Queen Imagines 🌟

Enemies to Lovers Prompt 18 (Part 1): Roger Taylor

Prompt: "It seems like I'm out of fucks to give, oops."

A/N: Thanks for requesting this  xx!! I hope you love it. Also sorry I kind of just decided to write a war and piece length one shot lol. So I am breaking it into 2 parts. 

Part One: 

I run my hand along the curve of the gold pendant, carefully setting in down on the desk as to not tangle it with its chain. The necklace is beautiful, but I won't be wearing it, not when it was gifted to me by someone who doesn't deserve the satisfaction of seeing it on me in the first place.

In fact, gifted is a strong word. If I remember correctly, the exact way he phrased it was "Abigail thought this was ugly so I'm giving it to you." Thanks, Roger. Really, thanks. And who's Abigail? Probably the latest fling in a long string of one night stands, though getting a gift must mean she's made it past some twisted test. The thought just makes me more annoyed, so I shake my head and try to press it away.

The clock to the side of the hotel room wardrobe tells me it's a quarter past 9, which means we need to leave...approximately half an hour ago. I'm sure I'll be given crap for being late but that would be the case either way since Roger Taylor is attending the listening party. His very presence ensures I'm given crap, whether it's by him or his date.

Speaking of dates, I have no one joining me for the listening party. My best friend from London, Mira, was meant to come around for a visit, but she has the flu. Over the many years of my being Freddie's assistant, she's got to attend many events and will definitely be to more in the future.

She's absolutely crushed seeing as she loves the boys, even Roger, who is actually decent to her. He probably just wants in his pants, but little does he know, she's a lesbian. I won't tell him, though. It's nicer for him to suffer in silence. Besides, even if she did like guys, she would never go for him. She's the only one in the world that knows about my horrifying little, okay huge, nonsensical crush on him. The same one I've had for years on end.

I try to quiet these vindictive thoughts as I open the door to my room and step into the hallway. I'm in casual sneakers since the listening party is just at a small venue with drinks, appetizers, and a lowkey vibe. Then again, is anything with this band ever lowkey? Freddie will probably enter the room, arms spread wide, wearing a feather boa. The thought makes me giggle, he may be my boss but Freddie is my best friend, and I wouldn't change him for the world.

I walk down to the car where John and Brian are waiting for me. Their dates are meeting us there. Given that Freddie arrived early to do some signing of merchandise, it should be just us and......

On cue, Roger walks, or should I say stumbles, down the hall with who I can only presume is Abigail. She's tall, has deep auburn hair, and the body of a literal swimsuit model. All of this tracks. Despite myself, I try to give them a nice smile and wave in greeting. He looks frustratingly breathtaking.

Abigail drunkenly pushes past me and says "Wait there's only three seats in the back, Roggie! Even if I sit on your lap, we aren't all going to fit. Can't she ride separately?"

I'm not sure if it's the glass of cabernet I drank in the hotel room or just a general sense of sadness following Mira not making it, but I feel something uncomfortable in my gut. Not in the traditional sense of anger I feel towards Roger, but rather just hurt feelings. Hoping it doesn't read on my face, I quietly say "They're putting another row up in the back, don't worry. I'll sit there like I usually do when the group's bigger."

My voice comes out smaller than I want it but I look up to a reassuring smile from John. He squeezes my arm gently. Him and his intuition never cease to amaze me.

Abigail (at least I think this is her, haven't exactly verified in the minute of being in front of her), doesn't deign to reply. She just grabs Rogers hand impatiently and moves toward the car. As they walk away, I notice a puzzled Roger look back at me. He almost looks like he wants to say something, but I'm grateful when he just turns around and keeps walking.

The car ride is uneventful. Deacy tries to convince me he wants to sit in the back, but one look at his long gangly legs and he relents and lets me occupy it. I really don't mind anyways, it gives me time to myself to think over how I am not going to be socially awkward tonight.

Roger and Abigail, look at this point she's Abigail forever, are giggling loudly over something he's whispering in her ear. I catch myself staring for a moment when Abigail shoots me cutting glare. I look down at my hands and hear her mumble to Roger "your maid is really weird."

Ah yes, a maid, that is riding in a car to the listening party. Really great logic! He knows how to pick them.

I feel my face flush and look down at my hands. Brian turns to his left to look at her and Roger and says "that's incredibly rude of you to say. Y/N is our executive assistant and has worked with us for many years. And we like weird around here. Have you met Roger?"

She rolls her eyes "it's called a joke." She exaggerates the last word as low Brian is too slow to comprehend what she's saying.

"Jokes are meant to be funny," Deacy quietly pops up.

"You thought it was funny, didn't you Roger?" she turns to him and places her hand on his upper thigh. For a moment he looks between me and her, and I think for a second he may do the right thing. He may disagree with her. His brow furrows and his lips part, but then he seems to catch himself. His face breaks into a smirk and he leans in for a kiss.

"So funny, love" he winks at her. Something turns in my stomach. Usually that wink secretly sends me to pieces. His smirk is annoyingly attractive in the worst ways. Half the time having a crush on my enemy feels like a dangerous curse. But what I feel now is far from any of it. My stomach plummets and, to my horror, tears spring to my eyes.

I don't expect Roger to like me--I see the girls he can be with, believe me. However, it does sting to know he thinks this lowly of me. I blink away the tears furiously and pretend to busy myself with retying my shoe lace. I feel his eyes linger on me but moments later the car pulls to a stop.

Shit. I rub my eyes careful not to smear my makeup. Clamoring out of the back seat I make a beeline to the door. I need to find Freddie and a stiff drink.

I see the drink station first. I nearly run to it, but compose myself. I order a gin and tonic and have to prevent myself from audibly sighing when I take the first sip. Soon, it begins to warm my stomach. I socialize with the group after getting a huge hug and photo with Freddie. Just as I am turning to go greet Deacy and his date, I feel a tap on my arm.

Roger Taylor is standing opposite me when I turn around. My skin goes cold where he touched me and all I can get out is "excuse me."

"Y/N, wait, about the car.." he begins but I am already walking away. Thankfully the familiar anger has replaced the sadness. It's one thing to be rude in the car, but now that we're here can't he please just leave me alone? I've worked hard for this too. I just want to feel like I belong here.

"I've got to go..." I keep walking, but then I feel it again, his hand gripping my elbow. I turn to see his cheeks are slightly flushed and his expression is closer to a grimace than before.

"Can't you at least pretend to give a fuck about what I have to say?" he demands. I almost scoff but instead I deadpan. Does he not understand that I do give a fuck? I have given so many fucks, and guess what, it hurts more every time I do.

I shake my head completely baffled by him and his ignorance. "Go find your date Roger," I manage to get this out before he cuts me off again.

"See? This is exactly what I mean. You don't even know what I'm going to say," he tries to continue but I place one hand forward and hit his chest, cursing internally at the sparks it gives me.

"Roger, it doesn't matter what you say. It's going to be cruel. And you know what? You're right, I don't give a fuck. In fact, it seems like I am completely out of fucks to give. Oops." The last part slips out, but for some reason, I don't regret it. The only thing I regret is giving him any insight to my emotional charge over this. Oh, and the fact, that I am completely lying and it's starting to kill me inside.

Now,  I do run instead of walking. I run away from him as quickly as my feet can take me, and I don't look back once.