#this was meant to be a silly fic and instead it was just ‘freddys very not good halloween’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silentexplorer18 · 4 years

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Ice Water: A Fred Weasley Short

Pairing: Fred Weasley / Reader*

*(This shouldn’t have any gender defining attributes to the reader so hopefully everyone can read it comfortably! Let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: Pranks run cold and tempers run hot over the summer, it seems. Through it all, you and Fred manage to make amends.

Warnings: A little bit of arguing, but not much.

Word Count: 2,200+

Note: This was written for @kalimagik‘s A Very Harry Potter Summer! I can’t even begin to thank @kalimagik enough for letting me take part in such a wonderful event! I’m so excited to read all the other amazing fics that @hufflefluff-writer is compiling onto the event’s masterlist! To any of my followers in search of more HP content, I highly recommend checking out the writers on that masterlist! :) As for my fic, my prompt was ice cubes (for August 8th), and hopefully I’ve written something that’ll satisfy everyone’s Fred Weasley desires! I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

Read it Here on AO3

Your forehead was sticky with sweat, beads slowly dribbling down your temples. The heat was suffocating, but you were far from giving up on the task at hand.

Another weed. Another hole. Snipping back another branch of Molly’s unruly rose bush. Nudge another worm into the freshly dug dirt, away from the mountain of weeds yet to be pulled.

It was the least you could do, really, straighten up Molly’s unruly garden as thanks for letting you stay with the twins over the summer. Although you were a relatively good influence on the boys – infinitely kind to their mother, at least – and a sweet person to have around, your affinity for pranks and adventures married with the twins’ frighteningly well and ended in more than a few explosions and messes.

So making it up to Molly really was the least you could do. And before she came home from afternoon tea, you were determined to finish reviving the neglected portions of her garden. While her herbs and front walkway looked divine, her back garden had been abandoned over the years as both the Weasley family and subsequent parental demands had grown; hopefully now with all her children in school, she’d have a little more time to enjoy the full breadth of her yard’s offerings. Hopefully your efforts would kick start that process a little.

However, it was hot. Miserably so. And each movement made a fresh layer of sweat prickle across your skin and dampen your shirt. That was why, you suspected, the twins had opted to stay inside and work on their miniature lion fireworks (a new Gryffindor staple) over helping you pull weeds.

Well, that was probably part of the reason.

The other part Fred just so happened to be pondering a few meters away inside the house. Maybe he’d started it, but you’d certainly retaliated with fervor, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it now.

A week earlier.

It had been hot. The sweltering kind of hot that makes the head heavy and the skin slick. To Freddie, it was the perfect time for a prank to raise the spirits. However, he’d made you the unwitting target of his prank; a mistake.

You were outside with Ginny playing quidditch on a break from firework formulating when Fred had spotted you outside the window. Panting from the heat, you’d spiraled back toward the ground, fanning yourself in the hopes of finding a little relief from the hot, stagnant air.

Seeing you standing there unassuming with your back to the door lit an excitement in Fred’s belly. It had been ages since he’d pranked you; tensions had been running high as of late with the multiple failed attempts he and George had experienced with their fireworks. But a prank! That would certainly brighten his day with a bit of fun!

Filling a glass with water and some ice, he snuck out the door, creeping behind the bushes, through the overgrowth in your direction. Light on his feet and you too hot to be on guard, it was easy for him to sneak up behind you, an excited grin curling the corners of his lips. Ginny was zipping laps around the garden, and your eyes lazily followed her. You’d never suspect someone was creeping up behind you.

With only a bush between you, he crouched, waiting for Ginny to move a little farther, turn the other way. One loop… two… and… gotcha!

Jumping from his hiding spot, he splashed the ice water down your neck, watching with an evil smile as the cubes slipped down the collar of your shirt and soaked the fabric across your back.

“Fred!” you gasped, glaring as you shook the ice out from under your clothes. Although your glare was stern, it was mostly from annoyance. You weren’t angry at him, and he knew that. He knew that you wouldn’t truly be angry at him even before he’d left the kitchen. You always forgave him for the silly pranks.

However, one thing he forgot is that when you feel bored, you don’t forgive. Not really. Instead you get revenge.

And as nice as it would’ve been for that revenge to just be the playful grin that erupted from your face as you chased him around the yard for an innocent – not at all wet – hug, that certainly wasn’t the level of revenge you were planning on getting.

While he watched you from inside the kitchen, skirting behind the window curtain, your mind lingered on the revenge and the aftermath of said revenge that occurred a few days later. Great minds think alike, but can occasionally have terrible timing.

Half a week earlier.

You hadn’t been particularly cross with Freddie following the events that transpired. However, you were keeping a careful eye out for a moment to enact revenge. That moment presented itself a few days later.

Taking an afternoon nap hadn’t been part of your plan, but the melody trickling from Ginny’s radio lulled you to sleep with ease. When you woke, the sun was low in the afternoon sky and the house was relatively empty. Wandering down to the kitchen, you found the twins outside.

Though you couldn’t tell at the time, they were kneeling before a few fireworks containers, and what you’d missed was the bickering that had started between the brothers when the first two formula attempts were lit and, unfortunately, failed. They’d intended to create small roaring lions that would captivate the audience, but instead the first firework resulted in a blob of sparks and the second attempt had misfired completely. But you couldn’t possibly have guessed they were having such a terrible day when you noticed them hunched in the garden, two fiery mops of red hair glowing in the afternoon sun. They looked warm, and you realized it was the perfect opportunity to help Freddie cool off in the same gracious manner he’d helped you.

Procuring a tall glass of ice water, you snuck out the back door and quietly maneuvered through the unruly shrubbery. They were several meters away, and you crept through the garden out of earshot, approaching slowly and steadily.

“Bloody hell, George,” Fred mumbled, adjusting the last firework in front of him. “I thought we’d nailed the schematics on the first one.”

George sighed. “Let’s just try the last one. If it doesn’t work better than the first one, we’ll start with those designs and try to fix it.”

He nodded, reaching out to adjust the small tube again.

From your angle, you couldn’t see their faces or what they were doing; however, based on the dreadful color of their shirts, you could figure out who was who. Fred was kneeling in front of you, and you were ready to pounce.

Taking a steadying breath, you leapt out from behind the bush, dumping the water on Fred’s neck. George yelped in surprise, scrambling away from you, though the splash zone was primarily concentrated on his counterpart already.

The water splattered up into Fred’s hair and the ice followed the remaining water’s path trickling over his shoulders, down the front of his shirt. He was soaked, and you giggled as he shook his hair and attempted to brush the ice from his neck. From where you were standing, George was grinning, too, remembering the prank his brother had mentioned earlier in the week.

But Fred wasn’t laughing.

“Dammit!” He turned, fixing you with a glare. Unlike your reaction to his prank, he looked like he meant it. “That was our last prototype to test!”

Your gaze fell to the object in his hand, a tube of most likely ruined potion ingredients completely soaked with water. “Fred, I’m sorry,” you said, reaching out to take the firework. “We can fix it. I promise I’ll help.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he bit, yanking the hand with the firework away from you. “We’re out of potion ingredients and it took us weeks to make the ones we had.”

George took a step toward him. “It’ll be fine, mate. We know what we did wrong this time.”

“No we don’t,” he growled, sending you another glare. “We have no idea if this solution works or not.”

“Fred, I’m sorry,” you said, reaching out again to try to take the tube. Maybe there was a way you could fix it.

“Just leave me alone.” He whirled away, walking around the side of the house, clenched fists and defeated shoulders keeping you from following.

You were mad at Fred for yelling at you, but also understood why he was so frustrated. The firework building hadn’t been going very well - apparently things were much more difficult in miniature - and progress seemed to be lurking far beyond the horizon. You hadn’t meant to ruin one of their chances for success (and Fred knew that!), but you couldn’t shake the guilt in your chest that you hadn’t been helping them much with construction.

Over the next several days, Fred stayed stiff with you, more due to his own pride and frustrations than anything else. However, you tried to put that aside and help with the project at hand. Excelling in potions, you helped them develop a much better concoction to put in the fireworks; something easier to charm and provide the rich hues of red and gold they were looking for.

Sliding the filled tube in front of him, you gently kissed his cheek. “It’s all yours, Freddie. I hope it works better this time.” And without another word, you disappeared to Ginny’s room to get a good night’s sleep before the gargantuan task of cleaning out Molly’s back garden began the following morning.

From inside the house, he stood watching you, guilt eating away at his insides for getting cross with you in the first place. He loved you. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you; he hoped you knew that.

Sighing, he nibbled on the edge of his thumb, scratching his fingers along the faint stubble along his jaw. No matter what, you were always tackling something, persevering even if it meant doing so by yourself. You deserved better, and he had to find a way to make it up to you. But first he needed to make amends.

You rubbed your hand over your forehead again, attempting to wipe away a bit of the sweat before it trickled into your eyes. What a heatwave. What a summer. The dirt caked into your fingernails and the weeds stuck to your skin, but you were running out of time before Molly came home and you were determined to finish your task. With the hot sun beating down on your shoulders, though, you were quickly growing too hot and tired to keep going.

There was a rustle behind you, footsteps, and you shifted to find the source of the sound. You were met with a sheepish looking mop of red hair. Fred. Holding a cup.

He stopped beside you, nudging a pile of dirt with the toe of his shoe. “I’m sorry.” Your brow arched in surprise, and he chuckled at your face. “I was a git. A terrible one. I shouldn’t have let my temper get the better of me the other day. I was really disappointed about the fireworks, but that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry.” Thrusting the cup forward jerkily, he glanced down at it. “I bought a peace offering. You looked hot.”

You smiled a welcoming smile, the one that reminded him that no matter what, you’d always care. He let go of his breath, shoulders visibly relaxing knowing you weren’t upset with them. Then your smile morphed into something more mischievous, eyes growing bright as you stood, and worry lurched into his throat. “I looked hot, huh?” You reached into the glass of ice and popped one into your mouth, grabbing another to rub along the bare expanse of your wrist.

He gulped, blushing as he watched you. “Um, yeah. It’s warm out.”

“Yeah, it is.” You popped another cube in your mouth, grabbing two more to rub along your neck. The cool water dribbled against your skin, dripping against the collar of your tank top and running down your chest, disappearing under your shirt.

Was it getting even hotter out here or was it just him? His face felt as red as his hair. Merlin, you looked incredible. He still couldn’t believe he’d met you that day on the train to Hogwarts.

As the final bit of your ice cube melted over your neck, Fred reached into the glass and grabbed the last ice cube, popping it into his mouth.

“Hey!” you pouted, giving him a little push. “That was meant to be mine!”

“You want it?” he asked, speech slurring around the cube. He flashed the ice between his teeth, grinning. “Come and get it.”

You barely hesitated to jump forward, pressing your lips against his own. He stumbled, surprised and caught off balance by the sheer force of your kisses. His hands grasped around your sides, pulling you closer and steadying himself.

He nearly choked on the ice, more focused on you – your hands, your lips, your body, kissing you back – than anything else, but at the rate you were kissing him, it didn’t take very long for the ice to melt.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! :)

#averyharrypottersummer #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fic #silent writes

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ineloqueent · 4 years

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Starstruck: Part 12

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 12 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 11 / Part 13

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

Warnings: swearing

Historical Inaccuracies: N/A :)

Word Count: 5.3k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The three of you had sat in the hospital lobby for over four hours, without any news from the outside world— or from the inside world of the hospital, for that matter.

Roger had read magazines and dozed, whilst you and Brian had attempted to keep yourselves entertained. You’d done this by various means, from trying to see who could name the most Beatles songs, wandering about, discussing your progress in guitar and his lack of progress with songs for Queen’s new album, to making up backstories for various strangers that passed through the room.

Your particular favourite backstory, which may have been your favourite simply for the fact that you were getting increasingly bored and sleepy, was the most recent one you and Brian had come up: it was for a woman in a pinstripe suit and bright-toned makeup, leading no less than three leash-less chihuahuas through the lobby.

“You see,” Brian had said, leaning over your armrest so that he could still hear you even when his words were quiet, “she’s actually an evil genius, and those are her little minions.”

At the seriousness in his voice, you’d actually giggled. “Oh, yes? And why is she at the hospital?”

Brian had rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously, Y/N, do those minions look human to you?”

You’d snorted. “No…”

“But they were, once,” he’d continued. “Until her arch nemesis—” Brian had nodded to a man wearing a pinstripe suit almost identical to that of the chihuahua woman— “tried to foil her evil plans.”

“By giving her minions dog biscuits?” you’d asked.

“Yes, exactly,” Brian had nudged your elbow. “Now she’s at the hospital to try to get them turned back into humans.”

“Why not just go to the bakery instead and get them real biscuits, to reverse the process?”

“Now that,” he’d shaken his curly head, “is beyond me. Maybe you’re the evil genius,” he winked.

“Don’t you know how to flatter a girl,” you’d poked his side. “Calling her evil, how sweet.”

“Will you two shut up?” Roger interrupted. “You’ve been all giggly for the past I don’t know how many hours.”

“Oh, live a little, Rog,” Brian tutted. “Have a giggle. Be a bit silly. There’s no one here for you to impress.”

“I really never thought the nerdy science chap would be telling me that,” Roger mumbled, rubbing his eyes beneath his sunglasses.

Then Deacy entered the room, looking more tired than the three of you put together. And if he looked this weary, you could only imagine how Veronica felt.

“John!” said Roger, and you all leapt up.

John raised a hand in something like a wave, but it wasn’t quite there. “You know,” he said, “if you ever find someone whose pain drains you as much as it drains them, marry them. You’re in love.” He gave a sigh, but it wasn’t one entirely of discontent. Perhaps a little tired, perhaps a little worn, but coming from a place of tenderness and affection.

“How’s it going, Deacy?” Brian asked with a sympathetic smile, patting his friend’s back.

“Alright, alright,” John sighed again. “Veronica’s fine. First labour’s always the worst, according to the books, but she’s doing well. The doctors say everything's okay, even if it will be a bit of a premature birth. They’re confident, and Ronnie’s quite capable of anything in the world, so why shouldn’t she be fine now as well?”

He was chattering, but he didn’t sound worried. Just tired, again, as though his thoughts were all running together, and along with them his words.

“That’s good to hear,” you said, and Deacy offered you a small smile.

“Well,” he addressed you all, “I think you’re okay to go home. Ronnie and I will be here a while yet, and I’m sure sitting around all day hasn’t helped anyone with their back problems.”

You narrowed your eyes. “How do you know about… our collective back problems?”

“Oh please,” said John, “take a look at your postures.” Instinctively, you and Brian both straightened up. “The only reason Roger doesn’t complain about back trouble is because he’s got shoulder pain that annoys him more. He’s got a masseuse back in London, you know.”

“Hey!” Roger said. “Deacy, I thought you said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Deacy blinked sleepily. “I’m tired, Roger, give me a break. And it’s not embarrassing, anyway. What’s embarrassing is the state of your hair.” Roger’s expression turned to one of horror. “Go home and fix it, will you?”

Roger grunted but said, “I can’t just leave you and Veronica here. You’ve no way of getting back.”

Deacy shrugged.

Roger thought a moment. “Tell you what, I’ll take Y/N and Brian home, and then I’ll come back.”

Deacy frowned. “Roger, we’ll probably be here for the whole night.”

“You’d do the same for me.”

John nodded to Roger. “Thank you.”

You gave Deacy a hug goodbye and wished him and Ronnie luck, then finally departed the hospital lobby for the car park.

“See, Brian?” said Roger as the three of you walked toward the bright red Alfa Romeo, which shone in the light of golden hour. “I am considerate.”

“I know, Roger.” Brian shook his head in your direction, and you laughed at Roger’s petulance.

The drive back to the farm was insignificant, for but the time Brian caught your eye in the rearview mirror.

Roger was saying something to you as the wind rushed through your hair and the sun gleamed brightly in the heavens, something about the rush that came with driving fast on an open road beneath an open sky, with no one and nothing to stop you. You hadn’t heard what Roger had said, but you imagined that the feeling he described was similar to how your heart fluttered when Brian smiled at you, for you, and only you.

You hadn’t heard Roger, you didn’t feel the leather of the seat beneath your legs, you couldn’t remember how to think, you weren’t part of this world.

The sun glittered, but it was only reflecting the light in Brian’s smile.

You were long away.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Back at the house, you were swarmed by the others as soon as you even made it into the driveway. A quick explanation meant that Heather hopped into the car with Roger and the two of them sped off, leaving you and Brian to tell the story in further detail.

Freddie had dutifully informed your parents of your whereabouts, and they greeted you alongside the others upon your return, Selkie leading the way with his fair coat and wagging tail.

“So, I take it everything is okay?” Freddie asked as you all sat around the table for a late evening meal.

“Yes,” said Brian, “everything’s fine. Veronica’s in labour, and it’s early, yes, but she’s doing alright—” Brian turned to you, raising a finger. “Don’t even think about it.”

You made a zipping motion across your lips, but Freddie had beaten you to the chase, belting out, “Doin’ alriiiight!”

“Well, we’re relieved,” said your dad. “We had no idea where you kids had got to, until Fred here told us—”

“Dad, no one here is younger than twenty-three.”

“I was just about to say that it seems you’re all perfectly capable, Y/N,” he smiled at you fondly. “Must have taken some initiative when Miss Veronica went into labour. I’m proud.”

“Actually,” you divulged, “I had no idea what to do. It was Brian who had initiative.”

There was a pause as everyone side-eyed your dad, waiting for his response. Obviously, the others had also picked up on his being at odds with Brian.

Your dad put down his cutlery, as your mum gave him a warning look.

“Well, Brian,” he began, and you saw Brian swallow.

But your dad said nothing more, only reached across the table to shake Brian’s hand.

You felt yourself smile.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

After tea was finished, five of you— and Selkie— had taken to the living room, armed with coffee and chocolates as the sun had left the sky for the night. Roadie-John, Crystal, and Mary had respectively declined coffee and gone to bed, which had left you to sit between Brian and Freddie on the sofa across from your parents.

You discussed whether Deacy and Ronnie’s child would be a girl or a boy, and what they were going to name the child. Then the conversation turned to music, and Brian and Freddie took the floor. Music talk turned to career talk, and your mum especially was fascinated by the astrophysics you and Brian studied.

“You never talk about it all, Y/N, sweetheart,” she said. “I wish you would. It’s all very interesting.”

“Does she not?” Brian asked with faint amusement. “Normally, Y/N can’t shut up about the stars. It’s wonderful to finally have someone around who understands what I’m blabbering on about.”

He’d said it with a little laugh, at himself, and he’d spoken quite casually, but your heart ached.

That was exactly how you felt about him, and to think that your presence was as liberating to him as his was to you… that was ineffable. The weight of his words made you feel light-headed, and you fought the urge to wrap your arms around him and never let him go, to gaze up at that soft smile of his and have it be because of you.

Your parents glanced at each other strangely, and Freddie was staring determinedly into the dregs of his coffee, as though keeping a grin from his face.

You were pretty sure they’d noticed the adoration in your eyes as you looked at Brian.

You shook your head slightly, stretching your legs. “Well, this has been nice. I think I’d better go get some sleep now, though.” You stood and made your way over to the other sofa and kissed your parents good night. “Good night, all.”

Freddie pouted. “No good night kiss for me?”

You laughed and went to kiss his cheek as well. “Good night, Freddie.”

“You’re not going to leave Brian as the only one without a kiss, are you?”

Your blush was immediate. You hoped no one could tell. The best thing would be to just comply with Freddie’s suggestion and downplay your feelings about it all, but you weren’t sure that you had that in you.

Your head was spinning, and you didn’t particularly like the idea of your parents seeing you kiss Brian, even if it was only on the cheek. Besides, you didn’t want to embarrass poor Brian, who likely would rather not have you kiss him at all.

But he set down his coffee cup on the side table and held out his hand.

Hesitantly, you stepped toward him, leaning down.

His fingers slid softly across your cheek, turning your head just a little, before you drank in the familiar scent of lilies and coffee and books and soap. You hardly breathed as your lips brushed his cheek, kissing him gently. You’d once read that a person’s lips were more sensitive than their fingertips, and you understood the truth behind this as tiny bits of stubble prickled beneath your mouth, where it pressed against Brian’s skin.

His fingertips whispered across your chin as you straightened up again, and you would have collapsed, if you’d had the energy to.

“Good night,” he said.

“You’re not going up yet?” you asked, perhaps a little breathlessly. “It’s late.”

His smile was there and gone again in the blink of an eye. “Not quite tired yet.”

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Are you ever,” he said. You startled, having almost forgotten that you and Brian were not alone in the room.

“Okay, um,” you tousled your hair with one hand, fumbling for words to excuse yourself from the room as quickly as possible. “Good night. Again.”

You cursed yourself and your useless brain before hurrying up the stairs and getting ready for bed in a rush.

Brushing your teeth, fixing your hair, closing the curtains, pulling on your pyjamas… You were trying not to think about how it had felt to kiss Brian. And how much you’d wished for to kiss his lips, instead of his cheek.

You didn’t want chaste. You wanted to be wrapped in his arms and pressed against him, and you wanted to be kissed senseless.

Your hands were shaking as you switched off your lamp, pulled up your covers around your shoulders. Your bed felt big and empty and you wished— No. No more. Go to sleep.

How the hell did one become infatuated with a person this quickly, anyway? How so easily, going from simply watching the sea, to leaping off of a cliff and into it..?

You turned from one side to the other, huffing irritatedly.

Infatuated, that was what you were. And it was beginning to suffocate you.

You threw off your duvet, feeling that the night was getting rather too warm.

Staring at the ceiling, changing your breathing pattern to 4-7-8, counting damned sheep, making up stories in your head— none of it gave you any relief. Your body was tired, but your mind was restless, and every thought led to Brian.

You glanced at your alarm clock. Midnight; you’d been tossing and turning for hours already. You groaned, knowing it was time to give up. Now there was only one way to fall asleep.

You were going to go stargazing.

You got up and dressed quietly in the dark, pulling a shawl around your shoulders and pushing your feet into your usual canvas shoes.

Tiptoeing down the stairs, you made it to the landing of the upstairs. You winced as the second-to-last step gave a particularly loud creak.

Then you stiffened.

There was someone else on the landing. Something else shifted amongst the usual shadows of the night.

“Y/N?”

You exhaled in relief, though a tingly feeling touched your sides at the sound of his voice. “Bri.”

“You’re up late,” he remarked, and the outline of his features came into view in the darkness of the hall.

“I could say the same about you.”

“Oh, but I’m always up late,” he said.

“Always?”

You thought he smiled. “I’m sure I’ve told you I’m an insomniac.”

You pressed your lips together. “I thought you were joking,” you admitted sheepishly.

Thankfully, Brian chuckled. “No, unfortunately not.”

“Oh.” You looked away, even though he couldn’t possibly see your shame in the dark.

“Do you…” he stopped, as though regretting his words.

“Do I what?” you asked, more quickly than you’d intended.

He gestured to the window. “I was going to go outside. To see if I could see the Alpha Capricornids. Do you want… do you want to come with me, seeing as you’re up anyway?”

“Brian, what kind of astrophysicist would say no to going to see a meteor shower?”

“Not you.” He was definitely smiling this time. “Come on.”

Outside, the two of you trekked toward a hill on the other side of the farm, searching for the best view of the open night sky.

Atop the hill you lay down, sighing. The sight of the stars already made you feel more at ease, though the source of your racing thoughts lay down beside you.

“Unlikely we’ll see much, since they’ll peak around the end of the month,” Brian murmured, with no need to raise his voice to be heard in the stillness of the night. “But we might be lucky.”

You turned your head toward him. “I won’t even mind. It’s beautiful out here.”

“Yeah,” he sighed wistfully, but contentedly too, his hands folded over his stomach. “The universe above us, around us, everywhere, and the sky as the canvas for it all.”

You had returned your gaze to the stars, but you could still see Brian’s pretty profile out of the corner of your eye. “Who said that?” you asked, thinking the quote quite philosophical, or poetic in the least.

His eyes twinkled as brilliantly as the stars. “Me. Why, are you impressed?”

You scoffed. “No,” you replied, but it was obvious even to yourself that you weren’t at all convincing.

“I don’t believe you,” he said.

“Fine, you’re a poet. Happy?”

“Immensely.”

“Well… good.”

“Good.”

You fell quiet, but Brian laughed. “You’re ridiculous,” he said.

“No more than you are.”

“Alright, true.”

Silence permeated the air, but it wasn’t heavy, and it didn’t try to drown you. This silence was comfortable, and you didn’t feel the need to fill it with useless chatter. You breathed and the night breathed alongside you, and the silence was an ambience in itself as you slowly became more aware of the world around you, in terms beyond sound.

The stars became brighter as your eyes adjusted, the grass beneath you was plushy and dewy, the night air tasted crisp upon your tongue.

“What would it be like if we could see beyond the Earth’s atmosphere, see the stars, during the day?” you murmured.

Brain opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to think better of it. Only in his eyes were you offered the whisper of a smile.

He asked instead, “Do you think we’re alone, out here, on our little rock of a planet?”

“No,” you shook your head. “We can’t be. We can’t possibly be.”

“Is that lonely desperation talking, or genuine belief?”

“Lonely desperation?” you said. “What are you, my therapist?”

“I mean, do you believe that because you have to believe it for peace of mind, which I’d understand, because the universe is vast, to a frightening degree,” he elaborated, “or do you believe it, truly?”

“Truly,” you said, without pause. “We humans need to get it out of our heads that we’re so special. Of all the things that’ve happened in the universe, we can’t possibly fool ourselves into thinking that we’re the only intelligent life forms in the cosmos.”

His gaze met yours. “I believe that too.”

Then abruptly, his eyes flicked back up to the sky.

“There!” he said excitedly, pointing into the darkness above. Your line of sight followed his outstretched hand, and sure enough, little streaks of light emanated from about the constellation of Aquarius.

You gasped in wonder at the sight. You’d seen meteor shows before, shooting stars too, the alignment of planets, but never would the awe in you diminish.

“Oh,” you said, “it’s beautiful.”

“It is,” he hummed, sounding as dazed as you felt.

You looked over at him, and he smiled radiantly.

“How far away they must be,” you breathed.

“Terribly far away. Light years and light years. And from each other too. It must be lonely.”

“For the last time, Bri, if you were a star, you wouldn’t think of these things.”

“And yet,” he said, “you called me a star this afternoon, and being very clever, you must be right, but thus, that also makes me the expert on the loneliness of stars.”

You closed your mouth. His argument was solid.

“Touché,” you mumbled.

“A concession?” Brian said. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“You won’t. It’s night. Maybe you’ll never see morning.”

“Well then I hope this night lasts forever.”

Your heart stuttered.

Did he mean that? Would he stay here forever, with you?

Oh, pull yourself together! It was a hypothetical.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Brian bite his lip. “Listen, Y/N, I’ve got to tell you—”

But you didn’t want to hear what he had to tell you. You wanted the night to last forever.

“Maybe— maybe it could,” you said.

“What?”

“The night could last forever. Time dilation,” you blurted, being the science-obsessed person that you were.

“Oh. I don’t think Earth’s spinning fast enough for that. I know it’s not,” he reiterated.

“No, no, of course not,” you mumbled. “I just thought—” You really didn’t know what you had been thinking, except for the fact that you couldn’t think, because his hand had just brushed yours.

“If we were on a spaceship, though,” Brian went on, absently tapping his fingertips against your own. He didn’t notice how hard you were finding it to breathe. “Perhaps moving at the speed of light… Then we could employ the idea of relative clocks.”

You forced yourself to exhale, shudderingly. “One year could pass on the spaceship, and a hundred on Earth, so when we came back…” You trailed off. The idea of relative clocks in space really was intriguing, but again, you were struck by the loneliness of space. And how lonely it would be to return home.

Brian turned his head to look at you, and you were enamoured by his eyes.

“Everyone we knew would be dead and gone,” he finished your thought for you.

“Would make for a good story, though,” you rambled. “Coming back from travelling in space, I mean, not the whole thing about everyone dying.” You winced inwardly.

He stared at you and you couldn’t move. “A story…” Then suddenly, he sat up. “Y/N, you’re brilliant!”

“What?”

“Yes! A story— oh, that’s clever. Come on,” he stood. “The Alpha Capricornids will still be here tomorrow. But I’m forgetful, so I’ll forget this before then.”

“What?” you repeated, feeling more confused than ever.

“I— oh, never mind, I’ll explain, just— come on!” He took your hand and pulled you up, and before you knew it, you were sprinting down the hill with him, across the open fields beneath the open, starry sky. You couldn’t help but laugh as the air rushed around you, and Brian grinned as the curls flew about his face.

Finally, he slowed his pace as you made it up the path, toward the studio, and he stopped at the door, letting go of your hand to fish his key from his jacket pocket.

Inside, Brian rushed to pick up his guitar, not even remembering to switch on the lights. You went around the room, pulling lamp cords and flicking switches until everything was bathed in yellow light, and soon you beheld Brian sitting cross-legged on the floor, his back against the sofa.

You smiled, looking at him. His usual velvet jacket was discarded on the floor beside him, as well as his clogs, and he wore stripey rainbow socks that were ill-matched to the colour scheme of his also-stripey top. His acoustic guitar was in his lap, his notebook was open beside him, and he looked at ease, as though he’d spent hours sitting like this, rather than mere moments.

He was humming under his breath, and his fingers occasionally brushed across the strings of the guitar, testing a chord against the melody in his head. He stopped his humming and began from the beginning of the tune again, then stopped altogether, crossing something out in the notebook. When the pen he was using rolled out of his reach, he leaned to pick it back up, but only succeeded in toppling his guitar from his lap.

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

He looked up, innocence softening his features. “What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

He crossed his arms over his guitar. “Oh but there must have been something funny. Go on, I love a good joke. When it’s in good taste, that is.” He raised his eyebrows at you, but it only made your smile broaden.

“Nothing, really,” you said. “You’re sweet.”

You couldn’t believe you’d dared to say such a thing, something so close to the truth about your feelings toward him. The air itself seemed reluctant to move about you, as though it were holding its breath as much as you were holding yours.

Brian scoffed, but he glanced down at his lap, avoiding your eyes, and he touched his finger to the side of his nose. There it was again— you made him uncomfortable. Whether that was a terrible thing, in which you risked your friendship with Brian every time you were around him, or a good thing, in which you made him that kind of nervous, remained to be seen.

“Sweet,” he said, still not looking at you. “That’s… that’s hardly a compliment, is it?”

You frowned, sitting down in front of him, cross-legged as well. “What do you mean?”

“Sweet. You’d call a wine sweet if you were criticising it for being too sugary, or— or you’d say that a child was sweet for giving a valentine to the teacher he had a bit of a crush on. But sweet isn’t a compliment. It’s— it’s patronising.”

He finally met your eyes, and from the rapid pace at which his chest rose and fell beneath the ribbed cotton of his top, it was obvious this wasn’t the first time he’d been called ‘sweet’, and that he regarded the word, especially when applied to himself, with contempt.

“I’m sorry,” you said earnestly. He shook his head at your apology, but you continued. “But I’d call my friends sweet, too. You’re my friend, Bri.”

You reached for his hand, but his smile was tight when your fingers curled around his, nothing like earlier, when the two of you had raced down the hill and he’d held onto your hand almost like— almost like he hadn’t wanted to let go.

“Right. Yes.” He gave your hand a quick squeeze, then let go again.

You felt your shoulders sag. There was that word again. Friend. And this time, you’d brought it upon yourself.

But you refused to let this slip up ruin the lovely night you’d been having.

You shuffled over to sit beside him, leaning against the sofa. “So, what’re you writing?”

“A song about space.”

“What else would you write about?”

That earned you a smile, albeit a small one.

“When you said that one year could pass on a spaceship while a hundred went by on Earth…” He tapped his temple. “I heard this one line in my head. Part of a song.”

“What was it?”

Brain picked up his notebook and read, softly, “For so many years have gone, though I’m older but a year.”

You didn’t know if it was the lateness of the night, or if it was that you’d just been out stargazing with your best friend, or if it was simply your rose-tinted view of Brian Harold May, but those words incited in you such a wistful feeling of longing that you could have wept.

“Brian, that’s… that’s beautiful.”

“You think so?”

“Undeniably.”

A proper smile graced his lips, and if there was anything in the world more beautiful than his words, then it had to be his smile.

He slipped the notebook into your grasp, pointing an elegant finger to the page. “Look, I’ve got more ideas. What do you think?”

Upon the page were scrawled various lines, ones he had written not now, but on various earlier occasions, most of them penned hurriedly in his flowing handwriting so that they were almost impossible to read.

“Bit difficult to read,” you said honestly.

“Oh, yes, sorry about that.” He took the notebook and held it between the two of you. “For the Earth is old and grey, little darling we’ll away—”

You strung that together with one of the notes you had been able to read, “But my love, this cannot be.”

Brian’s mouth fell open, and he took up his pen and joined the two lines with an arrow. “Now, for so many years have gone, though I’m older but a year…”

“This one. Your mother’s eyes, from your eyes, cry to me.”

Brian gaped at you. “How— how did you do that? I’ve had most of those on that same page for weeks and weeks, and I’ve kept rearranging them, but they’ve never sounded like this.”

You waggled your fingers, “I’ve got the magic touch.”

“Oh, but you do,” he said ardently. “Any chance you’ve got chords to go with that, maybe in your back pocket or something?”

You shook your head. “Nope, sorry. I can’t do all the work for you, Bri.”

He tugged on a curl. “No, I suppose not.” He took up his guitar and began strumming again. Soon, he had a little chord progression going. It was quite impressive how quickly he’d made it up, but he was an artist, and art, you knew, came not necessarily from thinking, but from feeling, and the stars that night seemed to have brought Brian great feeling.

You sat quietly for a while as he alternated strumming patterns and mumbled unfinished lines. You wondered vaguely what the time was, but then halfway through the thought, it occurred to you that you did not very well care, and so you stopped thinking. Instead, you leaned your chin on your knees, which you had drawn to your chest, and watched Brian compose.

The art was there, in the pout of his lips, the set of his eyes, in how he held the guitar. The music flowed from him like light, and the guitar was but a medium. Brian had said that you had the magic touch, but perhaps that was only because he had touched you; he was magic on his own. Looking at him, you once again had the feeling that he did not belong to this world, but to some faraway realm, some place ethereal and made of stardust.

“What’s your favourite number?” Brian asked out of the blue.

You blinked. “Sorry?”

“Your favourite number?”

“Um…” Strange request. You answered slowly, “Thirty-nine..?”

“Hm,” he said, in something like approval. He resumed strumming, then added words. “In the year of ‘39…” He paused, setting his guitar on the floor and scribbling in the notebook. “Yes, I like that.”

“Thirty-nine?” you said with amusement.

“Well, I’ve got to credit your ideas for the song in some way, when it goes on the album.”

“This going on the album?”

You’d just influenced the writing of a Queen song?!

“Yep.”

You shook your head, pulling yourself together. “Brian, really, I just talked. Randomly. You wrote this, you’ve had the lines written down for ages. Just pick another number. I won’t be offended,” you laughed lightly.

“Absolutely not. Thirty-nine fits perfectly, and if you hadn’t gone up with me to that hill, this song would never have come into existence. I mean, really,” it was his turn to shake his head, “relative clocks. It’s brilliant. Wonderful.” He turned his head, smiling at you. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“For what?”

“For what, she says,” Brian scoffed. He wrapped an arm around you, leaning against you. Despite your surprise at the contact, you laid your head on his shoulder. “For being inspiring,” he murmured, his head against yours.

Perhaps you were drunk on sleeplessness, perhaps you were drunk on something else, but you felt giddy as Brian’s side pressed against yours, and as no alcohol had touched your lips this night, you knew that this was a matter of your being, rather than of your habits. Your giddiness, strangely, was accompanied by a wave of serenity that rushed through you like a sigh, and you nestled against Brian in contentment.

You’d always been taught that in life, one had to choose between safety and freedom, but sitting here with Brian, it was as though both were attainable, and existed in exuberant harmony, undisturbed by the doubt of the world around them.

The last thing you remembered of the night was a clock somewhere chiming three in the morning, and Brian tucking his velvety jacket around you as you yawned.

The last thought you had was a realisation: today was Brian’s birthday.

And he’d chosen to spend the first few hours of it with you.

Sleep wrapped its shadows around you, and you welcomed it happily.

“Happy birthday, Brian,” you whispered.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: i am fully aware that this was a bit of a filler chapter. but my oh my, have i got drama for you next week...

taglist: @melting-obelisks @stardust-killer-queen @hgmercury39 @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz @perriwiinkle @brianmays-hair @iamsuperconfusedallthetime-dead @im-an-adult-ish @ilikebigstucks @doing-albri @killer-queen-87 @n0-self-c0ntro1 @archaicmusings @cloudyyspace @annina-96 @assorted-random-main

crossed out tag would not take; i’m sorry!

Masterpost / Part 11 / Part 13

#tina's writing #starstruck #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #brian may x you #queen #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon #queen fanfiction #1975 #1970s #fic

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bubblyani · 4 years

Text

Temptation

(Freddie Jackson x Reader)

A Freddie Jackson One Shot

Request by: @97freaknik

Rating: Mature (NSFW)

Warnings: May-December Relationship, Swearing, Sexual Content.

Author’s Note: This was one unexpected sort of fic. And so the same applies to the ending. Hope y’all enjoy!!

The chilled cola managed to moisten your tongue and cool your throat with each sip you took. Summer had finally announced it’s arrival in London, and all seemed to have noticed it. “So...what did he say?” asked Kim Jackson, your best friend as she folded her legs on the settee.

Upon your first meeting, you made a great friend out of Kim in the very first year at University. The two of you grew so close, winning you the privilege of becoming a usual visitor at her home during the first summer break.

Shrugging your shoulders casually, you replied, “Well he said he liked me...” you continued, a confident aura surrounding you as you sat on the armchair across from her, “...he wanted to get a drink with me or...whatever”

The excitement in Kim’s eyes did reflect in yours. And she was surprised. “And...?” She asked. You curled your lip with squinted eyes. “Well.. what do you think?” You scoffed in an unimpressed tone. Kim laughed, shaking her head, “Y/N...you’re mental!” She exclaimed, “Harry is such a great bloke..”

You clicked your tongue, taking another sip, “...maybe ...but meh! Not my type...” “Oh yeah?” Your friend began, moving forward, “Then what is your type?” “I don’t know...” you laughed in a carefree manner, only to have that laughter die down slow. Especially the moment you saw him enter the kitchen.

Liar liar! you knew your type, you thought.

Suddenly, you cleared your throat, “What about you? What’s your type?” You asked her in kind.

Kim may have started talking at that moment. She may be going on about her type in detail. But it seemed quite difficult to keep your eyes on her when he was around.

The tattoos inked in his chiseled body managed to get it’s spotlight with the help of his wife beater and jeans. Plus, the chained necklace that adorned his neck and the bracelet that accompanied his wrist completed his ensemble. As the bottle cap flew out of the chilled beer, Freddie Jackson closed the refrigerator door. And there you were, staring at him from across the room, unable to control the heat that emitted strongly from your cheeks. For a second you realized his eyes caught yours. Your eyes widened.

Were you dreaming?

“Y/N?” You felt the coke can slip from your grasp the moment Kim’s loud voice brought you back. Gasps exited out of both of you as the remaining soda from the can spilt all over your top.

“Ah! Uhhh....” Struggling. You were struggling with words, bending down to pick up the now-emptied can.

Where did that confident aura run off to?

“What happened? You okay?” Kim asked, catching Freddie’s attention. As you saw him walk towards the settee from the corner of your eye, you really did not know how to answer that.

You merely laughed, nervously, for you left to do nothing but. The cheeks grew warmer the moment Freddie stood by the settee.

“Kim, What’s wrong ?” He asked.

“Y/N spilled her coke...”

“Aww...that’s too fucking bad, love..let me get ya another” he said gently, looking at you before moving towards the fridge.

Kim smiled at him,“Thanks dad”

Forcing a tight smile, You exhaled silently yet deeply. For reality struck you again with a bitter reminder.

You were desiring for your best friend’s father.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You knew it. From the very first encounter a few weeks ago, it was sealed in your body, mind and soul.

If it weren’t for his heroic rescue that one night at dinner, you surely would have been responsible for the damage of several plates dropped out of your hands. But in your defense, the slightest touch against his body turned you in to the clumsy self you longed to hide away.

“Easy there love, wouldn’t want to get hurt now, yeah?” Completely and unexpectedly mute, you swore you have made a fool out of yourself. But given the expression, it seemed he was quite amused to meet his eldest daughter’s best friend.

Ever since then, forming a fascination for him was out of your control. It was unbelievable how he fathered three children, including one your own age.

Fascination did not last. For it turned into undeniable attraction as time passed. He was handsome, You couldn’t help it. In fact, he was the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. At least it seemed that way for you.

With eyes like those, he had perfected his gaze to be something unforgettable. With lips so beautiful, they managed to haunt you even in your dreams. So much so you’d long to feel them on yours. Yes, you were fantasizing about them.

Kissing him would be an instant response the moment you’d see him in the midst of your sleep. And when you do, you would even find yourself waking up feeling satisfied, yet hungrier at the same time.

There would be some nights so daring, your hand would go so far as to explore yourself with nothing but him in mind. It was that sinful, and you knew it. Sometimes that hand would retract, but sometimes it will not. Because honestly, nobody needed to know.

The number of times you found yourself involuntarily longing to see him , could be countless. Silly excuses to meet your best friend, things suddenly forgotten or left behind. Butterflies suddenly would exist in your stomach every time you set foot at her place.

But somehow, those butterflies suddenly evolve into small earth shattering quakes in the heart when you realized he was not there at times. But whenever he was, whenever he conversed with you in short, whenever he smiled, and shared jokes, or even took your side when Kim teases you, you felt attraction progress into complete infatuation.

In your defense, you felt he treated you differently. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if he knew your little secret. For those gazes would turn intense in a flash as if. That was when you knew, how far your feelings have gone.

All this was unrequited of course, you knew it was never a possibility. After all, he was Kim’s father. And this was a secret you could never share with her. And being her father meant something else as well. Kim’s mother, Jackie Jackson, always had been less welcoming towards you and you could never figure out why. But you could tell there was not much love between her and him. Even if there was, it was forced.

I could do better, you’d find yourself thinking.

I could love him better. And still you knew, this was never possible.

But even with the bitter truth staring right at you in the face, your desire for him grew stronger by the day. Which included the longing to win him over somehow. It was silent, secretive, and deadly.

Even when you dug deeper, and heard stories about him, you were not frightened easy. Even with the guns, the drugs, the women, the money, you did not flinch.He was indeed Freddie Jackson, the notorious gangster.

And you were still infatuated by him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Kim! Kim!!!!”

With no answer from the bell, you knocked on the door frantically. Another day, and another silly excuse.

Finally, you heard footsteps approaching the door. The pacing made your heart skip a beat. You knew those steps, you had it carved in your mind with such detail.

“Well Hello Y/N...” Freddie Jackson greeted you softly, flashing his naughty smile as he opened the door. Wearing a printed short sleeved shirt, he appeared to look more handsome than ever before. You felt your mouth turn dry.

“Uh Hi...” you began, “...Mr. Jackson ...” involuntarily smiling back, you suddenly were short of breath “is um..Kim at home?”

“Ah! yeah sure, come in. I’ll go fetch her”

The living room was filled with his scent, mixed with a hint of tobacco. It made you feel at home. The record player called out for you, begging you to admire it, and the music it played. The music soothed you. It aroused you. Pressing your thighs together, you gingerly proceeded to roll up the waistband of your pleated short skirt, making it shorter than it was before.

“Ah...sorry love but...” you jumped by the sound of Freddie’s voice from afar, “...it looks like the family is out” his voice echoed ,“...sorry about that” “Oh no...” you blurt out,”it’s alright” chuckling, you added, “I can wait...” As if by chance, there you were, alone with him. Finally.

“Brilliant...” he replied with a cheery tone. The desperation in you thrived, tempting you to roll up your skirt higher until the hem almost covered your buttocks. You knew exactly what you were doing.

The moment you heard him approach the living room, you turned back to the record player. “Wow...” you began, confidence taking center stage as you bent forward to examine the record player “..this sounds so familiar” The humid air caressed your inner thighs. You knew he stood there, quite noticeably as you heard him exhale deeply with a chuckle of satisfaction by the sight of your curiosity and ‘unintended’ exposure. With a gleeful gasp, your eyes widened.

“Pink Floyd?” You asked, turning to him the moment ‘Hey You’ began to play. “Yeah yeah...not bad, love” he chuckled, settling himself on the settee, “Pink Floyd man I am, you know”

“That’s great...I love them too” you said excitedly, clearly stemming from the discovery of a mutual interest. For a moment, he was not Freddie Jackson, your best friend’s father. For a moment he was Freddie Jackson, the man you longed to impress. The man you wished you could seduce.

But suddenly, you didn’t know what to say anymore. There never was a moment with just the two of you alone before. Freddie did not utter a word. Truthfully, he seemed more occupied watching you with complete fascination instead. The way he stared, thoughts may have racing wild. Still you felt powerless, you didn’t want to come off as boring.

“Tattoos!”You accidentally blurted out, making him raise his eyebrows, “Uh your tattoos...they are pretty wicked” you said, clearing your throat.

“Oh yeah?” He said, sitting upright, “You’ve seen them?”

“Well, only a bit..” you replied nonchalantly, hands tied behind your back, “not...all” with a hint of shyness, walking over to him.

Forming his mischievous grin, Freddie began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt buttons, while forming a whisper, “Fancy a closer look?-”

“Yeah!” You paused, surprised at your over enthusiasm. “Well...go on then...” he purred, gesturing you to come sit, patting his thigh as an invitation.

Normally, if any other older man would suggest this, you’d furrow you’re brows with disgust. But this was no ordinary man.

Carefully, as he sat back, you settled across his lap. With buttocks and upper thighs brushing against his lap , you were secretly gleeful. You held your breath, as he took your hand in his, guiding your fingers over his exposed chest. Pulling his vest down, he watched you observe the intricate ink imprinted on his skin.

This was a dream, you thought.

“Wow...it’s beautiful” you breathed, for it was true. “Yeah it is...” he said, his eyes washing all over you. “Rock n Roll...” he continued, resting his other hand on your bare thigh, “...tattoos...” he added, voice booming to send tremors through your body, “...bad boys certainly tickle your fancy, innit?”

“I suppose...that’s my type” you said, grasping courage to look at him. And his face was merely a few centimeters away. “Oh yeah?” He asked, leaning in. His nose brushing against yours. “Yeah...” you replied, feeling that familiar heat emit from your cheeks in contrast to the chill his rings provided to your bare thighs.

So so close, it was your deepest, darkest fantasy come to life. And you asked yourself, what would you do?

Before you could answer, you felt him move forward, permitting you to freely do the same as both of your lips found each other.

It was not a dream anymore, You really were kissing Freddie Jackson. With the intense weight of his lips, you could tell he hungered for this. He knew. He certainly knew. It excited you. It motivated you. Taking his hand from your thigh, you felt brave. With no hesitation, you placed it over your right breast.

Except he took it away in an instant.

Slightly alarmed, you continued kissing him, yet with concern in mind. Was he playing with you? But when you felt that hand hurriedly pull your sweatshirt out of your skirt, you knew all was well. When that hand dug inside to unhook your bra, it got much better. Especially when that clever hand slithered under the loose undergarment to palm your bare breast with ease, sending new waves of pleasure through you.

The way he savored it showed in his hums on your lips. And it drove you insane. You longed to hear more. Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, you pulled him closer, moaning into the kiss.

There were so many things you wanted to ask him. So many things you wanted to hear from him. But at the same time, the last thing you wanted to do, was to part your lips from his luscious ones.

It came as a surprise as his hand left your breast, taking a firm hold of your knee, spreading your legs wide open. He did not take this lightly, and it was confirmed the moment his fingers began to stroke you. All the way from your pubic area right downwards, over the thin material of your panties. His fingers tickled you, they aroused you. Lifting yourself up with impatience, your lips parted his just so he could pull your panties down until it bunched around your knees.

“Fuck...” he inhaled pleasingly, peeping down at the sight of your exposed womanhood, “Look how wet you are...” he said, looking back at you. You blushed, unable to contain yourself by his glance. But when you felt him insert two digits into your dampened slit, the blushing indeed seemed like child’s play.

Hungry for your lips once more, Freddie resumed kissing you. All the while his fingers continued to enter and exit out of you in steady rhythm. You may be moaning, you may have been wincing in response. But you did not fail to cling on to him as it was your dear life.

Few minutes have passed, and still his lips felt fresh on yours. The feeling of a climax felt close, you were almost there. However, you groaned in desperation when his fingers suddenly left your opening. Pulling away, you wanted to beg. But his words stopped you.

“Come on...” Freddie breathed, his face looking serious as he frantically unbuckled his pants. A loud gasp left you the moment his manhood sprung out free from all constrains of clothing. You always thought a man like him should be well endowed. And he was, indeed. Strong, firm and thick. With your eyes fully indulging it, you were reminded of your inner walls drenched with need. Clearly, you were impatient to feel him inside you.

Whimpers, soft whimpers overflowed your lips as you sunk into his erect shaft. But like a perfect piece of a puzzle, it fitted in so well. And like one perfect unit, you held on to him as you began to move. The pleasure was simply indescribable. It was unbelievable. It was better than you imagined. In your dreams. In your fantasies.

Overwhelmed with arousal, you were at a trance; Grabbing his hands, you guided them back inside your shirt, placing them over your bare breasts once again. For you wanted to give nothing but your all. No holding back.

Freddie growled, pinching and pulling your nipples in response before he kissed you again. This time with much fervor. Pain infused with pleasure in equal measure, you moved faster. Connected by lips and bodies, You moved and you moved. Until your body gave in, until he pulled himself out and release was finally met.

All so quietly, and discreetly. Just as this sudden but eventual union was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Few days later)

You may have been walking, taking strides across the pavement, but your head was off somewhere else.

As if a record was on repeat, you couldn’t help but relive that wonderful moment with him. Nothing else occupied your thoughts. Nothing except for this. So much that you wondered whether you had to attend confession. You longed for your body to remember every minute. Every minute Freddie Jackson claimed you his on that settee.

“You alright lass?”

You blinked. Your father’s voice brought you back to reality. For a moment you really did forget he was there, accompanying you over to the convenient store on his way to work.

“Yeah...I’m fine” you said, stopping by the shop. Of course you were. But it was a state of mind you dared not share. How could you?

“Alright...” your father began, “I’ll see you in the evening then...”

Your eyes automatically caught the sight of a familiar face a few feet away. It almost managed to distract you.

Clearing your throat, you smiled. “Yes dad”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Entering the store, you suddenly forgot what you needed to buy. For your breathing grew fast, for that face that was oh-so-familiar felt quite nearby.

Fixing your hair casually, you greeted the store clerk before strutting out. You heard footsteps behind you as you heading into the abandoned alleyway. And for the first time you were not afraid. Quite the opposite to be frank.

The sudden tug of your hand made you turn with a happy gasp as Freddie Jackson pushed you against the brick wall, kissing you with immense passion.

When he pinned your hands above your head, when his desperate hands roamed about to fondle your breasts generously; when they lastly moved lower to pull you up from your buttocks, you felt as if you were being rewarded. Rewarded for keeping this secret.

“Fucking hell Y/N...” Freddie breathed, “I missed you...”

You could not believe your ears. It was only a few days. You were in bliss. He was your infatuation, and here he was in full reciprocation. It was heavenly.

You smiled into his lips, “Me too Mr. Jackson...ah!“ you cried softly, as he gently nibbled your earlobe.

“Uh huh...wrong answer” he chuckled.

“Sorry...Freddie” you corrected yourself, giving a shy smile. Calling him by his first name seemed arousing enough. Giggles followed soon after as he kissed you once again. Escaping into pleasure in secret was the challenge, but you certainly enjoyed it.

“Wait...” You said, pulling him away. You swore you felt someone watch you.

“What is it?”

“Mmm...nothing I just...never mind” shaking your head, you casually pulled him back to you, never tired of his lips on yours. Moaning into the kiss, Freddie kept his gaze affixed on you.

“Tonight ...” he reminded.

“Can’t wait....” you consented.

Hands finally parting, you excitedly made your way out of the alleyway as Freddie headed to the opposite direction. Your head was up on the clouds, anything felt possible.

Till you felt a tug on your hand once again. You chuckled, throwing your head back as you turned back.

“Ah..again? Fred-”

Except you felt a lump in your throat, the moment you realized it was not Freddie.

But it was your father instead. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(The next morning)

“Right...later Jimmy!”

“Right Fred...” With a small wave to his cousin, Freddie started the engine and began driving.

Morning had dawned, and Freddie was out and about driving. Although he could not help but involuntarily furrow his brows. And he knew why. He just did not want to let it get to him.

Except the reason just passed him by in a flash.

Hitting the brakes with a screech, Freddie looked out from his window.

“Y/N!...” He called out to you, “What the f-“

Pausing in an instant. Standing in the bus stop, you suddenly looked up to find his car parked in front. Your eyes were red, not to mention your nose. You did not respond nor were you least surprised. Instead of bombarding you with questions, Freddie decided to take a different approach.

“Get in, I’ll drop you home...” he said, “Come on...” insisting with a soft tone, he waited until you finally did.

Even though you lived close by, the drive felt like eternity. Freddie could not comprehend your behavior, unable to read as you kept staring at the car window.

“Y/N...babe...” he uttered softly. Yet you did not respond. He felt helpless.

Distance did not lie, as the car finally arrived at the destination. He heard you take in a deep breath, with hands tightly clenching on your dress.

“Y/N...don’t fuck with me babe...what’s wrong?” The concern arose in Freddie’s voice. When finally he saw your turn your head towards him. Eyes almost watering, you smiled warmly: “I love you Freddie” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I love you Freddie”

You never thought those words would leave your lips before you kissed him so passionately. It was so spontaneous but it felt right. You weren’t embarrassed to the slightest to climb up and straddle him in the car. As a matter of fact, You wished there was nothing called public decency. You wished he’d take you then and there. You wished you could stay with him wrapped around him naked.

All because you loved him.

Pulling away, you finally moved back to your seat.

“Feeling better?” You heard him ask. Looking at him, you saw genuine concern filled in his eyes. Something you never saw before.

“Yeah...I am” you replied, aware of how swollen your lips have become. Giving his hand a tight squeeze, you smiled to your fullest.

“Bye Freddie...”

As you got out of his car, you just wished he knew what you really went through. With every kiss you kissed in there, you wished he knew of your demise that occurred yesterday. With every touch, you wished he sensed your pain. The pain you had to endure when forced to be dealt with by your father; the harsh reality, reminding you of the gravity of your situation. With your sudden confession of love, you wished he knew the choice you were given. You badly wished he could give you the answers. And save you like a white knight.

But you had no regrets. Not even one. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Few days later)

The chilly wind that exited out of the refrigerator cooled Freddie as he reached in to grab a beer. With the first gulp, his eyes caught the sight of his daughter. Sitting alone on the settee, she sipped on her coke. Closing the refrigerator door, he realized what was wrong here.

She sat there alone.

“Kim! Babe...what’s wrong?” He asked from across the room.

“Nothing Dad” Kim replied, head unturned, body unmoved as she stared down into the can. Freddie knew denial when he saw it. Especially with his daughter.

“Come on babe...” he said, setting the beer down on the pantry before walking up to her...”...don’t lie”

Sighing, Kim turned to him.

“I miss Y/N...”

“Yeah?” He asked, slumping down on the settee next to her, ”Well why isn’t she here then? Shall we give her a ring?”

To be quite honest, Freddie wanted to , for he did not see you for a few days.

Kim looked at him. “She’s gone, Dad”

His eyes widened slightly. “What? What do you mean?”

“She had to move ...”Kim replied, her tone growing sadder “...but why so suddenly? I don’t understand...It’s not fair” putting her head down, her tone grew softer. Freddie clicked his tongue.Suddenly those red eyes of yours, the silence you bore made complete sense.

“Awww c’mere...” he said, slowly pulling his daughter in to an embrace. “I miss her dad” he heard her mumble into his shirt. “I know you do, babe” he said. holding her tighter, hoping he could cover the little wound that involuntarily formed in his heart.

For it was evident that lustful Temptation had progressed into something more. But to the misfortune of two specific people, hope had slipped out of their hands.

With all that what happened, all Freddie wanted to say in return was one thing:

I miss her too. ———————————————————————

Check my MASTERLIST for more.

#tom hardy #freddie jackson #the take #freddie jackson x reader #freddie jackson one shot #freddie x reader #freddie jackson smut #freddie jackson fanfiction #the take fanfiction #tom hardy imagines #tom hardy fanfiction

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izzy-b-hands · 4 years

Text

Good Boys

Written for my DL server Bingo Card prompt: Praise/Humiliation.

A bit of Freddie/Roger for this one, set in the earlier Queen days. Just a touch of NSFW, but mostly just boyfriends being silly. Also partial sick!fic, which isn’t where I saw this prompt going? But all of a sudden I was there and considering this is my third rewrite of this prompt, I was just really happy to be done regardless of where I ended up lol.

My love to all who read/like/reblog.

“Um. Lick my boot?”

Freddie looked at Roger’s shoes. “You’re wearing sparkly trainers?”

“Well!” Roger spat. “Lick those then, I guess! Oh but don’t, that won’t feel good...”

“Are you telling me what to do or not?” Freddie asked.

“I am trying!” Roger stressed. “I don’t think I’m very good at this.”

“You’re thinking too much about it,” Freddie soothed. “You don’t have to be horribly mean or anything.”

“It’s praise and humiliation,” Roger said. “I think that implies I do need to be quite rude.”

“Well...” Freddie sighed, and got up from where he was knelt on the floor in front of Roger. “I think this was the wrong thing to try and add to spice things up.”

“Might have been,” Roger admitted. “I don’t mind the praise part.”

“No, that part is easy,” Freddie agreed, and sat on the bed, motioning for Roger to sit by him. “You’re very good at what you do to me.”

Roger grinned. “Same to you, darling.”

Freddie gave him a kiss. “See? We can do the first bit so well, why can’t we manage the other part?”

“Maybe we test out what we’re planning to say?” Roger mused. “If we can say it like this, not ‘in the moment’, so to speak, then it’ll probably be good for later.”

“In the moment,” Freddie added.

Roger nodded. “Right.”

“Okay,” Freddie turned so he was sat on the bed, facing Roger, who turned and did the same. “Do your worst.”

Roger giggled, but bit it back. “Um. You’re...bad?”

“You don’t sound very sure of that,” Freddie said. “Try again.”

Roger sighed. “Right. You-”

“Yes?” Freddie interrupted, nodding to encourage him on.

“Should...”

“Getting there,” Freddie said.

Roger frowned.

“You’re so close, I think,” Freddie whispered. “Come on.”

“Ah...get better at sex! Because you’re not good enough at it for me, and...um...” Roger rubbed at the back of his neck. “That doesn’t work even in fantasy. You’re wonderful in bed. Let me try again.”

“No, maybe I can think of something,” Freddie said. “What if we tie it into...I don’t know. You can’t take off your clothes until I tell you to take each bit of it off. Is that stupid? It feels stupid.”

“No, that might be a thing,” Roger said. “So...I’m fully clothed as it is. I have to take something off, so you can tell me not to take anything else off?”

“We aren’t doing this right,” Freddie replied, and crawled so he could flop onto the pillows on the bed. “But sure. You can take off your...shoes. But nothing else.”

“I’m actually rather warm, would love to take my sweater off,” Roger said as he pulled off his trainers. “Thank god I can finally take these off though.”

“Oh I know, I hate shoes on in the house,” Freddie muttered. “Disgusting.”

“Right?” Roger said. “That’s what house shoes and slippers are for!”

“So maybe no boot licking or shoe licking of any kind,” Freddie said. “I can happily live with that.”

“Me too,” Roger said. “Could I take off my sweater though? I was so cold earlier, but now...”

“No,” Freddie said. “I mean, I want to say yes, but if we’re doing this then I’m supposed to say no. So...no.”

Roger nodded, and stood up. “Going to go put my shoes away by the door. Be right back.”

“Rog?” Freddie asked, alarmed, as he rolled over to look at Roger. He was very pale, and seemed to be sweating. “You feeling alright?”

Roger waved away his concern. “Been a little off today. I’m alright. Doin’ alright, you know?”

He sang the last bit as he walked away and out of their room, as if he was set on performing the song as he went.

However, he only made it few steps before Freddie heard the thunk of him dropping to the floor.

He dashed out of the room, and picked Roger up from where he was knelt on the floor. “Sweater off, now.”

“‘Kay,” Roger murmured. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Freddie said. “And I think you’ve got that bug John was trying to kick last week...”

“Nah,” Roger said. “I’m good. We’re doing this.”

“We-” Freddie started, then stopped. Roger, dear as he was, like all of them could be an absolute pill to get to settle and rest while sick.

He could use this.

“Yes. We are,” Freddie said. “So I’m ordering you to get into our room, and get into your pajamas, and into bed.”

Roger gave him a quizzical look. “How is that sexy?”

“It’s very sexy,” Freddie reassured him as he helped Roger into the bedroom. “Wear the flannels.”

“That...Freddie,” Roger puzzled. “That’s not sexy. They just aren’t, they hang on me, I only wear them when I’m si-”

He paused, and gave Freddie a look. “I see how this is.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Freddie said innocently. “We’re trying out this praise/humiliation kink thing, and this is how I want to go about it! If you aren’t comfortable with it, safe word, and we’ll stop.”

“No, I think I’m alright with it as is,” Roger said suspiciously as he changed. “What shall I do next...sir.”

They both paused, and broke into giggles.

“Don’t call me that,” Freddie laughed. “Oh god, that was weird.”

“What about master?” Roger grinned weakly as he slid into their bed, snuggling under the covers.

“No,” Freddie said with a giggle and shake of his head.

“Master ba-”

“Shush,” Freddie cut him off with a kiss.

“I only meant to talk about how you bait us so well in the studio,” Roger smirked. “You know, convincing us to do more overdubs with biscuits. A master baiter, of providing bait so we stay put and work.”

“You’re terrible,” Freddie smiled.

“There’s the humiliation bit,” Roger said. “...Not that sexy, is it?”

“The commands doing anything for you?” Freddie asked.

“Not even a wiggle,” Roger sighed, picking up the covers to look down at his cock to make his point. “You?”

“Nothing,” Freddie replied. “But if it means you’ll rest until you feel well again, I’ll use it.”

“I don’t think it’s a kink anymore if we don’t find it sexy, and don’t fuck or do something sexual as a result,” Roger frowned. “I think you’re just taking care of me at that point.”

“I think you might be right,” Freddie sighed. “That said, I order you to stay put while I make you some tea, and get you some water, and make you soup.”

“Oh, did you get us a new saucepan?” Roger asked excitedly. Their only one had been burned through, the bottom completely fallen apart, due to an unfortunate accident of them forgetting they had put anything on the stove for over three hours, the last time they had tried to make soup.

Freddie winced. “Right. Ah, you stay put while I call Deaky and see if he can bring us over some soup...”

“He just got over this, he won’t want to risk getting sick again!” Roger called as Freddie rushed out to the phone. “Call Brian and make him do it instead!”

“Good point!” Freddie shouted back.

“Are you supposed to agree with me in this kink?” Roger laughed, then slumped back against the pillows as a dizzy spell hit him.

“No, I don’t think so? So...erm...that would be a good point, if you...oh fuck’s sake, I can’t do it!”

Roger laughed. “We tried, at least. Maybe once I’m better, we’ll try something else.”

“I did buy us a pair of handcuffs,” Freddie said, ducking his head back into the room. “I’ve got to go wait for Brian and the soup, but why don’t you think on that until I get back? The command to stay put still stands though!”

Roger whined. “What? No, you come back here and tell me more about that right now! Brian has a key, he can let himself in!”

“He left his key here the last time he was by!” Freddie called back. “Be patient, and I’ll get to the praise part and call you a good boy!”

“And give me kisses!” Roger shouted.

“And give you kisses!” Freddie yelled back with a laugh.

Roger nodded, satisfied, and let himself snuggle back into the pillows and under the blankets. Yes, it was on him that he hadn’t started their little experiment for the night by warning Freddie he was feeling under the weather (and in truth, he had thought he would be fine, it was only after the apparent fever and dizziness started that he realized his mistake.)

But overall, even if they hadn’t done praise/humiliation right, they had tried it. Their way worked, as far as he cared.

And what he cared about far more, at least for once he was well, was those handcuffs.

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #freddie mercury x roger taylor

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fluffyunicornofdanger · 5 years

Text

Living a Little Part 2

Author’s Note: So this series is going to be longer than 5 parts and I’m so excited. I’m so glad that so many of you enjoyed the first part and I hope you enjoy all the others. This series is going in a completely different direction then I planned but I couldn’t be happier. If you wanna be tagged let me know. I wanna thank the hell out of @waymorecake4me for all the help that she has given me on this fic. And @rogertaylorsbitontheside for making this more British. I don’t know when the next part will be out but it will be soon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

70s!John Deacon x Reader

Summary: You get dragged out of your comfort zone by your roommate, even though she knows you never go out, due to your studies, to a rock concert. Of all places. But maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all, when you met a very interesting, certain bassist. And he just so happens to find you interesting too.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: None (besides the fact that it’s hella long)

Walking back into the building, John spotted Brian, Freddie, and Devin standing on the stage around one of the speakers. They looked deep in thought as Devin crouched behind the speaker, pulling at some wires at the back of it. Devin looked up from what he was doing when he saw John approach. “Where’d you go? Roger went looking for you.”

Freddie and Brian turned to John, who had stopped to stand beside them, waiting for his answer. The concert hall wasn’t that large, there weren’t many places he could go without being found. “I just walked Y/n out.”

Devin chuckled, a smile growing on his face as he returned to the work that was in front of him. He could see the bassist’s cheeks burn red and he had a feeling that it was from something other than the cold air he had been exposed to.

“Who’s Y/n?” Freddie turned to John, with a bit of an overdramatic frown, feeling a bit left out as he could see that everyone else knew who the man was talking about.

“Y/n happens to be a friend of mine, who came to the concert and was wonderful enough to help me put the guitars away,” Devin answered for him, standing up and wiping his hand on his trousers, smirking. “And someone that Mr. Deacon seems to be interested in.”

John shook his head, hair flying about, the eyes of both Freddie and Brian trained on him. His cheeks couldn’t help but grow redder at Devin’s words. And he really wouldn’t say that he was interested in her. It seemed to be something a bit more complex than that.

“If you want-” Devin nudged him as he walked between him and Brian. “-I can give you her number.”

“I think he does want that,” Freddie answered for his friend as he could see John was at a loss for words. John glared at Freddie, wondering why everyone thought he was incapable of answering questions directed towards him, as Devin grabbed a random napkin off the floor and pulled a pen out of his pockets. Scratching Y/n’s number on the delicate paper, he handed the paper over to John when he was finished.

John took the paper, running his hands over the ink, making sure not to smudge it.

“Now, don’t you dare do anything stupid and cause her to hate me for this,” Devin told the bassist. “I don’t think I’ll pass biology without her.” John nodded as Devin headed for the door, his job done for the night.

Freddie scoffed at the words. “It’s John you’re talking about, not Roger. So, I don’t think you need to worry, darling,” he called to the man, earning a shrug in return.

There was silence once Devin left the room, heading to the back rooms. John’s cheeks still hot from his encounter with Y/n, even though she had long since left. He was wondering if she felt the same as him.

Brian was the first to speak up, gaining the attention of Freddie and John. “Are you going to call her?”

The question when asked in a general sense wasn’t a weighted one. But it was John. He wasn’t like Roger who flirted with everything that moved or like Freddie who had no problem starting random conversations with complete strangers and rattling on for hours. He wasn’t known for either of those things and his bandmates had only seen him flirt maybe a handful of times. And they had never seen him… so smitten. Brian knew that he barely knew the woman, they’d barely even met, but he could clearly see that she had taken his heart with her when she walked out the door.

“You’d be a fool not to,” Freddie chirped as John looked down at the paper once again, like he was thinking it over.

The only thing he was thinking, though, was if she said yes, then where would he take her? It had been a while since he’d gone on a proper date because his bandmates always seemed to find him and want to join. And he didn’t know that many date-worthy places in London, but he knew all the pubs like the back of his hand as, it seemed, he had played in almost all of them. But pubs weren’t places that you took pretty girls that you wanted to get to know to, that much he knew.

Rubbing the back of his neck, a smile taking over his face, John started off the stage. “Yeah. I-I think I will call her.”

Y/n wiped her hands on the washcloth hanging from the stove handle, mumbling lyrics from a song that she’d heard at the concert the day before. It was Sunday, the only day that she didn’t have to work or attend classes, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t doing work. Sundays were generally the days when both Alice and her would clean the flat as it had a way of collecting dust. It was almost like they lived next to a busy country road instead of the concrete jungle known as London.

Alice had yet to return from her night of fun, so Y/n was left to clean the place by herself. But she didn't complain, Alice always had a way of either getting out of cleaning or distracting them both from it. And the place looked like a pigsty and she couldn’t have that.

Turning to the dried dishes in the dish rack, Y/n opened the cabinets they belonged in and started to put them away. She didn’t get far when the phone rang, distracting her from the task at hand. Y/n groaned, no one ever called on Sundays. Placing the plate in her hand on the counter, she walked over to the phone in the hallway.

Taking a deep breath, she picked it up, putting it to her ear. “Hello.”

“Y/n?” a male’s voice questioned through the line.

“Yes, this is she.”

“It’s John, we met last night.”

Y/n let out a laugh. He seemed to think that she could forget about him. If he had been anyone else, she probably would have. She probably wouldn’t have given him a second thought but that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t anyone else and she hadn’t been able to get him off her mind since they’d met. She thought she was only being foolish, like whatever she was feeling towards him was like some silly teenage crush. But it seemed that those feelings weren’t as silly as she had thought. “Yeah, I remember.”

He laughed through the line, causing a smile to break out on her face. “Devin gave me your number, I hope you don’t mind.”

She let out a sigh. Of course, he did. But if he hadn’t, Alice probably would have made him if she found out. “No, I don’t mind. I’m just surprised he remembered it. He can name all the bones in the body, but has a hard time naming all his professors.” That earned her another laugh as the front door opened, banging against the wall, a small curse traveling through the flat. Alice was home.

“Um… So-” He cleared his throat. “-would you like to go on a date with me? Maybe tomorrow if you’re willing?”

Y/n was at a loss for words. It had been a while since she’d been in a relationship. Her last one hadn’t ended on a good note and it made her hesitant to want to get into another. And it wasn’t like she really had time to even think about dating again.

“Oh god,” she breathed out. “I-I… Um-” Alice trudged into the hall, mouthing for Y/n to put the phone down, looking like she hadn’t gotten an ounce of sleep. “Could you give me a second?”

Before he could respond, Y/n put her hand over the part of the phone that her voice traveled through and turned to Alice with an irritated look on her face. “What?”

“Who’s on the phone? Don’t they realize it’s Sunday,” Alice complained, trying to take off her heels. Resting a hand on the wall, she took one off, dropping it on the floor. “Sundays are not meant for phone calls.”

“Alice,” she gave her roommate a terrified, pleading look, overlooking her friend’s behavior. “It’s the bassist from the band we saw last night.”

A cheeky smile spread across Alice's face as she dropped her other shoe on the floor. She was thrilled that Y/n had met someone. A little jealous that it was a member of the band, but she could look past that.

Y/n looked at her with pleading eyes, a silent cry for help. “I stayed behind a little to help Devin, you’ve met him.” Alice nodded, having met him once when bumping into the two at the library while they were studying. “Well, I met John and I guess Devin gave him my number after I left. I don’t know why he would do it or why John would even want it,” she rambled. “But now he has it and he asked me if I want to go on a date with him and I just don’t know. I just don’t know what to do. This has never happened to me before.”

Alice squealed at the last part. Making Y/n go to that concert had done more than she could have hoped. “You better say yes! Remember what I said about living a little? Well, this would be part of that. And you have to say yes! I swear to god if you don’t then I’m gonna take all your textbooks and notes and… and I’ll light them on fire!”

Y/n’s face fell. She should have known better than to tell Alice because obviously, she would want her to say yes. Y/n wanted to say yes, she really did, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to lead to anything. She pouted, “Fine.”

Her roommate clapped her hands together, jumping up and down like a child. Y/n could only roll her eyes at the behavior.

Uncovering the phone, she put it back to her ear, “John? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here,” stifled laughter could be heard in the background.

Playing with the phone cord, twirling it between her finger, she took a deep breath. Alice’s eyes boring into her, waiting for her to speak. “I would love to go on a date with you.” A sigh of what was probably relief came through the line. “Maybe we could do brunch at 10:30 at Mickie’s on 3rd street. I have to be at work by 11:45, and my boss isn’t very lenient about anything and it’s literally right around the corner from where I work. Would that be alright? Or do you have something else in mind?”

Alice gave her a thumbs up before turning towards the kitchen.

There was silence on the other end except for what sounded like a pencil scratching across paper. “Are you there, John?”

“Yeah, yeah. I was just writing all that down. It would be horrible if I didn’t show up because I forgot it all. But that all works for me,” he confirmed.

Y/n let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in as a grin appeared on her face. Even though she had dreaded the idea of going on a date minutes before, the idea was now growing on her. “Well, I’ll see you then, I guess.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, Y/n.”

Fingers shaking, Y/n set the phone back in the receiver.

She was so nervous. It had been ages since she’d gone on a date. And talking to John, even though it hadn’t been much of a conversation, had brought about feelings that she didn’t know what to call. They were definitely ones that she had never experienced before.

Walking into the kitchen, Alice turned to her after putting away the leftover dishes. Her eyes lit up as she saw the smile and deep crimson blush on her roommate’s face. “Oh god, you’ve got a date!” she shouted, engulfing the girl in a hug. Swaying on her heels, she pulled back a little, an overly serious look taking over her features. “What are you going to wear?”

The streets of London were bustling as people traveled around the city. Y/n stepped out to the middle of the road, trying not to get run over by anyone, and smoothed over her skirt. Well… Alice’s skirt that she insisted would look better on her as none of her own clothes ‘looked good enough for a rock star’. But that just begged the question, what was good enough for a rock star? Maybe she would find out.

She hadn’t realized how nervous she was for the date until she was standing across the street from the restaurant. She had been excited for their brunch date the night before, a good cup of tea settling her nerves. But all those nerves and all those feeling boiled back to the surface as she stared at the front of Mickie’s.

Glancing down at her wristwatch, it read 10:27. Taking a deep breath, Y/n composed herself before crossing the street, weaving between people, and entering the restaurant. It didn’t take but a few seconds to spot John at a table pushed up next to a window. She smiled as he hadn’t noticed her arrival. Walking up to the table, Y/n set her purse down before taking her seat. “Hi, John.”

“Hey,” he smiled up at her, brushing a piece of hair out of his face. “I ordered two teas, I hope you’re alright with that?”

Y/n nodded. “I don’t drink coffee, so I’m perfectly alright with tea.”

There was silence between them. Y/n fiddled with her fingers, not wanting to be the one to break the silence. What was she supposed to say anyway? She’d only ever been in relationships with people she’d grown up with, so there was never that awkward learning stage. She never had to ask where someone had grown up or what their parents did, that was information she already knew. Hell, that was information that everyone knew.

This was a whole new experience for her.

After a couple of seconds ticked by, John adjusted himself in his chair before resting his hands on the table. “So, um… You already know what I do for a living, what do you do?”

She tore her eyes off her hands that were drumming on her leg. “Oh, I work at a clinic around the corner as a receptionist at the moment.”

John nodded, taking in the information as a server came over and placed two cups of steaming tea in front of the pair. “Thank you.” As the server retreated, he turned his attention back to the woman in front of him. “You’re also in university, right?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“What degree are you working towards?” he inquired, pulling a bowl of sugar cubes towards him and dropping two in his cup. He pushed the bowl towards Y/n, her dragging it closer to her cup before grabbing a couple.

Stirring her tea, she shrugged. “Well, I’m working towards a nursing degree as a foundation and once I graduate I hope to get into medical school. But if I don’t get in then I can always be a nurse.”

“You wanna be a doctor?”

Y/n couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the question, bringing her cup to her lips. It hadn’t been asked out of surprise like she’d heard it so many times before, but out of curiosity. But still. She was tired of answering the question. It was 1974, not 1914. Women in the medical field as something other than a nurse was nothing new. Not since the Sex Discrimination Act was passed, allowing women to feel safer and more welcome in the workforce.

John could sense that he might have asked the wrong question. “I’m sorry, Y/n. It was just a harmless question,” he assured her, hoping that he didn’t just ruin the date, making it their first and last.

She waved his apology away, “No, I’m sorry. You are just curious because we’re getting to know each other. And it really was nothing but harmless. But you don’t understand-” She set her cup down, wrapping her hands around it to trap the warmth. “- how many times I get asked that. And it’s just annoying. So, most of the time I just tell people that I’m working towards being a nurse. It’s just easier and I get spared the weird looks.”

“I think it’s amazing that you want to be a doctor. Really.”

“Yeah, well not everyone thinks that way,” she commented, thinking about how her grandmother about had a heart attack when she shared her plans.

As time passed, the two became more comfortable with each other, skipping over the boring ‘where’d you grow up?’ and ‘what do you your parents do?’, opting instead for ‘who’s your favorite band?’ and ‘what part of the world would you like to see?’. Questions like those eased Y/n’s nerves because her life was pretty boring. She’s grown up in a town a little ways west of London that was about as interesting as staring at a blank page and she hadn’t done much with her life until she moved for school. So, her childhood, her life, her story up to that point was boring and one that people probably wouldn’t want to hear.

Y/n threw her head back, a laugh escaping her lips. “I’m not sure how you guys haven’t broken up or killed each other yet. Sounds like you’re all so mean to each other.”

John choked on a laugh as he tried to explain himself. “I swear we-we’re not that bad. It’s all out of love.”

She raised a brow, not convinced.

“Okay, okay, not all the time,” he told her, raising his hands in defense.

Y/n ran her finger around the rim of her cup, long since empty. “Name one time.”

He bit his lip, unsure if he should share the story. His bandmates would probably kill him if they found out that he didn’t keep his promise in never mentioning the event ever again. But they weren’t there to stop him. Thank god they weren’t there at all. “Okay, but you can’t tell anyone.”

Drumming her fingers against the table, she nodded. “I swear on the life of my sister, I won’t tell a soul,” she smiled, waiting for the story.

Just as he was about to dive into it, he narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you even have a sister?”

Y/n shrugged, a smile lingering on her lips. “I don’t think it matters. And either way, that information will be released on the second date.”

“Second date?” he smiled at the thought.

“Yep. Now, I want to hear this story that I can’t share with anyone,” she confirmed, gesturing for him to start the story.

John took a deep breath before plunging into the story. “So, Roger’s a hothead, I think almost half of London has witnessed his wrath, but anyway, he often clashes with Freddie over the stupidest of things and it normally doesn’t end well. But they makeup and we all go back to whatever it is we’re doing. But one time they were both angry with each other until Brian had done something that he does almost every day. I’m not even sure why they cared,” he noted, too wrapped up in getting the story out to notice that Y/n was no longer paying attention.

She was looking out the window, her eyes focused on a man across the street. If the sun had cast a shadow over the bustling street, she would have sworn she was seeing things and if she had stayed up studying then she would have sworn that it was lack of sleep. But neither of those things were true as she looked at a face lit up by the sun that she hadn’t seen in years.

Her breath hitched as his eyes met hers from where he stood.

She knew it was a small world, but she thought that she’d never see the man again, not after he moved to America. Not after she thought he left her life for good.

Once their eyes locked, she quickly turned back to John, who still hadn’t noticed that she wasn’t listening to him. Her hands were now shaking, taken over by fear. But it was nothing. Seeing him was nothing more than a coincidence. He was simply back in London, probably visiting his family and friends, that’s all it was. And the two just happened to be in the same area at the same time. It happens. There were many people that Y/n saw at the clinic that she would see around the city.

It was nothing more than that. It couldn’t be.

“You should have seen Brian’s hair when Freddie and Roger were done with him,” John laughed as Y/n tried to control her shaking hands. “His hair looked like black cotton candy with his curls all brushed out. Oh, God, it was hilarious! And-” A fit of laughter racked his body. “-it took his hair a couple of days to recover from it and he wouldn’t talk to us for like two weeks.” Tears were running down his face at this point from how hard he was laughing.

Y/n smiled, letting out a small laugh, not quite sure what he was talking about. “Well, I guess for my hair’s safety, I’ll try not to mess with Roger and Freddie.”

“Oh, I don’t think they would do anything to you,” he assured her, his tone turning serious. “The only people they target are each other and Brian and I. So, you’re safe.”

“That’s good to know.” She glanced at her watch, frowning at the time it displayed. “Wow, time flies,” she muttered.

John’s face fell at her words. “You have to go, don’t you?”

She nodded, standing from the table and grabbing her purse. “Yeah, I’ve gotta go make some money. But this was fun. I really enjoyed talking to you.”

John stood from his seat, gesturing for her to walk towards the door before he pulled some cash out of his pocket and set it on the table. “I enjoyed talking to you, too... So, what about that second date?”

John slipped ahead of Y/n before she could answer so he could open the door for her. She smiled as she walked out with him trailing behind. Once on the street, she turned to him, “What about it?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’d like to find out if you really have a sister,” he offered.

She shook her head, “Yeah, you really just wanna know if I’ll keep my mouth shut. But how about you choose the place this time?”

He shifted his weight, smiling at her words. “Yeah, yeah... So, I’ll call you then?”

Walking backward a few paces, she nodded, “You better,” she smirked. “Bye John.”

“Bye Y/n,” he waved as she turned on her heels and walked around the corner.

Y/n bounced around the office as she clocked in and put her purse behind the counter. She felt light as air, making sure that all her paperwork was in order and that she had everything that she would need before taking a seat in her chair.

Her date with John had gone better than she thought it would. But then again, everything she thought could go wrong with it was highly unlikely to happen, and completely irrational. Thankfully, all was well and she was looking forward to a second date. She just hoped that she could find free time for it.

“You look happy,” her coworker, Diane, stated from her chair on the other end of the receptionist’s desk.

She hummed in response, rummaging through a pot next to her typewriter for a pen so she could sign a document needed for a supply order.

Not satisfied with the answer, Diane turned her chair around. “You’re never this happy,” she pointed out. “So, what happened?”

Y/n turned to face her, trying to keep her smile under control. She felt like she might explode from how happy she was. She didn’t know why or how, but being around John, even though they barely knew each other, made her happy. He made her happy and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. A part of that scared her, they were still kinda strangers, but it was brushed aside by all the positives. “I… Well, I went on a date.”

A smile spread on Diane’s face. She knew how hard Y/n worked, both at the clinic and university. And she was under the impression that her coworker wasn’t looking for a relationship. But it would probably do her some good to have something in her life that was more than paperwork and medical notes. Something that would hopefully be less stressful. “And how’d it go?”

“I think it went really well,” a smile broke out on her face. “I think it went really, really well, actually.” She played with the pen in her hand, tapping it along the arm of her chair. “I don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t been on a date since the Sahara dried into a desert, but I barely know the guy, we literally met Saturday night, and I just… I don’t even know how to put it. I just want to be around him and talk to him,” she rambled, Diane nodding to the information.

“That’s amazing, darling. I’m so happy for you,” she grasped Y/n’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’re going on a second date then?”

Y/n nodded as the door to the clinic opened. “Yeah, he’s gonna call me sometime to set it up.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Diane repeated herself, turning back to her work. “So, is this guy cute?”

“Maybe I’ll bring him around sometime if we have more than two dates,” she replied with a laugh, turning back to her part of the desk.

“That would be great! And maybe we could double date, if you’re both up to it,” Diane exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to find ways to get Richard out of his office and I think that would do it.”

Y/n nodded, sliding a piece of paper into her typewriter. “Yeah, I’d love to. I think it’ll probably b-”

A man cleared his throat, cutting off Y/n’s thought.

Turning from her typewriter, which had decided to crumble the paper up instead of leaving it smooth, she looked up at the man. All her excitement from earlier had faded away once her eyes landed on his face.

It was him.

“Charles,” she barely managed to breathe out.

He smiled down at her, his black hair falling to the side. “Hello, Y/n.”

She couldn’t do anything but stare at him as Diane helped him with what he needed. It seemed that she was incapable of moving as fear raced through her body. Seeing him from across the street was one thing. It was easy to ignore. As easy as ignoring a car horn or a dog bark. But seeing him in the clinic, seeing him up close and exchanging words with him, even if they were few, was different. It couldn’t be ignored and she hated that. She had spent so much time trying to forget him only for him to show up at her workplace.

What were the odds?

Diane stood from her chair, heading to the back to Dr. Smith’s office, leaving Y/n alone with Charles. Tapping her fingers along the arm of her desk, she tried to ignore the fact that she could feel his eyes on her. Instead of giving him her attention, she gave it to her typewriter that had decided to destroy all the paper she fed it.

“How have you been, Y/n?” He asked, giving her a reason to look at him.

Y/n took a deep breath before turning her attention to him. “I’ve been great,” she tried to keep the answer small.

He twisted the watch around his wrist, a small smile forming on his lips. “That’s good. Your mum said that you were studying nursing, how’s that going?”

“You talked to my mum?!” she tried to keep her voice down as there were a few people in the waiting room. She couldn’t believe it. Why did he even care? It’s not like it would affect him. It’s not like anything she did or would ever do would affect him. Not anymore.

He shrugged her comment off, giving her a weird look. “Yeah, I did. What’s wrong with that? There aren’t many places to go in Windsor without running into someone you know, so I bumped into her.”

She reset her jaw. Of course, he saw nothing wrong with it. He never saw anything wrong with any of his actions. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with that. I was just surprised,” she gave him a fake smile. “You know, I thought you were still living in New York.”

“No,” he shook his head as Diane reappeared. “I’m actually gonna be staying in London for a while for work. I may even end up moving back.” Y/n’s eyes went wide as he turned his attention to Diane, who showed him back to Dr. Smith’s office. “See you around,” he called to her, entering the doctor’s office.

No.

He couldn’t be back. He… he just couldn’t. It’s not that they hadn’t ended things well, their relationship ended as best as it could all things considered. But no normal person would have described the ending as ‘well’. But that’s because no one knew Charles like she did. To Y/n, it had ended as well as to be expected. But it had been rough. They weren’t meant for each other and Y/n could sense it from the start. They were off, unbalanced. Toxic, or at least one of them was. But Charles didn’t see it that way. He never could. He always thought that they were meant to be, a love story pulled from fairy tales.

Their love story wasn’t pulled from fairy tales, it was pulled from police reports.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@deakysgirl @danamaleksworld @kenzie-belle @rogertaylorssunglasses @raisemeup98 @dreamer821

(If any of you wanna be tagged, let me know. And if any of you asked and you didn’t get tagged, message me and I’ll tag you on the next part.)

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realifemakotoniijima · 5 years

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Queenified (Part 1)

Hey guys! I went from posting absolutely nothing (and because my gc asked for it) to posting my first Queen fic! It’s a very silly idea I got and it wasn’t meant to be published anywhere. This is my own version of Queen’s story in an AU where Brian and John are female for no particular reason, so I’m not accepting any kind of childish blacklash, but useful to also show some things about women in music and in the seventies from time to time.

Also!!!! English is not my native language and I’m very insecure about writing in English, so I’m expected to have some mistakes that maybe I didn’t realize about idioms and that kind of stuff. My biggest inspiration is tumblr! (lol) That’s it, if you’re interested, enjoy!

Chapter one: Freddie.

Trigger warning: not for now. Chapter song: Doing All Right (Smile/Queen)

The sun was setting in the beautiful city London was. He wasn’t still used to it, but adored it nonetheless. The chaos the Bulsaras left behind in Zanzibar became now the caos of moving and starting again, or something like that.

It wasn’t so difficult to Farrokh, actually. Of course, the whole shock hit him too, but going to England was a whole new deal he absolutely loved. Thanks to his high grades he had been accepted in Ealing Art College and started studying graphic design. But not long after graduation he moved to the fantastic London, with all its possibilities. He then had a place in Kensington Market and sold second-hand clothes, specially Edwardian clothes, with his girlfriend, Mary Austin, and an acquaintance of his, Roger Taylor.

But he wouldn’t have met Roger back then if it hadn’t been for his college mate Tim, who had a band called Smile with him and a girl, Brianna, who shut every toxic masculinity’s mouth with her amazing skills with the guitar. Brianna, also, was friends with Mary and the one who introduced her to Farrokh. There was kind of a lesbian energy, but he had never been sure about it; Brianna always claimed to be straight, not even bisexual. Maybe it was just him.

Anyway, nothing of it was getting into his mind right then, during his way back home after a tiring shift at Heathrow. Not even his name, which now was Freddie. At least then he was going to London instead of Middlesex, and didn’t live on his own. Brianna must have been making the greatest dinner he had ever had.

It was almost night when he took the keys out of his pocket and opened the door of the flat. He quickly hung his coat up on one of the hangers, being Tim’s the only one empty, while the aroma of tomato sauce was invading the room. Roger was sitting on the couch, watching tv.

“Hey, Fred!”, Roger called, his mouth full of chips, and held the packet high while he half-turned his head to see his flatmate. “Want some chips?”

“Not on the couch, Christ!”, a feminine voice complained at Freddie’s left. It was Brianna, holding the wooden spoon.

“What’s the deal, whatsoever?”, Roger questioned, raising his eyebrows towards Brianna while Freddie took some chips out of the packet, standing behind the couch. He enjoyed watching Roger and Brianna argue from time to time, they made it somehow funny and sometimes he liked to think there was some chemistry between them. “We always make a mess. Even you do”

“Yeah, but I’m the only one that cleans up since I got to live with three mommy babies”, Brianna answered, pointing at them with the sauce-tainted wooden spoon. She was a funny image compared to them, wearing the kitchen apron and her messy curls all around her head with no control. She did her best to cook decent food with the little they had. “We have a gig tomorrow and I also want to sleep my ass off before evening. You two work, I work AND study”

Looking at the clock on the wall before going back to the half-made dinner, Brianna pinched her eyebrows. “Where the hell is Tim, by the way? He should be here by now”

Obviously, everyone in the flat had almost learnt everyone’s schedules by heart. One of them missing mysteriously is easy to find out sometimes. And as far as they are concerned, Tim wasn’t seeing anyone to go out without telling them. Maybe he bumped into someone?

Both Freddie and Roger made gestures showing they knew less than her.

“Oh, Fred, how was your day?”, Brianna asked then, going back to the food.

“As shitty as working at Heathrow could be, love. But thanks anyway”, Freddie replied. He walked towards the countertop and slipped his hand into the pot to take a bit of sauce into his mouth. He didn’t care about the heat when he licked his finger, and after that he kissed Brianna’s cheek. “Your spaghetti, however, can change anyone’s day. And even more if you add a little bit of salt”.

“Hey! You never ask how my day was!”, Roger’s jealous voice could be heard from behind, crossing his arms. He could be such an angry furby sometimes.

Brianna incredulously turned around and stared at the blonde. “I don’t need to. Your face gives me enough information every time”

It wasn’t long until Brianna finished cooking, and she decided they couldn’t wait for Tim any longer. Freddie helped her setting the table while Roger was forced to clean off the salt grains he dropped from the couch. During dinner, Brianna and Roger arranged the next day’s gig with Freddie’s humble opinion; they also complaint about the daily life and Roger chatted about his sex life (with Brianna’s silent eyeroll).

A few minutes later, there was a key noise at the door. Tim Staffell, the missing flatmate, appeared from behind the door.

“Mate, where the hell have you been?”, Roger inquired, suddenly raged. He hadn’t been particularly scared, he just squeezed his brain trying to figure out his friend’s whereabouts. Brianna didn’t say anything, as well as Freddie. But in her mind, it was the fourth night Tim arrived late. “It’s Bri’s spaghetti night!”

“I didn’t realize about the time, but I’m here, safe and sound”, Tim said after hanging his coat up and approaching Brianna to kiss her curls. He knew she was angry as soon as he saw her face. They are not even a couple, but he knew her since high school and without her, that flat would be a fucking war; she was pretty important. “Sorry, Bri. I’ll try to remember it next time”

“I hope you have a good story, at least”, Brianna replied, returning to her own spaghetti. “Friendly reminder that we have a gig tomorrow night”

They didn’t make a fuss about Tim’s late arrival, but he surely finished his dinner alone. After helping Brianna with the dishes, Freddie left for the night. Dragging his feet to his bedroom, he started to feel all the tireness he fought against during the day. His room wasn’t messy, but it had some things out of place. Posters decorated the walls as well as the courtains did the windows; he and Brianna are the only ones that have rooms with big windows while Roger’s and Tim’s had windows little enough. Some clothes were discarded all over the floor, his acoustic guitar laid against the wall with no extra support and his piano was located as a headboard, being a bare mattress his bed (although Brianna got him some sheets and a comforter for the winter).

There were some pictures, though. On the chest of drawers he had a picture of his family, his parents and little sister, who were still living in Middlesex. There was also one of his first cat. People he held dear and didn’t have with him. He was planning on having a picture with the flat gang, too. He had other friends, of course, but they were slowly becoming his family and deserved to be on his wall. They didn’t even laugh at his teeth and that is saying too much although they disagree.

“Dude, it’s a human thing to do”, Roger would’ve said. Roger, who was practically perfect physically speaking. What was better, he would’ve even thrown hands at Kensington Market if someone had said something about it.

Laying on his bed, Freddie felt grateful for a moment. Although he was introverted and shy when being in private, he had supportive friends who had fun with him instead of making fun of him.

#queenified

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izzy-b-hands · 4 years

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Night Out/Night In

Written for the DL server Bingo Card prompt-Harem(s)

So, I struggled with this one, so I decided to work the prompt into this in a minor way, so I could also write this other fic idea I’ve had for awhile lol. As a note with that, I didn’t actually search to see if there are any bands named Harem or Harems or any variation of that, so the one I mention in this fic is purely fictional!

Enjoy some NSFW Freddie/Jim at a punk show, purely for the sake of having a night out together with minimal interruption from well-meaning fans!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“Sorry, what are they called?”

“Harem, or Harems, I think,” Roger replied, handing over the tickets for the concert. “I wouldn’t normally say this, and they aren’t bad or anything, but the music isn’t the point of tonight.”

“No?” Freddie asked with a smirk. “Then what is the point of it?”

“The two of you, being able to go somewhere new, somewhere different, and not having to worry so much about being recognized and bothered,” Roger said. “Plus, even if anyone in the crowd would recognize you, they’ll at the very least do a double take with the two of you all done up.”

“It isn’t the worst,” Jim admitted, tapping at the spikes on Freddie’s leather jacket. “Just leather with a bit extra.”

“I don’t hate it either,” Freddie said. “Not exactly. Feel a bit silly-”

“You both look lovely,” Roger interrupted. “Young punks seeing you two won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“And you’ll look after the kids?”

One of the kids in question, Delilah, wound her tail around Roger’s leg as she walked around his feet.

“They’ll have the best of care,” Roger replied, and picked Delilah up. “Though I think they would have been okay-”

“Everyone else is out of the house tonight,” Freddie interrupted. “I know they could be left alone, but I’d rather they not, and if things should go sideways at the show...”

“I’ll be near the phone, and ready to come get you whenever you should need me,” Roger reassured. “Tell your dad he’s being silly, Delilah. Tell him everything is going to be fine.”

Delilah meowed loudly, and batted at Roger’s nose.

“See?” Roger raised a brow. “Even she knows it’ll all be perfectly good. A nice night out, hearing some new music, worrying about nothing.”

---

The worries about blending into the crowd melted away after Roger dropped them off at the venue. Everyone was done up similar to them, in varying degrees: leather, thick and messy eyeliner with streaks of bright eyeshadow, spikes and mesh and pins all over.

Surprisingly, they weren’t the oldest ones there, like Freddie had expected they might be. There were a good number of folks their age, if not older, and it made it easier to walk through the crowd as if they belonged there.

“There isn’t anything saying we don’t belong here as much as anyone else anyway,” Jim said as they made their way onto the floor of the venue, in the flood of fans. “I’m sure we aren’t the only people here tonight at their first show for this band, or first punk show in general. And remember, this is for a night. We don’t have to do this again if we don’t want to.”

“But you do like me in all of this, don’t you?” Freddie teased.

“I might,” Jim teased back. “So do those girls, I think.”

The girls were probably all of sixteen, blushing redder than the eyeshadow they wore as Freddie turned and caught their gaze.

“They’re children,” Freddie chuckled. “They’ll find another six boys in the crowd to make eyes at yet, I’m sure.”

“And you?” Jim asked.

“Found my one, right here,” Freddie replied, only to turn his eyes to the stage. “Oh...”

They were loud. Raucous. Raw. Almost too much, and that was saying a lot for him.

But even if the music wasn’t exactly his thing, the energy in the crowd was. They were on the edge of any of the moshing, and he wasn’t keen on joining it and possibly getting crushed, but even being near all of it was enough. A mix of angry, happy, and everything in between, a kinetic mass of mess.

And it was electrifying.

Getting to the back of the venue to the bar for drinks was impossible against the crush of the crowd, which normally would have been a disappointment, but tonight? It wasn’t a bother.

It also helped that there was no need to hide anything, with this crowd. If people weren’t moshing, crashing into each other, then they were yanking each other off to the sides of the mass, and crashing into each other’s lips instead. Girls with girls and boys with boys, not a single fuck given as to who might see.

So he didn’t hold himself back from kissing Jim whenever he got the chance, hands finding bare skin under mesh, pulling at the waistbands of leather trousers.

Finally, they half-led half-pulled each other out of the venue through a side door, into the alley at the side of the building.

“When the fuck did it start raining?” Freddie chuckled. It was pouring, soaking them to the skin, making their makeup run.

And in that half-second of adjusting to being outside, it dawned on both of them just how incredibly, if not oddly, hot the entire situation was.

“We’re keeping the clothes,” Jim said, and that was the last talking that was done.

It was replaced the by rush of lips on lips, hands pulling at leather, stopping only on occasion, to brush a bit of make-up tinged water from their faces as the rain continued to fall hard.

There was only one streetlight near them, that provided minimal illumination.

All the same, it wasn’t an excuse to be less careful, and it was an unspoken agreement as they made their way further back into the alley, away from the light.

“We aren’t doing the whole...thing,” Freddie gestured. “Here, are we?”

“God no,” Jim laughed. “Not young enough for that anymore anyway. But we could start that fun here, and finish when we get home?”

Freddie nodded. “So long as we calm down enough before Roger comes to get us.”

“I don’t think Roger will mind if we’re making out in the backseat like teenagers,” Jim said. “He owes us anyway, since we didn’t tell anyone about the night he-”

“Shush!” Freddie giggled. “Delilah was no worse the wear for being held like a baby anyway. That he did try and sing her to sleep was adorable, too.”

“It was,” Jim said. “But I think he’s less embarrassed at having done it, and more that he was drunk enough that night to pick up a cat and think it a baby.”

“I’d argue she is a baby, but never mind that for now,” Freddie said.

“She is, in her own way,” Jim chuckled, the moaned as Freddie kissed him hard. “You keep that up, and it’ll be more than making out.”

“Good,” Freddie smiled, undoing the button of Jim’s trousers as he kissed him again.

In the back of the alley, in the dark, there wasn’t room for much. But trousers could be undone, pushed aside so they could get their hands on each other’s cocks, lips could find bare skin to leave kisses and hickeys (that there would be simply no explaining away, thank goodness the cold weather meant scarves wouldn’t be out of place), and they could pull each other as close as humanly possible without fear of interruption.

Neither of them could have said for how long they were at it, until finally it was nearly too much.

“If we don’t stop, there’ll be nothing to finish at home,” Freddie smiled, pausing for a breath. “As it is, I hope Roger can leave the car away from a streetlight...”

As if on cue, there he was.

“Sorry,” Roger shouted, covering his eyes. “Been about two hours since the show ended. Thought maybe you’d gone for a drink, but couldn’t find you at your usual haunts, so I thought, maybe, off-chance-”

“We didn’t realize the time,” Jim called, as they worked to button themselves back up. “Sorry, Rog.”

“No, no,” Roger protested. “S’alright. You two were having fun, clearly.”

They blushed at that, though they knew Roger meant no harm by it.

“How about we get you home, so you can dry off and get to the rest of that somewhere more comfortable?” Roger continued. “Don’t get me wrong; I’ve had my nights in tucked away places, but-”

“Thank you, Roger,” Freddie interrupted. “We really are sorry, we should have watched the time.”

“Stop apologizing,” Roger scolded him playfully as he led them to the car. “I mean it! I’m genuinely pleased you two had a good time tonight, and that you’ll be having as good a time once I get you home. That’s what tonight was for!”

The drive home sobered them slightly, as they talked with Roger as to how the kids had been (”Delilah missed you, cried a bit, then settled on my lap. Others all hid away from me, but I checked on them before I came to get you, and they were happily sleeping.”)

He left them at the door before driving off to head home himself, and it was like someone had cranked it all back up to eleven.

They were on each other again as soon as the front door was shut and locked, even as they nearly tripped over a meowing Delilah.

“Darling, we’re a bit busy,” Freddie tried, but she only cried louder.

“Let’s put her to bed, otherwise she won’t leave us alone,” Jim said. “And you know how sad it is to hear her cry at the bedroom door.”

Freddie nodded, and they separated long enough for Freddie to scoop Delilah up so they could escort her to her room, making sure she was settled and happy before they left her.

“Children,” Freddie sighed with a smile as they walked into their room, shutting the bedroom door behind them.

Jim nodded, only to break into giggles as Freddie took the pause as opportunity to literally jump him, and tackle him onto the bed.

“We should get these off,” Jim said, plucking at the waistband of Freddie’s trousers as Freddie straddled him. “No good, stuck in soaked leather.”

“True, but it’s going to be a bitch to get off,” Freddie said, wincing as he yanked off his leather jacket and mesh shirt, tossing them to the floor. “Unless you’ll help me?”

“Would I ever refuse?” Jim smiled.

He wouldn’t, of course, but unfortunately Freddie had been all too right about the leather being stubborn to pull off while still wet. It was a chore as much as it was foreplay.

They dropped back into the bed, finally naked, and burst into laughter.

“We’re sweatier from that than from anything else we’ve done tonight,” Freddie giggled. “One downside to the leather.”

“Just the one,” Jim agreed. “Are you too tired out then, for the rest of our night?”

“Never,” Freddie replied, and moved to straddle him again.

“Never too tired, hm?” Jim smiled, then laughed as Freddie tried and failed to hold back a yawn.

“Hush,” Freddie sighed. “I’m getting old, apparently. Be nice to a tired old man.”

“That makes me a tired old man too,” Jim said. “Something slower for the rest of the night, then?”

Freddie nodded, and shifted so they were laying side by side, face to face. It was easiest to kiss, to touch, to frot against each other (with the help of some of the lube from the bedside table), that way. And it was gentle enough, but the intensity remained in every kiss and moan and motion.

It helped too that some of their makeup hadn’t been totally washed off by the rain.

“I know you don’t wear it as often,” Jim said as they paused for a breath. “But you really do look amazing in eyeliner. I would not be against you wearing that every day, if you ever chose to do so.”

“Only if you wear it too,” Freddie smiled, then gasping at the friction of his cock at Jim’s hip.

“If you asked me, you know I would,” Jim said. “Wonder what the others would say?”

“Maybe we’d start a trend,” Freddie smirked. “Imagine that? Everyone in the house, any friends that come over-”

“All putting on eyeliner purely because we’ve taken to wearing it constantly,” Jim interrupted with a chuckle.

They smiled through their next kiss, even as their hips crashed together harder, more erratically.

It wasn’t quite at the same time, but damned close, that they came.

They rested against each other in the aftermath, eyes closed. Freddie’s hand on Jim’s chest, Jim’s arm pulling him close and a hand gently playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I wonder,” Jim broke the silence. “How hard it would be for Roger to get us more tickets like that. To that band, and any others he can think of?”

“I don’t know,” Freddie said. “But I don’t think he would mind getting us more regardless. Shall I ask him about this next weekend, if there’s anything coming up?”

“Or tomorrow night,” Jim smiled.

“Tomorrow?” Freddie chuckled. “To think, you’d not been to a concert before meeting me. Now look at you.”

“They’re alright,” Jim nodded. “So long as I’ve got you with me.”

“Romantic thing, you,” Freddie smiled, and kissed him softly. “Tomorrow night then, so long as he can get us tickets. And if he can’t...I’ll find a way to put a show on for you here.”

They cuddled close for another moment more before moving to clean themselves up. They returned to the bed only after they were done, and the door had been opened to let a patiently waiting Delilah in to lay on their bed.

#text post #LeeH writes #Queen band fic #freddie mercury x jim hutton

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