#1YearFics

[rushingheadlong]

Together With You - A Brian May x f!Reader smut fic

Summary: You spend an intimate morning keeping Brian company as he works.

Wordcount: ~1,900

Tags/Warnings: 18+/NSFW, smut, cockwarming, creampie

Notes: Written for an anon prompt for late 70s Brian x f!Reader with cockwarming. This ended up a bit on the softer side, rather than the D/s route, but I hope it’s alright!

You find Brian right where you were expecting him to be - already hard at work at the small desk tucked into the corner of the living room. Queen has a few weeks of downtime before they have to go back into the studio, but you wouldn’t know that from looking at Brian. After the success of News of the World, and particularly the popularity of We Will Rock You, you know that Brian is already feeling the pressure to deliver something even greater for the next album.

Maybe you should be annoyed at how much time Brian is spending hard at work, but you can’t really bring yourself to be upset when he just seems so stressed and tired. Even from the doorway of the living room you can see the tightness in his shoulders and so, even though you came here looking for him in the hopes of coaxing him back into bed with you, a new plan starts to come together instead as you quietly pad over to Brian.

It’s a testament to how consumed he is by his work that Brian doesn’t notice you until you’re literally right next to him - but the smile he gives you is as warm and genuine as ever as he sets down his pen and leans up to give you a kiss. “Good morning, Y/N. What time is it?”

“Still early enough,” you tell him. “Have you been working long?”

Brian shrugs. “For a bit. I couldn’t sleep,” he says, and you know that means he was probably down here for half the night. He gives you a quick once-over, and a knowing smirk, and adds, “Let me guess. You were coming to distract me?”

“Mm, I was,” you admit, because it’s hard to deny that when you’re wearing a pair of panties and one of Brian’s oversized button-down shirts, and nothing else. “But I think there’s been a change of plans.”

“Oh?” Brian says, clearly curious, but rather than answering you climb into his lap, straddling his hips and wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders. Brian laughs as his hands settle on your waist and he teases, “You call this a chance of plans?”

“Well. Of a sort.” You roll your hips down against Brian’s and he groans, and can’t stop himself from rocking back against you.

“This still seems like a distraction, Y/N,” Brian says, as he starts to trail kisses along your neck.

“Not if you don’t want it to be. I don’t need you to fuck me right now, I just need you hard enough to get inside me,” you tell him.

Brian immediately knows what you’re talking about and he pulls back so he can look at you properly. His mouth has dropped open in surprise but there’s excitement and hunger in his eyes and his voice trembles slightly with desire as he asks, “Fuck, Y/N, are you sure?”

“Absolutely positive,” you tell him. “You’re not the only one who loves this, remember?”

Because Brian does love this. He loves having you around his cock, sitting on it or holding it in your mouth, not desperately racing towards an orgasm but just being there, close to him in the most intimate way possible. It had taken him years to muster up the courage to ask you for this, and he still doesn’t request it often, but you’ve come to adore that closeness as much as he does.

And more importantly, at least on this occasion, it gives you a way to quite literally stay connected to Brian while he finishes up whatever he’s been working on. If you really wanted Brian’s full attention he would give it to you gladly, but you know that it would come with a price. When Brian returned to his work later he would be out of sorts and off his rhythm, you don’t want to put him through that stress - not when you can relieve some of his tension instead.

“What do you say, babe?” you purr, pressing a kiss to the edge of his jaw. “Want me to sit on your cock, keep it nice and warm for you while you work?”

“Fuck- Yes, god, yes.” He catches your mouth in a searing kiss, as his hands push under the hem of the shirt that you’re wearing and you reach down to free his cock from his trousers.

He’s not quite fully hard yet, but you weren’t lying when you said that you didn’t need him to be for this. Brian pulls your panties to one side as you raise up on your knees just enough to position his cock at your entrance and start to slowly sink down and, god, even like this he fills you perfectly, like the two of you were made for this, and you moan softly as you take him to the hilt and settle back down onto Brian’s lap.

Your instinct is to rock down on his cock, to get him fully hard and take your pleasure from him, because Brian just feels so good inside you. You bury your face against Brian’s neck, whimpering quietly, as Brian strokes gently up and down your back. “God, god, Bri…”

“Shh, that’s it, just relax, baby.” Brian kisses your temple softly. “You’re so good to me, Y/N, love you so much…”

You nuzzle against Brian and after a few moments you start to relax against him. Brian keeps stroking along your back with one hand, but you hear him reach out with his other hand for the pen he set aside earlier as he starts working again. You lean against him, held in place by his hand on your back and your arms loosely draped around his shoulders, and just enjoy the feeling of Brian surrounding you completely.

He fills your entire senses. You hear his breathing, the sound of his pen scratching at the pad of paper, his faint mumbling as he thinks through his lyrics. You smell his skin and his shampoo where your face is buried in the crook of his neck. And you feel him, his hand on your back and his thighs underneath you and his cock inside you.

You feel it every time one of you shifts, no matter how slightly, and you sigh and whimper as it drags against your inner walls. Even like this his cock is still just thick enough that you can’t ignore it but it’s a comfortable fullness, warm and intimate in a way that always makes your chest tight with love for Brian. You’re aroused, of course you are, but it’s low and easy to set aside.

You had gone looking for Brian not long after you woke up, and once you get used to the feeling of him inside you it’s easy for you to drift into a lazy half-sleep as Brian works. His focus is almost entirely on his work, to the point where he never gets more than half-hard inside you as you warm his cock, but you don’t feel ignored. How can you possibly feel ignored when you’re as close to Brian as you can ever get?

You know that Brian is done working when you shifts underneath you, a bit more purposefully than before and you smile as you’re pulled back into the moment. “All set, then?” you murmur against Brian’s skin.

“All set,” Brian confirms. You hear him set down his pen and then both of his hands are on you again. He gently cups the side of your face and coaxes your head up so you’re looking at him as he smiles and says, “You were amazing. Thank you for this.”

You lean in and kiss him, and even though Brian tries to make it gentle you nip at his bottom lip when you pull away and say, “Good. Can you fuck me properly now?”

Brian laughs, and the hand on your back dips down and pushes up underneath the hem of your shirt so he’s touching your bare skin now. “Yeah, I think I can do that. How do you want to do this?”

“Just like this,” you say as you grind down against him. You can feel yourself growing wetter as you think of Brian fucking you here, with you curled up in his lap and only minutes after you were simply warming his cock while he worked. And Brian is getting harder now, rocking up into you just a little and making you gasp and cling tighter to Brian’s shoulders.

Brian does most of the work here. He doesn’t make you ride him, he just uses his grip on your hips to move you against him as his thrusts get harder and faster. After being filled for so long it feels indescribably wonderful to finally be fucked, and you gasp and moan and bite at Brian’s neck as both of you chase the orgasms that you’ve delayed for so long.

“Touch yourself, baby, touch yourself for me,” Brian pants as he squeezes your hips a little bit tighter, and thrusts up into you a little bit rougher. “I wanna see you come Y/N, want you to come on my cock…”

You bring one hand down to your clit and you cry out at the first touch on your swollen nub, so sensitive after spending so much of the morning in a low state of arousal. You can feel yourself racing towards your peak as you rub tight circles around your clit but it’s Brian who comes first, his hips stuttering up into you as he groans and bites at your shoulder and fills you with come.

And it’s only a second or two later that you follow him over the edge, your orgasm hitting you so quickly and so hard that it takes your breath away and your nails dig into Brian’s shoulder as you gasp, high-pitched and hitching, and rock between Brian’s cock and your own fingers.

The two of you stay there for several long minutes as you catch your breath and Brian presses kisses along your neck and collarbone and you try not to clench down on Brian’s cock as he slowly starts to grow soft inside you again.

“We should move somewhere more comfortable,” Brian says at last.

You should, you know that, but you don’t want to lose this closeness that you have with Brian now. You whine, a little, and press your thighs tighter against his, and say, “Wanna keep you inside me.”

You feel Brian’s spent cock twitch inside you at your words. It’s too soon for either of you to start a round two, but that’s not what you’re asking for and Brian knows it.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s see if I can manage this then.”

And he stands, slowly and carefully, as you wrap your legs around his hips and cling to him. His cock slips out, just a little, a trickle of come sliding out as well, and when you reach the bedroom Brian has to pull out completely while the two of get situated in the bed - but then he slides back inside you and you sigh as he slots into place again and the two of you wrap yourselves around each other again.

[rushingheadlong]

Almost Make Believe - A Brian x f!Reader smut fic

Summary: When you saw Brian’s performance at the Big Mama Club you thought nothing could ever top being front-and-center to him rocking out in a tight black tank top… and then you run into him a bar after the show, and your night goes from great to amazing.

Wordcount: ~2,600

Tags: 18+ / NSFW, smut, 1998 Tank Top Brian x female!fan!Reader. (Assume for the sake of this fic that Anita isn’t in the picture.) Arm kink, with a hint of sweat kink, and semi-public sex.

Notes: This technically wasn’t a request for my #1YearFics week, but the lovely @maryfree​ asked for this ages ago and inspiration finally struck (after a friendly nudge from her). Since the first fic I posted on this blog featured tank top Bri, I thought what better way to wrap up this week than with a bonus fic featuring some very on-brand tank top smut!

I hope this was worth the wait Mary and thank you for being so patient with me taking half a lifetime to write this for you ♥

You think you fell a little in love with Brian the first time you heard a Queen album. You didn’t even know his name then, but the moment you heard his guitar sing you went scrambling for the liner notes to look it up and then scanned through the photos decorating the accompanying booklet until you figured out which one he was.

Skinny with a mess of dark, curly hair and the most intense eyes you think you’ve ever seen in your life… You knew then and there that you were a goner for Brian May.

You’ve always found him almost unbearably attractive, the sort of man that you looked at and almost hated for how effortlessly sexy he was even when that clearly wasn’t his goal. He was a man who, by his own admittance, didn’t care about fashion but somehow everything he wore looked amazing on him - from gaudy jackets to simple (but always disheveled and unbuttoned) shirts.

But you have never, never seen him look as incredible as he does tonight.

Brian is in Rome for a one-off performance and brief Q&A about his new album, open only to members of the press and the fan club, and you’ve managed to snag a ticket to this exclusive event. It’s an acoustic performance, something lowkey and intimate, and maybe that’s what contributes to you being weak in the knees from the moment that Brian enters the room - wearing, of all things, a simple black tank top.

It shouldn’t be as hot as it is but Brian fills it out so nicely, and you can’t remember his arms ever being as muscled as they look in that tank top. You’re so distracted by the sight of his bare arms, the necklaces decorating the hollow of his throat, and the faintest glimpse of his collarbones above the neckline of the tank top that you almost entirely miss how indecently tight his jeans are tonight. (It takes you an embarrassingly long time to realize that he’s wearing black clogs on his feet as well, but you’re so struck by the rest of his outfit that you find that you’re not even bothered by his questionable choice in footwear.)

You manage to get a spot up front by the small stage, the perfect vantage point to stare at Brian as he strums at his guitars and croons into the mic. It’s warm in the small venue and you can see sweat beading on Brian’s brow, and when he reaches up to wipe it away you have to bite your bottom lip to hold back a whimper.

There’s no stopping your growing arousal, though, especially not when Brian’s eyes land on you, just for a second - just long enough that you can see his eyes widen slightly, and you can almost convince yourself that when he licks his lips it’s because of you and not a parched throat. It’s enough that you can feel yourself growing embarrassingly wet and it takes a real effort to stop yourself from squirming and pressing your thighs together right there in the Big Mama Café.

The show is over far, far too soon. Brian shakes hands with fans as he leaves the stage and you’re sure you’re imagining the way his hand lingers in yours, you’re sure he was just looking back at Jamie or Spike before he leaves the room, but you still let yourself imagine that it was you he was looking at instead.

There’s a bar nearby and you duck into it, needing a drink (or several) and some time to compose yourself before you can think about heading home. It’s quiet inside and you find your thoughts drifting back to Brian and the way he looked in that tank top. The memory of his muscles flexing as he played his guitar, the vast expanse of bare skin on display, the brief glimpses of usually-hidden pits, the glisten of sweat down the column of his throat....

Fuck. You’re supposed to be calming yourself down, not making yourself even more worked up about your celebrity crush!

You down your drink and order a second, when a familiar - but unexpected - voice asks, “Mind if I get that for you?”

Your heart leaps into your throat and you turn to look at Brian May as he slides onto a barstool next to you. He has a jacket on now but he’s still wearing that damned tank top underneath it, and you can see it ride up slightly as he sits down.

You tear your eyes away from that sliver of exposed skin to nod at him, and you clear your throat. “S-sure,” you stammer. “Thanks.”

Brian’s smile is warm and beautiful. “Great.” He orders a drink of his own before saying, “You were at the show, weren’t you? In the front row?”

You nod again. Your heart is racing in your chest and you can feel your face flushing but somehow you manage to say, “Yes, I was. You were absolutely fantastic.”

Brian laughs and ducks his head a little in embarrassment. “Thanks. We weren’t bad, I suppose.” Your drinks arrive and Brian hands you yours, and clinks his glass against yours. “Cheers.”

You echo the sentiment, and as both of you take a drink you wrack your brain for something, anything to say to keep the conversation going. “How long are you staying in Rome?” you ask. “I thought you said you had a plane to catch.”

“Mm, I do but we got word that our flight was delayed until later tonight. So I thought I’d grab a drink before we left,” Brian explains. “What about you? Are you a local?”

You shake your head. “Just in town for the show.”

“And in no hurry to leave, I take it,” Brian says, a little teasing.

You laugh, and trace a finger through the condensation dripping onto the bartop. “I needed a moment to decompress after that performance of yours,” you say, and it must be the alcohol that makes you bold enough to add, “It’s a bit overwhelming being that close to you when you look and sound that good, you know.”

Brian looks surprised and you’re just about to apologize for your comment - and possibly disappear into a hole to die of embarrassment - when he smirks at you and says, “Well, thank you. But you’re not the only one who got overwhelmed. It’s quite difficult for me to have to do a show when there are beautiful ladies like yourself front and center in the audience.”

“Surely a world-famous rockstar like yourself is used to seeing beautiful women at his shows,” you say. Your voice has dropped down to a sultry note, something that matches the dark arousal you can see in Brian’s eyes.

“There aren’t many women who look like you,” Brian counters in a low murmur, and you know it’s probably a line but god is it working. He takes a long gulp of his drink and turns to face you a little better and says, “If I was in Rome for longer I’d ask you to go to dinner with me and come back to my hotel room after, but unfortunately I don’t have much time before I have to leave. So I hope you can forgive me for being a bit forward but… well…”

He nods towards the back of the bar, where you know the restrooms are, and raises an eyebrow questioningly. It’s not a direct question but you don’t need it to be. You know what he’s asking and you down the rest of your drink and stand up, leaning in close to him to whisper, “Wait a few minutes, then come follow me.”

Luckily, the bar has single-occupancy restrooms and you enter the first one, leaving the door unlocked. You splash some water on your face and look at yourself in the mirror, but you barely have time to wonder what the hell you’re doing before there’s a knock at the door and Brian ducks inside, and flips the lock behind him.

There’s a beat where the two of you just look at each other, a shared moment of arousal and amusement and almost disbelief that you’re actually about to hookup with a near-stranger in the bathroom of some bar. And then you take a step forward and Brian meets you halfway, wrapping an arm around your waist and capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You gasp and Brian swallows the sound as his tongue slips into your mouth, tracing against yours, and you suck on it as your hands quickly reach up to push his jacket off his shoulders.

“We probably shouldn’t get undressed…” Brian mumbles against your mouth, barely breaking the kiss for long enough to get the words out, but he still helps shrug off his jacket and lets it fall to the floor.

You pull back, pressing lighter kisses against his mouth and moving down to kiss and nip along his jaw, though you’re careful not to leave marks on his skin - no matter how much you may want to. “Just wanted that off. You look too fucking hot in a tank top, I can’t stand it.”

You can’t keep your hands off him now that his shoulders and the top of his chest is on display again. You run your hands down his arms, feeling those muscles that had driven you crazy when he was performing, as Brian reaches down and runs one hand up your skirt, along the outside of your thigh.

“This okay?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. He leans in to lick and kiss at your neck and you tilt your head back to give him better access.

“Yes, god, please,” you gasp, and then Brian’s fingers are trailing inward, towards your core. Your knees almost buckle when he brushes along the soaked front of your panties, and Brian tightens his grip around your waist and groans against your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already…”

“Been wet since the show,” you admit, and that gets Brian surging up to kiss you again, fierce and hot, and you tangle one hand in his hair as he pulls your panties aside and slips two fingers deep inside you.

You moan and buck against his hand as he scissors his fingers and twists them inside you. “Fuck, Brian, just fuck me already, please fuck me, god-” your voice trails off in a high-pitched whine as Brian crooks his fingers and rubs against your g-spot, and Brian quickly swallows down the noise before you get too loud and draw outside attention to this illicit tryst.

Brian pulls his fingers away and fumbles for his wallet, pulling out a condom as you undo his belt and fly and push his jeans down far enough to free his cock. You moan softly at the sight of it, big and thick and heavy in your hand as you stroke his length, feeling a rush of lust as Brian groans and rocks into your hand.

Brian tears open the condom and you take it from him to roll it down his cock. Brian’s hands drop to your waist and he says, “Wrap your legs around me, okay?”

You barely have time to comprehend the instruction before Brian is lifting you up with a small grunt, balancing you on the edge of the sink but still supporting most of your weight with his arms, which flex and strain under the effort. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in close and Brian goes willingly, lining up his cock at your entrance and sinking into you slowly.

You bite your lip to stop the loud moan that wants to slip out as Brian bottoms out inside you, his cock filling you so much that it’s almost a pained sort of pleasure, lighting up every nerve ending in your body even before he starts rocking into you. The first thrust has you leaning forward, ducking your head against Brian’s neck to muffle the noises that you can’t hold back any longer.

“Fuck, you feel so good, you’re so fucking good,” Brian praises and he fucks into you fast and hard. You mouth at his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat on his skin, and your fingernails dig crescent moons into his arms as you cling tightly to him.

You know you’re not going to last long. You’ve been turned on since Brian’s concert and having him here, around you, in you, is absolutely overwhelming. The feeling of his bare arms beneath your hands, the sound of his pants and groans and mumbled praise in your ear, his hair tickling your face and the taste of his skin and sweat on your tongue…

You think you could die here, just like this, without a single regret.

Brian’s thrusts start to speed up and he brings a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit and you bite down on the strap of his tank top to stifle your loud cry of pleasure. “Want you come for me, love, c’mon, come on my cock,” Brian says, and that’s all it takes.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, white-hot pleasure setting you on fire as you clench down on Brian’s thick cock and writhe against him. Brian ducks his head to capture you lips in another kiss, your cries lost in his mouth as he works you through your orgasm, his nimble guitarist’s fingers circling and teasing at your clit without pause. You try to find your voice to tell him that it’s too much, it’s too overwhelming, when a second orgasm rips through you, stealing your breath and leaving you gasping and shaking against Brian.

And then Brian’s hips stutter into you and he’s groaning and coming as well, and his hand finally falls away from your clit as he grinds against you, chasing his own pleasure. You keep kissing him and rub your hands along his arms, until Brian’s climax ends and the two of you are left tangled together, panting and breathless and slowly coming down from your highs.

Brian pulls out gently and helps lower you back to the floor. Your legs don’t want to work properly and you lean heavily against the sink as Brian disposes of the condom and quickly wets a paper towel. He cleans your slick away from the inside of your thighs with a tenderness that makes your heart ache, but when Brian wets a second paper towel to wipe the sweat away from his face and clean himself up you feel your stomach flutter with arousal again.

Pull yourself together, you tell yourself as Brian straightens his own clothes and picks his jacket up off the floor.

“You know,” Brian says with a small laugh. “I don’t even know your name.”

Your chest is tight with a bittersweet longing, a thousand wishes that this could be the start of something long-term and beautiful… but you know it’s not meant to be.

You’ll be damned before you put the weight of your dreams on Brian’s shoulders though, so you muster up a smile and tell him, “I’m Y/N L/N.” You lean up to kiss him again, stealing into his mouth and lingering for as long as you dare, because you know you’ll probably never get this again... but just in case the stars align again you murmur in his ear as you pull away, “Come find me the next time you’re in Italy.”

And with that you step back, smooth down the front of your dress, and give Brian one last smirk and a cheeky wave before you duck out of the bathroom.

You fell a little more in love with Brian today than you already were - but that's alright. You're leaving the bar with a spring in your step and the heartache already fading, and even if you never see Brian again you at least got this one moment where your fantasies almost entirely came true.

[rushingheadlong]

Alone Time - A Brian May smut fic

Summary: Brian always tells himself that he’s going to take his time with this... but he never does.

Wordcount: ~1,100 [+ a bonus epilogue]

Tags/Warnings: 18+ / NSFW, smut, masturbation, toys

Notes: Written for an anon prompt for “Brian fucking himself with a dildo”. We didn’t get fancy with this one folks, it is in fact just straight-up smut.

Brian always intends to take his time with this. He always tells himself that he’s going to take this slow, savor every second of it and make it last… but he always ends up being far too eager, and those plans quickly get thrown out the window.

He works himself open on his fingers, and the first one always goes in so easily but he still gasps and squirms against it anyway. And he pushes the second one in quickly, because it’ll take more than one finger to get him ready for the toy, and it doesn’t hurt - he’s too familiar with this and he uses too much lube for it to really be painful - but there’s a fullness to it that just feels so good.

And he knows that three fingers feels even better, so he works another inside of himself and he whines and bucks his hips against his hand as he pistons his fingers in and out of his lube-slick hole. His fingers are certainly long enough to reach his prostate and every brush against that sensitive bundle of nerves makes his eyes roll back in his head, but he always wants more, more, more - so when his hand starts cramping, as it always inevitably does, he pulls his fingers out and reaches eager for the dildo that he set aside earlier.

The dildo he’s chosen today for today’s fun is only a hair wider than his three fingers had been but it’s certainly longer - long enough that the sight of it alone is enough to get Brian burning hot with need. His empty hole clenches in anticipation as Brian quickly slicks up the toy and his cock, which he’s hardly touched so far, is rock-hard and dripping wet with precome.

Brian always tells himself that he’s going to take his time with this, and this is the only part where that almost happens. He knows he’s open and ready, god, he can feel how open he is, but he still doesn’t want to go too rough too quickly and hurt himself.

So he slides the dildo in slowly, feeling every inch of it as it fills him up, and he moans and drags his face against his pillow as he works the toy in with short, shallow thrusts. It’s thick and hard and unyielding and it goes deeper than his fingers did, until he thinks that there’s no way that he can fit more inside himself. But somehow he always does, he always manages to work those last few inches in, and then the flared base is pressed flush against his body and Brian shakes and gasps and tries to focus on not coming immediately from the sensation of being filled alone.

Pulling it out feels just as good, the slide back against every one of his nerve endings making him moan loudly as his body clamps down and fights to keep the toy inside. And he wants to take it slowly, he wants to savor every moment of feeling so damn good, but the next push back inside is a little harder, a little faster, and whatever scrap of control Brian was holding onto immediately disappears.

He rocks his hips back to meet the toy, and every thrust goes deep and hard, brushing against his prostate and making sparks fly behind his eyes, which have slipped closed as he chases his pleasure. His mouth is hanging open and he’s moaning and panting as he keeps thrusting the toy into his hole, faster and faster until his arm tires and his fingers are slipping on the toy with the excess lube that’s dripping out of him with every movement.

That’s not the only thing that’s dripping. There’s precome smeared across his stomach from where his cock hits against his skin as he rocks against the dildo, and pooled on the sheets beneath him as well. Brian isn’t a pornstar, and he can’t come from penetration alone, but it certainly feels like he could with how hard he is and how pleasure skitters up his spine with every thrust.

The moment he gets a hand on his cock he’s going to come, he knows that, so Brian braces himself on his chest and reaches back to play with his balls first, gently massaging them and rolling them in his hand, and he moves back further and presses against his perineum while he grinds the diildo against his prostate.

“Oh- oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moans as his hips stutter and his hands slip against lube- and sweat-slick skin, and he can’t wait any longer.

He wraps a hand around his cock and he barely has to move his hand at all with how he’s still rocking his hips against the dildo, alternating between taking the toy deep inside himself and fucking forward into his fist. He’s moaning continually, half-slurred fuck’s and oh god’s slipping out without any thought on his part. He feels like he’s on fire, desire flooding every nerve ending in his body as he feels himself racing towards that edge-

And then that wave crashes over him and Brian groans and trembles, holding the dildo deep in his hole as he clenches around it and grinds it against his prostate, his other hand stripping his cock as he comes and comes and comes. He can feel come hitting his chest and spilling over his fingers, and as he comes down from his orgasm he keeps stroking his cock, eventually just teasing the head, whining and squirming at the pained-pleasure of being overstimulated until it becomes too much to bear and he collapses against the bed.

He’s panting heavily and he’s lying in a puddle of come, but when he reaches back with a shaking hand to pull the dildo out he still whines and clenches down around it, his body desperate to keep it inside even after he’s come. One of these days he’s going to cave and buy a plug, because he feels so empty once the toy is out that it’s almost unbearable. He trails his fingers around the rim of loose and still-slick hole, whimpering as even those gentle touches send sparks of overstimulation firing along his nerve endings.

Brian finally pulls his hand away and tosses the toy somewhere down towards the end of the bed to be dealt with later. He’s going to need to shower after this… and change his sheets… and probably light a candle to get the smell of sex out of the room…

And he’s definitely going to get on all of that, once he catches his breath and gets his legs working again - because he’s certainly not in a rush to keep moving any more.

---------

[This prompt was tacked onto the end of the “Queen eating muffins” prompt from a few days ago. The exact phrasing was “modern au queen eating muffins. just like hanging out being pals and eating muffins. Or alternatively, brian fucking himself with a dildo. thx!” and the contrast of these two had me crying with laughter.

So, because of that, have this absolute crack-y epilogue, with hints of poly!Queen.]

Brian gets himself cleaned up in his room. He keeps a stash of wipes on hand just for this, so he doesn’t have to trek out through the flat to wipe away lube and come. He’ll have to shower still, of course, but it gets the job done for now. The toy gets perfunctorily wiped down and set aside for a proper cleaning later, and then Brian leaves his room in search of breakfast.

He should be the only one home. He had begged off of going out to brunch with Freddie, Roger, and John in order to have some proper alone time in the flat, and he’s not expecting them to be home for some time yet.

Which is why it’s such a shock when he enters the kitchen and sees John and Freddie sitting at the small table tucked in the corner, a pot of tea and a plate of muffins in front of them, both of their faces flushed as they look up at Brian.

“Um,” Brian squeaks, and he can feel how bright red his own face is becoming. “How- how long have you been home?”

“A little while now,” Freddie says, sounding strained. “The place was booked full so we grabbed muffins to-go and thought we’d surprise you with breakfast…”

“And we were the ones who got a surprise instead,” John mumbles, and Freddie kicks him underneath the table.

Brian thinks he’s going to die from embarrassment, because he knows how thin these walls are and how much they must have heard. “Ah, well, erm…” He clears his throat and scrambles for something, anything to say to alleviate the tension in the air. “Did Roger run out then, or not come home with you?”

“No, he’s here. He’s in the shower,” John says in a tight voice.

It’s a testament to how much Brian’s spectacular orgasm fried his critical-thinking skills that he finds himself asking, “Doesn’t he usually shower at night?” without really thinking anything through.

“Yes, darling, he usually does,” Freddie says and that’s all it takes for the pieces to fall into place for Brian.

“Oh. OH. Well, uh…” He pulls out a chair and sits down across from Freddie and John, grabbing one of the muffins and taking a huge bite out of it. “Thanks for breakfast?”

Freddie and John exchange a look. “Don’t mention it,” John says with a sigh, and reaches for a muffin of his own.

It isn’t until much later, when Roger emerges from the shower looking decidedly relaxed and Freddie and John have disappeared into their own bedrooms, that it really hits Brian that his friends heard him getting off… and didn’t leave the flat. And he wonders if maybe, just maybe, there was something more to the tension in the kitchen than simple embarrassment.

[rushingheadlong]

Buttons - A Maycury Imagine

For an anon request for “Anything for Maycury”

----------

There are buttons running down the back of Brian’s new tunic. 

They’re small, dainty little things that he doesn’t remember seeing at the last fitting. If he had remembered them he would have had a plan for this moment, instead of being caught off-guard at nearly the last minute with no way to fasten his outfit himself. On any other day this would be a minor inconvenience at most, but Brian’s anxiety has been acting up again and these buttons are almost enough to send him over the edge. 

He looks desperately around the small dressing room for anyone who can help him. Roger and John have ducked out to have one last smoke before the show, for once sparing Brian and not stinking up the communal space with their habit. Luckily, though, Freddie is still here, just putting on the final touches of his stage makeup.

It takes Brian a few tries to swallow down his anxiety before he manages to call out a quiet, “Ah- Freddie?”

Freddie turns, a smile already on his face as he says, “Yes, Bri?” But he spots the issue immediately without Brian having to explain it - though it’s hard to miss with how the tunic is hanging loose off his shoulders like this. “Need help with the buttons?”

Brian nods. “Please.”

“Of course, darling.”

Brian watches Freddie stand up, mesmerize by the way the sleeves of his own tunic flow as he moves, like the wings of a bird. It isn’t until Freddie motions for him to turn around that Brian does, and then Freddie’s hands are there, pulling the tunic closed and deftly securing each tiny button. 

Brian has always been fascinated by Freddie’s fingers, the way they look as he plays the piano, the delicate flash of black polish on one hand, the way they grip and twist and play with the mic as he performs. He can feel them now grazing against his skin, lingering along his spine… and he wonders what they would feel like on his ribs, on his waist, on his legs-

“Nervous, Brimi?” Freddie asks, just in time to interrupt Brian’s traitorous thoughts. 

Brian’s mouth has gone dry and it takes him a moment to admit, “A little bit, yeah.”

“Thought so. You’re shaking, you know,” Freddie says. 

So Brian is, but he doesn’t think it’s from the nerves. There’s something new thrumming through his body, something far more dangerous than his usual anxiety - something that could be beautiful, if Brian’s heart had fallen for anyone other than his friend and band-mate. 

Freddie must be done with the buttons because his hands are at the base of Brian’s neck now - but rather than moving away, they instead slide down to Brian’s shoulders and Freddie gives a small squeeze as he says, “You don’t have to be nervous. You’re going to be fabulous out there. You always are.”

Brian’s eyes slip closed. “Thanks, Freddie,” he whispers, and he tries not to imagine what it would feel like to have Freddie kiss the back of his neck right now. 

And then the door to the dressing room flies open and Roger and John stumble in, breaking the moment with their loud, raucous laughter. Freddie and Brian spring apart as if they’ve been burned, and Brian busies himself with finishing his own stage makeup in hopes that the others won’t see the bright red flush on his face. 

It isn’t until later, when they’re about to walk on stage, that Brian catches a glimpse of the buttons running down the back of Freddie’s own tunic. He wonders who Freddie asked to help him, wonders why it wasn’t him, wonders if they stole gentle touches of their own or if their hands shook with the same repressed desire that threatens to overwhelm Brian now. 

And he wonders, as he watches Freddie strut out into the spotlight, if he can offer to help Freddie undo those buttons later without giving up his game - but he stops his thoughts there, before he can wonder about Freddie helping him out of his tunic.

He’s needed on stage now, and there’s no more time for yearning for the impossible.

[rushingheadlong]

Brian May & Tony Iommi

For an anon request. I have to admit that I don’t know much about Tony, so I hope this is alright!

---------

“So when were you planning on inviting me to join you for one of your instagram concerts?”

Brian laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to be retired? Surely you have better things you could be doing with your time!”

On the screen in front of him Tony ducks out of view for a moment as he grabs a drink. When he returns he’s slightly off-kilter and not quite framed properly in front of his phone’s camera, more of a testament to how casual this video call is rather than either of their technological abilities. Brian didn’t even bother setting his phone up on it’s usual stand, and he’s sure that his own angle is less-than-flattering as well. But things like that don’t really matter, when it’s just two old friends getting caught up on life. 

“Well, I figure that might be the closest I get to going back in the studio with you,” Tony says, with a teasing grin. “Since by the time we can actually get inside a studio, you’ll probably be halfway around the world again…”

“Who even knows what will happen with all that.” Brian tries to smile, but it comes out forced - and Tony sees through it immediately. 

“Hey. Whatever happens, you’ll finish that tour of yours,” Tony says firmly. “You know Roger and Adam are just as eager as you are to go back on the road.”

“I know, I know,” Brian sighs, but he still can’t entirely shake the feeling that they’ve let their fans down. That’s ridiculous, of course, he knows that, but his bleak moods are harder to escape with so few distractions available in isolation. 

Tony knows that, and he knows Brian well enough to not bother offering up any empty platitudes to make him feel better. Instead he grins again, lopsided and a bit rakish, and says, “All I’m saying is that since you’re now apparently releasing singles of your social media concerts, I want in. How does Matt Lucas make an appearance in your videos before I do, May? Hm?”

“Well, come up with a worthwhile fundraising idea and maybe we can talk, Iommi,” Brian retorts. 

Tony’s spluttering response is full of faux-indignation and Brian laughs as he lets himself be distracted from the worries of the future and the world outside. It’s been too long since he’s been able to meet with Tony in person, and it’ll be far too long still before they get that chance again, but at least in meantime they can still share evenings like this.

[rushingheadlong]

Baked With Love - A Gen Queen Fic

Summary: No matter how famous they get, Queen has one birthday tradition that they refuse to give up.

Wordcount: ~1,200

Tags: Vaguely modern AU, gen, fluff

Notes: Written for an anon prompt for “modern au queen eating muffins. just like hanging out being pals and eating muffins.” This is an absolutely delightful prompt, thank you for giving me something so sweet to write!

It starts when they’re still students, broke and barely scraping by, especially during the summer when Brian’s tutoring job gives him fewer hours and John’s part-time job in the electrical engineering lab doesn’t start up again until fall. Roger and Freddie are still bringing in some money selling vintage clothes on consignment, and the band manages to play a few shows that actually pay them, but times are lean and money is scarce for all of them.

And with four birthdays falling during the summer months, that means none of them can afford more than simple gifts or a few drinks out - so they have to get creative instead.

It’s John who bakes a cake for Brian and Roger to share, since their birthdays are so close together. It’s a bit too sweet and there’s not enough frosting, but after eating ramen for the last two days the four of them happily devour all of it. And when John’s birthday rolls around a month later Brian and Roger try to reciprocate… but they’re more than a little hopeless in the kitchen, and while they argue over whether or not the cake’s sins can be hidden once it’s frosted Freddie takes a few pounds and ducks out to the bakery around the corner.

It’s late enough in the day that there aren’t any cupcakes left in the display so Freddie buys four muffins, chosen with care out of the limited options left, and hurries back to their shared flat where Roger is sulking in the living room and Brian is sullenly cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. The disaster of a cake is, predictably, no where to be found.

“What have you got there, Fred?” Brian asks as Freddie sets the box of muffins on the counter and sets a kettle on to boil.

“Muffins, from the bakery down the street.” Freddie climbs up on a chair to reach into the rarely-used cupboard over the fridge, where he keeps an old tea set stored so it doesn’t get damaged. “They were out of cupcakes.”

“So… What, we’re having a tea party for John’s birthday now?” Brian asks, skeptically.

Freddie gives him a sharp look and says, “Unless you have enough ingredients to make, and probably ruin, a second cake, then yes.”

Brian, wisely, doesn’t say anything else, and when John comes home and sees the tea set laid out on their rickety kitchen table he raises an eyebrow in surprise, but his only comment is, “Lovely. Cake isn’t my favorite anyway - too much frosting.”

That sets off a bit of a ruckus, with Roger loudly demanding to know how anyone could not love cake and Freddie trying to pour cups of tea around flailing arms, and Brian steals the only blueberry muffin before anyone else can try to claim it. It’s messy and loud and everything that a nice afternoon tea probably shouldn’t be - but it’s also very Queen in it’s chaos, and when all is said and done they all agree that it was a great idea.

And so they keep doing it. Brian buys muffins for Freddie’s birthday just a few weeks later, and by the time the following summer rolls around they’re still not rich but they’re starting to gain a solid fanbase and Roger charms his way into getting free muffins for Brian’s birthday after taking a few selfies with the fan working in the bakery and uses the money to buy some better quality tea that they savor for the rest of the summer.

Queen keeps gaining more and more traction, and they finally start to get the fame - and, eventually, the money - that goes along with stardom, but somehow this little tradition sticks around. Even as their birthday parties become grander and more ridiculous, even when they’re halfway around the world on a tour, they still find time to sit down, just the four of them, and celebrate their birthdays privately like this.

“The new china’s a bit gaudy, Freddie, isn’t it?” Roger says, eyeing the tea set with some amused disdain.

“It’s dreadful,” Freddie agrees. “I thought the floral pattern would be a bit more subtle than this.” He sighs and shakes his head, “If only someone hadn’t broken the last set…”

“For the last time, that wasn’t my fault,” John says, but even though he rolls his eyes there’s no heat in his voice. This argument is several years old at this point, and even if Freddie keeps harping on it there’s no real hard feelings to be found anymore.

“Well it certainly isn’t my fault!”

Brian is ignoring the bickering around him in favor of studying the selection of muffins instead. Gone are the days where they would have barely enough money to buy one apiece. Now there are dozens of muffins in a wide array of flavors arranged neatly on plates all across the table. There’s several pots of tea as well, and a small bottle of gin which Roger snags to pour into his own cup while Brian is still considering his options.

“Just take one of everything, Bri, or else you’ll be here all day,” Roger says. He grabs the closest muffin to him, slices it neatly down the middle, and sets half of it on Brian’s plate. “There. Just do that for all of ‘em.”

“Are you going to eat the other half of all my muffins then?” Brian asks.

Roger grins at him, and takes a bite out of his own muffin half. “Sure!” he says, around a mouthful of food, and Brian wrinkles his nose in disgust.

John pulls an entire plate of whole-wheat honey muffins over towards him. They’re his favorite, and even though this is Freddie’s birthday and not his Phoebe had made them anyway. How Freddie’s assistant has the patience to bake this many muffins four times a summer he doesn’t know, but he’s grateful for it nonetheless.

Freddie grabs a cherry and almond muffin and puts half of it on Brian’s plate as well and then, just to be difficult, John cuts his muffin in half and gifts the part that he didn’t take a bite out of over to their guitarist.

Brian looks down at the small pile of muffin-halves on his plate, and then up at the other three in bewilderment, and then back down at his plate. It’s still early enough that Brian, forever a night owl, isn’t quite firing on all cylinders yet and he just mumbles, “I don’t think this is how it’s supposed to work.”

John snorts tea out over his plate and Roger chokes on his own bite of muffin as he laughs and Freddie almost spills his entire cup when he takes pity on Brian and reaches out to take back the half of his muffin.

It’s still messy and loud, because if anything they’ve only gotten a bit more chaotic over the last decade, but in comparison to the party that Freddie will have on Saturday it’s practically tame. And, more importantly, it’s just them - just the four of them, just like it was back in the beginning. Because these mornings spent eating muffins and drinking tea and laughing together, before the flurry of a show or a long day of recording, are always a private moment of peace just for them.

[rushingheadlong]

Lockdown Blues - A Queen Gen Fic

Summary: Freddie has made it his mission to keep everyone’s spirits up while they’re stuck at home. He doesn’t think the others have noticed - but they have, and they're ready to remind him that they have his back too.

Wordcount: ~2,000

Tags/Warnings: Vague modern & early Queen AU, Gen, H/C. There are references to the boys being stuck at home for an indefinite amount of time. The cause for this is never specifically discussed, but given the current world situation please read with care.

Notes: Written for a prompt from @tenderbri​ though I made a few small tweaks to it. I hope you still enjoy this!

Living with his three friends and band mates was the best idea Freddie had ever had. They all had their moods, of course, and fights were inevitable, but the anger never lasted long and the flat was always more full of laughter than of shouting.

At least, it had been that way. Lately, though, with all of them stuck at home together, things are unusually quiet as the stress and worry slowly sinks over the household.

It doesn’t take long for Brian to slip into one of his low moods. He hardly leaves his bedroom for days at a time - though Freddie suspects that he goes up to the roof in the middle of the night to try and look at the stars. He still has his thesis to work on but he’s not making much progress on it. No matter how many times they reassure Brian that he doesn’t have to be completely productive right now, Freddie knows that their soft-hearted guitarist is weighed down with guilt for not using this time to do more.

John is the opposite. John finished up a semester’s worth of coursework almost overnight, and has been pacing the apartment desperate for something to do ever since then. He mostly spends his days now going over their joint finances with a fine-toothed comb to figure out how to stretch their meager savings with none of them working at the moment. If any of them can make things work it’ll be John, but the tight set line of his mouth as he tallies up the figures isn’t an encouraging sight.

With the stall temporarily closed and their gigs cancelled for the foreseeable future, Roger has been in a bear of a mood. The only thing stopping him from chain-smoking to deal with the stress is the threat of running out of cigarettes altogether, and without a kit in the house he’s taken to drumming on any available flat surface at all hours of the day. Freddie has half a mind to break his sticks just to get some peace and quiet, unless John does it first.

As for Freddie… Well, he’s actually almost fine. He’s worried, of course he is, but the four of them are safe and as near as they can tell their families are safe as well. He doesn’t have schoolwork to stress about, he’s always been hopeless with the finances, and the forced downtime has inspired a number of new songs that they can work on when they can get back in the studio.

So Freddie is fine - but his friends are not, and Freddie takes it upon himself to cheer them up however he can.

He gives Roger his new songs so he can work out drum parts for them. He makes tea for John while he shuffles around their budget for the third time that week, and he gently coaxes Brian out of the house to go grocery shopping in hopes that the fresh air will brighten his spirits. He gathers everyone together for game nights, and subtly breaks up fights before they can really begin, and does everything in his power to keep their moods up… but it’s not enough.

Brian still stays quiet and burdened by his unnecessary guilt. John still obsessively pours over their finances. Roger still paces through the apartment like a caged tiger on a short fuse. And Freddie knows that he can’t fix this completely, that there’s only so much he can do when the world is going to pieces around them, but he still feels like there has to be something more he can do to help.

Freddie lies on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, wracking his mind for something, anything, he can try to make things a bit better for his friends. He started making a list an hour or so ago but now it lies discarded at his side, because all of his ideas are utterly useless.

He can’t cook them a nice dinner because, well, he can’t cook. Period. He’s already forced so many game nights on them that he thinks they might riot if he even thinks the word “Scrabble”. There’s no extra money to pick up a treat at the grocery store, and there’s no use in trying to surprise them with a new movie when John can pirate anything they could ever want. He’s written so many songs already and each has only been a passing distraction for Roger, and Brian’s mood has been so bleak that there’s no room for music in his world at the moment at all.

“This is pointless,” Freddie grumbles as he flings an arm dramatically across his eyes. “This is all fucking pointless.”

And maybe Freddie isn’t as fine as he thought he was, because as soon as he has that thought something inside him breaks, just a little. Because all he’s done, since this entire mess started, was try to make his friends happy. And if he can’t do that anymore… then what’s the point?

Freddie might have a small breakdown but it’s quiet and contained. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t throw his notebook across the room. He just sighs, and rolls over to face the wall, and gives up.

Freddie sleeps, for a little while. And he smokes out his window until his lungs burn, and when John knocks on the door around dinner time Freddie, in a fit of pique, pretends not to hear him. If Brian can hide in his room for days on end, then so can I, Freddie thinks bitterly, though the pettiness of the thought fills him with shame.

He doesn’t want to get up the next morning. His one distraction is gone, and without it he doesn’t think he can muster up the energy to keep pretending that he’s alright. He doesn’t think he can go out there and smile at his friends and make John tea and give Roger new songs and coax Brian into being social for a little while. And if Freddie can’t cheer up his friends he thinks that maybe he should just stay in here, so at least his foul mood doesn’t make things worse for them.

And just when Freddie thinks he’s made up his mind, and he’s not going to leave this room until he absolutely has to… he smells something burning.

Freddie is out of bed in a flash, because what if Brian can’t smell the smoke in his room and Roger is outside having a cigarette and John slipped and fell and can’t get help and-

The scene in kitchen is certainly one of chaos, but not quite of the sort that Freddie had been expecting to see.

There is something burning but it’s just in the microwave, and Freddie sees Roger fish out a charred bag of popcorn as Brian throws open the kitchen window. John is stirring something in a pot on the stove and shouting at Roger, who’s shouting back at him as he throws the bag into the sink, and Brian grabs a tea towel and starts waving it try to clear the smoke.

And they’re smiling.

Freddie can’t remember the last time he’s seen all three of them smiling like this.

Roger is the first to notice Freddie standing in the doorway to the kitchen and he says, “Oh, shit! Freddie- fuck, you weren’t supposed to see this yet, it’s not ready!”

“See what? You three nearly burning the place down?” Freddie says. It’s supposed to be a joke, but it comes out a bit too sharp. A day ago that would have gotten Brian shrinking in on himself, and Roger gearing up for a fight, and John going tense and silent - but today they all just laugh.

“That wasn’t the plan, no,” Brian says, and there’s amusement in his voice. Freddie hadn’t quite realized how much he missed hearing that, until now. “Roger found some old bags of popcorn buried in the back of the cupboard, and John looked up a few recipes for seasonings, and we thought-”

“Movie night!” Roger finishes for him. “Your pick, Fred!”

Freddie blinks at them and considers that. A movie night does sound like a good plan, and it’s nice to see the three of them in such high spirits. “Alright,” he says at last. “But you all should pick the movies-”

“No,” John interrupts. “This night is for you.”

“What?”

“We know what you’ve been doing, you know,” Roger says. “Distracting us, trying to cheer us up… and don’t get me wrong, we appreciate it, but it’s your turn now.”

“You’ve been stressed too. You may be a bit better at hiding it, but we’ve finally noticed. So you pick the movies tonight, whatever you want to watch,” Brian adds. He tosses the tea towel down on the counter and wrinkles his nose. “God, Rog, the whole flat is going to stink for the rest of the day!”

“Then light a candle or something, Brian, I don’t know what to tell you!”

“With the way things are going, if I do that then we’ll actually burn the place down!”

And Freddie laughs. Roger, Brian, and John are visibly startled and Freddie is actually a little startled too, because it’s genuine. He’s done plenty of laughing since this whole mess started but it’s almost always been forced, a show of normalcy to try to make his friends feel better - but it’s not forced anymore.

“Thank you,” he says and he means it, with every fiber of his being. “Thank you, my darlings. I needed this.”

Roger hip-checks him as he walks by to put another bag of popcorn into the microwave. “We know,” Roger says, and behind him Brian quickly - and a little frantically - adjusts the settings before Roger pushes the start button. “So, what movies are we watching?”

Freddie thinks about that for a moment. “How much alcohol do we still have?”

“Enough,” John tells him. “Why…?”

“And can I really pick any movie, or do you lot have veto power?”

The three of them exchange a bit of a worried look, but Brian admits, “We, ah- No. No, we weren’t going to give ourselves veto power.”

“But I’m regretting that decision now,” Roger mutters.

“Good.” Freddie beams at them. “We’re watching Cats.”

“No,” Roger says immediately. “God, please, no…”

“The new movie, or the stage play…?” Brian asks, though he doesn’t sound too thrilled by either possibility.

Freddie grins wickedly as he says, “Both. One, and then the other. I’ll let you choose which one we watch first.”

The three of them look pained and John is the first to sigh and say. “Well. We did say he could pick anything.”

John leaves the popcorn making up to Brian so he can go find copies of the movies to pirate. Roger also decides to leave the popcorn to Brian and instead takes control of the alcohol, while Freddie lights a few candles in the living room to help mask the faint burning smell still drifting through the flat.

By the time the food and drink are squared away, John has the first movie queued up and the four of them settle onto the couch in a tangle of limbs. Someone’s drink is guaranteed to get spilled, and Roger is already flicking popcorn at the TV when he thinks no one is looking, and it’s messy and chaotic and loud in a way that none of them have been in weeks.

Maybe tomorrow Brian will withdraw again, and John’s brow will furrow with stress, and Roger will throw another pair of drumsticks out the window in frustration - but Freddie isn’t worrying about any of that right now. He’s not worrying about how to put on a brave face and cheer up his friends, and he’s not worrying about the future or the world outside their door.

All Freddie is thinking, as the opening credits draw to a close and Brian makes a horrified noise as the movie starts in earnest, is that living with his three friends was absolutely the best decision that Freddie ever made.

[rushingheadlong]

Trust Issues - A Maylor Imagine

For an anon request for “Anything for Maylor”

———

“For fuck’s sake, Brian, I don’t see why this is a big deal! I just played a few chords for Tim for that song idea we were talking about!”

“You shouldn’t be touching my stuff,” Brian retorts. He’s still holding tightly onto his guitar and studying it carefully, double-checking that there isn’t anything wrong with it. 

Roger knows that he didn’t do anything to the Red Special, and watching Brian inspect it for the thousandth time since he came back into the studio and lost his mind only fuels Roger’s anger. “I didn’t damage your fucking guitar, you know,” he snaps. “I know you think all us drummers are idiots but I learned to play guitar first, and I know how to handle one.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Brian says. “You shouldn’t be-”

“If you say that I shouldn’t be touching your shit one more time I’m walking out of this room and breaking up with you!” Roger interrupts. 

Brian looks up at Roger with wide eye. “What? But why-?”

“Because we’re supposed to be dating, but clearly you don’t trust me,” Roger says. He wants it to be angry, but Brian looks confused and a little scared and instead his words just come out sounding defeated. “I don’t know why, I don’t know what I did that makes you think I’d damage your guitar, but if this is how little faith you have in me then maybe- maybe we should just call it quits now.”

“Roger- Rog, no, god…” Brian finally sets the Red Special in her case and faces Roger properly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I don’t think you’re an idiot and I know you’d never do anything to my guitar. It’s just…”

“Just what?” Roger prompts when Brian’s voice trails off and he doesn’t immediate finish that thought. “Tell me, Bri, because I want to understand this but I- I don’t.”

“It’s just that, well, I built her myself.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the story before,” Roger says. It still amazes him, what Brian and his father managed to accomplish, but knowing why Brian is a bit overprotective of his guitar doesn’t make the memory of a panicked Brian wrenching Red out of Roger’s hands sting any less. “I was probably more careful with your guitar than I’ve been with any other instrument in my life.”

“And I know that, I do! But Rog, this guitar… she’s my voice. Everything I write, everything I play, it’s all designed to work with her. If she breaks, I can’t just pick up another guitar and go on.”

Roger tilts his head in confusion. “But you built this guitar. You must know how to put it back together if it breaks.”

Brian lets out a small huff, not quite a laugh but maybe close enough. “Roger, the Red Special is made of junk. Knitting needles and bits off my old bike… It’s half a miracle that we got her working at all. If she breaks, I can’t just take her to a repair shop and my dad-” Brian swallows harshly, and Roger can hear how much effort it takes Brian to say, “My dad thinks it’s about time I gave up being in a band and focused more on my studies. If Red breaks, I don’t think he’d help me fix her. And I don’t know that I could do it on my own.”

Roger didn’t actually know all of that, and before he can wrap his head around everything that Brian is telling him the guitarist continues, “It’s one thing, you know, if I’m in the room and you ask to play her, because then if something goes wrong I know what happened.” He smile at Roger, a bit weakly, and adds, “And you’re about one of the only people in the world that I’d let touch my guitar, because I do trust you. I just… need know about it, and I need to be there too.”

“Okay,” Roger says, without hesitation. “I can do that. And I’m sorry, Bri. I didn’t realize…”

“It’s alright,” Brian interrupts. “I should’ve explained this to you sooner instead of just freaking out.”

“I think you had a right to freak out a little,” Roger says with a small laugh. He opens his arms and Brian steps forward into the embrace, and Roger can feel him relaxing against him. “I’m sorry I threatened to break up with you too,” he adds, a little softer. “I would never. I love you too much.”

“I love you too.” Brian pulls back, just enough to look down at Roger, and his smile is a little brighter now than it was just moments before. “Wanna get out of here and head home?”

Roger leans up and captures Brian’s lips in a kiss. He intends for it to be quick but they end up lingering there, neither one willing to be the first to break the embrace. “Yeah,” Roger murmurs against Brian’s mouth. “Let’s go home.”

[rushingheadlong]

Take This Message - Two Maycury Fics

Summary: Two short Maycury fics inspired by the Calling All Girls music video. In the first, Freddie with the help of Brian has to propose the video idea to Roger. The second is a short AU based on the video itself.

Wordcount: ~500 each (1k total)

Tags: Maycury, fluff (1st fic), AU and H/C (2nd fic)

Notes: Written for an anon prompt for a Maycury fic inspired by the Calling All Girls video, particularly the moment between Brian and Freddie where they’re touching hands through the cage. I have to admit that the CAG video isn’t my favorite, so we’ve gone with two shorter fills rather than one longer one, but I hope you still enjoy these!

“This is the dumbest fucking video idea I’ve ever heard,” Roger says flatly.

Next to him John picks at his nails. He’s staying quiet, for now, but it’s clear from the look on his face that he’s not impressed with the suggestion either.

Freddie huffs. “Oh don’t be ridiculous, it’s not that bad!”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with the song!” Roger says. “I mean, robot guards? Scientific experiments? It doesn’t make any sense!”

“It’s about the importance of love and friendship and individuality!” Freddie says. “It’s playing off the idea of Take a message of love. I thought that was obvious!”

Roger snorts and mutters, “Yeah, it’s really not.” He sighs and shakes his head in frustration. “It’s just a simple pop song, Fred. Why can’t we just perform the fucking song for the video?”

“Because we already did that for Back Chat,” John tells him.

“Since when has that made a difference?”

“Since everyone started making music videos,” Freddie says to Roger. “We need to stand out, darling! We need to get creative, and this is creative!”

“It’s shit, is what it is!” Roger snaps.

Freddie bristles and, underneath the table, Brian places one hand on his knee and squeezes gently to comfort him. He knows that Freddie had been excited about this video idea. He spent most of the previous evening talking about it, until Brian had finally pinned him to their bed and kissed him into silence.

“It’ll match the design of the other videos we’ve made so far,” Brian explains to Roger. Freddie places his on top of Brian’s and laces their fingers together as Brian talks. “And besides, Freddie’s the one who will have to do most of the bad acting this time. Not us.”

“Hey!” Freddie protests. Brian gives him an apologetic smile and kisses the corner of his mouth.

“Fine,” Roger relents. “We can make the video, just as long as you two don’t spend the entire shoot eye-fucking each other like you did with Body Language…”

“It’s not my fault Brian looks so good in black…” Freddie purrs as he pulls Brian down into a kiss. Roger pretends to gag, but Freddie just laughs against Brian’s mouth because he knows that Roger isn’t really bothered by the PDA.

“Are you going to warn him about the cage scene, or no?” Brian murmurs, just loud enough for Freddie alone to hear.

Freddie breaks the kiss and winks at Brian before he says to Roger, in a perfectly innocent voice, “Don’t you worry, Rog. There won’t be a single hint of eye-fucking to be found this time. I promise…”

----------

He knew Freddie was going to be trouble from the moment he first saw him. He introduced himself as Freddie, as his name, not the numbers they were assigned when they came to this place. He asked their names too and, over time, in the rare moments of privacy away from the guards they told him: Roger. John. And his name - Brian. A name that he hasn’t been called in far too long.

Freddie is bright. He’s full of song, and color, and thoughts, and feelings. He seeks out Brian in their quiet moments away from their duties and talks to him, about his hopes and dreams for the world and their lives - hopes and dreams that don’t have a place in the organization where they’ve both found themselves.

And Brian finds himself starting to dream again too. He finds himself feeling again - dangerous feelings that stir in his chest every time he glances at Freddie across their work station. Every time they pass each other in those stark-white halls and Freddie risks a delicate touch across the back of Brian’s hand. Every time Freddie seeks him out in the dead of night, and crawls into his bunk so they can trade whispered stories and gentle caresses.

Freddie kisses him and Brian kisses him back, and he thinks, This is going to end badly.

And it does.

They find out that Freddie is different and they arrest him, and take him in for what they call correction - and what Brian now realizes is breaking. Wearing Freddie down with force and experiments and, when that fails, time in isolation, until his spirit crumbles and he falls in line. Like they all fell in line, years ago, before Freddie came along and showed them what cowards they had all become.

Brian lies in his bunk at night and he feels alone. He works during the day and feels the pointless monotony of what they do. He looks around and sees the stifling oppression of conformity, sees the resentment growing in Roger’s and John’s eyes, sees the echoes of Freddie’s touch in every corner of their stark and listless world.

They say that Freddie is dangerous and they’ve locked him up to prove their point, but as Brian presses a hand against the bars and locks eyes with Freddie he doesn’t see that danger. He doesn’t even see a traitor, or a defective worker, or any of the things they say that Freddie is.

He just sees Freddie, and maybe there’s still a hint of trouble glinting in those warm brown eyes, but he wouldn’t be Freddie without that.

Freddie has a hand pressed against the barrier as well, exactly where Brian’s is, and their fingertips just barely graze against each other through the bars of Freddie’s cell. Brian remembers a time, not that long ago, when even a simple touch like that felt impossibly taboo. Now, he finds himself staring into Freddie’s eyes and yearning to kiss him and hold him and wrap himself around Freddie completely and never let him go again.

“Are you here to save me, darling?” Freddie asks. There’s the faintest hint of a smile playing around the edges of his mouth, and for the first time in a very long time Brian feels himself smiling as well.

“Yeah, I am,” Brian says, and his smile grows a little wider, a little wilder, as he adds, “And then we’re going to save everyone else too.”

[rushingheadlong]

RushingHeadlong’s Almost-Kinda 1-Year Fic Celebration?

So my 1 year on this blog was actually. Well. At the beginning of March.

But there’s this little pandemic going on, and I got caught up writing the Nautical AU, and then I blinked and suddenly it’s almost May? How that happened I have no idea but, well, here we are somehow. Nearly two months past my 1-year anniversary over here and with nothing to show for it.

So, since I promised to do another round of open fic prompts a month back and never did that, and since I started this blog purely to avoid posting fic on my main, and since I just so happen to be between writing projects at the moment, I am opening up fic prompts and lifting almost all my usual restrictions on prompting.

You can submit a prompt for a <1k fic, ask for a moodboard with a short imagine, and/or cast a vote on an existing WIP of mine that you just want me to finish. 

GO HERE to leave prompt(s). And keep reading below for more info on what I’m willing to write (which is, for once, almost anything)!

I will not write BoRhap cast fic or Freddie/f!Reader romance. Apart from that, anything goes for this - including f!Reader smut, non-Reader fic, AUs, present-day fic, etc.

Fic prompts will be filled as <1k stories. You have the option of requesting a longer fill if you have a prompt you want to see me dive deeper into, but I reserve the right to fill these as shorter fics if I don’t think I can do it justice or to take longer to write them if I really get into it. 

Moodboards with an imagine will be filled like this or this but with fics closer to 500 words rather than 1k. 

If you just want to cast a vote for an existing WIP of mine, there are 6 options to choose from (some of which I’ve talked about before, others that I haven’t). You can vote for as many as you like, or none at all.

Prompts are being accepted from April 27 to May 1st, and will be filled the following week. If you want to be tagged when your request is filled please leave a URL with your prompt!

[rushingheadlong]

1-Year Fic Celebration Notes

Thank you to everyone who submitted prompts for this! I got 7 prompts which is a perfectly manageable amount, so posting will start tomorrow and continue with one post a day through the end of the week!

All filled prompts will be tagged with #1YearFics so please block that tag if you don’t want to see any of this! (If you don’t know how to block tags, check out the help center article here.)

Individual fills will also be tagged as #my fic or #my hc depending on if they’re short imagines or longer fics. 

Also, to the person who requested a fic based on the Calling All Girls video - can you send me a message with some clarification on what you’re looking for? I’m not sure if you want an AU, a behind-the-scenes of filming fic, or something else altogether.

As it stands I’m not sure I can fill this for you this week, but I’d be willing to work on writing something to post a little later if you can just give me a bit more guidance on what you want here. (Your other requests are already being worked on though and will definitely be posted this week! ♥)

[rushingheadlong]

Thank you to everyone who submitted prompts for this! I had so much fun filling these and it was great to see the wide variety of requests from everyone!

Rather than reblogging every individual post one last time, I put together this mini masterpost instead! (And all fics can be found on my regular Fic Masterpost as well.)

Fics

Lockdown Blues

♪ Gen, H/C, vague modern & early Queen AU, ~2k words ♪ Freddie has made it his mission to keep everyone’s spirits up while they’re stuck at home. He doesn’t think the others have noticed - but they have, and they’re ready to remind him that they have his back too.

Together With You

♪ 18+, smut, Brian May/F!Reader, cockwarming, ~1.9k words ♪ You spend an intimate morning keeping Brian company as he works.

Take This Message

♪ Two Maycury fics, one AU & H/C, one fluff, ~500 words each ♪ Two short Maycury fics inspired by the Calling All Girls music video. In the first, Freddie with the help of Brian has to propose the video idea to Roger. The second is a short AU based on the video itself.

Baked With Love

♪ Gen, fluff, vague modern Queen AU, ~1.2k ♪ No matter how famous they get, Queen has one birthday tradition that they refuse to give up.

Alone Time

♪ 18+, smut, Brian May solo, masturbation & toys, ~1.1k ♪ Brian always tells himself that he’s going to take his time with this... but he never does.

Almost Make Believe

♪ 18+, smut, Brian May/F!Reader, 1998 Tank Top Brian, arm kink, semi-public sex, ~2.6k ♪ When you saw Brian’s performance at the Big Mama Club you thought nothing could ever top being front-and-center to him rocking out in a tight black tank top… and then you run into him a bar after the show, and your night goes from great to amazing.

Moodboards & Imagines

Buttons - A Maycury Imagine

Brian May & Tony Iommi - A Platonic Imagine

Trust Issues - A Maylor Imagine

[rushingheadlong]

Hey! Just wanted to say thanks for filling in my Anon fic requests! I tried asking other writers fo fill Two of the requests for nearly a year to no avail, so I was pleasantly surprised to see such quick work from you. Are you going to open fic requests again, or is this it?

You are very welcome, anon! I'm not sure which of the requests were yours but I've honestly had a blast writing all of these, so thank you for sending them in! ♥

I’m actually accepting fic requests all the time, but I don’t generally take requests for f!Reader smut. (Which I know is disappointing to most people, since I haven't actually gotten a single request since I announced that last fall lolwhoops.)

I have a general FAQ for submitting requests here but basically: if you want reader a Reader insert fic please specify the gender (or I’ll default to unspecified), and I’ll write almost anything except BoRhap cast fic, romantic/sexual Freddie x f!Reader, pregnancy/kid fic, and a small handful of kinks.

Also I know I wrote the fics for the #1YearFics week pretty fast, but I can’t promise a turnaround time for requests. Generally I try to post within a week and if I think it’ll take longer than that (or if I don’t think I can write your request) I’ll let you know so you can take the prompt to someone else if you want.

[rushingheadlong]

Brian May + Tank Tops - 31/??

► “I love you ‘cos you’re sweet and I love you 'cos you’re naughty…” (Big Mama Club, June 1998)