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dowoonie-namjoonie · 3 years

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Day6 Finding Out You’re Pregnant

A/N: I don’t own these gifs, this is all just for fun, please enjoy. Also, fellow mydays I know I’m loyal to Sungjin...but Wonpil! He’s sooooo cute, alright thanks for listening to my ted talk read on!

Sungjin

Everything seemed normal today, finally Sungjin had a night off from work, so he decided to spend the whole day with you. It was a wonderful surprise, usually your husband would spend 24/7 writing and composing songs for the planned comeback, but today he was chill. Half the day both of you went to the mall, Sungjin got you some new heels for a formal dinner a few nights away, then he got both of you some well deserved ice cream, but at the end of the day was spent on the couch. On the couch, cuddling together which you both rarely did, watching a romantic comedy. It seemed Sungjin really wanted to spoil you today with things you liked.

Your belly was full from just eating a delicious dinner, so when your stomach began to twist in pain you just assumed it was gas or something. Then, half way through the movie, the pain started to grow. It didn’t feel like gas anymore, instead you felt like throwing up the pork you had just eaten.

“You okay,” Sungjin asked, concerned that he was making you uncomfortable. He noticed awhile ago that you were moving around a lot, an uncomfortable look plastered on your face.

“Yea, um...just feeling a bit...-blerg!”

Quickly, you covered your mouth as you felt bile rise up your throat. Flying off the couch you made your way to the bathroom, begrudgingly filling up the toilet with vomit. Sungjin followed close behind, even holding your hair.

“Dear god,” you whined, sinking against the wall next to the toilet.

“Honey,” Sungjin cooed, stroking the back of your head with comfort. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I guess...,” you started, confused on why you randomly you just got sick. That’s when it hit you, lately you’ve gained weight but you assumed it was your increase in appetite, piecing it together your realized you’re late. “Oh my god!” You squealed, covering your mouth with the thought you’ve just had.

“What is it,” Sungjin asked, kneeling down in front of you. He took your face into his hands, worried that there was something wrong with you, it was clear on his face.

“Honey,” you smiled, putting a hand on top of his, rubbing it gently. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“What?” Sungjin’s reaction was monotoned like you’d expected. His eyes were wide with shock as he searched your face trying to see if you’re lying or not. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes! My periods late, I’m gaining weight, my feet are swelling, now this...”

“I um,” he let go of you, shocked at the sudden news. “I guess you’re right.”

“Honey,” you crawled over to him, grasping his arm to see if he was mentally okay. “Are...are you okay?”

“Of course,” he sighed with content, the news just hitting him. A bright smile washed over him, “I’m gonna be a dad!”

Jae

It was perceived that Jae didn’t want kids, so as you held the positive pregnancy test in your hands you didn’t know how you were going to tell him. Jae and you have been dating for three years now, everything was going great for both of you. At some point you’d even expect a ring on your finger. But now that you’re pregnant, you’re not sure who happy Jae would.

You sat on the cool tile of your bathroom floor, millions thoughts running through your mind. This was the last thing you needed right now, Jaw as going to be home any minute now, tired from another day of work.

Right on cue, Jae shimmied the front doors lock, your body tensed as you heard the echo from the bathroom.

“Babe,” he yelled, kicking off his shoes in the outcove at the front door. “I’m home.”

Going further into the shared house he didn’t see you anywhere, instantly growing confused at where you could be. Did you go out and you just forgot to mention it to him? Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Babe?” Jae noticed the shut bathroom door, which was never shut. It was a system you both had, leaving the door open met it wasn’t occupied or smelly to go in. Softly, he knocked at the door, slightly you flinched at the action. “Are you in there?”

“Y-Yea,” you stuttered, trying to not put him off or give any indication you weren’t okay. Jae knew better, he could hear in your voice that cracked tone you had when you were crying.

“Why are you crying,” he asked, a reassuring smile on his face. Even though you couldn’t see it, it still gave the same effect on you. “Can I come in?”

Gosh, you so desperately wanted to say no, pick yourself up, and pretend that nothing ever happened. But, that wasn’t fair to Jae. Gently, you pushed yourself off the ground, placing the pregnancy test on the sinks counter, then unlocking the door without a word. Instantly Jae came through the door, he was right, you were crying over the sink trying to hide your face from him. You hated when he saw you like this.

“Babe,” he cooed, coming over to you at the sink. “What’s going on, do you wanna talk about it-What’s that?”

You placed the test on the sink so he’d have access to it. It was another form of not telling him yourself, rather you’d want the test to tell him. “Is that a...pregnancy test?” Jae picked it up, with cation of course, he knew you had peed on it already. Refusing to meet his face, you didn’t quite see his reaction at first. “Two lines means?”

“It’s positive, I’m preg-pregnant Jae,” you muttered, head still down faced to the sink.

“Ok...,” he dragged out, placing the test down back on the sink. Turning his attention on you which, mind you, was needed greatly. Jae went up behind you, placing his head on top of yours since you were much smaller than he, his arms wrapped around your waist a comfortable warmth rushing through you. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he tried calming you down, holding onto you tightly.

Jae may have not known why you were crying, but he thought it was better not to pry the answer out of you. “Well, we’re going to have a baby,” he started, rubbing your tummy lightly. “Guess we should finally get married too. What do you say?”

Younghyun

Younghyun and you have been trying to get pregnant for awhile. Both of you have been married for four years now, with no luck of children your way. Nothing you did got you pregnant, but it seems luck struck the both of you. You had been late this month so you were suspicious that you might be with child. While Younghyun was at work you went to a local pharmacy, grabbing a pregnancy test off the shelves. Long story short, the pregnancy test was positive, and you’ve never been happier.

You made the most over dramatic plan you could to tell Younghyun, your idea fell on a gift to give him. With haste, you ran to the store grabbing all the things you needed to make this “gift”.

After that, you put all of it together, placing it into a polka dot bag. Due to your excitement, you decided to go to his work than wait for him to come home. You took a bus there since he was using the car, the whole time your leg shook with anticipation as you held onto the gift sercurly.

When you got to the front desk of his studio you asked the woman there for Mr. Kang Younghyun. She instantly recognized you, this wasn’t the first time you’ve been to his office, sometimes you’d come over to eat lunch with him.

Anyway, the woman gave you a visitors pass, so you walked to his office. Opening up the door to reveal Younghyun, you could only assume he was composing a song at the current moment. He sat in his seat, playing the bass and every so often writing down what he played on a sheet in front of him. He was so entranced that he didn’t even notice your arrival.

“Brian,” you raised your voice, grabbing his attention. Your husband was shocked to see you since this was a surprise visit.

“Love,” he wholeheartedly smiled at you, glad to see his beautiful wife. Just who he wanted to see since he was having a hard time with the song he’s writing. “What are you doing here?”

Younghyun went over to you, yanking you into a soft, chaste kiss. He wrapped his arms around your waist holding you close, you would do the same except you had a gift in your hand. “I was in the neighborhood,” you joked, pecking his lips once more. Even if you are married to him, no matter how much you kiss you still get flustered by it.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, and I decided I wanted to give a gift to my loving husband.”

Younghyun’s eyes glowed with admiration as you held the present up to his face. You were just the best, in his time a need you came to make him feel better.

“What’s the occasion,” he let go of you so he could open the present with more room.

“Nothing,” you bit your lip, lying of course, but you wanted him to figure it out himself. Younghyun discarded the bag pulling out a jar of-

“Pasta sauce?”

He looked confused rightfully so, you saw not to long ago a pregnancy surprise with Prego sauce.

“Not just any sauce,” you smiled, inching him to figure out what you were doing.

“Now with...10% more cheese,” he laughed, reading the jars facts.

“No,” you whined, walking over to him. “What’s the name of the sauce?”

“Prego,” he looked at you, really trying to figure out why pasta sauce was his gift. He didn’t even like red sauce that much.

“Jesus Bri, I’m pregnant! Prego-pregnant! Get it!”

“Love,” he dropped the sauce, thankfully he didn’t break it. He grabbed you hard, giving you a bear hug, littering your face with kisses. “Are you actually? Is this a joke?! This would be a mean joke?!”

You shook your head, laughing at how anxious he seemed. But man, was he so ecstatic about a baby. “I can’t wait to meet her,” he calmed down, placing a hand on your flat stomach. For a moment he imagined you with a big pregnant belly, you were his life and so was this baby.

“Oh,” you giggled, kissing his cheek lightly. “What makes you think it won’t be a boy?”

“Oh, I just know. Ah...” he sighed, pulling you into a more gentle hug this time. “We’re having a baby...”

Wonpil

You found out this morning you were pregnant, expertly hiding it from Wonpil through out the whole day. You wanted to tell him in a different way, so most of the time you spent today was on unique ways to announce it.

Two months ago, you and Wonpil finally got hitched. The wedding was grand and the honeymoon even grander. Wonpil knew how to make you feel special without a doubt. Of course, you hadn’t expected to get pregnant so quickly, but that’s because of the lack of protection (if you catch my drift).

At the end of the night, Wonpil decided he wanted to shave his face. More like he needed to, his stubble was poking through and JYP wasn’t exactly a fan of that look. They always made him shave it, not that you minded.

As he was getting rid of his facial hair, you snuck past him into the bathroom with a blue, dry erase marker in your hand.

“Oh, Y/N,” he looked at your through the mirror as you stood behind him. Bouncing on your heels in excitement. “Do you have to go to the bathroom or something...don’t worry I won’t look.”

Even though you and Wonpil are married now, he still get’s shy and blushy about certain things. “Actually babe,” you started, uncapping the marker. “Can you solve this riddle for me?”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now.”

“Ok,” he smiled, face lathered up with shaving cream, but he stopped just for you.

With the marker you drew on the mirror, the first thing you wrote was “there’s”. Wonpil raised a brow, but let you continue, then you wrote a “a me.”

“There’s a me?”

“Not done yet,” you muttered, writing the word “baby” right in the gap in the E.

Wonpil questioned the riddle, reading it in his head trying to decipher.

“Read it outloud, that might help,” you giggled at how cute Wonpil looked when he was thinking. He bit his lip in frustration, sorta mad at himself that he couldn’t figure it out.

“There’s a me baby? There’s a me...”

“Where’s the baby?” You asked, leaning against the wall.

“In me,” he questioned again. “There’s a baby...in me...There’s a baby in me? Is that the riddle?”

“Think about it,” you simply said, Wonpil looking at you without a clue in the world.

Then it clicked.

“OH, you’re serious! There’s a baby in you,” he exclaimed, grabbing your hand. You shook your head vigorously, smiling at the sudden enjoyment. “I can’t believe your pregnant! I would kiss you right now, but I don’t wanna get shaving cream on your face!”

Dowoon

This was all Dowoon actually, he started to have his suspicion about you being pregnant when you ate a whole jar of banana peppers. You hated spicy food so seeing you randomly craving a whole jar of it was a odd thing to see. Dowoon, this sweet man, didn’t want to freak you out and force you to take a test. After all, this was all so sudden for him too.

Dowoon proposed to you a few weeks ago, he’d always said he wanted to get married at the age thirty, but he decided to break that rule just for you. There was no doubt in your mind, this was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Now you weren’t even married and expecting a child. It may sound selfish, but he just needed to know.

After practice, Dowoon had gone to a convenience store, buying the most expensive test off the walls. He wanted the results to be the best they could be. He had to admit though, it made him red in the ears while trying to figure out what test was best.

When he got home, he was met with you standing directly in the doorway waiting for him to come home. Lately, you’ve been more clingy with him, it was definitely a new feeling to have you attached to the hip. A few days into the clinginess he started to get used to it, gladly accepting the spontaneous need to cuddle.

“How was work Dowoonie,” you held your arms out, expecting him to whisk into a hug with you. Dowoon, instead, stood there with a freaked out look on his face.

“Was work bad?”

“Um...it was fine, but-Y/N, I need you to do something for me.”

“Alright,” you spoke suspiciously. Taking into notice how fidgety he looked, nonetheless he held out the plastic bag in his hand. Confused, you took the bag, opening it up to a pink box. “A pregnancy test? What’s this about?”

“You’ve been acting different lately, not a bad different but...different. I think you might be...you know, pregnant.”

“Does that freak you out,” you asked, gulping afraid to hear a negative response.

“Yes-I mean no...I don’t know! Are we really ready to have a baby?”

“Well...is anyone really read to have a baby?”

Lovingly, you took his hand, interlocking your fingers with him rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “I might...have some news for you then?”

“Oh?”

“I may have already taken a test...and I may have already known I was pregnant for a day or two.”

“What!” Dowoon looked shocked, a look a disbelief riddled his face. Hey, you felt very guilty that you hid this from him, but come on! This was a hard thing to talk about in general. “You didn’t tell me?”

“I tried,” you sighed, rubbing your temples with one hand. Dowoon obviously looked upset which broke your heart, the last thing you wanted to do was hurt him. “Don’t be mad.” Cooing to him, pulling his arm gently, placing your head into his chest wrapping your small arms around his frame.

“I’m...I’m not,” he muttered out, giving up and putting his hand in your hair. Softly, running his hands through it.

“We may not be ready,” you started, squeezing him lightly. “But we need to try, for our baby.”

#day6 #day6 fanfic #day6 imagines #day6 network #day6 dowoon #day6 wonpil #day6 brian #day6 younghyun #day6 young k #young k #day6 jaehyung #day6 jae #jae #jaehyung #day6 sungjin #sungjin #wonpil #dowoon #pregnancy

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briyourmotherdown · 4 years

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Give It All For You, Part 1 (Brian May x Fem!reader)

Word Count: 10.45k

Warnings: Strong language (I’m British, it’s to be expected), slight innuendos???, possible historical inaccuracy, ANGST.

Description: You have loved Brian May since the first time you met him. Trouble is, he’s nearly impossible to tie down, and you’ve become cemented in the role of the best friend.

A/N: Okay so I’ve been working on this little mini-series for months. Literally too long. It’s still not even done, BUT I wanted to get the first part out at leAST. Uni and life have made finding creative inspiration a major struggle as of late. I think there will probably be around 3 parts to this?? I’m not quite sure yet, it could be a couple more if I find the motivation. BUT ANYWAY I really hope you enjoy it even though it’s angsty and I can’t write ajdgsdbskjbkdhgs.

Spring, 1977

“C’mon,” you slur, your red dress shimmering in the dim lights of the local pub, “dance with me.”

The bass is heavy in your chest and you feel alcohol coursing through your veins, but you’re only intoxicated by the man in front of you. His eyes glimmer like stars, hooded, sizing you up before shaking his head with a laugh.

“You’re drunk.”

“So are you.” you push yourself further into him in an attempt to push him onto the dancefloor, but more of a reason for you to get closer to him, to feel him.

“But you’re plastered.”

You roll your eyes, “Isn’t that the whole point?”

He rolls his eyes right back, wrapping his arm around your waist to steady you, “Fine, one dance.”

His hazel eyes are hooded, focussed solely on you, and you bask in his gaze. His hands on your body send electric shocks over your skin, and you tell yourself over and over that he doesn’t feel the same; he is only your good friend. That’s all you will ever be to him.

“Is that how you ask a lady to dance?” you tease, cocking a brow.

“You asked me!” Brian laughs, amused, “Alright, m’lady, may I have this dance?”

He holds his hand out to you, dipping his head like a gentleman, and you take a moment to take a mental snapshot before accepting his hand, tugging him into the centre of the pub to dance.

So you both danced, and for that night, just for that night with his hands on your hips, you could almost pretend that he was yours. And as he stared into your eyes, you let yourself fall into that false sense of security of imagined love.

But let’s start from the beginning, from the moment you met on a cold winter’s night in 1972...

“Christ, it’s cold as a witch’s tit in here,”

Your best friend, Freddie, shivers as he hops up and down to warm himself up, scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and jaw,

“Why did you want to open up the stall today, of all days? Even that old git Brutus has closed up shop.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, shuffling the secondhand clothes on their hangers, “I need the money, that’s why. I’m about to be homeless if I can’t pay my rent.”

Freddie hums, kicking a stray pebble on the floor, “You know, my friend has a spare room in his flat he’s trying to fill. He needs some extra money too. I’m sure he’d offer you the room for cheap.”

“Which friend?”

“His name is Brian, Brian May.”

“Ah,” you wave your hand in recognition, remembering his name being brought up a few times, “the guitarist one, yeah?”

“That’d be the one! I think you’d like him, actually-”

“Like who?” your other friend and coworker, this one much more blonde, chimes in as he strides into the small stall, very much late. Roger.

“Brian.” Freddie answers.

“Oh yeah, she’d definitely like him.”

You shoot them both a look, “And what makes you say that?”

Roger holds up a fringed kimono up to himself in the mirror, “He’s quiet, reads a lot, likes the stars; basically a total nerd. You’d love him.”

“And he always wears matching socks. It’s bizarre, he literally has a thing about matching socks.” Freddie adds.

You chuckle, “And when will I get to meet this nerd?”

“Well, tonight. We have a gig.”

“Hm,” you pretend to think, “I’ll have to clear a few things from my schedule…”

Roger nudges you with his shoulder, knocking you slightly off balance,

“Alright, alright! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Later that evening you meet your friends at the pub where they're playing for the night. It’s a dingy dive that you never would usually go, but you’d do anything to support your friends on their journey to success.

You’re dressed up all pretty in your flares and platforms, leaning up against the bar as you wait for Queen’s set to begin. Though the weather outside is freezing, the inside of a pub is always hot, air thick with the scent of ale and sweat, but the moment Queen steps on stage, it’s easy to forget your surroundings. You’d heard Freddie sing, and you’d certainly heard Roger crash about on his drums, but you’d never seen them like this.

They were magnetic. You were all absorbed. Freddie’s outfit caught the light each time he flounced across the stage, but his voice was what captured everyones attention. He was full of passion and power; he owned the audience, he could control everyone with one simple snap of his fingers.

Roger was his usual self, exuding sex-appeal and confidence. Girls fawned over his long blonde locks and plushy lips. The thing about Roger was that he was the total package of beauty and intelligence, that is if you could tie him down.

You’d never met the bassist, John, you think his name was, but he managed to capture your attention in the most unsuspecting way. He was all shyness and modesty, but not radiating an ounce of hesitancy. You can tell, even at first glance, that he would be the perfect fit for Queen. He would bring balance.

That leaves one final member, the oh-so nerdy space loving boy who Freddie and Roger believe you would adore. But he doesn’t look so nerdy when you see him. He’s pure mystery, almost as though he’s surrounded by a navy blue mist, an aura- or something ethereal. He’s breathtaking, is all you can think. Long legs adorned in velvet, dark curls fall in front of his eyes as he looks down at his guitar. He’s focussed, bottom lip jutting out in concentration, but he takes a moment to glance up. That’s when you know you’re done for. He scans the pub, small enough to make out everyone’s face, and his eyes land on yours. It’s fleeting, but you can swear they linger. Maybe that’s just what you want to tell yourself. Suddenly you want to feel his eyes on you all the time. You want to be in his daydreams, in his thoughts, you want to be his muse.

You float through the rest of their set, eyes glued to Brian as he plays expertly. You sway to each song, ignoring your surroundings and focussing solely on the music, and when it’s over, you cheer as loudly as you can.

“I want to have your children, Roger!” you scream, bursting into a fit of giggles as the blonde scans over the room to see the source of the scream, and upon seeing you, chucks up his middle finger with a laugh.

You make your way to the small stage, well, it’s more of a two feet high platform, and open your arms up widely to Freddie.

“You,” you tackle him into a hug, “were fucking incredible! You’ve been hiding this side of yourself from me for how long?”

He blushes, returning to the Freddie you know, “You must have brought it out of me, love,” he turns to the rest of the band, “Y/N, this is John Deacon, isn’t he lovely?”

Freddie gestures to the bassist as he smiles shyly, offering you a wave and a small, “Hello.”

“You were amazing out there, seriously!” you compliment him, and he blushes, though his smile widens.

“Now, darling, this is Brian May!”

Upon hearing his name, Brian looks up from where he is putting away his guitar, standing up straight and brushing his hands off against his trousers.

“Brian, this is Y/N, she hangs around Roger and I sometimes.” Freddie shoots you a playful wink as you roll your eyes.

“Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” you reach a hand out to shake, which you so usually wouldn’t do, and it sends embarrassment right through you. But to your luck, he takes his hand in yours with no hesitation.

“Likewise,” he smiles, still shaking your hand, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Oh God.

“All good things I hope?” you realise you’re still holding his hand and let go, letting your hand sit awkwardly at your side.

Jesus, you’re so nervous.

“Mostly.” He winks, and it sends you reeling. His eyes are dangerous, and they travel up and down your figure in a way that sets you alight.

It goes quiet as you stare at each other, Freddie glancing between you two with his eyebrows raised. Though he says nothing about it. Instead, he claps his hands,

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I need a drink!”

1977

The next morning, you suffer through your pounding headache, wanting to just wallow in your loneliness.

Of course, Brian went home with someone else last night, sneaking away through the back door to avoid flashing cameras and prying eyes, leaving you to call yourself a taxi back home, where you cried for an hour before passing out.

It’s not the first time he’s done this, but it still makes you feel pathetic every time.

There’s a knock on your door, and you heave yourself out of bed despite the spinning in your head and the nausea churning in your stomach. Whoever is at the door will just have to deal with your dishevelled appearance.

“Y/N? Jesus, you look like hell.”

Alas, the infamous Roger Taylor stands on your doorstep, mouth agape at your messy hair and leftover smudged makeup.

“I’ll slam this fucking door in your face, Taylor.”

“Hostile,” he laughs, hands up in mock surrender, “I’ve just come to pick you up for lunch, or have you forgotten?”

Feeling like a total ass, you smack your hand to your forehead, “Shit, Rog, I’m so sorry. Come in.”

He follows you into your flat, eyes scanning over the slight mess. He turns to you, concerned; you’re not usually one to let your flat get so messy.

“We don’t have to go, Y/N, we can reschedule, it’s not a problem.”

You scrunch up your face, searching the kitchen for a glass of water and ibuprofen,

“No, no, I want to go, you’ll just have to bear with me.”

“Long night?” He teases, leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter to stare at you.

Shooting him a glare, you slide passed him and into your bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. Roger follows you, leaning against the doorframe.

“You know, I think you owe me an explanation as to why you forgot about our lunch date, and threatened me.”

Clicking your tongue, you turn to him, “I went to a pub with Brian last night, got plastered, now I’m hungover. Simple as that.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost knowingly, but doesn’t say anything.

“No need to be so sassy with me, I'm only asking.”

You sigh, “I know, I’m sorry,” he smiles, “now get out, I have to piss.”

You slam the door and hear him laugh from the other side, “What a lady!”

“Bugger off!”

Finally feeling human again after cleaning up and getting dressed, you slide a massive pair of dark sunglasses on the bridge of your nose and head out to where Roger parked his car.

“Ready, princess?”

You shoot him a sickly sweet smile, “You act as if being called princess bothers me.”

Roger laughs, starting the engine and getting into gear, “You got me there.”

The drive to your local favourite cafe is short, a totally walkable distance if you didn’t feel like death warmed up. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence until pulling into a parking space, when Roger turns to look at you once again. Your head is pressed against the window, eyes closed beneath your sunglasses, lips slightly parted as you take careful breaths to avoid nausea.

“Christ, love, you really do look like shit,” he chuckles softly, a hint of concern laced in his insult, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

With one look at him, tears well up in your eyes against your will, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks. Roger’s eyes widen, and in an instant, you’re pulled into his arms over the console as you begin to cry. He shushes you softly, one hand running up and down your back,

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s going to be alright,” you’re thankful for having such a good friend like Roger, especially when he puts up with your hungover mood swings. However, you must look like an absolute trainwreck with your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks, “Let’s go inside and get some food and a cup of tea down you, yeah? Then if you like, you can tell me what’s troubling you.”

You nod, sniffling and wiping away your tears on the back of your hand. Roger jumps out of the car and rushes to the passenger side, where like an angel, he walks you into the cafe with a hand on your back.

You attract a few disparaging stares when you both sit down at a table, a small chuckle slipping past your lips. Roger, now across from you, looks puzzled, “What’re you laughing about, hey?”

“Everyone’s staring.”

He scans the room indiscreetly, a smile taking over his features, “God, they are, aren’t they? Haven’t they ever seen a hungover girl crying before?”

You scoff, “Bugger off, they’re obviously staring at your trainers.”

He gasps, looking underneath the table to examine his sparkly pink converse, “What have you got against my trainers?”

“Me? Nothing. But a bunch of elederly ladies out for lunch might. I’m sure they think your hair is a disgrace too. You should cut your hair like McCartney had it at the start of The Beatles.”

Roger scoffs, pulling out a cigarette, “Yeah right. Been there, done that.”

As Roger lights up a smoke, you look at the menu set out in front of you, deciding on something that won’t aggravate your fragile stomach. Then you proceed to give Roger puppy dog eyes until you persuade him to be the one to go up and order it.

When he’s gone, you take a moment to think over what you and Roger must really look like to some people. Roger, all bleach blonde hair, brightly coloured clothing and a smirk that could make even a nun go mad. And you, puffy eyed, sunglasses indoors, in an oversized button-up shirt that you’d definitely stolen from one of the boys at some point. You both probably were the most exciting things that some of these people had seen in awhile. Something new to gossip about.

A glass of water is set in front of you by the one and only roger, while he sips tenderly at a cup of sweet coffee, “Drink.” he commands.

“But I ordered coffee,” you pout like a child, “You’re kicking me when I’m down here, Rog.”

He rolls his eyes, “Coffee doesn’t help hangovers, love. Drink up.”

You frown but nonetheless begin sipping in silence, tapping your nails against the table as Roger stares at you, “What?”

“Just wondering if you’re going to tell me what got you so upset earlier?”

You let out a sigh, long and weary, fiddling with an opened sugar packet, “Would you believe me if I said that it was just hormones?”

“Not in the slightest.”

You let out a short laugh through your nose, “I just let myself get heartbroken again, that’s all.”

Roger pretends to choke on his coffee, spluttering dramatically and ignoring all the stares that he attracted, “Someone managed to break Y/N’s cold, dead, heart?”

“If you were quiet for a moment you’d notice I’m not laughing.” You roll your eyes at him.

Noticing your demeanour, he quiets down and leans in close to you, “I’m sorry, it’s just that you never let yourself get to the point of being able to be heartbroken,” he puts out his cigarette in the ashtray, “you know, you told me about a year ago that love doesn’t exist, and dating is just a trial period until you decide that maybe you can put up with that person for the rest of your life.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You did, word for word.”

You stay silent, but your top lip twitches into a smile- it does sound like something you’d say.

“Anyway,” Roger continues, “who broke your heart? I’ll rough 'em up a bit.”

“Surely you couldn’t rough up a member of your own band.” You speak under your breath, arms crossed, but Roger hears you.

“I knew it!” He shouts, and you kick him underneath the table, “sorry,” he blushes, “I just knew it. I had a feeling you were in love with Brian.”

Your eyes widen, “I’m not in love with him!”

Roger smirks, “So it is Brian, then?”

Your jaw drops at his trick, “You bloody asshole.”

He sits back in his chair with a smug grin on his face, coffee cup in hand, “So, tell me about it.”

You scoff, “You’re such a dick sometimes, you know that?”

“You love me all the same.”

You roll your eyes for the thousandth time, as you always seem to do around Roger. You stare at him, arms crossed in silent defiance and attempt to communicate with your eyes ‘I’m not going to tell you because you were a dick.’

He sighs, uncrossing his arms to place his elbows on the table, “Come on, I’m sorry! Please tell me what happened?”

A server comes over with your breakfast, allowing you to torture Roger for a few moments more as you chew a bite slowly. After you swallow, you finally sigh, “Fine. Ask me what you want to know.”

Roger’s eyes light up, “How long have you loved-” he stops when you gives him the eye, “liked, him?”

“Almost five years.”

“Bloody hell, Y/N.”

“I know! I know. It’s not good. Trust me I’ve tried to get over it.”

“And you’ve never told him how you feel?”

You scoff, “Of course not, that’s suicide.”

“Why?”

You put down your fork, finishing your mouthful of food, “You act like you haven’t seen the way Brian is,”

Roger stays silent, waiting for you to continue, “He’s so…elusive. His shyness and sensitivity make him a real fucking magnet if you haven’t noticed. And he has this thing where he needs to constantly be pining after someone, and it’s just never been me.”

You take a deep breath as your eyes focus on the rim of your glass, “He’s just not interested in me as more than his best friend, and I think that’s okay.”

“Why do you think that’s okay?” Roger asks softly.

“Because if I don’t accept that, then I won’t have Brian in my life at all. And that’s worse than the heartache.”

Roger is silent, looking at you with sad eyes, but they don’t hold an ounce of pity. That’s something you love about him, he never pities you for feeling any sort of way, he’s just there to listen.

“Well fuck, I can see why you got plastered last night.”

You laugh, thankful for him shifting the mood to something more lighthearted.

After lunch, Roger drops you off back at your flat, but not without a comforting pat on the top of your head and a promise to go for a drink soon.

You smile to yourself as you fish your key out from your bag, twisting the lock and stepping inside.

“Y/N.”

You squeal, whipping around to see a lean figure standing up from your sofa, “Bloody fuck- Brian, what are you doing here?”

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, partly from being scared half to death, partly because Brian looks so good in a hoodie. He doesn’t often wear cosy clothes anymore since Queen gained more fame. Seeing him looking all soft in a navy blue hoodie makes your heart flutter. It reminds you of the times when you had first met. The both of you snuggled up underneath layers of blankets in his dingy flat when the heating broke (which was often), drinking copious amounts of tea and emptying his kitchen of all his food.

“You gave me a key.” He scratches the back of his neck. Yeah, he knows he’s guilty.

“I would have appreciated it if you’d rung me first.”

Annoyance settles in as you remember last night, when he ditched you at the pub and left you to get a taxi home. If anything, he owes you the fare.

“I did, you didn’t pick up and I got worried.”

“I was out.”

“I can see that now.”

The room falls silent, Brian rocking back and forth on his heels. You cross your arms, waiting for him to speak. To explain himself.

“Listen, I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have left you like that last night. I was drunk-”

“So was I.”

“I’m-” he stops, sighing, “I’m really, really sorry. I’m a total prick…” he fades off as if he’s lost in thought, bottom lip pulled between his teeth and eyes worried. He looks genuinely troubled, as if he is really upset that he ended up ditching you.

Against your better judgment, you sigh and uncross your arms, voice softening up, “Look, just don’t do it again, okay? It puts me in a really bad spot.”

His eyes brighten at your acceptance, rushing over to give you a hug. You stand stiff as a board when his arms wrap around you, head nestled against your neck. Your pulse races, but you know better than to view this in any other way than just a friendly hug. You wrap your arms around him anyway, closing your eyes and just for a moment, pretending it is otherwise.

“I want to make it up to you,” his voice is muffled against your shoulder, but he doesn’t dare let go, “I packed us a picnic, let’s go to the park. You can feed the ducks.”

You pause, eyes opening and closing as you take breaths. You battle against yourself. Could you manage doing such an activity with Brian? One that feels like a date? Of course you can. Don’t be silly. He’s your best friend, how could you be casting his feelings to the side because of your own?

“Can I feed the pigeons too?”

He laughs, gripping your frame tighter, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Then you’re back in his car, a newer one, different from the cheap beat up one he had when you had first met. But still, it’s familiar, the scent of him mixed with leather. A basket and a blanket sits in his backseat, bringing a small smile to your face. This is the side of Brian you cherish the most. The side of him that cares so deeply for his friends. You’re not even sure if you could call it a ‘side’ of him. It’s just the way he is. He doesn’t ever intend to hurt or upset you. Suddenly, you feel guilty for being upset with him. He doesn’t owe you anything, he has every right to go home with other women.

“So, where did you go earlier?” Brian asks, one hand on the wheel as he glances over at you and then back at the road.

“I went out for lunch with Roger,” you smile at his side profile, the way his hair moves against the breeze through his open window, the way his nose hooks ever so slightly, “he nursed my hangover.”

Brian’s lips seem to flick into a frown, but shift back into a smile before you could really register it, “Seems as though I’ve been replaced.”

You roll your eyes, “No one nurses my hangovers as well as you do, Bri, don’t worry.”

You giggle fondly at the memories of the both of you nursing each other through your hangovers, Brian always better at dealing with them than you were. He’d be up bright and early, pop two ibuprofen, down a cup of coffee and be well on his way to recovery. Whereas you’d sleep until noon and be unbelievably moody until eventually someone forced you to do something with your day.

Brain somehow always knew how to pull you out of those moods, though, whether it be bringing you a plate of pancakes and cracking stupid jokes until eventually you had no choice but to laugh, or by sitting with you in silence and pushing a glass of water and painkillers in your direction. He just always seemed to know exactly what you needed in the moment.

“I’d hope not,” he tuts, “otherwise I’d have to find another hobby, and I quite like taking care of you.”

Your breath catches, skin burning, but you play it off with a scoff, “You make me sound like a child.”

He laughs, a bellowing laugh that you always love to hear, “A child? Certainly not. Children swear a hell of a lot less.”

“Fuck off!” you swat his shoulder lightly but can’t help your grin. It feels good to fall back into the rhythm of normalcy with Brian.

The sun is high when you reach the park, the sky a bright blue except for a few sparse clouds. The two of you walk silently to the pond, laying out the blanket on a soft patch of grass.

“I know you already ate,” Brian says as he sits down on the blanket, “but I bought a packet of custard creams because I know you like them.”

The small gesture makes you embarrassingly happy, grinning at him as he passes you the packet, “You can never be too full for biscuits, you know that.”

“Very true,” he smiles at you almost in adoration, you think, “I also got a bag of bird seed because people still feed the ducks bloody bread.”

You hum as you bite into a custard cream, staring into space as you get lost in thought. Spring weather in London is one of your favourites, when the sun shines just enough to warm your skin, but you still have to cosy up a bit. And today, it’s the perfect temperature for a picnic.

“Hey, so I was thinking,” Brian begins, opening up a sandwich for himself and taking a bite, “Since the band doesn’t have to start recording again for a bit, we should all go on a road trip somewhere.”

You look over at him, eyebrows raised, “Where were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “Wales maybe? I just thought a change of scenery might help us all write new songs.”

Nodding your head slowly, your lips twitch up into a smile, “I’d love that. Have you mentioned it to the boys yet?”

“Briefly, and they seemed to like the idea, but no plans have been made.”

You hum, “Well, let’s set the date and they’ll just have to clear their schedules.”

Brian laughs, “Alright, next thursday. We can stay until Monday.”

“Perfect.”

The two of you chat for a while longer, before packing up the basket and walking alongside the pond, throwing bird seed for the ducks and laughing as they all fight for the same pieces.

It feels so idyllic, walking through the park with Brian. It seems to be all couples here today, holding hands or staring at each other with looks of adoration on their faces. It almost makes you feel queasy. Perhaps it’s just eating those custard creams right after eating lunch with Roger. Either way, your stomach twists and leaps with too many indescribable feelings. You wish it would stop.

Brian tips the last bits of bird food out of it’s bag, before scrunching it up and putting it in his pocket. You both watch as the birds eat the remaining seed, before looking up at you for more. Once they realise there’s nothing else for them, they drift gracefully away, to the opposite side of the pond where someone else may feed them some more.

Then you continue your stroll, enjoying the feeling of the sun on your faces and the crisp air in your lungs.

But then Brian looks down at his watch, swearing underneath his breath and turning to face you, “Y/N, I’m so sorry but I’m going to have to cut this short.”

Your eyebrows furrow into a frown, “Is everything alright?”

You both begin to walk in the direction of his car, “Everything’s fine, I just forgot I have to meet someone in an hour.”

Your stomach drops. Brian never usually says ‘someone’. His friends are your friends and you’d always refer to them by name. ‘Someone’ means someone you’ve never met, and almost always it means a girl.

“Oh, okay,” you try to hide the disappointment in your voice, “that’s totally fine!” you force a wide smile.

He grins back at you as you both get into his car, “I’ll make it up to you, love.”

You return his smile, but deep down you know. He said that earlier, too.

Soon you’re back at your flat, waving goodbye to Brian from your doorstep and letting your smile drop into a frown as he drives away.

The clock reads 4 o’clock when you reach your bedroom, sighing deeply as you get changed into comfier clothes and slump down on your sofa with a cup of tea.

God, it’s so tiring.

The sun is still high outside, your favourite aspect of spring and summertime, the longer days, but tonight you almost wish it was late so that you could fall asleep and not have to think about Brian.

But alas, he swirls around your brain as you stir your tea, looking down into the cup as it whirlpools. You wonder if Brian could be seeing the girl he went home with last night, or someone else. You don’t want to wonder, you’re not even sure if you actually want to know who it is. It would push you into the deep darkness of insecurity, and you’d compare every aspect of yourself to whomever it is.

So instead, you flick the telly on and melt mindlessly into the arms of whatever is on, not even really focussing on it.

Monday morning, you’re at work again, typing up documents all day as you’d usually be doing. The monotony could kill you, and your fingers hurt from the stiff keys of the typewriter. It’s times like these where you feel envious of your best friends’ profession- for the boys of Queen, monotony is never an issue. They can complain about recording studios all they want, but they would never dare to wish for your job, and they know that.

You asked your boss early if you could get Thursday to Monday off, and by some sheer miracle he had agreed, but not without massaging your shoulders in a way that made your skin crawl. It was one of the biggest downsides about working in an office amongst mostly men. While they spent their days barely working, and instead drinking the day away together while playing mini golf in their offices, you worked until your fingers went numb and the back of your neck felt like it was being jabbed with fifty needles. Yet they still believed they were entitled to touching you whenever they liked.

Either way, you had managed to get a few days off to go on a road trip with all of your best friends, and that’s what keeps you going throughout the week. You daydream about exploring castle ruins and walking along the beach with Brian, allowing yourself to dip your toes into the idea of a relationship. While you were confined within four blank office walls, the thought of Brian kept you sane.

He phoned you two days after your picnic, confirming that the boys had all agreed to a road trip and booked a hotel for Thursday afternoon. Things were all going smoothly, even as you packed your bag on Wednesday evening in preparation to set off early the next morning. You float happily around your flat, humming along to your records and planning out outfits for the trip. When you fall into bed that night, you can barely wait for dawn to break.

But as they always say, be careful what you wish for. Because when you step out onto your front steps on Thursday morning, bags in hand and a grin like the sun, you notice not one, but two cars. Brian’s and John’s. Your smile falters, you thought you were all squeezing into Brian’s car?

“Y/N!” Freddie exclaims when he sees you, rushing to help with your bags and put them in the boot of Brian’s car, “God, I’ve missed you, darling!”

You pull him into a tight embrace, “I’ve missed you too. You don’t have time for me anymore with all your wild parties.”

He scoffs, “If only you’d attend them, lovie, then we’d see each other more!”

You roll your eyes playfully and look around at the two cars. The driver’s seat of Brian’s car opens, a small but almost seemingly nervous smile on his face.

“Hey, Y/N,” he scratches the back of his neck, “how are you?”

You narrow your eyes, and you feel Freddie’s body language stiffen beside you as if he knows something you don’t.

“I’m alright?” You reply as a question, curious to why everyone seems so nervous.

“Good, good,” he nods, inhaling before saying, “You wouldn’t mind sitting in the back seat, would you? Natasha already took the passenger side.”

Your lips part slightly, realisation setting in. He brought a girl.

You turn to Freddie in silent shock, asking with your eyes what the hell is happening? He leans over to whisper quietly, “I offered to take your place and you sit with Rog and John, but Brian was adamant.”

You gulp, turning back to where Brian stands, “Sure, that’s fine.”

He grins, sitting back in the driver’s seat. You turn to Freddie, eyes like a deer in headlights. A five hour drive. With Brian and his possibly girlfriend. He pats your shoulder, giving you another hug before getting into John’s car.

You have no choice but to slip into the backseat, sighing into the leather. The radio is already on, all the windows down to let in the cool early morning air. You glance to the front of the car where a woman sits in the passenger side. You can see her face in the wing mirror, insecurity eating away at you already as you examine her. She’s gorgeous, with thick auburn curls that frame a sharply defined face. You can even see that her eyes are a taunting shade of emerald green.

Clearing your throat. You lean forward and hold your hand out, forcing a smile on your face, “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

She turns to glance at you, but not before giving you a once over, sharp lips not so much as twitching into a smile. She takes your hand into a weak handshake, shaking once before letting go and letting her hand rest back into her lap.

“Natasha.” She says bluntly. You glance over to Brian as he drives, waiting for him to react in some sort of way at the way you’ve been greeted, but instead you’re met with his usual kind smile and eyes that gleam with blissful ignorance.

You sniff awkwardly, leaning back into your seat and getting comfortable against the window. You can see Natasha staring at you in the wing mirror, but you try your best to ignore it. It practically sears your skin, making you squirm in your seat. You hated feeling intimidated by people, absolutely despised it, but Natasha was everything you weren’t. She had Brian. And the passenger seat.

The radio fades into one of your favourite songs, one of Brian’s too, The Air That I Breathe by The Hollies. You’d often drive with the windows down, belting out the lyrics and laughing at who could sing the loudest. The memory brings a smile to your face.

“I love this song, can you turn it up-”

“God, I hate this song,” Natasha interrupts, “I didn’t even like it when it came out three years ago.”

Brian looks torn, eyes flickering to you in the rearview mirror. You challenge his gaze, narrowing your eyes ever so slightly to gauge his next move. Your stomach sinks as he drops your gaze in guilt, flicking to the next station.

The smug look on Natasha’s face just adds salt to your wound, her eyes like a snake’s, sly and dangerous. In that moment you decide that your best friend must be an absolute idiot. You also decide that you really, really don’t like Natasha.

Five hours does not go by in a flash, much to your dismay, and you’ve had to listen to Brian gush over Natasha for the majority of the ride. Even when you all stopped halfway to get snacks, Brian came to your side when Natasha went to the bathroom, nudging your shoulder with a dopey smile on his face.

“Isn’t she something?” He asks as you pull a few bags of crisps off of a shelf. You try your best to bite your tongue. After all, as long as Brian is happy, you’re happy.

“She’s definitely something.” You reciprocate his smile, albeit forced.

“I think you and her will be great friends.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes. Even if you wanted that, Natasha made it very clear that she did not want anything of the sort. How could Brian be so unaware of the dynamic that took place between you and her? Are men really that thick? You can barely believe it. For someone as intelligent as Brian, he’s being incredibly dense.

But regardless, you nod, “Totally.”

Natasha steps out of the bathroom and makes her way over to where the two of you stand, completely ignoring your presence, “Let’s go to the car.”

She grabs Brian’s arm, and before you can so much as complain, the food Brian had grabbed is dropped in your arms, leaving you alone to pay. Your eyes follow them as they leave, hand in hand as they laugh. They look good together, you can admit that. Two perfect people.

You sigh, turning to glance around the small petrol station shop, shaking your head to yourself and going to pay for yours and Brian’s snacks.

And then the remaining two hours or so blur by as you lean yourself against the window, blocking out the sound of Brian and Natasha’s conversations and simply watching the world pass you by. You try to think of the green grass, the blue morning sky, the yellow sunflower fields that you pass.

Brian’s hand rests on her thigh and he looks at her with something like a sparkle in his eyes. Suddenly you wish you stayed home. Maybe if you’d caught a cold or your boss didn’t give you time off this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like your heart is being torn out of your chest. Maybe then you could have ignored the fact that Brian has got a new woman in his life.

Once you pull into the hotel car park behind the rest of Queen, you nearly jump out of the car, immediately taking your bags out of Brian’s car, “What’s the room situation?” you ask Roger when he steps out of John’s car.

“Don’t get too excited,” Roger winks playfully, “Nah, we have our own rooms, apart from them.” he nods towards Brian.

You lean in to give him a pathetic hug, leaning heavily on his shoulder as you quietly groan, “I don’t even have the energy to tell you to fuck off right now.”

He laughs, gripping your shoulders tightly, “You look like you need a drink. Or a nap.”

“Or both.” you retort.

Brian and Natasha walk up to where you stand, Natasha plastering a fake smile on her face as she greets Roger, “Roger, I didn’t realise that Y/N was your latest fling, how sweet.”

Roger tenses, as do you. Now she’s insulted both of you in one. But just as you’re about to speak your mind, Roger tightly wraps his arms around your shoulder, “Actually, Y/N’s my girl.”

You glance up at him in shock, lips parted and eyes wide. You turn back to Natasha, noticing that Brian is staring at you with a look of shock on his face, maybe betrayal? You’re not sure, but he looks angry. His fist clenches at his side absentmindedly.

And that makes you angry. Even if you were actually dating Roger, what does that have to do with him? So you decide to put a wide smile on your face, lifting your arms to hold Roger’s around your shoulders. You don’t speak, but your actions say it all. You giggle, melting into his embrace. It feels strange, but Roger and you are close enough to know that this is fine.

Freddie and John walk over, looks of confusion on their faces, but decide to stay out of it when they see the looks on Natasha and Brian’s faces.

“You’re seeing each other?” Brian asks incredulously, ignoring Natasha’s presence beside him.

“That’s right,” Roger replies before you can, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes,” Natasha laughs, “It is.”

Roger’s grip tightens around you. You recognise this side of him, the fierce protectiveness he feels over his friends. Roger has been known to get into fights if someone speaks badly about his friends. He simply won’t tolerate it.

His actions are strictly platonic, but he’s not going to let someone speak badly of you. Especially not Natasha, now that he knows about the way you feel about Brian.

“And why is that?” He grits his teeth, and you squeeze his arm gently to communicate that it’s okay. You don’t need his protection, you can manage.

“Well,” Natasha begins, and you glance at Brian’s expression. He stares directly at you, gaze unfaltering. He isn’t even hearing what is being said, “You usually tend to go for much more...visually appealing women.”

Ouch.

You’re not gonna lie, that hit you right in the ego. It’s not as if you had much confidence before anyway.

That’s when Brian breaks his stare to look at Natasha, a dumbfounded look on his face, “What-”

But Roger interrupts, anger prevalent in his tone, “I don’t think you’re one to gauge who’s visually appealing and who isn’t, Natalie.”

You hold back a giggle, albeit a hurt one, trying to hide your pain behind an unbothered smile. But you fear that your body betrays you as you tilt your head down, hands dropping from Roger’s arm to cross over your stomach.

Natasha opens her mouth to speak, but Freddie intercepts, “Alright! Okay, we should go find what rooms we are in and freshen up. I need a beauty nap.”

You’re thankful for Fred, giving him a discreet nod to which he responds with a wink. You take one last look at your supposed best friend, Brian, not a trace of sympathy for him on your face. How could he not defend his best friend of years from his girlfriend he’s probably only known for a couple weeks at most?

Baffled and dejected, your feet move mindlessly along with Roger as he steers the both of you into the hotel, muttering underneath his breath, “Dick.”

“Who?” you whisper.

“Brian.”

You say nothing. You know it’s true, but it hurts a hell of a lot when your own best friend doesn’t stick up for you.

Roger follows you into your hotel room when you reach it, watching as you flop into the soft white sheets with a long, weary sigh.

Roger sits at the end of your bed, “Natasha’s a right pain in the arse.”

You sit up, hair mussed and eyes tired, “I meant to ask, have you met her before?”

He nods with a wince, “Unfortunately. She’s like that all the time. It’s baffling that Brian hasn’t noticed it yet. The lad’s usually quite level-headed.”

You nod with a hum, staring out of the window behind him. You get most in thought momentarily, thinking about the way Brian was so truly oblivious to the way Natasha acted. He’s almost gotten into bust ups with men at bars who have disrespected you, but it seems to be okay when Natasha does it. Maybe love really is blind. The idea of them in love makes your guts churn.

“Anyway,” Roger starts, standing up, “You should take a nap. I’ll come to wake you up in a couple hours for dinner, alright?”

You smile, “Thanks, Rog. For everything.”

He shoots you a cheeky wink, “Anytime, love.”

So you gladly lay down in the cool white sheets once Roger is out the door, staring up at the ceiling until eventually you let your eyelids flutter closed.

Two hours later, you’re up, bathed, and dressed, fiddling with the hem of your midnight blue dress in the mirror.

Insecurity eats away at you each time your eyes scrutinise yet another perceived flaw. As much as you hate to admit it, Natasha’s words echo around in your mind. She’s right, you're not visually appealing. How could you be, when Brian won’t even look twice at you as more than a friend.

A knock sounds at your door, Roger’s voice coming soon after, “Are you ready, love?”

You snap out of your trance, pushing all the self-hatred aside to open the door. Plastering a wide smile on your face, you take his arm in yours.

He raises a brow.

“I’m not the one who told everyone we were dating,” you lightly pat his arm, “so hold tight, loverboy.”

You meet the group outside by the cars once again, John leaning up against the side of his car and Freddie perched gracefully on the bonnet. Brian and Natasha however, are nowhere to be seen. You frown and ask Freddie where they are.

“Not a clue, my dear. If they aren’t down in five minutes I’m leaving without them.”

As if on queue, the couple in question walk out of the revolving doors. Brian’s face is flushed, Natasha’s smug. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why they’re late.

You catch eyes with Brian and watch, hurt, as he looks away bashfully. Your chest pangs, just a bit, as you glance down at your dress for distraction.

Roger squeezes your arm comfortingly, “Do you want to ride with us?”

You shake your head, “Would it be bad if I said I wanted to keep an eye on them?”

He smiles, “Cheeky.”

You force a tight smile.

In all honesty, you aren’t quite sure if you’ll be fine, but when you take another look at Natasha’s smirk, you let your anger be the driving force that pushes you into the back seat of Brian’s car.

Luckily, they seem to behave themselves while you’re in the car. Well, Brian does. Natasha often tries to place her hand on his thigh, but he always pushes it off. You notice that something has changed since the drive earlier, a shift in Brian’s mood. He’s more bashful than ever, staying practically silent with his cheeks seemingly tinged pink permanently.

Eventually, Natasha gives up with a huff, crossing her arms and looking out the window as the radio hums a tune none of you are paying attention to. Brian is looking straight at the road, and you’re watching him as he clenches and unclenches his jaw. The sun is just beginning to set beside him, silhouetting his face like an eclipse. He’s so beautiful, even when you’re annoyed with him, and even when he looks annoyed himself.

He pulls into the car park, killing the engine and turning around to face you in his seat. You furrow your eyebrows as he stares, “What-”

“Nat, could you give us a minute?”

“But-”

“I’ll meet you in the restaurant.”

She stares at him baffled, looking at you and back to him, before rolling her eyes and getting out of the car. She slams the door and beelines to the entrance, leaving the rest of the boys no choice but to follow her. Roger shoots you a concerned look through the window, to which you return a reassuring smile. It does nothing to reassure yourself, though, as Brian’s fiery gaze is pointed directly at you.

The car remains silent as both of you challenge each other to see who will speak first. You stand your ground and hold his glare, crossing your arms in defiance. He speaks up,

“Why didn’t you tell me that you and Rog were together?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, so that’s what this is about?

“Why do you care?”

He scoffs, turning away from you to look out of the window, “I don’t know, maybe because you’re my best friend and he’s my bandmate?”

“Why does that matter?” You challenge.

He just shakes his head with a spiteful chuckle, dodging the question, “Roger doesn’t date.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s just going to leave you for another woman, or worse, he’ll just do it behind your back.”

“And I suppose you’re any better?”

Your words are harsh, and you regret them the minute they came out. Especially when he turns to look at you with a flash of hurt in his eyes. Brian’s had his own share of infidelity, but he’s always felt guilty over it, as if it haunts him. You suddenly feel sick. He confided in you and you’ve just thrown it back at him.

Without another word, he opens his door and steps out, slamming the door behind him. You watch as his figure retreats into the restaurant, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. Shit.

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes momentarily. You stand on trembling legs and make your own way into the venue, fingernails digging into your palms.

Everyone is already sitting at the table when you join them, so you take your place in between Roger and John. Both of them look equally concerned, Roger’s eyes flickering to Brian across the table. You dare to glance up to where he’s glaring, fiddling with the tablecloth. His upper lip twitches like it always does when he’s angry, a tick that only you’ve ever noticed about him. His warm hazel eyes seem cold, but you can almost see the flames behind them. He’s pissed. More than pissed.

Roger unwittingly adds fire to the flame when he leans down to whisper in your ear, “Everything alright, love?”

You look at Brian once more, his napkin now clenched in his fist, you turn to Roger to whisper, “I think he’s mad.”

Roger chuckles, “You think? The bloke looks like he wants to castrate me.”

“I think he probably does.” You sigh.

Thankfully, always the life-saver, Freddie begins reenacting a run in he had with a fan in a public toilet the other day, and everyone begins loosening up. Well, except for Brian. He’s pretty much silent throughout dinner. Even when Natasha tries to pat his arm or whisper something in his ear, he keeps the same disgruntled look upon his face. You find yourself becoming angrier with every passing moment.

Who does Brian think he is? How can he let his girlfriend walk all over you, then he insults you, and then he somehow has the right to be angry with you?

It’s bullshit, and you shoot daggers at him over your dessert. You don’t even want it. It’s your favourite and everything.

You turn to John, ever the organised one, “Hey, do you know what we’re doing tomorrow?”

He tilts his chin up and chews on one side of his mouth as he thinks, “I think we planned to visit Conwy Castle.”

You nod, humming, “Cool.”

It’s only the first night, and the trip still has five more days, but you find yourself anxious to return home. Especially in the dim lights of a small Italian restaurant as Brian stares at you with that unforgiving gaze, you wish to be anywhere but.

Brian and Natasha left before everyone else, skipping their coffee and choosing to head back to the hotel. They didn’t so much as question how you’d be getting back. Instead, they left you with the remaining three Queen boys, all of their curious eyes on you.

They want answers, you can see it on their faces. It’s the first moment all of you have had together without Brian and Natasha there and they want to know what the bloody hell is going on.

You shake your head at their silence, taking one final bite of your dessert, “Don’t ask me anything, because I don’t have a fucking clue.”

You huff as you flop back onto the bed. It’s far past sunset, and your hotel room is dim except for the orange glow of the street lights outside your window. Roger, John and Freddie decided to go find some sort of bar to finish the evening, but you asked them to drop you off at the hotel so that you could sleep. Except you couldn’t, your mind wired with so many thoughts of Brian that you couldn’t so much as close your eyes. You decided that staring up at the ceiling wasn’t helping, instead it was making the thoughts worse, so you got out of bed and walked to the balcony and stared out over the sea, letting the cold air of the night nip at your bare skin.

Just as you close your eyes, there’s a knock at the door, echoing through the sound of the waves in the distance. The tiny clock at the side of your bed reads just past midnight as you pad through the dark to get to the door.

You open it a crack, “Who is it?” you ask gently.

“Brian.”

Your pulse jumps slightly as you open the door the rest of the way and take in his appearance. His eyes are tired and sunken, his hair mussed as if he’d been tugging on it. You wonder if it was him who tugged on it, or someone else, but based on the way his head is bowed, you don’t think anything of the sort happened.

“Hi,” you gulp, treading lightly, ashamed of the words you threw at him earlier this evening, yet anger still fizzles within you softly.

“Hi,” he breathes, hand rubbing the back of his neck, “did I wake you?”

“No,” you shake your head, “couldn’t sleep.”

“Neither.”

“Is Natasha awake?”

He pauses, looking at the floor and then back at you, “She’s asleep.”

You nod, quiet after his response. What now?

“Do you...want to come in?”

You step aside after he nods, quietly walking through the doorway and into the dimness of your room, and then out onto the balcony. You follow, mind racing a million miles a minute, watching his back as he leans against the railing.

You join him, staring out at the starry reflection of the moon against the sea, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

He turns to look at you, though you don’t return his glance. Instead you bask in his gaze upon your face as the wind flutters through your hair and the moon glitters against your skin.

“It is,” he whispers, his own hair rustled by the wind as he continues to stare at you.

Neither of you speak for a while, just watching the water as it shimmers like diamonds, though you’re both aware of the words unsaid and the words that were. But for a few moments the two of you decided to ignore the rift between you, and instead let the soft silver gleam of the moon heal your aching hearts.

But things must not go unsaid for too long or they will fester, and you’re the first to speak, “Why’d you come see me, Bri?”

He sighs, looking down at his hands, “I came to say sorry. I shouldn’t have said that stuff about Rog, he’s a good guy.”

You stare at him for awhile, “He is a good guy,”

Brian’s eyebrows seem to fall, which causes your own to furrow. You continue, “but did you mean what you said?”

He looks into your eyes and you know instantly that he did. The only reason he’s come to apologise is because he upset you.

“I did.”

Though it angers you, you admire his honesty. You can’t be so frank with him, you’d end up spilling your feelings.

“Is it so unbelievable that someone like Roger would like someone like me?”

It feels odd talking about Rog as if he’s actually your boyfriend, but you’re hurt. Natasha’s earlier words cut like a knife, and hearing Brian think the same would cut like no other.

“That’s not what I meant at all. You’re just…” he trails off and looks back at the sea, shaking his head.

“I’m what?”

“You’re...perfect. You’re too good for someone who will hurt you”

The sound of the wind fills your silence, a sense of confusion and joy fluttering in your stomach. You wish you could tell him that you appreciate his concern, but he’s been the one hurting you all this time. However it’s not his fault, and you remain quiet. He called you perfect.

You search his face for any sign of anything, any twitch of his brow that might give anything away, but he’s stoic as always.

“But you can’t be the one to make that decision for me.” you breathe, choosing to ignore what he said. Perhaps you’re scared of him taking it back, or claiming it was nothing. You want to hold onto the very feelings you feel now, after Brian has called you perfect underneath the moonlight.

“I know.” he sighs, looking down at his hands. You’ve always loved his hands, his long slender fingers that are often adorned with a couple silver rings, usually on his pinky finger. You’d often imagined the way they might feel against your bare skin, but each time you dared to delve into that idea, you quickly shut it down.

The fact that you’ve been lying to Brian about Roger makes you feel wretched, eating away at your insides as you chew on your bottom lip. It feels as though you’re seeing a bit more of Brian’s private thoughts, and he’s only shared them with you because he thinks you’re dating Roger.

The confession is right there on the tip of your tongue, a loud exclamation of truth ready to erupt from inside of you, “Brian-”

“-Y/N” he begins at the same time, and immediately all courage is lost. The boiling truth returns to a simmer, and your racing heart begins to still.

You both chuckle, a sense of normalcy returning for the first time tonight as he scratches the back of his neck, “You first.”

Shaking your head, you give him a small smile, “Not important, you go.”

He nods, taking a breath as if to build his courage back up, turning his body to face you entirely. You do the same, concerned at the sudden seriousness that’s returned to his face. You watch in silence as he takes yet another deep breath, the dread inside of you intensifying.

“I…” he begins, and you want to grab him by the shoulder and shake, tell him to spit it out already because you feel nauseated.

“It’s terrible of me to say this, and I know I have no right whatsoever to do so, but...I don’t want you to date Roger.”

You’re taken aback by his blatant request, baffled at why he is so against the idea of you and Roger being together, “Why not?”

He looks just as irritated as you, all civility that you’d built up just moments before knocked down like a house of cards. It’s as if the idea of you not listening to his request infuriates him, and in return that makes you equally angry.

“I told you before.”

“But we agreed that this isn’t your decision.”

At this point, you aren’t sure why you’re continuing to act as if Roger is your boyfriend. Perhaps you’ve let it go too far and to confess now would damage your dignity. Or maybe you want to see how far Brian is willing to go with his request. Surely he won’t force the two of you apart.

“It’s not my decision, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?!” you raise your voice. This conversation is going in the complete wrong direction, but you can’t seem to stop it, or stop yourself. The two of you are both passionate people always speaking for what they believe in, and in this case you are on opposing sides. Like fire and ice, or darkness and light, the two of you battle against each other.

“Yes! Uncomfortable!”

“Go on then, explain to me why it makes you so uncomfortable.”

“He’s my bandmate-”

“And why does that matter?”

“You’ll be a distraction!”

“I’ve known you all for years, and suddenly now that I’m dating one of you, I’m a distraction? Nice, Brian.”

He goes to speak, but you interrupt, “And what about Natasha, huh? Is she not a distraction? Or is it just me then?”

“She doesn’t come to the studio with us like you do.”

“You were the one who told me that you love when I come to the studio.”

He looks flustered, “I do, but-”

“You’re not making any sense,” you say, exasperated, “what is the big deal about me dating Roger?”

He doesn’t answer, instead staring at you with a burning intensity behind his caramel irises. A siren blares in the distance and a cloud sheathes the moon in a grey cast. It’s as if his answer is in his eyes, but you just can’t catch it. You’re both speaking two different languages.

“I should go,” he says finally.

Muddled thoughts race through your head. You want to say so many things but nothing comes out, your mind a jumbled mess of intertwined wires. Goddamnit, Y/N, say something.

He turns to walk through the hotel room, and you have no choice but to watch his back as he retreats. But then he stops in his tracks, turning to look at you once more. He has hurt written across his face, you can see it even in the darkness.

“Where is Roger, by the way?”

He tilts his head to the side, challenging you to answer him. You stare in silence, no answer on your tongue.

He nods, his own point proven to himself as he goes to turn back around, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

#omg omg omg #here it is #it's taken too long #part 1 #!!!!#brianmayxreader #Brian May #fem!reader #angst #slowburn #fic #queen #i have no excuses #Give It All For You

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eldritchcryptids · 4 years

Text

2006 - pt.5

Saying Brian was worried about Tim was an understatement.

He wished that after the two weeks of taking care of Tim and making sure he was taking his medicine and such, that his friend would be doing much better. But he wasn’t. Brian could tell when Tim was lying to him, and it was extremely clear that Tim was pretending to be okay. And ever since Brian’s blackout, Tim was getting more distant than he already was.

Brian was sure that his blackout was likely just due to him being disassociated because of stress from recent events. Stress from balancing his school work, working on Alex’s film and taking care of Tim. Despite telling Tim what his theory was, Tim was extremely worried about it. It was extremely clear to Brian that Tim was trying to push him away. He wouldn’t answer any text messages, calls and would refuse to answer the door if Brian would go over. Brian had also heard from Alex that Tim would call him to ask if Brian was going to be on set, and if Alex said yes, Tim would say that he wouldn’t be able to make it.

This had been going on for a while and Brian ended up voicing his concerns to Jay and Alex when they had been hanging out at his place. “It’s just..so weird, right? Tim has never acted like this, not around me at least…” Brian stated, he wanted to know that his worries were understandable.

Alex shrugged, “It’s definitely strange, but Tim has always been kinda...distant, you know?”

Jay nodded, “Al’s got a point.”

“I don’t know...I think something’s up…” The dirty blond male sighed, leaning back in his seat. Alex shrugged, pushing up his glasses.

“What was the reason he gave for his first breakdown that he had? Maybe that could tell us something?” Alex questioned, tilting his head slightly.

Brian sighed.

“He said he was having these ongoing and recurring nightmares...But that, at least to me, doesn’t make sense? You wouldn’t just push people away because you’re having bad nightmares.”

“I will admit..that is a weird excuse, but everyone reacts differently, you know?” Jay spoke up, adjusting in his seat, “Uh, but Tim does also have like...depression, or something right? I remember him mentioning something like that..” Brian gave a small nod and Jay hummed, “So maybe those nightmares just..made him really depressed, or something..”

“That could be a reason..” Alex agreed, “Anyway I suggest checking up on him.”

Brian huffed and slumped down into his seat, “How the hell am I supposed to do that? He’s not answering my calls or anythin’..”

“Break into his house.” Alex and Jay said in unison. The two males quickly glanced at eachother.

“Stop copying me.” Alex ordered, flicking Jay’s forehead and knocking off his hat.

“Ow- what the hell, Al.” The shorter male huffed, rubbing his forehead. Brian chuckled before rolling his eyes at his two friends.

“I’d prefer if I had an option that doesn’t revolve around breaking the law.”

“Breaking into his house is the only option I can think of.” Jay shrugged, putting his hat back on and adjusting it so it fit comfortably.

“Maybe annoy him to the point until he has to open the door.” The glasses wearing male suggested and Brian sighed.

“I’ve done that. He didn’t crack.”

“Damn...Breaking in is your only option then.” Alex said and Jay nodded in agreement.

“I am not breaking into Tim’s house.” Brian scoffed.

----

“I’m going to have to break in aren’t I?” Brian muttered, slumping himself against the front door of Tim’s home. He had knocked on the door for what felt like half an hour and only got a “Go away, Brian” from Tim. So, Brian knew he was home. But that was already clear due to Tim’s parked car.

Brian sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was around to see him. Brian did not want the police to roll up because a neighbour called for them because they saw a blond college kid acting suspicious. He began circling Tim’s house, looking for any windows that were cracked open, but none were and all the curtains were shut. Brian sighed, beginning to check to see if any of the windows near the living room were unlocked.

He nearly gave up, but one eventually slid up a bit. Brian blinked in surprise before he broke out grinning and he began sliding open the window. Brian climbed his way into the living room and his feet made a small ‘thud’ onto the floor once he got in. None of the lights in the house were on and the floor was littered with garbage, cigarette buts and barely closed cardboard boxes. Brian frowned, beginning to make his way to Tim’s bedroom. He kept his eyes on the ground to make sure he didn’t fall over any of the boxes as he walked to the bedroom.

Once he got there, he knocked on the door. It was quiet and Brian knocked again, “Tim? It’s Brian.” He announced, placing his hand on the doorknob. Luckily for Brian, Tim’s room didn’t have a lock on it, or else he knew that Tim would’ve had his door locked.

“...How’d you get in Brian? Go away.” Tim spoke up, voice clearly rough and Brian frowned, not going away and beginning to open the door. Tim’s room was just as dark as the rest of his house and the whole bedroom was completely packed up and empty besides for a mattress and cardboard boxes. Brian frowned, feeling the wall for the light switch. Once he found it, he flicked it on and the room filled with light.

Tim, who was curled up on the mattress, flinched and curled up more into himself at the suddenness of the light. “Tim, what are you doing?” Brian asked, scanning the nearly empty room.

“Go away.” Tim ordered again, keeping his back towards Brian. Brian frowned, crossing his arms and walking over to the mattress.

“I am not leaving, why is everything packed up?” Brian asked and Tim stayed quiet. Brian sighed, glancing around again before looking back at the curled up male, “Tim, I’m worried about you, what’s wrong?”

“...I have to leave.”

“Leave?”

“I’m gonna be moving.”

Brian furrowed his eyebrows, “What? Why?”

“I have to...It’s for the best.” Tim mumbled, “You should leave.”

Brian sank down to sit on the mattress and he patted Tim’s legs, “What do you mean it’s for the best, Tim?”

“I…” Tim mumbled, shrugging, “It just is.”

“How?”

“I’m…” Tim paused before sighing, “Brian, you should just leave…”

“No.” Brian stubbornly refused, adjusting to look at Tim, “What’s wrong?” Tim stayed quiet and the blond sighed, “Please tell me what’s wrong..”

Tim shook his head, “Just leave.”

“Stop telling me to leave, I’m not going to leave until you tell me what’s wrong, please?” Brian said, “I’m not buying it that this is just you suffering from a recurring nightmare. I’m no specialist, but I’m sure that no recurring nightmare causes someone to want to pack up and skip town.”

Tim was quiet for a few seconds before sighing, adjusting and sitting up, but kept his eyes downcast, “Uhm..My mom, she..um, called me a while ago...And she’s really sick and I’m planning on moving up north so, uh, I can be closer to her, for a while at least, you know?”

“I thought you weren’t close with either of your parents..?”

“Uhm, I’m not...But, you know, I should probably try to be, you know? May be the last chance I’ve got.” Tim shrugged and Brian nodded, giving the male another pat.

“Right..Well, you’ll keep in contact right?” Brian questioned and Tim nodded, twisting his hair around one of his fingers.

“I’ll try.” Tim mumbled, “...Can you...please leave now?”

Brian hesitated before nodding, slowly standing up, “You promise you’ll keep in contact right?”

“I will.” Tim watched Brian leave and he slumped over once he heard the front door shut. He put his head in his hands

He really was a huge liar, huh?

#writing #marble hornets #mh #tim wright #brian thomas #alex kralie #jay merrick #fic

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Bad Mood (Trixya) - DenDenMonMon

Of Lovers, Friends and Everything in Between. Part 8.- Oral Sex

Title: Bad Mood Category: M/M Summary: Trixie is about to find out the curative properties of Katya’s oral skills. Notes: On the original challenge there were two number 45 entries, I almost did both, but finally decided to pick this one. Please remember that this is a work of fiction and any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. Once again, female pronouns are used when they are in drag. Written: May 16th, 2020 - July 16th, 2020 (Honestly, it took me this long to finish this because stan twitter, and its cancel culture, made it hard for me to enjoy writing Trixya. Someone said it was easier if we thought of them as fictional characters within the fanfiction side of the fandom, and that made it so much easier. So now I’m back, back, back again!)

Bad Mood

I don’t think I have ever been happier in my entire life.

This is it. This is what I was born to do. This is me. This is who I am, Trixie Mattel.

Standing on the center of the stage, I line up with my sisters. We hold hands, lift them up in the air and take a bow. The crowd goes wild, the gays go insane. The yelling, the screaming, the clapping, the loud music, there’s nothing in the world that I like to hear more than that. The sweating, the foot pain, the tight clothes, those are things I could very easily live without; but it’s only a small price to pay.

As soon as we are allowed to leave the stage, I take my wig off. By the time I reach the last step of the ladder, my dress is already unzipped. I stumble with my own feet as I try to walk and undress at the same time. My body bounces between the wall and my friends. It’s fun and it makes me laugh hysterically.

We reach the dressing rooms, and I open mine with a loud scream, a scream filled with joy, laughter and pure happiness. Adrenaline runs through by veins, making my whole body pulse to the rhythm of my bloodstream.

Long fingers wrap around my arms and I recognize the owner right away.

“Bitch!” Maybe it’s out of pure excitement, maybe it’s because her ears are still buzzing, but Katya stops me and yells right to my face. “That was our best show yet!” She screams through bright red lips. Even when I’m halfway through the process of de-dragging, she’s still living her whole woman fantasy, and I’m sure we will leave this venue with her still in full drag.

Both her hands land on my shoulders and she shakes me, trying to physically make me understand her words. I let her. My body goes limp and I allow her to treat me like a rag doll. She laughs, I laugh. We look into each other’s eyes and the laughter turns louder. I can’t stop myself, my arms go around her and I pull her into a tight hug. This is so unlike me. If there’s anything that I can’t stand is physical contact like this and, here I am, breaking all my rules and initiating a hug.

Katya’s energy is contagious, I can feel my inner batteries recharging the longer I hug her. Unfortunately, our moment is interrupted when security knocks on the open door, saying that someone is looking for her. The sparkle in her eye is something that I’m familiar with, and the side smile taking over her entire face is the last confirmation I need.

The bitch is about to have sex.

I see her padded ass swaying as she exits the room, leaving me alone in the poorly lit room. It’s cozy, it’s cute. I like it. I’m even humming to myself as I take my makeup off.

Just when I’m about done, I see people rushing past my door. I go out, trying to see what’s the commotion about, and I crash into Alaska in the hallway. She is really in a hurry.

“Trix, come on!” She says pulling me by the arm.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Remember those guys that met us at the airport?” I nod as she starts walking. “Well, Katya brough one backstage. They are doing it in her dressing room.” A giggle interrupts her every other word, because this whole thing sounds ridiculous. We all know Katya sleeps with fans, why is it such big news now?

We reach a bunch of people, all pushing each other and giggling like little kids. The door is opened just a crack, and they are all trying to look through it.

“Move, move,” Alaska makes way for us to reach the front and my heart stops.

Katya looks beautiful, so beautiful. That’s the first thing that registers in my brain. Her blonde hair falls like a courtine covering part of her face, making everything feel almost mysterious. She’s on her knees, her shoes thrown to the side. The naked guy she’s sucking is the last thing I notice. All I can think of is how sexy she looks. She’s all woman, pleasuring a guy who seems to be fully enjoying it. He is grunting, and breathing heavily. His fingers tangle in her wig and she moans loudly with him deep in her mouth.

This is… wrong. We shouldn’t be watching. We shouldn’t be here. We should be getting ready to go. I look around and see that most of the queens are, either still in drag, or wearing their normal clothes with a full face on. We are never leaving this place. I just wanna go.

“You guys, we should get going,” I try to call their attention, remind them we have a bus to catch. All I get is booing as they shove me away from the door.

Fine.

I don’t even want to see that anyway. They are clearly showing off. There’s no way they don’t know people are watching, they are putting on a show. Nobody makes those noises. Katya can’t possibly be that good, can she?

It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I just wanna leave here. This dressing room area is hot and dirty, and I want out. My own room is tiny, and overheated. There are no fans or ventilation. The more I look around the place, the less I like it. The chairs have stains and so does the carpet. Gross. The room is dirty, who knows how many people have been here before me. And it’s messy, my stuff is thrown everywhere, picking it all up is gonna take forever.

Before anything, I need to get rid of the rest of these uncomfortable clothes. Being in drag is the absolute worst. Everything hurt. Everything smells. It’s disgusting. Moments like this make me wonder why I even picked this line of work. As I take everything off and throw it in its place, I remember how easy my life used to be working at the MAC counter. Simpler times.

It takes me a few minutes, but I finally get everything in the suitcases and ready to go. My face is still stained but it will go away once I shower. I walk out with my backpack on, ready to leave. Since, clearly, nobody is going to listen to me, I grab all my stuff and wheel the suitcases to the bus. The driver seems surprised to see me here by myself, still he rushes to my side and helps me with my stuff. He doesn’t disturb me as I sit alone, looking at my phone. He lets me be for as long as it takes for everybody else to get here. It feels as if days have passed before the small space is filled with loud laughter, yelling and screaming. Just like I predicted, Katya still looks… like Katya. Her lipstick is perfectly applied on her lips, and I have a million questions running through my head. Did she reapply it? What brand is it? Did it endure the sucking of a dick?

“But you ate his whole ass!” Someone shouts. I don’t register who when my full attention is focused on her flawless lips.

She shrugs a shoulder. “You know I love eating a good ass,” she says so casually, so easily; but then she can’t hold it any longer and burst out laughing. Her cool exterior cracks to let her goofy self be seen.

They are still talking about that guy’s ass when she sits next to me. I don’t wanna deal with that right now, so I close my eyes. Nobody notices I’m pretending and nobody bothers me. It’s hard to sleep on a bus, or a plane, or a hotel. Anywhere that is not my own bed, basically. My back hurts all the time, and the corsets I need for my different outfits just make everything worse. Putting and taking off my makeup, without giving my skin a day to breathe, is making me break out. There’s nothing I hate more than that, than this whole thing. Days and nights have no difference when all you see is the inside of a bus, crowded with the same faces, as it takes you from venue to venue, from airports to the next crappy hotel.

And that’s how the next week passes.

After several cities without a day off, I just feel tired, more than usual. My mood just keeps getting worse the more time I spend on this suspension of reality.

Honestly, I don’t even know where we are right now. All I know is that we have a full day here; then we have to catch a plane and start the Asian leg of the tour. I’m just glad that we get to rest. That’s the reason why I go straight to my hotel room as soon as the show is over.

The shower head has horrible pressure so I take as little time in there as possible, just enough to wash all the sweat away and get rid of the traces of makeup. When I walk out of the bathroom, wearing a pajama set that hasn’t seen a washing machine in weeks, I’m shocked to see Katya sitting on the bed.

“Geez, Brian, don’t they know about knocking in Boston?” I roll my eyes as I walk past her. Her. The whole woman that is Katya Zamolodchikova. The use of her actual name, of the man that lives underneath all the layers of hair and makeup, slips out in pure annoyance.

“Okay, enough.” She stands up, anger is visible in her features.

She kicks her heels off and her shoulders square up. Is she going to hit me? This wouldn’t be the first time a woman kicks my ass. I have never been punched by a drag queen before, though.

“Whip it out,” she orders, a long red nail points in the direction of my pants.

“What?” I ask, confused.

Her shoulders drop, and an exasperated sigh leaves her lips. “Take it out. You have been insufferable since you saw me sucking that guy’s dick, whip it out so I can suck yours.”

Out of instinct, my hands go down to cover my crotch. “Wha- No! You are insane.”

“Trix, okay, listen. Everybody has commented how you have been impossible to be around. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news, but it is the truth, Mary. Now, they don’t know what caused it, but I know you and, bitch, you gotta get a grip!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My hand waves in front of her, dismissing her whole speech.

I try to walk away, put some distance between us.

“You are jealous.” Just like that, she stops me. Not physically, she’s still standing on the other end of the bed, but her words stop me cold.

“You need to leave.” The sentence, laced with anger, escapes me before I can think.

She walks to me, slowly, padded hips swaying with each step. She throws her synthetic hair back in one swift motion. I’m frozen in place, hypnotized by the femenine moves.

Her hand goes up to my chest, she doesn’t do anything, just rests her hand against my racing heart.

“Let me do it,” she whispers. Her face is so close to mine that I can detect the smell of coffee on her breath. “I want to do it. Do you want me to do it?” Her hand slides down, gently, caressing. “Do you want me to do it?” she repeats, in a serious tone this time. She’s actually asking for my permission.

I look deep into her eyes, those endless pools of emotion, framed by fake lashes. “You are a woman,” I blurt out.

A side smile takes over her face. “You have never been with a girl before?” She’s back to playful, a seductress that knows exactly how to play the game.

“I’m gay.” My mouth expels the words without asking my brain’s approval.

This time she laughs, loudly. “Bitch, I know that. And I also know that you need this. We need to do this so the world can have peace again. Please, God.” She makes a pause. Her free hand reaches the hem of her dress. “If you need a reminder of what I really am, I can show you my dick too.”

Once again, faster than my thoughts, my body reacts. I take hold of her wrist and stop her. “No. Don’t. I want Katya. I want Katya to do it.”

She doesn’t need an explanation, she knows exactly what I need, what I’m asking for. She doesn’t have to be told twice. This is the green light she was waiting for. We are doing this. Finally. No matter how hard I’ve tried to deny it. It doesn’t matter for how long I’ve tried to push the fantasy at the very back of my mind; it has always been exactly that, a fantasy. I have dreamed and daydreamed about being with her for a long time. At first it was about him, about Brian. The idea of being with someone so experienced always made me curious. Katya is so sexy, so sensual, that adding her to the mix just made sense.

Her lips land on the corner of my mouth, it’s quick and tender. My hand immediately goes up, to touch the spot. She’s by now kissing my chin, then my neck. The butterfly kisses continue as she makes her way down. No traces of lipstick are left behind. I seriously need to at least know the brand she’s using, it really is not coming off at all.

My thoughts are brought to a halt when her mouth reaches the waistband of my pants. She looks up, dark eyes piercing mine. She’s asking one more time if this is okay, and I can’t do anything but nod.

What happens after that is a blur. I feel the cool air hitting my legs, then I lift one foot at the time under her command as she removes my pants. The blonde wig gets closer and closer to my crotch. I can feel Katya’s hand on me and my eyes roll back. She takes me into her mouth. Her lips are soft, softer than I remember them. They feel so good around me. My head snaps back when I feel them on my pelvis. Like, even when I don’t like talking about it, I know I’m big, and she just took me all in.

My eyes grow wide, my mouth opens and an inhuman sound comes out from the back of my throat. I look down, my face most likely contorted in shock. The complete opposite to hers. She wiggles her eyebrows with her lips around my dick. The bitch knows what she’s doing, she knows her ability is impressive and will brag about it, even if it’s just through her stare. And I’m about to get the whole experience.

Katya’s moves are easy at first. She takes me in and out of her mouth at a slow pace. Her hand holds me by the base as she relaxes her throat and pushes me all the way in. She sucks me hard, before letting me go with a heavy exhale. Her tongue goes around the head a few times, then she’s licking up and down my length. And I’m feeling all of this since my eyes seem unable to remain open. But I want to see her. I want to get the full picture, a picture that will replace the mental images of her I use to jerk off to.

One of her hands goes between my thighs, opening them a bit wider. Next thing I feel is her head moving between my legs, licking my asshole. She releases me for just a second and, just like that, she’s behind me. Her palms land on each of my buttcheeks. “Oh, God,” she sighs against my skin. “I love to eat a clean ass.” I feel her hot breath first, and her tongue second. My senses are overloaded, making me feel everything at once. Her lips, her tongue, her hot mouth on my ass; the blonde hair tickling my legs, her hand still pumping me. It’s all too much.

It takes only a few seconds before I can’t take it anymore. My knees give out and I feel myself falling forward.

“Woah, there,” she lets out as she catches me. Her hands find my stomach as Katya pushes me back, preventing me from falling but, at the same time, pressing her face against my butt.

Without giving me a moment to recollect myself, she’s already back at eating my ass. “Wa-wait.” I try to stop her, but talking and breathing and feeling at the same time seems impossible. “I need to - just… give me a second.” With shaky legs I walk to an armchair and, more than sitting down, I drop myself on the cushion with a heavy sigh.

In the background, I can hear her laughing and the rustling of fabric as she stands up. “That good, huh?”

Mumbling is all I can do to answer her rhetorical question. Because she’s right, she is simply that good. Only a few minutes with her and I’m already at her mercy. I can’t even see straight, the whole room is spinning. I throw my head back as I feel my chest raising and falling. With one arm over my eyes, I try to calm my breathing unsuccessfully. Then I feel her again, her hands caress my thighs and there’s nothing I can do but grunt.

“Ready to finish what we started?”

Every cell on my body comes together to give me the strength that I need. I look down at her and nod. She’s biting her lower lip, trying to suppress a smile. Her lips are stained with red, the lipstick finally smudged. Surprisingly, it only makes her look even sexier.

She wiggles her eyebrows at me as she moves down, taking my entire length into her mouth. Her mouth is wet, and warm, and it feels oh, so good. I see the blonde wig bobbing up and down as she sucks me off. It’s time to turn one of my fantasies into a reality. My fingers run through her hair, luckily, she remembered to glue the wig this time. That’s the reason why I can actually take a hold of her hair and guide her to the pace that I want. With my fingers tangled in her golden locks, I pull and push her head as I please. She moans around me, enjoying how I’m taking control. The speed suddenly increases, as well as the sounds coming from her.

Katya takes me all in, then releases me, just long enough for her to curse out loud, before sucking me back in. Both of my hands are pushing her down by this point. Her eyes go up to look at me while she still has my entire dick in her mouth. Her eyelashes flutter as she lets me go. Then she smiles as she goes down on me again. This fucking bitch smiles! And that is it for me. My eyes roll back and my mouth falls open. There’s a hot wave taking over me as I cum long and hard.

I’m almost spasming, and she doesn’t even flinch. She drinks me all in, then licks me clean of any remaining.

“Welp,” she says getting up. The back of her hand cleans her own mouth, leaving a harsh trace of red across her cheek. “Now that I have sucked the bad mood out of you, the world can have some peace.” She laughs at her own words, and I chuckle right along with her.

“You know?” I get up with a smile on my face, an actual smile. “I had no idea I needed this. Thank you.” I find my pants and put them on, still feeling like I’m floating on air.

She shrugs a shoulder, proud of herself. “I may not have many talents, but I do know how to suck a dick.”

“And eat ass!” I add after her.

She laughs loudly, a hand gripping my arm as she does.

“No, really,” I assure her, stepping right into her space. “That was… amazing. Bad mood who? What? I don’t know her.”

Her laughter fills the air around us. “Not a problem.”

We share a smile, a knowing smile, a bond was just created. I pull her to me. I’m not going to thank her. A hug will have to do. My body feels so light, not a single drop of tension or stress left. I inhale deeply, she smells like sweat, and sex, and… Katya. It’s hot.

“Wanna stay and watch like a movie or something?” I ask, still smiling. “Maybe I could even return the favor.” The suggestion comes out casually. Deep down, though, I’m dying to experience more of her.

She waves a hand in front of my face. “Nah, no need. I actually have a trick coming over, but thanks! Maybe some other time.” She walks around and finds her shoes, putting them under her arm before she walks to me again. “Glad you feel better,” she says before placing a soft kiss on my cheek.

I watch her walk to the door, open it and then disappear behind her, leaving me alone in my hotel room. Wait, was the room always this ugly?

Ugh! I hate it here.

-End Notes-

Massive shout out to the authors on the AQ discord server, who allowed me to pick their brains and annoy the heck out of them so this story could come to life. Thank you so much for reading! See you again soon. -Monkey.

#rpdr fanfiction #trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #smut #canon compliant #of lovers #dendenmonmon

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

Text

Too Early

Summary: with your sister staying over at a friend’s house, you had expected silence for a change in the morning. However, you woke up to music much like you always did. Except, it wasn’t hers.

Pairing: Park Sungjin x reader

Genre: neighbours to lovers au / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: I wrote this the night my sister stayed over at a friend’s house. I was so relieved for a night’s break after how difficult she and her autism has been lately. I wasn’t going to share this but she was so delighted that I wrote this about her mannerisms that she has begged me to share it. Because I wrote this with her specific behaviour in mind, it may seem a little ridiculous to someone who’s not aware of how a child with autism can be.

Word count: 3759

“Okay, have a good time, sweetie!” you called as your autistic sister Hayley ran off with her best friend into her house, and after sharing a knowing smile with her mother, you said your goodbyes, heading back out to your car and climbed inside.

As soon as the door was closed, you let out a big sigh of relief.

You loved your sister, of course, it was a given that you would do anything for her. Especially since it was just you and her now. Life had changed over the last year a great deal and you were still finding your feet. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle the challenge of raising the thirteen year old or that you hadn’t played a huge part in Hayley’s life before she came to live with you permanently, but you definitely couldn’t dismiss the changes you had made to become her guardian either.

And tonight you would have the entire house to yourself. You felt a little reckless as you pulled out into the traffic, chewing on your bottom lip in anticipation. What would you have for dinner? You didn’t have to concern yourself over her finicky eating habits so could cook whatever you felt compelled to eat. And you could even pull out the tub of ice-cream you had buried deep in the back of the freezer for a guilt-free treat, knowing that she would be none-the-wiser of its existence and eat it all on you like usual.

You didn’t feel selfish about being happy for a night of freedom since you missed the simple pleasures of how peaceful life had been before the tweenager moved in. Once in a blue moon, you allowed yourself to feel deserving of such a night alone like this. Of course, you’d miss Hayley, you always did because it felt weird when she wasn’t holed up in her room on her devices or complaining at you about something you did or didn’t do. You had become too accustomed to the life filled with typical teenage entitlements and not having to hear about them for one night would be really refreshing.

You fist-pumped the air when you realised that tomorrow you could sleep in until you woke up on your own accord, embarrassment licking at your face as you darted your gaze to the neighbouring vehicle at the set of lights you were stopped at who was watching you curiously. Calming yourself some, you smiled all the way home, grateful that sleepovers still interested your sister.

You hoped she would love spending time with her friends for the rest of her teenage years as well.

Once inside your home, you turned on some music and enjoyed preparing your dinner. And just as planned, you dug into the back of the freezer an hour after dinner, taking the tub of ice-cream over to the sofa where you spent the rest of your evening until you were ready for bed.

Smoothing down your blankets after you were nestled deep inside your happy bubble, you smiled to yourself about tomorrow morning. You wouldn’t be woken by music at the crack of dawn. No, there would be no thumping, no giggling, no endless chatter that you were used to from the high energy of your sister each morning. Six am would come and go in silence.

This reassuring thought was the last thing you basked in before slipping into your dreams, where you remained until you heard thumping.

Music.

Muffled voices.

Were you dreaming?

Rolling over with a groan, you blearily opened your eyes just enough to see the time on your phone you had grabbed off your nightstand. Another disgruntled noise left you when realised it wasn’t even seven-thirty in the morning yet.

You would murder whoever it was.

Turning on your wifi access, you scrolled through your phone for the app that controlled the television. You frowned when it didn’t connect like usual, realising it wasn’t your TV playing the bass at all.

No, that sounded like an actual bass drum thumping in tune. What on earth was happening? Getting up, you put your dressing robe on over your oversized tee, padding through your home to ensure your sister wasn’t playing some wicked prank on you somehow. Now alert, you knew she wasn’t home, and yet you checked every room, soon realising the music was coming from outside of your home.

Who the hell would be playing music this early in the morning if it weren’t for your sister?!

Pushing your feet into your slippers, you opened the front door, looking towards the only other townhouse in this corner of the property. You knew someone lived there, though admittedly you hadn’t met them yet. The other residents in the complex were on the opposite side of the grassy courtyard, and you had been grateful there was some distance between you and your neighbours with how loud it could be in your home at times.

You hadn’t once thought your neighbour could be the cause of such ruckus as well.

Taking a deep breath, you marched over to their front door, climbing the small three steps to it before knocking. Of course, over the music, you doubted they would hear you, so you thumped on it harder, cursing under your breath when there was still no answer. You spun around to leave, and then the music stopped, the door opening behind you.

When you turned around again, you could only gape at what you saw.

And your expression was mirrored by the man who stood there. With ears turning red, he then diverted his eyes to the morning skies, giving you enough time to gather up your robe more firmly around yourself.

Trust you to meet your hot neighbour in your bedclothes.

Well, you hoped he was your neighbour at least.

“Uh hi,” you managed, cringing all the same. “What’s with the music? It’s Saturday morning and everyone’s trying to sleep.”

“Oh, are you from next door? Hayley’s sister?” the man asked, now recovered from your appearance. You merely stared at him, stunned he knew of your sister but you had no idea who he was.

Then again, that was expected. Your sister seemed to know everyone and they knew her. It was an intrinsic trait of hers that you would never comprehend.

Finally, you nodded swiftly and he grinned at you, sticking his hand out. “I’m Sungjin.”

“Right, and you’re also making a lot of noise,” you stated, slipping your hand into his. You tried to not be obvious when you were surprised by how warm his palm was against yours. “Uh, I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I didn’t think noise was a big issue at this time of the morning for you. Sorry, did we wake you? It’s just we have an important gig today at one so we thought we’d start practice now since it’s normally not a problem.”

“What do you mean it’s not normally a problem?”

Sungjin chuckled awkwardly before leaning forward. “Your house is usually loud by now.”

On the one morning where you had hoped for silence, your reputation, or your sister’s reputation would lead you into this situation. You clasped your forehead within your hand, trying to keep it together.

And then a second guy arrived in the threshold, his eyes widening at your clothing choice. You groaned inwardly, he was just as handsome as Sungjin. He looked between you and his friend. “Hayley’s sister?”

“Oh my God,” you breathed, shaking your head a little. “Does everyone know my sister in this area? Why don’t I know a thing about you guys?”

“Well, it’s just that she answered the door one morning when I moved in. She told us it’s totally cool to make noise in the mornings as she’s an early riser.”

“She’s thirteen,” you explained, clamping your eyes shut. “Maybe you should have asked for an adult?”

“Oh, she said you’re a heavy sleeper and wouldn’t get up even for the dead, right Brian?”

“Clearly she’s not though,” the other guy, now known as Brian mentioned, nudging his friend before smiling graciously at you. “Hey, we’re really sorry if we woke you, we didn’t mean to. We just have a-”

“Gig, I know,” you cut in, nodding. You went to say something else and then thought better of it, smiling weakly before dashing off down their pathway and back up your own. You could feel eyes on you the whole way until you were back inside your home and you let out a small scream, stomping into your room.

It was reasonable to be this frustrated right? After all, who had band practice before eight in the morning – important performance or not! And although she wasn’t present right now, you were ready to sit down and have a chat with your sister. How had you as a light sleeper not heard her open the front door and talk to strangers? You panicked over the idea of what else you were inadvertently letting her do and doubted your parenting skills. You had honestly believed all the noise each morning was her, and since she was so good at talking to herself or replying to the people in the Youtube shows she watched, you had missed the potential risk of her opening the front door more than once.

You were too wound up for sleep now.

Yet it was quiet next door until an hour later, where you heard the music start up again.

At least the sun was fully in the skies this time around.

“I’m coming to pick you up,” you told the girl over the phone and Hayley didn’t answer you right away, her friend’s voice in the background barely heard over some music. “Hayley, did you hear me?”

“Can you come into town instead? I’m with Mikayla and her older sister and it would be nice to have some time with you outside of the house for once.”

You almost scoffed. You could barely encourage the child away from the confines of her bedroom some days. All the same, you collected your keys from the stand in the hallway and slung your bag over your shoulder. “I’ll text you when I’m nearby so you can direct me to you.”

You didn’t need much help finding whereabouts in town your sister would be when you arrived. There was music thumping around the town’s square, a makeshift stage now in the middle of the area. A lot of people, both intentionally there for the performance and those who were passing by and curiously stopped to see what was happening, filled the square and you moved through them, looking for the teenager and her friend.

Instead, you saw someone familiar climb up onto the stage, guitar in hand. Stopping, you watched as Brian followed Sungjin and three others took to their positions, your mouth falling ajar at the fact that they were really performing. Sure, you had heard their music in the background of your morning routine, but you hadn’t been prepared to actually see them perform today. Without much thought, you moved through the crowd to get a better view, vaguely aware of your name being called out when your sister excitedly latched herself onto your arm.

“You made it just in time to watch Day-Six!”

“Who?” you breathed, staring back up at Sungjin and his other band members when the music you had heard muffled through the walls was amplified around the square.

You much preferred it this way. Their music was really good and before you realised it, you were smiling, moving along to the beat of the song. Day6 played three other songs before their set was up, and your sister clapped loudly beside you.

It brought you out of your stupor. “You should have told me about the guys next door.”

“Why? You’d just tell them to turn down their music in the morning too and I like listening when they do play. It’s not very often I hear their music.”

“No, because your own is loud enough,” you retorted with a smile and Hayley giggled.

“They’re really nice. Sungjin said I can call him my brother.”

“You need to have better stranger danger skills,” you chided, though you looked to the guy in question, Brian now pointing you and Hayley out in the crowd. Sungjin smiled and waved, in which your sister began to bounce up and down at your side flailing her arms back in greeting. And then before you could stop her, she was propelling you over to the band now at the side of the stage packing up their equipment.

Hayley leapt into Brian’s arms and you rubbed the back of your neck nervously.

“So uh, she’s that close with you all, huh?”

“I’m sorry about this morning, truly. I honestly should have done what you suggested as an adult. But she’s pretty friendly.”

“Yeah, she’s been that way her whole life. We’ve never been able to quite keep her under control. She probably knows more people in this world than I will ever get to know.”

“She seems like a good kid. You’re doing really well by her.”

“Even though I didn’t know about her spending time with my neighbour?” you offered and Sungjin chuckled, nodding softly.

“If it eases you any, most of her interactions are when she is in the backyard. She likes to hang-”

“Over the fence,” you finished for him and Sungjin grinned.

“You have a bad habit of finishing sentences for others.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard about it. If she’s any trouble-”

“None, honestly.” You shared a smile with Sungjin when your sister reappeared, hugging the man comfortably before coming to your side. “Sis, who do you like the most? I think that Sungjin or Brian might be a good fit for your next boyfriend.”

“Time to go!” you breathed, yanking on her arm as your cheeks flared up.

“What, why?! You need to date and find a nice guy who will help look after both of us!” Hayley whined, allowing you to drag her off back to where her friend and older sister waited. It still wasn’t enough space between you and Sungjin, trying not to let your mortification truly show.

Your sister didn’t know any better.

Three months passed by and you definitely knew your neighbours now. You found out that only Brian and Sungjin lived there, Jae, Wonpil and Dowoon commuting from another apartment to the townhouse whenever they had to practice.

Which, they hadn’t done so early in the morning since.

Somehow, you had convinced your sister into wearing noise-cancelling headphones in the morning to enjoy her music, and whilst she still giggled and chatted, it definitely wasn’t as bad as before. You could comfortably sleep until seven before you got up to help her with her daily routine.

Everything seemed to be going well for you both.

Until you turned up on Sungjin’s front doorstep, arms across what was a very soaked through top. Like he had the first time you met him, he took you in and then darted his eyes to the heavens, no doubt asking why he was being tested so early in the day again.

“I need help.”

“You need to stop turning up on my doorstep like this,” he murmured and you shook your head, gaining his attention. “Is Hayley okay?”

“She’s fine, she stayed at her friend’s house again,” you quickly explained, pulling a hand away from your chest long enough to reach for his wrist. “I need you to come help me.”

Once back in your house, you took Sungjin to the sink that was spluttering water everywhere. He glanced at you and then back at the sink, diving in to fix it. Nothing was really working and you watched as more water soaked through the towels on the floor and Sungjin’s clothes as well.

“The water main is outside, do you know where it is?” he yelled over the increasing water level and you nodded, dashing outside and pulling the lever you found in the box. When you returned to the house, you found a sodden Sungjin standing above the now quiet sink.

And you began to laugh.

“I’m sorry!” you managed in between your giggles, the man wiping the water away from his face slowly. “It’s just that you’re soaked through.”

“So are you,” he pointed out, glancing at you and smirking. “You have a lot more to lose out on right now than me.”

“I don’t know about that,” you mentioned, eyes now on his silhouette shaping through his sodden clothes. Had he really housed all that under his clothing? You took in a shallow breath, feeling reckless as you moved closer to him, Sungjin not hesitating to take you in his arms, lips crashing down on yours.

The sensation of burning skin against the cold as your lips meshed with his was overwhelming and you let out a moan, deepening the embrace. Now entrapped against the sink and Sungjin’s body, you couldn’t help but gasp into the kiss when you felt the water from the overflowing sink run down your back.

Sungjin pulled away to see why you had arched into him so quickly, an apologetic smile crossing his swollen lips. “Cold?”

“Hot,” you admitted as the flush of colour reached your cheeks and he nodded in answer, letting you know he felt the same way.

“What do we do about the water?”

“Which body of water?” you wondered, trying to shake off the heady stupor from the moment. You then saw where he was looking and nodded. “Right, the water covering my entire kitchen.”

Sungjin grinned, his hands that were on your waist tightened a little. “Well, which problem do you want to face first?”

“This was a problem?”

“Only with the fact that we’re wet,” he told you, looking down at your chest momentarily. “I want to be decent with you at least in the beginning.”

“Isn’t it a little too late now? I think I’ve seen more than enough,” you responded though Sungjin’s expression left you wondering what more would be waiting underneath those clothes. You couldn’t believe how sinful your thoughts were being at eight in the morning.

Especially with someone you had been rather cautious with ever since your sister had tried to hook you both up. Still, you had never ignored the fact that he was handsome, with his sturdy build and gentle smiles.

“Let’s clear the water up first,” Sungjin announced and you nodded, welcoming some clarity into the situation.

It was quick work and with the help of a few towels, a mop and bucket, and Sungjin, the kitchen was as dry as it would be for now. Though you were definitely cold from your damp clothing. And with the way Sungjin held himself when he placed the mop into the bucket a final time, you could tell he was as well.

“You need to change,” you instructed, Sungjin chewing on his bottom lip. He nodded slowly, allowing you to take him to your front door before spinning around to face you.

“The water is turned off here, what will you do until the repairman comes? You need to shower to warm up too.”

“I’ll just dry off with-”

“A towel? We used your entire dry stash.” It amused you that he finished off your sentence and Sungjin chuckled. “I guess I learned it from you.”

“Maybe we think the same?”

“I hope we do,” he agreed and you smiled, reaching around for the keys on the stand beside him.

“So, your shower?”

“Grab a change of clothing and then come over.”

“Is Brian at home?” you wondered, suddenly turning shy. It was one thing to let Sungjin see you in a vulnerable state; it was another entirely for his housemate to also be privy.

He shook his head with a smile. “Just me.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

Once showered, you shyly exited the bathroom, smelling just like Sungjin’s body wash. It seemed to have an affect on him, and the man all but dashed by you, making you giggle at the idea of him struggling with some internal desire.

You didn’t want to admit you liked the idea that you unravelled some of his modesty. Since he was definitely doing the same to you, it only seemed fair. His shower didn’t seem to take long at all, the man reappearing with fresh clothes and a towel rubbing through his hair. You smiled at the sight and Sungjin sighed, shaking his head at you.

“If you don’t dry your hair off, you’ll catch a cold with how long we were wet for. Come here,” he said, pulling the towel from his hair to yours. You smiled up at him as he towel-dried your hair, the soft moment soon morphing back into another passionate embrace.

You couldn’t get enough now that this had started.

But then you were interrupted again, this time by a knock at the door.

Sungjin went to answer it, a familiar voice ringing through the house. You went to find your sister on the doorstep. “What are you doing home?! I was going to pick you up later.”

“Didn’t you get my text? Mikayla’s Mum needed to go out so she dropped me home early. How come you’re over here? And did you both have a shower?”

You waited for your sister to jump to bigger conclusions than what you were actually up to, eyes wide with panic as you looked at Sungjin.

And then Hayley shrugged. “Can we go home now? I need to check Roblox.”

“Sure… we can,” you answered jarringly, fare-welling Sungjin before taking the girl next door.

And just like that, she disappeared from your sight into her bedroom, the hum of her music starting up like usual.

Going back to the front door, you looked over to where Sungjin still stood. He grinned. “Nothing?”

“Nope!”

“Kids,” he called back and you nodded.

It was all because of your sister that you had been introduced to the next-door neighbour. Although your first meeting hadn’t been the best way to meet someone new, you didn’t mind where it was heading now. Sure, you didn’t know how Hayley would react when she found out; she was always a mystery with big changes.

But she had wanted you to find someone who would look out for you both.

And you were certain that Sungjin would continue to do just that.

_________________

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codyssfern · 5 years

Note

college!shawn where his roommates let y/n stay with them because she used to live with her bf but not anymore cuz they broke up and shawn dosent want to let her stay, he’s annoyed with her cuz she’s always happy and giddy and he’s like isn’t she supposed to be sad??she sleeps in the living room and one day when shawn goes to grab a water or something he hears her crying. and he hates it so much. and slowly he starts softening up to her. omg this is so specific im crying 🥺🥺🥺🥺

a/n | warnings: this may be a bit long + lots of swearing

“wait what?!”

brian raises his eyebrows at the boy, not really understanding his confusion or anger. he’d just told shawn that y/n would be staying with them at their dorm. see y/n was previously dating their best friend, adam, and when they broke up shawn was rather relieved, assuming she was gonna stop coming over, finally. let’s just say her perky attitude almost made his blood boil in annoyance.

“dude, she and adam are over! why the fuck does she have to keep living here?” shawn growled as he walked to the kitchen.

brian couldn’t believe his shitty attitude, “because she’s our friend, shawn! she’s mine and connor’s too. by now i thought you two would’ve been friends too.”

shawn chuckles under his breath.

“y/n is nothing but nice to you. to all of us! and adam was an asshole for leaving her like he did and i’m not about to send her out in the streets okay?!”

“the streets? brian you’re talking about the girl who’s dad owns like half of toronto!” shawn defends, “i am sure one phone call is all it takes for her daddy to buy her a brand new condo.”

shawn couldn’t put it to words exactly what was his problem with y/n. all he knew was that every time he saw her or heard her he’d find himself rolling his eyes so far back they could come out the back of his head.

“bro you’re such an asshole! you know how difficult her relationship with her dad is,” shawn shrugs his shoulders while taking a sip of his beer, “just keep your mouth shut if you’re not going to be nice okay? she isn’t really the person you wanna be shitty too right now.”

y/n’s hands trembled as she walked up to the dorm. she wasn’t exactly thrilled to greet her ex boyfriend’s roommates, well just one especifically. shawn. she had no idea why he despised her so much. she had tried so hard to get to know him and give him a chance- of course only on brian’s behalf because if it had been for her, she would’ve given up the second she met him.

“did you ever plan on knocking?”

y/n snaps out of her thoughts and realized she’d been standing on the doorstep for god knows how long.

“oh god how long have i been standing here?” y/n asks in embarrassment.

“dunno’ actually,” brian says letting her in, “shawn’s the one who saw you standing there from outside his window.”

y/n gave him a wry smile, “oh goody, he knows i’m here. do i hide now or later?”

her sarcasm was almost sad to brian. brian hated the way shawn made y/n feel.

“Y/N?!”

brian and y/n turn around and there was connor at the top of the stairs

“well come down here, blue eyes!” y/n said making him giggle and rush down the stairs.

once connor comes down the stairs, he wraps his arms around y/n almost lifting her feet up the ground in the hug, “we’ve missed you much.”

“we?”

the sound of his voice almost made y/n feel tightness in her throat. brian kept looking at y/n waiting to see if she was gonna say something but y/n just stood there.

“sorry. was told to be nice but guess i couldn’t resist,” shawn said walking past her.

y/n scoffs, “yeah, you never miss a chance to be an asshole do you?”

this was going to be one hell of a year. y/n thought to herself. first adam. he’d gotten a job offer at one of the most pristine law firms in london and when he asked y/n to go with him, she said couldn’t. that resulted in a big fight and ended in a breakup. now with him gone and she not wanting to ask her dad for money to rent a place to live, she had to stay with a guy who despised her for a whole year. y/n didn’t know how she was going to do it.

“wait so your dad married a girl half our age?!”

y/n lets out a breathy chuckle, “wouldn’t be the first time.”

“so what you’re saying is,” y/n raises her eyebrow at connor while taking a sip of her beer, “vicky from biology can easily be your next step-mom?”

y/n gasps, nudging connor’s leg with her’s, “oh fuck you, conn!”

the laughs coming from the back patio almost made shawn’s blood boil. he couldn’t understand how she could be so happy and perky after what adam had done. he didn’t understand why she was always so nice even in the most shittiest situations with people. he didn’t understand how she was so positive about things even when they were negative. he envied her. that was it. he wanted to be like her in that sense. not hate the world every time something bad happened to him, he wanted to be understanding like her. sweet like her. but he would never admit it.

“if he starts being a dick you know what to do.” brian motions to shawn who was sitting on the couch watching tv.

y/n nods her head, letting out a weak sigh, “if i had known you two weren’t gonna be here tonight i would’ve come tomorrow.” she admits

“i know, we’re sorry. you know how study groups are,” by then connor started honking, letting brian know they had to go. “you’ll be fine. if you have to lock yourself in mine or connor’s room, just do it.”

brian gives y/n a quick kiss on the cheek before making his way down to the car. and just like that, there were just two. y/n took a deep breath before closing the door and turning around to face shawn. the tension in the air was thick and almost dry in a way. if it hadn’t been for the loud screams coming from the tv, y/n could’ve sworn you could drop a clothing pin and it would echo between the walls.

“i’m gonna go make myself something to eat,” y/n starts, “would you like something?”

shawn sighs, pausing the tv, “yeah maybe a sandwich with a little bit of that perky attitude of yours on the side.” he snaps sarcastically.

“sometimes i can’t believe you’re almost a whole 21 year old, in uni,” shawn’s eyes meet her’s, not letting her out of his gaze, “you know because i don’t think i’ve ever met someone so immature at this day and age in uni.”

shawn chuckled. even when she’s trying to sound mean, she somehow sounds like she’s complimenting him. it filled him with rage. soon enough, y/n gave up and just made her way into the kitchen. her goal? to avoid the boy for the rest of the night.

“you’re the one who left!”

shawn’s eyes flutter. he groans as he hears loud whispers coming from downstairs, shaking his head, running his fingers through his tired eyes. he stretches his legs before pulling the sheets off his exposed skin and rolling out of bed. he’d left his door half opened, that’s why he could hear the noise coming from downstairs.

“you don’t get to call me when you’re drunk and make me feel even shittier for not going with you,” the soft sobs echoing the the whole house almost made shawn’s heart ache. “goodbye, adam. don’t call me again unless you’ve figured out your shit!”

y/n throws her phone across the couch and lets her head fall in her hands. she was a mess but she’d never let anyone see it. her whole body trembling as she sobbed her pain away.

“you okay?”

y/n didn’t answer or even turn to look at him. shawn scratched the back of his head not knowing what to do. in all the years he’d known y/n, he had never seen her break down. she always kept herself in place, in check... something he’d let her believe annoyed him but in reality, he admired it.

“look,” he walks over to her, kneeling down and placing his hands on her knees. they were shaking. “adam’s a dick okay? an absolute dick and you know that black eye he had before he left?”

y/n finally looked up, her red teary eyes, meeting his. “what? now you’re gonna tell me that was you? that you gave him that black eye?” she scoffed in disbelief.

“when brian told me what happened, i felt this sudden rage and in that moment i wanted nothing more but for him to pay for what he did,” shawn explains, “and so that night i went to his room and i punched him.”

y/n looked at him. not quite sure if he believed him but she was way too tired and weak to question him.

“well no more giving out free punches for me, mendes.”

shawn grabbed y/n’s hands from her face and softly brushed his thumb over her warm skin, “i’d go on a punching spree for you.”

y/n chuckled pushing his hand away, “that’s weirdly romantic.”

shawn smiles and gets back on his feet. extending his hand out, “cmon, i’ll make us some tea, we can watch a movie after and cuddle or whatever you need to feel better.”

“brian and connor walking in on us cuddling... that’s definitely gonna make them feel like the world’s coming to an end.” y/n says grabbing shawn’s hand.

“no better way to spend the last day on earth than by cuddling you.”

y/n rolls her eyes, “mendes,” he looks at her, “you’re about the cheesiest guy i’ve ever met.”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes rec #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes angst #request #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #fic rec #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes imagine

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xeunoais · 5 years

Text

Mr. CEO(part 2)

(A/N: i actually like the way that this turned out so i might keep doing things where i have a part one and a part two or i might even go a little crazy and start a series?!! who knows😉)

Summary: Shawn Mendes is one of the youngest CEOs’ in the world. He was also one of the most popular fighters out there. He had a thing going with his personal assistant Y/N. That was until it started going downhill. Will they be able to fix the damage?

“I knew it! Did he get punched? Beaten? By who?”

“Y/N, he broke his wrist.”

“Wait. Huh?”

“The impact of his punch was too much and his wrist snapped.”

“He’s so stupid. I cannot believe him.” I muttered under my breath.

“I know. I will text you all the details and stuff. Get there as soon as you can.”

“Alright. I’m coming.”

I grabbed my car keys and was out the door in a matter of seconds.

“Thanks for coming.” Brian said as I entered the hospital.

I followed him to the fourteenth floor which was apparently reserved for Shawn only. When we entered the room my heart shattered when my eyes landed on him. He looked at me and sighed.

“See. I told you she was fine.” Brian stated.

“Yeah, alright. Now can you drop her back off at home.”

I gritted my teeth and anger shot through my blood.

“I’m done with this game, Shawn. Tell me what’s going on right now.” My voice cracked. I can tell it was because I’m still very upset over the sight in front of me.

“Alright.” Shawn nodded.

“This is my cue to give you love birds some space. I will be back with lunch in about an hour.” Brian said as he walked out.

I walked over and sat down in the chair beside the hospital bed and took in what I saw in front of me. The love of my life was laying in hospital bed hooked up to IVs and a cast on his hand. He looked like he was in so much pain and all I wanted to do was take all of it away from him.

“So when I started fighting, I was apart of this gang. But after a year or so, I became an individual fighter. This had the gang I was apart of very angry. They thought I was going to let out their strategies. So they conspired to try and kill me. They sent threats to my family, to Brian. But I always made sure that my people were safe. Once I became CEO, they backed off a little bit. That was only because if the media found out about their illegal games, they’d be locked up. When they realized I have a girlfriend, that is you, they thought they could threaten me again by harming you. I didn’t want that to happen. That’s why I was behaving in this way. Because I was scared something was going to happen to you. And if anything did, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“Woah.” I mumble finally understanding his what his intentions were.

“But I can’t stay away from you, Y/N. I just can’t. I’m fucking miserable without you.”

“Then don’t.” I say quietly.

“But then you’ll be in danger.”

“Shawn, I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know if I can protect you.”

“Shawn I think you underestimate me and yourself.” I smile.

He rolled his eyes. I smacked his uninjured arm.

“I hate you, Shawn Mendes.”

“No you just hate that you love me so much.” He said with a grin on his face.

*Two years later*

After all of the ups and downs from the past two years with Shawn. Today was the day. I’m finally getting married! My stomach filled with butterflies at the thought. I’m marrying the love of my life today. I’m about to experience one of the most unforgettable moments in my entire life.

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time. I couldn’t be happier. I had my dream wedding dress on. It was exactly what I had visioned it would be when I was a little girl. I felt like a literal princess. Everything was going perfect.

“Y/N? Where are you?” I heard Shawn’s mom, Karen, say approaching the room I was in.

“I’m coming, don’t worry.” I spoke out softly, turning and looking at her as she walked into the room.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N! You look so beautiful!” She said to me. Karen was like the mom figure to me. My mom passed away a year after I met Shawn. My mom was my best friend and losing her broke me entirely. Karen eventually became the mom figure in my life almost the second I met her. I talk to her like she really is my own mom.

“Thank you! You look beautiful too. I love your dress.” I said as I ran my hands over the front of my dress, smoothing out the fabric.

“My dress is nothing compared to yours, love! Shawn will be knocked off his feet when he sees you.” She said fanning her face. I started tearing up at her words about Shawn. Oh my god, did I miss him. Everyone insisted that we couldn’t see other the day before the wedding or the day of. I hate being apart from him because he always calms me down.

“Speaking of Shawn, let’s get there. I wanna see my boy!” I spoke up.

As we walked out of the room my best friend, Aubrey came running up.

“OH MY GOD! You look gorgeous!” She squealed running up to me and Karen.

“Thank you!” I said smiling widely at her.

“I cannot believe my best friend is getting married!”

“Where is everyone else?” I said referring to all my other bridesmaids.

“Here!” Joe yelled running my way with my other two best friends, Addy and Hannah. Joe he worked for Shawn, but he was also my gay best friend. I couldn’t have my wedding and not have him in it.

My other two bridesmaids looked beautiful in their dresses. Their white dresses matched almost perfectly with mine. And Joe looked amazing in his black tailored suit. I have seen my maid of honor yet though and that kind of worried me.

I asked Aaliyah, Shawn’s little sister to be my maid of honor because she had become my best friend. I was close with Karen but I was even closer with Aaliyah.

“Who are you looking for?” Joe asked me.

“Aaliyah.” Aubrey answered him for me.

“She’s already waiting on you now. The groom and the others just left so we told her to not come back since she had already been helping you.” Addy added. I nodded at her understanding.

“Well she is Shawn’s little sister. And she told me she wanted to help as much as possible.” I said and they all nodded.

“Alright well. Let’s go make you a Mendes!” Joe shouted and all of the girls squealed. We walked outside and everyone helped me with the train of my dress. The helped me to my bridal car where I met Aaliyah. Everyone else all went to their cars and she helped me with my dress.

“Thank you.” I said to the chauffeur as he opened the door for me. I got inside and took a deep breath. The chauffeur started the engine and we went to the Cathedral while the media chased us. My wedding was labeled as the most awaited wedding of the year. I didn’t want much spotlight originally but Shawn’s parents wanted it to be grand. So we both decided to just let it happen.

When I arrived at the church I was met with my older brother at the door waiting to walk me down the aisle. He was in a black tailored tux almost identical to Joe’s.

“You look beautiful.” My brother said as he greeted me and opened the door for me. He helped me out of the car and escorted me to the entrance. I thanked him with a smile because my nerves took me over and I simply just couldn’t speak.

When the time arrives for me to walk down the aisle my hands were shaking and my palms were sweaty. What was wrong with me? My nerves were attacking me. Was this even normal?

“Relax. Everything is going to be alright.” My brother said softly to me. We heard music begin to play and that was our signal to enter and walk down the aisle.

I gripped my bouquet tightly and linked arms with my brother. He murmured reassuring words to me to make me less nervous. Who wouldn’t be nervous when you are about to promise your life for a very long commitment. As we walked, guests stood up smiling in our direction. But my eyes we set on the love of my life. He looked so handsome standing tall and proud in his black tuxedo. He smiled at me and that had me so distracted I didn’t even realize we arrived at the altar.

I was getting married. This was no longer a dream. I broke myself out of my trance and looked as his parents shook my brother’s hand. My brother and Shawn nodded at each other as they shook hands.

“Take care of her.” My brother said to Shawn. He turned and kissed my cheek before walking to his seat. Shawn nodded again and offered his hand out to me. I accepted it and took some steps up until I was standing in front of him.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!” The priest announced and everyone clapped at his words while some men whistled.

“Finally.” Shawn whispered to me. He put his hands on my waist and pulled me up against him and kissed me tenderly. I was happy.

“I love you, my angel.” Shawn whispered as he pulled away looking me in the eyes. I admired the man in front of me, who I now can call my husband, before I spoke.

“I love you too, Shawn.” I replied softly. He kissed me again.

“Let us now welcomed, Mr. And Mrs. Mendes!” The priest announced and the crowd erupted into another round of applause and whistles again for us. Shawn proudly waved at everyone with a smile plastered on his face. He looked like he was on cloud nine. I smiled and waved my hand too mentally giggling at the sight oh Shawn.

“Making you Mrs. Mendes was the greatest decision I’ve ever made.”He whispered in my ear before kissing my cheek. I looked at him and took in everything. I felt happier than a little kid on Christmas morning. Nothing could top this feeling.

Well maybe one could..

*6 months later*

Oh shit. This is actually happening. I’m pregnant.

Shawn and I have been trying for a baby for a little bit. I knew it was bound to happen at some point but i didn’t expect it so soon.

I cannot wait to tell Shawn! He’s going to be so happy. He has had me take pregnancy tests every time I start to feel weird or even if he just thinks I should.

He tries to play it off like it doesn’t bother him when the test comes out negative but really, he gets so bummed out. Its actually kinda sad.

How should I tell him? I have the day off today but he had meetings till about 11:30 today. I have Aaliyah and Karen over right now with me because we had a girls day. I don’t wanna tell them first though. Shawn would literally kill me if he wasn’t the first to find out.

“Babe? Liyah? Mom?” I heard Shawn call out.

“In the kitchen, love.” I yelled so he could hear me.

I hopped of the counter and ran to meet him in the doorway. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He instantly hugged me back and lifted me off the ground.

“Well if that wasn’t a welcome home then I don’t know what is.” He laughed as he kissed my lips gently.

“I have a surprise for you.” I said with a big grin on my face.

“A surprise?” He asked a smile rising on his face. I nodded excitedly and smiled as I kissed him again.

“After dinner though.” I patted his chest softly and turned around then walked back to the kitchen with Karen and Aaliyah.

Karen and Aaliyah left after dinner and it was just us two. I was laying on the couch with a book in my hands when Shawn came over to me. He took the book out of my hands and lied on top of me where his head was on my stomach.

My hands made their way to his damp curls. He closed his eyes and smiled.

“Tired?” I said as he nodded his head softly.

“Well we can go to bed after your surprise.” His head shot up at my words. I love him.

“I totally forgot about the surprise.” He said as he got off of me and pulled me up off the couch.

“Its in the room.” I spoke as I started walking in the direction to our bedroom. He followed, hot on my heels the entire way. I walked over to my side of the bed and got a small box that used to hold a bracelet I got for him. I handed it to him with a smile rising on my lips again.

“This is the same box that my bracelet was in that you got me for my birthday?” He said kind of confused.

“I just looked for a box, baby.” I said smile never leaving my face.

I watched his face closely as he opened it. Once he took in what was in front of him he looked up at me with a big smile on his face and a gorgeous sparkle in his eyes.

“Y-you’re pregnant?” He stuttered. He stared directly in my eyes as I nodded.

He threw the box on the bed and wrapped his arms around me and lifted me up. I was thrown in a giggling mess when he started spinning. He eventually stopped so we didn’t get to dizzy and he put my down but his hands traveled up to my face and kissed my repeatedly.

“Oh my god. You’re actually pregnant! Baby! YOU ARE PREGNANT!” He shouted with excitement. He was so fucking cute.

“I know! I know!” I squealed.

“We’ve been trying for what felt like forever and now its actually happening! You’re pregnant. Our baby is in there.” He said pointing at my stomach. I nodded again. He bent down and kissed my belly before speaking.

“Hi baby. I don’t know what you are you yet but I’m your daddy. I already love you so so so much.” He continued to ramble talking to the baby in my tummy.

Our family was just getting started. And I couldn’t be any happier than right now.

*Two years later*

Two years ago, Braxton Raul Mendes made his entrance into the world. I wasn’t surprised at how much Braxton looked like Shawn. It honestly made me adore him even more.

It was his 2nd birthday today so we had rented a water slide for kids. His theme was a Finding Nemo because that was just what he requested because he love that move. We even has a fish named Nemo.

“Braxy, you wanna go down the slide?” I asked him. Braxton giggled as he nodded. I started to make my way to him but I stopped as he got lifted up by his daddy and went to the slide with him.

“Mommy look!” Braxton yelled. I watched as Shawn somehow managed to fit his big figure in the little slide. As they went down it was a mixture of laughs coming from Shawn and Braxton.

“My boys are so adorable.” I cooed taking a picture of the two of them smiling and having fun.

Shawn stepped out of the little pool at the end of the slide and let Braxton go run and play with all of his friends. But instead as he stepped out he felt his sons hands wrap around his leg.

“Again, Again!” Braxton yelled. Of course Shawn obliged to his little boys needs. Shawn lifted him up and took him down the slide again. I watched as they did it a few more times while I talked to all of my other mom friends.

I got caught up in a conversation with them until Shawn walked over to me holding Braxtom in his arms. His head was rested on Shawn’s shoulder, face tucked into his neck.

“Someone’s tired.” Shawn whispered trying not to disturb his sleeping boy in his arms. I nodded with a smile and watched as Shawn started to walk away.

“I’ll be back.” Shawn spoke up as he walked into the house to put Braxton down for his nap. I got back into a conversation with my friends and Karen joined in.

Shawn came back out and wrapped his arm around my waist from behind.

“I love you.” He whispered in my ear, kissing my neck softly.

“I love you too babe.” I replied as I turned around in his embrace to face him.

“You know what else I love?” He said smiling.

“What?”

“I love our little family.”

“Me too.” I replied a smile rising on my face. I meant that too. I really did love out family. And I was excited to see it grow.

Everything happened so fast. I found out I was pregnant. I went to my first three doctors appointments. I even started picking out baby names with Karen, Aaliyah, and Shawn.

That was until everything came crashing down. I woke up in the middle of the night with horrible stomach pains. And when I stood up I saw blood on the bed. Shawn and I rushed to the hospital and the doctor informed me that I was suffering a miscarriage.

Shawn was in the bed holding me as we both just cried together. The tears just kept coming. My whole heart was empty and broken. It felt like my whole world was ripped away from me in a second.

“You’re ready to leave now, Mrs. Mendes.” The doctor said as he handed Shawn the release papers and then walked out.

Shawn got off the bed and offered me a hand to hold but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Shawn instantly caught onto that and he lifted my off the bed and carried me out to the car.

The ride home was silent. Shawn had his hand planted on my leg rubbing it gently with his thumb the whole way. He didn’t fully understand what she was feeling but he knew her well enough to know she was hurting.

Thank god Braxton was with Aaliyah because honestly I didn’t want him to see me like this. He was such a mommy’s boy. And anytime I was upset he broke down into tears. It was so bad.

When we arrived home, Shawn came to the passenger side of his jeep and he got me out of the car and carried me inside the house. He put me down on the couch and went into our bedroom to change the sheets around.

While he was in the it was almost like a whole new wave of emotions struck me and I broke all over again. Shawn heard me almost instantly and came running to me. He was by my side and his arms were around me almost instantly.

“It just wasn’t time, angel. We have so much more time to try again.” Shawn whispered, almost like he was afraid to speak.

“I love you.” I managed to get out as I curled myself into his embrace and continued to sob into his chest.

“I love you too, babygirl.” He said kissing the top of head.

I know he didn’t quite understand what I was feeling in this moment but he had to be in so much pain too. Yet here he was holding me while I cried. My heart almost broke at the thought of that.

I picked my head up and looked at his face and took in everything. I studied it but his expression was almost unreadable. All I could see was the pain in his eyes.

“Baby..” I whispered as I saw his eyes tear up when they met mine.

“Its okay, angel. I’m okay. Life just decided that it wasn’t our time.” He said with tears falling from his eyes. I don’t understand how he’s being so strong right now. My hands held his face and I kissed him.

This kiss felt so different from the rest. It held so much emotion and desire in it. I pulled away and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“We are gonna get through this together.” I mumbled softly. He nodded and kissed me again.

My heart was so empty and so broken but I had everything I have and will ever need in life in front me in that moment. And that gave me so much hope.

Panic set through my veins. Multiple doctors were asking me multiple questions at once. It was so overwhelming. And considering Shawn wasn’t here I was even more on edge.

Shawn had a big important meeting this morning and I knew he couldn’t cancel it. So I have Karen here with me until Shawn can get here.

I’m at a fertility doctor. A while after the miscarriage, I’ve been having pains everywhere, I felt tired constantly, weak, and just so much more. Shawn and I decided that the safest route to take wa to get everything checked out. We didn’t want to risk anything.

After so many tests and so many questions, the doctor came in.

“Mrs. Mendes. We have your test results back,” She paused and I nodded slowly.

“I don’t know how to put this, you have fibroids and with your consent, we would like to take you into operation to remove it. But it would mean that you will not be able to get pregnant in the future.” She explained. I felt everything come crashing down again. How was I supposed to tell Shawn?

“Will it cause me any harm if I don’t agree?” I asked with tears flooding my eyes. Karen grabbed my hand and squeezed it gently.

“Its a tumor sitting of your uterus wall, Mrs. Mendes, Its honestly hard to say.” She admitted to me. I couldn’t think straight. I need Shawn. I need him right now. I can’t go through this without him.

Karen somehow got me to calm down and helped me with everything. Shawn met us at the hospital where I was going to have my procedure done. He held my hand the whole way and reassured me that everything was going to be okay.

Some time after my surgery. I was at home in bed and Shawn was there with me. Karen took Braxton for the weekend to give us some time to cope.

I had been doing well but today had me really down. Shawn was laying beside me and I just broke into tears.

“Angel? What’s wrong? Talk to me.” He spoke up immediately panicking that something was going wrong with me.

“I can’t give you anymore kids. I can’t give you your little girl. I’m so sorry.” I broke out in between sobs. Shawn instantly pulled me up onto his laps carefully and held me close. Shawn knew that already. He already had the idea that they could adopt. He was already planning out what the future would be like from here. But he also knew that I was in a different mindset than he was.

“Angel. Look at me,” He said as he looked me in the eyes.

“Another baby or not. I will love you until the day I die. Do you hear me? Until the day comes that I stop breathing I will continue to love you. I will always be here for you. Always. Don’t ever doubt that. You and Brax are all I need in life.” He explained. I nodded not having any words.

My lips met his and I knew that my life was complete. Broken or not, I was complete. And I couldn’t have wished for anything more in life.

*A year later*

Its just Shawn, me, and Braxton. We decided to just let it be us. We didn’t want to expand or anything. We just left it as it was because this was really all we needed. Braxton was now 4 almost 5 and he was really getting so big. He’s slowly becoming more of a daddy’s boy and Shawn loves it.

I was happier than ever with what I had in life. For a long time I was sad and broken. I was so empty. But Shawn kept me going. He helped me get through that time. He helped me where I am now. I couldn’t have done it without him.

Shawn’s family was a big help too. They took Braxton all the time. Manny was his best friend. Braxton adored him. I couldn’t have gotten through that time without them either.

But at the end of every day. Shawn and Braxton were my main focus. They were my world. I didn’t wanna ever live a life without them.

I couldn’t have wished for anything more in life at this moment. I had everything I could have ever needed right now.

“I love you Shawn. And I love you Braxy.” I said watching both of my boys playing in the backyard.

“I love you more, mommy!” Braxton yelled running around giggling to get away from Shawn.

“Yeah! I love you most, mommy!” Shawn said catching Braxton in his arms and ticking him until he was a giggling mess.

Watching the two of the made my love grow even more. I had everything I have ever wanted. A loving husband and little boy.

My life was actually complete.

THE END

(A/N: AHHHHHH!!! i cannot believe it’s finished. i’m actually kinda sad that its over🥺 but frfr i’m so happy with how this whole thing turned out. all of the feedback had my literally crying from happiness. but i need you all to let me know if i should continue writing things like this or if i should go back to the little blurbs? let me know!! and remember feedback is highly appreciated!❤️)

taglist: @shawn-youth @ashwarren32 @meatte @green-lxght @shawnmendes048 @sixwyrxstuff @mendesficsxbombay @weirdowithnobeardo @lilya-petrichor

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes x y/n #shawnpeterraulmendes #mendes #shawn #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagine #ceo! shawn #mr. ceo

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themagicalmysticalboy · 4 years

Photo

request: hello :) what about some hurt!John based on this photo but around 1965-66? It may be because of drugs overdosing, not eating enough after that Fat beatle comment, some illness, or anything else you want :) it can be mclennon but it doesnt have to be :) with worried and protective boys, Brian and crew.

a/n: the 1965-66 bit made me think of the “bigger than Jesus” scandal. So here we are.

pairing: no actually, just good friends

summary: The Beatles are on lockdown after John’s Jesus comment. In his intoxicated state, John thinks it's a great idea to sneak out of the hotel for a walk and a smoke.

warnings: hurt!John, violence

time period: 1966

word count: 2,000+

The whole thing had been overblown, in John’s opinion. Americans were too sensitive about their religion and the American media was ready to twist his words- anything to stir up drama. This left the whole touring situation at a standstill until he apologized.

Apologizing had been awful but nothing was as awful as the talk with Tony and Brian. That made him see straight, alright. Traumatized him in the process.

Even after apologizing and seeing things settle down, the group was still on lockdown as they toured. It was much worse than the usual “now, stay shut up in the hotel or you’ll draw a crowd.” Brian was frightened of the American peoples' reaction. So, the band was cooped up in hotels with only each other for company. Not the worst situation, John had to admit, but he craved to have the option to leave for once.

John had let the fuss over them slide for quite some time but it was getting to be a drag. He wanted to stretch his legs.

Maybe if he wore a disguise he’d get by. He giggled at the thought through a haze of smoke as Ringo passed him the blunt. He pressed the tip to his lips and made to roll the dice. He moved his little metal game piece before handing the blunt and dice to Paul.

The four of them sat around on the floor of George’s hotel room, a game of Monopoly before them. Most of the money had stacked at Ringo’s feet, as John was too busy pondering escape to actual play. Paul had the least money left and the least clothes on. He had discarded his socks and shoes after the first blunt was finished. Beginning the second, he had lost his shirt as well.

“This ain’t strip poker,” George said, falling back onto the plush rug.

“If it were, he’d be naked already,” Ringo mused as John took more money from Paul’s pile.

“Could play that instead. Be more fun.” Paul yawned, passing blunt and dice to a still floor-bound George.

George threw the dice onto his stomach and tried to read the number without moving them. “Five spaces, daft git,” John said as he rose to his feet. The others looked up, asking with their eyes rather than words. “Getting me ciggies from my room. Then I’ll destroy you all in the last half of this.” He gestured to the board before dramatically turning for the door.

The high really hit him when he was upright and walking. The world was magnified in his eyes, pushing closer and further like the ocean's waves as he left the room. He traversed into the empty hallway and crossed to his room in a fit of giggles. It was in his mind to go back and finish the game but the craving for the late-night city air in his lungs was stronger.

His cigarettes sat on the small table by the door but he passed them by and rummaged through his clothes. He pulled out a baseball cap and one of Paul’s long jackets he’d stolen ages ago. Good enough.

He popped the collar of his jacket and threw on his glasses for good measure, pocketing his cigarettes before slipping out into the hall. He knew a guard was stationed in the lift but maybe not the stairwell. He crept to the end of the hall and slid open the emergency exit door. The stairwell seemed very empty. With a shrug and triumphant grin, he descended the steps.

As he reached the lower levels of the building, something nagged at the back of his head about not going out through the lobby. He couldn’t remember why but decided to trust his instinct. Once at the bottom, he turned to the alley door without a second thought.

Some kind of pressure released from his chest as the wind whipped around him and the loud clatter from city life filled his ears. He could breathe properly for once.

He pulled his ball cap low over his face and lit up a cigarette, walking to the mouth of the alley. As he neared the city streets, a battle of shouts and cheers raged more clearly. He peeked around the corner to see two groups outside the lobby. It was easy to tell them apart by the signs they held. The side closest to John had signs reading “Jesus Will Forgive But I Won’t” and “Jesus IS Bigger Than The Beatles”. The group a bit further down had much more normal signs that read things like “I Love You JOHN” “I Love The Beatles” and ones with all the boys' names surrounded by hearts. A showdown between the angry Christians and the Beatle People. Brian telling him of this scene raging outside the lobby doors suddenly reappeared in his memories.

John couldn’t stop from laughing aloud before turning back down the alley. That was more trouble than it was worth. He went back to the emergency exit door and pulled drags from his cig, watching as the crowd slowly dispersed. People walked by the alleyway without a glance in his direction.

He leaned his head against the rough brick wall, searching the sky for any stars. It seemed the lights of the city were hiding them all away. That was disappointing.

“Got a light, buddy?”

John jumped at the unfamiliar voice. His head snapped back down to earth and his hat fumbled to the ground. In front of him stood two men a bit older than him. The taller of the two had a cigarette between his fingers. Collecting himself, he tossed his cigarette to the side and gave a smile. They didn’t seem to recognize who he was.

“Sure.” He grabbed a small white lighter from his pocket.

He pulled himself off the wall and a street lights glow crept over his face. The shorter man grabbed his friend's shoulder. Something like a mix of recognition and anger twisted both men’s features. John stood his ground, still smiling.

“You still want a light, mate?”

“Your accent- You’re John Lennon, right? Or one of those other Bug Brits.” The man spat the words, looking him over in disgust and tossing the unlit cigarette to the side.

“The lights out of the question, I see.” He looked between the two men. “Guess I’ll be going in, then. Quite late and all.” John took a step backward.

The taller bloke grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. “You think you’re better than God?”

John laughed without a hint of the fear he felt peaking through, “I mean-“

The shorter man came to his side. “Probably think he is God.”

John raised his hands in surrender, shrugging the tall bloke's hand off in the process. “Look, lads, I apologized for all that misunderstanding.” Neither man looked convinced. “Not bright enough to read the papers?”

The blow struck him in the stomach before he could register it coming. He was knocked back into the wall, his focus on the taller lad as he drew his own fist back. John lurched forward, getting in a blow to the bloke's jaw before the shorter one got a hold of him. The bloke wrapped his arms under John’s, clasping his hands together behind John’s head.

John’s arms were forced out to the side. He strained against the hold as the taller man rubbed his jaw, ready to hit again.

The facade of smiles dropped as he struggled to escape. “Wait-wait-hold- !“

With a twisted smirk, the bloke pulled his arm back, giving a full swing into John’s stomach. He let out a loud groan, straining to buckle over against the human restraint.

Another blow to the stomach and another.

John finally cried out as the man's fist drove into his side. It was a hit that required the man to bend down just enough for John to quickly bring up his feet for a kick to the face. The pain from the awkward restraint erupted through his back but his shoes had found their mark.

The bloke stumbled back, falling flat on his ass. The man holding John suddenly released him and he fell too. The pain in his stomach was crippling. He coughed as stomach acid stung the back of his throat, one palm flat on the damp concrete, the other wrapped around his stomach.

A kick landed square to the side of his face, the metal of his glasses digging into his skin, stinging at his nose. He toppled to the side, the world falling into a daze. Another kick struck his chest and another into his stomach. He curled as tightly into a ball as he could, his eyes squeezed shut. His head was reeling and he couldn’t get in a second to recover. The kicks only stopped coming as he heard a door slam open.

“Wha- Stop it! Stop!” A familiar voice rung out. “John!”

“Get the fuck off him!” And another. “I’ll cripple ya!” There was a general shuffling of feet around his head.

“Get Brian out here!” And another.

“Johnny! John, come on…” A hand moved the hair from his eyes and rolled him on his back. But he couldn’t manage to force his eyes open.

“Wake up, son.”

Someone was tugging at him until his head was no longer resting on concrete. He stirred, his eyes opening to see Paul and Ringo knelt over him. Paul’s eyes were darting up and down John’s body, his thumb rubbing at John’s cheek. John realized Paul had brought him up into his lap.

Ringo’s full attention was on John's face, smiling down at him with relief glittering in his eyes. “Not looking too well, mate.”

John lifted his hand up to Paul. He grabbed the lads open jacket, hardly noticing there was no shirt underneath it. “I think I was winning, wasn’t I?” He tried to smile but winced at a sudden spark of pain in his face and ribs. A metallic taste coated his mouth and he coughed.

Paul smiled with sad eyes, “Yeah. Could’ve destroyed them in the last half.”

George ran up behind the lot of them, panting like mad as he knelt over John. “You’re mad, you know? Absolutely.” He took in a deep breath. “That one bloke was huge.”

“Seems they weren’t that opposing if you could chase ‘em off.” John groaned, trying to sit up. Paul supported his back to help him as the door beside them came crashing open.

“John. Good, God!” Brian rushed out, his trench coat trailing behind. He knelt down, patting over John as if to make sure he was all there. “What happened? Can you stand? Do I need to call for an ambulance?” His eyes were wet with tears, his hair and clothes disheveled.

John wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, coming away with a bloodstained sleeve and hand. He groaned, pulling himself to his feet with much of Ringo’s assistance. “Later, yes, no.” His face twisted in pain, clutching at his stomach. “In that order.” He gave a curt nod, throwing his arm over Ringo’s shoulder.

It was an ordeal to walk back to the room but at least he could take the lift up. Paul had volunteered to help John get changed and settled into bed. It was a slow affair. With many stops for Paul to curse him for his stupidity before grabbing at him to hug or fuss over.

“They could’ve killed you, y’know? Then what?” Paul was shaking his head and biting his lip as John slowly got into bed, propped up against the headboard.

John rolled his eyes. “Then I’d be dead, Macca. But I’m no-.”

Paul crossed his arms. “Then you’d be dead and we’d be here! Without you...” He looked almost angry. “You do realize that- Nevermind.” Paul huffed and pulled the covers up over John, swallowing back a lump in his throat.

John was too frightened of what he lacked realization of to question Paul further.

After a while, the others trickled into the room one by one until they were all around John’s bed. Brian stood at the foot of the bed, looking sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry, boys- John. I should have looked out for you better.” Brian looked at each boy as he said this, eye glistening.

All four of the boys looked absolutely shocked by this, with a choir of what’s and no’s all around. But John took the lead. “Brian, I’m the one who snuck out. You did grand. Security was grand. It’s on me.”

“Anything that happens to you, any of you, is on me as well.” He straightened his back, taking in a deep breath. “I should have accounted for your disobedient tendencies.”

“No, John’s just daft,” George remarked. John gave an incredulous look but let it slide. “Don’t go putting this on yourself. You can’t see the future.”

Brian shook his head, “This isn’t about me, though, is it?” He pulled up a smile but it quickly fell to a frown. “What happened to get you in that fight?”

The attention turned back on John. He could see the pain still lingering in Brian’s face as he recounted the events of the night. He felt so stupid for going out like he did. Not even telling anyone. He put everyone through the wringer just for a smoke in a dirty alley.

With his explanation through, he was met with flustered criticism. It was all cut off by a knock at the door.

“Ah,” all eyes went to Brian. “That would be the police. Here for your statement.”

John straightened too quickly, grabbing at his sore stomach. “I’m not talking to no fucking cops.” He moved out of the bed, suddenly feeling like he was being far too babied.

“Say it loud enough for ‘em to hear, why don’t you,” George chided.

Brian’s brow furrowed, seeming confused by the aversion. “You have to talk to them so they can catch the men who attacked you.”

“Was a stupid fight in an alley. Nothing life or death.” He looked to the boys for support but no one was talking. “Paul, we were in worse fights in Liverpool. Tell Bri it’s nothing to get the cops for.”

Paul’s eyes danced around the room. “He ain’t wrong. He’s been worse off after a fight.”

“Can’t say that that makes it all gear and fab, can we?”

“That’s not even-“

There was an outbreak of arguing over semantics that John wasn’t having. In the chaos, Brian went to get the door, unnoticed by the others. He ushered in a police officer and everyone quieted. John leaned against the side of the bed, his face set in a stone of frustration. He just wanted them all to leave him be.

He eyed the police officer. “No autographs today, sorry.”

“John, just tell the man what happened.” Brian’s voice was desperate and exhausted.

The look in Brian’s teary eyes in the alley flashed in John’s mind. The look on all their faces, really. The amount they all cared made John unreasonably frustrated. He didn’t feel he deserved it. They shouldn’t care about him as much as they do. But they do and that's that. They care and he cares about them.

He ran a hand down his face. Being considerate was tiring. “Get out then.” He looked around at his friends. “You all’ve already heard it. Wouldn’t want to bore you with a second round.”

#John Lennon #paul mccartney #George Harrison #Ringo Starr #Brian Epstein #the beatles #the beatles one shot #the beatles fanfiction #ask request #fab four #submission

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freddie-mercurial · 4 years

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Brian and his mum know about last Christmas with bread souce. She tells her son to invite his friends this year. The evening is ending with Freddie sleeping in Brian's room in one bed👀

this accidentally became nearly 2k words because i just love this era and i LOVE bed sharing thank you anon i’ve been thinking about this prompt literally all day 😍

“Come in, come on in!” Ruth May calls as she ushers three would-be rockstars into her house, grinning from beneath her jaunty Christmas hat. “Plenty of room, lovely to see you, darling,” she adds quickly as Brian crosses the threshold, leaning up to kiss his cheek as he grins with a cheery, ‘Happy Christmas, Mum!’, weighed down with several bags.

“Where’s the other one—John?” she asks, looking between Brian, Freddie, and Roger as though the fourth is hidden somewhere amongst them.

“Oh, he went home to his parents this year, Mum,” Brian tells her, loitering in the hallway as she shuts the door behind them. “I told you on the phone.”

“I must’ve forgotten,” Ruth says, waving a hand. “I’ve set the spare room up, it’s only a single in there but we have plenty of blankets, I’m sure Brian will sleep down here on the sofa—”

“No it’s alright, Mum,” Brian says quickly, shifting a bag on his shoulder and making a beeline for the stairs. “Freddie can share with me. Rog, you can have the spare room. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Freddie doesn’t need to be shown, having visited a few times before, but he and Roger traipse upstairs after him after chorusing hello’s and Happy Christmas’s and thank-you-so-much-for-letting-us-stay’s at Brian’s mum.

Brian points Roger into the spare room and he immediately flops on the bed while Brian and Freddie carry on down the corridor and Brian makes Freddie wait outside for a minute while he checks how tidy it is.

“Bri,” Freddie laughs, trying to jostle him out of the way. “I live with you, I’m not going to cry if I see a dirty cup on the windowsill.”

“You might if you see my pants all over the floor,” Brian retorts, flushing a bit before pushing the door wide, deeming it safe. “It’s alright, I think Mum’s been in. You, uh...don’t mind sharing, do you? I can take the sofa if you want, I don’t mind.”

Freddie frowns at him. “Of course I don’t mind! Don’t sleep on the sofa, that’ll be awful. Unless...unless you want to. I can sleep down there, of course! It’s your room!”

“No,” Brian says quickly, grinning shyly. “No, I don’t mind.” He can’t stop grinning, absurdly excited by the thought of sharing his room with Freddie, a secret, untouched thought just starting to uncurl in the back of his mind—he only has a single bed in here. They might share it. Maybe. Brian has to not think about it because it makes his stomach tie itself up and he can feel a flush creeping up his neck, he has to distract himself.

He wants to show Freddie some of the records he got last time he was home that he couldn’t fit to take back to the flat but he knows his mum will probably want a hand with dinner and his dad’ll be home soon.

Roger appears, anyway, knocking on the door instead of bursting through like he normally might. “You guys decent?” he asks.

Freddie makes a face. “Why wouldn’t we be decent, you moron?”

Brian can’t reply for a second, his mind cheerfully imagining all the ways they might not have been decent and he’s sure he’s red as a fucking Santa hat by the time Roger actually pokes his head around the door, looking vaguely suspicious.

“Well, you just never know with you two,” he says, relaxing when he sees them stood safely apart.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Freddie asks, but Brian just shuffles him out of the room, not particularly wanting to let Roger open that door.

Brian loves his parents, he really does, of course he does. He doesn’t see them as often as he should and he makes silent vows to himself and verbal promises to his mum that this year he’ll be better at popping by. And he means it. But he still finds himself wishing the evening away to a time when it’s reasonable to excuse themselves to be.

It’s Christmas Eve so it’s bound to be a late one but they’ve had a very rousing round of Monopoly (during which Freddie embarrassed himself by getting a little over-competitive and having a little strop before he remembered that he was with Brian’s parents) and an argumentative game of Scrabble which cheered Freddie up immensely as he wiped the floor with the rest of them.

They’ve all had a few drinks and some mince pies and even a bit of dancing when Brian’s dad put the record player on. Freddie hadn’t wasted a moment pulling Ruth up to dance around the living room with him, making her blush as he kissed her on the cheek and told her she was better on her feet than any girl in London.

He yanks Roger up next and there’s no other excuse for the nasty jealousy that pools in Brian’s stomach when he sees them. He’s going to have to face up to it soon but as soon as he does he knows there’s no turning back. As long as it’s nameless, it’s harmless. But it won’t stay that way for much longer.

Especially not when Freddie shoves Roger back toward the sofa before the song’s even finished and bounds over to Brian instead, flushed and happy and hopeful. “Dance with me?”

The record fades into a slower song next and Brian takes Freddie’s hand, laughing like it’s all a joke for the benefit of his father, who doesn’t seem to mind but just in case, but when he looks at Freddie his face is entirely serious, if smiling.

He can’t dance like Freddie but it’s easier when it’s slow. They clumsily waltz around the room for a bit, turning circles around the coffee table and the extra chairs, and Brian twirls Freddie under his arm so perfectly it’s like they’ve practised it. Freddie’s practically glowing by the time the song finishes and Brian’s heart’s a mess. He wants to go upstairs and—and—

He’s not really sure what but the thought of whatever it is excites him. Like there’s an opportunity here, some strange potential he’s never truly felt before, like tonight exists in a bubble and they could do anything and it makes Brian feel brave.

Ruth makes her excuses first because she has to be up early tomorrow to start cooking, which the boys all promise to help with, so she gives all of them—even Freddie and Roger—a kiss goodnight and makes her way to bed.

Brian waits barely two minutes before he stands up as well, stretching and yawning. “Think I’m gonna head to bed, too,” he announces. “Freddie, do you want me to leave the light on for you?”

“Oh, I’ll come with you, darling,” Freddie says, getting up, which is exactly what Brian hoped would happen.

Roger waves them both off, dealing new cards for the game he and Harold have been playing together for the past twenty minutes, and Brian and Freddie head upstairs to brush their teeth.

They keep catching eyes in the mirror and Brian keeps grinning, blushing, and it’s ridiculous because he’s only had a few drinks but it’s all very heady. He doesn’t even know what it is, just something between him and Freddie, some strange thing that keeps making them giggle and accidentally brush hands and shoulders and somehow makes it okay for Brian to look at Freddie’s mouth every few seconds.

Brian doesn’t even feel any hesitation when he steps into his room and strips out of his shirt, thankful for the beer’s he’s had because without them he’d be dithering over what pajamas to wear. There’s none of that, though; he strips down to his briefs and clambers into bed without a trace of self-consciousness, grinning at Freddie where he’s loitering in the middle of the room.

“Should I get some blankets?” he asks, glancing around for some.

“Nah,” Brian says, flipping the cover back. There’s not much of the mattress that isn’t taken up by his own body, but truth be told that’s the point. “Get in.”

Freddie hovers for a moment, staring at Brian, his lip between his teeth, before he carefully shuts the door and undresses down to his t-shirt and pants. Brian wishes he’d have taken his shirt off as well but it’d be creepy to say so he’s silent as he wriggles over to give Freddie a tiny bit of room. There really isn’t much of it; they’re pressed together shoulder to hip to ankle and Freddie snorts suddenly, overcome with giggles.

“This is cosy,” he says, trying to get comfortable.

“Face me,” Brian whispers, turning on his side. “There’ll be more room.”

He can see Freddie swallow before he does so, rolling onto his side and gazing shyly at Brian. There’s something, definitely something. Like he can feel all the air between their mouths and how easy it would be to lean right through it so their lips would touch.

“Is this okay?” Brian murmurs.

Freddie nods.

The air between them is too warm, their breath combining, and Brian shifts a tiny bit more so their mouths are a tiny bit closer together. Too close, closer than friends ever put their mouths. Close enough to notice, close enough that Freddie should pull away and hasn’t and Brian’s filled up with it.

Freddie’s just watching him, waiting, and they both know what Brian’s going to do for several long seconds before he does it.

Leans in, and kisses him.

Freddie sighs, like it’s exactly what he’s been waiting for, and presses even closer to Brian, holding onto him. “Oh,” he says softly, wondrously, when they pull apart. “You kissed me.”

Brian grins and does it again. “Yeah,” he agrees. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing or where he’s trying to lead this but just lying here kissing Freddie makes sense and he can’t think of a more perfect way to spend his night. “Do you mind?”

Freddie shakes his head, grinning madly.

“I knew it would be a slow song earlier,” he confesses suddenly, breathily, when Brian lets up off his mouth for a moment. “I looked at the album sleeve. I wanted to dance with you for it.”

Brian pauses, taking a moment to absorb the sheer joy the idea of that gives him, and wraps an arm around his back to pull him as tight against him as he could possibly be without injury. “I wanted to share with you,” he confesses in turn. “I wanted to do this.”

They kiss again until Brian has to stop and press their foreheads together, physically unable to stop smiling which makes it a bit difficult to kiss.

“We should probably go to sleep,” Freddie whispers, not sounding tired at all.

“Yeah,” Brian agrees, not making any move to do that and kissing him again instead. “In a minute.”

#replies #prompts #maycury #frian #queen #i just ploughed through this and haven't re-read at all so sorry for any glaring typos orword mix-ups #i'll try to re-read tomorrow morning and edit anything horrendous

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parkeraul · 5 years

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pull me in — 1

a/n: i wanted to insist on grease!shawn and if you like it, i’ll publish the other parts. not sure it’s gonna be longer than 5 chapters, but hands up: badboy!shawn ahead. warnings: cursing, mentions of hook ups. words: 3,7k

She doesn’t know how many hours she spent awake instead of going immediately to bed after a long day. That was typical of her to avoid resting in order to sit down in front of her mirror and brush her hair, strand by strand, to let the thick light-brown locks be correctly fixed even though no one’s going to see her in her sleep. Also, she always had this compulsive manner of rolling her bangs into that big & pink hair curler her grandmother gave to her a few years ago for her birthday — because OH-MY-GOD a lady should always be prepared to every situation, no matter the time; you HAVE to look good. Who knows if the love of your life isn’t coming for you at anytime? It’s hard to deny that her grandma does have a point and, to be honest, there’s nothing else in the world that she loves more than spending time alone to take care of herself. People at school call her preppy and it would be a lie if she said she doesn’t agree [or isn’t kinda proud of].

At the moment she feels her eyes heaving and her body giving into the softness of the blankets and mattress, the glass of her window pulls her out of her serenity with a loud bang. She huffs and turns around, thinking it’s just the rain getting thicker and shooting ice stones all over the neighbourhood.

Another loud bang.

Snapping her eyes open, she breathes deeply to keep her patience centered. Since she was a little kid, patience was never her strong characteristic and everyone who knows her barely well can confirm this. There was never a possible second option, there was never a plan B — if she wants something, she’s gonna get it and good luck to the one who dares stepping into her way, because it’s certain that it’ll be the beginning of World War III.

Just when she thinks about grabbing another pillow to cover her ear, comes one more crash with more rocks at the same time.

The sound of the thin rain outside can’t ease her nerves like it always does; the cozy bedroom and the warm temperature of her covers can’t stop her from growling furiously like an angry little puppy while she sits down on her bed to remove the hair curler and toss it away, her grandmother’s voice annoying the inside of her mind with those classic words “You never show up to a guy without at least a decent hair” and God she never knew she’d hate the sweet but shaky tone of that voice so much. Getting up on her feet after pulling away the white fluffy covers, she grabs her curtains with all the rage she’s feeling to drag it across the window. Her face is scrunched in all possible ways, the cheeks turning into a dark shade of pink while the short hairs of her bangs are trying to come down back to her forehead. Holding onto the wooden base of her window, she moves it up and finds the reason to all the crashes against the glass. “What the fuck you think you doing?” She tries to scream and be low at the same time, spitting her words through gritted teeth at Shawn down in the middle of the street, holding two rocks in each one of his hands as the raindrops slips along his leather jacket. "Open up, Lyssa,” He yells back, dropping the stones to bring his palms to the sides of his mouth like she can’t listen to him being loud enough already to wake up her family. “You know you want to!” “First of all, asshole,” Inching her body closer to the lower edge of her window, she sets her head a little bit to the outside so she won’t need to yell. “From now on, for you only, it’s Alyssa Stempford,” Shawn rolls his eyes so intensely that Alyssa can get the sight of them going to the back of his head from where she’s standing on the second roof of her house. He crosses his arms, holding back that stupid smirk she doesn’t know if she loves or hates so much. “You done?” Shawn asks sarcastically, earning a roll of eyes from her too. “Second of all,” She prompts right after, tugging a strand of her hair behind her ear. “If it depends on me, you’ll putrefy outside while the rain makes the job of melting your body little by little.” Her frantic words are making her head tilt quickly as she speaks, those charming bangs that Shawn loves so much shaking lightly as she pulls back to pin her window down again. “Alyssa—“ “Good. Night.” The window slams shut after she pronounces her words in a paused rhythm, leaving the curly-haired boy still left in the wet asphalt with his white tank top getting soaked and he’s sure he’s gonna get a cold but whatever, something about Alyssa makes him crave her even in her angriest form — it’s sure a challenge for him and the tougher it is, the more he wants.

She’s back in bed, giving no fucks about curling her bangs again while the two heavy blankets cover her body again. Would she start crying? Never in Shawn’s wildest dreams. No ma’am. He can go on and call her heartless like he did once or twice, she’ll proudly wear it out and even wait for a trophy if you may, with golden-bright letters across it saying “Alyssa Stempford, the coldest bitch in Canada. Pickering, 1958.”

She has no time to facepalm and rub her face to vanish the stress away, the knocks are back along with his smooth voice she never admitted she loves hearing.

“Lyssa!” The sound of his tone is muffled by the closed window, as the rocks keep on hitting the glass repeatedly and he starts to reach notes like he’s performing a romantic serenade for everyone to listen how fucked he is for Alyssa. “Oh, Lyssa, don’t you go breaking my poor little heart…” Seriously? She growls again, leaving her bed one more time to open her wardrobe feverishly in search of any extra pillows to cover her ear because the truth is that she doesn’t wanna fall for him and his stupid ways to compel her. She’s tired of letting him think he’s in control when he’s actually just being the fuckboy everyone told her he is. There is a sudden silence that drags her to the moments when she first saw him jumping off his huge motorcycle, catching everyone’s eyes as he released those smooth curls from the helmet and got up, fixing his outfit and running a hand through the messy locks. She’s sure her jaw was threatening to fall down like it did when he started chatting with the people surrounding him, acting like a fairytale prince towards all the girls and making the boys jealous of his intimidating posture. Alyssa was fresh new in Canada, coming from one of the various countries she’d lived in due to her father’s job but finally landing somewhere she wouldn’t struggle so much with the language or ambient. And it would be so much easier with that broad boy, handsome as ever, sun cascading over his defined features and reddening his cheeks—

“Oooooh, Lyssa! You’re tearing me apart, baby, yeah…”

She’s so nervous that she wants to laugh desperately. Her fingers are curling to the inside of her hand, red nails punishing the skin like they’re about to rip it open and she stands on her feet for the millionth time that day — dramatic addition just like classic Alyssa does — and she doesn’t care to close the wardrobe door, going straight to the front of her window to open it, hopefully, for the last time that night.

“Shut the fuck up?!”

He grins quietly, staring up at the most beautiful girl in his humble opinion.

“I just wanna be with you, ooh with you,”

“I swear to Lucifer!”

“Stop screaming, darlin’, and kiss me instead…”

“I’ll fuck the shit out of you.”

“I’ll let you do anything, babygirl…” He clears his throat, smirking devilishly and thinking about the best rhyme he can do to get her weakening. “If you let me splay you… All over my bed—“

“Shhhhh!” Alyssa hisses urgently. If her father ever listens to this, it’s a fact that both Shawn and her are going to drop dead the next morning. “What do you want after all?” His boyish smile seems to grow more and more, remembering about those days where they were making out so passionately in his bedroom. And in the back of the school’s building. And inside the diner’s restroom. And Brian’s house at the living room. Oh, and inside his dad’s car. There was also that time after French class after everyone was gone and the teacher left to look for the keys to the classroom’s door. The couch of his basement. The library. The parking lot after Elvis Presley’s concert. The backyard under the sunlight; the field next to the lake when they went out for a picnic; the movies; the garage of her house in the middle of the night; the locker room of the hockey team—.

“You didn’t give me a chance to talk to you today,” He says, theatrically pouting and feeling his poor little heart ache. There’s not a single second away from her that doesn’t punch him in the chest. “Mm? What do you say?” “You really think I’m talking to you after what I saw on tuesday?” “I was looking forward to this,” What a cocky piece of shit. “See? You read my mind, Lyssa,” Shawn bites on his lip to hold back a laugh and spread his hand open in front of him, like he’s coming out defeated by a bigger force. “Sorry, Alyssa Stempford.”

He’s ridiculous. That’s what she thinks. How can a boy be so beautifully annoying?

“Where do you think you’re going?” Alyssa interrupts his steps towards the front door, his frame nearly disappearing under her roof. “Gonna see if you finally remembered about using your keys this time.” Shawn managed to break into her house silently sometimes, unable to stay away from her cuddles and being surprisingly successful on not getting caught by her parents, tiptoeing upstairs in a way Alyssa would never understand — considering that he loves being pretty loud when he’s next to her, just to catch her attention and make her laugh so his chest and stomach would get all of those butterflies filling him up with love. “Uh-uh,” She clicks her tongue in denial after humming. “You stay right there, you’re not coming inside.” “But Lyssa, it’s raining in here!” Shawn whines, making puppy eyes to melt her heart as the water straightens his curls, hair clinging to his forehead and face getting all wet while the rain intensifies. “Go home then,” She says as if it’s simple for him. “There’s nothing stopping you.” “But you’re my home—“ “Oh, no! Ew!” He bursts into laughs, not surprised to have this reaction from her because she does that everytime he gets way too passionate for her taste. He can’t say he doesn’t love this, because it always leads him to the perfect opportunities to tease her until she gives into his kiss and stops being such a cold-hearted girl. His cold-hearted girl. Or at least it’s what he dreams of. “Let me in or I’ll start singing again.” “Why don’t you sing to your motorcycle? Oh, better: Why don’t you give your ex-girlfriend a ride to school while you make up those silly lyrics like you did two days ago?” He can tell she’s furious by the way she avoids looking at him, sticking a finger after the other to elect the phases of that horrible episode she had to see on tuesday. “I—“ Shawn exhales, puffing the air off his lungs to his cheeks and then out of them. He’s having a hard time staring at her, the waterdrops insisting on get into his eyes as he squints his eyelids to cover his irises partly. “I can explain that!” “Good!” She widens her eyebrows, faking an excitement. “Save your words to put them into a song. The paper is sure way more interested than I am.”

And just like that, stubborn as always, she storms away to the corridor and leaves Shawn talking to the sky above his damp body.

They’re both working quickly.

She’s fast to go downstairs and find the keys to set inside the lock, twisting the cold metal until she hears the soft click while the tree next to her window is dancing from side to side slightly, Shawn’s silhouette swinging with it as he does his best climbing all the way up to jolt his middle forwards and reach the window that she’d left open with the arm that’s not holding the wood for dear life. And of course it’s not his first time doing this. If there’s something Shawn can add to his resume is the gift of being a very talented and skilled tree-climber. God knows how many times he ran away from his own house and some other houses using trees and tricks he’d been learning for good years.

On top of the tree and holding onto the wooden piece that draws the base of her window, he brings his other arm and, when he finds the perfect balance, he releases his legs from the tree to push the material down — body rising as a consequence — until he’s able to set his leg inside her bedroom and feel the floor underneath his foot, promptly bringing the rest of his limbs with him.

He’s preparing to jump out of this window as quick as he got inside through it, because he’s soaking the carpet of her bedroom but just to make sure she won’t throw him, he closes it once more and fixes his hair, hand eventually coming down to wipe the droplets from his rosy face. Hearing soft footsteps trailing the way from the beginning of the corridor to Alyssa’s room, Shawn closes the curtains and freezes in place, not sure where to hide but hoping that the darkness wouldn’t let someone recognize his figure. As if.

But he immediately identifies the pattern of her breathing.

Yes.

The fuckin’ pattern of her breathing.

He had her sighs memorized from the many times he kissed her wonderful lips until she went breathless and from the moments watched her sleep in peace curled against his body at the times he broke into her house by the window or when she lied to her parents that she’d spend the night with her best friends to be on Shawn’s bed, rolling across it with his body hovering over hers and vice-versa until the sunrise.

She’s careful to close her door discreetly, the silk-blue nightdress swinging lightly when she spins in place to face the doorknob she’s holding, pushing it slowly until it’s closed. Too concentrated, she hadn’t noticed a taller frame coming behind her back with arms open and ready to embrace her.

“Lyssa, listen,” He whispers.

And there’s the perfect recipe for disaster.

“LORD JESUS C—“ She turns around, trembling.

“No, no, no,” Shawn instantly covers her mouth, holding her waist with his other arm still whispering as lowly as possible. “Shhh, it’s me, baby, it’s just me.”

Her eyes are wide open, mouth still parted against his palm and it’s almost like he can hear her heartbeat increasing insanely. Yeah, good luck for him to get out of this alive.

“Gotta keep quiet, love—“

“Don’t call me love!” She murmurs after pushing his arm away, hating him even more for smiling and graze her with both arms like she’s not even 1% mad at him. “Get out!”

“Not before you listen to me.”

“You’re ruining my carpet, you dumbass—“

“I’ll lick it clean if you close that pretty little mouth and let me explain why I took Bea to school that day.”

“Bea?”

“Beatrice Fitzpatrick, Alyssa Stempford. Better?”

“It’s the bare minimum.”

“C’mere,” He travels his big hands to cup her pretty face, watching her frowned eyebrows and the honey bangs being moved by his breath coming out of his nose, fanning the little locks. “I want a kiss first, eh?” He licks his lips before pressing them against hers and fuck it’s so delicious to have his mouth, all wet and smooth pecking hers slowly and repetitively. They’re both humming, this simple action sending a wave of desire to both their most sensible parts already and it would be even better if Alyssa hadn’t stopped when she felt his tongue poking out to slip past her lips. “Babe, stop! You’re being unreasonable.”

“I’m being what?”

“You know that there’s no reason to be jealous of her! We broke up ages ago,” They’re both sounding squeaky through their breaths, trying not to disturb anyone else. “Come on, Aly.”

“Okay,” She mumbles, walking to sit at the end of her bed and she’s a sight for him right now. Silky legs crossed, her arms stretched at her sides and giving him a slight view of the swell of her breasts and her tempting face tilts to the side, lightening a fire under his dirtiest thoughts. “You have 5 minutes.”

“Ha! Very funny—“

“Four and fifty-nine…”

“Really, Alyssa?” He puts his hands on his waist.

“Four and fifty-eight…” She lifts an eyebrow, internally warning ‘you better start before I change my mind’ towards his confused expression. She’s unbelievable; she’s impossible.

“Stop!” Shawn whines again, laughing and crushed. Alyssa’s stubbornness is tough to deal with and after months, he still doesn’t know how to act with it. After all, she always gets him on his knees for her, his heart says he’s gotta have her. “You’re being such a brat, Ly.”

“Four and…” Each of her fingers is coming forward to touch her thumb, her mind pretending to be working on simple math. “Fifty-six?! Time’s running, Peter Raul.”

“Alright, look,” And so he knees in front of her, facing her sweet legs and moving his wet curls away from his hazel eyes. “Mrs. Fitzpatrick called me, ‘kay? Saying that her car ran out of gas and she couldn’t reach her husband at that moment to bring someone to fix that. The car wouldn’t move, you know, Lys?”

Alyssa’s face is softening, although she’s still serious and not blinking, too distracted by his loving raspy-low tone and the little scar on his rosy cheek. She keeps quiet, waiting for him to go somewhere coherent with this.

“I can’t help it, the moms love me,” Shawn shrugs, grinning like an idiot. “Anyways, she asked me to pick Bea—, Beatrice up and give her a ride otherwise she would be late for class, which she can’t be because she’s been missing lots of classes.”

“Oh, how do you know that?”

“Mrs.Fitzpatricktoldme.” Hurrying his words to make it clear he isn’t making shit up, he says as his fingers come up to touch her shins and his mouth goes forward to place a sweet kiss on her knee. “You know me! I’m such a family boy, I wouldn’t say no to a favor.”

“Mm,” She resists, ignoring the knot on her lower stomach showing up as he drags his red lips up to the beginning of her thigh. “That’s all?”

“All, Lyssa,” He shuts his eyes close, feeling the warm flesh under his mouth as he plants open mouthed smooches on her leg. “Promise ya nothing else happened, that’s just it. Don’t be mad at me, babe.”

“Great,” Alyssa says, regretting treating him so bad but still not ready to say she’s sorry. “Now pull away, you’re soaking me.”

“That’s the intention, dumbass,” He inches closer, making a trail of wet pecks up her thigh as the skin shows goosebumps and chills take over her neck. “Let me stay the night?”

“Shawn—“

“Come on! I’m being good, I told you everything.”

“It’s too risky, we—“

“I’ll be quiet! No one’s going to know I’m here.”

“Who’s being stubborn now?”

“At least I’m being rational.”

“Do you wanna stay or?”

“I do! Please, please, please, please…”

He grabs handfuls of her legs and goes over her, kissing her exposed chest all the way to her neck — sucking softly at the sensitive sides — and stops at her mouth, brushing their noses and lips together while whispering his please over and over again. She lets her middle drop down on her mattress, looking up at the ceiling while she considers all the pros and cons of letting him stay. What if her dad sees them? What if he can’t sneak out by the morning? What if her brother invades her room like he does sometimes without further warnings? What if Karen finds out he wasn’t at Brian’s and comes to reveal her parents all the things about their relationship?

“Lyssa?”

Her mind is still somewhere else, thinking about a safe way to let this happen.

“Lys?”

She could make him hide inside her wardrobe on that big space she used to keep her blankets before moving them to the basement.

“Lyssie?”

Or she could lock her door and just tell her parents she’s having one of those terrible period cramps she gets sometimes.

“Alyyyyssaaaa…”

Better! When everyone’s ready to go to the Montgomery’s annual party, she can say that she’s too busy with Biology homework.

“Ly. Ly, Ly, Ly, Ly, Lyssa, Lyly, Aly, Aly-ly-ly,”

“What?” She nearly yells.

“Watcha thinkin’? He asks in a childish tone, chin placed perfectly between her round breasts covered with light freckles from last summer days. His fingers are drawing twisted lines along her sides, threatening to come up and cup her nipples pearling through the thin fabric. Shawn never gets tired of glancing at every detail on her body, smiling like the fucked boy he is for her only.

“Promise you’re gonna be quiet?”

“A hundred percent.”

“Not gonna break into the kitchen in the middle of the night?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Won’t snore?”

“I don’t snore!” Shawn comes out high-pitched, totally offended. How would a handsome guy like Shawn snore? No way.

“That’s the spirit!” Alyssa says ironically, raising her middle a little and Shawn doesn’t inch a millimeter, face still glued to her chest. She tugs at his wet locks, bringing him closer. “Gonna take those clothes off for me?”

“Would rather having you undressing me, pretty girl.” He whispers against her lips, biting at the lower one and pulling it to himself before letting the swollen flesh spring back to its place.

“Whatever keeps you away from wetting my entire bed.”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfics #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes masterlist #mine #ficsofmine

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gwilymz · 5 years

Text

As It Began

Brian May x Fem!Reader

Summary: Brian is twenty-three and working at earning his PhD when he meets you--coy and effortlessly beautiful--in an elective literature course. He’s infatuated by your inattentiveness to him, and he has never wanted anybody or anything more than he wants you.

Word Count: ...12,129.... (i said she was long)

Warnings: Pining, angst, sadness, lust, flirting, (kind of) cheating, filthy sex (unprotected, mutual masturbation, oral) --she has everything

The last bit of summer was dwindling as the days became shorter, the sun seeming to extinguish itself perpetually before nine. Brian looked through his window, down upon the streets of London as yellow raincoats and soggy boots sloshed through glassy rain, the city lights haloed upon grease-slicked streets. He had to focus extra hard to see anything else than his quite bemused-looking reflection, glaring through the cold window as if his sharp nose was pressed against a personal black mirror, and not his bedroom window, where rain was slapping against the glass with such force it made him wince--he got jumpy at night.

But nine was barely night; Brian had made do with the sunken bags which hung under his eyes like a speckled nest where his sleeplessness gathered into shades of pinks and purples, luckily barely visible from his freckled tan, deep from the sunny breezes in Tenerife which kissed his cheeks, cascaded down his languid body.

He’d spent the summer on the humid, lush fields in Tenerife, stammering through Spanish and squinting through poorly-assembled lenses and telescopes borrowed from the university--that the department only let him have after filling his ears with passive threats. They knew Brian would never disrespect their property; he couldn’t disrespect anything if he tried.

And now, his hands were dry from that quintessentially summer sun as he traced the rain droplets that trembled from the slope of the shingled roof, wishing he could feel the water seep into his pores, so he could think about anything else, other than the oppressing anxiety of his next journey that would surely immortalize those sunken eyes of his. He was going to start his studies for his PhD the next day, his father’s urging. And while of course Brian wanted to continue his studies as well, his stomach felt tightly-wound and his fingers trembled like the rain on the window as he thought about the work, the classes, the time he would have to inevitably spend on school. He was lucky enough to have received a full scholarship for his PhD, but left the endeavor feeling more forced upon him than his father’s dreams of him did. His work at his undergraduate studies was impeccable; he received almost perfect marks and he spent the weekends teetering between two very antithetical sides of himself. One weekend Brian would be sat on a rooftop with his college friends, their hair mussed from the mid-summer’s breeze, stringy from the wind pulling the strands apart as they quarreled about angular measurements and accuracy. And the next weekend he’d have eyeshadow firmly packed onto puffy eyelids as he tried to maneuver his bony hands over his guitar, his flowy sleeves like wings which seemed to take him to a more natural state of himself, where the expectations for him weren’t so serious.

His eyes began to flutter shut, the London traffic becoming a sort of lullaby for him as he laid down on his bed, which sat against the window. His sheets were crisp and cold, and his teeth chattered as he pulled a fleece blanket of his over him, up to his shoulders. He leaned over to his bedside table and fiddled with his alarm clock, his white nail polish glowing by the yellow street lights which gleamed through the window beside him. He set the clock for 8:30 AM precisely; his elective literary studies class beginning an hour later.

“Brian, would you turn the fucking alarm off?” Roger rattled the doorknob before turning it swiftly and flipping the light switch on and off, on and off.

Brian groaned, pulling his flattened pillow over his face, his hair sloppy from sleep. “What are you talking about, Roger?”

“Your bloody alarm has been blaring for almost half an hour; you woke us all up, we thought we were going crazy!” Roger yanked the cord of the clock, sighing in relief as the sharp ringing finally stopped echoing through his ears.

“Half an hour?” Brian sat up, rubbing his eyes. He did the math quickly, despite remaining half asleep. “Shit!” He thrust himself out of bed, his comforter promptly falling to the wooden floors as he realized class started in less than thirty minutes.

“My alarm was going off for half an hour and you never bothered to wake me?” Brian glared at Roger, who was laying on Brian’s naked bed, his hands woven together, resting on his chest as he looked at the ceiling.

“Not my job to wake you up, Bri. You’re twenty three. Why was your alarm even set?” He furrowed his eyebrows, interrogating Brian, who struggled to button his flared trousers due to his shaky hands.

“You waited fucking half an hour! Now I’m going to be late and it’s my first day!” Brian stood in front of a mirror which hung by his closet, mussing his hair in an attempt to somehow reverse how messy it looked already, loose curls arranged in awry tufts.

“First day for what?” Deaky walked in, his feet padding against the cold floors. He was wearing his boxers and a baggy t-shirt, his voice groggy from a restless slumber.

“University! I’m still going to school, remember? I’ve only told you on about eight different occasions.” Brian shrugged a white button-up on, not bothering to fasten it all the way; he didn’t have time. He turned his necklace around on his thin neck so the chain was positioned as he wanted it to be.

“Right. Well you definitely told us that while we were pissed off our asses.” Roger had plugged Brian’s alarm clock back into the wall, and was attempting to set it to the correct time again by looking at a watch of Brian’s sitting beside it.

“Whatever. What time is it, Rog?” Brian yawned, pulling a light jacket on as he sat on his bed, scouring the floor for socks to wear. He found a navy blue one an a black one and decided those colors were similar enough to count as matching.

“Quarter past nine.” He pat the clock gently as he finished setting it.

“Fuck.” Brian piled his books into his arms and shoved them into his school bag before grabbing a dull pencil and tucking it behind his ear, the yellow barrel obscured by his thick curls.

“Bri we’re recording a demo at five tonight. Bring your guitar; you always forget it and we’re too fucking poor to wait on you like last time and waste our rental money.”

Brian glared at Roger and slung his guitar case over his shoulder, his school bag hanging heavy on his other one. He was embarrassed to be bringing his bulky instrument on his first day of classes, and was on the verge of anxiety-induced tears by the thought of being late on the first day where school was actually meant to be real and professional and for something.

He strolled through the streets taking wide and sure strides, staring at his watch so often he mumbled ‘sorry’ to quite a few strangers as his guitar case knocked into their sunken shoulders. It was almost half-past, and his shoes were caked in a thin, rain diluted mud, making his presence on the street that much more palpable, a constant reminder that he was late. He was walking against the wind, and his eyes were squinting, his breath caught, frozen in his nostrils and trapped in his throat as the heavy air blocked his lungs.

He ran to the liberal arts building, his guitar hitting against the ridges of his spine as he dodged leisured students who were chatting through the corridors. His watch read nine thirty-four, and he bit his lip as his knuckles rapped against the cherrywood door of the classroom, his metal rings making a clean, tinny sound against it. He had always prided himself on being on time to school. He was always waiting by the door, sitting on a small glossy wooden bench as his foot tapped in tune to the clicking of his watch, waiting for the hour to strike. He hated being late, and he was attempting to rehearse what he was going to say, when the professor opened the door, pursing her thin lips, which she painted red, probably in an attempt to reassure herself that her youth wasn’t completely lost.

She rose her thin, almost semicircular eyebrows, opening the door wider for Brian to come in. When she saw his guitar case, she scoffed, and Brian’s face reddened, feeling her judgement as his professor looked him up and down, noting his disheveled hair, his exposed chest, tight pants, muddy shoes. Brian sauntered through the door, trying his best to look cool and relaxed, channeling his on-stage persona which was admittedly hard to summon when seventy-five colleges students were staring at him as if he were an unworthy specimen.

“This isn’t a music studio, I hope you know that much--,” She paused, looking at her roster, waiting for Brian to fill in the blank. He stood in front of the rows of seats, and he finally understood why students were referred to as pupils; he felt more than one hundred of them watching his every move, amused by his perturbation.

“Brian. May.” He straightened his back, trying to get his guitar to fall more comfortably on his body; it was starting to make his back ache. He continued, trying to redeem himself, but it presented itself as a lost cause. “I know it’s not uh--a music studio. My band has a recording session after my classes today. I wouldn’t normally be so--late. And messy.” He added, shaking his head slightly to move his hair out of his face, even though he wanted nothing more than to hide behind it.

The class snickered, their chairs orchestrating a symphony of screeching against the paneled floors as they stifled laughs at Brian’s embarrassment.

“Well, keep your guitar by the door, so people can actually see the lecture you’ve so kindly interrupted.” Brian quickly pulled the strap over his head, his hair bouncing back into its place--not that it really had a place on his head. Each strand fell on his face--upon his brow, differently every day. “You can sit down next to Y/N Y/L/N. She’s front and center. Can’t hide in the back when you fail to be on time.”

Brian’s eyes followed the professor’s--who he learned was named professor Lee--perks of standing beside her desk for over two minutes; he counted on his watch. You sat exactly where she said, and you were looking at him with concern, your legs crossed over one another as your sneaker-covered feet bobbed up and down. You were wearing a casual dress with black tights, your shoulders covered by a thick coat. You were drawing swirls along the curved corners of your notebook, your fingers tracing over the metal spiral simultaneously. Your eyes were boring into his, your lip sucked between your teeth nervously. Brian’s eyes widened as he took in your features, the easiness of them making him nervous to sit down next to a creature so beautiful, and effortlessly so. Your hair cascaded perfectly, falling in a way that was completely opposite of his own. His shoulders fell as he took his school bag off, setting it on the floor next to yours. You gave him a genuine smile, your eyes crinkling, eyebrows framing the grin flawlessly. He smiled back, canines poking through bitten, wind-chapped lips. Brian stretched his legs as he slyly buttoned his shirt up a bit more, feeling out of place in a room full of pristinely dressed, serious students. He always identified as a serious student, but his confidence was severely off-kilter because of just how much he stood out. HIs hair wasn’t gelled down, he didn’t wear a nice tie, or tailored trousers. His nails were painted, fingers adorned with silver rings, still cold to the touch. He had grown more comfortable with feeling uncomfortable--different--because he had to as a performer. He’d learned to embrace his style, which would forever be more akin to his musical persona than his studious, scientific one. But sitting next to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, he wished he could have made himself a worthy contender of getting to know you. He wished he wouldn’t have embarrassed himself so much, made himself look uncaring, stupid. He wanted to promise you: yes, I’m smart! I care so much about this; I’m not normally like this!

But he pulled his own journal out, fresh and leather bound, a gift from his father for enrolling into university once again, almost as soon as the accomplished glow of graduation wore from his face, the happiness immortalized by hundreds of photos his mother insisted on taking. He reached behind his ear, in search of the pencil he had tucked there earlier. He couldn’t find it, and he desperately patted his pockets, rolling his eyes as he failed to find one in his bag as well. His heartbeat was warped, uneven as he leaned towards you, your perfume wafting into him, making him even more nervous, somehow. You felt his eyes on you, and saw him leaning in through your peripheral vision, so you turned your head to face him, taken aback by his big, hazel-but-leaning-towards-brown eyes, his eyelashes delicate, but heavy looking nonetheless. His nose was aquiline, curved and prominent, a centerpiece that accented the rest of him well. His bottom lip protruded as he asked you if you would so kindly spare him a pencil. Or pen; he specified he would be okay with any utensil.

You rummaged through your bag, handing him a purple pen, the plastic cap barely bitten, but you were a bit tentative on giving it to him. His fingers brushed against yours, and you noticed the size of his hands, the white nail polish, chipping along the edge of his nails as he took the pen from your loosening grasp.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He whispered, looking up at you through his impossibly long lashes, as he scribbled on the corner of the first page of his journal. The pen was dry, and Brian poked his tongue out, poking the tip of the ben with it, the sting of metal coursing through his mouth, making him wince a bit.

“No problem, Brian.” you uttered, watching as the ink began to flow upon the page, purple ink bleeding into illegible scribble as he focused on the lecture. You turned away and did the same, until the professor dismissed class, the students intuitively and synchronously gathering their things to leave. Brian was slower, not wanting to leave before you did. He mirrored your actions, filing his papers in a folder, closing his journal gently, pretending to be fascinated by a blank, speckled piece of paper inside of it. He only stood up to leave as you did. He halted by the door, where his guitar case sat, leaned against the edge of the chalkboard. He bent down, picking it up slowly, trying not to be too conspicuous with his side-eyed glances to you, as you smiled at a couple, letting them leave in front of you. You hung your head, messing with the hem of your dress, pulling a frayed string from the seam. Brian stood at the door, looking at the plethora of novels shoved into professor Lee’s wooden bookshelf that, uncoincidentally, matched the wood on the classroom door perfectly. Your pen was between his lips, protruding out like a long skinny and purple cigarette, as he feigned interest in whatever book cover caught his eye.

As you neared him, Brian’s stature improved, his back straightening although his lower back was tender from the weight of his many bags and cases. He quickly took the pen from out of his mouth, wiping the spit that gathered on the end on his sleeve.

“Sorry.” he handed the dried pen to you.

“Don’t worry about it.” Your fingers lingered on top of his as you took the pen back, sending a jolt up the back of your neck, and you shivered a bit.

As soon as you and Brian left the classroom, your friend’s arm was draped around your shoulder, leading you away from the bewildered face of Brian, standing in the hallway, looking like a sea of words were jumbled in his mouth, unable to get out.

“How was it?” Freddie took a sip from a half-drunk beer bottle, passed to him by Deaky. Brian was the last to arrive at the recording studio--his astronomy class was long and strenuous, but he felt a lot better, because that’s where he really fit in, where he knew what he was doing.

“Besides being late because you guys are assholes, it was fine.” He took his guitar out of its case and pulled the leather strap over his head, tracing the swirling designs which reminded him of the designs you drew in your tattered notebook.

“Darling, you’re getting your PhD. You’re smarter than all of us, so you can figure out how to wake your skinny ass up.” Freddie took another swig of beer, tilting his head back. His jaw was prominent, and his eyes were a bit puffy, like the rest of the band’s.

Brian sat down on the couch next to Roger, strumming, pulling each string, pronounced and harmonic as the melody thumped through the cigarette-smoke tainted air around them. It was impromptu; Brian came up with it on the spot, his mouth hung open as his coin plucked the strings, vibrations coursing through knobby fingers.

“That’s a nice sound, Bri.” Deaky scooted near him, and watched intently as Brian repeated it, his lip pulled taut between his teeth.

“Got lyrics for that? A composition?” Freddie set his bottle of beer down, standing up as the producers came in on time, for once.

“Uh--no. Just came up with it on the spot.”

“It would be a shame to waste that; it was gorgeous!” Fred pinched Brian’s cheek and pointed a finger at their two producers--short, burly men that contrasted from the band’s look. They looked tired, and annoyed by their liveliness, by their perpetual feelings of having nothing to lose--except for money.

They began recording a short EP, and it was a good day at the studio. Their voices meshed together, silk that was carefully threaded, impossible to pull apart, cohesive, but somehow still fragile and elegant. They never missed a beat, and their long nights of playing until their fingers were blistered and their voices shaky paid off.

The producer pulled his headphones off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was smiling though, which was rare for his usually quite cold and harsh demeanor. “This is really strong, guys.” He said, his smile growing so his crooked teeth poked from under chapped lips. “I have a good feeling about this demo. Radio stations have a good chance of actually playing this.”

Brian nudged Roger, and they all began to celebrate, taking swigs from a flat bottle of beer sitting on the edge of a coffee table, scattered with playboys and time magazines--requests from both sides of the spectrum.

“But,” He finished, pointing a finger at them. “I think it would be better received if there were a slower song. Keep Yourself Alive and Liar are fantastic. And I love how My Fairy King slows it down a notch. But I think it needs one more strong song, just to show them you can do it, you know?”

They all nodded, understanding his point, and willing to follow whoever or whatever to the end of the earth if it meant they could gain a speck of recognition for over a year of musical differences, failed bookings, unimpressed record companies.

“Brian, maybe something with that guitar thing you did?” Roger suggested, pointing his almost-empty beer bottle at him, sitting on the arm of the couch, watching as the producers prodded with the controls, playing with the sounds.

“Yeah, I’ll try to come up with something.” He picked the chipping nail polish from his cuticles, trying to think about possible lyrics. But the thing about songwriting--writing in general--for Brian, was that it couldn’t be a forced act. It was like that for everybody, he thought. It had to come deep from the subconscious, the chambers of the heart, submerged in blood and vulnerability.

It was the third week of classes before he saw you again. You had been sick for a week--he didn’t ask you, or know for sure, but he could see it within the rawness on your nose, how your lips were chapped just slightly, your skin a tad paler. He shuffled in his seat as you sauntered towards yours. Brian’s smile faltered as he saw a hand resting on your lower back, against the suede of your coat, probably soft against his fingers. It was a guy he recognized; he sat a couple rows back. He was the complete opposite of Brian physically: more than a head shorter, neat, straight blond hair. He wore expensive suits to class, and wire rim glasses that looked outdated, but he also pulled them off nicely. He was more forward, his hand was tracing down your body, inching lower on your back, almost pulling at the top of your skirt. His name was Thomas, he believed--or maybe he went by Tommy. Brian’s gaze followed Tommy’s fingers, as they crawled towards your hips, digging into the soft skin before he kissed you softly. Brian quickly turned his way as his eyes met Tommy’s, instead looking at the door, watching the students trudge in, finding their seats as they shrugged off soaked coats, rubbing their hands together to create any kind of friction. He raised his eyebrows at Brian, hanging your coat on the back of your seat. Your lips pressed a firm kiss on his jaw as he stood up again, your dark lipstick staining his skin.

The lecture began, seemingly as soon as Brian tore his eyes from your profile. You could feel his stare, his jaw tensed. And then he looked away as professor Lee came in, setting her bag down before getting to her lecture, her dainty fingers holding a fresh piece of chalk, dry in her hands.

“We’re beginning our section on ballads today.” She scrawled the word in white, her handwriting lopsided, uppercase, angry. Brian covered his journal with his arm, writing your name on the top of the paper, so small he had to squint to make it out. He scribbled it out just as fast, realizing how stupid he was--a post-graduate student, a few years away from being Doctor May, pining over a girl who was dating his obverse, a guy he could never be--never wanted to be.

“I want you all to write a ballad or an ode. I want it to be abstract and complicated. It needs to be professional and serious--this isn’t just some entry level course. It should be done by the 2nd of October. I’m giving you almost a month, so be thorough, creative.” Professor Lee rubbed her hands together, a puff of powdered chalk billowing through the air as she dismissed the class. Brian slammed his journal shut, pushing his pen behind his ear as he quickly packed his belongings; he had to go as soon as possible. He grabbed his bag quickly, shoving the journal inside along with his textbook, not caring that his paperback ripped a bit as the tough corner of his textbook nudged against it. Tommy was between your desk and Brian’s, his hands in his pocket as he waited for you to pack up your things. He adjusted his glasses as he made eye contact with Brian, Brian rolling his eyes the almost imperceptibly at his smug face, his expensively tailored shirt and silk tie.

“How did your recording session go?” Tommy asked, condescendingly, handing Brian a small paper he had dropped--a draft of a song he was writing. He snatched it from the shorter man’s hand and shoved it in his pocket.

“We recorded a demo. We’ll see if it gets anywhere; we just have to make some finishing touches.” Brian pursed his lips, his curls flopping as he picked his bag up. You and this Tommy--Brian still didn’t know if that was even his name--followed him as he left, almost mockingly. As if he were saying look, I have what you want. I’ll never let you forget it. Brian stood up taller, slowing down so he was walking next to you, your boyfriend on the other side, his arm around your waist, holding you tightly. You looked up at Brian as he spoke, more relaxed now, mellow and sultry.

“I’m hoping the demo is well-received. We worked really hard on it.”

What he said was innocent enough, but as you watched his face, his curls falling over his dilated eyes, his lip bitten, his shirt unbuttoned like always, you wondered what he was doing. His jaw clenched, and your face grew hot as his sleeve just barely brushed against yours; two whole layers in between making you imagine how touching his bare skin would feel--but you couldn’t do that. Brian opened the heavy door, leading outside where a persistent rain was cascading through the streets. The clouds were almost yellow, hazy, like the leaves which crunched beneath the feet of perturbed Londoners, shuffling past each other, shoulder-to-shoulder. He ushered you out, making sure that Tommy went first. Brian pressed a hand down on your shoulder, and the touch was firm, you felt it everywhere.

“Do you--” you began, pulling your hood up to cover your head, looking at Brian, angelic yet almost sinful to look at.

But he interrupted you, patting both your and Tommy’s shoulders as he raised a hand to greet a blond guy across the street, who was holding a cigarette between his lips, shielding it with jittery hands as he attempted to light it by the covered entrance of a restaurant.

“I’ve gotta go,” He grinned at you two, pointing a thumb across the puddled street. “See you guys next week?”

You nodded, a shiver rising up your back, not because of the cold, but because of Brian’s voice; you’d never noticed how nice it really was. You grabbed his wrist, and Tommy glared at you confused.

“Brian.” You said, assured. He quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve got an eyelash on your cheek.” You stood on your toes and plucked it off, the dark hair prominent against your fingertip. You held it in front of his lips. “Make a wish.” You nudged your finger forward, bumped by a stranger’s shoulder against your own. Your finger grazed against his bottom lip, just barely, as he blew his eyelash, watching as it was whisked away.

Brian waved a goodbye at you, his ring shining under a particularly bright street light as he strode across the street, his hands now shoved deep in his pockets, his hands playing with the perforated edges of a song, hidden away.

___

That night left him sitting at his desk, his fingers gripping his pencil, which he forgot was behind his ear until Deaky teased him for it.

“You’re such a geek, with your pencil behind your ear. How studious you are.” He reached up and grabbed it, and Brian took it back, facetiously rolling his eyes.

Now, he used that pencil, tapping on the crumpled paper in front of him, the same piece that was tucked away in his pocket all day. It was a little soggy, but it would work well enough. The boys were bugging him to write a song, and he knew he had a ballad to write for class anyway. The rubber eraser was dull, completely flat and black, from all of the erasing, and it had grown shorter from how much he had used it. He leaned back on the legs of his desk chair, a mahogany wooden one his father made for him as a housewarming gift. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out the time on his alarm. His eyes focused, and he sighed deeply. It was nearing four AM, and he didn’t have a single, cohesive line written down. He turned off his desk lamp, the only light in his room from the stars, which seemed to be unusually bright, and unshrouded by heavy clouds, like they always were in London. Brian hugged his legs to his chest, looking out the window, his eyes glossed over, tired but unable to sleep. He picked the fuzz from his socks, taking a deep breath before dozing off, curled up tightly. The flat was empty; Deaky was at his girlfriends, Roger and Freddie out at the bars. But he sat alone, like always, cold.

The week elapsed quickly, and Brian hadn’t looked at the song--well the lack thereof--since shoving it in the depths of his school bag seven days before. That next Monday was sunnier than usual, and the flat was eclectic, even at ten AM--which was much earlier than the other three men would ever choose to wake up. They had a gig that night, only because a desperate pub owner’s former booking backed out after they all developed awful strep.

“What a blessing!” Freddie clapped his hands together, alluding to the other band’s sickness.

“Watch it, Fred. Karma’ll get you if you keep saying that shit.” Deaky rubbed his eyes, pulling socks on his feet, which looked numb.

“Oh, shut the hell up. We needed this.” Freddie poked Roger’s sides, sitting on his stomach, making the blond wince in pain. He groaned, pushing Freddie off of him, holding his stomach as he curled into himself. He was hungover from the night before; he and Freddie had stolen sips of uncountable martinis, whiskeys and gins at the bars the night before, and the concoction of it all seemed to be chemically reacting inside of him.

“Fuck, Fred. I won’t be able to play if you kill me.” He rolled over, shoving a throw pillow over his head. “Let me be.” His voice was muffled, his lips against the couch. “How are you even functioning, Freddie? You drank more than me.” His voice was barely intelligible, but Freddie understood perfectly well.

“It’s the adrenaline, sweets. Where’s Brian?” Freddie left Roger alone, walking over to his room. The door was shut, and Freddie, opened it, Deaky following behind him.

“He’s at uni to finish some astronomy thing so he can take the day off for the gig.” Deaky took a bite out of an apple.

“Chew it right in my ear, Deaky.” He rolled his eyes, and Deaky chewed more dramatically, directly into his ear as he ran away.

“You’re fucking deplorable, Deaks. Who raised you?” He giggled, taking another apple from their counter, biting into it just as pronounced, the juice dribbling down his chin. They heard keys jingling outside of the door, and Freddie looked through the tiny peephole, shoving Deaky aside so he could see first. But Deaky swung the door open.

“Bri!” He ruffled the taller man’s hair, and Brian pulled his bag off of his shoulder, dropping it on the ground by their coat rack, the hard books inside clunking against each other. “You ready for tonight?”

“I suppose. I’m a bit nervous; we haven’t really played in awhile.” He shut the door behind him, pulling his jacket off.

“DON’T FUCKING SLAM YOUR SHIT ON THE GROUND, BRIAN!” Roger screamed, groaning into the crevice of the couch.

“He’s hungover.” Freddie nodded, throwing the core of his apple into the trash, along with Deaky’s. “But he has to suck it up and get up! Because we have a show to put on at seven!” Freddie screamed towards the living area, and Roger’s feet twitched, startled by his voice.

“Get me about four painkillers and a cold glass of water and I’ll think about it.” Roger sat up, his eyes sunken and bloodshot, making the blues of his irises that much more pronounced. Brian reached into the cupboard and got him three painkillers.

“All we have left.” He confirmed shaking two other empty bottles of pills, tossing them away. Freddie handed him a glass of water, the ice clinking against the spotted glass.

Twenty minutes later, they were in the band van, Brian driving since he was the most level-headed. Roger would usually insist, but he was in the back, leaning his head against the side of the van, groaning as he hugged Brian’s blanket around his body.

“Turn the heat up, maybe?” Roger scolded, projecting so Brian could hear him over the rattling of their instruments.

“The heat is on, love. You can’t feel it when you’re as far away from the front as possible.” Freddie turned to face Roger, who was flipping him off as he crawled to the front so he could warm up a bit.

“Turn right at this light, Bri.” Freddie pointed to the traffic light a ways away, the yellow light hazy and fuzzy around the edges.

“I know how to get there.” Brian stopped at the light, the windshield splashing with a thick coat of muddy rain as other cars drove away. Brian gripped the wheel as he turned, the windshield wipers ridding the window of the acidic rain.

He parked the van at the back entrance of the pub, where, thankfully, there was a small awning so they wouldn’t be completely soaked. They lugged the drum kit out first, and Roger refused to help, widening his eyes and holding his stomach, feigning and over exaggerating his hangover.

“I’m sure this mysterious illness will suddenly cure itself when you find a groupie tonight.” Deaky slung Brian’s guitar over his back, grabbing extra drumsticks, thrusting them into Roger’s hand. “Can you handle these, Rog?” He patted his back gently, giving him a faux-sympathetic look. Roger faked a cough and wobbled inside as Brian locked the van, their wardrobe bags tucked under his arm.

It was nearing seven, and the band’s persistent advertising paid off; they were almost at capacity. Brian peeked out from behind the curtains, seeing everyone packed together tightly, the sound of Roger’s cymbals only accentuating the loudness of the crowd.

“It’s packed.” Brian smiled, giving his bandmates a thumbs up as he slung his guitar over his body. All of their outfits were a lot more flamboyant than usual, the patterns more daring, pleats more defined. Their eyes were caked in makeup, and eyeliner threatened to smear from the sweat that was already forming from nerves and body heat in excess.

The show began almost promptly at seven; they had begun to set up too early, but they couldn’t help the excitement of having their own gig--no openers, no distractions--even if it were entirely coincidental. They played with complete precision, their voices flowing through each other, harmonies flawless. Roger’s beat never faltered, Deaky’s fingers never skipped a chord. Freddie’s voice was clear, resonating loud, his projection making a microphone almost unnecessary. Brian felt in his element, talented. He was zoned out, not thinking about university for the first time since classes began weeks ago. His fingers slid across the strings, almost automatically, even though he hadn’t seriously practiced or played in what felt like months. The recording studio was different; they had the ability to fuck up. But there, on stage, was the real deal. It was showing the world their capabilities when there was no room for mistakes, and a quite sufficient amount of room for ridicule and criticism. But the crowd wasn’t critical, Brian thought, as he watched them sway, entranced by Freddie’s performance, his mike stand almost conducting them to move in sync with each other. His eyes squinted, blinded by the red lights, the stage smoke which Freddie insisted was a critical part of the experience. And as the lights were cut, Brian, along with the rest of the band hated to feel the beginnings of the end already. They wanted more, wanted to be the center of attention for more than a two hour set every few weeks, whenever they could get lucky enough to book something semi-substantial.

As Brian ducked backstage, he already heard the unmistakable sound of a champagne bottle being popped, then the protests as the foam bubbled over. Deaky sucked it from the side of the bottle, Roger opening his mouth to catch the drops which were dripping down the side of the green glass bottle. A bartender handed Brian some champagne flutes, and he fumbled with them holding each one between a bony finger as he set them down on the table, which was really an empty beer crate. Freddie poured them all a glass, and then another one. And they popped open more bottles of champagne before they ventured to the bar, where crowd members bought them shot after shot, which they downed, out of respect, of course.

So Brian wasn’t all that surprised when he woke up, drool dried on the side of his cheek, his arm hung off the side of a booth, his body halfway obscured under a table which was cluttered with dirty glasses, limes with the juice sucked out. His arm was severely asleep, and his head was pounding, his legs curled up since the booth was much too short to fit his entire body. He tried to sit up, but he hit his head on the bottom of a gum-plastered table.

“Ow!” He rubbed his head, and Deaky jostled on the booth across from him, groaning. His shirt was all the way unbuttoned, and one of his shoes was nowhere to be found, the other one still snug on his foot.

“Fuck.” Brian ran behind the bar, throwing up in a trashcan as he held onto the edge of the marble tabletop for support. He stood up, wiping his mouth with a napkin he found under a diluted martini. He was getting himself a glass of water when he saw the time on a neon clock hung near a shelf of vodkas. It was 8:55 AM. It could be worse he thought, quickly filling three more glasses with cold water, setting them by Deaky, Freddie, and Roger who were all knocked out, snoring in different corners of the bar, stinking of booze and sweat, just like Brian probably did. He grabbed his guitar and the keys to the van, changing into his old clothes which sat, pooled in the back. Except he accidentally put on Deaky’s shirt which was way too tight. But he didn’t have time to change; he just put on a velvet blazer and some trousers that could have been Freddie’s (they seemed a bit short), and grabbed his school bag, patting himself on the back for underestimating himself the night before. He left the keys back with Deaky, knowing he’d be the most apt to drive them home, judging by Roger and Freddie’s sleeping positions--Freddie was almost upside down, and Roger was on the floor, half naked, still holding on tightly to a half-drunk bottle of gin.

Brian jogged to class this time, the streets a bit quieter, as most of the weekend crowd had dwindled. Everyone seemed to know where they were going, and Brian strode through the outskirts of campus, cutting through a small trail lined with foliage. He held his guitar this time, his knuckles numbed and white from gripping the handle so hard. He lifted his watch--it was 9:26. He ran into the liberal arts building, like every Tuesday, sliding through the heavy wooden door, etched with swirled designs that reminded him so much of home, although he didn’t know why.

He was in his seat by 9:28, sweating profusely, and extremely self-aware of how weird he must have looked. Last night’s makeup was smeared around his eyes, glittery eyeshadow now highlighting his cheeks. His mouth was dry, his shirt two sizes too small. His pants were a bit short; he had definitely grabbed Freddie’s on accident. And he probably smelled awful, with booze on his breath to top it off. He leaned on his elbows, covering his mouth as he tapped his pen on his desk, trying to distract himself from your gaze, which he felt boring into him, and he just wanted to crawl into himself and never be seen again. He felt many eyes on him, judgemental and glaring; he stood out even more than usual, and he didn’t even know why he bothered coming. He rested his head on his desk, hoping he would forget about the stares if he couldn’t blatantly see them. His curls laid splayed on the desk, his hands in fists, his ankles cold from his much-too-short-pants.

The door slammed, and everyone sat up a little straighter, subconsciously fixing their hair that didn’t need to be fixed, straightening an already straightened tie. Brian lifted his head, the brighter lights that the professor turned on as she arrived making a dull pain ache between his eyes and run down the bridge of his nose. If he had to guess, he was still a bit tipsy from the night before.

“Long night, Mr. May?” Professor Lee looked inquisitively at Brian, who squinted at the mere brightness of her pale skin. He was glad she only said it loud enough so Brian could hear, and maybe you.

“Concert last night.” He answered, blinking slowly to savor his dwindling energy, already low from a severe lack of sleep--even for him.

“Smeared makeup,” She wiped a line of eyeliner from his cheekbone. “Is quite the look.”

You smirked in your seat next to him, crossing your arms. As class began, you could feel Brian’s gaze deepening on you, staring at your hands resting on your cheek, your legs clad in a skirt. The remaining alcohol in his system minimized his usually very heightened inhibitions, and he stared at you shamelessly but sadly, knowing his pining was nothing but a lost cause. You shifted in your seat, glancing at Brian whenever he wasn’t looking at you--which wasn’t often. But he looked good. His pupils were dilated, the aftershock from being drunk, you were sure. His chest was visible, and his shirt was a bit too small; makeup accentuated his sharp features yet softened them a bit. His hands rested under the desk, in his lap, where he spun his ring around his pinky finger, waiting for the lecture to end.

And seemingly hours and hours later, it did, cued by professor Lee slamming her book of ballads shut, dust fuming from in between yellowed pages.

“Don’t forget, your ballads are due next time I see you. I hope none of you have procrastinated.” She pointed an accusatory finger at the class, and they all lied through their teeth with enthusiastic head shakes.

“And Brian?” She called out, looking directly at him, the tallest one in the room by far. “I will be expecting an invite to your next concert; I’m quite curious about you. I think we all are.” She sat down at her desk, straightening a stack of books, as she looked at a very confused and embarrassed Brian, standing up, his guitar slung over his back like always.

“Um,” He stammered, trying to recall the booking schedule while it seemed like the whole class was frozen, waiting for Brian to humiliate himself, probably. “There’s one tonight. It’s at Imperial College, in the auditorium.” He nodded.

“Could I come? I’m sure some of your peers would love to see it too.” Professor Lee’s overly nice demeanor was confusing Brian, and his eyebrows furrowed together as he scratched his head.

“Uh--if you want. I mean yes, you’re all welcome. It’s 2 pounds to get in.” He didn’t want to invite everybody, but if their crowd was lacking and Freddie found out Brian’s modesty cost them a good show--he’d never hear the end of it.

You watched Brian pick at his jacket, absentmindedly stroking the velvet to distract himself from this embarrassment. He truly hoped nobody from class came to see him--not because he doubted his talents, or those of the rest of the boys--but because he knew these rich city kids wouldn’t appreciate the music, much less the performance. But you saw Brian straighten his back as he looked at you, his lip tugged by his teeth, as he decided he didn’t really care what these people thought. Why should he? He watched as your boyfriend hooked an arm around your waist, kissing the top of your head as he began to walk to Imperial College.

Brian was already late for rehearsals and setting up, so he didn’t have time to go home and shower. He locked himself in the bathroom at the college instead, awkwardly ducking his head in the sink, just to make him feel a bit cleaner. He found a bit of cologne in the bottom of his school bag, and he silently thanked whatever circumstances left it there. He snuck backstage, shaking his hair dry, a misty rain spraying down his shoulders as he did.

Freddie perked up as he saw him, and grabbed his shoulders, sitting him down on a broken amp. “You scared us half to death, Brian!” He slapped his shoulder, holding his hand out. “Roger hand me that cloth.”

Roger mocked him, rolling his doe-eyes. “A please wouldn’t hurt ya.”

Freddie just closed his fingers over his palm a few times, a gesture for him to get on with it. “No time for manners, Rog. We have a lot to rehearse.” Freddie hummed in delight as he felt a wet cloth being placed in his hand. Freddie bent forward, wiping the excess makeup from Brian’s face; it was smeared under his eyes, around them, on them. When he was satisfied, Freddie handed him an eyeliner pencil. “Also,” Freddie continued, gesturing to Brian’s outfit. “Give Deaky and I our clothes back when you change. Cropped and flared pants are not a look, not even for you sweetheart.”

Brian sat in front of a mirror backstage, his legs crossed as he lined his eyes carefully, like Freddie taught him. He pulled his eyelid taut, his mouth hung open as he smudged a black line on the puffy skin by his eyelashes. He changed into his own pants, which Freddie so kindly returned to him, and unbuttoned Deaky’s much-too-small silk button-up, breathing with relief when he finally had his full range of motion again. The concert was hours away, but Freddie insisted that the band fully immersed themselves into rehearsals--and that meant the makeup, the outfits, the nail polish.

At six forty-five, the crowd began to shuffle in, and Brian could feel his stomach tightening with anxiety--or was it pure fear? He found himself searching for you, but he couldn’t see; the contrast of the brilliant stage lights with the pitch-black pit was too large.

Brian was startled, as Roger slapped a hand on Brian’s shoulder, covered by ridiculous pleats and ruffles. “Are you alright?” He raised an eyebrow, and Brian turned to face him, shrugging his shoulders, his hands wrapped protectively around the neck of his guitar. He flipped his sixpence between his fingers.

“I’m fine.” Brian sighed. “I think some classmates are coming here, and I don’t really want them to be.”

“Why’d you invite them then?” He questioned, sipping some water to swallow a pain-killer.

He didn’t know, really. He told himself it was for Freddie--for the rest of the band. To make them feel like they were accomplishing something, like people were receiving their music well, because in all honesty it felt like they were screaming into deaf ears when it came to their music. But the pit in his stomach that he felt his heartbeat in told him he just wanted you to come. He wanted to show off to you. He wanted to show off to your boyfriend, truthfully.

“We deserve bigger crowds. More publicity.” Brian shrugged, and took Roger’s water of out of his hand, sipping some before handing it back. It was nearing seven and he felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins, on a highway to his quickening heart. The stage lights dimmed, and Brian could see Professor Lee, sitting cross-legged in the front row. A few other peers of his stood next to her, whispering as they side-eyed the stage. And you were right next to them, Tommy’s arm thrown over your shoulder, you nodding solemnly about something he whispered--or probably yelled--in your ear.

The crowd was lively and charged, jolted by the unorthodox performance they gave. Freddie glanced at Brian, giving him a small thumbs up, nodding his head towards where you stood, watching intently. You recognized the blond from a few weeks earlier, even though he was shrouded in a veil of sweat, glistening from the green lighting. The bassist was wearing the same shirt as Brian was earlier, but it fit the smaller man much better; he was able to move his arms swiftly, his shoulders bobbing as he fingered the frets. The singer was a powerhouse, a puppeteer, commandeering the crowd with the curl of a finger, an inflection of his voice. He kept swaying towards Brian, leading the taller man to in front of where you stood, neck craned to watch them--well, to watch Brian. He made eye contact with you plenty of times, his mouth agape, and he had to tear his gaze from your flushed face to focus on his playing. But it seemed his only flaw onstage was the utter perfection of his playing, which was almost maddening to you, and especially to Tommy, who saw you watching him quite intently. Brian tilted his neck back, a familiar sheen of sweat covering the expanse of its elegance, his fingers intuitively strumming as he watched you, followed your every gaze with a more intense one of his own. You found your eyes tracing the expanse of his legs, and then watching his fingers move, his forearms tensing from underneath an angelic shirt. You grabbed your boyfriend’s hand and squeezed, and he looked at you, almost relieved by the action. Brian was coy, biting his lip and raising his eyebrows, challenging you. He moved to the other side of the stage swiftly, bouncing over cords elegantly as he knelt down, holding his guitar flat as he strummed, eyeing some girls in the crowd that he would admittedly, never take home. But he wanted to test the waters, to see if you really were that blind. Couldn’t you see he was infatuated?

And sure enough, your gaze was fixed just on him, your ears ringing from the delay in Brian’s guitar, the piercing sound of his talent perfusing the room. Then, the concert ended, and you felt an emptiness pool in your stomach, pervade your thoughts. Brian gave you one last side-eyed glance, his lips pursed in something more akin to anger--not concentration. You tightened your grip on your boyfriend’s hand, convincing yourself this was his performance, a show he put on to keep people wanting more. But you couldn’t help but want so much more yourself. Whatever he was doing, it was working.

Brian hopped offstage a few minutes later, his face clean from the sweat, but his chest still heaving from the high. He talked to the professor, whose hand found his shoulder, giving it a solid pat as she congratulated him. The rest of the peers, Brian noticed, were suddenly changed; now they adored Brian, and a few girls from class hung onto his arm and fluttered their eyelashes, asking him about arbitrary musical things which they definitely had no desire in learning--they just watched his lips, beads of sweat falling over them. And you watched them too, admittedly. You tried to be conspicuous in your glances, but Brian caught your eye and smiled sweetly and innocently as Tommy pulled your arm for you two to leave.

As he got home, Brian’s thoughts were consistent. He was thinking about you--your hair, the way you laughed and intertwined your fingers with ones that weren’t his. How you stared at him--or maybe Roger?--so intently, so focused. The rest of the boys were at the bars still, probably pissed out of their minds like every night. But he sat at his desk, tapping a pen on the paper. The pen, to him, made it harder to start. He couldn’t make a mistake, and he needed to write about something unguarded, something completely true to his feelings, and the only thing he thought of that fit the bill was you. How you didn’t really see him. How you looked at him more like a subject than a person, how you turned your nose up and looked away when Brian stared. But also how reticent and ambiguous you were, teasing him with stolen glances--just a few. So his pen ran across the paper, sketching his thoughts distinctly.

He didn’t want to lose his chance with you--no matter how slim it was. He wrote until the sides of his hands were black from ink, and his fingers cramped, unable to form a legible letter no matter how hard he tried to. The morning sun crept through white curtains as he wrote the last line, scribbled and underlined and faded by a lack of ink.

So sad it ends

As it began

He folded the paper on his desk, and laid down, getting a few measly hours of rest.

Freddie burst through the door at nine AM, shaking Brian’s foot, which hung off the end of his bed. He was laying on his stomach, hugging his pillow, in his trousers, his hair awry.

“The studio awaits us!” Freddie clapped his hands together, poking Brian’s nose which barely poked out from the hair obscuring his face.

“Right now?” Brian whimpered, sitting up and rubbing his tired eyes.

“I don’t get up this early on purpose, sweetie. Now, did you write that song you promised us?” Freddie spun a globe which sat on Brian’s table, tracing his finger along the equator.

“Oh,” He thought for a second, still groggy. “I did, actually. Last night.”

“May I read it?” Freddie’s fingers plucked the folded paper on Brian’s desk, he assumed that was it.

“Go for it.” Brian put an old hoodie on, shoving his hands in his pocket.

Freddie’s face contorted in a multitude of emotions as he read the lyrics, and he sighed heavily as he finished. “Sad,” he nodded. “But, I love it. Quite honestly it’s nice.”

Brian smiled; it wasn’t too often that Freddie actually approved of a Brian May original.

The producer replayed the track, flipping a different switch, per Roger’s request.

“More drums at the end.”

Freddie scoffed, rolling his eyes, puffing a cigarette slowly. He pointed it at Roger, who yanked it from Fred’s grasp and puffed it himself.

“This isn’t a drummy song.” Freddie took the cigarette back, taking a deep drag.

“At some parts it should be!”

“It’s Brian’s song.” Deaky lit his own cigarette, leaning over the control panels to watch the producers work. “What do you think?”

Brian shrugged. “I think it could be a bit heavier with the drums at some part. Rog played really well today.”

Roger blew a kiss to Freddie, batting his eyelashes dramatically. “What did I say?”

The producer added stronger drums, a pen between his lips as he nodded at the enhanced sound, the beat dramatic. “I like it, guys. It’s a strong demo, and White Queen is only adding to the strength here.” He sent the band home with a few copies, almost translucent from overdubs and countless alterations.

The deadline had approached--Brian could tell by the nervous, forced banter between his peers, Their papers crinkling as they surreptitiously attempted to hide the content from the class--although they would all be presenting it soon. Brian flipped the demo in his hands, tracing his fingers over the sleeve, where Queen was written in deep blue marker, underlined with a tracklist underneath. The tension in the room was palpable as professor Lee strolled in, her usually straight hair barely curled, the gray strands glistening under the lights.

“The dreaded day.” She announced, sitting at her desk as she read over her roster, looking up at her class, awaiting, terrified. For the entire lecture, she called names randomly, summoning them to the front of the room, where they read bland poems in hushed, monotone voices. A few were good, but Brian wasn’t paying attention; he was shifting in his seat uncomfortably, feeling nauseous from his anxiety. She was torturing him, he was sure of it. They were running out of time, when she glanced up at him raising her palm up, a command for him to get up. He grabbed his record player from under his chair; it was wooden, a gift from his mother a long time ago.

“What is this setup?” She questioned, gesturing to him.

“My ballad is a song I wrote.” Brian set up the record player, his face flushing as he heard disapproving groans. You sat up in your chair, watching him as he took a small vinyl from its paper sleeve, setting it gently on the player. He placed the needle in the middle, and the bridge to Liar began to play, booming through the tiny speakers. “That’s not it.” Brian laughed nervously, looking up at Professor Lee; he was kneeling on the floor, trying to find the right place. When he did find it, soft, almost harp-like guitars flooded the room, and Brian stood up, leaning against a desk at the front, his arms crossed as he looked at his feet, not knowing what to do. He looked intently at you, hoping you’d understand it was all for you. The drums were enhanced, matching with Brian’s heartbeat, thumping, hard, and assuredly audible. Freddie’s voice was magnetic, and so were you. He was so drawn to you, and he didn’t know the first thing about you--what your major was, where you were from. He just had to have you, and he tugged his lip between his teeth as he shook the hair away from his eyes.

You watched him too, the way he was so obviously nervous, yet assured of his talent by the way he smirked almost inconspicuously as a particularly good lyric was sung, a guitar riff heard. His chest was red from a blush that crept up his entire body, his forearms looked strong under his sleeves which remained rolled up, despite his constant pulling at them. He was doe-eyed, his lips bitten and his skin tanned, his curls and waves extra defined. You couldn’t deny how attractive he was, and although it wasn’t him singing--he wasn’t even speaking-- it felt like he was singing to you, for you. You felt a shiver run up your spine, like when Brian’ touched you for the first time on that street corner, fleeting but so there. The song ended, and the class erupted into applause, whistling as Brian took the vinyl from the turntable, giving them a tight smile. He felt so vulnerable, but also like nobody got it.

“That was beautiful, Brian. Do you mind telling what it’s about?”

Brian faltered, but then stood up straight, sighing as he watched you scribbling in your notebook, feigning inattention at him. “I’m infatuated with a girl who doesn’t give me the time of day. The song is about our love that ended as it began, because she can’t see how much I want her.” Brian took his vinyl and record player from its position on a chair and gathered his things, embarrassed by his confession, although it was quite indirect. He left before she ended class officially, forgetting his bag completely.

You were confused; was he angry with you? Was he speaking to you? Picking up his heavy bag, you followed him out, as the rest of the class left along with you. You couldn’t find him among the crowd of students filing outside, mixed with the influx of students going to their noon classes. You pushed your way outside, trying to peer around the midday crowd of Londoners, when you saw Brian leaning against a van parked crookedly across the street. You walked to the other side, avoiding traffic and mumbling an apologetic excuse me to a middle-aged couple you bumped shoulders with. Brian’s face was in his hands, and he was now sitting in the driver’s seat of the van, looking distraught. You knocked on the window, pointing to his bag in your hands as he lifted his head up. His mouth pulled itself into a barely perceptible smile, his lips red from nervous biting. He reached over and unlocked the door, and you got in, without thinking, setting the bag between the driver’s and passenger’s seat. The tension was thick, even though the air was truly cold and thin and hard to breathe in.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He sniffled, clearing his throat a bit.

“You should really tell that girl how you feel. I’m sure she wants you just as much.” You looked at Brian’s profile, his tensed jaw peppered with day-old stubble, his lip protruding slightly.

He turned his head, looking at you almost sinfully. “I don’t think it’s possible for her to want me that much.” Brian had leaned forward again, and he looked at your lips blotted with a deep red lipstick. He wanted it all over him, he thought, tracing his gaze up your nose to look into your eyes. You could hear your hearts beating, and you felt unable to form a syllable, too focused on his eyelashes, which beat against his cheeks, almost innocent-looking.

“Maybe she does.” You retorted, and Brian tucked some of your hair behind your ear. His lips were millimeters away from your own now, and you could feel the edge of his bottom lip tickling yours, his breath ghosting over your mouth, down your chin.

“She has a boyfriend; I know that much.” Brian’s voice was deeper than you had ever heard it before; it was sultry and commanding you, like he did on stage, like he had been since the first day you met him.

“Not anymore.”

Brian held your chin, tracing your lips with his thumb as he sighed, his necklace hanging forward as he leaned closer--impossibly closer. You kissed the pad of his thumb, looking at him keenly as he kissed your jaw, biting your earlobe gently, teasingly, as he whispered in your ear.

“The back?” His fingers swept over the hem of your skirt, and your own brushed through his hair; it was softer than it looked, silky to the touch. You obliged, following him to the backseat, which was quite roomy and comfortable, a blanket thrown over the cushioned seats. Brian sat you on his lap, caressing the ends of your hair as he kissed at the junction of your collarbones, his hands resting on your hips, dragging down over your ass--just like your boyfriend did, just like he dreamt of doing. He squeezed and massaged at the exposed skin--he had bunched your dress around your waist as soon as he had you on his lap. Your fingers pulled at the extra-curly strands of hair at the nape of his neck, and he groaned deeply, sending a jolt to your core, which was lazily grinding against his cock, still restrained by dark velvet trousers. You tilted your head back, moaning as he left open-mouthed kisses at the base of your neck.

But you wanted his mouth on yours so bad your lips were quivering as they connected with Brian’s, which were anything but tentative as they sucked your bottom lip. Your nose was squished against his as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, now grinding yourself firmly against Brian’s cock, which was hardening. You could feel his thickness sliding against you, and your panties were beginning to soak at the feeling of him, the sounds of him groaning into your mouth. Your lipstick--like he had dreamt of so many night before--was all over his mouth, stained into his stubble, trailed down his neck. His hips bucked as your fingers fumbled with the button on his pants, you were almost unable to maneuver the metal button through the hole. But you got it, eventually, as he pulled your dress all the way over your head, rubbing at your clit through your wet underwear, his hips lifting so you could slide his pants down. They fell against the floor, and Brian lifted his foot out of one leg, using it to peel it from the other. You palmed his dick through his briefs and pulled his blazer off, rubbing your hands down the expanse of his chest, ridged and bony, as his nails dug into your hips, grabbing you desperately.

Now, you kissed his neck, sucking at a sensitive spot by his pulse point. He whimpered and threw his head back, rolling his hips faster, you kissing lower and lower on his neck before you reached his collarbones which jutted out from hot, barely freckled skin. He moaned loudly, begging you for more with his eyes, which were widened and dilated with desire.

“I’m so hard for you.” He whined, pushing your panties aside, sucking a finger into his mouth and prodding it inside of you, rubbing your clit with his calloused thumb. Your hips jerked as he added another finger--his middle one--which was so long and dexterous, massaging the front wall, deep inside of you as his thumb did the same languid motions to your clit.

You pulled at the elastic of his underwear, scratching your nails at his hips as you peeled them down his legs. He continued to finger you gently but quickly and skillfully, making you cry out at how good it felt to be full, to be lusted after like this. You spit in your hand, stroking his bare cock slowly, teasing him as your palm ghosted over his tip. You twisted your hand around the shaft, tracing your nails against the prominent vein which ran along it. It was pulsing under your touch, and Brian moaned in shallow breaths, bucking himself into your hand. You rubbed your thumb along the head and gathered a substantial amount of precum, sucking it off of your finger as your other hand squeezed at his balls.

That made him scream, and you shushed him, cupping his balls in one hand as you continued to jerk him off in the other. His hand squeezed at your ass, and you loosened your grip, reveling in the way he whined from the lack of friction on his aching member.

He took advantage of the lack of grip you had on him, curling his fingers deep inside of you, nudging at your g-spot, his mouth mirroring your own pleasure, before he leaned in to kiss you messily, your hands pulling at his hair in an attempt to get him closer. The touches were aching and so needy, your mouths interlocking, your breaths shared with one another.

“I need you,” He moaned against your neck, your hand lazily pumping him as he curled his fingers and rubbed at your clit loosely, the relaxed motion of it all making you grab at his wrist. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyelashes beating against the tops of his blushed cheeks. Then, Brian was pulling his fingers out, pushing them in between your lips. He flipped you over so he was hovering on top, resting on his knees as he sucked on the same fingers you had, making your back arch at the sight of his bitten lips savoring your taste.

You writhed underneath him as his cock slid against your entrance, his velvety tip rubbing against your clit softly. You ran your foot down his back, pushing at his ass with it, a silent bid for him to do what he wanted the most. “I don’t have a condom,” He rested his head against your neck, almost defeated.

“Just pull out, Brian.” You ground your hips upward, watching as his cock slid against your folds.

“Fuuck,” His eyes rolled back. “That’s so good. Feels so good.” He slid against you for a bit longer before he thrust into you, balls-deep. He stopped for a minute, his pelvic bone flush against your inner thighs. You gasped, and he did too, reveling in the feeling of being so deep inside of you.

“You’re so tight.” He mumbled, looking down at you through lashes barely covered with last-night’s mascara.

You just rolled your hips against him, yanking his face down to meet yours by his cold necklace, the chain tickling your sternum as his face hovered over your own. Your lips touched each other’s, your foreheads pressed together, soaked in a sheen of sweat. He pulled out, until his tip was barely inside of you before pushing all the way back in, making you gasp against his mouth that tasted like mint, and only faintly of gin. He thrusted slowly at first, pulling all the way out just to push right back in, making you feel every inch of him, every vein against your walls as his middle finger rubbed at your clit in tight, assured circles.

“Deeper.” You nod your head, urging him, before hooking your leg around his hip and pushing him into you, forcing him as deep as he could get. His breath hitched in his throat, and he lifted your hips up a bit, fucking into you at a new angle which is making you and him dizzy, your ears ringing from feeling all of him--all at once. Brian was unable to keep his eyes open as a strangled groan fell from his lips. He lifted your back, holding you to him as his thrusts became sloppier, his hips rolling unevenly. You pushed his hair back from his face, pressing a kiss to his mouth, his eyes unable to stay open for too long; his eyelids were so heavy.

He opened them enough to watch you fucking yourself against him, your hips rolling in tune with his own, his fingers digging into your hips; there were already purple bruises dotted along them. Brian opened his mouth, nodding as he gasped, his head buried in your neck as you pulled at his hair gently.

“I’m-” He groaned, now holding you by your waist, his lips idle against your collarbone.

“I know--me too.” You nodded, and he pulled out quickly, jerking himself off until his cum painted your stomach, oozing down your hips a bit. He caught it with his fingertips before it could ruin the seat, and you grabbed his hand, licking his seed off of his lengthy digits as he kissed down your torso, his nose resting against your clit as his tongue angled upwards to lick and suck at the nerves.

“Brian,” You whined, pulling his hair as he looked up at you innocently, his hips rocking against the velvety seat. He nibbled just barely at your clit, and you came, chanting his name, your back arching, your hands fisting at his hair. His chin was soaked and he sat up, looking down at his cock which was achingly hard, yet again.

His back was against the seat and you knelt in front of him, sucking him into your mouth, looking up at him through tear-soaked lashes. You licked a firm stripe from the base of him to the tip, and then he was groaning, cumming on his tensed stomach just from the look in your eyes that showed you wanted him too.

You helped him get dressed again, wordlessly pulling his briefs up, and then buttoning his pants while he did the same to his shirt. He handed you your dress, which was lodged between the seat cushions, wrinkled and cold. He pulled it down over your head and kissed your nose, zipping you up, pecking your shoulders while he did so.

You were tired, yawning against your hand as Brian climbed in the front seat, starting the engine after fishing his keys from his pocket, lifting his shaky hips for more leverage. He stroked your hair and gave you a cheeky, bashful smile--only funny because of his drastic duality which always surprised you.

“I hope this isn’t over.” He rubbed a circle on your bare knee, looking at the rearview window before pulling out of the parking spot with ease.

“It’s only just begun.” You held your hand over his and leaned your head against the window, the cold glass cooling your red-hot cheeks, still burning with arousal--but not even close to the scarlet that donned Brian’s cheeks, lifted by a huge, toothy smile.

Taglist: @silencedleviathan @alexfayer @ledger-kaos @ma-ntequilla @discodeakky @richiethotzierz @thisloveisreal1 @heartsarecompatible @thelondondreamer5 @brian-may-brian-may @okqueenie @gailymlee @trickster-may @bubblypenguin123 @queensdarlingg @soloosunflower @dvndermifflinassociate @fredthelegend @miez-lakatz @arrowswithwifi @mouse507 @mespetitestortues @yourstateofdreaming @pamoreno @helenathe3rd @allie-of-asgard @deacytits @hystericallyqueen @xilann (message me if you want to be added to my taglist!)

#brian may #brian may smut #brian may fanfic #queen #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #smut #fanfic #john deacon #gwilym lee #joe mazzello #freddie mercury #rami malek #ben hardy #roger taylor #fanfiction #angst

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shawnpetermuffins · 5 years

Text

Pictured with You (v.)

A/n: this is where it starts getting good, y'all.

Summary: a couple drinks lead to a few shots which lead to questionable actions.

Warnings: maybe a little sexual??

Word count: 2.1k

***

She's drunk. Maybe not hammered, but drunk nonetheless. She's stumbling over her own two feet, meaning I can't be more than an arms length away from her in case she starts to hurl forward or backward, which wouldn't be ideal either way. The floor in front of her is sticky with spilled drinks, and the bar behind her back is littered with dirty napkins and empty shot glasses. I'm sipping lightly at the beer in my hands when I feel her, rather than see her, get out of the stool she was sitting on.

"Shawn!" She exclaims, hand wrapping firmly around my forearm. I place my hand over hers to keep her still. Her skin is overwhelmingly warm compared to its usual arctic temperature. (I probably shouldn't know that, but as I've very obviously pointed out to myself and Brian I'm infatuated with her and her whole being. She consumes my senses, not that I can admit that to her; she'd bolt in a second.)

I chuckle though, to cover up the fact that I'm, no doubt, staring at her. "What's wrong, honey?"

She close, too close, Andrew would say, but sitting here, nursing my third beer and a little buzz, I don't think she's close enough.

"I took a picture of you last night," she giggles and it's only now that it hits me that she might be a lightweight. "And ohmygod! You looked s'hot!" Her eyes roll back with an inaudible hum (mostly because I can hardly hear anything over the music that's getting louder by the second.)

"How many drinks have you had?" I ask through a laugh.

"Just two," she's leaning her head on my shoulder now and I look over to the back of the club where our friends are sitting. "But I may have had three tequila shots," I hear her mumble into my neck. Connor is looking down at his phone, which I'm oddly grateful for. But Brian's smirking, making obscene gestures with his hands and I just shake my head at him, turning my attention back to the beautiful girl that has somehow ended up in my lap.

"Whoa! Hi," I bite my lip, looking at her flushed skin.

"Your eyes are my favorite thing," she slurs.

I can feel my cheeks get hot from more than just the alcohol in my system. Your lips are mine, I think to myself. "I'm glad you like them."

"We should doashot together," she beams.

"I think you might have had enough shots," I say through a soft laugh and a final swig of my beer and setting it behind us.

"C'mon! Please?" She begs, cradling my face with her small hands. I playfully bite at her fingertips when they trace over my mouth and she finds it way too hilarious in her current, less than sober state.

And her smile does too many things to me that I can't deny her, so I nod. "Okay, let's bring a couple rounds to the guys, yeah?"

Her smile is radiant, it fills me with so much warmth, and I know that it's not gravity keeping me on earth. It's her. So when she's pulling back to our friends with a tray of twelve shots in my other hand, I can't help but follow. Because wherever she's going, I want to be right there with her.

"Shots!" She exclaimed, plopping down next to Brian.

Connor looks up, and I watch him glance from the small glasses, to y/n, to me, and then to where her hand is now resting on my thigh. I place my hand over hers, my glare never faltering.

"Y/n, look at me real quick," he says and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. We've not been here two minutes and he's already dying to take her attention away from me. I internally scream when it works, her hand leaving my leg.

His eyes scan her face in a curious fashion. "How many have you had?"

"Why? Are you my father?" She asks, gently shoving a shot glass in his hand and then giving one to Brian as well.

"Y/n," he says sternly and she sighs.

"Two drinks and three," with a mischievous grin she tilts her head back and swallows the shot in her hand, quickly reaching for the lime attached to the rim. "Make it four shots."

"I think we should stop there, yeah?" I don't know what his deal is tonight, but he's being even more territorial than usual and to say it's severely pissing me off is an understatement.

"I think…" she hiccups and lets out a soft giggle, putting the empty glass down. "I think you should stop worryingabout me, and focus on your lack of buzz. Because full offense, but you're kinda ruining mine."

Brian and I can't help but laugh at that and we both quickly take our shots, the familiar liquor buring only slightly as it goes down.

She's leaning into me, my arm wrapped around her shoulders as she scrolls through Instagram, mindlessly liking a picture here and there. I press featherlike kisses to her scalp every so often, most of them earning a grunt or eye roll from Connor. And I'll be honest, he's a lot less fun when he's, one, not on everyone else's level of "drunk". And two, when he's trying to steal my girl from me.

Well… my future girl, I guess.

We're all sitting in this booth, a final round of shots in front of us, but no one is reaching for them. Until y/n does, getting a side eye from Connor that she expertly ignores. "Can we try something?" She asks me over the music. I can see the way her eyes are blown wide while she looks at me and I wonder if I look the same to her.

"What's that, hon?" Brian is paying us no attention, too focused on a tall blonde near the bar. But I can feel Connor staring us down as she gets closer, shifting herself into my lap.

I grunt in surprise when she settles herself on me. "Hold this in your mouth," she slurs, fingers tracing my jaw, my skin burning at the contact.

"Okay, and then what?"

"I'm gonna take it from you," she smiles shyly, resting forehead against mine, blocking my view from anyone or anything else around me, not that I wanted to focus on anything but her.

"You sure?"

She nods against me and I tilt my head back.

"Okay, put it in my mouth," I say with a wicked smirk.

She hums and taps at my bottom lip, begging me to open. I do and she gently sets the full glass against my tongue.

"Ready?" She asks and I give a thumbs up. It happens quickly, her mouth on mine only for a second as she sucks the cup into her mouth, swallowing the harsh liquor. But then the glass falls from her lips and lands between our bodies and I press my lips against hers again, in a desperate, needy kiss that leaves her moaning against me. Giving me the ultimate chance to roam her mouth, and I revel in the way tequila tastes off her tongue - it tastes better this way, if you ask me.

Her hands are holding my shoulders tightly as she pulls away with a pant. "I'll be right back," she whispers against my swollen lips and gets off me, stumbling a bit as she makes her way quickly across the bar into the little corridor where the bathrooms are.

I chuckle and put our empty shot glass on the table, avoiding the deathly glare coming from my videographer.

Brian claps my shoulder, a shit-eating grin covering his features. "You going after her?"

I don't even think about it, I just nod and start to follow the path I saw her take just moments ago. But I'm quickly stopped. "Shawn, wait."

I turn around with an irritated growl, "What?"

"Don't do this. You promised Andrew you wouldn't."

"Connor, I mean this in the best possible way, but fuck off. You've been staring us down all night, keeping us apart for even longer. We're attracted to each other, get over it. I don't tell you how to live your life, what give you the right to tell me how to live mine?"

"I don't want to see her get hurt, Shawn. You're not around enough to keep her happy."

I scoff, "and you are?"

He cowards back, "I don't- it's not like that with her."

"Yeah," I roll my eyes, "I'm sure it's not. Excuse me," I turn back around, trying to make my way through the crowd without bumping into too many people.

The music is much softer here, and I press my ear to the door of the girls' bathroom, hearing the water from a faucet run. So I knock on the door.

"Just a second!" That beautiful voice yells back.

"Y/n/n, it's Shawn." The lock clicks and she stands there for a second, looking dumbfoundedly at me.

"What are you-?" But she doesn't finish because I push myself into the horribly lit bathroom, locking the door behind me. And then I have her on the counter, legs wrapped around my waist with my lips trailing not so innocent kisses down the column of her neck and biting lavishly into her shoulder and collar bone.

"Shawn?" She moans out, hands sifting through my hair, but it sounds like a question. So I pull away enough to gaze up at her through my lust filled eyes.

"Hmm?"

"What are we doing? We shouldn't do this."

"But I want to," my finger traces the bare skin of her lower back. "Don't you?" I ask, dipping my head into the crook of her neck and peppering it with kisses.

She hums, "It'll get back to Andrew."

I cringe at the sound of his name coming up for the second time in just minutes. "I don't care," I say, because I don't. "I want you." I tongue at the shell of her ear and she lets out an obscene moan when my teeth press down on the sensitive skin. "Come back to my room tonight."

"I can't," she says defeatedly, pushing me away.

I want so badly to question her. To beg her to come with me. But I don't. I just nod and help her off the sink. "I want to," she says when I reach for the door handle.

"But?"

"I can't risk losing you," she says, placing a soft kiss on my cheek before leaving the bathroom first.

---

We're all drunkenly walking down the hall to our respective rooms. I wait until I see y/n close her door to hide away in my room for the rest of the night.

I strip out of my sticky clothes - my hoodie smelling partially like tequila now - and let the shower run, hoping the warm water will sober me up some. But standing under the shower head with my hands running roughly through my sudsy hair, I can only think of one thing. Y/n. And how I wish she was the one here washing my hair. I don't care if this was all we did. I don't care if we ended the night having never touched each other. I just wanted her here. Wanted her with me.

And I think that's why I call her when I'm out, dressed in sweatpants and another hoodie, the red one that she claims looks really good in pictures.

"Hi," she answers softly.

"Hi… are you in bed?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Can you come over?"

"Shawn," she sighs and it makes me weak.

"Please? Just want to see you. Maybe cuddle?"

"Just cuddle?" She says after an agonizing amount of silence.

"If that's all you want."

I know the wheels are turning in her brain, "okay." There's shuffling on her side, and when i hear the click of a door I jump from bed and rush to mine, opening it right as shes about to knock. We both laugh lightly and she hangs up the phone. I shove mine in the pocket of my sweats and smile down at her. Her hair is down and damp, face bare of any trace of makeup she was sporting no more than thirty minutes ago. And she's in this old My Chemical Romance (rip) shirt and leggings. I swear she looks even better now than I've ever seen her.

I clear my throat and move to the side for her. "Hi. Come in."

Her smile ruins me as she walks into the room, and I wonder how I'll make it if all we're doing is cuddling.

***

Tags: @curlyshawny @shawns-badreputation @anamariel2301 @turtoix @tomshufflepuff @ivegotparticulartaste @dino-16-avocado @sleepybesson

PWY tags: @lifeoftheparty74 @alinaxxshawn @rosesfromcth @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @5-seconds-of-mendes @sweetheartmendes @shawnwyr @strangerliaa

I hope you're all liking it!! See you Wednesday with chapter 6!

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#pictured with you #shawn mendes #shawn peter raul #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes smut #smfsource

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writing-of-a-british-bitch · 5 years

Text

The Fairy King- Chapter 8

Fandom: Queen/Borhap

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Queen X reader/ It’s a surprise, x reader

TW: sabotage, angst, wow roger is being used.

Genre: Fantasy. (Labyrinth AU)

Series: The Fairy King

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/n: wow I'm really doing Roger DIRTY. Also, would any of you be interested if I did a Halloween fic or mini-series????

“I am not your friend. I just came to get my property back. And, um, give you…” Roger carefully pulled the peach from his pocket, nervously glancing at it before instantly hiding it as (Y/N)’s head turned to look at him.

“Give me what?” Suddenly, once again, the stones beneath their feet crumbled but unfortunately, this time they couldn’t catch their bearings, and the pair plummeted down, only narrowly missing the cliff’s edge and falling on top of a curly-haired figure. A pained groan escaped Brian’s lips as (Y/N) and Roger clambered off of him.

“Brian, I’m so sorry! Jesus! Are you okay?” (Y/N) exclaimed, reaching down to help Brian up. The brunette placed a hand on her waist to steady himself.

“Yeah, fine, fine. I was trying to find-” He cut himself off upon seeing Roger, his normally soft face contorting into a snarl and Roger glared. “Just trying to find you.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t need to. I found her May, so you might as well just leave,” Roger snapped, burning daggers onto Brian’s hand that lay upon (Y/N)’s waist.

“Alright, mate, calm yourself,” Brian growled as he turned back to the woman beside him “What happened to you after I fell through that hole? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Brian, thank you. I think I might’ve started a war, though,” She stated, eyeing Roger and Brian curiously, wondering as to why they were so spiteful with one another

“Whatever do you mean?” Brian asked, his eyebrows knitting together and Roger rolled his eyes, strolling over with his arms folded over his chest.

“She stumbled across the white and black queens. They were making a peace treaty and she fell right in front of them. Perhaps they were fighting because one of them couldn’t keep their hands where they belong,” At that, Roger shoved Brian’s hand away from (Y/N) and Brian narrowed his eyes.

“The white and black queens?” (Y/N) questioned, ignoring Roger’s outburst.

“All you need to know is that when the White Queen walks, the night grows pale,” Roger huffed.

“You could at least give her a proper explanation Taylor,” Brian said sharply.

“Ladies, ladies, you’re both beautiful. In case you've forgotten, I’m on a time limit here, so can either of you show me how to get to that damned tower,” (Y/N) stated, annoyance lingering on her tongue at the bickering.

“Alright, alright. This way,” Roger began walking towards a stone bridge that was barely visible through the darkness and fog and with a slight reluctance, Brian and (Y/N) followed after him. The trio soon reached the bridge after a few stumbles, in which either Brian or Roger caught the girl, due to the uneven flooring. However, as the group attempted to cross the moss-covered bridge, a certain poofy haired guard jumped out in front of them from god knows- king knows where.

“Hold there! My name is John and I guard this bridge and I dare ask who goes there!” Deacon exclaimed, pointing his now-drawn sword and pointing it at them.

“C’mon Deaky, cut the crap, it’s just us,” Roger grumbled and Deaky’s face relaxed but his sword didn’t move an inch.

“It may only be you, but this bridge may not be crossed without my permission,” Deaky shot back instantly, his form still tense and ready to attack if they dared cross him.

“Oh for king’s sake, Deaky! You’ve let me and Rog across before!” Brian sighed, pinching his nose. (Y/N) was still taken aback by the sword pointing at her, processing the situation slowly as she stepped back to Roger’s side, and the man in question wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Yes, but that was with my permission! This bridge can’t be crossed without my permission!” The poofy haired soldier repeated. Brian mumbled something under his breath as he went to push Deaky out of the way, but the soldier was quicker, pushing the long-legged man backwards so his back hit a tree. “Final warning, May.”

Brian chuckled bitterly before opening his hand and aiming it at the guard, a bright green light flashing from it and knocking Deaky’s sword from his hand and into the ditch of ogre territory. Deaky scowled at the wizard as a distant clatter sounded from the pit beside them and he launched at Brian, landing a punch to his cheek. There was a fire in Brian’s eyes but (Y/N) had little time to focus on it as Roger ripped away from her and sprinted over the bridge, far away from the conflict. (Y/N) called after him in desperation as the fight continued on behind her and she felt her heartbeat speed up as she was filled with rage and shame. She trusted him again and he betrayed her again. She cursed herself for being so trusting. He was a coward and he would always be a coward. During her bombardment of thought, she hadn’t noticed Brian pining Deaky down with his magic and the pair agreeing on a truce. She snapped back to reality by Brian gently pulling her arm.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” Brian said softly, noticing the way she watched Roger run off with a sad look hidden behind her eyes.

“Stop! Just because we called a truce doesn't mean you can pass without my permission!” Deaky remarked though he watched the pair with suspicion, seeing the way Brian kept reaching to touch her but she seemed distracted by Roger, though he was most definitely long gone.

“Well, can we have your permission?” (Y/N) questioned, raising an eyebrow, trying to distract herself from any thought of Roger.

“I- Well, I suppose so, yes,” Deaky answered, looking down as if he was confused by his own response before stepping aside “My lady.”

(Y/N) shot him a grin that made his cheeks warm and she walked past him onto the rickety bridge. As she stepped onto it, it shook and quivered, creaking under her feet and Brian stayed with Deaky, watching nervously. She dared not to look down, not wanting to see the unpleasantness that came with the sight of the ogre territory.

“Have no fear, sweet maiden, this bridge has lasted for over 1,000 years!” Deaky tapped the bridge with his hand but that simple movement seemed to basically turn the bridge to paper as it shattered underneath her. The girl let out a scream of terror and reached out, grasping onto a towering branch from a tree, though the group knew it wouldn’t last long. (Y/N) let out a desperate cry for Roger, knowing that he’d find a way to get her out of this. Brian couldn’t help but feel jealousy. Roger had left her behind countless times yet he was the one she always called for. Deaky was looking around frantically for something to save her but Brian merely rolled his eyes and brought out his hand. Slowly, large boulders rose from the blackness below and formed a line where the bridge used to be, hovering in the air and allowing (Y/N) to let go of the branch with a sigh of relief. She grinned at Brian in thanks before jumping on each boulder to reach the other side. One by one, Brian and Deaky followed after the girl and Brian frowned upon seeing Roger jogging back to them. (Y/N) shot him a glare but it was as clear as day to Brian that she was happy about his return.

“Let’s get out of here,” She ordered, grimacing as she peered over the cliff to look at the ogres, roaming around, clubbing anything that got in their way. Deaky, Brian and (Y/N) kept going, heading for whatever kind of exit they could find, but Roger lingered just behind them, examining the peach in his hand. He didn’t want to give it to her. He couldn’t give it to her. A part of him was tempted to run away again so he could get her away from the peach. Or… he could throw it into the ogre battle… Quietly, Roger bent down and dangled the peach over the edge, but a booming voice took him by surprise and halted his movements.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Freddie’s distorted voice filtered into the air and Roger glanced around to see if any of the others had noticed.

“Oh, please. I can’t give it to her,” It was the first time Freddie had heard the pixie beg and his eyebrows shot up in surprise, though a laugh escaped his lips, causing his ballroom to erupt in mocking laughter. And despite his begging, Roger knew he had no choice. Freddie had him tied to a string. Exactly where he wanted him.

“C’mon, this way, we’ll reach the castle much before your time is up!” Deaky encouraged, though he could see the fatigue on (Y/N)’s face. She’d been travelling all day, had faced countless physical and mental challenges and yet she still kept a brave face. Roger stumbled after the group, purposely dragging his feet, hoping the group would continue on and leave him to get lost. But that damned girl kept stopping to wait for him with that damn smile and kind eyes.

“I’m hungry, wish I’d stopped by that fruit tree is I saw earlier,” Brian complained, running a hand through his curls to try and distract himself from his increasing hunger. (Y/N) nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, me too, Bri. But we can’t stop now. Maybe we can find some berries or something along the way,” She pondered out loud, pausing to look around as Brian and Deaky continued on, reluctantly engaging in a conversation.

“Uh, (Y/N), here,” Roger offered the peach to her but looked away. He couldn’t bear to meet her gaze. Not after what he’d done.

“Oh, Roger! Thank you! You’re a lifesaver!” She took a bite of the fruit and Roger flinched at the noise, letting out a sigh of disappointment. Not in her, but in himself. Her eyes began growing heavy and she looked down at the peach “This tastes strange.” She then looked around, clearly growing more confused by the second, and Roger took a few steps back “Roger, what have you done?”

“Oh! Damn you, Freddie!” Roger took off in the opposite direction and (Y/N) vaguely heard him say “And damn me too,” Before she began to feel dizzy and sunk to the floor. A vision filled her mind- she saw Freddie leaning out a window, blowing four crystal balls into the air. Then it all faded to darkness.

TELL ME IF I FORGOT TO TAG ANYONE!”

TAGS: OPEN

Tags (for this series): @loveandbeloved29 @sam-mercurry-sixx@sunflower-borhap-boys @bouncingjoe @lets-go-panic-at-discos@storiesandcelestialbodies @everything-you-dont-wanna-be @sincereleygmg@mirkwoodshewolf@queendeakyy@sprinkle-covered-leeks @ikbenplant @queen-paladin@scarlettequinn@simonedk @royalblueviper @seven-seas-of-bitch

Tags: @writingfortoomanyfandoms @metaphorical-love-for-a-car@queens-n-roses @freaky-dcaky@yourealegendfred@fierce-bab@dusthas-beenbitten @bensroger@strangeandwonderfulconcepts@babebenhardy@benhardyjones @silvver-rose @psychosupernatural

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metaphorical-love-for-a-car · 5 years

Text

Angry Chihuahuas-- Roger Taylor x Reader

Request; “reader comes home from work one day to Roger trashing the place in one of his famous short-tempered, impulsive outbursts after an argument with one of the guys in which some comments/insults made crossed a line and genuinely upset him and reader calms him down” ( @fatbottomedboi )

Warnings; language

Word Count; 2.4k (whoops got a bit carried away lol)

Notes; I originally had a gif of Roger, but then I remembered this one and thought that it was appropriate for the fic

The boys were almost always off in the studio, working on their newest album. With all the hard work they were putting into it, you had no doubt that it would be amazing. You knew how they could be, always bickering about something or another, so you figured that you would pick up a pizza and some wine for dinner. You knew that Roger was bound to be tired and stressed, and you wanted him to have a relaxing night at home.

As you neared the front door, balancing the pizza box in your hand and cradling the bottle of wine in your arm, you dug your keys from your pocket. You were about to stick them into the door when you heard a loud crash. Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach. Possibilities ran through your mind. What if someone broke in? What would you do? A muffled thud sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a shout. You frowned, recognizing the voice.

You slowly opened the front door, bracing yourself for whatever damage had been done. A bookshelf had been dumped over, and its contents littered the floor. Roger hadn’t noticed you come in. He was pacing like a caged animal, hands in his hair and muttering under his breath. He finally turned on his heel and disappeared into the bedroom. You sighed and made your way into the kitchen to put away the food. You flinched at the sound of something shattering. You had seen one of his tantrums before, but he had gotten better at controlling his temper. It had been a good while since he had an outburst this bad.

When you walked out of the kitchen, you found Roger kneeling beside the broken shelf. He gathered up some of the books that were on the floor, pushing aside the wooden fragments. He was muttering to himself again, and you managed to catch the tail end of what he was saying. “You’re so fuckin’ stupid. Why are you always ruining-” His voice cracked. Roger brought a hand to his mouth and bit one of his knuckles as if he was trying to keep himself from crying.

“Hey, hey,” you whispered, quickly making your way to his side. “It’s okay, love. You’re okay.” Roger looked at you with wide eyes that were full of tears.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up again. I’m so sorry. I-” You shushed him before pulling him into an embrace. He desperately clung to you, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“It’s alright.” You lightly traced random shaps on his back. “They’re just objects that can be replaced. We can always get new ones, yeah?” Roger slowly nodded. “I brought home some pizza and wine. How about we eat and when you’re ready, we’ll talk about what’s got you all worked up. Sound good?” Roger leaned back in order to look you in the eye. The corner of his lips twitched upward in the smallest of a smile. You flashed him an encouraging grin and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “You’ve got the cutest little nose, did you know that?” Roger rolled his eyes with a scoff, and his smile faintly grew. You glanced down and noticed he was hiding one of his hands from your view. Narrowing your eyes at him, you held out an open palm. Roger avoided your gaze as he placed his scratched-up hand into yours. You sighed. “What happened?”

“I... uh... may or may not have broken the mirror in the bathroom.” A tinge of pink spread across Roger’s cheeks. The poor boy was embarrassed. You pursed your lips and nodded.

“Alright, then. Let's get you cleaned up so we can enjoy our dinner.”

The two of you ate in the kitchen since the living room was a mess. Neither of you spoke much, save for the occasional boring comment about the day, such as “weather has been nice” or “my coworker was an ass today.” It had taken him a while to finally open up about what had caused him to lash out, but you didn’t mind. The last thing you wanted to do was push him. Roger was clearly shaken up, and you wanted to help him in whatever way you could. Sometimes that simply means just being there for them.

You sipped on your glass of wine, eyeing him carefully. He was staring off into space and kept opening then closing his mouth. “Take your time, love. Whenever you’re ready,” you softly told him before placing a hand on his shoulder. Roger nodded, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Expressing the things that went on in his mind was never a strong suit of his. He chewed on his lip for a moment. Finally, he began to tell you what happened.

The boys were trying to smooth out some of the kinks in one of their new songs, but they could hardly agree on anything. “It sounds like shit,” Roger grumbled, twirling a drumstick between his fingers. He was sprawled out on a sofa. Deacy nodded in agreement. Freddie muttered under his breath before scribbling something down on a piece of paper.

“Yeah, wonder whose fault that is,” Brian scoffed. Deacy tensed, knowing that a cat-fight was about to break out. Roger sat up and grimaced at Brian.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you’re not the easiest person to work with.”

“Fuck off, Brian.”

“Look at you, getting all defensive. You know I’m right.”

“Alright, ladies. Let’s not stir anything else up,” Freddie droned. The other two just ignored his comment.

“You’re not exactly sunshine and daisies either!” Brian opened his mouth, but Deacy interrupted him.

“Neither of you are easy to work with. Can we move on now?” Brian rolled his eyes, plopping down into a nearby chair.

“I’m just saying that we probably would have been finished with the song by now if it wasn’t for Roger’s screw-ups.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. I’m-So-Much-Better! We can’t all be fucking perfect.”

“Brian, you made a few mistakes yourself, so don’t get all high and mighty on us,” Freddie quipped. Brian crossed his arms with a huff.

“Of course, you’d take his side.” Freddie furrowed his brows.

“There aren’t any ‘sides.’ I’m just trying to get you two to stop bitching and get on with it!”

“Yeah, Brian. Stop bitching already,” Roger parrotted.

“Honestly, I don’t know how they do it.” Deacy pinched the bridge of his nose. Freddie raised a brow at him. Deacy rolled his eyes before addressing the two that were still bickering. “Surely, you two don’t always act like children? Because you’re both married, and I don’t understand how they put up with the likes of you.”

“I don’t, but I can’t say the same for Rog.” Roger glared daggers at Brian. “I don’t see how (Y/N) puts up with him either. Honestly, I didn’t expect the two to last this long.” Roger got to his feet in an instant. Freddie and Deacy shared a worried glance.

“Alright, Brian, that’s-” Brian plowed through Freddie’s warning.

“I’m just shocked! I mean, given Roger’s track record on trying to keep a stable relationship, I figured they would have fallen out by now. Probably won’t be long before he completely screws it up. It’s what he always does. (Y/N) should just leave before they get hurt.” Roger saw red and started towards Brian. Deacy and Freddie were quick to stop him.

“Fuck you, Brian! You’re not a saint either. Does Chrissy know about Anita? All those secret little rendezvous?” Roger shouted. Brian got to his feet.

“Oh, you want to play it like that, huh? I could make a list of names from your experiences.”

“Shove your list up your ass! That was before I met, (Y/N).”

“But I bet that doesn’t stop them from worrying. The seed’s already been planted in their mind, Rog. They’ll never really trust you.” Roger shook his head. His eyes were stinging, but he wouldn’t give Brian the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

“You’re a fucking ass, Brian. Maybe you and Prenter should shack up. Seems like you’d make a perfect couple,” Roger spat. Brian looked offended at his statement. Roger wrenched himself from Freddie and Deacy’s grasp, purposefully knocking over a nearby stack of papers.

“There he goes, letting his temper get the best of him, as per usual,” Brian snapped. With a shout, Roger grabbed a nearby chair and launched it across the room. He didn’t see what it hit, but he heard a loud crash. Roger stormed out of the studio, slamming the door behind himself.

Your jaw dropped. The band had fought before, but they had never been this bad. Cupping his face in your hands, you stared into his big, blue eyes. “Roger, I love you so much. Yes, I know your reputation, but that was a thing of the past. I know you’ve grown and matured. I also know that you love me, and because of that, I never have to worry about you.” You peppered his face with kisses. He smiled, placing his hands over your own. “As much as I’m enjoying this tender moment with you, you have a mess to clean up in the bathroom.” Roger gave a dramatic groan. He gave you the saddest puppy-dog eyes, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Right now? Do I have to?”

“Yes because I need to get a shower tonight.” You wiggled your eyebrows, and Roger immediately perked up. You laughed at his reaction. “Is that enough incentive for you to clean your mess up?” Roger smiled before stealing a quick kiss.

“More than.” As he started to walk off, you smacked his backside, earning a playful glare from Roger. You snorted and watched him disappear into the other room.

You quickly dashed over to the telephone, dialing up Freddie. You told him that you were planning to hold an intervention and to call Deacy to fill him in. Freddie was wary, considering how the day had been thus far, but he agreed to help after hearing your plan. You chewed on your lip as you dialed Brian’s number, hoping that it would all work out. “Hello?” Brian’s voice crackled through the receiver.

“Hello, Space Boy! I’m planning a little get-together with the boys at our place. You know, pizza and booze, the usual,” you chirped.

“Well... I, uh...” He seemed surprised at your request. “When?”

“Tonight.”

“Oh, (Y/N), I don’t think that’s a-”

“Please, Bri? It’s my birthday!” you lied. “I’d hate to not get to spend some time with my favorite boys on my birthday.” He sighed. After a moment of silence, Brian begrudgingly agreed. “Great! See you in an hour.” Roger emerged just in time to see you hang up the phone. He snaked an arm around your waist.

“Who was that, love?”

“Uh, just called someone to help us haul out the old shelf.” Roger nodded, satisfied with your answer.

It was getting close to the time for the boys to show up. You were a little nervous, but you assured yourself that between you, Freddie, and Deacy, you’d be able to handle it. In order to distract Roger, you sent him on a bit of a goose chase. You asked him to find your “favorite” pair of socks because your feet were cold. Of course, the socks you described were nonexistent, but it would keep him busy for the next couple of minutes.

You practically flung yourself at the door when someone knocked on it. You took a deep breath and put on your best poker face before opening it. “Hello, boys,” you greeted coolly. Their eyes widened as they entered, assessing the damages. Once they were all inside, you slammed the door shut and locked it. “No one in, and no one out. Roger, come here, please.” Brian looked confused, while Freddie and Deacy were bracing themselves for another fallout. When Roger stepped through the bedroom doorway, he froze. Scowling, he wagged a finger at Brian.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’ here?” Roger shouted, already going red in the face. If this was a cartoon, steam would be coming out of his ears.

“Rog, darling, you need to calm down before your head explodes,” Freddie quipped. Brian crossed his arms, looking between the three of you and Roger.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your partner?" Roger’s expression darkened.

“Wha’s that supposed to mean, then?”

“Everybody can it before another-” Deacy started. Brian scoffed.

“They lied about it being their birthday in order to get me over here!” Roger’s jaw clenched, and he was about to say something before you beat him to it.

“Shutup! Both of you! Now, sit down so we can get this sorted out. You two are stupid if you think I’m gonna sit around and watch you ruin your friendship.” You placed your hands on your hips and turned to face Brian. “I lied to you to get you over here because we’re having an intervention.” You glanced over your shoulder at the other two. “Freddie, did you bring it?” He nodded and held up a brown, paper bag. “Good.” You eyed Brian and Roger. “Well, what are we waiting for? Sit down, and sit next to each other.”

They glared at each other but did as instructed. Freddie pulled out a large lump of cloth. Deacy smiled mischievously, causing Brian and Roger to get worried. The three of you managed to get it untangled and presented it to the other two. They weren’t amused. Roger wrinkled his nose. “‘Our get along sweater’?” You nodded.

“Yep, had it made a long time ago. Knew it would come in handy with you three toddlers running about. Thanks for letting me stash it at your place, Fred.”

“Any time, darling. Now, let’s get them all dolled up, shall we?” Freddie excitedly clapped his hands. He helped you and Deacy put the giant, two-person sweater on Brian and Roger, who made sure that their complaints were heard. After several minutes of struggling, you stepped back to examine your work. Deacy grabbed the camera he had brought, snapping a few photographs.

“Perfect! Now that you two are all cozied up, we can begin our group therapy session, beginning with Freddie.”

“It all started when I was a child,” he began wistfully. Roger and Brian groaned dramatically. Your smile widened. Maybe next time they’ll choose their words carefully.

Tag List; @mothermercuryy @mmmmmitslikeadiseaseson @loveofmychips

#if you got the supernatural reference then i love you #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #queen #queen x reader #queen imagines #queen one shot #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody x reader #bohemian rhapsody imagine #ben hardy! roger taylor #ben hardy! roger taylor x reader #ben hardy x reader

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