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Pairing: BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.4k
The reader finds out she’s pregnant with Roger’s baby after they’ve broken up
Warnings: Language.
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You sat on the toilet, staring at your spotless knickers. Your period was late…your period was never late. Your body was like a clock, never late nor early. It was somewhat comforting, except when it wasn’t.
You were pregnant.
You know who the father was, you hadn’t spoken to him in three weeks, since the two of you broke up and you moved in with your brother.
Roger Taylor, certified womanizer, with a liver of steel and international fame, was the father of your unborn child.
Tears came to your eyes as you remembered the last night you saw him.
It was late, and he was still out. You weren’t surprised by this, Roger had a nasty habit of staying out all night and falling into bed in the early hours of the morning.
Tonight was no different than most.
You were asleep when he stumbled through the door. The sound of the door slamming shut roused you from your slumber.
“Roger?” You called, pulling the blanket up to cover yourself. “Is that you?”
There was a crash and a giggled “Fuck.”
You sighed, lying down on your side and pulling the blanket over your head.
Roger stumbled into the room a few minutes later, and sat on the bed next to you. “(Y/N), are you awake?” His words were slurred.
“I am now,” you said, voice muffled by the blanket over your head.
“Wanna see you,” he whispered, pulling the blanket down. “There she is.” He smiled. “There’s my pretty girl.”
You turned on the bedside lamp. Roger was visibly disheveled, his shirt was rumpled, his hair a mess and eyes red. There was a red lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt that wasn’t there when he left for his gig earlier.
“Have you been smoking pot again?” You asked, a scowl on your face.
Roger’s thumb brushed over your lips. “Little bit.”
“You said you were done smoking.” You shied away from his touch.
He shrugged. “I say a lot of things.”
You scoffed and rolled onto your side, body facing away from him.
“Baby, don’t be mad at me.” Roger groaned, shifting to lie in bed beside you. An unfamiliar smell invaded your senses, it smelled like cheap rose perfume; it made you sick.
“I’m not mad at you,” you snapped a little too harshly.
He wrapped his arms around your body. “Could have fooled me.” He mumbled as one of his hands played with the hem of the shirt you were wearing.
“Why would I be mad that my boyfriend stays out all night partying after shows, and comes home smelling like another woman” You pushed his hands away from you.
But he persisted, pulling you back against him. “She was just some groupie, all she did was flirt with me.” His lips brushed against your shoulder.
“Is that why her lipstick is on the collar of your shirt?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, pushing away his wandering hands once more. “Stop touching me Roger, I’m not in the mood.”
Roger huffed, and pulled away from you. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“What’s my problem?” You shouted, getting out of bed. “I’m the bad guy because I don’t want to have sex with you after you’ve been out all night doing drugs and flirting with other girls? Why don’t you go fuck your groupie instead?”
He stood, stumbling uneasily. “At least she’d put out for me, instead of acting all bitchy.”
You stared at him, blinking in surprise at his words. “What did you just say to me?”
“You’re acting like a real bitch right now.” Roger slurred, swaying on his feet. “You’re always yelling at me for living my life. Maybe if you weren’t so uptight all the time, I would have to have sex with some random girl and get drunk all the time.” He spat.
His words sent a sharp pain through your heart. Your hands shook, and your throat burned with bile. He was blaming you for his bad habits. He was blaming you for cheating. Somehow it was your fault that he drunk and smoke the night away.
“Get out,” you said quietly, voice shaking as your eyes welled up with tears.
Roger seemed to realize his mistake. “(Y/N).”
“GET OUT!” You shouted, grabbing the nearest object, which happened to be an empty ashtray, and throwing it at him. “Get out, Roger, now! I don’t want to look at you! I don’t want to see your face again.”
He ducked, and the ashtray barely missed his shoulder. It dented the wall and shattered on the floor in front of him. “Wait, baby-”
You screamed at him, grabbing the lamp off of the bedside table. “Go spend the night in another woman’s bed. You can blame me for it later.”
“I’m sorry-”
“Leave.” You hissed, holding the lamp up threateningly.
Roger looked at you with sad eyes. His shoulders drooped as he cast you one last apologetic glance, and left the room, still wobbling unsure of himself. You stayed frozen in place, staring at the wall until you heard the front door slam. You set the lamp down, and slid down the wall with shaky legs. You spent the whole night crying, and in the morning, when Roger returned, finally sober, you were gone.
You didn’t really have any other places to go. Luckily for you, your brother lived on the other side of town. He was more than happy to take you in when you showed up on his doorstep the morning after your fight with Roger. You hadn’t really given him many details of that night, not wanting to come between the band, but he got the main gist- Roger had fucked up irreversibly and you left him because of it. Brian had gone to great lengths to make sure you and Roger’s paths had stayed separate, even telling Roger that you had gone to stay with your mother for a while.
Skip to three weeks later, and you were positive it would be impossible to avoid him any longer. You were pregnant with his child after all, he had a right to know about it at least. Or did he? You had a slight inkling in the back of your head that he wasn’t ready to be a father- hell he could barely stay faithful to you during your relationship. You didn’t want to raise a baby on your own, you had a life to live.
You dropped your head into your hands, tears spilling down your cheeks. You didn’t know what you were going to do.
“(Y/N)!” Brian called, knocking on the door.
You jumped, rubbing the back of your hand over your face. “Y-yeah!”
Shit, you definitely sounded like you had been crying.
“Everything alright in there?” He asked. “You’ve been in there for ages, I need to take a piss.”
You stood, fixing your clothes to make yourself presentable. “I’ll be out in a moment.” You flushed the toilet, and washed the visible tear tracks from your face.
Brian was leaning against the door frame when you stepped into the hall. His eyes narrowed at your frazzled appearance. “Hey,” he said softly, grabbing your arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with Roger, does it?” He asked, suddenly defensive. “He hasn’t tried to contact you, has he? Because I told him you needed your space right now and if-”
You shook your head. “I’m fine, Bri, honestly.” You seemed to be trying to convince both him and yourself.
Luckily, one of you believed the lie.
“Okay.” Brian brushed his lips against your forehead. “I’m gonna take a shower, and then we can go get lunch, eh?”
“That sounds great.” You put on your best fake smile.
He squeezed your hand. “I’ll be ready in thirty.”
You nodded, as he shot you a reassuring smile, before closing the bathroom door.
You waited in the hall until you could hear the shower running. Once Brian started singing, you headed into the kitchen. You leafed through the phone book Brian kept on the counter near the landline, searching for the nearest clinic. You picked up the landline, and dialed the number you found.
“Thank you for calling, if this is an emergency, please hang up the phone and dial 999, if not please wait and someone will be with you shortly.”
You leaned against the counter, chewing on the pad of your thumb while the busy tone rang. Finally a few minutes later, somebody answered the phone.
“How can we help you today?” A worker asked.
You took a deep breath. “I’d like to schedule an appointment for a pregnancy test.” You said quietly.
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