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bottleofspilledink · 4 years

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God’s Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter IX

“So…” Eve began, staring at the various stands and stalls and tables with all sorts of different agendas, occasionally shifting her gaze to the people who would weave between it all.

In every sense of the word, today was, for lack of a better word, eventful.

This was most likely why, when they were gathered in the gymnasium for club sign-ups, the pair simply stood amidst the somewhat organized chaos, clueless.

“What now?” Eve pulled out the club sign-up form from her skirt pocket, thankful she hadn’t lost it in all the ruckus. “My offer still stands, I really don’t mind letting you pick the club we join.”

“I mean. I already told you earlier that I don’t really care what club we go to either way.” Lilith shrugged. She wasn’t trying to sound apathetic, but she couldn’t really remember the last time she enjoyed club time solely for it’s activities and not the friends she would do them with. “You pick.”

“Alright, we’re not gonna get anywhere with this, so how about a compromise?”

“I’m listening,” Lilith chuckled. Of course Eve would be the type to suggest something like that.

The girl in question blushed at the sound, but fought to gather her thoughts and continue.

“You can tell me the clubs you don’t like and I’ll do the same. After we narrow down the list, we can settle on a club that we both like, or at least a club that on of us can tolerate.”

“Okay, but let me tell you now, there are a lot of clubs I don’t like.”

It was Eve’s turn to laugh, her hand automatically coming to cover her mouth as she grinned and giggled.

“Tell me anyway.”

“No music club,” Lilith said, right off the bat. “I’m a mediocre singer and I don’t want to spend two or three hours a week singing hymns.”

“Reasonable enough.” Eve recalled being given a small flier when they entered, the colourful paper listing all available clubs and emptied her pockets once more in search of it before crossing out the words “music club” with a pen she had found while looking for the paper. “Anything else?”

“No home economics. You know why.”

Eve just nodded an drew a line across it.

She was doing this to make up for what she did, not draw attention to it.

“And lastly,” Lilith said, voice tinted with humor as she tried to lighten the mood, somewhat guilty when she saw Eve’s face fall when she mentioned home economics, “no math club. ‘Cause I’m not a nerd.”

The girl succeeded, getting a tiny, genuine laugh from Eve that made her heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wing whenever it graced her ears.

“It’s fine, I’m bad at math too.”

Lilith visibly perked up at the words, the teasing grin Eve had so missed making a comeback at long last, “I never said I was bad at math. I’m pretty good at it, actually. I just don’t like doing it more than I have to.”

“Really?” Eve joked, displaying a mock-disbelief. Lilith was no idiot, though judging by her work ethic when it came to CLE, Eve couldn’t help but make a few assumptions. “What score did you get on the practice test a few days ago then?”

“Ninety-four percent.”

At that Eve’s eyes grew wide as saucers. That was better than she had gotten, and, more surprisingly, it was better than what Mary had gotten, ninety percent, an A minus that paled in comparison to Lilith’s A.

“Oh. That’s neat.” What could she say in response to that?

Fortunately, she didn’t have to struggle to say more, as Lilith returned the question to her.

“What did you get on the test.” Lilith wasn’t the type to gloat, at least not to a person she liked, but the thought of Eve thinking her a fool or a failure wasn’t the kind of image she wanted to project either.

“Eighty-seven…” She stared at the floor in shame, suddenly enamored in the scuff marks a muddy sneaker had left on the floor, shame flooding her face in the form of blood, her cheeks taking on a soft pink for different reasons now. Who could have left this here? A student who had forgotten to clean the soles of her shoes? A janitor, maybe?

Lilith couldn’t help but melt at the sight, immediately speaking to comfort the girl.

“Hey, come on. There’s no need to be embarrassed, that’s a pretty good grade, especially coming from someone who says they’re bad at math!” She clasped Eve’s shoulder and gave a gentle, encouraging squeeze, trying to get her to look up from the floor. “That’s like, what, a solid B? A B plus even?”

When that didn’t work, she slid her hand down to Eve’s and ran the pad of her thumb over the soft skin before giving another, more tender squeeze. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to embarrass you when I asked that. If you want, I can help you review for the next test?” She put on a smile and tried to sound optimistic, mind running a mile a minute as she tried to figure out what to say next.

“There’s always room for improvement!” Lilith said, stealing one of Paula’s lines in the rare occasion that Joan flubbed a test or lost a game. She’d have to thank her for that later.

Meanwhile, Eve hoped that Lilith wouldn’t be able to feel her pulse through her wrist, the pink hue her face took on having faded, only to return with a vengeance when Lilith opted to hold her hand, the way the girl soothed her thumb over her knuckles nearly sending her into cardiac arrest, the momentary squeeze stealing the air from her lungs and running for the hills, if only for an instant before she mustered up enough breath to speak.

“You’d really do that? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Are you kidding me?” Lilith grinned, incredulous. “Of course I’d help! With a score like that, there isn’t even all that much to do.”

The way Eve looked at her when she said those words, amber eyes adoring and brimming with marvel as it were, Lilith couldn’t bring herself to look away, it was like she was lost and slowly, willingly sinking into the entrancing, honeyed hue that was Eve’s eyes.

She could hardly handle being the subject of the girl’s gratitude-filled gaze, her heart clenching tenderly when Eve smiled at her, because of her, soft and sweet, dimples appearing on her rosy cheeks, unaware of the near-painful longing that welled up in Lilith’s chest.

In the split second silence, Lilith wondered whether it was for better or worse that Eve didn’t know how her heart ached whenever she made her smile, knowing that Eve, kind person she was, would never want to hurt her, even in the most gentle way, the soft tightening of her chest Lilith herself would sometimes even long for.

“Anyway,” Eve said, breaking the quiet that had settled over them, “I really can’t join the art club, so that’s out of the question. My drawing skills are literally non-existent.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! The best I can do are stick figures, bee doodles, and really loopy flowers.”

They scratched that off the list and began roaming around, Eve unsure of what clubs were a hard no for her but wanting to narrow down the list further.

“Oh, definitely no debate club.” She said out the moment she saw their stand, stopwatch, hardwood podium and all.

“Okay, but why?” Lilith took the list from her and crossed it out, skimming over it in search of clubs the both of them could enjoy.

“They’re sca-“

“Lilith!”

A girl with shoulder-length black hair swishing slightly with every step came up from behind them and hugged Lilith with a fierce grip, nearly making the both of them fall to the ground in the process, her long-suffering partner, local gossip girl, Margaret, merely trailing a few paces behind her, not wanting to be associated with the girl who managed to make at least eleven heads turn towards them.

“Joan told me everything this morning. Where is she?” The girl let go, swinging her head around frantically and craning her neck in an exaggerated search. “I’m gonna beat this chick’s ass if it’s the last thing I do!”

Finally, Margaret came closer and tried to put a stop to whatever was unfolding. “Swearing is against the rules, Julia. I can report you for that.”

The girl, Julia, apparently, turned to look at her partner, joyful demeanor fading in an instant.

“So is make-up and cheating, but you don’t see me yapping about it, do you?”

That shut Margaret up effectively, cheeks probably red with indignance under her foundation.

“Anyway, where is the bitch? I’ll-“

“Okay, before you finish that sentence, I think you should know that the girl you’re calling a bitch is right beside me. Right now.” Lilith said, grabbing her by the shoulders and making her face Eve.

Julia looked at her.

She looked at Julia.

“Hi.”

“Oh shit. Hey…” They stared at each other, a split second of tension filled silence passing between them. “I’m not taking back what I said though, you’re a bitch. I mean seriously, I get not being gay but did you have to- OW!”

Lilith’s elbow met Julia’s rib, harshly.

“When did Joan say all this?” She sighed. The last thing she needed right now was someone making Eve feel worse after everything that happened today, especially now that they were just starting to patch things up and talk free of any awkwardness.

“I already told you, she said all that this morning. We sat next to each other in CLE and passed notes while Sister Jane wasn’t looking.”

“Julia, you’re fucking nuts and I love you for that,” Lilith sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “but now is really not the time. Go ask Joan or Paula to catch you up on things, they should be around here somewhere. We’re busy looking for a club. Until they tell you what happened earlier, you can not call Eve anything except Eve.”

“Oh wow, okay. I must have missed something big if you’re defending the girl who made you sob so hard, you almost-”

“The details aren’t important! Besides, you weren’t there, so you don’t know what happened.”

Julia raised a brow at the girl, shutting up to help her save face, but going in for one last tease before she went looking for Paula to see the whole picture, “I literally just said that Joan told me everything, but okay.” She put her hands up in a sort of surrender. “Say what you want, babe! I’ll get the truth out of you the next time we get wasted anyways, so yeah!” And with that she turned to leave before, rather impulsively, Eve called out to her.

“What club did you join?”

“You’re really gonna look at me and not immediately assume I’m in the softball club? You offend me, Eve. I mean really! You know what they say about softball. It’s the sport of my people!”

The blonde merely stood in silence, absolutely dumbfounded, mouth opening and closing like a fish yet not a syllable leaving her lips.

Julia cackled, tossing her head back and ruffling her soft curls. “Oh God, she doesn’t know?” She asked Lilith, her eyebrows raised so far up that no one watching would be surprised if they receded even further back to join the hair on her head. “You really know how to pick ‘em, sweetheart!”

She walked away, giggling and giving them – well, more Lilith than Eve – finger guns all the while.

“Okay, I’m just going to ask. What was that whole thing about softball about?”

At this, Lilith herself couldn’t help but laugh. “Basically, it’s kinda a stereotype that, and this isn’t a thing we made up, lesbians play softball.”

Eve’s look of confusion turned to bafflement turned to a somewhat exasperated and incredulous amusement. “That makes no sense, but I’m going with it anyway. How did that even start?”

“I actually don’t know, but we went along with it too, cause why the fuck not? You know?” Lilith shrugged and they continued walking again. “There’s probably a bit of truth in there somewhere. It’s how Joan and Paula got together, so there’s that! And Julia has an ex that used to be a member.”

Eve took the list back from her while she was distracted, eyes quickly scanning over it to see if Lilith had crossed anything out while it was in her possession. “I’m assuming there’s a story behind that?”

“Yup!” She snatched the flier away from Eve once more, holding it high above her head when the girl tried to get it again. “But not one you get to hear. Not yet.”

She huffed at that. Eve, despite already standing on her toes, the four inch height difference between them made it so she couldn’t get the list back from Lilith.

“Okay then. But one last question.”

“Yeah?”

“Sweetheart? Babe?” Eve asked, a twinge of jealousy in her. Granted, she had no right to be, at least in her own mind she didn’t. She wasn’t even supposed to be feeling anything for Lilith other than disdain, but what could she do? Her only consolation was the fact she’d yet to act on said emotions.

Technically.

Eve tried to justify what she could, mind jumping from hoop to hoop, connecting loose strings, drawing lines between dots that were barely there. Earlier wasn’t anything akin to love. It was just a friend taking care of a friend.

Yes.

“Oh, that? Yeah, Julia calls everyone that, really. It’s nothing personal.” Lilith felt delusional. Were her feeling for Eve so strong as to warp her mind and affect her hearing, going so far as to imagine Eve’s voice with a pang of envy. “If you get on her good side, she’ll probably call you something too. Not what she called you earlier, though.”

A wave of relief washed over the blonde… followed immediately by guilt for feeling said relief.

It was nothing another round of mental gymnastics couldn’t fix.

The only reason she was relieved was because Lilith not being in a relationship meant that she wasn’t beyond saving.

Of course.

“I hope so, too.” Eve said. They turned to walk down a different aisle, about forty-five minutes left for them to find and join a club.

The pair strolled between stalls leisurely, narrowing down the list bit by bit, encircling the ones they had taken a particular liking to, chatting about clubs.

“The gardening club seems cool.” Lilith suggested, looking at their small stall decorated with small, origami flowers, the girls who ran it not having the heart to pluck what they had grown just yet. “It’s outside so I get some fresh air and it’s no sport, so you won’t have to strain yourself like you did in gym. Whaddya think of it?”

She looked over at Eve, only to see her frowning, a mix of disappointment and contempt in her eyes.

“I’d love to join, but I’m not allowed. My mom doesn’t like me gardening.” Her frown turned into a pout, eyes growing glassy with frustrated tears that had been building up for nearly a decade now. “She made me stop when I was eight because my hands were getting rough…”

“Use me.”

“What?”

“Use me as an excuse. Tell her I made you join it.”

Her words were temptation, the apple offered to Eve by the serpent.

Lilith held the sign-up slip and the red pen out to her, the folded paper an open invitation to rebellion. She wouldn’t force Eve, however, wanting this decision, this sin, to be hers and hers alone, the girl refusing to even write her own name on the paper.

Eve could feel the fifth commandment ringing in her ears, as the Eve before her knew she was defying god.

“Honour thy father and thy mother.”

And yet, Eve could also feel the dirt between her fingers and under her nails, the weight of a trowel in her hands, the sun beating on her back through the gaps in the leaves of their oak tree, the scent of the earth and the flowers carried by the breeze.

The nagging voice in her ears faded and morphed to the gentle buzzing of the bees and the high-pitched chirping of the birds.

Eve took the form and filled it up.

Eve took the apple and ate of it.

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Taglist: @anon-nom-nom95 @melpomenismask @littlemisscalamity @i-wanna-be-a-rock @extrabitterbrain @gaypeaches @phillyinthebathroom @leahstypewriter @madame-ree @pirateofblood

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another-blog-bites-the-dust · 5 years

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Masterpiece.

Summary: While creating a piece of art for a gallery, Brian knows that you are the real masterpiece.

Warnings: Here be SMUT! Nothing too crazy but there is paint involved. Fingering, unprotected sex (pleaseeeee use a condom) swearing, some dirty talk. Do not read if you're under 18!

A/N: Just some soft, cute, messy, fluffy smut with Brian who is a literal walking piece of art. I hope you enjoy! 💖

You and Brian naturally connected and clicked through how creative you both were- you being an artist and him being a guitarist.

He'd sit for hours on end posing for you while you drew or painted him and you'd listen to countless of chords he played and lyrics that he sung.

Right now you were in your flat that you often shared with him staring at a blank canvas- your mind just as bare as you tried to conjure up a creation. A gallery had asked you to take part in a exhibition, the theme was love. You had a lot of it in your life but you weren't sure how to convey something so intimate and personal to you.

Your bedroom had transformed into your studio over the years- as well as the rest of the flat. Paints, brushes, palettes, pencils and pens were scattered practically everywhere and your work was kissing the walls. Brian loved your work- it was actually how the two of you first met.

He spotted you taking one of your paintings to Freddie and Roger's stall in Kensington. Fred always gushed how much of a fan he was of your work and how well it sold. You had arrived with a piece you had mentally had named as 'A view from earth'. It transformed from light blue to black with a lit up London at the bottom as the city accepted the fact that night was fast approaching. You were looking up to the sky above and painted what you could see of space from your back garden. The canvas was filled with little bursts of white, yellow, lilac and red paint to represent stars.

Brian saw it and almost audibly gasped at how stunning it was. "Surely you aren't just giving it to them?" He asked. You had only heard Brian's named mentioned every now and then but hadn't physically met him until you saw him at the stall.

You shrugged a shoulder "Why not? We split the money when it's sold."

"Yeah but," Brian motioned at it wildly and passionately "This should be in the National Gallery or the V&A!" Your expression softened and your smile spread from ear to ear.

"You think so?" You asked in a small voice, you had praise before but the way Brian spoke about your work made your heart skip a beat.

"Yeah!" He grinned, now looking more at you than the painting "It's...beautiful." Although, he wasn't really referencing your painting at this point. He snapped back into reality "How much for it? I'd like it. £300?" You, Roger and Freddie all went wide-eyed.

"Yes!" Roger went to take the money from Brian's hand but you were quick to swat his hand away.

"No!" You glared at Roger before turning to Brian. "For you it's free."

The three boys looked at you as if you had grown a second head. "No, no, no! You've got to take something for it. It's incredible!"

You looked to the painting and then to Brian, a smirk forming on your face. "Alright then how about this- I give you the painting and you take me on a date." Brian could never refuse that offer.

"Deal."

Back in your bedroom, you moved the canvas to different places. If you moved it to a spot where the light was different or spotted something, you were hoping to get some inspiration. You placed the canvas on the floor and sighed before sitting beside it then putting your head in your hands. You didn't even hear the front door open but you soon heard Brian call out for you. "In the bedroom, Bri!"

"Hey, you okay?" He asked, shaking off his jacket. He could smell fresh paint and spotted a new flower painting drying in the corner.

You looked up and sighed before lying down on the floor. "Just stuck."

'Just stuck' were two words Brian dreaded to hear you utter. Sometimes you'd be up all night trying to find some inspiration and Brian would always worry that you were going to burn yourself out. He looked between you and the blank canvas on the bed. "What's the subject?"

"Love." You simplistically replied. "For the gallery exhibition."

Brian walked over and lay down beside you "What are you thinking?" He turned his head to look at you.

You mirrored his action and smiled. "Everything." You whispered "Especially when I look at you." Brian blushed and gently pecked your lips. "That's why it's so difficult to think of something to paint- there's too much going on in my head and I'm finding myself drawing a blank." You sat up and ran a hand through your hair, you had bits of dried paint stuck to your skin. Bringing your knees up to your chest, you wrapped your arms around them and looked down to Brian. "How was your day?"

"Better now that I'm beside you." He boyishly smirked and you playfully rolled your eyes. "I can see you thinking..." he whispered while his hands found themselves rubbing soothing circles over your tense back. He was still lying on the floor "Do you want to paint it out on me before using the canvas?"

As soon as he asked you nodded with a thankful grin. Brian was your biggest inspiration. His smile, his eyes, his nature, his amazement and wonder for space and everything beyond always lit a fire of inspiration inside you. He was more than happy to let you paint out an idea on him before your brush touched canvas.

So he was your canvas. Or rather, his bare back became your canvas.

He sat up and took his top off and grabbed a pillow while you grabbed your supplies. He lay face down on the floor and you sat crosslegged beside him. You passed him a hair bobble so you wouldn't get any paint in his hair- it was always a beautifully odd sight seeing him with his hair tied back. He gasped feeling a stroke of cold paint touch his back. He turned his head to watch you. Watch each intricate eyebrow crease and raise or see an idea burst in your head that would soon make an expression on your face. You were a moving piece of art in his eyes.

A masterpiece.

He watched you bob your head back and forth before you stroked the brush right down the centre of his back. Brian couldn't help but let out a relaxed moan- it was like he was getting a massage. "Feel good?"

"You always make me feel good," he murmured with shut eyes. Brian was in a blissful bubble- it was pure relaxation. "Can I get a kiss?" He asked.

You had done a fair amount on his back, a mix of bold reds and pinks and yellow- as well as a few other colours. You put down your brush and Brian raised his head a little to meet you halfway. You grinned and cupped his face with paint kissed fingers, smearing a little on his face by accident. That only encouraged Brian to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip like a brush against a canvas. As soon as his tongue slipped into your mouth you let out a soft moan. Brian reached down and gripped your hip before gently pushing you to lie down. You lay down allowing him to get on top of you and making the passionate kiss even more wild.

Brian tugged at your jumper and you put your arms above your head so he could pull it off. He kept his eyes locked with yours, freckles of paint were scattered over your cheeks and noise. He groaned at your bare torso "No bra?" He said almost teasingly. "So beautiful..." he murmured kissing down your neck and your breastbone before twirling his tongue over your nipple and pressing open kisses to your breasts. You moaned and arched your back, silently encouraging him to continue- which he did. Brian grabbed a handful and almost whimpered in delight at the noises you were making.

Brian's lips found yours again before he sat up on his knees, then standing and pulling you up off the floor. He cupped your face and pressed delicate kisses over your lips and cheeks. "Brian," you sweetly murmured with a growing grin "I need you."

"I'm all yours, Y/N." He passionately locked lips with you and fell onto your crisp, white linen bedsheets. In the moment of heat, you completely forgotten about his painted back. You pulled back to catch your breath and stood up, peeling off your jeans and underwear. No matter how many times Brian saw you stripped bare, it always took his breath away. Brian sat up and traced the very tips of his fingers over your thighs and then over your hips and up to your waist. "You are a masterpiece." Brian was in a trance but managed to let you know that fact in soft and sincere tone.

You blushed and walked forward to hug him, his face was pressed against your stomach. You saw the bedsheets and sighed under your breath, but that didn't matter right now. So what if your night was going to get a little messy?

You gasped and gripped his shoulders tightly feeling his fingers brush against your clit. You looked down and Brian looked up with a devilish smirk and slipped two fingers inside you and began to pump them in and out almost teasingly before he picked up his pace. Your face contorted as a wave of pure pleasure washed over you "Bri..." you moaned and felt your knees go weak.

He supported you by wrapping an arm around the back of your thighs "You're soaking, baby. Tell me what you want, tell me what you need." His gravelly voice sent a chill through your whole body.

You gasped, little bursts of oxygen quickly flew in and out of your lungs. "You Brian! I need you!" You moaned and looked down, managing to cup his yellow and red painted face. "I don't want to cum just yet...mhmm want you to be inside me."

Brian loudly moaned and slowly removed his fingers from you, drawing a long gasp and groan from you. "God, that's so fucking hot, baby. Okay. You want me- you got me." You stood back a little and Brian stood up, expertly taking off his belt and jeans with one hand while sucking off the remnants of you on his fingers on the other hand. "You taste so good." He smirked and kissed you, brushing his tongue against yours so you could have a taste.

You moved to lie down on the bed, Brian followed you with his eyes before gasping. You turned your head hearing his sudden burst of shock. "What? What is it?"

"Your bed! I've got paint all over it!" He pointed to it and you smiled.

"It's alright, Bri!" You reassured "Anyway, afterwards we can have a shower together..." you winked and in a blink of an eye, Brian had pulled his boxers off and pounced on you. Paint was getting absolutely everywhere. It was on both your arms, Brian's chest, your hip, in yours and Brian's hair- despite you tying it back. The sheer volume of his hair made the bobble snap and was now somewhere on your floor.

There was so much paint you were both convinced that soon there wouldn't be an inch of skin that wasn't spattered with the stuff. Your both giggled, Brian tried to hold you but you kept slipping out of his grasp.

Brian's laughter fizzled down while you continued to laugh. He was looking at the finest piece of art ever created. You.

"You are so beautiful," he pressed his lips to yours and managed to hold your hip before completely sheathing himself inside you. You were taking off guard slightly feeling him completely fill you up and loudly moaned right into his mouth. "The noises that leave those pretty lips of yours drive me fucking insane!" He growled and buckled his hips forcefully, your legs completely turned into jelly as your arms clung to Brian's back for dear life. "I hope I'm inspiring you," he cockily smirked.

"Yes! Fuck! Bri, baby! You are!" You moaned and let a string of curses fly out of your mouth when his pace picked up. He looked down on you almost hungrily, as if he'd never be satisfied until he had you crying out his name while cumming on his cock.

"What do you want, Y/N? Fucking tell me how good I make you feel!" He roughly kissed you, the paint colours swirling and merging together as you both rolled around in the bed.

"S-so good Brian! God!" You roughly groaned "Can I cum? Please?" You said, albeit very softly as all the air was vacant from your lungs and replaced with sheer bliss.

"Course you can, baby." He kissed you and cupped your cheek, longingly looking into your eyes. "Cum for me, let it all go." One of your legs wrapped itself around Brian's thighs while he held onto the thigh of your other leg as he drew an orgasm from you. Your whole body trembled under him as he fucked you through your high, his name loudly leaving your mouth.

You desperately caught your breath just as Brian stopped moving his hips. Tiredly grinning, you tucked some of his hair behind his ear. "Let me ride you," you murmured and softly kissed his lips, your fingers now resting just under his jawline.

"You're tired. I'm alright, honestly." He assured but he was still rock hard.

"Brian," you didn't have to push him that hard to get him onto his back. You straddled his legs, he could feel the heat and wetness radiating from you on his thighs- it just turned him on even more. "Do you want me to ride you? Do you want to cum all over me?" You asked, innocently batting your eyelashes.

He groaned and tightly swallowed "G-god y-yes!" His words trembled out his mouth. You took his length in one hand and guided him back into your dripping pussy. "F-fuck! Fucking hell!" He moaned in pure ecstasy while his head sunk deep into the sheets- but not as deep as he was inside you.

You leaned down and pulled his hair a little to expose more of his neck, letting your teeth sink into his sensitive skin, leaving a mark there to remind him tomorrow morning of what was happening right now. He sounded melodic. You wish you had every little sound and whine that left his mouth on a vinyl record to play to your hearts content. You sat back up and Brian dug his fingers into your hips, his own were thrusting into you and the sound of moaning and slapping skin was getting too much for Brian. "Bri...fuck!" You gasped.

"I'm so close...so close! Fuck!" His eyes screwed shut and his mouth made an 'O' shape as a heavenly scream left his mouth. He pulled out and streams of white hit against your painted skin- only adding to the messy masterpiece. The sound of heavy breathing filled the room and the smell of paint and sex lingered in the space the four walls had created around you. You smiled down at Brian. He was like a newly painted piece of artwork. "Shower?" He suggested with paint all over his face, strands of bubblegum pink in his dark hair.

"Most definitely!" You giggled and helped him up. Brian hugged you from behind as you made your way to your bathroom. You got into the shower together, helping each other get bits of paint off the places you couldn't reach and tenderly rubbing each other's worn out muscles. While Brian was religiously washing the paint out of his luscious locks, you wrapped yourself up in a fuzzy dressing gown and made yoursef and Brian some tea.

You took the cups back to your bedroom, you were going to make an attempt to clean up the mess the two of you had made. You placed down the cups and turned to the bed, raising a curious brow seeing the messy masterpiece on your linen. Brian walked through drying his hair with a towel while another rested on his hips. "Sorry about the bedsheets...I'll buy new-"

"No." You cut him off, still staring at the explosion of colour. "No...that's it." You whispered with a growing smile before looking up to a confused Brian. "I love it."

"What?" He crinkled his nose. "Messy, paint stained bedsheets?"

You shook your head and quickly unbuttoned the sheets from the duvet- which was just as stained- and put it over the canvas, creating a piece of art. "My piece on love! This is it!" You motioned at the sheet the two of you just had sex on that was now covering your blank canvas. It was dawning on Brian that you were going to let everyone see your sinned and stained bedsheets as part of an exhibition being held in the middle of a museum.

"Why?" He asked, not quite understanding the concept yet.

"Because that's what love is to me and to us! Hell! To anyone!" You passionately exclaimed. "Love is messy and unpredictable and things merging together!" You gestured your hands at the paint soaked sheets. Brian felt his heart wildly flutter. "It's untameable, unpredictable, it's something you can't imagine because it just happens!" You lightly chuckled. "It's chaotic, funny, something that you tilt your head back and forth from side to side at while looking at it in wonder! It makes you smile, brings tears to your eyes! It makes you feel every emotion and others that you didn't even know existed inside of you. It's...It's...beautiful." You looked over at Brian who had tears in his eyes. "Nothing short of a masterpiece."

"Just like the woman who created it," Brian kissed you while admiring the work.

"And the man who helped me create it...who inspired me." You smirked and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck while Brian's wrapped around your waist, picking you up a little off the floor.

"Truly a unique piece of art..." Brian winked.

You looked at it again "Nothing but pure, raw, passionate love."

•••

"What's the piece called?" Roger asked, squinting his eyes at the piece of art on the wall.

"'The mess caused by love'," you smiled and looked at Brian who had a soft smile on his face. "What do you think?" Roger, along with Freddie, Jim and John all murmured positively. They had came along to support you on the opening night of the exhibition at the museum.

"I think it's amazing," Brian leaned down and perched his chin on your shoulder before you turned and shared a small kiss.

"Y/N!" George, the artistic director and curator of the exhibition, approached you. Brian stood back a little so you could give the man a quick hug. "Marvellous piece! It's one of the best I've seen! It's simply exquisite!" He gushed. "How did you get the inspiration for this marvellous work of art?"

You and Brian both glanced at each other "Well it just really...came to me." Brian had to turn away and restrain himself from bursting into a fit of giggles at your appropriate yet inappropriate pun.

"Well I absolutely love it! Thank you for taking part! I'll see you later!" George waved and left to speak to more artists, the boys disappeared to look at the rest of the exhibition.

Brian wrapped his arm around your shoulders "Very funny," he smirked and kissed your forehead. He then looked up to your sheet on the canvas on the wall. The sheet that he had slept on countless of times. The sheet that he had tickled you on. The sheet that he had made love to you on...multiple times. The sheet where he held you in his arms after a rough day. To the world it was a piece of colourful art- people could interpret it however they wanted. But to you and Brian, it was so much more. "You know, that's a work of art..." Brian turned to you and you looked up to meet his gaze. "But you, Y/N Y/L/N, are a masterpiece."

———————–————

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girlafraidinacoma · 5 years

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IN THE LAP OF THE GODS Ch.2:

Summary: What do you get when you mix a tight-knit art community, young, hot-blooded twenty-something university students and good old-fashioned British Rock & Roll? Probably the next best hope for art and music that generation has to offer. With her friends’ band skyrocketing to fame, what exactly does a girl do when she suddenly finds herself sitting in the lap of the gods? The answer: do the only thing she can do, rise to the occasion of course!

Pairing: Gwilym Lee!Brian May x Original Female Character [chill guys, this WILL be a Bri fic…eventually].

Warnings: swearing, a very dramatic Freddie, Rog has a bit of a moment with a pastry...

Words: 2.2k +

Author’s Note: Chapter 2, Baby! I hope you guys enjoy it, and pls feel free to comment, reblog or leave a like if ya feel like it!

Kind of AU, contains both elements from real life and the Bo Rhap universe, so imagine whoever you prefer whether they be the real thing or the Bo Rhap Boys–be free.

Link to the Ao3 fic!

Chapter Playlist:

Chapter Two - That One Time When Fred Went Out for Coffee Or, Why Being a Young Entrepreneur is Harder than You Think

Kensington, 1969.

Out of breath and flushed pink, a young woman strode inside a musty little stall in Kensington Market, the shop bell giving a faint sort of ding upon her entrance. Freddie, who was quietly cataloguing their inventory in a faded blue balance book, smiled when he looked up to greet his friend.

“Wyn Clemens! You’ve come to visit me.” Fred said, ecstatically skipping his way to her from behind the counter before hugging her shoulders.

The girl made quick work of untangling the woolen scarf she had wrapped several times around her neck and mouth, placing that and her coat on the hook by the door.

“I swear I’ve gone up and down the place twice and both times I’ve managed to miss you entirely! Blimey, I didn’t think it was this small.” Her eyes scanned the darkened interior.

Currently their stall was nondescript, tucked away in between a carpet wholesaler and a shoe repair place, hidden away amongst the plethora of other stalls just like it. Cozy was one word for it, cramped was another, more accurate descriptor. Really, it was more of a booth. There they sold various garments and accessories to clothe the young bohemians, rockers, mods, punks, hippies and everyone in between who seemed to frequent the market there. Their shop was manned and looked after by Freddie and his friend Roger, and only by them, which was why, while their inventory was not exactly vast, it did quite literally seem to swallow the entire place in velvet, faux fur, leather, and brocade.

“Hey!” someone yelled in indignation, “This is a very fine establishment we run here, I’ll have you know!” A blonde head emerged from the back of the shop, a little area sectioned off by a dark curtain. It hid a tall, narrow mirror and served as both their stock room and fitting room.

The girl raised her eyebrows, feeling slightly sheepish at having offended this new person. “Wyn, this is Roger, the friend of mine I’ve been telling you about. He runs this dismal dispensary with me.” He said, not looking behind him as he gestured his head towards the blonde’s general direction. “Rog, this lovely creature you see before you is my new friend, Wyn.”

“Ah, the Ealing bird. Well, I suppose I could let that slight go for your pretty face. The name’s Roger Taylor, very nice to meet you, love.” He gave her his hand to shake, his lips upturned in a smirk.

“Careful there, Rog.” Freddie reminded him, which earned him a mischievous look from the blonde.

“Wyn,” the girl announced, unfazed by Roger’s cheesy smile, “I’ve come bearing gifts!”

“Ooh! Gimme! Gimme!” Freddie cried happily, his hands making grabbing motions all the while.

Wyn tutted at his antics shortly before presenting him a brown paper bag. “I thought it would cheer you up, while you’re stuck here.”

Freddie opened the bag and what he found there nearly brought him to tears. The bag was filled with fresh pastries still warm to the touch as he poked his nose inside and took a long whiff. He placed it on the counter before examining the goodies one by one, a hungry Roger joining his side. “You do care, Wyn! It’s just like Christmas! And here I thought everyone had forgotten about me. It feels like I haven’t seen the sunlight in days.”

“Weeks, really,” Roger added mournfully, before stuffing his mouth full of pastry. They had both been cooped inside their store trying to peddle their wares since the weekend and it was now Tuesday afternoon.

Freddie had a dramatic faraway look in his eye, his mouth shaped in a forlorn ‘O’ before finally snapping out of it. God, Wyn thought, he really should have been in theatre.

“C’mon then Wyn, tell us about all the changes in the outside world,” Fred was prattling away again, “Is dear old Liz still on the throne? How about Coronation Street, is it still playing? And what about tie-dye? Are people still wearing tie-dye?”

There was a quiet moan of “Oh Jesus, that’s the spot.” that came from Roger as he polished off an apricot danish.

Wyn gave the two of them a fond chuckle, trying to ignore the ridiculous sounds of ecstasy from the blonde as he delved into a croissant. “Let’s see,” the girl gave a pause for dramatic effect, “Yes, God forbid anyone else who’s set their eyes on that chair. Everybody knows Coronation Street is for ever. And it brings me to tears just thinking about it, but yes, unfortunately, the tie-dye lives on.”

“I knew it! It’s useless, Rog.” Freddie shouted, calling Roger’s attention. “Just bury me in these fur stoles. Even if they’re not real at least I’ll be kept warm and they haven’t assaulted anyone’s retinas.” He had trudged over to a rack of miscellaneous animal coats and stoles and buried his face in them. His further rant became muffled and unintelligible as he cried into the mass of faux fur.

“How long has he been like this?” The girl turned to the blonde with a worried look.

“On and off since Saturday,” he informed her, brushing stray crumbs from his mouth. “We’ve hardly sold anything.”

“This is no good, come on Fred. You just sit down, I’ll go out and grab us a couple of coffees and come straight back.”

Freddie perked up upon hearing this and was almost back to his usual spirits. “I have an idea, can I go get the coffees instead, darling? I want to go outside, I want to hear the birds chirping and smell that London smog. Maybe that old lady from the fruit and veg stall could yell at me, that would really get me going.”

“Alright Fred,” she said with a comforting smile, pouring into his open palm a handful of coins. “Happy hunting.”

Freddie had taken off so fast he had forgotten to bring his jacket which he left still hung up on the door.

“That’s probably the happiest I’ve seen him all weekend,” Roger said, wistful.

“If he’s happy, then I’ve done my job.”

Wyn had started to look the clothing racks, her fingers stroking the garments in fascination. She also took out two or three items she had liked, inspecting them fully before shaking her head and putting them away, Roger meanwhile stood beside her giving his opinion on them. Soon he was entertaining her by spinning little yarns about several pieces, how they acquired them, whom they were worn by, all made up but increasingly fantastic.

“You looking for anything in particular, love?”

“Not really, whatever catches my fancy, I suppose.”

“How about now,” he said as he had stood in front of her, hands on his waist and a twinkle in his eye, “Do I catch your fancy?”

“I’m in the market for clothes today, Roger, not a boyfriend.”

“Who said anything about a boyfriend?”

“Uh-huh. Maybe some other time, Taylor.”

“Alright, alright.” he said, pacifying her. “Something to wear then. Something that will work for your figure?”

“I’d never be opposed to looking good.”

Roger was still flirting with her, but he also appeared to have a clear focus now, he was a man on a mission to find her something she could be persuaded into buying. “Do you like wearing patterns?”

“I’d give it a go.”

“How about colour?”

“Love them.”

“Any you’re partial to?”

“Every colour of the rainbow!”

Roger scoffed playfully in exasperation, she really was no help, but he enjoyed her company. “I think I have just the thing for you,” Rog said with a snap of his fingers before darting behind their makeshift stock room/ fitting area. He came back about a minute later with a frock on a plastic hanger.

What he presented her with was a white and green houndstooth dress in the mod style which had a black peter-pan collar and a short mini-skirt. Wyn let out a pleased hum, “I like the way you think, Taylor.”

Roger barked a laugh though he seemed to glow in praise, “That might be the first time a woman has said that to me.” He reached into his pocket and fished out a packet of smokes and a lighter. “Go on, then. Try it on.” He urged her, pushing her behind the curtain and sticking a cigarette between his lips.

Roger sported a boyish charm, all buoyancy and pent-up energy. Wyn thought it was ironic the way that he was blessed with the looks of a cherub by Raphael, yet flirted like a devil. It was little wonder Freddie had warned her about him when the topic of his friends came into conversation. Before she could wrestle the corduroy off her legs Roger’s hand had slipped in between the partition, throwing a pair of shoes at her.

“Black gogos? Oh, you really must be out to get me. I’m going to freeze out there.”

“You’re just fitting them on!” The voice behind the curtain replied. “You don’t have to wear them out…You don’t have to wear anything at all.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Just saying.”

A couple of minutes later she stepped out from behind the curtains, smoothing down the dress where it wrinkled a bit in her midsection. “What do you think?” she asked, striking a pose.

Roger took another large puff from his half-finished cigarette before putting it down on the ashtray on the counter. He began to sing lowly as he drew near to her, “Is there anybody going to listen to my story, all about the girl who came to stay?” There was another cheesy grin on his face as he took Wyn’s hand abruptly and led her into an impromptu slow-dance. “She’s the kind of girl you want so much it makes you sorry. Still, you don’t regret a single day. Ah, girl,” he sung as he spun her.

Wyn smiled, “I’m going to take that answer as a ‘yes’, but I wouldn’t know how I’d wear it though, my hair…”

“You could wear it swept back, or up.” Roger suggested, now extremely close. He removed his left hand from her hip and used it to gather her thick hair up and away from her face, fingers grazing the back of her neck.

Wyn cleared her throat, her cheeks and neck heating. “You think Fred will let me have this for cheap if I asked nicely?”

“I think if you asked nicely, he’d let you have the whole shop.”

“It’s probably costing him more to run it at this point.”

“Us both.”

The two broke out into a fit of laughter, not even acknowledging the customer who had just walked into the shop.

“Okay, Rubber Soul. So these are the kinds of guerilla tactics you’d stoop to for a sale?” Blushing furiously, Wyn pushed away from him when they finished their dance, choosing to hoist herself up onto the counter next to her bag of sweets.

“Only the best service to our most important clientele.” he said through half-lidded eyes.

“How much for this?” a voice said from behind them.

Roger groaned in annoyance having forgotten the presence of this third person. It was a shame Fred still hadn’t come back, that way he could have dealt with this new nuisance while Roger turned his attention to the girl in front of him. Rog barely spared him a glance as the man held up the garment in question. “Seven pounds.”

Wyn watched the interaction with great amusement.

“Five quid.” the man tried to haggle.

“Seven.”

“This button’s loose, five and five pence.”

“Six if you leave here now.”

“You’re fleecing me.” the man whined handing Roger the money with reluctance.

“Actually, that’s crushed velvet.” said Roger with a cool, impassive grace, plucking his cigarette from the ashtray and taking a puff.

Slipping on his new jacket, the man set off grumbling, nearly bumping into Freddie who narrowly avoided him, carrying a tray of hot coffees in styro cups.

“Took you awhile Fred,” Roger called, leaning against the counter and smoking casually.

Freddie placed the coffees down on a bench by the window. “Roger,” he began slowly with a disgruntled look in his eye. “Was that man just now, wearing my coat?”

“Huh?” this alerted Roger somewhat, he had stopped what he was doing. His eyes grew large as he looked to Freddie and back down at the crumpled note and small coin in his palm.

“Rog, you absolute pillock, did you sell my coat?”

“...Fuck.”

As quick as a bolt Fred had crossed the room in two strides, snatched the money right out of Roger’s grasp and ran back out the door. Freddie ran after the man who bought his beloved jacket, shouting and swearing like a madman all the way.

At the end of the day, Wyn had felt so guilty she ended up paying for her things in full. She had no regrets though. Sure she was down a couple of pounds, but she had managed to get herself a great fitting dress, and a killer pair of boots, not to mention the favour of the infamous Roger Taylor -- a feat she hoped she had managed with all her dignity intact. Or at least she hoped.

#queen #bo rhap #bohemian rhapsody #brian may #brian may x original character #gwilym lee #freddie mercury #roger taylor #rami malek #ben hardy #in the lap of the gods #itlotg fic #bohemian rhapsody movie

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