just blurbs, fics, and everything Bohemian Rhapsody!Roger Taylor beCAUSE WOW HE STOLE MY HEART
five series (so far) in this book
•Love of My Life Series: Roger Taylor x Reader
•You're My Best Friend Series: John Deacon x Reader x Roger Taylor
•Fathe...
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Summary: john and the boys help reader move into her apartment. Some shots are fired between rog and deaky (and freddie).
Note: grammar errors. Sorry if this chap sucks... im just leading up to the bigger stuff.
Words: 3.7k+
You felt trapped with Deaky's hands around your waist. As if you were his. And you weren't. And you knew it was sending all the wrong signals to Roger. It was a miscommunication that you didn't want.
Your cheeks heated up the moment Roger's eyes made contact with yours, gazing down to your waist. The evidence all there. And you didn't want him to think that.
Deaky could see it too. The way Roger was looking down at Deaky's hands placed upon your body.
It was a first. Roger being jealous of Deaky. Deaky liked it. But it was over just as it started, because your hands harshly pushed his off of you, standing over to the side as you still watched Roger.
"Will I see you later?" the girl piped, coming up from behind Roger, his attention still focused on you. The girl cleared her throat, oblivious as to what Roger was lost in.
Roger just grabbed her hand, leading her to the door. At that point, you couldn't see or hear what either of them was saying. She was out in the hallway as Roger's arm leaned against the open door, his back faced to you as a form of privacy.
"Do you want to dance?" Deaky loudly said, his hand roaming over to yours, but you pulled away, your gaze moving from Roger to Deaky. And Deaky knew you didn't want to dance, but he wanted to distract you - to turn your focus back onto him just as it was seconds before. He didn't want to believe you'd stop dancing with him for Roger. But you did.
"I- not right now," you said with aggravation, as if he were stupid for even asking. You stomped away from him, making your way over to the small bar of drinks.
You didn't know which drink to grab. There were so many options, even though the bar was small.
Your fingers fumbled around the bottles, some half full and others completely full. You chose a half full one: whisky. The tip of the bottle clinked against the rim of the small glass, the liquid spilling into the cup.
