"Morning kisses."
the “ready freddie?” part in crazy little thing called love
reblog if you agree
the music was to blame//
Isobel/18/England
icangiveyoutheirnames
“Blame” Part 3 (Ben Hardy as Roger Taylor x Reader)
[part1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7]
I hope that you guys dig this chapter. Warning, though, it’s a long one. Happy reading!
——————————————————————————————-
You love to sleep.
Yes, of course, everyone needs and, presumably, enjoys their rest, but you really love to sleep.
You pride yourself in your devotion, and, dare you say, talent, to sleep; you can knock out any time, any place, and for any amount of time.
Brian always teased you about it, claiming that you “must find him boring, the way you doze off nearly anywhere you two go.”
You both knew that wasn’t the truth, though; being unconscious was just one of your all-time favorite hobbies.
Tonight was different, though.
You could’ve covered your entire house in lavender and drank one thousand cups of tea— you could’ve literally crushed and snorted every melatonin within a fifty-mile radius, and you would still be wide awake.
After your date— a word that you finally decided was fitting to use after your perfect evening— with John Deacon, falling asleep was nearly impossible.
——————————————————————————————-
As the days passed, something between you and Deaky had shifted.
You weren’t a couple, by any means— in fact, you hadn’t so much as held hands since that night.
But things felt different.
Good different.
The way that he would look at you when you walked into the room.
How you would subconsciously gravitate towards him in any given situation, almost by instinct.
You weren’t sure what was going on between the two of you, and you didn’t want the guys to know about something so new and uncertain, so you didn’t do anything too painfully obvious, but the change was there nonetheless.
You all were so busy, between the traveling, performing, and, of course, partying, you hadn’t even had the chance to be alone with Deaky until the afternoon before Freddie’s homecoming party.
You were in Freddie’s kitchen, chatting away with the catering staff and offering to help set up when he snuck up on you, lifting you from behind, you squealing in the process.
“Put me down, you goof!” you exclaimed, kicking playfully, trying to release yourself from his grasp.
After a few more seconds of laughing and struggling, John finally set you back on your feet.
“Walk with me?”
“Of course,” you respond, a little nervous.
Was everything okay? Did he want to talk about something serious? Was he regretting what happened the night of your spaghetti date?
A million anxious thoughts ran through your head as you began walking through the empty foyer of the Mercury residence.
“You alright, Deak?” You timidly questioned.
“Oh, yeah! I’m fine. Just wanted a moment alone with you is all,” he smiled at you in response.
Butterflies.
“Oh.” You were blushing as you reached the hallway in which an unnecessary amount of rooms were located.
“Look at you, blushing like mad. My, how the tables have turned,” he said teasingly.
You blushed harder, almost scoffing at his remark.
“Don’t be offended, love. I like it.” He was pulling at your hand now, leading you into an empty room.
It happened very quickly, the way in which you were all but slammed against the closing door and completely at the mercy of John’s lips on yours.
If your guys’ first kiss was sweet and timid, this kiss was it’s polar opposite— all hot breath and roaming hands and bodies that just couldn’t get close enough.
When you felt his hands grabbing at your thighs, you didn’t hesitate to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist.
As he pulled away to suck gently at your neck, while slowly, but firmly grinding himself against you, you bit your lip in an attempt to keep quiet.
You felt a familiar ache between your legs and, wow, who knew that Deaky had it in him?
You reveled in the way that his hands and lips and tongue and everything else felt against you.
You were free and on fire and so very relieved to be touched this way.
I mean, hell, the last time that you remembered feeling this way was with Roger.
Roger.
As if on cue with your abrupt thoughts, you heard a loud meow from the corner of the room, causing you both to jump and pull away from each other.
Your faces were still extremely close, so close that you could feel his breath tickling your nose, when you said, “I guess that’s our cue; Oscar doesn’t seem to be in the mood for a show.”
He laughed along with you, reluctantly releasing your legs and setting you on the ground.
“C’mom, we should finish helping everyone set up,” you said, tilting your head in the direction of the door.
He hummed in agreement. “Maybe we can finish this later?” You didn’t miss the suggestive tone in his voice.
“Maybe,” you teased, although, you certainly hoped so.
——————————————————————————————-
You excused yourself from the group of people gathered in the living room, but not without a concerned look from Brian.
You assured him that you were fine and just needed some air.
I mean, hell, you were packed like sardines in there.
Typical Mercury get-together.
You drunkenly walked through a hallway that you barely recognized, almost forgetting your way around Freddie’s gigantic house, when you finally found a door that you’re pretty sure led to one of the cat’s rooms.
Tiffany’s, maybe?
You were trying to remember, not paying well-enough attention to prevent what happened next.
Of all the moronic decisions that alcohol has caused you to make in your time, not knocking before entering was, by far, the worst.
When you opened the door, kneeling at the edge of the bed— why there was a queen-sized bed in a room meant for a cat, you’ll never understand— was none other than Roger Taylor, arms hooked around a pair of thighs that his head was buried between.
They must’ve heard you come in the room— the entire fucking party probably did, curse your inebriated stumbling— because both of their heads immediately snapped in your direction.
You were certain that you looked completely dumb-founded.
You wanted to apologize. Profusely.
You wanted to run out of the room as fast as you could.
You wanted to hide under a rock for the rest of your miserable existence.
You wanted to douse your eyeballs in bleach. All of the bleach.
But, for the life you, you could not say or do anything.
The girl on the bed squealed in surprise, sitting up and scrambling to pull her skirt down, but Roger looked unfazed and decidedly smug.
“Did you want a turn?”
His outrageously sarcastic comment left you wordlessly gaping before finally bolting out of the room.
“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” you frantically whispered to yourself, desperately trying to find one of Freddie’s fifty-something bathrooms to hide in.
When you finally locate one and shut yourself in, you’re immediately pacing, hands rubbing over your face harshly.
“How humiliating,” you thought.
You had just walked in on Roger Taylor eating out some chick, and you are certain that he will never let you live it down.
Hell, you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to let yourself live it down.
You ruined a moment, clearly.
What if he’s angry with you?
Admittedly, you’d be a little upset if the roles were reversed.
On top of it all, the image of what had just transpired was absolutely haunting.
In no way, shape, or form, did you ever want to see that— you could’ve gone your whole life without that image in your head, and probably been a better person because of it.
Roger, on his knees… nails digging into thighs… long, blonde hair brushing against your navel…
You bit down harder, his fingers moving faster, his hair tickling the side of your face.
“Licking and sucking you from the inside fucking out,”
You feel his tongue on the shell of your ear as you rock towards his fingers harder, clenching.
“Licking and sucking you from the inside fucking out,”
You snapped yourself out of the dark place that your mind had just wandered to, quicker than you’ve ever done anything in your entire life.
Nope.
No.
Absolutely not.
You are not seriously thinking about Roger in that way, not after what you just saw.
Your brain refused to relive that night.
Your body, however…
“It’s the wine,” you suddenly said out loud in revelation.
You turned to look at yourself in the mirror to give yourself a stern talking-to.
“I blame the wine. Either that, or you are deeply disturbed,” you scolded your reflection.
You’re trying to convince yourself that you’re just shit-faced and flustered, because the alternative is just too much for you to process.
You’re probably just wound up from you and Deaky’s short-lived make-out session earlier!
Yes, that’s it.
You’re just frustrated.
Just then, there was a pounding on the door, causing you to jump and knock over the toiletries on the counter.
Whose stuff was this? You doubted that Freddie even knew this bathroom existed.
“U-um, occupied?” It sounded more like a question than a statement.
The door swung open, anyway, revealing an unreadable Roger Taylor.
“I am so sorry,” you immediately blurted out without thinking.
“I just needed a second and I should’ve knocked and I hope that your friend isn’t too upset and you two can work it out. I mean, the night is still young,” you laughed nervously, trying to make light of the situation.
You were blabbering.
“Although, a bit funny that you were getting frisky in a cat’s room.”
“Oh, God. Please shut up.”
Your subconscious was telling —no, begging—you to stop talking, but just couldn’t.
“I mean, what if Tiffany had seen? Her poor virgin eyes!” You yelled that part a bit too loud.
Roger’s expression hadn’t changed.
“I-I’m kidding,” you said, softer, somehow even more embarrassed than before. “It was a joke. You’re a grown man, you can do whatever you want. Freddie would definitely approve.”
Could you be any more strange-sounding?
“Not in a weird way, of course. And not that you need anyone’s approval! You should be free to, uh, pursue your endeavors in whatever way you please,” you added with a reassuring, nervous smile.
“Yeah…” You wanted to crawl in a hole and die. “I’m just really sorry.”
If you hadn’t physically seen Roger walk into the bathroom, you would’ve sworn that the being in front of you was merely a stone version of him, because the man did not move in the slightest after your pathetic monologue.
After what felt like a humiliating eternity, he finally broke the silence and said, “I’m pretty sure that’s the most you’ve spoken to me the entire time that we’ve known each other.”
His expression was still stoic and unreadable, but that didn’t stop you from letting out a small giggle.
Then another.
And another, and then one more, until you were full-on cackling.
He looked at you curiously before joining in.
Considering the situation, this was quite the scene.
As your laughter died down, Roger finally decided to provide a serious response to your ridiculous tangent.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset and I’m not going to tell anyone about your little intrusion.”
Relief washed over you.
“I mean, the lady was a bit worked up about it, but there are plenty of other,” he thought about his next words carefully, “suitable options here.”
You nodded in understanding, feeling extremely grateful that this hadn’t turned out to be nearly as big of a deal as you were making it out to be in your head.
That seemed to be a pattern with you, Roger, and awkward situations.
“Besides,” he added, turning to leave the bathroom.
“I’m really good at keeping secrets.”
——————————————————————————————-
Roger really doesn’t give a fuck, huh? Lmaooo. I hope that you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, please do not hesitate to bombard my inbox and/or ask with your thoughts, predictions, critiques, desires, and literally anything else that your little heart desires! Thank you for reading!
P.S. This is my taglist so far (it’s growing every day— makes me emo), but please let me know if I missed you or if you’d like to be added!
@anamcg317 @arrowswithwifi @benrogerhardytaylor @ceruleanrainblues @glitter-rian @hannah1234543 @heyyouitskay @jadethirhell @lostcherryinwonderland @magicwithaknife @mentamaree @overcastskeleton7 @rouiettes @smittyjaws @wolverinesbeer