This. This Right Here Is Illegal.

this. this right here is illegal.

i will never be able to get over this picture

Freddie: You've been in this band, what, a month now? Do you have any friends?

John: Roger is my friend.

Roger: *shaking his head* No.

Promises [Roger Taylor x Reader]

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: "Remember when you promised we’d always be together? Because I remember when I thought you meant it.”

Word count: 1282

Contains: ANGST SO MUCH ANGST

A/N: This is my fic for @bensroger’s 3k writing challenge (congrats on 3k love!) I hope you enjoy!

You hear the front door open and close. 

“I’m home!” your husband calls from the foyer as he sets his keys on the table. He walks into the living room as you wait for him on the couch. 

“Hi darling, you know for dinner, I was thinking we could go to that Italian place you really like––” he says, distracted by taking off his jacket, the various zippers and buttons making it a harder task than it should be. 

“Who’s Rachel?” you ask quietly. He stops mid taking off his jacket. A pause. A too-long, self-incriminating pause. 

“Who?” he asks.

“Don’t fucking play dumb. Samantha saw you with her in the bathroom the other night.” Silence. He doesn’t even try to deny it now. Stops talking and hangs his head, and you feel your heart cleave in two. 

You let out a mirthless laugh that sounds more like a sob as tears begin falling down your face. Those tears finally let loose because a little part of you thought, maybe, just maybe Samantha was lying or that she didn’t see it right or she made it a mistake and the man standing in between the legs of another girl in a slimy bar bathroom wasn’t your husband––wasn’t Roger. And the fact that that little part of you was wrong made you cry even harder. Disappointment and heartbreak and betrayal making you press your hands onto your mouth as if that’ll hold the breaking pieces of you together. He walks over, arm raised, about to lay his hand on your shoulder to try to comfort you. 

“Don’t touch me,” you scream, jerking away from him. Your fists clench, and you feel your nails digging into your palm. You think you feel them puncture through the skin, think you feel blood. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his own tears beginning to pool in his eyes. You ignore his apology, choosing not to listen. Refusing to listen. 

“Remember––remember when you promised we’d always be together? Because I remember when I thought you meant it,” you say, your voice breaking. And he flinches. Flinches so hard, it looks as if he got slapped in the face. Flinches because he remembers exactly when he promised you that––is thrown back to that exact moment. 

You wake up to the feeling of Roger’s fingers trailing along your jaw, your cheeks, your brows. You scrunch up your nose as he presses a kiss to the tip of it. He exhales softly, his heart clenching at the sight. Your eyes finally flutter open, and you’re met with him gazing upon you, eyes soft, his arm propping up his head as he looks down on you. 

“Good morning, my beautiful fiancé,” he murmurs. Too tired to speak just yet, you wrap your arms lazily around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Good morning, lover,” you whisper once you separate. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Yeah, right up until I was rudely awoken,” you say, snuggling deeper into his side, draping an arm across his torso. He laughs.

“At least the first thing you woke up to was the face of your gorgeous fiancé,” he says, flicking your nose. 

“Hmm, I guess so…” You press a kiss to his sternum, and he squirms. You look at him with an absolutely wicked expression, now feeling very much awake. Seeing this expression, he opens his mouth, but you cut him off by poking his sides. He jerks away. 

“Oh, you really want to start this?” he asks before beginning his own assault to your arm pits. You shriek, kicking and writhing your body away from his fingers. 

You somehow manage to get on top of him, legs on either side of his body as you pin his wrists down by his sides (he let you win).

“Ha!” you exclaim, victorious, looking down at him. He meets your gaze with amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“Fine, you beat me, could I get a kiss now to make me feel better?” he asks, looking up at you though his long lashes. You roll your eyes before leaning down to press your lips to his. But when you bend down, your hands loosen their grips on his wrists. 

You squeal as the world suddenly flips upside down and when you get your bearings, you’re on your back, arms pinned above your head, looking up at a very smug Roger. 

“Hello there, love,” he murmurs with a smirk. 

“Prick,” you huff. 

“You love me.” You look away, pouting, trying not to smile. “Y/N, look at me,” he whines, nuzzling his face into your neck. You refuse, the corners of your mouth tilting up against your will. He lets go of your arms. And then plops all of his body weight on top of yours, wrapping his arms around you. 

“Roger!” you wheeze, laughing and hitting his sides. “Get off of me!”

“Love meeeee,” he says, voice muffled as his face is buried in the crook of your neck. Letting out an exaggerated sigh, you grab his face with both hands to bring it up to yours. 

“You’re a big baby, you know that?” He gives you a loud, wet kiss in response before pressing kisses all over your face, your neck, your collarbones. You squeal and laugh. Love and warmth and adoration hazy in the morning air. 

You both lay in bed for a while as if you had all the time in the world, soaking in the feeling of one another––soaking in each other’s presence. He plays with your hair as you rest your head on his chest. His warmth coupled with his heart’s steady beating making you sleepy again. 

“Roger?” you ask, tilting your face up at him. Voice soft as you absentmindedly draw little shapes on his skin. The morning light streaming in through the gauzy curtains makes him look like an angel. 

“Mmm?” he asks, his eyes half closed. 

“Promise we’ll always be together?” you whisper, the diamond ring sitting on your finger feeling especially heavy. Opening his eyes, he sits up. He cups your face, pure, unadulterated love filling his heart. 

“Always,” he whispers back before ducking down to connect your lips. And in this moment, he knows that you’re the one who he was waiting his whole life for––who he’ll now spend his whole life with. Promises himself that he’ll never let you go––that he’ll always be by your side. And in this moment, you know that this man is the love of your life, and you know for certain that nothing will ever take him away from you. 

His eyes are closed and his brows are creased with pain. Stumbling towards you, his arms are raised in front of him as if he’s reaching out for you. But you stare resolutely at your hands, aggressively picking the hangnail on your finger. 

“Y/N, look at me please,” he whispers hoarsely. You snap your head up.

“No. I’m done. We are done,” you hiss. The tears have stopped. Now you just feel––empty. Spent.  

“Darling, please, it was a mistake,” he begs. “I love you––”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare say that to me.”

“Y/N––”

“YOU PROMISED.”

“I know, god, I know. And I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” 

“Get out.”

“What?”

“I said. Get. Out,” you say as you begin throwing his stuff––his bag, his sunglasses, his jacket––out the door. 

“And take this,” you say, ripping the ring off your finger and throwing it at him. He catches it, his heart broken. He looks at you, desperation on his face, and you turn away. 

“You promised,” you whisper as he leaves through the front door. 

Permanent taglist:

@thefirstkillerqueen @hysterical-queen-trash @clara-who @ladycataztrophe @ghost-in-love

shit.

…where Roger sounds like pure sex

he’s just––perfect. Absolutely, completely, and utterly perfect. 

that’s intimidating but… alas 😌

I sometimes really wish I was a ham and cheese sandwich.