#Come along Rib! (Bri) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

j0hn-deacons-perm · 4 years

Text

Charcoal Dust

Female reader x Brian May

Word Count ~6,100.

I had this fic sitting in my documents since August and re-reading it, I didn’t hate it. So I guess I’m posting it. A bit of a warning I suppose...it goes get slightly suggestive but not 18+..If you’re sensative to that sort of thing, maybe skip this one my dudes.

With the last flick of your eyeliner, you deem yourself ready to head out to the bar. Freddie wanted to let off some steam with finals and you couldn't help but to join in. The apartment you two share have been littered with projects and materials and he almost strangled you for not cleaning up your charcoal dust. With that being the straw which broke the camel's back, tonight is to just get shit faced and to have fun. At least Fred settled one a bar that isn't too much of a walk so you don't have to worry about driving. Grabbing your coat, you leave the complex and into the cold december night.

***

"Y/N, dearie, you're here! Finally the night can commence!"

Freddie runs to you and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"The boys are here as well. Can't tell you how much work it took to get John out."

Your eyes settle on Deaky, already a bit drunk and waving at you with a grin. "Evenin' Y/N! How's it going?"

"Not as good as you from the looks of it. But I bet a couple drinks could fix that."

You turn to the bar and order your usual mix drink along with a round of shots for everyone.

"Here's to having a good night amongst friends!"

"Cheers!"

Everyone downs their shot and you finally sit down, taking the empty spot next to Deaky. Roger and Brian seem to be in their own little world talking about something so you don't bother with that can of worms yet.

"Y/N, did you find a new model for your drawing yet?"

"Nope. That fucking Steven kid answered my ad, took my payment then just vanished. Won't answer the phone, haven't seen him around campus..I'm out like 80 quid and nothing to draw for my final."

"Ouch. What does it entail exactly?"

"I need to do a live nude model study."

Roger's ears seem to perk up with the mention of 'nude'.

"I can help you out with that, love."

Brian rolls his eyes and Freddie chuckles.

"So, me buying you a shot doesn't get your attention but mentioning I need to draw a naked person does?"

"Well, yeah. You should know this by now."

"I thought alcohol and nudity were on the same tier of importance to you, Taylor."

"Close..but not quite."

You nod at him with a fake academic-like expression as you rub your chin.

"Right, so if anyone knows someone who would be down to model for me let me know."

"I just said I was!"

"Anyone but Roger."

"Oh! What about Brian, dear? He'd be a great model."

The man in question glares.

"Uh..Fred, I don't think so."

"Why ever the fuck not? I've seen you naked before, May. You'd be fantastic. Plus Y/N gets to see your cute little bottom and huge cock!"

His cheeks turn bright red.

"Absolutely not, Fred."

Freddie looks over to your face, laughing despite blushing profusely. He knows of your small crush on the guitarist and loves to relish in opportunities making you and Brian uncomfortable in hopes you two would actually do something. Much to his, and your disappointment, nothing ever happens.

"Well I would do it but I don't have the time in my schedule considering I'm going to be stuck in the art building working on my own shit. Now come on, don't subject her to Roger."

Brian looks over to you, finding you playing with a hem on your shirt, trying to distract yourself from the awkward conversation.

"Well we both know Bri's not going to do it, so when can I come over, love?"

With a slump of your shoulders, you face the blonde.

"It's not a sexual thing where I draw everything, you know. You're going to be in a pose you can hold for a long period of time while I focus on drawing mainly your prominent body landmarks like ribs, pelvis, and muscles along with bones."

"See, Bri? It's not a personal experience, she's just studying your anatomy. With how lanky you are, it'd be easy to see everything."

"I'll also pay you for your time. Might be a bit before I can get the money but you will be compensated. Also if it's too much for you, you can wear your underwear for most of it until I need to get a certain part."

He looks between you and Freddie, a sigh escapes his lips.

"Fine. I'll do it."

Freddie smirks at you and gives a wink before coming into to whisper in your ear.

"Just a heads up, I've seen him naked and you may have to draw three legs."

You turn bright red but can't help but to cackle at his comment. Brian rolls his eyes and says 'fucker' under his breath.

*** A couple drinks turn to quite a few and talking with Brian ended up with the date, time and place for your drawing session. Now that three days have passed, the time arrives along with four knocks on the door.

"Hey Y/N."

"Hey Bri, thank you so much again for doing this for me."

He looks around the living room and sees you've set up your workspace: an easel, one of the living room chairs and one of the end tables with your box of drawing utensils. He also looks at how it's pointed towards the sofa with a sheet draped on it.

"How would you like me?"

"Comfortable. You'd probably be stuck in that spot for a while. I have pillows if you want 'em."

He nods and sits down on the sofa while you go towards the record player and pop on one of your favorite records.

"I like to work to music so hope you're okay listening to the Beatles for a few hours."

"Why would I complain about good music?"

You chuckle as you sit down in your spot, making any last minute adjustments to the easel's height. Turning your head to the sofa, you see him unbuckling his belt before slipping his shirt off. Back towards you.

Freddie was right, he has a good figure to make this assignment easy for you. Despite trying to stay professional, it's hard to not check out your crush as he strips. When the pants start slipping off, you turn away, too shy to look anymore.

He is your friend, Y/N...he is your friend who is helping you with a project. Don't make this weird..

But then you remember your roll of tape for the sheet so when it's break time, you won't lose the pose.

Shit...

"Hey Bri, once you settle on a pose, would it be okay if I put some tape around you so we don't lose the pose after we take a break?"

"Yeah, that's okay. I also might take you up on that pillow offer."

"Sounds good, I'll be right back."

You smile as you get up and leave for your bedroom to grab him a couple pillows off your bed. When you walk back into the living room, you swear the air has shifted once you see him laying in his underwear on the couch, watching the record spin on the turn table. A knot forms in your stomach..

You're working on your final, you're working on your final, you're working on your final.....

You walk up towards him and hands him the pillows. He promptly adjusts them to fit his pose.

"This alright for your composition, Y/N?"

"Let me check."

You sit down back in your chair and look at what you can see. You can see many of the body's landmarks..ribs, collar bones, muscles, parts of the pelvis...but not the strongest for a good composition.

"The pose is fine but I'm going to move over a bit to get a more interesting angle of ya."

You scoot your set up closer towards the turntable, giving a more dynamic angle of your model.

"Alright, we're looking good. Just need to tape where you're at and we can get started."

Hands slightly shaking on the masking tape roll, you rip pieces off and place them where Brian's posed. It's easy to tell he's tense.

"Bri, you're welcome to chat during this if you want. And whenever you want to take a break to stretch out, do not hesitate to ask."

"Sounds good, love. I guess I'm ready when you are."

He's called you love before but now it seems a bit different...

HE IS JUST HELPING YOU ON YOUR FINAL PROJECT, STOP IT

You rub over your paper pad, sighing and grab your hard charcoal to get the initial lines and shapes in. You can see him closing his eyes once more marks land on your paper. His shoulders also slowly begin to become less tense.

*** Two full albums later, Brian calls break time. You clean your hands off on your pants and set your charcoal back in its box next to you. Having the main structures done and angles correct, you feel good about the progress.

"How's it coming along, love?"

"I think maybe another hour or so and we'll be good."

"Can I sneak a look or is it confidential?"

You nod your head for him to take a look, his presence now behind your back as he analyzes your work. Nerves become more apparent the longer he's silent. You're about to look over your shoulder until you hear him say

"I'm really liking it so far, Y/N. Fred's told us about your work and it's incredibly articulate. However it is odd knowing that's me on your paper."

You blush profusely at his compliment, even more so now that you realize he's extremely close to your body wearing just underwear.

"Well how about I grab you a robe and I'll make us some coffee?"

"Sounds lovely to me, especially since seeing how you're fully clothed, I'm a bit vulnerable."

"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable! Let's get that robe."

"I'm not uncomfortable, just a bit cold maybe."

Leaving for your room once again, you grab your robe. It might be a bit too short for the gentle giant in your living room but it's better than nothing.

"I'm surprised you didn't give me Fred's."

"You don't want it, trust me."

He laughs, tying the belt around his middle and follows you into the small kitchen to grab his favorite mug whenever he visits. The silence grows more comfortable as you hear the coffee drip into the small pot and another cabinet opens to grab the sugar. You open the fridge to grab the milk. Your pour the hot liquid as he adds the sugar to the two mugs, followed by the splash of milk you like in yours. Smiles meet each other and you two sit back in the living room, a new record begging to be played.

"Want more Beatles or how about just some John? I have Plastic Ono Band and Imagine."

"Oh god, that's a decision isn't it?"

"It really is. I'm half tempted to just put Hard Day's Night on."

"Did you see that in theaters? The girls went absolutely mad."

"With that scene with John in the bath? I'm sure I still have hearing issues from that. It got even worse seeing Help."

"George bit?"

"George bit."

Laughs echoed amongst the walls, sharing knowing glances at how loud the shrieking was.

"Have to love sort of shared traumatic experiences. But I'm intrigued, who is your favorite of the four?"

"The Beatles or Queen?"

A slight smirk dances across his lips.

"Beatles? When I was younger, Paul. In more recent years, has to be John. I really respect his political work and his solo albums are so personal and raw."

He nods at your answer, agreeing.

"But with you lot? No one. Don't tell Freddie that, he'll plant something in my bed."

He answers in a hearty laugh.

'It's not like I can say you before we get back to working on a naked drawing of you...'

*** With Lennon playing on the speakers and more charcoal on paper, you're back at it again. Brian somehow managed to get himself back into the same pose with one or two directions from you. Things are now going easier considering the drawing is now just filling in the blanks until you couldn't get one detail right due to it being covered by his underwear. The more you try to remember how the muscles and bone look, the more incorrect it looks to your eyes. The inevitable needs to happen.

"Hey Brian, I'm hating to ask this but uh...I can't get the lower abs to look right with the pelvis. Could you....takeyourunderwearoff."

The last part just rushed past your lips as fast as you could. Your cheeks are bright red, a tell tale sign being how hot your face just became. It's even worse when he arches his brow.

"What was that last part?"

You sigh deeply.

"Could you...take your underwear off so I can get your pelvis a bit better?"

"Oh...uh, yeah."

His cheeks probably match yours but you cover your eyes while he strips the last bit of cloth standing between him being completely exposed in front of you.

"Alright Y/N, you can look now."

His nervous laughter is puntuated with your eyes opening again. While you have a clearer view of the muscles in question, you also have a clearer view of other things.

You now understand why it's called a happy trail.

Correcting his angles once again, you start where you just left off. Only to have the record stop playing, meaning you had to stand up and change the music. Meaning probably a clear view of his, what Freddie called, 'his third leg'. Hands slightly shakey as they remove the vinyl and put it back in its respective sleeve. Fingers lead their way towards Revolver, your go-to homework album. Once the intro of Taxman plays, you make your way back to your seat. During which, your peripheral vision does you dirty.

Fred wasn't entirely kidding. Dear god, Y/N, you're almost done just finish your damn project so Bri can go home and you can take a cold shower...

You sit back down and sigh, taking your charcoal and getting back to work, correcting any inaccuracies caused by his underwear being in the way and adding more to his figure. Side one is over far too soon, causing you to get up and be betrayed by your eyes once again.

At least now it's just adding a bit of definition to the head and small details. Taking the blunt end of your charcoal stick, you begin adding some hair to the drawing. The couple hairs on his chest, a gesture of pubic hair and some messy lines for the curls on top of his head. Staring at his face now, he peeks his eyes open and winks at you then smiles.

"I thought you weren't going to draw my face?"

"Just a little something so it's not just a blank shape."

"Alright. Do you want my eyes open or closed?"

"Do what you want, Bri."

His eyes land on the legs of your easel, moving them around a bit to follow the smudges of paint and charcoal about. Your eyes trace along the angles of his face, adding them to the basic head shape you added during the beginning steps. Browbone, cheeks, nose, eyes, brows, and gesture of his slightly open mouth put down on paper as you mark it done. Looking at the lower right corner of your paper and taking your thin marker, you write your name, class session, semester, and model's first name.

"Alright Bri, I think we're good to go. Want to come take a look?"

Standing up and putting your robe back on, he walks behind the chair. His eyes take in the final composition, from the pillows to his curls all the way down to how to managed to get the angle right on his feet. The sofa, while made of basic abstract shapes, make him look like he's properly weighed out on the cushions.

"It's weird seeing me like that."

"I bet. Talking with some of the models outside of class, they tell me it takes some getting used to seeing shit like this."

"Seeing what others see in your naked body is very...daunting. I think you made me look too good to be honest."

"I just drew what I saw, May."

You look up behind you and catch him blushing, looking down at you while smiling.

"You are incredibly talented, Y/N. If you don't get an A, I'm taking personal offense with your instructor."

You blush hard at the compliment while laughing at his comment.

"Honestly, I would too. You made a beautiful model, Bri. It was an honor to draw you."

Why did I just say that?..

He looks away, face looking shy. He takes compliments almost as bad as you. He sits down back on the sofa, looking at you.

"Now, you did say at the bar that I'd be compensated for my time."

"That I did."

You start to pack away your drawing supplies before digging a can of hairspray out of your backpack. Spraying a light coat over your drawing, you let it dry before packing it away for safe keeping.

His eyes watch you dismantle your workspace, showing him something you've done nearly a hundred times over. Little did you know, seeing you in your element like this made his heart swell. Brian knew you were an art student but never saw you at work. Little did he know, yours did the same when you saw him at practice or on stage. After cleaning up and putting furniture back in their right spots, you sit down in the chair to only find Brian patting the cushion next to him. Giving him a fake glare, you sit next to him.

"I've been thinking of payment and would it just be fine if we ordered some take away and hung out? I'd feel bad taking your money."

"You sure? I'd feel bad not compensating you for your time."

"Y/N, I laid on your couch, chatted with you and listened to my favorite music. Yeah it was a bit weird considering I take a girl out before she sees me naked but hey."

You laugh nervously at his joke, blushing for probably the 53rd time that night.

"I'll get dressed and we'll head out, that good for you?"

"Yeah. I need to change clothes anyway."

"Why? You look cute covered in charcoal."

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest like a looney toons character. You and the guys are used to calling eachother cute or handsome but something about him being just about naked underneath your robe after drawing him for nearly two hours makes your heart race at a dangerous pace.

"Let's get ready, hmm?"

He stands up, clothes in tow as he walks to the bathroom. The sound of the door closing brings you back to the moment. Grabbing your pillows and sheet off the couch, you leave for your room. The slight smell of him lingering on the fabric fills your nostrils as you throw it towards your laundry basket.

"Goddammit...don't get your hopes up. It's not like this is a date, Y/N..." You whisper under your breath.

Grabbing the clothes you wore earlier today, you get dressed and apply a little extra deodarant and perfume. By the time you've put your shoes on and out of your room, he's slipping his shoes on. Even in mid-December, he's wearing his clogs. He hears your laughter from across the room.

"What's so funny?"

"Bri, it's Christmas in nearly two weeks and you're wearing clogs? If you slip on ice thanks to those things, I’m not helping you up."

"It hasn’t snowed yet, though! Have to wear them while there's still time. Besides, look who's bloody talking wearing canvas sneakers in the cold."

"At least my entire foot is in the shoe."

"That's it, I'm not letting you borrow my scarf if it's still windy. Not with that attitude."

You smack his arm and grab your purse off the coat rack. Locking the door behind you is the last thing before you two leave for any place that is still serving food at this hour.

***

Only getting as far as a corner store, you two buy a couple drinks then enough snacks to constitute a meal. The walk back to the apartment was on the quiet side, Brian looking up to the sky every few blocks in a vain attempt to see any stars that would accompany the moon shining that night. Not much for viewing besides the waxing moon hanging above your heads, hundreds of thousands miles away.

"Hey Bri?"

His features seem almost guilty, being caught in the act but he smiles at you.

"Would it be possible for you to teach me some things about what's up there? Fred's showed me some astrology stuff but it would be kinda cool seeing the constellations and what makes them, y'know?"

"I'd just talk your ear off."

"Can't be too bad, I deal with that already."

You wink as he rolls his eyes.

"But I'm serious, I want to know a little bit about what you study in uni. Especially since we go to different schools, it'd be interesting seeing another side of academics that isn't just color theory or how to mathematically draw cylinders."

"How do you mathematically draw cylinders?"

"It's all about angles and where it sits in space, mostly. Getting that perspective correct. After enough practice I guess you can just sort of see it rather than drawing out all these different grids and lines."

"Does that tie in with drawing people?...That's probably a stupid question of course it does."

"It does but with that, you also need to keep in mind where things in the body are. In our class we also have to do these...sculpting lessons. We're given half a skeleton on a stand and we sculpt the muscles using clay."

He nods, listening to you talk about your coursework and your subject matters from basics to more focused studies. Once back to your apartment, you find Freddie has returned from the art building. The noises of you and Brian taking off shoes and coats made him pop his head around the wall.

"Y/N, lovie, how did your drawing session go?"

"Rather well! Want to see it?"

"Well of course, dear!"

You grab your and Brian's bags from the corner store and place it on the kitchen counter before heading over to your drawing pad, propped up against your chair. Nerves arise as you watch his eyes gaze over your work, the smell of the hairspray you used seal in the charcoal floating to your nostrils.

"Fucking hell, this is brilliant. If you get a bad mark I'm visiting your professor during office hours and giving them a piece of my mind."

He looks down Brian's legs on the paper, your careful contour lines elegantly outlining the muscles.

"I think you forgot a leg, though."

Brian's rolls his eyes as Fred's cackle fills the room. You slap the sketchpad closed and return it to it's spot next to your school bag. A sympathetic look is aimed towards your model.

"Come on you two, lighten up. How about a game of Scrabble, hmm?"

"It is getting a little late, Fred, and Brian has to get back to his place."

"He knows he's welcome to crash on the couch if he wants."

The man in question looks between you two, biting his lip in thought.

"I wouldn't mind crashing here tonight. I'm sure Roger wouldn't mind the flat to himself."

"Then it's settled. You old ladies get your food out of the kitchen and we start this game."

What wasn't expected was Brian winning with such a lead. You could've sworn you've seen Fred's eyes glow red as he told the curly haired man to get out of his home for disrepecting him that severely. He went to bed infuriated as he left you two out in the living room to watch TV.

"You sure you want to spend the rest of your Friday night here?"

"It's technically Saturday morning now."

"Smart ass."

He smiles and slowly leans towards you on the sofa, his warmth sneaking up the arm closest to him.

"Hey Bri?"

He hums in response, eyes not leaving the program painting the screen.

"I never really properly thanked you for helping me with my assignment. You honestly saved my grade modeling for me."

He turns his head to face you, eyes looking at yours illuminated by the screen's light.

"You're more than welcome, love. It was interesting watching you work. You have this little face you make when you're really concentrated."

"Where I don't blink and my mouth is partially open? That's my focusing amphibian look."

He chuckles.

"Roger does the same thing but that's his confused look."

"I thought his confused face was this.."

You imitate the face you've seen many times during your homework sessions with the boys. Also when he tries to understand what Fred wants to do add extra flair to shows or songs.

"No, you're right. That's the one." He laughs.

Comfortable silence floats around the air as you two continue watching telly. Thirty meants turn into 90 as the episodes of various shows play before you. Slight comments here and there said but it wasn't until Brian laid his head on top of your head that something was really spoken.

"I have a question."

"Care to share with the class, May?"

You can feel his cheeks stretch out with a slight smile.

"Would you think less of me if I put my studies on hold when, or even if the band gets bigger? I know we only have one album out at the minute but I've thought about it and..."

Patting his knee, you spoke.

"I could never think less of you for persuing something like that. You and the guys have worked your asses off and if, no, when your hardwork pays off, grab those opportunities. You earned any success that comes your way."

He moves his head to look directly into your eyes.

"Knowing you, you'll eventually get your PhD but sometimes life throws you a curveball and you have to just roll with what it gives you. If it's Queen, then see it through."

Surprise washes over you as he gives you a hug, enveloping you in his arms tightly as his face creates a home in the crook of your neck. This breath along your skin giving away to goosebumps.

"I've been thinking about this for weeks and um...."

"Did you already drop out, Bri?"

"No, no..."

"Uh huh..." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Seriously, Y/N, I haven't dropped out of uni. I've been thinking about...."

You pull away and look at his eyes directly, cheeks flushed even in the low light of the living room.

"What is it?"

He sighs, looking down at his lap.

"You."

Eyes going wide, you look at anything but him. The stray floaty in the air, the reflection of light as a car drives past your flat, the one stray strand of yarn or whatever it is sticking out of the rug on the floor.

"I'm not saying this because you drew me naked and I'm feeling obligated to but tonight made me realize something."

Your eyes finally focusing on your hands, fingernails picking at cuticles.

"If this does become something larger than life, I don't want to leave you behind. When Freddie introduced us to you last year, there was something about you I couldn't shake off. I wasn't sure what it was the chalk pastel dust you were covered in or something else."

You smile at his words but your heart doesn't lighten up the speed at the rate it's beating. When it comes loose, it's going to skyrocket across the English channel.

"But now actually getting to know you over time and tonight made me come to the conclusion that....I certainly have feelings for you and I don't know what you want to do with that information."

Your fingers stop picking at a loose bit of skin on the side of your nail and you swear your heart just stopped in your chest. Eyes wide, you stare at him. Mouth agape, not knowing what to say other than just "Bri..."

"I can see I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. Maybe I should head ho-"

As he begins to stand up, you grab his wrist and pull him right back down towards your side.

"Meeting you was one of the most profound days in my life, Bri. You...fuck,...I'm not a wordsmith and I'm nervous as all hell right now."

He smiles ever so slightly but his leg bounces with such vigor you wouldn't be surprised if your downstairs neighbor complained to the landlord tomorrow.

"And now hearing you may have feelings for me? Like...how do I even process this when it's something I've been wanting to hear for almost a year?"

It's now his turn for his eyes to buldge open in shock.

"When you first talked to me about astrophysics and I saw your entire demeanor light up with such passion, my heart damn near stopped. I couldn't focus on anything else but you. Even when you're just relaxed I feel like that. You're breathtaking and I'm pretty sure I went comotose and had a lucid dream seeing you perform with the boys for the first time."

He smiles, eyes looking directly into yours as your mouth just vomits out any word you promised to never let out.

"I've fallen for you so hard. I love your smile and laugh. I love the slope of your nose. I love that you've let your hair be curly because let's be real, you looked real questionable when you straightened it."

He laughs and you can tell his cheeks are heating up.

"I love that little noise you make when you find something interesting in your textbooks and your hums when you're thinking of a new song and your little eyerolls at the boys when they're being dumbasses and your sense of humor and just......fuck, look at you! You're so fucking handsome and that's even with the clogs!"

He grabs your hands, rubbing his thumbs against the knuckles. His smile shining so bright even with the low light from the television that's now taken a backside seat of your conversation. He looks down at your entertwined hands.

"Calling you a friend and wanting to see you has gotten me out of bed so many days Y/N, I've lost count. I can't even imagine if you'd be more than a friend to me but I guess we can find out."

Your smile has extended to lengths you didn't know possible. Letting go of his hands, you wrap your arms around him instead.

"I forgot to say this, but I also love your hugs."

A chuckle escapes his chest and he holds you tighter, a kiss lands on your cheek. Time goes by as shows flash before your eyes, eventually leading to you falling asleep in his arms with him not too far behind.

*** Hours pass before you awake, head laying on his lap and knees tucked in. Sitting up, you find him using the arm rest as his pillow, arms crossed underneath his face. He looks so peaceful and you don't want to take him up but you want to sleep in your bed.

Dare you ask if he wants to join you?

It'll just be us sleeping together in the same bed and maybe cuddles...?

You brush his curls away from his face, tucking what you can behind his ear as you shake him gently.

"Hey Brian..?"

He doesn't stir, contemplating on just his carrying his lanky ass to your room.

"Bri.. wake up, hon. Come on."

You continue rubbing his upper arm until he stirs awake, opening his eyes and squinting at the screen's light.

"...What time is it?"

"Late. Would you want to sleep on the couch or my bed?"

"I'm fine out here, I don't want to take your bed from you."

You smile and chuckly slightly.

"I mean share the bed with me."

He smiles at the idea but eyes are shy.

"I'd like that."

You two stand up, him shutting up the TV and you leading the way to your room with his hand in yours. Navigating the small hallway at night lead to him bumping into you twice, and him saying apologies but you could not care less.

Once in your room and switching on the light, he's greeted to your own personal space. He can see canvases with studio projects painted on them under your bed, posters littering your walls. Some local band shows you've attended, a Queen one catching his interest. His eyes also catch your Beatles poster, the one from their White Album. He also sees the pillow he used earlier that day when he was modeling along with the robe tossed into the corner with the rest of your dirty laundry.

"I think I might have a pair of pants you could wear unless you're not a pants to bed kind of guy."

"No pants is what I normally go for but if you're uncomfortable with that I ca-"

"It's fine with me, just no funny business, May."

"Are cuddles out of the equation?"

"I sure as hell hope not."

He smiles and removes his necklaces, placing them next to your sketchbooks on top of the small desk next to the bed. You change into sleep shorts as he takes his trousers off.

Never thought I'd see that twice today.

Shutting off the light and climbing into bed, he goes first, leaving you in your usual spot. Fluffing up the pillows and adjusting the blankets now done, He wraps you in his arms almost immediately, lips kissing your cheek gently.

"You have enough pillows, Bri?"

"Yes. Thank you, love."

"Want me to grab another blanket?"

He laughs gently, kissing your face one last time.

"I'm more than okay."

You turn around to face him head on, able to make out where his eyes are looking. Fingers playing with one curl, eventually leading to caressing the side of his face. Thumb tracing over one of his cheekbones.

"You're so handsome, Bri."

"Ever look at yourself?"

"Do you always kiss ass?"

"Not until the 3rd date."

You slap his arm, laughing.

"I guess with that comment I won't give you a kiss goodnight."

His face contorts in fake hurt. It's wiped off as soon as you bring your lips to his, fingers gently caressing his jaw as you kiss him. Almost as fast as it happened, it stopped. Smiles painting both your faces.

"Goodnight Y/N."

"Goodnight Bri."

Turning back around, you scoot closer to him. Arms around your waist and face tucked near your shoulder, you two fall asleep.

*** You wake up before him. His arms are still wrapped around your middle and your legs entangled with one anothers. Your bladder urging you out of the warm confines of your bed, you carefully move out of his grasp to not awake him. Mission was successful as you close the door behind you, hearing Freddie in the kitchen as you walk to the bathroom. After giving yourself a pep talk while washing you hands, you face your roommate, face giving you a smirk.

"Y/N....I saw his god awful shoes by the door but he wasn't on the couch. Please tell me the details, darling!"

"Nothing really happened, Fred! We ended up talking after you went to bed and he sort of told me he had feelings for me and we passed out on the couch."

"He finally told you? About fucking time! You have no idea how much Roger got on his case. Even Deaky was begging him to shut up and ask you out. 'Oh how is Y/N doing? Is she free sometime soon, Fred? What should I get her for Christmas? What does she like? Do you think she likes me?'....every practice Y/N..every practice."

"At least I finally got around to it, Freddie."

He wrapped his arms around you, voice heavy with sleep.

"Now I get to annoy you about her even more now that we're dating."

Brian kisses your neck as Freddie pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Please don't subject us to that. We've suffered enough, dear."

***

aaaay, it’s done! Tbh, I got the idea for this fic after looking through some of my life drawing sketches. Also, a tip with charcoal or chalk pastel drawings from an art student...use hair spray. It’s cheaper than fixitive spray, works just as well, doesn’t affect the colors in chalk pastels, and doesn’t harm your lungs with the fumes (not nearly as badly, anyway). Besides that, thank you so much for reading, liking, reblogging, etc 💖💖

#queen #queen band #queen fanfiction #brian may imagine #brian may fanfiction #brian may x reader

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joe-mazzello-archive · 4 years

Text

The Bet

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: language, dirty talk, sexual themes, no actual smut but it’s described lol

A/N: HAP BIRTH @brianmays-hair!!! this is my birthday gift to you as if you didn’t know this was coming hehe. thanks for letting me rant about pedro pascal and for being a shady bitch with me and for putting up with my anons. i’m so thankful for your friendship. ily my bridge troll <3

ps: this is my first time writing for queen, so go easy on me gang! also i assumed that this pic was taken before their performance? apologies if that’s incorrect.

You had assumed that one day you’d become used to being married to one of the members of Queen. You would become numb to it, nothing surprising you or throwing you off. The fans, the parties, the tours...the fact that practically everyone in the world knew who your husband was. It would all become routine for you.

But then you went to Live Aid.

The size of the crowd alone shocked you. You knew just based on the lineup for the event and the fact that it was being held in Wembley Stadium that Live Aid was a huge event. But you didn’t realize just how huge.

You had held Brian’s hand tightly as the lot of you were escorted through backstage areas and cramped hallways, weaving through crew members and people with badges who seemed important. As someone who had been along for the ride for quite a few Queen tours, you were somehow extremely overwhelmed. But Brian’s tight grip on your hand, offering comforting squeezes every once in a while kept you grounded.

Eventually, Brian was swept away, needed to answer reporter questions or shake hands with music industry heads. You had just begun to feel a little lost when an arm slid around your shoulder.

“You look positively stressed, love,” Crystal’s voice sounded in your ear, the familiar timbre relaxing you a bit.

“It’s a lot to take in,” you replied, wrapping an arm around his waist for a side hug as the two of you watched the scene before you.

“Well, I’ll keep an eye on you, Mrs. May. Make sure you don’t get swept up in the craziness,” Crystal declared with a nudge to your ribs. You chuckled at the moniker, giving the techie a playful shove.

You knew he meant it. Crystal had somewhat taken you under his wing during your first Queen tour a few years back. Brian, only your boyfriend then, had asked you to join the group on the American leg of the News of the World tour, claiming he couldn’t bear to separated from you for an entire month and a half. Crystal had recognized the lost look in your eyes even back then as you experienced what it was like to go on tour with a rock band. The two of you had struck up an unlikely friendship, keeping each other entertained on bus rides while the boys caught up on much-needed sleep.

An hour later Brian grabbed your hand once again, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss before announcing that him and Roger wanted to go watch some of the performances.

And that’s how you found yourself sitting in the VIP section of the stadium, seated between Brian and Chris. Had you been a few years less experienced, you may have been shocked when David Bowie took the seat next to Chris, offering you and the boys a handshake greeting. But you had had the pleasure of meeting Bowie a few years back.

No, the thing that made your eyes go wide with shock was when you realized that Princess Diana and Prince Charles of Wales were sitting right in front of you. Maybe a yard away.

Crystal noticed your reaction right away, offering a small chuckle and a loving head shake in response. He leaned closer to you, signaling you to do the same.

“I’ve got a bet for you,” he whispered, and you rolled your eyes. Somehow along the way, bets between you and Crystal had become commonplace. The two of you had bet on arguments between the band members, card games between roadies, and to your shame, you once even bet on how long one of Roger’s flings would last.

“Lay it on me, Taylor.”

“I bet you can’t get Brian all hot and bothered in front of Princess Di,” he responded. You let out a quick burst of laughter before clapping a hand on your mouth. Brian shot you a confused look that you returned with a nod towards Crystal. He immediately understood, knowing Crystal’s antics full well, and he turned his attention back to the performance.

“That’s not a bet, that’s just torture!” you argued. “And besides, you know I’d win.”

“Fine, twenty quid if you get him flustered enough to excuse himself.”

“I’m not doing that!”

“But it’ll be fun!”

He had a point. You did get a bit of satisfaction from reducing Brian to a needy mess. But you usually only pulled the trick of out of your pocket if he hadn’t been giving you enough attention lately.

But the more you thought about it, the more excited the prospect of a needy Brian made you. Get him all riled up and then have a quick and dirty fuck backstage before he performed for thousands of people? The idea was definitely intriguing.

“Fifty quid,” you countered, the gears in your head already turning. That earned you another chuckle from Crystal before he held a hand out to you.

“Deal.” The two of you sealed the exchange with a quick handshake.

Then you got to work.

An innocent smile on your face, you turned to Brian, tapping him gently on the shoulder to get his attention before leaning in close to his ear.

“Briii,” you murmured, laying a hand on his knee. He smiled at your show of affection, but his focus remained on the stage before him. “You know what I’m thinking about?” He hummed questioningly, still not giving you his full attention. “I’m thinking about the Hot Space tour.”

You let your statement simmer and you watched Brian’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as he tried to work out what you were referring to.

“Remember that time you were in a mood, and during one of Roger’s drum solos I pulled you into a closet and went down on you?” You slightly shifted your hand an inch higher on Brian’s thigh as you felt him tense next to you. But his eyes didn’t stray from the concert being performed. So you continued.

“And then after the show as a thank you, you took me back the hotel and absolutely destroyed me with your tongue?” An inch higher. You heard him let out a shaky breath before leaning closer to you.

“Darling, what are you doing?”

“I was so wet for you that night. You make me so wet, Bri,” you practically purred into his ear. Another inch higher; you were almost mid-thigh. You began to caress the fabric of his slacks with your thumb, tracing small circles. Brian shifted in his seat slightly, but the man was determined to watch the performers.

“If only Roger had a long drum solo in your set later tonight,” you continued. “We could recreate that. Licking every inch of you before I take you into my mouth completely. Maybe even let you take control. Let you fuck my mouth.” Another inch. You could see Brian was sweating now, and you knew it had nothing to do with the weather. Your eyes flicked over to Crystal, who was watching the band’s performance with a knowing smirk.

“Or maybe instead you can just fuck me. Push me up against the wall, wrap my legs around you can let you plow me until I’m a whimpering mess,” you whispered, slurring your words slightly. Brian’s cheeks were beet-red. “You always make me come so hard.” You shifted your hand another inch higher, but this time Brian’s long fingers wrapped around your wrist. And for the first time since you began your game, he turned to look at you.

“Love,” he whimpered, almost desperately. You fluttered your eyelashes innocently, a soft smile on your face.

“Yes, dear?”

His eyes flashed downward briefly, and you followed his glance. A prominent bulge had formed in his trousers. You gazed back up at Brian, your guiltless grin fading into a knowing smirk.

“Would you like some help with that, Bri?”

In a flash, Brian got to his feet, practically yanking you with him. You knew he was probably thankful he had elected to wear loose-fitting pants that day.

“We’re going to grab something to eat,” he announced, his voice a bit shaky. Roger’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at the tall man standing next to him.

“We just ate like an hour ago,” he revealed. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well, I’m hungry again,” Brian snapped back quickly. I’m sure you are, you thought to yourself. Brian’s hand landed on the small of your back, urging you to start sliding past the seated audience members.

As you scooted past Crystal, he discreetly whipped out a fifty-pound note and held it out for you with a grin. You pocketed it and kept moving, past David Bowie and the other crowd members. Once the two of you finally made it to the aisle, Brian gripped your hand tight, pulling you along as he sped towards a bathroom. You could barely keep up; Brian’s long legs giving him an advantage.

“So, you’re hungry, huh, Bri?” you teased as you picked up the pace to walk in-line with him. Then in one swift movement, you were pulled through a doorway and spun around, your back pressing into the door to close it.

“I think you know exactly what I’m hungry for, you little minx.”

✧✧✧

Perm Taglist: @queenlover05 @mrhoemazzello @madamsledge @sadhwstudent @johndeaconshands @stardust-galaxies @im-an-adult-ish

#brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x you #live aid #crystal taylor #brian may fic #brian may fanfic #brian may fanfiction

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 7: Forget Everything You Know]

Hi y’all! I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all so much for reading and for showing me and my fics some love. You better believe that I see EVERY. SINGLE. reblog, comment, tag, and message, and they mean the absolute world to me! I know that a lot of content creators are frustrated and taking breaks right now, but rest assured you will not be able to get rid of me if even a SINGLE person looks forward to something I write. I’ll finish this fic (eventually), and I’ll finish the next one too (it already has a name!), and I won’t disappear or leave the Queen/BoRhap fandom at any point in the foreseeable future. Lots of love to you all, stay safe, and I hope you enjoy! 💜 💜 💜

Chapter summary: Y/N brings home some friends; Brian attempts an intervention; John draws a line; Roger gets an answer.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @bookandband @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“Smile, everyone!” Your dad peeks through the viewfinder of the Canon F-1 and beams. “One...two...three...say Queen!”

“Queen!” you all shout gleefully. The flash illuminates the dining room, and you blink away momentary blindness. The table materializes back into vision: lobsters, clams, haddock chowder, sourdough bread, fried oysters, pierogis with Vermont cheddar cheese, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes...and, of course, Boston cream pie for dessert.

“Ah, perfection,” your dad sighs contently. “Please continue, Mr. Mercury.”

“Mr. Mercury!” Brian whines, incredulous. “Like he’s got a bloody PhD or something!”

Freddie cracks a lobster claw. He hasn’t taken his sunglasses or wrist-full of clanging bangles off all afternoon. Your parents are profoundly confused by him, but welcoming nonetheless. “I’m a professor of lusciousness. Pay attention and you could learn something.”

Brian rolls his eyes and dunks a hunk of sourdough bread into his chowder.

“So,” Freddie tells your mother between bites of lobster dripping with drawn butter. “Our darling damsel in distress was in the clutches of that horrid, dodgy wanker when none other than our very own Roger Meddows Taylor—”

“You weren’t even there!” Brian protests. “I wasn’t even there! This is, what, a third-hand account?!”

“Eat your soup, peasant. Thank you. Anyway, our beloved Roger comes raging out of nowhere, red-faced, nostrils flaring, a terrifying sight to behold, grabs this guy by his hair and slams his despicable face directly into a marble column. Broken nose, cracked orbital socket, blood everywhere! It was magnificent. I’ve never been more proud.”

“Good for you!” your mother cheers, patting the back of Roger’s hand encouragingly. He smiles at her, warmly, radiantly, like the wildfire he’s always reminded you of. And you marvel at how every human on this earth is made of the same fundamental components—blood and muscles and vessels and nerves, hearts and enigmatic brain matter and ribs, vulnerable parts, armored parts, all webbed together like nature’s own organic circuit board—and yet the marks they leave on you can feel so different: burns, scars, bruises, shadows, imprints that are deep enough to brush bone and never fade.

“Mom, the guy could have died!”

“Did he?” she asks innocently.

“Nope,” Roger says.

“Well then, Mr. Taylor here is a hero in my book.”

“Mr. Taylor!” Brian groans.

“I was petrified he would turn out to be the son of an executive or producer or something and the band would be ruined,” you say. “Fortunately he was just someone’s annoying frat brother from college who already had a reputation for being a sleazebag. So, we were in luck.”

“You were in luck that Mr. Taylor was there,” your mother points out, gazing at him dreamily. This delightful English boy is going to be my son-in-law and give me gorgeous, doe-eyed grandchildren, that look says.

“Yes, a literal superhero,” John says ruefully, sipping a Manhattan. Your dad has a passionate love for mixing cocktails, especially for guests who also happen to be rock stars.

“Mom. Don’t make his ego any bigger, please. I’m begging you.”

Roger snarls around a mouthful of Boston cream pie, sending your mom into a fit of giggles.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, dear.” She smooths your hair. “And that you have people to keep you safe all the way over there across the ocean, and that you’re happy.”

“Yes, your work environment is much improved, isn’t it?” Brian says. “That supervisor you had at the hospital was an absolute bear!”

Your dad strokes his short grey beard. “Well...” he admits. “That may have been my fault.”

Brian’s brow crinkles. “Really?”

Your mom turns to you. “You didn’t tell them?!”

“Oh, is there a scandalous backstory?” Freddie inquires, elated. “Do tell, darling!”

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far far away—just kidding, it was here in Boston—my archnemesis Patricia and my dad dated.”

Roger drops his fork, appalled. “No!”

Freddie’s nose wrinkles in revulsion. “Why?!”

Your dad rocks back in his chair and laughs loudly, heartily. “She wasn’t always so cantankerous, if you can believe it. She was a sweet girl, wonderful even. But then I met my future wife, and...” He smirks guiltily. “What can I say? The heart wants what it wants!”

You nod along. “And I got the illustrious honor of being an outlet for the frustration stemming from Patricia’s lifelong unrequited love.”

“You saucy minx!” Freddie playfully lashes your mom’s shoulder with a cloth napkin. “Homewrecker!”

She chuckles, not the least bit offended. “People get together under all sorts of strange circumstances, and you know what? You can’t wreck a home if the home wasn’t already half-wrecked before you got there, that’s what I think.”

Roger raises his Patriot’s Punch. “I’ll drink to that.”

Brian clutches his New England Express, bewildered. “Are we...toasting to infidelity?”

“Oh, does that horrify you?” Rog asks sarcastically. Brian grimaces, but dutifully raises his glass.

“We’re toasting to love,” your dad clarifies. “However it comes, as long as it’s true.”

John holds his Manhattan aloft. “To love.”

Freddie clinks his Flying Elvis against the other beverages, including your parents’ wine glasses and your Cranberry Crush. “Cheers!” Then Fred glances at the clock and swiftly polishes off his slice of Boston cream pie.

“Can’t you all stay a little longer?” your mom pleads, collecting plates and gazing longingly at Roger. “This has been so much fun...”

“They have soundcheck at seven, Mom. We have to leave for the stadium soon.”

“Well, before you jet off to your next adventure, can I treat anyone to a long distance call?” your dad asks.

Brian perks up. “Really?!” You know there’s a ring in the future for Chrissie; not an expensive or extravagant ring (not that Chris would want that anyway), but a ring nonetheless. You know because Brian has taken you shopping to help him choose one.

“Of course! You can use the phone in my office. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. I’m sure there are some lovely ladies back in jolly old England who would be over the moon to hear from you.”

“That would be very much appreciated!” Brian says. “And thank you so much, this has been such a treat, you have no idea how long it’s been since we had a proper homemade meal.”

“I had to rehabilitate the reputation of us Yankees, didn’t I? Now come on, Mr. May, I’ll show you to the office...”

“Mr. May...I like the sound of that!”

“Ten minutes, Bri!” Freddie calls, following them down the hallway. “Then it’s my turn...!”

You begin gathering up the empty glasses, but Roger promptly snatches them away. “No way, Boston babe. You go relax. I’ll help your mom.”

“I think she’s in love with you.”

He grins. “Do you have a secret stepdaddy fetish I could exploit?”

“Oh my god. Roger.”

He snickers and sweeps off into the kitchen. It’s only then that you realize John has disappeared. You check the kitchen, the living room, the hallway, the study, and finally the front porch; John is standing outside in the cold, smoking and watching the setting sun. The sky is threaded with cerulean, rust orange, lavender, indigo. You pull on your coat and go out to join him.

“We’ll make it to Florence one of these days,” you promise John, resting your arms on the wooden, white-painted porch railing. Your mother hung baskets of fresh flowers for the band’s visit, which swing lazily in the breeze. “Crank out a few more hits and we’ll get the record company to add it to the tour itinerary.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“Are you going to call Veronica?”

He shrugs, frowns, exhales a lungful of smoke into frigid New England air. “I don’t know if I should.”

“You don’t think she’d like that?” you ask, confounded.

“I think she might like it too much.”

“Ohhhhh.” You read his soft greyish eyes, which are faraway and somber, sad even. “I’m sorry, John. You know she’s wild about you.”

“I know it.” He takes a drag off his cigarette. “She’s the first person who ever was, actually. The first person who ever noticed me. Came up to me out of the blue at a disco and asked me to dance, me! So I said yes, like you do when you’re the guy nobody notices. And then I said yes again, and again, and again, until one day I realized...oh, this girl thinks we’re getting married. When the hell did that happen?”

“I noticed you,” you contest.

John chuckles and nods. “You did,” he agrees. “Right away. Tried to win me over when I was too nervous to finish a sentence around you. But that was long after I’d met Veronica.”

“Well, you can’t break up with her tonight. On Valentine’s Day?! That would be traumatic.”

“Agreed.”

“We’ll have a few days in London between the American and Asian legs of the tour. You can think it over and decide what to do then. I’m happy to arrange the getaway taxi if that’s something that interests you.”

“Yeah.” Again, he peers out into the Western horizon, into rising stars.

“John?”

Now he looks to you. He’s a little too thoughtful, too low. There’s something you’re not seeing.

“...Is there somebody else?”

He doesn’t speak; he just stares at you with those velvety azure-grey eyes, drums his fingers against the railing, lets the ash from his cigarette crumble into the snow-dusted Blue Pacific Junipers.

Roger barrels through the front door and out onto the porch. “There you are, Deaks! I thought we were going to have to find a new bassist. Enlist Nurse Nightingale’s mum or something.”

John smirks and crushes the rest of his cigarette in your father’s ashtray. “I suspect you’d do just fine without me.”

“Oh no. No way. Not happening.”

“That’s kind of you,” John says, unconvinced.

“Here, I’ll prove it.” Rog holds out his calloused hand. “If you ever leave, I leave too. Come on, Deaks, shake on it. It’s official. It’s a pact. There’s no Queen without John Deacon.”

Reluctantly, trying not to show how pleased he is, John shakes. “Alright.”

Roger grins triumphantly. “Signed, sealed, delivered. You’re ours for life, baby.”

“Deaky, do you want the phone?!” Freddie yells from inside the house.

John sighs and exchanges a knowing glance with you. “I guess I should say hi.”

“Okay, but quickly!” Rog presses. “We gotta go!”

“So bossy...” John ducks inside; and Roger, though he’s not wearing anything over his pale pink button-up shirt—sufficiently sophisticated to impress your parents—comes to the porch railing to join you.

“You’re not staying out here, are you?” You eye his thin shirt worriedly, the goosebumps rising over his collarbones, his bare forearms where he rolled up his sleeves to help your mom wash the dishes.

He tosses you a mischievous wink. “I’ve got no one to call.”

Roger looks up at the hanging baskets of flowers, plucks out a cerise carnation, and offers it to you. You mean to say something witty, something sardonic, something that will make him laugh; but all your words vanish into cold February air. You take the carnation, smiling helplessly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Roger whispers.

You just let me know if you ever change your mind, okay?

Okay.

He turns to go back inside the house.

I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him.

Then Roger pauses in the doorway. “You coming, Boston babe? I can’t have you catching pneumonia or something. I won’t know how to fix you.”

Oh, you realize, with horror and yet relief, all those grueling lies stripped away. It’s too late.

~~~~~~~~~~

You knock on the frame of the dressing room door. “Hi Bri!”

He glances over from where he sits in front of the mirror, rimming his eyes with inky liner. Soundcheck went swimmingly, and now Queen has thirty minutes until they need to be onstage. You can hear the disembodied reverberation of voices from the waiting crowd through the walls. “Hello, love. Come in.”

“Freddie said you needed to see me. Did you rip a sleeve or something? I brought my kit—”

“No, it’s not that.” He pats the chair beside him. The boys practically always get ready together before a show, but you suspect profoundly introverted Brian is experiencing one of his post-socialization crashes after dinner with your parents. Something about him is tired, very tired, almost drained to empty. “Join me.”

“Sure,” you say cautiously. You shove your medical kit onto the countertop and then reach to feel his forehead. “Are you feeling alright...?”

“I’m fine, love. I just have a favor to ask.”

“Anything.”

Brian sighs deeply, sets down the eyeliner, swivels his chair towards you. “I need you to promise me that you’re not going to start seeing Roger.”

You titter, deflecting, brushing Brian’s hair away from his troubled, angular face. “Well, as the official Queen touring nurse, I see him quite a lot.”

Brian catches your wrist. “I’m being serious.”

Now your brow knits into tight agitated lines. “I’m curious as to why you think that’s something you have a say in.”

“Bloody hell, I’m not trying to offend you—”

“Job well done.”

“Dear, please, listen to me—”

“Eight months,” you hiss through your teeth as you tear away from him. “For eight months I’ve listened and avoided and resisted and ignored and it’s not going away.”

“Oh, fuck,” Brian breathes in despair. “You love him.”

There are tears biting in the periphery of your vision; you don’t want them to be there, but they are. Your voice is hoarse and trembling. “Bri, please don’t.”

Brian shakes his head and motions with his hands frenetically, desperately, trying to make you understand. “Look, sometimes...sometimes the people we love, the people who own us, the people who fucking set us on fire...they’re not the people we end up with. And that’s not always a bad thing. It’s necessary. It’s self-preservation. Because sometimes the people who set us on fire would burn us alive.”

You gape at him, furious, stunned. “That’s just fantastic, Brian. You’re a true romantic. Jesus christ, does Chrissie know about this? Is that why you’re with her, because she’s, what...safe?!”

“No, that’s not fair, Chrissie’s great, she’s steady and supportive and she’ll make a wonderful mother one day, and my parents adore her—”

“Those aren’t reasons to marry someone, Brian!”

“They are!” He leaps to his feet. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! You have to think about these things, you have to be rational, you have to protect yourself—”

“Why the fuck do you care?” you flare bitterly.

“Because you saved my life.”

“Stop it, I didn’t.”

“You did, I truly believe that. And I want you to stay with the band. And I want you to be happy. But, dear, please, I’m begging you...this is not the way to do it.”

“I’m not going to go out to some pub and drag home a random guy who’s suitably passionless and predictable enough to be Brian-May-approved.”

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do—”

“Because you’re such an expert on relationships!” you shout, exasperated. “Planning to propose to Chris while you’re still secretly pining over some fling from New Orleans, fucking groupies and then having the nerve to mope around guilt-ridden the next morning as if anyone but you was responsible for that decision, and do I say anything about it?! Do I ever say a single fucking word about it to you, or Fred, or Roger, or your future wife, or anybody?! No, because it’s not my life!”

The dressing room door flies open and John storms inside. “What’s going on?!”

You cross your arms and stare at the floor. Brian’s wide green eyes flick to John, to you, back to John. If it was Freddie, Brian would tell him in a second, would try to enlist him in the effort, and it would probably work; but John is a different story. John won’t side with Brian over you, everybody knows that. And John has a talent for sharpening words into blades. “Um. Nothing.”

“I could hear you in the hallway,” John says flatly. “Obviously it wasn’t nothing.”

Brian points to you. “Have you tried to talk her out of this? Maybe you should, maybe she’d listen.”

“It’s not my choice to make, just like it isn’t yours. Worry about your own body count. It seems to be growing exponentially these days.”

Brian scoffs. “Because you’d be so thrilled if she ended up with him, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” you demand.

Brian and John glare at each other from across the room. John raises his eyebrows, daring Bri to answer. Brian gnaws his lower lip, but doesn’t elaborate. The air is heavy, tense, electrified.

“Don’t upset her again,” John says darkly.

Brian shows the white palms of his hands in surrender. “Fine.”

John waves for you to follow him. “Come on.” And he slams the door behind you as you both escape into the hallway.

“I’m sorry.” You chase away stray tears with the back of your hands. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get anyone worked up right before the show...”

“Don’t worry about it. I treasure any excuse to harass Brian.”

You study him, seeking answers, seeking more than you know how to put into words. “Do you think I’m being stupid? If you do, you can tell me.”

“No,” John responds carefully. “I think you’re being hopeful. And I’d like to believe that stupidity and hopefulness are two very different things.”

You smile. “I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s very inaccurate.” He fluffs his hair with his fingertips. “Do you want to touch it before we go on stage?”

You feign demureness. “Hmm...”

“Oh come on. You know you want to. It’s extra voluminous right now, Roger shared some of his magical mousse or whatever. Something way too expensive. You should thoroughly berate him for it.”

You laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.” You comb your hands through his brunette hair, and John’s right; it’s extraordinarily full and soft, and smells like honeysuckles. “You always know how to get me smiling, don’t you?”

“You do insist that I have game. Though I remain skeptical.”

“Good luck tonight. Not that you need it.”

John’s rough thumb lifts your chin, then whisks away a tear you missed. “You’ll be watching, right?”

“I always am.” And that’s the truth; you haven’t missed a Queen show since you met them.

He beams, those gentle grey eyes incandescent. “Then we’ll have an ocean of luck.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Exactly twenty-four hours later, Queen is in New York City.

The thunderous bassline of the opening act shudders through the concrete walls. You’re staring yourself down in the bathroom mirror under harsh florescent lights, your palms gripping the cold rim of a white sink, your eyes shimmering with black and gold shadow, your lip gloss slick and crimson. There’s not a single thing left to do. You’re running out of time.

You breathe in, breathe out, snatch your purse off the floor, breeze out into the hallway.

You can hear the boys’ laughter even before you open the dressing room door. Inside, Brian is tuning his Red Special with his mantis-like legs propped up on the countertop, John is attempting to teach Freddie how to make popcorn in a microwave without setting anything on fire, Roger is scrutinizing his hair in the mirror and frowning as he rearranges it with a comb.

“Hello, darling!” Freddie warbles. “Can I interest you in some delicious and expertly-prepared popcorn?” He opens the microwave, and smoke pours out. “Oh, you bitch!”

“I’ll pass, Freddie.” You glide to where Roger is sitting, knot your fingers through his blond hair, and tug his head back so you can kiss him. He tastes like mint gum and the ghost of smoke and reckless intemperance; he tastes like everything you’ve ever wanted. There are gasps, and surely dropped jaws as well; but you don’t have eyes for them. “Okay,” you tell Roger.

He stares up at you with huge, starry eyes, a dazed grin slowly lighting up his face. “You changed your mind.”

“Come find me after the show.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You move to wipe your blood-red gloss from his lips, but Roger stops you, knits his hand through yours, stands to meet you.

“Leave it,” he murmurs. “I want them to know.”

“Want them to know...?”

His lips touch yours again, smiling and scorching and ravenous. “That I’m yours.”

#roger taylor fic #roger taylor x reader #but you can never leave fic #but you can never leave #but you can never leave series #queen fic

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izzy-b-hands · 4 years

Text

Headlong Through The Years

Inspired by that wonderful moment in the Headlong music video (or behind the scenes, my currently not feeling well mind may be failing me lol) when Freddie tossed a CD at Brian who wasn’t expecting it (and still caught it but Freddie very adorably acted like he nearly took Brian’s head off.)

Basically the idea that this is a running theme, and that ever since the start they’ve been doing this: Freddie enthusiastically tossing something to Brian thinking he’s ready to catch it, Brian with his brain off in another world (see what I did there lmao sorry) but with decent hand-eye coordination and reflexes to save him.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

1975

“I thought you were going to catch it!”

“It’s okay; I mostly did,” Brian giggled, an arm outstretched, Freddie’s mic and the upper section of the stand just barely caught in his fingers. “Your mic is safe!”

“I’m not worried about that,” Freddie sighed. “It nearly hit your face; I’m worried about you!”

“Aw, he’s alright,” Roger smiled, and walked over to pluck the mic and stand from Brian’s hand. “Look at him; not a scuff on that pretty face!”

Brian blushed. “I don’t know about that, but I am fine. Trust me, if you’d really nailed me with that, you’d know it.”

“He’d have thrown it back, in other words,” John smirked. “You were looking right at Fred, where were you, Brian?”

Brian shrugged. “Thinking.”

“About what?”

“Can’t a man just think?” Brian scoffed.

“Dangerous line of questioning you’re leading us into there,” Roger laughed. “Might have to think about that. Thinking about thoughts, might end up-”

“Overwrought?” John suggested.

“I was gonna say talking out of our asses, but sure, that too,” Roger replied. “Maybe call out a warning next time, Freddie.”

“I will be,” Freddie said. “Can’t take out our guitarist!”

---

1977

“Got it!”

“I told you I was tossing it over!” Freddie stressed, staring at Brian.

Who was leaned back, arms pressed into his chest, to catch one of the master tapes that Freddie had, in fact, called out that he was throwing gently to Brian.

“Didn’t you hear him?” John laughed. “Here, let me take it.”

“Least I didn’t drop it,” Brian grinned.

“Yeah, but you used up all your athletic ability for the year,” Roger teased. “No one throw him anything else!”

“As if you could talk,” Brian teased back. “Could you have saved that tape from a near demise, being smashed to the floor?”

“I mean, probably,” Roger replied. “I heard Freddie yell ‘catch this’, so I would have...caught it.”

“I did catch it!”

“Barely,” John said. “Again, off in the stars, somewhere far away...”

“I was thinking of what I want to eat, since we skipped lunch to record more, actually,” Brian said briskly.

“Okay, off in the stars of a takeaway bag, somewhere in the depths of a sandwich...” John amended.

“Are you okay?” Freddie asked, pointedly ignoring the ribbing from the other two.

“I’m okay,” Brian smiled. “You can’t take me out that easily, Mercury. Keep trying.”

“Don’t even joke; I feel terrible,” Freddie sighed. “I should just hand things to you from now on, for safety’s sake.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun and danger in that?” Roger offered. “It’s good for his coordination anyway, keep it up.”

---

1982

“Now I really did barely throw that,” Freddie sighed, marching over to help untwine Brian’s hair from the headstock of the guitar. “And you looked at me! You met my eyes!”

“Still caught it,” Brian said weakly, wincing as Freddie untangled his curls from under the strings. “Just didn’t catch it very well, but that’s alright.”

“And it’s not his old lady, so he doesn’t really care that he nearly didn’t catch it at all,” Roger smirked. “That is the implication, isn’t it Brian?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Brian replied, but glanced over to Freddie worriedly.

“Oh, I would never so much as think to roughly handle her, let alone throw her,” Freddie murmured, fighting with Brian’s hair still. “How did you do this? It’s like they’re attracted to it or something.”

“He’s just that good,” John joked. “Next, he’ll become the guitar.”

Brian looked at the model in his hand, and winced. “Can I hold a different one, if that’s to happen? I don’t mean to be picky-”

“Ah, but you are!” Roger interrupted. “Let me help; we can’t leave him like that.”

“Could I suggest you stop tossing him things?” John asked Freddie as he watched him and Roger work. “We are getting older you know, reflexes going...”

“I’m thirty-five!” Brian spat.

“I’ll buy you a cane for your next birthday,” John said. “Thank you for the reminder.”

“Aside from that, he makes a good point,” Freddie said. “Obviously, we don’t have good luck with this, and one of these times you’re going to miss catching something expensive, or I’ll hurt you by tossing something I really probably should hand to you instead.”

“Poor old men,” Roger sighed dramatically, only to dodge away as the headstock swung his way. “Careful with that, Bri! No need to get me more into this mess.”

“Your eyes must be going if you didn’t see it coming, old man,” Brian muttered.

“Both of you stop that,” Freddie instructed. “It’s not helping things.”

“We aren’t cutting my hair to get me out of this,” Brian mumbled.

“Just...don’t move, and we’ll see,” Freddie sighed.

---

1986

“Okay, that one was my fault,” Roger winced. “Good show, you two.”

The set of cymbals weren’t overly heavy, but they were awkward. And, as discovered, while airborne and tumbling into arms, had a bit of bounce. In this case, right out of Freddie’s arms as he had dived for them, and into Brian’s.

“What were you doing?” Freddie asked with a scoff. “What was the game plan?”

“To move them!” Roger protested. “Gently, but they slipped! They can be slippery!”

“Don’t blame the cymbals for your short-comings,” John tsked dramatically. “You can’t keep doing that, Rog. You blame them for this, what’ll it be next?”

“You’re hilarious,” Roger replied dryly. “Sorry, again...”

“Least it wasn’t all on Fred this time,” Brian smiled, and carefully handed the cymbals to Roger. “A team effort now, to test my reflexes! Should we start scheduling this yearly? I can tell my doctor, send the results to him, very official.”

“I did try to keep them with me,” Freddie said. “Didn’t work, but I tried.”

“I’m teasing,” Brian chuckled. “Honestly! You lot acting like you nearly ran me over or something. Was only cymbals; all is well!”

“Suppose you’re right,” Roger sighed. “Still, I am sorry.”

“If it will help, apology accepted,” Brian smiled. “You two work on your aim for next year, really make it a challenge.”

“I ought to get in on this,” John mused. “Don’t want to be left out, after all.”

“I think the peanuts you toss during my solos are quite enough,” Brian said.

“What, me? I would never,” John grinned. “How long are you finding those in your hair after a show? Be honest!”

“Maybe I should start throwing them back as I find them,” Brian playfully sneered. “And you can get in on trying to catch things you’re only half-expecting to ever need to catch!”

“If you’re going to throw those at anyone, should be Freddie,” John protested. “He’s thrown far more things at you than I have.”

“Yeah, but he’s never done it during a show!”

“Well, there’s something for next year then,” John laughed. “Taking notes, Fred?”

---

1990

“Still trying to take me out, eh Fred?” Brian grasped the CD in his hands, up near his face. “Nice try, but you’re going to have to keep at it.”

“I didn’t think-” Freddie started, then smiled. “Alright. I’ll keep trying. Any suggestions for what I toss at you next?”

“Whatever you like,” Brian laughed. “I’m relying on this now, you know. It’s the only thing keeping my reflexes up!”

“And he’s even older, so you know they’ll be going soon,” John mused. “Still need to get you that cane...”

“All the better to trip you with,” Brian smirked.

“I’d like to see you try,” John smiled. “Ah, there it is! Freddie can trip me, and we’ll see if you catch me. That’s the logical level up, for next year.”

“No one is tripping anyone,” Freddie said. “Besides, you lot aren’t going to be needing things like that for years yet, don’t be so silly.”

“You don’t know that,” Roger said. “Might be us stumbling round, trying to keep our feet under us, and you running circles around us on stage.”

“Sure,” Freddie shook his head and laughed. “And I’ll put on the leotards again too!”

“You know there are fans who would be delighted to see that, don’t tease something you won’t do,” Brian scolded playfully. “But I think Roger might be right. We’ll be shuffling along, and you’ll bounce out like you always have; we’ll slow you down!”

“Oh shut up,” Freddie joked. “Why don’t we take it day by day and see from there? Maybe we’ll all be too old and tired; four queens finally retired from the stage.”

“We’ll see,” Brian smiled softly.

“Yeah,” Roger added. “Day by day sounds fine to me.”

“I agree with the wait and see,” John said. “Though Brian’s track record with seeing isn’t so strong, so as long as the coming days don’t physically toss themselves at him, we should be fine.”

“I could toss you,” Brian suggested sarcastically.

“Do what you like; Freddie will catch me,” John responded assuredly.

Roger nodded, but his eyes were on Freddie. “Yeah. That’s our Fred, always here to catch us.”

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic

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mxflo · 4 years

Text

Wings Of Fate - Part 22

The cold winter air bit at Changkyun’s exposed skin as he walked through the parking lot, carrying the bottle of Hennessy he just bought. He knew you would be getting home from work soon so he needed to make it up to his apartment so that you wouldn’t be aware of him still making sure you were safe. Waiting on the elevator he hears someone call out to him. Their words slurred and thick with aggression. Turning around Changkyun’s blood begins to boil instantly. Setting the bottle down watching Nate walking up to him.

“You’re the fucker who took her from me!” Nate challenges Changkyun.

“Nathaniel, leave now.” Changkyun warns. “I will hurt you worse than last time if you threaten her in anyway.”

“Then I’ll just have to take care of you first.” Nate smiles as he cocks his head to the side. “Where is she by the way? Why aren’t you with her as her bodyguard like before? Unless, she isn’t with you anymore?”

Changkyun without even thinking twice swings at Nate, his fist slamming into Nate’s jaw. Nate stumbles sideways, spitting blood from his mouth before looking back at Changkyun with a devilish smile. “Now that’s no way to greet someone.”

Changkyun grabs Nate by his shirt, slamming him against the wall. “You will regret coming back here.” Changkyun growls. “You will be sorry you ever hurt her.” Anger was better than the tears, grief, and guilt he had been feeling all these months. Letting the anger drown out the emotions that had been dragging him down for the last few months gave him a serge of energy and power he didn’t realize he had within. Wrath was tempting him, welcoming him with arms wide open, ready to embrace him fully.

“I understand more than anyone why you would be still be drawn to her, I can’t blame you.” Nate laughs. “As frustrating as she is, with that mouth and attitude of hers, that body of hers is addicting isn’t it?”

Changkyun’s vision goes red as rage builds up internally. Unable to hold back he lets the power of wrath take over him, unleashing it onto Nate, hit by hit. Falling to the ground, he curls up, unable to fight back against Changkyun’s overwhelming power. The sound of bones breaking from the force of Changkyun’s hits, Nate tries to scream out in pain but no sound escapes him. Looking up at Changkyun in fear through two swollen black eyes, Nate notices the change in Changkyun before his very eyes. “What are you, some kind of demon?” He whispers weakly.

Changkyun chuckles admiring the mangled body laying at his feet. “You could say that.” Nate’s eyes close as his body shuts down from the trauma.

“Changkyun?! What the fuck? What happened?” You yell towards him as you run over. He hadn’t notice you pull into the parking garage, and when he heard your voice his head snapped in your direction. Your heart racing, fearful of what was going on but unable to stop yourself you run up to the body laying on the ground. Your hands shaking as you see Nate laying there unconscious. “Oh my god, what the hell did you do?” You snap. “Fuck, he is alive?”

“He’s alive.” Changkyun says with an unsettling calmness. “He was coming back for you. I had to stop him.”

“You didn’t have to do this to him!” You yell. “We have to call an ambulance.” You pull out your phone.

“You still love him?”

“Are you serious right now? No!” You look at Changkyun, eyes meeting his for the first time. You stop suddenly, seeing the change in him clearly. “Changkyun, what...”

“In every angel, a demon hides, babe.” Changkyun winks.

“Demon?” You whisper.

Changkyun takes your phone from your hand, calls for an ambulance Nate, telling them that the body was found, but he’s unconscious but alive, but he was breaking his restraining order by being this close to your apartment. Silently you look over Changkyun’s features, his once jet black hair, now dark ash grey. His once deep brown eyes now seem to be a piercing black with a coldness behind them that you never saw before. His face was thinner, showing off the sharp angle of his jaw line.

He hangs up the phone, handing it back to you before grabbing his bottle of Hennessy that sat by the elevator. “Come on.” He holds out his hand.

You take his hand and follow him to the elevator. “Don’t we need to stay here with him? You ask looking back at Nate’s still body.

“No. I told them I was going to check on you.” He smiles, knowing you hadn’t heard that part of the phone call because you were checking him out.

Following him into the elevator, you make sure to stand away from him as much as possible in the small space. He laughs noticing the distance you put between you two before he steps towards you, quickly reducing the space. Your back pressed against the wall, unable to go anywhere you sigh and look up, meeting his gaze.

“Do you miss me?” He asks, with a smirk.

“No.” You reply, hoping he doesn’t see through your lie as you try to stop your true feelings from satisfying his cruel curiosity.

“I miss you.” His deep voice rumbles as the back of his finger drags along your throat where he used to bite. “I miss the feel of your soft skin against my lips. I miss hearing my name as you moan. The memories of you are the worst form of torture. I would ask you if I could kiss you once more, but...” You close your eyes, and swallow, trying to ignore the intense sensation his touch is sparking within. Your body craved him in way you didn’t know possible.

“Ch-changkyun...” You stammer.

“The only problem is,” he said as he leaned in, his lips hovering over yours, “if I kissed you, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

You stay still, breathing becoming harder as you fight the temptation to close the rest of the distance between your lips. Then suddenly he steps back, leaving you dizzy. The elevator dings and the doors open. He smiles a devilish grin as he watches your chest rise and fall from your erratic breathing.

You both walk down the hallway in silence, but when you reach your door he stops in front of you. “I may be full of this darkness now, but Babe, know that I won’t abandon you. Even the devil keeps his promises. You will remain safe as long as I’m here.”

Before you could respond he turns and goes into his apartment, the door locking as it closes behind him. You take a deep breath as you enter your apartment, your mind swirling with everything that just happened.

**************************************************************************

A week had passed since you found Changkyun hovering over Nate’s body. Nate was now locked up again, but this time with several fractured ribs, a broken nose, missing teeth, and a fractured jaw. He had a concussion which he was hospitalized for, and once cleared the was immediately taken into custody for breaking the restraining order that Changkyun had set up for you.

“I didn’t hear a peep from him for months, but now ever since he beat Nate into a pulp, really loud music is always coming from his apartment at all hours of the day and into the night.” You ranted to Bri on the phone as you finished tidying your apartment. “I call the manger of the building and nothing happens. He’s doing this on purpose.”

“You are an adult. Go knock on his door and tell him the music is too loud.” She laughs.

“No way. That’s what he wants. I wish he would just practically vanish again.” You whined.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do!” You argue.

“No you don’t. All you do is complain about him now. His music is to loud, when before when you heard it you just mentioned how he had good taste in music, he parks to close to your car now, you are finding things to be upset with him over. You find any excuse to talk about him. I really think you should accept that you love the man and those feelings are now stronger than whatever it was that kept you away from him. So either go knock on his door and make up for all the wasted nights alone, or come out with me tonight and try to move on from him.”

“I do not love him.” You roll your eyes, not wanting to talk about this.

“Like I said, you either come out with me tonight or I’m forcing you to accept that you do love him. I don’t know what all happened between you two, but he took a knife to the arm for you, and yet you two just won’t work out?”

Bri knew you were hiding something from her, but you couldn’t tell her that the reason you and him wouldn’t work out was because he was an angel? ...demon? ..whatever he was, he wasn’t human. Maybe you did love him, maybe you did miss him, but you couldn’t be with him. It wasn’t right. Was it?

“Fine. I’ll go out. Pick me up in two hours?” You give in.

“Perfect!!! I’ll see you then!” Bri squealed, just excited that you actually agreed to go out, even if it was just to get her off the subject of Changkyun and the way you felt about him.

#changkyun #changkyun au #monsta x au #Monsta X

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calpalirwin · 5 years

Text

Photographs and Tattoos

Summary: Maxine “Max” Green was never the girl to pass up a challenge, and she may have just met her match in the form of sullen drummer boy, Ashton Irwin.

A/N: Slow burn relationships are utter perfection and I am too soft of a writer to have the patience to write them. But, I tried. And I had fun doing it.

Content: Bad hairstyle jokes. Cussing (as per usual). Mentions of drinking.

Word count: Who counts words? The same like 6 of you are gonna read this whether it’s 1 word or a million, so who cares? Then why are you adding this Bri? I don’t know, trying to be professional?

And away, and away we go!

~~~

“Max, these are the guys. Guys, this is Max. She’s your photographer,” Steve Lewis introduced.

The teenage boys eyed the girl up and down. Maxine “Max” Green stood a good foot shorter than the tallest boy, her black brown hair held back in a ponytail, brown eyes hidden behind black glasses. She was dressed simply, much like they were, in jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. Her fingers unwrapped from the camera she had dangling around her neck as she extended her hand to the boys. “Pleasure,” she said, shaking each of their hands in turn.

“Lil young to be a photographer aren’t you?” one of the blonde haired boys asked her, a hand going up to push his fringe out of his hazel eyes.

“Lil young to be a rock band, eh?” she shot back, hands going to her hips.

“Watch yourself,” Steve told them both. “Max, curb the attitude. Ash, she’s older than even you, and if you disrespect her, I’ll let her lay you out.”

The hazel-eyed boy deemed Ash smiled wickedly at Max. “Oh, yeah?”

“Stop flirting with her, and let’s do this!” the dark-haired boy said, putting his hand on Ash’s shoulder.

Ash let out a boyish giggle as his cheeks flushed.

~~~

“So, you guys are from Australia?” Max asked as she scrolled through the photos she uploaded to her computer.

“Yup. We even went to school together. Well, all but Ash,” one of the blonde boys who wasn’t Ash, spoke up. Max glanced over at the voice, noticing the green eyes. Mike. Mike was the blonde with green eyes. Mike also had a wild streak a mile wide. Max liked Mike.

“So, how did Ash get in the band? And is Ash short for something?”

“Is Max short for something?” Ash retorted.

“It’s short for shut the fuck up,” Max smiled sarcastically at him. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the oldest band member. One second he was happy and giggly like the rest of them and the next he was grumpy and sullen.

“Hey, don’t swear!” he scolded her.

“It’s short for Ashton, as in Ashton, stop being an asshole,” the other blonde haired boy explained. Luke, the baby in the band, Max remembered. She also liked him and his bubbly personality. She was sure the smile on his face was permanent.

“Stop swearing!” Ash said, throwing his hands in the air in a huff.

Max and the other three boys laughed. Then, “It’s short for Maxine. But I’ve always gone by Max. And ease up with the not-swearing bit. You’re a punk band.”

“You really think we’re punk?” Mike asked, his green eyes lighting up.

“I mean, you guys don’t dance ,and you actually play your instruments, so you’re not a boy band…”

Mike let out a squeal of excitement before giving her a rib-crushing hug. “She thinks we’re punk rock!”

“You’re not punk rock,” the dark-haired boy, Calum, by process of elimination, spoke up finally. “You’re hugging her.”

Max liked Calum too. He was quiet but when he did talk, he was downright funny.

“Hugs are totally punk rock,” Max and Mike said. Then, just Max, “Now ,let me go, so I can get back to work.”

“Are any of them good?” Ash asked, peering over her shoulder.

“Are we done being grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy,” he told her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Max rolled her eyes and pulled her bag towards her. “Here,” she said, tossing a granola bar at each boy. “I’ll tell Professor Lewis to get us some real food.”

~~~

“Max!” Steve’s voice called out as Max headed for the door of the classroom.

“Yeah?” she asked, stopping and turning back to look her professor.

“I have an opportunity for you, if you’re up to the challenge.”

She absent-mindedly rolled up the sleeves of her sweater. “Always,” she said, feeling the grin spread across her face. Professor Lewis believed in her skills in a way no one ever had. He had let her take total control over the photoshoot of the punk rock band a few weeks ago, letting her and the boys decide which ones to use. And now he was ready to trust her with something bigger, she could tell.

“Alright. 5 Seconds of Summer is touring and they need a photographer. I can’t go because I have classes to teach. Would you be willing to go in my place?”

“5 Seconds of Summer?” she asked, cocking her head to the side in confusion.

“The band you helped me with a few weeks ago.”

Her eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, yeah! Alright, cool. Wait, did you say tour photographer?”

“I did. Keep up, Max.”

“Professor… I… I’m in school…”

“I already talked to the department. Send me every shot you take so I can put it in a portfolio and we’ll make it count for as many classes as we can. Be sure to experiment with different ideas.”

“Do I get paid?”

Steve chuckled. “Max, it’s an all expenses paid tour. This is a free ticket to travel the world with a camera. But yes, when you get home, my company will cut you a check for your work.”

“And you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

“What if I mess this up?”

“Retake the shot,” he winked. “Don’t worry so much. Trust your gut. There will be a whole crew along for the ride, and I’m just a phone call away. So, can you do it?”

Max weighed through the options in her head. This was the chance of a lifetime. Her teacher believed she could do this. She was going to prove that his trust in her was well-placed. “Hell yeah!”

~~~

“Max!” Mike said, happily, doing a little run to hug the girl.

“Mikey,” she grinned, reaching up to ruffle her hands through his hair which was now bright red. “I like your hair!”

“Mum said I looked like a Skittle. I showed her!”

Max laughed, “You’re such a brat. Looks good, kid.”

“He thinks it makes him look more punk rock,” Calum said. Then, with a loud whisper, “It doesn’t!”

Max cupped her hands to her mouth and stretched up to whisper in the brown boy’s ear just as loudly, “Yes, it does!” before shooting a grin at Mike who grinned back.

“Steve sent you?” Ash’s voice said from behind her.

“Is that a problem?” she asked, turning, hands going to her hips.

“No,” the tall boy shrugged, a hand pushing his blonde fringe out of his eyes.

“You should really try a new hairstyle,” Max suggested. “The emo fringe is a little 2007.”

“I like the fringe,” the boy pouted.

“It’s not bad,” she admitted. “But, it’s gonna be a problem if you keep having to push it out of your face.”

~~~

Ashton looked over at Max. Her glasses were hanging off her shirt, her head leaning against the window of the plane. She had her earbuds in and her lips parted a little with every breath she took as she dozed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the 3-months older girl who he thought was too young to be trusted to be their tour photographer. But, he couldn’t deny the talent she had. Not that he knew much about photography, but all the pictures they used from their photoshoot a few weeks ago had been from her camera.

Still, he was hesitant towards her and he couldn’t figure out why. He wondered how much was his own nerves around the admittedly pretty girl, and how much was jealousy of how friendly she was with the other 3- especially Mike- and so cold towards him. Had he said something to upset her, and she was still feeding off of that? Was he really just a grumpy, moody teenage boy and she was a grumpy, moody teenage girl?

He shrugged the thoughts away as her head rolled from the window to his shoulder. He smiled and pulled out his phone, taking a quiet and quick selfie of him and the girl asleep on his shoulder. He bet that the girl spent so much time behind the camera that she didn’t spend a lot of time in front of it. He was going to do what he could to remedy that, and that mission started here and now.

~~~

Max sighed and paced around the room. “I can’t keep doing this back and forth with you, Owen. This is my job. I can’t just come home because you miss me.”

The 4 boys frowned as the girl continued to pace, sharing confused glances at each other. None of them had any idea who this Owen was. At a year and a half of knowing the girl, all they knew about Max was that she was good at photography and had dropped her college education to be with them full time. That and that they liked her. She, much like each other, was a constant in their ever-changing, chaotic lives. She was their much needed-stability and they were her much-craved adventure. She was their girl, and they were her boys.

“No, Owen, you’re not listening to me! I got to live my life. It would be nice if we could work out. No- I know! I know you’re fighting for us, and that’s nice. But, I’m done fighting. I’m over this. No! I’m not saying that to hurt you! Look, we lost control of this long ago. We just need to let go, okay?”

“What are you doing?” Calum asked, as Ashton pulled out his phone to record Max.

“Shh, her words. Listen!” Ashton hushed. He knew he could turn those words into a song, but he needed to be able to remember them. And in order to do that, Calum needed to shut up.

Max sighed again, her glasses sliding up her face as she rubbed at her face. “I’m not cheating on you, you insecure little bitch boy! God! See, this is why we’re breaking up! I can’t live my life if I have to constantly reassure you of our relationship! I’m claiming my independence. Goodbye.” She hung up the phone and let out a small disgruntled scream.

“You okay?” Mike asked.

“Hmm?” Max said, taking notice of the four boys. “Oh, yeah, I’m good.”

Luke frowned. “Sounds like you just broke up with your boyfriend. Didn’t even know you had one.”

She came over to mess up the blue-eyed boy’s hair. “Boyfriends are overrated,” she smiled at him.

“I think we have ice cream,” Calum said, getting up. “Mali always eats ice cream after a breakup.”

Max laughed, “Honestly guys, I’m fine.”

“Are you turning down ice cream?” Luke asked.

Mike clutched a hand to his chest in mock-shock. “How dare you!”

Max laughed and pushed the wild boy, knocking him off balance. “Better bring the whole carton, Cal. And 5 spoons,” she said, expectantly, looking at Ashton who was staring at his phone. “Ash?” Max asked, poking the boy’s shoulder.

His head glanced up. “Hmm?”

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You good?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Are you?” he challenged. The emotions in his head and heart swirled dangerously inside him like a storm. A year and a half later and he still wasn’t sure of his feelings towards the girl. He liked her. They were friends. But there still remained the level of coldness that neither of them had been able to crack through.

She narrowed her eyes at the boy, who’s fringe had been replaced by soft brown curls. Black frames covered his hazel eyes, much in the same way black frames covered her brown ones. His apparent coldness still stung as it seemed to be more in full-effect when he conversed with her, but she had come to learn that’s just how the boy was. A tough facade to hide the soft boy he was inside. He was the oldest in the band, he had to act the part. Still, she wasn’t sure why he had to be so hard around her. But, she was still clueless to just how soft the boy actually was towards her, photos of her taking up most of the space on his phone, but he refused to delete a single one.

~~~

“That looks like it hurts,” Mike winced, watching Ashton sit in the tattoo chair.

The needle buzzing had already sent Luke running from the shop. Calum and Max were leaning against the counter with Mike, watching the needle work itself into Ashton’s wrist. The hazel eyes went wide, “What?! I thought we were all doing this together! Cal!”

Calum shrugged. “Sorry, mate. You’re on your own.”

“Mike!” Ashton continued to beg, stunned amusement in his eyes as he realized there was no going back for him and that his bandmates had bailed.

“Maybe next time, sorry Ash. I’m gonna go check on Luke.” The boy with wild hair colors Max couldn’t keep track off left the shop.

“Max?” Ashton asked, a final plea to not be alone in what was supposed to be a bonding tattoo experience.

“I’m not in the band,” she said simply, holding up her camera and snapping a picture of Ashton for proof. “Just the photographer.”

“Aw, c’mon, you’re as much as part of this band as the guys are,” Ashton said, continuing his plea.

“I am?” Max asked, her brown eyes going wide. Ashton had remained his rather cold self to the girl in their now 2 year long friendship. While it was an unspoken aspect that she was the honorary 5th member, hearing Ashton admit it made her insides twist in the most pleasant of ways. Unless he was just saying it to get her to get a tattoo with him. Either way, it was quite the line.

“Course you are.”

“Oddly suspicious coming from you while you sit in a tattoo chair, begging not to be alone.”

“How is the truth suspicious?”

Max snorted. “Oh, c’mon, Ash! We all know you just tolerate me.”

Ashton ducked his head. “Have I really been that mean to you?” he asked, his voice small.

“No,” Max told him, reaching for his hand that wasn’t being tattooed on. “You haven’t been mean. You’ve been a grump the entire time I’ve known you. But, I know it’s not because you’re mean.”

“I’m a jerk, huh?”

She held her thumb and index finger together. “Just a smidge. But, I’ve been a jerk back, so I guess we’re even.”

“So friends?”

She snorted again, this time a happier sound. “We already were, dumbass.”

“Stop swearing,” he giggled.

“Alright, who’s next?” the tattoo artist said, wrapping Ashton’s tattoo. “Keep an eye on that. You bled a lot, kid.”

Ashton’s face blushed as he hurriedly pulled down his sleeves to hide the scars on his wrists. “Thanks,” he mumbled, pulling out his wallet to pay.

“My treat,” Max spoke up, her hand reaching out to stop Ashton.

“Max, it’s fine,” Ashton protested.

“Consider it your birthday present,” she said.

“My birthday’s not for another 2 months,” he continued to protest.

“Fine. Pay for mine, I’ll pay for yours.”

“You’re gonna get one?” he asked, his hazel eyes lighting up.

“We’re a band, right?” she asked. She reached down to roll up her jeans. “Can you do the same thing right here?” she asked the tattoo artist, pointing at the soft flesh on her ankle.

“Have a seat,” he said.

Ashton scrambled up from the chair and moved to stand next to Calum while Max moved to take a seat in the chair. “Here goes nothing,” she winked at the boys. “Cal, go tell the others we’re gonna be a minute.”

~~~

“Moment of truth?” Ashton asked, hands ready to peel off the bandage on his wrist.

“Moment of truth,” Max grinned, her hands on her own bandage. They had waited until the other boys had gone to sleep, keeping the bandages on longer than necessary, wanting to save this moment for when it was just the two of them.

“Cool,” they both marveled their own tattoo, the simple tally mark etched upon their skin, before their eyes moved to admire the other’s. Max’s fingers grazed around the tattoo on Ashton’s wrist, feeling the scars underneath. “What happened?” she asked, her voice barely higher than a whisper.

Ashton jerked away, his sleeves moving to cover his hands. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, his hazel eyes growing dark.

“No, it’s not,” Max said, keeping her voice soft. “Don’t push me away, Ash. I’m not judging you.”

“Everybody else does,” the boy said sadly.

She sighed. “What is it with you and these walls? Those are more than your band mates over there. Those are your brothers. Me and you? We have matching tattoos, now. C’mon. Lower your defenses.”

“Says you. You didn’t even tell us you had a boyfriend.”

Max sighed again. “Are you tired?”

“No. Why?”

“Stay up with me. Tell me your life story, and I’ll tell you mine. Let’s get real. No secrets. Everything out in the open.”

Ashton gulped. He wasn’t sure he liked this plan. There were some secrets meant to be kept. Like his growing feelings towards her he still couldn’t figure out, and the pictures he had of her on his phone. But, he met her brown-eyed gaze that was as steady as it ever was and nodded. “Alright, who starts?”

“I’ll start,” Max decided.

~~~

“Lemme tell ya how it went down,” Calum told the camera and Max had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

A small party had formed in Ashton’s home as the men grew progressively drunker and talked about their new album. Max, clung to her cup, sipping slowly. Not being a big drinker herself, she had taken the role of designated driver many a time for her boys. But, having the party at Ashton’s meant she was free to drink a little herself. Just enough to get a small buzz going. Not nearly as plastered as her friends were becoming.

“Need more?” Ashton’s voice asked her, a blue bandana still stuck to his head.

She shook her head, reaching her hands up to tug the bandana off his head. “Remember when you used to wear these all the time?” she asked.

“Why did you let me do that? You told me the fringe was a bad idea, but you let me wear this every day for a year? Monster,” he giggled. He was pacing himself with his drinks, but Max knew her friend well enough he was walking a fine line from strong buzz to straight up drunk.

“You had worse hairstyles,” she assured him, patting his chest affectionately, trying not to take too much pleasure in the way his heartbeat drummed against her fingertips.

He winced at the memory of his long shaggy hair. “Ooo, yeah, that was bad,” he admitted with a hiccuped giggle.

She smiled as she reached up to comb through his short brown hair. “Your hair’s fine now, don’t worry. And slow down with the drinks.”

“But, I’m having fun,” he winked, his hands resting on her waist.

Her hands moved again to hold his chin. “Slow down,” she said again, her voice firm.

“You’re drinking,” he pointed out, his fingers dancing across her skin.

“Ash,” she said, pulling out of his grasp, her skin on fire. “Sober up. C’mon, I think I saw KayKay in the kitchen.”

“How come you don’t date?” he asked at the mention of his girlfriend’s name. “You’ve watched all of us date. We’ve never seen you date.”

“I date,” Max assured him, tugging him towards the kitchen.

“I’ve never seen you date,” he said, following after her.

“Drink this,” she said, pressing a water bottle in his hands. “Your buzz will keep you feeling good for a while. But you need to start drinking water.”

“You take such good care of us, Max. All of us. We wouldn’t survive without you,” he said, a finger tapping her nose affectionately.

Max let out a low chuckle. “You’re my boys. You’re my band. Of course I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Okay. I’m gonna tell you something,” he said, taking a sip of water. “Damn, that’s good,” he said, taking another sip. “Okay, the thing. And, you can’t hold this against me. I’m kinda drunk right now.”

Max chuckled again, “It’s me, Ash. You can tell me anything, you know this.”

He grinned, “No, I really can’t. Because I bet if you knew I have pictures of you on my phone- not bad pictures, I’m not a perv…- but pictures. Of you. On my phone. I’m betting you’d be mad. But, that’s okay. Because I’m pretty sure I love you. But, we can’t let Max know. This,” he said, waving a finger between the two of them. “This is a secret. So, we can’t tell Max. And we definitely can’t tell Kay. Alright.”

Max had stopped breathing at his drunken confessions, unsure of what the truth really was, and scared to find out. “Okay, Ash. We won’t tell Kay or Max. This is just between you and me.”

“Promise me,” he said, his hazel eyes dark with their seriousness.

“Cross my heart,” she told him.

“Alright, good. Now, I gotta go get Cal off that stool cuz I think he broke it.”

Max watched as he staggered off, crouching under the stool, Calum was trying to twist back into place. “Twist it, mate,” Ashton’s voice said.

“I’m twisting, bro!” Calum answered back angrily.

Max chuckled to herself, leaning against the kitchen counter, her head reeling. 5 and a half years of friendship and he finally admitted he liked her. He had admitted a whole lot more too. But it didn’t matter what his confession meant, even if it was true. He had a girlfriend. And Max had ignored her feelings for Ashton for far too long to be certain of what feelings classified as friendship and which ones crossed the line in something more.

~~~

“Hey,” Max grinned at him as he stumbled down the stairs the next morning.

“Shh,” he said, one hand waving her off, the other rubbing at his head. “Lower your voice. What are you doing here?”

“I drank, so I just crashed in the spare bedroom. Figured it was okay.”

“And you’re not hungover?”

She shook her head. “I only had like 2 drinks.”

“Mmm,” he nodded. “How’s the footage. Is any of it usable?” he asked.

It was her turn to nod. “Yeah, it’s all usable for the most part. I think the drunker you guys got, the better the videos got.”

“God, that was so stupid. Why’d you let me drink so much?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I told you to slow down.”

“Are you the one who gave me water?”

“Mhm,” she said. And the one you confessed your attraction to. And the one who put your drunk ass to bed. And the one you tried to kiss when I put your drunk ass to bed, her thoughts concluded.

“Did I do anything stupid?”

“No stupider than usual, Ash,” she assured her friend.

“Good. Cuz I thought…” He rubbed at the back of his neck, and Max leaned forward slightly in her seat, eager to hear if his sober confession matched his drunken one from last night. “Nevermind,” he finished with a sigh. “I’m gonna go do some yoga. Wanna come?”

“Sure,” she said, getting up. Damn, another time, I guess, she thought, wrapping her arm around the man’s shoulders.

~~~

“You good?” Max asked her friend. Ashton had seemed down for days, his social media accounts eerily quiet despite all the tour buzz.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

“Nothing, you just seem… I dunno, quiet I guess.”

He shrugged. “I mean, I dunno. Maybe I’m a little sad. I was with Kay for like 2 years.”

Max nodded, biting into her lip. The drummer and his girlfriend had called things off right before he left for tour, reasons unknown to everyone. “Wanna talk about it?”

Ashton shook his head, “Nah, I’m good.”

“Alright then,” she said, pulling up her camera. “Say cheese.”

~~~

“Whoa, mate…” Calum said, looking through the pictures. “Does Max know about this?”

Ashton shook his head. “At least, I don’t think she does. I might have mentioned it when we did those videos for Youngblood, but I can’t remember. She never brought it up, and I’ve been too scared to ask.”

“Mate…” Calum said again, running his hands through his blue hair. “And you’re gonna give this to her as a Christmas gift?”

Ashton nodded.

“How long?” Calum asked the obvious question.

“Honestly? Probably the whole fuckin time.”

“Doesn’t she like Mike?”

“That’s what I thought. But, then… we got these right?” he said, showing Calum the tally tattoo, and then the story of the night he had stayed up all night with Max was rolling from his lips. “And I think that’s when I actually fell for her. Just… she feels like home.”

~~~

Merry Christmas, Max! Check your email for your gift! the text from Ashton read.

Merry Christmas, Ash! she texted back, even though it was still Christmas Eve back home. Her email app pinged as she switched over.

The girl who notices the world through a camera lens, never noticing the focus was always on her. the email read, with an attached file.

Max clicked on the attachment and had to scramble to catch her phone as it slipped through her fingers. 8 years of pictures filtered through her senses. Some had simple captions like “Max having her first gelato in Italy”. Some were funnier like “Girl snores like a freight train.” But it was the first and last picture that held the words that pulled forth the tears welling in her eyes. The first picture was of her head resting gently on Ashton’s shoulder, his blonde fringe forever cemented in time with the caption “I think I love this girl.” The last photo was only a week old, and- much like the first picture- featured Ashton. He was sitting down on the couch and she was standing up behind him, marveling his black hair. In a moment of softness, she had pressed a kiss to his hair, never noticing Calum taking the shot in the corner. The caption for this picture was nearly identical to the first photo’s caption: “I know I love this woman.”

Max clutched the phone to her chest tenderly. Ever since his confession, she had gone back and forth with her own feelings. She had realized what she had always known to be true, that she was in love with the man she had watched grow up in front of her camera. She was in love with his wild streak that was larger than life and left her head pounding for days. She was in love with the gentle boy who wore both his heart and scars on his sleeve. She was in love with every version of him he had ever been, and with every version he would ever be. And here was the proof that his drunken confession had been real, solidifying both of their feelings.

But, and there was the nagging thought. But, she had seen the photo of him with KayKay at the Christmas events when they got done touring. Maybe the love Ashton was saying he felt towards her was platonic. She wasn’t sure what she wanted the answer to be.

~~~

“Hey,” he smiled at her.

“Hey,” she said, returning the smile and taking a seat next to him on the couch. “Listen,” Max started, needing to speak before she lost her nerve.

“I-” Ashton started at the same time she did, also needing to get his feelings out in the open before he lost his nerve. “I lied. Before.”

“What?” Max asked, looking at him in confusion.

“The day we got the tattoos. We stayed up all night talking. I didn’t tell you everything.”

“You didn’t?”

He shook his head. “I left out the liking you part. I thought… I was scared. I still am scared. You’ve been this… constant steadiness in my life that I didn’t know I needed, and that I would be completely lost without. I can’t even begin to tell you how many songs I helped write because I needed a way to process what I felt towards you. And… I…” His hands were running wildly through his hair, searching for the words he had never been able to say to her face.

“I know,” she interrupted, grabbing his hands and pulling them down between them. “You told me this already.”

“I did?”

She nodded. “Youngblood album. You were drunk, so I wasn’t sure how much of it was true or not.”

“I thought that was a dream…”

“Nope, it was real.”

“Shit…”

“Ashton,” she said, getting him to look at her. His hazel eyes held a look she had never quite seen. She had seen those eyes dance wildly in his happiest moments, the cold hardness when he was angry, the dangerous flashing when he got intimidating, the soft sorrow of reflection. Every mood she had seen in his eyes. But this? This wasn’t sad. It was… she wanted to say scared, but in all her days she had never known the man sitting next to her to be scared. Scary, yes, but not scared himself. Ashton Irwin was many things, but scared was not one of them. Yet, here he was, scared absolutely shitless as 8 years of feelings lay between them. “I lied, too.”

“What about?” he asked, swallowing his fears, but not allowing himself to be hopeful either.

“Ashton, you’re my best friend. And I struggled for a long time trying to break down your walls without knowing why. And then, you finally let me in. And… God, it was like a switch flicked on. At the time, well, maybe always, I thought that our friendship meant more to me than the possibility of what we could be. But, then you kept being you. And then you told me how you felt. And I didn’t want to believe it, because I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be true or not. And then you sent me the pictures and I knew it was. And, I value our friendship, I really do. But, I’m also really wishing you’re gonna ask me for more than a friendship, so I can say yes.”

“You are?” His voice was a low whisper, like he was afraid that talking too loudly would shatter whatever this moment was.

Max nodded. “I just have one question. Kaykay?”

“Just friends,” he answered.

“So, are we,” she countered.

“You and I were never just friends,” Ashton said, and then his lips were on hers. “You are my best friend. And so much more.”

“Shut up, and kiss me,” she said, grinning.

#photographs and tattoos #ashton irwin #ashton fic #galcal irwin #i need a minute...

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just-existing1 · 5 years

Text

14 Days of College AUs!

Pairing: Friend! Jaehyung x Reader

Warnings: None really, aside from that I didn’t or proofread this because I was tired, so yeah, enjoy!

Summary: After a small incident your roommate is mad at you and decides to sacrifice you to the Pollen Gods. Who can you turn to? The only other person who hates pollen just as much as you.

You roll around in your bed and sigh softly as you feel your nose running, a groan emanates from deep within your chest as you sit up trying to breathe. How could your nose be running when it was clogged? How was it possible for you to have so much trouble trying to force air out of your nose but yet snot could slide through with no problem? The real question wasn’t either of the aforementioned ones, but really it was what had sparked your allergies in the first place. You had been inside all weekend, trying to very hard to make sure you didn’t breathe in even one pollen particle so how had this happened in a span of one hour while you were sleeping?

Slowly your eyes scan the expanse of your dorm room before settling on the open window at the opposite end of the room. You feel anger rising inside of you, why would your roommate open the window when they know you have such terrible allergies? The soft music your roommate is playing only makes your anger begin to bubble higher. Throwing your blanket to the side, you make your way to the window, slamming it shut, before spinning around on your heel to face your roommate.

“What are you doing?” They ask, turning away from their plethora of flashcards, highlighters, and sticky notes. You can hear how annoyed you’ve made them. You take a deep breath trying to relieve some anger before crossing your arms across your chest.

“You know I have bad allergies, why would you open the window on today of all days? The day where we’re having the most pollen?” You question, reaching over to grab some tissues to wipe away the streams of snot that were trying to make their way down your face.

“Be cause it’s hot and I don’t want to turn on the AC. There’s perfect weather outside, so why turn on the AC?” They snap, standing up angrily and walk over to the window, placing their hand on the handle.

“You can study literally anywhere else. I don’t like having to say that because it’s your room too but I can’t even walk outside for twenty minutes without feeling like my head it going to spontaneously burst open.”

“I shouldn’t have to go anywhere else to study, like you said it’s my room too.”

“Then you could at least be considerate of your roommate who is literally having trouble breathing and just turn on the AC instead of letting all the pollen into the room.”

“You could be considerate and just take medicine so that I can open the window.”

“You’re really impossible, you know that? I can’t go get any medicine! Do you want to go get me some? You know I haven’t been able to go out all weekend because of my allergies and you think that I’m just going to be able to go out today? How does that make any sense to you?”

“That’s not my fault or my problem,” Your roommate argues back and you huff as they open the window once more. While standing there wondering how you could possibly avoid dying at the hands of your sadistic roommate, a thought pops into your head. You fumble through your sheets for your phone and then open your messages, selecting the thread at the very top.

You grab the closest jacket to you along with a scarf and wrap it around your face tightly so the least amount of pollen possible will reach your nose. Going around your room, you pull snacks out of various places where you’ve hidden them from your roommate and find some ramen adding all of your treasures to a bag and then grab your phone charger. You take a deep breath, holding it as you open the door and begin your sprint up the stairs. After two flights of stairs and running down a corridor, you reach your friend’s door. Twisting the handle, you slip inside quickly shutting the door behind you and release your breath. Panting, you sit the bag of food on the floor and look around the room trying to find your friend.

“Is it closed?” A voice comes from seemingly nowhere and you spin in a circle trying to find him.

“Uh, yeah, it’s closed,” You say and remove your scarf and jacket. To your surprise the wardrobe door opens and your friend, Jae, steps out. Your eyes widen and he turns to you with a smile.

“Jae… why were you in the closet?”

“To hide from the pollen, Y/N. I don’t just hang out in my closet for no reason. I’m not a weirdo.”

“The fact that you were in the closet in the first place makes you a weirdo, Chicken Little.”

“I can kick you out into the pollen and let you suffer, you know?” Jae says, stretching his arms above his head and you swear you can hear every joint in his body pop.

“You haven’t been… in the closet all week end right? Like, it was just while I opened the door?” You question, taking off your shoes and wander over to his bed, tucking yourself under his cover.

“No, I wasn’t hanging out in the closet all week end. If I was, I wouldn’t be able to move at all.”

You smile and point to the bag of food on the floor.

“Wanna play video games and eat the snacks I brought? I figure that way at least we’re not bored while we wait for an inevitable pollen induced death,” You joke as he bends to pick the bag up off the floor and takes out two bowls of ramen before tossing the snacks at you.

“Might as well enjoy our last moment together, eating ramen and potato chips while we murder aliens or something,” He says and starts getting the ramen ready while you get up and turn on the console, grabbing the controls and then hide yourself amongst his blankets again. Scrolling through the games he has on his console, you finally settle on Borderlands and sit up straight as he walks toward you, a bowl of ramen in each hand.

“Why is it that you look more comfortable in my bed than I do?” He asks as he hands you a bowl, “If you spill that in my bed, I will make your death come faster than you expected.”

You chuckle, feigning fear and move to sit on the floor, before starting to enjoy your ramen, talking to him nonchalantly about the classes he was taking this semester. While learning just how much Jae seemed to hate every class he had signed up for you stood up, walking over to the kitchen area. After devouring every noodle, you toss the disposable bowl in the trash and finally started the game.

Hours of enjoying snacks and changing between games, because Jae got bored of playing the same thing over and over again, you finally gave up and told him to play whatever he wanted and laid on his bed scrolling through your social medias, when a post caught your attention.

“I thought your roommate was home for the weekend?” You ask, not really thinking much about your question.

“He is.”

“Then why did he post that he’s really loving the weather on campus right now?”

“Because it’s the end of the weekend, Y/N. He should be home anytime.”

You sit up quickly and look at him. Wrapping the blankets around your face, you groaned, only letting your eyes peak over the top of the cover.

“He’s going to open the door Jae, we’re gonna die. The pollen will sense us and then we’ll be dead.”

Jae turned to face you, you could see his eyes widen as they flitted back and forth between you and the door. Both of your faces showed horror when you could hear his roommate unlocking the door, you couldn’t help but start laughing when Jae ran to the wardrobe and flung himself inside just in time for the door to open. His roommate stepped inside and stared at you for a moment before closing the door quickly.

“You good?” He joked as he walked toward his bed, you nodded and released the blanket slowly.

“Yeah, just… pollen, you know?” You say and lean against the wall.

“Oh yeah, you and Jae both have crazy bad allergies… where is Jae exac-” His roommate cuts off his sentence when Jae tumbles very unceremoniously from the closet, “What the fuck did I just witness?”

“Hiding from pollen,” Jae says picking himself up from the floor and looks between the two of you smiling, “Welcome back, Brian.”

“Why do you insist on calling me Brian?”

“I don’t know. It just rolls off the tongue, Bri Bri.”

You chuckle at the banter between and sigh softly as you pick up a bag of potato chips, watching the funny exchange between the roommates in front of you. If anything, aside from offering you a safe haven from the pollen, Jae also always somehow managed to bring a smile to your face and if Brian was including, you knew you would be dying of laughter sooner or later. You could tell that your ribs would be aching by the time the night was over just by seeing how Brian already had Jae in a headlock as Jae explained that he may have potentially eaten one of Brian’s snacks.

#Day6 #Day6 Jae #park jaehyung #jaehyung park #14 Days of College AUs!

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zweiginator · 6 years

Note

Please please please weepy whiney crying bri begging to cum but you're just having so much fun blowing him that you keep edging him to keep it going

finally some good fucking FOOD

As the morning light reflects upon the semi-closed blinds in your and Brian’s bedroom, your eyes flicker open, glad to finally be awoken to something other than violent thunderstorms or freezing rain pattering at the window pane. Brian is asleep next to you, his mouth parted and his eyebrows knitted together as his head rolls against the pillow. He moves on his side so he’s facing you, his cheeks and nose becoming veiled in a deep blush as a whine escapes his pretty mouth, fanning over your neck. You run your hand over his shoulder, thumbing the thin fabric of his fading t-shirt before pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead and pushing some unruly curls away from his honey eyes. He whimpers almost incoherently and pushes the covers off of his wiry torso, letting out a contented sigh as he cools himself off. His eyes are quivering beneath his glossy eyelids and you can tell he’s dreaming. You worry he’s having a nightmare until you see the tent in his boxers, his hips thrusting upwards as he lets out a tiny moan.

You kiss his lips, tasting a faint amount of liquor on them from the night before, before tracing your mouth down his jaw and over his collarbones, flicking your tongue over where his clavicle dips and curves into his milky skin.

“Brian, baby.” You kiss his cheek and stroke his temple. “Wake up, bub.”

He groans a bit and stretches, his eyes fluttering open as cheeks lift up in a lazy smile. “’Morning angel.” His voice is groggy and raw as he rubs his eyes, yawning into a close fist.

“Have a good dream?” You trail your hand down his torso and thumb the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up enough to expose his toned stomach; it sits just at his protruding ribs. You kiss between his ribs and leave open-mouthed kisses down the expanse of his torso, straddling his body.

Brian blushes and nods, his fingers finding a home upon your hips. You’re wearing a shirt of his and it has ridden up over your hips, so your clothed core is resting directly on top of Brian’s cock, rock hard beneath his boxers.

You pull his fingers from the soft skin of your hips and pin his arm above his head, bending down to press a kiss to the side of his mouth. “Want me to take care of you? Your cock is leaking.” You nibble at the skin by his jaw and he whimpers, nodding quickly.

“So quiet this morning,” You grind against him and he cries out, his hips bucking upwards. “Gonna be a good boy and use your words?”

He swallows and nods yet again, before choking out a whiny “Yes, please.”

You pull his shirt all the way off of him and toss it at the foot of the bed, sucking marks into his collarbones and licking along his bony sternum. You trail your tongue over his nipples and kiss his chest lovingly, before peppering smaller kisses over his ribs. You look up at him while you lick down his stomach, reaching the patch of hair leading you to his cock.

“I want more–please give me more..” Brian watches you desperately, his cock throbbing in his boxers as your hand ghosts over the shaft, pressing just hard enough to emit a little cry from Brian’s throat.

“Oh baby, so desperate.” You coo, reaching up to stroke his hair, your breath still fanning over his cock. “Keep your hands above your head, okay? Be good.”

His forearms tense, the muscles rippling as he locks his hands together, willing to do anything if you ask him to. You latch your teeth to the waistband of his boxers and pull them down, watching how he squirms and writhes on the bed, his chest beginning to perspire like his forehead. His cock slaps against his stomach as his boxers pool around his ankles, which are hanging limp off the bed. The slit is weeping; a steady flow of salty pre-cum dribbles over his navel and you can see the veins in his shaft pulsing as you kiss around where his heavy cock is sitting.

“Look at that pretty cock of yours.” You praise, the tip of your finger tracing along the underside, against a thick vein running up the shaft. “Pretty just like the rest of you, my handsome boy.”

He whines and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes stinging with hot tears as you blow air over his cock, fanning it from his tip to his balls. “I’m so hard please–it hurts.” He begs, rocking his hips up so your lips barely graze along his shaft.

“Good boys are patient.” You warn, grabbing his chin and tilting his head so it faces you. You suck a kiss onto the tip of his cock before using the very tip of your tongue to lick a thin stripe down his long shaft.

“Fu–fuck! Please--let me cum--I deserve it, please.”

You scoff and press a wet, open-mouthed kiss over his shaft. “You deserve it? Don’t be cocky, baby.��

He shakes his head, his curls matted against his sweaty forehead and neck. “’M sorry.”

You don’t say another word, you just look up at him, letting some spit dribble onto his cock as your other hand strokes him, massaging your saliva into the sensitive skin of his dick. “You’re throbbing, baby. What got you so hard? What were you dreaming about, you naughty boy?”

His face grows hotter as he thinks about it; he’s obviously embarrassed. “Was about--you.” He chokes out as you suck his tip into your mouth, making his eyes flutter shut, his eyelids suddenly feeling impossibly heavy.

“Yeah?” You urge, lifting his cock from his stomach before swirling your tongue around his tip, gathering his pre-cum and showing him how it coats your tongue.

“Fuuuck--I’m so sensitive. I’m not gonna--last. I’m so hard.” He pleads with you, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from yelling out.

“Tell me what I was doing to you.” You jerk him off quickly, rubbing his tip over your lips and letting your spit spill down the sides of him.

“This--you were sucking me off.” He arches his back off the bed and groans as you take him fully into your mouth, gagging around him, fluttering your eyelashes as you look into his glassy eyes. He’s crying now; his hands are now by his sides, fisting the sheets so tightly his knuckles are white. His head rolls to the side as his stomach tenses up, your tongue tracing over his shaft as you hollow your cheeks around him.

“I’m gonna cum--I can’t hold--hold it back.” He shakes his head and rests on his elbows, which are trembling from his arousal, his pure desperation.

“No, you’re not gonna cum yet, pretty boy.” You say, popping your mouth off of him.

He whimpers and tenses his jaw, clenching his fists so his nails dig into the soft skin of his palms. “Please! Please let me--I--I’m too hard. I can’t.” He sighs heavily and you reach up to wipe some tears from his eyes with your thumb.

“Oh, baby. Don’t cry.” You jerk him off slowly, teasing him with small squeezes and scratches of your nails up and down his shaft, tracing along his veins. You look up at him as innocently as possible with his cock between your lips, sucking his head as your thumbs massage what can’t fit into your mouth.

“Feels--so good...Please can I cum?” He gives you his best puppy-dog eyes, his eyebrows scrunched together as his hips thrust into your mouth involuntarily.

“Wait, baby. Just wait, okay?” You coo before deepthroating him again, your spit spilling down the side of his shaft, mixing with his pre-cum, which is thickening with every stroke of his cock down your throat.

“I can’t!” He yells, his hands gathering your hair in an attempt to take control of the situation.

You slap his hands away and pull off of him, wiping some tears from your own eyes from how far he was sheathed in your throat. “Baby.” You stroke his cheek and look at him sorrowfully. “I was so close to letting you cum.” You run your fingers through his hair and he whines, trying to rock his cock against your soaked pussy. “I’ll finish you off if you promise to be good for me. If you don’t, you’re not cumming all day.”

He huffs, annoyed, before nodding.

You wrap your hand around his throat and push on his windpipe, just slightly. “Understood?”

“Yes--yes I promise...I’ll be so good--please let me cum..” He lays on his hands and rolls his head back as you suck him into your mouth, humming and choking around his cock, your tongue stroking it slowly. You fondle his balls and jerk the rest of him that can’t possibly fit into your mouth, and you chuckle, seeing Brian’s eyes roll back as his mouth falls open. He lets out drawn out, silky moans while you suck hard on the tip of his cock, never breaking eye contact with your desperate, fucked out boyfriend.

You hollow your cheeks and squeeze his shaft, pulling your mouth off of him and sliding his cock over your lips. “Cum for me, come on baby. Be a good boy and cum.”

You jerk him off quickly and Brian fucks your fist, his hips bucking upwards as strangled cries escape his raw throat. “Fuck!--Fuck, can I please cum on your face? I want it so bad--please.” He begs and you push his hips down, stroking him faster until his cum spurts over your lips and dribbles down your cheeks. Some is in your hair and has landed on your forehead. It’s hot and pearly white and there’s a lot of it.

You coax Brian through his orgasm, praising him like you know drives him crazy. “Baby, you look so pretty when you cum--so desperate for it.” You continue twisting your hand around him. “My perfect, perfect boy. Look at you, all spread out for me--letting go. Such a good boy.”

He falls back against the bed, his chest heaving as his cock begins to soften. He’s in a haze from the intensity of his orgasm, his head buried into the pillow. You wipe some cum from his stomach and clean yourself off before getting back into bed with him. He pulls you into his chest and kisses your shoulder softly.

“I love when you call me your good boy.” He says, nibbling your earlobe.

“Yeah, I can tell.” You ruffle his hair and lean back into him, falling asleep in his arms.

HOly fuck this is literally my biggest k*nk im so sorry ladies and gents.....

#brian may smut #brian may x reader #blurb

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freddie-mercurial · 5 years

Note

Prompt: Freddie gets roofied at one of their wild parties and Bri catches on just in time

Warnings for non-consensual drug use, non-consensual touching/kissing.

The party is definitely one of the biggest they’ve ever thrown, possibly the biggest, it’s almost overwhelming. Brian’s been pacing himself, drifting amongst the party-goers, accepting congratulations and pats on the back and posing for photographs when needed—there are a lot of press around, camera flashes lighting up the room like it’s a disco. Brian wishes they’d all leave, none of them get on very well with the press, but they’re launching their new album so its a necessary evil.

John’s disappeared somewhere, probably sought out a more quiet corner away from the intensity of it all while Roger’s dived right in with the best of them, his shrieks of laughter audible every now and then even over the music. And Freddie…Freddie has his Freddie Mercury armour on, knocking back shots and over-acting, draping himself over anyone who wants a photograph with him, snogging one of the journalists who tries to ask him questions.

Brian wanders closer to him every now and then to touch base, checking in. Freddie’s drinking heavily but he seems okay, happy enough despite the fact that he usually can’t stand being at a party that he hasn’t organised himself.

“I think this is our best yet, darling!” he yells into Brian’s ear during one check-in, his arm wound tightly around Brian’s neck as their own songs blast out over the sound system.

Brian grins and can’t help but agree; they’ve done well. Really well. This album really is their best yet, and soon they’ll be touring it all across the world. Brian can’t wait to get back on the road, that’s always where he feels best, where he feels most alive.

“Well,” Brian calls back. “We’ve got a pretty decent frontman. Think people like him.”

Freddie laughs delightly and pokes him in the ribs. “It’s that guitar of yours that does it!”

He’s whisked away then; everyone wants a slice of Freddie Mercury and Freddie knows that on a night like this, it’s his job to provide. To give the people what they want. The legendary debauchery that they’ve all heard so much about, the diva persona that makes Freddie so infamous.

It’s mostly an act, though. Which is why Brian finds it odd when, half an hour later, Freddie can barely stand. He’d been drunk when Brian spoke to him but not completely plastered, Freddie would never get completely shit-faced at an event like this, a work event. But Brian can see him in amongst the little crowd he’s found himself in, a group of people Brian doesn’t recognise.

Freddie’s clinging to one of the men to try and stay upright, his head lolling down onto his shoulder, and the man’s laughing, rolling his eyes at the others as he gestures at Freddie.

“Can’t hold his drink,” he seems to be saying. Something like that, something to laugh off, like Freddie does this all the time.

But he doesn’t. Brian knows him better than anyone; Freddie doesn’t get that drunk and he’s never been a blackout drunk, not even during their uni days when he could barely handle a second shot of vodka.

Brian resolves to keep a closer eye on him, putting his beer down and forgetting about it, wondering where Roger’s gotten to and if he’s still sober enough to ask him to keep an eye out, too. He doesn’t want to be a killjoy and go over there sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong, but he’s suspicious. He has a bad feeling he just can’t shake.

It’s just that he’s never seen that man before in his life, it’s certainly not someone Freddie’s ever slept with before—Brian would have noticed him coming out of Freddie’s hotel room if he was.

And he’s gone. He and Freddie are both gone; when the crowd parts enough for Brian to properly see through them again to the little group, the rest of them are there but the two of them are nowhere to be seen. It leaves a bad taste in Brian’s mouth and he starts across the room at once, looking for Freddie even though there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that tells him he’s looking in the wrong place.

Maybe he’s overreacting but when he can’t find Freddie in a minute’s scan of the crowd, Brian heads straight for the elevators, hoping he’s wrong but not willing to take the chance. He punches the button for their floor over and over, impatient as the doors seem to take an age to slide closed and then the lift rattles to life, ascending so slowly Brian’s nearly beside himself by the time the doors open.

And not a moment too soon. Brian goes cold when he looks into the corridor.

Freddie’s there but he can still barely stand, held up against the wall by the man from earlier who has a knee between his legs and a hand on his chest, kissing him sloppily.

“Hey!” Brian shouts, striding over. He can feel his hands shaking with anger as he approaches, he can’t remember ever being this angry. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He wrenches the man away by the neck of his shirt, feeling his nails catch on his skin, and Brian has to quickly grab Freddie so he won’t fall once he’s no longer being supported.

“Whoa, what the fuck?” the guy shouts, one hand flying up to clutch at his neck, glaring at Brian. “Do you mind? We’re kind of in the middle of something.”

“In the middle of—” Brian grits his teeth and it’s lucky he’s holding onto Freddie because he’s not a violent man but he would’ve thrown a punch then without a second’s hesitation.

“Bri?” Freddie asks, slurred. His eyes are half-closed and he’s only a small man but it’s a struggle keeping him upright, Brian’s having to support most of his weight.

“What the fuck have you given him?” Brian hisses.

“Nothing!” the guy snaps, throwing his hands up, but the worried look on his face gives him away. “We were just drinking! It’s not my fault he can’t handle vodka, for fuck sake!” He’s backing up, guilty and frightened now that he’s been caught, and Brian wishes he’d brought security with him because he can’t leave Freddie to chase him down.

“You’re going to fucking jail you sick bastard!” Brian shouts after him, trying to take a mental picture of his face before turning back to Freddie, using his thumb to pull one of his eyelids up. “Fred? You with me?”

“Mmm,” Freddie gets out, limp in Brian’s arms. “Brian.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Brian’s trying to keep his panic at bay but it’s difficult, he’s never seen Freddie like this. “Fred, I need to get you to a doctor, can you hear me?”

“No!” Freddie clutches at him suddenly, violently shaking his head. “No, please!”

“Freddie that bastard gave you something, it could be dangerous—”

“No!” Freddie moans, holding Brian tighter. “Brian, don’t.” Each word is as unsteady as his legs when Brian tries to get him to put his weight on them. “Sleep, I wanna…sleep, Bri.”

“Okay,” Brian says, not wanting to distress him any further. “Okay, Freddie, let’s get you inside.”

He has no idea where Freddie’s key is but his own room is only two doors down so Brian hauls him along the corridor to get to it, fumbling with his key to get the door open. “You doing alright, Fred?” he asks as he carefully guides him through the door.

Freddie sighs and hums the tune of Doing All Right, which Brian takes to mean he’s aware enough not to be in any immediate danger.

“That’s it,” Brian says encouragingly, pulling him over to the bed and gently laying him down on it. “You with me, Freddie?”

Freddie only groans at him, tiredly letting his head flop against the pillow, though one hand remains clutching Brian’s arm. “Don’t go,” Freddie breathes. “Brian!” he says quickly, growing panicked when Brian makes as if to leave him.

“Freddie, you probably need a doctor and we need to tell the police that—”

“Bri! Please!” Freddie begs, struggling to try and sit up, swaying bonelessly as he does until Brian steadies him. “Not the police, not—not a doctor, the press, Bri!” He’s scrabbling at him, eyes blown wide and panicked, clearly still not with it.

“Alright, alright,” Brian says gently, catching Freddie’s hand and holding it still. It’s cold in his own, small and somehow fragile. “I’m not going anywhere. Lie down, Freddie, that’s it.”

Freddie does, falling back against the pillows, eyes slipping closed at once. Brian feels sick to the stomach at the thought of that man with him, of Freddie so vulnerable, and tightens his fingers around Freddie’s hand. He wishes he could at least lock the door behind them but Freddie’s grip on his hand is still deathly tight so Brian doesn’t even try to get up to lock it; Freddie’s more important right now.

Brian lies down beside him, keeping a watchful eye on both him and the door, and settles in to stay for the night; no fucking way is he leaving Freddie alone after all of that.

#replies #prompts #freddie #brian

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writingfortoomanyfandoms · 5 years

Text

Not My Mistake Pt 3

Pairing: Hardy!Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: Roger slept with her roommate and Y/N did him a favour

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol

A/N: Sorry there’s been such a long wait since the last part but I lowkey love how this one turned out so please remember to let me know what you think - like, comment, reblog it really helps me want to write more parts :)

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six

“That girl’s looking at you,” Brian informed Roger, nodding to the other side of the bar. “She’s been watching you all evening.”

“That’s hardly new, Brian,” Roger scoffed cockily and the curly haired man rolled his eyes in response.

“She’s hot is all - definitely would be your type,” Roger finally gave in and followed Brian’s gaze to where the woman was sat between two men, some friends surrounded her, one of which Roger was painfully familiar with.

A half smile lifted Roger’s lips as he looked at the woman Brian had indicated. Y/N grinned at him and Roger couldn’t help himself as he winked back, knowing full well the action would cause his friend to roll her eyes. Of course, she did just as Roger predicated, though she accompanied it with a laugh. The laugh that never failed to make his heart flutter.

Three months had passed since Roger had accompanied Y/N to her apartment. He had spent the night on her couch with her, the two of them having collapsed there together after indulging themselves in a few more bottle of beer and cider. Nothing had happened, though. When they awoke the next morning Y/N’s head was on his chest but she had been quick to move away with an embarrassed apology that Roger had found so endearing.

They had exchanged numbers, met up for coffee frequently and Roger often found himself walking her to her university lectures.

He was completely enamoured by her. Not that he would ever admit that, especially to himself.

“Hey, mate, do me a favour and get that girl over there a rum and coke?” Roger asked, pulling out his wallet and indicating at Y/N. The bartender nodded and set about mixing the drink for Roger.

“Rum and coke? That’s an acquired taste, Rog. What happened to playing it safe and just ordering beers?” Brian asked, laughing at Roger’s decision. Roger shrugged. He wasn’t about to tell Brian that he knew Y/N. He wasn’t ready to share her just yet.

“She seems like that kind of girl,” Roger told his friend instead, well in the knowledge that rum and coke was Y/N’s favourite drink. A fact proven by the way her eyes lit up as the bartender presented her with the drink and how she grinned at Roger.

Brian whistled, clearly shocked by the overwhelmingly positive reaction from the woman.

“You going to talk to her?” He asked. Roger shook his head, standing from the barstool he had been seated at.

“There are plenty of girls here, Bri, best give them all a shot.”

Y/N couldn’t deny the way that her heart appeared to sink when Roger moved out of her eyesight, with the curly-haired man who played guitar in their band. Brian, the astrophysicist. Roger had described him previously as being ‘lanky and awkward, a bit of a nerd but an all-round great guy’.

One day she’d like to meet them properly, form her own opinions.

Though she wasn’t sure when that may be.

“Come on, you’ve been moping over lover boy all night,” her friend Beth moaned, tugging at Y/N’s arm as she took a drink from the rum and coke Roger had bought for her.

“Leave me alone,” the woman groaned, pulling her arm out of Beth’s grasp.

“You’ll see your boyfriend tomorrow, I’m sure, so now you can dance with me,”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Y/N argued but allowed Beth to pull her over to the dance floor, drink still held securely in her hand as she began to move to the beat of the music playing.

Over the course of the night she saw Roger multiple times. Mostly he was surrounded by pretty groupies. If he caught her eye he’d give her one of his famous winks and set her heart beating a million times an hour.

At the end of the night, however, he joined her as she waited for a taxi, Jamie and Caleb having gone to spend the night elsewhere. Roger lit up a cigarette as he joined her outside the pub.

“Can I join you?” He asked, breaking the comfortable silence that lay between them. A slight smile grew on her face as she observed her friend from the corner of her eye.

“So long as you pay half,” she said. Roger chuckled around his cigarette, the smoke curling from his fingers, momentarily mesmerising Y/N as she took in his profile.

Admiring his beauty.

It wasn’t fair for him to be that pretty Y/N thought as she looked at him. He would make a prettier girl than her if he so wished. The thought caused a giggle to escape her lips and Roger turned fully to look at her, a soft smile reserved only for her on his face.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t pay?”

“When have you ever tried to be a gentleman, my love?” She teased in response. Roger let out his loud, full laugh and tossed his cigarette to the floor, using the heel of his foot to stomp out the flame. He placed his arm around Y/N’s shoulder and pulled her to his chest upon feeling how cold her skin felt against his.

Roger’s fingers ran up and down her bare arms, attempting to get some warmth back into her lightly shivering frame as he hugged her.

“When are you going to start bringing jackets?” He scolded, though his tone was soft and gentle, almost adoring.

“When I get a boyfriend and stop having to dress up to fool people into thinking I’m functioning?” Y/N suggested, pleased to hear Roger’s laugh fill her ears once more.

“You can’t form a relationship based on deceit, sweetheart,” he teased as a taxi pulled up at long last.

“I’m not your sweetheart, Rog,” she grinned, stepping out of his arms and climbing into the taxi, immediately missing the comfort his embrace provided.

The ride back to her apartment was silent, the way it always was. Y/N was not quite sure why the two of them lapsed into silence, retreating into their thoughts as soon as they entered the taxi, but they always did. Her head rested on Roger’s shoulder and his scent filled her nose: a mix of cigarette smoke, traces of women’s perfume, his aftershave and an underlying tone of vanilla that she knew came from the cookies they had made together earlier that day. It was a mix that should not smell good together and yet, a mix that was just so wholly, comfortingly Roger.

“No groupie tonight then?” Y/N questioned as they entered her apartment. Roger moved straight for the fridge and Y/N knew it was because she had begun to buy his favourite of beer when she went out shopping. Roger let out a laugh at her question.

“You know I’ll always come home to you, Y/N/N.”

“We don’t live together, Rog,” Y/N laughed, though she appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

“Well I’ll always come home at the end of the day anyway,” Roger winked at her, his next words causing her heart to skip a beat despite the drunken slur they were spoken with. “And you’re my home.”

“Careful, Rog, or people will think you’re loosing your rockstar edge,” Y/N joked in an attempt to divert attention away from her burning cheeks.

“Please, I’m ore rockstar than ever before,” Roger waved her off dismissively as the two of them collapsed onto her bed, facing one another.

“What do you mean by that?” Y/N asked, going completely still as she waited for Roger’s explanation. A beautiful, joyful smile spread across his ethereal features.

“We’re going on tour of America!” Y/N launched herself into his waiting arms, laughing loudly as Roger readily embraced her, his laugh joining hers.

“No way!” She said breathlessly as she straddled him, not thinking about how it must have felt for him or considering the consequences of their overly affectionate actions. Roger didn’t appear to mind, though, as his hands came to rest on her waist. “I’m so proud of you!” She beamed, her joy completely genuine and unfiltered, her smile infectious.

“I knew you would be,” Roger declared and Y/N hit his chest, affectionately scolding him for his somewhat cocky tone.

“When did you find out?” She asked.

“Earlier today - Brian told me as soon as I got home from yours. He was absolutely buzzing,” Roger chuckled. Y/N moved from her position on top of him. “Where are you going?” He asked and he could feel his gaze on her as she left her bedroom.

When she returned five minutes later, Roger had changed into a pair of his sweatpants and a hoodie he had begun to leave at her apartment and sat with his back against the headboard. He looked completely angelic and to anyone unacquainted with the two of them it would look as though they were a regular couple, as opposed to the ‘just friends’ branding they gave themselves.

“We need to celebrate properly, my love!” Y/N announced, dropping two mugs onto her duvet. Roger picked one up and raised his eyebrows at her.

“Fancy.”

“Fuck off, you prick,” Y/N laughed as she struggled to open the bottle of cheap champaign Sally had bought a few days ago - she’d have to replace it before her ‘friend’ caught wind of Y/N having drunk it.

“Give it here, dipshit, you’re making a right mess of it,” Roger chuckled affectionately at her struggles to open the bottle. Y/N sighed and passed it to him.

“We don’t have proper glasses,” she said by way of explanation as she held up the two mugs she had fetched from the kitchen for Roger to pour the liquid into.

“This is perfect,” Roger assured her, taking his mug from her and clinking them together.

The action caused Y/N to chuckle and she joined Roger with her back against the headboard and rested her head against his shoulder.

“Promise you won’t forget me when you get all big and famous?” She sighed, wrapping her fingers around the mug clasped tightly in her hands.

“What if someone better comes along, though?” The teasing edge in his voice was clear and Y/N gasped, elbowing him gently in the ribs, making Roger erupt into a fit of giggles.

It was moments like these that she adored - sitting with Roger, a man she had befriended not all that long ago, teasing one another and making each other laugh. It was moments like these that she thanked God that Roger had been stupid enough to sleep with Sally.

The thought brought an amused smile to her face as she rested comfortably back against Roger.

“I’m only joking, sweetheart, I could never forget you,” Roger promised. Y/N turned to stick her tongue out at him playfully and Roger held his hands up in defence, though there was a soft smile on his face, an expression near to adoration. “I know, I know, you’re not my sweetheart,” he put in before she could utter a word. He relaxed his arms down, this time resting one around her shoulder and allowing her head to rest on his chest.

“You’re learning” she decided, though she couldn’t deny the way her heart sped up every time he called her by the nickname. Perhaps that was why she was so opposed to the term of endearment.

“Though, I suppose if you’re not my sweetheart then you won’t be wanting me to call you while I’m away,” Roger teased. Y/N gasped, taking his playful joke as a serious thread, moving from her comfortable position against his chest to glare at her now-close friend.

“You better call me, Roger - at least once a week,” Roger chuckled and pulled her back into his embrace, dropping a tender kiss to the top of her head.

“I promise I’ll call you after every show,” he vowed.

“You won’t get distracted by groupies?” She asked.

“How could I when my favourite groupie is right here, waiting for me to call?”

“Fuck off,” Y/N laughed, pushing him gently. “I’m so proud of you,” she sighed.

“You’re getting drunk,” Roger informed her, his eyes twinkled in amusement as he watched her.

“Doesn’t change what I mean,” Y/N huffed.

“Get some rest, Y/N/N, you’re helping me pack tomorrow.”

#bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast #Queen #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor imagines #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fic #roger taylor fluff #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x Y/N #roger taylor series #ben hardy!roger taylor #ben hardy! roger taylor #not my mistake series

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forever-rogue · 6 years

Text

Sweet Sounds - Part I/II

Request: Can you do a ben!roger imagine where the reader is blind?

A/N: So, I kinda totally love this idea!? It’s so different, but I think it’s sweet. I hope you all enjoy! xx

Paring: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: slight implied smut

MASTERLIST

PART II

Roger thought his heart might stop when he first spotted Y/N sitting in the crowd at their gig. He was doing his normal routine, drumming away, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he scanned the group for possible companions for the evening. It was a typical turnout - college kids, people on dates, party goers, groupies. Nothing that kept his attention for long. and instead his focused on making a show out of twirling his drumsticks.

Not long afterwards he looked back into the crowd, just to make sure they were still paying attention, when his eyes landed on Y/N. She was saw at a table, surrounded by a few friends, at least that’s what he assumed, as she gently swayed along to the music. Roger almost completely lost his rhythm as he stared at her, earning a side glance from Deacy, who momentarily stopped dancing as he realized what was happening. Brian rolled his eyes at his best friend, annoyed by the fact that Roger never to be able to control himself. Freddie didn’t even seem to notice, too lost in his own world as usual.

But Roger felt like he was in another world; stunned by the most beautiful girl he had seen, who didn’t even seem to notice him. It was like he was blinded by the light and he had fallen in love for the first time.

“Rog, you’re behind,” Deacy mouthed at him over the sound of the loud drums. Roger snapped back into reality as he exchanged a look with the younger man, giving him an affirmative nod as he paid attention to the music and got back into the beat. He hadn’t realized that this girl had affected him so much. He was almost embarrassed, but brushed it off and put his normal air of cockiness.

“What the fuck was that? You almost fucking blew it!” Brian was furious at his friend, yelling at him as soon the boys stepped off the stage. He whacked the blond drummer on the back of his head as he simply responded by flipping him off.

“Fuck off, Bri. Nothing went wrong,” he said, rolling his eyes. He was hoping the boys wouldn’t want to stay too long; sometimes they took forever to pack up and change after a show. Tonight, he just wanted to strip out of his sweat soaked clothes, and get back out to the front of the bar to look for the girl that had captured his attention.

“Stop bickering darlings, nobody notices you guys when I’m on the stage,” Freddie walked between the two of them, hoping they’d finally shut up. Brian let out a heavy sigh but followed Freddie, giving Roger no more attention.

Roger slowly backed away, trying not to draw any attention to himself. He decided to not join them and instead take a chance and try to track down his mystery girl.

Pushing his way through the thinning crowd, it didn’t take long for him to spot her, surrounded by a group of loud people who seemed to be having the time of their lives. He was almost a bit nervous, which was odd for him, as he walked up to the table. A few people took a long and stared at him, as if they were trying to figure out if he was actually the drummer they had just watched. Nobody stopped him, or commented, and Roger awkwardly stood by the table, waiting for someone to acknowledge him.

“Hey mate, what can we do ya for?” a gruff looking man, probably around Roger’s age asked as he spied the drummer. Roger raised his eyebrows at him, and remained silent as crossed his arms over his chest and, “what’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

“Oy, shut up, James,” another one of the men nudged his friend in the ribs, “that’s the drummer from the band. The one who kept staring at us.”

“Ohh, does he think I’m pretty?” Roger quickly thought about punching the men and starting a fight; it had been a while since he had been in a scrap, and a part of him craved a good fight. But he knew it would look bad upon him, and the rest of the boys, so he controlled himself, letting out a deep breath, “I’m afraid I’m not as pretty as him.”

“The lot of you shut up,” Y/N was quickly growing annoyed by the actions of her friends. Sometimes they were beyond immature, and it drove her crazy, “he hasn’t done anything to warrant you torturing him. Now zip it and let him speak.”

“Sorry, Y/N,” the name that had been identified as James said as he reluctantly agreed to stop his childish behavior, “we were just messing about mate, sorry. I’ll get us another round then.”

“Count me out,” Y/N rolled her eyes at them as she started to get off her stool. The small group of people she was with looked at her, concerned for a moment, before she shook her head, signaling that she would be all right, “I’m going to head out and call it a night.”

“Be careful, love,” her friend said as she leaned over and gave her a hug, “are you sure that you don’t need any help?”

“It’ll be fine, you all need to stop being so dramatic,” she waved off their concern as she turned around and came face to face with Roger. He had stood there, watching the whole awkward exchange silently, “are you going to keep staring or get out of way and walk out with me?”

“I-ugh, I’m Roger,” he said as he stuck out his hand at her. She smiled at him before chuckling at him. She paused for a moment before finally grabbing his hand with both of her hands, “Roger Taylor.”

“I know who you are silly,” she giggled at him and he felt a blush creep up in his cheeks, “I’ve been a fan for a while. And besides that, Freddie or Brian always introduce everyone.”

“Oh right,” he said as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “I always forget...I’m...an absolute idiot, aren’t I?”

“Not at all,” she countered, “I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. I was going to head out, maybe take a walk. Are you interested in joining?”

“Yeah, definitely,” he wasn’t about to pass up spending some time with a pretty girl. She gave him a fond smile, as she started heading for the door of the bar. He noticed she was moving slowly, putting her hands out in front of her slightly. He watched her curiously, but decided not to question. She turned her head back towards him several times almost as if she was checking to make sure he was sill coming.

Relief came in the form of the brisk night air, letting his warm face as he and Y/N stepped onto the street. It was mostly deserted, a few people milling about. Y/N stopped and inhaled deeply, enjoying the smell of the freshly fallen rain from earlier.

“Don’t you just love London in the autumn?” she asked quietly, and he chuckled affectionately at her question. He had known her for all of half an hour, but already there was something stirring inside of him. Someone came walking briskly down the street, not paying attention to where they were going, and slammed into Y/N, causing her to slip and fall onto the slick ground. She landed with a soft ooof as Roger rushed over to her.

“Y/N!” he said as he crouched down and held out his hand to her. She breathed heavily for a moment, closing her eyes before reaching her hands out in front of her and searching for him, “hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m right here.”

“Okay,” she said weakly, her hands found his and he pulled up her, “thank you. Just give me a second to gather my bearings. I need to listen.”

“What do you mean?” he asked confused as she kept her eyes closed. She was a bit strange, something off about her, “is everything okay?”

“Have you...have you not noticed?” she almost couldn’t hold back the slight laugh that was bubbling up in her throat. She wished she could see the expression on Roger’s face as he tried to figure out what she was talking about. She could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“Noticed what?” he asked quietly, growing more worried by the second, “am I missing out on something?”

“I-I hate to...well I don’t hate to tell you, but have you seriously not noticed that I’m blind?” she bit her lip as she waited for his response with baited breath. Most people noticed right away, and didn’t care, but some did and were shocked or repulsed in some way. It wasn’t like being blind was contagious, or a choice, but some people sure treated it like it was.

“Blind?” Roger repeated as he titled his head to the side and she nodded. He studied her, getting a close of a look as possible at her face. She looked just like she did before, beautiful and radiant as anyone he had ever seen. But he looked closer at her eyes, noticing that they appeared to be normal, but she didn’t react to him, her eyes didn’t track him.

“I hope that’s not a huge turn off for you. Or you know, crush any of your hopes and dreams,” she was nervous about what he would say. Most men her age didn’t cast a second glance at her once they found out she was blind, “I know it’s inconvenient...”

“It’s not a turn off and it’s not an inconvenience,” he answered honestly and he could see her face lighten up slightly at his confession. It was like a ripple of relief ran through her whole body, “it’s not something you chose. and you clearly don’t let it hold you back.”

“I never had a choice,” she admitted as she reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his as she started walking down the street, making sure to take it slowly, “I was born this way. I’ve lived my whole life like this. All I can see is some light variations, the rest is all...well you can imagine. Not much. So, I’m sorry I can’t confirm if you’re as pretty as my friends say you are. But I’m sure they’re not wrong.”

“I...I don’t know about all of that,” he said, feeling flattered and like he was under her microscope. He wanted her approval; she was one of the only girls not talking to him just because of his looks, “I’m just...Rog. I don’t know.”

“Don’t undersell yourself,” she nudged him gently in his side, “what do you look like? Tell me. Or let me find out...”

“How would you find out?” he asked and she stopped abruptly. He skidded to a stop and she turned her body so she was facing him. He remained silent as Y/N reached up and put her hands on the sides of her cheeks and lightly ran her fingers over his features. If it had been almost anyone else, he would have flinched away, but under her soft touch, he felt electric. The smile on her face grew the longer she ghosted her fingers over his face and along his jawline.

“You are pretty,” she confirmed and they both chuckled, “but let me guess...blonde...blue eyes, soft lips, and a distinct nose.”

“You’re good...right on the money,” he confessed and she pumped her fist triumphantly. Deciding to be bold. he ventured out and said, “you’re very pretty yourself.”

“Thank you...that’s very sweet. Can I ask you something?” she said asked, swinging their clasped hands together. He nodded affirmatively, but realized she couldn’t see it, so he agreed verbally, “what was up with your playing tonight? You seemed a bit off today.”

“How could you tell? Was it that bad?” he was shy all of a sudden, embarrassed that what he thought wasn’t too noticeable indeed actually was, “I..I..”

“I don’t think it was obvious to most people,” she shrugged lightly, “I just happened to notice. I can’t see you, so I happen to be a good listener. I like to think of it as 20/20 hearing. Besides that I study music. It’s what I went to school for.”

“Impressive,” he admitted, “do you play anything?”

“I’m a pianist,” she admitted as she slowly came to a stop in front of what he presumed was her apartment building, “I play and teach. It’s a pretty sweet gig. I don’t have to see people but I get to hear the sweet sounds of music instead.”

“You’ll have to play for me sometime,” he teased her and she immediately shook her her head. The idea of playing for someone like Roger Taylor gave her goosebumps. What would he say? Would he even like her playing? “come on, love, you’ve gotten to hear me play! It’s only fair.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Rog. You do this for a living, and I’m just a small time piano teacher,” she explained but he just scoffed at her, “aww, come on!”

“The fact that I do it for a living is besides the point. You’re going to play for me, I’m going to hold you to it,” he said as he leaned closer to her, the space between their bodies slowly becoming nonexistent.

“Fine,” she reluctantly gave in, but the smile on her face never disappeared, “but when it’s so bad it makes you want to cry, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You’re so dramatic! Freddie’s going to love you,” he exclaimed.

“Oh, so you’re going to introduce me to your friends?” she liked the sound of that; it made this seem so much better. Like it wasn’t a one and done kind of deal. There was something about Roger that was different - he didn’t treat her like a social pariah, rather like a normal person, “does that mean I get to see you again?”

“I’d very much like that, Y/N,” he said, getting close enough to her so that his breath was gently fanning across her face, “if you’d like to see me again.”

“Yes,” he breathed in quietly. His heart was beating so rapidly in his chest. he was sure she could hear it. She leaned closer to him, putting her hand on his cheek, before she closed the remaining gap and pressing her lips against his. He was shocked for a moment, but once he realized what was going on, he put his hands on her waist and kissed her back eagerly. The two of them only pulled apart when the two of them were out of breath.

“Wow,” was all she said as he rested his forehead against hers. He chuckled at her, although he too had a smile on his face, “for a pretty boy, you’re not too bad of a kisser.”

“I’ll take that a compliment,” he said, pretending to be hurt, “if you don’t want to do that again, I mean...”

“Shut up, you knobhead,” she said as she playfully slapped his chest. she paused for a moment, biting her lip before throwing caution to the wind, “do you want to come inside? I can show you some of my playing.”

“At this hour?” he said as rolled her eyes at him. He took a glance at the watch on his wrist and saw that it was nearing midnight.

“I didn’t say what kind of playing I was referring to,” she said as she reached for his hand as she pulled him towards her apartment, “but I promise I’ll show my piano.”

“Oh,” he said as he eagerly follow her. It took him a moment before realization set in, “Oh!”

“Come on drummer boy,” she giggled at him and he took the lead, opening the door for her. She wouldn’t normally do this with just anyone, but something about him was different and told her to just do it. Something told her that Roger Taylor was that someone that she needed in her life.

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mirkwoodshewolf · 6 years

Text

A family torn apart; Queen x reader

Okay wow guys. I’m just gonna tell you right now, I hope you enjoyed the last Brian May oneshot fic I posted up because this is gonna have some SERIOUS angst in here so that’s one other reason why I posted that fic a few days ago before this next part of Rock Angel.

So expect strong language, PURE ANGST, some fluff, and insults.

Okay so I will leave it as that and let you all enjoy this and just in case, I have some tissues for you all. Trust me, you’re going to need them.

Taglist *open*:

@mr-badguymercury

@onebigfangirlworld

@phantom-fangirl-stuff

@labessieisallama

@starswin

@dj-lowkey

@isabella-bby

@naturalswifty89

@alexfayer

@5sos-wdw

__________________________________________________________

*March 22nd, 1984*

I was walking through the studio along with Jack as we headed up to Miami’s office. Once we reached it I knocked on the door and we both heard his voice say.

“Come in.” I opened the door and I said as I peeked in through the door.

“Hey Jim, hope we didn’t come at a bad time.”

“None at all darling come in, I was just reorganizing some things for the lads and I just got done settling your stuff.” I walked into his office and Jack soon followed behind me. Jim acknowledged my fiancée and Jack greeted Jim back with a handshake. We both took our seats and Jim said. “What can I do for you both?” Jack and I exchanged looks and I couldn’t help the smile coming across my face as Jack proceeded.

“Well Jim. As you know after the tour ended last month (y/n) and I have been busy planning the wedding before her next recording deal by around the fall. We figured we needed to have the wedding as soon as possible so, we finally picked a date and location and we’ve made all the invitations.”

“All morning Jack and I have been going door to door of everyone I knew in England of who I would like to see at the wedding. Hand delivering their letters personally just so that I would be sure they wouldn’t get lost in the mail transaction. So,” I explained as I took out from my purse a small white envelope with a salmon pink tie wrapped around it and a traditional wax seal.

I handed it over to Jim and he took it from me and untied the ribbon and broke the seal and fully opened the envelope to reveal a beautifully designed wedding invitation that read.

You’ve been cordially invited.

And when he opened it up it would read as followed;

To the Wedding of Jack and (Y/n) Kline

Date: July 12th, 1984

Location: Kline Family Ranch. 50421 Jackson Av. Lebanon, Kansas 66952. USA

Reservations by, May 20th, 1984.

“We’d really appreciate it if you could come to the wedding Jim.” Jack said. Jim looked at us and he said.

“No other artist would think to invite their managers to their weddings.”

“Yeah most would, however every artist isn’t the Rock Angel. Jim without you….and I really do mean this, none of this would be possible. It’s because of you Jack and I met each other. Had it not been for you accepting my application as your intern, I’d still be a college student still grieving over a broken heart because of her stupid wanker of an ex. I would never have gone to that club, and Jack would never have saved me. If anyone deserves to be at our wedding, it’s you Jim Beach.”

He may not have known it or maybe he did but I could see tears forming in Jim’s eyes right there behind his desk. He blinked away the tears trying to compose himself and he said as we reached out for each other’s hands.

“I’ll clear my calendar for the big day.”

“Thank you Jim.” I said. I stood up and walked around his desk to give him a big, warm hug. He hugged me back and I pecked his cheek and now Jack and I left his office to now visit the next four boys that still needed invites.

We piled back in the car and I told Louis the address of where we needed to go next. As we drove Jack said to me.

“So what music video are the guys filming again?”

“It’s for a new song that Deacy wrote. I think it’s called Break free or something along those lines.”

“Now you sure we should hand deliver these invitations specifically to the guys?”

“Yes. I want to make sure that they don’t get lost or tampered with. Especially by a certain snake in the grass that’s been a thorn in my side for years.” I muttered the last part to myself teeth gritted. “Trust me darling, plus it’s been awhile since we’ve seen the guys. After all I flew with you to America to approve of the scenery of your family farm for the wedding once the tour was done.”

“I swear it’s like you love those boys more than me.” Jack teased.

“Oh and what about you and Deacy hmm? You both always got cozy with each other after bass practice hmm? Hmm?” Jack pulled me close and lightly tickled my sides which made me shriek and laugh. As quick as he made the attack, he stopped and I turned to face him and we both leaned into each other and kissed.

When we finally arrived at Limehouse studio and got the approval from security knowing of my business of being there, Jack and I were allowed inside the studio and were escorted to the set. There were people in black and white cow patterned leotards so I began thinking that whatever it was that they were shooting, it’d be interesting.

“Can I get up now? What is happening?” I heard Roger’s voice nearby and when Jack and I finally arrived around to the main set, I almost died laughing right then and there.

The set was like a 1950’s style living room and lying on the couch were Roger who was curled into Deacy’s lap while Brian was sitting behind Deacy almost lying across the top of the couch. But that’s not why it was so hilarious, what was hilarious was that they were all done up in drag.

Brian was wearing a red robe and I could see peeking out of it a pink nightgown. He had fake curlers in his hair along with the pinkest and fluffiest bunny slippers I have ever seen. Deacy was all done up as a grumpy granny, sorta reminded me of my grandma (God rest her soul). A grey wig, an all-black attire and I could clearly see the granny makeup all over his face.

And oh my god Roger—he was done up as this sext school girl with the black pantyhose, short black skirt, and white shirt with a pink and yellow stripped tie. He had a wavy blonde wig with two black and white spotted bowties as well as a sunhat.

Hell he looked so convincing, I thought that he wasn’t even a part of this music video.

“No you can’t.” Deacy’s voice said as he started rocking and cradling Roger like a baby. All three of them were laughing and just having a blast with this as Brian then said.

“I wanna be in it.”

“Get off me!” Deacy cried out. I came around behind them and said.

“How rude of me to forget. Jack my love I have neglected to introduce the rest of my family.” The three of them turned our way and I couldn’t help the wide smile on my face. I tried to hold in my laughs as I came up and said as I stood by Brian. “This is my aunt Brianna.” I then moved over to John and took his hat off his head and placed it on top of mine, “My lovely granny Jane, and of course the trouble maker of the family. My beautiful yet dangerous cousin Rogerina.”

“Hi Jack.” They all greeted like the girls they were dressed as. And I could tell by Jack’s wide open mouth, he was shocked.

“Close your mouth please Jack we are not a codfish.” Deacy lectured him like a real granny would. Jack immediately closed his mouth and I awed at him and said as I walked up to him and put my arms around his neck and pecked his cheek.

“Aww don’t you worry sweetie. It’s all just a bit of fun, you’ll get used to it. Now tell them they look pretty less you want to hurt their feelings.” He stammered for a while till I gave him a light nudge in the ribs and he finally spat out.

“You all look g-great!”

“Thank you Jack.” Said Brian.

“I don’t think he means it. Just great, come on I’m the sexy one of the family. I deserve my spotlight!” Roger proclaimed out.

“Oi! Don’t go stealing my man you slut!” I teased at Roger.

“Please, I am sooo out of his league.” Roger bragged as he tossed aside the right part of his hair. I rolled my eyes playfully at him and said getting serious now.

“Okay I have to ask; whose idea was it to dress in drag?” Immediately both Deacy and Bri pointed to Roger who was still lying across Deacy’s lap. I let out a laugh and Roger said.

“What? It’s a good idea!”

“But as Coronation street? Serious? That show is for old people. No one even watches that show anymore. No one will get it except for the grannies that still watch the show.” He rolled his eyes at me and I continued, “Besides all that, you all really do look fantastic. Especially you Rog, you look so convincing I honestly thought you weren’t even here. Why must you be more beautiful than me?”

“Aww lovey~” Roger stood up and took me away from Jack and wrapped his arms around me swaying me from side to side. “You know that out of the two of us, you are the fairest of them all. Don’t you agree Jack?”

“No question about it.” He answered.

“See? You don’t have to worry about a thing love, now let me hear you say it.”

“I’m beautiful.” I muttered in a whisper.

“I’m sorry what was that?” Roger said.

“I’m beautiful.”

“Speak up love, I still can’t here you. If you don’t admit that you are the most gorgeous girl in the world then I’ll make you say it.”

Before I could even respond, I was attacked by wet, frantic kisses. I let out a cry as I tried to get away from Roger but he held an ironclad grip on my as he kept covering my right cheek with kisses. And if I tried to turn away, he’d switch sides and soon my left cheek was attacked by kisses.

“Okay! Okay I’m beautiful you happy!?” I finally surrendered.

“Yes, and don’t you ever forget it.” Roger said as he leaned his head against mine and pecked my temple. When he finally let me go, I took notice that his lip gloss was now smeared and I said.

“Oh great now the makeup department’s gonna be pissed.”

“Ahh don’t worry about it, you were worth it.” He said as he lovingly bopped my nose making me smile and shake my head.

“Not that we’re not happy to see you both here for this surprise visit but why have you both come here? I thought you all still had wedding plans to handle?” asked Brian.

“We’ve gotten most of the big things taken care of. But (y/n) thought it would be best to hand deliver these personally to everyone she knows.” I then finally took out the three invitations for Brian, Deacy and Rog.

I handed them each their individual invitations and they opened it up and they all read it.

“So soon?” said Brian.

“Well you know the life or a Rockstar Bri. Album, tour, album, tour, press interviews, concerts. By the start of the Autumn I’ll be booked solid for over a year. So Jack and I made the decision to get it over with before we run out of time. Besides we’re not making it too big, just really close friends and family members only and you all have seen the farm last Christmas, it’s a perfect spot for a wedding.”

“I do have to say it was beautiful. I think it’ll be perfect.” Said Deacy. I smiled and said.

“Hey, do any of you know where Fred is, I have to give him his invitation and I want to ask you four something.”

“Well he was over by his makeup stand getting undressed. But I’d be careful if I were you (y/n). He…..he’s been a bit…..” Brian tried to explain.

“No need, I heard about that freak out at the last press conference you guys had. Roger please tell me that…..he’s not here.”

“If I did I’d be lying and you know I can never lie to you.” I sighed deeply and muttered.

“Okay,” I turned towards the makeup chairs and I said to Jack. “You just stay here with the guys, I’ll deal with this.”

“You sure?” I nodded and pecked him on the lips and walked towards Freddie. When I saw him sitting in his makeup chair I knocked at the empty table beside him and said.

“Knock, knock.” Freddie turned towards me and his eyes sparked up as he said.

“(Y/n) my Rock Angel.” He stood up and we both kissed each other’s cheeks and he asked me, “How’s the wedding preparations coming along dear? Have you picked out your dress yet?”

“Not yet Fred, I haven’t even picked my bridesmaids yet. We’re just getting the big stuff done before all that other minor details.”

“Well I’m sure the wedding will be lovely, when’s the big day?”

“Actually—”

“Freddie we should be….” we both turned and there stood Paul. The split second he saw me, his body tensed up and he strained out my name. “(Y/n).”

“Prenter.” I softly sneered his name as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I thought you were in America?”

“Oh I was. I came for some business that aren’t meant for roaches but I guess you can never truly get rid of them, can you?” All with Roger’s help all those years ago, I finally was able to not take any of Paul’s crap.

After the humiliation he did to me by revealing my family secret, he’s taught me the best way to poke at Paul Prenter is to show him the inner lioness strength I’ve always had in me. Make him feel like the prey.

“Well that’s just grand news.” He said trying to ignore my jab at him. I quirked my brow at him and said to Fred.

“Anyways I wanted to give you your official invitation.”

“You could’ve given it to me, you know I would’ve passed the message along.” Paul piped in. I turned towards Paul and glared at him and said.

“I’m sure you would’ve but I don’t trust my mail to trash.” I dug through my purse and handed Freddie the last invitation I had. Freddie himself took it and opened it up and read it.

“Ohh I absolutely love it darling, their farm was so beautiful it’s the perfect spot for the wedding!”

“I think so too. Now come with me I have an announcement for you and the lads.”

“Oh my god you’re pregnant!”

“What no! We haven’t even said the I do’s Freddie.”

“Doesn’t matter. With the way Jack looks at you I’d assume you two crazy kiddies have already done the deed before the big day.” I rolled my eyes and said as I took Freddie’s hand.

“C’mon you let’s get to the others.” I led him away and Paul called out.

“Can’t it wa—”

“Nope!” I interrupted him. We finally came up to the guys and immediately Roger shot up and said.

“Did I just hear Freddie say you’re pregnant?!”

“No! Rog it’s not true. Nothing’s happened yet.” I said to him.

“Alright, because Jack I swear if you knocked her up before the wedding, I’ll kill you.”

“Okay, okay calm down papa lion, no need to get aggressive just yet.” Deacy said as he placed a hand to his shoulder.

“Okay. Now that all my boys are together, will you all please sit down?” They all gathered around the couch as Jack and I stood close together. “Guys, as you probably know the tradition of the bride is to walk down the aisle with her father. And since the accident I—I don’t really have a legal family member to walk with me. Which is why I wanted to ask you, all of you…..if you four would be willing to walk me down the aisle and give me away to Jack?”

My boys looked at me in shock and Freddie said.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t cry when the day would come when you’d ask that.” Jack and I laughed softly and that’s when Brian spoke up.

“We’d be honored (y/n).”

“You can count on us.” Said Deacy with a warm smile. I then turned to Roger and said his name softly. He silently stood up and walked towards me. He cupped my face in his hands before finally embracing me as tight as he could.

“Of course darling. I’m so happy you asked us.” Once again he pecked all over my face with kisses which made me laugh. When he finally stopped with a soft kiss to the tip of my nose, he turned to Jack and said. “Jack Kline, you better take care of this woman because if you don’t I will steal her back and take her away from that wedding.”

“Don’t worry Roger, the day I stop loving (y/n) is the day that hell freezes over.”

It was at that moment I thought everything would be okay. The wedding was scheduled, the invitations had been sent out, the location all set up. I wished that things could’ve stayed that happy, I didn’t need anymore stress because of all the wedding preparations.

But as we know, real life doesn’t work like that. It’s always a shit show and it will always knock you off your feet just when you think things are going well.

It was just a couple weeks after Queen had released their Music video “I want to break free”, but in America MTV had banned their music video because of the drag idea. Jack who was back home getting things settled at his place while I had some business in England to take care had called and told me of what had happened.

So without even thinking I drove off the Freddie’s place at Garden Lodge on my bike and it was there I saw two cars. My best guess is that the whole band was together talking about this. I almost felt like I was intruding on the band’s private discussion about their work.

But first and foremost they are my boys, not Queen to me and I felt like I had the right to be there to show some support. So parking my bike next to Deacy’s Volvo, I set my helmet in the compartment and walked up to the door and rang it.

Opening it up was the last person I ever wanted to see. Paul.

“(Y/n).” he sneered my name.

“Paul, can I see the guys?”

“Oh I’m sorry (y/n) but this is a band discussion they’re having right now. They have no time for you.”

“Hold it Prenter!” Roger’s voice soon echoed through the house. Soon coming into the frame was Roger as he said. “Hey love,”

“Hey. I—heard about what happened with the video.”

“Yeah it happens what else can you do. Come on in.”

“But she’s not a member of the band.” Paul piped in as Roger allowed me inside.

“If you’re allowed to be involved with our meetings, then so is she. She’s just as much a part of Queen as anyone else.” Roger said as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and guided me toward the dining room.

There I saw the rest of the boys. Freddie was standing by his grand fireplace, Brian was on the couch in front of the large wooden desk, and Deacy was on the other couch right in front of the door. Bri and Deacy welcomed me in a soft chorus of hello’s while Freddie’s posture showed that he was beyond peeved.

“Hey guys.” I greeted them.

“Have a seat love.” Roger said as he gestured towards the couch that Deacy was on. I walked over and Deacy moved some of the pillows aside and I got comfortable while Roger went back to sit in the empty chair that stood between the two ends of the couches.

“As I was saying it’s America. The puritans in public, perverts in private.” Brian said.

“I’m never touring in the US again.” Freddie snapped out before scoffing out, “And I’m the one being blamed for it. Not you dear whose idea I believe it was to dress up in drag. Nor you, not even you who wrote the bloody thing.” He said pointing out to Roger for the idea, then to Brian and finally Deacy who wrote the song. “No, crazy cross dressing Freddie. Freddie the Freak, Freddie the Fag.” He said as he moved from the fireplace to the grand window behind his desk.

As he now stood by the window he turned towards the guys and said.

“I’m tired of touring aren’t you? Album tour album tour. I want to do something different.”

“We’re a band that’s what bands do. Album, tour. Album, tour.” Brian said before Freddie interrupted him and turned his back on us.

“Well I need a break. I’m sick of it.”

“What are you saying Freddie?” asked Deacy. He said not a word but lit himself a cigarette. It was silent for god knows how long before Freddie finally spoke up.

“I’ve signed a deal. With CBS records.”

“You’ve done what?” asked Roger in shock.

“Without telling us.” Stated Brian.

“What kind of deal?” asked Deacy.

“Look I’m not saying we won’t ever record or tour again. Queen will go on. But I—I need to do something different, do you know what I mean? I-I-I need to grow. What’s the song, fly away?” Deacy knowing what he was meaning said to Freddie.

“Spread my wings and fly away.”

“Spread my wings and fly away.” Freddie said in a light ‘that’s it’ kind of tone.

“So you’re doing a solo album?” I finally spoke up.

“Two actually. Back to back. More than the work you’ve put into your own work.” Paul said to me who was sitting in the corner like the shadow he’s always been.

“Talk to my daughter like that again, and I’ll throw you out the bloody window!” Roger sneered.

Now while Roger did try to work on some solo works, at least he told the guys in advance but in the end he said it wasn’t the same without the guys. He said the other band he did try to get wasn’t quite right just yet so he dropped the solo deal and stayed along with Queen.

“But that’s years Freddie. I mean….that’ll take years.” Deacy tried to reason with him.

“Ye have little faith.” Freddie boasted softly.

“I just I don’t believe this.” Roger said as he faced Freddie. “How much?” We all looked at him and he just stared back at us for a brief second before turning away going back to his smoke. “What did they pay you?!” Roger demanded again. We all waited for Freddie to answer but he didn’t. Finally Roger stood up and snapped, “I wanna know how much they paid you!”

“Four million dollars!” Freddie exclaimed as he turned back around to face Roger.

Oh God…… I brushed through my hair not imagining how much money that was. The boys and I couldn’t believe this.

“That’s more than any Queen deal.” Hell it’s more than any Rock Angel deal, and I get half of what Queen gets.

“Look the routine is killing us, I mean you all must want a break from all the arguments. Whose song gets on the album. Whose songs the single? Who wrote what? Who gets the bigger slice of the royalties, what’s on the B-side all of it. You must need a break.” Freddie tried to reason with the guys.

While it is true that even back then I have seen first hand of their arguments, hell I nearly got a beer glass thrown at me by a drunk Freddie once, but it was the fights that brought them together and still made them the best band in the world. They’re family, my family.

“Freddie. We’re a family.” Brian said but Freddie snapped, his voice choked up and I swore I thought I could see tears in his eyes.

“No we’re not! We’re not a family. You’ve got families. Children! Wives! A fiancé! What have I got?!”

“You’ve got four million dollars perhaps you can buy yourself a family.” Deacy’s solemn quick wit spoke up. Freddie turned his back on us as he said.

“I won’t compromise my vision any longer.” Is he for real here? Roger who was now standing behind me after all of this said.

“Compromise? Are you joking? You were working at Heathrow before we gave you a chance!” It was then Freddie turned around and said as he came around towards us pointing directly at Roger.

“And without me….you’d—you’d be a dentist. Drumming 12-8 times blues at the weekend at the Crown and Anchor. And you,” he then gestured and looked down at Brian as he continued in a mocked praised tone before finally ending it bluntly, “Well, you would be Dr. Brian May. Author of a fascinating dissertation on the cosmos….that no one ever reads.” He then turned his attention to Deacy and what he had said to him, hurt me the most, “And Deacy, for the life of me…..nothing comes to mind.” Deacy who tried to brush his pain aside said proudly but I could hear the pain in his voice.

“I studied electrical engineering. Does that meet your standard?”

“It’s perfect.” Scoffed Freddie. He doused out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table in front of Deacy and I. Just before he left I finally had enough of this crap so I stood up and grabbed his arm and said.

“Freddie, this isn’t you! You’re not thinking clearly. Paul’s done something to you, why can’t you see that?! He’s pulling you away from what’s right in front of you with lies.” Freddie then turned to me and took back his arm and said in fake praise.

“And you, (Y/n) (m/n) (l/n).” He held onto my biceps tightly and shook me a couple of times as he said my name. I pushed his hands off me as he continued, “The Rock Angel, wouldn’t have even existed without me. Everything you’ve become, was because of me. I got you up on that stage, not you. You’ve always needed someone to back you up because you couldn’t fight your own battles. You always need someone to do your dirty work for you, don’t you? The true snake in the grass of Queen was you. Everything you are is because of us. If not for us, you’d probably be a failed music teacher with a cheating boyfriend because she was too foolish to realize that no one could love her like she wanted to. You may think you’re a lioness, but deep down you will always be that shy, scared, little orphan—”

Breathing sharply, my chest rising heavily and hearing him say the exact words my aunt would say to me everyday for years. But it was when he called me an orphan that a loud slap echoed through the room. Tears stung in my eyes but I refused to cry in front of him.

“If that’s how you really thought of me? Then why the hell would you give me a chance?” Freddie rubbed his cheek and said before staring me down.

“Call it pity.” He stated bluntly. My body tensed up and I sneered at him.

“I don’t even know why I looked up to you in the first place. Goodbye Freddie Mercury, I hope that you are struck down in the worst possible way. And I swear to god I better not see you in my life again. Consider your wedding invitation invalid. And if you do show up, I’ll kill you myself.” With that I trudged out of his house and got on my bike without my helmet this time and raced back to my house.

The second I got home, I burst through my door and threw my helmet aside and my breathing was shallow and frantic, almost as if I were having an asthma attack.

I walked through my hallways to see all my vinyl posters of both Queen and one of our combined albums. We’ve made I stood in front of a poster that had both Freddie and I together with mics in our hands looking like two singers in their element.

I leaned up against the other wall and bent forward choking on my breaths before I suddenly snapped.

I punched the poster breaking the glass covering as I let out the most furious scream. I punched the poster a couple more times before taking it off the wall and slamming it down to the ground destroying it.

I then moved to the next one which was of Queen’s Greatest hits vol.1. I picked that poster up and destroyed that as well. I punched, kicked did whatever I could to release all the anger I had inside me. Hell I even punched and kicked the walls themselves, and I guess I must’ve punched one part of the wall so hard that it actually made a dent in the foundation.

I don’t know how long I was at it for, but soon all 12 of my vinyl glass posters were destroyed, glass completely covered the floor of the entire hallway and I was at the end, my right hand bleeding profusely and trembling, my toes aching probably because I might have broken a toe or two. I probably looked like a rapid animal that had just gotten done with its tantrum and was now a trembling shadow in the corner. Soon I blacked out.

*3rd Person POV*

After (y/n) had left Garden Lodge, Brian, Roger and Deacy were almost about to go off on Freddie for what he had said to (y/n). Never did they think he’d say the things that they’ve heard not to mention actually witness what her aunt has said to her for most of her life. But Freddie brushed it off like it was nothing and continued to walk out.

“You just killed Queen. And I swear I’ll make you regret for what you just said to her.” Roger said as he turned towards Freddie.

“Oh give it a kiss one day, she might wake up.” Freddie simply stated.

“You need us Freddie. More than you know.” Brian said.

“I don’t need anyone.” He said as he didn’t look his bandmates in the eye. And with that Freddie walked away. Paul followed behind and placed his hand on Roger’s shoulder almost trying to comfort him but Roger immediately brushed his hand away as the three members of Queen just sat there.

“Come on, let’s go check on our girl.” Said Deacy. Brian and Roger agreed and soon the three of them left Fred’s house and piling in their cars. Roger went into the passenger seat of Brian’s car and Deacy went into his Volvo and the two cars pulled out of Freddie’s place and took off for (y/n)’s.

When they arrived, they first noticed that the door was still wide opened. This made them all panic as their parental instincts kicked in as the three of them raced across the front yard, up the stairs and into her house.

“(Y/n)?” Roger called out.

“(Y/n) are you here? I’ll check her studio downstairs.” Brian said.

“I’ll take the hallway.” Said Deacy.

“I’ll take the upstairs, she might be in her room.” The three of them split up and stared checking everywhere in order to find her. Then when Deacy finally arrived at the hallway where she kept all her poster boards and records hanging, the first thing he saw was the trail of glass. He raced towards the entrance of the hallway and there he found (y/n) lying there on the floor surrounded by glass.

But what scared him the most was the blood he could see not only from some of the glass on the floor, but from her hands.

“Brian! Brian Roger!! Get over here I’ve found her!!” Immediately you could hear the thunder of footsteps racing towards Deacy and the second they saw her they were both shocked.

“Oh my god.” Brian said in shock.

“Jesus Christ (y/n)! (Y/n)!” Roger was the first to race down the hall. Glass crunching underneath his shoes as he raced to his daughter. Fear and anxiety gnawed at him every second as it felt like eternity just to reach her. When he finally knelt down in front of her, he brushed away the madded hair from her face and quickly checked her pulse, fearing that the blood from her hands was too much and that she could be dead.

Fortunately he felt a strong pulse.

“Oh thank god, she’s still alive.”

“Probably just passed out, but her hands do look bad. I’ll call a doctor and have them come over and take a look at her.” Said Deacy as he and Brian now stood behind him. Deacy left to find her house phone meanwhile Brian carefully picked (y/n) up and he and Roger looked at each other worriedly and walked out of the hallway.

Upstairs in her room, a doctor was bandaging up her hands after cleaning up the blood and taking out the small pieces of glass that were actually stuck in her hands. In total for both hands, she had only 4 pieces of glass in her hands, the rest were because of scratches and bruises from punching the walls.

Deacy, Brian and Roger stood by the door worried out of their minds as the doctor finished up. As he walked up to the three band members Brian asked.

“Will she be okay doctor?”

“Amazingly there were only 4 glass pieces in her hands, they weren’t very large pieces but they weren’t exactly pebble sized. But her hands will be okay, given time and rest.” The boys sighed in huge relief and Deacy said.

“We appreciate you coming Doctor.”

“Anytime, just apply this ointment to her hands every four hours, keep them bandaged for about a week or two and hopefully the scars should be gone.” The doctor said as he held out a medium sized tube of antiseptic ointment.

“Thank you.” Thanked Brian. The doctor nodded and then left the household. The boys all stood around and just watched as (y/n) continued to be unconscious but thankfully still alive.

“I can’t believe he said those things to her. He knew hell we all witnessed to what she had to go through with her aunt! How could he say those things to her!?” Roger snapped.

“Roger we’re not any happier than you are but we can’t focus on that right now. She needs us, now more than ever. Who knows what’s going on in her mind right now.” Brian tried to calm him down.

“I’ll get in touch with Jack later on and tell him everything that’s going on. Maybe we can fly him out here and he can help us out with her.” Deacy said.

“Yeah I’ll even pay for the flight. For now let’s just let her sleep and hopefully she’ll wake up soon.” Said Brian. Reluctantly the boys left the master bedroom and they both waited downstairs and Deacy called Jack up hoping that he hadn’t already gone to bed.

*My POV*

I was tossing and turning as my breathing was heavy. I moaned in agony as I could hear voices in my head.

I was surrounded in darkness running and running in nothing but an empty blackness. I could hear the voices of my aunt, uncle, Adam and Paul all mocking me. Telling me that I wasn’t worth it.

‘You’re a disgrace to this family!’

‘Why must you always be so clingy?’

‘You’re useless!’

‘We never should’ve taken pity on you.’ It was then I saw four silhouettes just ahead of me. As I got closer, it turned out that the four men standing before me with their backs turned were the four members of Queen.

‘Guys? Guys please make them stop! I….I can’t deal with this anymore, please help me.’ Freddie was the first to turn around and he said.

‘Why should we help a spoiled orphan like you?’ It was then Brian turned around and said.

‘You’re always whining about everything. Frankly it’s starting to get annoying. You’re not very subtle when it comes to your clinginess.’ I couldn’t believe it.

Even Brian was agreeing with Freddie.

‘No, no please Deacy, Rog please tell me you guys will help me.’

‘I agree with Freddie. Why should we help you? You’re always coming to us with your teenage drama. I don’t see how we ever put up with you all these years.’ Deacy said in the cold tone that he rarely used unless he really hated someone or needed to be sarcastic towards the press.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! This can’t be happening. I suddenly felt myself sinking into the floor and that’s when Roger finally turned around and I begged to him.

‘Please Roger. Please don’t do this to me.’

‘Why should I? I don’t get why I ever called you my daughter. Your father’s not proud of you, he never was. And neither was I.’ Soon darkness overcame me as I felt myself drowning in what almost seemed like water or goo. I could barely breathe as the voices of Queen kept throwing backlashes and insults my way.

“No….no! Please! Please stop it! Help me…..help me!”

“(Y/n). (Y/n) wake up!” I suddenly shot up and soon standing over me on my bed was Brian. “It’s okay, it’s okay you’re okay.” I was panting hysterically and I said.

“B-Brian?”

“Yes, it’s me. You were having a nightmare……” before he could even finish I tackled him in a hug and wept into his shoulder.

“It was awful! My aunt, uncle, Adam and Paul were taunting me and then you guys….you guys started telling me how useless I was. How I was too clingy and calling me an orphan and….”

“Hey, hey.” He tried to soothe me but my sobbed rambling continued.

“I never meant to be clingy I just thought I finally had a family that I could call my own but I guess I was wrong. Soon you guys will grow tired of me too, as will Jack and I’ll be all alone again. Just like I’ve always been ever since I was 8 years old.”

“That is never going to happen, okay (Y/n), hey look at me darling.” I tried to look away but Brian had his hand under my chin and he cupped under my chin gingerly and slowly turned my head around to look up at him. “You are never, ever, ever going to be alone again. Okay? Jack he loves you beyond reason and doubt. He was willing to come to the biggest rock group in the world just to ask for our permission to marry you. Other lads probably wouldn’t have done that and just asked you right then and there. As for Roger, Deacy and myself. You couldn’t be anymore wrong. We would never grow tired of you.”

“Yes you will.” I whined out.

“No we won’t.” He assured me as his thumbs wiped away my tears.

“Yes you will because Freddie made it clear of how he felt. So what’s to stop you three from doing the same?” I let out a sob as I said, “But before you do I just want to thank you. For always being the voice of reason to me for so long.” Brian shook his head and brought my head above his heart as he held me tightly.

I sniffled as he said to me.

“You’re talking nonsense darling. You are loved. You are loved by us, you are a sister and daughter to us. Freddie he—he was a total prick for saying those things to you. And whatever it was that we said in your dream, was false. Okay please look into my eyes and tell me if I’m lying to you.” I looked up at him and saw the tears filling up in his eyes as they looked down at my sadly but still held the strength and love he’d always shown me.

I leaned against his chest again as I sniffled while Brian wrapped his arms around me stroking down my hair and rubbing my back in soothing circles.

“I’m sorry Bri, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, no, no, no. You have nothing to apologize for love, okay? Nothing.” I choked out a sob as I clung onto his shirt tighter and he held onto my tighter. He kissed the crown of my head and I heard him say, “Do you want me to call Deacy and Roger up here?”

“Later, I just—I need my Brian right now.” I whimpered out as I looked up at him with my sad, teary eyes. I practically looked like a sobbing child, but that didn’t stop Brian. He placed his head on top of mine, his curls gently tickling my face as he said.

“I’m here love, I’m right here. Your Brian is here, and he always will be.” I felt him kiss all over my head as he never once loosened his embrace on me.

As I lay there in Brian’s arms, he softly sung ‘39 to me. A song that I would sometimes ask him to sing when it was just to two of us because that song for some reason always brought me comfort. As he softly kept singing the words softly to me, my eyes soon drooped once more as exhaustion finally took over me from all the crying.

My body relaxed and I finally felt at peace with Brian’s singing.

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sammyspreadyourwings · 5 years

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Can I have some Fem!Poly!Queen(King) smuts with slight D/s elements please? The other three girls taking turns holding Brianna down and going down on her to see how many times she can come for one night reducing her to an incoherent begging mess by the end? Thanks darling. (If you're uncomfortable with writing gender bent then just proceed with the usual poly Queen then :D)

I write better smut between males, and I figure that the first time I really write fem!queen it shouldn’t be smut. So we have the usual. Enjoy!

Smut warning!!

Brian doesn’t remember the last time he formed a word.He doesn’t even know how long it’s been since they’ve begun.

The logical part of his brain that’s always hyper of everythingtells him that since Roger, who has the longest refractory period of themall, has got it up twice it’s nearing three hours.

He gasps as aforementioned drummer ghosts a puff ofhot hair over his head. Brian whines, and when Roger goes back down it’s almosttoo much. Which is absolutely perfect for him. John leans down in his field of vision,flushed and aroused, but clearly concerned.

“Color?”

“Green.”

Brian’s surprised at the force that the word came outwith. Clearly John is too, judging by the laugh he gets in response. There’s aslow burn in his stomach, and when Roger sucks he can’t warn him. That seemedto be Roger’s goal because he pulls off with a satisfied smirk. Wiping spittleoff with the back of his hand.

He leans up and kisses Brian soundly, twisting theirtongues together. One of Roger’s hands drifts downward, and between tastinghimself and the stimulation, Brian feels his dick twitch in interest. Roger pullsoff and grins.

“Seriously, Bri? After four, you’re still going?”

Brian offers a slightly drunk smile. It’s a weird quirkof his biology certainly, but it only seems to encourage his boys further.Freddie pops over from where he had been lounging, stroking himself to full hardnessagain. Roger takes John’s place, holding his arms above his head. He watches asa bead of sweat vanishes into Roger’s collarbone.

John steals another kiss, before rolling over intowhat they call the rest zone. Brian’s mouth waters at John’s half hardness. Freddie’shand surprises him, it’s colder than he would expect.

Freddie gives him an apologetic smile before sinkingall the way to Brian’s base. The tongue is right there on the point ofpleasure in pain.

Brian twists, careful to not thrust into Freddie. Hishands clawing for purchase and his shoulders flexing. Roger grins and leansforward. He really can’t get away, and the fight leaves him. Sinking back andusing Roger’s thighs for pillows. Freddie’s thumb strokes by the crease of hiship.

“Finally stopped fighting it, hm?” John asks quietly, “readyto be a good boy, let us have our way with you?”

He nods, letting his mouth fall open as Freddie doesthat thing with his tongue. His body feels like he’s on a livewire, butat the same time, his head is falling into that fuzzy space he so often craves.

John presses two fingers to his tongue. Brian closeshis mouth around them and starts sucking. Mimicking what he would do if Johnwere to give him what he really wants. His eyes slip closed, and John seemscontent in leaving it be for now.

Already so strung out and high on pleasure, Brianlasts much shorter. Freddie pulls offand strokes him to completion. He tilts his hips up for more friction but keepshis mouth closed around John’s fingers.

“Open,” John orders softly.

Brian does and then whines. Roger shushes him withfluttery kisses on his face before clearing the space for Freddie. Freddiewiggles the fingers on his soiled hand and then holds it in front of Brian’sface while keeping his arms pinned with one hand. He groans at the flex of musclesin Freddie’s bicep.

“Clean your mess, lovie.”

He takes each finger individually, distracted briefly whenJohn rearranges his legs over his shoulders. His eyes roll back as soon as he realizeswhat John has in mind. Freddie allows him to be distracted with the three quickswipes of John’s tongue, but then he’s pressing in one of the still messy fingersin his mouth.

It goes in deeper and nearly triggers his gag reflex,but he relaxes his throat the last minute. Only for his eyes to fly open asJohn’s tongue slips into his entrance.

Once more his dick is bobbing against his stomach. Thepleasure is starting to lessen. Brian licks Freddie’s fingers with enthusiasm,trying to distract from the discomfort. What John lacks in technique (which isn’tto say it’s bad, Brian’s gotten off plenty of times to prove that statementwrong) he makes up for enthusiasm.

He’s gasping and rolling his hips trying to get Johndeeper. Roger hooks a finger in his mouth and pulls him over for a hot kiss.

“You have no idea, lovie,” Freddie whispers, lickingthe sensitive spot behind his ear, “how beautiful you look.”

Brian grins up at Freddie, happy for the praise. Freddiedoesn’t move from the spot, the hot hair brushing against the wet skin andcausing goosepimples to prick on his skin. John pulls away to bite at the skinof his thighs. Gently, but still enough Brian knows that he’s going to havemarks.

He whines, unsure of which he’s more interested in continuing.

“Look at you,” John whispers.

John looks a mess, his chin covered in spit, and haira mess from where Brian had pulled him into a kiss by it. His eyes a dark. Hissmile is soft and his thumb is rubbing tender circles into a spot on the sideof Brian’s knee.

“Color?” John asks softly.

“Green.”

The break is exactly what he needed. John’s smileturns darker and dives back to his task. Brian shouts in surprise, but it quicklyturns into a moan. He feels pressure building along his stomach, and a few moreslightly forceful licks later, he’s coming again.

Dry, and tears spring to his eyes. Freddie kisses themaway as John slowly lowers his leg. Roger rolls over from where he had beenentertaining himself, heavy panting and flush back on his cheeks. He kissesBrian’s neck and nuzzles into the space there.

His eyes flick up to Freddie who is smiling, workinghis own cock with his hips tilted away from Brian’s face. When he glances downto John he’s surprised to see the tiny strip of white on his chest. Johnusually lasts the longest. Brian tilts his head. John had only come twice whenFreddie and Roger were likely on their third.

If he remembers right. His head is pretty foggy. Johnreaches out for him, which Brian responds to, Freddie too busy with himself andRoger to pay much attention to him. He’s mostly dragged over, his body pressedagainst John’s. They’re both sticky, but it’s a mild complaint.

Brian lets himself sink further into that fog as hewatches Freddie and Roger roll around with each other. Pawing at biceps and tuggingat hair. Roger’s moans increasing in pitch. John rubs a hand up and down hisback.

“You did so well.”

He nods.

“Not quite the sobbing mess I was hoping for,” Johngrins, “but you did cry. So I’ll take it.”

He closes his eyes. His thoughts carefully circling,but he doesn’t care about them now. Just the ache in the lower part of his bodyand the heavy buzz of pleasure.

“Let go,” John says.

He hums once and closes his eyes. Under him John iswarm and firm. Brian hears Roger’s squeals and Freddie’s low grumbles. Smellsthe sex in the room. John’s hand settles on his hip, flexing and digging, butnot insistent.

It doesn’t take too much longer before a sweaty bodyjoins their pile. Roger, because he feels a callused palm rub up his rib cage.The warmth builds. He wonders what Roger looks like, but then Freddie comeswith a shout.

Brian whines when Freddie flops over Roger and nearlydislodges him from his spot on top of John. Freddie chuckles and kisses hisforehead in apology.

“Ah, we’re getting old,” Roger murmurs, “remember whenwe could do that all night?”

John snorts and he can hear a grunt from Roger, whichBrian imagines was Freddie laying on him.

“How scandalous, we’re barely thirty.”

“John is barely thirty.”

“And we’re only as old as our youngest.”

Brian smiles and rubs his face on John’s chest. Yeah, theymight be older, but they’re still together and really, that’s all Brian caresabout.

#poly!queen #polyqueen #I wish that I was more confident in writing fem!queen #but hey #anyway #sub!brian #and it's much softer smut than I think you were looking for oops #this fill is just all over the place #I'm sorry #Anonymous #asks

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