#I love them a perfectly acceptable amount I swear

[agentmarvel]

i've been thinking about this for days, so here y'all go.

part i |♡| part ii

sugar daddy!könig x fat!reader

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

könig, whose bank account contains millions that he has neither the time nor desire to spend himself.

könig, who learns about the sugaring community from stiletto and roze, surprisingly, and educates himself, finding himself quite interested.

newly minted sugar daddy!könig, who joins a website, hoping to meet a sweet, plump little thing to keep him company in his off time, accompany him to events he really doesn't want to be at, and is willing to be patient with him and stay in touch, though spotty, through deployments in exchange for everything she could possibly want.

sugar daddy!könig, who matches with you after several less than ideal encounters, boring conversations, and dozens of left swipes over the course of a year. he finds himself immediately enamored with your photos; you’re stunning, exactly his type.

sugar daddy!könig, who has a hard time talking himself out of sending you a large sum immediately just for a moment of your undivided attention, but ultimately decides against it, lest you only be interested in those deposits off the bat.

sugar daddy!könig, who learns you're a full-time student with limited means of support, given you aren't exactly a local. he could be the support you need, he thinks.

sugar daddy!könig, who is so thoroughly pleased with how you conduct yourself through messages, neglecting the matter of his finances almost entirely while you try to connect with him personally. after nearly a month of exchanging messages, he makes his first offer - daily pictures for payments. nothing lewd, not yet, but he's interested in seeing more than the same six photos he looks at daily on your profile.

sugar daddy!könig, who sends €500 per photo per day. you catch on quick, doubling or tripling up on them after a week; one before you head to class, one before you go to bed. but after the third time he sends multiple payments, you send a message telling him it's not necessary.

>>> I like sending the pictures! Your reactions are always so kind, and it makes my day! 🥰

sugar daddy!könig, who turns bright red at that and insists that he keep up his end of the bargain, but gives extra attention to detail in his responses.

sugar daddy!könig, who grows anxious to meet you face-to-face; broaching the subject proves difficult when he struggles to find the right words. luckily for him, you're a bit bolder, inquiring about events he mentioned, hoping to find chemistry on an actual date of sorts.

sugar daddy!könig, who is all too quick to agree to meet up with you. he warns you that he's painfully awkward, apologizes in advance on a loop, and warns you of his behemoth stature - a factor of intimidation for many, and he doesn't want to scare you off.

sugar daddy!könig, who adores your acceptance of his self-perceived flaws and shuts down the insecurities that you voice on your own behalf. your photos are not deceptive; he can see that you're a bigger girl (exactly what he wanted), and no amount of lighting, angle, or editing that could hide the most beautiful things about you.

sugar daddy!könig, who spends the next several days in a spiral over the date, stressing every miniscule detail until he chews a hole in his lip. his hands shake as he buttons his shirt, leg bouncing with nervous energy during the drive, fidgeting while he awaits your arrival...

sugar daddy!könig, who almost leaves when you're a mere five minutes late, berating himself internally for being blinded by optimism. he has to set his glass down in fear of breaking it in his tense grip.

sugar daddy!könig, who has to pick his jaw up from the floor when he catches sight of the hostess bringing you to the table. you're wearing a shy smile and a gorgeous dress that hugs your curves perfectly, and for the briefest moment, he swears he's in love.

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.30

Summary: You're determined to prove to Wednesday that you're better than Joel. Is it in a way she understands? Probably not, but you're no quitter

Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: swearing, paintball guns, Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) A/N: I'm taking a bit of creative liberty with the wolfing out thing just because it suits my needs, so don't come at me for it

“Do we have to keep him around?” You groaned as you sat down in the booth beside Wednesday.

“We kept you around,” she said without bothering to look up from her book.

It wasn’t like she needed to; she knew who you were talking about and what you were insinuating. You had been doing it for weeks. Although Wednesday didn’t quite understand why you had such an issue with Joel; she had chosen you, had she not? And she had no issue with Ash, so why had you been so upset? If you would just open up then she would comprehend your apprehension.

“That’s harsh,” you whispered. “You keep me around because you like me.”

“I would go so far as to say love,” she said while turning the page.

You stiffened beside her. “You would?”

Wednesday exhaled slowly and turned her head to look at you. The winter had been harsh on you, both physically and mentally. You looked worn and ragged and on edge. A few more feathers than usual had fallen out of your wings over the weeks and you couldn’t quit picking at them; a habit she knew you used to have when you got anxious. Everyone had believed you to have grown out of it, but the past few weeks had proven them wrong.

And now you were looking at her with crinkles around your eyes and the smallest smile on your lips.

“You know I do,” she said with a tilt of her head.

“I would like to hear you say it again though,” you said softly.

You were rather impossible, weren’t you?

“I keep you around because I tolerate you,” she said simply, instantly turning back to the book that she 

“Oh you’re a dick,” you grumbled as you let yourself fall back against the back of the booth. “If you don’t tell me you love me, I’m tripping your boy toy.”

“Your threats are empty,” Wednesday said. “And I don’t reward bad behaviour.”

“I don’t need to be rewarded,” you huffed. “I’m not Enid.”

The pout on your lips was rather adorable, Wednesday wouldn’t deny it. Not that she would ever let you know, of course, but it was. It was the small moments like this that gave her hope that you would get better. Of course you still had your bad days, and you were still going through a hard time with all the talks with the police, but you were getting there. There was hope.

“Oh Jesus christ,” you mumbled when Joel sat down opposite you both at the booth.

“Here you both are,” he said quietly as he slid coffee toward you and Wednesday, leaving his own in front of him. “Vastly different tastes.”

“And that matters why?” You asked, taking the coffee anyway.

“Behave,” Wednesday whispered to you before looking at Joel. “Thank you.”

Thankfully, you did exactly as Wednesday had instructed. You stayed nice and silent as she studied with Joel, going over more than what was required. Meanwhile you sat beside her, your hand resting on her knee under the table. Good little bird, she thought when she looked over and saw you drinking your coffee and playing some silly little game on your phone. Were those chickens?

Throughout the study session, you got up and got everyone, including Joel, some more coffee three times. The first two times were perfectly acceptable, you made hers exactly how she preferred it. Even Joel’s had been made to order, including the small amount of sugar and cream necessary. His third cup was less than satisfactory.

“This tastes incredibly sweet,” he said with a small grimace once he set the cup back down.

“Let me see,” you said, immediately reaching over and grabbing his cup.

Without warning, you brought it to your lips and took a deep drink. Wednesday had to fight her own impulse to smile at the look of shock and disgust on Joel’s face. She would admit, not many people could handle your eccentricities, especially those that hadn’t known you for long. You had very few mundane cares in life, and spreading your germs was something you never took into account.

“Tastes fine to me,” you said with a shrug before sliding it back over to Joel.

“That’s unsanitary,” he whispered into the mug that he couldn’t quit staring at.

“Oh get over it,” you grumbled. “We’ve kissed the same lips, surely we can share a mug.”

Sometimes Wednesday forgot just how childish you could be. Not immature, but childish. A lack of care in what you said or did. Not taking into account how someone else might construe your impulses. Take the coffee; she had come to expect it of you, but in someone else’s view, it was unorthodox, a behaviour you would expect from children.

Oh how she adored it.

“So do you two have any plans for this weekend?” He asked. Wednesday noticed the covert way he pushed the mug of coffee back in your direction, which you quickly took and continued drinking. She knew you didn’t hate him completely.

“Yes we do,” you said too quickly. “And you’re not invited.”

“We have no plans,” Wednesday answered just as quickly when you were done. She could feel your eyes boring into the side of her head, but she didn’t care. “Why do you ask?”

“A friend of mine went to a paintball tournament the other weekend,” he started; your head popped up quickly. “He said it was a cool place, so I was wondering if you and your group would want to go check it out.”

“Absolutely no-”

“-we would love to,” you interrupted her, a surprisingly genuine smile on your face. She gave you a questioning look, to which you shrugged in reply. “Sounds like fun.”

“Then we can all meet up on Saturday?” Joel asked.

“It’s a date,” you said as you reached your hand out and forced him to shake yours.

Your smile turned sadistic.

Oh.

—---

“Why are we doing this again?” Enid asked as you all walked down the sidewalk. The paintball field was finally in view in the distance.

“Because it’s cool as fuck,” Ajax said, to which Kent quickly gave him a high-five in reply.

“Because Wednesday’s girlfriend is looking a little green,” Bianca said, promptly ignoring the boys and walking a little closer to Ash. 

Oh yes, Wednesday had noticed the both of them over the past few weeks. At first she had thought it unusual when Ash came over to the apartment a few more times, claiming it was simply to get under your skin. A believable fib, Wednesday would admit. Part of Ash’s relationship with you was death by a thousand irritations, so to speak, and her presence in the dorm certainly had your feathers ruffling.

But then she started appearing while you were gone at work. The initial claim had been about forgetting her things at the dorm, which she had, and Wednesday never doubted her. Until she caught Ash going into Bianca's room, or meeting up with the siren before quickly heading back out into the world. Wednesday was never one to dabble in gossip or other people's relationships, but she was a curious soul.

It only took one night of following them to discover they had gone on a date. And judging by the ease in which they shared a kiss, they had been on multiple. Wednesday wondered if you knew, or if anyone knew, for that matter. Would you have cared? As much as you complained about Ash, you were rather protective of her. Would you give Bianca the - what did Divina call it - the shovel talk?

“I’m not looking green,” you said as you forcefully pulled Wednesday past the group. “I just think we could all do with a nice weekend adventure.”

“She told me she wants to shoot Joel in the dick,” Yoko said.

“Shut up,” you growled as you threw an arm out, hitting Yoko in the stomach. Hard.

“Why can’t you just talk it out like an adult?” Ash asked; Wednesday noticed her hand brush against Bianca’s. “You’re not five.”

“I said,” you emphasised, “it would be a nice outing for us.”

“But you are gonna shoot him in the dick?” Enid asked from her spot between Yoko and Divina.

“Ouch,” both Kent and Ajax said in unison with grimaces on their faces.

“Can you shoot Kent in the dick too?” Divina asked. “He does not need to procreate.”

“I’m not taking requests,” you said quickly, forcing a new argument to arise.

As you all continued getting closer and closer, you continued going on about how you weren’t going to shoot anyone while everyone had suggestions for you. If anything, it did nothing to ease the irritation that Wednesday could physically feel radiating off of you. It was a good thing she had helped you tighten the harness earlier otherwise it might not have held your feathers after all the ruffling she knew this would have caused.

And yet, even with the incessant arguing from everyone, she couldn’t help but admire the atmosphere it created. Yes, you were all unbelievably annoying and clamorous. And yes, you all gave her a headache that no elixir could ease. But at the end of the day, you would all go back home and laugh about the events of the past few hours the way Wednesday assumed a typical family would.

Although she would rather rip out her own vocal cords than admit that she saw you all as her family away from home.

“Oh look, there’s lover boy,” Yoko said when the group got close enough to see Joel waiting outside.

“I’m shooting him in the dick,” you mumbled to yourself even though Wednesday could very clearly hear it.

“You made it,” Joel said with a smile when everyone got closer. “Everything is all ready.”

“Let’s just go,” you said. You quickly let go of Wednesday’s hand and stalked inside, your hands now shoved deeply into the pocket of your jacket.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Yoko said as she followed, leaving Divina and Enid to attempt to stifle their laughter.

The building itself was rather small and open. There were a few places to sit and eat at - maybe you did have a point in bringing food - and an area off to the side to continue watching the field. It was quite sterile, and even though the colourful graffiti on the wall was headache inducing, Wednesday couldn’t deny the skill that went behind the art.

“Hey guys,” an older man said as he came out of a door behind him. “The name’s Carter. Hope the drive wasn’t too bad.”

“We walked,” you said without looking at him.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be the best outlet for you, Wednesday thought to herself.

“Then you’re all warmed up and ready to go,” the man said with an overly exaggerated clap. You and Ash both flinched but otherwise didn’t move. Curious. “Before we get started, does anyone have any experience with paintball?”

Both you and Ash raised your hands instantly and let out barely noticeable sighs. Well, that would most likely explain your reactions, wouldn’t it? Though, as Carter had you and Ash go to the table to unload snacks and jackets while he continued explaining, Wednesday started to question her own ability to notice the smallest things. For instance, had you always flinched at loud claps or noises? Now she was determined to watch you more carefully to figure it out.

“Alright, now on to teams,” Carter said with another clap, that had you and Ash sharing a look. “You all good if I team everyone up?”

Everyone except for you gave their agreement to the situation. Carter seemed rather excited at the prospect and quickly got to work separating everyone. If he had seen the look you gave him when he put you and Wednesday on separate teams, he pretended otherwise. Although everyone tried not to laugh at the near visible steam coming from your ears when he then put Joel on Wednesday’s team.

By the end of the sorting, the two teams were decided and appeared equally matched. You were to lead the team with Bianca, Enid, Ajax and Kent. On the other side, Ash was to lead the team with Wednesday, Yoko, Joel, and Divina. It was quite humorous to have the couples of the group split up - aside from Kent and Ajax who weren’t a couple but who might as well have been with how often they stuck together.

Carter led the way to the equipment room where you all got what you needed. Wednesday thought the whole thing was rather childish, but she couldn’t deny the look of pure concentration on your face was attractive. If only you could focus on something other than violence at some point. Even she managed to focus on other things when necessary, so why couldn’t you?

But you stood your ground, your face now neutral as you pulled off your jacket and started unbuckling your harness. Thankfully you had gone out into the main lobby to wait as you did so; Wednesday didn’t think you would fit in the small equipment room with everyone else. She was already slightly agitated from the events that she knew were bound to transpire, she didn’t need a mouth full of feathers to add to it.

“I forgot to ask, are any of you Outcasts by any-” Carter stopped talking right when your wings folded back tightly against your back, “-chance?”

“All but two of us,” Enid said with a slight straightening of her shoulders.

“Is that a problem?” Bianca asked.

“No problem at all,” he said as he cleared his throat and resumed his peppy personality. “Just please take care not to wolf out or stone anyone. We don’t have waivers for that.”

“Seems reasonable to me,” Ajax said with a shrug, which Kent readily agreed with.

“We do, however, have a field specifically for Outcasts,” Carter said, this time losing his sales persona and looking genuinely pleased. “Sun resistant for vampires, no reflective surfaces, and everything in there is durable enough to withstand an accidental wolf out.”

"Yoko, you can take your glasses off," you said, now standing next to your team who you had quickly ushered away. "Now you can properly see me wreck your shit."

"You gonna talk smack the whole time?" Ash asked.

"Not to you," you said. "I don't talk to losers."

"Oh god," Carter mumbled to himself, and Wednesday very nearly smirked at the newfound fear in his voice. "Alright everyone, outside you go."

“Don’t take any of this personal?” You said when you practically jogged to Wednesday’s location, slowing to a walk.

“You seem to be under the impression that you have a skill in this field,” Wednesday said. “Confidence is good, overconfidence will be your downfall.”

“You’re so intense,” you whispered. “I’ll try not to take it too personally.”

“A much better evaluation of the situation,” she said, her knuckles brushing against yours.

“Will you still love me after this?” You asked when everyone started parting ways to go to their own sides of the field.

Wednesday exhaled softly through her nose. “You simply want me to say it.”

“Yes I do,” you said with a gentle smile.

“My affection will rely on your abilities,” she said before turning around and walking to her side of the field.

“I’ll get you to admit you love me!” You shouted after her.

She simply smiled to herself.

“Okay, Y/N takes paintball really seriously,” Ash said once everyone was gathered around.

“Why am I not surprised?” Yoko said.

“Enid is ridiculously competitive too,” Divina said.

“Bianca will play fair,” Yoko continued.

“What about Ajax and Kent?” Joel asked. It was only then that Wednesday noticed he wasn’t wearing his glasses. It was rather smart of him.

“Incompetent at best,” Wednesday said. “They can be dispatched easily, they pose no threat.”

“Remind me to never be your enemy,” Ash said softly. “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking.”

Everyone listened intently as Ash described the strategy, giving their comments and criticisms as necessary. It was a solid plan, Wednesday would admit it. Joel would focus on Bianca, Ash would take out Enid, Yoko and Divina would get Kent and Ajax, and she would focus on you. The matchups were rather fair, it was a good plan.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who took paintball a bit seriously.

As everyone parted, going somewhere safe, Wednesday took a different approach. If you were as serious about this whole thing as Ash made it out to seem then you would be going after who you believed could pose a problem. And if you were smart, that would have herself and Ash on your hit list. Possibly Yoko depending on what mood you were in for the day.

That being said, Wednesday knew how you ticked. She might not understand your emotions, but she knew how your brain worked. It was something she had picked up on over the past few years, even before she had taken a genuine interest in you. You played the game well, but you were smart. Deceivingly smart.

Sounds of compressed air being released and paintballs hitting obstacles reached Wednesday's ears as she continued her own plan. You weren't foolish enough to fall into a trap, not when you were so focused. Years of being around and knowing Ash had given you insight into her thought process, so you wouldn’t fall for anything she tried to set up.

But Wednesday. Oh, you would fall for Wednesday. All she had to say was jump and you would ask how high. If she told you to kneel, you would do so. She didn’t need to rely on nefarious purposes. Truthfully she wouldn’t even need to try and trick you into anything. If she was right, which she usually was, you would come to her.

With that knowledge in mind, Wednesday walked around until she found the small grouping of trees near the edge of the field. She could still hear everyone, could hear the telltale sounds of whatever unnecessary nonsense was going on a little further away. None of it concerned her; she was focused on you. And if she was going to be forced to play such a ridiculous game, then she was going to play it well.

It didn’t take incredibly long before the sounds started to die out, turning into little more than the occasional hushed voice floating in the air. There was still the rare paintball shot, but everything else started to fade. There was no way you had been taken out by anyone, so Wednesday knew you couldn’t be far away. All she had to do was wait-

“-Caught you.”

Ah yes. With an insane amount of luck and skill, she didn’t flinch when your hands covered her eyes. She had forgotten about your surprising silence when necessary. Mentally she started berating herself for such a thing; she had seen you play that silly Mothman game with your younger siblings. When needed, you were beyond adept at staying silent.

Your hands removed themselves, giving her the ability to turn around and look up at you. Clearly you had been far too into the game because you were covered in what appeared to be mud, with sticks and leaves stuck in your hair. You were suspiciously devoid of paint, but judging by the way you held yourself, you were proud of the fact.

“I figured you would be out here,” you said with the smallest smirk; not gloating, just proud. “You don’t strike me as the type to run in without a plan.”

“You snuck up on me,” Wednesday said, still eyeing you up and down. You were carrying yourself with a certain authority you usually put aside. It looked good on you. “I’ll admit it’s rather impressive.”

“I could’ve shot you from the trees,” you said with a shrug, “but I know better than to shoot my own girlfriend.”

“Yes, that was rather smart on your part,” she agreed.

“How about we call it a truce?” You said with an upward lilt to your words, leaving it more as a question than a statement.

Oh you were clever. You knew exactly what you were doing. Clearly you felt you could beat her if you had truly wanted to, and now you were attempting to give her an out. A way to avoid humiliation and loss. You were giving her the opportunity to save herself - and her clothes - all with nothing but a genuine smile.

Wednesday studied you for only a moment more before cupping your jaw with one hand and pulling you down into a kiss. As expected, you gave in immediately, sighing gently and grabbing her by the waist. You smelled of dirt and trees, but somehow it still smelled precisely like you. Almost as if you were born with the smell.

“I love you,” Wednesday whispered against your lips. Whether on purpose or not, you whined almost inaudibly before kissing her again.

Your hands gripped her tighter, refusing to let her pull away even by a fraction. And at the moment, Wednesday was living for it. No one was around, it was just the two of you, and you tasted of her coffee from the walk over. You tasted familiar and like you belonged to her. It was in the small moments like that that solidified Wednesday’s belief that she would never wish for anyone else but you. She reached her free hand out to your hip, mirroring your grasp on hers.

*splat*

You grunted and stepped back quickly, your hands instantly going to your stomach. While you refused to look down, your eyes trailed down to the paintball gun in Wednesday’s hand. The very same one that had been on your hip only seconds ago. With wide eyes, you finally looked down at your midsection. Pulling your hands away slowly, your jaw fell when you saw the paint now staining your shirt and hands.

“You shot me,” you said incredulously.

“You believed I wouldn’t,” Wednesday said with a slight tilt of her head. “That was your mistake.”

“But you still love me, right?” You asked.

She didn’t answer you, just gave you the smallest smile and turned around to walk off. You were smart, brilliant even, but you had too much trust in those you loved. If she needed to shoot you a hundred times that day to get you to be a little more self preserving, then so be it.

The look of mock-betrayal on your face was rather appealing.

—---

By the time everyone was finally finished with the day, they were all completely covered in paint. Except for Wednesday, of course, who had only two marks on her; one from Bianca, and one from you (even though you had looked devastated at the act). Thankfully no one had been stoned, and Enid had only wolfed out three times. Although two of those times had been because you had goaded her into it.

Then there was you, who had paint splatters covering your wings in such a thick layer that Wednesday knew she would be helping you clean them for at least the next week. Possibly even two if you were stubborn about it, which you usually were. There was going to be paint in the apartment for weeks.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I personally feel a lot better,” you said when you watched with sadistic satisfaction as all three guys walked by with paint all over their pants.

“We all need to get home and eat,” Bianca said from her spot directly beside Ash.

“Or we pick up takeout?” Ajax suggested.

“From that dope Chinese hole in the wall?” Kent continued.

“They do pack a lot of calories,” you said, to which Enid readily agreed with you.

“Then it’s a plan,” Yoko said as she quickly grabbed Enid’s and Divina’s hands to pull them out of the building.

Everyone said their goodbyes to Carter, who looked rather happy to see them all leave, before standing awkwardly in front of the building. It wouldn’t have been so awkward except everyone was busy looking between you and Joel. Even the poor boy had noticed you had a vendetta against him and was standing off to the side, unsure of what exactly to do next.

Wednesday looked up at you when you slipped your hand into hers, giving it a gentle squeeze as you looked over at Joel. She couldn’t read your face, especially not through all the paint and dirt you still had covering your skin. If the ability to shoot at Joel hadn’t helped ease your concern then she didn’t know what would.

“You coming, Joel?” You asked.

“Is it… okay with you guys?” He asked. Everyone looked back at you again.

“Consider it an apology for shooting you in the dick,” you said with a shrug. All three guys covered their paint-stained crotches at the mention of the incident. “Alright, let’s go before Enid gets hangry.”

“I don’t get hangry,” Enid complained as everyone finally started walking away from the paintball fields.

You started up light conversation with Joel as he walked on the other side of you, and even though Wednesday could see you struggling to maintain composure, she was proud of you. Maybe she would need to tell you so when you got back to the apartment. Hopefully you wouldn’t require repayment for the betrayal shot earlier that day.

Maybe she would just kiss you some more before you could ask. Just in case.

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

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[licorice-tea]

Loving and Letting Go

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x reader

Content: Angst, hurt/comfort, eventually fluff, a little bit of platonic Zosan <3

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: FIRST REQUEST YAY! tysm to the anon who requested this, i loved writing this! hopefully it fits what you wanted! and ugh i tried to write it so it’s clear that sanji is genuinely in love for the reader, so much so that he’s willing to grow and change for them. he’s just so sweet, one of my fave characters for sure! oh also the title is from a song by Pham Viphurit! enjoy <3

Sanji loves you, so so so much. More than he could ever put into words, or cards and gifts of perfectly delicious meals and fruity drinks, or even hugs and kisses every time the two of you cross paths. But he still tries to convey the extent of his feelings for you, though it will never be enough in his humble opinion.

You, on the other hand, hold the complete opposite opinion. Yes, Sanji is sweet and loving and a great boyfriend, but sometimes he just does too much. Like, when he gives you presents out of the blue; you enjoyed the gifts at first, but overtime you started to feel bad for him spending all of his extra money on you. Then there were the things he’d say to you; you could be doing the most mundane of tasks, or be sick and rotting in bed, and Sanji would still address you as “my goddess.” Simply put, you feel undeserving of the amount of attention he gives you, and it makes you nervous.

Today, like everyday since the two of you became official (and quite a while before that), you wake up in his arms. Though Sanji wakes up much earlier than you in order to prepare breakfast and coffees and teas for the crew, he always makes time to come back and wake you up. And you know, as soon as you shuffle or allow your breathing to become uneven, that he’ll know you’re awake. So you try to fall back asleep in hopes he’ll just go and let you wake up alone. At least then your performance wont have to start until breakfast.

Unfortunately, Sanji just knows you too well. He notices the gentle flutter of your lashes and how your breathing had quickened, if only for a moment. Some people might consider this a luxury; to have such an attentive partner who knows you better than you know yourself. And you did too, at one point.

“Mon amour,” he whispers, “are you awake? I brought you a cup of coffee, and breakfast is ready in the kitchen.”

Sanji’s breath is warm on the back of your neck, but he places a kiss there and suddenly it’s burning hot. He’s so insatiable, smothering you in displays of affection first thing in the morning.

You really can’t take it anymore, and so you gently remove the arm that lays across you. “Go away, Sanji.” It comes off harsher than intended, but the buildup of stress from his constant admiration has reached its peak.

“…Are you ok? Are you sick?”

You sigh, still not turning to face him. “I’m fine, I just… you need to let me be.”

“Angel, have I done something? I’ll make it up to you, I swear, name what you want-“

“I want you to go away.”

Sanji holds his breath for a moment. You’re wounding him with your words, which you should feel bad for, but he’s literally giving you a headache. He doesn’t understand that even you, usually so accepting and reciprocating of all his love, have limits and require space.

He retracts his arms from around you and slips out of the bed, making sure to fix the comforter after. Sanji’s hand lingers on the door knob for a moment before he finally turns it. And while you let out a relieved, but shaky exhale, he tries to hold back tears on the other side of the door.

The tension between you two is palatable as ever. Not that there isn’t always some sort of tension, because there is, but usually it’s more… passionate. Or romantic, at the very least. But for the first time, the rest of the crew can tell that you and Sanji seem to be in the middle of some sort of lovers quarrel. He watches you from a distance and attempts to approach you several times throughout the course of the day, and every time you find some way to make yourself busy.

Even Zoro, in all his obliviousness, notices how little you two are interacting. “Hey, shitty cook.”

“Piss off, Zoro. I’m not in the mood for your stupidity.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Excuse me?”

“Ya know, with you and y/n. She’s avoiding you, so… What’d you do?”

“I DIDN’T-“ Sanji catches himself yelling, and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. She just told me to leave her alone, and I’m respecting her wishes.”

“Huh. Well, alright then.”

Zoro doesn’t speak further, but Sanji can tell he has something to say since he’s still sitting at the kitchen island instead of taking his sake to enjoy on the deck. “What? Just spit it out already, asshole.”

He shrugs. “You’re probably suffocating her with all your… love-y shit.”

“Suffocating? No, no I treat her the way she deserves to be treated. Y/n is my goddess, my night and day, she is the queen of my heart and-“

“You see what I mean? Y/n is great or whatever, but she’s a human. She’s one of our crewmates, for fucks sake, and you worship the ground she walks on instead of treating her like one.”

“Because I love her.”

“She knows you love her, idiot.”

“… Hm. You think so?”

“It’s pretty fucking obvious.”

Sanji scoffs. “Whatever.”

He walks out of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, but mind elsewhere. Perhaps Zoro… is right? Even that doesn’t sound possible, but… Sanji could understand how you might, on occasion, feel a little smothered. But even if you did, he thought you enjoyed it! You always welcomed his lips on yours or his hands around you, and you often would giggle and accept his compliments, returning them with your own. So when did you start to feel fed up with him? Had he not paid you enough attention, too caught up in worshipping you as the (surprisingly emotionally intelligent) swordsman had said? And most importantly, was it too late now to repair the damage?

Sanji finds you in the aquarium bar, finally, after searching the upper deck and checking your room and your study below deck. The door is open, so he knocks against the frame. You turn away from the tank to look at him with eyes wide open.

“Can we talk?”

You nod silently, and scoot over in the booth seat assuming that he would want to sit by you. But to your (pleasant?) surprise, Sanji takes a seat in a chair on the other side of the table.

“Mon- ahem, y/n. I’ve come to understand that maybe… Maybe you’ve felt smothered by me, recently. Is that true?”

You’re surprised that he recognizes why you’re upset. “Mhm. A little.”

“Can you tell me more, my love? I want to fix this, to fix my behavior.”

“…You’re perfect, Sanji. And I love you so much, it’s just… It makes me anxious when you’re always so- so extreme, you know?”

“What do you mean?” Which, he already knows; the gifts, the constant PDA, being around you 24/7…

You sigh. “You know what I mean, Sanji…”

“Yes, I do, but I don’t want it to be true. I don’t want you to feel bad because of me.” He thinks.

“You’re always hovering over me, and as much as I love being around you, too, it’s just too much. I need space, sometimes, and I’m only human but you treat me like… Like I’m somehow different or better than the others, and that… I don’t know, it makes me feel bad about myself.”

“I never want you to feel that way-“

“But you do. I feel guilty and nervous and- and..” you sniffle. Oh god, you’re crying. “I love you, but sometimes it’s too much.”

Sanji feels tears pricking the in the corners of his eyes, too. Was there really such a thing as too much affection? Clearly, if he had just made you cry from all of it.

“Y/n… I- I’m so sorry, I never meant to overwhelm you.”

You respond with an equally soft tone. “I know. It’s ok.”

He shakes his head and reaches an arm across the table, but second guessed the action and retracts his hand. “It’s not. I shouldn’t have ever done anything to make you uncomfortable in the first place.

You reach out this time, putting one hand over both of his. He glances up at you. “You didn’t know.”

“Still….”

“In the future, maybe… Maybe try to do a little less, if that makes sense?”

Sanji nods, and reaches out again; this time to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I just love you so much, y/n.”

“I love you too.”

While cradling your face in one hand, he continues. “I’ll give you more space from now on, if that’s what will make you feel better.”

“I think it will.”

And it does. In the coming days, Sanji keeps the PDA to a minimum, and even makes a point to call you by your name more often than he addresses you as “my goddess.” It makes you feel more seen, and definitely more comfortable.

You still want him to hold you most nights. It’s hard to fall asleep without his arms around you after so long getting used to the feeling of him; his love, his protection, his dedication and his breath. And of course, Sanji still indulges you. The great, passionate love he has for you hasn’t gone away- it never will- but the way he shows you affection are more so on your terms now.

Besides: what greater way could there be to show you his love, than by doing everything in his power to make you happy?

[ceilingfan5]

boy enrichment

happy friday! another one for @taznovembercelebration "YES"

“So like, I don’t know any of this nerd shit,” Taako says, flipping his hair a little. “But the lil’ man wants to play, and I want him to get to play, because the next time he gets the zoomies and I have to play Risk I’m gonna fuckin’ Risk It All, you know what I mean? No offence, Ango.” 

“None taken, sir! If I took offence at all of your flippant and seemingly disparaging comments made to distance yourself from real feelings and maintain the dangerously seductive comfort of irony, I’d be in a sorry state, probably!” Angus grins a great big gap toothed grin, not even looking at Taako, who just sort of accepts this as normal. Both of them look at Kravitz expectantly, and he, stunned, realized he’s meant to be formulating an answer and not just being more floored than the sad, sad fucking arcade carpet he won’t replace because he’d have to lose like, a WEEK of business. 

Also it’s vintage. 

“But I’m not!” Angus says, probably for Kravitz’s benefit, and also as a politer way to kick someone under the table, especially when you cannot kick under the counter of his game store. 

“Right,” Kravitz says. “So you want to play DnD.”

“Oh, more than anything, sir!” Angus does a little wiggle that betrays the absolute carbonated excitement lurking under his carefully controlled little bow-tie ass calm. “But even, perhaps, if it were possible to be more than anything and then more than that again, as how some infinities are larger than other infinities, as you may remember from the siren song of calculus, I really, really want to DM!”

“You want to DM?” Kravitz eyes the ten year old. Ten? He thinks Taako said ten. He might have also said five, and that’s definitely not true. Probably. No, definitely. Five is like double toddler. Right? Double and a half? “Dungeon Master,” Angus says helpfully, opening his mouth and taking a thrilled deep breath to elaborate ‘for Kravitz’s benefit’. 

“Right. Well, sh- heck, young man, uh, I admire your enthusiasm,”

“Don’t worry, you can swear in front of me! I’m perfectly well aware of what sort of words you say in what sort of situations. In fact, I’ve been learning a lot about code-switching, and-”

“Hey, lil’man, you gotta win the sale to infodump,” Taako nudges in a stage whisper.

“Right!!!!!” Angus straightens up, vibrating like a Looney Toons arrow. “Regardless, would it be possible to DM at your game store Mr. Kravitz? I promise I would follow any rules and guidelines you set out as appropriate based on your store code of conduct, even if they’re stupid, and Taako can help me bring snacks if that is acceptable!”

Kravitz laughs, getting the hang of it now. He gets it. Maybe he doesn’t get Angus specifically yet, or even kids in general, but oh, does he recognize this flavor. And he would fucking love to enable it as far as he’s allowed. 

“You know what, I do think I have an open table. I’ll put out feelers and see who’s interested. Do you mind a rotating party, or would you prefer to lock in for a certain amount of time?”

“Hmmmm,” Angus says, screwing up his face and clearly mentally flipping through his campaign notes. “Let me consider and prioritize.”

“Yeah, you consider and prioritize, maybe shop around a little, and I’ll chat with your, uh,”

“Taako,” Taako smoulders, which provides no fucking context whatsoever. Who are you to him. ELABORATE!!

“Taako,” Kravitz agrees with a smile. 

Angus bolts off so fast to look at the campaign books and dice that he leaves an Angus-shaped cloud behind, and Taako and Kravitz stifle laughter, because it’s still not like, a huge store, and the little guy probably hears everything he isn’t supposed to. 

“Precocious,” Kravitz says fondly. “You don’t know the half of it,” Taako sighs. “I can’t keep up with him half the time. But man, he cares so hard it wears a hole through me and when I eat it falls out of me like a cartoon skeleton.”

“So true.” Kravitz can’t help but laugh. They’re more the same than Taako may realize. They reek of the same vibe, like the kind of candle you wanna take a big bite out of. “He’s yours?”

“Insomuch as a stray cat is yours, you know?” Taako leans on the game counter and sigh, toying with his hair again, which Kravitz recognizes is a flirting technique and is somehow still kneecapped by. “Like, you can be like, hey, who the fuck lets cats outside? They’re gonna decimate the goddamn bird population, and then where will we be?”

“Ten percent less birdful,” Kravitz says, like that’s a reasonable thing any person has ever said on planet Earth, ever. 

Taako nods, which does nothing to discourage Kravitz’s bullshit. 

“But like, seriously, his legal guardians don’t do shit, and yadda yadda yadda,”

“Plot plot lore,  Kravitz agrees. 

“He’s mine, sort of. He comes and eats my food, at least, you know, when he doesn’t have to fight possums for it.” 

“Does the possum have a name?” Kravitz grins. 

“Garyl,” Taako says, whipping back just as fast. Fuck, Kravitz is obsessed with him. Damn, he had things to do. “He used to be a binicorn in another life, but he can’t escape the cycle, so he came back as a trash gargler. His favorite cheese is provolone.”

“Ooh, mild,” Kravitz says, so outside of himself at the moment that he could pause the livestream and do football drawings and commentary on his own stupid face putting these noises in this order. But Taako laughs, so it’s worth it. He looks at Angus, who is carefully inspecting the Bucket O’ Dice, and digging frantically for one he’s spotted in the very bottom. “I almost want to go open another pound of dice and pour them in, you know, for uh…boy enrichment.”

“Boy enrichment is the name of the game,” Taako agrees. “That tiger needs beefier meat pumpkins than cha’boi can provide. I can’t keep up with him, seriously. I was hoping maybe you’d know more about this shit?”

“Yeah, a little,” Kravitz massively understates, feeling a glowing, strong bond form between him and this alleycat of a kid. “I’d love to let him find his footing here, if you want. And if people want to be freaks about it, I’m not having it.”

“Fuck yeah,” Taako mumbles. “Knew I could trust a pretty guy like you. No one’s snapped you up yet?”

“Too goth and weird,” Kravitz laments, like he isn’t having a heart attack about being called pretty. “I’m as single as the day is long.” 

“Well, it’s Daylight Savings Time, bitch, and it’s about to get real dark.” 

“Are you-” Kravitz can’t help but laugh. “Are you announcing your intentions to pursue me?”

“Is it working?” Taako winks. 

“Yes,” Kravitz has to admit. “Yes it is."

[ID: a gameboard with 15 spaces, 1-5 taken up by stickers of a cat, a fish, "good worker", a door, and a dragon]

[apteryxparvus]

truth beneath the spell

Pairing — Lyney / Reader

Word count — 5865

Content warning — mild cursing • idiots in love • mean pranks

Summary — For years, you and Lyney have been locked in a fierce rivalry, constantly one-upping each other. But when Lyney’s latest stunt results in the destruction of your cherished garden, revenge is the only thing on your mind.

Driven by a desperate desire to settle the score at the upcoming Fontaine Grand Gala, you devise a cunning plan — you infuse Lyney’s favorite Pate de Fruit with a potent dose of truth powder.

However, what you don’t anticipate is your plan going awry as emotions buried deep within both of you begin to surface.

“Don’t you think this is a tad bit excessive?” Mona muses, casting a lazy glance your way, as she reclines on your plush couch. She idly flips through a weathered spellbook, her once neatly tied hair cascading freely around her shoulders. “I mean, if you keep retaliating to every prank, you’ll forever be stuck in this endless all-out war.”

You huff dramatically from your spot on the floor, attention fixated on the pile of journals chaotically scattered around. “He started it first,” you retort, completely ignoring your friend’s advice.

She arches an elegant eyebrow. “And you just had to get back at him, didn't you?"

“Yes! My reputation is on the line!”

She sighs, a hint of exasperation evident in her voice, as she joins you on the carpet. "Why yes, you're totally not trying to hide—really badly at that, by the way—your extremely obvious crush on Lyney."

“No!” you deny too quickly, shoving the first heavy journal you find against Mona, catching her off guard. "Just — just, shut up and help me, or I swear to the Archons above, I will tell the Old Hag who read and misplaced her precious journal."

Mona gapes, her light blue eyes narrowing as her teasing smirk fades away from her soft face. “This is blackmail,” she declares, gaze fixated on your menacing, yet cheerful expression. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You say nothing in response, and a silence envelops the two of you, lingering in the air, broken only by the rhythmic sound of pages being flipped. Each turn feels like an eternity as you scan through the books.

“Aha!” you exclaim, eyes gleaming with triumph as you point towards a page adorned with scribbles and intricate diagrams.

Mona’s gaze shifts from skepticism to intrigue, and she leans in, studying the page with genuine interest. Her eyes flicker between you and the diagrams, and she shakes her head.

“I think that one is too much, even for your standards,” she remarks, furrowing her brows.

"What do you mean? It's perfectly acceptable!"

She looks at you, her expression a mix of disbelief and concern. "You cannot just open an extradimensional portal and send him tumbling into an unknown domain! Are you out of your mind?"

"Fine, fine. I'll look for something else," you grumble, resuming your little quest. You skim over the pages with renewed determination. Each time you eagerly point towards a spell, Mona shoots you a disapproving look, shaking her head.

Finally, you stumble upon the perfect spell — one with easily obtainable ingredients and a straightward diagram and incantation. Your face lights up as Mona nods in approval.

"Mockingbird's Echo," you begin to read, your fingers delicately tracing the frayed page. "Transforms the fauna in proximity to its target into impish mimics, compelling them to emulate every gesture and vocalization in a sarcastic and mocking tone. These enchanted creatures persistently trail the subject."

"I suppose that's an interesting tactic to silence him," Mona comments with a sly smirk. “Will you need my help gathering the ingredients?”

You inspect the list of items mentioned — a generous amount of dried Tongue Grass, a combination of Swine’s Snout and Lion’s Tooth, along with century-old Mayflower bark, three purple candles, and a moon-charged Septarian.

A brief moment of contemplation passes over your features, and your eyes shift to your herb corner comfortably nestled on your windowsill.

“Perhaps you can ask Jean if she’s willing to part with one of her quality blends of Swine's Snout and Lion's Tooth."

A few days later, after Mona had successfully procured a high-quality blend of herbs from Jean — whose only response was the thinning of her lips along with a deadpan expression at the mention of your plan — you’re sitting, legs crossed, in your ritual room.

The moon bathes the room in its ethereal glow, revealing your altar, cluttered with numerous hanging smudge sticks, spell jars, and a multitude of colorful misshapen crystals and stones. The air seems to shimmer with a subtle energy, carrying whispers of ancient magic. All the necessary ingredients are neatly arranged next to you, catching the moonlight that reflects their textures and deep colors.

The silence is interrupted by the soft rustle of pages as you look over the instructions for the spell. Following the guidance, you carefully place each herb in your trusty mortar, grinding them into a fine powder. As you add the century-old Mayflower, you grimace at the memory of haggling for a cheaper price, recalling the heated argument with the pink-haired merchant. You transfer the powder to a small bowl, placing it in the center of the altar.

With a swat of your wrist, the candles next to you flicker to life, their flames dancing in response to your command. You meticulously draw several runes, ensuring each one is somewhat connected with the burning candles beside them.

Reciting the incantations, you hold the charged Septarian close to your chest. The air around you crackles with energy, the temperature growing hotter with each uttered word.

Moments later, the candles die, their flames extinguished abruptly. The room plunges into sudden darkness, and only the residual warmth and charged energy lingering in the air is left.

You let out a sigh of relief, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck, and your limbs feel heavy, as if gravity is pulling your body harder and harder to the ground.

Performing spells has always taken its toll on you, and ever since Lyney's remark about your limited mana levels — sparking the beginning of your little rivalry — you've been dedicated to surpass your own limitations, improving and strengthening your energy, determined to prove him wrong.

With a proud smile, you place the ground herbs in a small sack, expertly wrapping it with cotton twine.

“That’ll teach him,” you mumble to yourself.

Slipping the enchanted sack of herbs into Lyney's coat proves to be amusingly simple; a bribe for his familiar — a fluffy black cat with red eyes and a sly feline smirk — involving a bag of catnip and a few morsels of fatty tuna seals the deal.

"Rosseland, come here, boy," you whisper-yell, propped against the fence that separates your house from Lyney's. The cat glances at you, then at the tempting bag of catnip in your hand.

He lets out a loud meow, and you see his expression shift into one of mischief, perfectly mirroring your own. The cat trots over to you, skillfully climbing the wooden fence.

“Good boy,” you murmur as he purrs, affectionately headbutting you. You scratch behind his ear, earning a satisfied meow.

It's amusing how much Lyney's own familiar adores you; he’s constantly overjoyed to see you, and you are the only other person apart from the trio of siblings allowed to give him belly rubs.

Rosseland climbs onto your shoulders, playfully biting into your hair, anticipating the promised treats. "Yes, yes, my boy." You wave the catnip in front of his face, and his whiskers twitch happily as he takes a whiff. He gracefully jumps off you, landing on the grass. You crouch next to him. "Listen, you'll get all this — maybe even some Pate de Fruit — but on one condition." The cat perks up at the mention of his favorite jelly candy, staring at you expectantly. "I need you to place this in Lyney's coat, yeah?" you say, presenting the enchanted sachet.

Purring once more, the cat headbutts you in agreement, his long bushy tail brushing across your face. You laugh softly as you offer him the promised pieces of fatty tuna. Once he finishes the treats, you let him play with the catnip, observing him as he rolls around the grass, meowing and growling loudly.

You release a sigh. "It's a mystery how such an adorable familiar ended up with such an annoying owner like Lyney..."

The same evening, as you prepare a simple vegetable stew and savor a glass of dandelion wine for dinner, a loud, insistent knock echoes from your front door. Glancing at the oven clock, you realize the only person who would be knocking this late could only be—

"Open the door right now, or else!" Lyney yells, and you smirk at the evident frustration in his voice, his words echoed by several mocking tones.

“As if,” you mutter under your breath dismissively, ignoring his shouts. You carry on stirring the simmering mixture, checking the thickness of the stew and tenderness of the potatoes. Licking the wooden spoon, you release a contented hum, pleased with the spiciness level of your creation.

Just as you're about to turn off the stove, the room grows unbearably hot, the flame of the stove flares for a moment, and a scorching breeze envelops you. Swirling around, you brandish the wooden spoon like a weapon.

“How dare you!” you shout as Lyney materializes in your kitchen. “You just had to come and ruin my dinner, didn’t you?” You point an accusatory finger towards the now-blackened dish.

“And you really had to cast such an annoying spell on me?” he fires back, his voice mirrored by the two ravens swirling around him. You can't help but giggle at the mocking tones of the birds. Lyney only shoots you a glare, his violet eyes narrowed into slits.

"Remove this spell right now," he demands, crossing his arms.

“No,” you answer bluntly. “You trespassed into my home, scorched my floor,” you continue, pointing towards the now-charred floorboards around Lyney, “and ruined the dinner I was looking forward to the whole day.”

"And anyway, shouldn't you be the better one of us, huh? Why not get rid of the spell by yourself?" you smirk, enjoying the flush that colors his face.

Lyney stays silent for a few moments, then releases a grunt and turns around without uttering another word. The birds follow, hovering nearby. One of them pecks at his hat, and he swats the raven away, fists clenched.

You wait for the inevitable sound of your front door slamming shut, and as it does, you sink into a seat at the table. Cheeks ablaze, you hide your face in your palms, and let out a groan. "Of all the people, why did I have to develop a crush on you?"

“Barghest, Mama’s home!” you holler, your familiar dashing towards you, tail wagging. The large wolf-dog leaps into your arms, and you both tumble onto the grass, laughter bubbling out as he showers you with slobbery kisses. “Bargest, enough — enough,” you giggle through his affectionate onslaught, running a hand through his short, silky fur. “I missed you too, baby.”

"He was very obedient while you were away," Clorinde remarks, leaning against her front door. "How was your trip to Mondstadt?"

"Tiring as usual," you sigh, rubbing your temples. "Fischl roped me and Mona into yet another commission. This time, we ended up getting lost in a labyrinth-like domain… and chased off by wind spirits.”

Clorinde's laughter fills the air as she gives you a thorough once-over. Her gaze lingers on the eye bags beneath your tired eyes and the fading bruises scattered over your body.

"Go home and rest; you'll need it if you want to be at least partly presentable for the meeting this Wednesday."

Your eyes widen for a split second, and your stomach plummets—the meeting, oh shit, Fontaine Grand Gala.

In the midst of the ongoing prank war and the recent commission in Mondstadt, you had entirely forgotten about the bi-yearly gathering between the Fontaine magical society members. The last one had been absolute chaos — arguments had erupted between different factions, and neither Lady Furina’s authoritative commands nor Monsieur Neuvillette's diplomatic skills could calm anyone down.

As the cherry on top, you and Lyney ended up in an elemental brawl that echoed through the grand hall. The sizzling magic and the crackling flames did not only set a few ancient artifacts on fire but also managed to engulf a couple of innocent coats and dresses in the process.

"Maybe this time it'll be less eventful," Clorinde offers optimistically, though the subtle raise of her eyebrow suggests she's not entirely convinced. "But seriously, take care of yourself before Wednesday."

As you traverse the familiar forest path leading towards your home, accompanied by the rhythmic thud of your familiar’s heavy paws, your mind is haunted by the vivid memories of the fiasco. And you can’t help but cringe at the thought of how your fiery clash with Lyney had quickly become part of the gossip fodder of the community.

"Barghest, I am so utterly screwed.” Your companion’s ears perk up at the mention of his name as you lament. “This stupid rivalry is only fueling my crush. Am I some sort of masochist?" Barghest, of course, remains silent, but responds with a look — his red eyes slightly narrowed, as if silently calling you out on your own stupidity.

The evening air is cool, and the dimming sunlight is hidden behind the canopy of tall trees, casting a gentle shadow over the path leading to your home. As you approach, a sudden shiver runs down your spine, and goosebumps prickle your skin. Beside you, Barghest snarls, revealing his sharp fangs, his eyes aglow in an ominous red.

In the distance, you notice several small creatures circling your garden, an unsettling dark aura barely cloaking their presence.

"He wouldn't have," you whisper, unable to comprehend the scene unfolding before your eyes.

Barghest doesn't wait for your command, already leaping towards the boggards. The creatures, sensing the imminent danger, emit squeaks of terror. In panic, they release their grip on the plants they were holding, fleeing into the distance. You command your familiar to stay put as you take cautious steps towards the now disturbed spot.

The soil beneath your feet is upturned, and the once vibrant plants lie trampled and torn. There is a lingering malevolence tainting the air, intermingling with the putrid smell of sulfur.

As you lower yourself to the ground, a wave of emotion washes over you, and a few tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. Gently, your fingers trace the once vibrant, now crumpled petals of a bluebell.

Amidst the disarray, a lone tansy stands tall, slender stem unwavering against the chaos. The petite yellow blooms stand out against the aftermath. 

You narrow your eyes, a simmering anger bubbling within you. The significance of the plant isn't lost on you — after all, herbology is your strongest subject. Could Lyney have intentionally left this flower as a declaration of war, knowing full well its meaning? You shake your head, dismissing the notion, but the uncertainty lingers on within you.

Barghest moves closer, his furry form leaning in, and with a gentle nudge, his wet snout presses against your cheek.

"Don't worry, we'll get back at him," you murmur soothingly into his fur.

"Try this on," Mona suggests, gently fastening a choker around your neck. The piece is adorned with a large amber gemstone, encapsulating the fossilized remains of a spider.

You run your fingers along the delicate lace of the choker, observing your reflection in the mirror. You’re elegantly dressed for the grand gala, light makeup accentuating your features. Mona had offered to help you get ready, preaching how the best revenge is appearing uncaring and looking your best.

And while you agree with Mona’s sentiment, you’ve kept your true intentions hidden from her — how you intend to make Lyney confess all his wrongdoings and embarrass him before the community.

Your friend had seemed wary upon spotting the assortment of desserts in your bag — pate de fruits, conch madeleines, and colorful macarons. But you had swiftly explained it as an apology for the previous incident. Mona had raised an eyebrow in suspicion but chose not to press further, and you had sighed internally, relieved.

There was no way in Celestia you’d disclose the fact that the fruit jelly slices — one of Lyney’s favorite snacks — were discreetly laced with a potent dose of truth powder, cleverly mixed with the sugar.

"Promise me, no arguments, no fights, and especially no more pyro brawls with Lyney.”

You let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping a bit. "Yes, I know," you mumble, pouting. “Chiori still shoots me icy stares whenever she passes by. The coat was apparently a family heirloom or something.”

Mona gives you a pointed look. "I know you're plotting something to avenge your garden, but promise me you'll hold off until after the gala."

Rolling your eyes, you assure her, "I'll behave, alright?” Raising your right hand dramatically, you declare, "cross my heart, Mona. I'll be the picture of perfect behavior."

A soft, monotone voice calls your name, and you turn around to find Lynette approaching. “This bow looks really cute on you,” you comment, eyes flickering to the teal accessory adorning her hair.

She responds with a quiet thanks, a delicate blush dusting her cheeks. "I should go look for Freminet. He's probably feeling overwhelmed from the party by now," she states, glancing around the bustling gala. You nod in understanding.

"Also, I would recommend not going near the punch table. A feral cat is on the loose there," she warns and you cannot help but laugh, knowing full well who she is referring to. She's been aware of her older brother’s antics since the beginning of your prank war, maintaining a neutral stance despite Lyney’s persistent attempts to enlist her help on multiple occasions.

As Lynette makes her way through the crowd, you take a moment to admire the lively atmosphere of the gala.

The grand hall, with its soaring ceiling and arched doorways, exudes an air of timeless elegance. Elaborate tapestries hang from the walls, and the polished marble floors reflect the shimmering lights above. As you walk around the room, you pass by tall columns, embellished with sophisticated carvings, depicting scenes that capture the rich history of Fontaine.

Ignoring Lynette’s warning, you decide to make your way towards the punch table, where the “feral cat” supposedly roams. As you approach, you spot the magician engaged in an animated conversation with Aether, their laughter filling the air.

Lyney, as if possessing the hearing of a wild cat, detects the sound of your approaching footsteps and swiftly turns around. He offers you a cheerful smile that doesn’t fully mask the challenge lurking in his eyes.

Aether, the embodiment of warmth and light, greets you in a friendly manner, his eyes a rich glowing amber hue.

"I brought some desserts," you announce with a hesitant smile, presenting the carefully arranged selection of sweets. “As an apology for last time.” Your gaze flickers away in an attempt to appear shy and humble.

Aether’s eyes light up at the sight of the intricately crafted macarons. You generously offer him a few, suggesting he shares them with his gluttonous fairy familiar. Grateful, he thanks you and departs, leaving you alone with your rival.

The atmosphere between the two of you thickens, the tension palpable.

"You're not going to share some with me?" Lyney teases, a mock pout on his face.

"After you ruined my garden, no, not really."

"Then would you like a glass of punch as an apology?" he suggests, pointing to the fruity mixture.

Your eyes narrow suspiciously. "A drink from you? No thanks, I don't trust you."

Lyney's playful demeanor doesn't falter; instead, he takes a deliberate step closer, his gaze holding a challenge. "Come on, don't be so uptight. It's just punch."

"And why would I take anything from you?" you question, suspicion lacing your words. "How can I be sure that you wouldn't have poured something in it?"

"Because why would I drink it myself, too? And look," he points casually to a few figures engaged in lively conversation near you. "They’re also drinking from the punch. Why would I risk angering the rest, especially today?"

You pause, considering his argument.

If you're going to endure this gala until Mona decides it's time to leave, a little liquid courage would not hurt. You look away from Lyney's captivating violet eyes, snatching the glass he is holding. With a sly grin, you pour yourself a generous amount of the sparkling liquid.

“Well, it was unpleasant meeting you, as always,” you say with a smirk, your hair swaying as you turn to leave. Unbeknownst to you, Lyney’s eyes follow your every move, a faint pink hue dusting his cheeks.

His lively façade noticeably deflates as he witnesses you greet a dark-haired man whose muscles strain against his clothes. Lyney clicks his tongue disapprovingly, downing his drink in one swift gulp — he doesn’t care that you’re talking to Wriothesley, and he is absolutely indifferent about your little crush on the older warlock.

The magician refuses to acknowledge the subtle shifts in his emotions, trying his best to avoid the implications they carry.

He pours himself another glass of the punch, scanning the various tables. His eyes lock onto a plate of jellied fruits, sitting there untouched, the tempting delicacy calling out to him.

Wriothesley casually leans against a column, sipping tea from a delicate cup.

"Has Barghest been giving you any trouble?" he inquires, his voice smooth.

"Um…" you start, feeling your tongue dry up, the words unable to leave your mouth. "Actually, yes," you stammer, and you gape, not believing your own words.

"Oh? What's wrong?"

“To start off, anytime we're at the dog park, attempting to blend in with normal people and play fetch with a stick, he insists on bringing me enchanted — and by that I mean cursed — artifacts. Not only does he refuse to let go, but he hoards all his little finds and won't even let me touch them!" You rant, voice rising. "And don't get me started on his behavior during the full moon. It would've been fine if the only problem was his howling — I could easily cast a spell and soundproof the room. But no! He gets the zoomies and has to run around for hours!"

Wriothesley arches an eyebrow, motioning for you to continue. His expression is of mild curiosity, partly entertained by your unusual behavior.

You gasp, hands instinctively flying to cover your mouth. The words had spilled out unintentionally, and it takes you a moment to grasp the bizarre nature of the situation.

“Ask me what’s two plus two,” you implore in an attempt to make sense of the situation, eyes pleading.

With a bemused expression, the Duke obliges.

Summoning all your willpower, you try to say “five”. However, each attempt feels like dragging your tongue through sand, rendering your voice mute before the incorrect word can escape. After a brief struggle, you give up with a reluctant "four."

"Congratulations, you can do basic math," Wriothesley deadpans.

"Lyney, you little shit!”

Your eyes sweep across the hall, searching for his unmistakable figure amidst the crowd. His figure seems to grow more prominent as he gets closer and closer. The room seems to narrow down to just the two of you, the distant chatter and laughter fading away.

Lyney is now just a few paces away, his eyes fixed on yours.

"You!" The accusation erupts simultaneously from both of you,

"You think you can just ruin my night and get away with it?"

"You ruined my garden, and now you're trying to ruin my reputation at the gala!”

The onlookers, previously engaged in light-hearted conversations, now turn their attention towards the spectacle unfolding before them. The entire grand hall holds its breath, sensing the growing hostility, awaiting the next move.

Lyney smirks, seemingly unfazed by the attention. "Well, if you're looking for a fight, you've got one."

Before you can formulate a response, a voice echoes through the hall, cutting through the tension. "Enough!" The commanding presence of Monsieur Neuvillette silences the murmurs in an instant. "The two of you, out now."

Attempting to explain yourself ends up being futile, as Chevreuse firmly grasps your shoulders, propelling you towards the exit. You find yourself unceremoniously dropped on the grass outside, protests lost in the scuffle. Clorinde follows suit, pushing Lyney out with a force that sends him stumbling besides you.

"You are not allowed to re-enter until you've resolved this petty drama between you," Clorinde declares, tone unyielding, as she forcefully closes the door behind you, the latch clicking shut.

"You drugged me with a truth serum!" you shout as you nurse your aching tailbone. Lyney ignores you, nonchalantly standing up and brushing off his clothes.

"And you didn't do the same?" he retorts with a sharp edge to his words, his nostrils flaring.

"It was payback for my garden! An answer to your little declaration of war!" you snap.

The male in front of you appears taken aback for a split second. "Declaration of what? What are you even talking about?”

"The tansy, you asshole!"

"Tansy? What even is a tansy? Have you gone mad?" he responds, a furrow forming on his brow as he struggles to comprehend your accusations.

"The only flower the stupid boggards you summoned left alone in my whole garden. Do you even know what it means?" Your voice echoes in the stillness, punctuated by the distant sounds of crickets and the passing night breeze.

"I really don't know what a tansy is," he admits, his confessions handing in the air, the admission catching you off guard. Despite your initial reluctance to believe him, the truth serum’s influence prevents him from lying — and you’re left grappling with the realization that perhaps he is genuinely unaware of its significance.

You groan, the weight of the chaotic evening bearing down on you. "Seriously, why did it have to be you?" you mumble into your hands, your words muffled by your palms.

"Me what?" Lyney asks, leaning in slightly.

Your eyes widen, and panic courses through you. You quickly press your hands against your lips in a desperate attempt to keep them closed. The truth serum is still affecting you, and you’re acutely aware you’ve almost revealed more than you intended.

Lyney narrows his eyes, sensing that there's more to your words than meets the eye. "Come on, spill it," he prods, leaning in even closer, his lips brushing past your ear.

You gulp, squeezing your eyes shut. "It's unfair that I had to like you of all people," you confess quickly through gritted teeth, your fists clenching the grass beneath you. "What idiot falls in love with someone who clearly hates them and sees them as weak and useless?"

Lyney is stunned, not expecting your answer. He stumbles back, and you feel a few tears pricking in your eyes at his obvious rejection.

"You love me?" he slowly asks, confused. You take a look at him — the moonlight accentuates the contours of his face, revealing a vulnerability you've never witnessed before.

"Yes, how many times do you want me to repeat it and embarrass myself? I think this was more than enough."

"An infinite amount of times," he states softly. You meet his gaze with damp eyelashes, taken aback by the sudden flush of his cheeks. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, drawing a shaky breath, he murmurs, "I want to hear you say it again and again."

“Why?”

"Because—because I love you too.”

His confession hangs in the air, every vulnerable emotion laid bare before you.

“You must be lying,” you mumble, shaking your head.

Lyney crouches down to meet your averted gaze. “Look at me,” he murmurs gently as he reaches out to brush away the lone tear tracking down your cheek. “You know I cannot lie.”

As his thumb wipes away the dampness from your skin, you find yourself leaning into his touch. “Then why do and say all these hurtful things?”

A tense silence hangs between you as Lyney seems to search for the right words. He takes a steadying breath before meeting your eyes. “Fear… Fear made me lash out in stupid ways. When I first saw you, it stirred memories of my own immaturity and overconfidence, back before I realized I could depend on other people, too.” His shoulders slump. “I didn't mean to hurl those hurtful remarks towards you — I really didn't — but I wanted to shield myself from caring for you.”

His eyes plead for understanding, hand reaching for you, but he lets it fall limply to his side when he sees the turbulent swirl of hurt and anger in your eyes. 

"You are so stupid, Lyney!" you cry, hot tears coursing freely down your cheeks now. "Instead of facing your true feelings, you chose to lash out and say cruel things, just to drive me away! Clearly that didn't work out, did it?”

Your ragged breaths echo in the tense silence between you both. Lyney offers no defense, unable to justify his actions.

"I should've been honest from the beginning. I wanted you to become stronger... and while doing so, I hurt you," he says, eyes downcast, and you notice how the fight he had in him has left him. “I saw my own weakness reflected in you…”

"Wow, thanks for noticing," you bite back, the hurt in your words hidden by your simmering anger, veiling the vulnerability underneath. "So, all those times you cast spells on me, all those attempts to humiliate me in front of friends and superiors—what was it all for? To help me grow? Get over yourself, Lyney."

He looks down, unable to meet your eyes. "I truly am sorry," he murmurs, “and I wish I could take it all back.”

You stand up, your body surging with conflicting emotions as you close the distance between you and Lyney. As you draw near, your face is mere inches away from his; nostrils flaring, you grit your teeth, and without breaking eye contact, you grab him by his shirt.

"Sorry won't fix it." Your fingers dig into the fabric. "And yet, I still love you."

With those words left hanging in the air, you press your lips to his.

Your mouths collide in a frenzied dance, all the bottled up emotions pouring out. Your hand moves from his collar to the back of his neck, gripping him tightly, fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer to you.

Lyney responds with a fervor that matches your own — his lips move against your with a hunger that mirrors your desires, his pent up feelings coming undone. His hands find their way to your sides, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go. The pressure of his touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burns hotter with each passing second.

The kiss is not gentle; its rawness — a proof of the unspoken tension that has defined your relationship.

You feel the wetness of tears streaming down Lyney’s cheeks, and his grip on your sides tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he deepens the kiss. His teeth graze your lower lip, and a breathy moan escapes your lips.

"I love you so, so much," he whispers as he moves his lips away from yours, leaning his forehead against yours. "I will do my best to repent for my actions until the day I die."

The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, and you can't help but let out a choked sob, heart feeling both heavy and light. You reach for his face, your trembling hands gently cradling his cheeks.

"I know you will," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion, "and I know I will forgive you."

You press your lips against his once again, this time tenderly. Your bodies draw closer, molding together as if they were made to fit each other perfectly. The heat between you intensifies, and you feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours.

The world around you fades into insignificance, and time becomes irrelevant as you lose yourselves in the intoxicating passion.

“—rinde, Clorinde, wait” a distant voice calls out.

"They’ve been out there for a while. I must make sure no property is destroyed, again."

Clorinde flings the heavy door open, eyes narrowed, body crackling with purple electricity that dances around her. Seconds later, Navia follows suit, appearing slightly out of breath with her intricate dress billowing behind her.

Caught in the act, you and Lyney spring apart at their entrance. The two women's eyes scan your disheveled appearances — your lipstick smudged around your mouth, with marks matching its shade plainly visible on Lyney's collar and neck, both your clothing rumpled, and his hairdo now a tangled mess.

"Damn it," Clorinde's groans, her hand pressing against her forehead in apparent frustration. "You couldn't wait — I don't know — a few more weeks until Mabon. Now I'm down 72,000 mora."

"What?" you ask, puzzled by your friend’s outburst.

Navia sighs, offering a sympathetic pat on Clorinde's shoulder. "A few people had a betting pool running."

"A betting pool? About what?"

Clorinde crosses her arms, her expression softening. "How long it would take you and Lyney to finally confess your feelings," she reveals. Lyney's cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and realization. "I bet that it would happen after Mabon. A few others had different predictions, and of course, there was Wriothesley who bet on tonight. That smug asshole was so sure."

“Well, then, we will leave you two lovebirds alone," Navia teases, giving you a playful wink.

"Wait," you yell out, feeling a sudden surge of curiosity. "What did — what did Mona bet on?"

Clorinde's laughter fills the air. "Oh, Mona? She bet that you'll always be at each other's necks," she reveals, unable to contain her amusement.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mona," you mutter under your breath, exasperation evident in your voice.

Clorinde waves a dismissive hand. "Oh, don't take it too seriously. Just remember, I expect an invitation to the wedding."

"We're not even officially together yet, and you're already planning our wedding?" you exclaim.

"Let's take it one step at a time, shall we?” Lyney teases, his voice filled with warmth as he presses his lips against your cheek. “But I must admit, a wedding would be quite the celebration." Lyney teases, pressing his lips against your cheek.

"Anyway, I will leave you two alone now, just try to keep it PG in here," Clorinde teases once again before shutting the door behind her, leaving you and Lyney alone.

Your whole body flushes. On one hand, you feel a tinge of embarrassment and anger at the thought of your friends betting on your love life — particularly your best friend betting against you. But on the other hand, you can’t deny the contentment swirling within you, knowing that you’ve finally broken down Lyney's walls and glimpsed at the raw emotions behind his eyes.

"I think before we go in, we should have a proper talk about us," you murmur, meeting Lyney’s gaze with a determined expression. "Just so you know, I'm not toning down on the pranks even if we are together. I have a score to settle."

"Oh, I wouldn't expect anything less," he replies, a hint of challenge in his voice. "But remember, love, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve as well."

Author's note: My brain is completly fried from the amount of RedBulls and painkillers, so sorry for any mistakes. This was meant to be around 2k words, but yea... 💀

Some extra information for the curious 😋

English folk names for the herbs used — Chickweed (Tongue Grass), Dandelion seeds and roots (Swine’s Snout and Lion’s Tooth, respectively), Hawthorn (Mayflower)

Dragon's Egg — another name for Septarian, a brownish-red stone that "enhances communication abilities", a healing stone

Rosseland — in-game name for Lyney's cat

Barghest — a monstrous black dog from English Folklore; I like to imagine Barghest was from the same litter as Wriothesley's familiar (Cerberus), which is why the two of you are close friends

The Fontaine Grand Gala being hosted on a Wednesday — supposedly this day of the week is associated with "communication"

Lyney did not spike the punch, but the empty glass he was holding (which was rudely snatched) was coated in the truth-serum powder

Tansy (Tanacetum vulgare) — a perennial flowering plant; "I declare war on you"

[b4tasquad]

Hii i asked earlier if you were writing for sharky! Could I request headcannons or anything really on what it's like to date him? Like how he would be in the relationship etc. :D

DATING SHARKY:HEADCANNONS

When you initially started dating sharky it was safe to say you were scared for your life. Not only did the YouTuber have a crazy following that would dissect your relationship into pieces, trying to find way to pull the two of you apart, but the amount of girls that fancied him. Scary. You had been reluctant to tell him anything though. Being someone who influences in media was obviously something he loved doing, and you didn’t want to be annoying with your insecurities which you felt weren’t really valid. Somewhere along the first few weeks of being official, sharky had noticed. He kissed you softly, holding your cheeks in his hand. “I don’t care about what they think or the girls in my dms, I just want you.” Was what he had said, honesty behind his every word. “I swear.”

He is your chauffeur. It didn’t matter if it was an hour's drive or even 2 minutes, Sharky drove you. It started with him casually offering to drive you places, and you accepted, happy to be given such princess treatment. One day, you enlightened him on your distaste for driving, just by casually mentioning it while in conversation. “ I don’t like driving, to be honest.” You had told him. “Prefer to be in the passenger seat.” From then on he had refused to let you sit behind the wheel. He gave you a ride to work, to your dates, and even for a little snack at the corner shop. While you always rolled your eyes, telling him he didn’t need to, you secretly loved it, and he knew that.

Not going to sleep without working things out. One important thing to Sharky was working things out. He hated arguing, but since it was something that happened in every couple, he focused more on how to resolve the issue than grumbling over the issue in itself. He was the calmest person you knew, and it didn’t matter how rude you were being. Sharky would reply with the softest tone, being caring and gentle with you. After a while you had picked up his traits, refusing to stay mad at him through the night. It made it even more complicated, and that was something the two of you didn’t want.

He’d make sure you’re comfortable around his friends. It was no secret that Sharky’s friends could be a little overbearing and come across as intimidating, which meant him being slightly concerned about how you’d handle it around them. He wanted you and the guys to get along, secretly needing his friend’s validation. It was the occasional “Are they being good?” when he had stepped away for a minute, or “What did you think about it?” after dinner. Luckily for him, you got along with his friends perfectly, even finding a funny friendship with one of his best friends, Aj.

When away for work, he was in them texts constantly. Checking up on you, chatting and ranting all day long. You wondered how he got the time in between events, filming and just socializing with others, but your boyfriend was Sharky. Of course, he found a way to do all that. “Babe, the guy sat next to me smells funny” he had texted you one night you knew he was supposed to be at dinner. “Just.. move?” You had laughed out loud, your laughter doubling when his response came. “I moved before even clicking send on the message.”

He was be READY for work gossip. It didn’t matter how little or big the tea was, best believe Sharky was all in to hear about your hectic work atmosphere. You found it sweet how he’d genuinely be so into it, commenting “Noo! Are you serious?” Or even “they didn’t.” It was an everyday thing. You get home from work to find Sharky doubled over the couch, waiting for you and his daily catch-up.

The first person you show your new items to. Sharky had made his love for you trying on things for him immensely clear dozens of times. He loved being laid against the bed, watching as you talked about the clothing/ item, explaining why you liked or disliked it. Often he’d come with his personal opinion which was always. “It looks amazing on you.” You rolled your eyes every time, but a smile still grazed your lips. Safe to say he was the best hypeman ever.

[strwbmei]

I love Kiamei, but Elymei also has my heart 💔😔 Apologies if I get anything wrong, I don't know jack about fashion/makeup ahaha

"Elysia... I'm thankful, but is all of this really necessary?" Mei sighs, following the pink-haired elf with an obnoxious amount of shopping bags hanging from her arms and shoulders.

Of course, Mei expected this as soon as she accepted Elysia's invite to go shopping, but only because she thought they'd be buying clothes for Elysia. Splurging on herself like this was an unfamiliar feeling to Mei.

Elysia only hums happily in response, already walking with a cheerful step on her way to a clothing rack filled with collared shirts in neutral colors. "Of course! Ah, these would look great on you. You look so dashing in black!"

"Hmm... We should also get you some crop tops. You should show off those abs once in a while!" Elysia comments, holding one in front of Mei to see if it'd be a good fit. "A crop top? Aren't those more your style?" Mei smiles, starting to accept her faith as Elysia's fashion model for the day.

Suddenly, Elysia looks as if she's had a ground breaking epiphany. Not a good sign. "Mei! You're a genius!" She starts grabbing crop tops of different colors, setting aside the one she was holding previously. "We should get matching ones! Hmm... What about heart patterns? Ooh, or I could have Eden design ones with our faces on them!"

Mei can't help but sputter and cough thinking of the idea. Knowing the other woman, she was most definitely not joking. "I think the heart patterns are enough. Pink or white would look great on you." Before she can even blink, Elysia was already nowhere to be found.

"Mei! Over here!" The elf waves Mei over, a bunch of shades of lipsticks in her hands as she does. Mei swears those makeup samples weren't there the last time they walked by. Perhaps it's the writer's will. "These shades were practically made for you, wouldn't you think?"

Elysia excitedly applies one on herself, and kisses the taller woman on the lips. Meanwhile, Mei is left at a loss for words. She could never get used to Elysia's sudden shows of affection. "See?" Elysia holds a mirror in front of her. (Again, where did it even come from?) The shade did in fact fit Mei perfectly.

"One more." Mei says. Now, Elysia is the one left flustered. "I mean, the lipstick is a bit off center, so-" the pink haired woman giggles at Mei's frantic attempt at explaining herself, opting to squeeze her cheeks. The action makes Mei pout. "You're so cute. You can just ask for a kiss, y'know?"

"Chsn I hvuh kish, pleash?" Can I have a kiss, please? Mei speaks through muffled words. Elysia stretches her cheeks a bit before finally letting go. "Of course. Pretty girls are my weakness~" She kisses Mei again, this time on the cheeks, much to the other woman's surprise.

"Ah, looks like I'll have to do it again."

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

"Young mortal! I have accepted your offering for my dominion. Be wary, for much danger lies in this realm. All-oh, Mr. Darktide! It's you again."

Adam nodded, pointing his glowing ring towards the deity of dreams, Luna, formerly of Crystal Cove.

"Theo dragged me here once, so I thought that I'd return the favour," he explained. "This crystal ties us together. With your permission, I'd like to summon him to this realm and speak with him."

"An interesting request," Luna replied, looking amused. "I'm not usually in the service of star-crossed teens who need a place to meet. My purpose is to govern the realm I've been given, not guide young love."

"Please," Adam begged, trying to look as sad as he possibly could. "I've tried everything to find him, but the only safe thing connecting us seems to be your realm. Even with all the wards and protections of wherever he is, everyone has to sleep. It's biology, not magic. I've risked so much to be here and I gave an offering like the book said. I need to see Theo Bellamy, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Such a Darktide," Luna mused. "Always barging in, demanding to be accommodated. I can see your ancestors in your eyes, like entitled phantoms raging in your blood. My father lost his heart to a Darktide, did you know that?"

Adam shook his head quickly. Luna was rambling on about people he'd never met, and he only had a limited amount of time in this realm. Life and Death seemed to know everyone's true names, so he was willing to bet that the deity of dreams did too and might respond better if he invoked them.

"No, I had no idea. I'm not my ancestors, though. I'm not my parents or my deranged uncle. My name is Adam Sebastian Casper Maricourt Darktide and I demand to see Theodosius Ulysses G Bellamy. Please."

"Alright," Luna teased. "Don't work yourself up about it. I was just sharing some of my vast experiences with you. It's lonely in a realm where everyone sleeps sometimes. Everything isn't always about you, you know."

Adam flushed with embarrassment. This was getting him nowhere and the last thing he wanted was to anger a deity. He didn't need that danger added to his already crazy life.

"Sorry, I didn't realize. It's just that...I haven't seen Theo in months now and this might be my only chance. Please, continue to tell me about your father and the Darktides. I will listen if you'll just let me see Theo."

Luna smiled softly.

"You have a good heart, Mr. Darktide," she said. "You're a bit inconsiderate, considering that you're asking me to help you, but your heart is good. I will open the gate to allow your crystal to call for your love, but be sure to tell him that he must also make an offering upon waking. The Old Ways must still be observed."

"The gate is now open," Luna announced. "I hope that your crystal is strong enough to summon him. Truly. The Ocean is often unfairly rough with your family. Until the next time you cross my path."

Adam's ring began to glow with a blinding light as the deity faded from his vision. It took enormous effort for it to search for the matching crystal in the vast realm of dreams, but Adam wasn't giving up. Not when he'd already come this far.

Pain radiated up his arm, which Adam found intriguing considering that he was asleep at the moment in another realm, likely perfectly fine. It was well within his control to deal with, though, after all he'd practiced.

Demonic magic swirled around Adam and he closed his eyes, trying to follow it back to its source. Following it back to Theo.

"What the hell is happening? Alys, if this is another one of your tough love lessons, I swear to god I'll-"

"Theo?"

The crystal on Theo's hand grew even brighter now that it was near its match. It was this reaction that convinced Adam that this was really Theo, that Luna hadn't tricked him.

"Adam, is that you?" Theo blinked and rubbed his eyes, sincerely hoping that this wasn't just an illusion his teachers were tricking him with.

"It's me," Adam confirmed, staring in awe at the culmination of his plans. Everyone had written off talking to Theo while he was gone, but Adam's plan had actually worked! "I've been trying to find you for months now."

"You have? I saw your spell with my ring. I haven't taken it off since."

"It was the only way to access wherever you are," Adam explained. "We're dreaming now. It was the only realm that wouldn't kill us to walk through."

His gaze dropped to the floor. It was overwhelming to see Theo again. So many emotions rushed to his mind, making it difficult to think straight.

His plan had worked. Theo was beside him. Doing magic still sometimes physically hurt. Theo was dangerous. He might always be dangerous in some way, but that smile still made Adam weak in the knees. It was all so much to process.

"Adam, I'm sorry," Theo began. "I never meant to hurt you. I had no idea how out of control I'd gotten. I'm doing better now, much better. I promise."

Even though seeing Theo again was everything Adam had been working towards for so long, part of him still held back, afraid to get hurt even more. He didn't want to feel like this. He should have processed all these feelings already and moved on and been fine.

"I know it was an accident," Adam replied quietly. "You would never mean to hurt me as badly as you did. And we should have listened to Evren about being careful about...well, you know."

"We don't have to do that again," Theo said quickly, equally embarrassed to be talking about how badly their experiments with sex had gone. "We can wait until we're older. Just because everyone else is doing it, doesn't mean...oh, I've gotten ahead of myself."

He paused and gave Adam a tearful look.

"I'm assuming that you want to keep dating me, I'm sorry. 'Being mindful of other people's feelings' is something that I apparently need to work on, according to most of my teachers. I don't blame you if you never want to see me again. I can see the way you're looking at me. As usual, I've completely misread this and you only came here to break up with me. I'm so stupid."

"Theo, I've had a lot of time to think about what happened and my feelings on it. I don't regret what we did. I could never regret it. I just...it's been really difficult without you. I didn't know how I felt about us or if I wanted us to be together or if I'd changed too much for us to be together at all." He paused, trying to put his feelings into words. "Something bad happened to me, Theo. Something I don't know how to fix."

"You're pregnant!" Theo gasped, making Adam roll his eyes.

"God, Theo, your parents really have made you paranoid. No one's pregnant. I...I just...I'm different."

Theo nodded sympathetically, still unsure if Adam truly wanted him to respond to that statement with facts or to just keep apologizing.

"It's called Toyonaga's Trap," he replied, hoping that he was making the correct choice. "What happened between us. It was a textbook presentation of it. A blood connection that ends in the destruction of the person while the demon funnels their power into themselves. It was named for the Lost Queens of Strangetown, two teens who made a blood deal for power and ended up erased from the universe when the deal collected them. I was so worried that you died because of me and they wouldn't let me even talk to you. I did everything I could to shield you from danger, but I still saw you when the paramedics took you away. I couldn't live with myself if i had caused your death. It would destroy me."

"Theo, I-"

Before Theo could even register what was happening, Adam wrapped his arms around the hybrid tightly, leaning in to brush his face near Theo's. It wasn't the same feeling as holding Theo in a physical realm, but it was better than nothing. He hugged Theo as tight as he could to reassure his boyfriend.

"I didn't die; you protected me. You've always protected me no matter what. It took me a while, but I've made my peace with what happened. I'm not right anymore, but I'm alive."

"There are a handful of people who survived Toyonaga's Trap and they all have different symptoms," Theo stated, like he was remembering the writing in his textbook. "Migraines, joint pain, and some other side effects."

"Well, file this under other," Adam said. "I'd say that I fit there."

"I can see that," Theo murmured, stroking the scar on Adam's face gently. "You don't know how sorry I am that this happened. This is on your actual body or just your projection here?"

"The scarring is permanent. My mom and dad tried everything they could to heal it, but they couldn't."

"Oh. So every morning you wake up to see the grisly reminder of my lack of control in the mirror. Shit, Adam, I'm so sorry. You must hate me."

"I could never hate you, Theo," Adam assured his boyfriend. "There were some dark times where I questioned if we were really right for each other, but I could never hate you."

He caught Theo's hand when it was lowered from caressing his face and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I don't blame you," Theo replied earnestly. "I've been thoroughly yelled at by just about every teacher here for triggering a major demonic incident with a partner. Believe me, they've all shouted at me at some point." His face brightened, remembering something important. "But, they do have some comprehensive sex ed classes here that I was strongly recommended. If we ever wanted to be together like that again, once I graduate out of this hell, I should be able to channel our connection properly. But only if you want to. Which you don't have to. I'd understand."

"I'm not sure I want to...be...intimate," Adam confessed, still squeezing Theo's hand reassuringly. "I...I almost died, Theo. I can't just pick up from where we used to be. You've been gone for months and I've tried to put everything behind me. I need to know that you won't let this happen again, and I'm sorry, but I can't trust that you can right now. I need time, probably a lot of time."

Theo tried his best not to look crushed, but he probably failed.

"So, you want to go back to being friends?" Theo asked quietly, avoiding looking at Adam directly. "You keep avoiding the topic. Are you still interested in being my boyfriend? Do you just not hate me, or do you love me?"

Adam smiled coyly.

"I like like you, Theo. According to your Aunt, that's all I should admit to a guy if his parents are broke."

"And even then," Theo agreed, a huge weight lifting from his chest at these words. "I like like you too. A lot."

"We'll figure this out," Adam promised. "Together. I just need to work through my feelings first." His voice began to waver despite the incredible efforts he was making to hide his discomfort. "It's-it's been really hard without you here. Without getting to talk this through with you. I almost died, Theo, and for what? Because my sister keeps flaunting her sex life, and it made us curious? I don't want to die for something as stupid as that."

"Hey. Come here."

Theo pulled his boyfriend to the ground and wrapped his arms around him, just as they did back home. Adam couldn't deny how much he'd missed laying in Theo's arms, watching the clouds move above them and hearing the beating of Theo's heart. This moment was perfect and exactly why he'd fought so hard to see Theo again. There were no expectations between them in this realm. Theo couldn't accidentally hurt him here, and that knowledge made Adam bolder than he would be in the waking realm. He held Theo tightly, trying to commit every detail to memory. It could be several more months of waiting for Theo to come home and even when he did, Adam still couldn't see himself being fully able to relax at Theo's touch.

"What are you learning?" Adam asked curiously. "Tell me about your school. What's life like in demon military school?"

What's your life like without me?

"Boring. I mostly talk to teachers and tutors, there's not really a huge class size here. I get bi-weekly passes out to this weird country that has a strong culty vibe. I met a guy at the movies and we talked a bit before my parole officers dragged me back to school."

Adam bristled at the mention of another guy with Theo at a movie theater, a timeless place for teen hookups. Theo seemed to just be rambling about the boringness of his life, which calmed Adam slightly. Theo was usually pretty easy to read when he wanted something or had a crush and Adam could see none of the telltale signs on Theo's face.

Adam beamed at his boyfriend as Theo continued rambling about the quality of the food at school. Adam felt jealous of this random boy. After feeling nothing for the last few months, he finally had a Theo related emotion, even if it was jealousy. He wanted Theo to himself, he could feel that feeling spread across his body, waking it up from its long depression. After months of being unsure of his feelings for Theo, the threat of another person being interested in him ignited Adam's heart.

"You've told people that you have a boyfriend, right?"

Theo shrugged.

"I'm supposed to say you're a girl," he scoffed. "This place is weird and homophobic and I can't even mention my dads. There's something wrong with this place. Everything here is so weird."

"Oh, should I be thinking up a girl version of Adam?" the warlock teased. "Adama? Admina?"

"I just said that I was dating Remy Darktide. It's close enough and they can check and see that I'm not making her up."

Adam scowled at the thought of people thinking Theo was dating Remy. If she ever found out, she would never let that go.

"Don't tell Remy that," he pleaded.

"I've met Remy before, Adam, I know how she is. I think I can keep a secret from her."

Adam squeezed Theo tightly, hoping that this moment would last forever. It wouldn't. There were limitations on how long mortals could travel in other realms and Adam could already feel the pull back to the waking world begin.

"I don't think I'm allowed to repeat this visit to see you," Adam sighed. "It was hard enough getting here this time."

"I miss you. I don't want to leave," Theo insisted. "I don't know when I'll see you again." The demon hybrid pouted, wrapping himself around Adam tighter. "Stay with me."

"I can't. I physically can't. It's not how the world works. People would start entering people's dreams whenever they wanted to, and the balance of the realms would warp. Have you figured out where you're living? Maybe I could send you a postcard."

"No, but it's somewhere strange. I don't know if it is part of the universe or just tacked on or whatever in the grand scheme of things. Only women are able to get pregnant here and they treat demons like they did back in the Demon Wars. No wonder it's so hard for people to get into this school. It's a nightmare." He paused for a moment. "Well, the stuff I'm working on is even more advanced than our class work at the academy. When I do get to go back there, I'll pass every magical exam they throw at me."

"Do they ever say how you're doing?" Adam asked hopefully. "You're leaving soon, right?"

Theo shook his head sadly.

"They keep talking about what to do with the curse I was born with. I can't cast much magic as long as it's there, festering inside me, but it's still a part of me. There's some ritual I have to prepare for and a ceremony before I can leave here. They've forced me to have several incidents back to back, and I'm getting better at controlling them. I just need the curse to either disappear entirely or re-absorb into a more controllable part of my magical essence. But they think that eliminating the curse entirely will have 'dangerous repercussions' for me, so I'm hoping that the re-absorb option is the one that works."

"Will there be any impact on me? We're connected loosely, so it's possible that I could have something impact my magic too." Adam paused. "The scar isn't the only new thing to happen to me, Theo. I can sense the Void now and open portals to it. Maybe even a little more; I've been afraid to experiment with it."

"What?!"

Theo listened with concern as Adam detailed his new abilities. A non-demonic warlock able to display mild demonic abilities? His teachers would have a fit when he asked whether Adam's new abilities impacted his studies. But still...this development gave Theo an idea.

"So neither of us can be in the Void for long periods of time, right? There's no harm that can happen just by opening a rift. You and I can both open rifts and portals now, so we can pass messages through it if we want. Think about it! We could write a message and leave it in a portal in one of the top layers of the Void where there's not much danger. The Void is connected to both of our locations, even wherever the hell I am. My teachers can open a portal to home, so it's possible."

"We could use a crystal to help pierce through the Void, so our portals have more strength," Adam agreed, thinking about what he knew of magical theory. "If you and I use the crystal in our rings at the same time to access the same area in the Void, we might have enough combined strength to pull it off. It wouldn't be powerful enough to let a person through, but a note? I could see that working."

"We could be penpals! Just...don't write anything dirty just in case another demon comes across it."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Clearly after months of isolation, Theo's mind had remained in the gutter. Adam was a teenage boy with raging hormones, sure, but every time he thought of those stolen moments wrapped up in Theo's bedsheets, fear washed over him, drowning his desires completely. Theo wasn't safe outside of a dream. Adam had nearly died. He could die any time at any moment if Theo slipped and lost control. The mere memory of the pain of demonic magic tearing him slowly apart still made him bolt awake at night. His brush with death had been devastating, and Theo's magic cult school had a clean, clinical name for what had happened. It was even textbook apparently.

It was nice to be held by Theo and it was nice to pretend that nothing between them had changed. It was nice, but it wasn't true.

"Okay, here's what we'll need. Probably at least one locked box, preferably silver if we can get our hands on it. Definitely write in pen, just in case pencil is too weak to read. Oh! Do you think we'd need notebooks or would a single piece of paper be more effective? No, definitely go with the notebooks. You'll have to get all of this though, sorry. I can't exactly run to the store here."

Adam held Theo as he rambled on about how they'd pull off the Great Penpal Trick, trying to nod when appropriate.

"Theo? I think we're out of time," he announced, watching his hand and arm begin to fade on Theo's chest. "I'm waking up."

"Don't forget about the holy water. That will keep demons out of our letters."

"Theo, you're a demon and I'm a mess of demonic magic, we would probably only hurt ourselves with that. Besides, what demon wants to read about your boring school or my insane family? They have better things to do."

Theo pouted at this dose of reality. He'd spent so long thinking of what he'd say to Adam and longing to hold Adam and staring at the occasionally glowing ring he'd gotten from Adam, that he'd forgotten that he and Adam had spent so much time apart, and they were no longer in sync with each other.

"I'll wait for you to put the box in the agreed upon spot then. It won’t be too much longer that I'm here...I hope so anyway. Keep away from Simon down the hall. He has a massive crush on you and might try to hit on you while I'm gone."

Adam rolled his eyes at the very idea of running off with the guy Remy chose for him after he'd spent all of this time trying to reach his boyfriend.

"Yeah, well, you make sure that movie theater boy keeps his hands off you," he countered.

"Brion? I'm sure his weird ass homophobic country would be okay with that. Absolutely."

Adam's entire right arm vanished as the dream realm began ejecting him from it.

"Theo, I-"

"Oh thank god! I was starting to worry about you. Did it work? Did you see Theo?"

Adam groaned, holding his throbbing head while he regained control of his senses. He was back just where he'd started this endeavor: at school, looking over the vast landscape of Lower Pleasantview.

"Yeah, it worked," he confirmed. "He was right there. I could even touch him. We weren't just apparitions without form."

"Oh, so it was that kind of dream? With touching?" Travis teased, earning a scowl from his friend.

"No, somehow we contained ourselves. We had other things to discuss."

"And? Are you still dating? Remy might back off her scheming if she knew that you were happily in a relationship with your boyfriend. The school gossip mill might die down too."

"Like Remy isn't involved with the gossip mill too? She's my twin sister, she needs to calm down. Tell her whatever you think will keep her from trying to spring more blind dates on me, but yeah, Theo and I are still dating."

He looked over his shoulder to see his two lookouts too consumed by hormones to see that Adam had woken up. A quick stab of jealousy shot through him as he saw how easily they moved together. They trusted each other. Neither boy knew enough about magic to be a threat to the other. It must be nice.

"We did it!" Travis exclaimed, high fiving Adam happily. "Plus, you're alive and in one piece! Tell me all about it! I'm dying to know everything that happened. Was he in his pajamas or was he projecting his own self-image? What did the deity look like? Did they threaten you?"

Adam picked up the borrowed staff he'd used earlier, inspecting it for damage.

"I'll tell you all about it, but we'd better get this back to the storage room before my dad finds us and wants to know why we needed it."

[tatooinebarnes]

Ghost of You - A Roger Taylor Collection

Magdalena Lierens has been assigned to be Queen's tour manager during their first tour of the United States. She didn't ever anticipate that would turn into following a certain blonde with gorgeous eyes across oceans, through over crowded concert halls and into secluded dressing rooms.

complete, 33k words

originally begun in early 2019 here. also on wattpad and ao3

warnings: mentions of drugs, alcohol use, swearing, anxiety, mentions of depression, implied sexual content. basically it’s a 70s rockstar fic so that’s its own warning

disclaimer: tbh i think real person fiction is kinda weird and other than using Queen as inspiration, this isn’t about them as real people. writing this allowed me to develop Lena as a character i love but i will not be writing future fics about real people

+ a little visual i made once for this fic

Part 1 - 16 April 1974 - First USA performance

It was their first performance on U.S. soil. For what she had heard about them, she thought the venue was too small to contain their reputation, let alone their egos. And she kinda felt bad for the headlining band because as of now, it looked like  Queen would go down in history as legendary, where the headliners would only be known for being there when Queen first played the U.S. 

What Lena was doing here, she wasn’t quite sure, she had just been told that for the next months until this tour was over, she would be managing many of the behind-the-scenes Queen affairs. She decided not to question why she would be assigned this sort of task, but it was only ever once in your life you were told that you should manage famous rock stars with zero experience.  Lena had yet to actually meet the band as they were late, as per usual. The headlining band’s singer was pacing the stage, looking out over the empty grounds anxiously.

“What could they possibly be doing. They were supposed to be here to soundcheck hours ago.”

Just then, a car door banged in the distance and followed by a round of unruly laughter. They had finally arrived, Lena thought.

With much flipping of hair and a chorus of “Hello Darlings!” to everyone Freddie saw, the band entered the venue. 

Hours later, the hall was packed full of people, a writhing sweaty mass, drinking in all the rock n’roll thrown at them. At first the crowd had seemed hesitant at the force with which Queen had arrived onto the stage, but it was not long before they fell right into the swing of Freddie’s phantasmagoria. Meeting the band had been about as eventful as Lena had imagined. Freddie had greeted her with a hug and kiss on the cheek, Brian with a warm smile, John with a hesitant half grin and Roger with a wink. She watched them play to the crowd now. They were more incredible to watch than she had envisioned; Brian with his passionate playing, John with his weird little dancing, Roger’s focus and flare, and Freddie’s sheer passion. Lena watched them with intensity, marveling at their stage presence and they way they commanded the still unsure crowd. 

Their set was over as soon as it had begun and the band came prancing off stage as the headlining band went on. 

“What did you think darling?” Freddie asked. 

Before she had a chance to answer, Roger interrupted, “Of course she thought it was wonderful. What other reaction would there be?”

Lena just rolled her eyes, “I was going to say that I was very impressed, especially with your playing songs that were released only a few days ago.”

“Oh so you’re a fan?” Freddie said.

“I just did my research. I figured I should know a bit about you before I spend the next two months making sure you survive.”

“Well then darling, let us all go out together and you can finish your research by having a drink with us.”

“I don’t think-”

“I am sure it is perfectly acceptable. Now let us go.”

To no surprise of Lena, but to the immense surprise of the band, there were no clubs of the sort they were looking for. After living in the States for even a short amount of time it was evident that in the more rural parts, even in a city like Denver, there was a desperate lack of clubs and places which a band like Queen might frequent. They were not perturbed by this state of affairs and still insisted that they go out for drinks.  At Lena’s recommendation they arrived at the most acceptable bar they could find. 

A slow, almost jazzy rendition of of an old rock song was being played on the stage, and although crowded with patrons, the place was fairly docile compared to anything Queen might be accustomed to. The band’s flamboyant dress caught many an eye, but to Lena’s surprise, the four remained quiet and reserved over the course of sipping their drinks.  

“Care to dance darling?” Freddie asked when the grizzled old man on the stage began to sing a swaying melody. 

Accepting his request, Lena let herself be led into the midst of a small collection of other couples dancing. It felt weird to slow dance like this, regardless of the fact that she was dancing with a famous rockstar. The song was shorter than Lena had expected it to be, but at a rustling of the mic and screeching of a stool across the floor, Lena looked up to see Brian situating himself on said stool with the old man’s guitar. Freddie almost giggled as he rolled his eyes. Brian’s accent caught the attention of everyone in the room as he introduced himself, and began to play. It was a song unlike any of the ones they had played in their accompaniment of Mott and the Hopple earlier that night, but an acoustic song that triggered in Lena’s memory, but she couldn’t remember from where. 

“Can I cut in?” Roger’s voice sounded at her shoulder. 

Freddie winked in response, and expertly spun Lena around to land squarely in Roger’s grip. 

Lena was not particularly surprised to find herself here, based on what she had heard about the drummer’s illustrious reputation. And she supposed that one dance couldn’t hurt. 

Roger certainly did not have the same sort of elegance that Lena was used to in dancing partners, but this was not to say he could not dance. His hand on her waist, the other hand in hers felt electric, not something she had foreseen. In spinning circles they danced wordless around the room, Brian’s voice filling up the room, like a warm feeling bubbling over. For some unidentifiable reason, this moment felt more real than any she had experienced in the past decade. 

Brian’s song ended, but he began another, this one too eliciting a tender feeling of belonging in Lena’s chest. She wanted to focus on the song being played, the unusual familiarity it played in her heart, but for some reason she could not keep her attention on that. Instead, she noticed the way the warm light fell on Roger’s hair made it appear more ginger than blonde, and she supposed it did the same to hers. She wondered if it clashed badly with her orange top. 

She found herself shaken at this thought of worrying at her appearance. For one, she was supposed to be their employee. For two, this was not time in her life for allowing her feelings to interrupt her daily discourse. She was shaken out of this string of thought when she felt Roger’s fingers on the thin strip exposed skin between her top and bell bottoms. She guessed he had felt her tense at the contact, for the touch immediately vanished and his conversation and eye contact faltered. 

For the remainder of the song Lena recognized a certain, careful hesitance in a his words. A hesitance for which she was grateful. As the song concluded, Roger detached himself and pulled her from the dance floor grasping her hand in his. 

By the time they reached John and Freddie, Brain had also removed himself from the stage. Roger dropped her hand as they neared the group.

“As wonderful as that was, really Brian, was that all together necessary?” Roger asked.

“About as necessary as your dancing with our new tour manager.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Lena said, noticing a slight blush rise in Roger’s cheeks, “I thought they were both wonderful. Roger,” she said looking at each in turn, “you’re a fine dancer, and Brain your non rock and roll voice is absolutely lovely.”

Later that night when they exited the bar Lena was filled with a joy and anticipation for the coming months. She had decided that she like them all immensely and could not wait to partake in whatever adventures the might encounter. But her eyes kept flickering back to Roger, to his blonde hair and clear blue eyes. How unlike he was to anyone she had before deemed as worthy of her time. WHether he was actually worth her time she did not know, but as of now he had not really lived up to his reputation of being an absolute player, and she wondered if it was all rumors. Those rumors had to come from somewhere though. 

On a what Lena presumed to be the last running bus of the night, that Freddie had insisted on riding, the five of them sat together, accompanied only one other, only mildly sketchy looking man. She wondered what that man thought of their little posse. Brian and Freddie with their dark hair and abstract hairstyles, joking with John, who was looking like a Renaissance painting. And then there was the blonde man, looking almost too pretty to be included with the rest of them, that kept shooting glances at the blonde girl. As much as Roger thought that Lena didn’t see those stolen glances, she saw them, and wasn’t sure if she should return the gaze. As they exited the bus a block from their hotel, she felt Roger’s hand at her back, and at every other excuse he could seem to find to touch her in a casual way, he took.

As Lena rummaged for their room keys from her briefcase, they walked into the hotel, it’s green walls reflecting the light to further establish that it was most definitely the mid nineteen seventies. She led the way to their rooms, giving them each their respective keys. She dropped Roger’s into his hand and felt herself hesitate for a fraction of a second, her hand almost imperceptibly hovering over his.

Then she retracted her hand, flashed him a smile and slipped into her own room, pressing her back against the door. This was ridiculous, she thought, why was her heart thudding in her chest? Why did her palms feel like they were buzzing with energy? Why did she have butterflies in her stomach? 

-

Part 2 - 20 November 1974: Live at the Rainbow

It had been almost eight months since she had met them. Eight months which had brought her immense joy and had been an emotional roller coaster.  She felt more real, as if she were are real member of society, not someone just floating on the edges, despite the fact that she recognized that this group was far from living what one might consider to be the average life. 

Their American tour had been cut short when Brian had fallen sick with hepatitis, but the band had insisted that they loved her too much to let her go so soon. And she really must come back “across the pond” with them. Really she must, Freddie had insisted. And, “what would they do without her” Deaky had asked. So with seeing no good reason not to, she updated her passport, had her company transfer her, and followed four hooligans with big hair and too much sound equipment across an ocean. For the first months there she spent most of her time bouncing between the boy’s houses, random hotels and other crew members couches. Then she found a little flat that overlooked the city, a little place that was just in her price range and fit her minimalist standard. Mostly, it was just very surreal to be here in this century, with the way the way it was so different than home, yet so much the same. 

Not all of her time was spent with the band, as her company elected to keep her quite busy, but frankly, she did not mind. She still had feelings to sort out with regards to the band. And furthermore, too much time spent with them could be exhausting. They loved having her there, taking her out to their favorite clubs, or to play smaller gigs or to just run around the city causing havoc. There were country drives and meeting everyone’s families. Lena was not sure exactly why they all liked her so much, but she gave up asking after Freddie’s mother informed her that she had never seen Roger so happy in all the time she had known him. 

That fact itself was the whole reason she supposed she was still here. There was something between Lena and the blonde drummer. Nothing had happened, there had only been graspings of her hand as they ran down empty streets or catching around the waist before she became enveloped in a crowd of fans, but still there was something there in the way he treated her with uttermost respect and cheerful teasing. 

Now she stood stage side, watching Freddie twirl around the stage for the second night in a row, as he theatrically whirled his outfit. . Brian looking like a great white bird with his long white sleeves that she could not understand how they did not hinder his playing. Deaky danced his little Disco Deaky dance. And Roger was out there being Roger. Despite the fact that the show had barely begun, the lights having just risen to reveal the band to the crowd, Roger looked like he was already sweaty and like he would soon be regretting the outfit he had haphazardly chosen to wear as it slipped off his shoulders. He had been in a particularly awful mood prior to going on, but had still stopped and squeezed her hand before running on stage. 

She watched as she always watched, just barely out of view, a figure in the shadows. Tonight she almost longed to be in the crowd due to the sheer energy in the room. This performance was too iconic to not want to be experiencing every moment of it to its fullest extent. They filtered through the same set they had the night before, everything being played just different enough when live to make it all the more fantastic. Even from her vantage point Roger was becoming increasingly more annoyed as the night went on, although about what she could not determine. But it only fueled his ability to sound wonderful. She still didn’t understand how he could sing normally that one gritty way, but then moments later sing in that high falsetto. His drum solo was spectacular that night, outrageous as he could possibly make it. In fact, everything about that night was spectacular.

That is until at the set’s end he destroyed the drum set, trashing it, sending Deaky scampering away from him and the other two keeping their distance. He swaggered off the stage, obvious annoyance still in his posture. When he reached her though, a grin lit his face and he was laughing almost manically. 

“You okay Rog?”

“Never been better! Now let’s go. Get outta here.”

“Are you sure you’re good?” Brian said slinging his guitar behind him as Freddie and Deaky appeared behind him.

“Just got a little excited is all. Now come on. Let’s get outta here. I need a drink.”

Everyone looked at each other and then back at Roger. 

“Let’s just avoid that again, shall we?” Lena said, “That just makes for some annoying paperwork and other various things in replacing stuff.”

Roger only rolled his eyes and stalked away and the others followed after giving Lena apologetic looks. Lena thought she heard Brian beginning to scold Roger for talking to her that way, saying, “You really ought to be nicer to her man, especially if-”

“I don’t and there’s no ‘if’ statements happening anywhere near her, now will you be quiet!” 

Their arguments faded and became indistinguishable. Lena gave a soft snort. Of course this was about her. Roger had been in mood he thought he hid well ever since he had caught sight of her dancing with some guy at a club last week. Which arguably, she had done for the explicit purpose of seeing how he would react, but she was starting to become annoyed by his behaviour. She pondered this while she waited on them to collect their things. After the usual eternity of waiting they met her by the back doors to the theatre and prepared to exit.

As soon as the doors opened a wave of high screams washed over them. Lena plunged into the crowd after the band, attempting to allow herself to almost blend in as to not draw attention. She had become fairly good at this in the past months, but every once in a while she would allow too much of a distance to fall between her and the band, separating them. Realizing that this was exactly what had occured in the midst of this crowd that had previously inhabited the Rainbow, she felt a small twinge of panic in her stomach. 

But, just as on many previous occasions, she felt someone latch onto her wrist, dragging her through the crowd. It was of course Roger, looking more annoyed than he usually did after any occasion of saving her from groupies. 

“Jesus woman, you have really got to get better at not being lost in the crowd. Why are you so afraid of being seen with us?” he whisper yelled into her ear over the noise of the crowd.

“I would just rather not be photographed and have my face plastered on the covers of newspapers. You know that.”

“But you’re our tour manager, it would be perfectly normal for the press to have a field day in discovering that a woman could possibly figure out how to effectively manage us,” he said sarcastically.

Lena climbed into the car he held open for her, “I would hardly say I’m you tour manager anymore, I just happen to be allowed into all of the places because you guys want me to. And I answer questions of people who have very specific questions about all the band’s specific needs. A job that could be done by anyone. Or frankly not at all.”

“Don’t be ridiculous darling,” Freddie interrupted, “We absolutely adore you and you are a necessary part of our team.”

The rest of the car ride back to the Freddie’s was uncharacteristically quiet. Roger had fallen back into his sulky mood and the others seemed to follow suit. Upon arrival at Freddie’s there was a small party already in full swing, but nothing compared to the normal status of Freddie’s parties, but still, Lena wrinkled her nose; she was not in the mood to deal with these sorts of people. 

“I saw that look Lena. Why do you always turn up your nose at my parties?” Freddie asked.

“Because they are exhausting. And I would currently love to go home.”

“No, do stay, you always leave early. I will personally mix you your favorite drink.”

Lena rolled her eyes but agreed and followed them into the house. Roger was still sulky and tracked too closely on her heels. Everything was in a constant state of motion in Freddie’s house, an abomination of existence for anyone who was already tired or not in the mood for a party. Even Freddie personally mixing her drink did not convince her to commit to the the swing of the party. 

She found herself alone with her drink, a little bitter after she had dumped a couple extra shots in. Lena wandered upstairs and entered Freddie’s marvelous library. She ran her fingers across the rows and rows of books, occasionally pulling one from its place. One of her favorite things about this library was the tall french doors that opened on to a small balcony. Picking her way through the shadowed room she hesitated in surprise when she saw there was already someone on the balcony. 

But the now slightly limp hair gave the figure away as being Roger and she ventured onto the balcony with him. When the doors squealed on their hinges Roger whirled, about to spout profanities at whoever dared to disturb his peace. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he said before leaning his elbows back on the wide railing.

“Why are you up here?”

“Because I don’t feel like being cheerful. I would much rather wallow in my misery by myself.”

“Well that is no fun at all. Let me join you in your misery,” Lena said crossing the balcony and resting her elbows next to his.

Roger was silent in response and Lena decided to let him be until he decided he had something to say. This lasted for a few long moments before Lena realized he was going to be indifferent and ignore her.

“Roger, why are you being like this.”

“Like what. I’m being exactly me.”

“No you’re not. The man I met eight months ago wouldn’t turn down a party. Especially after a show like that. And the man I heard rumors about before that wouldn’t turn down the prospect of all those beautiful A-List actresses down there.”

“Oh wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know. I seem to have never met that man.”

“And did it ever occur to you why that might be?” he said, looking at her, mild frustration creeping into his voice.

“Well, I could give you reasons. But I think I’d rather you tell me yourself.”

“Oh you’re so exhausting.”

“No I’m not. I’m just waiting for you.”

“To what, tell you that I’m in love with you? And I couldn’t stand the thought of being with anyone but you. From the moment I met you.”

Lena bit her lip, her smile lighting up her eyes, “That was more than I was expecting. But essentially yes,” she breathed.

“I can’t drown it out anymore. I always do try to ignore the way you make me feel. But as dumb as it sounds, I can’t.”

“Rog-“

No listen. You didn’t know me before. You make me better. It’s so much easier to do this touring thing when you’re here. 

“Rog.”

“What?”

“Just kiss me.”

And he did. It was not the sort of kiss she had imagined more times than she cared to admit. He didn’t ask permission or hint at any reservation. Lena knotted her fingers in his hair and sighed in satisfaction that finally after all these months of wondering, she had been correct in her presumptions. Roger gripped her face, more careful she guessed, than he had ever kissed anyone before. It was like a buzzing of electricity that had been exactly meant to arc over these certain pieces that were Roger and Lena. 

The french doors flew open with a slam, rattling the panes in the glass.

“Ah-ha!” I knew it!” a delighted, slightly tipsy Deaky shouted, his girlfriend Veronica in tow behind him. 

Lena jumped backward in response to this intrusion, while Roger barely seemed to notice. 

“Really Deaks, you had to interrupt.”

“This calls for a band meeting I think,” and without pausing, Deaky rushed to the edge of the balcony and called down to the crowd below, “Fred! Bri! You’re needed up here immediately!”

Lena looked down to see many heads turn upwards in response. From that far away she wondered if people could see that her face had turned tomato red. Unlikely. But still. Embarrassing.

To everyone’s surprise Freddie’s voice sounded back. A path cleared for him and he was followed by the large head of hair that was Brian. Lena was trying to configure her way out of the situation and extract herself before anyone else could come persecute her about making out with a pretty rock star, but Roger would have none of that. Now that he had kissed her and gained her permission to openly show his affection, it did not seem to matter to him that this was altogether an uncomfortable situation. 

Deaky was still giggling when they heard Brain’s clogs on the tiled floor outside the library and Freddie’s merry laughter. 

“What is the emergency darlings? Don’t tell me someone has died. We were just getting into the groove of things.”

“No. SO much better than that,” Deaky laughed, brushing his hair out of his face, “You will not guess what I walked in on.”

Brain immediately grinned. “Based on Lena’s flaming red face and Roger’s uncharacteristic silence, I could probably exactly guess.”

-

 Part 3 - Early 1975: Somewhere In London

In only a couple weeks they would be off to a recording studio in the country. Times were changing as the band’s fame escalated and Lena’s relationship with Roger took a more serious turn. At this exact moment she found herself standing on the doorstep of narrow white house, three stories tall, slid in among other almost identical little homes. She had arrived in an unusual moment of sunshine where the rain did not berate her to go inside. She lifted her her hand to rap on the door, wondering why in the world Roger would have so mysteriously invited her here. 

A moment later the door opened to reveal Roger’s beaming face. He almost buzzed with excitement as she entered the house, unable to stop babbling. To Lena’s surprise the house was vacant of all furniture and empty of any proof of anyone residing there. Despite the small outside appearance, the light white of the walls and floor to ceiling windows made it appear open and large. As Roger led her up the stairs she noticed her palms were sweating with stress; there could be approximately one reason why he would have brought her to this empty house; a house in perfect location to be accessible to both of their current places of employment, a place in her favorite part of town, a place that exuded hominess. 

When they reached the top floor and the tour ended in what was likely the master bedroom as it opened out onto a small french doored balcony, Roger stopped his chattering and turned to face her seriously.

“Lena love, I know that this is weird to ask. And I do acknowledge your full right to say no. Because if I were you I would say no too. But I love you and I want to spend as much time as I can with you. And so I think that maybe, the best way to do that, is if you would give me the pleasure of moving in with me?”

She knew that he had been planning to ask her this, or at least some version of this for some time now. And she thanked the Lord that he had not asked the other question.   His hands were on her arms, blue eyes looking at her with a yearning for her to respond positively. With deep desperation she wanted to say yes, but she still felt that fear that it would all shatter violently pulling her to say no. If she said yes, everything would change and there would be no avoiding that she was Roger’s girl, there would be no avoiding the terror that was the paparazzi. But if she said no she would lose the best thing that had happened to her, she would lose this love of her life. 

“Say something Lena,” Roger whispered.

“I-,” her mind was whirling with her mild terror and selfish reasons for not wanting to fully commit to this relationship. “Of, course Rog,” she heard herself saying, “I would love to live with you.”

After a sigh of relief he leaned in to kiss her, grinning as his mouth met hers, and instantly Lena felt reassured. It would be worth it, all the craziness, all the people, it would be worth it. 

He suddenly pulled away from the kiss and almost skipped across the room to where the a pristinely white record player sat, embedded carefully into the wall as to not attract attention from the rest of the room.  She watched him with interest as he pulled a 45 record from the bag she had noticed had been present in the house when she arrived. Before he dropped the needle down he grinned at her. 

The old jazz filled the room, instantly flashing her back to the memories of where she had first heard such music. Roger ventured back to her, “Care to dance Lena?”

She melted into his arms, letting him steer them around the empty room. “This song, how did you find it?”

“Brian. It took him a while, but he was eventually able to scour up a forty five. It’s some song from the fifties. I’ve really never even heard of the artist.”

Lena smiled, closing her eyes. Maybe she had heard this song somewhere before meeting Roger, but now it would be her and Roger’s song, a reminder of their time spent together, whether it be of awkward first meetings or dances in empty houses that would soon be theirs together. Dancing around the room Lena wondered how she could have possibly ended up here, after all the things her life had offered her and thrust upon her, how could she have ended up in the arms of a gorgeous rockstar with a heart of gold and eyes like pools of the clearest water she’d ever seen. Yet here she was, through it all, they were here together. 

-

Part 4 - Mid-1975: Ridge farm

Lena killed the engine of the car far out of sight of the old farmhouse she knew to be Ridgefarm. Only a few windows remained lit, but she focused on the one she knew to be Roger’s. Freddie had explicitly forbade anybody but the band and recording personnel to be present during this last couple weeks of recording because he wanted there to be no distractions in their attempts to finish this album. Lena understood that, but sincerely doubted that the band was accomplishing as much as Freddie insisted they were without distractions. So Lena had elected that the best way to see Roger was to sneak into the Ridgefarm grounds at various times throughout their stay there. Shutting her car door silently Lena reflected that this action was exceptionally unlike her, sneaking into somewhere to see a boy. But much of what she these days was unlike the way she imagined herself to be; it was not all bad, just different. 

When she reached below Roger’s window she hoised herself up the trellis and through the vines growing on the side of the old building and up to the glass. Peering in the room, the appeared to be empty, although the lamp was on. With a careful push she slid the window open with minimal noise and slipped inside. The door to the room was shut, but she caught snippets of the conversation from the rooms below and guessed that it would be a long while before this particular band discussion was over. 

Lena laid down on the bed, wrapped herself in quilt and stared at the ceiling. The quilt smelled distinctly of Roger and Lena felt a wave of relaxation wash over her. Despite how odd her life had become and how she found herself doing the strangest of things to spend time with him or avoid being pursued by paparazzi, it was joy to be doing such things by her own desire rather than spending her every waking moment dedicated to her job as she had for too long spend doing. She lay contemplating this and day dreaming of the summer days left to spend with Roger and the rest of them, before long drifting off to sleep.

“Roger Meddows Taylor! Get your ass up here!” a voice laughed loudly as the bedroom door slammed, causing Lena to sit straight up on the bed and stare at Brian with wide eyes. Roger burst into the room a moment later. 

“What!” he demanded harshly, and then concluded with a soft “Oh” when he saw Lena, a slight grin on his lips. 

“You send me up to get your dumb lyrics and proceed to forget that you illegally, by Freddie’s rules anyway, invited Lena. That’s a whole new level of forgetfulness, even for you Rog,” Brian grinned.

“Really Roger, I did tell you I was coming,” Lena said, pretending to pout. 

“I really am sorry love. It’s just this discussion,” he looked pointedly at Brian, “that we are having over the b-side of our single.”

Before anyone else could respond Freddie’s voice called up the stairs, “What’s going on up there? We have things to do you know.”

“Lena was just-” Brian began to call back before Roger slapped a hand over Brian’s mouth.

“Lena? Lena isn’t supposed to be here?” Freddie’s voice returned, coming closer now. He stepped into the room a moment later frowning at Lena. “Really you couldn’t stay away for just two weeks?”

“Well arguably, it’s been longer than two weeks and the time you all have spend recording this thing have been months beyond that.” 

“Valid. But darling we have still so much to do.”

“Well from the sounds of it you all were doing nothing but arguing over whose songs are most important-”

“Potentially, but now that you’re here, new subject, because I finally procured your birthday present,” Freddie said. 

Before Lena could respond that her birthday was literally months ago, Deaky’s voice sounded from the floor below.

“I’ll just be down here drinking tea whenever you all are ready to come back down.”

Lena snorted slightly and followed the others down to the kitchen.

“Oh hello Lena. How are you?” Deaky said, seemingly without surprise to see her.

“Lovely thank you.”

“Now,” Freddie said pulling a box from a cupboard, “I was looking for just the right thing for your birthday, but then Roger got you that gorgeous red leather jacket, and there was no way I could one up that, so I was just waiting for something perfect to come along. Then the other day I was realizing that you in no way visibly affiliate with the band. Which I know is on purpose, but I thought you should have a little something that is from us, as Queen, to you.”

“So this really is from all of us, although it was Freddie’s idea,” Deaky said.

“Go on, open it now,” Brian said pushing the box toward Lena.

Lena shook her head at them, grinning, and untied the ribbon that held the box closed. From inside she pulled a simple jean jacket with “QUEEN” printed repeatedly vertically on the back in the typical Queen logo font. 

“See darling, now you have a little bit of representation of the band, and because you are a Queen,” Freddie said excitedly.

“Thank you all so much, I absolutely love it.” 

“But not as much as you love me?” Roger said grinning.

“Yes thank you Rog,” Brain said, “We all definitely need you to confirm that she loves you.”

Brian sniggered and ducked his head as both Roger and Lena simultaneously smacked him.

Freddie ignored the exchange; “Go on, put it on!”

So Lena did and paraded the jacket around for all to see, and even Paul, who had unfortunately come in to see what all the noise was about gave his approval. And Lena had to admit that it was the perfect gift from the band; it was a very high quality jacket that was sure to last decades and gave her a fun but none too outrageous association with the band. Well perhaps it was a bit much to have “Queen” stamped repeatedly vertically across your back, but still, she loved the jacket. 

“Really though, now that you have that finally, get out, you’re disrupting the flow of our recording process.” Freddie said.

“You’re not going to at least let her stay the night and not travel back in the dark?” Deaky asked somewhat sarcastically.

“Because Lena staying the night with Roger is something we would all be hearing about anyway-” Brian started.

Lena genuinely hit him with actual force this time, “Will you stop it?”

Brain just sniggered as Freddie began, “Well I suppose if you stayed that would give Roger some motivation to actually cook something delightful for breakfast, because thus far he has only been helpful in making approximately one pot of coffee.

“See Rog is the best cook out of all of us,” Deaky explained to Lena, “But he only really is willing to cook when he has you to impress.”

“Oh sure,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. 

 “It is true, I have left these hooligans to fend for themselves,” Roger said, but with you here I could be convinced to impress you all with a gourmet breakfast.”

Freddie clapped his hands together, “It’s settled then, you may stay!”

“Thanks dad,” Lena said sarcastically. 

That night Lena slept soundly wrapped in Roger’s arms, happy to be here not only with Roger, but with the rest of them, whom she now regarded as her family. 

The next morning Lena found herself alone in the bed but could faintly pick up the smell of coffee wafting up from below. Padding down the stairs of the drafty old house she made her way into the kitchen where Roger was well on his way to a strong display of his cooking skills. 

Lena stole a piece of bacon and went on her way to pouring coffee as Roger hummed some unfamiliar song that she guessed must be a part of their new album.

“How did you sleep love?” Roger asked.

“Quite good actually. You?”

“Wonderful because you were there.”

Lena rolled her eyes and sat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen’s island. 

“What is the plan for today then?”

“Well we are still recording, so I suppose you could sit in on that if Freddie will allow it. He has been very particular about this album. Especially this one song we are working on. I think you’ll like it though.” 

And like it she did. They were still perfecting little pieces of it, but it was for the most part done, the masterpiece that was Bohemian Rhapsody. Standing behind the glass watching Freddie’s one last little retake, or so he said, Lena felt the gravity of the moment, realizing she was witnessing history being made. Roger came up behind her and put his head on her shoulder, wrapping his arms about her waist.

“Quite impressive isn’t it?”

“It amazing,” she breathed. 

They continued to listen, Lena becoming increasingly more impressed with everyone’s contribution to the song, from John’s bass that she just barely heard, Roger’s falsettos, Brian’s overall aesthetic and just Freddie being Freddie. 

“What did you think of that Lena, dear?” Freddie asked when he came back into the sound booth.

“It was absolutely incredible Fred, I’m so excited to hear the whole album.”

“Well I can’t spoil the whole thing for you, but I suppose we could share one more with you. And because its you, I’ll play the whole thing for you live. Come along in with me.”

“If you say so.”

Lena followed Roger and Freddie into the studio, and sat down on an amp as Freddie sat at the piano. Roger sat on the ground next to her in such a way that he let his head rest in the curve of her waist. Lena gasped Roger’s hand as Freddie began the song,  and Lena again wondered what a marvel it was to be able to watch Freddie play. 

“Love of my life, you've hurt me

You've broken my heart and now you leave me

Love of my life, can't you see?

Bring it back, bring it back

Don't take it away from me, because you don't know

What it means to me”

By the end of the song Lena had to hastily wipe a tear from her eye as Freddie looked up from the piano grinning. 

“That was beautiful Fred.”

“Thank you dear. I’m quite fond of it.” He paused as if thinking, “Now I’ll be going now but I’m calling you,” he pointed at Roger, “back in to actually get stuff done with the rest of us at noon. So you,” he pointed at Lena, “will need to be gone by then.”

“That’s perfect, I have somewhere to be tonight anyways,” Lena said, nodding to Freddie’s instructions as he left the room.

“You know you really don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Roger said looking up at her.

“I know, but I figure that you guys have magic to perform and I have a long list of things to get done this weekend.”

“I would not say its magic, but maybe close,” he said half grinning, “Do you want to do anything while you’re here?”

“No, I just came to spend time with you and the boys. So whatever you have in mind is perfect.”

“Okay then, I’ll give you the full tour of the farm and we’ll see who we run into.”

Lena stood up and offered Roger her hand, but as she stepped back to shift her weight to pull Roger up she caught her foot in a stray crash cymbal stand and her, Roger and it fell with a loud cacophony of noise. 

They landed with Roger’s nose almost touching Lena’s, his body just propped up over hers.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I might have though you did that on purpose, just to have this fine opportunity to kiss me,” Roger teased.

Lena rolled her eyes, “You wish Taylor. But I will still take the chance that has presented itself”.

Their kiss only lasted for a split second though, as Brian rushed into the studio, “I heard a giant crash and worried if you- Oh. Of course,” he said stopping when he saw Roger nearly on top of Lena on the floor.

“I swear this is significantly more innocent than it looks,” Lena said tilting her head in the direction she knew Brian to be standing, despite not being able to actually see him. 

“Sure it is. But either way, let's keep the making out in the studio to a minimum please,” he said sarcastically as proceeded directly back to wherever he had been before.

Roger pecked Lena on the lips once before rising to his feet and offering her his hand, “No falling this time.”

“Right. Now I would like a tour of this place you all have spent so much time recently.”

“One tour of Ridge Farm, coming right up!” Roger said, and grabbed her hand as he pulled her though the mess of instruments and sound equipment that would produce Lena’s most favorite Queen album.

-

Part 5 - November 1975 - Home

It was an early morning where Lena had woken up and been unable to fall back asleep. Padding through the house that was now her and Roger’s, she put on some coffee and retrieved the muffins that she had made the previous weekend. There was nothing better than these sort of mornings, where she was in her happy place of knowing Roger was just in the next room and she could sit quietly, enjoying her alone time. She sipped her coffee and sat down at the upright piano that Roger had insisted exist within the house if for no other reason than to have it fit the aesthetic of the house. She did know how to play, and unknowest to Roger, quiet well in fact. She had noticed the sheet music that Freddie had left there several months ago when he had come by to show Roger final touches of a piece he had been finishing. 

Lena had forgotten about the music until just now but was elated to find that the music Freddie had left was the sheet music for the beginnings of Bohemian Rhapsody. With the feeling of the keys almost too foreign under her fingertips, she began to play, following Freddie’s gorgeous handwriting and trying to remember what the actual song sounded like, because this version still lacked the magic that it was in its finality. Part way through the song she heard the floor boards creek behind her, and envisioned Roger to be leaning in the doorway behind her. As the song finished he came and sat down beside her on the piano bench.

“I did not know that you played.”

“I don’t. Well I don’t anymore.”

“You should, because for that being such of rough draft of BoRhap,” he said gesturing, to the sheet music, “and you having heard the actual song only half a dozen times, you sure made that your own, yet still Freddie’s melody remained there.”

“Well I would actually argue that I have heard the song way more than half a dozen times,” she said leaning her head on his shoulder, “now that the full album has been released the radio stations will not stop playing it.”

“Still, you are quite talented love,” he said as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to his side.

“I’ve had a lot of practice is all.”

“Whatever you say dear.”

For a moment they were still before Lena broke the silence and tilted her face up to Roger’s, “Don’t tell Fred I was playing his song? Because then he will insist I play it for him and, ah, that is just not a good time and is something that I don’t want to encounter.”

Roger smiled down at her, “You need to give yourself more credit, especially if you can play it so well on the very first time looking at it. And there’s no need to impress us all, we already know you’re a wonderful human being.”

Lena rolled her eyes, “I may be a wonderful human being as you say, but I am not a wonderful musician on the level of the four of you, and all the other crazy talented people I’ve met because of you.”

“Darling you really must stop worrying about things like that, we’re all just people who have happened to been put in the spotlight.”

“Yes, in the spotlight of the centuries. People are going to look back at your music and be like wow, those guys were the real rockstars.”

“I like that you think I’m a rockstar,” he said, leaning just a bit closer to her, grinning mischievously.

She knew where this was going but played along, “Well you are a rockstar. And a famous one.”

“Oh just enough to be dangerous. And to attract people like you.”

“I think you would do that regardless of whether you were a famous rockstar or not,” she said, remaining absolutely motionless and just barely failing to give him the ‘okay’ to kiss her.

“Hmm maybe, but I would have never met you if that were the case.”

“This is perhaps true,” Lena said grinning, still not closing the distance between them. She immensely enjoyed that even this far into their relationship he still waited for permission to touch her, to kiss her. 

“But,” she started, now leaning in and slowly blinking, “You never know with these sort of things, the things that are meant to happen, just sort of seem to happen you know.”

“And I am glad they do my dearest Lena,” he said as he kissed her.

It was the slow, untidy morning kiss that Lena had become so accustomed to these past several months. She turned to face him better and wound her fingers in his now almost long hair while he pulled her closer. Pressed up against each other on the piano bench like this was the sort of place she wished she could exist is forever, for all eternity just be here on this bench sharing slow, soft, kisses that spilled away from her mouth and down her neck. 

Lena exhaled sharply as she felt Roger’s teeth barely skim the exposed skin of her collarbone where her nightshirt had begun to slip at Roger’s prompting.

Roger pulled away from her at that, although she really wished that he would cease being so polite and perfect all the time. Lena smiled slowly and rolled her eyes, “You know, I will not break like a china doll.”

“Oh I know, I think you are exactly opposite of breakable, I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Roger, we have this conversation literally everytime we do this, nothing about you makes me uncomfortable.”

“Right then,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her again, this time with far more urgency.

“But,” she said pulling away, “You really have to be going this morning. You promised Fred you wouldn’t be late for another press interview.”

“Oh he’ll live,” Roger said, running kisses along her jaw, his hands gripping her waist.

“I’m sure he will. But you really did promise.”

“But I promised to love you forever far before I promised him I wouldn’t be late,” he mumbled into Lena’s neck.

Lena smiled and pushed him back, gripping his face in her hands. “I know. But you really must be going.”

He took hold of her hands in his own, pulling them from his face and holding them tightly, “But I also must really be spending my time where it matters, which is with you.”

“Stop being silly, and just get going. There’s coffee already going and muffins still left from the weekend.”

“You know what also could be continued from the weekend-”

“Rog no,” Lena finally stood up laughing, “You have got to go.”

By the time Roger had put himself together and downed a cup of coffee, Lena had successfully made it through several more iterations of Bohemian Rhapsody and could now play it with her own flair with ease.

“See,” Roger called from the entryway where she could see him buttoning up his coat, “You are absolutely quite a talented musician.”

Lena left the piano, carefully setting down the cover over the keys and padded to the entryway. “Go have fun. Remember you’re supposed to be doing outrageous rockstar things and having all sorts of ridiculous adventures.”

“It’s a press interview, how fun can it really be? Plus you won’t be there.”

Lena rolled her eyes as he pecked her on the lips before turning to go. Before he could get far tho she grabbed the collar of his coat and kissed him again with a little more force than really necessary;

“I think I will be home from work when you are. In any case though, just remind me of where we left off on the piano bench when you get home, won’t you?”

He smirked at her as he reached for the door, “You bet I will.”

-

Part 6 - 5 February 1976 - New York City

         Winter mornings in New York would never be her favorite, but she could not say that she had not missed them in the past couple years she had spent in London. There was just something particular about the way New York busied itself and the way people took in the rare spot of sunshine while simultaneously wrapping themselves tighter in their coats. Lena was no exception to this trend and wished she had not let the sight of the sun deceive her into choosing an outfit that was more aesthetic focused than functionality focused.

With a pleasant feeling of being back at home in her stomach Lena glanced up at the marquee sign that simply read “Queen” and then in smaller lettering “8pm Sold Out” before walking up to the glass doors of the Beacon Theatre in hopes that there was someone in the gorgeous lobby beyond. Perhaps this was not the best way to gain access to the locked theatre, but she was really hoping to not have to go on a hunt for the actual band entrance, besides, it was so much more fun to walk in the front doors like everyone else.

Despite living in New York for some time previously to joining Queen in London, Lena had never actually been inside the Beacon Theatre and had sort of hoped to be able to enter through the front doors and experience it like the rest of the public because she had heard that one must experience it in full in order to get the best effect. With no one in sight in the lobby she had given up knocking on the glass in hopes that some crew member would recognize her from afar due to her red leather jacket. After a solid half an hour of standing there, a time in which she could have most defiantly have found another entrance, a roadie finally passed close enough to the front doors to recognize her and let her in.

“Lena dude, how long have you been standing out here?” the fluffy haired roadie asked.

“Only a half an hour. Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said and continued his way.

Thankful to finally be out of the February cold, Lena paused once inside to unzip her jacket and run her fingers through her hair. Part of the image she was portraying today as the rock n’ roll girlfriend depended heavily on the white, fading Led Zeppelin t-shirt she had tucked into her jeans and there was no reason to conceal it beneath her red jacket. In her momentary pause Lena took in the extravagance of the lobby, imagining how it would be tonight, packed with people eager to enter the auditorium and see the one and only, Queen.

The lobby itself rose to a high vaulted ceiling where an immaculate chandelier hung, throwing warm light all over the room. Walking into the auditorium Lena was immediately thankful that she had been able to come through the main entrance and see the theatre from this vantage point. The high ceilings mirrored that of the lobby, but it was far more beautiful than the lobby. The walls emitted an almost glowing gold, etched in with various spurts of red decorations. The seats were the same vibrant red as the curtains on the stage, perfectly emulating the roaring twenties feel within which it had been built. It was all but silent and completely still in the auditorium and she guessed that the band had concluded their soundcheck early, or more likely, not even started. The entirety of the band’s equipment was on the stage, but there was not a soul in sight and Lena wondered where on earth they had gotten to and how long it would be before they remembered that they were supposed to be meeting her here at nine.

Lena walked around the theatre while she waited and gazed up at the paintings on the walls, studying them, wishing she could see them closer. She studied them with such concentration that she did not even notice Brian enter onto the stage until he began playing his guitar, the chords that so distinctly defined Bohemian Rhapsody echoing beautifully in the otherwise empty auditorium. She whipped around to face the stage at the sound and Brian only smiled in greeting and kept playing.

 She walked up to the far side of the stage and rested her elbows on it and watched Brian play, his big hair drooping down around his face as he focused on his guitar. She considered for the hundredth time that week how incredibly blessed she was to be able to tour with this band and watch them as they made history.

“Hey! No ogling other rock stars Lena!” Roger’s voice said from a stage wing before he emerged.

“See but you don’t play guitar, and there’s just something about guitarists…” Lena teased as Roger emerged from the wings.

“Does that include bassists?” John said joining in as he emerged from the same wing and spun around as if showing off his bass that was slung over him.

“You betcha Deaky,” Lena said flashing him a smile.

Roger frowned in a way that Lena found hysterical and she snorted with laughter in response.

“And what about lead singers darling?” Freddie asked, prancing onto the stage.

“Defiantly goes for lead singers,” Lena said, shooting Roger a smirk.

         “Well then you’ll just have to get a ‘thing’ for drummers too,” Roger huffed as he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips before turning to fetch his coat.

         Lena grabbed his collar before he could turn away fully and kissed him a little deeper, “I think,” she said pausing the kiss, “that you could say I already have ‘a thing’ for a certain drummer.”

         “You too are getting ridiculous in your weird flirting you know,” Deaky said pretending to look at his nails in boredom.

         “Oh I know, it’s all just to annoy the rest of you,” Roger said, detaching himself from Lena. “But now, if we want Lena to give us a tour of the city we really gotta get going.”

         “Don’t you need to like, soundcheck?” Lena asked.

         “That’s for later darling. Now come on, the gold aura of this place is giving me a headache,” Freddie said gesturing.

         “Who would have thought that gold and glam could ever give Fred a headache?” Brain said rolling his eyes.

         “Come on guys, grab your coats we have so much to do and see,” Lena said.

         They followed her out of the otherwise empty auditorium, their laughter and jokes echoing off the walls. Once on the street they settled into being only mildly obnoxious because they knew that at this point in their careers, anyone, anywhere could, and would recognize them. Lena hoped that this day would consist of little interactions with fans but guessed that it could not be completely avoided.

         Mostly Lena was just wanting to show them her city, another piece of who she was aside from just following them around the world for the past couple years. She had decided to show them only a couple of her favorite sites in Manhattan, for her favorite places were in New York were far more secluded and were away from direct integration with busy streets. But there were still many places to venture to that she knew the boys would enjoy by sheer fact that she was the one giving the tour.

         After a few blocks Roger quit his fooling around with the others and joined her in the lead, taking her hand and walking beside her.

         “Thank you for putting up with us my dear.”

         Lena started to respond but Freddie interrupted her, “If she didn’t put up with us, she couldn’t have you.”

         “Yes, thank you Fred,” Lena said rolling her eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that week alone, “But I do love you all dearly and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

         Lena and Roger talked as they wound through the city streets toward Central Park and upon arrival through the park’s long pathways. They walked a little ahead of the other three hand in hand as Lena explained her favorite things about the city and pointed out little pieces and spouted random facts. Even the February cold was not bothersome to her as they walked; she was back in her own environment but now with her favorite collection of people at her side.

         They stopped occasionally for Lena to tell them a story or to buy steaming cups of hot chocolate from an only mildly sketchy looking stand, but they were soon done with their tour of the park.

         “And now for the New York taxi experience all by your lonesomes. Not all that interesting but still kinda an adventure,” Lena said, as she began her attempts to hail a taxi.

         In the process of getting two taxis they were stopped by a couple fans who had recognized the band. But with a taxi waiting Lena was able to avoid being directly interrogated along with the rest of them.

         “You know I was really thinking that we were blending in quite well,” Roger said once they were in their own cab, the other three taking another.

         “You four have a tendency to not blend in anywhere.”

         Roger folded and unfolded his sunglasses in his lap, “I wish we could sometimes. It would be so much easier to go do stuff.”

         “Yeah,” Lena agreed and paused to reflect on how desperately she wished it could be that way, “but it would also be so much less of an adventure that way.”

         “True,” Roger said still playing with his sunglasses.

         “What’s wrong Rog?”

         “Nothing, I just want this to be a fun day for you without the interruption of fans.”

         “Rog it’s fine really. I have been getting way better at dealing with it.”

         “I know,” he said holding her hand, his thumb rubbing circles on it, “it’s just that even still, after all this time you have evaded being truly and terribly ambushed by paparazzi and having to deal with all the fame and all the bad things that come with it. And that’s good yes, but I just don’t want you to be surprised by it when it happens.”

         “I won’t be,” Lena said, wishing that she could ignore the fact that she did not know what would happen in a situation in being ambushed by fans and how already in the situations she had experienced, it had been a struggle to quell her fear. She wished she had a better hold on herself and could control those moments of panic, of being surrounded, the noise and the people all throwing her into a full on anxiety attack.

         In the momentary silence they had arrived at their destination, right outside the Flatiron Building.

         “Come on,” Lena said, shaking of her thoughts and pulling him out of the cab after beating him to paying the driver, “I want to show you my favorite looking building in the city.”

       �� Roger shoved his sunglasses back on and followed her out into the street.

         “I told them to meet us right in front of it, so they should be here any minute,” Lena said, looking around for the other three.

         The three of them spilling obnoxiously out of a cab about a block away caught her attention, and she waved to direct them over. Once all together Lena began giving a full rundown explanation of the history of the Flatiron Building, that only Brian seemed to be listening to with genuine interest.

         “But anyway,” Lena said gesturing up to the tall, slender building, “it’s one of my favorite buildings to see. Because it’s so unusual and fun.”

         “We are also unusual and fun, so all you have to do is bring us everywhere,” Freddie said.

         “I already bring you everywhere. Now come on there should be a cute little shop around here where we can grab some lunch.”

         They turned to follow her as she led the way in the direction of the little café she vaguely remembered as being close by.

         Only a few steps down the street, Roger swore under his breath and quickened his pace.

         “There’s a giant group of people looking suspiciously like paparazzi behind us. Don’t look,” Roger whispered.

         They all looked anyway, and sure enough, there was a group of people trailing behind them all carrying cameras non-discreetly pointing at them, and by their sheer nature attracting attention and making the group following the band ever larger.

         “Dammit. And we were having such a pleasant time by ourselves,” Lena said.

         “You know how you were saying you loved fun and unusual things?” Freddie said, “Well your day just got better.”

         Everyone frowned at him questioningly, with John raising an eyebrow.

         “Everybody run!” Freddie half yelled, and he took off down the street.

         Lena looked at Roger, and then at Brian and John.

         “Well I guess we get to run from them then,” Brian laughed, and spirited away.

         The three left hesitated a second longer before John whispered, “Meet you two back at the theatre for soundcheck. Don’t be late Rog,” and then sprinted down the street after the other two.

         “What does that mean?”

         “It means,” Roger said, “That we are going to take this opportunity and go adventure the city on our own without those three hooligans.”

         “Okay?” Lena said shaking her head, “But first we have to get rid of that crew that is now speedily coming at us.”

         Roger looked back to see the group of paparazzi and now quite large collection of fans running toward them in response to the other three taking off down the street.

         “Let’s go!” Lena shouted as she pulled Roger down the street after her, taking the first turn she could off the main street.

         Unfortunately, as she guessed they would, the crowd behind them followed down the street and it was only after a large collection of many turns that it appeared they had evaded them.

Roger pulled her into a small alley and just has often happens in cliché movies, the remainder of the group that had been following them passed by without noticing that Roger and Lena were there.

Lena was pressed up against Roger’s chest and she could feel him breathing hard after their sprinting several blocks.

“I think,” Lena said holding in a giggle, “that the coast is clear.”

“We could leave now,” Roger said without removing his hands from her waist.

Lena could feel his breathing slowing, but his heart remained at a fluttering pace. She could feel hers doing the same and internally rolled her eyes that the both of them still made the other nervous after all this time.

“We could,” Lena said lifting her face up to his, lips just barely touching his without actually kissing him. 

“Or not…” he whispered, still without kissing her, but with his lips speaking beneath hers. 

“Hmm,” Lena hummed into his lips, reaching up and holding his face with both hands.

Roger closed the microscopic distance that had remained between them, kissing her softly. Despite the fact that the alley they were currently inhabiting smelled atrocious and Lena could feel a part of her brain vaguely wondering about the safety of her red jacket against this wall, she found herself yet again in one of those moments in which she wished she could make time stand still and live the moment forever. 

One of Roger’s hands remained on her back, his fingers creeping under her t-shirt, pulling her closer. His other hand gripped her face, cradling it, urging her closer. The longer they stood there the more heated the kiss became, Lena’s hands pulling at Roger’s hair, pulling him closer as they fell into rhythm with each other. 

After several, long eternities that Lena did not want to end, she detached her lips from his, but with noses still touching and smiled widely.

“You know I really think we should get a move on. I really don’t want to see this makeout session plastered on the front of any magazines.”

Roger licked his swollen lips and grinned at her, “It wouldn’t be that bad would it?”

“Yes it would be. I would never hear the end of it from Freddie. Or Brian. Or Deaky for that matter. He would just nonchalantly happen to be reading that particular magazine every single time I saw him.”

“Hmm, maybe you’re right,” he said, kissing her once more and almost indistinctly mumbling into her lips, “but wouldn’t it be almost worth it?”

“It almost might be,” Lena said while simultaneously pushing down a wave of anxiety at even the thought of seeing herself on a magazine cover. She detached herself from him a little more efficiently this time, leaning back against the wall behind her. 

“Let’s go grab lunch at my favorite little cafe in this part of the city. Then we can head back to the Beacon and make sure you’re on time for soundcheck.”

“There’s plenty of time love. Maybe perhaps so much time that we could find an empty dressing room…”

“Really Rog,” she exclaimed and smacked him on the shoulder, as she turned and dragged them out of the alleyway. 

But after a delicious lunch, a delightful cup of coffee and walking back through the cold New York streets to the Beacon, Lena found herself stumbling after Roger into an empty dressing room, desperately clinging to his lanky frame. She closed the door behind them and fumbled for the lock as Roger pushed her up against the wall, his lips traveling down her neck and then back again.

“Rog,” she said between kisses, “Should we really be doing this… now? Here?”

He pulled away and gave her his signature mischievous grin, “Of course darling, you really must learn to live a little.”

“But,” she spluttered, barely able to form a cohesive sentence as Roger’s hands were all over her, pulling at her clothes as his lips reconnected with her skin, “What about the others? Shouldn’t you be soundchecking approximately now?”

“Yes love, but they can wait. Besides,” he said stopping once more and looking at her, “How will you ever properly be a part of the rock and roll scene if you don’t do it in a dressing room, half drunk and prolonging said band member from being wherever they’re supposed to be?”

“Maybe the issue is that I’m not half drunk yet,” Lena grinned.

“Well that can certainly be resolved,” Roger said and seemed to magically produce a bottle of something from the table beside them and managed to take of the top off without ever removing his body from hers.

“You had this planned from the beginning didn’t you?” Lena said taking a swig of the bottle he handed her. She made a face at the taste but proceeded to take another drink before handing the bottle back to him.

He downed a couple mouthfuls before putting the bottle down and replacing his hand onto her back, “Lena love, you seem to still have such an innocent perception of me. I’m Roger Taylor. There’s a reputation to that name.”

She rolled her eyes, “You are so idiotically full of yourself,” she said as she decided she’d had enough of his ridiculous small talk and jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and attaching herself to him. This time when she kissed him a trace of whatever foul liquid they had both consumed lingered in his mouth, but in a much more pleasant manor than actually drinking it.

They were fully entangled in each other on the couch and both dutifully ignoring the yells of the band looking for Roger. The door handle rattled, and Brian’s voice sounded. 

“Of course,” there was a pause, “I swear to God Taylor. I know you’re in there. Because we can’t find Lena anywhere either. We all saw you guys come back earlier.”

They both remained frozen and silent, with Lena looking at Roger with wide eyes.

“I told you this would happen,” Lena whispered.

“Why are you yelling at that door Brian?” Freddie’s voice chirped.

Lena’s frown deepened. 

“Because. Some blonde couple we know happen to be in there and not ready to sound check like they were supposed to be.”

“Oh, is little Miss Lierens fucking Mr. Taylor in a dressing room?”

“Freddie!” Lena couldn’t help but exclaiming, her voice jumping an octave.

“Ah yes, see, there she is,” he said cheerily.

“Just be on stage in five Roger,” Brian said exasperated, his voice fading down the hall along with Freddie’s fit of giggles.

“I guess we should be going then,” Roger said grinning like an idiot and barely containing giggles himself.

“God why does this keep happening, it’s so embarrassing,” Lena said, maneuvering herself from his grasp. 

Lena shrugged on her red jacket and inspected her reflection. 

How wonderful, she thought, I even look like I’ve been fucking in a dressing room.

Roger came up beside her looking equally discheeled to observe their reflections, She tried to readjust her hair in such a way that it didn’t looks so awful.

“I like your outfit by the way. I didn’t even know you listened to Led Zeppelin.”

“I do. Sometimes. Okay, I know like five songs. But I really do like them. And this t-shirt.”

“Whatever you say darling.”

“Fix your hair please,” she said as she began to apply a fresh coat of lipstick, “and please wipe my lipstick off your face.”

Roger did so without any arguments or snide comments and the two proceeded to the stage. 

“You’ve got a little something there on your neck Rog,” Deaky said innocently as he walked passed to his place on the stage.

“Shut it Deacon.”

“Yeah, it looks like maybe, lipstick?” Freddie teased.

“You really do have lipstick on your neck babe,” Lena called across the stage even as her face burned brilliantly.

He sent her a half hearted glare accompanied by a devilish grin and proceeded into their soundcheck. It was always a weird sensation to Lena to hear them play to an empty theatre, vacant of an audience. Yet they still maintained that energy that made them so powerful, so tranciendental to watch. 

Not long later the stage was empty again and the auditorium began to fill with people. An oppressive buzz of people talking and laughing dominated the atmosphere even backstage as the five of them sat together waiting for the band to go on. Lena was on Roger’s lap, Deaky was drinking something that looked infinitely better than all the choices of alcohol Lena had been offered in the past several hours, Brian was absently strumming his guitar, and Freddie was drinking one of the same awful drinks Lena had consumed previously. 

Leaning into Roger’s chest, Lena absently studied her chipping black nails, making a mental note to repaint them when she got back to the hotel. It had been a long lovely day and the night had not even really begun yet. For once Lena felt fully contented to be engaging in the partying and everything she normally tried to keep out of that the band did. Freddie passed her and Roger a bottle of what he was drinking. 

“I’d rather have whatever Deaky’s drinking. This is disgusting,” Lena said making another face after trying it again just to make sure and passing the bottle Roger.

“Whatever darling. It’s time for us to go on anyway.”

Lena frowned at her failing to snag a drink that she would actually enjoy, but removed herself from Roger’s lap, as the band filed out of the room. Deaky passed her his drink on his way out, winking at her. 

With her one arm wrapped around Roger and one hand holding her newfound drink she walked to the edge of the stage, just out of sight of anyone in the audience, as per usual.

“Enjoy the show love,” Roger said as he detached himself from her and gave her a quick peck on the lips before prancing on stage.

“I always do,” she whispered after him.

And she did. Tonight was like every other with its energy. As soon as the band entered the stage the house lights went off, plunging the audience into darkness, temporarily destroying any evidence of the fact that the auditorium beyond was one of the most beautiful Lena had seen. The stage lights flew to illuminate the four figures and the performance took off in a whirlwind of theatrics and drama. Lena just stood grinning, swaying her way through each song, drink in hand, her heart happy. 

-

Part 7 - 8 February 1976 - New York City Continued

Tonight was to be their last night in the Beacon Theatre and their last night in New York. From there it was on to see the rest of the United States and then onto international shows. 

These couple days in the city Lena had previously called home had consisted of her favorite moments on tour so far and she almost wished that they could stay a little longer. The shows themselves had been amazing and the memories had been even better. This last day here though, she was taking a few hours to visit several of her old haunts a little further away from the main bustle of central Manhatton. There were so many places to visit that it was not feasible to take Roger with her to each and every one, nor did she particularly want any of her acquaintances here catching wind of the fact that she was dating THE Roger Taylor and annoyingly overreacting. 

But with Roger’s instance that she spend time with him alone and go out on a real date together for the first time in forever, Lena was walking through the streets of Lower Manhattan trying to figure out where the cafe she had told Roger to meet her at was. It was a quite well known cafe and was large enough to offer privacy when sharing conversation, but small enough to feel pleasantly at home. She supposed that she could just ask someone where it was, but pride and a desire to prove to herself that she still belonged to this city as much as she ever had, left her wandering for just a little longer than necessary

Finally in the distance Lena saw the giant ice cream cones protruding off the side of a building and the large vertical sign, that even from afar could be vertically read as ‘FERRARA’. With a little sigh of relief and a glance at her watch that told her she would hardly even be late she hurried toward the sign.

Only a few steps down the block though, a she caught something out of the corner of her eye that stopped her cold. She stepped toward the magazine stand and reached with trembling fingers toward the silly tabloid. 

On the cover was a snapshot from earlier that week when they had run down the street, both her and Roger’s blonde hair flying out behind them. The photograph fortunately failed to show her face, but nevertheless the headline read “Roger Taylor’s Mystery Girl: What We Know”. 

Lena could barely look at the photo, her red jacket that she prized so much glaring blatantly back at her. After a moment where nothing but an intense desire to melt into the pavement over took her, she flipped open the magazine to the indicated page to find an an unfortunately accurate description of her and Roger’s relationship so far. She stood there in stunned silence reading it, horrified that so much of what she thought had been private about her life was in the view of the world. 

“Ya look like yav see a ghost dearie,” the older man running the stand said as he came up to her.

Lena slapped the magazine closed and hastily placed it back in its place.

 “Nope, just looking,” she said, giving the man what she hoped was a pleasant smile. She ducked her head and walked away stiffy to the exterior of Ferrara’s and hoped Roger was already inside and would not discover her in her panic. She leaned up against the bricked wall and wrung her hands together, the image of her red jacket on the cover of that magazine remaining burned in her vision, glaring like a warning beacon. She held her breath and counted to ten in attempts to steady her breathing. 

Everything is fine, everything is fine. Nothing is wrong. It’s totally fine that the last two years of your life are printed in that magazine, all summed up as being ‘Roger’s girl.’ You knew this was going to happen eventually. There’s nothing to worry about. No one even knows your name. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s all fine. 

Despite the mantra repeating itself deftly in her head, her hands would not stop shaking and her breathing had begun to come in short gasps. She felt tears stinging her eyes and was suddenly angry. She squeezed her eyes shut. 

Jesus, get it together. What is your problem? Are you going soft? Why are you freaking out over this? This means absolutely nothing. It changes nothing. The world is exactly the same. Just this little detail that the world seems to know who you are. Or at least wants to. It’s totally fine. I’m fine with that. Totally. It’s fine, I’m okay, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m okay, I’m okay. I’m okay. 

“Lena,” Roger’s voice suddenly interrupted through her thoughts, “Are you okay?”

Her eyes flew open to see Roger, looking at her with deep concern, the edges of his lips turned down, his eyes squinted. Lena quickly wiped at her watery eyes, hoping to keep him from noticing her waterworks.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Everything is fine,” she said, her voice cracking on the last word.

“You’re kinda green, very pale, your eyes are bloodshot, and you’re shaking,” he said softly, grabbing at her hands.

“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. Come on let's go inside and sit down.”

He opened the door to the cafe for her and a wave of warm, fresh pastries cascaded over them. He ushered her to a table in the back, and left her momentarily to order coffee. She watched him go, his blonde hair and wearing of sunglasses indoors attracting attention from everyone in the place.  The girl at the counter seemed to recognize him and told him so, to which he responded with a half embarrassed grin. She took his order with awkward laughter that echoed around the cafe and served to bring more attention to the fact that a famous rockstar was present. 

Lena felt her fingers going cold and begin to shake even more. Tears pricked at her eyes again and her mouth felt dry. She dug through her coat and pulled out her big sunglasses that were suddenly not big enough. When Roger sat back down, with pastries in hand he gave her a concerned, questioning look.

“Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?”

“Because,” Lena said fighting to keep her voice level, “I am doing my best to not be recognized.”

He raised an eyebrow and cast a quick glance around the cafe and saw the more than a few people now whispering behind their hands.

“See?”

“Right. But it’s fine. Now, tell me love, what’s wrong?”

Lena sighed.

 Of course he’s okay with all the people staring, whispering and generally making us the center of attention. That’s literally his job. 

“Nothing is wrong. I’m just not used to people staring at me and knowing who I am. And wanting to know personal details, and wanting to take photos of me and I don’t know how to live up to their expectations and-”

“You saw yourself on a magazine cover didn’t you?” Roger said leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, a slight grin ghosting across his face. 

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You’re laughing.”

“I’m not laughing, I’m smiling. It’s just that seeing yourself on a magazine cover is supposed to be exciting. Doesn’t everyone dream of seeing themselves on one?”

“No. At least I don’t. Or rather I don’t want everyone to know all the personal details of my life. Literally I do not even understand how they could possibly know exactly when we met. Like that was literally two years ago.”

“Ah there was a nice article too. And what did it say? Was it full of wonderful rumors and juicy gossip and some interviews with groupies giving their opinions on you? The ‘girl who’s dating Roger Taylor?”

“No! Do they do that? That’s disgusting.”

“It’s America love. Really everywhere. But I think the chase down the streets hand in hand earlier this week really made it exciting.”

“And THAT is what was on the cover! I can never wear that red jacket again.”

“Of course you can. It can be your signature look. And that can be the subject of conversation, instead of other details.”

“You’re taking this so lightly,” Lena deadpanned. 

“Because. It’s gotta be treated that way. If you let it get to you, it will get to you and take a hold of you. And you’ll become too invested in it. You just have to not care.”

“How do I not care, and be worried about living up to these random expectations when even in this singular restaurant, everyone in here is staring at us and whispering and I would not be surprised if in half an hour some collection of paparazzi showed up?”

“Do you remember when I first met you?” 

“What does that have to do with this?”

“Do you?” he said ignoring the question.

“Of course Rog.” 

“Do you remember when we first danced?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you remember.”

“I remember…. I remember being so excited that I fit in so well with you all. I felt at home for the first time in a really long time.”

“And you had this look in your eyes that was a little hesitant because of all the things you had heard. But by the time the night was almost over you looked like you had almost forgotten that you were with a group of up and coming rock stars, who even then attracted a lot of attention.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that even from the very beginning, even from that first night of meeting you, people wanted to know who you were.”

Lena frowned trying to decipher what this meant.

“That night, unknown to you, and to all of us except for Freddie, someone shot a whole collection of photos. Of us dancing primarily. And there was a little collection of notes on a little notepad along with the roll of film.” 

“What!”

“Yeah. And apparently Freddie saw the person and paid them off for the photos and notes and then the person never said anything about it I guess. Freddie might even still have the film.”

Lena sighed. Of course that had been the case. Her life had been given a great expectation from the very moment she met Queen and she did not know how to live up to that. Even then when she was distinctly under their employment she wouldn’t have known how to deal with the rumors and expectations and gossip that she was shagging one of the band members. And even now, when so many of those rumors about her and Roger were true, and there was no reason to be ashamed, there was another expectation of what she must be for her to fulfil that rock and roll girlfriend position. 

“How is that supposed to make me feel better?” Lena sighed as the waitress brought them their coffee and flashed Roger a smile. Lena frowned and glared at her, but it had less effect than intended because of her sunglasses. Her earlier anxiety has transformed itself into frustration at the world. 

“Look at it this way,” he said leaning up on the table again, “people have always wanted to know who you are. And they don’t really even care what you’re like. They just want to know for the sheer sake of knowing. And that has been going along this whole time. And so nothing should change now.”

“But they have all these expectations of who the infamous Roger Taylor’s girlfriend should be…”

“Sure they do. And they can have them if they want. But that doesn’t mean you have to fulfil that.”

“I know but….” she took a sip of her coffee. It was as good as she remembered.

“Just forget they even exist love. They don’t matter anyway.”

“I know I just-”

He leaned in across the table, prompting her to do the same and grasped her hands, holding them firmly in his.

“Everything will be fine. I promise,” he said as he closed the distance across the table and pecked her on the lips. 

“If you say so.”

“Trust me. If the past couple years have taught me anything about fame, it’s to not let it go to your head.”

-

Part 8 April 1976 - Back Home

A soft, gentle breeze blew into the room from the open balcony doors, refurnishing Roger and Lena’s bedroom of its unlived-in smell and replacing it with fresh night air. Lena watched Roger’s sleeping form, thankful to finally be back home in their own privacy, in London, in a place where gigs were local and the community of people around them more or less stayed the same. She let her breathing fall into the same rhythm of Roger’s as he slept, trying to calm her nerves enough to join him in sleep. 

The last couple months of touring around the world had been a delightful and harrowing adventure but this return to normalcy was much needed. In the year they had lived in the little house nothing was ever perfectly normal, there was never ‘normal’ with Queen, but life had consisted of a predictable chain of outrageous events and occasions. Finally Lena could go back to being woken up by phone calls from band members at all hours of the night with song ideas or with random arrivals of those same lovely people and setting up half the band’s equipment in her living room for a quick demo of that same song. And these nights where the street below was all but silent and the world was careful not to disturb her as she drifted off to sleep next to this love of her life. 

The next morning Lena woke alone in bed, but to the smell of breakfast and coffee. Sweet, delicious coffee. Homemade coffee. In her favorite mug. And Roger’s morning voice. And a little good morning kiss on her forehead. 

But that would mean getting out of bed and the warmth that the blankets brought her. But coffee. And Roger.

Fortunately for her, only moments later the latter arrived in the doorway of their room, the old floorboards creaking to announce his presence. 

“Lena love? Breakfast is ready. And coffee.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, barely pulling back the covers to reveal her face and meet Roger’s eyes. 

Roger crossed the room and crawled onto the bed, hovering over her, his nose almost touching hers.

“You have to get up love. We have things to do today.”

“Do we really though?” Lena mumbled.

“Yes love we really do.”

Lena shifted herself up on the pillows to touch her lips to Roger’s, her mouth moving against his in slow, perfect rhythm. The weight of his body fell against her own as she reached up to knot her fingers in his hair. With slow, languid movements he held her face in his hands, stopping for a moment to look at her.

“You know I love you right?”

“Not as much as I love you,” she whispered back.

After a few more moments of slow kisses that began to cascade away from her mouth and down her neck Roger pulled away reluctantly.

“We really do have places to be going today. We told Fred we’d host his post-tour dinner party. So we have to go shopping. Because the only food we have in the house is that which is waiting for you downstairs.”

“And coffee?” Lena grinned.

“And coffee. Now come on.”

Lena allowed him to pull her out of bed, but not before another long kiss ensued, halting their progression toward breakfast even longer.

Breakfast was exactly reminiscent of the last time they had eaten together in their own kitchen, those may months ago before this tour.  There were lazy kisses on hands and chatting of everything and nothing all at once. There was the drawing out of second cups of coffee in order to stay seated pleasantly doing nothing for just a few minutes longer. 

But duty called and they were soon on their way out the door for a shopping date in preparation for Freddie’s post-tour party. Lena had previously made him swear that it would just be them, the band and spouses, no exceptions. Aside, of course, from John’s son that they had seen so little of recently, Lena thought smiling. 

Shopping of any sort with Roger was always an adventure whether it be perusing for the latest fashions or their almost weekly shopping dates. This time was no exception. Lena had a vision in mind as to what she wanted their first home cooked meal back would be, but Roger’s distraction levels prohibited them from completing their shopping in any timely manner. This Lena had no quarrel with this, in fact she quite enjoyed his outrageousness and somewhat childish behavior. 

But what she did not enjoy was the attention of everyone else. Several times throughout their outing, in various different locations they were stopped by fans. And it was not in the way that it used to be where when stopped, only Roger or the others would receive attention, but now she too had fallen into the spotlight. The entirety of the outing consisted of Lena swallowing her panic and smiling widely at the people who greeted them. All of the people they met were really quite lovely she thought, it was just her inability to stop her hands from shaking and her chest from constricting.

Of course Roger was his delightfully exuberant self who was practically bouncing on his toes as they walked home. Lena knew that it was the effect of the tour that they had just concluded that they encountered so many people whom wanted to meet them, and she was happy for Roger that the he could experience this success, but as hard as she tried she still could not silence the little whispers in the back of her mind that told her that she wasn’t fulfilling expectations, that she should not be sharing this spotlight at all, that people disliked her. The more people they met the more she found that the fans were just as loving and supportive toward her as they were of Roger, but this still did not quell her hands from shaking.

And of course adding to this was the occasion of seeing her face on a magazine cover. She had to admit that it was a good photo of herself, despite the big round sunglasses she had been sporting that day. However, just seeing her photo so blatantly plastered on the cover, as if she was a commodity to be sold gave her an uncomfortable set of shivers. Even at this point she wondered why the world was so blatantly obsessed with her, but could come to no more than the usual conclusion of the fact that it was Roger whom she was dating, the notorious, up until two years ago ago at least, as one magazine had put it, ‘playboy’. 

By the time they arrived back home Lena was thoroughly exhausted compared to Roger’s jazzed and excited mood. She supposed that she was going to have to get used to that, otherwise any outing they ever took together was going to be miserable. Roger offered to start the cooking so she could relax for a while before helping him with the one dish that he had never made before. Lena was again eternally thankful that Roger was actually quite a good cook. 

Lena headed upstairs to change into clothes that Freddie would approve of as being ‘dinner party friendly’. She sat in front of her mirror, adjusting her makeup and repainting one of her fingernails that had chipped. The wet, red polish glistened like blood on her fingernail as she screwed the cap back on. 

While waiting for her finger to dry somewhat, she studied herself in the mirror. There were her eyes and her nose and her lips and her blonde hair that now fell past the bottom of her ribs.  Looking just as they always did. The way her eyes looked did not change and she kept her face steady in the mirror and allowed any anxiety and stress to be completely imperceptible. 

Then she screwed up her face and pretended that her eyes looked sad and let her shoulders drop and let her hands shake. But the mirror still did little to fully reflect the anxiety she felt. 

So she let her face fall slack and everything back to its resting position, and just stared,  unthinking at herself while her brain swirled tremendously. 

Finally she rummaged through a bedside drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and took them with her out onto the balcony. She had forbade Roger from smoking inside, so she figured that she should at least somewhat follow her own rule. 

The wind blew just barely, hinting that there might be rain later that day. Otherwise, everything was moving at its normal frequency, a quiet din of noise.  She clicked her lighter several times before it sparked and she was able to light the cigarette. Her first inhale of smoke left her coughing tremendously. She heard Roger chuckle behind her.

“I thought you didn’t smoke.”

“I don’t anymore,” Lena said, this time expertly taking a drag of the cigarette as Roger joined her on the balcony.

Roger studied her face without saying anything else. She offered him a smoke, which he accepted before returning it to her. 

“Are you okay Lena?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? Because I feel like you’re not.”

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

“It’s okay if you’re not. You don’t have to be okay with everything the world throws at you.”

Lena looked at him and she could see his eyes filled with concern. She ducked her head and looked away into the distance, exhaling from the cigarette dramatically. 

“It’s just my brain being stupid and not handling the public attention well.”

“It’s not stupid. You never signed up for that-”

She turned to look at him, her cheeks taking on a red flare. 

“But I did Rog! I did! The moment I accepted the job to manage that tour!”

“You didn’t know that-”

“But I did!” her voice broke, “I did! How else would I have ever known that you were supposed to be a guy who slept around? Or who Veronica was? Or when Kashmira was born? Or the names of Brian’s parents? All before I even met you!”

“Lena-”

“No Rog,” she said as she turned her head away to hide tears, “it’s stupid, and-”

“It’s not stupid Lena. Not at all.”

“But it is Rog. It is.”

“No Lena it’s not. What’s stupid is that the world thinks that it should know all of that information. It’s stupid that the fans want to know every single little detail of our lives. It’s stupid that we can’t just enjoy spending time together out of this house without interruptions. Not you.”

“But Rog, that still doesn’t change anything. I’m still having these stupid issues and have a stupid reaction every single time we go out.”

“It will just take some time love.”

“It’s been two years!” Lena gasped, “Two years and I still-”.

“It’s okay. Lena? Look at me.”

She looked at him with bloodshot eyes as she attempted to avoid bawling in front of him.

“You don’t ever have to be okay with all the attention. You are no under no obligation to please anyone, nor do anything they expect you to.”

Lena looked at him, her heart breaking a little. He was looking at her so earnestly, desperately wanting her to believe him. But he could tell her those things over and over again and she could fully believe that those things were true, but she could not stop that little set of whisperings in her head that said otherwise. No matter how much she wanted to believe that it was fine and it genuinely didn’t matter what other people thought, or what other people knew, there was an endless cycle whirring through her brain telling her to that she was not enough and that she must live up to every expectations. And that made her feel even less worthy, because she was failing at doing the one thing that the only person that mattered believed her to be; strong. 

Be strong. Be strong. I can be strong right? Just get it together. You’ve had your cry for today. Now moving on.

She wiped her eyes and sat up straight. Taking a last drag on her cigarette, she went back inside and smashed it into the ashtray a little too aggressively.

“I’ll be fine,” she said with a little smile towards the balcony. 

Roger stepped back in, closing the little french doors behind him. Before she could dash out of the room in a feigned need to go check on the food, he stopped her, his fingers resting lightly on her wrists, just barely preventing her from rushing away.

“Lena, I want you to know that whatever happens, whatever crazy collection of paparazzi and fans we encounter, I will always be here. No matter what.”

“Thank you,” she said her eyes looking into his, knowing he was telling the truth.

“And if we are ever somewhere and you need to just get out, let me know and we will go. Right away. No questions asked.”

She slowly smiled at him, still holding down a shame that that would happen. “Hell” she thought, “that has already happened too many times to count.”

“No matter what Lena. I promise.”

She did not say anything but wrapped her arms around his waist. He followed suit by wrapping his arms around her, enveloping her in a strong hug. He rested chin on her head while she buried his face in his chest. Even with ghastly looming in the recesses of her brain, still causing her to want to break down and cry, she had to admit that this was without a doubt her happy place.

Suddenly the doorbell rang followed by a loud hollering.

“We’ve arrived darlings! The party can begin!” Freddie’s voice called, echoing through the house. 

-

Part 9 - 7 May 1976 - Birthday

Lena observed herself in the mirror.

The dress she had chosen for tonight was simple, her favorite little black dress that fit perfectly and left nothing to imagination. Her hair was pulled up and piled on her head, leaving the big diamond earrings glistening at her ears to be the center of attention. And finally her deep red lipstick which completed the look. 

She bent to pull on her heels, balancing precariously on one while securing the other. 

“Twenty-five looks good on you,” Roger said as he walked into the bedroom.

Lena smiled at him in the mirror, “Thank you. Shouldn't you be dressed by now?”

“Yes. But I wanted to give you something first.”

“Rog-”

“Just wait. Turnaround towards the mirror and close your eyes.”

“If you say so…”

In darkness she heard him come up behind her and the sound of him fumbling in his pocket. A line of cold metal fell on her neck, the pendant of whatever it was resting several inches below the lines of her collar bones. Roger’s fingers brushed at the little hairs hanging down over the back of her neck causing her to shiver as he fixed the clasp of the necklace. 

“Okay, open.”

Lena opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. At first she did not realize what the little gold pendant was. But then, looking down at it and touching it with her fingertips and feeling the almost imperceptible ridges, she realized what it was. It was a piece of a broken cymbal, the once jagged edges filled down as not to stab her. 

“Rog it’s beautiful,” she said, smiling at him widely in the mirror.

“Do you like it?”

She turned to face him, smiling warmly up at him.

“It’s perfect,” she said wrapping her arms around him.

“I wasn’t quite sure what to get you and I found that piece in my pocket after a show one night and I kept it-”

“Rog it’s absolutely perfect,” she said, reaching up to kiss him, “But now I need some coffee before we go to this mystery party, and you need to get dressed.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said twirling her out of his grasp and sending her spinning toward the door. She grabbed her red jacket on the way out and proceeded down the stairs to the kitchen. 

As the coffee brewed she thought about this impending party. It had of course been Freddie’s idea and he had insisted upon it despite her protests. However, he had promised that the party would only consist of people she knew by name. But he had said that with an absolute mischievous glitter in his eye, so she still was not quite sure what to expect. She poured a little whiskey into her coffee and thumbed through a magazine, hoping not to see her name or face. 

“Havin’ a little somethin in your coffee there?” Roger asked.

“Just to start the night off right-” she began but stopped as she turned to see Roger, “You cannot be serious.”

To Lena’s horror Roger was wearing his favorite pink converse, which themselves were not all that bad. Nor were the black leather pants or white button down. Frankly, in that alone he would look quite good, she mused. But it was the bright pink blazer that made Lena’s mouth drop.

“What? This is the perfect outfit for a fancy occasion.”

“Not that coat. Absolutely not that coat.”

“Oh yes. You cannot stop me. I have been planning to debut this coat for a long time and I just needed a good reason. And your birthday is the perfect occasion.”

“Could my birthday present be that you don’t wear that coat?”

“No can do. You already got your present.”

“Roger I swear if you wear that out of the house-”

“Nope I’m wearing it. And I prepared for you to say no,” he said as he grinned mischievously, “Freddie knows that I was planning to wear this jacket. But if I don’t show up wearing said jacket, he’s going to make you play BoRhap with him. At the party.”

“First off you promised that you wouldn’t tell him I could play the piano-”

“Well…. I also made him promise to never ask you about it unless I wasn’t wearing the jacket-”

“And secondly. Blackmailing me to let you wear your dumb jacket? Really?”

“I wouldn’t call it blackmailing so much as casual persuasion…”

“Hmm…” Lena said.

Lena dumped another round of whiskey into her cup of coffee. “You know what fine. I don’t even care. But more than anything you owe me because now I can’t wear my red jacket.”

“Why?” “Because we’ll clash horribly,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh obviously. We could never ever put pink and red together like that.”

“Exactly. Now Mr. Pink Suit Man. Can we get going to this party?”

“Oh hush. I know you like the rest of my outfit. You always say you love when I wear these pants.”

“Sure I do.”

“Whatever,” he laughed, “Let’s go, limo will be here,” he looked at the clock, “five minutes ago.”

“A limo. Really?” Lena deadpanned, shaking her head.

“Yes really.”

The ride to the party was exceptionally uneventful as she had half expected the rest of the boys to spring out of hidden compartments or something. But she supposed that this was just the calm before the storm. 

Upon arrival to their destination and after disembarking the car, Roger offered her his arm, grinning like an idiot. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I’m so happy to be here to celebrate your birthday with you. And well, I don’t know, just wait and see.”

“Okay?”

Lena let herself be led up the steps and into Freddie’s home. She should have suspected it would be at his house. All his best parties were at his house because he could perfectly formulate everything to be just how he wanted. And control the guest list she hoped.

No one but the roadie who opened the door for them noticed their presence immediately and Lena had time to properly take in the scale of the occasion.

The party was already in full swing, and at first glance it looked nothing like the classic rock and roll parties she was used to. Everything was arranged in perfect orderly fashion, the food that littered various tables all looked like collections of french delicacies and there was what looked to be bottles of her favorite brand of champagne protruding from ice buckets throughout the room. People were standing and chatting and clinking glasses in an uncharacteristically formal manor and the way the place was lit reminded Lena distinctly of a roaring twenties, Gatsby reminiscent party. 

That was until the chandelier lurched with movement causing a loud tinkle as the thousands of little crystals collided with each other. Lena looked up to see that there was someone in a very long and flowing white dress lying lazily in the chandelier. In looking up she could see that the entirety of the room was actually filled with a hazy smoke and the woman in the chandelier was really quite smart to be up there near the balloons that flitted along the ceiling and above the cloud that engulfed the party goers. The closer she looked, the more familiar the scene became. Champaign fizzed seemingly auditorily and there was the heavy, bitter smell of alcohol wafting around the room. There were the remnants of some white substance on the table and too much girlish laughter. But this was the sort of party that she was used to and could almost like, because there were so many people that it became intimate and if you situated yourself just right there was proper amounts of privacy. And so far Freddie had kept his word; every single face she saw she could put a name to. 

Lena and Roger wandered through the crowd downing a couple glasses of champagne each before finding Freddie who announced the two with tipsy enthusiasm. At his request the entire crowd sang her happy birthday as she blushed the color of Roger’s blazer.

As the off key and slurred song concluded Freddie leaned in to whisper into Lena’s ear conspiratorially.

“If you go over there just now,” he whispered directing her gaze to the corner, “you will see a tall, only mildly high man whom you might find very interesting.”

Lena looked in the direction he had indicated and searched the crowd. The only thing that stood out to her was a shock of dyed red hair on someone facing away from her while the rest of the faces faded into familiarity. 

“I don’t-”

Just then the head of red hair turned and Lena saw that red hair faded into blonde at the front of the man’s head. Lena blinked a couple times at the man before looking back to Freddie with wide eyes.

“Is that David fucking Bowie?”

Freddie smiled delightedly, “And if you want to meet him darling you had better do so now because he has a concert tonight that he should have already left for.”

“How-”

“Don’t ask any questions, it ruins the magic of it.”

“But-”

“Darling, let’s just say that I’m the fairy godmother of rock n’ roll.”

Lena immediately ditched Roger in favor of meeting one of the most iconic people she’d ever heard sing. However, as soon as she plunged into the crowd, she was met with a wall of astoundingly large and curly black hair. Assuming it was Brian, she shouldered past, but upon coming face to face with the man, she discovered immediately it was not. 

“Watch it pretty thing” the mop of black hair stated.

Another mop of black hair appeared next to him, “Nah, you gotta be the one to get outta the way Gene, that’s the lady of the night.”

“Oh, my apologies pretty thing,” Gene responded, grinning.

For the second time that night Lena had to snap her mouth shut. 

“Name’s Paul, and this is Gene,” the other said, sticking out his hand.

Lena shook it hesitantly, and with even more reservation at shaking Gene’s hand, completely bewildered as to why half of Kiss was standing in Freddie’s living room.

“Nice to meet you?”

“Don’t say that as a question pretty thing, you just shook hands with half of the sexiest band in the world,”

Lena laughed, “Yes I know who you are. I just thought you were on tour in the States?”

“We were,” Paul said, “But we just got over and Freddie convinced us to come a little early to London.”

“Yes, and now that we’ve met you it’s most definitely worth it,” Gene grinned almost too mischievously.

 “Thanks. I think?”

Paul rolled his eyes, “Don’t mind him-”

“But pretty thing, you’d mind me quite nicely-”

“Okay that is quite enough of that,” Roger said appearing at her side, “And besides Lena, Bowie is literally leaving and Freddie is really insisting that you meet him before he leaves.”

Gene was about to say something that Lena had no doubt was derogatory toward Roger, but Paul elbowed him in the ribs and he settled for wagging his tongue at her.

“Oh my God don’t do that,” Lena laughed, “It was wonderful to meet you!”

A little more harshly than necessary Roger dragged her off into the crowd to the direction that she had last seen David Bowie.

Briefly they just managed to catch him as he left the house. Perhaps it was Lena’s expectancy of what he would be like, or the fact that she had already consumed a little too much to drink, but the short thirty seconds in his presence were electrifying. He greeted her with a smooth grin and inexplicit energy as he shook her hand, accompanied by a kiss on the cheek. He wished her a ‘wondrous and magical birthday’ and then was whisked out the front door.

Lena looked at Roger starstruck, “We just met David Bowie.”

“Yes we just did.”

“And Kiss almost prevented us from doing so.”

“Yes, they unfortunately did,” Roger said making a disgusted face. His face quickly split into a grin, “And now you’re about to hear Queen play you a set specially put together just for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes of course, it’s your birthday, what else would we do?”

It was actually much later that Roger managed to round up all four of them and play her their short collection of songs that they had selected for her, but in the meantime, Lena enjoyed herself immensely. She drank too much of her favorite champagne, smoked something that was definitely a little more potent than what she had been told it was, and consumed a few too many of the little chocolate desserts that littered the tables. Gene Simmons continued to wag his tongue at her across the room anytime he made eye contact, to which Roger would immediately glare at him. To which Lena would laugh in response. Perhaps it was because she was more than a little drunk, but Lena was immensely enjoying herself. 

She had perched herself on top of Freddie’s largest and most outrageous piece of furniture when she heard feedback screech and Freddie’s voice bound into the room.

“Okay darlings. You all know that today is lovely Lena’s birthday-” there was a loud, half drunken cheer, “And as such here is a little set we’ve concocted for our very special lady.”

Freddie looked at the others and nodded. 

“To begin, we have Lena’s favorite Queen song, at least according to Roger. And I do suspect that it really is your favorite song, because it was not written by him,” Freddie said making eye contact with her.

The audience laughed and Roger rolled his eyes laughing. 

They began the song, and it was immediately recognizable as ‘39 which really was Lena’s favorite song. Lena studied them as they played.

Roger had somewhere over the course of the night discarded his pink blazer, now leaving him looking quite dashing. Freddie was ever the dramatist of the group, sporting only a black, gold fringed military uniform and leather pants. He didn’t even have shoes on. Deaky was dressed in typical Deaky fashion, classy but in such a way that was distinctly not classical. Tonight he had donned an all white suit, even wearing white high heeled shoes to match the look. And Brian was, as per usual, out dressing the rest of them by leaps and bounds on the actual classy level. He wore black pants, a white button down and a black vest, all accompanied by his big head of hair and the Red Special. 

Cohesively they exuded the sort of glam rock vibe that Lena had come to so desperately love about them. ‘39 was played through with it’s typical exuberance and in accoustic fashion. 

Upon its conclusion the crowd clapped with astounding noise, but it soon died down once Roger began to speak into his microphone.

“This next song isn’t one of our-”

“Such a shame really,” Freddie interrupted.”

“But it’s a really excellent one that I know you like Lena and I thought we’d play it for you tonight.”

At the intro to the song Lena couldn’t quite identify what it was, but as soon as Freddie began to sing she grinned, and began to sway along.

Something by the Beatles echoed through the room, resonating  only the way classics such as that do. Hearing this song, one she loved so much, that she had loved for such time, long before even hearing of Queen’s existence, was a surreal experience. Somehow they played it perfectly in their own way, Roger’s high voice filling the spaces next to Freddie’s and Brian’s uniquely, bringing it alive anew. 

As it concluded on the last couple notes the crowd burst into applause again, this time with much more exuberance at hearing such a rendition of Something.

Once the crowd had quieted to a dull roar, Freddie spoke again. “And now, a new song off our forthcoming record, written by Mr. Pretty Boy himself, and frankly only just finished, in fact you’ll all be the first to hear it, just for you: You and I.

It began with a classic Queen piano intro, Freddie’s fingers dancing across the keys. Then Roger’s drums came in and the song picked up slightly, but still remained on a slower tempo than that which one normally thinks of as classic seventies rock. After several lines Lena felt her throat tighten as they played. 

Laughter ringing in the darkness

People drinking for days gone by

Time don't mean a thing

When you're by my side

Please stay awhile

You know I never could foresee the future years

You know I never could see

Where life was leading me

But will we be together forever

What will be my love

Can't you see that I just don't know

The instrumental interlude left Roger slightly more free to place his focus on Lena rather than his playing and he looked for her in the crowd, smiling wide. She met his eyes, tears of emotion almost pricking her own. This song was for her, and only her she knew as he watched her in the crowd, his eyes beaming. Rarely was she actually in the crowd when they played and even with this song just for her there was a fantastic energy, even despite all of the people present having heard Queen play dozens of times. Roger winked and blew her a kiss as they began to sing again. 

No not tonight not tomorrow

Everything's gonna be alright (Sunny and bright)

Wait and see if tomorrow we'll be

As happy as we're feeling tonight

We'll go walking in the moonlight

I can hear the music in the darkness

Floating softly to where we lie

No more questions now

Let's enjoy tonight

Just you and I

Just you and I

Can't you see that we've gotta be together

Be together just you and I just you and I

No more questions just you and I

The song faded leaving her fighting tears. The split second of silence between songs seemed like a little eternity that she did not ever want to end. She smiled happily at Roger, but almost even before he smiled back at her, they jumped immediately into Keep Yourself Alive.

The moment of serenity was gone in a flash as they transitioned into the song that was much more for the crowd of gathered friends and family than for her. Even this song though had been selected for her as it was another one of her favorites.

Experiencing their show from the crowd for the first time, Lena could physically feel the energy in the room skyrocket as if a switch had been flipped. Everything moved with cacophonic rhythm and the watching crowd had erupted in noise to keep up with the band. She found herself having more fun than she ever had at one of their shows and internally berated herself for never before watching from where it was meant to be experienced. 

After the conclusion of their jam session Roger stumbled away from his drums and up to Lena, giving her a crushing hug, despite the fact that he was drenched in sweat.

“How is it possible that after only four songs you are so sweaty,” Lena said, muffled by his chest.

“It’s a bit toasty in here is all. What did you think?”

“Wonderful and amazing as usual Rog. And I don’t know why I’ve never watched a show in the audience before, it was so much more fun that way!”

“I know! I’ve been telling you that all along darling!” Freddie said as he flounced past.

The night continued accompanied by much more alcohol, a drunken Freddie singing half of Bohemian Rhapsody into the sound system and the woman in the chandelier making a very precarious leap onto the sofas below. How she had even gotten up there in the first place Lena was still unsure of. The half of Kiss that had been present bid their goodbyes from across the living room only by Gene waving his tongue at Lena and Paul distinctly rolling his eyes. Eventually the guests in Freddie’s home began to dwindle down and soon it was only the band and significant others left. 

“Did you enjoy the party darling?” Freddie asked as he ushered them all to the door.

“It was absolutely lovely Fred. I could not imagine ever a better night. David Bowie? And Kiss?”

“Like I said, I’m the fairy godmother of rock n’ roll, and they all come when I go calling. And they all happened to be in London tonight.”

Lena gave him a tight hug, “Thank you, it was wonderful. And the rest of you, thank you as well. ” she said hugging them in turn.

She stayed attached to Roger when she hugged him and he wrapped his arm around her in turn as they walked together from Freddie’s doo.

 Once home, they were both still mildly drunk and buzzing with excitement and it was a long time before they actually attempted to sleep. Finally though, they were facing each other, noses just barely touching.

“Can you sing me the song?” Lena whispered.

“Which song?”

“The song. The one you did tonight. The new one.”

He grinned at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his eyes sparking. 

Everything's gonna be alright 

Wait and see if tomorrow we'll be

As happy as we're feeling tonight

We'll go walking in the moonlight

I can hear the music in the darkness

Floating softly to where we lie

No more questions now

Let's enjoy tonight

Just you and I

Can't you see that we've gotta be together

No more questions just you and I

-

Part 10 -  July 1976 - Summer 

The mirror in the quaint little washroom at her job did a poor job of reflecting how tired Lena was. 

It had been a long day that had begun poorly; while making an unusual stop for coffee on the way to work she had been mobbed by Queen fans. Granted, they all had been kind and sweet and just wanting to meet her, but the experience had still left her hands shaking. The young women who had stopped her had all really been delightful, and in another situation she probably would have liked to be friends with them, but the fact that there had been so many of them, all demanding to say hello and tell them what it was like to be Roger Taylor’s girlfriend, had put her into a foul mood. Primarily because she had a panic attack at meeting them. Not because they had wanted to meet her, but rather the effect that it had on her.

Now, looking in the mirror she was not surprised to find that she looked tired and sad, her hair a little flatter than she normally liked it. The orange turtleneck that had looked so good with the brown skirt this morning now gave her a sallow glow. She hoped it was just the light of the washroom though. 

Regardless, she turned away from her unfortunate reflection and changed into her favorite pair of bell bottoms, accompanied by a loose white blouse. When she returned to mirror she found that the change in color did wonders for her complexion and hoped that it would be enough to hide from Roger that she was so tired. Pulling her hair up and into a fashion that was less recognizable as belonging to ‘Roger Taylor’s pretty blonde girlfriend,’ she almost wished that they were back on tour where it was acceptable to look tired all the time. And where she could exist in a state of trying to be ready to meet fans and not take it as such a shock when they did come. And being able to be with Roger all the time. That was the part she truly missed. Glancing at her watch she found that Roger should be arriving any moment and she hurried down many flights of stairs and to the street level. 

It was rare they spent any time with each other outside of their house these days. They were just too busy now to plan occasions anymore, and when they did, it almost always ended with Roger gripping Lena’s shaking hands after crossing paths with mobs of fans. Lena considered this and hoped that whatever he had planned would be devoid of any fans, because she was not sure she could handle any more of that today. 

“How are you my love?” Roger asked as Lena stepped into his car. He floored the engine, speeding away from the curb as she answered.

“A little tired. But okay I think.”

“I hope you can be more than okay. I have the perfect little adventure planned for us. No drama, no nothing. Just you and I.”

Lena smiled and hoped that it would be true.

After a much longer drive than she had anticipated, which in itself had put her in much better spirits, they arrived on the outskirts of a park. With the sounds of some old rock ballad that she couldn’t recall the name to echoing in her ears, they departed from the car, Roger grasping an astoundingly large picnic basket and blanket. 

“Where did you find that picnic basket?”

“I borrowed it from Freddie.”

“Of course, everything outrageous always comes from Fred doesn’t it?” Lena laughed

“Most definitely.”

They hiked together though the park, running into no one but several families who paid them no notice. But Lena though that might have had to do with the fact that Roger had his signature blonde hair tucked up underneath a very ugly hat and was wearing dark sunglasses that obscured his face. She supposed the hat was acceptable if they could avoid being talked to by fans. 

Finally they settled upon a hilltop that looked out over the rest of the park and Roger spread the blanket out and began to unload the picnic basket. A warm breeze blew steadily across the hill, ruffling the starched summer grass. 

 Lena finally felt comfortable and nearly forgot to be afraid of potential fans as the hours passed and the sun began to sink low behind a distant hill. She had her head in Roger’s lap and was staring up at him as he stood out against the blue sky. Far off they could hear the screams and laughter of children running and playing, blending in with the even further off sound of London traffic. 

A kid came barreling up the hill toward them in pursuit of a dog that had evaded him. The little dog ran up and licked Lena’s face before taking off, with the child still in pursuit. Laughing, Lena sat up and watched them go, a little girl joining the boy as they chased the dog. The dog looked pleased that it had both the children chasing it.

“I hope that we can have that one day,” Roger said suddenly as the children’s laughter faded.

Lena turned to face him, her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach, “What?” she said in almost a whisper.

“Oh, I just meant I hope that we can have kids one day and-”

“Rog,” Lena said interrupting him. She had been avoiding this conversation for a long time, and immediately felt immensely guilty that she had not brought it up before.

“Yeah?” he said absentmindedly, still watching the kids run off after the dog. 

“Remember, remember a while ago when I told you not to worry about, about, you know, stuff, because I was on birth control?

“Yeah,” he said, still lost in his daydream.

“That wasn’t exactly true,” she said in a whisper.

That caught his attention and he looked at her with a joy, an excitement she rarely saw to be so genuine. 

“Are you-” he breathed, his eyes wide.

Lena pressed her lips together, trying with all her might not to cry. This was way worse than any moment in which she had been surrounded by fans. 

“No Rog.”

“Oh.”

“I, I, fuck- I’m sorry I did not ever tell you this-”

“Lena, are you okay?” he said, watching as the careful walls he knew she had built around herself begin to fall.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Rog. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I-” She hiccuped and swallowed hard. “I can’t have kids. I should have told you this an eternity ago before we became so, I don’t know, real. But I can’t have kids. Something happened when I was a teenager. It was either me or my ability to have kids, and obviously I’m still here ...I'm sorry, so sorry Rog,” she cried, suddenly bawling into his chest, as she watched a little light in his eyes go out. 

He was silent for a second before whispering that it was alright, rocking her in his arms. He told her it would be okay, if they wanted kids they could adopt. And really did they even need kids of their own? They would always have John’s or eventually Brian’s or even Freddie’s to look after?

Lena continuously apologised until her hiccups faded, and then she began apologizing afresh for her overly emotional state. Besides reassuring her that it was not her fault and it was okay, she noticed that Roger was unusually quiet for a long time, so long that the park had all but begun to fade into darkness. Lena lit a cigarette in the dim light and the instant of flame from the little French lighter illuminated his eyes for a brief second. Then it was gone.  

-

Part 11 - 18 September 1976 - Hyde Park

Despite leaving for Hyde Park several hours before the first band was supposed to play, Lena found herself stuck in traffic among thousands hoping to catch a glimpse of Queen perform tonight. It was not even a particularly long taxi ride, but now she was immensely regretting rejecting the limo that had been offered her. But she doubted that even a specially designated limo would be enough to get through the sheer hoards of fans crowding into the streets surrounding the park. 

Eventually she was close enough that she could warrant walking. She checked her reflection in her compact mirror and pulled her hat down a little further on her face. Currently wearing the most boring and stereotypical outfit she could possibly concoct, the bell bottoms, Queen t-shirt and flat brimmed hat, which when angled correctly obscured her face, mostly hid her identity. The only thing that stood out in her appearance was the large bag at her side in which a whole new outfit was neatly folded and ready to be donned on arrival to the venue. 

But for now she still had the problem of even getting there. At this point everyone was fairly calm, it was still early in the day and the energy of the band had not yet been imagined. However, if even a single person were to recognize her as Roger Taylor’s girlfriend, chaos would ensue and she would be all but attacked by the fans. 

Fortunately this did not happen as she picked her way through the masses of people crowding into the park. By the time she came to someone of the appropriate security level who could escort her backstage, a buzz had begun to roll through the crowd as it neared the time the opening band was to play.

“What took you such an eternity to get here darling? We’d begun to think you weren’t coming,” Freddie exclaimed upon first seeing her.

“I should have accepted your limo offer-”

“Of course you should have, why ever else would you need a limo other than to get places on time.”

“Limos have never stopped you from being late before.”

“Valid. But regardless. I hope you brought other clothes because that outfit is boring.”

“Wow, thanks Fred,” Lena said sarcastically holding up her overly stuffed bag, “I’ve got a whole outfit don’t you worry. Where are the dressing rooms?”

Freddie waved vaughly to where the dressing rooms might be and something about the first door on the left. Or the right. He couldn’t remember.

Lena wandered in that direction, wondering what disaster she was going to find in the dressing rooms tonight. 

None of the dressing rooms were occupied to Lena’s surprise, so she chose the least messy one and dumped her overstuffed bag onto the tables. Everything immediately exploded from its neatly folded position. Realistically, it was only the jean jacket had been her birthday present from the band that was taking up space, as both the colorfully striped bell bottoms and black top were made of a thin stretchy material that folded away easily. 

Once changed into her ‘concert outfit’ and having had readjusted her hat, she cracked open the bottle of tequila that had been left on the table and took a swig. As she made a face in response, the door of the room opened to reveal a laughing Roger.

“I heard you’d finally arrived love, but I didn’t know you were already breakin’ into the alcohol.”

“Yes well, I do hope you have some beverages that taste better than this, because straight tequila will not do.”

Roger laughed and enveloped her in a hug. “Fred made sure to hide your favorite champagne from the rest of us.” He rested his chin on top of Lena’s head, saying, “I’ve missed touring with you.”

“I’ve missed seeing you.” 

“I know! But you’re still coming to the next couple shows right?” His eyebrows knitted with worry, “And back to help us touch up anything before we release the record?”

“Yes, but only until the end of the year.”

“Three months is a long time.”

“Hmm, but not long enough,” Lena said now leaning in closer to him, just brushing her lips across his. She didn’t know why she was encouraging this because these dressing room makeout sessions would more often than not turn into something far more than she intended. 

Roger had just lifted Lena’s hat off and his fingers were beginning to trail along her waistline when the door slammed open revealing an equally passionate John and Veronica. 

“Dressing room already occupied,” Roger said in a distinctly customer service voice. 

Before anyone could answer and further add to the situation, somebody yelled down the hall for them to “get your asses up here. I swear if I have to come down there and ya’ll are fucking in the dressing rooms again-”

“Coming Fred!” Lena yelled back and led the way past the rest of them and back up near the stage. 

The rest of the night prior to their going on was a whirl of laughter and joking as the boys prepared and vaguely watched the other bands play. All dressed in white they stood out even against the dimly lit wings of the stage, just as they had hoped. 

“Nice ballet slippers Fred,” Lena said, gesturing at his shoes.

“Why thank you darling, aren’t they just gorgeous?”

“From far away you won’t even be able to tell that they aren’t white,” Roger said.

Freddie glared at him, “They are barely even tinted pink. And I like them. You don’t have to.”

“Fine then.”

Lena laughed, “You two are ridiculous. You’re all ridiculous.”

“Yes we are darling, that’s why you love us,” Freddie said.

Brian came up just then, flapping his arms about, creating a very realistic impression of a great white bird, as the sleeves on his shirt billowed about. 

“And then we have Mr. Birdman, with his large white wings.”

Brian waved his arms again to further the effect, “Thank you, I always intend to look like I could just fly right off the stage.”

“Nah, darling, that’s my job. You just play that guitar and I’ll be the one going to the heavens.”

“Whatever you say Fred,” Brian responded, rolling his eyes with humor. 

Soon their entrance could not be prolonged any longer and the band took their places in preparation to go on stage.

“Do you want to go out and watch?” Freddie whispered as the others prepared to go on. 

“I wouldn’t be able to get out there.”

“You could go into the press pit if you like. You’ve never watched one of our big shows from the audience and this is a big show. Over 150,000 people.”

“Is it safe to do that?”

“Yeah, I’ll just have somebody take you to the press pit and you can go wherever you like, love!”

Lena grinned, “Okay, if you say so.” 

“I’ll prolong the show just a little longer to make sure you get out there in time.”

“Thanks Fred.”

He walked away and whispered to some crew members who came to escort her to the pit. She looked over her shoulder and saw the rest of them grinning at her, Deaky even giving a thumbs up, mouthing “See you out there.”

After being significantly jostled around and earning some glares from photographers until they caught sight of her face, she found herself pressed up against the barricade separating the press from the fans.. 

The light had faded, nearing darkness, just as the band had hoped. The sky was now a fading purple that barely illuminated the crowd behind her. The stage itself was silent and dark for the time being but the anticipation in the audience was anything but quiet.

No sooner had Lena imagined the stage to be soundless, the first half minute of Tie Your Mother Down played through the speakers in what would become the riff to bookend the Day at the Races album, earning a deafening cheer from the audience. The intro built and then the stage faded into silence again for a short moment before falling into the famous piano chords of Bohemian Rhapsody. The overdub of the song played until a spotlight dropped center stage to reveal the white clad Freddie, glowing etherally, when the band came in just as just before Freddie sang;

“So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?

So you think you can love me and leave me to die?

Ohh, baby, can’t do this to me baby.

Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here.” 

And Queen had arrived. The stage was filled with smoke and light, just how they’d intended it to look in the falling darkness, the shards of light bouncing through their hair, giving them heavenly halos. The rock section of Bohemian Rhapsody flowed right into Ogre Battle and the concert was on its way. 

Magic flowed over Lena. They became someone else on stage. Suddenly the people playing before her were strangers, and yet she knew them all better than she ever had before.  She was in love with a completely new person that she barely knew, yet somehow more themselves. This was who they really were, up on stage. There was something about their energy, the power in Freddie’s voice and the electricity in Brian’s guitar. They were legends themselves just as they were inspired by the legends that preceded them. It was loud, even the first few moments of the sound of Brian’s rich, sweet sounding guitar left her ears ringing. 

Her back was up against the last row of the press pit as it seemed like the best place to be as close to feeling the energy of the crowd without actually being in it. Halfway through their second song Lena felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Are you Lena?” the girl behind her yelled over the sound of the music.

“Yeah I am.”

“Nice to meet you! Enjoy the show!” Lena blinked at her in somewhat astonishment. But then she realized that right now and forever it was about the music; it was about nothing else but guitar riffs and heavy drums and bass lines and Freddie’s voice. It was about them and their ability to have that energy on stage, how they could make the music feel fresh every night, how it could make you feel; it was about the music. It was about creating something in the audience that made them feel alive, and as if they were experiencing something on some celestial plane of existence. Live their music is a little more dirty, not so fresh cut as on studio versions. They knew how to work the crowd, to show them it was their music just as much as the band’s.

She felt very alive in the moment. She knew that many of the songs being played were being played to fresh ears and the audience didn’t know them, but the energy in the music was raw and powerful. The space where the crowd was left to sing back were moments of togetherness with people she didn't know, didn’t want to know, friends she could have had, or hated, but for a few moments she was just one of them, someone in the crowd.  

Riding high on adrenaline and screaming the lyrics louder than she ever had before, it was not long before the stage crashed into darkness as Brian brought out his acoustic and introduced ‘39. Roger had brought forward the kick drum and a tambourine as was custom, and the four white birds stood together to perform Lena’s favorite song. 

Perhaps it was because Roger really was looking for her in the pit, but every moment that she locked eyes with one of them, not just Roger, electricity would flow through her body. The band let their eyes roam the crowd, careful not to linger too long on one person, even her. Light shown through Brian’s hair and Freddie’s eyes glittered with excitement. It felt like it was just her and the band, experiencing their music as she never had before, as it was intended to be played, live and to the masses. 

In recordings of the performance that Lena would look back on in years to come, not much can be heard but Freddie’s voice, a deep bassline and the audience screaming, folding into clips of what rock music should really be; alive. Everything was blurred and louder in the recordings, but it still held remnants of what it was like to be there, reminding her of the energy she felt, the electricity that caused people to clap to the  beat, to scream the words to songs they’d only just heard, and fall in love with people they barely knew. 

In moments where there was less movement and the lights were drawn down to fall only on the piano she found herself floating out in space. Just Freddie’s voice and the piano with the audience coming in even when they had yet to hear a studio version. They sang back at him and he kept playing for them, their voices bringing the song alive, the audience taking the music as their own. It meant something different to everyone, down to the kid who had never heard a rock band before in their life, to the girl who has followed the band from their early days, it belonged to them. 

Lena had been told to leave after Keep Yourself Alive in order to safely get backstage before the show ended, but seeing as she did not want to ever leave this moment, she saw no real reason to leave, other than the fact that she would now have to fight a large collection of impatient photographers. 

The last song caused the venue to ripple with fresh energy as the crowd knew it would end soon.

“Thank you and goodnight my darlings!” Freddie shouted as he belted out the last haunting notes of Lap of the Gods before the lights flared once more and the stage descended into darkness. The sound of the gong being dramatically hit rang through the dark and then only the sound of the crowd remained, hoping for an encore. Lena, knowing there was not going to be one, maneuvered through the photographers and backstage where she met the band, sweating and grinning wildly. 

-

Part 12 - November 1976 - In the Fall

She was somewhere, the recollection of the actual location had long since left her, for it didn't matter anyway, she could feel like she was being ripped apart from the inside anywhere.

Wading through the crowd earlier that night she had felt alive and had forgotten her fear of the world around her, all the pain had gone away, faded into the rhythm of the drum, Freddie's voice and sweet guitar riffs. But now that she was obligated to be at this party, everything had come back.

Alone from anyone she knew well at the moment, Lena cradled the bottle of Jack in her fist, listing precariously as she moved through the crowded room. She couldn't decide if it would be better if someone she knew came and stopped her, or if she could just continue to destroy herself and make all the poor choices she had sworn never to make. Eventually a less than sober  John joined her, throwing an arm around her in an effort to steady himself, but only ended up nearly knocking them both to the floor.

"Jesus Lena, usually you're the one we all can lean on. What's gotcha?"

"I couldn't really say, you know?" Lena answered, waving her bottle of whiskey, which she realized was a mistake, for as soon as she took her focus off it, her grip slipped and it smashed to the floor, sending glass and golden liquid across the floor.

The sound was just loud enough to cause a momentary silence and pause in the party but it didn't stay like that for long. John hurriedly helped her clean up the majority of the glass and by that time Roger had found them and took the obligation of the incoherent Lena away from John.

"Lena love, are you okay?" he said trying to direct her attention solely onto him. It wasn't exactly working.

"You know, the chandelier is particularly gorgeous tonight, but very bright."

Roger's eyes flitted upward without turning his head, assessing that the chandelier looked no different than on any other occasion at which they'd seen it.

Before he had a chance to respond a large group came up to them, engaging in a wandering conversation that Lena only mildly was able to follow, something about the latest fashion faux pas Freddie had made and how that had inherently become the new fashion trend. And on and on about the band and listless small talk about nothing. Eventually Lena excused herself from the circle in search of something else to quell the anxiety in her chest.

Nobody paid her much attention until she got to the bar set up on the far side of the room. The unfamiliar bartender blinked at her in recognition before asking what she wanted.

"I'd really like to stop feeling."

"Hmm, I recommend vodka."

When he turned away she snatched the open bottle of vodka just outside of his field of vision. She then accepted whatever he made her, poured it into her stolen bottle and moved back across the room where she settled on one of the overly decorative couches that adorned the too full living room. Drowning anything in alcohol was not a good choice she knew, and was not even a choice she could reprimand herself for; she had never made any rules against drowning sorrows like this because she'd never imagined that she would be in a place where she'd need to.

Someone eventually joined her, but she didn't care to discern who.

The person reached and took the bottle of vodka from her and took a swig themselves. They did not give it back.

"No one drinks a bottle of vodka for kicks I don't think," Roger said softly to her.

It took Lena too long to fully register what he said, or that it was him at all.

"No. I don't think they do."

Uncharacteristically, Lena realized, he was significantly more sober than she and he knew it too and knew it meant something bad. Neither said anything in response to this thought.

"Cigarette?" he offered.

"No", she said, but took it anyways. Her unsteady fingers had a difficult time holding it to his lighter.

"Lena-" Roger started, but she interrupted him, sounding far more coherent than he had anticipated her to be.

"I don't belong here, I am not worthy to be here. I love you, I love it, the lifestyle, the people, the places I get to go, but I don't think I'm cut out for it. I'm just not made to be able to live life like this, so fast and dirty all the time. Everyone continues to tell me that it's going to be alright and I just have to get through the rough patches and adjust to this, adjust to being in the spotlight, but I'm not strong enough for that. Even though people continue to tell me that over and over I continuously feel less worthy the more I fail to handle it and get used to it. This expectation that I feel, imaginary or not is breaking me. You are just out here creating music doing what you love. Enjoying this party, enjoying these people. And I am here with my face plastered on magazines solely because I am with you. My worth is defined by my attachment to you. And I feed into that and let myself find worth in that, as hard as I try not to. Music history will see me as... see right there, me caring what history has to say of me, me caring at all, when it should just be about us and who we are-"

She stopped her rambling and refocused on Roger wanting to see his response. He looked sad, his lips turned down and a little frown forming between his brows. It was cute.

"I wish I could go back to the way it was, the simplicity of us just being us, no one else to tell us what we should or should not be. I miss that. Now there's all these things, these people and they expect so much. And I just can't deal with that. Actually, that's not even true. I could deal with that. But Rog, I just can't do life with my face being plastered on magazine covers. Or the paparazzi. I know that sounds stupid, but like you've seen, it literally gives me anxiety attacks. You are meant to touch the stars, to be in the spotlight; and I am just not. I am meant to be the person who fades into the background, quite literally."

"I think you're the strongest woman I've ever met, and if there's anyone that can handle it, it's going to be you. We can change things, we can not go to these," Roger waved his hands and the commotion in the room, "we can just be us, go back to where we ignore the world a little."

"No we can't. We never even did. I just didn't realize they were watching, and it was once I became aware that they were watching was when it got bad."

"We can do whatever you want, I just want to keep you safe, to keep you from how you are now."

"I don't think you really can. Even in the midst of this, you can look at my destruction all you want, but it's nothing compared to what's in my head."

Some part of her incoherent brain knew she was hurting him, but she also knew sober Lena would never voice her concerns out of this fear of hurting him. Drunk Lena was honest to a fault.

"How can I help you then?"

"I don't know Rog."

The momentary seclusion from the party they had experienced suddenly vanished as some drunken onlooker responded with "How 'bout another drink?" and handed Lena a glass of something revoltingly strong. Before Roger could stop her, she downed it.

He looked at her sadly, not knowing how else to respond.

"Let's get you home."

"Are you sure? Don't you want to stay and enjoy the party?"

"Not with you like this."

"Hm what about like this?" Lena said, leaning his and sloppily kissing him, her hands tangling in his hair.

For a moment he reciprocated but then pulled away, her lipstick leaving his white shirt stained red.

"I think you really need to go home."

Falling all over him as he steered them through the crowded party, Lena lost any real sense of what was going on and let herself be all but carried. She did not recollect whom they said goodbye to or who looked at her with concern or who drove them home. Or even that it was raining, a cold ugly rain that should have mildly brought her out of her stupor. But it didn't. She barely even remembered Roger helping her pull off her concert clothes in exchange for sweatpants and a tshirt once within the confines of their home.

The next morning, or rather afternoon, when Lena awoke her whole body ached and her head was pounding. Her stomached stirred involuntarily and she launched herself from the bed and toward the bathroom, causing the room to start spinning. She barely made it before she spewed her insides into the toilet, the commotion causing Roger to come quickly up the stairs.

Guilt coursed through her, having more of an effect than the ripping pain in her head, and she could barely look at him as she vaughly recollected the words she'd said many hours before.

Later, sitting across from him in their little kitchen clutching her second cup of coffee and a bagel, he still looked at her with heavy concern etched on his face.

Their conversation this morning had been stiff and halting and dancing around the question she knew he wanted to ask. Finally he did.

"Did you mean what you said last night?"

"I don't remember all of it-"

"How much of it do you remember?"

"Enough to know," she paused, feeling her eyes beginning to water, "know that I meant it." 

-

Part 13 - 24 December 1976 - Berkeley Square

In the last few months things had gotten better as both Roger and Lena had taken steps to live a more normal life. There were less public occasions that Lena felt obligated to attend, and when there were, Lena felt heard and as if the rest of the band was acutely aware of her, and tried their best to shield her from the life she did not want. But that did not stop the world from continuing on. 

Life had seemed to fall more into a normal rhythm and level out to a point of being okay. There were no more rambling drunk conversations and no more vocalized existential crises. Lena had begun to feel as if it would work out and not end in some incalculable disaster.

This particular party had purpose and was not intended for the mindless assortment of people that were commonly invited, but family only in celebration of the holiday season. Countless hours of work had gone into decorating Roger and Lena’s home, cleaning up the non-existent mess in order to spruce up it up for the special occasion. The lights were hung, the tree taking up too much of the living room and a fire burned steadily in the fireplace. Lena had crafted the perfect table settings and was only waiting for the turkey to be done as the guests began to arrive. Lena supposed that they barely even counted as guests given that she saw them all nearly everyday, but tonight was different with the decorated house and specially prepared feast. 

“Darling you’ve done such a wonderful job, the house looks glorious,” Freddie said sweeping in the front door.

“Really she did outdo herself,” Roger interjected.

“You helped. Sort of,” Lena replied.

“Well, I helped cook at least.”

“Exactly.”

By the time the turkey was done the house was brimming with Christmas cheer as everyone had arrived. John and Veronica beamed at Freddie holding their now year old son Robert as Brian begged to be the next one to hold him. Kashmira sipped a glass of champagne and kept glancing conspiratorially between Lena and Roger despite fully knowing that they were a couple, teasing them even in their own house. Freddie’s mother beamed happily at her son and congratulated him again for his recent album release and the family he had found because of it. 

A light snow had begun to fall outside as Lena rallied them all to the dining table. A prayer was said over the meal and Roger took it upon himself to overly ceremoniously carve the turkey.

“Would you just hurry up and make less of an event of it,” Brian complained, “I’m absolutely famished.”

Roger shot him an amused glance and proceeded even slower in his serving of the meat. 

Sitting next to Roger mid-way through the meal Lena was quiet; this was her family, more so than she had felt in many years. Roger continually squeezed her hand in happy reminders that he was there, Freddie’s laughter bubbled in the room, Brian continuously joked, and Deaky looked so elated to have been able to bring his son and properly include him into the band family. Everything glowed with golden firelight and joyous laughter. After dinner was cleared away they each exchanged presents, despite having vowed to only purchase small little gifts for one another. The night drew on and the fire burned low and voices fell to a murmur. More champagne was poured, Freddie’s parents went home and Lena rocked little Robert in her arms. 

Brian had been staring at Lena for the last five minutes and finally she interrupted his gaze.

“Bri, what are you staring at?”

“Just you. And Roger. And thinking about how you guys will be one day.”

Lena’s heart twisted, knowing what he meant. 

“What do you mean?” Roger asked, only half paying attention.

“Just that you guys will one day have a little one and it won’t be like this forever. And we will all have our own families to share Christmas with.”

“Oh. Right,” Roger responded, shooting Lena a glance, but not so much that anyone else noticed. Lena bit her lip hard in an effort to maintain a straight face and cast her eyes down. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said, carefully passing Robert to Veronica. 

In the kitchen, Lena poured herself the last of the champagne, an aching pain slowly growing in her heart.

“Lena love, are you alright?” Roger asked, having followed her and quietly entered the kitchen.

A single tear fell and she hastily wiped it away, “No.”

“I’m so sorry love,” Roger said as he came over and enveloped her in his arms.

“No I’m sorry. I’m the one who can’t have kids. And, and-” she sniffled. 

“Lena, we’ve discussed this before. It will all be fine, we can adopt or just not have kids. Whatever you want.”

“I just want you to be happy. And for you to have your own kids.”

“Just you are enough to make me happy.”

“That is the most cliche thing you’ve ever said,” Lena said, now laughing through tears.

Roger grinned, “Thanks, are you ready for more cliche?”

“Uh no?”

“Just you wait.”

Many hours of talk and laughter later everyone had said their goodbyes and shared a chorus of “Merry Christmas” and Lena was still wondering what on earth Roger could possibly be planning. 

“Put on your coat! Let’s go!” Lena’s eyes shot open in exasperation, “Where? It’s nearly midnight!”

“Exactly, we mustn't be late!”

Completely and utterly confused Lena followed Roger out the door and into the car where they drove through empty streets into the heart of London. Finally he stopped the car and demanded that she close her eyes.

“Roger this is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Exactly, and that’s why you love me.”

Lena rolled her eyes before conceding and letting Roger lead her what seemed like several blocks before stopping. There was no wind, but she the snow falling lightly on her skin. Only the occasional sound of a car passed by and she couldn’t place where they would be given the place they had traveled to. The closest place she could fathom was Hyde Park, but that still seemed like too far a walk from where they had parked. 

Finally Roger stopped her. “Don’t open just yet. Wait twenty more seconds ...”

“Rog-” 

“Just wait.”

“Okay and open…. Now.” And she did. And as she did so the sound of music filled the vacant square. 

There was a deep, snow muffled silence in Berkeley Square aside from the song echoing around them. The only movement was their own as Roger had grasped Lena’s hands and began lazily waltzing her through the snow. It was the same song they had danced to the night they met, the one Brian had sang that night, and the same one that Roger had played again when they’d first moved into their house. And now it was echoing through the streets after which it was named.

“Rog, how-”

“Like Freddie always says, don’t ask, it ruins the magic.”

“You know I really don’t think it does.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Thank you Rog.”

“Merry Christmas Lena,” he said as they clung to each other, slowly swaying around the empty square to the rhythm of their song. 

The moon that lingered over London town;

Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown

How could he know we two were so in love

The whole darn world seemed upside down

The streets of town were paved with stars

It was such a romantic affair

And as we kissed and said goodnight

A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square

-

Part 14 - 31 December 1976 - Last Party

She thought it would get better but it didn’t. She thought that relief of some of the stresses she’d been carrying would allow healing to come and allow her time to battle all the other things that she had for so long let sit. But now those things she had forgotten about, the pain, the anxiety crept upon her in her relaxed state, and again she found herself afraid that those terrible things had only gone away because she had been too busy to notice them, not because she was getting better. 

It was one of those days where she didn’t ever quite wake up and every single human interaction felt forced and she felt guilty that it was so. Even seeing the people she loved most in the world was draining and from the moment she woke up, she felt the inherent need to immediately go back to sleep. 

She didn’t want to have to fight this battle anymore, this betrayal of her mind to itself, this cycle of thinking she was stronger, better, and living life and then discover that she was in fact not. 

Clad in her little black dress and red leather jacket, Lena clung to Roger’s arm as they entered into the New Year’s party being thrown on behalf of the band, for the band, or by the band; she couldn’t really remember and didn’t really care. Everyone that she knew and everyone she didn’t know was there; what felt like half of London was crammed into the space. It was all too dark and too bright simultaneously with glitters and golds illuminating the low lit space. Light reflected off glasses and laughter tinkled just below the music being pumped into the room. Immediately Lena searched for the source of the music and thought it comical that that’s all that mattered to her even after so long; that it was the music she first thought of. 

“Hellooooo loves! Welcome to the last party of the year!” Freddie sung, having spotted them.

“You really outdid yourself on this,” Lena deadpanned.

“I know you don’t like these parties love, but you don’t have to stay all that long if you’d like. It's all up to you. Do try to have some fun?”

“Thanks Fred.”

“Look,” Roger shouted in her ear, as that was the volume needed to be heard over the hoard of people, “There’s Kashmira over there with the rest.”

Lena followed his gaze and sure enough, John, Brian, and Kashmira were somewhat awkwardly occupying the adjacent corner.

“Why do you all look so awkward over here?” Roger joked when they had made their way over. 

“Seriously, you look like you’ve adopted my attitude toward parties,” Lena added.

“I’m not nearly drunk enough for that,” Kashmira said, shooting Lena a wink.

  Lena scowled at her in response, but knew she was right; usually Lena did get very drunk in effort to avoid her problems. Not a great choice.

“Well?” Roger asked again.

“No reason really,” John said, “Neither Veronica, nor Chrissie,” he said nodding at Brian, “wanted to come. And I’m only just dropping in because I have to get back to be with Robert.”

“See Rog, why did we even come?” Lena wined.

“Because you wanted to see meeeee!” Kashmira chimed in, “Everything is much more fun with you here. Everyone else is a boring drunk. You’re a philosophical funny drunk and wonderful to hang with. Sober too of course.”

“And Freddie really wanted us to come. We don’t have to stay long if you don’t want,” Roger said. 

“Alright then,” Lena said, “Somebody get us some champagne! We have 1976 to celebrate. And 1977 can only be better, right?” 

With Kashmira there the party was ever more fun than usual and Lena found this to be a rare occasion in which she was actually enjoying herself. Perhaps it had to do with the band staying secluded together, laughing in the corner or the fact that she was not in the least incoherent from alcohol. Maybe it had been a mistake to have fallen into Roger’s arms drunk after parties for the past year. 

However, as the night grew later and midnight neared the party dissolved and only Kashira remained by Lena’s side. She could see Brian snaking his way toward the door and no sign of John. Roger’s shock of blonde hair stood out even from across the room where he stood talking to a dark haired woman whose name she could never remember. Freddie bobbed between groups as he usually did, making conversation with everyone. Lena’s eyes shifted back to Roger and found him where he was only a moment earlier, however this time she looked harder at him, observing.

He maintained a respectful distance from the gorgeous woman, but she could see how happy he was. Perhaps it had to do with who he was talking to and perhaps not, Lena found she was not even jealous of the way he was looking at her. Instead she realized that he had chosen not to stick by her side, and that anytime she was with him in public, he only looked at her with anxiety, stressing about whether or not she was okay. Public occasions never seemed fun for him anymore. In fact, it seemed that much of his life revolved around Lena’s problems with fame. Suddenly all of the comfort the previous hours had granted faded away and she felt very much out of place. 

“What’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost,” Kashmira asked. 

“Something about me is wrong. Not physically, just something isn’t right. I’m not even sure what it is or why. Maybe I need some whiskey. Or some music turned up so loud that I can’t hear myself think. I don’t know.”

“Both of those can be arranged you know,” she said in true Freddie fashion. 

Before Lena had a chance to interject, Kashmira scampered away in the direction of Freddie. Five minutes later she returned, glass of whiskey in hand. 

“I have requested that Queen play us an end of the year song. Very loudly. Very obnoxiously. And here’s you drink.”

“You didn’t have to-”

“Freddie has been on the peruse for someone to ask him to play all night. Just let him.”

“Well he’d better hurry because he needs at least one guitarist I think and Brian has been trying to leave for the last hour.”

“Valid point. I’ll go catch him.”

In another five minutes Kashmira had effectively, much more effectively that Lena had ever seen, rounded up the three remaining members and coerced them into doing a song for everyone. Feedback scratched through the house’s sound system and Brian could be heard complaining that the guitar Freddie had handed him was absurdly out of tune.

“In case you’re just boring enough to have not heard anything off our new album, here is a little sample for all you lovely people as we close off the year. 

They jumped into a screeching, crashing version of Tie Your Mother Down and then spluttered into a fast and heavy version of Somebody To Love, both of which sounded a bit off without John. And it was loud. So loud. Loud enough to block out Lena’s immediate thoughts. 

“Better?” Kashmira yelled in her ear and proceeded to hand her another drink. 

“Much,” Lena said and smiled.

A few minutes to midnight the song concluded, or rather abruptly stopped, and everyone was bustling with new movement to have a drink and someone to kiss in the new year. In a brief moment of despair Lena realized she stood alone.

Even as the countdown began she still remained standing alone, eyes searching the yelling crowd for the shock of blonde hair she knew so well. The despair that had previously been only a small pond overflowed into a sea, causing a heart wrenching twist in her stomach. 

At the last moment framilair hands gripped her waist and spun her around. 

“I nearly couldn’t find you,” Roger’s lips whispered into hers.

Lena gave a small halfhearted smile, “I nearly thought you weren’t coming.”

Roger gave a small chuckle as if to laugh away her foolish idea, kissing her as the crowd cheered and the first seconds of the new year befell them. 

-

Part 15 - 1 January 1977 - Home Again

The first few hours of 1977 vanished quickly into the night and it was not long before Roger and Lena were once again within the confines of their home. Her red leather jacket was draped lazily across the back of a kitchen chair as the couple shared the first meal of the year together. It was simply over-buttered toast and orange marmalade in combination with coffee that was not in the least conducive to sleeping.Her red lipstick stained the little porcelain cup despite having not reapplied a fresh coat for hours.  It was one of the simplest moments that they had shared, nearly platonic where all of the sudden they were just friends again and the conversation flowed with the same ease as it had when they had first met; witty banter and loving teasing without hindrance of fear of what other people thought.  For some reason this reminder of those days past made her heart contract with desire for a simpler time when she was not so caught up in the world.

She ached for a past that had long since vanished, one that when looking back seemed simple but it had not been. She desired the past in which she had blindly lived, unaware of the life yet to befall her. The future and days she had experienced since that nieve days were not wholly bad, but they weighed on her in such a way that she did not want the future to hold anything with nearly the same weight. 

This thought trickled through her mind but soon fell away as the conversation stilled and the space between them began to decline exponentially. Even after all this time, Roger’s fingertips brushing her hair off her face, just skimming her skin was electric and Lena shivered.

“Cold?” Roger grinned mischievously.

“Mmm, not with you here.”

He chuckled, eyes fluttering closed as he kissed her. 

With ease that always surprised her despite her small frame, Roger scooped Lena up bridal style, causing her to giggle as he carried her through their home.

-

 Part 16 - 1 January 1977 Letters Between

I love you. I chose wrong in coming here and that choice is only hurting the ones I love most in the world. It breaks my heart to leave, and it may feel like I’m breaking yours but it’s not fair for you to promise me forever and me to not be able to give you the life that forever should hold. You should be able to grow old and watch kids grow up and live your life without my living scared in the shadow of you. I can’t do that. To you or myself. 

I really wanted it to be you, I swear to God I did. You were the shot of truth I didn’t know I needed, but everything good must end eventually. Thank you for dancing with me. 

Love Always,

Lena 

-

Part 17 - 1 January 1977 Continued: Further Between

She’d shoved a needle through her cartilage to reopen the long closed piercing which she had long since stopped wearing.  Scissors went to her hair and too efficiently, like she had done it before, her long locks fell into the sink before her. She gazed at her reflection in the fingerprinted airport mirror, silently trimming a last few pieces of stray strands to their desired length. 

Her stomach churned and although she’d eaten only hours before, her body told her she was empty, every bit of energy was gone, a piece of her had suddenly gone missing. She’d removed it. And by her own account. She was nauseous, but only from the position she had placed herself in; hungry for some happiness that didn’t exist; tired but with only slight dark circles, anxiety knotting in her stomach, but her thoughts clear.

Lena watched as her reflection’s glittered and hot tears streamed down her face. As she put the scissors down she noticed her hands were shaking. 

“Last call for New York boarding,” a disembodied female voice chimed overhead.

One more glance in the mirror to assure herself that she no longer looked liked Roger Taylor’s long blonde haired girlfriend who currently looked absolutely tragic, she shoved the tissues she’d had out back into her overstuffed bag full of her favorite articles of clothing and her jean jacket that the band had given her. Aside from that there was nothing else, no remainder of Roger. Except of course, she pondered, except for the red leather jacket. That was the one gift with which she could not part. 

She reached into the jacket harshly to pull out her boarding pass, hurried now and afraid she’d chicken out and afraid that she wanted to. In doing so she jammed her hand against a slice of cold metal.

She had recalled stowing it there the night before, the little shard of crash symbol. It cut at her hand and heart as she gripped it and she considered dropping it on the bathroom floor, leaving it to vanish into the middle of the soon to be busy airport. 

But no, she thought, it will be my little reminder of what I’ve done. 

She wanted desperately for the little shard to be poetic as she zipped it safely away in her breast pocket. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it was desperately and tragically romantic that she kept the little piece of metal as a symbol of the man she’d just left and that she was saving him from heartache and not being able to give him the life she wanted him to have. Or maybe it was a symbol to the way she had cut his heart out with the dulled edge. Or how it would be so beautiful to have that little piece of him with her always and hold only a fraction of the memories that they’d shared. But more likely it was less than that. Only a piece of metal on a string that would haunt her for decades to come, never regretting her choice, but only the way in which she had chosen to carry it out. 

-

Part 18 - 4 January 1977 - On A Jet Plane

Four days. 

Only four days.

Roger slumped alone in the rear of their private jet. The last couple days had been the longest he’d endured in years and they had all been done completely sober. Until now. He rationed that leaving the country as they were forced off to begin rehearsals for their forthcoming tour in the States truly marked the end of hoping she’d return. She would no longer know where he was even if she wanted to. Granted, he didn’t know where she was. He didn’t know if she was okay. He didn’t know if he was okay. 

The puffy lipped stewardess too kindly asked him if he needed anything else and he was ripped back to reality, coldly realizing he’d lost her. Lena was gone.

Roger had woken up that morning to an empty bed, cold sheets and a crackling of paper when his arm had reached out to feel for her. He could hear it still, crackling like his heart had as he read the words written there. Unbelief has stunted his walk down to the kitchen where he found her coffee cup, lipstick on the brim. And nothing else. Not her, just a whisper of her, left behind, but untouchable, graceless as it fleeted away. A ghost. 

In the following days packing to leave, and not ever return to this house he even had pondered, he had run through dozens upon dozens of memories that played through at little reminders of her scattered throughout the house. The lipstick stained coffee cup remained on the counter, an old Led Zeppelin shirt pulled out from under the bed, the ashtray on the balcony. All little reminders. Reminders that flittered past like a broken record, over and over again as he fell into a fitful sleep. 

16 April 1974

He remembered when he had first met her. It was back before Queen had even played that first set on a U.S. stage. He remembered the day well, too well. If he disregarded that she had ever been there, the memory could be held with only excitement. But remembering that she had been there made the memory all the more sweet. Bittersweet.

That night during their set he could not stop thinking about her soft hazel eyes as they had judged him, intaking initial impressions and all the things she had probably heard about him. All of those things she had thought were probably true, but he remembered wanting them desperately not to be. Because this girl, this woman, she was someone who would not be willing to fall for someone like that. Like him. 

But later that night she fell into the circle of friendship the four shared, fitting in like the piece of the puzzle he had not known had been missing. Perhaps, he had thought, it was just her uncanny beauty, for she was beautiful in a way that was classic, old fashioned, not of this age. That was for certain a factor when he had danced with her that night. He had wanted so badly to hold her closer, but a seemingly meaningless dance would have to do. He remembered dancing to the sound of his one of his best friend’s voice, spinning around the most gorgeous girl he thought he had ever seen, and had been content. Not just by the gratification of being a rockstar or because she was a pretty girl, but that he had liked the way she grinned with the side of her mouth and the way her smile would fully reach her eyes each every time. Or the way she would constantly allow her fingers to move, as if she was letting them drift through a viscous fluid. Or the way the lights of the bar and the orange of her shirt made her blonde hair appear almost the color of fresh honey. 

20 November 1974: Live at the Rainbow

It had been to Roger's immense surprise that Lena had agreed to come back to London with the band, but he could not have been more relieved. He had been trying to configure up some way of not losing this gorgeous woman whom he so liked. But her agreement to come overseas with them left him with a nervous excitement in his stomach. This could potentially mean something. She was leaving what she knew to be with them. 

Roger regretted that he did not see her every day, but for the most part he would talk to her every day. He would call and hope she picked up. When she didn't he would take the roundabout way to wherever it was he was going just to be able to slip a note through her letterbox or flowers on her steps. Only the notes he signed, but he hoped that she knew the flowers were from him. When their schedules matched up he would take her on adventures in the city, to all his favorite places and to the places he thought she might like. And he still could not quite determine if he was bold enough to ask her out. Because if he did so, he was afraid he would lose her.

With an internal dialogue raging inside his head, one side arguing for her, the other telling him she would never love someone like him, he threw back a couple shots and ran on to the Rainbow's stage, but not before pausing to squeeze her hand in acknowledgement of where she stood stage side. The whole of the performance he could just see her figure in the shadows, only visible to someone who knew she was there. It was a good night, a good show, something that was likely to be a performance fans remembered for many decades, but he could not focus on that. She was just there, so careless of the fact that he was in love with her. And it was by no means her fault. She was not obligated to love him, he had given her no explicit reasoning to. Because he was still afraid of losing her.

This fixation on whether to tell her he was in love with her or not distracted him the rest of the night, leaving him not caring how he destroyed his drums and even blinded him to the fact that he was treating everyone in vicinity with little respect. He stalked away from the band and her as soon as he could, ignoring Brian’s attempts at convincing him that this was ridiculous and absolutely absurd. But despite his general annoyance at the world, he could not help but feel responsible when Lena lost herself in the sea of groupies as they exited the Rainbow. 

Upon arrival at Freddie's party Roger’s mood had not improved and he made a point to disappear from existence as soon as possible in order to further mull his thoughts under the influence of some stronger drink. He stood on the balcony that overlooked Freddie’s immaculate yard and searched for her within the throng of people below. He wasn’t sure what he hoped he would see, perhaps her in the arms of someone else so he could validly convince himself to forget about her? Just hanging at Deaky’s side because she knew few people at this party? In either case, his thoughts were interrupted when a figure stepped out onto the balcony. He whirled violently, but found that it was only her. God, he wanted to kiss her. Even more so when she contentedly ignored the mood that he knew he was displaying. And to his annoyance she weaned out of him the words she had been looking for and he had been so reluctant to say. And then somehow he was kissing her, after so long of hoping such an occurrence might take place. Even the appearance of Deaky and then the rest of the band couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, for she was suddenly his girl.

November 1976

When he found her cleaning up broken glass and shared a glance with John he had known something was seriously wrong. And when he’d found her later that night on the couch with a nearly full bottle of vodka, he felt a twist of fear. He had never seen her like this before, so seemingly broken. He knew it was the alcohol that had caused this state, but what state had she been in to so necessitate drinking so much?

And when she’d drunkenly confessed her fears to him, he found that it wasn’t that he was afraid for himself, he was afraid for her, that she’d lost herself in trying to be all that was expected of her. It was his fault. His fault his fault his fault, pounded through his head as he’d taken her home that night. And he didn’t know what he could do to make it better. He just knew that he didn’t want it to end in losing her. 

-

Roger jolted awake, those words running spirals in his brain.

  Lose her lose her losing her lost her

He had lost her. Through it all, he’d lost her and she was gone. 

-

Part 19 - 13 July 1985 - Wembley Stadium

Three weeks ago Lena had opened her mail to find an envelope containing a singular ticket and a messy scrawl of words in handwriting she hadn’t seen in nearly a decade.

If you’re in London, do stop in at Wembley. Arrive early. And by early I mean give us a ring and we’ll arrange for you to be stage side. Just like the old days. 

You don’t have to see him. But you will want to see Bowie. 

Please come. 

-Fred

And that’s how she found herself calling her boss back to ask if the contract to work the next six months in London was still available. And then contacting Queen and finding herself on the phone with some new assistant who wanted to know how she had gotten this number. Then Freddie’s voice. And it was suddenly all arranged. They had needed an extra couple organizational assistants anyway and her knowledge of show business was a perfect addition. And so she found herself crowded backstage with hundreds of other people hurriedly running this way and that in some hazy chaos. 

She had been quietly doing her job, keeping out of the way and attempting not to make contact with anyone she knew, but it was only a matter of time before one of the boys noticed her or one of the other acts recognized her as Roger Taylor’s estranged girlfriend. She was hoping for the former, but had a dreadful feeling that it would be the latter.

Checking one last item off her list and assuring that everyone was situated, queued in the correct places and trying to remind herself that she should not have a freakout moment because she’d just seen the back of Paul McCartney’s head go by, she was stopped by a light hand on her shoulder.

“Miss-”

“Yes,” Lena said, and turned to find herself face to face with a grinning David Bowie, his shirt half unbuttoned and tie haphazardly shoved in his pants pocket.

“Ah, it is you. I thought you wouldn’t show. Freddie was just wondering if you were here.”

“Oh?” Lena responded, suddenly slightly dazed that David Bowie actually knew who she was.

“I’m David-”

Lena laughed, “Of course I know! We’ve met before, but that was nearly ten years ago at a birthday party at Fred’s house in London.”

“I wish I could say I remember that. I certainly do remember Fred asking me to come, but the night itself I don’t recall.”

“I don’t blame you. It was the seventies afterall.”

“You say that with such blatant nostalgia,” he said, taking her arm and gently leading her in the direction of where she knew Queen resided. 

“Why else would I be here other than such nostalgia for a time when my life revolved around nothing but music.”

“For perhaps some beloved friends?”

“And they are the heart of that music, wouldn’t you say?” she ended as Bowie gave a small tap on the door of the trailer. 

The door swung open to reveal Freddie, looking sharp as ever, but distinctly different from how the seventies had rendered him; cropped hair and mustache now drove his iconic appearance, the exuberant energy still radiating from his features.

“David how nice of you to drop by-” his eyes shifted to Lena, widening in excitement, “Lena darling! I’m so absolutely delighted that you were able to make it!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she smiled as she was enveloped in a bone crushing hug.

“Lads you won’t believe who it is,” Freddie started, moving away from the door to reveal the rest of the band sitting beyond. 

Lena shot Freddie a look in annoyance that he hadn’t seemed to in the slightest enlightened them that she was to be there. Especially Roger. Whom she had not really wanted to see anyway. But when she locked eyes with him in that moment and her stomach flipped she found herself knowing she had never stopped loving him, not for one second. It was a dull love now, something distant, to be fondly remembered, but it was there nevertheless. This was the first time seeing him face to face since she had gone. There had been three letters and two phone calls between them to cover loose ends, but those had been kept professional, as if on business. Eight years later seeing herself reflected in those blue eyes again her heart fluttered even as her brain told her it was over. 

There was a distinct momentary silence before David excused himself and Brian gave a small cough and they greeted her like old times. After hugs all around, even to Roger, they almost magically fell back into old rhythms of conversation that had long since been silenced. 

When it came time for the band to head toward the stage, the crowd roared and there was a small split second in which Roger and Lena were alone, as the band turned a corner and they were momentarily blocked from the others as someone rolled an amp past. 

“Rog I-”

“Lena, no apologies. Whatever you’re going to say, that was a long time ago. Can we just be friends now and forget anything ever happened between us?”

The question surprised her, causing her to think that maybe Freddie had told him she was going to be there and he’d been putting a lot of thought into them. 

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you to think I forgot us. But I don’t want the future to be defined by all that shattered in the past.”

Lena smiled at him warmly, “Okay Mr. Taylor. I have arrived as Miss Lierens, properly positioned in friendzone but having always loved you.”

“Pinky promise me?” he said reaching out his hand.

Lena laughed, shaking on it, “Pinky promise.”

Those beginning chords of Bohemian Rhapsody, to hear them played live again, to hear the crowd sing with Freddie again, his voice echoing across decades, was unearthly as Lena stood in the wings watching. The waving, flowing mass of people beyond the stage, nearly unimaginable as they dropped into Radio Gaga, complimented them with an even louder cheer. The crowd was clapping along like she had heard a hundred times before but this time to a worldwide audience, one that would likely remember this day for decades to come.

Every moment she had seen before, but today it was on a new level of magical, the things she remembered so fondly; the sheer energy of the moment, caught by camera glares and the boys having the absolute time of their lives. Hammer To Fall’s  intro riff continued the magic,  and the “ready Freddie” in Crazy Little Thing, it was all the joy in life she’d nearly forgotten existed. 

That was only followed by their bounding off stage and Bowie striding on shortly after, sending Lena a wink as he went past.

Never having seen Bowie perform in person, she found he held the stage differently but equally powerfully, powder blue suit glowing, shirt now buttoned up professionally. As soon as it had begun, it was ending, with Lena giggling at the multitude of exuberant tambourine shaking in the midst of a historical moment. Later, looking mildly like he’d recently risen from the grave, yet donned in sparkles, Elton John played Rocket Man at the big white grand piano that took up the stage, and by the end of his set, darkness had begun to fall on the city. 

As the second to last song began, the band joined her in the wings, Brian on her left, arm  stewn over her shoulders, Freddie on her right, his other arm across Roger’s shoulders, and Deaky on the end, all swaying back and forth as music greats sang Let It Be, the stage doused in pink dreamlight. 

-

 Setlist

Ghost of You - 5SOS

All The Young Dudes - Mott The Hoople

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square - Vera Lynn

Love Of My Life - Queen

Time Stands Still - The Hooters

‘39 - Queen

Something - The Beatles

You and I - Queen

Pink Motel - The Glorious Sons

Keep Yourself Alive (Live at the Rainbow ‘74) - Queen

Somebody to Love - Queen

Woke Up New - The Mountain Goats

Leaving, On a Jet Plane - John Denver

Let It Be - The Beatles

[elysianslove]

haikyuu boys that ━━

━━ would absolutely, definitely, 100% get nauseous, dizzy, possibly might faint, while their s/o is in labor. one peak and they’re doubling over the hospital bed, inhaling deeply and exhaling sharply, steeling themselves. some are surprising, some are expected. all are stupid.

iwaizumi hajime; he just cannot. he cannot fathom what is happening. there is no way you’re going through that and surviving. no wonder you’re screaming in pain. of course you’re screaming in pain. he takes one look at what’s going on and just immediately takes a step back, eyebrows raised and hand pressed to his chest like “my god.” he’s an 8/10 though because he is incredibly supportive and those arms are great to grab onto. will not complain for a second (is strangely way too quiet), but he’s worryingly pale. maybe he’s quiet cause if he speaks he’ll throw up. 

miya atsumu; he’s this close to screaming. or crying. possibly both. he can’t tell if he’s scared in general or scared for you or if he’s hurting seeing you hurting. in fact, no one can tell. he just looks like he’s watching an alien abduction happen right before his eyes. like a 6/10 because he probably does actually faint. it’s almost as if he’s the one in labor. and he’s the annoying kind of supportive that makes you want to smack him like shut the fuck up i’m pushing a whole child out of me right now. but his reactions are extremely endearing and hilarious to watch back because he most definitely insisted on filming. 

akaashi keiji; the silent struggler. really doesn’t wanna make it obvious at all. like he really, really, really doesn’t want you knowing that he’s uncomfortable in any way, but he’s like, sweating from how nauseous he is. a big part of it is hating seeing you in pain; he cringes every time you so much as groan or pant. 7/10 because he’s incredibly supportive but his hands are way too clammy :/ like fr get a grip keiji. again, supportive, but his voice is shaky so it’s like, really ineffective. he cries when he sees his baby and it automatically makes him an 11/10.

sakusa kiyoomi; absolute coward. pussy. it’s not about hygiene, he’s just genuinely mortified. keeps asking you’re okay like,,, what do you think, sir? he keeps looking even though every time he does it doesn’t get any better? question mark? you can see him visibly gulping cause he’s in so much shock. like a 5/10 because he forgets to hold your hand. just stands there. eyes wide and mouth parted like a dumb fish. chokes back on his sobs when he hears his baby’s cries and it’s adorable how he brings his hand up to silence himself so maybe he’s a 7/10.

goshiki tsutomu; please he probably has a panic attack mid labor. definitely screams with you and all the nurses and the doctor are like ???? holds your hand tighter than you’re holding his. apologizes the whole time. the whole time. like the doctor asked him if he wants to see what’s happening, which idk why they would consider that a smart idea, and he just wailed like, “baby i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry, can we just adopt?” a 3/10. he’s so cute but. bring someone else if you don’t want to rip your hair out and his. 

kageyama tobio; he absolutely tries to pretend that he’s okay but he just gets really, really quiet once you start delivering and his lips are chapped and his pupils are blown and his face is so pale. he looks like he just got off of a really bad rollercoaster. he’s not even holding your hand you’re just hanging onto an unmoving, lifeless limb. maybe 6/10, cause he could be better in the supportive department but, at least he was quietly panicking. he does have a mini panic attack once his baby is in his arms though. like just starts hyperventilating. it’s okay though! it’s actually kind of cute <3

lev haiba; actually faints. not probably. he actually faints. like all 6′5 of him just drops onto the floor by your bed and you’re like ,,, damn, guess i’m doing this alone then. he wakes up and the first thing he sees is your baby crowning and he just faints again pls. someone has to be there with you, just like to help him to you. he cannot stand straight at all, he’s leaning on the bed the whole time. 5/10 because it genuinely makes you laugh it kind of makes the pain bearable. they have to get a chair in case he just falls back cause he’s just so dizzy pls.

━━ would be so fucking annoying. who the hell let them in this room? why did you agree to this? how are you going to raise a child with them? regrets. so many regrets. 

tanaka ryūnosuke; he’s like annoyingly scared. shut up and calm down for a minute i’m trying to birth your child here. swears so much like “holy shit holy shit that’s a big baby.” like pls you’re trying to push it out of you and he has the audacity to say shit like that? treats it like it’s some sort of volleyball match like he cheers whenever the doctor praises you. maybe a 5/10 cause he’s just annoying, but it’s motivating in a way. accepts any insult you throw at him too, like he’s so on board with it. “yes, i’m absolutely a piece of shit— what do you mean you’re not getting anywhere near my dick babe wait.”

bokuto kōtarō; listen :( you don’t want to think he’s annoying but he lowkey is. he’s trying his hardest to make this an easier experience for you but you just need him to be a little quieter. like this hurts bo, calm down please. you want to match his energy but it’s literally physically impossible. he’s an 8/10 though because you doubt it’d have been possible to go through it without him. bokuto’s incredibly ripped too so he lets you hang onto him and he holds you tightly too, like grips your hands and legs so strong that it’s v physically supportive too. 

kozume kenma; he’s so. quiet. like say something kozume. say anything. he’s just wincing and cringing. 4/10 cause where’s the emotion. lets you hold his hand, like wow you should be honored. insults you back if you insult him???? like what’s that about???? when he sees his baby he does like, sharply intake a breath or whatever cause he doesn’t want to cry but he’s really struggling not to, which is kind of cute you guess. films the whole thing and does like a peace sign with a very nonchalant face but he has a filter on and the filter scans your face too except you’re like screaming. actually a 3/10. 

sugawara kōshi; he’s incredibly supportive yes, but mans will be laughing at you. laughing. at you. probably films you and is like properly giggling and laughing boisterously. is so unfazed by anything and everything he sees. he would so easily be a 10/10 but he becomes a -1/10 just cause he’s an ass. definitely like is breathless and is so mind-blown when he sees his baby. just in awe and in shock that he laughs like, “we made that holy crap.” good to have in the delivery room because he does make the atmosphere easier and more lighthearted, but,,, at what cost? your sanity’s. 

suna rintarō; the amount of times you wanted to punch him you cannot count on your ten fingers. makes some sex joke about how you’re so stretched out. you literally want to deck him. films the birthing process and makes you watch the video when you’re not even done delivering the baby? cause he’s insane i guess? justifies it as “this is a reminder of how strong you are,” like shut up with your bullshit. it’s kinda smart tho cause you can pull this on your kid later but still. he’s so fucking annoying. if you hold his hand too hard he’ll be like “it can’t be that bad stop being such a baby,” and the baby is delivered like an hour early out of spite. a 6/10 tho cause somehow you love him and decided to have a baby with him. 

ushijima wakatoshi; pt.2 to say fucking something??? he’s mostly quiet cause he doesn’t really know what to say, and cause he’s never seen you in this much pain and it’s kind of shocking him. he’s not scared though, cause it’s like, a natural process of human life and the life cycle and all that stuff, he’s just like. taking time to process it. lets you hold his hand though. also if you wanna like give up halfway through he’s annoyingly angry with you like “no. you can’t just give up halfway. stop being a coward.” like why don’t you give it a try toshi??? a 5/10. could do better. 

terushima yuuji; so hyperactive that it’s infuriating. doesn’t even hold your hand, he just stands back and observes and like cheers. literally will jump every time you push, like what the fuck, my love? makes really weird comments like “what does it feel like? does it feel like you’re pooping?” like???? it feels like i’m being torn in half yu :D a 4/10 only cause when you ask if you can slap him he wholeheartedly agrees and the doctor cannot hold their laugh back. also definitely plays like the chika dance and makes the nurses do it with him. probably films a tiktok too. you’re going to kill him after. 

oikawa tōru; he’s trying so hard to be supportive and your backbone but he’s just so jittery and nervous. he’s not going to faint or get nauseous, but he literally cannot stay still. he’s so anxious it’s making you anxious. his hands are shaking when they grip yours, but honestly, completely unbiased of course, an 8/10, cause it really is so endearing. like he’s breathlessly and exasperatingly praising you and you can tell he’s near tears just gasping back sobs so ,,, maybe he’s not that annoying. but he is. he is annoying. a little. 

━━ would be the best of the best. perfectly supportive. a lovely anchor. not too quiet, not too chatty. is so soft and gentle with you. you fall in love with them all over again. 

miya osamu; definitely a 10/10. husband material. he has a cloth that’s just patting away at your sweat. kisses your hand and knuckles. soothingly rubs at your thighs. tells you you’re doing great, that it’ll all be worth it. kisses your forehead. grins at you halfway through when you need that extra motivation. literally all the nurses and the doctor are swooning over him. he’s very nervous deep down but he won’t show it, not for a moment, for your sake. 10/10. can’t stress this enough. 

kita shinsuke; another king! so soft with you when you feel like giving up. just speaks to you in hushed tones like, “you’ve come this far, lovely. you can’t back out now. think of all the happy moments we’ll get to share just a few hours from now.” and you’re like “alright i’m sold.” completely unfazed by anything he sees. okay maybe a little fazed but he just kisses your forehead after sneaking a peak and tells you you’re doing wonderfully. 100000/10. imagine him as the father of your children???? like literally who else would you want????

aran ojiro; wow another inarizaki i sense a trend. except atsumu he’s a pussy. cheers you on quietly, holds onto your legs, breathes with you, smooths your hair back, literally just an angel. if you take a small break he just spends it quietly talking with you to get your mind off the pain. his knuckles are just caressing your jaw and cheek softly till you’ve calmed down. 10/10 obviously. he’s just the right amount of loud supportive and quiet supportive. kisses you full on the mouth when he first hears his baby’s cries and can’t stop thanking you. literally wtf he’s so cute.

kuroo tetsurō; he’s actually surprisingly very serious when you’re delivering the baby. he’s cracking jokes and all before to try and get you less nervous but it’s actually because he’s freaking out. he’s mostly quiet, just holding onto your hand as tightly as you’re gripping his. he holds his breath every time you push. keeps whispering i love you and pressing kisses to your temple. a 9/10 cause he’s so quiet it’s a little scary but he cannot hold back his tears when he sees his baby. kisses you all over your face after. 

satori tendō; very emotional. like so emotional. he’s teary eyed the whole time, just thanking you even if you hadn’t given birth yet. it makes the nurses cry too cause it’s so lovely to see him get so visibly affected by this. he’s just whispering thank you’s and i promise not to let you down ever and i promise to love you forever and you’re pretty sure he’s speaking to the baby you’re birthing at this point. 9/10 cause he made you cry :( no but really he’s a 10/10. super loving, keeps asking you if you’re okay, if you need water, need to hold his hand, anything. angel, fr. 

matsukawa issei; relatively surprising as well because you expected him to be more than just annoying, but he’s just. in awe. he’s so amazed by how much you’re going through, and he just stores it in the back of his brain. literally thanks you for the next 50 years to come. laughs endearingly with you to lighten the mood. 9/10. a point is deducted because he jokingly said that now you’ll be able to take his dick really easily. a nurse choked in shock pls. gets real close after to whisper i love you so that only you can hear. he’s just a dream <3

━━ would not let you move an inch after giving birth. all the work is on them for the next 5 years. 

all of them. not a single one is left out in this one. they’re annoying but ,,, they all love very strongly <3

end note; listen idk what this is. i had a vision where iwaizumi could not handle his s/o giving birth and the thought was actually so sweet to me, just the nurses laughing at him and he’s just breathing deeply to try and not throw up and then. this happened. anyways. this helped put me in a better mood so i hope it does/did for anyone else too! 

[storiesforallfandoms]

and the winner is... ~ eminem

word count: 1784

request?: yes!

“hey, love your writing sm ❤️ I really like the concept where the reader is a young actress with Eminem, so can I request one where they go to Marshall’s award show for the first time publicly, they try to keep it low key but the reader presents an award and when Em wins they share a warm moment on stage and the media loses it? thanks in advance”

description: in which they say they’re going to be lowkey for their first public appearance as a couple, and then he wins the award she’s presenting

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

It was hard to keep my hands off of Marshall as we walked down the red carpet. It was our first public outing as a couple, but Marshall wasn’t very into PDA so we had decided to keep it somewhat lowkey. It seemed like a good idea in theory, until Marshall did the unthinkable and showed up dressed in a suit. How am I supposed to not jump his bones when he looks damn fine in a suit?

Every time I so much as glanced at him the paparazzi would go crazy. So many flashing lights that eventually I was seeing spots. It was hard to keep smiling when I couldn’t even see ahead of me.

Marshall put an arm around my waist - which of course led to more flashing lights - and walked me off the red carpet into the venue. The minute I walked through the doors into the dimly lit room, it really was like I couldn’t see. I had to take a minute to let my eyes adjust to the sudden light change.

“Weird how quickly I go from basically a nobody on a red carpet to a hot commodity just because I have attractive arm candy,” I joked.

A half smile tugged at Marshall’s lips. “You were never a nobody. Not to me anyways.”

“Awe, that’s so sweet it’s kind of gross,” I teased.

This earned me an actual laugh as Marshall pulled me in for a kiss. Without any prying eyes around, we felt free to actually be a couple.

We engaged with some others in the industry, including those Marshall considered to be close friends of his. I felt out of place at this music award show as an actress who was still trying to become more than just a side character in the movies she starred in. I was grateful to have Marshall there to help me through it.

When we took our seats as the show was starting, Marshall reached over to take my hand. “Are you okay?”

I shrugged. “Nervous I think. Which I shouldn’t be because it’s just me announcing an award, but it’s my first time on an award show stage for any reason, and it’s a pretty big award.”

“And it’s one I’m nominated for.”

I looked over at Marshall with wide eyes. “What?!”

“You didn’t know?”

I shook my head. Now I felt so much more nervous. What if I pulled a Steve Harvey and said the wrong name because I wanted Marshall to win? Or what if he actually did win but everyone thought I said he did because we were dating? I tried to focus on the stage ahead of me but my heart was beating so fast that my vision was starting to get blurry. I felt warm, like I was sweating, which made me worry that my makeup was starting to run. I was going to look disgusting with my makeup running on live television.

Sensing my new found nervousness, Marshall gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, look at me.” I glanced over to meet his gaze. “It’s going to be okay. You’ve rehearsed this speech so much that you can say it without the teleprompter. It’s not going to be any different just because I’m nominated. If I win, you give me the award and I do a speech. If I don’t win, you give the award to whoever does and they make a speech. It’s not a big deal, (Y/N), don’t worry too much about it.”

I wished I could’ve just let my fear rush from my body, but it was still there. Before I could say anything else, the lights went down and the show officially started.

I tried to just sit and enjoy the show but it was hard when I had my upcoming presenter role looming over me. Of course, it was one of the last awards of the show, so I had to sit there and let my nerves build as the suspense for the winner of the award grew as well.

Every now and then Marshall would give my hand another squeeze and I would calm down for that split second. Having him by my side helped a lot, but every time I remembered that he might be the recipient of the award I became nervous again.

Finally, it was my time to take the stage. They passed me the envelope with the name of the winner and motioned for me to take the stage. I plastered a smile on my face as my name was called and I walked onto the stage. I hoped the cameras couldn’t pick up my shaking, and I really hoped my shaking wouldn’t make my voice sound as bad as I feared it would.

“This award can only go to the best of the best,” I started, glancing at the prompter in front of me to make sure I was saying the words correctly. “The person who worked the hardest and had the best payoff with their release. The competition this year is fierce, and it was hard to narrow it down to just these five artists, as there have been so many amazing works of art released this past year. It has been an even harder choice to pick who of them all is the best, although I might be bias in saying I’ve already chosen my favorite.”

The audience chuckled at my improved addition to the speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen, here are your nominees.”

I watched the video that played of the nominated artists. My heart skipped a beat when Marshall came up, a few clips from the music videos he had filmed playing in a short montage. He had worked so hard on his latest album, every part of me hoped that he would be the winner I was announcing.

As the video came to an end, I turned back to face the audience (and the cameras) to announce the winner.

“And the award goes to...”

I tried not to let my slight fear show as I fumbled with the envelope for a moment. I started to worry that I wouldn’t even be able to open it and completely embarrass myself on live TV. I tried not to sigh with relief when the seal perfectly popped open and I was able to pull the card out. The smile on my face had to have given away the winner before the words were even out of my mouth.

“Eminem!”

The crowd cheered and stood from their seats. A camera found Marshall, who was standing from his seat and hugging Paul and Denaun before making his way to the stage. I couldn’t help but smile proudly at him as I extended the award I was holding - his award - to him.

I was taken by surprise when he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. It was brief since he had an award to accept, but it was enough to make my head spin, the way his kisses usually did.

When he pulled away I was still so stunned that I almost forgot to give him his award. I could see him trying to hold back a laugh as he took it from my hands and turned to the microphone.

“Thank you,” he said to the still cheering audience. For a minute I forgot there was anyone else in the room, and realizing so many people had watched that kiss made my cheeks heat up. “I’d like to thank my manager, Paul, who for some reason still backs me with everything I do and produce even when it pushes the boundaries a little too much. I also want to thank the good Doctor, who has been supporting me since day one and who has always believed in me and gave me this platform to make music and to push the boundaries that Paul has to deal with. My daughters, my biggest inspirations. And of course, I’d like to thank the beautiful lady who presented this award to me tonight. I may not show it publicly but I am my happiest when I’m with you and I cannot thank you enough for that.”

I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes as I clapped along with the audience. The music started playing as Marshall offered me his arm to walk me off the stage. I felt like I was floating on cloud nine as we walked down the stairs and backstage, away from the cameras and the thousands of people watching us, both in person and on TV.

We were greeted backstage by other presenters and winners who were still mingling and celebrating their wins. Marshall was congratulated and a few of the other presenters told me how well I did with my presentation. I was proud of myself for getting through it, but I was more proud that I didn’t go completely airheaded after Marshall kissed me.

When we finally got away from the large amount of people, Marshall pulled me in for another kiss.

“So much for keeping it lowkey, huh?” I teased when I pulled away.

“I was caught up in the moment,” he said with a shrug, but I wasn’t completely convinced.

“That speech was uncharacteristically sweet,” I said. “For your public persona anyways. I figured you’d keep it short and sweet and maybe get the show into a little bit of trouble with an unplanned curse word.”

He chuckled. “Well normally that would be how things go. But I meant what I said during my speech: you make me the happiest I’ve ever been. When you said my name I just couldn’t help but feel this unfamiliar surge of happiness and excitement at winning. You know I don’t care about these types of award shows, but the fact that you presented this award to me made me care for just a second. I know I’ll be the talking point for the next few days because of this, but right now I don’t care all that much.”

Tears were welling in my eyes again as I pulled him back to me. “Shut up, you’re gonna ruin my makeup.”

His laugh filled my ears as he pulled me for another kiss. The happiness he said he felt coursed through my veins too. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else in a moment like this.

When he pulled away he put his arm around me again and started to walk towards the door. “Let’s get out of here. I think I wanna celebrate my win with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

I smiled brightly at him. “I like the sound of that.”

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. II

➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 10k

➵ warnings : none really, swearing, mainly fluffy and funny interactions, some angst! :o 

➵ a/n: and i’m back with chapter two! i really wanted to say thank you for the love and support i received on the first part of maybe i do, it was astounding!! i’m so grateful so many people loved the story and asked to be tagged (all at the bottom <3), it made me feel so motivated to write. if you would also like to be tagged please message me. your feedback is always appreciated! 

chapter two : “on my pillow, can’t get me tired” 

prev. ↞ || ↠ next  || masterlist

Taehyung didn’t remember sleeping anywhere near you last night. 

He remembered that even though you willingly agreed to share the same bed, he still opted for caution and slept with the most space between you two as possible.

Though when his eyes fluttered open the next morning, eyeballs burning from the light that bled into the suite, the first thing he realized was that he was not on his side of the bed from last night. 

No, he had somehow gravitated towards the center, and as if almost on cue, your slight movement and the sound of your breathing alerted him of your nearby presence. 

Peering down at you, Taehyung caught sight of your sleepy head turned towards him and lying on his arm, his other thrown over your torso with you unsuspectingly nuzzled into his side.

Taehyung’s eyes shot open, acknowledging he had succumbed to his habit of hugging something to sleep during the course of the night and he internally panicked. He began retracting his arms slowly, just about drawing himself from you until alarms rang in his head at the sight of you stirring in your sleep. 

Taehyung took the golden opportunity to sit up in a flash, having to physically shake his head to rid the image of your tranquil, sleeping face from his brain, crushing the thought that it was kind of cute.

He found himself chanting the same denial from last night, he couldn’t be thinking of such complicated things concerning you when he knew the second he’d step foot inside his home, there’d be a mountain of paperwork ready for him; even more on his work desk.

He had to be thinking about his job, not you.  

Even if Taehyung was married now, it wouldn’t lessen the amount of work that plagued his life nor make it any less demanding. If anything, his life would be harder now considering the fact that he had another priority to add to his list, another aspect of his life he had to split his attention between. 

He didn’t necessarily hate the idea, just found himself needing to work harder than he already was. 

Taehyung sighed heavily at the thought and swung his legs off the bed, rubbing his tired eyes. He took a moment to look back at you, thinking if he observed you a second time he’d be able to piece together how the hell you two ended up in that position, that close. 

By evidence of the forgotten blanket half-thrown off you, he could see you were the tossing-and-turning type, maybe the only explanation for your proximity considering he was the same. 

He also noticed you slept all curled up, like you were cold and the only warmth you knew was snuggling yourself.

Cute.

There it was again, cute. 

Why does that word even exist? 

Taehyung discarded the notion altogether and stood to his feet, stretching out his stiff muscles. He made for the bathroom eagerly to begin his day, though not without fixing at least some of the blanket back onto you. 

“You don’t have a driver?” 

“Not for everywhere I go. I have two hands, I can drive myself.” Taehyung made it a statement to jazz hands at you, showcasing the perfectly capable limbs he was gifted with.

“That’s.. nice, actually. I always see asshole CEO’s getting other people to drive them around.” You relayed as you trailed behind Taehyung, letting him lead you towards the front of the hotel where dozens of expensive cars lined the curb side.

You had no clue which luxury vehicle belonged to Taehyung because quite frankly, he could probably afford every car your eyes caught sight of. It wasn’t until he approached a certain one and retrieved his keys from the valet that your jaw completely dropped, floored.

“This is your car?” You gawked, the sleek design, crispness of its shape and nearly sparkling gloss completely sweeping you off your feet.

“Yeah, think someone like me can’t get a car like this?” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow, gesturing towards himself.   

“It’s just-wow. Mercedes CLS?” You inquired without really looking at him, inspecting the car instead as you admired its every curve. Safe to say, you were beyond in love with it. Even if you were always more of a minimalist and preferred the average product, there was just something gorgeous about luxury cars that appealed to you.

“Yeah, actually it is.” Taehyung looked at you impressed, momentarily reminded of just how different you were compared to any other woman he’s chanced upon. 

How many of them knew car models?

Taehyung was intrigued by the fact before speaking with one of the hotel workers, confirming if they had loaded his car with both your luggage and some wedding sentiments your parents insisted you keep. 

Once receiving affirmation Taehyung made towards your side of the car and pulled the door open. He flashed you a tight-lipped smile as he gestured for you to hop in, drawing you out of your stupor. You thanked him warmly before sliding into your seat. 

He let you scramble in comfortably before shutting the door and walking to his side, positioning himself in and clicking on his seatbelt. He watched as your expression lit up once occupying the car, face beaming with excitement as you touched and drank in at the high-end features the vehicle had to offer. Taehyung found himself smiling before he licked his lips and straightened his face, igniting the engine and beginning the smooth drive. 

It was easy to settle the debate on where you both would be living. Taehyung was an enormously rich CEO who lived in an expensive, massive home while you lived in a measly apartment. You knew it was useless to live separately, even more useless to have him live with you. And so you agreed without protest to pack your things and relocate, begin your move into the house you’d share with him for a lifetime. 

The car ride remained quite silent, you mindlessly bopping your head to whatever mainstream song played on the radio, while Taehyung tapped his fingers against the steering wheel or his lap. 

You found your eyes wandering to his slender fingers wrapped around the wheel every so often, sometimes venturing to the other one he placed against his thigh. You began reprimanding yourself once you realized with all the staring, observing and ogling, you most certainly had a thing for his hands already. 

Fuck. 

They were just so big, bigger than what you’ve seen of the average man and it didn’t help that they looked crafted to perfection. 

There was just something about the veins that decorated them, his palm large in size as his fingers seemed deft turning and working the steering wheel. His little accessories like a ring or two, bracelets and his watch did absolutely nothing to deter your interest either.

It only increased once you realized he looked good driving, really good. You knew men had this common attractiveness to them when they drove, watching them all focused and effortlessly working the car somehow sexy; but watching Taehyung drive was another experience entirely. 

He looked insanely hot, and you felt like throwing yourself out your window for even thinking such a thing. It was another case of you ogling him without realizing until his deep voice suddenly fished you out of your thoughts, questioning. “Did you like the wedding?” 

“Huh?” 

“The wedding, did you like it?” Taehyung repeated, glancing at you. 

“Does it really matter if I did?” You asked, this one phrase seeming to perfectly sum up the misfortune of your life, provoking an ironic laugh even. 

“I think it does. A bride should always enjoy her wedding.” 

“Well, I didn’t.” You deadpanned, your expression turning frustrated having to remember that one of, if not the most special night of your life had just been robbed of you, thrown to the wolves while you were only left to accept the sad fact. 

“C’mon, you didn’t enjoy a single thing?” Taehyung didn’t mean to flash back to the kiss you two shared, though found himself doing exactly so. 

You didn’t enjoy that? he questioned in his head. 

“Not really, I just imagined having more choice in the wedding.” You answered honestly, trying not to sulk so much. “It’s not you, I just... thought I’d be able to decide things at my own wedding. I’m grateful your parents did so much, but I didn’t really get to choose anything.” You grew more solemn as your gaze fixated on nothing, watching the world pass you by through the car window. 

“My favourite flowers weren’t even there.” You said only despondently to yourself, shoulders drooping, though Taehyung didn’t miss it. 

“You don’t like roses?”

Your eyes flashed towards him with furrowed eyebrows, surprised he heard your comment. You straightened up before shrugging back a response. “I like peonies.” 

Taehyung looked at your side profile as you turned away, finding the conversation turning more sorrowful than he liked. He allowed some silence to linger as you leaned your chin against your palm, boringly watching the bustling streets.  

He decided to change the subject.

“So you don’t think I’m an asshole, huh?” 

“What?”

“You said you always see ‘asshole CEO’s’ getting people to drive them around. But I don’t, so I’m not an asshole to you?” Taehyung halved his attention between you and the road, glancing in your direction with one hand working the steering wheel.

You thought the question over, “No, you’re not an asshole.” You said simply, distracted by the thoughts that previously occupied your mind. 

“I see.” Taehyung pursed his lips. Another beat of silence passed through the downcast air before Taehyung perked up again.

“Is it just the driving? Or do you have other criteria?” Taehyung asked inquisitively, leaning back into his seat as he observed you. 

You could detect from the corner of your eyes the way his stance drew attention to his legs, thighs broad as he sat. “I guess there is.” 

“Like what?”

You didn’t really know why Taehyung was so curious. You thought it was common knowledge what the stereotypical asshole CEO was like; they were nearly all jerks with horrible one-percenter mentalities and treated people like gravel.  

You scoffed a bit. “They’re usually so full of themselves. They act like they own the place all the time, which makes sense at their own companies but not everywhere else. It’s like the position gets to their heads. Even the way they talk is condescending, belittling, or straight up rude to anyone not on their level. It wouldn’t kill to be nice.” You revealed almost too eagerly, avoiding eye contact with Taehyung as you viewed the traffic on the road ahead, remembering he was a CEO himself. 

Long story short, you’ve had your fair share of experiences meeting them as you grew up during the beginnings of your father’s company. They were quick to skew your opinion ever since you watched the way they treated your father all due to having a start-up, for simply being small in name or reputation. They acted like he was less than, some even daring to behave as though his company would simply never make it. 

It always boiled your blood, left an extremely distasteful image of CEOs and the business world in your head. 

And you were certain it all sucked after that. 

“Understandable.” Taehyung nodded agreeably. “But you think I don’t fit any of that?” He rested a hand against his thigh, sitting laxed as he spread his legs apart further. This time it was definitely hard to miss the way they appeared, all laid out and long as your eyes drank him in, following up his thighs all the way to his-

“You don’t. I thought maybe since you’re super successful you’d be full of yourself. But you’re not, really.” You snapped yourself out of whatever the hell you were doing, trying to refocus on the conversation.

“Ah, seems like a stepping stone.” 

“Stepping stone? Towards what?”

“Towards you not hating me.” His voice came out with a more solemn timbre than you expected, his jaw tightening for a mere second. 

Taehyung only thought such a thing because even if he decided you didn’t harbour negative feelings towards him, there was no way of him determining whether that was true or not without your real input. 

“I don’t hate you, Taehyung. I don’t.. think I can.” You claimed with poignancy, his statement causing you to reflect on your own feelings about him. 

You don’t hate Taehyung, you couldn’t because he did absolutely nothing wrong in this situation. He was dragged in just like you were. You only despised the unfairness of the arrangement, not him. 

There wasn’t much to hate about him.  

“So you’re saying you like me then, aren’t you?” Taehyung suddenly teased light-heartedly, all smug as his amused eyes flickered to you. 

“Shut up, I never said that.” You turned away, scandalized by his remark. 

“I’m kidding. But, why do you think you can’t hate me? I pretty much.. ruined your life.” Taehyung internally felt his chest tighten at the words, remembering the exact thoughts from where he stood no less than 24 hours ago, seconds from lawfully marrying you. 

“And I didn’t ruin yours?” This time you turned your gaze towards Taehyung, meaningfully. Your eyes instinctively communicated your emotions as they locked with his for a moment, Taehyung all attentive. 

“I took away from you just as much you took away from me. We both ruined each other’s lives, there’s no use in blaming each other. That’s why I can’t hate you.” You finalized, crossing your arms and opting to watch the passing buildings through your window again. 

Taehyung absorbed your sudden confession with reason, realizing that in a sense, you two were partners in this unfortunate case. Even if your matrimony constituted a forced partnership neither of you liked, there seemed to be a natural comradery in having to deal with the aftermath of that forced partnership. 

Trying to accept it. 

“I don’t think I can hate you, either.” Taehyung admitted, ending the more miserable part of the conversation as you fell silent. You thought he was done until he decided to bother you again. 

“I think you’re still saying you like me, though.” 

You turned to him half-appalled before pointing towards the road, eyes narrowed. “Just drive us home, will you?” 

Taehyung laughed at the moment and pressed down on the accelerator, internally grinning at the fact you never said no to his statement. 

“This is your house?” You found yourself gawking again at something that belonged to Taehyung, stepping inside a luxury home you’ve only ever dreamed of living in. Sure, you lived with your parents until you were 18, though your father was still starting out with his company for most of those years, not exactly owning anything too luxurious until after you permanently moved out.

So as you stood trying to prop your heels off yourself, your jaw dropped at the sheer elegance and high-status look to the interior of Taehyung’s home. You had already done enough gawking at the exterior, but being inside and processing the fact that you were now to inhabit this home for the rest of your life sent another wave of shock. 

You immediately observed Taehyung was the type who decorated his home with only the finest, his taste easily identifiable. Aesthetic, lavish, charming. He seemed like a man of utter simplicity though his home said otherwise, showcasing an artistic, exquisite feel you never really expected from him. 

“When will you stop saying that?” He titled his head and smiled through a laugh, removing his shoes and slipping into his indoor slippers. 

“Right, sorry.” You were still struggling for normalcy, somehow forgetting almost every hour Taehyung’s wealth and only registering it once you saw something that indicated it. 

Taehyung sauntered inside and took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of his abode. He enjoyed nothing more than being home, in the comfort of his own space. Especially for someone who worked so busily, he found pleasure in doing the bare minimum at home. Relishing in the feeling right now, he pressed his lips together in a smile before glancing back at your struggling figure, catching sight of your size. 

His eyebrows shot up to the sky. “Woah, you’re short.” 

“Huh?” 

“I think I’ve only ever seen you in heels.” Taehyung informed. “Now that you’re not wearing them you’re a lot shorter than I thought. You’re tiny.” He pointed out as he eyed you from head to toe, processing the amount of height you lost simply from removing your shoes. 

“I mean, that’s kind of what heels do, you know, they add height.” You deadpanned, stating the obvious for him. 

“Sorry, it’s just..” Kind of cute, he thought, though fought for another response. “I could probably throw you.” 

Nice save. 

“Excuse me? It’s not my fault you’re so tall.” You scowled at him. “Besides, you’re all height and no muscle, you probably can’t even carry me.” 

“Wanna see me try?” Taehyung was already coming towards you with his arms held out and you sputtered immediately, “No, no, no.” you held your hands up defensively. “Let’s just start the house tour, yeah?” you offered a smile for compromise. 

“That’s what I thought.” Taehyung narrowed his eyes coyly and turned on his heel, signaling you to follow him. 

What you realized strolling through the home as Taehyung discussed its details was that it emphatically represented him like an open book. Even if Taehyung was predominantly unreadable and seemed to always hide a mystery behind his eyes, you could see nearly all of him reflected in his home. 

You often found valuable trinkets or sentiments scattered around the house. It seemed like he cherished a lot of things in his life, namely memories or people. It would also be hard to miss the exquisite selection of paintings and embellishments he draped the walls with, all harbouring their own charm and adding to the overall artistic feel of his home. 

There were famous works consisting of Vincent Van Gogh all the way to local Korean artists you’ve never heard of, though admired their work. 

It seemed as though he selected the paintings himself. 

Another large aspect you couldn’t miss were the many photos he kept, calling to question whether they were of his own work. 

“Did you take these?” You approached a shelf in one of his grand hallways on the second floor, hand brushing the wooden frame of a captured photo; six men including Taehyung himself posing comfortably, like they were extremely close, backdrop reflecting what seemed to be a trip.  

“I took all of them.” He stated casually, hands tucked into his pockets as he eyed the shelf along with you. 

“All?” 

He simply nodded and didn’t elaborate further as he watched you admire the photos, yourself impressed by his adeptness for photography. 

“You’re really good.” You complimented absentmindedly, enjoying the other photos of not only people but scenery, empty streets, candid shots from what looked to be his own little adventures. 

“Thanks.” Was all Taehyung could manage, trying to mask the sheer gratitude he felt hearing the first ever person to admire his work; something that wasn’t related to being a CEO or a businessman. 

He also felt slightly embarrassed you’d seen a small part of him he usually hid.

Taehyung continued walking down the hallway until he reached the end, revealing what you could tell was the largest room in the house. You were thrown off by just how unnecessarily large it was. It seriously reminded you of an extravagant hotel suite, more like the grandest one among them. 

“This is our room.” Taehyung introduced, gesturing towards its interior. 

“Our?” 

Taehyung nodded “I should’ve told you earlier but I wanted us to sleep in the same room. If we slept apart our marriage wouldn’t look convincing to my two housekeepers. I trust them but I don’t want any information about us getting out to the public, not over my dead body.” Taehyung stated in earnest as he relayed the information, wandering further into the room. 

“You really care that much about publicity?” you genuinely questioned. 

Taehyung scoffed. “Not me, I couldn’t care less about what people think.” He denied instantly, almost laughably. “It’s my father. He hates bad press, especially concerning our family or the company.” 

“I thought bad press is still press, so it’s good.” You suggested as you followed him further into the room, admiring that though large, his room held a sense of comfort to it. Quite frankly, all of his home felt rather welcoming and cozy, surprising of a CEO who ran such a monstrously successful company.

“My father doesn’t think so. Kim Enterprises has always been generational, each of our CEO positions strictly kept within the family. Our name is our brand and pride, it alone accounts for at least half of our success. We’re extremely well-known for our high status, it’s just plain fact in the upper social circles of Korea. We can’t afford to taint our name with petty things like bad press or corruption, our reputation is too valuable.” Taehyung stated this all nonchalantly as he adjusted his suit jacket in his mirror, like it was something he’s grown accustomed to and has known all his life. 

You found your opinion impeding his words.  

“So you can never just, escape this life? As long as you’re a Kim you’re bound to this company?” You found the concept wildly restrictive, clearly shackling down any person that would run the business and you felt a disagreeing shiver shoot through your spine. 

“Of course, why would you want anything else?” Taehyung tiled his head to the side, eyeing you in genuine questioning and your entire being was trying to bite back the desire to correct him, tell him there’s so much more to life than just some company your family owns. Though you opted for changing the subject instead, unwilling to step on his toes and dictate his life when you knew next to nothing about it. 

It wasn’t your place. 

“Woah, you have a balcony?!” You exclaimed with a simper, eyes flickering towards the curtains that revealed two ajar French doors leading to an open space.

You made towards it excitedly and stopped just in the middle of the platform, enjoying the breeze of the fresh air.

“It’s my favourite part of the house.” You didn’t even realize Taehyung followed you until his towering figure stood directly behind you, feeling his proximity permeate through your body. 

You swallowed. 

“Why don’t you look at the view?” Taehyung cocked his head towards the railing of the balcony, though you didn’t move a step. 

You weren’t about to tell Taehyung you’re terribly afraid of heights.

“I-I can see from here. Wow, looks beautiful.” You perked up superficially, trying to throw him off and changing the subject again. “By the way, what’s our closet situation gonna look like?” 

“Ah, let me show you.” Taehyung strided back into the room towards the sliding double doors you spotted earlier. He almost theatrically glided both dark wooden panels open and your jaw dropped for the 47th time today. 

You were welcomed by a ridiculously large walk-in closet, enough to be renovated into its own bedroom. You simply couldn’t normalize its size, especially after registering every suit, tie, watch or accessory Taehyung stored in the gracious space. 

You couldn’t even begin to imagine how much money lied in here. 

“Oh my God.” Was all you could manage, meandering in sparingly as you viewed each and every expensive piece he owned in the room, no doubt of the highest quality designers, finest of men’s fashion. 

“You don’t have to worry about unpacking and moving in here, the housekeepers will do that for you.” Taehyung watched as you looked upon in awe, finding the way your eyes sparkled with emotion very similar to that of Bambi’s.  

“How will I fit-”

“I specifically made space for you, there’s enough.” Taehyung stated, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. He’d resolved a while ago he really would try to take this marriage seriously, victoriously achieve the work-life balance his father kept preaching. 

He saw giving up his closet space as the first step. 

It was indeed so because Taehyung thoroughly enjoyed fashion. He genuinely adored every suit, accessory and outfit in his collection, though if he wanted to reach this new goal of balance, successfully add you to his list of priorities, then he had to be willing to cut down. 

Even if that meant reallocating a third of his exorbitant wardrobe just for you, he’d try not to mind. 

“Are you sure? I could just use another room’s-” 

“I want to.” Taehyung finalized as his eyes turned unreadable from across the room, locking his gaze with yours and you were only left to look back impressed, his generosity unforeseen. 

“Thank you.” You voiced a little weak, still shy by the suffocating nature of his stare. 

“Don’t mention it.” He offered plainly, propping himself off the wall. He looked off to the side eyeing the empty pockets of space he left for you, until your voice called out to him.  

“Taehyung.”

“Hm?” He snapped his vision back to you. 

You wanted to ask him something, more so a favour and you were unsure how to word the request. “Um.. I didn’t want to ask so openly, but..” You found yourself beating around the bush, timid of what his response would be. 

“Go on.” 

“Um, so it seemed like there were a lot of empty rooms in this house, and I was just wondering if I could maybe.. transform one of them into an art studio for myself?” You winced at your own request. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just I had one at my old place and it really grew on me. I would get most of my work done in that room and gained a lot of inspiration from it. I have a lot of art supplies and designed often in that studio, so I need a home for all my supplies and it would suck getting rid of it all. I’m sorry it means I would have to steal one of your rooms in the house, if you don’t want me to then-” 

Taehyung couldn’t help but break out into a small grin as he watched you ramble on, shyly fidget with your fingers, so apprehensive of asking him for something and it reminded him why he was so eager to provide you with anything you wanted. 

You spent too long trying to do everything on your own, achieve everything on your own, relying solely on yourself. Taehyung could see this all as plain as day, quite enjoying of how he’s never really met someone like you, and wanted you to know you didn’t always have to be so independent.  

Especially with him. 

“Y/N.” He called out to you with the same honey-coloured tone from last night, stopping you. Your eyes flickered to his, awaiting his next sentence and Taehyung already found himself having a thing for your doe-eyes. 

Fuck. 

“Of course you can have a room. You can have anything in this house. It’s yours.” Taehyung stated with a degree of assurance, his eyes locking with yours in earnest. 

You both shared a look as your lips curved into a gracious smile, biting your lip to contain it. His stare wasn’t so much intimidating as it was merely.. calm. Gazing at you for the sole purpose of gazing, and you found some heat rushing to your face under his scrutiny. 

Taehyung seemed to realize he was staring and immediately cleared his throat, turning a little nervous as he began another conversation. “So um, I’m sorry to say this,” he began with unease, almost apprehensive and you didn’t know what he was so sorry about. “But I have work today.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

Taehyung internally winced at your reaction, hands finding his pockets. “I took some time off for the wedding, so now I have twice the amount of work left behind. I need to complete it.” He informed straightforwardly. 

“Our wedding was just yesterday, though, aren’t you tired?” You were only taken aback because you were slightly concerned for his wellbeing, wasn’t he tired from yesterday? You recalled him knocking out almost immediately upon hitting the pillow of your hotel bed last night, snoozing away. 

“Maybe, but I can’t afford to rest. I’ll only have more to complete if I do, so I won’t be spending anymore time with you today.” Taehyung relayed the information, readying himself for the even greater disappointing news he’d be passing on. 

“Actually, we won’t be able to go on our honeymoon, either.” Taehyung thought it was best to slip in all the bad news, growing more and more unrelaxed as he was unsure of how you’d react. 

Though what you said next had him nearly floored.

“Honeymoon? Taehyung, that’s the least of my concerns, you should at least rest a day before getting back to work. That’s not really healthy.” You chastised him as lightly as possible, still afraid to be stepping on his toes when you didn’t know his life. 

Taehyung was certain you’d hate having been stripped of a beautiful vacation where you could’ve relaxed in the sun and tropics of Cancun. Your father had mentioned to him you’ve always longed to visit the breath-taking city in Mexico, its clear waters and tropical air as a means to truly get away from your stifling life. 

So when he found you disregarding the trip altogether and instead focusing on him, more precisely his health, he was left damn well speechless. 

There you were again paying attention to the littlest things about him he didn’t care much for; he still had that bandage you offered him a month ago tucked into one of his pockets, not wanting to use the adhesive just yet. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m just sorry we can’t go on the vacation because of me, it would’ve been nice, you know?” Taehyung apologized, feeling genuinely guilty for having ruined the honeymoon. Even if you two weren’t going to travel as some lovey-dovey couple, you both simply could’ve enjoyed the time off.

“It’s okay, just, at least work from home today. Heading to the office would be too much.” You suggested for the sake of the fatigue you could discern on him. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna be home for the next few days since everyone thinks we’ll be on our honeymoon.” 

“Oh. That’s.. good.” You nodded faintly, half at the idea you two were even faking your honeymoon and half at the blasphemous energy he had to work after yesterday. 

The sleep from last night was nearly not enough to recharge from the antics of the wedding, having drained your batteries for the next few days. You were certain his were drained too; he was half the damn couple. 

“I should get going. I’ll send Mrs. Choi and Seo up with your things. They’re probably finished with lunch too, you should eat.” Taehyung advised as he stepped out of the walk-in closet, running a hand through his gorgeous hair and you couldn’t help but ogle at the sexy way his strands fell back on him. 

“Okay.” You voiced as you followed him out, watching him near the room’s door and just about to vacate the premise before you spoke up. “Taehyung.” 

He stopped in his tracks, peering back at you. “Yes?” 

“You should eat something, too.”

Taehyung half-smiled at you with a nod “Sure”, before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone. 

And you couldn’t help but kind of like the way he smiles. 

It was well into the evening now, bordering dinner time as you helped the last of your clothes into Taehyung’s closet, refusing to let the older housekeepers do all the work by themselves considering it was your own luggage. 

You also tried to occupy Taehyung’s room as scarcely as you could with your belongings, feeling odd about suddenly moving in with all your might and changing things around. It just didn’t feel appropriate, like you were invading his space and so you opted for scattering only your necessary items.

“That should be the last of it, Mrs. Choi.” You retrieved your last piece of clothing from the rather soft-spoken housekeeper, tucking the blazer away among the rest. You were satisfied to see not only your wardrobe neatly organized now, but fit just about right with Taehyung’s things. 

He was right about space, there was enough.

“Mrs. Kim, please rest. You didn't have to move a muscle at all for us.” Mrs. Choi remarked, genuinely concerned for you. 

“Yes, please, Mrs. Kim. We can finish up with the little things. I’ve just finished preparing dinner downstairs, you should eat.” Mrs. Seo chimed in as she entered the walk-in closet, gesturing towards the door. 

“Are you sure? I can-”

“Mrs. Kim, you’re very kind for offering your help, we’re very grateful you’ve done so. Though we are Mr. Kim’s housekeepers, we are meant to care for his home and his lovely wife. You need not worry about helping us.” Mrs. Choi stated with an earnest tone, speaking respectfully as she addressed you. 

You were going to protest again before you considered her words, registering that if you indeed helped them, it would technically negate the entire purpose of their work. 

You bit back your reply as a result, crafting a new one. 

“I see, I’m sorry, Mrs. Seo, Mrs. Choi. I’m just.. very used to doing things on my own,” you looked towards the ground. “I apologize.” You almost dipped for a bow until Mrs. Choi rapidly cautioned you, scrambling towards your figure. 

“Oh dear, Mrs. Kim! You do not need to bow to us, you’re Mr. Kim’s wife, you are the one who is bowed to.” 

“Yes, you do not need to apologize either, we appreciate your help, it was very sweet of you.” Mrs. Seo added with a warm smile, bowing to you instead. “Please go for dinner downstairs, I’ve also informed Mr. Kim for dinner, though I’m unsure if he has made his way down yet.” She added on, urging you towards the room's exit and you recognized it was probably better to listen to her. 

Even if all this high-class, status stuff had yet to sink in or make sense to you after being away for so long, you understood there was an eventual tolerance you had to build for it. Just as Mrs. Choi said, you’re Kim Taehyung’s wife now, and that came with a hell lot of status you hadn’t even scratched the surface of yet.

You could already tell it was going to be a pain in the ass. 

“I suppose I should. I’ll get going, then.” You smiled graciously at both women, appreciative of their kindness and began vacating the closet. You just about pulled the room door open before Mrs. Seo suddenly came to you.

“Oh! Mrs. Kim,” she halted you. “I was informed by Mr. Kim to provide this to you. He would have done so himself though he’s quite busy at the moment.” Mrs. Seo extended her hand and presented a pristine looking card, black and incredibly sleek in design. Your eyebrows furrowed until you noticed the telltale symbols, almost ominously minimal branding indicating a rare card only those with some of the highest networths in Korea could own. 

Your eyes widened in horror. 

The Black Card. 

“P-pardon?” You needed her to reiterate, there was no way Kim Taehyung was giving you a black card, the same card that was limitless on credit and only exclusively owned by the affluent one-percenters of society. 

“He’s informed me this belongs to you now, and that you’re to keep it in your possession.” Mrs. Seo elaborated, smiling through the mental whiplash you were currently experiencing.  

“Belongs to.. me? This is mine?” You were still having trouble processing, why would Taehyung be gifting you this? Who’s account was it even attached to? Was it yours and he’s decided to graciously pay all the expensive fees, or worse, was it joined with his own account? 

Don’t tell me it’s joined with his account.  

“Yes, Mrs. Kim. It’s yours.” Mrs. Seo held it out more outwardly, nudging it in your direction. 

Your mouth fell agape for another second before you mentally collected yourself, quickly grabbing the card and thanking her as you made your exit, marching through the house for Taehyung’s unbelievable ass. 

Taehyung could not be providing you with this card. It was irrational, simply had to have been a decision he made with at least two bottles of soju in him, right? You didn’t care what his reasoning would be, you were denying and returning this. There was no way in hell you’d accept this card, especially if he linked his own personal account to it. 

You tried loosely recalling where Taehyung mentioned his study, logically assuming he was working there. You inspected majority of the second floor, working your way through the halls until you finally caught sight of the familiar wooden doors with glass panels, slightly ajar, light bleeding through.

You made for the room quickly and stormed in without a care, attempting to steady your breathing from all the rushing around. You caught Taehyung completely off guard, having shredded his suit jacket to instead sport the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt, adorning black-rimmed, designer glasses. 

He looked 100x hotter than he should’ve. 

Taehyung suddenly propped up from the leaned-back position he’d assumed on his chair, expression caught by surprise. “Y/N?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing. 

You held up the card and addressed him immediately. “Taehyung, what’s this? Why are you giving this to me?” You huffed, looking at him incredulously. 

“The card? For you to use..?” Taehyung responded cooperatively, confused as to why you seemed so frazzled. 

“But why, Taehyung? This is a black card, the annual fees on this are insane and I can’t pay-” 

“You’re not paying for them, I am.” Taehyung cut in, shutting the binder he was holding and placing it on his desk. 

“What? No, no way. If it’s my account then I should be the one-”

“It’s not your account, either, it’s mine.” Taehyung brought his elbows to his desk, hands clasped together in front of his lips. It was now he gave you that same intimidating stare he did back when you first met him, calculative and devoid of expression. 

It seemed he did this when he got serious. 

“Your account? But-Taehyung, this is your money, I can’t just have it. Please, take this back.” You stepped towards his desk to return the card eagerly, but Taehyung’s firm tone stopped you. 

“No, it’s yours. I gave it to you to keep.” His words held this underlying sense of authority, scratch that, dominance when he spoke seriously, resolute. You could instantly tell he possessed a natural sense of alpha male characteristics, enough that even though he wasn’t being harsh or looming, his words and the tone he coated them with held more power than you could manifest. 

You almost cowered, but remained adamant on returning the card. It was worse with the card attached to his account, you couldn’t just keep Taehyung’s money like it was your own, it simply wasn’t. Your money sat ordinarily in a separate account on a separate card, which you were happy enough to use. You weren’t going to mooch off of him, it went against every principle that made up your very being. 

“This is your money, Taehyung. I have no right to use it.” 

“You’re my wife. You have every right in the world to use it.” Taehyung countered with no emotion, or at least any you could discern, uncertain what was running through his mind with only his eyes as a guide towards the answer. 

And you knew his eyes didn’t tell. 

“Taehyung, this doesn’t feel right to me. This isn’t my money and I can’t use it.” You emphasized more strongly, drawing closer to his desk though halting your actions once he spoke again. 

“My money is your money, you can always use it.” You knew he was relaxed, appearing practically unbothered as he leaned onto his desk and eyed you. Though with the intense look in his eyes, his aura screaming for anyone within the vicinity to submit to him, he could easily seem frustrated with the situation, namely you. 

And it made you want to crawl into a hole.

“No, it isn’t. I’ve already intruded your home, taken your closet, your room and even an extra one just for myself. I will not take your money either. Please, take this back.” You held out the card more prominently, desperate to have him understand you.

Taehyung wasn’t necessarily frustrated by you, no, he was slightly pissed you kept referring to everything as just his and not yours, that he was the only one considering you two as a married couple now while you still viewed each other separately.

Did you not see him as your husband yet?

He also disliked the fact that you seemed scared of him, or unable to trust him like last night. He could see you fighting back the urge to cower away, genuinely upsetting him you still held a degree of fear and unsureness in your eyes. 

Why are you so afraid of me? 

“Y/N, everything isn’t just mine anymore, it’s yours, too. We’re a married couple, husband and wife. What’s mine is yours.” Taehyung tried to reason, loosening himself up more to seem less intimidating, more approachable.

“But money, Taehyung-it’s different. I didn’t even want to take my own father’s money, there’s no way I’ll take yours, please.” Pleading leaked into your tone as you lips started doing that thing where they just about pout, emphasizing their plushiness and Taehyung couldn’t help but notice it again. 

He started growing frustrated as he removed his glasses, placing them on his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. It seemed like he was digesting the situation, searching for the best approach.

“Y/N, look. I know the kind of situation you had with your father, but I’m not him. Didn’t you hear what Mrs. Choi and Seo addressed you as?” 

You thought it over, unknowing of where he was taking this. “They.. called me Mrs. Kim.”

“Exactly. Even my last name is yours, everything I have is yours. I’m your husband, I’m always going to provide you with things from now on. That card is just one of many.” Taehyung offered his best explanation, making sure his tone wasn’t as serious to sidetrack any fear you still had.

“I understand. But this is a black card, Taehyung, and it’s your hard-earned money, not mine. It feels wrong even just having it.” You couldn’t fight your inner turmoil, you genuinely believed this to be wrong. After spending almost a decade trying to work for yourself, pay for yourself, seldom seeking the help of another, this just left a disagreeing feeling to churn in your stomach.

Taehyung sighed heavily before pushing his chair back, rising from his seat. He made his way over to you where you grew unintentionally defensive, retracting from him slightly as he neared you. He noticed it and pursed his lips, reaching out for your upper arms and taking them warmly, tenderly, waiting for your eyes to meet his before he spoke to you.

“Y/N, do you remember what I said before I kissed you yesterday?”

Your eyes widened having been reminded of the intimate moment, nodding at him innocently. Taehyung witnessed you trying to avoid eye contact and found himself softening. 

“I didn’t say that without reason. I meant it when I said I would take care of you. Your father is a different story, if you don’t want to use his money, I respect that. But I’m your husband, and I want to be a good one. I want to give you things.. do things for you simply because I want to.” Taehyung reasoned, gripping you lightly. “I want you to use my money, you’re allowed to use it.” He tried voicing with sincerity, earnestly, hoping he could change your mind.

He saw you still hesitating to accept the offer, however, deciding on a compromise.

“Look, you don’t have to use it all the time. You can still use your own card, but you can use mine here and there. Seriously, Y/N, using it won’t even make a dent on me. I’m the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, use it at your discretion.” Taehyung could practically see your gears shifting, searching for your eyes as he wished you’d understand him. 

He saw this as a second step towards work-life balance, only feeling the responsibility and genuine desire to be the good husband in spite of the unfortunate nature of your marriage. He didn’t want any doubt concerning his ability to be a good husband, either.

After all, when Taehyung did something, he always did the best he possibly could.

“Okay, I guess you’re right. But I do have my own money, and I’ll be using that 100x more often than yours.” You relaxed and oddly let him hold you, looking down at the black card that rested in your hand and clutching it to your palm.

Taehyung realized he was still holding you and let go, retiring to fluff his hair instead. You caught a glimpse of his bicep underneath his rolled up sleeve as he did so, and you truly hated you chose a time like this to find him stunningly attractive.

“You should come downstairs, Mrs. Seo prepared dinner.” You ignored your thoughts.

“You go first, I’ll be down in a second.”

You nodded agreeably and turned away, leaving his study. You took a second look at the card in your hand, then glanced around the house as you strolled through it, trying to embed what Taehyung said into the crevices of your resistant thinking.

Everything I have is yours, you reiterated, registering that Taehyung had in fact grown accustomed to the idea of you two as a couple already. He’s accepted it, embraced it, even enforced it now with his earlier declarations and this black card. You automatically felt behind, like you were the tortoise in the race and needed to pick up your pace.

If Taehyung had already come to terms with your marriage, it was only a matter of time before you did as well. Marriage is a two-way street, and if you wanted to make this easier on both yourself and Taehyung, you would compromise with him, accept the true sense of partnership that entailed your status as husband and wife.

Thus was the exact mantra that played in your head as you fiddled with the card, remembering the way his big hands held you.

Warm.

It was night. 

You could say it was like any other ordinary night, though that would be a gargantuan lie. 

This night was the first time Taehyung and yourself were going to sleep in the same bed.

In your own home. 

The hotel suite left you both with your own space and privacy since it was a random, public room with no personality or attachment to it whatsoever, making it easier and comfortable to sleep with him.

So when you emerged from your walk-in closet in a thin camisole, loose pajama shorts and without a bra, you were cursing yourself. God damn you for needing to sleep in minimal clothing for comfort. You’d slept in a loose t-shirt and bottoms at the suite last night since it was a public room, and long story short, it left you tossing and turning more than you liked. 

You had no clue prior to arriving here that you’d be sharing a room with Taehyung. You’d expected to sleep in a different one, in the privacy of your own room where you could prance around as you wished and as a result packed your usual sleepwear. 

But now that you were left having to slumber with Taehyung, clothes on the more revealing side, there was no turning back. 

And what there was truly no turning back from, was when you opened the closet door and your eyes landed on Taehyung’s shirtless, wet self drying his hair after a shower. 

You immediately malfunctioned.

Your eyes fell to his bare back, ruffling his wet hair as his plaid pajama pants hung loosely at his hips. You immediately exclaimed and clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to shut yourself up. 

You did not expect at all for Taehyung to have such honey-coloured skin. It was like it naturally glowed, a healthy tone that made him appear all the more delectable. It certainly didn’t help that his shoulders were broader than you first observed, sincerely an other-worldly experience when he wasn’t wearing clothes. 

You also got an all-access view of his trap muscles, adding to the width of his shoulders overall and when Taehyung turned around to the sound of the closet door opening, gaze locking with yours, you could confirm his neck, chest and collarbones were indeed crafted to perfection.

Taehyung’s eyes widened momentarily drinking you in, not expecting your light sleepwear when just last night he witnessed you in a full pajama set. Not to mention, and he hated that he could tell, but you weren't wearing a bra. 

And the camisole did nothing to hide that. 

Taehyung straightened himself up realizing you two were practically gawking at each other, resting the towel around his neck as he cleared his throat. “That’s what you sleep in?” 

“That’s what you sleep in?” You retorted, arms over your chest. 

“Guys usually sleep shirtless, this is normal.” Taehyung gestured towards his own body and you had half a mind to floor yourself. It’s like Taehyung knew but also didn’t know he was hot, knew the effect he had on people though never grew cocky or proud enough to purposefully parade it around. 

And it frustrated you even more; he was fairly humble about being a sexy Greek God. 

“Girls sleep like this too, this is normal.” You copied him, looking off to the side. 

“I was kidding, I only sleep shirtless sometimes. Just get in bed.” Taehyung narrowed his eyes as he gestured towards the sheets, returning to his palace of a bathroom to toss his towel in the hamper and pull a t-shirt over his head. 

You wanted to move, feet just about ready to carry you but you never abandoned your spot. Instead, you pressed your lips into a thin line contemplating that sharing a bed with Taehyung, in clothes like this and in such proximity, all held a degree of intimacy you didn’t know you two shared yet. 

It’s only been a day. 

So when Taehyung returned to your unmoving figure, arms holding your chest and avoiding eye contact with him, he was quick to get the message. 

“Um.. if you really don’t want to sleep here, I can give you another room.” Taehyung offered, figuring himself this may be too soon. 

“No, it’s okay, that’d be kind of a hassle.” You waved him off. “Besides, your bed looks comfy.”

You were honestly trying to live up to your acceptance that Taehyung was the man you’d spend your life with now, so you’d better start getting use to him. You’d sleep next to him for numerous nights, spend endless days together and share a multitude of things; this would simply just be a first of many first times. 

So you paddled over to the bed and removed the covers to snuggle yourself in, the bed’s coolness sending a shiver through you before you hugged the blanket to yourself. Taehyung stood with a smile before crawling in himself, adjusting the covers to his liking. 

He felt at peace in a matter of seconds, the feeling of his own bed lulling him into a state of slumber already. He reached his arm out to shut off the lamp on his bedside table, leaving the room pitch dark and only his digital clock and balcony as a light source. 

You began to cower a bit in the darkness, thankful for the sheer curtains that allowed the moonlight to spill into the room. 

You felt another shiver run through your body when you shifted, realizing you were cold even under the sheets. You tried warming up on your own by shimmying the blanket around more comfortably, but it didn't do much. 

You were left lying on the bed trying to think warm thoughts, unintentionally breathing in the constant scent of Taehyung from his bed; his cologne, his aftershave, his body wash all filling your nostrils.

It was intoxicating, absolutely distracting and sleep began to slip your mind. It didn’t help that you were still cold too, moving around and turning onto your side where you now faced Taehyung. 

He seemed to have already dozed off, face tranquil as he slept soundlessly on his back. You couldn't help but admire his side-profile, the sparse moonlight illuminating his features. It was hard to not stretch your hand out and nearly run a touch along his cheek, like he was a rare work of art that naturally called for admiration.

You realized turning towards him that he radiated a wave of warmth from his body, remembering boys were pretty much furnaces while girls usually froze.

How wonderful it is to be a woman. 

You desired some of that heat and shuffled just a little closer to Taehyung, nearing the center of the bed. You discerned he was indeed warm and maneuvered slightly closer, just about stopping at the center of the bed. You fought back the urge to shimmy any closer, leaving a mindful gap between you two. 

You were seconds from catching a peace of mind until Taehyung unexpectedly spoke in the silence of the night, startling you. 

“You can come closer, I don’t bite.” The smirk in his voice was obvious, making you scrunch your nose and snap back at him. 

“Shut up, I’m not getting closer to you.” 

“You should, I’m really warm, and I can tell you’re cold.” There he was again teasing, his tone coy as he kept his eyes shut, unbothered. 

“Over my dead body.” You mocked him from earlier, turning away from him abruptly and pulling the covers over your head. 

Coffee was probably your favourite thing life had to offer. One of the couple things you’d fight someone over; coffee and your independence, if you wanted to be specific. 

So it made you genuinely happy Taehyung had such a wide selection of coffee to choose from, ranging from all kinds of beans to instant coffee, cappuccinos, lattes, mochas, you name it. It took no time for you to craft a cup to your liking, shuffle into a seat on the island and begin picking at the breakfast the housekeepers had whipped up earlier this morning. 

You’d woken up early today keeping in mind the day you had planned. You decided this to be another move-in day as part of your studio setup project you’ve entertained for the last week. The granted time off due to your odd honeymoon farce with Taehyung proved to actually come in handy, thankfully. 

It had been another peaceful morning for you, having woken up with sunlight gracing the walls, certain you could hear birds chirping as if you were in a Disney film and little mice would come out to start sewing the gown you’d wear as a princess. 

It had been a peaceful morning indeed, but when you stretched out to loosen your stiff muscles, the chaos that met you was anything but peaceful. Even if it’s occurred at least 5 times now, you kept forgetting that you shared a bed with someone else now, and that said someone had somehow always founds a way to gravitate towards you during the night, even daringly cast an arm over you sometimes. 

It left you in a state of panic registering that Taehyung’s, dare you say warm and cozy body would be just behind you, his chest mere centimeters from your back. You would stay still for some time, calculating the optimal way to remove yourself from his hold until he eventually stirred enough to loosen his grip, darting right out of bed. 

Other times, he’d wake earlier than you and you wondered what would cross his mind once he registered your oddly proximal bodies. 

Did it ever bother him?

Nonetheless, it brought a mischievous smile to your face thinking about the fact that Taehyung had such a perfectly human habit like cuddling. He was always so serious, so put together and a near machine at everything he did, seeming as though he wouldn’t give anything romantic the time of day. 

But it was hard to forget the fluffy feeling that blossomed in your chest when you would sense his proximity, maybe inviting a liking to it. You had always slept alone, only yourself and the darkness to keep you company in your lonely bed, in your lonely home. 

So sleeping next to someone, namely Kim Taehyung left an impression on you you couldn’t quite shake. It was difficult to erase the image of his calm, sleeping face after the handful of times witnessing it. Long eyelashes delicately pressed to the skin under his eyes, lips plush as he seemed to naturally pout in his sleep. The sunlight only accentuated his honey-coloured skin, adding a glow to his features that made him appear prettier than he already was. 

It was nice to think you’d wake up to that every morning. 

You found your mind still playing around with the idea until you snapped yourself out of it, questioning why the hell you always ventured off whenever you thought about him. 

Weird. 

You were scolding yourself until your eyes caught Taehyung strolling into the kitchen with his phone in is hand. He’d foregone a jacket today, black shirt sleeves folded to mid-forearm paired with black slacks.  

You were normal until you almost spat your coffee seeing he wasn’t wearing a tie but instead had the first few buttons of his shirt open, revealing a generous view of his neck and the beginnings of his chest. 

Fucking hell.

You were staring stupidly until Taehyung peeked up at you, smiling “Morning.” 

“M-morning.” you stuttered.

He seemed unsuspecting as he returned his attention to his phone, proceeding to the kitchen counter and retrieving a cup to fix himself a drink. He appeared to be reading something conscientiously on his device, never taking his eyes off and you quickly became bored, ready to use the weapon you’d acquired. 

“So.. you’re a cuddler, huh?”

Taehyung nearly dropped his cup.  

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“You’re a cuddler when you sleep. Cute.” You rested your chin in your palm, playful smile on your face. 

“I think you’re mistaken, I am not a cuddler. And I’m not cute.” Taehyung denied as he only focused on the cup, his back to you. You then watched him reach for his selection of tea and purposefully evade the coffee, your eyes lighting up with mischief.  

“Wait, you’re a cuddler and you drink tea instead of coffee? Very cute.” You pulled on his leg, chuckling as you brought your mug to your lips

This was going to be fun.

“Shut up, I don’t like the taste and tea is healthier.” Taehyung practically sneered back, harshly ripping the packet of his tea bag.

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re a cuddler.” You sipped on your coffee, unbothered as you swung your legs back and fourth. 

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you like it.” 

You nearly spat your drink. 

“What?” 

“I remember a certain someone that shuffles closer to me for warmth, no?” Taehyung snapped back as he returned to his phone and popped his tea into the microwave, his shoulders high to the sky. You could imagine his smug face proud of his remark while searching for your own, realizing that Taehyung was damn good at arguing and you’d really have to upgrade your comeback game to counter him. 

He was unfortunately your match.

“Even if I were one, which I’m not, It’s not like I’m committing a crime.” Taehyung suddenly finalized with a snippy tone, and you realized you may have hurt his ego. 

Men. 

“I never said it was a bad thing.” You commented under your breath and looked away, popping a raspberry into your mouth. 

Taehyung bit back a smirk as he retrieved his cup of tea, taking a sip as he returned to his phone and took a seat across from you. He began compiling his plate of breakfast as he worked his device, typing away with one hand as if he was drafting the Magna Carta. 

You became bored again.

“Why do you have so much coffee if you don’t like it?” You genuinely felt like inquiring, if he didn’t like the taste why would he have so much? 

“For my housekeepers, they drink it.” He took a sip of his tea, all attention on his phone. 

You nodded understandingly. “Why do you have two housekeepers, by the way? Isn’t one enough?” 

“So they can keep each other company.” He answered absentmindedly, eyes still glued to his phone as he bit a piece of his toast. You really hated that he wasn’t actively interacting with you because it only left room to stare at him, and that was never any good.  

He looked illegally attractive with the unbuttoned part of his shirt, your mind profusely bugging out over the exposed bit of his chest. You were reminded of the full view from last night, and began pondering how long you’d survive having to see that for the rest of your life. 

“O-oh, that’s nice.” You stuttered back a reply, squashing your previous thought.

You were actually quite impressed by the kindness Taehyung showed behind that decision, noticing he had these small moments where he was caring, considerate, all hidden behind his unreadable face and seriousness when it came to business. 

It was quite interesting. 

You were mindlessly eating until Taehyung spoke up, eyes flickering towards you. “What are you going to do today?” 

You swallowed your fruit. “I was planning on moving more stuff in again, start finishing my studio setup. Thank you again for the room, by the way.” You expressed your gratitude once more, forking some eggs into your mouth. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

“What are you doing today?” you echoed his question, taking another swig of coffee.

“I’m working again. If you need anything I’ll be in my study.” Taehyung sent you a half-smile before snatching up his plate, bringing his phone to his ear as he stepped out of the kitchen. 

You sighed heavily only being left to think about your day, which would be majorly spent unpacking and arranging things. You had a plethora of art supplies, design tools and canvases to set up in your studio, leaving you constantly thinking of how to even begin. 

It would be a mission alone to sort through everything you had left, knowing you didn’t exactly label out of sheer laziness and would have to individually unbox and organize everything . 

It was this exact task that took up most of your day, time having slipped by in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t easy when you had to be rummaging through your belongings and situating them where you thought appropriate, also trying to envision a new look for your studio. 

You hadn’t realized 3 hours had passed until the ring of the front doorbell caused you to check your phone, curious as to who would be visiting your home in the middle of the day. You assumed it be one of the housekeepers and abandoned your work, cascading down the staircase and striding towards the grand entrance. 

You drew towards the monitor Taehyung had showed you just yesterday, explaining it to be your home security system. Taehyung detailed it had a camera for your front porch that detected movement and the doorbell alike, so you peered at the monitor to see the stranger outside your home. 

Your eyebrows furrowed registering a woman, her back turned towards the door as she fidgeted nervously with her purse in her hand. 

Sheer curiosity took you over and you paddled towards the door, unlocking it. You wore a smile on your face as you swung the door open, though it was immediately wiped off taking in the last person on earth you ever wanted to see. 

“Mother?”

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tags : @thedarkwinterrose @ayujaded @couldbeyourlast @ladyarmanto @anpanman-sonyeondan @apollukee @blueevelvt @taesluttt @scalubera​ @laurynne5​ @dreamsindreamss​ @thequeen-kat​ @awsome-small-k​ @wrecklesssly​ @kweenhu​ @jalexad​ @staerify​ @bangforever​ @dyriddle​ @aianloveseven​ @waves-and-woods​ @hoefortaeshands​ @veronawrites​ @nightapple4jk​ @wataemelonz​ @aomi-nabi​

[alreadyblondenow]

Each other’s replacements

▸ Na Jaemin x female!reader ▸ Inspired by the anime Scum’s Wish ▸ High school au, SMUUUUT, fluff and angst

Summary: Two broken hearts met unexpectedly and agreed to use each other so you can both move on from your exes. Your hearts belong to each other already, you’re just waiting for love to take place and make everything right. But will you both still choose each other in the future? Word count: 6,988k

Warnings: Using each other to forget your exes, ex Lee Jeno, kind of fuck buddies but no? Fingering, mentions of fingering, handjob, blowjob, and watching each other masturbate, mentions of taking nude photos after sex, Jaemin taking a picture of your naked body after sex (with consent ofc), uproctected sex, mentions of rough sex, making out, swearing, mentions of breakup, actual breakup

A/N: I hope you enjoy this Jaemin fic. I tried writing it as realistic as possible because I think Scum’s Wish is a very mature and realistic anime, I mean shit like that happens in real life. And I think Mugi is so fucking handsome. The ending of the series sux btw HAHAA bc I wanted them to end up together so heres my version of it. 

It all happened so fast but the heartbreak stayed and the process of healing is very slow.

Three months have passed already when your ex-boyfriend Jeno broke up with you on a nice afternoon after school. The reason? Well, let’s just say he fell out of love. And that’s what made it worst because you remember that all you ever did was love him and please him.

Every day, you go to school, attend class, study hard but you always looked so gloomy. And whenever Jeno cross paths with you in the hallways, he knew he hurt you badly and that you’re not your normal self anymore. The cheerful and excited girl he fell in love with was gone and it’s all because of him. He can only wish that someone will bring you back and make you happy again.

“I’ll help you with that,” a cold manly voice interrupted you and your thoughts while you were having a hard time throwing the trash. He’s not part of your class, he’s one of Jeno’s classmates but you two were never introduced to each other.

You watch him throw the heavy trash for you and hoping that he will hand the bin afterward but he didn’t. “Lead the way, it’s dirty I’ll hold it for you” he insists, so you do as you’re told, showed him the way so you can finish this day as soon as possible.

Jaemin knew everything. It’s a small school and students usually gossip too much whenever a couple breaks up, especially after being together for so long. He knew who broke your heart, he also knew that you used to smile and be cheerful all the time because he has seen you in places and he knew you're capable of automatically lighting up the place whenever you’re around. But now… all he can see is a broken-hearted girl.

“Here,” you hand him a tissue and your hand sanitizer as a thank you for not letting your hands get dirty. He accepted it and gave you a small smile, obviously, he’s not shy and he was looking directly at you while his hands move. To be honest, you have no reason to be shy with each other, and honestly, you just don’t care anymore you just want to end this day. But Jaemin being the bold man that he is, bravely loosen up the ribbon of your school uniform and undid a few buttons from your school blouse. It was a common thing for students to do that after school as a sign that they're ready to head home and end their day. Jeno used to do it for you, and you didn’t expect Jaemin would do it. Despite the fact that you only met properly today.

You don’t know what happened but your heart was racing the moment he’s done adjust it and you just stare at his crooked tie and figured you may as well loosen it up for him too and return the favor. A bold move that Jaemin did not expect from a girl because he’s used to being with girls who become shy and all flustered after he makes a move.

But you, you’re different.

And that’s when Jaemin realized that you are a perfect match for him.

Word is Na Jaemin is pretty popular with girls. Besides Lee Jeno your ex, Na Jaemin is the second most handsome guy in school. Not only that he’s handsome, but you also know that he is passionate when it comes to photography, he’s naturally smart, not that nice, quiet but cocky, cold but can give anyone the right amount of attention if he wants to. But in your case, you have his full attention.

That afternoon, for the first time in three months, you did not go home alone, someone walked with you and watched you go inside your house.

The same cold but needed interaction with Jaemin happened over and over again until people started to gossip and think that you’re together. But it was nothing like that and you stopped caring about rumors a long time ago. Jaemin is nothing like Jeno, but he’s a gentleman, he’s straightforward but most of the time quiet. And most of the time you share silence not stories and you both love it that way.

You were different people but before you knew it, you were spending more time with each other.

On Valentine's day, you don’t know what came to his mind and brought you a bouquet of roses and gave it to you secretly. You were genuinely happy of course, but you just couldn’t smile that big and show him more. Seeing him from afar with a dozen roses and a smirk, with his black sling bag he uses for school that makes him so attractive… is enough to call your Valentine's day a memorable day.

“You’re special too,” he said and hands you the bouquet. “Ready to go home? Sorry I couldn’t help you with trash today, I picked these up right after school and rushed back-“

“Thank you” you cut him off with a friendly kiss on the cheek that made him blush and shy for the first time.

With a bouquet of roses on your left arm and the trash bin on your right hand, you came back to your classroom to get your stuff and put the bin back. You cleaned your hands and admire the roses as the afternoon sunlight hits them perfectly and finally come out again to meet Jaemin. Only to find him eavesdropping on the classroom near yours.

“What-“

“Shh” he cut you off with a ‘shh’ gesture and made you look at the half-closed door and made you listen to their conversation as well.

Jeno I like you too.

Were words that immediately ruined your day that Jaemin perfected. But this is not about you. Because when you turned your back and looked at the man beside you, you saw yourself. The pain that you’ve been feeling for months now, you saw it in Jaemin’s eyes too. Now you understand that you’re just two broken people who are still in pain. And you have no idea that he has been hurting too.

Of course, seeing Jeno with another girl hurt you badly, but seeing Jaemin get teary-eyed bothered you more. So you reached for his hand and whispered, ‘it’s okay’ even though it’s not, and walked away silently with him to continue your day together.

“Do you think they’re just doing this because people are gossiping about us?” you asked while you watch him stare at his coffee blankly. You’ve never seen him like this even though he’s always quiet and cold.

“N-no. I know my ex, uhm… she wouldn’t use anyone. Is Jeno-“

“No. I know him too. And I know that he’s happy when he found out about us,”

“So it’s true then. Their feelings for each other” he said and went back to staring at his coffee blankly.

You pursed your lips and let out a deep sigh. Allowing yourself to be hurt again by hearing the truth that you have been completely replaced in Jeno’s heart. There was silence. Then you decided to admire the flowers that Jaemin gave to you and feel the soft petals on your fingertips. This day could have been a turning page for the both of you, but now you’re both very sure that you’re not yet ready to open your hearts for somebody else.

“Red roses mean love and romance,” you said as you continue to admire the roses that he gave which made him smile a little. “Do you like me?” and just like that, you gave him the question that you’ve been meaning to ask for the past few months.

“I do” he answered without hesitating, which gave you a shock actually. “Do you?” he returned the question.

“I don’t,” you said the truth because you can’t repay him with lies. No. You can’t do that to Jaemin, “but you’ve become special to me. And I don’t want to lose you too,” Honestly you thought being honest to him will make him feel even more horrible but it didn’t. In fact, it brought the unique handsome smile you love seeing on his face.  

“Though, it’s not right that we are using each other to forget our exes-“ you added but he cut you off immediately.

“But I need you, and honestly I’ve been very happy these past few weeks because of you” he confessed. And you wish that you could tell him the same thing but you can’t because it’s still Jeno. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not begging you to stay. You’re an adult and I have nothing against your decisions. But I really hope we could go back to normal and be closer now that we know what each other really feels. I will date you properly when the right time comes… Just not now that we're both still confused and not sure”  

Everything did not make sense of course, and the right thing to do is refuse. But the past few weeks were actually good. Not great but still Jaemin was a huge change. So you nod your head and agreed that you should continue what you’re doing but promised each other that if either one of you feels pressured already, then you should stop.

As you continue seeing Jaemin and trying to move on from Jeno, you became comfortable with each other as days go by to the point that neither one of you cares if someone mentions that you look great together even though your relationship is not true.

It was a never-ending try to give each other the chance and love that you deserve. But at the same time, it was a never-ending process of healing from your exes, a never-ending heartbreak whenever you two hear something good about their relationship. And to be honest you’re both happy that you’re not facing this heartbreak alone.

You’re thankful for each other because you have each other’s backs. But in a different way.

Jaemin is thankful for you because he can hold your hand, hug you tightly from behind then whisper sweet words, and kiss your neck, whenever he wants to, and whenever he misses skinship with his ex.

You on the other hand, is thankful too because he does these various things to you and you can just close your eyes and he lets you imagine that he’s Jeno. Like now. You were just cuddling and watching the rain from his window when suddenly his hand roamed under your skirt while he was listening to you talk, and his cold fingers played on the hem of your panties. Teasing your pussy and moving his fingers up and down your wet cover slit.

“How does Jeno touch you? Is gentle? Rough?” He asks in the sexiest tone he ever used and started kissing your neck. You had a hard time answering his question because of what he’s doing, but your mind lurks on the memories you had with Jeno in his room.

You remember how Jeno fingered you in his bed, how two fingers always feel good and that’s how you like it, you remember that while his fingers are deep inside you, he is busy kissing your body. Planting soft kisses on your chest and on your boobs, kissing your nipples and making them sensitive and he puts them in his mouth and sucks it good until it's both swollen.

This is the first time Jaemin had touched you down there. And you swear, you don’t want him to stop and you just want to remove your panties and spread your legs for him.

“Jaem-“ you moaned out an airy tone. Calling his name with your eyes closed and parted lips. Feeling his fingers go up and down your wet slit still.

“Do you mean Jeno?” Jaemin asks. But truth be told he doesn’t mind you moaning his name instead on your first time going too far. And finally, he removed your panties and made you spread your legs for him which you gladly did. Putting two fingers slowly while he’s watching you make the sexiest faces that just simply makes him hard.

Jaemin never rushed, he took his sweet time with your body. Pushing you on the edge over and over again but you don’t know why you haven’t cum yet. His tongue and fingers together were somewhat calming and just made you breathe in and out deeply, which is relaxing while you spread your legs even more.

And when you finally came, it was a nice warm feeling all over your body. Like you just got out of the shower, wet and relaxed. Though you feel so tired, weak and sleepy... Jeno was never like this but your imagination was a big help that you moaned Jeno’s name a couple of times and that made Jaemin felt so accomplished.

“How about you? Don’t you want to cum?” you asked Jaemin while you watch him help you wear your panties again, kissing your thighs after.

“Maybe later,” he said, not admitting that he came earlier too, ruining his boxers briefs.

That day you did more than touching each other’s private parts but actually giving each other oral sex for the first time. His sheets were so ruined because he came so hard when you gave him a blowjob, a handjob and when he jerked himself in front of you while he watches you finger yourself. In return, he made you cum more than three times using his fingers and tongue. And you came home with a weak body and weak legs that you flopped straight in your bed and slept with a smile.

But there are times that it’s just the two of you. Just Jaemin and Y/n, no exes involved. Where you can be free being yourselves whenever you’re alone together. Like him snapping pictures of you out of nowhere while you’re busy kissing him, or whenever you just finished having sex and you’re both too lazy to get dressed again and he will suddenly capture amazing photos of you while you’re still naked in his bed, wearing nothing but the smile he gave you because of the sex.

“Hmm. Jaemin, these are beautiful. Can I have this one? I love seeing your works, it’s like I’m seeing myself through your eyes”

Little did you know that that simple compliment from you made him blush hard and his heart jump. It’s not every day he gets to be himself, but lately, he has been feeling so inspired with his craft and he had a good guess it’s because of you.

“You can keep this too, it’s one of my favorites,” he said and handed you a picture of you kissing him while he smiles so big and so handsome with both of your eyes closed. It’s a perfect moment, a moment that Jaemin captured in the middle of him being so happy that you’re showering him with kisses.

Jaemin is sweet and quiet as usual and he showers you with love and affection every day in his own way. He’s not the normal guy who will praise you and tell you that you’re beautiful, he will just simply look at you like you’re his favorite person in the world. Which you are now. He doesn’t talk too much because one, that’s his personality already and two, he simply loves listening to you even though you don’t talk too much yourself.

He is the complete opposite of Jeno, and that’s why he became special to you.

“Yesterday, me and my mom were at the mall and I saw them. Just from afar and they were about to enter the movies and… you know, seeing them together hurt” he says while kicking stones on your way to your house.

You can only imagine the pain he felt when he saw them spending time together, and now it’s your time to get hurt because Jeno used to bring you to the movies. Then it gave you an idea.

“Do you want to go to the movies tomorrow? My treat,” you said. Nervous and shy you slowly met eyes and stopped walking when you finally arrived in front of your house.

“Did you just realized that I haven’t taken you out on a date? Because I feel bad, I just realized it now” he rambles.

“No no,” you chuckled, “I simply wanted to go to the movies with you. So tomorrow?” you were slowly walking away from him with a small smile on your face. If Jaemin was being honest, he wanted to be with you just a little bit longer. But parting will make your meeting even sweeter the next day.

On the next day, you remember clearly that you said ‘my treat’ yesterday. But the whole day that you’re together he never let you pay for anything, not even a bottle of water. You feel at ease even though it’s your first date and it’s your first time seeing each other in casual clothes and not in your uniforms, or wearing nothing at all. He looked handsome in his get up, he knows how to dress and he sure does look like the warm person you know.

“Do you like anything else?” he whispered beside you while you two wait for the movie to start and watch people enter.

“No I’m just a little chilly. But I’m fine, keep your jacket,” you stopped him before he removes his jacket, you know he will. So instead of lending you his jacket, he kept you close and wrapped an arm around you.

“This is nice, right?” he whispered back and rested his head on yours.

During the movie, Jaemin did not try any funny business. Though you were waiting for it and of course you will give him your consent. If this was Jeno, by this time you’re whimpering and cumming on his fingers by now. But you’re with Jaemin right now, and Jaemin did nothing but hold your hand, keep you close and keep you warm. And the thing that he did that made your heart race the most, was when he tightens his embrace when the couple kissed in the movie, exchanged ‘i love yous’ and he pulled you closer to him. “We’ll get there,” he whispered, “Just remember that I’m the one here and not Jeno” and you nod because you agree to him.  

Not long after your first date, you and Jaemin shared a kiss under a lamppost just before you enter your house. It was not your first kiss of course. But it was the first time that you two felt that there we're no lust involved. It was a genuine kiss. A kiss that told you ‘I’m glad you chose to stay in this stupid relationship we have’ not to mention his soft lips were addicting and he was gentle the whole time. He wasn’t rushing you, he wasn’t hungry for you. But you can feel his long to finally move on and give his love wholly to you.

“Is it okay if I kiss you like that every day from now on?” he asked softly, forehead to forehead and just enjoying the cold breeze of the evening and the quietness of the street.

It’s Jaemin, not Jeno. You remind yourself over and over again.

“Yes” you nod and wrapped your arms around his neck, “Kiss me again” you requested. And so Jaemin did, even deeper but this time he took your breath away during the kiss.

The moment you closed the door and Jaemin watched you go inside your house safely, you burst into tears because you can’t help but see Jeno in your head and imagine that it’s Jeno kissing you not Jaemin. Even though it felt nothing like Jeno’s kisses, even though you smell Jaemin’s unique cologne, still it’s Jeno whom you see in your head and it’s Jeno whom you really wanted to kiss.

Days passed by and you try a little harder to show him affection, you try a little harder to be with Jaemin and not think about your ex, you try saying Jaemin’s name more often. Calling him with a smile, surprising him with back hugs, smiling with him more. Honestly, you just want to help yourself with forgetting Jeno completely because it’s exhausting already.

Today is the school’s fair and you’ve been with your friends the whole day laughing and discussing boys over snacks, sex and other stuff. And while you and your friends have been participating in a lot of games today, Jaemin can’t stop taking pictures of you from afar and watch your pretty smile. The smile he’s been seeing a lot lately and he hopes that it’s because of him.

‘Hey beautiful, I like your smile’

You received a text from him, you look around where he is and you found him behind you. Smiling so handsomely with his camera slung on his shoulder. Your friends teased you and Jaemin for being all flirty with your glances, you have never been shy around him but now there are butterflies in your stomach. Jaemin then shamelessly showed your friends how he treats you nicely, he can’t kiss you inside the school grounds so he winked at you instead and smiled.

It definitely made everyone around you jealous. Especially when Jaemin started taking your pictures, something no one was ever seen Jaemin do.

At the end of the day, you and Jaemin walk hand in hand and went to his house to cuddle and flirt more in his bed. Hands intertwined, legs tangled, bodies closer and just listening to each other talk about the most random things.

That’s right, you and Jaemin now talk. No more comfortable silence, no more quiet walks, you’ve come so far to reach this level of comfort. And when you’re both comfortable in each other’s arms like this, you both never shut up about the things you want to share with each other. Like the comfortable silence was gone with your awkward and shy phase too.

You asked him how he used to love his ex and he never shuts up about it, and it is as if he was describing how he’s treating you but when it comes to you everything was better. Like how he used to not care about Valentines for his ex but for you he went to different kinds of flower shop just so he can find the best quality of red roses. He used to hate walking with his ex because it’s making him sweat like crazy, but when it comes to you, seeing and watching you go inside your home safely was satisfying.

“Jaemin what are we? Are we friends with benefits now? Or just friends?” you dropped the question out of nowhere while you two lie in your bed, and you play with his long and perfect eyelashes.

“Hmm. No, fuck buddies avoid feelings while we... well, we try to develop our feelings. Let’s say we're two waiting hearts, were not yet in love with each other but… we belong to each other already. How’s that sound?”

“Waiting hearts. Hmm. I like it. Did you made that up?” you giggle and ran your fingertips on his very soft lips, which made him catch your hand and kiss it before he opens his beautiful eyes again.

“Yeah” he says, “But everything I said was true. Moving on is a bitch and I just can’t wait to love you right,”

And those words were just right. Perfect actually, that it made you kiss him sweetly and sincerely. And with your lips and the way you kiss, Jaemin felt that you made a promise to him. Like you’re not going to make him wait for nothing. And because of that he deepens the kiss and went on top of you, placing his body in between your legs, kissing your body nonstop and whispering sweet things to you.

“When we're finally and officially together, I won’t hurt you as Jeno did,” and you believe him because even though that you’re a wreck now, Jaemin stayed and put up with you.

He suddenly stopped kissing you, letting you breathe and bask at this moment, then he swallowed the lump in his throat and told you the truth. “I’m finally getting there…by the way, I mean, all I think about is us-you,” he was talking about his progress of moving on. “You don’t have to be pressured or anything at this point just, focus on yourself. Okay?” he said and kissed you again.

As your days with Jaemin continues, you don’t see Jeno anymore whenever you’re with Jaemin. No more imagining, it’s just you, the moment, and Jaemin. Though you’re not sure if you’ve already moved on this time or you’re just too overwhelmed because of Jaemin. Still, you know to yourself that you’re getting there and Jaemin is the reason why you’re even more closer to peace now. But you haven’t told him yet because you’re not ready. For you, you know that he will not leave and so it’s okay to take your time.

It started when you realized everything that he has done for you and the things that he’s ready to do for you. Loving again, or being given the opportunity to love someone again so deep is something so special and exciting especially when the man who holds your heart and the one waiting for you right now is Jaemin. The life you’re taking before Jaemin was like a black tunnel that you’ve been walking around in circles for some time now. And you sure as hell don’t want to take that path again.  

And just thinking about experiencing the things that Jaemin has to offer, you can only do that if you give up on Jeno. So with great effort, you slowly focus your mind only on Jaemin and replace every bit of Jeno in your life with Jaemin, and from now on you make sure that you have something in return for him.

“Jaemin-“ you moan his name. Something so new and so satisfying for Jaemin to hear it's his name you moan now, not Jeno’s.

“You know, you make me shy whenever you say my name” he catches his breath and came closer to you to plant kisses on your back and knead your boobs from behind, nipples hard and swollen because you’ve been in bed with him for almost two hours now. “What do you need?” he asks while making you feel good with his lips and hands.

“Maybe slow down? I’m not going anywhere,” you hear him giggle from behind because of your request, slapping your but playfully and squeezing it good. Then suddenly, out of nowhere he rolled his hips, and let out a sexy grunt. “Fuck Jaemin, I wasn’t ready-“ you croak and landed on the mattress, face first as you grip the sheets and take Jaemin’s cock followed by a wave of hard and fast thrusts.

He kept a firm grip on your waist as he gives you hard thrusts and he kept you down on the mattress, a hand on your waist and a hand on your nape. It kept your movements minimal that’s why you can’t do anything now that you’re on the edge and he’s torturing you using his dick. But the best part of Jaemin fucking you from behind is the way he fucks you rough... so rough sometimes that you get red marks after a good round. This only happens whenever he catches his breath, but sometimes his thrusts become slow and deeper and honestly you feel like he’s rearranging your insides. And of course you love it whenever he’s just so fast and the sound of skin slapping surrounds his room and the impact of his thrust just drags you on the mattress, almost at the edge of the bed and he would have to drag your body towards him and fuck you faster and harder.

But this time, your pussy is so sensitive and your body is giving up and shivering already that you try and push him away, moan his name for mercy, grip his sheets while you arch your back so beautifully to ease your sensitivity.

“You said you’re not going anywhere? Why are you running away from me? Huh?” it was a sexy tone and his thrusts started to go slow but deeper than before and he had spread your legs again from behind. His arm is around your neck and ends at your shoulder, bodies closer than ever as he puts his whole weight on you and you feel his hard rock abs hits your back. Then he started thrusting hard again but now you can’t move your body because he got you locked in his arms, and instead of gripping the sheets, you now grip Jaemin’s arm and hands as you don’t have a choice but to accept his hard thrust.

Thrust after thrust, you breathe heavily and let out groans and call out his name. Until your body can’t take it anymore and you’re shaking uncontrollably and you did everything you can to push him away and try curling yourself into a ball but Jaemin was quick to flip you on your back and reach in for a deep kiss.

Kissing you while you cum and enjoy your orgasm. Feeling his tongue swirl around your as your body shakes and his hands caress your thighs so you could calm down and melt on his kiss.

After you cum, you and Jaemin did not stop kissing. He stayed above you, in between your legs and proceed to make out. Slowly and passionately, hands roaming to appreciate each other’s body, hands together and your lips locks and you look at each other with deep admiration.

“I want to date for real now. I’m so afraid to lose you Y/n,” he said directly into your eyes and rested his forehead on yours. “I promise I can do more for you, just be mine completely” he reached for your hands and kissed your knuckles.

Finally, you thought. And to be honest you have so much to say but none came out from your mouth. You looked at his tired sex face, his hair is all over his face, sweaty and his lips are swollen because of your intense kisses. And because your heart is full of happiness right now, you just nod so fast and cup his face and attacked him with kisses.

A love for love.

The first few days with Jaemin were beautiful. You both have your hearts full of love admiration towards one another and you shower each other with love every day without having second thoughts. You have never been loved like this and you didn’t know that you can love someone as deeply.

In just a few days, lust and love were perfectly balanced in your relationship. Now that you’re officially together, you and Jaemin would rather talk non-stop while holding hands, laugh and laugh until you’re both in tears, rather than have sex and exhaust each other out. But of course, now that you’re together, you can finally have the right to stay the night at their house, meet his family, have quiet sex at night where Jaemin’s lips are on your lips, catching every sound and moan you make so his parents won’t suspect.

“I love you,” you said and kissed him before you close your eyes and drift away. In return, he tightens his embrace and kissed you one too many times.

“I love you too,”

Now that you and Jaemin are official, he wanted to do everything again with you. Meaning, he wanted to give you flowers again as your boyfriend this time and not just as someone who’s waiting for you. He wanted to take you out on a proper date as your boyfriend, on your favorite fast food and spend all night long being happy with you.

SUNDAY

At first, you didn’t want to agree with his plan because him giving you all his love every day was enough. But he insists, and that’s why you’re waiting for your handsome boyfriend at your favorite fast food with a glass of water in front of you. He’s 30 minutes late already and you wonder why.

“I’ll get the red ones please, my girlfriend loved those last Valentine's day,” Jaemin’s smile was so big as he watches the florist wrap the red roses he got for you. He’s late because he went to the same shop where he bought you the flowers that you loved last Valentine's day.

And just as Jaemin walks out of the flower shop with a bouquet of red roses in his arm and a smile on his face, he thought about how this night will definitely be a great night for the two of you. And most importantly, no exes to ruin your first date as a couple.

While you were waiting for Jaemin inside, you didn’t know that he’s outside with a dozen roses in his arm and just smiling because he is now looking at the girl whom he loves the most.

Then suddenly, his phone rang and accepted an unexpected phone call. The voice of the girl on the other line was familiar. Very familiar. And his fist balled up immediately when he heard her crying through the phone. Turns out, he still can’t say no to the girl he used to love so much and his excitement on seeing you was immediately replaced with anger.

“Who made you cry? Where are you?” Jaemin asked sternly to his ex.

“He left me Jaems- I’m sorry I don’t know who else to call, I’m at home can you please go here? I really need someone right now, I’ll lose my mind,”

And just like that, he chose his ex over you. He told himself, he will be quick and still meet you afterward. But you waited for an hour… until closing time. Leaving tons and tons of messages to Jaemin but he didn’t return any of them. Maybe something important came up? A family matter? You tried and tried to forgive him even though you’re pissed that he didn’t show up. You even reminded yourself that you didn’t want this date in the first place so why be upset? So it’s okay.  

When you’re finally near your house after a very disappointing date that could have been a beautiful one for you and Jaemin, a very familiar figure was waiting for you outside your house.

One glance at that perfect face, small crescent eyes, and beautiful smile, gave your mind an instant flashback. The guy who loved you first way before Jaemin came into your life, the man who loved you in your highs and lowest moment, the man you’ve been waiting to come back…. is finally back.

“How are you?” he started.

“Better. Jeno, what are you doing here?” you asked, straight to the point.

“I just came by to see you. I’m the one who ruined us but I still miss you from time to time you know? And now I know why,”

“And that is?”

“Regrets. Now that I’m single again, for sure my regrets will even weigh more,” he let out a heavy sigh and looked at his shoes before he gave you a question. A question that he already knows the answer. “If I ask you to come back, will you accept it?” he didn’t look you in the eye. He just stared at the sky and waited for your answer.

“No,” you said honestly and without regrets. “I waited for you to come back long enough. And I worked so hard to be healed again,”

“Then I should’ve asked you earlier then. I should’ve left her earlier,”

What he said sounded wrong for you. Because you know if he did those earlier you will end up hurting Jaemin instead. At least now, it’s clear like the sky above that you no longer love Jeno.

The night ended with a friendly hug. It’s the only comfort you can offer to him because you respect your boyfriend. And you well know that staying longer with Jeno tonight can spark your first fight with Jaemin.

But as you lie in your bed and think about everything that happened tonight, your mind takes you to unwanted scenarios where Jaemin chose to comfort his ex rather than meeting up with you. It’s not right to doubt Jaemin, so you close your eyes and looked forward to the next day.

And just as you thought, you’re going to wake up with a bunch of missed calls or texts from Jaemin, you have none. So there is something wrong.

Jaemin on the other hand is staring at a white ceiling and thinking about the things that he can’t take back right now. It’s too early for regrets but he doesn’t have a choice but to rethink his wrong decisions, over and over again. Starting when he answered the phone call from the naked girl beside him right now. The wrong decisions he made last night was the epitome of the phrase, ‘one thing led to another’

He answered the call and stood you up.

He went to his ex’s house.

He returned the kiss.

He agreed to fuck.

It was all his choice. Wrong choices that made him lose and lost you way before your relationship could have bloomed beautifully. And he can’t take that back because he can't show his face to you anymore for the sexual activity that happened last night between him and his ex, somehow brought them back together.

SUNDAY

It all happened so fast but the heartbreak stayed and the process of healing is very slow.

Seven days have passed already when Jaemin stood you up on a date to choose his ex over you. The reason? Well, you don’t know because you and Jaemin did not talk it out… the breakup sort of happened automatically when you saw him and his now girlfriend again, holding hands while entering the school grounds on a cold Monday morning. And that’s what made it worst because you remember that all you ever did was love him and be better to make way for the love you thought you both want.

Every day, you go to school, attend class, study hard but you always looked so gloomy. Again. And whenever Jaemin crosses paths with you in the hallways, he knew he hurt you badly and that he broke every promise he told you. He can only wish that he could turn back time and choose to not answer that fucking call.

Just like that, you’re back in that black tunnel and you didn’t expect that Jaemin will be the reason why you’re back on this dark path again. And this time, the heartbreak was ten times even worst than what you felt during your breakup with Jeno.  

A few more weeks after the breakup, you started being alone with yourself again and try to give your heart a break from all the drama.

But one fateful afternoon, when everyone had gone home already and you’re on trash duty again, as usual, Jaemin finally decided to swallow his pride and say the apology you deserve.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” Jaemin said out of nowhere. He was looking straight into your eyes when he said it, and you can see that he’s sincere through his eyes.

“I hope you’re happy” and that's all you can say and try to walk away.

“I’m not- do you still love me?”

It was a question that broke both of your hearts because you both know that even though love is involved, it’s still not enough to keep you together.

But still, you answered him with all honesty. “Yes” short and simple.

“Then let's be together-“ he proposed with hopeful eyes.

“And what? Cheat?” you ask sternly, he nodded. “One of the reasons why I liked you back then is because you’re not complicated. You’re a simple ‘yes’ and ‘no’, but now you’re the one who complicates things. I’m sorry. It’s a no,” and that is an answer Jaemin did not expect from you because he thought you loved him that much that you’re still going to accept him. But maybe, the pain that he’s feeling right now, is the same pain that you felt when he chose his ex over you that night.

As days, months, and seasons change but of course the heartbreak never left, you focus more on being with yourself until finally you survived this school year and today is your last day in school. But before everything ended, a lot has happened before it finally ended, like Jeno suddenly transferring schools, Jaemin is single again, and you were awarded for ranking #3 out of hundreds of other students studying their asses off.

That same afternoon, while you’re fixing your stuff and ready yourself to go home under the pouring rain, Jaemin found you alone in your classroom again. And it felt like you’re meeting again for the first time. You don’t know why you accepted his help, you don’t know why you let him walk you home under his small umbrella that made you walk closely together.

He was quiet. You were quiet. But it was not the comfortable silence you used to have, it was very awkward. But you both endured it because if you’re both going to be honest with your feelings, you both wanted this.

“Are we going to do this again?” you ask before you enter your house.  

“Yes. The right way,”

And you know you both found your way back to each other because it’s the right thing to do.

[demilypyro]

I feel like ranting about Genshiken Nidaime and its handling of an un-selfaware transgender character, because I'm on my second reread, and I have things to say, so I will.

Genshiken Nidaime's portrayal of Kenjirou Hato honestly comes very close to my own experience with my gender, as it took me years and years of just thinking I was a weird effeminate guy and just "pretending" to be a girl on the internet for me to come to terms with who I am. Stories like this are very vulnerable to people who refute any possibility of a character being trans because the character does not believe themselves to be, but that kind of experience is exactly what makes it so relatable to people who have been through that. I'll be referring to Hato with gender neutral pronouns since their gender identity is technically up to interpretation.

Genshiken is not a very popular manga among trans people, most likely because most of its cast are pretty ignorant of actual gender theory, most of them being stereotypical anime fans. A lot of words and ideas are thrown around that may be seen as offensive depending on your sensibilities, so it doesn't exactly always work as affirming media. Still, I think it's interesting to have a story dealing with gender with characters who are so realistically biased, and how they can become better through interacting with a genderqueer person. It's clear that none of the characters involved are actually bad or bigoted people, they really are just ignorant, including Hato, and they become more accepting and understanding of Hato as the story progresses.

For the uninformed, Kenjirou Hato is a character introduced in Genshiken Nidaime as a crossdresser. Their explanation is that their interest in yaoi is more typical coming from female otaku, aka fujoshi, so to fit into their college’s local otaku club and be able to talk about yaoi freely, they present as feminine while there. Hato's presentation is near flawless, even going so far as to train their voice to a perfect feminine sound. 

It should be noted that Hato, in their female persona, is considered one of the most attractive women in the club, far exceeding most of their female otaku friends. The amount of effort they put in their presentation is shown to make several of their female friends insecure about their own feminity, making the amount of effort Hato puts in feel almost over the top. Still, their assigned gender is accidentally discovered on their very first day there. Curiously, even when this cat is out of the bag, they seem almost entirely unwilling to show up to the club while dressed as a man, resorting to attend classes as a man, leave campus, change, come back, and attend the club as a woman.

Hato is clearly beset by a lot of biases and preconceptions about gender and sexuality that limit their ability to come to understand themselves. They, at least for the duration of Nidaime, consider themselves to be a heterosexual man, and thus are afraid of any attraction they feel towards men, as they have not accepted the possibility that they might be into men. Hato for a long time believes that this attraction they're feeling is all the result of getting carried away when they dress feminine. It's not helped by Hato being an avid yaoi fan, which leads them to relate homosexuality mostly to the realm of fantasy, another obvious bias. When they actually fall in love with a man, their upperclassman Madarame, they panic, immediately stop presenting as feminine, and swear off their yaoi interest, as if any of that actually has anything to do with their own sexuality. Of course, that doesn't work.

One particular aspect I found really relatable were Hato's delusions. In various scenes where they're alone and dressed as a man, a sort of manifestation of their femininity appears, taking the form of a naked ghost of their feminine persona, and appears to nudge their actions as if with intrusive thoughts. There's a lot of ways to interpret this, but I personally believe Hato's biases and double life led them to distance their male and female identities so far that they cannot consider their femininity to be part of them when they present as masculine, and instead experiences those impulses as if they were coming from outside themselves. I’ve personally experienced something similar while deep in denial. This is supported by them being willing to use their male persona as material for their homoerotic art, which, if you're fervently in denial that you're into men while drawing homoerotic art of yourself, that's a lot of mental gymnastics you're doing, there, buddy. In any case, Hato’s biases and repression run so deep that in an effort to make sense of things, they cause them hallucinations.

Where things start to fall apart (or come together?) for Hato is again when they fall in love with Madarame. This is a bit after where the anime ends, so everything from here on is just from the manga. After a lot of denial, and a scene where it turns out Hato has been drawing art of their *feminine* persona getting intimate with Madarame, there is finally a scene where Hato seems to accept that their feminine impulses and interest in men were always part of themselves, and from that point they relatively stop denying themselves, and actively become a contender for Madarame's affections. Their decision to stop presenting feminine is reversed entirely, and the intrusive-thought ghost no longer appears, as those ideas were always coming from Hato's own repressed mind.

That’s where it ends as far as Genshiken is concerned, but the elephant in the room here is Spotted Flower, the sort-of-sequel to Genshiken Nidaime which is of dubious canonicity. Many characters appear whose appearance and personal history line up near-perfectly with the cast of Nidaime, though nothing is ever explicitly confirmed, and some of the names don't seem to match. In Spotted Flower, the character who is easily linked to Hato is a bisexual transgender woman, even sporting breast implants, who has become a professional mangaka (still focusing on yaoi). Her transgender status does not appear to be known to anyone but old friends, so it would appear that she is living as a woman full-time.

If you consider Spotted Flower to be canon, this almost 100% confirms that Hato was a trans girl all along, and that Nidaime was the story of them working through the biases that prevented them from realizing this. Again, as someone who went through something similar, I found it all to be intimately relatable, on a deeper level than most stories out there that deal with these topics.

[howdoyousleep3]

Self care story of the day:

The smoke was thin, but pungent enough to pull Steve from sleep. He panicked for a brief moment, until the sound of muffled cursing and clanking pots reached his ears.

James was trying to cook again.

It was sweet, really, but James had the culinary sense of a blind wombat, and has--on multiple occasions--ruined pots, pans, and all manner of cooking utensils trying to create something edible.

But the man had never accepted failure in any part of his life, least of all himself, and so the cycle continued.

Steve wrinkled his nose as he rolled out of bed, pleasantly aching in all the best ways and places. That particular scent of burning meant that James was trying to make a full English breakfast again. So Steve would be scraping blackened egg, charred beans, and desiccated sausage and bacon from whatever pans James decided to murder today.

The hallway was filled with the ashy haze of the ghost of breakfast cremated and the heated threats that James was muttering to the pots, the stove top, and Jenny-Any-Dots as the cat weaved through his feet.

"I swear I'm gonna lock you in the dishwasher if you don't stop trying to trip me, you walking dustbunny," was what Steve heard as he turned into the kitchen to find James, shirtless, with a baby blue apron tied across his front, waving a spatula menacingly at the floor, where--presumably--the cat was irritating him. "You already ate this morning, and I wouldn't give you any of this anyways. It's shit. It's always shit."

"And yet you keep trying," Steve said easily, meandering over to pour himself some coffee.

James' glare did nothing to hide the bright redness across his nose and down his neck. "I thought I had it this time," he muttered, taking the spatula to the smoking pan on the stove, creating the most alarming scrapping sound. "I watched a video and everything."

Steve could only smile and shake his head as his lover wrestled with the pan. After a few moments of witnessing the futility, he reached over to gently wrest the tools from larger hands, and place them in the sink, turning on the water, enjoying the loud hiss of steam from that first contact.

"You're main problem," he said, wrapping his arms around James' shoulders, "is that you try and do everything all at once, and you lose track of it all. You refuse to take your time and give everything the attention it needs."

James could only glare, because he knew Steve was right.

"Think of it like making love, babe," Steve smirked, pulling away to start piling all the other ruined dishes in the sink. "You don't just shove it in, do you?"

"Not unless you ask really nicely, sugar."

"Shut up," Stve blushed, but smiled. "What I mean is, everything happens in it's own time, and rushing through things, or trying to do it all at once, can turn something incredible into something horrible. You’re patient with me, so you can be patient with our food. Just...be observant and understanding."

"And don't try to dirty talk the sausage to hurry things along?"

Steve choked on a mouthful of coffee as James clutched his side and laughed from his belly. It was a beautiful sound that didn't happen nearly often enough.

Rolling his eyes to hide his glee, Steve pulled out clean pans, some eggs, the rest of the bacon. He whipped up a quick pancake batter and passed the bowl off the James.

"This is your only responsibility right now," he said. "You are going to spray the pan, drop some batter, wait until the bubbles stop popping, flip, wait the same amount of time, move to a plate, and repeat. Got it?"

James gave a playful growl and pulled Steve in for a quick and dirty kiss. "Makes me tingly when you get all bossy, doll."

"After breakfast," Steve promised, sealing the deal with another kiss. "Now, let's cook."

The pancakes were misshapen and tore up, but after the first few, the were perfectly edible and went very well with the bacon and eggs.

After they'd eaten their fill, the linger traces of smoke were erased with sounds of the dishwasher, passionate words, and honest laughter.

My heart is full of love and joy and 🥺🥺🥺...

[gubler-me-up]

Red Lingerie

Request: Can I ask for a Sub!reader fix please? Some heavy nsfw?

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! Very simple request but did I ever struggle to think of something LOL I hope it checks all your heavy NSFW checkboxes and it satisfies your craving! Happy reading! 😏

Couple: Dom!Spencer/Sub Fem!reader

Category: Smut (NSFW 18+)

Content warning: Unprotected sex, choking, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, creampie, hair pulling, overstimulation, fingering, penetrative sex, degradation, slight bondage, spanking, slapping, dom/sub dynamic, spitting, swearing

Word count: 5k

————-

Valentine’s Day was a day to celebrate the love between two lovers. Too bad your lover was away during the day. You two wanted to go out for a nice Valentine brunch, go for a romantic walk down by the lake before going home for the day to enjoy each other’s company. It was supposed to be extra special considering you two hadn’t spent a lot of time together for weeks.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend had an unpredictable job. He left a week before Valentine’s Day which earned him a huge, exaggerated sigh from you before you accepted he would be absent. You were excited to show him the special outfit you had planned for the night portion of your Valentine’s Day extravaganza. It was a little number you had picked up a few months prior because you felt as if you dripped sex in it.

When you tried it on in the store and looked at yourself, you felt as if you were the most beautiful version of a femme fatale. The mesh babydoll dress with mid-thigh high matching mesh stalkings that had a cute lace pattern at the top. The lace at the top of the stockings matched with the red lace thong that accompanied the outfit. Faux red feathers decorated the bottom of the mesh babydoll dress and a generous amount of the feathers covering your breasts. You knew it had to be yours immediately for not only your eyes to appreciate but for Spencer’s eyes as well.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror with the lingerie hanging from your fingertips as you pressed it up against your nude body. You sighed as you thought of what could have been. You tossed the outfit aside as the chances of Spencer coming home for Valentine’s night was slimming by the hours. Even though you weren’t going to wear it you decided you could at least get ready as if you were about to wear it. You opened the cupboard and pulled out your favourite lotion that made your skin feel amazing. You then pulled out your hair products and tools.

You reached for your phone on the bathroom counter to change the playlist on your phone to something uplifting. Sometimes you needed the motivation to style your hair into something decent. You noticed a text from Spencer on your lock screen. You raised a curious eyebrow as you saw the message he had sent you. A smile instantly spread across your face and you could feel your heart race in excitement. You put down your phone before picking up your red lingerie piece.

You placed it against your body again. You admired yourself in the mirror once more but this time you looked more energized, over the moon even. You used your free hand to press the lingerie closer against your body as you rand your hand down it to mimic how Spencer’s hand would caress your body in a few minutes.

“I guess I am going to be his little whore tonight.”

You spent the next 20 minutes preparing yourself for his arrival. You knew how much he loved seeing you all dolled up for him. It made the unwrapping process so much more enticing for him. He loved stripping you from perfection down to the desperate whore you masked behind your perfect hair and put-together look. You loved the way he looked at you once he had you how he wanted you. It was as if you were his candy he wanted to indulge in over and over and over again.

You made sure your hair was perfectly done with not a single strand out of place. You made sure every part of your body had your favourite lotion portioned on it. You then pulled up your mid-thigh high stockings before slipping on your lace panties. You then completed your ensemble with the red baby doll dress. You made sure to fix your hair in the mirror one last time before leaving the bathroom to get yourself positioned.

Before you went on the bed, you went to the dresser and selected his favourite perfume of yours. You sprayed your neck once on the left and then once on the right. You lightly sprayed your breasts for him. You then sprayed your wrist and rubbed your wrists together to pass on the scent to the other. You placed the perfume bottle back in its spot and went to turn off the bedroom light.

When the lights went off the only light pouring in was from the February moonlight. You went to the side table to turn on the lamp to add a bit more light to the room. You didn’t waste any more time lingering on the small things as you knew he’d be home any minute now. You crawled in the bed to get yourself ready for his arrival. You laid on your side with one hand propping your head up with the other laying on your side.

It was as if he knew you were ready for him because not even a minute passed by when you heard the apartment door open. You felt your heart race again as you could hear him place his keys down on the side table next to the door and heard his footsteps walking towards the bedroom. He wasn’t even in your presence yet and you were already getting wet at the mere thought of all the things he would do to you.

He opened the bedroom door to see you waiting for him on the bed with your red lingerie. He had a large bouquet of red and white roses wrapped in a light pink wrapping paper. You believed he wanted to surprise you with them but you had beat him to the surprise of the night. He stood there, frozen, analyzing every inch of your body.

You smiled at him. “Are those roses for your favourite whore?”

He smirked before he started to move again. He walked over to the empty chair in the room and placed the flowers on it. He looked back over at you before taking off his suit jacket. You eagerly changed your position from laying down to being on your knees on the bed.

He walked over to you as he started to undo his tie. As soon as he stood in front of you, you couldn’t help but put your hands on his face. You looked at him with an overbearing lust in your eyes as you caressed your hands down to his neck to pull him closer to you. You took a hold of his undone tie with both hands as you stared into his desired driven eyes.

“Please make me your whore for tonight,” you begged.

He tried his best to refrain from breaking into a smile from how needy you sounded. He placed his hands on the back of your thighs and caressed them gently up and down. Your muscles loosened up under his touch and you just wanted him to wreck you already.

“I don’t think you’re ready to be my whore tonight,” he said.

You pouted. “I am. I want you to fuck me like a dirty whore. I want you to use me as a cum dump.”

He nested his head in the crook of your neck. You could feel his steady breathing on your neck before he planted two kisses on your neck. You let out an eager moan as you tugged on his tie to get some kind of response from him. He hit your earlobe softly before placing his mouth close to your ear.

“You want to be a cum slut not just a simple whore,” he whispered.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be. If you want me to be your cum slut, I’ll be your cum slut. If you want me to be a filthy whore, I’ll be-”

You gasped as you felt him shove two of his fingers into you. You felt his fingers steadily flick against your g-spot. You moaned out a hungry as you desperately wanted him to continue. He had you right where he wanted you and you wanted to continue being in his lustful grasp.

“I’ll decide what you are and what you’re not tonight. Do I make myself clear?” He asked.

“Y-yes, sir,” you whimpered.

He took out his fingers from inside you. He leaned away from you and you immediately dropped your grip on his tie. From the way he looked at you it was clear he was ready to use you like the whore you wanted to be treated like. He placed his fingers on your mouth and then shoved them in so you could taste yourself. You moaned in delight to let him know you enjoyed the taste.

“I need a good vessel for my dick. Do you think your whore mouth can do that?” He asked.

You nodded in response. He took his fingers out of your mouth and immediately gripped your neck. He pulled you close to his face so you could see how disappointed he looked.

“I think a desperate whore like you can use her words,” he said.

“My whore mouth can do anything for you, sir,” you said.

“I don’t want to hear any gagging. You’re going to take my dick like a deprived whore. Am I making myself fucking clear?” He asked.

“Yes, sir,” you responded.

Without another word exchanged, he pushed you down to the side with you looking up to the ceiling. He gripped onto your hair and yanked your head so it would dangle off the bed. Even though you could see he still had his pants on you didn’t wait to open your mouth to prepare yourself for his dick.

You watched eagerly the upside-down image of him undressing. He threw his tie on the bed which could only mean he was planning on using it later. He threw off his dress shirt and flung it on the ground. He then unbuttoned his dress pants and pulled them off just leaving his underwear on.

He approached your mouth and rested his bulge on your mouth. You licked the fabric which concealed what you really wanted in your mouth. You could feel his hard dick through the fabric which made you overly excited and overly wet.

“Pull it off if you want it so bad, whore,” he demanded.

You didn’t hesitate to yank his underwear off. His dick slapped you on your face as it bounced out which made you smile. With no more delay, he shoved it in your mouth. You tried your hardest not to gag on it, especially when he went right into fucking your mouth.

He pulled down the top of your babydoll dress to reveal your breasts. He gripped your right breast into his right hand with a mighty grip on it. You let out a powerful moan in response. He slapped your breast and you felt the sting linger before he did it again.

“Did I tell you to make a fucking noise? Your mouth is for sucking my dick, not for commentary,” he said as he slapped your breast again.

Your facial muscles flinched but you didn’t make another sound. If you wanted to be his whore for the night, you had to do everything he said. You knew what he had in store for you was going to be a night of sexual thrills.

You then felt his hands messing around with your underwear. You heard a slight rip of lace but didn’t care since you expected it to happen. When he was in the zone, clothing couldn’t keep him from getting what he wanted from you. You soon felt his fingers back in you stroking your g-spot. You tried your best to refrain from moaning even though he was pushing you towards it.

“Your whore pussy’s as wet as your fucking mouth. I can’t choose which one to cum in first,” he said.

You felt your legs tremble as he started to stroke your g-spot even more intensely. You tried your best not to make a single sound and continued to let him fuck your mouth. Your spit started to leak out of your mouth and go down your face. You could feel it go down your cheeks, past your forehead, and into your hair in an overflowing, bubbly stream.

Your focus switched from your hair to your clit when you felt him fiercely circling your clit. You couldn’t even hide how badly your legs trembled and you could no longer hold back your moans. You let out a cry of a moan repeatedly. Your sounds only motivated him to go faster and faster around your clit. His thrusts inside your mouth started to become more rapid and deep to the point where his dick was touching your throat.

“I thought I told you not to say a fucking word while I’m fucking your disgusting whore mouth,” he said.

You couldn't even respond to plea your case as his thrusts weren’t lightening up and neither was his hand around your clit. He stopped circling your clit and landed a harsh slap on your overstimulated clit. You let out a muffled shriek as the slap tingled throughout your body. He then went back to circling it for a few seconds before slapping it again. You arched your back as you muffled out another shriek.

“You were fucking begging me to treat you like a whore and you can’t even put out like one. You better be the fucking best cum slut right now if you want a chance to get fucked,” he said.

He went back to circling your clit as you tried to maintain your cool. Then you felt it. You felt a tingling sensation overcome your body. You tried to hold it back. You tried extremely hard to. Then he put his fingers back in you to stroke your g-spot relentlessly. You had no choice at that point but to cum.

You arched your back further as you let your orgasm take over your body. You moaned loudly around his mouth but he didn’t let up from fucking your mouth. He also wasn’t done with you. You felt him roughly squeeze your left breast in response to you having an orgasm. You let out a muffled shriek in response.

He went back to rapidly circling your overstimulated clit. You were still on a high from your orgasm so you couldn’t control anything any longer. You could feel tears forming in your eyes from how overwhelmed your pussy felt from his touch. You muffled a scream around his dick as you felt yourself squirt. He slapped it one last time which nearly made you jolt off the bed.

“You weak fucking whore. You get a little overstimulated and you decide to cum,” he said.

You didn’t attempt to moan anything. He didn’t give you the chance to anyway. He grabbed the back of your head to push your mouth all the way on his dick. You couldn’t hold back your gag as he hit the back of your throat. You could feel the tears drip from your eyes to join your saliva in your hair.

You couldn’t even move back from it with the way he gripped your head. He had you exactly where he wanted you and where you wanted him to have you. In no more than a few seconds you felt his cum in your mouth. You coughed since it tickled the back of your throat. He soon pulled it out to look at you. You let out a few more coughs and some of his cum managed to leak out of the side of your mouth.

He didn’t ignore your little slip-up. He slapped you on your cheek as a response to wasting his cum. You took it with no complaint because you knew you were being bad for wasting his cum after you begged for it. You already disappointed him with disobeying his demand of you being quiet and now this. You were definitely in for some big trouble.

“What kind of fucking cum slut wastes cum?” He asked as he slapped you again.

“A bad one, sir,” you whimpered.

“Don’t beg for shit if you can’t fucking deliver,” he said with another slap to your cheek.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I promise I’ll be a good cum whore from now on, sir,” you begged.

He grabbed you by your hair and sat you up on the bed. He then yanked you off the bed with your still slightly shaky legs. You got off and he pulled you down to your knees so you were face to face with his dick.

“Apologize to it,” he said as he shoved your face into his pelvis.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Sorry for what?” He asked.

“For wasting your cum,” you said.

He shoved your head down towards his balls. You assumed he wanted you to put them in your mouth to show how really sorry you were. You placed them in your mouth and sucked on them until a fresh pool of saliva escaped your mouth. He then pulled you away and forced you to look up at him. You could see this desire mixed with fury in his eyes. You could feel a tingle run down your spine again. If he could send chills down your spine with just a look he definitely owned you. You could have just melted into a pool with the way he looked as if he wanted to fuck his rage into you.

“Do you think you deserve punishment?” He asked.

“Yes, I do, sir. I’ve been such a bad cum slut,” you said.

He slapped you on the cheek with his free hand. “Don’t dare call yourself a cum slut until you can properly take cum. Fucking get up.”

He didn’t give you the chance to stand on your own two feet before he yanked you up by your hair. He pulled off your red babydoll lingerie dress and tossed it aside. He then threw your torso onto the bed, leaving your legs to be close to the floor. He pulled down your underwear and you stepped out of it. You felt him roughly squeeze your right ass cheek as if he was trying to find the right spot or the most tender part. You knew exactly what he was going to do and only a second later did he do it.

You let out a scream as he harshly spanked your right ass cheek. It stung so bad you knew it was going to leave some sort of bruise in the morning. He then did it again in the same spot. You screamed again as you tensed your right ass cheek from the pain. You knew his hand was in the air for a third one on the same spot so out of instinct you placed the back of your hand on the spot he hit. You could feel the heat radiating off from it.

“You fucking slut,” he said.

He grabbed your wrist and yanked it away from the spot he had hit. He then grabbed your other wrist and held them both together with his right hand. You turned your head to the left to see what he was going to do next. You saw him reach for his tie he had thrown on the bed and knew the chances of you using your hands for the rest of the night were slim.

He tied your wrists together as tightly as he possibly could. He made sure you weren’t able to interfere with his punishment any further. He yanked on his tie to see if it was tight enough. You knew they were tight enough just by the way they squeezed your wrists. They would definitely leave a mark once you were untied.

He noticed you looking at what he was doing. You immediately looked away so he wouldn’t think you were trying to overpower him in any way. You were genuinely curious as to what he was doing. You knew he wouldn’t accept that answer at all.

You felt his body closer to you as if he was leaning over you. You felt his teeth dig into your shoulder and you let out a short yelp. Then he did it again and again and again across your shoulder until he reached your ear. You bit your lip so you wouldn’t make another weak sound.

He grazed his lips on your ear. “This is exactly why a slut like you needs someone like me to keep you in line.”

You nodded your head still without looking at him. You felt his hand grab the back of your neck. He turned it so you had to face him. His eyes were low and his breathing was oddly calm and steady. You hadn’t even done much work but you knew you looked wild and untamed compared to him. Exactly how he loved you to look.

“Isn’t that right, slut?” He asked.

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered.

“You’re going to take your punishment and you’re going to fucking love it. Are we clear on that?” He asked.

“Yes, sir,” you said.

He leaned up and didn’t waste a second. You felt him spank the same spot for the fourth time. You buried your face into the sheets to prevent your scream from hitting his ears. He grabbed your hair and yanked it up.

“Say how much you fucking love it,” he demanded as he sparked the same spot.

“I fucking love it,” you screamed with tears stinging your eyes again.

“Keep saying it,” he said as he spanked the same spot again.

“I fucking love it. I fucking love it. I fucking love it. I fucking love it,” you repeatedly shrieked as he continued to spank the same spot.

He then let your hair go. You let your head fall onto the bed in silent relief. You breathed heavily into the sheets as you took the time to catch your breath. It didn’t even sting anymore. After the fifth time it almost became numb. Obviously your punishment wasn’t over though. He yanked your head up by his right hand this time.

“Next cheek,” he said.

His announcement was followed by a deafening spank on a fresh canvas. You bit your lip hard as you tried not to scream. You let your tears freely escape your eyes as he did it again.

“I fucking love it. I fucking love it,” you repeated as he spanked you repeatedly.

“That’s what a fucking cum slut should act like. Pathetic and desperate,” he said as he spanked you again.

“I’m a pathetic fucking cum slut,” you screamed as he spanked you again.

He yanked your hair. “And what are you fucking desperate for?”

“Your cum in my pussy,” you screamed as he spanked you again.

He yanked you up so you were standing in front of him. He shifted your body so you were facing away from the bed. He yanked your hair back so you could see his face. By the way he looked at you, you knew it was time. You tried to refrain from smirking to avoid another round of spanks.

“You better make me fucking happy,” he said.

“I’m your fucking cum dump, sir. I won’t waste it again, I swear,” you said.

He then pushed you over so you were at a 90-degree angle. You had nothing supporting you by your legs and your back. Your hands were still tied and you had no bed to rest on. You knew this was his way of testing how committed you were to his need for you to be his willing cum slut.

He grabbed your ass and you let out a soft yelp from the sting that ran through your body. You waited in anticipation as you could feel his dick outside of your hole. You wanted to move back so bad to take him into you fully. You had to keep reminding yourself about the stinging of your ass to calm your desire for him to fuck you.

He cut you from your thoughts as he pushed you back onto his dick. You shrieked out of surprise as you felt his whole dick enter you. He kept pushing you back and forth instead of thrusting into you. It was a unique choice but a calculated move. He for sure wanted to test you and you weren’t one to make a mistake twice. It was hard keeping your balance as your stockings were sliding against the hardwood floor.

“Keep your fucking balance, slut,” he demanded.

“Yes, sir,” you moaned.

You straightened yourself up as you continued to let him use you in the way he pleased. You could hear him making slight groaning sounds which you hadn’t heard all night. You just knew he was in love with the way his dick felt in you. You started to think he realized how good of a cum slut you could be with a pussy like yours. Your mouth could use a bit more work but he could never complain about the way your pussy hugged his dick so well.

“Your pussy sounds as if it’s ready for cum,” he said.

You took the time to hear the way your pussy sounded when his dick went in and out of you. You smiled at the sound of it. He then sped up the pace. Nothing but his groans, your moans and the sound of your juices sounded the room.

“My slut pussy wants your cum in me,” you moaned.

He continued to move you back and forth on his dick at a rapid pace to what you guessed was to come to his finish. Your legs started to wobble and become unstable as his strokes made you unbalanced. You arched forward as the pleasure of him fucking you was taking over your whole body.

He smashed you against him all the way. You shrieked at the thrill of having his dick all the way in you. You didn’t even care about the sting you felt when your ass hit his body. He grabbed your hair to pull you all the way up so your body was against his. He pulled your hair back so you could look at him again.

He placed his mouth against your neck to bite it. You moaned loudly in satisfaction and widened your eyes as you felt him full you with his cum. You bit your lip as he slowed down his pace to gently fuck his cum into you.

“Let’s see how good your slut pussy took my cum,” he said into your neck.

He pulled out his dick from you and reached down to rub his finger up your pussy. You shivered at his touch and let out a soft moan as he inspected. He brought his finger up so you both could see how well you did. There was a little bit of cum on his fingers. You eagerly opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. He gave in to your eagerness by glazing his cum on your tongue.

You gladly took his cum into your mouth. You made sure to show him how happy you were to have his cum in your mouth again. You wanted him to know you wouldn’t dare waste another drop of his cum. You opened your mouth to show him every trace of his cum was gone.

“Now that’s how a cum slut takes cum,” he said.

“Does that mean I can always be your cum slut, sir?” You asked.

“You have major potential, slut,” he said.

He used his other hand to grip the side of your cheeks. He squeezed them hard enough for you to open your mouth. He spit into your mouth. He let go of your face and watched you swallow his spit. You opened your mouth to show him you could swallow more than cum to make him happy.

“I’m dedicated to being your personal cum slut,” you said.

“I love to hear that, slut. I can’t wait to use you again,” he said.

“Maybe another day though. I think I overworked you tonight,” he said.

He let your hair go as he backed up from you. He untied your wrists and you could feel the circulation back in your hands. You watched him go over to the chair and pick up the bouquet of roses. He looked back at you with a gentle smile but still had lust glazing over his eyes. He walked over to you with the bouquet.

“For my favourite cum slut,” he said.

You smiled as you took the bouquet from him. He grabbed your face to pull you closer to him. He hit you with a huge, pleasure-filled kiss. It felt as if he waited to give you this kiss from the time he walked through the door. He backed away from you and leaned into your neck to kiss it.

“I know you wore that perfume for me. Don’t think I didn’t notice. I love a cum slut who cares about the little details for me,” he whispered in your neck.

“I would do anything for you, sir. Thank you for the flowers,” you said.

He leaned up from your neck to look at you. He grabbed your neck gently which brought a proud smile to your face. He grabbed your ass which caused you to yelp pathetically. It brought a smile to his face.

“There are also chocolate covered-strawberries in the kitchen for you. Eat up so you have the energy to be my cum slut again. I want to give your mouth a second chance,” he said.

“Thank you, sir. I promise I won’t disappoint this time,” you said.

He kissed you gently on the lips. “I love to hear that. Happy Valentine’s Day, slut.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sir.”

—–

MASTERLIST

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