moonlit-witches

i want daisies in my hair, peace in my soul, and love in my heart. | 24. Taurus.

183 posts

Stages Of Falling In Love [1/2]

Stages of Falling in Love [1/2]

▶ Summary: in which we follow the stages roger taylor took to fall completely and utterly in love; part 1 of 2

▶ A/N: i have not written a single thing in about two years, pls forgive whatever this is but i had to write it bc ben hardy looks so good with Long Hairs don’t @ me

▶ Warnings: angst, fluff, alcohol, smoking, language, mentions of shenanigans if you know what i mean, and like two (2) mentions of the marijuana

▶ Pairing: Hardy!Roger Taylor x Reader

▶ Word Count: 3.9k+

[part two]

Stage One.

The pub was crowded, as it always was on nights that a band was playing. Bodies swarmed between tables and the ground shook from the stamping of the patron’s feet. You nervously chewed your lip as your friend pulled you through the mass of people towards the counter. It wasn’t your idea to come to the bar tonight, in fact, with your looming humanities exam the next Monday, you would rather have been back in your dorm studying with your roommate for the remainder of the evening. However, since your best friend had recently been dumped and had formed an inkling to get back into the dating scene, she had decided mingling at the gig of the up and coming band Queen would be the perfect opportunity to meet someone. And you, always being the one to go the extra mile for a friend, had agreed to come with, if only to be the other girl’s wingman.

When the two of you finally broke through to the bar’s counter, your friend ordered the both of you a round of tequila shots and a pink lady cocktail, neither of which you were fond of, but you clinked glasses with your friend with zero complaints. As you recognized the burn of alcohol in your chest, you turned towards the stage to finally get a glimpse of the band performing. Your eyes traveled from the flamboyantly dressed lead singer, smiling as his performance shined in the dimly lit pub, to the curly haired guitarist whose long fingers reached chords that ripped through at an angered pace. You followed the guitarist as he strutted across the stage to stand beside the bass player, who smiled lazily as he followed the drum’s beat. This was when your gaze finally strayed to the blond drummer. The man’s wavy hair was wild as he moved his head with the beat of the song. His movements were fast and fingers nimble as they danced across the drum set, seemingly effortlessly. Your knees began to grow weak as you stared, not a care in the world except for the sweet face that was sat behind the cymbals.

A touch on your arm reluctantly caused you to tear from your haze, as you turned to see what had caught your friend’s attention. She pointed to the dance floor, and you nodded, throwing back the rest of your drink quickly as you headed towards the center of the crowd. As the band played, you swayed your hips to the beat and took a hit off a blunt that was being passed among the masses. Your friend giggled at the sight of you beginning to let go, which didn’t happen all that often. About halfway through the band’s set, your head was rightfully buzzing with alcohol and you whispered to your friend that you were going to move to the edge of the crowd. After receiving a reply of confirmation, you made your way to the front, near the stage, your eyes again finding a certain drummer. This time, however, you were surprised to see his gaze snag with yours for a second before falling back to the instrument in front of him. You blushed despite yourself but could not refrain from continuing your previous actions. In fact, the following minute, he sent a bold smirk in your direction. This time your entire body seemed to flush.

After chugging some water, and willing yourself to forget the light haired boy on stage, you slowly moved back towards your friend to carry on dancing for the rest of the show. In what felt like mere minutes, Queen had finished their set, and the spotlights were extinguished. The crowd moaned gleefully in unison as they applauded the performance. Your friend snaked her arm through your own before pushing towards the bar to grab a nightcap before heading back towards campus, and your head glanced again towards the drum mounts. You tried to ignore the sinking in your chest at the sight of the abandoned instruments.

From behind you, a husky voice inquired, “Looking for me?”

Your friend turned around first, spotting the blonde’s gaze locked on you before nudging you. Startled, you followed the girl’s opened mouth ogle to the person beyond your shoulder, finally registering that the quip from before was aimed at you. Standing before you, was the drummer of Queen who had previously caught your attention on stage. Your lips quirked in an embarrassed little smile before you shrugged nonchalantly.

This caused the man to send a grin back, as his gaze swelled with a roguish glint. “Care if I buy you and your friend a drink?”

Slowly, you nodded; finally addressing your friend for a look of approval as this was supposed to be her night of fun. She broadly smiled back before leading the way to the bar in search of the nearest available bartender. Once one was located, the drummer ordered the drinks before turning towards you again. Your friend excused herself quickly, claiming to spot another friend from uni in the crowd and disappearing.

“I’m Roger,” he introduced, following your lips as they wrapped around the straw of your drink.

“Y/N,” you replied, inclining your head to study his ruffled hair and blue eyes. “Your show sure was something else, Roger.”

His face contorted in surprise, as he uncertainly thanked you.

“It was a compliment, I promise,” you chuckled. “I just meant that energy. You all really know how to win over a crowd.”

“Did we win you over?” he quirked immediately, taking a long drink from his beer, his eyes never leaving yours.

You purse your lips in fake contemplation. “Remains to be seen, drummer boy.”

This earned you a wide smirk that sent shivers down your spine, and you returned it slyly before scanning the pub again. You watched as the lead singer of Queen chatted with the friend you had came with and you found yourself relieved that she was having her own fun while you were off making your own. You were a bit surprised that the drummer was speaking with you after the show, however. You knew that he could have had a go with any of the other girls that milled about, but somehow your company was the one that preoccupied his time. You grinned with this newfound confidence, and leaned into his shoulder, asking a feathery question in his ear about stepping outside to share a smoke. He quickly agreed, taking your soft hand in his calloused one, to which you melted, staring at his striped wristbands.

Stepping outside, a spring breeze meets both of you as you stumbled into the alley beside the pub, Roger pulling out a cigarette, and you reaching into your pocket for a light. After the both of you had taken a drag, you leaned into the wall behind you, and sighed heavily in the cool evening. “You know,” you mused, feeling the buzz of the night in your bloodstream. “You’re obnoxiously attractive.”

He let out a breathy laugh, letting the smoke dangle lazily between his loose lips. “Oh, love, the same could easily be said about you.”

Your nose crinkled sheepishly, as you plucked the cancer stick back, mumbling something about beauty being in the eye of the beholder.

Roger moved in closer, his lips an inch from yours. “Well, since I’m the beholder, I think that you are by far the most striking thing to walk into that bar tonight.” As the last word echoed into existence, you moved your mouth onto his in a desperate attempt to immortalize the statement. He eagerly responded, his own lips moving feverishly against yours, the taste of liquor, ash, and a bit of weed on one another’s breath. He pulled away with resistance, lips still touching as he softly asked if you wanted to take this back to his place.

You nodded, kissing him once more before you reached out for your hand, and he pulled the both of you into the dark of the night.

Stage Two.

It had been three months since you’d awoken, mouth parched, next to Roger Taylor in a dank hotel with your clothes scattered across the beige carpet. Although the two of you never explicitly stated that this one night stand was to be anything more, the two of you simply seemed to gravitate back towards one another, time and time again.

The second occasion that you had run into the drummer of Queen was unsurprisingly at the same pub as before. Roger never would have admitted it, but you had always suspected that he had been waiting there for you, for why else would he have been at a pub that wasn’t necessarily close to his own university or the particular gig that his band had scored for that weekend. This night was again followed by a few drinks, some laughs, and a steamy rendezvous back at his hotel. It was also when you decided to leave your landline number for him, to which he ended up using within the next week to talk about what was on the other’s mind.

You were, of course, aware of the reputation that Roger carried, and since the both of you never confirmed what kind of relationship this was, you both were free to do what you please. Although this was not something you usually did, you felt that the late night talks and the needy kisses that greeted you whenever you were alone were enough to keep you on your toes and him, in turn, to be helplessly entranced with you.

However, eventually, the phone calls became shorter. Conversations began to be brief, mostly on the drummer’s side of things. Then the frequency of the calls slowed. Whereas the two of you had shared a call every night, they dwindled to a couple a week. They finally trickled into prolonged silences from the both of you — you being too proud to appear desperate and call him first, and him cutting the already short-lived talks into mere minutes. In time, it was radio silence between the both of you, leaving you cranky and irritable among your everyday life. You felt that an explanation was in order for this, but oh, you were never one to back down, especially when you felt that you were in the right.

It was a cool brisk winter evening when Roger finally phoned you again. The suddenness of his attempt to mend this currently burning bridge left you with a sinking feeling in your stomach, and since speaking to your friends about what this could possibly mean made the feeling tenfold. They all seemed to agree that he was finally going to officially break up the relationship, whatever that entailed. They also really seemed to love branding him an asshole for this, and encouraged you to forget about him and his proposition, but you felt you had been stubborn enough and were holding off from giving up hope as you dreaded that your feelings were more complicated than just a casual fling.

His voice was hoarse on the other side of the telephone, and he didn’t bother to introduce himself. “Can you meet me?” he simply asked. You couldn’t help but notice that his voice seemed to be a bit strung, and you yourself could feel your throat tightening as you feared for the worst. You agreed, readily, before writing down the new hotel location of that week, and hanging up before completely changing your mind.

You chose to wear something subtle, something that in the worst case scenario, would appear to have had no intention of you desperately trying to get him to return to your life. You kept your makeup minimal but was sure to cover the dark circles that plagued your face.

It took a good twenty minutes to reach the location Roger had recited, and you were nervously wracking your hands as you stepped outside the cab, slowly making your way into the brightly lit lobby. The building was surprisingly quiet as your unsteady knees carried you to room 308. The door opened immediately following the sound of your knock, revealing a very stricken Roger. He glanced behind you, checking the deserted hall, before ushering you in and closing the door behind the both of you. He then relaxed a bit at the sight of you, unaware of the nerves that speed through your entire body.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said tenderly.

Your mouth twitched in response, as your bodies easily found one another in the skinny hallway. His hands were on your face, yours on his arms. Your chests were touching, and you could feel the fast-paced beat of his heart against you. “Kiss me.” He followed the instruction with no further prompting, while simultaneously moving the both of you back towards the bed that lay in the center of the room. Laying you down, he hovered over you as his eyes gawked at the reality that you were here. Time seemed to still as you again got a sinking feeling in your stomach, deciding to break the moment by tearfully questioning where he had been. Roger inhaled sharply, pulling back slightly.

“Around,” was all he replied, finally sitting all the way up with you following.

“Rog,” you prompted softly. “You sounded distressed on the phone.”

Words caught in his mouth as though there was something sticky there. His head fell forward as he fought with himself for a solid minute. Eventually, he raised his gaze to meet yours. “I have to tell you something.”

This was it. You felt it in your chest. This island of oblivion you had been residing on was about to be swept away, leaving you to drown. You tried to brace yourself, as the sinking in your chest became a ball of panic that seemed to be struggling to the surface.

Roger’s eyes scanned the room nervously, seemingly afraid that his words would be heard and snatched from this moment.

“I think I might love you, Y/N,” he breathed lightly.

You stared, stunned. This was not the way you expected this to go. You sat, your thoughts shrinking into themselves, the beautiful boy in front of you now biting his lip in pure apprehension as the seconds slipped by like syrup. The room’s air stilled with musing, and your mouth couldn’t form a sentence.

“Well,” his voice snapping through the quietness. “Are you going to say anything?”

His hands wracked through his soft, long hair, as his blue, blue eyes locked on your own. Slowly, you beamed, taking his hands in yours.

“I think I might be in love with you, too, Rog,” you reciprocated, and finally your lips were glued together once more. A swelling of infatuation formed between the two of you as the moment intensified and your hands moved from his to his belt. He grinned against your mouth, tugging on your thighs, letting you move to straddle his waist, pushing him down underneath you. The man moaned cheekily at the sight of you on top, discreetly finding it as a turn on for you to be the one in charge, and didn’t complain as you removed your cotton shirt.

Your body hummed with this newfound feeling of arousal and a happiness had settled in your heart as you gazed at the man beneath you. Things were again looking up, and you knew you never wanted to let them go.

Stage Three.

You lied awake, hyper-aware of the body next to you. The sun had just risen through the trees, and a soft glow was illuminated in your bedroom. The green curtains and messy interior resonated with your feeling of home as much as the person beside you did. In his sleep, Roger’s mouth hung open slightly, releasing small breaths into the space between you, and his hair was caught in the sunlight causing a fire around his face. His eyes were closed, his one hand under his pillow and the other thrown across your torso sometime during your sleep. The both of you were naked beneath the sheets, having fallen asleep late last night. You recalled the intimacy the previous night had brought followed by the two of you finishing off a cigarette as your head leaned against his chest, talking about nothing and everything all at the same time.

Usually, Roger wasn’t very talkative especially about his feelings, but last night had been different. He had bitched about leaving you for the American tour that was taking place for the next couple of months. He knew the strain that it was going to cause the relationship, as all long-distance ones do but he was sure to show you one final good time before the two of you were left with snatches of memories and a discontented feeling in the fibers of your beings for a seemingly unbearable while.

Thinking about this predicament now caused you to squeeze your eyes shut, in denial of not seeing the man beside you for that long. You moved closer to him, placing your head on his shoulder and wrapping his arm tighter around you. Lately, the fights between the both of you had faded out with the impending tour low over your heads. In fact, the last couple of weeks were some of the best between the two of you. You found yourself letting out uncontrollable whimpers recalling the sweet nothings between the two of you, the fun nights out with the rest of his band, and the rougher nights where he’d ride out his creative frustrations with you.

Although you tried to stop them, tears dripped from the corners of your eyes, falling onto Roger’s bare chest beneath you. Sniffling, you wiped them away with the back of your hand and prayed that you hadn’t woken him up. With such a long day ahead, you knew he should be getting a bit more sleep before he hit the road. Alas, a mixture of your mismatched breathing and the wetness that appeared on his skin had awoken the drummer. “What’s the matter, angel?” he spoke against your forehead with a sleepy kiss.

You’re crying amplified at the pet name, and you forced out a “nothing” before trying to change positions to hide your face.

Concerned, Roger lifted his head fully, securing you in place with his arms as he held you close. “It’s not nothing, Y/N. You know I adore you; you can tell me.” You shook your head in response and gripped his strong arms tighter. This seemed to trigger an understanding, as he sighed, leaning back against the headboard. “You know that I’ll miss you, too, right?”

Relieved you didn’t have to speak the words aloud, you nodded, and said in a raspy voice, “Can I have a cigarette?” Roger let out a breathy laugh and gave you one, sadly watching your red eyes focus on his as you took a drag, blowing smoke into the air. He marveled as he stared, wondering how someone who appeared to carry mountains on their shoulders could crumble in his arms even when the source of their pain was brought about by him.

After crushing out the cigarette, you breathed deep, relieved that some of your anxiety was released along with the smoke, and reached a hand out to cup the face of the boy in front of you. The air suddenly became stuffy with sorrow, and again your eyes swelled, as the tempest inside your mind finally reached shores and spilled out into reality. “Love,” Roger solemnly said, placing his hand over your own.

You smiled a watery smile, closing your eyes. “Do you have you go?” The question was rhetorical, both knowing that the question was not to be answered as the answer was obvious and almost tangible between the two of them. The silence continues, and you nod your head, finally pulling back and beginning to get ready for your day.

You stepped into the shower and heard a holler from the room over, “Want me to join you?”

You laughed lowly. “If you want to make your own self late for your flight, go for it,” you yelled back. You received a loud groan in return, and you smiled sadly to yourself as you again remembered this would be the last morning together for a while.

After you’d dried yourself and dressed in a cropped t-shirt and bellbottoms, you moved back into the bedroom and sat next to Roger, who had fallen back asleep. You ran a hand through his curls, and placed a chaste kiss to his cheek, reminding him that his flight left in only two hours and that he still needed to finish packing. Instead of replying, Roger gently grabbed you and pulled you back down onto the bed, hugging you against his chest. He nuzzled his face into your hair, and let out a breath, signaling he was about to drift off again.

“Come on, Rog,” you muttered.

He groaned again, this time in a blue resignation, finally moving to get himself organized to face the day. You were mesmerized at the way he carried himself, with a bit of arrogance even after he had just been awoken. You dragged your own self out of bed and continued to get ready.

As Roger came back into the room, carrying the last of his toiletries, he glanced over at you watching him from your vanity chair. “You know, you could come with to the airport,” he proposed, zipping up his suitcase. “See the whole band off.”

You nibbled your bottom lip, ducking your head. “You know that would just make this harder,” you replied, locking eyes with him. He nodded in understanding, his own eyes finally welling as he realized this was the last time you’d be together for a while.

“Come here,” he said in a gruff voice, opening his muscular arms for you. You swiftly obliged, resting your head on his chest and breathed in the aromatic scent of his cologne. Roger glanced at the clock, and seeing the time, pulled away slightly, looking down at your face, the clear emotion pushing through. He pressed his lips to yours, trying to make the closeness last. You pulled away, taking a half a step back before his lips were again on yours. Your lip quivered as he moved away this time, pulling him back again. You tasted tears, from both him and you, and a hiccup formed in your chest. You peppered his lips with as many kisses as possible, him doing the same, before he finally completely broke free, grabbing his bags and stepping out.

He paused in the doorframe, opening his mouth as though he had one final thought to share. However, he doubted his own instincts and instead spared you one last gloomy twitch of his lips before closing the door between you and him. You and his new reality.

You sank to the floor, unsatisfied and worried what that last near-sentence could have been.

Little did you know it had almost been his first official I love you.