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theflyingfeeling · 2 years

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Ending the year with Blind Channel + a bunch of some lovely people, aka not-a-concert-report from the Helsinki ice hall show (29.12.) and Tampere Pakkahuone (30.12.)

(let me know if any of you want your (@)mention removed from this post 🖤)

Not a concert report because y'all know pretty much what happened; this is just my own diary entry about the events 😌

So, Thursday was a bit of a struggle for me personally: there were some surprise changes regarding my train trip to Helsinki that gave me a good ol' spook the first thing I woke up, plus I had a killer headache for most of the day...

...and on top of that I fell! 🙈 We were already inside the venue and on our way to take our spots on the floor. Naturally there were all sorts of electric chords going across the floor, but thankfully they were covered so that people walking normally and minding their step wouldn't stumble all over them 🙏👍👌

Needless to say I wasn't one of them, however 🙃 I wasn't running, I was just walking quite fast, and I totally wasn't watching where I was going, and so I tripped and ended up on the floor and had super minor injuries on my hand and knee (thanks @matelas for the pink bandaid 💗)

My fall wasn't quite as dramatic as Porko's though, gosh what a show-off, can't even fall on his pretty little ass without pyros blowing off 🙄🔥

We weren't super close to the stage, but close enough to see what was happening with our bare eyes, and definitely closer than I dared to imagine in advance! 🤩

The surprise Robin was one of the highlights of the gig, that was truly something straight ouf of fanfiction 😆 I mean, imagine being such good friends with your ex that you ask them to be a special guest in your special show with your new bf's band :')

And the money shooting in the air was a m a z i n g 😂💞💸 sadly I didn't catch one, but @thisisntaparty was terribly kind and gave me one afterwards as a keepsake 🥰 I've put it on the Place of High Honour™ (the fridge door)

(let's not talk about how the setlist was a teeeeeeeeeny tiny disappointment (to me personally at least; I was totally excpecting to hear SLB and many other songs they KNOW are fan favourites 😔), and I feel like the show itself wasn't as special I was expecting it to be 🤔 I mean, of course having Robin fucking Packalén there took us all by surprise etc. but somehow I expected more, especially because the setlist was exactly the same the next day in Tampere (and maybe the cruise show setlist was similar as well?). For example, Dark Side being the ONLY encore song wasn't how I had imagined them to end their biggest headline gig to date)

But, speaking of Tampere, HOLY FUCKING SHIT 😭😭😭😭😭 It was incredible, and not least because we were on 3rd row with a direct view to Olli 😵 @matelas and I competely lost it when he first appeared in front of us, in all his sinful beauty ✨

I had never been this close to Olli's side before, so it was amazing to see his happy face during the songs 😭 You can really see from his whole presence how much he enjoys playing shows, I wanted to ruffle his hair too like Niko did during Glory For The Greedy 🥺

And Aleksi was really enjoying himself as well, it was cool to see him up close too when he came to stand on Olli's platform a few times 🥰 I feel like our eyes met very briefly near the end 💖

Niko did the eeeeeeeeyo thingie, as he always does, and we did the longest eeeeeeeeeeeyo known to mankind back at him, in fact I think you can still hear it echoing inside Pakkahuone! 😌

In both shows (and also in general) my favourite songs to hear live are Don't Fix Me, We Are No Saints, and Balboa; I had so much fun boundcing and partying to those songs 💃 I had made a conscious decision to not film too many videos during either gig, because I truly wanted to take it all in and enjoy the shows to the fullest, but at the same time I wish I had taken just a few more, because watching the videos and sort of getting to re-live the whole thing all over again is so much fun 🖤

Great fun was also had at the very informal, extremely small-scale, and otherwise perfectly wonderful BC tumblr gathering we had after the ice hall show in a bar downton Helsinki, and in the Gathering 2.0 after the Tampere show!! 🥰 You guyyyyyyssssss, both hangouts were filled with laughter and kindness and soft feelings and I was so happy 🥺😭💕

(I DIDN'T CRY, but if I did, it was because @himmelno44 made me!! 😭)

Thanks to BC and their superb energy and songs I probably would have had a great time even if I had gone to the shows all alone, but I gotta tell ya, spending time with such lovely people made it so much better and I had the most fun I've had in a long time 🥺

Special thank yous go to my queuing buddies @ladysorbus and @matelas without whom I would've frozen my ass off and died of boredom while waiting for showtime both days (I'll have you know Envy and I acted so incredibly mature the entire time and totally did not annoy the heck out of @ladysorbus and each other 🥰💞)

Thank you to my BC tumblr meet organizer buddy @sinking-into-mist (the meet was succesful and no one passed out due to anxiety, look at us!! 🎉) and my darling dearest sweetest most loveliest @himmelno44 I miss you so terribly much already and I'm counting the days until we see again, no matter how many there'll be 😭

Thank you to @thisisntaparty (keeping the door open for Stockholm shall we 👀) @mil-peri @madeofbrokenstuff @gingervivilou and @into-the-hell for hanging out, it was so nice meeting you and I'm up for getting together with any of you sweet people any time! <3

And thank you to everyone else I met a little more briefly (but not too briefly to get a hug 🥰), it was great to see you all, mwah mwah mwah 💋

And now the emotional part:

This year's been a bit rough for me personally for various reasons, as there has been a couple of changes that I'm still trying to get used to (+ the always-present feelings of loneliness and inadequacy), but Blind Channel has been this one consistent element in my life this year, something I have been able to escape to when things in my personal life have started hurting too much. Their music and all the content on the side (from the guys themselves as well as fan-made) are one thing, but equally important to me are all the amazing people I have met (in person and online!) and the incredible memories we have made together that have given me endless joy throughout the year 🥺 There have been many, many days when I have felt so incredibly sad and lonely and desperate and the thought of being happy has seemed downright impossible, but during the last two days I have laughed so much and felt such joy that I don't really know how to put it into words 😭 I just want to thank everyone who was part of it, and of course I hope to one day be able to meet Blind Channel in person again too and thank them, for giving me so much more than just the music 🖤

To anyone reading this, thinking I'm crying my eyes out all alone in my apartment, having to continue living my sad, boring life not knowing when I'll see Blind Channel and some of the lovely peeps mentioned above again: I am crying my eyes out, but I want you to know I'm also crying happy tears because of how grateful I am for all these memories, and also that I'm happy to sleep in my own bed tonight and to be eating cauliflower soup and having some fun snacks while watching hockey later, so life's not all bad I guess, even if I have a small wound on my right hand and a bruise the size of Niko's balls on my left knee :')

(last night I was actually so happy that I had forgotten all about the falling as well as the hassle with the train 🥰)

#blind channel #tw flashing #ok to reblog if you don't mind having my emotional rambling on your blog 🙈#not me singing on the video btw #(...i think? 🤣)#happy new year everybody! may there be many BC concerts to attend and fun times to be had in 2023 for all of us <3 #my next live gig will be lost society next month 🤘🖤#btw i may have a new year's themed shitpost coming up later tonight (if I get around to making it) 😏🎆#my concert #gig reports by theflyingfeeling

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mondayborn · 2 years

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Blind Channel advent calendar

Day 21: „The mistletoe“

As Olli was walking the last steps to the Helsinki Ice Hall for their last practice before christmas he still couldn’t believe they were going to be playing that venue soon. Of course it had always been their dream to play there, but to see it actually happening was just…it just didn’t feel real.

There was another thing on his mind though, and that was what his boys were up to right now. He was actually the last one to join the rehersal due to a last minute appointment, and he knew there was probably madness going on inside the venue right now. He also received a text from Joonas telling him to text him when he arrived at the venue, which meant he was probably up to something. Well it was nothing new to him, he knew to always expect the unexpected with either of them.

When Olli walked to their practice area he could see Joonas waiting for him in the doorway.

„Hi Olli“ Joonas greeted him with a smirk on his face, going in for a hug. A hug that Olli of course returned straight away. When they seperated again, Joonas didn’t move out of the doorway, but instead looked at him expectantly with the smirk from before even wider on his face.

„Joonas can we…“ Olli broke of, gesturing for him to move into the room instead.

„Kiss first“ Joonas replied coming closer to Olli instead of moving away from him.

„Have I missed something?“ Olli asked confused but also slightly amused because this was just so Porko.

Instead of answering Joonas pointed up. When Olli spotted what he was pointing at everything made sense and he began to laugh.

„How did that even get here“ he still managed to get out.

„Oh you see our dearest Porko put that up himself this morning before everyone arrived“ Niko chimed into the conversation, coming up behind Joonas and petting him on the shoulder.

„An opportunity I just couldn’t miss“ Joonas said, sounding and looking quite proud of himself.

„Yeah he really did not miss one opportunity with this. Those lips have touched us all“ Aleksi entered the conversation aswell.

„Well everyone but you Olli“ Joonas looked at him in expectation.

„Bisou bisou my dearest Olli“

- 🦋 wearing a santa hat

First of all I am so sorry that this is arriving two days late. I also had a bit of a hard time thinking about what to write for you, but than thought of this when I reread your kiss fics. I hope you like it, or maybe just find it a bit amusing at least. Please let me know though if you dont like it so I can write you another one.

Thank you this is really cute very Joonas 🤲

I have to be honest though the accompanying message made me very uncomfortable. I didn't sign up for whatever this little project is so to me this is very much a gift, something you did because you chose to.

Therefore dear 🦋 wearing a santa hat I would never ever think to:

a) blame you for being late (I didn't even know I was receiving a gift so why should I think this is late?)

b) say I don't like it (that would be crazy ungrateful! no one is entitled to extra fics from you)

People will like your work and people won't but the latter better shut up and say thank you because it's a gift!

#blind channel fic #rpf #ive got mail #egglish #thank you for coming to my tedtalk 🙃

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rpf-bat · 2 years

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Everything I Posted On AO3 In 2022

Wishes On Cake - Niko/Joonas. Posted: January 17th. Written for Niko’s 27th birthday.

Niko celebrates his birthday by meeting up with his bandmates at a bar. Joonas gets self conscious, when he realizes he's the only one who got Niko an actual gift. By the time he actually presents the gift to Niko, he's drunk. He knows he shouldn't say how he feels. Not when he's barely coherent like this. But, he just can't hold his feelings back anymore.

Be My Bloody Valentine Tonight - Joel/Joonas. Posted: February 14th. Written for Valentine’s Day.

Joonas comes knocking on Joel's door, the morning of February 14th, to show him the Valentine card he just found. Joel is nursing a hangover, and doesn't particularly want to hear about it...until Joonas explains that he thinks the card may have come from a stalker fan.

Heaven Or Hell - Joel/Niko. Posted: March 27th. Part 1 of the Angels & Demons AU.

Joel is an angel of the Lord, and there's a human boy that he is supposed to protect. Unfortunately, the demon Niko intends to seduce this same boy into sin. How far will Joel go to protect him? Or - is he only telling himself that's why he's doing this?

I Keep On Falling - Joel/Joonas. Posted: April 2nd. Part 2 of the Angels & Demons AU.

After his dalliance with Niko, Joel has become a fallen angel. He hates himself for losing his wings - but, he realizes that there's one positive thing about this whole situation. There's no longer any reason for him to avoid his ex, Joonas.

Joonas had no idea that an angel lost his wings last night - until Satan orders him to bring the new Fallen One to Hell.

I’m No Saint - Joel/Aleksi/Niko. Posted: April 3rd. Part 3 of the Angels & Demons AU.

It's been three years, since Joel and Joonas decided to run from the Devil. It was foolish, to think that they could stay this way forever. Satan catches up to them, and orders Joel to seduce his first mortal soul. Just to twist the knife, the mortal that he's been ordered to corrupt is Alex - the very person that Joel lost his wings in the first place to save.

An old 'friend' appears at Helsinki Ice Hall, all too willing to help Joel carry out his sinful mission.

Run For The Hills - Tommi/Olli. Posted: June 23rd. Written for Tommi’s 26th birthday.

Olli just wants to take his boyfriend on a cute picnic date for his birthday. But, the local wildlife interrupts.

Three Summers In Hanko - Joel/Joonas. Posted: August 2nd. Written for BC Summerfest.

Joonas met Joel in the summer of 2009, three months before he turned fifteen. Joel's family bought a summer home in the Hanko Peninsula, right next to the vacation property Joonas' family was renting. After a chance meeting, they became fast friends. It's hard to part ways when summer vacation ends.

Fast forward to 2010. Joel is so excited to see his friend again, when he returns to Hanko, the following summer. But, an unexpected revelation, threatens to destroy their friendship forever. Can they get back, what they once had? Or will their bond melt away like ice cream on a hot summer's day?

Flufftober With Blind Channel 2 - Multiship. Posted: October 1st - 24th. Drabble collection.

…I only finished the first 23 days of this challenge. Oops. ^^;

My Boys - Niko/Reader. Posted: December 14th. Just 209 words of Boyfriend!Niko + cat lol

You're cuddling with Niko on a cold winter's night. Rommi wants to join.

Castle In The Woods - Niko/Joonas. Posted: December 25th. Vampire AU. Written for BC Blood Mass.

Joonas flees his remote mountain village, hoping to escape an unwanted arranged marriage and start a new life. But, when a snowstorm hits, he finds himself hopelessly lost. He and his loyal servant take shelter in an abandoned castle.

But, alas, the castle wasn't as "abandoned" as Joonas thought. And now the master of the castle won't let him leave....

#blind channel rpf #my fic #niko vilhelm x joonas porko #joel hokka x joonas porko #joel hokka x niko vilhelm #tommi lalli x olli matela #niko vilhelm x reader #2022 writing wrapped #sorry for the long post

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chorusfm · 10 months

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Albums in Stores – Dec 15th, 2023

If you hit read more you can see all the releases we have in our calendar for the week. Hit the comments to access our forums and talk about what came out today, what albums you picked up, and to make mention of anything we may have missed. (hed) p.e. – DetoxCapstan – nulla.Children Of Bodom – A Chapter Called Children Of Bodom (Final Show In Helsinki Ice Hall 2019)Cryptworm – Oozing Radioactive VomitionDeadSeraphin – FallenDemoncy – Diabolica BlasphemiaeElephant Gym – WorldEvergrey – From Dark Discoveries To Heartless PortraitsFall Out Boy – Take This To Your Grave (20th Anniversary Edition)Fort Minor – The Rising Tied (Deluxe Edition)From Fall To Spring – RISE (Deluxe Edition)Imperialist – QuantumJoshua Roberts – Good For YouKite Thief – AmbiviolentMAVIS – Grief Is No AllyMac DeMarco – One Wayne G.Mento Buru – East Bakersfield Christmas IIObserve The 93rd – EternalismPallas – The MessengerPlacebo – Placebo LiveRevulsed – Cerebral ContaminationRingarë – Of Momentous Endless NightSatanism – In Conspiracy With SatanismScarlett O’Hara – OverthrownSulfuric Hatred – Sulfuric HatredTate McRae – Think LaterThe Barrels – The BarrelsThe Republic Of Wolves – Why Would Anyone Want To Live This Long?Therion – Leviathan IIIVaragrav – The NightholdWarcoe – A Place For Demonshitbox – Labor Vita, Necesse Mori¥$ – Vultures --- Thanks to helloiamzach for providing additional contributions to this week’s list. You can check out and support his weekly music podcast It’s Not A Phase or follow him on his socials. --- Please consider becoming a member so we can keep bringing you stories like this one. ◎ https://chorus.fm/albums-in-stores-today/albums-in-stores-dec-15th-2023/

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greysshowcase · 2 years

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Radi kosova e lire

Musical director Adam Blackstone wants to take Dr. Musical director behind Dr Dre's Super Bowl show wants to take it on the road Wednesday, 7 September 2022 17:04:01.Rita Ora will "never forget" performing in Tirana after being awarded the Naim Frashëri order by the President of Albania. Rita Ora will 'never forget' performing in hometown of Tirana Wednesday, 7 September 2022 18:39:00.Lainey Wilson leads this year''s nominees with six. Blake Lively lands CMA Awards nomination for directing Taylor Swift music video Wednesday, 7 September 2022 20:31:00.They discussed his latest release ‘Hold Me Closer’ Music legend Elton John joined Fleur East today on The Hits Radio Breakfast Show. Elton John: 'I’m trying to get her back to what she does.Last night, multi-platinum, award-winning sensation Lil Nas X kicked off his long-awaited Long Live Montero tour in Detroit, MI. Lil Nas X's Long Live Montero tour off to a flying start in Detroit Thursday, 8 September 2022 00:26:00.The Since U Been Gone singer filed for divorce from husband Brandon Blackstock in June 2020. Kelly Clarkson wasn't sure if she would release 'angry' divorce album Thursday, 8 September 2022 01:31:36.Opening the show with “Talk Of The Town,'' from his latest album COME HOME THE KIDS MISS YOU, Harlow brought his electrifying Jack Harlow kicks off Come Home The Kids Miss You Tour Thursday, 8 September 2022 04:10:00.Courteney Cox jokes 'old Kanye thought Friends was funny' after rapper takes aim at show Thursday, 8 September 2022 12:31:00įriends actress Courteney Cox responded on Tuesday to a since-deleted Instagram post by Kanye West slamming the show as “not funny”.Michael Monroe, who turned 60 in June, will celebrate the milestone with a bang at the Helsinki Ice Hall on September 23rd. Michael Monroe to reform Hanoi Rocks original line up Thursday, 8 September 2022 12:59:00.Pop star Kelly Clarkson has revealed she's preparing to release her first album in five years which will detail the breakdown of her relationship with Brandon Blackstock. Kelly Clarkson to lift lid on Brandon Blackstock split in 'divorce' album Thursday, 8 September 2022 13:04:01.The Libertines are mourning the loss of their first drummer, Paul Dufour. The Libertines in 'shock' as former drummer dies Thursday, 8 September 2022 13:19:01.Sir Elton John has revealed he plans to stop making music for a little way to figure out what he'll do next after retiring from touring. Sir Elton John to take 'little hiatus' after final tour to decide 'what's next' Thursday, 8 September 2022 15:04:00.Sir Paul McCartney and Rolling Stones' guitars auctioned for Ukraine relief Thursday, 8 September 2022 15:04:00Ī huge Gibson guitar sale of instruments owned by music legends will raise funds for Ukraine's relief efforts.Harry Styles played a gig at Madison Square Garden in New York City on Wednesday night. Harry Styles jokes about viral 'spitting' video during concert Thursday, 8 September 2022 16:31:00.Ricky Martin claims his nephew has continued to contact him and threaten to ruin his reputation. Ricky Martin files $20 million lawsuit against nephew following domestic abuse allegations Thursday, 8 September 2022 16:31:00.Meghan Trainor will release her next single from 'Takin' It Back' on Friday (09.09.22). Meghan Trainor releasing new song on Friday Thursday, 8 September 2022 17:04:01.The Beatles' iconic 'Revolver' album has been mixed and expanded for a new special boxset. John Lennon's acoustic rendition of Yellow Submarine featured on new Revolver boxset Thursday, 8 September 2022 17:05:00.Stewart Copeland compared Taylor Hawkins' son Shane's "musical stance" to that of his late father. Stewart Copeland 'cried' through Shawn Hawkins' Taylor tribute rehearsal Thursday, 8 September 2022 17:06:00.Roger Taylor is to release a recording of 'The Outsider Live' as an album and wants fans to "enjoy" it after such dark times. Roger Taylor to release The Outsider Live album Thursday, 8 September 2022 20:39:00.

#Radi kosova e lire

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blue-sun-king · 7 years

Video

youtube

#HIM #him farewell tour #him join me in death #join me in death #HIM Helsinki Ice Hall #HIM Helsinki #HIM Helldone #HIM 2017 #helsingin jäähalli #Ville Valo #mikko lindström #my videos #me

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headbanger98tv · 7 years

Video

vimeo

🖤 HIM 1991 - 2017 🖤

#him #his infernal majesty #helldone 2017 #helsinki #finland #ice hall #rebel yell

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ifidiedinadream · 2 years

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another joeleksi idea..

Cozy winter evening: hot chocolate with marshmallows, sweaters and candles☺️

hey dear 🥺 sorry it took so long!! i found it kinda hard to get into the right headspace for this because we've had nothing but 40 very humid degrees for months, but now it's here and i hope you enjoy 💖

it's not really evening, hope you can forgive me 😅

The Helsinki Ice Hall gig was fucking phenomenal.

It was huge and great and full of new stuff the fans loved. For its duration, Aleksi felt like the king of the world, reigning together with his four best friends and the love of his life. His head span when he got offstage, the adrenaline leaving his body while the drunk feeling lingered on.

Now they're home and the drunk feeling is disappearing as well at last. Aleksi is tired now that his body is releasing all the tension but he's still way too excited to go to sleep.

He glances over at Joel, sprawled on the armchair and not uttering a word. A stark contrast to the way he was behaving during the afterparty, laughing his loud laugh Aleksi loves so much as he held the latter up against the wall and kissed him hard. He hadn't even drunk yet.

Aleksi walks over to him and Joel responds to his closeness with a small smile, eyelids heavy. Aleksi tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and Joel's eyes close slowly.

"You wanna go to sleep?"

Joel brings the back of his hands to his eyes then, rubbing the tiredness away. He sits up.

"No," he says. "Wanna hold you."

It's the 29th of December after all, it's dark and cold, and Aleksi's heart flutters at the idea of being in Joel's embrace as they cuddle in bed. Suddenly all exhaustion is gone, his body begging for touch instead.

"Okay," he says. "Wait here a minute."

He leaves Joel in the armchair as he goes to their bedroom. Out of the corner of his eye, Aleksi sees him relax again.

"Dude," Joel says when they enter the bedroom together later, eyes wide and fully awake now. "Did I forget our anniversary or something?"

Aleksi laughs. He likes the effect: the candles on the nightstands, shelves and windowsill provide a soft, low light (it's enough for them to be able to see but at the same time it's dim and comforting); the cinnamon and vanilla fragrance they give off is sweet and enveloping but delicate enough.

(Aleksi is glad he decided to stock up these candles when they were on sale after Christmas. He knew they could come in handy).

"Our anniversary is in, like, six months," Aleksi remarks. "Late June is too hot for scented candles meant for Christmas Eve dinners."

Joel hugs Aleksi from behind. His movements are slow but his grip is tight and secure. Aleksi melts into it for a moment, closing his eyes in bliss.

"Fair enough," Joel says just above his head. "Post best fucking show of our lives candles it is, then."

Aleksi turns in Joel's embrace, hands flat on Joel's chest. The candles cast a warm light on both sides of his face and reflect in his eyes and he's just so gorgeous.

"Make yourself comfortable," Aleksi says. "I'll be right back."

Aleksi finds Joel lying in bed under the duvet when he comes back from the kitchen. He's holding two cups of hot chocolate, ringlets of smoke making their way up through cream and marshmallows.

(He tried his best to make it look like Joel's usual coffee shop order in winter. He has to say he did a good job. Now he can only hope it tastes as good).

"You're a fucking dream come true," Joel remarks upon seeing him. Aleksi smiles and blushes (it's fine, the dim light won't make it visible). He focuses on not making the hot drinks spill on the floor and then, when he's close enough, the bed. Aleksi hands one of the cups to Joel, then carefully slips under the duvet himself.

Soft warmth embraces him immediately and he lets out a sigh of pleasure. Joel slides closer to him and Aleksi buries his face in his chest, loving the way the sweater Joel's changed into feels against his skin. Joel wraps his arm around him, holding his chocolate with his other hand. He plants a dry kiss on Aleksi's hairline.

"This is perfect," he says softly to his forehead. "Thank you."

#my writing #blind channel fanfic #blind channel fanfiction #joel hokka x aleksi kaunisvesi #rpf #joeleksi #answered

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underthewingsofthblackeagle · 3 years

Photo

Foto: Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Dom und Parlamentsplatz (by tap5a)

“We only do this for Fergus!” is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved… unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story) @outlanderpromptexchange

Note to reader: This chapter mentions abortion and involuntary childlessness. If these topics trigger negative thoughts or the like in you, please skip it.

Chapter 10: Meeting the 'enemy' (3)

When Claire and Geillis returned to the living room, the two men were standing in front of the fireplace. To Claire's surprise, Jamie extended his right arm to her and when she came within his reach, he immediately pulled her to him. He smiled and kissed her gently on her left temple.

“Champagne glasses” by Myriams-Fotos

"It's nice to have some 'guy-on-guy' time, but without our 'better halves' we're missing something, aren't we Dave?"

Dave, who had also pulled Geillis close and welcomed her back with a kiss, nodded to Jamie. Geillis whispered something in Dave's ear, to which Dave smiled and let out a loud

"Oh!"

Jamie looked at him questioningly.

"Is there any news I don't know about yet?"

Dave cleared his throat, still smiling.

"Well, since Claire already found out, we shouldn't keep it a secret from you."

"I'm listening," Jamie said, turning his questioning gaze now to Claire.

To Claire's, Jamie's, and probably Geillis' surprise, they heard Dave say:

"Geillis and I are expecting our first child!"

A moment of surprised silence fell. Jamie was the first to recover his voice:

"Dave! Geillis! Congratulations!"

Fraser walked up to the couple and enclosed them in a light embrace.

"Claire! We've got a wonderful reason to celebrate!" he exclaimed as he broke away from the couple a moment later.

Without waiting for a reaction from his 'fiancée', he then said:

"Come, sit down. I'll get us a bottle of champagne. This calls for a celebration! Claire, why don't you take four champagne bowls from the cupboard?"

Then he was gone through the door to the dining room. While Dave and Geillis took their seats on one of the sofas again, Claire went to the cupboard and got the desired glasses.

Shortly after, Jamie returned with a champagne bucket filled with ice and a bottle of "Moet & Chandon" sticking out of it. He pulled the bottle out of the ice and opened it with a loud pop. Then he poured for everyone. He then raised his glass and said:

"To a strong and healthy child! And to the happy parents!"

They toasted each other and drank. Then they all sat down again and a conversation developed about children in general, then about siblings (to this part of the conversation Jamie and Dave contributed quite a few very funny anecdotes from their childhood), and of course Dave and Geillis asked about Fergus.

“Paris bridge” by pierre9x6 When Jamie told about how he found his now foster son in Paris and the effort it had taken him to bring the child to Germany, his face literally blossomed. From the very first day at the Fraser house, Claire had been aware of how much Jamie loved the boy and it was quite obvious that he had always wanted children. Then she heard Jamie say:

"But it's only since Claire has been looking after him that Fergus has been developing better and better. It's a joy to watch him grow up. You're so limited in time when you're a single father who has to run an international business. I am so grateful for Claire's support. She has the ability to nurture his creativity, to channel his thirst for knowledge - it's just a joy to watch him grow up. But none of this would be possible without her."

Claire, who had already been sitting next to him the whole time and around whose shoulders he had put his right arm, as if it were the most natural gesture in the world, felt him pull her even closer. She looked at him and then saw him smiling all over her face.

Just before midnight, Dave and Geillis set off. The chauffeur appeared and together with Jamie he lifted the 'Vase No. 4' along with the Protea flowers into a prepared wooden box, which he then - a small double-ended cart - took to the elevator and from there to the garage to the car in. Jamie and Claire escorted the guests into the hall and, after Geillis and Dave had put on their coats, to the front door. After giving each other another hug, the friends walked to the car, which had already pulled up in front of the house. Jamie and Claire stopped on the top step of the small staircase that led to the front entrance and waved at them. When the car had disappeared from their sight, they returned to the hall together.

“Protea” by nagra76

"Excuse me a moment, I'll just go ...," Jamie said, pointing to door of the guest bathroom.

Claire nodded and went back to the living room. There she cleared the glasses and the champagne bucket from the table and brought everything back to the kitchen. When she returned, Claire took the flat jewelry box from the closet and sat down on one of the sofas. While she was taking the jewelry off and putting it back in the box, she had to pause for a moment. She noticed how the strength with which she had held herself upright since the conversation with Geillis was drying up more and more. And then she just couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

Just at that moment Jamie also returned to the living room and he immediately noticed that Claire was not well. But he had already had this impression since the two women had returned to the living room. When he had reached out his arm and pulled Claire to him, she had put one of her arms around his back and the other over his stomach. This could have been seen as a gesture to make it clear that he was hers. But Fraser had rather had the impression that Claire felt an urgent need to hold on to him.

With a few sweeping steps, he hurried to her.

"Claire, what is it? Are you not feeling well? Has ... Has this evening overwhelmed you? Did I do something wrong?"

Without even consciously realizing it, he knelt in front of her and grabbed her hands, which were folded in her lap.

Claire disengaged her right hand from his, placed it on Fraser's right, and squeezed it:

"No, Jamie, you didn't do anything wrong. It … has nothing at all … to do with you … or Fergus … or with us."

Then she burst into heavy sobs and slapped both hands to her face. Jamie put both arms around her and pulled her close. They stayed like that for a while, until Claire calmed down a bit.

She reached for the handkerchief Jamie held out to her, wiped her tears and blew her nose. Then she said:

"I already had the impression that Geillis was pregnant when I greeted her in the hall. As soon as I saw her dress. Then when were at my apartment …. I voiced my suspicions and she confirmed it."

"But why does that make you so ... sad. It's a great thing that they will have a child, isn't it?" asked Fraser in wonder.

Claire looked at him, wondering if she should really tell him. But then she decided to:

"It's … not a wanted child, Jamie. It … wasn't planned and ... Geillis ..."

"Does she want to a ..."

"No! No! They're going to have the baby. You saw how excited Dave is and how proud he is to finally be a father."

Claire paused for a moment. Then she continued:

"Geillis ... Geillis is afraid that she can't love the child because she actually envisioned her life without children. She's afraid it's all going to have a negative impact on her relationship with Dave."

"And that makes you so sad. I understand."

Jamie's expression darkened. He looked down at the floor and nodded.

"No," Claire objected, "I ... it's perfectly normal for her to be so upset right now. A lot of women feel that way in a situation like this. But it doesn't have to stop there. As a nurse, I've many women where that feeling changed over time and they're really good, loving mothers to this day. And of course, I will try to help her. I would like to meet with her later this week and talk to her. Then we'll go from there."

“Taschentuch” by bloomingnakanishi

Fraser looked at her in wonder. He paused for a moment. It was clear to him that the question he was about to ask would probably cause Claire pain, but he needed to know what was bothering her.

"But, if this can change, if you can help her, Claire ... why are you so sad?"

And, as he had guessed, Claire's pain immediately erupted:

"Because it's so terribly unfair! It's so unfair Jamie!"

From Claire's suddenly wide-open red eyes, sheer desperation looked at him. He felt her hands clench under his and she trembled with inner rage and despair. It took only a few seconds, then another flood of tears streamed down Claire's cheeks and again she was shaken by deep sobs. Jamie put his arms around her and pulled her close. A foreboding formed in his mind, but he didn't dare speak it. When Claire had calmed down a bit and dried her tears again, she said:

"It's so unfair, Jamie. Why do women who don't want children have children, and why do women who would love nothing more than to be a mother have to resign themselves to never having children?"

Fraser was silent. What could he have said? But he would have had little opportunity to speak either, for Claire continued immediately:

"Every year in this country alone, more than 130,000 children are aborted. 130,000, that's the number of inhabitants of a city like Heidelberg. Can you imagine that? And no! Before we misunderstand each other, I am not passing judgment on these women. I don't know the individual fates, I don't know what moves them, what they go through and I don't take the right to judge them. But, in this country, there are many institutions that advocate for them and that care about them. And that's a good thing, because no woman should be alone in a situation like this. There has been support for them for many years. But involuntarily childless people hardly have a lobby! And yet every tenth couple between the ages of 25 and 59 in this country is involuntarily childless! One in ten couples, Jamie! And what are these people advised to do? Well, if you can't have children of your own, then adopt! That's what childless couples are told. But you don't need me to tell you how hard that is. Not only as a single man like you! Even as a married couple! Even if the man has an extremely well-paid, prestigious job at a world renown university and the woman is willing to stay at home! Even if the couple has their own house with a garden and a good reputation! Even then it can take years! Why do so many married couples go to the former Eastern Bloc countries and adopt a child from a Russian or Ukrainian orphanage? And then, when you are a couple and decide to ... for this terrible, ... this infinitely exhausting .... fertility treatment, then you also only get some financial support for it since 2012! Only since 2012!"

Again, Claire's eyes welled up with tears, which she wiped away with the large men's handkerchief. Jamie, meanwhile, was silent, inwardly praying for the right words.

"I never told you, but.... my late husband, Frank, and I, we wanted children. Very much so. For Frank, it was especially important. But also, me ... It was already decided before we got married. The house we bought when we moved to Berlin had two children's rooms. We always called them that, too. For many years we tried again and again, by all means. We both wanted it, but ... In the end, it tore our marriage apart. Frank... he... turned to other women until... until he found one with whom he wanted to start a family. I didn't find out the details until after he had passed away. It was one of his colleagues and ... well ... it had been going on for several years. Shortly before he died, he had made the decision to leave me. Frank had already set everything in motion. Only death prevented him from putting it into action. He wanted to divorce me so that he could marry her. Frank never said it, but I knew him well enough. It was clear that he wanted to marry this woman because he hoped to finally have the children with her. Children! The children I couldn't give him."

Again, Claire was silent for a moment, then it burst out of her again:

"In this country you are nothing if you remain childless - as a woman. If you are a single man - or even a married one - and have countless affaires, you are looked at as a Don Juan, a Casanova, a womanizer, a lady-killer! In the old boys' clubs and at the young boys' parties, such a man is celebrated. But if you are a married childless woman … Without knowing the reason for your childlessness, judgment is passed on you. You are seen as selfish, egoistic, irresponsible, less helpful, less mature and less happy. And you feel yourself to be so ... unnatural, inferior, deviating from the norm, as if you are not a real woman at all. The social pressure is enormous … My parents had died early and Frank's parents were already dead. So, there were no grandparents who kept asking us about grandchildren. But in our circles of colleagues, the question naturally came up again and again. 'Don't you want children?' - 'How long are you going to wait?' - as if that was the question!"

“Leere Krippe” by congerdesign

A distinct bitterness was visible on Claire's face.

"My Uncle Lambert would never have asked such questions. But on his face, I saw it again and again. How he would have loved to have had 'grandchildren.' How he would have liked to see something of him, of the Beauchamp's, live on … Frank and I, of course, tried the medical methods. You read about it again and again in magazines and ... The fertility clinics also do a lot of advertising. But nobody talked about the possible risks, the side effects of the high hormone doses for a woman, or the very low success rate of getting pregnant at all, let alone the probability of giving birth to a child. Nor did we tell anyone in our circle of friends or colleagues about the artificial procreation attempts. Not even Geillis knows. Who wants to explain this complicated and embarrassing procedure to friends or colleagues and then have to answer questions all the time? When will the baby finally come? Two of these attempts and two more within the following two years failed. We finally had to realize that we could never become parents. Frank then converted the children's rooms into a guest room and into a ... storage room ... a ... storage room. However, ... we hardly got any guests after .... He was more and more absent in his spare time ... well, later I found out where he was."

Claire blew her nose and Jamie saw her eyes fill with tears.

"It's so unfair! It's so unfair!"

Claire's voice had gone hoarse, yet the words continued to flow out of her.

"Imagine that in your neighborhood, in your circle of colleagues, women get pregnant who don't even want to be, and you, you remain childless. And this happens not once or twice, but many times. And then you are left by your husband because of that. Left behind like a ... broken, useless object of utility! ... Nobody thinks much about what women like me go through. Nobody! We have no lobby. Do you hear me? Absolutely no lobby! Do you hear me, Jamie?!"

Jamie pulled her close and gently pressed her head against his left shoulder. As Claire's sobs slowly subsided, he felt her tears soaking his shirt. Then he said softly, but clearly:

"I hear you, Claire. I hear you, I really do. And I know how it feels. Believe me."

Claire lifted her head and looked at him uncomprehendingly.

"I've always wanted a family, too. But I never found the right woman. And then I found Fergus, and it was ... like a sign. He ... he's a gift. A wonderful gift. A precious gift. I will do everything for him ..."

"Yes, he is a wonderful child. A rascal, but a beloved rascal," she said, still sobbing.

"And he loves you, Claire. He really loves you. I haven't even had a chance to tell you yet, but do you know what he asked me one of the nights I put him to bed alone?"

Claire shook her head.

"I read to him from the book I bought him at the museum village. You remember, 'A Year in the Middle Ages: Eating and Celebrating, Traveling and Fighting, Ruling and Punishing, Believing and Loving.' Under the theme of 'Loving', it is of course about how people got married in the Middle Ages. It is said that people married much earlier than they do now, and Fergus asked me how old you had to be to get married today. I told him that usually you could get married from the age of 18. He looked at me and I could almost see the little wheels turning in his head. So, I told him that he would soon be seven years old and that it would only be eleven years until he was eighteen. He said nothing, but suddenly looked at me very grumpily. When I asked what made him so angry, he replied, 'Then it will be forever before I can marry Claire!'"

"Oh, no!"

"Yes, Claire!"

Now even Claire had to smile a little.

"He loves you, he'd marry you on the spot. If he could."

Again, tears rolled down Claire's cheeks.

"I love him very much, too, Jamie. I'm ... so glad you took him in."

She wiped the tears from her face and Jamie, slowly rising from his knees, sat down beside her.

"Claire, I heard you, really heard you, and I know what it means to feel this way, too. Now I'm asking you to listen to me carefully."

She nodded.

"Fergus loves you, he really does. And I, I am deeply grateful for everything you do for us and .... We're both very fond of you. You're not an employee to us, you're ... our best friend. And you matter to us … very much. I want you to know that... whatever happens after these three years, whatever you decide, you will always have a place in our hearts, Claire. And you will always have a home with us. Always."

"Thank you. Thank you so much. That's ..."

"Perfectly natural," Fraser finished the sentence. Then he rose and held out his hand to her:

"Come on, I'll take you up to your apartment."

Claire grabbed his hand and carefully let herself be pulled up by it.

#Outlander #Outlander Fan Fiction #We only do this for Fergus!#Fergus Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Gedillis Duncan #Potsdam #Berlin #germany #Modern AU

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beggingwolf · 4 years

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omg I would love for you to break down that scene from TKK where sid goes into heat unexpectedly and geno rescues him from the Czech alphas!! (yes I have read and reread it a million times bc it is absolutely delicious.) (also this is jes @ticklefighthockey - can’t send from my hockey sideblog!)

hi jes!! thank you so much for asking!! I love that scene too

this is, uh, a behemoth. be warned:

He’s being led on a tour of the rink, after the Russians have embarrassingly lost to Finland and before the Canadians are set to battle with the Czechs, when Zhenya stumbles upon him.

I enjoy, in retrospect, how Zhenya and Sid’s emotional states are so different coming into this interaction. Even going back further than this specific day, Zhenya-in-Helsinki is bored and understimulated and out of his area of expertise and his alphaness is chafing at him. Meanwhile, Sid is overstimulated and anxious and fearful and in denial about/trying to hide his omeganess. Their designations are really on display here: Zhenya is brashly an alpha, Sid is shamefully an omega, and I Just Think That’s Delicious.

It’s a flash, something deep and slumbering in his brain that alights like gas touched by a flame. One moment he’s listening to a very calm scout for the Superleague talk to him about Ovechkin and the potential a future Team Russia has, and the next there are yells echoing off the hallway’s walls and a figure racing towards them. A hook nestles into Zhenya’s intestines and his long leg moves, jerked along with the rest of him as he trips the running blur.

The omega falls; Zhenya reaches for them, and before Zhenya can stop himself, his big hand grabs the omega by the back of their neck. The omega seizes up, and Zhenya can’t breathe as his grip tightens and then shakes.

This is the, like, one part of the fic where Zhenya’s alphaness overwhelms him in the same way Sid’s omeganess overwhelms him. Sid is repeatedly at the mercy of his biology in the fic, and though he works to overcome it (and eventually settle into it), Zhenya doesn’t share that struggle—except for in this moment. I like how it equalizes them for a fraction of a second. Immediately after, the power imbalance flares to life and they’re on unequal ground, but for this moment, they’re both at the mercy of their bodies. It’s a huge aspect of what I enjoy about a/b/o.

Sid likes Helsinki.

I love this jump cut, personally. I think it’s cheeky of me and fun and, after hooking the reader with Zhenya’s side of things, allows me to do what I enjoy most: babble on about juniors!Sid. Let’s fast forward to where the narrative catches up with Zhenya’s POV:

Sid is last out of the showers after practice. He doesn’t normally linger, but he had spent so long staring at how Carter’s traps and deltoids flexed as he washed his hair that he stalled and told everyone he’d catch up.

Sid’s discomfort with his designation almost takes precedence over his relationship with his sexuality in TKK. They’re inextricably intertwined, but Sid really spends more time thinking about being an omega than he does fantasizing about alphas—perhaps largely in part due to his first ~meaningful~ physical interaction with alphas ends up being a near-assault followed by a formative, if unhealthy, scruffing at the hands of Zhenya. I hope I put in enough to show that Sid is eyeing the alphas around him with intent and that it’s disrupting his routines. Builds the tension. Primes us for what’s about to happen.

“Get out of there soon, Crosby, the Czechs are going to need the locker room in ten!” Durocher had called out to him, and Sid had made a sound of acknowledgement.

He’s not proud to jerk off in the empty communal showers. Once he’s come, he desperately tries to forget the fantasy of being shoved up against the cold tile, the slickness between his thighs being put to good use. His cheeks are flaming red and he’s mortified at himself as he washes the evidence off of his hands. In a rush he towels himself off and gets dressed in his team sweats, grabbing his bag of gear and jogging for the doors.

Yeah I’d be mortified too, Sid.

He opens the door and runs face-first into a chest.

He chokes on his own spit as he smells it, the sharp, overwhelming scent of alphas, plural, and looks up at the huge Czech defensemen that he’s spent two afternoons watching tape on.

The big one he ran into looks at Sid with vibrant blue eyes, and Sid stills as he watches the guy’s nostrils flare with a big intake of breath.

Sid forgot the cologne.

“Crosby,” the alpha says, his accent strangely shaping Sid’s name. Sid heard plenty of Czech at the U18 tourney, when Canada had gone down against the Czech team and the players and their fans had drunkenly gathered outside of the Canadian locker room to howl shit at them until the Canadians muscled their way out.

He’s never heard anything like the way this enormous alpha drawls his name, and his eyes go wide.

The alpha next to the blue-eyed one, a beefy blond guy that has a huge nose, takes a step towards Sid and says something. Sid can’t understand the words, but the message behind them is clearer than fresh ice in the winter, and all Sid can think is that he’s never been in this much danger.

Some disgusting, traitorous part of him whispers in his ear that maybe he’d like it if he stayed and listened to what they had to say.

Sid runs.

Sid’s sexual immaturity is really on display here. I don’t say anything about what the alphas smell like, and though Sid catalogues what the alphas look like (this was mostly so I could make them distinct in their actions), none of it is appreciative.

He’s a prey animal realizing he’s in danger, and regardless of his fantasies and recent jerk-off session, he has almost no desire to “be an omega” in this moment… except for the part of himself he hates, the part of himself he isn’t at ease with yet. EVEN THEN, he’s not interested in, like, being thrown to the ground and Taken in the biblical sense, but he’s interested in “if he stayed and listened to what they had to say.”

It’s that teasing at wanting something, that teenage impulse to want to explore what you’re feeling but not willing to go all the way because you’re afraid and unsure and still young! But his prey instinct wins out (smartly).

He hates himself for it; he’s a fighter, and he doesn’t run from boys who are bigger than him, but he knows as deeply and intrinsically as he knows his own name that the instant one of the Czech alphas gets their hands around his neck, he’s done for.

That first line could be interpreted 2 ways before you get past the semi-colon: does he hate himself for running because he wants the Czechs? No; it’s because he wants to fight. Sid’s incorrectly performing being an omega here in multiple senses: he’s running from alphas and wanting to avoid his heat, and he’s also wanting to fight them.

He drops low, bending his legs so he can ram his shoulder into the blue-eyed one’s stomach, shoving him back just enough so Sid can elbow past the blond alpha and push through. He feels the blond reach for him, and a shout builds in his throat as the boy’s big hand grazes Sid’s wrist, nearly gripping him before Sid can twist out of the way.

He takes a step before the strap across his body gets yanked back, and Sid chokes as it digs into his Adam’s apple. The Czechs are gripping onto his hockey bag, and Sid only hesitates long enough for a hand to snake up and reach for his damp hair before he grits his teeth and slips out from under the strap of his bag and leaves it behind him, running in his untied sneakers down the hall.

The mention of his Adam’s apple draws attention to Sid’s age, I feel. It shows he’s physically mature but BARELY, because pointing it out draws attention to it in a conspicuous way. Then Sid being willing to ditch his hockey gear as he sprints—well, it shows (for once) he has his priorities straight. He tried to keep his omeganess hidden for the sake of hockey. Now he has to abandon hockey to keep himself safe.

The Czechs yell, their voices loud and reverberating off of the walls in a way that feels like it can physically pummel Sid. He still has the scent of them in his nose, and he can feel his untrustworthy body responding. He runs blindly, as fast as he can.

HERE we get some sense that the alphas are having a physical impact on Sid. And yet it’s not eroticized at all. It’s made violent and scary and he’s stripped of his own senses.

He rounds a corner and sprints, not remembering which way is which in the Helsinki rink. Sid barrels towards two figures in the hall, and his overwhelmed senses can tell that one of them is an alpha, the tall one, the dark one, and he sucks in one last desperate breath to hold so he can sprint past, so he can just get away from the heady scent and go somewhere safe.

Tall and dark, eh, Sidney? Our first hint of romantic descriptors.

The tall alpha moves faster than lightning, faster than a goalie adjusting to block a shot, and Sid feels an ankle connect with his shin and he panics.

Sid makes it about hockey. Ok bud sure you do you. (But like for real this represents a connection back to something Sid knows, something that is safe[...ish] for Sid, something that he loves).

He tripped him. The alpha tripped him, and maybe he’s in on it, and maybe Sid’s mom was right to be paranoid for all these years, and Sid’s hands come up to brace for the impact of the carpet when a hand as big as the span of his entire neck comes down on the back of it.

Everything stops.

Anxious stream-of-consciousness interrupted by an abrupt two-word sentence? Slap me silly with cliches, eh? But, hey, if it works...

The hand is enormous, the long, powerful fingers digging into the sides of Sid’s throat, and Sid’s jaw opens in something he hopes is a scream but by the way heat curls in his gut, he knows it’s something much, much worse.

Okay so HEREEEE we get yanked closer, again, to the erotic. The focus on hands (#TheFemaleGaze) as something salacious, enormous and long and powerful [hm. Freud is calling]... and even though Sid is terrified and refusing to put a specific name to what other emotion he’s feeling, his body betrays him yet again and we then fully slip into The Erotic with a heat—a heat—curling in his gut.

The hand yanks him up, pulling him away from the floor, and Sid fights against the instinct to go limp with everything he has; his trained muscles seize up instead, and Sid has never been so grateful to be an athlete. He balls his fists, sliding his foot on the ground to try and right himself, and then his world ends when the alpha scruffs him.

Sid resorts to athleticism (his only other use for his body before Being An Omega fucked it up, according to him) in order to fight back. And then the line “and then his world ends” hits. Melodramatic, sure, but he’s 16.

And moreover, objectively, the world Sid knew before this interaction is indeed over for him. Zhenya later thinks in the fic that alphas and omegas feel fated, like something out of a fairytale, and that line of fate—that this was inevitable, that once Sid and Zhenya met, Sid would be lost to “normalcy,” does ring true by the time the fic ends.

The alpha gives Sid a firm shake, just from the hand gripping his neck. Sid feels it down to his bones, reverberating through him harder than any check or hit he’s ever taken. Sid feels like he did when he was in 7th grade and one of his buddies tripped him while playing street hockey. This feels like when Sid’s head hit the blacktop; he’s not sure where all his limbs are anymore, and when he collapses, the alpha catches him.

This whole first chapter is just a major tease in regards to maturity, puberty, sexual awakenings, etc.

Sid acknowledged his physical response to alphas a few paragraphs ago, but now we’re back to Sid: The Child, to his middle-school self who is hurt and injured and vulnerable. By scruffing him, Zhenya ironically reverts him back to his child self; had Zhenya not scruffed him, who knows what Sid might have done or said to an alpha he was attracted to while he slips into heat?

By scruffing Sid—by making him no longer a viable partner [according to Zhenya’s instincts/hindbrain]—Zhenya actually keeps Sid safe here without even realizing it.

Sid lets out a sigh that sounds pleased, and he wants to heave instead.

And oop, we’re back! Tug and pull, back and forth. Will-they-won’t-they. Fun tension. The confusion of sexuality. Now that Sid is safe (even if he doesn’t know it), he can slip back into that pleasure state, even as he’s repulsed by it.

The alpha says something. His voice is deep and rich. Sid’s head lolls back so he can catch a glimpse.

He was right about the alpha being tall. His eyes go up and up to see the guy’s face. He’s older than Sid, but maybe he’s a player here. He could be 19, Sid hazily reasons to himself. His wide mouth is open in a concerned, surprised expression, and Sid’s eyes catch on how pink his lips are. He wonders how those lips would feel on his skin, but then his gaze is tugged upwards as the alpha’s eyebrows furrow over deep-set, dark eyes.

He’s handsome, and Sid is in his arms, utterly limp.

This part makes me smile even now while reading it :) Sid’s hazily like “Uhhh he could be my age right? Yeah it can definitely be acceptable to want this guy. Totally. Also he can totally play hockey. A dreamboat… Just For Me. Look at those lips. Also I’m totally helpless right now and for the FIRST time instead of terrified I am the human embodiment of the 👀 emoji.”

The alpha asks something of Sid, and Sid just stares up at him, dazed. He doesn’t know the language; it isn’t Czech. Maybe… Russian?

The hand still around his neck flexes, and Sid’s lips part. The alpha’s dark gaze drops to them, and Sid’s frightened by the emotion that blooms in his chest, a pride that’s twined with the adrenaline of his run. He can taste the alpha’s scent on his tongue, and it’s woodsy and deep and it makes Sid think of sex. He can feel his tongue poke at his lower lip, and the fingers around his neck tighten.

Then the noises from down the hall get louder, and Sid can’t move to look, but the alpha’s head jerks up. Sid watches as the alpha’s lips curl back and he snarls loudly at the Czechs.

Sid can smell them, the way their scents slide from hunter to hunted. There are rude, ineffective words spat at Sid before they retreat. He doesn’t understand a whiff of it, though, and all he can do is watch the alpha clinging to him. The alpha bares his teeth at the Czechs even as they scamper away. Sid can see the alpha’s teeth aren’t fully straight, but they’re sharp and a swooping sensation bottoms out in Sid’s gut.

It’s nothing like Parise’s hit, nothing like Tambellini’s command to leave the ball alone. Sid stares up at his alpha and he knows that if this guy took him to the ground, Sid would roll over without a second thought.

Fear rages through him again, even as his body hangs still from the scruffing.

Now we’re just really in the sauce, eh? We’ve fully entered into The Erotic and though Sid has that taste of fear in his chest, it’s not fear of alphas. It’s not fear of Zhenya.

It’s fear of himself. He isn’t scared at all of what Zhenya could do to him; he’s scared of what he wants (or what his body wants? He isn’t sure where that distinction is, because he’s been trying to divorce himself from his omega body since it started Making Problems).

Spicy! Delicious! I do, in fact, love it! His body is acting without his control (his tongue) but Sid is naming what he’s thinking of: sex. He hates himself over it. I am thoroughly enjoying myself!

The alpha looks back down at Sid, his lips coming together to cover his sharp teeth. He says something softly, glancing over Sid with obvious concern in his eyes. His grip loosens and his hand slides up into Sid’s wet hair to cradle his head instead.

“Crosby,” Sid can hear the other man, the beta next to his alpha— the alpha say in surprise, and Sid’s chest tightens.

“Crosby?” the alpha murmurs, squinting at Sid. He asks something else, and Sid still can’t get his throat to work, the scruffing clinging onto his voice box like a crushing fist.

The beta says something and the alpha grimaces, but he gently starts lowering Sid to the floor. Sid gasps in a breath, because no, not in the middle of a hallway, but the alpha just lays Sid down, bracing a careful hand on Sid’s shoulder, still cupping the back of his skull as he crouches down next to him.

“Crosby? Omega?” He hears the beta say in a thick Russian accent, and Sid’s eyes swivel to look at him.

“Help,” Sid finally begs, feeling weak and shameful.

Here we actually lose some of the erotic tension because

1. Zhenya looks at Sid with concern, not lust

2. His grip loosens on Sid, and

3. Zhenya puts Sid down not to have his way with him, but to make sure he’s okay.

The power dynamic is starting to shift; it isn’t so much about a/b/o as it is age right here. Zhenya is taking care of this kid, as he notes in the next section, and since Sid’s hangups over his immaturity will haunt him in the fic, his perspective sort of neuters Zhenya here because he thinks their ages will be a barrier to Sid getting Zhenya.

Also, another line I love: “no, not in the middle of a hallway,” because it’s SUCH a major slip on Sid’s part. His problem isn’t that he thinks Zhenya is about to go to town on him; it’s that they’re in a hallway and he has standards. (Or, rather, reasonable concerns over privacy, safety, and general comfort).

“Who is Crosby?” Zhenya asks as he stares down at the omega he’s cradling.

He’s about to be a very big thorn in your side for the next forever, Zhenya.

The omega is so young. He looks half-baked, especially with his head held at such an angle, making his chin disappear into his neck. His face is still round, and he has curly hair that hangs boyishly into his eyes. Those huge eyes are stunned and Zhenya can see the panic in them.

We’re still in that de-sexed space; readers can think “Hmm okay so maybe Sid was right, that Zhenya doesn’t really want-”

Zhenya closes his mouth and tries to take in less of the omega’s scent. It’s hot and jabs at Zhenya’s brain like a spice; Zhenya can smell the slick on him and swallows down the saliva flooding his mouth.

“Oh.”

Yep. Still wants ‘im. Has a moral compass to stop himself about it. Barely.

Also, Zhenya eats a fair amount of food in this fic—shitty food, like his McDonalds meal and bad American coffee, and good food, like the ribs and coco lardo in Moscow and the pelmeni and soup with his mother. Sid’s scent is like a spice to him—this appeals to his emotional senses, not just his physical ones.

“This is Crosby,” the Superleague scout says, dumbfounded. “He plays for Canada, he’s an omega—”

“No shit,” Zhenya grunts, and he can’t stop his thumb from stroking across the kid’s shoulder where Zhenya is pinning him down, the thin Team Canada shirt shifting under his touch. “Crosby, who’s here with you?”

Oops, crack in the facade there, Zhenya. Watch your hands. Still, it’s not made clear if this is a gesture meant to be comforting (to Sid) or selfish (for Zhenya). Ambiguity!

The omega, Crosby, gapes up at Zhenya, and Zhenya curses himself for scruffing him.

He hadn’t meant to; he’s only scruffed an omega once, and it was in a very different context, where a buxom omega named Svetlana had wanted Zhenya to lay her out and make her limp with it in bed. Crosby certainly hadn’t asked, but Zhenya had felt the panic in Crosby like a guillotine rising over his head and had needed to stop it.

More cracks. Relating it to sex with Svetlana and then pulling himself back by a VERY sharp image of a guillotine. Feeling like you need to cut something off, there, Zhenya?

His hindbrain had made the decision for him.

Zhenya thinks about alphaness in terms of his hindbrain—a hidden prey drive he’s got in his head, an old evolutionary instinct. Part of him, but... not all of him.

It’s very distinct from Sid, who refuses to even consider his omeganess as something other than, like, a personal failure and/or a physical impediment that’s fucking with him. When his omeganess comes for him, it takes him over.

Zhenya THINKS about his alphaness as divorced from himself to justify his actions; Sid ACTUALLY divorces his omeganess from himself as a survival instinct (until it stops working, and then until he figures out it’s more advantageous to work with it).

Crosby’s pulse still rabbits away. Zhenya swears he can feel it through Crosby’s scalp, and he says softly, “It’s okay, Crosby, I’m here to help you. I’ll help you.”

Rabbit :) Prey animal. Zhenya touching him carefully, not like a wolf chewing on its prey, but like a human soothing a scared animal.

He hears the Superleague scout say something in ugly English, and Zhenya frowns, wishing he had spent any time at all working on English like Viktor had asked him to. He only knows scraps he’d picked up from the ridiculous Americans the Magnitogorskaya bratva worked with.

“He’s almost in heat,” he snaps at the scout. “Ask him about suppressants, does he have any?”

“His team should, they…” the scout starts, and he moves like he’s going to leave in search of the Canadians, but he hesitates.

Zhenya watches the scout’s eyes rove over Zhenya’s long, powerful frame bent over the crumpled omega beneath him.

“He’s a child,” Zhenya bites out, even as his body tells him he’s an omega. “I won’t do anything. Get help. Now.”

:) Spicy!

He puts real force behind the words, and even though Crosby doesn’t appear to know Russian, he shakes under Zhenya’s hold.

“Shh,” Zhenya murmurs, looking down at him. Those big amber eyes focus on Zhenya’s, and Zhenya’s hand on Crosby’s shoulder slides up to cup the side of his face.

“It’s okay,” Zhenya tells him, and he knows at least that in English. “Okay.”

Zhenya immediately comforting Sid even though he’s addressing the scout! We have not seen much of Zhenya being caring before this point; is this who Zhenya is? Is this what alphas do for omegas?

Truthfully it doesn’t matter because there’s no discord between Zhenya and his designation. He’s comfortable as an alpha. He is what he is, and no matter where it comes from, he comforts Sid in this moment.

Fuck the blonde women of Finland; Zhenya doesn’t want anything except the chubby-faced Canadian teenager he has laid out on the floor of a hockey rink, and since he can’t do anything about that, he needs to keep Crosby calm.

“You’re going into heat,” Zhenya tells him, knowing Crosby can’t understand. “You’ve done this before, yes? You’re old enough to know. It’ll be okay, we’ll get you suppressants, you’ll make it through. It’ll be just fine.”

Zhenya: “I will rationalize this. Yes. I can do that. Sure. Great. I cannot let myself YEARN. But I’m definitely going to give him command-sounding reassurances that definitely aren’t any alpha impulses leaking out of me.”

Zhenya’s eyebrows shoot up when Crosby moves a hand; it’s weak, but he manages to lift his arm enough to grip onto where Zhenya’s holding his face. It had taken Svetlana the better part of ten minutes to lift a finger, and he can see that Crosby, while young, is strong.

And, by the heat in his eyes, angry.

Zhenya grins at him, and he can feel Crosby’s pulse jump under his hands.

“Don’t be angry, kitten,” Zhenya croons at him, unable to help himself. “I kept you safe, didn’t I? I’ll get you back to wherever you belong, yes?”

Zhenya, you flirt. Also he’s like “Cool I’ll call him Crosby I’ll be professional and—oh wait he’s pissed off and cute about it haha hi Kitten :) hi :) I’ll take care of youuu :)”

Crosby recognizes the tone in his voice, if the way his eyes tighten is any indication. He opens his mouth to make a discontented sound that sends Zhenya into laughter.

“Come,” Zhenya tells him between giggles. “You’re fine, let’s go find your team.”

When he scoops Crosby up off of the ground and into his arms, Crosby makes a sound so undignified it makes Zhenya lean against the wall to catch his breath.

Honestly I’m not happy with the emotional tone here and had I not been writing 50k words in a fugue state and needing to publish them by fest time I think I would’ve changed this. But alas! Its imperfections make it unique… or whatever. Hopefully someone likes it.

Crosby is heavier than Zhenya expected; he’s dense, and Zhenya can glimpse how much of that density is dedicated to his ass. While Zhenya doesn’t lift weights with Metallurg anymore, he brawls enough to have very functional muscles. He can handle Crosby. He would like to handle him very, very much.

Yeah you do, Zhenya.

#careful everyone this is Very Long #anyways! i enjoy this scene too and this was fun!#ask game #😁#tkk notes

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 5: Don’t Even Think About It]

Hi y’all! I’m so sorry I’ve been gone for so long...finals and job hunting got the best of me. I will be updating more frequently going forward. As always, thank you so much for reading!! 💜😘

Series summary: You are an overwhelmed and disenchanted nurse in Boston, Massachusetts. Queen is an eccentric British rock band you’ve never heard of. But once your fates intertwine in the summer of 1974, none of your lives will ever be the same...

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, very very very little sexual content.

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

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

You’re in the crowd at The Rainbow, although you aren’t sure why; this has already happened.

Freddie is skulking across the fog-draped stage as he belts out the chorus of In The Lap Of The Gods...Revisited, all glistening tan skin and teased hair, a pillar of nimble black leather; John is only a silhouette in the mist. Brian looks like something that’s crawled out of a cocoon: leggy and insect-like, the sleeves of his flowing white blouse like a pair of wings. And Roger...Roger’s in the back, of course—“the hardworking one in the back,” he always says—with a glittery black kimono-like shrug hanging loosely off his bare shoulders. He’s drumming feverishly, sprays of Heineken flying off his floor tom, his forehead and blond hair dripping.

“Whoa, whoa, la la la, whoa...

I can see what you want me to be,

But I'm no fool,

It's in the lap of the gods...”

Somehow, as the fog clears, Roger’s eyes find you in the crowd. He grins in that effervescent, blameless way that he does. And now you know for sure that this is a dream; because there’s no chance Roger could see that far without his glasses.

There’s a banging noise coming from somewhere, but it’s muted, distant, splintered like an echo.

Dream Roger is fading away, dissolving as the lights shade to black on the stage. He disappears, and then Freddie does too, and then Brian, and finally John. The crowd you’re standing in is a sea of churning, indistinguishable faces.

The banging grows louder, closer. You can hear a new voice now.

You swim up from unconsciousness and punch into daylight. You’re laying on your back in bed in a small, rustic hotel room; it takes you a second to remember what the world looks like now. It’s not November at the Rainbow Theater. It’s December 11th, and you’re in Rome.

You sit up in bed and turn towards the door. Whoever is out there is knocking so forcefully that the distressed wood rattles on its hinges.

“Hey, Dorothea Dix, wake up!” Freddie is shouting through the door.

You rub your eyes as your feet touch the cool teak floor. The band flew into Rome late last night, and has one full day to burn before their concert on the 12th. You’d pitched the idea of visiting a few museums, the Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Roman Forum, St. Peter's Basilica, maybe even the Baths of Caracalla or the Temple of Venus and Roma; but it had been difficult to get anyone to commit at 2 a.m. when you were all exhausted and dragging luggage into the modest, quite geriatric hotel. Queen may finally have a Top 20 album in the U.S., but the streets aren’t paved with gold just yet.

“Darling, need I remind you that this was all your idea, you simply must wake up this instant—!”

You swing the door open. Freddie is standing in the hallway in a vivid yellow-and-black jacket and white jeans, tall boots, dark hair huge and curly, folded aviator sunglasses peeking out of his pocket.

“Get ready, bitch,” he says, grinning, then slips the sunglass over his dusky eyes. “All those gorgeous marble blokes with their cocks hanging out aren’t going to ogle themselves.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You start with the ruins, then end up at the National Roman Museum after lunch. Brian and Chrissie meander through the halls of cracked marble goddesses and heroes and piecemeal fractions of bodies, their hands intertwined; Chrissie took a few days off work to meet the band in Rome, and she’s glowing with the thrill of being reunited with Bri. Freddie is contemplating the displays, tapping his chin thoughtfully and chatting as John nods along and sketches in his notebook. There’s a photographer scurrying around snapping photos of the band for some magazine, to the vexation of the museum employees. They scowl from the corners of the rooms, their suits pristine and arms crossed, muttering to each other in Italian.

Roger leaps in front of a hulking statue of Perseus and mimics the pose. “What do you think?” he asks you, wielding an invisible spear. “Am I courageous? Divine? A mirror image?”

“You’ll have to work on the hair. And gain like a hundred pounds.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Pounds?!”

“Whoops. Kilos. A lot of kilos. But I think I like you as you are. Can I see your hands?”

Roger falls out of his pose, smiling. “Yes ma’am.” He presents his palms for inspection. The first weeks had been hell for him as his hands were worked into touring shape, repeatedly blistered and worn raw, iced and treated and bandaged by you each night only to be pummeled all over again the next day. Of course, Roger hadn’t described it that way; he shrugged at the blood and swollen knuckles, his eyes already alight with the promise of future shows. That’s just a casualty of fame, love, he’d told you. I’d take it all again and more. The last of his blisters have healed now into discolored callouses, rough whirlpools of memories from cities like Glasgow and Bristol and Helsinki and Munich. “I can get more pounds too, you know. I’ll be swimming in them. I’m gonna buy you a mansion when we get home.”

“Not so fast, blondie.” You graze your thumbs over his rugged palms and release him. Aside from your annoyingly incessant concern for Roger, your job hasn’t proved to be too taxing: there have been sprains, minor lacerations, severe hangovers, some alcohol poisoning, and one case of syphilis that you identified and sent the unfortunate man to a doctor for, all of which afflicted the roadies rather than the band.

“How’s Jo doing?” Chrissie calls over from where she and Brian are scrutinizing a sculpture of Apollo. She tosses Roger a smirk.

“Fine,” he replies briskly. “It was amicable. She understood. Nothing personal, just with the tour and everything we knew it wasn’t going to work out. Bad timing, that’s all.”

“Hm. That’s not exactly how she described it.”

Roger sighs, irritated. “Well, Chris, I really can’t control what she chooses to tell you, can I?”

“Shhhh. Play nice, love,” Brian coos, massaging Chrissie’s shoulders.

Roger pops a cigarette between his lips and moves to light it. A museum employee rushes over, waving his arms frantically. “Per favore, signore, no smoking near the exhibits—!”

“Oh, right, right. Sorry.” Roger tucks the cigarette away, then turns back to you. “Okay, no mansion then. What’s your fancy? Diamonds and gold? Tigers on leashes?”

“A harem of sensual Italian men?” Freddie suggests. Chrissie bursts out laughing.

“I hope not,” Roger says.

“You know what I really want?” you say, eyeing busts of Hadrian and Nero.

“What?” Chrissie asks.

“A camera. A really good one. To document all of this, our adventures. I mean, I know we have...” You wave towards the magazine photographer, who’s mostly snapping shots of Freddie and Roger. “But it would be nice to have my own photos. Carry them around in my wallet, force strangers to look at them, cover my refrigerator with them, all that sentimental stuff. So the minute you kids start making real money, I’d like a nice Canon. Or a Nikon. Or whatever the best camera is.”

“The Canon F-1 is quite good,” the photographer offers.

“Perfect! Clearly, I know nothing about cameras. And will need a hefty instruction manual. But I’m still excited.”

Roger winks. “I believe in you.”

As you all wander into the next room, Freddie spies a grand piano and sprints to it. He slides onto the bench and begins testing the keys. A distraught museum employee appears instantly.

“Signore, please, this is for the museum staff only, please signore!”

“Oh relax, darling, I won’t break it.” He begins experimenting with some light, jazzish melody.

“I love Rome,” you decide as you stroll past the Aphrodite of Menophantos. “Are you sure we can’t stay here forever?”

John frowns as he shades in whatever he’s drawing in his notebook. “It’s too bad we couldn’t make it to Florence.”

Freddie rolls his eyes from the piano. “Deaky, darling, this Dante’s Inferno obsession has got to go. It’s positively morbid.”

“He ends up in paradise,” John protests wryly.

Freddie snorts. “Yes, well, Florence is a three hour drive each way. Next time perhaps. Once we’ve all got private jets and Nurse Nightingale over there has her posh camera.”

“And we’ve acquired trophy wives to pose with us,” Brian jokes. Chrissie squeals and shoves him good-naturedly.

“We could go to the beach,” John proposes.

“A seaside rendezvous?” you say playfully.

Freddie hums and nods as his fingers fly over black and white keys.

“Signore...” the museum employee begs. The photographer circles Freddie and the piano, snapping picture after picture.

“The beach?!” Roger whines. “It’s too cold for that! We can’t swim, we can’t sunbathe practically naked, what’s the point? And we’re checking out that club tonight. The one by the hotel, what’s it called, Fred? El Fuocolio?”

“Il Fuoco,” Freddie corrects, amused.

“Ah. Forgive me for not keeping up with my Italian.”

“We don’t all listen to opera, you know,” you tease Freddie. He peers over at you thoughtfully, then continues playing. “I’ll go to the beach with you, John.”

He almost drops his notebook and pencil. “Will you?”

“Of course. I’ll have fewer opportunities in my life to see the Italian seaside than get tipsy and evade dodgy men at some bar, most likely. Although I will miss seeing your dancing.”

“Aww!” Now Roger is dejected, his huge blue eyes pleading. “You have to come with us.”

“Next time,” you promise him.

“This time.”

“Next time.”

“Fine.” He points at John. “Don’t let her get eaten by a shark or run off with some Italian playboy.”

John grins. “I’ll do my best.”

Two burly security guards arrive and begin shouting at Freddie in Italian. “Oh fine, fine!” he snaps as he stands and abandons the piano. The museum employee beams triumphantly.

“Fred, I think we’ve tormented them enough,” Brian says.

“Bri, can we go to the beach too?” Chrissie asks. “Please?”

“It’ll be chilly.”

“I have a jacket. And I can borrow yours if necessary.”

Brian chuckles. “Okay. We can go. Ostia’s the closest one, I suppose.”

“You’ll love it,” you tell him. “It’ll be like time travelling. You get to stand on the same shore that the ancient Romans did, bury your feet in the same sand, watch the same sunset. That should appeal to an astrophysicist such as yourself.”

“How poetic,” John muses.

Roger comes to you, shrugs off his black leather jacket, drapes it over your violet sweater.

“Roger, don’t—”

“I’ll miss you,” he interrupts, smiling, then presses his lips fleetingly to your forehead.

~~~~~~~~~~

The four of you take a crowded, decidedly unglamorous bus to Ostia and walk the beaches under the fading afternoon sun. It is chilly by the crashing water, and the wind whips across your cheeks forcefully enough to sting; but none of that stops you. Brian and John collect seashells, and Brian retreads all the details of the tour—all the things he wishes he could do over, all the things he wants to change going forward—as John listens, smoking and nodding when appropriate. You and Chrissie kneel in the cool sand and shape castles with your hands, giggle about how messy and lopsided they are, scribble notes in the soft sifting remnants of stone and quartz: Chrissie loves Bri, Buy Sheer Heart Attack today, Queen was here. And you’re thinking about Roger more than you should be, and Chrissie knows it; but she’s not going to say anything about that now.

When the boys come back, Bri sits in the sand next to Chrissie and begins to decorate her castle with the shells he found: scallops and clams and tulip shells and oysters and tiny lightning whelks. She claps and hugs him, leaps into his lap, pulls him in for a kiss.

“This is terribly unfair,” you say, staring morosely at your now even less impressive sandcastle.

John appears beside you and offers a massive pink conch filled with very small, pristine, glossy shells. You gasp and clasp a palm over your heart.

“Really?!”

“Yeah,” he says, puzzled. “Who do you think I picked them for?”

“You’re the best. The absolute best. A treasure. I owe you my life. Wait...” You pick up a thin shard of driftwood and write into the side of your sandcastle: John Deacon, and then a heart encircling it. “You are officially lord of the sandcastle.”

“A prestigious position, surely,” he says, smiling, then passes you the conch. “Go on.”

As you place the shells, he finds a dried bit of seaweed and impales it on the piece of driftwood, then plants the makeshift flag on the tallest tower of the castle.

Brian glances over and shakes his head, his mess of curls shivering. “Chris, love, I fear we’ve been outdone.” Then he nods to the words you and Chrissie carved with your fingertips. “Leaving letters in the sand?”

“Promotional material,” you quip; but you can tell the wheels in Brian’s magnificent mind are whirling.

As the sun sets over the Mediterranean Sea, golden speckles of light floating disembodied on the waves, the four of you get gelato and browse through bookstores and wander down cobblestone streets. And on the bus ride back to the hotel, Brian points out constellations as you hold the conch shell in your lap and doze against John’s shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~

Brian and Chrissie depart to get dinner when you arrive back at the hotel, taking the rare opportunity for a date night. You try to think of a more romantic destination than Rome. Paris? New York? Venice? Probably none of those. You push the images that flood your thoughts away: candlelit meals with violins serenading in the background, the warm cascading glow of streetlights, tossing coins into fountains older than either London or Boston, gazing over the table and into the ensnaring oceanic eyes of the person who won’t be there. Roger.

“Do you think Roger and Fred are back yet?” you ask John in the lobby. He’s still got his notebook in his jacket pocket, but he won’t let you see it.

“I doubt it, but let’s find out.”

You ride the elevator to the band’s floor, still clutching the conch shell, as John fields ideas for dinner.

“Roger’s going to want pizza and beer, but we might be able to get Freddie to go for something more swanky. Actually, he’ll probably order dessert first. There’s a restaurant down the street that I heard has phenomenal tiramisu and lasagna.”

“Oh god. I would kill for a good lasagna.”

“No need for all that,” John says. “We don’t have enough cash for your bail.”

“If they serve lasagna in prison, you can leave me here.”

“But then who would patch up our debaucherous roadies?!”

You laugh as the elevator lurches to a halt and the doors open. “Just call me up in prison and I can talk you through it—”

You step out and turn down the hallway; then all the air vanishes from your lungs. Roger’s fumbling with his key as he tries to get into his room...and pressed between him and the door is a raven-haired, modelesque woman in a short red dress. His eyes are closed, her tongue darting between his lips, his free hand skating up her bare thigh and beneath her dress. And suddenly you’re being dragged back into the elevator, John’s arms locked around your waist. He hits the button for the lobby then reaches for you uncertainly.

“Are you okay—?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m totally fine, I’m...” But for some reason, your throat is burning and your eyes are blurring with tears. You try to blink them away and they drop down your cheeks like rain.

“You’re not,” he realizes softly.

“Goddammit,” you choke out, sobbing.

“Hey, don’t do that,” John pleads. “Please don’t do that, please don’t cry—”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, this is so stupid...” You fan your face and try to wrangle your breathing. The way he was touching her...I can’t forget the way he was touching her. “I am so stupid.”

“You’re not,” John flares. And when he opens his arms you rush into them, burying your face in his jacket as he pulls you closer, drowning you in his warmth. “You’re not stupid,” he says, quietly but severely. “You’re wicked smart and wonderful and perfect, so you’re not allowed to say anything to the contrary. Alright?”

“Okay,” you whisper. And it occurs to you—as your breathing slows, as your tears subside—how incomparably comfortable this feels, homey even.

John clears his throat. “Hey, not to break this up or anything, but you’re sort of stabbing me with the conch shell.”

Incredibly, you laugh as you back away, swiping at your eyes. “Sorry.”

The elevator doors open, and John leads you out into the lobby. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says. “We’re going to go to that restaurant on the corner and I’m going to order a lasagna—”

“John, I don’t think I can eat anything.”

“Doesn’t matter. Did I say you were going to be forced to eat it at gunpoint? No I did not. I’m going to order a lasagna, and if you want some awesome, and if you don’t we’ll just sit and talk. And you can nibble table bread or drink so much wine you forget today ever happened, whatever you want. You make the rules. But we’re going, and I’m ordering lasagna.”

“Okay,” you reply, sniffling, smiling up at him gratefully.

The restaurant is teeming with tourists, and you end up seated at a tiny table near the back with very dim lighting and a roaring fireplace. It’s deliciously hot, burning away your misery; or, at least, making it feel as if it might belong to someone else, as if maybe you heard about it from a friend or in a song, maybe even dreamed it. You take Roger’s leather jacket off and hang it on the back of your chair. When the waiter arrives, John orders for you.

“One lasagna, the biggest one you have, and extra table bread, and uh...” He skims the menu. “Two red wines and a Coke. And a sparkling water. So the lady has a selection.”

“Si, signore. Grazie.”

When the waiter leaves, John lifts off his jacket too, then unbuttons his shirt to his navel. The sweltering glow of the firelight dances across his pale skin in a way that is mysteriously distracting. “Well, it definitely doesn’t feel like December in here.”

“I’m sorry, maybe they could move us—”

“No, that’s alright, I know you like it. And one should be sweating in Southern Italy, don’t you think?” He tears off a hunk of bread when it arrives and plates it for you. The conch shell lays on the table by the salt and pepper shakers, to the visible confusion of the waiter.

“Thank you. For everything, John. Really.”

He gazes at you with those blue-grey eyes that can look like either clouds or steel depending on the occasion. Tonight they are misty, like the froth over waves, impossibly soft. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he says gently. “I don’t know if that helps at all, but I think it should. It doesn’t mean anything to someone like Roger, what you saw tonight.”

You sigh. “I guess it doesn’t. And I’m sorry, I know it’s ridiculous, I know that, and I’m just so frustrated and...and...I get it, I get that I have no right to care about anything Roger does, which is why I feel like such an idiot for reacting this way, but I just...I just...I’m just so...so fucking torn up about it and I’m sick of being surrounded by it all the time and I’m...I’m so...I’m...look, I’m sorry, can you button your shirt or something? That’s very distracting.”

“Oh, it’s distracting, is it?” John asks, grinning.

“Don’t you dare—”

He undoes several more buttons. “How about now, are you sufficiently distracted?”

“John, no!” you wail, laughing.

“I wouldn’t want to do anything to distract you from your tortured inner monologue...” He removes his shirt entirely and tosses it to the floor. “How are you now?”

“Very distracted,” you wheeze.

“Excellent.” He smiles, resting his face in his hands, the firelight flickering over his bare chest and shoulders, reflections of flames in his eyes. “See, you don’t look so sad now.”

“No, I guess I don’t.” You bite into your hunk of bread. But still, the way he was touching her...

John sips red wine and smirks teasingly. “You know...if you ever get tired of the celibate lifestyle...I’m always game.”

You laugh, shaking your head, and open the Coke bottle. “That’s very much appreciated. But I don’t just want sex.”

“I know,” he replies, solemnly now. “You want him.”

“That’s pretty pathetic, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic at all.” That seems like it must be a lie, but John sounds genuine.

“You’re my best friend, you know,” you tell him. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Certainly not get treated to authentic Italian lasagna.”

You chuckle. “I’m sure that’s the least of your talents. Veronica is a very lucky woman.”

John nods, staring down at the table now, pushing crumbs around with the back of his hand. “If you say so.”

And, in the end, you managed to eat your half of the lasagna after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you get back to your hotel room, it’s very late in Italy...which means it’s only early evening in Boston. You pick up the phone and resolve to use the last of your miniscule weekly allowance for a long distance call.

Your mom answers on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Guess where I am right now.”

“Hopefully on a date with that nice Roger boy.”

“Oh my god, Mom.”

She titters pleasantly. “Tell me, dear. Germany? No, no. Spain.”

“Rome.”

“Oh!” she sighs, steeped in nostalgia. “Daddy and I went there on our honeymoon! Ages ago, of course. But it was wonderful, otherworldly. Like getting lost in a fairytale. How do you like it?”

“I love it,” you murmur. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

“Always, dear.”

You twirl the phone cord around your fingers anxiously. “How did you know that Dad was the one?”

“Hm.” She pauses; and you can envision the way she takes a step back and glances up at the ceiling whenever she’s thinking something over. Oh, maybe I do still miss parts of Boston. “Well...you know Daddy wasn’t single when we met. And neither was I.”

“Yeah, I think I remember that part of the story.”

“I’m not sure if I can explain it, dear. Truly. I...” She drifts off, pondering it. Finally, she says: “I’d had plenty of other boyfriends. I’d been interested in other people. And people are all so different, they all have something unique to offer to your life, whether good or evil. But when I met your father...I just felt like I couldn’t live without him. Suddenly nothing else seemed possible if he wasn’t in the picture. Like if he wasn’t there I’d spend the rest of my life missing him. Does that answer your question?”

“It does, yeah.” You close your eyes and feel the dark Mediterranean night air breeze in through the open window. The conch shell has found a temporary home on top of the antique dresser. “I love you, Mom.”

“Aww, I love you too, honey. And you’ll make the right decision, whatever that is.”

You look out into the constellations that Brian introduced to you earlier, Aries and Fornax and Perseus. “I hope so.”

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

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