grumpypie

[fatherofmachine-a]

@thewhiirlwind​  | ❛ Could I maybe steal a kiss,  before you go ? ❜  from Dr. Renard Lachlan

It was a QUESTION that Harold honestly hadn’t  expected.  Not only because of it’s gentle DIRECTNESS (  which,  oddly,  he appreciated  ),  but because this had been their FIRST TIME out,  together,  since Harold had finally given in  &  EXPLAINED the risks  Renard would be taking to get this close.  It could ruin the normal,  conventional life he’d worked hard to build,  after leaving the Russians.  Renard had ACCEPTED the risks regardless,  as if getting closer was worth it—–which,  Harold could hardly BELIEVE,  but it elicited a unfurling,  fluttering  warmth to EXPAND within his chest all the same.

A part of him had WONDERED,  afterward,  if he’d offered the same honesty  &  CHOICE,  if Grace would’ve done the same ?  Perhaps he hadn’t because the mere thought  of any kind of harm coming to her stirred up emotions so uncontrollably strong,  emotions that TERRIFIED him ?  Would this be any  different ?  Harold was somewhat AFRAID to find out.

They’d arrived to the cafe some time after  3am,  as Harold had FINISHED with a number shortly beforehand,  his usual  bouts of pain WORSE from the excessive activity  &  a particularly difficult  experience with a patient had been keeping Renard awake.  They’d shared the experiences of their day  &  it didn’t take long at all  until their hands rested upon the tabletop,  entangled QUITE earnestly.  Conversation flowed between them EASILY,  albeit it was engrossing  &  addicting,  to the point where they’d long since forgotten about TIME in it’s entirety. 

The faint light  of DAYBREAK was what finally  reminded them that the world was still turning—–&  that Renard had a very normal job to get back to in the morning.  It was then,  after they’d both stood,  when the question drifted between them within the practically DESERTED cafe.  Harold was quite  private,  especially in regards to RELATIONSHIPS,  but ... the only other people in the building were a waitress  &  cook who were out of sight,  likely preparing for customers.  Customers that wouldn’t  be in for another few hours. 

 ❝ You wouldn’t have to steal  one, ❞

Harold found himself saying,  chin tilting upward whilst dark brows ARCHED.  He stood with his normal  rigidity,  his heavier jacket having been DRAPED over his left arm whilst his right hand rested atop,  fingers curling  into the fabric.  Taking a couple LIMPING steps forward,  a smile,  reserved  &  careful,  curled at the left corner of his lips as he continued,

 ❝ It’s YOURS,  if you want  it. ❞

Renard’s answering expression was RADIANT,  nearly beaming  with warmth  &  an undercurrent of giddiness.  The sight practically swiped  the AIR from Harold’s lungs  & ... a brief whisper  of FEAR dug it’s claws into him.  Would the depths  at which he slowly SUNK into harbor emotions deeper  than he could fathom ?  He had no idea,  but Renard’s gaze swept over him before he moved in CLOSER  &  he found himself leaning forward still—–

The press of lips was SLOW,  gentle,  with a soothing kind of softness  &  Harold utterly,  HELPLESSLY,  melted.  Worries  &  fears dissolving entirely,  he reciprocated in kind,  curious  &  now confident,  but at a GRADUAL pace that was simply  ... perfect.  The feeling of Renard’s hand carefully  resting at the back of Harold’s neck did something TIGHT  &  twisting  within his heart—–an attempt to PREVENT extra nerve pain.  Letting go of his own  jacket in order to REACH OUT  &  curl his fingers into Renard’s jacket lapel,  Harold was once again dangerously  close to completely losing track of TIME ( especially  as Renard’s fingers lightly threaded throughout the short hair at the back of Harold’s head,  eliciting the SLIGHTEST shiver ).

It had technically  been MORE  than just one kiss as,  just like their conversations,  kissing was quite  addictive—–but they managed to part,  STILL lingering close.  Harold exhaled,  his breath barely wavering  &  the words slipped  out of his mouth before he was able to think BETTER of them,

 ❝ That ... was more than one, ❞

The light,  TEASING edge of his tone was followed by a quick  upward curve of lips ;  albeit,  this time,  the wideness of it lingered  a couple seconds longer before somewhat SHRINKING.

[littleliv1]

39’- Brian May One Shot

A/n: a new series I’m starting y’all. It’s going to be in this type of format, I’ll figure out a way to post all of the stories in this series. I worked really hard on this so I really really hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what other songs I should do this with! Much love<3

WC: 2.4k

Summary: Earth is dying. And Brian takes the opportunity to help try to save you and his now growing family.

Warnings: it’s real sad ngl. Contains suicide, so please if that triggers you, don’t read!

The year was 2238. Earth was dying, and it was inevitable. The air was unbearably hot and sticky. The last clear sky was recorded in the 2100s. There are records from hundreds of years ago where kids got out of school for snow, something kids nowadays only read about. They could never imagine it. They got out of school for things like if the temperature was over 50°C, even then, you never missed a day of school. Not after the newly designed school head set. Sick? Put it on and enjoy your day at school. Heat day? Even teachers had one.

In 2200, the government in nearly all countries had failed. The world leaders came together to creat the SSA; the Synchronized Settlement Act. From then on, the world wasn't split into countries. It was one, though physically separated, everyone was one. The Earth was labeled by direction.

You had married the love of your life, Brian May in 2330. Every couple was allowed one child, due to over population. You and Brian decided to wait as long as you could to have the child, especially with the rumors of a newly born world that was possibly near. Alas, those were only but rumors. With Brian's musical talent and his knowledge of space, he had scored you all a nice shack on the beach. It was small, but nicer than most of the southern homes.

This night, you were sitting on the beach, looking at the cloudy sunset. You were surrounded by trash, and the ocean was black is was so dirty. But you were used to it. You all were. Your thoughts were interrupted by a body sitting close to you. You could tell it was Brian by the shadow. "Doing what you do best," He stated, sitting next to you. "And what's that?" You asked, looking over to him. He smiled, pushing your hair behind your ear. "Looking absolutely breath taking. Looks like tonight is clearer than most nights, that's good," He said, pointing out to the coast. You nodded your head disappointingly. "Yeah, I only wish I could see a real sunset. I read once that people used to see the sun, and it wasn't just a mush of colors." You said. He pressed his hand against your neck, rubbing it slightly. "I know, my love," he whispered to you. It absolutely killed him how much he could see you hurt when you talked about how the way things used to be. "I come with good news and bad news," He said, wrapping his hand around yours. You smiled. "I could use some good news." He smiled back, showing his perfect teeth. "The newly born world is real, and they leave to find it in ten months," you smiled so wide, you had never been so happy, besides your wedding day. "Oh Brian! That's fantastic! How could that ever have something bad?" You said, hugging him. "Well, they asked for volunteers, preferably ones with knowledge of space," he quietly spoke. Your heart sank, as did your arm that had been resting on his shoulder. "And, you volunteered?" You asked, your face flushing from the sadness. And he nodded.

A few months had gone by, and it was months full of fun, crying, and passionate love making. On this particular night, you had been feeling weird for the last few months, so you went to the doctor while Brian was away at training. You find out that you're four months pregnant. You sat in your car crying for hours. You couldn't tell if it was out of the happiness that you'd have a part of Brian with you while he was gone, or sad because you'd have to do this alone. Once you returned home, you found Brian at the table reading a book about space. He looked up at you to smile, taking a second before noticing your tear stained eyes. "My love, what's wrong?" He said, pulling himself up and hugging you. "Bri, I'm," you started, unable to find the words to finish. So you showed him the paper work. "You're pregnant," he stated, you nodding your head in response. He hugged you tightly, and you couldn't help but to sob in his chest.

In the year of 39' assembled here the volunteers, in the days when the lands were few

The day he was to leave finally arrived. They were together, holding each other for what felt like hours. He pulled back, holding your left hand. “This ring binds us. And it will for as long as we will,” he said, kissing your hand. “When you wear it, look at the sky and close your eyes. You’ll know what I mean soon,” he continued.

Here the ship sailed out, into the blue and sunny mourn, sweetest sight ever seen.

Your moment was interrupted by someone yelling that it was time to leave. He grabbed your face and kissed you for as long as he possibly could. “I love you Brian Harold May!” You yelled as he was being forced into the rocket. “I love you too (y/f/n)!” His muffled voice yelled. Within an hour, the rocket was gone and had taken off.

That was the loneliest night of your life. You laid there, looking at his side of the bed. You vowed that never in your life for as long as you live, no one, not even you, will lay there. You looked at your wedding band, remembering what he said. You got out of bed, your feet hitting the cold floor, and walked to the front porch. You saw the silhouette of the moon, but you could tell it was full. You closed your eyes and did everything you could to feel him.

And the night followed day, and the story tellers say, that the score Brave Souls inside,

6 months had passed and your baby was born. You birthed a beautiful baby boy, who you named Brian Harold May Jr., Harry for short. Harry was only a few weeks old. One the media, they name the volunteers the Brave Souls.

For a many lonely day, sailed across the milky sea, ne’er looked back, never feared, never cried.

A year had passed. They had very little contact with the volunteers, at this point they could only receive messages. But, the Brave Souls, as their name implies, they were brave. Strong. Not one wanted to turn around. They weren’t afraid. They wanted to fix the mess that the past had made, and restart for their families. Even though they so dearly missed them.

Don’t you hear my call? Though you’re many years away, don’t you hear me calling you?

It’s been five years since the volunteers left. You began to question when they will return. Harry was turning five in a few weeks, and for his present he wants his daddy. It broke your heart. At night, after you had your dinner, washed up your son, and put him to bed, you’d spend your nights out side looking at the sky. You began to feel his longing for you, you felt it at first in your stomach, the same warm feeling he gave you, but as time went on, you felt it in your head, then your heart. You knew he was calling for you. And you called for him.

He could feel it, too. As he looked out of the window, he held his wedding band, closed his eyes, and focused on you. They had been gone for a few weeks now, and man did he miss you.

Write your letters in the sand, for the day I take your hand, in the land that our grandchildren knew.

Harry was ten years old. It had been ten years since you’d seen Brian. You were close to loosing hope that he was still alive, but you wrote him letters every night. Every night for ten years, not to mention the ones Harry wrote when he started to write. You all glued and pasted them to pages in a scrap book for his return, waiting patiently for him.

Harry wrote about how he wants to meet his daddy. You and he watched the news together, looking at the group picture that the Brave Souls took. You always pointed Brian out. “There’s daddy,” you’d say, holding your child. At night, you always looked towards his side of the bed. You hadn’t kissed, slept with, or even touched another man that wasn’t your son. His side of the bed had gone untouched for ten years. Harry liked to draw pictures of space, he’d show his friends at school. Only they weren’t his friends. He had come home with a black eye one day, they had teased him mercilessly that his dad was dead and that he should just face it. That was the last time you sent him away.

You home schooled him for the remainder of his school years.

Many many years had passed, and you had to face the fact that you may never see Brian again. You were old. You were dying. You were at the age of 65 when you were old you had cancer, it was at stage two and spreading fast. But you fought for 20 more years. Harry was 58, with a child of his own, and she with a child of her own. Harry’s wife died at child birth. His daughter was in her 30s, her daughter was almost 9. You adored your grandchild and your great grandchild. Soon, at the age of 89, you passed away peacefully.

Harry was devastated over your death. He lost his wife, Emily, when she had Aliyah. All he had was his daughter and his grandchild, Millie. Aliyah and Millie took care of him. He told them the stories of his father, Brian Harold May Senior. Millie loved the stories. He showed the girls the notes you and he wrote together, it always brought Aliyah to tears.

40 years later, Harry is 98. He’s getting older, and he can feel his body giving out. Aliyah is in her 70s, Millie is in her 40s with a son of her own who is 18 and expecting. The story’s of yours and Brian’s love never once left the family line, each new generation swearing to give it to Brian if the day ever came. Harry died at 100, one of the eldest men to have lived in the south side. Brian’s

In the year of 39’ came the ship in from the blue, the volunteers came home that day.

The family titled the book of letters you and Harry wrote ‘The Book of Love’. It was now in possession of his great great great grandson, Brian Harold May III. On a cold, September morning, their favorite show, The Moonies, was interrupted. “Damnit! I want to see what happens to Jill! What is this shit?” Millie said, angrily. She was visiting Harold was and his pregnant wife. Aliyah died in a plane crash a few months back. Harold was adding to the Book of Love, when he heard Millie shouting. “Mum, what is it?” He asked. He looked at her with a gaping mouth. “They-they’re-“ She started, standing to her feet as Harold realized what was happening. “They’re home,” he whispered. “Janet! Janet! They’re home! They’re home!” He said, shouting to his wife, now 7 months pregnant. “That’s great love! Go! Go meet him!” She said, kissing him deeply.

They went to the launching pad where they could meet Brian May Senior for the first time. They had a sign with his name on it. The door opened, to only six men. “I thought 16 had left?” Janet whispered to Harold. “No, yeah, 16. But there’s only six,” He said back. They were welcomed with applause. The captain of the ship came and took ahold of the microphone.

And they bring good news, of a world so newly. Though their hearts so heavily weighed.

“Greetings, friends and family. We thank you for this amazing greeting.” He started. The year was 2339. It had been 100 years since they left. “It’s been a long, hard few month, but we are glad to be home at last.” He spoke his words slowly, but everyone knew it was no few short months. A few hours later, they were released to be with their family. Brian found the family, with his name on the sign. “Brian May?” Harold said, look up at the tall man. He nodded his head. Brian just wanted to see you, though you had been dead for quite sometime now. They figured he would have known that by now. They greeted him with wonderful gifts, foods, everything. “My my, this is all so wonderful, but I’d like to see my wife, (y/n). She should be a few months pregnant, maybe 8 or 9 months?” He said. Harold and Millie looked at each other, sadness filled their eyes. “Come home with us, will get everything sorted out there,” Millie said, quietly. He nodded.

For the earth is old and grey, little darling well away. But my love this cannot be!

As they entered the house, Harold ran to get the book, sitting Brian down at a chair. Over the many years of its existence, it was filled of pictures from previous generations. “I don’t know how to tell you this, so here,” Millie said, handing him the book. “It’s from (y/n). She and her son Harry made this for you before they,” she paused looking down. Brian looked up at them, smiling. “What on earth are you talking about, who’s Harry?” He said. He opened the book, seeing all of the letter you and Harry had written to him. He was quite confused. “I don’t, I don’t understand. These are dated 20, 30, 40 years from now? I’ve only been gone a few months,” he said, looking over the dates. “Oh dear,” Janet said. Everyone looked at him in sorrow. “It’s the year ‘39, 2239, correct?” He said, failing faster through the pages, as he got to the family tree with dates. They were birth and death dates. “‘M afraid not, it’s 2339,” Millie said, holding his hand, trying to calm him. He started to panic as he saw your name.

(Y/f/n)-May: Born 2208-2297

“Oh, God, no,” he whispered. He gently ran his finger over the picture of you and Harry when he was 7.

For so many years are gone, though I’m older but a year, your mothers eyes from your eyes, cry to me.

Brian locked himself in his old bedroom for 3 weeks, reading all of your letters. And then rereading them, taking in all of the pictures that they gave to him. You made it a point to take plenty of pictures of Harry while he was a child, at his wedding, with his first born. Brian was too sad to cry. He only ate once a week, and they were a few crackers. Depressed was an understatement of the way he truly felt.

Don’t you hear my call? Though you’re many years away, don’t you hear me calling you. Write your letters in the sand, for the day I take your hand, in the land that our grandchildren knew.

It had been a month since he got home, and he hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences to anyone. He laid in bed at night, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t handle it anymore. The sadness he felt.

He grabbed a case, and went to the beach. The same beach you two sat on, 100 years ago. Even though his entire line of family was promised a spot in the newly born world, as was he, he didn’t want it if it weren’t with you. He didn’t want any life without you. He opened the case, and pulled out a gun.

“Brian Harold My Senior took his life in 2339 due to grief of his lost wife, (y/n) May. Loving husband, father, along with many generations of life. Rest easy, Brave Soul.” His tombstone read. His family was heart broken for him. They wished that they could have gotten to know him, but they understood why that couldn’t happen. He didn’t belong here.

Don’t you hear my call, though you’re many years away, don’t you hear me calling you? All your letter in the sand, cannot heal my like your hand, for my life, still ahead, pity me.

In the distance of the sunset funeral, you could see Brian watching from afar. You approach him, taking his hand in yours. He could be shocked, but he knows it’s you. He turns to face you, taking in the same beautiful face that said her goodbyes too soon. “My love,” He said, resting his forehead into yours. “Together at last,” you replied, smiling. A single tear rolled down his face. “There’s no life I would want to live if it meant I couldn’t see you,” He said. You kissed him once more, deepening the kiss. “Would you like to meet your son?” You asked him. He nodded smiling. “You can meet him, if you’re ready,” you said, holding his hand. He nodded his head again. You both knew you mean if he was ready to cross over and be with you and your all’s child again. You smiled again, walking towards the sky, the clouds seeming to part for the two of you.

Millie, Harold, Janet, and Harold’s new daughter looked up. “To the most beautiful love story anyone will ever know,” Harold said, Brian forever resting next to you underneath a tree.