Mistakes
BoRhap!John Deacon x Reader
BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader
(A/N) Y’all better not come for me for hurting my boy Deaky like this, I already hate myself for doing this to him lol. But I had this idea...may or may not be kinda based off a true-ish story...but anyways I really like this. So, enjoy this angst and saucy stuff, also I know this is hardcore out of character for Roger sorry lol I’m not good with making up OC’s. My messages and inbox always open as usual! If you like please reblog!
Warnings: NSFW at parts, smut, cheating, fluff, angst, swearing, alcohol, backstabbing, this story has it all
Words: 3.2K
Holding your hand up in a fist, shaking, you only need to knock on the door. Your ghostly knuckles rest against the door and you glaze over, thinking about how many time you’ve entered John’s flat and how this last time it will be to break his heart.
You throw back another shot, having lost count a while ago.
“I shouldn’t have agreed to date him, we are so different. He’s...safe. He’s the nice guy.” This came out as mocking. You slump back on the sofa against Roger.
“You’re more badass, maybe the contrast is good.” Roger tries to persuade you, knocking past another drink of his. More than he can count on one hand.
Ignoring him completely, you spew out “He was my closest friend, I felt bad saying no! Plus, I thought I’d lose him altogether, along with you and Brian and Freddie if I didn’t.” You point last him at the door of your flat as if the rest of the guys were there with you. “Plus he kept asking me out, maybe I was desperate? I don’t know.” You try to validate your feelings, as you have been for a while.
“Don’t try to force anything, and you won’t lose us, I promise.” Roger meant this. He stands up shakily, pulling you up after him.
“Thanks, Rog,” you and Roger lean into a hug, you both supporting each other barely able to see straight. You wobble and nuzzle your face into his neck, breathing out into his collarbone. Roger kisses your forehead in an endearing way. Your hands roam to his face, and you glance up at him. His blue eyes seem to beg for you, even though his face showed pity on you and your situation.
Roger moved his hands clumsily across your back, stopping right above the waistband of your pants.
In response to his forehead kiss you lightly brush your lips below his ear, he lets out a small breath, as if to urge your further.
Without thought, you pull his face towards yours slowly, forehead resting on his, enticing him further. You stare at his lips, thin and shiny from the last sip of vodka he had.
Roger is dazed by the dirty thoughts he’s had about you since Deaky first brought you into the group. The right black skirt you had worn with a white fur coat. He wanted you to be wearing that, and only that. He moves his hands down across the curves of your ass, gripping them lightly, biting his lip as he gets distracted by your lips, puckering slightly. You leans in as response. The feeling of his lips on yours makes your stomach burn. Roger was a risk. He was what you needed.
You grab his hair and push his face even harder into yours, begging him for more attention.
Roger picks you up with no trouble, never breaking his tongue from yours. Carrying you across your flat into your bedroom he tosses you onto the bed. You lay there heaving your chest, “Mm, Roger,” you moan out as he stands over you at the edge of the bed.
Roger slips off his shirt, throwing it on the floor. His chest muscles were toned and prominent, more so than John’s. It made you thirsty, craving the rough satisfaction that you know Roger will give you, rather than John who was always gentle and giving. You lean up on your elbows and grab Roger’s belt, pulling him on top of you clumsily. You knock your head into his shoulder, making the room spin more than it already was. You search for his face to connect with yours again. Roger finds yours first, grabbing you hair and pulling your head back away from him, he brushes his lips across yours, pulling back your head when you try to kiss him again, teasing, making your body grind into his in protest.
Your hands start fumbling with his belt, shaking in anticipation of the large bulge in his pants, aching to be satisfied by you.
“Off,” is all Roger can demand out tugging at your top, briefly removing his mouth from the side of your neck, away from the bruises he was leaving in a trail down to the collar. He pulls off your top and swiftly removes your pants, hunger overcoming him for your body.
You loved the demand, Roger wanted to be satisfied, there was no barrier. You were both wasted, wanting your thirst to be quenched.
Roger helps you guide his pants down, showing off his length, “oh fuck,” you gasp out, shocked by what the drummer has been hiding all this time. Roger gives a smirk, eager to please you.
You lay your head back in ecstasy as Roger thrusts into you, moaning out your name. The sound of someone else uttering your name is incredibly satisfying. You claw at Rogers back roughly as he grips onto your arms, leaving light bruises every time he thrust into you. Roger’s pace quickens, both of your moans filling the space of your room, digging your nails deep into his back you came the hardest you ever had, and for that moment, John wasn’t on your mind. Waking up, the room smells of cigarettes and realization. Through your pounding headache and sore throat, the realization of what you have done, and what needs to be done now. Roger’s naked body lays next to you, fast asleep, dreaming of what was a blur from the night before.
Stepping into your bathroom you stare at your body, large bruises cover your neck and arms, there is no possible way of explaining yourself out them. They were sex marks, John had never given them to you. He was a gentle lover, that wasn’t your like though. You needed it hard a rough, as Roger had done the night before. You drop down against the tub, knees to your chest and break out into a full sob. You have to tell John, but it will break his heart, even more than it already was from the argument you had last night, which led you right into Roger’s arms for comfort. Too much comfort.
This was so out of character for both of you, you never cheated, you never even thought about cheating seriously. Sometimes your mind would roam but actions were never taken. And Roger, it was one of his best friends. You know that it would never happen again. You can’t tell John it was Roger, you wouldn’t do that to either of them. It was bad enough already.
You use the back of your hand to vigorously wipe the tears away from your cheeks, which were now numb from the crying. You take a deep breath and walk cautiously into your bedroom, so not to wake Roger. You throw on the first clothes you can find and leave your apartment to walk to Deaky’s.
The wind stings your damp cheeks, but you barely notice, focusing on what you were going to say, you step slowly down the road. Thinking back to when you first met about a year ago.
—
“Is this seat taken?” A perky voice asks, tearing your attention away from the maths equation you been stuck on for half an hour.
You look up to a shaggy haired boy, tall and lengthy, carrying a stack of textbooks.
“Oh, no, it’s all yours.” You gesture to the empty seat next to you. The university library was fairly crowded due to upcoming exams, so sharing a table was no big deal.
He drops his books onto the table, creating a loud boom and creating a gust that sends your paper scattering across the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” he pleads, bending down to help pick up your papers. He collects all the loose work and hands them to you, lightly grazing your hand as he does so. You blush and he gives a small smile.
“Thank you,” Sitting back into your chair you glance at his books, “electronics I see…” The boy nods in agreement.
You tap your pencil against your papers, “Any chance you’re good at math?” He give him a side eye and a sweet smile.
The boy chuckles and nods, “Yeah, I’m John Deacon.”
“(Y/N),” you respond, taking his outstretched hand in yours.
—-
You thought about how after that, you went out for lunch or coffee as much as possible. You grew very fond of him, he was a bright light in your dreary days. Finding out John played bass in bands, drew you closer to him, he brought you to concerts and outings. It gave you something to talk about. After a while, it was almost the only thing you talked about. Even more so when he joined Queen. He brought you with to grow close with Freddie, Roger, and Brian. You’d follow them to concerts, to practice, and even on tour. They were your family, and you could approach them with anything.
You stop at a crosswalk a few blocks from John’s home, waiting for the light to change. A memory flashes of the first interest from John you had heard.
“Deaky totally has it in for her.” Roger teases, setting up the drum set in the corner of the studio.
“How do you even know that?” Brian hesitates, crossing his arms. He was always looking out for you, like a big brother would.
“He told me,” Roger comebacks with, “since he first met her he fancied her. I mean I can see why, who wouldn’t.”
You were outside the studio door, listening in. You had arrived early before John, maybe too early.
You lean against the door a little too hard and it clicks open, Roger and Brian snap their eyes to yours, bugging out of your head.
Roger blushes slightly and turns away so you don’t notice, even though you had heard all of what he said.
Brian whispers, “How much did you hear?”
“John really feels that way?” You were freaked, honestly.
Roger just nods his head lightly. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” He instantly regrets saying anything, it wasn’t his secret to share.
You face grows warm and you lean back against the wall of the studio. “Oh no.” Is all you can say. “I don’t think I feel that way about him. I...I don’t even want a relationship…I don’t think.”
Brian and Roger give looks to each other, knowing they made a mistake.
“Why don’t you go home, we’ll tell him something came up.” Brian nods to you, putting his hand on your shoulder and guiding you to the door.
“Alright.” Was all you could say while you thought about all of how you feel and what exactly you wanted.
Stepping across the street and rounding the corner to John’s street, you remember the first kiss you shared. How whenever you spent time with John, you would cuddle up with him, through any movie or late night. It was a habit, you and him were close, mentally and physically. It was a late night recording session. You listened, relistened, and then listened again to the backing track of John’s bass line. Every time he wasn’t happy with it, you’d roll your eyes and laugh, watching him saunter back into the booth to play some more.
“That’s the one I know it.” He finally says, jolting your eyes open from your doze. He plops down next to you on the couch, you lay your head on his shoulder, ready to listen to the track. As the music plays in the background you look up at John, who is mouthing the words. He begins to shake his shoulders to dance, knocking your head around. You pull your head up and hit his shoulder lightly with you hand, laughing because he disrupted your relaxation. You let your hand rest there and watch him, eyes closed and completely lost in the music.
The soft light of the studio is creating an angelic glow around his head. He really was your angel. Your first true friend at university, the one who made you feel most comfortable and most at home while away from home. He brought with him more family, Brian, Freddie, and Roger. Your heart swells at your happiness and you lean in, planting a light kiss on his cheek. John snapped away from the music and smiled at you, face red. Without a word, John leaned in quickly, kissing you on the lips. Caught of guard you kiss him back, lightly. You’re the first to pull away.
You stop at the steps leading up to John’s door. After the kiss, you hadn’t spent much time with him alone. Until he asked you to lunch, afterward, you walk with him home. On these same steps he had asked you to be his girlfriend.
“(Y/N), would you be my girlfriend?” He had said hopefully.
“Sure, John.” You weren’t sure at the time. You’re feelings for him weren’t that strong, but you thought they could possibly grow over time. “I’ll be your girlfriend.” You have a small smile. But it was nothing compared to his. John gave you a small peck on the lips and said goodbye. Leaving you to walk home, contemplating your feelings. They were the same as what you had told Roger last night: you weren’t sure, you’re feelings weren’t strong, you were very different. John was a gentle soul, wanting to give you the world, his desire was to please you. He would buckle over and agree with you, to make you happy. It was incredibly sweet, but that wasn’t what you wanted, you wanted the fight, the give and take that comes with someone who wants the best for you, but the best for themselves too. It didn’t feel perfect as a relationship should.
Walking up the steps, your shaky hand resting your white knuckles against his wooden door. The argument that led you into the previous events.
“I love you (Y/N). You make me so happy.” He paused, smiling sweetly across the dinner table at you. That was the first time he had mentioned love.
You didn’t respond, just stared at the peas on your plate, pushing them around with a fork.
“Maybe one day you can move in here with me, make it easier to bring you to gigs.” He had uncomfortably laughed that out, noticing your silence. “(Y/N), did you hear me?”
You looked up at him, his words running through your mind. “John, I…”
His face dropped. Knowing the words you won’t be saying.
You sigh deeply, looking down again. “I’m not there yet, I’m sorry.” You didn’t know what else to say.
You could see John’s jaw clench.
“John, I don’t think I’ll want to move in with you.” You couldn’t tell him the reason, you didn’t see this relationship in the long term. “I’ll be far from work.” You lied. He knew you too well for you to lie successfully.
“That’s not the reason is it.” He whispers.
“I don’t know John! It’s all just a lot right now! School and work and...and a relationship!” You accidentally shouted out. Face going red with frustration.
John sat back in his chair, now afraid to make eye contact with you. “What are you saying?” He says, flat toned.
“I don’t know I just need space for tonight! I think I need fresh air.” You had removed yourself from the table, grabbing your bag and leaving through his front door. Not looking back at him. The first clear thought you had on the way home was to call Roger, invite him over for drinks, and rant to him, as good friends let each other do.
—
You leave three heavy knocks on the door.
Your stomach felt heavy, your heart racing as the doorknob turned.
Standing in front of you is an obviously sleep deprived John who instantly pulls you into a tight hug. “ I’m sorry for last night, I shouldn’t have pushed you so far.” He apologizes. You loosely hug him back. You wanted the fight, you needed him to not apologize and yell back at you. He never did.
You pull away from his embrace, causing him to raise an eyebrow. You could barely look at him, but he yanks his arms away upon gazing at your neck. Covered completely in hickeys. The look on his face is discuss, followed immediately by him biting his cheek blinking back tears.
“John, I’m sorry.” Is all you can choke out. Tears start to fall from your eyes slowly.
“Don’t.” He hisses out. Taking a step back away from you.
You step forward reaching to grab his hand, but as your fingers graze his he yanks them away, “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“John, it was a moment of weakness, I was drunk, I’m so, so sorry.” You choke out between sobs. You needed his comfort, the safety of John and his future.
“Bullshit. That’s not an excuse.” He snaps. Back turned. “Who was it?”
You think of Roger’s sweaty, drunken body hovering over yours, pleasuring you like never before.
“No one,” you lie, “a random guy from a bar.” You squeak your words out, hoping John doesn’t catch your fib.
But he is too heartbroken to notice. He turns toward you eyes never leaving your devoured neck as he spoke, “I’m in love with you.” He utters lowly. Eyes beet red from his tears. You’ve never seen him in so much pain.
“I don’t feel that way. I’ve been trying to, it’s just not working.” Every word is like a punch in the face to him.
“I can’t be with you John. It isn’t right.” You shake your head, relieved to finally be saying the thoughts you’ve had for months. “We want different things.”
John raises his hand over his heart and squeezes his shirt, as if you went in and stabbed him with a butcher knife. He’s silent, tears falling down his cheeks, wetting the collar of his button down.
“Please leave.” He forces out.
“I’m sorry.” You say as you reach behind you, opening the door to the outside world. You never wanted to hurt him as you did. You truly were sorry, if only he would know.
“Don’t say that. If you were...you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.” His words spit out like venom.
You push your loose hair behind your ear and wipe the wetness off your cheek, knowing there’s some truth in what he said. “I hope you find someone deserving of you, John.” Meaning your words, you glance back before shutting the door, but he has already turned away, walking deep into his home.
You shut the door of John’s home, as to your relationship and best friend.
Slowly walking down his concrete steps, you put your hand over your chest as he did, knowing you had truly broken John Deacon’s heart.
Taglist: @rogerswig
