#like unbearable without sooo many painkillers

[penisliker-moved]

And i have dentist tmrw

[killerqueenys]

just one more drink||roger taylor x reader||part one

Warning(s): alcoholism

Word count: 2,291

A/N: Hello sooo this is my first go at writing anything so any constructive criticism/notes are appreciated! I’m also really new to tumblr so I have no clue how it works but I’ll be figuring it out along the way I suppose. This is more of a preview of what the story’s gonna be about but I just decided to call it part one since I wrote like over 2k words. Sorry for any spelling mistakes/grammatical errors! If this does well, I’m thinking about writing more and maybe taking requests idkkkk. Anyways, enjoy!

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You did it for the thrill. Sure, the fame and special treatment was a nice plus (okay, a REALLY nice plus) but that’s not why you did it.

Being able to do what you loved for a living was satisfying in every way imaginable. Everything that you had dreamed of as a child became reality about a year ago. A few of your friends had started up a band and it shot up to international success shortly after you joined. The success of it all wasn’t a surprise, your music was amazing and creative (there were a few journalists who would wildly disagree which was to be expected of course). But how fast the fame and fortune hit was a little shocking.

As you sang with emotion into the microphone that hovered next to your crash, you hit out the last beat with a newfound energy. That was the end. That was the final song of the final show of your first international tour.

The lights cut as you tried to catch your breath. Standing, with adrenaline still coursing through your body, you ran up to the front of the stage to meet the three boys you had just spent seven months with on tour. The spotlight shined bright upon the four of you. With sweaty arms wrapped around one another, you took three big bows as the crowed roared. The sound of all the cheering was deafening but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Running around the stage with the boys, you threw your drumsticks into the crowd. Okay maybe you shouldn’t have done that. Those were quite expensive. But maybe it didn’t matter. All of your shows had sold out after all. You’d be able to afford new ones and pay the rent on time for the first time since you had moved in. 

“Thank you and goodnight!” your frontman shouts into the crowd.

Insisting on keeping your adrenaline up, you run backstage where there’s a raging party and loads of free alcohol. Soon, one drink turned to two which turned to four. Maybe there was a fifth? Or a sixth? You had lost count a long time ago. You were completely drunk. Stumbling through the crowd, you bumped into a man and spilled your drink, stepping back as it just narrowly missed your shoes. 

“What the fu-” you stopped as you looked up and realized who it was that had just run into you. “Woahh! You’re Freddie Mercury,” you exclaimed absentmindedly. You hadn’t meant to show your excitement so openly but that last drink you’d had was really starting to mess with your head.

“Y/N darling! You were absolutely brilliant out there!” Freddie complimented.

“Thank you so much! That’s a huge honour coming from you, Mr.Mercury!” you managed to say with a half-conscious mind. That last drink really wasn’t going to let you off easily. 

“Oh please, you don’t need to use those silly formalities just call me Freddie. Actually, I was talking to your manager just now about a possible collaboration between our bands. I absolutely love your work!” he said with adoration in his tone.

“That’d be amazing! I’m completely obsessed with Queen right now and in fact I’m freaking out a little right now because you’re Freddie Mercury and you’re right here in front of me and you’re telling me that you like our work,” you rambled on. Damn that fifth drink. “Sorry, think I’ve had one too many drinks. Anyways, I’ll be sure to talk to the boys about it. I guarantee you that they’ll be just as excited as I am.”

With that, you say your farewells and head back towards the party. Sure, you didn’t have all those groupies following you around like the guy had, but there were some cute guys around that you were sure wanted an in with the band. As you walk towards the noise, someone runs past you, knocking you backwards when they brush your shoulder. To a sober person, it would’ve been nothing but you definitely weren’t sober.

“Okay ouch that hurt…” you complained after being knocked back onto your ass. Looking up you saw your band’s bassist with two groupies in hand, no doubt heading to the dressing rooms for a bit of fun.

“Oh my god Y/N are you okay?” Lucas asked while reaching out a hand for you to grab. “You look absolutely shit-faced. Please don’t tell me you’re going back for more.”

“I’m fine...just lost my balance is all,” you slurred as you struggled to stand. “Just one more drink I swear.”

“No. No way Y/N. I’m gonna go call a cab to take you home.” Lucas scolded with annoyance in his voice. Pulling you up, he left his groupies behind and practically dragged you outside where the air was cold and unforgiving. Your teeth chattered and you shivered. It didn’t sober you up much but it definitely did make you more alert. “Y/N...you promised that this wouldn’t happen anymore.” Lucas said as he put his jacket around your shoulders. 

He didn’t sound condescending at all. Just really...concerned. And he had a reason to be. You had promised that you’d work on your drinking habits but you always found yourself back at the bar.

“I’m sorry.” you whispered so quietly that it was almost inaudible. Not knowing what else to say, the two of you sat on the curb in silence. It was unbearable. You knew that you’d promised a thousand times that you’d work on it but you also knew that you had broken that promise just as many times as you made it.

“Look...you know I love you. You’re like my little sister and that’s why i need to tell you that this has to stop. For real this time.” he said, breaking the silence.

“I promise I’ll work on it. For real this time.” you vow sincerely as the cab rounded the corner. 

“742 bluewhisp avenue please.” Lucas tells the driver as you practically collapse into the back seat. “I’m gonna head back inside. You gonna be all right?” he asked through the back window.

“Yeah. Think I’ll just go home and sleep this off,” you mumbled. “Hey and...thanks. You know, for always looking out for me?”

“‘Course. That’s what best friends are for,” he smiled sadly. “Make sure to drink some water when you get home.”

As you lay in the back seat on the way to your little apartment, you can’t help but think about how lucky you were to have such people that cared so much about your wellbeing. Thoughts of your little group that had turned into your family filled your mind as you dozed off. You didn’t want to think about where you’d be without them.

-----

The next morning you woke up to the screech of your ringing telephone from the kitchen. The all-too-familiar pain of a hangover began to take effect.

“Alright, alright I’m coming!” you yelled as you sped towards the wall, desperate to stop the awful noise.

“Hello?” you spoke into the phone while reaching up towards the cabinet for some painkillers for the pounding in your head.

“Y/N! Great you’re up!”

It was your manager.

“Yeah well now I am.” you said as you rolled your eyes, clearly annoyed that he had called you at such an early hour.

“Sorry Y/N but things are about to get a lot worse for you. We need you down at the studio in 15.”

“Are you kidding me?” you sighed, your head still pounding. “Fine. Give me 30 and I’ll be there.”

-----

You walked into the studio with dark sunglasses to block out the harsh studio lights that you knew would be a pain to deal with while you were still dealing with a killer hangover.

“Jesus Dan what’s so important that you needed us all here at bloody eight in the morning right after a big tour. Couldn’t we have pushed this back at least another da-” you paused upon rounding the corner and seeing who was sat on the couch.

Freddie Mercury, John Deacon, and Brian May were all sitting right in front of you with questioning eyes.

“Okay nevermind, I’d say that this is pretty important.” you admitted and sat in the chair next to the couch where some of your biggest inspirations sat.

“Now we’re just waiting for Rog as always,” Brian shook his head.

Although you were grateful and ecstatic to be in the presence of the musical icons that you had looked up to since the beginning of their careers, you were still confused as to why they were here in the first place. Just as you were about to ask, the phone went off. You held your head as the sound echoed until Hendrix, your guitarist, unhooked it from the wall.

“Hello?” he spoke.

“Hey it’s Roger. Taylor. Sorry but I’m gonna be a little later than I thought.”

“It’s Roger. Do one of you guys want to take it?” he asked and Freddie took the phone out of his grasp.

“Rog we’ve been waiting almost an hour already! Get your shit together and GET OVER HERE!” Freddie demanded and then slammed the phone back into place.

“Well there’s no point in waiting up for him even more. We’ll just catch him up once he gets here.” John spoke up.

“Actually that’s what I was wondering. Why exactly are you guys here? I mean--of course I’m not complaining but I’m just a little bit confused.” you questioned.

“Darling, I spoke to you about this last night! Although...you were completely drunk,” Freddie reminded you.

“Oh my god, the collaboration? But isn’t this too soon? Guys we JUST finished our tour. Last night in fact!” you spoke to your band.

“Yeah but we haven’t really worked on a big music project like this in so long, Y/N. Hell, we haven’t even worked on ANY new music. Plus, we’ll need to keep making more as soon as possible if we want to stay relevant on the charts and in the news.” Carter, your lead singer explained. 

You nodded in agreement when you realized that you would most definitely get bored at home doing nothing if you didn’t have anything to work on. It would drive you insane to go from playing your heart out on stage every night to sitting around watching the television play reruns of some cartoon.

“Okay so what’s the plan?” you asked your manager who was silently chatting with Queen’s own manager.

“Well, we were thinking about taking this a different way,” their manager started. “Instead of all working together in a big group, we were thinking that we’d break you all up into sections by your role in the band. So, Freddie would work with Carter, Brian with Hendrix, Deaky with Lucas, and once Roger gets here he’d work with Y/N. Then once you’ve all come up with something, everyone will work together on the lyrics and such. You guys could make something really unique with an approach like this.”

You had to admit that it was an interesting approach to songwriting. On one hand, the music could come out messy without a flow considering that each of you would be working in pairs away from the rest of your band members. On the other hand, everyone would be able to focus on just one thing and make it the best that it can possibly be. It was a 50/50 chance.

Suddenly, the door flew open. And there he was. Roger Taylor. Drummer of Queen. Much like you, he walked in with his signature pair of sunglasses.

“Look who finally decided to show up! And only after two hours of us waiting around!” Brian called out to Roger, sarcasm thick in his voice.

“Oh come off it, I’m here now and that’s all that matters,” Roger replied. “So, what are we doing?”

After your managers had explained (again) how your collaboration was going to work, you split off into your pairs, eager to get to playing. You had already thought of a million ideas since the moment you stepped into the studio doors.

“Alright so I just thought of a little beat while they were talking,” you told Roger as you took a seat behind your drumset. You drummed the beat with energy and passion, keeping the tempo up perfectly. “So, what do you think?”

“I hate it.”

“Excuse me?” you asked taken aback by how blunt he was being.

“You heard me. That was absolute rubbish!” he laughed mockingly.

“Well then, I’d like to see you do better.” you stood and offered your drumsticks to him. After taking the drumsticks, he played one of the most generic beats that you had ever heard.

“You’re joking right?” you chuckled just as he had done to you earlier. “That was such a basic drum beat! Heard it a million times!”

“Well it was better than whatever crap you just played!”

“Was it really? Think about it again and tell me with a serious face that it was better.” you retorted. Just as Roger was about to argue, Lucas burst through the door.

“Hey we’re all gonna head out for lunch. You guys coming?”

As the eight of you walk towards the small restaurant around the corner, you can’t help but wonder if Roger Taylor would be this way through the entire collaboration. You wanted to have a good time and make music with a band you were such a huge fan of but it seemed that Roger wasn’t a very big fan of you. Maybe what they say is true. You should never meet your heroes.

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A/N: So?? What do you think? I was really nervous to post this but I’m really glad that I did because writing this was so much fun! Again, any notes or reblogs are appreciated!