#Did I overdo the floof?

[snowlyx]

Almost the Triple S Trio

team Dark is now complete. I included Silver, now it’s the two “fakers”.

Silver’s weed head gave me issues but I think I got the hang of it.

Shadow’s rocket shoes also gave me issues, so did his hair spines. I gave him gloves more akin to his Boom counterpart because they kinda look cool, but also because lore surrounding my au. He has markings that are hidden, they came from his alien daddy.

I gave Silver this shawl thing. I tried to give him an innocent pose.

[jessahmewren]

“i didn’t know it could be like this” Chapter 5: Tea /Queen /Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | 7 | 8 |  9 | 10

Summary:  Tea with Benefits plus soft poly feels

Rated E: Everyone be aware here be smut

Chapter 5 of ?

Pairings: Brian May/Roger Taylor, Brian May/Freddie Mercury, (it’s Poly Ya’ll)

Words: 2783

Also on AO3

tagging @another-random-girl​ and @morewyckedthanyou​

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“I like him.” 

Roger silked through John’s hair, humming softly in that high voice he knew he liked so well.  They were up early for a Sunday, their only day off.  The morning sun was sifting through the curtains, washing them in a warm glow. 

“Like who?” Roger intoned quietly, his fingers still raking gently through John’s hair.  He was propped on an elbow, face painted in golden light. 

“Freddie,” John whispered.  He looked up quickly to meet Roger’s eyes, tongue snaking out nervously to wet his lips.

“Freddie from the club?  The bloke who visits you?”  Roger was grinning mischievously, and John pushed on his bare chest, nearly making him fall over. 

“Don’t make this any harder than it is, you twat.”

Roger huffed a laugh, his hand in John’s hair still and waiting. 

John raised up, rolling partway to meet him.  “Well aren’t you going to say something?” 

Roger just smiled, the hand in John’s hair traveling down to caress his face.  “I know you like him, love.  He likes you, too.” 

John’s face fell, a deep frown creasing his forehead.  “But what—what does that mean for us?”

Roger swept his thumb over the full bottom lip as if he could wipe away the frown.  “Oh Deaky.  Do you love me?” 

John’s eyes lit, suddenly wet and sparkling in the morning light.  He held Roger’s face in his hands.  “More than anything Roggie.  More than anything in this world.” 

“Then it doesn’t mean anything…not for us.”

John looked up at him with large eyes.  “So, you’re ok with it?” 

Roger kissed him, sweet and slow.  “Of course.”  He blushed a little.  “Besides, Brian and I like each other too.” 

John laughed, biting at his lip.  He let his forehead fall comfortably against Roger’s, feeling the warmth of his skin against his.  Roger was his, and he was Roger’s, but could they belong to someone else?

---

Brian had cleaned the flat twice.  The couch and throw pillows had been fluffed and the rug had been vacuumed.  The small kitchen gleamed and smelled of lemon.  Just as Brian was making the rounds again with a feather duster, Freddie burst through the door carrying a bag of groceries, ambling over to the kitchen area and setting them down with a  grunt. 

“Bloody hell, Bri, I can see myself in this fucking counter.  Overdoing it much?”  He began pulling out his wares one by one.  The original plan was for tea, but when Bri had sent him to the store, he knew this was going to be a full on meal.  Bri always got domestic when he was nervous. 

Brian looked at him crossly as he fluffed another pillow.  “I just want everything to be perfect,” he groused.  Freddie came up behind him, letting his arms ease around his waist.  “Relax Bri, you’re trying too hard.” 

Brian sighed. 

“The boys will love everything you’ve done, I know it.” 

Brian gave Freddie’s hands a little squeeze.  “You know I love you, right Freddie?” 

Freddie dropped his forehead to rest between the taller man’s shoulders.  “I know you do, darling.  And I love you so much.”  He tightened his arms around him.  “Do you want me to get started on the lasagna? 

Brian chuffed, tensing instantly.  “You’ll burn down the flat, Fred.  You know that.” 

Freddie pulled away, lightly slapping his arm.  “I know that, you sod.  I just said that to get you to stop cleaning.  Now come on, I’ll set the table at least.” 

Brian caught Freddie’s arm, pulling him back to him before he could get too far.  “I love you,” he said before claiming his lips. 

Freddie grinned.  “You already said that.” 

There was a smile on his face as Brian took in his slightly pink cheeks.  “I don’t care,” he said.

---

Roger and John held hands on The Tube, John’s leg restlessly bouncing alongside Roger’s.  Roger smiled, placing a calming hand on his thigh. 

“Don’t be so nervous, love.  It’s only tea and biscuits.” 

John nodded primly, trying to smile.  He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the rumble and flashing lights of The Tube rock the anxiety out of him.  He had worn his best shirt and jeans and to Roger looked good enough to eat. 

They’d finally gotten out of bed and worked up enough courage to sift through their scant street clothes to pick out something presentable enough to wear to make the four mile journey across town to the off campus flat Brian and Freddie shared. 

The Tube dumped them out a few blocks from the address Brian had given them, and the fresh air was welcome.  It was a lovely Sunday for London, crisp and cool, and the sun was warm on their backs as they made their way along the city streets. 

Freddie and Brian had a red front door. That was John’s last cognizant thought before Roger was knocking and the door was swinging open and Freddie was on the other side. 

He looks really good was the second thought.  But Freddie always did…always dressed like he was going somewhere special, and today was no different.  Freddie was dressed in low-cut green shirt, very sheer, and tight satin pants to match.  He hurried them inside, muttering something about them catching cold when it couldn’t have been warmer outside. 

Roger and John just stood uncomfortably just inside the threshold of the neat little flat, not really sure what to do next.  John felt something warm on his arm, and he looked down and Roger was reaching for his hand. 

The flat was so much nicer than theirs. They had furniture and more than one window and even a television.  It smelled good too, like tomato sauce and lemons and home. 

Something warm and sharp stirred in John when he saw their record player in the living room.  They’d had to sell theirs, but still had their records. 

“Hi guys, so glad you made it!”  Brian came out of the bedroom, untying an apron from around his waist that said ‘Your Opinion Wasn’t in the Recipe,’ his already curly hair floofed and a bit of tomato sauce on his cheek.  Freddie tutted, licking his thumb to scrub off the offending spot, causing Brian to playfully slap his hand away. 

“Would you both like some wine?”  He went over to the kitchen counter and checked a timer.  “The vegetarian lasagna is almost done.  We can lounge on the couch and have a chat until then, maybe listen to some records.” 

Brian knew he was talking fast, trying too hard, but they both looked so delightfully sweet and a bit lost standing there in his doorway.  He just wanted to take and hug them both. 

“We’re good, thanks,” Roger said politely, ignoring John’s attempt at eye contact. 

“Ok then,” Brian said gently, “Would you like to sit down?”

John smiled, finally speaking up.  “That would be lovely.” 

Freddie led them to the seating area while Brian fetched tea.  There was a couch and chair there, the couch barely enough room for all of them.  Roger elected to take the chair facing the couch and patted his lap for John to sit in it.

Brian came in with a small tea service…a neat white ceramic teapot with mismatched mugs that Roger found rather charming.  He looked up and smiled at him, taking a sugar and milk, while John took his with only sugar. 

“You have a lovely home,” Roger said as Brian settled beside Freddie on the couch.  John nodded, sipping his tea.  “Yes, thank you so much for inviting us over.” 

They sat in companionable silence for awhile, until Freddie gently nudged Brian, clearing his throat. 

Brian straightened up.  “Um, boys, Freddie and I both care about you a great deal.” 

Roger swallowed, rubbing gentle circles over John’s back.  “We care about you too,” he said quietly.

Brian looked at Freddie, beaming, and Freddie expressed a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.  “That’s wonderful news, darling.  We were hoping you did.” 

John smiled softly at him, and Freddie returned it.  “Why don’t you join us on the couch,” Freddie suggested, looking at John and then Roger. 

Roger’s hand went lower on John’s back.  “There’s not enough room,” he said softly. 

Brian smiled, patting his lap.  “Oh, we’ll make do.  Come join us.”

Roger looked at John, and John gave him a small nod, smiling.  The two stood, approaching the couch hand in hand.  Roger settled in Brian’s lap, and John in Freddie’s, facing each other. 

Brian put his arms around Roger almost immediately, feeling the warmth of the young man through his clothes.  He ran his hand up his back, under his jacket, just to feel a little closer to him. 

John was soft and perfect on Freddie’s lap, and Freddie could scarcely wait for the day when John would ride his cock, proud and graceful and strong, but until then this would have to do.  He leaned forward, his nose in his hair, and took in a long breath.

Roger could feel Brian stiffen beneath him, and though the man shifted under him in an attempt to hide it, he found it incredibly erotic.  He’d never had anyone other than John be attracted to him like this before, with clothes on and him not on his knees.  It made him feel wanted…desired.  Sexy even. 

He fell into John, grabbing his hands as they met in the air.  His lips met his in a messy kiss, teeth and tongues clashing and moans ringing out in the small flat as Roger ground his hips down on Brian’s erection, enjoying the way the man’s breath hitched. 

Brian scraped his nails down Roger’s back, finally finding the hem of his shirt.  “Why don’t you boys show us how you appreciate each other,” Brian said, his voice dreamy. 

John looked up at Freddie, almost as if asking permission, and Freddie nodded, his eyes hazy with lust.  “Down you go love.” 

They pushed back the coffee table, tossing down Brian’s carefully fluffed throw pillows onto the rug. 

Roger and John just looked at each other at first, their eyes dark and breathing heavy.  Roger hadn’t been this turned on in ages, and he could feel the piercing gaze of the two men on the couch, making him even harder.  He didn’t think he would ever like being watched, but he did. He loved it. 

John walked on his knees, pulling Roger toward him sloppily so that he fell forward into him.  John groaned, straining in his pants, running his palm over his erection to relieve some of the friction.  He heard sloppy kisses and moans from the two men watching them, and it made him wild with lust. 

“Come here baby.  Tell me what you need.” 

John stripped the denim jacket off of Roger’s shoulders, kissing him roughly.  He whimpered, whining softly, the sound going straight to his cock.  Roger’s cheeks were wet, tears of frustration already dampening his face.  “I’m gonna get you off baby, don’t worry.  I’ll be so good to you.  Always so good to you,” John murmured into his slender neck, causing Roger to sigh as John continued to strip him.  He thread his arms out of his shirt, taking a moment to claim his mouth, to tug at his pretty blond hair. 

Roger groaned, grinding into John with a low whine.  “Fuck me.”

John nipped at his neck, ignoring the groans and fumblings from the couch.  “You sure baby?  That's what you want?” 

Roger exhaled sharply.  “Yeah.  Fuck me.  Make me take it.” 

John chuckled.  “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Roger just sighed.  “Fuck me John.” 

Brian steadily stroked his cock with one hand, the beautiful scene in front of him unfolding far beyond any fantasy he could conjure.  With the other hand, he pulled out a bottle of lube from an end table and tossed it to the two. 

John was beautiful too, he found himself thinking.  That long hair and somewhat angelic face.  And the way he was taking charge, leading Roger through the scene.  Brian turned to Freddie, stealing a kiss. 

Roger couldn’t get his pants off fast enough.  His cheeks were flushed, his hair tousled, and he wondered briefly how tea became this so quickly.  Not that he was complaining. 

John helped him out of his jeans, hands trailing up his thighs to rest along his hips.  Roger squirmed, head going back against a pillow and stealing a glance at Brian.  He smiled, watching the man take his pleasure, high color in his cheeks and his shirt undone. 

Then John closed his mouth over a nipple, and his eyes slipped shut. 

A series of whines left the blond’s mouth, only encouraging John.  “On your knees love…so you can look at Brian and Freddie,” he said with a kiss to his cheek. 

Roger swallowed thickly, going up on his knees and locking eyes with Brian.  His gaze slid to Freddie, who was looking at him hotly, his hand on his cock. 

It made him feel powerful to know he had that much effect on them. 

John’s fingers were cold but welcome as they probed his opening, his eyes rolling softly in his head.  He bit his lip, his head dipping slightly. 

“Don’t be quiet, darling,” Freddie said suddenly.  “To hell with the neighbors.” 

Roger smiled, his mouth quirking up until John punched a moan out of him as he slipped another finger inside.  He was working up a good rhythm by now, and Roger rocked on his knees, pushing against him, seeking the friction John just wouldn’t give him. 

The third finger did it.  He cried out, and John angled his fingers into that spot inside him that made his thighs tremble. He could feel his cock leaking and he reached back to stroke it, distributing some of his weight onto the pillows. 

“You ok,” John asked him, a little breathless with his own need.  “You still want me to fuck you or you want to get off like this?”

“Want you to fuck me,” Roger said, his voice strained.  “Go ahead.” 

Roger lost the fingers as John pulled his hips up flush with his, fingers digging in as he pressed into him.  Two quick jerks and he was fully seated. 

Roger loved John, but he hated this part.  Tears prickled his eyes, and his teeth dug into his bottom lip.  Little puffs of breath feathered his hair as his nerves settled. 

“It’s ok baby,” John cooed as he let him adjust to the feeling of him inside of him.  “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Roger huffed, angry with himself and his own hangups.  “I know that John.”  He reached back, sighing in relief when he found John’s hand.  “You can move now.” 

John leaned into him, making slow, easy strokes, feeling his orgasm build.  The worry in Brian and Freddie’s face had dissipated some, but he could feel Brian’s coiled tension as an almost palpable presence.  Both of them had questions, and it was understandable. 

John angled his hips, careful to hit Roger’s prostate, making him moan and thrust back against him.  He draped himself over Roger’s back, placing sloppy kisses at the base of his neck.  “I love you Roggie,” he whispered, and Roger grunted in response.  John picked up the pace, rocking into him with a bit more force, a hand sneaking around to work Roger’s cock. 

He keened, hitching back against him.  “You gonna come for me love?  Give the boys a show?” 

Roger only moaned, his head thrown back, the hot, full feeling of John inside him blanking his mind.  Brian's eyes were on him, expression soft and somewhat curious.  Roger wanted to kiss it off his face.    

Freddie couldn’t take his eyes off of John…the way the young man was so gentle with Roger, the way they were together.  Freddie watched Roger’s pretty open mouth, wanting very badly to fill it.

Roger could feel his orgasm building, the flames of it licking his skin.  With a few more pumps of his hand, Roger was coming hard and fast, his vision whited out and struggling to stay upright as John fucked him through his own climax. 

Brian was covering him with a blanket as John kissed his hair.  Freddie gently stroked his face.  Somewhere, a kitchen timer went off. 

Brian was away then, tending the lasagna.  Freddie stretched out beside John, stretching his arm across both John and Roger.  “Mind if I snuggle up?” he said smoothly, nuzzling John’s shoulder. 

Roger closed his eyes against the warm hands on him, comforting and familiar.  The aroma of melted cheese and oregano filled the flat, and his stomach rumbled.  So this is what it feels like to belong to something different, Roger thought before his eyes drifted closed, something more. 

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[flyswhumpcenter]

That’s What Friends Are For [Fever February Day 2 - Overwork]

FEVER FEBRUARY INDEX

Summary: Three friends, only one mission: convince Florian to go the fuck to sleep. It takes some conviction, compromising text messages and some girl to get him to marry his bed once and for all.

Fandom: Original Work

Word Count: 1.6K words

Notes: Florian is finally getting the fluff. I guess I wrote fluff two times in a row because Sollicitude is Florian and François angst central lately. They deserve some floof.

AO3 version available here.

“For the thousandth time already: I’m okay!” Florian yells in the general direction behind him as he gets his head out of his novel.

“Yeah, sure. Still as likely as Bouquinerie going missing for a single day,” Christian replies from behind his desk chair, his tone flatter than the medieval representation of planet Earth.

“You cannot have possibly worked so much lately and be entirely okay. This is not humanly possible, and you know it, Florian,” Eudes, who is visiting, adds.

“Oh my God, would you stop bothering me already? I have a paper to finish for tomorrow, and currently you’re making it impossible to do!”

The two men get farther from their friend, who breathes out. Their heads get close to the other, as if they were imitating TV reality starlets portraying high school girls.

“There’s no way we’re getting him out of there,” whispers Christian. Not even the fever stops him.”

“Wait,” Eudes almost speaks too loudly, “he is running a fever?! How do you even know that?!”

“He was so focused on his thing,” the History major explains, “I managed to put my hand on his forehead. He’s getting himself ill over some kind of essay… thing. I never really understood literature specialists but geez, that’s overdoing it.”

“A fever, you say…” the redhead mutters to himself, a sly smile on his face.

Christian doesn’t really get what makes him so happy, but he’s damn curious to know what.

“Yeah, a fever. A probably not-so-low one of that because, duh, it’s Florian. The guy gets sick as soon as he’s tired, even if it’s just a stuffed nose.”

“Thank you so much for the information, Chris. I know exactly what to do now.”

His smirk turns into a mischievous grin. He has the best idea he’s gotten in the entire year, and he’s certain it’s going to work perfectly.

“Florian?” Eudes yells suddenly in the room.

He gets an angered “What?!” in response.

“You’re going to piss him off,” Christian murmurs to him, “you’re not making it any better. He’s already very snappy when he’s getting told he’s sick.”

“Do you know who will come to get your soft behind to stop overworking yourself if you do not stop?”

“Yeah, Henri,” Florian replies. “Because why not invite all our goddamn room from Lakanal, while you’re at it. Why are you two still around anyway?”

“Henri? He is busy. I know someone in your course who is not, however…”

Florian’s head slowly turns towards his friends’, and he’s finally out of his book, which he put on the desk. It finally dawns on Christian, and they both say the same name at the same time.

“Annabelle.”

Eudes’s grin turns into an exploding laugh. He likes to mess around with Florian, that much has been established since the beginning of last year and meeting with both him and her, but this time his little devil jokes may serve a use.

“That’s weird, Flo. I thought you were alright, but you seem pained at the idea of seeing Annabelle,” Christian teases, getting way too much enjoyment out of bothering his friend.

“I-I have an incoming deadline…!” he defends himself. “I don’t have time to spend with her…! I…”

“Be honest here. You’re feverish and you don’t want her to worry.”

“I don’t have a fever! How would you know that anyway?! I don’t remember you chasing after me with a thermometer.”

“Turns out you’re completely vulnerable to touch when you’re deep into your stuff, friend.”

The literature major’s eyes grow wide as his face distorts. Some cold sweat mixes with the hot one he already has going on.

“I… When… When did you do that…?” is all he replies, so taken aback he can barely speak.

“Earlier in the afternoon. You’re a real human heater when you’re feverish.”

“You couldn’t possibly know I was ill, if I’m even ill in the first place,” (Eudes sighs: that guy’s really stubborn), “since I don’t even have class today.”

“You sent Henri and me a message at three in the morning signed François, and somehow it was meant for a Roxanne, whoever that is. I didn’t know you once called yourself François until this morning.”

“Oh, right, I once thought of… Wait, what was in the message?!”

“Stuff about your paper, or something, your verbs weren’t making sense. Then you mentioned ‘going on T’ and surgery. Let me guess, she’s…”

“Not in front of people who don’t know that!” Florian snaps, almost out of breath.

His face is both flushed and red from his obvious embarrassment. Eudes is both dying of laughter and barely understanding what all that mess was.

“You should go to bed, at least until that fever you-totally-don’t-have-right goes down. I’m sure you can’t even read what’s written properly and that you forgot you finished it like… two days ago.”

Florian blinks furiously, quiet, and then looks down at his paper.

“You’re right… I’ve already finished it…” he whispers to himself. “What was I even doing already?”

“Who knows,” Christian replies. “But now you can go to bed and sleep until you have to give it back to whoever charged you with writing it.”

“Right…”

He slumps inside his chair, no matter how basic and uncomfortable it actually is. His weak giggle is half-rewarding, half-paining. It wasn’t easy to make him come clean about his fever: it’ll be harder to convince him it’s okay to rest when there’s an impending deadline because perfectionism isn’t the key to everything.

“It means you can go to bed before you pass out cold on your chair,” Christian says.

“You’re still going to call Annabelle if I do…?” is all he asks.

Eudes sighs, “Is this all you think of when you overworked yourself to a fever? I still do not get why she chose you over all the other nice boys from her class. I did not know she liked her men vulnerable.”

Florian’s blush is now radiating over his flush, hiding the lower half of his face behind his hands. If he was Henri, Christian would have found this cute.

“Do not tell me you would not want her to take care of your fever. You are drooling over the idea inside.”

His blushing is reaching dangerously bright territories.

“T-that’s false!!”

Christian smirks and whispers to his friend, “His native accent is showing, that means he’s being embarrassed. He’s totally drooling the idea of seeing her take care of him because he’s easily lonely when he’s sick.”

“He is? I would have never told.”

“Flo’s actually a teddy bear, not a stone giant. He needs company when he’s ill.”

“This is… actually a bit sad. We seem to be bothering him, however, are you sure he does not want to be alone?”

“He’s tricking himself into thinking he’s good enough not to need company. Call her.”

Christian walks up to his other friend and gives him his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed. You have a fever to sleep off.”

A quick look behind him confirms that Eudes has left. Florian grabs the hand and pulls off from his chair, gets unbalanced for a bit, and catches himself before Christian has to.

“You’re going straight to bed.”

“You’ve only said so thirty times today,” Florian snickers before almost collapsing on his friend.

“If you had listened to the first one, I wouldn’t have needed the twenty-nine others, you know.”

A few minutes later, he’s back into his pyjamas and inside his bed. Now he gets to notice the fever’s strength, with all the chills it can get out of him. It’s harder than it looks to be both hot and cold at the same time, not so surprisingly. Time flies weirdly, and he’s unable to either look at his phone, his watch or the clock in his room. That place has an awfully placed bed.

He can however find comfort in a cup of tea served by…Goddammit Eudes.

“Hello… He still called you, huh…” he tells his not-so-surprise guest as a hand lands on his forehead and someone sits next to him on his bed.

“Eudes told me you were not doing so well… It looks like he was right, you seem to need some care.”

“It’s just a tiny fever from pushing myself too much… Nothing major, I promise…”

“Hush now,” she puts a finger on his mouth as an emphasis. “Everyone here agrees you need your rest. You have to at least lay back in order to do that.”

“Mm-hmm,” he mutters, leaning against the hand on his cheek. He doesn’t want her to leave his side, ever. He’s sure she has a ton of other things to do aside from taking care of his overworked face: she has the same essay to give back as him, friends to see, books to read, quotes to learn by heart… But he can’t tell her to remember those because she told him to be quiet, so he stays quiet.

Annabelle opens a book, holding it in her left hand as her right one is still stroking where he hasn’t shaved for a few days now (he does like finally having facial hair, though). It doesn’t look like she’s leaving for a while, so he just fully leans under her touch. That’s one blessing he doesn’t want to miss any piece of.

An hour later, Eudes realizes he forgot his phone on Florian’s kitchen counter (if a kitchen that guy even has, buried under all the other crap on his furniture). When he goes to get it, he notices a peculiar scene that he finds absolutely disgusting: the guy sleeping in his bed, with his sister having fallen so while doing whatever couples do.

“Nerds.”