#you can literally see roger smiling in a couple shots. please just appreciate the band's hard work. it's a really good fucking song

[golbrocklovely]

the chosen daughter // colby brock - chapter twenty

A/N: holy shit it has been five months since i last updated this story. i'm so sorry about that ! it was nice to take a break and start writing a bunch of different, smaller fics, but i never planned to take a break from this for that long. hopefully you enjoy this chapter ! let me know what you think, and i'll see you guys later <3 also if you like this story or chapter, please reblog it ! i'd appreciate that so much :)

story description

taglist: @far-to-many-bands , @idfk-tbh-oops , @muted-mayham , @ughwhyislifesohard , @justtanerd , @ashyoungxblood ,  @cmburgos

trigger warning: cursing, bar setting, threats, angst, max is back lol

word count: 2504

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the past couple days of bullshit, going to work was not something I wanted to do.

I sat in my car, glaring at Vampiro, knowing I was already late for work. I could feel my anger rising to the surface as I loomed over at the brick building.

I didn't want to deal with customers, or really anyone, for that matter. But I also didn't want to be in the Trapp Haus. The thumping of club music off the walls was slowly driving me insane.

I was just... so done with everything.

I wanted one night of peace, one night of normal. I wanted one night to just lie in bed with my boyfriend and cuddle. I didn't think I was asking for much.

Colby's my boyfriend now.

I smiled at the thought, my body calming down for a second. I guess after all the crazy events that occurred recently, that was the only silver lining.

I groaned, slowly sliding my body out of the car, locking it with a click of my keys. I quickly ran towards Vampiro, shuffling in the back door quietly.

“You're late again.” Roger blinked, staring me down.

I sighed deeply. “Yeah, Roger, I am.”

He crossed his arms tightly, “This is the third time in a row.”

“Do you expect me to be early, like... ever?” I let out a dry laugh.

He shook his head, “No, but I expect you to be on time.”

We both turned to the kitchen door swinging open, Ronnie walking in nonchalantly.

“Do you need something?” Roger queried, glancing behind me.

Ronnie smiled innocently, “Just more shot glasses.”

I turned back to Roger, “Well, Roger, I'm usually on time. I'm just not having a great week.”

That's a fucking understatement.

“This past month alone you've been late almost ten times.” He stated.

“Okay... what are you going to do about it?” I deadpanned, glaring.

I could hear a tiny gasp from Ronnie as Roger stepped back. “Excuse me?”

“What are you going to do about it? You're not gonna fire me.” I dared.

He started, scrunching his face, “How do you know I wo-”

"Because who else is gonna put up with the terrible fucking pay and gross vampires on the daily? It's not like you got other people lining up to work here." I took a deep breath, looking directly into Roger's eyes. "I apologize for being late, it's not my intension. But tonight is not the night to fuck with me. Got it?"

A heavy silence fell over the three of us. Ronnie's mouth was hung wide open, clutching the shot glasses in her hands. Roger sucked his teeth, dropping his arms, and walking towards his office.

He called out. “Just try not to be late again.”

I smiled sarcastically. “Cool. Thanks Roger.”

Ronnie glided in front of me, mouth still hanging open, “Oh my God, who are you and what have you done with Jade?”

I rolled my eyes, “I'm in the worst fucking mood right now. I literally contemplated going home while I was sitting in the parking lot.”

“That bad of a day?” She frowned.

“No, but the week? Even worse.” I groaned, walking into the bar.

She followed right behind me, placing the shot glasses down. “Why? What happened? Oh wait, let me guess…”

I waited for her to guess, making a mixed drink for a customer.

She gasped again, “Oh my God, you and Colby broke up, didn't you?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “What?”

“I can just tell that that’s what happened. He’s always given you so much stress, it would make sense that you would get tired of that.” Ronnie grinned, patting my shoulder, “Well since you’re single now, you should go out there and get a new vampire boyfriend. Show Colby what he’ll be missing.”

I snorted, “Ronnie, that’s not what happened.”

“What? Yes it is. This anger you have,” Ronnie waved her hand in a circle, “has ‘broken up with my vampire boyfriend’ written all over it.”

I puzzled. “That’s something that’s noticeable?”

“Oh, 100%, especially with you.” She noted.

I sassed. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but me and Colby are still together. Hell, we’re even closer now.”

“You’re lying. You guys broke up.” She rebutted, placing drinks on her tray.

I raised an eyebrow at her tone. “Why are you arguing with me about this? No, we didn’t.”

“Obviously you did.” She expressed, shrugging her shoulders.

I scoffed. “Why would you think that unless I told you so?”

“I just know you guys broke up. You went through something crazy this weekend and now are no longer together.” She declared, looking at me.

My face dropped, my body leaning away from her. “How… would you know that?”

“I can just tell, that’s all.” She walked away quickly, placing drinks down on a table nearby.

Why would she say I went through something crazy this weekend? How would she know that’s true?

I waited until she came back behind the bar to speak. “Colby and I are still together, so you’re wrong.”

“Okay, if you insist on lying to me,” she chuckled, “you should break up with him anyway.”

“What? Why? You were the one that was pushing me to get with him!” I hissed, wiping down the bar.

“I know, but I was wrong. Let’s be honest, he’s terrible.” Ronnie confessed, leaning against the counter.

I rested my hands on my hips, my voice low. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Think about it: ever since he came into your life, it’s gotten worse. You constantly come in here in a bad mood, complaining about something bad that happened on your days off,” she nodded. “Colby is to blame for all of that.”

“Stop talking about my boyfriend like that. He’s the only good thing I have in my life right now, actually.” I argued, pulling out a bottle of vodka.

She stepped towards me. “You should be honest with me.”

“I am being honest. Can we just move on?” I turned away from her, grabbing some shot glasses.

“You’re my best friend, Jade. You don’t need to lie. Friends don’t lie to each other.” She droned, monotone.

“I know, but I’m not-” I spun back to her, cutting myself off.

I blinked, my eyes glancing around Ronnie quickly. The flashy lights in the bar made it look like an aura had appeared around her, an almost yellow glow.

“What?” She cocked her head.

I closed my eyes hard, rubbing them softly. “Nothing.”

Fuck, I’m losing it.

“I’m just gonna step outside for a minute.” I responded.

She pursed her lips. “Alright, I’ll cover for you.”

I walked through the back and stepped outside into the cool air. I exhaled, resting my body against the brick wall of the building.

Maybe it was a guess. Maybe Ronnie assumed something happened between me and Colby and that’s why I was upset. But something about the way she was talking made it seem like she knew me and Colby broke up.

We didn’t… but we almost did.

And that’s what concerned me.

How the fuck would she know?

And did I really see an aura around her?

“You should be more aware of your surroundings.” A deep voice spoke.

I jumped back, glancing up at the man in front of me.

Max beamed at me, shuffling back slightly. “…wouldn’t want some random vampire to run up on you, now.”

I gritted my teeth, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I just figured I’d stop by, say hello.” He remarked, his hands behind his back.

I scowled. “You think I want to see you right now?”

He smirked lightly, “You didn’t mind seeing me a day or two ago… on our date.”

I stepped to him, getting in his face. “Don’t act like I went on that date because I wanted to.”

Max shot his hands up defensively. “What’s with the hostility?”

“You know exactly what you did, fucker,” I spat. “How dare you do that to Colby.”

“And what exactly was that?” He asked innocently.

“You made him dream that I was cheating on him. Like I would ever let you kiss me or take my blood.” I jeered.

His face turned serious, dark. “I could do both of those things still, you know.”

“Like hell you will.” I fumed.

His face relaxed, an almost mischievous look coming to his eyes. “How’d you know I made him dream about it?”

Fuck me.

I stammered. “W-We have cameras in our apartment. I saw him walk out into the living room and stand in the same place for three hours. And he stayed asleep for most of the day.”

“Yeah, my powers kind of do that to people.” He laughed.

“The cameras were the only way I was able to convince him it didn’t happen.” I doubled down.

He bit his lip, glancing at my eyes. “I have to ask, how did you know my powers were dream manipulation?”

Fuck. Me. Again.

“I don’t dream that way,” I commented. “And again, I wouldn’t let you drink my blood.”

“I guess that’s valid.” He snickered quietly, “But come on, are you really that upset with me about yesterday?”

“I’m actually holding back the urge to stab you.” I deadpanned.

He whistled. “Harsh.”

“Why did you do it? How did you do it? What was the point?” I questioned, crossing my arms.

“To have fun. Liven up your life a bit.” Max teased.

I exhaled. “Fuck you.”

“What? Life is meant to be a game. Especially if you’re like me and have been alive for 500 years, give or take.” He replied, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“You still didn’t answer how you did it.” I mentioned.

He hummed. “What do you mean?”

“You weren’t in the apartment. How did you get Colby to dream like that?” I inquired.

“My secret?” He got close to me, too close. The back of his hand grazed my skin, his eyes watching me, “Just a light touch does the trick. And then, I’m inside your head forever. Or at least for a couple days.”

“That’s fucked.” I muttered.

“Yeah, but it’s also fun.” He dropped his head, taking a step back as his eyes peered up at me, “I didn’t do it just to piss you off.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“I also did it… because I like you.” He professed.

I huffed, staring up at the sky. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. I think you’re beautiful, and you shouldn’t be with Colby.” Max admitted.

“And be with you instead?” I let out a dry laugh, “I’d rather die.”

He sucked his teeth. “I can still arrange that.”

“Cute choice of words for someone that has a crush on me.” I got back in his face, almost chest-to-chest with him, “All that bullshit you did? Don’t do that ever again. If you come near Colby and hurt him like that I swear to God-”

Ronnie’s voice suddenly rang out. “Hey Jade? Can you come back in? I need help.”

Max and I turned towards Ronnie, her body peaking out the back door.

I cleared my throat, backing away from Max. “Sorry, Ronnie. Lost track of time.”

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to keep your friend for so long.” He smiled charmingly at Ronnie.

Ronnie stared at Max, her eyes narrowing. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Excuse me?” He asked.

“I know you. You look familiar.” She repeated.

“Well, that’s strange, because I don’t know you.” He assured.

“I definitely know you from somewhere…” She grumbled, strolling back inside after a moment.

Silence fell over the both of us. I continued to glare daggers at Max. His eyes met mine and he smiled.

“Well, I guess I’ll get going and let you get back to work.” He added, “I know when I’m not wanted.”

I murmured. “Clearly you don’t.”

His eyes drifted down me for a moment as I turned to head back inside. Then he stopped me, lightly grabbing my arm.

“Your necklace…” His eyes widened.

I jolted his hand off me. “What? What about it?”

“Um…” He shook his head, blinking his eyes, “Where did you get it?”

“I don’t know. My family gave it to me.” I quipped, “Are we done here?”

Max relaxed, his face normal again. Another smirk appeared. “Of course. Have a goodnight.”

I rolled my eyes, closing the door on him.

“He’s kinda cute.” Ronnie giggled, still standing by the door.

I scoffed, “For an asshole, sure.”

I tried to work for an hour, doing my best to keep my mind off of Ronnie and Max. With Ronnie assuming that me and Colby ended things, and Max showing up, I’ve had my fill of vampires and the drama they bring tonight.

All I wanted to do was go home and be with Colby, the only vampire that wasn’t an asshole to me.

I grunted loudly, dropping cups and shot glasses on my tray into the sink and yanking my apron off. “I’m fucking done. I’m going home early.”

“Why, what’s wrong? Is this about Co-” She began.

I interjected immediately. “If you bring up Colby one more time, I’m gonna smack you. Me and Colby are fine. It’s the rest of my life that isn’t. And you’re not helping. Tell Roger I got sick or something. Hell, I’ll text him when I get home.”

Ronnie retorted, rolling her eyes. “Jesus, there’s no need to be a bitch to me.”

“Yes, there is!” I ranted. “You have been up my ass all night about me and Colby breaking up when we haven’t. For whatever reason it’s in your head that we aren’t together.”

“Well, maybe I just think you and Colby shouldn’t be together anymore.” She complained.

I grabbed my bag, scrunching my face, “For what reason?”

“Because he isn’t good enough for you. You should be dating someone that cares about you. Like that guy outside.” She stated happily.

“What guy?” I questioned.

“The man you were talking to.” She disclosed.

“…Max? You want me to date Max?” I gasped, holding back a gag.

She nodded, a light smile on her face. “Yeah, he seems sweet. I saw the way he was looking at you.”

I started walking towards the exit, “Oh my God, we are not having this conversation. I’m leaving.”

Ronnie followed me out the door, stopping at the front of the bar. “I’m not gonna have anyone to help cover your shift.”

“Damn, that sucks to be you then.” I turned, smiling bitterly.

“You’re such a bitch.” Ronnie sneered.

“Like you haven’t been one too. I’m tired of dealing with you, this place, and all these fucking vampires.” I ripped my door open, throwing my stuff into the car. “Maybe I want one night in my life to not be about vampires!”

I jumped into the driver’s seat, revving the engine to life, and raced out of the parking lot.

<< CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 21 >>

[80s-roger]

Flirty & Insistent

Pairing: 70s!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

note: female reader's ethnicity will not affect the person who reads it. She's just greek and she already has a name but the POV will be in second person.

also, i won’t post smuts/series as often as i did until next month, due to uni’s exams period. but i’ll reblog and stuff, u kno. I’ll work in the meanwhile your requests xx love you all 

ps i worked hard on this one, i hope you like it as much as i did. feedback will be massively appreciated.

requested by anonymous:

"Plss write something smutty about roger being a massive flirt and being soo cheeky the reader(after trying acting indifferent and unimpressed) eventually gives in to the temptation of letting him have his way with her?? 💕💕 "

masterlist // dialogue prompts

summary: you left your country a decade ago to study in the UK and after graduating you established in Mallorca, Spain to work as a mixologist. That summer night, you're working for a party arranged by Queen's management to celebrate their "A Day At The Races" era success. The blonde drummer notices you fixing drinks with confidence and doesn't lose the chance to flirt with you. He's just trying too hard because you play it uninterested until he has his way with you.

word count: 3,933

warnings: surface sex, slow burn (becauase they were talking a lot before, idk if it really is a slow burn tho)

A huge party was taking place in Mallorca, with the famous rock band Queen being the main guests of the event. You were one of the bartenders so all you had to do that night was fixing drinks for every person until they'd be shitfaced. The preparations were ready: the event was hosted at the beachside, opposite the calm waves and the golden sand. The sunset was magical to stare at, ready to welcome the bright moon. You had a moment to appreciate it before guests would come at any moment. It was the only thing that reminded you of your ex without feeling angsty about it; you gotta admit you didn't break up with good terms. It was toxic, yet heartbreaking. You loved that man but he left after cheating on you. It's been half a year and you needed to give yourself a break from dating and making out regardless of how social your job is and how much flirt you've received.

The guests arrived, minute by minute they'd get from fifty to hundred. Many people were coming to your counter to order drinks and cocktails. Beautiful women and attractive men would try to flirt with you but turned them down politely saying while you're working you can't do otherwise so they respected it. All these people were actually invited by Queen, their management and the entire record company. They were all celebrating Queen's "A Day At The Races" success and certainly the band which were yet to be seen until midnight.

You were working your ass for a couple of hours now until the band showed up. You could tell by the huge welcoming. The applause, the cheers and definitely women cajoling over them. Here they were standing in the centre of attention, thanking everyone for supporting them and buying their records. Their music was playing at the stereo and you couldn't prevent yourself from jamming to their songs.

When their speech was over, everyone was free to do what they wanted so your bar counter was full again with people chatting and drinking. You saw the entire fucking band coming to your place, obviously for an order. You tried to stay calm because hands-off, you liked their music and fangirled a lot when you saw them live last year in London with your boyfriend.

"Hello beautiful, can I have some Moet & Chandon, please? I really need to celebrate!" Freddie spoke first, carrying a wide smile on his face.

"Sure." You kindly accepted his offer.

"I'd like the same with Freddie." Brian interrupted when you moved behind to grab the expensive bottle and open it.

"So do I." John added and you nodded to grab three glasses, for now.

"And you?" You turned your gaze to the blonde handsome drummer who was already checking you out, focusing especially on your face.

"What do you suggest?" He asked with his eyes being totally flirty.

"Ah, darling, just give us the bottle. Roger is kind of undecided when it comes to drinks." Freddie felt the weird vibe growing between Roger and you. John and Brian giggled, looking whether at Roger or you.

"Eh, our waiter will do it for you. Just sit at your table and he'll take care of you." You kindly warned and he laughed.

"Oh, alright then love. We'll wait for our bottle." He laughed and left with his bandmates, leaving Roger and you alone.

"So? What do you suggest?" Roger turned his gaze back at your eyes.

"What do you feel like drinking? Something sweet, strong, alcohol-free?" You asked trying to help him but he was certainly not trying to find what to drink. He was clearly trying to flirt with you.

"Something to keep me up all night, I guess. But don't make me feel dizzy." He put on a crooked smile and hell, he was attractive as fuck. He knew how to play.

"Right, how does a mojito sound?" You recommended.

"Sounds nice and local." He smiled and you turned around to grab the ingredients. "Are you local? 'Cause your accent doesn't sound British to me." He asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Eh no, I am from the Mediterranean area though." You laughed after turning again to him.

"Italian?" He guessed.

"Greek." You answered.

"Oh, I've been to Greece twice." He started.

"Really? When?" You turned your gaze surprised. You had no idea he has come to Greece for holidays.

"Two years ago I was with my ex-girlfriend, in Santorini. The sunset there is amazing. And the next year I went with John and Brian to Crete. We needed a dose of some Mycenaean civilisation. Thankfully we weren't noticed by fans or anyone else. We were clearly there for tourism." He explained. You were impressed he's seen your country, visited two of the many islands your country has.

"Well, we had some political issues when you guys came to Greece. We were recovering from the junta and had some important historical issues by the end of 1974 so I doubt they'd run behind you, no offence." You laughed while fixing his drink.

"Oh, that's bad. But I understand. How come you're here in Mallorca being a bartender?" He asked and leaned closer to you. There was a nice conversation going on.

"Before junta ruled my country, I was sent to England to study because my parents thought I would be privileged. Now you see me in Mallorca because I work here and besides, I wanted to live somewhere that reminds me of Greece. Studying abroad has the privilege of learning a new culture, a new way of life and so on. Which is so wrong for the locals back home." You explained and cut a slice of lemon before having it ready for him.

"Wait, by saying it's wrong, you mean that..." his brain stopped working for a second trying to understand what you meant.

"Patriarchy is the keyword. They want women to get married at 18 and start a family. But obviously, women have to stay home." You were triggered at your words and internally thanked your parents for giving you the chance to go abroad.

"Cheers to your parents then. I wouldn't get the chance to meet you tonight." He was impressed by your short storytime. "How do I say bottoms up in Greek?" He laughed after you placed him his drink.

"It's pronounced áspro páto." You smiled after saying a Greek word. It must have been a year since you last spoke Greek. You haven't visited Greece for a long time. You found yourself in Mallorca. It's spiritually free and not restricting.

"So, I haven't asked you yet. What's your name?" Roger asked after drinking. He made an oddly satisfying grimace which meant he liked your drink.

"Oh, it's Ellen." You answered. His gaze was literally focused on you the entire time. He wouldn't give up this easy.

"So Ellen, make yourself a drink. It's a treat for you." He offered and you kindly accepted. It's not bad, you've been offered many times. Besides, you needed a drink to stay energised.

"Thank you, Mr Taylor." You thanked him and then his smile vanished.

"If you want us to be in good terms, it's gonna be Roger." His hand was warning you.

"Thank you, Roger." You slightly smiled. "It's just that..." you stopped and checked around if your boss is nearby. "We are obliged to speak to our guests in plural." You whispered and he nodded. Possibly understood the situation.

"So what are you doing later?" He asked after swallowing a sip of his mojito.

"We're cleaning the mess and we're heading homes." You said after drinking a shot. A treated drink.

"I'm not talking about your colleagues. I'm talking about you." He was straightforward. He was so into you, it was obvious.

"Oh well, I'll clean up the mess and I'm heading home." You changed the point of view trying to cut off his flirty attitude.

"When's that time? Dawn?" He guessed.

"Probably at the morning. It's a Queen party, I doubt people will leave before the sun rises." You rolled your eyes sarcastically.

"So..." he started. "Have you been listening to our music?" He asked.

"Yes, since your first album. It was brilliant for a newly formed band." You said with a huge smile on your face and he appreciated it. He appreciated that you didn't fangirl in front of him, having that humble and uninterested attitude. He liked feeling like a predator trying to catch his bait.

"What's your favourite song of A Day At The Races?" He asked. He likes talking to people about his music.

"Definitely Somebody To Love." You affirmed, feeling passionate about your answer, that it seemed you could relate your existence to this song.

"Oh, it's a band's fave too. Well, you relate to this song, don't you?" He asked and his body was closer to yours. The counter was the only thing beside you.

"I guess I do." You looked down for a moment, thinking of your ex but his hand touched your jaw trying to lift you up. Your eyes were looking into his and this is how you noticed how blue they eventually are. An ocean.

"Is it about a guy? I'm sure he doesn't deserve you." He tried to cheer you up with his soft smile.

"It's not that. It's..." you sighed. "Well, this is getting too personal." You pulled back trying to stop the situation. But he wouldn't abandon his try.

"Do you have any specific lyric of the song you relate the most?" He asked.

"Yes, there is that one: I've spent all my years in believing you but I just can't get no relief, Lord." You kind of explained the situation within a couple of lyrics. "He cheated on me. He had the audacity of saying it to my face and left without looking back or apologising." You nearly tore but tried to keep it for yourself. This is getting too personal and you're opening your heart to a stranger that you feel comfortable with. Maybe because you've been listening to him and his bandmates for years and you've seen him live too.

"You know..." he looked down for a second trying to find the words. "At least he was honest. He could keep you for his entertainment if things didn't work with the girl he possibly slept with." He tried to wake you, but he was right.

"I don't even know how long he was cheating on me. However, I did notice a weird behaviour in the last couple of months we were together." You answered.

"Be happy that you're not with him anymore. He took your love for granted. This is not how it works." He said with his eyes still focused on yours.

"You know, we once saw you live. Last year." You tried to avoid talking about your ex the entire time.

"Oh! That's great! Did I look nice?" He joked and he gained a laugh from you. That made him feel nice.

"Definitely, you always look nice." You took a moment to check him out. And hell, he looks and smells so nice.

"I'm flattered." He smiled and you pulled back again to do your job. You could see your boss staring at you. That wasn't good.

"You better get going, my boss is supervising us." You said and he got the hint. You were as cold as you could be.

"Sure, will I see you later?" He asked and stood up from his chair, ready to leave.

"No. I'll be too tired by then." You answered and he was saddened by your reply. He thought he had you. His flirting wasn't sufficient. Which means he had to try again.

He left and walked to his bandmates, they were there talking about their success until Roger joined their conversation but it changed as soon as he sat on the sofa next to Brian.

"So, how did it go Rog?" Freddie asked and they were all ready to hear.

"She seems so uninterested and hard to get, I have to try again." He took out one of his cigarettes, ready to smoke and think.

"Ah, your type of girls Roger." Brian laughed. "You like feeling a hunter don't you?" He added.

"Of course I do. But she recently broke up and I reckon she's still into him. How do women's brains work anyway?" He asked, frustrated.

"Oh darling, I don't see her as stuck with her ex as you think she is. She's been avoiding your flirting because she works here." Freddie had a point and John nodded.

"Just wait for her shift to end and make a move. She noticed you were flirting with her." John suggested and they all agreed to it.

"It's gonna take hours. She said it's possible for the party to end after dawn. She also has to clean up with her colleagues." Roger explained and turned his gaze back to you. But you were already looking at him and when you noticed, you turned back to your counter.

"Fine, then do it now," Freddie advised and Roger looked at you considered. "Wait where's she going?" Freddie asked after noticing your figure leaving your position.

"James, would you mind taking my place for a moment? I really need to use the bathroom." You called for your colleague who politely came to your counter.

"Sure, go ahead. I'll be here as long as you need." He smiled and you left for the bathroom to take a very needed pee.

"Shall I go after her?" Roger asked.

"Fucking go!" Freddie pushed Roger to run after you no matter how awkward it would be.

You walked in the staff-only bathroom, rushing to the toilet. After drinking a few shots, you needed to pee like a champion. When you pushed the flusher you unlocked your door and the very first thing you saw, was Roger standing at the wall.

"What the hell are you doing here, get out!" You were shocked by his presence and he wouldn't move.

"This is the only chance I have with you right now. Your boss can't see us." He came closer to you.

"No, but he'll get suspicious!" You tried to pull back until you reached the counter. Now you were sandwiched between Roger and the counter. There was no space between you. His face was coming closer to yours.

"I locked the door in any case." His nose tickled yours and his hands placed you on top of the counter, sitting now and having his bulge, against your area. That feeling is the shit.

"I work here, I can't..." you tried to refuse but the feeling of getting fucked couldn't stop you.

"I can't be in this toilet too, but here I am." His lips touched yours with passion and lust. His arms wrapped your waist and lowered down to your arse, squeezing it gently and your hands moved to his neck and his cheeks, trying to hug most of it. You haven't gotten kissed nor fucked for a long time.

Living on the west side of Europe had given you many opportunities. The situation you're currently now couldn't even be referred to Greek religious people as a joke. They'd freak out and tell you crap like you ashamed your honour, your family and your future husband. Your parents were too open-minded to let you live in West Europe and live your life as you wanted to. You had sex with your boyfriend at nineteen, with no need to be your first wedding night, you wear shorts on summers because you feel like it and now you're having a one night stand with a rockstar of a band you like and it's never gonna be the same anymore. You played it hard-to-get because you felt it was wrong. But it wasn't. It's just one more experience to add to your diary.

"Are you sure you want to do this, here?" He stopped the kiss for a second, to ask for your approval.

"Yes, but let it be fast, or I'll be in trouble." You checked at the door. "Are you certain the door's locked?" You asked.

"Yes, I am. It's just that..." he stopped.

"What?" You were scared he regretted it and he'd leave you like the mess you already are.

"I want to get more of you, but in this counter, I don't have the chance. I'll cope with it." He unbuttoned your suit while your hands tried to unzip his jeans.

"If you stay a little longer in Mallorca, you can get more of me." You winked and he smiled, thinking he has more chances with you.

"Works for me." He whispered and turned to your lips again for a passionate kiss.

He helped you with taking your suit off, now staying on your bra when your hands put his jeans down. "Mind taking your bra off?" He asked while his mouth travelled your neck, giving it soft kisses.

"I'd rather wear it..." you refused taking it off after gaining a lot of insecurities because of your ex-boyfriend. You remember him saying how small your breasts are and with that, no other man can see it. Your A-cups haven't be seen by any other man. Not even by your ex after the second time, you had sex with him.

"As you wish..." he didn't insist and pulled your skirt up, on your waist, with his bulge rubbing against your core and turning you instantly wet. "How long has it been?" He asked after noticing the humidity between your legs with his hand.

"Must be eight months. I'm out of practice." You sighed.

"Don't feel bad about it, I'll do the work. You're already wet for me. I like it." He bit his lower lip and turned to your lips again, for a deep kiss. "God, you are fat-bottomed aren't you?" He smiled between the kiss after squeezing your thighs and your small waist. "I'm starting to have a thing for greek girls." He complimented your body type and that boosted your low confidence level. With a simple move, he placed you against the mirror, taking your thong off your left leg to have clear access inside your wet area. His hand pulled his erected penis out of his black underwear, ready to thrust inside you.

"You better start before I cum untouched." You exhaled and balanced yourself at the counter.

He smirked and trusted inside you, feeling him completely weird inside you, maybe because you haven't had sex for more than half a year. The sensation was amazing and penetration was always the thing that released you from thoughts. His hands squeezed your thighs and each thrust was a try to pull you closer to his pelvis. You couldn't stop breathing heavily. You had to be quiet and so did he. It was a staff-only bathroom and the key was turned horizontally so no-one could break in with a spare key.

"Oh god, this is amazing..." you moaned at every pleasuring wave while your hands played with his blonde hair.

"Fuck, yes, you're so tight and wet for me." He tightened his teeth as he exhaled into your ear.

His thrusts were giving you the orgasm you haven't had for a long time. It was the tension between you, that made it more passionate but fast enough to make you come earlier than you thought. Soft whimperings coming from your mouth sent him the message that you were close enough and so was he. You could tell by his sharp thrusts, getting smoother and sudden. His gaze was focused on your eyes. Your sight was getting blurry and your legs began to shake; it happens when you reach your orgasm and it feels terrific.

"Ah, God..." you moaned and tilted your head behind, where the mirror is. "That was so refreshing." You gasped after wearing your thong again.

"Ain't gonna lie, but this WC shag was the best I had." He laughed and wore his underwear and jeans again.

"I can't make comparisons to it, I've only had two boyfriends in my life and this is my first time fucking a stranger at my workplace's restroom." You buttoned your suit and stood up from the counter to fix yourself.

"Stranger?" He asked confused.

"Stranger, Roger. I mean, I do know you're a rockstar, a member of my favourite band and I've seen you live once but it won't change the fact you're a stranger. I know you as a persona, not as a person. You get it?" You tried to explain how it feels.

"Oh, I see." He nodded. "Will I see you again? I want to know you as a person if you want that too." He suggested.

"Sure." You kissed his cheek gently, letting him take the lead. You wanted him to make the move. "I'll just walk out from the WC first and make sure no one sees you when you get out." You said and walked through the door until someone tried to get in. A knock on the door was heard.

"Ellen, are you still in there?" It was James.

"Yes, I'm coming." You internally panicked and hinted at Roger to hide in the toilet. "Hey James, is everything alright?" You asked after opening the door.

"Yes, I wanted to check on you. You were absent for a quarter. Are you okay? You look like a mess." James liked you for a long period of time but he wasn't your type. He's way too cute for your standards.

"Yeah, I'm fine... I just felt a little dizzy and wanted to wash my face with cold water. I needed it." You lied after checking your face in the mirror. You were red as a tomato.

"Oh, fine then. You should get back to your post. The boss has been looking for you." He pointed outside and you felt really bad about it. Your boss suspects you since the moment you started chatting with the blonde man hiding in the toilet.

"Alright, I'll be back in a minute." You closed the door to his face and rushed to the toilet where Roger was hiding.

"You're a cute little liar, aren't you?" He teased and gave you a little slap on your butt cheek.

"I won't be anymore if my boss finds out." You rushed, trying to leave the toilet.

"How will I reach you?" He asked trying to learn your phone number.

"Just come at my post and I'll hand you a drink." You declared and left the room, heading fastly at your post. You stared at the Queen members, looking at you all smiles and winks. They probably knew what happened a quarter ago.

You fixed another drink for Roger, trying to look calm and relaxed. But you weren't. You were tense and it could be seen. Two minutes later, Roger came to your counter again with a crooked smile on his face, waiting for the drink. He was looking whether at his bandmates or you. There was absolute silence.

"Here's your drink." You smiled and handed his drink with a small paper around the glass. He carefully grabbed the paper so it couldn't be seen and walked away, heading to the balcony.

He grabbed the paper, unfolded it and there was your phone number and a note in it: "thanks for giving me a good time Rog"

He smirked at your note and placed it in his pocket, anticipating the moment he'd call you.

[freddiesaysalright]

Peace Like A River Part 1

A Gwilym Lee x Reader Story

Summary: Reader is a stand up comic with a pretty dark past. She has a three new lights in her life: her daughter, Violet; her anonymous correspondent, Dear Friend; and Gwilym Lee. 

Word Count: 3.4K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural @someone-get-a-medic @bensrhapsody @deakyclicks If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I had like the snippet of an idea for this and then needed more for a plot, but I think I’ve finally got it together lol. Hope y’all like it!

Part I here we go!!!

Grinning, you read over the letter once more from backstage. His words in that graceful, loopy handwriting warmed you from your heart to your toes. You sighed contentedly, stuffed the paper into your back pocket for luck, and waited for your cue.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, Y/N Y/L/N!” the host cried. 

You shook out the last of your nerves and walked out on the stage, waving and grinning at the huge crowd that stood and applauded for you. You had never done a show for an audience this large and it was both intimidating and exhilarating. 

“Thank you!” you said, as you waited for them to stop cheering. “Thank you. Thank you all for coming. Really, I appreciate it because whenever I have to go out and do things, I think about killing myself.”

A nervous titter went through the crowd and you smiled again.

“Seriously, I do. I’ll think about killing myself over nothing. Like, the other day, I was in the car on my way home from the store and my sister called me and asked me to stop by her place and help her and her husband move furniture. And I actually thought ‘If I crashed my car right now and died, I wouldn’t have to go move any fucking furniture.’”

They laughed.

“It’s crazy, I know, but I casually think about it any time I’m even minorly inconvenienced. But what stops me from doing it - like, my next line of thought - is something equally meaningless. Like, in that scenario with my sister, the thing that held me back was like, I thought ‘But fuck, Bohemian Rhapsody is coming out in like two months and I really wanna see that.’”

A couple cheers came through the laughter and you smiled.

“Oh, we got some Queen fans in here tonight?” you said. 

More cheers.

“Yeah, cheer, clap, fuck yeah!”

A swell of shouts and whistles went through the crowd and you joined them.

“Fuck yeah, y’all were raised right,” you said when it settled down. “Queen is a great band. Just four sexy dudes making banger after banger. They’re legitimately my favorite band. I’m not gonna lie, they really got me through some shit, but we’ll come back to my trauma later.”

You paused for a small bit of laughter.

“Now normally, I don’t like when comedians talk about Queen. And by that, I mean, I don’t like it when comedians talk about Freddie Mercury,” you said. “And it’s not for some pretentious reason like they’re not real fans or something. It’s literally just that when people joke about Freddie Mercury, they joke about the same two things - his teeth and his sexuality - two extremely fucking boring things to joke about.”

You took a sip of water.

“Not only are they boring, they’re just rude. Like, these are things this man was born with and couldn’t change about himself - he had no control over that. What he did have control over - the fucking ridiculous lyrics of Under Pressure.”

A giggle went through them. You smiled.

“I’m serious. Have any of you ever looked up the lyrics to that song? Most of it doesn’t really bother me, it’s just those weird scat-like shit Freddie does between verses. Like, they have these great, meaningful lines followed by Freddie going ‘Um, bah, bah, bay.’ What the fuck?”

They laughed.

“That shit is in the official lyrics of that legendary song and I think about that every goddamn day. That and fucking ‘dee, dah, day - ok!’ Shit like that is how you know these dudes were on drugs. One of those guys came up with that, pitched it to four other people - if not more - and they all went ‘fuckin genius’ and bam! Under Pressure is one of the greatest hits of all time.”

They laughed harder.

“I guess I’m not as disturbed by that as I am by the fact that the people ate it up like they did. It’s one thing for those guys to say it’s genius, but then for us as the public to say it as well just fucks me up. The first time I heard that song I was like ‘what the cinnamon toast fuck am I listening to?’ Shit was weird.”

You took another drink as they laughed. 

“But honestly, I don’t understand why people go for Freddie’s sexuality when there are clearly much more roastable things to talk about. I don’t care how rich and famous he was, if you’re a straight white guy making fun of gay brown guy for being either or both of those things, you’re punching down, dude, and that’s not comedy, that’s just being an asshole.”

For that, they applauded. You continued on through your set, and this audience was great for you. They were responsive and you held their attention throughout. You were almost ready to close the show.

“I always like to end my shows with the most important person in my life,” you said. “I’ve talked about her already tonight, and she’s my daughter, Violet.”

The tech guys put a picture of her up on the projector behind you. You beamed at it. 

“That’s her. She’s three years old and she’s my everything. She’s the reason I get on stage and in front of cameras. She’s the real reason I don’t crash my car to get out of moving furniture.”

With one final laugh, you bid them goodnight. You took a little bow at the roar of applause and smiled widely. You said a few more thank yous before the spotlight dimmed and you walked off stage to the sound of cheering and clapping. It never ceased to amaze you how far you had come. 

Someone took the mic for you as your assistant approached. She was a recent hire, and something you initially resisted. But now that your name and brand had grown, you really did need the help. Her name was Stacy, and she was incredibly efficient. You liked her, as did Violet, which sold you on hiring her.

“Great show,” she said with a smile. “Vi is asleep in the green room. We’ve got a couple VIP guests for you to meet before we take you both back to the hotel.”

“Alright, lead the way,” you replied.

You followed her to another room backstage where you saw a group of men. Most of them had their back to you, but one face, you recognized. Gwilym Lee, who you considered a friend, even though you hadn’t spoken in a while.

Before you had really thrown yourself into standup, you did a bit of acting. You and Gwilym shot a pilot of a sitcom that unfortunately never aired, but while filming, you had become really close. You even felt like he was flirting with you a few times, but back then you were nowhere near ready to start a new relationship, so you’d kept things strictly platonic. Nowadays, you mostly liked each others pictures on Instagram as your main form of communication. But life was busy for both of you. You were on tour and he had gone on to films.

You started to smile but then froze when the man next to Gwilym turned his head. You grabbed Stacy’s arm harshly.

“Holy shit is that Brian May?” you wondered.

She chuckled. “Yeah! The VIP guests are Queen and the cast of Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Shut the fuck up!” you cried. “Really?!”

“Yep,” she assured you. “Go on in and say hello.”

Your stomach dropped with nerves. Again, you shook yourself free of them and donned your stage personality. Slipping into that mask was where you were most comfortable. While you talked about the things you had endured in your comedy, there it was lighthearted, and you did not have to face it head on. You could throw a joke out and dodge it. 

“Well, hello!” you said brightly as you entered the room. 

They all turned eyes on you and smiled as you were introduced. Brian May and Roger Taylor were without a doubt the most thrilling to shake hands with, but Rami Malek, Joe Mazzello, and Ben Hardy were also exciting. When it came time to shake hands with Gwilym, you offered a warm, friendly smile. 

“It’s great to see you again,” you said. “It’s been two years or so now?”

“Just about,” he replied. “You were wonderful.”

“Thank you!”

“Gwil was the one who convinced us to come tonight,” Joe explained. “He said you were hilarious on set when you filmed before.”

“That’s sweet,” you replied. “It is a shame that show never took off, it was a good one.”

“I certainly loved it,” Gwilym said. 

You chatted with them for a bit. They all were calming to be around. Brian and Roger were complimentary of your bit about Under Pressure, which eased some of your nerves about the set. Even though you were, you didn’t feel like you were putting on a show for them. In minutes, it felt like they were your friends. 

The door opened shortly after and in walked Stacy, hand in hand with your very sleepy daughter. She clutched her stuffed dog close to her chest as she ran right to you and crawled into you lap. You wrapped your arms around her and held her close, kissing the top of her head. She eyed the guests warily. 

“What are you doing awake, sweetie?” you asked gently, stroking her hair. 

“She woke up for a little while,” Stacy explained. “I tried to get her back down but all she wanted was Mommy.”

You smiled. “That’s okay. You can have Mommy whenever you want her.”

She snuggled into your chest, turning her face away from the strangers. 

“You don’t want to say hello?” you wondered, and she shook her head. You looked at the guys. “Sorry. She’s kinda shy.”

“That’s alright,” said Brian. 

“She’s grown up,” Gwilym said. “Last time I saw her, she was just learning to walk.”

“Oh, yeah,” you remembered. “She actually walked right into you during a scene.”

You both chuckled at the memory.  

“The director was almost mad, but she was so cute,” he continued. 

He knelt down in front of you and gently touched her arm. She turned her face to just barely peek at him. 

“Hi, Violet,” he said sweetly, smiling at her. “It’s been a while.”

Her brow furrowed. 

“You were still a little baby,” you explained to her. “But you’ve met Gwilym before.”

She relaxed and looked between you and him. 

“Daddy?” she questioned. 

You stiffened and cleared your throat uncomfortably. Then shook your head. 

“No, baby,” you told her. “No Daddy.”

She pouted at you and then hid her face again. You looked apologetically at Gwilym, who shrugged it off. He started to get up, but hesitated to pick something up off the ground. It was your letter that had been in your pocket. He held it out to you. 

“Is this yours?” he asked. 

You quickly took it, your face flushing with embarrassment. Even though there was no way he knew what it was, you still felt really shy about the whole situation. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you said, not meeting his eyes as you stuffed it back into your pocket. 

“A letter?” he questioned. 

“Just some particularly touching fanmail,” you lied. 

“Not enough people write letters anymore in my opinion,” said Roger. 

“Why sit and write a letter when you can send a text?” Ben replied. “It’s much faster.”

“Yeah, but I sort of miss the anticipation involved in letter writing,” Brian said in agreement with his bandmate. 

You continued to visit with them as Violet slowly fell asleep again against you. For a while, you felt Gwilym’s eyes on you intensely. His expression was odd. It appeared he thought he knew something more about you. It made you shift in your seat a few times before at last, he seemed to let go of whatever question was burning in his mind. 

They visited for about another half hour before you really did need to get back to your hotel, and so did they. You said fond farewells to all of them, reassured them that you would see the movie, and then it came to Gwilym. 

“We’re in New York for a few days,” he said. “Let me know if you’d like to get coffee or something and catch up.”

“That would be great,” you replied with a smile. 

You gave him a side hug since you had Violet on your hip, sleeping soundly. Her stuffed dog slipped from her hand but Gwil caught it before it hit the ground and handed it to you. 

“Can’t have that,” he said lightly. 

“Thank you,” you returned, taking it. You looked at all of them. “Have a wonderful night, guys. It was so great chatting with you.”

They all bid you one final farewell. Gwilym was the last to leave and you shared a lingering look with him before he closed the door. You continued to stare at the spot where he disappeared, realizing now how much you had missed him these last couple years. 

“Ready to go to bed?” Stacy asked. 

With a yawn, you nodded, and she ordered an Uber to take all three of you back to the hotel you were staying in. It wasn’t far from the venue, since you would be doing three shows there this week before moving on Boston. Stacy eyed you with an odd smirk as you stared out the car window. Finally, you looked at her. 

“What is it?” you asked, a bit snappier than you intended. 

“You and Gwilym Lee seemed to have a little something going on,” she said with a sly smirk. 

You rolled your eyes. “We just knew each other a couple years ago. Besides, you know I’m...involved with someone.”

“Ah, right,” she said, rolling her eyes now. “The ever elusive Dear Friend.”

“Hey, if anyone’s elusive, it’s me,” you said. “I was the one who made the arrangement what it is.”

“Y/N, you write letters to some mystery man,” she replied. “He could be anyone. Gwilym Lee is a real person and right in front of you.” 

“Dear Friend is a real person,” you argued. “I’ve just never met him.”

“And yet you’re convinced he’s your soulmate,” she returned. “I just don’t get it. How can you fall in love with someone through paper?”

“You don’t understand,” you said. “You’ve never read his letters. He’s so...eloquent and smart. And I can be myself with him. I can share my deepest thoughts and desires without any fear of judgement. He does so with me as well. It’s a real connection. The strongest I’ve ever felt with anyone.”

“You don’t know anything real about each other,” she insisted. “Not your names, not your jobs, where you live-”

“Those things don’t matter,” you cut across her. “The real stuff is deeper than that. And that’s where Dear Friend and I meet.”

“Whatever,” she said dismissively, weary of having this discussion yet again. “You’ve got your family reunion on your last day in town. I suggest you find a man in person to go with you. If you show up without someone again, I think your mother will actually lose her mind.”

You considered this. She was right, your mother absolutely hounded you about your romantic life since Violet was born. You told her you weren’t ready since your marriage had left you so scarred. You didn’t tell her about Dear Friend, though, since you knew she could never understand something like that. Plus, you had only been corresponding for a year.  

“I think Gwilym would go with you,” Stacy said, nudging you with her elbow. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of hiring some actor to be my boyfriend,” you replied. “I don’t want to expose Gwilym to my family. He’s been nothing but nice to me.”

She chuckled. “At least take him up on the coffee. I really think you should explore your options in case this Dear Friend isn’t who he says he is.”

“I will take him up on the coffee,” you assured her. “But it’s not a date. In the meantime, find some poor struggling actor to go with me and get my mother off my back.”

“I’m on it,” she assured you, already looking through her phone to get started. 

You reached the hotel at last. You took Violet to your room, bidding Stacy goodnight as she went to her room next door. You tucked your daughter into bed and kissed her on the forehead before heading over the desk. You pulled out the letter from Dear Friend that was still in your pocket and read it once more. Then you pulled out your stationery and pen to begin your reply. You were halfway through your letter when you remembered Gwilym. 

You opened your phone and pulled up his number, which you had from your days of being coworkers. You opened up a text to send to him and found yourself blanking on what to say. You had written paragraphs to Dear Friend, but when it came to asking someone to get a simple cup of coffee, you had no idea how to phrase it. It made you all the more certain Dear Friend was your person. Words came easily when talking to him. 

You went with your stage personality. You sent a casual, “Is tomorrow too soon for that coffee?” with a silly emoji. Then you returned to your letter. Gwilym texted back almost right away and suggested meeting around nine in the morning, which you agreed to. Then you finished writing your letter and sealed it in an envelope for Stacy to send off in the morning. 

The letters always took some time. One thing you knew about Dear Friend was that he was from the UK. The PO box you sent the letters to was in London, but you could also tell from the way he spelled things. You often teased each other about these differences. So of course, they took longer to send and receive. But, you agreed with Brian May that the anticipation of getting one was one of the most exciting parts of the experience. 

Another benefit of him being across the pond meant that your opportunities to meet were few. In fact, you hadn’t had one since you started writing. It was a bit of a relief. You knew you loved Dear Friend, but keeping him at arm’s (well, ocean’s) length felt safest. And after your brutal marriage to Violet’s father, Henry, being safe was of top priority for you. And yet, the desire to be with Dear Friend grew daily. It just terrified you to face the reality of it. 

The next morning, you dropped the letter and Violet off with Stacy while you went to meet up with Gwilym. You went to a local coffee shop and ordered. You paid, and he protested, but you insisted, and assured him that he could get it next time. You grabbed a table and started talking. You told him you were still living in Los Angeles and that you were mostly doing shows out in California. You tended to avoid New York, since Henry and his friends and family were still there and he was still an NYPD officer. You couldn’t avoid it on tour, though, nor your family reunion. You told Gwilym about the reunion, but not the part about you ex-husband. 

“You’re hiring someone?” he asked, baffled. “A stranger?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Some guy that was rejected from Broadway or something. I’ll pay him, and we’ll come up with a story for my mother, and then the next time I see her I’ll tell her how we tragically broke up.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll do it for you.”

You blinked. “You really don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “We’re friends. I know meeting strange men is difficult for you.”

Gwilym knew that Henry had abused you because you talked about it in your sets. You never got into gruesome detail, although you had confessed a few things to Dear Friend. You talked on stage about not dating because of what you had been through. It was extremely kind of Gwilym to offer this, and you weren’t sure how you could thank him. Your comedian mask slipped on again. 

“I’m not sure I can afford your rates, Mr. Lee,” you teased. 

“How much was my coffee?” he returned. 

“Five dollars,” you told him. 

“Well, it turns out, for friends, I offer a discounted price of five dollars,” he joked. “So, consider it payment for the coffee.”

Your brow furrowed. “Are you sure about this?”

“Really, it’s fine,” he reassured you. “It’s just one day.”

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” you said, seriously. 

He raised a curious eyebrow at your tone. 

“I mean, it’s just one of the nicest things,” you continued, blushing once again under his gaze. “You’re a very generous person, Gwilym.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “Or you’re just still getting used to kindness.”

You smiled, unwilling to go any deeper. 

“Let’s chalk it up to a combination of both,” you said lightly. 

You finished your coffees and headed to the door. He had to go to an interview and you were going to take Violet around the city since the weather was nice. As you hugged goodbye, you smiled up at him. 

“See you Saturday?” you asked. 

“Saturday,” he affirmed.

[stormtrprinstilettos]

“Move those hips like I know you can.” - Roger x fem!reader (smut)

Summary: It’s 1983 and Queen is recording their next album at the studio where you work, and things get a little heated between you and the drummer.

Word count: ~4.6K

Warnings: smut, age gap (21 vs. 35), smut, language, and smut. 18+ please and thank you

[A/N: I have no idea where this came from, but it happened. This is supposed to be a one shot, but if people want more, I can always keep the adventure going!]

You were stuck in an endless cycle of monotony. The same morning routine, the same route to work that seemed almost robotic (you didn’t even have to check the bus numbers anymore), same methodical system at your job, same route back home, and the same routine after getting back to your apartment. Change your clothes and laze around until bedtime. You had fallen into a monotonous routine on the weekends, too, since meeting a guy a couple of months ago. You’d wait for Alan to call, usually around 7:00 on Friday night, about an hour after you got home from work, and you’d meet him at the same bar, order the same drinks, stay for exactly two hours and fifteen minutes, then head back to your place. The only times things would change would be if you decided to have sex, and that was even monotonous.

This morning, though, was going to be the start of something different, or so you told yourself. Jack, one of the sound engineers at the studio where you worked as a glorified secretary, as you called yourself, agreed to let you sit in on a recording session today. Of course, he agreed before, but the artists who were recording on those days always seemed leery of letting you sit in. You weren’t sure why – it’s not like you were going to touch anything – but it always ended up happening where you’d be told “maybe next time.” The most you were ever allowed in was when you were delivering food or drinks or whatever other stupid things these prima donnas wanted.

Today, if this band said they didn’t want you there, you were going to put up an argument. Okay, so you were going to beg and promise not to do anything stupid. At least you were going to try not to do anything stupid. Jack was a little nervous about inviting you in – this was your favorite band, and he saw how nervous you’d get around people you weren’t even fans of, so he didn’t even want to imagine any possible catastrophe that could have happened if you became a bumbling idiot. “Come on, Jack,” you pleaded as you were literally on your knees begging. “I’ll probably be too scared to even say anything, let alone move. I’ll sit in the corner. I promise.”

Of course, as your luck would have it, the four members of your favorite band (and their manager) walked in as you were on your knees, begging and pleading and making promises you knew you never had any intention of fulfilling. In fact, the first time they saw you was when you were standing up from behind your desk as he was chuckling. Not exactly the first impression you wanted to give.

“Do you mind if she sits in with us today?” Jack asked them as you were standing up. “She won’t break anything.” You were too mortified to turn around, and they were too shocked to say anything. You wanted to cry and run away, but that would have made you look even worse. Jack started to howl with laughter. “This is not what it looks like.” You heard five men behind you all start to laugh, and you slowly turn around. “She was just being dramatic.”

“It may be nice to have new ears,” Freddie says with a chuckle. “What’s your name, darling?”

You were trying desperately not to bumble, instead forcing yourself to exude confidence and smile. “I’m Y/N,” you say as you hold out a hand to shake. “I, uh…” You want to die, right there in front of everyone, as your nerves start to take over.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Freddie says with a smile. “These are the others,” he waves his hand in their direction. “And I’m sure they won’t mind having you sit in with us either.” He turns to them. “Right?” They all smile and let you know that they don’t mind as they start to file in.

You quickly turn to Jack after they are out of your line of vision and slap him on the shoulder. “What the fuck, Jack? You could have told me they were walking in!” You’re still feeling absolutely mortified and want to cry. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?”

“No, I don’t, but it was funny as hell,” he says though his hard laughter. “Come on. Let’s go in.”

Your nerves started to subside after that first day when all you did was sit there in a daze. Sure, they just oozed rock star vibes, naturally, but once your brain fully comprehended the fact that you were indeed not dreaming and that you were really sitting in listening to and watching Queen make their music, you felt much calmer. And they did everything they could to make you feel at ease. John was the one who would make you giggle constantly with bad jokes. Brian was somewhat reserved, soft spoken, but he did chat you up with interesting conversation after finding out you were learning how to play guitar. Freddie made you feel like your presence was appreciated, always calling you in to ask your opinion on things, which he and the others did take into consideration. Then there was Roger, who was exactly how you imagined him to be when you’d fantasize about meeting them – a funny, eternal flirt. Not that you minded one bit. You were used to men flirting with you, and this was Roger fucking Taylor, the epitome of your teenage rockstar fantasy – like you were going to have a problem with him flirting with you. Much to your surprise, you had no problem dishing it back to him.

“Don’t you have better things you want to be doing right now?” he asks you that first Friday night they were recording. “I’m sure a pretty thing like you has someone else to be spending a Friday night with besides us two blokes,” he chuffed as he pointed behind the glass to John.

You shrug. “I’m quite enjoying myself right now,” you smile. “I find all of this interesting.” Your smile faded into a smirk. “Company’s good, too.”

“Yeah,” he smirks back. “I’ve no complaints.” The two of you were snapped out of your mutual flirting session by John, who was beckoning Roger for some help.

Jack wheels his chair back to where you are sitting and raises an eyebrow, and you raise one back. “You know his reputation,” he mumbles quietly. You roll your eyes, smirk and say nothing. He starts to laugh loudly. “I forgot who I’m talking to. You chew them up and spit them out with the best of them.”

“Jesus Christ, Jack,” you say a bit too loudly as you’re laughing too, catching the attention of Roger and John, who you didn’t realize were within listening range. “Why keep them around if they start to get boring?”

“We’re going to call it a day,” John said as he walked over to where you were, interrupting your conversation. “We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.” He and Roger walked out after saying their goodbyes, leaving you and Jack to straighten everything out before locking up.

Jack left first, leaving you behind to turn out the lights. When you walked out and locked the door, you heard a voice coming from behind you. “So what does Miss Y/N do around here on a Friday night?” It was Roger, and he startled you a little bit, giving the both of you quite a laugh.

“Usually? I just go down to the bar and have a few drinks. I’m not very adventurous,” you giggle.

“Ah, keep it simple,” he chuffed. “Care for some company?”

Really? you think to yourself. He wants to hang out with me? After getting over the initial shock, you nod your head. “Sure,” you smile. “But I must warn you – I’m quite boring.”

“Nah,” he chuckles and holds out his arm for you to lock yours into. “We’ll have fun I’m sure.”

When you walk into your usual hangout, it seems like all eyes turn to you. You don’t think anything of it – it’s full of all the same regulars as every other night. You exchange pleasantries with a few of them and lead Roger to the back corner after stopping at the bar to get drinks.

“Tell me about yourself,” he says. “Other than work, what do you get up to?”

You roll your eyes, unamused. “This,” you say as you wave your hands around. “Work and this pretty much consumes my time.” You raise your brow. “Told you. I’m quite boring.”

He started to laugh. “You live in Los Angeles. There’s a lot you can get into over here.”

“I hate it here,” you mumble. “I’m only here for this stupid job, and it doesn’t seem like I’m ever going to get where I want to be.” His face turns concerned. “I’m sorry. There’s no need to start my whining,” you chuckle, but he gives you a look that tells you he wants to hear what you have to say. “I took the assistant job at the studio with the understanding that I was going to be shown the actual workings. So far, that hasn’t happened.”

“You seem to be learning things?”

“All I’m doing is watching,” you shrug. “But at least I get to do that.”

“I’ll make sure you get to do more than just watch.” There was a different tone in his voice when he told you that. It went beyond flirtation, and you didn’t know if he was even talking about the studio anymore. You were staring into each other’s eyes and smirking, forgetting that other people were around. He inches his hand closer to yours on top of the table, making sure he grazed just close enough to barely touch you. What the fuck is happening right now? you screamed internally, hoping your face didn’t let on that you were giddy as hell.

Just then, there’s a tap on your shoulder. You turn and see Alan. “I was calling you, but I guess you didn’t answer because you’re already here.” Your head falls into your hands. “Who is this?” he asks as he points to Roger.

You bite your top lip in annoyance and look up to him. “This is Roger and we’re…”

“… on a date,” Roger finishes, smiling at you.

“A date?” Alan yells. “So you’re cheating on me with this old guy?”

“Cheating?” You say with a hearty laugh. Roger leans back and crosses his arms, clearly amused but not saying a word.

Alan is upset. “But… we…”

“We fuck when I want to fuck, Alan. That’s all we do.” You’re looking up at him with sheer annoyance, hoping he walks away while he still has a small amount of dignity left.

“But you told me…” he starts to whine, annoying you even more.

“Oh, come on. I never made you any promises,” you pop back, rolling your eyes.

“You said you enjoy my company, and we…”

“We fuck. That’s it. I’ll say anything as long as the dick is big enough.” You wave him away.

Alan stomps away, feeling humiliated and Roger roars with laughter. “That was brutal, Y/N. Where has this person been hiding? Who knew you had it in you to be vicious?” He leaned over the table and looked at you curiously. “This is probably rude, but how old are you anyway?”

“That’s quite rude,” you chuckle, “and I’m 21.”

People start to recognize him and begin to stare and whisper. “Everyone’s looking at you,” he jokes.

“They’re not looking at me. They see me all the time. Probably wondering what I’m doing here with an old guy,” you giggle. People start to approach him at the table. He takes it in stride at first, but you can tell he’s starting to get a little bit annoyed. “Want to get out of here?” you ask with a whisper.

He nods his head and you get up from the table and head outside. “So where else does Miss Y/N go on a Friday night?” he asks as you start to walk down the street.

“Told you. The bar and home. That’s my fun filled evenings,” you shrugged.

“Let’s go, then.” He smirks as you look up at him. “Seriously. Let’s go. Show me boring. I haven’t had boring since ‘68.”

“Would you like something to drink? Eat?” you ask after walking in your apartment.

“No, thanks.” He walks over to your stereo and starts glancing over your music collection, quite impressed by the organization of it all. “Alphabetical order. Nice,” he chuckles, rubbing his finger starting at letter A and stopping when he gets to the Q. “Ah, I see you’re a fan of those idiots from England,” he laughs. “They’re alright.”

The whole moment is completely surreal to you. This whole week had been, but right now – right this second – was more surreal than anything else that had happened. Roger Taylor, in your living room, looking at your music collection – in your living room. He comes and sits down right next to you on the sofa. “Do you want the TV on?” you ask, quietly as he inches himself as close to you as possible. He smiles and shakes his head no, as he brings a hand up to your hair. You take a deep breath, trying hard to mask your nerves, but you’re not doing a very good job. You just know he can hear your heart beating in your chest.

“Am I making you nervous?” he chuckles. “You don’t have to be nervous.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…” He takes his hand away from your hair and moves it down your arm, taking hold of your hand. You start to giggle. “This is 16-year-old me’s fantasy right now.” You start to feel your face flush with embarrassment and you look down, unable to control your nervous giggle.

“Well,” he starts with a soft tone in his voice. “21-year-old you gets to live it out.” He lifts your chin, making your eyes meet with his, as he smiles gently. “If she wants to, of course, help 35-year-old me live out his.” He can see the somewhat baffled look come across your face. “What?” he laughs. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed my relentless attempts to be as close to you as I could possibly get.”

“Me?” you ask, laughing. “I’m your fantasy?”

“I’ve been thinking about all the things I want to do to you since I saw you on Monday, Y/N,” he says with a raspy, throaty tone as he smirks mischievously.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, biting your bottom lip, completely forgetting your nerves. “Like what?”

“Should start with a kiss, yeah?” he says as he leans in to you, taking your lips in his, giving you the most tingling sensation you’ve ever felt from anyone before. His lips are soft and soothing, and feel like velvet against yours. You move a hand to the back of his neck, gently rubbing your fingernails against the bottom of his hair, as he moves a hand behind your head, gently rubbing on your scalp. You don’t break the kiss as you move to straddle his lap, making it easier for you to kiss him. You pull back gently to look at him, making sure this is actually happening. He smiles and puts his hands on your hips as you lean back in for more kissing. “I saw you dancing through the window yesterday,” he sneered with a smile. “Move those hips like I know you can.” He starts to nudge your hips back and forth as you smirk at him, and you get the hint to keep moving as he runs his hands up your back, lifting your shirt up in the process. You pull out of the kiss again so he can take your shirt off, staring deep into each other’s eyes, letting each other know exactly how far you want this to go.

You hold his face in your hands as your hips continue to rock and you kiss him deeply, harder than before, as his hands move back onto your hips. “I know you want more than this,” you breathlessly whisper before climbing off him and kneeling down in front of him. “Unless…” your voice trails away as you start to unbutton his pants. “Unless this isn’t part of your fantasy.” You smirk as you continue undoing his pants.

“Oh no,” he chuffs. “You’re doing just fine.” He lets out a tiny gasp as your hand slides into his pants and touches his cock, pulling it out, as he tilts his hips up and starts to pull down his pants with your help. You hold his length in your hand, rubbing up and down, watching it grow with every stroke, a drop of precum releasing from the tip.

“You don’t mind, do you?” you jokingly ask with a grin before placing your tongue on top and slowly licking it away, taking great pleasure in knowing that your tongue caused him to buck his hips closer to you.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps as your warm mouth wraps around him. You hold on to his hips to steady yourself as you move back and forth along his member as he gently holds a grasp on your hair. “You’re good at this,” he chuckles, causing you to giggle with your mouth full. “Mmm, stop,” he commands you as you lift your head up and make a subtle pop when you take his cock out of your mouth. “Don’t want to waste this,” he chuffed as he leans up to meet you, kissing you before growling in your ear.

You fake a pout. “But I was just getting started,” you say with a fake whine before you start giggling.

“Your turn, baby girl,” he whispers, guiding you to stand up in front of him as he grabs the waist of your pants. “We don’t need these anymore, do we?” He raises an eyebrow and smirks as he starts to pull them down, admiring every single inch of you standing before him. He runs a hand up your thigh and over to your mound, lightly grazing your folds, lightly touching your clit with the tip of his thumb. “Already wet for me, hmm?” he mumbles as you bite your lip and smirk at him. “Good girl.” He reaches behind you and pulls you closer to him, softly kissing your belly button as one hand wanders back to your flower, being ever so gentle as he rubs around, exploring with great concentration. “Not here,” he whispers as he looks up into your gazing eyes. “Show me your bedroom.” He holds you as he pushes you back so he can stand up, kissing you when his mouth reaches yours.

When you walked into your room, you turned to him as you unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the ground on its on fruition. His gaze instantly focused on your breasts before looking back up into your eyes and a breath stuck in his throat. “You, Y/N. You’re fucking beautiful.” He smiles and slowly walks towards you, a slight smirk across his mouth, taking off his shirt, and taking note of the proximity of the bed from where you’re standing.

He grabs your shoulders and pushes you down on the bed, catching you by surprise. “All you had to do was ask,” you say with a laugh. You lean up on your elbows, scoot up further into the bed and look at him, still trying to wrap it around your brain that this was actually happening.

As he crawls closer to you, his smirk grows bigger. “I want to taste you now,” he growls as he parts your legs and starts to kiss your inner thighs. He moves closer, and you can feel his breath at your core, before he parts the lips and continuing his earlier exploration, this time using his tongue. He was clearly experienced, as he took no time before directing his attention to your clit, making sure he spent the perfect amount of time both circling with the tip of his tongue and softly caressing it with his tongue flattened.

You moan and arch your back. “Oh fuck, Roger,” you groan as you grab hold of his hair.

“Mmm,” he chuckles. “Like that, do you?” You can’t answer. Every sound you want to make is locked in your throat. “You taste so fucking good,” he groaned before he started to suck gently on your lips before sucking gently on your clit. He moved the fingers he was using to hold your lips apart down to your entrance, and you let out a loud groan as your thighs began to twitch as he inserted one finger. “That’s right,” he whispered. “Good girl.”

You look down to him and see his eyes looking up at you, and you can feel his smile against you as he continues to work his tongue on your pussy. “Fuck,” you moan with a giggle as your head falls back onto the bed. “You’re good.” You raise yourself up so you can watch him again.

He moved his head back, smile still across his face, and he inserted another finger inside of you. “Cum for me,” he groaned, curling his fingers deep inside of you as he lowers his mouth back down onto your essence.

“Oh, fuck!” you scream out, becoming a complete puddle of ecstasy. He holds his free hand on your stomach, making sure you can’t move away, still thrusting his fingers in and out, never moving his mouth from your clit, riding out your orgasm with you.

When you finally came down from your high, he got up on his knees, his pleased smile not leaving his face as he looked down at your exhausted body while his fingers kept pumping inside of you. “Mmm,” he chuckles as he leans down for a kiss. “Hope you’re not too tired,” he said with a raspy whisper. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“You better not be,” you say, breathless, as you bite your bottom lip. “16-year-old me fantasized about more than that,” you giggle.

“Good,” he grumbles as he kisses your neck, his fingers still moving inside of you. “Because 35-year-old me fantasized about doing more.” He quickly pulled his fingers out and started to rub his cock against your wetness. He knelt up between your legs, raising them and resting your calves on his shoulders before slowly entering you, teasing you first with the head before pushing the shaft all the way in, both of you taking a deep breath at the same time, never taking your eyes off of each other. “So fucking tight,” he grunted as he slowly thrusted his cock in and out.

Your hands run up and down his back, your nails digging in to his skin. He clearly likes that, because every time you grab him with your nails, he starts to thrust faster and faster. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, grunting and trying to control himself as much as he can. “You feel so good inside me,” you loudly whisper in his ear, nibbling at the lobe before pulling back with your teeth still clinched. His thrust gets slower, trying to pace himself to make it last longer. He looks up at you, his face flushed with heat and sweat, and he pulls himself out of you, going back up to his knees. You scoot up and sit, never taking your eyes off of his. “Take me from behind,” you say as you get on your knees as well.

He leans in to you, holding you close, molding your bodies together, and gives you a deep, passionate kiss. “No,” he tells you. “I want to see your face when you cum for me again.” He lays on his back, and you climb on top, slowly lowering yourself onto his shaft. He raises his hands and grabs your breasts, twisting your nipples in between his thumbs and forefingers. “Move those hips like I know you can,” he says with a smile. You start to rock back and forth, grinning wickedly as you bite your bottom lip. “Good girl,” he coos, pinching your nipples even harder, eliciting a small whine from your mouth.

You lean back and hold yourself up with your hands on both sides of his legs as you keep rocking and rolling your hips in a circular motion. “You like that?” you ask as you look down to him, watching his face as he smiles and nods his head as best he can. You grab one of his hands and move it down to your mound, and he takes the hint and starts to softly massage your clit with his thumb. “Mmm, yeah. Like that,” you whisper.

“You’re such a naughty little minx,” he growls as he watches you pleasuring yourself with his dick. He can feel your walls start to clinch and he knows you’re getting close to orgasm. “Cum for me,” he tells you. “Cum all over my cock.”

You sit up, moving your hands up to your breasts. “Make me,” you purr seductively. He grabs your back and pulls you down toward him, kissing you heavily, your tongues wrapping together as you moan in unison. He starts to buck his hips and thrashes into you, forcing himself inside of you as deep as he can go. “Fuck, Roger,” you groan. “Fucking pound me,” you instruct him.

“Dirty girl,” he hisses in your ear. “Such a dirty girl with that tight pussy.” His speed quickens and you know he won’t last much longer. His breathing is getting harder, louder, and he’s about to lose all control. Your walls tighten as he grabs you harder, the sound of you slapping against each other and your mornings fill the room as you push hard against each other. His panting and moaning gets louder, and you scream out his name as your body starts to shake before your muscles contract around him as he cums hard inside of you, filling you with his warm seed, meeting your orgasm at the same time.

You sit up, not moving him out of you and push your hair out of your face, looking down on him with a smile as you let out a giggle. “Yeah, that was much better than what I imagined it would be,” you joke, making him laugh.

He reached up and grabbed your waist, rolling you onto your back as he moved to hover over you before giving you quick pecking kisses on your neck and collarbone as you giggled. “Told you we’d have fun,” he smirked. He laid down on his back next to you and smiled. “Strawberries,” he mumbled as he turned his head to look at you. “You smell like strawberries.” You started to laugh. “I happen to love strawberries.”

Early next afternoon you went into work, happier than usual. It was a Saturday, and you normally wouldn’t be there, but they were planning on recording again, so you wanted to make sure everything was in order when they arrived in an hour. Jack came in a few minutes before they did. “Had a nice night?” he asked, and you started to get flustered, suspicious that he knew what you got into and with whom. “What? You’re radiating. Alan must have done a good job, that’s all,” he said with a laugh. You said nothing, opting to give him a smirk instead. When you looked up, you saw Roger and John walk in, followed by Brian and Freddie. You and Roger immediately locked eyes and shared the same subtle smirk. Jack noticed. “Oh, fuck, Y/N, you didn’t.” He started to laugh and slapped his forehead.

“Shut up, Jack,” you giggled as they walked into the recording room.

Everyone said hello, and Roger walked over to you and leaned in your ear. “I’m still not done with you,” he whispered and winked.

“Good,” you whisper back. “Because I’m not done with you either.”

He smirked as he murmurs in your ear again. “You’ll say anything as long as the dick is big enough.”

“Yeah,” you wryly reply. “I guess it’s a good thing you know what you’re doing then.”

Brian walks over and clears his throat. “You ready to get started, Rog? Or do you need a moment?” He grins at the two of you, completely aware of what went on last night.

“Go home,” Roger quietly tells you. “You’ll need to rest up for later.” You start to say something, but he stops you. “There’s a present on your desk,” he grins and walks away to join everyone else.

When you get to your desk, there’s a box wrapped in pink paper and a lime green bow. You look at it curiously with a quiet laugh before opening it. Inside there’s a t-shirt with a cartoon strawberry on the front. You look up through the window and see Roger watching you with a smile. He winks at you before turning his attention to his work. You shake your head, smiling, and gather up your things and head home. He’s the one who needs to make sure he’s rested up, you giggle to yourself, already getting flushed imagining what you’ll be getting up to tonight.

[part 2 >>]

[mercurysnitch]

Though You’re Many Years Away Part 1

Pairing: 70s!Roger Taylor x Reader (I pictured real Roger, but it could work with BenHardy!Roger as well)

Summary: Reader ends up getting a lot more than she bargained for when she somehow travels to 1974 and sees Queen live at the Rainbow.

Author’s note: This is the first fic I’ve ever written, so I’m a little bit nervous to post it, but what the hell. It was just a weird idea I had that I just had to write. It was planned to be a one-shot, but it’s getting so long I’ve decided to split it up into a short series. Probably 4 parts, maybe 5. Don’t think too hard about how the time travel works, it’ll make your brain hurt. The mechanics that are explained (or at least will be in the next part) are inspired by the time travel in @angrylizardjacket‘s Ben x Reader x 70s Roger stories (go check them out, they’re great :-) ) Also a bit inspired by the book ‘The Time Traveller’s Wife’, which is a bit weird, but very good. This part includes the first smut I’ve ever written, so sorry if that bit’s not great. Please comment or reblog, I would love to get feedback on this. Italics indicate reader’s thoughts, stars indicate a time skip (there’s a lot of them, sorry if it’s a bit choppy in places)

Warnings: Swearing, some drinking, little bit of smut (literally one paragraph, so just skip it if you’re not interested), mentions of pregnancy, tiny bit of vomiting

You weren’t sure how you ended up on a park bench in an unknown location. All you remembered was a feeling like you were falling down into the centre of the earth, and then waking up with a pounding head, in a strange place. Looking around, you noticed the sun seemed to be getting low, throwing a golden evening light on your surroundings. You could see a main road, and a little cluster of men in half-open shirts and flared jeans, smoking cigarettes. Wait, isn’t that illegal in public? And flares? Must be a 70s party nearby, you thought. Cautiously, you stood up from the bench, stretching experimentally. Your head spun a little, but you soon felt stable enough to start walking. You quickly decided to follow the crowd of people flooding down the main road. Most of them seemed to be heading in the same direction. Must be something on tonight, you thought. Might as well go, it might help me work out where the hell I am.

Suddenly, you found yourself outside an old-fashioned theatre. It seemed to be called the Rainbow, judging by the signs. The hoardings showing the names of upcoming acts contained a single word in big letters: Queen. No way, you thought. Queen were one of your favourite bands, and now you’d stumbled on one of their gigs? What a coincidence. You shuffled forward with the crowd, managing to slip in past the ticket sellers unnoticed. Thank god, I couldn’t pay them even if I wanted to. Suddenly you noticed something: more flares. Nearly everyone around you seemed to be wearing flares. There was a lot of long wavy hair about too, on the men as well as the women. That’s weird, you mused, is it a tribute gig or something? Your mind was humming with confusion as you moved with the crowd into the auditorium, when a sudden thought nearly stopped you in your tracks. Queen at the Rainbow. Why does that sound familiar? Queen at the Rainbow. Queen at the – Oh that’s right, there’s a live album, you remembered. Queen at the Rainbow ’74. Wait, ’74? They played the Rainbow in 1974. Realisation hit you like a freight train. I can’t be in 1974, I just can’t be. How could I be in 1974? How did I get here?

You were startled out of your shocked trance by a loud cheer. The music had started, and the band soon appeared, to another cheer, even louder than before. Once they started to play, there was no disputing it. You were watching early Queen, deep in their ‘glam rock’ phase. Freddie Mercury was utterly recognisable with his long dark hair, eyeliner and black-painted nails. Fuck, I’m at a Queen show in 1974. After a couple of songs you decided to accept whatever glitch in the universe had brought you here and just enjoy the show. It was a great show too. You had always wished you could have seen Queen play with Freddie, but knew it would never be possible. You hadn’t even been born for many years after Queen’s last concert in 1986, indeed, by the time you were born Freddie Mercury was dead. And yet, here you were watching him perform live, utterly entranced.

All too soon, the show was over. The buzzing crowd flooded out of the theatre and into a pub down the street. You went with them, wondering if the band would follow. Sure enough, all four members of Queen soon appeared in the pub, to scattered cheers and raised glasses. You headed for the bar, hoping somebody might buy you a drink. You would have bought one yourself but you had no money on you. It seemed you had travelled to 1974 with only the clothes on your back. You found a stool in a quiet corner and settled in to people watch. You had a feeling, a gut feeling you supposed, that this little trip to the 70s wasn’t going to last very long, so you decided you might as well soak it up while you could. Your stool coincidentally gave you an excellent view of the table all four members of Queen had chosen to sit at. They looked relaxed, rapidly emptying beers in hand, surrounded by a veritable flock of admiring girls. You started to scan the rest of the pub, soaking up the vibe, when you noticed movement at the band’s table. Someone was coming to the bar, heading almost directly for you. You turned towards them, and saw long golden hair and an open shirt weaving towards you.

You’d always thought early-70s Roger Taylor was the best looking member of Queen. Well, the early 70s was their best-looking era in your opinion, but the golden-haired, blue-eyed drummer was clearly the most attractive. Not that the rest of them weren’t easy on the eyes, but Roger was definitely your favourite. Now you were in a pub in 1974, and he was walking straight towards you. Well shit. This could be interesting.

He came up to the bar next to your stool. “Another round of beers thanks” he asked the bartender. Suddenly he turned to you, almost as if he could feel your eyes on you. “Hello” he said gently, “I’m Roger.” He held his hand out to you, smiling cheekily…flirtatiously? “Y/N. Hi” You shook his hand uncertainly. He continued to smile at you, his eyes crinkling, until you glanced down from his gaze, grinning nervously. “You’re cute. Can I buy you a drink?” Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice. He was definitely flirting now. “Okay. Gin and tonic please” You asked, smiling brightly. Roger added your order to his beers and turned back to you. “What brings a pretty girl like you to a pub like this?” The cheeky grin had reappeared. “I, um, I saw the band before. Good show, by the way” you stuttered, suddenly unsure what to say. His smile widened. “You’re a fan then?” Oh, if you only knew, you thought dreamily. “I guess you could say that” you responded, now smiling flirtatiously yourself. “Well then, what’s your favourite-” Roger’s question was cut off by the sudden reappearance of the bartender. You grabbed your drink while he gathered up the beers. “Want to meet the rest of the band?” He asked as he carefully stood up, laden with glasses. You jumped off your stool, careful not to spill any of your drink. “I’d love to” you beamed, perhaps a little too enthusiastic. Roger didn’t notice though, leading carefully back through the crowd to Queen’s table. Shit, you thought frantically, I’m going to meet Queen. Queen! Oh God, what do I say? I can’t mention the future, what if I break time or something? Have to be careful. Shit. Shit. 

“More drinks! Lovely! About time Roger, what were you doing over there darling?” Freddie grinned mischievously from the opposite side of his table as he spotted you shuffling along behind his bandmate. Roger rolled his eyes. “Oh shut it Fred. Everyone, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Freddie, obviously, that’s Brian” -  the gangly, curly-haired guitarist waved cheerfully from his seat on Freddie’s left – “and that’s John. But we all call him Deaky” The bassist nodded shyly from Freddie’s other side, tucked into the corner. It took most of your determination not to gush hopelessly over the. Actual. Real-life. Queen. But you managed it. Just. “Hi” you said shyly. Roger, now carrying only a single drink in one hand, wrapped his free arm reassuringly around your waist. It felt… nice. “Um, I really enjoyed the show tonight” you nearly squeaked out, trying not to gabble. Freddie smiled. “I’m glad. What’s your favourite song then?” You tried to think quickly. Fuck, I have to make sure it’s something that actually exists in 1974. Shit. Shit. “Ahh… Liar? It rocks, I guess…” This response seemed to please Freddie. “Finally” he said dramatically, “someone who appreciates my art. Good work Roger” You could have sworn he winked on the last word. The drummer rolled his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation. He quickly drained his pint, slamming the empty glass on the table. “Shut it Fred” He glared at the dark-haired singer, who just smiled naughtily. “I need some fresh air. Come on” Roger pulled you along with him as he moved towards the door of the crowded pub. You followed enthusiastically, finishing your drink on the way and setting the glass down as you passed an empty table.

The air outside was crisp and cool enough to be refreshing without chilling you to the bone. “Sorry about that” Roger murmured, gazing intently at your face. “It’s okay” you murmured back, looking into those gorgeous blue eyes. Suddenly they glinted with mischief. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” He asked, leaning down. “Yes” you breathed. His lips were on yours in an instant. It was blissful. He was insistent, but not rough. You opened your lips for him and quickly felt his tongue gently exploring your mouth. Holy fuck, I’m kissing the Roger Taylor. In 1974. Holy fuck. Your brain quickly slipped from frantic babbling to incoherent screaming as you felt Roger’s hands curl around your waist and brush along your back. Suddenly Roger broke the kiss. You nearly whined at the loss of contact. “Wanna come home with me, continue this there?” he asked huskily. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be in 1974, you mused. Might as well enjoy it while I’m here. “I’d love to” you replied breathily. “Great!” Roger smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Let’s just tell the others we’re going.”

You could barely contain your excitement as you arrived at Roger’s flat. Holy shit, your brain gabbled, Roger Taylor’s taking me back to his place. The Roger Taylor. Is taking me home. Holy fucking shit. When you arrived at his front door, he pushed you against it and snogged you senseless for the second time that night. He broke the kiss for a few seconds to open the door, holding you close all the while, then pushed you through it, his lips on yours again. You kissed frantically as you crossed his loungeroom, shedding clothes all the while. By the time you fell onto his couch together, both of you were in your underwear. You mentally thanked God you weren’t wearing anything noticeably out of place in 1974, although you thought Roger was unlikely to notice at this point. Roger lay on top of you, his face inches from yours. You could feel him against your stomach getting harder by the second. “Want me to show you a good time?” he growled, voice raspy with lust. “Why else would I be here?” you replied cheekily. “Well, if you’re going to be like that,” he grinned momentarily, then kissed a sensitive spot on your neck, smiling at the way you moaned at the sensation. He dotted kisses along your body, his fingers trailing the path of his mouth, until he arrived at your entrance, already slick with arousal. He grinned up at you, eyes now hooded with desire. “Do you want me to make you feel good?” he asked huskily, gently running his fingers along your folds. You moaned in delight at the stimulation. “I need you to use your words, love” “Yes, Roger, keep going, please” You moaned out the last word as Roger put his lips to your clit, licking at it expertly. You nearly screamed when he plunged a rough, calloused finger into you moments later. “You like that, babe?” “Yes, Roger, don’t stop-” Your words drowned in another moan as he added a second finger, dragging them gently across your dripping walls. His other hand held your hips down as his fingers roamed your walls until they found the spot that made you cry out with pleasure. He rubbed the spot in delicate circles while his tongue continued to lick at your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure. It wasn’t long before you felt your climax begin to crash over you. Roger coaxed you through it, licking at you until you whined from overstimulation. As you came down from quite possibly the quickest orgasm you had ever experienced, you realised again that Roger Taylor had just eaten you out like a bloody expert. Looks like 1974’s gonna be fun after all, you thought happily.

***                                         

You awoke the next morning feeling strange. You were disoriented at first, until you remembered where you were. And when. I slept with Roger Taylor last night. I’m in Roger Taylor’s bed. In 1974. Holy shit, I just fucked the drummer from Queen. Wow. You stifled a satisfied giggle, not wanting to disturb the snoring man beside you. Even when he’s asleep he’s fucking gorgeous, you realised. You eased yourself out of bed very gently so as not to wake Roger. But as soon as you stepped away from the bed you felt weird. Very weird. Sort of… insubstantial, like you weren’t entirely there. Suddenly you just knew you were about to be pulled back to your time. Shit. My clothes are in the other room. You bolted out into the loungeroom and gathered your clothes in a flash. Oh no, I won’t get to say goodbye. He’ll hate me. Oh shit, what do I do? At that moment your eye fell on a notebook and pen sitting on the coffee table. You darted over, clinging carefully to your clothing, and scribbled out a note as quickly as you could. I stayed as long as I could. It’s complicated. I’m sorry. Y/N xx You barely finished the last x before you felt yourself lurching forward, feeling like you were falling again. You dropped the pen as you fell into darkness.

You opened your eyes to a familiar sight. Your own white-painted bedroom, in your own flat. You were home. The light streaming through the gap in the blinds indicated it was morning. Suddenly you remembered something. You’d had plans last night, before you went to 1974. You were supposed to go out for drinks with some friends. Wait what day is it? Where’s my phone? Retrieving it from your bedside table, you saw a stream of messages and multiple missed calls waiting for you. Shit, how long was I gone? You checked the date. The day you disappeared was only yesterday. You breathed a sigh of relief. Aside from the friends you were supposed to meet last night, no-one would have noticed your absence. You immediately sent a message to the group chat apologising for missing last night, claiming you were sick yesterday, and had gone to sleep for so long you’d missed all their messages and calls until now. You thought it was a pretty weak excuse, but your friends seemed to believe it. Besides, it was very unusual for you to even cancel plans ahead of time, let alone ghost on them completely, so you were fairly sure you’d get away with it this time.

Lying in your own bed, in your own flat, in your own time, you weren’t entirely sure your whole 1974 experience hadn’t been some weird intense dream. Maybe you really were sick yesterday, and it was just an unusually vivid fever dream. I don’t remember feeling sick yesterday though. You got out of bed gingerly, feeling sore as you turned around and stood up. If it was just a dream, why am I sore? Glancing down as you started to move, you noticed a mark on your hip. You rushed to your mirror. The shape was unmistakable. It was definitely a hickey. You could see one high up on your inner thigh too. And you remembered exactly how you got them. So it wasn’t a dream then. It really happened. It all really happened.

***                                             

You never told anyone about your little trip to the past. No one would have believed you if you did. As time went on, you sometimes didn’t believe it yourself. It just seemed to incredible to be true. Even if it was true, the question remained: how did it happen? And why did you go to that particular day in 1974, when Queen just happened to be playing? Was it just a coincidence? Or was something more going on? If there was, you had no idea what it could be. In any case, after many days of contemplation you decided you were better off chalking the whole adventure up to experience and moving on with your life. Little did you know, that would be far more difficult than you ever could have expected…

***

You slipped back into your routine easily once you decided to get on with life. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. Your friends, thankfully, didn’t make a big deal out of your non-appearance that one night. You weren’t entirely convinced they believed your excuse, but they seemed happy enough to let it slide anyway. They even invited you out again a few weeks later. Clearly you were forgiven. You had fun that night, even if you spent a lot of it feeling decidedly odd. Not drunk – you restricted yourself to one glass of wine, you weren’t in the mood to get messy – just… not quite right. The feeling was still present when you woke up the next morning, but a glance at your calendar indicated your period was due about now. That explains it then. Just good old PMS. You hoped you’d start to feel more normal once your monthly visitor showed up.

A week later, though, and it hadn’t arrived yet. Maybe the time travel’s thrown me off? It must have affected my body somehow… But then a week late all too quickly turned into two, with no signs of change yet. The overlong cycle didn’t bother you much – cycles could be weird sometimes after all – until the day you went to eat some yoghurt for breakfast only to be wracked by a huge wave of nausea the second the smell of it hit you. You dropped your breakfast instantly and sprinted for the bathroom. Small and old-fashioned though it was, you always found the discoloured white tiles rather soothing. As you cleaned yourself up a few minutes later, enjoying the cool tiles against your feet, something suddenly clicked in your head. Oh shit, you thought with alarm, I’m two weeks late and the smell of yoghurt just made me throw up. I can’t be pregnant though, surely? I haven’t been with anyone in months. Except… prompted a voice in your head. Roger Taylor. In 1974. But that can’t have… seriously? I fucking time travel to the past for one night, one fucking night, and end up pregnant by a bloody rockstar? Seriously universe? Wait… Didn’t we use protection though? Now you came to think of it, you definitely remembered condoms being used at some point that night, but your memory was a bit fuzzy from about round three onwards. Round three… you smirked. Shit, that was a good night. Not now! snapped an angry voice in your head. Suddenly you crashed back to earth, feeling sick again. As you bent down to empty your stomach into the toilet once again, a single thought ran through your mind. Holy fuck, this can’t be happening.

Part 2 is coming soon! Please comment or reblog and tell me what you think!