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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years

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Legs

notyoursneverwas-post said: hello my dear, are your requests open? if so, i have a little idea! 💓 could you write an imagine with reader x roger, where she is a politics student and she's just really into politics and really smart and one time she's with roger at the club, she wants to fight 2 guys, who are very ignorant and just have dumb views on politics and she's like fighting them?? and roger thinks she's adorable and protects here? it would be so AMAZING! i hope you have a great day and thanks for doing all this!💓

(a/n: did a little research for this one, had a night off from work and felt like seeing if i could get this one out tonight. also requests ARE open! Just don’t know how fast they will come out, seeing as I’m back in classes again and my new classes are intensive upper level credits, so the imagines will come out sporadically!! ily! also i figured i should start moving the read more down a bit to give little hints of my work on first glance hehe ok to the imagine)

Your best friend (with a few benefits) Roger was never one to pass up a night out on the town. So, when you hinted at it after a particularly long day of classes, he practically jumped at the offer. You had planned on studying for finals that night, but you needed a drink, and so did he. On top of that, Roger had already been toying with the idea of going out with the boys that night, so you all agreed to go together. Problem was, you were having trouble finding something to wear.

“You’ll be the token woman of the group, it doesn’t matter what you wear!” Roger teased, sitting on the edge of your bed and kicking his feet out as he fell back onto it. He started playing with the buttons on his white shirt, unbuttoning it to the middle, and sighed. “Wear those striped bell bottoms with the white blouse tied up, you’ll have legs for days! Men will be lining up! ”

You rolled your eyes at his flirty undertones, peeking out of your closet for a moment. He was always like this, never had his mind out of the gutter, especially around you. “I’ll smack you silly, Taylor. Keep your mind off my legs!”

“I’m just saying!” he laughed, sitting up and throwing his hands in the air innocently. “It’s a fact!”

You gave him a warning look, then grinned before going back into your closet to find the vertically-striped bell bottoms. “Watch it, mate.” Recently, you’d been trying to fend off his advances until he committed a bit more to going steady with you, and it had been a bit trying for both of you considering you were still close friends.

“Oof,” he said, clutching at his chest dramatically. “So serious, Y/N. If you were any more serious, you’d be a politics major. Oh wait…” he trailed off, grinning at his own stupid joke as you came out of the closet, buttoning up the high-waisted bell bottoms and giving him an eye roll in response. “You took my advice, smart girl!” he cheered, clapping a few times at the outfit while you slipped into your platforms.

“I hate to admit it, but you do give the best fashion advice,” you mumbled, focusing mainly on tying your shirt up at your midriff. You watched yourself in the mirror to do so, and when you were done you glanced over in the mirror to see Roger staring at you in it, a shit-eating grin on his face. You groaned, grabbing your purse and turning to face him. “Come on, you perv. We’ve got to get to the club, the boys will be there soon.”

“Lining up, Y/N!” he proclaimed as he followed you out the door, ignoring your complaints. “They’ll be lining up! And I’ll be the first!”

You didn’t beat the boys to the club, but they weren’t hard to find amongst crowd. In fact, they’d managed to grab a booth before the place had exploded with people. You took a seat between John and Roger after grabbing a pint at the bar, where some people were watching the football match between Brazil and England on a big box TV behind the bar. You’d never cared much for the sport, as the matches seemed long and low-scoring, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“Fashionably late?” John asked, referring to your outfits. Neither you nor Roger had underdressed in the slightest, contrasting with John’s jeans and plain blue button up.

“Even politicians have more sense of style than you, John, does that bother you?” Roger retorted, John waving him off in response and taking another drink of his lager.

“Roger, as much as I enjoy teasing John, I can handle my own witty remarks, thank you,” you said, using a warning tone that made Roger hold up his hands in surrender. You instead struck up a conversation with John about classes, seeing as he was a bit younger than the rest of you but remarkably advanced in his field.

After downing your first pint, you excused yourself from the conversation and went to go get another at the bar, Roger saying he’d be there in a moment and whistling after you when you started to walk away, earning a generous middle finger from you.

You approached the bar, waiting for the bartender to give you your turn, and started to watch the football match on the TV. It seemed uneventful at the moment, one Brazil man you somewhat recognized blurring across the screen a couple times. The men nearby that were watching it booed as he did, both of them seeming upset. At first, you figured they were just England fans, but what one of them spit out next stopped you dead in your tracks.

“Bah! His kind shouldn’t even be allowed on the field, fucking disgusting, it is.” It was enough to make your blood boil as you struggling to ignore them, ordering another pint and gripping the edge of the bar tightly.

“You’re absolutely right, Pelé and his whole squad are disgraces to football. Rigged!”

The bartender took your money, ignoring the men down the bar as well and dutifully getting you another beer as you stared straight ahead, struggling to keep your mouth shut. But then the first man said it. He called him that horrific word, six letters, two syllables, starting with an N. The bartender paused for a moment, then shook their head and handed you the beer. You were far past worrying about the beer, however, and you only grabbed it as a possible weapon as you pushed past people down to where the pair men sat crowded around the TV. Approaching the first one, who’d been the last to speak, you dove right in.

“Hey!” you called out, tapping rather forcefully on his shoulder. He turned around, looking at you up and down and smirking.

“You could have just said excuse me, Legs, I’d scoot over for ya,” he replied lecherously, not sure what to make of your aggressive demeanour despite the fact that he was flirting with you. You gagged for a moment, then sat your beer down on the bar and crossed your arms, not even flinching as he stood up in front of you.

“No, what did I hear you say just now?” you demanded. He looked confused, unaware of what you were referring to.

“Legs?” he asked, giving you a look like you were the stupidest person on this side of the planet.

“No, before that!” you replied, your face heating up as you dared him to say it again. And after a smirk and a glance at Pelé on the screen, he did.

“Is that what you meant?” he clarified, steam practically shooting out of your ears at this point.

“You’ve got a set of balls, haven’t you? You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

The guy, who at this point was looking at his friend as if to say ‘this twit,’ shrugged and put his hands in his pockets, smiling almost creepily. “I suppose I do. What’s it to you, are you one of those crazy slags who’s all about civil rights and women’s liberation?”

You raised an eyebrow at the word slag, resisting the urge to swing at him this very instant. “So what if I am? Let’s see who’s on the right side of history in 30 years, mate. Me, or you and your National Front mates?”

“What’s wrong with the National Front?” the other man challenged, finally speaking up. Standing up as well, he was directly behind his friend’s left shoulder, looking at you like you were the scum of the earth. “At least we’re trying to keep tradition alive and make this place not such a fucking shithole for everyone. You and your lot have gone bonkers, you’re filling the whole country with illegals and colored people,” he said, putting a disgusted emphasis on the last two words.

“Jesus Christ, you’re both mental!” you exclaimed, hardly even believing your ears. “You believe you’re cleaning up the cities, when all you’re doing is oppressing and oppressing and denying people like us basic human rights! I can’t even fucking get birth control without paying out the arse for it-“

“Then don’t have sex,” the first one chimed in, getting a nasty look from you. “No one’s forcing you.”

“Oh really?” you remarked bitterly, crossing your arms again. “You think no National Front muppet has ever forced someone to have sex with them? You’re delusional, mate, seriously. And don’t even get me started on your policies, that’s a completely new field of shit.” Though you didn’t know it, Roger had came up to the bar where you were just moments ago, and was now spectating on your bitter back-and-forth with the two men, smiling a bit. You were such a feisty thing, he found it to be one of his favorite qualities of yours. Although he didn’t find you nearly as intimidating because of how much he knew you, it was endearing and he thought you looked really adorable when you got mad.

“Oh piss off,” the second man groaned, clearly over you already. “You probably haven’t got a fucking clue about politics, you daft cunt.”

“I mean, she’s a political science major, so there’s that,” Roger cut in, his voice appearing behind your right shoulder and almost making you jump. You appreciated his presence, but at the same time, you wanted to tell him that you didn’t need his help. The two men looked at him like he was an alien, but Roger appeared entirely unbothered as he went to stand at your side, nonchalantly putting his hands in his pockets. “What’s the problem here, boys?”

“She’s got all pissy because apparently I said a no-no word,” the first one spit back, not even bothering to size up Roger as he stared straight at you, something like malice in his eyes.

“Well, what’d he say?” Roger inquired, looking at you curiously. He had to smile at how angry you looked. It was, as he noted before, cute, but he decided against pointing that out to you right now. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but be attracted to you, even more so in that moment. And that made him want to protect you even more, so he stepped so that he was at least partially between you and the men.

You crossed your arms even further, nodding towards him, then looking at Roger. “Ask him.”

Roger didn’t even have to ask, because the first man jerked a thumb back at the screen and repeated that horrid word for the third time, smirking. “Brazil’s team is full of ‘em. And your little lady here is about to catch a fucking haymaker if she doesn’t get off my case about it.”

“Jesus,” Roger said under his breath, knowing he needed to get you out of that situation now or it was about to get rough. He thought that one second too late, because you’d already grabbed your beer from the bar, taken a quick drink, then threw it in the first man’s face. Roger cursed loudly and turned quickly, wrapping an arm around your waist and tossing you over his shoulder as you tried to throw hands at the now-soaked man who was still in shock. “You’re something, Y/N!” Roger laughed, hoping that he could get out of the club before you broke free.

“Fucking fascist pigs!” you practically screamed, ignoring Roger completely.

“That’s right, take your stupid cunt of a girlfriend elsewhere, mate!” the man yelled after him, now wiping his face off with a couple of cocktail napkins and spewing all types of slurs and general bullshit at you as you flipped him off with both hands, Roger managing to get you out of the club’s door with some difficulty.

Once you were down the sidewalk a bit, Roger finally sat you down, standing between you and the club’s entrance. You started pacing immediately, ranting as Roger stood there with crossed arms and watched you.

“The fucking nerve of that knobhead! Out in broad daylight, just spewing out that nonsense like he was actually delivering the message of God! I’d like to give him a good fucking smack across the face for that shit, I would! What a complete moron - and then they both have the fucking audacity to tell me that I don’t know a fucking thing about politics! Well, fucking excuse me, I forgot I was supposed to be a dumb slag that cooks and cleans and waits hand and foot on fucking men!”

Roger smirked as he listened to you, admiring how passionately you felt about what had just happened. Also, he found it hard to take your anger seriously, even if you were making valid points. It just made you look even cuter to him, and now was not the right time to give in and ask you out for real.

You slowed down after a minute, sighing raggedly and looking over to Roger, who you found to be smiling. “What’s so funny, Roger?” you complained, looking at him with almost a sad look in your eyes. Roger shrugged, trying to hide his smile as you started to tug at your earlobe anxiously, walking over to him. “I could use a hug,” you pretty much demanded, Roger obliging and pulling you into a warm, firm hug. You buried your face in his shoulder, appreciating that he smelled good tonight, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

After a while of just standing there embracing you, Roger finally cleared his throat. “You know, Y/N, earlier I was pretty set on the legs for days thing, but I think you’ve found a new niche with this “cute when angry” thing.”

You gasped and pulled away as far as he would let you, smacking his chest gently as he laughed at your disgust. “You’ve got some fucking nerve too!” you almost whined, trying to push him away and hide your laughter.

Roger’s laugh was always contagious to you, though, so you couldn’t help but start laughing at him, still trying to wriggle out of his grasp. It was just tight enough to keep you locked in his embrace, and yet you kept fighting. “I’m joking, I’m joking!” Roger exclaimed between fits of laughter, grinning. “You can do both of them, though - now then you’d be a real force!”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me right now, Mr. Taylor,” you remarked, giving him a pointed look as he kept his arms around your waist, an innocent look on his face.

“Well, you should be thankful you’re cute, because you’re actually daft if you don’t know that I am,” he replied quickly, giving you the same pointed look in return. You grinned, shaking your head at him, and he whined playfully, pulling you as close as possible and resting one hand on the bare skin of your side, his thumb rubbing circles just below your ribs. “C’mon, I’ve been flirting with you for ages, don’t be coy with me all of a sudden. And we both know that you’re cute and brilliant, so you can’t be that oblivious.”

Sighing, you wrapped your arms around his neck, deciding you could relent for one night. Besides, you could get all your frustrations at that stupid man out too. “You do have a point.” With that, you leaned in, kissing him lightly, and he kissed back almost immediately, hungry for what he’d been missing since you left him out to dry.

But you weren’t going to let him have the satisfaction quite yet, so you pulled away after gently biting onto his lower lip, tugging a bit before letting go and pulling away completely. Roger groaned as you did so, upset at the loss of contact. “But if you ever step in and try to protect me from Nazi pricks again, I’ll chop your balls off, I swear on it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want that,” Roger chuckled, shaking his head before diving in for another kiss, murmuring against your lips between kisses, “I guess I can live with those terms, love.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #queen imagine

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