#LeeH writes

[izzy-b-hands]

A Little Bit Louder

Brian/Trans M Reader, smut, and the difference the years can make in NSFW encounters (in other words, Brian goes from v quiet in bed to v loud and it is The Best Thing!)

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

"I don't think anyone can hear us in here," you prompt Brian.

He smiles and giggles softly into your ear, but otherwise is silent as he thrusts, your leg lifted up on his shoulder.

"Seriously," you murmur. "Let me hear you a little!"

But his lips linger at your neck, and he gasps when he comes, otherwise…

"Nothing," you report back later to your friends. "I know he's quiet onstage, but I thought surely, in bed…"

You sigh. "It was good regardless though. And what a story to have, hm?"

---

"And how many people did you tell that story to?" Brian teases. His hand loops loosely around the pint glass on the counter you both sit at, and his eyes reflect the night so far: drinking after his show, even after the rest of the band and crew had wandered off back to the hotel.

"None except my friends," you laugh. "And they just bet I couldn't get you to fuck me again, and that even if I did manage that, I couldn't get you to be loud."

"Loud?"

"In bed," you smile and sip from your own glass. "I don't mean that as a critique, it was…"

You let a hand drop under the bar counter to his knee, resting there for just a moment.

"Good. But I was surprised at how quiet you were; I thought you might make up for how soft and serious you seemed onstage."

His hand leaves his glass to find yours, holding it under the counter. The bar is empty, but not enough for a more open show of anything between the two of you.

"We're in town an extra day and night," Brian says, dropping money on the counter for the bill. "Stay with me."

You sigh. You never had any interest in pretending not knowing when he has people at home. "Brian. We aren't kids anymore, hell we weren't then either."

"I have permission," Brian says, deadly serious. "At least,I got permission when I knew we'd be near your town."

"We've exchanged letters maybe every three years with pauses in between," you smirk. "And you were so sure I would want to hook up again?"

"Not sure," Brian says softly. "Just hopeful. And Anita...we...I don't know that this is a topic for public conversation."

"No promises," you say. "But if you can give me some proof of this, then sure. I might be up for it."

Brian leads you outside, and you walk back to his hotel, holding hands whenever the street lights are off.

---

"She thought you would want something physical as proof," Brian hands over a letter. "She wanted to have a picture or video of her writing it, so-"

He hands over a sheaf of Polaroids too. In them, Anita smiles, raising her head from a paper that matches the look of the one in your hand.

"This-" you start to read it, and smile. "Oh! I didn't expect this, I thought-"

"It's unusual," Brian interrupts with an embarrassed laugh. "But this way, we get to extend our own scene a bit. I can play with people we both trust, but only if she agrees to loan me out, if you will."

You nod, handing the letter and photos back. "You did scream 'submissive' even back then."

"I did not," he laughs.

"Absolutely did so!"

"Do I still?"

Brian sets aside the letter and pictures, letting his hands fall at your waist. "The mustache has finally grown in. I like it."

"It only took what? Twentyish years?" you smile and lean into his touch. "You really do like it though? After all, I didn't have it the last time we-"

He leans down and kisses you, and you can taste the unspent energy, the beer you'd both been drinking. There's loneliness on his lips, the way he gasps into your mouth at a pause, yet the whine he lets out still surprises you.

"Has someone learned something since last we fucked?" you tease.

"I can make up for it," he murmurs against your lips, crushing his hips close to you, his cock half hard in the skinny jeans you couldn't take your eyes off of when he was onstage. "I was...shy, back then. Thought you'd get up and leave right then, or be embarrassed or-"

Your hands, resting at his hips, move to tug open the button of his jeans. "You'd have to do a lot of ridiculous shit to get me out of bed with you. Being loud will only keep me in it longer."

He steps back, and starts to strip off his clothes, watching as you do the same. "So if I'm loud enough, I can convince you to come visit me when I'm back home?"

You pause. "You'd want that?"

"Certain things Anita isn't into, or can't give me," Brian replies. "That's not the only reason we do this, but it's part of it. She said...she's read your letters. She likes you, so if you'd ever want-"

You nod, and stride forward, pushing him back onto the bed with your kiss. "It's been so fucking lonely here, I thought a different city would make a difference, but it's even smaller here. People watch me, the way they look at me-"

"Then come somewhere bigger," Brian interrupts, wrapping you in his arms. "I can't guarantee it's better by a lot, but you can disappear into London. And I can see you more often there."

"Anita will loan you out?"

"Anita will probably set up a schedule with you to get me out of the house and her hair, now and again," Brian laughs. "Though, if you'd ever be willing to join us…"

"I would be," you say. "If she'll have me."

Brian nods, and everything else melts away.

His hands linger over you just the way they did before, tracing gentle patterns over your skin. It's mesmerizing, and you snuggle up to him, grinding your cock against his.

It leaves Brian moaning, beautifully, in between each kiss. He's not overly loud, but it's a world's difference from your first hookup with him, and it makes you all the more eager.

"Enough, just get inside of me," you beg.

"I'll get there," Brian laughs. "I thought age would make you patient!"

"I can be patient for you another night," you say. "When I visit you, maybe?"

"If you insist," Brian smiles and motions for you to move off of him.

You watch as he fumbles through his suitcase for a bottle of lube and a condom, tossing them onto the bed by you.

"Did you buy these just because you were coming here and seeing me?"

He blushes. "I don't want to seem presumptuous-"

"I'm in your bed, I think it's a safe presumption," you interrupt with a giggle.

"But I also wanted to be prepared," Brian finishes, and drops to his knees at the edge of the bed. "Get over here."

"This is new," you grin as you wiggle your way down to the end of the bed. "But then again, we didn't have as much time back then, did we?"

"We didn't, but I still should have," Brian winces. "Like I said: making up for things."

You lay back and relax as he slips your legs over his shoulders, reaches up to hold your hands, and starts to lap at your folds.

"Not everyone is comfortable at first," you say. "Sucking me off, I mean, so if you need a ti-"

Your advice cuts off as he takes your cock between his lips and sucks, with just enough pressure to short out your brain.

He pauses and lifts his head. "Alright?"

"Why did you stop?" you groan. "Please don't stop."

"Hm," Brian raises a brow. "Someone might need a gag, if you're going to be round with Anita too."

"You have something that could keep my mouth busy," you smirk down at him.

"That I do," he murmurs as he kisses at your thigh. "We'll keep that in mind for next time."

"But-"

"I said I was making up for our last time together," Brian says. "Let me focus on you for tonight, alright?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer before he dips back down and sucks at your cock, humming and moaning around it, holding you down when it makes you squirm.

"I know I'm not making you think of me as any less impatient," you whine. "But Brian, please."

"What was that?" He lifts his head and smiles.

"You little shit," you shake your head. "I said please."

"Please what?"

"Brian!"

He licks up your folds, and you break.

"Fine, fucking hell! I want you to get up here, get this condom on, and fuck me until I can't walk or think straight. I don't want to leave this fucking room until you have to get on the road again, and god help me, but if you'll have me, I'll leave my shit here and follow you on tour and back home, and never come back to this piece of shit town again!"

He slips out from under your legs, and sits back on the bed as he rolls the condom on. "Do you mean that?"

"All of it?" you ask. "Yeah."

"Even coming with me, making that your move elsewhere?"

"My job I do from home anyway, it's all paperwork I mail out and get mailed to me," you reply. "I haven't been here long enough to get another cat, so all I have is to toss what little I have in a few bags, and go."

You move over to let him roll into the bed, tossing a leg over him as he slips his lubed up cock in between your folds, slipping inside achingly slowly.

"You'd really upset your life for me?" Brian asks as he starts to move his hips, too slow for your liking, but at a pace that's easy to match.

"It's not an upset when you've been spending months figuring out how and where to move already," you reply. "This isn't an upset, it's... perfect."

"I'll make sure you have a place, somewhere safe, and-"

You kiss him wrap your arms around him. "I know you will. Every letter you've sent, you've told me as much. That once we could be around each other again, we'd look after each other. First few years I'll admit, I thought it was maybe rockstar bullshit-"

He cackles at that, burying his face into your shoulder, curls in your face.

"But you kept writing me, and you were always interested in how I was and if you could help me or come see me, and even if we didn't have the time and ability to connect until now…"

He raises his head, and you press a kiss to his forehead, moaning at the harder thrust he offers.

"There's some saying about good things not happening until we're ready, right? Well, now we're both ready."

He nods, but buries his face back into your shoulder, whining and moaning and gloriously loud in your ear. His thrusts are more forceful now, and you cling to him, leg pressed tight against his hip.

A bang echoes against the wall, and you both pause.

"Are...is that the room next door?" you giggle.

"That's Spike, next door," Brian replies, and reaches a hand up to slap at the wall.

There's an echoing bang again, and you both break into giggles.

"You've gone too far the other way now!" you tease. "Too loud!"

"I didn't think I was that loud," Brian says as he starts to move again, hips snapping against yours. "Not yet, at least."

You let him roll you into your back, and the memory of your first night together comes flooding back. One leg propped over his shoulder, his cock hard and deep in you, his other hand rubbing at your cock.

But this time, he's loud. Whining and moaning and mumbling your name, until he comes.

He shudders as he flops forward onto you, and lets your leg drop to his side, still working his hips though any hope of rhythm is gone.

You follow him a moment later, wrapping your legs around him, crying out his name even as another set of bangs echoes from the wall.

You cling to him, pressing kisses to his chest and shoulders until he rolls of off you with a sigh.

"Better?" he smiles.

"Fantastic," you reply, and lean over to kiss him.

"I can do you one even better when we get home," Brian sighs. "No angry neighbors interrupting us."

"You've not gotten any noise complaints with Anita?"

"No," he laughs and shakes his head as he gets up to toss the condom away.

"Then Anita and I have a goal to work towards," you say sweetly. "And we'll apologize to Spike in the morning."

"And every morning after this, if we've got time," Brian smiles and drops back into the bed. "Speaking of…"

#text post #LeeH writes #brian may x reader #brian may x trans reader #brian may x male reader

[rockshortage]

some answers/comments to tags that don’t really warrant their own post but I don’t just wanna leave floating in the void

I didn’t find like a perfect example and I don’t know phonetics well enough anymore to write it out with the funky symbols, but if you put messerli in google translate and have the german voice say it, that’s pretty much it. A little wonky as the google translate voice tends to be, but good enough. mess-ur-leeh, more or less, with the stress being on the first syllable.

it WILL be, one day he can just walk around with it and it’ll listen to basic commands and he can pet it and feed it snacks and it will enjoy it with all its big shrimpness. that dude who tried taming mirelurks and got eaten ain’t got nothing on Hector and his unstoppable determination

(school scenario) hdsv probably not. it wouldn’t be like a big huge disaster, but when some jock looking mf walks up to him he will immediately assume they’re here to bully him

#hector messerli #also i'm in the train and bored #but not for much longer #once again i almost signed this like an email to a colleague #LG rockshortage #hector ref #rock.txt

[naratemari]

tag game ~

Tagged by @fairyheartfilias thank you honey for tagging me! You should all follow, her blog have a amazing content.

Rules: Answer 17 questions, and then tag 21 blogs. 

Nickname: Leeh, Lee.

Star Sign: Pisces

Height: 1,57 cm ( IDK how I can write this is in feet)

Last film I watched: pretty sure was Avengers.

Favourite Musician: I like a lot of kinds of music styles so I don't have a favourite musician but for now my favorite kind of music style is MPB ( Popular brazilian music)

Song stuck in my head: You are not alone - Michael Jackson.

Other Blogs: Co- work in animangaladies and running myself fairytailsdaily

Do I get asks: Yes and I really love all my anons.♡

# of Blogs I’m Following: 1.5k

What I’m wearing: T-shirt and Shorts

Dream Job: radiologist or a improve artist

Dream Trip: Japan, Italy, France and USA.

Play an Instrument: I start taking guitar lessons but I'm not good at all.

Languages: Portuguese and English. I understand a little Spanish and Italian but I can't speak.

Favourite Food: Lasagna or strogonoff.

Favourite Song: More than words- Extreme.

Random Fact: I have two pets.

Tagging: @reehlia , @boahancokk , @fanofanime90ss, @ina-bon, @ocarinnas , @mazusu, @uchisuke ( no pressure do it if you want to)

#tags #thank you for tagging me

[androgynouskittycollectorfan]

Abraham Hicks - Relationships - Don't hold yourself back

 RECENT POSTS

 Tom Rumary is with KP Mine Hudson.

20 November at 12:31 ·

https://i.imgur.com/YmMmbtB.jpg BIG BREASTED BIMBO #bbb Katy Perry Facts🎄 KatyPerry Perry Fernanda Hudson Perry KATY PERRY FASHION Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson Feisbuuking-Katyperry Perry San Pedro Nabolato Rryfa KAORLY MAKFOT Daniel Hudson John Rumary Johnathon Zeus Juan Andres Perry Lynvit Leeh De Jimin Kamilla Hudson Katy Hudson Bloom

 Instagram Post by ♡KatherynBloomofficial♡ • October 29, 2018 at 04:23PM GMTvia https://www.instagram.com/katherynbloomofficial

Like

Show More Reactions

Comment: I am getting my @relationship #advice from #ABS on https://www.facebook.com/#ABSabraham&EsterHicksrelationshipadvicegroup#newage ‘I am a #missmatch and I am a #miss! Instagram Post by ♡KatherynBloomofficial♡ • October 29, 2018 at 04:23PM GMTvia https://www.instagram.com/@katherynbloomofficial @kabloomupdates @kabloomey @katekabloom @kabloom @katyorlandopics @kabloomobil @kablooman @horusisisgod

 Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson's profile photo, Image may contain: 1 person

ProfileKatheryn Elizabeth Hudson

Timeline

Recent

Share

Comments

Tom Rumary

 Write a comment...

  Tom Rumary is celebrating Mothers' Day with KP Mine Hudson and 19 others at Hollywood Walk of Fame.

19 November at 12:49 · Los Angeles, CA, United States ·

Christmas at Hever Castle for KING HENRY VIII Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson Gods of Ancient Egypt return of the mummy group Sex, Drugs & Carlton Cole Amun Rara Tom Rumary Arlette Hudson Mendes Grupo de Katycats Geir Rosenvinge Ørbeckn Angel Daniel Ortiz Aquino UKproduct KAORLY MAKFOT Katycat Hudson Perry Katy Hudson + Isis Kabloom Laty Kalando Korlando Perrybloom Bloommaty 'Bubbadoo' Faked Katy Perry live around the world KatyPerry Brand Katy Hudson Bloom Lâti Lokum Bakery & Parti Evi Katys Puta Leah Bloomfield Orlandobloom BB 'Bubadoo's Bird' Kabloom news on Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson Katy Perry The Artist Taxi Driver BBC SUCKS A COCK NEWS of Ka'Bloom Katyslittyjuice Royal Academy of Art The Hague - KABK Den Haag Koala Koarla Kaorla Kaorl Karl's KatyPerry Detectedorlanobloom

 Instagram Post by Katherynsbigsmile • November 19, 2018 at 01:58PM GMTvia instagram.com

 BB 'Bubadoo's Bird' Kabloom news on Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson Katy Perry

Like

Show More Reactions

Comment

Share

Comments

BB 'Bubadoo's Bird' Kabloom news on Katheryn Elizabeth Hudson Katy Perry

 Write a comment...

 See more recent stories

Intro

Followed by 362 people

Photos

Image may contain: 5 people, people standing

Image may contain: 1 person, standing

Image may contain: 1 person, standing and close-up

Image may contain: 1 person

Image may contain: 1 person, close-up

Image may contain: one or more people and people standing

Image may contain: 2 people, hat

#ka #katy #kath #katheryn elizabeth hudson #katheryn elizabeth hudson and orlando bloom #kathewryn #katycats #@orlandobloom #orlando bloom katheryn elizabeth hudson #orlando bloom and katheryn elizabeth hudson #katy perry orlando bloom #orli #orlike #orlaty #orliuk #korlando #kaorlando #kabloom #katybloom #katheryn bloom #bloomaty #katyslando #blooms #orlandobloom

[october-rosehip]

OC Interview Meme- Ceilidh

I was tagged by @mocha-writes, who has tagged some of the usual suspects so I will tag... @madamsnark and @icylook, in case you need a timewaster.

I’m convinced all my art sucks lately so have a dollmaker Ceilidh. You can play with it here... http://www.rinmarugames.com/playgame.php?game_link=mega-fantasy-avatar-creator

1. What is your name?

“Ceilidh Tabris. It is pronounced KAY-leeh.”

2. What is your real name?

“Hero of Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Warden Commander, Maestra Arainai? Pick one.”

3. Do you know why you were called that?

“Assorted reasons.”

4. Are you single or taken?

“Taken.”

5. Have any abilities or powers?

“All sorts. I can sew, I know how to cook, I'm decent at poisons... Ohhh you mean ways of kicking ass.” By her smile you can tell she knew that, and is messing with you. “I'm very good at stabbing things very fast, I get really mean when I'm angry, and I have a good relationship with the fade for a 'normal'. I drank Avernus' weird crap, too, so there's that.”

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

“Unlike certain cuddly mages a universe or two away from me, I'm quite sure that term doesn't apply to me.”

7. What’s your eye color?

“They're green. Most people tell me they're my best feature.”

8. How about your hair color?

“Dark brown. Can't you tell? I have enough of it.” She tosses her mass of curls around, several loops of braid almost failing to keep them from escaping and frizzing out in all directions.

9. Have you any family members?

“Yeah! My family's huge. My dad, Soris, Shianni, all our adopted Crowlets; Zev's family now, and we have a daughter. Also, we found a cousin in Kirkwall. At least, we're pretty sure. He could be my brother, as similar as we look, but we don't have access to his records. But seriously, our noses, eyes, and eyebrows clearly grew on the same tree.”

10. Oh? What about pets?

“I still have my dog, and I keep a butterfly garden wherever I go. And, I mean, I have a sword with an undead dragon in it? Is that a pet?”

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like.

“Damn right, it’s cool. Anyway, I don't like politics, but I'm doomed to be involved in them, forever. I also don't like Chantry people looking sideways at my kid.”

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

“I love to read. I have those butterflies. Zev taught me to draw a little bit. We also have a slightly more personal hobby.”

13. Ever hurt anyone before?

“Of course. Often with much enthusiasm.”

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

“Did you notice that civil war we just had?”

15. What kind of animal are you?

“I don't do nice things to people who call me an animal. Just so you know.”

16. Name your worst habits.

“Other than fucking shit up for asshole humans? I... might have a bit of an issue with alcohol.”

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“All kinds of people. I didn't do any of it on my own, you know?”

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual?

“Bisexual is the best word, I think.”

19. Do you go to school?

“Aw, you probably think you're funny.”

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“I've done that. Though, I guess 'married' might be stretching matters, but like fuck I'm going to do that shit again.”

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

“I do, and it's weird.”

22. What are you most afraid of?

“Well, let's see... plenty of things. The world is scary. But I will tell you that I am NEVER going on my Calling and tradition can fuck itself.”

23. What do you usually wear?

“Ideally? Light linen or silk tunics and pants. Dalish leathers sometimes. Platemail more often than I want.”

24. Do you love someone?

“Very much.”

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

“Other than when I was a baby? The beatdown I took on the way to Fort Drakon might have caused that. It's hard to tell. I don't remember it very well, but I was bloody, smelly, and concussed by the time I got there. That’s how humans deal with surrenders, for you.”

26. Well, it’s not over yet!

“What isn't, my life? Are you saying my time in human prisons isn't over? Because if that's the case, I should warn you that we're less alone than you think.”

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class)

“Are you fucking serious? Oh, hah, you are. Well, I have several titles and a ton of money but I have no idea what half those forks are for, and my ears are pointy. Too many people in Denerim remember me as an assistant tailor, and in Antiva, it's complicated. I bought a house of assassins to save on the bloodshed, but that makes me technically a Crow, and most Crows were slaves. Yeah... it's weird.”

28. How many friends do you have?

“So many. Lots of people are decent if you just listen to them.

29. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Pie is useful. You can turn anything into pie. My favorite involves cheese and vegetables.”

30. Favourite drink?

“I like brown ale and I like chicory. Zev makes fun of me for both, but mostly because he likes to make me pretend-angry.”

31. What’s your favourite place?

“Hmmm... the beach, I think. Also, the roof. I like fresh air and I like people not knowing who I am, right away.”

32. Are you interested in someone?

“In what way?”

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy?

“All right, look, underclothing sizes are complete trash, and if you want something to fit, you have to have it made. I can help you with that. But if you want to know how big my tits are, they range from smallish to medium depending on if I've had enough to eat, lately. Being a Warden is hard on the grocery budget.”

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

“Ocean! The ocean is awesome.”

35. What’s your type?

“I like someone kind, and funny, and not too far above me.”

36. Any fetishes?

“Oh, tons. I'll try anything once.”

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive?

“I don't take orders well, that's for damn sure.”

38. Camping or indoors?

“I love camping. It was so strange moving back into a building after the blight. That said, I'm sure everyone I know is glad Zev and I have walls, now.”

39. Are you wanting the interview to end?

“Are you trying to see how far you can push me? Is that why you're asking? Silly you.”

40. Now it’s over!

“Hah! I win!”

#Meme thing #Ceilidh Tabris #profanity warning #That's just how she is

[izzy-b-hands]

There Must Be More To Life

Another melancholy fic, to try and lift the melancholy on myself, and the second of the My Melancholy Blues series.

Some Freddie/Reader (not directly addressed in the fic, but this is a trans, FTM reader again, solely because I could and I'm letting myself be self-indulgent tonight.) This is another one of the reader struggling with depression, this time with a focus on how it effects sleep and appetite. 

TW for depression, disordered eating patterns, and talk of depression naps.

My love to all who read/like/reblog.

“You need to eat.”

Freddie’s voice is warm, but strong. He’s been at this since lunch, when the most you managed was heating up a plate of already barely-edible leftovers in the microwave, only to pick at them and finally toss them away.

“I know,” you reply without opening your eyes. Napping has been the easiest thing to do for the last day or so, even though you know you shouldn’t indulge it too much. It’ll turn into a pattern, if you aren’t careful, and that pattern of depression naps and nothing else is always hard to break.

“Then let’s sit up, and figure out food,” Freddie prompts you.

“Give me another five?”

“No,” he says, and you can’t keep your eyes shut as he grabs you, gently, and sets you up to sitting on the couch, rather than laying on it. Before you can lay back down, he’s plunked himself down beside you. “You’ve had ‘another five’ over the past four hours. You need to get up and eat, and drink some water, and move, even if it’s just walking to a different couch in a different room.”

“But I like this couch,” you try to joke, but he doesn’t so much as giggle.

“Please,” he’s not quite begging, but he’s close to it. “I can’t sit and worry about you like this; you know what it does to me.”

You do, and you know it isn’t fair to him. He had planned to work on songs today, sat at the grand piano a room over. Instead, he’s spent most of it checking in on you, trying to prompt you to food or water or movement. You’ve heard the piano maybe twice the whole day.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. “That’s not enough of an apology either, but it’s all I’ve got.”

“I know,” he sighs, and pulls you close, so your head leans against his shoulder and chest. “But it’s enough for me. I know you can’t exactly help this-”

“I’m not doing much to cope with it today though,” you admit.

He nods. “Thank you for owning up to it. I can’t imagine that’s easy.”

“No, but it’s a part of this whether I like it or not. I’ve got to own when I’m not handling this well, or I can’t work towards handling it better in the future.”

He squeezes you tight to him and wraps another arm around you for a moment. “I know you might not feel it right now, but you’re a good person, Y/N.”

“But I’d be a better one if I ate?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Let me order something, if nothing else. Whatever it takes, so long as you eat.”

Delivery is the unfortunate shorthand solution to this issue with food you have in the depths of it all, and you don’t like that, but Freddie and your therapist are quick to remind you it doesn’t matter so long as you’re at least eating.

You shrug, and shiver against him. “I guess. I just don’t feel that hungry.”

“I know,” he says, and you know he does. He’s always listened intently when you’ve explained how the worst days with your depression make you feel, how they fuck with your appetite. “But I heard your stomach growl earlier. You’ve got to at least try and eat.”

He reaches to the coffee table in front of the couch, and hands over a delicate tea cup. “It’s just water, but I thought the cup might make it more fun to drink, at least?”

You take it gently, and let yourself smile. “It does. Fancy water, is what this is.”

“If I order soup, we can probably put that in a tea cup too,” Freddie muses. “If you think it would help.”

You haven’t done much laughing in the last few days, but that gets a giggle. “It might, but you don’t have to do that. We can just get whatever sounds good to you, and I’ll make myself eat.”

He waits until you’ve set the cup down on the table again before he leans in to kiss you. “Alright, I’ll take that. At least you’ll be awake and eating.”

“I promise I’ll try to stay awake after we eat,” you say, and you mean it. “...could I maybe sit in while you work? If you don’t mind, of course.”

You try not to intrude on his song-writing sessions, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit they were a comfort to listen to, even if parts of them were Freddie swearing under his breath adorably at a phrase or measure.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “There’s a couch in there as well, even.”

At anyone else that might have been a dig, but you’ve been with him long enough to know he’s joking. “Yeah, but it’s one of the antique ones. Not very comfortable, and I’m half-afraid I’ll break it if I breathe funny while I’m on it.”

“All the more reason to stay awake and not snore then,” he smirks playfully.

“I do not snore that loudly!”

“But you do snore,” he laughs. “Stay awake long enough for me to get the takeaway menus, alright? I’ll be back.”

You let yourself lean on the couch while you wait, but you don’t let your eyes close. He’s putting all this effort into keeping you afloat, the least you can do is try to help, and kick until you tread water.

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #freddie mercury x reader #freddie mercury x male reader #freddie mercury x trans reader

[izzy-b-hands]

My Hand's On Your Grease Gun

Synopsis: Set sometime in 1984. You and Roger in a car, on a day trip to Hull (insert Douglas Reynholm: “That’s right; we’re going to Hull!), plus smut, plus Emotions because apparently I can’t just write pwp, I gotta make it all lovey dovey lmao. 

A note that I do not endorse any mucking about like this while driving. Is it hot as fuck? Yeah. Is it also dangerous? Yup! For the sake of fiction, a bit of foreplay with a car in motion is no problem here, but in actual life, cars are dangerous! If you’re gonna do anything smutty in a car, at least have the damn thing parked somewhere safe lmao. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” 

Roger’s tone is playful, but his voice shakes slightly.

That lets you know you’re on the right track.

The right track in this case being convincing him to finally pull over and fuck you in the backseat of the car he’s currently driving. He’d spent all of the day prior to the trip (just a day trip to Hull, since you’d never been and as Roger put it, there was ‘fuck all else to do at home’ for the moment) teasing you, insinuating you might not make it to Hull without several stops in secluded areas if he had his way.

Yet once you’d actually gotten into the car, he’d been all focus. Which was fine, but you wanted your fun too.

“I have been told so,” you reply, not moving your hand from where it taps at his inner thigh, teasing at the seam of his jeans. “But I don’t think I’m all that bad, do you?”

He smiles and shakes his head, eyes on the road, but you can tell he wants to be looking elsewhere. “I suppose not. But you’re still something else.”

“Me? No!” you feign shock and awe as your fingers traipse further upwards, lingering but not rubbing or playing with the edge of his hard cock. “I’m an angel, an absolute delight, or so I’ve heard.”

He swallows hard, but it’s a testament to him that he doesn’t waver in his control of the car. This still isn’t exactly safe, and you know better than to push too far while the car is in motion, but all the same you feel safe doing what you are with Rog at the wheel.

“You’ll have to prove that to me later,” he finally smirks. “Angels are breathtaking, aren’t they?”

“I think I can take your breath away, if you give me five minutes,” you joke.

“Only five minutes?” Roger scoffs playfully. “I can’t tell if that’s more insulting to you or to me!”

“Call it even and consider that after that initial five minutes, you could drive us to the hotel and we can repeat any experimenting there, and take all the time we like,” you say, moving just one finger along the line of his cock.

“We could just go straight to the hotel,” he suggests.

“Could, but I’m impatient,” you admit, then lean over so you can whisper in his ear. “And honestly? I’ve dreamed of fucking you in this car until both of us are too out of breath to do anything more than lay there. Surely the hotel and Hull can wait until we’ve done that...”

You settle back into your seat, only your hand staying put in Roger’s lap.

He blushes, and slaps a hand gently on the steering wheel. “Alright. But I’ve got to find us somewhere out of the way. Not going to fuck you with someone’s fucking cows watching from the next field over or something.”

“Fair enough,” you agree, and lean over again, this time to rest your head against his shoulder.

Even without the promise of sex and the teasing, you simply enjoying driving with him. You’ve never felt so safe in a car as you do with him, and there’s a joy in knowing that he’s sharing something he enjoys with you. You only have to ask, and he’ll happily go on at length about the repairs he’s done to the car you’re in, or tell you stories about driving around the country on tour in years past.

Which is why you can’t help but fall asleep for a bit, only waking up at the feeling of his hand in between your legs, and his lips on yours.

“Sorry to wake you,” he smiles. “If you’d rather I get us back on the road,  I can. It won’t hurt me to wait.”

“You found a place?”

He nods, and points out the window to the empty driveway in front of what looks to be an abandoned house, with boarded over windows. “Might be haunted, but you don’t mind if a ghost watches us fuck, right? If you had to choose, cow versus a ghost as a voyeur?”

You break into giggles and move away from him to stretch as best you can. “I suppose I’d choose a ghost. But no one’s here, right?”

Roger shrugs. “Far as I can tell. Drove us all the way down this driveway and onto some of the roads into the back fields, and didn’t see anyone. Not any other vehicles, nothing.”

“Good,” you smile and reach to open your door, but he stops you.

“I don’t know that we need the backseat,” he says, and leans back as he moves the driver’s seat as far back as it can go.

Even more tempting than the backseat is his lap, and you kick off your shoes, slip out of your trousers and pants as quickly as you can manage, watching as he undoes the button of his jeans and moves them down enough to free his cock and balls.

There are condoms in the glove compartment, and you pass one over to him, waiting until it’s on and he’s nodded for you to climb onto him.

You aren’t wet enough to slip him inside yet, but you know it won’t be long with your smaller cock rubbing up against his. His lips are soft and warm against yours, and even with heat behind them, he still makes each kiss feel like the sweetest thing.

His hands travel, finally settling on your ass, helping you settle into a comfortable rhythm with your hips rocking against him.

“What if someone was watching?” he murmurs in between kisses. “What would you think of that, just out of curiosity?”

“If I knew there would somehow be no consequences for it?” you reply. “Then it would be hot as fuck. Bonus points if it’s someone we’d want to be watching.”

He smiles against your lips in another kiss, moving into a whine as you grind down slightly harder on his cock.

Time fades away for awhile, and there’s only you and him. It comes back when your knees start to ache some, and you both quickly move out of the car, only to climb into the backseat instead. You on your back, Roger gently laying on top of you, his cock finally slipping inside.

Immediately, his head drops to your shoulder, and he groans.

“I did say five minutes,” you joke. “And if you count all the making out, then we’re well past that.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “But I didn’t really want to come right away. Give me a moment.”

“Of course,” you smile and hug him close.

For the first few moments, it’s fine. You like the feeling of him inside of you, and it’s all delightfully warm and comfortable.

He picks his head up and gives you a shit-eating grin as you squirm underneath him. “Not yet.”

“You ass.”

He kisses you gently. “Yeah. But you love the anticipation, don’t you?”

You do, truthfully. It’s been a game before; sitting in Roger’s lap in bed, his cock hard inside of you, but no movement. Not right away, at least. On the days there’s decent time, you both prolong it as long as possible, with Roger occasionally reading from whatever book he’s on to keep you both restrained.

But you’ve been teased for essentially two days, and waiting isn’t the name of the game anymore.

“Please,” you beg with a smile, and focusing on tightening yourself around him.

He smirks and finally moves his hips.

If there was anyone watching, they’d certainly be able to hear you now as well.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he laughs and kisses you in between your moans and whines. “That’s adorable.”

“Don’t tease,” you sigh and reach your hands down to his hips, letting them rest there as he thrusts.

“I mean it,” he replies, sighing happily himself as you move your hips to meet his. “I always like seeing you happy, you know? But moments like this...you aren’t holding anything back. You’re gorgeous.”

He leans down to kiss you again, and you feel tears hit your face as he does.

“Don’t you start,” you say, tears already prickling at your eyes. “Or I’ll start.”

“Can you blame me?” Roger’s hips are moving slightly more erratically now, you know he’s close, but you aren’t far off yourself. “I’ve got the most handsome, kindest, dearest man in the world, and he’s all mine. If I can’t cry happy tears over that, then I don’t know when I’m allowed to cry.”

“I can’t,” you reply, looping your legs around him, wanting him as close as humanly possible. “But then you can’t blame me for crying over the same.”

There’s no more talking after that, only the two of you, and the last few movements of your hips against each other. You try to hold off, to wait for him, but after a particularly deep kiss that leaves him moaning into your mouth, you’re gone. 

You don’t intend on pulling his hair or scratching down his (thankfully covered by his shirt and jacket) back, but in the moment, you can’t help it. 

That’s all it takes to set him off, murmuring your name in your ear, rutting against you roughly as he comes. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters a few minutes later, breathing hard, his cock softening inside of you. “I get it now. The appeal of fucking in the car, why you wanted this so badly. Shall we start scheduling this regularly? I think we ought to.” 

You giggle and press soft kisses to the side of his face. “Sure. We can start with another stop on the way back home from Hull.” 

“We still have to make it to Hull!” 

“Which is what, another two hours away? And they do recommend we stop after each hour of the trip for a break; don’t the experts say that?” you tease. 

“That they do.” 

He smiles and eases up off and out of you, quickly disposing of the condom into an extra empty bag on the floor of the backseat and tucking himself back into his pants. After his jeans are sitting back on his hips and buttoned, he retrieves your pants and trousers from the front seat and tosses them back to you. 

“Mind if I lean on you again?” you ask as you climb over into the passenger seat again. He’s already back in the driver’s seat, sunglasses snagged from the center console and covering his pretty blue eyes. 

“’Course not,” he smiles and pats his shoulder. 

He doesn’t start the car until you’re comfortable against him, and even then, he’s careful as he slowly backs the car out and down the long gravel driveway. 

Once you’re back on paved road, a hand wanders again. This time, to hold one of yours. 

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x male reader #roger taylor x trans reader

[izzy-b-hands]

Routine

I fully own this is incredibly self-indulgent. 

A bit of Freddie/Reader, with Freddie helping the Reader out with the changing of their testosterone patches (something I use myself, so this is my admission that this is completely echoing my own experience here with them.) 

Also some smut, because I've been in that sort of way lately when it comes to writing lol.

My thanks to Rushing and Finn on the DL Server for beta reading this and helping out with the editing process!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

"I'll only be a few moments," you say, and slip into the bathroom of your and Freddie's hotel room. 

You've been with Freddie for awhile now, but even so, you've not yet had to change your testosterone patches in front of him. It isn't that you've hidden it or anything (and he knows well that you're trans and that you use the patches; he's seen them on your body after all.) It just simply hasn't happened where he was around to watch it happen.

Part of it is that they need changing in the evening, and usually you just dip away and do it quick and then come back to wherever you might be at the time: home on the couch with Freddie, on tour and in a hotel bar with the lads, etc. 

But now he opens the door as you're mid-patch removal on the first of the two you wear each day, and he winces as much as you do as the tough adhesive refuses to let go of your leg hair and skin. 

"This is why you said it's better to take them off in the shower or bath?" he asks, and sits on the edge of the tub. 

You nod, and keep gently tugging at the patch as the edges come slowly off. 

"Would warm water help?"

You nod again, but don't stop. If you stop, then you'll really feel the pain of pulling it off, and that's no good. 

He hisses in pain as the patch finally comes away. "You said something once about rinsing the spots after you take those off too, didn't you?"

"Yeah," you reply as you set the first spent patch on the counter and reach for the second one still on your thigh. 

He stands and gently grabs your wrist with one hand, the other snagging a clean washcloth off the counter. "Let me help."

You watch as he wets the washcloth under the sink with warm water, then kneels in front of you.

You'd taken off your trousers and pants for this; easier to be nude than to try and worry about getting water on your clothes while rinsing the spots down before putting on new patches. 

Which makes it incredibly intimate, to have Freddie kneeled there. It's not the first time he's been in that position, sucking at your small cock, fingers in your cunt. But this is different, and intimate in an entirely different and affectionate way. 

He rinses over the spot where the first patch was first, wincing at the raised skin as his fingers trail over it. "That's normal, right?"

"It is," you reply, and run your hands through his hair, unable to help yourself. "Between the adhesive, the aluminium in the patch, and the T gel, it can be a little harsh on the skin. Doesn't help that my skin is sensitive to start. But I'll take this over needles, for now at least." 

He nods, and leans in to kiss the spot, but you stop him with a touch to his cheek. 

"There's residue, might not taste the best."

He shrugs, and kisses just beside the spot instead. 

"If this hurts too much, let me know," he murmurs, and uses the washcloth to dab at the edges of the patch, only working to pull the tab of it up once it's sufficiently damp. 

It's better than pulling it off completely dry, and you can't help but moan a little at the relief. It's always nice, taking the used ones off at the end of the day, but having someone else do it for you? A wonderful dream you hadn't even realized you'd had. 

He kisses your hip, and giggles as he keeps working. You've never told him your method with a washcloth, but he's picked up on it regardless, alternating between dabbing at the patch and gently tugging it off your skin. 

Once it's off, he stands briefly to set it on the counter by the first, and rewets the washcloth. 

He returns to his knees and rinses off the second spot, but there's a glint in his eye this time. 

"If you'd rather not have me do this, just say and I'll stop," he says. "But forgive me the urge..."

Even as he moves the washcloth over the spot, he leans forward to kiss your hip, the top of your mons. His tongue flicks out to lick at your cock, then down to your folds. 

His free hand reaches to your ass, to hold you close to his mouth as he works to suck at your cock. His eyes are shut, long lashes gorgeous, but for a moment he blinks and those brown eyes meet yours, and you melt.

After another few moments, he abandons the second spot and tosses the washcloth to the counter.

You take the opportunity to move and lean your back against the counter, spreading your legs wider as he adjusts himself on the floor. 

"If your knees hurt, we can move to the bed," you suggest, but he shakes his head and reaches for the dirty towel you'd used during your shower earlier, tossed to the floor because frankly that's what you'd both been doing to ensure you didn't confuse clean towels for dirty or vice versa. He folds it quickly and moves enough to shove it under his knees. 

"You've got a solution for everything," you smile, again brushing your fingers through his thick hair as he kisses at your thighs. 

He shakes his head slightly and smirks before sucking again at your cock, moaning around it. He makes it no secret that he gets off on being able to get you off like this, and there's the added sweetness of what he did for you with the patches making it even better now. 

Because truly, it's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you. It's not just additional acceptance of that part of you, it's the concern and care and love that inspired him to follow you in to begin with. That he wanted to see this part of your life, this little day to day thing that's become as important as drinking water or brushing your teeth. 

His arms loop around your thighs, helping to hold you up as his tongue alternates between your cock and inside your folds, licking and sucking and leaving you weak in the knees. 

"Freddie," you try and forewarn him the closer you get to your orgasm, but he only sucks harder at your cock.

You nearly fold in on yourself as you come, thighs shaking as you try not to trap his face in between them. 

You end up pushed up on the counter some as he suddenly scoops you up and swings your legs over his shoulders, holding you in place with his arms while his mouth stays busy at your cunt. 

He only stops once you've come back down to yourself, and he sits back looking utterly pleased. 

"Did that help to ease the hurt of those some? That's what my idea was, after all."

You slip down to the floor and kiss him with a smile. "It did. Do you want to help me put the new ones on too?"

He nods, and stands with you, watching as you free the first one from its packaging. 

"Let me," he takes the patch from you, and waits for you to point to a spot on your other thigh. 

"Just make sure and press round the edges of it," you instruct as he places it, fingers gentle on your skin. "Give the adhesive time to take hold."

"It certainly fucking holds though," he remarks, but his fingers stipple over the edges of the patch until it seems firmly set. 

"It does, but not if you don't press it on well and make sure not to get it wet for three hours," you chuckle. 

"No shower together tonight then?"

"In three hours from now, sure," you reply. "But not before, or these could slip off me."

He nods, and takes the second patch from you once you have it ready. 

You point to another spot near the first new patch, and lean into his touch as he places the second patch. 

His fingers press the edges of it down, then move to trace the slightly dark circles from past patches that are fading all over your thighs, then to the ones on your hips and stomach. The ones on your upper arms have faded more, but a few have bruises from where you failed to stop itching them, after the patch was off. It almost tickles, the way they linger on your skin. Softly, sweetly, the same way he'd touch you while laying together in bed.

You rest your head against his chest, and hug him close. "Thank you. For everything."

He hugs you back, and kisses your forehead. "Of course. Now, shall we get back to the bar downstairs? See if the boys managed to leave our drinks alone while we were gone?"

"I should probably put on pants and trousers first."

"Overrated, but if you insist," he giggles. "We'll only be taking them off later."

"True," you smile, but you redress regardless. 

---

Later, downstairs sitting at the bar, your hand twitches as you try to itch through your trousers at the still irritated spots from the used patches. 

Without a word, Freddie reaches over and takes your hand in his, and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

#text post #LeeH writes #freddie mercury x reader #freddie mercury x male reader #freddie mercury x trans reader

[izzy-b-hands]

Rocktober Day Three-Copper/Kinktober Day Three-Pegging

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34262212

gonna do my Kloktober piece for today later. I’m exhausted and can’t stop coughing so I’m gonna try and sleep a bit more before I tackle that. But for now, here’s one done for today at least.

#text post #LeeH writes #also have a rash for no apparent reason every time I itch my skin and I'm really fkn itchy and have been all day #very sick of my body just doing whatever the fuck it wants

[izzy-b-hands]

Kloktober, Oct. 10th: Abigail Appreciation Day!

I decided to go with something cutesy, in an AU where all the guys have gotten over their crush on Abigail (Nathan included, because...look, she can do better. I love Nathan, I do, but she can do better! She’s a strong beautiful lady who I want the best for!) 

Synopsis: It’s her birthday! Maybe! The guys are certain it is, at least! And even if it isn’t, she’s getting the best birthday she could ask for (within the abilities of the Dethklok boys, of course.) But it’s still pretty good, and they mean well. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“Guys, this isn’t nece-” 

“No!” Pickles protested. “It’s your birthday, you deserve this!” 

“Actually-” 

“Let usch schpoil you!” Murderface shouted. “Everybody wants to be schpoiled on their birthday!” 

“I agree,” Abigail tried again. “Although, some people-” 

“We gets you a cake!” Toki cried, pushing a cart into the room that held not one, but five cakes. “We couldn’ts choose just one, so we each picks a cake for you.” 

“We gotta sing!” Nathan added. “Hang on, hang on...I didn’t warm up.” 

“For the birthdays song?” Skwisgaar scoffed. “You don’t warms up for that!” 

“I’m a professional!” 

“If I could just let you know something, quickly-” Abigial started, but the song had begun, and then stopped as Skwisgaar and Toki began to argue with Nathan, Pickles, and Murderface over the lyrics of it. 

She didn’t have the heart to tell them. 

They were a month early. They’d gotten so close. But it really wasn’t her birthday yet, and they’d put so much effort into it...

Every room she had been in had balloons with her name on them. There had been two flower deliveries already, and she was sure three more were due before the end of the day. Every meal, from the breakfast pizza, to the spaghetti lunch, was in the shape of a heart (the spaghetti less so than the pizza, but she could respect that they had tried, since both meals so far had tasted very homemade, which was an interesting taste with the boys as cooks.) 

“Can I interrupt?” she asked. “I can see what you’re trying to do, and I want you to know I appreciate it.” 

They paused, eyes on her. Ever since they’d gotten over their crushes, it had turned into an odd thing where they didn’t quite see her as a weird mother figure or anything like that, but they were smart enough to listen when she spoke (an admirable achievement, according to Charles.) 

“But...” she hesitated. She could tell them the truth. “You know, I don’t even care about the song. I care that you guys went to all this trouble. I think I can allow a break from recording for cake, if you guys-” 

She bit back a snorting laugh as they dove back to the cart, plating up not for themselves, no, but for her. A slice from each cake, handed to her all at once. 

Had anyone told her in the past that she would eventually end up working for the dumbest, yet somehow sweetest, biggest metal band on the planet, she would have scoffed. Had they continued to tell her that she would end up getting birthday cake at least three months out of the year, due to their inability to remember or write down birthdays correctly on a calendar, she would have laughed. 

But in the end, it was pretty damned good. 

And they hadn’t even gotten to the mountain of presents yet. 

#text post #LeeH writes #metalocalypse #metalocalypse fic #kloktober #abigail remeltindtdrinc #I feel bad I couldn't make this longer #but work killed me today and I'm trying not to fall asleep as I type #Abi my dear I will write you something longer and better in the future I promise

[izzy-b-hands]

Don’t Try So Hard

The third of what I’m now calling the My Melancholy Blues series over on AO3. 

John/Reader (gender neutral.) Your depression is keeping you from writing, and it’s the most frustrating fucking thing. But John isn’t one to leave you lingering in that sort of a funk, and he’s got a way to get the words flowing again. 

As with the first two of these fics, a TW for depression, as well as negativity directed towards the self and one’s creative abilities in this one. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog. 

“I don’t mean to intrude,” John leans into the bedroom. “But you did say you were going to write something, and then you wanted me to read it within the hour.”

You nod, and tap your pen against the pad of paper on the bed.

“It’s been three hours, and you’ve not brought me anything,” he continues. “Are you okay?”

“Maybe I’ll just never write again,” you mutter, and toss the pen into the corner of the room.

He walks in and retrieves it, setting it on the bedside table before climbing onto the bed beside you. “And why is that?”

You gesture at the empty page. “Look at this! What sort of writer can’t fight past whatever their brain is doing to keep writing?”

“A human one,” John remarks as he looks at the paper. “You’ve been in a funk the last few days, that doesn’t mean-”

“I’m the worst writer on the planet,” you fuss, and flop back onto the pillows. “And possibly several others, but that can’t be established for sure until we know there’s life on them.”

“You’re wallowing,” he says in a warning tone, but he flops back beside you, and wraps an arm around your hip. “You know that doesn’t do you any good.”

You wiggle closer to him and drop your head to his shoulder. “I know. But I can’t help it. I’ve been trying to drag myself out of this, trying to get something on the page, anything, and-”

You sigh and groan in frustration. “Nothing! Less than nothing, because I could have at least had a decent idea, you know? But no, not even ideas, just...a whole lot of fucking nothing.”

“Write something for me,” John says, in a tone that suggests it’s the simplest thing in the world, that he’s shocked you didn’t think of it sooner.

“Well, I was going to have you read whatever it was regardless,” you say.

“I know,” he says patiently. “But it wasn’t for me specifically, was it? I mean, write something just for me. Something you might only want to show to me.”

“Okay,” you lift your head and meet his gaze. “But how does that help? I still want to do it, don’t get me wrong, but...”

“It helps because you’ll get past whatever gate your depression is putting up to keep you from writing,” John replies, with a gentle jab to your forehead with a finger. “And because it’s just for me, for us, you don’t have to worry about meeting the ridiculously high standards you keep in that head of yours. Just get it written, because I want to read it.”

“Like a poem, or a story, or...”

“Anything,” he says. “I’ll even stay right here, for inspiration.”

“Plus you’re comfortable?”

“That too,” he yawns and settles into the pillows as you sit back up and snag the pen from the bedside table.

For awhile, you sit, and stare at the walls. There’s nothing coming, less than nothing, somehow.

Until you turn and look at John, who’s fallen asleep.

He’s gorgeous. He always is, to you, but when he sleeps, there’s an odd…

It’s hard to put words to, almost. Elegance is the closest you can get to sum up the emotions you feel, watching him lay there peacefully. His lashes are long and the lines of his jaw and nose and brow fit and angle together in a way that reminds you of ancient sculptures, beautiful in the museum displays John so often takes you to.

Finally, some words start to tumble out, and you hope the scritch of the pen won’t wake him.

Even once it’s done, you hesitate to wake him. He’s breathing deeply, obviously as comfortable as he can get.

But he wanted to read it, and truthfully, you’re proud of this one.

You kiss him softly and lay down to rest on his chest, the pages of the finished poem in your hand as you rest it across him.

It’s another moment before his eyes flutter open, and he yawns. “Sorry. Didn’t actually mean to sleep that hard.”

“No matter,” you say, and hand him the pages. “You were inspiring regardless.”

He rubs at an eye before he starts to read, and it turns to giggles, then to barely visible tears in his eyes.

“You wrote this about someone else,” he jokes, but sniffles. “You must have.”

“I did not,” you say, and kiss him. “All you. Thank you for getting me past the roadblock in my head.”

He nods, and kisses you back. “Now what are you going to write about?”

“You, again,” you smile. “Inspiration isn’t all gone on that yet.”

“And all I need to do is stay here?”

“Sleep, read, do what you like, but yeah. I think as long as you hang out here with me, I’ll be able to keep going.”

His hand rests on your back as you sit up and grab the paper and pen again, and just like that, you’ve got another topic ready to go.

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #john deacon x reader

[izzy-b-hands]

Kloktober, Oct. 26th: Happy Ending or Sacrifice

Happy Ending, because I needed that today. 

Synopsis: Charles/Pickles. It’s a very special day for them, and everyone is involved!

Oh god. Oh christ. Everyone is involved. Oh No. 

But it’ll still be okay, probably. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“It ain’t metal!” Pickles protested, but he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. 

“Maybe not, but I think we can make an exception,” Nathan said as he tried to fix Pickles’ skewed bowtie. “Like...us being happy should always be metal.” 

“Even if there’s no blood or guts at this?” 

“I mean...if Toki gets pissed off during the ceremony, there might be some,” Nathan replied. “And he’s really, really insistent that nothing ruin this for you guys.” 

“Gets me a fuckings decent flower arrangements for the table or I haves you killed!” Toki shrieked as he stomped into Pickles’ room. “Ams we ready in heres?” 

“Yeah,” Pickles smiled nervously. “What the fuck. I’m gettin’ married. What the fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up...” 

He let Nathan catch him before he could fall to the floor, leaning against him until he felt less light-headed. 

“No pukings, no faintings, we ams on a schedule!” Toki cried. “Gets him up and puts together, does whatever you has to!” 

“Toki, I think he just needs a minute,” Nathan said. 

“I don’ts have a minutes, I have a cakes delivery to checks on!” Toki shouted as he left them, the door slamming behind him. 

“You good?” Nathan asked gently. 

Pickles nodded. “Yeah. Just...I never thought I’d be gettin’ married to anyone. Ever. That anyone could ever lo-” 

He cut himself off. Today wasn’t the day for that insecurity, especially now that he knew it to be false. 

“I’m okay,” he continued with a deep breath. “Charlie already out there and waitin’?” 

“No idea,” Nathan admitted. “I’m your best man, Skwisgaar is his. And neither of them have texted me to say if they’re ready, but knowing them-” 

“They’ve been waiting for us for the past fifteen minutes,” Pickles chuckled. 

They headed out, and his breath caught in his throat. 

He knew what Charles looked like in a suit, yeah. It was most of the man’s wardrobe. But for their wedding, he’d gone all out, in something a little more metal with a hint of Snakes N’ Barrels fashion. Black suit, velvet, with blood red accents, and tiny silver skulls for his cuff links. A barely visible outline pattern of crossed drumsticks adorned his bowtie. 

“Not bad?” Charles smiled gently, as he reached out for Pickles’ hand. 

“Can I kiss you now, or do they make you do some stupid shit like wait until after the ceremony?” Pickles asked breathlessly. 

Charles laughed, and pulled him in close for a deep kiss. 

“Oh good, you don’t gotta wait,” Pickles mumbled dreamily as Charles let him go. 

“We don’t have to wait,” Charles said. “All we have to do is get married; that’s our only responsibility today.” 

“Really?” Pickles asked hesitantly. “I mean, I know Toki is-” 

“Running the show and losing his mind?” Charles finished. “True, but he’s doing fine enough. Murderface is handling the usher duties, and-” 

He gestured to Skwisgaar and Nathan, stood there patiently waiting, smiling. 

“We’ve got our best men to look after anything else.” 

“If yous parents cause problems, I will shocks them,” Skwisgaar said, and pulled a taser out of his suit pocket. 

“And Amber said she didn’t bring Seth,” Nathan added. “Just her and the baby. Apparently, and I quote, ‘he’s knee-deep in hookers and blow and doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.’ So...we shouldn’t have to worry about him. Should maybe worry about their marriage though...” 

“We could get her a divorce lawyer and a job here, right?” Pickles asked Charles. 

“We could, and all she has to do is ask,” Charles replied. “But we’ll save that for the reception when we go to say hi to the table she’s at.” 

“Sounds good,” Pickles said.

“Are you going to make eyes at me like that all ceremony-long?” Charles teased as Nathan and Skwisgaar led them down the hallway to the living room, which had been set up for the ceremony. 

“All ceremony-long, and every day after,” Pickles mumbled as he blushed. It felt almost too vulnerable to say aloud, but then again, why shouldn’t he? They were about to get married, fuck anyone who thought them being lovey-dovey wasn’t metal as fuck. 

“Alright,” Charles smiled. “Only if I get to do the same to you.” 

“Countin’ on it,” Pickles said, and gave him one last kiss before they reached the living room. 

He knew it wouldn’t be too long before they got to kiss again (it was, after all, a nondenominational ceremony of their own creation, designed not to take too much time so there was more time for the reception.) 

But still, he needed that one to hold him over, and he’d need a million more after each day, to make up for days where Charles had to travel, or when he had to go on tour. 

And he was looking forward to every single kiss. 

#text post #LeeH writes #metalocalypse #metalocalypse fic #kloktober #charles/pickles

[izzy-b-hands]

👀

oh man I went deep into the vault for this one; I started this Skwistok fic over three years ago lmaooooo

To give some background, Toki asks Skwisgaar to write a love song for him. This is post-Doomstar, with them in an established relationship, with Skwis doing all sorts of sappy shit for Toki, but this is the one thing he hasn’t done yet. 

---

“Pickles, this ams importants. Stops laughing,” He wanted to shout, but kept himself quiet. Pickles’s room was close enough to the living room that Charles might hear them and come to investigate.  

“He asked ya for a love song, huh? That’s...actually fucking adorable. Jesus, you two,” Pickles said, taking a sip from the beer in his hand.

“You wrotes some, didn’ts you?” Skwisgaar asked, feeling even more desperate than before.

Pickles nodded. “Snakes n’ Barrels had a few. Mostly just to catch groupies, but a few had more behind ‘em.”

“Someones behind them?” Skwisgaar pondered who Pickles might have been writing about. He’d never mentioned anyone before, from that period of his life, and he could be a fairly open book when he wanted to be.

“Yeah,” Pickles said, looking at the wall ahead of them, his eyes showing that he was clearly somewhere far away. “Someone. But my someone don’t matter now--new bands, new someones...all that jazz. Your someone is what we gotta focus on.”

“I’ve got somethings. I don’t think it ams good though,” Skwisgaar said, blushing at his own honesty. It wasn’t often he out and out said he’d written something he thought was shit. Or that he wrote something bad, for that matter.

“Love songs are easy. A little bit ‘I love your body’, a dash of ‘I can’t live without ya’, maybe a touch of ‘let’s fuck till we can’t feel anything’--I’m sure you did just fine,” Pickles said, taking the notebook pages Skwisgaar offered.

He read silently for the most part, though one foot tapped out what Skwisgaar figured was a drum line.

“Shit, dude. Can you play a little bit of it, what’s the whole thing sound like?” Pickles asked.

It had taken some doing to find an acoustic guitar, but there’d been one hidden away in a part of the basement that Charles had brought to him without question. It didn’t feel quite right, playing so slow, but he did it.

Pickles looked shocked. “You tryna get a ring outta him or somethin’?”

“No?” Skwisgaar said, utterly puzzled.

“Okay, cause that’s what it sounds like. This is over shitty love song--you hit the shit people play at their weddings. So I figured...never mind, forget I said anything,” Pickles waved a hand.

Skwisgaar was caught by his statement though. Had he, subconsciously, been trying for that? Marriage hadn’t been a goal for them--sort of set aside, as a ‘cool if it happens, not world-ending if it doesn’t’ thing.

“Ah shit, I gave ya a complex, didn’t I? Look, I think he’ll like it just fine. That’s what matters, right? I mean it just...seems deeper than a lotta other love songs. It works for you guys though, and--you did good,” Pickles said.

“You means that?” Skwisgaar asked.

“Fuck yeah. I mean...okay, let me get weird and feckin’ emotional, okay? If someone played this for me, told me they wrote it for me and about me? I’d think they were really serious about us, and would want me to know that and feel the same. Like, they’d be playing this to set our--gahd I hate this word--’commitment’ in stone,” Pickles said. “So, you did good.”

---

#text post #ask box things #LeeH writes #someday I oughta finish this dang fic lol #it probably needs a rewrite all over #but still #some good bits in it yet #apineappleheart

[izzy-b-hands]

Fun In Space

The fourth and final fic in the My Melancholy Blues series. 

Roger/Reader (gender neutral.) A shared hobby is a lovely thing for a couple, but this particular time, your depression gets in the way of enjoying it. But Roger’s an inventive, sweet, and supportive partner, so he’s not going to let you languish in that hell of not being able to enjoy what you’re doing. No, he’ll find a way to make it good again, and you couldn’t be more grateful to him for it. 

TW for depression, and as noted above, discussion of how it leeches the joy out of normally beloved activities. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog. 

The house is quiet. As it always is, when you and Roger are both tucked into books.

The issue today, is that you’ve been on the same page for two hours. And the day before, you couldn’t get past that page either.

You do want to read the book. Or you did, at one point. You just can’t summon any urge to actually read now though.

You know it’s a part of the general depression pit you’ve been working to claw your way back out of. Roger’s been plenty supportive as always, but you don’t want to interrupt him now with it. He treasures your time spent reading together.

Even now, you’ve got a hand holding his still, each of you with your books in your other free hand. He’d grabbed for you right as you’d settled down on the bed together, and while his fingers occasionally twitched, or his thumb moved across the back of your hand in a gentle rhythm, he didn’t ever let your hand go.

“Not as good as you were hoping?”

His voice shakes you out of the odd trance you’d settled in, staring at the page without absorbing any of it.

“Um. Something like that.”

He frowns and sets his book down carefully, mindful not to lose his spot. “What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter; I’m just happy to be spending time with you,” you try and deflect, but you can’t avoid those blue eyes, searching your face for clues about how you’re feeling.

“That’s well and good,” Roger says. “But it does matter, actually. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t get into it,” you sigh. “Or any book, or anything, for that matter. You know how I’ve been the last few days, how I get when I’m like that. Doesn’t matter what I do, how much I normally like it. It’s like pulling teeth to relax or enjoy anything.”

He takes your book from you, letting go of your hand so he can slip bookmarks into both books before dropping them to the floor by the bed. “Then we’ll take a break from this. No point in it if you aren’t having fun.”

“But you were,” you protest. “We shouldn’t stop just because my broken brain-”

He flashes you a warning glare as he turns back to you, pulling you down to lay on the bed in his arms. “None of that talk. I won’t hear it, you know that.”

“I know,” you reply, and nuzzle against him. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Roger tuts gently. “Just don’t like hearing you talk about yourself like that, is all. Your brain has some trouble, maybe, but it isn’t broken. No one is broken.”

“What about reporters, or music reviewers?”

“Well,” he laughs, and it brings you to giggles too. “I suppose they aren’t broken either. Irritating, assholes, dumb as hell-”

“Okay!”

“I could go on,” he chuckles. “But I won’t. You get what I mean; even they aren’t broken.”

“I wish I didn’t feel broken,” you murmur.

“I wish I could take that feeling from you too,” Roger sighs. “But since I can’t, the least I can do is cuddle you and remind you that you are far from broken.”

He’s warm in your arms, and the love you feel for him in the moment is the strongest thing you’ve felt in days. It’s lovely, and reassuring, and perfect.

“I’ve had an idea,” he says, and presses a kiss to you before awkwardly leaning away and off the bed to retrieve his book. “What if I read to you, hm? Best of both worlds.”

You nod. “You get to keep reading, and I can just lay here, since that’s all I’m good for right now, apparently.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Roger stresses. “Sometimes that’s all we can do, and you know what? That’s fine. You’re here and mine and that’s more than enough.”

“You sweet-talker, you,” you tease as you both readjust. Roger so he can lean against the headboard and pillows somewhat comfortably, his book in one hand. Yourself so you can rest against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as much as his voice.

As he starts in on the chapter he’d been working on, his free hand again finds one of yours, and squeezes it tight.

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #roger taylor x reader

[izzy-b-hands]

Denim

Ok, that Bri fic as I mentioned earlier, inspired by these pics. 

Synopsis: Brian/Trans M Reader. Brian is freshly home from tour, and dressed to impress. Or at least, he is to you, even if he didn’t actually have that as his intention. 

TW: This is just...so NSFW. That’s p much it. I tossed my usual pinch of Emotions in there too, but mostly smut. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

"You did not say you'd be dressed like that," you smirked. "This is just unfair."

Brian looked down at his outfit. "Jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket are scandalous now? Pray tell, when did that happen?"

"Now," you grinned, yanking him into the house. "Jesus fucking christ, the jeans alone, Bri-" 

"Are...jeans?" He laughed as he tossed his luggage to the floor so he could get both hands on your hips, and kicked off his shoes. "Is this all because I'm home? Or is it only the apparently all-magical jeans?"

"Both," you smiled. "I missed you. And those jeans are so tight, I think you disclose your state of circumcision or lack thereof without having to take them off."

Brian blushed. "Fuck, I shouldn't have wo-"  

"Don't you dare say that," you interrupted, pulling him gently down for a kiss. "You should wear them more often, is what you should do!"

"I probably traumatized someone, passing them in the airport!" 

"I'm sure everyone you were around is fine," you reassured him, half-distracted as you started to yank off your clothes, letting them fall wherever, until you were down to your pants alone.

He started to follow suit, but only got as far as his coat and shirt off before you stopped him. 

"No. Let's make it a challenge. I bet I can make you come without you even having to so much as unbutton or unzip those." 

He smiled, and pulled you by the hand to the couch. "Hell of a welcome home surprise. What do I win?"

"If you manage to somehow hold out," you said, settling beside him on the couch, fighting the urge to climb in his lap right away, and settling for tracing your hand on his chest instead, fingers lingering down at his happy trail. "Oh, I don't know. I can't think straight with you in those, frankly. What would you like, as your winnings in that case?" 

"You call in sick the next two days," Brian said. "And I know your supervisor has been getting on you to use your vacation days before the end of the year, and you've almost accumulated more than you can keep anyway-"

"Okay," you interrupted, wanting to get the talk away from work and back to him and you and those damned jeans. "And what do you suggest we do those last two days before the weekend coming up? Oh, I know. Chores, right? Ooh, we could retile the kitchen, maybe, or-"

You giggled as he interrupted you with kisses, softly pushing you back onto the couch, cock half-hard already under the soft denim that pressed against the fabric of your briefs.

"No, I don't think we'll have time for any of that," Brian breathed warmly against your neck in between kisses and the gentlest nibbles, with only a hint of teeth, the best and worst tease. "We'll have time for making the bed, getting in it, and leaving it maybe every now and again. But otherwise, I intend to keep myself preoccupied with you. Everything else can wait."

"How dare you be so sweet and romantic," you joked, as you wiped away a tear that had sneaked out. "When I'm this horny. What am I going to do with you?" 

"Don't know," Brian mumbled against your skin. "You'll have to show me."

"You've got to get off of me, if you want me to do that," you smiled as you tapped at his chin, until he brought his mouth back to yours, and kissed you deeply.  

It took your breath away, but not enough to distract you from the bet. 

You slipped off the couch as he moved off of you, and sat back against the couch, feet on the floor. 

"Just curious," Brian smiled as you moved to kneel between his legs. "What do you get, if you win this?"

"Aside from the hottest satisfaction of getting you off like this?" you asked. "I suppose I might request something simple."

"Is that so?"

You nodded as you moved your hands up and down his thighs slowly, feeling his muscles twitch as you did. "Like you having to keep these on after, while I get myself off on your thigh, and you kiss me senseless the whole while. Then some snuggling after we've cleaned up. Too tall an order, for my winnings?"

"Not at all," he replied, a hand tapping at the couch.

"You can't wait now, can you?" you giggled. "You want it so badly..."

"I can be patient," he protested playfully, sticking out his bottom lip in a cute pout that left you wanting to suck at said lip. 

"I'll believe it when I see it," you said. "What if we add a little extra to this bet?"

He cocked his head, curls bouncing just slightly. 

"You have to come while these are on, no unbuttoning or unzipping allowed, and you have to wait until I say you can come," you continued.  

He nodded. "Fair enough rules. I'm game."

"Good," you chirped, and leaned down to lick a stripe up the line his hard cock made in his jeans. 

His hips jumped at the contact, and you smiled. 

"Still confident you can win?"

He nodded, but you could tell words were mostly beyond him already. Eyes blown wide, hands itching as he fought to keep them near him. 

You resumed your task, reveling in it. It was a kink you didn't often get to indulge, trying to make him come in his trousers, and you did have a particular affinity for it when he was in jeans too. So this was an extra fantastic homecoming, as far as you were concerned. 

You fought the urge to grind down on your own leg or to move a hand to your cock and folds, instead focusing on Brian, your hands touching at his hips and thighs, teasing at the tight waistband of his jeans. Your mouth stayed right by his cock, licking and sucking as best you could through the jeans. Delightfully, you realized he'd not worn pants under them, warm as his cock felt through the material. 

He groaned as you kept on, finally moving his arms to rest along the back of the couch. 

"I didn't say you couldn't touch me," you smiled up at him, humming just a bit as you licked up the outline of his cock again. 

"I know," was the somewhat strangled response. "Don't think I should though. Can't, is maybe the better word." 

"Still so certain you'll win?" You giggled, and sucked hard at his cock, moaning against it. 

His hips jerked roughly. 

"No, but I don't care. Fucking christ, please Y/N, please-"

"Not yet," you said softly, kissing at his cock. He was rock hard, and a part of you wanted to run and snag a condom from the bathroom, get his cock out, and ride him until you both saw stars.

But that wasn't the bet for the night. 

He moaned wordlessly, pliant under your hands as you kept on with the teasing, difficult as it was to focus the more he whined and begged. 

You felt his cock shudder slightly, and grinned as you looked up at him. You didn't really care who won, because as far as you cared, you already had. He was home, with you, and you were going to spend the next few weeks making up for the time he'd been gone. That was a win enough for you. 

"Okay," you said, then did your best to suction your lips near the head of his cock as he came, warm through the denim. 

You were ready to let him have his win, and give him a moment to compose himself, but he gestured for you to take off your briefs, and to sit on his lap. 

"Not done yet," he murmured as he helped you moved against his barely starting to soften cock, a hand at the small of your back and another at your hip. 

It didn't take much, or long for you. The feeling of the denim soaked with his come against your folds was the hottest fucking thing, and his lips lingered at your neck and chest, kissing and sucking hickeys onto you as you rocked and ground against him. 

You knew you were going to come hard, but you came even harder as you felt him come again, with you. His cock pulsed just enough that you could feel it, grinding against him as you worked yourself through your orgasm. 

For a few moments after, you both lounged against each other, kissing hard, breathlessly. 

"So," you finally said, gasping slightly as he playfully bucked his hips up. "I'm going to take those two days off. And all of next week too, I think."

"I like it," Brian sighed happily. "And I think some cuddling is in order, per your request. Once I can stand up again." 

"I like that," you smiled. "That's tonight sorted. But what about all this time off?"

He kissed you sweetly. "Bed, as much as we can manage. Whatever else we want to do, and no worrying about anything else. And one errand."

"Oh?" you asked.

"I need to buy more pairs of these," he blushed, gesturing to the jeans. "Straight away, I think you'll agree?" 

"I do," you giggled, and leaned gently against him. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he whispered. "I'm so glad I've got you to come home to."

You were glad too, but words enough to convey it escaped you, so you settled for kissing him again.

And you knew he understood. 

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #brian may x reader #brian may x trans reader

[izzy-b-hands]

Kloktober Day One “Favorite Character/OTP”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34214653

#text post #link post #LeeH writes #kloktober2021