the cage yell out vile words of hate and absolute greed.
"Warren!" I shout his name as loud as I can, placing my hand on the handle to the electrical switch. Instantly, his head darts toward the voice calling his name, every inch of his being relaxing once he sees me. I smile at him before nodding, his eyes following my hand as it begins pushing the handle downward. Just before the electricity goes out, I see Warren's dirty wings perk up just as the entire underground arena goes pitch black.
In the darkness, the people's screams die down while the clinging sound of the fence being ripped apart follows it. Mere seconds pass before I familiar arms wrap around me and tug me close to their body, Warren's wings flapping rapidly as he lifts us into the air and to the hidden door I entered through. Once we're outside, we quickly run as far as we can before stopping in another alley, far away from the other one.
As soon as we stop, Warren wraps his arms around me and pulls me close to him, his lips immediately attaching to mine in a fervent and much-needed kiss. His hand on my waist never falters in its hold on me, and instead, it squeezes the flesh there as if he were testing if I was real or not.
"I'm here," I tell him, sliding my hands down his face as endless tears fall from his cheeks and onto my hands. Staring into his tear-filled eyes, I can't help but cry tears of happiness as well. "I'm right here."
Nodding, Warren folds his wings behind him, slightly wincing at the pain of them conforming against his back. "Fucking hell," He mutters, placing his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. A few seconds pass of him just holding me before he kisses me once more. "I've missed you so fucking much."
Our sweet reunion is cut short by a black vehicle slamming on their brakes at the end of the alleyway. "Warren," I say his name, concerned at the sight in front of us. Warren turns around, only for his wings to burst out again, shielding me from seeing anything. Peeking under one of the long feathers, I see two men leave the vehicle before one of them points at Warren.
"That's him!" The man yells, "Get him!"
In an instant, Warren swings around and wraps his arms and wings around me, protecting me from the flurry of oncoming bullets. What appears to be eight shots sounds throughout the alley before the same car speeds off again as Warren begins to topple over. Was he shot?
Trying to catch him before he falls on his face, I wrap my arms around Warren and hold him up for a few seconds, only for his size to take over mine and fall to the side. Landing on his back with me on top of him, Warren waves his hand at me while shaking his head, his eyes shut. "I'm fine," He mutters, his voice now suddenly tired and drained.
Eyes wide and concerned, I turn him onto his side and look over him to see blood pouring from his wings. Between the layers of feathers, I find what seems to be four bullet wounds, causing me to practically lose it as the crimson liquid touches my hands. "No, no, no, no, no," I mutter uncontrollably as I place him onto his back. "Warren, Warren," I repeat his name, running my hand against the side of his face, his own blood smearing across his flawless cheek. "Warren, don't go to sleep!"
At my heartbroken plea, Warren opens his eyes, frowning at the sight of tears pouring from my eyes. "Don't cry, my love," He begs, his voice even weaker than before. He lifts a hand to my face, doing the same to me just as I had done to him. I quickly place my hand over his, holding it there as I feel the warmth in his skin begin slowly leaving it. "I... I love you..." He whispers, his eyes closing once again.
Just like a few seconds ago, I feel every ounce of sanity leave me as I watch the love of life wither away in front of me. "Warren, don't do this to me!" I shout, the tears now falling like a waterfall. I could barely manage not seeing him for the three hellish months when he was missing - I can't live the rest of my life without him.
"Warren!" I scream his name again, utter desperation being the only recognizable thing in my voice. Releasing a sob, I push my head against his chest and hear his still-beating heart. However, I know that if I don't get him to a hospital within the next few seconds, his heart won't continue beating like that. But what hospital will even help us?
"Ma'am?" I hear a woman's soft voice coming from the end of the alley, causing me to jerk my head up and see a blonde woman standing twenty feet away. Concerned, she walks closer to me before kneeling beside Warren and me, the knees of her pants becoming stained with his spilled blood on the alley ground. His wings are the first things that catch her focus, making me want to hold him closer.
"Please, don't hurt him," I beg her, my hand holding his hand a bit tighter. "He-he's a-" The woman cuts me off.
"He's a mutant," She points out, looking over at me. Still crying, I nod once, watching as a small smile appears on her face. Within a short second, the fair skin she once had transforms into blue flesh with darker blue scales, her eyes turning yellow and green while her hair changes into a much brighter orange/red.
"It's okay," She assures me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I am too, and I can help."
Her words, not to mention her sudden change of looks, shock me, but I nod at her, ready to do anything this woman says if it means saving Warren.
"Where's his family?" She asks me, her hand remaining on my shoulder as she kneels on the ground beside me.
"Me," I quickly answer her, tears still falling from my eyes. "I am his family."
"You're not a mutant," She points out, shaking her head with squinted eyes as she looks at me a bit confused. "And you care for him?"
"He's my best friend, the love of my life..." I answer her, my heart clenching as the words leave my lips. "Please, you have to help us!"
The woman nods, giving me a small, encouraging smile. "Kurt!" She abruptly yells, a teenage boy with blue skin and carvings appearing behind her with a blue puff of smoke following. I instantly recognize him as the other mutant in the pin with Warren earlier, and in spite of this, he doesn't try to get back at Warren while he's down.
Pulling his hand to get closer, she makes him get on our level before wrapping his arm around her and me. The stranger, Kurt, then wraps his other arm around Warren's almost lifeless body and tugs him a bit closer as well. "Get us all to the mansion nurse's ward - now!"
With the woman's last words, Kurt somehow does so, causing us to suddenly be in a nurse's station only a second later. This all confuses the living hell out of me, but with Kurt having a tail and red eyes, and not to mention blue skin like the lady, I don't know if I should be questioning the normalcy of anything at the moment.
Immediately, three scrubbed nurses rush up to where we are and pick Warren up from the ground. "He was shot, multiple times," The blue woman quickly explains, standing up from the ground. "He'll need blood, and you need to act quick."
Listening to her, the three nurses nod before taking an unconscious Warren back to what I could guess is surgery. Numb, I sit on the cold tile floor as I reach my blood-covered hands up to cross my arms and hold myself, my eyes stuck on the swinging doors that Warren was just carried through. Beside me is Kurt as he places a consoling hand on my shoulder, giving me a small smile.
"He vill be alright," Kurt assures me, his words helping me out a little. Giving him a small nod of my head, I take his held-out hand and stand up with him. "That is Raven, by the way," He adds as the woman from before moves to stand in front of me, taking my hand in hers despite it stained crimson.
"This is the Xavier mansion," She explains to me, "You're safe; we won't hurt you."
At her words, I nod. "I know," I tell her, giving her a small smile. "I trust you."
Smiling back at me, Mystique's eyes flicker behind me before her mouth slightly parts, her hand holding mine slightly faltering. "Who is this, Raven?" I hear a soft British voice speak up, causing me to slowly turn around and see a man in a wheelchair now in front of me. His eyes quickly catch my blood-covered hands and arms, shock taking over him. "Dear heavens, what happened to you, dear?"
I go to answer him, but my voice defeats me in doing so. Instead, Mystique speaks for me. "Charles, her and a fellow mutant were shot at in an alleyway when Kurt and I were passing by. He has wings, that's where most of the bullets hit him," She explains to him, "She has no ill will toward any of us - she just wants her boyfriend to survive."
A few seconds pass before the man, Charles, nods, staring at me with a frown. "I'm sorry to hear that, love," He tells me, giving me a single nod. "Raven, help her get cleaned up and fetch some fresh clothes for her as well," With that, Charles wheels himself out of the room and into the hallway where he enters the room at the end.
In a puff of blue smoke, Kurt leaves Mystique and me, letting us head to what I presume is her room where she wets a washcloth and begins rubbing the drying blood from my arms. "He will be alright," She tells me, saying Kurt's exact words from moments ago. "Trust me."
I nod at her words, but I can't believe them myself. What if Warren isn't okay? What if one of the bullets when through his spine and he's now paralyzed? I couldn't see all of his wounds so I don't know where they all hit him, minus the few I could see in his wings. What if the nurses and doctors can't do anything and he dies on the table? I can't bear to lose him - not again.
With my arms their original (s/c) color, I change into a pair of pajama pants and matching top with a school emblem given to me by Raven before walking with her to Charles' office. Stopping in front of his desk, Mystique and I watch as the man from earlier sits at his desk with his attention stuck on the novel stuck in his hands. However, it doesn't take long for him to notice our presence and put the book down with his glasses following.
"(Y/n), is it?" Charles asks me, turning his attention up to me. Surprised, I hesitantly nod as he speaks up once more. "No need to worry, dear," He assures me with a smile despite my caution. "I'm able to read minds and communicate through them as well," Charles further explains. "Raven and I were talking while she helped you with your arms and hands,"
"I understand you've been through a lot in the past hour, so I won't force you to talk about it," Charles tells me, making me let out a small sigh of relief. "But I am a bit concerned over the fact that you were in such a predicament that your partner was shot," Holding his hand out, Charles waits for me to place my hand in his. "I won't scour through your brain and look at everything you've ever seen or done - I just want to see what all transpired tonight."
Hesitating, I bite my lip in thought before shakily putting my hand in Charles, his touch being warm and welcoming. I feel as Charles does what he told me he would do, the images of the past month flashing before my eyes. Warren's disappearance, me finding him, and helping him get out are all shown before me like a home movie shot from my perspective. Because of this, I gasp a little, shocked at Charles' ability to do such a thing.
Slowly slipping his hand from mine, Charles' eyebrows furrow in thought before flashing his eyes up to mine, confusion written all over them. "You're a human with no powers or anything," He points out, slightly pausing in his words. "And yet, you've always loved a mutant?"
His words come out as a question, but to me, they're a true statement. I love Warren - I always have - and nothing about him will ever change that. "He's human just as I am," I tell Charles, giving him a small smile. "but, with wings," I further add, my smile growing sad as I lightly shrug. "How could I not love my angel?"
My words washing over him, Charles smiles back. "I like you," He tells me, Raven putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Your friend, I think he'll pull through. After all, he has a great incentive."
Because of Charles' words, I smile and give him a nod of thanks just as a question rises to my mind. "What... what is this place?" I ask, gesturing to the overall building. I know it has to be an establishment of some sort going by the built-in medical wing and wide hallways.
"This," Charles states, pointing his finger to the ceiling while his eyes remain on mine. "Is Xavier's a school for gifted youngsters," He informs me before nodding his head once. "This is a school specialized for children with mutations such as Warren, or Kurt, whom you met earlier."
Furrowing my eyebrows together, another question comes to mind. "Why have I never heard of this place before?" I ask, receiving a small smile.
"We're a relatively small school," Charles simply explains, "Ultimately, if your boyfriend would want to join, he could - now, you're not a mutant, but the unique and understanding attitude you give off, I'm sure we could work something out for you too."
His words make my cheeks turn pink in response to the compliment as I thank him, turning my eyes toward the ground as I try to fight the ever-growing smile on my lips. Just as I do this, I see Charles put a hand to his forehead as his eyebrows furrow before looking over at Mystique with a smile. "Raven, take her back to the medical ward," he tells the fiery-haired woman. "It seems that her friend was easily operable and now they're just waiting for him to wake up."
Almost immediately, I turn and follow Mystique out of the room with my pace just a little faster than hers. Soon enough, we walk through the doors and directly to the beds where only one of them is occupied, and the sleeping body in it is Warren's. The window behind him shines down on him with the bright and early morning sun highlighting his now washed and pure white wings that lie behind him. The sight is a complete contrast to what I saw only an hour ago with the almost black sky darkening everything around us and only emphasizing the dirt and grime that covered Warren's perfect wings.
"We told you he'd be okay," I hear Mystique's gentle voice beside me say, causing me to nod with an onrush of tears rising in my eyes. They were right, and my Warren is okay.
Moving closer to him, I sit beside Warren on the bed and take his hand in mine, his unconscious body unresponsive toward my touch and his perfect face never changing. "I'll let you two be alone," Mystique speaks up before doing as she says and walking back toward the door. Once I hear the swinging door shut, the tears residing in my eyes quickly fall over the barrier and down my face as I try to hold in my sobs.
When you love someone, you never want to see them in pain or hurting, and when they're laid up in a hospital bed with consciousness being a waiting game, it hurts you. It physically hurts you to the point where your chest feels heavy with dread, and your stomach feels sick with worry. It's terrible, and I wish there was something I could've done to protect Warren from getting shot.
"I'm so sorry," I sob, turning my eyes away from him and toward the floor. Raising my free hand to cover my mouth as the sobs tumble out, I don't notice Warren's hand gently squeezing mine until I feel the bed beneath me slightly moves.
Immediately looking back over to him, I see his eyes flutter open and quickly dart to me, confusion taking over his tired face as soon as he sees my crying form. "Why..." Warren slowly starts speaking, his voice raspy and scratchy with sleep. "Why are you crying, love?" He finishes his question, now trying to sit up.
"No, no, baby," I usher him to continue lying flat, moving to stand on my knee on the side of his bed before pushing his shoulders back down onto the mattress. Despite this, he still doesn't listen and moves to wrap his arms around me before pulling me fully onto the bed and holding me to his chest. Finally, Warren does lie back down, but in a matter of seconds, his wings are fluttering around me like any other time I'd be on top of him. My eyes quickly catch sight of the now bandaged wounds, and now that I get a better look, I see that there was one more bullet-wound than I initially thought. "Warren, your stitches!"
"It's okay, love," He sleepily responds, leaning his head back to look up at me with a happy face. "I'm so damn happy to see you," Warren confesses, his eyes gazing over me as if I were a precious gem.
If it weren't for the nurses cleaning the dirt from his face and body, I wouldn't have been able to assess the full damage the fighting ring did to him. Above his left eye is a healing bruise that covers a majority of the side of his forehead, and his bottom lip is split, making it swollen. On top of all of that, his green eyes are sunken in and practically taken over by dark circles.
Still, he continues staring at me, acting as if nothing is bothering him until a look of confusion fall over his face. "Now, are you going to tell me why you were crying?" Warren repeats his question from earlier, making me shake my head as more tears rise to my eyes.
"You almost died, Warren," I inform him, his face still unchanging. "I've been without you for three damn months, and the night I get you back, I almost lost you again - for good!" I add on, raising a hand to wipe away my fast-falling tears.
However, Warren beats me to it and places his hands against my cheeks where he gently holds me, his face now soft. I guess he hasn't assessed the severity of the situation. That, or he hasn't taken the time to fully realize that he has stitched-up bullet wounds adorning his wings.
"I'm sorry," Warren apologizes after a few seconds of silence. Despite expecting those two words, it still doesn't hit me any easier as I'm sobbing once again, this time, into Warren's chest.
Holding me close, Warren waits a few moments before moving his hands back to my face and turning me to look at him directly. As soon as he gets the chance, Warren places his rough lips on top of mine, the skin chapped from the harsh things he's been put through. Despite crying moments ago, my tears ultimately stop as I come to the realization of how much I've missed the feeling of Warren's lips on mine. Chapped or not, his lips are the pure definition of Heaven, and when they're on top of mine, it's like pure ecstasy.
Pulling away for air, I pant above Warren as he does the same, his hands now sliding down to grip my waist once again. "I love you," He tells me, "And I've missed you- God, how I've missed you," Warren adds, shaking his head as a small, almost unnoticeable tear falls down his cheek. "Each day was hell without you, and I can't be without you, not again."
Smiling at him, I lean down once more and peck his soft cheek before nuzzling my head next to his on the pillow, his hold on me never changing in the slightest. "You won't have to, Angel," I tell him, watching his lips quirk up in a smile at my nickname for him. Deciding on leaving the explanation of where we're at for later, I close my eyes alongside Warren and fall asleep, finally able to relax knowing he and I can be together with no one to stop or hurt us.
#ben hardy#ben hardy imagine#ben hardy imagines#ben hardy x reader#ben hardy fanfic#ben jones#ben hardy x fem reader#ben hardy fluff#roger taylor imagines#roger taylor imagine#roger taylor fanfiction#roger taylor fanfic#roger taylor#warren worthington x reader#warren worthington iii imagines#warren worthington imagine#warren worthington imagines#warren worthington iii imagine#warren worthington iii
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Hey sunshine! Could i get 📮DITCH THE WHOLE SCENE- send me a character and any option from my request guidelines and I'll write a baby blurb/dialogue for..
With Chris maybe where reader has a caffeine induced migraine because her tiny 5’0 body can’t take too much and because she brought a new coffee machine she’s a little too obsessed, and we’ll just say it causes a very hyper active reader with a raging headache 😭
definitely not me right now..
CATCH ME | S.R.
word count: 0.6k
warnings: bby I don't write for chris on here so I did actor!steve instead, age gap because it's me, migraines - haven't written for steve in a while, not sure this is some of my best kdsjds
Steve was sure he tucked you into bed a few minutes ago, you weren't all that pleased that he insisted on cleaning the kitchen all alone but he was always playing police when your migraines came to pay a visit. So, when he heard the clinking of the spoon against the mug as you pattered into the living room he was surprised, to say the least.
You pretended not to see him yet, eyes stuck to the bottom of your empty coffee mug as his followed your every move. Your head was still pounding, so you were very lucky that Steve preferred the house a little darker at night, but the caffeine rushing through your veins wasn't doing your busy mind any favours.
"Sweetheart," it was the sweetest sound, you determined, his soft little pet name sounding even softer when filled with so much care. You turned around to look at him, managing the purest little hum, eyes large despite your pain as your fingers drummed soundlessly over the outside of the mug. "You should be in bed," he cooed looking the perfect domestic sight while folding up the drying cloth and abandoning it next to the sink, socked feet sliding over the cold tiles to get to you.
"I can't," you breathed and offered your hand as a reason, the lovely smell of the little droplets of coffee letting him know just what was to blame for your current state. "My brain is awake," you explained further and he couldn't help a small smile, nodding lightly in understanding before placing the mug clad in his face on the display table.
"Coffee at night, huh," he began and you were prepared to be reprimanded, surrendering simply because his hands found a place to settle on your waist, squeezing lightly as he took his time to rake his eyes over you. "Thought we talked about that."
"We did," you agreed and your hands were just a little too eager as they grabbed at his arms, making him sigh lightly, not upset at all, amused more like, it was hard not to be but he was trying really hard to focus on getting you to settle down. "But it's so good Steve, there are so many different types and flavors and don't even get me started on the little espresso cups, you know they're too cute to resist."
"Baby," his reprimand was even more amused this time around, much less serious and it made you smile, and giggle even despite the strain it put on your head. "Did you drink your meds?" he knew that he put them in your hands with a glass of water before he had to pick up a call from his agent and now he realized that it gave you the perfect chance to make yourself that coffee. "Thought so, okay, let's get you back to bed."
"Steve," you began and he wanted to kiss the pout from your lips, the little steps you took away from him made it very clear that this was going to be no easy task. "I really don't want to go to sleep," you wasted no time sprinting across the living room, your own socked feet making it much easier to move around as you giggled, pausing to close your eyes for a second, willing the pain to settle long enough for you to get your way. Steve sighed, arms folding over his chest in familiar worry as he looked you over, waiting patiently for you to open your eyes again.
"What am I going to do with you, trouble?" you giggled again, softer this time as your restraint was fading but still you leaned your elbows onto the back of the couch and shrugged.
"You need to catch me, silly," and he did, after a rather short-lived chase around his apartment and many grumbled comments from you as he lead you right back to bed, making sure to steal as many kisses as possible as he tucked you in once again. He made sure to watch you swallow the pain meds before turning off the bedroom light and crawling into bed right next to you, all objection fading from your system when you sighed in satisfaction in his arms.
#steve rogers#actor!steve rogers#dilf!steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x yn#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers blurb#steve rogers drabble#steve rogers one shot#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfiction#monique's 22 (taylor's version) celebration#monique's writing events
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Back to the old house - Roger Taylor :)
Warnings: kissing, swearing, little angst, not proofread
Parings: Roger Taylor x Reader
Notes: just a cute little fluff, my queen obsession is coming back :)
Word count: 2.2k
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“Are you sure you have everything?” Your roommate Harmony asked once again, “Yes, I’m sure I do,” you said nodding your head and packing your last bag. “You better, because if you call me and ask me to bring you something,-“ “I owe you twenty bucks, I know,” you said, knowing the promise you made her. She smiled at you and nodded, walking out of your room.
You were going on a ten hour road trip, TEN HOURS! it was gonna be a fun, yet painful ride. But, you couldn’t refuse. John was practically on his knees begging for you to come, he was your best friend, and you couldn’t say no to him. It was his birthday soon as-well, and they were doing a couple shows up in Las Vegas, so of course you had to tag along.
You tried to convince him to let you meet him there, so you wouldn’t have to sit in a vehicle with the other members of the band for ten hours. Actually, so you wouldn’t have to sit in a vehicle with Roger for ten hours.
He was probably one of the most gorgeous men you have ever met, but also the most annoying, nerve racking, eye rolling playboy you’ve ever met in your entire life. He knew how to get your last nerve to just snap, and you hated it, absolutely hated it, you also hated the fact that you were secretly totally head over heels for the guy, in love.
But sometimes you just wanted to punch his face in, or just knee him in the balls. And then, other times, you wanted to kiss him and just confess everything to him. You didn’t know which one you wanted more, you thought it was punching and kicking him, but you could never tell.
You sat out the front of your house, on top of one of your three suitcases. Tapping your foot, waiting for the slightly large blue van to pull up, you wore a comfortable outfit considering the long drive, but truthfully you made sure it was just a tad bit revealing. You wanted to gain Rogers attention, maybe to get at him, or maybe just feeling praised by a gorgeous man made you feel confident.
You heard music blaring, and a loud engine to pare with it. You looked up from your book to see the nice blue van, you watched as Brain opened the door for you and crawled out a bit, while John jumped out and helped with your things.
“Hey boys,” you smiled standing up, grabbing one of your suitcases while John grabbed the other two, you peaked in the van to see Roger sitting in the back, an empty seat next to him. You turned to John immediately, “Don’t tell me I’m sitting next to Roger,” you groaned, “Yeah, I’m sorry,” John said with a half smile.
“Why can’t Brian sit next to him!” You exclaimed, “I can hear you,” Roger called out, “Good,” you snapped at him not looking at him, “Im not sitting next to him for ten hours,” Brain said slightly leaning over, facing Roger who flipped him off.
“Plus, me and Brian have some stuff we need to work on, and it’s just, easier,” John stated, giving you a half good reason as to why, you rolled your eyes, knowing nobody was gonna even consider swapping with you, “this is gonna be a long ten hours,” you groaned hoping in next to Roger.
“Trust me princess, I’m not happy about it either,” Roger groaned and moved over a bit, “Don’t call me that,” you scoffed back at him, feeling butterflies at the nickname, but brushing them away pretended to be disgusted by the name.
“Do you have to practice right now?” Brain asked Roger, who had his drumsticks up in the air tapping on the seat that Brian was sitting in, “Yeah, I do,” he said continuing, “Seriously Rog, it’s annoying,” you stated trying to grab the sticks, where he just moved away.
“You’ve never called me Rog before,” He stated holding the sticks behind his head, you scoffed and continued to try and grab them, knowing if you didn’t he would just continue, “Give them!” You said; there was no seatbelt in the back so you easily tried to crawl over him to get them, “No,” he said with a small laugh, finding your behaviour amusing.
You finally grabbed the sticks out of his hands, and when you did you actually realised where you were, you were straddled on top of Roger, you looked down at him with pure shock as his giggle faded, slowly smirking, you scoffed and crawled off of him.
Sitting next to him once again a soft blush on your face, throwing the drum sticks next to John, far away from the annoying, childish, handsome guy sitting next to you. Still, another nine and half hours to go.
“Can you move,” Roger said slightly kicking your foot, you rolled your eyes and kept your legs there, “Move,” he said once again kicking harder, “Asshole,” you kicked up back, “that hurt,” you added onto that, “No it didn’t,” he said, “Yeah it did,” you exclaimed nodding your head, “baby,” he said, “Brat,” you snapped back at him.
“Can you guys not, we are only like nine hours in,” John said turning back, “Mind your business Deacon,” you said to him, agitated by the blonde child, “Can you tell her I need space too,” Roger asked John, John looked down over to see Roger had plenty of room.
“You have plenty of room dickhead,” he scoffed looking at Roger, Roger rolled his eyes and shook his head “Your the fucking brat,” Roger said, “At least I’m not fucking my own car,” you said to him, a small laugh coming out of the boys in the front.
“Ay, don’t bring her into this,” Roger said pointing a finger up at you, you laughed a little “Her?” You asked a small laugh, his face going a little red, “Shut up!” He said seriously, but you just couldn’t take it seriously.
“I don’t fuck my car!” He said throwing himself back in his seat, “Then why’d you write a song about it?” You asked looking at him, “because, it’s a hot car,” he said defending himself, “it is a nice car,” Brian leant back and budded in, you looked at Brian with a death stare making him raise his hands and turn around, “what do you do with you car then, make out with it?” You asked mockingly.
“No, I make out in it though, and I fuck in it,” he said with a small smile on his face, “Gross,” you scoffed, “i didn’t need to know that,” you said shaking your head, “Yeah man, to much information,” John said with a disgusted face on, “I’ve sat in that car before!” Brian said, a small laugh escaping me and John after that.
“Sorry!” Roger laughed raising his hands, “you asked princess,” he said, again with that name. “I said don’t call me that!” You snapped at him, a small blush on your face, “Whatever,” he said rolling his head back.
And of course, the ten hour road trip turned into a longer one, because the van broke down and everyone had to stay in a motel for the night, and the only one around was crappy and old, and had three rooms available.
“Seriously John,” you scoffed at him, seeing as he already grabbed a key with Brian. You and him always had sleepover since you guys were little, and he begged you to come. “Sorry, I really have to work on this with Brian,” he said walking off. “Fred,” you called out to him.
“I know you like your beauty sleep, but please I’m begging you, don’t make me share a room with Roger,” you begged, “Sorry sweetheart, maybe you guys can talk it out,” he shrugged walking into his room.
You rolled your eyes turning around, “You have to be joking,” Roger said looking at you, “I wish I was,” you said opening the door to the room, Roger walking in behind you.
Only to see one bed, “Oh for fuck sake,” you groaned, “Fuckin’ hell,” Roger cursed, you sat on the end of the bed, shaking your head. “John owe’s me big time,” you said under your breath, there wasn’t even a pull out couch. Or chair. It was a double bed, a side tables and a small dresser. And next to was a small cramped bathroom.
“Someone definitely shot there brains out in there,” Roger said walking out of it, referring the stained bathtub. “I’ll just take the floor,” you said grabbing a pillow, “No, I will,” he said, was he being a gentlemen for once? “There’s probably more bed bugs in the bed then there are cockroaches on the floor,” He said setting himself up, you rolled your eyes at his meaning.
“It’s not even carpet Rog, don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed, “You were planning on sleeping on the floor,” he stated, “Yeah, but I wasn’t planning on sleeping,” you said in a ‘duh’ sort of tone, “Just, we’re both adults, sharing a bed won’t be the end of it,” you said trying to sound responsible.
“You just wanna share a bed, don’t ya princess?” He said placing a hand on his hip, a small smile appearing on his face.
Yes, “No,” you scoffed, “it’s just, I’m very empathetic, even for assholes for you,” you said checking the last corner of the bed for bed bugs, “Sure,” he said with a smile. “And I said stop calling me that!” You added onto your sentence.
“You not going to bed yet?” Roger asked getting comfortable, noticing you not getting into bed, “I kind of wanna practice a bit,” you said, “Practice?” He asked, “Guitar,” you said, only John knew you played.
“You play?” He asks, you nodded lightly and grabbed out the smaller portable guitar in your bag, not a full guitar, but not a ukulele either. “I’m uh, I’m working on a piece,” you said, “really?” He asks surprised, slightly sitting up.
“Yeah,” you nodded, “Can I hear it?” He asked, you laughed a little and shook your head “God no, you already hate my voice as is,” you said raising an eyebrow with a small smile, placing the guitar in your hands.
“I don’t, it’s just, annoying sometimes,” he admits, “well so is yours,” you said tuning the guitar properly.
“Let me hear it,” he said a bit softer, making your heart swarm with butterflies at his tone, you look up at him, straight into his gorgeous eyes, that were pleading for you to sing it.
“I haven’t finished it yet,” you started, “I don’t mind, consider me a guide, I’ll be brutally honest,” he said with a smile sitting up, you did need a bit of criticism, “it sounds better with more background, but whatever,” you rolled your eyes and faced down at your guitar.
He softly clapped as you strummed a few cords, starting off the song.
“I would rather not go.. back to the old house,”
“I would rather not go, back to the old house,”
“There’s to many, bad memories,”
“To many memories there,”
“When you cycle by,”
“Here began all my dreams,”
“The saddest thing I’ve ever seen,”
“And you never knew, how much I really liked you, Cause I never even told you, and oh I meant to,”
You sang in a soft, sweet voice, that was slightly deep but not too deep, hitting every cord beautifully.
You looked up to Roger, who looked a little shocked, mouth slightly open, eyes glistening and cheeks a soft shade of red.
“Is it that bad?” You asked with anxiety in your voice, “God no, it’s- it’s beautiful actually,” he said lifting a hand up to scratch the back of his head, feeling awkward at complimenting you.
“Who’s it about?” He then asked, and god did you wanna drown at that question, when you first started, it was supposed to be about your childhood trauma, then it slowly turned into the memories of Roger.
The first time you ever met him, he was on a bike riding around with Brian, being a complete idiot.
You went a light shade of red and looked down, “no one, really,” you shook your head, putting the guitar away.
“Y/n,” he said softly, grabbing your hand, “Who’s it about?” He asked once again, looking you dead in the eye, it was impossible to lie to those eyes, impossible.
“You,” you said very quietly, looking him dead in the eyes, and total embarrassment washing over your face, but that quickly went away when you felt his lips on yours.
You felt his lips move with yours, his hand cupping your cheek, you heard the small guitar drop to the floor but you didn’t care.
You felt so unreal, as if you were being lifted from the ground. Or similar to it.
“I really like you too,” he said as he pulled away, looking into your eyes.
“you do?” You asked, shocked.
“I love you actually,” he corrected himself, “you y/n y/l/n, are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” he stated truthfully, making you a blushing mess.
“I was a douchebag I guess because I didn’t know how else to actually talk to you, stupid and childish I know, but that’s just.. me,” he said shaking his head a bit.
“I love you to Rog,” you said with a small smile, then connecting your lips back together, Freddie was right, you did talk it out, you did more than talk it out.
#Roger Taylor#queen band#bohemian rhapsody#roger taylor x reader#fanfic#fluff#roger taylor queen#y/n#queen
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Woman taken by the wind - Roger Taylor x Fem!reader
Summary: You've taken a liking to a new band and your boyfriend cant help but tease you about your recent infatuation.
Warnings: no swearing, implied sex, mention of oral sex, minor stress, mainly just fluff
Word count: 1.6k
Alone in your apartment, you skip over to the turntable set up in the living room and turn up the volume to fifteen. The recently released sound of ‘Rhiannon’ by Fleetwood Mac blared through your flat. You weren't a fan of the earlier stuff from the band, but with the newest addition of Stevie Nicks and Lindsay Buckingham to the group really brought a new interesting vocal and guitar sound, you couldn’t get enough of it. You heard the track that was playing from the speakers on the radio, and you demanded that Roger pull over the car so you could go get a copy of the album.
Your boyfriend, Roger, wasn't as much of a ‘Fleetwood Mac super fan’ as he so lovingly calls you. He preferred the heavier tracks of Jimi Hendrix, while still liking some of the softer stuff from Dylan and such. He didn’t mind when you played them, though.
You were alone at the moment. Roger was off in the studio with the boys. He suggested you stay home this day so you don't get caught in the middle of their idiotic arguments over if the harmony should be sung with an ‘ah’ sound or an ‘oh’ sound. You had some work to do in the apartment that day, so you were fine with staying home. Your recent purchase was great background noise for your daily chores.
You take a moment to walk over to the turntable again and flip over the record to side B before you continue on with washing the dishes. Swaying your hips to the beat of the song, you sang along to lyrics you were able to figure out. You had most of them memorized after listening to the album a couple of times.
Roger had always loved your dancing. You felt dorky and rarely danced in front of others, but Roger was able to bring that side of you to light. You felt free around him, even if you still felt embarrassed to dance around him.
You dry off the dishes and put them into the cabinet. That was another chore knocked off your list. You were surprisingly productive this afternoon. You often procrastinated by saying you'll do it later or you get too invested in whatever TV show you're watching.
You boogie(Rogers words) out of the kitchen and bend over the dining room table, reaching for the little notepad and checking off ‘wash dishes’ on the list. You had finally finished everything you had to do, and it was only 2 pm. You flip the cardboard cover to the front of the notebook and hook the pen back into the metal coil holding it together.
The way you were dancing almost made you feel like a hippie. You were too engulfed in the booming music that you didn't hear the door of your apartment unlock.
Roger enters the apartment. He could hear the music before he even reached the doorstep. He leans against the entrance frame of the living room, watching as you dance in a pair of short pj shorts and his t-shirt. He loved seeing you wear his clothes.
“Hey, cutie,” Roger says, and you almost jump out of your skin at the sudden sound of his voice. “What- Roger! That's not funny!” you whine. You scramble to the turntable and turn the volume down to three.
Roger laughs at your childish reaction. “I think it's very funny, actually,” he says with a smirk. You feel his strong arms wrap around your waist as your bent over the turntable. “Why are you turning it down, lovie?” he asks as he takes hold of your hand and turns it up to ten.
“Why are you home so early?” you ask, not answering his question about the volume. Roger spins you around, smiling at you as he holds onto you in a waltz-like position. “We decided to stop for today. Too much arguing,” he says. “Is that all?” you ask as you begin swaying in his hold. “And because I missed my girl,” he smiles and gives you a kiss.
You hum against his soft, pillowy lips. “You were only gone for a couple of hours,” you giggle. “Is it so criminal for a man to miss his woman?” Roger laughs. “If so, give me the electric chair,” he says as he spins you around, causing a small yelp of excitement from you. “Not criminal. Maybe needy,” you smirk back.
“You look cute,” he says, laying a kiss on your lips and then your cheek. “Oh, do I?” you ask, and he hums. “Love it when you wear my shirts,” he smiles softly as he toys with the hem of the shirt. “Especially when you wear those tiny shorts,” he adds.
“Why? Because it looks like I’m wearing nothing underneath?” you question.
“Yep,” he grins and spins you again. “Maybe I should send you to the chair,” you joke. “On what charges?” he asks. “Horniness,” you say. Roger's hands slide down your sides, poking at your hips. “Oh, you're not too innocent yourself,” he points out.
You laugh and give him a kiss before pulling yourself from his hold. “Never said I was,”
Roger watches as you walk away from him. “Where do you think you're going?” he asks as he cocks an eyebrow. “Changing the record,” you chuckle. You carefully lift the vinyl from the padded surface and return it to the protective sleeve before you feel Roger's hot breath against your neck.
“You know, I was thinking about you earlier,” he whispers into your ear. You couldn't help but smirk. “What were you thinking?” you ask innocently, still keeping your attention fixed on the neatly organized display of your shared record collection in front of you.
“I was thinking about that little red outfit you wore on my birthday last year,” he says. You laugh under your breath. You had great memory of that night. “Mhm?” you hum, telling him to continue as you feel his hands wrap around your waist. “You had on your favourite red lipstick,” he continues.
“You mean your favourite red lipstick,” you laugh. Roger always loved how you looked in that specific shade of red. He loved when it smudged onto your chin, and when you would leave kiss marks all over his body with the lipstick just to get a rise out of him. “Whatever,” he chuckles.
“And, my head between your thighs,” he whispers. “Roger!” you whine, hitting his hand like a mother disciplining their son for having a potty mouth. Your cheeks were as red as that god-forsaken lipstick. You turn around to face him, putting on a brave face as if your cheeks weren't blaring red. “And you screaming that!” he grinned. It took every ounce of strength in your body not to smack that smirk right off his face.
“You're such a pervert,” you joke. Roger gave you a kiss and laughed. “You keep sleeping with that pervert, so you make up your mind, y/n” he hummed.
“See, and I would ask if you were thinking about me too, but you were probably too focused on your artsy fartsy music,” he teased. You huff and cross your arms, but it was so difficult to stay mad at him when he was staring at you with those big blue eyes. “Hey, baby, don't be so mad. I like your music,” he says as he gives your cheek a kiss. You tighten your lips as you struggle to hide your smile. “There's that smile,” he hums, and you finally let it be seen.
“I hate you,” you mumble through an embarrassed laugh. “Love you, too, babe,” Roger smiles. He wraps his arms around you again as the sound of the second track on The Beatles album ‘Abbey Road’ begins playing. Roger nuzzles his face into your neck and gently kisses it as you sway. “Somewhere in her smile she knows, that I don't need no other lover…” he hums to you softly, and you smile yet again in response.
“How's the album coming?” you ask, and you feel as he shrugs. “Sort of behind schedule, but I much rather spend time with you,” he says. “Oh, Roger. You know I don't like it when you choose me over your work,” you annoyingly say. Roger sighs, and he moves his head from his neck to meet your eyes. “I know, I know. Just, you know, the constant bickering is exhausting,” he confesses.
“I love making music, but now it's just like clockwork now,” he says. He didn't want to admit it, but he had to. “And the record company has us on a strict deadline, it's just… so stressful,”
You hated to see Roger like this. You remember the days when he was so excited to go to the studio and work on the albums. But now, every day he would come home more miserable than the day before.
“I understand,” you tell him, letting your fingers comb through his un-styled mop. “It will get better soon, I’m sure of it,” you say. “Just wait, soon you’ll be on tour, and you get to see the world and perform for thousands of fans!” you smile, hoping that the response from the fans would cheer him up. It did, in part.
Roger hugs you, burring his face in your neck yet again. “Thank you, y/n,” he whispers. The only thing he didn't favour about the tours is that he didn't get to see you. You both understood that it was an important part of his career and that it would get easier with time.
The next track, ‘Maxwells' Silver Hammer’ comes on. This one was a bit funny to you. You both giggle as the lyric “Bang Bang Maxwells’ silver hammer came down upon her head” came.
“You remember that thing you mentioned about the red dress and lipstick…?” you ask, and Roger smirks. “Of course, I do,” he says. “Still in the mood?” you ask. He didn't even have to answer, because the next thing you knew Roger was pulling you down the hall to your bedroom, not even bothering to turn off the record.
#roger taylor#roger meddows taylor#roger taylor fanfic#roger taylor fanfiction#roger taylor fluff#roger taylor fandom#roger taylor x reader
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imagine being roger’s first real girlfriend. the members of the band would be so shocked at seeing him so committed to someone. of course, they would try and piss him off, talking about how much he’s whipped for you. but are they wrong? absolutely not.
this man would do anything for you. you could ask him the entire universe and he would make sure you had it. every time you would walk in the studio, he would leave the drums so fast and come to hug you, while the others complain about finishing the damn song.
you made him softer, sometimes he hated that, but he couldn’t do anything about it. you helped him calm down during one of his famous tantrums and you also made him romantic. he wasn’t the type to cuddle or show too much affection before, since the girls he dated were nothing serious, but now with you it was all different. you had changed him for the better.
#roger taylor imagines#80s music#rock#queen band#70s#70s music#80s#queen#queen fanfiction#roger taylor fanfic#roger taylor#brian may fanfic#freddie mercury fanfic#freddie mercury#brian may#john deacon#john deacon fanfiction#fan fiction#imagines#fluff
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"a hooker? god no!" {part 2!}
you snatched your bag and went to storm away before roger griped your wrist. "wait!, look at me" he said, you slowly turned to face him crossing your arms. "I'm sorry...I would of never done that, its just sometimes violet brings these types of girls over...." roger explained his guilty eyes looking into yours.
you sighed "I- I'm not blaming you its just- when you meet someone you look up to and they think your a hooker, its a bit shocking. I'm just mad- this isn't how I wanted me meeting my favorite band to go".
roger looked down feeling bad. "ill- c'mon, ill make it up to you, I feel bad". "how?" you questioned. "why don't I introduce you to the rest of the band" he smiled as he got up from sitting. "really?!" you chuckled. he nodded his head and you started to follow him.
As he walked to the door where Brian, john and Freddie was in your heart was beating fast. roger turned around once you got to the door. "look, don't be all fangirly, just try and act natural" he said before turning back and placing a hand on the door handle.
Your heart basically skipped a beat when the door was finally open and you saw Freddie mercury himself sipping on what looked to be tea. "ay fred, this is y/n" roger said casually, pointing to you. Freddie smiled "y/n? that's a nice name". "t-thank you" you nervously said. "take a seat" you heard a voice to the left of you. it was Brian. you nodded and sat next to roger.
"try not to be no nervous y/n" roger whispered in you ear. you swallowed hard and nodded. "would you like a coffee or something" Brian asked. "ah, no, thank you, I've already had 3 I think I should stop" you chuckled. "this is my 12th...I think" john laughed who was sitting next to Brian blowing the steam away from his coffee.
as Brian, roger, john and Freddie all made small talk and talked about music roger put his arm around you. As weird as it may be you felt sort of safe, his arm around you, his finger tips touching your arm.
"so y/n, how do you know roger?" Freddie asked. you knew what they probably though, that you were a hooker or stripper. "oh- well I'm not a stripper or a hooker if that's what you want to know" you smirked. Brian, john and Freddie laughed taken back by your response. "well, that's the first girl roger has brought to us that's not a stripper or a hooker" john laughed. roger put his head down in embarrassment.
"no uh- she's my sisters friend" roger nodded and secretly winked at you. "yes- uh-" you nodded playing along. "ah, how have we never met before?" Brian asked. "well- me and his sister-" "Claire" roger coughed. "me and Claire were pen pals, I'm always moving around so we don't see each other in real life..much" you said trying to hold in your laugh. "yes" roger said, trying to hold in his laugh with his hand around his mouth.
"move around? like cities?" Freddie asked. "yes and no" roger said. "I- I lived in.....Italy for a couple of years" you smiled "oh and we cant forget when you moved to japan 2 years ago" roger chuckled rubbing your arm. "oh wow, why do you move around so much?" Brian asked.
"her parents are astronauts" roger blurted out. you couldn't hold in your laughter, you put your head down trying to laugh quietly. "are- are you ok" john asked thinking you were crying. you looked up at roger his face all red wanting to burst with laughter.
you regained your self and put your head back up. "yes, uh, my parents are studying the moon or- yes" you said. roger let out a chuckle too. john, Brian and Freddie were all confused. "what's so funny?" Brian asked. as straight as Brian said that you and roger both bursted with laughter, you both laughed so much you couldn't breath. "fucking astronauts" you hysterically laughed. "I- cant- breath" roger held onto his stomach.
john, Brian and Freddie all looked at each other confused, trying to figure out what was so funny. after you and roger stopped laughing they all furrowed their brows at you. "what's funny" john said.
"nothing, nothing" roger brushed off. you all then started to talk again. you got to ask them all about their lives and they even invited you out for drinks.
#roger taylor smut#roger taylor imagine#roger taylor fan fic#x reader#roger taylor#roger taylor fluff#queen fanfiction#queen fandom#queen band#queen smut
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Hello, I am a big fan of your writing 😄 Could you do a fic where a college aged Roger Taylor and the reader who have been dating for a while and they are waiting on a home pregnancy test? While they wait the reminisce about what they have gone through together and the good times. When the results are ready it's negative and they are relieved. Thank you!
Hi there nonnie! You got it! I will have two endings: one where the test is positive, and one where it is negative.
Per Anon's request, Reader here is a person whose body is able to have children, but because gender is not specified in the request, the reader will be gender neutral and can be read to identify however you would like!
Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! If you like it- reblog or leave a comment!
Warnings: Mentions of sex and some steamy bits but no specifics or details, mentions of drinking and drunkness, discussions of pregnancy, and mentions of abortion. But plenty of fluff!
Word Count: 1K
Link to my Comfort Character Letter and Playlist Etsy Shop
Link to My Ko-Fi for Comfort Character Letters
You reached for the pink kitchen timer in the shape of an egg and twisted it to fifteen minutes. That’s all it would take. That would be the moment of truth. Just fifteen little minutes and you would know for sure.
The timer was placed on the shelf of the sink. Right next to it was a pending pregnancy test. You placed both hands on the counter, looked into the mirror at your own face, and took in a deep breath. You held it, then released.
Watching the little white stick for fifteen minutes would only make you feel worse about the results you did not want yet.
Walking out, you saw Roger on the couch. You told him your period was late. Two days wasn’t much, but it was something. He turned over and looked at you.
“Hey, love,” he greeted.
“Hey,” you responded.
He opened his arms, and you followed him, plopping onto the couch. You nestled your head onto his chest where you felt it’s steady heartbeat. He wrapped both arms around you, one rubbing on your back. Another found a free hand of yours and held it.
“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Mmmph, you’re not the one getting tested.”
“Fair enough.”
He noticed your breaths were quick inhales and sharp exhales through your nose. It was troubling for him to hear such. He could even hear your heart pick up.
“Hey, Y/N...do you remember how we met?” he asked.
You looked up.
“What was it like on your end?” he asked.
“We’ve told this story before…”
“Nah, I’d like to hear It from you…” Roger responded.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You met at a bar. It was dark and there was that odd smell that came with beer- like you could smell bread baking from the wheat that was concocted inside the drink. It was that mixture of bakeries and bars- something delicious was being created to be consumed and enjoyed.
But you could not enjoy that beer in peace. A man who looked far older than you and quite odious slid up to you. He was smiling and trying to get your attention.
“Excise me…I’m just not in the mood tonight. Would you leave me alone, please?” you asked politely.
“What?? Don’t you like a free drink?” he asked, peeved.
You felt your blood run cold when you heard a voice:
“Hey! I’ll get you anything you want, and you leave ‘em alone!”
You turned around to see…maybe not the most handsome man you met, but the most beautiful. You almost dropped your jaw. He had large blue eyes with thick lashes, porcelain skin, and the most beautiful, silky blonde hair you had ever seen. And he was walking up to you. You began to talk for hours and then traded numbers with smiling faces.
Your first kiss was in the rain. Roger had turned oddly romantic. He wanted to go to a museum of great interest to you. There was a special exhibit for only a limited time- a certain painter you adored. He bought you tickets- nice tickets! And this was before the band got off it’s feet too!
You grabbed his hand, ooing and aaaahing at the art. He smiled and admired it. If he thought anything rude about it, he kept it to himself. Even if he might have appeared low brow, he knew beauty when he saw it.
Once you walked out, it began to rain. Howling with laughter from the surprise of cold water splattering on your heads, you took off your jackets and huddled under them, running to the nearest shade you could find. One was a large tree planted in the sidewalk, proving a relief of raindrops. They weren’t a torrent, but manageable small drips every now and then. You both looked at each other, eyes bright from running and hair damp.
“Can I kiss you, Y/N?”
You nodded yes.
You tasted the hamburger he ate for lunch, his tongue collided with yours, but his lips felt soft. On your book, it was a perfect first kiss.
It didn’t stop at kissing of course. The first time you did the deed, it was three days later. You had been studying over at his place. Luckily, he ordered in food, complete with dessert. As you put aside your flashcards, you gave a deep sigh.
“How do you feel, Y/N?”
“Good! I feel good about it!”
“Well then, guess we have time for this then!”
He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you onto his lap. You began to make out. Furiously. And you didn’t want it to stop this time.
As you sat there, you gave him a naughty smile. Then you quickly pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it in the floor. From the quick blinking and half grin, he gave you, he was not going to stop you.
“Rog…Rog I want you…” you said, placing his lovely face in your hands as you began to kiss him again and again.
“I want you…” you trailed down to his neck. You felt his body relax beneath yours “so bad…”
“Have me then…” he said. He unbuttoned his own shirt. Soon you felt the warmth of each other’s bare skin against the others. And it didn’t stop at your shirts.
You were there for every concert you could make it to. You cheered loudly as you could. Despite the numerous groupies with their claws pointed at Roger, he shooed them away. They would give you a glare before moving onto the next band member in sight. None of you minded that much. There were times you goofed off with drinking games and then would dance all night to your favorite songs before wandering to the house.
“Damn…” Roger would say…he reached into the closet and pulled out a bottle of vodka. He got out two shot glasses.
“Rog! It’s five in the morning? And you’re drinking vodka???” you gasped.
“Why else do it? We had an amazing concert and we're celebrating! We’re alive and it’s here, we might as well enjoy it!”
And then sleep until the afternoon when you woke up tangled in each other’s arms but smiling.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As you were warm from thinking of those things there was a “Ding! Ding! Ding!” from the bathroom. The timer went up.
The moment of truth.
“Here it is…” you said nervously.
Roger took your hand and walked you to the bathroom. Shaking, you reached over and looked at the stick.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ending One: Positive-
Two lines. Two clear little pink lines. Roger was next to you; he clutched your hand. The inhale you were taking stopped in your throat. The stick was even moving with you hand. You kept blinking, then you let out a sharp exhale.
“Y/N….my Y/N, what do you think?” he asked.
This was huge. He couldn’t imagine what you were going through in your head.
“Y/N, if you need an abortion, I’ll help you. I’ll play the drums extra hard, I’ll pitch in what I have, I’ll help you to make it happen- we’ll find a clinic that’s safe and then you won’t have to..."
You let out a laugh, tears were already in your eyes, and you shook your head.
“No Roger! No!”
He tilted his head and squinted his blue eyes.
“No?”
“I mean, thank you! It’s kind of you to offer…but no!!!”
You hugged him with both arms, the test still in your hand, dangling off, the two lines staring at Roger. You gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.
“Here’s what…I…I want to keep the baby…”
“Keep it? Then…then this is big, Y/N…but…you’re happy?”
“I am happy! I am happy that I have a part of you with me, always- that there’s going to be a person half you and half me out there in the world! I…I’ve wanted to be pregnant for a while now! And I want to have your baby!”
You relaxed in his arms and melted onto his shoulder.
You let go and he held your hands, pulling you close still.
“Y/N…we will do what we can…I…I never thought a year ago I would say this but…I will be a dad to this baby. I won’t leave you and I won’t leave the kid inside you either! You don’t have to be afraid now- you mean so much to me and if that means taking this on, I won’t mind…"
Outside you heard birds chirping as if celebrating. Roger licked his lips and then frowned, eyes looking down.
"But...I'll try...even if I’m not ready to be a dad…” he confessed.
“Will we ever be ready to be parents?” you asked.
There was a pause. The clock ticked as if in silent reply and outside a car passed by.
“Then…then we’ll raise the baby together.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ending Two: Negative.
There was only one line. There were two sighs. Roger was relieved secretly- no responsibilities. No human life to concern himself about. Y/N blinked and rechecked again and again, and then set it down.
“Well…well then!” you announced.
“Why, Y/N…we might need to celebrate!” Roger suggested.
“I…I think so!”
He went to the kitchen, even though it was still the afternoon, and the sun was shining through the windows.
“Let’s have a drink- it’s something you would have to miss out on! We can throw in some coffee too! And all the stuff you wouldn’t be able to enjoy if you were pregnant!”
Sure enough he brought out the drinks and you were enjoying it. You both held small champagne glasses.
“Part of me…wants to be pregnant. Wants to be a mama. But I…I’m not so sure…”
“It’s a lot of work, Y/N. And…with the band…we’re enjoying what we have…”
“You know…you’re right! I like my life! I like my college and my classes and my friends!"
"No one wants to miss out on those!" Roger commented.
You played with the rim of your cup and looked down, then back up through your lashes at Roger
" Plus, there’s this handsome drummer I’m dating…” you added.
He leaned against the kitchen counter cockily.
“What’s he like?” Roger asked.
“Hilarious. Smart. Talented. Creative. Bold. Fearless. Passionate. Fiery. And best of all…he’s mine…” you praised.
“Same to you, darling.” He replied with a smile that could melt winter.
Taglist: @0x0spunky-monkey0x0 @seraphicmercury @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @queenlover05
#carrie writes#roger taylor#anon request#queen fanfiction#queen imagine#roger taylor x gender neutral! reader#roger taylor x gn! reader#roger taylor x y/n#roger taylor x gn! y/n#Roger taylor x you#roger taylor imagine#roger taylor blurb#roger taylor fluff#roger taylor fanfic#fluff#comfort#classic rock#classic rock fanfiction#classic rock imagine#queen fanfic#queen blurb
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Soon You'll Get Better [Steve Rogers x F!Reader]
Part 1 of My Lover Celebration in honour of the queen, Taylor Swift
Summary :- “You'll get better, you have to”
Warnings :- I don't think i understood the right meaning of this song lol, nurse!reader, Steve is 6'4, kinda angst, insecure!reader, pov's keep switching, it's not good but i tried ig, sudden confessions.
Dividers by :- @firefly-graphics
“The buttons of my coat were tangled in my hair
In doctor's-office-lighting, I didn't tell you I was scared
That was the first time we were there
Holy orange bottles, each night I pray to you
Desperate people find faith, so now I pray to Jesus too”
Captain America was rushed in the hospital wing of the Avengers Compound after a rough mission as Y/n, Dr. Banner's assistant, rushed to him. She analysed him and looked after him till he got better. She'll never admit it but she had a little crush on the handsome 6'4 super soldier.
“I know delusion when I see it in the mirror
You like the nicer nurses, you make the best of a bad deal
I just pretend it isn't real
I'll paint the kitchen neon, I'll brighten up the sky
I know I'll never get it, there's not a day that I won't try”
She knew that he would never love someone like her. Why would anyone? He did try to sweet talk her in his rough voice and it did work, but she'll never admit it. She'll never admit her feelings to him. She knew that he liked those other hot nurses that flirted with him whenever she was gone. Her feelings for him were the secrets she'll never tell anyone. Or so she thought.
“And I hate to make this all about me
But who am I supposed to talk to?
What am I supposed to do
If there's no you?”
“So you like him, he's your patient, he obviously likes you back but you're still crying about him?”, Wanda said as she softly rubbed your back. You nodded, still sniffling. Admit your feelings to him, love. She said that just like everyone else. But she would never do that.
“This won't go back to normal, if it ever was
It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because
'Cause I have to”
“Sweetheart, I'm all better now. I was hoping if I could start going back on missions”, Steve asked you as he looked at you hopefully. You nodded. “Of course, Steve”, you said. You had your back turned to him as you wrote about something. He grabbed your arm and turned you around so that you were chest-to-chest. “Love, you wanna know something?”, he said in a low voice. “Y-yeah?”, you asked him, your voice barely audible to your ears. “I love you”, he whispered in your ear before tucking a strand of your hair behind it. Your whole face was red. “Y-you do?”, you stuttered. He nodded before pouring all his emotions into your first kiss.
"Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better
Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better
Ooh-ah, you'll get better soon
'Cause you have to”
#Steve Rogers x reader#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers x female reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers imagine#Steve Rogers angst#Steve Rogers x y/n#Steve Rogers#captain america fluff#captain america x you#Captain America#Captain America fic#Steve Rogers fic#Lover Celebration#Taylor swift#soon you’ll get better
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Don't grow up, it's a trap - Brian May; Prologue
Pairing: Brian May x Reader
Warning: none
Word: approx 1.3k
main mastetlist | request & ask | prompts
Chapters index
prologue | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part night | part ten | epilogue
If he knew he had grown up this way.
Perhaps it was preferable to be a youngster who knew nothing except eating, playing, and napping.
People beings grow up in many civilizations. Some are born under a lucky star and are unaware that there is a demon named afflictive and wounded existing in this universe. However, certain persons who were raised. No, it should be called 'lived on their own' 一will have a higher level of immunity than others.
That does not imply their goodness. But it was an essential weapon for survival when facing tough times; it was intended just for anybody like him who lived below the poverty line. It kept on threatening his life, shattering every piece of his bone and cruelly smashing them to the ground. Despite being awake, it seemed like a terror nightmare that he couldn't wake up from.
'Brian May' is an uncommon boy. However, it isn't actually noteworthy. It sounds tricky, doesn't it? But that was his life after his parents' disappearance due to debt, while the whole town was during the world war.
The boy recalled the hectic circumstances at home throughout that extended period of time, and how they remained to be that way, over and over. He nearly lost sight of the definition of happiness and the proper way to smile or laugh.
Delicious food was once the thing on each evening dinner table, but that is starting to change. There were just grilled potatoes obtainable lately, and the soup was given as a side dish to enhance the flavour of the tasteless potatoes that had to be consumed all in one bowl, for the whole family.
He heard his parents arguing constantly, and headphones ended up being his best buddy by default. However, that is not nearly as unpleasant as hearing the creditors' relentless pounding on the door, who appear prepared to burst in at any moment if they are serious about it.
Only in the closet could sixteen-year-old Brian give a hug to his younger sister. With her head pressed against his chest, he protected her even though he was conscious that he wouldn't be able to stop the door from breaking in. After their parents made the decision to disappear without a trace since they had creditors pursuing them. From that moment on, Brian's biggest duty towards his younger sister has been to be strong for her, even when it meant leaving only tears on her cheeks.
Yes, he understands that his parents weren't abandoning him or his younger sister. Nevertheless, it seems that things happened this way because they had to leave this environment. Because his parents are unaware of how creditors would make demands for money if they were there. Which was probably worse than the hammering at the house door, which scared the hell out of him and his sister and made them afraid to leave.
A sixteen-year-old boy whose sole pursuits in life are music and education. To continue living his realities, he had to give go of his fantasies. Give up on the band, put the handmade guitar in the cupboard, and start working a part-time job after school.
For a young boy who had never experienced hardship before, he was unsure about what to do with the remaining money and where it would take him and his sister. However, it was lucky that the uncle next door, who was a neighbour, constantly prepared meals for him. And thus, day by day, he and his sister lived.
'Betty May' is still quite young. Brian does not want his younger sister to have to worry about this. But he had no idea what to do. Because additional money is insufficient, he will soon have to pay tuition. He is unlikely to be able to provide for himself and his younger sister financially. However, requesting a loan from a neighbour, like Uncle David, would be excessive.
Brian sensed he was in trouble. However, seeking assistance from others should be done in moderation.
Humans have a tendency to do dumb things when they feel hopeless. Yes, Brian feels this is the case. When he sat looking at the square screen with his hands on the keyboard in a computer lesson, his friend from the computer science department was overjoyed to show him it was a prototype. He looked like he suffered from a lack of sleep while learning how to use with.
The sixteen-year-old boy stared at it for a moment before writing the tragic tales of his own life on a blank page, and thanks to his highest grade at Imperial College, he had the kind privilege of receiving a tiny article published in the newspapers for the entire city of London, which has at least three million readers per day.
Brian couldn't recall what he had written, and he didn't want to. It might be filled with disappointment in life, what he was excellent at, or the whole agony that has been suppressed in his heart. Asking for help in vain and not knowing whether anyone will respond with a boy who has no idea who they are and no interest in life.
But it wasn't too horrible. When God told him to believe in, 'the miracles' one more time.
Not long afterward, the professor contacted him to schedule an appointment. He said that someone had seen his letter in the newspapers and offered to help with schooling and monthly expenditures, even if it was a small amount. So he asked Brian if he still needed lend a hand in helping, because here was his opportunity.
The boy was dumbfounded by what he had heard. He was thinking about hitting himself in the face once to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Is it truly feasible for somebody to reach out and support kids who do not know who they are? Brian sat calmly for quite some time, and his professor was silent, indicating that Brian, his student, wanted to concentrate.
Brian was still half believing and half unbelieving. It wasn't until he received a cheque with credit to cash at the bank, along with a huge shopping bag with a pair of black and light brown suit-and-tie sets and black leather shoes. He noticed a pair of freshly released flower pattern shift dresses for ladies in other bags, as well as maroon Mary-Jane heels, with a short message and charming calligraphy expressing delight in him and Betty, which the tall boy could guess was from whom.
The boy finally discovered the world wasn't all devils around him. Who were these people? How did the benefactors who saved his and his sister's lives appear? The boy was confident that they were angels. The boy vividly recalls the emotion of the first moment; even the corners of his eyes turned blazing red and his younger sister had to hold and soothe him.
Brian returned to see his professor the next day, this time wearing a new pair of gleaming black leather shoes. After staying up all night wondering, 'Why are the benefactors so kind?', he was keen to find out who the wonderful person was who rescued him and his sister from the demon hordes. Why did they decide to help? Because even if the entire world is full of lack of thoroughness, and depth of character and he is much too young to confront it, that person seems not to be concerned whether the message he has written is a falsehood or real.
As his professor consultant was done with some papers, he smiled softly as he informed his student. "Her name is Y/N..."
Brian fails to control himself; he gasps suddenly with his mouth open and barely knows how to breathe, just because he eventually discovered their name, noㅡ her name.
"Miss Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N."
oh hi
#imeternallylove#brian may x reader#brian may#queen#queen band#queenies#roger taylor#brian harold may#bohemian rhapsody#brian may fluff#brian may headcanon#brian may imagine#brian may x female reader#brian may x reader fluff#brian may x you#bohemianbri#freddie mercury#john deacon
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