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jacklyn-flynn · 3 years

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This entry is particularly special to me! @charlatron co-authored this as a sequel to the fantastic fic she wrote me called Fire & Blood which you can read here. It involves her sex positive Olivia Trevelyan meeting my lovely, if not naive Warden Briall. They immediately hit it off and once Zevran arrives, all three get to know each other better.

I’ve written the third in the series for her Satinalia present and we’ll be posting that after this week so keep an eye out for more of our OT3, lemony goodness!

Hi Liv!

I so enjoyed spending that week with you! I’ve been talking about you nearly the whole trip home and I’m sure Zevran has had enough of it. I really wish you two could have gotten to know each other. I’m sure you would both get along swimmingly.

He did tell me something that I wanted to address. Honestly, it’s a large part of my decision to write to you before we got home. I have to apologize for my behavior. Zevran informed me that you were, in fact, hitting on me. Or rather, as he put it, you were giving me the “fuck-me eyes.” I truly hope that I never said or did anything to lead you on or make you uncomfortable!

I really enjoyed having another woman to talk to. I wasn’t really comfortable enough with Leliana to discuss relationship things and you were just so easy to talk to!

Again, I’m so sorry for my obliviousness. I’m afraid I’m still not really good at picking up things like that. I suppose I should have guessed when you talked about your experiences with other women. I’d never considered it before so I’m not sure what I would have done differently if I had noticed. Zev has brought up several ideas. I’m pretty sure he likes the idea of someone else joining us. I don’t know how I would feel about sharing my husband's affections with an incredibly beautiful woman who is far more experienced than I am!

But, it is fun to think about, isn’t it?

Curiously,

Briall

P.S. Zev absolutely loved that thing you suggested I do. Thank you!

My dear, sweet Briall,

I was so happy to receive your letter - a fact I had not expected to be true when we parted ways. I have not previously put much effort into maintaining acquaintances, and rarely dwell on the absence of a person’s company, but I feel as though I found a true friend in you. A kindred spirit, perhaps? It fills me with a certain kind of warmth I haven’t felt in an age to know that you speak of our time together with such fondness.

As for that extremely perceptive husband of yours, it seems he was able to deduce more in a few seconds than you did in almost an entire week; for I was, in fact, “hitting” on you. I have to admit, I had forgotten how it felt to have my “fuck-me eyes” fail quite so spectacularly, but for all my failed attempts it did at least mean I was able to cultivate something entirely different with you. Something rare and wonderful.

You are a remarkable woman Briall, inside and out, and I apologize if this admission of my initial intentions makes you feel at all uncomfortable.

There is something I feel I should tell you, however. Upon reading your words “But, it is fun to think about isn’t it” I remembered a dream I had, that last night we spent together.

Oh, who am I trying to fool? I did not just remember... I think of it often. I would say I’m sure you can imagine what kind of dream I am alluding to, but let us be honest, your track record for understanding these things is not the greatest (I am laughing as I write this).

I’m talking about sex, Briall. You, me, and that ridiculously pretty husband of yours doing the most wondrously filthy things to each other, and when I woke up… well, I haven’t been that disappointed in a very long while.

So, in answer to your question: yes; it really is fun to think about.

I do sincerely hope you’ll write me back, though understand if the contents of this letter dissuade you from doing so.

Hopefully,

Olivia

P.S. Empowering, isn’t it?

Dearest Olivia,

Your letter certainly didn’t make me uncomfortable! I was rather expecting something along those lines, now that I have been educated in all of the things that I missed during our time together. Perhaps a bit embarrassed, but not uncomfortable.

I was far more embarrassed when my ridiculously pretty husband saw me furiously blushing over your letter. I didn’t plan on disclosing our private correspondence but as you can imagine Zevran is very persuasive.

Now that I know your erotic intentions I find myself thinking about them and what I might have done differently. A lot. Certainly, nothing would have happened without Zevran's approval but, unsurprisingly he has given permission without even having to ask!

Zevran is a very skilled man (and I mean very) but there is something appealing about being pleasured and pleasuring someone who knows exactly how it feels. Which is to say, I would absolutely need lessons but I'm positive I would have at least two volunteers for tutilage. I am a very quick and motivated learner.

My experience is extremely limited, and I've often wondered what might have happened had I not met or committed myself to my gorgeous Antivan.

Perhaps sometime in the future, I might find out?

Curiously,

Briall

Dearest Briall,

I am glad to hear that my confession did not elicit any negative feelings - and even more so to learn that such delightful curiosity might even be encouraged by your amore. Clearly, he is far more secure with your relationship than most spouses tend to be.

Genuinely I am uncertain if you intended for your last letter to tease me so, but, for the purpose of my reply, I have decided to assume you do in fact know exactly how such words would have been received.

One thing I am certain of however is that you would indeed be a very fast and extremely thorough learner - and I would very much enjoy the opportunity to assist in providing such intimate education.

Amongst other things - namely how sweet your cunt tastes when brought to climax - I do find myself wondering exactly how open-minded this seemingly perfect husband of yours is.

And... on a completely unrelated note, I have had to alter the course of my travels and will soon be arriving in Denerim. I’ll be staying at the gnawed noble for a week or so... should that be of any interest to you?

Patiently yours,

Olivia

Dear Olivia,

I apologize for the delay in the delivery of this letter. It had nothing to do with your previous correspondence though I’m sure you must have thought so! As it turns out, Zevran and I are on our way to Denerim as well to visit our dear friend, Alistair. We happened to get caught in a large storm and I didn’t dare send the poor raven out in it. By the time you get this letter, we should be only a few days from the city.

Zevran is excited to meet you properly and I am ecstatic at being able to see you again! (Assuming you don’t mind his company. We’re rather a package deal.) We will have so much to catch up on and so many new things to discuss.

I would definitely not be interested in staying at the Gnawed Noble. I have less than fond memories of that place. As such, I’ve written ahead to the staff and requested one of the Orlesian suites in the palace. In typical Orlesian fashion, the beds are nearly twice as large as normal in that wing. If you would be interested in spending the latter part of your trip with me and Zevran in our suite at the palace, we would be glad to have you.

Because I can be less than clear I want to state, in writing, that I am inviting you to share said bed with us. Preferably naked most of the time, with very little actual sleep going on. I’m so nervous my hand is shaking as I write this! All of the possibilities running through my head are absolutely thrilling.

Despite my jitters, you can rest assured that I am excited and very sure of this little adventure! Zevran is as well, regardless if he is just an observer or participant. (I can promise that you would very much enjoy and benefit from his participation.)

Until we arrive, you have full use of the suite should you like to use it. Just mention my name and they’ll set you up with the lodging, including all of the palace’s amenities and all of the food and drink you can stand.

Affectionately and excitedly,

Bri

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

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You write fenrys so well 🥺

Can I request something for him falling in love with a lady who works in a library and is friends with aelin and he keeps finding excuses to visit the library and one day they realize they’re mates ? Can you plz include alot of longing looks & touched and his friends noticing ?

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: drinking, small argument, mainly fluff

a/n: kay so it's been a hot MINUTE since I've posted and I am sorry my loves, also I comepletely modified this but I hope you still like it, comment and shiz pls it really helps with writers block lol <33

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You had met Aelin sometime after the war. She had been wandering around town a couple days after the coronation, smiling at children and waving at the elderly, observing the way the town was slowly filling again, people returning home now it was safe. There weren’t many people about however, it just being seven in the morning.

She had walked past a shop then. It was small and rickety, the door barely on its hinges as a girl fought with it, swearing like a sailor.

“Do you need some help?” she asked, moving to stand beside the girl. You screamed instantly, jumping out of your skin at her sudden appearance, having not heard anyone coming due to how absorbed you were in your job. Aelin screamed when you screamed, and it left the two of you staring at each other with wide eyes before you fell apart in fits of laughter.

You stood from where you had bent to clutch your stomach, wiping tears from your eyes as you calmed down.

“Jeez you fucking gave me a heart attack,” you laughed as she apologised, still giggling behind her hand. You then turned, hands on your hips as you glared at the door of your shop.

“Rude men should be put down,” you muttered and Aelin was laughing again.

“That I can get behind,” she said as you opened it, giving up on fixing it completely, Aelin gasping when she saw the inside.

“You have a bookshop!” she exclaimed, and you laughed.

“Had, now I just have dusty books and a broken door. It was my mother’s before…” you trailed off and Aelin put a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and you shrugged.

“It’s fine, it was ages ago anyway,” you stepped further into the shop, going to the large window up front and tugging of the white sheet that obscured it from light. “However, this shop isn’t dead yet so might as well get it done.”

Aelin looked around the shop, the paper on the walls was peeling, the paint on the shelves cracked and the books covered in a fine layer of dust. “Damn, where do we start?” she asked, rolling up her sleeves and grinning at you when you whirled around, frowning at her.

“Doesn’t the queen have better things to do?” you asked, and she shrugged, laughing at your bewildered expression.

“I’m sure my husband will cope.” You gave her an unsure look at that, and she laughed, “He’s competent.”

“If you say so.”

“If you knew I was queen you really have no fear of authority do you?” she asked as you started pulling books down and pilling them onto the sheet you just pulled off the window.

“Respect is earned, plus you’re the one who made me shit myself.” She laughed again, smiling widely, and helping you take down more books as she realised this was the most she had laughed since the war ended.

The worked all day. First removing the books and putting them upstairs in the rundown apartment you lived in, filled with plants, blankets, and somehow even more books. Next the repainted the shelves, setting them outside to dry while they re-wallpapered the walls and cleaned the floor until it was shining.

When the sky got darker you swore as you realised neither of you had eaten all day, going up to your new friend and asking her what she wanted for dinner.

“I make really good pasta,” you had suggested, and she had nodded enthusiastically as you went upstairs to your apartment, drinking wine as you cooked together. As you ate on the floor, drinking yet another bottle of wine, this time straight from the bottle Aelin asked about your past.

You assured her it was relatively normal, asides from the whole ‘evil tyrant thing’ as you put it. You talked together for hours, going back downstairs, and bringing the now dry, sage green shelves back in and putting all the books away, setting them in categories.

Hours later Aelin decided to go home, not wanting to worry so much and she opened the still broken door, the both of you laughing as you realised you had forgotten a pretty integral part.

“Hey, you could just name the shop, ‘the broken door’,” she suggested, and you smiled.

“That would work.”

When Aelin got home she was met with a concerned Rowan, asking where she had been all day.

She smiled at him, pausing before answering, “I think I have a new best friend.”

Rowan frowned at that, “And what brings you to that conclusion?”

“Today was the first time I’ve laughed since…” she trailed off as silence fell at the thought of their past few months, Rowan then bringing her in for a hug.

“You know this means I have to meet her too then,”

“Nope my best friend get your own.” She shoved him playfully, falling asleep next to him that night with a smile on her face.

They went to see you the next morning and Aelin laughed when she saw your dishevelled state.

“Did you sleep?” she asked when she walked into the shop and found signs put up and plants dotted around the room as you sat on the floor, drinking a coffee that smelt so strong she almost gagged, much preferring sweeter tastes.

“Sleep is for the weak!” you said, half-heartedly raising your hand.

“And what’s with all the plants?” Rowan asked, frowning as he almost walked into another and you sat up straighter, glaring at him.

“What you too good for plants?” you asked your hands moving over-exaggeratedly as you got to your feet. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just a stinky man,” you whispered to the plants and Aelin laughed at her husbands offended face.

You stood and started walking upstairs, your feet dragging as you went to get breakfast. You heard them follow you and you pushed open the door to your flat.

You had even more plants up here and Rowan rolled his eyes as you moved to open the large windows, letting in fresh air, you then moved about making pancakes, mixing enough for the three of you and adding blueberries when you were finished.

You cooked them up while chatting idly with Aelin and Rowan, only receiving a small amount of judgement when Aelin discovered you didn’t actually have a bed and instead just a mattress on the floor with a sheet for warmth and some soft pillows. Your house was newly decorated, art hung on the walls, plants and candles decorating every surface.

“Tea, coffee, water, vodka?” you offered them drinks and Aelin whined.

“No vodka, we had too much wine last night,” you laughed at that as you served up coffee and pancakes.

“Yeah we’ll have to go properly drinking some night,” you muttered, Rowan chuckling under his breath and nodding in agreement.

The three of you ate the rest of your food, laughing and joking together and Rowan really noticed the difference in Aelin’s manner. She hadn’t been truly comfortable or at ease in months, always looking over her shoulder, but now she sat laughing with her friend and Rowan wanted to thank you a million times over for bringing her back out of her shell.

Since you first met Aelin you were meeting up almost every day, discussing books over tea and hanging out at your shop, or drinking from expensive glasses in her castle while trying on elaborate dresses. Soon you were practically apart of the family, but that didn’t stop the confusion Fenrys felt when he walked into the castle and found a young girl sleeping on Aelins’ bed, a book opened but abandoned on her chest.

He tentatively walked forward so he could see her more clearly and felt his heart clench when his eyes fall upon her peaceful face, her eyes closed, and hair spread around her head like a halo. He was about to reach a hand out to brush a strand of hair from her soft hair when he heard the door open, turning to see Aelin run in, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

“Fenrys I didn’t know you were back,” she said when she pulled back, bouncing on the soles of her feet excitedly and he laughed.

“Are you going to explain why there’s a girl in your bed, or do I need to break some news to Rowan,” he joked and she shoved his shoulder before moving to the bed and shaking the girl awake.

“It’s just (y/n),” she explained as the girl huffed and rolled away from Aelin.

“Ah of course this person who I definitely knew existed,” Aelin stuck her finger up at him as he laughed, unable to stop his eyes from trailing back to her.

He watched as she breathed in deeply, her eyes opening slowly as she took him in, before she pulled her covers up to over her chin and frowned at him and Aelin with a small pout.

“I was having the best dream every asshole,” she complained and Fenrys smiled as she sat up on her elbows and reached a hand out to him to shake, introducing herself. He brushed the shake of and instead brought her hand to his mouth pressing a kiss to the back of it as sparks show through her skin at the sensation.

“I’m Fenrys, ambassador of Terrasen,” he smiled cheekily as she shrunk away slightly, nerves taking over her, “hope to see you around more.”

He left, pressing a quick kiss to Aelin’s temple, and winking at you as Aelin moved over to you with wide eyes.

“Aelin…” you started as she squealed.

“He was totally flirting with you! You would be such a cute couple, please, please ask him out I need you two to get married and have to worlds prettiest babies!” she was bouncing in hr seat as you moved to shut her up.

“Okay ONE, I just met him. And TWO, he was far too pretty for me,” you said and Aelin frowned.

“Nope, nope you are incorrect, and he is going to fall in love with you,” she demanded, and you laughed, kicking her with your foot.

“Mhm sure.”

The next few days, Fenrys was coming to your shop every day. He would bring chocolates and flowers some days, or coffee and pastries other days. Always dropping them off with a smile, before lounging in the plush, green chair in the corner of the shop and talking to you for hours. He has also started coming to your and Aelin’s weekly cocktail night, wrapping his arm around your shoulder’s and laughing drunkenly into your neck as you told stories.

However, through all this you remained ‘friends’. He would press kisses to your cheek and hands, keep an arm slung around your waist when men came to speak at you at bars and primarily referred to you using pet names and rarely ever your actual name. And it was getting frustrating.

You were having to start putting genuine effort to not kiss him every time you had a drink and he sat extra close to you. Or when you were invited to parties, and he moved smoothly through the countless questions asking if you were dating.

And while you revelled in the attention it was tearing at your heart slightly as insecurities told you that he would never actually be interested in you. You wanted to scream at him every time he kissed you but wanted to melt into him every time he hugged you, your brain constantly at battle with itself when he was near.

You knew you were due to explode any time soon. So when you were out one night and he was holding you extra close, you pulled away, muttering an excuse about getting another drink.

Standing at the bar as you waited you rested you head in your hands for a second before you saw a man begin to approach you. He was attractive, not like Fenrys, but honestly you would take anything to get your mind of him at the moment, so you smiled at him, tilting your head.

“What’s a doll like you doing all alone?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly, unlike the smooth, deep timbre you were used to, but you just laughed.

“Waiting for a man to not dehumanise me,” you bit back, and he raised his hands sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, what would you prefer?” he flirted, sidling up closer to you as you turned to face him.

“Can’t go wrong with ma’am,” you joked, and he laughed, looking down and shaking his head, only to look back up, his eyes going wide. You felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist and looked up to see Fenrys, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as he glared at the man in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice deep and full of authority, the man in front of you shrinking under his gaze.

“Shit sorry man, didn’t realise she had a boyfriend,” he apologised and this time you did roll your eyes.

“He’s not my-“ you began but Fenrys cut you off.

“Yeah she does, so back the fuck off.” You looked down as he spoke, shaking your head as tears of frustration built in your eyes. You harshly pulled out of his grip, leaving the bar as quickly as you could, wiping away the escaped tears as you heard Fenrys follow after you, shouting your name.

You whirled around when you got outside, your glare murderous.

“You do not get to do that!” you shouted as he moved closer to you.

“Sweetheart I’m sorry,” he began but you cut him off.

“NO! I am not your girlfriend! You have never once asked me to be so you don’t get to try scare away any guy that might have genuine interest in me!” his shoulders slumped as you spoke. Truthfully, he has been working up the courage to ask you out for months, and while he knew it was unfair how he treated you, he couldn’t help himself. He was addicted. He thought of you constantly, the texture of your skin, the smell of your hair, the way your eyes lit up and the way you moved your hands as you spoke. So when he saw you engage with the man that had the audacity to talk to you, his grip tightened on his glass so much it shattered, ignoring the worried looks from Aelin and Rowan as he stomped over to you.

“(y/n) listen, I’ve been an asshole I know,” he raised his hands, tentatively stepping towards you, “But I really care about you, and I want to be yours.”

You laughed bitterly, “You’re just saying that.”

He shook his head vehemently, stepping closer to you again and wrapping his arms around your shoulders so gently, one would think you were made of glass.

“I love you darling, please be mine,” he said into your hair, and you pulled back, looking up at him through glassy eyes before nodding slightly.

“I love you Fenrys,” he smiled down at you before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss against your mouth, pouring his heart into the action. You gasped slightly as your lips met and he smiled widely against your mouth as the bond clicked into place.

“You know this means I now have an excuse to break the nose of any man that talks to you,” he whispered against your lips, and you giggled, shoving at his shoulder gently.

“I’m still annoyed at you,” you muttered, and his eyes darkened.

“Well I’m sure I can make it up to you.”

#fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #throne of glass

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cohentm · 4 years

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✮ ∷ ╰ 𝖈𝖔𝖍𝖊𝖓 & 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖜 :

a connection / plot masterlist .

oof hey babies! i’m making this post so y’all know exactly how i’m breaking down the plots i have so far. i jotted down fulfilled connections, followed by the people i know i’m still in the midst of plotting with ( labeled “tba,” will be updated once we’ve decided on a backstory ), & at the end i listed some wanted connection ideas! even if you see your character on this list, though, and you’re like miss bri.... i want to change / add to / alter / etc that paragraph u wrote... especially if u see a wanted connection and you’re like whew i kinda want that now.... puhlease lmk. i’m down for absolutely anything & everything. mwah. x

𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘.

parker , ride or die .

these two could be a tag team duo if they wanted to be--and practically are when it comes down to it. cohen isn’t scared to get into a fight just because parker’s already there. parker’s hotheadedness and cohen’s will to throw a punch have been melding since the earliest of days, when parker was getting into abrupt locker room fights with their own teammates, even. cohen, being the type who can’t avoid starting shit with those same teammates, never found himself pooling more blame into parker’s bucket. instead, cohen sympathizes the only way he knows how: by holding out his hand and letting parker know that cohen doesn’t need a rhyme or reason to have parker’s back. for cohen nowadays, it’s just on sight.

olivia , meeting in the middle / opposites attract .

the truth is, olivia should absolutely hate cohen, and cohen should absolutely hate olivia. she’s all warmth & sunlight and he’s all hasty reactions & tunnel vision. but for some reason, olivia has managed to penetrate his demeanor without even trying. he tries to be marginally ��better” whenever he crosses her path. when they speak, he finds himself thinking things out a fraction deeper before he throws the whole idea / person / situation in the garbage like the pessimist / self-acclaimed “realist” he is. at parties, he’s the first to jump into a fight, but with olivia’s soft touch, he hesitates. he doesn’t know what it is about her, but she makes himself second guess himself ( often for the better ).

finn , chaotic neutral & neutral evil friendship .

if there’s one person cohen can stand for extended periods of time, it’s finn. finn’s chaotic neutral personality melds with cohen’s neutral evil personality seamlessly. oftentimes, finn and cohen are the duo at the party nodding at each other from across the room because a situation is escalating and cohen’s already rolling up his sleeves prepping to knock someone out for the hell of it. no matter what, finn’s a non-team member cohen’s constantly catching himself leaning on a little. he doesn’t feel like he has to watch his mouth around finn, let alone feel guilty for something like a consistently dirty car ( LXFMDFG ), which is a refreshing feeling cohen doesn’t often run into.

leo , harsh truth-tellers .

it isn’t uncommon for cohen to bump into leo, given his record for getting called off the field. coach tended to send him to the locker room with a physical therapist just to hide the fact that what cohen was actually getting called off for was excessive anger during a game. leo’s a hardass just like cohen, though, which makes speaking to her simultaneously easier and harder--since she’s bound to knock heads with him, but also give it back just the way he takes it. if there’s one thing cohen’s an expert at in their tedious relationship, though, it’s judging leo for all she’s worth. part of him loves the fact that she keeps herself so upright, after all, so when she’s simping hard and cohen feels she’s dwelling or losing track of herself just to appease people who treat her like shit, cohen’s never been afraid to let her know. this gives their relationship a rocky little twist, but cohen doesn’t shy from the truth.

summer , no strings flirtationship ( ft. mild to severe seemingly unrequited pining ) .

summer and cohen have always been oddly close in a way that cohen isn’t close with anyone else. in high school, in a dramatic effort to push summer away after too many a repeated fling, cohen invited summer to his chaotic home. however, poised as she was, she remained entirely unphased by his chaotic living situation & family. since then, cohen has felt more uncomfortably comfortable around summer than he has around anyone else. she continuously manages to seep into his life all on her own. they sleep together casually on occasion, often fight “playfully” in an effort to egg each other on, and tend to open up to each other entirely unprecedently.

clara , ex-girlfriend circa cohen’s sophomore year of college ( two years ago ) & family friends .

cohen and clara have been linked via their love for each other’s sibling since high school. clara was always best friends with his sister natalie, and he was always best friends with her brother cam. although clara was a consistent aspect in cohen’s life, they never got together until clara’s senior year of high school, which was subsequently cohen’s sophomore year of college. cohen was convinced he’d make it with her ( which is a rarity in & of itself ) much longer than they actually ended up making it, since cam died a year into their official relationship, sending both cohen and clara spiralling in entirely separate directions.

renee , PLOTTING ENSUING ! TBA .

tyler , PLOTTING ENSUING ! TBA .

rafael , PLOTTING ENSUING ! TBA .

devon , cousins .

georgia , PLOTTING ENSUING ! TBA .

𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘.

childhood best friends and/or cousins : someone cohen knows very deeply, and vice versa. maybe they lived in the same trailer park, maybe your muse’s rich family is related or connected, somehow to his poor cowboy redneck family ( maybe his construction worker dad was drunk on the job and now ur muse’s family thinks of his alcoholic messy parents as nuisances? maybe his parents think ur muse’s parents are too posh and hate their guts? ), maybe their families don’t get along.... maybe their families DO get along and ur muse is someone his parents ask after and talk about constantly! the possibilities are endless. regardless, though, this muse and cohen grew up playing together, smoking cigarettes ( or ur muse watching 12 y/o cohen smoke a cig MVLKFDG ), pretending to be grown because cohen FELT like he was grown by the time he could speak clear sentences, etc. cohen’s family’s a mess but they’re a family all the same. they may fight and drink constantly, but at the end of the day you can find them outside their trailers sitting in camping chairs drinking budweiser around a campfire and making fun of each other.

unrequited / secret / forbidden crush : maybe your muse secretly liked cohen and never said anything, maybe cohen secretly liked your muse and never said anything, etc. bonus points if your muse’s family knows cohen has a whole ass petty criminal record a la ryan from the o.c. and would absolutely throw a fit if they saw their kid even looking in cohen jetson’s general vicinity for too long. LKMDFK how they each deal with their crush today is totally up to us.

bail out : someone who vouches for cohen even when he’s getting into the worst kind of trouble. maybe they’ve caught him coming down from a high ( he used to take athletic stimulants for energy & performance, and is currently eight months into his most recent recovery / rehab attempt ) and have kept the fact that they saw him using on the dl in an effort to give him a chance to be better without getting kicked off the team. maybe they’ve given him a ride home from jail after getting picked up for fighting or public drunkenness and his parents weren’t picking up bc why would cohen’s parents ever.... LMDSFLKFG. maybe cohen bails ur muse out too and secretly helps them even when they should be left to suffer in the SAME way that cohen should be left to suffer. but they’re too close. it’s almost like they coddle each other. maybe it’s due to some romantic subplot or something like a sibling inkling. OOF maybe they’re exes. kill me now u know?

sponsor - esque relationship : basically someone who can cool cohen down when he’s craving a high, craving alcohol, when he’s getting irritable because he’s not performing well enough, when he’s going workout-crazy and needs someone to be like bitch.... can u sit down for like five seconds? LDMDFLKGKFG someone who doesn’t care when cohen cusses them out for no reason because they’ve got a tough shell and know he’s just getting irritable w them because he’s having a moment. someone patient w him. someone he has probably cried to before because he’s...... tired.

party friend : self-explanatory! maybe they’re infamous for ditching parties and heading straight to bars together. LDFMKD absolutely iconic of them. they’ve probably at least made out upwards of ten times because that’s.... cohen. SKDFJ unless ur a straight male, in which case, he politely flirts with u and that’s it. x basically this muse has seen him get into unwarranted bar fights just because he’s a bitch who will ALWAYS throw the first punch, this muse has walked home with him when they’re both way too drunk to drive, this muse probably goes back to cohen’s apartment PLASTERED with him after midnight and stays up to cook a meal and play a game of uno with him, etc, etc. we love nothin’ but warm-hearted fun in this house.

exes on bad terms / hateship / enemies that detest each other : oof someone cohen has screwed over multiple times? more likely than u think. which is very likely. LKDSMFLKDF maybe they were exes? maybe cohen cheated on your muse? maybe cohen cheated WITH your muse and your muse didn’t find out until the break-up? maybe cohen beat your muse’s brother’s/dad’s ass and now there’s bad blood? maybe cohen broke things off with your muse before things could ever get serious? maybe cohen’s general demeanor just pisses your muse off? we’ve all been there KDNFDLKGN. basically these two hate each other and don’t even TRY to hide it anymore.

#✮ ∷ ╰ 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓇𝓊𝓃. ∴ ゜wanted connection. ゜#✮ ∷ ╰ 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓇𝓊𝓃. ∴ ゜plot breakdown. ゜#sniffles this is finally here & i can breathe clearer now KFMLMF i feel organized...

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leah-halliwell92 · 5 years

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Too Much Love Can Kill You

Summary: Soul marks are found through touch and song, one must sing to find their half and touch completes their connection. To reject your mark is to sentence them to death. You have been on tour with Brian, Roger and Rufus for a year and have known them for nearly four. What happens you find out along the way that you are the mark of one Brian May?

Previously:

“I…I can feel her,” the older man gasped with a breathy laugh.

“And you hadn’t before?” Rufus asked carefully.

“No, I had felt something before but not since we completed our bond,” Brian admitted.

“She’d closed her end,” Rufus said now understanding what had happened to you.

Brian’s eyes widened at that fear now a prominent emotion, “Why did she…?”

“I don’t know. But whatever reason she had for closing the bond, it could be the reason for why she was in the state she was in when da went to her,” Rufus said almost to himself, “She went into shock…from withdrawal.”

Prologue – Chapter 1 – Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Roger felt her small gasp of surprise and couldn’t help give a breath of relief recognizing the action as a sign that both marks’ bond had met. He saw a soft smile start to form your lips and couldn't help the small sad grin that appeared on his.

"He's there...I can feel him," she whispered tiredly her smile growing despite the wince of the phantom pain.

You felt your mark warm and heart thrum as Brian's end of the bond seemed to embrace you. You basked in the feel of your bond meeting his as if you’d been doing it all your lives. This feeling of completion, love and hope...it is borderline euphoric. If it weren't for the fact that their bond and are hanging onto whether or not he accepts them the moment would have been perfect.

In the living room, Rufus sat with a quietly sobbing Brian a supportive hand on the older man’s shoulder.

“She...she knew,” Brian gasped between sobs as the realization of what he had been about to do fell on his shoulders.

Rufus furrowed his brow in wonder at what Brian could mean with that.

“She knew what Bri?” He asked reluctantly.

“That I would reject her, us our bond and she knew why,” Brian said as a fresh wave of tears hit him.

Rufus’ eyes widened at the revelation. He should have known, and taken you warnings to heart, the reasons you’d told him from the moment he found out whose mark you carry and all the reasons you gave him were not out of spite or you being a bitch because of the age gap. It couldn’t be further from the truth, and now is when he realizes that you had taken the time to get to know Brian deeper without doing much in hopes that it would be enough. That this friendship would be enough.

Silence surrounded them as Brian’s sobs subsided.

“She loves you you know,” Rufus said quietly.

Brian looked at the younger man in shock.

“Has for awhile now, since–”

“Since we sang our song,” Brian cut in voice soft and broken.

Rufus nodded silently.

Brian remembered that day… and to this day he couldn’t remember a day you hadn’t looked so happy and yet so sad at the same time. He fell back against the backrest of the sofa and let his head fall back against it. He closed his eyes letting the memory take over.

In the bedroom, you snuggled into the bed and manage to doze off into sleep with the memory of when their bond flared to life for the first time in her mind’s eye. _________________________________________________________________

You took a deep breath in a an attempt to keep your nerves in check…the concert starts soon after all. But you couldn’t help it! This is your first tour with your new found family and friends, who happen to be Queen, and who were you kidding you’re a nervous wreck. You don’t want to embarrass them, especially not Roger who had been more of a father to you than your own had been. And abso-fucking-lutely not Brian.

If you were to have a best friend then he fits the mold. He’s more than understanding, kind and doesn’t mind listening to you ramble about your classes or help out when you’re taking a physics class. He jams with you on his legendary Red Special and gives you tips and tricks to improve your own playing. It’s an amazing friendship no matter what people said about him being older than you or vise versa.

Today proved to be more than just nerves about this being your first tour with Queen but there’s been a song stuck in your head for the past month that is driving you up a wall more often than not. You sat the dressing room you share with the Queens on your own as they did whatever it is rockstars do to before a show, allowing you to put a lyric to the tune. You hear the door open and a familiar poof of hair as Brian walks in a grin on his kind face.

“Hey Bri,” you say putting down the pencil.

“Hey yourself, you doing alright?” He asked taking a seat on the other side of the couch you were sitting on.

You nod with a grin of your own before you give the half written song an unsure look and with a deep breath then asking, “Can you read over this for me?”

Brian shifted closer to you teasingly saying, “And what do we have here hmm?”

As he read the lyrics, you plucked the chords of your guitar here and there playing the basic tune of the song.

Brian looked up at you a bright grin on his face after reading.

“So...what do you think?” You asked curiously.

He hummed thoughtfully and with a small smirk said, “I think I need to listen to the music with the lyric to decide.”

You returned his grin and began to play...

“Woke up sweating from a dream With a different kind of feeling All day long my heart was beating Searching for the meaning Hazel eyes I was so color-blind We were just wasting time For my whole life We never crossed the line Only friends in my mind But now I realize It was always you Can't believe I could not see it all this time, all this time It was always you Now I know why my heart wasn't satisfied, satisfied It was always you, you No more guessing who Looking back now I know it was always you, always you”

You sang the first verse happy and proud at how well the music and lyrics go together. You nearly outwardly gasp when Brian picks up where the second verse starts.

Your world shifted at that moment. Your mark warmed and darkened as your voices mingled and fit… like puzzle pieces you and Bri fit together perfectly. The both of you sang on until the end of the lyrics.

He looked, dare you say it, proud. He looked at you with a bright smile on his face and said, “Quite the song my dear, I certainly can’t wait for you to finish it.”

You nodded forcing a bright smile as you pushed down the urge and itch to reach for his hand. The feeling is excruciating but necessary…

“Five minutes to show time (Y/N),” he said as he stood and made his way out of the room.

“Ok, tell Rog I’ll be there soon yeah?” You say as you put the paper away in your guitar case.

He nods and leaves you alone again.

You feel yourself sag as he leaves, as if he’s taking a part of you with him and in a way he is. You take your time making your way to the main stage. Taking this time to come to terms with the fact that he cannot for any reason know what he means to you and you to him. You hummed your song committing to memory the sound of his voice as he sang along with you. You grinned sadly to yourself as you resigned yourself to living a half life...a life where you and Bri are the other’s marks and he will never know... _________________________________________________________________

Roger slips out of the bed tucking the blanket around you snuggly before leaving the room and letting you rest.

Out in the living room, Roger looked on at the state his closest and oldest friend is in and sighed knowing the feeling of having a young love and feelings that came with it. He’d been in the emotional position of feeling too old to be with the unbelievable woman’s mark and having those feelings of inadequacy due to the age gap between them. As angry as he was with Brian, Roger couldn’t blame the man for wanting the very best under the sun for his mark.

He nodded to Rufus who had stood up when he spotted his da coming out of the room.

Rufus went to go into your room but was stopped by Rog who said, “Let her rest a bit for now.”

He pulled his boy into the farthest room leaving a very clearly distraught Bri sitting on the couch.

“When the time comes, Brian will start going haywire emotionally. I mean...do you remember how I got when Sarina and I met?” Roger asked.

Rufus nodded as the realization of what Roger is telling him dawned. When his da and stepmother met, their bond was instantaneous. Not like yours or Bri’s but near on faster than the speed of light. He remembered how it had taken most if not all the family to sit Roger down and convince him to at least have lunch with her at all! The man looked about ready to jump off a cliff instead of doing it. And it took Sarina even longer to break through the old drummer’s shell before she could convince him that she wanted him fully bond or no bond age gap be damned.

They have all known you for close to five years now, and throughout that time they have learned that you love person based on their personality not based on their age. Age does play a factor but not a major one unless it did bring cause for concern.

“Will it be him going in then?” Rufus asked seriously.

“I think it might be for the best,” Roger said thoughtfully, “Their bond, being newly forged, will be flaring violently now due to their current emotional state…it’s going to be a long night.”

The Taylor men stood in silence for a moment before Rufus asked, “Should we just be as supportive as we can?”

Roger nodded running and hand over his face as he sighed exhaustedly before going for his phone.

Rufus left the room at the sound of him talking to Sarina. His da needs some time with his mark right now.

Entering the living room again Rufus was met with an empty sofa and the door to your room ajar. _________________________________________________________________

If you wanna be tagged shoot me an ask!!! Thanks for reading don’t forget to like and reblog!!!! Feedback is always appreciated!! _____________________________________________

Tag list: @pansexualqueendarling, @queenattheopera, @brianandthemays, @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever, @ramibaby, @captain–americanna, @awkwardangelshezza, @avengerraven1023, @danamaleksworld, @pastywhiteperson, @readinghorn, @i-was-born-like-this, @redspecialstardust, @reedusteinrambles, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @readinghorn, @subbysharkbabe, @capan-devereaux, @bowieandqueen11, @bellamy1998, @reedusteinrambles

#brian may #roger taylor #rufus taylor #sarina taylor #roger taylor x sarina taylor #brian may x reader #present day brian may x reader #2019!brian may #2019!roger taylor #present day brian may #too much love can kill you #soulmate fic #queen fic

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gcnnerpaxton · 4 years

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AXEL AURIANT / CISMALE — don’t look now, but is that gunner paxton i see? the 21 year old film student is in their junior year and he is a rochester alum. i hear they can be loyal, levelheaded, cowardly and anxious, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he will make a name for themselves living in garcia row. ( bri. 22. est. she/they. )

pinterest can be found HERE

so gunner is from wyoming which is jst . frankly a bit of a nightmare, what even is in wyoming? nothing but misery

he was the middle child to rly eccentric and weird parents which is where he kinda gets a bit of his personality from

always was a mama’s boy, as soon as his younger brother wyatt was born he became her sunshine but gunner and his mom still had a really solid relationship, whereas the relationship he had with his dad was super strained………. he was just never rly the sporty dude that his dad wanted in a child and thought gunner was sort of weird to be frank so they jst . avoided each other if anything until wyatt went missing n their relationship got pretty………… rough tbh gunner jst tried to make sure his dad didn’t have a reason to b mad at him

elias is his older brother!! played by neen winks at her

elias and gunner always had a bit of a weird relationship too, they’re pretty different yet so alike at the same time?? who knows how that works

they were never that close until the night wyatt went missing ))): their parents were away on a vacation they won lawl and said the boys should just stay home for the weekend but they were teen boys of course they didn’t listen and all parted ways for a night, but only 2 of the paxton boys returned

ever since then elias and gunner became much closer since the relationship with their parents was just never the same, they rly only had each other after that and it was evident when elias left wyoming and gunner soon followed

after wyatt’s disappearance tho gunner sort of lost himself, sophomore to senior year of high school was like the worst time of his life since elias left for lockwood and reoccurring nightmares had gunner slowly losing it, he was diagnosed with major depressive disorder which he should be taking some pretty hefty meds for but he never remembers to refill his prescription n is just a mess w it in general

doesn’t really know how to be social, he never had many friends to begin with and then when wyatt went missing rumours of the family having something to do with the youngest paxton’s disappearance started to spread and that rly turned gunner into a pariah that still sorta lasts to this day, he’s awkward bt like he means well

film major!! he’d always been rly into film and loves movies and spent a lot of his time analyzing them and making his own short films whenever he started to feel really lonely or depressive episodes started to get bad, just his own sort of therapy

always filming at parties, plans on making a film about them just for fun jst basically thinks they’re super entertaining

has a lot of weird habits?? knows almost every card trick by heart, taught himself how to yodel n i wish i was kidding, can solve a rubix cube in a few seconds, also knows a lot of weird facts, just a bit of a weirdo

he’s slowly starting to realize he’s not straight but he’s too scared to admit it, they grew up in a fairly religious macho man household so anything gay was frowned upon n thts sort of engraved into his mind

wanted plots, ppl who are in his major/wld have had classes with him, someone who can tell he’s awkward and feels bad for him and/or wanna break him out of his shell, a muse of sorts for his films, unrequited crushes, exes?? he wldnt have many bt he’d have some, i think it’d b rly funny if he had awkward funny sexual encounters w ppl too, he also does need some friends, bt basically anything u want!!!

#huntingtonintro #continues sweeping #depression tw #abuse tw #kidnapping tw #missing child tw #anxiety tw #internalized homophobia tw #homophobia tw #religion cw

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gotboredwrote · 5 years

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The Walking Stick // BHM

Pairing: Brian May x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.5K Style: One-Shot Warnings: Fluff, childhood trauma in relation to bugs (entomophobia) Summary: Brian, being the animal-lover he is, starts to develop feelings for a new roadie who happens to have a severe phobia of one of the creatures he loves. He wants to help her when nothing else could. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: A small little thing that came to me out of nowhere, so this is just kind of… eh. Decided not to even edit this either. Sorry lol.

Masterlist

Some people called it irrational. Some people laughed at you when you freaked out. Very few people were okay with a panic attack if it happened. But it was not like you could control it. The fear was rooted deep within an experience from your childhood, so there was not much you could do about it.

In truth, for many years, any time something would happen, you tried to figure out what it was that could calm you down and you were never successful. Your parents always tried to help you, but any time they interfered, somehow it got worse. You were always completely on your own. Despite their attempts, your parents did offer one piece of advice you could see the advantage of taking, which was make sure to get a job where you would not be exposed to said fear. So, what did you do?

Take a job where all you would do is travel and be introduced to new species of bugs each and every day.

You had been interning at Chelsea College and you saw a job opportunity posted on one of the bulletin boards. Something related to being a roadie for a band called Queen. It paid well, and you desperately needed the money. Except you noticed that all the pull tabs had already been pulled, so you were not sure how you would go about applying. You noticed a phone number on the flyer, so you just decided to write it down and call it.

“Chelsea College music hall.”

“Oh, um hi. My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I was calling in reference to a… a flyer I saw on—”

“Queen?”

“Y-yes. Could you put me in contact with them?”

“They’re here now, walk over and I’ll send you back.”

“Oh, okay, um… thank y—” And you heard the phone hit the receiver.

You walked over to the building, reintroducing yourself to the, frankly, rude receptionist for the building. He directed you to the room you needed to go to, and once you were in front of the door, you quietly knocked and waited. What exactly were you going to say? You knew this position had already been filled, if the pull tabs being missed was anything to go by. After about 30 seconds, you heard some heavy footsteps toward the door, probably by someone in boots, and then it swung open, revealing a shorter blonde, cigarette dripping from his lips.

“Well, hello. What do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was um, looking to see if the position you guys were offering was still available. The assistant one?”

“Well, I won’t speak for the band, but you could be my personal assistant—”

“Roger, let the poor girl in here!” You heard a more posh and deep voice from behind the blonde who filled the doorway. The blonde huffed out some smoke and rolled his eyes, but complied with the voice’s request.

When you could finally look into the room, you noticed a handful of women scattered around the room, a few older men, and then the three other men you needed to pay attention to. You were hoping to put the voice to a face, but someone else, clearly a different voice spoke up first. Glitzy.

“What do we owe the pleasure, darling?”

“Well, I was uh, interested in the position you have posted on that one bulletin board. But, I saw that all the little tabs are gone, so…”

“Nonsense dear! Many of those tabs were pulled by the blue-eyed floozies you see littered around this room.” You looked at him nervously, amazed at his boldness saying that with the girls within earshot. “Don’t worry about them, trust me. They’re more consumed with the other boys physically than anything we say them.”

You tried to smile at him lightly, still a little bit in shock, and looked around the room, landing on one of the tall men in the room, one with a mound of poofy, dark brown curls atop his head who happened to be staring at you with wide eyes and parted lips. As soon as you locked onto his eyes, you smiled, and he returned it, but quickly looked at his current situation and a frown replaced it. Three of those blue-eyed floozies the one man mentioned were laying around him, and he clearly did not want you to think that was the kind of guy he was, so he sat up, much to the girls’ dismay. He placed a hand into his curled and scratched lightly, and you practically could not tear your eyes away from him. It felt straight out of a meet-cute, but you were getting way ahead of yourself. The man from before tore. You from your thoughts.

“Oh, how rude of me! I’ve never introduced myself or the lads in the band. I’m Freddie, the blonde who answered the door was Roger, John is over there with his beau Veronica, and the tall man you’ve been ogling is Brian.”

You were slightly taken aback by his comment, ever forward, and Brian clearly heard him too because his face went red as well.

“What might we call you, dear?”

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, the job is yours if you’d like it.”

“What? I-I didn’t even tell you about me or anything.”

“Doesn’t matter. My personal goal is to break you out of this shell you have, and giving you this job is the best way to do it.”

Freddie gave you a wide smile before returning to nursing the drink he had in his hand, and you watched each of the boys in their element – Roger with the girls, John reading a book with Veronica wrapped under his arm, and Brian pushing the girls away because there was only one he was interested in.

Freddie had told you that they were leaving in four days, so you had that long to prepare for tour life. Whatever the hell that meant. You were a shy and reserved book worm, the idea of hanging with rock stars was not something you really expected to happen in your life, but here you were. Somehow, by pure luck, even though Freddie will tell you it was your personality, you got this gig.

You had an apartment right near the campus, hence why you were at the school in the first place for an event. You were folding a load of laundry you specifically did for the tour when you heard the buzzer for your door, signaling someone wanted to see you. Not expecting anyone, you were hesitant at first to let the person know you were home. You heard the buzz again, and decided it could not hurt, since you did not have to let them in.

“Can I help you?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Oh, whew, good, I found the right flat. Uh, it’s Brian. Could I come up?”

The voice. You finally heard it again. The one who stopped Roger from his pursuit of you. A deep voice, intelligent. You realized in that moment you had not actually spoken to John or Brian the other day when Freddie gave you the job. You walked away before ever officially meeting them.

“Y/N? You there? I still can’t open the door.”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah one second.”

You buzzed Brian through the door and unlocked your door so you could walk back into your bedroom to continue folding your clothes. You waited about 4 minutes and then you heard the knock on the door. You called out to him telling him he could just come in, and you heard the door open. If a door could sound reluctant, yours did in that moment. You called out from your bedroom, telling him where you were, and he slowly made his way through your apartment. Taking in your style as he went through. Very much similar to his, and he made it a point to commit the poster you had of the planets and their descriptions to memory. Made him happy to see that you shared an interest of his.

He made his way back to your bedroom and saw you hovered over the side of your bed, clothes all neatly stacked in piles that clearly had some type of order.

“Hi, Brian!” Your voice came out a little bit less strong than you would have liked, almost like his presence knocked the wind out of you. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, I wanted to offer my assistance.”

“With what?”

“That.” He gestured to all the clothes littering your double bed.

“My laundry?”

Brian suppressed a laugh but a toothy smile escaped anyway. “No, silly, your packing. I understand you’ve never done anything like this before? It isn’t like vacation, you can’t just pack a handful of clothes.”

“I know that, but I’m honestly not sure where to draw the line.”

“Did you want the assistance I was offering, love?”

“That would… actually be marvelous.”

Brian was instantly at your side, helping you fold some of the clothes from your basket. He was careful not to select any of your undergarments, but he accidentally grabbed a pair of your underwear at one point, and not by the elastic or the bum, and he immediately went beet red and apologized profusely. You just laughed and nudged him on the shoulder. You did not mind, it was honestly sweet to see him get so worked up and not really aroused by it like most men would. You did not even want to imagine how Roger would have handled that.

“Brian?”

“Yes?”

“How exactly did you find my flat?”

Instantly the color drained from his face because he was afraid you were going to hate him for seeking it out.

“Bri, I’m not angry with you. Quite the contrary. I am not the type to ask for help, so you showing up was actually a blessing. You’re like, an angel to me.”

“Well, essentially…” Brian started talking about the process of finding your apartment, which was much more complicated than he initially planned for it to be. Hence why he did not come the day before. By the time he found out the apartment and where it was, it was late and he did not want to disturb you. He continued talking but noticed that your side of the laundry pile had not gotten smaller while he was talking.

“Y/N? You okay?”

When he looked over at you, your face was as white as a sheet and your eyes were laser focused onto something. Your body was stiffer than a piece of wood. Clearly, you were in a state of shock. Brian followed your gaze and saw what you were looking at – a moth about the size of a polaroid picture was on the wall opposite to where the two of you were standing. Brian looked back at you, calmly speaking to you.

“Want me to take it outside, love?”

All you did was nod stiffly, not moving any other muscles. Brian nodded and carefully walked over to the wall, capturing the moth in his larger hands, careful not to crush it. He walked over to the small balcony you had off of your bedroom and released it off the edge. When he walked back in, he expected you to be back to normal, but he was met with you almost having a panic attack. At first, he was not sure what to do, but he decided on pulling you into a tight embrace, rubbing circles into your back in an effort to calm your breathing.

It worked.

Nothing had ever worked before. Not a single thing. And then here you were, standing in your apartment in the arms of a man you hardly knew, and he was able to calm you down. When you felt your breath return to normal, you pulled back to look at him. And you just stared at him, wide eyed.

“Alright, love?”

“Y-yeah. I, um…”

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

“You deserve to know. After that.”

Brian helped you sit down onto your bed, one arm moving to rest on your knee, the other still rubbing your back. And you began to explain what happened just now.

[Flashback Start]

“M-m-mommy…”

It was disgusting. The sight of it all being played out in your head.

“Mommy?”

It had to be thousands of them.

“MOMMY!”

Your childhood home had a small pond and frogs liked to live in it. You always liked to watch them, and that day was no different. You went outside, small snack in hand, and watched as one of the frogs lay dead on the stones on the edge of the pool. Its corpse being devoured by thousands of different kinds of bugs. Flies, spiders, roaches, grasshoppers, moths. Crawling and buzzing. It was deafening, louder than nighttime cicadas. It made you want to vomit. The dark side of the circle of life.

Bugs used to not faze you one bit. Now, with the knowledge that they could be as vicious of predators as a lion or a tiger made you absolutely petrified of them, afraid if you stop moving in front of them, they are going to think you were dead, just like the frog. And eat you.

[Flashback End]

“So… bugs and you don’t get along, huh?”

You shook your head.

“And nothing anyone has ever done has been able to help your through the panic attacks?”

Another shake.

“Except for me.”

Now a nod.

“Well.” Brian thought carefully about his next choice of words. “Guess it’s a good thing you’ve got me on this little adventure, right?”

Finally, you looked up at him, and you smiled. He had grown fond of that smile, and never wanted to see it go away. You could say the same about his, little fangs and all. He was still rubbing circles on your back. You felt so relaxed in his presence.

With a small peck on the cheek, mean to be completely harmless, he spoke again. “Let’s continue packing, love.”

The tour went pretty smoothly. It was a relatively local tour, so the travel was not all that bad. You were on a bus separate from the boys, but Brian always made it a point to travel with you, and only leave when it was time to sleep. He only left when you were at the last rest stop before bedtime, and then he’d switch busses. He always was on watch for bugs so you did not have a panic attack in public. There were a few times a spider or something would end up on the tour bus, prompting you to enter a state of panic. But, Brian was always there to remove it. He never killed the bugs – always trapped them and let them go. He was nice to every living thing he met, no mattered the circumstances. It was enchanting. Everything about him.

One day, on tour, the boys had some time off and Freddie had suggested they walk the little hiking trail that happened to be near the venue. When Freddie was the one who suggested it, you all kind of scoffed at him, but he seemed determined. The new guy he was talking with seemed to be into it, so you blamed it on that. Before everyone had started gathering what they needed, Brian made his way onto your bus and saw that you had packed a backpack, ready to go, and he got anxious.

“You’re actually coming with us?”

“Of course! I was hoping I could walk with you. If… that’s alright, obviously.”

“I would adore spending all my free time with you,” Brian winced at himself internally at the slight confession. He was hoping to tell you how he had started feeling about you in a more intimate way, maybe under the stars, but the cat might have been out of the bag at this point. Why could this cat have not been like Delilah? That cat loved to play in plastic bags. “But, you do understand that there’s going to be a lot of bugs out here, and I can’t release them into the air if they’re already there.” “I know, and I appreciate your concern, but I think if you just let me stick by your side, I’ll be okay.”

“But I don’t want you getting embarrassed—”

“Bri.”

He sighed at your determination, another thing he had come to really like about you. “If you insist, love. Ready to go, then?” He held out his hand for you to take, a bold move considering what he was trying to keep private. Yet you took it with strength, almost as if you were egging him on to admit what he was feeling. The two of you walked from your bus hand in hand and made your way to the back of the trail. Everyone else had already started making their way.

You and Brian remained close together the whole time, hands still interlocked. Brian was glad you could not hear how hard his heart was beating from the touch, and he was also glad you could not hear the small shattering he felt when you drew your hand away. But, he noticed it was not because of him, it was because you wanted to take some pictures with the camera you packed. Yet another thing for Brian to like about you – you both liked photography. He was beginning to wonder where you had been his whole life.

Then he stopped hearing the shutter of your camera. He had walked to the other side of the relatively wide trail, opposite you, to look at a really beautiful bird. But the second he stopped hearing your camera he was turned around and walking in your direction. You had been kneeled down to take a picture of the foliage, but now the camera was dangling between your legs and you looked stiff again.

Instantly his arms were around your neck and shoulders, his head buried into your neck. He thought you saw a big bug and were starting to panic and he wanted to nip the panic attack in the bud. He squeezed tightly to make sure you knew he was there and that you were safe.

Now you could heel how hard his heart was beating.

Yours was beating the same amount, but not because of a bug.

“Bri?”

“You’re okay, it’s not going to hurt you love.”

“Bri—”

“I’ll move it far away from here, it’s not going to get you.”

“Brian! I can’t breathe.”

“I’m here, please try to breathe, love.”

“No, you’re squeezing really tight.”

Brian yanked his arms away to look at your face, which had no tears. All your color was there. You even had a smile on your face. You looked up at him, and he had a look of shock on his face. You started to laugh really hard, and he almost started laughing himself – he was just too confused to.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek to attempt to break him from his trance before you spoke again.

“There’s just a walking stick here.” You stopped speaking to gaze at the interesting bug. “For once… I’m okay. I think it’s because this little guy reminds me of you. Physically, he’s long and lanky—” “Hey!” “But moves gracefully and independently. It’s also really intelligent compared to other bugs, it seems. And he’s really friendly. I even held out my hand and his little antenna came up to inspect me. But, he reminds me of you through and through, somehow. I think that’s why he doesn’t scare me.”

You were still looking at the bug while Brian was gawking at you. In a very weird but extremely endearing way, he could feel himself falling deeper into his feelings for you after that comment. You looked so at ease, and he knew he had a chance. He reached up to lightly grab your chin so he could pull your forehead to lean against his. The two of you just stared into each other’s eyes, almost in a trance.

“Y/N… you’re such an enigma, but I’m determined to figure you out.”

“I’d be glad to let you try, Bri.”

Brian started to lean closer to you, like he was going to kiss you, when Roger’s voice ruined the moment.

“Would you two c’mon? Freddie is currently trying to climb out of a creek and it’s pretty funny.”

You and Brian just looked at him, chuckling at his excitement. Then you looked back at each other. Brian started to stand up to keep going on the trail, but you grabbed his face to keep him at your level.

“Thank you, Brian.”

Instantly he pressed his lips to yours for a quick but searing kiss. When he broke away, he saw you had the shocked look he had earlier.

“I think I just cracked the first code of the Y/N enigma, huh?”

Permanent Taglist: @bensrhapsody @chlobo6 @gardnerlangway @xtrashmammalstefx @bohemiandeakyy

Brian May Taglist: @ziggymay

// If you want to be added to either taglist mentioned above, or the one for another character I’ve written for, send me an ask here! //

#brian may x reader #brian may imagine #brian may #queen #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #entomophobia #fear of bugs #walking stick #stick bug #roger taylor #freddie mercury #john deacon

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kissmekissme-calum · 5 years

Text

Finally Free - Brian May x Reader

Not requested, but i will try to write up requests if they spark something in my head!! Please send in requests!

Word Count : 2544 (i just couldn’t help myself with this one, first time writing for Brian)

Warnings : fluff, slight angst, maybe a bit of depression/feeling alone

“There’s only a handful of people in this world that I actually like. You may or may not be one of them.” You grumbled, hiding the blushing smile that so badly wanted to come out, keeping your eyes on the road ahead of you, ignoring Brian’s triumphant look from the driver’s seat. “But don’t you dare say anything to anyone.”

Brian let out a short laugh. “Oh, of course not. Wouldn’t want people to think that (YN) (YLN) could possibly let herself love someone, we must continue to think of her as the lone girl who hates everyone who isn’t herself.” You nodded to his words, there was no point arguing when every word he spoke was the truth.

A few moments of silences passed as Brian continued driving, the destination still unknown to you, finally he spoke. “You know you don’t have to try so hard with me, right?”

“Huh?” that broke your attention away from the passing scenery. “Try so hard? What do you mean?”

His voice was calm and steady when he spoke again. “You can just be yourself. You’re trying so hard to keep up that hardened shell, not letting anyone in, but you don’t have to do that with me. I won’t judge you. I promise you that.”

“A lot of people have promised that.” Was your only reply, earning a loud sigh from Brian, who pulled off to the side of the road, turning in his seat to have better focus on you, letting you know he meant the words he had said and was about to say.

“I’m not like other people, (YN). As hard as you tried, you got me curious about you, curious enough that you made me talk to you, made me like you and now I’m in the process of falling for you, all whether you like it or not. I’ve seen the side of you that you don’t want others to see. You’re an amazing girl, I just want you to be able to see that.”

Brian’s words managed to make tears fall down your cheeks, you didn’t attempt to swipe them away, Brian was already on top of that.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, I only said what I thought would hopefully make you smile and realize how I truly feel about you. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t upset me, Bri. It’s just that, well,” you closed your eyes, letting out a long drawn out breath, “It’s just that I’ve never had anyone say such nice things to me and mean it. Everyone who has said anything remotely close to that before, always managed to hurt me in the end, that’s why I have a hard time letting people in, letting them see me as I truly am, me,” you put your hand over Brian’s as he dried another tear, “I’m tired of getting hurt is all.”

With your confession, Brian, leant in closer, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss that you reciprocated without a second thought. You lost yourself in the kiss, nothing but truth and kindness resided within it. Pulling away to catch your breath, the both of you had smiles of bliss on your faces. “That was nice.”

You nodded, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “It was, thank you Bri. Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

“I won’t.” He promised, giving you another quick kiss before pulling back onto the road, now more excited for the weekend getaway you had agreed to than he was before.

Finally, you had arrived at a small little cabin by the lake. Brian helped you out of the car and into the cabin, answering your unspoken questions as you walked inside. “Belongs to my parents. When I told them that I wanted to take you somewhere special, they suggested coming here. Said it did good for them and their relationship, thought it could do something for us.” He spoke so cheerily, that you shared the same cheery smile he did, it was infectious.

“I love it, and I think I love you Brian.”

His smile faltered only for a split second, before breaking out into one even bigger. “Do you mean that?”

A simple nod. “Yeah, there’s just something about you. I think it’s the hair, has to be the hair.” You joked as he tripped over one of the bags you’d brought and held your waist in his hands. As he got closer, you put a hand to his hair and took a deep breath. “Yep, it’s definitely the hair.”

The two of you began laughing like idiots, holding each other close, it was something you could get used to, you would get used to it. With Brian May in your life, there was no other viable option.

However, you still had moments where your walls were up and you holed in on yourself once again.

Sneaking away from Brian, leaving him in bed, you quietly stepped into the bathroom, pushing the door behind you, heading for the tub. You turned the water on, shed your clothes, and stepped in, letting the water soak into your skin.

Time had passed when the door was pushed open. Having woken up without you next to him, Brian was curious and the light coming from the slightly open door of the bathroom, caught his eye. He quietly got out of bed and went to the door, peering in and what he saw, had him pushing the door open, you didn’t even notice it open. He had to get you out of the cold room.

“You’re doing it again.” Brian’s voice had you whipping your head towards the door he leaned against, you weren’t expecting a visitor, you really weren’t expecting to still be in the shower either. As he’d promised you before, he wasn’t judging you, he only worried for you, wanted to help you if you’d only let him. You were trying, it wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do, even when you found someone you had fallen in love with, it was all a learning experience for you still. His legs carried him into the bathroom, next to the tub, he knelt down and turned the water off before stroking your chin which had begun shivering from the water that had grown cold long ago. “Love,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke louder it would break you and you’d shatter in front of him.

“S-s-sor-rr-yy.” You spoke through shivers, watching as he grabbed the towel you had placed onto the counter and wrapped it around your frame before lifting you out of the tub and towards the bedroom.

“How long were you in there?” he carefully asked, placing you on the edge of the bed as he searched for some nice warm clothes to put you in.

You shook your head. You honestly had no idea how long you had been in there for, you just remember going in to take a warm shower and it had ended with you sitting on the shower floor, letting the water rain over you, starting warm and ending like ice.

Brian’s eyes were full of concern as he found a nice sweater of his and some sweatpants to put you in. As he dressed you, you stared into his eyes, he was so concentrated on the task at hand, it was mesmerizing. “I’m not used to people taking care of me and looking out for me. It’s nice.” You felt warm in Brian’s clothes, felt warm under his touch. “Thank you.”

His hands were on your knees when he smiled at you. “I will always take care of you, (YN), I don’t want you to think that I never will. You have me now, and if everything goes as I believe it will, you’ll always have me.”

Warmth flooded your face at his words, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him close to you, your lips practically touching. “And I’ll always want you Brian May.”

A few hours later, you were both laying under the covers, your head tucked under his chin. Brian was sound asleep, his snores blowing over your head. You, on the other hand, were still awake. Your hand pressed against his chest, letting his heartbeat flow through your hand, straight to your heart. It made you happy, you smiled against his chest.

This was how it felt to truly be loved by somebody, feel at home with somebody. Brian managed to erase every fear you’d ever had about being in a relationship with him. He always managed to get you to break out into a fit of smiles and laughter, always managed to make you feel safe and loved. No one else had ever managed to do that for you. He was truly one of a kind, you were going to marry him someday.

And you did.

Just a simple wedding with his bandmates in attendance.

John was the most reserved out of the group so you’d asked him to marry you, he was more than honored to do that for you as he’d seen just how much happier you’d made Brian and he’d seen how amazing of a person you truly were as well. It made his heart swell as he saw the two of you, reciting your vows to the other, eyes never leaving the others.

Freddie and Roger stood on either side of you guys, you didn’t have any other close friends, so they’d filled in when you needed someone to stand next to you at the alter as you married your best friend.

You wore a simple dress you’d found at a thrift store, it may have been someone else’s before, but you made it into the first thing you would keep for a lifetime, besides Brian of course.

Brian wore a nice dress shirt with some nice slacks, courtesy of Freddie insisting on choosing Brian’s wedding day outfit. And while it may not have been his wedding day, it was still best to not argue with Freddie about fashion.

Once Roger and Freddie handed you and Brian your rings, you slipped them onto the others’ finger while John recited his lines. The two of you blushed at the other as John spoke, never before had you two been happier than you were right then. Two people in love, preparing to spend a lifetime together, nothing would change that.

Even a couple years later, in your new home, you were still in love. You had a wide open space, just begging to be danced in. Brian had constantly reminded you, each time that you made him dance in the space, just how much things had changed with you since he’d first met you. “When we first met, if I had asked you to dance with me, you would’ve slapped me across the face.” He’d joke, but he was absolutely right, you weren’t a dancer then, but, well, Brian had broken you free, you were finally able to live the life you’d always wanted to.

You were free and making up for all the lost chances you’d had while growing up.

“Dance with me! C’mon, it’ll be fun!” you urged Brian who was nose deep in the newest scientific magazine that had arrived at your door, his eyes refusing to be torn away from the pages. You understood he would always have a passion for science, but it sometimes bothered you when he ignored you for it, so you thought up an idea, one that he couldn’t possibly refuse.

Skipping over to the record player, you searched through the many records the two of you had collected over the time you’d been together until the perfect one caught your attention. Slipping it out of its case, you placed it on the player and waited for the crackling sounds to ease into the gentle music of Roberta Flack’s gorgeous voice. Once it did, Brian slowly raised his head, eyeing you with a knowing grin.

“Gimme your hand.” Smiling back at him, you held out your hand, waiting for his to hold onto yours and join you in the dance that he had begged you to do with him shortly after you met as he had eased you out of your hard shelled exterior, revealing the soft side you had carried underneath it. He slowly put the magazine to the side, joining his hand with yours, twirling you in a circle.

“Now, was that so hard?” you ask as he twirled you back around so he could place a hand at your waist, the other still holding onto your hand, sending your feet into small circles, eyes staying locked on his.

“You broke me down, love.” He always had a soft spot for dancing with you even though he was not the best dancer himself, but to see the smile on your face, he’d dance a million years. Brian leaned down to kiss the top of your head, then your cheeks, and your hand before raising his head, keeping his lips a good distance from your own.

Standing on your tip toes didn’t help much, he only laughed, continuing to sway with you as song after song floated in the air around you. Stepping lightly onto him, you tried again before sighing in defeat, smiling up at him. “I may be short, but you could at least try to make kissing you easier!” you giggled as you stood on Brian’s feet, swaying back and forth in the cramped room, music softly playing in the background, your arms as far as they’d go around his neck.

“My apologies.” He laughed and leaned down until your noses were touching. “Is this better?”

“Almost.” A blush rose to your cheeks, even after all this time with him, he could still have that effect on you and it would always amaze you how he could do that, surely it was rare for a man to be so perfect as he was. You tilted your head slightly until your lips brushed against his, a satisfied smile on your face. “Now it’s perfect.”

“Thanks for marrying me.” His lips were pressed tightly to yours. “Thanks for letting me show you how you deserve to be loved, for letting me love you, show you off. Be your one and only.”

“My always and forever.” You spoke, jumping up, his hands under your bottom, holding you close to him. The swaying slowly stopped just as the music had a moment before. Your hands found his hair, your fingers tangling up in the curls you so adored on him. “Thank you for breaking me out of my shell, for setting me free.”

“Of course, my love, and I’d gladly do it again if I needed to.”

“Never leave me.”

“Oh baby,” he led you to the bedroom and laid you gently onto the bed, hovering over you, his hair tickling your face, you giggled as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I could never leave you, ever. I told you I’d always be there for you. That’s a promise. I could never lie to you, I just couldn’t.”

“Good,” you reply, gently cupping his chin in your hand, “cause I’m pregnant.”

#brian may imagines #brian may x reader #queen imagines #queen x reader #imagines #imagine #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagines #gwil!brian #john deacon imagines #john deacon x reader #roger taylor imagines #roger taylor x reader #freddie mercury x reader #freddie mercury imagines #radiorogertaylorgaga

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disabled-queen-hc-blog · 5 years

Note

I just watched the first episode of the hedgehog documentary at the rescue centre Brian helped set up, so I'm really in the mood for some hcs about autistic Bri with his wildlife if you're up for it! 💕

Brian’s special interest has been the wildlife in England since he was a young boy. He used to go into the forest and just watch. If he stayed still enough, all the animals would go about their business, unbothered by his presence. He’s able to learn a lot by doing this.

It’s a habit he keeps to this day. He’ll tell anyone what an honor it is to watch a mother bird feed her chicks and a fox scamper by in search of food.

As he gets older though, he takes the things he learned into a bigger and more professional setting. He’s fiercely passionate about the protection of wildlife and because it’s his SpIn, he knows a lot. He is always so proud when he can shut down a politician/opposition with ease. He knows all there is to know about hedgehogs and badgers and foxes! Nobody can sucessfully go against him. He’s so smug about it.

But ultimately, he’s happy that he can be a voice for the voiceless. He knows what it’s like to be misunderstood, underestimated and walked over. It’s why he sympathizes with these creatures so much. He relates to their struggle which is why he stands for them. Humans are hard to understand and befriend, but animals aren’t. And he’d do anything to protect the entities that helped him break out of his shell and never judged him for his quirks.

#brian #autistic!brian #fandom-star

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adrenaline-roulette · 5 years

Text

A PERMenant Deal (Deaky x Reader)

A/N: This was created for @bensroger and the 3k fic challenge. My prompt was hella fluffy, and I took some creative liberties with it! Hopefully you all like it, pease excuse the ever so slightly strange timeline, I hope it worked in the end! If you liked this, I would love it if you would check out my other Queen/ Borhap fics on AO3, my name is Adrenaline_Roulette Peace and Love y’all!

The smell of chemicals filled John’s nose as he sat in a salon chair, a black smock draped over his shoulders and fastened securely at his neck. There was a brunette hair dresser stood behind him, attacking his hair with said chemicals, and Roger was sitting in the chair beside him, flipping through a cheap gossip magazine, occasionally grunting as he read an article. “It says here, that Brian is the most marriable…. And that I’m the most likely to die alone?!” Roger screeches, causing John to smirk. A hard tug at his hair quickly replaces the look with a frown though, as he curses the hairdresser under his breath.

“Why do you insist on reading articles about yourself? You know it’s all rubbish, right?” He sighs, watching Roger in the large mirror hanging before him. “What does it say about me? He asks, unable to keep his interest under wraps, these articles always made him laugh, because of their sheer stupidity.

Roger scans over the article quickly, before finding John’s name on the glossy paper, “Apparently you’re the most likely to have multiple girlfriends and never settle down.” He shrugs, wrinkling his nose at the words.

“Hm, well now that’s interesting. I’m sure (Y/N) and the kids would love to hear that.” John muses, as he watches his reflection, his hair being twisted up upon his scalp. “How do you think I should break the news that I have other women in my life? I could hire a skywriter?”

Roger scowls at him, placing the magazine down on his lap forcefully. “Deaky, I’m pretty sure that after you come home with a perm today, (Y/N) and your spawn won’t be at all surprised by anything that you say or do.”

John can’t help but nod in agreement, which causes the hairdresser to pull his hair harshly, to cease his movements. “She’s actually going to kill me when she sees this.” He sighs, drumming his long, calloused fingers against his jeans. Roger purses his lips as he mulls over his words, before nodding in agreement, and sign which doesn’t ease John’s nerves in the slightest.

“Excuse me Jane, your two o’clock is here.” Says a quiet voice of a blonde woman, who had suddenly appeared behind John’s stylist. She hums her acknowledgment, before turning towards the other woman.

“I’ll need you to finish Mr Deacon for me please, I don’t want to keep Mrs Gatten waiting.” The stylist, Jane, places her utensils down on her trolley, then looks back to John. “I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Lisa, she’ll get you all finished.” She smiles, before leaving for her next appointment.

Lisa sets up behind him, donning gloves to protect her skin from the chemicals that were required to perm John’s hair. She smiles happily at him, then turns her attention to Roger, biting her lip when he catches her eye, a blush flooding her cheeks rapidly. John rolls his eyes at the exchange, even married, Roger is still a flirt! “If you don’t mind me asking, why a perm? Out of all the styles you could’ve chosen, what made you pick this one?” Lisa asks gently, as she makes quick work of John’s hair.

“There was a bet.” John begins, before being interrupted by Roger.

“I would love to hear about the bet!” Lisa grins, focusing entirely on Roger, awaiting his explanation. He carefully folds the magazine, placing it down in the rack beside him, keeping the young woman in suspense.

**********************************************************************************

There was a deafening silence which had overtaken the usually bustling recording studio, which was shattered like glass when Brian coughed, causing everyone to be awoken from their trance like state. No one knew what to say, how could you possibly react to something like, like THAT? It was simple, John decided, you couldn’t. He would simply ignore the elephant in the room, that was the only thing for it.

Brian however, had other ideas entirely. “Freddie, you seem to have a caterpillar on your lip…” He chuckles, though even Brian can’t hide his surprise at the new look. It wasn’t objectionable per say, just highly unexpected.

“Well darlings, I figured it was time for a new look, and besides I find I look rather dashing this way.” Freddie grins, his pearly white teeth showing as a sharp contrast between the dark bush of his moustache.

“Right, just promise me this isn’t going to become the new look for the band alright? I mean, Brian’s got enough hair already, and I’m not entirely sure Roger can even grow facial hair.” John shrugs, dodging with expert timing as Roger throws one of his drum sticks at his head. Freddie laughs joyfully at the exchange, while Brian folds his arms across his chest, blowing a stray curl away from his eyes.

“I don’t have that much hair.” Brian mutters, causing Freddie to fall into fits of laughter, practically rolling on the floor.

“Bri, we could shave you and have your hair turned into costumes for the entire cast of cats!” John smirks, as he picks up Roger’s thrown drum stick, twirling it between his fingers, as Roger had shown him years before. There’s a moment where it looks as if Brian was about to argue, though he quickly thinks better of doing so and turns back to his guitar, plucking at the strings aimlessly.

Roger looks across at John, his eyes trained on the drumstick held in his right hand, glaring slightly. John lifts his eyebrow in challenge back at the blonde man, “You can have it back, if you apologize for throwing it.” He smirks.

“I don’t have anything to apologies for! You’re the one who insulted me!” Roger cries out dramatically. John looks away, and catches Freddie rolling his eyes at the child like response.

“Children, please. Deaky, please return Roger’s drumstick, I would hate for him to start playing to bongos on this new track.” Freddie sighs, strolling his way over to the drum kit where the two men stood.

Begrudgingly, John hands Roger back the drumstick, both refusing to make eye contact. This was a frequent occurrence, with both men being far too stubborn for their own good. “Excellent, and now that the band is properly equipped again, we can record!” Freddie claps excitedly, rather like a school teacher who wanted the classes attention.

Freddie was the last to record for the new track, the bass, drums and guitar all having been laid down the previous few days, all that was required now were Freddie and Roger’s vocals to complete the track. As Freddie sang his heart out, the others gathered in the sound booth, watching him through the window, grinning as he hit every note perfectly. “So, what do we think of the moustache?” John asks quietly, as the recording technicians work their magic.”

“I can’t lie, it’s starting to grow on me. I’m thinking that maybe I should grow a beard?” Roger chuckles, as Brian shoves his shoulder playfully, a wide grin spread across his lips.

“I suppose it isn’t one of his best looks, but he seems to love it…” Brian shrugs, as he lopes over to the well-worn couch at the back of the room, settling himself down on the green cushions.

John nods his agreement, turning his attention back to Freddie as the song comes to an end. “He always stands so close to the mic, I’m genuinely surprised he hasn’t eaten the thing yet.” Roger laughs deeply, gasping for breath just as Freddie enters the room, who casts a curious look at the gasping drummer.

“Roger darling, if you’re going to die, please do it quietly.” Freddie sighs, as he strides towards the sound desk, awaiting the playback to begin. One of the technicians starts the vocals, the booming voice of Mr Mercury pumping through the speakers. There’s an odd sound to the vocals however, a strange almost brushing noise sweeping across the mic. “What on earth is that?”

The band collectively turns their attention towards the technician. “I’m sorry Fred, but I think you were too close to the mic, and you kept brushing your moustache against it. We’re going to have to rerecord, this time with you a bit further away.”

Freddie looks shocked, and John is stuck between wanting to comfort his friend or laugh at his expense. Roger has already opted for the laugh option, while Brian seems to be facing the same decision as himself. John reaches a hand out, ready to place it upon Freddie’s shoulder, but just as he’s about to make contact, Freddie steps away, stomping back into the recording studio. “Well? Let’s bloody well do it darlings!” He calls.

John leans against the arm of the sofa where Brian had made himself comfortable, his long legs taking up the entire seat, leaving no room for anyone else. Roger doesn’t seem to find this an issue however, and promptly sits himself down atop Brian’s calves despite his protests. “Oh shut up will you Brian, I’m not that fucking heavy!” Roger grumbles, as he turns to John, taping him on the shoulder to get his attention. “So, about that moustache…”

“I’d be bloody surprised if it lasts a year at this rate! Especially if he has to keep rerecording everything because he can’t step back from the microphone!” John exclaims, gesturing wildly to the angry looking Freddie in the recording studio.

Roger’s eyes light up with glee, as he removes his ever-present sunglasses from his head, tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. “Wanna make a bet?”

John lifts an eyebrow down at the drummer, pursing his lips as he considers the offer, on the one hand, making bets with Roger could end in tears, though on the other hand, John felt he knew Freddie well enough to know the moustache wouldn’t be around for long. “You’re on. Winner gets to pick a new style for the loser.” He smirks, as their hands meet and shake twice. This was going to be good.

Roger grinned wickedly as their hands parted, Brian shaking his head softly at the look. “Deaky, you’re going to regret this I fear.” He sighed, as he opened the latest newspaper he could find, even that was a few weeks old though, flipping through the pages absent mindedly. John frowned slightly at Brian, he knew Freddie, this was just a phase, it wouldn’t last!

“I’d be bloody surprised if it lasts a year!” Was the phone call John had awoken to this morning, he was sure if he could see Roger, that he would be wearing a shit eating grin on the other end of the phone. He had been having a well needed sleep in, his arms wrapped securely around (Y/N)’s waist, her hair tickling his chin as she slept soundly in his embrace. Though now they were both wide awake, thanks to Roger’s phone call. Upon hearing the drummers voice on the line, John had promptly slammed the receiver down, cutting the conversation short, however he knew it wouldn’t be long before Roger either tried to call back, or better yet, showed up on John’s doorstep and forcefully dragged him out of the house.

A shrill cry from their young baby echoed through the house, causing both John and (Y/N) to grow more alert, as wakefulness overtook them. “Bloody Roger, I’ll kill him one day.” John hissed, as he rolled out of the duvet, shuffling his feet against the soft carpet, before pushing himself into a standing position. You rolled over onto your other side, watching as your husband stretched his arms above his head, exposing his midriff in the process.

“What did he want anyways? It’s unusual for someone as nocturnal as him to be conscious at this hour.” You laugh tiredly, sitting up against the headboard, pulling the sheet up to your chest to keep you warm. You recalled John mentioning something about being out with Roger today, though the details were fuzzy.

John turns back to look at you, a nervous smile tugging on his lips. “Just got some band stuff to do is all, he said he’d drive for a change. I guess he just wanted to see if I was awake yet?” He shrugged, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There was no real reason as to why he couldn’t tell you what he was doing, it was more the fact that he was too nervous to, you had always loved running your fingers through his hair, but with a perm, John feared those days may be over. “I’ll go and check on Joshua, see if it’s just the phone that woke him or something else.” John smiles, before leaving to go check on your young son.

You lack the energy to get out of bed and get moving for the day, however when your daughter Laura comes bouncing onto your bed, you find yourself eager to spend the day with her. “Come here you!” You laugh, as you wrap your arms around her torso, pulling her against your chest. She squeals as you do so, kicking her little legs as she flops against you.

“Can I help you make breakfast pretty please mommy?” Laura pleads, batting her long lashes up at you. You have no idea how she mastered that look, but you had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with her Uncle Roger.

You pretend to think over her request for a few moments, tapping your index finger to your chin. “Well, I suppose so.” You smile, as she launches herself off the bed, in a similar style to how she had arrived. Laura sings loudly as she skips out of your bedroom, and into the kitchen, knowing you wouldn’t be too far behind. Sliding out of bed, you wrap your nightgown around yourself, padding into the kitchen where your daughter was helping herself to a spoonful of peanut butter, she was definitely yours. You lift an eyebrow at her as you watch her clean off the spoon, carefully replacing the jar in the pantry, a cheeky grin on her round face. “We’ll pretend I didn’t see you do that, okay?”

Laura chuckles softly, following behind you as you move around the kitchen, collecting the necessary ingredients for pancakes. You would try and make them a little bit healthy, by adding on some fresh berries, though you knew both John and Laura would pick them off, opting for syrup instead. “Joshy!” Laura squeals, jumping up and down on the spot as John walks in carrying your son in his arms, using one hand to press his pacifier against his lips. The moment Joshua had been born, Laura had taken to him, spending as much time as humanly possible by his side. It was a lovely sight, though you did wonder how things would change as they grew older.

“Hey now, I thought you were helping me? How else am I supposed to transfer the pancakes when they’re cooked, without my little spatula holder?” You pout, watching the conflict cross Laura’s face. To stay with her brother, or help cook? That is the question.

“Go on, go help your mum. Josh will be right here when you’re finished.” John smiles, tilting his head in your direction for Laura to follow. Somewhat reluctantly, she returns to your side, though a large grin soon spreads over her face when you hand her back her prized spatula. She was far too young to help with the actual cooking, so instead Laura was given the very important task of moving each pancake from a plate you put them on, onto a plate for each individual person. Standing beside you, she wore the most serious face she could muster, holding her spatula in a death grip, waiting for the first pancake to be ready.

John moved around behind you in the dining room, strapping Josh into his high chair, and tying a bib around his neck. He was at the stage now, where he would eat bits and pieces of adult food, so long as they were soft, and in tiny pieces. Pancakes where one of his favourites, though even with nothing on them, he still managed to make a mess all over the place, making the bib more or less just for decoration. After getting Josh settled in his high chair, John headed back into the kitchen, to retrieve the maple syrup, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he passed you. His morning stubble scratched your face gently, causing you to scrunch up your face in protest. “Don’t worry. I’ll shave after breakfast.” He chuckled deeply, moving back into the dining room to keep Josh entertained.

It only took another fifteen minutes before all the batter had been turned into perfectly golden pancakes, with three on Laura’s plate, one on Josh’s, and the rest split between yourself and John. As you had predicted, the bowl of berries went mostly untouched, that was until you dumped a spoonful onto Laura’s plate, much to her distaste. Just as she’s about to protest, the front door bursts wide open, revealing a grinning Roger Taylor. “Morning Deaky, (Y/N)…”

“Uncle Roggie!” Laura screams, jumping out of her chair, and darting over to the blonde man before he can greet her. She wraps her arms around his legs, clinging to his jeans for dear life, as he leans down to pick her up, spinning her around in circles.

“Spawn of Deacon!” He chuckles, as your daughter laughs merrily, despite her growing dizziness.

“Careful there Rog, if you don’t stop spinning her, we’ll need to get out a mop.” You warn gently, feeding Josh a small bite of his pancake, grinning as he claps his pudgy hands together. John leans his chin against your shoulder, both watching your son with fond smiles.

Roger places Laura back on her feet, she grips his hand tightly as she attempts to stand still on the spot, waiting for the world to stop spinning around her. “Fair point, I’d rather not clean today thanks.” He shrugs, as he follows Laura further into the house, and into the dining room, stealing a pancake off of John’s plate.

“Um, excuse me? You break into our house, try to kidnap my daughter, then steal my food!” John grumbles, glaring at his bandmate as he bites into the stolen pancake.

“I didn’t break in, you gave me a key remember!”

Roger rolls his eyes, licking the syrup off his fingers, before focusing intently on John. “This is an emergency Deaky, we have a deadline to meet remember?”

John wants to kill him, surely it wouldn’t be that hard to find a new drummer for Queen? “Roger, it’s our one day off before we’re back in the studio. Can’t you let me enjoy breakfast with my family? Just for ten minutes?”

The blonde considers his request for a moment, and for a split second, John thinks that maybe he’ll leave them be for a little while. “Nah mate, we’ve got places to be, people to see, and all that jazz.” Roger smirks, as he scoops a handful of berries into his palm. Laura watching him in fascination the entire time, she too leans across to scoop some berries into her own hand, though stops when you grab the spoon from her. It was rather frightening how much she idolised her Uncle Roger.

“Why don’t you just take the bloody bowl with you?” You muttered under your breath, it was just loud enough for Roger to hear however, and with a wink, he picks up the bowl, and walks to the front door with it.

“I’ll meet you at the car! Thanks for the bowl (Y/N)!” He yells, throwing a raspberry into the air, tilting his head back, then catching it in his mouth. “Bye spawn of Deacon!” He waves at Laura and Josh, your daughter waving back frantically.

John pushes himself away from the table, buttoning up a few buttons on his shirt, leaving the top few undone. “Sorry, it looks like I have to go now.” He sighs, leaning down and pressing soft kisses to your children’s cheeks. He kisses your lips gently, lingering slightly, both of you reluctant to part ways. The sound of Roger blasting his horn on the street is enough to make you part, both sighing deeply.

“Please make sure you get that bowl back. We’re down to five as it is, I really don’t want to go and get more just because Roger decided he wanted to keep one.”

“I’ll see what I can do, though I can’t make any promises.” John grins, pecking your lips once more, before leaving your home, heading out to Roger’s car, and sliding into the passenger seat. Roger was staring straight ahead, making not sign that he was aware of John’s presence. “(Y/N) Wants her bowl back.” Is all he says, causing Roger to break out into a grin.

“I love the fact that I steal her husband at nine in the morning, and all she’s worried about is a bloody bowl!” He howls with laughter, as he pulls out into the street, travelling down a route John was unfamiliar with. “What if I was about to murder you? Bet she would feel pretty bad about her last words to you being about a bowl.”

“I’m pretty sure she knows us well enough, to know that if you were going to murder me, you would do it on stage in front of millions of people, just so you could get your face on the front page one last time.” John shrugged, tapping his foot along to the beat of the music playing on the radio.

Roger remains silent for a few moments, mulling over John’s words. “You’re right, she does know us well.” He finally admits, before pulling up in front of a hair salon. “Alright then Deaky, time to get you look beautiful!” Climbing out of the car, John swallows deeply as he looks at the images plastered on the windows of the salon. Women with brightly coloured hair, in varying degrees of length, pout on the posters, all advertising a product that could make you too look just like them. “Let’s go!”

“And that’s how we ended up here.” Finishes Roger, who now had his feet propped up against the arm of John’s chair. During the retelling of their story, John had been moved over to a different section of the salon, to a seat where a large hair dryer had been lowered onto his head, allowing the chemicals to work their magic on his hair.

“You can come back over here now.” Lisa smiled, as she pulled the helmet off John, leading him back to his original seat. “Well it sounds like you all get up to a lot of mischief. On the plus side John, I think this is really going to suit you!” She smiled, as she began working her nimble fingers over his scalp, taking out the rollers that had been used to set his perm.

Roger watched eagerly, as John’s new hairdo slowly took shape. “See, I told you Deaky, you’re going to a hit with all the ladies soon!” He grins, as he brushes his own hair away from his eyes, not wanting to obstruct his view in any way.

Twenty minutes later, Lisa removed the last roller, running her fingers through the tight ringlets that now bounced all around John’s head. They weren’t the same as Brian’s, though they were damned near similar, John finally understood why so many people accused Brian of having a perm. “So, they’ll stay quite tight for a few days, then they’ll loosen up a little bit and sit more naturally.” Lisa smiled, as she brushed his hair this way and that, until all the strands fell in a way, she deemed suitable.

“Thank you, I suppose. Now is this the time I ask about any rules when it comes to having hair like this?” John sighed softly, studying himself closely in the mirror, perhaps this style was growing on him? It didn’t look nearly as strange as he had thought it would, if anything, it rather suited him.

“Just make sure you don’t get it wet within the next seventy-two hours, otherwise all our hard work will be for naught.” She smiled, as she unclasped the smock from John’s neck, folding it neatly over her arm. Roger followed her up to the register, handing over a small bundle of notes.

“When news gets out about Deaky’s new look, reporters will be all over the place, looking for whoever styled him. Any chance you could maybe not mention anything about the bet?” Roger smiled, with what must be one of his only genuine smiles of the day.

Lisa smiled, taking the notes from Roger, placing some into the register, and a few into her pocket. “I’m sure I can remember to do that.” Was all she said, before Roger turned away to collect John. He groaned as he looked out the salon window, rain splattering heavily against the glass.

“Right then, Deaky come here.” Roger instructed, as John made his way over to him, resting his hands on his hips. “We can’t get your hair wet, so I’m going to walk behind you with a magazine over your head, alright?”

“You don’t trust me to protect my own hair?” John grumbled, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops on his jeans.

Roger frowned at him, opening a magazine and creasing the spine to keep the pages open. “Do I trust you to not get your perm wet, thus rendering our time here pointless? Let me think about that…. Of course I bloody don’t!”

“We never said how long the style had to last. The bet was, that I just had to get the style. Technically I’ve fulfilled my end of the deal.” John shrugged, though he allows Roger to hold the magazine above his head as they make their way back to his car. Roger blasts the heater the moment he turns the key in the ignition, the car warming up in minutes, drying both men from their mad dash through the rain.

“Did your hair get wet?” Roger queries, as he pulls out into the main street again, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel despite their being no music, John just assumed he was working on another song. Carefully, John brushed his hands against his curled hair, feeling for any rain that may have made its way through his make shift umbrella.

“Sadly, I think it survived.” He smirked, watching as Roger gripped the steering wheel tighter, rolling his eyes.

“I paid good money for that perm Deaky, the least you can do is wear it with pride!”

John simply nodded along, opting to stare out the window, watching the scenery as it passed them by in a blur. There was no use in fighting about it, he had a perm now, that’s all there was to it. The drive home took far less time than John seemed to recall, and all too soon the car was parked out the front of Johns home. “I’m dead, I’m honest to god going to die today. She’s been home alone all day with the kids, she’ll be tired and stressed as it is, and then I walk in looking like this?” John mutters, gesturing to his hair wildly, as Roger resumes his position behind him, holding the magazine over his hair once more.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll love it.” Roger grins, using his emergency key to open their front door once again. Shoving John through the entry, causing him to stumble. In his effort to stop himself from falling over, he grabs onto the coat rack by the door, knocking the entire thing to the floor with a loud crash.

Your voice calls from down the hallway, echoing off the walls. “Who’s there?” There’s an edge of worry to her voice, and John is sure that you’ve grabbed both children, just on the off chance there was an intruder.

“It’s just me love!” John calls back, and he can almost hear (Y/N) sigh in relief. Roger sweeps his hand before John, allowing him to enter the soon to be war zone first. “Oh, why thank you.” John hisses, his lip curling up into a snarl. Roger simply grins, running his hand through his blonde locks.

Each step seems to take John an hour to complete, bringing him closer to the loungeroom where he had heard your voice. His heart races in his chest, pounding against his ribcage violently. Eventually he turns the corner, spotting you laying down, with Laura tucked into your side on the sofa, and Josh playing with his building blocks beside them on the rug. John’s shadow looms over his family, and your eyes snap up to look at him, a smile already tugging at your lips. It freezes the moment you see him though, your eyes widening at what you were looking at.

“Deacon spawn, come over here!” Roger yells abruptly, as he crashes in behind John, crouching down and opening his arms wide. Laura rolls off the sofa, leaving you behind, running into her uncle’s arms. He lifts her up, waltzing out of the room, and into the children’s play room.

“John Richard Deacon. What the hell have you done?” You bark out, leaping off the sofa, standing directly in front of your husband. John had the good dignity to look slightly guilty as you stared him down, shoving his hands into his pockets, his feet shuffling against the floor.

“Listen, (Y/N), I can explain!” John tries, but you hold your hand up in front of him, signalling him to stop talking.

“God, I can’t pay attention to anything else but you!” You sigh, looking directly at his perm, rather than his eyes. “What were you thinking? Were you even thinking?” You raise your voice, throwing your arms to your side in exasperation. You didn’t hate the look, you hated the fact that John hadn’t mentioned anything to you about doing it, and that Roger had clearly known what was happening long before you.

“Guys, your child is on fire!” Roger shrieks from the other end of the house, in his usual attempt at stopping you and John from bickering.

“Roger, shut up!” You both groan simultaneously, hearing Laura laugh loudly.

“One day, I’m going to say that, and your child really will be on fire, and you guys will look like the worst parents in the world!” He grumbles, though grins at Laura.

Laura doesn’t repay the look in kind opting instead to fold her arms across her chest. “Is it me or Joshy going on fire?”

Roger looks down at the young child in surprise, not having expected her to ask such a question. “Why, neither of you of course! I mean another kid!”

Laura nods her head in earnest, grinning up at Roger. “Oh, so you mean maybe the baby in Mommy’s tummy will be on fire?”

Roger is, for the first time in a long while, completely lost for words. The sounds of his best mate, and his wife arguing in the kitchen are drowned out by the numerous thoughts running through his head. “What baby is that Laura?”

“Mommy told me to keep it a secret, but she won’t mind me telling you. She says I’m going to be a big sister two times!” Laura smiles, as she brushes the hair on her doll, handing one dressed as a princess to Roger. “You can be Giselle today.” And just like that, all baby talk is over, leaving Roger with far more questions than he started with.

John was leaning against the kitchen counter now, keeping his eyes on you as you paced around the tiled floor. “What next? First Freddie and his moustache, then Roger started bleaching his hair, now you get a perm! What’s the next step? Is Brian going to shave his head?”

As if on cue, Brian allows himself into their home, swinging the door shut behind himself, despite Freddie being right behind him. “What’s this about me now?” He calls, placing a bottle of wine down on the kitchen table as he passes it.

“Brian!” You cry, on the verge of tears, your emotions running on high. “Are you bald? Please tell me you’re not bald! Come take a look at what my bloody husband has done!” You shout in rapid fire succession.

John leans his head back, staring up at the ceiling, he didn’t expect you to get quite so worked up over this, and he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe something else had occurred today, to make you so stressed. Brain waves as he enters the kitchen, grinning widely as he spots John’s hair, folding his arms across his chest as he leans beside the bassist. “Am I bald? No love, this is all me.” He grins widely, shaking his wild mane of curls over his shoulders.

“Oh, thank God.” You breathe out, though that doesn’t stop you from reaching out and tugging on one of is curls, sighing when his hair stays in place. John reaches out, taking your hand in his, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand soothingly. “Really though Brian, just look at this. How am I supposed to focus on anything when I’ve got this hanging around?”

“You make it sound like I’ve sprouted a second head. Besides, it’s really starting to grow on me.” John shrugs, pulling you into his side, and rubbing his curls against your cheek. You can’t help but giggle, the soft brush of his hair feeling rather pleasant.

For the fourth time that day, your front door slams open, and you make a mental note to take back all the emergency keys you had given to John’s bandmates. Freddie struts through the hall, posing with his lips pouted as he enters the kitchen. “Well hello darlings, Roger said to meet him here, and dear lord! Deaky what have you done!” Freddie cries, the light leaving his usually sparkling eyes.

John sighs once again, pressing his palm to his forehead, causing Brian to chuckle deeply. “Freddie, calm down. I’ve already gone through this once. There was a bet Roger and I made, after you grew your moustache. I didn’t think it would last, Roger did. So we agreed that if it was still hanging around in a year then…”

Freddie holds his hand out, just as you had done earlier, and John stops mid-sentence. “I’m sorry Deaky, I love you. But I just can’t pay attention to anything that you’re saying! We’ll discuss your lack of faith in my moustache later.” And with that, Freddie turns on his heel, and glides back to the front door, shutting it firmly behind him.

“Well, that could have gone far better. With both of you.” John shrugs, staring at the spot where Freddie had been not moments, Brian nodding besides him.

“Hey, at least I didn’t leave!” You defend, resting a hand mindlessly over your stomach, scratching your nails against the material of your shirt.

“No, instead you just threatened to kill me! That’s so much better.” John huffed, lifting his hand away from his face, and looking over at you. You simply shrugged at his statement, at the end of the day, you hadn’t actually killed him.

Brian grins at your bickering, shaking his head at the sight of you both. You fought like children sometimes, yet always managed to make amends. “Is anyone else slightly concerned about how quiet Roger and Laura are being?” He queried, stepping through the kitchen and peering up the hall towards the playroom.

“Actually, yeah. I don’t like the silence.” John hummed, following behind Brian, you also followed, not wanting to be left behind. You knew they weren’t up to anything too horrible, generally when Laura and her uncle fell quiet, it was because they were drawing, a task which your daughter took very seriously.

As if they had heard you all wondering what they were up to, Roger came parading out with your giggling daughter on his shoulders, both with wide grins on their cheeky faces. “I know a secret about you.” Roger smirks, looking directly at you, his blue eyes shining brightly.

You roll your eyes at their antics, looking over at Josh as he clapped two blocks together, giggling at the clunking sound they made. “No you don’t Rog.” You sighed, shaking your head gently, curling your fingers around John’s. You felt his grip squeeze yours, his calloused fingers rough against your knuckles.

Roger turns his attention to John now, his canines poking over his lip as he grins, looking just like the Cheshire cat in that moment. “Hey John, I guarantee you that I know something about (Y/N) that you don’t.”

“Not likely mate, we’re practically joined at the hip. We know everything about each other.”

“Wanna make a bet?” Roger smirks darkly.

“Never again.”

#bensroger #abbys3kfics #queen fic #deaky x reader #john deacon #brian may #freddie mercury #roger taylor #deaky imagine #disco deaky

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gunnerpaxton · 5 years

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hlo char number 2 fr bri, some of u kno gunner but his first intro ever was whack bc i didn’t even rly kno him then bt now i do so daniel cook vc: Here We Are!

CISMALE — ever hear people say GUNNER PAXTON looks a lot like AXEL AURIANT? I think HE is about 20 so it doesn’t really work. The FILM major is a SOPHOMORE that is from LARAMIE, WYOMING. They can be +RESILIENT but they can also be -CALLOUS. I think GUNNERmight be N/A. They are living in MANON.

as u can see gunner is from wyoming which is jst . frankly a bit of a nightmare, what even is in wyoming? nothing but Misery

he was the middle child to rly eccentric and weird parents which is where he kinda gets a bit of his personality from

always was a mama’s boy, as soon as his younger brother wyatt was born he became her sunshine but gunner and his mom still had a really solid relationship, whereas the relationship he had with his dad was super strained.......... he was just never rly the Sporty Dude that his dad wanted in a child and thought gunner was sort of Weird to be frank so they jst . avoided each other if anything

elias is his older brother!! played by neen winks at her

elias and gunner always had a bit of a weird relationship too, they’re pretty different yet so alike at the same time?? who knows how that works

they were never That close until the night wyatt went missing ))): their parents were away on a weird probs swingers vacation or something and said the boys should just stay home for the weekend but they were teen boys of course they didn’t listen and all parted ways for a night, but only 2 of the paxton boys returned

after wyatt’s disappearance tho gunner sort of lost himself, sophomore to senior year of high school was like the worst time of his life since elias left for vermont and reoccurring nightmares had gunner slowly Losing It, he was diagnosed with major depressive disorder which he should be taking some pretty hefty meds for but he never remembers to refill his prescription n is just a mess w it in general

always filming at parties, plans on making a film about them just for fun jst basically thinks they’re super entertaining

he’s slowly starting to realize he’s Not Straight but he’s too scared to admit it, they grew up in a fairly religious Macho Man household so anything Gay was frowned upon n thts sort of engraved into his mind

WANTED PLOTS, mayhaps a roommate??, or ppl who are in his major/wld have had classes with him, someone who can tell he’s Awkward and feels bad for him and/or wanna break him out of his shell, a muse of sorts for his films, unrequited crushes, exes?? he wldnt have many bt he’d have Some, i think it’d b rly funny if he had awkward funny Sexual Encounters w ppl too, he also does need some friends, bt basically anything u want!!!

#livingintro #depression tw #missing child tw #kidnapping tw #um i think thts it?? I Hope.#gulps

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queenslasharchive · 5 years

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Fathoms Below

Features: Anderson’s Little Mermaid and Jolly Sailor Bold by Disney

Merry Christmas!!! @matcha-maru

“Upon one summer’s morning,

I carefully did stray

Down by the Walls of Wapping,

Where I met a sailor gay.

Conversing with a young lass

Who seemed to be in pain,

Saying, William, when you go

I fear you’ll ne'er return again.”

Brian woke up, when he felt a small hand tug sharply at the end of his curled ponytail.

It was his one vanity, sea-foam green in color and always intricately braided back with ribbons and sea-glass or fragile shells, anything pretty and decorative that the strands could hold. Currently it was tossed over one shoulder, long and thick as a fist.

And the next time that little hand reached for his braid, he caught it deftly without a second thought, thanks to the inborn reflexes of an apex predator, quickly recognizing the rough callouses from holding a drumstick on the pads of the fingers. Along with the gnarled little scar on the thumb web, a memento from a bad run in with some fishing-line when they were children.

“Angel, why the hair? Why must you always go for the hair?”

He didn’t even need to look over, or even open his eyes, to see his lover pouting in bed beside him, their love-nest illuminated by the foggy window, torrential rain was falling outside, the smell of Roger and rainstorm was heavenly, better than any of the scented candles Freddie would drag in and light up in the flat.

For the ambience, darling!

The delicate hand he still held by the wrist, twisted into a familiar vulgar gesture.

“Yes, Roger. I love you too,” He yawned, showing all his teeth, naturally asserting dominance over the boy he’d loved for just about all of his life.

“Brimi, you’ve been sleeping forever.” Ah, yes, the bitching to remind him that his lover was eternally five years old.

He grunted an affirmative, he had been sleeping forever.

Roger could have said a million other things and Brian would have happily agreed for five seconds more peace. The only thing that spurned his wakefulness was the heavy weight that Roger laid on his chest. A wrapped parcel.

He blinked open his mismatched eyes to see the blonde looking at him with the most impish smile, biting at the corners of his mouth in excitement. “Happy Anniversary, Ariel.”

Inside was a book, but not just any book.

It was a beautiful copy of Anderson’s fairytales, the kind with a fat embossed cover and words that seemed to come off of the page, pictures etched by hand, from old ink-wells and feather quills.

“Rog, its beautiful.” He gasped, it practically took his breath away. He didn’t even mind the silly nickname. “Would you like me to read you something?”

The devilish blonde nodded into the guitarist’s narrow pigeon chest, like that was what he’d wanted all along, his ear resting just over Brian’s heart, lulled by the sound of the beat as his current pillow was so often lulled by the lapping waves of the sea.

Sometimes Brian wondered how it was possible to love someone so much. To be happy to watch your heart live outside of your body. To be resigned to the fact that you would never, ever be enough for them. That you would never ever deserve them.

“Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects…"

Rog snored a little in his sleep, snorting like a piglet, and Brian couldn’t keep the fond smile off of his face.

‘“When you have reached your fifteenth year,” said the grandmother, “you will have permission to rise up out of the sea, to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, while the great ships are sailing by; and then you will see both forests and towns.”’

Bri slowly slipped his own thick red bracelet off his wrist, a small clunky chain, with one hand and squeezed it tightly until it was a thick red blanket, one that he tucked securely around the both of them. His cohuleen druith. His soul. The mark of a Merrow. One who would always belong to the sea.

“At last she reached her fifteenth year. “Well, now, you are grown up,” said the old dowager, her grandmother; “so you must let me adorn you like your other sisters;” and she placed a wreath of white lilies in her hair, and every flower leaf was half a pearl. Then the old lady ordered eight great oysters to attach themselves to the tail of the princess to show her high rank.

“But they hurt me so,” said the little mermaid.

“Pride must suffer pain,” replied the old lady.“

Then as if he’d thought better of the change, the blanket melted away, until it became a sold tiny ring that nearly fell into the crevice between them.

Its base was a twisted circulatory system, redder than the most glittering garnet, deeper than the most ravishing ruby, all of the tendrils curling in towards the center, where an enormous creamy white pearl rested.

Pearls that size were only found in the deepest, darkest and most treacherous parts of the sea. No mortal bride would ever have a pearl that big. No one but his Roger, who deserved so much more than Brian could ever give him.

He slipped it onto Roger’s hand as delicately as he could, kissing the blonde halo of hair that he had known for most of his creation.

“Happy Anniversary, my prince.” My love.

-X-

Freddie asked how they’d met once, as he and Deaky had sat huddled on the couch.

Brian and Roger had been wrapped around each other as always, lying on the floor in a heap, practically nose to nose. Simply existing in each other’s presence as they were wont to do.

“You know what I’ve always wondered? How did you two meet, darlings? Was it love at first sight? Lust?”

Instead of rolling his robin-egg eyes, Roger had flashed that same wicked gremlin grin of his.

“At the beach when we were kids. So I’m not sure I wanted into his trousers quite yet.” His voice turned wistful as his tongue peeked out of the corner of his round lips. “Although it certainly didn’t take very long.”

All joking aside, Roger had only been five years old then, running rampant in Truro, the tiny little fishing port that it was. Small, homely.

He had known his way around the stones and rocky shoals of the local beaches like the back of his hand, even back then. And so was often left to play there alone.

The feckless child had wandered too close one day however, just after a storm, a frightening squall, when the beach was fraught with debris and danger, the shoreline was slick and the waters dark and murky.

Hiding the remnants of ships smashed to bits, and he likely would’ve died on the jagged rocks that peppered the wide-open breaks, if a long webbed hand hadn’t stopped him in his descent.

The hand had belonged to an older boy sitting up on the aforementioned rocks, who had managed to snag the back of the untucked and oversized school uniform shirt that Roger wore, with his predatory reflexes.

Having done so, only seconds before the blonde would’ve met an untimely end in the watery depths below.

Fathoms below.

Roger had whimpered softly at the sensation of it all, sniffling more so out of shock than fear, as the youth gently placed him into a little dip, an alcove on the rock’s side.

“That wasn’t very smart.” Brian had sighed, clucking over the bright red blood that welled up from a small gash on the young drummer’s knee.

Running on the slopes like a little fool.

Rather lacklusterly, he’d mopped at it with the corner of the bright and violently red hoodie he wore.

But Roger had paid no mind at all to his battle wound and was far more interested in gawking at his odd-looking savior.

Brian, long before he had introduced himself as being so, long before his name even was so, with his long wet hair that hung in tangles around his round face and trailed far down his back, green of all things, was certainly a sight for sore eyes.

His hair was green like the seaweed that stunk in the hot summer’s sun and washed up in clots on the sand.

His pale hands were webbed between the first-knuckle, as were the toes on his flat feet, and his shining eyes were strange.

Two completely different colors, one was the beautiful blue-green color of splashing sea-foam, of playful days spent in the surf, the other was so dark blue-violet that it was like the sea during a tempest, fierce and frightening, a warning to all who dared come close.

Rog had cried out then, not at Brian’s odd appearance, but because the salty water pressed into his aching knee stung like St. Elmo’s Fire.

He flinched away from the tsking youth, who hummed a soft apology. “It’s a natural disinfectant. But you’ll want your Mum to take a better look when you get home.”

Roger’s Mum had always been a special kind of woman. (It was she who would adopt Brian as her own, when he finally came from the water and chased her cruel husband away).

An inquisitive girl even as a grown woman, full of freckles playing peekaboo on her exposed shoulders and impossibly red tresses that curled up and around her like the embers of a dying flame.

As a child she’d so eagerly swam with the seals that basked on the shoals of the beaches, near her sleepy little village home.

And would often nap on the sunbaked windswept hills near the cliffs, once the day’s play was done.

As a little girl she’d believed in the old stories and songs that permeated everyday life there, like an invisible presence, a gentle fleeting touch of old.

At night, she listened for the banshee’s wailing cries, and tried to catch a glimpse of a dullahan on his glossy black steed. She could recite the tales of Lir’s Swan Children and the Tuatha Dé Danann who made their home in Tír na nÓg, the land without time.

But above all else, Rachel, whose Gaelic name was Muirín ‘born of the sea’, was a child of the surf and sky.

It was her second home and her father often joked, fluffing her red curls with his calloused hands of fishhook and twine, that she would marry a Selkie and have half-seal babies one day.

He was wrong.

The man she married was a cruel cold man of the earth, who treated her like silt beneath his boots and little more than a dirty maid.

Yet she bore him one son, born with his sandy locks and her face.

She would run into the crashing crystal blue surf with her baby boy perched on one hip and he would shriek and cling to her curls with joy. And eventually with the years, he grew to be big enough that they could run in and jump out together.

The man she married slowly stole the life from her body, the song in her soul.

Eventually she simply collapsed on the beach outside their cottage in the middle of the night, crying desperately, desolately into the sand.

Screaming for something, someone, begging.

The pockets of her dress were loaded down with cowrie shells and other heavy island debris, her long red curls rocked with the waves of the ocean that swallowed her up. Swirling, twirling russet-red.

But she didn’t drown. Her son was not left without a mother.

She woke up with a mouthful of sand and a pair of vivid mismatched eyes just inches away from her own.

He stayed.

So she was unafraid of leaving her child unattended in the surf.

Muirín Taylor was a woman who grew up with the spirits of Ireland dwelling safely in her heart.

She was unfairly hurt and wronged by a life that she shouldn’t have lived in the first place. The poor girl eventually gave up and forgot the old ways of her once vibrant world, but they never forgot her.

When she cried, the ocean listened.

When her son cried, the ocean listened.

Brian sat on his rocky perch and waited, listening.

Then the little drummer boy noticed that the red hoodie was all that the older boy wore.

“Where are your clothes?!"

Brian had simply shrugged, tossing back his hair and batting those unforgettable eyes.

“I don’t need any underneath the water.”

Roger still hadn’t picked up on the strangeness of it all. It would be years still, before he saw the bloody red tail that could cut through the surf like butter, the scales far sharper than daggers that glittered in the moonlight, the predatory teeth and slitted eyes, made for tracing the movement of appetizing prey. The true apex predators of the deep.

"You live in the water?"

Brian had nodded.

"On a boat?"

The mismatched eyes creased slightly when he frowned, and then he’d just shaken his head to the contrary.

"No, not on a boat.” An obliging smile graced his wind-chapped lips as he finished the makeshift bandage. “You should be heading home though, this place is not safe for your kind, especially not for one so young."

It was far more than the suggestion that his soft tone alluded to, it was a warning.

Now Roger may have only been a child then, but he was a child who knew the sound of angry voices and the touch of violent hands.

Perhaps even better than the gentle and soothing ones that he had always craved. His father was not a patient man, and he felt even less inclined to give favor to a son who had still shown no promise at anything of value.

Roger had been beaten senseless many times, and for an instant, he feared that the boy on the rocks with his too-sharp teeth and strange eyes may do the same.

As if Brian had been the same sort of monster that Roger had come to fear.

Then, just as he was standing once more, hunger pangs hit him sharply and his stomach let out a growl that just wouldn’t be stifled.

He was mortified, sick, by the loud sound and flinched away, wrapping his hands tightly around his concave middle and waiting for the angry hands and yells that would often follow such rudeness.

But none came.

Only the gentle concerned eyes of the boy Brian was, who seemed to realize the true extent of the younger child’s plight before him, within the same breath.

Webbed pale hands helped Roger to sit down once more.

"Sit. Stay."

Twin orders, that would most assuredly be followed, before Brian stood upright, balanced in a single graceful motion and dove into the frothing waters below.

Roger thought he saw a hint of something red and shiny, perhaps even a fin, but it soon left his field of vision before he could see properly.

When the older boy returned it was with four fat fish being tossed up onto the rock-face, before he climbed there as well. Green hair flying haphazard with the wind and his red hoodie sticking to his skin as if loathe to leave it.

Three of the still-quivering fish were pushed towards Roger, while one was seized by Brian himself and a mouthful of flesh torn away, revealing shock-white bone and dripping entrails.

He swallowed the chunk whole and even licked his lips before foisting the messy carcass into Roger’s hesitant little hands, as if expecting the child to do the same.

Abject horror was plain as day on the little one’s face.

"Oh.” It seemed to dawn on the older boy then as well. “You cook fish."

The blonde child nodded vehemently, and was quick to hand the masticated fish back with a grimace.

Brian reclaimed it with another little laugh, devouring the rest with a terrifying speed and ferocity that almost brought back Roger’s original fear, or would have, if it hadn’t been belied by the funny faces the green-haired beanpole kept making to assuage them.

He then softly instructed the younger boy on how to hold the three fish all at once, to transport them safely back to his family.

Roger and Rachel would eat well for one night at least.

The odd youth guided the tiny boy away from the broken rocks and back onto the dry land.

And surely would’ve left right then, but Roger, as if expecting such an escape, had hastily seized a small webbed hand within two of his own.

“What’s your name?"

Brian had paused for a moment, before almost sighing the word, ”Muirgeilt.“ Sea-wanderer.

"That’s a pretty name… But I can’t really say it properly. Do you have another one? I’m Roger Meddows Taylor.” So proud of it. Like he'd practiced saying it aloud with conviction.

A small sad smile graced the elder’s lips.

"It is very nice to meet you, Roger. You can call me whatever you’d like.”

”…If I come back tomorrow, with a name, will you be here?“ Pleading eyes.

Brian turned his head slightly, angled towards the ocean as if called by some silent siren song. One hand touching the place where Roger’s blood had seeped into his red hoodie.

"Yes, I will be." Forever it seems.

And he was.

“Yeah.” Brian smiled, years upon years later, slowly eskimo-kissing the love of his life, who still rested in his arms. What a wonderful thing, to be able to hold one’s whole world.

“At the beach when we were kids.”

-X-

“My sailor is as smiling

As the pleasant month of May

And often we have wandered

Through Ratcliffe Highway…

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold.”

#maylor #deacury #submission #au #brian: merman #relationship: established #fic #secret santa gifts

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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years

Note

♤Hi! May I please get a ship for Queen & Bo Rhap? I’m 26 but I have already decided that I don’t want kids in the future, I prefer to focus on my career and my dream is to become an editor in a major media. I love reading, writing and watching movies. I’m usually the quiet person at the corner of the room who dresses in all black and tries to avoid all attention. I don’t consider myself a romantic person so I don’t like grand gestures. I also don't like rom coms. Have lots of insecurities.

hellooooooo

i’m taking a break from writing to do this HI i love that you want to be an editor. respect that so much

anyWAYS on to the part that u actually care about

below the cut ;)

For Queen, I ship you with Brian May!

Roger for sure would scare you away with grand gestures, he sometimes has issues differing between romance and spending needlessly on gooey crap.

And even though Brian is such a lowkey dad, I think he would 100% respect your decision to not have kids, unlike Deacon.

In fact, when you hardly knew Brian, he came to your defense when Deacon was giving you a hard time for wanting to focus on your future and not have to worry about providing for children. You were all seated around a table playing board games (Freddie was having a game night), but Roger and Freddie were wanting to finish their Scrabble game before you started anything else, so they were at the other end swearing at each other.

“I just think that you would be a good mom,” Deacon replied simply, setting his hands on the table and spreading out his fingers as he pressed the palms to the cool, grainy wood. He seemed perplexed by your aversion to kids, seeing as he’d always been such a family-oriented person.

“Oh, lay off of her, would you Deacon? You’re being a bit harsh,” Brian interjected from Deacon’s left. You sighed a bit in relief, thanking God that you didn’t have to endure any more of Deacon’s haranguing.

“Thank you, Brian,” you mumbled, and he nodded politely, sending you a particularly soft smile before continuing.

“Besides, I think it’s nice she wants to focus on her career. You're one to talk, you were deadset on electrical engineering before oh-so-graciously deciding you would join Queen after all.” John rolled his eyes, partially ignoring Brian as he tapped his fingers on the table, shaking his head. “Y/N’s got a good head on her shoulders. We should all be a little more like her sometimes.”

Brian’s kind, unwarranted words made a blush come to your cheeks, and you ducked your head as John scoffed, still looking down at his hands. “You think I don’t have a good head on my shoulders?

Brian’s response was simple, but sharp, and came accompanied with a pat to Deacon’s head. “Nope, you’ve got this mess flopping around.”

When Brian’s hand came to rest on top of his head, you saw Deacon’s expression sour before he smacked his hand away, scooting away from him. “Touch me again and I’ll really give you a good smack. Also, who are you kidding? You can’t even get to your stupid head through that mess,” he sneered, tugging on a curl of Brian’s rather hard and making him yelp, which got all of you to laughing.

Brian 100% started using any excuse he could after that to come hang out with you. He’d ask if he could borrow a book, or ask your opinion on a movie, and then finagle his way into a library date or movie night with you as a result.

You let him ‘finagle’ it out of you. Brian was cute, and his kind, soft demeanor was a great complement to your need for a subdued, temperate lifestyle.

He was absolutely infatuated with you, so when he decided he was ready to ask you to be his girlfriend, he had to ask the boys how they thought he should do it.

Roger and Freddie came up with some ideas that would have genuinely humiliated you, while Deacon offered an approach that would have you swooning for days, and Brian was incredibly nervous to make it happen - he was pretty whipped by you, so he wanted to get everything right.

And from the beginning, everything went wrong.

The garlic toast was burnt, the sauce was flavorless, and the pasta was overcooked when you showed up to Brian’s. He’d called you and asked you to come over to help him with a song he’d been working on, so you hadn’t expected for him to be cooking a fancy meal gone wrong when you walked in.

“Shit, I’ve ruined it all,” he cursed as you peeked around the corner of the kitchen. He was standing over the charred garlic toast with his hands on his hips, looking frustrated and pretty much defeated as he tried to reckon with the situation. When you cleared your throat, he jumped in surprise, not knowing that you’d come in.

“Hello, Bri,” you murmured gently, giving him a polite kiss on the check when he gave you a mildly frustrated smile and came over to greet you. “Having some problems? Thought you were working on a song?”

“Well, d’you want to know the truth?” he asked, sounding a bit exasperated as he threw the dish towel over his shoulder, walking back over to shut the burners off on the stove top. When you nodded, he sighed and leaned back against the counter, giving you a pitiful look as he gestured to the food. “I asked the boys what I should do for you tonight. I wanted to do something nice for you to show you that I appreciate you. Want to know what Roger and Freddie said?”

You were a bit red in the face at his particularly sentimental words that were laced with a bit of frustration, but you nodded for him to continue.

“They suggested I take you to wine and dine, then go for a private boat ride down the river that ended in a fireworks show. The whole 9 yards.” You wrinkled your nose a bit at the grandiose idea - perfect for those two, but not quite your style. “But then Deacon had the perfect idea - cook a homemade dinner, stay in, and watch a movie. And I’ve fucked it all up from the get-go, made myself look like an absolute moron who can’t even cook pasta. It’s a wonder you even hang around with me.”

“Brian, I think it’s sweet,” you laughed softly, coming over to poke the garlic bread with your pinky and meeting a remarkably hard surface. “And you haven’t ruined it. How about we just get delivery and stay in? We can watch The French Connection?”

And so you did. You ordered in some Chinese, settled in on the couch, and you were watching the car chase scene when Brian shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat as he looked over at you with a sort of wistful expression. He was pale, his eyes searching your face with an unreadable stare.

“What is it?” you asked, glancing at him for a moment before looking back at the screen. “Food didn’t make you sick, did it?”

“No, no,” he chuckled airily, scratching his head before turning a bit more to you. “I was just going to ask you something, but I don’t know if I can handle your answer.”

“Well, now you’ve got to ask it,” you replied, raising an eyebrow as you looked at him curiously.

“Well, I said I brought you over here just to make sure you know I appreciated you, but I actually brought you over so I could ask.... would you be my girlfriend?”

Laughing, you cocked your head before nodding and trying not to blush as hard as your body was about to. “Even though you timed this to be during one of the best scenes of the movie, I suppose I’ll still say yes,” you teased gently, reaching over to take his hand and squeeze it.

A brilliant smile took over his face as he squeezed your hand in return before kissing your knuckles affectionately and letting your intertwined hands drop to his lap. “Well, isn’t that good timing? Now you’ll remember this as your favorite scene because of me.”

“Mmm, pretty sure I’ll still mainly remember it for the beautiful, tasteful cut sequences, but you’re a close second.”

And for BoRhap, I ship you with Rami Malek!

Your aversion to grand gestures and intense public scrutiny is very similar to Rami’s avoidance of social media and broadcasting his day to day to everyone. You’re both content with being out of the spotlight if at all possible, and Rami’s low profile public appearances are perfect for your relationship.

You were a friend of Gwilym’s before you met Rami, and Gwil noticed that both of you were a bit lonely while Rami was over in London for principal photography for BoRhap, so he set you up on a blind date together.

The location? A lowbrow cafe in a less populated part of London. That way, you were out of the public eye as much as possible without having to stay in, and you could get to know each other over some comfort food.

Within a half an hour, you had already warmed up to Rami’s easy-going way of conversing, and his gentle charm was enough to bring you out of your shell. It felt like you’d known him for years by the time your food arrived on the table.

After the cafe, it was dark enough that Rami asked if you’d like to take a walk, no longer fearing that the paparazzi would hound him if he just kept a low profile.

“So what do you do? I never got a chance to ask you that back there,” Rami asked, his arm held out so you could link yours into it as you started to head down the street.

“I’m an editor at Daily Mail. Not my preferred place of work, but not bad,” you replied, resting your other hand on his arm as you stuck close to his side, trying not to run into anyone.

“Not bad at all,” he chuckled, looking down at you with a small twinkle in his eye before he looked ahead, crossing the street with you. “Gwilym told me you’re into movies, is that right?”

“Gwilym told you something about me? I thought this was supposed to be a blind date, that dickhead!” you laughed, shaking your head as you looked forward. “Didn’t even tell me anything about you, how unfair!”

“I sort of got him drunk enough that he’d tell me the other night, so....” Rami shrugged, smiling sheepishly as you giggled at the thought of Drunk Gwilym trying to describe you. “I was nervous. Wanted to impress you, I haven’t been on a date in... gosh, forever. I’ve been so busy with filming, I basically dropped off the face of the dating world.”

“Still doesn’t make it fair, but props to you for thinking of the drunk thing. That’s a lot farther than I got when I tried to pry information out of him.” After a small pause, you looked down at your feet and smiled, then looked up at him. “And yes, I do like film. I’m a big movie girl.”

“Well... if you weren’t aware, I’m in a few films,” Rami said nonchalantly, an impish grin playing at his lips as he met your gaze for a moment. “I’m an actor, so that’s pretty much my thing.”

“You’re an actor? Gosh, that’s crazy! Never knew that,” you replied in faux excitement, sarcasm lacing your voice, and Rami laughed as you started giggling, the two of you an adorable sight to all the passerby.

And an adorable sight you continued to be as you went out for a second, and third, and even fourth date at hole in the wall places around London. When principal photography was wrapping up, Rami asked you to be his girlfriend, and even though the distance thing made you nervous, you knew that there was no reason to worry about trust or anything. So, you said yes.

A couple weeks after he’d departed London, he was preparing for the press tours and you were in the midst of a big project when he called you out of the blue, dragging you from a meeting you’d been bored to tears by anyways.

“Hello?” you answered, pressing your phone to your ear as you stepped back into your office, shutting the door behind you.

“Hi, beautiful. How’s your day?”

Rami’s voice made you grin ear to ear, filling your whole body with an inexplicable warmth. “It’s going. You almost packed?”

“Of course not,” he laughed over the phone, making you giggle softly. “I’m trying, but I really had to get something off my chest before I got to work here.”

“Okay, shoot,” you said casually, though you were confused by ‘get something off my chest,’ so you raised an eyebrow, very interested in what he had to say.

“So, what would you say if I flew into London tomorrow, and you came with me to help me choose my place?”

“Choose your place?” you asked, baffled by the question. You weren’t really sure what he was proposing, but he sounded somewhat excited.

“Well, I really miss you, and Ben, and Gwilym - especially you - so I figured why not get myself a house in London so I can be there as often as I want without imposing on all of you?”

You almost choked as you realized Rami was literally considering buying a home in London to be close to you. It seemed an awful lot like an expensive attempt at a romantic gesture, and you didn’t want that at all. “Babe, please don’t feel like you have to do this just to be a good boyfriend-”

“No, no, I want to!” he interrupted, sounding genuine as he chuckled a little, then cleared his throat. “Also, it’s not just for you, if that worries you. I miss London in general. And Ben and Gwilym. Those two... are something. Can’t believe I miss them as much as I do.”

“More than me?” you teased, Rami’s laugh filling your ear and making you grin as you let the temporary nerves wear off. Rami in London. Now that was something you could get used to.

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