Hi darling! I saw you want to write some little fics about the boys, so, could you write a fic with Roger in which he finds the reader talking to other guy and gets jealous? * Jealousy plays in the background *
My Other Half (Roger Taylor X Reader One Shot)
Full Ask/Plot: Hi darling! I saw you want to write some little fics about the boys, so, could you write a fic with Roger in which he finds the reader talking to other guy and gets jealous? * Jealousy plays in the background * I was thinking about Rog and the reader being steady for a while, so he is thinking of proposing to her, but one day he sees her (at a diner or a shop, maybe?) talking to this other guy and gets more than jealous, he feels really bad about it? I guess this is going to turn out a little angsty 😅
Word Count: 7.2 K (its even lengthier than the last!)
Warnings: None really, mentions of sex. Swearing. Some angst. Thats it!
January of 1977, interview with the boys in Chicago while on tour:
“So Roger,” The interviewer asked. “We understand your girlfriend Y/N has been in the news a lot lately. What’s your life and relationship with her like?”
“Well she’s not my girlfriend,” Roger nervously laughed.
“She’s not?”
“Well if I may interject,” Freddie said. “She basically is his girlfriend, they’re just an odd bunch who says “oh we’re not dating, she’s not my girlfriend, we’re just in a relationship.”
“Fred,” Roger blushed, scratching the back of his neck.
“I must say he’s quite in love with her. They’re really the perfect couple.” John said.
“Yeah we love Y/N,” Brian started. “The two of them are pretty much inseparable. They’re a package deal, you can’t have Roger without her. I’m not quite sure why they don’t ever say they’re dating. Maybe it’s because they’ve been friends for so long? They’re great though.”
The interviewer laughed. “So, Roger. What is Y/N like?”
He smiled when he thought of you. “She’s the definition of the word rock star other than the whole being in a band thing. Plays guitar sometimes though.” It was visible to anyone watching him that his head was in the clouds. “We’ve been best friends since college, and then our relationship kind of just blossomed from there. You know; people always say opposites attract but-” Freddie cut him off.
“Oh not with them, Darling! I swear they’re the same person sometimes.”
Roger laughed at his friends comment. “Yeah, that’s what I was getting at. I mean we just always have fun together. Of course we have our quiet moments too, but we just really get each other; rarely fight. Always have a good time.”
“She’s the most wanted model in England right now, let alone the whole world. How does that make you feel?”
Roger smirked. “Well she ‘ain’t a model yet, mate.”
“Yeah, but I mean you two did that photo shoot together, and then all of a sudden everyone knew her name. Why hasn’t she taken any of those modeling deals?”
“Oh I don’t know, but she has an interview back home in a couple days. I don’t want to speak for her or anything, you know. I’ll let her say.”
“Then what made you do that photo shoot?”
Roger laughed. “Well I think any guy can understand where I’m coming from there, mate. If you’re a rock star and you’ve gotta do a solo photo shoot for your new song, (which I didn’t want to do, may I add) and you’ve got a hot significant other, you have her do the shoot with you. Plain and simple.” Everyone laughed at his blatantly honest statement, and the interviewer continued asking the rest of the band questions.
After the interview, the guys were in their shared dressing room, Roger fixing his hair at the mirror and Freddie and Brian gushing over pictures of John’s baby who just learned to walk.
“Guys,” Roger started with a clear of his throat.
They all turned up to look at him; it was obvious he was stressed about something. “Well you all know, uh. Y/N left to go back home the other day, and tonight is our second to last show in the states, and in like five days we go home, and do one more show in London to end our this tour, you know?” He was clearly sweating, scratching the back of his neck as he talked around what he was trying to get at.
Deaky nodded confused, Freddie said “Yup?”
“We know our schedule, Rog. What’re you trying to say?” Brian encouraged.
“If it makes you feel any better, I miss Veronica too, even though you saw Y/N two days ago and I haven’t seen my wife or children for four months, but yeah, I get it.” Deaky added.
“No, no. I um, uh-” Roger could barely form words. He covered his smile with his mouth as he looked down blushing. Unable to get out what he was trying to say, he unzipped the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a small black box. “I’m gonna do it.” He laughed, opening it to reveal a huge pear shaped engagement ring. “I’m gonna ask her to marry me!” He smiled, his friends congratulating him with a huge hug.
“Wow, you really went all in for that ring, didn’t you, Rog?” Brian asked.
“Yeah, bought it on Rodeo Drive when we were in California at Cartier. You know how she is, the bigger the better. Had to impress my girl.” he gushed.
“Well I’m so happy for you, Rog. She’ll definitely say yes. I see the way she looks at you.” John added.
“Of course she will!” Freddie exclaimed. “Though I must say; I expected Brian to be the next to get married. Honestly thought you’d be the last. You just have that free attitude. I mean, you’re only 27, Darling.”
“I know, I know. I thought the same thing. But I’m just so happy. I never want to lose her. I know we’re young. We’re both free spirits, but together we ground each other. It’s just one of those things that works, you know?”
“When you know you know.”
On the way back to the hotel room Roger couldn’t stop smiling, his years with you replaying in his head, going all the way back to the day you two met.
~~~~
It was an intro to dentistry class, only the second day of freshman year, and all the seats were filled in the lecture hall except for the one next to Roger. He knew everyone had been there the day before, so tried to figure out who was missing. Suddenly, you burst into class clad in your rock star aesthetic, popping your bubblegum ever so confidently, as you said, “Sorry I’m late,” to the professor.
“You know, Miss...” He started.
“Y/L/N”
“Miss Y/L/N, if you were here maybe you’d know that chewing gum isn’t good for your teeth.”
“Well Professor,” you started, noticing the teacup on his desk as you walked to the only open seat near the back. “Neither is tea; it stains them. Yet we all drink it anyways.” You smirked, plopping in the only free seat next to the wide eyed blonde boy. You relaxed back in your chair and put your feet up on the chair in front of you, red heels popping out of your black leather pants which you paired with a black leather jacket, some layered necklaces and a Led Zeppelin shirt.
Roger was absolutely smitten. He loved your attitude. Finally, he thought, someone to rival him. Someone equal to his level of strong headed-ness. Then he noticed what you were wearing. He almost wore the same bloody thing. He had on his black leather trousers, red converse, a Led Zeppelin shirt (thank god it wasn’t the same one you had on), his gold layered necklaces and black leather jacket. You were missing the sunglasses though. Was he looking at an alternate version of himself?
“Hello, Love. I’m Roger.” He smirked.
“Hi,” you smirked back, noticing how attractive he was. “I’m Y/N”
“Not gonna compliment my outfit?”
“Huh?” You asked, confused.
“Look at your outfit, Love. Now look at mine. See any coincidence?”
“Oh!” You laughed. “God, what’re the odds.”
It was silent for a couple minutes until you let out a groan of exhaustion. “I don’t want to be here, my parents are making me go to school to be a bloody dentist. I just want to go home and get ready for tonight.”
“Same thing is going through my mind, Love. I’ve got a gig tonight.”
“Oh really? I love music. What do you play?”
“Drums and sing a bit too.” He proudly smiled.
“That’s great. Wish I played something.”
“I can teach you,” he encouraged.
“I think I’d like that very much.” You smiled. “Where are playing later?”
“Imperial hall. You-“
You cut him off. “Really? You must be joking. You’re in Smile?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s why I was saying I wanted to go get ready for tonight! I’m going to your gig!”
“What are the odds?” He mimicked, making you giggle. “Hey, I’ll make sure you get a front row seat. Really, I mean it. I know how crazy those can get.”
“Thanks.” You smiled as he put a strand of hair behind your ear.
After class he called, “Hey, Y/N! I can't help but want to get to know you better. Do you want to go grab a coffee or something?”
“I’d love to, but I’ve gotta say I’m more of a whiskey girl than I am coffee.”
God, she’s perfect. He thought.
“Then the bar down the street it is.” Roger smiled.
Your relationship didn’t turn romantic after that for a couple years, you and Roger were just the inseparable friends who spent at least two hours together every day, and everyone thought were twins because of how similar you were. You always flirted and held hands, but kept it platonic until about a year after Queen had formed.
You and Roger were living together as friends, and one night after a Queen gig got wasted playing truth or dare with Freddie and the rest of the band. You had on a tight, revealing red dress. Knowing you could never pass up the riskiest of questions, Freddie said,
“Alright. We’ve been playing classic truth or dare for a while now. It’s time to spice it up. Who here is brave enough to do a truth and a dare that are connected at the same time?”
“Me! I’ll do it!” You burst up, making the four of them laugh.
“Alright, Darling. I was hoping you’d chose to participate.” Freddie was trying to get you and Roger together. “Of the four of us, choose who you like the most and want to be in a relationship with the most, straddle them and make out with them for a full minute, and then tell us the truth of why you chose them.”
“Deal.” You rose from your chair, gaze shifting between the four of them. You knew you’d choose Roger; had been in love with him for a while, but things had been going so well between the two of you for so long as friends you considered choosing Freddie just to make everyone laugh and not mess up anything between you and Roger.
But you couldn’t do it.
You turned to your left, locking eyes with your roommate as you straddled him, smirk on his face as your arms went around his neck, his hands reaching to your hair as your lips connected. The kiss was drunkenly passionate, the other three cheering the two of you on and counting to sixty as Roger’s hands roamed your back, your hands now tangled in his hair. You opened your mouth, his tongue immediately slipping in.
“58!”
“59!”
“60!” They cheered as the two of you breathlessly broke away.
“You chose me?” Roger questioned, astonished.
“ ‘Course I chose you.” You smiled, turning around on his lap to face the other three, his arms still tightly wrapped around your stomach.
“So,” Freddie smiled. “Why our Roggie boy?”
“God this is so embarrassing.” You blushed.
“Get on with it!” Deaky slurred.
“Firstly, you’re just as good if not a better kisser than I imagined,” you confessed, everyone laughing. “But I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you, Rog. I’ve just never been able to tell you. So scared I’ll mess everything up. I mean, you’re my best friend, and my roommate. I could really screw up my whole life if you didn’t feel the same way. Do you know how hard it is to confess you’re in love with your best friend and have been for the last four years?”
“Yeah, I actually do.” Roger laughed, making you flick your head at him in shock. “Wait,” he said in realization, the alcohol impairing his thinking. “You’re in love with me too?”
You nodded, smiling.
“So we could’ve been together all this time, but we were too scared to mess anything up?” He said in disbelief. “God I’m such an idiot!”
“But you know now,” you teased. “And besides, relationships are better with an established friendship.”
He sat there silenced for a couple moments, trying to process what had just happened. You and the other three couldn’t stop laughing at his thought process that was visually represented on his face.
First he was shocked, then happy, excited, confused, angry, annoyed, shocked again, and then it just kept going in that order until he had a look of realization, standing up as he grabbed your hand. “We, um, we gotta go home. Kay bye!” He said, rushing out with you in tow, leaving you and the boys laughing like crazy.
That night was a passionate night as soon as you had stepped through the door. The two of you had sex at least three times, maybe even more. After that day, you never really slept in your bedroom anymore. You gradually moved your things in with Roger, turning it into a spare room as your relationship blossomed. You never really had publicly described your relationship status, which was fine. To any outsider you were dating, and that’s fine because you essentially were, but really, the two of you were madly in love, and really that’s all that mattered.
~~~~
Back in England, you just finished getting dressed, ready to walk onto the set of Good Morning Britain in a half hour. You were nervous; knew criticism was bound to come from your outfit, but it also gave you an adrenaline rush. You always liked some excitement. Your hair and makeup were styled impeccably, and you wore a pair of tightly fitted black jeans which were slightly frayed at the bottom and stopped at your ankles to show off your new sparkly heels. You paired the whole ensemble with a leather jacket; one that you found in Roger’s closet back at home, and that was it. No shirt, no necklace. Nothing. Just an open leather jacket to drive the modeling agencies crazy with your cleavage - but tastefully. Of course it was taped down with double sided tape, but one wrong move and you’d flash everyone.
To calm your nerves, you decided to call Roger’s hotel room even though it was two in the morning back in the states.
“Hello?” He tiredly said, half awake. His groggy voice put an immediate smile to your face. Roger was always so adorable when he had just woken up. Took him a bit to come to his senses sometimes. He always said the funniest things.
“Hi, Baby.” You cooed.
“Y/N?” He asked, clearly still kind of confused.
“Yeah it’s me, Rog.” You giggled.
“Do I need to come pick you up now?” He slurred.
“What?”
“What?” He tiredly echoed, making you laugh.
“Roger wake up, it's me, Y/N.”
“Oh, oh. Sorry, sorry. I’m here now.”
You laughed. “What was that all about?”
“What was what about?” He said completely awake now.
“You saying you had to come pick me up?”
“Oh, yeah. Think I had a dream where you were at a bar or something and didn’t want to leave and I had to go back and get you. Gimme a break, Love. It’s two in the morning here, you know.” He teased.
“I know,” you smiled. “I just wanted to hear your voice. Miss you.”
“Well I miss you too, my Love. It isn’t just a saying. The bed really is much colder without you.”
His comment made you laugh. “You think that’s bad, try our bed back at home. It’s bloody awful.”
“You know,” he yawned, “you’re usually pretty good about calling at a decent time for us both. Why are you calling so early?”
“Nerves. I’ve got my interview in a half hour.”
“You’re the most headstrong person I know beside myself. You’ll be fine.”
“I know, but I never really do interviews. Just say a word or two when someone shoves a camera in your face. Never had one where I’m the Roger.”
“The Roger?” He laughed.
“You know, the famous person.”
“Ohh, righttt.” He smiled at your adorable comment. “Just keep your head together, be the personable girl you always are. Be the Y/N I know and you’ll be fine.”
“What about the questions?”
“Just answer the ones you want to, but answer them truthfully. You’re usually blatantly honest, so if you don’t like a question just tell ‘em. Or you can just dodge it. Both work equally as well. Being honest will show people your personality the best.”
You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “And what if they ask about my modeling career?”
“Like I said, be honest. Tell ‘em you’re not a model. Tell ‘em about us, how the photo shoot came about. All that.”
“And if they ask if I have a manager?”
“You don’t.”
“But-”
“Y/N,” he cut you off, “you don’t even work or have a job. I pay all the bills, which I’m completely fine with and don’t want to stop doing. I love providing for you. But like I said, don’t lie to say what they want to hear or they’ll just prove you wrong.”
“Can I say you’re my manager?”
“Sure,” he chuckled, “Roger Taylor the best friend, manager, and uh,” he was unsure what you considered him in your eyes.
“Boyfriend?”
“You consider me your boyfriend?” He asked, shocked.
“Yeah,” You laughed, “you basically are anyways.”
“Alright, I like the sound of that. Roger Taylor the boyfriend. So what’s your outfit look like? Sure you’re all dolled up per usual.”
“Oh, um,” for some reason you were nervous to tell him. Your outfit was something that's usually a bedroom thing between the two of you. You didn’t need his added comments to your nervousness right now. “Black. All black.”
“Ooh,” he cooed. “You know how much I love you in black. Take a picture for me.” He imagined your in a tight, straight fitting, lace, black dress.
“Of course.” Although it’ll probably end up on the news in America later if I get the shock factor I’m looking for, you thought. “I’ve got those new sparkly heels on you got for me too.”
“I’m sure you look gorgeous.” He yawned. “Alright, Love, I had a show tonight and I have another and some traveling tomorrow. I’m exhausted and really need some rest. You’re gonna do great.” He smiled.
“Thanks.” You smiled back. Though neither of you could see, you could hear the smile in each other’s voices.
“Goodnight, Baby.”
“Goodnight Rog, sweet dreams, Love.”
Just as you hung up you heard, “Miss Y/L/N! Five minutes!”
~~~~~~
The woman sitting across from you shook your hand as you sat down, eyes slightly widening from the shock factor of your outfit.
“So good to have you here with us this morning, Y/N.” She smiled.
“So good to be here,” you smiled. “I’ve always wanted to be on the morning show ever since I was a little girl.”
“So the last couple weeks have been crazy for you, haven’t they?”
“Oh yeah, total change in my life.” You laughed. “I mean, I was kind of used to the cameras from Roger, but it was never like it is now. I mean they’re everywhere. Everyone has a question, I’m on covers of magazines. It really makes you want to look your best all the time when people are constantly taking photos of you and publishing them.”
“And the calls?”
“Oh yeah, that too,” you continued, kicking yourself in the head for not adding that in. “Course that has been crazy too. The phone’s literally off the hook. I just got back from tour with Queen in America a couple days ago to come here today, so I mean of course I was getting some while I was there, but I assume it was harder for the agencies to locate me then. Now that I’m back home it’s just non stop modeling agency after modeling agency ringing me up, one offering me more money than the last, all trying to get me to sign a deal.”
“And you haven’t accepted one yet,” the interviewer, said perplexed. “Do you realize you’re being called the most beautiful girl in England? Some sources even say most beautiful girl in the world. Why haven’t you taken this opportunity?”
“Oh I don’t really know,” you laughed. “The game of continuously turning them down is kind of fun to me, I must admit. But really, I’m happy with the way everything is. I mean being a model is every little girl's dream, but I’ve never been looking to make a career out of it. I don’t need it. Roger and I are happy just the way everything is. We don’t need anymore money. If the right one comes along, then sure, maybe I’m interested. But really it just was never part of my plan.”
“Can you explain how this craze to get you to sign a modeling contract came about?”
“Sure,” you laughed. “Sorry, it still sounds so funny to me. Well, Roger has a solo album coming out soon, and he had to do some promotional pictures.”
“For those who don’t know, could you say who Roger is to you?”
“Of course,” you smiled. “well I’m in a relationship with Roger Taylor, the drummer of Queen. We’ve been together for a while now, and have been best friends even longer. Can’t imagine my life without him.” You gushed, earning an “awe” from the studio audience. “Anyways, he’s coming out with his first solo album soon and had to do some promotional photos, which he hates doing, so he asked if I’d go along with it, so I did, and then it just kind of expanded from there. We went all out.”
“I’d say you did,” the interviewer smiled, holding up some photos of you and Roger in the photo shoot, (I imagine Kylie Jenner and Travis Scott’s GQ photoshoot) earning hoots and hollers from the audience. “What made you choose the outfit you’re wearing today?”
“Well that’s a rude question.” You retorted.
“I-I’m sorry.” The interviewer stumbled. “I like your outfit, I was just wondering how you chose it.”
“Oh, well, wanted to show a little more. I mean you are all referring to me as a model after all; might as well dress like it. And besides this is Roger’s jacket.” You said, tugging lightly on the collar.
And then you felt it. The release of the tightness on the skin of your breasts, the double sided tape breaking loose from your breasts from the change in pressure from your slight pulls.
And then it happened. The right side of the jacked flew open a little bit.
And you noticed.
The interviewer noticed; you saw it on her face.
The crowd noticed; you heard it from the gasp.
And the camera caught it.
The camera caught you flashing all of Britain on live television.
Hey, you thought in a state of panic, at least it was the good side.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Knock, knock, knock.
Roger groggily awoke from his sleep checking the clock.
3:30 AM.
Only an hour and a half after you had called him.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Roger, darling. You’ve got to turn on the news. It’s Freddie, Brian, and John.” He said giddily. He was excited about something.
Roger stumbled out of bed, unlocking the door and flopping back onto his pillow as Freddie grabbed the remote, hurriedly putting on the news.
“Look, Rog!” Freddie encouraged.
And then he heard it.
“Roger Taylor’s girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N flashes all of Britain, and now the world on her interview with Good Morning Britain.”
Roger shot straight up, watching it again and again. It was being blown out of proportion, yet at the same time was extremely noticeable. It made him turned on while also making him extremely jealous.
The whole world just got to see something that was only supposed to be his.
~~~~
You cried to Roger on the phone after his concert that night. How embarrassed you felt. How sorry you were.
He did his best to calm you down, almost blowing up at one point, but he kept his emotions in control. Decided he couldn’t start a fight with you if he was going to propose soon.
It was just the idea that the whole world saw something that he considered his, saw a part of you nude made him upset.
It made him jealous.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two Weeks Later:
Roger had been home for a week, and you were feeling on top of the world. It was nice to not have to worry about traveling for a little bit, about where he was and if he made it there safely. It was nice to feel like a normal couple that lived together for a little bit.
The media had been ruthless. You took it hard at first, all the media calling you a slut, a whore. Saying Roger had been dating a prostitute and that the two of you tried to cover it up. You stayed in bed for a couple of days. Didn’t want to leave the house, turn on the TV, or look at the newspaper without Roger. You didn’t answer the phone to anyone. Only called Roger once a day. When he came home he found you in bed looking like a complete mess. Dark eyes, only wearing one of his sweatshirts. Glasses of water around the room, an empty bag of chips on the end table. The lights were dimmed and there was a box of tissues on your chest. He didn’t say anything when he saw you, and he didn't have to. He just held you in his arms as you cried.
It was all over soon enough though. As Freddie assured you, any media is good media. It brought attention to your name. Soon enough, your were out of your funk and getting free things from big designers in the mail. It all ended up alright.
Roger told you he had to run out and do a couple errands, and to be ready for dinner at six. He said he had some surprises coming throughout the day, so to be prepared. Little did you know he was planning on proposing that night. You awoke to his absence, still in your lingerie from the night before to a new, versace, fluffy bathrobe with a note on the hanger hanging from the bedpost across from you. It read:
“Love you more, xoxo, Roger.”
You smiled as you put it on, hearing the doorbell ring and starting the trek through your mansion to the front door.
“Oh my god, he didn’t.” You said to yourself as you stepped out of the master bedroom. There were photos covering the floor everywhere. Photos of the two of you. You picked one up. It was of a day you and Roger went on a hike back in college. It brought a smile to your face as you stuffed it in the pocket of your robe. You walked a little further, looking over the banister into the living room and foyer and down the stairs. At your feet was a photo you took of him when you went skiing last winter. Everywhere was covered with photos of the two of you. There were repeats, but it didn’t matter. Of course there’d be some repeats, he had a lot of floor space to cover. The pictures on the stairs made you smile the most, or instead just picture, singular. The stairs were covered in Roger’s favorite picture of you, a photo of you upside down, playing Tenement Funster on the guitar, which he had taught you because he thought it was the easiest to play. He took copies of that picture everywhere. Kept one in his pocket, one in his wallet, one taped on the side of his drum. One stuck in the mirror in your bedroom, one framed in the living room downstairs, one framed in his music room. It was everywhere. He said he never wanted to forget it. There was a poster board taped to the wall to the side of the stairs with “The love of my life, Y/N” and an arrow down written on it in sharpie, which made you giggle. Little by little, you picked up your favorite pictures, some of which you didn’t know existed, and put them in the pocket of your robe.
You made your way to the front door, unlocking it to find a huge bouquet of roses. There were easily six dozen roses, maybe even more. God, he was extravagant. But it made you smile. The card on top read, “Love you most, xoxo, Roger”.
Man, he really knew how to make a girl swoon. Around one, someone came with a dress bag. “Miss Y/L/N?” They asked as you opened the door.
“Yes?”
“I’m with Versace. Mr. Taylor designed this dress for you.”
“Oh!” You said, clearly shocked. “Thank you,” You smiled, taking the bag and tipping the man. You hurried upstairs, careful to not trip on all the photos, and hung the dress in your walk in closet, eagerly unzipping the bag.
It took your breath away.
There was a strapless, scoop necked satin, floor length, white dress. It had a high slit on the left side with a black stripe. It was gorgeous. It came with a matching black handbag and strappy black heels. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
“Wear this to dinner tonight, there will be people coming to do your hair, makeup and nails at four, I’m coming home around 5:30. Love you to the moon and back, xoxo, Roger.” Read a note that fell out of the shoe box. You went downstairs to eat lunch, gathering some more photos of you and Roger as you walked past them.
By four you were in your dress, literally feeling dressed to the nines, the stylists setting up camp in a spare room upstairs so Roger wouldn’t see you until you got ready. You heard him come home at 5:30, just like he said. He sounded so excited as he talked to you through the door, telling him you were almost done as he retired to the master bedroom to get on his tux, praying that everything went well tonight.
The stylists left around 5:50 leaving you with long, wavy curls, a beautiful, glammed up makeup look, and a white and black French manicure. Roger was waiting for you downstairs, pacing back and forth from his nerves.
“You ready down there?” You called.
“ ‘Course! Been dying to see you all day.” He smiled.”
“Okay then,” you said, opening the door to walk down to him, his head flicking up as you appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Wow.” He said, breath taken away from him.
You lowly made your way down, careful not to slip on any photos as he picked you up off the last step, spinning you around as he kissed your cheek.
“You look gorgeous. Just like I imagined this dress would look.” He gushed.
“So you really did design it?”
“Yup.”
“Wow.” You didn’t know what to say. “Not that I want you to stop, but why all the gifts today?” You smiled, caressing his cheek.
“You’ll find out later.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple as he grabbed your hand, leading you out the front door to his car. “Hey, has anyone ever told you that you should be a model?” He joked.
“Oh shut up.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He brought you to the Cordón Bleu, the most expensive restaurant in London. As he pulled up, he said, “You go inside, Love. I’m going to park the car. I’ll be in in a minute.” The two of your separated with a quick kiss as you strutted inside, cameras flashing in your face.
When you walked in, the receptionist at the front desk called your name, shocking you. “Y/N?”
“Oh my god, Mark?!” You ran over to him, embracing him in a hug. You and Mark hooked up a couple times in college when you and Roger were still just friends.
“Hi! You look amazing!”
“Oh, thank you! So do you! How’s life?”
“It’s alright,” he laughed. “You seem to have made out much better than I did.”
“Well, Roger made out well. I just happened to be his girlfriend.” You laughed.
“Yeah. Believe me, I know about that.” He laughed. Just then Roger walked in. “But everything they’ve been saying is true. You’re really the most beautiful girl in England.”
Roger heard what he said. Saw who it was. Mark. His blood boiled in his veins, fist wrapping tightly around the ring box.
“Thank you,” you blushed, as Roger’s arm snaked its way around your waist.
“Oh, Darling look! It’s Mark!” You smiled.
“Hey.” Roger stated, monotone, as he stuck out his hand to shake Mark’s.
“Hey, mate! Great to see you again. You music with Queen is some of my favorites. Always gush about how I went to college with you two! Anyways, Y/N. I saw your interview the other day, for your first interview you did great. I was very interested.” He smiled. He didn’t mean it maliciously at all, however Roger took it the wrong way.
“Thank yo-” You started, but Roger cut you off.
“Hey, Mark, was it? I’d really prefer it if you didn’t talk about my girlfriend’s tits in front of me. Or actually, how about you just don't talk about them at all?” He snapped, catching you and Mark off guard.
“I-I wasn’t.” Mark stuttered.
“What has gotten into you?!” You whispered in Roger’s ear as he grabbed your hand protectively as he approached the host table which Mark stood behind.
“If you don’t mind, mate, I’d like to be seated now.” Roger coldly insisted.
“Of course, you had the private room upstairs rented out, right?”
Roger nodded.
“Alright then, this way.” Mark said, clearly uncomfortable.
“Actually,” Roger interjected, “would you mind if she brought us to our seats? I don’t need someone from my past ruining this day for me.” He said, coldly snapping at Mark.
Mark looked at him, confused to say the least. Your expression matched his, astonished that Roger could be so rude.
“Excuse me, Ann. Mr. Taylor would like you to bring him and Ms. Y/L/N to their room.” he said.
“Sure, right this way.” She smiled, leading the two of you to the stairs.
Roger’s grip on your hand was tight. You followed the hostess first as he trailed behind you, leaving one last dig as he said, “Oh, and Mark. Make sure you’re not our waiter.”
You gasped back at him in disbelief.
The room was gorgeous, there were roses everywhere, a table lit by candlelight waiting for the two of you in the center. Roger pulled out your seat for you, sitting across from you as he looked down in concentration.
Avoiding looking at you.
He tapped his fingers on the menu to keep himself occupied, his nostrils flaring in anger. The silence in the room was deafening; you could literally cut the tension with a knife.
“Roger,” you tentatively started, “Darling, I think you might be confused. That was Mark, remember? Remember how we used to all hang out in college?”
“I remember hearing you scream his name on the other side of the wall as he fucked you to sleep each night for a couple months.” He snapped back, eyes locking with yours.
“Okay, what is your problem? We never fight like this, we tell each other everything!” You exclaimed.
“You want to know my problem, Y/N? Tonight was supposed to be perfect, but that asshole just went and ruined it. Showed me we’re not actually exclusive.”
“What’re you talking about? Roger we’ve been exclusive for the last three years!”
“I knew I should have properly asked you out so you knew we were in a relationship. Then other guys wouldn’t think you’d just fuck them behind my back.”
“Roger! How dare you? I’d never cheat on you! We’ve lived together for eight years. I thought you knew me better than that.”
“Obviously not; I saw the way he was flirting with you.” He whined.
“So what if he was flirting with me? I wasn’t flirting with him! That’s what’s important! And I wouldn’t flirt with him, or anyone else for that matter, Roger, because I’m in love with you. Besides, if I’m going to be a model, you’ve got to get used to people hitting on me, and be confident that I love you and only you. What more do I need to say?” You said, throwing your hands up in exasperation.
“Really?”
“Yes!” You sighed. It was silent for a moment as the waitress came in to pour your champagne and take your orders, then silent for a little while longer. He broke the silence.”
“I’m sorry, Love.” He finally muttered.
You looked up at him, awaiting more of an apology as two salads were placed in front of the two of you.
“I don’t know what came over me,” he continued, “I had such a perfect idea of today in my mind with the photos, and the flowers, and the dress, and dinner, and then, well you know, but then I saw him. Saw the way he looked at you, remembered how he made you feel all those years ago, and I just couldn’t handle it. I’d never been more jealous in my life. I don’t ever want to live without you.”
“Rog,” you smiled, reaching across to grab his hand. “I don’t ever want to live without you either. You don’t have to worry, Baby. I’m not going anywhere.” You finally had brought a smile to his face. “So what if there was a little hiccup in your perfect day? There’s been so much good, it doesn’t even matter.” You smiled.
“Yeah,” he agreed, leaning across to peck your lips, deciding to wait until the end of the meal to pop the question.
“And besides, the sex with you has always been much better.” You winked.
~~~~
Your meal was great, honestly the best food you’d ever had. Roger’s mood improved drastically as the night went on, the two of you joking and laughing per usual. At the end of your romantic dinner you were sharing a huge piece of six layer chocolate cake, Roger putting Fred Astaire’s version of The Way You Look Tonight on the record player in the corner of the room. Roger kept taking photos of you with his Polaroid camera, made you laugh by saying you could add them to the floor when you got home. You could tell he was nervous about something, kept stuttering on about every word he said, sweat dripping from his forehead.
“Okay,” he whispered, blowing out a huff of air and catching your attention. “So I’m sure you’ve realized this isn’t your normal date, right? I mean I think I’ve managed to go a little more “all out” than I usually do, right?”
“Yes, Roger.” You laughed. “Look around us. Look at my dress, my makeup, my nails. You’ve certainly set the standard for the best date ever.”
“Good, good.” He looked down, nodding to arrange his thoughts. “Okay,” he said, getting up and grabbing your hands as he pulled you up, walking to the window to overlook the city skyline. “Y/N. I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you, that first day back at uni. You’re the only girl I’ve ever been nervous to ask out and, hey, I guess I never did.” He said, making the two of you laugh.
“What’re you doing?” You said, choked up as you knew what was coming next.
“But I never had to ask you out, Love. That’s what makes things so great between us. We just work. But I don’t want it to be like that for the next big milestone in our relationship, that’s why I’m doing what I am now, because I want everything to be perfect. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on inside and out, and I can’t imagine spending any day not waking up next to you and I don’t want to. You’re my other half, Love, you complete me better than anyone else ever has and I’m never going to let anything change that. I’m so happy at where we are now and I’m ready to start a life with you start a family with you, Y/N. I know we’re young but that doesn’t change the way I feel for you. So, Darling,” he started, getting down on one knee as you gasped. “Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, please baby, please do me the honor of making me the happiest man in the world, by being my wife. Y/N,” he said, taking a box out of his pocket and opening it in front of you. “Will you marry me?”
“Oh my god.” You gasped, tears openly flowing down both of your faces. He looked nervous, unsure of what your face meant. “Yes, yes, a million times yes!” You screamed, as he scooped you up in his arms, spinning you around as your lips connected passionately.
“Oh my god,” you continued, smile never leaving your face. You were shaking from shock and excitement. “It all makes sense now,” you laughed. “Why you got so jealous. It doesn’t matter. I love you so much.” You smiled, connecting your lips to his.
“You gonna put it on? Spent a lot of money on it, it’s the least you could do.” He joked.
“Of course.” You smiled. “Wait, my hands are too shaky I don’t wanna drop it, can you?” You asked, making him laugh as he took the ring out of the box.
“Sure, Love. You’re too cute.” He chuckled. “And look, there’s our initials on the inside of the ring.”
That just made you cry of joy even more as he slipped the ring on your finger, the two of you a crying, smiling, laughing, kissing mess.
Roger paid the bill and the two of you walked out laughing together, hand in hand. He scooped you in his arms bridal style as you stepped out of the building, cameras immediately in your face, photographers screaming,
“Y/N!”
“Roger!”
“Mr. Taylor, what’s the occasion!”
He set you down as you walked to Vogue, the biggest editorial that was there.
“You wanna know what’s going on?” You asked, silencing the crowd and chorus of questions along with it.
“We’re getting married!” You said, shooting your hand out as countless cameras were snapped, the photographers taking your “engagement photos” all of which actually came out well. You were mailed the prints a week or so later.
“Thank you!” They shouted after the two of you.
“Thank you, Miss. Y/L/N!”
“Hey!” You turned around, looking at Roger as he read your mind, knowing what you were about to say so he just said it for you.
“You can start calling her Mrs. Taylor.” The two of you smiled, Roger scooping you up to bring home his fiancée.
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A/N: I’m also so proud of this one! As always, send an ask of a plot and I’ll write you a oneshot, and let me know what you think of this one!