#borhap!roger taylor

[oscar-piastri]

#i love this outfit a lot

[har-rison-s]

i was born to love you: one

request: Ok! Well, could you write a Ben!Roger story? He has an affair with some girl and cheats on the reader but she finds out and the relationship is over. He regrets what he did to her right away and everytime he sees her hanging out with the group (cause she is friends with the boys and Mary) he feels embarrased and sad. He wants her back so he writes a song for her (maybe I Was Born To Love You or a song of your choice) and Idk… a happy ending, please? Is that okay for you?

A/N: Love this idea. Angst is my favourite to write. Hope this meets your dreams, and thank you for requesting. I split this into multiple parts, because I tend to do so haha. Hope you enjoy. Happy reading!

warnings: infidelity, drug use (very slight).

series masterlist

main masterlist

borhap masterlist

borhap!roger masterlist

Roger sits on the edge of the hotel bed, head down and shoulders slumped. He's tired, drunk and hangover, about to smoke his mind out. But he can't bring himself to even stand up, his eyes fixed on staring at the floor, blown wide and not moving at all. How could he ever do this?

The cause for his greatest regret starts to move around the bed and makes noises that cut like knives into his nerves. Roger can't help but groan out, and her rolling closer to him makes him stand up immediately. Her hands are empty.

He wants to tell her to get out, shout at her, but mostly himself, but Roger realises that he can't even remember her name. He just wants her out of here, out of his sight, out of his life, wishing she'd never been in it at all. 

Roger wishes most of all that he'd never met or seen her while he walks to the small fridge in his hotel room. He opens the door only to meet utter disappointment—there are no drinks left in the fridge. Roger sighs and looks around the rest of the room. It's full of empty beer and whiskey bottles, cigarette butts and plastic cups. Fuck's sake...

“Morning, Roger.” The naked girl in his bed greets him, and Roger glances at her over his shoulder. She's got the hotel bedding wrapped around her, and it's good that she has. His immediate response to seeing her is comparing her every feature to the ones Y/N has. And that makes hie eyes gloss over.

“You can go.” He says to her simply, turning around and pouring himself a glass of water, blinking his tears away. 

“But what if I want to stay?” She asks and Roger shakes his head. He turns around and leans his back against the counter, drinking his water. His eyes fix on her. She's, of course, good-looking, as all the women in the world are, but she can't compare to Y/N.

“Please go.” Roger replies and gestures for the door. “The breakfast is still available downstairs, I think, so...” He trails off, not really knowing what to say. “But don't come back.”

The expression on the girl's face saddens, but she understands. She would have never expected the one and only Roger Taylor to ask her to stay, and even ask her for more. He's famous, and has a girlfriend, after all. She can't help hoping that Y/N Y/L/N won't find out about them two sleeping together. She's just for fun, and she doesn't want to be the reason of a lovely relationship ending. 

She puts on all her clothes and walks out of Roger's hotel room, smiling at him before she does. He doesn't respond in any way, but sighs contently after she leaves. 

Roger calls for room service to clean everything up and throw out the trash. While the old lady does her duty, Roger takes a long shower. He wanted to take a bath, but decided against it when thinking that he'll probably fall asleep there. He has other plans.

Once the cleaning lady has left and Roger's done rolling himself a joint, he lits the end of it and sits on the floor, his back resting against the bed, and he takes a long, deep drag. He needs marijuana to erase any memory of last night and what he's done. Roger was in a dilemma between calling Y/N and telling her about it the second he realised he's been unfaithful and not telling her ever and making himself forget it ever happened.

He can't, of course, control what the girl of the night will do—will she tell the whole world she's slept with Roger Taylor or will she keep quiet. He wishes for both. Roger wishes for a lot of things right now, but none of those things are losing Y/N. 

Roger doesn't even know where she is right now. They came to the party together, but he lost her at one point during the night, but then he thinks she's probably with Deaky, her close friend. That's how they met - through John. When Queen had finally formed and it was time for their first gig, Deaky took Y/N to see them. She was so proud and happy at the gig, and watched all of the guys individually. Then John introduced her to the rest of the band, and Roger had fallen in love with her from the first glance. So had she.

Roger chuckles at the memory and looks up at the ceiling. His eyes are completely red from smoking his joint, and he can't even see properly. He wants to cry so much, but fears that his eyes will start bleeding if he does so. 

How will he ever live with this?

ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ ˇ

“Hi, my love!” Y/N cheers once she comes inside Roger's hotel room. “Sorry, I got up late and then got caught up at breakfast...” She sighs. Her face is free of make-up, laced with lack of sleep and tiredness, but she covers all that up by a bright smile that makes her shine like the actual sun. She searches for Roger in the room, but she can't quite find him. Then she spots his hand on the edge of the bed.

Y/N furrows her eyebrows and puts her things down, walking around the big bed after doing so. Roger's passed out in a sitting position, his left arm resting on his bed and his head almost reaching his lap. Y/N kneels down before him and takes both his cheeks in her small hands, lifting his face up. His face doesn't move a nerve.

“Roger.” She says, trying to wake him up. He still doesn't react. Y/N grins as she knows what will wake Roger up—he hates when Y/N touches his eyes. She stretches down the skin below his left eye with her thumb, doing the same with the skin above the same eye. She notices his eyes are blood-shot. He's been smoking, and surely not just cigarettes. 

There's a groan from Roger and he moves his head away from Y/N's invading fingers. There's a glad smile on her face and she sighs quietly. She moves Roger's face back to her and he squints his eyes, opening them slowly. He's very confused at first, but his eyes focus on Y/N.

“Good morning, Rog.” She says with a soft smile. The corner of his lips tugs up slightly upon seeing her, but then his face changes as if he'd have a heart attack. He hasn't forgot what he did last night. “Why have you smoked your mind out?” Y/N asks. Her voice is so caring, and so innocent. She has no idea what he's done.

“Hi.” Roger finally speaks, his voice imitating the sound of a dog growling. Y/N chuckles and lets him yawn and have his morning stretch, sitting back on her knees. “What time is it?” Roger asks. 

“Almost two, day-time.” Y/N responds, glancing at her watch. “And you, mister, have a plane to catch. I hope you haven't messed your clothes up too much.” She says and pats Roger's leg. Roger looks at her, and his are the perfect example of guilty, though she doesn't see it. Not yet. 

Roger lunges at Y/N, taking her lips between his. His gesture surprises Y/N, and also the horrible smell of his breath, but she gives in. She feels like she hasn't seen Roger in ages. 

Roger's hands comb through her washed hair, and he kisses her more. He feels sad, almost like this would be the last time he can kiss her like this, freely. No matter what happens, he knows the truth will come out at some point. So Roger pulls Y/N even closer to him and kisses her like his life depends on it.

She can't deny the feeling that builds in her stomach from the way Roger's kissing her. But he's practically on the verge of passing out, and they have to get to the airport in time, and get all their stuff in their suitcases before that.

Y/N puts her hands on his cheeks and pushes him away slightly. “Missed me that much, have you?” She asks slowly, her eyes searching his. Roger is avoiding her stare, looking at her lips or even lower. “What's happened, Roger? Why have you smoked so much?”

Roger shrugs. “I just felt like it.” He tries his best. He falls against the bed and Y/N laughs, shaking her head. 

“Felt like being in a coma?” She asks. Roger nods and gives her a grin.

“Sorry, must have had no control over myself.” He tells her, fiddling with this hands and yawning again. Y/N smiles at him sweetly and stands up. 

“'S alright, as long as you don't die.” She says, walking past the bed. “But get up, we have to manage to be at the airport in an hour. Did you take a shower?”

“Yeah.” Roger says, staring through the window. “That was before I smoked.” He mumbles, but Y/N hears him. 

“Then go again, the water's free here.” Y/N chuckles, but Roger doesn't feel like laughing. “Rog. Get up! There's really not much time. And you're always taking long showers.” She says and groans at the last part. Roger grins and pushes out a breathy chuckle. He then stands up and walks over to where Y/N is, wrapping his arms around her slowly.

“Shower with me.” He says, almost begging as his hair tickles Y/N's shoulder and she laughs. 

“I already showered, I feel fresh enough.” She replies and turns around in Roger's hold, looking at him. Her pointer finger bumps his nose and he keeps looking at her lips. “Go.” Y/N laughs again while talking, and slaps Roger's butt. He bites his lip at that, but pulls away from his girl. While she's still his.

Roger nods and walks in a very lazy manner to the bathroom to shower for the second time that day. Y/N gets all his clothes into his suitcase while he's at it and also organises her own stuff, humming one of Queen's songs to herself. It's the end of their tour, and the band and their girls are about to go home. Y/N can't wait having Roger all to herself again for a long time.

[dailydrea]

Some of us are in love this guy and that's okay!!

[hollandroos]

bohrap!roger taylor, where reader is their band manager and he's in love with her, but he's afraid that she wants to keep it professional, but after a concert, queen comes out to greet their fans, and she tries to keep it orderly and roger saves her from getting trampled by groupies?

So I was supposed to get an early night but this request is so good as may as well do it before I sleep!!! I changed it up a little bit BUT I’m such a sucker for Band Manager!Reader x Borhap!Rog

THIS IS SO LONG I’M SORRY

You push through crowds of people, holding the papers you’d been passed close to your chest. You feared dropping them and even worse, them getting damaged. It didn’t seem like that big of a deal but the last thing you wanted was to lose your job as queens manager– even though you knew by now that the boys wouldn’t simply get rid of you due to messing up a few papers.

In fact the band actually adored you, specifically Roger Taylor.

“Excuse me.” You mutter, shoving through three people standing around the backstage area with beers and cigarettes in hand. You screw your face up at the smell, surprisingly still not being able to handle it even after spending so much time with the band. They didn’t move and you grimace. “I just need to get passed here.” 

Backstage was always hectic. The boys were pretty open, allowing fans and groupies to come backstage if they so desired and on some nights it got… well, insane. Tonight was one of those nights.

Besides, no one tended to take you seriously for some reason.

You let out a breath when they finally part and then you spot them, eyes landing on the boys near the back. 

You see a head of blonde hair on one of the couches and peek through crowds of girls, noticing Rogers skin was still glistening with a thin layer of sweat from the show and a cigarette hung loosely between his lips. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone.

He looked tired but holding up. Next to him, Brian signed posters. 

You knew that by now both of the boys would’ve been dying to get into the shower and clean off the remains of the show or at least climb under the covers and rest after what had been their biggest show yet.  

Being their manager, you were one of the only people that saw how much shows took out of them. You noticed how John almost refused to leave his room the next day and how Freddie wasn’t his usual preppy self until at least twelve hours or four beers later. 

Roger and Brian never showed the exhaustion very much but you were clever with facial expressions. Neither boys would tell the fans to leave despite the heavenly thought of a cold shower and sleep.

Your cheeks heat up when you see Roger inch away from a girl that tries to take a seat on his lap. He’d been doing that a lot lately– since admitting his feelings for you despite you turning him down. (by ‘that’ you meant distancing himself from groupies.) 

Don’t misread the situation, your feelings for the drummer were there and booming but the last thing you needed was for things to go badly and for news of your relationship or fling or whatever it was to get out to the press. They were rough. Also, the possibility of losing your job lingered, 

There were more fans then you could’ve expected and maybe wearing heels to shove through was your first mistake. But with arms crossed over your chest and a pile of papers including all of the boy’s tour details, you begin to shimmy through.

You were cautious of course, ignoring the glares and vile words from fans who were a little more then jealous of your connections. But the heels made it a little harder.

You were going okay and were actually only a few feet away from Roger, his eyes even caught yours before one girl pushes you– she fully shoves you from behind and you go crashing down in front of Roger, papers scattering all over the floor and his lap.

The girl that pushes you chuckles, placing a hand over her mouth as she notices your fallen features and suddenly drawn brows as you stare at the papers you’d tried so hard to protect. It didn’t matter to you that you’d grazed your knees and palms because they were a mess, out of order and everything.

“Right I’m going to need everyone to leave now!” Roger calls a little more aggressively then you think he realised. 

Brian stands up, beginning to clear people out once he’d realised what had happened and the fans are quick to complain. They don’t want to leave and you don’t want to be the reason they leave but the boys had had enough.

“Sorry guys, we’re all really tired and need to rest up for the rest of our tour.” Brian apologises but continues glancing across at you and Roger to make sure you’re okay. Roger was a little more worried then Brian, he was angrier too. Practically fuming. 

Brian makes no move to say any goodbyes to the fan that’d shoved you or her snickering friends. 

Roger helps you up after collecting papers that’d fallen in his lap and is careful not to touch your injured hands. He stares down, concern written all over his features.

“Are you okay? God, I saw everything that happened and I should’ve helped you get through.” The blonde asks, taking the rest of the papers from your hands.

Your cheeks flush, strands hair falling over your face in embarrassment. You want to disappear then and there.

“I’m okay but the schedules–”

He shakes his head, interrupting you. “Don’t worry about them, we can ask for another copy.” Roger brushes a strand of hair away from your face, wetting his lips as he tries to resist the urge to do something he’d been itching to do for a while now. “I knew it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt, I’m sorry it was you.”

“It isn’t your fault and it’s not mine either, she pushed me.” You collect the papers, hissing as a surge of pain runs through one of your legs.

Roger leads you to sit down, concern seeping into his chest. “You’re hurt, C'mon, I can get the first aid stuff.”

You shake your head but your heart warms at the offer– the fact that he cared enough to wait around for you was something else.

“You’re so tired and you need to shower–” You try. 

But the drummer was already dead set. 

“You’re hurt, I want to help you before I do anything else.”

[kinghyunjinn]

Dating BoRhap!Roger Taylor would include:

- You met at an afterparty

- Of course he being surrounded by all his groupies you didn’t think he would notice you

- But he did

- Probably because you couldn’t stop looking at him

- More like he saw you wearing a little black dress that left nothing to the imagination and was instantly turned on

- So he approached you and being the cocky bastard that he is he probably introduced himself with a pick up line

- “Do I know you? Cause you look a lot like my next girlfriend”

- That shouldn’t have impressed you, and in fact it didn’t

- “Sorry, you must have confused me with somebody else”

- You left him speechless

- Clearly you were playing hard to get

- Which obviously only interested him even more

- So he used every pick up line that knew of to impress you until you finally laughed

- After a while you let him invite you to a drink and you got along pretty quickly after that

- He invited you to one of the band’s rehearsals and of course you accepted

- He clearly wanted to impress you but failed totally, since he couldn’t keep his eyes off you and didn’t concentrate

- However you though it was cute the way he blushed when the rest of the guys lectured him

- Now about the dating part:

- You are weary the first months after you start dating

- Cause you don’t want to be one more groupie on his list

- And you know he doesn’t have the best reputation with girls

- But he makes sure to reassure you that you are the only one for him

- Prepare to have sex all the time,

- Like, ALL the time

- This man is insatiable

- Sex after a concert

- Sex in the morning

- Sex at band rehearsals

- Sex in public spaces

- Sex in the car

- Sex in hotel rooms

- Literally everywhere he could bend you

- And he’d eat you out for days

- (Until his jaw hurts)

- Not that you complain, of course

- but he can also be very sweet

- Calling you every night when he is gone on tour to say good night, cause he knows you miss him

- “Sleep well, love. I love you”

- And calling you every morning cause you love his deep voice when he wakes up

- “Good morning, love. Slept well?”

- Btw he would totally be the first to say “i love you”

- One day you’d be cuddling in bed, his arms around you, you resting with your head on his chest, and he would just whisper those three words, so softly.

- “I love you”

- You thought you’d explode from happiness

- Some random days you would find flowers on your doormat with a note that says “miss you”

- And you would tear up a little bit because this man is so cute and you love him so much

- Also, being away means that he is horny 100% all the time so he would probably ask you to have sex on the phone

- And when you two reunite you stick together like glue

- And everybody is annoyed because you two cannot stop touching each other

- I feel like he would totally love to hold hands with you all the time

- Or at least link your pinkies

- Cause that way he knows you are next to him

- And idk, you would be so happy together

[somekindofroger]

One Year of Love (Chapter 1)

BoRhap!Roger x Reader

(the pic is not my edit)

Summary: i did this post before explaining the story

A/N: Hello there, I decided to write the chapter one afterwards and I really hope you guys enjoy it. If some people enjoy it, I will definitely keep going on it. Please let me know what you guys think (any critics are welcome, but not hate pls) Thanks a lot for reading, love and hugs to y’all. Also, my first language isn’t English so some grammar errors may occur. Also, the story is around 1974, not historically accurate. The song that gives title to this fic it’s from 1986, technically it doesn’t fit on the period, but it’s just the name and the lyrics that do and I love this song and it’s underrated. That’s all, I hope you like it. And let me know if you want to be tagged if happens to have a next chap.

Warnings: maybe just boring

Words: 1085

            “Come on, (Y/N), it’s gonna be fun” Jen said. You and she had just watched this amazing Queen concert, a band that you two loved a lot, Jen liked more of the guys and you liked more of the music. She was a groupie and probably already knew at least one of the band members, at the same time for me, it was the first time you went to their concert, since they were still beginning and you had just recently learnt about them.

           Jen was dragging you to the backstage, she and other groupies were already invited to it after the concerts, or if not invited, they had their ways to get in. You weren’t comfortable on the idea of invading those guys privacy, but you still followed Jen anyhow, maybe you could get an autograph from Freddie, who knows? It was the only member you knew the name for sure, the only that was calling out your attention thanks to his performance, he seemed like such an amazing person to have around.

           After walking a while in the backstage, with a few securities or staff people giving you two weird looks like they were saying “more groupies”, you found another group of girls, all of them near a door, it was closed, right at the time you two were coming closer to the group of the girls, the door was open. This incredible tall man, with long curly hair showed up, you remembered of him being the guitar player.

           “Sorry girls, we gotta wake up early tomorrow, the next concert is going to be in another city” he said. An annoyed voice on the background yelled “speak for yourself, Brian” and then a blonde man showed up behind him. You didn’t notice him during the concert, probably because he was hidden behind the drums, he was good looking. Brian gave him a look and said again “Sorry once again” and between many sad “awws” from the girls, he closed the door. You decided that you wanted to leave there as soon as possible, if the guys didn’t want to be disturbed, you shouldn’t be around, especially because you weren’t there as a groupie. You were going to ask Jen to come back with you, but she got lost in the middle of the other girls and you figured that she wouldn’t want to leave with you at that moment, and anyhow you two would meet up on the next day.

           You walked away from the other girls trying to find the way out and when you realized you were already by yourself and probably lost, there was not even someone from the staff to give you information or to at least kick you out, you kept walking, distracted until you bumped into someone, who was quite in a hurry.

           “I am so sorry!” the guy said to you after holding your arm like in an action to not let you fall.

           “No, no, it’s ok” you said back laughing “I was distracted”. He looked at you, you noticed that he had this kind face and he gave you this sweet smile. He looked a bit familiar.

           “Are you lost?” he asked.

           “Can’t you tell?” you again answered in a laugh. “I am trying to find my way out”.

           “Really? I thought you were trying to find the band room”.

           “Uh, no. Some tall guy opened the door and said they couldn’t see anyone. I didn’t want to keep disturbing and I got out of there, but my friend stayed so here I am trying to leave”

           “That was probably Brian.” he laughed. Then he looked back at me “you don’t look familiar, are you a new groupie or something? Well, not that I know all the groupies, that’s Roger’s department, but still, I guess I never even saw you once”.

           “It’s because I am not a groupie, I was just with a friend, and maybe I could get an autograph or something like that”

           “Would you like my autograph?” he said with a shy voice. You couldn’t avoid smiling. And then you recognized him and why he was so familiar, he was the bass player. You were trying to remember his name when he noticed you couldn’t recognize him well enough. “I’m John Richard Deacon. My friends call me Deaky, I play the bass”.

           “Nice to meet you John” you smiled at him standing your hand so he could shake it. “I am (Y/N). My friends call me (Y/N). I watch the concert.” He laughed at your silly joke.

           “You can call me Deaky.”

           “Ok, Deaky.” And after saying that a silence moment happened. You tried to fill the void before it would get uncomfortable “Can I be honest to you? You don’t look like you are in a rock band”

           “Well, I used to study electronics”

           “That’s seems more like your thing”.

           “Yeah? What about you?” he shouted back at me trying to mock me like I did to him.

           “What about me?” I asked trying to look confused.

           “You don’t either look like a girl who goes to rock concerts”.

           “Ok, you better stop right there, mate. What do I look like then?”

           “Like you spend the whole day drawing while listening to classical music”

           “And what’s wrong with classical music?”

           “Nothing” we both smiled at each other.

           “I actually study Literature. So you were half right.”

           “Do you live here in this city?” you noticed that every time he was making you a question he did look shy.

           “Yes, I do.” you answered hoping that he would come up with something more fun to talk about; he was a really nice person to chat with.

           “We are going to…” and before he could finish the sentence we both heard someone approaching.

           “Deaky, there you are!” and you could recognize Freddie. “oh hello, darling” he said looking at you, his eyes went from your face to Deaky’s and he almost looked shock to see Deaky with you. “Roger had his shag already and we were looking for you to go back to the hotel. Remember we are leaving tomorrow morning”. Deaky looked at you and with a small smile he said bye to you.

           “I hope we can meet up again, (Y/N)”.

           “Me too, Deaky”.

           “See you around, darling.” Freddie said to you with a smile and then they both turned around and walked away. You guys didn’t know yet but you would definitely see each other around.

taglist: some of you asked to tag you on chapter one and also said that were interested on reading, so there you go

@ma-ntequilla @rogerinascigarette @hermajestyborhap @theinvisible-men

@i-got-no-rhythm @brianmay-be

chapter 2

[wannawritefast]

So Very Much

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I decided to try my hand at a Roger fic so let me know what y’all think! I know that this is well past the holidays but I do what I want so... Once again, a HUUUUGE thank you to my editor :) @andtheswordwentsnickersnack. And since I know @hollandroos is a huge slut for Ben Hardy as Roger (like I am)... you’re welcome.

Request by anon: hey! can you do a roger taylor fluff fic where it’s new year’s day, and they want to do nothing but cuddle and make out? thank you!

Pairing: BoRhap!Roger x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, mild language, implied smut (kinda...?), kissing?, just a whole bunch of domestic fluff idk man

“What do you mean you’re ‘not going to make it’?” Mary asked seriously. The cat in your lap jumped away as you sat up abruptly. “‘Not going to make it’? But it’s Christmas!”

You and Mary were huddled by the phone in her apartment for your routine post-show phone call. The boys had been touring for the past two months. And they had said, no, promised, that they would be back in time for Christmas.

Mary let out a heavy sigh and you got up to pour yourself more tea. You couldn’t trust yourself to do much else when you were this frustrated. One of the other cats trotted after you.

“Yeah, I understand,” She muttered. Mary’s fingers scratched at her forehead and she ran a hand down her face. “You’ll at least make it for New Year’s, right?”

You put some of the cookies the two of you had baked earlier on a plate and carried your mug of hot tea back to your spot on the couch. You held out the plate of cookies to her and she plucked up a chocolate chip cookie with a nod of ‘thanks.’ The two of you simultaneously bit into the pastries and slumped against the couch cushions. Another cat sat attentively watching you eat the cookie.

“Freddie,” Mary groaned. “It’s the holidays. You deserve a break as much as they do.”

You broke off a crumb of the cookie without chocolate and gave it to the cat sitting next to you. The two others immediately hopped up after it, now begging you for some as well when they had previously been indifferent to your existence.

“I know it’s important to you, love,” Mary switched the phone from one ear to the other. “I could care less about the money. But you know what I do care about?... Yes, you!”

Mary listened in silence for about a minute, mumbled out a ‘love you, too,’ and handed over the phone to you. You scooted yourself over, cats moving in tow as Mary moved on the other end. She gnawed at her thumb nail.

You weren’t entirely sure what Roger was going to tell you that you didn’t already know. He had missed your last birthday. He was going to miss Christmas. And he was going to miss New Year's too.

“Hello,” you began. You picked at the polish on your finger, just wanting to hear his voice.

“Hello, beautiful,” Roger’s voice answered. “I miss you.”

Normally you would have smiled or joked around in response. That was how your relationship worked. But you were too upset to do that right now.

“I miss you too.” You answered. “How was your show?”

“Good.” He chirped. “Wanna know the bra count?”

“Sure,” you laughed but it felt empty. Roger and you made a habit of keeping track of how many bras get thrown onstage during the show.

“6! It's a new record!” Roger joked cheerfully.

You hummed in response trying to sound equally as excited. But Roger knew better. He always did.

“I can hear the frown on your face. What’s the matter?”

“Just that we’re not going to spend the holidays together like you said we would.” You curled your arms and legs into your torso. The 1 of the 3 cats had since given up on the cookie. One of the remaining stood on its hind legs and pressed its front paws on your bicep.

Your boyfriend let out a sigh over the other side of the line. “You heard?”

“Well, I’m with Mary. Yeah, I heard.” You explained.

You heard rustling. “I would have liked to tell you myself.”

“A little late for that, huh?” You chuckled humorlessly. You felt the tears welling up in your eyes.

You were proud of Roger, honestly. You really were. This was his dream and he was succeeding and you were so happy for him. You hated when he was gone this long though. And it’s not that you didn’t trust him because, by God, you did. You just missed him so much.

“I really don’t know what to say or what to tell you, Y/n,” Roger confessed. You looked over to Mary who had let a few silent tears fall as she stared at the currently off telly. You made eye contact with her as one of your own tears rolled down your cheek.

“That you’ll come home somehow.” Your voice broke and you coughed to cover it. “Please.”

“Y/n...”

“Yeah,” you said, and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. “I know, Roger.”

“I’m really sorry.”

No, you aren’t, you thought. But you held your tongue and swallowed back the words, not wanting to cause a fight. You knew he was sorry but you were bitter.

“Yeah, I know.” You answered dejectedly.

“I’ll-”

“Make it up to me, yeah,” you looked over to Mary again as you rubbed at your eye with you jumper sleeve. She crawled over to you and you let her lean against you. You were grateful for the contact.

“Well, I’ve got to go,” he breathed. He always had to go. You nodded in response well aware that he couldn’t see it.

You sniffled. “I love you, Rog. So very much.”

“I love you too, Y/n. So very much.” He matched the cadence of your voice. A chuckle bubbled it’s way through your lungs. “Bye, beautiful.”

“Bye,” you whispered. The line went dead and you set the phone back on the stand.

You and Mary sat together, emotionally drained, slouched on the couch. The both of you suddenly were without the loves of your lives for the holidays.

“So,” you breathed shakily. You let a few more tears fall. “You got any plans for Christmas?” Mary laughed dryly. “Or New Year’s?” She shot back. “Seriously I’ve got no plans! Not anymore anyways…” You trailed off.

“We can do Christmas at yours and New Year’s here,” she suggested with a shrug.

You nodded absentmindedly. That would be fun, you supposed. “Sounds good by me.”

“Want to sleep over tonight?” Mary asked as she sat up and faced you.

“Sure,” you replied. “As long as I buy breakfast tomorrow morning, my treat.”

“You have yourself a deal.”

The holidays went as planned with Mary. You spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her at your flat, watching Christmas movies and exchanging presents. Mary even brought over her presents from Freddie and her family and opened them at your flat. Having someone else there was so much better than the solitude you had become used to.

It was all well and good until you realized that Roger’s presents were going to remain under the tree for quite a bit. He called you in the afternoon to wish you a Happy Christmas and to apologize again. After Mary left, you spent the rest of the day drinking wine and crying. You couldn’t even bring yourself to take down any of the decorations.

Nearly a week passed and Mary got sick with the flu, leaving you to celebrate New Year’s eve alone. You had tried to help her, but she insisted that she could manage and didn’t want to risk getting you sick. (She deadbolted her front door and wouldn’t let you in when you dropped by with soup.)

Because you had nothing else to do, nowhere to go, and zero desire to be out on a night like this, you did chores and cooked for a good majority of the day. After cleaning the bedroom, guest bedroom, and bathroom, you moved onto slow-roasting vegetables for your dinner. You were not looking forward to ringing in the New Year on your own.

You laid on your bed, bored out of your mind. What did people do when they had this much time to kill? Staring at the ceiling you let your legs hang off of the edge and your thoughts wander.

You hated sleeping in this damn bed. It was too big and too soft and too cold except when Roger was there in it too. But now you were starting to get used to sleeping in it alone, and that was the problem. You didn’t want to get used to it.

When Roger was here, the bed was small and you could touch him. When Roger was here, the bed didn’t need to be soft because you slept right up against him, almost on top of him. When Roger was here, the bed was too hot and you would kick the covers onto the floor and still be wrapped in his arms because him making you overheat while you tried to sleep was better than having no one there at all.

You cried yourself into a dreamless nap and stirred awake to the sound of your front door opening. You rubbed your puffy eyes.

Someone else was in your flat.

Sitting bolt upright, you came to your senses and instinctively reached to grab the flashlight, kept on your nightstand at Roger’s insistence.

“Y/n?” A voice called.

You knew that voice. But that couldn’t be right. You let the flashlight fall back to the nightstand with a clatter.

“Y/n! I’m home.” You clambered and scrambled off of the bed in your half-awake daze. Roger.

You sprinted down the hallway, not caring about how many walls you stumbled into. You had to be imagining this.

You rounded the corner and beheld your boyfriend shutting the front door behind him and setting down his bags next to the coat rack. You were so overwhelmed with the situation that you couldn’t help the expression of love that left your mouth.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Roger blinked at you in confusion. “‘Welcome home’ would suffice,” he teased warmly.

The reality of him being home finally hit you and you ran full force at your boyfriend. You wrapped him your arms and legs around him and he held you tightly, like he didn’t intend on letting go for a while. For real.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whispered. You loosened your arms but didn’t let go of him nor did he let go of you. You remained suspended in his embrace. Roger’s pretty blue eyes looked back into yours and you weren’t dreaming. “But really… what are you doing here?”

Instead of answering you, Roger attacked your lips with his and walked the two of you to the couch where you sat straddling his lap. For a blissful minute, that was all you did. You kissed him, attempting to make up for all the time you had lost when he was away. And you had a LOT of catching up to do.

Eventually you pulled away much to the dismay of Roger. Your fingertips brushed his fluffy blonde hair out of his face, still seated in his lap. You pecked a kiss to Roger’s nose.

“So…” you prompted for the third time. Roger leaned forward to kiss you again but you put your pointer finger up to halt his lips. “I’m not complaining. And we can bloody well finish this later but no more until I get an explanation.”

“I can’t surprise my loving girlfriend?” He asked with that cheeky grin that he wore oh-so well. You raised your eyebrows at him and he ran his fingers idly up and down the outsides of your legs. “Freddie worked his magic and got us free time. Except for a few weekend gigs, I’m all yours until the end of January.”

You gasped in excitement. “Are you serious?!”

Roger laughed in response. “Of course, darling.”

You squealed and kissed him again, over the moon that Roger was going to be home for a while. Especially since he wouldn’t be missing New Year’s Eve like he said he would. You looked at the gifts under the tree and then back at Roger.

“You’re opening your Christmas presents next year,” you teased through his affections.

He rolled his eyes and continued kissing you. “You can just say tomorrow. That’s when you’re opening yours.”

“‘Next year’ is so much more fun though!” You exclaimed. Roger pulled back to take a breather.

“You are so beautiful.” He mused quietly. You smiled at him. “I love you so much.”

“As much as you love that car?” You couldn't help yourself. You were in too good of a mood.

Roger tickled your sides in retaliation. “Even more. Want me to prove it?” Roger challenged leaning you forward over the edge of the couch. You tightened your grip around his shoulders.

“You don’t have it in you,” you squinted your eyes back at him in faux-competition.

“We’ll see about that.”

In one swift movement, he maneuvered you off his lap and over his shoulder. Roger laughed at your noise of surprise and carried you to your bedroom.

Oh, you couldn't wait to catch up.

After quite a bit of… um, quality time together, the two of you finished prepping the dinner you had started before Roger came home. Thank goodness you had planned to make enough to have leftovers so there was a serving for him too.

You spent your evening with a certain blonde drummer never more than 4 feet away from you. When you began to plate the dinner, Roger wrapped his arms around your waist, rested his head on your shoulder, and swayed gently to an idle tune. And when you waited for the countdown, your boyfriend and you sat leaning forward on the couch excitedly waiting for midnight.

His arm was wrapped around your waist and his hand rested on your hip. 5, 4, 3, 2…

“Happy New Year!” You and Roger cheered at the same time. You turned to face him with your arms thrown up to the ceiling as you danced in place.

Roger grabbed you by the waist and pulled you toward him gently. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips and smiled through it.

“Happy New Year, Roger,” you muttered through the kiss. Roger was not relenting. Even as you leaned back to pull away, he dipped you low to the ground. You fell to the ground with a thud and laughed when Roger cursed and fell on top of you.

“Got a little overzealous there, huh?” You asked.

“Yeah,” Roger breathed and twirled a piece of your hair around his finger. “And I’m going to do it again.”

Your giggles echoed through the living room.

You woke up when the sunlight tickled your lashes, peeking through the thin blinds you had haphazardly closed the night before. Your hand instinctively reached to rub your face and your nails scraped at the dry inner corners of your eyes.

It took you a moment to register that Roger had laid his head on the middle of your chest. His light hair was spread around his head and onto your arm chaotically like a wreath. You watched his side slowly rise and fall as he continued to slumber peacefully. His long lashes almost brushed his cheeks and Roger’s lips were slightly pursed and parted from sleeping on his side.

He looked beautiful. If you moved, you would wake him. One of his arms was tucked against his chest under his chin and the other was reached across your torso with his hand snugly settled in the underside of your waist, securely locking you in place. Ever so slowly you craned your neck forward, brushed a featherlight kiss onto the top of his head and leaned back to where you had been laying. Your fingertips rubbed the soft ends of his blonde hair between your fingers as if you weren’t quite sure he was really here.

Within a few seconds, Roger took in a deep breath and stirred awake. He stretched out the arm that was wrapped around your waist.

“Good morning,” you greeted groggily. Roger’s mouth immediately turned to a smile and he turned his head to look at you.

“Good morning to you too,” he responded, his voice raspy and thick with sleep. He unrolled himself from his position and laid on his side to face you. You mirrored him.

“Are you ready to open your presents?” You asked gently.

“There’s only one I want to open right now,” he smoothly hummed. Roger moved to kiss you and you turned your head away to dodge it. He dropped his jaw, offended at your movement.

“We both have morning breath, Rog,” you explained, resting your hand on his cheek. “Let’s get a little cleaned up and then we can continue this, yeah?”

Eventually the two of you made it to the living room and you divvied up the Christmas presents between you and him between long swigs of freshly brewed coffee. Roger’s pile was fairly heft  due to the fact that he hadn’t been able to open them on the day he was supposed to. Having Roger home was gift enough for you though. When the space underneath the tree was empty, save for the tree skirt, he began to open them.

Roger tore open his presents. Among a jumper from his mother, a handful of socks from his sister, and a new set of drumsticks from his dad, Roger proceeded then to open the gifts from you.

The first one he opened was a box of matchbox cars with heart eyes individually hand-drawn on the windshields courtesy of you. The second one he opened was a nice pair of boots that he had been eyeing the last time the two of you went out before he left for his latest round of performances. The third and final gift you got him was a picture book with heartfelt captions that you made of the last few years you had been together. That one may have made him tear up a little bit.

Roger stood from his spot on the floor and encased you in a tight hug from your spot on the couch. “Y/n,” he whispered, “I love you so very much. Thank you for everything.” He landed a sweet kiss on your forehead then your nose, your cheek and finally your lips.

“You’re so very welcome.” You answered. Roger had been more than affectionate lately not that you were complaining.

“I have something for you too. Don’t think I forgot,” he explained. You knew he wouldn’t ever forget you; he made sure that you knew that. Roger picked the red envelope that he had placed the previous evening up off of the coffee table and handed you it. Your name was scrawled messily on the front in his handwriting. “I’m sorry I could only get you one thing.”

You worked on gently ripping open the flap of the envelope. “Roger, it doesn’t matter what you get me. I just need you.” You put your hand on his cheek and your boyfriend kissed the inside of your wrist.

“That was ridiculously corny,” he muttered, “but you’re cute so I’ll let it pass.”

You rolled your eyes as you finally unstuck the envelope flap and opened the card. It read:

‘Y/n Dearest,

I’m trying to get better at this sappy stuff. The band is convinced that the most romantic thing I’ve ever written up to this point is, well… it rhymes with “I’m in Love with my Star.” But I’m going to try anyways to top it.’

You chuckled and bumped his shoulder with yours. “I’m seriously concerned with your infatuation with automobiles.”

“Oh, just keep reading,” Roger pushed.

‘I love you. So very much. And I hate being away from you for so long when I was made to be at your side. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for missing your birthday and Christmas. For all the times you’ve been there for me, I should have been and should still be there for you. And for that I am sorry.’

“Aw, you don’t need to be sorry,” you corrected softly. “I’m proud of you. And I’m happy that you’re seeing the benefits of your hard work.”

“You’re lovely,” he whispered. “But keep on reading.”

‘As for your gift, consider this a voucher for a puppy or kitten of your choosing. If you’re going to need something to keep you company, it might as well be a friend with fluffy hair other than yours truly.

Yours truly ; )

Roger xx’

You looked up from the card in shock. You were getting a pet. Oh my God… You were getting a pet!

“I’m getting a puppy?!” You yelled excitedly. Roger laughed amusedly at your mirth.

“Or a kitten… your choice,” he answered. His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you.

“Roger, this is the best gift ever,” you pulled him close to you and began to kiss him. That’s all the two of you seemed to do since he had gotten back. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Roger responded.

You cocked your head. “For what?”

“For being the one that I love so very much.”

[dancing-deacon]

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