#Queen Band Fan Fiction

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

Hormones - Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader FanFiction

Summary/AN: I initially intended this to be smut or implied smut, but it came out rather fluffy. I might write a part two if people are interested. The reader is horny and on her period, and has something to share with Roger.

Warnings: mention of periods and pregnancy (non-descrip.), sexual innuendos, etc. Mainly fluff.

Word count: Aprox. 700

Only four months into your relationship you had a pregnancy scare with Roger. Luckily, it was just your period acting up due to stress, but you still decided to go on birth control. Birth control is more acceptable these days, so you were able to get prescribed it rather easily.

Your doctor said, if you’re lucky your period will stop completely. You still got yours but the pill helped regulate your cramps and lowered your flow a bit. You still had horrendous mood swings. Whenever you were in your period you would get insanely horny as well. Hormones are hormones, what would you expect?

You got your monthly yesterday and let Roger know. He always seems a little bummed when you get it, partly because that meant most sexual things were off the table, but also because it pained him to see you in pain.

Roger was sat on the couch, T.V. on a low volume as he flips through a magazine. “These reporters are rubbish. They aren’t reporting anything!” he scowled as he read through the article about the band.

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving his cheek a quick peck. “Whatcha doing?” you ask, and Roger tosses the magazine away.

“Just reading complete and utter lies,” he mumbles, giving the magazine a side eye. He brushes off the ill feelings about the article and turns his head to meet yours, quickly kissing your lips.

“What’s up?” he asks, and you smile. “Nothing much,” you explain. You find your way around the couch and land in Roger lap.

“I know you’re in your period, Y/N,” he says. “You know how I feel about that stuff.” Roger wasn’t entirely grossed out by menstruation, but he felt that you should be taken care of and rest while on your period, not handled like some one night stand.

“Okay, Mr. Jumping-to-conclusion,” you huff. Roger rolls his eyes with a smile. “I’m not saying that you had that intention, but you know how riled up I get when you sit on my lap like this,”

He was right. If you were him, you wouldn’t be able to resist when you had a breathtaking girl straddling your hips who wouldn’t hesitate to start grinding on you at any moment.

You shrug. “Well sorry that I want to show my beautiful boyfriend some love and affection,” you say, crossing your arms in a dramatic way, and Roger laughs. “Don’t be like that,” he chuckled, giving you a kiss which breaks you out of your bit.

“What can I help you with, love?” he asks. You wrap your arms around his neck again, gently gazing into his.

“I want to have a baby,”

Rogers' soft gaze turns wide. “Y-you want to have a baby?” he stammers his words as he confirms your question. You nod and your smile slowly fades. “Do you not want one?” you ask. Roger quickly shakes his head. “No, no. Of course I want a baby. I’d love to have a baby,” his hands slowly move down to your stomach where your child would be resting. “I just- got caught off guard,” he explains.

You smile at his hands on your stomach, imagining you round with his child. “I want your baby.”

“Is this because you’re horny?” he questions. “Maybe,” you say. “But who says a baby has to be made out of pure, non-sexual love, and not lust?”

Roger nods at your point. “Well you’re going to have to stop taking your pills if you’re serious about this,” he explains. “I’m serious,” you tell him.

You've been thinking about this for a long time, actually. Even before you began dating you imagined yourself round with Rogers child, and his strong arms wrapped around to cup your stomach.

His lips suddenly crash with yours. He smiled against the kiss, humming as his hands moved up to grip your hair lovingly. You breathlessly part from the kiss. Roger leans his forehead against yours. “We’re gonna have a baby…” he whispers, and you smile. “Mhm…” you hum as his hands gently hold the non-existence fetus in your stomach. “You’re gonna be the best daddy there ever was…”

You hear a small snicker from Roger. “Trying to get me even more riled up?” he jokes. You hit his shoulder and laugh. “Shut up,” you say. He grins and gives you another kiss. “And you’re going to be the best mommy in the world, I promise…”

[daughterofhecata]

having a niche taste in music is important to introduce biodiversity into fanfiction titles

[freddie-mercury-rising]

A picture is worth a thousand words. So, let's allow some photos to inspire us!

The premise of this collection is to take photographs of Queen (Et al.) and use them as a starting-off point for creativity. Whether a photo inspires you to write a drabble, a ficlet, a vignette, a poem, a multi-chapter fic, a dialogue, a screenplay, etc. or to draw, sketch, or paint, then feel free to post the photograph that inspired you along with your creation into this collection.

The goal is to inspire each another to create!

[rogertaylorsgirl]

hii, i’m nikita, i’m 20 and i’m searching for queen fans to be friends with! feel free to request anything <3

i will focus more on roger but i will try to write even for the other members! also, the requests can be also for the cast of bohemian rhapsody even if i enjoy writing for the real them more 💌🥁 thank you!

[queen-fandom-calendar]

Okay! I am so so sorry to keep bugging you but I have the dates for Jimercury (21st-24 June), Deacury (16-19th August), Joger (6th - 9th December). I will be announcing the prompts for Jimercury next weekend!!

This is wonderful! I will gladly add those dates to the calendar, and I look forward to both events! This is very exciting!

Thank you!

[adrenaline-roulette]

Thinking It's about time I get back into some writing.... It's been FAR too long..

Does anyone have any requests? Y'all know what I write usually, but if you pull my leg enough, I'll try writing for anything!

I'll try and update some of my WIPs too, but wanna dip my toes in first sorry!

[steelycunt]

just found out thru a tiktok that had 30 thousand (!!!!!) likes that bart x sirius actually even has a ship name now . “killerqueen”. we’re in hell . how is this happening . like if ur bored atp pls just move onto a new fandom and let the rest of us have peace please

[cha-mij]

Ineffable Ambiguity

Chapter 3

AO3 user Chamij

Munich: 1985

The air was still. The civil twilight sent scattering sunlight shining golden across the arches the Neues Rathaus. It’s spire reached high into the damp, chill air. Birds were beginning their chorus as two tired street cleaners trudged their carts along Marienplatz. The Glockenspiel band came to life to call in 5 o’clock as shadows darted over the four puttos of the Mariensäule. The cleaners’ route took them to the pillar. One (newly on the job and curious of his surroundings) hesitated. He stared at the statue. A winged boy donned in shield and helmet smote a snake. He called to his companion, who having seen it a hundred times before had kept walking.

“Ernst! Can you tell me what these are for?”

Ernst had always been enthralled by the architecture of the city so could surreptitiously provide an answer.

“They’re Puttos, Otto. Cherubs. Little chubby angels using swords to smite the trials the city faced during the occupation of the Thirty Year’s War”.

Ernst pointed to each in turn.

“There you see him striking a lion which represents war. There a basilisk for pestilence, then the dragon of hunger, and finally this one. The snake of heresy.”

Otto listened intently, then asked:

“And the shields? What does it say on the shields?”

“Each one signifies victory over the trial. This one says ‘Svper-Aspi-Dem’. Put together they form a verse from Psalm 91. Super aspidem et basiliscum ambulabis, et conculcabis leonem et draconem”.

Ernst saw Otto’s confused expression and felt abashed by his ranting.

“Sorry. I adore the architecture of the city. Always have but people either don’t ask or don’t listen, so I seldom have the chance to talk about it. This is my favourite piece, so you were either lucky or not in having me guide you tonight depending on how much you mind me rabbiting on. The latin roughly means ‘Thou shalt walk upon the asp and the basilisk: and thou shalt trample underfoot the lion and the dragon’”.

Otto was not only impressed at Ernst’s knowledge, he was also incredibly pleased that he had taken the time to answer his questions so fully. He smiled at this man. A stranger, really, who had guided him through silent streets and curiosity”.

“Thank you, Ernst. Truly. It’s rare to find someone that would just know all of that. Let alone someone that would take the time to talk about it in such detail to someone they barely know. Please feel free to rabbit on at me as much as you like whenever we’re on shift together. It truly would be a pleasure listening to you”.

Ernst was evidently flattered. He combed his hands through dark hair and smiled. That morning had started a tradition of Otto receiving what he would call his Private ‘Tour of Munich’ whenever they were on shift together. Much later, they would gaze at those puttos from the window of a Marienplatz apartment and be thankful the cherub smote the snake.

Outside the air was still. Birds began their chorus as two cleaners began a quiet love story. Munich was calm. Well, most of Munich was calm. Inside a party was winding down. What had begun early the evening before was coming to a slow end.

Black and white feathers littered the room. Countless champaign bottles lay empty on tables, floors and chairs. A few remaining guests were dancing, while others sat at tables topped with empty glasses. Several had passed out. It had been a fantastic birthday party.

If there was one thing Crowley appreciated about having to actually do hell’s bidding once in a while, it was that hell really had no idea what heaven classed as a sin in this age. This meant that they were often asked to lure the odd human to damnation by tempting them to actions no longer classed as “damnable” but more “not really the done thing but everyone’s doing it these days”.

Along the way this had introduced Crowley to many humans that they had classed as far too good for torment. Many of these he had not only protected from Hell’s gaze, but even befriended. One of these friends was currently sat beside Crowley mindlessly twirling the tassels of his epaulets. Tired, red eyes looked at the small group sat around him.

“You know darlings, I have no idea how I’m going to top this one.”

A voice came from across the table.

“Whatever you do Freddie I know you’ll make it worthy of your 40th".

“Of course I will Brian. Life’s for living after all”.

“We have to get that bloody album done first Fred or that film will never get finished”.

Crowley, who having drank three times more than any other at the party half sat and half lay in the chair next to Freddie Mercury. Their long red hair lay limp from a head that dangled from the chair. Earlier in the evening they had dazzled even Freddie. This was the night of the Black and White Ball where guests were requested to dress in black and white drag attire.

The guests never could figure out how Crowley had transformed themselves so beautifully. A slim black gown hugged a slim but shapely figure. At close view it had been intricately embroidered with scales etched in black sequin. Specks of glitter highlighted elegant make up while Auburn curls twisted over two magnificent black feathered wings. The most striking detail was the eyes. Yellow with pointed pupils.

Freddie, himself dressed magnificently in harlequin trousers and imperial jacket, at first didn’t recognise his friend.

“And just might you be, darling?”

Even Crowley’s voiced had changed beyond recognition. It was soft, full, and confident.

“It’s me you bloody fool. Don’t tell me you don’t recognise me”.

Freddie was taken aback,

“Crowley! You look beautiful! Who are you meant to be?”

The demon smiled, extremely pleased with themselves.

“I couldn’t think of which celebrity I wanted to be, so I thought to hell with it, I’ll be a flying snake.”

“And a fabulous one you make too! Those wings must be really fucking heavy!”

Crowley smiled a wicked grin. He had been thinking of this joke all day. It was just a shame no one was there to understand it.

“Aye Freddie, they are a hell of a heavy burden to bear”.

The party was as wild as expected and all through the night Freddie and the other guests were impressed that even as it got hot enough for many to strip completely, Crowley never removed their wings.

Crowley raised their drooping head and slurred the question:

“What film’s this then?”

Freddie explained they had been asked to write some songs for an upcoming film about some immortal, and how there was a scene that he just could not write for.

“It’s this flashback scene. The main guy’s remembering how when he was cast out of his clan he settled in the highlands with the love of his life. It’s all gushy and romantic, and then she goes and dies of old age on him, so he burns the house down. We just can’t seem to get the feeling right.

Crowley was awake now. Awake, but not sober enough to remember the extent of their following ramble.

“Who the bloody hell wrote that crap? Who would want to live forever?”

Brian, more awake and clearer thinking than any present leaned forward.

“Why not?”

“Well, its right there in the film! All that time flies by and all that happens is that anyone close to you dies or leaves you. Everything turns to ashes and you’ll have no place to call your own.” Passionately Crowley continued. “I bet in all those centuries there was only one moment worthy enough to be worth all that crap. No one is worth waiting forever for”.

Brian and Freddie were listening intently to this. Brian dared to ask what Crowley thought would count as something worth the wait.

Crowley seems to look inwardly. Their eyes dimmed and even their wings relaxed. Freddie thought to himself how well those feathers had lasted the night’s escapades and made a mental not to ask Crowley who supplied the wings when his friend was in a better state. For some reason the description of this flick had struck a nerve. A very raw nerve.

Crowley gave a sad smile.

“Stars.”

“Stars?” this was said in unison.

“One day soon I bet there’s going to be a camera good enough to really see the stars for what they are. Not just stars but whole galaxies. Nebulas, even.”

Brian’s curiosity was piqued.

“What’s a nebula Crowley?”

Again, a sad smile.

“It's where stars are born. I bet if you ever get to see them, you’d think that was worth waiting forever for”.

Freddie looked at his dear friend. He wondered now who had hurt them so badly and saw in them a grief and loneliness he had never seen before. Freddie, not knowing the half of Crowley’s true self, decided they must be in love, and an unrequited love at that.

“Who are they, Crowley?” He asked softly.

But it was too late. Crowley had fallen into a drunken stupor, but Freddie had seen the tear that had escaped.

About a year later a parcel arrived at Crowley’s flat. Attached to a copy of “It’s a Kind of Magic” was a note that read:

“Hello sweetie. Don’t be mad but your theory on forever was exactly what Brian needed for that song we needed. Side two, song one. Thank you, Crowley. It can be worth it you know. Waiting. And everyone deserves to be waited for.

Much love, Freddie”

Crowley had completely forgotten about that night’s confession but was grateful for Freddie’s touching sentiment. However, they never allowed themselves to listen to that song sober, and Bentley never played it.

Crowley wasn’t there when Freddie passed. The old habit of moving on when people started to notice a distinct lack of aging had forced them to back away, but upon hearing the news Crowley shut themselves away for two weeks.

“You were far too much of a treasure Freddie. Enjoy the good afterlife. If there’s one thing, I know for certain it’s that you’re not in the alternative”.

Years later Crowley was surprised to find out that Brian May had studied astrophysics. The conversation had popped up in Bentley when Aziraphale had mentioned it.

“Bugger if I know why he’d go and do that, Angel. Mind you, he always was a clever bastard”.

During the drive a miracle sound chimed, though too quiet for even angels or demons to hear. Bentley skipped the song that was currently playing in favour of “You’re my best friend” and somewhere in the good afterlife Freddie Mercury smiled.

“Finally. Even you can’t wait forever, Crowley”.

my favourite good omens hc is and will forever be that crowley personally met freddie mercury and hozier (during their respective eras) and waxed poetic about aziraphale so much that they used his words in their lyrics

[unknownperson246]

a/n: can you make duff and izzy’s sister reader that he just met but instantly fell in love with her to make the moans in rocket queen pls?

hi there everyone seems to love Rocket Queen fan fiction 🤷‍♀️. I don’t know why everyone loves them lol but it’s okay because I love writing them

Fuming With Anger:

Words: 567

Warnings: *smut* *p in v* *cussing*

✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:*

You were Izzy’s little sister. You were 3 years younger than him. Izzy and you always had an amazing relationship as siblings. Both of you would hang out even on the days he was on tour. Some days he would drag you along with his band and sometimes his friend Duff would come over. Duff had a crush on you for a long time. You thought he was cute but you weren’t really into the idea of dating your brother's friends until Duff made you a paper flower. You thought it was a very sweet and kind gesture. You wanted to finally go out on a date with Duff. One day Duff invited you over to the studio without Izzy or the rest of the band knowing anything. Duff was there alone with a microphone. 

“Hi Duff, why did you call me down?” You asked him with deep curiosity.

“Just thought we could record something” A smirk crept up on Duff's lips. 

“Sure what did you wanna record” you asked Duff. 

“Okay so me and the guys wanted to record Rocket Queen and all you have to do is fake moan,” Duff said.

“That’s all?” You asked. 

“Maybe we can make it real moans” you smirked, kissing Duff on his lips. 

Duff froze in place. His fantasies about you were coming true. He was shocked that you kissed him. He let it happen. He felt himself harden with your touch. You watched the bulge grow and you immediately ripped off his pants. Without wasting one second Duff started the microphone to capture the sounds the tape recorder was recording. You grabbed Duff's big dick and placed it at your entrance. Shivers went down Duff's spine seeing you naked. He felt kind of embarrassed that he had a crush on his bandmate's sister. 

“This doesn’t feel right,” Duff said jokingly

“Well, what do you mean?” You asked Duff before sticking his tip inside of you.

“You're Izzy’s little sister,” Duff said.

“I can keep it a secret if you can Duffy,” you said, playing with his hair with your right hand while your left hand was holding his dick in place. 

“I like that,” Duff said, coming closer to you.

“Mmm so big” you moaned as you let him enter you.

You felt heavy thrusts inside of your pussy. Duff picked you up while he kept thrusting inside of you back and forth. After your hips collided you finally let out some satisfying moans for Duff. 

“Fuck. Ohhhhhhh” a very exaggerated moan left your vocal cords. You cry out as your arms hold onto his warm body.

You felt his legs shake. His head crashed back into the wall and it left a hole. He didn’t even notice the pain. He was only focused on you. 

“Y/N,” he groaned in pleasure. He held on to your tits trying to feel your body close to him.

His whole body would soon lean against the wall he pulled out and came all over the floor. You collapsed onto the ground feeling lightheaded from all of the overstimulation of him hitting your g spot multiple times. You and Duff both fell asleep on the studio couch. The next morning the whole band walked in on you in Duff's shirt that was oversized on you and your panties. You were lying down next to each other. Izzy was fuming with anger.

[hollywoodroses]

Sharing is Caring (a steven adler fan fiction)

steven watches you have sex with axl while recording rocket queen. read what steven was possibly thinking at the time.

Based on the song rocket queen by guns n’ roses. written in steven’s pov.

Warnings: smut including voyerism and exhibitionism. Minors please DO NOT INTERACT.

Steven’s pov:

I walked my girlfriend, Y/N to the studio. My band and I were in the middle of recording our debut album. We were all waiting for today to come as we were going to record our song, rocket queen. The song was popular in our club scene back in 1985. Axl, my best friend and frontman of our band had the greatest idea (in his opinion) to record my girlfriend moaning during a sex act.

“Are you sure you are okay with this.” My girlfriend asked me as I smiled.

“Yes, and remember what I told you. I’ll be in the room with you, I trust Axl. You don’t have to worry.

She sighed as we both entered the recording room. My bandmates ready to get the party started.

I started to panic as i realized what was going to happen. When Axl and the boys described was they wanted from my girlfriend it seems amazing at the time. I started to get second thoughts but I brushed them aside as I kissed her lovingly.

My hand started to unbutton the trench coat she was wearing, it was covering her nakedness which made me blush for her.

She seems unfazed, I’ll bet excited to have a sexual encounter with my front-man. I guess I didn’t know how wild she could be until today.

Once my girlfriend was comfortable in all her naked glory, I decided to sit in the corner of the room where I wouldn’t be a distraction for her.

I watched as Axl smiled as she looked at him with innocent eyes. I was not expecting this. He slowly walked up to her like a cat ready to play with a mouse. When he finally got close enough to her, he grabbed her shoulder and kissed her. It was just a peck as she stopped to look over at me in the shadows, all I did was nod my approval.

When Y/N got the okay from me, she taped a small microphone to her thigh as she sat on a table ready for Axel to have his fun.

Axl kneeled on the floor as he got close to her clit, he takes a small kitten lick to, I guess, see how she feels. I could hear a small whimper come from her which made my heart skip a beat. He looked over to me but I was silent. My silence was all he needed.

Axl started to lick and kiss her clit as her moans became louder. I felt my hand go to the uncomfortable area of my jeans but I stopped myself. I can’t believe I am getting off on my girlfriend being with another man. I just let them have their fun. I knew there will be a time for me.

When I notice her enjoying herself, it had been awhile since we started the recording. I slowly got up from my seat and walked over to the table where she was sitting. Once I got to my girlfriend, I pushed Axl away from her and took his place.

I put on hand on her stomach to convince her to lay down on the table. I softly kissed her as she moaned into my mouth, as I kissed with more heat I started to lightly tap her leg and went low until reaching her clit.

When I started to finger her, she stopped the kiss and started moaning. I smiled as I knew I was the only one to make her feel good. I felt her clit get tight and I knew she would burst as I felt her wetness on my fingers.

It only took seconds for her to explode and her cum to squirt on the floor. She gasped for air as I removed the microphone from her bare thigh and carried her to the coach to finish our business.

Axl chuckled as the rest of the band were too shocked to say anything.

end

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

Friends will be friends - Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader (Chapter One)

Summary: Roger and the reader are best friends, and friends must always be there for each other, even if stronger feelings come into play.

AN: I randomly thought of this while getting something from the fridge. Chapter two coming later today.

Warnings: Mention of breaking up, sad Roger, comforting, no swearing (surprisingly?), hidden feelings, friends to lovers

Word count: <1k

Enjoy!

On a Saturday night, you sat alone in your flat, slumped on the couch with a fashion magazine. You were expecting a drunken call from your best friend, Roger, complaining about how you didn't come and how you were missing out. You've known Roger for a long time. You were the best of friends.

Your girlfriends, and even some guys, have questioned how you are able to befriend such an attractive man while not attempting to date him. The truth was that you had feelings for Roger. You tried to deny your feelings for him, but there was nothing you could do about who you were and who you weren't attracted to.

You promptly answer the phone when it rings. "What's up?" you say into the receiver, assuming it's Roger. On the other end, you can hear heavy breathing, as if the person was hyperventilating. “Roger? "Are you there?" you inquire. "Jo... she..." he sobs, his breathing becomes uncontrollable. "Can you tell me what happened? Take your time," you say as you guide Roger through his breathing.

"She- she broke up with me," he mumbles. Would Jo really do something like that? They appeared to be a happy couple from your perspective. What could have caused that to happen?  "I'll be there right away. Are you home?" you inquire, and he hums. "Y-yeah, yeah, I'm back home." You say your goodbyes quickly and walk out the door. You speed over to Rogers, almost hitting three red lights in the process. 

You gained entry into his flat. Roger is curled up on the floor below where the phone is hung on the wall. You sprint over to him, taking him into your arms and letting him cry into your shoulder. You whisper soothing words of "It's going to be okay," and "I've got you."

Roger's agonizing sobs made your heart ache. Roger has never been struck by such emotion before. You had no notion that he could be so vulnerable.

You managed to get him onto the couch and off the hardwood floor. You take a pillow and place it on your lap while he rests his head on it. "I thought she loved me..." he murmured. As he speaks, you try not to cry. "Some people simply lose love, and there is nothing we can do about it. We're all human, and people change. But that doesn't mean there isn't someone else for you out there."

You adored Roger wholeheartedly. He had been your shoulder to cry on all these years, and now he had yours. You could confess your feelings for him and pour your heart out to him, but you wouldn't allow yourself to do it. You had feelings for Roger, but you were also his best friend. He could have called one of the guys, but instead, he called you because he knew you were always there for him.

Roger sniffles and wipes his eyes away as his sobs subside. "What if I don't find somebody?" 

"Perhaps they're looking for you." Your fingers run gently through his hair, and he hums at the soothing sensation. His breath smelled strongly of alcohol. You weren't surprised he was drinking. Roger had a minor drinking problem that coincided with his love of partying.  "Come on, let's get you up and into bed." He groans like a child, but you manage to get him to his room and put him down. "I should go home now, but I'm always around to talk. Okay?” 

“Stay,” he says. “What?” you ask, genuinely confused. “I- I can fix up the extra room if you want. I just don't want to be alone. Please don't leave me.” the desperation in his voice brings tears to your eyes. The room was far too dim for him to see. 

“I’ll stay. Roll over," you say. You lie down behind him as he rolls onto his side. You spoon him gently from behind, and he melts into your embrace. “Get some sleep, okay?” Roger gives a nod. You exchange a quick 'goodnight' before he drifts off to sleep. But you stay awake, staring into the back of his head as tears well up in your eyes with the fear of being only seen as a friend. Read Chapter Two -> Here

[freddie-mercury-rising]

Revisiting this little ficlet about Delilah:

Freddie & Delilah 😽

Source: Sotheby's

[polin-erospsyche]

I know there wasn’t time in the show, but I would love a scene of Colin picking out/designing the engagement and wedding ring and just see his thought process. Any fic writers out there, please feel free to write us one!

Ok, anon, know that when you send an ask like this to a person who writes fan fiction for fun that person will go "oh what a great idea! I'll have a go at it!" and then you end up with a 2K scene of Polin fluff. It's not exactly what you asked for but I hope you'll like it, especially considering that I haven't written fanfic in the longest of times (preferring playing with my own characters) and I was afraid of writing for Colin and Pen and not make their voice justice. I tried my best and I had a lot of fun writing it!

The quill's scratch against the thick paper resonated loudly in the quiet room. Penelope's thoughts raced faster than her hand could write. The gossip of the last few days created a frenzy in her mind, an unusual state for her. She had been writing for years and had always controlled the words she put down on paper. Yet recently, it had become harder somehow. The growing pressure from the Queen and London’s elite weighed heavily on her. People knew who she was, and she had vowed to use her quill more consciously. There was no more hiding behind her words and her column.

What she had failed to account for were the demands from the ladies and gentlemen. The socialites and aristocrats, with their veiled threats and insistent flattery, expected her to navigate their intrigues and scandals with care, yet with a sharpness that would entertain and inform. Each letter she received and each whispered rumor added to the weight on her shoulders. Her reputation had become a double-edged sword, granting her influence but also binding her to an unwritten contract with her readers. She remembered telling Eloise once that she had power; now she was fully realizing that power always came at a steep price.

She returned her quill to its inkwell on the desk, leaned back in her chair, and let out a long exhale. Her hands momentarily covered her face before gently sliding down to rest on her pregnant belly. Absentmindedly, she twirled her wedding band, tracing the contours of the bee and flower, finding comfort in the familiar ridges of the ring.

“You seem pensive.” The voice startled her from her thoughts. “How’s the writing going?” She looked up to see Colin standing in the doorway, a familiar and knowing grin on his face. He knew she had been struggling to write anything of note lately.

“How’s Thomas?” Penelope asked back without missing a beat. Their son was always a good topic of conversation; the state of her writing, not so much.

"Fast asleep," Colin replied, his grin softening into a tender smile.

"Of course he is. You spoil him too much. Did you know he won’t sleep unless you’re the one putting him to bed and singing him to sleep?" Penelope teased lightly.

"I'm certain that's not true."

"Well, it's been fifteen minutes since you put him to bed,” she glanced at the clock striking nine fifteen, “and here you are already. Yesterday, it took me a good half hour. I think I'm losing in this deal we made."

Balancing their household duties, social and professional obligations, and caring for their toddler had made finding quiet writing time increasingly rare. They had agreed to take turns putting Thomas to bed, granting each other much-needed solitude. Lately, though, Thomas had developed a clear preference for his father's bedtime routine, falling asleep in a matter of minutes, leaving Penelope with very little quiet time indeed.

“I can leave if you need some time,” Colin offered.

“And leave me to face the blank page?”

Colin furrowed his brows and strode purposefully across the room to stand beside her. Peering down at the paper she had been writing on, he remarked, “Calling it blank might be a bit of an overstatement.”

Words had been jotted down, so technically, it wasn’t a blank page. However, it was not a good page, and she could not publish it in this state. Yet she needed to submit something tonight to the printer—the Queen was expecting it.

“I think you’re overthinking this,” he added. “I think you need to step away from your desk.”

“Colin, I can’t. The Queen is waiting. I have to finish writing this tonight. Apparently, I’ve become an entertainer to the Queen and an ear for everybody else’s gossip,” Penelope said with a hint of frustration.

“Weren’t you always listening?”

“Believe it or not, there’s a difference between lurking behind a potted plant, eavesdropping, and having people visit, hoping for a favor in return,” Penelope retorted with a touch of irony.

“I, for one, am very glad you are in the center of the room. Really, you should be in the center of every room.”

At that moment, she looked up at him with eyes devoid of humor, only to meet his gaze filled with love and admiration. For a brief moment, the air seemed to escape her lungs. They had been married for months. They had a child together. They had settled into a routine that suited them both. Yet, sometimes it all still felt like a fleeting dream, almost too good to be true. It was everything she had endlessly dreamed of as a young girl, and now it was real, tangible. She wondered if she would ever fully grow accustomed to the way he looked at her before deciding that she preferred to always be pleasantly surprised.

He gently placed his hand on top of hers, stopping her fidgeting with the ring. Interlacing his fingers through hers, he gently pulled her towards him, and she moved with very little resistance. He slid his arms around her. This close, he smelled of ink and baby powder, a scent so comforting that she felt the tension release a little from her shoulders. Before she had time to fully sink into the safety he provided, she felt him pulling her closer still, slowly leading her away from the desk until they were standing in the center of the room. Tilting her head up to meet his blue eyes, she saw a glint of mischief, as if he was proud of himself for successfully drawing her away from her work. It was as if he whispered to her - it’s all right, the Queen will wait, the words will wait.

“You know how I know you are preoccupied?” he asked, still holding her, his fingers drawing small circles on the small of her back.

“I’m absent.” She bit her lower lip. She knew she had been. There but not entirely, part of her chained to her desk, to the next words she had to write. They were both like this, maybe it was the affliction of being a writer, a wandering mind. But he seemed to have a much easier time concealing his wandering. She envied his ability to be fully present with the ones he loved, giving them his undivided attention as if nothing else in the world mattered. It was part of his charm.

He gave a low chuckle. “No,” he said, to which she raised her eyebrows, so he quickly added, “I mean you are a little...” He paused as if choosing his words carefully, “...away sometimes.” She gave a resigned sigh. She was aware of her distractions, but she really would have preferred not to address them tonight. Before she could entirely withdraw from him, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. His gaze still held hers, intense. His breath warm against her skin. Then his thumb trailed over the wedding band she had been fiddling with. “It’s your tell.”

“The wedding ring? Is it a tell that I’m married to you?”

“You play with it when you are anxious or preoccupied. I see you, I know.”

Of course he did, just as she knew his tells. The way he furrowed his brows. The way he sometimes seemed to be searching for the right words. The way his quill hung in the air just so when he was writing, as if ready to catch the next word mid-air. She knew some of those tells, but living together, they had become mirrors for each other. They saw each other, they knew each other—sometimes, she thought, better than they knew themselves.

“I find it comforting,” she said to him, her hand suspended in the air between them. “Even if my writing days end up in ashes, I have this, I have you. It’s a promise that things will be all right.”

“That will not happen. It’s just a new normal, but by now, I believe we are adept at dealing with new normals.” He gently caressed her belly. “I think you’ll be writing as long as you’re breathing, and I love you for it. But for what it’s worth, I’m very glad you love the ring. I was so nervous the day I had it designed.”

“You, nervous? Why?” He had been rather swift in his proposal and securing the rings, but she could imagine him poring over ring designs, trying to guess which she would prefer. She wished she could have told him that it didn’t matter; as long as it was him she was marrying, she would have been happy with any ring. But she particularly loved the one he had chosen, so she asked, “How did you choose it?”

At that, he smiled wider and brought both of her hands up so that the rings were visible, his thumbs gently caressing over them. “This one,” he said, holding the hand with her engagement ring more firmly, “reminded me of you. Its simplicity and delicacy reminded me of your voice in the letters you wrote me. Also, the jeweler told me it symbolized loyalty and faithfulness. This one,” he continued, bringing up her hand with the wedding ring, “was to symbolize the Bridgerton family.”

“Our family,” Penelope chimed in—a representation of the family she had always, in some ways, been a part of, whether unofficially or more officially now through marriage. A family that loved her, and she loved them as her own. A family that had welcomed her with open arms.

“Yes, our family,” Colin agreed, nodding. “I’m not sure why the bee became our symbol, especially considering...” He trailed off, his face somber, lost in a memory he seemed reluctant to revisit. “Well, you know,” he finished, his expression sober. “But then again, in the morning, the world had Hyacinth, and what an absolute force she is—both a joy to us and a threat to the world. So, the bee represents us, a cycle of our family, and apparently it also symbolizes celebration, prosperity, unity, and resilience.”

She looked at her rings and then up at him again. He had never fully explained why he had chosen those rings, but now she understood it better. “It’s a representation of us,” she said.

“Yes, us and what I hope our marriage will be.”

“Resilient,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “We certainly are that.”

“You more than anyone else I’ve known, although don’t let Eloise know I’ve said it.”

Penelope let out a small chuckle. “I don’t always feel resilient,” she admitted, her tone more serious.

“That’s what we do; we’re a team. We remind each other that we’ll find our way. Besides, you’ve faced much worse and come out of it.”

She leaned into him, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. She allowed herself to be enveloped in the warmth of his embrace, and as they swayed gently in the flickering light of the surrounding candles, she felt the weight of her responsibilities, the demands of the Queen, and the expectations of the ton seep away. For a moment, she was a girl again—not a mother, not a famous writer—just a girl dancing in the arms of the boy she loved, who, by some twist of fate, loved her back just as much and had decided to intertwine his life with hers.

After what felt like an instant but must have been longer for the clock now struck close to ten, Penelope stopped their swaying. “Would you stay? Would you write with me? Or read? But stay until I’m finished?” 

Colin gently kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I’ll always stay with you.”

She rose on her tiptoes, her hand coming around his neck, pulling him down to her. Their breath mingled before his lips found hers, pulling her closer as she let out a small moan. His hands traveled up her back, sending shivers down her spine, while her own hands gripped at the lapels of his jacket before finding their way into his hair. His lips moved downward, along the side of her mouth, down her cheek, then her neck, leaving a hot trail of kisses. His hands grew more frenetic, gripping the fabric of her dress.

“Colin,” she whispered between a protest and a pant, “Colin.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, the vibration warm against her collarbone.

“I have to finish... the Queen... the printer...”

She tried to grasp for words, for sense and logic, even as she attempted to push him away in vain. Truth be told, if he didn’t stop kissing her now, she wouldn’t care much about anything else besides their own needs and desires. That's how quickly Penelope had become pregnant after giving birth to Thomas.

“Colin,” she said more insistently, feeling her resolve to finish her column hanging by a thread.

“All right, all right,” Colin said, stealing one last kiss before meeting her eyes with hooded dark blue eyes. “One day, I’ll have a word with the Queen.”

“And tell her what? That you’d prefer me in our bedchambers rather than behind my writing desk?”

“Now that’s an idea!” he exclaimed, beaming as if it were the best idea she’d ever suggested.

“I’m afraid she’d find it preposterous, considering she’s the queen and managed to have a plethora of children.”

“Does that mean you’re open to the idea of having a plethora of children?” he asked, playfully stealing her words.

She chuckled, “Let’s have our second, and then we’ll discuss the possibility of having more.”

“Discuss? Because you want to discuss what we’ll do in our bedchambers if having more children is not an option?”

“You know what I’d really like to do right now?”

“No, tell me.”

“Finish it,” she said, looking back at her desk and the half-written piece of paper, “so that we may go to our bedchambers and discuss all of this afterwards.”

He seemed to catch her suggestive look, as he did not protest. Instead, he kissed her forehead before leaving the room momentarily, returning with a fresh stack of paper and settling down at his own desk, positioned next to hers.

Penelope smiled as she watched him concentrate, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. She felt a renewed sense of purpose and returned to her desk. The page was no longer daunting; it was a canvas waiting for her to paint with words. With a deep breath, she picked up the quill once more. This time, the words flowed more easily, each sentence building upon the last. The gossip and intrigues of the ton found their place in her column. She wrote with a clarity and sharpness that had eluded her earlier.

As the clock struck midnight, Penelope set down her quill and read through her work. A smile of satisfaction spread across her face. It was done.

She stretched before standing and walking to stand behind Colin’s chair. Sensing her presence, he had stopped writing, but his focus remained on the page before him. She slid her arms around him, her hands running up and down his chest. She whispered, “Want to go discuss your writing in our bedroom?”

“Absolutely!” he said, rising and kissing her passionately.

[freddie-mercury-rising]

This scenario came in my head a while ago and I thought I you could turn it into a real story? Sorry this request might get a bit long.

During a Queen tour in America in late 70s or early 80s, a man who idolises Freddie goes to one of their concerts and after the concert, he is summoned backstage by Freddie. It turns out that Freddie took a fancy to him and somehow realised that he was gay too.

And in the end Freddie takes the man to his hotel and they sleep together and he even stays the night.

Bonus point for bottom but dominant Freddie. And more bonus point if the man can't believe the man he idolises has taken him to bed.

One Night on Mercury

He was just a quiet, Midwestern guy. Some might have called him boring. Then, a Queen concert changed his life forever.

And one thing Lenny McAllister wasn't after that was boring.

[rogertaylorsgirl]

imagine being roger’s first real girlfriend. the members of the band would be so shocked at seeing him so committed to someone. of course, they would try and piss him off, talking about how much he’s whipped for you. but are they wrong? absolutely not.

this man would do anything for you. you could ask him the entire universe and he would make sure you had it. every time you would walk in the studio, he would leave the drums so fast and come to hug you, while the others complain about finishing the damn song.

you made him softer, sometimes he hated that, but he couldn’t do anything about it. you helped him calm down during one of his famous tantrums and you also made him romantic. he wasn’t the type to cuddle or show too much affection before, since the girls he dated were nothing serious, but now with you it was all different. you had changed him for the better.

[xenosagaepisodeone]

I think taylor swift is the first female celebrity ive seen that has been subject to that particular brand of wishful "is secretly gay" fanbase neuroses that is usually reserved for male celebrities. it's fascinating! I've never even seen natasha lyonne subject to this furious speculation. when I think back to people who insisted that members of one direction or MCR were in secret relationships with one another, it's obvious that their fans were taking the image curated by these men's stylists and pr teams and carving a narrative arc out of them. the distant-yet-personal existence of the celebrity lends itself to these kinds of fan interactions as much as it does any other. speculating on someone's sexuality is grotesque and inappropriate, but the lives of celebrities are selectively fed to the public to create a kind of fiction that encourages this; it is what sustains a celebrity's continued existence in the public eye. the idea of closeness to a certain kind of malleable person is what is being sold as much as their music. in tandem with this, what causes people to believe that two male band members are dating is the same logic that makes people ship a shounen anime lead and his rival.

i don't really know anything about taylor swift but whats amusing to me is that the gaylors seem to want her to be gay for...it's own sake? there's no sasuke to her naruto that im aware of. her coming out would just be unveiling that theres another subset of culture she can lay claim to. queen of SEO I guess.