#look at rog he is glowing

[sparklecryptid]

Bees (Or The Beginning of the Journey)

or the first short story in the 'gay faerie enviromental horror fantasy' novel

ko-fi

patreon

-

“I need bees.”

Hans blinked. The man in front of him wasn’t the strangest customer Hans had ever encountered but once you’ve been a florist long enough you come to realize that the strangest customers look like everyone else.

This man was nothing special. There was no strange aura about him, no scars marring his face or glowing sigils etched into what skin Hans could see. This man with his short black hair, his gold eyes, and light brown skin looked like half the population of Rog. There was nothing notable about his sharp features.

The most notable thing about him were his clothes. They lack all the distinct embrodiery that nobility loved. There were no house crests or family emblems on his tunic or cloak but all of his garments were made expertly. They fit him like a glove and showed hardly any sign of wear and tear despite having been at the height of fashion three years ago. If his clothing didn't give away his status, his bearing did.

It was in the way this customer held himself. His back perfectly straight and hands held loosely at his sides. What the customer lacked in height, he came up only to Hans’ shoulders, he made up for in presence.

This is a man, Hans thought, that is used to the world bowing at his feet.

Shame, Hans didn’t give special treatment.

“What for exactly?”

The man sighed as if the world was putting him through a trial that demanded the utmost patience from him. He turned his gold eyes on Hans quizzically.

“Do you normally ask people why they want bees?” he asked. Hans couldn’t place where his accent was from, but he thought that it sounded distinctly foreign.

“’Course I do,” Hans said as he wiped down a vase, he was going to assemble the most glorious bouquet in later, “Can’t have them mistreating my bees.”

The man blinked slowly as if it had never occurred to him that people would mistreat bees. Shame not all noblemen thought the same.

“People mistreat bees?” The man says it like it’s astonishing to him. Hans wonders what it’s like to sit so far above everybody you’ve never seen someone throw a jar of bees at you.

“All the time,” Hans says, “That’s why I gotta make sure you don’t mistreat them.”

The man blinked again.

“Fair enough,” he said at last, then as if remembering people introduce themselves to others he took a step back from the counter and added, “I’m Sage.”

Hans nearly dropped the vase he was polishing. Sage’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’ as Hans fumbled with the vase. Sage didn’t attempt to help, although when Hans finally set the vase on the counter and looked back at Sage the man looked as if he had sorely wanted to.

“You’re a Healer?” Hans said. Sage hesitated and nodded slowly. It made sense then, why Sage had a presence and the name Sage. Only Healers were permitted to take the names of plants. Only a healer would come to a hellhole like this.

Bitterly, Hans thought that if a Healer had showed up sooner his town might not have been in this mess. That rot would not be eating through the people in Bardly and that his flowers would still be thriving.

He didn't look at the barely surviving flowerbeds outside his window. If he didn't see it, he could ignore it.

“Yes,” Sage confirmed, “I’m, uh, new in the area.”

“You’re here to clean up the mess by the windmill then?” Hans guessed. The Corruption by the windmill had been slowly leeching itself into the towns drinking water. People have been getting sick for ages now.

Hans cast an eye on his flowers. None were as healthy as they were a few months go. The ones in the ground weren't even worth harvesting.

“Yes.” Sage shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes darting from the window behind Hans to the door at the side of Hans’ store. The man was looking for a way to escape Hans guessed, though he couldn’t fathom why.

“And you need bees for that?” Hans kept his hands visible, some tension seemed to ease from Sage’s shoulders.

“Everything exists in harmony,” Sage replied, finally meeting Hans’ eyes again, “Haven’t you noticed the lack of pollinators recently? Even the wasps are fleeing. I need bees to find how far the corruption extends.”

“Don’t you have magic for that?” Hans had been told that Healers had magic for everything. Why they would need bees was beyond him.

“Sometimes,” Sage said, his golden eyes turning wistful, “It’s better to listen to nature rather than force it.”

Hans opened his mouth to say something.

He closed it with a click.

“I’ll get you your bees,” Hans said at last, “Try to make sure not to blow up the town.”

Sage laughed and Hans swore the air seemed just a bit clearer.

[elficially-done-with-life]

The Light of the Stars

Request: I would love to see, how would Maeglin, Rog or Amras (whoever you feel like writing for) react to a reader who basicaly is a fallen star (Varda's maia maybe - or an isekai'd girl, who lost her memories, but aquired some strange powers along the way)? would they become friends? Lovers? Something else?

A/N: Listen, in the beginning I really wanted to write something for Amras, but then my head made up a lot of ideas for Maeglin so I went with him instead. I went with the Reader losing her memories, but since she doesn't know who she is anymore it is up to you to decide where she is from, hope that is okay.

I really hope you like this! This was my first request and I was really exited to write it!

Pairing: Maeglin x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of self-doubt

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

It happened on one of the many evenings when Maeglin sneaked out of the city. The city where he didn't really feel like he belonged.

Nothing and nobody had ever noticed that he was missing and Maeglin quickly realised, sadly, that it was because nobody missed him. A thought that ate itself deep into his heart. If nobody missed him, was he worth anything at all?

These thoughts plagued him again that evening. Everything had been getting worse and worse all day. The sun had shone brighter than usual today and had practically burnt itself into his eyes.

He was used to the protection of the trees that only let a fraction of the light shine through, but Gondolin was practically right under the sun and he had had to narrow his eyes to small slits all day to see anything at all.

Now that he could only see the pleasant light of the stars, his eyes could finally rest a little. In his opinion, that was better than sleeping at night. Not that he had ever been good at that.

He would work at night if the light from the candles in his forge was sufficient, but unfortunately it was not. So he was forced to work during the day, just like all the others, who would probably be happy if they didn't have to see him any longer during the day.

But he usually never got that far out, that close to the woods. Because he felt too many emotions in the woods. The familiar fear of his father, who was long dead but still haunted Maeglin's dreams, but also the longing for the protection of the trees and the smell of the earth, which he missed so much in the city.

But that evening he had seen something strange that had probably escaped everyone else in Gondolin. It had been like a shooting star falling from the sky, but much brighter and bigger, and he had seen how this something had crashed into the forest up ahead.

And since Maeglin was curious by nature, he simply had to look for it.

His curiosity clouded his senses so much that he hardly noticed how time passed until he was standing at the opening of the forest.

He could see a glow through the leaves. A pleasant glow that reminded him of the light of the stars.

Maeglin carefully pushed his way through the thicket towards the place where the glow was coming from.

It wasn't long before he reached a small clearing where a you, young woman in a white dress, laid. Your whole body was glowing and your eyes where close.

Did you fell out of the sky?

Maeglin swallowed. He had never seen anyone like you.

He wasn't quite sure what to do. On the one hand he wanted to get to know you, because something drew him to you, on the other hand he just wanted to go back to Gondolin and forget what had just happened. People thought he was strange enough as it was, he didn't need to be associated with falling stars.

But he quickly pushed this thought to the back of his mind. It certainly wasn't your fault that you had fallen from the sky. And you were probably just as alone as he was.

-

It was a mystery to Maeglin how he had managed to carry you all the way to Gondolin without his black cloak, which he had wrapped around your shining body, slipping.

The whole time he was afraid one of the guards would see you, but surprisingly everything went well. Maeglin could hardly believe his luck.

He carefully laid you down on a warm fur in front of the fireplace in his forge and fetched thick blankets from his bed to put over you.

Your skin had been very cold and he had been quite afraid that you wouldn't make it.

Sighing, he sat down on the floor near you and started working on a project in a little notebook. He would wait until you woke up. He usually couldn't sleep at night anyway.

He didn't have to wait long, because soon you opened your eyes.

You rubbed your forehead in confusion and looked around. At some point, your gaze fell on Maeglin.

He expected you to flinch or say something derogatory, but you just said, "Oh hello." Then you groaned and rubbed your forehead again. "Do you know where I am?"

"I brought you here," Maeglin explained, "I found you in the forest. You are - you fell out of the sky. Like a shooting star." He looked at you curiously. "Do you know why?"

You shook your head and then screwed up your face. "No, I am sorry. I am afraid I cannot remember anything. Not even my own name."

"I am Maeglin, but- but please call me Lómion. I prefer that." he said gently. "And we could call you Elmírya ('El' from 'elen', quenya word for star/'mírya' is a quenya word for beautiful) until you remember your own name, if you like."

He blushed crimson. While you had been asleep, Maeglin had been thinking about what your name might be and had come up with all sorts of examples. When you couldn't remember your name, his favorite just slipped out.

You smiled gently. "That sounds nice, Lómion. So we are friends now, are we?"

Maeglin smiled gently. He'd never really had any real friends before, and even if you'd only known each other for a few minutes, he already felt safe with you.

Maybe it was because you were as 'strange' as he was and he felt connected through that difference. Maybe it was because the light emanating from your body was more pleasant for him than the sunlight.

He didn't know. He only knew that he was glad to have sneaked out of the city that night, because he had the feeling that you could change things in his life.

"Yes, we are friends," he said happily.

Then you did something he hadn't expected. You wrapped your arms around him.

And then he realised that he wasn't just prefering your light over that of the sun, but also your warmth.

[tiutale]

The corridors were filled with obscure shadows dancing on their walls from the torches lining the way. Glorfindel's soft glow did little to change the eery interplays. His boots made little sounds on the stone as he walked the final steps to the large sitting room of the House of the Arch.

Tapping a code onto the ornate wooden door he steeled his resolve as the locka clicked open. Opening it he closed it quietly and relocked the mechanisms. The room was quiet but for the hearth popping and crackling its merry heat upon them.

Egalmoth gave him a solemn nod. Galdor tried to smule but the look was strained. Ecthelion lay on the couch rubbing soothing circles on the back of the Lord of the Hammer who was curled up to his friend's side. Glorfindel's heart broke more and more at the sight.

Storms had been hampering Gondlin's growth for a few weeks now. The viscious thunder and lightning hitting with such force it shook at the stone walls built thus far.

Worse than that it had awakened horrifying memories in those of Rog's House. Many had sought shelter in the mines Egalmoth had begun. Some took up residence in the lowest chambers of the King's Tower.

Rog had pushed his own reactions so far down none saw how the weather was harming his mind. He had put all his efforts forth to protect those under his wing. Until one night Egalmoth found him near crazed. Lost in some dark memory. It took four of them to subdue him enough for the elf to be reached.

Grabbing a blanket he nudged his way onto the couchdraping it over both elves. Sitting he took rog's feet into his lap and began a deep tissue massage. They could not take his memories but they could work out ways to ease the emotions they evoked. And he would not be alone in.this battle. Not with their friends to hold him to their plane.

[doodling-doodle]

A Modern Great War (PT. 8)

He must've been out for a while.

But he was in the Dark Aether.

And he was found by... someone. He woke up in a house...

And he knew that he had to hurry...

He had just woken up, and… Was in a house? His right arm was fully numb, and he tried to remember anything that happened.

He felt someone shaking him, but he didn’t respond. He heard voices. Not of the Gods, but of humans.

“Ah, there you are- oh my God!”

“You found him like this?!”

“Get him inside!”

He sat up on the table, pulling on the cuff on his arm until it snapped.

“Are any of you there…?”

“We’re all here, Sergeant.”

He got up, trying to get blood back in his arm. He was so confused…

Then the door to the room opened.

 "How the fuck did you get out of the cuffs?!" American. Almost like Alex, but aged. He turned. He didn't even look like Alex. He didn't have dusty blonde hair, instead dark brown, but the blue eyes were the same.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot, please!" He held his hands up, bracing for anything that could happen.

"Woah, hey, hey, kid, calm down. We ain't gonna hurt you."

"Your… your not?"

"No. First things first, what's your name?"

"Kyle Garrick… they call me 'Gaz'."

"You military?"

"SAS. Task Force 141."

"How'd you get here?"

"Could ask you the same. The Dark Aether is rebuilding itself. I have to stop it."

"We died. That's how we got here."

He was a little shocked. "Who are you…?"

"Tank Dempsey. USMC. I have three other people with me, out on a supply run."

"You were put on babysitting duty?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

He chuckled a little, and looked around the room. All his gear was there.

"Put your stuff on. I have questions for you."

"Rog."

He grabbed everything, and put it all on before looking in the mirror.

His eyes were purple. Not glowing, but they were a deep purple.

“What the fuck…?” He whispered.

“You’ve become Aetheric. Your not fully human anymore. Let’s hope that it doesn’t get you the point of it keeping you alive.”

“Okay…”

He just went out to the other room. It seemed like a normal safehouse.

“So… You found a portal and went through it?” Dempsey asked

“Opened a portal… I’ve been tracking down the Elder Gods for the past month. When I found Vercanna, she opened a portal for me.”

“Damn… How old are you?”

He hesitated, “Twenty-nine.”

“Rank?”

“... Sergeant.”

“Your pretty young for a Sergeant. You must be good.”

“They say so.” He leaned back on the table, and sighed.

“What’s the Task Force?”

“It’s an elite Task Force. We’ve been together for three years, four in November.”

“Damn.”

“I’ve been there since day one.”

“Who’s in charge?”

“Captain Price. I’m his second.”

“Damn! Wait, what year is it?”

He heard about this. It was in Elizabeth Grey’s report… Well, back when she was Dr. Grey. It’s Elizabeth Maxis, now.

“2023…”

He looked shocked, “I… wow… what's war like nowadays?"

“For us, its mostly terrorists and cartels.”

“Interesting… You got someone back home?”

He chuckled a little. “Back at base, yes. My partner… Actually a part of the 141. Been together nearly three years.”

“Name?”

“... Alex.”

“Alexander or Alexandrea?”

“Alexander.”

“Cute.” He chuckled, noticing Kyle blink in shock, "The others should be here soon."

He nodded, and then he heard a whistle.

"There they are." He went outside, and called out, "He woke up!"

That got them running.

"What's your name?" The German asked.

"Kyle Garrick. They call me 'Gaz'."

"Well, Gaz, how'd you end up here?"

"Back off, doc. The kid just woke up." So he was a Doctor?

“And how old is the kid?” The Russian asked.

“Twenty-nine.”

“How’d you end up here?!”

“Stop it. Both of you.”

He looked behind them both, seeing a third man, Japanese, probably, who wasn’t speaking.

“How about we just… Figure out what you need from here, then figure out how you get home.” 

“That’s easy.” He chuckled a little, “The Dark Aether Elder God’s need me to… claim their power. I need to find them.”

“... Okay, well, that isn’t something you hear every day.” 

“We know how to find ourselves, plaything.”

“Well I hope you do.”

“What now?” The Russian asked.

“Turn in for the night. Figure out what to do in the morning.” Dempsey replied.

“Rog. Does someone need to be on watch?” 

“Yeah. I got-”

“I just slept for however long, I got it.” He got up, and watched as the others gave him a weird look.

“Roger that, Sergeant. There’s a sniper rifle on the roof.”

“Rog.” He went out, climbed the ladder, and went to the edge of the roof.

This is what Captain Mika Masaki wrote in her report. In her description of the Dark Aether. Purple hue on everything, shadowy illusions, forests, and broken down towns. "It is a place always changing. Shifting around overnight." Is what it said.

He was about to experience it.

The next day…

He had heard them moving around, and eventually the Russian, who he heard that his name was actually Nikolai, came to get him.

"Alright, Sergeant, where do we need to go?" Dempsey asked. 

"Well, once I get word from them, I'll let you know."

"Come to me first, mortal. I'm not far."

"Nevermind, just heard from Norticus. He’ll probably take me right to him.”

“I will.”

“Is… Is it weird to have a voice in your head all the time?”

“When you have five, six including my own, voices in your head, yeah. And it’s worse since they can hear all the thoughts I have… So they hear about my partner a lot.”

“Ooh… yeah, that sounds rough.”

“Anyway, I’ll find him.”

“We’re coming with you.”

He was a little shocked, but nodded.

“Gear up, lets get going.”

They were ready in about two minutes. He felt a little out of place: Higher quality gear, weapons, and armor. And he wasn’t caked in blood… Yet.

They were walking around for a while, Norticus was telling him what to do and where to go. 

He saw one of those illusions.

It was Alex crying his eyes out, holding the note he left against his chest.

He felt horrible.

“Kyle… Baby, please… Come back. I’m so sorry…”

“But…” He started walking towards it, “But it wasn’t your fault.”

He looked down at it again, before screaming and pounding his fists into the floor.

“No! No, Alex, please!” He started to run, but one of the others held him back.

“Why’d you have to fucking take him from me?! Why?! It’s not fucking fair!!” He looked so distruaght. Hair messy, eyes red… Wearing one of his jackets.

“Alex, please, I’m so sorry!” He collapsed, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m getting you back, baby… I promise…”

He just sobbed as he watched the illusion disappear.

“That was Alex?” Despsey asked.

He nodded.

“Damn…”

He just stood, looking at the settling ashes.

“Mortal. I’m nearby.”

He just walked away, wiping the tears off his face.

He just wanted to forget what he saw.

He got that wish when he found Norticus.

The voice wasn't just in his head anymore, they all heard it.

"You've done well, mortal. I'm close."

He followed it.

Then found him.

"N… Norticus?"

The God turned to face him.

"You've come far, Sergeant." He stated, gesturing for him to come with him. "But I'm afraid you must go farther."

He nodded, and followed.

"How'd you know we're I was?" He asked as they walked.

"We can see through your eyes and hear through your ears. We could… take over, if we wanted too."

"But you wouldn't?"

"No. We need you."

He sighed as they stopped.

"This is where-”

"Get on with it."

He braced as Norticus turned to face him, and he fainted as he was touched by him.

As he came too, he felt something… different.

“Norticus?” He asked as he looked around.

“You took a bit of a hit to the head.”

“I can tell… what happened?"

"You have my power now. Works about the same as using my Artifact."

"Do you need it back?"

"Keep it until we destroy this place."

He nodded, and stood. 

"The others will tell you when they're close. Until then, you're on your own."

"Will you still be in my head?"

"Yes."

"Okay…"

"Leave. Find the others."

He nodded, and left.

"Well?" Dempsey asked.

"It worked."

"Good. Let's get going. Back to the safe house."

They started walking back, and the whole time, he was thinking about how he would test the powers.

He went back inside with them, cleaning his knife. It was a stress reliever for him.

"Hey, kid?"

He looked up, and saw Dempsey.

"Sir?"

"Can I ask something?"

"Sure."

He sat down across from him, "that note Alex was holding? What was it?"

He froze, and put down his knife.

"It was the the note I left before I came here."

He nodded, "You said you've been together nearly three years?"

"Will be on Christmas."

He smiled.

"Did you have someone back home?"

"My parents. Back in Nevada."

"Really?"

"Where's Alex from?"

"West Virginia. We went there last year for Christmas to see his family."

He just looked happy.

"Did you have a partner? Wife?"

"Not back there."

"But?"

"That hot Jap?"

"Your with him?"

"Tak and I were really close before we got sent here. Keep in mind, the time goes different here. It was… fifty years of being here before we managed to find each other again. And… it really didn't take long for us to… get together."

"Damn, you had a longer love story than me."

"What's yours?"

He chuckled.

"So, it was 2020. I thought he was dead. It was classified that he was alive after destroying Barkov's gas factory in November of 2019. In May, I found out. We got close after that, and… He was the one that saved me from getting captured. And I started falling for him. I’ve never been in a relationship- or, after I found out I’m gay, I never got into another relationship. I just… was hoping he’d make the move.”

“Did he?”

“Funny enough, I was the one that did it. I was… about to die. Or, I thought I would. I knew that I’d never get another chance. So I told him.”

"Damn. What happened after that?"

"I was in a coma for five days, woke up on Christmas day, stayed in the hospital for another three, got out, kissed my now-boyfriend of nearly three years by the lake that's on the base."

"That's cute… better than mine."

"How was yours?"

"Took a while, but I did start it. He didn't even respond, just gave me a little kiss on the cheek."

He smiled a little, "that's adorable."  

“He is adorable. I’d love to hear what Alex would say about you.”

“Probably the same. I’m, apparently, a badass disguised as a cinnamon roll.”

“That’s sweet… You should get some rest, kid. I got watch."

He nodded, and went to the same room he woke up in.

He fell asleep pretty easily for it being a different dimension. Then again, it held complete silence.

But Alex was all of his thoughts…

[hidesinhisarchived]

@whatsbehindthefacade asked: [THIRST] ― The receiver comes upon the sender awake late at night, grabbing a beverage of the sender’s choice. (from Rog)

mark's head was throbbing as he dragged himself out of the freezing autumn rain and hefted his bike up the stairs. water ran down his face in rivulets, his hair was plastered to his forehead, and the world was incredibly blurry due to his glasses being tucked safely into his jacket pocket. his body ached, there was an unpleasant heat burning beneath his skin, and his bones felt like glass. the filmmaker wanted nothing more than to change into something dry and crawl headfirst into bed. at least he had the next two days off, so perhaps he could actually get a little bit of rest if roger kept holding steady enough.

he slid open the door as quietly as possible, only to find himself staring at a roger illuminated by nothing but the fridge's glow, the last can of soda in his hands. mark's heart sank a little because he'd been looking forward to drinking that after changing his clothes. the fizz would have felt amazing on his aching throat. he quickly hid his disappointment and raised an eyebrow. "a little late for a drink, isn't it?" his voice was already growing hoarse, but he chose to ignore it. he placed his bike in its usual spot and pushed his sopping hair off of his forehead. "did you take your azt?"

[chaotichedonist]

Queen Elizabeth II look-alike, Jeannette Charles, and band Queen pose in September 1974

By Michael Putland

[hyunjilicious]

Your fic got me thinking... imagine sucking sebastian off and when he's about to finish to tell him to beg and at the beginning he doesn't want to do it but you tell him your serious and when he tried to beg you're like "in romanian" and his face falls 🥺

KSAJKSJ THIS IS MY FAVORITE ASK EVER OMG!!!!! I don’t know if you asked this because you saw me mention that I’m romanian or if it’s just a coincidence but holy shit this is the ultimate dream!!

-

You slowly pulled away from his cock, your lips damp as his precum dribbled all the way down to your chin. With your fingers wrapped around his length and your thumb carefully rubbing across his slit, you looked up into his eyes, "Beg"

For a second, he didn't respond. It was as if he didn't hear you, and then his face fell, his eyebrows raising slightly before settling into a confused frown, "What?" Sebastian panted, hoping he had heard you wrong.

"I said, beg" you repeated, teasingly swiping your tongue around his inflamed head.

"Come on, Y/n" he sighed, his head falling to the side, "You can't be serious"

"I am" you nodded innocently before wrapping your lips around his tip, gently sucking before pulling away with a loud 'pop'.

His hips bucked and he hissed with pleasure, his head falling back. "Shit, fine ok" he grunted. Sebastian took a deep breath and licked his lips, his cheeks glowing an erotic shade of red, "Please, I'm-"

"In Romanian" you cut him off, pumping his cock ever so slowly into your hand.

His plump, chapped lips parted in surprise, and then he cursed under his breath, as you moved to tease his balls - the sweetest, tiniest amount of pressure, perfect for driving him insane.

"Ok, ok" he breathed out, "Te rog- um.. sunt asa aproape, mai am putin, te rog. Am nevoie de tine" he said, sounding more shy than ever before, accent all messed up and muffled by the way his nervousness consumed him.

(Translation: Please- um… I'm so close, just a little bit, please. I need you)

Trying and failing to suppress your grin, you sprung to your feet and pressed your lips to his. "Ok, your romanian is too cute. It doesn't feel right. But you get an A for effort"

[rostovs-lover]

christmas for cowboys

roger taylor x reader | cowboys, lots of fluff | gender neutral reader | fluff, very fluffy | wc.1120

haha apparently i cant write anything long, also according to the editor i used this reads at a fifth grade level. i did the christmas prompt because i’m a slut for the holiday season but if you want the others written i’m totally willing, just let me know!

request : Since holidays are coming write about it like winter with Rog Christmas morning or New Year's vacation. Or maybe yn and Rog being young parents... or how Rog helped yn with her toxic relationship and then they slowly fall in

you and roger celebrate Christmas with your cowboy obsessed son and his trusty stuffed cow.

     There was a buzzing presence in the bedroom far too early. Oak door squeaking and quiet plodding across the room. You awoke to a gentle tapping at your cheek, big blue eyes peering into yours.

    “Mummy-” Charlie whispered, “Mummy it’s snowing.”

      You sniffed, blinking against the bright light in the room, “Is it?”

      “Mhm,” Your boy nodded, matter-of-factly, “It’s also Christmas, Christmas morning. Papa said Father Christmas would be here, and I checked the tree, he was,”

    “Did you see Santa?” The sudden interruption of Roger’s voice made you jump to which both he and your son giggled.

    “No,” Charlie smiled, “You’re not supposed to see Santa, that’s the point daddy,”

    Roger leaned over, draping himself across your waist, “Well obviously, any old fool knows that. But sometimes, if you’re sneaky enough you can just catch a glimpse.” Charlie’s eyes lit up, “Why don’t you pop downstairs, mummy and I will be right behind. Go peak if Santa got stuck up the chimney?” The boy nodded and set off downstairs filled with determination.

    Roger looked up at you, “Didn’t mean to give you a fright, sorry about that dear,”

    “Its alright,” You ran your fingers through his messy hair, “Just with all this talk of Father Christmas and I thought he’d crawled into bed with me,”

    Roger snorted, “Father Christmas, he talks like a property adult. Did you teach him that?”

    “No, but if we’re narrowing down culprits I’d put Brian under heavy suspension.”

      “Who else to call Santa by the scientific name?”

      The lights on the tree hadn’t been turned off last night and it cast a warm glow against everything. Charlie had already picked up his stocking and settled at the table with his trusty stuffed cow. It was only as old as its owner but, because of Charlie’s insistence to take it everywhere, it was already becoming dingy. At this point, no one could truly recall just how it had come into his possession, although it was agreed upon that Veronica was most likely the one who’d originally bought it. It had also never been determined why Charlie had latched onto that cow in particular because he had several stuffed cows. It had truly been glorious watching your son grow into his tastes, and he was always fond of animals, but from the age of three on he had wanted to be a cowboy. He was obsessed with the idea, painting his room barn red and collecting little animal toys.

    Charlie fiddled with the edge of his stocking as you set a glass of juice in front of him, “Can I open it?”

    “Of course, go on love.” You kissed his forehead and made your way back to the kitchen. It was still so early, just shy of seven o’clock. A red kettled boiled on the back burner as Roger scrambled eggs. You slipped your arms around his waist, leaning into the crook of his neck.

    “Your hands are cold,” Roger murmured, taking one of your hands into his unoccupied one.

    You hummed, “You’re warm,”

    The gentle silence was broken by Charlie, presenting a clear plastic tube filled with little farm animals, “Horses!” He waved it above his head, “I got horses!”

    “Did you?!” Roger called over his shoulder, “That's wonderful! Anything else in there?”

    He fiddled for a moment, reaching around, “I think… socks?” He stared at the fabric in his hands before he realized just what they were, “Cows! They look like cows!” His attention quickly deferred to something else, “I don’t know what this is, what is this mummy?” He held the thin object up.

    “A candy cane,” You patted Roger’s back, pulling away, “It’s to eat, but not right now.” Charlie nodded, inspecting it. The kettle on the stove screeched, calling you to the two teacups set on the counter.

      As plates and mugs were set on the table Charlie set down the final item in his stocking, “An orange?”

    You nodded, starting at your eggs, “For good luck,”

    “Why good luck?” Your son looked at you, seriously inquisitive.

    “Once, a long time ago, oranges were special. They were hard to find so when you’d get one in your stocking it was like a treat.”

    Charlie nodded, “I like oranges,”

    You looked over, towards the seat that housed Roger’s plate, but coincidentally Roger wasn’t there. You could see the top of his head just above the sofa as he looked for something by the tree. He stood abruptly, brandishing a round box wrapped in shiny gold Santa paper. He shook it gently in your direction, obscured from Charlie, and you knew what it was.

    Roger set the package by Charlie’s stuffed cow and settled back into his own seat. Confusion twitched the boy’s brow as he glanced between his father and the box, Roger knew what he was silently asking and nodded, “You can open it,”

    Charlie was still apprehensive as he carefully picked at the tape, trying not to rip the paper. When the outer layer was shed and looked at the cardboard hatbox on the table, “What is it?”

    “You’ve got to take the lid off Chaz,” Roger chuckled, tapping the top.

    “Oh,” Charlie mumbled, pulling up and lifting out the small cowboy hat inside. He gasped softly, admiring the black material before setting it atop his blond mop, “Thank you!” He cried, elated with the hat.

    Charlie’s ‘real cowboy hat’ was the highlight of his night. He wore it through the opening of all the other gifts, he wore it with his overalls to Freddie’s for dinner, he played as a cowboy with the other children all night, and he fell asleep wearing it in the car ride home.

    Roger parked the car and turned the ignition off, “He’s completely asleep, isn’t he?”

    You nodded, “He was nodding off before we left so I’m not surprised.”

    “Poor chap-” Roger grinned at you, “Being a cowboy is tough work I’d reckon.” He unbuckled his seatbelt, “I’ll get him,”

    After your boy had been put down and water made for tea, both you and Roger settled into the couch.

    “Reckon he had a good day?” Roger asked quietly, wrapping an arm around you.

    “I’d imagine. He got to be a cowboy and see everyone, quite possibly his two favourite things,”

    “Good,” The pair of you were content, basking in each other warm presence.

    You snuggled closer to your husband, “You know Rog, at dinner, I think Deaks may have referred to Santa as ‘Father Christmas’.”

    Roger rolled his eyes and sighed, “Why of course, he’s the one teaching our child eloquent words,”

    You leaned up to press a kiss to Roger’s cheek, “Merry Christmas my love,”

    “Merry Christmas to you as well,”

[ashiemochi]

Hi Ashie! I got confused with your and Lyn😭 I wanted to ask you something about a post you've done. You sad you were wating for a laptop and that you would play RE6 and 4 on it. I was wondering, as my laptop is a little old and can't handle games, what brand and characteristics does yours have, if I may ask :3 thank you, and sending you a toon of hugs!!!!!!!😘

hi!! <33 i find it a bit funny that you confused with lynnie and I considering our very opposite themes ngl😭 but, since I don't understand LAPTOP NERD LANGUAGE myself, my brothers helped me around and picked one for me <3

laptop talk below the cut--

My current laptop is a ten-year-old Dell Inspiron 5520, it's not good for gaming like Resi games and it heats up pretty fast by just playing Minecraft 😭 so this type of laptop is not only outdated, but it's only suitable for desk/office work.

My options were an Acer Nitro Gaming Laptop and Asus ROG Strix Gaming Laptop

Here are their characteristics side by side <3

They're almost exactly the same, but ofc the Asus is better due to the hard disk size. Both run games very well (Including GTA V bc that game is one fat and heavy fucker-), you can look up how each run some games from light weight ones to heavy ones (I'm lookin at you GTA V). Meaning, both run Resi games very well and you can see leon's ass in HD <3

Here's games tested in Acer Nitro aaand Asus ROG

In terms of prices, Asus ROG is more expensive ($1,149.99) ((I mean, it glows super pretty and got tons of hard desk space)) but considering its characteristics and how well it runs, it's worth the price <3 It'll last you longer too! Acer Nitro is ($789.99) but I'd definitely recommend Asus ROG ngl sdjkfhsdj

In the end though, I didn't get either of em :') my brother went to buy the Asus ROG buuut it was out of stock </3 cries so he got me an Asus Vivobook 15 X571 (I couldn't find it on amazon 😭)

this chatty guy explains the whole thing better but basically, it's $1,226 and it practically is the same! This video is the same laptop after 3 weeks of daily use and it shows around how the laptop is in SIMPLE 'i don't understand tech language' <3 Personally, I wanted the Asus ROG bc yk, pretty keyboard lights but that's just my inner child loving colours :')

So, yeah! Those were the laptops that I've looked into <3 I hope I helped out a bit! I still don't understand laptops at all much but I'd say go for either Asus ROG or Asus Vivobook! Look for gaming laptops that are around $1,000 and above bc those are the ones that are better and last longer!

Another thrown suggestion is MSI Katana GF66 ($1,289.99 to $1,589.66 depending on the SSD thingie that I almost picked but didn't look too much into because they weren't found in my country </3

<3

[assembledherethevolunteers]

Day 16- Spontaneous Night Out

A/N: Prompt #16 for @acdeaky ‘s writing challenge! I hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing: 80s Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: Roger is bored. You’re overworked. He decides that you both need a break.  

Warnings: Fluff

Taglist: @queenlover05 @theblossomknows

Roger was bored. There was no other way to describe it. He’d come home from the studio and everybody had decided to take the rest of the month off and pick things back up after the New Year. He had only been back for a week and he had barely left the house.

It didn’t help that you were working a lot due to a coworker of yours quitting just before Roger came home.

You came home with an entire briefcase full of paperwork that you’d need to get done before you went back to work on Monday. You threw it onto the dining room before you collapsed into one of the chairs. You pulled out some paperwork, ready to get started.

Roger walked in and saw you going back to work.

“What are you doing, love?”

“Working,” you replied, not looking up.

Roger walked over and looked at the papers in your hand. He couldn’t quite make it out, so he leaned in closer.

You looked at him. “Can I help you?”

“Just wondering what you’re working on.”

You sighed. “Can you not, please?”

“I think you need a break, sweetheart.”

“I can’t afford to take a break. I need to get all this done before Monday.”

Roger frowned at you before he thought of something. He pressed a kiss to your temple before he disappeared upstairs.

You loved him, but you were also a bit happy that he had gone upstairs. You needed to get some things done.

Roger reappeared after a few minutes. He stood, just smiling at you until you looked up at him. He seemed to be in different clothes, a suit it looked like.

“What?”

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Out. We could go to the theatre, or dinner, or both. Maybe just go for a walk, but you need a break.”

“Rog,” you sighed before looking back to your papers. “I can’t.”

“Y/N,” Roger’s voice was stern enough that it made you look up again. “You can work later. Come on, we haven’t even seen the lights downtown yet.”

You stared up at him, debating in your head. You supposed a couple hours wouldn’t be too bad. Plus, you could just stay up later to get things done.

“Fine. Three hours. And then I need to get home.”

You ran upstairs to get dressed. You weren’t sure why, but you felt giddy. Maybe it was because you and Roger hadn’t had the time to spend time together. A date was exactly what you needed.

You came downstairs, wearing a dress, done your hair and makeup, things you hadn’t done for what felt like ages.

Roger smiled at you, happy that you were finally taking a break. He stood up from the couch, took your hand, and spun you around.

You giggled and got closer to him.

“So, I thought of what you said and I think I have an idea.”

“What’s that?”

“We can walk to that bistro, and then walk to that shopping area. They are always decorated so beautifully for Christmas.”

“Perfect, love.” The two of you bundled up, ready to take your somewhat short walk to the bistro where the two of you had your first date. It had turned into one of your favorite places.

The fresh air immediately made you feel better. You and Roger walked with your gloved hands intertwined. You hated to admit it, but he had been right.

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, so happy to see you tonight,” the woman at the hostess stand said as you walked in. She grabbed two menus and lead the two of you to your usual table.

“Well hello, you two,” Hannah, your usual waitress, came over. “Wasn’t expecting you this evening.”

“Y/N here has been a bit stressed out at work, so I decided she needed some time to relax.”

Hannah gave you a sympathetic look. “I’ll go get the wine,” Hannah turned on heel and left.

Roger reached over and took your hand, rubbing your knuckled with his thumb. You smiled at him.

The two of you caught up, Roger telling you about a songs that he had been working on since he’d been home and you told him why you’d been so busy at work. It felt good to get everything off your chest.

“...and Shawn is even doing things. That’s how bad it’s gotten,” you told him and then finished your chicken.

“Wow,” Roger scoffed. “Never thought you’d see that day.”

“You’re telling me,” you agreed, taking a drink of your wine.

“I’ll grab those plates from you two,” Hannah appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. She grabbed the plates and looked to you. “Any pudding tonight?”

“Oh no, I don’t think so. Rog?” You looked at him pointedly, letting him know you were ready to go.

“I agree. I think we’ll just take the ticket,” Roger gave Hannah one of those dazzling smiles.

“I’ll be right back.”

Hannah came back with the ticket and Roger paid before the two of you stood up. Roger helped you get your jacket on. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before the two of you walked out, waving to the regular workers there as you did.

You followed Roger as he led you to the strip of small stores and boutiques, all of which were decorated for the holidays. The soft glow of the fairy lights, the shop windows filled with displays for Christmas and a couple for Hanukkah, made you feel better. It actually got you in the Christmas spirit, which you had to admit had been difficult to get into that year.

You wrapped your arm around Roger’s waist, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight,” Roger whispered to you, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Thank you for making me come out. I really did need it.”

“So, you’re saying I was right.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you teased. “But I am thankful you got me out of the house. And I’m sorry that I haven’t be able to spend much time with you since you’ve been home.”

“I understand, dear. It’s just that I don’t want you to get burnt out.”

“I know you don’t,” you pulled Roger to a stop. “And thank you, again.” You stretched up and kissed him.

Roger kissed you back and then pulled away with a smile. “Anytime, my love. Anytime.”

[somebodytoolove]

The Day Will Dawn of Sanity

Platonic!Freddie Mercury x Reader

Summary: Halloween night with Freddie.

Word Count: 390

Originally posted: October 31st, 2020

October 31st, 1987. Halloween. The sun has disappeared for the evening, the moon shines bright, with a slight chill in the air. The streets glow with purple and orange lights, pumpkins on porches, spider-webs in the windows…

Behind you, clicking on the pavement can be heard. “Darling, slow down,” Freddie is wearing a sparkling red evening gown and red heels. The matching red wig sits tightly on his head.

“Hurry up, we’re gonna miss out on all of the good candy!” you say with a laugh. He scoffs, “I can only go so fast in these, dear.”

The plan is to go trick-or-treating for a couple of hours before meeting at Brian’s for an all-night scary movie marathon.

The two of you walk up to the first house. “Fred! Y/N! Over here!” a hushed voice calls from a bush next to the sidewalk. “…Roger?! What are you doing back there? Come up and get some candy with us,” Freddie says softly. “No, look!” Roger holds up a bag with over a dozen eggs in it, “I’m gonna throw them at the house,” he laughs. You and Freddie share an eye-roll. “Have fun, darling. We’ll see you at Brian’s.”

*

The night passes quickly with the two of you going house to house filling your bags with all of the sweets you can imagine. “My favorite are the candy necklaces,” Freddie holds the treat up to his neck, “it matches my dress, doesn’t it?” “Oh yes, you look marvelous, darling!” you say in a silly voice. Laughing, he puts his arm around your shoulder as you continue on.

Everyone is already at Brian’s when you arrive. As you approach the house, you see John and Roger engaging in a very animated conversation on the porch. “…and the old woman chased me for ten minutes before I finally got away!” Roger cries. John is nearly in tears laughing, “Oh, Rog. Only you would still be egging houses at your age.” “Hey!” Roger shoves him. You and Freddie come up by the door, “Look at all the candy we got, dear!” Just then, Brian peeks his head out, “Oh good, you’re all here now. Everyone come in, we’re gonna start the movie.”

*

And if Freddie hides his face behind your shoulder all night, no one needs to know.

[theelvenhaven]

The order of which the Gondolin and Feanorian elves would allow/enjoy make up being put on them. Pleeeeaaase!!!!

Of course I can!!! ☺️ Elves usually aren’t very big on make up as far as we know BUT if the circumstances were right or if it was widely available like it for us I’m sure they’d indulge! Let it be noted that this whole answer took on a life of its own lol

Fëanorians

Fëanor -  Fëanor, being who he is, is extremely confident in his appearance and his beauty and feels that it needs no enhancing what so ever. I think he would’ve absolutely experimented with it first though before deciding he didn’t need to wear it. Content with you applying a couple of different things, like eyeliner and mascara and even some highlighter. He understands the appeal but again he is confident he doesn’t need it. In turn Fëanor would absolutely apply make up to you instead, expect for subtle feature enhancing application until it comes to lipstick. Expect bold and rich colors as well as shiny and glossy gloss, he loves to smear your lipstick at the end of the day with a heated and passionate kiss.

Maedhros - Maedhros especially pre Angband wouldn’t bother with any, if you wore any of course he wouldn’t say anything. In fact he’d like the way mascara makes your lashes longer and giving the illusion your eyes are bigger. Post Angband that would change specifically in the name of concealer and foundation. Wanting to hide any scars that he could, he wouldn’t allow for anyone but himself to apply it. And he’d have no interest in anything else but concealer in foundation when the times could allow for it in the midst of his oath and war.

Maglor - Pre flight, Maglor would love highlighter and possibly even mascara! He’s a preformer, so anything that would enhance his beauty subtly would be accepted. Though he’d be averse to lipsticks and eyeliner and bright blushes. Concealer and foundation wouldn’t be necessary considering his skin is flawless. He loved it when you’d put highlighter on him and how gentle you worked with him. Post flight he wouldn’t worry about it, there’s too much happening and not enough time to indulge in such luxuries.

Celegorm - Celegorm’s version of make up would be extremely different as opposed to more classic wear and use. I think for him it would be more like face paint for the sake of hunting and blending in more effectively with the terrain. He’s completely opposed to wearing any make up other than that, and will allow you to apply his face paint. You wearing make up on the other hand is completely okay and encouraged, especially encouraging you to wear bright red lipstick.

Caranthir - Caranthir I feel like would possibly like eyeliner, not anything heavy of course. Just a subtle line around his lash lines, and he’s an expert at keeping it from running and smudging. Caranthir isn’t big on letting you apply it onto him considering it’s his eyes and is mildly fearful you’ll stab him on accident. He hates concealers and foundations and especially blushes. If you’re in a relationship and wear blush he’d find it somewhat endearing that you’d want your face to look similar to his. But if you’re big on wearing foundation and concealer anticipate him to be cold about you wearing it. Especially if you are constantly telling him how much you love his rosy face as is, he finds it completely and totally hypocritical that you tell him not to alter his complexion while you do it in turn.

Curufin - Curufin, like Caranthir, would like wearing eyeliner! Rather than wearing around his whole eye like Cara would, he’d wear it just on his bottom lashline. He’d not be up for you putting it on him at all, not so much because you might stab him, it’s just because he’s stubborn. I feel like Curufin would also get creative with his liner, wanting to possibly make his appearance look more regal and intimidating. Like Celegorm and Caranthir, he’d be opposed to anything else. As opposed to you putting any make up on him, Curufin I think would enjoy dolling you up instead. 

Amrod & Amras - Amrod and Amras are still considerably much younger than their brothers and I think they would be experimental in what make up they’d wear. Even allowing you to experiment on their faces, and taking your suggestions to heart. They’d also certainly follow Celegroms lead on the face paint, considering they are hunters as well. Some days they might be more partial to eyeliner, another day blush or highlighter, or just mascara.

Celebrimbor - I think he’d take after his grandfather on this one, while he sees the appeal to wearing make up he just isn’t big on it. He appreciates the art to it and how beautiful it is, but it’s just not for him. He spends too much time in the forges anyways, sweating it all off to worry about keeping it on. He does like when you wear minimal make up as well, preferring a more natural look. Though even if you prefer a less natural look, Celebrimbor will think you are gorgeous either way. He loves you regardless of what you wear and what you do. 

Gondolin

Turgon - I feel like Turgon would have mixed feelings about make up, he’d appreciate what it can do but he’d be a sucker for staying more natural. In the privacy of your chambers when it is just you two, he’d allow for subtle looks to be applied. No eyeliner or lipsticks though, and he wouldn’t wear it outside of your chambers. I think he’d have an affinity for the highlighter and heavily consider wearing it to court or doing his daily duties, but would be a little nervous about doing so. Keeping him to stay natural.

Glorfindel - He loves highlighter and blushes and maybe even some lip balm. Nothing too over the top of course, being an elf again that natural look is going to take priority. But he loves the extra sparkle it adds to his natural glow already, and he is absolutely content and relaxed to you applying the make up to him. He also loves to see you wearing make up as well, again more partial to natural looks. But he is content if you wear a little more heavier highlighter than he does. 

Salgant - I don’t think Salgant would be partial to any make up at all, not wanting to stray at all from his natural look. Unlike Turgon, he would be completely adverse to you applying anything on him at all, even just to experiment and for fun. I also think Salgant would be adverse to you wearing any make up as well, wanting you to be completely natural. 

Rog - Rog is very go with the flow and extremely laid back, but when it comes to make up it’s not something he will wear especially in public. It doesn’t help that he does spend copious amounts of time sweaty in the forges, and all of your hard work would wash away from the sweat. On nights when you both are goofing around, and if you ask Rog will let you apply make up to him. Even if you make it utterly ridiculous he will only laugh, but expect for the same to happen to you. The more outrageous you make him look, he will be sure to do the same to you in turn.

Ecthelion - He’s not very big on make up, preferring none at all for himself. Ecthelion feels that he doesn’t need to wear anything to enhance his features. Feeling that his features are beautiful enough, and he is adverse to experimentation to it because he knows he doesn’t need it. As for you, even if Ecthelion prefers no make up, he isn’t going to go out of his way to tell you that how he feels. If you like wearing make up and the extra confidence it gives you, he is content with that. 

Penlod - Penlod feels no particular way about make up at all, I think he’d try and experiment with a little bit of everything. From more subtle looks, to a little more bold (nothing ever over the top.). He’d happily let you apply anything that you wanted to his face, wanting to see what all the looks you could come up with. Depending on how bold you go he’d wear it for the day, and absolutely would he experiment make up looks on you constantly if you allow for it. 

Maeglin - Expect absolutely no room for experimentation or application on Maeglin by your own two hands for a considerable amount of time. Considering that require a great deal of trust and comfort that he would have to share with you before even letting you touch his face like that. Maeglin would probably be more partial to eyeliner and concealer. He’d like how black liner could make his eyes pop and be even brighter than they already are, probably wearing a thicker line as opposed to a thin one. He’d certainly use the concealer to hide the purple bags under his eyes from all of his lack of sleep. Maeglin would admire and enjoy when you wear make up, liking the way it makes your eyes look brighter, and the way your skin would sparkle and the way your lips would be tinted. 

Galdor - Galdor prefers the simplicity of lip balm and nothing else, in fact he produces it himself! He’s not big on anything other than that for himself, being so laid back he doesn’t mind what else you like to wear. Other than that he won’t really allow you to apply much of anything to his face, save the lipbalm. He’s a simple ellon with simple tastes!

Duílin - Duilin I think would be like Celegorm and Ambarussa in the name of face paint for hunting before Gondolin was completed. I’m sure he loved the thrill of the hunt and all that entailed with it. As for make up outside of his face paint, he prefers nothing. He does however have a preference for when you wear mascara and blush, he loves the rosy color added to your face. Thinking you’re even more beautiful with it on. 

Egalmoth - Egalmoth loves highlighter, and light tinted lip balm for himself. He loves the sparkle in highlighter and likes to look even more radiant especially when he is decked out in all of his jewelry. Egalmoth prefers pale pink lip balms to add a little more color to his face, and he prefers applying it himself. Though he will relinquish his control to let you do it if you asked. In turn Egalmoth also loves to apply make up to you as well. Adding extra highlighter and bolder colors of lip balm or lipstick to your face.

* * *

tags:

@lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandom-hoe101 @icarus-fell-in-spring

[illfoandillfie]

5, 6, 10, & 12 from the kinky smut prompts list and 1, 6, & 9 from the hardcore smut prompt list!! I was thinking of them all in the same blurb(?) but you do whatever floats your boat!! And could I have it with 80s Rog?? He gives off major daddy energy 👀😳

Anon I’m 🥵🥵 I was going to leave this one til a bit later but I literally couldn’t stop thinking about so here we are. 

extreme bondage + dom/sub dynamic + orgasm denial + begging + rough sex + jackhammering + spanking

OOF

You’d been with Roger for close to a year the first time he suggested you try playing with bondage. It made you laugh a little from how out of the blue it came.

“What, you wanna handcuff me to a wall in your dungeon?” you broke into giggles again.

“I wouldn’t call it a dungeon since it’s on one of the upper floors. Quite well lit too. And I can do so much more than cuff you there.”

You laughed again, assumed it was a joke, but then he’d shown you what he was talking about. It was well lit, he’d been truthful about that. And about having more than just handcuffs. There were cuffs of course, thick leather ones with heavy metal buckles that would be impossible to escape from without some help. There was a set of more traditional metal ones too, though no feathery fluff in sight. Towards the edge of the room was a single bed, fresh sheets and a pillow, though it’s head and foot boards reminded you of jail bars if a bit cleaner and more stylish. You suppose it was easy to restrain someone there and you found yourself feeling more than a little excited by the prospect. Beside the bed were a number of foam blocks in different shapes, things to prop up hips and necks, things to be bent over. And then there was the cupboard. It looked unassuming, but inside were lengths of rope and silk blindfolds, ball and ring gags, spreader bars and a host of other items you’d only seen in porn magazines.

“We don’t have to do anything if you aren’t comfortable with it, but I figured it was time you knew about this room. In case that scares you off,” he drew his lip between his teeth, worrying at it as you took in your surroundings.

“We should start small. Maybe see how I like being handcuffed to the wall before you show me anything too crazy,”

Roger had grinned at that, relieved you hadn’t run away screaming.

 f course, now was a different story. You were far beyond just cuffs, acquainted with most of his toys and his whims. And you loved it. Loved when he bent you over, contorted your body into positions that you hoped looked better than they felt, and tied you in place, unable to move out of the way of whatever he wanted to give you. He could be surprisingly romantic with it sometimes. One memorable birthday had seen you bound to the bed, the room awash in the glow of candles as soft love songs filled the gaps between your moans. He’d gone down on you until your legs shook and your voice was hoarse. But that wasn’t what he had on his mind this time. No, this time the wooden saw-horse (a not-quite-thick-enough wooden beam held up by four legs) had been dragged out of its corner, into the centre of the room. There you’d been bound, arms tied to the horse itself, legs to hooks in the ceiling, leaving you nearly bent in half and completely on display for him. The horse put you closer to the ground than the bed did, making Roger seem more intimidating as he paced around you, taking you in. He took his time, plotting out how best to play with you. When he did finally touch you he went just as slowly. Roger liked teasing you, liked how you’d squirm and whine, unable to change what was happening or break free, unless of course you used your safe word. But he wasn’t worried about that happening, certainly not so early. An hour in and he’d not even begun to undress himself, completely focused on you.

It usually took you a while to reach the first edge but Roger never tried to rush you. He took great delight in touching you, fingering you, slowly feeling you getting wetter and wetter. And he made sure to tell you so.

“Good girl. You like when Daddy plays with your little cunt, don’t you? Like how it feels when I give you my fingers,”

You nodded but it wasn’t a strong enough response so he reminded you of his expectations with a sharp spank to your arse, perfectly positioned for the punishment.

“I asked you a question Kitten,”

“Yes Daddy,” you gasped.

“Yes Daddy what?” another spank.

“Yes Daddy I like your fingers!”

“Better. Don’t slip up again.”

And then it was back to the soft touches, the light circles around your clit, making you hum as the pleasure built. He probably didn’t need you to tell him when you were getting close, could probably feel it from the way your body reacted to him. But he liked it all the same. So you warned him as you felt your orgasm approaching and he praised you as he removed his fingers from you, grinning.

“Now we can get started,”

 After that was a blur. A heady mixture of his fingers over and in your cunt, stopping when you were on the verge of release, over and over again. It made your head spin. Especially when he brought his hand down on your arse or your thighs or your pussy, a harsh slap so different from how else he was touching you. You enjoyed it more than you probably should have, able to feel your arousal dripping down your backside after so much teasing and spanking. Roger made sure to comment on what a messy slut you were, gathering some of the sticky damp on his fingers before shoving them between your lips. That’s when he paused to undress himself. Sometimes he didn’t even do that much, just pulled his cock out ready to press it into whichever hole he wanted most. Undressing was an inconvenience he didn’t always want to endure. Today he deigned to remove all his clothes, but you knew it wasn’t for your benefit. It was to make things easier for himself. When he was done he came back towards you, stroked his fingers over you again, and made you beg for him.

“Tell me what you want Kitten,” he stood close, tapped his length against your soaking cunt, making you jolt each time.

“Please fuck me Daddy,” your voice sounded whinny to your own ears, muffled a little by your position.

“Why should I?”

“Because you like the way my cunt feels,”

“That’s true. But I just don’t know if you’re ready for me yet. I might have to edge you for a while longer yet,”

“No, no Daddy, please don’t. Please. I promise I’m ready and I want you. Please, please, please fuck me, I don’t need any more edges, I’ll be good and take you so well. Please Daddy,”

Your begging was cut off by the way he slammed himself into you, deep and fast, giving you no time to adjust before he began fucking you. It was all you could do to remember to breathe as he pistoned into you, gripping onto your legs tightly. Deliciously fast and rough. You were thankful that he’d tied you down, bound you in place so the force of it didn’t have you jolting further up the wooden beam. He’d slip out of you if that were the case and you didn’t want that. You loved when he got like this, when he used you. But it made it hard to concentrate on anything other than the way his cock felt slamming into you over and over. He’d spank you intermittently, whenever he felt you starting to drift away again, getting too lost in how it was to be so utterly out of control. Each slap pulled you back to the present, making the desperate need in your belly feel twice as strong as before, only growing as he filled you and fucked you.

You began to beg again, not for him to slow down or stop or anything like that. You begged to be allowed the orgasm he’d been denying you. A senseless wave of words and sounds that he could barely piece together. The only way he’d have been able to shut you up was with a gag (something he knew from experience) but, luckily for you, he rather enjoyed your begging. The way you’d whine and plead and cry, brought to tears but how badly you wanted it, how thoroughly he’d built you up and ripped away hope at the last second. But today wasn’t about you, it never had been. Roger doesn’t deny you so that he can eventually give you an earth shatteringly, mind-blowingly powerful orgasm. He doesn’t deny you to give in to your requests a few hours later. He denies you because he likes how wet you get, how eagerly you take him. He fucked you ruthlessly, hands as far from your clit as they can be, so that you feel enough to make you clench on his cock that way he likes, without giving you any more false hope. And then, when he couldn’t hold out any longer, when your clenching and begging had pushed him as far as he was willing to go, he came in you. Filling your cunt, watching it spill out as he pulled himself from you. He praised you of course.

“Good girl for taking me so well. Good girl for not cumming,”

And then he carefully untied you, making sure that the tears and sobs weren’t from pain, just disappointment and desperation. When he was sure you were okay he asked what you wanted next.

“I want to cum Daddy,” you think it’s probably not worth asking for. Last time he said no, offering instead a warm bath and a hot cup of tea and his embrace for the rest of the night. A fine enough deal and one you’d be happy to be offered again. But you might as well try to get your release.

Roger thinks about it for a moment, tracing his thumb down the side of your cheek. He must be in a more lenient mood because instead of refusal you hear, “Okay. But you’ll have to earn it.”

[shortyisweird9]

'Lonely ghost serie'

Chek and heartache- part III

Tw⚠️:swearing, referring of dark themes such as suicide attempt and mental illness.

The morning rays hit your eyes gently, tangible by their warmth,as you forced yourself from another dream of nothing but blank.

You groaned as your cat,Didi, comes running towards you: purring, meowing and chirping in pure happiness. You knew the reason she does this; your previous cat, Martha or Dildo- your roommate Sergiu called her that because of her dickish attitude with him- used to do this everytime so the little one, Didi, just followed her mother's lead.

Everytime she does that is like a small needle stabs at your heart especially when just 2 weeks passed since Martha died of old age- the black cat was adopted when she was senior, abused and malnourished, your heart knew you couldn't leave her to be laid to rest like a nothing. You adopted her, she bit you and you petted her, she hissed you hugged her, you did everything you could think of to show love even brush her fur with a wet toothbrush end to mimic sweet kisses coming from her mom. The cat soon realized that and started living again. Cautious of your other 3 roommates, cuddly with you.

Anyway, you got sidetracked with reminiscing. You heard your friends in the kitchen, Sabrina throwing away the take out boxes and Sergiu preparing some tea, probably to calm his stomach after all the spicy curry he ate last night.

You fixed the oversized white t-shirt and pull the marine blue shorts out of your bottoms, Didi already waiting you by the door.

You all, Sabrina,Sergiu,Ace and you, live in a quaint apartment, turned from campus housing, right next to one of the malls of the city. It had two small bathrooms, a living room , three petite bedrooms ,a tiny kitchen, a rounded balcony and a hallway. It was much smaller than your family home but it was in a central zone where your family home was outside the city's boundaries. You chose it not only because you wanted to spare your family from driving you to university but also because you needed your freedom, your space. Your parents were very understanding of that.

-Y/n e trează? ( "Is Y/n awake?") Ace asked as he sipped on his black cofee.

Without, he would pretty much be a grumpy hedgehog with spiky tealish mohawk. And who wouldn't love that?

-Nu încă, ah! Uite-o! ("Not yet,ah! There she is") Sabrina exclaimed, getting up to hug you and leaving the smoking tea cup by the window.

"Hello." You said ,voice grungy and eyes shut from the light.

You felt the warm hands of your Arabic friend on your face filled with moles and couple of marks from recently popped pimples, you let yourself be engrossed into it ,the touch starvation you carry like a cross chosing for you.

You hear her laugh, she always had a pretty laugh and a prettier smile . She was the beauty of the group, with big puffy sand yellow curls, brown skin with red undertones and black eyes who glow in pure happiness. She was stunning and a sweetheart with an obsession on the colour red and butterflies.

"Someone is needy." Ace teased.

"Shut up or I will staple those hair triangles on your scalp. "

You wanted to say something better but Sabrina then started massaging your lower face in a circular manner with her thumb. You knew you couldn't do anything anymore except melt.

-Anyway ,unde e Sergiu? ("Anyway, where is Sergiu?")

-Ți-o făcut ceai, cane e pervaz. S-o dus până sus să o ajute pe Florentina.("He made you tea, the cup is on the windowsill. He went upstairs to help Florentina.") He said, taking another sip of his cup.

-Ooooh, Florentina. You two began as Ace shook his head in amusement.

You and Sabrina were known to be ruthless in your teasing of the guitarist with long brown locks and beard.

Florentina was a crush of his, a freshman in the University of Arts who played the violin beautifully. Small,with olive skin, long red hair keept in a 1960s hairstyle and green petite with a triangular shaped face. She was a sweetie with a love for fantasy book ,autumn and ferrets.

-Oh, yeah?

-Dup, iubitul ei se mută cu ea. ("Yup, her boyfriend moves in with her")

-Oh.

Ace sucked in his lip ,his face filled with disappointment just like theirs now.

-That sucks.

-Numai spune,Sabrina.("You don't say,Sabrina")

Just then, the door clicked shut. Sergiu is back, this will be awkward.

-Ce vă uitați așa la mine?("Why are you looking at me like that?")

Neither of them could properly looked into the warm brown eyes of the man whose glow seemed to fade a bit, Sergiu was a stubborn man who shut his feelings deep inside, only through his song you could tell he was suffering. Just like you, I suppose.

-Am auzit...("We heard...")

You bit your lips as your long fingers played with each other, twisting and tugging while your nerves grew. Last thing you wanted was another fight where you all force the man to open up. He had suicidal tendencies, sometimes he came too close to actually do it but you were there and you needed to be there now too, even if he doesn't like being taking care of.

Sergiu rolled his eyes at you, his heart hurt from how rigid your posture was, eyes were worried about him but also scared, teeth grinding themselves not out of anger but out of care and fear.

He knew you hated arguments and shouts with dying passion. You always cried when someone raised their voice in less than friendly manner, you hated this reaction of complete terror, you hated looking weak but now you hated letting your friend burn himself because of an unfortunate love triangle. So you swallowed your nerves and braved on, it's about him ,not you.

Sergiu wanted to protect you all from this negativity, especially you and Ace. You had a big event to organise , Ace's sex reassignment surgery is coming up soon. You both have your own problems to dwell ,you didn't need to have him as one too.

However somewhere in his head, a voice telling him that he was wrong ,that voice that took the shape of you in the night of July.

You were crying, your grey hoodie wet from the rain as you cling desperately to him, not daring to move.

He was the reason why you crying, why you yelled profanities our of worry for what he was about to do. He...He tried to throw himself off a bridge ,the same bridge you two first shared your kiss.

That dark episode still irked your minds in the darker moments, late in the night nothing but your mind to keep you company and that's torture in itself.

You thought you could help him, change whatever hurts him and make it go away. That was your biggest mistake, you can't change a person that's not your duty , your duty was to support them through tough times and help them see the light at the end of the dark tunnel. A duty you solemnly swore to uphold even if he didn't liked you to. There's no fucking way you let him do that again,not if you can be there for him. Like he was always there for you, your big guardian with a guitar that spews flames in shape of songs.

-Y/n..

-Te rog, Sergiu. Nu ascunde. ("Please, Sergiu. Don't hide.")

Your eyes were desperate for him to talk it out in any shape or form. They implore for him to vent, to not hid between fake lies like " I am okay" or "I'm fine."

-Bine,bine. Tu ești șefa. ("Fine,fine. You're the boss.")

————————————————————

They talked and talked and cried and laughed and cried again. A never ending circle of venting ,small earthquakes which instead of fracturing the friendship , it onlyakes it stronger as it should.

-Te simți mai bine?("You feeling better?") Your voice ran timidly on the top of your apartment building, watching over the brutalist styled architecture.

-Un pic, doare știi dar asta îmi arată cât de îndrăgostit sunt de ea. Iubirea adevărată pentru mine nu se referă doar la a iubi doar dacă te iubește reciproc, nu , să iubești fără să forțezi persoană să te iubească înapoi. Să îi porți de grijă, să o protejezi, să o ajuți fără să fi un egoist, fără să te aștepți să fi iubit înapoi. ("A little, it hurts you know but this shows how much I love her. True love for me doesn't mean to love just so they will love you back, no, to love someone without forcing them to love you back. To care for them, to protect them, to help them without being an egotistic, to love without expecting to be loved back.")

-Poetic.

He laughed at that , starring at the setting sun ,his lit cigar forgotten fumed between his painted fingers. His hair blown gently by the wind , he looked like a masterpiece.

-Scuze..pentru tot.("Sorry...for everything. ")

-N-ai de ce. Mi-ai făcut chec până la urmă așa că balanța eternă este restabilită.("You don't have a reason to be. You made me chek in the end and thus the eternal balance is restored.") You joked, munching quietly on the piece of cake, his jacket keeping you warm.

-Haha. Cine ar fi crezut că checul are fi o gustare bună când îți dai vent.("Haha. Who would have thought that chek will be a good snack when you vent.")

Indeed, who would have thought of that but one who cried in the sore days filled with heart ache.

————————————————————

Hey,guys!💖

Hope you like the third part of the serie, I wanted to focus on "your life" and your friends backgrounds this time. The translations are not 100% word to word but enought to give you context.

Anyway, I hope you like it. Stay safe!

Tagged 💗💗:@moolujk @gaysludge @simonsbluee @yoyoanaria @cherry-piee @magenta-skyline @yikesyikesyikes95

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 18

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 18 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 17 / Part 19

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: swearing, drinking, sentiments of sadness

Historical Inaccuracies: N/A

Word Count: 4k

A/N: this is going to get really fucking sappy from here on until the end. you have been warned.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You would come to miss those days on tour.

Those days were some of the best days of your life.

It was the eclectic array of nights spent dancing in clubs somewhere halfway across the world, where you had hardly any idea what the reference point for ‘halfway’ was.

You no longer measured the distance from home, because it was with you always now.

You finally understood all those stupidly sappy people, with their stupidly sappy sentiments about how home was not a place but a feeling.

Because Brian was that feeling.

It was the mornings in the UK where you discovered you had not seen all there was to see, the afternoons on the East Coast of the United States where you met a thousand new people, the evenings on the West Coast where you learned to surf, the nights in Japan where you didn’t speak the language and relied on universal symbols to do the talking for you, incoherent late-night-early-morning hours spent on god knew what tour bus or flight, leaned against Brian who slept as little as you. He awoke at every little jolt or sound, but did so with his hand in yours or resting lightly on your thigh, a small smile on his lips to ask if you were alright. You were always far better than simply alright, because it was all those little things that you lived for, because now, they were your life. And they made you feel alive. At home and alive.

When you’d returned to the tour bus on the route to Taunton, you’d been holding his hand, and it seemed that everyone had been anticipating this change, because the reactions were immediate.

“Did you two fucking finally get together?” said Roger, and the rest of the Queen entourage turned to look at you.

“Y/N!” Heather cried. “You didn’t think to tell me?!”

You reddened, fighting the urge to pull your fingers from Brian’s and run out the door. “It’s sort of a new thing—”

“When?” John piped up. “When did it happen?”

“Deacy!” Freddie cried. “Interrupting is rude. Finish your sentence, Y/N darling, then tell us when.”

You stammered, “I— um—”

“Liverpool,” said Brian firmly, wrapping his arm around your waist and dropping a kiss to your head. “We’ll be taking no further questions at this time.”

He then swept you with him to the seats at the back of the bus and proceeded to read to you from one of the many Hermann Hesse novels he’d packed, and his voice lulled you into a much-needed sleep.

And from that day on, the two of you became inseparable.

Every word you breathed was with Brian in mind, orchestrated in sentences to make him laugh in a way that warmed you down to your fingertips and toes, uttered for him because he was there and he would understand what you were talking about. It wasn’t a conscious thing, but it seemed that he was everywhere, influencing all that you did, because everything about him made you so ridiculously happy.

Those days were some of the best days of your life.

And some of the worst.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Bournemouth, 23rd of November, 1975

It was in Bournemouth, on the way down to the lobby, that you found the door to Freddie and Mary’s hotel room open, and the latter packing up her things.

There was no one else there and the empty hallway was quiet, but the kind of quiet in which chaos had only recently departed. A hesitance hung in the air, as though the occupants of the hotel, wherever they were, collectively held their breath.

The door was open in a manner that made you think that it had been left that way, a mess that remained unfixed, rather than an invitation to enter.

Still, Mary was alone, you could tell as much, so, thinking the circumstances strange, you approached the room and rapped your knuckles lightly against the wooden doorframe.

“Mary?”

“I’m going,” she said, without looking up.

You frowned. “Going where?”

“Home,” she slammed the suitcase shut. “To London.”

Surely, it couldn’t be so bad with Freddie that she was really going home. You couldn’t imagine wanting to leave tour life. There were so many places to go, to see, and that first night in the wings— that feeling. You’d never give that up. But maybe Mary no longer got that feeling, when she was watching someone her heart had deemed a stranger.

“Now?”

She sighed, in a way that made her countenance suddenly more sad than angry. “Now,” she affirmed. “Have to figure out what happens next.”

You nodded, your understanding contrite but understanding nonetheless. It would be strange to be around Queen without Mary, now that you were also without Veronica. The feeling was one of falling apart, of growing smaller. The warm days of Ridge Farm were gone, and so were many of the familial bonds.

On her way out the door, Mary touched your shoulder. “I hope you and Brian will be happy together. He’s a lovely soul, and so are you.”

You blushed. “Thank you.”

She flashed you a brief, melancholy smile, and went on her way.

No one left Freddie alone for the next many nights, a support system of bad jokes and too much wine constructed to drive away the loneliness, the loneliness that would have plagued anyone at the loss of their best friend.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

England, Late December, 1975

Roger made a face. “Where the hell is he?”

Deacy only glanced at his watch and shook his head.

“He’s always complaining that I’m late,” Freddie voiced his woe, “but now where’s he? Fucking late, that’s where!” Freddie patted your shoulder. “No offense, darling.”

“Uh,” you said bemusedly, “none taken?”

“Well,” Freddie sighed, “he is your boyfriend after all.”

Just then, as the doors to the lift began to close for the third time, and no one paid any mind to stop them from doing so, Brian hurtled around the corner and slipped through the tightening gap, just in time.

“Why, speak of the devil,” Freddie deadpanned, shuffling farther back to accommodate for the elevator’s fifth passenger.

“The sun,” you said. “It’s the sun.”

Deacy snorted. “It would be, for you.”

Brian glanced around, his complexion rendered in a rosy glow from whatever dash he’d just made to the lift. “Sorry about that. What’d I miss?” He turned to you, one of his pretty smiles skimming across his face like moonlight on river water. “Hi love,” he said, his touch falling to your arms as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“Hi gorgeous,” you replied, a swell of warmth in your chest as he lingered in his proximity to you.

“Oh, kiss her properly!” Roger cried.

“Yeah,” John laughed. “Kiss her properly, Brian.”

Brian sighed, but it was adoration that was in his eyes when he bent to kiss your mouth with tenderness that melted you. He pulled away all too soon.

“I would kiss her properly,” he said to Freddie’s tutting, “and I bloody well will—” your skin tingled with the weight of his hand on your waist— “but I have something to tell you all, so if you’d just shut up for a second, that’d be great.”

“Spit it out, then,” Freddie urged with a wave of his hand, and Brian rolled his eyes.

“Your song, Fred,” he said pointedly.

Freddie smirked. “Yes, darling. Which one? I’ve got many you know.”

“Bohemian Rhapsody!” Brian said.

“Our song,” Freddie corrected.

“Well, whatever it is,” Brian shook his head as though in disbelief, “it’s only bloody went and gone to number one on the UK charts!”

Deacy’s mouth fell open. Freddie blinked.

“You’re shitting me,” Roger said.

“No, Rog. Not this time.”

There was a pause.

And then the lift erupted into absolute mania.

Screaming and shouting and jumping up and down, Freddie crushing the lot of you in a fierce hug, Brian peppering your hair with kisses in excitement as tears pricked the eyes of Deacy, and Roger nearly pulled out his hair in running his fingers so violently through it.

You had never before experienced such plain, unbridled joy, and to think that you were not only present to witness this, but that you had been part of the reason for the monumental occasion, floored you, brought your own wave of emotion as you shared in the happiness of your friends.

Until of course the elevator shuddered to a halt, and the five of you were thrown into a contorted heap on the dusty floor.

“Shit, fuck!” Roger swore, having hit his head rather hard on the railing that lined the elevator box.

Freddie rubbed his elbow as he sat up, pulled Deacy up beside him. “Now, dears, is the time to confess if you’re claustrophobic.”

Brian tugged you into a sitting position, his hands fluttering all about you. “Love? You’re not hurt, are you?”

You shook your head. “No, no. I’m fine. Are you okay?”

He nodded, kissed the top of your head. He was rather affectionate these days, but you did not mind in the slightest. It was wonderful to feel so loved, as loved as he made you feel.

“If resident idiot one and resident idiot two are quite finished professing their undying love,” John interrupted, and you blushed, “then we should probably press the emergency call button.”

“Oh, right,” Brian mumbled, and being the closest, reached over and pushed the big red button that mothers were always telling their children not to push.

You all looked on raptly, but no light illuminated the red plastic.

“We’re doomed,” Freddie groaned.

“You can’t actually starve to death within an hour,” Brian said, “which is probably the maximum amount of time it’ll take for someone to notice we’re gone, track us down, and get us out.”

“But I could die of boredom within the hour,” Roger argued. “Or less time than that. Yes… I think I could do it in less time than that.”

“Well,” Deacy grinned, “that’s not going to happen.” He promptly pulled a deck of cards from his jacket pocket.

“Oh, but that’ll never do,” you said, and the others eyed you in confusion. You shrugged. “It’s not Scrabble.”

Brian threw his head back in laughter, and the warmth of the rumble resounded within your heart.

“You’re one of us,” he whispered as Deacy dealt the cards. “You’re one of us.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

London, 24th of December, 1975

The search and rescue party had arrived within the hour, as surely as Brian had predicted, and champagne was toasted at the news of Bohemian Rhapsody’s rampant success.

But it was Christmas Eve when everyone took a turn for the worse.

With the exception of John, Queen had come down with a particularly nasty case of the flu.

Roger could be found in a number of places throughout the day— from the dressing room couch to his tour bus bunk to his actual hotel room, slumped against a wall or draped like a loose swath of fabric in some corner. He was being waited on hand-and-foot by both Heather and Crystal, the latter of whom began to roll his eyes as the hours went on, and muttered something about not being paid enough.

Freddie felt rather sorry for himself, which you equated to meaning that he was the least afflicted out of the three, flailing about and crying for more tea— and biscuits. That was how you knew he was alright; he could still stomach biscuits.

Brian was the one you worried most for, and not only on account of your closeness with him. He said even less than usual, ate and drank as little as he spoke, and hardly moved. His eyes were half-closed and his head dropped to his chest, and even his curls seemed to droop. It quite hurt you to look at him, because his pain was so apparent. He shifted on the bed and his wince lanced pain through your chest. He lifted a glass of water to his lips, and the paleness of his pallor tore at you. It was as though somebody had taken a string and threaded it first through his heart and then through yours, so that you were connected and his pain drained you as much as it drained him.

With two hours until showtime, soundcheck over and done, Brian had crawled back into bed and now lay with at least half a dozen blankets pulled up to his chin, his curls splayed out on the pillow like a halo, as his eyelashes cast spindly shadows over his face in the low lamplight.

You had barely dropped your things to the floor by the time his eyes had fallen shut, but you approached the bed now and watched him pull the covers more tightly around his body.

“Can I help you, love?” he mumbled, not opening his eyes.

You shook your head, kneeling at his side. “No,” you brushed a stray curl from his face. “Nothing for me. Just tell me what I can do for you.”

A soft sigh. “I don’t know.”

Your fingers continued their gentle tracings along his skin. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard to convince Freddie to cancel, seeing as three of you are sick.”

His eyes flew open. “No,” he said. “We’re not cancelling on account of me having a bloody cold.”

You pressed your hand to his forehead. “Brian, you’ve got the fucking flu.”

He sighed again. “Didn’t you say you had magic powers?”

“No, Brimi, you said that.”

He slipped his hand out from under the covers and into your grasp. “Did I? I must be very clever, then.”

You rolled your eyes. “The fever is making you delusional.”

A cough rattled his chest and you clutched his fingers in alarm.

“Maybe,” he said, and a sigh caught in his throat. He looked at you. “Stay with me?”

“Is that what you want?”

“More than anything.”

You nodded. Then you climbed into bed beside him, figuring that you would’ve fallen ill too by now if it was going to happen, and besides, there weren’t thousands of people depending on your health.

You kissed the corner of his mouth softly, winding your arms around his torso. “I’m here,” you whispered.

“You’ll get sick,” he murmured back.

“Then you won’t be alone.”

He peered down at you. “What did I do to deserve you?” he asked.

“Everything.”

His lips parted as though he had words prepared, but all that left him was another sigh. He pulled you closer and you held him until both band and crew were hammering at the door for Brian to hurry up and get ready.

He was nearly out the door when you pulled him back and stood on your toes to loop one of your own scarves around his neck, a white one you’d once bought in Kensington Market, near Freddie and Roger’s stall.

Brian had blinked in surprise, but you’d smiled.

“A scarf for a scarf.”

And then you’d ushered him out the door and toward the stage.

He’d doubled back so as to kiss the top of your head. “Happy Christmas, my love.”

“Happy Christmas, Brian.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

January, 1976

It was lucky there was a month gap between the European and North American segments of the tour, because as it happened, you fell just as ill as the others had been. But normally, where you normally would have had no one to take care of you, aside from Heather who was in and out of the house on account of both school and work, you now had the doting presence of Brian May.

He barely left your side, and if he did, it was only to get you something. He stayed with you night and day, and would have done so with his arms around you if you’d let him. But you didn’t want to risk him getting sick again, so he slept on the floor by your bed, and you let your hand dangle over the edge of the sheets to reach for his.

When the end of the month rolled around and you were packing up again for the flight to America, Brian came by and wound his arms around your waist in greeting, nuzzling kisses into your neck.

“Hello Brian,” you said, twisting in his arms.

“Hello love,” he mumbled the words into your skin.

For a moment, you smiled up at him and he smiled down at you, before he kissed you and the world fell away again. The rest of the world always fell away where Brian was concerned. The world, relatively speaking, did not matter, for who was he if not your world?

“Ready to go?” he asked.

You nodded. He smiled and picked up your suitcase, but you stopped him.

Concern creased his brow. “What is it—”

You pulled him down to you and covered his mouth with yours, unable to help yourself.

He hummed in response, and the sound tingled on your lips as his fingertips pressed warmly against your sides, as you leaned on the bed for support, as he leaned his hips against yours.

Time and space blurred in equal amounts when Brian angled his jaw to kiss you more deeply, and gravity tipped, powerless in the wake of this moment except to bring two dazed lovers together in a mess of tangled limbs and stuttering hearts, atop a cottony duvet where they’d once been no more than classmates.

He swept a line of kisses over your jaw and your neck until they reached the hollow of your throat, where they stopped. You opened your eyes to find Brian gazing down at you, his breath laboured and the hazel of his eyes brighter than usual, offset by dilated pupils.

“We have to go,” he whispered, and you groaned aloud. “Else we’ll miss the flight.”

“Why’d you have to be a famous musician, again?”

His smile was infectious. “Because somebody said I was good enough to be.”

“I hate it when my own words come back to bite me.”

Brian only laughed, pressed a stubbornly chaste kiss to your mouth, and pulled you up to stand. “Come on, my love.”

You were almost out of the house when you realised you’d forgotten something. You left Brian at the door and rushed back to your room.

Smiling at the rainbow bundle on your bed, you grabbed it and hurried back to meet Brian outside, locking the front door for the last time in a good while.

You thrust the scarf in his face, and his face twisted in confusion.

“Take it back,” you said.

He shook his head slowly. “Why on Earth would I do that? It’s as much yours as it is mine.”

“Maybe so. But it doesn’t smell like you anymore.”

Brian grinned as you slung the garment around his neck. “So it’s a loan?” he said.

“Definitely a loan.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, and the two of you traipsed toward the road to catch a taxi to the airport.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Midwest United States, Mid-February, 1976

“Do you realise it’s been a year?”

“Hm?” you said.

Following a show and one of Freddie’s exuberant parties, you were sitting across from Deacy, playing, of all things, Scrabble. The others had long since departed or fallen asleep in clustered heaps, alcohol-induced slumbers and post-show exhaustion finally taking hold. Indeed, Brian was asleep with his head in your lap, and you ran your fingers absently through his hair as you pondered how exactly to dismantle John’s winning Scrabble score.

John reiterated, “Do you realise it’s been a year since you came and saw us at the Union, and realised we all knew each other?”

A year. No, you hadn’t realised.

You had not realised that it had been a year since you’d walked with Brian in the sunshine, simply a planet orbiting a star, in lieu of the two-cluster of stars you’d now become, intertwined more often than not.

You had not realised that it had been a year since you’d thought you’d likely never see him again, before you’d known who he was and how your paths would undoubtedly have crossed eventually, no matter how far you might have felt from him. A year since he’d leant you a scarf that was now yours as much as it was his, a year since he’d sent you home because he was concerned you were tired, a year since he’d called you to let you know that your mutual friend was alright, since he’d wished you goodnight with such sincerity that you’d recalled the moments for weeks afterward.

You looked down at Brian, at the angular face, the soft, slack lips that always turned up in a smile at the sight of you, the planed chest you’d slept soundly against, his hands, the ridiculously long legs that accounted for ninety percent of his height, the silly wooden shoes he loved so dearly to stare at when you flustered him.

He shifted in his sleep, and you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face, turned your composure to mush, because he really was just that beautiful.

“Y/N?”

You looked back up at John.

“No,” you replied softly. “I had no idea.”

Deacy smiled, laying down another score-boosting Scrabble word. It was some electrical engineering term, the meaning of which evaded you, but you countered with syzygy and your smile broadened, because Brian would have been proud of you for using an astronomy term. You could almost see his twinkling eyes as he pressed you to his side and murmured ‘my evening star’.

Deacy groaned as your Scrabble score passed his, rubbing tired eyes.

“Giving up, are we?” you taunted.

John yawned. “Never. I’m just postponing. We’ll finish this another day.”

You narrowed your eyes. “How are we going to remember what the board looks like, hm? No way you’re getting a second chance with a clean board.”

Deacy rolled his eyes, “Fine, fine, just give me a moment.”

He stood and soon disappeared into the adjourning room. A few moments later, he reappeared with a camera.

“I’ve stolen Roger’s polaroid camera now,” he whispered, taking care not to step on Crystal’s hand on the path back to the Scrabble table. He took a picture of the board and tossed it in your direction.

You laughed, and stifled it immediately when Deacy looked pointedly at Brian, who was, miraculously, still asleep in your lap.

“Get your boyfriend to bed,” Deacy said, pulling on his jacket.

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” you hissed back.

Deacy shrugged. “I don’t know. Wake him up.”

You poked your tongue out at John, who waved cheerily and departed, claiming that the time difference made now the perfect hour to phone his wife and child.

You were left on a couch, surrounded by a floor populated by overtired musicians, roadies, techies, groupies, and the most gangly person of them all preventing you from getting up.

“Bri,” you whispered, brushing the curls back from his face. “Time to go.”

A sharp intake of breath and he was awake; his hand found yours and brought it to his lips, kissing the base of your palm.

It was those little moments you cherished, betwixt the madness of it all, when small gestures quieted the world around you and you found yourself once more wandering through a dreamscape of adoration, adoration for the one who had the ability to make the world fall silent with the touch of a hand.

“Oh,” he sighed, reaching up to touch your cheek, “but I’d so much rather stay with you.”

You shook your head slightly. “Who said I was going anywhere?”

He smiled that lovely smile of his, and you sighed softly.

If you could help it, you’d never go anywhere far from him again.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

taglist: @melting-obelisks @retropetalss @hgmercury39  @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz @perriwiinkle @brianmays-hair @im-an-adult-ish @ilikebigstucks @doing-albri @killer-queen-87 @n0-self-c0ntro1 @archaicmusings @cloudyyspace @annina-96​ @themarchoftherainbowqueen @annajolras @mazzell-ro

Masterpost / Part 17 / Part 19

[herewegoagainniall]

I’ll Love Her Still: Part 11 (Brian May x Female!Reader)

O H wow. Hi. So. These past few months have been...they’ve been something, haven’t they? 

Idk about you, but my creative drive was just...decimated, I think is the right word for it. I’m so often my own worst enemy when it comes to doing things that make me happier, and writing is one of them. So even though this chapter won’t get attention or likes or anything like that, I’m honestly just proud of myself for having done it. We’re coming into the homestretch for Brian and Lily. What’s going to happen? Who knows?? (I do but y’all don’t yet)

TAGLIST: @alittlepeoplemagic​; @brianmayscurls​; @chlobo6​; @d-illo​; @delilahmay39​; @kenzie-belle​; @kiwithekiwi​; @lizzybeth1986​; @moreinfinite​; @readinghorn​; @rogerscupboard​; @thelegumemother​

TRIGGERS: Oof. We got angst. We got smut. We got angsty, sad smut. Proceed with caution.

You’d never been so happy to get back to a hotel room in all your life. You shoved the door open, threw yourself onto your bed and screamed into a pillow. You were right. You KNEW you were right. Why couldn’t Brian see that there wasn’t a future for the two of you? He needed to settle down with a nice girl from home, have a few kids, buy a big house out in the English countryside, and he’d eventually forget about you. That was the way it worked. And it was fucking ripping you apart.

You were just as furious with yourself as you were with Brian. You were never supposed to fall in love with him. He was just another star, another musician that you wanted to repay for making beautiful music. It didn’t matter that you could talk to him about anything, or that he always laughed at your jokes, or that he leaned on you for comfort just as much as you leaned on him. It COULDN’T matter. Because you weren’t supposed to fall in love with him.

A sob was ripped from your throat. And once you started, you couldn’t stop. You just sat on your bed and cried- cried for yourself, cried for Brian, cried for the future that Brian could see so clearly but was somehow hidden from you.

You breathed deeply- in and out, in and out, trying to calm yourself down. You’d just managed to get yourself regulated again, and had put on a Led Zeppelin record to raise your spirits when you heard him knocking on the door. “Lily, it’s me.”

So you were “Lily” to him again. Somehow, that hurt worse than you imagined it would. “Go away!” you yelled, trying to quell the burning lump in your throat.

“No,” you could practically hear him gritting his teeth. “I’m staying here.”

There was something in his voice… he wasn’t possessive, he wasn’t angry, he just sounded… desperate. For you. But you brushed it aside and scoffed, “Why deprive yourself of all the other girls here? Or are you too good for girls- oh, excuse me, sluts like me now?”

And then you heard a sob. A quiet sob, but a sob nonetheless. You quickly came to the realization that Brian May’s tears were the worst sound in the entire world, and if you could do anything to stop them, you would. So you slowly stood up and made your way over to the door. “Don’t cry,” you said, more tenderly than you probably intended it.

“I can’t believe I fucked up so badly,” you heard him choke out.

“Yeah. Well. You did,” you echoed his words from earlier, but you could feel your resolve starting to crumble. He just… he sounded so sincere.

“Y/N,” Brian sniffed from the other side of the door. Oh thank God, you were Y/N again. “Y/N, please. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for blowing up at you. I just-”

You had flung the door open and pulled Brian’s lips onto yours before he could even finish his apology. Brian kissed you back with everything he had in him, gripping onto the back of your head as you pulled him into the room and kicked the door shut behind you.

When you came up for air, Brian’s emotions came spilling out of him like a pot that had boiled over. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I was thinking, saying those things.”

Don’t say it, you prayed as you buried your face in the crook of his neck and started leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses there. Please don’t say it.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Fuck.

You pulled away and shook your head. “Brian, please. Please don’t say that.”

“It’s how I feel,” Brian replied. You could tell that there was a slight bit of residual anger in him,  but there was a much bigger part of him that was just too tired to fight anymore. “I know, okay, I know you don’t want to hear it, but I can’t just not tell you.”

You shook your head in response, saying, “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have been so callous.”

“I’m so in the wrong, Y/N.”

“No, Brian, it’s okay, I know I’m in the wrong.”

Brian gave you a small smile. “Can we both be wrong?” he asked in a small, hopeful voice.

You let out a sigh of relief and nodded. “Yes. We’re both wrong.”

Brian cupped your face and kissed you deeply, sucking on your top lip gently and moaning slightly. He pulled away and stayed silent for a while, tracing random patterns on your cheeks, nose, chin and lips. “You’re everything to me,” he exhaled. “I just… when I think of what you used to do, it… it felt like it crawled under my skin, you know?”

You said nothing. You didn’t know what TO say. You were fairly certain, though, that Brian wasn’t in love with you. Not really. You were the only woman he’d ever had sex with, of course he was going to think he was in love with you.

Brian, thankfully, didn’t try to fill the silence, instead opting for gently pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know,” you murmured into his chest. Almost out of habit, you pressed a kiss to his pec, then started kissing up his chest, his neck (stopping to nip at his Adam’s apple) and finally stopping with a long, deep, kiss to his lips.

When you pulled away, Brian gulped slightly, his eyes remaining locked with yours as your hand ghosted over his cock, already half-hard. “Did I do this?” you asked with lying doe eyes. You knew full well what you did to him.

“No, Roger did,” Brian replied, rolling his eyes slightly.

You scoffed, “Alright,” you turned to walk away from him. “I’ll get the door so you can go find Rog and t-”

You yelped as Brian yanked you so that your back was pressed flush against him. “Mm-mm,” he shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere.”

With that, Brian started kissing and biting at your neck and lightly grinding against you. It felt wonderful, but… different. “Do you want me?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you exhaled, spinning around and slamming your lips onto his, desperately pawing at his shirt.

“No, no,” Brian grumbled into your mouth as he took your hands away from his shirt. He was breathing heavily, and he grabbed your face and pulled it away from his. “Not like that.”

He pulled you in by your hips and started pushing the hem of your dress up your thighs, relishing in the breathless gasp of, “Bri,” that you gave.

Brian’s head was resting contentedly in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to your burning skin, but his hands were doing something far more carnal. He dragged his nails along your thighs, making you whimper out his name- a whimper that turned into a slight yelp as he pushed you back onto the bed.

His eyes were ablaze but his mouth was still in a firm line, his movements almost mechanical as he took his shirt off. He was holding back from you, trying to pretend like his heart wasn’t in this anymore. And you didn’t like it.

He reached for the straps of your dress, but you pushed him away, reaching for his face with cautious hands, like you’d burn if you touched his skin. “Look at me,” you said softly.

Brian shook his head slightly, but gave in when he heard you repeat yourself more assertively. His eyes flickered over to yours. The magnets were repelling again. He’d been the one to turn them around last time- now it was your turn.

You reached up and laced your fingers through Brian’s curls. “Kiss me,” you urged him with a whisper. “Kiss me like you always do.”

Brian’s head inadvertently leaned into your hand, hazel eyes slowly losing their harsh veneer. He leaned down, moving his hands so that they were cupping your face.

He took a breath, like he was about to dive headfirst into the deep end of a pool. And without pausing a second more, Brian brought your lips together in a glowing, passionate kiss. You returned his action and melted into his touch, letting your body undulate with Brian’s touch.

His hands snaked up your back and tugged at the zipper on the back of your dress. “You looked so beautiful in this dress, Peaches,” he murmured into the crook of your neck. “But it needs to come off. Now.”

“Be gentle with it,” you couldn’t help but tease him slightly. “Amber spent way too much on it.”

Brian (thankfully) took the bait and laughed while he pulled the dress off of your body- your bra and underwear weren’t too far behind. Once you were completely naked, Brian just gazed at you, letting his eyes be completely engrossed by your beauty. “Perfect,” was all he could say. “Such a perfect girl.”

For the first time in ages, you felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you dipped your head slightly. Brian used that opportunity to start pressing kisses into the exposed part of your neck, making you shiver. The feel of his lips spurred your hands to creep forward, up his thighs, dragging his zipper down at a torturous pace until you finally finally got to where Brian wanted you to be.

“Y/N,” he breathed out as you pulled out his cock and stroked it slowly, trying to make sure he felt every flick of your wrist. “Fuck, I- I need you. Please.”

“You need me? Or do you want me?” you couldn’t help but tease him.

“Want, need, feel like I’m going to die if I’m not inside you right now- take your pick,” he replied, somewhere between composed and desperate.

You laughed and pushed yourself back onto the bed, propped up against the pillows, naked and ready for Brian. But it wasn’t until Brian got up to grab a condom from the regular drawer that you realized something- you were ready for Brian in a whole new way. A way that you’d never been for anyone. You grabbed Brian by the arm and said the words that you had never said before. Not to Joe, not to the person you’d lost your virginity to, no one.

“I…I don’t want you to use a condom.”

Brian’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t toy with me, woman.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “I’m on the pill, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You reached up and cupped Brian’s face- you swore he had never looked more beautiful. “You mean the world to me, Brian May. You’re not just another rock star, another notch in my belt. I want this. I want this with you. I don’t want any barriers between us. Please.”

A mixture of lust and pure adoration came over Brian’s face as he eased back onto the bed and hovered over you. His lips pressed to your forehead softly, and his hands smoothed their way down your body, leaving goosebumps and anticipation in their wake. “I- Are you sure?” he whispered as he held himself and lined up at your entrance. For just a moment, he looked like the scared, nervous young man he had been when you first saw him back in Y/C. And in a way… he still was.

“Yes,” you exhaled.

Without waiting a second more, Brian pushed into you. Whatever you had thought having sex without a condom would feel like was nothing compared to how it actually felt. There was so much pleasure crowding your brain, you could only let out some sort of whimper. You hoped Brian would be able to equate that sound with, “OhGodthisfeelssogoodpleasedon’tstoppleaseneverstop”.

“Y/- Y/N,” Brian choked. “I- it feels-”

“So good,” you finished his sentence for him. “So good” didn’t really cover it, but it was good enough for now.

Brian got right into the rhythm of it, starting to give small, shallow thrusts, gasps falling from his mouth like honey. Neither of you spoke for a while- emotions were still running high from earlier, and as far as you were concerned, what was happening between you and Brian right now was too special to break the spell of.

You were being stretched out so perfectly by Brian’s cock, you swore that there was no better feeling in the entire world than the one you were feeling right at that moment. And then he started to go deeper, his gasps became moans and he actually managed to let your name slip out once or twice. You reached up and tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. Your lips fused together, and you could feel yourself getting closer.

And then it slipped out.

“Fuck, Y/N, I love you, oh my God.”

Instantly, your heart dropped into your feet. You tried so hard to pretend that you hadn’t heard it, just letting out a whimper and grasping at Brian’s hand to bring it down to your clit and finally get you over the edge. But you had heard it. And even when your orgasm finally hit, as sweet as it was, you still couldn’t stop hearing it.

Brian kept whispering how much he loved you (even though the closer he got, the more incoherent his statements became) and all you could do was mentally thank God that the lights were low so he couldn’t see the tears in your eyes. His hips started to stutter and his eyes screwed shut- you knew it was time.

“Cum, Brian. Let go for me,” you whispered, practically begging him.

You clutched Brian tightly to you as you felt him release inside of you with a strangled moan… and you knew, somehow, that no man would ever feel as good to you again. Brian had ruined you- or maybe you’d ruined each other.

You turned onto your side as Brian fell asleep (he was so drained that it didn’t take long), going over and over the events of the night in your head. You thought the choice would be an easy one to make. But your eyes flitted to the stars… the stars that, no matter what, would always remind you of Brian. No matter what happened, someone somehow was going to get hurt.

You could only hope that Brian would forgive you.