#and spent what felt like a year drawing out that lace pattern

[tonguetiedraven]

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Penelope Bridgerton’s 21st birthday

Pairings: Colin + Penelope Bridgerton

Summary: It is time for Penelope’s 21st birthday.

Main Masterlist | Polin Masterlist | Birthdays Masterlist

When Penelope was a young girl, she never properly celebrated her birthday. It was always pushed to the side as yet another day in the calendar. A constant reminder that she should have been born a boy and the heir to the Featherington estate.

Her older sisters (Prudence and Philippa) had always tore her down, giggling how Penelope preferred books, sitting by the window looking out onto Grovesner Square. Penelope didn't have the confidence to counter her sisters' words until she was forced into society a year younger than she had wanted.

She didn't realise what day it was, and the fact her 21st birthday had rolled around.

She woke up to find her husband between her legs (which wasn't an unusual occurrence), he brought her to her peak and shuffled his way up the bed.

"Good morning, my love," Penelope smiled, greeting him with a kiss - not caring, he still had some of her, left on his mouth.

"Good morning, Mrs. Bridgerton," Colin replied, pressing a second kiss to her nose. "Happy birthday."

Penelope knew she could easily blame the blissed-out state he caused for her moment of confusion. "Hmm? What did you say?"

"It's your birthday, Pen," he tells her, looking down at her with his own look of confusion.

"But, my birthday is the-"

"8th day of April. Which is today."

Penelope sits herself up and looks at Colin. "It's my birthday?"

The morning of her birthday (being one-and-twenty) was spent a lot different to how she had spent her previous one. Last year, she was acknowledged (somewhat) by her family, she and Eloise were not on speaking terms and she was ignoring Colin’s letters.

However, this year. She was married, happily. Ever so happily. And she had recently become a mama! To her darling Thomas. Deep down, she did not care what gender her baby was, she did hope for a little girl. A little girl all to herself.

Colin played with one of the loose ends of Penelope's updo, not really giving a damn what his mother-in-law was thinking about him. He was absolutely smitten with his wife. Nothing would ever change that.

He took his eyes off Penelope for just a moment, to glance out of the Featherington drawing room (the sounds of Prudence and Philippa complaining about anything falling on his deaf ears), he could see Anthony making his way across the square from Bridgerton House.

He felt a silent sigh of relief leave him. It wasn't that he didn't like his in-laws, but the way they treated Penelope grated him the wrong way.

"A visitor, Lady Featherington," Mrs. Varley told Portia as Anthony made his way into the yellow/green drawing room.

"Oh, my! Lord Bridgerton!" Portia gasps, sitting herself higher in her seat. Anthony was closely followed by Violet, who smiled (for just a second) at her daughter-in-law, cradling Thomas to her side, and then frowning just a little.

Anthony didn't say anything for a few moments. "I am sorry to interrupt this... lovely moment, but it is time Colin and Penelope came to Bridgerton House to continue the... festivities."

"What festivities?" Prudence asked.

Penelope looked down into her lap, reaching her hand over to lace her fingers with Colin's - acting as an anchor so he doesn't completely explode. "Whatever you are thinking, please, do not say it."

The hand, which wasn't laced with Penelope's, was now clutching the side of the patterned chair. "I believe it is time we were leaving, Pen," Colin tells his wife, as he hears Prudence repeat her words. "The festivities, Prudence? It is your little sister's birthday."

"It is your birthday?" Philippa asked.

“Oh, Phillipa,” Portia sighed, even before Philippa gave birth - she wasn’t the… smartest… of the bunch. Portia stood up and cupped her daughter’s face in her hands. “Do enjoy your birthday with the Bridgerton’s. We will be here when you come back for supper.”

Kate stood in front of the birthday girl, gently tying a party hat made by Violet beneath her chin. Penelope watched Colin chase the now toddling heir to the Bridgerton title - little Edmund II.

"Are you alright, Penelope?" The current Viscountess asked her sister-in-law.

Penelope was silent for a few beats. "How did you know you were expecting Edmund?" This was something they couldn’t discuss as Kate was on a trip to India with Anthony when Penelope realised she was expecting.

Kate looked at Penelope with wide eyes. "I was horrifically ill. You could not keep me away from a porcelain bowl if you tried," Kate chuckled for a moment. "Missing my courses was another sign."

"Were you ever tired?" Penelope asked. "I once had a three-hour nap on some sheets. Colin had to scrub the dried ink marks off my face,” they both giggled. “Before I was expecting Thomas, I loved salmon. But ever since, I haven’t been able to find myself in the same room. Even after the birth, I cannot stand it.”

Colin watched from the swings as Penelope and Violet were talking under the gazebo. He smiled as Violet reached over to play with the Featherington heir’s feet (although at 4 weeks old he is technically the new Lord Featherington).

"Uncle Colin!" Augie gave his uncle a child-like shove to his thighs. "Uncle Colin, you promised to play!"

Colin was somehow able to pull his attention back to his nephew. "Indeed, I did. I did promise you."

Colin crouched in front of his nephew, whilst keeping an eye on his mother, wife and son. There seemed to be a bit of a kerfuffle as something happened. He mentioned for Benedict to take over from what he was doing.

Augie made a noise of protest. "Auntie Pen needs to speak to me. Is it alright if Uncle Benedict plays with you?"

Augie's face twitched and looked at the other Bridgerton son. "I like you more," Augie told Benedict. The second-born son stuck his tongue out childishly as Colin got up from the ground.

"Pen?"

"Can you help me, darling?” She motioned to Thomas, who had sadly been sick all down the front of her new green dress.

Colin turned back around after sending Rae to get Penelope a new and (more importantly) clean dress from across the street, as well as something for Thomas.

“Come on, let’s get you both cleaned up,” he leaned down to kiss her but felt her step back. “Pen?” She has never stepped back from a kiss before.

“Do you honestly want to kiss me whilst I have your son’s breakfast down the front of my dress?”

“And I have never thought you could look more beautiful.”

“With Thomas’s breakfast on my dress?”

“As a mother to our baby boy, and being my beautiful wife.”

[lostinlewis]

Did it work?

Rating: M

Words: 1059

“I spent the whole of last year trying to get over you, I thought I was done…”

Lewis purred his words into your ear in an almost whisper as he stood just a little too close to you in the hallway.

“Did it work?”

He bit his lower lip with hunger as his eyes bore into yours, holding the most intense gaze as if he needed you to read his thoughts and know just how dangerous they were.

“Not even a little bit…you?”

His breathing was heavy, loaded with the weight of yearning for you, seeing you in person after so long had made his appetite for you insatiable and you both knew there was only one way to satisfy it.

“I tried…I really tried…”

His fingers brushed over your cheek so softly you almost couldn’t feel them, but that didn’t matter, your body ran with a shiver all the same at the slightest of touches.

Your lips were drawn towards them on instinct, so many nights you had with them to suckle on, so many nights they had been wrapped around your throat, it was impossible to not want the beautifully decorated fingers on your tongue once more.

“No one can do what I can do to you, can they sweetie?”

Your tongue found his tiger tattoo, placing the most exaggerated kiss on it as if to show him what you needed.

Your answer failed in words once more, the best you could manage was a shake of your head as you dared to even blink under his attention, scared that he might disappear once again.

“I want you.”

Lewis has given up his graceful inch of space he had left you to breathe, or escape, leaning into your neck to whisper those words to you, his hands now planted firmly beside your head.

“We can’t…not here, not now…”

His breathy chuckle tickled the skin of your cheek as his lips moved towards yours.

“Why not?”

There was little difference in your heights, especially in the heels you wore, yet as he stood just a breath away from you, his presence felt like he towered over you.

“People…our friends…they’re just in the next room…”

Your breathing was rapid now, your heart rate too. Lewis knew that as he danced his fingers over the base of your throat, drawing down to the breasts you had barely covered in your dress, you were struggling to find a reason why you couldn’t.

“Sweetie, I have never cared for anyone knowing how fucking wild you drive me and I’m not going to start now.”

His fingers found the cut of your dress, moving it to the side just enough to expose how pert your nipple was just from excitement.

As the cool hallway air met your sensitive skin your let out the softest of gasps, the moment he drew his lips around your teat, you could do nothing but moan.

“Lewis…shit…you’re making this so…so difficult.”

He sucked harder on your nipple before he rose up once more, leaving the taste of your skin on your lips as he kissed you.

“You know me better than anyone, you know that when I want something I want it now…and right now, I want you.”

The moment you felt his fingertips trace over the slit in your dress, drawn towards your thigh as if they were magnetic, you clenched in anticipation.

“What happened to the last time definitely being the last time?” 

Lewis was a tease more than he was impatient, and he was very impatient. He drew the very tip of his middle finger ever so lightly across the material of your lace panties, the swirl of the pattern he was drawing made sure he teased every part of you that wanted him just as much. 

“I said that before I saw that dress, how can I think about anything but tasting you when you wear something like that?” 

His lips met yours once more, for a brief moment he let the kiss linger, he let you feel the heat that radiated off of him for you, he let his hunger engulf you until it was all you could think about, all you could feel, and all you could taste. 

“You wouldn’t...not here...” 

You should have known what you were doing with that sentence, there was nothing more Lewis loved than to be challenged, to be dared to do something even if that something spelled nothing but danger; he thrived on danger. 

“Watch me...” 

Within seconds he was on his knees in front of you, both of his hands holding the tops of your thighs as he teased your panties to the side with his tongue until his access to the very part of you he had spent the whole night yearning for, was unrestricted. 

“Oh shit...” 

His tongue hit your clit with no care for the fact that you both were a wall away from the rest of the party, his pressure was so strong it made your head fall back to the wall and your hand down to his braids, a desperate measure to try and steady yourself when really, Lewis was not going to let you off easy at all. 

And he didn’t, he sucked at your clit like he wasn’t on his knees in the hallway of his friends apartment, he ate your pussy like he wanted you to scream out his name, like he needed you to tell everyone around who made you feel this good; he very nearly succeeded a few times. 

He tasted your orgasm near, he felt your thigh tighten around the neck it was wrapped around, and he very almost gave in to the urge to have you finish on his face until he stopped himself, right at the very last second. 

“Wha-why did you stop, I was so close?”

There was a smirk on his face as he rose to your level once more, wiping the parts of his beard that were covered in you, revelling at your frustration. 

“Like you said, we can’t do it here sweetie...” 

His fingers found your cheek to stroke once more, his others slotted in between yours, hanging in the air whilst he waited for you to catch your breath. 

“Besides, I need to hear the way you moan my name as you cum one more time...” 

[saltyxtides]

MONTGOMERY WARDEYN.

When Monty showed up for her Valentine’s Day visit for her brother she entered with a big over zealous and over dramatic hug for him. She set a ginormous basket of decandant candies and chocolates from all over the world down first. Then she smothered him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day brother of mine. Your Valentine has arrived. Aren’t you happy now? Cherish it now before you get stuck with mother all night. She’s already in the bathtub gin. Good luck with that.”

“I know I’m the best thing that ever happened to you and the highlight of your day. I’m the blessing of your life. You don’t even have to say it. I know you’ll never have a real girl out there for a Valentine but I got all prettied up, just for our dance. Don’t carry on how I’m better than another girl because I’ll never leave you like you always do, but it is true. I never will. Never, ever, EVER. Okay, I have a date after dropping you off with mom, but it’s for you too. She’s making me play shadow caddy. Ew. But, I love, uv you, wuv you.”  

Then she’d back up and do a little spin for him so he could see her dress all in pale pink lace. It was something designer though the real Bayden rarely called these things out, just told her she looked so pretty.

“Now where is it? Before we dance. Show me what little drawing or confection you’ve whipped up for me this year. Is it a poem? A song? Gimme, gimme.” Then she plopped herself right into his lap like an ever so close space invading sister might. “What quaint little BayBay way have you chosen to honor me this year?”

( @montywonmom​ )

       MONTGOMERY W a r d e y n buzzed around like she’d guzzled every drop of espresso.  Her actions were downright condescending like a Katy Perry parody video.  && they finally understood where Bayden’s arrogance stems from: that. 

       Dozen’s of times they had rehearsed Monty’s return in there head — the dramatic embrace, the exacting chosen gifts pattern last’s Christmas greetings.  They’re own breath felt tight, as if the walls were pressing in being constricted by something as dangerous as a python hugging them back weakly.  

       “ Happy Valentine’s Day, little sister. ”  A spin off of Montgomery’s own words used.  Only they didn’t look happy about Monty’s statement about DR.W a r d e y n.  The mama boy’s persona.  It was easy to show how they truly felt on the inside. A fiery scowl that felt like it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

       The more && more time they spent with Montgomery, in Bayden’s body the more his sister reminded them of Mother Gothel.  Only it’s the sibling addition Instead of listening through it, Monty’s voice began to sound tiny && helium high-pitched, as far away as an echo.

       If Bayden was meant to be controlled, that idjit would have come with a mother fucking remote.  But guess what?  He’s is own person.  What did his own sister really know about him?  It’s worse that his own sister didn’t even think about the concept of him ever falling in love.

       Could be a thing someday!  Anything was possible, but if it didn’t revolve around her, she wouldn’t notice.  He is a qualified person.  Not bothering to listen much after that, thus they lose more brain cells in the process.  Not quite looking to happy && keeping there thoughts to themselves.

       Only to be re-awakened into the moment when Monty sat on there lap.  Who did she think they were?  Jolly old St. Nicholas.  Wasn’t she a little to old to be sitting on his brother’s lap like this.  It was a high level of uncomfortable-ness, as she needed to leave room for the holy spirit.

       Not that they even believed in the holy spirit!  But damn girl give some space.  “ It’s not much. “ Taking a small bundle of daffodils — wrapped in yarn to hold it together ( god forbid the string nurse would come back again knowing Bayden’s luck ).  Freshly picked from the Asylum Grounds.

       Pink lemonade rock candy.  Though they couldn’t match Bayden's real skill of CHEF B o y b a y d e n style.  This was still food-relative?  Also re-using the cupcakes they made for them would have been safe, but let’s face it.  The calories consumption of a cupcake ( 131+ c. ) vs. rock candy ( 15 - 50 c. ).  

      It would be a waste to give them to her if she would just throw them away in the end.  Only now they had to try to finish things quickly between them.  As they didn’t want to stay anymore longer than they should.  “ Monty I’m not in the mood right now to stick around, fake a dance, so let’s JUST l e a v e.”

[mapileonxputellas]

Best Christmas Present (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Loved this Christmas one! Please send in anymore Christmas ideas... Requests 1, 2 and 3. 3k words x

“Final question for Y/N before we move onto Alexia.”

The joys of being the vice-captain of Barcelona meant joining Alexia for the press conference before the final game of the year. It felt like the middle of the night as you pulled up at the training session, hours before the training session all to face the questions of the media.

Having Alexia with you made it bearable, the two of you having been in a relationship for over four years now. The 7am wake up didn’t feel too bad when you were greeted with the love of your life in your shared home with Nala asleep at your feet.

“Y/N, how would you assess the season so far and what plans have you got for the Christmas break?”

A seemingly meaningless question to probably everyone in the room but one that brought up a touchy subject for yourself.

“In terms of the season so far I am pleased with both my own performance and the team overall but we know we cannot rest on that going into the new year. We’re more determined than ever to keep that unbeaten record in the league and reach the Champions League final again. We miss Alexia and others on the pitch at times but we’re trying to find alternative ways to break teams down effectively.” You answered, feeling your heart almost beat out of your chest as you thought about the second part of your answer. “I’m going to take the Christmas break to rest up and recharge ready for the new year in Spain.”

Out of all the things you loved about being Australian, the distance between there and your now home in Spain was not one of them. Christmas had never been an issue before, with the long break in the league you usually had time to travel there and back but this year the league structure meant that wouldn’t be possible and your parents’ health problems meant they couldn’t make the reverse journey.

“So you’re not travelling to Australia?”

“Sadly not.”

A simple answer but saying it out loud every time made it more real for you. Feeling a little nudge of your feat you slightly turned your head to find Alexia almost assessing you, making sure you weren’t going to breakdown so you sent her a weak smile accompanied by your blurry eyes.

Her smile immediately dropped noticing your mood and slightly scooted her chair over so her hand could grasp your own and draw patterns on your hand to calm you down.

The rest of the press conference was a blur for you, just focusing on the hand connected to your own and vaguely listening to Alexia. All you could think about was the new-found reality that you would be celebrating Christmas alone this year. This was your favourite holiday and it wouldn’t be the same on your own with no-one to celebrate with. This time the final question was a blessing as you quickly thanked the media before shuffling out of your seat.

You could feel Alexia’s eyes on you as you walked out the door but you didn’t have any time to talk about what had happened as you were thrust into a full changing room ready for the training session.

“Here come the love birds.” Claudia shouted as you entered. Trying to distract yourself you went straight over to your cubby between Ana and Jana. “Can’t even keep your hands off each other for twenty minutes.”

“Leave them alone.” Ana defended you. “They’re just in love.”

“What are you talking about anyway?” You questioned, quickly trying to change into the training gear.

“Let’s just say you weren’t as subtle as you thought you were.” Jana teased as you sat down. The young girl had spent a lot of time with both you and Alexia and often referred to you as her team mum.

“What?”

“Alexia getting handsy.” Mapi interrupted her. “You should see twitter honestly it’s like you’ve got married never mind just held hands in a press conference.”

“I thought it was cute.” Ingrid added. “Don’t listen to them.”

“I always preferred your girlfriend Mapi.”

“Right back at ya.”

Just as you finished tying your boot laces a hand came and rested on your knee before your girlfriend came into your vision, kneeling down in front of you. Her glances around the room gave away that she was waiting for the room to clear before she spoke.

“Are you ok?” She whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me….”

“Can we do this later? Please.” You almost begged, not wanting to get upset and then have to go out into the cold.

“Promise you’ll talk to me later.”

“I promise.” You replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you for back there.”

“Anything for you.”

….

You avoided the conversation for as long as you possible could by busying yourself around other people. Offering to give Jana a lift home who lived round the corner from you both, taking the longest shower possible and busying yourself with making tea before you sat down together for dinner, ready to face the music.

The silence was overwhelming as you both sat down, twirling the pasta round your fork as you avoided eye contact. Slowly making your way through the meal.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Alexia broke the silence.

“It’s complicated Alexia.”

“What’s complicated for me is the fact that you didn’t want to tell me.”

“There’s nothing you can do though, your family is here and mine’s not.” You wiped away the sole tear that was slowly trickling down your face. “I thought they were going to come here but then with their latest problems the health insurance wouldn’t cover them. But it’s fine, I’ve got everything I need here and we can celebrate together the day after.”

This time though it was Alexia who was confused. “What?”

“It’s fine at least you’ll get two Christmases.”

“Babe take a step back, I’m not letting you spend Christmas day alone.”

“I mean what other choice do I have?”

“Spend it with us.” She reached over to grab your hand. “My mum always cooks enough for the whole village and she loves you.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s your family Ale.”

Well and truly before this year you’d never even had the option of celebrating Christmas together with the distance between you all. “They’re your family too and before you ask whether they’d be OK with it, my mum will be just worried the whole day if she knows you’re spending the day alone.”

“I feel like I’d be intruding.”

“I promise you wouldn’t be, this past year you’ve been a rock to me and my family and we owe you this at least.”

“You don’t owe me anything Ale.”

“I do, you gave up so much of your time watching me playing football, all those nights you stayed with me in hospital and then you’ve been the brunt of all my mood swings.”

“I did it because I love you.”

“And I love you so let me do this for you now.” Ale slipped out of her seat before gently sitting on your lap. “You know one day we’ll have both our families together, little ones running around and we won’t be the guests anymore. Consider this the first step in that, I don’t want to spend Christmas apart from you any longer, I’ve done that for four years and that’s long enough.”

“You’re a good persuader Miss Putellas.” She was getting to you and the smirk on her face said she knew that as her fingers gently dragged back and forth on your exposed collar bone.

“Please, I won’t be able to celebrate if I know you’re here all alone.”

“I’m calling your mum tomorrow and double checking this is alright with her.”

“Is that a yes?”

Reaching up you gently grabbed her chin to draw your eyes together. “Yes Ale, I’d love to spend Christmas with you.” The only way to seal the deal was with a kiss which you almost immediately pulled away from as a thought came into your head. “I need a full list of who will be there so I can add them to the Christmas present list.”

“Babe I’ve already started just putting both our names on them.”

“Really?”

“Well the shit ones I just put your names on.”

“Very funny.”

Moments like these cemented how much you loved the woman on your lap, throughout all the moments her newfound fame had given her she was still your Ale. As your lips gently caressed each other’s you thought of the perfect way to thank her for all of this to truly show how much you loved her and thankfully you knew exactly how you could do that.

….

Christmas with the Putellas family was definitely an experience. You knew how much Eli loved being a host and that showed on Christmas day.

From the beginning you were made to feel just as much a part of the family as Alba and Alexia: from the stocking embroidered with your name on to the heap of presents for you. It almost made you emotional thinking about the family that you had gained from your love for the Spaniard.

The day however only grew from there with family member after family member being welcomed into the house. Even though you had met everyone before it was still quite overwhelming so you tried to help Eli as much as possible in the kitchen. Cooking was definitely your other passion away from football and it helped you to forget about all the craziness going in the other room.

“How is my favourite daughter finding today?” Eli asked as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder before dropping down into a whisper. “Have you got a plan yet?”

Before you could even answer though another voice piped in. “Wow mama you could at least pretend not to have favourites.”

You loved Alba like a sister and you knew she was only joking, further shown as she joined you in a group hug. “Alba is just jealous.”

“No me and Alexia always knew you was the favourite. Alexia sent me to get you by the way, we’re playing games with the children.”

“Tell her I’m helping mama.”

“No you go.” Eli almost pushed you out, giving you her best authoritative look. “You’ve helped me more than enough today.”

“I’ll be back.” You promised.

The living room was far from the quiet serenity of the kitchen, both the sofas were filled with extended family, children were scattered across the carpet playing all sorts of different games and you found your girlfriend on the armchair trying to work out the latest game they wanted to play. You couldn’t help but watch as she tried to answer the questions of her young cousins all whilst looking incredible in the black blazer set she’d settled on, a stark contrast to your red dress. Your thoughts were interrupted though as Alba bumped your shoulder knocking you out of the daydream.

“Having a bit of trouble there.” You teased taking a seat on the arm of the chair. “These are supposed to be for children you know.”

“Shut up.” With one arm still holding onto the instructions the other tugged your waist causing you to slide down the arm of the chair onto her lap. You couldn’t help but press a kiss to the top of her head as she still tried to wrap her mind around the game.

“How about I do the next game?” You announced getting the attention of all the kids. “Count to twenty and I’ll be back.”

Scrambling to go to your backs you left in Alexia’s old room you found the parcel in your overnight bag ready for this exact scenario. Coming empty handed was never an option for you.

“Here it is.” You announced getting everyone’s attention. “Who wants to play pass the parcel?”

Your suggestion was met with a round of cheers as everyone got into a circle to include all the adults on the sofas. Taking a seat on the floor you were ready to start when one of Alexia’s cousins, Ana, sat down on your lap. Your arms instantly wrapped around the young girl as you started the music, each time letting the girl pass the parcel on to Alexia.

“Why did you not sit with me?” Alexia asked Ana dangling her hand over the chair to tickle the girl, pouting to feign her hurt.  

“Want Auntie Y/N.” Even just her calling you Auntie made your heart skip a beat, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to now call these people your family.

“Yeah Auntie Ale.” You teased sticking your tongue out.

“She’s my favourite too.” Ale admitted to the little girl, faking a whisper. “Don’t tell her than though.”

“Secret.” The little girl whispered, thinking this was a real secret even though you could obviously hear both of them.

“Yeah keep it a secret.”

“What are you two talking about?” You asked gaining the attention of Ana who simply curled back into your lap.

“Nothing.” She answered. “Love you.”

“I love you too.”

Alexia couldn’t help but just look the at the two of you together. Your attention split between a conversation with her uncle and trying to soothe the girl in your lap.

“You’re so whipped.” Alba whispered teasingly into her sister’s ear. “Stop staring.”

“Shut up Alba.”

…..

Your moment didn’t come till after the meal had finished and everyone was still sat around talking. Alexia was curled up on the chair next to you, both of your hands intertwined on your lap as you mixed with everyone. But the box in your bag upstairs could no longer be ignored and now felt like the moment.

“I’m just nipping to the bathroom,” You whispered to Ale before slipping out the room.

Quickly refreshing yourself in the bathroom before retrieving the little box hidden in your overnight bag. You’ve played in front of nearly one hundred thousand people in your career but this is the most nervous you’ve felt before.

You couldn’t stop your hands from shaking as you slowly made your way into the dining room again. Stopping behind Ale’s chair your hands rested on her shoulders as you cleared your throat to gain the attention of the room, all eyes suddenly focused on you.

“Sorry for interrupting all your conversations but I just wanted to say something in front of you all. Firstly I want to thank you for today, you’ve all welcomed me into your family and took me in as one of your own. To Eli, thank you for being an amazing host and for the amazing food.”

“Which you helped with.” She pointed out. “We’ve all loved having you here, plus Ale would have spent the whole day being miserable without you.”

“Whining even more than usual.” Alba teased her sister.

“As you all know I’ve been with Ale for more than four years now and they’ve been the best of my life.” You started, Alexia turning to face you. “We’ve been through more struggles than anyone will know, with injuries and the pressures of being who we are but we’ve always had each other and I know I wouldn’t have come this far without you by my side.”

“What’s all this for?” Alexia asked.

You ignored her question to continue. “You’re my best friend. I love everything about you even when you keep me awake snoring at night or when you burn my toast in the morning. You’re always the first to offer to give me a massage after a match, you always remember my green tea in the morning but more than that you make me feel more loved than I’ve ever felt before.”

The realisation of what was slowly happening was dawning on Alexia as tears streamed down her face.

“I’d love nothing more than to have the rest of my life to continue to show you how much you mean to me and stand by your side to share every moment together.” You said, slowly getting down on one knee, opening the box to reveal the ring you’d chosen. “So Alexia Putellas Segura, will you do me the greatest honour and be my wife?”

“Yes, yes of course I will.” Immediately shooting out of her chair she wasted no time in gathering you in her arms, spinning you around in the air. “I love you so much.” She whispered, planting you back down on the floor to kiss you.

“I love you too. I hope you like the ring.”

“It’s perfect. Everything you choose is perfect.” Taking the simple but elegant diamond ring in your hand you slid it onto her finger like a glove.

It’s only then that you realise you’re not alone in the room, both of your eyes immediately turning to Eli and Alba. Tears uncontrollable streaming down their faces as they gathered you in a group hug.

“I’m so happy for you both.” Eli whispered, kissing both of your heads. “No-one deserves this more than you two.”

“You’re both made for each other.” Alba added, first hugging you as Eli took Alexia in her arms. “That ring as well, wow.”

“You should thank Eli for that as well.” You admitted as you swapped to get your hug from Eli. “I can’t take all the credit for that.”

“You knew?”  Alexia turned to the both of you.

“Y/N came to me a few months ago and asked for my permission which I of course gave her. I didn’t know she as planning on doing it tonight though.”

“It just felt right.” You admitted. “All your family here and we both love Christmas. Of course I’d love to have met your father and ask him but I felt this was only right.”

That again set Alexia off as the tears started again. “I love you.”

“I love you too my fiancée.” Bringing her into your arms the cheers started as you sealed it with another kiss. “Forever.”

“Forever with you.”

[stygianflood]

Hideaway (Ethan x F!MC)

Summary: As promised, a very canon-divergent version of Ethan’s... dark mood. 3.8; Ethan’s PoV

Words, rating, genre, trope- 1.5k, General, Fluff (but the tone is angsty); hurt/comfort

A/N- It bothered me that Ethan’s demand for consolation was an either-this-or-nothing sort of scenario, when we know the real Ethan Ramsey would never! In this universe Ethan just leaves refusing MC’s offer to help. Much like Book 1 ❤ Also, I really tried to make sense of whatever PB is making Harper do. And there might be an Easter egg near the end.

The amber liquid sloshes down his throat, trickling into the more labyrinthine crevices of his mind, sharp and biting. Somewhere in a sky not veiled by the havoc of civilisation, a forlorn sun pours itself in a steady drip. 

For each of the last fifteen minutes, his finger has been teetering on the brink of a call he knows he’ll make.

I don’t need you to follow me, Aparna. I knew there could be consequences. 

I made my bed... The least I can do is lie in it.

She stood before him, under the lurid new lights of the revamped atrium. Face contorted in worry, and something else he is no longer a stranger to.

That doesn’t mean you have to weather them alone. 

I care about you. Talk to me.

And she looked no older than she did in her first year. 

In those days the atrium housed the trees planted in his intern year, and some even older. And Aparna had implored him to stay. Because the patients needed him. Because she needed him. 

Ethan was not brave enough to admit he needed her more than she would ever need him. That part of them remains pitifully unaltered.

This time however, it’s different from letting her in. It’s about beating the devil at his own game. Wrestling his slippery self on a rock face. 

He wonders what it’s like on the other side of the tunnel. The darker side that the likes of Bloom inhabit. The one that doesn’t have its throat slit by the glare of street lights. More importantly, how do the likes of Dr. Ramsey beat him at his own game and remain unscathed.

He’s being reckless. Dangerously so. But whatever else he might tell himself, he is lonely too.

Cloistered in an apartment that never felt emptier, he can almost hear her terrible joke on fingers of scotch. When did the notoriously single Ethan Ramsey become this dependent he wonders.

After four arduously long rings, he almost disconnects the call.

‘Ethan?’

‘Hey.’

The silence stretches into a long and restless twilight across his windows, and he thinks he ought to ask about her day. She beats him to it.

‘Do you want me to come over?’ 

‘That… That would be nice.’

She definitely rolls her eyes on the other side of the line. 

***

‘Do you ever wish you’d settled for someone… less complicated?’ He avoids her eyes fixing his own on the ceiling. 

The fingers massaging his forehead stall for the briefest quarter of a second before resuming. The slight shift finds his head even more snugly settled in her lap.

He feels stifled by an all-consuming sense of helplessness. And it’s different from the trickiest diagnoses when he knows he’s giving his all and failing. It is a plethora of all that is wrong with the system. The one he has been pitted against all his life, and mostly managed to thwart.

Ethan Ramsey never settles for half-measures. Not when he can help it. And with Bloom, he cannot. 

Not unless he tips the scales in his favour. And it has taken the last morsel of his sanity to plot it.

No loose ends. Or second footprints for that matter. One more ethics hearing and her career would end before it began, and Naveen himself could do nothing about it.

Yet here he is. The irony of it biting, as the one person he needs to protect by all means is the one being implicated. If Harper, one of the most level-headed people he knows-

‘Besides the fact that I’m nowhere close to being settled?’ Aparna interrupts his thoughts from somewhere above him. 

Oh.

‘Sorry, I didn't mean-’ 

Of course she is grinning. Annoyingly smug and utterly distracting. 

He could kiss her senseless and wipe the smirk off those lips. Make her moan right here on the couch. 

He almost does.

‘Did you wish you weren’t involved with someone whose medical license was about to be revoked?’ She asks.

Her fingers rove about his temple, right where he has recently seen specks of silver. And he awaits a joke about his age that never comes.

‘Ethan…’

God, he hopes he doesn’t look that miserable.  

‘I need you to know I’d go anywhere with you. And I mean that-’ She holds his chin to turn his face. ‘I mean that in every sense of the word. Thought you’d know by now.’

She looks strangely composed. 

It could be the immensity of her proclamation. Or the ease with which it has rolled off her tongue. But it alarms him. Not because he isn’t ready, because make no mistake he is. It alarms him because she is doing it again. 

In that moment all of his life could flicker past him like the tedious crackle of an old television set, and he’d still be enraptured by the unwavering intent in her eyes.  

And she looks no older than she did in her first year. 

He raises a hand grazing the softness of her neck. Her cheek. And the corner of her parted lips. 

Come here is all he manages before drawing her face to his own.

He only vaguely remembers the drive back home when he wanted to be in control of his life. He has never felt more disarmed. Or more- he discerns the lump in his throat- in love.

Beads of crimson settle on the horizon, and in the abandoned dregs of his whisky. The natural order of things calls for day and night. Much in the same way it summons droughts and downpour.

And as for him, he’d come undone for her again and again.

***

The stillness of the air is riddled by his own ragged breaths mingling with hers. And the deluge in his mind almost subsides. 

‘Glad that I stayed?’ She props herself on her elbows and lazily smiles down at him.

‘Always.’

She peppers the column of his neck with a final drizzle of kisses before burying one languid hand in his hair and settling against him. Just as the silence is splintered by the buzz on his coffee table.

Thankfully it’s not her pager. Just her phone. And her fingers resume their stroking of his hair.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Pleasantly spent.’ It’s his first genuine smile in hours. ‘But really, several things at once.

‘And I’ll talk to Harper as soon as I can.’

‘I appreciate that, but… I think we need to talk to each other,’ She says. ‘For the team, but also for ourselves. 

‘I need to be able to forgive her. Not today perhaps. But I need to do it.’

He agrees. But he is baffled that Harper should accuse her now. Especially when she was willing to wait for evidence when Aparna had actually breached ethics as an intern.

Is it his tactlessness he wonders, as she loops his arm around herself. Speaking over her inputs, denying the credibility she has earned in the team by sheer hard work. 

Creating the impression that she’s still just an intern with history.

As her breath cools the sheen of sweat on his chest, he instinctively gathers her even closer. And not for the first time that evening, he feels he doesn’t deserve her.

Damage control, the interminable mutterings in his mind suggest. He needs to ensure Harper has not spoken to anyone outside the team. And Tobias has not prattled. Perhaps give Naveen a heads up.

‘Check that,’ He remarks as her phone buzzes again. ‘It could be work.’ 

But just as he is about to disentangle himself to make the calls, he sees them.

Just wanted to check on you. 

Hope you’re not beeting yourself up over it.

Not a saved contact on her phone he realises. But it’s familiar. A little too familiar. He decides against asking.

She shakes her head with a faint half-smile before replacing the phone and curling up to him. She loops an arm about his chest as he strokes rehearsed patterns on her back. 

It’s minutes before they startle the peace.

‘Thank you for being here tonight, Apu,’ He almost whispers. ‘For helping me work through this.'

‘I meant what I said, Ethan,’ She says. ‘I’ll always be there for you. 

‘Even when I don’t agree with you.’

And it’s there again. That frightfully alarming calm on her face every time she promises to leap.

When he takes her bottom lip between his teeth, it’s with the ardour of a disciple who did not just invoke her minutes ago, or this morning, or into the wee hours of the night before. 

‘And I hope,’ He manages breathlessly. ‘I hope I never take that... Take you for granted.’

She doesn’t respond. Except for the immutable glimmer in her eyes. And he knows.

He decides he will call Naveen and Harper once she’s asleep. He’ll not unsettle her. Not when it might never happen. 

‘What happens when we go back out there?’

If he only knew.

‘Let’s get you to bed.’ He smiles, lacing his fingers with hers.

His life has long stopped being the neatly stacked manila folders he’d once sorted it into. For all he knows, it could be dipped and bent in all directions tomorrow. 

But he also knows she will be right there on the promontory with him.

Thank you all for reading this!  A special shout-out to @starrystarrytrouble​ because I had the inspiration to write after ages solely because of our chat ❤

Let me know if you’d want to be added or removed.

[coachtedwelton]

i got you

summary - 2x10 - Rebecca hasn’t cried over her father yet, he is determined to be there when she does.

tw / revolves around the death of a parent.

He realises she hasn’t let herself cry over her loss while they’re at her fathers funeral, her hand on her mother’s back as she cries silently for the man she spent half of her life with. He watches her as she holds her head higher, swallowing down her grief as she inhales and he wishes he could do something for her, knows how much loosing a father hurts, but he can not even imagine how she must be feeling, her tainted relationship with her father something he’s aware of, and he worries about her. About what could happen if she continues to hold it all in. She turns, catching his eye and he smiles sadly with a small nod and she smiles back, but the pain behind her eyes is all he can see, and he wants to wrap her in his arms, let her know he’s there for her… he watches her for the entire service with concern, because if she doesn’t allow herself to feel it… she’ll never heal. He knows that all too well. 

She spends the first half of the wake shaking hands and accepting condolences from people she hasn’t seen in years, listens to people’s stories of her father with a fake smile, biting her tongue as they talk about how loving he was, how caring and sweet because that is not the man she remembers. It’s not that he was cold or cruel, but he was not warm, never one to offer a hug when needed, never home in time for dinner, he used his money to keep her mother in line, buying her gifts, buying her love, and as she got older, he did the same to her. As if he thought that he could buy their love when all he had to do was just be there.

She sneaks out slowly, around the corner and up the stairs before anyone could register her absence and as she closes the door to her childhood bedroom, she leans against it with a sigh, closing her eyes as she breathes deeply, letting the silence wash over her. The noise from downstairs gradually gets louder as she sits on the bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of her, half listening to the chaos erupting in her childhood home, half zoned out, memories of her father flashing in her mind and she wonders for a moment, how different things could have been for her and her father if she’d had reached out, if he had reached out, but it’s a pointless game, because neither ever did, and now he’s gone. Forever.

The three taps on her door are what bring her back, snapping herself from the wallowing pit she was falling into, and she clears her throat before whispering a small come in, because she knows that's knock. Knows who’s on the other side, and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t been waiting for him.

“Hey boss,” he says softly as he enters the room, quietly closing the door behind him and he stands there, waiting for her to give permission to join her, because he’s sweet, and he’s nice, and he cares about her, about her boundaries and he refuses to push them, people have been pushing them for too long.

“Hi Ted.” she smiles sadly, “thank you for coming today. I know it can’t be easy after—” she stops, his soft nod the only answer she needs.

“Anything for you, boss.” he smiles and she chuckles, dropping her head as she holds back a smile, her heart fluttering in her chest because he means that and no one ever has before. “I thought you might be hungry…” he smirks, holding out of plate of buffet sandwiches and wraps. “Thought we’d share a plate. Enjoy the silence together while it lasts.” he tells her and she smiles, tapping the space next to her as an indication to join her and he nods, taking a seat next to her and they both ignore the jolt of… something they feel as the side of their legs press together. He hands her a sandwich and she smiles, taking it from him, looking away as she rips it apart.

“You doin’ okay?” he asks gently, watching her in the corner of his eye as he takes a bite of the wrap he picked up.

“As well I can be.” she says, a sad smile on her lips, tilting her head to look at him. “I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

“Just because the day passes, doesn’t mean it’s over, Rebecca. Grief is a process. A long one.” he says softly and she looks away.

“Maybe so,” she agrees, “but me and my father weren’t close, I haven’t… hadn't spoken to him in years…”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be sad you lost him.” he tells her, “Doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to grieve.”

“Sort of feels that way.” she whispers, staring down at the uneaten sandwich in her hand and he drops the plate to the floor quietly, taking the sandwich from and dropping it to the plate before taking her hands, letting his eyes burn into hers for the first time in weeks and he pushes, he pushes because she needs him to, because if she doesn’t forgive herself, it will have a hold on her forever. He knows.

“It’s okay to be sad,” he whispers, “it’s okay to cry, scream… anything. Because you lost your dad. It doesn’t matter how you felt about him or if he was good enough… it doesn’t matter that you haven’t spoken or seen him in years… nothing matter expect you and how you feel and it’s okay to cry. You loved your dad, and now I may never have met the man, but I know, as a dad myself, that he loved you even if he never really showed it.” he continues softly, squeezing her hands gently as her eyes glass over, watches her swallow the lump in her throat as she shakes her head, as though she believes she doesn’t have the right to grieve.

“It’s just me here,” he says gently, and she looks at him again, “just me and you, and if you want to cry, shout… even just talk, I’ve got you, Rebecca. And no one has to know.”

“I should have reached out,” she says, her voice breaking, “should have tried harder to re connect with him.”

“It works both ways. He could have reached out as well, don’t beat yourself up about that.”

“He died thinking I hated him.” she whispers brokenly, a tear rolling down her cheek. Ted lifts a hand from hers and wipes it, allowing his hand to cup her cheek as she looks at him and he smiles sadly.

“He never thought you hated him, and he never hated you. It’s impossible.” he tells her, “your dad loved you, Rebecca. And he’d want you to forgive yourself.”

“I can’t.” she whispers sadly, shaking her head and his heart breaks.

“You can.” he nods, “because there’s nothing to forgive.” he tells her, “a fathers love is unconditional, and you were loved by him, unconditionally… I know that for sure.” he tells her, and he counts to three in his mind, waits to see if he got through to her, if she will allow herself the right to be sad, and as he gets to three he just wants to hold her, to help her, and then a sob leaves her chest and the dam breaks.

He pulls her into him, holding her tightly as she cries, her head resting safely in his neck as he runs a hand down her back, holding down his own tears as he tries to soothe her.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, “I got you.” he tells her, kissing the side of her head as he holds her, wraps her in his arms as she grieves. “I got you.”

They stay like that for awhile, her sobs turning to soft cries, her tears wetting his neck as he continues to whisper soft, gentle words to her, stories of no meaning just so she has something to tether to, his voice known to calm people even in their worst states, his fingers drawing gentle patterns on her back. She tilts her head to the side, resting it peacefully on his chest and laces a hand in his, watching as he traces a pattern across her fingers.

“Thank you.” she whispers after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“For what?”

“Everything.” she says, and he chuckles, kisses the top of her head and smiles.

“Coupon for life.” he reminds her and the small laugh she lets out his enough for him to know she’s going to be okay. That they’re going to be okay.

(when he kisses her in the rain in the middle of the pitch at midnight when they’re finally alone after they win the whole fucking thing, she smiles into it, a small what took you so long whispered against his lips, he thinks back to all the small moments that got them here, and realises that moment in her childhood bedroom was the moment and now this is theirs.)

fin

[jewin-your-mom]

Here is my entry for @slocotion​ ‘s last contest of the year! Forgive me for posting this close to the deadline; I have spent weeks perfecting her design and story. While I may not be the best at art, I hope my entry is at least considered! Dr. Belladonna Marmalade is the local doctor in her small, Russian village! She has a unique way of going about things; get on her good side, and her bitter-tasting medicine will cure all of your ailments and send you on your merry way! Get on her bad side...and her treatment might make you feel worse than you've ever felt. 

Her hat is embellished with her home-grown mushrooms, and she'll often offer these to small children to eat! Apparently, they taste quite good both by themselves and in soup. If you steal them from her without her permission, they require an antidote in the next 30 minutes to prevent paralysis, shock, and death. Her clothes and face are adorned with gorgeous shades of white, pink and gold to appeal to those she wants to trust her; kids love playing with the bits and baubles on her clothing, and the village woman are always complimenting her on her adorned frills and jewels! Those who get to know her anger, however, only see her bulging red eyes, always-gloved hands and never revealed face. Dr. Marmalade uses what she calls her 'spores' in the air to cure disease wherever she may walk! She keeps these spores in the oversized Birds' Nest Fungi that grow on her belt. If she is especially concerned for a family, she will remove one of these mushrooms and leave it behind for them as she continues her travels. Design Notes under the Read More! Warning for photos of mushrooms/fungi if that kind of stuff grosses anyone out.

I wanted to keep Belladonna more in the realm of 'plague doctor based on mushrooms' rather than 'mushroom person based on plague doctors', which was difficult to achieve without completely removing the classic plague doctor hat and shawl, but I managed to incorporate the patterns of many inedible/poisonous fungi into her design. Her bulging red eyes are based on the 'blood' of the Bleeding Tooth mushroom, and I believe they can be made out of the same clay as her body. If that does not work, filling the eyeholes with red resin may also work (again, I am no dollmaker so I have no clue what you'd actually do in a doll like Belladonna.)

Her shawl that lays on her shoulders puffs out and has multiple layers of lace underneath to add volume. This is a subtle nod to the deadly frills of the Amanita Verna mushroom, which is poisonous enough to kill a man. 

The gold cover that goes over her petticoat and the gold web-like pattern on her sleeves, hat, belt and anklets are nods to the Bamboo Pith, a stinkhorn that has very intricate web-like gills. This mushroom is specifically known for its ability to attract insects and animals to spread its spores, which I subtly acknowledged in her short backstory. (Note: While the Pith itself is edible, there are many poisonous mushrooms with this same web pattern, like the Clathrus Ruber. The Pith is just the best reference for said pattern. I am not going to torture any poor fabric makers/cutters by giving you a reference photo of a tightly-packed mushroom gill lol.)

The spore-carriers on her hip are based off of the common, yet inedible Birds' Nest fungi, which are known for bursting and launching their spores out everywhere to spread their growth. I am not sure what these could be made of. Possibly clay, resin, thick felt or anything strong enough to hold up on fabric.

There are plenty of other little mushroom-inspired things in her design, but I also kept in mind the multicolored patterns and intricate clothing of the classic Slocotion plague doctor doll. That being said, I am absolutely okay with any fabric of this doll being replaced with a different pattern/texture. This design is absolutely open to editing in any way imaginable. If I get considered, but an element needs to be reworked, edited or removed for it to be passable, I am absolutely okay with that. I am just really excited for the opportunity to be included in such a wonderful artist’s contest in the first place. Happy New Year’s Eve to anyone who read this far! (P.S. I can't draw lace very well, but the frilly stuff on the sides of her pants and under the main pink fabric of her shawl are meant to be frilly lace. I wanted these to subtly reference the 'fluffiness' of the gills of many mushrooms.)

[inseongsfoxybae]

Breeding kink with SF9

Pairing: Member + Female Reader; established relationship

Genre: Pure Smut with a pinch of Fluff

Warnings: Consensual unprotected sex, dom! member, some dirty talk, a little overstimulation, mentions of oral (female receiving), cockwarming [and aftercare, 'cuz we know how sweet our boys are]

Requested: Hi! If you’re taking requests, can I please have a breeding kink with sf9?

Author's message: Hello, dear anon! It took some time, but your request it's finally here. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Feel free to send in new requests later 😊 Thank you ❤

P,S: As english is not my mother language, it may contain misspelled. Also, sorry if there’s any other mistakes :)

Youngbin

You were in the kitchen preparing breakfast while a sleepy Youngbin observed you sitting on the small table of your shared home. Well, maybe Youngbin wasn't that sleepy anymore, staring at your back as you moved to and fro over the kitchen.

He loved watching you walking around, focused on anything you were doing, the way your lips smile up a little and humm a happy song, the way your eyes perk up when something is done and, mainly, the way your curves stand out in your clothes.

He loves you and that's enough to make him breathless, and the thought of you carrying his kids one day turns him on desperately. He got up of his seat and approached you, hugging you from behind as he cradled his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deep your scent. "You smell so good, baby", he murmured against your soft skin causing you to shiver. "Yeah? You like it?", you asked trying to held your gasps when he started to kiss your sweet spots. "I love it. But you know what else I love most?", now his hands were under your shirt, drawing slow patterns there. "What?", your voice was getting shaky. "Your body... naked... on our bed... now", he whispered in your ear between kisses on your shoulders.

He pulled you even deeper into his body, so that now you could feel his hard member poking your butt. "Let's skip breakfast today, baby. Making love to you can't wait any longer", he said turning you around in his arms and lifting you by your ass, your legs unconsciously wrapping around his waist as your mouths crashed together in a lustful kiss.

Youngbin dragged your bodies to your bedroom, plopping you on bed and immediately taking off both of your clothes. He leaned in on top of you again kissing you hungrily, his shaft grinding against your folds causing you to moan deliciously into his mouth.

Suddenly, a warning came to your mind and you broke the kiss. "Binnie...", you looked at him. "Yes, baby. What's wrong?", he stopped his movements and slowly took some strands of hair off your face. "I'm not on my pills right now", you carefuly said to him. "I know, love. But I'm willing to take the risk if you want this too", Youngbin softly answered. "But you know the consequences... Are you sure?". "I'm sure. I want to make love to you, want to cum inside you and want you to carry my children", he kissed you again, tenderly this time. "Are you really okay with that?", he asked one last time looking into your eyes. "Yes", you stared at him lovely and you both smiled.

Youngbin returned to his ministrations on your body as your hands palmed him to make his member harder. Once you both were prepared, he entered you little by little, thrusting slowly till he was full deep into you. Sex with Youngbin was always spectacular, and even now after so many years together and even after you got married, it was still amazing.

But it was different this time. He has never been so careful and so affectionate to you this way. His thrusts were deep but slow and somehow tender, he found your sweet spots immediately and just followed his steady rhythm, both of your moans were as soft and full on love as your pace.

At some point, your legs started to shake and his length twitched inside you as your climaxes were close. With a few more thrusts on the right spots, both of you came in a powerful orgasm, his white seeds painting your walls, filling you up perfectly.

You two were breathless and sweaty, but a silly smile lighted up your tired faces. Youngbin pulled you on top of him, embracing you tenderly, leaving small kisses on your lips, forehead and temples. "Do you think it worked?", he wondered. "Hhhhmmm... maybe", you replied and you both laughed. You know it didn't matter and you weren't worried nor in a hurry. You just cared about feeling and loving each other in every ways possible. And you wanted to stay together as much as you live.

Inseong

You were teasing your boyfriend all day, walking around only on your panties and some cropped top and making positions that were driving him crazy.

It was around sunset when you both lay down on the couch to watch a movie, Inseong laying on top of you, his head resting on your chest, hands loosely around your sides. You stayed calm for a while, till you feel him squirming uncomfortable and his heartbeat increasing. "Baby, what's wrong?", you asked him, his face now buried between your breasts. "Nothing", he growled against your skin, sliding one of his hands to your belly and caressing softly there, before going down to the hem of your panties.

He moved a little and you realized his bulge against your thigh. "What's our little friend doing here, huh?", you teased him again, but this time he couldn't control himself and started to grind on you. "I want you, bae. I want to fill you with my seed right here, right now", he panted while his slender fingers started their work on your already wet core.

His mouth explored your now exposed boobs, imagining how big they'd become because of him. You arched your back with the growing pleasure, your hands tugged on his hair while little moans sliped out your mouth. "In-seong", you panted begging for his lips on yours, as he obeyed. His kisses were heated but tender, while he slided your soaked panties down your hips and cradled himself between your legs.

Your hands succeeded in taking off his boxers too and he didn't waste time to positionate his hard length on your entrance, filling you up to the brim slowly. You both moaned at the feeling as he immediately started to move in and out of you, holding you tight between his arms.

His movements were fast and deep and the thought of filling your pussy with his semen was pushing him over the edge. Both of your moans filled the room and your breaths were heavy when you felt him twitching inside you. "Cum for me, baby", you whispered on his ear. "I can take it... Let's do this... together", he growled breathless.

Now, his member found your g-spot and you felt your high approaching as well. "Inseong, I'm gonna...", you couldn't finish your sentence. "Me too, babe", he said right away, pulling you even closer and hitting you even deeper. With some more thrusts, your orgasm washed over you and the extra pression on his member sent him off too.

He slowed his thrusts till a halt while peppering your sweaty neck with sweet kisses, moving up to your jawline and cheeks and forehead, making you giggle as you ran your hands along his back. "Are you keeping me inside?", his eyes were bright and sweet. "I'll do my best", you chuckled and reached for his cheek. 

Inseong laughed and slipped out of you, changing positions to lay both of you on your sides. Then, he pulled you closer and you buried your face on his neck, leaving small pecks there. "I love you, Seongie", you mumbled against his skin. "I love you too, my love", he lifted your head to kiss you tenderly, slowly sliding his tongue into your mouth and lacing with yours, his right hand running through your back, caressing your waist and landing on your low stomach. "And I want you to carry my babies some day", he whispered against your lips and you kissed him again smiling. " I will", you said softly and snuggled closer to his chest. You spent the rest of the night curling up on each other till fell asleep right there on the couch.

Jaeyoon

You and Jaeyoon were cuddling on bed in the morning, right after you woke up, while talking about your relationship and plans for the future. “Baby, do you remember our first date?”, you wondered tracing the defined muscles of his arms. “Of course I do. I was so nervous that I arrived at the cinema two hours”, he chuckled running his hands through your back. “And you finally got there, you were so stunning that my heart almost stopped”, he continued and both of you burst into laughter. “Don’t be so dramatic”, you teased. “No, that’s true. Luckily, I could manage it throughout the date or you would be a widow before we even started dating”, you two laughed again. “Well, thanks God you survived”, you replied and pulled him for a quick kiss.

Jaeyoon brought you even closer to his body, pulling one of his legs over his hip and sliding one of his hands under your nightgown as you only observed him with attentive eyes. “Love…”, he called out for you. “Hm, Jaengjji”. “Do you remember our first time? When you asked me to sleepover because you were afraid of the storm and we ended having sex?”, he met your eyes. “Yeah…”, you blushed slightly. “...I was very nervous and didn’t know what to do”, a small laugh left your mouth. 

“Are you still nervous with that?”, his eyes scanned your face searching for any kind of clue. “No”, you murmured. “Do you trust me?", he insisted. “Of course I do, baby! Why are you asking this?”, your hand reached for his cheek. “I wanna go further with you, Y/N”, he carefully replied. “What do you mean?””, now it’s your turn to scan his face. “Let’s do this without a condom”, he whispered, holding you tighter. Your eyes widened in surprised and you couldn’t speak. “I want to fuck you completely raw, want you to feel me fullest, want to complete your pulsant pussy with my cum", he growled on your ear, his hand traveling down your stomach and stopping in the little space between your legs. 

Your whole body shivered under his touches and at his words, and you can feel your core aching in a suddenly growing desire, your breath choking in your throat. “You want it?”, you breathlessly managed to say some seconds later. “I’ve wanted this since the beginning, but I was afraid you didn’t trust me enough to do this. But now I can’t handle the desire anymore”, his voice was now deep and hoarse in your ear and his hand started to rub your clothed folds. You gasped at the burning feeling and some low moans struggled to escape from your mouth. “Then do it”, you panted against his hot neck. 

Jaeyoon lay you on your back and immediately plucked your nightgown out your body and ripped your lacy panties, leaving you completely naked under him. He hurried to take off his clothes too and you finally paid attention to his full hard member that was hiding mere seconds ago. His skillful fingers touched you a little more to better lubrification and, once you were completely worked up, he penetrated your dripping core, filling you up in one go, both of your moans echoing through the room. 

Jaeyoon’s length made its work into your whole, pressing the right spots, while his thumb did the same with your throbbing clit, making your vision blurry and the knot in your lower stomach tighten. Your clenching walls were testing the gates of his own release, his member and legs starting to shake slightly against you. “Babe…”, he called out with a clenched jaw. “I’m on birth control. Cum inside me”, you struggled to say between your moans. 

The next thing you felt was his warm seed being poured into you on a powerful flush, filling all your pussy while your release broke as well. You breathed heavily as he stayed still inside you a little more, his soft lips kissing your forehead, his hands slowly massaging the curves of your breasts. “It was amazing, my love”, he smiled sweetly at you. “Jaeyoon...”, you whispered, “...since now… we don’t use condoms anymore”, you smiled back at him and he chuckled. “Okay…”, he murmured before taking your lips on his for a tender kiss. 

“Shower?”, you suggested and he nodded. “Maybe we can have another round there”, he winked at you and you roll your eyes, but of course you wouldn’t say no to him. Jaeyoon took you in his arms and dragged you to the bathroom where you had some more fun.

Dawon

It was late at night and you and your boyfriend were at the gym doing your regular routine of workouts. You noticed he was clingier than usual, his hands always somewhere in your body, but you tried to ignore it and continued to do your exercises. 

On the other hand, Dawon watched your sharp movements with a dark-hazed look, his eyes striping and devouring your body, the discomfort between his legs growing harder with every second. When you tilted your butt up to complete an exercise, he couldn’t bear this anymore - he grabbed your hips and dragged you out the gym to the nearest locker room. 

“Dawon, what are you doing?”, you squealed when he pressed you against the door, feeling his hard bulge against your inner thigh. “Yah, we’re on the company. We can’t do that here!”, you exclaimed as he attaching his mouth to your neck. “I can’t wait, Y/N. Take off your clothes now”, he murmured on your hot skin. “Lee Sanghyuk!”. “I must fill you up right now or I’ll freak out”, his teeth now finding the sweet spot behind your ear. 

“Sanghyuk… what if someone find us?”, you panted giving in his assaults on your body. “There’s no one else here at this hour. Don’t worry, the place is ours tonight”, Dawon assured you, no wasting more time to take off your shirt and top in one go. His strong hands violently squeezing your breasts while you rubbed your ass on his shaft, your back arching with such a pleasure, your arousal soaking your panties quickly. 

Dawon moved away a little to undress himself as you slid your shorts and wet panties down your trembling legs. Once you both were completely naked, he pulled you back into his body and penetrated you from behind mercilessly, causing you to scream out his name. “C'mon, babe. Scream my name. Let all the ghosts in this building know you’re fucking mine. Let them know how perfectly I fill you and how good you take my cum”, he growled slamming hard against your swollen pussy, reaching all the right spots inside you. 

You started to clench around him, making him moan as loud as you. “Bend down”, he commanded and you held on the wall to not lose your balance, your head almost crashing the concret with his powerful thrusts behind you. You were a moaning mess and your legs were shaking like crazy, his grip on your waist stronger to keep you steady for him as his member twitched desperately inside you.

The thirsty desire to pour his seeds into you pushed him over the edge and he came hard, coursing loud, and slowed down his thrusts, but moved his hands to your clit to help you chasing your high as well. With some violent circles on your bunch of nerves, your climax washed over you and you collapsed in his arms. 

Dawon slipped out of you and sat down on the floor, positioning you between his legs, your back resting on his broad chest. He cradled his face in the crook of your neck and kissed there tenderly, embracing you tightly as you waited to catch your breaths again. “Was I too rough?”, he asked sweetly hided on you neck. “No… I like when you are like this to me”, you weakly said and both of you laughed. 

“Can you walk?”, he whispered while kissing your shoulder. “I don’t think so”, you chuckled and turned your face to kiss him softly. “Let’s go, I’ll carry you”, he mumbled against your lips when you broke the kiss. You nodded and he carefully took you bridal style to the bathroom to clean you up. After that, you went home to cuddle till sleep.

Rowoon

Rowoon was so busy lately filming his new drama and missed you so much, that he couldn't wait to come back home and spend some quality time with you. He'd film a bed scene that afternoon and as soon as he saw the scenario, his mind was automatically redirected to the thought of your naked figure spread out in that bed.

He excused a little to try to calm down his hardening member, but his head seemed to be unable to take this dirty desire off him. Rowoon slipped his hand to his now full hard length and palmed himself in the bathroom, trying not to make much noise. However, the thought of your swollen pussy taking all his cum was making him lose control.

After some minutes, he left the bathroom sweaty, breathless and a little pale saying he was not feeling well, so he could go home and "take some rest". He was dismissed and hurried home, sending a message for you. I'm going home. Wait for me in our bed. Naked. When you read his message, you chuckled and immediately understood you'd be ruined that afternoon. But you were willing to tease him a little before he could touch you.

So you took a quick shower and put on his favorite lingerie. Then, you walked to the kitchen and strategically positioned yourself on the table. When he entered your shared apartment, there were you spread out for him on the corner of your table, the red lacy lingerie he loved molding into your curves. His look darkened at this view and he could feel his member getting hard again under his pants.

"Wow, jagi! That's not what I demanded, but I think fucking you in the kitchen is even hotter", he growled approaching you and settling himself in the middle of your parted legs, his mouth hungrily chasing yours. You moaned deliciously when he bit your bottom lip and his slender fingers found their way under your panties, abusing your clit mercilessly. "So wet", he murmured against your lips. "Only for you, babe", you whispered sensually while your mischievous hands unbuttoned his pants and put it down his legs, his brief going along.

Rowoon did the same with your bra and his shirt and ripped your thin panties angrily. He pushed you on the table, so now you were laying on it, and entered you in no time. "Seokwoo!!!", you screamed his name as he growled yours between clenched teeth. His thrusts were long, deep and fast inside you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head, while your nipples were pinched roughly by his large hands.

The stimulation was too much for you and you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten and your walls clenched around him. "Kwoo, I'm gonna cum", you scream between moans. "Not yet, babygirl. Not before me", he commanded, and tears started to gather in your eyes. "Please...", you beg him. "...I-I can't hold it any longer", your high-pitched cries fill the room. Rowoon's legs started to shake and you could tell he was close as well.

His moans now followed yours as his thrusts got sloppy. "I'm gonna fill you up, baby. Cum for me now", he grunted and released his seeds into you at the same time your waters washed over him, both your bodies spasming hard with post orgasm.

Rowoon collapsed on top of you and embraced your worn out body, trailing small kisses on your jawline and face. "Why did you come home early today?", you mumbled after recovering your breath, running your small hands through his soft hair. "I miss you, Y/N. So bad", he whispered and kissed you tenderly. "Awnt… I miss you too", you replied against his lips. "Also, sex is even better when we miss each other", you playful said and he chuckled. "Sex with you is always amazing, baby", he confessed and pecked your forehead as you smiled.

"C'mon, I'll run a warm bath for us", he took you in his arms and carried you to the bathroom, where you enjoy a relaxing bath cradled in each other's arms.

Zuho

As Zuho was spending a lot of time in his studio working on new songs, you decided to surprise him with a visit bringing along his favorite snacks and some beers. It was almost midnight when you arrived in the company and headed straight to the floor where his studio is, a muffled sound filling the hallway.

You knocked his door and opened it, only to see him with fixed eyes on the screen, headphones on and a low melody slipping through the speakers. You silently approached his chair and sneaked your arms around his broad shoulders, a little surprised "oh?" escaping his mouth.

"Hi, my love!", you happily exclaimed while he turned his chair to greet you. "What's my baby doing here?", he wondered with a tired sweet smile, pulling you to his lap. "I'm here to please my boyfriend with his favorite snacks and drink", you leaned in to kiss his soft lips. "Hhhhmmm… I'm very happy to see you here", Zuho mumbled against your lips and kissed you again.

You got off his lap to get some food and beers for the two of you. You ate and drank while talking about your day and the news songs he was preparing. "Actually, Y/N. I have something to show you", he said and pulled you to sit between his legs. Zuho handed you his phones and played a sexy melody on his computer. When the song stopped, you looked at him with a amazed expression. "That's so great, Ju! I loved it!", you excitedly told him. "Good, 'cuz I did it thinking about you", he held you closer and tighter.

"Really?", you were emotive. "Really", he kissed the back of your neck. "To work on this song, I thought about all our moments together, about our naked bodies dancing on the bed, about your moans, about you taking all of me", he whispered in your ear, his hands pulling your dress up and caressing your inner thighs. You let out a soft moan when you felt his bulge behind you and his mouth moving to attack the sweet spots in your neck.

"Baby...", he called you. A moan was all you could say. "... I want you so bad all day long…", he bit a good portion of your neck, leaving a purple bruise there as you moaned again. "... wanna hear you scream my name while I make you see stars…", now his hands pushing your panties to the side and rubbing your clit. "... wanna cum all inside you, filling you up to the brim with my white seed", his fingers teasing your dripping hole as your legs started to shake with pleasure.

"I-I want you…", you struggled to say. "As your service, ma'am", he sensually spoke before licking your cheeks. Zuho pulled his full-hard member out of his joggers and entered you slowly - he kept both of you dressed just in case someone appears in his studio - you bit your lips to try not to make much noise. "No, babygirl. I want you to scream. Let them know how good I fuck you in this chair", Zuho growled in your ear as his thrusts got stronger and faster. He abused your clit again and you couldn't hold your moans and cries anymore, legs shaking desperately between Zuho's.

He pulled you onto his lap and lifted your parted legs to rest them on his board, deepening the angle of his thrusts inside you, causing you both to moan louder each other's name and cursings. His hands continued their assault on your clit and you felt your climax coming. "Ju… I'm coming", you screamed at the top of your lungs. "Cum for me, baby", he screamed back and your orgasm hit you like a truck, Zuho following right along, painting your walls in white.

"Wow", you panted when you calmed down from your high with a naughty smile. "Wow… I needed this", Zuho replied back and you laughed. He turned you to face him and cradled your head in his hands. "Thank you, baby", he murmured with a large grin. You returned the smile and crossed your arms around his neck pulling him closer. "What about we go home now and cuddle in our bed?", you wondered. "That's all I need".

Yoo Taeyang

It was after midnight when you heard your apartment door open and your tired boyfriend come in. As soon as Taeyang saw you waiting for him on the couch, his lips immediately tugged up in a bright smile. “Baby! You’re finally home!”, you exclaimed calling him to join you as he took off his jacket and sweaty shirt. “How was your day?”, you asked sweetly as he lay with you on the couch, pulling you closer. “Exhausting…”, he mumbled against the soft skin of your neck, “... but it’s so much better now”, you smiled at his words and placed a slow kiss at his temple.

“Have you eaten?”, you wondered. “Yeah, but I’m still hungry”, Taeyang replied niping gently your shoulder as you chuckled. “Go shower while I prepare something for you to eat”, you said to him. “Nooo…”, he whined tightening his arms around you. “Do you want to eat first?”. “Nooo…”. “So, what do you want, Tae?”, you ran your hands through his hair. “I want you to shower with me”, he mumbled. “Okay, let’s go”, you laughed at his manners. At your words, he quickly got up and took you in his arms, dragging you to the bathroom.

Once there, both of you shed your remaining clothes and step into the shower cabin, where Taeyang pulled you into his body and kissed you hungrily, his hands roaming through your body desperately, making you gasp into his mouth. "So that's why you wanted me to join you, right?", you teased him when you broke the kiss and he only gave you a cocky smirk as response. "I've wanted you all day", he mumbled against your neck again, biting slightly. "Well, now you have me", you replied and he quickly lifted you by your hips, your legs didn't waste time to wrap around his waist.

Taeyang pressed your back against the cold wall while he roughly attacked your front, his member harder and your pussy wetter with every second. He knew exactly what spots made your weak without even touching you below your waist and he was skillful to tease them effortlessly. With a few more kisses, sucks and licks, and you were a moaning mess between him and the cold wall as the warm water from the shower turned everything even hotter and sexier.

"Take me, Tae. I'm ready", you managed to say breathing heavily, and he wasted no more time to positionate himself in your entrance and pushed inside you harshly, what made your squeals echoed through the bathroom. Taeyang took all of you right there, his thrusts were fast, deep, mercilessly, the wet sounds of two bodies slamming against each other filling the whole place, moans and cries loudly slipping from both of your mouths.

The feeling of you two together light this was so warm, intimate and full of passion as you felt your head get light and your vision blurred. You loved Taeyang more than anything and you couldn't imagine yourself without him anymore. Of course, the same was true for him: he loved everything about you - your eyes, your smile, your voice, the way your little hands fits his, the passion you two share for dance and, obviously, your body and the sensation of filling you up every time you have sex.

These thoughts passed through his mind as flashes and almost made him lose control over his release. "Baby, can I cum inside?", he asked some thrusts later, when he couldn't hold it anymore. "Please, cum", you moaned holding desperately against his shoulder. You had barely closed your mouth and his cum filled your pussy completely, the hot feeling making your orgasm hit you as well.

Your limbs lose all their strength and your worn out body collapsed on Taeyang's, one of his arms supporting the weight of you two on the wall as he was exhausted too. "Oh my God, Y/N! I love you so much!", he exclaimed when he was able to breath again. "I love you too, Tae! More than anything", you smiled and placed a sweet kiss on his cheek and then on his lips.

"Are you okay?", he whispered against your forehead. "Yes", you whispered back wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You both smiled and started to dance slowly under the hot water, glued bodies, touching foreheads. You finished showering this way and moved to your bed, where you had a lazy make out session.

Hwiyoung

You loved sunday afternoons, when you could just spend the whole day beside your cute boyfriend. That day, you both were listening to his songs on SoundCloud, sharing earphones, laying on your soft rug. When “Ex” stopped playing, you took his phones and looked at him. “Who broke your heart like that?”, you asked him with sad eyes. Hwiyoung gave you a sweet gummy smile and cupped your face. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Because I have you now and I know you’ll never wreck me”, he said softly, pecking your lips.

“Never”, you smiled and pulled him in for another kiss, and another and another, and everything changed to a make out sesh in the middle of your living room. His songs were now long forgotten, your phones and earphones tossed to the side, while his hot deep kisses were heating the two of you up. Hwiyoung’s body moved to the top of yours, pinning you between his arms as he legs tried to occupy their space in the between your legs. As he leaned in closer, you could feel his bulge against your thigh, a little gasp escaping your parted lips.

“Are you on pills, right?”, his deep voice inquired. “Yes”, you breathless replied. “Great, ‘cuz I’m cuming inside today”, his mouthed headed to hungrilly attack your neck, leaving a trail of dark bruises all over your skin. He managed to take off your clothes off without you to notice and when you realized, the two of you were completely naked and Hwiyoung was going down on you, his skillful tongue playing with your clit and teasing your entrance.

When he brought his face to yours again, his lips were glowing with your wetness and he left you taste yourself in his mouth as his hard member rubbed your folds. You arched your back in pleasure and he used this opportunity to entered you, thrusting slowly till fulfilling you. Once he was inside, girl, you were done. His thrusts were powerful and deep and his hands roamed all over your body - boobs, waist, hips and ass.

How much he loved fucking you like this, espontaneously and raw, making you feel all his veins and throbs, being able to filling you with his seeds. His fetishes made his pace increase and your bodies were slamming hard against each other, your pussy getting sore with such powerful strokes, your lungs begging for air and your throat testing its limits with your loud moans. You realized you wouldn’t last much longer and scream his name when he hit a particular sweet spot inside you.

“Hwiyoung, I’m close”, you warned him and he increased his pace even faster. “Me too, babe”, he moaned between clenched teeth. “Hwi… I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna…”, and your orgasm hit you like a bullet train as you screamed out loud, legs spasming desperately while Hwiyoung reached his high too, cumming all inside you.

He was supporting himself on his elbows to not crash you, your faces just inches away from each other, pantings fanning on your fronts. "I want to have you like this forever", he murmured very close to your lips when his breath has stabilized. "I'm yours forever, my love", you whispered and closed the distance between you with a soft kiss.

Hwiyoung pulled out of you and got up, helping you to stand on your feet too. Then, he took you bridal style and dragged you to bathroom to take a shower together, where you shared a few more touches and kisses. Both of you wished all your sunday afternoons were like that from now on.

Chani

You were still sleeping when you felt a little cold under your covers and snuggled closer to your boyfriend who was soundly sleepy spooning you. However, you pushed him in the wrong place (yeah, that place!) that made him immediately wake up creeped out with the suddenly stimulation. 

Chani loosened his grip around you and tried to move away to avoid more friction and not to wake you. But, even so, you felt the absence of his body against yours and chased his warmth over the bed. "Baby…", you whined still sleepy, "... where are you?". "I'm right here, just found a more comfortable position to sleep", he lied hoping you gave up snuggling him. He glanced at your body and the view of your curved back and beautiful ass made his member hardening even more as he held out a gasp.  

"Shut up and come here. I'm cold", you called him reaching out to catch him with your arm. You grabbed his hand and pulled him closer again, but his hips and legs didn't come along with his torso. "Chani!!!", you sulked and opened your eyes, now fully awake. "Leave me alone, Y/N?", he exclaimed back, trying to run away from you. "Why are you being like this?", you inquired and turned to him. "I have a hard on, okay?", he squealed half anger, half shy. 

"Oh!". “Oh? You are the only one to blame!”, he spoke with a lil pout. “Me?”, you were really confused. “Yeah, you were grinding against me in your sleep”. “Shit! Sorry, I just wanted to snuggle closer to you ‘cuz I was cold”, you were now getting closer to him again. “But you know…”, your slender fingers running over his clothed chest, “I can take care of this problem”, you locked your eyes with his as your hand moved to the hem of his boxers, watching a devilish smirk appearing on his face. “Of course you can. Turn around. Now”, he said with a dark tone.

You complied and turned, feeling his scaldant body spooning yours once again, but this time not in a innocent way. Chani positioned one of his legs between yours and his hands slowly contorned the curves of your hips and waist, lifting up your nightgown on the way, till slide them to your core. His ministrations were gently at the beginning, causing you to let out soft moans; but when your hips unconsciously started to grind on him again, Chani pushed your panties to the side and attacked your clit, making you moan loud this time. 

When you were completely wet and ready for him, Chani undressed the two of you and slipped his hard length in your hole, completing you perfectly. He pulled your leg over his hips as he ruthlessly thrusted you, immediately finding your g-spot while one of his hands took care of your clit, the other massaging your hard nipples and his mouth kissed and nibbled your sensitive neck. 

The overstimulation was too much for you and you already could feel your orgasm forming in your our stomach. Chani was approaching his high as well, his member twitching inside you as he moaned low in the crook of your neck, his hands desperately holding your belly. With some more thrusts and no warning, he released his strong jets into your abused pussy, you following right along with powerful spasms taking control over your body. 

Chani continued inside you till he was sure you were taking all of his cum, both of you quiet, breathless and sweaty. When he finally slipped out of you, he turned you to face him and kissed you passionately, tightened his arms around your waist as you ran your hands through his hair. “I think your problem is solved now, hm?”, you asked when you parted for air. “Yeah, I think so”, he replied and you both burst out laughing. 

He moved one of his hands to cup your cheek. “Thank you for this”, he whispered staring deeply at you. You just smiled at him - sweetly, fondly, lovely. “Y/N”, he murmured very close to your lips, foreheads touching. “Hm?”. “You’re the best thing that ever happened in my life”, his eyes now closed and your breaths shared. “And you’re mine, Chani-ya”, you whispered back and kissed him again. And you cuddled together till fell asleep again.

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

[littledrummeraussie]

morning glory.

Word count: 5200+ Warnings: masturbation, a beast (literal or figurative, you decide) ready to fuck, a switch between soft dom!Ash and dom!Ash, definitely D/s dynamics, slightest bit of somnophilia, too many nicknames, fingering, some spanking, begging, orgasm control, overstimulation, creampie and cum play, with a big load of fluff in the end. Author’s note: I’ve been in a morning sex mood this week and I’ve ruined myself (and my friend) in the process. I’m sorry.

Stay safe, stay healthy. You are loved. You matter. I love you. 🖤

masterlist.

There was a moment when Ashton was still floating somewhere between dream and reality, not entirely sure if he will fall back to sleep or slowly wake up. It was a luxury that didn’t occur too often with work and touring happening all around the year, but they just started their week off, and it meant that he could squeeze in a few more minutes of sleepy lounging in his bed – no need to rush and start the day. He let the sun peeking through the windows warm his skin as he pushed his face back against his pillow, letting out a small contented sigh as he nuzzled against the fabric that smelled like home.

He moved under his blankets, finding a position he liked to snuggle back for another quick nap, not wanting to get up just yet. Mornings usually meant quick showers and dressing up for the road, getting breakfast at coffee shops or waiting until brunch happened, and being with his mates with very little privacy for his needs. Needs that always made themselves present in the early hours of the morning, pressing against his shorts, waiting to be taken care of.

Ashton tried to ignore the ache deep in his lower belly, the beast wanting to be satisfied more and more as days passed by. Sometimes he let himself have a few minutes as he palmed himself through his boxers, trying to appease his body’s demands for pleasure and release. But now he had all the time in the world as he shifted onto his back, face still pushed against the soft pillow under his head, hand resting on his stomach before he slowly slid it lower. A hum left his lips as he closed his fingers around his cock, giving it a light squeeze through his boxers, feeling himself twitching and hardening. He liked taking his time, building up his orgasm and edging himself until he couldn’t hold it back anymore, spilling cum over his hand and stomach as pleasure coursed through his body. He only wished he wasn’t alone to enjoy his day off, setting the beast free to take what it needed to be satisfied.

His senses slowly picked up a quiet shuffling, the lightest of snores paired with the occasional hum coming from his left, a sweet scent tickling his nose as he turned his head, opening his eyes to see the sleeping form of his girlfriend next to him. It’s been too long since he’d shared his bed with someone, gotten used to sleeping on a tour bus in a single bunk – he almost forgot that he was finally home, back to sweet laughter and blanket hogging, back to kisses shared over coffee and a soft body curled into his embrace that he missed so much; back to his lover who waited up for him as he kicked the front door shut last night, ready to fall asleep on the closest surface he could find. She made sure he was tucked into bed before he could lose his footing, his lips mumbling words of love as she kissed his forehead, promising him a proper welcome in the morning before he passed out.

He remembered how she undressed him between silent giggles and light teasing, petting his hair as he leaned forward to hug her close to him, prepared to use her body as his pillow during the night. She was all warm skin and gentle touches, guiding him under the covers to catch up on his much needed sleep, her hand laced together with his as he fell asleep. Now she was sleeping next to him, her back to Ashton as she curled around her pillow, wrapped in one of his shirts, hiding the soft body he’s been craving for so long.

Ashton followed the lines of her body with his eyes, noting how the shirt twisted around her chest and rode up on her hips, how the soft grey panties hugged her ass cheeks, how her legs wrapped around the blankets, leaving most of her body uncovered. He felt his cock harden more and more just by looking at her, straining against his boxers as he imagined all the things they could do now that they were back home together. He stroked his hard length through the fabric as he recalled all those times when he needed to go to bed alone, missing and craving the beautiful woman who was now only a breath away.

The girl shifted in her sleep, turning more onto her stomach as she slumbered, and Ashton felt his lust spreading through his veins, starting from his groin, making his toes curl and his fingers twitch as he caught sight of soft lips peeking out from her panties. It was like her body unconsciously offered itself up for sex while she was sleeping, and he couldn’t help the moan that escaped him, the need to take the girl again stronger than anything else in that moment.

He moved closer, snuggling his body against her back as he brushed the hair away from her face, pressing his lips against her cheek, inhaling the sweet scent that made him dizzy. Ashton wanted to eat her up, to consume her in a way that in the end they became one. It’s been too long and he’s been suppressing his needs for weeks now, making the beast starved and impatient for the feast laid out in front of him. His hand rested on her waist, fingers lightly running under her shirt to feel her warm skin, teasing along the top of her panties as he pressed another kiss behind her ear. He wanted her now. He wanted to wait it out, to build it up. The beast was clawing inside him, wanting more touch, more taste, more pleasure – it was insatiable.

Ashton swallowed around a moan as he pressed his hips against her ass, lightly grinding against the soft flesh. The friction on his cock made him shiver – he missed the feeling of his lover’s body, how it gave him so much pleasure with only the smallest of touches. It was much better than his own hands wrapped around himself or pushing against bunched up sheets, wishing it was someone real. This was real. She was real. And he planned on making up for all those times when he missed her from his bed.

With his face buried in her neck he let his hand wander lower, sliding over her ass and between her thighs, pressing his palm against her panties. His fingers lightly teased her pussy, rubbing against the soft lips still peeking out from under the fabric. She was warm against his skin, and as he continued with the touches, he soon felt her hips slightly move against his hand. Then he felt it, a small wet patch soaking the grey panties against his fingers, and he hummed with satisfaction, applying more pressure on it, searching for the sensitive nub as he played with her. She let out a small sound as he stroked along her clit, rubbing slow circles on it while she pressed back against him. He missed this, he missed making the girl come undone with only the smallest of touches, missed how her body reacted when he loved her.

He lightly sucked on her earlobe as he pushed his fingers under the soaked fabric, stroking through her wet folds. She felt soft and silky, her skin heated from his touch; so easy to play with, so easy to pleasure. Ashton loved how her juices dripped down his fingers when he had them deep inside her, rubbing against her sweet spot as she begged for release. Sometimes he let her come after the first tentative plea; sometimes he made her work for it; and sometimes he pulled out at the last second, leaving her on the edge of her orgasm, frustrated and beautiful in her agony.

The wetness on his fingers made his cock twitch against her ass, wanting to be buried inside the pussy that’s been teasing him since he woke up. He lightly circled her entrance with his fingertip, pressing against the tight hole, probing and playing. Ashton bit his lip as the girl moved against his finger in her sleep, trying to make him push it inside her pussy. He knew she was getting needy for his touch, for his fingers to slip in and stroke along her walls, for his palm to rub against her sensitive clit, for his cock to stretch her and fill her up. She was desperate for his lover to take her again, to make her feel the pleasure only he could give her.

The beast growled inside him, ready to be set free and take what it craved for so long. It was not satisfied with soft touches and kisses – it was ravenous. The need to feel the girl tremble and shake against his body, to feel her squeeze around his cock and moan his name as she came was taking over all of his senses. The beast and he was finally becoming one. It wanted to fuck. And Ashton was happy to give the beast what it wanted.

 *

 Your senses picked up lips or maybe fingers, brushing through your hair, stroking along your ear, hot puffs of air tickling your skin as you burrowed against the warm body behind you. You were still fast asleep, but somewhere deep inside you knew it was Ashton pushing against your back and wrapping his arms around you. He was back home after long weeks spent on the road, and he seemed awake, ready for the proper welcome you have promised him. Or maybe he only snuggled closer to take another nap, still tired from traveling across the States. Either way, you weren’t complaining – it just meant that finally you had some real quality time that you could spend together. If it meant taking naps in each other’s arms, then so be it.

His fingers were dancing on your waist, drawing patterns on the skin of your stomach as he pushed closer, pressing against your ass with a certain need that he couldn’t deny, not even if he tried to. You felt yourself get lost in his touch, his fingertips stroking along your thigh, tickling and teasing. It’s been too long since you’ve felt this kind of pleasure, the type that came from being with someone else. Nothing was as satisfying as having your lover take you the way you needed it – sometimes soft and slow, other times fast and rough.

Maybe you only dreamed it, the light pressure between your thighs, a soft moan in your ear as your hips pushed back against his body. Surely you were making this all up, your mind and body craving a proper fuck after weeks of keeping your hands to yourself. You were still sleeping, and your desires were playing tricks on you, bringing up old memories of Ashton playing with you, his long fingers teasing along your wet lips, lightly stroking your clit, making you rub against his hard cock that rested on your ass. A fingertip brushed against your entrance, and more than anything you wanted to slip it inside your pussy, the need to feel something making you shiver, making you moan as it pressed a little more against you.

There was a light chuckle against your ear, low and purring, lips closing around your earlobe to give it a small nip and a lick. You felt yourself grabbing onto the sheets as another moan left your mouth when the first knuckle slipped inside you, gently probing your hole.

”Good morning, gorgeous,” Ashton’s voice was a raw whisper, his hot breath and full lips on your neck sending another shiver down your spine. ”God, I fucking missed you.”

”Ash…” still lost in your sleepy haze and the pleasure slowly building in your sex you turned your head back, brushing your lips against his. ”Hmm, missed you.”

”Yeah, I can feel that baby,” he sucked on your bottom lip, giving it a quick bite that made you gasp. ”You’ve already soaked through your panties, you naughty girl.”

He pushed another knuckle inside, lightly stroking it in an out of you as he angled your head towards his with his free hand, pushing his tongue in your mouth while he kissed you. He grabbed your chin and pushed his forehead against yours, eyes dark with lust as you panted, blinking rapidly until you felt another finger slip inside.

”Wanna see you take them,” Ashton purred, long fingers stroking along your walls as you clenched around them, eyes rolling back. ”Wanna see your beautiful face as I finger and stretch your tight little pussy. I’ve been craving her for weeks. Want to fuck her nice and deep.”

”Fuck, Ash, please,” you chocked on your next words as he rubbed against your g-spot, and you were sure you just soaked his fingers even more. ”Please baby.”

”You feel so good around my fingers, angel,” Ashton said while he thumbed your clit, his words a mix between sweet and filthy. ”So snug and warm. You’ve been teasing me with this little pussy since I woke up and I just want to be buried inside of you. You’ve looked so soft and sleepy, and yet so slutty, panties barely covering your little hole. You wanted to be fucked, didn’t you?”

”Ugh, yes. Want your cock so much,” you swallowed around another moan as a third finger teased against your entrance, ready to join the other two inside you, and you pushed down on it, ready for him stretching you more. ”Fuck me?”

”Impatient, aren’t we?” he chuckled again, fingers sliding out slowly just to push back deep inside, his lips kissing your ear to whisper his hot words against your skin. ”You made me so goddamn hard. Can’t wait to feel that wet pussy around my cock. You want that too, baby? Wanna get filled up?”

”Please Ash, just fuck me!” your pleas rolled off your tongue with a slight begging in your voice, and he captured your lips in another passionate kiss, finishing with a small peck on your nose.

”On your stomach, gorgeous,” he didn’t wait for you, but caught you around the waist and pushed you down on the bed, kneeling behind you.

You buried your face against the pillow, still half-convinced that this was only a really nice wet dream, but then you felt Ashton’s lips leaving small kisses on your waist just above your ass, fingers curling into the sides of your panties and tugging them off, the cool air of the room against your wet pussy making you shiver. Ash groaned as you slightly wigged your hips, both giving him a little show as you spread your legs and needing something to lessen the ache in your core, your hole clenching as you waited to feel him inside of you again.

Ash pressed his clothed erection against your ass, his hard length pushed between your cheeks as he pulled your hips up, letting you rub your pussy against his cock through his boxers. There was a wet patch where the precum soaked the fabric of his shorts, and you wished you could put your mouth around it, missing his taste on your tongue. A quick slap on your ass made you whine, the sting slightly soothed as Ashton rubbed his palm over the heated skin.

”Thinking dirty thoughts?” he asked with amusement, giving a smack to the other cheek. ”You’re practically fucking yourself on my cock, and I’m still in my boxers. Desperate to be fucked, huh? Needy girl.”

He finished with another spank against your tender flesh, pressing a kiss on it as he stood up, kicking off his boxers to free his hard cock, giving it a few pumps as he kneeled back behind you. He pushed it between your thighs, rubbing it against your wet lips to coat it in your juices, and you couldn’t help moving your hips in sync, wanting to finally feel him inside. Ashton groaned as he pulled your hips back, rubbing the head of his cock up and down, giving a few light taps to your clit that made you quietly beg for more. A satisfied little laugh left his lips as he pushed forward, turning into a low growl as your lips spread around the tip, your pussy stretching around his thick length.

”Fuck, Ash, yes. Please more,” you clawed against the sheets as he pushed in the first few inches, only to pull them out, leaving only the tip inside. ”More… I want it all…”

”Hmm, fuck babe,” he hummed, hands grabbing onto your hips, pushing a little more inside. ”Such a good girl for me. Nice and tight, not touching herself while I’m away. You kept those naughty hands to yourself, right baby?”

”Yes,” you whined, rubbing your face against the pillow as Ashton let you adjust around his size, slowly pushing in another inch, adding to the stretch. ”I promised you.”

Ash groaned, fingers pushing into your flesh as he stilled his hips, cock twitching inside you. The words were like the sweetest caress to the beast roaring inside him, and you were more than happy for it to come out and play, claiming you again as his own. He rubbed his palms against your ass, thumbs lightly stroking along your pussy lips stretched around his cock, slightly spreading them to push in the last few inches. He bottomed out with another groan, enjoying your walls squeezing around him as you whined between breathy sighs, every inch of his cock filling you up perfectly. Ashton slowly pulled out again, leaving you clenching around nothing for a moment, then pushed back in, lazily pumping his cock in and out, giving you shallow thrusts that made your toes curl, but only fuelled your needs for him to fuck you properly.

”Ash… Ash, fuck! More!”

”More of what, baby?” he pushed his hard cock deep inside you, resting his hips against your ass. ”You have to ask for it, sweetness.”

”Please…” you wiggled your ass to make him move, but his only answer was another slap against your ass cheek, and you clenched around him in response.

”Use your words, gorgeous. Be my good girl and tell me what you need. Please what?”

”Please fuck my pussy,” you felt your cheeks burning as you buried your face against the pillow, voice only a high whine. ”Please, Ash.”

”You always beg so prettily,” he pulled out again, slamming back quickly as he started moving in and out, balls slapping against you with every thrust. ”I have so much cum for you, baby.”

He set a pace that quickly made you see stars, the tip of his cock nudging against your sweet spot with every stroke. You were holding onto your pillow for dear life, ready to fall over the edge at any second with his deep thrusts, the way he filled you up with his thick length enough to make you tremble and shake. Ashton leaned over you, his chest pushing against your back as he kissed the shell of your ear, giving it a light nip as he fucked you from behind, fingers sliding between your legs, lightly circling your sensitive clit. He chuckled while still kissing your ear, feeling your pussy grip around his cock at his soft touches.

”Do you want to cum, baby?”

”Hmm, please, can I cum?” his hot breath tickled your skin, lips pulling into a smile.

”You can cum on three. Ready?” you nodded with a quiet yes, and Ashton started whispering against your ear. ”One… two… th…”

Before you knew it Ashton pulled out of you, quickly flipping you on your back, hands grabbing onto your knees to keep your legs spread. You felt yourself clenching around thin air, body shaking, stomach and breasts heaving as you were trying to catch your breath, dizzy from your boyfriend’s actions. You felt a sob leave your lips as you buried your face in your hands, tugging on your own hair as every inch of your body begged for the orgasm that was taken away from you.

Ashton clicked his tongue, rubbing his thumb over your hole as it quivered, giving it a slight friction, a reminder of what could have been yours. He leaned over you again, grabbing your wrists to bring them above your head. Ash laced your fingers together, kissing the corner of your eye before pushing your lips together. He tasted salty after kissing away your tears, nuzzling his nose against yours to make you look at him. You bit your lip as you saw dark pupils swimming with lust, and you knew you were lost.

”Such a pretty mess,” he whispered, brushing his lips on yours before he leaned closer to your ear, voice rough and low. ”I’m gonna ruin you.”

With that he pulled back, kneeling between your thighs as he teased his cock between your folds, nudging the tip against your clit, just like he would do with his thumb. Your pussy clenched, silently begging him to finally take pity on her whenever he pushed against your entrance, only to go back to rubbing his cock between your lips. You pulled your pillow over your face as Ashton grabbed your thighs and dragged them around his waist, finally done with his game and ready to go back to fucking you. You only had a moment to hide your whines against the soft fabric because suddenly Ash snatched the pillow from your hands, throwing it across the room with a thump.

”No more hiding, babygirl,” he brushed his fingers through your hair, thumb pressing against your bottom lip. ”Wanna see your pleasure.”

He pushed his thumb in your mouth to suck on it, and with that he thrusted his cock back into your pussy, no more teasing, but quickly working up the pace he liked when he fucked you. He trailed his thumb down your chin, grabbing the front of his shirt on you, twisting it around in his fist as he pulled you back on his cock, hitting deep inside. You threw your head back with a series of moans, one hand cupping your breast over the fabric of his shirt, pinching your nipple, the other pushing against the headboard to fuck yourself back on his cock. Ashton groaned as you worked your hips against him, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.

”Show me your tits, angel,” he pushed his shirt up on your chest, giving a hard pinch to your nipples that made you squeeze around his length. ”Wanna see them bounce while I fuck you. Wanna see all of you when you finally cum on my cock. All that beauty in front of me.”

He was making a mess out of you, just like he’d promised – you were tugging on your hair and hiding behind your hands as he fucked his cock against your g-spot, thighs tightening around his waist as you played with your nipples, building up the pleasure he took away from you earlier. Ashton grabbed one of your hands, wrapping his lips around your fingers as he sucked on them, eyes never leaving you as he licked around your knuckles. It was a heady feeling, knowing what he was going to say, but it still sent a shiver down your spine when he pulled your fingers out of his mouth with a pop.

”Come on baby, play with that little pussy,” he circled your wrist and pushed it between your legs. ”Show me how you cum on my cock.”

With a whimper you started brushing against your clit, fingertips lightly pushing against it until you needed more, and you switched to quick circles around the hard nub, chasing your orgasm as Ash fucked you. He groaned, eyes glued to your hand between your legs, watching as you lost yourself in your own lust. He shifted his hips, knowing the slight switch in his angle will drag along your sweet spot with every push and pull of his cock. The pleasure was building in your belly, your hips bucking against Ashton’s as he gave another hard thrust.

”Please, can I– fuck, please let me cum, Ash! Fuck, I’m begging you,” you were breathless as you clawed at the sheets, tears ready to slide down your face if he denied you again. ”I wanna cum on your cock!”

”Hmm, fuck, do it pretty girl,” he growled, one of his hands reaching for yours to tangle your fingers together. ”Cum, sweetheart, cum.”

That was all it took for you to fall over the edge – your body tensed for a moment as pleasure coursed through you, limbs shaking and muscles trembling, voice hoarse from all the begging. Ashton’s thumb stroked against your skin as he fucked you through your orgasm, your pussy clenching and squeezing around his cock, pulling him deeper, not ready to let him go.

”Ashton– Ash, fuck!” you moaned as he slowed down to lazy thrusts, his name on your lips like a prayer. ”Fuck.”

”Hmm, promised I will ruin you, pretty girl,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss against your knee before pushing his hand between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. ”Sensitive, baby?”

”Stooop,” you whined as you clenched around his cock, pussy soaking him as he played with you.

”But you’re so beautiful like this,” he stroked your clit lightly. ”That agony on your face as you fight your pleasure. I could easily make you cum again.”

You mumbled something as you pulled his shirt over your face, and Ashton chuckled again, grabbing the fabric and tugging it over your head to throw it next to the pillow. His eyes were still dark with his desire, lips pulling into an almost wolfish smile – the beast was ready to get its own pleasure now, long weeks of waiting finally building up to this moment. He was ready to claim you again.

”You wanna get filled up with cum, angel?” he started moving his hips again, voice rough as you felt his cock twitch, his abs tensing as he fucked into you. ”Want me to fill that pretty pussy with my cum?”

”Please,” you whimpered, still sensitive from your orgasm and his thumb on your clit.

”What? Couldn’t hear you,” Ash groaned, leaning over to kiss you, teeth pulling on your lips as he pushed his forehead against yours. ”Ask me. Again.”

”Please fill me up with your cum,” you pushed your fingers into his hair, tugging him closer for another kiss.

Ashton moaned into your mouth as his hips slapped against you, body slightly trembling as he grabbed your ass, pulling you back on his length. He buried his face in your neck with a groan as he finally reached his orgasm, his cock twitching and pulsing as he pushed deeper, pumping his cum deep inside you. The beast was finally satisfied as Ashton rested his weight on your body, panting against your neck, the hot puffs of air tickling your sweaty skin. You let your fingers slide down his neck, lightly teasing the short hairs and the tattoo inked into his skin, rubbing against the top of his shoulders as he pushed himself up, kissing you sweetly as he kneeled back up, slowly pulling out his cock.

”Fuck, look at you. All that cum dripping out of your pussy,” Ash growled as he looked you up and down, his fingers spreading your lips as his cum slowly slid out of you. ”So fucking full baby.”

You could see a flash in his eyes as he pressed his cock against your pussy lips, gathering his cum and pushing it back inside with the tip, sinking his length into you.

”You think you could come again?” he leaned over you, resting on his elbows, lazily thrusting in and out as you shook your head.

”Nooo,” you whined with a small laugh, burying your face against the tattooed arm resting next to you.

”You sure about that?” he chuckled, lips pressing against the top of your head, leaving small kisses here and there.

Ashton sighed against your hair as his hips slowed down, resting his cheek there as he pulled out for the last time. His massive frame lingered above you for a few seconds, not sure if he wanted to collapse on you or find a comfortable place against your side. He hummed as he finally lay down beside you, arms already reaching and wrapping around your body, pulling you tightly to his chest. His skin was warm and he smelled like sex, and you hid your face against his neck, feeling how his throat worked around the words spilling out of him.

”I love you so much. And I missed you. Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?” he kissed your temple, fingers cradling through your hair as he mumbled against your skin.

”I have a pretty good idea, you beast,” you pressed a kiss against his collarbone, hand caressing his chest and stomach, rubbing up and down his side. ”I’ve missed you too, love. It’s good to finally have you back home.”

Ash shifted his body so he could be face-to-face with you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, lightly pecking his lips as he nuzzled closer with a smile, his fingers drawing soft patterns on your back and waist as he embraced you. The beast was curling up like a kitten, settling down inside him, purring as it was coddled and cuddled. It was soothed with touches and kisses, loving whispers and sweet words.

A light blush coloured Ashton’s cheeks as you rested your foreheads together, staring into each other’s eyes. He was a soft, sleepy boy with messy hair and kiss-swollen lips, his eyelashes tickling your face as you got lost in your little world, lazily making out. He hummed happily, smiling into your kiss before pulling back for air.

”I love you, Ash,” you whispered, running your thumb over his eyebrow, fingers caressing his cheek. ”Welcome home.”

”Thank you, love,” he nudged his nose against yours, eyes almost golden in the sun shining through the windows. ”Can we kiss some more before I decide if I want to have another nap, a shower, or breakfast?”

”Shower, breakfast and then a nap,” you chuckled, caressing his stomach as it growled at the mention of food. ”Come on, you can get your kisses in the shower.”

”I missed mornings with you, beautiful,” he smiled at you lovingly, fingers tangled in your hair. ”Home really is where the heart is.”

”Stop being sappy,” you laughed, pressing your lips against his cheek, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back to his chest.

”Never,” he kissed into your neck, teeth working against your skin, ready to leave a mark there. ”I love calling you mine. My heart. My home. Mine.”

”Yours,” you sighed happily into his ear, ready for a week full of loving each other from the early hours of the morning to late at night. And maybe some more.

[asweetprologue]

Words: 2618, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Witcher

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Fluff, geralt has a fixation on jaskier's hands, Pining, Confessions, it's about the hands tm

Inspired directly by this post by @valdomarx​

“I didn’t even ask you to come this time, witcher. I don’t know why you’re acting so dour,” Jaskier pouted. He was standing in front of a small mirror that he’d propped up against the table, the only thing with a reflection in the small inn. His shirt was untucked over his tight pants, which were a startling peacock blue this time around. It was a fetching color, nearly matching the bard’s eyes, though Geralt would never voice such a thought aloud. He was fiddling with the ties at the front of the cream shirt, trying to decide on a complicated pattern of lacing that was well beyond Geralt’s understanding. The smell of wisteria and honeysuckle filled the room, overwhelming in its recent application. Jaskier rarely used scents beyond soaps while they were traveling, and Geralt preferred when he could more easily smell the distinct musk of the bard himself, rather than cloying perfumes. 

He grunted in response to Jaskier’s comment, leaning against the bedpost. The inn was nice, actually, even though it was small. The sheets smelled fresh, the mattress was free of holes, and there was even a full bath off of the main room. Jaskier had sunk more funds into their accommodations than usual, expecting a big payout from the ball he’d been hired to perform at for the next several nights. “I’m not being ‘dour’,” Geralt said, watching Jaskier tug his shirt closed. His fingers played over the laces, easily working them into a tight series of delicate knots. Geralt wasn’t lying, truthfully. He wasn’t so much dour as… distracted. His eyes followed Jaskier’s hands as they tucked in his shirt, revealing his slim hips. The bard tugged here and there on the fabric, his fingers fluttering about as he searched for just the right amount of artful dishevelment. 

Geralt noticed Jaskier’s hands. 

He wasn’t sure if this was a universal experience or not. Over the past few months, he’d overcome the initial shock of realizing he was interested in the bard. He’d known Jaskier for years - closer to decades - and it certainly was a notion that took some adjusting to. One day Geralt had just looked up and realized that the gangly limbed youth he’d met in Posada had turned into an extremely attractive man, a man Geralt very much wanted to put his hands on. The thought had been startling, and he’d spent full weeks telling himself that it was a fluke. And yet he was captivated by Jaskier’s broad shoulders, his strong thighs, his infuriatingly dexterous fingers. It was embarrassing really. 

But, he reasoned, he was in good company; literally half the Continent wanted to fuck Jaskier. Geralt was particularly unique in that regard. It was honestly more spectacular that he was a person who wanted to sleep with Jaskier who hadn’t. It was a bitter draught to swallow, but Geralt accepted it. Few people wanted a witcher in their bed for more than an hour, and he knew that it could never be a simple one time roll in the hay between himself and Jaskier. Geralt was already spending much of his time reminding himself that he was not and could not be infatuated with Jaskier, the famous bard, womanizer and, above all, his best friend. He was at least self aware enough to know that Jaskier’s rejection would be painful, and that losing him as a companion was unacceptable. 

Still, this left him with a predicament. While he assumed Jaskier had caught on to his developing feelings quickly enough, Geralt didn’t want to make the bard uncomfortable with his attentions. He tried not to let anything change between them. He didn’t reach out to pull Jaskier closer when they shared a bed at night, he didn’t give him the best cuts of meat during meals, he didn’t buy small, intricate rings or beautiful leather bound journals for him when they went to the market. He would think about it and then turn away, and keep things how they’d always been. Jaskier was bright and loud and annoying, and Geralt was quiet and snappish. If the bard had wanted anything more, he would have made it clear long before now. Geralt was doing a pretty good job of keeping things platonic, he thought. He probably would have been totally successful if Jaskier hadn’t chosen a lute, of all the cursed instruments, as his primary tool of the trade. 

The issue was that Geralt had something of a preoccupation with Jaskier’s hands, which may be a common experience but might be unique to Geralt himself, much to his dismay. They were just exceedingly nice to look at. They had long and elegant fingers with wide, reassuring palms that had spent hours cleaning, patching up and comforting the witcher. They were unscared except for a thin white line under his right ring finger, where Jaskier said he’d been punctured by a nail as a child. Though that wasn’t to say that they were totally unblemished. Years of playing had worn deep calluses onto the tips of his fingers, rougher skin that made Geralt shiver when they played over his scalp as they so often did. 

They were nice hands, but it wasn’t just that. They were expressive, an extension of whatever Jaskier felt at the moment. Geralt never knew what to do with his hands if he wasn’t in a fight, but Jaskier’s moved constantly. When he was angry they curled into fists and pointed fingers, elbows tights against his body as he raged at some perceived slight. When he was happy or excited, they darted about him in wide, sweeping gestures, an unspoken language that Geralt thought he might be able to read now without words. When he was tired they dragged, lingering on Geralt’s shoulders or pulling at the seams of his armor as he bullied the witcher into bed. Those moments were almost the worst, picking away at Geralt’s already frayed control, but he found it got to him the most when Jaskier was playing. 

To say that Jaskier transformed when he played was not quite accurate. It was closer to say that he became. Jaskier was always intense, bright and focused and vibrant, but when he picked up his lute and stepped onto a stage he was resplendent. When Geralt had first met him, he’d thought maybe Jaskier was a siren, or some kind of incubus, luring men in with his honeyed words and saccharine melodies. He’d quickly realized that no, Jaskier was as human as they came, but it didn’t stop others from acting like they’d been bewitched when he was around. Jaskier performing was Jaskier at both his least and most genuine, distilled into whatever the crowd needed him to be most at that moment. It was enthralling, to say the least, and Geralt wasn’t immune to the draw. 

At first watching the lute had been a defense mechanism, of a sort. Watching Jaskier himself was almost too intense, and Geralt felt exposed anytime their eyes met across a crowded room. So he’d taken to watching Jaskier’s hands, flying across the strings of the lute and dancing up the neck. Initially it had been only intriguing, and he’d found himself impressed by the bard’s skill. He was faster and more precise than any other player Geralt had come across, while remaining gentle in his ministrations. Jaskier touched the strings of his lute with such tenderness, as if he were caressing a lover.

One night while watching the bard, Geralt had though, Sometimes he touches me like that. And after that he was well and truly lost. 

“I’m just saying,” Jaskier said, bringing Geralt sharply back to the present, “while I would never begrudge your presence, I don’t think the response to Toss a Coin will be as enthusiastic if the titular witcher is off glowering in a corner.” He reached for his doublet, a green jacket picked out with yellow thread that looked like gold in the right light. It was beside Geralt on the bed, and he nearly flinched away from Jaskier’s grasping hands. He thanked every god above that he no longer had the ability to blush the same way a human did, knowing that he would be pink in the face after watching Jaskier lace up his shirt sleeves. The man was actively putting clothes on and Geralt was nearly sweating from it. 

“I’m not going to glower in a corner,” he grumbled. 

Jaskier gave him a look that displayed an insulting lack of faith in Geralt’s word. “Well,” he said, “at least you’re dressed appropriately.” He’d managed to wrestle Geralt into a black jacket and a pair of dress trousers, though Geralt had won the fight to keep his boots and his swords. It was better, Jaskier allowed, that the people be able to see the tools of the trade. The bard reached out to adjust the collar of Geralt’s shirt. The witcher forced himself to still as Jaskier’s knuckles grazed his Adam’s apple. His skin hummed where they’d made contact. 

Jaskier gave him a pat on the shoulder and turned away. “Well, we’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” he said, giving himself one last glance in the tiny mirror. With a grin, he turned to Geralt and said, “If you’re very good I’ll buy you one of those tarts from the market for breakfast tomorrow.”

The words if you’re good rolled over Geralt in a disconcerting way, curling up at the base of his spine and settling like they intended to live there. Shit. He made a slightly strangled sound of agreement that he hoped just sounded annoyed. 

As Jaskier reached for the door, Geralt noticed that the ties of Jaskier’s undershirt had gotten twisted around one of the buttons of his doublet. He must have accidentally pushed the clasp through a loop in the laces while he was doing them up. Geralt wouldn’t have noticed unless he was watching Jaskier’s hands, but it seemed like he was always watching Jaskier’s hands nowadays. Watching, anticipating, hoping for the next touch. Geralt reached out and snagged the bard’s wrist before he even really knew what he was doing.

“Um,” Jaskier said, eloquent as ever. Geralt turned his hand over - in for a penny, in for a crown - and started undoing the buttons on the doublet. Jaskier hummed in realization, seeing where the laces had twisted into a knot. Focusing on his task, Geralt bent his head slightly, pulling the thin string loose from its tangle. As he did so, pale, unmarked skin was revealed through the parted fabric, a spider web of delicate blue lines branching out before Jaskier’s warm palm. Geralt’s thumb brushed briefly over the veins, Jaskier’s skin as smooth and soft as fresh rose petals under his rough fingers. He was seized suddenly by an overpowering urge to put his mouth there, to breathe in the scent and find Jaskier hidden under all the oils and the smell of crisp linen. Without thinking too much of it, Geralt bent down and pressed his lips to Jaskier’s wrist, just below the swell of his thumb.

Jaskier gasped. 

It was like taking a mouthful of Thunderbolt - the world coming sharply into focus, his mind keenly aware of his surroundings. Geralt nearly jumped back, flinching away from the sound. Fuck. Why had he done that? He’d been helping with a fucking sleeve, it hadn’t required his mouth. Jaskier was going to be pissed. He was going to demand that Geralt stay here while he went to the banquet and then he would find someone to bed for the night and he wouldn't try to find Geralt in the morning, and Geralt would have to set back out on the Path alone all because he couldn’t control himself enough to lace up one sleeve - 

“Geralt?” Jaskier's voice cracked slightly. The witcher clenched his jaw, wincing. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice sounded strained even to his own ears. He couldn’t meet Jaskier’s gaze. “That was… inappropriate. Have fun at the ball.”

“You’re not coming?” Jaskier asked, sounding distressed now. His scent was still free of the sour stench of fear and anger, but Geralt could hear his heart beating faster. “Geralt, look at me. Just - Are you alright?” Hands came to rest on his shoulders, and Geralt was startled enough at the contact that he raised his eyes to meet Jaskier’s. 

The bard looked nervous, but there was something else in his face too. Something softer. Geralt swallowed heavily. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that,” he said. His face tingled with the phantom of a shameful flush. 

Jaskeir smoothed his hands gently down Geralt’s arms. A comfort the witcher certainly didn’t deserve. “I don’t mind,” Jaskier said, impossibly. He bit his lip, his tongue darting out to sooth the spot. Geralt couldn’t help but follow the motion even as Jaskier gave him a wry smile. “I wish you’d do it more, if I’m being entirely honest. After all these years, I assumed you weren’t interested.” He took a breath, as if he was about to launch into a very demanding ballad, or perhaps jump from a cliff. “But I very much am. Interested.” 

Geralt stared at him for a moment, allowing the words to sink in. Jaskier was looking at him with wide, expectant eyes. His infuriating fingers played anxiously over Geralt’s, not quite holding on. Unsure of what else he could reasonably do, Geralt kissed him. 

Jaskier’s hands flew away from his own, and Geralt had a singular crystalline moment of panic before he felt them threading through his hair. Jaskier twisted closer, throwing himself into the kiss with little of the finesse he was so renowned for. It was too hard and too fast, but Geralt drank it anyway, inviting Jaskier in with his tongue and trying to convince him to stay. His fingers tangled in the loose ties of the shirt sleeve, and he could feel Jaskier’s pulse against them. It was almost more intimate than the kiss itself. Jaskier’s heart beat quick and steady under his hand, a rapid tempo just for him. 

Finally Geralt pulled away, breathing hard as he pressed his forehead to the bard’s. “This is a fucking terrible idea,” he said. 

Jaskier jerked back a bit to glare at him. “How so? Counterpoint: I think it’s a singularly marvelous idea, actually.”

Geralt shifted slightly, uncomfortable. “I can’t… I don’t want to ruin this. You. What we have.”

“We could have more,” Jaskier said, uncharacteristically fragile. Geralt wanted so badly not to break him. “Anything. If you just want a fuck, that’s fine. We can do that. If you want more than that, I… That’s okay too. Or not. Whatever it is, whatever you want.” His fingers smoothed down the back of Geralt’s hair, just at the base of his skull. A caress, as soft as if he were playing his favorite instrument. Maybe he was. 

“I’m going to want you,” Geralt said, like a warning. “Longer than you want me.”

Jaskier looked indignant. It was one of Geralt’s favorite expressions, when it wasn’t directed at him. Maybe even then. “I doubt that very much,” Jaskier bit out. The fingers in Geralt’s hair tightened, and the witcher let out a shaky breath. “I have loved you for almost my entire adult life. I doubt I’m going to stop anytime soon.” Jaskier still looked nervous, but there was more anticipation in it than before. Something closer to hope. “So I’ll say it again: Whatever you want. What do you want, Geralt?”

“You,” Geralt said, leaning in again. He pressed the words against Jaskier’s lips. “Always you.”

“Then you have me,” Jaskier said, and he did. 

[maxparkhurst]

Audience

DRUSTVAR, KUL’TIRAS

His nerves grew more frayed as the minutes ticked past. Alone in the parlor, the Kaldorei felt small beneath the dense layer of opulence. Only the finest chattels - cherry wood molding, crystal chandelier, marbled mantle, and velvet curtains the color of Blood Nettle- furnished the room. All gorged in a thin layer of dust’s antiquated beauty. Even the downy chair he perched on threatened to swallow him whole. Acting on comeuppance for the folder that weighed heavily in his lap. Inside it was little secrets held together by two meager staples. He swallowed hard and turned his expectant gaze to the faint sound of footsteps.

Click. Click. Click.

The soft hush of heels echoed in the cavernous room. Swallowed in the niches of a high, sconced ceiling until only muffled silence remained. And when it grew too deafening, stretching nerves thin, the grand oak door opened. Through it stepped a stunning river of maroon fabric, cascading over a generous frame and rippling above the toes of crimson dipped heels.

“Hyleass.”

Her voice traveled free through the air, heralding her sweeping hem across the parlor. She made his name sound so sweet-  as if it were made of honey itself. Rewarded his company with a handcrafted smile.

Hyleass couldn’t ebb the wave of delight that swelled in his chest. With the slight curve of his lips, he rose to meet the manor’s mistress.

“Lady Malakhov,” he mused, drawing her offered hand into his own, “A radiant sight as ever, Kal’dris.”

He placed a chaste kiss upon the backs of her knuckles. And she replied in turn - “Please, Hyleass. Just Vallory”-  with a radiance cast upon him by the air of unrequited laughter. Hyleass might’ve basked in those rays a moment longer if not for the menacing shadows they threw, and the shade which lurked within them. His gaze flicked to the gentleman who followed at the Lady’s hem. A bald-pated man who wore an iron-faced mask. Deepened by slate-grey eyes that sat heavy in his skull, whose gaze pierced through Hyleass’s paper-thin pleasantries. The only thing darker than the man’s dower countenance were the rumors laced with his name- Abel Eloi. Otherwise known as the Black Dog.

“Master Eloi,” he remarked, dipping his head to the notorious shade.

Abel spared the sparsest of smiles as he returned the gesture. “High Alchemist.”

The tension, thick and heavy in the air, seemed to bore the Lady. She dismissed Abel’s curt introduction with a subtle brush of jeweled fingers along his jaw. “Is that any way to greet our esteemed guest, dove?” Her question begged no answer, and she appeared pleased to have been met with respectful silence. She tapped her finger to his chin, “Now. Be a doll and fetch us a bottle of Shal’dorei red.”

“As it pleases you, m’lady.”

Hyleass watched Abel slip from the room, quiet as the shadows on which he drifted in. The space left behind cold and insatiable. “He is,” the elder Alchemist began, seeking refuge within the cushion’s over-bearing embrace, “Still under your employment, I see.”

“Oh yes,” Vallory purred. She circled the parlor floor, hem carried on an unhurried wind, until she drifted into the chase adjacent to his chair. Painted nails drew idle, spiraling patterns into the tufted fabric. “It’s hard to find someone as charming as him.” Her lips curled in a sly smirk. Silk dress drifted as she sprawled herself across the chase, black locks spilling over the side. “He serves me well.”

“Loyalty that knows no bounds cultivates lifelong servitude, dora’dor.” Hyleass arched a brow, fingers curling rivets into the folder. “One may consider that dependency. Surely you must’ve gleaned something from that fox.”

A tired sigh spilled from Vallory’s lips. “You’re speaking in riddles again.” She held her hand to the dim light, inspecting scarlet nails with an air of nonchalance. “And it’s boring. I don’t cater to guests who bore me.” She pointed at his lap.

And Hyleass followed it down to the folder.

“Speak to me plainly,” -a demand rather than a question- “Why have you sought an audience?”

And so it was time.

Hyleass straightened his posture and prepared himself to throw his cast. “I’ve brought news,” - he extended the folder out to the Lady- “From Stormwind--  Of the Parkhurst siblings.”

There- the first fissure in her well-manicured facade manifested by the curve of her lips. Hylaess caught the Lady’s attention, and welcomed her curious gaze as she freed him of his burden. She slid upright, slender leg folding over the other, and plucked the folder. Idle moments spent leafing through the papers and photos within. Something in particular piqued her curiosity. She rapped a nail upon the page before peering over its lip to Hyleass.

“What is all of this?”

The Kaldorei leaned forward, elbows coming to rest on adjacent knees, and nodded to the papers. “Records of the youngest’s petition. He sought certification, and the Board denied him advancement.”

She breathed a hum. Plucking a photo from the cluster, she turned absently between her fingers. Hyleass only caught the briefest glimpses of the young man’s beaming smile. “Poor apprentice,” she lamented, tutting with the shake of her head, “Trapped for another year in his sister’s shadow.”  A laugh touched her lips. The photo tossed back into the pile—Tell-tales signs of her waning interest.

“He’s quite unlike his sister,” Hyleass added earnestly, “Optimistic. Trusting. Naïve. ”

Vallory’s chin fell into an open palm. The paint upon her nails glistened as she drummed fingers along her jaw. “So I’ve noted. She’s adept at sheltering him. This is nothing new.”

“Yes. But now?” He reached for the folder in silent askance. She waved him on. And so, he leafed through the procured papers until he found the right image. The photo was held between them, though Hyleass could only see the Lady’s bemused expression. How her sly smirk deflated into a contemplative pout, and her shaped brows dipped in a sudden furrow. A shiver of titillation danced down his spine when her fingers brushed against his own, accepting the photograph with tentative stupor.

She licked her lips. Spoke after a moment’s silence, voice vacant of its usual warmth. “She is…”

“ - Distracted.” Hyleass settled back. Felt, for the first time, the cushion’s embrace to be welcoming. “Yes. Her attention diverted from her beloved apprentice. He’s taken that as an opportunity to enact a bit of independence. Found alone more often than not these days. Perhaps there is tension between the two….” The statement was left to simmer in the air.

It sat for seconds that drew into minutes—thickened by the sudden quiet which befell the Lady. Hyleass shifted in his seat. Callused hands working warmth in his fingers as he flexed them. He almost spoke again when the oak door opened. His gaze immediately found Abel’s as the shade drifted in with burdened tray in hand.

“M’lady,” - Abel offered her a maroon-filled glass- “Vintage. As to your liking.”

Vallory accepted with a soft hum and said nothing more. The wine stained her lips a deeper red as she took a thoughtful sip. Her gaze trained on the ripples inside crystal glass.

Hyleass ignored the indignation Abel’s gaze burned into his head. Instead, he beckoned for Vallory’s attention by ways of an uplifted hand. “Does this,” - he canted his head, ears flicking with newly set nerves- “Please you?”

Her lips lingered over the stained glass. Her gaze slow to find Hyleass from its distant contemplation. She rewarded his patience with a handcrafted smile, placing her hand into his palm. “Yes,” she purred, setting her glass upon Abel’s tray, “It pleases me greatly.”

Relief filled Hyleass’s chest. He all but melted beneath Vallory’s warm touch, drawing her fingers to his lips once more. Though, he did not receive another taste. No, she was quick to withdraw her hand. Paired it with its partner in folded pleasantry upon her lap. His palm remiss over the cold left in her wake.

“Though…” she mused, inclining her head, “I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything, Kal’dris.”

She hummed. Smooth and rich, it floated through the air with ease. And settled warm in Hyleass’s ears. He smiled despite hearing her request- he already decided he’d accept.

“Take the boy under your tutelage,” - she settled back into her nest of opulence- “Earn his trust. His confidence. And then?” Sharp like a dagger’s point, her grin grew. “See what he knows.”

[Prelude]

[ladynestaarcheron]

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Twenty-three

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79  @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb  @messyhairday-me @rinad307 @superspiritfestival @cass-nes @ireallyshouldsleeprn)

oh my God. here we are. chapter twenty-three.

what is there to say but thank you all so much for reading?

beware, this chapter’s monster sized. around 10k. also...relatively graphic birth scene.

thank you all. so much.

---

August 23 - Year of

In the end, it was not Cassian's fault she made the decision to leave.

Later, much later, she would wonder if he blamed himself and she almost wished she could tell him otherwise. Because even in those last months they spent together, he was good to her. Better than anyone else had ever been. Sweet and teasing and kind. Such kindness. Who had ever treated her this way? Who smiled like this when she walked into a room? No one had ever been happy to see her. And from the way he looked at her and the things he said, she knew he felt the same way.

So he probably didn't realize anything was amiss.

For Nesta answered every kiss with one of her own, tugged his hair right back, pinched him affectionately when he interrupted her reading.

It ran deep. More real than blood, more concrete than any vow. Late at night, in the bed that had become theirs, she told him of her deepest wish as a child, how she had done everything her little mind could think of to win her mother's praise and love and how it had destroyed her when she had died without truly giving it to her. He had far less family history to share, but he told her in turn what he could: how Rhsyand's mother had been the first person to show him any kindness, how the hero of that children's story, about the thief who stole the night, was all he wanted to be when he grew up because of how he built for himself what he was not given, even how cheap the first female he'd ever been with made him feel when she revealed she never wanted to acknowledge him in public because of his status.

Bit by bit, nightly, Cassian would bare his soul to her a little more, and she'd feel guilt as she didn't share all of herself in return. There were things she could not say.

He knew, though. Of course he did. He knew her better than anyone, saw right through every layer she had wrapped around herself. That was why he'd ask her, from time to time. A sweet kiss, a cup of tea, and a simple question: What's wrong, Nesta?

Answers varied. Nothing or headache or you're irritating me, won't you let me read in peace? or a myriad of other things.

She could not tell him because she could not admit it to herself.

Here is what she could not say: I cannot love you because I will inevitably lose and you and you're the best thing I've ever had so that will destroy me even more than everything else already has, and I know that I will lose you because you can never put me first above your duties to the Night Court and your High Lord and I will not settle for second to him.

In the end, she didn't have to. And that was not Cassian's fault either.

It was her sister who spared her the act when she knocked on the front door.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

It wasn't the pain that woke her up. It was the wetness between her legs. An odd, gooey sort of substance. What was that, Nesta wondered. Was she bleeding? With that thought, she kicked off her blanket, but with her sudden movement came a definite tug from deep inside her-oh.

It was happening.

Nesta took a deep breath and raised her nightgown. No blood, she saw, and her shoulders relaxed. Just the mucus, tinted pink slightly.

Nesta had read enough on her own and asked Amorette enough to know: this was early labor. It had just started at...fifteen past four in the morning. It could be anywhere from an hour to a few days before active labor started. Logically, she knew she could take a bath, go back to sleep, and wait till a reasonable hour to call for Amorette, but logic wasn't what spurred her. The faelight was in her hand before she realized it.

As she loosened her fingers around it, her heart rate picked up. She would be doing this alone. Her mother would not be here. Her sisters would not be here. How had she not considered that before? Why had she gone through with this? Why hadn't she terminated the pregnancy when she'd had the chance?

She forced herself to practice her breathing. There was no use in panicking now. Far too late for that, anyway.

On her twentieth slow exhale, she heard the door downstairs open and shut, followed by quick footsteps up the stairs.

"Nesta?" Amorette said from the hall, voice clear and strong despite the ungodly hour.

"In here," she called, in more of a wheeze.

Amorette was at her side almost instantly. "Are you in pain?" Her blue eyes ran up and down Nesta's body, hands going to feel her cheeks.

Nesta flushed. "No," she said. It was stupid to call her, wasn't it? "Just...my water. But no pain...yet."

Amorette drew her hands back in surprise. Then her face broke out in a wide smile. "Congratulations," she said, cheery. She draws a chair close to the bed. "Let's have a look, shall we?" Amorette folded the blanket up from Nesta's toes to her knees, so Nesta couldn't see what she was doing, which she greatly appreciated.

"So," she said, folding the blanket back down. "You probably know this, but you're in one of the first stages of early labor. You're just barely dilated."

"Do you know how long until..."

"Well, there's no real way for me to know for sure," Amorette said. "But seeing as you haven't felt any real pain yet, and this is your first birth, we probably have at least a few hours to go. You can take a shower or a bath now, then maybe do some light exercise with me. We'll take it as you feel it." Her eyes crinkled, genuine warmth spreading across her face. "Let's just do what we can to help you relax, Nesta! You're having some babies today!"

All the forgotten gods. If there were any sentence that would not help her relax.

---

August 23 - Year of

Nesta hadn't been expecting Emerie, but sometimes people from the camp came by to tell Cassian something. Of course, he hadn't been home in three days, but perhaps they didn't know. Maybe they had to drop something off or leave him a message.

So Nesta wasn't too concerned when she opened the door.

Her lungs seized in her chest when she did.

"Hi," Feyre said softly, inclining her head forward. A lock of hair slipped out from behind her ear and swayed in front of her face, caressing the corner of her lips. She was the slightest bit darkened by the sun, contrasting prettily with the brightened gold of her hair. "Can I come in?" she asked. Her voice was sweet, calm, laced with something that wasn't there when they were growing up.

But Nesta could say nothing in reply. All she could do was stare at her sister. She wasn't even trying to say anything, or grasp at her thoughts, or make sense of this. She was...dumbstruck.

"Nesta," Feyre said, concern tightening her brow as she took a step closer and reached out a hand. "Are you all right?"

It was Feyre's touch that spurred her back into herself and let her jerk backwards and say, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," she replied. "Can I come in?"

Nesta only stared in disbelief. "Can you come in?"

"All right," Feyre said, smoothing her hands over her legs. "Let's get you something to drink."

And with a measured, leisurely step, Feyre backed Nesta into the house.

How did that happen?

"Some water," Feyre said, making her way to the kitchen sink.

Had she been here before? Had she...had Cassian...told her to come?

Feyre turned, bringing the glass into the living room. "Sit with me," she said.

Nesta did not sit. "What are you doing here?"

Feyre set the glass down on the table, next to Nesta's face down book. "It's been nearly a year," she said.

Since they exiled her out of Velaris. Yes, she was aware.

"I know that you're...doing better," Feyre said, and Nesta's heart stuttered. What had Cassian told her? Had he-had he shared what was theirs? "And I thought, maybe now...we could talk."

Her sister gazed up at her, earnest and patient. How regal she looked, there on the couch. Ugly, she'd always thought, with its faded blue pattern. Nesta recalled leaving her tiny apartment in Velaris back in September and wishing she could pick out furniture of her own someday.

But there were no throw pillows or rosewood bookshelves or pianos dancing in Nesta's mind today. There was really only one thing she could think of.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Feyre raised an eyebrow-Nesta didn't think she had ever swore in either of her sisters' presences before. She didn't like to, as a rule, but, well. Desperate times. Insane, radical, maniacal times.

"I'm not," she said. "But I understand-"

"You clearly do not," Nesta cut in, "if you think that there's any chance that I want to talk to you."

"Please just listen, Nesta-"

"Or what? You'll kick me out of Illyria, too? Send me off to the Hewn City, perhaps? Do I only get to live my own life if it's out of your court, is that it?"

"No, Nesta, please," she said, standing up too. "Look, I think-you needed space, all right? You know you did, and now that you're-that you've got it, now-"

"Don't you dare," Nesta said, raising a finger and making Feyre flinch. "Don't you dare take credit for any good space has done me. It's only because anything would have been better than-" Nesta bit her tongue to stop herself from finishing the sentence, but it didn’t matter.

But Feyre clearly didn't plan on leaving until she'd said her part. She blinked the hurt out of her eyes and said, "I don't care about the reasons. I'm happy you're doing better, but it's not enough. I know you still haven't taken control of your magic. Amren can help-"

Nesta laughed, cold and mirthless. So different than how she'd laughed just a few days ago with Cassian. "You are out of your mind." Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "If you think I'm ever going back there, you are completely out of your mind."

Feyre sighed. Folded her arms over her chest. "Well. We still have to do something. What do you propose we do?"

Nesta's eyes narrowed. She drew herself straighter. "There isn't a we," she said, voice like ice. "You made it perfectly clear you wanted nothing to do with me when you banished me from your city of love."

"Nesta, you know that isn't true-"

"I'm going to ask you again. Can I stay here in Illyria without being further accosted by you and yours, whenever you decide it appropriate to meddle?"

Feyre clenched her jaw. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Nesta."

She didn't hesitate. "Then leave."

Both sisters stared at each other. How odd was it, to look into her own eyes in Feyre's face. Nesta still remembered the night she was born, how she had marveled at them. Little Elain had had brown eyes like their father, and she had blue-grey like their mother, and she had wondered how the baby was going to look. She thought she might have one blue and one brown, but then she had come, and secretly, Nesta had been so pleased. Another pair of eyes just like hers.

How far they had both gone.

Feyre broke away first, as Nesta knew she would. "You don't have to worry about me coming here to accost you," she said as she turned to leave.

Nesta said nothing as she opened the door and closed it behind her.

But she didn't believe her. Not for a moment.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

Amorette had arranged to stay with Nesta till noon if her state did not progress at all, and if it did to then make a decision on how they should proceed. Nesta told her she'd do whatever she thought was best, but she wanted to keep her visitors to a minimum. So of course, promptly at seven, the door downstairs swung open again.

"Breakfast, Nesta!" Zeyn announced. "Oh, hello Amorette-oh! Nesta!"

Zeyn's deerlike ears shivered in excitement as he took in the view before him. While Nesta had been in the bath, Amorette had transformed the room to a midwifery. Nesta's bed had been pushed closer to the wall to make room for a massive pool, with four steps up, filled with water slightly warmer than the air in the room. A table on the far side held a number of bowls, towels, and more scary-looking supplies like scalpels. Far more terrifying than that was the small pile of pale blue blankets, hats, and pacifiers, all dotted with tiny maroon sugarberries.

"You-you're in labor?" Zeyn grinned broadly at her.

"Not quite yet," she said.

"Early stages."

"But that's wonderful! Oh, Nesta, congratulations! I'll tell Miri and-"

"Be sure to have everyone send their well wishes and drop jam by the door," Amorette said, "but I insist that the only people who have entrance to this house as soon as active labor begins are myself and my staff."

Nesta shrugged at Zeyn and shot Amorette a grateful look when he turned.

"I'll make sure there's always someone here on standby," he said. "Just in case."

"It might be as long as a few days, Zeyn," Nesta reminded him.

"I don't mind," he said. "I can wait all night."

Nesta softened. He was sweet. She'd give him that much.

"I'm right in assuming you don't want anyone else here?" Amorette asked, checking with her after Zeyn left.

"Definitely." Sugar Valley was full of welcoming people, but...Nesta wasn't one of them.

Amorette nodded, keeping her mouth firmly shut.

"What is it?" Nesta asked, wary.

"I know you don't like to talk about it," Amorette said apologetically, "but are you sure there's no family you'd like me to contact now?"

Nesta locked her jaw. "Positive."

"All right," Amorette said, nodding. "Please don't hesitate to let me know if you change your mind."

Nesta didn't answer. She had nothing to say.

---

August 24 - year of

Nesta was seated on the couch waiting for Cassian when he arrived. The glass Feyre had poured was still on the table where she had left it, next to the book Nesta had not touched.

"Hi," he said, heavy. He sat down across from her.

Across from her. Not next to her. There would be no mindless touches, no distracted kisses for this conversation.

"Did you know?" she said eventually.

He swallowed. "I knew...that she wanted to. I knew she was going to eventually. I only knew specifically when I arrived in Velaris. And I didn't know what she wanted to say."

Nesta stared at a spot on her skirt, brushing away lint that wasn't there.

"What did she say?"

Nesta ignored him. "What did you tell her about me?"

"Nothing..."

"What did you tell her about us?"

"I didn't. Nesta. I didn't."

"But she knew."

"You shine off me," he said boldly. She looked at him. "Anyone who sees me knows."

That much was true. They had made their marks on each other. Permanent and stark as the battle tattoos he had up and down his arms all over his chest.

"So you never talked about me?" she pressed.

He hesitated. "I used to. In the beginning. When we...when we first came here together."

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing real. Just that you got a job. I didn't even tell her you and Emerie were friends."

She fell silent again. How much of Cassian was really hers, she wondered. She knew she wouldn't be allowed to have him all the time-he'd always go back to Velaris for Solstice and Starfall and whenever their Circle willed it. But when he was there, was he hers? Or was he a version she wouldn't recognize?

She'd never know. And it wasn't fair because-look at her. Every part of Nesta was so clearly Cassian's now. Her heart beat after his. "There are things I have to do, Nesta, you know that," he said, begging still.

"You're nearly six hundred years old," she snapped, so different from the joking manner she normally said that in. "You make your own decisions."

He winced. Didn't argue. Because he agreed with her or because he didn't? "Nesta, we both know how we feel about each other. So if we just stay here...can't that be enough?"

She met his eyes, pleading and caring. She knew that even though his soul was tied to this land and this Court, tonight his body would be hers. And he would be receiving of all she agreed to give him, now and forever.

And no. It was not enough.

Because Feyre was right. She was better now. Time and space had a certain persistent kind of magic, reliable and true. She was not broken and scared.

So in the end, it was not even Feyre that made the decision for her.

It was her own choice.

"Yes," she lied, not even regretting it. She stood and crossed the room to sit by him.

He was gentle and anticipating when he brought her face close to his and kissed her, but she could no longer marvel at how someone could know her so well and stay with her. Instead she mourned what she could no longer hide from: she was not enough for him. He was never going to choose her over this Court.

And just like that, while she kissed him back, the choice was made.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

The morning's progression was slow and almost imperceptible until seven minutes past nine, when Nesta cried out in pain for the first time.

Worse than her cycle. Worse than the practice contractions. A sharp twist starting low and getting lower, matched with movement, with one the-babies-jerking downwards.

"Nesta," Amorette said, holding both of her hands. "Look at me. Match my breathing...there you go..."

Nesta gasped and tasted salt. Was she crying? This was pathetic. It had barely started and she was already crying! "I can't do this. Amorette, you have to-"

"Shh, just breathe with me. There you go."

Breathing was easier said than done. Her lungs were being held in chokehold. Surely this wasn't right-surely this wasn't supposed to happen-

And then it faded. Nesta exhaled.

"All right," Amorette said. "That was good. You did very well, Nesta."

With her head slack against her headboard, Nesta managed to focus her eyes on the clock.

Eight minute past nine.

Less than sixty seconds of a contraction, her first real one, and she was already sweating and crying.

"I can't do this," she said again, miserable.

"Yes, you can. You already did, see?"

"I can't. Is this-is this active labor? It wasn't supposed to happen yet. I was supposed to have at least another day."

Amorette smiled warmly at her. "No one promised you that. You're fine. You're well-prepared."

Nesta's pulse quickened. Amorette didn't understand. She was not. She had no one, nothing, and she couldn't do this. She knew her limits, and hers was a very short distance from where she was now.

"Nesta," Amoretta said kindly. "Remember everything you've read. You're smart and strong and capable. Remember I'm here with you, and my team will be here soon, too. People less-equipped than you have given birth before and survived. You're going to be more than fine. I promise."

Nesta's eyes welled up with tears again. Amorette didn't understand. She couldn't understand. Nesta would not survive this. There was too much wrong with her. She was going to die in labor or right afterwards or live to fail these children that she didn't ask for.

No one understood, no one would ever understand. Nesta wasn't herself. There was a part of her that wasn't her own. There was the Cauldron, and it was inside of her and it was going to kill her one way or another. Probably the babies, too.

And she would die alone and unloved.

Amorette squeezed her hands. "Close your eyes," she said, "and let it out."

"Let what out?" Certainly not-the babies?

"Whatever you're feeling."

Nesta let out a strangled laugh. "I doubt you want that."

"I assure you, Nesta, I am familiar with birthing rituals. Let it out."

"Let what out?"

"A scream. A sob. Sing, if that's what you want. So long as it comes from inside you."

Nesta opens her eyes. "It's not very motherly of me."

Amorette smiled. "Whatever you've got, I've seen worse."

Nesta pursed her lips. Gave a small shrug, almost subconsciously. And burst into hysterical tears.

She had made up her mind, on her birthday, to put her past behind her, but today she cried for all that she had been through. For her mother's cold distance and death and her father's failures and her own and the loss of the relationships with her sisters, again, and even for Cassian.

And for the three little creatures, struggling inside her, to make their way into the world.

And for herself.

And sometimes for the pain, too, as it grew worse and more frequent as the hours went on.

It was nearly ten before Nesta calmed down, and by then Amorette's team had arrived. Two young female healers, who, Nesta had to give them credit, did not so much as blink at Nesta's sobs.

"How-how far apart are the contractions?" Nesta managed when she had calmed down.

"A little over three minutes," one of Amorette's assistants answered smoothly. "Would you like some tea?"

"Thank you," she said, taking her proffered mug. The sweet strawberry taste did her good. "Are...am I still all right for a water birth?"

"You are," she answered. "Everything's going just fine."

Nesta looked to Amorette, who smiled at her.

"Really, Nesta," she said, nodding. "All is as it should be."

Nesta wiped at her eyes. The other assistant handed her a towel. "Should I...should I get in the pool now?"

"If you'd like," Amorette said encouragingly.

"Are you going to get in with me?"

"Not just yet. Only for the births."

Nesta shivered. Births. And they were soon.

The second assistant held Nesta's hand as she helped her up and walked her in. Amorette had told her, when she had first expressed interest in a water birth, that many females liked to experience it naked. She was, obviously, not going to do that, and wore a night dress that had a tie for the skirt at her waist.

"Water's warm, right, Nesta?"

"Yes."

"We're keeping it at this temperature so the babies have an easier transition."

Transition out of her body and into the world. "All right."

"Hungry? Want anything in particular?"

"No..."

"Jam?"

"No."

"All right."

They kept talking to her like that, calm and collected, asking her if she'd like food or music or to get out of the pool or if she wanted to go over the birth procedure again. For another two hours.

And then the minutes between her contractions disappeared, along with her life as she knew it.

---

October 16 - Year of

There was nothing particularly dramatic about it. Nesta spent the next few weeks with Cassian and Emerie as she normally would, if perhaps a little quieter.

Nearly a year ago, she had decided to work to book passage on a ship to Gilameyva. That dream had altered slightly: she would book passage away from Prythian the fourth day after Cassian left her. Three days without him, and she would be gone.

It was like a deal she made with him. Tell me you can't bear to be apart from me and I'll stay.

But of course, he didn't know.

Cassian left the morning of the twelfth. "I'll see you soon, Nesta," he whispered against her lips.

"I'll miss you," she said, heart breaking a little.

He didn't come home.

Again.

And again.

But she already knew that was what would happen.

So when she left Emerie's shop that night, it was just as she always did.

And in the morning when she awoke, and emptied her bank account and made her way to the docks, bag of meager belongings in hand, it wasn't hard. It was easy. It was right. It was finally someone putting herself first. Even if it was only her. Even if no one else had.

By noon Prythian slipped below the horizon. There was no trace of her left on that island, save for a note and a pair of grey-blue eyes in someone else's face.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

Nesta was hyperventilating.

Somewhere, someone was holding her hand. "Breathe," she said. "Breathe."

It all came rushing back to her. The room stilled around her. That was Amorette there, in front of her, in the pool with her. And-all the forgotten gods-it was time. It was happening.

"I can't do this!"

"Follow Lyra's breathing," Amorette said, voice smooth and calm. "There you go...Nesta, don't you see? You're already doing this...and you're doing a wonderful job..."

"No," she said, sobbing, "no, no, no no no no no-oh!"

"That's it, Nesta, just like that...you're going to do this, right? For your babies?"

Nesta gasped. Nodded once.

"Excellent. Just follow Lyra's breathing...Ama, you have the towel ready...yes...all right. Just keep breathing Nesta. Just like that. Perfect."

Nesta most certainly did not feel perfect. Her breathing was more strangled gasps. And she was being split in two.

"Something's wrong," she said.

"I promise you, Nesta," Amorette answered, patient as all goodness. "Everything is fine. You're doing wonderfully. And in just a few moments...you're going to push."

"No-no-no-"

"Shh, Nesta," Amorette said, holding her head. She smiled warmly even as Nesta sobbed. "You're doing a fantastic job. And it's almost over. You're almost done. And you're going to have your children."

"No-"

"Keep breathing for me, Nesta. I promise. Do you trust me?"

"Amorette-I can't-"

"Listen to me, Nesta," her voice only getting quieter with every octave Nesta's rose. "You have been through worse. You're going to do this. It will hurt, but in just a few minutes, you'll understand. But you have to trust me. All right?"

Nesta's breathing quickened, but she forced herself to match the young healer-Lyra's-patterns. She had made this decision herself. She had to do this. In a few minutes, she could tell the females to take away the babies and give them to someone else, someone better-and then it would be over.

But she had to do this first.

"All right," Nesta said, in between breaths.

"Good," Amorette said. "Keep that breathing pattern...keep up with Lyra...all right. Perfect. Now...push."

How Nesta's body knew exactly what to do when Amorette gave her order, she would never understand. But it did, and she pushed, even though she wanted to stop every second she was doing it.

In all her life, Nesta had never felt something like this. It was like the worst of her cramps multiplied by a thousand plus being ripped in two.

She let out a strangled cry.

"Excellent. Excellent, Nesta. Now...push."

Nesta cried out, but again, even though it killed her, she pushed. And pushed. And one last time, one last horrible, miserable, blinding time, and it was the absolute worst pain there had ever been in all the world, and she was going to die, and there was a massive influx of blood in the pool from inside of her, and there was something small and black-a baby.

Amorette caught the thing as it came out of her. Why was it...she was bringing it up slowly...the cord still attached to it-what would happen? Would it tear?

And then Amorette brought the thing up out of the water, and it screamed, and she held it before Nesta-and the black--the wings-unfolded--and it was her daughter.

The pain disappeared out of Nesta's mind. Everything disappeared. Everything was gone, stripped, nothing had ever been there at all. There was only her. And then Nesta's arms stretching out to hold her.

Nesta let out a small noise as she brought her close to her chest.

"Archeron daughter, eldest of triplets, high noon," Amorette said, somewhere far, far away. Distantly, she was doing magic, cleaning the pool.

But all Nesta knew was the soft pink skin of her little girl. Tiny fingers...on both hands...and a small nose...and eyes she could barely open...and black wings...and a shock of dark hair...and just-the most-perfect-thing-

Nesta was not giving her to anyone else, ever. She would be-she would do everything, she would split the seas and take down the moon. She would do everything.

"I swear it, Avery," she whispered to her.

"Avery Archeron," Amorette said. "All right, Nesta, dear."

Nesta looked up at the hand on her shoulder.

"There, there...a handkerchief, Lyra...yes...didn't I tell you? You see? Now...we're going to give her to Lyra-she's going to be right over there, see? And you're going to deliver her placenta...and then we're going to do this again. All right?"

"Yes," Nesta said firmly, even as she shook. She could do this. And she would. For her...for her sons.

It was utter rubbish that she had to deliver a placenta in between babies, but no matter. She vowed to do everything and that vow would start now.

Later Nesta would not be able to recall if that part of labor had caused any pain. She assumed it had, but all she could remember was bliss and anxiety and love as she looked over at Avery-Avery! A real person with a nose and shoulders and eyelashes! To say nothing of everything inside of her body and mind!-and impatience as she waited for Amorette to finally let her push...for her son.

The pain was not nearly so bad the second time around. Nesta took care to clamp her mouth shut-she didn't want to scare Avery with any screams. And besides, what was pain to this? To the girl over there, wrapped up in a blanket, opening her eyes to her first day on the planet?

The sooner Nesta could finish this, the sooner she would enjoy it with her.

For the second time-finally-like someone pulled a plug out of Nesta and blood came pouring out into the pool...and then her son.

It took everything in her not to rip him right out of Amorette's arms, and it was only not to disturb the other boy still relying on her that she did not.

It was just like last time. Amorette raised him out of the water. Black wings cocooning him into the ball she pushed him out as unfolded to reveal...her son.

She was not prepared. It didn't even matter that it happened with Avery mere moments ago. It was happening again. It hit her, again. And she realized it would be that way when she saw the other boy, too, which only further spurred her tears.

And then she was holding him. He did a better job of opening his eyes than his older sister-Avery was an older sister! He was a younger brother! And soon he would be an older one, too!-and his eyes were hers. The same eyes...her own. Right there, in his perfect face.

Surely it couldn't be. Surely...but this must be it. She had been through hell and back, and for this. She had to pay to experience this, and she had, and now, he was hers. She had him. His little eyes...her eyes...but his. And the way his lashes flutter up at her as he cried-the same way Cassian's lashes did.

And she knew his name. The little boy who would want for nothing. Nicholas. Any night stealing for this one would be purely recreational.

"Hello, Nicholas," she whispered.

Was this her life now? This-this joy? Forever? Every single day of forever? It couldn't be. There had to be some sort of catch. Surely no one got a life like this.

"Nicholas Archeron, second of triplets, eight minutes after noon," Amorette said. "All right, Nesta. You see how wonderfully you're doing?"

Well, she must be. If she had gotten Avery first and now Nicholas.

"So you're going to give little Nicholas over to Lyra...and she's going to take good care of him right next to Avery...and we're going to do this, Nesta. Your third baby. Are you ready?"

"I'm ready." She didn't know it, but she had been born ready for this.

"All right. Kiss goodbye to Nicholas...here we go, Nesta. Placenta and then your third baby."

Once again, Nesta was extremely irritated with the function of her body. Who the hell cared about this part? Her babies were over there on that table. And she wanted her third.

Finally, like an angel singing out from the heavens, Amorette said, "Now...push."

It was different this time. Sharper. But Nesta didn't care. All the pain in the world couldn't stop her from this. She was addicted to that feeling, and she was going to have it once more. She was going to see him, hold him, once more...now!

Even more blood this time, but she figured that was to be expected. Because everything would come out now, right? Perhaps the placenta had come out with him this time-and she wouldn't even have to wait, she could just get out of the tub and be with them.

Amorette caught him through all the gore...brought him up...broke him out from under the surface of the tub...and handed him to Ama.

And stepped out.

Nesta blinked.

"Scalpel, now. Lyra, stay with them, we're all right."

"Amorette?" she said, not understanding. What was...what was...why did she take him? "Amorette, you didn't let me hold him."

But Amorette didn't answer. No one spoke. Even her babies had stopped crying.

Then it hit her.

Her son had not cried.

"No," she said, desperate. "No--no--no--"

Had she really thought the pain of labor was worth crying about? Had that been her, mere minutes ago?

This couldn't be happening.

Couldn't.

A horrible thought occurred to her-was this the price she had to pay? To have two perfect babies, did she have to lose this one?

"No, no, no, no no no no please please--"

Who was she begging?

"Please please PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE--"

"Nesta--please--"

Avery and Nicholas cried as she shrieked. Could they feel it? Could they feel what was happening-to their brother?

She would do anything. She would--could she die instead? Surely, this Mother they all worshipped, surely She would let--was she not a mother? Did she not understand? She would do it, she would die a thousand deaths, a million, if someone would just let her--

And just as Nesta drew breath to scream-scream louder than she ever had before--there it was.

A third cry.

Tinny. Weak. Gasping.

But it was there.

"You see, it's all right," Lyra whispered in her ear.

"Here we go, here we go, here he is," Amorette said, bringing him to her. Too slow--far too slow--

But then he was there, small--so small, and weak, and a wing that did not look like the others', but alive, and right there in her arms--and--and--

"You're strong, Ollie," she said to him, as she met his eyes for the first time. "I promise. I promise you, you are. You're so strong."

"Ollie Archeron," Amorette said. "Third of triplets, thirteen after noon."

"Ollison," Nesta sobbed. "His name is Ollison Bailey."

For the strength her father had shown at the end of his life--for human strength. The most enduring kind.

And now it was her turn. She would do it. She would be strong, for all of them, forever.

"We had to cut the umbilical cord a little early with him," Amorette said gently, running a hand over Nesta's ducked head, "so Lyra has to take him now...you're just going to deliver the placenta-"

"Please, please, can't I-"

"It's a few minutes, Nesta, I swear to you, and then you have the rest of your lives together. All right? Can you give me these few minutes?"

Nesta took a deep breath. "Yes," she said. She squeezed Ollie close to her as she kissed his forehead and gave him to Lyra.

This one was the worst. They were all there, on the table, small and in need of their mother, and there wasn't even a good reason for her to still be in this pool.

"Oh, Nesta, cheer up!" Amorette laughed, right in the middle of the afterbirth. "You're almost done, just a minute longer...and then you'll be on the bed and holding the babies! And I promise you, Nesta, they're fine."

Finally, finally, finally, she could climb out.

Except she couldn't, because she could not bear her own weight out of water.

"Amorette-"

"Hush, dear, give your body a minute. Here...we'll bring them around..."

And they did. Each healer holding one, presenting them to her. Nesta couldn't decide what to look at, her eyes just darting wildly around. There were Avery's ears and Nicky's fingers-he closed them around hers!-and Ollie-Ollie-

"I promise you, Nesta, if I saw reason to take him to the hospital, I would have immediately," Amorette said gently. "He's fine. He's going to be fine."

Nesta nodded, but she said, "I don't believe you."

Amorette laughed. "Well. That's your job."

After a few more minutes, Nesta gained enough power in her legs to climb out of the pool and collapse on her bed.

The healers sat with her.

"Did you want to breastfeed?" Ama asked her.

Nesta looked at Amorette. She had initially told her to bring the stuff for the bottle. "Can I try?"

Amorette grinned. "Of course you can."

Hands shaking, Nesta brought little Avery closer to her. Ama and Lyra suddenly found the boys very fascinating as Amorette helped her take her top off.

The sensation was...not magical.

"All right," Amorette said. "You'll both get the hang of it eventually...or not. It's really all right, Nesta. You can try with the boys later or decide not to."

"I want to try."

"All right. We'll keep trying. But we can stop whenever you'd like."

Nesta nodded. Perhaps she would stop. Or...perhaps Avery would never like nursing this way. It didn't matter.

A laugh escaped Nesta as she realized it-it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing except for these three. Avery, Nicky, and Ollie. She would feed them one way or another. Whichever way they liked best.

And as the the beautiful sunshine of the year's longest and most perfect day faded out her window and moonlight spilled in...as neighbor after neighbor and new friend after new friend came to visit Sugar Valley's newest residents...Nesta knew what she had to do to protect them.

They had not answered her letters. They had rejected her.

That was fine.

But she would not let anyone--anyone--reject her children.

And the only way to ensure that was to ensure that they never knew them at all.

So Nesta did the only thing she knew was right: she reached to grasp onto her magic, deep inside of her...and after a day of pushing, pulled. Right over her head. To cover her like a shield.

There. No one would find her now.

And if no one could find her...no one could hurt them,

And that was all that would ever matter again.

---

October 18 - Year of

Once, Cassian had come home and Nesta had not been there and his heart had fallen right out of the sky. Now it was normal, even comforting. Nesta was not at home because she was at work where she was enjoying the day with her friend.

So he didn't think anything was amiss when he arrived and knew she wasn't there. Almost didn't notice that her scent was too faint to have marked her presence there that morning.

Almost.

But he was just a little too tuned to Nesta's being to miss something like that.

"Nesta," he called, even though he knew there was no point. No books in the living room, no dishes on the sink. No cardigan strewn around. And when he opened the door to their room, the bed was cold and untouched.

Save for the the letter on his side, with his name written on it in beautiful script.

His hands shook as he reached for it. Had anyone ever written his name with such care? He doubted it. But she had, he knew. He knew.

Cassian, she wrote,

I've gone. I won't come back. Leave me be.

I'm sorry.

Cassian flipped it over. Nothing.

She didn't even sign it.

That was all he could think as his soul folded in on itself.

She didn't even sign it.

---

June 21 - 1 year after

Elain knew her disinterest in learning about her power irritated Amren, but she didn't mind. It didn't bother her that Feyre was disappointed in her, either, so why should this?

She knew they thought it was a waste of her potential. She just didn't care. Trying to See...it felt unnatural. Invasive. She didn't like it. It made her feel like some of the old women on the edge of human towns like the one she had lived in, practicing all manner of dark, forbidden things.

Azriel had cautiously tried to bring it up. He told her how his shadows had frightened him, at first, but with patience and time, he had learned to wield them however he wanted.

And that was lovely for Azriel. Really. She was happy for him, proud of what he had overcome. But this...didn't appeal to her in the least. It didn't even matter to her.

Until the Summer Solstice, when she awoke in a guest bed in the Summer Court, a scream in her mouth and cold sweat on her face.

Feyre and Rhys burst in her room--Az was there, Cassian, someone was running down the halls, but she couldn't see-she couldn't See.

"What is it?"

"She's crying. Feyre, is she--"

"Elain, dear, let me see. Are you bleeding?"

"What is it? Who screamed?"

"Did someone break in? Why is Lady Elain...I'll get some tea."

"Elain, look at me. What's wrong?"

"Which way did they go?"

"No one saw anything. There wasn't anyone here."

"Elain," Feyre whispered to her again, squeezing her tightly. "Elain, what is it?"

"Everyone out," Rhys ordered.

"It's-gone," she sobbed. For even though she had not used it, it had always been there. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

Through her tears, she saw Feyre and Rhys exchange bewildered looks. Azriel sat down next to her, covering her shoulders with something soft and blue.

"What's gone, Elain?" Azriel asked her quietly. "Is it Lucien?"

"No," she sobbed, in between gasping breaths. "It's--it's--Feyre--she's--gone."

Across the room, she could feel Cassian tense. He understood, even if no one else did.

"What?" Rhys asked him.

Cassian's voice was low, blank. "It's Nesta. She can't See her anymore."

Feyre dropped in front of her, squeezing her knees. "Elain. Look at me. Please. What do you mean? What did you See?"

"Where was the last place you Saw her?"

"Was she-"

"Enough," Azriel said, calm and cold, as he always sounded when he talked to anyone but her. "Let her catch her breath."

He sat next to her, hand firmly on her back. Someone handed her a cup of tea. After a few minutes, she calmed down enough to drink it. Shortly after that, she managed to speak.

"I never...really Saw her. I wasn't looking--you all know I don't like to." Elain paused to take a shaky breath. Azriel's fingers moved up and down on her back. "But I always...felt her. And now. Just now. She's--gone."

This time, when Elain sobbed, there was no accompanying concerned chatter. It was her alone.

And that's how it always would be. Because her sister...

"Elain," someone said at her side. Not Feyre. Not Az. "Elain, look at me."

Elain picked her head up and looked into Cassian's eyes, reflecting the same pain she felt.

"We're going to find her," he said, voice low like it was before but decidedly un-blank. "I promise you."

She could only cry in response. Because how could they find her? Her sister's being cut off from her sight like this could only mean one thing.

But Nesta would do anything-had done everything for her. So this, surely, was the least she could do in return was...everything.

"All right," Elain said, swallowing her cries. "We'll find her." She clenched her fists tightly.

I swear to you, Nesta, she vowed silently. I will do everything I can.

---

4 years after - February 21

Not two hours after Zeyn brings the children back, they are in Velaris.

They're thrilled to be back. There's a celebratory meal at Feyre's riverfront mansion. Pictures of her children now decorate the walls more than anything. They are gazed at, passed around, adored. Nesta can hardly blame them. Still, she doesn't have to enjoy it.

Cassian is at her side through all of it. And he holds her hand on the way down to the carriage. Right there, in front of everyone. He had never done that before. She catches a look he exchanges with Rhys, but she can't tell what it means.

As usual, he offers to bathe the children while she unwinds, but she chooses to join him. Is this not the point of this...endeavor? Co-parenting together?

"I want the blue bubbles!"

"I want green!"

"It's my turn!"

"Then I want my own baths!"

Nesta blinks. Can it really be time for their own baths? Are they...going to be bathing themselves soon? That can't be. She remembers the day they were born still, like yesterday.

But...somehow, they are nearly four.

Four...children learn the alphabet at that age. Will they be...reading soon?

It's all she can think of while Cassian tells them the bedtime story they choose. When had he learned them all? Just by watching her?

"Goodnight, ladybug," she whispers to Avery.

Across the room, Cassian says to Ollie, "Good night, little lieutenant."

Her heart leaps as she kisses Nicky and Ollie both. He has nicknames for them. They have a relationship with him. Each of them individually. And from each sleepy Goodnight, Appa, she hears...it only confirms it: these children know they have a father and they know who he is and what he is to them.

He takes her hand again as they shut the door behind them. She wonders if he's going to lead her to the bedroom. It wouldn't be the first time Cassian has mistaken her intentions for the evening.

Not that she--well. She's tired. Tonight. But--she doesn't know.

He takes her downstairs, instead. To the living room.

Considerably more decorated than it had been when she had first arrived for Solstice three months ago, but not quite a home yet. Getting there, certainly.

"Let's talk, Nesta," he says, pulling her next to him.

Nesta takes a deep breath. "Let's," she agrees.

"Who first?"

"I'll go," she says, because she's still too scared to hear what he has to say. "What...you want to know why I kept them from you?"

"I want to know why you hid yourself from me."

Semantics, she thinks, but no matter. They're adults. They're capable of having this conversation.

She takes another deep breath. "You didn't write back. You rejected me." Her voice catches slightly, but she powers on. "I didn't know if you were going to do the same to them. And I couldn't let...couldn't let the happen to them. So I hid us. To keep us safe...from losing you." She had started off strong, but she ends in a whisper, eyes sinking down to her skirt. It is a while before she looks back up to see him staring at her.

They don't say anything, and she isn't sure how much time has passed before he breaks away, standing up and turning around.

He runs his fingers through his hair, but the gesture isn't slick or arrogant: he's frustrated. Angry. He fists his hands in front of him and kicks at the ground.

"Dammit," he says, the word half a growl under his breath. "Dammit, Nesta."

He turns around to face her again. Still, she does not change her cool expression. She doesn't care if he was worked up. She isn't. She has worked hard to move past her anger, her hurt. Built up her indifference like a carefully constructed barricade, after he had destroyed the first one she had spent her whole life crafting painstakingly, nearly five years ago. She cannot let herself feel that again...even though she knows she has to. Knows it's coming.

She doesn't know what she expects him to say. Probably something like I'm sorry or What will it take or It's just not fair, I didn't know, Why can't I, Why won't you, but he doesn't. He surprises her.

"If you honestly thought you could tell me to my face you were pregnant, and that I wouldn't immediately drop everything and take care of you, I failed...miserably in loving you. I did a horrible job."

She tries not to let anything through, on either side: she does not want to let herself feel what his words mean and she certainly does not want him to see the impact upon her. But she can feel her apathy slip from her face as her heart beats faster and blood rises to her cheeks.

He has never told her... he has never said...

"And you'll never know how much I hate myself for letting this happen, Nesta. I've become everything I hate and everything I worked against. I left you pregnant and alone." He is looking at her, but as his eyes narrow, Nesta knows he isn't seeing her. Like there's a screen separating them, like he is seeing someone else.

"I know I just..." he sighs, wringing his hands. "And you're just," he says, now waving them at her. His wings tighten and flare out.

She has never seen him so out of his element-she has never seen him out of his element, out of control, uncomfortable. Cassian acts like everywhere he stands is exactly where he's meant to be.

Except now, with her, apparently. She drops her gaze, staring at the floor. She's rarely comfortable, anywhere, but once she had been...so at peace, with him. That's gone.

"I know I keep fucking up with you," he says finally.

She looks at him. She feels the heat that had risen to her cheeks drain out and then come back in again. She still doesn't say anything. She doesn't trust herself to open her mouth.

"I let them send you to Illyria. But even before that... I promised you time. I told you we would have our time and I didn't keep that promise. I should have fought harder. And then I should have shot them down when they suggested Illyria. And then I should have stayed with you every day. I should have helped you wean yourself off drinking. And then I should I have followed you to Gilameyva. And then I should've rubbed your feet. Or your back. Or whatever it is you needed when you were pregnant. And then I should've held your hand for the births. And then woken up with you when Nicky had infections, or Ava had a fever, or Ollie with his coughing. And then I should've listened to you. And-and given you everything all the while. Everything you needed. Everything you wanted." He moves towards her, suddenly, faster than he did when he wasn't on the battlefield. He's a few feet away from her, and then he's clutching her shoulders, pulling her to her feet, closer to him.

"Nesta," he says desperately. "Say something."

She traces the lines of his face with her eyes. Her hands are clasped in front of her, so close to him now, but she does not touch him. She breaks them apart to hover her fingers over the siphon in the middle of his chest, just barely grazing the tip. He clenches his jaw and scrapes his nails against her arms.

"You..." she says, looking into his eyes. Her daughter's, her son's. The most beautiful eyes she has ever seen. The most beautiful eyes in the world, now with a glimmer of hope.

"You locked me up," she whispers. And there are tears on her face and in her voice.

His hope vanishes. "I know," he chokes out, tears in his voice, too. "I know, sweetheart."

"I didn't want to go."

"I know."

"You let them..."

"I know."

"I had nothing--I was scared--"

"I know. I know."

"And you left me."

"Yes."

And then she says it-what she's been waiting for. "Why didn't you ever write back?" She holds her breath tightly, half wishing she could take back the words, still too afraid to hear his answer.

He doesn't look away and he doesn't let her go. "Because you hurt me and I was angry and I wanted to hurt you back."

She sobs little, trying to keep it inside but failing.

She knows that. She's known all along. And it might not have mattered, might have been understandable, forgivable...were it not for the circumstances. Three tiny circumstances.

"Nesta. You'll never know. You cannot-you have been a perfect mother. The whole time. You'll never know how sorry I am."

Nesta coaches herself on her breathing. That's the best she can do right now.

"Listen," she says, after a few minutes of this. "I think we both know...we can't pretend to start over." She reaches up to touch his cheek and her angles his head closer to her hand, closing his eyes. "But we can...work with what we have."

His eyes fly open. "What do you..."

"I'm going to be splitting my time," she says, "between Sugar Valley and Velaris. We're opening a location for Sugar Books here...I'm going to be Head Archivist."

"Nesta, that's wonderful--congratulations-"

"And in the meantime...for now...I'm going to spend some time on myself...and I think you should too."

He blinks. Clenches his jaw.

He's a warrior, her Cassian. He never lets anyone see his pain.

But she can see it. She's always been able to see it.

"For now," she repeats. "I think...it would be...prudent."

"Prudent."

"It means sage."

"Yes, thank you," he says, making her laugh slightly. Even through it all, he's still making her laugh.

"I don't have a timeline," she says. There are things she wants to do. Work on her magic with Ameren--maybe repair what she had with her. Accept who she is as a female so she can help Avery do the same with herself, when that day comes. And the shop. She'll be Head Archivist. She can make it out to be whatever she wants. "I can't tell you when...but I want you in our lives. And they want you in their lives." Because the best thing for children is to have both of their parents. Not having their parents together...not if that takes away from one of them, makes them less in some way. Only if it makes them more.

He nods. "I know...this isn't your home. And I know that Sugar Valley gave you what I failed to. But...you know...you know I love you?" His voice cracks at the end.

She nods, holding back her own tears. It's not forever, she wants to say. It's just to start. And it's for them. It might change. We might change.

But she doesn't have to, because he knows. He always knows what she's thinking.

He sinks to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his and bringing them to his lips: slowly, gently, trembling.

She swallows hard. "Come on," she says, tugging him up, voice firm. "Let's go to bed."

---

A few hours later

Cassian stands in the doorway of his bedroom-Nesta's bedroom? Their bedroom?

The bedroom where Nesta is sleeping, at any rate. Where he is invited to sleep, too.

He's not sure if he will yet. He knows she wants him there, but it might be too hard for him. To spend the whole night by her side, and yet...not be with her.

He'll take it day by day, he supposes. That's all he can do. That's what Nesta wants.

She's asleep. Everytime he sees her like this, he's struck by how truly young she is. He forgets, sometimes. He's nearly six hundred years old, as she always liked to say, and she's his better in every way that matters, so.

He walks down the hall to crack open the door to his children's room. Nesta caught their argument in the bathtub, too, he knows. Tonight they sleep peacefully together, but it won't be long before they want their own rooms, their own space.

He wanders back to the other room. Nesta stirs slightly as the floorboards creak under him, but she doesn't wake.

Reaching down into his pocket, he pulls out a small box and opens it.

It hadn't been a full hour, the Solstice years ago, that he dove down into the icy Sidra, cursing his own rashness. Stupid to throw it out like that. Obviously, she wasn't going to want anything to do with him then. And it was selfish of him, he knows. He knew that then, too. He didn't want her to have it, he wanted to be the one to give it to her.

And, he thinks with a rueful grin, that's still the case.

Nesta's mother's ring had not been easy to track down, but one look at an absentminded sketch of Feyre's had been all it took to keep it lodged in his mind until the day he finally held it.

He's not quite sure if it's Nesta's style or not. They've never browsed jewellery shops together. She has the necklace he gave her, sure, but she loves that because she loves anything to do with the children. Will she like this for the same reason? For her parents...and for him?

It's wrong to give it to her now. She's made herself clear and he'll listen this time. He'll give it to her...eventually. Later. When she's ready.

And maybe it won't be an engagement ring. Maybe it'll be a here's how much I love you, I'm willing to scour every human jeweler and pawnshop and the whole world until I find what you want ring. Either way, he can't give it to her now. She needs time. They both do.

No matter. After all, he's nearly six hundred years old. He knows how to wait.

And Nesta's worth waiting for.

[musedblues]

We’ll Be Alright

Summary: The heart wants what the heart wants. Roger seems to live by that motto. You're certain he has more than enough. But he's determined to prove you wrong.

w/c: 12k (oops?)

a/n: Here it is! My LOC Event Fic for the wonderful darling @brianandthemays​ 🌈 This is my first time publishing something for Roger, so I'm a bit anxious, but mostly excited! I sincerely hope you enjoy this lovie 💖 Thanks to  @dtfrogertaylor​ for hosting another fun event! Without further ado...

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Freddie escorted you through the doors of his favorite overpriced coffee shop, a Thursday afternoon tradition. Like always, you followed behind your friend and complained about the things that had gone wrong all week since the last Thursday like this one.

"...And not only did my internship get canceled, but they dropped the whole production. Now it's too late for me to sign up to any other until the fall." You fretted all the way to the back of the place, plopping down in a booth across from Freddie. He was entirely overdressed for the casual occasion, but you'd be worried if he wasn't.

"Well, you think you've got it bad, dear, we're on an actual fucking deadline for once. We have to record in two months and we have no songs, and no place to stay and rehearse for a month. All our neighbors have had enough." Freddie waved his hand and widened his eyes, only trying to relate to you by airing out his own misfortunes.

"You're kidding, right?" You narrowed your eyes as Freddie waited for you to make clear what you thought was already obvious. That's when a barista brought out your usual drinks. The staff had come to expect you and Freddie to twirl in like clockwork and order the same drinks at the same time each week. So eventually, someone started making your orders ahead of time.

"Decaf tea and a piping hot black coffee." A familiar girl placed mismatched cups between yourself and Freddie. Your feather haired friend bowed to the barista who laughed on her spin the other direction.

"Fred!" You snapped his attention back on you, wrapping your fingers around the steaming mug.

"My dad owns that countryside villa in Surrey."  You reminded. "Well, it's more of a done up farmhouse. But, still." The countryside getaway was more quaint than Romanesque, but it was big enough for a band. Freddie's obsidian eyes sparkled, maybe with remembrance, but you couldn't tell past the obvious hope that flooded his gaze.

"Oh, darling. Do you think we could come and stay for a while? We just need a place to write and rehearse before we record. Could you help?"  

"I'll see what I can do. We have a big empty barn where you could set up your instruments to practice."  You shrugged, taking a sip of your tea.

"You'd save my life darling, you'd absolutely be my queen." Freddie fawned.

"Yeah yeah, some friends we are. I've talked about spending summers in Surrey more than anything. Do you even know me?" You dramatically provoked, sticking your lip out for show.

"I know that you always order decaf tea. And that your dad owns a place in Surrey. And that I'd do anything for you if we got to stay."

"You're in luck... I haven't got anything better to do this year!" You laughed, albeit a little somberly. You had always loved wasting away summers in the countryside. But, until recently, you'd finally been an arm's length away from dipping your toes into the metaphorical waters of your dream job. You'd finally felt like the future was at your doorstep, and it was all canceled in the blink of an eye.

///

You followed Freddie home from the coffee shop, at his behest. When the sunset, he and his three best friends were scheduled to put on a show. And according to Freddie, you needed something new and fun to wear. At the foot of his bed, he tossed dresses and tops and scarves over his shoulder, digging in an old chest for something your style. You leaned against his pillows, laughing as your friend argued with himself while matching patterns.

From behind Freddies halfway shut bedroom door, you heard the front lock turn and a bright giggle you didn't recognize echo into the flat.

"Roger's home." Freddie looked up to you, holding out a dress and jacket to imagine how it might fit your form.

"That doesn't sound much like Roger." You laughed, posing in place as Freddie held up another outfit. With a look, he moved to click his bedroom door shut.

"You're right. It sounds like Ivy. Who I'm sure is a fine girl, but is entirely wrong for Roger." Freddie tossed a floral number your way as he shut the lid of the chest decidedly. You let out an "Ah," of understanding moving to change your outfit.

"Is anybody right for Roger?" You chuckled, thinking to the few long evenings you'd spent getting to know Queen's drummer. He was deadly funny, and jarringly good looking. With an overload of talent and style, you recognized Mr. Taylor as one of the most sought after bachelors in the region- using the word bachelor loosely. He always seemed to have a lady on his arm. At least one girl was hot on Rogers trail each time you'd been near him.

"Well, yes." Freddie sang, leafing through his own closet. "He needs someone driven in their own right. Someone willing to deal with all the pressures of Roger being a superstar, because you know darling, we're going to be famous one day. Someone who will be happy for him. Someone he can be just as proud of."

You halfway listened as you shimmied into the outfit your dear friend picked just for you. It fit quite nicely, even with the back still unzipped. Freddie had thrown on a yellow and black striped jacket before he sauntered over your way.

"Someone quite like you, if I'm honest." Freddie seemed to confess as he zipped you into style. He barely got the chance before you spun to face him, holding back a barking laugh.

"You can't be serious." You began, watching Freddie feign innocence. "Freddie. No. You're scheming I can tell!" You pointed as your friend spun out of your way. Where was all this coming from?

"I don't know what you're on about, love." Freddie sighed, grabbing a pair of sunglasses. "I'll leave things between you and Rog to figure out yourselves." He reached for the door with a shrug.

"There isn't anything between us to discuss!" You laughed, in a bit of shock at the prospect of this conversation you hadn't seen coming at all. You'd never had more than a few casual conversations with Roger. Freddie seemed to drop it, spinning into the main room to get the show on the road.

Roger was there, lounging with a pretty little hippie lady decked out in lace. Freddie called for the pair to get up and get going- it was time to head toward soundcheck.

"Rog, before we leave, pay some respect to the lovely y/n. She's going to save our lives this summer!" Freddie fawned, ignoring your previous discussion, trying to start a fire that you never realized had the potential to burn.

As Roger led his date out the door, he stalled to greet you for the night.

"Nice dress, love." Roger's familiar rasp was gentle past his grossly over-rehearsed line. His saucer eyes raked up your figure in a way you'd seen him do to others, but never to you, until now.

"Thank Freddie." You spoke through your teeth, turning away from Roger to hide your blush and shoot your glare to the frontman who was already biting back an "I told you so."

///

You could count the evenings you'd spent with Queen on a couple of hands. But the days you spent with Freddie were in the hundreds by now. He was your closest friend, someone you meditated with, cried with. Someone who might have known you better than you knew yourself. And on occasion, some of Fred's bandmates would join in on the fun.

John had become accustomed to accompanying you and Fred on Thursdays for coffee and tea. You liked John's ideas and the way was keen to listen to you and Freddie banter more than he joined in to do the same. When John spoke, it was decidedly. A wit filled joke, or a valuable point, John hardly uttered any passing thought; unless, of course, he was absolutely hammered.

Brian would sometimes join you and Freddie before shows for dinner, or on rainy Sunday afternoons to play Scrabble and dream of the future. You admired the things that mattered to Brian and how fiercely he protected the value of the things he spoke of, big and small.

Then there was Roger. He was always around, in the other room, at the back of the stage, at the end of the night. But he usually kept company of his own. And the times he joined in for Scrabble or lunch, he was usually too preoccupied with whoever he brought along. But there were odd exceptions- when Freddie had fallen asleep and Rogers dates would leave for the evening- when you'd share a drink in the kitchen and traded updates on your week.

Times like then, you noticed Roger's gaze was hypnotic. You didn't think it was a power he used manically. You figured it was a trait that came naturally, the inherent draw of his piercing blue eyes. It must have been what made all the girls line up like ducklings and follow Roger around for their turn at wooing him. He was always kind to them, and a few times you wondered if he might have fallen in love. But then another would follow the last and you decided that Roger must have been happiest dating around, meeting all kinds of people with all kinds of stories to share. Such was the way of a man who dreamed of touring the world, singing about it, and the lot.

///

"Do you own any wellies?" You asked, twirling your mustard yellow phone cord around your index, studying your grossly overpacked suitcase.

Freddie's response of laughter was rich and crackly through the other line.

"I'm just saying... that you're bound to muck up those ballet flats of yours when you and the boys come to stay in Surrey in a week."

"You serious? We can come and stay? Oh, how shall I ever repay you?" Freddie shrieked into your ear. You held the receiver back with a grin as you tossed a couple of sweaters on the floor in hopes your suitcase would better zip closed. Freddie promised you he was on his knees, shouting thanks into the phone. You promised you'd see him soon, gave him the last of the info he needed, and managed to seal your bag shut.

///

You swore you could smell the freshness in the air, see the vibrant hue of the trees through clearer eyes. The house in Surrey your father called a villa, was the place you spent most summers.

Until the last few summers in a row, the summer palace was a place your extended family came to stay for a month or two. You'd all get together and kick around the countryside for a while, forgetting petty worries and putting off all the responsibilities you could manage. You hadn't missed a summer yet, but each one became quieter, less action-packed. Last year it was only yourself and your parents who spent a while enjoying the quiet getaway.

But you always had Mona. The old, cheery, pale-haired woman hired to come around on the weekends to help keep order about the place. You always insisted she stay and enjoy a day or two of peace when her work was done. Mona always accepted the offer, much to your delight. When there was nothing left for her to do, she gave in to your pleas to help bake ridiculously complicated recipes or to simply keep you company in the quiet for a while. You and Mona would lose yourselves in conversation while cooking meals and enjoying days where you did nothing but track the rise and fall of the sun in the sky.

Then there was Otto. He was your only neighbor for miles, right across the road, behind his own mess of trees. Otto was only a few years older than you, and when his parents left the property, he gladly took it over with big plans of his own. After Otto had landscaped his home to his heart's content, your father hired him to come and spruce up your family's property. Even if that hadn't ever happened, you'd already made a habit of inviting Otto over for dinners and game nights. You imaged going it alone in the depths of the country had to be lonely so many months in a row.

Last summer, Otto made miraculous headway on your property's garden. He planted new trees, fixed up your old windows, and even built a chicken coop, something that provided a bit of entertainment for you, but became your neighbor's pride and joy.

He'd stop over every day, even if it was just to check on the chickens. And following close in  Otto's stride from across the road, was his pet retriever, Pepper. Otto never minded when you stole his pet for walks through the trails you'd worn between trees in the distant forest, over the years.

In fact, the golden pup was always the first one to greet you every summer. The tradition held fast even now, as you pulled into the gravel drive. You spotted her yellow form zooming from out of nowhere at all, barking to greet you.

"Hi Pepper!" You chimed after collecting your luggage. You dropped to your knees at the edge of the drive as the dog bound your way. She was nearly eight years old, or was it nine, now? Pepper pranced in time with you as you made your way to the countryside home for another year in a row.

"Your dog missed you especially, this year." Otto's familiar accent drifted from the porch, where he appeared to stand painting the entry doorway. He dropped his brush and turned to watch you ease up the steps, with a smile.

"I missed her too." You smiled, rolling your eyes at the decade-old joke. The pup belonged to Otto but she was always hot on your heels, usually leaving her owner far behind whenever you were near.

"Ah yes, she has been sneaking in and sleeping on your bed. Hope you don't mind the extra layer of fur tonight." Your mother popped her head in the doorway, careful not to touch the fresh paint. She waved you inside, insisting Otto follow along. Apparently dinner was ready.  

The home was as cozy as ever, long wooden halls and big comfy furniture. Your father was sat at the kitchen table, sorting through a stack of mail. Behind him your old, dear friend. Mona abandoned her mission to reorganize the silverware drawer to wrap you in a big warm hug. The kind woman had always been like a grandmother to you. Between the company of her and Otto, your summers here were even more special and sought after.

"Alright, sit." Your father turned his eyes toward yours, gesturing for you to rest in the empty seat at his side.

"Nice to see you too, dad." You laughed, gazing to the mail set out before him.

"I've socked up on food and essentials for all your mates coming in a week. And since they are your friends, ya think you can handle staying here while mum and I go on our own summer holiday?"

Your father figured you could handle keeping order, and he made plans with your mother seem like a long time coming.

"I can phone your uncle to come help if you don't think you can manage it."

"How hard can serving tea and keeping the place clean be? I'll have Mona's help like always. And Otto's a great human security system. remember a few years back when he wrestled a man double his size, to the ground? Made him cry."

"Oh yeah, that guy! Pretended his car broke down and tried to break in." Your mother pointed with a shiver. Otto had spotted the stranger stalking toward your home in the middle of the night, and you all woke up to the sound of the two wrestling in the gravel driveway.

"I'm just a poor gardener, but I'll do what I have to." Otto declared as you all chuckled at the distant memory. Otto took a handful of dinner plates from your mother's grasp and offered to help set the table as you moved next to Mona to help finish make the first evening meal of the summer.

///

It was early enough for you to double-check everything three times. Living room tidy? Check. Snacks on the counter? Check. Extra blankets, pillows, and beer enough for a band full of divas? Check. All that was left to do was sit on the porch with Pepper at your feet, and wait.

You'd spend endless days doing just that, but you had never had something quite like this to look forward too. You'd brought some pals to stay, growing up, but this was different. You could almost sense that Queen's stay in your family's cherished getaway would be the marking of a time you'd remember more fondly than most.

Eventually, the sound of crunching gravel disrupted your daydreams of the future.  You were quicker than Pepper at your feet, who followed behind on your bolt down the porch steps with a delighted squeal.

John was the first one to step out of the van when it pulled to a stop. You raced up to greet him with a hug, one he returned with a bit of shy reluctance, but genuine mirth all the same.

"You're here! You're here!" You cheered, noticing Brian as you broke your hug with the feather haired bass player. You couldn't be stopped from greeting the lanky guitar player with the same excitement, your hug ended when Freddie's voice called out;

"I'm here! Hug me!"

Freddie planted a kiss to your cheek as you flung yourself toward him with a smile. The band stretched their legs out onto the grass, remarking about the beauty of the countryside.

"Welcome, you." You looked to Freddie, whose brows rose high over his dark sunglasses, his smile glowing as he peered past your shoulder to take it all in.

"Don't I get a warm welcome?"

Roger's familiar rasp whined from a few paces behind. He was dressed in denim head to toe, and was wearing the most ridiculous hat you'd ever seen. It made your heart buzz with some odd adoration you hadn't expected to feel at the sight of him. Your strange sudden feelings made approaching the blonde seem newly nerve-wracking, but you were glad to see him. So you opened your arms and invited Roger into a hug, same as everybody else. But Roger wasn't everybody else, was he?

Ever expressive, Roger scooped you up and lifted your feet from the ground in gratitude as he said,

"We owe you our lives for making this happen!"

You laughed in surprise, letting out a little squeal as Roger stumbled in an attempt to spin you around.

"Rog, put her down! She's got to give us a tour of this place or we're bound to get lost. It's massive." Freddie barked.

Roger did as he was told, setting you on your feet with care. You pulled down the bill of Rogers silly hat and spun around to lead everyone inside.

As the boys entered your favorite place, you introduced them two at a time to your family and friends who hurried to greet them all the same. It was a mess of hello's and warm welcomes as you shut the door and stepped further inside.

Your father held an arm out to show the boys to their rooms, chatting away on his tour down the halls. Your mother lifted a brow and shoulder when her gaze met yours after lingering on the band as they walked away.

"You've got a fun summer ahead." She grinned as if she knew something was coming, something you couldn't see yet.

The next thing you knew, you were helping Mona finish making dinner. You were sent to find Otto in the forest of flowerbeds outside of the barn. The two of you walked up the hill after you invited him in for dinner, listening to Otto ramble about the plans your father talked him into, of starting a vegetable garden.

Your mother had already rounded up everyone else in the dining room, going on about how excited she was to get to know your friends. And to your surprise, she'd even broken out the fancy fine china.

Between Otto and Freddie, the usual security you felt in their company had only been on separate respective accounts. Your worlds colliding was something you hadn't expected to be so warmed by. As you ate, you realized all your favorite people were here in one lucky place.

Queen were ever themselves, interrupting one another to share stories with your parents and Mona who asked questions at breakneck speeds. And while the jokes and banter flew from one topic to another, you held your breath each time Roger spoke up. Because every time before now, Roger only spoke in playful tones, and daring one-liners. You expected him to say something that might have embarrassed you, even if that wasn't his goal, if he even had one. But Roger surprised you in a different way, one you hadn't expected.

He utterly charmed your mother with the way he spoke about his education and aspirations. He gained your father's respect sometime after you poured everyone a new drink. During dinner, Roger was... shy. No, not shy, respectable. Boyish. No, not boyish... forbearing in a way you'd never seen from him before. Maybe you didn't have Roger figured out after all...

///

Your room was full of things you loved, in the back of the house. You enjoyed the privacy, but seeking through the halls at odd hours was always a challenge you held your breath during. The wood creaked underfoot as you followed the beams of the rising sun through the halls, daring not to wake anyone.

You snuck toward the front door without a hitch, clicking it shut with care. When on the steps of the porch, you were surprised to find two of the boys had already risen and were sharing a smoke.

John and Roger turned their heads from the steps, smiles stretching when they saw you.

"The only time I've seen you two up this early was if you were still awake from the night before." You laughed, stretching into the new day.

"Never realized you were such an early riser, either." John spoke up, stamping out his cigarette.

"Things are different here." You shrugged, making your way down the steps between the two musicians.

"Where are you going?" Roger wondered. His hair was tangled from sleep, but the dark spots near his eyes suggested he'd only tossed and turned all night.

You found yourself searching his features for a beat too long, and only played it off by raising a brow and nodding for the boys to follow you, if they so desired.

And they did. As you rounded the back of your home, you stalled near the shed and grabbed a bucket from it's tried and true stop- then you headed for the chicken coop.

This was something you did every morning, you'd never missed one. Otto handled everything else, but he always let you help out if you pestered him enough.

"This is Otto's coop." You introduced the paint chipped structure as John and Roger chuckled in awe, the band had yet to have a proper tour of the grounds.

"He built it, and everything. But I come out here every morning, just gives me something to do." You waved for the boys to walk ahead of you, before you made it to the spot you stopped in every morning.

Chickens emerged like clockwork, and the boys went about chasing a couple around like little kids. One took a particular liking to John, flowing at the man's side, stopping when he stopped. And try as he might to bend down and reach out to a group of the birds, Roger had yet to score any over.

"Why don't they like me?" He whined while John laughed in response. And just like that one bird turned from the group and started flapping and clucking toward Roger, sick of being pestered. The blonde bolted to his feet with a yelp, skipping away until the chicken stopped chasing after him in a flurry.

"I'm scared, hold me." Roger reached out to you, wrapping his arms around your side. It was comforting, it felt like less of a joke than Roger made it seem. But when you turned your head to look at him, you wondered if Roger might have actually been a little distressed.

But he'd constricted your arms, and you couldn't hug him back. So you glanced back to the house and said,

"Come on, ya big baby."

Roger's grasp slowly loosened as you lead the way, but you could feel his eyes remain fixed on you.

"I'll keep you safe, big baby." John threw an arm around his friend's shoulders as the three of you started your trek back up the hill and around to the front porch. Roger let out a comical fake cry just before you made it inside to find Freddie and Brian reluctantly awake in the kitchen.

The boys gathered around the table while you scurried to make tea, and insisted they help themselves to anything in the cabinets. And it wasn't long before the rest of your parents emerged out into the new day, Mona popping out into the kitchen soon after.

Your father showed the band to the barn, and offered to help them unload their instruments in the big empty space. Your mother took the tea you poured for her and settled into the sunroom with Mona, where you joined the ladies to gossip about everything that happened since last summer.

Day's like today, there isn't much for Mona to do, but she still got paid for sitting around chatting with you. Though she'd likely turn down the extra cash at the end of the weekend, your dad would always sneak a few bills into her purse when she wasn't looking. You'd have to remember to do the same when you were left alone.

///

Your parents and Mona all left the next morning, and the week that followed was some kind of adventure- even with the little routine you'd found yourself in.

Brian ended up being the early bird, while the others milked every last bit of sleep they could get. When you awoke and found Brian reading in the small nook of the living room, you got to talking about something so in-depth that he followed up out to feed the chickens. And that's how most mornings all week had gone, chatting away in the early morning, meandering down the hill to the birdhouse with Bri at your side,  prattling all the way back to where you came from.

One by one the boys would collect at the table to pick at the breakfast you'd gotten in the habit of making, before they drifted off to the barn.

You'd stay in to clean up, stalling near the open windows where you could hear your friends music drifting up the hill. They'd clatter through newborn songs and riffs that came together each time you stood to listen.

All week, you shared lunch with Freddie. In the sunroom, on the porch, wherever as long as you were together to chat like you usually would once a week at the coffee shop. And throughout your newly established daily lunch meetups, Freddie began making liberal use of his drummer's name. "Roger this," "Roger that," The blonde started taking up more space in your conversations than most other topics.

"What's with all this talk about your friend, huh?" You challenged Freddie, reaching for some fruit on a plate you shared between the two of you.

"Surely you've caught on by now, love. He's quite taken with you?" Freddie nonchalantly responded, reaching for an apple slice of his own.

"And surely if that was the case, Roger would have made that clear by now. He flirts in place of breathing." You chuckled.

"Then he must really like you. I've never known him to get so tongue-tied. Even when he's talking about you, which he never stops doing." Freddie shrugged, looking off in the direction of the warm breeze. You both stayed silent for a beat, your excuse- searching for what to say next. But Freddie found more words before you could.

"I think he would be happy with you. And I think you'd be happy with him. I just want you both to be happy."

"Well, so long as we've all got you Fred, I'm sure we will be." You grinned, truly meaning it. You and Freddie clinked your apple slices together in a toast, more like a truce to drop the subject, for now anyway.

Then as the sun burned, you meandered poolside, making Otto cease digging in the dirt long enough to ask how his day was going and distract him from work just long enough to share a few laughs.

You'd always ask him to take Pepper out, and he always insisted you didn't need to ask. You'd wander toward the forest with your furry friend, enjoying a bit of quiet. You used to bring books and pencils along when you had nothing better to do than sit against a tree and dream of the future. But this year, you keep calling Pepper back the way you came at the end of the trail, in a hurry back to check in with your friends.

When night fell after long dinners full of more chatter than food, everyone decided they'd seen enough of each other. That's when you and John would steal away the sunroom, and play cards moonlight. Sometimes you wouldn't speak much at all. And sometimes you'd share secrets, wishes you thought anyone else might make fun of you for dreaming of.

And all week, when you least expected it, you kept ending up next to Roger.

The blonde would ask to sit out on the porch with you, where you curled up in a rocking chair to read. He would ease onto the wooden steps and scribble away in his notebook, crossing out lyrics and penning new ones. He'd never tell you what he was writing, and you never asked. But you heard him humming under his breath, and you missed the gentle sound when you were called back in by Freddie for one reason or another.

Roger would find you again eventually, though. He'd leaf through the books in your living room, asking about every author. He'd appear at your side at the table during every meal, even the ones everyone ate in a hurry before scurrying off to rehearse.

One afternoon he surprised you by the side of the pool, when no one else was around. Though you had started to prepare to see Roger around when you least expected it, it was always a pleasant surprise.

"How's rehearsal today?" You asked, looking up from where you sat with your feet dangling in the water. Roger squinted your way, the shadows on his face illuminated by the hot summer sun.  It wasn't until you patted the space beside you that Roger spoke up, and slowly moved to join where you sat.

"Freddie called for a break. Writer's block, or something."

You hummed in understanding, watching Roger relax at your side. And after another look your way, maybe to check if you were actually keen on listening, he went on...

"I think we've all got a hit up our sleeves. Now if we could just all agree on one thing for one minute." Roger laughed, crossing his legs, reaching in the pool to grab the stem of a leaf that floated by.

Right then, Freddie stormed around the corner. He called off practice for the rest of the afternoon and declared he planned to lock himself in his room to finish writing.

When the door shut decidedly behind Freddie, you and Roger burst into shared laughter. And for another hour at least, you stayed right where you were. Roger told you about the songs he was writing. And the songs the others were writing. He asked what you would rather be doing, because surely, staying in the middle of no place with the lads of Queen around every corner, couldn't have been at the top of your list. You assured that it was, in fact. But you still somehow started to talk about how disappointed you had been to lose out on the opportunity to live your dreams, this summer. You talked about what you wanted and why you wanted it. Roger listened and asked questions he seemed truly interested in hearing the answers too. What was the harm in sharing a few more laughs?

///

The next day at breakfast, everyone was called to order by Freddie, who relaxed at the head of the table with some announcement to make. He sat in uncharacteristic patience as his friends filled up on orange juice and yammered about what they planned to accomplish that afternoon. When Brian went off on some sorry muttering over whose songs were better or worse, you and Roger locked eyes, and dulled the same sort of snicker. You were both thinking the same thing- thinking back to the conversation you had most of yesterday.

"Alright! Listen!" Freddie demanded. "We're taking a break today. We're going to lounge poolside, and gossip about trivial things. And if anyone starts to argue about recording or writing or what you bloody want to wear on stage, you'll be swiftly excommunicated to the chicken coop. Got it?"

There was little push back and soon the lot of you abandoned your breakfast to head outback.

The boys zoomed ahead of you, tossing their things into the places they claimed as their own. John sat at the small iron table under the cool shade of the umbrella and cracked open a magazine. Brian set up his things on a beach chair and was the first to creep toward the pool. Freddie checked his hair in a small compact mirror as he kicked off his sandals. And Roger raced straight for the deep end, splashing you with water on his dive in the water.

You yelped in surprise,  shocked by the cold.

"Come in!" Roger chirped after emerging to the surface.

"It's a bit cold isn't it?" You laughed, setting your things on a chair nearby.

"There," Roger intentionally splashed water at your feet. "Now you ought to be used to it. Come in!"

You reluctantly sat on the edge to dip your feet in as Roger waded toward where you settled. You turned your eyes to the water to avoid ogling the drummer, your throat going dry at the sight of his mostly bare frame so close to yours.

"I supposed it's not as cold as I thought." You cleared your throat, more so trying to keep your own cool. He hummed, still inching his way closer, making your cheeks burn.

And then, he was pulling you in. Roger yanked you from the edge, keeping a sturdy hold around you to ensure you didn't go under. You felt strangely comfortable and secure in his arms, in all the commotion. But you were still surprised enough to splash water in Roger's direction, a pitiful attempt to get back at him.

"We're meant to be relaxing!" Brian reprimanded, dodging the water you were splattering his way on accident.

"Exactly, Bri, do calm down." Freddie teased as he walked down the steps to join the rest of you.

"Deacy! Darling! You can read later, come enjoy the sun while it's here!"

And just like that, Freddie's wishes came true. The people he loved circled around your favorite old pool, gossiping about trivial things and hardly mentioned making music at all. It was the perfect summer day.

Eventually, you decided to get out to fix lunch for everyone. On your walk toward the house, you found Otto hunched over a broken wagon wheel, skin tanned from years under the same summer sky. You demanded he took a break and joined the lot of you for a much needed day of nothing but fun. He agreed, but only if you'd let him help throw food together.

When the pair of you toted trays of bite-sized lunch foods out to the nearest shade, the band of boys casually flocked to join you, scattering about the shade and fueling up to float around some more. Otto gave everyone a lesson on the kind of trees you sat under. Brian took a beer back to the deep end, Freddie following close behind, muttering something about catching the last of the day's sun. John offered to carry the empty trays back in, where he planned to head for a much-needed nap, swearing he planned to beat you at cards later.

Then there was Roger, who sulked between you and the rest of his friends. He sat near you, keeping his mouth full of beer as you chatted with Otto about all the times you'd enjoyed the pool most, before. And when Roger eventually joined Freddie and Brian in the pool, the blonde kept casting looks your way, gazes no one missed.

"He's a bit mad about you isn't he?" Otto pointed out in a hush, sipping his own beer while you scoffed a laugh.

"That's just how Roger is. He can't help himself. There's usually a line of girls waiting around for him. I must be his last resort, out here in the middle of nowhere." You explained, shifting your weight in your seat and pretending you didn't notice the drummers glances your way.

"Oh please, if that was true he'd be trying to to make you blush, right now. He's resorted to lovestruck gazes, and the occasional glare my way. That man likes you." Otto chuckled, pointing his beer can toward the boys in the pool. "Trust me I'm a guy, I know what's happening."

"That's dumb." You shot Otto a look over the top of your sunglasses. "Roger is my friend." At least you were pretty sure he was. "And I know that's just how he is."  You knew that for a fact.

///

The next morning you'd woken to a silent house, and found the halls were still even upon your return from feeding the chickens. You shrugged into the kitchen, realized it was a little earlier than usual, and fixed yourself some decaf tea. When the kettle rang, the hallway creaked, and you cringed on your hurry to quiet things down again.

Roger appeared in the doorway, looking as if he was still trying to wake from a dream.

"Sorry if I woke you I-"

"It's okay, you're fine." Roger murmured, easing into the room, buttoning up his undone nightshirt.

"Fancy a cup? Mona should be here any minute, we usually start the day with tea." You explained, pouring your own drink and biting your lip.

"You wouldn't mind if I joined?" Roger asked, like you'd just invited him on some grand adventure.

"Course not." You chuckled, reaching for two more cups.

You and Roger were halfway through your tea before Mona showed up. You sat together in the sunroom, where you and your much older friend usually settled at the start of every weekend. Roger asked you'd had any dreams while you slept, and you prompted him to tell of any he might have conjured.  

When Mona showed up, she eased across the small table from you like always, but in place of gossip, she spoke mostly to Roger. She asked about his hobbies and he asked about her life. Roger loved getting to know people, you knew. He was always so genuinely interested in hearing what made everyone tick. When he asked Mona about her loves and losses, she'd spoke in a vulnerable way you'd never seen from her prior. Ah, of course. Roger had that way with people, like the second anyone locked eyes with his sea-blue pair, they were in trance.

And while Mona looked after Roger as he spoke, the blonde kept turning to you, asking for details of the week he couldn't quite recall, and begging you to tell a certain story he swore you had a better perspective of.

When the rest of the band showed up, they traded sweet good mornings with your guest just before pulling Roger out into the barn to pick up where they left off the day before last.

"Now what's all that about?" Mona wondered, pouring the two of you more tea, initiating a more personal one on one chat. You cast her a perplexed gaze as she settled across from you, uttering Roger's name like you should have already been thinking of it.

You knew then that Mona was curious about all the too long gazes and nervous chuckles Roger was reduced to during the quiet morning visit at your side.

"That's just how Roger is." You shrugged. "A bit of a flirt."

"Well, that's not how you are." Mona shot back with an arch of her brow. "I know you. And if you really believed he was just having a little fun you wouldn't let yourself look at him the way you've been looking at him all morning. He has the same look, too. You match."

Mona's point toward the obvious hit you like a ton of bricks. Though she was swift to move on to your usual gossip, you felt yourself floating around the same thoughts of Roger.

For the rest of the day, in fact, you struggled to accept the fact that you'd been falling for Roger. Of course, you had, everyone seemed to expect it, root for it. And Roger had the perfect pair of eyes that refused to look away from yours until you were a puddle under his gaze; ready and willing to be pieced back together by his questions about how, exactly you were made.

You took Pepper down the walking paths between ever-growing trees, and wandered between them, the long way back home. The whole time you figured there was no harm in giving in to the little advances Roger couldn't seem to stop giving. You didn't want to fall so deep your heart would shatter when you finally collided with something cold and unmoving. But you were stuck out here for another two weeks, and Roger's persistent presence was warmer than the sun.

///

The next couple of days, when you looked to Roger, your heart started up like an engine. You didn't like it one bit. You only planned to let his flirting entertain you. You couldn't become invested in it. You'd lodged yourself between wanting to spend every odd hour listening to him talk, and knowing you were better off to go about your day like usual, to save yourself the trouble.

So when Roger invited you to come and sit while the band showed off their mostly put together list of songs, you did. And when Roger sat next to you during every meal, you offered him a smile before tucking in. And when Roger woke up to share a cup of tea with you every other morning, you let him. And you liked it.

But when Roger leaned in too close, you turned your eyes to your lap, focusing on your nails digging into your palms so you couldn't feel his breath ghosting across your ear as he told a joke no one else could hear. And when Roger asked to join your walks with Pepper, you told him no, because you'd never been so alone with him before, and you couldn't let that happen now.

The week was full of conflicts between the imaginary angel and devil on either of your shoulders. You waded further from the waters of self-control, but dashed back with the tide when Rogers moonstruck gaze grew too pretty to handle.

By the end of the second week, you'd continued your normal lunches with Freddie, the occasional morning debate with Brian, and the promised game of cards with John, when everyone else went to bed.

You poured some drinks for the two of you and sat in silence while the game started up. But before too long, John eased into a conversation about how much he enjoyed your countryside getaway.

"We're all so glad you've let us come round, it's so nice to be here. Feels like home. Fred might be going a bit stir crazy but he loves it, don't let him fool you." John laughed, laying down a card. You chuckled too.

"And Bri is content out here, with all the stars." You pointed out. Every night, Brian made a show of pointing out all the things the naked eye could see when the sky started turning black.

"And somehow, Rog is happiest. Can you believe that?" John's smile remained lithe but you realized John had subtly achieved changing the subject entirely.

"No, not really." You offered an honest simper.

"He really does like you, y/n."

"Hm..."

You laid a final card down, lost the round, and stretched upright, grabbing both empty glasses to rest in the sink.

"Just because I'm the only girl around for him to attach himself to, doesn't mean he likes me." You shrugged from across the room. John stood to join you, curiously meeting your gaze, waiting to hear more of what you had to say.

"Roger just can't be alone. I'm not interested in being a placeholder." You reasoned.

"Then why haven't you told him so? You've let him follow you around like a puppy all since he got here." John pointed out unabashedly. But he wasn't wrong to wonder why you'd started giving into the small advances.

"Because I like him." You admitted with a frustrated sigh. "And all I have is the rest of this summer to pretend that I'm not just his only option. But I can't... I just can't let him break my heart. It already hurts bad enough knowing this'll all end in a week."

"I get where you're coming from..." John sighed, disgruntled. A silence weighed between the two of you, while you stood in place, mind racing too fast to focus on a single thought through the white noise.

"But, you know," John went on, raising his chin as if that would help make a clearer point. "Rog may be reckless. And he may get caught up in getting the things he wants, so much so that he'll make a bit of a mess on his mission. But when he really genuinely wants something, he gets it. And when he has it, he doesn't let it go."

"I'm a person, Deacy. Not a fucking stamp. I refuse to be collected with all the other pretty souvenirs to be left on a shelf." You spoke in a harsh, exhausted hiss. John hung his head, pursing his lips as if he'd been personally defeated. You spun to leave the room, but someone was blocking the doorway.

Roger was clutching the door frame, fingertips going white, eyes and mouth drooping pitifully. You barely looked his way as you brushed past, scurrying down the hall to take cover. And the whole time, Roger hurried after you, asking your name like a big scary question.

You managed to shut yourself in your room before the blonde rounded the corner and caught up with you. And when you heard his voice muffle past the closed door, a silly little sadness bubbled up in your throat.

You didn't want to shut him out, but you really believed you had to. A couple of frustrated tears escaped as you went on getting ready for bed, and as you tried to talk yourself down from all the mess of thoughts threatening to make you cry harder, everything turned to white noise as your eyes grew heavy.

///

When you awoke, it was as if everything that happened before you fell asleep was a fever dream. You crossed your fingers for that to have been the case and went to start your morning like every one before it.

But when you opened your door, all the dreaded feelings you'd gone to sleep with flooded back tenfold. You found Roger asleep, slumped against the wall outside your door. At his side, Pepper, comfily curled against the man with her head in his lap, asleep too. You huffed, creeping past him to do your job.

And as you hurry your practiced creep through the house and out of the door, you thought you'd made it to the porch steps without any trouble. But of course, when you reached the shed, you heard the door swing open and heavy footsteps bounding down the porch. Roger hurried toward you with wild red eyes.

"Roger I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression. I guess I just got used to being around you." You let out a breath that sounded like a laugh as you grabbed your bucket of feed, and kept walking.

"Do you really feel that way?" Roger asked, voice rattling in a pitch you'd never heard him use.

"Does it matter?" You shrugged, approaching the coop.

"Do you really think I'm not mad about you? Do you really think I'm just going to go back to the city and shag the first lass I see? I want you, y/n. Isn't it dead obvious?"

"Roger!" You spun to face him, your tone starling a couple of chickens, and the blonde, who flinched away from a bird who flapped too close. "Don't do this to me!" You threatened.

If you could see up the hill you would know your voices traveled far enough to alarm John, Brian, and Freddie who were sharing tea next to the open kitchen windows. They couldn't make out what you were saying, but they could tell this wasn't going to be a morning like any other. They'd been watching things between you and Roger morph past friendly acquaintance, and they realized this must have been the breaking point. Things were boiling over, but where would they fall?

"It's worse to think you might actually be a little interested in me."

"I want to be with you y/n! Why is that bad?" Roger pointed desperately trying to make himself clear.

"For now, you might!" You shouted back. That stopped him in his tracks.

"But I want a forever, Roger. And you can't even get through breakfast without changing your plans. You can't even sign an autograph for one groupie without letting your eyes linger to meet someone else's! They might be okay with it. And if you are too, fine! But it would just break my heart."

You slammed the bucket of feed on the ground, birds hurrying toward the meal. Roger looked as though the wind had been knocked out of him. You hated it. But you had to stand your ground. It was going to hurt eventually anyway.

"Then what does it say about me that I still want you? Even if you think I'm so horrid?" Roger winced.

"I don't think you're horrid, I think you're amazing!" You shouted back with a wild gesture.

"That's the whole bloody problem!"  Wasn't it obvious? "I'll want you forever, even when you don't want me anymore!" You admitted, only realizing the weight of your statement after your words hung in the air, your heart cracking in its mold.

"What do I need to do?" Roger asked in a panic, stepping closer to you. "How can I prove that you're the only one for me? For now, and for always. Tell me what you want and I'll do anything I fucking swear." Roger's voice was thick and frantic, but you'd heard him sing and forget what he'd been wailing about the morning after.

"You don't mean that!" You cried, moving away. You heard all the times he planned one date with someone else while he toted a different girl on his arm. You didn't think it was a problem, not if that's what everyone was looking for. But you weren't that girl. You couldn't wait on the sidelines and be glad you got a kiss at the end of the day. And you couldn't expect Roger to play the part you wanted if that wasn't really him. You just didn't fit together. No matter how badly you wished you did.

So you picked up your bucket and turned to stomp up the hill.

"Y/n!" Roger plead, watching your storm away. He stood debating on letting you have a bit of space. But, he'd done enough of that. He needed to prove himself now.

You stormed inside, casually so. You'd planned to ignore the rest of the boys who still stood about the kitchen, and head straight for your room. But you hadn't out run Rogers hurry to stop you. He bolted through the entry just as you reached the doorway to the hall.

"Y/n wait," Roger begged, instead of demanded. His dejected tone was what forced your feet to stall before they reached the corner. The boys fell silent from across the room while you fixated your stare at the wall, afraid if you met anyone eye, you'd burst into tears.

"Please." Roger croaked. The room was silent. And when you slowly turned to face him, Roger was struggling to hold back tears, pools brimming in his impossibly big eyes. Everyone around seemed to hold their breath, waiting for you to say something.

After what felt like forever, Freddie ushered his two remaining bandmates out the back door while you and Roger stood, deadlocked.

You sighed, shook your head, grabbed Roger by the wrist, and pulled him toward the living room. You released him from your grasp near the sofa, where Roger slowly sat, gapping your way.

"I don't want to fight with you, Roger." You sighed after a while of staring out the window, searching for just what to say.

"I'm fighting for you, y/n. I've never wanted anything more."

"But Rog..." You implored softly. But when you turned and looked at his watery eyes, you'd forgotten what point you were busy making.

He sucked in a breath bracing for you to keep at it, but you slumped, sitting next to him sorrily. You moved both of your hands to Roger's face, and brushed your thumbs under each of his eyes, wiping away the traces of tears that happened to overflow.

"Everything is different with you. I understand just saying so isn't good enough. Give me a chance to prove it?" Roger asked in a hush, looking in your eyes his fingers slowly wrapped around your wrists. The drummer slid off the side of the couch, tangled his fingers with yours, and looked up to you from his knees, one final silent plea.

Your heart was too conflicted, too quick to cower behind the wall you'd build up. So you just gave Roger a pathetic nod, because you knew you couldn't say no.

"I'm sorry I upset you." You spoke, glancing at the way Roger's hands clutched yours, still. With that, the blonde let out a sigh and rested his head in your lap, accepting the conclusion.

You lost your fingers in his strands of hair,  accepting his display of affection, or whatever it might have been. All you knew was that you'd never felt more content and confused at the same time.

The pair of you stayed like that for a while, in shared silence. It was broken when Freddie's voice echoed through the back door. He called both of your names, and then Rogers once more. The band didn't have much more time to waste.

When Roger lifted his head from your lap, you stopped him from standing to brush his hair back into place. The two of you shared the smallest laugh, the tiniest expressions that made you believe you were on the same page. Then you walked toward the sound of Freddie's timbre, side by side.

The singer was wringing his hands in the garden doorway, casting Roger a concerned expression as the two of you approached. The blonde nodded toward Freddie as he walked outdoors and sauntered toward the barn, stretching his arms. But Freddie stalled in the doorway, turning to you once Roger was a few paces off.

"We'll figure it out, I promise." You told Freddie, before he could even ask. You knew he only stopped you to wonder what just happened. The only thing was that you weren't entirely too sure.  "We'll be alright. And you can finish your record. I'm sorry-"

Freddie raised his hand ceasing your statement. Then he looped an arm through yours and insisted you come and listen to Queen's newly perfected masterpiece that still didn't have a name.

///

The last week you continued to share most mornings with Brian, and every lunch with Freddie. You still beat John at the same old card game. But each day you spent near Roger, was different.

The silence you shared held a new weight, a ticking time bomb. The conversations you traded were gentler, but shifted around familiar topics. There was nothing you and Roger were afraid to discuss, well, everything except one thing. And when the subject of your feelings for each other threatened to come up, you and Roger shared a glance in place of any discussion.

He followed you out to the forest with Pepper, throwing sticks she'd chase after but fail to bring back. Roger sat by you at every meal, looking to you first for every open-ended question that popped up through your friend's chatter.

And during the last night of the band's stay, after they spent the morning loading up their instruments into their van, you planned a big evening in. Setting out movies and snacks and all the proper essentials for any good party.

Otto came over, with a plate of desserts and some seeds for Brian to plant. Mona stayed an extra night, exchanging recipes with John, and sharing a long chat with Freddie and Roger in the sun room. When everyone gathered to watch a film or two, most of the boys fell asleep before the second film started. Besides you and Mona, Otto was the last man standing as the credits rolled.

When Mona lifted her frame for a big comfy claw-footed chair, she brushed past you with a wink on her way to bed. Roger had fallen asleep at your side long ago. with his head on your shoulder. You gave your old friend a pursed grin, before closing your eyes and leaning into the drummer's warmth. If whatever happened between you and Roger was only meant to last for a month, this was your last chance to enjoy it. You'd already fallen. Why not give in for a second or two?

The next morning, you awoke to find you'd switched places. Your head was comfortably perched on Roger's shoulder, his body turned toward yours as if he was inviting in the comfort. You blinked to the band still passed out around the living room. But Roger was awake, and already waiting to meet your gaze.

You could tell when your eyes met then, that it was one of those moments with a dozen outcomes. Whatever either of you said or did next felt detrimental. So you stuck to what you knew, and asked Roger if he'd like one last cup of tea. He said yes.

Eventually, the boys started dragging their suitcases to the front porch, blabbering about the sunshine and the city they were headed back to. You passed around hugs, sending each boy to their ride one by one. They all thanked you in their own silly little way, all of them groggy and reluctant to leave the quiet.

When the van pulled out of the driveway, you couldn't tell if Roger was looking back or not. You bit back tears as your friends drove off, and for the first summer ever, you feel stuck in Surrey.

///

The next time you saw Queen was on stage.

You'd made it back home to the city just in time to change and race to see your friends play. Because even though you'd had the pleasure of hearing the echoes of their endless rehearsal for weeks on end, you still weren't sick of the sound. They were set up in a small club, getting back into the swing of putting on a show for more than a wandering chicken and or two.

A usual cast of friends, groupies, and followers were scattered about the crowd. You knew some of them, and a few introduced you to faces you'd never seen before then. But when Queen took the stage, the audience ceased their chatter to join in giving the band a warm welcome.

They needed no introduction. Their instruments caught fire and melded together in perfect timing, in alarming harmony. You watched on in wonder, each member using their talent to the band's advantage, showing off in each other's favor. You'd never tire of marveling over their music.

After a setlist full of head-spinning tunes, the crowd thinned out respectively. Fans meandered out front, planning to linger near the band's parked van. Friends drifted toward the stage while the boys tore down their set, shooting winks and nods toward the groupies who slipped backstage. That left you eyeing a side exit, planning your route home, wondering if you had time to stop for a bite to eat on the way home.

But your mission toward the exit was hindered when someone yanked you backward by your shirt sleeve.

"You're not leaving." Brian declared, pulling you along, past the stage, where Freddie spun, blowing you a kiss. Brian pulled you backstage, down a couple of dank halls lined with girls and guys waiting to get their hands on one of Queen.

Brian dumped you off in the doorway of the green room, you supposed. The space offered a sofa, a mirror, and a table full of half-consumed liquor bottles. And all alone stood Roger Taylor. He appeared to have changed shirts, and was screwing the lid back on to a bottle of water when he looked up and noticed you.

If you thought Rogers eyes were bright, his smile upon seeing you was blinding.

"You came! I thought you'd be sick of us by now." Roger chuckled, opening his arms as he approached to wrap you in a hug.

"I swear you get better every time." You laughed, hugging him back, surprisingly relieved and relaxed in his arms. When Roger let go of you, he searched your face as you stood, failing to hide your blush.

"You came." He smiled again, as if he was just now really realizing you were here.

"Of course I did, Rog."

With that, he grabbed your hand like he'd done it more than once. Roger pulled you alongside him, greeting every odd familiar face in the halls. Some knew your name, others learned it when Roger introduced you in passing. He led you right to the stage, where he went to take his drums apart. Freddie cornered you to spill what seemed like every thought he had since last you'd seen each other. John even circled back around to offer you a goodbye on his hurry home for the evening.

Then, the rest of the weekend went almost just like that. You stood and watched your friends warm-up the same stage in preparation to tour later on. And when the shows ended, you waited around to make sure you told each boy hello, or goodbye.

Roger seemed to wait up for you. He never sought you out, never hurried off stage to cling to your side. He simply waited near the bar or in the green room, where you found him kicking his feet until he saw you. Then, he'd dare to cling to you. To grab your hand, or lean his shoulder against yours while you both listened to some stranger tell a long boring story.

Rogered waited up for you, and that's how you knew. At the end of the weekend, you went home feeling utterly incomplete. Thoughts of Roger used to hurt your head and heart, but the ache you felt at the thought of the blonde was much different now. You were only torturing yourself, really. It was time to give in.

You told yourself that whatever happened next, was exactly what was meant to happen. On your drive to Rogers flat, you made yourself accept your fate in advance, no matter what it might have been.

On your march up the complex stairs, you figured you didn't have much to lose.

You knocked, bolts of nerves surging through each time your knuckles met the door. When it opened, Roger seemed genuinely surprised to see you.

"Oh hey," He uttered, moving back to let you in. You glanced past Roger's shoulders as you stepped inside the space he shared with Brian, though the guitarist was usually staying with his soon to be wife in the little apartment they'd started slowly moving into.

"I thought Bri left for the evening. But I suppose if you're expecting him he'll be back any minute..." Roger reasoned, shutting the door and shuffling a safe distance away from where you'd planted your feet in the kitchen.

"I'm here to see you, Roger." You bit back a grin.

"Me? I-" His saucer eyes were innocently confused. He was clad in an old sweatshirt and his hair was still a little damp from a shower at the end of a long night. Before he had time to finish asking what you were doing here, you closed the space between the two of you.

You placed a hand on Roger's jaw and kissed him in the blink of an eye. His lips were warm and soft, and even more perfect than you imagined them to be. He stalled for a moment, but when you showed no signs of pulling away, Roger gave in. He snaked an arm around your middle and kissed you back in the manor a soldier coming home from war might have. Your lips moved together for what seemed like forever, you hoped it was.

"I'm sorry I never did that sooner." You breathed after your kisses died down. Roger kept his arm around you, holding you close against his form.

"Better late than never, right?" Roger mused, curling his lip into a grin as his eyes searched yours. This was what you wanted, no questions asked. It was time to give in.

"If you want forever, I'd love to share that with you." You nodded in a whisper, holding your breath during the nanosecond it took Roger to agree.

"I want everything with you." Roger laughed a little like he shouldn't have had to state the obvious, but was glad to all the same. You let out a small laugh too, more like a sigh of relief, though. You hadn't expected to end up in the situation, but as the summer crept into autumn, you couldn't imagine your world with Roger.

///

Thursdays were still reserved for you and Freddie to share your usual order at the coffee shop. And John still sometimes joined in to share a joke or a wise old sentiment in between your gossip. You still saw Brian at every odd dinner, game night, and gig; where you rambled and argued about the workings of the universe. And in between it all, Roger was always at the back of the stage and at the end of every day, always looking to you. You rocketed into sharing beds, and breakfasts and shopping trips together. You and Roger were never too far apart.

As autumn turned to winter, you went on the hunt for another internship and found something better; a job. It was only then you realized how glad you were to have missed out on that very first opportunity. How lucky you got when everything was canceled and you were propelled into the forest with your favorite band. That must have been how things were always meant to happen. Because the production you signed on to now caused stars to form in your eyes. It was a position even dreamier than you ever hoped to score, but something that wasn't meant to start until the beginning of the next year.

So when Queen released their record and started morphing from hometown heroes to actual superstars, they each begged you to join the tour meant to promote their new music. And you didn't have a single reason to decline.

You tagged along for a couple of weeks, snapping photos of the boys on the plane, in front of shop windows, and on each new stage they took by storm.

And as the days you'd booked to ride along dwindled away, as fate threatened to keep you apart longer than you'd like to have ever been, you just kept planning for your future.

"Let's get a dog." Roger piped up one night, as he slipped into a cozy hotel bed beside you.

"What if he gets lonely? If we get one we'd have to get another." You countered, snuggling close. Roger hummed in agreeance, while you settled against him for the last night you'd get the chance to for months in a row.

"One day we'll have all the dogs we want." Roger sighed, the softness of his tone and the rattle of his chest under your ear was just as good as any of the other music he made. "A whole farm."

"Even a chicken coop?" You teased in a falsely hopeful manner, assuming he'd shiver at the thought.

"Whatever you want." You felt Roger shrug. You lifted your head to meet his eyes, waiting for the catch, because you knew he couldn't possibly care for you so much to bend at the will of all of your silly little suggestions.

"I love you. I want everything with you. Even chicken coop." Roger spoke in a hush, reaching his long fingers to brush your cheek. You stared at him in awe, completely submerged in appreciation for Roger, and this moment you shared.

"You'll have to feed them though," Roger spoke as you searched his features. With that, you both laughed until you fell asleep, together.

When morning came, you hoped packing your bags at a slow pace would stall time, in a magic moment. But in the blink of an eye, you were rushing to catch a cab, glancing over your shoulder to find Roger watching you go.

It was hard to settle back home in the quiet rainy city without the boys to keep you company, to keep you on your toes. But you settled into your dream job, finally fulfilled with all the hard work you spent getting to the place you landed in. You worked, and dreamed of Roger, and pinched yourself every time you realized just how lucky you were.

You and Roger were further apart than ever before, even when you hadn't attached at the hip. But he called, and sent letters, and promised he'd see you soon. And you answered and wrote back and promised you were counting down the days.

When he finally came home to you after months away he bound your way with arms outstretched. Roger lifted you from the ground, spinning around with ease, pleading for you to come on the next tour, and the one after that if there was one. And you knew Roger was yours, that your days were better spent dreaming together. You knew you'd be alright.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[oftenderweapons]

Introducing: the girlfriends — Lace

Hello cherry blossoms!

Since the girlfriends will feature as original characters in some of the pieces I’ve planned, in this small serie you will find some general information about the girls, presented with their aesthetics. Here you will find Taehyung’s Lace. She will also be featured, together with Princess, in the next piece so I think this introduction will help you get acquainted with her as a character.

NSFW material included. Read at your own risk.

Here you can find my masterlist :)

Enjoy!!!

Lace is a lady through and through. She is tough and elegant, apparently cold but extremely affectionate with those she loves. She is close friends with Vixen. During her university years, she was Princess’ flatmate, even though they got out of touch because of Princess moving out of the neighbourhood and both of them getting really busy with their jobs.

Just like Princess, Lace too works in the fashion industry, more precisely she is a shop assistant — soon shop manager — in a store of an extremely famous and expensive brand of lingerie. She is also a skilled tailor and has her own lab where she makes customised lingerie: she dreams of it becoming her main occupation someday. She is maybe the same age as Taehyung or a couple years older.

In terms of physical appearance, she is curvy and quite “fleshy” — imagine a diva from the Sixties like Liz Taylor or Sophia Loren. She perfectly knows how to wear her curves, chinching her waist and pushing up her breasts in tailored corsets and bustiers, however she is often dressed up in pretty and elegant vintage style, complimenting her sinful physique in classy and modest outfits. She most definitely has love handles and round, soft hips: her body is the definition of femininity and she struts in it like a model. Her confidence is what makes her look so sexy, even if society might not approve of her body.

Taehyung has a very soft spot for her body; he loves the feel of her under his fingers, gripping her flesh. He loves the texture, consistency and the concrete materiality of her, her body making her look like a diva (and totally his wet dream) but also feeling so real and carnal.

Lace and Taehyung are basically a real life example of Gomez and Morticia Addams. They’re passionately, foolishly, sinfully in love with each other. He worships her like a goddess and follows her with heart eyes like a tail-wagging puppy. Lace might look like a cold minx, but behind closed doors she literally adores him, in every possible way.

Taehyung fell for her with a coup de foudre — as if struck by a lightning — literally love at first sight. Lace was more wary about her crush: she takes it easy because she is awfully afraid of the intensity with which Teahyung entered her mind and her soul, and she hopes that such power is not a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing.

Their dates include mostly art galleries and parks, but also old movie marathons, which she watches for fashion inspiration and for their dreamy romance. During said marathons, they lay side by side, with Taehyung’s hand toying with her hair, and Lace’s nails gently scraping against his nape. Sometimes they watch a film they have already seen so that they can make out without missing out on anything. Expect romantic getaways. Lots of them. Taehyung loves big European cities such as Paris, London, Amsterdam and Prague, and Lace likes following him whenever she can, enjoying a few days of art and food and steamy romance.

They are not afraid of being affectionate in public: at the beginning she is a bit shy and cold, but as she gets used to continuous public exposure, she grows more comfortable and daring, indulging Taehyung in his very public gestures of affection. He often places his arm around her waist, leaning down to whisper things in her ear, exchanging flirty smiles with her and comfortably placing a kiss on her lips every now and then, though I think they leave more thorough tongue tango for the bedroom. Yes, they are king and queen of making out, and if they’re tipsy enough, they would most definitely do that in front of friends and acquaintances, not really caring about by-standers.

Taehyung is her little cuddlebug, hugging her and rubbing his face against her chest whenever he comes home after a bad day. He likes it when she scrapes his scalp gently, as if petting a cat, and when she tuts at him because he’s tickling her with his hair. Her affection is often very sensual, with nails drawing patterns on his naked skin, always trying to get beneath his clothes, where she can feel his warmth and the goosebumps she causes with her touch. On the other hand, Taehyung can be extremely playful and innocent in his affection, drawing every feature on Lace’s face with his fingers, kissing her head and rubbing his face against her chest and neck to feel her skin against his lips and the peculiar scent of her perfume. He gifts her a lot of presents, from small inexpensive ones to extremely costly items — yes, you can guess what they are.

Lace is Taehyung’s girlfriend and lover — she perfectly embodies the duality of a refined, confident lady, and the kinkiest freak in the sheets — giving him the love and support of a relationship and the sinful desire of an affair.

She is a domme. During her university years she went through hard times which brought her closer to the BDSM culture. Through learning dominance and discipline in fields like bondage and sadomasochism, she gained strength, maturity, self-esteem and confidence. Her aplomb and savoir faire attract Taehyung immensely, and he gladly lets her take control every now and then; however since their very first encounter, Lace felt something change within her when she was around him, and her sudden willingness to yield to Taehyung made her realise that he was a man she’d gladly be submissive and sell her soul for. Even though there’s not much power imbalance between them, they do partake in extremely daring practices, involving principally sensation play and various forms of bondage, but occasionally also impact play. They experiment with several varieties of sensations, from temperature, to tickling, to pinching and grazing. Their tactile dimension is very strong, and both like focusing on touch during foreplay and intercourse, which often leads to blindfolds or making love in a completely dark room. On the other hand, they both enjoy watching and being seen, in a magnificent combination of voyeurism and exhibitionism. It isn’t rare for them to sit at the opposites end of the bed and masturbate in front of each other. Their "blind" sensorial explorations and their openness have removed shame from their relationship — Taehyung's extremely thorough perlustrarion of Lace's sensitive body allow him to play her like an instrument with sage, talented fingers.

Lace likes showing her submission through blowjobs, especially with Taehyung standing on his feet while she’s kneeling before him. Taehyung likes tormenting her with long edging sessions before making her come undone round after round, with his fingers, mouth and cock. He especially enjoys wrecking her, using her toys to stretch her out, but also making her cum before he enters her, enjoying her tightness after an orgasm. He experiments without prejudice, sometimes improvising extravagant tricks to turn her on in some genial way. He is ruthless, but also fully and recklessly devoted to Lace’s pleasure, his only goal seeing her spent and naked on his sheets, possibly with his length still sheathed inside her. No matter how harsh or soft the scene, their ultimate goal is the sense of unity they feel once they’re done and ready for a nap or for sleep. Napping while cockwarming is a must: they won’t stop until they’re completely spent and once they've finished, they simply lay there, looking at each other, exchanging small kisses and feeling like one single soul without a body.

Taehyung sleeps thrown all over Lace and although at the beginning she’s not entirely comfortable, especially since he’s a furnace in his sleep, after a while she gets used to having him cuddled into her side, pushing his face into her neck and hair while his arm and leg are wrapped around her middle and her hip. And for the problem of being too hot, well... She just forgoes clothes. Which is extremely useful when he wants to wake her up with his mouth around hr nipple. Or between her legs.

In conclusion, Lace and Taehyung are a very passionate, vey intense young couple, whose relationship is based on an attraction that goes beyond looks and digs deep into the very essence of their character, reaching an almost religious devotion and sacred adoration. Taehyung is charmed by Lace’s magnetism and composure, while Lace is deeply enthralled by Taehyung’s consistent and reliable admiration for her. A satisfying sex life is perfectly matched with the quiet way they show each other support, but most importantly by the way Taehyung’s introspection and artistry plunge into Lace’s sensitivity, showing her a level of understanding she has never felt before. They’re both highly sensitive to the other’s emotion and this spiritual connection, put together with the physical one, offers them a sense of unity that makes them comfortable and completely open to each other.

[pinknerdpanda]

Reunited

Word Count: 3,530

Characters: Sam x Reader

Warnings: ANGST, fluff, a curse word or two...i mean, it IS me.

A/N: This is my (extremely late) entry for @atc74​’s Duets Reboot Challenge. Sorry I didn’t get it done sooner babes! Thanks for your patience! My prompt was the song “I Knew You Were Waiting” by George Michael and Aretha Franklin and I used some of the lyrics below. They are bolded. This is also the first in a long time that I have written Sam Winchester and I realized how much I missed him. This takes place between seasons 7 and 8 in a world where the awful Amelia didn’t exist. Flashback is in italics.

Beta’d by @shy-violet-soul​ and my twinny @hannahindie​ I love you dearly. Thank you for supporting me and reading my words and loving me.

gif not mine - x

Reunited

Sam Winchester knew the taste of victory; tangy and bittersweet, and somehow a bit stale. He’d fought and won so many battles he’s lost count, and even in the darkest of times, savored the flavor on his tongue like a memory. But this was not victory. This was agony.

He’d seen Dean die many times - a fact that still perplexed him after all these years. It was always the same; excruciatingly painful to watch and powerless to stop it. But even as Dean’s last breath drained from his lungs, Sam had hope. Hope that if there was something he could do - some spell or deal or alliance - Dean could come back to life again.  But Dean hadn’t died - at least not that he could prove. It was like he vanished into thin air. Nothing Sam had encountered up to that point could have prepared him for the realization that he was well and truly alone. 

Dean was gone. 

Leviathans, Dick Roman, Crowley, Cas’ betrayal; he could have handled it all and dealt with the fallout after the dust had settled as long as Dean was by his side. But he wasn’t and Sam couldn't. 

Sam felt hollow, a battered and crumbling shell of the man he’d once been. He found himself lurking in the darkness, consumed by the shadows of his old life. What the hell was he supposed to do? Go after him? All well and good if he’d had the slightest idea of where Dean had gone. Or was he supposed to continue the work his father started all those years ago? Dean or no Dean, the monsters remained. And as far as he could tell, no matter what he did - how much he sacrificed himself and his body - the monsters would always be there. So why should he try?

And so Sam stopped, allowing the numbness to overtake him instead. He was numb in a way that brought on thoughts of frigid winter evenings and toes nearly frostbitten. Numb in a way that was so much the opposite of the humid evening air that hung heavy around him. Sweat beaded against his hairline, dampened his undershirt and collected in places he’d rather not think too hard about. But the breathtaking summer heat did nothing to thaw the frozen rock inside his chest.

Long hours of aimless driving brought him to this town and when the familiarity settled on him, Sam frowned. Out of all the places in all the world how had he ended up here? There was a reason he’d planned to keep this place in the rearview mirror, but apparently his subconscious had disagreed.

Nothing had changed much in his years since high school. The same aged brick buildings loomed hauntingly around him as his feet carried him down what has once been a well-worn path. Ancient street lamps flickered helplessly above, their lights providing the bare minimum of defense against the darkness of night. 

Looking up, Sam checked his bearings as he brushed the sweat from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. If he remembered correctly - and if nothing had changed - Sam should be coming up on the shop that…

Sam’s internal monologue came to grinding halt as his eyes roamed over the figure in the window ahead of him. Surely not. It was his mind playing another in a long line of cruel jokes on him; it must be. How else could he explain the sight of her...here? 

She hadn't changed much that Sam could tell from this distance. Her hair was a little longer, but still the same shade of deep violet she had ways loved. Gauging from the fringed, lace duster, leggings, and boots, her affinity for black clothing hadn't changed either. A man approached her and Sam watched in awe as a smile bloomed on her lips; the very same one he'd fallen head over heels for long ago.

It was like the last 18 years were nothing more than a breath behind him. 

Before he realized it, Sam found his long legs had carried him closer to the shop; to her. His breath hitched and his heart jumped as he opened the door. 

Her lilting laugh sent chills down his spine, but the abrupt silence that followed made his hands shake. Her eyes nearly bulged from her skull and her dark purple lips parted on a bewildered gasp. The look shared between them seemed to linger for hours, both frozen in place as memories danced behind their eyes.

The man she’d been speaking with before cleared his throat and ducked his head. The sound shook Sam out of his haze enough to register the need to move from in front of the door so the man could pass. The bell tinkled as he exited, leaving them alone in a room thick with unspent tension.

“Sam,” she breathed. “Is that really you?”

Sam nodded, mesmerized by the way his name still sounded like velvet on her tongue. 

Hesitant steps brought her around the counter and mere feet from him. Chipped black nails dug into the skin of her palms as she clenched her fists and released. 

Sam smiled. He’d seen her face a million times in his head over their years apart, but time had slowly eroded the image he’d retained. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that his own memories had betrayed him, leaving him only a poor substitute of the exquisite beauty she was.

His heart thrumming erratically, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her before he could even process his own actions. She hummed, her own arms snaking around his waist and her face pressed against his chest. Sam’s head dropped, his nose pressed into her hair and he inhaled. 

Something inside him shifted then. Weeks spent hanging on by a thread, barely able to hold himself together enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other; pain, anger, hopelessness, exhaustion, fear - it all came crashing down on him in that moment. She held him as uncontrollable sobs shook his massive frame, her palms kneading soothing patterns against his back and soft, comforting words fell from her lips in a whisper.

Only once the tears stopped and his breathing returned to something resembling a normal cadence did he pull back. She smiled up at him with sad eyes for a moment before she untangled her fingers from the fabric of his shirt. Sam watched as she moved behind him, locking the door and flipping the “open” sign. When she finished, she grabbed his hand and he let her drag her through the shop and into the back room.

The room wasn’t large, but it fit a desk, couch, small fridge and some filing cabinets. She motioned for him to take a seat before grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge and the box of tissues from the desk. She sat next to Sam, handing him a water and placing the tissues between them.

He chuckled, the sound watery to his own ears, and thanked her.

Silence lingered, but not in an uncomfortable way. Despite having not seen each other in nearly two decades, Sam found himself at ease with her as he’d once been. He felt safe.

“What brought you to town, Sam?” 

Long fingers played along the lid of his water as Sam huffed a laugh.

“I’m, uh,” he pursed his lips, eyes trained on the bottle in his hands. “I’m not exactly sure, to be honest. I just kind of started driving and ended up here.”

She hummed and Sam chanced a look at her. Her brows were drawn in up consideration and she chewed absently on her lower lip.

“Not that I’m complaining,” she mused, not looking at him. “But of all the places you could have wound up, you sure picked a pretty crap town.”

Sam laughed, the sound much closer to sincere than it had been in weeks.

“I don’t know, y/n. It’s not so bad.” He met her gaze. “Some of my favorite memories are in this place.”

Y/n smiled as she ducked her head. 

“What about you? I thought you were gettin’ the hell outta Dodge as soon as graduation was over?” Sam’s voice held a hint of teasing in his genuinely curious words.

Sighing, y/n sat back and tipped her head toward the ceiling. Sam wondered if it was the question in general that made her uncomfortable or the fact that it reminded her of the promise he’d broken. 

“I tried. Left for a while, but you know what they say. There’s no place like home.” Rolling her head toward him, she shrugged.

“That is what they say,” Sam echoed hollowly. He was in no position to empathize, having had no real home of his own. But he tried. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh don’t be, Sam.” She laughed, sitting back up and tucking a foot under her thigh. “I’m happy, for the most part.”

Sam nodded, unsure how to respond, but needing to address the guilt weighing heavy in his mind.

“Y/n, what happened...back then...I wish...” Sam began, but she waved him off. 

“Water under the bridge.” Her smile was relaxed and warm.

“No,” Sam shook his head, his eyes scanning the carpet fibers as though his thoughts were written there. “No, you deserved so much more. I never would have stood you up at prom, if I’d had a choice. I was furious with my dad for moving us that night. I begged him to let us stay one more night, or at least call you and explain, but there was nothing I could do. My family has always been a little...uh...nomadic. We never stayed in one place for too long, but it was my senior year, and Dad said it would be different…”  Sam shoved his fingers through his dark hair roughly.

“I know, Sam.”

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Not really.”

Y/n placed a hand on his forearm, drawing his attention to her. “I’m really sorry about your brother, Sam.”

Sam froze. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Your brother? Dean?” 

Sam nodded slowly. “Uh-huh. And?”

Narrowing her gaze, y/n bit her lip, thoughtfully. “Did you happen to notice anything different about the store when you came in?”

“Am I having a stroke or something?” Sam stared at her, his face scrunched and his eyes wide. “What does the store have to do with Dean? And what does Dean have to do with prom?”

Y/n shook her head, chuckling lightly. She stood up, hand outstretched toward Sam. He looked between her offered palm and the amused expression on her lips. 

“Come on, I want to show you something.” Y/n smiled, tipping her head toward the door.

Sam took her hand and was surprised to find her actually succeeding in bringing him to his feet. He shot her a wry grin and she shrugged.

“I’m stronger than I look, Sam.” Winking at him, she pulled him back into the empty store. 

He had been so intently focused on seeing y/n that evening that he really hadn’t paid any mind to the interior. Looking around now, however, he realized how much things truly had changed.

“When my dad started this shop, it was a simple used book store.”

"Yeah, it's where we met," Sam blushed.

Glancing around, he spotted a familiar brown chair and the memory of that day came flooding back.

"It is." Y/n smiled.

Sam saw the flicker of something in her eyes and he guessed she was reliving the moment in her own head as much as he was.

The first day in a new school was never easy and Sam found himself seeking the comfort in the form of paper and ink and the musty smells of adventures waiting to be had. He’d seen the bookstore on his way to school that morning, and he had a sneaking suspicion it was just the place he was needing.

The overhead bell tinkled as he walked in. The sheer number of books crammed into every inch of the shelves lining the walls was incredible. It would take him ages just to find a book in this place, and Sam couldn’t have been more excited about the prospect. 

He quietly surveyed the shelves, trying to decide the best place to start his quest when his gaze fell on her.

She looked so serene with her nose buried in the yellowed pages of a worn paperback and legs sprawled sideways across an enormous, overstuffed brown chair. Sam recognized her from school earlier in the day; the shimmering violet hue of her hair, brilliant even in the dim lights of the store, was enough for her to stand out, but it was her eyes - wide and full of mischief and wonder - that he’d been drawn to first. 

His first instinct was to turn around and pretend he had never been there. But before he could, those same wide eyes found his and he froze.

“Hey! You’re the new guy, right?” Her inky black lips drew up in a heart-stopping smile. "I saw you at school earlier. I think we have a class together."

Clearing his throat once, and again for good measure, he introduced himself.

“My name’s Sam,” he grimaced at the way his voice cracked slightly around the single syllable of his name. “Sam Winchester.”

“Nice to meet ya, Sam! I’m y/n.” 

Y/n snapped her book closed and stood, tossing it in the now vacant seat. 

“Can I help you find something? First book’s on the house,” she winked at him.

Sam opened his mouth, intending to refuse the offer when a stocky, mustached man appeared in the doorway behind the counter. The man nodded at Sam before turning his attention to y/n, a gentle chiding expression washing over his face.

“Sweet pea, you’ve gotta quit saying that,” he tsked softly. “We can’t sell any books if you give them all away!”

Y/n’s face scrunched up in guilt, but Sam noticed the playful glint in her eyes that seemed to contradict her expression.

“Sorry, Daddy. Last time, I promise.” 

Sam stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to...I was gonna pay for…”

The man waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it, son. Y/n’s just got a big heart and I can’t exactly fault her for that,” he huffed a laugh and shook his head lovingly. “Just like her mother.”

Y/n cleared her throat and shook her head, a smile playing at her lips.

"Anyway, a few years back, before he passed, some folks came in asking about these strange texts. Dad was never one to pass up the chance to learn something new, so he researched it a bit. It took some time, but he was able to track down a copy for them.

“A week later, a husband and wife came in saying someone had told them we might be able to help them. Jump forward six months and our little used book shop had become a hunter’s library and spell apothecary. Need a hard to come-by text? Missing that one ingredient for a binding spell? Look no further.”

Sam’s jaw went slack as she spoke, his hazel eyes growing wider and wider. Looking around now, it all made sense. Tall shelves still lined the walls, but rather than tattered paperbacks and crumbling spines, the shelves held large, leather bound books, document boxes and an assortment of glass jars lined up neatly. The space above the door was littered with faint, though recognizable protection sigils and, looking closer, he found the window sills lined with salt.  Y/n gave his arm a gentle squeeze and continued.

“Imagine my surprise when I overhear a few people talking about Sam and Dean Winchester, the men the angels and demons fear,” she shrugged. “I asked around and heard all about your harrowing adventures. Starting the apocalypse, stopping the apocalypse, dying...like a lot. I kind of made it a habit to check up on you from time to time. It was strange because some days I felt just as close to you as we were in high school and others...it felt like there was this insurmountable mountain between us. Sounds kinda creepy saying it out loud, really. I can’t really explain it, but I always had this feeling that I’d see you again.”

Sam blinked, his mind desperately trying to make sense of what she’d just told him. Somehow y/n knew; about hunting, monsters, him. She knew. And at that realization Sam felt the tightness in his chest ease ever so slightly, the frost that encased his heart slowly ebbing away.

“So, all of that to say...I am really sorry about what happened to your brother.” Her brow furrowed as she met his gaze. “That Dick Roman was really aptly named, wasn’t he?”

Despite the confusion and the pain and the sheer absurdity of the whole situation, Sam laughed. Not the sad, pitiful sound he’d grown accustomed to making. No, Sam laughed. The sound rumbled through his chest and forced the dimple in his cheek to show. A small rush of warmth flooded his chest as he sucked in a breath, dabbing at the corners of his eyes.

“So you know, then? You know everything?” Sam eyed her.

“I mean obviously I don’t know everything, but thank you for assuming it’s possible that I could.” She nudged his shoulder playfully and grinned. “You flatter me, Sam Winchester.”

Sam shook his head, the gears in his brain still trying to click into place. “I can’t believe this. Any of it. I never thought I’d see you again, but now I’m here and you’re...I don’t have to make excuses or lie. You understand.” Sam frowns. “I wish I had known sooner. I have thought about you so many damn times over the years. I wanted to look you up, but I didn’t want to drag you into any of this. I wish I could go back to that day...”

Y/n stopped him.

“Listen. I don’t regret a single moment. Sure I can look back and see all those disappointments; prom, graduation. Any more, I just laugh. If any one thing had gone differently - if you’d convinced your dad to let you stay, or if you’d looked me up - I’m afraid the world would be an even darker place than it is now.”

Grabbing Sam’s hand, y/n squeezed as her eyes found his. He studied her gaze, surprised but relieved to see the mischief and wonder hadn’t waned over the years. But there was something else. Something Sam recognized, but couldn’t even begin to hope for; love.

“I believe in free will, Sam. But seeing you walk through those doors tonight? For a second it felt like we were drawn together through destiny.” 

The frozen pit behind his ribs thawed - little by little - as she spoke. All this time she was just out there, waiting until they met again. Waiting for him.

Sam cupped y/n’s face, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. Y/n’s eyelashes fluttered at his touch and she sighed, leaning into his palm. 

“Ever since Dean,” Sam paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. He closed his eyes and steeled himself before looking at her again. Her gentle gaze grounded him further and he found his voice to continue. “Ever since he disappeared, I have felt so lost. Dean was all I had left and I didn’t think I could go on without him. And then I wound up here. Finding you, knowing you understand...it’s the first time I’ve felt anywhere close to being whole.”

Y/n placed her hand over his and turned her head to kiss his palm. 

“You don’t have to be lost any more, Sam. I can help you. We can find Dean together.”

Sam’s eyes burned at her words, at the promise she was offering him. “Y/n...I can’t ask you…”

Y/n cut him off with a press of her lips against his, he felt her smile into the kiss as his body went rigid. When she moved to pull away, he stopped her, his large hand cradling the back of her head and urging her closer. He kissed her back with everything he had, pouring out every emotion he’d felt in her absence from his life. She swallowed down every fear, pain, anger and frustration that Sam offered up.

When Sam broke the kiss, gasping for air, he found her smiling back up at him. Her eyes glassy and her lipstick smudged lips beautifully kiss-swollen, she traced his bottom lip with the tip of her finger.

“You’re not asking me to do anything, Sam. I’m offering.”

Sam’s shoulders sagged, this time in relief as the final dregs of ice melted away from his heart. As though she could sense his need, y/n wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. Sam pressed a kiss against her crown before she tilted her head back to look into his eyes.

“Welcome home, Sam.”

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

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