Roger Comforts You After You Have A Bad Day [ROGER X READER]

Roger Comforts You After You Have a Bad Day [ROGER x READER]

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Word count: 975

A/N: Literally wrote this right now because I’m in a weird mood and wish I had someone like Roger to comfort me like this. I hope you enjoy and hope everyone has a fantastic start to their weekend!

Today was not a good day. First, you woke up late because you forgot to set your alarm. You got a lower than average grade on the paper you thought you aced. Then, you spilled coffee all over your white shirt and didn’t have time to change between classes. You’re tired. And you just want to go home and watch TV while eating a big bowl of Lucky Charms and go to sleep at an insanely early hour.

It didn’t work out like that.

When you get back to your apartment, you change out of your clothes before heading to the kitchen. But while preparing a bowl of cereal, you drop the milk carton, and milk splatters everywhere––soaking the wood floors, the cupboards underneath the sink, the fridge. And you just stand there frozen, staring at the liquid dripping off the surfaces. Staring at the carton laying sideways on the floor. Staring at the already poured out cereal in the bowl on the counter.

And you just start to cry. Cries that turn into large, heaving sobs as you crouch down to the floor, your head in your hands. And you cry and cry and cry. Because you’re tired. And you’re sad. And you just want someone to hug you and tell you that everything will be okay. So, you go to your room and picking up the phone with shaky hands, you dial the first person that comes to mind. He picks up on the second ring.

“Rog?” you ask, still crying.

“Y/N? Is everything alright?” he asks, a hint of panic in his tone. You hear him shushing the other people in the background. Already, hearing his familiar voice begins to calm you down.

“I know you’re really busy right now, but can you come over? You don’t have to though, if you can’t––I just––I just really need you right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, I was just about to leave the studio for the night anyway,” he says, and you can hear him shuffling around, most likely getting up and packing his stuff for the night.

“Okay, thanks Rog, love you,” you whisper through the phone.

“I’ll be there in twenty. Love you too.” When he puts the phone back on the receiver, he immediately grabs all of his stuff to get ready to leave.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Brian asks from his seat at the soundboard.

“I have to go, Y/N called, and she needs me to come over.”

“We’re in the middle of recording a song!”

“You guys can finish it without me,” he says before grabbing his jacket, saying goodbye, and almost sprinting out the door. Brian shakes his head.

“Has he admitted his feelings for her yet?” John asks, lazily strumming his guitar.

“Nope,” Brian replies, popping the “p.”

––––––––

Roger arrives at your apartment in sixteen minutes. He already has a key, so he first knocks before letting himself in. He walks into the kitchen and sees the absolute mess you left behind. The milk already beginning to dry on the surfaces. The uneaten bowl of cereal looks like it was thrown (rather haphazardly) into the sink––bits of Lucky Charms strewn across the counter as well.

“Y/N?” he calls and hears a muffled response coming from your bedroom. He finds you under your covers, eyes puffy and swollen. A book sitting on top of the covers to your right (you didn’t read a word of it though). When you see him with his soft hair and kind eyes and smell his familiar cologne mixed with cigarette smoke, your face crumples, and tears flood your eyes again. All those factors coupled with the fact that you haven’t seem him in so long due to your busy schedules cause you to break down when you see him.

“Roger?”Although you’re crying, an intense wave of relief washes over you at his arrival. His heart breaks at the sound of your voice. He could hear the fatigue. The defeat.

“Hi, love,” he says softly before quickly shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his shoes. He immediately walks over and climbs into the bed with you––still in his jeans and all––bringing you into his arms. You lay your head on his chest, resting your hand on his torso.

“Thank you for coming,” you whisper into his neck.

“Of course. You wanna talk about it?” he asks, but you shake your head, and he understands. Understands because when he has bad days, sometimes, he simply just wants to be with someone and wants someone to be there for him (you know he understands because you’ve done the same thing for him multiple times).

You two lay there for a moment, soaking up each other’s presence.

“You know, there’s a big mess in the kitchen,” he whispers. You smile for the first time that day.

“I just wanted some cereal,” you mumble.

“I’m gonna go clean it up, okay?” he says about to untangle himself from you, but you tighten your arms around his waist.

“Wait,” you say.

“What do you need?” he whispers, stroking your hair.

“Just––can you stay with me?” you ask, sniffling. His heart clenches.

“Of course darling,” he says, his voice raspy. You guys had plenty of sleepovers where you two slept in the same bed. This time is the same as the rest as you snuggle deeper into his chest, gripping onto his shirt, and he kisses the top of your head. Eventually, his warmth and the quiet tune he hums lulls you to sleep as he feels your hand loosen its grip and your breaths come out in deep, even exhales. The furrow in your brow is still there, and he gently thumbs over it.

“I’ll always stay with you,” he whispers into your hair.

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